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Briefly share with me how any of  the information covered in the course so far has supported your general understanding of History. Whether history you already knew or are learning for the first time. Does any of this history relate to your own family history or do you see any connections to the present time?

We have covered a good span of history that illuminates how the Mexican and Mexican-American communities navigated living in the different eras. We have also viewed how some scholars and scholarship interpret these events. Now I would like to hear from you and your own thoughts.

I attached in the files below Chapter 4!

  • In this Discussion Post, please type in  your very  own  words , your impressions, comments, or questions about what we have covered in Chapter 4, Chapter 5 and/or Chapter 6. You may comment about any 2 historical events covered in only one Chapter or drawn from two different Chapters. The choice is yours.

You must  address any 2 aspects of information covered so far in the course.

For example, perhaps 2 aspects you learned from a  particular video or historical event in any of the Chapters covered thus far.

Or  you may want to comment on two events from the same Chapter or  maybe from a  supplemental reading,  a video and/or a powerpoint.

Any and all supporting materials are open for comment.

Please note that there are no right or wrong answers for this Assignment Discussion.

Briefly share with me how any of  the information covered in the course so far has supported your general understanding of History. Whether history you already knew or are learning for the first time. Does any of this history relate to your own family history or do you see any connections to the present time?

(10 brief sentences or 2 short paragraphs is fine- a paragraph can be as brief as 3-4 sentences).

Briefly share with me how any of the information covered in the course so far has supported your general understanding of History. Whether history you already knew or are learning for the first time.
the american southwest 1848–1900 4 Chicano historians have tended to neglect the second half of the nineteenth century. When they began their work in the late 1960s, this period was generally viewed as a hiatus between two much more promising epochs: the age of Mexican sovereignty before and the decades of large-scale Mexican immigration afterward. It was the latter period, the twentieth century, which tended to dominate histori – cal interest. One reason was that Chicano scholars are generally descended from twentieth-century immigrants and identify very little, if at all, with the so-called Spanish dons. Moreover, many of them pride themselves on being scholar-activists; consequently, they believe that it is imperative not simply to describe what happened in the past, but to change it, an orientation that naturally leads to a preoccupation with more contemporary issues. Still another reason for the neglect of this period was the abject condition of the Mexicano population in the Southwest before 1900. Small and powerless, they were despised and oppressed by mainstream society. It is a sad and depressing story, but one that needs to be told nonetheless. Adversity, after all, left a lasting impression among Mexicanos; many attitudes today are products of the trials and tribulations endured at the time. Happily, Chicano scholars have come to appreciate this perspective, and today it is recognized that the period was a crucible on which the modern Mexican American has been forged. 1 GRINGOS AND GREASERS Anti-Mexican attitudes during the second half of the nineteenth century were ubiquitous throughout the Southwest, as many historians have noted. These sentiments arose for a variety of reasons. Perhaps the most obvious was the legacy of bitterness left by the recent war of conquest. While the fighting had not lasted very long, deep animosities created during the con flict persisted on both sides for many years. Subjugated by their enemies, Mexicanos adopted an attitude that is 96 perfectly understandable. The response of the conquerors is more complicated. As in other American wars, enemies were portrayed as evil and unworthy of respect. This perception of Mexicanos was accentuated in the immediate postwar period by the success of Spanish-speaking immigrants in the gold mines of Califor – nia. Envious of their good fortune, some Anglo Americans in flamed public opinion against these “greasers” as a means of expelling their competitors from the mother lode country. The con flict over land ownership, which inevitably arose after the military campaigns, would likewise encourage the portrayal of Mexicanos as a foreign and unfriendly element. Religious prejudice was another source of anti-Mexican feeling. Vehement anti-Catholicism had been characteristic of England since the sixteenth century, a legacy that remained relatively dormant in its American possessions given the insigni ficant size of the Catholic population. Nor was there much concern with Catholicism in the new republic during its first decades of existence. The massive influx of Irish Catholics in the mid-nineteenth century, however, rekindled Anglo fears of popery, concerns that were not assuaged in the least when in the midst of the Mexican War several hundred Irish Catholics serving in the American army deserted to the Mexican side. Led by Captain John Riley, the Saint Patrick’s Brigade performed valiantly, and today the San Patricios are honored as heroes in Mexico. Both Irish and Mexican Catholics came to be seen as lazy, irresponsible, and priest- ridden minorities, largely incapable of assimilation. Finally, there was the crucial element of race. The folklorist Arthur L. Campa is correct in his assessment when he states, “Cultural, political, and religious differ – ences tended to polarize Mexicans and Anglo-Americans, but the most persistent reason for the prejudice felt by Americans was that Mexicans were dark-skinned people. Despite the rhetoric used to rationalize prejudice in the Southwest, the lack of acceptance of darker skins by most Europeans is by and large the most obvious.” 2 The second half of the nineteenth century witnessed the rapid growth of racism throughout the Western world, and the United States was no exception. In the American West, where whites encountered people of color in large numbers, racism was widespread among the emigrants. It was primarily racial factors that led to the intense xenophobia experienced by the Chinese in California, prompting the enactment of the 1882 Chinese Exclusion Act, the first instance of an entire ethnic group being barred from entering the country. 3 While racial attitudes toward Mexicanos were never quite as hostile as toward Asians—most Mexicanos, after all, had some trace of European blood—these prejudices were suf ficiently powerful to justify their con finement to the most menial positions in the emerging capitalist economy of the Southwest. The sociologist Tomás Almaguer feels that fellow Chicano scholars have tended to overestimate the amount of racism experienced by their forebears in uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu��u mexicanos 97 the nineteenth century, arguing that Mexicanos, in fact, received meaningful legal protection, notably in the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, not accorded other racial minorities in the West. 4 While Professor Almaguer has correctly pinpointed a deficiency among many colleagues, who tend to stress race to the exclusion of gender and class considerations, he underestimates the amount of racial prejudice encountered by the Spanish-speaking population. Legal protection was often the theory rather than the practice. Ken Gonzales-Day has documented 352 lynching�s in the Golden State between 1850 and 1935, and 132 of the victims were Latinos. 5 Moreover, it is dangerous to generalize based on the experiences of Mexicanos in California, as Almaguer does; if we look at Texas, admittedly the most extreme example, the preeminence of race as the basis for anti-Mexican prejudice and discrimination is perfectly clear. In fact, relations between Mexicanos and Anglos, the most striking theme in Mexican American history during the second half of the nineteenth century, were complex, far more complex than Chicano scholars realized when they began to examine this relationship in the 1970s. Although there was much hostility between the two ethnic groups, this was not uniformly the case. Some Mexicanos, especially among the old elite, adjusted better to the new regime than did others. For their part, some members of the Anglo community rose above the common prejudices of the time. A few—Arnoldo De León refers to them as “our gringo amigos ”—even formed bonds of friendship with Mexicanos. 6 Interethnic marriages were surpris – ingly common in some areas. Moreover, the passage of time brought small but meaningful changes in attitudes. Finally, there were substantial differences that manifested themselves geographically. Consequently, the best way of understand – ing the complexity of Anglo-Mexican relations is by surveying the major areas of Mexicano settlement, one at a time. CALIFORNIA The most complete and insightful study of Mexican-Anglo relations in the Golden State during the aftermath of the war of conquest was written in �1966 by the historian Leonard Pitt, who established the main areas of inquiry that Chicano scholars would later pursue. In his The Decline of the Californios , the author makes it clear that the status of the Spanish-speaking population in California rapidly deteriorated after the Mexican-American War. While the relations between the two ethnic communities were bound to be troublesome in the aftermath of the war, they were exacerbated immediately by the gold rush. On January 24, 1848, a little over a week before the Mexicans signed the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, gold was discovered at Coloma, on the south fork of the American River. The discovery was made by James Wilson Marshall, a Scottish uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu��u the american south�west 1848–1900 98 carpenter employed by John Augustus Sutter, while in the process of construct – ing a sawmill. The two men attempted to suppress news of the discovery, but it was not long before it became common knowledge. During the course of 1848 miners began to penetrate the Sierra foothills from far and wide. By the following year, the trickle became a flood as over one hundred thousand argonauts poured into the recently acquired territory. Among the most successful of the early miners were Latin Americans who arrived from the Andean highlands of South America and the Sonora region of northern Mexico, both areas with rich mining traditions. Their success, however, was due only in part to their skill; geography dictated that Hispanic miners would reach the gold fields long before most of their competitors, including the huge wave of prospectors from the eastern United States. Envy and racism, as well as the desire to eliminate economic competition, perhaps the key consideration, soon resulted in the attempt to drive Spanish- speaking peoples, all of them indiscriminately lumped under the offensive category of “greasers,” from the gold fields. Violence, never far beneath the surface in frontier society, was soon directed against Mexicans, both native-born and immigrants, as well as toward other people of color. Though they were not as oppressed as Native Americans, who were subjected to genocide as their lands were invaded, or Asians, who encountered intense hostility from the time of their initial entry into the Golden State in 1849, the Mexicano population nevertheless suffered many indignities. Their dire situation was made even more precarious thanks to the widespread use of vigilante law. The rise of vigilantes was predictable given the lawlessness oc – casioned by the overwhelming temptations of easy pro fits, together with the absence of state police agencies. While few would argue that anarchy was a better alternative, vigilantism, with all its de ficiencies—the burden of proof was on the accused, the punishment rarely fit the crime, and witnesses were often intimidated—proved to be a poor substitute for regular law enforcement. Its failure was most evident when the accused were minorities, given the intensity of racist sentiments at this time. The outstanding example, one of many, of the oppression of Mexicanos at the hands of vigilantes was the infamous case of Juanita. 