Introduction by Brent and Lynae
OK. Now, when you read this book, I want to tell you, it's not exactly how it happened. You see, Mom took us on this trip through New Mexico the summer Lynae turned 12, mostly to see Grandma Lucy and then down to southern Arizona to see our oldest sister, Cheryse and her three little girls. I was already 13 and a half that summer. Then we traveled again the following summer. During this time period we lived with our dad and step-mom in an apartment near Summerlin in Las Vegas, Nevada.
I’m not going to explain about the joint custody, because that is a whole ‘nother book. Mom explained to us ahead of time that on these trips we would be seeing some of the sights that belonged to her family history; a lot of them that she had never seen, because she didn't grow up in New Mexico.
But some of the things in this book didn't happen exactly in the order that they are told. You see, we kind of jumped around from place to place and time to time, because when we took the trip in real time, we had to kind of stay on the road and follow the map, but when Lynae and I traveled around through the past, we didn't always follow the map -- or the calendar. So when the book was written, we thought it would be better to tell it in historical order. So sometimes, the story about our trip gets a little out of order, to put the story of our adventures into a chronological order.
Well, Brent, aren't you going to tell them that they can travel through time using their imaginations, and using the history and genealogy in this book, they can have the same adventures and exciting visits to the past?
No, Lynae, I think I'll just let them find that out on their own. They might not believe in time travel, or they just might not like adventure.
Maybe we should tell them that the history and genealogy information are accurate as far as we know, and the stories about when we are with Mom, are accurate, except for time order, and the rest. . .
I think you just did. I’m just sorry we couldn’t include all the neat people we met and especially all the relatives, but that would have taken several more volumes.
We should have kept better journals. Maybe we can return some day and spend more time.
Oh, well, maybe we should just let them read the book and decide for themselves.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Chaves clarifies the Name Baca or Vaca
IntroduChaves clarifies: [1]
“The correct spelling of this family name is VACA but already in the seventeenth century BACA had come into common usage, and was the accepted spelling after the Reconquest. Although it is derived from Cabeza de Vaca, a title and name received by a Spanish hero in the year 1212, the full name was never once used by this New Mexico family for over two centuries. Several Vacas came to the New World shortly after its discovery. Among those in Cortes’ time were Diego de Vaca, a native of Mancilla in Leon and Luis Vaca, a native of Toledo. Either of these could have been the father of Juan Vaca, the father of our Cristóbal Baca.
These were among the founding families of New Mexico; the first colonists, the very roots upon which the branches of many New Mexico families were established. These were among the few families that survived the initial Indian raids, the purging of rebels and deserters and mutinies. They were the strong, the brave, the few who lived to establish your ancestral families in the new world of New Mexico as the world moved into the new seventeenth century.”
[1]Origins p 23ction by Brent and Lynae
“The correct spelling of this family name is VACA but already in the seventeenth century BACA had come into common usage, and was the accepted spelling after the Reconquest. Although it is derived from Cabeza de Vaca, a title and name received by a Spanish hero in the year 1212, the full name was never once used by this New Mexico family for over two centuries. Several Vacas came to the New World shortly after its discovery. Among those in Cortes’ time were Diego de Vaca, a native of Mancilla in Leon and Luis Vaca, a native of Toledo. Either of these could have been the father of Juan Vaca, the father of our Cristóbal Baca.
These were among the founding families of New Mexico; the first colonists, the very roots upon which the branches of many New Mexico families were established. These were among the few families that survived the initial Indian raids, the purging of rebels and deserters and mutinies. They were the strong, the brave, the few who lived to establish your ancestral families in the new world of New Mexico as the world moved into the new seventeenth century.”
[1]Origins p 23ction by Brent and Lynae
Preface to Volume II Turn the Hearts of the Children
Brent and Lynae registered for school in Clark County School district after their first summer trip to New Mexico. Lynae continued at Becker Middle School in eighth grade until Christmas break, when their father moved them to Henderson. Brent began his four year study at Rancho Academy of Aerospace and Aviation, the magnet high school in North Las Vegas. To do this he took a city bus "CAT" bus from Summerlin over ten miles to Rancho High School down town. Although the school district provided transportation for magnet school students from their home school, Brent voluntarily attended early morning seminary for forty five minutes before school by catching a CAT bus at 4:30 every day with his friends Emily, Justin and another Brent to attend seminary at 5:45 and then walk a half mile to Rancho high school from the meeting house to attend 7:00 a.m. early bird classes that extended their curriculum to include the magnet classes. After school if there were sports, meetings or other activities, they stayed until four or five, then rode the CAT bus an hour home. Highly motivated students trying to live their religious commitments as well as pursue their goals for the future have earned my admiration.
Read this book in the order it is told
Maybe we should tell the readers to read the book in the order that they are told. Brent, aren't you going to tell them that they can travel through time using their imaginations, and using the history and genealogy in this book, they can have the same adventures and exciting visits to the past?
No, Lynae, I think I'll just let them find that out on their own. They might not believe in time travel, or they just might not like adventure.
Maybe we should tell them that the history and genealogy information are accurate as far as we know, and the stories about when we are with Mom, are accurate, except for time order, and the rest. . .
I think you just did. I’m just sorry we couldn’t include all the neat people we met and especially all the relatives, but that would have taken several more volumes.er that they are told.
No, Lynae, I think I'll just let them find that out on their own. They might not believe in time travel, or they just might not like adventure.
Maybe we should tell them that the history and genealogy information are accurate as far as we know, and the stories about when we are with Mom, are accurate, except for time order, and the rest. . .
I think you just did. I’m just sorry we couldn’t include all the neat people we met and especially all the relatives, but that would have taken several more volumes.er that they are told.
Whirlwind Tour of New Mexico 2000
Whirlwind Tour
Brent and Lynae were at the end of summer vacation with Mom. The three had driven the 1990 Escort® from Orem, Utah, through Durango, Colorado, and Farmington, New Mexico, to begin a quick tour of the state of New Mexico before the kids had to return to Las Vegas to begin the new school year at Becker Middle School. They spent a few minutes scanning the boxes of genealogy and history books Mom carried along—without much enthusiasm. “They’re just names of people who died a long time ago,” Lynae grumbled. “Why should we be interested in a bunch of dead ancestors?”
Mom ignored the comment and changed the subject. “If you watch the odometer in about ten miles we can celebrate the one hundred thousand mark. Watch, it will magically change over to zero, zero, zero!” Mom announced proudly as she drove between Cuba, New Mexico and Albuquerque. Visiting Grandma Lucy was the main objective, but stirring up some interest in these two youngest about family history had been high on her list. Exiting the highway toward Río Rancho, Mom read a sign: “Coronado State Park”. That looks interesting. Maybe we can kidnap Grandma and take her with us to visit the park. I hope she can go up to Santa Fé with us too! It would be fun to take her along. I’d like you to get to know her a little. We see her so seldom.“
Grandma Lucy agreed to visit the park later in the evening when it wasn’t so hot. The four tourists parked and walked along the walk-way toward the cave like atmosphere which protected ancient hieroglyphic rocks and less ancient Spanish relics. Brent and Lynae wandered aimlessly through the displays as Mom ooed and awed about the history. Secretly they imitated her enthusiasm.
Grandma Lucy declined the Sunday trip to Santa Fé but insisted she’d have dinner ready for their return.
After three days based at Grandma Lucy’s, the little family drove away early in the morning heading south on I -70 with the goal of reaching El Paso before dark. The plan was to drive on to Safford, Arizona, the following day to visit older sister, Cheryse, with her three little girls, and then back to Orem for a couple of days before Brent and Lynae would fly back to Las Vegas, a week before the first day of school.
“Mom, we’ve been driving forever. When are we going to get to El Paso?” Lynae began grumbling as she woke from sleeping in the back seat. “I want the front seat now. Brent, you’ve had it all morning. I’ve been cramped up in the back seat the whole day.”
“Hijita mía,” Mom attempted to calm her daughter. “Look at the mountains on the left. Do you see them?”
“Yeah, they’re so far away they look blue.”
“Those are the mountains the wagons followed on the long journeys to Santa Fé, and back again to El Paso after the Indian massacres many years later.”
Lynae gazed out the window staring at the long line of bluish mountains to the East. The clouds were darkening and the rain began to spatter on the windshield.
“Oh, no! Now it’s going to rain all day.” Lynae whined again.
“No té preocupas, hijita. The rain comes quickly and only lasts an hour or two in the summer. Look at the mountains, Lynae. See the place where it makes a V and seems to end, then start again. That‘s the pass in the mountains that the wagons took across the river and into El Paso. I want to go there when we stop. I’d like to see Oñates pass to the north that marks the beginning of Europeans into New Mexico history.”
Lynae curled back up on the back seat pulling the Indian blanket purchased in Santa Fé around her to fend off the chill feeling that the pouring rain and the flashing lightening gave her. She dozed off and on again for the rest of the drive.
Brent asked, “No te preocupas. What does that mean in English?”
“I don’t know. I never thought about it.” Mom answered distracted by the pouring rain. “Oh, yes, I guess it is the familiar command -- don’t you preoccupy yourself -- don’t worry about it.” Mom translated very literally.
“Did you talk Spanish in your family when you were a kid?”
“No. I learned it in high school, and then I got a minor in Spanish in college about a million years ago. I’ve forgotten more than I ever knew, I guess.”
“Grandma Lucy speaks Spanish. Didn’t she talk to you in Spanish?”
“Mother spoke Spanish only with her sisters. It used to frustrate me so bad when they would start a story in English then finish the punch line in Spanish. I would beg to know what they said, and then one of them would say, ‘o como me molestas tú.’ I knew that meant I was being a pest. The clichés I understood. I didn’t know the direct translations, but like any child acquiring language, the meaning was clear in the circumstances and tone of voice.
“What sounded to me like Balgumydeeous - was actually, Válgame Diós -- literally, Bless me my god[1] -- accompanied great relief or need for relief -- almost a prayer but somehow more demanding.
“When she said, ‘Commomolestessto -- como me molestes tú.’ (You are bothering me.) That needed no translation; the tone of voice said it all. When she called us Swato, we knew it meant we'd done something foolish, and...."
“Is that what you mean when you call me Swato, Brent?” Lynae was awake and listening, and sat up at the sound of the way too familiar Spanish word.
"That’s like the joke about the Lone Ranger getting scalped when his Indian friend found out what Tonto meant!” Brent started in teasing again.
“What does it mean?" Lynae demanded.
“It means fool, like Swato,” Brent translated all too eagerly.
“Mom, he calls me that too! Brent, I feel angry. . .” Lynae attempted an “I message response” like her counselor-Mom had been trying to teach her.
"O, como me molestan -- both of you. Can’t you just love each other?” Mom begged. Then added in an undertone they could barely hear; “Tonto got his own back by calling the Lone Ranger ‘Quein no sabe” which is ‘he who knows nothing.’”
“We love each other. We’re friends now." Brent remembered and stopped his teasing for a few minutes. “What else? What other Spanish did your family use?” He said emphasizing his very mature, interested face, by cupping his chin in his open hand.
“There was one she always says when she is cutting or dicing meat or vegetables with a knife. I don't know a real translation. If we tried to snitch a piece she would shake the knife almost threateningly and laugh, ‘mocha mochá’. I remember she explained the story once, about some girl nick-named Mocha, because she was so short, and the word for chopping or chopped off is something like that[2]. But I never thought she was just kidding.”
“Oooo, that’s what she said to me when she was making the turkey sandwiches and I tried to snitch a piece. I didn’t know the words, but I got the message -- clearly.” Brent confessed, pretending to count all his fingers to be sure none were missing.
“Lanza Lanza pica de la ponce, was just a little ditty, like “peek-a boo,” to make babies laugh and giggle.“ Mom continued, hoping to distract them from another quarrel. "When we got hurt or sick Mama would rub the hurt place and chant: Sana, Sana. . . ” The children chimed in, “colita de marana. Si no sanas, hoy sanarás mañana" -- just a loving little recitation reserved for our owies," she finished, looking over at them, surprised that they knew the words.
“You say that too, Mom,” they laughed.
“Do I really, hijita-mía?” Mom laughed with them.
At the Motel 6® in El Paso, after a more than satisfyingly delicious dinner across the street at Leo’s, the three settled down after showers for a TV movie.
Lynae came from the bathroom in her nightgown, with a towel wrapped around her head, and watched the TV for a minute.
“What’s happening? Who’s that? Why did she look that way? Are they going to get married? Will we get to see the wedding? Oh, I hope they show the wedding dress!” The questions shot out one after the other.
“Lynae, just listen!” Brent and Mom shushed her in unison. “Just listen, and let us listen, so we can find out what’s happening.”
The tour continued on to a quick visit in Safford with their big sister and the nieces. On the third day they hugged good-bye and headed back north through Arizona into Utah -- with a quick detour to visit Uncle Glenn’s family in Round Valley and a little back track through Gallup, New Mexico, to visit Auntie Lola.
Two days later Mom and Jenny drove them to the airport in Salt Lake City, where they all put on happy faces for the public performance. Mom went directly to the women’s restroom and cried her heart out. Jenny, quite surprised, later told her, “I always thought you were glad when we went back to ‘boarding school’ with Dad after a summer or weekend. I never knew you cried.”
“I know. I always tried to look happy ‘til you drove away with them all the weekends you drove them while you were in high school, but I would save the tears for after you left. It’s always a relief to get back to what ever normal is, but it is so hard to let them to back every time. It doesn’t seem to get any easier. They have to go back to a new apartment, new neighborhood, and start in a huge new school, so it was especially hard to let them go this time.”
“But they’ll be back next month.” Jenny just patted her Mom on the shoulder trying to comfort her and hold back her own tears, for the first time realizing what it was like from this side of the eight year long joint custody arrangement.
[1] Ed. Note: actually—be of value to me, God—or stand with me now, God.
[2] Ed. Note: Mocha is He cuts. Mochar is to cut
Brent and Lynae were at the end of summer vacation with Mom. The three had driven the 1990 Escort® from Orem, Utah, through Durango, Colorado, and Farmington, New Mexico, to begin a quick tour of the state of New Mexico before the kids had to return to Las Vegas to begin the new school year at Becker Middle School. They spent a few minutes scanning the boxes of genealogy and history books Mom carried along—without much enthusiasm. “They’re just names of people who died a long time ago,” Lynae grumbled. “Why should we be interested in a bunch of dead ancestors?”
Mom ignored the comment and changed the subject. “If you watch the odometer in about ten miles we can celebrate the one hundred thousand mark. Watch, it will magically change over to zero, zero, zero!” Mom announced proudly as she drove between Cuba, New Mexico and Albuquerque. Visiting Grandma Lucy was the main objective, but stirring up some interest in these two youngest about family history had been high on her list. Exiting the highway toward Río Rancho, Mom read a sign: “Coronado State Park”. That looks interesting. Maybe we can kidnap Grandma and take her with us to visit the park. I hope she can go up to Santa Fé with us too! It would be fun to take her along. I’d like you to get to know her a little. We see her so seldom.“
Grandma Lucy agreed to visit the park later in the evening when it wasn’t so hot. The four tourists parked and walked along the walk-way toward the cave like atmosphere which protected ancient hieroglyphic rocks and less ancient Spanish relics. Brent and Lynae wandered aimlessly through the displays as Mom ooed and awed about the history. Secretly they imitated her enthusiasm.
Grandma Lucy declined the Sunday trip to Santa Fé but insisted she’d have dinner ready for their return.
After three days based at Grandma Lucy’s, the little family drove away early in the morning heading south on I -70 with the goal of reaching El Paso before dark. The plan was to drive on to Safford, Arizona, the following day to visit older sister, Cheryse, with her three little girls, and then back to Orem for a couple of days before Brent and Lynae would fly back to Las Vegas, a week before the first day of school.
“Mom, we’ve been driving forever. When are we going to get to El Paso?” Lynae began grumbling as she woke from sleeping in the back seat. “I want the front seat now. Brent, you’ve had it all morning. I’ve been cramped up in the back seat the whole day.”
“Hijita mía,” Mom attempted to calm her daughter. “Look at the mountains on the left. Do you see them?”
“Yeah, they’re so far away they look blue.”
“Those are the mountains the wagons followed on the long journeys to Santa Fé, and back again to El Paso after the Indian massacres many years later.”
Lynae gazed out the window staring at the long line of bluish mountains to the East. The clouds were darkening and the rain began to spatter on the windshield.
“Oh, no! Now it’s going to rain all day.” Lynae whined again.
“No té preocupas, hijita. The rain comes quickly and only lasts an hour or two in the summer. Look at the mountains, Lynae. See the place where it makes a V and seems to end, then start again. That‘s the pass in the mountains that the wagons took across the river and into El Paso. I want to go there when we stop. I’d like to see Oñates pass to the north that marks the beginning of Europeans into New Mexico history.”
Lynae curled back up on the back seat pulling the Indian blanket purchased in Santa Fé around her to fend off the chill feeling that the pouring rain and the flashing lightening gave her. She dozed off and on again for the rest of the drive.
Brent asked, “No te preocupas. What does that mean in English?”
“I don’t know. I never thought about it.” Mom answered distracted by the pouring rain. “Oh, yes, I guess it is the familiar command -- don’t you preoccupy yourself -- don’t worry about it.” Mom translated very literally.
“Did you talk Spanish in your family when you were a kid?”
“No. I learned it in high school, and then I got a minor in Spanish in college about a million years ago. I’ve forgotten more than I ever knew, I guess.”
“Grandma Lucy speaks Spanish. Didn’t she talk to you in Spanish?”
“Mother spoke Spanish only with her sisters. It used to frustrate me so bad when they would start a story in English then finish the punch line in Spanish. I would beg to know what they said, and then one of them would say, ‘o como me molestas tú.’ I knew that meant I was being a pest. The clichés I understood. I didn’t know the direct translations, but like any child acquiring language, the meaning was clear in the circumstances and tone of voice.
“What sounded to me like Balgumydeeous - was actually, Válgame Diós -- literally, Bless me my god[1] -- accompanied great relief or need for relief -- almost a prayer but somehow more demanding.
“When she said, ‘Commomolestessto -- como me molestes tú.’ (You are bothering me.) That needed no translation; the tone of voice said it all. When she called us Swato, we knew it meant we'd done something foolish, and...."
“Is that what you mean when you call me Swato, Brent?” Lynae was awake and listening, and sat up at the sound of the way too familiar Spanish word.
"That’s like the joke about the Lone Ranger getting scalped when his Indian friend found out what Tonto meant!” Brent started in teasing again.
“What does it mean?" Lynae demanded.
“It means fool, like Swato,” Brent translated all too eagerly.
“Mom, he calls me that too! Brent, I feel angry. . .” Lynae attempted an “I message response” like her counselor-Mom had been trying to teach her.
