“YO SOY LOCO POR ESA SIERRA”: THE HISTORY OF LAND

RIGHTS ACTIVISM IN SAN LUIS, COLORADO, 1863-2002

by

NICKI MARGARET GONZALES

B.A., Yale University, 1992

M.A., University of Colorado at Boulder, 1997

A thesis submitted to the

Faculty of the Graduate School of the

University of Colorado in partial fulfillment

of the requirement for the degree of

Doctor of Philosophy

Department of History

2007

This dissertation entitled: “Yo soy loco por esa Sierra”: The History of Land Rights Activism in San Luis,

Colorado, 1863-2002 written by Nicki Margaret Gonzales

has been approved for the Department of History

_______________________________ Julie Greene

_______________________________ Brian DeLay

Date_____________

The final copy of this thesis has been examined by the signatories, and we find that both the content and the form meet acceptable presentation standards of scholarly

work in the above mentioned discipline.

HRC protocol #0806.37

iii

Gonzales, Nicki Margaret (Ph.D., History) “Yo soy loco por esa Sierra”: The History of Land Rights Activism in San Luis,

Colorado, 1863-2002 Thesis directed by Associate Professor Julie Greene

During the 1850s, Spanish-surnamed settlers arrived on the lands of the

Mexican Sangre de Cristo Land Grant in Southern Colorado. Lured by offers of

individual lands and use-rights to resource-rich communal lands, these settlers

ventured to the isolated, arid San Luis Valley, where they founded the community of

San Luis. In this environment, they shaped a culture based upon communal land

rights to a mountain they affectionately named “la sierra.” This communal

environmentalism provided the foundation for the community’s political resistance.

My study examines the history of social mobilization in the San Luis

community. From the 1860s to the 1960s, the San Luis community jealously guarded

its land rights by responding to challenges to them with spontaneous acts of

resistance. While community activists enjoyed temporary successes, they

experienced no lasting institutional change that would permanently protect their land

rights. Nonetheless, these acts of resistance shaped a culture of opposition that

enabled later activists to fashion a social movement which would eventually achieve

institutional success.

Such success came at the hands of a group of politically-savvy, militant-

minded activists in the 1960s and 1970s. Responding to the actions of a North

iv

Carolina lumberman, who had successfully challenged their community’s rights,

these activists capitalized upon the political climate of the era. The Vietnam War,

Lyndon Johnson’s War on Poverty, the Catholic Church’s Vatican II, and the

increasing militancy of various civil rights movements—namely the Chicano and

American Indian Movements—created an atmosphere in which the activists

established a sophisticated and dynamic land rights movement.

The Land Rights Council emerged in 1978 as the political voice of the poor,

rural ranchers of San Luis and led the land rights struggle from 1978 until 2002.

During that time, the group proved adaptable—surviving twenty-four years of

shifting political currents—yet it never wavered in its commitment to self-

determination and its ultimate goal of regaining its community’s lost land rights. In

2002 that persistence paid off when the Colorado Supreme Court reversed decades of

previous rulings in the lower courts and ruled in favor of the LRC, granting the

community its historic land rights.

In honor of my parents, Joseph and Alberta

For Danny and Pirate

vi

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Many, many people made it possible for me to complete this project. First, I

would like to thank the History Department and the Graduate School at the University

of Colorado, at Boulder, for their financial support—through Graduate School and

Departmental fellowships, the Katherine Jacob Lamont Scholarship for Humanities,

the Bean Fund fellowship, and Beverly Sears Small Grant awards. In addition, I

thank Dr. Gloria Main for her generous support, through the Jackson Turner Main

Memorial Grant for the study of the American West, as well as the Boulder Historical

Society for the Thomas J. Meier Scholarship. Thanks also to the College for

Professional Studies at Regis University, for providing me with faculty dissertation

grants. Along with the Charles Redd Center for Western Studies, these groups and

individuals made my journey feasible.

Several librarians and archivists assisted me with research. Ginny Kieffer at

Colorado College helped me to navigate the Edmund van Deist Collection. Estevan

Rael-Galvez at the New Mexico State Archives assisted me with my earliest research

into Mexican land grants. Mary Walsh at Adams State College led me through the

Colorado Collections. And, the entire library staff at the Colorado Historical Society

assisted me during my many hours of newspaper and archival research.

Members of the Land Rights Council legal team provided invaluable advice

and encouragement. In particular, David Martinez and Jeff Goldstein spent hours

answering my endless research questions. Both offered me access to fascinating

source material, and both opened many doors for me in the San Luis community.

Elisabeth Arenales introduced me to the San Luis community and provided a model

for non-intrusive inquiry, which further helped me to gain acceptance in a community

known for its suspicion of outsiders. I would also like to thank attorneys Bob Maes,

Barbara Maes, Julie Waggener, and Watson Galleher for their encouragement.

I also received assistance from many individuals in the San Luis community.

Glenda Maes drove me around town, introduced me to key actors in the struggle, and

fed me dinner. Gloria Rael Maestas shared her stories and her dad’s papers with me.

Arnold Valdez shared his maps. Adeline Espinosa, Eugene Martinez, Eugene

vii

Lobato, and Agatha and Levi Medina offered me their hospitality. Adeline even

offered me a puppy, which I gladly took home! I am especially fortunate to have met

Ray and Shirley Otero. They not only shared their life stories with me, but they

inspired me with their strength and generosity. I am fortunate to be able to call them

friends.

My fellow graduate students and colleagues provided me with hours of

stimulating conversation about all things historical. Thank you: Wendy Rex-Atzet,

Marcia Goldstein, Lis Brown, Jim Walsh, Cary Swensen, Chris Riggs, Kevin and

Phyllis Stanton, Gerry Ronning, John Enyeart, and Renee Johnson. Thanks also to

my supportive colleagues and friends: Gladys Frantz-Murphy, Father Jim Guyer, Dan

Clayton, Jim Riley, Terry Schmidt, General John Brown, Angela Johnson, Lois

Court, Jessica Herrera, María E. Montoya, Rebecca Acevedo, Sonja Foss, William

Waters, and Deena González. In addition, my talented friend, Mimi Saylor spent

many hours helping me format the final document.

A special thanks to my colleague and friend, Tom Romero, and my good

friend, Laurie Blumberg-Romero. Their encouragement, good humor, and clear

thinking helped me to focus my own thinking and energy. I am especially indebted to

Alphonse Keasley for our many conversations that helped to shape me as a scholar.

His advice and friendship helped to keep me going. Thanks also to Dr. Marianne

Stoller who shared with me her personal archives and her unique insights on the San

Luis community and its land struggle. I also wish to thank my undergraduate advisor

at Yale. English Professor Victor Luftig taught me to read critically and write clearly.

He also encouraged me to continue my studies, so that I might one day contribute to

the world through my scholarship.

Without the guidance, good humor, and friendship of Graduate Program

Assistant, Scott Miller, I surely would have missed a few graduate school deadlines.

With him in the office, I always felt like I had an ally in the trenches. Thanks also to

Virginia Anderson, Director of Graduate Studies, for looking out for the best interests

of the department’s graduate students. I benefited from her courage and hard work.

I am convinced that I had the best dissertation committee a graduate student

could hope for. Thanks to Brian DeLay, Bob Ferry, Emma Perez, and Fred Anderson

viii

for their intelligent and creative insights, as well as their sincere encouragement.

Each one, in his or her own way, inspired me to see this project to the end. To say I

am deeply indebted to my advisor and friend, Julie Greene, is to only hint at my true

feelings of gratitude. Under Julie’s wing, I learned to be a historian. She is a model

of top-notch intellect, unwavering integrity, and kindness. Through the years, Julie

has taught me to think critically and clearly about the events and individuals of the

past. Perhaps most importantly, however, she has taught me that so much of “doing

history” comes down to good old-fashioned hard work, toughness, and “chutzpah.” It

is only with her guidance and support that I crossed the finish line. Go Bulldogs!

Lastly, I wish to thank my family. My grandparents’ lives—so different from

my own—have been a constant inspiration to me. My Grandpa Stanley’s love of

history served as my earliest entrée into the past. I know he would have loved to have

read and discussed this dissertation. My sisters, Joey and Randi, deserve hearty

thanks for helping me to stay focused and for helping with Danny and Pirate. Thanks

also to Jason and Scott. My parents’ encouragement and love have guided me along

my journey from preschool through graduate school. From an early age, they taught

me the importance of perseverance, the value of education, and the power of

believing in myself. They have sacrificed so much so that my sisters and I could

follow our dreams. Mom and Dad, thanks! Finally, I wish to thank Danny and

Pirate—my two little boys who have made this all worthwhile. This one’s for you!

ix

CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION ........................................................................................................... 1 I. “YOU CAN STEAL A MAN’S WIFE, BUT NEVER HIS WATER”: SAN

LUIS AND THE RISE OF A COMMUNAL ENVIRONMENTALISM........... 15 II. THE RISE OF A CULTURE OF OPPOSITION, 1863-1965................................ 39

III. “CHICANO LAND, NO GRINGOS”: THE RISE OF THE

LAND RIGHTS COUNCIL OF SAN LUIS, 1965-1979....................................... 92 IV. “I CAN FIGHT THIS FOREVER”: RAEL V. TAYLOR AND THE

LRC’S LEGAL BATTLE FOR LA SIERRA, 1980-1992 .....................................153 V. “THIS IS THE GREATEST VICTORY WE EVER HAD”: THE ROAD TO

SUCCESS, 1992-2002............................................................................................204

CONCLUSION................................................................................................................274

BIBLIOGRAPHY............................................................................................................281

APPENDIX A. THE TAYLOR RANCH AND THE CULEBRA RIVER BASIN, COSTILLA COUNTY, COLORADO, MAP PRODUCED BY JOE MARISCO, ARVADA, COLORADO .........................................305

APPENDIX B. CULEBRA RIVER VILLAGES AND LA SIERRA—MAP PRODUCED BY VALDEZ & ASSOCIATES ....................................306

1

INTRODUCTION

“In order to own property under the Spanish and Mexican land grant system, you had to physically step on the land, run your fingers through the soil, and make a public commitment to live on it, cultivate it, and if necessary, defend it with your life.”

--New Mexico Genealogical Society

On Thanksgiving morning in 1961, ranch owner and lumberman Jack T.

Taylor and two of his ranch employees, Alfred Randolph and Perbis Raley, were

completing a sweep of the ranch property, when they came upon one of Taylor’s

$24,000 caterpillar tractors riddled with bullets. They looked further and saw the

burnt remains of one of Taylor’s trailers. The three men then followed horse tracks

from the site of the damaged property to a clearing where they discovered three

young men eating lunch. The three were Gilbert Medina, Eddie Medina, and Tom

Rael—all from the small village of La Valley (also called San Francisco). After a

heated exchange with the men, Taylor, Randolph, and Raley decided that the three

were the culprits and proceeded to beat them mercilessly with the blunt ends of their

rifles, despite their pleas to stop. Taylor later claimed that the three men were armed

and that they resisted his requests that they leave his mountain. The three would deny

these allegations.1

1 “San Luis Enveloped by Uneasy Armistice,” The Denver Post, December 3, 1961; “Rancher charges DA fails to prosecute law violations,” November 29, 1961; “Beaten Trio’s Guns Tested,” The Denver Post, November 30, 1961; “Steve Pleads Case for San Luis Peace,” The Denver Post, December 12, 1961; “Ending a Range War,” Rocky Mountain News (Denver), August 1, 1993; “Local Man Wins Colorado Land Suit,” The Sun Journal, September 29, 1977; “Chaos Comes to Costilla County,” High Country News, June 9, 1997; Glenda Maes, interview by author, San Luis, CO, 17 December 2001, tape recording, personal files of author; Charlie Jaquez, interview by author, San Pablo, CO, 17 April 2001, author’s handwritten notes, personal files of author; Agatha Medina, interview by author, San Francisco, CO, 4 August 2007, tape recording, personal files of author. La Valley, or San Francisco, is one of the small villages that comprise the larger San Luis community. San Francisco is the village that lies adjacent to the border of La Sierra, also known as the Taylor Ranch. When I refer to San Luis, or the San Luis community, I am referring to the town of San Luis, as well as the surrounding satellite communities of San Francisco, Chama, San Pablo, and San Pedro. If I need to refer to one village specifically, I will do so by using its proper name. Additionally, I will use the following terms to refer

2

Regardless of what triggered the violence, Taylor and his men loaded Medina,

Medina, and Rael into the bed of a pick-up truck and drove them down the mountain

to the county jail. As the truck passed through the village of San Francisco, local

residents heard the commotion and the haunting screams of the three injured men—

all local boys. Word traveled quickly through the tiny villages about what was

happening. The local community responded, and some followed Taylor into San

Luis.2

Taylor stopped his truck in front of the Costilla County jail. When Sheriff

Ruben Navarro came out of the building, Taylor demanded that the sheriff arrest and

charge the men with arson. To Taylor’s dismay, Navarro refused. In the meantime, a

violent mob gathered on the streets outside the courthouse, and demanded revenge.

One protestor kicked in the door of the jail, while others fired their guns at the jail

building. Still others threw rocks at the jail walls. Desperate to curb the violence,

Navarro fired his own gun into the air, in an attempt to disperse the crowd and avert a

lynching. The mob moved in closer, demanding that Navarro—or anyone willing to

take justice into his or her own hands—take revenge against Taylor and his men for

pistol whipping the youth. Sensing that the mob was not going to back down,

Navarro took Taylor, Raley, and Randolph into custody—a move he later said was to

to the contested, 77,500 acre mountain land: La Sierra, the Mountain, the Taylor Ranch, and the Ranch. La Sierra is the term used most frequently by members of the San Luis community, as it connotes a long history of communal use of the mountain by the community, in line with their historic use rights. 2 Agatha Medina, interview; Levi Medina, interview by author, San Francisco, CO, 4 August 2007, tape recording, personal files of author; “San Luis Enveloped by Uneasy Armistice,” The Denver Post, December 3, 1961; “Rancher charges DA fails to prosecute law violations,” November 29, 1961; “Beaten Trio’s Guns Tested,” The Denver Post, November 30, 1961; “San Luis Citizens in Lynching Mood,” The Denver Post, December 1, 1961.

3

save their lives. Yet the mob remained—ready and willing to administer its own

brand of justice, as soon as Taylor and his men were released.3

Reactions to the incident were strong. To the surprise of many, the next day,

District Attorney John Smith formally charged Taylor and his men with kidnapping,

assault and robbery. 4 Meanwhile, Navarro called on Governor Steve McNichols to

help diffuse the situation, inviting him to come and mediate between the two sides.

One local citizen predicted the violence would flare up again, “I wouldn’t write him

an insurance policy...if [the non-law abiding men in the town] get talking about this

and start drinking wine, I just don’t know...”5 A trial was held in March 1963. In

the end, Taylor, Raley, and Randolph were fined $300 each on charges of assault and

battery.6

The pistol whipping incident and the subsequent mob protest outside the

Costilla County jail reveal many important characteristics about the San Luis

community. First, while it is one of the more dramatic incidents of protest in the

history of San Luis, it is by no means exceptional. In fact, the incident is one of many

instances of social protest in the community’s history. The episode illustrates the

ability of the community to engage in spontaneous collective action when it feels

threatened by “outside” challenges to its well-being. It is thus indicative of the

3 Agatha Medina, interview; Levi Medina, interview; Charlie Jaquez, interview; “San Luis Enveloped by Uneasy Armistice,” The Denver Post, December 3, 1961; “Rancher charges DA fails to prosecute law violations,” November 29, 1961; “Beaten Trio’s Guns Tested,” The Denver Post, November 30, 1961. 4 “Steve Pleads Case for San Luis Peace,” The Denver Post, December 12, 1961; “Ending a Range War,” Rocky Mountain News (Denver), August 1, 1993; “Chaos Comes to Costilla County,” High Country News, June 9, 1997; Glenda Maes, interview; Charlie Jaquez, interview. 5 “San Luis Citizens in Lynching Mood,” The Denver Post, December 1, 1961. 6 “Steve Pleads Case for San Luis Peace,” The Denver Post, December 12, 1961; “Ending a Range War,” Rocky Mountain News (Denver), August 1, 1993; “Chaos Comes to Costilla County,” High Country News, June 9, 1997; “Rancher, Foreman Fined in Assault Case,” The Denver Post, November 5, 1963. Glenda Maes, interview; Charlie Jaquez, interview.

4

existence of a culture of opposition—shaped by almost a century of social

mobilization—in the San Luis community. Second, the response to the incident with

Taylor also illustrates the willingness of the San Luis people to engage in resistance

“by any means,” even if that meant violent mob protest.7 Inherent in San Luis’

“culture of opposition” is a propensity toward militancy, and the history of the

community is full of instances in which locals took a militant, direct action approach

to perceived injustices. Finally, the incident points to the power of land rights issues

to unite the San Luis community, despite its own internal conflicts—whether those

are along political, social or class lines.

This dissertation will examine the long tradition of social mobilization in the

San Luis community. More specifically, it will explore the rise of a distinct “culture

of opposition” that came to define the San Luis people, as they—time and again—

mobilized in defense of a well-defined set of core principles. At the heart of those

principles lay the community’s relationship with the natural landscape, a landscape

they affectionately termed “la sierra.” That relationship was shaped by a set of land

rights given to the first settlers in the 1850s, as well as the communal

environmentalism that grew up around those land rights.

From the 1860s to the 1960s, the San Luis community jealously guarded their

land rights by responding to challenges to them with spontaneous acts of resistance.

While these episodes of grassroots rebellion achieved a degree of success, often

forcing the offenders to back down and honor the land rights of the locals, that

success was often short-lived. During this century, community activists achieved no

7 Meeting Minutes, La Asociacion de los Derechos Civicos, 1961, Personal Papers of Marianne L. Stoller, Colorado Springs, Colorado.

5

lasting institutional change that would protect their rights permanently. Nonetheless,

these acts of resistance shaped a strong culture of opposition that would enable later

activists to fashion a social movement which would eventually achieve institutional

success.

In 1960, North Carolina lumberman Jack Taylor purchased La Sierra and

immediately began limiting the locals’ access to it—despite his knowledge of their

historic rights. When locals reacted with direct action, Taylor persisted. He took the

people to court, and won. He was clearly a more formidable foe than the community

was accustomed to facing. In the face of this relentless challenge, a few key

individuals responded in the mid-1970s and breathed new life into the community’s

resistance movement. More specifically, I argue, these activists capitalized on the

San Luis community’s existing and well-defined culture of opposition and built a

movement around it. Politically-savvy and militant-minded, the activists made the

most of the political climate of the time. The Vietnam War, Johnson’s War on

Poverty, the Catholic Church’s Vatican II, and the militancy of the various civil rights

movements, especially the Chicano and American Indian Movements, had created an

atmosphere that was ripe for social protest. And, these key individuals seized the

political opportunities of the day and eventually established a sophisticated, dynamic,

and determined land rights movement.

The Land Rights Council of San Luis, founded in 1978, touted itself as the

political voice of the poor, rural ranchers of San Luis. The LRC led the land rights

struggle from 1978 until its victory in 2002. That year the Colorado Supreme Court

reversed decades of previous rulings in the lower courts and ruled in favor of the

6

LRC’s plaintiffs, granting them back their historic land rights. Most impressively, the

Court based its ruling on an 1863 Spanish-language document—a remnant of the

Mexican Land Grant System, under which San Luis was settled—thus vindicating the

claims of the LRC. While the LRC proved adaptable—surviving 24 years of shifting

political currents—it never wavered in its commitment to the regain community’s lost

land rights to La Sierra and to ensure the ecological health of the mountain. Nor did

the group waver in its commitment to the principle of self-determination. This is

illustrated most clearly in the LRC’s strategy of coalitional politics. While building

coalitions across racial and class lines, the LRC insisted that those allies support the

core principles of the LRC and the larger San Luis community. Such coalitions

became a critical element in the LRC’s successful land rights movement.

In the past decade or so, historians have produced dozens of exciting studies

that examine various aspects of the Chicano experience. Most of the recent works,

however, have focused on the rise of Chicano activism and political identity in urban

areas. Many of these stories attempt to locate the roots of radical Chicano activism,

while also highlighting the complexities and contradictions evident in militant

Chicano movements. While Los Angeles has been an important area of Chicano

history, there is a need to examine other urban areas, and an even more pressing need

to consider the rise of activism in rural areas.

Ian Haney Lopez’s Racism on Trial: The Chicano Fight for Justice discusses

the emergence of radical Chicano politics in East Los Angeles, as well as an example

of how Chicano activists pursued justice through the courts. He traces the evolution

of a “non-white racial identity” among the Chicanos of East L.A. during the Chicano

7

movement years, arguing that the “Chicano movement heralded the emergence of a

new, quintessentially racial politics that sought to turn non-white status into a badge

of pride.” He also examines how racial thinking can lead to, and is a product of,

“legal violence.” 8

More specifically, Haney Lopez examines two criminal prosecutions that

stemmed from the 1968 high school student protests, during which 10,000 East L.A.

high school students protested against the sub-standard conditions of their schools.

One of the cases that he looks at is the May 1968 Grand Jury indictment of thirteen

community leaders and college students on both misdemeanor and felony charges—

the latter carrying a potential forty-five years in prison. Haney Lopez argues that this

court case sparked Mexican American political mobilization in East Los Angeles.9

Armed with their fiery, activist lawyer Oscar Acosta—self-proclaimed as the

“only genuine Chicano lawyer”—the L.A. Chicano community fought back in the

courts. Haney Lopez describes the legal and racial battles that took place surrounding

two legal cases. Acosta and his defendants used the trials to publicize the Chicano

cause and to highlight the distinct anti-Mexican American bias in the L.A. legal

system.10 Haney Lopez’s study is thus a clear example of one Chicano community

using the American legal system to attack that very hegemony and show its inherent

biases, in order to achieve justice and preserve its community.

In Race, Police, and the Making of a Political Identity: Mexican Americans

and the Los Angeles Police Department, 1900-1945, Edward J. Escobar explores the

8 Ian Haney López, Racism on Trial: The Chicano Fight for Justice (Cambridge: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 2003), 2. 9 Ibid., 3-4. 10 Ibid., 4-5.

8

relationship between the Mexican American community and the L.A. police

department. He argues that the “chronic conflict” between the LAPD and the

Mexican American community, particularly during the Zoot Suit crisis of 1943, led to

a new “identity politics” in the Mexican American community.11 Escobar asserts that

this new political activism would eventually grow into the Chicano movement in later

years. It led to the creation of Spanish-language newspapers, mutual aid societies,

grassroots organizations, and powerful political figures to combat the discrimination

targeted at their community.12

Historian John R. Chavez examines one Chicano community’s movement to

promote economic self-help and cultural preservation in his study, Eastside

Landmark: A history of the East Los Angeles Community Union, 1968-1993.13

Chavez looks at the East Los Angeles Community Union (TELACU), a union that

emerged out of the labor movement, to promote economic self-help. The TELACU

eventually led Chicano activists to reject the assimilationist ideology prevalent in the

local public schools. Chavez calls attention to the seemingly paradoxical position of

the union as an advocate of radical self-determination and nationalism, while at the

same time it sought to emphasize a more integrationist position of economic

development within that agenda of radical nationalism.14 The evolution of TELACU

from a radical organization to a more integrationist force in the community highlights

11 Edward J. Escobar, Race, Police, and the Making of a Political Identity: Mexican Americans and the Los Angeles Police Department, 1900-1945 (Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1999), 16-17. 12 Ibid., 16-17. 13 John R. Chavez, Eastside Landmark: A History of the East Los Angeles Community Union, 1968-1993 (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1998). 14 Ibid., 77-79.

9

the complexity of Chicano organizations that work to preserve their cultural identities

and economic well-being in the face of outside challenges.

The comparison between the East LA Community Union and the San Luis

Land Rights Council highlights the absolute persistence of the San Luis activists to

preserve the integrity of their traditional communal culture, even when moderate

compromise positions surfaced. Chavez’s study is helpful in understanding the

choices and challenges that Chicano grassroots activist groups encounter, when

challenging political and economic hegemony.

In The Crystal Experiment: A Chicano Struggle for Community Control,

Armando Navarro examines the impact of Mexican American grassroots organizing

on electoral politics.15 His setting is the small, rural Texas town of Crystal City,

where Chicanos made up 80% of the population, but the power structure was all

Anglo. Navarro’s Chicano activists focused their organizing efforts on the electoral

system. His study looks at the 1963 defeat of Anglo incumbents by five Mexican

Americans in the city council election and the election of Mexican Americans in both

local and county elections from 1970-78. He also looks at the founding and influence

of the La Raza Unida Party, as a challenge to the two-party system, as well as the

challenges faced by the RUP. Navarro’s community combined radical politics with a

more integrationist approach, by organizing for inclusion into the existing political

system; however, in supporting RUP, they did so on their own terms. Navarro’s

study, thus, is helpful in understanding the challenges that a small, rural, Chicano

15 Armando Navarro, The Crystal Experiment: A Chicano Struggle for Community Control (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1998).

10

community encounters when adopting a radical resistance strategy in order to

preserve its cultural integrity.

Ignacio Garcia’s study of La Raza Unida Party, United We Win: The Rise and

Fall of La Raza Unida Party, is helpful in understanding the evolution of, the

successes, and the challenges that Chicano grassroots groups faced in the wake of the

Chicano movement.16 Garcia’s comprehensive study of the RUP offers an example

of a highly successful Chicano movement.17 It goes into great depth to describe the

inner workings of the Party and to analyze its strengths and weaknesses, as well as its

relation to the other “branches” of the National Chicano Movement—such as the

Crusade for Justice in Denver, Tijerina’s land grant movement in New Mexico, and

the Chicano renaissance in art and culture. Garcia also discusses the influence of the

Black Power Movement on the formation of Chicano political consciousness and the

eventual formation of RUP.18

While the main focus of the RUP party’s platform was education and the

preservation of Chicano culture and language in the curriculum, there were numerous

other demands as well. Perhaps the most interesting aspect of Garcia’s discussion of

the RUP’s platform is the attention he directs at the contradictions within what he

calls the party’s “quasi-ideology.” The RUP professed to be a nationalistic

16 Ignacio M. Garcia, United We Win: The Rise and Fall of La Raza Unida Party (Tucson: University of Arizona, 1989). Other authors, such as Armando Navarro have also done detailed studies of the RUP. Navarro’s book, La Raza Unida Party: A Chicano Challenge to the U.S. Two-Party Dictatorship (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 2000) is a comprehensive political history of the RUP. It is essentially a compilation of essays on the party’s rise and fall throughout the Southwest and Midwest. Of particular interest is the chapter on the RUP in Colorado. Navarro gives a detailed history of the rise of Rudolfo “Corky” Gonzales and his Crusade for Justice, which highlights many of the cross-racial alliances with other minority activist leaders, such as Reies Tijerina, Stokeley Carmichael and Rap Brown. 17 Garcia, United We Win, xi. 18 Ibid., 11-12, 17.

11

organization, influenced by Black Power ideology; however, its political platform

proved to be only “mildly nationalistic... purposely avoid[ing] much of the socialist

rhetoric fashionable at the time.”19 Such contradictions reveal the difficulty of

minority civil rights groups to maintain a radical resistance strategy when confronting

a hegemonic system and attempting to attract supporters from the outside. Both the

successes and failures of the RUP shed light on the operations of the Land Rights

Council in San Luis because of the many challenges to its radical ideology that the

LRC experienced throughout the land rights struggle.

In addition to contributing to the historiography of Chicano political activism,

my study contributes to our knowledge of coalitional politics—particularly those in

minority communities. Only recently have historians begun to look at the

complexities of political coalitions in minority social movements, and many of these

studies have focused on urban centers exclusively. In Black, Brown, Yellow, and

Left: Radical Activism in Los Angeles, Laura Pulido examines the revolutionary

politics of black, Chicano, and Asian civil rights groups in the 1960s and 1970s—

what she terms the “Third World Left” of Los Angeles. Pulido highlights the

interactions between the three groups, pointing to the solidarity that existed among

them. She also looks at the process “politicization,” which she argues has been

neglected by scholars.20 My work will contribute to this growing trend of looking at

the connections and coalitions between militant social groups, and how groups

borrowed from one another and supported one another within the context of militant

19 Ibid., 83-85. 20 Laura Pulido, Black, Brown, Yellow, and Left: Radical Activism in Los Angeles (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2006).

12

political movements. It will also offer an example of coalitions formed between

rural-based organizations and urban groups.

In her book, Translating Property: The Maxwell Land Grant and the Conflict

over Land in the American West, 1840-1900, Maria Montoya explores the clash

between the US and Mexican property regimes in the American southwest. She

examines the legal and social complexities involved in the meeting of the two

systems, with the end of the Mexican American War in 1848. Although she focuses

on the Maxwell Land Grant—originally the Beaubien-Miranda Land Grant of 1841—

she also devotes attention to the legacy of the Sangre de Cristo Land Grant and the

1998 Espinoza v. Taylor legal case, in which San Luis residents were suing Taylor for

access to La Sierra. Montoya served as an expert witness in the Espinoza case and

writes about that experience—becoming familiar with the complex legal issues

surrounding that case and the judge’s inability to see the validity of the arguments of

the San Luis attorneys and to “refuse to enforce Mexican property rights.”21 Montoya

concludes that Espinoza v. Taylor echoed many of the land and legal issues that

surfaced one hundred years ago in the proceedings surrounding the Maxwell Land

Grant.

At the heart of these legal clashes over land issues lay the difference in

cultural conceptions toward land. Montoya points to the 19th century Mexican

property system which was “rooted in communal, as well as individual, ownership

and was often expressed in informal, customary understandings among neighbors and

in oral deals...” Meanwhile, the American legal system saw land in terms of private

21 María E. Montoya, Translating Property: The Maxwell Land Grant and the Conflict over Land in the American West, 1840-1900 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2002), 5.

13

property rights that were “vested in only one owner and then expressed in clear,

specific, and legally complete documents.”22 This difference in cultural attitudes

toward land ownership, which Montoya explores in depth, has defined the San Luis

land conflict. It has also shaped the San Luis community’s resistance strategies.

Montoya’s work gives it a larger significance, by linking it to other land conflicts in

the region. My study will contribute to our understanding of the legal, social and

political consequences of the American take-over of the American Southwest and the

collision of two land systems.

This study examines the long history of social activism in San Luis,

Colorado. While tracing the roots of late 20th century activism, it focuses particular

attention on the post-1960 era, when activists faced their most significant challenge

and came together to form the Land Rights Council of San Luis, in 1978. My study

will end in 2002, with the ruling that many called a “miracle.” Chapter one provides

a brief description of the geography, the people, and some of the communal practices

at the heart of the San Luis community and identity. The second chapter will explore

the long tradition of social mobilization in the community, from the 1860s to the 1965

defeat in District Court. Highlighting episodes of collective action, this chapter will

trace the rise of a “culture of opposition,” that came to define the community and

which became the basis for a more persistent, sophisticated activism in the 1970s.

Chapter three, covering the years 1965 to 1979 will look at the emergence of the Land

Rights Council of San Luis. More specifically, this chapter examines the individuals,

groups, and larger historical forces that contributed to its founding and to its political

strategies, namely a legal strategy supported by grassroots coalitional politics. By 22 Ibid., 4.

14

1980, the LRC remained firmly committed to a legal strategy, hiring an attorney and

filing its suit in Federal Court. Chapter four will explore this first phase—1980 to

1993—of the Rael v. Taylor lawsuit. The final chapter, covering the years 1993 to

2002, attempts to follow the LRC’s maneuverings through some difficult and

complex years. When the state of Colorado entered the picture, proposing a

compromise solution, the San Luis community fractured, and the LRC found itself

fighting not only Taylor, but also a rival organization which saw itself in opposition

to the “left-leaning radicals” of the LRC. Chapter five explores how the LRC dealt

with such challenges—namely by sticking to their original strategy and broadening

their coalitional base. This final chapter culminates in the 2002 Colorado Supreme

Court victory ruling, which affirmed the community’s historic rights, vindicating the

claims of the Land Rights Council.

15

CHAPTER 1

“YOU CAN STEAL A MAN’S WIFE, BUT NEVER HIS WATER”: SAN LUIS

AND THE RISE OF A COMMUNAL ENVIRONMENTALISM

At the heart of the San Luis community’s political activism is a commitment

to an environmental ethos—a distinctly San Luis approach toward the natural

landscape. The local culture, shaped by the natural environment, is infused with a set

of communal values governing social interactions as well as the use of natural

resources in the community. In order to understand the community’s long history of

social activism in defense of its land rights, it is helpful to examine the communal

environmentalism that is central to the San Luis culture and identity.

In the late 20th century, a core group of grassroots activists in San Luis shaped

a narrative of resistance based on their community’s long history of sustainable

resource use. Through public lectures, protests, and media pronouncements, the

activists presented their community as the proper steward of La Sierra, and this

narrative became a central part of the community’s resistance movement in the

1970s-1990s. This stewardship narrative proved quite powerful and had both legal

and ecological dimensions. It also provided the foundation for the San Luis identity.

In the legal realm, the activists argued in court that their community possessed

historic land rights to the resources of La Sierra, dating back to the original settlers of

San Luis. Their continuous use of those resources, they asserted, constituted a valid

legal relationship to the mountain. In the more public political realm, activists argued

that the San Luis community had used La Sierra’s resources for generations in a

sustainable manner, which had protected the ecological well-being of the mountain.

16

The latter use of this narrative of stewardship emerged at a time when the

nation was becoming more aware of its dwindling resources and its wasteful

practices, culminating in the first Earth Day in 1970, and it would greatly affect local

politics.1 This narrative emerged when Jack Taylor fenced and then litigated the

people of San Luis off La Sierra, challenging their traditional uses of the mountain in

1960. Their very livelihood caused them to evaluate the situation and compare their

own history of resource use with his seemingly exploitative use of La Sierra’s

resources. Taylor was a lumberman, and shortly after purchasing the land he began

large-scale logging operations, which adversely affected the water supply on the

lowland farms. Locals decried his exploitive practices—as well as the legal injustices

that enabled him to continue them. Local activists began to assert their own history

of sustainable environmental stewardship, which became part of their public and

political identity and a crucial part of their resistance. Thus, while this self-conscious

environmentalism surfaced publicly only in the late 20th century, it was a way of life

for the community from its founding in the 1850s.

The San Luis community’s identity reflected an agrarian, subsistence-based,

communal approach to the natural environment. In doing so, this ethic explicitly

challenged the dominant land ethic that pervaded the American legal and political

system. By fashioning an environmental ethic based on their subsistence and

communal values, the San Luis activists claimed “ecological legitimacy,” as they

resisted challenges to their traditional land rights. “Ecological legitimacy” represents

a claim by a subaltern group that its approach to the natural landscape is ecologically

1 Robert Gottlieb, Forcing the Spring: The Transformation of the American Environmental Movement (Washington D.C.: Island Press, 1993), 7-8, 105-114.

17

sustainable. The subaltern group achieves this claim through “culturalism”—a

process by which the group constructs a narrative which features themselves as

“capable ecological stewards,” based on their cultural practices. Ultimately, the

“denigrated ethnic or national group” asserts this narrative, however romanticized, as

a counter-hegemonic discourse which challenges a dominant group’s environmental

practices as unsustainable and ultimately harmful to the natural environment.2

By cultivating and promoting a narrative of their community as the

ecologically legitimate stewards of their surrounding natural landscape, the San Luis

activists challenged the environmental practices of and the notions of property held

by the dominant American society and all who came into their community as agents

of that hegemonic society.

The emergence of San Luis’ environmentalism eventually enabled the LRC to

pursue one of its most successful political strategies, in the mid-1990s. LRC activists

plugged themselves into an emerging and highly visible environmental justice

movement in the mid-1990s. Their rich history of careful resource use and protection

enabled them to cross racial and class lines and to “speak to” white, upper-class

environmental groups who shared their environmental values. The LRC’s coalition

with environmental groups in the mid-1990s would be one of the most successful in

its history, as it emerged at a crucial moment in the movement. The

environmentalists’ flamboyant direct action tactics made the LRC’s lawsuit more

2 I have used Laura Pulido’s concept of “ecological legitimacy.” See: Laura Pulido, “Ecological Legitimacy and Cultural Essentialism: Hispano Grazing in the Southwest” in The Struggle for Ecological Democracy: Environmental Justice Movements in the United States ed. Daniel Faber, 293-297 (New York: The Guilford Press, 1998).

18

moderate and thus more palatable, while providing the group with resources with

which LRC members could spread their message.

Adopting the rhetoric of environmental justice and environmental

sustainability—both rooted in the community’s own brand of environmentalism and

resistance—at a time when such issues were gaining national attention allowed the

San Luis activists to further their claim to ecological legitimacy as well as to social

justice. While later chapters will look at how the community activists employed this

communal environmentalism in political ways, this chapter will describe the nature of

that environmental ethic, as well as the community that fashioned it. In short, this

chapter will present contextual information that will help readers appreciate the

complexity and contradictions of the San Luis people and their tradition of social

activism in defense of their historic land rights.

THE PLACE

The town of San Luis lies in the southeastern part of the San Luis Valley,

which straddles Colorado and New Mexico. The 122-mile long and 74-mile wide

valley sits mostly in the south-central part of Colorado, enclosed by the San Juan and

Sangre de Cristo Mountain ranges. Early Spanish explorers, inspired by the blood-

red color of the snow-covered mountains at dusk, named the latter after the blood of

Christ. The average elevation in the valley is about 7800 feet above sea level, making

it the highest alpine desert valley in North America. At that elevation, the winters are

long, making for a short growing season. Less than 15 inches of rain fall each year in

19

the valley, adding to the challenges that farmers and ranchers face. 3 In the words of

5th generation San Luis rancher and activist, Corpus Gallegos, “there’s no place in

this valley for a quitter.”4

Throughout the 19th century, as Americans moved westward into the

territories of Colorado and New Mexico, Anglo-American traders, boosters, and

politicians arrived in the San Luis Valley. Most of them wrote about the stunning

beauty of the valley’s landscape, noting also its tremendous natural resources. Many

of these early visitors would eventually play a role in the history of the San Luis

community. In fact, the history of the San Luis community is peppered with clashes

between the locals and outsiders, over the meanings and uses of the mountainous

landscape that surrounds San Luis—what many have termed the most contested piece

of real estate in Colorado. The early writings of Anglos visiting the San Luis

community provide not only vivid descriptions of the land and people of the valley,

but also offer useful comparisons to the values and customs of the local residents,

whose views of that same landscape were vastly different. One such visitor was

Colorado’s first territorial governor, William Gilpin.

In 1844, Gilpin left Pennsylvania and headed for the Pacific Northwest,

traveling through the San Luis Valley. He had soaked up stories of the west, as told

by early fur traders and soldiers who had been west. And, he joined John Charles

Fremont’s second expedition to the west, destined for Oregon. On their return, the

men traveled through the San Juan Valley and into the San Luis Valley. The group

stopped at Bent’s fort, where Gilpin learned of the Mexican land grant system, which

3 William Wyckoff, Creating Colorado: The Making of a Western American Landscape, 1860-1940 (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1999), 17-19. 4 “This Land Belonged to All of Us,” Los Angeles Times, November 17, 1993.

20

had been distributing enormous grants to individuals who pledged loyalty to Mexico.

Captivated by the lands of the Sangre de Cristo Land Grant, he vowed to return. In

1866, as part owner and booster of the land grant, he wrote of its beauty, employing

the powerful language of the romantics of his day: “From Fort Garland…14 miles

south is…the town of San Luis, upon the Culebra River…[t]he scenery, everywhere

sublime…[the] limpid, brilliant, and translucent atmosphere…the perfect symmetry

of configurations in nature and the intense variety in the forms and splendor of the

landscape. The colors of the sky and atmosphere are intensely vivid and gorgeous…”

Gilpin’s appreciation of the landscape was not wholly aesthetic, for he also

commented extensively on the valley’s resources—resources available to enterprising

Americans moving westward. He cited the accessibility of the precious metals of the

valley to the “great commercial cities” of the east. In sum, he concluded that San

Luis offered “[a]ll the elements of a perfect economy, food, health, geographical

position, innumerable mines of the richest ores…”5 Gilpin indeed acted upon this

view of the land as a source of profit—a view he shared with his business partners.

Like Gilpin, William Blackmore, an investor from London, was also

mesmerized by the beauty of the San Luis landscape—and by the potential for profit

in the land’s abundant natural resources. He became one of the region’s biggest

boosters in the late 1860s and early 1870s. In his 1869 publication, he aimed to lure

5 Honorable Colonel William Gilpin, ex-Governor of Colorado, “The San Luis Park: Description of the geography of the landscape,” Written from San Luis di [sic] Culebra, 1866, 6-10. This text is included in William Blackmore, Colorado: Its Resources, Parks and Prospects as a New Field for Emigration with an account of the Trenchera[sic] and Costilla Estates in the San Luis Park (London: Sampson Low, Son, and Marston, 1869), 121; Thomas L. Karnes, William Gilpin: Western Nationalist (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1970), 5, 26, 74, 301; Christopher Schnell, “William Gilpin and the Destruction of the Desert Myth,” The Colorado Magazine Vol. 46, no. 2 (1969):133-134; See also, Hubert Howe Bancroft, History of the Life of William Gilpin: A Character Study (San Francisco: The History Company, 1889), 8-10.

21

investors with his descriptions of five-pound potatoes and 40-pound cabbages. He

also argued that potentially great profits lay in the sheep industry, which at the time

was dominated by Mexicans, whose sheep “could barely be called a sheep,” since the

quality of their wool was so poor. Blackmore insisted that with a little knowledge

and effort, “the hardy Mexican sheep could be improved upon.”6

He and Gilpin shared a view of the “Mexican” locals as inferior to the Anglo

American population. Both saw them as a race of people who lacked the abilities to

develop the land to its potential. Gilpin, in particular, wrote disparagingly of the

“Mexico American” race as having a “taste for seclusion” and an “instinctive terror of

the ocean,” both which prevented them from engaging in profitable commerce

activities and relegated them to such backward economic practices. Being

enterprising men, however, both eventually turned what they saw as an indolent

population into an asset—indeed a resource—that could be exploited by potential

investors. Both saw the Mexican people in San Luis as a viable labor force, a people

whose “primitive skill” would complement the “intelligence” of progressive-minded

Americans.7

Well into the late 20th century, local activists in San Luis continued to refer to

men like Gilpin and Blackmore as perpetrators of crimes against their community.

Their reputations as the earliest thieves and exploiters of the environment and of the

6 William Gilpin, “The San Luis Park: Description of the geography of the landscape,” Written from San Luis di [sic] Culebra, 1866, 6-10, William Gilpin Collection, Colorado Historical Society, Denver, Colorado. This same text is also included in Blackmore, Colorado: Its Resources, Parks and Prospects, 121, 168. See also William Blackmore, “Investments in land in Colorado and New Mexico with Especial reference to their prospective increase in value in consequence of the extension of Railroads through those regions combined with their Salubrious Climate, and Mineral, Pastoral, and Agricultural resources,” (London: Witherby and Co, 1876), 35-41. This last source is clearly intended to lure potential investors to the San Luis region. 7 Ibid.