7 In the summer of 1851, Juanita—her real name was apparently Josefa Segovia—a young Mexicana who may have been a woman of easy virtue, killed an Anglo miner who was attempt – ing to break into her cabin in Downieville, a small mining town in the mother lode country. She pleaded self-defense; his friends charged murder. Haled before a makeshift court consisting of the dead man’s friends, Juanita was judged guilty of murder and sentenced to death. She was hanged on July 5, 1851, the first woman lynched in the state of California. Had Juanita been an Anglo, even if found guilty, she would not have been executed, so exalted was the status of a white woman in western mining camps. It would be disingenuous to avoid the conclusion that race was the determining factor: Juanita was a “greaser,” her unforgivable sin. Such was uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu��u mexicanos 99 also the case with Josefa (“Chipita”) Rodríguez from San Patricio, who was lynched in Texas in 1863, under almost identical circumstances. 8 The law was used in other ways to the detriment of minorities. Mining codes that excluded Mexicans, as well as the Chinese, from the diggings were enacted in camp after camp. Discrimination was not con fined to the local citizenry. In 1850, the California legislature, re flecting the pervasive antiforeign sentiments of the fledgling state’s population, enacted the Foreign Miners’ License Tax requiring that miners who were not US citizens pay a tax of twenty dollars a month for the privilege of mining American gold. The tax was not levied on Europeans; only Hispanics and Asians were required to pay. As with the local mining codes, then, it was clear that discrimination had as much to do with race as with eliminating economic competition. The twenty-dollar fee was exorbitant, and the enforcement of the law was subject to much abuse. By the time the act was repealed in 1851, its goal was largely accomplished: over two-thirds of the fifteen thousand Mexicano miners in Calaveras, Tuolumne, and Mariposa counties, the “southern mines,” which they had dominated, were driven away, most returning to their homes south of the border. Among the victims were many Californios—the most distinguished was probably Antonio Coronel—whose rights were denied in violation of the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo. The failure of the pact to protect the state’s Mexicano population was even more clamorous in regard to the question of land ownership. The land question was precipitated by discouraged miners who began to occupy Spanish and Mexi – can land grants in the Great Central Valley by 1850. Discovering vast tracts of fertile land, apparently unoccupied, squatters did not hesitate to avail themselves of the opportunity to become property owners. The grantees, including a number of prominent Anglos like Sutter and Frémont, as well as the Mexicano majority, resisted encroachment. Faced with superior numbers, however, they were soon overwhelmed. Both sides, ranchers and squatters, appealed to the federal govern – ment to validate their claims. After a series of investigations, the federal Congress responded with the Land Act of 1851, which provided that individuals granted land in California by the Spanish and Mexican governments must produce documents to that effect. A board of three commissioners, sitting mostly in San Francisco, would make the final decision, subject to appeal in the court system. Essentially, this piece of legislation placed the burden of proof on the grantee, not the government. In the case of Mexicano claimants, it was also a clear violation of both the spirit and the letter of the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo. Rancheros faced many dif ficulties in proving ownership. Deeds were required to be extremely speci fic in terms of boundary lines, but given the vast tracts of land and the relatively small numbers of gente de razón in the province before 1848, as well as the cost involved, neither Spanish nor Mexican authorities had found uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu��u the american south�west 1848–1900 100 it necessary to be very precise. Moreover, the overwhelming numbers of Spanish- speaking grantees knew no English and were largely ignorant of Anglo American legal principles, both serious drawbacks in presenting their case to the American board. Invariably, Mexicano landholders were forced to rely on Anglo lawyers, with predictable results. On paper, it does not seem that the rancheros fared too badly. Three-quarters of the claims submitted to the land commission, which heard cases from 1852 to 1856, were con firmed, some nine million acres of prime land, most of it along the coast. But these statistics tell only part of the story. Litigation was long and costly, especially when an appeal was involved—the average time of appeal was seventeen years. Consequently, the rancheros, who were land rich but money poor, wound up surrendering large portions of their domain in attorneys’ fees. Furthermore, Mexicano claimants, most of them unable to monitor their English-speaking lawyers very effectively, were bound to be less successful than Anglo colleagues in retaining their holdings. Eventually, after the validation of titles, immense amounts of land were lost through outright fraud. In the northern part of the state, which was steadily overrun by Anglo new – comers even before the completion of the transcontinental railroad in 1869, the loss of land by Mexicanos was unusually rapid. While there were exceptions—Mariano Vallejo managed to preserve extensive holdings around Sonoma despite the loss of most of his property—Californios in the north retained little economic power by the late 1850s. In the south, the land base was preserved a little longer in the absence of large-scale Anglo immigration. Indeed, the expanding mining frontier stimulated demand for beef and resulted in high meat prices, which enabled south – ern rancheros to pay their debts and protect their holdings. However, the halcyon days of Old California were numbered. The droughts of 1862–1864 were the beginning of the end for southern rancheros. A depres – sion ensued, which was only made worse during the nationwide panic of 1873. The cattle industry never fully recovered from this setback. Heavily in debt, land – holders had a difficult time fending off creditors. The crowning blow came in the 1880s, when a massive land boom promoted by the railroads brought thousands of newcomers from the East. Mexicanos were reduced to a tiny minority. Most ended up performing menial labor, notably in construction and the nascent citrus industry. “Contrary to past misconceptions,” Antonio Ríos-Bustamante states, “these economic conditions applied to most of the native-born Californios, as well as to more recent immigrants. . . . With few exceptions, the native-born and more recent immigrants merged into a common community.” 9 The process of dispossession was not uniform throughout the southland, as the historian Albert Camarillo has well illustrated. 10 The displacement of the His – panic population occurred most readily in the Los Angeles basin, where the town uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu��u mexicanos 101 of Los Angeles was transformed almost overnight. During the 1860s, Anglos came to outnumber Mexicanos; and by 1880, only about one- fifth of a town population of more than eleven thousand was Hispanic. In Santa Barbara, on the other hand, Mexicanos maintained their numerical majority until the last decades of the century, a state of affairs that permitted the local Hispanic elite, which looked to the de la Guerra family, to preserve political power far longer than was the case elsewhere. By the turn of the century, the town had witnessed dramatic changes, though it never totally lost its Hispanic flavor. The quarter century following the Mexican-American War and the gold rush witnessed the nadir of Mexicano-Anglo relations in California. The ill-treatment of their people has been documented thoroughly by Chicano historians. Many injustices were in flicted on the Hispanic population, of which the loss of land was only the most spectacular example. The attitude of the dominant society toward the dispossessed added insult to injury. Not all Anglos entering the state despised Mexicanos as an inferior race, but genuine compassion and respect were rarely extended to the defeated people. Naturally, the vast majority of Mexicanos came to resent the arrogance they encountered. One consequence was the rise of lawlessness, which often took the form of banditry. Lawlessness was not uniquely characteristic of the oppressed Mexicano population; it was rampant on the frontier, especially during this period. Indeed, some historians have seen a lack of respect for the law as an American tradition. Still, the fact remains that there were many more Mexicano bandits in the 1850s and 1860s than their relatively small numbers would warrant. Some came from the ranks of old established families, including the Castros, Sepúlvedas, and Vallejos. During the decade preceding the US Civil War, roughly 20 percent of San Quentin’s inmate population was Spanish-speaking. This phenomenon has prompted most Chicano scholars to conclude that “social banditry,” a concept made popular by the British historian Eric Hobsbawm, is perfectly applicable to what was occurring in California, and throughout the Southwest, during these troubled times. Brie fly, this theoretical model suggests that brigands, individuals or groups, are frequently members of conquered minorities who have been victimized by exploita – tion, often accompanied by racism, and that their oppressed status is the source of their criminality. This model has its limitations when applied to nineteenth-century Mexicanos in the United States. After all, there were many Anglo bandits in the American West at this time. Moreover, banditry was also popular in Mexico, even before the European intervention of the 1860s. Still, social banditry remains the best way of explaining the spontaneous and widespread incidence of lawlessness in the beleaguered community. The first, and most storied, of the Mexicano bandits was the legendary Joaquín Murietta, who apparently initiated his criminal career after Anglo miners uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu��u the american south�west 1848–1900 102 invaded his mining claim in the Sierras, raped his wife, Rosita, killed his brother, and left Joaquín himself for dead. Bent on revenge, the enraged youth began a series of depredations that took him all over the state. In the process, he terrorized Anglos and was given shelter by the Mexicano community, who protected him as one of their own. Joaquín and his lieutenant, Three-Fingered Jack, the story goes, were finally killed in 1853 by a posse led by Captain Harry Love, who collected a handsome reward of one thousand dollars from the California state legislature. Now firmly a part of California folklore, Murietta has been accepted as a historical figure by a number of scholars, including the historian Manuel Rojas. 11 It is likely, however, as Leonard Pitt has ably demonstrated, that the tale is more myth than reality. 12 Harry Love was real enough, and so was the reward, but there was no Robin Hood of the El Dorado. After extensive research, Pitt found that there were several Mexicano banditti operating in California in the early 1850s who happened to have the first name of Joaquín. As criminal activity grew, mass hysteria ensued; soon they merged into one single individual, who eventually was transformed into the romantic hero. There was no one Joaquín Murietta, but the conditions that fostered the rise of rebels like Murietta were real enough. The very existence of the myth is a testimony to this fact. The legend, which the Mexicano community helped preserve, served a psychic need: it provided the marginalized population with a much-needed symbol of resistance against oppression, a function the myth continues to perform today. Those in need of real live heroes should not despair, for though Joaquín Murietta may not have actually lived, there were other Mexicano bandits whose lives resembled those of the legendary figure and whose existence is beyond dis – pute. Tiburcio Vásquez, the last of the famous bandidos in California, is a case in point. 