Dac Crossley's Western Blog

Liberating New Mexico

The Territory of New Mexico developed a unique personality.

Spanish settlements in New Mexico grew differently from those in Texas. Following the trail of early explorers, colonists hoped to find gold someplace beyond El Paso and up the Rio Grande river. What they found instead was good ranching country and colonies of sedentary Indians in Pueblos.

At first, Spanish rule set aside agricultural land for the Pueblos. But the Hispanic population grew at the expense of the Pueblos, and eventually pushed its way up the more remote river valleys such as the Chama. Relationship with the Indians worsened, aggravated by the nomadic Comanches and Pawnees. The Spaniards accused the Pueblos of aiding and sheltering the nomads.

New Mexico was more remote than Texas. Long distances and the Chihuahuan desert made for infrequent contact with Mexico City. New Mexico’s troubles were its own.

After Mexico won its independence from Spain, matters worsened. Three governing authorities regulated the county – civil, military and religious. For remote areas such as New Mexico, the most significant one was the Catholic Church. Twelve years later a Bishop made the long trip, and found church property abandoned and religion practices gone slack.

Besides, the opening of the Santa Fe trail permitted increasing trade with the United States – trade that bypassed Texas. So President Mirabeau Lamar sponsored the Santa Fe Expedition, which left Austin in 1841 and struck out, cross country, for Santa Fe. Their purpose – to convince the New Mexicans to revolt and join the Republic of Texas. And also, to establish a profitable trade route.

It didn’t work. After a hazardous journey, the frazzled expedition straggled into New Mexico and was captured without firing a shot. As invaders, the Texans were marched to Mexico City and imprisoned, until released in 1842. New Mexico didn’t want to be part of Texas.

Five years later, Winfield Scott and the U.S. Army landed into Las Vegas, New Mexico, and announced to its citizens that they were now Americans, and must swear allegiance to the Constitution of the United States.

New Mexicans didn’t like that, either.

Sam Houston of Texas

General Sam, victor at the battle of San Jacinto, provoked controversy throughout his life. Like so many charismatic leaders, Sam Houston put his faults and his virtues on public display.

After the fall of the Alamo, Houston led a retreat toward Lousiana. His officers urged him to attack the Mexicans; his men were ready. Houston continued the retreat. Provisional Governor David Burnet ORDERED Houston to fight. He retreated still. He offered no explanations.

Did he know what he was doing? Was he fleeing to Louisiana? Or was he waiting for the moment of San Jacinto? History has no answers.

Burnet resigned rather than inaugurate Houston as the first elected governor of Texas (Houston gave himself the oath of office). His enemies decried Houston’s policies and in particular, his friendship with the Cherokees. But Governor Houston was popular, highly respected.

When the Civil War approached, Houston refused to renounce his U.S. citizenship. Forced out of office, his loyalty questioned, his private life continually under scrutiny, his political enemies rejoiced.

First he was a villain, then a hero, then a villain again.

“Sword of the Alamo,” by Marshall DeBruhl, is the most recent biography of Houson. It’s scholarly but an easy read, detailed, up-to-date, based on recent studies of Texas archives (See my Bookshelf).

However, my favorite Sam Houston book is a novel. “Walk in My Soul,” a story about Taina Rogers, Houston’s Indian wife, offers an enthralling picture of the young Sam Houston.

Houston’s life story is rich, not easily encapsulated. Perhaps he is better captured in fiction, rather than in the archives. I recommend this book highly (on my bookshelf).

(Incidentally – deBruhl’s extensive work gives but a passing mention to Taina Rogers. She isn’t found in his index. Maybe she doesn’t appear in the Texas archives.)

For me, Sam Houston will always be – Richard Dix, the old actor. He played the part in a movie version; it made a major impression on me when I was a child.

Anybody else remember that one?

Eighteen Minutes at San Jacinto

April 21, 1836, 4:00 p.m. General Sam Houston trotted his big horse Saracen in front of the paraded companies. Farmers, Merchants, Lawyers, old men and boys, and just plain renegades, they heard the order they’d waited for: “Trail arms.” The Army of the Republic of Texas began a slow march across the plain of San Jacinto, toward the camp of Mexican General Santa Anna. Tall grass shielded their progress. Colonel Sherman’s Second Regiment began the firefight, chasing a small group of soldados back to their camp.