22

people have reached mythic proportions. Gilpin, Blackmore, and their associates

became easy foils against which activists compared their own people’s use of

resources, asserting their community’s role as the ecologically legitimate stewards of

the La Sierra landscape. For example, in 1974, activist Apolinar Rael described

Anglos like William Blackmore, William Gilpin, and others as the “original tradores

(traitors) de la rasa (raza)” [of the people].8 Others associated Gilpin with the long

list of outsider politicians and businessmen who had come in and taken from the

community and violated the communal culture of San Luis with their irresponsible

resource use.9 While this narrative has proven successful as a political tool, the actual

San Luis landscape and people are, of course, infinitely more interesting and

complex.

Nestled in the southeast portion of the San Luis Valley, the town of San Luis

serves as the county seat for Costilla County. Most of the county’s residents reside in

the small towns that comprise the larger San Luis community—San Luis, San Acacio,

San Pablo, San Pedro, Chama, and San Francisco—which is a group of villages

linked by culture, geography, and politics. Recent census data reveal that Latinos

comprise about 67.6% of the county’s population—a number that is even larger when

the non-Latino absentee landowners are excluded. This statistic, however, is

8 Apolinar Rael, San Pablo, to Deborah Gallegos, Alamosa, 27 January 1974, Personal Papers of Gloria Rael Maestas, San Luis, CO. Rael’s use of “tradores” must be interpreted within the context of the quote. Rael was alluding to the fact that Gilpin, et al, cheated the local raza—the local people, not that they were “race traitors.” 9 Joseph C. Gallegos, interview by author, San Luis, CO, 18 December 2001, tape recording, personal files of author; Gloria Rael Maestas, interview by author, San Luis, CO, 18 December 2002, tape recording, personal files of author; Eugene Martinez, interview by author, San Luis, CO, 17 December 2001, tape recording, personal files of author; “Sin Agua, No Hay Vida,” Produced by Wet Mountain Productions, video recording, 1999.

23

especially revealing when one considers that Latinos comprise only 17.1% of the

state’s population.10

In addition to serving as the political hub of the county, San Luis serves as the

spiritual center for the county and indeed for the region. Roman Catholic religious

buildings and shrines dominate its built landscape. In addition to the Sangre de Cristo

Parish, its adjoining rectory, smaller mission churches in each of the villages, a

church-run Bed and Breakfast, and a parish hall, which serves as public meeting

place, San Luis also prides itself with its nationally-recognized shrine of the Stations

of the Cross. The shrine, located along an ascending trail on La Mesa de la Piedad y

de la Misericordia (The Mesa of Piety and Mercy) adjacent to Main Street, consists

of 13 life-size bronze statues, created by local artist Huberto Maestas. Each one

represents one of the Stations of the Cross. At the top of the mesa sits an elegant,

Spanish-Moorish-styled chapel—La Capilla de Todos Santos (All Saints Chapel).

Constructed by local architect and activist Arnold Valdez, the white-washed adobe

chapel, with its Islamic-inspired domes and Spanish-inspired steeples, is an

architectural masterpiece that represents the community’s links with its history, while

celebrating its emergence as a cultural and religious center in the 21st century.

Pilgrims come from everywhere in the world to see the shrine and to pray in the

chapel.

On one wall of the Sangre de Cristo Parish courtyard, a nearly-to-scale mural

bursts with color. It shows the beloved parish priest, Father Pat Valdez, surrounded

by people, representing the many faces of the San Luis community. Some are labeled

10 “Labor of ancestral love cultivates area's heritage: In history-rich Costilla County, one man returns to the family farm, committed to reviving his agricultural roots and to merging the old ways with the new,” The Denver Post, July 21, 2004.

24

with actual names. In the background lie the mountainous peaks of La Sierra, and in

the foreground lie flowers native to the area. The mural is dedicated, by the “people

in the mural, Father Pat and Father Lucas with God’s help” to the grandmother of

Jesus, Santa Ana, and to Mother Mary. In the foreground of the mural, individuals of

all ages hold up framed portraits of deceased family members and saints, along with

sayings such as “Please respect our faith in God, Amen,” “Love each other,” and

“God’s children come in all colors.”11 The images suggest a community devoted to a

core set of values centered on family, faith, community, and La Sierra.

Economically, subsistence farming and ranching have dominated San Luis

since its initial settlement, though some ranchers have at times run larger commercial

operations. The ranching economy flourished as a result of the communal land rights

that allowed locals to use the grazing lands on La Sierra. When those rights were lost

in the 1960s, the local economy bottomed out. Since that time Costilla County has

been the poorest county in Colorado. In 1999, 34.3% of its residents held incomes

below the poverty line. The average household income in 2000 was $14,213,

compared with the $50,652 state average. The 2000 census revealed that 26.8% of

individuals and 21.3% of families were living in poverty. A decade earlier, 34.6% of

individuals and 27.5% of families were below the poverty line, with 70% of residents

receiving some sort of public assistance. Experts cite the increase in tourism and the

arrival of a large number of retirees as reasons for the economic improvement.

Despite such improvement, Costilla County remains the poorest county in the state.12

11 Personal Observations of author, September 3, 2005. 12 “Poverty in Costilla County still highest in Colorado,” Colorado Springs Gazette, June 5, 2002; “Position Paper,” La Sierra Foundation of San Luis, Submitted and Sponsored by The Costilla County Conservancy District, San Luis, CO, October 1993.

25

Much of the history of San Luis remains etched in its physical geography. For

example, the original settlement patterns are still visible in the landscape. When

Carlos Beaubien received possession of the million acre land grant in 1847, he and

his associate Joseph (José) Pley launched a major campaign to recruit settlers from

more populated areas of Mexico. They offered potential settlers a deed as

compensation for settling on the potentially dangerous northern frontier. “For each

single man 50 varras [sic] of land on a river, east and west, and to a married man 100

varras [sic], all conditions being alike.”13 Distributing land in long, narrow vara

strips—a practice widespread throughout the American Southwest—maximized the

number of households with access to a water source, as each vara strip was bounded

by a stream on one end and the mountainous common lands on the other. Vara strips

were about 33.3 inches wide, and could be up to many miles long. Because the varas

were long and narrow, farmers could also avoid the tedious chore of turning their

oxen and plows around frequently, as vara strips could be miles long. The vara strips

were individually owned, yet, they could not provide the settlers with everything they

needed, as there was no wildlife or wood source.14

Beaubien offered all settlers access to La Sierra for hunting, fishing, wood

collecting, grazing, and recreation. Consistent with Mexican custom, he also set aside

13 John L. Gaspar, “Beaubien Land Grant,” Communication to the Historical Society of the State of Colorado, Sept. 8, 1923. MSS 374, Land Grant Collection, Colorado Historical Society, Denver, Colorado. Mr. Gaspar served as agent to Mr. Beaubien, during 1863 and 1864, under a power of attorney granted by the courts. In April of 1923, Mr. Thomas Dawson, the curator of the Colorado Historical Society, wrote to Mr. Gaspar, requesting information about Charles Beaubien, the man, and his role in the Sangre de Cristo land grant. Mr. Gaspar later answered this request with this 8-page, typed report of everything he could recall about Mr. Beaubien and the history of the land grant, as well as the involvement of prominent San Luis residents A.A. and Delfino Salazar. 14 Marianne L. Stoller, “Report on the History and Claims for Usufruct Rights by the Residents of the Culebra River Villages on Portions of the Sangre de Cristo Land Grant,” (unpublished manuscript) on file with Civil Action No. 81CV5, Espinoza v. Taylor, Costilla County District Court, State of Colorado, 38-39; Eugene Martinez, interview; Gloria Rael Maestas, interview.

26

a lowland common land, known as the Vega, for communal use. Situated adjacent to

the original plaza, the Vega initially consisted of 1685 acres, yet in the early part of

the 20th century, a series of court decisions and encroachments has led to its reduction

to 633 acres.15 The Vega has served as winter pasture, when the mountainous grazing

areas could not be accessed. It has also served as pasture for injured animals in need

of closer attention from their owners. Through the years, local leaders have set

regulations regarding the use of the ecologically-vulnerable Vega. In recent years,

this has meant that each landowner can only place up to four animals on the Vega.16

One must assume that it was difficult for Beaubien and Pley to lure settlers

onto the grant lands, given the uneasiness that existed as a result of the U.S.-Mexican

War as well as the Ute and Comanche populations that remained hostile to Mexican

encroachment. In addition, a violent revolt in Taos in 1847 pitted native-born

Mexicans and Indians against Anglo “foreigners,” indicating that racial and national

tensions were already volatile. Yet, despite claims that San Luis was the first

permanent settlement on the grant in 1851, historical evidence suggests that the first

settlements on the grant took place at Old San Acacio in 1850 and Garcia in 1849.17

Some even claim that Mexican settlers from Questa, New Mexico, as early as the

1830s, ventured into what is today San Francisco during summers to raise crops and

graze their animals.18 Regardless, the first documented settlers in 1850 came north to

15 Stoller, “Report on the History and Claims”; Eugene Martinez, interview; Gloria Rael Maestas, interview. 16 Testimony of Eugene Martinez, Civil Action No. 81CV5 Espinoza v. Taylor, Costilla County District Court, State of Colorado, trial transcript, 1809-1811. 17 Stoller, “Report on the History and Claims” 33. 18 Levi Medina, interview. Mr. Medina cited conversations with Emilio Lobato, who had heard such stories from his ancestors.

27

San Luis de la Culebra from Taos and Rio Arriba counties in New Mexico.19 By

1860, almost 1800 people lived in 236 households on the grant. Interestingly, twenty-

three of these households were headed by women. The early settlers’ occupations

included farmers, farm laborers—most of whom lived with their fathers—adobe

makers, servants, carpenters, blacksmiths and merchants.20

The “servants” category would have included young Indian men and

women—many of them Navajo—who worked for the more prominent Mexican

families. This practice was quite common in the Mexican settlements of the valley.

Prior to the Civil War, these laborers held a status no higher than black slaves;

however, after the Civil War, Mexican families had to prove that they were no longer

coercing the servants to remain under their possession. The young Indian men and

women often served as shepherds, general laborers, or domestic servants, and they

often took the last name of the family for whom they worked. The Gallegos family—

a prominent sheep ranching and merchant family—held at least five Indian servants.21

The initial San Luis settlement was thus agricultural, expanding and permanent. It

was also becoming more economically stratified. Even so, survival remained tenuous

for all.

19 Stoller, “Report on the History and Claims,” 41-43. The initial settlers named the town San Luis de la Culebra, since they founded the settlement along the Culebra River, their main water source. 20 Marianne L. Stoller, “The Surveys of the Sangre de Cristo Grant, or, How to Expand the Boundaries,” (unpublished manuscript) presented at the 1983 Western Social Science Association Land Grant Conference, Personal Papers, Marianne L. Stoller, Colorado Springs, Colorado; Stoller, “Report on the History and Claims,” 10-12; Marianne L. Stoller, “Preliminary Manuscript on the History of the Sangre de Cristo Land Grant and the Claims of the People of the Culebra River Villages on Their Lands;, expert witness report, on file with Civil Action No. 81CV5, Espinoza v. Taylor, Costilla County District Court, State of Colorado. 21 “Early Days of the Posthoff-Meyers Stores,” Vol. 349, Document #21, Colorado Writer’s Project, Civil Works Administration, 1933-1934, 81-86; “Luiz Valdez,” Vol. 349, Document #23, Colorado Writer’s Project, Civil Works Administration, 1933-1934, 96-98; “Further Information from San Luis and Vicinity: Part II,” Volume 349, Document #27B, Colorado Writer’s Project, Civil Works Administration, 1933-1934, 104-105. These Indian servants, or slaves, were often called Creados and were common in more prominent families.

28

SHAPING A COMMUNAL ENVIRONMENTALISM

Despite the rich natural resources of the region, the arid climate, the short

growing season, and the isolation from larger population centers proved challenging.

The early settlers developed a dependency on and reverence for La Sierra, which each

generation perpetuated. Out of that dependency and reverence, the San Luis

community fashioned ecologically sustainable practices that both shaped and

reflected a communal culture and an environmental ethic that would become integral

to the community’s identity and political mobilization in the 20th century. They

became the backbone of how one interacted with the mountain. Activist Eugene

Martinez explained this ethic:

“…Native Americans had this spiritual Mother Earth thing for the land, which I think we have adopted from them…you start thinking about a hill, or a place, or a trail, or a certain rock outcropping…like it’s almost another entity…something more than just a rock, so you develop this connection to it…and when somebody takes something away like that from you, it’s like they…sever something.”22

The community’s environmental ethic is not limited to La Sierra. It is an ethic

that they express toward all physical landscapes—the vega, their individual vara

strips, and, as the following quote shows, toward all “Sierras.”

“…I am concerned about every mountain in the world. Right now there is a forest fire going on in Denver, around that area. We are concerned, we don’t like—we don’t like for the mountains or anything to be destroyed. There’s a big fire going on up there. There was another one sometime ago. So, we are all concerned about the sierras all over the world.”23

This environmental responsibility was something taught by parents to their

children. According to Charlie Jaquez, “This message of caring for the natural

22 Eugene Martinez, interview. 23 Testimony of Eugene Lobato, Civil Action No. 81CV5 Espinoza v. Taylor, Costilla County District Court, State of Colorado, trial transcript, 1192.

29

environment was instilled in the youth. We had to take care of our mountain if we

were to have enough food and water in the future.”24 Two systems, in particular,

highlight how the San Luis community has fashioned a sustainable communal

approach to its use of La Sierra’s natural resources.

The acequia system offers a window into the communal environmentalism at

the heart of the San Luis identity. One of the most serious challenges to the survival

of the San Luis community has been its lack of water, and the community’s way of

addressing that challenge illustrates its communal approach to water management. In

fact, the ranchers and farmers in San Luis have a saying. “You can steal a man’s

wife, but never his water.”25 This saying attests to the community’s jealous

protection of its water sources. In order to prosper in the arid climate of the San Luis

Valley, the first settlers built an intricate series of irrigation ditches, which they called

an acequia. The acequia system has its roots in the earliest Spanish and Mexican

colonial settlements in the Southwest, as well as in local indigenous practices. The

San Luis Acequia Association operates similarly to how it did under the first

settlers—as a governing body overseeing all water usage in the community. A

mayordomo, who serves as the acequia’s president, is in charge of all enforcement of

water distribution. He also makes sure that all water users clean their ditches and

perform their share of the maintenance on the community’s irrigation ditches. The

24 Charlie Jaquez, interview. 25 Joseph C. Gallegos, “Acequia Tales,” in Subversive Kin: Chicano Culture, Ecology, Politics, ed. Devon Peña (Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 1998), 239.

30

system is communally-based, and those who try to cheat or steal water are ostracized

and punished by the other stakeholders of the ditch.26

Members of the Association speak with reverence for the land and its

resources, as well as for their ancestors who devised such a plan. “They [our

ancestors] used [the system] almost to the point of spiritualism,” mayordomo Joseph

Gallegos claimed. The belief was “if we don’t all work together, we’re not going to

have any water for anyone. So they were forced by that natural resource to unite and

form a community, and to have leaders” who would enforce the laws so that the ditch

would function effectively. “It was a big deal if you didn’t clean your ditch. It was

big time,” he recalled, “So that community was set up first, and then all the acequias,

one ditch, would meet with other ditches, and would form…an association system.

And that’s why these communities would get together.”27

Thus, it was the acequia association that provided the initial impetus for the

community to come together and function as a united people. Such unity was woven

into the fabric of the association. The Acequia Association “is a hub where all these

acequias can come in and get information, get loans, look for improvements…help

them to handle water rights issues, conserve, and help acequias to maintain

their…sovereignty,”28 The acequia was the central organization, and out of that

organization grew a sense of communal responsibility for protecting the natural

resources, which would shape the heart of the San Luis community and identity. 26 Devon Peña and Gregory Hicks, “Community Acequias in Colorado’s Rio Culebra Watershed: A Customary Commons in the Domain of Prior Appropriations,” 74 University of Colorado Law Review 2, 387-395, 403 (2003); Joseph C. Gallegos, interview. For a detailed description and examination of Acequia systems and their cultural significance in Hispano communities of Northern New Mexico, see Sylvia Rodriguez, Acequia: Water Sharing, Sanctity, and Place (Santa Fe: School for Advanced Research, 2006). 27 Joseph Gallegos, interview. 28 Peña and Hicks, “Community Acequias,” 403.

31

“…we do not like to believe that we are just a ditch; we’re a community. We’re an ecosystem…we’re more sustainable…when people look around, ‘Oh, how beautiful San Luis is.’ Why? Because of the acequias—the landscape. Those acequias created our landscape.”29

This same responsibility to protect a communal resource can be seen in the way

the community historically grazed their animals on La Sierra. Grazing domesticated

animals on La Sierra was a primary occupation for many of the San Luis residents.

Ranchers knew that unregulated grazing of large herds of animals would destroy

native grasses, and thus destroy their livelihood. Sheep grazing, in particular, was

known by all to be particularly damaging to pastures. Locals responded to this threat

by employing strict regulations for all who ran their sheep and cattle on La Sierra.

Overgrazing was looked down upon by all.30

To avoid friction between sheep herders and cattle ranchers, community members

devised a set of informal regulations and customs that dictated when and where

ranchers could take their animals on the mountain. Through the “el comienda”

system, local ranchers claimed certain pastures on La Sierra for the use of their

animals. Once a ranching family claimed a certain area on La Sierra, others

recognized that claim and avoided letting their animals wander onto that area. For

example, on the area of La Sierra known as the “Salazar tract,” people were,

according to rancher Emilio Lobato, “assigned certain areas…to take their

sheep…They…had a rule that the first in time would get to use the area. And

everyone respected that. In fact, most of those canyons were called by the same

29 Ibid. 30 Gloria Rael Maestas, interview.

32

of…the person that was entitled to use that area.”31 These areas were called el

comiendas or encomiendas. “A person would…graze a certain area, that was his

encomienda. And that is where he would graze his sheep.”32

Further, local ranchers knew exactly what types of plants on La Sierra would

be best for both sheep and cattle, and through their careful regulation of grazing

practices, they took particular care to prevent overgrazing of these areas. This

knowledge was passed down through generations, and according to Emilio Lobato,

enabled San Luis ranchers to raise sheep and cattle that could withstand the harsh

winters of the Valley. Cattle that do not graze on La Sierra are always thin and

require constant feeding.

“The reason for taking them up the mountains was because of the great variety of plants…caused by the amount of precipitation…that…makes those mountains produce a great variety of plants that are very good for sheep and cattle…certain plants make these animals grow very fat…we call it…yellow tallow, which enables them to survive the severe winters that we have here...my dad used to mention, palo negro and palo pinto, that must have had a lot of protein and made the animals grow much bigger.”33 The partido represented another local custom, designed to conserve the resources

of la Sierra, while grazing animals. Partido contracts were only employed by the

largest sheep owners, in order to pay the herders who took their flocks to the

mountains. “Partido was a customary way of handling grazing ranching situations.

Partido contract was a contract between the owner of a flock, usually, of sheep, that

31 Testimony of Emilio Lobato, Jr. Civil Action No. 81CV5 Espinoza v. Taylor, Costilla County District Court, State of Colorado, trial transcript,, 1338-1339. 32 Testimony of Emilio Lobato, Jr., 1343-1350. In the trial transcript, both terms—“el comienda” and “encomienda”—are used interchangeably. It is likely the court reporter heard both terms during the course of the testimony. I have heard both terms used among locals. It is interesting to note that this system is quite different from the encomienda system run by the Spanish in the 17th century in New Mexico, which consisted of grants of Indian labor, made to Spanish settlers; Stoller, “Report on the History and Claims,” 57-58. 33 Testimony of Emilio Lobato, Jr., 1256-57.

33

particularly applied to sheep…the contract went to the partidero…it was a shares

system.” The partidero would take care of the sheep for the owner, and would be

entitled to a certain number of lambs born to that flock. The “contract would specify

how many shares existed…what percentage of the flock [the partidero] would get.”34

The partido system also enabled community members, who could not leave their

lowland farms for months at a time, to send their flocks to graze on La Sierra. This

group often included single or widowed women, whose childrearing and house duties

required them to be in the home.35 This communal aspect of the partido system

further encouraged the development of a collective identity among the San Luis

community.

In addition to the economic benefits of partido contracts, there were also

environmental benefits. Along with the contract, there were regulations which

dictated where grazing could take place. For the largest sheep owners, this was a

highly regulated system—much more formal than those set up and observed by small

sheep owners. The partido system protected La Sierra’s grasses from becoming

overgrazed, while at the same time, the system fostered a unity and cooperation

among sheep owners and partideros.36 This sense of community contributed to a

strong unity, which enabled the community to fight outside threats to its land rights.

“…the sheep people…are very united, they…have so many things in common…it’s like a family, only everybody had their sheep on different—different places, they would take care of them in different ways. But, everybody—all the sheep people knew each other.”37

34 Testimony of Marianne L. Stoller, Civil Action No. 81CV5 Espinoza v. Taylor, Costilla County District Court, State of Colorado, trial transcript,, 1735; Testimony of Norman Richard Maestas, 2154-2173; Stoller, “Report on the History and Claims,” 56-57. 35 Testimony of Eugene Martinez, 1799-1802; Testimony of Norman Richard Maestas, 2154-2156. 36 Testimony of Marianne L. Stoller, 1735. 37 Testimony of Eugene Lobato, 1196.

34

It would be no accident that the most radical organizations—formed to protect the

community’s rights—would begin in Chama, where the communal practice of sheep

herding was most prevalent.

CELEBRATING COMMUNITY IN SONG AND RITUAL

Just months after Apolinar Rael, Ray Otero, and Shirley Romero founded the

Land Rights Council of San Luis in 1978, Tierra y Libertad, the print voice of the

LRC, published a corrido, or ballad, written by Chama resident Felix Abeyta. The

ballad was later reprinted in a summer 1997 issue of the same newspaper, which had

been revived and published under the newly formed Culebra Coalition—a coalition of

social and environmental justice groups that the LRC helped form in 1997. The

ballad, written in Spanish, celebrates the resistance spirit of the people of Chama, and

the larger community. Some of the first political leaders came out of the village of

Chama, which was primarily a sheep ranching community. Chama ranchers were the

first to suffer the effects of losing their communal rights to La Sierra’s grazing areas.

This ballad celebrates that resistance and praises the individuals and the organizations

that led the fight for La Sierra. Ray Otero, Apolinar Rael and the Chicano newspaper

La Cucaracha all receive mention in the ballad, as heroes of the struggle. Inherent in

the poem is the love affair between a community and the mountainous landscape that

had sustained it for generations.38

A second example, written in English, in the mid-1990s reflects a critique of

not only an unscrupulous Jack Taylor, but also of the local police force, who had

38 “Corrido de Chama,” Tierra y Libertad, Summer 1997.

35

failed to protect La Sierra against exploitive logging practices. The ballad, sung to

the tune of “Old MacDonald Had a Farm,” begins with:

“Old Jack Taylor stole some land…E-I-E-I-O And on this land he built a fence…E-I-E-I-O With a BANG BANG here and a BANG BANG there. Here a BANG. There a BANG. Everywhere a BANG BANG. Old Jack Taylor stole some land…E-I-E-I-O…”

In the next stanza, Jack Taylor rips off the local people and teaches his son, Zach, to

steal. By the third stanza, the local police had become Taylor’s allies.

“Jack Taylor bought a little lambe, little lambe, little lambe. Jack Taylor fed his lambe donuts And it grew up to be a big hog. With an OINK OINK here and an OINK OINK there…”

The third stanza refers to the logging trucks and the local authorities’ refusal to

support the local protestors, who were chaining themselves to logging trucks and to

ranch gates, in order to prevent the continued destruction of La Sierra forests.

“Now logging trucks tear up the road…E-I-E-I-O But the hog can’t move ‘cause he’s overloaded…E-I-E-I-O With a donut here and a sixpack there. Here’s a churro. There a taco. Everywhere a six pack…”39 In the final lines, the people vow to get the mountain back “ante la explotacion de

nuestros recursos…Que Viva Sierra Libre!” [before the exploitation of our resources,

long live Sierra Free!]

The above ballads imply that La Sierra was worth fighting for, and that to

resist Jack Taylor’s perceived theft of the mountain and his ruthless exploitation of its

resources is a responsibility of the San Luis community, and that to refuse this

39 “Old Jack Taylor Stole Some Land,” ballad, author unknown, Personal Papers of Eugene Martinez, San Francisco, Colorado.

36

responsibility meant that one violated the San Luis communally-based, ecologically-

sustainable ethos.

Every year, before 1960, the San Luis community gathered on La Sierra for its

Cuatro Julio [Fourth of July] celebration. Families assembled in a meadow near the

San Francisco Creek—one of the most beloved places on La Sierra. Many San Luis

residents, who are old enough to have participated, recall this gathering with great

emotion. The beauty of the surrounding landscape was matched only by the laughter

and good cheer experienced by those who attended. Traditionally, men engaged in

horse races and rodeo events and ended the celebration by collectively gathering

wood for the winter, while women picked berries to make jams and jellies. They also

collected herbs for medicinal purposes: peppermint for stomach aches and chamiso

for sore throats. After dark, those families who planned to camp for the night spent

the night playing cards by the light of their kerosene lamps.40

To this day, Cuatro Julio conjures memories of communal labor in

preparation for the long winter, recreation, and the community’s emotional

connection with La Sierra. It also conjures memories of ecologically-sensitive

practices. When gathering wood, the men took only dried wood. Green trees were

off limits, and watershed areas were strictly off limits.41 Community members did

leave their marks on La Sierra.

Numerous landmarks on La Sierra signify sacred places and significant events

or people. These have included carvings in Aspen trees that memorialize special

events and people, shelters constructed by shepherds or hunters, and mojoneras. For

40 Levi Medina, interview; Agatha Medina, interview; Shirley Romero-Otero, interview by author, Denver, CO, 9 June 2005, tape recording, personal files of author. 41 Levi Medina, interview; Agatha Medina, interview.

37

generations, people have left mojoneras in specific areas on the mountain. There is

some dispute over the meaning of these large rock piles. Some say they were left by

Native Americans to indicate sacred areas, while others say they were constructed by

pastores [shepherds] who constructed them out of boredom. Still others say they

might be trail markers, which the shepherds followed.42 Regardless of their meaning,

the San Luis community views them as one way their ancestors have left their cultural

mark on La Sierra, symbolizing a long tradition of dependence on the resources of the

mountain.

Prior to his death in July 1993, activist Apolinar Rael led his community in a

fight for its legal rights to La Sierra. Although he had only a fourth grade education,

he was a repository of community history, and he knew there were legal promises—

and documents to prove them—that the San Luis people were the legal stewards of La

Sierra. He also believed that he and his people were the rightful stewards of the

mountain’s fragile ecosystem. In his 80s and 90s, Rael became one of the major

contributors to a narrative that celebrated, and indeed preserved, the communally-

based, ecologically-sustainable environmental ethic of his community.

Throughout his life, Rael offered this quote to describe his community’s

relationship to the mountain: “La Sierra le pertenese a Dios y nosotros le

pertenesemos a la Sierra.” [The mountain belongs to God, and we belong to the

mountain.]43 This has become a central facet to the San Luis narrative. The

42 Levi Medina, interview; Agatha Medina, interview; “La Sierra Sustainable Management Plan,” presented by Arnold Valdez, “It’s the land grants that bind us!,” Colorado and New Mexico Land Grant Conference, 4 August 2007, San Luis, Colorado. 43 Gloria Rael Maestas, “Tribute to Apolinar Rael,” in The Upper Rio Grande Legacy, (Denver: Colorado Historical Society, 1995), 333-334.

38

following chapters will follow the ways that community activists employed this

narrative in their political struggles to defend their rights to the mountain.

39

CHAPTER 2

THE RISE OF A CULTURE OF OPPOSITION, 1863-1965

Late one summer day in the 1870s, Juan Gonzales, one of the earliest settlers

in San Luis, was finishing up his work, when he encountered an unexpected visitor to

his ranch. Costilla County Clerk, W.H. Meyers, was informing a number of San

Luis’ Spanish-surnamed settlers to vacate their lands and relocate to other locations,

in order to make room for development.1

Meyers, who had arrived from Denver, had financial interests in the cattle

business and wanted to clear lands—lowland vara strips occupied by the town’s

original settlers—to serve his and his partners’ interests. Late that afternoon Meyers

arrived at the ranch of Juan Gonzales, to order him to move out. Gonzales, who had

refused previous requests to vacate his ranch land, had no intention of complying, but

he knew how to the play the game.2

When Meyers told Gonzales he would have to leave, Gonzales replied, “when

you want me to move[?]” Meyers responded that he wanted Gonzales out by the next

day. Gonzales, pointing out that it was already late in the day, and that he could not

possibly begin moving right away, told Mr. Meyers to “come help me move.” Taking

the bait, Mr. Meyers agreed. The next morning, Juan Gonzales met Meyers at his

gate—with his “30-30” shotgun. Gonzales asked, “’where you want me to

move[?]’…[while] charging [the] 30-30 caliber to charge the chamber.” Meyers

1 Meyers had made no secret of his desire to profit from the land and resources of the areas surrounding the towns of San Luis, San Pablo, San Pedro, and Chama. He arrived in the settlement around the same time that other land speculators, such as William Gilpin and William Blackmore, introduced their own plans for developing the land. Meyers would serve as county clerk from the late 1870s to the early 1880s. 2 Apolinar Rael to Deborah Gallegos, 27 January 1974.

40

pleaded with Gonzales not to shoot, “Don’t shut [shoot] Juanito, that is your place as

long as you live.” Gonzales had defended his right to remain on his land—a right that

had been guaranteed in the 1848 Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo.3 Following this

encounter with Gonzales, Meyers and his two business partners recorded the

mysterious disappearance of many of their cattle.4 There is, however, no record of

anyone being convicted of cattle theft.

This episode illustrates one of the earliest recorded incidents of grassroots

resistance in the San Luis community toward outsiders who challenged the settlers’

land rights. While Juan Gonzales acted alone in this particular incident, his resistance

to wealthy, politically-powerful Meyers reflects a larger tradition of grassroots

mobilization in the San Luis community. As early as the 1860s until the 1960s,

residents of San Luis engaged in political activism aimed at resisting attempts by

outsiders to infringe upon their land and water rights. They did so by first forming

grassroots organizations and then using forums such as the media, direct action, and

the courts to make their voices heard. Over time, community members developed a

sense of collective identity rooted in a “culture of opposition,” which had emerged

gradually over time.5 This culture of resistance would enable the community to wage

a more sustainable and successful social movement in the late 20th century.

3 Although the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo was signed in 1848, the fact that the Sangre de Cristo grant was distributed in 1843 meant that the settlers on the grant lands followed the customs and settlement promises of the original grant. These promises were guaranteed by the 1848 Treaty. 4 Apolinar Rael to Deborah Gallegos, 27 January 1974. 5 In discussing the formation of a collective identity of opposition, I have borrowed from Robin D.G. Kelley, “‘We Are Not What We Seem’: Rethinking Black Working-Class Opposition in the Jim Crow South,” in The Journal of American History, Vol. 80, No. 1 (June 1993), pp. 75-112; I argue that a culture of opposition developed over time, though the efforts of the San Luis community to resist outside attempts to infringe upon its land and water rights. Despite what I see as a gradual move toward radicalism and militancy, the historical evidence does not suggest a consistent sense of what activists saw as their rights as American citizens. They defined their rights only in terms of the rights

41

While these early efforts often enjoyed moments of success, formal

recognition of their rights by the American courts eluded activists. For a number of

reasons, these efforts fell short. Specifically, the geographic isolation of the

community made it difficult for residents to culturally and linguistically assimilate

into the larger American society. At the same time, the community’s devotion to the

Catholic faith often downplayed the significance of political resistance, while its lack

of financial resources prevented any large-scale resistance. In addition, a national

atmosphere unfriendly toward minority groups and civil rights movements inhibited

their ability to organize effectively on a grassroots level and to carry their movement

to the state or national level. And, perhaps most importantly, the San Luis

community found itself struggling against an alien land and legal system. The

Spanish-surnamed land grant settlers adhered to communal, subsistence

environmental practices, while wealthy American land speculators saw the land as a

source of profit.6 In a society organized along the lines of race and class, the San

Luis community found itself at a distinct disadvantage in this conflict. And, until

they were prepared to address the root of the injustices they faced, larger victories

would remain elusive.7

that were spelled out by Charles Beaubien in 1863. See also works by James C. Scott, Domination and the Arts of Resistance: The Hidden Transcripts (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1990) and Weapons of the Weak: Everyday Forms of Peasant Resistance (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1985). 6 See María E. Montoya, Translating Property: The Maxwell Land Grant and the Conflict over Land in the American West, 1840-1900 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2002). Focusing on the Maxwell Land Grant, Montoya examines the clash of the US and Mexican property regimes in the American Southwest. 7 Although the American justice system defined Mexican Americans as white, until the 1930s, they were often denied the privileges associated with whiteness. For discussions of the complexity of the legal status of Mexican Americans, see the following: George A. Martinez, “The Legal Construction of Race: Mexican Americans and Whiteness,” submitted as “Occasional Paper #54 for the Julian Samora Research Institute,” Michigan State University, 2006, 7. Martinez points to the law that said only whites could become US citizens and the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, which made Mexicans

42

The San Luis community’s earliest “infrapolitical” acts of resistance—dating

from the 1860s to the 1960s—are essential in helping us to understand political

history of the San Luis community.8 In particular, these early actions shed light on

the history of the community’s post-1965 movement. More specifically, they help

explain just how the community positioned itself to seize upon the political changes

and opportunities of the late 1960s and 1970s.

Additionally, the fact that the Juan Gonzales incident was being talked about

in the 1970s suggests that activists in the post-1960 era had not only found

themselves heirs to a well-defined culture of resistance, but that they had also arrived

at a point in their political development where they consciously celebrated that

cultural legacy. That Gonzales’ resistance was still entrenched in the historical

memory of post-1960 activists suggests that his refusal to back down in the face of

the Anglo American hegemony was a formative event in the political history of the

community, as well as a celebrated expression of the spirit of resistance that would

come to characterize the people of San Luis. By harkening back to the struggles of

the past, activists reinforced their own political agenda and collective identity as a

people who never backed down from challenge.

American citizens. There is extensive scholarship on whiteness, Mexican Americans, and the law. See Craig Kaplowitz, LULAC: Mexican Americans and National Policy (College Station: Texas A&M University Press, 2006); Haney López, Racism on Trial; Clare Sheridan, "'Another White Race:' Mexican Americans and the Paradox of Whiteness in Jury Selection," Law and History Review Spring 2003; Steven H. Wilson, “Brown over "Other White": Mexican Americans' Legal Arguments and Litigation Strategy in School Desegregation Lawsuits” Law and History Review, Vol. 21, No. 1 (Spring, 2003): 145-194; Article VIII, Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, February 2, 1848, United States-Mexico, 9 Stat. 922. 8 See Robin Kelley, “’We are not what we seem’: Rethinking Black Working-Class Opposition in the Jim Crow South,” 78-79. Kelley uses James C. Scott’s idea of “infrapolitics” to describe the “daily confrontations, evasive actions, and stifled thoughts that often inform organized political movements.”

43

This chapter will trace the history of the San Luis community from the initial

granting of the Sangre de Cristo land grant in the 1840s to an important turning point

in 1965. In his ruling Taylor v. Jaquez, District Court Judge Hatfield Chilson

essentially extinguished the land rights of the San Luis community. In the wake of

this ruling—which many in the community saw as openly racist—San Luis leaders

would move toward a brand of resistance that defined itself in more racialized terms.

They were thus able to tackle issues that their leaders had not been able to address in

the pre-1965 era. In the 1970s, seizing upon that culture of opposition and building

upon their community’s long tradition of social activism, the Land Rights Council

fashioned a successful movement, achieving victory when the Colorado Supreme

Court victory validated their land rights in 2002.

GOVERNOR MANUEL ARMIJO AND THE MEXICAN LAND GRANTS

By the early 1840s, the political landscape of Mexico’s northern frontier was

changing quickly, and New Mexican Governor Manuel Armijo sensed that these

changes would threaten Mexican rule in the region. In an attempt to preserve

Mexican sovereignty, he began distributing large individual and communal land

grants in New Mexico and what would become southern Colorado. In just 10 years,

he distributed 41 grants—over 8 million acres in New Mexico and between five and

six million acres in present-day Colorado.9 In just two years, Armijo awarded 9.7

million acres of land either with his direct approval or with his knowledge. And, he

9 Luther Bean, Land of the Blue Sky People: A Story of the San Luis Valley (Alamosa, CO: Ye Olde Print Shoppe, 1972), 57.

44

gave away about 5.5 million of these acres during a six-week period in November and

December of 1843.10

The historical record is not clear about Armijo’s intentions, though it seems

obvious that his motivations were neither completely altruistic nor patriotic. For

example, in March 1843, Armijo and others, including Charles Bent, were granted ¼

interests in the Beaubien-Miranda grant, by the grantees Charles Beaubien and

Guadalupe Miranda.11 In addition, he and the others claimed 1/6 interests in the

Vigil-St. Vrain Grant.12 Armijo, as grantor of the lands, was obviously violating the

law when he accepted such lands, and Charles Bent—who remained an American

citizen—also violated the law, which stated that only Mexican citizens could own

land.13

While one of Armijo’s obvious intentions in granting these lands—often,

though not always, to foreign-born, naturalized Mexican citizens—was to secure

national borders against the Republic of Texas and the United States, his actions did

not please all Mexicans. Resentment was brewing below the surface, as native-born

Mexican citizens and leaders began losing power and influence in the region. There

10 Stoller, “Preliminary Manuscript,” 4-5. 11 The Beaubien-Miranda Land Grant consisted of 1.7 million acres and was located in northeastern New Mexico and southeastern Colorado. Armijo granted the land to Charles Beaubien and Guadalupe Miranda in 1841. Miranda was a Mexican citizen, by birth, and Beaubien was a naturalized Mexican citizen. The Beaubien-Miranda Grant is also known as the Maxwell Land Grant. 12 In 1843, Governor Armijo granted the four million acre Vigil-St. Vrain Land Grant to Ceran St. Vrain and Cornelio Vigil. It was the largest Mexican land grant in present-day Colorado. It is also known as the Las Animas grant. 13 Luther E. Bean, Land of the Blue Sky People, 59; James Vigil From Indians to Chicanos: The Dynamics of Mexican-American Culture (Prospect Heights, Illinois, 1998), 54-55. Vigil argues that Charles Beaubien and Guadalupe Miranda realized that political changes, or their failure as grantees to develop the land, could result in having to give it up. They realized that the support of Gov. Armijo would be necessary for them to hold onto their land. To garner his support, they made him a partner in the venture, deeding ¼ interest in the land to the governor. From that point on, Armijo became a consistent defender of grantees’ rights.

45

was a general sense that foreigners, particularly the Americans, were taking power

away from Mexicans, and that certain Mexicans were in cahoots with them.14

On December 27, 1843, Armijo accepted a proposal from Missouri-born

naturalized Mexican citizen, Stephen Luis Lee, and Narciso Beaubien, the eldest son

of naturalized Mexican citizen Charles Beaubien, from Canada. Lee and Beaubien

petitioned for a one million acre land grant that straddled the border between present

day New Mexico and Colorado. In a quick turn-around—perhaps sensing his

impending removal from office—Governor Armijo approved the application, and on

December 30, 1843, Lee and the 13-year-old Beaubien became the grantees of a 1

million acre land grant—the Sangre de Cristo land grant.15 Such claims attest to the

importance of such cultural ritual—if only performed in theory—in sealing the land

deal.

In 1845, Lee and Beaubien made good on their promise to settle the grant,

bringing families to settle on the fertile lands of the Culebra and Costilla rivers. The

region’s Indians, however, drove them out.16 Meanwhile, back in Taos, resentment

against foreign encroachment was on the rise.

National events further complicated the situation in New Mexico. On May

11, 1846, President James K. Polk went to Congress, asking or a declaration of war

against the Mexican nation. The U.S. Mexican War ended nearly two years later with

the signing of the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo on February 2, 1848. Conquest came 14 Marianne L. Stoller, “Grants of Desperation, Lands of Speculation” in Spanish and Mexican Land Grants in New Mexico and Colorado, eds. John R. and Christine M. Van Ness 35-37 (Boulder: Center for Land Grant Studies, 1980); Janet Lacompte, “Manuel Armijo and the Americans,” in Spanish and Mexican Land Grants in New Mexico and Colorado, eds. John R. and Christine M. Van Ness, 58-59 (Boulder: Center for Land Grant Studies, 1980); Howard R. Lamar, The Far Southwest, 1946-1912: A Territorial History (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 2000), 43-47, 59-62. 15 Stoller, “Preliminary Manuscript,” 4-5. 16 Stoller, “Preliminary Manuscript,” 5-6.

46

earlier, however, for New Mexico. In August 1846, U.S. General Stephen Watts

Kearney conquered New Mexico, without firing a single shot. He soon established an

American government in Santa Fe.17

By late 1846, native resentment toward the American presence exploded, as a

group of disgruntled Mexicans, planned a general uprising on Christmas Eve. The

plot was discovered, however, and the leaders fled. On January 18, 1847, violence

erupted, as angry Pueblos flocked into Taos. A combination of whiskey and

revolutionary rhetoric filled the streets, causing the mob to grow increasingly restless.

They targeted foreigners, whom they saw as a threat to their autonomy and culture.

The next morning, the mob gathered at the door of the newly appointed American

Governor Charles Bent. As Bent walked out the door to calm the angry mob they

took him by surprise, shooting, scalping, and piercing his body numerous times, while

his family watched.18

The mob continued. Land grantees Narciso Beaubien and Stephen Luis Lee

met a similar fate, as the mob closed in and murdered both. Stephen Luis Lee was

likely a target because, as sheriff, he refused to release two Pueblo Indians from jail

when confronted by the mob. They murdered him and then paraded his scalp through

the streets of Taos. Beaubien was a likely target, since many local Indians viewed his

father, Charles, as another foreign “empire builder.” And, when the revolutionaries

could not find Charles—the probate judge of Taos—who at the time was holding

17 Lamar, The Far Southwest, 55-56. 18 R.L. Duffus, The Santa Fe Trail (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1999), 214-217, Lamar, The Far Southwest, 60-61, 76, 78.

47

court in Tierra Amarilla, they settled for his son. A total of 20 white Americans were

killed in the Revolt.19

As a result of the murders, Charles Beaubien inherited his son’s half share of

the Sangre de Cristo Grant. Stephen Lee was married, but he died without a valid

will, so Beaubien arranged with Joseph (Jose) Pley, who held power of attorney over

Lee’s estate, to purchase Lee’s half. Beaubien paid $100, which was by far the

lowest price per acre in the region.20 Carlos Beaubien, then, became the sole owner

of approximately 1 million acres, on top of the large share he held in the Beaubien-

Miranda grant.

CHARLES BEAUBIEN AND THE BEAUBIEN DOCUMENT OF 1863

Charles Beaubien could not have known at the time just how lawyers, judges,

and civil rights activists of the late 20th century would scrutinize his life, his actions

and his intentions as owner of the Sangre de Cristo grant lands. He would be the

pivotal figure in deciding who would settle the grant and what individual and

communal land rights they would be entitled to. His actions, and his relationship with

the larger San Luis community, would provide the backbone for the legal arguments

that would later be used by 20th century community activists, in their movement to

defend their land rights. Beaubien also personifies the transfer of power that took

place in the region, when Mexico opened her borders to outside trade.

Charles Beaubien entered the world as the fourth child of Paul and Claire-

Charle Duroche Beaubien, in 1800 in St. Jean Baptiste de Nicolet, Quebec, Canada.