"O, como me molestan -- both of you. Can’t you just love each other?” Mom begged. Then added in an undertone they could barely hear; “Tonto got his own back by calling the Lone Ranger ‘Quein no sabe” which is ‘he who knows nothing.’”
“We love each other. We’re friends now." Brent remembered and stopped his teasing for a few minutes. “What else? What other Spanish did your family use?” He said emphasizing his very mature, interested face, by cupping his chin in his open hand.
“There was one she always says when she is cutting or dicing meat or vegetables with a knife. I don't know a real translation. If we tried to snitch a piece she would shake the knife almost threateningly and laugh, ‘mocha mochá’. I remember she explained the story once, about some girl nick-named Mocha, because she was so short, and the word for chopping or chopped off is something like that[2]. But I never thought she was just kidding.”
“Oooo, that’s what she said to me when she was making the turkey sandwiches and I tried to snitch a piece. I didn’t know the words, but I got the message -- clearly.” Brent confessed, pretending to count all his fingers to be sure none were missing.
“Lanza Lanza pica de la ponce, was just a little ditty, like “peek-a boo,” to make babies laugh and giggle.“ Mom continued, hoping to distract them from another quarrel. "When we got hurt or sick Mama would rub the hurt place and chant: Sana, Sana. . . ” The children chimed in, “colita de marana. Si no sanas, hoy sanarás mañana" -- just a loving little recitation reserved for our owies," she finished, looking over at them, surprised that they knew the words.
“You say that too, Mom,” they laughed.
“Do I really, hijita-mía?” Mom laughed with them.
At the Motel 6® in El Paso, after a more than satisfyingly delicious dinner across the street at Leo’s, the three settled down after showers for a TV movie.
Lynae came from the bathroom in her nightgown, with a towel wrapped around her head, and watched the TV for a minute.
“What’s happening? Who’s that? Why did she look that way? Are they going to get married? Will we get to see the wedding? Oh, I hope they show the wedding dress!” The questions shot out one after the other.
“Lynae, just listen!” Brent and Mom shushed her in unison. “Just listen, and let us listen, so we can find out what’s happening.”
The tour continued on to a quick visit in Safford with their big sister and the nieces. On the third day they hugged good-bye and headed back north through Arizona into Utah -- with a quick detour to visit Uncle Glenn’s family in Round Valley and a little back track through Gallup, New Mexico, to visit Auntie Lola.
Two days later Mom and Jenny drove them to the airport in Salt Lake City, where they all put on happy faces for the public performance. Mom went directly to the women’s restroom and cried her heart out. Jenny, quite surprised, later told her, “I always thought you were glad when we went back to ‘boarding school’ with Dad after a summer or weekend. I never knew you cried.”
“I know. I always tried to look happy ‘til you drove away with them all the weekends you drove them while you were in high school, but I would save the tears for after you left. It’s always a relief to get back to what ever normal is, but it is so hard to let them to back every time. It doesn’t seem to get any easier. They have to go back to a new apartment, new neighborhood, and start in a huge new school, so it was especially hard to let them go this time.”
“But they’ll be back next month.” Jenny just patted her Mom on the shoulder trying to comfort her and hold back her own tears, for the first time realizing what it was like from this side of the eight year long joint custody arrangement.
[1] Ed. Note: actually—be of value to me, God—or stand with me now, God.
[2] Ed. Note: Mocha is He cuts. Mochar is to cut
Las Vegas to Santa Fe
Las Vegas to Santa Fe
Brent and Lynae were bored. It was a long Labor Day weekend with no school. Their dad was working, and Gina, their stepmother, was away for the morning practicing with the choir for an upcoming regional conference. It was storming and the rain and thunder made Lynae shudder, even though the August weather in Las Vegas was still warm. Lightning flashing nearby caused her to dive onto the bed, pulling a pillow over her head with a shriek. She pulled the Indian blanket from the top of her bed and wrapped it around her shoulders.
"It makes me mad when we don't get to go with Mom for the long weekends. I liked it better when we lived close enough to Mom to visit two weekends a month,” Brent pouted ignoring his sister’s scream.
"I wish it could be summer vacation all the time so we could stay with Mom and go on adventures all year round," agreed twelve-year-old Lynae moving the pillow from her face.
"Let’s imagine an adventure with Mom. We can look through the family history books and Mom’s genealogy books and imagine that we are able to travel through time and meet with our ancestors. I’m glad she wanted us to keep her wooden chest for here while she is traveling. We can learn a lot of things about our ancestors from this stuff.”
“We already learned a bunch, stopping at every museum and historical marker in New Mexico.[1]"
"Can you imagine really meeting up with some old Spaniard and discovering he was our great-great-grandfather?" I can't even speak Spanish very well, how would we talk to them?" Brent brushed and polished the new western boots he had purchased at the leather shop on the Mexican side of the river in El Paso. The ornate designs carved into the thick leather intrigued him.
"We could wear universal translators like in Star Trek®," Lynae said, pinning on rose shaped pin she found in the chest. "Here you pin this one on, it looks like a feather pen and scroll."
"I think these pins were Mom's when she was our age. We better be sure to put them back into the display case when we are finished. They might be valuable -- at least as heirlooms." Brent stated pragmatically. “She sure didn’t want to leave the chest in a storage garage.”
As they pinned the pins onto their Colorful New Mexico T-shirts lightening blasted, illuminating the entire room, and causing the electricity to fail. The walls of the small apartment seemed to dissolve, and before them appeared the mountainous area of northern New Mexico they remembered driving through the past summer to visit their Grandma Lucy.
"Where are we? This doesn’t look like our apartment! What’s happening Brent?”
"More to the point, WHEN are we? It doesn’t even look like our century! Look at the houses and roads.”
“Look over there," Lynae followed the line of his pointing finger without, interrupting her flow of questions. "There’s two boys about our age. Let’s ask them."
Maybe they know where and when we are," Brent said hopefully, always the one to immediately want more fact and information.
As they walked closer they heard the boys talking:
"I am afraid for us, Antonio." The young Indian boy was drawing with his stick in the red dirt of the estancia outside of Santa Fe. "We have grown up together almost as brothers, but one day, we may have to fight each other as enemies."
"Why would you want to fight me?" Antonio Baca asked his young friend. We have lived together and worked together. I can't remember the time before you and I were together. My father has been your father and my mother, your mother.”
"That is all true," Juan admitted. "But when I speak with other people of my pueblo they remind me that we were taken from our real parents by your people. Taken away by the friars and soldiers that came into our pueblos forcing our parents to accept your gods and your commandments. We were taken from our homes and made to learn the catechism and our parents that would not do these things -- that would not bow down to your god -- they were killed. My people say that someday we shall be a strong people again, and then we will rise up against the Spaniards. We will take back our land and our homes, and we will live again as the Pueblo People did for centuries before your people came and conquered our lands. They say that is something we must not forget -- ever."
"That's foolish talk, Juan," Antonio shouted at his friend and foster brother. "Your people, my people! You don't even remember the Pueblos. You don't even remember how to speak the language of your fathers. You are as much a Catholic and a Spaniard as I am.
“How can you talk about fighting your own people -- we are your people, my family is your family. You are a Spaniard as much as I am."
"No, Antonio, I am of the Pueblos. Your people have changed my language and my gods and even my name. But they cannot change my heart and my skin. I was just a small child when I was taken to live with your family. I didn't even have a Pueblo name, but I know it would not have been Juan. What kind of name is Juan, anyway? It has no meaning. It is not the name of a Pueblo man!"
"You know as well as I do from our catechism, it is the name of Juan Bautisto, John the Baptist, who baptized our Lord Jesus Christ in the River Jordan in Jerusalem -- over 1600 years ago. Having his name is a great honor. Juan is also the name of the apostle that loved our Lord, and took care of Mary. ¿Why are you talking so crazy, my brother. What has gotten into you?"
Brent and Lynae looked at each other in astonishment. “Sixteen hundred years ago -- Jesus -- baptized.” Lynae stammered.
“That means we are four hundred years ago -- sometime around 1600.” Brent interpreted.
But before either Lynae or Juan could answer, Antonio’s sisters Isabel and Juana came into view from behind a barn like building. They motioned for the boys to return to the house for dinner.
"Bring your two friends along. There is plenty for everyone."
Brent passed a startled look to Lynae as they realized they had been invited to dinner at their ancestors’ table. They turned and followed the boys into the house, immediately noticing the change of temperature and the wonderful odor of cooking from the kitchen. Antonio’s mom was dressed in a simple straight dress of gamuza, made from buckskin, much like the neighboring Indian women dressed. Her long hair was pulled back and held at the nape of her neck with a decorated raw hide tie, then braided down the middle of her back to her waist. The Spanish men and women had put away their fine silks and laces for the more practical dress of the frontier. Cristóbal Baca wore chamois, and the boys were dressed in buckskin pants and shirts.
"Papá," Antonio ventured during the evening meal at the adobe house his father had built with the help of the Indian servants. "I can still remember coming here on the wagon train from Mexico City. I was very small, but I remember the long days of walking along beside the wagons and the soldiers with us. I can remember when we built our house, and I remember many things about those years when I was a small child. But I don't remember when or why Juan came to live with us here. He is like a brother to me, but he says he is just a slave like those who work with you in the fields and with the animals."
Cristóbal Baca looked at his growing son; he reminded him much of himself at that awkward age, no longer a boy, but not yet a man. The older Baca was well past forty now, dark complexioned and considered to be well featured by those who described him. Both he and his wife, Doña Ana Ortíz, had been born in Mexico City.
He gazed at the blond, fair skinned, visitor at his table, who so much resembled his own mother and grandmother of his youthful memories. Considering Antonio’s question he thought of his childhood, and remembered that often he had wondered where the country of Spain was, the country his parents had come from. He had never been able to imagine what it would be like to cross the ocean to a foreign land. Mexico City was the only home Ana had every known. What had compelled him to take his wife and three daughters and his young son to travel thousands of miles to help settle a barren wilderness? What had compelled their parents to cross the great ocean and leave their homeland in Spain, to move to a new world? He passed a meaningful glance at his wife, and chose his words carefully. The children listened silently with anticipation.
"My sons -- for Juan, I consider you my son as much as I do Antonio. Many changes are taking place in the world in your short lifetimes -- many changes for our people and for our world. Not even eighty years before I was born, explorers began traveling about the world. Until that time I have heard it said that most people thought the world was flat, thinking that Spain and the countries around Spain were all there was to the entire world. Personally, I don’t believe many thought the world was flat, that was more a myth among those who never went to sea.
“But when Queen Isabela agreed to provide ships and sailors to Cristóbal Colón Christopher Columbus) so he could follow the stories of men like Amerigus Vespucci and others who claimed the world was round -- that they could sail around the world to find trade routes to China, our world began to change very rapidly. When Columbus sailed into this New World, he reported that he had found India; he took back samples of gold and silver and even native people he found here. I understand that Amerigus Vespucci claimed that it was he who had discovered the new continent. The mapmakers of the day began labeling the new maps of this land as Amerigus' land. It soon began to be called by that name so that the whole continent was referred to as the Americas.
"I wondered about that," Lynae said thoughtfully, entering the conversation while serving the men and boys at the table. “You'd think we would call it Columbia, like in the song, 'Colombia the gem of the ocean.'[2] Lynae broke into a line of song vibrantly. Brent hushed her with a glance that she knew so well meant she was embarrassing him.
"They thought they had found India," Brent recognized the story every child learned in school and interrupted excitedly. "People began calling the natives Indians, and soon all the natives of this new land were referred to as Indians.”
“That’s right,” Papá Baca smiled, “even though there were hundreds of tribes with distinct languages, social and cultural patterns that made them very different from one another. Within a short time after Columbus reported his discoveries, more expeditions set out to find gold and silver and jewels. The stories heard in Spain told of whole cities that were plated with gold, with streets of gold and men who wore ornaments of pure gold and diamonds and silver and other riches.”
“I still hear stories from my people that such cities once did exist among their ancestors." Juan added.
Brent couldn't contain his curiosity and asked, "But what would make people leave their homes and cross an ocean to an unknown land with their families? I can't even imagine! Going to church and starting a new school in a new city is scaring me plenty."
Cristóbal explained, "In Spain at that time the wealthy landowners passed their wealth along to only the oldest of their sons -- leaving the other children with nothing to look forward to. Becoming a soldier or a member of a church order as a teacher or friar or monk was all there was, even if they had choices.
The daughters were fortunate if they were married off to a landowner, but most were not. Lynae and Isabel, by your age, you might have been promised to an older man with a family who had lost his wife, mostly to care for the house and children, or be sent to become nuns in a monastery, just to be sure you were taken care of. Brent, there wouldn't be much for you except to join the military or become a friar."
"I like the military. I would have gone into the Air Force." Brent said proudly, missing the questioning looks that passed his way from the rest of the family. It was Lynae's turn to shush Brent.
"Well,” Papá Baca continued, "there was a great deal of poverty and hardship. When the stories began to circulate of wealth and land with promises of titles and nobility to anyone who would make the explorations. Most people, no matter what their social status, were happy and excited to volunteer for a part in the expeditions.”
“Royalty? What sort of title would be given to farmers?” Brent questioned.
“That of Hidalgo — a term coined from higo de algo – which really only means son of something. I’ve heard it said ‘an hidalgo is a man who hasn’t eaten for three days, but appears on the street chewing on a toothpick, as if he’d just finished a banquet. The Hidalgo had pride, even if his pantry was bare. Appearances were everything.[3] “
Papá Baca laughed, then continued. “Our grandparents sailed to New Spain on some of the earliest ships bringing colonists. They settled in colonies around Mexico City and raised their families on land of their own. Their families in Spain considered them almost as royalty.
"Early explorers, including a grandfather Cabeza de Vaca, endured shipwreck and many years of enslavement by some of the Indian tribes far to the south of here. Later they explored the area, returning to Spain with great stories -- some true and some enhanced and exaggerated. They awed their families with claims that in this land there was gold and silver for anyone who would make the trip.
An Indian guide, El Turco, led Cornado’s party into the wilderness with promises of leading them to the hidden golden City of Quivira. When it turned out to be no more than a poverty stricken Indian village, Coronado tortured a confession out of El Turco that he had planned to lead them into the desert and leave them to die of hunger and thirst to avenge some past wrongs to his people. He was strangled as punishment.[4]"
The children listened in awe. Each was calculating the impact such struggles would have on their own lives, imagining the adventures and hardships.
"I can understand that!” Brent and Antonio stated together.
“I would want my family to have a better life if I could offer it to them."
"At the same time, the Pueblo people were fighting drought and warring Plains tribes and facing a decline in their population. They had moved in and out of their pueblos for generations due to droughts and the aggressiveness of the Plains Tribes that fought them and stole from them. The Pueblos lived for centuries as farmers, peacefully raising crops, securing their families by saving up to three years of food supplies at a time. They hunted and fished and traded with other tribes for the necessities, but mostly they kept to themselves, living off the land, hunting and gathering since the beginning of man.
"That's how I want to live,” Antonio announced enthusiastically. ”[5]and Juan can come live with me in a new wilderness."
"Why did the new colonists have a problem with leaving the Indians alone to continue living the way they wanted?" Lynae asked thoughtfully, interrupting the boys’ fantasy.
"Everything the Pueblo tribes did seem to have been a religious ritual. Their gods were the mountains and plants, the animals, even the sun, moon and stars in the sky. The entire social and political activities of those people revolved around their religious rites. Even art in their baskets and pottery told the stories of their gods.”[6]
"And is there a problem with that?” Brent questioned, recalling the beautiful Native American pottery, paintings and rugs that had been displayed in Villa de Guadalupe, where they had visited with Auntie Lola, in Gallup.
"When these activities were reported to the King and Queen of Spain, the Church authorities decided that it was important to teach all the natives of the New World about the true God and about Christianity, so they would all be saved.” Cristóval harrumphed, obviously not in agreement.
“I'm sure the original plan was a good one,” Doña Ana defended, “and the men who thought it was important were really interested in saving the souls of these natives who they considered heathen. But I think something went terribly wrong when the soldiers and the colonists, and yes, I’m sorry to say, even some friars, became aware of the wealth of the Incas in Mexico.”
“In the name of saving the heathens they destroyed entire tribes of Incas and destroyed ancient civilizations along with all the religious and cultural relics that were within those areas.” Cristóval argued. “Lust for gold and wealth overpowered the initial spiritual objectives, and it seems that everyone involved
in those early expeditions had nothing more on their mind than conquering the Indians to steal their gold."
“So religion became an excuse to conquer," Brent restated, beginning to sound as angry as his ancient ancestor.
"...and saving souls became an excuse to persecute and enslave the Indians." Lynae finished his thought, as she began to follow Isabel’s example of clearing the pottery plates and bowls from the wooden table.
"How much was lost of ancient cultures when the conquistadores made their claims and purged the many villages, no one will ever know." Isabel added solemnly.
"Your people, Juan, lived further north, here among the deserts and mountains near that new city of Santa Fé, and along the Río Grande. The stories of gold and the legends of the golden cities drew explorers further north into their country. Some of the Plains Indians became guides to the explorers like Cortez and Cabeza de Vaca. To make their employers happy, the guides told them the legends they knew of the ancient cities of gold, but they told them as if those cities still existed in this very area."
"I’ve never seen any gold houses around here," Antonio emphasized sounding like he had explored every town in the province of New Mexico.
"As the explorers moved northward they found no gold or silver cities. They were disappointed at the poverty and the mud houses they found instead of the golden palaces they expected."
"But with the explorers came many men of faith; many of the friars truly had the souls of their Indian brothers in mind. As they marched northward and met with the Indians, they taught them about God and about Jesus Christ," defended doña Ana.
"Among many of the Indian tribes ancient legends were passed down over thousands of years. The Legends were about a white God who had come as a man to the ancient tribes, teaching them a way of peace and a new way to live. He promised to return one day in the future.”
“¡I’ve heard some stories like that!” Brent exclaimed. “The Spanish conquistadores that came with Cortez seemed to have come from the sky, and they appeared much as the legend described the white god, bearded and fair skinned.”
“Yes, and believing that the bearded white-god had returned as promised anciently, they submitted willingly to the newcomers, and to learn the ways of Christianity. “ Lynae remembered Mom telling them about that when they were driving.
“The daughter of one of the last kings told the story to the conquerors -- she became the wife of one of them, and the blood-lines, as well as the cultures of the Indians and Spaniards became forever blended.[7]” Brent contributed quoting Mom’s story.
“After that first inter-racial marriage was accepted, most of the soldiers took wives from among the Indians. Or they married the Indian mothers of their children already born." The conversation began to sound like the ones in their family when Uncle Glenn and Mom started talking about modern day politics. Lynae and Brent listened intrigued by their surroundings, their ancestors, and the subject.
