Primary Sources and Anecdotes on Kingston's Mythical Past

Much has been written about Kingston, New Mexico. Since the 1970s, and perhaps earlier, stories in the popular press are usually ornamented with statements about the tiny berg being the largest town in New Mexico; having three newspapers; two dozen saloons; Twain and President Cleveland visiting.

For several years we've gathered historical information around Hillsboro, Lake Valley and Kingston, and it's oddly the latter where myths arose and persist. Most recently, New Mexico Magazine repeated these myths in a feature story.

Below is a collection of annotated primary sources that are listed in chronological order. Key dates to keep in mind: the east slope of the Black Range was prospected in the late 1870s; Kingston as a town came to life in late 1882. As a place name, it does not exist before August 1882.  In 1893, the federal government changed its monetary policy and over night, the price of silver slumped, and the silver miners moved on.

We consider the information as either a "primary source," that is, information provided by a direct observation, or anecdotal, or a story passed along without direct observation (Ex: N.W. Chase's 1888 "Cornerstone" letter).

1882
Kingston is but two months old in this Las Vegas Daily Gazette story.

In October, the Lincoln County Leader reported 350 to 500 people in Kingston.

The Albuquerque Morning Journal reports 50 house built in a day; reporter speculates arrivals could go to 100 persons per day.

The Albuquerque Morning Journal reports only 45 men working in the mines in November.

An estimated 1,200 people are in Kingston in this Albuquerque Morning Journal story.

The Rio Grande Republican reports in November, an estimated 5,000 folks in Kingston.

A correspondent for the Engineering and Mining Journal documented his November 22 visit.

This December story notes 150 families in Kingston.

Kingston closes out the year with a party.

1883
This prospectus on Kingston was published in early 1883 by Kingston Tribune editor, Charles Greene. By the end of 1883, he had moved his newspaper to Deming.

The Black Range expected solid growth of Kingston and nearby Percha City.

1884
This McKinney business gazetteer covers Hillsboro and Lake Valley businesses, but Kingston is curiously absent. It's awkward to use, but go to page 1456.

1885
At the often reported height of Kingston's activities and population, this 1885 business journal reveals only 300 people in Kingston, jibing with the 1885 Territorial census that counted 329 people in Kingston and outlying Danville camp. This journal provides an invaluable look at town business, listing names and occupations. Go to page 322, but look elsewhere therein for more details on our area.

1887
Where was President Cleveland when a prankster signed his name on the Victorio Hotel register?

Kingston town plat survey conducted by the General Land Office.

George Rowell's newspaper directory shows the Shaft serving a Kingston population of 725.

1888
The Gospel in All Lands documents 1,000 people in Kingston, a narrative from Rev. N.W. Chase.

Rev. N.W. Chase penned a letter in 1888 for the cornerstone of the Kingston church, and cites that Kingston had 3,000 people a few years earlier. The original letter (no scan available) is in the Methodist archives in Albuquerque, and a copy is kept at the Black Range Museum.

1890
The U.S. Census Bureau documents 633 people living in Kingston and 816 in the mining district; 37 Chinese people lived in Sierra County (less than 400 over the entire territory).

1891
The Territorial Bureau of Immigration documents a population of 5,132 in Sierra County.

The American Newspaper Directory reveals that the Shaft served a Kingston population of 1,500.

1893
The country falls into an economic depression; silver prices slump and Kingston miners leave.

1894
The Territorial Bureau of Immigration documents a population of 1,000 in Kingston.

1895
Kingston fails to show up on maps and atlases until the early 1890s. It's on this Rand McNally published 1895.

1904
This February 26, 1904 article from the Silver City Enterprise was misquoted in a story in the Hillsboro Historical Society's newsletter, December 2014.  The 1904 article states that Kingston had a population of 5,000 in the 1880s.  The newsletter article characterized this Enterprise story as there being that many living in Kingston in 1904.

1907
History of New Mexico by George Anderson has Kingston at 1,800 people in 1882.

1913
The El Paso Herald reported that Kingston had a population of 2,000 in the early 1880s.

1919
Hearst's magazine reports that Kingston swelled to 6,000 people in the early 1880s.

1935
New Mexico magazine states that Kingston had 1,500 residents (see Facebook cite below).

1936
Black Range Tales says that 7,000 people lived in Kingston.

Silver City Enterprise 2/26/04 (part 1)

Silver City Enterprise 2/26/04 (part 2)

You can find more documentation, census records and newspaper directories, on the Hillsboro Historical Society's Facebook site in the "Photos" section.

You can read about the newspaper that tried to make a go of it in Kingston, in this previous post.

You should read beyond this arcana on the origins of Kingston's mythic population, and check out what some of the territory's newspapers were saying about the area for yourself.  You won't be disappointed. You'll read about the comings and going of folks, the values of the mines, the business successes and failures and an occasional killing. You can read about the newspaper that set up shop under a tree, a photo of which was in the most recent HHS newsletter. That press wasn't Kingston's first. You'll read what the observers saw and thought at the time--and how lucky we are to have that available to us.

Kingston, 1890, Starr Peak is visible to the east. Black Range Museum.

In the News: June 28, 1906

Bisbee Daily Review

Kingston Plat 1887

The General Land Office surveyed the Kingston townsite in 1887. The town was five years old. The resulting map illustrates where commerce was centered--and no surprises, on Main Street.


