In the spring quarter of 1961, Jiggs Snyder, my archeology friend and colleague, came into my office haggard and desperate. He had married the daughter of a rich oil family from Bartlesville, Oklahoma. His wife, unable to accept living on her husband's salary, constantly bombarded her father with requests for money to buy furniture, cars, and appliances. Poor Jiggs was forced to do the housework that his wife refused to do and to care for their family of girls. Suddenly, his wife announced that she wanted a divorce and promptly ran off to her family in Oklahoma. Jiggs, in our last year in Las Vegas, deprived of his children, drank heavily. Weston, Perrigo, and I covered his classes while trying to sober him up. Unfortunately, the silly wife of a member of the Board of Regents reported his numerous class absences. He was promptly fired.
He vanished from the school. I went to his apartment with a student, broke the lock, and entered to find Jiggs lying on the bed, holding a rifle to his head, dead drunk. A student from the east helped me load Jiggs into his car with his few belongings and drove him to his parent's home back in Pennsylvania. I heard later that, due to neglect and sorrow for her father, one of his daughters died in Bartlesville. Jiggs apparently taught high school in Florida, then sometime after we had left, returned to teach in Santa Fe, dying later from a heart attack.
For many months I had been impressed by the personality and capability of a mature Spanish‑American senior, Larry Padilla, who had enrolled in most of my classes. A quiet, shy, modest, very intellectual boy, he had helped me gain entry into several Spanish‑American villages. We discussed Spanish‑American history, culture, and problems with a group of Spanish‑American students who regularly came to my office after class. Graduating, he wanted to go to graduate school, but did not have the money. I hired him as my graduate assistant and went to President Donnelly to confirm the position. Donnelly refused to permit me to give him a position, accusing the boy of being anti‑ Anglo. I exploded in wrath and indignation at the thought that I could not choose my own graduate assistant. Larry did not go to graduate school, but found employment in the State Department of Public Welfare.
Warren Weston and I drove to Denver in March, 1960, to attend the meetings of the very small new Rocky Mountain Social Science Association, originating from a merging of the Colorado and Wyoming Academies of Arts and Sciences. I read a paper on the patron‑peon system in New Mexico. I revised it and submitted it to Social Forces, who accepted it for publication‑‑my first in a professional journal. I also received news from Florestan Fernandez that he had arranged for the translation of my dissertation into Portuguese and had it published by Anhambi Press.
Warren Weston informed me that he was leaving Highlands at the end of the summer quarter, having accepted a position at the Denver Metropolitan College. Ruth and I hated to see them go. On July 8, he was knocked out with measles for three weeks. I picked up one of his classes and Perrigo the other. Donnelly cancelled the arrangements, stating that Weston would have to pay me $100 and Perrigo $100. I told both Perrigo and Donnelly that I would not accept the $100 under any conditions, stating that the action was spiteful and malicious. Ultimately, Weston got his full salary and left for Denver.
On May 14, 1960, Ann Elizabeth Knowlton was born, a Downs Syndrome baby. The birth came as quite a shock to both Ruth and me. Ruth's mother came to be with us during the birth. Later her father and two nieces, Kathryn and Caroline Call, came down. They were with us for around two weeks.
Now comes the story of the White House Conference on Aging. In the fall of 1959, I joined a small group of university faculty, local social workers, and townspeople to study the socio‑economic conditions of the senior citizens of San Miguel County. I concentrated upon the older Spanish‑Americans so often isolated in half‑abandoned villages, with most of their children living outside of New Mexico. Our little group sent into state headquarters a superior county report. As a result, Kay Rose Wood, the governor's assistant in charge, asked me to serve as chairman of the state editorial committee charged with preparing the state's report to Washington. I worked very hard pressuring the people assigned to write sections to get their work to me. I finally had to write three sections of the report myself.
I suggested to Kay that we include specific sections in the report on the unique problems of older Spanish‑Americans and American Indians. She thought that it was a good idea and mentioned it to Governor Burroughs, who strongly opposed it. He said that neither he nor any member of his staff would permit anyone to write about these two groups as distinctive groups in New Mexico. It was not acceptable to even admit that they might differ from the Anglo‑Americans in any way. Pointing out that they differed substantially, I demanded an explanation. The governor's staff told me that they did not want anyone to say anything, to do anything, or to print anything that might "rock the ethnic boat" in New Mexico. Saying nothing, I smuggled considerable material on the Spanish‑Americans into the report in the section on rural people. Leaving the governor's office, I firmly resolved that someday I would give the boat a good rocking.
My frustrations with the Las Vegas branch sharply increased. Stake high councilmen constantly visited the branch to see if I was using Spanish and to put more pressure on me to pay our share of the stake budget, which we could not do with our impoverished congregation. I suggested that we be separated from the stake and returned to the mission. They would not accept this. Because of the malicious tongues of the Tillies and other Anglo members, Spanish‑American attendance began to drop. To compensate for this, I organized a series of small family home meetings in Spanish which worked out quite well. Then, to add to my problem, the missionaries converted the town drunk. He stayed sober several months and then relapsed. His wife would call me invariably in the middle of the night to come hold his hand.