"Many of the friars were good hearted men who truly wanted to save the souls of all men by teaching them and bringing them to believe in Jesus Christ.” It was back in doña Ana’s court.
“But soldiers and colonists wanting gold, wealth, and lands got mixed with the spiritual goals of the church. While the men of God were trying to give spiritual wealth to the natives, others were taking all the worldly wealth they could get a hold of, including the wives and children, their food, animals, and any precious metals or jewels that they might find among them,” Cristóbal summarized.
Then he added his thoughts in order to answer the original starting point of the family dinner conversation.
"Then Oñate was granted the contract from Spain to lead a wagon train of soldiers and settlers north into province of New Mexico. Your mother and I decided this would be our chance to obtain land of our own to pass on to our children and grandchildren as an inheritance – our legacy. We chose to leave our comfortable homes in Mexico City to be a part of these new settlements. We heard these stories of wealth and abundant fertile land. We were promised we would be able to have all the Indians we needed to help build this new land. We didn't think of the Indians as slaves, and we have tried to treat them all well. In many cases, they are better off working our estancia than they were in the Pueblos where they had to fight off the Plains Indians, droughts and wild animals, “Cristóbal rationalized. “The friars give them the spiritual gifts that will save their souls and allow them to live in heaven when they die," he added less confidently, looking in his wife’s direction.
Brent thought that Cristóbal was trying more to convince himself and his family than anyone else.
"And Juan," doña Ana said, laying her hand on the boy’s shoulder, "you have been our son. We love you and treat you as one of our family. We love you as if you were our own son."
"The world has changed greatly in our generation and will continue to change, but this much will not change. We will always love and honor you as a part of our family, just as we do Ana whom we brought with us when we came from Mexico City,"
Papá agreed.
Later when the children were asleep and the house was quiet, Lynae and Isabel heard Doña Ana ask her husband, "Cristóbal, will the Indians really ever forget who they are and become Christians? Or are we in danger of them rebelling against us as they did in the early days?"
Cristóbal didn't answer immediately, but then he said the words that were meant to comfort his wife, as much as himself. "The natives have been subdued by the soldiers. They have been converted to Christianity by the friars. The world is changing, my Ana. It is our world. We will live together as brothers in peace under Christ." Doña Ana shifted the sleeping baby, Alonso, into his cradle and returned to the comfort of the bed.
“Válgame Diós.” Isabel sighed. Lying nearby, wrapped in a brightly colored woven blanket, Lynae heard Isabel’s whispered prayer. "Bless me my God; let me live to be a mother and a grandmother to many generations." Lynae remembered hearing her grandmother Lucy whisper that same prayer, "Válgame Diós, she echoed silently." Isabel and her mother slept calmly that night believing the words of Cristóbal Baca.
Cristóbal lay awake into the night after all his family members were asleep. He was not so certain of what he had told his wife. He had been with Oñate and the soldiers when they killed so many Indian families. Soldiers had forced the natives to submit to the Church conversions. He had known some of the men who had attacked the Acoma villages on the excuse of punishing the tribe for crimes committed against the band of soldiers. He remembered with a shudder the screams and curses of hundreds of Indian men, women, and children slaughtered by Oñate’s orders. Though Oñate returned to New Spain with no gold or wealth, was tried and convicted for his crimes, too many more men like Oñate, with the thirst for blood and the lust for gold made Cristóbal unsure that the Spaniards would ever become one people under one God with the native people. Too many things had gone wrong, and too many lives had been taken in the name of religion to leave him feeling like a spiritual brother or leader to any people. Perhaps it was truly blessing from God that the King of Spain had given up on finding wealth in this new world and it had become only a security area for the protection of the over two thousand Indian converts who could never go back to their old ways. They could not even survive if abandoned by the Spaniards[8]. Very possibly, he thought, it was a blessing that no gold or silver had been found in the territory. That very fault might possibly save the land for the more important inheritance that Cristóbal wished to pass on to his heirs.
*Papá Baca
*Papá Baca
*Papá Baca
The names and detailed descriptions and anecdotal tid bits of individuals can be found in Origins of New Mexico Families by Fry Angelco Chavez where they are listed alphabetically for easy reference. A change of font indicates a direct quote from the source and a footnote at the beginning of the chapter identifies the source(s).
[2] Columbia the Gem of the Ocean, author
[3] Coronado p 104
[4] Santa Fe Trail p 12 many details of the trails and scenery are taken from this book.
[5] New Mexico pp. 23-27, 92-94 History p. 12-14 many details in the following chapters about the people, places and culture are from these two books. Change of font indicates direct quotations or close paraphrasing.
[6] New Mexico p. 26
[7] James Mitchner Mexico, and oral tradition
[8] New Mexico pp. 34
Brent and Lynae were bored. It was a long Labor Day weekend with no school. Their dad was working, and Gina, their stepmother, was away for the morning practicing with the choir for an upcoming regional conference. It was storming and the rain and thunder made Lynae shudder, even though the August weather in Las Vegas was still warm. Lightning flashing nearby caused her to dive onto the bed, pulling a pillow over her head with a shriek. She pulled the Indian blanket from the top of her bed and wrapped it around her shoulders.
"It makes me mad when we don't get to go with Mom for the long weekends. I liked it better when we lived close enough to Mom to visit two weekends a month,” Brent pouted ignoring his sister’s scream.
"I wish it could be summer vacation all the time so we could stay with Mom and go on adventures all year round," agreed twelve-year-old Lynae moving the pillow from her face.
"Let’s imagine an adventure with Mom. We can look through the family history books and Mom’s genealogy books and imagine that we are able to travel through time and meet with our ancestors. I’m glad she wanted us to keep her wooden chest for here while she is traveling. We can learn a lot of things about our ancestors from this stuff.”
“We already learned a bunch, stopping at every museum and historical marker in New Mexico.[1]"
"Can you imagine really meeting up with some old Spaniard and discovering he was our great-great-grandfather?" I can't even speak Spanish very well, how would we talk to them?" Brent brushed and polished the new western boots he had purchased at the leather shop on the Mexican side of the river in El Paso. The ornate designs carved into the thick leather intrigued him.
"We could wear universal translators like in Star Trek®," Lynae said, pinning on rose shaped pin she found in the chest. "Here you pin this one on, it looks like a feather pen and scroll."
"I think these pins were Mom's when she was our age. We better be sure to put them back into the display case when we are finished. They might be valuable -- at least as heirlooms." Brent stated pragmatically. “She sure didn’t want to leave the chest in a storage garage.”
As they pinned the pins onto their Colorful New Mexico T-shirts lightening blasted, illuminating the entire room, and causing the electricity to fail. The walls of the small apartment seemed to dissolve, and before them appeared the mountainous area of northern New Mexico they remembered driving through the past summer to visit their Grandma Lucy.
"Where are we? This doesn’t look like our apartment! What’s happening Brent?”
"More to the point, WHEN are we? It doesn’t even look like our century! Look at the houses and roads.”
“Look over there," Lynae followed the line of his pointing finger without, interrupting her flow of questions. "There’s two boys about our age. Let’s ask them."
Maybe they know where and when we are," Brent said hopefully, always the one to immediately want more fact and information.
As they walked closer they heard the boys talking:
"I am afraid for us, Antonio." The young Indian boy was drawing with his stick in the red dirt of the estancia outside of Santa Fe. "We have grown up together almost as brothers, but one day, we may have to fight each other as enemies."
"Why would you want to fight me?" Antonio Baca asked his young friend. We have lived together and worked together. I can't remember the time before you and I were together. My father has been your father and my mother, your mother.”
"That is all true," Juan admitted. "But when I speak with other people of my pueblo they remind me that we were taken from our real parents by your people. Taken away by the friars and soldiers that came into our pueblos forcing our parents to accept your gods and your commandments. We were taken from our homes and made to learn the catechism and our parents that would not do these things -- that would not bow down to your god -- they were killed. My people say that someday we shall be a strong people again, and then we will rise up against the Spaniards. We will take back our land and our homes, and we will live again as the Pueblo People did for centuries before your people came and conquered our lands. They say that is something we must not forget -- ever."
"That's foolish talk, Juan," Antonio shouted at his friend and foster brother. "Your people, my people! You don't even remember the Pueblos. You don't even remember how to speak the language of your fathers. You are as much a Catholic and a Spaniard as I am.
“How can you talk about fighting your own people -- we are your people, my family is your family. You are a Spaniard as much as I am."
"No, Antonio, I am of the Pueblos. Your people have changed my language and my gods and even my name. But they cannot change my heart and my skin. I was just a small child when I was taken to live with your family. I didn't even have a Pueblo name, but I know it would not have been Juan. What kind of name is Juan, anyway? It has no meaning. It is not the name of a Pueblo man!"
"You know as well as I do from our catechism, it is the name of Juan Bautisto, John the Baptist, who baptized our Lord Jesus Christ in the River Jordan in Jerusalem -- over 1600 years ago. Having his name is a great honor. Juan is also the name of the apostle that loved our Lord, and took care of Mary. ¿Why are you talking so crazy, my brother. What has gotten into you?"
Brent and Lynae looked at each other in astonishment. “Sixteen hundred years ago -- Jesus -- baptized.” Lynae stammered.
“That means we are four hundred years ago -- sometime around 1600.” Brent interpreted.
But before either Lynae or Juan could answer, Antonio’s sisters Isabel and Juana came into view from behind a barn like building. They motioned for the boys to return to the house for dinner.
"Bring your two friends along. There is plenty for everyone."
Brent passed a startled look to Lynae as they realized they had been invited to dinner at their ancestors’ table. They turned and followed the boys into the house, immediately noticing the change of temperature and the wonderful odor of cooking from the kitchen. Antonio’s mom was dressed in a simple straight dress of gamuza, made from buckskin, much like the neighboring Indian women dressed. Her long hair was pulled back and held at the nape of her neck with a decorated raw hide tie, then braided down the middle of her back to her waist. The Spanish men and women had put away their fine silks and laces for the more practical dress of the frontier. Cristóbal Baca wore chamois, and the boys were dressed in buckskin pants and shirts.
"Papá," Antonio ventured during the evening meal at the adobe house his father had built with the help of the Indian servants. "I can still remember coming here on the wagon train from Mexico City. I was very small, but I remember the long days of walking along beside the wagons and the soldiers with us. I can remember when we built our house, and I remember many things about those years when I was a small child. But I don't remember when or why Juan came to live with us here. He is like a brother to me, but he says he is just a slave like those who work with you in the fields and with the animals."
Cristóbal Baca looked at his growing son; he reminded him much of himself at that awkward age, no longer a boy, but not yet a man. The older Baca was well past forty now, dark complexioned and considered to be well featured by those who described him. Both he and his wife, Doña Ana Ortíz, had been born in Mexico City.
He gazed at the blond, fair skinned, visitor at his table, who so much resembled his own mother and grandmother of his youthful memories. Considering Antonio’s question he thought of his childhood, and remembered that often he had wondered where the country of Spain was, the country his parents had come from. He had never been able to imagine what it would be like to cross the ocean to a foreign land. Mexico City was the only home Ana had every known. What had compelled him to take his wife and three daughters and his young son to travel thousands of miles to help settle a barren wilderness? What had compelled their parents to cross the great ocean and leave their homeland in Spain, to move to a new world? He passed a meaningful glance at his wife, and chose his words carefully. The children listened silently with anticipation.
"My sons -- for Juan, I consider you my son as much as I do Antonio. Many changes are taking place in the world in your short lifetimes -- many changes for our people and for our world. Not even eighty years before I was born, explorers began traveling about the world. Until that time I have heard it said that most people thought the world was flat, thinking that Spain and the countries around Spain were all there was to the entire world. Personally, I don’t believe many thought the world was flat, that was more a myth among those who never went to sea.
“But when Queen Isabela agreed to provide ships and sailors to Cristóbal Colón Christopher Columbus) so he could follow the stories of men like Amerigus Vespucci and others who claimed the world was round -- that they could sail around the world to find trade routes to China, our world began to change very rapidly. When Columbus sailed into this New World, he reported that he had found India; he took back samples of gold and silver and even native people he found here. I understand that Amerigus Vespucci claimed that it was he who had discovered the new continent. The mapmakers of the day began labeling the new maps of this land as Amerigus' land. It soon began to be called by that name so that the whole continent was referred to as the Americas.
"I wondered about that," Lynae said thoughtfully, entering the conversation while serving the men and boys at the table. “You'd think we would call it Columbia, like in the song, 'Colombia the gem of the ocean.'[2] Lynae broke into a line of song vibrantly. Brent hushed her with a glance that she knew so well meant she was embarrassing him.
"They thought they had found India," Brent recognized the story every child learned in school and interrupted excitedly. "People began calling the natives Indians, and soon all the natives of this new land were referred to as Indians.”
“That’s right,” Papá Baca smiled, “even though there were hundreds of tribes with distinct languages, social and cultural patterns that made them very different from one another. Within a short time after Columbus reported his discoveries, more expeditions set out to find gold and silver and jewels. The stories heard in Spain told of whole cities that were plated with gold, with streets of gold and men who wore ornaments of pure gold and diamonds and silver and other riches.”
“I still hear stories from my people that such cities once did exist among their ancestors." Juan added.
Brent couldn't contain his curiosity and asked, "But what would make people leave their homes and cross an ocean to an unknown land with their families? I can't even imagine! Going to church and starting a new school in a new city is scaring me plenty."
Cristóbal explained, "In Spain at that time the wealthy landowners passed their wealth along to only the oldest of their sons -- leaving the other children with nothing to look forward to. Becoming a soldier or a member of a church order as a teacher or friar or monk was all there was, even if they had choices.
The daughters were fortunate if they were married off to a landowner, but most were not. Lynae and Isabel, by your age, you might have been promised to an older man with a family who had lost his wife, mostly to care for the house and children, or be sent to become nuns in a monastery, just to be sure you were taken care of. Brent, there wouldn't be much for you except to join the military or become a friar."
"I like the military. I would have gone into the Air Force." Brent said proudly, missing the questioning looks that passed his way from the rest of the family. It was Lynae's turn to shush Brent.
"Well,” Papá Baca continued, "there was a great deal of poverty and hardship. When the stories began to circulate of wealth and land with promises of titles and nobility to anyone who would make the explorations. Most people, no matter what their social status, were happy and excited to volunteer for a part in the expeditions.”
“Royalty? What sort of title would be given to farmers?” Brent questioned.
“That of Hidalgo — a term coined from higo de algo – which really only means son of something. I’ve heard it said ‘an hidalgo is a man who hasn’t eaten for three days, but appears on the street chewing on a toothpick, as if he’d just finished a banquet. The Hidalgo had pride, even if his pantry was bare. Appearances were everything.[3] “
Papá Baca laughed, then continued. “Our grandparents sailed to New Spain on some of the earliest ships bringing colonists. They settled in colonies around Mexico City and raised their families on land of their own. Their families in Spain considered them almost as royalty.
"Early explorers, including a grandfather Cabeza de Vaca, endured shipwreck and many years of enslavement by some of the Indian tribes far to the south of here. Later they explored the area, returning to Spain with great stories -- some true and some enhanced and exaggerated. They awed their families with claims that in this land there was gold and silver for anyone who would make the trip.
An Indian guide, El Turco, led Cornado’s party into the wilderness with promises of leading them to the hidden golden City of Quivira. When it turned out to be no more than a poverty stricken Indian village, Coronado tortured a confession out of El Turco that he had planned to lead them into the desert and leave them to die of hunger and thirst to avenge some past wrongs to his people. He was strangled as punishment.[4]"
The children listened in awe. Each was calculating the impact such struggles would have on their own lives, imagining the adventures and hardships.
"I can understand that!” Brent and Antonio stated together.
“I would want my family to have a better life if I could offer it to them."
"At the same time, the Pueblo people were fighting drought and warring Plains tribes and facing a decline in their population. They had moved in and out of their pueblos for generations due to droughts and the aggressiveness of the Plains Tribes that fought them and stole from them. The Pueblos lived for centuries as farmers, peacefully raising crops, securing their families by saving up to three years of food supplies at a time. They hunted and fished and traded with other tribes for the necessities, but mostly they kept to themselves, living off the land, hunting and gathering since the beginning of man.
"That's how I want to live,” Antonio announced enthusiastically. ”[5]and Juan can come live with me in a new wilderness."
"Why did the new colonists have a problem with leaving the Indians alone to continue living the way they wanted?" Lynae asked thoughtfully, interrupting the boys’ fantasy.
"Everything the Pueblo tribes did seem to have been a religious ritual. Their gods were the mountains and plants, the animals, even the sun, moon and stars in the sky. The entire social and political activities of those people revolved around their religious rites. Even art in their baskets and pottery told the stories of their gods.”[6]
"And is there a problem with that?” Brent questioned, recalling the beautiful Native American pottery, paintings and rugs that had been displayed in Villa de Guadalupe, where they had visited with Auntie Lola, in Gallup.
"When these activities were reported to the King and Queen of Spain, the Church authorities decided that it was important to teach all the natives of the New World about the true God and about Christianity, so they would all be saved.” Cristóval harrumphed, obviously not in agreement.
“I'm sure the original plan was a good one,” Doña Ana defended, “and the men who thought it was important were really interested in saving the souls of these natives who they considered heathen. But I think something went terribly wrong when the soldiers and the colonists, and yes, I’m sorry to say, even some friars, became aware of the wealth of the Incas in Mexico.”
“In the name of saving the heathens they destroyed entire tribes of Incas and destroyed ancient civilizations along with all the religious and cultural relics that were within those areas.” Cristóval argued. “Lust for gold and wealth overpowered the initial spiritual objectives, and it seems that everyone involved
in those early expeditions had nothing more on their mind than conquering the Indians to steal their gold."
“So religion became an excuse to conquer," Brent restated, beginning to sound as angry as his ancient ancestor.
"...and saving souls became an excuse to persecute and enslave the Indians." Lynae finished his thought, as she began to follow Isabel’s example of clearing the pottery plates and bowls from the wooden table.
"How much was lost of ancient cultures when the conquistadores made their claims and purged the many villages, no one will ever know." Isabel added solemnly.
"Your people, Juan, lived further north, here among the deserts and mountains near that new city of Santa Fé, and along the Río Grande. The stories of gold and the legends of the golden cities drew explorers further north into their country. Some of the Plains Indians became guides to the explorers like Cortez and Cabeza de Vaca. To make their employers happy, the guides told them the legends they knew of the ancient cities of gold, but they told them as if those cities still existed in this very area."
"I’ve never seen any gold houses around here," Antonio emphasized sounding like he had explored every town in the province of New Mexico.
"As the explorers moved northward they found no gold or silver cities. They were disappointed at the poverty and the mud houses they found instead of the golden palaces they expected."
"But with the explorers came many men of faith; many of the friars truly had the souls of their Indian brothers in mind. As they marched northward and met with the Indians, they taught them about God and about Jesus Christ," defended doña Ana.