The plat shows the position of mining claims that coincide with the townsite, that is, the mining interests beneath the town. The smelter site was on the north edge of town.

Kingston, 1887.

The map has another value in showing us today the siting of two businesses, the Printing Office and Photo Gallery, located next door to one another on the west end of town on the north side of Main. Look for lines surveyor's lines and notation that run northwesterly. The gallery was most likely owned by the prodigious photographer J.C. Burge. A good many of his images are archived at the New Mexico History Museum and viewable online.

A couple of curiosities come to the fore looking at the town plat, and the another map of the entire 36-square-mile township map. One, the townsite is rather small; it's only 240 acres. Something else of note, the buildings are few.

T

The township map dated 1889, shows more of the mining claims beyond Kingston. Moreover, it shows outlying ranches, mail and stage roads, and the slaughter house east of Kingston probably where Toppy Johnson infamously "laundered" stolen beef. This map also shows the reservoir site west of Kingston.

If you would like to see the maps in their entirety, click on these links.
Kingston's 240-acre townsite plat map, 1887.
Kingston township map, 1889.
--Craig Springer

Kingston through the Eyes of a Reporter - 1882

Kingston sprung from the wilderness with the finding of silver float. The townsite was platted in the latter part of 1882. The mining activity drew much attention from prospectors, capitalists -- and reporters.

Lincoln County Leader,
October 28, 1882. Library of Congress

One such journalist writing for the Lone Star offers us a very early glimpse into the economy and life style of the nascent mining camp called Kingston. The writer remarked on title issues associated with the town's lots. Witness this curious remark:  "One woman has taken a lot and built on it and refuses to pay for it. She is not being molested."

The story was reprinted in the October 28, 1882 Lincoln County Leader, published in White Oaks, New Mexico. -- Craig Springer

Nicholas Galles and the 1885 “Geronimo Campaign”

Mark B. Thompson, III

Almost ten years before his death, the Santa Fe New Mexican ran a front page article about Nicholas Galles on June 21, 1902, with the banner “Men of the Hour in New Mexico.”  The article contained a long paragraph detailing his “five years” as a captain in the New Mexico Territorial Militia, the predecessor of the New Mexico National Guard, during the “Indian Troubles.” Surprisingly, the article did not mention his work in the 1885 campaign, probably the best documented of any of the Galles military experiences. Perhaps not surprisingly, this neglect of the 1885 events, not to mention the several other “errors and omissions,” were carried over into numerous obituaries after his death on December 5, 1911. Had Galles decided that “1885” was “no big deal?”  

N. Galles obit, 1911

On June 5, 1885, Galles wrote a letter* to New Mexico Territorial Governor, Edmund G. Ross, a former U.S. Senator from Kansas, later included in John F. Kennedy’s Profiles in Courage for his part in the trial of Andrew Johnson for impeachment. This letter, accompanied by a petition signed by 36 willing volunteers, sought creation of a militia cavalry company for the Hillsboro area.  They did not get a cavalry appointment, but on June 10, 1885, Galles took the oath of office as a captain of Company G of the 1^st Infantry.  (I wonder if they nevertheless rode horses?) The muster roll for Company G shows that 40 men in addition to Galles were enrolled, including the once and future Chief Justice of the New Mexico Supreme Court, Frank W. Parker, as well as the soon to be convicted felon, Julian L. (“Junee”?) Fuller. The four documents referred to can be found in the New Mexico Territorial Archives, together with a report from Galles which accompanied the eventual request for payment.  

What prompted the June letter and what was the role of Company G in the 1885 campaign? Fortunately the original of the report was later read and “relied upon” in Washington, but the microfilm version is almost illegible. I believe we must turn to the historians, something we needed to do any way, to get the basic “facts.”  The writers on the Chiricahua Apache “wars” are legion, and I have relied primarily on one recent publication: Edwin R. Sweeney, From Cochise to Geronimo: The Chiricahua Apaches, 1874-1886 (Norman: U. of Okla. Press, 2010).  Sweeney does cite his sources in detail and each paragraph of his 580-page book is so crammed with facts that you almost have to outline each paragraph in order to have some confidence that you know what you just read. If not the last word on the subject, it certainly seemed like a good place to start.

Sweeney tells the 1885 story partly through the eyes of General George Crook of the U.S. Army. Sweeney, (p. 430), describes how on May 28, 1885, Crook left Prescott, Arizona to establish his field headquarters at Ft. Bayard, southeast of Silver City and west of Hillsboro, not knowing that Geronimo (and Chief Mangas) had left New Mexico for Mexico. Although the Galles letter to Gov. Ross is vague and general about the looming threat, it seems reasonable to assume that the prospective volunteers in Hillsboro were probably aware of Crook’s concerns and that Hillsboro might need to be defended. In fact, as described in detail by Sweeney, the focus of the story shifts to Mexico during the summer of 1885, but about September 5, 1885, it was determined that Geronimo was headed back into New Mexico (Sweeney p. 460).

