Sometime between the Big Bang and the discovery of the local ditch, I was reading about the Basketmakers.
I must confess I’ve always had a hard time remembering the various phases of prehistoric native culture. People are surprised. They think that because you’re interested in rocks you’d be interested in arrowheads - or projectile points as they’re now called.
I might be if they ever mentioned the rocks - the ones used and their sources. The first is interesting because of what it suggests about the body of scientific lore and the observations that built that knowledge about hardness, workability, and general geography. The second often implies the existence of trade networks or economic specialization.
But when what I read is details on corner notched or stem notched, my eyes glaze over.
I finally figured out the way to remember the phases: forget the points and think about the targets.
The earliest group in New Mexico were those using Clovis points to hunt mammoths, mastodons, and other very large mammals. They existed at the end of the glacial period, 13,000 years ago, when there still were such animals.
Next came the group who used Folsom points to hunt the animals that came next, the bison beginning some 11,000 years ago.
Some 8000 years ago, it’s estimated two-thirds of mammals weighing more than 100 pounds were extinct.
Natives still hunted animals like big horned sheep, but they had to supplement their diet with plant foods. Following ripening cycles of seeds and fruits became more important than following herds. By 7000 years ago, they had developed the first plant processing tools, the mano, metate and coiled basket. Hence the term Basketmaker I, now generally called Archaic.
When the climate changed yet again only the rabbit remained. By then, some 3500 years ago, a new body of scientific lore, one based on botany rather than zoology or geology, was substantial and people began growing their food, not hunting it. The development of one particular grass, corn, marks the beginning of the Basketmaker II phase.
Basketmaker III is marked by the replacement of the atlatl with the bow and arrow about AD 500 or 1500 years ago. Archaeologists, of course, always mention changes in farming and diet, housing, and the perfection of pottery. Oh, and of course major changes in projectile points with the change in the delivery system.
From there, the various phases of Pueblo life develop around AD 750 or 1250 years ago. That brings us to modern times, where my eyes have glaze over again.
Sunday, April 22, 2012
Sunday, April 15, 2012
After the Big Bang
Between the Big Bang and before there was an Earth, there was activity.
I’ll admit, the Big Bang is one of those phrases I’ve picked up since graduate school with no understanding and little interest. Remember, in college, I’d already relegated all questions about the origins of the universe to that class whose answers led to more unknowns, and I’d accepted a level ignorance that was willing to stipulate - the Earth exists.
However, in Early Earth Systems, Hugh Rollinson has explained one consequence I find fascinating, the creation of the elements.
According to him, during the Big Bang the first three elements in the periodic table were created - hydrogen, helium, and lithium - along with the hydrogen isotope deuterium.
The hydrogen burned to produce helium at temperatures greater than 50,000,000c degrees.
The helium burned to produce carbon and oxygen at temperatures greater than 100,000,000c degrees.
The carbon and oxygen burned to produce the elements up to silicon in the table, including sodium, magnesium and aluminum. The stellar core had contracted and temperatures had risen even more.
The silicon burned to produce the elements up to iron at 1,000,000,000c degrees, then the process stopped. At that point, heat no longer was generated. The production of additional elements would have used energy. Sodium, potassium and calcium are in the range between silicon and iron in the periodic table.
Once the basic elements existed, they fell into three categories:
* Gases - hydrogen, helium
* Ices - water, methane, ammonia, nitrogen
* Rocks - magnesium-iron silicates
The first are essentially from the first phase of element creation.
The second group uses products from burning helium. Water is oxygen and hydrogen. Methane is carbon and hydrogen. Ammonia is nitrogen and hydrogen. Nitrogen falls between carbon and oxygen in the periodic table.
The rocks come from the third and fourth phases.
The ice, gas and dirt were circulating in a circumstellar disk where temperatures were falling. When they reached 700c or 1420F the iron began to become magnetic.
When the overall temperature fell into the range of 227c to 527c, the iron-magnesium silicates and iron-nickle began condensing.
Within the next 10,000 years, the small grains were kept buoyant by the gases, and began accumulating through nongraviational electromagnetic forces.
Then, when enough atoms had changed, gravitational forces took over. By the end of a million years, larger clusters (planetesimals) formed into planet embryos, a process that continued until all the material was absorbed into a larger body.
At that point, the gas had been dispersed, and no longer acted as a cushion between the embryos. They began colliding with one another which produced energy (heat) which began melting the material.
At the end of 100 million years the planet was formed, roughly 4,537 million years ago. The segregation of iron from silicon continued to form the core which was complete about 4,535 years ago.
Notes: See entry on Earthly Beginnings for 22 November 2011 for core formation and the role of temperature and iron in the process.
Rollinson gives temperatures in Kelvin which are 237 degrees greater than Celsius, a meaningless difference at these temperatures; you could even think of them as Fahrenheit without loss of meaning.
I’ll admit, the Big Bang is one of those phrases I’ve picked up since graduate school with no understanding and little interest. Remember, in college, I’d already relegated all questions about the origins of the universe to that class whose answers led to more unknowns, and I’d accepted a level ignorance that was willing to stipulate - the Earth exists.
However, in Early Earth Systems, Hugh Rollinson has explained one consequence I find fascinating, the creation of the elements.
According to him, during the Big Bang the first three elements in the periodic table were created - hydrogen, helium, and lithium - along with the hydrogen isotope deuterium.
The hydrogen burned to produce helium at temperatures greater than 50,000,000c degrees.
The helium burned to produce carbon and oxygen at temperatures greater than 100,000,000c degrees.
The carbon and oxygen burned to produce the elements up to silicon in the table, including sodium, magnesium and aluminum. The stellar core had contracted and temperatures had risen even more.
The silicon burned to produce the elements up to iron at 1,000,000,000c degrees, then the process stopped. At that point, heat no longer was generated. The production of additional elements would have used energy. Sodium, potassium and calcium are in the range between silicon and iron in the periodic table.
Once the basic elements existed, they fell into three categories:
* Gases - hydrogen, helium
* Ices - water, methane, ammonia, nitrogen
* Rocks - magnesium-iron silicates
The first are essentially from the first phase of element creation.
The second group uses products from burning helium. Water is oxygen and hydrogen. Methane is carbon and hydrogen. Ammonia is nitrogen and hydrogen. Nitrogen falls between carbon and oxygen in the periodic table.
The rocks come from the third and fourth phases.
The ice, gas and dirt were circulating in a circumstellar disk where temperatures were falling. When they reached 700c or 1420F the iron began to become magnetic.
When the overall temperature fell into the range of 227c to 527c, the iron-magnesium silicates and iron-nickle began condensing.
Within the next 10,000 years, the small grains were kept buoyant by the gases, and began accumulating through nongraviational electromagnetic forces.
Then, when enough atoms had changed, gravitational forces took over. By the end of a million years, larger clusters (planetesimals) formed into planet embryos, a process that continued until all the material was absorbed into a larger body.
At that point, the gas had been dispersed, and no longer acted as a cushion between the embryos. They began colliding with one another which produced energy (heat) which began melting the material.
At the end of 100 million years the planet was formed, roughly 4,537 million years ago. The segregation of iron from silicon continued to form the core which was complete about 4,535 years ago.
Notes: See entry on Earthly Beginnings for 22 November 2011 for core formation and the role of temperature and iron in the process.
Rollinson gives temperatures in Kelvin which are 237 degrees greater than Celsius, a meaningless difference at these temperatures; you could even think of them as Fahrenheit without loss of meaning.
Sunday, April 8, 2012
Shadow of the Reconquest - The Ditches
Española is laced with overlapping, and sometimes crossing ditches when one diverts water from the Chama or Santa Cruz river in an area already served by another.
For instance, on the north side of town, the Hernández ditch leaves the Chama a few miles before Abiquiú and more or less follows route 84 to serve El Duende and Hernández. East of Hernández, the Salazar ditch leaves the Chama to follow the Denver and Rio Grande rail bed into town. The two cross just before the Chama meets the Río Grande when the Hernández returns to the river.
Soon after, the Vigil ditch leaves the Río Grande. It follows the old rail bed when the Salazar ditch moves inland. Just above the Valdez bridge, they cross when the Salazar returns to the Río Grande. The Vigil continues south to cross 84/285 as it turns north coming west over the Griego Bridge.
From there it goes east to empty into the Río Grande just above the bridge.
The ditches, like the land grants, weren’t planned; they evolved with necessity under Spanish and Mexican regimes. In the first decades after the United States controlled New Mexico, large grants like those given to Francisco Montes Vigil and his descendants were subject to intense litigation. Since fears of water scarcity led to the Santa Cruz dam in the 1920's, local ditches have been attracting the attention of speculators, developers and their lawyers.
Activity heightened after the San Juan-Chama Project became functional with the opening of the Abiquiú dam. Water rights for 20 acequias were reviewed in 1996 to ensure there were no unauthorized diversions of Río Grande water whose allocation was now governed by interstate agreements.
In 2009, users of the Chamita, Los Salazares and Hernández ditches were suing for an earlier date than 1714. Vickie Gabin argued “the Hernandez Ditch and the Salazar Ditch are part of one continuous irrigation system which irrigates the floodplain that lies south the of Rio Chama and west of the Rio Grande.”
Therefore, she hoped, if she could establish one piece had been in continuous use before the Pueblo Revolt, then the entire system would qualify for that date. Her basis was António Salazar’s contention that Alonso Martín Barba had claim to the land, which by implication must have been irrigated if it was claimed.
Unfortunately, if one looked carefully, one would notice Martín was living in Santa Fé in 1632 and his daughter María’s husband was at Zuñi around 1662. Further, Angélico Chávez said no Salazars reported to Guadalupe del Norte in 1680. It would be hard to argue continuous use.
It should also be remembered, though won’t be, the governors who made the grants were more concerned with their superiors’ expectations that they settle a frontier buffer with the French and that they reward important local mestizoes, than they were the accuracy of the claims. If they could guarantee Antonío Salazar’s loyalty and demonstrate the benefits of supporting the Spanish to others like him, they didn’t care who, if anyone, had the land before the revolt.
Even before the ditch dates were revisited, the Peña Blanca Partnership claimed the state law that allowed the Hernández ditch to refuse to give it water for an Española subdivision was unconstitutional. Richard Cook is a partner in the development group.
Española accepted its allocation level from the San Juan-Chama project in 1978. After that, the failure of some wells and the contamination of others by a dry cleaners, has reduced its supply of ground water.
In 2002, the city was floating a proposal that would have converted Los Vigiles Diversion Dam into the intake for a new drinking water plant which could then have processed the city’s allocation of Río Chama water.
In the same years, the city of Santa Fé was shopping for any available water rights to my local ditch. They hoped they could somehow convert them into increased access to Chama and Río Grande waters downstream.
The ditches sometimes seem like expensive, anachronistic subsidies for hay farmers, but when you see cities and developers start sniffing, you know they are more than artefacts of the local cultural heritage.
Chávez, Angélico. Origins of New Mexico Families, revised 1992 edition.
City of Española and Bureau of Reclamation. “Information Sheet” for the Drinking Water Project, Environmental Assessment, NEPA Scoping Meeting, held 25 July 2002.
Gabin, Vickie L. “Special Master’s Report on Priorities for Three Acequias,” filed in support of the defendants in State of New Mexico v. Roman Aragon, et alia, 16 December 2009.
Matlock, Staci. “Acequia Lawsuits: Granting of New Appeal Confounds Both Sides,” The New Mexican, 2 October 2007.
Wells, Stermon M. Watermaster’s Report for Rio Chama Mainstream, 2009.
Photographs:
1. Vigil ditch near the public library next to the Chama Highway (84/285), 20 August 2011.
2. Vigil ditch preparing to go under the Chama Highway, 10 February 2012.
3. Gate controlling entry of the Vigil ditch into the Río Grande above the Griego Bridge, 10 February 2012.
4. Ditch paralleling Vigil ditch near former Block-Salazar funeral home, moving toward the Río Grande, 3 May 2009.
5. Vigil ditch enclosed in metal fence in front of Frank Bond house, 20 January 2012.
6. Vigil ditch in front of Frank Bond house, 20 January 2012.
7. Vigil ditch before it crosses under the Chama Highway, 3 May 2009.
Saturday, April 7, 2012
Shadow of the Reconquest - Culture Shocks
Fifteen years in refugee housing in Guadalupe del Norte must have had some effect on people who were wrenched from what at become a relatively cloistered world and thrown into the more cosmopolitan one nearer the silver mines of México.
After Diego de Vargas resettled New Mexico with recruits from Mexico City and Zacatecas, he and the subsequent Bourbon governors introduced more changes.
Fernando Durán y Chaves, the younger, and his wife, Lucía Hurtado de Salas y Trujillo, were the only members of Angélico Chávez’s family to return. The Franciscan historian says after the Reconquest, men in his family were no longer called into political or military matters as they had been. Such institutions had probably become more professionalized under the Bourbon bureaucrats or perhaps they just required men with different ambitions.
The family response seems to have been retreat. Fernando lapsed into senility. In 1712, he physically attacked the alcalde mayor of Albuquerque, Juan González Bas, as a “perro yndio Griego” and “un perro mulato.” González Bas was the descendant of Juan Griego who owned the Alameda grant north of his Atrisco grant.
In a similar incident in 1759, the ancien regime protested when José López Naranjo’s grandson, José António Naranjo, was made capitán de gente de guerra, They claimed he was only the commander of Indian troops, not the descendant of a conquistador like themselves. At that time, Chávez says, many of his supporters lived in Chimayó.
Chaves and his wife discouraged their children from mingling with newcomers, especially those from Zacatecas. The one who did, their great-grandson Cristóbal Chaves, had to visit his sister at Laguna to secretly marry a woman from Mexico City. The other descendants were reduced to asking the friars for dispensations to marry cousins because of the “paucity in this Kingdom of blood quality.”
One man they would have shunned was Francisco Montes Vigil, the original owner of the Alameda grant. It wasn’t that he was an español. Lucía’s family had had its share of misalliances, especially the marriage of her great-great-grandmother, María de Abendaño, to the bigamous Diego de Vera, a marriage that made her husband her cousin. There was also the more recent involvement of her sister Juana with some Naranjo.
The problem with Vigil was that he represented the new ways seeping north. Chaves was passing on the values of a disenfranchised nobility that had been resisting the power of a centralized government since Juan de Oñate was deposed, while the other was creating a culturally inherited ability to exploit institutional rules, adversity and even subjugation.
Vigil apparently connived with Juan Paéz Hurtado to pad the register of names recruited in Zacatecas and pocket commissions. Historians translating the papers of Vargas say his large family was broken into three units, each presumably paid the 320 peso recruiting fee, minus a kick back. When interrogated later, Vigil admitted he’d enlisted men from gambling halls under false names for Paéz and that Paéz kept 100 pesos for himself.
After he sold the Alameda grant to González Bas, Vigil and his family moved to the villa of Santa Cruz, perhaps because he saw more opportunities in the north, perhaps because it was a less hostile social environment for a restored mestizo raised by a well-connected father in an urban center.