The Texicans raised their iconic battle cry, “Remember the Alamo,” for the first time.

The Mexican camp was overrun. It was a slaughter.

We learned the story from the Texas History Movies, the comic books read in school. And from Francis X. Tolbert’s “The Day of San Jacinto.” And more recently from Stephen L. Moore’s volume, “Eighteen Minutes.”

That’s what it took. Eighteen minutes, that changed the course of history.

It seems likely that Sam Houston didn’t intend to fight. His army was outnumbered and poorly supplied, untrained, although eager for battle. Houston never said it, but his actions suggest that he was moving his band towards Louisiana, an escape to the US. When Santa Anna divided his forces, hoping to catch up with the Texicans, he gave Houston his opportunity. The Texican soldiers wanted to fight; so did their officers. Houston paraded his regiments and led them forward. Like a good general officer, he led from the front, not the rear.

Neither Houston nor his officers could stop the slaughter. "Remember the Alamo!" "Remember Goliad!" The bottled-up rage, the bloodlust, finally exhausted the Texicans. Santa Anna, attempting to escape in disguise, was unwittingly betrayed by one of his own soldiers. He surrendered and recognized the Republic of Texas. The war was over.

However --

Suppose Deaf Smith hadn’t destroyed the bridge over Vince’s Bayou, and the Mexican army had been reinforced.

Suppose Santa Anna had escaped capture. Or had been killed in the battle. The war would have continued, and Houston’s little army (maybe 960 men) would have been overrun. (Colonel Mirabeau Lamar wanted to execute Santa Anna).

Suppose the Mexican Generals had ignored Santa Anna’s written orders to return to Mexico, and decided to fight anyway? (check my earlier blog on the “Sea of Mud.”).

The march of History slipped by these chances, and a fateful ten years later, the southwest – Texas to California – was won from Mexico by the United States in a war of national expansion.

One more footnote: Who shot Sam Houston? When the horse Saracen was shot from beneath him, Houston’s left ankle was shattered. His political enemies later suggested that the shot had come from the Texas army. Someone wanted to be sure that Houston wouldn’t begin a last-minute retreat.

Nobody believed that!

Dealing Down in Darien

Last weekend I went with my writing partner, Paige Mercer Cummings and her husband Mike, to Darien, Georgia. To sell some books. And sit on the deck overlooking the river, with beer and seafood.

I’ve recommended Paige’s novel, Under the Liberty Oak, a first-class read set on the Georgia coast.

We sold books in a sunlit square, together with two dozen painters, some potters and some miscellaneous artists. We were the only writers. Westerns sold surprisingly well for the Georgia coastal area, where history is more Revolutionary and Civil War. Paige sold much more than I did.

Darien a little town in that historic stretch of coast between Brunswick and Savannah. Pleasant, quiet, big Live Oaks and Spanish moss. Under the Liberty Oak is set in a fictional town, Liberty, which is based on Darien. Paige spent her childhood there. She gave me a tour of the town and its environs. It’s always nice to go behind the scenes with someone who knows the area.

There’s such a contrast with our severe South Texas Gulf coast, which is a desert by comparison. Both coasts are protected by offshore barrier islands, much more mesic in Georgia than in Texas. They have another common feature – oyster shell roads. Remember those?

Springtime in Texas?

Eastern Springtime. I’m driving down to the Georgia coast, to Darien, for “Art in the Park” on Saturday, maybe sell some books. I’ll travel the back roads.

And find that Georgia springtime is in the charge mode. Dogwoods, Redbuds, Azaleas shouting at me; that’s nice. But -- it’s the light, wispy green outlining the tree branches that reaches deep into my spirit – telling me, just wait, this is gonna be great! The springtime breeze says, “Underline that.”

And I wonder, what’s it like in South Texas? Are the bluebonnets everyplace, the winecups, the Indian paint brush, like in my childhood? Are the retamas and huisaches wakening, offering the same thorny experiences I remember? Is it springtime? Would anyone call it ‘roundup time?’

How about the mesquites? Have they offered up their shreds of leaflets? Childhood, I spent hours just examining the wondrous blossoms of the mesquite trees. You could do worse than spend your hours in rapt study of the mesquite flower (apologies to Robert Frost).