At that point it was assumed that the Chiricahuas were probably headed to Ojo Caliente, north of Hillsboro, and the home of the Chihenne band before they were removed to the San Carlos Reservation in Arizona. The first sighting was apparently in the Cooke’s range, the southern part of the Mimbres Mountains, about September 9, 1885. At that point neither U.S. troops nor militia were following Geronimo (Sweeney p. 462).  On September 11, 1885, Geronimo’s men showed they were in fact traveling north when they attacked in several places, killing Brady Pollock near today's Pollock Canyon west of Lake Valley, then heading down Gavilan Canyon into the Mimbres drainage killing Martin McKinn and kidnapping his brother Santiago "Jimmy" McKinn. Geronimo then attacked further north in Gallinas Canyon, southeast of San Lorenzo.  (Today you can roughly follow this path, and the Mimbres River, by traveling north on State Highway 61.)  Finally, at least by September 12, 1885, the U.S. Cavalry from Ft. Bayard, militia from Hillsboro, and a small party of ranchers were in pursuit (Sweeney p. 464). Sweeney does not identify anyone in the militia from Hillsboro.

Sweeney says that Geronimo and his men spent the night of September 12, 1885, “near the confluence of Sapillo Creek and the Mimbres” (p. 464).  Given the route Geronimo was taking toward the northwest, Sweeney could have meant either the confluence of Sapillo Creek and the Gila, or another creek on the Mimbres. Sapillo Creek is on the Pacific side of the Continental Divide and drains to the Gila. In any event, Geronimo now realized that he needed to put some distance between himself  and the pursuers and by the evening of September 13, 1885, he had arrived at the Black Canyon, about eight miles southeast of the Gila Hot Springs. On Monday, September 14, 1885, the Apaches had reached the junction of Little Creek and the West Fork of the Gila.  According to Sweeney, the army and militia at that point gave up the chase (p. 464).

Geronimo and his men made it to Arizona by September 19, 1885, but by September 27 they were back in New Mexico, killing a merchant, A.L. Sabourne, at Cactus Flat, about five miles northwest of Buckhorn. (Today U.S. 180 runs through Buckhorn.) Apparently they camped in that area for about a week and Sweeney relates that “Geronimo’s party left for Mexico about October 6, 1885” (p. 471).  As we shall see, the period between the September 27 and October 6 is important for the Galles story, but Sweeney does not give any indication that Geronimo had moved east toward Hillsboro from Buckhorn during this period.   

Perhaps because Congress passed another pension provision for veterans (and widows) of the “Indian Wars” on March 4, 1917, the widow of Nicholas Galles, Harriett Stocker Galles, filed an application for a widow’s pension on January 12, 1918.  The application said that Galles had served in the territorial militia “in 1885 and perhaps 1886.”  This application was rejected on March 5, 1919, on the grounds that the “muster rolls in the State Archives fails to show the period of service.”  The records in Santa Fe were eventually found and apparently a request for “reconsideration” was filed with the federal authorities. A preliminary decision was made on August 29, 1923, indicating that the service was “pensionable if period of 30 days is shown.”  By November 13, 1923, it was determined that the period of service was only eight days, from September 30, 1885, through October 7, 1885, and a final decision rejecting the application was issued on  August 26, 1924. Harriett Galles filed yet another application in June of 1927, but it does not recite any additional facts.

Harriet Stocker Galles

The dates of September 30 through October 7 are consistent with a return of  Geronimo to New Mexico on September 27 and his leaving for Mexico on October 6. It would make sense that the militia was “activated” on the September 30 because of the possibility of Geronimo moving toward Hillsboro, but, as we know (or believe), he stayed to the southwest of Hillsboro and then soon moved on to Mexico. What about the period of September 12, 1885 and September 14, 1885, when the militia had joined in pursuit of Geronimo up the Mimbres, etc?  Was the militia, referred to by Sweeney, in fact Company G headed by Galles? As a matter of law, adding three or four days to the eight used for the pension application would have made no difference on the pension decision—it was still short of the required 30 days of service.

Even if the record had shown two-plus weeks of “active duty” during the 1885 campaign, Galles may have concluded that it was nothing to “brag about.” Sitting around and a few days chase on horseback obviously resulted in no encounter with Geronimo. Given the inclination of politicians to trumpet their “Indian Fighter” status, the absence of any mention of 1885 in the 1902 Santa Fe New Mexican article should give us pause.  I have not confirmed that Galles served five full years as a captain in the militia during the period 1877-1882, as alleged in the 1902 article. There is, however, evidence of his participation in encounters with the Chiricahuas in 1879 and 1881, both of which, with mistakes, etc., are recited in the 1902 article and the subsequent obituaries. Geronimo was, and still is, the big name in this genre, but Galles may have decided it was better not to embellish his limited involvement in the 1885 encounters.

*You can read the referenced 1885 letter to Ross is the book, Around Hillsboro.

Kingston covered in 1926 American Mercury magazine

The American Mercury edited by H.L. Mencken, September 1926 carried a story about Kingston by Duncan Aikman.  It's a wonderful look into a town that once thronged with as many as 1,500 people--miners and attending businesspeople--that had dwindled to a mere 300 people when Aikman visited.

Aikman leads with a description of a mansion and grizzled miner hanging on to hope of what might still come -- a good grubstake. No names are given, but the descriptions are vivid.

Aikman was a prodigious writer in the day. He wrote a biography of Calamity Jane and many magazine articles on culture and on politics in Latin America. The latter piqued the interest of the FDR administration; Aikman was apparently subjected to wiretaps.