His son, also Juan Montes Vigil, requested land north of the Truchas River in 1754. The land had become available when the alcalde, Juan José Lovato, changed the boundaries of the Truchas Land Grant made to eleven residents from Chimayó and Pueblo Quemado, five Romeros, four Espinosas, Francisco Bernal, and Cristóbal Martín. Vigil was an official witness to that transfer.
This wasn’t the only case of Lovato, the nephew or son of Bartolomé Labota who’d come with Paéz, changing grant boundaries. When Pedro Sánchez couldn’t produce the defining papers for his grant in 1742, Lovato altered the border with San Ildefonso. A Vigil descendant, José Ramón Vigil, bought eight of eleven shares in the grant in 1851 for $20, a yoke of oxen, 36 ewes and one ram.
Francisco, or one of his descendants ended up owning land between that of José López Naranjo and António de Salazar, perhaps after Naranjo died and Vigil survived the Pawnee attack in 1720 or maybe after Naranjo’s only son, José António Naranjo, fled the area in 1731 after killing someone.
No one has said exactly how it happened, only that the land was known as La Vega de los Vigiles when José Ramón’s daughter, Josefita Vigil, married José Benedicto Naranjo. Naranjo sold it to the Denver and Rio Grande, who, in turn, sold some to Frank Bond for his livestock shipping facility.
Benedicto was the great-grandson of José Geronimo Naranjo, the grandson of José López Naranjo. His son, José Alejandrino Naranjo, married Delfinia Vigil. Their son, Emilio Naranjo, was born in Guachupangue, the area abutting the Santa Clara reserve on the north.
Alejandrino had gone to the smelters and mines in Colorado to earn money rather than raise sheep for Bond. He sent his son to secondary school in Santa Fé and college in El Rito. Emilio built the Democratic Party in Rio Arriba county after World War II when Spanish speaking citizens in the area finally felt they were free to vote as they wished.
The railroad, of course, brought men like John Block who married Sofia Vigil Valdez. They adopted Fidel Salazar, the son of José Ramón Salazar and Francisquita de Sales Atencio, to raise as John Block, Junior. José Ramón was 20 years old when he became a father. Sofia was his aunt. Block senior was the prime mover behind building the Santa Cruz dam.
The only men of comparable ambition in the Chaves family were the children of Cristóbal Chaves and María Josefa Núñez. Some migrated to Ceboletta County when the Navajo were removed and others went to Mora County after Fort Union was established to control the Comanche.
Angélico was born to the latter branch. He remembered asking his mother, María Nicolasa Roybal, if any of her family were hermanos. She said “the family had always been such good Catholics that they had no cause for the joining the Penitentes.”
When he asked about the family of his father, Fabián Chávez, they had slipped so far she said “Your father’s people were not even good enough Christians to be Penitentes.”
Genealogies drawn from various sources:
Naranjo:
Alonso > ? > Domingo/? > José López > José Antonio > José Geronimo > António José > José Manuel > José Benedicto > José Alejandrino > Emilio
Vigil to Naranjo:
Francisco Montes > Francisco Montes > Manuel Gregorio > Nicolás António > José Ramón > Josefita who married José Benedicto Naranjo
Durán y Chaves/Chávez:
Pedro > Fernando > Fernando >António > Tomás > Cristóbal > José Mariano > José Encarnación > José Francisco > Eugenío > Fabián > Angélico
Salazar:
Hernán Martín Serrano > María Martín > María ? > Agustín Salazar > António Salazar > Francisco Miguel Salazar > María Salazar who married Julian Lorenzo Salazar > José Julian Salazar > Juan Francisco Estevan Salazar > Pedro Ignacio Salazar y Valdez > José Eutimio Salazar > José Ramón Salazar > Fidel Salazar/John Block Jr
Vigil to Salazar:
Francisco Montes > Juan Bautista Montes > António José Montes > Joe Dolores > María de la Luz who married Lorenzo Valdez > María del Carmel Valdez who married Juan Francisco Estevan Salazar
Notes:
Bowden J. J. “Ramon Vigil Grant,” New Mexico Office of the State Historian website.
Chávez, Angélico. Chávez: A Distinctive American Clan of New Mexico, 1989.
_____. My Penitente Land, 1974.
_____. Origins of New Mexico Families, revised 1992 edition.
Kessell, John L., Rick Hendricks, and Meredith D. Dodge. A Settling of Accounts: The Journals of Don Diego De Vargas, 1700-1704, volume 6, 2002.
Shiller, Mark. “The Truchas Grant,” available on-line.
After Diego de Vargas resettled New Mexico with recruits from Mexico City and Zacatecas, he and the subsequent Bourbon governors introduced more changes.
Fernando Durán y Chaves, the younger, and his wife, Lucía Hurtado de Salas y Trujillo, were the only members of Angélico Chávez’s family to return. The Franciscan historian says after the Reconquest, men in his family were no longer called into political or military matters as they had been. Such institutions had probably become more professionalized under the Bourbon bureaucrats or perhaps they just required men with different ambitions.
The family response seems to have been retreat. Fernando lapsed into senility. In 1712, he physically attacked the alcalde mayor of Albuquerque, Juan González Bas, as a “perro yndio Griego” and “un perro mulato.” González Bas was the descendant of Juan Griego who owned the Alameda grant north of his Atrisco grant.
In a similar incident in 1759, the ancien regime protested when José López Naranjo’s grandson, José António Naranjo, was made capitán de gente de guerra, They claimed he was only the commander of Indian troops, not the descendant of a conquistador like themselves. At that time, Chávez says, many of his supporters lived in Chimayó.
Chaves and his wife discouraged their children from mingling with newcomers, especially those from Zacatecas. The one who did, their great-grandson Cristóbal Chaves, had to visit his sister at Laguna to secretly marry a woman from Mexico City. The other descendants were reduced to asking the friars for dispensations to marry cousins because of the “paucity in this Kingdom of blood quality.”
One man they would have shunned was Francisco Montes Vigil, the original owner of the Alameda grant. It wasn’t that he was an español. Lucía’s family had had its share of misalliances, especially the marriage of her great-great-grandmother, María de Abendaño, to the bigamous Diego de Vera, a marriage that made her husband her cousin. There was also the more recent involvement of her sister Juana with some Naranjo.
The problem with Vigil was that he represented the new ways seeping north. Chaves was passing on the values of a disenfranchised nobility that had been resisting the power of a centralized government since Juan de Oñate was deposed, while the other was creating a culturally inherited ability to exploit institutional rules, adversity and even subjugation.
Vigil apparently connived with Juan Paéz Hurtado to pad the register of names recruited in Zacatecas and pocket commissions. Historians translating the papers of Vargas say his large family was broken into three units, each presumably paid the 320 peso recruiting fee, minus a kick back. When interrogated later, Vigil admitted he’d enlisted men from gambling halls under false names for Paéz and that Paéz kept 100 pesos for himself.
After he sold the Alameda grant to González Bas, Vigil and his family moved to the villa of Santa Cruz, perhaps because he saw more opportunities in the north, perhaps because it was a less hostile social environment for a restored mestizo raised by a well-connected father in an urban center.
His son, also Juan Montes Vigil, requested land north of the Truchas River in 1754. The land had become available when the alcalde, Juan José Lovato, changed the boundaries of the Truchas Land Grant made to eleven residents from Chimayó and Pueblo Quemado, five Romeros, four Espinosas, Francisco Bernal, and Cristóbal Martín. Vigil was an official witness to that transfer.
This wasn’t the only case of Lovato, the nephew or son of Bartolomé Labota who’d come with Paéz, changing grant boundaries. When Pedro Sánchez couldn’t produce the defining papers for his grant in 1742, Lovato altered the border with San Ildefonso. A Vigil descendant, José Ramón Vigil, bought eight of eleven shares in the grant in 1851 for $20, a yoke of oxen, 36 ewes and one ram.
Francisco, or one of his descendants ended up owning land between that of José López Naranjo and António de Salazar, perhaps after Naranjo died and Vigil survived the Pawnee attack in 1720 or maybe after Naranjo’s only son, José António Naranjo, fled the area in 1731 after killing someone.
No one has said exactly how it happened, only that the land was known as La Vega de los Vigiles when José Ramón’s daughter, Josefita Vigil, married José Benedicto Naranjo. Naranjo sold it to the Denver and Rio Grande, who, in turn, sold some to Frank Bond for his livestock shipping facility.
Benedicto was the great-grandson of José Geronimo Naranjo, the grandson of José López Naranjo. His son, José Alejandrino Naranjo, married Delfinia Vigil. Their son, Emilio Naranjo, was born in Guachupangue, the area abutting the Santa Clara reserve on the north.
Alejandrino had gone to the smelters and mines in Colorado to earn money rather than raise sheep for Bond. He sent his son to secondary school in Santa Fé and college in El Rito. Emilio built the Democratic Party in Rio Arriba county after World War II when Spanish speaking citizens in the area finally felt they were free to vote as they wished.
The railroad, of course, brought men like John Block who married Sofia Vigil Valdez. They adopted Fidel Salazar, the son of José Ramón Salazar and Francisquita de Sales Atencio, to raise as John Block, Junior. José Ramón was 20 years old when he became a father. Sofia was his aunt. Block senior was the prime mover behind building the Santa Cruz dam.
The only men of comparable ambition in the Chaves family were the children of Cristóbal Chaves and María Josefa Núñez. Some migrated to Ceboletta County when the Navajo were removed and others went to Mora County after Fort Union was established to control the Comanche.
Angélico was born to the latter branch. He remembered asking his mother, María Nicolasa Roybal, if any of her family were hermanos. She said “the family had always been such good Catholics that they had no cause for the joining the Penitentes.”
When he asked about the family of his father, Fabián Chávez, they had slipped so far she said “Your father’s people were not even good enough Christians to be Penitentes.”
Genealogies drawn from various sources:
Naranjo:
Alonso > ? > Domingo/? > José López > José Antonio > José Geronimo > António José > José Manuel > José Benedicto > José Alejandrino > Emilio
Vigil to Naranjo:
Francisco Montes > Francisco Montes > Manuel Gregorio > Nicolás António > José Ramón > Josefita who married José Benedicto Naranjo
Durán y Chaves/Chávez:
Pedro > Fernando > Fernando >António > Tomás > Cristóbal > José Mariano > José Encarnación > José Francisco > Eugenío > Fabián > Angélico
Salazar:
Hernán Martín Serrano > María Martín > María ? > Agustín Salazar > António Salazar > Francisco Miguel Salazar > María Salazar who married Julian Lorenzo Salazar > José Julian Salazar > Juan Francisco Estevan Salazar > Pedro Ignacio Salazar y Valdez > José Eutimio Salazar > José Ramón Salazar > Fidel Salazar/John Block Jr
Vigil to Salazar:
Francisco Montes > Juan Bautista Montes > António José Montes > Joe Dolores > María de la Luz who married Lorenzo Valdez > María del Carmel Valdez who married Juan Francisco Estevan Salazar
Notes:
Bowden J. J. “Ramon Vigil Grant,” New Mexico Office of the State Historian website.
Chávez, Angélico. Chávez: A Distinctive American Clan of New Mexico, 1989.
_____. My Penitente Land, 1974.
_____. Origins of New Mexico Families, revised 1992 edition.
Kessell, John L., Rick Hendricks, and Meredith D. Dodge. A Settling of Accounts: The Journals of Don Diego De Vargas, 1700-1704, volume 6, 2002.
Shiller, Mark. “The Truchas Grant,” available on-line.
Friday, April 6, 2012
Shadow of the Reconquest - José López Naranjo
José López Naranjo had an even greater need than Agustín de Salazar to prove his loyalty to the authorities if he wanted to remain in the area where he was born. His father, Domingo Naranjo, had been one of the leaders of the Pueblo Revolt of 1680 and he’d personally refused to spend the exile in Guadalupe del Norte.
In June of 1696, he established his bona fides when his brother Lucas was leading the Santa Clara resistance to the Spanish. José killed him and brought his head back to Diego de Vargas.
His ancestry is an even greater puzzle than Salazar’s. According to Angélico Chávez, Lucas had the dark complexion of the mulatto Domingo. José did not.
I suspect his ultimate Spanish ancestor was Alonso Naranjo, a native of Valladolid with a “tawny beard,” who came north with Bernabé de Las Casas in 1600, with 10 horses and 22 head of cattle. He left no further record, but the name Naranjo migrated into the pueblos, probably through children abandoned to their mothers.
According to Chávez, the mestizo heirs had contentious relations with their pure-blood cousins. Jémez killed Diego Martín Naranjo; San Felipe killed Bartolomé Naranjo in 1680 because they feared he’d betray their planned rebellion; a two-year old, María Naranjo, was kidnaped in 1680. Her mother, Juana Hurtado, also held captive, was the daughter of Andrés Hurtado, the father-in-law of Fernando Durán y Chaves.
Incidentally, that wasn’t the first connection between Chavez’s family and the Naranjos. Fernando’s father, Pedro Durán y Chaves paid Pascual Naranjo to take his place on a military campaign against other Indians. Pascual fled to Guadalupe del Paso with his family and didn’t return.
I suspect one of the women involved with Naranjo or one of their daughters was the one who became involved with a mulatto servant or teamster and gave birth to Domingo. Even today, a woman who has lost her status or sense of self worth may become vulnerable or open to other declassé men.
There’s no reason to think Domingo was involved with only one woman, especially after he acquired power in Santa Clara, nor, for that matter, is there any reason to believe a woman involved with him was monogamous. Lucas and José may have had different mothers or different fathers in one household.
Chávez thinks the name came directly through the father, some mulatto who came north with one of Oñate’s men and associated himself with Naranjo, taking his name. That man then worked as a herder in the area of Santa Clara, where he met the woman who would become Domingo’s mother. He believes the progenitor was part Tlascaltec and versed in Aztec lore.
Whatever the truth, José showed a willingness to destroy Indians on behalf of his Spanish masters. In 1702, he was alcalde mayor of Zuñi and active in subjugating the Hopi. In 1704, he was commanding native scouts in the campaign against the Apache, the one that caused Vargas’s death. In 1715, he was fighting the Navajo.
Unlike Salazar, he never asked for a land grant. Instead, he either settled on land between that claimed by Salazar and the Santa Clara on the west side of river, or received some from Salazar through a sale, trade, or gift.
Naranjo married María Catarina Luján, the illegitimate daughter of Matías Luján of Santa Cruz, who might have been the son of Juan Luján and brother of Juan Luis. The latter had the land north of that claimed by Salazar. Matías had married Francisca Romero, but had a daughter by a native servant. However, Chávez said, there was another Matías Luján in the area married to Catalina Verala, so nothing can be known absolutely.
Naranjo died in the Pawnee ambush of Pedro de Villasur in 1720, which Francisco Montes Vigil survived.
Notes:
Chávez, Angélico. Chávez: A Distinctive American Clan of New Mexico, 1989.