13 Born in Monterey on August 11, 1835, Vásquez was the son of an Indian mother and a Mexican father. In the early 1850s, the youth was wrongly accused of being an accomplice to the murder of an Anglo lawman and forced to flee for his life. In 1857, he was tried for horse stealing and sentenced to San Quentin. Freed, he was back in the state penitentiary a few years later, this time serving a sentence for robbery. Upon his last release from prison, Vásquez organized a gang of outlaws who operated with reckless abandon in central and northern California. Occasionally, they ventured as far as the southern part of the state. It was on one of these forays that the increasingly bold gang leader, now with a generous reward on his head and facing a murder charge, was finally apprehended for the last time, betrayed by one of his confederates. Reportedly, he was visited by thousands of visitors while awaiting trial at the Santa Clara county jail in San Jose. Most of them, according to newspapers, were women eager to catch a glimpse of the infamous celebrity. Charged with a murder committed during an 1873 robbery attempt, uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu��u mexicanos 103 Vásquez was found guilty and sentenced to death. He was hanged on March 19, 1875, leaving an ambivalent legacy. While most Anglo contemporaries saw him as a vicious and unrepentant criminal, the Mexicano community identi fied with and protected Tiburcio Vásquez. The fascination by Chicano historians with Mexicano bandits has obscured the fact that accommodation by the conquered population was much more com – mon than resistance. Generally speaking, the higher the socioeconomic status, the greater the propensity to accept entry into Anglo society. This tendency was most pronounced among the Hispanic elite, a trend re flected in the rate of marriage between members of their class and Anglos. 14 Mariano Vallejo, for example, had eight children who married Yankees, as did three of his sisters. Clearly, many of the unions that occurred were intended to strengthen political and economic ties. The marriages of their daughters were usually arranged by the patriarchs of upper-class families. Undoubtedly, too, the desire to “whiten” their line was a consideration among the elite, who attempted to distance themselves from lower-class mestizos. As rancheros lost their privileged status, these interethnic marriages became less common, a clear indication that Anglos were now firmly in control, although the arrival of more desirable Anglo women into the state was another weighty factor. The degree to which upper-class Mexicanos embraced American institutions and customs varied from family to family. Generalization in this area is almost impossible. Some families, among them those of Santiago Argüello, Juan Bandini, Miguel de Pedrorena, and Antonio M. Pico, were eager to ally themselves with their counterparts in the Anglo community, though none of them were as successful as Vallejo in accomplishing their goal. Most prominent Californios, however, were reluctant to abandon their native traditions altogether, especially those who felt the sting of Anglo injustice. Many were resentful of their more accommodating neighbors. Mariano Vallejo, more than any other individual, was the object of their scorn; “I have seen men of pure blood, famous in provincial history, leave the room at the name of Vallejo,” observed the historian Charles Howard Shinn in 1890. 15 Pablo de la Guerra (1819–1874), on the other hand, was a ranchero who made his peace with Anglos, but on his own terms, a position that won him the admiration and respect not only of the majority of the old elite but of the masses as well. Before the American takeover, Pablo de la Guerra, like his father José, had been a steadfast opponent of Yankee annexation, despite the fact that two of his brothers-in-law were Americans. Indeed, during the US invasion of California in 1846, de la Guerra joined the armed resistance, and consequently spent time in prison. Once the con flict ended, though, Don Pablo realized that the clock could not be turned back. He pragmatically accepted the new order, creating a political uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu��u the american south�west 1848–1900 104 machine that controlled Santa Barbara for several decades, thus ensuring that his family patrimony stayed reasonably intact. Like a number of the old elite, he also fought to protect the rights of his people, of all ranks in society. The contrast between Vallejo and de la Guerra in their response to Ameri – canization serves to remind us that the elite reacted as individuals rather than a cohesive class. To dismiss these men as vendidos, pure and simple, as a number of Chicano historians have done in recent years—Rodolfo Acuña in particular 16—is certainly to find a pattern where none exists, as well as to fail to appreciate the tough choices embattled rancheros throughout the territory were forced to make. As for the Mexicano masses, those who had never had a privileged position in Californio society, their reaction to Americanization was also complex. Land – less, most Mexicanos had little to lose in the way of material possessions after the conquest, so there was scant incentive to establish relations with Anglos. In fact, they had few alternatives: despised as racially inferior, they were unable to compete with Anglos on the same level, even had they wanted to. But resistance was also impractical, given their modest numbers—some fifteen thousand people during most of the late nineteenth century—and the large-scale migration of Yankees into the state beginning immediately after the conquest. Moreover, while they felt op – pression, they had always suffered indignities, the fate of poor people in all societies of privilege. For the most part, the great majority of Mexicans, both native-born and new immigrants, resigned themselves to Yankee domination. They gained a measure of security by forming ethnic enclaves, both in cities ( barrios ) and in rural areas ( colonias ), and adapted other strategies for survival that might be available to them. In many cases, especially in rural areas, it is possible that Mexicano families continued to eke out an existence at the turn of the century very much as they had before, barely impacted by Anglo society. ARIZONA The signing of the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo in 1848 left the Mexicano population of Arizona, which resided exclusively south of the Gila River, under Mexican sovereignty. Almost immediately, though, there was strong pressure in the United States to extend the international boundary farther south. By now it was evident that a railroad line would be needed to connect Texas with California, and it was determined that the most feasible route would run through the Mesilla Valley and south of the Gila. An agent, James Gadsden, was sent into Mexico to negoti – ate a new boundary in 1853. Badly in need of money, the Mexican government of Santa Anna, now at the end of his long and undistinguished career, agreed to sell the Americans thirty thousand square miles of land for some ten million dollars. On December 30, 1853, Santa Anna signed the Treaty of Mesilla, as the Mexicans uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu��u mexicanos 105 called it. Rati fied by the US Senate in the spring of 1854, the agreement went into effect immediately. The Gadsden Purchase created the present-day border between Mexico and Arizona—as well as southern New Mexico—thus incorporating the isolated and impoverished Mexican settlements of Sonora’s northern rim into the United States. Administratively, Arizona was made part of the Territory of New Mexico until 1863, when it would be established as an independent territory; but economically and culturally, it maintained close ties to the Mexican communities of Sonora for several decades. Mexicanos in Arizona were largely con fined to Tucson, an outpost of some five hundred inhabitants. Most Tucsonenses regretted the change of flags, but in some quarters there was genuine enthusiasm for American annexation. On the periphery of the Mexican nation, the pobladores of Arizona had been chronically neglected by Mexico City, and even the recent con flict against the United States had failed to arouse any real sense of nationalism among the forgot – ten frontier communities. At midcentury, moreover, the resurgence of the Apache threat, begun during the late 1820s and accelerating during the recent international con flict, was at full force, prompting the settlers of the Santa Cruz Valley to look to the United States and its military might for the protection that Mexico had been unable to provide. There were few Anglos in southern Arizona at midcentury. A vast desert plagued by Indian problems, the region never enticed foreigners during the Mexican period the way other northern frontier provinces had. The first Anglos to enter were mountain men during the Mexican period, followed by a handful of soldiers who occupied Tucson during the war. But by 1854, most Anglos in the area were argonauts on their way to the California mines who chose to settle down locally for a variety of reasons. During the height of the gold rush, Texas cattle had been driven through the territory to California, where the hungry miners were willing to pay top dollar. Some cowboys decided to remain in Tucson, becoming either merchants or stockmen; but most of the newcomers eked out a living in local silver mines, a hazardous and largely unpro fitable enterprise given Apache resurgence. During the first years under American sovereignty, antagonism between Anglos and Mexicanos was pronounced, a residue of the recent clash of arms. Race was also an issue, especially among the Texans. Still, by 1860, when Anglos numbered 168 in a town population of 925, there was ample evidence of bicultural cooperation. Interethnic marriages were both a cause and effect of this improvement. Among recent arrivals who married Mexicanas were A. P. K. Safford, Sam Hughes, Hiram Stevens, and William S. Oury, all influential representatives of Arizona’s political and economic elite during the next few years. 17 Ultimately, the relations grew to be quite close; in fact, nowhere in the Southwest did Anglos and Mexicanos get along as well before 1880 as in southern uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu��u the american south�west 1848–1900 106 Arizona, a sanguine legacy still in evidence in the Old Pueblo today. Demographics undoubtedly played a role. The disparity in numbers dictated that Anglos had to accommodate to the dominant Hispanic-Indian culture in order to pursue their livelihood. But perhaps the strongest incentive for interethnic cooperation was the common enemy, the Western Apache. Hatred of indios bárbaros was pervasive. Indeed, even the Tohono O’odham and Pimas, sedentary Indians in the region, were willing to make peace with the townspeople when faced with the prospect of Apache depredations, which intensi fied after the Civil War. The depth of this animosity was demonstrated most graphically in April 1871, when more than one hundred Aravaipa Apache, practically all of them women and children, were slaughtered in a surprise attack at Camp Grant by a combined force, led by Wil – liam Oury and Jesús María Elías, of Tucson’s Anglo and Mexican citizens and their Tohono O’odham allies. A small Anglo population also ensured that Mexicanos would continue to play a vital role in the regional economy prior to the arrival of the Southern Paci fic Railroad, which reached Tucson on March 20, 1880. During this early period of territorial history, ranching reemerged and silver mining, centered on the Santa Rita Range to the south, revived; but both enterprises made little progress as long as the Apache were on the warpath. The most lucrative economic endeavor in the 1860s and 1870s was long-distance freighting. The isolated settlements of northern Mexico and the American Southwest were in desperate need of food and other commodities. The expansion of US military posts also favored entrepreneurial activity. Freighters were willing to respond to the demand given the prospects of immense pro fits, especially when they set up their own mercantile establishments. Tucson was ideally situated to service both the pueblos of Sonora—many of them, like Arizpe and Alamos, becoming wealthy thanks to the rich silver mines nearby—and the New Mexican settlements, notably the new town of Mesilla, along the Rio Grande, which had access to Yankee goods from the East. Tucson blos – somed during the 1870s. By the end of the decade, its population exceeded eight thousand. At this time, the Old Pueblo was widely acknowledged as the leading commercial entrepôt between El Paso and Los Angeles. Among the most active of the freighter-merchants were members of the Agu – irre family. The patriarch of this remarkable clan was Pedro Aguirre, a Chihuahua rancher and businessman who immigrated to New Mexico in 1852. Four of his sons subsequently became active traders on the Santa Fe–Chihuahua trails. Eventually, after Don Pedro’s death, the family transferred its center of operations to Tucson, where they continued to expand their freighting and mercantile activities, while also acquiring vast ranches. The most respected of the Arizona traders, however, was Estevan Ochoa (1831–1888). 