Fortunately, the beginning of the fall quarter in 1960 brought in new members from Salt Lake City‑‑the Hampshires, the Clair Seeley's, and the Carl McDaniels‑‑all very active Church members. Brother Hampshire, now in his seventies, worked as chief machinist at the parachute plant. Clair was in charge of the local office of the Farm Home Administration and Carl had a scholarship for one year in the department of physical science at Highlands. The branch now began to operate smoothly. I gradually let them handle the Anglo‑American members, while I concentrated upon the Spanish‑Americans, who meant so much to me. We had many parties, picnics, and social affairs to raise branch morale during the school year, 1960‑61.
On September 24, 1960, Ruth and I drove to Albuquerque. While she and the children visited the zoo, I attended the State White House Conference on Income Maintenance at the University of New Mexico, sponsored by the State Department of Public Welfare and Health. I had been asked to co‑sponsor a session on the New Mexican Village with Julian Romero of the State Employment Security Commission. I presented a paper in which I argued that the village should be the unit of planning and policy making rather than the individual in northern New Mexico. Audience reaction to my paper was very favorable. I made many new friends, such as Arthur Blumfield, Bureau of Business Research, University of New Mexico; Donald Crow, Veteran's Administration; Samuel Zeigler, State Department of Public Health; and many more. I was surprised to note that doctors present at our sessions tried to turn each discussion into an attack on public medicine. We were able to take the children to the state fair before returning to Las Vegas.
As the end of the year approached, I asked Perrigo about tenure. He said that the topic had been discussed in administrative circles. Dean Burris was opposed and Donnelly wondered whether or not my hostility toward him might hamper my performance at the university. Perrigo felt that I had developed a statewide reputation as a result of my activities. I made the point that I could work with the university administration provided that they respected me and gave me autonomy in my activities in the community. Much to my surprise, I was granted tenure.
Robert Simmons had returned to Highlands. He was restless and unhappy. He and I organized a Young Democrat Club among students and became quite active in local democratic party circles. I made a number of speeches in favor of John Kennedy and the local democratic ticket. We were able, through our students, to capture the vote in several local precincts.
Jimmy Bustamonte, a local businessman and county representative in the state legislature, invited Horacio Ulibarri, a college colleague and friend, and me to a political meeting in San Jose, San Miguel County. As we walked into the large meeting, David Montoya, county senator, was speaking in Spanish. He denounced our presence, claiming that we were spies from Highlands University and had no right to be there. Unaware that I understood Spanish, he came over to welcome me profusely when he finished, offering to translate the proceedings. Bustamonte defended us indignantly, pointing out that we were friends of the Spanish‑American people. Montoya translated his remarks fairly accurately. When Jimmy finished, he insisted that I speak in Spanish. I gave a fiery political speech that drew applause. When Montoya heard me speaking in Spanish, he sneaked out the back door. He and I later became close friends. Through him, I met Ronald "Tiny" Martinez, one of the political bosses of San Miguel County, and gradually gained entry into his group of educational and political leaders in San Miguel County. I received a thorough orientation to the tough, vicious, corrupt political system in the state of New Mexico.
Tiny was one of the most intelligent men I met in New Mexico. One judge remarked to me that he had one of the finest legal minds in the state, but he was a heavy drinker. I was struck by the fact that so many intelligent, well‑educated Spanish‑American professional and businessmen were destroyed by alcoholism. One told me that they had to work so hard to survive and to progress in the Anglo‑American dominated legal, political, and economic system in which they were handicapped and thwarted by subtle discrimination at all levels, that they became exhausted and despondent.
Just before the Republican governor, Mechem, (a man whom I detested as representing the worst elements in New Mexican politics) was inaugurated on the first of January, I was named by Governor Burroughs, the losing Democratic governor, as one of 17 New Mexican delegates to Eisenhower's White House Conference on Aging, receiving tickets, travel reservations, etc. Ruth and I spent Christmas with our families in Utah. Upon my return to Las Vegas, I mailed off an article on social change in the Spanish‑American villages to Sociology and Social Research, who accepted it for publication. I felt quite contented and happy. Walking home from my office on January 3, I was accosted by Dr. Virginia Sloan, a professor of economics on campus and fellow delegate, who was quite upset and indignant. She asked if I had received a telegram from Governor Mechem. I replied, puzzled, that I had not. She read me hers, which said, "Your position as delegate to the White House Conference on Aging has been cancelled. Please return your ticket," signed Robert Hintze, Head of the State Department of Public Welfare. I called Roger Calloway of the Welfare Department, who, in despair, said the governor had eliminated almost all of the delegates from northern New Mexico, especially Democrats and Spanish Americans, replacing most of us with doctors and their allies from Albuquerque, who wanted to mount a drive against the consideration of public health programs at the Washington conference. Racing home, I found my telegram. Indignant and angry, I called every major Republican and Democratic politician in New Mexico to explain the situation. I next called every important paper and television station in the state, criticizing the governor for injecting politics into the White House conference. The next morning I called President Eisenhower's office in Washington, D.C., as well as the offices of the New Mexican congressional delegation. By that night, a blizzard of adverse media reports and criticism of the governor swept the state. I refused to give up my ticket as demanded by the governor's office, and said to all and sundry that I planned to go, come what may.
Ruth, being in great pain on January 5, 1961, was taken to the doctor, who told us that she had to have an operation for a rectal ulcer. I called Salt Lake City and made arrangements. I then drove Ruth and the children to Moab, meeting her parents there. They drove her to Salt Lake City while I traveled very leisurely towards Las Vegas. I spent the night in Chama. The next morning, as I was entering Espanola, I was stopped by a state police officer, who told me that I should return at once to Las Vegas. Washington had refused to accept Mechem's delegation as a voting delegation. They could attend the conference, but could not vote as our delegation was the only one recognized by Washington. I bought papers to catch up on the news and then drove as fast as I could to Las Vegas.