You can read his Kingston story, "He Sentimentalists' by clicking here.

First Sierra County Assessor makes New York Times

If you own property in Sierra County, you recently received your Notice of Value stating what the county assessor reasons that your property is worth. From that, the county determines what you own in property tax.

Oliver Wendell Holmes said taxes are what we pay for a civilized society.  One of the men responsible for shaping a civilized society from the wilderness at the head of Percha Creek in the early 1880s was James Porter Parker, a Confederate veteran of the Civil War.

The portly Parker, who lies at rest in the Kingston cemetery was covered in a finely wrought New York Times column recently.  The Ronald Coddington story is part of the Disunion series covering the 150th anniversary of the war between the states. For our readers this is a story twice told -- Matti Nunn Harrison told it here a year ago. Parker, a civil engineer, surveyed the Kingston townsite in the autumn of 1882, and was elected as the first Sierra County Assessor in the spring of 1884.

It's great to see the NY Times write about Kingston and Hillsboro and use a historic photo, probably taken by George T. Miller. The original photo exists in the George T. Miller collection in the Black Range Museum. The photo of Parker is crisp and clear, as you would expect from a professional photographer.  The buffalo gourd flower in Parker's vest pocket looks freshly picked. Miller apparently took several photos of Parker that same day.

You can read the New York Times story, by clicking here.

You can see other Parker images and read what Matti Nunn Harrison published last year by clicking here.

Matti Nunn Harrison and twin sister Patti Nunn co-authored a local history that features Parker and others notable men and women in the book Around Hillsboro.  Book royalties go to the Hillsboro Historical Society.  --Craig Springer

NOTE: Comments are open to all, below.

James Porter Parker lies in an unmarked grave, perhaps this one, in the Kingston cemetery. Few prettier places can be found for earthly remains to spend eternity. Photo Patti Nunn.

Kingston in Myth and Memory

By Craig Springer

To see the old photos, you can tell that Kingston was a busy place for a time. But that time didn’t last.

Set on the east flank of the Black Range in western Sierra County, Kingston is today a relic of the distant past. On some maps, it’s a ghost town. But everyone living there is alive--engaged in business, creating art, active in retirement. It’s an old mining town at the head of the Middle Percha Creek. From a distance, the Black Range looks the part of a long purple armada. The 10,000-foot Hillsboro Peak stands like a silent sentinel above. Vision through the gray distant haze over steep folded mountainsides becomes clearer as you get closer. And so it is with the myth of Kingston being New Mexico’s largest territorial town.

Kingston had its start with the discovery of silver. In the early 1880s, prospectors from nearby Hillsboro, Lake Valley, and Georgetown worked under the continual threat of Apache depredations as they scratched dirt for signs of precious metal. Like most of the Black Range, the surface is more rock than soil. It’s the rock that drew attention; it was rich with silver ore. In October 1882, James Porter Parker, a civil engineer and former Confederate Lt. Colonel and General George Custer’s roommate at West Point platted a townsite. The portly fellow became Sierra County’s first Assessor two years later.

Kingston topped out at about 1,500 residents ca. 1893. Starr Peak and the Caballo Mountain are seen in the distance. The stone church stands in the right margin of the photo. Photo Black Range Museum

Kingston was to get bigger. A Methodist minister in January 1888 reported on the progress of a stone church to serve Kingston’s 1,000 residents. There was work to do: “If I could take the reader along the main street on our way to a school-house for evening service, he would see the typical mining town in all its wickedness.” The minister lamented the gambling, smoking, drinking and a woman singing in soprano at the back of a hall. 

The town grew bigger yet -- but only in myth. In travel guides, state tourism office promotions, and academic writings by professional historians, you will see a phrase repeated so often that a myth has turned to “memory,” that Kingston once exceeded 7,000 residents and was the largest town in New Mexico. It’s even on Forest Service signs. Seven thousand is about as big as Truth or Consequences is today. And it’s a bogus number, usually attended by an equally bogus count of the number of newspapers that kept shop in town: three.


One is led to think that three publications competed for readers and advertisers. Actually, 10 newspapers published in Kingston from 1883-1893, but all were very short-lived titles except the Weekly Shaft. From April 1885 to March 1886 during Kingston's supposed prime the town lacked a newspaper. The Mines of Kingston, a March 1883 prospectus on the then five-month-old town of Kingston, was published by the weekly Tribune. Editor and publisher Charles W. Greene would pull up stakes and move the newspaper to Deming by Kingston's first birthday.

The 1890 census counted 1,449 people in Kingston; 3,785 lived in Albuquerque--more than all of Sierra County’s 1890 population. A Territorial Bureau of Immigration publication printed in 1894 reported on the condition and prospects of the territory stating that, “The town itself is well situated, has a public water service, churches and schools, two good hotels, and a pushing, go-ahead population of about 1,000 persons.”

Those prospects may had already changed by the time the Bureau publication hit the streets. The economic Panic of 1893 and with silver prices going south, Kingston was all but abandoned. 

How such a myth got started is a bit of a mystery. The earliest writing on an inflated town size, a purported 5,000 people, that I found was in Log of a Timber Cruiser, published 22 years after Kingston was abandoned. 