19 Duffus, The Santa Fe Trail, 70-75; Karnes, William Gilpin: Western Nationalist, 172. 20 Herbert Brayer, William Blackmore: The Spanish-Mexican Land Grants of New Mexico and Colorado, 1863-1878. (Denver: Bradford-Robinson, 1949).

48

As a boy, he attended the seminary in Nicolet for eight years. In 1820, he became a

monk and went to Quebec for further theological schooling. In 1821, however, he

decided the priesthood was not for him and he left for America. Tantalizing tales of

the American West lured him to St. Louis, where he joined a group of trappers and

headed southwest. He arrived in New Mexico in either 1823 or 1824.21 Historian

and Mexican land grant legal expert Malcolm Ebright argues persuasively that

Charles Beaubien’s Catholic schooling enabled him to enter New Mexican society

and function successfully within it. Beaubien’s knowledge of Latin and the classics

set him apart from other trappers and led him to associate with Guadalupe Miranda,

an educated and influential figure in New Mexico, with whom he would acquire a 1.7

million acre land grant in 1841.22

Beaubien’s religious and educational background led to his friendly terms

with Padre Antonio Martinez—an influential religious and political figure in Taos at

the time. Beaubien seems to have enjoyed peaceful relations with Martinez, who was

known for his vehement criticism of “the American Party”—a group of foreigners

who had become prosperous in Taos and had gained possession of millions of acres

of land grants in the region. Beaubien, however, seemed somewhat immune to this

disdain. Such immunity likely resulted from Beaubien’s respect for Martinez, not to

mention his compliance with Martinez’s seemingly unconventional wishes. For

example, when Beaubien announced that he wanted to marry Maria Pablita Lobato— 21 Malcolm Ebright, “Charles Beaubien and Common Use-rights on the Sangre de Cristo Grant,” Center for Land Studies, submitted as expert witness document, Lobato v. Taylor, document generated 1998, 4. 22 Ebright provides a lengthy discussion of Guadalupe Miranda. Described by some as an intense patriot, Guadalupe Miranda embodied the progressive intellectual attitudes of the time. He was born in El Paso in 1810 and went to school in Cuidad Chihuahua in 1825. He then moved to Santa Fe and opened a private school, where he taught Spanish grammar, Latin, and Philosophy. In 1841, Miranda was appointed Governor Armijo’s private secretary. Miranda likely met Beaubien prior to 1839.

49

a young lady from a prominent Taos family—Martinez insisted Beaubien seek the

permission of the Bishop of Durango. Such an act was unnecessary and was likely an

expression of power, as Martinez could have himself granted permission. Martinez

eventually married the couple and presided over 30 baptisms for which Beaubien

served as either padrino (godfather) or testigo (witness). Martinez often spoke

respectfully of Beaubien, even when he was most critical of his actions, particularly

when Beaubien ordered the execution of those convicted of treason in the Taos

Massacre. Even then, Martinez referred to Beaubien as “don” Beaubien—a term of

respect in the Spanish language.23 Perhaps in sending Beaubien to the Bishop of

Durango, Martinez was testing Beaubien’s regard for local Hispanic Catholic

customs, as well as his respect for Martinez’ authority. Beaubien’s compliance with

such requests seemed to endear him to the often cantankerous and locally powerful

priest.

Once Beaubien settled in New Mexico, he opened a store in Taos, supplying

trappers and traders with goods. As the New Mexican markets were becoming

saturated, the ambitious Beaubien traveled throughout the Southwest seeking more

lucrative markets, such as in Chihuahua. In 1829, he became a naturalized Mexican

citizen. He and Gervacio Nolan (an American) were the first two naturalized citizens

under an 1828 law.24 Armed with Mexican citizenship and the privileges that came

with it, Beaubien would go on to become one of the wealthiest and most politically

powerful Anglos in northern New Mexico. He served as elector in two Taos

23 Ebright, “Charles Beaubien and Common Use-rights,” 4, 6-7; Lamar, The Far Southwest, 35-47. 24 This 1828 law granted citizenship to those who had lived in New Mexico for two years, were Catholic, and were employed and well-behaved.

50

precincts by 1832, and in 1842 was appointed Taos juez de paz (justice of the

peace).25

Beaubien’s respect in the community and his knowledge of local customs put

him in a position of power. Such power gained him a place in the inner circle of

influential people—both American and Mexican—in northern New Mexico. He

moved amongst powerful elites, including Americans Charles Bent, Ceran St. Vrain,

and Gervacio Nolan, as well as Mexican leaders such as Governor Manuel Armijo,

Secretary of Government Guadalupe Miranda, and Taos juez de paz Cornelius Vigil.

These connections proved invaluable when it came to acquiring large land grants.

This group of men would come to control over 3 million acres of land in southern

Colorado.26 With numbers like this, it was no surprise that Padre Martinez voiced

such discontent over the increased influence of non-natives in the region and their

collusion with local Mexican officials.

Once he signed the papers for the Sangre de Cristo grant, Charles Beaubien

wasted little time in attempting to fulfill his duties as grant owner. It became evident

then that Beaubien would not be a passive landlord, as he set about with plans to lure

large-scale ranching, farming, timber, and mining industries by placing enterprising

Mexicans and non-Mexicans on the land, and in doing so, displace existing Native

groups.27

His plans for the Sangre de Cristo grant were different. Though he still sought

to lure industry onto the Sangre de Cristo grant, Beaubien was no longer thinking of

25 Ebright, “Charles Beaubien and Common Use-rights,” 5. 26 Ibid., 7. 27 Ibid., 8. Ebright cites evidence for these plans in a personal correspondence from Guadalupe Miranda to Beaubien on January 8, 1844.

51

large-scale, investment-heavy enterprises. Rather, he desired to create self-sustaining

farming and ranching communities on the Sangre de Cristo grant.28

In 1847, he began his first effort to lure people and economic activity—

mainly sheep ranching—onto the grant. That year, he and Joseph (José) Pley,

Stephen Luis Lee’s associate, launched a major campaign to recruit settlers from

more populated areas of Mexico. They offered potential settlers a deed as

compensation for moving to the potentially dangerous northern frontier. “For each

single man 50 varras [sic] of land on a river, east and west, and to a married man 100

varras [sic], all conditions being alike.”29 In addition, he offered settlers use of

surrounding common lands for their sheep, horses, and cattle. One must assume that

it was difficult for Beaubien and Pley to lure settlers onto the grant lands, given the

hostilities and uneasiness that existed as a result of the Mexican American war, as

well as with the native populations that still inhabited the area.30

A year later, in 1848, this process of settlement on the grant was further

complicated by the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, signed by the Mexican and 28 John L. Gaspar, “Beaubien Land Grant,” Communication to the Historical Society of the State of Colorado, Sept. 8, 1923. MSS 374, Land Grant Collection, Colorado Historical Society. Mr. Gaspar served as agent to Mr. Beaubien, during 1963 and 1964, under a power of attorney granted by the courts. In April of 1923, Mr. Thomas Dawson, the curator of the Colorado Historical Society, wrote to Mr. Gaspar, requesting information about Charles Beaubien, the man, and his role in the Sangre de Cristo land grant. Mr. Gaspar later answered this request with this 8-page, typed report of everything he could recall about Mr. Beaubien and the history of the land grant, as well as the involvement of prominent San Luis residents A.A. and Delfino Salazar 29 John L. Gaspar, “Beaubien Land Grant.” 30 For a thorough discussion of these tensions see the following studies. Lamar, The Far Southwest, 33-47, 51-62; James F. Brooks, Captives and Cousins: Slavery, Kinship, and Community in the Southwest Borderlands, (University of North Carolina Press: Chapel Hill, 2002); Pablo Mitchell, Coyote Nation: Sexuality, Race, and Conquest in Modernizing New Mexico, 1880-1920 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2005); Robert J. Rosenbaum, Mexicano Resistance in the Southwest (Dallas: First Southern Methodist University Press, 1989); Sarah Deutsch, No Separate Refuge: Culture, Class, and Gender on an Anglo-Hispanic Frontier in the American Southwest, 1880-1940 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1987); “The Nineteenth Century: Overview” and “New Mexico Resistance to U.S. Occupation during the Mexican-American War of 1846-1848,” in The Contested Homeland: A Chicano History of New Mexico, eds. Erlinda Gonzales-Berry and David R. Maciel (University of New Mexico Press: Albuquerque, 2000).

52

American governments, ending the U.S.-Mexican War. The introduction of yet a new

legal and political regime intensified the legal and political confusion that already

existed during the Mexican period. The treaty, however, did make some promises,

which settlers likely thought would ease the transition into their new citizenship. For

one, the treaty promised to uphold the land rights of Mexican citizens in the newly

acquired territories.31 Article VIII of the treaty stated that “In the said territories,

property of every kind, now belonging to Mexicans now established there, shall be

inviolably respected. The present owners, the heirs of these, and all Mexicans who

may hereafter acquire said property by contract, shall enjoy with respect to it

guarantees equally ample as if the same belonged to citizens of the United States.”32

The treaty also led to a U.S. Army presence in 1852, with the construction of

Ft. Massachusetts, just 15 miles north of the San Luis town site. Thus, with military

31 Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, February 2, 1848, United States-Mexico, 9 Stat. 922; The Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, created in 1848, formally extended the full protection of the US Constitution and “all the rights of citizens” to those who remained in the territory that was previously Mexican. It further stated that until they were officially admitted to the Union, that they would be protected in the “enjoyment of their liberty, their property, and the civil rights now vested in the according to the Mexican laws.” Historian David Gutierrez addresses many of the ambiguities of the treaty in Walls and Mirrors: Mexican Americans, Mexican Immigrants, and the Politics of Ethnicity (Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1995). The wording of the treaty left a lot of specifics open to interpretation and improvisation in the timing and conditions conferring citizenship on the new “American” inhabitants. Gutierrez further discusses the issue of private property and the Treaty. The US Senate rejected a draft of the treaty, which included a clause to protect the land titles of the inhabitants. Secretary of State James Buchanan clarified this issue of the security of property for the Mexican Foreign Relations Minister by saying, “the present treaty provides amply and specifically in its 8th and 9th articles for the security of property of every kind belonging to Mexicans, whether acquired under Mexican grants or otherwise in the acquired territory” and “the property of foreigners under our Constitution and laws, will be equally secure without any Treaty stipulation.” Conflicting interpretations of this Treaty plague the communities in the American Southwest still, as shown by Rael v. Taylor. The promise of military protection is mentioned in Marianne L. Stoller’s expert witness report for Rael v. Taylor, “The History of the Sangre de Cristo Land Grant and the Claims of the People of the Culebra River Villages on Their Lands.” 32 Article VIII, Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, February 2, 1848, United States-Mexico, 9 Stat. 922.

53

protection against Apache and Ute Indians in the area, settlers arrived in greater

numbers to the area, joining those who braved earlier conditions.33

In 1850, Beaubien began his first colony on the grant lands, along the Costilla

River. This settlement took the shape of just a few “cabins,” inhabited by “all

Mexicans.”34 These areas would remain smaller settlements than San Luis, but the

spiritual and familial ties between these small villages and San Luis were quite

strong. By the 1870s, these small satellite villages had established political ties that

enabled them to unite around political issues. The decade of the 1850s saw rapid

settlement of the grant. Ethnohistorian Marianne Stoller states that “all of the

Hispanic plazas and placitas ever founded on the southern half of the grant were in

existence by 1860, and are still there.”35 Beaubien, who provided data for the 1860

census, reported that there were almost 1800 people on the grant.36

According to a later account by Beaubien’s personal agent, John L. Gaspar,

the first settler on the grant was Juan Andeas Trugillo [Andreas Trujillo?]. Trugillo

arrived with seeds to test the quality of the soil. Once he determined the soil was of

high quality, he returned with his family and selected his 100 varas. Many others

33 Marianne L. Stoller, “Sangre de Cristo Grant: A Speck of Trouble in Prospect,” Paper Presented at the Western Social Science Association Annual Meeting, Albuquerque, NM, 1980, 33; Howard Lamar, The Far Southwest, 85-86; Major John H. Nankivell, “Fort Garland, Colorado,” The Colorado Magazine, Vol. XVI, No. 1 (1939): 12-14; L.R. Hafen, “Status of the San Luis Valley, 1850-1861,” The Colorado Magazine, Vol. III, No. 2 (1926): 49; Morris F. Taylor, “Fort Massachusetts,” The Colorado Magazine, Vol. XLV, No. 2 (1968): 122-127. Taylor has suggested that the presence of Fort Massachusetts provided more psychological security than actual physical protection, due to the small size of the garrison and the inability of the troops to provide regular patrols of the plazas to the south—the San Luis community. 34 Stoller, “Sangre de Cristo Grant: A Speck of Trouble in Prospect,”33. 35 Ibid., 33. 36 Marianne L. Stoller, “The Surveys of the Sangre de Cristo Grant, or, How to Expand the Boundaries,” presented at the Western Social Science Association Land Grant Conference, 1983, Personal Papers of Marianne L. Stoller; “The Sangre de Cristo Land Grant: its history and condition—dissatisfaction and alleged misrepresentation—a speck of trouble in prospect,” Rocky Mountain News (Denver), December 24, 1871.

54

followed and made their homes on the grant—eager to claim their vara strips and

their rights to the mountainous common lands. Gaspar emphasized Beaubien’s

meticulous record-keeping in these land transactions, stating that Beaubien kept

careful notes of names of settlers and their families and the dates of settlement.

Although Beaubien kept written personal records of the transactions, most land

conveyances were oral in nature, until they were legally recorded, at the urging of the

residents of San Luis, in the Costilla County Clerk and Recorder’s deed books

beginning in 1863.37

Along with its promises to recognize the land and civil rights of Mexican

settlers in the conquered region, the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo brought a new set

of land laws and attitudes into the region. In response to these changing attitudes and

laws, Beaubien sought confirmation in 1855 of his ownership of the land from the

region’s new government. If the American government recognized Beaubien as the

legal owner of the grant, that same government would presumably recognize

Beaubien’s agreements with local settlers regarding their customary property rights.

Beaubien filed for confirmation of the Sangre de Cristo grant with William Pelham,

the first US Surveyor General, who was appointed by President Franklin Pierce on

August 1, 1854.

Upon receiving Beaubien’s claim for ownership—which would be known as

Claim number 4—the US Surveyor General of New Mexico, William Pelham,

recommended that the U.S. Congress confirm the grant. In 1860, the Congress of the

United States officially confirmed that Carlos Beaubien owned the Sangre de Cristo

37 John L. Gaspar, “Beaubien Land Grant,” 6-7.

55

land grant and issued him a patent.38 The grant was thus a valid one under American

law.

By including a grant, defined by Mexican law and custom, into American law,

the U.S. Congress unknowingly set up a lengthy debate which would be fought in the

courts for at least 150 years. The debate revolved around issues such as the validity

of Mexican customary land rights; the proper size of a valid land grant; the meaning

of article VIII in the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo; and the inclusion of Mexican

language and custom in the American judicial system. With the confirmation, then,

most parties involved in the grant’s issues assumed that, as long as Beaubien lived, or

as long as his promises of land to the settlers were honored, there would be peaceful

relations in the region. Reality, however, would prove much more complicated.

In 1862, Beaubien began the process of taking care of land matters so that

after he died, his wishes would be honored by future owners of the grant. One of the

first things he did was find an agent to assist him with the increasingly complex legal

matters surrounding the grant. He personally selected Mr. John L. Gaspar, as a result

of both men’s political and civic connections in the region. Beaubien, a French

Canadian, also appreciated Gaspar’s proficiency with French.39 Gaspar would loyally

serve Beaubien, and following Beaubien’s death, would go on to play a pivotal role in

the history of the grant and a prominent role in the San Luis community. He acted as

Beaubien’s personal contact in the San Luis community. After Gaspar accepted the

position of Costilla County Clerk and Recorder, he moved quickly to make contact

with the local people. He met with the residents of the small villages of San Luis,

38 United States Congress, “An Act to Confirm Certain Private Land Claims in the Territory of New Mexico, Chapter 167, 12 Stat. 71 (1860). 39 John L. Gaspar, “Beaubien Land Grant,” 6-7.

56

San Acacio, San Pablo, San Pedro, San Francisco, and Chama. With language

assistance from Mr. Easterday, Alex St. Clair, Luit Hendren and Tom Tobin, all local

businessmen “well versed in Spanish,” Gaspar communicated to the “Mexican”

people of San Luis. Gaspar’s message was that “we should all work together and

establish the best county in Colorado.” He would go on to create a well-organized,

racially-diverse county government, where the officers consisted of “mostly

Mexicans.”40

During the early 1860s, Beaubien and Gaspar paid significant attention to

defining legal issues related to the Sangre de Cristo grant—all within the framework

of the existing American property system. At this time, local settlers were pressuring

Beaubien to put their individual land deeds, or donaciones, in writing. Beaubien

recorded these agreements in the Costilla County Clerk’s office. Gaspar’s signature

appears on these individual records.41

At the same time, locals were pressuring Beaubien to also formalize the oral

agreement that he had made regarding the settlers’ usufructary rights to the

mountainous lands east of the town of San Luis and its satellite communities.

Beaubien responded to the settlers’ concerns and executed a legal document in 1863,

written in the Spanish language and recorded by the county clerk. The document

expressed Beaubien’s wishes for how the community should function. He defined the

parameters of acceptable resource use and interaction with fellow residents. The

following is one segment of the translated document:

40 John L. Gaspar, “Beaubien Land Grant,” 6-7. 41 Various deeds, Costilla County Clerk and Recorder deed books, San Luis. Most of the 1863 deeds are contained in Book 1.

57

...one should have tenderness of conscience and care for the use of the water without causing damage to his neighbors with it, and to nobody; all the inhabitants, will have with convenient arrangement to enjoy the benefits of the pastures, water, wood, lumber, always being careful not to be prejudice with one another…For the benefit and protection of the planted fields, never again will animals be consented, with exception of those that are needed for domestic service, only at the distance of one league from the town, Every person that enters this place with rights of purchase or in another manner, must understand that he must give the same as all, personal assistance, or one representative who should maintain arms sufficient for defense, and to comply with the municipal services, the same as the rest, being this among others, the precise condition of this admission.42

The “Beaubien document,” as it would become known, promised that the settlers of

San Luis and its satellite communities would have communal rights to use the

resources of La Sierra—the mountainous terrain surrounding their individually-

owned donaciones. The mountain's resources would supplement their individual vara

strips and would allow the small ranches and farms to subsist in the harsh, arid

climate of the San Luis Valley. The settlers’ rights to La Sierra included using the

mountain for subsistence grazing, for wood gathering—both for lumber and

firewood—for recreation, and for hunting and fishing. Beaubien also added a clause

which instructed the people to take care of the land and conserve its resources for

future generations.43

42 “The Beaubien Document,” Costilla County Clerk and Recorder’s Office, Deed Book #1, p. 256, San Luis, Colorado. Translated copy found in personal files of Marianne L. Stoller, translation performed by Myra Ellen Jenkins. 43 “The Beaubien Document.” This document is in Spanish, but has been translated into English numerous times. The Beaubien document would be the linchpin in the 2002 decision of the Colorado Supreme Court, in Lobato v. Taylor, concerning the residents’ rights to continue using the resources of La Sierra, which Beaubien had spelled out in 1863. The contents of the document, thus, would help define 21st century Colorado property law, and the place that Mexican law and custom occupy in that law. In addition, the assumptions that Beaubien used to draft the document would also be crucial in the arguments shaped by the community’s attorneys. He knew, then, that the communal rights that he was outlining in 1863 would be necessary for the survival of the community in the harsh climate of the San Luis Valley. This, along with other assumptions, would be crucial to the legal arguments of the community members in the late 20th century litigation. For a discussion of additional rules set by Charles Beaubien for the San Luis settlement, see Francis T. Cheetham. “The Early Settlements of

58

The pressure that the local settlers put on Beaubien to record these agreements

in 1863 served as the San Luis community’s initial step toward political organizing,

as it spoke collectively, urging Beaubien to formalize their agreements. This would

be the first of many political actions that the San Luis community would engage in to

protect and defend its legal land rights.

With his promises recorded in the county legal books, Beaubien died in 1864.

Following his death, William Gilpin, the first territorial governor of Colorado,

purchased all of the parcels of the grant from Beaubien’s heirs for a total of $41,000.

The conveyance, however, had an important condition attached. Gilpin acquired the

land

“on the express condition that certain settlement rights...conceded by Charles Beaubien to residents of the settlements of Costilla, Culebra, and Trinchera [this included the San Luis community]...shall be confirmed by said William Gilpin...as understood and agreed by and between him [Charles Beaubien] and said settlers.”44

As the subsequent history would show, any intention Gilpin had to actually fulfill

such a promise was eclipsed by his desire for profit.

IN DEFENSE OF OUR RIGHTS: EL COMITE DE LA MERCED

William Gilpin first arrived in the San Luis Valley in 1844. He immediately

envisioned large-scale settlements and development on the lands of the Sangre de

Cristo Land Grant. An easterner, Gilpin saw the western landscape in romantic

Southern Colorado,” The Colorado Magazine Vol. V, No. 1 (1928): 6-7. These rules included the need to keep the town clean and to prevent “drunken revels” from occurring “in the presence of the families of the town.” 44 Stoller, “Sangre de Cristo Grant: A Speck of Trouble in Prospect,” 33; “Agreement between Beaubien’s executors and William Gilpin, Deed book 1, pages 241-242, April 7, 1864, Costilla County Clerk and Recorder’s Office, San Luis, Colorado.

59

terms, yet it was a romanticism eclipsed by the forces of Manifest Destiny. He saw

Colorado’s stunning mountain parks in terms of the investment—both domestic and

foreign—that they could attract. He saw them in terms of how they could bring

greatness to the American nation.45 Gilpin dreamed of making the grant a “vast

agricultural, mining, and industrial park.” He would write many pamphlets and

books about the landscape and about his dreams for the landscape—a region he

believed would make the American nation even greater.46

By the late 1860s and early 1870s, Gilpin was reaching out to investors

outside of Colorado, realizing that they were the ones with access to larger sums of

money. He sought to develop the grant with the support of investors from New York,

London, and Amsterdam.47 In July 1869, Gilpin, along with his business partner,

William Blackmore, formed the Colorado Freehold Land and Emigration Company.

They later changed the name to the United States Freehold Land and Emigration

Company, when they presented their investment opportunity to a group of Dutch

investors, who would become heavily invested in the southern portion of the land

grant.48 Their goal was to use the company to sell the southern half of the Sangre de

Cristo grant, called the Costilla Estate—the parcel containing San Luis and its

satellite communities.

45 William Gilpin, “Notes on Colorado: And its Inscription in the Physical Geography of the North American Continent,” Speech given at the British Association of Science,” Liverpool, September 26, 1870, published in London by Witherby and Company, William Gilpin Collection, MSS# 268, Colorado Historical Society, Denver, Colorado. 46 Marianne L. Stoller, and Eric L. Peters, “The Tameling Decision,” unpublished paper presented at the American Society for Ethnohistory Annual Meeting, Colorado Springs, Colorado, 1981, Marianne L. Stoller private collection, 4-5. 47 Stoller, “Sangre de Cristo Land Grant: A Speck of Trouble in Prospect,” 36. 48 “History of Costilla County, Colorado,” Edmond C. van Diest, in Edmond C. van Diest Papers, Ms 0233, Tutt Library, Colorado College. 11-12; Herbert O. Brayer, William Blackmore: The Spanish-Mexican Land Grants of New Mexico and Colorado, 1863-1878. Volume 1, (Denver: Bradford-Robinson Publishers), 76-80.

60

In 1871, Gilpin sold 500,000 acres for a dollar apiece to capitalists from

Amsterdam, Holland. In addition, Gilpin convinced investors in Amsterdam to

provide $60,000 to aid in the construction of General W.J. Palmer’s Denver and Rio

Grande Railway through southern Colorado. Palmer, who had deep connections after

working for years as a superintendent for the Kansas Pacific Railroad, along with

Stephen Elkins, a New Mexico lawyer, and Jerome B. Chaffee, a wealthy Colorado

mine owner and future senator, intended to build a railroad empire in the Southwest.

They envisioned that their railroad would replace the Santa Fe Trail and would

consolidate and control the economy of not only Colorado, but of the entire

Southwest. With the construction of the railroad, he envisioned a booming settlement

in the region. Excited about the prospects for economic growth in Southern

Colorado, Gilpin and Blackmore began planning for large-scale investment on the

Sangre de Cristo grant.49

Gilpin had one issue to deal with before he could proceed with his plans. The

land was already occupied, and he had promised Beaubien to honor the individual

land holdings of the settlers, as well as their legal rights to use the mountainous

communal lands to the west of their individual plots. In his references to these

settlers, whom he sometimes referred to as squatters, he called them the “Mexican-

American race.” Clearly in his estimation they were members of an inferior race of

people. Signs soon emerged that indicated Gilpin was not interested in the rights of

the local residents. On two occasions, Gilpin tried to meet with local citizens to

reconcile his plans for development with the locals’ rights to La Sierra, as well as

49 “History of Costilla County, Colorado,” Edmond C. van Diest, in Edmond C. van Diest Papers, Ms 0233, Tutt Library, Colorado College. 11-12; Herbert O. Brayer, William Blackmore, 76-80; Lamar, The Far Southwest, 126-128.

61

their individual rights to their lowland farms. Both times, Gilpin made sure that the

community’s trusted English-speaking spokesperson was absent. A group of locals

sensed the game that Gilpin was playing, and they realized they needed to join

together and devise a strategy to protect their unique land rights.50

In response to increasing threats to their presence on the grant and to

increasing attempts to deny them their rights as American citizens and settlers on the

grant, San Luis residents formed a citizens committee to protect the rights they knew

they possessed. El Comite de la Merced was founded on July 21, 1871, during a

mass meeting of about 250 community members. They gathered in the small

settlement of Costilla—just a mile or so south of San Luis—to appoint a committee

and to pass “such resolutions as to guide its members in case of a proposed settlement

on the part of Governor Gilpin or the company.”51

The committee consisted of five community members: Faustin Medina, Jose

Maria Barela, Noberto Marqes, Juan de Jesus Bernal, and Ferdinando Meyer. Meyer

served as its president.52 “One of the principle resolutions made and adopted was to

the effect that unless all the five members of the committee were present, and

mutually agreed upon any settlement, the people would not countenance any

proceedings.”53 Once appointed, the committee got right to work and addressed the

most pressing issue of the day—the threats to settlers' existence by big-moneyed,

international corporations, spearheaded by an ambitious politician who had tried to 50 “The Sangre de Cristo Land Grant: its history and condition—dissatisfaction and alleged misrepresentation—a speck of trouble in prospect,” Rocky Mountain News (Denver), December 24, 1871. 51 Ibid; Stoller, “Preliminary Manuscript,” 39-42. 52 Apolinar Rael, San Pablo, CO, to Senator Field, Washington, D.C., May 1974, Personal Papers of Marianne L. Stoller, Colorado Springs, CO, Ferdinando Meyer’s name is sometimes spelled as Ferdinand or Fernando. All spellings refer to the same person. 53 Rocky Mountain News (Denver), December 24, 1871.

62

dupe them before. They notified Governor Gilpin of their appointment as

commissioners of the new committee and requested a time and place to meet with

him. The committee waited a week for his reply. When he finally did answer them,

he informed the men that he had no time to meet. Six weeks after learning that Gilpin

had no time for them, the president of the Comite, Ferdinand Meyer—a German

immigrant who had become a successful merchant in the community and who was

beloved by the predominantly Mexican population—left town on a three-week trip to

Denver. As the only member of the group who was fluent in both English and

Spanish, Meyer served as their public spokesperson.54 Gilpin saw the advantage of

not having Meyer in town and decided to make his appearance during these three

weeks.55

Upon his return home, Meyer learned that “Gov. Gilpin, Mesers. William

Blackmore, and Newell Squarey, claiming to represent [the U.S. Freehold Land and

Emigration Company], found time to invite [his] Mexican colleagues to what they

called a preliminary meeting to settle the pending land question.” The four members

of the committee refused, saying that their committee resolutions required that all five

commissioners be present at such meetings, and without Meyer, they could not act.

But, Gilpin, Blackmore and Newell were not going to accept that. They did not

54 Ibid.; Apolinar Rael to Senator Field, May 1974; “Early Days of the Posthoff-Meyers Stores,” Volume 349, Document No. 21, Civil Works Administration, “Interviews in Colorado Counties, 1933-34,” MF 135, Norlin Library, University of Colorado at Boulder, Boulder, CO; Rene Meyer Gallegos, “Ferd Meyer, Early Trader” The Colorado Magazine, Colorado Historical Society, volume 28, No. 2 (April 1951): 94. Ferdinand Meyer became a partner with Frederick Posthoff, who opened a store first in Costilla, NM. Meyer served as the active manager, and later assumed full ownership of the store. He became a leader in the community, and later served as postmaster at Costilla. In 1864, he served as a delegate from Costilla and Conejos counties for the Colorado Territorial Convention, held to form the Colorado State Government. His son, William F. Meyer would eventually operate the family business. Though Ferdinand Meyer was a respected member of the community, his son would be criticized for his greedy, culturally-insensitive endeavors. 55 Marianne L. Stoller, “Preliminary Manuscript,” 39-42.

63

journey to this remote community for nothing; they had business to conduct and

potential stockholders to please. So, the three of them explained to the locals that it

was only a “preliminary” meeting and it would serve their interests to attend.56

During the meeting, Gilpin, Blackmore, and Newell spoke to the men in

English, a language they did not understand easily—about complex American legal

issues, which made the language doubly complicated and confusing for them. By the

end of the meeting—in the wee hours of the next morning—the men “were finally

coaxed to sign their names to something written, which they were made to believe to

be to their interests.” When Meyer later read what they had signed, he could not

believe it. They signed their names to something that was simply “ruinous to them.”

The agreement ignored “the settlers’ claims to free grazing and woodcutting rights on

the Grant,” which violated Beaubien’s agreement. It also limited their pasture lands

to “public” lands, and because all land except the Vega was privately owned, settlers

were limited to the few hundred acres of the swampy Vega. Finally, it stated that

only occupied lands—lands with either a house or cultivated fields—could be

possessed. This left families with about an acre of land. The speculators took the

signed agreement to New York and England, where the investors were assured that

they represented a “satisfactory adjustment between the company and the settlers.”57

After stewing over the actions of Gilpin and Blackmore, Meyer, as the

chairman of El Comite de la Merced, set forth to do something about the situation.

The Comite had been organized to protect the rights of the San Luis community, and

56 Rocky Mountain News (Denver), December 24, 1871; Apolinar Rael to Senator Field, May 1974; Marianne L. Stoller, “Preliminary Manuscript,” 38-40. 57 Rocky Mountain News (Denver) (Denver), December 24, 1871; Apolinar Rael to Senator Field, May 1974.

64

it was clear that those rights, and the very survival of the community, were under

assault from Gilpin and his business associates. Meyer wrote letters to the Denver

newspapers and requested that the letters be copied to Eastern newspapers, as well as

to newspapers in England. He framed his letters in terms of an exposé of the “true

state of affairs in regard to the claims of the settlers upon what is known as the Sangre

de Cristo land grant, and furthermore, knowing that a vast amount of imposition is

being practiced upon the public generally, by way of misrepresentation on the part of

those, who today claim to hold the controlling interest in the said grant.”58

Eventually, the company relented, and in the end failed to attract the successful

settlement it hoped for. The local community retained their rights to exist on their

lowland vara strips and to use the resources of the communal mountainous lands of

La Sierra.59

An interesting feature of Meyer’s letter is that he never directly referred to the

ethnic composition of the community. He does say that they received their land and

their rights under the Mexican Land Grant system, but he never refers to them as

“Mexican-Americans,” as Gilpin did. He only refers to them as people who had been

wronged by unscrupulous men from Denver and the east. Perhaps he did this, in a

time of anti-Mexican sentiment, in order to emphasize their status as Americans,

entitled to full citizenship rights.

The committee’s actions represent the San Luis community’s earliest steps in

what would be a long history of resisting outside challenges to its land rights. Gilpin

did not relent, however, and by 1874, he was again writing promotional literature that

58 Apolinar Rael to Senator Field, May 1974. 59 My sources do not reveal explicitly what occurred behind the scenes to lead the company to relent. It is only clear that the company gave in to the local people.

65

he believed would attract more investors and settlers to the area. This time, he altered

his approach in regard to the existing settlements and their legal rights to the

resource-rich lands on the grant. Rather than attempting to convince the settlers to

sign away their rights, Gilpin decided he would promote the settlers as a subservient

labor force. When describing—to potential white investors—the inevitable

encounters between whites and “Mexicans,” Gilpin stated that the “Mexican” would

“contribute his primitive skill, inherited for generations without change, in the

manipulations of pastoral and mining industry, and in the tillage of the soil by

artificial irrigation. The American adds to these [the] machinery and the intelligence

of expansive progress...”60 The land, then, would come with its own, ready-to-

employ, source of cheap labor. While such enticements might have seemed attractive

to some investors, the remote location of the land and the lack of existing industry

prevented the kind of interest that Gilpin had hoped for.

The next few years brought hard times for Gilpin and his business partners.

By the 1870s and 1880s, concerns began to surface, on a national level, about the

legality of the large Mexican-era land grants of the Southwest. For many critics of

the system, such large landholdings seemed like too much of a monopoly—certainly

an un-American system of land distribution, which favored the wealthy and the

corrupt. An organized anti-land grant movement surfaced, and the U.S. Congress had

all but ceased their confirmations of such grants. One report went so far as to declare

the Sangre de Cristo Land Grant a “miserable farce.” Most of the critics of the land

grants wanted Congress to take up the issue of the land grants, since it seemed the

60 William Gilpin, The Mission of the North American People: Geographical, Social, and Political (Philadelphia: J.B. Lippincott & Co., 1874), 89-90.

66

courts were “powerless.”61 When the size of the Sangre de Cristo grant was

challenged, Gilpin and his partners decided to defend their company’s claim to the

entire grant. They did so by filing an action in ejectment against a John G.

Tameling—supposedly a settler on the grant—in the Costilla County District Court

on July 7, 1873.62 The case eventually went to the Supreme Court of the United

States, where the central question became: “Was the Sangre de Cristo Grant valid, or

would it be subject to the Mexican Colonization Act of 1824, which said only grants

of 22 square leagues could be awarded?” Clearly the Sangre de Cristo grant exceeded

this measurement by about 5 times, which could have rendered it illegal. In its ruling,

however, the U.S. Supreme Court ruled in favor of the Company, declaring the entire

grant a valid one.63

Not surprisingly, the Court’s decision drew much public interest. In the April

18, 1877 edition of the Weekly Rocky Mountain News, the editors published an article

titled, “An Important Decision of the United States Supreme Court: Something in

which Many of Our Citizens are Deeply Interested.”64 The legal significance of the

61 Brayer, William Blackmore, 119; Stoller and Peters, “The Tameling Decision,” 5.; “The Mexican Land Grants: by One of the Settlers,” The Land for the People: The National Anti-Land Grant Monthly, Chas. W. Russel, editor, J.F. Wilcox Publisher, Chicago, July 1890; “Beaubien Land Grant,” Land Grant Collection, MSS 374, Colorado State Historical Society, Denver, CO. This particular article attacked the Supreme Court’s Tameling Decision, calling the entire Sangre de Cristo Grant a “miserable farce” and calling on the U.S. Congress to address the issue of grant fraud, since the courts seemed powerless to do so. 62 Stoller and Peters, “The Tameling Decision,” 6. As the authors explain, “ejectment is a suit for the recovery of possession of land and for damages. At the time, it was the usual method for trying title to land”; Marianne L. Stoller, “Preliminary Manuscript,” 39-42. 63 Stoller and Peters, “The Tameling Decision,” 7-11. 64 “An Important Decision of the United States Supreme Court: Something in which Many of Our Citizens are Deeply Interested,” Weekly Rocky Mountain News (Denver), April 18, 1877, 5.

67

ruling cannot be overstated, as it has been cited in numerous land grant cases

throughout the 20th century.65

Significantly for this study, however, the decision provides a window into the

questionable tactics used by men like Gilpin and Blackmore in their land speculation

activities. There is ample evidence that the owners of the U.S. Freehold Company

were in collusion with Tameling all along and that the case was a set up to validate

the claims of the Company to the entire southern half of the land grant. Perhaps most

intriguing is that Tameling himself remains a mysterious figure. There is no

historical record of who he was, or even if he existed. He never appeared in court,

and never left a written record of his dealings. One scholar has suggested that

perhaps he was a soldier stationed at Ft. Garland, with no land interest whatsoever,

and that he was employed in Gilpin’s service to partake in this a bogus law suit to

secure the boundaries of Gilpin’s land. Interestingly, neither party in the lawsuit nor

the United States Supreme Court bothered to mention the existence of Mexican

American settlers on the grant lowlands who had legal rights to the mountainous

common lands of the grant.66 This fact would have been difficult to miss and

suggests the promoters’ desire to downplay or ignore the legal and political rights of

the San Luis community. It also points, again, to the ambiguity that existed when the

American and Mexican land and legal systems collided. It is in this space of

ambiguity—and against wealthy businessmen who held little regard for their

65 See Stoller and Peters for a detailed discussion of its role in the Maxwell land grant case, the Tierra Amarilla case, and the Sanchez v. Taylor case. 66 Stoller and Peters, “The Tameling Decision,” 11-14. The authors provide a detailed discussion of the legal issues involved in the claims of both parties, as well as the court ruling; John G. Tameling v. The United States Freehold and Emigration Co., 93 U.S. 644 (1876); Stoller, “Preliminary Manuscript,” 40-42.

68

Mexican-American rights—that the San Luis community would struggle for

recognition of its legal rights as American citizens, shaping an identity and culture of

resistance.

STANDING UP TO CORPORATE CHALLENGES, 1880-WWII

By the late 1870s, Gilpin’s relationship with the residents of the Sangre de

Cristo grant was worsening. During a political campaign, Gilpin had promised the

residents of the Sangre de Cristo grant that he would “complete their titles.” He never

followed through. In fact, he labeled many of the settlers “squatters” and went about

requiring those who could not physically present their titles to him to either leave

their property or buy the land from the Company. In response, one resident went so

far as to record a legal statement in 1877 which stated that, while Gilpin’s company

knew that one-third of the southern half of the grant—the Costilla partition, in which

Gilpin’s company had invested —had been “given to the Mexican settlers,” the

company “refused to recognize such ownership.”67 It is not surprising, then, that

resentment toward Gilpin was running deep by the late 1870s.

To add fuel to an already smoldering fire, by the late 1880s, U.S. Freehold

was stirring up more trouble with the San Luis community. The goal of the company

was to make money by developing land, and the land they were now eyeing lay just

southwest of the town of San Luis—an area known as the mesita lands, because of

their proximity to a prominent mesa. In order to develop these arid lands, however,

the company would need water. Besides land, water had always been the most

contested resource in the area. And in the areas that the company wanted to develop, 67 Stoller, “Preliminary Manuscript,” 40-42; Brayer, William Blackmore, 316-318.

69

the only possible sources of water were the streams that flowed from the Culebra

Mountain Range, east of the small villages of San Pedro and San Pablo.68 In order to

understand the full impact that the company would have on local water sources, it is

necessary to know a little about the San Pedro and Vallejos ditches, which flowed

from the Culebra Range.

Following initial settlement of the San Pablo and San Pedro villages, in the

1850s, the mayordomos of the two villages took immediate legal action to protect

their water rights, by registering the second oldest water rights claim in the state of

Colorado, just behind San Luis, and just ahead of San Acacio.69 Registering their

rights with the government, they believed, would protect them from future challenges

to those rights—challenges that could possibly threaten their very survival. At the

time of registration, the San Pedro ditch, which provided water for the San Pedro

community, measured 19 1/2 cubic feet of water per second. This amount of water

was used to irrigate 780 acres of land. The Vallejos ditch, which provided water for

the San Pablo area, registered at 17 cubic feet of water per second. This was used to

irrigate 640 acres of land. The two ditches sufficed even during the most drought-

stricken years.70 With the introduction of a proposal by the U.S. Freehold Land and

Emigration Company, however, things would change.

The historical record indicates that the local people in San Pedro and San

Pablo went along with the initial proposal set forth by the company “to use all the

extra water that flowed from the streams, and for which the residents had no use.” By

68 Charlie A. Vigil, “History and Folklore of San Pedro and San Pablo, Colorado,” MA thesis, Adams State College, 1956, 46-50; Stoller, “Preliminary Manuscript,” 44-47. 69 Chapter 1 provides a detailed description of the acequia system. 70 Vigil, “History and Folklore,” 46-50; Stoller, “Preliminary Manuscript,” 44-47.

70

1887, the company was claiming, by virtue of the agreement, a total of 90 cubic feet

of water per second, which included water from all the surrounding ditches. As part

of this, the company began to claim nine of the cubic feet from the Vallejos ditch,

which left the village with only eight cubic feet of water from the Vallejos ditch. Led

by the acequia association, the community organized and protested in defense of its

water rights.71

The company persisted. In U.S. Freehold Land and Emigration Co. v.

Gallegos, the company claimed that the local acequia association had appropriated

excessive amounts of water for its rights holders. The land company, using no

credible evidence, argued that one cubic foot of water was sufficient for irrigating 80

acres, suggesting that the community members were using more than they needed.72

The leaders of the acequia association did not relent either. They responded with a

legal motion to dismiss the company’s claims. The court refused to do so, though,

and the case remained open.73

The matter was taken to the District Court of Costilla County, where the judge

decided in favor of the people.74 The company appealed, and in 1900, the case was

brought before the 10th Circuit Court of the United States. The hearings were held in

Denver, which undoubtedly benefited the company, since the San Luis residents

71 Vigil, “History and Folklore,” 46-50; Joseph C. Gallegos, interview; Stoller, “Preliminary Manuscript,” 44-47; While the historical record is limited regarding the grassroots organization that resisted the claims by the company, oral histories conducted in the 1950s indicate that there was grassroots resistance, suggesting that local leaders held meetings and devised strategy. For a detailed discussion of the legal issues surrounding the conflicts between the San Luis community and Gilpin’s U.S. Freehold Land and Emigration Company, see Peña and Hicks, “Community Acequias.” Peña and Hicks examine how this water conflict fits in with the larger issue of water law in Colorado’s legal history. 72 Vigil, “History and Folklore,” 46-50; Stoller, “Preliminary Manuscript,” 44-47. 73 Peña and Hicks, “Community Acequias,” 432-433. 74 Vigil, “History and Folklore,” 46-50; Stoller, “Preliminary Manuscript,” 44-47.