I found that Robert Simmons and Lynn Perrigo had made a train reservation for me, secured money for my trip, and even packed my bag. As I finished eating an early breakfast, my good friend, Reverend Roy Carpenter, the Presbyterian minister from Mora, came up in a taxi. As a replaced delegate, he also intended to go on to Washington. I had Bob wire Washington that Carpenter was coming. We climbed aboard the train to join our delegation. We held a victory celebration all the way to Washington, D.C. As no sleeping accommodations could be found for Roy and I, we placed the backs of chairs across two other chairs and, requesting bedding, slept quite well. Arriving in Washington, D.C., we retreated from the high cost of hotel accommodations and found a small hotel not much above the level of a flophouse, where we could stay two days for $6.00.
We cleaned up, changed clothes, and then caught a taxi to the Statler Hilton to register for the conference. We found that a Mechem delegate had registered as Roy Carpenter. We literally threw him out of the hotel and out of the conference. I was assigned to the section on "Education For and About Old People." Each delegate could make one recommendation. My recommendation was that cultural and regional variations be considered in planning programs for senior citizens. My recommendation, after some debate, was accepted by the entire conference‑‑one of the few that got by. I felt quite happy about it all. I called Ruth, who told me that Roy Carpenter and I had our photographs on the front page of the Albuquerque Journal.
The next day we attended our meetings and then took off to visit Senator Montoya and Congressman Morris to talk about the problems of the people of northern New Mexico. We also went through the museums and art galleries. On our way home, we held a press conference at Wagon Mound to give the reporters our account of the conference, the first news they had received. We ended our press conference with an attack on Governor Mechem.
Returning to the university, I was called for my opinion on the conference by many local newspapers. Much to my amusement, I found that I now had state recognition, and from a nobody had become a somebody. I chuckled at it all, but I rejoiced at the thought that I had defeated Mechem in the first act of his administration. Much to my surprise, I received a letter from the head of the Social Science Division, University of Texas at El Paso, offering me the position of Head of the Department of Sociology. Letters urging me to accept the position came from my old friends, William Fisher and Marion Cline, who had gone to El Paso to join the college of education. I wrote back asking for particulars and then forgot about the matter. I drove up to Salt Lake City on February 12, 1961, to pick up my family and our lives slowly returned to normal.
Shortly after the spring quarter of 1961 began, another scandal broke over the campus. A newly hired faculty member in our division from Missouri began to invited selected guests to his home to play poker. After plying them with drinks, the game turned to strip poker and ended with an exchange of mates for the night. One of our graduate students, married to a beautiful Spanish‑ American girl, invited the Gordons, along with the rest of the division, to a party at his home. Towards the end of the party, I heard gunshots and ran outside to see the graduate student firing at a figure zooming away into the darkness. The graduate student, swearing to kill Gordon, told us that Gordon and his wife got the student and his wife aside and suggested an exchange of wives. The shocked student, a devout Protestant, grabbed his shotgun from the wall and opened fire. The Gordons vanished into the darkness, leaving us shorthanded for the quarter.
The next major event was the formation of the San Miguel County Area Development Committee in February of 1961. Robert Simmons and I had followed closely the passage of President Kennedy's anti‑poverty program. We swiftly organized a local committee, composed of Robert Simmons; Virginia Sloan, Highlands economist; Horace Ulibarri, Highlands faculty member; Dale Gerdemon, Town banker; Eloy Lundi, head of the County Office of the State Employment Commission; Tom Clark, superintendent of the Las Vegas City School System; Larry Finch, editor of the local newspaper, The Optic; and a few others whose names I do not now remember. I had the misfortune of being selected chairman. Dale Gerdemon vice‑chairman.
Once our committee was fully formed, I wrote to the Commerce Department, Washington, D.C., to ascertain what we must do to participate in the program. As the first committee formed in New Mexico, we were told that our committee must be fully representative of the population elements of the county, which it was. Then we must write a preliminary report to the Department of Commerce describing the socio‑economic conditions of the county, the causes of its poverty, followed by recommendations for the improvement of local economic conditions. To broaden the scope of our committee, we formed a technical advisory committee, composed of trained personnel from federal and state agencies and local professional people, to provide us with technical advice and to review our work for accuracy and workability.
County delegations from all over New Mexico came to our committee for assistance in setting up their own county committees. My enthusiasm was muted when I discovered that in several northern New Mexico counties the area redevelopment committees were bitterly attacked by county agents and other personnel of the Department of Agriculture. To discover the reasons for their hostility, several members of our committee were detailed to invite a group of county agents to a party, get them drunk, and find the causes of their hostility to area redevelopment committees. We learned that the local personnel of the Department of Agriculture had been ordered by their Washington office to thwart the work of the area redevelopment committees in rural counties. It seemed that the Department of Agriculture had an ongoing program of rural development that no one in New Mexico had heard of.