Then, in August 1936, WPA writer Clay Vaden interviewed Sadie Orchard in Hillsboro. Orchard told Vaden that Kingston thronged with 5,000 residents in 1886. You can read what Vaden documented from Orchard in the Library of Congress holdings.


That same year Sierra County pioneer, James McKenna published Black Range Tales and upped the Kingston population by 2,000. And so it’s become gospel since, that Kingston was New Mexico’s largest town. 


The entire population of Sierra County didn’t reach 7,000 until 1950, according to the U.S. Census Bureau.


Craig Springer and his wife Felicia own the historic George T. and Ninette Stocker Miller home in Hillsboro. He's a professional writer in Santa Fe County.

Judge Frank Wilson Parker: Frontier Lawyer, Political Warrior

By Mark Thompson

In May of 1885, thirty-six residents of the Hillsboro area in Sierra County petitioned the territorial governor and the adjutant general seeking the creation of a volunteer militia to fight an insurgency in their backyard, the threat of the Apaches led by Geronimo. The petition resulted in the establishment of Company G captained by one of the petitioners, Nicholas Galles. Among the petitioners receiving a noncommissioned officer position was a twenty-four year old lawyer from Michigan, F. W. Parker. Company G saw limited service, September 30 through October 7, 1885, and, unlike politicians who regularly touted their experience as "Indian fighter," Parker apparently downplayed the importance of the campaign. Frank Wilson Parker, however, went on to make his mark in New Mexico legal history, proving to be a courageous participant in the political wars.

F. W. Parker was born October 16, 1860, on a farm in Sturgis Township, St. Joseph County, located near Kalamazoo, Michigan and also bordering the State of Indiana on the south.  His grandfather, John Parker, and grandmother, Elizabeth (Leiser) Parker, were born in Pennsylvania but had moved to Michigan from New York shortly after the birth in 1829 of Frank’s father, James Wilson Parker. Frank’s mother was Maria Antoinette Thompson of Sturgis, Michigan who at age 15 was living in the John Parker household, indicating, perhaps, the early death of her parents. 

The biographical sketches, including remarks printed in the New Mexico Law Reports, indicate that Parker attended school in the town of Sturgis and at age eighteen entered the University of Michigan. One biographical sketch indicates that he took “a limited course in the ‘Academic Department,’” and another has him graduating from the “Ann Harbor” Law School. Although Parker is not mentioned in a compilation of graduates and ex-students of the University of Michigan Law School serving in the judiciary in the United States, the official school website includes Parker in the class of 1880.

The University of Michigan Law School, probably the premier public law school in the United States, was established in 1859, at a time when it was rare for lawyers to have any academic training in the law. In 1878, the only two requirements for admission to the Law Department were proof that the applicant had reached age eighteen and was of good moral character. Graduation with an LL.B. required only completion of the full two-year course and passing an “approved” examination, including a dissertation. I did not find the exact date for Parker’s completion of studies, or for his admission to the Michigan Bar, but in the federal census for July 1880, he is shown with the occupation “lawyer.”    

Possibly at the suggestion of a friend, in October of 1881, Parker moved from Michigan to Socorro, New Mexico. The next month, now 21 years of age, he was admitted to the Bar by the Second District Territorial Judge, Samuel C. Parks. With two years of academic study of the law and a year of practice in Michigan, Parker should have had no trouble gaining admission to the practice of law under the standard prevailing at the time. One fanciful biographical sketch says he was examined by a committee of the bar, but even if Judge Parks had some help in the process, Parker only needed to convince the judge that he knew enough law to be granted his license. In 1881, admission by one of the territorial judges was sufficient for all purposes. New Mexico did not limit the power of the individual judge and had no uniform standards for admission until 1909.

Sierra County Courthouse as seen from atop the George T. Miller home. Frank Parker practiced law here, and presided over the trial of Oliver Lee and Jim Gililland for the murder of 8-year-old Henry Fountain. Photo George T. Miller Collection Black Range Museum

Shortly after admission to the bar, Parker moved his practice to La Mesilla, and, with an intermediate stop in the emerging town of Kingston in 1882, by 1883 he had taken up residence in Hillsboro, where he practiced law for the next fourteen years. In addition to his brief stint in the territorial militia, he participated in Republican Party politics and he served a two-year term as Sierra County school superintendent, an elected position. By 1897, U.S. Presidents, in the absence of overriding political needs, were willing to appoint "local" lawyers to the territorial bench, and President McKinley picked Parker to succeed Judge Gideon Bantz on the Territorial Supreme Court and as judge for the Third District, with headquarters in Las Cruces.   

Territorial judges appointed by the President served as trial judges in their individual districts and as appellate judges sitting as the territorial supreme court. Although they were “federal judges” in that they were appointed by the President and confirmed by the Senate, they did not have lifetime tenure, i.e. they were not “Article Three Judges” under the U.S. Constitution. With a four-year appointment prescribed by the act creating the territory, they were characterized as “legislative” judges. Obviously politics played a large part in their appointment and reappointment, and some historians claim that they served at the “will of the President.” I have argued elsewhere that the Congress intended that judges have more independence than territorial executive branch officers appointed by the President, and consequently could not be removed on a whim except during the existence of a separate federal law, the so-called “Tenure of Office Act.”