_____. Origins of New Mexico Families, revised 1992 edition.
Simmons, Marc. “Trail Dust: Part-Indian Was Loyal to Spanish Cause,” The New Mexican, 11 September 2009.
Wild Horses Southwest Art Gallery. “History of the Horse in the United States of America's West,” gallery website.
In June of 1696, he established his bona fides when his brother Lucas was leading the Santa Clara resistance to the Spanish. José killed him and brought his head back to Diego de Vargas.
His ancestry is an even greater puzzle than Salazar’s. According to Angélico Chávez, Lucas had the dark complexion of the mulatto Domingo. José did not.
I suspect his ultimate Spanish ancestor was Alonso Naranjo, a native of Valladolid with a “tawny beard,” who came north with Bernabé de Las Casas in 1600, with 10 horses and 22 head of cattle. He left no further record, but the name Naranjo migrated into the pueblos, probably through children abandoned to their mothers.
According to Chávez, the mestizo heirs had contentious relations with their pure-blood cousins. Jémez killed Diego Martín Naranjo; San Felipe killed Bartolomé Naranjo in 1680 because they feared he’d betray their planned rebellion; a two-year old, María Naranjo, was kidnaped in 1680. Her mother, Juana Hurtado, also held captive, was the daughter of Andrés Hurtado, the father-in-law of Fernando Durán y Chaves.
Incidentally, that wasn’t the first connection between Chavez’s family and the Naranjos. Fernando’s father, Pedro Durán y Chaves paid Pascual Naranjo to take his place on a military campaign against other Indians. Pascual fled to Guadalupe del Paso with his family and didn’t return.
I suspect one of the women involved with Naranjo or one of their daughters was the one who became involved with a mulatto servant or teamster and gave birth to Domingo. Even today, a woman who has lost her status or sense of self worth may become vulnerable or open to other declassé men.
There’s no reason to think Domingo was involved with only one woman, especially after he acquired power in Santa Clara, nor, for that matter, is there any reason to believe a woman involved with him was monogamous. Lucas and José may have had different mothers or different fathers in one household.
Chávez thinks the name came directly through the father, some mulatto who came north with one of Oñate’s men and associated himself with Naranjo, taking his name. That man then worked as a herder in the area of Santa Clara, where he met the woman who would become Domingo’s mother. He believes the progenitor was part Tlascaltec and versed in Aztec lore.
Whatever the truth, José showed a willingness to destroy Indians on behalf of his Spanish masters. In 1702, he was alcalde mayor of Zuñi and active in subjugating the Hopi. In 1704, he was commanding native scouts in the campaign against the Apache, the one that caused Vargas’s death. In 1715, he was fighting the Navajo.
Unlike Salazar, he never asked for a land grant. Instead, he either settled on land between that claimed by Salazar and the Santa Clara on the west side of river, or received some from Salazar through a sale, trade, or gift.
Naranjo married María Catarina Luján, the illegitimate daughter of Matías Luján of Santa Cruz, who might have been the son of Juan Luján and brother of Juan Luis. The latter had the land north of that claimed by Salazar. Matías had married Francisca Romero, but had a daughter by a native servant. However, Chávez said, there was another Matías Luján in the area married to Catalina Verala, so nothing can be known absolutely.
Naranjo died in the Pawnee ambush of Pedro de Villasur in 1720, which Francisco Montes Vigil survived.
Notes:
Chávez, Angélico. Chávez: A Distinctive American Clan of New Mexico, 1989.
_____. Origins of New Mexico Families, revised 1992 edition.
Simmons, Marc. “Trail Dust: Part-Indian Was Loyal to Spanish Cause,” The New Mexican, 11 September 2009.
Wild Horses Southwest Art Gallery. “History of the Horse in the United States of America's West,” gallery website.
Thursday, April 5, 2012
Shadow of the Reconquest - Agustín de Salazar
Mestizos in Zacatecas like Francisco Montes Vigil had an easier time establishing their loyalty to Spain than those who’d lived in the colony before the Pueblo Revolt of 1680.
Agustín de Salazar was a blind interpreter for Diego de Vargas, who was described as “proficient in his mother tongue.” He demonstrated his loyalty in 1693 in Santa Fé when he warned his superiors about hostile actions planned by the Tano speakers. He was helped out of the city by Miguel Luján, the one who had land in La Cañada that Angélico Chávez thought was kin to Juan Ruiz Cáceres and Juan Luján, also of La Cañada.
His son, António de Salazar requested land in 1714 owned by his grandfather, Alonso Martín Barba, on the west side of the Río Grande near the villa of Santa Cruz.
As near as I can tell, these were lands settled by Hernán Martín Serrano, which means António had to prove his lineage to a man who was born in Zacatecas and came north with Juan de Oñate. He and his wife, Juana Rodríguez, had two sons, Hernán and Luis, who used the land on the west side of the river mentioned by Luis Pérez Granillo in his 1695 report on La Cañada.
Juana wasn’t identified by Chávez, so it’s not clear how or if she were related to Pedro Rodríguez and Juan Luján who came from the Canary Islands to La Cañada two years later. Rodríguez was a common enough name, but the overlapping names that characterized their families also marked her own descendants. However, the confluence of names is more likely the result of general inbreeding that developed over three generations in an isolated community.
In addition to the two boys, Juana and Hernán had a daughter, María Martín, who must have inherited land north of her brothers.
María Martín was poisoned by María Bernal, probably in 1632. The daughter of Juan Griego and Pascula Bernal was then the widow of Juan Gómez Barragán and romantically involved with María Martín’s husband, Alonso Martín Barba. Before María Martín died, she had a daughter, María, who later married Bartolomé de Salazar, the grandfather of Antonio.
That much was accepted by the governor who granted him the lands.
The life of the younger María was much of a mystery to Chávez. At one point he said she “was accused of scandalous conduct” by the Inquisition.
In one place Chávez said Martín Barba’s daughter, María de los Ángeles Martín, married Gaspar de Arratia, who was dead by 1631, when she was 22. Agustín de Salazar was 33 in 1698, which means he would have been born around 1665, when this woman would have been about 56 years old.
María Martín might not have been Martín Barba’s first wife; her brother Hernán was 25 in 1632. Alonso’s daughter, María de los Ángeles Martín, was 23 that year. He was married to Francisca de Herrera Abregna by 1634, when his daughter Ana Martín’s daughter, Ynez de Zamoa, married Juan López.
Chávez also said María de los Ángeles Martín, or a sister also named María, married Francisco de Salazar, or something close: the writing wasn’t legible.
Francisco de Salazar was executed in 1643 for his involvement in the murder of Luis de Rosas in 1641. Bartolomé de Salazar, the husband of María Martín and grandfather of Antonio, was dead before 1662. Neither Salazar is identified further by Chávez, probably because neither was inventoried as part of the troops with Juan de Oñate and Bernabé de Las Casas.
Elsewhere, Chávez said the María Martín who married Bartolomé de Salazar, may also have been married to Bartolomé de Ledesma, if the two weren’t the same man. Ledesma was dead by 1667 when her brother, Hernán Martín Serrano, was the executor of the second’s estate.
Bartolomé de Salazar was alcade for Zuñi and Hopi. He and María had a daughter, Juana de Salazar, who was half Zuñi. She married Diego Luján.
Although we usually assume it’s the man who fathers an illegitimate child with a native, in this case it may have been the mother. If Agustín de Salazar was 33 in 1698 and part-Indian, he would have been born around 1665, after Bartolomé de Salazar was dead, if we can accept any dates and ages from a time without records.
Agustín married Felipa de Gamboa, the daughter of Cristóbal de Gamboa and Antonia López, a Tiwa speaker from Sandía pueblo.
Their son, António, married María de Torres, the daughter of Cristóbal de Torres and Angela de Leyva, who moved from Albuquerque to Santa Cruz to Chama after the reconquest. Her brother, Diego, was alcalde mayor for Santa Clara.
Notes:
Chávez, Angélico. Origins of New Mexico Families, revised 1992 edition.
Granillo, Luis. Report for 12 March 1695, included Blood on the Boulders: The Journals of Don Diego De Vargas, New Mexico, 1694-97, volume 2, 1998, edited by John L. Kessell, Rick Hendricks, and Meredith D. Dodge.
Agustín de Salazar was a blind interpreter for Diego de Vargas, who was described as “proficient in his mother tongue.” He demonstrated his loyalty in 1693 in Santa Fé when he warned his superiors about hostile actions planned by the Tano speakers. He was helped out of the city by Miguel Luján, the one who had land in La Cañada that Angélico Chávez thought was kin to Juan Ruiz Cáceres and Juan Luján, also of La Cañada.
His son, António de Salazar requested land in 1714 owned by his grandfather, Alonso Martín Barba, on the west side of the Río Grande near the villa of Santa Cruz.
As near as I can tell, these were lands settled by Hernán Martín Serrano, which means António had to prove his lineage to a man who was born in Zacatecas and came north with Juan de Oñate. He and his wife, Juana Rodríguez, had two sons, Hernán and Luis, who used the land on the west side of the river mentioned by Luis Pérez Granillo in his 1695 report on La Cañada.
Juana wasn’t identified by Chávez, so it’s not clear how or if she were related to Pedro Rodríguez and Juan Luján who came from the Canary Islands to La Cañada two years later. Rodríguez was a common enough name, but the overlapping names that characterized their families also marked her own descendants. However, the confluence of names is more likely the result of general inbreeding that developed over three generations in an isolated community.
In addition to the two boys, Juana and Hernán had a daughter, María Martín, who must have inherited land north of her brothers.
María Martín was poisoned by María Bernal, probably in 1632. The daughter of Juan Griego and Pascula Bernal was then the widow of Juan Gómez Barragán and romantically involved with María Martín’s husband, Alonso Martín Barba. Before María Martín died, she had a daughter, María, who later married Bartolomé de Salazar, the grandfather of Antonio.
That much was accepted by the governor who granted him the lands.
The life of the younger María was much of a mystery to Chávez. At one point he said she “was accused of scandalous conduct” by the Inquisition.
In one place Chávez said Martín Barba’s daughter, María de los Ángeles Martín, married Gaspar de Arratia, who was dead by 1631, when she was 22. Agustín de Salazar was 33 in 1698, which means he would have been born around 1665, when this woman would have been about 56 years old.
María Martín might not have been Martín Barba’s first wife; her brother Hernán was 25 in 1632. Alonso’s daughter, María de los Ángeles Martín, was 23 that year. He was married to Francisca de Herrera Abregna by 1634, when his daughter Ana Martín’s daughter, Ynez de Zamoa, married Juan López.
Chávez also said María de los Ángeles Martín, or a sister also named María, married Francisco de Salazar, or something close: the writing wasn’t legible.
Francisco de Salazar was executed in 1643 for his involvement in the murder of Luis de Rosas in 1641. Bartolomé de Salazar, the husband of María Martín and grandfather of Antonio, was dead before 1662. Neither Salazar is identified further by Chávez, probably because neither was inventoried as part of the troops with Juan de Oñate and Bernabé de Las Casas.
Elsewhere, Chávez said the María Martín who married Bartolomé de Salazar, may also have been married to Bartolomé de Ledesma, if the two weren’t the same man. Ledesma was dead by 1667 when her brother, Hernán Martín Serrano, was the executor of the second’s estate.
Bartolomé de Salazar was alcade for Zuñi and Hopi. He and María had a daughter, Juana de Salazar, who was half Zuñi. She married Diego Luján.
Although we usually assume it’s the man who fathers an illegitimate child with a native, in this case it may have been the mother. If Agustín de Salazar was 33 in 1698 and part-Indian, he would have been born around 1665, after Bartolomé de Salazar was dead, if we can accept any dates and ages from a time without records.
Agustín married Felipa de Gamboa, the daughter of Cristóbal de Gamboa and Antonia López, a Tiwa speaker from Sandía pueblo.
Their son, António, married María de Torres, the daughter of Cristóbal de Torres and Angela de Leyva, who moved from Albuquerque to Santa Cruz to Chama after the reconquest. Her brother, Diego, was alcalde mayor for Santa Clara.
Notes:
Chávez, Angélico. Origins of New Mexico Families, revised 1992 edition.
Granillo, Luis. Report for 12 March 1695, included Blood on the Boulders: The Journals of Don Diego De Vargas, New Mexico, 1694-97, volume 2, 1998, edited by John L. Kessell, Rick Hendricks, and Meredith D. Dodge.
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
Shadow of the Reconquest - Land Grants
Colonial life after the reconquest was different than before; Spanish Bourbons were more interested than the Spanish Hapsburgs had been in making physical claims to their empire against forays by French Bourbons and the English.
Conflicts with Apaches and other hostile groups were no longer seen as acts of the unconverted, but as extensions of European politics. People who weren’t allies could no longer tolerated. Tano speakers were forced from the Santa Cruz area, then out of Chimayó. Land was opened, and people needed to colonize it.
Earlier concerns with the loyalty of Jewish and Moorish converts to the emerging Spanish state transferred to mestizos. A new class was defined, the español, which Angélico Chávez says meant an individual who had been fully acculturated into Spanish life and was restored to trust of the community.
The first man to request land under the new regime was Angélico Chávez’s ancestor, Fernando Durán y Chaves, the younger, who requested 41,533 acres in 1692 north of modern Albuquerque, west of the Río Grande he claimed had been settled by his father before the Pueblo Revolt. However, Diego de Vargas wouldn’t let him move there until he’d completed the Reconquest.
As it was, Chávez says, Vargas had to battle Apache who’d stolen Chaves’ livestock in 1704. He became ill during that campaign and died. The Atrisco Grant wasn’t completely secure until the Tiwa speakers living in Alameda, Puaray and Sandía pueblos moved west to Hopi territory where they joined the Tano speakers who’d refused to resubmit to the Spanish.
In 1710, Francisco Montes Vigil requested more than 100, 000 acres of Tiwa land north of Chaves and west of the Río Grande in return for his services in the Reconquest. He claimed “he was retiring from the army and had acquired a small start of cattle” and so “needed the tract in order to maintain his family, which was large, and also as a pasturage for his animals.”
Vigil and his wife, María Jiménez de Ancizo, had come north in 1695 in the group from Zacatecas led by Juan Paéz Hurtado. Vigil’s grandparents, Juan Montes Vijil and Catalina de Herrera Cantillana, had sufficiently established their ancient hidalgo lineage to be able to migrate from Estremadura to Mexico City in 1611.
His father, Juan Montes Vigil was an unmarried Zacatecan merchant wealthy enough to own at least one mulatto slave woman. He entered some real estate transaction there with Cristóbal Zaldívar, no doubt, some sort of kinsman of Cristóbal de Oñate.
When Francisco and his wife were interviewed by Paéz, they were able to satisfy him they were españols. They arrived in Santa Fé with their five children and a free mulatto servant.