71

involved would have a difficult time traveling that far. In the end, the court ruled

that the company “could divert the ceded amounts only after the twenty-three senior

acequias involved in the settlement had satisfied their calls on the Culebra and its

tributaries.”75 More specifically, the ruling gave the Company nine cubic feet of

water per second from the San Pedro Ditch and 8 1/2 cubic feet of water per second

from the Vallejos ditch. This ruling cut the supply of water for the local community

almost in half for San Pedro and exactly in half for the Vallejos. Less water would

have to serve more land, as the amount of agricultural land in need of irrigation in

each village increased. For the San Pedro ditch, acreage increased to 850 acres, and

for the Vallejos ditch, acreage increased to 680 acres. These conditions challenged

the survival of the community, especially during dry years.76 While this was a legal

victory for the company, years of drought followed which created conditions that

often left the company with no water at all, as the local residents had priority. Such

conditions contributed to the company’s financial problems and to the locals’ anger at

the company. In response to what they considered water theft, local residents refused

to allow the company to use any more water.77

From 1894 to 1902, the U.S. Freehold Land and Emigration Company was

bankrupt. It limped along only with the aid of Dutch bankers, until 1902, when its

leaders sold the entire 81,437 acres to a group of developers under the name Costilla

Estates Development Company (CEDC).78 The new developers included Colorado

75 Peña and Hicks, “Community Acequias, 431-433. 76 Vigil, “History and Folklore,” 46-50; Stoller, “Preliminary Manuscript,” 44-47. 77 Peña and Hicks, “Community Acequias,” 437; Joseph C. Gallegos, interview; Vigil, “History and Folklore,” 46-50; Stoller, “Preliminary Manuscript,” 44-47. 78 Brayer, William Blackmore, 122-23; Stoller, “Preliminary Manuscript,” 43-44; Carl Ubbelode, Maxine Benson, Duane A. Smith, A Colorado History (Boulder, CO: Pruett Publishing, 2006, 9th Edition), 258.

72

Springs businessmen and prominent Colorado politicians.79 Their goals and approach

would be much more practical than those of Gilpin and his business partners.

Investors initially organized the company to sell lands within the Sangre de Cristo

land grant, as part of an overall railroad/development project, known as the San Luis

Southern Railway.80 They soon realized, however, that the arid climate required that

they address the issue of water.

Like their predecessors, the company’s leaders recognized the need to divert

water into the areas they intended to sell.81 The Costilla Estates Development

Company (CEDC) set out to acquire water rights for a planned reservoir in 1910, and

by doing so, provoked the indignation of the local settlers of the San Luis community.

The result was again a conflict between the Hispano residents of the grant and an

outside, Anglo-run land company. In response to these new threats, local residents

formed yet another grassroots organization to face the challenges of the Costilla

Estates Development Company. In doing so, they reinforced their collective

identity—an identity based on their communal environmental ethic and their unique

legal relationship to the federal government—as full American citizens with a history

and culture based in Mexican law and custom.

Angry over company proposals to alter their water rights, locals protested the

fact that “the spring run-offs [were] all taken and stored by the land company in the

Sanchez Reservoir…,” leaving them with insufficient water. Despite their protests,

the Sanchez Reservoir was constructed by the San Luis Water and Power Company in

79 Brayer, William Blackmore, 122-23. 80 Edmund Cornelius van Diest, “History of Costilla County, Colorado,” Edmund C. van Diest Papers, MS 0233, Tutt Library, Special Collections and Archives, The Colorado College. 81 Stoller, “Preliminary Manuscript,” 40-42; Vigil, “History and Folklore,” 46-50.

73

1910.82 While the locals did not win the fight against the loss of water rights

associated with the Reservoir, they came away with even more bitterness toward

outside interests.

In fact, years of conflict between locals and outside Anglo companies—the

U.S. Freehold Land and Emigration Co. and the later Costilla Estates Development

Company—created a strong resentment against anyone who came in and challenged

the rights of the locals to use and manage natural resources. This emerging culture of

opposition was becoming a cornerstone of the community. San Luis leaders

exhibited a willingness to organize themselves against such outside challenges that

threatened either their land or water rights. Although they did not achieve ultimate

victory in these early resistance efforts, the grassroots mobilization that occurred in

the face of each challenge strengthened the community for future challenges and

reinforced an emerging tradition of social mobilization. The community’s activism

against the U.S. Freehold Land and Emigration Company and the CEDC would be

etched into its historical memory and would contribute to its self image as a

community that refused to back down in the face of outside challenge.

The San Luis community was thriving economically at the end of the 19th

century, prior to the purchase of the grant lands by the CEDC, and despite the U.S.

Freehold’s challenges to the San Luis community’s water and land rights. Its

population had increased from 3,491 in 1890 to 4,632 in 1900. In addition, the

number of livestock increased as well, going from 9,407 in 1890 to 16,054 in 1900.

82 Stoller, “Preliminary Manuscript,” 40-42.

74

The number of sheep and lambs was increasing as well.83 This trend would not

continue, as the community began to feel the effects of CEDC ownership of the

land—more specifically the company’s increasingly aggressive efforts to usurp local

land and water rights. As a result of these efforts, some families left the community

after 1910, as it became difficult to operate farms and ranches with less water and less

grazing area. Anthropologist Marianne Stoller attributes the steady decline in

population to three factors: the reduction of the Vega common lands, the loss of a

significant portion of the community’s water rights and the disproportionate effects of

the 1918 influenza epidemic on the San Luis community.84 Indeed San Luis was one

of the hardest hit communities in Colorado.85

While some people left, others stayed behind and fought to hold on to their

unique land and water rights, reinforcing a tradition of social activism in the

community. In 1916 residents organized again when company officials tried to

finagle water rights and acquire additional lands from locals, upon the completion of

Sanchez Reservoir in 1910. Through such efforts, the Company gained

approximately 1000 acres of land, most of which was part of the original Vega. The

CEDC gained much of its additional land through a series of ejectment suits against

the settlers. Such suits, filed between 1903 and 1926 intimidated some settlers, who

83 Stoller, “Preliminary Manuscript,” 80-81. See also Stoller’s footnote 57, which explains the increase in the number of sheep and lambs, clearing up a misprint in the census data for that statistic. 84 Stoller, “Preliminary Manuscript,” 73-75. Stoller explains that three factors likely contributed to the population loss: the loss of part of their water rights—due to the construction of Sanchez Reservoir, the usurpation of part of the community’s vega lands, and the 1918 flu epidemic, which disproportionately affected the community. 85 “Spanish Flu Epidemic,” San Luis Valley News, November 23, 1918. Article found in Edmond C. van Diest Papers, box 50, folder 326, MS 0233, Tutt Library, Colorado College, Colorado Springs, CO

75

sold their land and water and gave up their rights to use the mountain lands.86 By

1916, practices such as these had created an insurmountable rift between the CEDC

and local settlers, creating an environment ripe for open conflict.

When the officials for the Costilla Estates Development Company decided, in

1916, that the locals’ use of the mountain was becoming detrimental to their plans for

the land, company leaders sought to regulate the San Luis community’s use of the

land. Company officials put up signs and issued notices that informed residents that

they must obtain permits from the company before they set foot on La Sierra and that

they must pay for the wood they collect. If ranch officials found anyone hauling

wood from La Sierra without permission, the offenders would be prosecuted. The

company also announced its plans to fence the mountain tract, in order to keep people

off the property. These restrictions, on the heels of the loss of Vega lands and water

rights, incited anger from the locals. San Luis residents saw this as a direct violation

of their land rights. Community leaders J.C. Lobato, Manuel Antonio Manzanares,

and Juan Maestas, along with other residents, tore the signs down and confronted

company officials individually and collectively, informing them that they refused to

pay for what was theirs. 87

When the company refused to relent, community leaders formed an

organization dedicated to reclaiming their rights. Leaders proceeded to take justice

into their own hands. The day they learned of the company’s plans to fence the 86 Stoller, “Preliminary Manuscript,” 67-71. According to Stoller, the Vega common land originally measured up to 3000 acres, but by the mid-20th century, it contained only 633 acres. 87 “Land Trouble,” Letter to the editor from Richard Cohn, Alamosa Courier, Feb. 25, 1976.; “Defendant’s Brief Opposing Summary Judgment,” in J.T. Taylor, Jr. vs. Pablita Jaquez, et.al. Civil Action No. 6904, United States District Court for the District of Colorado; Robert Kino Green, interview by author, San Luis, CO, 18 December 2002, tape recording, personal files of author; Marianne L. Stoller, interview by author, Colorado Springs, Colorado, July 2004, handwritten notes, personal files of author; Shirley Romero-Otero, interview.

76

mountain, 20 or so men from the community defied the company’s new policy and

journeyed to the mountain for wood. Each of them carried rifles.88

Later that day, community leaders called their fellow residents together for a

meeting in Chama. Many attended, most armed with rifles. Community activists had

invited E.P. Valentine, who served as the local ranch manager for the Costilla Estates

Development Company, to attend the citizens’ meeting. Valentine accepted. The

topic of discussion was the company’s attempted violation of the community’s rights

to use La Sierra—rights that they all knew were theirs by virtue of Mexican law and

the 1848 Treaty. Some heated conversation ensued, and evidently, in the course of

that conversation, the locals coaxed Valentine into seeing things their way. By the

end of the night, Mr. Valentine had contributed to the fund that was set up to pay

court expenses, in the event that the matter went to court. After this meeting, signs

came down and the company ceased its harassment of the local people.89

This incident revealed something important about the nature of political and

social mobilization in San Luis. That issue involves the role that women played. One

local woman, Bernina Romero, helped lead the initial resistance against the powerful

land company. She was one of the first to grab a rifle and resist the company’s

encroachment on her rights. Bernina Romero would remain in the historical memory

of female activists throughout the 20th century.90 As chapters 4 and 5 will reveal, the

88 “Land Trouble,” Letter to the editor from Richard Cohn, Alamosa Courier, Feb. 25, 1976.; “Defendant’s Brief Opposing Summary Judgment,” in J.T. Taylor, Jr. vs. Pablita Jaquez, et.al. Civil Action No. 6904, United States District Court for the District of Colorado; Robert Kino Green, interview; Marianne L. Stoller, interview; Shirley Romero-Otero, interview. 89 “Land Trouble,” Letter to the editor from Richard Cohn, Alamosa Courier, Feb. 25, 1976; Robert Kino Green, interview; Marianne L. Stoller, interview by author, Colorado Springs, Colorado, 15 July 2004, handwritten notes, personal files of author; Shirley Romero-Otero, interview. 90 Shirley Romero-Otero, interview.

77

role of women was vital to the success of the San Luis land rights movement—both

in the public and private spheres.

THE RISE OF LA ASOCIACÍON DE LOS CIVICOS DERECHOS

Although temporarily defeated, the Costilla Estates Development Company

had not completely given up its fight to limit the community’s rights and claim for

itself sole stewardship of the Mountain tract. Relations between the community and

the company would be relatively smooth until after World War II, when the company

once again challenged the land rights of the San Luis community.

During the prewar period, however, internal relations became complicated, as

community members began to resent the actions of one of their own. Although the

San Luis community had always had an internal class structure—with the merchants

at the top—the issue of inequity appears to have become more divisive by the 1930s

and 1940s. Delfino Salazar, a wealthy member of the community who owned a large

tract of mountain land—which was part of the Beaubien agreement—began to restrict

access to that land after years of allowing locals unlimited access to it. At one point,

Salazar denied access to two locals who used a section of the Culebra River to fish on

a regular basis. In the late 1930s, the two citizens filed a suit against Salazar, in the

Costilla County Court, claiming that he was violating their rights as citizens and as

beneficiaries of the promises Beaubien recorded in 1863. The two locals won and

were granted permission to fish on Salazar land.91

91 Marianne L. Stoller, interview. Stoller’s father was one of the plaintiffs in the suit.

78

This incident involving two San Luis citizens suing a fellow citizen raises the

issue of internal class conflict among the Mexican American population in the

community. While Salazar was respected by some, he was not well liked. Many

believed he was trying to distance himself from the community by allying himself

with powerful Anglo political and economic interests.92 This resentment points to the

possibility of an emerging class consciousness. The majority of residents in San Luis

were beginning to see themselves as members of a lower economic class. They

would employ this class consciousness in more vocal and visible ways by the 1960s,

when they began to articulate a more race- and class-conscious identity.

In late 1948, a group of concerned leaders in the San Luis community—a

group of sheepherders from Chama—formed an organization to revisit the issue of

their community’s land rights. They knew that the leaders of Costilla Estates

Development Company had been unhappy with locals for exercising their use rights

upon La Sierra. The company had been hurling accusations of abuse toward

individuals who had used the land. These accusations eventually turned into outright

intimidation. Again, the company tried to curb local use of the mountain by posting

signs on Whiskey Pass (one of the roads leading up to the wood gathering areas of the

mountain) telling people that they had to acquire special permits in order to gather

wood. Aware of these actions and of their people’s long history of political resistance

in defense of their land rights, the Chama leaders desired to clarify their rights. They

of course knew their rights but they decided to enlist the aid of an attorney in

92 Marianne L. Stoller, interview; Robert Kino Green, interview; “Salazar and Gallegos,” pamphlet published by Morey Mercantile Company, 1957, Colorado Collections, Adams State College library, Alamosa, Colorado. This booklet was originally a poster (51 x 36 cm) which was cut apart to make this booklet. It was published in 1957 in San Luis, Colorado during the 1957 celebration of the centennial of the Salazar and Gallegos market.

79

Alamosa to assist them in clarifying the legal meanings of those rights within the

context of American law, and perhaps to advise them on how to proceed against the

accusations and actions of the Costilla Estates Development Company.93

They wrote a letter to attorney Raphael Moses of Alamosa, inviting him to

attend a community meeting in Chama. Locals could then ask questions and obtain

legal clarification of their rights. They selected Moses because of previous dealings,

a decade earlier, with his uncle, also an attorney in Alamosa. In their letter, the group

described the intimidation tactics employed by the company.94

After mailing their letter, the elected leaders traveled to Alamosa to visit

Moses and ask if he would come down and answer a few questions regarding local

land rights. He agreed. Moses attended a community meeting at the Chama

schoolhouse “to discuss the rights of the owners of Vega lands concerning the Rito

Seco tract.”95 He interpreted the people’s land rights, referring to the copy of the

Beaubien document he had brought to the meeting. Moses explained to these citizens

that the mountain was for their individual domestic use only, and, according to his

reading of the historic documents, they could not graze large commercial numbers of

animals or operate commercial timber operations on the lands.96 The community

could, however, continue its subsistence activities on the mountain. Moses explained

93 Marianne L. Stoller, interview; Robert Kino Green, interview; Tom Faxon, “An Oral History: Raphael J. Moses,” The Colorado Lawyer Vol. 27, No. 3 (March 1998):15; Deposition of Raphael J. Moses, Civil Action No. 81CV5 Rael v. Taylor, Costilla County District Court, State of Colorado November 17, 1982. 94 Deposition of Raphael J. Moses, Rael v. Taylor, Civil Action No. 81CV5, Costilla County District Court, State of Colorado, November 17, 1982. 95 Ibid. 96 Ibid.

80

that the people possessed the right to use the wooded portions of the grant, to graze

and to collect lumber, as long as they did not destroy the property.97

The 1950s brought a series of significant changes to the San Luis community.

The most glaring was population decline. In 1950, Costilla County had 6,067

residents, and in 1960, it had only 4,219 residents. Such a decline was likely part of

the national post-WWII migration from rural to urban areas.98

In 1959, the San Luis community again faced an outside challenge to its land

rights and to the heart of its culture. That year North Carolina lumberman Jack P.

Taylor began negotiations with the Costilla Estates Development Company to

purchase the 77,500 acre mountain tract. He intended to log it for profit and thus saw

the land rights of the local people as a hindrance. Before negotiations were final,

community leaders had convened to address the issue of their rights under a new

owner. La Asociacíon de los Derechos Civicos [The Association for Civil Rights]

formed in 1959, to protect the rights of the community against any outside threat.

Founders decided that La Asociacíon should consist of a president, vice president,

secretary and treasurer. Members paid regular dues, and this money was used for

consulting with lawyers, as well as for miscellaneous operating expenses.99

Once Taylor had officially purchased the land, he proceeded to install fences

along the perimeter of the Mountain Tract. When locals tore down the fences in

protest, Taylor rebuilt them. He also used intimidation tactics, such as armed guards, 97 Ibid. 98 Stoller, “Preliminary Manuscript,” 73-75; Despite this out-migration, San Luis residents still retained an emotional attachment to their hometown. This attachment to land surfaced time and again in my oral history interviews, as well as in my interactions and casual conversations with local people who left for urban areas.; See also “Water pours new into dying town,” The Denver Post, February 27, 1966. 99 Meeting Minutes, La Asociacion de los Derechos Civicos, July 17, 1962, Personal Papers of Marianne L. Stoller, Colorado Springs, Colorado.

81

to prevent locals from entering La Sierra. As these incidents escalated, so did the

locals’ movement to reassert their land rights.100 In addition to tearing down fences,

locals burned bridges and corrals that Taylor had built on La Sierra. These acts were

carried out in an orderly, covert way and were the work of highly organized groups of

radical activists, most likely the sheepmen who were most affected by Taylor’s

actions.101 It is not known if the Asociacíon was behind any of these extralegal

activities. Officially, the organization remained dedicated to pursuing justice through

legal channels; however, there were supporters of the Asociacíon who engaged in

such “covert” actions.102

On January 8, 1961, a “special” meeting of La Asociacíon was called to order

by its president, Carlos Medina. According to the minutes of this meeting, its

purpose was to “protest the summons which was cited by J. T. Taylor, Jr. to all

people.” This was a serious matter, which was reflected in the minutes. Medina

began the meeting with a plea. He asked “each and every one” to do whatever they

could in response to the matter concerning Taylor. He encouraged people to act

through the Association, stating that it was “far better to answer through our

Association,” as a unified group, but he also stated that ultimately such matters were

up to the individual. Medina was essentially saying that unity is best in a matter such

100 The violent incidents between Taylor and community members during his first year or so on the property are well documented. For examples, see “Keyed up in Range War: San Luis Suspicious of Outsiders,” The Denver Post, December 1, 1961; San Luis Land Rights Council, La Merced Sangre de Cristo: El Valle de San Luis, 1980, [The Sangre de Cristo Land Grant: San Luis Valley, 1980] (Chama, Colorado: Land Rights Council publications, 1980); Eugene Martinez, interrogatory interview, transcript on file with Civil Action No. 81CV5 Espinoza v. Taylor, Costilla County District Court, State of Colorado; Eugene Lobato Sr., interview by author, Chama, CO, 18 December 2001, tape recording, personal files of author. See also author’s interviews with Glenda Maes, Charlie Jaquez, Eugene Martinez, Eugene Lobato, Shirley Romero-Otero, Agatha Medina. 101 Eugene Martinez, interview. 102 Eugene Martinez, interview.

82

as this one. The community should respond as a united group in protection of its

rights.103 The dedication of the Asociacíon to protesting the summons by Taylor

shows that the group was going to take on his threat in a swift and direct manner. Its

emphasis on unity suggests that the San Luis community had arrived at a level of

organization and cohesion which had eluded it in earlier resistance efforts.

La Asociacíon President Carlos Medina also informed the group that an on-

duty policeman, Clodoveo Sanchez, was present, so as to ensure “good order.” He

announced that “anybody [could] take the floor with our right permission.” While

these announcements indicated the sensitive and potentially explosive nature of the

topic at hand and the need to remain on task, they also suggested that anyone could

contribute to the discussion. Input from the entire community would be necessary to

fight this latest threat. Medina then introduced the rules that would govern

membership of the organization. Membership could be paid in two ways. Members

could make a payment, or “premium” of $10.00, or they could pay $65.00, which was

the full cost. The money, he argued, was needed to “keep this matter on.” The

secretary noted that the local people “got very interested” and that Mr. Medina closed

the meeting by advising the attendees that “we must protest…J.T. Taylor by all

means and regardless of cost and etc.”104

Indeed the emergence of La Asociacíon de los Derechos Civicos was

significant in the political history of the community. Members’ unanimous support to

resist Taylor “by all means and regardless of cost” illustrates the increasingly radical

nature of the activists’ desire to defend their land rights and by extension their rights

103 Meeting Minutes, La Asociacíon de los Derechos Civicos, 1961, Personal Papers of Marianne L. Stoller, Colorado Springs, Colorado. 104 Ibid.

83

as American citizens. Yet, its formation is not surprising, when examined in its

historical context. By 1959 the community had nearly a century of experience in

defending its rights.

On an individual level, La Asociacíon provided the political space in which

two San Luis residents, in particular, would distinguish themselves as visible,

passionate leaders in the community. In the political space of la Asociacíon, Apolinar

Rael and Juan LaComb would emerge as folk heroes in the struggle for La Sierra, and

would be two of the most visible elders until their deaths in the late 1980s and 1992,

respectively. They provided the heart and soul of the community’s post-1960

movement to protect its rights to La Sierra. These two men embodied the

community’s dedication to preserving not only their rights to the use the resources of

La Sierra, but also to preserve the mountain itself from careless practices. While

Carlos Medina never specified exactly what he meant when he said that the

Asociacíon members would protect themselves “by all means and regardless of cost,”

Apolinar Rael made it a point to say that if legal means failed, he would be the first to

grab his rifle. And, if he was too old to walk, he would crawl with it in hand.105

Tensions continued to rise throughout the early 1960s, as Taylor and the

residents of San Luis geared up for a literal range war. In addition to numerous

stories of run-ins with Taylor and his hired hands, there were more significant events

that caught the attention of the entire community, and even the entire nation, during

this particularly violent era. Newspapers—local and regional—in the 1960s told tales

of the San Luis range wars, comparing the situation to the “untamed” Wild West.

The “pistol whipping” of 1961 was one such event. It became part of the local lore— 105 Charlie Jaquez, interview.

84

seared into the historical memory of the community. The event signifies the

willingness of San Luis residents to protect their rights to La Sierra, even in the face

of physical danger.

On Thanksgiving morning in 1961, Taylor and two of his ranch hands, Alfred

Randolph and Perbis Raley, encountered three young who were “trespassing” on La

Sierra. In the events that followed, San Luis residents responded with mob violence,

when it became clear that Taylor had attacked three of their own.106

This incident shows the intensity of the conflict on the grassroots level and the

willingness of the San Luis community to resort to extralegal means in order to

protect their own. The three young men would become local heroes, symbols of

resistance against Taylor and his challenge to the people’s legal rights to use La

Sierra.107 The incident also served to fuel resistance at the more organized level, as

the community threw its support toward the cause of the Asociacíon.

The violent confrontations continued, leading Jack Taylor to seek a legal

solution. In 1961, following the “pistol whipping” incident, he filed Taylor v. Jaquez

in the United States District Court, arguing that the locals’ rights to use the mountain

were not valid legal rights. His attorneys selected an archaic property law—the

Torrens Title Registration Act—as the means by which they would proceed in court.

By filing a Torrens title claim, Taylor was registering his title to extinguish any

claims to his property. In response to this move, one of the first steps the Asociacíon

106 “Keyed Up in Range War: San Luis Suspicious of Outsiders,” The Denver Post, December 1, 1961; Charlie Jaquez, interview; Glenda Maes, interview; Robert Kino Green, interview; Agatha Medina, interview; San Luis Enveloped by Uneasy Armistice,” The Denver Post, December 3, 1961; “Rancher charges DA fails to prosecute law violations,” November 29, 1961; “Beaten Trio’s Guns Tested,” The Denver Post, November 30, 1961; “Steve Hears Taylor Tell Story of Feud,” The Denver Post, November 30, 1961. 107 Agatha Medina, interview; Glenda Maes, interview.

85

leaders took to protect their land rights was to hire an attorney from Taos, who would

present a defense of their rights in court. Eliu Romero—a young, relatively

inexperienced, and often tardy attorney—would prove to be an incompetent ally, who

seemed to have little emotional stake in the case. In the end, he bungled the case, and

la Asociacíon fired him.108 La Asociacíon felt confident in its claims and refused to

allow an incompetent lawyer to hinder their chances for success in the legal system—

when nothing less than their livelihood was at stake.

Eventually, the Asociacíon turned to Denver attorney, Eugene Tepley, to

present their case. Tepley accepted and worked alone on the case, digging through

boxes and years of history, trying to understand all the issues. Because he started

late, following Romero’s stint as attorney for the people, he was under serious time

constraints; yet, he continued to work furiously until the end, in order to bring about

justice for his clients. Tepley argued that his clients possessed the legal right to use

the mountain tract and that those rights were legally granted in three places: from the

original Mexican Land Grant of 1843, which the 1848 Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo

would uphold; from the 1863 Beaubien Document; and from the doctrine of

prescription. The doctrine of prescription says that if a party has used a particular

108 David Martinez, interview by author, Denver, CO, 5 January 2007, tape recording, personal files of author; Jeff Goldstein, interview by author, Denver, CO, 11 December 2007, tape recording, personal files of author; Shirley Romero-Otero, interview; “Deposition of Raphael Moses” in Rael v. Taylor. For a discussion of the Torrens Title Registration process, see the section in chapter III titled “The Torrens System,” in New Mexico State Planning Office, Land Title Study by David W. King and White, Koch, Kelley, and McCarthy, attorneys at law, Santa Fe, 1971, 115-142; See also Rael v. Taylor, 876 P.2d 1210 (Colo. 1994). See also Colorado's Torrens Title Registration Act, now codified at Colo. Rev. Stat. §§ 38-36-101 through 38-36-198 (1982 & 1993 Supp.).

86

piece of property for seventeen years, without interruption, that party can legally

claim rights to that land.109

Tepley’s biggest logistical challenge was piecing together an argument from

records that were in disarray. In one letter, in particular, to Judge Paul Larrazolo in

Albuquerque, New Mexico, Tepley asked for assistance in locating information about

a case in which Larrazolo’s father had served as the attorney for the plaintiffs against

officials from the Costilla Estates Development Company, in 1905. Tepley sought

such cases in order to formulate arguments in support of the rights of la Asociacíon

de los civicos derechos, since they offered windows into the complicated legal history

of the land grant. Larrazolo’s father had represented a group of citizens who had

organized to protect their land rights interests, under the name of the Defense

Association of the settlers of the Rio de la Costilla. The case, Defense Association of

the settlers of the Rio de la Costilla, Fernando Meyers, et.al. vs. Thomas Keely,

et.al., along with about 2000 other files involving various corporate interests in the

region, were either missing or presumably destroyed. Tepley was thus hoping that

the junior Larrazolo would have insight into the work of his father.110

The letter offers another insight into Tepley’s work. The tone of the lengthy

letter is somewhat frantic, with Tepley closing with an apology to Larrazolo.

“Please forgive this introduction to me—I don’t do things this way when they commence with me: but I am drawn into this matter in what may be the 9th inning, us at bat with two out, two strikes called, and Casey ain’t at the bat. Somehow I have to get more time to dig dig dig for the evidence to support the proposition that there has been if not a deed, a dedication by Beaubien, to the

109 Ryan Golten, “Lobato v. Taylor: How the Villages of the Rio Culebra, the Colorado Supreme Court, and the Restatement of Servitudes Bailed out the Treaty of Guadalupe-Hidalgo.” Natural Resources Journal 45 (Spring 2005): 468. 110 Eugene Tepley, esq., Denver, CO, to Honorable Paul Lazzarolo, New Mexico, 12 April 1964, “Tepley Work Files,” Personal Papers of Marianne L. Stoller.

87

inhabitants of the perpetual right to graze, water, and take wood from the Mountain Tract.”111

In the end, despite Tepley’s tireless efforts in presenting the case, the federal

court rejected the arguments of la Asociacíon, in 1965.112 In his post-trial comments,

made to a reporter, District Court Judge Hatfield Chilson portrayed his ruling as one

that would help “bring those Mexicans into the 20th century.”113 His words suggest

that racism played a factor in the court proceedings. Tepley had struggled to

introduce a complex legal and historical case into a legal system that simply refused

to validate legal rights that were rooted in Mexican law, perhaps viewing that legal

system as backward and inferior to the American court system. Thus the federal

court, in ruling against the San Luis defendants on all counts, denied the full

citizenship rights of those defendants. Recognizing the implications of this defeat,

Tepley felt heart broken.114 Despite his defeat, Tepley’s dedication to the cause

would win him the respect of the activists for years to come, and he remains a hero in

the minds of many San Luis residents who remember him.

The District Court ruling of 1965 was an important turning point in the history

of the community. It had implications for the San Luis community emotionally and

politically as well as legally. The ruling served as an important reference point for

later activists, who sought to address and overturn the injustices committed by the

ruling. Chilson’s searing words about bringing the Mexicans into the 20th century

would be repeated time and again, as activists worked to counter such second-class

111 Eugene Tepley to Honorable Paul Lazzarolo, April 12, 1964. 112 Interestingly, these arguments would be the arguments that would convince the Colorado Supreme Court to validate the rights of the San Luis residents in 2002. 113 La Merced, 16; Ray Otero, public lecture, Cesar Chavez Day, Red Rocks Community College, Lakewood, CO, 24 March 2006. 114 Shirley Romero-Otero, interview; Faxon, “An Oral History: Raphael J. Moses,” 15-18.

88

treatment. The court defeat left many activists with a feeling of cynicism about the

justice system. In 1974, Apolinar Rael stated that “[t]here is no justice for the

poor.”115

One of the damaging effects of the 1965 ruling was the eventual disintegration

of the of La Asociacíon de los Derechos Civicos. The court ruling took the

momentum out of the grassroots movement. Individuals and families focused on

mere economic survival as they began to face the reality of the ruling and of Taylor’s

intimidation tactics in the community. La Sierra was off limits to them. By 1965, the

economic effects of Taylor’s actions began to affect the local people, and many

decided to relocate to the more populous cities of the Front Range—just to the east of

Colorado’s Rocky Mountains. Cities like Pueblo, Colorado Springs, and Denver saw

large influxes of San Luis residents who could no longer make a living in their

hometown. In a blow to the future of the San Luis culture, many became factory

workers or other manual laborers in these cities, leaving behind their self-sufficient

agrarian lifestyles. In a Denver Post article from August of 2005, one local, whose

family moved out of San Luis following the ruling in 1965 said, “We had to live in a

society we knew nothing of.”116 It looked as though their culture was dying.

Despite the immediate political implications of the decline of the Asociacíon,

the organization would leave two important legacies in the community. The first

stemmed from its role as a steward of the natural environment. In addition to taking

on issues related to the legal challenges that Taylor posed to the San Luis people, the

Asociacíon regulated use of local resources. In doing so, they served as the “official”

115 Apolinar Rael, San Pablo, CO, to Senator Field, Washington, D.C., May 1974, Personal Papers of Marianne L. Stoller, Colorado Springs, Colorado. 116 “Home again, but it’s changed,” The Denver Post, August 8, 2005.

89

stewards of La Sierra. Through a system of management, the members of the

Asociacíon designated grazing lands, especially for the ranchers with larger herds.

Leaders made sure that no permanent damage was done to the local ecology on La

Sierra. “If anyone brought more cows to a certain area than they were supposed to,

they’d tell them, ‘OK, you’ve got 100 cows too many in there. You’ve got to take

them out; take them somewhere else. And leave the rest…you are not allowed that

many.’” “They never went to court.” They also mediated grazing issues between

sheep men and cattle men. Sheep were very hard on the local grasses, and the

Asociacíon would regulate their presence on the land, to protect the cattlemen.117

In line with their conservationist approach to the use of natural resources, the

Asociacíon designed a formal management plan, based on traditional practices and

environmental knowledge, which would be implemented on a community level once

the legal rights—that were lost in the 1965 court ruling—were reinstated by the

courts. The mere existence of this detailed management plan, drawn up in the 1960s,

reveals three significant aspects of the group’s cause: the concern that the Asociacíon

and its members had with protecting their resources and their rights to use them in a

sustainable manner; the desire to preserve these cultural practices for future

generations; and the optimism that they possessed. They truly believed that they were

justified and that one day justice would prevail.118 This management plan would

provide the basis for community management of La Sierra, following the victory

ruling by the Colorado Supreme Court in 2002. It would be a vestige of the wisdom

of the Asociacíon for a new generation of community leaders.

117 Gloria Rael Maestas, interview. 118 Gloria Rael Maestas, interview; “Management Plan for La Sierra,” La Asociacíon de los Derechos Civicos, Personal Papers of Gloria Rael Maestas, San Luis, Colorado.

90

The second legacy of the Asociacíon was political. Its significance in the

political maturation of the San Luis community cannot be overstated. At the time of

its existence, it was the most important grassroots organization in the history of the

community. Under the guidance of the Asociacíon, the San Luis community moved

toward a more sophisticated type of political mobilization. Armed with a legal

understanding of the nature of their rights—as both American citizens and as

beneficiaries of the Mexican land grant system—San Luis activists forged a new kind

of political activism. Building upon the “culture of opposition” that had come to

define their community over the previous century, La Asociacíon activists had by

1961 reached a new level of radicalism in their rhetoric, articulated most clearly

when, during one of their meetings, they agreed to fight Taylor “by any means.”119

CONCLUSION

Yet, the Asociacíon could not rebound from the 1965 court defeat. It, like its

political predecessors, fell short of ultimate victory. While such efforts enjoyed

moments of success, they failed in their ultimate quest to convince the hegemonic

American legal system to validate the land rights of the San Luis community, and by

extension, to recognize the residents of San Luis as full citizens of the United States.

Not until San Luis activists were willing and able to confront issues of racism in the

American legal and political systems would they develop a sustainable social

movement capable of moving them toward that goal of full citizenship.

119 Meeting Minutes, La Asociacíon de los Derechos Civicos, 1961, Personal Papers of Marianne L. Stoller, Colorado Springs, Colorado.

91

In the wake of the 1965 District Court ruling, economic hardship and legal

confusion dominated the small town of San Luis. Formal social and political

mobilization waned, yet a rhetoric of resistance remained alive to inspire the most

dedicated activists. Throughout the late 1960s and early 1970s, activism devolved

upon individuals talking about the need to do something and small groups of angry

locals engaging in spontaneous civil disobedience actions. In the mid-1970s,

however, the San Luis community—tempered by a century of political activism in

defense of its land and water rights—stood poised to make the most of the electric

political changes of the 1970s, when a widespread Chicano consciousness took hold.

92

CHAPTER 3

“CHICANO LAND, NO GRINGOS”: THE RISE OF THE LAND RIGHTS

COUNCIL OF SAN LUIS, 1965-1979

On July 19, 1979, Land Rights Council co-founder, Apolinar Rael, opened the

Chama National Land Conference by welcoming all who had come from seven states

to discuss the “land grant question.” The Land Conference was the first of its kind. It

was sponsored by the newly formed San Luis Land Rights Council, an organization

created solely to regain the lost land rights of the San Luis community. In his

opening remarks, Rael extended a special welcome to the Native American people

who had come to the small ranching community of Chama, Colorado—a satellite

community of San Luis—from reservations in the Southwest and the Black Hills of

South Dakota. In his broken English, the 78-year old exclaimed,

“We are the same people…The Native Americans…are our closest people…We give thanks because God has permitted us to live and love the land. We are all in the same boat in the teaching of our young because the development of our young is the greatest happiness that we have to offer.”1

The remainder of the conference would be filled with informational

workshops on traditional Chicano uses of the land and its resources, storytelling,

inspirational speakers, and Native American traditional ceremonies. A palpable

solidarity dominated the atmosphere of the conference, as leaders from both the

Chicano and Indian communities expressed their people’s shared history of broken

treaties and oppression at the hands of the white man. They also expressed a shared

ideology, based on careful use of and reverence for the land—that of holding “Mother

1 “Chama Conferencia Draws Many Participants,” Tierra y Libertad, July 1979.

93

Earth so sacred.” Perhaps most compelling was the Chicano activists’ formal

expressions of regret for their own people’s history of conquest over the native tribes

of the Americas. They conducted a formal ceremony in which the Chicano leaders

apologized for the actions of their Spanish ancestors, thus smoothing the historic

waters between the two groups and acknowledging the complex history of relations

between them. That reconciliation was necessary if both groups were to begin talking

about their shared grievances against the United States government.

Rael’s initial salutation was more than an expression of warm hospitality.

Rather, it represented an important turning point in the San Luis land rights struggle.

More specifically, it signaled the emergence of a cohesive political movement, which

had replaced a “movement” characterized by diffuse, individual acts of resistance and

long periods of stagnation. This revived movement, led by the newly-formed Land

Rights Council and centered on the issue of regaining the community’s lost land

rights, was self-confident, focused, and defined by a new militancy.

At the time of the land conference, social and political changes on the national

level had created a political atmosphere ripe for militant social protest. Into this

atmosphere stepped three politically-astute individuals whose organizing skills,

knowledge, and passion for justice enabled them to seize upon the opportunities

created by such an atmosphere. The political careers of Apolinar Rael, Ray Otero,

and Shirley Romero converged at a crucial time in the history of the San Luis struggle

and the history of social movements in the United States. Following individual paths

to politicization, the three came together and rekindled the community’s spirit of

94

resistance and built upon the culture of opposition that had characterized San Luis

since its earliest years of settlement in the mid-19th century.

Race became a key component of the newly energized thinking. While the

community had never addressed the issue of race or racism, clearly race was a factor

in the relationship between the community and those who either challenged its rights

or refused to validate them. Racial assumptions—what Ian Haney Lopez has termed

“racism as common sense”—were certainly on the mind of Judge Hatfield Chilson

following the trial, when explained that in his ruling he “wanted to bring the

Mexicans into the 20th century.”2

This chapter will explore this complicated issue of race, along with other

facets of the political development of the LRC. More specifically, I will examine

how race fit in with the LRC’s sense of itself, its community, and its struggle for

justice. Further, I will look at what factors came together in the mid-1970s to give

rise to a more militant voice of resistance from the San Luis community and what

shape that resistance assumed.

A confluence of factors—both national and local—came together in the late

1960s and 1970s to create an electric atmosphere. In this atmosphere, resistance

became almost a responsibility of oppressed groups. The factors that created this

politically-fertile atmosphere included the reforms adopted by the Second Vatican

Council for the Catholic Church; a widespread disenchantment with, and questioning

of, America’s involvement in Vietnam; the move toward a more militant ethos in the

black civil rights movement; the spread of that militancy to the nation’s other

2 Haney López, Racism on Trial, xxi; La Merced, 14.

95

minority groups—especially the Chicanos and American Indians; and President

Lyndon Johnson’s War on Poverty.

THE BIRTH OF A LEADER: APOLINAR RAEL

While the community’s commitment to regain its lost land rights never

completely disappeared, enthusiasm for the cause certainly waned following the 1965

ruling. Individual acts of resistance—trespassing on Taylor’s property, tearing down

Taylor’s fences, and even destroying Taylor’s machinery—dwindled as community

members moved away as a result of the dire economic effects of Taylor’s presence.

For many, the situation seemed hopeless, and many community members had

resigned themselves to living within the existing situation, with about a third of the

residents living below the poverty line, and with a median income of nearly 60% less

than the Colorado state average.3

The effects of the dazzling changes on the national scene, however, began to

trickle down into the community of San Luis. By the early 1970s, the relationship

between the Catholic Church and its members in San Luis was changing. The

Church, which had always been the heart of this devout community, was undergoing

important changes, which would help encourage social activism in the San Luis

Valley. From 1962-1965 Pope John XXIII presided over a series of meetings in

Vatican City, where the top leaders in the Catholic Church met to discuss ways to

make their institution more relevant in the 20th century. The Church itself had not

changed much since the Council of Trent, held in 1570, and the changes instituted by

3 Gloria Rael Maestas, interview; “Position Paper,” La Sierra Foundation of San Luis, submitted by the Costilla County Conservancy District, San Luis, Colorado, October 1993.

96

the Vatican Council were nothing short of revolutionary. In the words of one priest,

Vatican II “introduced the people to the Eucharist… [whereas] before they were only

concerned with the statues in the church,” now they were focused on their personal

relationship with God. Before the Vatican Council, the priest said mass with his back

to the people; it was “the priest’s private mass.” After the Council, the priest faced

his congregation and welcomed them to join with him in celebrating the Eucharist

and what it meant.4

Under the guidance of Pope John XXIII, church leaders created a blueprint for

the Church in the 20th century and beyond. Church leaders underscored their

commitment to social justice, and they intended to create a modern Church that would

address the injustices of society. At a time when American society was experiencing

President Lyndon Johnson’s War on Poverty, the Catholic Church began waging its

own war on poverty, particularly through its Campaign for Human Development,

which would be critical to the formation of the San Luis Land Rights Council. As the

social justice arm of the American Catholic Church, the CHD funded empowerment

programs for communities with at least 50% of its population categorized as “low

income.” The program intended the funds to be used to develop organic programs

that would improve the communities.

As the Catholic Church began to institute such reforms on the worldwide

level, changes began to seep into the San Luis community. In time, the CHD would

provide the first $50,000 to fund the Land Rights Council’s activities.5 By 1971,

4 Father Angelo Urdiain, interview by author, Denver, CO, 10 June 2004, handwritten notes of author, personal files of author. 5 Shirley Romero-Otero, interview; Charlie Jaquez, interview; Gloria Rael Maestas, interview; Dick Johnston, The Taylor Ranch War: Property Rights Die (Bloomington, IN: Authorhouse, 2006), 246.

97

those changes had reached San Luis in the form of a young priest, sent by the

authorities in Rome to preside over the spiritual health of the community. In 1971,

Father Angelo Urdiain—born and raised in the Basque region of Spain—arrived from

St. Thomas Seminary in Denver. He served as the parish priest in San Luis from

1971 to 1984—critical years in the political maturation of the community. Father

Angelo arrived with three young Franciscan sisters who were fresh out of school and

excited to begin implementing Vatican II reforms. The four of them were charged

with “opening up the people to a broader reality”—bringing the reforms of Vatican II

to a grassroots level—and helping the people to change their lives for the better.6

When Father Angelo arrived, he encountered a community that had been

beaten down economically, but that had nevertheless remained devout in its religious

beliefs and practices. The Most Precious Blood Catholic Church was the center of

people’s lives. Even the agricultural calendar year coincided with religious feast

days, and the parish priest was responsible for blessing the crop lands each year. He

even held a few masses outside, at the base of La Sierra, a practice which underscored

the community’s closeness with the natural landscape.7 In every aspect of their lives,

Father Angelo argued, the people of San Luis were a “people steeped in religious

tradition.” Perhaps most of all, the majority of Father Angelo’s congregation had

“not been awakened to…the concept of justice.”8 Time after time, the community

had felt the sting of injustice and racism from the outside world, and many people had

6 Shirley Romero-Otero, interview; Charlie Jaquez, interview; Gloria Rael Maestas, interview; Johnston, The Taylor Ranch War, 246; See also Patrick H. McNamara, “Catholicism, Assimilation, and the Chicano Movement: Los Angeles as a Case Study.” In Chicanos and Native Americans: The Territorial Minorities. (Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall, Inc., 1973), 124-130. 7 Shirley Romero-Otero, interview; Charlie Jaquez, interview. 8 Father Angelo Urdiain, interview.

98

unconsciously resigned themselves to such second-class citizenship. Six years had

passed since the District Court Ruling, and life had settled back to normal after those

early, turbulent, pre-ruling years of fighting with Jack Taylor over access to La Sierra.

It was into this atmosphere that Father Angelo entered in 1971. When the

young, unsuspecting priest was making his usual Sunday evening visits to various

members of his parish, he encountered an elderly man who would spend his twilight

years changing the course of his community’s history. Jose Apolinar Rael—known

by his community as Apolinar—was one of two or three San Luis residents who had a

stronger sense of justice at the time. The first time Father Angelo visited Mr. Rael,

after Sunday mass, he immediately realized that this man was different from the rest.