Even if they had some tenuous hold on their seat, the judges were products of the political system and "political" lawsuits, including criminal prosecutions, were probably more common than we would like to think. To have the confidence of the parties and lawyers and to be considered honest and fair was no small task for a trial judge.  Perhaps overlooked, at least by those of us far removed from the fray, was the need for the personal courage required to administer justice under the circumstances. Just two months after assuming the bench on January 10, 1898, Frank Parker would be tested by involvement in what certainly would be considered one of the most "political" criminal cases in New Mexico history.  

On February 1, 1896, the prominent lawyer and former Speaker of the House of Representatives, Albert J. Fountain, disappeared with his young son Henry somewhere between Lincoln and their home in La Mesilla and were presumed dead. Finally, in a long anticipated move, Sheriff Pat Garrett of Dona Ana County, on April 3, 1898, asked Judge Parker to issue arrest warrants for Oliver Lee, Jim Gililland and William McNew. Although the judge granted the application, it would be another thirteen months before he could get the case to trial. I have no intention of “retrying” the murder case, which would be something like “carrying History to Hillsboro,” but it would be interesting to see the case from the viewpoint of a new judge, something we are unfortunately prevented from doing in the absence of a memoir by a long retired judge.

Lawyer, and later Justice Frank W. Parker, walked through this east arch of the Sierra County Courthouse, this image taken in 2010. Photo Craig Springer

First, there is an apocryphal story that every new judge is warned that in a criminal case he should never sustain the prosecution objection to evidence tendered by the defense and, to the extent possible, always sustain the objections of the defense. The reason is simple—the judge does not want to give the defense grounds for overturning a conviction on appeal. Without even knowing Parker’s motivation, it is possible to answer the criticism that he acquiesced in all of the “demands” of the defense by just applying the apocryphal rule.

Secondly, the politics of the case was extreme. Even after Parker issued the warrants in April 1898, the political maneuvering continued apace, including the formation of Otero County to deprive Dona Ana County Sheriff Pat Garrett of jurisdiction. After the new county was created effective January 30, 1899, Oliver Lee surrendered in March 1899 to George Curry, a future governor and the newly appointed sheriff for Otero County. Parker was able to set the case for trial in May, after first granting a defense motion for a change of venue from Otero County to Hillsboro in Sierra County.

The fight on several levels, including in the legislature, was between Albert B. Fall of Las Cruces and Thomas B. Catron of Santa Fe, the men who would eventually be selected as the first U.S. Senators for the State of New Mexico. Fall represented Lee and Gililland, Catron was a special prosecutor aiding the district attorney, Richmond P. Barnes. It seems likely that Judge Parker knew most of what was “at stake” politically, but did he himself orchestrate the result?  Fall even accused him in closing arguments of being a part of the conspiracy to convict Oliver Lee, probably pure political theatre rather than a serious claim by the defense. At least the residents of Hillsboro and the spectators at the trial made it clear where they stood—upon the announcement of “not guilty,” “[t]he people cheered.”

Having been twice reappointed to the territorial bench, Parker in 1909 then presided over what many view as the sequel to the Lee/Gililland trial, the prosecution in Las Cruces of Wayne Brazel for the murder of Pat Garrett. Garrett had been killed in March of 1908 and Brazel had immediately "confessed" with a claim of self-defense to Dona Ana County Sheriff, Felipe Lucero. The case came on for trial on April 19, 1909, and was over with a “not guilty” verdict in one day. No cheering by the spectators this time, but several citizens found it necessary, in a letter to the Rio Grande Republican, to defend the result and Judge Parker, perhaps against a charge of local bias favoring the defendant: “The presiding judge of this court, while a resident of New Mexico, is an appointee of the president of the United States, is a federal judge and has held such position for several years.” Albert B. Fall had again served as defense counsel, with former district attorney Herbert B. Holt taking the defense lead at trial. The later public relations campaign, although including Governor Curry and several prominent citizens, appears to be clearly instigated by Fall.    

By defending Judge Parker, Fall may have sought to avoid the issue historians have considered more important, the quality of the prosecution. Unlike in the Lee/Gilliland case, the prosecution this time had no big name lawyers, although Attorney General James Hervey may have suggested that the A.G.’s office handle the case. Instead, the prosecution was conducted by twenty-seven year old Mark B. Thompson, admitted to the bar in January 1906 and appointed district attorney by Governor Hagerman in March of 1907.  But to claim youth and inexperience as an excuse for a prosecution conducted, according to some historians, with “appalling indifference and incompetence,” would be disingenuous. Governor Curry in his letter to A.B. Fall suggested that the Attorney General had said the evidence did not warrant conviction but that “the district attorney thought it best to let the case go before a jury . . . .” Not exactly a ringing endorsement, but probably the best the prosecutor was going to get. Thompson would eventually become Fall's personal attorney and work for Fall in the Teapot Dome Scandal.

The Las Cruces years were good to Judge Parker, including a second marriage, this time to Anna Davis of Iowa in 1904. The union  produced one child, Frank W. Jr., born in 1907. In 1910, he was a successful candidate for delegate from Dona Ana County to the Constitutional Convention, joining fellow Judge Clarence J. Roberts of Colfax County as one of the powerhouse lawyers at the convention. Parker, as chairman of the Judiciary Department Committee, is generally credited with achieving the agenda of the conservative, “railroad lawyers” in making sure that the first New Mexico Constitution had an elected judiciary. Parker then obtained the Republican nomination for one of the three Supreme Court positions and was elected to the initial court at the special election in 1911. Following the final act granting statehood, the signature of President Taft on January 6, 1912, Frank W. Parker began a twenty-year career on the New Mexico Supreme Court.

