Auld Lang Syne - New Mexico's First 100 Years

First 100 Years

Auld Lang Syne

Oh, (fair) New Mexico

By Stephen L. Wilmeth

 

            New Mexico is celebrating its hundredth anniversary.  The state is planning a number of events.  Even a commemorative license plate is being offered.  Its New Mexico sunshine yellow lettering against a turquoise background makes a clean looking memorial.

The Countdown

            There is a list of 100 facts out that mark the first 100 years of statehood. The list begins with the signing of Proclamation 1175 admitting New Mexico to the union.  With his signature, President Taft welcomed some 330,000 souls into the United States.

            The list ends with a 2011 tribute to federal land mismanagement and the Las Conchos wildfire.  It took 100 years to set the record for the largest wildfire in New Mexico history.  All that can be added is that it is surely a good thing New Mexicans managed the rest of the state or the fire might have burned everything!  As it was, only Los Alamos was threatened with its existence.

            The other 98 facts are variously worthy of consideration.  To get an idea of where the history took place, the list was assessed by geographic area.  Area One was the along the King’s Highway from Taos, down through Santa Fe, on to Albuquerque and terminating south of Las Cruces at El Paso.  

El Paso was included because it was part of a most sensible argument.  In 2005, State Senator Gerald Ortiz y Pino argued that El Paso should be part of New Mexico.  Ortiz and Pino had the real skinny with an old survey.  Ortiz or Pino couldn’t convince anybody, however, and El Paso remained the city-state it is today.

Area Two was the northwest quarter of the state.  Area Three was the northeast quarter of the state.  Area Four was the southwest quarter of the state.  Area Five was the southeast quarter of the state and Area Six encompassed the whole state without regard to locale. 

An example of why Area Six was included was the naming of the state bird.  The Road Runner, not to be confused with the Rail Runner, had cousins in most of the counties so he had to be shared with the entire state.  Besides that he brought more fame and prestige to the state than any other New Mexican cartoon character, and . . . he doesn’t cost anything to maintain unlike the Rail Runner which commands a cool $35 million per year just to idle.

Toward the Results

The tallies indicate that the Don Juan Onate Trail (Area One) was, without a doubt, where the domination of history took place.  A total of 31 of the hundred most important events took place there.   

Area Five came in a close second with 30 most important events.  Uncut New Mexico, Area Six, was third with 13 and Area Two was fourth with 12.  It was Areas Three and Four where very little of the state’s history took place.  They each had seven events for the record.

Area Three

Reviewing northeastern New Mexico’s contribution is akin to rooting for the underdog.  There is little doubt those folks had their sights set on show business until they kept hearing that humming noise. 

Following the inclusion of the coal mine explosion at Dawson in 1913, the folks turned to safer pursuits and lured Buddy Holly and the Crickets out of Lubbock to record “That’ll be the Day” at Norman Petty’s studio in Clovis in 1957.  That no doubt inspired the Raton group, The Fireballs, to whistle up their famous release, Sugar Shack, in 1959. 

Following those temblors, it was to the little and big screens to trot out Tucumcari’s Paul Brinegar (Wishbone on Rawhide) and the jail house in Las Vegas for the jail scene from Easy Rider . . . pretty significant history in anybody’s book.

The area made the grade again when Richard Nixon and Congress resigned themselves to the fact that the Uncle Sam had taken land from the Taos Indians in 1906 without compensation.  Dick signed the return document in 1970.

Finally, the world would learn that the Feds were probably contemplating Indian giving when Taos residents started hearing humming sounds.  The sound was described as a low pitched hum like a distant diesel engine running.  The punch line of the story was never written, but the event came in number 75 on the all time most important history events in the state’s archives . . . whew!

Area Four

The world might anticipate that Area Four history would include some measure of the circumstances of the world’s most dangerous border and its continued foreign invasion, or the establishment of the first designated wilderness, or the continuation of the harvest of the most prominent surface deposit of copper in the New World, or the impact of Western New Mexico University on world environmentalism, or even the account of the slaying of the last grizzly bear in the state, but, alas, those things were relegated to the floor of the editing room.

In their stead, we can remember the first invasion of a foreign power when Pancho Villa raided Columbus in 1916.  Following that, who can forget the day Charles Lindbergh landed in Lordsburg?  Charles got more notoriety in a couple of hours than the Days and the Kipps got in lifetimes of ranch stewardship!

Lordsburg would make the grade again when the feds bussed in Japanese-Americans to a World War II internment camp.  Those Americans came from places like Del Rey and Kingsburg, California.  Too little is known about of their plight and the overwhelming generosity and affection their Caucasian neighbors displayed in maintaining their farms in their absence!

Next came the Marxist influenced strike at the Santa Rita copper mines.  From the strike, the movie, “Salt of the Earth” was inspired.

An American hero made the grade at number 60 when Silver City’s, Harrison Schmitt, walked on the moon with Apollo 17.   

Finally, two events frame the remainder of the century from Area Four. 

The first was the infamous white-sided jackrabbit from Hidalgo County was wrested from obscurity into the environmental limelight when it was listed as an endangered species in 1975.  It made the cut over the release of another bit player from late Pleistocene, the Mexican wolf, which is now into American taxpayers to the tune of more than $25 million.  Both join the ranks of 99% of such listings to be hailed as an open ended, perpetual money trap that crush rural economies.

The last of the top100 events was a preview of Eric Holder’s ‘Fast and Furious’ debacle when the town fathers in Columbus followed the lead of Pancho Villa and supplied Mexican cartel jeffes with gunware.  Only one of the banditos of that brigade remains on the lam.  Perhaps his capture will make the next hundred year listing.

Auld Lang Syne

Northeast and Southwest New Mexico, though, should take heart. Their existence isn’t unlike the fate of Scotland and Ireland where glory is deferred to the British hierarchy and all peripheral subjects merely have to stand rosy cheeked with a degree of social grace.

The Scottish people once had high hopes, too, and it was manifested in a ditty that became timeless.  It spread to Ireland and on to other English speaking countries. Today, most of us know at least the first line and the tune.

What we don’t know, though, should be emulated by all independent men outside looking in.  In its original form, the song was sung facing the center of a circle united by hands of the participants.  This display of unity was maintained until the start of the last verse when the participants crossed their arms and reunited right hand to left hand of the person to his or her left (reversed to the right). 

As the song ended, the participants would rush to the center of the circle still united.  At the conclusion, there would be a pause and then all would turn under their arms and stand facing outward holding hands as they had before crossing arms.

There is a belief that the tempo of the song originally was more upbeat.  Over time, though, the tempo slowed, and the mood became more somber realizing hope becomes distant and more elusive over time.

The symbolism of the dance is profound.  The Scottish (and certainly the Irish) knew their future could not be trusted to anybody beyond their community.  That trust was invariably broken and misused.  When they rushed to the center, they were reminded of one people united by birth.  As they turned under and faced outward, they were still one people united against . . . everything.

So, let’s sing that last verse together on this day . . . hands crossed.

And there’s a hand my

     trusty friend!

And give a hand

     O’thine!

And we’ll take a right

     Goodwill draught

For Auld Lang Syne . . .

Stephen L. Wilmeth is a rancher. “Hope is eternal. Fairness, like opinion, is conditional.”