Rather than settle the land, Vigil sold the Alameda Grant in 1712 for 200 pesos to Juan González Bas, a man descended from Juan Griego through his daughter, Isabel Bernal, who had married Sebastián González. Two years later, when he was about 49, Francisco divided 40 head of cattle amongst his children.
He remained active in the military. In 1716 he was with Felix Martínez in his war with the Hopi and in 1720 went with Pedro de Villasur to investigate French influence among the Pawnee. He was one of the few who survived an ambush. He was dead in 1730 at about age 65.
Vigil wouldn’t have been the only one to disguise personal motives in the language expected by a government trying to populate the frontier. Chaves may have said he was reclaiming his father’s land, but in fact he was requesting adjacent land. In 1705 he sold his patrimony to his sister’s husband, Manuel Baca, who owned the land to south.
Notes:
Bowden, J. J. “Town of Alameda Grant,” New Mexico Office of the State Historian website.
Chávez, Angélico. Chávez: A Distinctive American Clan of New Mexico, 1989. Chávez believes the reason Chaves sold the land was his favorite son had been killed there in an accident.
_____. Origins of New Mexico Families, revised 1992 edition.
Hendricks, Rick, John B. Colligan, Charles Martínez y Vigil, José Antonio Esquibel, Stanley M. Hordes, Richard Salazar, and Robert D. Martínez. Research on Monte Vigil published on Genealogía de México Weblog.
Conflicts with Apaches and other hostile groups were no longer seen as acts of the unconverted, but as extensions of European politics. People who weren’t allies could no longer tolerated. Tano speakers were forced from the Santa Cruz area, then out of Chimayó. Land was opened, and people needed to colonize it.
Earlier concerns with the loyalty of Jewish and Moorish converts to the emerging Spanish state transferred to mestizos. A new class was defined, the español, which Angélico Chávez says meant an individual who had been fully acculturated into Spanish life and was restored to trust of the community.
The first man to request land under the new regime was Angélico Chávez’s ancestor, Fernando Durán y Chaves, the younger, who requested 41,533 acres in 1692 north of modern Albuquerque, west of the Río Grande he claimed had been settled by his father before the Pueblo Revolt. However, Diego de Vargas wouldn’t let him move there until he’d completed the Reconquest.
As it was, Chávez says, Vargas had to battle Apache who’d stolen Chaves’ livestock in 1704. He became ill during that campaign and died. The Atrisco Grant wasn’t completely secure until the Tiwa speakers living in Alameda, Puaray and Sandía pueblos moved west to Hopi territory where they joined the Tano speakers who’d refused to resubmit to the Spanish.
In 1710, Francisco Montes Vigil requested more than 100, 000 acres of Tiwa land north of Chaves and west of the Río Grande in return for his services in the Reconquest. He claimed “he was retiring from the army and had acquired a small start of cattle” and so “needed the tract in order to maintain his family, which was large, and also as a pasturage for his animals.”
Vigil and his wife, María Jiménez de Ancizo, had come north in 1695 in the group from Zacatecas led by Juan Paéz Hurtado. Vigil’s grandparents, Juan Montes Vijil and Catalina de Herrera Cantillana, had sufficiently established their ancient hidalgo lineage to be able to migrate from Estremadura to Mexico City in 1611.
His father, Juan Montes Vigil was an unmarried Zacatecan merchant wealthy enough to own at least one mulatto slave woman. He entered some real estate transaction there with Cristóbal Zaldívar, no doubt, some sort of kinsman of Cristóbal de Oñate.
When Francisco and his wife were interviewed by Paéz, they were able to satisfy him they were españols. They arrived in Santa Fé with their five children and a free mulatto servant.
Rather than settle the land, Vigil sold the Alameda Grant in 1712 for 200 pesos to Juan González Bas, a man descended from Juan Griego through his daughter, Isabel Bernal, who had married Sebastián González. Two years later, when he was about 49, Francisco divided 40 head of cattle amongst his children.
He remained active in the military. In 1716 he was with Felix Martínez in his war with the Hopi and in 1720 went with Pedro de Villasur to investigate French influence among the Pawnee. He was one of the few who survived an ambush. He was dead in 1730 at about age 65.
Vigil wouldn’t have been the only one to disguise personal motives in the language expected by a government trying to populate the frontier. Chaves may have said he was reclaiming his father’s land, but in fact he was requesting adjacent land. In 1705 he sold his patrimony to his sister’s husband, Manuel Baca, who owned the land to south.
Notes:
Bowden, J. J. “Town of Alameda Grant,” New Mexico Office of the State Historian website.
Chávez, Angélico. Chávez: A Distinctive American Clan of New Mexico, 1989. Chávez believes the reason Chaves sold the land was his favorite son had been killed there in an accident.
_____. Origins of New Mexico Families, revised 1992 edition.
Hendricks, Rick, John B. Colligan, Charles Martínez y Vigil, José Antonio Esquibel, Stanley M. Hordes, Richard Salazar, and Robert D. Martínez. Research on Monte Vigil published on Genealogía de México Weblog.
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
Arroyo Seco - Human Factors
There are human factors affecting Arroyo Seco, but they are less dramatic than elsewhere.
A friend told me that before the bridge was built, the arroyo ran so hard it flipped a car and killed a friend.
Since they built the bridge, they’ve done things to protect the bridge and downstream residential property, including installing rock and wire reinforcements before the bridge. Below the bridge, they built levees on both sides to contain the flow.
Judging from the levees, the water must flow stronger to the right bank after the bridge. The area beyond is a wide wash.
Downstream the water may shift to the left.
The levee of that side become higher and wider, with more vegetation of both sides, presumably from more absorbed water.
Just before the arroyo crosses into the more recent alluvial soils, the water has carved an island.
The arroyo curves to the right, but there’s a spillway toward the left bank.
After the waters rejoin, the right bank is higher, straighter and more exposed than the left.
That flow continues to the confluence with the Río Grande, where the left side of the bottom is lower than the right and water flows back into the arroyo.
Monday, April 2, 2012
Arroyo Seco - Natural Influences
After I read Luis Granillo’s description of La Cañada with houses destroyed by an arroyo, I thought it time to see the rest of Arroyo Seco. I’d seen upstream parts that were accessible by car, but never ventured downstream from the bridge I cross to get into town.
The thing that has always struck me about this arroyo is that beyond the bridge it becomes the prettiest of the arroyos in the area, a wide sandy road winding between tree lined banks. Compared with the others, there is no deep erosion.
That may, in part, be due to human factors. This arroyo goes through residential, rather than pueblo land. The land owners are present, and probably much more likely to report people on ATVs breaking through fences and tearing by their houses. When I was walking in the arroyo, someone’s security system started screeching.
While early settlers must have grazed their cattle in the area upland from their irrigated fields, there may not have been the density of livestock there was in my area where ranchers were active and so less trampling disturbed the surface.
Perhaps more important, there are no major irrigation ditches dumping into the arroyo. Instead, waters are directed toward the Río Grande. The only one I know is the runoff from a lateral that drains from the acequia that comes to my area. The ditch is now buried and comes under the road, then the pipe just stops, leaving the water to find its way to the arroyo.
A large cottonwood has grown and directed its path.
The natural ditch is narrow and deep, but has little impact on the arroyo. The most it has done is expose some of the underlying rocks and pebbles.
When I looked at Daniel Koning’s geological map of the area, I realized there were also some historic reasons for the differences in this arroyo. Most of the settled land in the area is alluvium from the middle to upper Holocene that “generally supports junipers and grass” but with limited soil development.
Near the river most areas are more recent deposits that “supports sparser plant growth, particularly in regards to grass and trees, but more abundant woody shrubs.”
This arroyo is different in two ways. The confluence with the Río Grande is more subject to annual deposits, so, Koning says, the surface is “not vegetated and there is no soil development.”
The upstream banks are an upper Holocene deposit that Koning thinks “is probably related to regional arroyo incision and stream complex response phenomena that episodically occurred over the last several hundred years (since 800 to 2,000 years ago in the Rio Tesuque drainage).”
One forgets this arroyo has its origins in the Tertiary badland watershed with the Pojoaque River, while the arroyos near my house arises in closer Tertiary sedimentary ridges. Whatever those differences in rocks, which Koning defines in detail, the effect is the banks do not erode as easily.
Friday, March 30, 2012
La Cañada - Land Use
The actual land use patterns in the La Cañada settlement before the Pueblo Revolt of 1680 are difficult to determine for two reasons. It’s not clear if differences in treatment of one man’s land from another’s resulted from actual differences or differences in reporting by Luis Pérez Granillo as his entries became repetitive. Second, it doesn’t appear the translators were consistent in their uses of English and Spanish words.
Still, Granillo seems to have described a settlement that was an embryo of what would emerge after the reconquest when the colony regulated the land allocations of community land grants. Alvar Carlson has described that in some detail in The Spanish-American Homeland.
According to him, land would come to be allocated in strips 420' wide running between highlands and irrigation ditches, so each farmer had access to bottom lands where he could grow chile, beans and corn on the heavier, more fertile soils, upper lands where he could grow fruit trees on the coarser soils, and grazing lands without irrigation. Houses were built between the farm land and the fruit land, and roads were up land on non-productive soil.
The average width was probably less a matter of legal precedent, than the amount of land that could effectively be watered by an irrigation branch. Carlson said the fields could be any length, depending on the topography.
The most important difference between La Cañada and the later long lots is there was no acequia system with a main ditch above the settlement with laterals distributing water downslope to settlers. Instead, Granillo suggested there was a single canal with homesteads of both sides.
No matter how level the land, those on the down stream side to the north would have had more moisture, especially since they were also closer to the Santa Cruz river from whence moisture could migrate under ground. They would also have had potentially more fertile land.
As it happens, Granillo indicates most of those people had suertes or agricultural lands or irrigation. The three terms were synonymous, and referred to land that could grow corn, wheat or other crops that required water. The people on the other side of the canal were said to have had lands that could support a family.
If the settlement was between the mound and the Río Grande as I suspect, it was a triangular area with the apex to the east. Men on both sides of the canal at the west end were said to have pastures or vegas. Again the two terms were synonymous. They may all have been on the less productive, more recent quaternary soils next to the Santa Cruz and Río Grande rivers where animals could forage the scrub.
The houses that were damaged by water were at the narrow end on the mound or south side. It’s likely, the men didn’t have long enough lots to build out of harm’s way. I have no idea if the use of house and houses implied more than one dwelling, or more than one building on a holding.
Carlson believes long lots developed from the rigors of farming in an arid environment and that the earlier development of such lots by the French in the 1630's in Quebec was an independent invention.
There is much to be said for that view. When Granillo was saying the larger holdings could be subdivided, it’s clear he meant they should be split lengthwise.
However, when this land use pattern is compared to that of the later Americans who came and dammed rivers to keep the water to themselves and starved those downriver or fenced common pasture lands, it’s also clear there was a cultural component in the development of long lots.
The La Cañada settlers did not believe every man in the settlement should have an equal amount of land - some had enough frontage for three along the canal, and some had barely enough for one. Some had land elsewhere and weren’t dependent on just this acreage, and some were truly yeomen.
After the reconquest, the colony would make two kinds of grants - large land grants to men like the Martín Serranos and regulated community grants described by Carlson for settlers without resources. In a sense, the latter continued Santa Fé’s early promise that every settler should be given two lots for a house and garden, two suertes for crops, and four large caballerias for grazing.
The important difference between the two periods is that the government of Spain transferred to the French Bourbons soon after the reconquest and French bureaucratic values were probably filtering through, at least in the written protocols for the community grants.
The La Cañada settlers did not have a strong sense of community or common cause, although they did care about some of their kin and their children married neighbors. They probably owed their views of equal access to water to the Moors. However, like the French, they did create a settlement where every family had access to water and every type of land needed to grow food.
Land descriptions (Name, number of families the land would support, buildings that had existed, irrigated land, unirrigated land):
North side, from west to east
* Miguel Luján - 1 - houses - lands for agriculture and irrigation - pastures
* Marcos de Herrera - 1 - no dwelling - suerte, agricultural fields
* Nicolás de la Cruz - 1 - dwelling - lot, agricultural fields - pastures
* Melchor de Archuleta - 1 - house - agricultural field - pastures
* Juan Griego - 2 - no mention - suerte - pastures
* Sebastián González - 3 - no mention - lands
* Francisco Xavier - 2 - houses, torreón - ample lands
* Pedro de la Cruz - 1- house - lands
South side, from east to west
* Bartolomé Montoya 1- house, arroyo damage - lands
* Diego López - 1 - house, torreón - lands
* Marcos de Herrera - 1 - house, destroyed by arroyo - land
* Convento of Santa Clara pueblo - suerte
* Francisco Gómez Robledo - 1 - house
* Ambrosio Sáez - 3 - dwellings - land planted by natives - vega
* Agustín Romero - 1 - not mention - fields - middle of vega
Notes:
Carlson, Alvar W. The Spanish-American Homeland, 1990.
Granillo, Luis. Report for 12 March 1695 describing the settlement of La Cañada, included in Blood on the Boulders: The Journals of Don Diego De Vargas, New Mexico, 1694-97, volume 2, 1998, edited by John L. Kessell, Rick Hendricks, and Meredith D. Dodge.
Photographs:
1. Simple irrigation system in Cundiyo valley, 23 March 2012; the Río Frijoles is flowing across the photograph (you can just see some water in the center back) and irrigation channels have been dug to both sides (marked by taller vegetation). The land hasn’t been leveled; it’s used for pasturage. Horses were there last week.
2. Long lot near La Puebla, 23 March 2012. The Santa Cruz river is at the back, before the Tertiary mound, where the cottonwoods are growing. There is probably a ditch to the right, marked by the red branches of sandbar willow.
Still, Granillo seems to have described a settlement that was an embryo of what would emerge after the reconquest when the colony regulated the land allocations of community land grants. Alvar Carlson has described that in some detail in The Spanish-American Homeland.
According to him, land would come to be allocated in strips 420' wide running between highlands and irrigation ditches, so each farmer had access to bottom lands where he could grow chile, beans and corn on the heavier, more fertile soils, upper lands where he could grow fruit trees on the coarser soils, and grazing lands without irrigation. Houses were built between the farm land and the fruit land, and roads were up land on non-productive soil.
The average width was probably less a matter of legal precedent, than the amount of land that could effectively be watered by an irrigation branch. Carlson said the fields could be any length, depending on the topography.
The most important difference between La Cañada and the later long lots is there was no acequia system with a main ditch above the settlement with laterals distributing water downslope to settlers. Instead, Granillo suggested there was a single canal with homesteads of both sides.
No matter how level the land, those on the down stream side to the north would have had more moisture, especially since they were also closer to the Santa Cruz river from whence moisture could migrate under ground. They would also have had potentially more fertile land.
As it happens, Granillo indicates most of those people had suertes or agricultural lands or irrigation. The three terms were synonymous, and referred to land that could grow corn, wheat or other crops that required water. The people on the other side of the canal were said to have had lands that could support a family.