"Among many of the Indian tribes ancient legends were passed down over thousands of years. The Legends were about a white God who had come as a man to the ancient tribes, teaching them a way of peace and a new way to live. He promised to return one day in the future.”
“¡I’ve heard some stories like that!” Brent exclaimed. “The Spanish conquistadores that came with Cortez seemed to have come from the sky, and they appeared much as the legend described the white god, bearded and fair skinned.”
“Yes, and believing that the bearded white-god had returned as promised anciently, they submitted willingly to the newcomers, and to learn the ways of Christianity. “ Lynae remembered Mom telling them about that when they were driving.
“The daughter of one of the last kings told the story to the conquerors -- she became the wife of one of them, and the blood-lines, as well as the cultures of the Indians and Spaniards became forever blended.[7]” Brent contributed quoting Mom’s story.
“After that first inter-racial marriage was accepted, most of the soldiers took wives from among the Indians. Or they married the Indian mothers of their children already born." The conversation began to sound like the ones in their family when Uncle Glenn and Mom started talking about modern day politics. Lynae and Brent listened intrigued by their surroundings, their ancestors, and the subject.
"Many of the friars were good hearted men who truly wanted to save the souls of all men by teaching them and bringing them to believe in Jesus Christ.” It was back in doña Ana’s court.
“But soldiers and colonists wanting gold, wealth, and lands got mixed with the spiritual goals of the church. While the men of God were trying to give spiritual wealth to the natives, others were taking all the worldly wealth they could get a hold of, including the wives and children, their food, animals, and any precious metals or jewels that they might find among them,” Cristóbal summarized.
Then he added his thoughts in order to answer the original starting point of the family dinner conversation.
"Then Oñate was granted the contract from Spain to lead a wagon train of soldiers and settlers north into province of New Mexico. Your mother and I decided this would be our chance to obtain land of our own to pass on to our children and grandchildren as an inheritance – our legacy. We chose to leave our comfortable homes in Mexico City to be a part of these new settlements. We heard these stories of wealth and abundant fertile land. We were promised we would be able to have all the Indians we needed to help build this new land. We didn't think of the Indians as slaves, and we have tried to treat them all well. In many cases, they are better off working our estancia than they were in the Pueblos where they had to fight off the Plains Indians, droughts and wild animals, “Cristóbal rationalized. “The friars give them the spiritual gifts that will save their souls and allow them to live in heaven when they die," he added less confidently, looking in his wife’s direction.
Brent thought that Cristóbal was trying more to convince himself and his family than anyone else.
"And Juan," doña Ana said, laying her hand on the boy’s shoulder, "you have been our son. We love you and treat you as one of our family. We love you as if you were our own son."
"The world has changed greatly in our generation and will continue to change, but this much will not change. We will always love and honor you as a part of our family, just as we do Ana whom we brought with us when we came from Mexico City,"
Papá agreed.
Later when the children were asleep and the house was quiet, Lynae and Isabel heard Doña Ana ask her husband, "Cristóbal, will the Indians really ever forget who they are and become Christians? Or are we in danger of them rebelling against us as they did in the early days?"
Cristóbal didn't answer immediately, but then he said the words that were meant to comfort his wife, as much as himself. "The natives have been subdued by the soldiers. They have been converted to Christianity by the friars. The world is changing, my Ana. It is our world. We will live together as brothers in peace under Christ." Doña Ana shifted the sleeping baby, Alonso, into his cradle and returned to the comfort of the bed.
“Válgame Diós.” Isabel sighed. Lying nearby, wrapped in a brightly colored woven blanket, Lynae heard Isabel’s whispered prayer. "Bless me my God; let me live to be a mother and a grandmother to many generations." Lynae remembered hearing her grandmother Lucy whisper that same prayer, "Válgame Diós, she echoed silently." Isabel and her mother slept calmly that night believing the words of Cristóbal Baca.
Cristóbal lay awake into the night after all his family members were asleep. He was not so certain of what he had told his wife. He had been with Oñate and the soldiers when they killed so many Indian families. Soldiers had forced the natives to submit to the Church conversions. He had known some of the men who had attacked the Acoma villages on the excuse of punishing the tribe for crimes committed against the band of soldiers. He remembered with a shudder the screams and curses of hundreds of Indian men, women, and children slaughtered by Oñate’s orders. Though Oñate returned to New Spain with no gold or wealth, was tried and convicted for his crimes, too many more men like Oñate, with the thirst for blood and the lust for gold made Cristóbal unsure that the Spaniards would ever become one people under one God with the native people. Too many things had gone wrong, and too many lives had been taken in the name of religion to leave him feeling like a spiritual brother or leader to any people. Perhaps it was truly blessing from God that the King of Spain had given up on finding wealth in this new world and it had become only a security area for the protection of the over two thousand Indian converts who could never go back to their old ways. They could not even survive if abandoned by the Spaniards[8]. Very possibly, he thought, it was a blessing that no gold or silver had been found in the territory. That very fault might possibly save the land for the more important inheritance that Cristóbal wished to pass on to his heirs.
*Papá Baca
*Papá Baca
*Papá Baca
The names and detailed descriptions and anecdotal tid bits of individuals can be found in Origins of New Mexico Families by Fry Angelco Chavez where they are listed alphabetically for easy reference. A change of font indicates a direct quote from the source and a footnote at the beginning of the chapter identifies the source(s).
[2] Columbia the Gem of the Ocean, author
[3] Coronado p 104
[4] Santa Fe Trail p 12 many details of the trails and scenery are taken from this book.
[5] New Mexico pp. 23-27, 92-94 History p. 12-14 many details in the following chapters about the people, places and culture are from these two books. Change of font indicates direct quotations or close paraphrasing.
[6] New Mexico p. 26
[7] James Mitchner Mexico, and oral tradition
[8] New Mexico pp. 34
Acapulco to Santa Fé
"Lynae, Lynae!" Brent ran up the stairs to the small Las Vegas apartment. "Look what Mom sent me in the mail!"
"What is it? Brent." Lynae grabbed at the small package Brent clutched in his hands.
"It must be the special coin she said she found at the swap meet she visited. She wouldn't tell me on the phone when or where it was from, but she said we'd really like it."
"Maybe we can take it to the Coin Club at school Tuesday. Too bad it’s a weekend and there’s no one to show it off to."
Brent grabbed the package back from Lynae with a shove that sent her lunging in through the door of the apartment. "Good, Grief! She must have used steel strapping tape. I can't get it opened. Get me a knife or scissors, Lynae."
"No! You shoved me away. Open it yourself. I don't care what’s in it."
"Well, Gina isn't home to cry to, so keep it to yourself. I'm going in my room to open this. Come in if you like."
Realizing there was no one to feel sorry for her if she cried; Lynae immediately altered her posture and followed Brent into his room with a pair of scissors from the kitchen drawer. "Open it with this!" Lynae handed over the scissors as a sort of peace offering.
Out fell a wad of bubble wrap in which a clear plastic audiocassette case stuffed with cotton and blue velvet was safely packed. In the very center, pushing against the clear plastic was a shiny silver coin dated 1610, Acapulco, Mexico.
“This is the first coin minted in Mexico -- the first mint in the New world!"[1] Brent whooped racing for his book on Mexico Coins from his summer numismatist conference in Denver.
Both children made a grab for the box as it fell to the floor under Brent's bed. As they struggled with each other scrambling after the coin, the floor opened up, and the children plunged headlong through history and time -- into a bustling Spanish town where mariachi bands paraded blaring through the streets. From this hillside where they landed, they saw what looked like rows of rabbit hutches, but as they walked closer, they recognized the clusters of flat roof adobe homes, whitewashed to a sparkling brightness under the bright blue New Mexico sky. In Las Vegas time it had been nearly a year since they visited this time and place, but several years had passed in Santa Fe.
Banners written in Spanish announced the celebration of the founding of Santa Fé, the new capital city of the Province of New Mexico. Governor Peralta was mounting the grandstand to give a speech along with other soldiers. Friars dressed in their long black robes, wearing huge rosaries and crucifixes around their necks surrounded the grandstand.
Lynae’ grasped Brent’s elbow as they approached the crowded streets. “Look at the ladies -- their faces are all painted. Maybe they're going to do a stage play. “
Brent looked around amazed at the brightly rouged cheeks of most the señoritas, and even the older abuelas, who walked the streets proudly in their brightly colored dresses and shawls.
Cristóbal Baca’s family was among the few who had remained at San Gabriel when the rest of the colonists deserted the previous year. Cristóbal himself was openly very critical of some friars who led the desertion, and was making that point to anyone who would listen. But he and Doña Ana, along with their children, Antonio, Juana, Isabela, Juan, Ana and baby Alonso were in the crowd. Lynae recognized them and beckoned to Brent. The two ran to be with their friends and family. Doña Ana Ortíz Baca, was dressed in a beautiful silk dress, trimmed with delicate white lace and gold piping. Her hair was pulled back, but not braided, and held in place by tortoise shell combs. The shawl over her head was just as ornate and beautiful, with fringes around the sides, embroidered with bright designs. Her tiny bright rose colored slippers matched perfectly the rose tones in her dress and shawl.[2]
The band stopped and the crowd cheered as Governor Peralta took his place at the speakers’ stand. Sweeping the huge embroidered sombrero from his head, he bowed and greeted the crowd. Cheers and greetings echoed through the streets. He began to recite a history of the province of New Mexico.
As Cristóval had previously described at the dinner table, the Royal family and their advisors had decided that New Mexico was not a land with great mineral wealth or significant agricultural potential so Spanish royalty had pretty much lost interest. Brent learned that during the years between 1609 and 1680, most the Spanish efforts in the area were made only to keep a hold on the land. Spain felt obligated to protect those converted natives living along the Río Grande.[3] This had become the main purpose of the missions. In his Mexico Coin workshop class he had also heard that maintenance of the missions probably cost Madrid more than one million pesos, which he had calculated was a very lot of money for that period of time.
New Mexico also was an expense to Spain because of the cost of the civil and military installations. As Brent mentally figured the amount of money dedicated to this colony so far away from Spain, he began to have an idea of the Spanish interest in religious movement during that colonial period.
Cristóval had explained to them that some in Spain considered New Mexico a "White Elephant.”[4] It was his understanding that Spain's interest in New Mexico was motivated mainly by the desire to have a Spanish force in the area to keep an active claim to that huge empty country to the North.
Early in the explorations, Spain and Portugal struck a deal to honor the Pope's decision regarding which lands each country could explore and claim. The Pope drew a line on the map from north to south dividing the New World into two parts. New discoveries resulted in maps being revised. The two countries agreed to move the line further west, leaving what then became the country of Brazil under Portuguese control, with the rest of South America belonged to Spain.
But other countries didn’t honor the Pope’s declaration since they had not agreed to any such arrangement. They now made claims to parts of the New World. France, England and even the Netherlands challenged Spain's exclusive control of the western world, so keeping control of the land appeared to be the motivation for supporting the missions.[5]
Governor Peralta continued his long speech about the history of the province. Lynae concentrated on his fancy velvet suit. The high fluted collar and lace cuffs would have looked feminine in her own century, but here, most of the men were similarly dressed for the occasion from their sateen caps to the expensive high top boots with beautifully designed carved leather,
"Like we didn't all know the history of Oñate’s troops and the wagon trains," Lynae whispered to Brent, returning from her little trance.
"Just listen, you might learn something new, or at understand more of what we found out our last trip to this time and place." Brent slapped at Lynae’s hand. “Besides, these people haven’t had the experience of visiting the museums and historical sights -- they live the adventures.”
"In 1604,” the governor continued: “Oñate chose to explore the region west of the Río Grande. As he traveled he watched for signs of silver and gold and precious stones he hoped would help his reputation with the the King. Oñate moved the center of government from San Gabriel in order to concentrate all the white population in the new town of Santa Fé, where he calculated there would be enough military force to protect all the colonists.
“Look!” Brent and Lynae had wandered toward the back of the crowd, being more interested in looking around than in listening to any more historical facts. Brent stared and pointed, “that’s don Pedro (Gomez) Durán y Cháves. Don’t even ask me how I know, but that's where the coin came from! Lynae, ask him if he is from Acapulco." Lynae looked incredulously at her brother’s order. Brent was beginning to realize this new talent for understanding the events of the past as they were happening.
"Hey, dummy, remember, you’re the one with one year of Spanish." But as she spoke she realized that even she understood all that was being said around her. Realizing that it was the coin that was acting as translator on this adventure, she strode forth toward the soldier, dressed in the official formal uniform.
“Sargento Pedro Gómez.” She spoke as she approached this son of Hernan Sanches Rico, who had been born in Valverde, in the jurisdiction of the Grand Master of Santiago. Lynae remembered reading that in 1613 he would be sent as a captain to Taos Pueblo to collect the governor's tribute from the natives. "Buenos Días, Señor Sargento," Lynae heard herself speak with a perfect Spanish accent in a strong clear voice, "I was wondering, sir, if you have come recently from the south, at the Port of Acapulco."
"Why yes, my young señorita," the Sergeant stated, flourishing his hat and suppressing a smile and hint of a twinkle in his dark brown eyes. “I was there just this past February, taxing the cargo of a ship that was being fitted for a Philippine voyage. I brought these freshly minted coins from Acapulco,. See the date is still shiny and new, 1610, the year of our Lord. May I give you one?"
"Oh, no sir, we have one already!” Brent emphatically stated, stepping protectively in front of Lynae. Sánches, insulted at such a reaction, strutted toward the reviewing stand, flipping the new silver coin in his hand. He wondered, perhaps, how two young children in New Mexico could have gotten one of the new silver coins.
“Brent you should have taken the coin to take back home!” Lynae shrieked.
“I’m not about to take his money. Who knows what he might think he was paying for?” Brent said unapologetically. “He was flirting with you, and I’m supposed to protect you. I’m your big brother.” Besides, he considered the effects of such an act might cause some sort of time travel paradox.
All the ladies and men were dressed regally for their part in the gala celebration. Embroidered skirts, vests and sombreros saved from the long journey from Mexico City so many years before were in full display. Soon Brent and Lynae recognized the family of Juan López Holguin Alferez son of Juan Lopez Villasana, native of Fuente Ovejuna de Estremadura, who came to New Mexico in 1600. Juan was of good stature; he was bearded, and looked like he was about forty years old.
"It looks like he's been in as many battles as you and Monte. The mark over his left eye matches yours. Maybe he had a brother to fight with when he was little."
Brent ignored Lynae’s comment. “The important ones to know are Isabel, wife of Juan de Vitoria Carvajal and Simón de Abedano who married María Ortíz Baca.
“It is through their marriage that we are descended.” Lynae stated proudly competing in their game of "Who knows the family tree?"
"Wouldn't it be fun to introduce ourselves to these great-grandparents?" Brent speculated. "But what would I say? 'Hi, I am your twenty-first century descendant. I come from four hundred years in the future’." He bounced his head side to side in the popular imitation of a stereotypical dumb blonde.
Further on toward the Governor's stand, Lynae pointed out Juan Pérez de Bustillon, who had come with the Oñate soldiers in 1598. Juan Pérez was small of stature, gray-bearded and had a wart on the left side of his face. He had with him his wife, two sons and seven daughters. One son, Simón, was already a soldier when they came with the wagons. Juan's wife was María de la Cruz. Another son, Diego, and four daughters celebrated with them.
"Well, Lynae trumpeted, at least now we know where you get your warts!"
"And we know where you get your height deficit, squatty-body," Brent countered with a punch at Lynae's shoulder.”
“I thought you said you were supposed to protect me, not beat me up!” Lynae rubbed her shoulder as she walked away from her brother.
"Well, I guess being short and ugly didn't keep him from getting a wife and having children," Lynae, always the romantic, whispered back to Brent when she was well out of reach. He shushed her with a look to say she was being pretty rude.
"Oh, look," Lynae whispered in a romantic tone to Brent, in spite of his look. "There is Yumar, the girl that married cousin Antonio Baca. She is only about my age.” Even at her age she was dressed in silk and her face was rouged with the alegría flower for color. Her tiny hands were stained as well where she had spit on the crushed flower petals and rubbed the resulting dye on her cheeks. “She came from Mexico with her family just recently. Should I introduce myself and tell her she is our great ancestor?”
“I think all our ancestors are great, like Uncle Eliseo said about his nieces and nephews.”
“Funny, Brent. Maybe you should go get Antonio and introduce them. He might like to know who he is going to marry.“
"I think I would like to marry Yumar," Brent reflected, unfortunately speaking out loud, and blushing a little at the thought.
"Ooo, Brent has a girl friend, Brent's in l-o-v-e!" chanted Lynae.
"Oh, quíate, Lynae. She's my great-great-great-grandmother. Can you blame me if I think she is beautiful?"
"Oh, there goes Diego de Vera. He’s the scoundrel left behind a family to go exploring. Look, he's already looking at all the ladies. But he is very handsome," Lynae remarked, puffing up her shoulders in spite of Diego's fine looks, to show her disgust for his bigamy. Look at pretty María de Abendano with her parents, Simón de Abendano and María Ortíz Baca; they are both still alive today, but by January 16,1622, when María marries Diego, both parents will have already died, probably from the influenza? If we had flu shots here and now, a lot of people would have lived to be a lot older. María is the granddaughter of Captain Juan López Holguin. Do you see him there on the reviewing stand?"
"I want to be sure and come back in 1625 to watch the scene as Diego confesses his bigamy to María."
As Lynae made that wish, a sudden whirlwind scattered the dry leaves and pine needles, and time shifted forward. “I hate it when you do that, Lynae. Now cut it out!” Brent hollered above the wind, dusting at his jacket.
Many decedents came through Josefa Baca including Diego de Vaca, antecedents include Cristobal Baca, Papa Baca.
[1]
[2] Coronado’s Land—Daily Life in Colonial New Mexico. Marc Simmons. Details of dress and culture are paraphrased from Simmons’ book in this and other chapters.
[3] New Mexico p. 61, Onate pp 595+.
[4] New Mexico p. 61 (France V. Scholes, "The Supply Service of New Mexico Missions in the Seventeenth Century, S: NMHR , Vo. V. White Elephant refers to the practice in India of giving away a White elephant as a gift because it is revered as holy and can not be sold or killed, but is a great expense to keep.
[5] New Mexico p. 61
"What is it? Brent." Lynae grabbed at the small package Brent clutched in his hands.
"It must be the special coin she said she found at the swap meet she visited. She wouldn't tell me on the phone when or where it was from, but she said we'd really like it."
"Maybe we can take it to the Coin Club at school Tuesday. Too bad it’s a weekend and there’s no one to show it off to."
Brent grabbed the package back from Lynae with a shove that sent her lunging in through the door of the apartment. "Good, Grief! She must have used steel strapping tape. I can't get it opened. Get me a knife or scissors, Lynae."