The work of our committee was briefly interrupted by the activities of "Billboards" Gordon Melody, a San Miguel County State Senator, given the nickname for his constant defense of billboard interests in the state legislature. A number of the law faculty of the University of New Mexico had signed a petition urging the abolishment of the Congressional House Un-American Activities Committee that appeared in newspapers around the state. As a result, a group of insurance agents, small businessmen, doctors, and ministers from Roswell and Alamogordo supported by Melody appeared before a state senatorial committee urging that the Committee investigate the influence of Communism in New Mexico's universities and colleges. As representative of our local chapter of the A.A.U.P., Bob and I were requested to present the opposition of the chapter to any such hearings.
Faculty, university administrators, and student representatives from all over the state appeared to denounce such an investigation on the grounds that it would become a dangerous witch hunt. Both Robert Simmons and I gave impassioned statements protesting the formation of an investigative committee. An angry woman from Roswell swung at us with an umbrella. Finally, Fabian Chavez, committee chairman, one of the finest political leaders in New Mexico, said that he had had enough. He would not permit the universities and colleges ‑‑so important to the future of New Mexico‑‑to be devastated by such an investigation and recommended that the subject be dropped, which it was. This was my first experience with the rigid, paranoid, suspicious, accusatorial characteristics of many angry groups in eastern New Mexico that ultimately found a home in the John Birch Society.
Shortly after our trip to Santa Fe, a fine friend, Horacio Ulibarri, came to see me, depressed and bitter. The head of the Division of Education, Dr. Sinigar, had died suddenly. Horacio had been asked by President Donnelly to submit his bid for the position. He did so. Months passed and he heard nothing. I finally suggested that he see President Donnelly. He did so and was told that the position had been given to an Anglo‑American professor from off‑campus some time ago, as Donnelly did not think that Anglo‑American faculty would work under a Spanish‑American chairman. After I left, Horacio transferred to the University of New Mexico.
The Department of Commerce informed our area redevelopment committee that San Miguel County had been selected as one of the eight counties in the nation for a pilot experimental food stamp program. We were delighted. The bankers supported the program as bankers handled the food stamps for the government at a profit. Small businessmen were extremely happy, as were the city and county officials. The population of the county increased somewhat as people moved to San Miguel County from neighboring counties to participate in the program. My position as chairman of a committee that had brought thousands of dollars into the county was sharply enhanced in the county and in the state. I was quietly asked if I might be persuaded to run for city council or the state legislature. I replied that I would have to explore the possibilities with the university administration and with my wife.
Early in March I received a telegram from Mr. Slaughter, Regional Government Officer in charge of experimental food stamp programs in the south‑ west. The telegram from his Dallas office advised us that Governor Mechem was in the process of withdrawing San Miguel County from the food stamp program. I hurriedly called our committee into session to plan a counter‑offensive. Dale Gerdemon called the state bankers and requested their assistance. I contacted every prominent state political figure, both Democrat and Republican, Anglo‑American and Spanish‑American, as well as the congressional delegation in Washington. Cap Parkinson, manager of Penny's, got in touch with prominent businessmen throughout the state. As a result, Mechem ceased his efforts within a week.
On March 28, 1961, I returned home from school to find Robert Simmons there. He had heard that a group of government officials from the Department of Agriculture wanted to sponsor a conference on the food stamp program for grocers, bankers, and interested businessmen in San Miguel County. We secured permission from President Donnelly to host the meeting on campus. The next day, Mr. Hintz, the State Welfare director, a Mr. Davis from the Department of Agriculture in charge of the food program, and Mr. Bryson and Mr. Kline from the Dallas office of the Department of Agriculture explained the food stamp program in some detail to those assembled. I chaired the sessions. We received publicity from all over the state.
I took my family to Salt Lake City to attend the April conference. Several weeks later I loaded up my station wagon with Abraham Plummer, Rachel Garcia, and Juanita Patrick, members of the Indian Student Club, and drove to Norman, Oklahoma. Joe Baca and Joe Louis Jimenez followed us in another car. Our students put on a panel discussion on culture relationships as part of the program of the Southwestern Indian Youth Conference on the campus of the University of Oklahoma. They did very well. I enjoyed the conference, the speeches, the discussions, the dances, and the opportunities I had to meet and talk to young Indians from Oklahoma. Our Indian students found it difficult to accept the lighter‑skinned, mixed‑blood Cherokees, Creeks, and Choctaw as real Indians.
Several weeks later I was asked by Senator Dennis Chavez if our area redevelopment committee would sponsor an area development seminar in which representatives of government agencies involved in the anti‑poverty program could meet people from New Mexico to discuss local economic conditions. The seminar began on May 22, and lasted until May 24. Thirty‑one government representatives attended the meeting. I chaired all the sessions. Telegrams were received from President Kennedy and Senator Anderson praising our committee. Although we had full cooperation from the local business and political leaders around the state, the state government ignored us. I might add that Ruth and Lynn June Simmons had enrolled in a series of ceramics classes at the university. Ruth demonstrated a startling talent.