Father Angelo recalled their first meeting,

“Right away he got on Taylor. [He told me] ‘Father, we have to do something.’ [Apolinar] had all the details in his head…he was so focused on the injustice of 1960...[He] had fire in the belly. Day and night, he dreamed of the Taylor ranch…he got people on fire.” 9

Father Angelo left that initial meeting simply “enchanted with him.”10 The

man that Father Angelo became so enchanted with would eventually become, for

many, the “spiritual guide for the movement.”11 Apolinar was born and raised in San

Pablo, a satellite ranching community of San Luis, just to the southwest of the main

street in San Luis. At the time of their meeting, Apolinar was in his late-70s, yet he

was physically fit, spry, and intellectually on top of his game. He was a slim, small

man, who stood about 5’6” tall, and spoke labored English, preferring to speak in

9 Father Angelo Urdiain, interview. 10 Ibid. 11 “San Luis Land Rights Activist Jose Apolinar Rael Dies,” The Pueblo Chieftain, July 7, 1993.

99

Spanish. He usually wore work clothes and a cowboy hat. He worked his San Pablo

ranch and tended to his animals until his final years.

Rael was a descendant of one of the community’s first settlers. His

grandfather told stories of the family having to come to North America to escape

persecution targeting Jews in Spain. They arrived in San Luis via Mexico, as many

Spanish families did. The family arrived with the name De Rael, which was likely

changed from De Israel, a Jewish name. The family therefore knew the sting of

persecution.12 Rael’s grandfather also fought bravely at the Battle of Glorieta Pass,

one of the key western battles of the Civil War, where he was blinded, but in which

he aided the effort to keep the Confederates out of the Southwest.13 It was this legacy

of courage and service to the American nation—and what it could stand for—that

Apolinar would hold dear for the rest of his life.

Rael carried with him an unwavering commitment to justice, what Father

Angelo had called “fire in the belly.”14 According to his daughter, Gloria Rael

Maestas, Apolinar Rael was a man who would see injustice and was unable to rest

until he took action to correct it.15 Regarding the land rights issue, Apolinar knew the

history of all the land transactions, the shady, backroom shenanigans, and the rights

that the local settlers should have been guaranteed for all time.16 He and his

contemporary, Juan LaComb, kept the movement alive during a time when poverty

and hopelessness seemed to tighten its grip on the community. They continued their

public discourse on the injustice of 1960, despite harsh criticism by more

12 Gloria Rael Maestas, interview. 13 Ibid. 14 Father Angelo Urdiain, interview. 15 Gloria Rael Maestas, interview. 16 Robert Kino Green, interview.

100

conservative elements of the community, who believed that God would take care of

such things.17 He continued to remind people that, “La Sierra es nuestra madre,

tenemos que pelear por ella,” or “La Sierra is our mother, we have to fight for her.”18

One of the more poignant stories of Rael’s commitment to fairness and

equality had nothing to do with the land rights issue. It was a simple trip to a

restaurant with his children. He had taken his sons and his daughter, Gloria, to a

restaurant in La Junta, a small town in southeastern Colorado. Gloria recalled the

huge mirror, hanging over the bar, with the words, “We do not serve Mexicans.” She

and her brothers panicked. “Dad! Look at that; look at that.” Apolinar reassured

them, “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.” And so they just sat there, until the waitress

finally came to their table, pointed to the sign and said, “What’s the matter, Mr., can’t

you read?” Without skipping a beat, Apolinar replied, “Yeah,” he said, “I can read.

But you need not worry; we do not eat Mexicans.”19

The waitress was so embarrassed that she went to her boss, in the kitchen,

who then came out, acting tough, and said, “Are we having a little trouble here?” Just

a couple minutes before, Apolinar had seen a police car pull up across the street from

the restaurant. He looked at the cook and said, “You see that car out there? He’s

waiting for us to be served. And if we’re not served . . .and I mean, in style, he’s

coming in. All I have to do is signal him, and he’s coming in and he’ll shut you down

right now.” Apolinar had no idea what the police officer’s stance on the issue would

have been, for he just happened to be parked across the street, but he saw an

17 Gloria Rael Maestas, interview; Charlie Jaquez, interview. 18 “Legal Action to Regain La Sierra,” Tierra y Libertad, September 1980. 19 Gloria Rael Maestas, interview.

101

opportunity and he quickly seized it. In the end, his family was served in style.20

This was exactly the kind of cleverness and determination that Apolinar would apply

to the land rights problem.

Although Apolinar would later support education as a form of resistance and

empowerment—particularly educating the youth about their history—he had little use

for formal education himself. He preferred going fishing to going to school, but he

always made sure to catch extra fish to give to his teacher. Even as a child, Apolinar

understood how to deal with people. Because he only went to the fifth grade, his wife

had to teach him math, but once he learned something, he became very good at it.

His daughter, Gloria Rael Maestas, recalled that local farmers were coming to him to

measure their haystacks, because he could calculate the number of tons of hay most

accurately.21

Apolinar also carried with him a strong sense of community. Maestas

remembered how her father enjoyed helping others, providing food or wood for those

families who did not have enough. When he gave, he often preferred not calling

attention to his generosity. Yet, he also demanded the same from others. With tactics

that seemed unnecessarily harsh, he attempted to instill the same values in his

children. He taught them the value of hard work. His daughter recalled one time

when her father assigned his 12-year-old son, Victor, to sheep duty all summer. The

young boy was up in the canyons of La Sierra with the sheep all summer long—

alone. Rael refused to let him come down from the mountain, despite his wife’s

pleading. Rael intended to teach his son how to work hard and how to appreciate the

20 Ibid. 21 Ibid.

102

bounty of La Sierra. Amid bears and mountain lions, young Victor had to learn

quickly how to protect himself and his family’s flock of sheep. To occupy the lonely

hours—and the life of a shepherd was one of loneliness and boredom—Rael gave his

son the family Bible. Rael beamed with pride when his son returned and could cite

biblical passages by heart.22 This industrious spirit would be crucial to the success of

the land rights movement, particularly in the years leading up to, and immediately

following, the formation of the LRC.

In addition to teaching his children and grandchildren the value of hard work,

Rael taught them the importance of political struggle in the face of injustice. He

taught them to fight for their rights and to always stand up for justice, particularly

after Taylor arrived and “robbed” the people of their legal land rights.

[My dad would stand up and tell us] “Esto es tu papasande. [This is your father—said as if to demand immediate attention from his children.] This is what is taking place. If you do not become interested, if you do not show that you are aware of these things, you’re going to lose everything. Protect what you have. Protect the rights of the people.”23

In 1974, Rael penned a letter to his granddaughter Deborah Gallegos. At first

glance, the letter seems like any other letter between family members, but upon closer

examination, it is clearly one of the most revealing windows into Rael. It provides us

with more than a glimpse into the workings of the “father” of the San Luis land rights

movement.24 It is essentially a statement of Rael’s views on the land rights issue and

a repository of the oral history regarding the history of the grant. Notably, he was

well aware that he was writing for an audience that went beyond his granddaughter,

22 Ibid. 23 Ibid. 24 Most of the activists I interviewed credited Rael with being in the inspiration for the movement and for their particular own involvement in the movement. Videos and newspapers have also hailed Rael as the founder and spirit of the movement.

103

as he gave her permission to publish parts of it in the Adams State College

newspaper.25

Rael began the letter with a detailed legal description and history of the

Sangre de Cristo land grant, calling particular attention to the local residents’ rights to

use La Sierra and the Vega lands. The latter, he stated, consisted of lowland

communal grazing land “[given] to the people tax exempt to pasture milk cows, team

of horses and donkeys no sheep no goats no hogs.” 26 Throughout his life, Rael had

fought relentlessly to save against development and encroachment by local people.

One year, he and Juan LaComb took a bulldozer to a set of bleachers, which had been

set up by the County Commissioners, who had voted to put a baseball field on the

Vega. Rael saw this as a violation of Vega policy.27

Rael went on to detail the rights of the local people to use the resources of La

Sierra, saying it was “[given] to the people free for sheep goats and cattle

pasture...firewood, lumber...[and for] fish[ing] and hunt[ing]...as [well] as

recreation.”28 He then states that Charles Beaubien, who “give all the rights to the

early settlers,” was the “only owner” of the grant, and that all other Anglos who

invested in La Sierra—such as Gilpin, Blackmore, William Meyer, and Taylor—were

25 Apolinar Rael to Deborah Gallegos, 27 January 1974. 26 Ibid. 27 Gloria Rael Maestas, interview; Charlie Jaquez, interview. During my time in San Luis, I heard many stories of land owners adjacent to the Vega moving their fences during the night, in order to expand the boundaries of their own land. Rael was a fierce opponent of such unscrupulous behavior. In the case of the baseball field, the County Commissioners never again attempted to implement their plan. 28 Apolinar Rael to Deborah Gallegos, 27 January 1974; Apolinar’s description of the locals’ rights is very close to the direct translation of the 1863 Beaubien document. Rael was one of the early activists who pushed for collective activism, based on the fact that he “knew” there were legal documents that supported the San Luis community’s claims.

104

crooks who attempted to violate those rights. He followed the history with an

assessment of the current situation:

The Spanish American people in Costilla County are fince [fenced] in within 6000 acres of land without no wood for fuel. Without no pasture for livestock without no recreation fishing hunting and they are all living under government aid one way or another.29

In closing, Rael included a poem, which cautioned Deborah to avoid the trappings of

materialism and the lure of false friends and to remain true to the values of her

ancestors.30

Rael’s letter displays his sharp mind, as reflected in the level of detail

mentioned; his gift for eloquence, as many of the passages are rich in metaphor; and

his commitment to educate the next generation about the struggle, by encouraging

Deborah to publish it in the college newspaper. It also shows us that by early 1974,

Rael was displaying a self-awareness that allowed him to see the land rights issue in

terms of its larger significance. The struggle was not only a local one.

This was the man that Father Angelo encountered in the early 1970s and

became so intrigued with. After mass each Sunday, Rael would invite the priest to

his house and continue to school him in the gravity of the land rights problem.

“Father, don’t leave, I want to reclaim our rights.” Those visits eventually had an

effect on the priest. “[Apolinar] awakened in me a desire to do something,” Father

Angelo later recalled. Soon the young priest was encouraging Rael to recruit

community members to help him in his cause. Ever crafty, Rael began peddling

29 Ibid. 30 Ibid. It is not clear if Rael was the original author of the poem, which flows must more smoothly in Spanish. An English translation of the poem reads: “When I have money/ My friends don’t let me down/ Now that I have nothing/ No one gives me a drink of water/ When I have money/ They bring me a chair/ Now that I have nothing/ They corner me.”

105

goods from door to door. Once he had people’s attention, he began explaining to

them the necessity of doing “something” about the injustice of the 1960 land

transaction and the subsequent efforts by Taylor to extinguish the rights of the

community to access the resources of La Sierra. He was always talking about the

land situation, even to people who did not want to hear about it. Gradually, it began

to work.31

Although he was busy introducing his congregation to the post-Vatican II

Church and taking youth on retreats throughout the West, Father Angelo did support

the early activists. He attended a few meetings and provided the religious argument

for why the community should feel justified in its actions, assuring the congregation

that the Church is behind its movement for justice.32 His backing of the movement

surely convinced some of the more reticent members of the community to support a

movement that they may have initially viewed with suspicion.

THE VOICES OF A YOUNGER GENERATION

Rael did not act alone in those early years. His good friend, also in his 70s at

the time of Father Angelo’s arrival, was a man named Juan LaComb. Although quiet

by nature, LaComb shared Rael’s commitment to justice. In the years following

Taylor’s arrival in 1960, LaComb helped spearhead the early resistance movements.

He was a founding member, along with Rael, of the early La Asociacion de los

Derechos, the predecessor to the Land Rights Council, which organized in 1959.

Though formed on the eve of Jack Taylor’s arrival, the organization strengthened in

31 Shirley Romero-Otero, interview. 32 Ibid.

106

response to the perceived injustices committed by Taylor.33 LaComb would remain

committed to the movement until he died in the late 1980s.34

The wisdom, determination, and passion of Apolinar Rael and Juan LaComb

soon met with the organizing skills and radical politics of young Chicano activists,

who were inspired and educated by the National Chicano Movement and the other

minority justice movements of the late 60s and early 70s, as well as by the changes

implemented by Father Angelo and the new Church.35 Three years into his stay in

San Luis, Father Angelo encountered a young woman who had graduated from the

local high school and had just returned from her first year of college.36 In 1975,

Shirley Romero, born and raised in San Luis, had attended college at Adams State, in

Alamosa, but then had decided to drop out and pursue movement politics in her home

town. She had grown up with a World War II veteran father, who combined

patriotism with a sense of justice, and a mother who worked as a school cook, and

who had led walkouts in protest against unfair wages. Shirley carried this same sense

of justice throughout her career as an activist. A Chicano history class Shirley took at

Adams State fueled her decision to give up her studies and dedicate her time to justice

and to the protection of her community and its land rights.37 She credited the class

with changing the direction of her life, “...we learned our history and we learned to be 33 Meeting minutes suggest that the organization formed out of local concern regarding the intentions of the Costilla Estates Company to sell the land, which they eventually did in 1960. La Asociacion members likely wanted to clarify and assert their rights, in the face of a new owner. 34 Gloria Rael Maestas, interview; Glenda Maes, interview; Shirley Romero-Otero, interview. 35 For general overviews of the National Chicano Movement, see Carlos Munoz, Jr. Youth, Identity, Power: The Chicano Movement (New York: Verso, 1989); George Mariscal, Brown-Eyed Children of the Sun: Lessons from the Chicano Movement, 1965-1975. (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 2005); Juan Gómez-Quinones, Chicano Politics: Reality and Promise, 1940-1990. (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico, 1990). For an account of Chicano activism in Colorado, see Ernesto B. Vigil. The Crusade for Justice: Chicano Militancy and the Government’s War on Dissent (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1999). 36 Father Angelo Urdiain, interview; Shirley Romero-Otero, interview. 37 Shirley Romero-Otero, interview.

107

proud of ourselves...Your history and your language is the backbone of a people.

And the bottom line in the whole Chicano movement was the question of land,

because a people without a land [are] like a feather in the wind.”38 She took this

knowledge and passion back home and used it to work for the return of her

community's unique rights to the resources of La Sierra. Romero would find the

youth most receptive to her message. Young people listened to her and wanted to

know more about their history as a land grant community—a history that they were

not taught in their schools.39

In 1978, Shirley Romero’s efforts paid off, when she co-founded the Land

Rights Council of San Luis and served as its first president. She became an

indispensable figure in the long struggle for justice. Her assertive leadership would

also make her an inspiration to many women in the community, encouraging them to

become politicized in defense of their community and their families. This was

perhaps among Romero’s greatest contributions. Women like Glenda Maes, Maria

Mondragon Valdez, and Gloria Rael Maestas—following the lead of Romero—

eventually became important leaders in the community. Following Apolinar Rael’s

death in 1994, these women accepted the symbolic torch from Rael and pledged to

continue their resistance in his honor.40

Other changes were taking place as well. Like many other Chicano

communities, San Luis saw a disproportionate number of its young men drafted into

38 “A Lost Land Grant: Can it be reclaimed?,” High Country News, October 18, 1993. 39 Shirley Romero-Otero, interview; Glenda Maes, interview. 40 Glenda Maes, interview, Shirley Romero-Otero, interview. Glenda Maes and Shirley Romero-Otero have frequently spoken about how they have been inspired by Apolinar Rael and see him as the father of the movement. Both women have been consistent supporters of the movement, with Shirley guiding the movement in the 1990s, until after the court victory in 2002. The contributions of these women will be discussed in greater detail in chapters 4 and 5.

108

the military. Others turned to the military for lack of other economic opportunities

after high school. The young men entered the military full of pride and purpose. For

many San Luis residents, the military has always been one way to express loyalty and

patriotism. Even during the pre-Taylor days, when locals enjoyed more economic

opportunities, men willingly went to war for their country. This reflected a general

trend in Chicano/Latino families and communities.41

As the war in Vietnam raged on, however, the nation began to question its

government’s commitment to the conflict. Minority communities, in particular,

began to question the large numbers of their own people being sent to perform the

most dangerous duties in Vietnam, only to return to a society that still viewed them as

second-class citizens. This discontent reached San Luis through its own young men

who had been sent to war and had returned to a racist society. It also reached the

community through Ray Otero, a young Chicano activist who arrived in 1978. Otero

would help to revive the community’s flailing land rights movement.

Otero was born and raised in Fruita, Colorado, on the Western Slope. He

came from a proud Chicano family, and at the age of 10, he had an experience that

would foreshadow his later life. The pastor at his family’s church had invited a guest

to talk to the congregation, and young Otero sat and listened to the fiery speaker. The

speaker was the preacher Reies Tijerina, and he made a lasting impression on young

Otero. Reies López Tijerina would become one of the most important leaders of the

Chicano movement in the 1960s. He was the first to bring the issue of land grant

claims in the Southwest to national attention—calling attention to the history of

unscrupulous speculators and politicians who dispossessed the Chicano people of 41 Robert Kino Green, interview; Eugene Lobato, interview.

109

their land. Known for his flamboyant resistant tactics and fiery rhetoric, Tijerina’s

name became synonymous with the land grant movement. In 1963, he founded the

Alianza Federal de las Mercedes [The Federal Land Grant Alliance], which four

years later raided the Rio Arriba County courthouse in Tierra Amarilla, New Mexico.

The group carried out a citizen’s arrest of the District Attorney for encouraging local

police to break up one of their meetings.42 Otero couldn’t have known that, years

after Tijerina’s visit to his to Colorado, he would be working side by side with

Tijerina in the New Mexico Land Grant Movement.

At the age of 17, Otero dropped out of school, and eight days later, he was in

the U.S. Army. His father, Max Otero, saw that his son did not have many options

open to him and encouraged him in his decision to join the military. Ray’s father was

a well-respected man in the community, and he strongly encouraged his son to uphold

that family tradition. In 1965, at the age of 19, young Otero found himself jumping

out of airplanes in Vietnam. Younger and smaller than the other paratroopers, Otero

proved himself to be every bit as brave and capable of doing the job with the best of

them. After he was injured in combat, he returned home and was unable to find a job.

Otero later assessed it was because he and other veterans had been labeled “baby

killers” and faced discrimination from those who did not support the war. Upon his

return, Otero began looking more closely at the issues that were affecting him and

others like him, such as unemployment, housing discrimination, and a welfare system

plagued with problems. He saw that for many Chicanos, field labor was the only job

42 Reies López Tijerina, They Called Me “King Tiger”: My Struggle for the Land and Our Rights in Hispanic Civil Rights Series (Houston: Arte Público Press, 2000), 80-93; Ray Otero, Public lecture, 30 March 2006.

110

opportunity available to them, since they were the least educated in the community.43

The racism had always been there, but now Otero began to see it in a different light.

His disgust over the system propelled him to political activism.

Otero began organizing Chicanos around various social justice issues in Grand

Junction—quite a feat for that time, since Grand Junction was predominantly Anglo

and a very conservative community.44 In 1973, he had another fateful encounter,

when he met Cesar Chavez who, like Tijerina, made a lasting impression on him.

The young Otero met Chavez during a series of lettuce strikes in Colorado, sponsored

by the United Farm Workers. Otero described him in the most respectful terms. “He

just glowed. He was humble and honest. He had a lot of conviction and wanted to do

a lot after suffering in the fields for many years.”45

So there he was—a young Chicano, angry at the injustice he saw and wanting

to do something about it—caught between two leaders. On one side was the militant

Tijerina, whom Otero had known as a boy and who was willing to resort to violent

means of resistance. And, on the other side was Chavez, a less polarizing activist,

dedicated to nonviolent means of resisting injustice. Otero knew killing and violence,

having served in Vietnam, and he did not shy away from it at home. The question

then was: which method would he choose? Otero looked at Chavez’ non-violent

movement and saw that little was being accomplished, and when he looked at New

Mexico and Southern Colorado, he saw that the land grant movement was still going

strong. The courthouse raid that Tijerina orchestrated in 1967 set the issue of land

43 Shirley Romero-Otero, interview; Ray Otero, public lecture, 30 March 2006. 44 Shirley Romero-Otero, interview. 45 Ray Otero, public lecture, 30 March 2006; “Fort Collins and Colorado State University Celebrate the Legacy of Cesar Chavez,” Press Release, Colorado State University, Fort Collins, CO, March 21, 2003.

111

grants on fire. In the end, Otero chose Tijerina, traveling to Northern New Mexico to

work with him. It was there that Otero gained invaluable organizing experience,

plugged himself into an activist network, and committed himself to a life of social

activism.46

In November 1972, at the invitation of Dr. Jorge A Bustamante, Otero

traveled to Mexico City with Tijerina and fellow activist Antonio Mondragón. As the

liaison between his country’s government and the Chicano movement, Bustamante

had attended the Alianza’s Land and Culture conference in New Mexico and had

arranged for the three activists to meet with his president. When they met with

President Luis Echeverría Álvarez to discuss the Chicano land grant problem, the

president expressed his support for the Alianza.47 Otero likely came away from the

meeting with a greater sense of the extent of the problem and a deeper knowledge of

the historical roots of the land issues. In 2000, Otero would try to revive the alliance

between the Mexican Government and the land grant movement.48 In 1973, events

on the national scene would temporarily take Otero away from the land grant

movement.

In February of that year, activists from the American Indian Movement (AIM)

occupied a group of buildings in the small town of Wounded Knee, on the Pine Ridge

Reservation in South Dakota in order to draw attention to the poverty and

hopelessness that plagued the reservation. Along with other Chicano activists in the 46 Ray Otero, public lecture, March 30, 2006. 47 López Tijerina, They Called Me “King Tiger,”176-77. Upon applying for a travel visa to attend the meeting with President Echeverría, Tijerina, Otero, and Mondragón were denied. Echeverría intervened personally to ask that they be granted travel visas. Otero and his wife have spoken to me extensively about the FBI surveillance and harassment that he experienced during the 1970s and 1980s. 48 Ray Otero, public remarks, LRC Land Grant Conference, San Luis, Colorado, April 2001, author’s personal notes.

112

region, Ray Otero traveled to Wounded Knee to lend his support to the AIM activists.

He and others were outraged when federal officials responded to AIM actions with

force, killing one Indian and wounding many other Indians and non-Indians. At the

site of the occupation, Otero found an outlet for his anger and frustrations over the

social injustices he had witnessed. His visit was one of solidarity with the Native

American activists, in their movement for justice. Otero’s experience at Wounded

Knee deeply influenced him. His future activism would carry with it the militancy

that the siege at Wounded Knee represented.49

Just one year after Wounded Knee, Otero lost his closest friend, Reyes

Martinez, in one of two bomb explosions. On May 27 and 29, 1974, two bomb

explosions killed him and five other young Chicano activists, in Boulder, Colorado,

near the University of Colorado campus. Two of the victims were current students at

the University, while Martinez and the other three were community activists, who had

expressed their support for the United Mexican American Students (UMAS) at C.U.

After their investigations of the bomb explosions, authorities concluded that the

young people had been killed by bombs that they themselves had constructed. These

conclusions infuriated the Chicano activist community, who saw them as part of a

“deliberate campaign” to blame the victims and discredit the larger Movement. The

victims—Los Seis de Boulder—would be remembered as martyrs of the Colorado

Movement.50 For Ray Otero, the loss of his closest friend and the accusatory

49 Ray Otero, public lecture, 30 March 2006; Vigil, The Crusade for Justice, 201-208. 50 Vigil, The Crusade for Justice, 295-299; Ray Otero, public lecture, 30 March 2006. Reyes Martinez had been an attorney with Colorado Rural Legal Services. He was the brother of Francisco “Kiko” Martinez, another young, radical attorney. Both were from the San Luis Valley and could trace their family roots there back to the mid-1800s. Other victims included: Neva Romero, UMAS leader; Una Jaakola, CU student; Florencio Granado, former UMAS leader and candidate for La Raza Unida Party in Texas; Heriberto Teran, UMAS activist; and Francisco Dougherty, Vietnam Veteran.

113

atmosphere that emerged in its wake further fueled his own commitment to social

justice.51

By the mid-1970s, Otero had gained a reputation as an energetic, effective

community organizer with the passion and determination to make change. Traveling

extensively throughout the state, he was also contributing to a growing regional

network of Chicano political activists. In 1977, Otero made a fateful stop in Pueblo,

Colorado—a relatively small city on the Front Range, 100 miles south of Denver.52

The Pueblo that Otero encountered in the 1970s was one that had become a center of

Chicano political activity. At the center of Pueblo’s lively Chicano network was a

newspaper called La Cucaracha, run by two Chicano activists who had met at the

University of Colorado at Boulder in 1972, during the height of Chicano activism on

campus. Motivated by the injustices plaguing Chicanos statewide and inspired by the

political ferment of the day, David Martinez and Juan Espinosa relocated to Pueblo

in 1975 and decided to start a Chicano newspaper.53

After arriving in Pueblo, Martinez and Espinosa met up with Pueblo native

and young law school graduate Jess Vigil, who was working for the Catholic Diocese

of Pueblo. Vigil shared their passion for social justice and invited them to apply for

support through the Campaign for Human Development, essentially the anti-poverty

arm of the Catholic Church. The CHD was dedicated to providing support for

51 Ray Otero, public lecture, 30 March 2006. 52 Founded in 1842 on the Arkansas River, Pueblo operated as a multi-racial trading post, bringing together whites, Latinos and Indians. By the 1880s, it had become a steel manufacturing town, with a storied history of union activity. For more information, see Lamar, The Far Southwest, 246. For a Latino history of Pueblo, see the Colorado chapter by Tom I. Romero and Nicki M. Gonzales, in “Latino America: State by State” forthcoming by Greenwood Press and edited by Mark Overmyer-Velazquez. In 1970, according to the US Census Bureau, Statistical Abstracts, table 31, “Incorporated places with population greater than 100,000 in 2005” Pueblo had a population of 98,000 people. 53 David Martinez, interview; Vigil, The Crusade for Justice, 22, 111, 126.

114

community entities dedicated to eradicating poverty through social justice

movements. Martinez and Espinosa applied for a CHD grant, under the name

Producciones Estrella Roja [Red Star Productions]. That year, they received the first

of three years funding from the CHD.54

On May 5, 1976, Martinez and Espinosa published the first issue of La

Cucaracha, “a community newspaper written from a Chicano perspective.” The two

editors’ goal of establishing a Chicano voice--“an alternative to the existing media”—

came to fruition. The paper took its name from the “lowly insect which has roamed

the Earth since before the dinosaurs and has survived every natural catastrophe.” The

editors likened the cockroach to the Chicano who, along with his “Indio brother,” has

survived the Anglo society’s attempts to exterminate our language, culture, and

future.”55 Over time, La Cucaracha attracted the attention of both regional and

national activists and gained a reputation for integrity and professional journalism.

La Cucaracha offices became a hub for activists seeking information and

opportunities to network with others. The newspaper drew Puerto Rican activists

from New York and the island, as well as Native Americans from the American

Indian Movement. It was into this atmosphere and existing network of activists that

Otero entered in 1977.56

During the mid-1970s, San Luis was also experiencing a surge in activism. A

renewed spirit of resistance was emerging, as community activists were engaging in 54 David Martinez, interview; Vigil, The Crusade for Justice, 22, 111, 126.; Although Martinez and Espinosa did not intend Producciones Estrella Roja to be an overtly political symbol, they were aware of its political and historical significance as a universal symbol of resistance. 55 “’ola,” La Cucaracha, May 5, 1976; David Martinez, interview. La Cucaracha would be published until 1981. 56 David Martinez, interview. Martinez could not recall whether the year was 1977 or 1978. According to my research, 1977 is likely the year that Otero arrived in Pueblo. Martinez became roommates with Otero and worked closely with him until Otero moved to San Luis.

115

an assortment of direct actions at the grassroots level. For example, it would be

during the mid-1970s that community elder, Apolinar Rael, began making frequent

visits to his neighbors and the local priest, in order to spread his gospel of resistance.

At the same time, he was writing letters to state and national politicians, educating

them about the land rights problem and, in some cases, criticizing their hypocrisy and

inaction toward his community. Others, like Eugene Martinez were cutting fences

and trespassing on Taylor’s land. The violence peaked in 1975, when Jack Taylor

was shot while sleeping in his ranch house, at the top of La Sierra. Supposedly,

according to local San Luis lore, the shooter had aimed for his pillow, but had hit his

ankle. Taylor’s habit of sleeping with his feet on the pillow saved his life. No one

was ever prosecuted for the shooting. Chicano activists began to take note of the

events taking place in San Luis. Otero, who at the time had taken a job with the

Pueblo Diocese, assessed the situation and thought that perhaps what the San Luis

community was lacking was effective organizing.57

In 1978, Otero decided to move south to San Luis. His decision was aided by

a phone call from local land rights activist Gene Sanchez, of Chama. Sanchez, a

personal friend of Otero, had become active in the land rights issue, but recognized

that there was no central organization in his community to harness and focus the

political energy. He believed Otero could fill this void.58 Otero’s militancy,

organizing experience, experience with the CHD, and commitment to coalition-

building helped give shape and purpose to the political ferment in San Luis. While

57 Eugene Martinez, interview; Robert Kino Green, interview; David Martinez, interview. 58 Ray Otero, public lecture, 30 March 2006; David Martinez, interview; David Martinez, email exchange with author, 26 September 2007; “The Battle of La Sierra: Locals hope the good ol’days of the ‘60s—the 1860s that is—are coming back to San Luis, Colorado,” In These Times, October 28, 2002.

116

Shirley Romero and Apolinar Rael would embrace Otero, as his message resonated

with theirs, the larger community, still suspicious of outsiders, would be slow to

embrace him.59 However, he persisted, and soon many of the locals realized that he

had no ulterior motives, but was committed to achieving justice.

While Apolinar’s rhetoric and leadership inspired many, and Shirley’s

youthful optimism connected the youth with the message that Apolinar was

preaching, Otero’s skills brought the activists in the community together to fight the

injustice of 1960. He harnessed the forces of discontent and resistance that existed in

the community and combined them into a powerful coalition of activists. Otero found

a ready audience, for example, among the young men returning from service in

Vietnam. Despite the community’s tradition of patriotism, the Vietnam War marked

an important turning point, giving rise to a questioning of that patriotic tradition. In

the late 1960s and early 1970s, as the war dragged on with little hope in sight, young

soldiers returned to their home in San Luis, and like Otero, felt disillusioned by the

continued poverty and injustices they saw. San Luis veterans came home to their

community and saw their own rights of citizenship threatened by Jack Taylor, another

American whose freedom they were fighting for in Vietnam. Further, the nation’s

court system within their democratic nation had supported what they saw as blatant

injustice. This combination of factors—the least of which being that they had risked

their lives in the jungles of Vietnam in defense of democratic ideals that they and

their families were not entitled to—proved very powerful. “I came back from

Vietnam in 1968 to the same barriers and fences. I wondered what I had fought

59 Shirley Romero-Otero, interview; Robert Kino Green, interview.

117

for.”60 This statement by activist Pete Espinoza sums up what many combat veterans

felt upon their return from Vietnam. The anger created by such contradictory

experiences stirred them to political action.

Charlie Jaquez, who would become active in the land rights movement, also

felt disillusioned upon his return from Vietnam. He described the war as “an

incredibly sick experience. Black and Brown Americans were just funneled into

combat. When I came home I was real bitter…” Jaquez could not even bring himself

to say the pledge of allegiance upon his return from Vietnam.61 His combat

experience fueled his future activism and his determination to see justice achieved in

his hometown of San Luis.

Eugene Martinez, a military veteran who had served in the pre-Vietnam era,

was more vocal in critique of the State’s hypocrisy. He argued many times that

“[Chicanos have] no business…fighting for this govt. anywhere else unless we were attacked or something, but aside from that we have no business. Hispanics have no business fighting in the military of the United States, because they’ve done nothing for us. All they get us to do is to do to some other poor guy what this country did to us.”62

Martinez further likened the injustices committed in war to the injustices at home.

“I’d rather kill somebody here or be killed by someone here. Then this would be

something for us. This is a just…this is a just resistance, nothing else is.”63 Local

anger over the war in Vietnam and the persistence of racism on the home front

60 “Families Press Ex-Enron Exec for Rights to Historic Ranchland,” Rocky Mountain News (Denver) (Denver), March 29, 2004; See also Lorena Oropeza, Raza Sí, Guerra No!: Chicano Protest and Patriotism during the Viet Nam War Era (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2005), for a thorough treatment of the spectrum of attitudes harbored by young, male Mexican Americans regarding the Vietnam War. See especially pages 58- 79. See also Vigil, The Crusade for Justice, 27-28, 73-80, 123, and 157. Vigil examines his own anti-war activities, as well as those of other Colorado Chicano activists. 61 “Who is King of the Mountain?,” Denver Post Magazine, April 21, 1985. 62 Eugene Martinez, interview. 63 Ibid.

118

combined with the radical politics of the Chicano Movement in powerful ways.

Many of these disgruntled veterans funneled their anger into the land rights cause,

and would become some of the strongest leaders of that movement. Such individuals

undoubtedly saw Otero as a ready ally.

THE LAND RIGHTS COUNCIL’S MOVEMENT BEGINS

With the backing of the Catholic Church, which was working on the

grassroots level to address issues of injustice and inequality, Apolinar Rael, Shirley

Romero, Ray Otero, and Juan LaComb began constructing a cohesive grassroots

political movement. They would essentially be fashioning the movement out of raw

anger, disillusionment, and the community’s natural propensity toward resistance to

forces which sought to challenge its unique legal and spiritual relationship with its

natural landscape.

As the elder members of the core group of activists, Apolinar Rael and Juan

LaComb offered the wisdom and guidance of elders. The historical record indicates

that Rael played perhaps a more central role in the grassroots movement, but Juan

LaComb also provided a critical voice in the early years of the Land Rights Council.

In the beginning, he and LaComb defined the goals of the resistance. Interestingly,

the elders had faith that eventually the US justice system would prevail. They felt

confident because they had proof. They knew that documents on file in the Costilla

County Clerk’s office proved the legality of their rights. They could then prove that

those rights had been violated. Whereas other activists had completely lost faith in

119

any aspect of the U.S. government, Apolinar Rael and Juan LaComb held out hope in

the court system.

In 1974 and 1975, Rael led the revival of political activism in San Luis. He

was undoubtedly energized by the local parish priest’s receptive response to his pleas

for support for the community’s land rights issue, as well as by the growing political

ferment among the youth, led by Shirley Romero. The youth, in particular, had

embraced his message, and that likely boosted Rael’s own dedication to the issue.

Having begun organizing on the grassroots level—door-to-door and meeting with the

youth—Rael began appealing to state and national politicians for support. That year,

Rael engaged in a one-man letter-writing campaign. Most notably, he wrote to the

Colorado Governor, a U.S. Senator, and the President of the United States.64

Rael’s letters provide a written record of his political philosophy and of the

guiding spirit that would guide the movement after his death. More specifically, they

reveal a militancy that in many ways mirrored the confrontational politics of the

National Chicano Movement. Rael’s militancy, however, was not a product of that

national movement. Rather, it was central to his character and his approach to

injustice. Resistance in the face of injustice was an integral part of his identity and

one which he expressed throughout his life. One recalls the story of Rael openly

defying and then mocking the racist policy he and his children encountered in a La

Junta diner. That incident likely occurred in the 1940s, at a time when revolutionary

64 Rael had actually begun a letter campaign in 1968, with a letter to Colorado Governor John Love, informing him about the problems faced by the San Luis community, stemming from the mishandling of the Spanish and Mexican land grants, and asking for assistance from Love’s office. In 1968, the community was experiencing economic and population decline, resulting from Taylor’s legal victory in 1965. Grassroots resistance also ebbed during this time, as La Asociacíon disbanded and no organization had filled the void. See Apolinar Rael, San Pablo, CO, to Governor John Love, Denver, CO, January 1968, Personal Papers of Marianne L. Stoller.

120

identity politics were still in their incubation period. Rael’s militant approach to

racial and economic injustice allowed him to readily embrace the Chicano nationalist

politics of the younger generation—enabling the two groups to form a cross-

generational alliance. The letters serve as a historical record of that militancy. He

emerges through his letters of 1974-75 as a man of confidence and purpose—one who

is sure of the justice of his cause.

In 1974, Apolinar wrote to Senator “Field” in Washington, D.C. This letter

was emotionally charged and reflected Rael’s characteristic determination. He started

the letter with, “In the name of God I begin.” He then introduced himself as an

“eredero de la Merced de Sangre de Cristo...” [heir to the Sangre de Cristo land

grant]. Following a long personal history, Rael detailed the history of the land rights

struggle, dating back to the 19th century.65

“The only white people that is living among us is the one’s that has bought our pasture land our forest land where we use to gather wood for fuel and pasture our livestock. Everybody sold out their livestock on account of 4 [men] that bought part of the Sangre de Cristo Grant that is around us, land that was excempt [exempt] from tax for years.”66

He framed the land conflict in terms of a racial struggle in which wealthy

white men challenged the rights of the locals. By describing the outsiders as the

“only white men” in the community, he asserted a non-white identity. Rael’s

awareness of race and the role it had played in the community’s struggles was

surfacing through his prose. 65 Apolinar Rael to Senator Field, May 1974. After exhausting every possible congressional source and every research librarian at CU’s Norlin Library and Denver Public Library, I was not able to find a Senator Field who served either in the U.S. Congress or the State Legislatures of Colorado or New Mexico. The importance of the recipient is secondary to the ideas articulated in the letter and the obvious intent of Rael to make them public. 66 Apolinar Rael to Senator Field, May 1974. Rael’s spelling shows his phonetic approach to the English language. I have left many of his words intact, to show the just how he labored over the English language.

121

Rael expanded his critique of American hegemony when he criticized the

court system that left the people without their rights in 1965.

“We had two court trials, the court room did not listen to the people because we didn’t have money to buy the judge like other do. The judge that deside eginest [against] the people, he had to heart attacks and still he deside eginst us. Why my guess is he was bought out you know, and I know loyers and judges are starbing for money. There is no justice for the poor.” 67

The final sentence suggests that Rael has embraced an identity not only defined by

race, but also by class-consciousness. As a poor, non-white people, the San Luis

community was denied justice in the courts. Further, Jack Taylor was threatening

their traditional way of life with his careless practices.

“This man...is raising nothing but bairs and coyotes, one thing he don’t do is feed’m. He turn em loose to eat on what the poor people have left on sheep and cattle. Not only that, but in the summer time they come and eat on the people crops like corn and garden pea and that I can prove. Not only that, but he kill deer to feed his German police dogs that I seen.”68

In the above passage, Rael again identified his people as a “poor people” whose

subsistence lifestyle was threatened by Taylor’s actions. In closing, Rael reinforced

this class-consciousness. “The man that sold this land do not have one inch of land,

all he have is a sharp pen and he borrow the paper from the pooor people.”69

When Rael wrote to Colorado Governor Richard Lamm on December 4, 1975,

he went on the offensive, criticizing Lamm’s recent approach to the land conflict. At

the time, Governor Lamm was planning to send the FBI in to investigate the “land

war” in San Luis, following the incident in which Taylor was shot in the ankle. By

planning to do this, Governor Lamm seemed to be blaming the troubles on the local

people, and not on Jack Taylor. Rael warned Governor Lamm that before he started

67 Apolinar Rael to Senator Field, May 1974. 68 Ibid. 69 Ibid.

122

investigating the Mexican American people, he should look at the actions of Jack T.

Taylor. Taylor was selling permits to out-of-state hunters from Utah and Wyoming,

and it was these men who got into a “figh [fight] while they had their party at the

head quarter, and…they had the shuting (shooting)…” Rael went on. “Governor

Lamm, don’t through (throw) the blame on the people in Costilla County. Look for

the people that buy the permit for deer hunting time, thats where you should start.”

He then demanded answers, “I want for you to write me a letter and tell me why are

you so concern about the matter.”70

In an interesting twist, Rael defended the character of his people:

“Let me tell you, Mr. Lamm. There is no Mexican American people here. The people in Costilla County they are pure Spanish American who had defend this country in world war nomber 1, no. 2 and they always ready to defend America. Spanish American people have they heart on the right place, they don’t boughter (bother) anyone among the anglo merican, they are friendly people. I will say once in a great while they get mixt up in liquour goints, get into scrap, but no one get hert.”71

Once again, Rael alluded to an identity that separated his people from the Anglo

Americans. Only this time, he also distinguished them from Mexican Americans,

when it became clear that Lamm was targeting his investigation toward Mexican

Americans in the Valley. This suggests that Rael retained a degree of ambivalence

toward racial nomenclature, however, that does not discount the militant tone of his

rhetoric in demanding justice in return for a history of loyalty to the country. He did

however suggest that the Governor investigate Anglo Americans and German

Americans who were the real criminals on the grant lands. They were the ones who

70 Apolinar Rael, San Pablo, CO, to Governor Richard Lamm, Denver, CO, 4 December 1975, Personal Papers of Marianne L. Stoller; “Who’s King of the Mountain,” The Denver Post Empire Magazine, April 21, 1985. 71 Apolinar Rael to Governor Richard Lamm, 4 December 1975.

123

came in and “betrayed the [rights of locals on] the Sangre de Cristo grant.” The

“Spanish American people,” on the other hand, “respect the life of the other man,”

unlike “Taylor [who] don’t have a bit of respect even for himself much less for the

people.”72

A class-conscious and confident Rael closed his letter with an eerily poetic

line. “With this I will close expecting to hear from you. The dead men are not

speaking, but their wrong deed still remain in the heart of the poor people.”73 There

is no historical record of any response from Governor Lamm.

On March 26, 1974, Apolinar Rael took his message to a higher level, penning

a letter to President Richard Nixon, which asked the President for his support of the

local community’s efforts to regain their land rights. The rhetoric was similar to

Rael’s other letters, reflecting his increasingly self-conscious approach to the land

rights problem and echoing his demands for justice for the “Spanish American people

[who]...have furnished more soldiers than any other race to defend America at any

price.”74

In his letters, Rael described his community in increasingly self-conscious

terms, as he ventured into the terrain of identity politics.75 His letters represent the

first steps toward forming a collective identity of resistance shaped by ideas of race

and class. As a non-Anglo, poor people, the San Luis community would continue

resisting the legal and political injustice of the 1965 court ruling. Rael’s natural

72 Ibid. 73 Ibid. 74 “Request to President Nixon Went Unanswered,” Tierra y Libertad, Marzo 1980. 75 There is nothing in the historical record that suggests that La Asociacíon members ever articulated a clear racial or ethnic identity. Nor did they identify themselves as a group of poor people. Rael’s letters, then, surface as the first self-conscious expression of resistance in these terms.

124

militancy in the face of injustice, combined with his thorough knowledge of the land

grant history, led him to take the issue to the highest levels of political power.

By 1975, the three key leaders in the San Luis community had established

themselves as such.76 That year, Apolinar Rael, Shirley Romero, and Ray Otero took

their message directly to the people. Each made unique contributions to the

movement. Apolinar remained the voice of the elders—the “soul” of the movement,

the voice of wisdom. Ray Otero offered the organizing experience, key connections

to the National Chicano Movement and the American Indian Movement. Motivated

by his intense anger over the injustices done to the Chicano people—at home and in

Vietnam—he was able to pull the movement through its most difficult times. Shirley

Romero offered the voice and enthusiasm of the youth who had benefited from the

early accomplishments of the National Movement. She combined a fiery feminism

with ethnic identity politics that paved the way for other strong, educated women to

play crucial roles in the San Luis movement.

Before they could begin to organize on a grassroots level, the activists had to

agree on strategy. In the wake of Wounded Knee, and upon his arrival in San Luis,

Ray Otero was still trying to decide what kind of approach would work best. He

suggested a Wounded Knee-style takeover of the Taylor Ranch, which would clear

the way for local ranchers to start moving their cattle and sheep onto the mountain.77

Not everyone agreed.