"No! You shoved me away. Open it yourself. I don't care what’s in it."
"Well, Gina isn't home to cry to, so keep it to yourself. I'm going in my room to open this. Come in if you like."
Realizing there was no one to feel sorry for her if she cried; Lynae immediately altered her posture and followed Brent into his room with a pair of scissors from the kitchen drawer. "Open it with this!" Lynae handed over the scissors as a sort of peace offering.
Out fell a wad of bubble wrap in which a clear plastic audiocassette case stuffed with cotton and blue velvet was safely packed. In the very center, pushing against the clear plastic was a shiny silver coin dated 1610, Acapulco, Mexico.
“This is the first coin minted in Mexico -- the first mint in the New world!"[1] Brent whooped racing for his book on Mexico Coins from his summer numismatist conference in Denver.
Both children made a grab for the box as it fell to the floor under Brent's bed. As they struggled with each other scrambling after the coin, the floor opened up, and the children plunged headlong through history and time -- into a bustling Spanish town where mariachi bands paraded blaring through the streets. From this hillside where they landed, they saw what looked like rows of rabbit hutches, but as they walked closer, they recognized the clusters of flat roof adobe homes, whitewashed to a sparkling brightness under the bright blue New Mexico sky. In Las Vegas time it had been nearly a year since they visited this time and place, but several years had passed in Santa Fe.
Banners written in Spanish announced the celebration of the founding of Santa Fé, the new capital city of the Province of New Mexico. Governor Peralta was mounting the grandstand to give a speech along with other soldiers. Friars dressed in their long black robes, wearing huge rosaries and crucifixes around their necks surrounded the grandstand.
Lynae’ grasped Brent’s elbow as they approached the crowded streets. “Look at the ladies -- their faces are all painted. Maybe they're going to do a stage play. “
Brent looked around amazed at the brightly rouged cheeks of most the señoritas, and even the older abuelas, who walked the streets proudly in their brightly colored dresses and shawls.
Cristóbal Baca’s family was among the few who had remained at San Gabriel when the rest of the colonists deserted the previous year. Cristóbal himself was openly very critical of some friars who led the desertion, and was making that point to anyone who would listen. But he and Doña Ana, along with their children, Antonio, Juana, Isabela, Juan, Ana and baby Alonso were in the crowd. Lynae recognized them and beckoned to Brent. The two ran to be with their friends and family. Doña Ana Ortíz Baca, was dressed in a beautiful silk dress, trimmed with delicate white lace and gold piping. Her hair was pulled back, but not braided, and held in place by tortoise shell combs. The shawl over her head was just as ornate and beautiful, with fringes around the sides, embroidered with bright designs. Her tiny bright rose colored slippers matched perfectly the rose tones in her dress and shawl.[2]
The band stopped and the crowd cheered as Governor Peralta took his place at the speakers’ stand. Sweeping the huge embroidered sombrero from his head, he bowed and greeted the crowd. Cheers and greetings echoed through the streets. He began to recite a history of the province of New Mexico.
As Cristóval had previously described at the dinner table, the Royal family and their advisors had decided that New Mexico was not a land with great mineral wealth or significant agricultural potential so Spanish royalty had pretty much lost interest. Brent learned that during the years between 1609 and 1680, most the Spanish efforts in the area were made only to keep a hold on the land. Spain felt obligated to protect those converted natives living along the Río Grande.[3] This had become the main purpose of the missions. In his Mexico Coin workshop class he had also heard that maintenance of the missions probably cost Madrid more than one million pesos, which he had calculated was a very lot of money for that period of time.
New Mexico also was an expense to Spain because of the cost of the civil and military installations. As Brent mentally figured the amount of money dedicated to this colony so far away from Spain, he began to have an idea of the Spanish interest in religious movement during that colonial period.
Cristóval had explained to them that some in Spain considered New Mexico a "White Elephant.”[4] It was his understanding that Spain's interest in New Mexico was motivated mainly by the desire to have a Spanish force in the area to keep an active claim to that huge empty country to the North.
Early in the explorations, Spain and Portugal struck a deal to honor the Pope's decision regarding which lands each country could explore and claim. The Pope drew a line on the map from north to south dividing the New World into two parts. New discoveries resulted in maps being revised. The two countries agreed to move the line further west, leaving what then became the country of Brazil under Portuguese control, with the rest of South America belonged to Spain.
But other countries didn’t honor the Pope’s declaration since they had not agreed to any such arrangement. They now made claims to parts of the New World. France, England and even the Netherlands challenged Spain's exclusive control of the western world, so keeping control of the land appeared to be the motivation for supporting the missions.[5]
Governor Peralta continued his long speech about the history of the province. Lynae concentrated on his fancy velvet suit. The high fluted collar and lace cuffs would have looked feminine in her own century, but here, most of the men were similarly dressed for the occasion from their sateen caps to the expensive high top boots with beautifully designed carved leather,
"Like we didn't all know the history of Oñate’s troops and the wagon trains," Lynae whispered to Brent, returning from her little trance.
"Just listen, you might learn something new, or at understand more of what we found out our last trip to this time and place." Brent slapped at Lynae’s hand. “Besides, these people haven’t had the experience of visiting the museums and historical sights -- they live the adventures.”
"In 1604,” the governor continued: “Oñate chose to explore the region west of the Río Grande. As he traveled he watched for signs of silver and gold and precious stones he hoped would help his reputation with the the King. Oñate moved the center of government from San Gabriel in order to concentrate all the white population in the new town of Santa Fé, where he calculated there would be enough military force to protect all the colonists.
“Look!” Brent and Lynae had wandered toward the back of the crowd, being more interested in looking around than in listening to any more historical facts. Brent stared and pointed, “that’s don Pedro (Gomez) Durán y Cháves. Don’t even ask me how I know, but that's where the coin came from! Lynae, ask him if he is from Acapulco." Lynae looked incredulously at her brother’s order. Brent was beginning to realize this new talent for understanding the events of the past as they were happening.
"Hey, dummy, remember, you’re the one with one year of Spanish." But as she spoke she realized that even she understood all that was being said around her. Realizing that it was the coin that was acting as translator on this adventure, she strode forth toward the soldier, dressed in the official formal uniform.
“Sargento Pedro Gómez.” She spoke as she approached this son of Hernan Sanches Rico, who had been born in Valverde, in the jurisdiction of the Grand Master of Santiago. Lynae remembered reading that in 1613 he would be sent as a captain to Taos Pueblo to collect the governor's tribute from the natives. "Buenos Días, Señor Sargento," Lynae heard herself speak with a perfect Spanish accent in a strong clear voice, "I was wondering, sir, if you have come recently from the south, at the Port of Acapulco."
"Why yes, my young señorita," the Sergeant stated, flourishing his hat and suppressing a smile and hint of a twinkle in his dark brown eyes. “I was there just this past February, taxing the cargo of a ship that was being fitted for a Philippine voyage. I brought these freshly minted coins from Acapulco,. See the date is still shiny and new, 1610, the year of our Lord. May I give you one?"
"Oh, no sir, we have one already!” Brent emphatically stated, stepping protectively in front of Lynae. Sánches, insulted at such a reaction, strutted toward the reviewing stand, flipping the new silver coin in his hand. He wondered, perhaps, how two young children in New Mexico could have gotten one of the new silver coins.
“Brent you should have taken the coin to take back home!” Lynae shrieked.
“I’m not about to take his money. Who knows what he might think he was paying for?” Brent said unapologetically. “He was flirting with you, and I’m supposed to protect you. I’m your big brother.” Besides, he considered the effects of such an act might cause some sort of time travel paradox.
All the ladies and men were dressed regally for their part in the gala celebration. Embroidered skirts, vests and sombreros saved from the long journey from Mexico City so many years before were in full display. Soon Brent and Lynae recognized the family of Juan López Holguin Alferez son of Juan Lopez Villasana, native of Fuente Ovejuna de Estremadura, who came to New Mexico in 1600. Juan was of good stature; he was bearded, and looked like he was about forty years old.
"It looks like he's been in as many battles as you and Monte. The mark over his left eye matches yours. Maybe he had a brother to fight with when he was little."
Brent ignored Lynae’s comment. “The important ones to know are Isabel, wife of Juan de Vitoria Carvajal and Simón de Abedano who married María Ortíz Baca.
“It is through their marriage that we are descended.” Lynae stated proudly competing in their game of "Who knows the family tree?"
"Wouldn't it be fun to introduce ourselves to these great-grandparents?" Brent speculated. "But what would I say? 'Hi, I am your twenty-first century descendant. I come from four hundred years in the future’." He bounced his head side to side in the popular imitation of a stereotypical dumb blonde.
Further on toward the Governor's stand, Lynae pointed out Juan Pérez de Bustillon, who had come with the Oñate soldiers in 1598. Juan Pérez was small of stature, gray-bearded and had a wart on the left side of his face. He had with him his wife, two sons and seven daughters. One son, Simón, was already a soldier when they came with the wagons. Juan's wife was María de la Cruz. Another son, Diego, and four daughters celebrated with them.
"Well, Lynae trumpeted, at least now we know where you get your warts!"
"And we know where you get your height deficit, squatty-body," Brent countered with a punch at Lynae's shoulder.”
“I thought you said you were supposed to protect me, not beat me up!” Lynae rubbed her shoulder as she walked away from her brother.
"Well, I guess being short and ugly didn't keep him from getting a wife and having children," Lynae, always the romantic, whispered back to Brent when she was well out of reach. He shushed her with a look to say she was being pretty rude.
"Oh, look," Lynae whispered in a romantic tone to Brent, in spite of his look. "There is Yumar, the girl that married cousin Antonio Baca. She is only about my age.” Even at her age she was dressed in silk and her face was rouged with the alegría flower for color. Her tiny hands were stained as well where she had spit on the crushed flower petals and rubbed the resulting dye on her cheeks. “She came from Mexico with her family just recently. Should I introduce myself and tell her she is our great ancestor?”
“I think all our ancestors are great, like Uncle Eliseo said about his nieces and nephews.”
“Funny, Brent. Maybe you should go get Antonio and introduce them. He might like to know who he is going to marry.“
"I think I would like to marry Yumar," Brent reflected, unfortunately speaking out loud, and blushing a little at the thought.
"Ooo, Brent has a girl friend, Brent's in l-o-v-e!" chanted Lynae.
"Oh, quíate, Lynae. She's my great-great-great-grandmother. Can you blame me if I think she is beautiful?"
"Oh, there goes Diego de Vera. He’s the scoundrel left behind a family to go exploring. Look, he's already looking at all the ladies. But he is very handsome," Lynae remarked, puffing up her shoulders in spite of Diego's fine looks, to show her disgust for his bigamy. Look at pretty María de Abendano with her parents, Simón de Abendano and María Ortíz Baca; they are both still alive today, but by January 16,1622, when María marries Diego, both parents will have already died, probably from the influenza? If we had flu shots here and now, a lot of people would have lived to be a lot older. María is the granddaughter of Captain Juan López Holguin. Do you see him there on the reviewing stand?"
"I want to be sure and come back in 1625 to watch the scene as Diego confesses his bigamy to María."
As Lynae made that wish, a sudden whirlwind scattered the dry leaves and pine needles, and time shifted forward. “I hate it when you do that, Lynae. Now cut it out!” Brent hollered above the wind, dusting at his jacket.
Many decedents came through Josefa Baca including Diego de Vaca, antecedents include Cristobal Baca, Papa Baca.
[1]
[2] Coronado’s Land—Daily Life in Colonial New Mexico. Marc Simmons. Details of dress and culture are paraphrased from Simmons’ book in this and other chapters.
[3] New Mexico p. 61, Onate pp 595+.
[4] New Mexico p. 61 (France V. Scholes, "The Supply Service of New Mexico Missions in the Seventeenth Century, S: NMHR , Vo. V. White Elephant refers to the practice in India of giving away a White elephant as a gift because it is revered as holy and can not be sold or killed, but is a great expense to keep.
[5] New Mexico p. 61
Excommunicated and Banished
In 1625, three years after their marriage Diego de Vera paced the floor of the adobe home he and his wife had built during the years in Santa Fe.
"María, my love, come here, I must talk to you," Diego de Vera sounded faraway yet determined. “Do you know the new Friar that has been appointed as head of the church here?"
"Si, cómo no, mi esposo. He is Fray Alonso Benavides, recently from the Canary Islands. He has not only been appointed head of the church here, but is also representing the King on matters of the Inquisition. ¿What is it? my husband, you seem so anxious."
"There is a matter I must confess to the church, but first, I must make a confession and attempt to make amends to you, my dear wife. This is something I planned never to confess or divulge.“ Diego paced the floor in agitation. “I became more firm in my resolve when we had our two daughters.” Taking María in his arms he continued. “I’ve come to love and respect you more as each day passes. But now, with Benavides here, in Santa Fé. He will know. It is better for me to come forward and confess voluntarily than to have him drag me before the pueblo and condemn me publicly." He pushed his wife gently away, looking deep into her eyes, awaiting her response.
"What is it my husband? What mortal sin could you have committed? You are a good and holy man, as good as any I have known here or in Mexico."
"As a layman Benavides was sheriff in the Canary Islands. He knew me there, and he knew my wife in Tenerife in the Canaries.” María listened intently in an attempt to make sense of this new information.
“He will remember me, and know that my wife did not die, but may still even to this day be alive there on the island. She and my children do not know what has become of me. I planned never to return, allowing her to believe I was dead, but now, it will all come out in public. It will be a humiliation to you and the children.”
Diego gently pulled María’s hand from her tear stained face. “I must do what I can to lessen the pain of the disclosure, for your sake. I am sorry that I have lied to you, but more sorry that I have brought you such great pain." María sobbed openly, and pulled Diego toward him as he made an attempt to leave the room.
Diego pulled away from her grasp, then walked slowly through the streets to the church confessional booth where he confessed to Father Benavides his bigamous status.
As penance, Father Benivedes ordered Diego to return to the Canary Islands. Father Benivedes set sail for Spain to report information on New Mexico to the queen in 1626, taking Diego along as far as Mexico. There Benivedes interceded, pleading Diego’s case, testifying that Diego had confessed the crime voluntarily and had been a good encomendero in New Mexico, personally teaching the catechism to the Indians under his control.
“Diego got off with an easy sentence.” Brent exclaimed. “He returned to his wife in the Canaries and was never allowed to come back to New Mexico.” Brent murmured.
“An easy sentence compared to excommunication or death,” Lynae contradicted, “but hardly an easy one for his New Mexico wife, María de Abendano, and their two young daughters. The last time they ever saw their husband and father was as he sailed for Europe.[1] Somehow I don't feel as happy about Diego being punished when I realize how sad it was for his wife and kids never to see him again." Lynae added.
"Any sadder than his first wife and kids never seeing him again, not knowing what happened to him?" Brent rationalized.
“Maybe that first wife didn’t even want him back. Maybe he wasn’t as nice to her as he is to María, or just maybe she was happier with him out of the family. Maybe…” Lynae rattled on thinking of all the reasons she knew of in her extended family why people separated, once again recalling her initial feelings against Diego.
“Let's see,” Brent interrupted Lynae’s litany of possible reasons as he flopped down on their couch to read more from the Chavez book. “Diego was thirty-three in 1626 when he revealed his bigamy. They had two little children, both girls. These were María, who became the wife of Manuel Jorge, and Diego de Montoya, and both became our ancestors. The other was Petronila who married Pedro Romero. After the annulment their mother married Antonio de Salas and had at least one more son.”
“Boy, the actions of one man changed history and family genealogy for us, even four hundred years down the line. I wish I could know what my life will be like, and how the choices I make will change the future."
"Be careful what you wish for,” Brent cautioned. “It seems to come true all too easily. Before you speak out loud, think about the consequences. I’m sure I don’t want to come back here during the Indian uprising in l680,” Brent remembered the details of the gruesome story from the tour guide in Santa Fe. “So let's not even talk about that time period.”
"But Brent, don't you wonder why after eighty years of following the Church and the Spanish rule, Indians with no memories of life before the Spaniards, would band together to try to exterminate all the Spanish settlers, friars, and soldiers?"
“Lynae, I said, I don't even want to think about it." Brent put his hands to his ears and began whistling tunelessly to block out Lynae’s words.
Brent at coin club, Rancho Academy, Las Vegas
NV
A Bit of History
At home in their Las Vegas apartment, Lynae searched through Mom's genealogy notes and pages of history books copied at the Salt Lake Family History Center just before the Christmas break ended. They had been on their way to the airport to fly back when Mom insisted on spending time at the library sending the children across the street to the Pioneer Historical Museum. Brent decided to tag along with Mom, instead, to see the Family History Library, so Lynae and Jenny soon joined them back at the copy machine pouring nickels into the slots like a Las Vegas slot machine.
"At least here, we get something back for the nickels we put in," Mom had joked.
“We already have homework and the year has barely started.” Lynae complained. We have to choose a state to study for our term project in history class, this year.” “I’ve decided to follow New Mexico History through the four hundred year development since the Europeans first subjected the natives of that area.” she announced.
“That’s a pretty broad subject. You might want to narrow it down to--say-- maybe just write about one of the centuries.”
With that in mind, Lynae and Brent began to read the parts Mom had marked.
“The first settlers came with Oñate in 1598. Wagon trains followed the thousand miles of trail from Mexico City to Santa Fé nearly every year until the 1680 rebellion. The trains were accompanied by soldier escorts, many of whom made the trip numerous times. The Camino Royal, or Royal Road, later became the destination of Anglo traders carrying goods from the United States along the Santa Fé Trail.
The Viceroy's instruction of March 30, 1609, outlined the Indian policy for frontier New Mexico:
"No one shall have jurisdiction over the Indians except the governor or his lieutenant.”
Peralta was permitted to map out parcels of lands with new grants for these encomiedas if they did not interfere with those of the previous governor, Juan de Oñate.
Viceroy Velasco's orders to Peralta were very plain: "Inasmuch as it has been reported that the tribute levied on the natives is excessive, and that it is collected with much vexation and trouble to them, we charge the governor to take suitable measures in the matter, proceeding in such a way as to relieve and satisfy the royal conscience."
Peralta's policy was to defend Santa Fe against Indian attacks. The viceroy instructed:
"Under no circumstances, shall he give up the protection of the land and the colonists, but he shall try by peaceful means or by force to subdue the enemy or drive them out."
“This plan for peace with the Indians involved the military as well as missionaries already hard at work converting the Pueblo Indians to Christianity.
The small settlement south of San Gabriel began to grow. Each year wagon trains filled with soldiers, friars and new settlers made their way northward along the Camino Real for a trek of over a thousand miles from the City of Mexico to the New Mexico province. Family by family the Spanish settlements grew. While the friars supervised the Indians in building many chapels and convents in the dozens of pueblos surrounding the area, the other colonists were left on their own to build their churches.