Robert Simmons would be leaving Las Vegas towards the middle of summer for the University of Washington. His request for a leave of absence to finish up his doctorate had been turned down by Donnelly. Having given up their house, they rented our apartment for the first summer semester, as I had accepted an offer of a first summer semester position at the University of Texas at El Paso. We left Las Vegas on June 3, and drove happily down to El Paso, exploring new country. We arrived in El Paso around 6:00 p.m. and parked the car in front of the residence of Shirley Gonzales, a student assistant to Dr. Strickland, head of the Social Sciences Division. Shirley had married Andy Gonzales, a thriving lawyer, active member of the Church, and the son of a Mexican father (a patriarch in the El Paso Stake) and an Anglo mother, both from the Mormon colonies in Mexico. Andy rented a small, furnished house on Trowbridge Street in east El Paso for us. After we had unpacked our bags and prepared supper, Shirley came by with her children. Leaving the children, she drove us over the magnificent, hill campus of Texas Western College, later the University of Texas at El Paso. The campus buildings were all constructed in the Bhutanese monastery architecture, the legacy of a mining engineer who had worked in Bhutan. I liked the campus. Shirley drove us over the bridge to Juarez.
The next day, Sunday, we went to church at the Douglas Street Chapel. Much to my surprise, I was asked to teach the young marrieds class. It felt good to be in a regular ward. I gave a sigh of relief when I remembered that I was no longer president of the Las Vegas branch. After church we explored El Paso. I did not like the sulpher smell from the refinery that drifted over the campus nor the smell of oil in the Isleta area. But I did like the way that Mt. Franklin cut like a knife into the heart of the city. Going to bed that night, Ruth and I both felt that we would have an interesting summer.
Monday morning, Shirley picked me up at six o'clock and drove me to the campus. I had long conversations with both Dr. Strickland and Dr. Sonnichsen. I had two fairly large classes‑‑Introductory Sociology and Social Problems. My students were about two‑thirds Anglo‑American and one‑third Mexican‑American. I felt good at the enrollment as I was told that, usually, very few students took sociology. After dinner, Ruth and I drove through the diverse Mexican‑ American neighborhoods (or barrios) of El Paso. I looked at them rather pensively. They were quite different from the adobe villages of northern New Mexico.
The following Saturday, June 17, 1962, Ruth and I drove downtown, parked the car, and took the trolley to the center of Juarez. The three boys quite enjoyed their first streetcar ride. We walked over to the business district. It resembled the central business districts of many Latin American cities and I felt quite at home in the Spanish‑speaking environment. Long lines of street vendors, shopkeepers coming out on the sidewalk to entice customers, the heavy smell of diesel fuel as busses started and stopped, the numerous cafes, restaurants, and bars, pompous police officers strutting down the streets, and numerous dawdling soldiers eyeing the girls reminded me of Argentina and Brazil. We visited the old cathedral and mission. Before returning to El Paso, I bought several newspapers in Spanish.
After church the next day, we visited the San Elizario, Yseleta, and Socorro American Communities. We also drove slowly through the cotton fields and pecan groves that reminded us of Georgia. But, alas, there were no Georgia watermelons. We returned home and I worked until late. I systematically read through the college library holdings on southwestern history, taking extensive notes.
On Saturday, July 1, 1961, Ruth and I decided to take the family to the Carlsbad Caverns. We encountered virtually no traffic all the way to Carlsbad. I loved the mockingbirds, the ground doves, the quail, and the pugnacious road runners that we saw running here and there through the mesquite and ocotillo. I was quite impressed by the caverns. Keith rode my shoulder, alternating with Daniel. The caverns were enchanting. We bought slides and a book on the flora of the southwest. Going into Carlsbad from the caverns, we stopped at a light. As we waited, a car driven by a drunk sped down the center of the road, turned suddenly into another car, and wound up in a pile of shattered glass on the inside of a business establishment. I reminded myself that Carlsbad is part of little Texas in eastern New Mexico.
The next day I met Brother and Sister Lorin Jones, who had served as county agents in San Miguel County, New Mexico, for many years during the 1920s. He had also been mission president of the Spanish‑American mission for many years when it covered the entire Southwest. He told me that the Mexican‑ American members of the church in El Paso suffered from prejudice and discrimination at the hands of the Anglo‑American members, although much of it was subconscious and unthinking. I immediately liked Brother and Sister Jones. I went with the Jones to many meetings of the Mexican‑American ward. After driving my family home, I met Chuck Krop, who took me on a tour of the extremely impoverished barrios, or colonias of poverty, in Juarez.
My six weeks ended on July 14, 1961. Saturday morning, we packed our car and left El Paso for Las Vegas with some regrets. On the way, we stopped at the Gran Quivira National Monument. As I heard the breeze flowing through the ruins, I thought of the Pueblo Indians, the Spanish priests and the Apache Indians. It was as though I was having a subconscious dialogue with them. I suddenly understood New Mexico much better.
The morning after our return, our family went to church. The attendance had increased as new Mormon families had come into town‑‑some to attend summer programs at Highlands and others as employees of government agencies and of private corporations. The Tillies and others who had caused so many problems receded into the background. The new branch president, Vandiver, had been called on a mission by the stake presidency to head our branch. He did his best under difficult circumstances, but, unfortunately, most of the Spanish‑ American members of the church drifted into inactivity.
The fall quarter began in an interesting way. Teaching a graduate seminar in juvenile delinquency, I had invited a red‑headed gang leader by the name of Martinez to my seminar to discuss the causes of juvenile delinquency in Las Vegas and the social functions of gangs. During the past several years, I had come to know many local gangs, or perhaps I might say territorial groupings, of young Spanish‑American males in the low income sections of the two communities and had developed some rather interesting friendships.
