Remembering 9-11

By Craig Springer
The date, September 11, is seared in American memory. And it was one that perhaps was not forgotten by those who lived in and around Hillsboro in 1879.

In August of that year, the Apache leader Victorio launched a rampage that made its mark in history. Victorio, followed by tens if not hundreds of disenchanted Mimbres and  Mescalero Apaches, and probably Comanche Indians too, raided ranches and isolated military outposts in southern New Mexico, west Texas, and northern Chihuahua.

On September 11, a posse of armed citizen from Hillsboro led by the likes of town pioneers, Joe Yankie and Nicholas Galles, confronted Apaches at H.D. McEver's Ranch 15 miles south of Hillsboro. McEver's Ranch would shortly become the first townsite of Lake Valley following a silver strike.

Nicholas Galles, Hillsboro's first
postmaster, was at McEver's Ranch
on 9-11-1879.
Photo Mark B. Thompson III. 

The number of Hillsboro men engaged in the battle vary, as do the number killed--and so does the actual date--depending upon which report you read. A review of the literature reveals that anywhere from a half dozen to 15 men were killed in action. The 1880 Secretary of War's report to Congress offers some insight as to the geographic extent of the Apache depredations. As for those known to have been killed at McEver's Ranch on September 11, 1879, they were: Steve Hanlon, Thomas Hughes, Thorton, Preissier, Green, Dr. Williams, and I. Chavez.

Other documented works by writers Dan Thrapp, Edwin Sweeney, and Joseph Stout make mention of an entire ranch family murdered and mutilated on Jaralosa Creek a mere few miles from McEver's Ranch that same day. The names of those victims are not reported.

The eastern front of the Black Range would see more action between Apaches, citizens of Hillsboro, and the U.S. Army for another seven years. But in the short-term, McEver's Ranch was the site of a heated battle with the 9th Cavalry, the famous Buffalo Soldiers, led by Maj. A.P. Morrow. If the brief New York Times account, you can sense a frustration that dogged the military in the Victorio campaign that lasted until late 1880. In October 1879, the Apaches attacked McEver's Ranch again, and burnt down its buildings. Because of its location--central to Ft. Cummings to the south and Camp Ojo Caliente and Camp Hillsboro/Camp Boyd to the north--McEver's Ranch would be occupied by the U.S. Army for much of the Victorio and the Geronimo Campaign to come in 1885-86. And coincidentally, September 11, 1885 was a significant date for several ranch families who lost kin to Geronimo near Lake Valley--Abeyta, Hollage, Horn, McKinn, Pollock.

You can read about these events and more in Around Hillsboro a new book written by members of the Hillsboro Historical Society. You can find it in local book stores, and the Black Range Museum.

Paper Hearts - 1991

It seems like only yesterday, but it's been 20 years since Sally Kirkland, James Brolin, Kris Kristofferson and all of the attending movie-making matter came upon Hillsboro. The outcome was "Paper Hearts." It wasn't the first movie made around Hillsboro, and it wasn't the last. Was it the best? That's a matter of taste, of course. You'll just have to rent it and see for yourself.  But before you do, you can watch this trailer here and get a glimpse of Hillsboro two decades ago.  -- Craig Springer


Making "Paper Hearts" (Cheatin' Hearts) 1991 from Rich Tamayo on Vimeo.

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.

Fire Truck Returns Home

It's not news, but some things are worth repeating. The Hillsboro Historical Society located, bought, and brought home a 1946 fire truck in 2009. The signage reveals a history. Underneath newest, albeit well-worn, lettering were the words indicating the truck had first belonged to the Hot Springs Fire Dept.  You can read more about the truck and fire history on the New Mexico Centennial web site.  

Happy Independence Day

Hillsboro has been known to throw a good party on the Fourth of July, and today will no doubt be the same. Here's a look at few images captured early in the 20th Century.

This 1919 Deming Headlight makes an invitation to Luna County residents to come visit. See bottom-right column. Courtesy Patti Nunn

Without a rodeo arena, cars parked along the Percha afforded a place to watch cowboys put on a show, in 1920. Courtesy Patti Nunn

Who needs fireworks when you have this? This image was taken moments apart from the previous image. Courtesy Patti Nunn

Near the present-day post office, folks gathered round to watch a drilling contest--miners competing bust rock faster than the other guy. Courtesy Patti Nunn

Gangs Violence in Hillsboro -- 1961

The El Paso Times reported it -- gang violence in Hillsboro. Trish Long, the El Paso Times' archivist posted this copyrighted newspaper story on her blog, Tales from the Morgue. 

______________________________________________________

April 22, 1961
Rival Bootlegger Gangs Battle In Hillsboro
Armed with clubs and whisky bottles, rival bootlegger battled on the main street at Hillsboro, N.M, over the ownership of a load of liquor, it was learned in El Paso, Wednesday.