If the settlement was between the mound and the Río Grande as I suspect, it was a triangular area with the apex to the east. Men on both sides of the canal at the west end were said to have pastures or vegas. Again the two terms were synonymous. They may all have been on the less productive, more recent quaternary soils next to the Santa Cruz and Río Grande rivers where animals could forage the scrub.
The houses that were damaged by water were at the narrow end on the mound or south side. It’s likely, the men didn’t have long enough lots to build out of harm’s way. I have no idea if the use of house and houses implied more than one dwelling, or more than one building on a holding.
Carlson believes long lots developed from the rigors of farming in an arid environment and that the earlier development of such lots by the French in the 1630's in Quebec was an independent invention.
There is much to be said for that view. When Granillo was saying the larger holdings could be subdivided, it’s clear he meant they should be split lengthwise.
However, when this land use pattern is compared to that of the later Americans who came and dammed rivers to keep the water to themselves and starved those downriver or fenced common pasture lands, it’s also clear there was a cultural component in the development of long lots.
The La Cañada settlers did not believe every man in the settlement should have an equal amount of land - some had enough frontage for three along the canal, and some had barely enough for one. Some had land elsewhere and weren’t dependent on just this acreage, and some were truly yeomen.
After the reconquest, the colony would make two kinds of grants - large land grants to men like the Martín Serranos and regulated community grants described by Carlson for settlers without resources. In a sense, the latter continued Santa Fé’s early promise that every settler should be given two lots for a house and garden, two suertes for crops, and four large caballerias for grazing.
The important difference between the two periods is that the government of Spain transferred to the French Bourbons soon after the reconquest and French bureaucratic values were probably filtering through, at least in the written protocols for the community grants.
The La Cañada settlers did not have a strong sense of community or common cause, although they did care about some of their kin and their children married neighbors. They probably owed their views of equal access to water to the Moors. However, like the French, they did create a settlement where every family had access to water and every type of land needed to grow food.
Land descriptions (Name, number of families the land would support, buildings that had existed, irrigated land, unirrigated land):
North side, from west to east
* Miguel Luján - 1 - houses - lands for agriculture and irrigation - pastures
* Marcos de Herrera - 1 - no dwelling - suerte, agricultural fields
* Nicolás de la Cruz - 1 - dwelling - lot, agricultural fields - pastures
* Melchor de Archuleta - 1 - house - agricultural field - pastures
* Juan Griego - 2 - no mention - suerte - pastures
* Sebastián González - 3 - no mention - lands
* Francisco Xavier - 2 - houses, torreón - ample lands
* Pedro de la Cruz - 1- house - lands
South side, from east to west
* Bartolomé Montoya 1- house, arroyo damage - lands
* Diego López - 1 - house, torreón - lands
* Marcos de Herrera - 1 - house, destroyed by arroyo - land
* Convento of Santa Clara pueblo - suerte
* Francisco Gómez Robledo - 1 - house
* Ambrosio Sáez - 3 - dwellings - land planted by natives - vega
* Agustín Romero - 1 - not mention - fields - middle of vega
Notes:
Carlson, Alvar W. The Spanish-American Homeland, 1990.
Granillo, Luis. Report for 12 March 1695 describing the settlement of La Cañada, included in Blood on the Boulders: The Journals of Don Diego De Vargas, New Mexico, 1694-97, volume 2, 1998, edited by John L. Kessell, Rick Hendricks, and Meredith D. Dodge.
Photographs:
1. Simple irrigation system in Cundiyo valley, 23 March 2012; the Río Frijoles is flowing across the photograph (you can just see some water in the center back) and irrigation channels have been dug to both sides (marked by taller vegetation). The land hasn’t been leveled; it’s used for pasturage. Horses were there last week.
2. Long lot near La Puebla, 23 March 2012. The Santa Cruz river is at the back, before the Tertiary mound, where the cottonwoods are growing. There is probably a ditch to the right, marked by the red branches of sandbar willow.
Thursday, March 29, 2012
La Cañada - Location
Ever since I read Luis Pérez Granillo’s survey of the settlement of La Cañada as it existed in 1680, I’ve wondered where it was, beyond south of the Santa Cruz river.
As near as I can tell, the distance between the Río Grande and the badlands that enclose the Española valley on the east is about 2.6 miles that can be broken into three sections.
One runs from the main river to the great mound. Daniel Koning’s geological map of the area shows that while the immediate river bank is recent quaternary (Qay2), most of the land is older quaternary (Qay1). The modern village of San Pedro lies ninety degrees south of this area along the Río Grande in the older quaternary zone.
A second section runs directly between the north end of the mound and the Santa Cruz, south of the modern church. Koning says this land is also modern quaternary. Most of this land is now vacant.
Third, there’s a wide expanse of land northeast of the mound that runs east along the river to the badlands. Koning identifies this as modern quaternary. Sombrillo exists in patches of older quaternary land on the southeast margins of the area.
If one assumes for the moment, that a suerte, the unit of irrigated land for growing produce, was roughly 420' wide, then there could have been twelve to the mile.
Granillo indicated there were eleven units on the north side of the arroyo and nine on the south with some unusable land near the east end of the south side.
This would mean the community stretched about a mile along the river, somewhere in the 2.6 miles available.
It’s easy to think it was immediately south of the current church, which would mean it ran from the badlands west.
However, it’s just as easy to think the new villa of Santa Cruz was sited to the west, expanded east in the 1700's until there was no more usable land, then moved north to its current location.
The real problem with considering the location of the original settlement is the meaning of the word cañada in 1695. Today, Rubén Cobos defines it as “a dry riverbed; a small canyon in the sierra.” Others simply say it means an arroyo.
The Sangre de Cristo are too far for there to be a canyon on this side of the river, and they wouldn’t have settled along a dry riverbed unless they could have converted it into an irrigation ditch.
Some comments made by Francisco Domínguez after he reviewed the Franciscan missions in 1776 are more suggestive. After noting Santa Clara pueblo was “established on a fairly good plain almost like the one that extends from the Villa de la Cañada to San Juan,” he added:
“Toward the west of the plain mentioned here, there is a cañada that comes from the said sierra, runs to the east, and ends near the north side of the church, with its mouth at a distance from the pueblo.”
He then indicates the agricultural lands were “watered by a small river that runs through the middle of the cañada.”
He’s using the word plain to describe the older quaternary flat lands between the badlands and the Río Grande, and so a cañada can’t be that land. Instead, it sounds like he’s referring to the dry banks of a perennial river. They are distinct from the land between the church and the Río Grande, which might have been bosque or recent quaternary, and from wet banks that would have been called ciénega.
This leads me to think the original settlement was a little east of the Río Grande in the area now buried by 84/285 and the road over the Griego Bridge. Granillo says that after “crossing the Río del Norte to the right, I saw and found the hacienda that belonged to Miguel Luján.” In contrast he noted the Santa Cruz river was “about three-quarters of a league” from Santa Clara where he began, a distance of roughly 2.5 miles.
Today it’s difficult to distinguish any older settlement patterns from the overlay that accumlated along the Santa Fé-Taos highway that crosses the area at an angle. There probably are no houses earlier that the late nineteenth century; adobe was replaced when more durable materials became available.
Perhaps the best evidence of older land uses are the ditches that come directly from the Santa Cruz through commercial land, cross under the road and disappear in the hodgepodge of housing that’s developed in recent decades.
One goes along the parking lot of the Shell Station.
Another goes along the parking lot of the Zia Credit Union.
Although, they probably are also recent, they suggest a different orientation of settlement vis a vis the river than has existed since the highway was built.
The identity of the arroyo is a puzzle. I’ve seen no arroyos in the area north and east of Arroyo Seco. If could be something that ran off the mound that’s since been filled and blocked. Or, it could be something from the badlands.
It’s also possible it was the irrigation system that ran through the center of the settlement. Granillo doesn’t describe any ditches, and so he, or his translator, may have been using that term for the main canal. Like the modern ditches, it may have been too irregular to be called an acequia.
The houses that were destroyed then may have been too near the upstream end of the ditch and been destroyed when a surge of water came through. While the area was vacated after the Pueblo Revolt no preventive maintenance would have been done to any barrier or dam that would have protected the first buildings.
One can think of two reasons for settling somewhere south along the Santa Cruz rather than on the larger tract of early quaternary land north of the river that was developed in the 1700's. The mound would have provided some protection from both southern winds and unexpected visitors.
More important, a poorly constructed cart going north from Tesuque or San Ildefonso would have had to traverse a number of arroyos, including Arroyo Seco, to get to La Cañada but it wouldn’t have had to cross a running river. The route Domínguez described in 1776 was probably much older, and its fragments probably still exist.
“Going north from San Ildefonso, the road leads for a while among broken hills, with a little mesa halfway (it is called the mesilla de San Ildefonso) which stands on the left side of the road. It always runs upriver and in sight of the Río del Norte and finally comes out on the plain, where, 2 leagues from San Ildefonso, the Mission of the Villa Nueva de Santa Cruz de la Cañada lies.”
Notes:
Cobos, Rubén. A Dictionary of New Mexico and Southern Colorado Spanish, 1983.
Domínguez, Francisco Atansio. Republished 1956 as The Missions of New Mexico, 1776, translated and edited by Eleanor B. Adams and Angélico Chávez.
Granillo, Luis. Report for 12 March 1695 describing the settlement of La Cañada, included in Blood on the Boulders: The Journals of Don Diego De Vargas, New Mexico, 1694-97, volume 2, 1998, edited by John L. Kessell, Rick Hendricks, and Meredith D. Dodge.
Photographs:
1. USGS map for Española quandrangle showing Santa Cruz river between the badlands to the right (east) and Río Grande to the left (west). The county line goes through the mound. The red line is 84/285.
2. Fallow field back from 84/285 with the mound in back, 17 January 2012; it’s about a half mile due south of the river, and a quarter mile south of the boundary between lower and upper quaternary zones.
3. Land between the mound and Iglesia de la Santa Cruz de la Cañada, 27 January 2012; the white buildings are on the other side of the river.
4. Land east of the mound, south of Santa Cruz, north and west of badlands, 29 March 2012.
5. Ditch along side of Shell station parking lot, 20 January 2012.
6. Ditch along side of Zia Credit Union parking lot before it goes under 84/285, 20 January 2012.
7. Road going back to the Black Mesa looking south toward San Ildefonso, 22 February 2012. It meets the road in the middle which skirts a well-maintained fence protecting the mesa from trespassers. Someday, I may follow that road, but I don’t expect to get any closer to what is considered sacred ground.
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
La Cañada - The Romeros
La Cañada may have been hours from Santa Fé, but it wasn’t allowed to remain isolated. The Inquisition reached wherever there was a friar. Its few persecutions coupled with memories from Spain and México City were enough. Fear of suspicion kept society fragmented, even in times of crises.
The life of Bartolomé Romero and his family illustrates the many ways a cultural heritage of intimidation and informing was perpetuated.
He was born in Corral de Almaguer near Toledo to Bartolomé Romero and María de [Ad]eva. Stanley Hordes thinks the half obliterated name on his baptismal certificate may originally have been Benavedas. In 1574, the Inquisition in México City argued Diego de Ocaña was Jewish because his mother was a Benadeves and “the Xuárez de Benadeva family, Jews of Sevilla, is widely recognized in being of the generation of Jews.”
While still in México Bartolomé married Luisa López Robledo, daughter of Catalina López and Pedro Robledo. Robledo had been born in La Carmena, then moved to nearby Toledo where he sought confirmation of his pure Christian ancestry by becoming a lay collaborator, a familiar, of the Inquisition at a time when the Robledo name was still associated with conversos.
Whether or not they had any Jewish ancestry, Romero and Robledo were among the first to enlist with Juan de Oñate. Later, Romero and members of his family were called by the Inquisition to provide evidence against their neighbors and in-laws. Whether they cooperated because they were true supporters of the Franciscans, or because they adopted that role to deflect suspicion is a question best left to those who study human behavior under extreme situations.
In 1632 Bartolomé made his first recorded report. Alameda pueblo was performing “strange rites.”
Bartolomé Romero and his wife had three sons and two daughters. Ana married Francisco Gómez and María married Gaspar Pérez, a Flemish armorer who had close relations with the Apache.
María’s son, Diego Romero, is the one who was indicted with Gómez’s son Francisco, and prosecuted separately by the Inquisition for meeting with the Apache while leading the supply train that brought López de Mendizábal north. He was banished to Parral. His wife, Catalina de Zamora refused to follow. She was the daughter of Pedro Lucero de Godoy which made her María’s niece. When Diego remarried in exile, the Inquisition arrested him for bigamy. He died in jail in Veracruz.
María Romero gave evidence against Beatriz de los Ángeles and Juana de la Cruz, wife of Juan Griego’s son.
Bartolomé’s son Bartolomé and grandson Diego had been with another of the indicted conspirators, Nicolas de Aguilar when he was arrested. The others in the group were Andrés López Sambrano and Juan Luján. Andrés brother, Hernán, had died when he betrayed Beatriz and was bewitched.
Antonio López Zambrano testified against Francisco Gómez Robledo. Chávez doesn’t mention Antonio, but says Andrés’s daughter, Josefa López de Grijalva, was married to Lucero’s son, which made Gómez’s sister, Francisca, his mother-in-law.
Bartolomé Romero, the oldest son of Bartolomé who was with Aguilar at Isleta, married María Granillo del Moral, daughter of Francisco Pérez Granillo. A son and a daughter moved to the mining area of Sonora. His other son, Bartolomé Romero, married Josefa de Archuleta, then disappeared from the public record. She was the daughter of Juan de Archuleta.
He gave evidence against his daughter-in-law’s neighbors, Beatriz de los Ángeles and Juana de la Cruz.
Her father, Francisco Pérez Granillo, appeared as a government clerk in 1617. The livelihood of her brothers came from the supply trains after they were run by civilian contractors. Alonso Pérez Granillo had an estancia near Alamillo, but moved to Nueva Vizcaya by 1680 where he was the alcalde mayor of the wagon trains and Janos.
Francisco Pérez Granillo the younger was in charge of the wagon trains in 1661 and 1664. He was married to Sebastiana Romero, whose parents weren’t identified by Chávez. Their son was Luis, who was alcalde mayor of Jémez and Queres pueblos in 1680 and escaped from Jémez. He returned as Diego de Varga’s lieutenant and made the survey of La Cañada. He was childless; his wife didn’t return.
Tomás Pérez Granillo had African and Indian parents in Santa Fé and worked as a driver on the wagon trains. He resettled in México after he and his wife smuggled out the child of Juan Manso de Contreras. His relation to Luis isn’t known.
What is known is that he was an Inquisition witness against Ana Romero’s son, Francisco Gómez Robledo.
Bartolomé senior’s second son, Matías Romero, married Isabel de Pedraza, a cousin of María de Archuleta, daughter of Asencio de Arechuleta. He refused to testify against Gaspar Pérez, claiming ignorance of the situation, but María de Archuleta did testify against Beatriz and Juana.