Hearing that I had invited a gang leader to speak to my class, many faculty members wanted to attend, among them the head of the business division. I permitted them to come, providing they preserved the confidentiality of what was said. Martinez gave a fine presentation. One student asked him how he and his gang earned money. He said that they stole portable property. He mentioned breaking into the division of business and making off with several typewriters and business machines. The head of the business division jumped to his feet in a rage, shouting that he was going to call the police. I calmed him down. However, I did managed to get pawn tickets for the machines and gave them to him.
One of the students was a very lovely, well‑groomed, attractive Spanish‑ American girl from Española. She came to my office to tell me that she had been the leader of a girl gang in Española and would like to write a term paper about her experiences. I gave her permission and then questioned her at length. She said that her sister had been made pregnant by a high school boy in Española who, violating Spanish‑American custom, refused to marry the girl, thus dishonoring her. She called her girlfriends together and, armed with clubs and knives, attacked the boy, sending him to the hospital. They then formed a gang to punish boys who mistreated girls. She said that they carefully planned and timed their assaults in such a way as to catch boys off‑guard. As time went on, they openly challenged many male gangs that simply could not bring themselves to rumble with a girl gang. Looking at this lovely, well‑dressed, 19 year‑old Spanish‑American girl, I simply could not believe what she was telling me. I checked her story and found it to be true.
I was asked at this time to teach a night extension class in Mora, New Mexico. I drove over there through lovely country every Saturday morning. My students were mature Mora elementary and high school teachers who could renew their certificates by taking extension courses in sociology, psychology, and education. The class was scheduled to last four hours each Saturday. I taught for several hours, then suggested that we have refreshments. During the second half of the class, I asked them questions about Mora, its history, its people, and about Spanish‑American customs. They noticed that I brought sandwiches to eat and began to invite me to lunch. I pointed out that I knew little about Spanish‑American cuisine and suggested that we buy the ingredients for one or more ladies to prepare typical Spanish‑American dishes each class day. They enthusiastically accepted the idea and I learned about the incredible richness of Spanish‑American cookery. I left Mora with deep regret when the class ended and got into the habit of driving over there often to visit my friends.
On July 19, 1961, Sister Coca called me to tell me that her poor, blind husband was dying of stomach cancer in the Santa Fe Hospital. No one from Las Vegas had notified me of his problems while we were in El Paso. I hastily picked her up and drove her to Santa Fe. Brother Coca had been opened up and then sewed up. His body was filled with cancer. The doctor told me that if they had been able to operate a few months earlier, they might have prolonged his life. I left the hospital in a rage at the State Department of Public Welfare that had refused to permit an earlier operation.
During my six weeks' absence, the San Miguel County Area Redevelopment Committee had lapsed into dormancy. I contacted Dick Cavanaugh, now president of the city Chamber of Commerce, and other members of the committee and called them back to work. At the suggestion of our technical panel, I called representatives of many of the federal agencies to our meetings to secure ideas about how to reduce poverty in San Miguel County. I was quite disappointed in their responses. They knew little about the area under their jurisdiction. I remember the answer of the representatives of the U.S. Corp of Army Engineers when asked about the possibilities of building a series of small irrigation dams on the Pecos and other streams in the county to provide better irrigation facilities for Spanish‑American villages said, "If we could build one large dam and if the people could support it (which they could not), we would do it, but we are not in the business of building small dams."
The agricultural potential of the Spanish‑American villages in the river valley of northern New Mexico would be greatly enhanced by the development of permanent diversion dams rather than the brush and rock dams built by the village inhabitants. The Anglo‑American sections of the state have benefited enormously from the building of federal reclamation projects that cost thousands of Spanish‑American their lands. The state legislature passed an act authorizing the state to provide technical assistance and construction equipment to Spanish‑American villages willing to provide labor and raw materials. Some of the Pecos River villages did so before Anglo legislators managed to get the bill repealed in the next state legislature. Overt and subtle acts of discrimination against the Spanish‑Americans mark almost every aspect of New Mexican life.
Towards the end of the summer quarter, the Mechem administration stirred up another storm in New Mexico. The State Board of Finance, on the pretext that there might be a deficit in the state budget, secured legislation to roll back the salaries of all state employees, including public school and university teachers (in spite of signed contracts) to the level of last year. Robert Simmons and I immediately organized a faculty group to fight the rollback while our president went fishing. The president of New Mexico State rolled back all salaries as ordered, but President Popejoy of the University of New Mexico publicly denounced the legislation and refused to roll back any salaries at the University of New Mexico. Instead, he went to court and secured a court ruling that the state, after accepting signed contracts from university faculty, could not unilaterally rescind them. Our inadequate stipends were saved. I found out later from state employees that the legislation was a deliberate slap at public employees and teachers by the Mechem people. There was no shortage of public funds.
My work as chairman of the San Miguel County Area Redevelopment Committee took me all over northern New Mexico. I visited almost every Spanish‑American village of any size to talk to the people about area redevelopment. The inhabitants were most eager to utilize their talents and abilities to form committees and to secure federal technical and financial assistance to improve their economic systems. Our dialogue would inevitably begin in English and then shift to Spanish. I came to know the personnel of most of the federal and state agencies in New Mexico. Some officials, such as Peter Van Dresser of the State Planning Office and Drew Cloud of the Farm Home Improvement Agency, became personal friends.