An appellate judge may be one step removed from the political cases, but Justice Parker could not avoid involvement in the fascinating political controversy between a district judge and an Albuquerque newspaper editor. Carl C. Magee as editor of the decidedly Republican Albuquerque Journal decided to take on the party establishment and in 1921 lost his control of the Journal but was able to continue his attacks as editor of the New Mexico State Tribune. Much of his ire was directed at the judiciary, especially Judge David Leahy of Las Vegas, but Judge Leahy saw an opening for revenge when Magee made a comparatively mild criticism of Chief Justice Frank Parker, suggesting that Parker had failed to see anything wrong in the way the clerk of the Supreme Court was handling court money. Judge Leahy charged Magee with criminal libel and of course obtained a guilty verdict from a Las Vegas jury.  That was followed by an attempt to disbar Magee’s attorney, former Supreme Court Justice Richard Hanna. Both of these cases resulted in Supreme Court action, first, affirming Governor Hinkle’s pardon of Magee and, second, resulting in a slap on the wrist for Hanna.    

Judge Leahy could not let go and in 1924 he convicted Magee of direct criminal contempt of court, i.e. contempt of Leahy himself. Magee was again pardoned by the governor, but the sheriff refused to release Magee resulting in a habeas corpus “original proceeding” in the Supreme Court. Having recused himself from sitting on the first two cases, Parker wrote the opinion in the habeas corpus action, holding that the governor’s constitutional pardon power extended to those guilty of direct criminal contempt. “Judges are human,” wrote Parker, and the governor’s pardon is “a reasonable check upon the exercise of a one-man power…which often must be exercised under the stress and sting of personal insult, sometimes depriving the judge of the ability to act wisely and judicially in such matters.”  

In what could be unprecedented, on January 11, 1928, the New Mexico Supreme Court paused to eulogize its still sitting Chief Justice on the thirtieth anniversary of his first appointment. Lawyer and State Senator, Herbert B. Holt, a long time friend, and once a court reporter for Parker, was recognized and no doubt "pleased the court" by his remarks. Judge Parker had many more years to contribute to New Mexico law and, upon his death, the court devoted even more space in the New Mexico Reports to honor him and his work on the court. Frank W. Parker died in Santa Fe on August 3, 1932, and was buried in the Fairview Cemetery on Cerrillos Road. Justice Parker was memorialized in the halls of the Supreme Court.

The Bureau of Public Health official certificate states that the cause of death was "cirrhosis of liver," but, as if anticipating the "objection of counsel," the physician added a question mark on next line! 

Mark Thompson, a former member of the New Mexico Bar, lives in Centennial Colorado.  He is the great grandson of Nicholas Galles and the grandson of Mark B. Thompson.

Bridal Chamber Mine a Centennial Journey

by Craig Springer
The Bridal Chamber, perhaps the richest silver mine in the history of the American Southwest, is the story twice-told.  And we're telling it again, here, thanks to the Office of the State Historian.

The Bridal Chamber is located in Lake Valley, New Mexico, once a thriving boomtown. The 1885 Territorial Census counted 183 people living in Lake Valley while nearby Hillsboro had 376 residents, and 329 people lived in Kingston, according to the University of New Mexico's Bureau of Business and Economic Research.   All three towns were busy places.  Lake Valley was the jumping-off place for train passengers.  Those not staying at Lake Valley moved on by stage to the other two mining towns of western Sierra County.

Enjoy this Centennial Journey (click here), an audio presentation in celebration of the New Mexico's 100 years of statehood.

The labor force that extracted the mineral wealth of the Bridal Chamber lived at Lake Valley, seen here circa 1890. Photo Black Range Museum.

Timbers prop open the Bridal Chamber as mine workers pause for a photo in a moment of levity. Photo Black Range Museum.

Extracting minerals from the earth is a labor-intensive affair, as evidenced by this Bridal Chamber reduction operation at Lake Valley. Photo Black Range Museum.

Panic of 1893

By Brandon Dupont, Ph.D.
While it was later eclipsed by the 1907 financial crisis and the Great Depression, the Panic of 1893 remains one of the most severe financial crises in American history. Its impact on Sierra County, New Mexico was lasting. Silver mining towns, like Kingston, were all but abandoned in short order.

This 1895 poster for the Broadway melodrama, The War of Wealth, depicted the national economic crisis, and the run on banks that effected lasting change at Kingston and silver mines in the West.  Library of Congress.

The panic, and the economic depression that followed through the year 1897, had wide-ranging effects on the national economy, including an unemployment rate that remained stubbornly above 10 percent for five consecutive years. Its impact goes beyond just the widespread bank runs and the negative effects of high, persistent unemployment; perhaps more importantly, the crisis brought the decades-long debate over the bimetallic standard to the forefront, culminating most colorfully in William Jennings Bryan’s 1896 presidential campaign. Bryan’s “Cross of Gold” speech ended with a flourish:  "Having behind us the producing masses of this nation and the world, supported by the commercial interests, the laboring interests and the toilers everywhere, we will answer their demand for a gold standard by saying to them: You shall not press down upon the brow of labor this crown of thorns, you shall not crucify mankind upon a cross of gold."