“The Spaniards were content with a temporary church made of mud mortar and poles, which Friar Alonso de Peinad organized. This building stood only a few years before it collapsed; then the settlers reverted to holding services in a makeshift church in a wattled structure called a xacalon which was also used as a galaerron or granary.
“In 1627 Friar Alonso de Benevides, supervised the building of a new church called the Parróquia. He wrote the first authentic record of the church building:
"The church in the city was a poor hut. The religious so far, had built churches for the Indians in the pueblos where they resided and left to the Spaniards the care of building a church for themselves. And so as soon as I came in custodio 1622, I commenced to build the church and monastery. The convent and church in Santa Fé was completed by 1629.[2]
“By 1630 the population of Santa Fé included only 250 Spaniards among a total population of about one thousand. During the thirty years of Franciscan work on the conversion of New Mexico, over 700natives joined with them living in Santa Fé. The first twelve years they were unable to make any spiritual conquests. In 1622, the province of New Mexico was erected into a custodia and Friar Alfonso Benavides was appointed as custodio.”
“Cool,” Lynae pointed to the Spanish words on the page she was reading. I bet that is where we get the word custodian —someone who takes care of and looks after a building or child — you know like mom is the custodial parent when we are with her?”
“I don’t know. For custodial parents some of the encomenderias and custodias were not so much out to take care of the Indians under their care, but to take advantage of them!” Brent mused.
Lynae continued to read: “Of the 266 ministers Benavides had taken with him only sixteen priests and three lay brothers, and they were unable to care for the thirty-four thousand three hundred and twenty Indians.”
“Over thirty four thousand Indians — I didn’t even know there were that many in the whole country!” Lynae interrupted her own reading again, then continued solemnly.
“In view of this condition of affairs the cedula directed that "to the said custody of New Mexico be sent thirty religious to teach and convert the natives. In 1629 this royal decree was completed and additional missionaries were sent. Through the missionaries: "the Lord hath wrought so many marvels and miracles and made so splendid discoveries of riches, spiritual as well as temporal."
“This would be a good narrow topic to cover in your report. You could make a map and show the various tribes — do you know what a league is? We could make it one inch to a league and populate it with tiny figures—one plastic Indian to represent 1,000 natives.”
“So, how much is a league?”
“Look it up,” Brent advised.
“This dictionary says about three miles.” Lynae put the dictionary away and continued to read from the copied pages.
“There were an enormous number of natives under the Spanish and Church rule: the nation of the Piros was an agricultural and hunting people, dwelling in exceedingly fertile land. This was the first series of semi-civilized pueblos found toward the north. Although they were among the last of the tribes to accept Christianity, by 1626 three monasteries and churches had be built.
“The province of Piros extended along the river fifteen leagues from the first pueblo of Senecu to the last of Sivelleta, altogether there were fourteen pueblos, the chief being Socorro, on both sides of the river with 67 thousand inhabitants, all baptized.”
“Where are we going to get 67 plastic Indians? Better make it one figure equals ten thousand!”
“Teoa (Tigua) nation, 7 leagues north of Piros included fifteen or sixteen towns located on the river. It had seven thousand inhabitants and the convents of San Antonio de Sandia and San Antonio de Isleta. The nation of the Queres dwelt four leagues above the Teoa, the first town of which was San Felipe. There were seven villages with a population of four thousand, three convents and a church in each pueblo.”
“So how do we represent four thousand? Cut one into pieces?”
“The Tanos nation, ten leagues from Tompiras, ten leagues east of the Queres, the first town of which was Chili. There were fourteen or fifteen villages, containing ten thousand inhabitants with good churches and six monasteries. Tompiros has five villages, with four thousand inhabitants, convent and church and a training school in all the trades. The Pecos nation lies four leagues north of the Tanos, with two thousand inhabitants, a convent and a very elaborate church and good schools.”
“By authority of the governor the soldiers are appointed chiefs of the Indian pueblos, from whom they receive a tribute which is sufficient for their maintenance, and even for enabling them to help the needy among their countrymen.”
“Was that a tax, a bribe or tithing?” Brent murmured mostly to himself.
“The first nation to embrace Christianity was the Taos nation, eight towns of six thousand people. Taos had churches and three convents including the very attractive church at San Ildenfonso. Teaching the Indians to use dams and ditches in the area was a project of the friars.
“The Hemes nation, west of the Toas about seven leagues had two towns, St. Joseph and San Diego, with three thousand population.”
“We could put in little irrigation ditches and show how the Spaniards and Indians worked together to irrigate the desert. It’s cool that irrigation methods that were brought from the Iberian Plains of Spain are still in use today in the Río Grande Valley.”
“But did you realize it was the Pueblo Indians, and not the Europeans, who had the best sanitation practices?”
“Well if sanitation includes fertilizing their gardens with sewage, I guess you’re right. At least they took pains to take it away from the living areas and dispose of it. It was the sewage thrown into the streets and tramped into the homes that caused a lot of the plagues and diseases destroying whole populations of Europeans."
“Diseases brought into the New World destroyed hundreds of thousands, maybe millions of natives who didn’t have immunity to deal with the new germs.”
“Too bad they didn’t have flu shots!”
“That’s too gross to get into. Let’s ignore that part. We could put in little horses, cows and cowboys with ropes to show it was actually the Spaniards who brought cattle ranching to the New World, and all the equipment like lariats, saddles, and cattle drives.”
Brent took the book and continued to read where Lynae left off.
“The Picuries nation, located about ten leagues up the river from the Toas had a population of about two thousand residing in one village. They properly belonged to the nation of the Taos, but were considered as another race, having lived by themselves for a long time. The Taos nation, located seven leagues north of Picuries had a population of twenty-five hundred baptized. Although they were the same nation as the Picuries originally, they spoke a somewhat different language.
“The Rock of Acoma twelve leagues west from the town of Santa Ana in the Queres province, did not consent to receive the missionaries until 1629.
“The ten thousand Zuni built several villages with two convents and two churches thirty leagues west of Acoma. The ten thousand Moqui lived thirty leagues west of the Zuni among several villages.”
“Do you know how big this map is going to be? Twelve leagues west, plus 12 more, then thirty? We’ll have to scale it down smaller or we won’t be able to move it!”
“Or rent a fork lift.”
“The Navajos first resisted the missionary efforts, but finally consented to attend services at the mission of Santa Clara, in the Toas nations, which was built in 1629 located between Santa Fé and the Río Grande.”
“The Navajos are the only ones I’ve heard of in the Four Corners area.” Brent mumbled between sentences as he read.
“This is awesome! There were hundreds of thousands of natives living in this state when the Europeans came. No wonder Mom says it’s not right to say the history of New Mexico began with Oñate’s coming.” Lynae said remembering Mom’s insistence on that very thing in El Paso.
"Lynae, here is the answer to your question, about why there was an uprising after eighty years. But don't tell me about it. I don't even want to think about it! I'll end up finding an arrow head or something that transports me back in time, and I’ll get massacred with the settlers."
"Oh, Brent, you can't have gotten massacred, our ancestors were the ones that lived through the massacre, and you wouldn't be alive now if they hadn’t. And you wouldn't be alive if you had gotten killed going back there, then."
"What?" Brent dropped his jaw and looked at Lynae with that “no duh” expression he had worked so long in front of the mirror to perfect.
Lynae summarized her discoveries out loud to Brent before beginning to rewrite her introductory paper: "There were three elements of conflict during the eighty years of Spanish rule in the area. First, the governor was determined to get more land and power by forcing the natives to obey his rules and pay huge taxes. He recruited more and more people who were willing to settle the new colonies.
“Next, the colonizers had brought their families into the area expecting to settle there, developing farms and ranches and building permanent homes. And third, to the church people, the friars and their helpers, the main point of being there was to convert the natives to Christianity. They only supported activities and events leading them toward their own goal, just like Mi Abuelo Cristóval explained to us at dinner.”
“I guess because everyone had different goals that contradicted and conflicted with the others, there just wasn't much progress toward growth and culture during the rest of rest of the seventeenth century.” Brent summarized.
"Do you know that after the first group of eight priests and two lay brothers who came with Oñate in 1598, the number of church people grew to fifty friars in 1639. They worked the missions serving over sixty-thousand Christian natives in over ninety pueblos grouped in twenty-five missions. The military became the only source of protection for the missionaries and they only had about two hundred and fifty soldiers at Santa Fe.” Lynae scanned ahead and summarized.
“They couldn't have done it that easily if the Indians in the pueblos around the area hadn't even tried to resist.” Brent calculated. “They just went along with all the demands of the soldiers rather than fight them. It wasn’t really until after 1670 that the Apaches became a problem and began raiding the colonies.”
“But that solved your other problem.” Brent lifted his hand in a gesture of dismissal. “Just write what you just told me, and your paper is written.”
[1]Chavez Antonio de Salas was a step-son of Pedro Lucero de Godoy. It is not certain if he was a child of Pedro's first wife in New Mexico, Petronila de Zomaor, or of a former wife in new Spain. He held the encomienda de Pojoaque Peueblo, where he and Maria de Abendano lived with their son Simon Salas and the two daughters of Maria's from her invalid marriage to Diego de Vera.
[2]History
"María, my love, come here, I must talk to you," Diego de Vera sounded faraway yet determined. “Do you know the new Friar that has been appointed as head of the church here?"
"Si, cómo no, mi esposo. He is Fray Alonso Benavides, recently from the Canary Islands. He has not only been appointed head of the church here, but is also representing the King on matters of the Inquisition. ¿What is it? my husband, you seem so anxious."
"There is a matter I must confess to the church, but first, I must make a confession and attempt to make amends to you, my dear wife. This is something I planned never to confess or divulge.“ Diego paced the floor in agitation. “I became more firm in my resolve when we had our two daughters.” Taking María in his arms he continued. “I’ve come to love and respect you more as each day passes. But now, with Benavides here, in Santa Fé. He will know. It is better for me to come forward and confess voluntarily than to have him drag me before the pueblo and condemn me publicly." He pushed his wife gently away, looking deep into her eyes, awaiting her response.
"What is it my husband? What mortal sin could you have committed? You are a good and holy man, as good as any I have known here or in Mexico."
"As a layman Benavides was sheriff in the Canary Islands. He knew me there, and he knew my wife in Tenerife in the Canaries.” María listened intently in an attempt to make sense of this new information.
“He will remember me, and know that my wife did not die, but may still even to this day be alive there on the island. She and my children do not know what has become of me. I planned never to return, allowing her to believe I was dead, but now, it will all come out in public. It will be a humiliation to you and the children.”
Diego gently pulled María’s hand from her tear stained face. “I must do what I can to lessen the pain of the disclosure, for your sake. I am sorry that I have lied to you, but more sorry that I have brought you such great pain." María sobbed openly, and pulled Diego toward him as he made an attempt to leave the room.
Diego pulled away from her grasp, then walked slowly through the streets to the church confessional booth where he confessed to Father Benavides his bigamous status.
As penance, Father Benivedes ordered Diego to return to the Canary Islands. Father Benivedes set sail for Spain to report information on New Mexico to the queen in 1626, taking Diego along as far as Mexico. There Benivedes interceded, pleading Diego’s case, testifying that Diego had confessed the crime voluntarily and had been a good encomendero in New Mexico, personally teaching the catechism to the Indians under his control.
“Diego got off with an easy sentence.” Brent exclaimed. “He returned to his wife in the Canaries and was never allowed to come back to New Mexico.” Brent murmured.
“An easy sentence compared to excommunication or death,” Lynae contradicted, “but hardly an easy one for his New Mexico wife, María de Abendano, and their two young daughters. The last time they ever saw their husband and father was as he sailed for Europe.[1] Somehow I don't feel as happy about Diego being punished when I realize how sad it was for his wife and kids never to see him again." Lynae added.
"Any sadder than his first wife and kids never seeing him again, not knowing what happened to him?" Brent rationalized.
“Maybe that first wife didn’t even want him back. Maybe he wasn’t as nice to her as he is to María, or just maybe she was happier with him out of the family. Maybe…” Lynae rattled on thinking of all the reasons she knew of in her extended family why people separated, once again recalling her initial feelings against Diego.
“Let's see,” Brent interrupted Lynae’s litany of possible reasons as he flopped down on their couch to read more from the Chavez book. “Diego was thirty-three in 1626 when he revealed his bigamy. They had two little children, both girls. These were María, who became the wife of Manuel Jorge, and Diego de Montoya, and both became our ancestors. The other was Petronila who married Pedro Romero. After the annulment their mother married Antonio de Salas and had at least one more son.”
“Boy, the actions of one man changed history and family genealogy for us, even four hundred years down the line. I wish I could know what my life will be like, and how the choices I make will change the future."
"Be careful what you wish for,” Brent cautioned. “It seems to come true all too easily. Before you speak out loud, think about the consequences. I’m sure I don’t want to come back here during the Indian uprising in l680,” Brent remembered the details of the gruesome story from the tour guide in Santa Fe. “So let's not even talk about that time period.”
"But Brent, don't you wonder why after eighty years of following the Church and the Spanish rule, Indians with no memories of life before the Spaniards, would band together to try to exterminate all the Spanish settlers, friars, and soldiers?"
“Lynae, I said, I don't even want to think about it." Brent put his hands to his ears and began whistling tunelessly to block out Lynae’s words.
Brent at coin club, Rancho Academy, Las Vegas
NV
A Bit of History
At home in their Las Vegas apartment, Lynae searched through Mom's genealogy notes and pages of history books copied at the Salt Lake Family History Center just before the Christmas break ended. They had been on their way to the airport to fly back when Mom insisted on spending time at the library sending the children across the street to the Pioneer Historical Museum. Brent decided to tag along with Mom, instead, to see the Family History Library, so Lynae and Jenny soon joined them back at the copy machine pouring nickels into the slots like a Las Vegas slot machine.
"At least here, we get something back for the nickels we put in," Mom had joked.
“We already have homework and the year has barely started.” Lynae complained. We have to choose a state to study for our term project in history class, this year.” “I’ve decided to follow New Mexico History through the four hundred year development since the Europeans first subjected the natives of that area.” she announced.
“That’s a pretty broad subject. You might want to narrow it down to--say-- maybe just write about one of the centuries.”
With that in mind, Lynae and Brent began to read the parts Mom had marked.
“The first settlers came with Oñate in 1598. Wagon trains followed the thousand miles of trail from Mexico City to Santa Fé nearly every year until the 1680 rebellion. The trains were accompanied by soldier escorts, many of whom made the trip numerous times. The Camino Royal, or Royal Road, later became the destination of Anglo traders carrying goods from the United States along the Santa Fé Trail.
The Viceroy's instruction of March 30, 1609, outlined the Indian policy for frontier New Mexico:
"No one shall have jurisdiction over the Indians except the governor or his lieutenant.”
Peralta was permitted to map out parcels of lands with new grants for these encomiedas if they did not interfere with those of the previous governor, Juan de Oñate.
Viceroy Velasco's orders to Peralta were very plain: "Inasmuch as it has been reported that the tribute levied on the natives is excessive, and that it is collected with much vexation and trouble to them, we charge the governor to take suitable measures in the matter, proceeding in such a way as to relieve and satisfy the royal conscience."
Peralta's policy was to defend Santa Fe against Indian attacks. The viceroy instructed:
"Under no circumstances, shall he give up the protection of the land and the colonists, but he shall try by peaceful means or by force to subdue the enemy or drive them out."
“This plan for peace with the Indians involved the military as well as missionaries already hard at work converting the Pueblo Indians to Christianity.
The small settlement south of San Gabriel began to grow. Each year wagon trains filled with soldiers, friars and new settlers made their way northward along the Camino Real for a trek of over a thousand miles from the City of Mexico to the New Mexico province. Family by family the Spanish settlements grew. While the friars supervised the Indians in building many chapels and convents in the dozens of pueblos surrounding the area, the other colonists were left on their own to build their churches.
“The Spaniards were content with a temporary church made of mud mortar and poles, which Friar Alonso de Peinad organized. This building stood only a few years before it collapsed; then the settlers reverted to holding services in a makeshift church in a wattled structure called a xacalon which was also used as a galaerron or granary.
“In 1627 Friar Alonso de Benevides, supervised the building of a new church called the Parróquia. He wrote the first authentic record of the church building:
"The church in the city was a poor hut. The religious so far, had built churches for the Indians in the pueblos where they resided and left to the Spaniards the care of building a church for themselves. And so as soon as I came in custodio 1622, I commenced to build the church and monastery. The convent and church in Santa Fé was completed by 1629.[2]
“By 1630 the population of Santa Fé included only 250 Spaniards among a total population of about one thousand. During the thirty years of Franciscan work on the conversion of New Mexico, over 700natives joined with them living in Santa Fé. The first twelve years they were unable to make any spiritual conquests. In 1622, the province of New Mexico was erected into a custodia and Friar Alfonso Benavides was appointed as custodio.”
“Cool,” Lynae pointed to the Spanish words on the page she was reading. I bet that is where we get the word custodian —someone who takes care of and looks after a building or child — you know like mom is the custodial parent when we are with her?”
“I don’t know. For custodial parents some of the encomenderias and custodias were not so much out to take care of the Indians under their care, but to take advantage of them!” Brent mused.
Lynae continued to read: “Of the 266 ministers Benavides had taken with him only sixteen priests and three lay brothers, and they were unable to care for the thirty-four thousand three hundred and twenty Indians.”
“Over thirty four thousand Indians — I didn’t even know there were that many in the whole country!” Lynae interrupted her own reading again, then continued solemnly.
“In view of this condition of affairs the cedula directed that "to the said custody of New Mexico be sent thirty religious to teach and convert the natives. In 1629 this royal decree was completed and additional missionaries were sent. Through the missionaries: "the Lord hath wrought so many marvels and miracles and made so splendid discoveries of riches, spiritual as well as temporal."
“This would be a good narrow topic to cover in your report. You could make a map and show the various tribes — do you know what a league is? We could make it one inch to a league and populate it with tiny figures—one plastic Indian to represent 1,000 natives.”
“So, how much is a league?”
“Look it up,” Brent advised.
“This dictionary says about three miles.” Lynae put the dictionary away and continued to read from the copied pages.
“There were an enormous number of natives under the Spanish and Church rule: the nation of the Piros was an agricultural and hunting people, dwelling in exceedingly fertile land. This was the first series of semi-civilized pueblos found toward the north. Although they were among the last of the tribes to accept Christianity, by 1626 three monasteries and churches had be built.
“The province of Piros extended along the river fifteen leagues from the first pueblo of Senecu to the last of Sivelleta, altogether there were fourteen pueblos, the chief being Socorro, on both sides of the river with 67 thousand inhabitants, all baptized.”