Peter and I called together representatives from the majority of the county area redevelopment committees to organize a regional committee entitled "The Committee for the Economic and Social Development of Northern New Mexico." I served as chairman, Jack Flynn as co‑chairman, and Peter Van Dresser as head of research and development. Our board was composed of Paul Frank from Santa Fe, Ricardo Pino from the State Extension Service, Reverend Paul Stevens from Santa Fe, Harold Busey from Las Alamos, John Reed from Taos, Don E. Hopkins from the State Planning Office, Peter Baca from Mora County, Mathias Martinez from Taos, and others. We worked extremely hard to coordinate county area redevelopment committees, to assist each county committee to prepare their report, and to present a unified approach to federal and state agencies that, in the past, had played one county off against the other. Shortly after I left New Mexico, the organization collapsed, much to my regret. It could have become a powerful force for the improvement of economic and social conditions in the distressed region of Northern New Mexico.
As the summer quarter ended and the fall quarter began, our county area committee worked closely with the Las Vegas Chamber of Commerce to develop a local investment committee called LAVADELCO to raise funds to help local industry. The investment committee, once incorporated, began to sell bonds and raised a few thousand dollars. It met with an enthusiastic reception from the business community. It was another potentially important effort that died with my departure from the state.
As a result of my work, I was asked to become a board member of the New Mexico Conference of Social Welfare, composed of professionals from all over the state. The board held annual conferences to discuss social and economic problems of New Mexico. The annual sessions attracted a widespread audience from all over the state. I read papers and managed to get sessions on the needs and problems of the Spanish‑American and American Indians in the state incorporated into the annual programs. I thoroughly enjoyed my work with the Conference. When I left for El Paso, they refused to accept my resignation and I remained active for several years.
During the fall of 1961, our committee worked extremely hard accumulating data for our preliminary report on the causes of poverty in San Miguel County and suggestions for improving local economic conditions. Our technical panel was extremely useful in both uncovering sources of data and in making recommendations for improvement. Dr. Virginia Sloan, economist at New Mexico Highlands, was elected editor of the report committee. I learned much about poverty among the Spanish‑American people, their subordination to the dominant Anglo‑American establishment in the state, and the failure of both state and federal agencies to provide much assistance. Because of the growing public interest in our work, I accepted numerous invitations in San Miguel County and elsewhere in the state to discuss the area redevelopment program and the work of our committee.
Before we knew it, Christmas had come around again. We enjoyed celebrating holidays by ourselves. There were numerous faculty and church parties and socials that we attended. Ruth and I had become friends of Pablo Lopez, former mayor of old town, a prominent rancher and Spanish‑American. Through him we became members of an upper‑middle class Spanish‑American social club that met frequently to dance traditional Spanish‑American dances, to enjoy Spanish‑ American music, and to dine on Spanish‑American foods. Club members not only danced, but discussed local, national, and international affairs.
All during the fall quarter, our committee was under pressure from Senators Anderson and Montoya to submit our preliminary report to Washington, D.C. No report had yet come in from New Mexico and they were anxious to act on at least one in the near future. Larry Tapia, aid to Senator Chavez, called constantly to impel us to action. Finally, towards the end of December, most of the sections of the report were ready for the final draft. I had each section approved by the entire committee. If any member of the committee had objections, the offending section was rewritten to overcome the objections. Just before the final draft was prepared, Dr. Virginia Sloan resigned as chairman of the report subcommittee, even though she had approved of the material in the report. So I spent several weeks putting the report together. When it was finished, the committee unanimously approved it again. After that, copies were mailed off to Washington, D.C., and to local federal and state agencies. Larry Finch, member of our committee and editor of the Las Vegas Optic, printed summaries of each section of the report.
On January 15, 1962, Dale Gerdemon, town banker and vice president of our committee, called me to say that he could not now accept the committee's report, even though he had approved it earlier. He stated that the report was biased, prejudiced, inaccurate, and negative. He accused me of filling the report with my own biases. I replied that the technical panel had gone over the report page by page, providing much of the data contained therein, and approved it. Furthermore, he and the rest of the committee (in public meetings) had also approved the entire report page by page. I asked him why he did not register his objections then. He said that copies of the report were circulating among businessmen and ranchers, arousing considerable antagonism.
That telephone call ended a long friendship. Dale had told me earlier that he had not wanted to become a banker. He had been far more interested in chemistry and other physical sciences and would have liked to become a scientist, but his father put so much pressure on him that he went to banking school. His father had the reputation of being a hard, aggressive banker. Dale mentioned that his father had an eye for women and that he supposed that he had many unrecognized half brothers and sisters in the community. Dale was a quiet, rather melancholy, man.
I immediately called the other members of the committee and found them quite surprised at Dale's attack. One member said that the "Gerdemons will have to learn that they cannot run this town." I learned further that several prominent Anglo ranchers, Dorothy Evans, a sarcastic, ill‑tongued social worker from New York City; and Jonathon Nunn, a local businessman‑‑were exerting pressure on Dale. He later called to apologize for his telephone call. At our meeting on January 16, presided over by Jose Armijo, Dale Gerdemon and Dorothy Evans again attacked the report. After considerable discussion, the report was voted on by the committee. Everyone but Dale and Dorothy voted to support the report. A letter was sent to Washington to the effect that the report represented the opinion of the committee.
One bit of good news at this time was the statewide reception given to a conference on the social and economic characteristics of northern New Mexico and its problems, sponsored by our regional organization. It was financed by the Ford Foundation. My life now became schizophrenic. I was battling for the survival of our report and of our committee in San Miguel County while, at the same time, I was directing regional activities in which the same data that drew fire in our report was praised in Santa Fe and Washington, D.C.