18 Like the Aguirres, he too was a Chihuahuense who pro fited from the uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu��u mexicanos 107 Santa Fe–Chihuahua trail trade. At the age of twenty-eight, he established a store at Mesilla, which he ran in partnership with Pedro Aguirre Jr. In 1859, Ochoa found a new partner in Pinckney Randolph Tully. Tully, Ochoa and Company, headquartered in Tucson, came to be the most successful freighting firm operating in southern Arizona and northern Sonora. Its operations extended as far east as Kansas. Retail stores were established in Tucson and surrounding towns. Mining and sheep raising were other enterprises that contributed to Ochoa’s growing fortune. A major benefactor, Estevan Ochoa encouraged educational and other civic pursuits. He was also active politically. He was elected to the territorial legislature on three occasions as a representative for Tucson, followed by his crowning politi – cal achievement, his election as town mayor in 1875; he was the only Hispanic to hold this position during Arizona’s territorial period (1863–1912). The arrival of the locomotive brought the collapse of his freighting empire and cost him his hard-earned fortune, but it did not diminish Don Estevan’s immense popularity with his fellow citizens, Anglo as well as Mexican. The advent of the railroad signaled the end of an era in Arizona in many ways. Not only did the railroad reorient the major commercial routes east and west, instead of north and south, thus effectively ending the lucrative freighting connection with Sonora, but it also stimulated the rise of a powerful copper-mining boom in southern Arizona in the 1870s and 1880s that required enormous amounts of capital. The advent of corporate capitalism spelled disaster for the Mexicano entrepreneurs of Tucson. As the economic power of the Hispanic elite waned, Anglos realized there was less to gain by cultivating their friendship. The elimination of the Apache threat, which occurred a few short years before Gerónimo’s capture in 1886, had the same effect. But the most telling factor in the erosion of interethnic harmony was the huge in flux of newcomers from the East made possible by the railroad and attracted by the expanding mining frontier. Despite continuing immigration from Sonora, the Mexicano population of the territory was being overwhelmed by Easterners, who had few ties to the local native population and were less tolerant of cultural diversity than their predecessors had been. As Anglos headed for outlying mining areas, Tucson lost population during the 1880s, the result of an economic stagna – tion that grew increasingly worse before hitting rock bottom during the nationwide depression of 1893. Economic troubles fanned interethnic strife. The easy relations that had existed in the 1860s and 1870s between the two communities in Tucson vanished as they drifted apart. The deterioration of the relationship between Anglos and Mexicanos and the ill treatment of the latter were observed with mounting apprehension by the Hispanic elite. Among their number were individuals who stepped forward at this crucial juncture to provide much-needed leadership for the beleaguered Mexicano uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu��u the american south�west 1848–1900 108 populace. The most active of these community spokesmen were two recent im – migrants from Sonora, Mariano G. Samaniego (1844–1907) and Carlos I. Velasco (1837–1914). Samaniego and his mother, a recent widow, immigrated in the early 1850s to Mesilla, on the Chihuahua Trail, from Sonora, then in the midst of escalating turmoil caused by Apache depredations. The family opened up a mercantile es – tablishment, which apparently prospered, for young Mariano was sent off to study in Missouri, graduating from Saint Louis University in 1862. Upon his return to New Mexico, Samaniego took up long-distance freighting, supplying American army posts along the Mexican border. His marriage into the Aguirre family gained him powerful business allies, and in 1869 he transferred the seat of his freighting operations to Tucson. Though he was forced to abandon freighting with the coming of the railroad in 1880, he successfully made a transition to cattle ranching, min- ing, and stage coach transport, thus escaping the fate of his friend Estevan Ochoa. Like Don Estevan, Mariano Samaniego was fascinated by politics, an involve – ment that began upon his arrival in Tucson and lasted for some thirty years, during which time he held a variety of of fices in city, county, and territorial government. The civic-minded leader was also a member of the University of Arizona’s first board of regents in 1886, president of the Arizona Pioneers’ Historical Society on several occasions, and one of the most generous patrons of the local Catholic Church. Throughout his career, Samaniego sought to protect the rights of fellow Mexicanos, a concern that dominated his public career after the 1880s, when the strength of nativist sentiments began to alarm the Mexicano community. He rallied the Spanish-speaking masses and encouraged their participation in electoral politics. Waging a tireless campaign to combat negative Mexican stereotypes, he defended the rights of his people to retain their own culture, doing everything possible to promote traditional customs and practices, including Mexican patriotic holidays and fiestas. He also sought to ameliorate the deteriorating economic conditions in the fledgling Mexicano barrios by promoting the organization of mutual-aid associations. By the 1890s, Don Mariano was the acknowledged patrón (boss) of Tucson’s Mexicano community. Samaniego’s electoral successes were supported by Carlos Velasco, editor of the local Spanish-language newspaper. Like many Sonorans of the time, Velasco had moved north to escape political turmoil at home. Political instability, which had been endemic in Mexico since independence, had worsened after the crush – ing US defeat of 1848. The struggle between liberals and conservatives continued unresolved, adding to the nation’s ills. Mexico’s weakness again invited intervention. As a consequence, during the American Civil War, Napoleon III, anxious to expand French in fluence wherever possible, was able to impose a puppet government on the Mexicans in the person of Archduke Maximilian of Austria. The ouster of the uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu��u mexicanos 109 French army and the execution of the Austrian emperor by Mexican patriots, led by Benito Juárez, paved the way for a liberal victory in 1867 at the expense of the conservatives, who had collaborated with the Austrian ruler and his French benefac – tors. But the triumph of liberalism did not come easily. Political problems continued to plague Mexico well into the Por firiato , the era of Por firio Díaz (1876–1911), who was able to fully impose his authority only by the 1880s. In Sonora, the triumph of liberalism meant the rise of Ignacio Pesqueira, who prevailed over his political rival Manuel María Gándara during the late 1860s. Im – mediately thereafter, however, Sonoran liberals began to fight among themselves, as was generally the case throughout the country. It was only when General Díaz consolidated his power at the national level that he was able to put an end to chronic violence on the northwestern frontier. In the meantime, Arizona became a haven for Sonorans, of all political stripes, who found themselves in disfavor at home. Generally, they came seeking temporary asylum, intent on returning to their homeland when the violence abated or when their particular faction gained the upper hand. Consequently, Sonoran immigra – tion into Arizona, which peaked in the 1870s, consisted not only of impoverished masses seeking economic opportunities in the mines, but also middle-class émigrés like Velasco. A member of the Sonoran elite, Carlos Velasco was trained as a lawyer in Hermosillo but soon developed a passion for liberal politics and aligned himself with General Pesqueira. This af filiation gained him a number of important politi – cal posts. But in 1865, when the pesqueiristas were routed by their opponents, the supporters of Maximilian, Velasco was forced into northern exile, eventually taking up residence in Tucson. Returning to his home in 1870, after Pesqueira reestab – lished his control in Sonora, Velasco occupied several key political of fices during the next few years, including state legislator. However, the Pesqueira dictatorship grew increasingly unpopular, and when the government was overthrown in 1877, the forty-year-old lawyer escaped to Arizona, this time permanently. Velasco had had some journalistic experience in Sonora, and in the Old Pueblo he quickly perceived the need for a Spanish-language newspaper that would cater to the territory’s growing Mexicano population. He initiated publication of El Fronterizo in 1878, an enterprise that would continue to 1914, an amazingly long life for a frontier newspaper, especially one written in Spanish. Though he never ran for political of fice, choosing to retain his Mexican citizenship, Carlos Velasco, like Samaniego, became one of the leading citizens of Tucson. More than his compatriot, who needed Anglo votes, Velasco concentrated his efforts on behalf of Spanish-speaking residents of the city. His major impact was exerted through his newspaper, which he used to educate his audience to the leading Mexican intellectual currents of the time and to promote the culture of the Old Country. uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu��u the american south�west 1848–1900 110 Don Carlos was not alone in this endeavor; Spanish-language newspapers in the Southwest were first published in the 1850s, with more than 130 established by the turn of the century. Velasco and other like-minded editors, sometimes in spite of themselves, played a pivotal role in promoting a bicultural community, a trend that became more pronounced in the twentieth century. 