76 While Juan LaComb did play an important role in the early years of the LRC, he is not one of the three main leaders whose voices and deeds are visible in the historical record. LaComb died nearly 10 years before Rael. 77 Ray Otero, public lecture, 30 March 2006; “The Battle of La Sierra: Locals hope the good ol’days of the ‘60s—the 1860s that is—are coming back to San Luis, Colorado,” In These Times, October 28, 2002.

125

The three leaders called a community meeting in order to devise a unified

strategy. In the meeting, the elders of the community—a group which included

Apolinar Rael and Juan LaComb—discouraged the violent options that Otero

presented. They believed that they could achieve justice without resorting to

violence. It was not so much that they believed violent resistance to be futile, but that

they had legal documents stating they had a right to the land. And, in the past,

lawyers had confirmed that their rights were valid. They believed the 1965 District

Court Ruling was produced by a racist court, and that if they hired competent

lawyers, they could present their case in court again and achieve different results.78

They essentially believed in the American legal system, and they believed that system

would vindicate them.

Although the elders were willing to put their faith in the American justice

system, they did not completely rule out armed resistance. If the courts ultimately

failed them, Apolinar Rael announced that he would be the first to pick up his rifle

and fight. If he was too old to walk with his rifle, he would crawl on his hands and

knees.79 When the meeting ended, all deferred to the elders. They were the ones who

knew the history, and they commanded the respect of the rest of the community,

particularly the young radicals. Many of the young activists—mostly Vietnam

Veterans—never gave up on the idea of armed resistance, however, the elders were

able to tone this group down and bring them into line with the rest of the

community.80

78 Ray Otero, public lecture, 30 March 2006. 79 Charlie Jaquez, interview. 80 Eugene Martinez, interview.

126

With a strategy in place, the next task was to create a sustainable civil rights

organization. To accomplish this, Rael, Romero, and Otero began employing tactics

used on the national level by other minority activists. On September 9, 1978, after

years of grassroots action, the three activists founded the Land Rights Council, and

from that point on, the LRC would be the community’s primary civil rights

organization—the voice of the land rights struggle.

The body of the LRC consisted of a Board of Directors, with the power to

decide on strategy and to hire and fire the legal and administrative staff within the

organization. Having agreed on a non-violent strategy involving the courts, LRC

leaders more specifically defined the methods they planned to use. Their strategy

would be focused around the issue of education. They researched land grants and

possible legal strategies to regain the community’s lost land rights—and would

“eventually go to court and/or take political action concerning the common lands of

the Sangre de Cristo Grant.”81 LRC activists went back time and again to this process

of conducting extensive research and educating themselves about the issues. Only

through empowering themselves through education could the Land Rights Council

succeed.

Once the LRC leaders had their plan in place, they set about creating a space

to call their own. They wanted a space where they could meet in safety to discuss

their organizing activities and to store their historical and legal documents. They

turned to the old Chama school building—a dilapidated adobe structure on the main

“street” in Chama. With the help of local residents, the LRC leaders renovated it and

81 La Merced, 8.

127

made it their own. They rented this building for the first few years of the LRC’s

existence.82

Next, activists had to take their message of education, empowerment, and

justice to the grassroots level. The activists employed numerous methods to educate

their community about the challenges which threatened their cultural survival.

Activists went to places where locals congregated for religious or social purposes,

such as the Church, the parish center, and the annual Santana Festival. They also

sponsored social gatherings, where people felt comfortable and could use the

opportunity to socialize and catch up with one another, while learning about the

issues and strategies involved in the land rights movement. By using such tactics, the

activists made the issues and the strategies less intimidating and more inviting to a

population that was hesitant to trust “radicals.” Such methods proved quite

successful. In time, a diverse group of locals joined the LRC. Vietnam veterans,

former county sheriffs, young people who had been exposed to Chicano nationalism,

and local ranchers joined the cause.

Activists used the community’s Catholic Church as a forum to educate the

community about the latest developments in the struggle. This proved effective, since

the majority of people in San Luis were Catholics who looked to the church for

guidance. Additionally, with presentations about the struggle being held in church,

the community members felt assured that the activists’ causes were justified.

The Land Rights Council activists employed three strategies when using the

Church as a vehicle for educating the community. First, the LRC activists educated

the parish priests about the legal and political issues at the center of the movement. 82 Ibid.

128

They worked hard to convince the priests of the urgency of the issues and the ways in

which the church could support the movement. Secondly, with the support of the

parish priest, activists assumed the pulpit, during Mass, to teach the congregation

about the issues they were fighting for. Both activists and their attorneys made

speeches from the altar, which convinced many parishioners of the importance of the

issues and the Church’s endorsement of those issues. Third, the parish priest often

spoke directly—from the altar—to the congregation about the land issues and the

need for the people to continue their resistance against the forces of injustice. This

likely proved the most successful of all three strategies. The personal endorsement

from the parish priest seemed to rally the community in a cause seen as both just and

necessary.83

The presence of the priest on the political scene was something new for the

community. Although Father Angelo’s political involvement would be

overshadowed by later priests in the community, he was the first to participate and

encourage the activists in their quest for justice. He was the first to put the Church’s

stamp of approval on a political movement which essentially challenged the

hegemonic society—something quite radical for the church at the time. Father

Angelo’s more public role in the movement came at a price, however. There was a

split in the community. Some people thought a priest had no business being involved

with such issues, while others wanted the priest more involved.84 Still others thought

that the Church owed the community both monetary and moral support, and they

spoke out for such action through revolutionary newspapers, such as the Communist

83 Jeff Goldstein, interview. 84 Father Angelo Urdiain, interview.

129

Party’s The Call.85 This division would lessen as time went on and as people

acquired a greater understanding of the issues. The parish priests also became

organizers, in a sense. During the earliest days of the LRC, the priest—at that time

Father Urdiain—encouraged the activists in their work.86 Although he did not preach

about the land rights issue directly from the pulpit, he did all he could to encourage

the activists in their political activities. However, following the founding of the LRC

and the announcement that it would pursue a legal strategy to win their rights back,

Father Bernardo Rotger, C.R., who had been priest in San Luis from 1943-49, wrote

an editorial in a local newspaper expressing his support for the cause and using his

moral authority in the community to encourage others to resist.

“Our rights cannot be resigned. The international laws give us all the reason. We would be cowards if we backed up. No, such cowardness [sic] cannot be tolerated. We have to fight with all legitimate measures so we can get rights to our roads. To do otherwise would obligate future generations to call us fools or stupid.”87

The local Catholic Church thus provided invaluable support to the activist

leaders in educating the community about their land rights movement. The LRC

activists were successful in using the Church as an organizing vehicle. They pushed

their parish priests to become activists themselves. As activists within the Church,

carrying the authority of their position as spiritual leaders of the community, the

parish priests effectively became political organizers as well. They essentially

modified their role as spiritual leaders of the community and used their resources to

spread a political message of resistance.

85 “Chicanos Fight for their Land,” The Call, published by the Communist Party, October 16, 1978. 86 Father Angelo Urdiain, interview; Shirley Romero-Otero, interview. 87 “Land to be Opened for Future Generations,” Tierra y Libertad, January 1979.

130

The Church would be just one forum that the activists used to educate the

public about their struggle. In the early days of the Land Rights Council, leaders

found that they had to bring the message to the people in ways that would not

intimidate them, but rather would empower them to take action. In taking their

message to the people, the LRC had to keep in mind the relatively conservative nature

of the San Luis community and its discomfort—especially among the elders—with

political “radicals.” Although the community had a long history of resisting outside

encroachment on their rights, most were uncomfortable with the radical nature of the

Chicano movement. Thus, the activists had to work according to certain codes of

conduct and cultural etiquette in order to be successful in the community and to reach

the maximum number of supporters.88

The Land Rights Council knew these unwritten “rules” and followed them as

closely as possible. LRC activists sponsored community barbeques with plenty of

food and beer to get the people to attend. Once they brought the locals into an

informal, social setting, the activists educated them about the land grant problem.89

Apolinar Rael used to bring a barrel of whiskey just to get people to the meetings.

Once they were there, Rael’s charismatic speech convinced them to stay.90 In a social

atmosphere, people felt comfortable expressing their opinions and sharing with others

their encounters with Jack Taylor and his ranch hands. Once people realized that they

were not the only ones experiencing harassment or frustration at being cut off from

88 Shirley Romero-Otero, interview; Charlie Jaquez, interview; Eugene Martinez, interview; David Martinez, interview; Robert Kino Green, interview. 89 Shirley Romero-Otero, interview. 90 Charlie Jaquez, interview.

131

the mountain, they began to see that the LRC was a credible organization with a

justifiable cause.91

Locals listened as LRC leaders talked about the history of the Sangre de

Cristo land grant, the 1863 Beaubien document that gave them the rights to use La

Sierra, and the organization’s plans to fight to regain their lost land rights and bring

about justice in the courts. A movement grew out of these early barbeques, as people

learned of their shared grievances and their shared desire to do something about the

problem of Taylor. In such informal settings, the LRC leaders could educate the

community about complex legal and political issues, which more formal settings

might have made too intimidating. Perhaps more importantly, the early LRC

barbeques brought people together in ways that brought them to a new understanding

of the role of individuals in the movement for social justice. One must keep in mind

that the local Catholic Church was doing the same thing—encouraging the people to

see the value of their individual relationship with God and the Church.

The mingling that occurred between generations also benefited the cause of

the Land Rights Council. With Apolinar Rael, Ray Otero, Shirley Romero, and often

Juan LaComb organizing events, the wisdom and knowledge of the elder generation

had combined with the idealism and energy of the younger generation in some

powerful ways. The presence of Rael and La Comb prevented the community elders

from dismissing the LRC as a bunch of young, reckless Chicano radicals. And, the

presence of Otero and Romero made the cause “hip” enough for the youth in the

community, some of whom had adopted the rhetoric of the National Chicano

movement, and who may have dismissed the elders as nostalgic and stuck in the past. 91 Eugene Lobato, interview.

132

Perhaps the most successful aspect of the LRC barbeques was the gender

make-up of the Land Rights leadership that hosted the gatherings. Women who

attended these barbeques felt liberated when they saw Shirley Romero giving

speeches, teaching them about their own Chicano history of oppression at the hands

of the white man, and urging other women to join the movement. She and other

female leaders, such as Glenda Maes and Maria Mondragon-Valdez, in particular,

shattered stereotypes that said a woman’s proper place was behind her man or in the

kitchen.92 In this case, women were up in front of the community, leading the

movement, right alongside the men. These women were smart, gutsy, loud, and

assertive. In these roles, Shirley and her peers were publicly defining the roles of

women in the San Luis community.

These women shared a unique relationship to La Sierra that was in some ways

different from the men’s, but every bit as powerful. It was during gatherings like this

that a few women in the community emerged as strong, dedicated, and at times

controversial leaders. One in particular, Agatha Medina, would become a powerful

symbol of the movement, as she was the first to sign on to a new lawsuit in 1980, in

an act of defiance toward traditional gender roles and attitudes.93 In meetings like

these women gained their voice and their sense of importance in the movement, and

men gained an acceptance of women in roles of leadership.

92 Maria Mondragon-Valdez, in particular, would become an integral part of the movement. As scholars and activists, Maria and her husband, Arnold Valdez, were key members of the LRC, since its founding. Maria’s outspoken nature and passionate activism led to her various speaking engagements and public interviews. With his talents as an architect and planner, Arnie served many valuable functions in the law suit. Maria refused a request for an interview for this dissertation. 93 Shirley Romero-Otero, interview. Agatha Medina’s story is presented in detail in the next chapter.

133

The LRC also used print media to inform and organize the community about

the issues at the heart of its resistance movement. The LRC published numerous

materials about its cause—targeting both local and outside audiences. In these early

publications, the Land Rights Council not only employed a tactic used by the national

civil rights movements—the use of media to reach a wide audience—but its leaders

also worked out their new group identity in a public forum. They were expressing a

distinctly Chicano identity. They did so through Chicano newspapers, the lifeblood

of the National Chicano Movement, as well as through more mainstream newspapers.

The new identity they asserted openly addressed issues of racism and injustices

committed by the United States government, as well as by the established Anglo

American hegemony.

In 1980, just a little over a year after its founding, the Land Rights Council

published a booklet called La Merced Sangre de Cristo: El Valle de San Luis [The

Sangre de Cristo Land Grant: San Luis Valley]. The name Merced—“gift” or “grant”

in English—revealed the purpose of the publication. The publication—essentially an

elaborate public mission statement of the newly formed LRC—served four functions.

First, it aimed to educate people about the “issues that…concerned many people in

Costilla County and throughout the Southwest...concerning the Sangre de Cristo

grant.”94

Second, it defined a collective identity for the people of San Luis. By

presenting a history of Spanish and Mexican land grants in the Southwest, from the

beginning of “[the Chicano people’s] Mestizo roots...11 years before the Pilgrims

landed at Plymouth Rock,” to the present, the LRC highlighted the Mestizo roots of 94 La Merced, 1.

134

the community. Doing so allowed it to downplay racial and class divisions in the

community, by placing its experiences within the rhetoric of the larger Chicano

Movement—which celebrated the Chicano people’s indigenous roots. In San Luis,

the name “Spanish American” had been used for so long, and a new generation of

activists—influenced by the Chicano movement—sought to look beyond that identity

and forge solidarity with indigenous peoples of America, who shared a history of

oppression. This move signals a desire to break with the past—one which sought to

downplay native roots in favor of a whiter, Spanish American past.95 Further, it

signaled the desire of the LRC to admit its people’s role as conquerors of Native

Americans, while also acknowledging its role as conquered. In presenting both sides

of the Chicano identity, the LRC acknowledged its complexity. La Merced

essentially served as a platform for the LRC to negotiate a complex history, in order

to situate itself and its struggle in the historical context of the region and of the San

Luis community.

Third, La Merced was a recruitment tool for the land rights struggle. It

encouraged all in Costilla County to get involved. “[I]f we are to be successful in our

attempts to regain those rights...all of the people of Costilla County who are heirs of

the land grant and who are interested in this issue [must] become actively involved in

95 La Merced, 9; For a discussion of Spanish American identity and the complexity of racial identity in the Southwest, see Charles Montgomery, The Spanish Redemption: Heritage, Power, and Loss on New Mexico’s Upper Rio Grande (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2002); Mitchell, Coyote Nation; John M. Nieto-Phillips, The Language of Blood: The Making of Spanish-American Identity in New Mexico, 1880s-1930s (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 2004); Andrés Reséndez, Changing National Identities at the Frontier: Texas and New Mexico, 1800-1850 (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2004).

135

this most important and humane issue.” And, finally, the booklet laid out the LRC’s

strategy of education and the courts.96

Newspapers proved to be another effective organizing tool. Through local

and non-local newspapers, the Land Rights Council plugged itself into a national

movement for social justice. While LRC activists shared their story with reporters

from mainstream regional and national media publications, such as The Los Angeles

Times, The New York Times, and The New Yorker, the most effective periodicals—in

terms of communicating the group’s message and gaining support—were those

published by the activists themselves.

Tierra y Libertad [“Land and Liberty”] was the first newspaper published in

1978 by the LRC. Using skills that he gained from working with Tijerina, Ray Otero

was its founder and first editor. Tierra y Libertad was published either bi-monthly or

monthly by the Land Rights Council, with the purpose to “inform the community

about the progress of the LRC, as well as other issues of concern of the Spanish-

speaking people in general.”97 Tierra y Libertad ran the first articles about the San

Luis land rights movement. In its inaugural issue, the paper introduced the land rights

struggle with an entire edition devoted to the cause. The paper also allowed the LRC

to establish itself as a Chicano organization, addressing the concerns and issues that

were affecting the Chicano community.

96 La Merced, 5, 9. The Land Rights Council published numerous other booklets and brochures, which stated its mission and strategy: “to re-establish traditional ‘usufructuary rights’ for local people to regain access to ‘La Sierra,’ a 77,524 acre parcel of private land, on the Sangre de Cristo Land Grant in Costilla County, Colorado” by seeking “legislation and judicial remedies for any land and water rights disputes,” through the research of “legal issues involving land grants, treaties, adverse possession property and water rights.” Thus, the organization had defined itself as one that sought to reform political and judicial institutions to recognize the historic communal land rights of the San Luis community. 97 La Merced, 7.

136

Shirley Romero, who at the time was president of the LRC, authored an

article, “Land Rights Council Seeks To Defend What is Ours.” The “[l]and is

everything, there is no hope for our people without land. We must stand firm in our

ways and beliefs in order to regain what the greedy White Man has stolen from

us…We are only defending what is ours.” She empowered her readers when she

informed them that the LRC “belong[ed] to the people” and that it would be up to the

people to make it work.98 In writing this open letter to the community, Shirley

defined the issues facing the community in the rhetoric of the larger Chicano fight for

justice. She defined the struggle as a dichotomy, pitting Chicano against the White

Man. She also emphasized the central role that land plays in the Chicano identity, an

idea that fit well with the idea of Aztlan as a Chicano homeland.

The first issue of Tierra y Libertad also provided articles that introduced

various aspects of the land rights problem to its readers. An extensive historical

timeline of the land struggle was followed by an article, “Without Land, We Have

Nothing,” which argued that the loss of land was the root of ALL Chicano problems,

even in urban areas. Such problems included police brutality, immigration officials,

grand jury abuse and poverty.99 The article also reinforced the belief that land

equaled power. Other articles introduced the international dimensions of the land

rights issue and the tactics of intimidation used by Taylor and his ranch hands to

prevent locals from exercising their legal rights.100

98 “Land Rights Council Seeks ‘To Defend What is Ours,’” Tierra y Libertad, January 1979. 99 “Without Land, We Have Nothing,” Tierra y Libertad, January 1979. 100 “Land Movement is International” and “Taylor Must be Stopped; Land is Communal Property,” Tierra y Libertad, January 1979.

137

Tierra y Libertad provided information about national and international issues

affecting Latino peoples around the world, such as events in Mexico, Puerto Rico,

and Cuba. These articles connected the San Luis struggle with international

struggles, alluding to the larger significance of the Land Rights Council’s movement.

Throughout its publication, Tierra y Libertad’s message remained consistent. “We

have to struggle and organize ourselves to make things better for our children.”101

Ya Basta!, also published by LRC founders Shirley Romero-Otero and Ray

Otero, presented issues facing Chicanos throughout the Southwest, while focusing

particular attention on the San Luis movement. “Ya Basta!” means “Enough!,” and

the name reflected the tone of the publication. The newspaper was a radical voice

advocating just treatment of Chicanos in education, the law, and politics. It was “an

independent Chicano publication published to inform the community of issues not

covered in the mainstream media.” As such, Ya Basta! sought to fill the void in the

mainstream media and give voice to the concerns and issues affecting the lives of

Chicanos in the Southwest.102

In order to reach a wider audience, LRC activists decided to go beyond

newspapers and take their educational message directly to outside audiences. They

used two tactics to accomplish this. First, they made a slide show, and later a couple

of documentary films, which told their story through interviews with activists, while

giving viewers a visual tour of the community. Second, in order to reach younger or

more activist audiences, LRC leaders visited college campuses and professional

organizations around the country, presenting their story in their own words.

101 “In my heart I have the land,” Tierra y Libertad, December 1980. 102 Ya Basta!, Mission statement, February 2001.

138

In 1979, LRC activists, along with Chicano activist journalists David Martinez

and Juan Espinosa and filmmaker Danny Salazar—under the name Producciones

Estrella Roja—created a slide show and later a documentary film “to educate

Chicanos everywhere to the importance of the land struggle.” The slide show,

“Tierra y Libertad,” was made available to Chicano studies classes and organizations.

The filmmakers eventually produced a film called La Tierra: Last Stand in Costilla

County, which explored the land issue through interviews with activists, as well as

through shots of the landscape, community marches, and celebrations. The scenes of

81-year-old Apolinar tending his sheep and discussing the changes he witnessed

throughout his life are particularly poignant.103 The LRC distributed the slide show

and film to schools and organizations throughout the Southwest.104

In the spring of 1979, a group of LRC activists took their message on the road.

They traveled to Denver to present their story in a panel session at the National

MECHA Conference at Metropolitan State College. The MECHA conference

brought together Chicano student activists from all over the nation. An entire panel

session was dedicated to the Land Struggle in San Luis.105 That same spring, they

traveled to California to colleges and professional organizations in California.

Eugene Martinez and two other LRC members traveled to Loyola University,

University of California at Riverside, and to Los Angeles, where they spoke to a

regional chapter of the National Lawyers Guild. In doing so, they sought support

103 “Slide Film Documents Land Struggle,” Tierra y Libertad, March 15, 1979, 5.; David Martinez, interview; Juan Espinosa interview by author, Pueblo, CO, 13 May 2005, tape recording, personal files of author; Slide Show Documents Land Struggle,” Tierra y Libertad, March 15, 1979; “La Tierra: Last Stand in Costilla County,” Red Star Productions, video recording, 1980. 104 La Merced, 7. 105 “National Mecha Meeting, at Metro State in Denver Will Feature session on Land Struggle,” Tierra y Libertad, March 15, 1979.

139

from one of the most influential legal organizations in the nation. The early efforts to

get the story out were fast and furious and did much to educate the public about an

“obscure” little Hispano village in Southern Colorado. Activists were shocked when

they spoke to audiences in California—even audiences which included Chicanos—

who had no idea that Hispanics owned land in Southern Colorado and Northern New

Mexico.106

Print media, film, and public lectures served the LRC well. In just a couple of

years, the organization had spread its message throughout the Southwest. Once it had

established a communication network and a clear resistance strategy, the LRC began

to reach out to other racially-marginalized groups who shared the same history of

oppression at the hands of American hegemonic society.

“WE ARE THE SAME PEOPLE”: THE RISE OF COALITIONAL POLITICS

By reaching out to other Chicano organizations, as well as other racial groups,

the LRC strengthened itself by drawing upon the networks and resources of other

civil rights movements. The first allies that Otero, Rael and Romero turned to were

those within the National Chicano Movement. While the LRC had been employing

tactics used by the National Movement, it had yet to engage in an active dialogue

with activists on the national scene. Its first attempt to do so occurred at its National

Land Campout Conference in 1979.

The LRC’s first land conference was “[t]he first time gente (people) from

throughout Aztlan [came] together in Colorado to discuss Chicano land rights and

106 Gene Martinez, interview; “Slide Film Documents Land Struggle” Tierra y Libertad, March 15, 1979; “Struggle for Land Unites All Chicanos,” Tierra y Libertad, May 1, 1979.

140

work to develop solutions.” Ray Otero, who had been hesitant to give up a more

revolutionary approach to the land issue and only reluctantly deferred to the elders

and the lawsuit, tapped into his large network of activists, inviting Chicanos and their

supporters from throughout the Southwest. He knew that given the political climate

of the day—a climate in which social activism was still strong—that doing so would

strengthen the LRC’s movement. Although the LRC would not advocate an armed

raid of the mountain, it began building coalitions with militant civil rights individuals

and groups who would provide the movement with the radical leaning that young

activists like Otero, Romero, Espinoza and Martinez thought best articulated their

position. In 1979, Otero expressed this strategy publicly. “The land issue is not

limited to the courts. We are seeking support from groups across the nation who

support the land struggle…we can’t depend on a fair hearing from the courts or for

justice.”107

At the 1979 conference, national and regional Chicano leaders spoke about the

importance of unity among Chicanos. Denver activist Marcos Martinez, head of the

Colorado Comite Against Repression, spoke of the need to close the gulf between

rural and urban Chicanos and to foster an atmosphere of solidarity. “What happens in

Chama happens around the rest of the country. A victory for Chama is a victory for

the world.” Other national Chicano leaders would echo this message that only

through a unified effort could Chicanos claim what was stolen from them.108

Long after the conference ended, the LRC activists continued to cultivate a

pan-Chicano strategy. High-profile national Chicano leaders like Francisco “Kiko”

107 “Land Rights Council Prepares Land Lawsuit,” La Cucaracha, May 8, 1979. 108 “’Liberation’ at the heart of Chama Land Conference,” La Cucaracha, 1 August 1979.

141

Martinez became a strong presence in the community, serving as a reminder of the

larger importance of the local movement. Martinez, a native of the Valley, lent his

public support to the LRC’s efforts, while at the same time, LRC activists threw their

support to him. Even when Martinez was accused of planting a bomb and had fled to

Cuba until his hearing, San Luis activists continued to pay public homage to him,

essentially making him a symbol of resistance. Ray Otero often invoked the

contributions of Martinez, as well as those who had given their life for the movement.

“We have to remember examples like Kiko Martinez and Los Seis de Boulder and

why they have died or left us.”109

In one of his many local appearances, following his acquittal in 1980, Kiko

Martinez continued to remind the locals of San Luis that “[w]e have to struggle and

organize ourselves to make things better for our children. The person who struggles

out of necessity is more dangerous, because for him, struggle is more basic...When

the people struggle out of necessity, they will win.”110 Through his support for the

LRC, Martinez provided the community with a valuable link to the most vocal and

militant elements of the national Chicano movement. This provided locals in San

Luis with a greater source of strength to draw upon and a greater sense of purpose.

In addition to courting individuals from the National Chicano Movement,

LRC activists also pursued coalitions with other ethnic and racial groups that shared

their experiences as subaltern groups in America. Forming such alliances not only

provided morale and resources, but also gave the LRC’s movement additional

visibility and credibility. The American Indian Movement would be one of the most

109 Ibid. Reyes Martinez, one of Los Seis de Boulder was the brother of Kiko Martinez and the best friend of Ray Otero. 110 “In my heart I have the land,” Tierra y Libertad, December 1980.

142

visible groups in this network, and its alliance with the LRC lasted into the 21st

century.

Such an alliance, however, was complicated by the history of interactions

between Indian and Spanish/Mexican peoples. San Luis activists had to establish a

justification for such an alliance, which involved finding common ground between

the two groups and overcoming a history of conquest and conflict.

Interactions between the two groups began as soon as the Mexican settlers

arrived in the area. In the early stages, there was fear and distrust. Adobe

fortifications protected the Hispanic settlers from surprise Indian raids. There are

numerous stories from the early days about young Hispanic children being kidnapped

by natives, as well as captive Navajo and Apache children being taken into Hispanic

homes, perhaps as domestic servants.111

Despite these early turbulent relations, a common bond emerged, as expressed

by members of both La Asociacion de los Derechos Civicos and the Land Rights

Council. They spoke of affinities between their struggles and those of the Native

peoples. They also expressed affection between their people and the native peoples,

and this affection provided the foundation for a relationship between the two groups.

A Lobato family story from around the 1860s illustrates the evolution of these

relations through the bridging of cultural gaps.

“I remember my dad telling me stories about when they would be up in the corral [on la Sierra]. The Spanish people would be up there taking care of the sheep and cows, branding them and everything else, and the Indians would look at them and they would make fun of them…They were used to a different culture…if they wanted an animal they would go and hunt it and the Spanish people had their

111 Eugene Martinez, interview; Gloria Maestas, interview; “Stories from Costilla County,” Volume 349, Document 20, MF 135, CWA Papers, Civil Works Administration, University of Colorado at Boulder.

143

domestic animals that they would take care of and they used to make fun of them. But later on…they would come over here because they would build their houses and the Spanish would go see their houses and then the Indians were making their tepees outside where it was cold and they would say come in and by night they would be hungry and everything else and the Spanish people they would take them in, sooner or later they were intermarried…”112

Similar stories abound in the community—stories about the gradual trust that

emerged between the two peoples.113 Eugene Martinez recalls his grandfather telling

him about playing with Apache children, when he was a young boy. They played

together in the hills near San Francisco, in an area on La Sierra known as “la casa de

los Apaches,” where the Apache people made their winter quarters.114 Such stories

illustrated the community’s desire to overcome their own history as conquerors in a

region shaped by subsequent conquests, in order to form solidarity with American

Indians, with whom they shared a history of oppression.

This desire to highlight their common history of oppression, led some activists

to identify with the plight of reservation Indians.115 Activist Bob Green drew explicit

parallels to the between the San Luis community and an Indian reservation.

“You have very much the same dynamics on a reservation...[a] disempowered population...[and] two or three sharp families that figured out, generations ago, how to deal with the political system...[and have] traditionally...had the reins on how things are going to go…you have county commissioners who draw their representation from this established power block, so they’re like the tribal government. And then you have your traditional leaders. For example, when they were having the demonstrations to stop the logging, the commissioners were never up there, but these little old men who’ve been farming here for 50 years, they were up there. So those are your more traditional leaders…”116

112 Eugene Lobato, interview. 113 Gloria Rael Maestas, interview. 114 Eugene Martinez, interview. “La Casa de los Apaches” is one of many historical and cultural “places” of significance on La Sierra. In 2007, there is a renewed local interest in these places and locals are working together to map out these places and reclaim their history. 115 Eugene Martinez, interview; Glenda Maes, interview; Eugene Lobato, interview. 116 Robert Kino Green, interview.

144

Following the founding of the LRC in 1978, Otero, Romero, and Rael reached

out to the American Indian Movement (AIM). Years earlier, in the 1973 siege at

Wounded Knee, San Luis activist, Rocky Madrid, was wounded in the skirmish

between Indian activists and their supporters and Federal agents.117 This shedding of

San Luis blood informally sealed a bond of solidarity between the two groups. The

San Luis community also hid Lakota Indians who were targeted by the federal

government for their activism at Wounded Knee.118

The alliance between Chicano and Indian took many forms. Most visibly, the

AIM activists from the Black Hills and Black Mountain participated in an early

protest march in the streets of San Luis.119 The Native Americans invited LRC

activists to partake in sweat lodges and ceremonies on the outskirts of the community.

In doing this, locals reclaimed and celebrated their own native roots.120 There was

real political power in identifying with the group most associated with having their

lands taken from them.

In 1979, at National Chama Land Conference, LRC members engaged in

highly symbolic rituals, which further sealed the alliance between the two groups.

Conference participants also listened as leaders from both groups described the

natural alliance between Chicano and Indian. Apolinar Rael opened the conference by

welcoming the “Native Americans, who are our closest people.” He emphasized the

shared ideology of both groups.

117 Shirley Romero-Otero, interview. A genial man, Rocky Madrid served in Vietnam during the 1960s, and upon his return, he engaged in political resistance. Some say that Rocky was never the same upon his return. I have seen him often during my visits to town—usually walking barefoot along the main street. His acts of resistance will be discussed in chapter 5. 118 Juan Espinosa, interview; Shirley Romero-Otero, interview. 119 Glenda Maes, interview. 120 Juan Espinosa, interview; Charlie Jaquez, interview.

145

“We are the same people. We give thanks because God has permitted us to live and love the land. We are all in the same boat in the teaching of our young because the development of our young is the greatest happiness that we have to offer.”121

California activist Po Pe Xolotl spoke on the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, pointing

to the history of broken treaties that defined the history of both groups.122

Lakota activist, Frank Black Elk, further commented on the unity between

Native Americans and Chicanos.

“Through education the Gringo has isolated us…We [the indigenous people] are not your enemy. I want you to understand that we respect Mother Earth…We came from the ground and we rose to the surface, we had to learn from all living things…that’s why we hold Mother Earth so sacred and that’s why we can identify with the Chicanos and talk about treaties.”123

He stressed a shared ideology—a shared way of life—that made the two peoples

natural allies and defenders of that communal, earth-centered culture.

After a day of speeches and informational sessions, conference participants

engaged in a Sacred Pipe Ceremony, following a six-mile walk from the LRC offices

to the foot of La Sierra. Over 250 men, women, and children walked together. Four

men, symbolic warriors, ran ahead, carrying the Sacred Pipe. When the marchers

reached the base of La Sierra, they joined hands in a circle, symbolizing the Sacred

Hoop. After smoking the sacred pipe,

“the Indios prayed for unity among the Mestizo brothers and the indigenous peoples, and that the land would once again be returned to them so that [they] may care for Mother Earth. The ceremony ended after the participants shook hands and everyone in the circle sang ‘Yo Soy Chicano’ and a traditional Native American song.”124

121 “Chama Conference Draws Many Participants,” Tierra y Libertad, July 1979. 122 Ibid. 123 Ibid. 124 Ibid.

146

Following the singing, a few elders butchered a sheep, instructing the children how

all edible parts of a lamb should be cleansed and salvaged in the traditional

manner.125 The highly symbolic expressions of unity between the two peoples further

sealed an alliance that would serve the San Luis community well, during its decades-

long struggle to regain its land rights. The alliance with Indians—based on a shared

history as “the same people” also provided the LRC with moral authority in their

quest to win back their land rights—as the legal and environmentally-legitimate

stewards of La Sierra. Although the outward expressions of that alliance would never

be as strong as at the 1979 conference, the sense of common cause remained

throughout the movement.

LRC activists also sought other coalitions, beyond the Native American

community—looking to other minority-groups engaged in civil rights movements.

Though the extent of the coalitions varied, due to various circumstances and logistical

issues, the LRC pursued alliances with the Black Panther Party, the Puerto Rican

Nationalist movement, Japanese American activists, and the Socialist and Communist

Parties of America. These coalitions served an important role in the LRC’s

organizing strategy, as they strengthened the solidarity between these groups with a

shared history of racial oppression.

The LRC saw the advantages of allying themselves with black nationalists,

who in turn saw value in defending a traditional culture based on communal

principles. They shared a history of marginalization. “Just not too long ago they

were killing black people…and those that tried to help them. And all they needed

125 “’Instant Pueblo’ Arises from Land Conference,” La Cucaracha, 1 August 1979.

147

was equality. All they wanted was to be equal.”126 Both groups desired social,

economic, and legal equality. Their shared ideology and their rejection of

individualistic Anglo American culture would unite them in an expression of

solidarity.127

San Luis activists also looked to their Puerto Rican brothers and sisters for

solidarity in their land struggle. Local activists compared the Puerto Rican struggle

over control of the Island of Vieques to their efforts in the San Luis Valley. LRC

leaders claimed to be fighting “the same enemy” as the Puerto Ricans were fighting.

For the Chicanos of el Valle, the enemy was Taylor, who was allied with the United

States Court System. For the Puerto Ricans, the enemy was the United States Navy

on the island of Vieques. La Cucaracha provided extensive coverage of the Puerto

Rican struggle, suggesting a strong support between not only the San Luis activists,

but between the National Chicano Movement and the Puerto Rican Movement.128

Both groups were waging a struggle against the discriminatory policies of the U.S.

government. In their common struggle for control over part of their homeland, each

group saw the other as a valuable ally.

126 Eugene Martinez, interview; Shirley Romero-Otero, interview; Charlie Jaquez, interview. 127 While my sources reveal a mutual support between a group of black nationalists and the LRC, they do not reveal the specific interactions between the groups. Shirley Romero-Otero and Charlie Jaquez mentioned the solidarity that linked both groups, however, neither furnished specific details about interactions between them. These interactions are likely in the complete set of LRC records, which I have not had access to. The mention of an alliance was too important to ignore, as it suggests that the LRC actively pursued a policy of coalition building with militant civil rights groups. See George Mariscal, Brown-Eyed Children of the Sun: Lessons from the Chicano Movement, 1965-1975 (Albuquerque: New Mexico, 2005), 171-209. Mariscal offers an analysis of the attempts by both black and Chicano activists—especially those by Reies Tijerina in the late 1960s—to forge Chicano-African American coalitions during the late 1960s and 1970s. Such coalitional efforts were extremely complex, causing a great deal of controversy in both communities. 128 “Land Struggles Similar,” La Cucaracha, 18 December 1979; “Land Movement is International,” Tierra y Libertad, January 1979. The relationship between the two movements needs further examination.

148

San Luis activists would also compare their struggle to the Puerto Rican

Nationalist struggle.129 When drawing parallels between their two movements, land

loss was again at the center. Local activists emphasized their commonalities as

peoples without land. “If you are a people without land, you really do not have

anything, you are poor, because from the land comes the ability to act like you want,

the ability to think like you want and the ability to be secure.”130 With this alliance,

the locals expressed their position as an occupied, colonial people within a rich

nation. Only with their own land could the San Luis community and the Puerto

Rican community gain equal citizenship in the dominant society.

The members of the Land Rights Council also identified with Japanese

Americans, whose families had lost land and property during the World War II

internment camps. Japanese American activist Marge Tanawaka regularly attended

San Luis community events and celebrations. When asked to address the community,

she spoke about her experiences in the Amache Internment Camp during WWII.

Although she was only a young child, the memory of the experience politicized her,

and she continued to support civil rights causes among all oppressed peoples.131

Finally, LRC activists expressed a symbolic coalition with the Palestinian

people. There was a strong local identification with the Palestinian struggle against

the Israelis. Both were a dark-skinned people whose land was taken away unjustly,

and both were engaged in a counter-hegemonic struggle to regain their historic

lands.132 Adopting the Palestinians as symbolic allies proved politically powerful on

129 Shirley Romero-Otero, interview; Glenda Maes, interview. 130 “Land Movement is International,” Tierra y Libertad, January 1979. 131 LRC Land Grant Conference, San Luis, Colorado, April 2001, personal observations of author. 132 Shirley Romero-Otero, interview.

149

two levels. First, San Luis activists argued that they did indeed have valid historic

claims to a contested landscape—a sacred homeland—which sustained and shaped

their way of life, just as the Palestinians did. And, secondly, local activists were

speaking out not only against the American courts, in regard to their own struggle, but

they also used the opportunity to criticize American foreign policy and their support

for Israeli occupation of contested lands. This alliance—though more rhetorical than

physical—was a bold statement, especially given the Jewish lawyers working for

them. Speaking openly of a symbolic coalition with the landless Palestinians gave the

local movement an international relevance.

These alliances—whether active or symbolic—collectively suggest that the

Land Rights Council saw its struggle in terms of a larger revolutionary struggle

against white hegemony—on a global scale. This view provided activists with a

larger sense of purpose and indeed responsibility to resist. Such alliances also

provided them with solidarity and strength which would help them persist during the

most difficult times. At the same time, their alliances also reflected their sense of the

radical nature of their resistance. By merely filing the lawsuit and challenging the

American notion of private property rights, the LRC was engaging in a revolutionary

act, and by identifying with other radical causes, it was indeed celebrating that

radicalism.

In the late 70s and 80s, the San Luis community also dabbled in coalition-

building with alternative political parties—the Socialist Party of America (SP) and

the Communist Workers Party of America. (CWP) Officials from both parties

marched in one of the local parades, while graffiti on buildings in town read “CWP

150

People Unite.”133 The CWP also supported the LRC by publicizing its struggle in its

national newspaper, The Call. In doing so, the CWP provided the LRC with a ready

audience. In a story titled “Chicanos Fight for their Land,” LRC activists told their

story—in their own words. The article detailed the history of the Sangre de Cristo

grant, the broken 1848 Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, and the communal culture that

had emerged in San Luis. The article described Taylor’s “disdain for Chicanos” and

highlighted the people’s long history of militant resistance. It placed the San Luis

resistance in the context of the larger Chicano movement, comparing the situation

with that of Reies Tijerina. It also placed the struggle in a larger context, as the

newspaper’s headline read, “People of the World Unite to Defeat Imperialism.”134

The article also criticized the courts and American capitalism, placing Taylor

with many others “who have benefited from the services of the courts” and arguing

that “on paper, U.S. law says that international treaties supersede the Constitution, but

when these practices interfere with capitalists’ quest for profits, they are shoved

aside.” The paper highlighted the “people of Chama...[who] have been gaining

strength and nationwide support for their struggle and have formed the LRC to

mobilize more effectively…hiring legal aid….[and getting a grant for] $56,000 from

the Catholic Church.”135

Only a few local activists entertained coalition-building with these groups,

and my sources give only limited information on the contact between the SP, CWP,

and the LRC. Yet, the coalition, however limited, illustrates the revolutionary

133 Charlie Jaquez, interview. 134 “Chicanos Fight for their Land,” The Call, October 16, 1978. 135 Ibid. This class-consciousness was also expressed through Apolinar Rael’s letter-writing campaign, the activists’ public speeches, and the LRC’s own publications.

151

consciousness that pervaded the early movement. It also points to the class-

consciousness of the LRC activists, who saw their oppression as both racial and

economic. Bringing such allies into the movement, even for the short time they did,

suggested that at the root of the struggle lay issues of class inequality, as well as

racial inequities.136 Any failure between the LRC and the SP and CWP can likely be

traced to the fact that in a time of Cold War, such alliances were seen as too un-

American and thus too politically risky. While the politics of the racial nationalism

fit the LRC agenda, the group’s leaders were savvy enough to see the danger in

allying with polarizing groups like the SP and the CWP.

CONCLUSION

By the time they founded the Land Rights Council, the San Luis activists had

achieved a level of political maturity. Politically-savvy activists, like Ray Otero,

Apolinar Rael, and Shirley Otero, brought their talents and their passions together at a

time when the San Luis land rights movement lay dormant. The legal defeat of 1965

shattered the hopes of many of the activists who had organized La Asociacíon de los

civicos derechos in the early 1960s, while the economic fallout from the ruling

devastated the local ranching economy and forced many San Luis families to leave

for urban centers on the Front Range. As a result, the political activism in the

community stagnated.

Into this political vacuum moved Otero, Romero, and Rael, each having

undergone his or her own process of politicization. These dynamic individuals

136 This rising class-consciousness was also reflected in Apolinar Rael’s letter-writing campaign in 1974 and 1975, as discussed earlier in this chapter.

152

converged at a time when dazzling changes were occurring on the national level.

Changes arising from criticisms over America’s involvement in Vietnam, a renewed

militancy in the National Chicano and American Indian Movements, Vatican II in the

Catholic Church and the effects of “War on Poverty” programs shaped the political

atmosphere into which Otero, Romero, and Rael emerged. The activists seized upon

the opportunities presented by these changes and fashioned a movement which

harnessed the revolutionary energy of the community and gave it a renewed focus.

The fruit of their efforts, the Land Rights Council of San Luis, emerged in 1978 as the

collective voice for those residents who wanted to rectify the injustice of 1965 and

win back their community’s rights to La Sierra.

While the lawsuit served as their primary tool of resistance, the LRC also

employed grassroots tactics, such as conferences, public meetings, media outlets, and

cross-racial coalition-building. These strategies proved effective in shaping a

political movement, bringing more and more local and national people into their

struggle. With the grassroots movement in motion, the next step for the LRC would

be to find supporters to present their claims to the court.

153

CHAPTER 4

“I CAN FIGHT THIS FOREVER”: RAEL V. TAYLOR AND THE LRC’S

LEGAL BATTLE FOR LA SIERRA, 1980-1992

On January 21, 1979, the Land Rights Council brought Grand Junction lawyer

Jerry Otero to San Luis. He spoke to the Council about how to wage a successful

social justice movement. He told the group that “education, involvement, and

patience” were necessary because the courts move so slowly. Otero also warned

audience members not to “limit [themselves] to the courts” because the United States

is “very unjust.”1 At the time of Jerry Otero’s presentation, the LRC was in its

infancy and was still struggling to find a solid identity and a clear strategy. The

group had begun to entertain the idea of pursuing justice through the courts. Elders

such as Apolinar Rael and Juan LaComb claimed they had historic legal documents

that validated their land rights, and eventually the two elders would convince the

other LRC members to pursue a legal strategy to reclaim their land rights.

The period from 1980-1992 was critical for the LRC’s movement. During

this phase, the LRC underwent a process of political maturation, defining itself as an

organization that a decade later could claim legitimacy as the political voice of the

community. The organization claimed supporters from a variety of backgrounds.