“Where are we going to get 67 plastic Indians? Better make it one figure equals ten thousand!”
“Teoa (Tigua) nation, 7 leagues north of Piros included fifteen or sixteen towns located on the river. It had seven thousand inhabitants and the convents of San Antonio de Sandia and San Antonio de Isleta. The nation of the Queres dwelt four leagues above the Teoa, the first town of which was San Felipe. There were seven villages with a population of four thousand, three convents and a church in each pueblo.”
“So how do we represent four thousand? Cut one into pieces?”
“The Tanos nation, ten leagues from Tompiras, ten leagues east of the Queres, the first town of which was Chili. There were fourteen or fifteen villages, containing ten thousand inhabitants with good churches and six monasteries. Tompiros has five villages, with four thousand inhabitants, convent and church and a training school in all the trades. The Pecos nation lies four leagues north of the Tanos, with two thousand inhabitants, a convent and a very elaborate church and good schools.”
“By authority of the governor the soldiers are appointed chiefs of the Indian pueblos, from whom they receive a tribute which is sufficient for their maintenance, and even for enabling them to help the needy among their countrymen.”
“Was that a tax, a bribe or tithing?” Brent murmured mostly to himself.
“The first nation to embrace Christianity was the Taos nation, eight towns of six thousand people. Taos had churches and three convents including the very attractive church at San Ildenfonso. Teaching the Indians to use dams and ditches in the area was a project of the friars.
“The Hemes nation, west of the Toas about seven leagues had two towns, St. Joseph and San Diego, with three thousand population.”
“We could put in little irrigation ditches and show how the Spaniards and Indians worked together to irrigate the desert. It’s cool that irrigation methods that were brought from the Iberian Plains of Spain are still in use today in the Río Grande Valley.”
“But did you realize it was the Pueblo Indians, and not the Europeans, who had the best sanitation practices?”
“Well if sanitation includes fertilizing their gardens with sewage, I guess you’re right. At least they took pains to take it away from the living areas and dispose of it. It was the sewage thrown into the streets and tramped into the homes that caused a lot of the plagues and diseases destroying whole populations of Europeans."
“Diseases brought into the New World destroyed hundreds of thousands, maybe millions of natives who didn’t have immunity to deal with the new germs.”
“Too bad they didn’t have flu shots!”
“That’s too gross to get into. Let’s ignore that part. We could put in little horses, cows and cowboys with ropes to show it was actually the Spaniards who brought cattle ranching to the New World, and all the equipment like lariats, saddles, and cattle drives.”
Brent took the book and continued to read where Lynae left off.
“The Picuries nation, located about ten leagues up the river from the Toas had a population of about two thousand residing in one village. They properly belonged to the nation of the Taos, but were considered as another race, having lived by themselves for a long time. The Taos nation, located seven leagues north of Picuries had a population of twenty-five hundred baptized. Although they were the same nation as the Picuries originally, they spoke a somewhat different language.
“The Rock of Acoma twelve leagues west from the town of Santa Ana in the Queres province, did not consent to receive the missionaries until 1629.
“The ten thousand Zuni built several villages with two convents and two churches thirty leagues west of Acoma. The ten thousand Moqui lived thirty leagues west of the Zuni among several villages.”
“Do you know how big this map is going to be? Twelve leagues west, plus 12 more, then thirty? We’ll have to scale it down smaller or we won’t be able to move it!”
“Or rent a fork lift.”
“The Navajos first resisted the missionary efforts, but finally consented to attend services at the mission of Santa Clara, in the Toas nations, which was built in 1629 located between Santa Fé and the Río Grande.”
“The Navajos are the only ones I’ve heard of in the Four Corners area.” Brent mumbled between sentences as he read.
“This is awesome! There were hundreds of thousands of natives living in this state when the Europeans came. No wonder Mom says it’s not right to say the history of New Mexico began with Oñate’s coming.” Lynae said remembering Mom’s insistence on that very thing in El Paso.
"Lynae, here is the answer to your question, about why there was an uprising after eighty years. But don't tell me about it. I don't even want to think about it! I'll end up finding an arrow head or something that transports me back in time, and I’ll get massacred with the settlers."
"Oh, Brent, you can't have gotten massacred, our ancestors were the ones that lived through the massacre, and you wouldn't be alive now if they hadn’t. And you wouldn't be alive if you had gotten killed going back there, then."
"What?" Brent dropped his jaw and looked at Lynae with that “no duh” expression he had worked so long in front of the mirror to perfect.
Lynae summarized her discoveries out loud to Brent before beginning to rewrite her introductory paper: "There were three elements of conflict during the eighty years of Spanish rule in the area. First, the governor was determined to get more land and power by forcing the natives to obey his rules and pay huge taxes. He recruited more and more people who were willing to settle the new colonies.
“Next, the colonizers had brought their families into the area expecting to settle there, developing farms and ranches and building permanent homes. And third, to the church people, the friars and their helpers, the main point of being there was to convert the natives to Christianity. They only supported activities and events leading them toward their own goal, just like Mi Abuelo Cristóval explained to us at dinner.”
“I guess because everyone had different goals that contradicted and conflicted with the others, there just wasn't much progress toward growth and culture during the rest of rest of the seventeenth century.” Brent summarized.
"Do you know that after the first group of eight priests and two lay brothers who came with Oñate in 1598, the number of church people grew to fifty friars in 1639. They worked the missions serving over sixty-thousand Christian natives in over ninety pueblos grouped in twenty-five missions. The military became the only source of protection for the missionaries and they only had about two hundred and fifty soldiers at Santa Fe.” Lynae scanned ahead and summarized.
“They couldn't have done it that easily if the Indians in the pueblos around the area hadn't even tried to resist.” Brent calculated. “They just went along with all the demands of the soldiers rather than fight them. It wasn’t really until after 1670 that the Apaches became a problem and began raiding the colonies.”
“But that solved your other problem.” Brent lifted his hand in a gesture of dismissal. “Just write what you just told me, and your paper is written.”
[1]Chavez Antonio de Salas was a step-son of Pedro Lucero de Godoy. It is not certain if he was a child of Pedro's first wife in New Mexico, Petronila de Zomaor, or of a former wife in new Spain. He held the encomienda de Pojoaque Peueblo, where he and Maria de Abendano lived with their son Simon Salas and the two daughters of Maria's from her invalid marriage to Diego de Vera.
[2]History
Halloween Candles and Witch Craft
Halloween Candles and Witch Craft
It was Halloween, but the Youth groups at church had their party on the weekend. Brent and Lynae decided (or rather Gina, had announced) that they were a bit too grown up to go trick-or-treating. "I wish I could be baby-sitting, or that Gina's grandkids were visiting. Then we'd have an excuse to go trick-or-treating, at least within the apartment buildings," Lynae whined.
"Oh, good grief, Lynae. Stop your whining! Dad and Gina wouldn't let us go anyway. You know Las Vegas is 'way too dangerous' for people to go outside. I wish we were back in our old neighborhood where we could run around on our own on nights like this -- anyway we can have our own little party in the apartment. You get a candle for the jack-o-lantern. I have some matches hidden away. Gina and Dad are gone for the evening to a meeting, so we‘ll just have our own private party. You remember the transcript of George Jacobs' witchcraft trial in Salem. I think it’s in the wooden chest Mom left with us. I'll get it out while you get the candle."
"OK, but open the window a crack. It smells like your old shoes in here. I'll be right back." As Lynae opened Brent's bedroom door, the vacuum action between the open window and the opening door caused the candle to flare, then flicker. Something about the change in light startled Lynae. She stood frozen in her tracks. In the flicker of light Brent and Lynae could see that their surroundings change. They were back in New Mexico, and with them were many of the ancestors knew, along with some newcomers.
Right in front of them stood Diego de Trujillo, born 1612, with his wife, Catalina Vaszquez.
Alonso Baca had been a small baby when Brent and Lynae first visited Antonio’ s dinner table. Now, he was dressed in a captain's uniform just as he had when he lead a small exploratory expedition three hundred leagues into the eastern plains.
“Boy, this serial polygamy gets pretty complicated. Do you realize that this handful of ancestors intermarried so much that on a pedigree chart they would actually spread out to be over a thousand different people? I'm surprised we don't have six toes. Isn't that supposed to happen with interbreeding?"
"Don't be stupid, Lynae! There were laws that kept them from marrying first cousins or sobrinos.[1] In fact, some of the court cases were about that very thing, and the people had to prove that they were not blood relatives, but step children or adopted in order for their marriages to be legalized. But the really interesting cases were the witchcraft trials -- even in Santa Fé.”
"When the lights flickered and the room spun, I thought we were headed for Salem, Massachusetts, in 1692, but we’re back in New Mexico, before the Indian Rebellion, but after Diego's confession. So, my brilliant guide and Order of the Arrow Boy Scout, when are we?"
"Sixteen hundred and twenty-six, the year of our Lord," the judge stated as if in answer to Lynae's query. "Isabel Holguin, wife of Juan de Vitoria Carvajal, and daughter of Juan López Holguin y Catalina de Villanueva, you are accused of trafficking in magic roots. What is your plea?"
Isabel went pale. She knew clearly what the charges were, but how could she explain to this magistrate that the magic roots were no more than special plants that the Pueblos had used for centuries to cure infection and fever?
She stood speechless with downcast eyes. The gauzma shift she wore hung straight from her shoulders, the fringes drooping limply at her side.
"Hey, Judge, uh, your honor, we still like use those herbs in the twenty-first century. Slippery Elm and licorice root. . ."
"Shush, Lynae, we'll end up in prison with Isabel. If she can't explain magic roots, how are you going to explain being from four hundred years in the future? Just listen."
“But she was an ancestor. That means we have witchcraft on both sides of Mom’s family! Does it run in the family?”
“I guess you are proof enough of that.” Before Brent could become more sarcastic, the scene faded into another courtroom scene: "Hernando Marquez was serving the Crown as an Alferez soldier, but now he is dead this day in October, 1628." Hernando's brother Pedro was standing in court accusing a Mexican Indian woman, Beatriz, of causing Hernando’s death through witchcraft.
"Please tell the court about Hernando’s marital status, Pedro." Brent challenged. He was standing in the place of the attorney determined to serve as defense attorney for Beatriz.
"Hernando had been living in concubinage with Juana de la Cruz, but he moved out and spurned Juana," the witness answered nervously.
"Does this give you any indication of the moral standing of your brother Hernando, Pedro?" Brent asked confidently. "You seem to be very willing to accuse innocent women of practicing witchcraft when you and your brother are guilty of immorality -- this is factual, the witchcraft is illusionary -- you have tried to cover up your immorality by accusing these two poor women, Juana and Beatriz of practicing witchcraft. Just because Hernando is dead does not mean he was killed by witchcraft. What proof do you offer?" Brent was really getting into this lawyer thing. "Just how do you prove that Juana 'hexed' Hernando? I think without proof -- at least in the America I know -- Beatriz and Juana are innocent until proven guilty."
"Brent!" motioned Lynae. "This isn't the America you know. You better not say too much more, or they’ll be asking you questions.”
“Oops, I guess I got carried away with the moment. They’re not ancestors, as far as I know, but the case was so interesting, I was reading about it the other night.”
"Don't let this courtroom stuff go to your head, Brent. Just because Dad is a lawyer in the twentieth century doesn't make you one in the sixteenth. You better watch what you say. Here's another trial . . . just listen." Lynae hushed him, mimicking his usual command.
"But look at this one," Brent stated indignantly, "That governor thinks he has the right to boss everybody around. Don't they know about The Bill of Rights?"
"Brent, The Bill of Rights hasn't been written yet, and besides, it is Spain, not England, that is the Crown here."
"Francisco García Holgado was twenty-two in 1632 when he was in Santa Fé as a soldier; residence in Río Abajo near Isleta. He is the brother in law of José Nieto and Pedro de Leyva, and a weaver by trade but he was forbidden by Governor Lopez Mendízabal to make cloth for the Franciscans' habits. Boy a guy can't even weave cloth if he wants to help the monks dress."
Lynae looked across into what appeared to be the next courtroom. "It's Cousin Alonso! He got back safely from the expedition. He saved the colonies by uncovering a serious Indian plot, but now he is accused of conspiracy along with fourteen others and Governor Pacheco is demanding that all fourteen men be executed for it by beheading them.
"Yes, "Brent concurred sadly. "That’s how our friend and cousin Antonio died, 1643. But Alonso and three others escaped and gave up their encomedios. They left the area never to be heard from again." Our own don Fernando Durán y Chaves was one of the others that escaped. In 1646 he and his son don Agustin de Chaves, were in the soldier escort that brought a new governor don Luís de Guzman from Mexico City to Santa Fé. Don Fernando got into Governor Pacheco's good graces by attending the execution of eight of the conspirators in Santa Fe, July 21, 1643, and was appointed Alcalde by him. Then when Pacheco turned against the friars, don Fernando took the friars' side in the matter. Pacheco then condemned him and thirteen others to be executed for sedition."
"But unlike Alonso, he was able to come back," Lynae argued, reading the from Chaves book. "The next major issue, in starting in 1660, took place under the tenures of Governors Lopez Mendízabal and Peñalosa for the same reasons. At this time don Fernando Durán y Chaves was a Sargento Mayor. The crowing incident took place in August, 1663, when Peñalosa violated the right of
sanctuary by removing Fernando's brother, Pedro, from the Mission at Santo Domingo Pueblo and then imprisoned him in the Palace of the Governors with Fernando and Pedro's son, Cristóbal.”
"The courts were certainly brutal, but listen to this. At least women were recognized as important people under the Spanish Crown. They are able to testify in court, and inherit land from their husbands and pass it on to their children.“ That's something that didn't happen in the United States until the twentieth century,“ Brent read on:
“Juan Gonzalez Lobon eldest of the family, forty years old in 1660; henchman of Governor Lopez Mendizabal, a baiter of the friars who was described by them as a buffoon. Brother of Diego and Domingo Gonzalez Lobon; with sisters all living in Santa Fe. Antonia Gonzalez de Vitoria, sister of Diego Gonzalez Lobon and an aunt of a Pedro de Montoya; her full name shows her to be a part of the Carvajal family on her mothers side; native of Santa Fe, important witness concerning gubernatorial scandals in 1664, age forty-eight and a widow. In 1705 she was too old to recall her years -- that's a good excuse for not telling your age, funny that someone that age would even care!"
"Here's another lady: Luisa Ana Robledo, native of San Gabriel del Yunque, 1664, age 60 years old native of San Gabriel extraction. Daughter of Batolome Romero and Luisa Robledo: A woman of spirit, she stood up for her husband and family. The precious dresses of La Conquistadora were in her care. “Remember La Conquistadora at St. Francis in Santa Fe? We saw it on our visit there with Mom. We even got this post card of it!”
“I don't think she is on our pedigree chart, but, ¡way to go Luisa! I think she must have been a lot like our grandmothers, strong, assertive, courageous and outspoken. And they lived a long time too, those who lived, anyway. Do you know that Grandma Lucy turned eighty in January, and her sister Great-Auntie Lola is over ninety-two!"
“You sure inherited those traits, Lynae.” Brent reflected in one of his rare moments of admiration and emotion. “You know, every time we go on an adventure, you show more strength and courage than I ever imagined you could. I'm proud of you hermanita. You're a great sister. I bet you live to be at least one hundred and three."
"If I plan to live at all, we better get back to the nineties before Gina and Dad get back. If they find us burning a candle we'll have to listen to the stories about Cheryse nearly burning up in her bedroom with her candles.”
“Yeah, if Mom were here she'd tell us about when Doug about burned down the old farm house, but then went bravely in with the hose to put it out -- funny how he knew exactly where it was.
“That's one scene I'd like to visit, but poor Mom, she says she got hysterical and all she could do was cry that the house was burning down."
"Well, she'd been through a lot by then. After all, YOU were already born, and we'd moved back to the farm. But that was in another life. Come on, blow out the candle. I'll open the window a little more to get rid of the smell."
[1] nephews/neices
It was Halloween, but the Youth groups at church had their party on the weekend. Brent and Lynae decided (or rather Gina, had announced) that they were a bit too grown up to go trick-or-treating. "I wish I could be baby-sitting, or that Gina's grandkids were visiting. Then we'd have an excuse to go trick-or-treating, at least within the apartment buildings," Lynae whined.
"Oh, good grief, Lynae. Stop your whining! Dad and Gina wouldn't let us go anyway. You know Las Vegas is 'way too dangerous' for people to go outside. I wish we were back in our old neighborhood where we could run around on our own on nights like this -- anyway we can have our own little party in the apartment. You get a candle for the jack-o-lantern. I have some matches hidden away. Gina and Dad are gone for the evening to a meeting, so we‘ll just have our own private party. You remember the transcript of George Jacobs' witchcraft trial in Salem. I think it’s in the wooden chest Mom left with us. I'll get it out while you get the candle."
"OK, but open the window a crack. It smells like your old shoes in here. I'll be right back." As Lynae opened Brent's bedroom door, the vacuum action between the open window and the opening door caused the candle to flare, then flicker. Something about the change in light startled Lynae. She stood frozen in her tracks. In the flicker of light Brent and Lynae could see that their surroundings change. They were back in New Mexico, and with them were many of the ancestors knew, along with some newcomers.
Right in front of them stood Diego de Trujillo, born 1612, with his wife, Catalina Vaszquez.
Alonso Baca had been a small baby when Brent and Lynae first visited Antonio’ s dinner table. Now, he was dressed in a captain's uniform just as he had when he lead a small exploratory expedition three hundred leagues into the eastern plains.
“Boy, this serial polygamy gets pretty complicated. Do you realize that this handful of ancestors intermarried so much that on a pedigree chart they would actually spread out to be over a thousand different people? I'm surprised we don't have six toes. Isn't that supposed to happen with interbreeding?"
"Don't be stupid, Lynae! There were laws that kept them from marrying first cousins or sobrinos.[1] In fact, some of the court cases were about that very thing, and the people had to prove that they were not blood relatives, but step children or adopted in order for their marriages to be legalized. But the really interesting cases were the witchcraft trials -- even in Santa Fé.”
"When the lights flickered and the room spun, I thought we were headed for Salem, Massachusetts, in 1692, but we’re back in New Mexico, before the Indian Rebellion, but after Diego's confession. So, my brilliant guide and Order of the Arrow Boy Scout, when are we?"
"Sixteen hundred and twenty-six, the year of our Lord," the judge stated as if in answer to Lynae's query. "Isabel Holguin, wife of Juan de Vitoria Carvajal, and daughter of Juan López Holguin y Catalina de Villanueva, you are accused of trafficking in magic roots. What is your plea?"
Isabel went pale. She knew clearly what the charges were, but how could she explain to this magistrate that the magic roots were no more than special plants that the Pueblos had used for centuries to cure infection and fever?