19 The need to protect the Mexicano community became crucial in the early 1890s in the face of a growing tide of anti-Mexican sentiment sparked by the economic depression of the times. In 1894, the American Protective Association, the ranking nativist organization in the country, made its appearance in Tucson. The Hispanic elite was mobilized into action by Velasco, ably supported by Sa – maniego. The result was the creation of the Alianza Hispano-Americana, which was founded on January 14, 1894, by some forty distinguished members of the Spanish-speaking community. These included native-born citizens as well as im – migrants. A mutualista (mutual-aid society), the Alianza was set up primarily to protect the threatened rights of Mexicanos in the Territory of Arizona. A brainchild of the elite, the organization cut across class lines, incorporating workers as well as businessmen. So successful was the association that lodges were soon established in the major population centers of the Territory and beyond. Eventually, it became the first Mexican American association to achieve national prominence. By the late 1930s, the height of its power, the Alianza had over seventeen thousand members in the United States and Mexico. The Alianza was not the first mutualista formed by Mexicanos; these fraternal associations began to appear in the Southwest in the 1870s. Ultimately, mutual-aid societies were formed wherever Mexicano communities emerged, both in and out of the Southwest. Their signi ficance is best expressed by the political scientist Mario Barrera: “It is no exaggeration to say that after the family, the mutualistas were the most important social organization among Chicanos from the late nineteenth cen – tury to the 1930s.” 20 Typically, they came to be named after distinguished Mexican patriots, such as Benito Juárez or Ignacio Zaragoza, the Texas-born general who defeated the French at Puebla on May 5, 1862, a crucial victory commemorated at annual Cinco de Mayo celebrations. The functions of these associations were varied. In the words of a respected Chicano historian: Mutual aid societies met the material needs of their members with emergency loans and other forms of financial assistance, job-seeking services, and death and illness insurance. They also offered their members leadership experiences in civic affairs, sponsored other institutions like newspapers and private schools, provided their communities with popular community events for entertainment and socializing, and offered public forums that addressed the important issues of the day. Mutualista organizations thus gave their members and communities a sense of belonging and refuge from an often alien and inhospitable environment. The community, in turn, accorded the members and especially the of ficers the uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu��u mexicanos 111 highly respected status of responsible, civic-minded individuals. A lesser-known characteristic of mutualistas is that they served as a major point of organizational unity that spawned local and regional political struggles. 21 As Chicano scholars have pointed out, the rise of these mutualistas clearly illustrates that many Mexicanos refused to resign themselves to an animal existence in a hostile environment. Indeed, Spanish-speaking men and women initiated and sustained a variety of associations—mutualistas were among the most effective of them—to better their lives. They were not the docile and apathetic population that many Anglo accounts of the time would have us believe. NEW MEXICO In New Mexico, the Hispanic population during the second half of the nine – teenth century was better able to preserve its heritage than in other parts of the Southwest. The reasons were largely demographic. The Upper Rio Grande Valley had always been the most densely populated area of the northern Hispanic frontier before 1848. There were some sixty thousand Mexican citizens in New Mexico at the time of American occupation. And the relatively sparse Anglo immigration into the Territory during the next decades, given its geographic isolation, meant that Hispanos would retain their numerical dominance until about the time of World War II. It is customary to refer to the native Spanish-speaking population of New Mexico by the term Hispanos in historical accounts—a practice that will be em – ployed in this narrative—but in the nineteenth century, nuevomexicanos referred to themselves as Mexicanos . Despite the indiscriminate use of the term, though, Mexicanos in New Mexico in the late nineteenth century were hardly a homoge – neous population. There were a variety of factors that tended to divide them, not the least of which was social standing. During the Mexican period, as we saw, the growing af fluence of the region, due primarily to expanding trade, began to create a substantial gulf between those families who were able to accumulate some wealth and the majority of the com – munity, those who were not. By the time of the American occupation, Hispano society, as the anthropologist Nancie L. González indicates, tended to break down into two fairly rigid classes: ricos and pobres. 22 The rapid expansion of stock rais – ing, both cattle and sheep, after the Civil War would continue to accentuate the class dichotomy. Hispanos did not live in total isolation, of course, especially during this period. Both Native Americans and Anglo Americans occupied the Territory and developed a series of complex relationships with the Spanish-speaking communities that have uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu��u the american south�west 1848–1900 112 been only partially understood. Both exerted a decided impact on Hispanos that can still be felt today. When the United States acquired New Mexico, it also gained some forty thousand Native Americans. Indian society was no more monolithic than that of their Hispanic neighbors. As before, the native population of New Mexico was divided between the nomadic plains tribes and the sedentary Pueblos. By the time of the American occupation, Mexicanos had long since established a modus vivendi with the latter. Pueblo land grants were meted out by the Spanish Crown, and during the Mexican period, they continued to be honored. Moreover, Pueblos were accorded full rights of citizenship, something that was not true under Ameri – can rule. Hispanic paternalistic policies met with moderate success; Spanish and Mexican in fluences permeated both Eastern and, with the exception of the Zuñi and the Hopi, Western Pueblos. The sedentary tribes also had an impact, though more subtle, on their conquerors. The two cultures were bridged by natives who abandoned their traditional lifestyle and adopted Hispanic values and customs, as well as by interethnic marriages. Both peoples were united, too, in their opposition to the warlike plains Indians, their common enemies. After the occupation, however, the relations between Pueblos and their His – panic neighbors were often strained, in part because of Mexicano encroachment on tribal lands. Resentment on both sides would persist into the twentieth century. 23 Pueblo hostility was perfectly understandable given the Hispanic invasion of their lands and persistent efforts to erode their traditional culture. On the Mexicano side, there was resentment because Pueblo communities were protected by the federal government after the occupation, at a time when Hispanics were forced to fight a losing battle while trying to preserve their grants. Then, too, there was the hatred of indios bárbaros, which was bound to impact Mexicano attitudes toward all Native Americans. Hispanos were less ambivalent about their relationship with indios bárbaros. Generally speaking, they were as intent on wiping out the warlike tribes as were their Anglo counterparts. 24 Surrounding the tiny Hispanic settlements of the Up – per Rio Grande, these tribes included the Utes and Navajo to the northwest, the Jicarilla Apache to the north, the Comanche to the east, the Mescalero Apache to the south, and the Chiricahua and Western Apache to the southwest. When the Americans acquired New Mexico, its embattled Spanish-speaking inhabitants were in the midst of a fratricidal campaign with most of these tribes. The Comanche were a notable exception. They continued to honor their truce with nuevomexicanos throughout the nineteenth century, and generally maintained good relations with Comancheros (Hispano traders), mostly members of the lower classes, who supplied them with essential goods. The Utes, a major source of Indian slaves, sometimes cooperated, as well. uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu��u mexicanos 113 The renewed aggression of the plains peoples at midcentury was a product not only of the weakness of the Mexican government but also the expansion of the Hispanic population into new areas previously considered Indian country. In the 1820s, the Estancia Valley was settled; in the 1830s, Las Vegas and Mora were occupied; and in the 1840s, the Mesilla Valley, just north of El Paso, witnessed the arrival of large numbers of settlers, mostly Mexican immigrants from the south. Expansion continued after the American occupation, as Hispanos migrated from their ancient strongholds in the Upper Rio Grande Valley, motivated by land hun – ger and a desire to preserve their traditional lifestyle from encroaching American influences. The main thrust was to the north, via the Chama Valley, into the San Luis Valley of southern Colorado in the 1850s and the San Juan basin in the 1870s. This northward movement is described in lavish detail by Frances León Swadesh, who notes “that the pattern of Hispanic community development in northern New Mexico has been one of multiplying, not enlarging, single units.” 25 Concurrently, the rich grasslands of eastern New Mexico were attracting Mexicano sheepmen, who ventured as far as the Oklahoma and Texas panhandles. The most adventure – some of these Hispanos was Casimero Romero, who led his pastores (shepherds) into the Canadian River Valley. Under the terms of the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, the United States pledged to pacify the Indians in the newly acquired territory, and after some halting steps in this direction in the 1850s, the American cavalry began to effectively subjugate the nomads during the Civil War, when both the Mescaleros and the Navajo were forced to the Bosque Redondo reservation at Fort Sumner in eastern New Mexico. Although local residents were discouraged from participating in these military cam – paigns, settlers continued to form citizen militias to go against their old nemesis, motivated in part by the desire to acquire Indian slaves. The most famous Hispano Indian fighter was Manuel Antonio Chaves (1818–1889), a nephew of Manuel Armijo. Chaves hated indios bárbaros with a passion—in his old age, he recalled that he had lost more than two hundred rela – tives to Indian depredations—and he was not above committing atrocities at their expense. 26 On September 22, 1861, for example, soldiers under his command were instructed to open fire on a group of Navajo during a minor dispute; a dozen women and children were shot down in cold blood. 27 Admittedly, Chaves was an extreme case, but his attitudes toward hostile natives differed only in degree from those of other pobladores. The same sentiments that resulted in the Camp Grant massacre in Arizona were typical of the frontiersmen of the Rio Grande Valley. Only a few Anglos settled in the Upper Rio Grande Valley immediately after the Mexican-American War. Of those who did, a number married into Hispano families. Cross-cultural marriages muted ethnic hostility. Unlike Arizona during the immediate postwar period, then, there was relatively little strife between the two uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu��u the american south�west 1848–1900 114 societies. Interethnic marriages would continue to be popular even after the Civil War. Darlis A. Miller has noted that by 1870, these marriages were very common in the Mesilla Valley: in Las Cruces, 90 percent of married Anglo men were married to Hispanas; in Mesilla, 83 percent; and in Doña Ana, 78 percent. 