Church leaders had expressed their support, and the Church’s Campaign for Human

Development was the LRC’s primary funder. Locally, Vietnam veterans, youth, and

elders joined together in solidarity against the injustice of Taylor. The LRC had also

1 “Announcement,” La Cucaracha, February 1, 1979; “1979—Important Events in the Land Rights Struggle,” Tierra y Libertad, January 1980.

154

drawn support from ordinary folk who did not have a history of political activism, but

who felt they had been robbed of their rights. The LRC boasted support from

Chicano journalists, American Indian activists, The National La Raza Lawyers

Association, the Hispanic Forum, and the Colorado Hispanic American Democrats,

along with various other state politicians and activists from civil rights groups.2

During this period, the LRC acted upon critical decisions and strategies made

earlier. Embracing a legal strategy of resistance, the group continued their strategy of

coalition-building. Leaders brought aboard attorneys who supported their mission

and worked with locals as equals, not looking down upon them. While their

movement remained nationalistic and continued to espouse a racialized identity

rooted in Chicano Movement rhetoric, LRC leaders ultimately rejected a

revolutionary strategy in favor of using the courts as their tool of political resistance.

It is important to note that even the elders “kept open” the possibility of revolutionary

protest, should the courts prove fruitless. At the National Chicano Land Conference

in the summer of 1979, the LRC announced that “[t]he future will document...[that at]

this conferencia...la gente del Valle...established openly that la gente is preparing to

develop whatever strategies necessary to get the land back.” And, “[t]he use of armed

struggle was posed as a possible future tactic once the established remedies are

exhausted.”3 In the meantime, however, the LRC would pour its efforts into its legal

strategy.

In 1980, the Land Rights Council formed a political coalition with Jeff

Goldstein, making him a partner in its struggle to regain historic land rights. This

2 La Merced, 7. 3 “National Chicano Land Conference,” Tierra y Libertad, July 1979.

155

process of coalition building was in line with the LRC’s earlier strategy of making

alliances, but this one was different because it moved beyond the LRC’s earlier

coalitional strategy which had limited itself to allying with groups based on shared

racial or class oppression. More specifically, LRC leaders realized that the political

landscape had changed and that the time for productive racial protest had for the most

part passed. In a more politically conservative atmosphere, the LRC needed to move

beyond their predominantly racial approach, which included large scale racial

protests, radical revolutionary rhetoric, and alliances exclusively with groups who

shared their history of oppression and their radical approach to politics. Leaders

believed that such an approach would eventually die out. Rather than take a

revolutionary approach, they would work within the system, in order to challenge and

ultimately change it. All grassroots organizing would support the legal struggle.

While they never relinquished their Chicano identity, still speaking in terms of Aztlan

and denouncing the Gringo for his history of injustice toward the Chicano and Native

peoples, they expanded their coalitional approach to include non-minorities. Such

alliances offered them support in ways that allowed the LRC to navigate their

movement through difficult political waters and challenging economic times.

The alliance with Goldstein was arguably the most dynamic and the most

complex of all of the LRC’s alliances. It would last 22 years and although it was often

complicated by cross-cultural and cross-class misunderstandings, in the end, both

parties’ commitment to justice pulled them through to victory. Goldstein’s story—his

rise to political activism in the 1960s—in many ways paralleled the process of

politicization that many young Chicano activists underwent in the same period. The

156

coming together of these two forces created a sustainable social and legal justice

movement. The formation of this particular partnership signaled the LRC’s first steps

toward developing a sustainable political movement that could weather various

political challenges. Before the LRC found Goldstein, the group decided its legal

fate best lay in the hands of a Chicano attorney.

THE LRC’s SEARCH FOR A LEGAL ALLY

In March 1979, the LRC hired its first attorney.4 A recent law school graduate

and native of Pueblo, Colorado, twenty-six year-old Jess Vigil brought his idealism

and his commitment to justice to the San Luis community. A young Chicano lawyer

seemed the natural fit for a Chicano rights case. By July of 1979, Vigil and the LRC

leaders were working well together to fashion their case. They were making public

requests, through Chicano newspapers, for documents, letters, or any other

information that could support the community’s legal claims to their historic land

rights.5 The elders of the community had talked for years about a set of historical

documents that would prove their claims.6 By September of that year, Vigil and the

LRC began to realize that the scope of the case was much larger than they had

thought. They were advertising in regional Chicano newspapers for bilingual

attorneys to “aid with legal research and pursue litigation.”7 The legal case—with its

historical and legal complexity—proved too complicated for one attorney, especially

for one with so little experience. Both Vigil and the LRC decided to consult lawyers

4 “1979—Important Events in the Land Struggle,” Tierra y Libertad, January 1980; “Land Rights Council Appoints Legal Coordinator,” La Cucaracha, April 1, 1979. 5 “LRC seeks Legal information,” La Cucaracha, July 1, 1979. 6 Jeff Goldstein, interview. 7 “Lawyers Needed,” La Cucaracha, September 25, 1979.

157

who had more experience, and who also had a passion for justice.8 Support began to

pour in, following those regional requests. In a public statement, the La Raza

National Bar Association formally endorsed the efforts of the Land Rights Council.

This vote of confidence from a national organization legitimized the struggle.9 Now,

the organization just needed to find experienced and willing attorneys to assist with

their case.

Earlier in 1979, Ray Otero and Shirley Romero-Otero had secured a grant of

$66,000 from the Catholic Church’s Campaign for Human Development. The CHD

defined itself as the “poverty/social change component of the National Catholic

Church.” The grant was the second major grant that the CHD had provided the LRC.

In fact, it was $11,000 more than the previous grant, which they received in 1978.

The activists saw this as a validation from the Church and a means to hire “more

attorneys and supportive staff.”10

With the financial backing of the Church, Otero mined his activist networks

for information on socially-conscious lawyers, who might be willing to take on the

LRC’s agenda. Otero went to his friend, a man known to most as “Shorty,” whose

girlfriend, Madeleine Navarro, was a well-known Chicana activist in Denver.

Navarro had met three Denver attorneys through her political activism and through

Shorty’s “not-so-political” legal issues. These attorneys had taken on several

Chicano legal cases in Denver—representing Chicanos with legal issues ranging from

immigration to police brutality. These attorneys had also assisted a group of

American Indian Movement protestors at Wounded Knee. She introduced Otero first

8 Jeff Goldstein, interview. 9 “Latino Lawyers Endorse Land Struggle,” La Cucaracha, November 6, 1979. 10 “LRC to receive $66 thousand from Campaign,” Tierra y Libertad, September 1979.

158

to Sandy Karp, who later introduced Otero to his law partners, Jeff Goldstein and Ken

Stern.11 This meeting between political activist and activist lawyers would prove to

be fateful for both Otero and Goldstein. It would redirect the course of their lives and

of the lives of the people of San Luis.

Jeff Goldstein and his legal partners came-of-age during the mid- to late-

1960s and underwent a process of politicization that in many ways mirrored that of

the young Chicanos in San Luis. While Apolinar Rael, Ray Otero, Shirley Romero-

Otero, and others were mobilizing the San Luis community toward action, a group of

young attorneys was graduating from law school and entering the legal profession.

Through their training and early experiences, they came to view the law as a tool to

achieve justice. They were participants in a political movement that was changing

how Americans thought about equality and about the government’s role in ensuring

equality. When President Lyndon Johnson declared his “unconditional war on

poverty in America,” on January 8, 1964, he invited all Americans to participate.12

A group of lawyers responded to this invitation and became foot soldiers in a

revolution that would reform the nation’s legal system, based on a principle of equal

access to justice. That revolution took place under the larger umbrella of the Office

of Economic Opportunity (OEO), which had been created when Congress passed the

Economic Opportunity Act, in 1964. Johnson put Sargent Shriver, who at the time

headed up the Peace Corps program, in charge of the newly created OEO. 13 The

OEO housed three major anti-poverty programs—VISTA (Volunteers in Service of

11 Jeff Goldstein, interview. 12 Scott Stossel, Sarge: The Life and Times of Sargent Shriver (Smithsonian Books, Washington D.C.: 2004), 333. 13 Allen Matusow, The Unraveling of America: A History of Liberalism in the 1960s. (New York: Harper and Row Publishers, 1984), 243.

159

America), Job Corps, and Community Action.14 Community Action, or Community

Action Program (CAP), was arguably the most complex of all War on Poverty

programs.15

The Community Action Program housed a number of initiatives that were

charged with working with local communities to create organizations that would

mobilize both government and local resources in a “comprehensive attack on

poverty.” They would provide new services to the poor, attempting to coordinate all

government and neighborhood programs dealing with the poor to bring about

“institutional change in the interests of the poor.” 16 These local organizations were

called Community Action Agencies, or CAAs, and they were to be organized and run

on the local, neighborhood level, where poor people served on the boards of the

agencies and made crucial decisions regarding the function of the CAAs. 17

One of the most important national programs under CAP was Legal Services

for the Poor. Prior to Legal Services, America’s poor had little opportunity to seek

legal redress for their problems. There were legal aid services—founded in the 1870s

and 1880s, that assisted poor with legal help, but those had been insufficient, as a

young Harvard law graduate revealed decades earlier.18 In 1919, a Boston lawyer,

Reginald Heber Smith, published a book called Justice and the Poor: A Study of the

Present Denial of Justice to the Poor and of the Agencies Making more Equal their

Position before the Law with Particular Reference to Legal Aid Work in the United

States. The book, part two in a series looking at the legal profession and legal

14 Stossel, Sarge, 370-71. 15 Matusow, The Unraveling of America, 244. 16 Ibid. 17 Ibid.; Stossel, Sarge, 431. 18 Ibid., 432.

160

education in the United States, provides an extensive examination of the

administration of the law to sectors of society “who by reason of poverty, ignorance,

or lack of knowledge of the language are at a disadvantage” in securing justice

through the American legal system.19 The tone of the book was passionate, as Smith

detailed the struggles experienced by immigrant and poverty stricken Americans, who

had no access to justice and lived in a world at the mercy of often unscrupulous

employers and landlords.

Smith’s study reflected the progressive spirit of reform which pervaded the

era in which he wrote—reformers who believed that the “proper function of

government” was to “secure justice.” And, the highest obligation of that government

was to “secure justice for those who, because they are poor and weak and friendless,

find it hard to maintain their own rights.”20 Smith pointed to the conditions of the

day, which had led to the need to reexamine the effectiveness of the legal system—

unprecedented immigration to the U.S. and other changes brought about by the forces

of industrialization and modernization. Left unchecked, the denial of justice to vast

segments of the population could lead to disloyalty to the American government, the

disintegration of democracy, and eventual anarchy. It surely was a problem in need

of attention. The problem, he argued, lay in three distinct realities governing the

administration of, or access to, the law in “modern litigation”: the delays inherent in

the system; the money required to pay court fees and costs; and the complicated

19 Smith, Reginald Heber, Justice and the Poor: A Study of the Present Denial of Justice to the Poor and of the Agencies Making more Equal their Position before the Law with Particular Reference to Legal Aid Work in the United States. Bulletin Number Thirteen. (Merrymount Press: Boston, 1919), xi. 20 Ibid., ix.

161

nature of the court system, which requires one to pay a trained attorney to navigate

effectively. 21

Smith’s book led to the formation of the National Association of Legal Aid

Organizations, which was renamed the National Legal Aid and Defender Association.

Despite this organization, by the 1960s, the need for legal assistance among the

nation’s poor far exceeded the resources available.22 When in 1964 the U.S.

Department of Health, Education and Welfare held a conference to explore extending

Legal Service to the poor, Attorney General Nicholas B. Katzenbach acknowledged

the long and devoted service of legal aid societies. Yet he called for "new techniques,

new services, and new forms of intra-professional cooperation . . . to analyze the

rights of welfare recipients, of installment purchasers, of people affected by slum

housing, crime and despair.” He also noted signs "that a new breed of lawyers [was]

emerging, dedicated to using the law as an instrument of orderly and constructive

social change."23 Such sentiment would be the foundation for the efforts of Shriver

and his advisors, who studied this problem of unequal access to justice and decided to

investigate the roles that lawyers might play in the administration’s war on poverty.

Legal Services for the Poor was the result.

Legal Services began in 1965 by providing legal services to the poor on a

case-by case basis. This practice taxed the program beyond its resources and

according to Shriver, would never lead to equal justice. In line with his philosophy of

“maximum impact,” Shriver adjusted the course of the program, and on March 17,

21 Ibid., 6. 22 Stossel, Sarge, 432. 23 National Legal Aid and Defender Association (NLADA), website homepage, <www. nlada.org>. Interestingly, this movement, which would help transform the legal profession and government agencies, had its roots in the Gilded Age and Progressive Era.

162

1967, he announced that Legal Services would dedicate its resources to legal reform,

and its tool would be the “test case.” Federally-funded attorneys would use “test

cases” to challenge existing interpretations of existing laws and challenge the

constitutionality of laws that violated the rights of citizens. In other words, Legal

Services would work to reform laws and institutions, even if it meant suing the

federal government. This is something Shriver would embrace, as he declared that

his “proudest moment will be when Legal Services attorneys sue me.” In the nine

years that it operated, 1965-74, Legal Services took 119 cases to the Supreme Court,

representing a wide range of issues—from landlord-tenant law to labor laws to

immigration law. 24 The results were vast, as the nation’s poor began to see the law

as a tool for securing their rights as Americans.

It was in this atmosphere of social concern that Jeff Goldstein and his law

partners came of age as attorneys. They, along with other young, idealistic attorneys,

came to believe in the purpose of Shriver’s program. They embraced the idea that the

law could be used to achieve broad institutional change. Using the class-action

lawsuit as their weapon, they challenged the system itself. Jeff Goldstein later looked

back on this situation as the sign of a “mature democracy”—that the federal govt.

would fund lawyers to sue itself.25

Coming out of this Legal Services tradition, Jeff Goldstein, Sandy Karp, and

Ken Stern ran the People’s Law Office in downtown Denver. They operated from the

belief that the law was an effective tool for justice; that it could be used successfully

on behalf of oppressed peoples who had too often been denied access to justice in the

24 Stossel, Sarge, 440-442. 25 Jeff Goldstein, interview.

163

courts, but whose struggles were righteous. All three had ties with the activist

National Lawyers Guild, which had been founded on the belief that the U.S. legal

system could be used to redress past wrongs. They also looked to history for

examples of groups using the law to achieve a more just society. Goldstein, in

particular, was influenced by the NAACP’s legal strategies during the 40s and 50s,

when the organization began to challenge the constitutionality of segregation.26

More importantly, Goldstein, Karp and Stern had gained important experience

working on behalf of Chicano and AIM activists, associating themselves with an

existing network of attorneys and civil rights organizations that included Ken Padilla,

Federico “Fred” Peña, Rudy Schwerr, Walter Gerash, Francisco “Kiko” Martinez,

and his brother Reyes Martinez (until the latter’s death in the Los Seis de Boulder

bombings in 1973 in Boulder). The group—which came to be known as the Denver

Chicano Liberation Defense Committee—formed part of what had become a

formidable force in support of civil rights in the Denver metropolitan area.27

Jeff Goldstein worked closely with Chicano lawyers, Ken Padilla and Kiko

Martinez, when the three went to defend a group of Chicano activists in the Nebraska

panhandle in 1973. Goldstein had also traveled to Wounded Knee, on the Pine Ridge

Reservation in South Dakota, on February 28, 1973, when the Oglala Sioux Civil

Rights Organization (OSCRO) began a protest against the reservation government by

staging a well-publicized occupation of the small town of Wounded Knee. The 26 Jeff Goldstein, interview; Shirley Romero-Otero, interview. 27 Jeff Goldstein, interview; Vigil, The Crusade for Justice, 232. The DCLDC had been organized by the Crusade for Justice in the wake of the murder of Luis Martinez. Martinez had been a member of Denver’s Crusade for Justice, a nationalistic Chicano organization led by Rudolfo Gonzales. Just after midnight on March 17, 1972, Luis Martinez was shot and killed by Denver Police. The incident fanned the flames of an already strained relationship between the Crusade and Denver Police. The early 1970s would be a time of militant Chicano protest in the Denver Metro area, as the next year brought the deaths of Los Seis de Boulder, as discussed in the previous chapter.

164

protest grew to include many Chicano activists who had become close friends with

the young AIM activists. The occupation lasted for 71 days, culminating in armed

conflict with federal agents and protestors, in which twelve people were wounded and

two Indian activists were killed. During the occupation, working with attorneys from

the American Friends Service Committee, the National Lawyers Guild and the Center

for Constitutional Rights in New York City, Goldstein provided the AIM activists

with legal advice, as they dealt with officials from the FBI, who sought to put an end

to the protest and prosecute the leaders. Goldstein had been part of a team known as

the Wounded Knee Defense Committee.28 Thus, Goldstein would enter the

community of San Luis with a wide array of experiences defending the political

activities of communities-of-color.

Sandy Karp and Jeff Goldstein had also helped to defend Juan Haro, a

Crusade for Justice member who in 1975 had been arrested and eventually convicted

of possessing explosive devices.29 They worked many hours pro bono defending

Haro against questionable charges, stemming from information given to the police by

a paid informant.30 Haro’s case had formed one of the pivotal moments in Denver’s

Chicano Movement, as it brought together Chicano and non-Chicano legal supporters

and political activists in a well-publicized trial and conviction. It also solidified

28 Jeff Goldstein, interview; Vigil, The Crusade for Justice, 201-208. 29 The Crusade for Justice was a militant Chicano organization founded by Denver activist Rudolfo “Corky” Gonzales. The group espoused a nationalist rhetoric and engaged in numerous protests during the late 1960s and 1970s in Denver. Corky had expressed support for the San Luis Movement, even visiting San Luis on one occasion, but LRC members have expressed regret that he was not more attentive to their issues. For a detailed history of the Crusade, see Vigil, Crusade for Justice. 30 Jeff Goldstein, interview; See Vigil, The Crusade for Justice, chapter 14, ”The Conspiracy Case Against John Haro,” for a detailed account of the Juan Haro case and the involvement of the DCLDC attorneys.

165

Goldstein and Karp’s reputation as dedicated supporters of the Chicano cause in

Colorado.

It was no accident then that Otero eventually found Karp and Goldstein.

Following Otero’s initial meeting with Karp, Otero invited him and his law partners

to San Luis to meet with Land Rights Council leaders about their land issues. Karp

accepted on behalf of Goldstein and Stern. In the spring of 1980, the three attorneys

met leaders of the LRC in an old schoolhouse in Chama.31 The adobe building,

which had become the headquarters of the newly-founded Land Rights Council, had

become rickety after years of neglect yet served as a center of political debate and

strategic planning for a community determined to achieve justice. San Luis activists

intended to school the attorneys in the history of their land rights and in the injustice

that had occurred in 1965, when Judge Chilson essentially ignored the historic

evidence that validated those rights.

Ray Otero called the meeting to order in a manner that suggested a formal

board of directors meeting, rather than one attended by a group of relatively

uneducated farmers and ranchers. The first to speak at the meeting was an old man

whose spryness and determination masked his actual age, which was somewhere in

his early 80s. Dressed in his tattered farm overalls and cowboy hat, suggesting that

he had come straight from his ranch duties, Apolinar Rael rose from his seat and

launched into a fiery speech about how the community must fight for its rights.

Goldstein was taken with the elderly man’s eloquence, which he later learned was

31 Jeff Goldstein, interview.

166

even more impressive in Spanish.32 Rael’s beautiful speech suggested that he was

well-read and had a long personal history of fighting for his community’s rights to the

land they called La Sierra. His speech also indicated that the old man had faith in the

American legal system. Rael introduced legal documents, such as the 1863 Beaubien

Document, which validated the San Luis community’s rights to La Sierra—even in an

American legal system that saw property differently than the old Mexican system that

granted those rights.33

Goldstein and Karp listened to Rael and Juan LaComb, also an elder, whose

quiet nature did not take away from his own fiery conviction to continue the fight for

justice. They also listened to the younger LRC members. People like Emilio Lobato,

Eugene Lobato, and Bonifacio “Boni” Lobato, whose family owned large parcels of

land at the foot of Taylor’s ranch. They spoke of the community’s spiritual

connection with La Sierra, as well as the injustices they had experienced, being so

close to Taylor’s land.34 Indeed, by constructing blockades, they argued, Taylor had

made it impossible for Eugene Lobato to access part of his own land.35

The attorneys also listened to the others—the outspoken young people whose

education and experiences had led them to advocate a far different approach to the

land rights problem. People like Ray Otero, Charlie Jaquez, Pete Espinoza, and Gene

Martinez—four military veterans, three of them Vietnam veterans—displayed a

passion for justice that left a deep impression on Goldstein and his partners.

32 Apolinar Rael’s gift for public speaking has been noted by many inside and outside the community. Jeff Goldstein described it in the following manner: “In Spanish, I understand, he shined…[his speech] was poetic.” 33 Jeff Goldstein, interview. 34 Ibid. 35 Eugene Lobato, interview.

167

Hardened by their military experiences and their lack of faith in the American

government, these young men advocated revolution. They wanted to model their

actions on those of Reies Tijerina, whose followers had years earlier raided a

courthouse in northern New Mexico and had “arrested” the District Attorney. In the

spirit of such resistance, they wanted to arm themselves and take over the mountain.

After much debate, the youth deferred to the elders’ belief in the American justice

system and in the legality of the documents they possessed. In the end, the LRC

decided upon a legal strategy, which they would support by political mobilization at

the grassroots level.36

Through he was a main proponent of the legal strategy, Rael did, however,

express a streak of militancy and solidarity with the youth. By the end of the

meeting, a coalition emerged between the LRC and the Denver attorneys. The LRC

leaders had realized that working within the American system would be necessary,

particularly in an increasingly conservative political climate. Despite their decision to

work within the system, the activists would continue their race-based coalitions and

their militant Chicano rhetoric.

The younger activists insisted on having the LRC maintain ties with radical

activist groups outside of the courts. The agreement between the generations only

went so far. The youth—particularly those who had been radicalized by Chicano

Movement politics and tempered by their Vietnam experiences—remained supportive

yet skeptical of a primarily legal strategy. Ray Otero expressed this skepticism. “The

land issue is not limited to the courts. We are seeking support from groups across the

36 Jeff Goldstein, interview; Shirley Romero-Otero, interview; Ray Otero, public lecture, 30 March 2006.

168

nation who support the land struggle, and we cannot depend on a fair hearing from

the courts or for justice…Even with an unfavorable court response, we can’t stop.

Because stopping would be suicidal.”37 He represented the younger generation who,

while supportive of the legal struggle, preferred to keep one foot in the realm of

nationalist politics. The ability of the LRC to navigate between these two

approaches, and indeed use both strategically—pursuing the lawsuit, while

maintaining the rhetoric and racial coalitions of the Chicano Movement—points to

the ability of the San Luis activists to steer their movement through an often-shifting

political landscape.

The meeting between the LRC leaders and the attorneys seemed successful.

Karp and Goldstein left the meeting with a desire to learn more. On January 22,

1980, the LRC officially hired Jeff Goldstein and Sandy Karp as their attorneys.38

Soon thereafter, however, the business partnership involving Karp, Stern and

Goldstein dissolved. The three decided to go their separate ways, and they divvied up

their cases. Goldstein and Stern divided up the two big public interest cases. In

addition to the land rights case, the office had taken on a defense of the workers who

had been deported during an immigration raid at the Gerry manufacturing plant in

Greeley, Colorado. Stern and Goldstein flipped a coin to see who would get each

case. So it was with the flip of a coin that Goldstein became a land rights attorney.39

From that point, Goldstein embraced the community. He committed himself

to learning all he could about the people, their culture and the history of their

37 Ray Otero, public lecture, 30 March 2006; “Land Rights Council Prepares Lawsuit,” La Cucaracha, May 8, 1980. 38 “LRC Hires 2 Attorneys,” Tierra y Libertad, March 1980. 39 Jeff Goldstein, interview; Shirley Romero-Otero, interview.

169

community.40 His openness and natural curiosity about people and history would

enable a coalition between the community, with its history of suspicion toward

outsiders, and these “outsider” attorneys to succeed. Meanwhile, Goldstein’s

personal determination to use the legal system as a tool for justice enabled him to

weather many storms during decades of litigation. Indeed, Goldstein’s background

seemed to have prepared him for such a project.

As a child, Goldstein learned the importance of being informed and engaged

in public issues. He also learned to use his talents to benefit the less fortunate. These

were lessons his parents—the children of Rumanian and Russian immigrants—

instilled in him at an early age. Goldstein’s grandparents had fled the pogroms of

Eastern Europe at the turn of the 20th century and had settled on the East coast—first

in New York City and then in Providence, Rhode Island. In the 1920s and 1930s, his

immigrant grandparents made their way west to California, where they raised their

families. Goldstein’s father earned his Masters in Public Health and his dental

degree. For years, he ran a program that provided dental work to migrant farm

laborers in the California fields. The elder Goldstein worked closely with Cesar

Chavez and became a strong supporter of the farm workers’ boycotts. Goldstein’s

mother was a “political junkie” and a strong supporter of the African American civil

rights movement. Both parents instilled in their children the importance of social

activism.41

As Goldstein got older, he plugged himself into the politically-charged

atmosphere of the day. He had close friends who were active in the Berkeley free

40 Shirley Romero-Otero, interview. 41 Jeff Goldstein, interview.

170

speech movement. As an undergraduate, he studied at California State University-

San Jose and California State University-Northridge. Upon graduation, in order to

avoid being drafted into the Vietnam War—a war he did not believe was just—

Goldstein entered law school at the University of Southern California, in the fall of

1966. In law school, he had been influenced by the politics on campus—namely the

antiwar and civil rights movements. He also encountered the teachings of Derek Bell,

who had been a law professor at Harvard, but had quit over the administration’s lack

of support for minority faculty. Bell went on to teach briefly at NYU before joining

the faculty at USC, where he directed the Westward Center of Law and Poverty. Bell

introduced his students to the practice of “poverty law,” which was becoming more

popular with the growth of Legal Services programs under Sargent Shriver. Bell’s

teachings and activities left a deep impression on Goldstein.42 He came away from

law school with a belief in the effectiveness of “impact litigation,” an idea that

provided the backbone of the Legal Services program. Through “impact litigation,”

activist attorneys sought rulings that would bring about social justice to large

segments of the population, not just individuals.

Following law school, Goldstein worked in a variety of positions that would

further shape him politically. Immediately following his law school graduation,

however, as the war raged on in Vietnam, he decided to clerk for the California Court

of Appeals and apply for a deferment, since he was still 25 and eligible for the draft.

His deferment application, under the category of “critical jobs,” was denied. A few

months later, though, he turned 26 and became ineligible for the draft. Following his

clerkship, Goldstein worked for California Rural Legal Services, providing legal 42 Ibid.

171

services on behalf of migrant farm laborers in Southern California. This was his first

activist position. He then worked with the Long Beach Legal Aid Society, while

attending National Lawyers Guild meetings held at the local law school. Though he

never formally joined the Guild, he did support its efforts. In 1972, Goldstein,

recently divorced, moved to Colorado with his two kids.43 In these early years,

Goldstein was already laying a foundation for a legal career defined by social

activism.

Upon arriving in Denver, he met a young woman named Marcia Tremmel

who worked in the National Lawyers Guild office, and they married in 1976. During

high school, she had been active in the civil rights movement through her years at

Denver’s East High School and had worked with an organization called Workers’

Unity—in an effort to organize factory workers in Denver. Goldstein also met a

Legal Services attorney named Bill Hazelton. Goldstein, Hazelton and attorney Joan

Temko formed a law practice called “The Law Collective,” with Tremmel as their

paralegal. They were all members of the National Lawyers Guild, and once together

began to explore the ideas of Marx, Lenin, Engels, and Locke, in an effort to define

their own political philosophy. They had friends—other activists—who had defined

themselves in terms of various socialist ideas, and Goldstein and his partners wanted

to situate themselves in relation to these political groups. For example, Goldstein had

friends who were members of the October League, as well as friends who were part

of various leftwing Chicano organizations. Would he and his partners join these

radical organizations and risk marginalizing themselves politically, as many people

likely saw these groups as too radical. Or would they take a more moderate approach 43 Ibid.

172

to their work? After reading and debating many socialist ideas, Goldstein and his

partners realized they did not agree with the ideas of the Communist Party or

Trotskyite socialists.44

Rather than take a revolutionary stand, they decided to work within the system

for change. The lawsuit would be their organizing tool for bringing about social

justice. They decided to operate from a belief that the legal system had historically

served those with money—people who had the resources to fight through the courts

for justice. In light of this, their work would support the struggles of peoples who had

traditionally been excluded from or discriminated against by the system. Goldstein

and his colleagues believed that a righteous struggle combined with a properly-

prepared legal case could eventually win in the legal system. That combination,

however, had to be supported outside the courtrooms by a political struggle which

mobilized the resources of the people themselves. In these early years, Goldstein and

his partners adopted a strategy that would become the signature of the San Luis legal

struggle. They relied heavily on the participation of the actual people who were

involved in the struggle. They made sure to bring the people into the courtrooms, so

that the judges could see that they were dealing with real people who had real

concerns.45

Modeling their work after the early work of African American legal

organizations, such as the NAACP under the legal strategist Thurgood Marshall,

Goldstein and his partners realized the value of situating their arguments within the

44 Ibid. 45 Ibid. Jeff Goldstein emphasized that it was the NAACP’s swift use of Constitutional issues that helped strike down Plessy v. Ferguson and make segregation unconstitutional.

173

Constitution itself.46 Arguments rooted in free speech and due process issues were far

more effective in influencing judges than were arguments rooted in more esoteric and

potentially threatening issues like treaty rights and foreign law and custom.

One of the first of many cases that Goldstein took on was to defend a group of

protestors who were arrested while picketing Applejack Liquors in support of the

United Farmworkers’ Boycott of the liquor chain. The UFW had called a boycott on

the Applejack Liquor store, in Lakewood, Colorado. Goldstein succeeded in getting a

temporary injunction lifted so that farm workers could demonstrate in front of the

store without getting arrested. Goldstein and Karp’s firm often represented activists

who found themselves arrested for protesting, whether for Chicano rights, in favor of

union organizing, or against the Vietnam War.47

By the time Goldstein and Karp had signed on with the Land Rights Council

in 1980, the activists and their attorneys had all undergone a process of political

maturation. And all had been influenced by the political movements and political

landscape of the late 1960s and 1970s. The San Luis activists had been radicalized by

the National Chicano movement and the Vietnam War. The elder activists had

carried with them a streak of militancy from years of witnessing injustice in their

community. In turn, the attorneys arrived tempered by the protest movements of the

late 1960s and the Chicano and black civil rights activism of the 1970s. They also

had come of age within a framework of “impact litigation” and poverty law, which

had shaped their early careers and ambitions. In 1980, all had arrived at a place

where they saw the American legal system as a viable and sustainable method for

46 Ibid. 47 Ibid.

174

challenging and indeed overturning legal injustices. Both groups were ready to put

their faith in the courts.

RAEL V. TAYLOR: THE LEGAL BATTLE BEGINS

Once on board, the attorneys faced a complex legal and historical situation

involving: a series of documents that indicated that an injustice had occurred; a slow-

moving legal system that proved historically unwilling or unable to validate claims

related to Spanish and Mexican land grants; and a group of dedicated Chicano

activists who were attempting to revive a political struggle in a community ravaged

by economic despair and political apathy since 1965. The first challenge for the

attorneys was to work with community leaders to define their historic claims. Next,

they had to construct legal arguments that would carry their claims in the courts.

Before they could present their arguments in court, the activists and attorneys had to

work together to present their legal claims to the community, in order to bring the

people on board the movement. For a community as distrustful of outsiders as San

Luis was, this would be no small feat.

With the money provided by the Catholic Church’s Campaign for Human

Development, the Land Rights Council hired local researchers to scour Costilla

County government offices for legal documents related to their claims. They also

sent researchers door-to-door to find documentation to support their rights, as well as

to conduct interviews with potential plaintiffs in the case. What they were finding

energized them. The researchers and the attorneys found many irregularities in the

records used to support Taylor’s claims in the 1965 Torrens Action. For example,

175

they found proof that many people were given improper legal notice that their rights

to use La Sierra were being challenged in court. LRC researchers found that the

record indicated that people living on opposite ends of town were being served with

their notices at the exact same moment, by the same person. They also found that

small children were being served with papers for their parents. Further, the legal

record indicated that dead people also received notice.48 Legal procedures were

ignored. Many of the inconsistencies and outright fabrications that the researchers

discovered during this early work would become critical to the legal arguments that

they would later present to the courts. After months of initial legal and historical

research, the LRC leaders and their attorneys were ready to begin shaping their legal

arguments.

Jeff Goldstein took this legal research and worked closely with a law school

student named Judy Lucero to shape the plaintiffs’ arguments. Goldstein and Lucero

explored the information pertinent to the San Luis case and they also looked at

existing legal precedent regarding similar claims related to Mexican land grants.

They generated the first legal memo of what would be the Rael v. Taylor legal

challenge. The memo introduced the plaintiffs’ claims that Judge Hatfield Chilson

had unlawfully ruled against them in his 1965 District Court ruling, Taylor v. Jaquez.

They argued that the judge had failed to examine the legal and historical issues

48 Handwritten notes listing people served at the same time in different locations, and other inconsistencies of improper legal notice, Land Rights Council files, LRC Office during summer 1997, San Luis, Colorado. I came across this list when I was working for the LRC’s attorneys during the summer of 1997. I found the list in a filing cabinet in the office. See also “Land Rights Council Prepares for Land Lawsuit,” La Cucaracha, May 8, 1980.

176

properly, which had led to a violation of their legal rights to use the resources of La

Sierra.49

With solid legal arguments and a wealth of legal and historical research to

support these claims, the LRC leaders and Goldstein and his partners knew the next

step was to take their strategy to the people of San Luis. On August 18, 1980, the

leaders of the Land Rights Council called to order a meeting in a tiny, windowless

adobe building in El Rito. El Rito, or San Francisco, is part of the larger San Luis

community that sits to the southwest of San Luis proper, closest to the base of La

Sierra. The people of San Francisco were adversely affected by the fencing off of the

mountain, since many of them relied on hunting on La Sierra to feed their families.

While they desired legal access to be restored, many ignored the current restrictions

and continued their use of the mountain, which was vital to their survival. More than

people living in the town of San Luis, people of El Rito represented those who

identified most closely with the mountain and their lifestyle included daily excursions

onto La Sierra. The homes of people in El Rito were laden with artifacts, testifying to

their relationship with the mountain, such as animal heads, fishing poles, rifles, and

horse saddles.50 For these “mountain” people, La Sierra was more than a symbol of

an injustice; it was an unspoken part of them. It pervaded every aspect of their

lives—their diets, their shelter, their recreation, their memories, and their spirituality.

The LRC’s leaders called the meeting on that August day to introduce their

legal strategy to the people of the San Luis community. Shirley Romero-Otero, Ray

Otero, and Apolinar Rael opened the meeting by speaking passionately of the

49 Jeff Goldstein, interview. 50 Agatha Medina, interview; Personal observations of author, 4 August 2007.

177

injustice that had occurred in the courts in 1965, when Judge Chilson declared their

historic land rights invalid. It was their duty, as a community, to challenge that ruling

and to see that their voices were heard. The activists introduced the idea of pursuing

a lawsuit against Jack Taylor, claiming that they indeed possessed valid legal rights to

use the resources of La Sierra, which was now the Taylor Ranch. These rights, they

argued, fell under their original “settlement” rights. While the audience seemed

interested in what they were saying, the response seemed a bit flat. 51

The LRC’s newly hired attorneys also attended the meeting. This would be

the first time that LRC leaders introduced them to the community at El Rito. Jeff

Goldstein and Sandy Karp explained the legal arguments that they planned to present

to the court. These arguments emerged from the research that they and locals had

conducted in the months following their initial meeting with LRC activists in Chama.

The attorneys explained that they would be presenting three main arguments to the

court. The arguments were really nothing new to the potential plaintiffs; however,

thinking about them in terms of the American justice system was new and needed to

be explained. The attorneys first argued that in his 1961 Torrens Title Action, Taylor

failed to provide the locals with sufficient legal notice of what he was doing. The

Courts required “due diligence” in providing notice of legal action. LRC leaders and

their attorneys claimed that they had not been sufficiently notified, and indeed only

about one-third of all property owners had been notified at all. Thus, they argued that

51 Shirley Romero-Otero, interview; “Legal Action to Regain La Sierra: First Plaintiffs Come Forward,” Tierra y Libertad, September 1980.

178

the court’s ruling on the Torrens Action was invalid, as their Constitutional right to

due process had been violated by Taylor.52

Second, the attorneys claimed that the 1863 Beaubien Document had granted

the community the rights to “collect timber and firewood, graze, hunt, fish, and

recreate on La Sierra”—claims that were not considered valid by the court.53

Essentially, they were calling on the court to interpret the Beaubien Document in its

proper historical context and according to Carlos Beaubien’s original intent, which

was imbedded in its historical context. In the context of the laws and customs that

governed Mexican land grants, the plaintiffs argued that Beaubien intended to grant

the community usufructary rights to the mountain.54 The final argument stated that

the community’s rights originated in Mexican law, prior to the Treaty of Guadalupe

Hidalgo, and that the treaty obligated the United States to honor land rights rooted in

Mexican law.55 It was thus a treaty issue.

Once the LRC leaders and their attorneys had finished presenting these legal

issues, they asked people to come forward and “sign on the dotted line” as plaintiffs

in the lawsuit. The audience sat silent. Not a soul moved. It seemed that either the

community was not convinced this was in their best interests, or they remained

apathetic to the struggle. After a couple long minutes, a tiny woman stirred. She had

been sitting in the back of the crowded room with her husband. She and Shirley

Romero were the only women in the room.56

52 Golten, “Lobato v. Taylor,” 469. 53 Ibid. 54 Ibid. “Usufructuary” rights are use rights without ownership. 55 Ibid. 56 Shirley Romero-Otero, interview; “Legal Action to Regain La Sierra: First Plaintiffs Come Forward,” Tierra y Libertad, September 1980.

179

The small woman, a victim of childhood polio, steadied her crutches in both

hands, and began to rise to her feet. The sound of her squeaking metal crutches broke

the uncomfortable silence. Agatha Medina stood up—all 4 feet of her—and began to

make her way to the front of the room. She moved slowly, with immense effort.

There was nothing graceful about her journey to the front of the room. She threw out

verbal insults the entire way. Her biting words challenged all the able-bodied men in

the room. “Bueno cabrones, si ustedes hombres no tienen los huevos para firmar,

dejame pasar.” [“Fine, if you men don’t have the balls to sign, get out of the way

and let me pass.”] Her husband, Ray, followed her to the front.57

Ms. Medina became the first plaintiff to sign onto the lawsuit. Her husband

became the second. Perhaps inspired by his wife’s bravery, her husband then spoke

to those whom his wife had just insulted. Ray Medina explained that the San Luis

community needed “to become unified in order to regain [its] lands.” He explained

that he and his wife had moved to Denver from El Rito, in search of work, after

Taylor closed off the mountain, but that they decided to move “back to San Luis

because [they could] not make it in the city.” He expressed the San Luis belief that

“We need our land to survive” and that anything that essential to life should be

defended.58

With her bold procession to the front of the room, Agatha Medina had

convinced–or perhaps bullied—others in the room to sign their names onto the

lawsuit. The legal phase of the movement was officially underway. Meanwhile,

activists pledged to continue their grassroots political mobilization, in order to

57 Shirley Romero-Otero, interview; “Legal Action to Regain La Sierra: First Plaintiffs Come Forward,” Tierra y Libertad, September 1980. 58 Ibid.

180

support the struggle in the courts. Around this time, activists painted a message on

the water tower, along the main road into San Luis, from the north, warning outsiders

to beware. The message, in large letters, declared “Chicano Land, No Gringos.”59

Now that the organization had established itself as the legitimate voice of the

community and had formed a coalition with Denver attorneys , the LRC’s leaders

worked to build support for their lawsuit. During the two years since its founding, the

LRC had successfully rekindled enough local interest in the land rights issue to gain

funding for the movement and to initiate a lawsuit. They had accomplished this

through educational outreach efforts, community gatherings, national land

conferences, and coalitions with minority activist groups who shared their history of

racial oppression. They did this by continuing many of the strategies that had proven

successful in the past. Knowing that the courts often moved slowly, LRC leaders

braced themselves for what they thought would be a long legal struggle. They could

not imagine that the struggle would take them into the 21st century and that it would

try the stamina and dedication of even the most devoted among them. They could not

have imagined the obstacles they would encounter, nor could they have imagined that

the lure of “easy” solutions would nearly fracture the community beyond repair, as

some tired of the fight and courted compromise solutions to the land rights problem.

In 1980, the LRC activists and their attorneys knew only that they had a movement to

sustain.

While many had already signed on, there were many more property owners

who viewed the lawsuit with suspicion. Many saw a solution in compromise. In

January 1980, United States Representative Ray Kogovsek, a Colorado Democrat, 59 “First Plaintiffs Come Forward,” Tierra y Libertad, September 1980.

181

had proposed a solution to the “range war” over La Sierra.60 This proposal, at the

highest levels of the federal government, came on the heels of some particularly

violent years. The mid- to late-1970s saw an increase in violent confrontations

between locals and Jack Taylor’s ranch managers. In one such incident, in October

1974, San Luis locals physically assaulted Walter Barber, one of Taylor’s hired

hands, who confronted them just outside the ranch. The locals were vandalizing a

ranch sign, when Barber and his wife came upon them and threatened to shoot. Both

parties drew their pistols, and Barber ended up bleeding on the ground.61 Perhaps the

most serious incident, in the eyes of government officials, took place on October 15,

1975, when somebody fired shots at Jack Taylor, while he slept.62

Kogovsek’s proposal, then, intended to resolve such bloody conflicts once and

for all and end the conflict that had for so long put a stain on his state. The legislator

proposed that the federal government give Taylor an equal amount of federal land in

another location, while declaring the contested Mountain Tract a national wilderness

area, which would be accessible to the San Luis community.63 Many people in the

community found the idea of ending the land conflict appealing. For a community

that had been economically devastated by the loss of access to the mountain’s

resources, the prospect of being allowed to use the mountain again was certainly

attractive. The offer, however, brought to the surface some deeply embedded

suspicions of both outsiders and the American government.

60 “Legislator Suggests Action on Mountain Tract,” Tierra y Libertad, January 1980. 61 “Incident Report,” Walter Barber to J.O. Lewis, District Attorney for Costilla County, October 18, 1974, Personal Papers of Eugene Martinez. 62 “A Mountain of Trouble,” Westword, July 6, 1994. 63 “Legislator Suggests Action on Mountain Tract,” Tierra y Libertad, January 1980.

182

Ray Otero and Eugene Martinez spoke for the Land Rights Council when they

publicly voiced their skepticism over the proposal. They declared that such

intervention by the state was nothing new, and that locals had found such offers to be

unacceptable in the past. Martinez demanded to know what the State, as steward of

the land, would do to protect the rights and privileges of the San Luis community.