Broken heads, bruised bodies and the loss of most of the liquor, which was used as ammunition, was the total casualties in the battle.

Henry Railston, star witness in the Hot Springs, N.M, conspiracy cases tried at Albuquerque, N. M. last year, was trailing the source of the whisky Wednesday. Railston is a prohibition officer.

The battle is reported to have begun when the Chihuahua settlement gang hijacked a load of liquor from the Main street gang in Hillsboro. Frightened by the crashing of glass, citizens ducked into doorways and alleys as the fight progressed.

The battle ended when the Chihuahua settlement gang withdrew from the field. ______________________________________________________

This begs the questions, who were in these gangs, and are these participants still living? What became of Henry Railston, and are there photos out there documenting this event? --Craig Springer

Meet the Press - Kingston

by Craig Springer
Any reader of area history is familiar with this phrase, or a derivation: "It had 7,000 people, 22 saloons, 14 grocers, and three newspapers." We speak of Kingston. Ghost Towns and Mining Camps by James and Barbara Sherman, exemplifies the snapshot ghost town profiles that pack in the interesting and arcane fun facts of a rip-roaring past in a small printed space. The Shermans even name the three periodicals. Theirs is the story twice-told. But we're not telling it again here, because the Shermans had it wrong: Kingston had 10 newspapers!

Meet the Kingston press by order of appearance--and disappearance. Also included in this list is the frequency of publication. This is thanks in large part to the University of New Mexico Press book, The Territorial Press of New Mexico, by Porter Stratton.

While prospectors were scratching around on the east face of the Black Range as early as the late 1870s, industry had picked up by 1880. In September 1882, the town of Kingston was platted. The boom was on. According to one early observer, writing for the Engineering and Mining Journal who was there in November 1882, a printing press had already lumbered into town. That press seems probable to have belonged to this first Kingston newspaper on our list.

January - October 1883. Weekly. Tribune. Moved to Deming.

January - November 1884. Weekly. Clipper. Renamed the Sierra County Advocate.

November 1884 - March 1885. Weekly. Sierra County Advocate. Moved to Hillsboro March 1885.

April 1885 - March 1886. No publications per Stratton.

April  - July 1886. Weekly. Percha Shaft. Merged with Ledge summer 1886.

July 1886. Daily. Ledge.  Merged with Percha Shaft summer 1886.

July - December 1886. Weekly. Percha Shaft and Ledge. Became Daily Shaft.

December 1886 - March 1887. Daily. Daily Shaft. Became Weekly Shaft.

December 1886 - February 1887. Weekly. Black Range Herald. Combined with Sierra County Advocate.

Fall of 1888. Weekly. Sierra County Democrat. An election campaign publication.

March 1887 - December 1893. Weekly. Weekly Shaft. Moved to Rincon.

Newspapers came and went in Kingston. Based on Stratton, 10 newspapers called Kingston home but never did any of them compete with one another for any length. Only one periodical had any lasting life, the Weekly Shaft. It too found its end as did much of the boom town with the Panic of 1893.

Comparably, in the same time period (1883 - 1893) Albuquerque with a population of 3,785 in 1890 had 16 daily and weekly English-only newspapers, according to Stratton, many competing with one another for readers. Also it's worth noting that during the oft-reported heyday of Kingston, c. 1885 - 86 where some writers say Kingston reached its peak population, that no newspaper published in Kingston for an entire 12 months.

It begs the question, what was different with Kingston? Did Stratton miss something? Email or comment with your ideas.

Daisy Wilson Interviewed

Listen to what long-time Sierra County resident, Daisy Wilson, has to say about life back in the day. Miss Wilson lived in Lake Valley and her ancestor, Oliver Wilson, built the Victorio Hotel in Kingston in 1885, about five years after the Apache Victorio was killed in Mexico. You'll note the hotel photo in the video.  Daisy donated use of many photos for the forthcoming book, Around Hillsboro, for which the Hillsboro Historical Society is most grateful.Thanks go to Sherry Fletcher and Ann Wellborn, and Campo Espinoso.

Teapot Dome: Literature and Litigation

by Mark B. Thompson

I must admit my surprise in February 2008 when I first saw a Los Angeles Times book review of Laton McCartney’s book, The Teapot Dome Scandal: How Big Oil Bought the Harding White House and Tried to Steal the Country. Really! After over 80 years and numerous political scandals would Americans still be interested in a 1920’s political scandal? Notwithstanding the involvement of an ancestor in the litigation, (who died when I was only three years old), I had limited my reading to the chapter on Albert Bacon Fall in W.A. Keleher’s Fabulous Frontier, but with this new publication I thought I should see if I could get through a whole book.