28 American sovereignty did expand commercial possibilities in New Mexico, which enticed Anglo entrepreneurs, but these were probably outnumbered by immigrants from Mexico, especially to the Mesilla Valley. The chief bene ficiaries of enhanced business opportunities, however, were the local oligarchs. Undoubt – edly, many of the ricos had been reluctant to see the change of flags, but fears were quickly allayed as economic opportunities expanded and the Indian menace faded. Among rico families who prospered from increased commerce were the Chávezes, Armijos, Pereas, and Oteros. Continuing to invest heavily in the trail trade, they were able to establish impressive mercantile establishments up and down the Rio Grande Valley, along the trail linking them to both Missouri and Chihuahua. The expanding mining frontier and the establishment of military posts in the Southwest accentuated the importance of freighting and merchandising, which favored those families with business experience. Moreover, many of these entrepre – neurs, having accumulated suf ficient capital, were now able to get involved in land speculation, buying up town lots as well as ranches, large and small. While specu – lation had always been popular on the Anglo frontier, in the American Southwest it seems to have dated from the Mexican period, when American investors intro – duced this pro fitable enterprise. Soon, some Hispanos were competing on an equal footing with the newcomers. Among the most successful of the nuevomexicanos in the field were José Serafín Ramírez and Juan Estevan Pino. More fortunate still was Donaciano Vigil, who made such a fortune on real estate that he abandoned a highly successful political career in the mid-1850s. Hispanic women played a notable role in the commercial expansion, a contri – bution that has not been recognized until recently. Perhaps the most famous woman in New Mexico during the nineteenth century was the aforementioned La Tules, who ran a gambling casino in Santa Fe and made a fortune, which she increased by investing in the Missouri trade. 29 By the time of her death in 1853, she was one of the wealthiest citizens of the territorial capital. Female entrepreneurs were active in virtually all trail stops in New Mexico. In Socorro, for example, Frances García was the proprietress of a lumberyard, and Ru fina Vigil de Abeyta served as a director of the Socorro County Bank. Some women who ran businesses were widows, who made up a substantial percentage of the population during the middle third of the century, when Indian warfare took a terrible toll. A good example is Doña María Gregoria Rodela de Amador, who arrived in the Mesilla Valley from El Paso in 1846 with her three children. 30 In the 1850s, she established a mercantile store in Las Cruces that formed the basis for the vast merchandising enterprises of her son, Martín Amador. uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu��u mexicanos 115 The Amadors, among the first families of Las Cruces, were linked with many of the most prominent families of northern Mexico, notably the Terrazas-Creel clan of Chihuahua. As prosperity increased in New Mexico, its inhabitants chafed under the ter – ritorial status they had been accorded in 1850. Given their overwhelming numbers and potential political clout, Hispanos were anxious to achieve statehood. Congress, mindful of the racial issues and fearful of the dubious allegiance of the conquered population, was reticent to go along. But doubts about New Mexican loyalty to the Union were unfounded, as the Civil War demonstrated. The outbreak of the war in 1861 found New Mexicans divided. Confederate sentiment was con fined mostly to the Mesilla Valley, where many Anglo immigrants were Southerners. Led by Lieutenant Colonel John R. Baylor, a Confederate force invaded the Mesilla Valley in 1861, routing the small Union garrisons in the area and setting up a provisional government in the town of Mesilla. A small rebel force was sent in 1862 to Tucson, which was occupied brie fly. The main thrust, however, was up the Rio Grande Valley. The leader of this expedition, General Henry H. Sibley, was led to believe that the in fluential rico elite, fearing that the abolition of slavery would imperil the institution of peonage that had taken root in the large estates in the Albuquerque area, would cast their lot with the Confederacy. Some rico families, including that of Miguel A. Otero, were swayed by this argument. However, the majority of Hispanos had no stake in peonage. Moreover, New Mexi – cans detested Texans, an antipathy that antedated the Texan invasion of 1841, and most of Sibley’s troops came from the Lone Star State. Finally, the vast majority of Hispanos believed in the Union. The failure to gauge the strength of this sentiment proved to be the decisive factor in upsetting Sibley’s plans. The campaign began well enough, as the invading force encountered little effective resistance, even in Albuquerque and Santa Fe, which were occupied without too much trouble. Spurred on by these easy victories, the Confederate army marched on Fort Union, not far from Santa Fe. Unfortunately for the rebels, pro-Union Colorado Volunteers, led by Major John M. Chivington, arrived just in time, and by taking a shortcut through the Sangre de Cristo Range, they were able to surprise their foes at the Battle of Glorieta Pass on March 27–28, 1862. This pivotal battle sealed the fate of the Confederacy in New Mexico. The remains of the rebel army beat a hasty retreat back to Texas. The hero of Glorieta was Manuel Antonio Chaves, who had led the Colo – radans through the Sangre de Cristos. This was his finest hour. Even his dubious record as an Indian fighter has failed to tarnish the reputation of the Little Lion of the Southwest. 31 The aftermath of the Civil War brought large numbers of Anglos into New Mexico, many of them ex-soldiers. The arrival of the railroad in 1880 increased this migration significantly. Many newcomers headed for the mines on the periphery, uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu��u the american south�west 1848–1900 116 but some settled in the heart of what the geographer Richard L. Nostrand calls the “Hispano Homeland.” 32 Anglos who entered this area were especially drawn to Albuquerque, at the junction of the Atchison, Topeka, and Santa Fe and the Atlantic and Paci fic railroads, which became the Territory’s leading industrial center by the turn of the century and its biggest city ten years later. For some Hispanic residents, this development proved to be bene ficial. For the majority it turned out to be more of a bane than a blessing. Rico families continued to make huge pro fits on the trail trade, permitting further expansion of land holdings, particularly in the eastern portion of the Terri – tory. Much of the land was devoted to stock raising, which had become extremely pro fitable after the American takeover because of the opening up of eastern markets. While cattle raising remained important, it failed to keep pace with sheep raising, which peaked in 1880, when New Mexicans owned four million sheep. Under the partido system, which governed the industry, the sheep were divided among small herders, the partidarios , who received a share of the yield; but it was the large rancher who reaped the major bene fits. While large landholders prospered, owners of small and medium-sized holdings floundered, a process that had begun even before 1848. Evidence now indicates that even during the Mexican period, overgrazing had created serious problems for ranchers of the Upper Rio Grande Valley. Their troubles were com – pounded after the American occupation, when “the land grant business became the territory’s major industry.” 33 Oftentimes, as in California, they were unable to clear land titles. Taxes took their toll. Ignorant of business procedures, some grantees found themselves swindled out of their inheritance, often by their own people. Dispossession occurred much slower than in California but had equally devastat – ing results. Ultimately, more than 80 percent of the grant holders lost their lands. 34 Legal chicanery was most pronounced after the Civil War, when the Territory came under the political domination of a group of unscrupulous lawyers and busi – nessmen who have been labeled the Santa Fe ring. Led by Thomas Benton Catron and Stephen B. Elkins, this Republican political machine was able to maintain its power from the end of the Civil War into the 1890s, the most corrupt period in the history of American politics. Based in the territorial capital, the ring was active throughout New Mexico, especially in Taos, Colfax, Lincoln, and Grant Counties. It included upper-class Mexicanos, whose support was solicited vigorously because of the voting strength of the Hispanic community—the territorial legislature was predominantly Hispanic prior to 1886. Although the ring eventually fell apart as it lost its political clout, its members reaped economic bene fits galore. Catron, himself a lawyer, amassed two million acres in property and was part owner of four million more. His greatest coup was the acquisition in 1883 of the Tierra Amarilla Grant near the Colorado border, which amounted to nearly six hundred thousand acres. uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu��u mexicanos 117 After it gained statehood, New Mexico was represented in the US Senate by the wily businessman, who died in 1921. Political rings arose in California, Arizona, and Texas after the Civil War, but none were as successful as the Catron machine. This postwar period saw the breakdown of law and order throughout the Territory. Violence was most pronounced in the eastern grasslands, where Texas cattlemen began to establish their ascendancy in the 1870s and 1880s. During these decades, they drove Hispanic stockmen from areas settled only a few years before. Often, the violence took the form of range wars between Texas cattlemen and Hispanic sheepmen. Perhaps the best example is to be found in the Lincoln County wars of 1869–1881, in which race was only one aspect of a complex and confusing series of events involving a multitude of issues. San Miguel County and the San Luis Valley were other areas that experienced extraordinary racial violence. At times, the bloodshed was due only in part to ethnic animosities, which appears to be the case in the deaths of two prominent rico political leaders: Francisco Chávez, a Democrat killed in 1892, and Colonel J. Francisco Chaves, a Republican assassinated twelve years later. As in California, though later than in the Golden State, New Mexico wit – nessed the rise of Mexicano bandits. Among the most notorious were Mariano Leiba of Bernalillo and Vicente Silva of Las Vegas. Although these bandits might not qualify as defenders of the Mexicano community, there is no question that the Gorras Blancas (White Caps) fall into this category. A secret Hispano organization operating in the northeastern section of New Mexico—their stronghold was San Miguel County—in the late 1880s and early 1890s, the Gorras were established to protect Mexicanos from Anglo encroachment of their lands. They engaged in a variety of acts of de fiance, including cutting fences and burning buildings. Despite their extreme methods, they were supported by some of the leading members of the community, among them the in fluential editor of La Voz del Pueblo , Félix Martínez, a resident of Las Vegas. Hispanos tried to protect their culture as well as their livelihood, particularly through the agency of the Penitente Brotherhood, which was speci fically dedicated to preserving traditional religious practices. The chronic shortage of priests in New Mexico during the Spanish period resulted in the formation of a number of cofradías or confraternidades (lay brotherhoods) that helped fill the spiritual vacuum. The most celebrated of these grassroots associations was La Confraternidad de Nuestro Padre Jesús Nazareno (the Confraternity of Our Father, Jesus the Nazarene), usu – ally referred to as the Penitentes. 35 The organization’s origins are obscure, some scholars tracing them to sixteenth-century Spain. But according to Fray Angélico Chávez, the Penitentes arose sometime in the late eighteenth century, introduced from the Mexican interior, and before too long the lay society dominated the vil – lages of northern New Mexico. 36 uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu��u the american south�west 1848–1900 118 In the meantime, the Catholic Church continued to be hampered by the chronic shortage of clergymen. Moreover, the few priests in the Territory set less than a shining example. Concubinage was common among men of the cloth. E�ven Padre Antonio José Martínez, possibly the leading Hispano intellectual� of his age, as well as the most respected cleric among his contemporaries, kept a mistress. After the American occupation, the new Catholic hierarchy determined that a thorough reform was necessary. The attempt to reestablish the Church’s authority was initi- ated in 1853, with the appointment of Jean Lamy as bishop of New Mexico.