The third son, Agustín, married Luisa Díaz. He died young and was buried at the pueblo of San Diego. He can’t have been the owner of the land in La Cañada that Luis Pérez Granillo described after passing the meadow of Ambrosio Sáez in 1695: “in the middle of that vega is the hacienda where Agustín Romero was settled at planting time, because he had fields there. One citizen with his family can live very well there.”
One can only assume Agustín was the illegitimate child of one of the Romero sons, perhaps even the dead Agustín.
He wouldn’t have been the only one. Louisa Romero married Juan Lucero y Godoy, while Pedro Romero married Juan’s sister, Petronila de Salas. Chávez didn’t place either in the extended Romero family, but also didn’t indicate others with the common name Romero had moved north.
The daughter of Francisca Romero and Matías Luján was involved with either Antonio or Bartolomé Gómez Robledo, the illegitimate sons of Francisco and Bartolomé. Chávez doesn’t identify Francisca’s parents.
Alonso Romero was a servant on the hacienda of Felipe Romero. Chávez says he was really Alonso Cadimo, and was probably a child of Francisco Cadimo, who came with Oñate. The boy was ransomed from the plains Indians and settled on Felipe’s estancia with his wife María de Tapia. Juan de Tapia had married Bartolomé senior’s daughter Francisca.
Domingo Romero was one of the mestizo leaders of the Pueblo Revolt at Tesuque pueblo.
The only man who was with Aguilar when he was arrested who did not witness against any of the accused was Juan Luján. His kin in the río abajo were already supporting the Franciscans.
Notes:
Chávez, Angélico. Origins of New Mexico Families, revised 1992 edition.
Esquibel, José Antonio. “The Rodríguez Bellido Family,” La Herencia, summer 2009.
Granillo, Luis. Report for 12 March 1695 describing the settlement of La Cañada, included in Blood on the Boulders: The Journals of Don Diego De Vargas, New Mexico, 1694-97, volume 2, 1998, edited by John L. Kessell, Rick Hendricks, and Meredith D. Dodge.
Hordes, Stanley M. To the End of the Earth, 2005.
Kessell, John L. Spain in the Southwest, a Narrative History of Colonial New Mexico, Arizona, Texas, and California, 2002; on Diego Romero.
Scholes, France V. “The First Decade of the Inquisition in New Mexico,” New Mexico Historical Review 10:195-241:1935.
The life of Bartolomé Romero and his family illustrates the many ways a cultural heritage of intimidation and informing was perpetuated.
He was born in Corral de Almaguer near Toledo to Bartolomé Romero and María de [Ad]eva. Stanley Hordes thinks the half obliterated name on his baptismal certificate may originally have been Benavedas. In 1574, the Inquisition in México City argued Diego de Ocaña was Jewish because his mother was a Benadeves and “the Xuárez de Benadeva family, Jews of Sevilla, is widely recognized in being of the generation of Jews.”
While still in México Bartolomé married Luisa López Robledo, daughter of Catalina López and Pedro Robledo. Robledo had been born in La Carmena, then moved to nearby Toledo where he sought confirmation of his pure Christian ancestry by becoming a lay collaborator, a familiar, of the Inquisition at a time when the Robledo name was still associated with conversos.
Whether or not they had any Jewish ancestry, Romero and Robledo were among the first to enlist with Juan de Oñate. Later, Romero and members of his family were called by the Inquisition to provide evidence against their neighbors and in-laws. Whether they cooperated because they were true supporters of the Franciscans, or because they adopted that role to deflect suspicion is a question best left to those who study human behavior under extreme situations.
In 1632 Bartolomé made his first recorded report. Alameda pueblo was performing “strange rites.”
Bartolomé Romero and his wife had three sons and two daughters. Ana married Francisco Gómez and María married Gaspar Pérez, a Flemish armorer who had close relations with the Apache.
María’s son, Diego Romero, is the one who was indicted with Gómez’s son Francisco, and prosecuted separately by the Inquisition for meeting with the Apache while leading the supply train that brought López de Mendizábal north. He was banished to Parral. His wife, Catalina de Zamora refused to follow. She was the daughter of Pedro Lucero de Godoy which made her María’s niece. When Diego remarried in exile, the Inquisition arrested him for bigamy. He died in jail in Veracruz.
María Romero gave evidence against Beatriz de los Ángeles and Juana de la Cruz, wife of Juan Griego’s son.
Bartolomé’s son Bartolomé and grandson Diego had been with another of the indicted conspirators, Nicolas de Aguilar when he was arrested. The others in the group were Andrés López Sambrano and Juan Luján. Andrés brother, Hernán, had died when he betrayed Beatriz and was bewitched.
Antonio López Zambrano testified against Francisco Gómez Robledo. Chávez doesn’t mention Antonio, but says Andrés’s daughter, Josefa López de Grijalva, was married to Lucero’s son, which made Gómez’s sister, Francisca, his mother-in-law.
Bartolomé Romero, the oldest son of Bartolomé who was with Aguilar at Isleta, married María Granillo del Moral, daughter of Francisco Pérez Granillo. A son and a daughter moved to the mining area of Sonora. His other son, Bartolomé Romero, married Josefa de Archuleta, then disappeared from the public record. She was the daughter of Juan de Archuleta.
He gave evidence against his daughter-in-law’s neighbors, Beatriz de los Ángeles and Juana de la Cruz.
Her father, Francisco Pérez Granillo, appeared as a government clerk in 1617. The livelihood of her brothers came from the supply trains after they were run by civilian contractors. Alonso Pérez Granillo had an estancia near Alamillo, but moved to Nueva Vizcaya by 1680 where he was the alcalde mayor of the wagon trains and Janos.
Francisco Pérez Granillo the younger was in charge of the wagon trains in 1661 and 1664. He was married to Sebastiana Romero, whose parents weren’t identified by Chávez. Their son was Luis, who was alcalde mayor of Jémez and Queres pueblos in 1680 and escaped from Jémez. He returned as Diego de Varga’s lieutenant and made the survey of La Cañada. He was childless; his wife didn’t return.
Tomás Pérez Granillo had African and Indian parents in Santa Fé and worked as a driver on the wagon trains. He resettled in México after he and his wife smuggled out the child of Juan Manso de Contreras. His relation to Luis isn’t known.
What is known is that he was an Inquisition witness against Ana Romero’s son, Francisco Gómez Robledo.
Bartolomé senior’s second son, Matías Romero, married Isabel de Pedraza, a cousin of María de Archuleta, daughter of Asencio de Arechuleta. He refused to testify against Gaspar Pérez, claiming ignorance of the situation, but María de Archuleta did testify against Beatriz and Juana.
The third son, Agustín, married Luisa Díaz. He died young and was buried at the pueblo of San Diego. He can’t have been the owner of the land in La Cañada that Luis Pérez Granillo described after passing the meadow of Ambrosio Sáez in 1695: “in the middle of that vega is the hacienda where Agustín Romero was settled at planting time, because he had fields there. One citizen with his family can live very well there.”
One can only assume Agustín was the illegitimate child of one of the Romero sons, perhaps even the dead Agustín.
He wouldn’t have been the only one. Louisa Romero married Juan Lucero y Godoy, while Pedro Romero married Juan’s sister, Petronila de Salas. Chávez didn’t place either in the extended Romero family, but also didn’t indicate others with the common name Romero had moved north.
The daughter of Francisca Romero and Matías Luján was involved with either Antonio or Bartolomé Gómez Robledo, the illegitimate sons of Francisco and Bartolomé. Chávez doesn’t identify Francisca’s parents.
Alonso Romero was a servant on the hacienda of Felipe Romero. Chávez says he was really Alonso Cadimo, and was probably a child of Francisco Cadimo, who came with Oñate. The boy was ransomed from the plains Indians and settled on Felipe’s estancia with his wife María de Tapia. Juan de Tapia had married Bartolomé senior’s daughter Francisca.
Domingo Romero was one of the mestizo leaders of the Pueblo Revolt at Tesuque pueblo.
The only man who was with Aguilar when he was arrested who did not witness against any of the accused was Juan Luján. His kin in the río abajo were already supporting the Franciscans.
Notes:
Chávez, Angélico. Origins of New Mexico Families, revised 1992 edition.
Esquibel, José Antonio. “The Rodríguez Bellido Family,” La Herencia, summer 2009.
Granillo, Luis. Report for 12 March 1695 describing the settlement of La Cañada, included in Blood on the Boulders: The Journals of Don Diego De Vargas, New Mexico, 1694-97, volume 2, 1998, edited by John L. Kessell, Rick Hendricks, and Meredith D. Dodge.
Hordes, Stanley M. To the End of the Earth, 2005.
Kessell, John L. Spain in the Southwest, a Narrative History of Colonial New Mexico, Arizona, Texas, and California, 2002; on Diego Romero.
Scholes, France V. “The First Decade of the Inquisition in New Mexico,” New Mexico Historical Review 10:195-241:1935.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
La Cañada - Society
The picture that emerges of the society that enmeshed La Cañada before the Pueblo Revolt in 1680 is of one with barely functioning institutions and a primitive economy, torn by feuds and jealousies, segregated into isolated pockets.
The church was absent. Mass probably wasn’t available in La Cañada. The nearest friars were across the Río Grande at Santa Clara, but assigned to meet the needs of baptized Tewa speakers. The La Cañada convento that Luis Pérez Granillo said was on land owned by that pueblo is a mystery.
Any records the church kept of baptisms, marriages and deaths were destroyed in the rebellion. What little Angélico Chávez has pieced together suggests without formal rites of marriage, sexual relations began early and weren’t supervised by parents. Indeed, fathers were often setting examples by associating with native and mestizo servants. Beatriz de los Ángeles was probably more important in enforcing mores than the friars.
The government only existed as a source of income for those who received patronage. The usual civic responsibilities devolved to others. Irrigation and roads would have been the primary infrastructure projects and were probably done with native labor. Lead for ammunition was mined at Cerrilos and Tecolate north of the Sandía mountains.
The primary function of governors and overseers of the friars was to make their charges, the colony and the missions, self sufficient, if not contributors to the overall Mexican economy. Each, desirous of promotion when he returned to México, fought for control of exports and the cheap Christianized Indian labor that subsidized them. In 1630, Franciscan Alonso de Benavides had reported a large quantity of piñon and noted:
“A fanega of these is worth twenty-three or twenty-four pesos in Mexico City. People who customarily sell them earn a lot.”
In 1635, the new governor, Francisco Martínez de Baeza, ordered mission converts to collect nuts for him to ship in the returning supply wagons.
In 1658, the governor, Bernardo López de Mendizábal, criticized the friars for wanting to ship livestock to México during a famine. He gave permission to send 1,000 head; the Franciscans sent 3,000 because they needed the money to buy “to buy images, organs, richer vestments, and other church furnishings.”
Most men came to the colony on military assignments, but only a few remained active. What they did the rest of their lives wasn’t recorded. Angélico Chávez says his ancestor, Pedro Durán y Chaves came with the contingent of 1600 and settled in Santa Fé. By 1622, when the río abajo had become safe for settlement, he had an estancia in an area now controlled by Sandía and Santa Ana with “vast grazing grounds” and mestizo and mulatto herders and laborers managed by his wife, Isabel de Bohórques Vaca, when he was called away.
The only trades mentioned in any of the biographies were blacksmiths and translators. The first were the armorers who kept weapons functional and, according to John Kessell, were the only paid military men. The appointment was eventually monopolized by the kin of Pedro Lucero de Godoy. The translators like Juan Griego and Juan Ruiz de Cárceres often had pueblo or Mexican Indian ancestors.
Servants and muleteers weren’t named in the families recorded by Chávez. He does suggest the first were Indians brought from Tlascala by Juan de Oñate in 1598 who settled in Analco, across the river from Santa Fé, and that local mestizos slowly replaced them. The men who drove the wagons and returning livestock were probably mulattos, who left their patrimony behind.
Medicine was left to women like Pascula Bernal and Beatriz de los Ángeles. With wills and marriage certificates destroyed, it’s impossible to know how many women died in childbirth, how many widows and widowers remarried, or how many children died young.
The well documented life of Lucero may or may not have been typical. He married at least twice, and each woman bore a child nearly every year. The first, Petronila de Zamora, died sometime after the birth of the third. She was about 30 at the last known birth. There are gaps to suggest others may not have lived long enough to leave a record. In contrast, the second wife, Francisca Gómez bore six children we know, again with gaps, and lived until the Pueblo Revolt with her mother, Ana Robledo.
Of the men mentioned in these postings who made it to Guadalupe del Paso, the largest number were in their 20's. The number drops for men in their 30's and 40's and again for those in their 50's. However, if a man could survive the rigors of middle age, he would likely have lived for years. Diego López del Castillo and Hernán Martín Serrano II were both in their 80's when they arrived. Juan Luis, who was in his mid-60's then, was still being called to testify in his 80's.
From many of the confused genealogies, it’s obvious many men like the Lujáns were willing to take responsibility for the widows and orphans left by friends and relatives, a social patterns Alice Games found in Barbados in the early years when men died young and few were able to marry.
The local community was part of Santa Fé’s hinterland, though it doesn’t seem to have provided any special commodities to it. The men who were part of the economic network had encomiendas and estancias elsewhere. Francisco Gómez Robledo gathered piñon from his encomienda at Pecos for López de Mendizábal in 1660 and was using Tabira to send salt to his San Nicolás de las Barrancas estancia near Belen. Juan Luján had his land in Taos where Francisco was an encomendero.
If La Cañada wasn’t important to Santa Fé, like any frontier, it attracted people who wished to live away from the scrutiny of governors and friars. The most prominent were ones like Juan Griego, Francisco Gómez Robledo, and possibly Sebastían González, with suspected Jewish ancestors.
Perhaps more important were the many wives and consorts who were Mexican Indians: Juan Griego’s wife, Pascula Bernal; his son’s wife Juana de la Cruz and her mother Beatriz de los Ángeles; Andrés Gómez Reblodo’s wife Juana Ortiz; and the women who came with the Lujáns, Francisca Jiménez, Magdalena and Maríana.
Under the veneer of large estates owned by men like the Martín Serranos and Juan Luis, this was an Indian village where women from different cultures sometimes feuded but probably all spoke some form of Nahuatl.
It was around this group that first-generation mestizos gathered on their small plots, confident they wouldn’t experience the humiliations they would face in Santa Fé. Chávez could only guess their identity, but like the crypto-Jews, anonymity may have been what they were seeking in La Cañada.
Notes:
Benavides, Alonso de. Memorial, 1630, edited and translated by Baker H. Morrow as A Harvest of Reluctant Souls, 1996.
Chávez, Angélico. Chávez: A Distinctive American Clan of New Mexico, 1989.
_____. Origins of New Mexico Families, revised 1992 edition.
Games, Alison. Migration and the Origins of the English Atlantic World, 1999.