McCartney’s book may not have been a “best seller” but you have to appreciate a writer who could start a bribery scandal story with a chapter on an Oklahoma oil man who wanted to be appointed Secretary of the Interior by President Harding, only to be killed by his mistress before Harding’s inauguration on March 4, 1921. As you might guess from the subtitle, McCartney takes a “tabloid” approach to the story and attempts to place Albert Fall of New Mexico, the Secretary of the Interior appointed by Harding, in the context of a corrupt Harding administration. Although it is an entertaining read, and one does learn the basics of the questionable leasing of public lands for oil development, it is not clear that McCartney succeeded in making “Teapot Dome” part of a larger “culture of corruption.” 

Albert Fall (l) and Ed Doheny, with lawyers Frank Hogan and Mark B. Thompson I. Fall and Doheny met in Kingston, NM in 1886. Attorney Thompson is connected to Hillsboro history too, having married Nicholas Galles' daughter, Georgia. This photo was taken during the Teapot Dome scandal trials on Oct. 2, 1929. Courtesy Associated Press

Having survived the first read, I next tried David Stratton’s Tempest over Teapot Dome: The Story of Albert B. Fall, published by the University of Oklahoma Press in 1998. As the subtitle implies, this is a biography of the “main character” of Teapot Dome and the book should please those interested in the New Mexico history. Stratton spends the first two thirds of his book laying the foundation for a story of one man’s malfeasance, not a conspiracy by “big oil” or the “Ohio gang” of President Harding. At the same time, Stratton’s extensive biography of Albert Fall in some ways shows that a “fall from grace” was not inevitable.  Without exonerating Fall of misdeeds, Stratton shows a different context, both political and personal.

W.A. Keleher, a prominent and successful lawyer in addition to his role as a New Mexico historian, does exonerate Fall, at least to the extent of saying he did not believe the evidence showed “beyond a reasonable doubt” that Fall had committed a crime. [Keleher, in his 1962, revised edition of Fabulous Frontier recommends yet another full story, Burl Noggle, Teapot Dome: Oil and Politics in the 1920’s (LSU Press, 1962), which I have not yet read.] It should be noted that Keleher was referring to all of the evidence, not just the evidence submitted to the jury which convicted Fall in the Elk Hills bribery prosecution. On the other hand, we should not overlook the fact that Fall received “loan proceeds” and payment for an interest in his ranch clandestinely and asked a good friend, the publisher of the Washington Post, to lie to a Senate investigating committee. One could conclude that Fall knew he had abused his position as Secretary of the Interior.

What is called “the Teapot Dome scandal,” involved two separate “untapped” oil reserves held by the United States for the U.S. Navy, one at Elk Hills near Bakersfield, California and one north of Casper, Wyoming, commonly known as “Teapot Dome.” The two transactions which led to the scandal(s) are complex but they in essence involved Secretary Fall persuading President Harding to transfer some authority from the Secretary of the Navy to Interior and Fall’s use of the Mineral Leasing Act of 1920 to lease the reserves for exploration and development. As Fall negotiated the deals with their respective companies, he borrowed money from Edward Doheny, giving him a promissory note as consideration, and accepted government bonds from Harry Sinclair, ostensibly as the purchase price for an interest in Fall’s Three Rivers, New Mexico ranch in Otero County. A good synopsis of the two transactions, as well as the “side deals,” can be found in two U.S. Supreme decisions concluding the civil cases brought by the United States to set aside the leases. The holding of both cases is that the executive branch of the government lacked legislative authority to lease the naval oil reserves for development.

Because he is writing a biography, Stratton deals with two issues that are probably of keen interest to New Mexicans. The “defense” of Fall and Doheny in the three criminal cases involving Elk Hills was that Doheny had simply made a loan to a friend. In the final trial, the prosecution of Doheny for giving a bribe, the oilman took the stand and described his early days in Kingston, New Mexico and how Fall came along in 1886, the two men becoming good friends. Stratton does not directly dispute the stories of friendship, but implies that this “mining buddies” story was embellished. It may be that there is no independent evidence, like a partnership in business, for example, that would support the self-serving testimony at trial.

Stratton also covers Fall’s early mining ventures in Mexico and his career in the U.S. Senate. Fall served during the final effort by Congress to find the “common ground” necessary for passage of the Mineral Leasing Act of 1920, with Fall obviously taking the side of the states and natural resource developers. [See e.g., speeches on Aug. 22 & 25, 1919. (58 Cong. Rec. pp. 4168-71, 4269-70 & 4280-90).]  Fall, as Secretary of the Interior just a year after passage of the landmark law, might have taken the “high road,” using his bully pulpit to encourage exploitation of federal lands. We might know him today as the “anti-Gifford Pinchot,” a hero of natural resource development! Instead of becoming an embarrassment for New Mexicans, he might have been hailed as the man who moved our economy forward. One can imagine the legislature renaming a certain resource rich county, originally named for St. John in 1887, as “Albert Bacon Fall County.” It was not to be.