She stood speechless with downcast eyes. The gauzma shift she wore hung straight from her shoulders, the fringes drooping limply at her side.
"Hey, Judge, uh, your honor, we still like use those herbs in the twenty-first century. Slippery Elm and licorice root. . ."
"Shush, Lynae, we'll end up in prison with Isabel. If she can't explain magic roots, how are you going to explain being from four hundred years in the future? Just listen."
“But she was an ancestor. That means we have witchcraft on both sides of Mom’s family! Does it run in the family?”
“I guess you are proof enough of that.” Before Brent could become more sarcastic, the scene faded into another courtroom scene: "Hernando Marquez was serving the Crown as an Alferez soldier, but now he is dead this day in October, 1628." Hernando's brother Pedro was standing in court accusing a Mexican Indian woman, Beatriz, of causing Hernando’s death through witchcraft.
"Please tell the court about Hernando’s marital status, Pedro." Brent challenged. He was standing in the place of the attorney determined to serve as defense attorney for Beatriz.
"Hernando had been living in concubinage with Juana de la Cruz, but he moved out and spurned Juana," the witness answered nervously.
"Does this give you any indication of the moral standing of your brother Hernando, Pedro?" Brent asked confidently. "You seem to be very willing to accuse innocent women of practicing witchcraft when you and your brother are guilty of immorality -- this is factual, the witchcraft is illusionary -- you have tried to cover up your immorality by accusing these two poor women, Juana and Beatriz of practicing witchcraft. Just because Hernando is dead does not mean he was killed by witchcraft. What proof do you offer?" Brent was really getting into this lawyer thing. "Just how do you prove that Juana 'hexed' Hernando? I think without proof -- at least in the America I know -- Beatriz and Juana are innocent until proven guilty."
"Brent!" motioned Lynae. "This isn't the America you know. You better not say too much more, or they’ll be asking you questions.”
“Oops, I guess I got carried away with the moment. They’re not ancestors, as far as I know, but the case was so interesting, I was reading about it the other night.”
"Don't let this courtroom stuff go to your head, Brent. Just because Dad is a lawyer in the twentieth century doesn't make you one in the sixteenth. You better watch what you say. Here's another trial . . . just listen." Lynae hushed him, mimicking his usual command.
"But look at this one," Brent stated indignantly, "That governor thinks he has the right to boss everybody around. Don't they know about The Bill of Rights?"
"Brent, The Bill of Rights hasn't been written yet, and besides, it is Spain, not England, that is the Crown here."
"Francisco García Holgado was twenty-two in 1632 when he was in Santa Fé as a soldier; residence in Río Abajo near Isleta. He is the brother in law of José Nieto and Pedro de Leyva, and a weaver by trade but he was forbidden by Governor Lopez Mendízabal to make cloth for the Franciscans' habits. Boy a guy can't even weave cloth if he wants to help the monks dress."
Lynae looked across into what appeared to be the next courtroom. "It's Cousin Alonso! He got back safely from the expedition. He saved the colonies by uncovering a serious Indian plot, but now he is accused of conspiracy along with fourteen others and Governor Pacheco is demanding that all fourteen men be executed for it by beheading them.
"Yes, "Brent concurred sadly. "That’s how our friend and cousin Antonio died, 1643. But Alonso and three others escaped and gave up their encomedios. They left the area never to be heard from again." Our own don Fernando Durán y Chaves was one of the others that escaped. In 1646 he and his son don Agustin de Chaves, were in the soldier escort that brought a new governor don Luís de Guzman from Mexico City to Santa Fé. Don Fernando got into Governor Pacheco's good graces by attending the execution of eight of the conspirators in Santa Fe, July 21, 1643, and was appointed Alcalde by him. Then when Pacheco turned against the friars, don Fernando took the friars' side in the matter. Pacheco then condemned him and thirteen others to be executed for sedition."
"But unlike Alonso, he was able to come back," Lynae argued, reading the from Chaves book. "The next major issue, in starting in 1660, took place under the tenures of Governors Lopez Mendízabal and Peñalosa for the same reasons. At this time don Fernando Durán y Chaves was a Sargento Mayor. The crowing incident took place in August, 1663, when Peñalosa violated the right of
sanctuary by removing Fernando's brother, Pedro, from the Mission at Santo Domingo Pueblo and then imprisoned him in the Palace of the Governors with Fernando and Pedro's son, Cristóbal.”
"The courts were certainly brutal, but listen to this. At least women were recognized as important people under the Spanish Crown. They are able to testify in court, and inherit land from their husbands and pass it on to their children.“ That's something that didn't happen in the United States until the twentieth century,“ Brent read on:
“Juan Gonzalez Lobon eldest of the family, forty years old in 1660; henchman of Governor Lopez Mendizabal, a baiter of the friars who was described by them as a buffoon. Brother of Diego and Domingo Gonzalez Lobon; with sisters all living in Santa Fe. Antonia Gonzalez de Vitoria, sister of Diego Gonzalez Lobon and an aunt of a Pedro de Montoya; her full name shows her to be a part of the Carvajal family on her mothers side; native of Santa Fe, important witness concerning gubernatorial scandals in 1664, age forty-eight and a widow. In 1705 she was too old to recall her years -- that's a good excuse for not telling your age, funny that someone that age would even care!"
"Here's another lady: Luisa Ana Robledo, native of San Gabriel del Yunque, 1664, age 60 years old native of San Gabriel extraction. Daughter of Batolome Romero and Luisa Robledo: A woman of spirit, she stood up for her husband and family. The precious dresses of La Conquistadora were in her care. “Remember La Conquistadora at St. Francis in Santa Fe? We saw it on our visit there with Mom. We even got this post card of it!”
“I don't think she is on our pedigree chart, but, ¡way to go Luisa! I think she must have been a lot like our grandmothers, strong, assertive, courageous and outspoken. And they lived a long time too, those who lived, anyway. Do you know that Grandma Lucy turned eighty in January, and her sister Great-Auntie Lola is over ninety-two!"
“You sure inherited those traits, Lynae.” Brent reflected in one of his rare moments of admiration and emotion. “You know, every time we go on an adventure, you show more strength and courage than I ever imagined you could. I'm proud of you hermanita. You're a great sister. I bet you live to be at least one hundred and three."
"If I plan to live at all, we better get back to the nineties before Gina and Dad get back. If they find us burning a candle we'll have to listen to the stories about Cheryse nearly burning up in her bedroom with her candles.”
“Yeah, if Mom were here she'd tell us about when Doug about burned down the old farm house, but then went bravely in with the hose to put it out -- funny how he knew exactly where it was.
“That's one scene I'd like to visit, but poor Mom, she says she got hysterical and all she could do was cry that the house was burning down."
"Well, she'd been through a lot by then. After all, YOU were already born, and we'd moved back to the farm. But that was in another life. Come on, blow out the candle. I'll open the window a little more to get rid of the smell."
[1] nephews/neices
Political Intrigue
“This Governor Lopez Mendízabal must have been a real piece of work,” Lynae commented as she read the entries[1] involved hiding while the room aired out. “Listen to this:
Our own Andres Hurtado is first mentioned in 1661 as a capitan, 33 years old. He was born in the city of Zacatecas and was then living in the Sandia district. In 1664 he was captain of cavalry and also Syndic of the Franciscans. He was married to Bernadina de Salas y Orozco. When he held the encomiendas de Santa Ana and the neighboring pueblos, our ancestor Andres Hurtado was cruelly persecuted by the governor for his friendship with the friars – to punish him for being friends with and helping out the friars, not just him, but his whole family was forced to move from Sandia to Santa Fé in the dead of winter in 1661. He didn't live long enough to be involved in the 1680 Indian uprising.
“Here's another one of our guys, Brent offered, skimming ahead in the book, ignoring the reference to the uprising:
“Manuel Jorge was the son of the Greek Juan Jorge who was a worker in metals, which was his family trade. That would be a fun job, make horseshoes and armor and knives and guns.”
"Isn't that the Greek that knew that artist -- oh, what's his name?”
“Yeah, El Gréco, they probably grew up together in the same town in Spain. There was a show about him on PBS last summer.” Brent continued reading: Manuel Jorge, armorer or blacksmith imprisoned by Governor Mendízabal in 1661. Who knows what he was imprisoned for, playing a game of horseshoes with the governor's metal?”
“Chaves thinks his wife might have been a daughter of the family of Diego de Vera and Maria Ortíz.”
“Here's one smart ancestor, Pedro De Leyva, age fifty. In 1664, he managed to escape from Mendízabal's to Spain. He was born in El Valle de San Bartólome, in New Spain -- that would be Mexico City. He was promoted to Captain and Lieutenant Governor for the Salinas Pueblo district; his wife was Catalina García. This says he was a compadre of Diego Gonzalez Lobon -- that means they were either good friends or their kids married each other, and Gonzales Lobon whom he helped escape.”
“The governor didn't believe in extra wives, apparently. In 1669 he exiled Alonso Martin Barba for concubinage.”
“What's concubinage?" Lynae asked.
"When you’re older," Brent used his usual infuriating excuse not to explain.
"OK, I'm older now,” Lynae said after a brief pause, “so tell me now."
"You know how Solomon had many wives and concubines? That." Brent said, satisfied that it was a good enough explanation.
“By 1661 it says, poor Jorge is dead. His widow, Ana Baca, a sister of Antonio Jorge's wife, lived in her estancia del Alamo about four leagues from Santa Fe. Good old Governor Mendízabal couldn’t even leave the ladies alone, and berated her for being devoted to the Franciscans. He also tried to claim that she owed him money borrowed for her daughter's wedding.”
“That rebellion keeps coming up. I don’t want to go there; I don’t want to go there! I - don’t - want - to - go - there.” Brent chanted putting his hands over his ears to block out any words he might hear about it emphasizing each word the third time.
“It sure changed genealogy and history for the whole future.” Lynae continued shouting over his increasing volume. “How different things might have been for all of us if all those who were massacred or captured would have lived to have descendants.”
“Don Fernando Durán y Chaves,” Lynae chanted on, reveling in Brent’s apparent misery. “He died some years after, for in April, 1669, he is referred to as recently deceased. He might have died in an Indian expedition he led in 1668.”
Brent paged through the Chaves book looking for a change of subject. “Sebastian de Sandoval was an abusive individual who was murdered in Santa Fé in 1640 as a result of his open and continuous slanders against local citizens and their women. His talk about religious matters earned him an excommunication, so the question of his burial also created a public crisis; he was not a native of New Mexico, and he died before establishing himself as a colonist, if he ever intended to do so.”
Brent read the entry very fast and loud, ending in satisfaction as if he had managed to protect himself from thinking of the rebellion.
There were others who worked with our own family members in illicit trade with the Plains Indians. “Matias Romero was the second son of old Bartolome, most likely born before his parents reached New Mexico. He was an Alferez Real and also High Sheriff of Santa Fé in 1631 when he refused to testify against his brother in law, Gaspar Perez. His wife, Isabel de Padraza,was a cousin of María de Archuleta, wife of Juan Marquez. In 1644 he and Juan Gomez de Luna were accused not only of illicit trade and making captives for Governor Rosas. Matias died in Santa Fé about 1648.”
“Diego del Río de Losa was twenty-four years old when he witnessed the murder of Governor Rosas in Santa Fé, 1632.
“Shortly after that he was deeply involved in the Governor Rosas murder affair and was beheaded with other officers in 1643. In the 1642 trial other accomplice was named as Salazar Hachero. He was married and living in Santa Fé, but had been born in Mexico. This Salazar Hachero was the main ringleader in the anti-Rosas faction that caused the Governor's death. He also was the leader of the people who defied the Governor by barricading themselves with the friars at Santo Domingo Pueblo. His turbulent career ended on July 21, 1643, when he was beheaded with others in Santa Fe. His wife , Yumar Perez de Bustillo, was forty years old in 1631, was also born in Mexico in 1589, coming to New Mexico as a child with her parents.
“You remember Yumar, Brent, she was that pretty little thing you fell in love with in Santa Fe.”
“Don Fernando Durán y Cháves was embroiled in two major political crises, the first around the year 1640, and the second around 1669. The first was the Governor Rosas affair when he testified against him in favor of the friars.
“It’s a good thing they had kids before they were beheaded, or it would have ended the line there! Who else was beheaded for that murder?”
“Pacheco took over after the murder and ordered the execution of eight soldiers. Juan Ruiz de Hinojos, Juan Lujan II, Diego Márquez accused as a major accomplice, Diego Martín, Barba Nicolas Ortíz who actually murdered the Governor on January 25, 1642. Ortiz was sent to Mexico City for a final verdict, arrested on the way the governor of Nueva Vizcaya, and re-tried and sentenced to hang, but he escaped from prison and was not heard of again.”
“That’s why you like to call yourself Pacheco, you’re just as mean and cruel sometimes as he is.”
“Well, he’s not really an ancestor, how could he be? There appears to be no children by that marriage -- at least not in the records.”
[1] History and Origins
Our own Andres Hurtado is first mentioned in 1661 as a capitan, 33 years old. He was born in the city of Zacatecas and was then living in the Sandia district. In 1664 he was captain of cavalry and also Syndic of the Franciscans. He was married to Bernadina de Salas y Orozco. When he held the encomiendas de Santa Ana and the neighboring pueblos, our ancestor Andres Hurtado was cruelly persecuted by the governor for his friendship with the friars – to punish him for being friends with and helping out the friars, not just him, but his whole family was forced to move from Sandia to Santa Fé in the dead of winter in 1661. He didn't live long enough to be involved in the 1680 Indian uprising.
“Here's another one of our guys, Brent offered, skimming ahead in the book, ignoring the reference to the uprising:
“Manuel Jorge was the son of the Greek Juan Jorge who was a worker in metals, which was his family trade. That would be a fun job, make horseshoes and armor and knives and guns.”
"Isn't that the Greek that knew that artist -- oh, what's his name?”
“Yeah, El Gréco, they probably grew up together in the same town in Spain. There was a show about him on PBS last summer.” Brent continued reading: Manuel Jorge, armorer or blacksmith imprisoned by Governor Mendízabal in 1661. Who knows what he was imprisoned for, playing a game of horseshoes with the governor's metal?”
“Chaves thinks his wife might have been a daughter of the family of Diego de Vera and Maria Ortíz.”
“Here's one smart ancestor, Pedro De Leyva, age fifty. In 1664, he managed to escape from Mendízabal's to Spain. He was born in El Valle de San Bartólome, in New Spain -- that would be Mexico City. He was promoted to Captain and Lieutenant Governor for the Salinas Pueblo district; his wife was Catalina García. This says he was a compadre of Diego Gonzalez Lobon -- that means they were either good friends or their kids married each other, and Gonzales Lobon whom he helped escape.”
“The governor didn't believe in extra wives, apparently. In 1669 he exiled Alonso Martin Barba for concubinage.”
“What's concubinage?" Lynae asked.
"When you’re older," Brent used his usual infuriating excuse not to explain.
"OK, I'm older now,” Lynae said after a brief pause, “so tell me now."
"You know how Solomon had many wives and concubines? That." Brent said, satisfied that it was a good enough explanation.
“By 1661 it says, poor Jorge is dead. His widow, Ana Baca, a sister of Antonio Jorge's wife, lived in her estancia del Alamo about four leagues from Santa Fe. Good old Governor Mendízabal couldn’t even leave the ladies alone, and berated her for being devoted to the Franciscans. He also tried to claim that she owed him money borrowed for her daughter's wedding.”
“That rebellion keeps coming up. I don’t want to go there; I don’t want to go there! I - don’t - want - to - go - there.” Brent chanted putting his hands over his ears to block out any words he might hear about it emphasizing each word the third time.
“It sure changed genealogy and history for the whole future.” Lynae continued shouting over his increasing volume. “How different things might have been for all of us if all those who were massacred or captured would have lived to have descendants.”
“Don Fernando Durán y Chaves,” Lynae chanted on, reveling in Brent’s apparent misery. “He died some years after, for in April, 1669, he is referred to as recently deceased. He might have died in an Indian expedition he led in 1668.”
Brent paged through the Chaves book looking for a change of subject. “Sebastian de Sandoval was an abusive individual who was murdered in Santa Fé in 1640 as a result of his open and continuous slanders against local citizens and their women. His talk about religious matters earned him an excommunication, so the question of his burial also created a public crisis; he was not a native of New Mexico, and he died before establishing himself as a colonist, if he ever intended to do so.”
Brent read the entry very fast and loud, ending in satisfaction as if he had managed to protect himself from thinking of the rebellion.
There were others who worked with our own family members in illicit trade with the Plains Indians. “Matias Romero was the second son of old Bartolome, most likely born before his parents reached New Mexico. He was an Alferez Real and also High Sheriff of Santa Fé in 1631 when he refused to testify against his brother in law, Gaspar Perez. His wife, Isabel de Padraza,was a cousin of María de Archuleta, wife of Juan Marquez. In 1644 he and Juan Gomez de Luna were accused not only of illicit trade and making captives for Governor Rosas. Matias died in Santa Fé about 1648.”
“Diego del Río de Losa was twenty-four years old when he witnessed the murder of Governor Rosas in Santa Fé, 1632.
“Shortly after that he was deeply involved in the Governor Rosas murder affair and was beheaded with other officers in 1643. In the 1642 trial other accomplice was named as Salazar Hachero. He was married and living in Santa Fé, but had been born in Mexico. This Salazar Hachero was the main ringleader in the anti-Rosas faction that caused the Governor's death. He also was the leader of the people who defied the Governor by barricading themselves with the friars at Santo Domingo Pueblo. His turbulent career ended on July 21, 1643, when he was beheaded with others in Santa Fe. His wife , Yumar Perez de Bustillo, was forty years old in 1631, was also born in Mexico in 1589, coming to New Mexico as a child with her parents.
“You remember Yumar, Brent, she was that pretty little thing you fell in love with in Santa Fe.”
“Don Fernando Durán y Cháves was embroiled in two major political crises, the first around the year 1640, and the second around 1669. The first was the Governor Rosas affair when he testified against him in favor of the friars.
“It’s a good thing they had kids before they were beheaded, or it would have ended the line there! Who else was beheaded for that murder?”
“Pacheco took over after the murder and ordered the execution of eight soldiers. Juan Ruiz de Hinojos, Juan Lujan II, Diego Márquez accused as a major accomplice, Diego Martín, Barba Nicolas Ortíz who actually murdered the Governor on January 25, 1642. Ortiz was sent to Mexico City for a final verdict, arrested on the way the governor of Nueva Vizcaya, and re-tried and sentenced to hang, but he escaped from prison and was not heard of again.”
“That’s why you like to call yourself Pacheco, you’re just as mean and cruel sometimes as he is.”
“Well, he’s not really an ancestor, how could he be? There appears to be no children by that marriage -- at least not in the records.”
[1] History and Origins
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