All during the spring of 1962, pressure built up against myself and against members of the committee. President Donnelly told me that he was under fire to discharge me, but refused to do so. He stated that because of board pressure, he might not be able to give me a salary increase this year, but suggested that I stand tight until the furor ended. I might add that no one at the university came to my aid. I fought my battles with Dr. Perrigo and the university administration standing on the side lines.
Large ranchers withdrew their deposits from Dale's bank and boycotted many local Las Vegas businessmen. I found out that they objected to the one recommendation in our report that a government agency buy up large ranches as they came on the market, subdivide them, and then sell them to qualified Spanish‑ American ranchers. Virtually all the land occupied by the Anglo‑American ranchers had once belonged to the Spanish‑American people. It was then that I learned about the deeply rooted guilt of the Anglo‑American ranchers about their treatment of the Spanish‑American people. I developed an intense dislike for the Anglo‑American ranchers of New Mexico.
Hostile letters to the editors flooded the columns of the Optic, so I organized among my students and friends a letter‑writing campaign in favor of our committee. Threatening telephone calls in Texan accents were made to my house, deeply disturbing my wife, who had not yet recovered her health. Our committee meetings were held in an atmosphere of intimidation, with large numbers of ranchers attempting to disrupt or to block them.
Word got out about these happenings in the Spanish‑American community. I was stopped in the street by strange Spanish‑Americans who congratulated me for my stand and offered support. I later found out that several Spanish‑American street gangs and groups of students mounted guard over my home and my family. At one bitter meeting attended by many Spanish‑American gang members as well as by ranchers, gang members slashed the tires of every single rancher's car parked around the square. I came out of the meeting to find a number of ranchers glaring at the unslashed tires of my humble station wagon while their Lincolns and Cryslers stood on deflated tires.
I heard that our report had been rejected in February by the State Area Redevelopment Technical Panel in Santa Fe, headed by Drew Cloud, former head of the Farm Home Administration. I called Drew, who told me that although the report had been opposed by the Department of Agriculture members of his committee, he approved it and would forward it to Washington, D.C. The same day Larry Tapia called me to say that Senator Chavez' office liked the report and was sending a federal team to San Miguel County to implement many of its recommendations. He urged me to hold the fort against local pressures.
Shortly after this, Larry Finch, a good friend and supporter, suggested that I step down as president and become vice president, thus distancing myself from the pressures a bit. I did resign, but refused to accept the position of vice president. Cap Parkinson, manager of Penny's and a good friend, accepted the position of president. I had started to worry about the effects of the struggle on my family.
Much to my surprise, I received a telephone call from President Ray of Texas Western College offering me a position of chairman of the newly created Department of Sociology at a salary of $8,500, which was $500 more than I was making at Highlands. I asked them to raise the salary and to submit a written offer. Then, on April 2, 1962, a letter came from President Ray offering me $9,000 and the rank of full professor. I talked with Perrigo who, after checking with Donnelly, told me that Donnelly could not give me a raise because of the furor nor any increase in rank. However, neither wanted me to leave. I called Bill Fisher at UTEP, who told me that he liked the school and encouraged me to come.
Still undecided, I talked the move over with Ruth, who was very much in favor. So the next day I called President Ray and accepted the position. I put the phone down and actually cried at leaving New Mexico. Sometime during the day a new calculator appeared on my desk, something I had requested for some time. I know that the administration of Highlands wanted me to stay, even though for the moment they could not give me a salary increase or raise in rank until the conflict had diminished.
Now that I had, in essence, resigned my position at Highlands, I was uncertain about the summer. My problem was resolved by a telephone call from Dr. Charles Loomis, who wanted to know if I would be interested in spending the summer on a research project in Juarez, Mexico. I accepted. Ruth and I felt quite blessed, as the call was totally unexpected.
On May 3, 1962, we drove down to El Paso. We enjoyed the ride through New Mexico. The next morning we visited the Lorin Jones family, who scolded us for having stayed in a motel. They told us that they were retiring from El Paso to Provo, Utah. I felt heartbroken at the news as I had looked forward to association with them. While Ruth visited with the Jones, I drove over to the college to meet the faculty of the social science division. There were two other sociologists—Paul Goodman and Mary Quin. Paul and I picked up Ruth and we looked up another friend from New Mexico, Reginald Fisher, the curator of the El Paso Art Museum. He told us that he had a home for sale on Jordan Lane in the upper valley at a moderate price. He drove us over to look at it and we immediately fell in love with it. We liked the structure and arrangement of the house, the large yard, the semi‑rural aspect of the neighborhood, and the cool interior. We made arrangements through the Veteran's Administration to buy the house and returned to Las Vegas the proud owners of our first house.
During the next week, news of our leaving had percolated through the campus, the community, and into northern New Mexico. Our phone rang consistently with friends and colleagues from Santa Fe, Albuquerque, Taos, More, and elsewhere, begging me not to go. My Spanish‑American students came by to thank me for my interest in them and to ask me not to leave. Spanish‑American townspeople also came by. I felt like a traitor and if we had not committed ourselves, I would have stayed. New Mexico had penetrated so deeply into my heart and soul that I have never been able to shake it off. It is still my favorite state. We left Las Vegas permanently on June 15, 1962, but not New Mexico.
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