Mark B. Thompson, III is a former member of the New Mexico Bar. His grandfather, Mark B. Thompson, was Albert Bacon Fall's attorney. The eldest Thompson married Hillsboro native, Edith Georgia Galles, daughter of Sierra County pioneer, Nicholas Galles and wife Harriett Stocker Galles.

APPENDIX: The “Teapot Dome” litigation, mostly final results, in chronological order.

(1) December 16, 1926.  Fall and Doheny acquitted by jury of conspiracy to lease Elk Hills.  “Fall And Doheny Freed.” The New York Times (Friday, Dec. 17, 1926), p. 1.

(2) February 28, 1927. In a civil case brought by the government, the U.S. Supreme Court upholds the court of appeals decision terminating the Elk Hills lease on the grounds that the lease violated federal law. Pan-American Petroleum & Transp. Co. v. United States, 273 U.S. 456 (1927).

(3) October 10, 1927.  In a civil case brought by the government, the U.S. Supreme Court upholds the court of appeals decision terminating the Teapot Dome lease on the grounds that the lease violated federal law. Mammoth Oil Co. v. United States, 275 U.S. 13 (1927).  (In this case, the U.S. District Court in Wyoming had denied relief to the government.)

(4) April 21, 1928. Harry F. Sinclair acquitted of conspiring with Albert Fall to obtain Teapot Dome lease.  (Prosecution had originally charged both Fall and Sinclair but proceeded against Sinclair alone due to Fall’s obtaining a continuance due to his ill health; Fall never tried for this crime.)  “Sinclair Acquitted Of Oil Lease Fraud; Jury Out 2 Hours,” The New York Times (Sunday, April 22, 1928), p.1.

(5) October 25, 1929.  Fall found guilty by D.C. jury of taking a bribe from Doheny for the Elk Hills lease.  “Fall Found Guilty in Oil Bribe Case; Jury Asks Mercy,” The New York Times (Saturday, October 16, 1929), p. 1.

(6) March 22, 1930. Doheny is acquitted by a D.C. jury of giving the bribe to Fall to obtain the Elk Hills lease.  “Doheny Is Acquitted Of Fall Oil Bribe; Sees ‘Hounding’ Over,” The New York Times (Sunday, March 23, 1930), p. 1.

(7) April 6, 1931.  U. S. Court of Appeals upholds conviction of Fall for taking a bribe from Doheny.  Fall v. United States, 49 F.2^nd 506 (D.C. Circuit 1931). (U.S. Sup. Ct. later denied certiorari, i.e. refused to hear the case.)  Fall is allowed to serve his time in the New Mexico State Penitentiary.  Santa Fe legend has it that he was allowed frequent visits by Mrs. Fall and possibly even unofficial “release time.”

In addition, two cases “arose out of” the Teapot Dome scandal, but technically are not part of the effort by the United States, in either civil or criminal proceedings, to set aside the leases and punish the wrongdoers.  On April 8, 1929, the U.S. Supreme Court upheld the conviction of Harry Sinclair for contempt of Congress, i.e., refusing to give testimony to a Senate committee. (The opinion contains an outline of the Senate investigation history.)  Sinclair v. United States, 279 U.S. 263 (1929).  On June 3, 1929, the U.S. Supreme Court upheld the conviction of Harry Sinclair and others for contempt of court, i.e. for “tampering” with the jury in the conspiracy case against Fall & Sinclair, which had resulted in a mistrial on November 2, 1927.  Sinclair v. United States, 279 U.S. 749 (1929). Sinclair’s sentences for these two criminal convictions would be served concurrently in the District of Columbia jail.   

Congrats Class of 1931

This May 1931 Hillsboro High Times has more ads than copy. You can soon read the entire issue, plus the Feb-March 1931 issue at the Hillsboro Community Library, housed in the former high school. Both are a generous gift to the Hillsboro Historical Society from Sierra County resident, Celisse Behnen.

Hillsboro High Times, May 1931.

The Hillsboro High School was built in 1922 by the architectural firm Trost & Trost of El Paso. The architect's work not only graces Hillsboro's skyline, but that of El Paso, Tucson, and Albuquerque. Several New Mexico State University building were designed by Trost & Trost. The Hillsboro High School building is today the center of community activities, and the only public building left in the former Sierra County seat. --Craig Springer

A rendering of the Hillsboro High School, now the Hillsboro Community Center, drawn in 1921 by Trost & Trost. The original is housed at the El Paso Public Library.