� The austere Frenchman was zealous in his efforts to accomplish his charge, as was his successor, Jean-Baptiste Salpointe, who became bishop in 1885. Both reformers, though united in their disdain of local religious observance and ethnic culture, accomplished a good deal, paramount being the foundation of a solid Catholic educational system in the Territory. Other reforms met with stiff resistance, most notably the attempt to rein in the Penitentes, who represented a mystical brand of religious zeal that has always threatened the Church as an institution. Its annual practice of corporal penance, however, was the reason the Church gave for its opposition. As the Penitentes were persecuted, they increasingly went underground and succeeded in maintaining the allegiance of the villages of northern New Mexico and southern Colorado well into the twentieth century. Its members looked to the Brotherhood to provide a modicum of economic security as well as to administer to their spiritual needs, �undoubtedly one reason why mutualistas were less popular in the northern Hispano villages than they were in other parts of the Southwest. By the late nineteenth century, the Brotherhood, while continuing its religious and social activities, also began to or – ganize politically. In many rural areas it was impossible to win an election without its blessing. Its foray into the political area, more than anything else, illustrates its transformation into a vehicle for the protection of traditional village culture. Ultimately, the preservation of a land base proved to be impossible, especially after the turn of the century, when much of the land in northern New Mexico was taken over by the federal government and transformed into national parks. Hispanos, though, had better success in protecting their traditional way of life. The historian Marc Simmons puts it best: “Gradually, of course, by a process of accretion, American ways made inroads. Yet the framework of Hispanic culture was kept intact and continued to serve as the principal point of reference by which the people viewed their past and measured the future.” 37 TEXAS Texas was the area where Anglo-Mexican relations were at their worst dur – ing the second half of the nineteenth century. Mutual animosity was evident since uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu��u mexicanos 119 at least the time of the Texas Revolt and persisted throughout the era of the Lone Star Republic, but it intensi fied during the Mexican-American War. Texans made up a major portion of the invading American force into Mexico, and when they committed numerous atrocities there, some Tejanos, probably the majority of the eleven thousand residing in the state, found themselves in sympathy with their old homeland, where many of them still maintained family ties. Naturally, the violence before the war continued afterward. The con flict was most pronounced along the Mexican border, where flagrant attacks on the Spanish-speaking community were waged with impunity. Diversity characterized the Mexicanos in Texas, just as it did in the rest of the Southwest. As Arnoldo De León ably demonstrates in a number of excellent studies, their experiences were markedly different in the three major zones of Te – jano occupation: San Antonio and surrounding areas (Central Texas), the Lower Rio Grande Valley (South Texas), and El Paso and neighboring communities (West Texas). 38 These experiences were largely dictated by economic considerations. 39 In Central Texas, Anglos came to dominate political and economic life imme – diately after its acquisition in 1836; certainly, this hegemony was established in San Antonio before the Mexican-American War. In the postwar period, when Tejanos lost their numerical edge, the rate of interethnic marriages declined, and the Tejano elite in San Antonio was able to preserve some semblance of power only with the greatest of dif ficulties. Often, in fact, they were forced to sacri fice the interests of the community in order to maintain their own status. “They comprised probably the most reactionary and sycophantic leadership to be found in the Southwest,” according to Juan Gómez-Quiñones. 40 During the Civil War more than twenty-five hundred Tejanos fought on the side of the Confederacy. 41 The erosion of the Tejanos’ land base continued after the war, and, as in other parts of the Southwest, it was accomplished in a variety of ways, including litiga – tion, taxes, and outright violence. Moreover, as marginal farmers and ranchers, the bulk of the Tejano population was especially vulnerable to economic downswings, necessitating land sales at below market prices. Tejano merchants fared no better. They had a dif ficult time competing against more aggressive Anglo rivals from the very outset, and their financial plight became precipitous after the so-called Cart War in 1859. Throughout the early nineteenth century, Tejanos had established a thriving overland trade between San Antonio and the Gulf Area, the merchandise transported on carts. This lucrative enterprise continued to be their exclusive preserve even after Texas entered the Union in 1845. In an attempt to break the Tejano monopoly, Anglo competitors initiated a series of physical attacks on the carreteros (teamsters) in 1859. By the time this violent campaign of harassment was stopped, many wagon owners had been forced to abandon their livelihood. The subsequent decline of the cart trade uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu��u the american south�west 1848–1900 120 was a major catastrophe for San Antonio’s Tejano merchants, who had invested heavily in the enterprise. The Mexicano population of South Texas, the Lower Rio Grande Valley, managed to retain economic and political power much longer than in the Alamo City, mainly because Anglos were slow to enter the region. Still, by the end of the century they too came to be seen as second-class citizens. The aftermath of the Mexican-American War saw a trickle of Yankee immi – grants into the region, most of them ex-servicemen. These newcomers tended to integrate well into the bicultural society they helped create. Typical was Richard King, a riverboat captain who arrived in the 1850s and acquired enormous hold – ings. The King Ranch eventually covered over eight hundred thousand acres. A benevolent patrón, King maintained the loyalty of his Tejano ranch hands, the Kineños , until his death in 1885. The same accommodation holds true for Mifflin Kenedy, who also built a ranching dynasty in the Lower Rio Grande but who, unlike his partner King, married a Mexican woman, the widow Petra Vela. 42 Even more successful than either King or Kenedy was their close friend and business associate Charles Stillman, whose growing economic empire based on commerce, banking, and transportation quickly extended across the Mexican border. “By the 1850s,” the historian John Mason Hart concludes, “Stillman was easily the richest man in Texas and the most important American capitalist in Mexico.” 43 The most consequential penetration by Anglos into South Texas, however, came at the time of the American Civil War. Their arrival signaled the beginning of the dispossession of native rancheros. Land was acquired through the usual methods, including marriage with the native elites. By the turn of the century, Anglo dominance in South Texas was not only economic but also political, as the machines that characterized political life along the border were controlled by the newcomers, Jim Wells of Brownsville being only the most successful of a host of ambitious carpetbaggers. Anglos entering South Texas were attracted primarily by the prospect of acquiring lucrative cattle ranches. The cattle industry in the United States boomed after the Civil War ended. The heyday of the Texas cowboy occurred between 1865 and 1885, when longhorns raised on the southern Texas grasslands were driven to northern railheads. During these two decades, beef prices soared and South Texas ranches prospered. However, the gradual expansion of the railroad network ulti – mately made the long drive super fluous. The cattle boom was over. Many ranchers went under, with Tejanos, owners of smaller holdings, being especially vulnerable. The end of these bonanza days was a catastrophe in more ways than one for the Mexican population of the Lower Rio Grande Valley. With ranching no longer pro fitable, farming slowly emerged as the economic mainstay of the area. By now many technological innovations had been made in agriculture; and in order to uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu��u mexicanos 121 compete, the expanding farms needed to modernize. By the late 1880s, commercial farming had made its appearance in some of the southern counties, initiating an economic revolution that would continue to unfold almost to the outbreak of World War II. Tejano ranchers, land rich but money poor, were at a distinct disadvantage during this transitional period. Only a few of them managed to preserve sizable holdings, among them Hipólito García and Dionisio Guerra. The fate of the rancheros was mirrored by that of their workers. Increasingly Tejano vaqueros, some of whom were ex-landholders already forced to accept a decline in status, were reduced to working as wage laborers on large farms, a process well illustrated by the sociologist David Montejano. By the turn of the century, the proletarianization of the bulk of the Hispanic community, continuously reinforced now by impoverished Mexican immigrants from across the border, was complete. Racial subjugation in South Texas was accompanied by widespread violence. Dispossession of Mexican holdings was often the result of physical attacks on na – tive inhabitants. 44 The Texas Rangers, instead of helping the situation, only made it worse since this constabulary was blatantly anti-Mexican, as the renowned folklorist Américo Paredes, relying on a vivid oral tradition, clearly illustrates; and selective law enforcement succeeded in in flaming passions on both sides of the border. 45 Some of this endemic border violence took the form of resistance to Anglo domination by Tejanos. The rise of Juan Nepomuceno Cortina (1824–1892), the most celebrated of the Texas bandidos, must be seen in this context. 46 Born in the Mexican state of Tamaulipas, Cortina was a member of a prominent ranching fam – ily with holdings on both sides of the border. Already embittered by the theft of local ranches by unscrupulous newcomers, Cortina was in Brownsville on July 13, 1859, when he spotted an Anglo city marshal pistol-whipping a Mexican prisoner. Attempting to protect the hapless victim, Cortina killed the lawman and fled across the border. Enraged by the incident, Anglo citizens of Brownsville initiated a reign of terror against “greasers.” Cortina, at the head of a small army, responded with a raid on the city in September, an attack that initiated a long period of virtual warfare between Anglos and Mexicanos. The so-called Cortina War took many lives on both sides of the border; but its chief victims were Tejanos, most of them innocent men, women, and children caught in the cross fire. Border lynchings and other atrocities became commonplace throughout the 1860s. While much of the fighting by Mexican raiders was mere banditry, motivated primarily by the quest to gain wealth, or occasions for personal vendettas, Cortina himself, as his biographers Carlos Larralde and José Rodolfo Jacobo convincingly argue, had a loftier goal: he believed he was fighting to vindicate the rights of his people. Most Chicano scholars attribute genuine revolutionary potential to Cortina’s movement. That the campaign never achieved this promise was due not only to the strength of the opposition—the Rangers were ruthless in their fury—but also uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu��u the american south�west 1848–1900 122 to the divisions among the oppressed people, who were separated by both class and, since they lived on both sides of the border, by nationality. His opponents included some of the most powerful Mexicano ranchers in the region, among them Laredo political boss Santos Benavides, an officer in the Confederate army. Inter – estingly, too, more than twenty Mexicanos served in the Texas Rangers during its long history. His ultimate failure notwithstanding, Juan Cortina, the Red Robber of the Rio Grande, became a hero among the residents of South Texas during his lifetime. Perceived as a champion against Anglo injustice, he was immortalized in a number of corridos (folk ballads), some of them still current today. Another Tejano of the time who also achieved immense renown, and appar – ently for the same reasons, was Gregorio Cortez (1875–1916), the subject of some of the most popular corridos along the Texas-Mexican border. 