In my age I’ve learned to appreciate all seasons – even Winter – but my favorite remains – Summertime.

I mean a South Texas summer. Those hot, hot August afternoons. When your friends have sneaked away, seeking a quiet cool spot for a siesta. Breeze, not a whiff. Dry that yanks your breath from you. So bright that you squint at anything. The sun so powerful it pushes you down. There’s the creek, no flow, just a few little gray puddles in the bed, with a dragonfly or two soaring over, hoping for a misplaced gnat. You seek the horizon; it’s lost in the squiggles of heat rising across the prairie.

Take a deep breath, if you dare. Now, that’s what I call a SEASON!

Another Point of View

We Texans learned our history well. Anglo settlers, American and European, settled East Texas in good faith but were betrayed by a shifting Mexican government, oppressive new regulations and (finally) by a vicious dictator.

Well, not exactly.

When Mexico broke free from Spain, it was not an organized country. More-or-less independent states quarreled about a central government, and asserted their own authorities (sound familiar?). Eventually the Constitution of 1824 was adopted, the viewpoint of liberal rebels (sound familiar?), following the example of the Constitution of the United States (really familiar).

The original 13 American colonies were huddled along the east coast. In contrast, the Mexican states were spread over a vast area, reaching far to the north, existing in near isolation. The central government, the civil authority, was weak. The glue that held the states together was the Catholic Church. The Church was a major landholder in Mexico; its organization reached into the hinterlands. Catholicism was the state religion, established in the Constitution.

The Territory of New Mexico was even more isolated than Texas. Spanish settlers and Pueblo Indians got along nervously, far from the influence of the central government but dominated by the Catholic Church. Their contacts were with plains Indians and a few Americans traveling along the Santa Fe trail as traders.

Some Mexican states grew dissatisfied with the central government. In Coahuila y Texas, separation was discussed. The state of Zacatecas attempted revolt after the Constitution was demolished.

Immigration into Texas from the U.S. seemed to be a stabilizing influence at first, providing a buffer against the plains Indians and adventurers from Louisiana. But the trickle of immigrants became a stream and then a flood.

Something had to be done to ensure the Mexican state of Texas. Legislation proved ineffective; laws unenforceable. Military intervention in the coastal colonies and in San Antonio was inadequate (does THAT sound familiar?). The only recourse of the Mexican government was: Santa Anna and the army.

The rest, as they say, is …

The Law of April 6

The Law of April 6, 1830

In 1824, the new government of Mexico adopted a constitution based on that of the United States. It had some improvements (slavery was banned) and some differences (a State Religion was recognized).

As we Texans remember from our grade school histories (the Texas History Movies), Stephen F. Austin established a colony in east Texas, opening the door for a wave of immigration from the U.S. and from Europe. The newly-formed Mexican nation welcomed the immigrants, requiring only that they swear loyalty and become Catholics. Texas would become a buffer between the plains Indians and the Americans.

A revolution in Mexico City overthrew the new Constitution and lead to a series of short-lived Presidents. Now, a concern was control over the far-flung, remote Mexican states, such as Coahuila y Texas, New Mexico and California. Perhaps immigration was proceeding too rapidly.

The Law of April 6 forbid further immigration into Texas from the U.S. It suspended any empresario contracts not fulfilled. It banned the introduction of additional slaves. But how to enforce it, in such remote areas?

A customs house was built near Galveston Island in a new village, Anahuac, under the command of Juan (James) Bradford. He proceeded to stop immigration, refusing to let ships unload passengers. He ran roughshod over the American colonists, confiscating their possessions and declaring martial law. And he ran afoul of William Barrett Travis.

This is where Travis entered Texas history. Bradford imprisoned Travis without trial (reportedly for laughing at him). Travis sparked an uprising, which was finally quelled when Bradford was relieved of duty.

But Travis wasn’t done. He’d tasted revolution and he liked it. And as we Texans know, he ended his life as commander of the ill-fated garrison at The Alamo.

The Law of April 6 changed the course of history. Immigrants who swore loyalty to Mexico and to the Constitution of 1824, realized that they should control their own destiny. That Law planted the seed.