Granillo, Luis. Report for 12 March 1695 describing the settlement of La Cañada, included in Blood on the Boulders: The Journals of Don Diego De Vargas, New Mexico, 1694-97, volume 2, 1998, edited by John L. Kessell, Rick Hendricks, and Meredith D. Dodge.
Kessell, John L. Spain in the Southwest, a Narrative History of Colonial New Mexico, Arizona, Texas, and California, 2002.
Scholes, France V. Troublous Times in New Mexico 1659-1670, 1942.
Scurlock, Dan. From the Rio to the Sierra: An Environmental History of the Middle Rio Grande Basin, 1998; includes chronologies that summarize research of others.
The church was absent. Mass probably wasn’t available in La Cañada. The nearest friars were across the Río Grande at Santa Clara, but assigned to meet the needs of baptized Tewa speakers. The La Cañada convento that Luis Pérez Granillo said was on land owned by that pueblo is a mystery.
Any records the church kept of baptisms, marriages and deaths were destroyed in the rebellion. What little Angélico Chávez has pieced together suggests without formal rites of marriage, sexual relations began early and weren’t supervised by parents. Indeed, fathers were often setting examples by associating with native and mestizo servants. Beatriz de los Ángeles was probably more important in enforcing mores than the friars.
The government only existed as a source of income for those who received patronage. The usual civic responsibilities devolved to others. Irrigation and roads would have been the primary infrastructure projects and were probably done with native labor. Lead for ammunition was mined at Cerrilos and Tecolate north of the Sandía mountains.
The primary function of governors and overseers of the friars was to make their charges, the colony and the missions, self sufficient, if not contributors to the overall Mexican economy. Each, desirous of promotion when he returned to México, fought for control of exports and the cheap Christianized Indian labor that subsidized them. In 1630, Franciscan Alonso de Benavides had reported a large quantity of piñon and noted:
“A fanega of these is worth twenty-three or twenty-four pesos in Mexico City. People who customarily sell them earn a lot.”
In 1635, the new governor, Francisco Martínez de Baeza, ordered mission converts to collect nuts for him to ship in the returning supply wagons.
In 1658, the governor, Bernardo López de Mendizábal, criticized the friars for wanting to ship livestock to México during a famine. He gave permission to send 1,000 head; the Franciscans sent 3,000 because they needed the money to buy “to buy images, organs, richer vestments, and other church furnishings.”
Most men came to the colony on military assignments, but only a few remained active. What they did the rest of their lives wasn’t recorded. Angélico Chávez says his ancestor, Pedro Durán y Chaves came with the contingent of 1600 and settled in Santa Fé. By 1622, when the río abajo had become safe for settlement, he had an estancia in an area now controlled by Sandía and Santa Ana with “vast grazing grounds” and mestizo and mulatto herders and laborers managed by his wife, Isabel de Bohórques Vaca, when he was called away.
The only trades mentioned in any of the biographies were blacksmiths and translators. The first were the armorers who kept weapons functional and, according to John Kessell, were the only paid military men. The appointment was eventually monopolized by the kin of Pedro Lucero de Godoy. The translators like Juan Griego and Juan Ruiz de Cárceres often had pueblo or Mexican Indian ancestors.
Servants and muleteers weren’t named in the families recorded by Chávez. He does suggest the first were Indians brought from Tlascala by Juan de Oñate in 1598 who settled in Analco, across the river from Santa Fé, and that local mestizos slowly replaced them. The men who drove the wagons and returning livestock were probably mulattos, who left their patrimony behind.
Medicine was left to women like Pascula Bernal and Beatriz de los Ángeles. With wills and marriage certificates destroyed, it’s impossible to know how many women died in childbirth, how many widows and widowers remarried, or how many children died young.
The well documented life of Lucero may or may not have been typical. He married at least twice, and each woman bore a child nearly every year. The first, Petronila de Zamora, died sometime after the birth of the third. She was about 30 at the last known birth. There are gaps to suggest others may not have lived long enough to leave a record. In contrast, the second wife, Francisca Gómez bore six children we know, again with gaps, and lived until the Pueblo Revolt with her mother, Ana Robledo.
Of the men mentioned in these postings who made it to Guadalupe del Paso, the largest number were in their 20's. The number drops for men in their 30's and 40's and again for those in their 50's. However, if a man could survive the rigors of middle age, he would likely have lived for years. Diego López del Castillo and Hernán Martín Serrano II were both in their 80's when they arrived. Juan Luis, who was in his mid-60's then, was still being called to testify in his 80's.
From many of the confused genealogies, it’s obvious many men like the Lujáns were willing to take responsibility for the widows and orphans left by friends and relatives, a social patterns Alice Games found in Barbados in the early years when men died young and few were able to marry.
The local community was part of Santa Fé’s hinterland, though it doesn’t seem to have provided any special commodities to it. The men who were part of the economic network had encomiendas and estancias elsewhere. Francisco Gómez Robledo gathered piñon from his encomienda at Pecos for López de Mendizábal in 1660 and was using Tabira to send salt to his San Nicolás de las Barrancas estancia near Belen. Juan Luján had his land in Taos where Francisco was an encomendero.
If La Cañada wasn’t important to Santa Fé, like any frontier, it attracted people who wished to live away from the scrutiny of governors and friars. The most prominent were ones like Juan Griego, Francisco Gómez Robledo, and possibly Sebastían González, with suspected Jewish ancestors.
Perhaps more important were the many wives and consorts who were Mexican Indians: Juan Griego’s wife, Pascula Bernal; his son’s wife Juana de la Cruz and her mother Beatriz de los Ángeles; Andrés Gómez Reblodo’s wife Juana Ortiz; and the women who came with the Lujáns, Francisca Jiménez, Magdalena and Maríana.
Under the veneer of large estates owned by men like the Martín Serranos and Juan Luis, this was an Indian village where women from different cultures sometimes feuded but probably all spoke some form of Nahuatl.
It was around this group that first-generation mestizos gathered on their small plots, confident they wouldn’t experience the humiliations they would face in Santa Fé. Chávez could only guess their identity, but like the crypto-Jews, anonymity may have been what they were seeking in La Cañada.
Notes:
Benavides, Alonso de. Memorial, 1630, edited and translated by Baker H. Morrow as A Harvest of Reluctant Souls, 1996.
Chávez, Angélico. Chávez: A Distinctive American Clan of New Mexico, 1989.
_____. Origins of New Mexico Families, revised 1992 edition.
Games, Alison. Migration and the Origins of the English Atlantic World, 1999.
Granillo, Luis. Report for 12 March 1695 describing the settlement of La Cañada, included in Blood on the Boulders: The Journals of Don Diego De Vargas, New Mexico, 1694-97, volume 2, 1998, edited by John L. Kessell, Rick Hendricks, and Meredith D. Dodge.
Kessell, John L. Spain in the Southwest, a Narrative History of Colonial New Mexico, Arizona, Texas, and California, 2002.
Scholes, France V. Troublous Times in New Mexico 1659-1670, 1942.
Scurlock, Dan. From the Rio to the Sierra: An Environmental History of the Middle Rio Grande Basin, 1998; includes chronologies that summarize research of others.
Monday, March 26, 2012
La Cañada - The Lujáns
The Lujáns who settled in La Cañada created their own stratified social network of men with affluence, common folk, and those on the cultural margins.
Angélico Chávez believes the nucleus was Juan Luján, son of Francisco Rodríguez; Pedro Rodríguez, and Juan Ruiz Cárceres, son of Pedro Ruiz. He suspects, in this case, Ruiz was an abbreviation for Rodríguez and that they may have been cousins and brothers.
Juan Luján came with an Indian servant, Francisca Jiménez, and acknowledged three children. However, Chávez believes the girl, Maríana Luján, was really the illegitimate Maríana who arrived in the entourage of fellow Canary Islander Juan López de Medel. Her mother María was from Tecpeaca near Tenochtitlán. Maríana married Juan de Perramos, who escorted the 1616 supply train, and had a daughter María Ramos.
Juan’s son, Francisco, first married Lucía Rodríguez, perhaps some relation of Pedro Rodríguez and his Indian servant, Magdalena. Next he married María Ramos. Since he was associated with the murder of Luis de Rosas, critics of the Franciscans accused the friars of granting him an illegal dispensation to marry his “blood niece.” Most of his activities were around Santo Domingo and Cochití.
Chávez believes Francisco’s probable son, Domingo Luján, was the one who smuggled gunpowder to his half-brother at Cochití during the retreat to Guadalupe del Paso. His wife and children spent the exile years as captives in the pueblos.
There was also a Francisco Jiménez who was associated with the Griegos in 1663. Chávez suggests he was either the son or nephew of Francisca Jiménez. He and his family were killed at Pojoaque in 1680.
Juan’s other son, Juan Luján was the one who created whatever fortune the family enjoyed. He became alcalde mayor of Taos-Picurís and owned an estancia in the Taos valley. His wife more than likely was one of the unnamed daughters of Pedro Lucero de Godoy and Francisca Gómez Robledo, since Francisca’s brother owned part of the Taos encomienda. Their daughter, María, married Juan de Archuleta.
One of his sons was probably Matías Luján, who escaped the revolt. He had been born in the La Cañada area and married Francisca Romero. His son Miguel was married to Catalina Valdés whom he later murdered.
There was also a girl described as the child of Matías Luján and an Indian servant who married José López Naranjo. Although, Chávez notes, there was more than one Matías Luján at the time, the implicit behavior was similar to that of his cousin Domingo. Naranjo was the brother of Domingo Naranjo, the mulatto leader of the rebellion at Santa Clara.
Juan’s more respectable son, Juan Luján, was the Juan Luis who owned the land the Tanos accepted in place of La Cañada in 1696. Its size was commiserate with that controlled by his father.
For a while, he was distinguished from his father by the phrase El Viejo. By the time the pueblos rebelled in 1680, he may also have needed to separate himself from his siblings and cousins. At Guadalupe del Paso, he used the names Juan Luis, Juan Luis Luján, and Juan Ruiz Luján. Chávez is sure they’re the same because he was 66 years old in 1689 when he reported a wife, grown son and three small children.
One time he was called to identify himself in the refuge camp was when Silvestre Pacheco murdered his sister’s husband, José Baca, son of Cristóbal Baca.
His grandfather’s kinsman, Juan Ruiz Cárceres had married Isabel Baca. She was probably the daughter of Alonso Baca and sister or stepsister of José Baca’s father. Alonso was the son of Cristóbal Baca and Ana Ortiz. She was the daughter of Francisco Pacheco, and they were married in México before than came north in the same group of 1600 recruits. Nothing more is known about his personal life.
Politically he defied the governor in 1643 when he allied himself with the Franciscans at San Domingo pueblo. Alonso de Pacheco de Herédia executed his brother, Antonio Baca, who was the ringleader. After that he remained less active in the río abajo.
Ruiz Cárceres also supported the friars, but less dramatically. After he died, Irene became the Franciscan’s cook at Tajique. Their daughter, Juana Ruiz Cárceres married Antonio de Avalos.
His son, Juan Ruiz de Cárceres, was in the military escort for the supply train in 1652. His likely grandson, also Juan Ruiz de Cárceres, was with Domingo and Miguel Luján during the exile and reconquest, when he acted as an interpreter with the Tewa and Tano speakers. After the grandson helped Luis Pérez Granillo survey La Cañada, he acquired the land of Alonso del Río.
Alonso del Río had come with Oñate in 1598. In the intervening years, Diego del Río de Losa had been a secretary for the cabildo and involved with the murder of Luis de Rosas. The Alonso who had land in La Cañada was already at Guadalupe el Paso when the rebellion broke out, and stayed there after the reconquest.
As for Miguel Luján, Chávez can’t decide who he was, except the possible brother or brother-in-law of Juan Ruiz de Cárceres. During the reconquest, he was on guard duty at the chapel in Santa Fé when the Tano speakers resumed fighting. He and his sons, Agustín and Cristóbal, survived, but he was killed in a campaign against Cochití in 1694.
When Granillo surveyed his hacienda, he noted: “Its houses still exist. Only he and his family had lived there, because the lands for agriculture and irrigation were sufficient for only one family, with pastures for a few livestock of any kind he might have had.”
Notes:
Chávez, Angélico. Origins of New Mexico Families, revised 1992 edition.
Granillo, Luis. Report for 12 March 1695 describing the settlement of La Cañada, included in Blood on the Boulders: The Journals of Don Diego De Vargas, New Mexico, 1694-97, volume 2, 1998, edited by John L. Kessell, Rick Hendricks, and Meredith D. Dodge.
Angélico Chávez believes the nucleus was Juan Luján, son of Francisco Rodríguez; Pedro Rodríguez, and Juan Ruiz Cárceres, son of Pedro Ruiz. He suspects, in this case, Ruiz was an abbreviation for Rodríguez and that they may have been cousins and brothers.
Juan Luján came with an Indian servant, Francisca Jiménez, and acknowledged three children. However, Chávez believes the girl, Maríana Luján, was really the illegitimate Maríana who arrived in the entourage of fellow Canary Islander Juan López de Medel. Her mother María was from Tecpeaca near Tenochtitlán. Maríana married Juan de Perramos, who escorted the 1616 supply train, and had a daughter María Ramos.
Juan’s son, Francisco, first married Lucía Rodríguez, perhaps some relation of Pedro Rodríguez and his Indian servant, Magdalena. Next he married María Ramos. Since he was associated with the murder of Luis de Rosas, critics of the Franciscans accused the friars of granting him an illegal dispensation to marry his “blood niece.” Most of his activities were around Santo Domingo and Cochití.
Chávez believes Francisco’s probable son, Domingo Luján, was the one who smuggled gunpowder to his half-brother at Cochití during the retreat to Guadalupe del Paso. His wife and children spent the exile years as captives in the pueblos.
There was also a Francisco Jiménez who was associated with the Griegos in 1663. Chávez suggests he was either the son or nephew of Francisca Jiménez. He and his family were killed at Pojoaque in 1680.
Juan’s other son, Juan Luján was the one who created whatever fortune the family enjoyed. He became alcalde mayor of Taos-Picurís and owned an estancia in the Taos valley. His wife more than likely was one of the unnamed daughters of Pedro Lucero de Godoy and Francisca Gómez Robledo, since Francisca’s brother owned part of the Taos encomienda. Their daughter, María, married Juan de Archuleta.
One of his sons was probably Matías Luján, who escaped the revolt. He had been born in the La Cañada area and married Francisca Romero. His son Miguel was married to Catalina Valdés whom he later murdered.
There was also a girl described as the child of Matías Luján and an Indian servant who married José López Naranjo. Although, Chávez notes, there was more than one Matías Luján at the time, the implicit behavior was similar to that of his cousin Domingo. Naranjo was the brother of Domingo Naranjo, the mulatto leader of the rebellion at Santa Clara.
Juan’s more respectable son, Juan Luján, was the Juan Luis who owned the land the Tanos accepted in place of La Cañada in 1696. Its size was commiserate with that controlled by his father.