47 Born in Mexico, near Matamoros, Cortez moved with his family in 1887 to Manor, Texas. There, on June 12, 1901, he shot Sheriff Harper Morris dead after the lawman tried to arrest him for a crime he had not committed. Cortez fled, initiating the longest manhunt in Texas history. The fantastic ten-day flight, the subject of intense media coverage, ended when the fugitive was tracked down by Texas Rangers. He was brought to trial and sentenced to life imprisonment. After years of fighting the unjust verdict, the proud prisoner, now a celebrity, was pardoned by Governor Oscar B. Colquitt in 1913. The ballads commemorating Gregorio Cortez represent a protest against Anglo injustice on one level, but on another level, they are a tribute to all Mexicanos who had the courage to stand up for their convictions. Catarino Garza (1859–1902) is a third symbol of resistance from South Texas. 48 Garza was born in Mexico, like Cortina and Cortez, but he was raised in Brownsville, which he considered his home. A journalist, he constantly inveighed against Anglo injustice at home and political tyranny in Mexico, where Por firio Díaz ruled the country with an iron hand. In 1891, Garza recruited a small army in South Texas and captured the Mexican village of Guerrero, hoping to initiate a popular uprising. The masses failed to respond. Disillusioned, Garza and his men returned to Texas. Harassed by the authorities for the next few years, the hapless crusader eventually fled to Cuba, then to Colombia, where he died. Anglos did not penetrate into West Texas in massive numbers until the rail – road arrived in El Paso in 1881. Nevertheless, even before this date, they exerted a substantial in fluence on the area’s economy. In 1848, the Mexican population of the El Paso Valley was clustered in a series of small settlements along the river, of which El Paso del Norte was the largest. El Paso had had a strategic advantage from the very beginning since it connected the New Mexican towns of the Up – per Rio Grande with central Mexico. The opening up of the Santa Fe Trail had increased the volume of goods flowing back and forth along the Chihuahua Trail, uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu��u mexicanos 123 augmenting the commercial importance of the city, to the immense satisfaction of its Mexican residents, the Paseños . Mexican merchants from the south poured into the valley during the last years of the Mexican period to take advantage of the new business opportunities. The Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo established the Rio Grande as the inter – national border, leaving El Paso del Norte on the Mexican side. Given the huge economic potential of the area, it was not long before five small American settle – ments were established on the opposite bank, the most substantial of which were Magof finsville and Franklin. These villages grew slowly during the next few years. When El Paso County was created in 1850, San Elizario, a larger Mexicano town downriver, was made county seat. Franklin became the nucleus of a city soon to be called El Paso, incorporated as such in 1873—creating a problem of identity with its sister city nearby, a confusion cleared up only when the Mexican town adopted the name Ciudad Juárez, in honor of Mexico’s most revered president, on September 16, 1888. After the Mexican-American War, the Chihuahua trade was hurt by Mexican tariffs on American goods. The Apache were also a lingering threat during these years. Under these adverse circumstances, the area attracted only a small number of Anglo entrepreneurs. This changed in 1858 with the arrival of John Butter field’s Overland Mail, which revived the sagging economy of the El Paso Valley, encourag – ing immigration from the east. W. W. Mills, an early pioneer, recalled years later that relations between Anglos and Tejanos were remarkably cordial in the valley in the period between the Civil War and the arrival of the railroad. 49 In fact, West Texas was spared the racial strife that was endemic in other parts of the state during this era, as Anglos integrated well into local society. Like their predecessors, many Anglo newcom – ers during the Civil War married into Paseño society, thus creating a bicultural environment, which characterizes the valley to this day. Of course, these contacts were established almost exclusively with the native ranching and mercantile elites. However, the advent of the railroad would drastically alter the relations between the two ethnic communities in the El Paso Valley. A harbinger of things to come was the Salt War of 1877. 50 The source of this con flict was a recent Anglo monopoly of the Guadalupe lakes east of El Paso, as Franklin was now called, and the salt they produced, a commodity that the local Mexican community had traditionally collected free of charge. When irate residents protested, one of their spokesmen was killed, inciting the marchers to violence. The war took on racial overtones, much to the dismay of El Paso’s Anglo population, which constituted only one-tenth of the city’s eight hundred residents. After several Anglos were killed, Texas Rangers were called in and promptly took bloody reprisals. For a time, it uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu��u the american south�west 1848–1900 124 appeared that Mexico and the United States might go to war over the incident. In the end, Tejanos regained their rights to the salt beds, but the two ethnic com – munities remained estranged for many years. The Southern Paci fic arrived in El Paso on May 19, 1881, and the new line was soon united with the Texas and Paci fic Railroad, which linked the western part of the state to San Antonio. The coming of the railroad was undoubtedly the most momentous event in the history of West Texas. 51 As in other parts of the Southwest, the railroad increased property values and stimulated the local min – ing interest, which in turn attracted the inevitable parade of Anglo entrepreneurs and speculators. The city’s population surged in the next few years. El Paso was transformed into an Anglo town almost overnight. In 1884, the county seat was transferred from Ysleta, a city located in the midst of a string of Mexicano settle – ments to the south, to the mushrooming railroad center, a change that signi fied the end of Tejano political power in El Paso County. Economically, local workers were increasingly proletarianized and their wages depressed by the growing number of impoverished immigrants from Mexico—the arrival of the Mexican Central in 1884, linking the Mexican interior to the El Paso Valley, was perhaps as consequential as that of the Southern Paci fic. Recruited to toil both in mines and on railroads, more and more immigrants arrived throughout the 1890s, when El Paso became the major US port of entry from Mexico. By the turn of the century, the Gateway City, with a population of almost sixteen thousand, was again becoming predominantly Mexicano. One of the most valuable contributions made by Carey McWilliams in North from Mexico was to explode the myth of what he called the Fantasy Heritage. 52 As pointed out in this pioneering work, during the late nineteenth century, especially in California, there developed the popular romantic notion, promoted for economic as well as sentimental reasons, that before Anglo entry into the Southwest, frontier society basically consisted of two classes: the “Spanish dons,” a white ranchero elite, and “Mexican peons,” the Indianized masses. Those elements of the culture judged to be positive came to be identi fied with the former; negative characteristics were seen as typical of the latter. As McWilliams notes, there are many problems with this popular analysis. Historically, he has shown, the Spanish/Mexican dichotomy has been used to justify the selective discrimination of lower-class members of the Spanish-speaking community, while at the same time glorifying the Spanish presence in America. Moreover, the portrayal of the Hispanic elite was highly inaccurate. In point of fact, Indian blood permeated Hispanic society, from top to bottom, though clearly mestizaje was more complete among the lower classes. Another criticism of the Fantasy Heritage, one that McWilliams does not em – phasize enough, is that the class system was much more complex than the popular perception would have us believe. There were pobres and there were ricos, but by uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu��u mexicanos 125 the second half of the nineteenth century there was also a substantial middle class throughout the Hispanic Southwest. Although some of the middle-class elements were native to the area, nota – bly in the Upper Rio Grande Valley, many of them were recent immigrants, lured north by the prospect of wealth and security. Despite the common perception, Mexican immigration into the Southwest was not exclusively a twentieth-century phenomenon; Mexicans entered the United States throughout the second half of the nineteenth century. While most of these immigrants were impoverished, they were accompanied by more fortunate compatriots who had education and entrepreneurial skills, especially from the border states of Chihuahua and Sonora. NOTES 1. Judith Sweeney, “Chicana History: A Review of the Literature,” in Essays on La Mujer , ed. Rosaura Sánchez and Rosa Martínez Cruz (Los Angeles: Chicano Studies Cen- ter Publications, University of California: Los Angeles, 1977), p. 103. 2. Campa, Hispanic Culture in the Southwest (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1979), p. 184. 3. For the fate of Chinese communities in the aftermath of the infamous legisla- tive act, see Erika Lee, At America’s Gates: Chinese Immigration during the Exclusion Era, 1882–1943 (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2003). 4. Almaguer, “Ideological Distortions in Recent Chicano Historiography: The Inter – nal Model and Chicano Historical Interpretation,” Aztlán 18 (Spring 1987): 15. 5. Gonzales-Day, Lynching in the West, 1850–1935 (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2006), p. 206. 6. See Arnoldo De León, “Texas Mexicans: Twentieth-Century Interpretations,” in Texas through Time: Evolving Interpretations , ed. Walter L. Buenger and Robert A. Calvert (College Station: Texas A&M University Press, 1991), pp. 48–49. 7. For the only book-length biography, see William B. Secrest, Juanita: The Only Woman Lynched in Gold Rush Days (Fresno, CA: Saga-West, 1967). A feminist perspective is offered by Maythee Rojas, “Re-membering Josefa: Reading the Mexican Female Body in California Gold Rush Chronicles,” Women’s Studies Quarterly 35 (Spring/Summer 2007): 126–49. 8. See Handbook of Texas Online , Marilyn Underwood, “Rodriguez, Josefa [Chipita],” http://tshaonline.org/handbook/online/articles/fro50. 9. Ríos-Bustamante, “The Barrioization of Nineteenth-Century Mexican Californians: From Landowners to Laborers,” Masterkey 60 (Summer/Fall 1986): 32. 10. Camarillo, Chicanos in a Changing Society: From Mexican Pueblos to American Barrios in Santa Barbara and Southern California, 1848–1930 (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1979). 11. Rojas, Joaquín Murrieta: “El Patrio” (Mexicali: Estado de Baja California, 1986). 12. Pitt, The Decline of the Californios: A Social History of the Spanish-Speaking Califor – nians, 1846–1890 (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1970), pp. 77–82. “All the details of the story . . . can be doubted or disbelieved, because of conflict- ing, contradictory, fraudulent or uncertain evidence,” according to the historian Bruce S. Thornton, Searching for Joaquin: Myth, Murieta and History (San Francisco: Encounter Books, 2003), p. 30. 13. For an illuminating biography, see John Boessenecker, Bandido: The Life and Times of Tiburcio Vasquez (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 2010). uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu��u the american south�west 1848–1900