Named for U.S. Mint engraver,
George Morgan, the Morgan Dollar was
common currency in 1890. U.S. Mint.

Since bimetallism was an important factor in 1893, as evident in Bryan’s speech, a quick review should be helpful. Starting with the first Treasury Secretary Alexander Hamilton, the U.S. economy had been on a bimetallic standard. Under that standard, U.S. currency was equivalent to a certain quantity of gold and a certain quantity of silver; initially, the prices were set such that 15 ounces of silver were equivalent to 1 ounce of gold. Because of deviations between this official price and the world market price, only one of the two metals would circulate in the American economy at any given time. From Hamilton’s 1792 coinage act until 1834, silver was in circulation because gold was undervalued at its official price; therefore, it made economic sense to export gold coins to Europe, exchange them there for silver, then import that silver back into the U.S. This all changed in 1834 when the official ratio was changed to 16 ounces of silver per 1 ounce of gold, which then made gold overvalued so that it slowly began to replace silver, which was either hoarded or exported. Starting in 1834, the U.S. moved to a currency system where gold was the circulating coin. Silver dollars remained largely out of circulation from 1836 until the 1873 coinage act. 

At first, the 1873 act seemed only to legally recognize the demonetization of silver dollars; after all, they had not been used since 1834. Even the representatives of the silver interests in Congress did not object to the legislation. But in a curious twist of history, what was thought to be mere legislative housekeeping quickly became a highly politically charged issue. Silver prices had started to fall in 1872, but the decline accelerated shortly after the 1873 legislation mostly because of increased silver supplies from new mines in the American West. Because of the falling silver prices, U.S. silver producers had an incentive to bring silver to the U.S. mint for coinage. They did just that only to discover that they were legally barred from having silver coined by the 1873 legislation, which they quickly dubbed the “crime of ’73.” 

Kingston came to life in fall of 1882. Its roughly 1,200 residents circa 1890 were tucked in the narrow Middle Percha Creek canyon captured on a glass-plate negative here by photographer J.C. Burge. Photo Black Range Museum

By 1878, the silver interests were successful in getting Congress to pass the first of two significant silver purchase laws, the Bland-Allison Act, but the pro-silver interests were not satisfied because that legislation did not provide for unlimited coinage of silver. The second significant Congressional action did not come until the 1890 Sherman Silver Purchase Act. This legislation also failed to provide for unlimited silver coinage but it did increase the amount of silver purchased every month by the U.S. government, and by then, silver mining was in full-swing in Kingston and Lake Valley, New Mexico.

All of this led to considerable uncertainty by the early 1890s as to whether the U.S. economy could remain on the gold standard. Adding to the problems, the Treasury’s gold reserves had fallen to dangerously low levels by 1893; this was exacerbated by news that the Treasury would stop redeeming the notes issued under the 1890 act in gold if the reserves fell below $100 million. 

Lots of flags waved in Kingston at the patriotic event circa 1890. Only the Percha Bank building remains today, and is a beautiful museum.  The bank incorporated in 1886 by President McKinley pal, Jefferson Raynolds, and boasted holding $30,000 in cash in 1890. J.C. Burge photo courtesy Black Range Museum.

These long-running issues of gold versus silver certainly played a role in the 1893 crisis but there were many other contributing factors. Important among them were significant distress in western agricultural markets caused by declining crop yields and falling agricultural prices. Another factor in the depression was the slowdown in railroad construction that had peaked in the railroad boom of 1880s. Moreover, American exports to Europe had dropped as European economies struggled. 

The Percha Bank building stands on the left, looking west, in 1919. The Panic of 1893 devastated silver mining towns throughout the West. Kingston produced $6.2 million in mineral wealth, mostly silver, according to a 1904 report. Photo courtesy Black Range Museum.

The crisis culminated in the summer of 1893 with widespread bank runs. Of course, this was long before the introduction of federal deposit insurance (that does not arrive until 1933), so any risk that a depositor’s bank would fail tended to immediately lead that depositor to withdraw funds from the bank. Bank runs, wherein large numbers of depositors did just this, spread rapidly and, while they occurred nationwide, they were concentrated in the western states. In total, nearly 500 banks in the U.S. suspended their operations at least for a time to weather the storm. The economy officially went into recession in January 1893, a few months prior to the waves of bank runs that hit that summer. The affect was felt locally -- Kingston being a silver town was abandoned and never rebounded. After a brief economic recovery in late 1894 and into 1895, the economy plunged back into recession by the end of 1895 and would not officially climb out of recession until the summer of 1897. 

A legacy of the 1893 crisis remains with us today: the National Monetary Commission, whose work and recommendations led to the formation of the Federal Reserve System in 1914, noted in its report on financial crises that, while the causes of crises were varied, the method of handling them was simple. There should be, the report concluded, a reserve of lending power because the ability to increase loans from a central reserve to meet the demands of depositors “would have allayed every panic since the establishment of the national banking system [in 1864].”  Locally, the hillsides around Kingston are pocked with the work of expectant silver prospectors in what they left behind.