For a while, he was distinguished from his father by the phrase El Viejo. By the time the pueblos rebelled in 1680, he may also have needed to separate himself from his siblings and cousins. At Guadalupe del Paso, he used the names Juan Luis, Juan Luis Luján, and Juan Ruiz Luján. Chávez is sure they’re the same because he was 66 years old in 1689 when he reported a wife, grown son and three small children.
One time he was called to identify himself in the refuge camp was when Silvestre Pacheco murdered his sister’s husband, José Baca, son of Cristóbal Baca.
His grandfather’s kinsman, Juan Ruiz Cárceres had married Isabel Baca. She was probably the daughter of Alonso Baca and sister or stepsister of José Baca’s father. Alonso was the son of Cristóbal Baca and Ana Ortiz. She was the daughter of Francisco Pacheco, and they were married in México before than came north in the same group of 1600 recruits. Nothing more is known about his personal life.
Politically he defied the governor in 1643 when he allied himself with the Franciscans at San Domingo pueblo. Alonso de Pacheco de Herédia executed his brother, Antonio Baca, who was the ringleader. After that he remained less active in the río abajo.
Ruiz Cárceres also supported the friars, but less dramatically. After he died, Irene became the Franciscan’s cook at Tajique. Their daughter, Juana Ruiz Cárceres married Antonio de Avalos.
His son, Juan Ruiz de Cárceres, was in the military escort for the supply train in 1652. His likely grandson, also Juan Ruiz de Cárceres, was with Domingo and Miguel Luján during the exile and reconquest, when he acted as an interpreter with the Tewa and Tano speakers. After the grandson helped Luis Pérez Granillo survey La Cañada, he acquired the land of Alonso del Río.
Alonso del Río had come with Oñate in 1598. In the intervening years, Diego del Río de Losa had been a secretary for the cabildo and involved with the murder of Luis de Rosas. The Alonso who had land in La Cañada was already at Guadalupe el Paso when the rebellion broke out, and stayed there after the reconquest.
As for Miguel Luján, Chávez can’t decide who he was, except the possible brother or brother-in-law of Juan Ruiz de Cárceres. During the reconquest, he was on guard duty at the chapel in Santa Fé when the Tano speakers resumed fighting. He and his sons, Agustín and Cristóbal, survived, but he was killed in a campaign against Cochití in 1694.
When Granillo surveyed his hacienda, he noted: “Its houses still exist. Only he and his family had lived there, because the lands for agriculture and irrigation were sufficient for only one family, with pastures for a few livestock of any kind he might have had.”
Notes:
Chávez, Angélico. Origins of New Mexico Families, revised 1992 edition.
Granillo, Luis. Report for 12 March 1695 describing the settlement of La Cañada, included in Blood on the Boulders: The Journals of Don Diego De Vargas, New Mexico, 1694-97, volume 2, 1998, edited by John L. Kessell, Rick Hendricks, and Meredith D. Dodge.
Sunday, March 25, 2012
La Cañada - Kinship
If you ever spent much time in a small town, you know the ways sociologists measure prestige are irrelevant. You soon learn kinship networks are far more important indicators for who will be elected mayor or student council president than wealth or profession, and that the important ties may be buried several generations back.
By this measure, the most important man in La Cañada before the Pueblo Revolt wasn’t Luis Martín Serrano, but Juan Griego. The one was connected by marriage to four of the other fifteen landholders mentioned by Luis Pérez Granillo in his survey of area in 1695, while the other was tied to seven.
The men who would be ranked highly by sociologists, Melchor de Archuleta, Sebastían González and Ambrosio Sáez, each had three, while Francisco Gómez Robledo had only one kinship tie mentioned in these postings.
The ones who fell low in the kinship rankings were often men who were the first generation to bear a name, the half-acknowledged sons of better known families like Bartolomé Montoya, Marcos de Herrera and Agustín Romero, or the completely unacknowledged like Pedro de la Cruz.
Employees were non-existent in the social fabric, whether they held high positions like Francisco Xavier with one connection, or lowly ones like Nicolás de la Cruz and Alonso del Río with none.
The other men like Griego of relatively obscure birth and wide connections were Diego López, with three ties to the local community, and Miguel Luján, whose ties were through undocumented mestizos and sub rosa relatives in the pueblos. It happens both names represent clusters of men related by blood rather than individuals.
Angélico Chávez believes Luján is descended from the one of the contingent of men born in the Canary Islands that was commanded by Bernabé de Las Casas López in 1600, but didn’t speculate on why so many were available.
The Canaries had been visited by Portuguese explorers in 1340, but assigned to Castile by Pope Clement VI in 1344. Jean de Béthencourt began taking possession of them under the authority of Henry III of Castile in 1403. Alberto de Las Casas became their bishop.
After Béthencourt and Las Casas died, Béthencourt’s nephew, Maciot, sold the islands. They changed hands, before passing to Guillen de Las Casas Hurtado in 1430, and from him to Fernán Peraza through his wife Inés de Las Casas. After Portugal again showed interest, Spain began asserting direct control in 1477.
Soon after, the Portuguese introduced sugar cane, and large land holdings followed. Smaller settlers may have been forced to emigrate, like they would be when sugar was introduced on Barbados in the mid-1600's. Meantime, Santa Cruz de Palma became a major port, both for exporting sugar and as a layover station for ships bound for the Americas. French pirates sacked the city in 1535. Francis Drake attacked on behalf of England in 1585.
The effect of the Inquisition is hard to determine. Gustav Henningsen has estimated that while about 1,500 were tried in the tribunal at La Palma between 1540 and 1700, none were found guilty.
However, Alonso de Benavides claims he had been a lay familiar there before he moved to México in 1598 and joined the Franciscans in 1603 when he was about 25 years old. After he arrived in Santa Fé in 1627, he claimed to remember Francisco de Soto had been penanced and was now calling himself Juan Donayre de las Misas. The man, who said he’d been born in Cordoba to Francisco Rodríguez de las Misas and Catalina Donayre, was forced to call himself Juan Pecador, the sinner.
Guillen Las Casas Hurtado was the great-great-grandfather of Bernabé, who was born on Tenerife. Guillen’s brother Francisco was the father of Bartolomé de Las Casas, the bishop who first complained about the abuses of encomiendas in Hispañola in 1515.
Bernabé was with Juan de Oñate in 1598, and earned his respect during the ill-fated expedition to Ácoma. Oñate sent him to México City to help prepare the reinforcements who were to be commanded by Gaspar de Villagrá. However, the viceroy, still angry over Oñate’s contract, replaced Villagrá with Las Casas.
I have no idea if Las Casas was responsible for recruiting the large number of men in the expedition who were from the Canary Islands, and if so, if relics of feudal obligations nearly as important as kinship were involved.
Several of the men brought Indian servants. The assumption has always been that these were common law wives, rather than the retainers of well-to-do men. If so, their presence in Las Casa’s reinforcements suggest that they were men who could not or would not marry daughters of Spanish settlers or local mestizos. They also suggest men who might have had a stronger interest in migration than silver.
Among those who stayed, at least for a few years, were Juan López de Medel, who Chávez thinks became Mederos. He brought María, her daughter Mariana, her sister Catalina who was married to Francisco, and Augustina. Juan Luján brought Francisca Jiménez.
Juan Bautista Ruato came with a mulatto slave, Mateo. Chávez believes he was the same man as Juan Bautista Suazo. One possible descendant, Juan de Suazo, was married to Ana María Bernal, a likely descendant of Juan Griego’s son Francisco Bernal. They returned from exile and lived at Senecú. Another was María Suazo who married Diego López Sambrano, a man banned from the reconquest for his treatment of natives before the rebellion.
He was the only one from the island of Tenerife to last; the others were from La Palma.
One man who brought a servant who didn’t appear again in the record was Pedro Rodríguez. He came with Magdalena. Another was Cristobal de Brito who was responsible for Beatriz de los Ángeles and Juan Tarasco. However, his last name persisted after the reconquest among people of mixed race backgrounds.
Of the men who didn’t bring a servant, only one stayed in the area, Juan Ruiz Cárceres. Domingo Gutierrez left no record, beyond his last name. Both were from La Palma.
Luis Moreno and Francisco Suarez never appeared again in the public record in any way. They were from Tenerfire.
Notes: I only counted kinship ties I mentioned; there would be a great many more in Chávez’s book if you followed all the children through all their marriages and in-laws.
Chávez, Angélico. Origins of New Mexico Families, revised 1992 edition.
Granillo, Luis. Report for 12 March 1695 describing the settlement of La Cañada, included in Blood on the Boulders: The Journals of Don Diego De Vargas, New Mexico, 1694-97, volume 2, 1998, edited by John L. Kessell, Rick Hendricks, and Meredith D. Dodge.
Gray, Vikki and Angela Lewis. “Partial List of People Who Came to New Mexico in 1600,” GenWeb site; has more detail than Chávez on people who came and didn’t stay, including servants.
Henningsen, Gustav. “The Database of the Spanish Inquisition. The Relaciones De Causas Project Revisited” in Heinz Mohnhaupt and Dieter Simon, Vorträge zur Justizforschung, 1992, cited by Wikipedia.
By this measure, the most important man in La Cañada before the Pueblo Revolt wasn’t Luis Martín Serrano, but Juan Griego. The one was connected by marriage to four of the other fifteen landholders mentioned by Luis Pérez Granillo in his survey of area in 1695, while the other was tied to seven.
The men who would be ranked highly by sociologists, Melchor de Archuleta, Sebastían González and Ambrosio Sáez, each had three, while Francisco Gómez Robledo had only one kinship tie mentioned in these postings.
The ones who fell low in the kinship rankings were often men who were the first generation to bear a name, the half-acknowledged sons of better known families like Bartolomé Montoya, Marcos de Herrera and Agustín Romero, or the completely unacknowledged like Pedro de la Cruz.
Employees were non-existent in the social fabric, whether they held high positions like Francisco Xavier with one connection, or lowly ones like Nicolás de la Cruz and Alonso del Río with none.
The other men like Griego of relatively obscure birth and wide connections were Diego López, with three ties to the local community, and Miguel Luján, whose ties were through undocumented mestizos and sub rosa relatives in the pueblos. It happens both names represent clusters of men related by blood rather than individuals.
Angélico Chávez believes Luján is descended from the one of the contingent of men born in the Canary Islands that was commanded by Bernabé de Las Casas López in 1600, but didn’t speculate on why so many were available.
The Canaries had been visited by Portuguese explorers in 1340, but assigned to Castile by Pope Clement VI in 1344. Jean de Béthencourt began taking possession of them under the authority of Henry III of Castile in 1403. Alberto de Las Casas became their bishop.
After Béthencourt and Las Casas died, Béthencourt’s nephew, Maciot, sold the islands. They changed hands, before passing to Guillen de Las Casas Hurtado in 1430, and from him to Fernán Peraza through his wife Inés de Las Casas. After Portugal again showed interest, Spain began asserting direct control in 1477.
Soon after, the Portuguese introduced sugar cane, and large land holdings followed. Smaller settlers may have been forced to emigrate, like they would be when sugar was introduced on Barbados in the mid-1600's. Meantime, Santa Cruz de Palma became a major port, both for exporting sugar and as a layover station for ships bound for the Americas. French pirates sacked the city in 1535. Francis Drake attacked on behalf of England in 1585.
The effect of the Inquisition is hard to determine. Gustav Henningsen has estimated that while about 1,500 were tried in the tribunal at La Palma between 1540 and 1700, none were found guilty.
However, Alonso de Benavides claims he had been a lay familiar there before he moved to México in 1598 and joined the Franciscans in 1603 when he was about 25 years old. After he arrived in Santa Fé in 1627, he claimed to remember Francisco de Soto had been penanced and was now calling himself Juan Donayre de las Misas. The man, who said he’d been born in Cordoba to Francisco Rodríguez de las Misas and Catalina Donayre, was forced to call himself Juan Pecador, the sinner.
Guillen Las Casas Hurtado was the great-great-grandfather of Bernabé, who was born on Tenerife. Guillen’s brother Francisco was the father of Bartolomé de Las Casas, the bishop who first complained about the abuses of encomiendas in Hispañola in 1515.
Bernabé was with Juan de Oñate in 1598, and earned his respect during the ill-fated expedition to Ácoma. Oñate sent him to México City to help prepare the reinforcements who were to be commanded by Gaspar de Villagrá. However, the viceroy, still angry over Oñate’s contract, replaced Villagrá with Las Casas.
I have no idea if Las Casas was responsible for recruiting the large number of men in the expedition who were from the Canary Islands, and if so, if relics of feudal obligations nearly as important as kinship were involved.
Several of the men brought Indian servants. The assumption has always been that these were common law wives, rather than the retainers of well-to-do men. If so, their presence in Las Casa’s reinforcements suggest that they were men who could not or would not marry daughters of Spanish settlers or local mestizos. They also suggest men who might have had a stronger interest in migration than silver.
Among those who stayed, at least for a few years, were Juan López de Medel, who Chávez thinks became Mederos. He brought María, her daughter Mariana, her sister Catalina who was married to Francisco, and Augustina. Juan Luján brought Francisca Jiménez.
Juan Bautista Ruato came with a mulatto slave, Mateo. Chávez believes he was the same man as Juan Bautista Suazo. One possible descendant, Juan de Suazo, was married to Ana María Bernal, a likely descendant of Juan Griego’s son Francisco Bernal. They returned from exile and lived at Senecú. Another was María Suazo who married Diego López Sambrano, a man banned from the reconquest for his treatment of natives before the rebellion.
He was the only one from the island of Tenerife to last; the others were from La Palma.
One man who brought a servant who didn’t appear again in the record was Pedro Rodríguez. He came with Magdalena. Another was Cristobal de Brito who was responsible for Beatriz de los Ángeles and Juan Tarasco. However, his last name persisted after the reconquest among people of mixed race backgrounds.
Of the men who didn’t bring a servant, only one stayed in the area, Juan Ruiz Cárceres. Domingo Gutierrez left no record, beyond his last name. Both were from La Palma.
Luis Moreno and Francisco Suarez never appeared again in the public record in any way. They were from Tenerfire.
Notes: I only counted kinship ties I mentioned; there would be a great many more in Chávez’s book if you followed all the children through all their marriages and in-laws.
Chávez, Angélico. Origins of New Mexico Families, revised 1992 edition.
Granillo, Luis. Report for 12 March 1695 describing the settlement of La Cañada, included in Blood on the Boulders: The Journals of Don Diego De Vargas, New Mexico, 1694-97, volume 2, 1998, edited by John L. Kessell, Rick Hendricks, and Meredith D. Dodge.
Gray, Vikki and Angela Lewis. “Partial List of People Who Came to New Mexico in 1600,” GenWeb site; has more detail than Chávez on people who came and didn’t stay, including servants.
Henningsen, Gustav. “The Database of the Spanish Inquisition. The Relaciones De Causas Project Revisited” in Heinz Mohnhaupt and Dieter Simon, Vorträge zur Justizforschung, 1992, cited by Wikipedia.
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