For example, if La Sierra was to become federal land, then the locals could not hunt,

because state laws prohibited hunting on federal land. Otero emphasized that federal

ownership would also greatly restrict the use of motorized vehicles on the land, and

that such restrictions would make it impossible for locals to exercise their right to

gather firewood and lumber from La Sierra. For the LRC, the involvement of the

state seemed to create more problems than solutions. Otero insisted that “[t]he people

want the land back to use the way they always did, they don’t want the land to be

controlled by Taylor or the Feds.”64 LRC leaders also expressed the community’s

fear that, as a national park, La Sierra would become a tourist destination. This, they

argued, would only hurt the fragile ecosystem on the mountain and would bring

crowds of tourists into the San Luis community.65 Community leaders debated these

and other aspects of Kogovsek’s proposal. In the end, the proposal went nowhere,

and the LRC’s grassroots efforts to promote the lawsuit continued.

From its inception, the Land Rights Council emphasized the importance of

self-education. Its leaders believed that by acquiring knowledge of the issues and of

the law, they would empower themselves. One of the first things the LRC did with

the funding from the Catholic Church’s Campaign for Human Development was to

64 “Legislator Suggests Action on Mountain Tract,” Tierra y Libertad, January 1980. 65 “Land Swap for Mountain Tract Idea Revived,” La Cucaracha, February 5-18, 1980.

183

create a “legal library” by purchasing numerous legal books and journals, with the

guidance of their attorneys. They also sent researchers to libraries and archives

throughout the Southwest, in search of legal and historical documentation relating to

the Sangre de Cristo Grant. These included the local Costilla County government

offices, libraries and archives in Denver, the State Archives in New Mexico, the

Catholic Church archives in Albuquerque, and the Texas Supreme Court Library.66

This research revealed a long, complex history of Mexican and Spanish land grants in

the Southwest, and an equally complex relationship between those land grants and the

American legal system. Researchers also located documents that supported their

claim to legal and historic rights to use the resources of La Sierra.

In the months and years following the hiring of their attorneys, Land Rights

Council leaders participated in a series of speaking engagements around the country.

Armed with a thorough knowledge of the legal and historic issues that their

community was dealing with, activists sought to spread that information and cultivate

solidarity with other Chicano and non-Chicano activists. LRC activists knew the

power of education, and they aimed to educate people both inside and outside the San

Luis community, about the “land theft” that had occurred. They continued to use

their slide show, “La Tierra,” to provide valuable images of their community and of

La Sierra, and audiences continued to be awed by the beauty of the landscape and of

the unique culture that formed in the shadow of La Sierra.

In the spring of 1980, the LRC presented its case to a group of activists in

California. The gathering was a planning conference for the 10th Anniversary

commemoration of the 1970 Chicano Moratorium, in Los Angeles. Although the 66 La Merced, 9.

184

focus of the planning meeting was the organization of a spiritual walk to honor the

participants of the 1970 Moratorium, especially to honor the life of fallen journalist,

Ruben Salazar, California activists invited groups from around the nation to speak

about current Chicano issues. The organizers had invited the Land Rights Council to

attend. Those in attendance included Chicano activists, as well as activists from

groups like the Black Berets and others who expressed their solidarity for the Chicano

struggle for equal rights.67

The number of civil rights groups that participated in this event indicated that

a vigorous national network of civil rights activists was still functioning, although the

national political climate had become more conservative. More importantly, it

showed that the Land Rights Council was still plugged into that national network.

The LRC continued to maintain such ties with regional and national civil rights

activists—through participating in gatherings like this, as well as by inviting civil

rights leaders to San Luis to speak to community members. Perhaps more

importantly, the LRC’s participation in events such as this Chicano Moratorium

commemoration shows that still by the early 1980s, San Luis activists still asserted a

nationalist identity. Although the LRC had broadened its coalitional strategy to

include white attorneys, race and nationalism were still central to the group’s

resistance.

67 “Califas Meeting Brings Land Struggle to Front,” Tierra y Libertad, May 1980; Eugene Martinez, interview. For more information on the 1980 Chicano Moratorium Spiritual Walk, see the files of Juan Felipe Herrera, #M-1043, located at the Manuscript Division of the Stanford University Special Collections and University Archives, box 56, folder 23. It contains fliers, maps, notes, and contacts related to the Commemoration. See also the papers of Herman Baca, co-founder of the Committee on Chicano Rights and co-organizer of the event, located in box 20, file 8, Mandeville Special Collections Library, Geisel Library, University of California, San Diego.

185

During the same public relations trip to the west coast, the LRC activists also

presented to a group of National Lawyers Guild Attorneys who had expressed their

support of their case. They also traveled to schools to present their history to

students. LRC board member Gene Martinez, who had organized the trip, found all

the audiences—the Chicano Moratorium planning committee, the National Lawyers

Guild, and the students—to be quite supportive of his people’s struggles. He and the

others were shocked; however, by their ignorance of “Hispanic history in Colorado.”

Over and over again, their audiences expressed their surprise that Hispanics in

Colorado owned land and possessed rights to common lands, such as La Sierra.

Statements like these motivated the activists’ even more, as they became more

determined to spread their message of injustice and to gain widespread support for a

lawsuit that would overturn the injustices of the past.68

LRC leaders also gave local lectures, often in Alamosa. In one session, during

the mid-1980s, Apolinar Rael spoke to activist groups that had gathered in Alamosa

to address land issues in Central America as well as the United States. Apolinar was

invited to talk about local land issues, associated with Mexican land grants and the

American government’s handling of those land grants. Those in attendance recalled

that he enthralled his audience with his eloquence, his passion, and his crisp

intellect.69

As support for the movement spread, David Martinez and Juan Espinosa,

founders of Producciones Estrella Roja and editors of La Cucaracha, partnered with

filmmaker Danny Salazar. Salazar had connections with the Colorado Broadcast

68 “Califas Meeting Brings Land Struggle to Front,” Tierra y Libertad, May 1980; Eugene Martinez, interview. 69 Glenda Maes, interview.

186

Corporation and was able to secure funding for a film documentary of the land rights

struggle. Salazar served as the director and producer, while Martinez and Espinosa

used their skills to interview numerous San Luis activists about their involvement in

and support for the land rights movement. The three spent four months in San Luis

interviewing locals and shooting footage of both the people and their community.70

The film, like the slide show, was bilingual and sought to portray a culture defined by

the land. The film highlighted key political figures, such as Apolinar Rael, in his

most comfortable setting—providing feed for his sheep, engaging in physical labor in

his mid-80s. Overall, the documentary portrayed a traditional culture threatened by

one man’s greed.71

In late June of 1980, the San Luis community held its annual fiesta,

celebrating its patron saints—Santa Anna and Santiago. The annual fiesta

traditionally brings people to San Luis from all over the region for a weekend of

parades, food, music, dancing, religious celebrations, and rodeos. Since 1960, the

fiesta had served as a yearly homecoming for those born and raised in San Luis but

who left the community when in the wake of their lost access to La Sierra. This year,

the Land Rights Council was at the center of the festivities. During the course of the

weekend celebration, activists spoke to festive crowds about the importance of the

lawsuit and the legal resistance strategy adopted by the LRC. They spoke about the

coalitions they formed with a group of Denver attorneys who were as committed as

they were to realizing justice in the courts. They also presented their new slide show

70 David Martinez, interview; Juan Espinosa, interview. 71 “La Tierra, Last Stand in Costilla County,” Red Star Productions, video recording, 1980.

187

“La Tierra,” which presented images of La Sierra and their community, whose culture

was shaped by the mountain.72

Chicano newspapers continued to be an effective vehicle for communicating

and promoting the land rights struggle. La Cucaracha and Tierra y Libertad were the

two main print conduits of information about the San Luis land rights movement.

Both La Cucaracha and Tierra y Libertad published extensively on issues related to

the lawsuit, and the LRC came to rely heavily on these publications as they mobilized

local and regional support for the lawsuit. In the July 1980 issue of Tierra y Libertad,

the Land Rights Council published an article calling on all San Luis natives who had

relocated to Front Range cities like Denver, Colorado Springs, and Pueblo, to engage

their time and energy in their hometown struggle—in defense of the land rights, and

indeed the culture, that helped to shape them and their community.73 They also

reinforced the idea that the LRC was working for all the people of San Luis. Indeed,

the LRC was the people’s organization, and it is the duty of the people to support it.

That support may be in the form of information or manual labor that would help to

maintain the LRC headquarters.74 La Cucaracha emphasized the importance of

unity, knowledge, responsibility, and action.

The editors of La Cucaracha and Tierra y Libertad continued to reinforce the

existing communication network and the formal and informal coalitions that existed

among Chicano and non-Chicano civil rights groups.75 Both papers celebrated the

72 Advertisement, Tierra y Libertad, July 1980. 73 “Council Attempts to Locate Heirs to Land Grants,” Tierra y Libertad, July 1980. 74 Ibid. 75 According to the October 29, 1967 issue of La Raza, on October 21, 1967, a group of Chicano activists from throughout the nation gathered in Albuquerque, New Mexico. They arrived in support of Reies Tijerina and his Alianza Federal de las Mercedes (Federal Alliance of Land Grants). At the meeting, they discussed the “establishment of a national communications network with the purpose of

188

resistance efforts exerted by groups which shared similar injustices. In Tierra y

Libertad, Ray Otero, as editor, gave special attention to the land struggles of the

peasant farmers of El Salvador.76 In comparing the LRC’s land struggle to that of the

people of El Salvador, who were also fighting over land issues, LRC leaders were

giving their movement an international significance. Both papers gave significant

attention to Puerto Rican activists who were also resisting their colonial status at the

hands of the United States government. LRC leaders emphasized their commonalities

with Puerto Ricans who had been waging a resistance effort to have the United States

Navy leave the Puerto Rican island of Vieques. Occupation, they argued, was a form

of colonialism.77 In addition, LRC supporters expressed solidarity with a group of

Puerto Rican activists who were invited to speak to audiences in Denver, Boulder,

and Alamosa. The talk in Alamosa drew many supporters of the San Luis movement.

Observers spoke of the “warmth and solidarity” that filled the room, as the activists

recounted their years spent as political prisoners of the United States. As the Puerto

Rican activists “cited similarities between the Chicano/Mexicano struggle and that of

Puerto Rican people.” The “Southwest of the United States” and Puerto Rico are

colonies of the United States, the activists argued, and both share a “common goal” of

resisting that colonial status—politically, legally, and economically.78 Intensive

coverage of such events promoted not only the LRC cause, but the importance of its

coalitions with other civil rights organizations. maintaining a constant flow of information concerning organizational experiences.” The article went on to describe the desire of activists to “break down the isolation” around the nation. They also discussed the forging of coalitions with other “oppressed groups.” The San Luis community was plugged into this network through the efforts of Ray Otero, who served as the link between the LRC and Tijerina and his organization. 76 “Land is Central Issue in El Salvador Bloodshed,” Tierra y Libertad, May 1980. 77 “Important Events in the Land Rights Struggle,” Tierra y Libertad, January 1980. 78 Puerto Rican Nationalists tell Coloradans of Struggle,” La Cucaracha, 13 February- 3 March 1980.

189

Following a successful summer of activities promoting their lawsuit,

culminating in the recruitment of plaintiffs for the lawsuit, LRC leaders continued

their grassroots activities. In October 1980, Ray Otero invited his mentor, long-time

Chicano land grant activist, Reies Tijerina, to speak at the LRC headquarters.

Tijerina, known affectionately as King Tiger, for his fiery oratory style, accepted the

offer, and on a brisk October day, he enthralled his audience with his passionate

rhetoric. Over 150 people attended the lecture in the old schoolhouse in Chama. The

former evangelical preacher chose to speak in Spanish and began by blasting what he

called the “legal Mafia”—the corrupt bankers, lawyers, and politicians who left the

Chicanos without land. He detailed his 24 years of working in the land struggle,

which taught him that “equal rights, equal protection under the law doesn’t exist.” He

criticized the Anglo judicial system, which he argued only existed for the Anglo, not

the Chicano.79

Tijerina further encouraged the San Luis residents to continue their resistance.

He warned them that although the centers of power in the United States—namely the

CIA, the FBI, and the White House—opposed the Chicano land struggle and harassed

Chicano leaders and organizations, they needed to continue to resist. He suggested

that only Chicano communities like San Luis really possessed the moral and

environmental authority over the Mexican land grants. He drove his point home

when he said that only those who live close to the land could truly appreciate the land

for what it is—“a marvel, a richness, a power.” Only those who saw land in this way

could protect it from the “legal Mafia,” in a world in which land was becoming an

79 “Reies Tijerina: San Joaquin Land Now is Free,” La Cucaracha, October 30, 1980; “Tijerina to Speak in Chama, CO at LRC Headquarters, Public Invited,” La Cucaracha, October 23, 1980.

190

increasingly contested resource.80 He insisted that it was the responsibility of the

residents of San Luis to support the LRC in its fight to regain access to La Sierra from

Taylor and to assert their environmental authority onto that fragile landscape. In the

end, Tijerina’s speech fanned the fire of resistance that the LRC had so successfully

rekindled.

That resistance—both on the grassroots level and in the courts—continued

throughout the 1980s. On March 11, 1981, 100 Costilla County land-owning

plaintiffs and their attorneys filed their suit, Rael v. Taylor. By the time they filed the

papers with the court, LRC leaders and Goldstein had made additional discoveries

that strengthened their arguments. Rael v. Taylor made three main arguments, which

LRC leaders and Goldstein and his partners had presented to the community the

previous September. At the heart of their case, the plaintiffs argued that the 1965

District Court Judge had erred in his ruling. They stated that indeed a “grave

injustice” had occurred, because Taylor and his attorneys failed to exercise due

diligence in their attempts to serve notice to the land owners of Costilla County.

Consequently, his Torrens decree was void because of this failure. When plaintiff

attorneys had compared the names of landowners on the 1959 county tax rolls and

had compared that list with the people that Taylor’s attorneys had named and served

in 1960, they discovered that they had attempted to serve less than half of them.

Taylor should have known how to reach all the property owners. Thus, this was a

Constitutional matter. The 14th Amendment states that if a person does not receive

notice in a legal action, that person is not barred by a judgment. Clearly those

unnamed persons were not barred by the 1965 decision. In addition, a large number 80 “King Tiger Speaks of Land,” Tierra y Libertad, November 1980.

191

of those who had been named, especially those landowners living in the tiny villages

closest to the mountains, had never answered interrogatories. In fact, interrogatories

were never even attempted, since they had no attorney. The defense lawyer, Elihu

Romero, never attempted to conduct these interrogatories, since he never believed

that he was their attorney. He was attorney for the leaders of the Asociacíon de

Civicos Derechos.81 These folks were clearly not served by the justice system.

The second and third arguments were more difficult to frame in terms of

American law, through the plaintiffs and their attorneys clearly believed there was a

legal basis to support them. The second was that the District Court had failed to

interpret the 1863 Beaubien Document in its proper historic context. They argued

that the Spanish-language document clearly grants legal rights to landowners to

gather wood, graze their animals, hunt, fish, and recreate on La Sierra. The third

argument stated that the District Court had violated the 1848 Treaty of Guadalupe

Hidalgo, which promised to uphold the laws and customs that had governed land

grants under Mexican Law and Custom.82

“YOU’VE GOT A FRIEND IN JESUS”: FATHER PAT AND THE CATHOLIC CHURCH

After filing the suit in 1981, attorneys continued to submit pleadings to the

court, while activists continued their grassroots activities. The challenge was to keep

up community morale, despite the slow pace of the legal system. A key player,

whose support for the movement helped sustain community morale, arrived on the

81 Jeff Goldstein, interview; “Needmor Fund” grant proposal for “Family History and Land Use in the Culebra Valley,” June 1, 1984, Land Rights Council, San Luis, CO, Personal Papers of Marianne L. Stoller. 82 Golten, “Lobato v. Taylor,” 467-471.

192

scene in 1984. Father Maximo Patricio Valdez moved to town. Father Pat—as he

would be known—arrived from Denver. He had served as parish priest for Our Lady

of Guadalupe Church in a working-class, Latino section of northwest Denver, where

he had become politically active in social justice movements in urban communities.

He had also become a distant supporter of the Land Rights Council, when in the early

years of the LRC he hosted a fundraising event at Our Lady of Guadalupe.83 Father

Pat’s arrival in San Luis was a homecoming, having grown up in Capulin, Colorado,

a small town in the western part of the San Luis Valley. He spoke the language and

knew the culture of the people. He also knew the political landscape of the region.

His presence would transform the grassroots movement, while bringing to the surface

many conflicts that had existed in the community for years.

When he moved to San Luis and the Most Precious Blood Parish, Fr. Pat

encountered a community that was not only economically depressed, but which was

suffering from a lack of hope. Few individuals were attending Sunday Masses, much

less weekday masses, and the outlying mission, or “satellite,” churches were faring

much worse. Two of the ten had already closed their doors. Knowing that the church

was the cultural heart and soul of these communities, Father Pat charged in and

immediately changed the name of the church to Sangre de Cristo, to reflect the

cultural roots of the community.84

In the years following his arrival in San Luis, Father Pat set out to revitalize

the parish and community. Father Pat harnessed parish labor to patch the cracks in

the adobe Church building and the stained-glass windows that adorned its sides. He

83 “San Luis Reborn Under Father Pat,” The Denver Post, December 25, 2000; Shirley Romero-Otero, interview; Robert Kino Green, interview. 84 “San Luis Reborn Under Father Pat,” The Denver Post, December 25, 2000.

193

also appointed a crew of willing parishioners to spend three months sanding and

refinishing the altar, which years earlier had been given a sloppy faux-marble paint

job. Valdez also recruited local bronze sculptor Hubert Maestas to design life-size

sculptures for a Stations of the Cross shrine that would adorn the hillside of a nearby

mesa. He employed local architect, Arnold Valdez, to draw up plans for a Spanish-

style chapel at the top of the shrine. These structures greet visitors as they enter the

town from any direction, and they have made San Luis a destination for religious

pilgrims from around the nation. Finally, by converting the old Mercy High School

into a bed-and-breakfast, Father Pat ensured a source of revenue for parish

activities.85 Through such efforts, Valdez intended to create a sense of ownership and

pride in the community, something that had been lacking since the economic decline

caused by Taylor’s arrival.

Father Pat’s efforts mirrored what the LRC was trying to do in the political

realm, and the activist priest would come to support the land rights struggle in some

crucial ways. Locals saw him as a strong leader and a vital ally of the political

struggles of his community. Relations between the church and the LRC would not

always be harmonious, however, as the more radical activists resented Father Pat’s

occasional efforts to forge a diplomatic solution to the problem.86 Nevertheless,

Valdez symbolized the crucial alliance that LRC activists had forged with the

Catholic Church—on a local level.

85 Ibid. 86 These conflicts will be discussed in detail in chapter 5. In short, the more militant voices in the LRC saw Father Pat as being too willing to compromise. In the 1990s, the priest would join the moderate La Sierra Foundation, which was essentially a foil for the radical LRC.

194

Indeed the alliance between the LRC and the parish seemed a natural one,

particularly in the years following the Vatican II changes in the Church, which

trickled down to San Luis in the early 1970s with the arrival of Father Angelo

Urdiain. Father Pat supported the movement in many ways. Most importantly, he

attacked the complacent attitude that lingered in the community. If one listened

closely, echoes of Father Bernardo Rotger could be heard in the words of Father Pat.

Rotger had been the local priest in the 1940s, and his fiery rhetoric of resisting unjust

challenges to the community’s land rights found new relevance in the 1980s, just as

they had at the time of the founding of the Land Rights Council.87

By 1984, the land rights lawsuit was tied up in the courts. The papers had

been filed, and the waiting game began. It would be more difficult during the slow

years that followed to keep up the grassroots resistance and to convince plaintiffs and

the community at large that progress was being made. Meanwhile, economic

conditions in San Luis continued to deteriorate. Without access to the mountain, the

same processes of economic stagnation and out-migration that plagued the town in

the 1960s and 1970s continued.88 Father Pat’s arrival could not have happened at a

more crucial time in the history of the land rights struggle, and the LRC activists

would seize upon the opportunities that his presence made possible. It was after the

arrival of Father Pat, however, that the local parish became more involved in the

grassroots movement.

The Land Rights Council activists soon realized that the Church provided a

valuable recruiting platform for their cause. Years before, Shirley Romero-Otero,

87 “Land to be Opened for Future Generations,” Tierra y Libertad, January 1979. Father Rotger’s remarks are addressed in chapter 3. 88 Stoller, “Preliminary Manuscript,” 80-81.

195

Ray Otero, and Apolinar Rael had worked closely with the previous parish priest,

Father Angelo Urdiain, to gain his support for the formation of the Land Rights

Council. Father Angelo attended LRC meetings, hosted an LRC fiesta, and

encouraged the leaders to build a movement.89 Now, the activists believed that they

could gain even more support—at a more crucial time in the history of the struggle—

from Father Pat, given his propensity toward activism. He did not disappoint.

From the beginning, Father Pat listened to the activists. He learned about the

issues at the heart of the lawsuit. He met Jeff Goldstein. He offered the pulpit to the

activists. Perhaps no other form of support proved to be as crucial as allowing the

activists to make announcements in church. He allowed them to make presentations

during Mass to educate the people about the latest developments in the land rights

struggles, as well as to recruit new members to the LRC and to inform people about

upcoming fundraisers and meetings. Father Pat also allowed LRC leaders to use

Church copy machines, telephones and the parish center for its meetings.90

The tacit approval of the Church convinced many that their cause was just,

even if that cause appeared to have a “radical” leaning. For a community whose faith

and devotion had been revitalized, the fact that the parish priest sanctioned their

community’s grassroots struggle empowered that movement. Locals began to see

their Church as a supporter of equal rights. They felt supported in their political

resistance. The Church’s support made them feel they were in the right. The

growing alliance between the LRC and the local Church provided hope to those who

supported the struggle. It seemed that the grassroots movement was gaining

89 Father Angelo Urdiain, interview. 90 Personal observations of author; Glenda Maes, interview; Shirley Romero-Otero, interview; Charlie Jaquez, interview; Robert Kino Green, interview.

196

momentum with the enthusiastic support from Father Pat and the Church. The slow

pace of the courts, however, would create challenges to the unity and direction of that

grassroots movement.

WAITING FOR THE COURTS

By 1984, it had been three years since the filing of the lawsuit, and still there

was no victory. While Father Pat’s presence helped to energize the movement,

progress slowed. Despite the lull, LRC leaders remained steadfast in their efforts to

recruit supporters for their cause and to continue compiling historical information that

would support their case in court, and of course, Father Pat’s presence helped

energize the movement. That year, three activists—LRC board president Charlie

Jaquez, San Luis native Marianne Stoller (an anthropology professor at Colorado

College), and Jeff Goldstein—drew up a funding proposal for an oral history project

entitled “Family History and Land Use in the Culebra Valley.” They designed the

project primarily to “support the current…class action suit” and to “serve as a vehicle

for organizing the residents of Costilla County to support and defend their historical

rights and to ensure their economic prosperity in the future.” Secondly, the project

would help preserve the oral history of the community to benefit future generations

and contribute to the existing body of knowledge of national Chicano history.91 The

convergence of Jaquez, Stoller, and Goldstein on this project reinforced the LRC’s

strategy of bringing diverse peoples with specific talents in support of their lawsuit.

It also pointed to the political savvy of the LRC leaders who were approaching their

struggle from a number of different angles. 91 “Needmor Fund” grant proposal, June 1, 1984.

197

The efforts of Jaquez, Stoller, Goldstein and Father Pat could not change the

economic reality of the situation. Economic hardship and the slow pace of the courts

began to fracture the community by the mid-1980s. Despite the support of the church

and the enthusiasm of the LRC, one community leader estimated that 70% of the San

Luis community had turned against the struggle and advocated dropping the lawsuit.

Many of these disgruntled residents felt that the struggle was not theirs—that it was

caused by Chicano radicals from the outside imposing their nationalist politics on the

community. This same leader believed that the majority of the San Luis community

would gladly give up the fight for their rights to the mountain to prove the militants

wrong.92

In response to this growing discontent, LRC activists intensified their

resistance efforts, while locals continued to ignore restrictions placed on them by

Taylor and the law. Apolinar Rael, now 89 years old, maintained every bit of his

fiery resolve when he spoke publicly about Taylor. “Taylor is blacker than hell in his

heart…The man who sold him the land told him he could handle the people in

Costilla County ‘cause we didn’t have guts. I have plenty of guts. I can fight this

forever.” Younger activists also refused to back down. Charlie Jaquez, still bitter

over his service in Vietnam and the injustice that the war committed on “black and

brown Americans,” continued his criticism of a system that would allow Taylor to

commit such an injustice.93

Others publicly promoted the lawsuit, despite the slow pace of the courts, as

the community’s only viable path to justice. “What chance do we have other than the

92 “Who is King of the Mountain?,” Denver Post Magazine, April 21, 1985. 93 “Who is King of the Mountain?,” Denver Post Magazine, April 21, 1985. Jaquez is also quoted in Dick Johnston, The Taylor Ranch War: Property Rights Die.

198

courts?” asked rancher Emilio Lobato, who, like Rael, argued that the people of San

Luis were not quitters. Lobato insisted that, as Castilian Spaniards—the most

stubborn people in the world—the people of San Luis had a long tradition of fighting

against outsiders. “It took our ancestors 800 years to re-conquer Spain. To us, 25

years isn’t long. If it takes 200 years, we’ll still be fighting. This is our land, and

time is on our side.”94 That dogged resolve would be tested, as the court issued its

first response to the people’s claims.

In 1986, the State court granted Taylor’s request for a summary judgment and

ruled without holding a trial on the merits of the case—a controversial move in itself.

In ruling on the plaintiff’s claims in Rael v. Taylor, the court essentially upheld the

District Court’s ruling that land use rights that had been granted under Mexican law

did not legally survive the 1848 Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, nor could they have

been validated by the 1860 Congressional Confirmation of the Sangre de Cristo Grant

title to Charles Beaubien.95 In other words, the court ruled that the plaintiffs’ claims

were subject to res judicata in the 1965 Torrens action.96 This meant that the

plaintiffs’ claims were invalid, as they had already been decided by the District Court

ruling under Judge Chilson. This ruling was an utter defeat and was a terrible blow to

the morale of the already skeptical community, as well as the leaders of the Land

94 “Who is King of the Mountain?,” Denver Post Magazine, April 21, 1985. 95 Sanchez v. Taylor, 377 F. 2d 733, 746 (1967); The Tameling Decision, which is the ruling that was issued by the United States Supreme Court in Tameling v. U.S. Freehold Land and Emigration Co. said that the 1860 Congressional Confirmation was the starting point for the legal rights that were conveyed through the grants and that all rights previously exercised on grant lands were invalid, if not explicitly stated by the 1860 confirmation. 96 Rael v. Taylor No. 81CV5 (Costilla County Dist. Ct. September 22, 1986) (Judgment for Defendant on Motion for Judgment on the Pleadings or for Summary Judgment.); Golten, “Lobato v. Taylor,”475. The legal term res judicata refers to a “matter already decided upon” by an earlier judgment.

199

Rights Council. It would be more difficult than ever to sustain the movement in the

wake a legal defeat like this. But the LRC leaders refused to give up.

With the steadfast determination of the LRC leaders and members, the

movement survived the lean years that followed the 1986 ruling. The leaders and

their attorneys began the appeal process. They felt now that two courts had erred, for

they had proof that their rights had been violated. The majority of the community

went on with life as usual. Many remained unaware of what the “militants” and their

attorneys were up to. The community did take note in February of 1988, when they

learned of Jack Taylor’s death. The 1975 shooting incident had left him partially

crippled and unable to walk steadily, and in February 1988, he fell and hit his head.

As a result, he slipped into a coma and died a short time later. His son Zachary would

take over the family ranch and the family lawsuit. Once in charge, the younger

Taylor tried to smooth over relations with the locals. He attempted to decrease the

tensions between his family and the community, by meeting with local leaders and

extending opening the ranch—at designated times—to locals for free

woodgathering.97 He was not successful. Other factors would come into play and

would have a considerable effect on the region’s political atmosphere and, by

extension, on the struggle.

MORE SETBACKS: THE POACHING RAID AND THE COURT OF APPEALS DEFEAT

On March 5, 1989, 275 federal agents from the U.S. Division of Wildlife

assembled at Fort Carson Army Base near Colorado Springs. They had come

97 Johnston, The Taylor Ranch War, 140.

200

together from all parts of the country, and at 1:30 the next morning, they headed

south on I-25 and then west on Highway 160 into the San Luis Valley and parts of

northern New Mexico. At dawn, approximately 151 federal agents descended into

the sleepy community of San Luis with search warrants, arrest warrants and

documented proof that poaching had occurred. They targeted local hunters who had

violated federal poaching laws for personal gain. “Operation San Luis Valley” had

begun. This incident, referred to as “the poaching raid” by San Luis residents, fed the

historic suspicion and distrust that the locals of San Luis felt toward the American

government. Years after the fact, locals continued their harsh criticism of the

government, arguing that local hunters, seeking only to feed their families in a

depressed economy, were victims of entrapment. The raid left scars in the

community—deep wounds that would influence later relations with officials of the

state of Colorado.98

The raid was part of a larger effort by the Division of Wildlife. Years of

undercover surveillance work and planning preceded the raid, as a federal agent

posed as a taxidermist operating his business out of nearby Fort Garland. The agent

built a rapport with local hunters, making it known that he was in the business of

“buying ‘stuff’ from poachers.”99 In a period of two and a half years, the undercover

agent claimed to have purchased 96 whole animals and many more parts of animals

from local hunters, who had violated state laws protecting such wildlife. He also

claimed to have known about many more illegal sales, which did not involve him.

98 Shirley Romero-Otero, interview; Terry Grosz, The Thin Green Line: Outwitting Poachers, Smugglers and Market Hunters (Johnson Printing: Boulder, 2004), 155-160; “A Mountain of Trouble,” Westword, July 6, 1994. 99 Grosz, The Thin Green Line, 155-160.

201

Allegedly, many of these animals were hunted by residents of the San Luis

community—many upon the Taylor Ranch. Federal charges included sale, illegal

possession, closed-season take, over-limits, conspiracy, and violations of the federal

Endangered Species Act, Migratory Bird Treaty Act, and the Bald Eagle Protection

Act. The poached animals included bald eagles, elk, deer, bears, owls, and hawks.100

Just a couple hours into the actual raid, Governor Roy Romer’s phones rang

off their hooks, as many angry San Luis residents reported the brutal arrest tactics

used by the federal agents. Some described masked agents dressed in military

camouflage forcefully entering houses and dragging people out of bed, traumatizing

children and other family members in the process. Most of the callers cited the racial

nature of the interactions, suggesting that the excessive force used by the federal

agents was racially motivated.101 Despite such desperate phone calls, the raid

continued. In the end, 108 people were arrested and charged with violations, and 103

pled guilty.102

Long after “the poaching raid” ended, memories of it lingered. Activists

continued to justify not only their political resistance in their land rights struggle, but

also their deep suspicion of the State by continually referencing the poaching raid.

For them, the raid represented entrapment, as an undercover agent had lured

economically-strapped local hunters to participate in illegal hunting and sales.103 The

raid also offered yet another example of their community’s ill-treatment at the hands

100 Ibid., 156-160. 101 “Scores Arrested in Poaching Raid; 275 Agents Sweep San Luis, Taos Area,” Rocky Mountain News (Denver), March 7, 1989. See also chapter 5 in Terry Grosz, The Thin Green Line, especially 152-196; Shirley Romero-Otero, interview; Eugene Martinez, interview; Glenda Maes, interview. 102 Terry Grosz, The Thin Green Line, 196. 103 Shirley Romero-Otero, interview; Glenda Maes, interview, Eugene Martinez, interview.

202

of the American government—just one more incident in a long history of problematic

relations between their community and the State. The incident left a permanent scar

on relations between the community and the State of Colorado. The consequences of

this troubled relationship would surface in the mid-1990s, when officials from the

State of Colorado attempted to step in and help resolve the land rights conflict.104

CONCLUSION

Following the poaching raid, economic problems and out-migration patterns

continued to plague the San Luis community. Meanwhile, LRC attorneys and leaders

worked diligently on submitting their claims to the Court of Appeals, and in 1991, the

court issued its findings. The appeals court rejected the plaintiffs’ claims, stating that

the plaintiffs were bound by the 1965 District Court ruling.105 The LRC found itself

back at square one in their legal battle.

Despite the discouraging news from the Court of Appeals and the

demoralization caused by the State’s poaching raid, the LRC ended its first decade of

activism with a focused legal strategy, a dedicated ally in Jeff Goldstein, a foundation

of community support, and the backing of an effective leader in the local Catholic

Church. The LRC once again positioned itself to adjust its strategies to take

advantage of political and social changes that would surface in the 1990s.

Still inspired by the racial politics of the Chicano Movement, the LRC

maintained its identity as a Chicano organization, as it emerged from the 1991 court

defeat determined to take its case to the highest court in the State. The next phase in

104 These interactions will be addressed in chapter 5. 105 “State Appeals Court Upholds Case Dismissal,” The Pueblo Chieftain, December 7, 1991.

203

the movement, 1993-2002, would bring even more challenges, as the political

landscape became more complicated and the lure of compromise became more

tantalizing. The LRC, however, would remain steadfast in its ideology and its

strategy and would eventually emerge victorious.

204

CHAPTER 5

“THIS IS THE GREATEST VICTORY WE EVER HAD”:

THE ROAD TO SUCCESS, 1992-2002

On April 28, 1993, LRC attorney Jeff Goldstein stood before the State

Supreme Court, asking the High Court to reopen the Rael v. Taylor case. At the

urging of his Land Rights Council clients, as well as his own conscience, Goldstein

argued that the lower courts had erred in ruling against the plaintiffs. Perhaps the

strongest voice among them was that of a dying Apolinar Rael, who awaited the latest

on the case from his Alamosa nursing home. Rael, who swore he “would continue to

fight for the land until he died,” was in his mid-90s and was in the last months of his

life when Goldstein stood before the Court.1

Relying upon his earlier strategy, Goldstein encouraged LRC leaders to fill the

courtroom with supporters from the San Luis community. The justices could then see

the real people who were affected by this case. About 50 community members and

many more supporters of the lawsuit from throughout Colorado filled the courtroom,

many of them standing against the walls. A visibly impassioned Goldstein began his

argument, reminding the court of its historic commitment to upholding the national

Constitution. “This court has jealously guarded people’s due process rights,” he

stated. He then stated the intricacies of his argument. “If due process was denied

then the ruling is thrown out…these people should have had their day in court and

1 “Taylor Ranch feud heads for high court, “The Pueblo Chieftain, April 26, 1993; “Court hears Taylor land arguments,” The Pueblo Chieftain, April 29, 1993; “SLV land rights activist Jose Apolinar Rael dies,” The Pueblo Chieftain, July 7, 1993.

205

that judgment should be thrown out.” Goldstein then stated that Taylor only notified

about 15% of all property owners.2

Taylor’s attorney, Albert Wolf, countered those arguments. Wolf highlighted

the 16 years that had passed between the 1965 District Court ruling and the 1981

filing of Rael v. Taylor, arguing that his client was protected by statute of limitations.

He also questioned the validity of the plaintiffs’ supposed rights, arguing that “there

are no such rights.” Goldstein, in his response, argued that the 1863 Beaubien

Document legally guaranteed such rights, and that they were clearly stated in Taylor’s

deed, when he purchased the land. At the conclusion of the arguments, Justice Luis

Rovira said the case would be admitted and that the Court would issue its ruling once

it reviewed the evidence.3

The hearing before the State’s High Court ushered in the second part of the

Rael phase of the land rights struggle. That year, 1993, marked an important turning

point for the Land Rights Council, as Jeff Goldstein took the groups claims to the

highest court in the State. This act also signaled the beginning of an era during which

the LRC experienced some of its most pressing challenges. Some of these challenges

were familiar. For example, economic stagnation continued to ravage the

community, while periods of political apathy surfaced among locals who grew weary

of the lawsuit. Other challenges were new. The state government entered as a major

player in the land rights conflict, pushing an agenda of conciliation and compromise.

Meanwhile, local political factions created widespread dissension among community

members, dividing them along class and political lines. Despite these obstacles, the

2 “Taylor Ranch feud heads for high court, “The Pueblo Chieftain, April 26, 1993; “Court hears Taylor land arguments,” The Pueblo Chieftain, April 29, 1993. 3 “Court hears Taylor land arguments,” The Pueblo Chieftain, April 29, 1993.

206

LRC remained committed to its original objective as the political voice for the poor,

rural ranchers of San Luis. Perhaps more importantly, the LRC maintained its

commitment to nationalist politics. Its staunch insistence upon maintaining

community self-determination in its struggle—above all else—enabled the LRC to

avoid decisions and alliances that would have compromised its original goals and

ultimately the outcome of its movement.

The LRC employed three strategies that enabled it to successfully navigate the

increasingly turbulent political waters of the 1990s and to achieve legal victory in

2002. These strategies represent more continuity than change, though the LRC would

broaden them and assert them in more sophisticated ways. First, the LRC continued

its policy of coalitional politics. The group maintained its alliance with Jeff

Goldstein, who after 1994 recruited additional attorneys to work on the case. In

1996, the LRC expanded this coalitional strategy to include an alliance with a group

of white, upper-class environmentalists. This alliance surfaced at a critical moment in

the movement. While the alliance seemed uneasy at first, due to cultural and

economic differences, LRC leader Shirley Romero-Otero quickly saw the benefits of

such a coalition. She welcomed them into the community, knowing that their

presence would “open another front” in the struggle and would further the LRC’s

mission.

Second, the LRC maintained its nationalist rhetoric and militant politics, at a

time when the National Chicano Movement was fading from public memory. By the

mid-1990s, for many, the radicalism of the Chicano Movement was already in the

distant past—a vestige of a bygone, politically-charged era. In sustaining its

207

nationalist stance, the LRC positioned itself in opposition to groups that pursued a

moderate, compromise-based solution to the land rights problem. While at times, this

alienated LRC activists from the local “establishment,” the organization never

faltered in its militancy.

Finally, the LRC remained dedicated to its core set of principles throughout its

struggle, despite opportunities to compromise. Two of these core objectives stood

out. On one hand, it maintained its commitment to represent the voices and interests

of the poor residents of San Luis. From the start, this was a poor people’s movement.

In 1980, the LRC published a list of its objectives, which included its mission to

better the lives of “low-income people” in the community. In addition, its position as

a recipient of funds from the Catholic Church’s Campaign for Human Development

required that it “[b]enefit the poor…be directed by the low-income groups

themselves…[and] [attack] the root causes of poverty; unjust institutions, laws, or

policies which keep people poor.”4 On the other hand, the LRC remained dedicated

to defending the community’s traditional communal environmental ethic. The LRC

remained wary of and eventually steered clear of any “solution” to the land rights

problem that would compromise local management of the resources of La Sierra

and/or would threaten the ecological health of the mountain.

THE LURE OF COMPROMISE: KEN SALAZAR AND THE SANGRE DE CRISTO LAND GRANT COMMISSION

Following the Supreme Court hearing of 1993, in a short meeting with his

clients and their supporters, Goldstein estimated that the court would issue its ruling

4 La Merced, 3-4.

208

in about a month, though it could take up to six months.5 Meanwhile, the situation on

the ground was heating up. In early May, a three-story guest house on the Taylor

Ranch burned to the ground. The Colorado Bureau of Investigation and the Costilla

County Sheriff’s office investigated the fire and concluded that the blaze was

intentionally set. Further, the Costilla County District Attorney was looking at the

local community for suspects, since if it was indeed arson, the arsonist would had to

have known the terrain intimately. Although the D.A. did not directly say so, she

seemed to assume the fire was related to the land rights conflict between the locals

and the Taylor family.6

In spring 1993, Zachary Taylor announced his desire to sell his ranch, in order

to pay off inheritance taxes and to avoid more expensive litigation. Taylor courted an

Oregon lumber company as a potential buyer in the spring of 1993. A lumber

company would be detrimental to not only the use rights of the locals, but to the

ecological well-being of La Sierra, and LRC activists reacted accordingly. Taylor

used the opportunity to chastise the LRC for refusing to cooperate in a 1991 effort to

sell the land to the US Forest Service. The LRC’s insistence on pursuing the lawsuit,

back in 1991, rather than agreeing to negotiate with a governmental agency for use

rights, ended the deal with the Forest Service. LRC activist Maria Mondragon

Valdez felt as if “the Forest Service [was] being shoved down our throats.” She and

other LRC members had argued that if the Forest Service purchased the land, it would

only put a bureaucratic hurdle between them and La Sierra.7 With the poaching raid

5 “Court hears Taylor land arguments,” The Pueblo Chieftain, April 29, 1993. 6 “Arson likely in Taylor Ranch fire that leveled 3-story house,” The Pueblo Chieftain, May 14, 1993. 7 “Taylor Ranch sale falls through,” The Pueblo Chieftain, May 31, 1993.

209

just two years before the negotiations with the U.S. Forest Service, the LRC was not

even remotely prepared to put their rights in the hands of a government agency.

Perhaps it was the renewed range war, or perhaps, as political “insiders” had

suggested, it was Ken Salazar—Valley native and Executive Director of the Colorado

Department of Natural Resources—who prodded the Governor to take notice of the

land rights situation.8 Regardless of how it happened, the State did respond. In June

1993, Salazar arranged a meeting with San Luis locals, the LRC, and Jeff Goldstein.

The meeting was hosted by Father Pat in the parish hall. Salazar came to town to

hear the community’s side of the issue. He announced that he would be meeting with

Taylor next, to hear his side.9 Clearly, Salazar was on a mission to come up with a

solution to the land conflict that all could live with. Over 100 people attended the

meeting, and they communicated with him their desire to see the ranch “in public

hands,” preferably their own. Goldstein, beginning to show signs of impatience with

the courts, expressed his support for a state-sponsored solution. The courts, he

argued, left him with little hope for a legal victory, because the case involves “poor

people, local issues and Hispanic people against private property interests.” He told

the group that even if the courts ruled in their favor, there would still be the issue of

management of the land. Despite his apparent pessimism about the LRC’s chances

for legal victory, Goldstein did tell the group that if they lost in the State Supreme

Court, they would appeal to the United States Supreme Court.10

Land Rights Council activists were particularly vocal at the meeting, setting

the tone and making sure that Salazar clearly understood their position. “Our people

8 “Taylor Ranch: Lousy Value,” The Denver Post, February 16, 1997. 9 “Salazar hears Costilla residents’ side,” The Pueblo Chieftain, June 22, 1993. 10 Ibid.

210

belong to the land and the land belongs to the people,” announced Ray Otero, whose

gestures were almost threatening and whose rhetoric indicated that the LRC had not

abandoned its nationalist rhetoric. “This is the only place where the Mexicano people

have some power, some pride.” After all, Shirley Romoro-Otero declared, the

community had a right to the land, since “Taylor stole that mountain from the

people.” LRC activist Andres Montoya stood up and demanded that the community

not settle for anything less than full protection of its historic land rights. “We don’t

want seconds no more. We’ve had seconds enough.”11 Clearly, the LRC was not

intimidated by Salazar’s presence. In fact, its members welcomed the opportunity to

make their position heard, asserting themselves as the legitimate voice of their

community.

Romero-Otero also told Salazar that it was “ridiculous” to have the San Luis

community raise money to purchase La Sierra. She argued that it was the state’s

responsibility to come up with the funds to purchase the land, since the grassroots

people have time and again been ignored by interest groups with power and money

and by “‘politicos who continue to rip off the community.’” LRC activist Glenda

Maes echoed this stance, adding a plea to the audience to take action. “It’s your

duty,” she exclaimed, to seek justice.12 The LRC essentially co-opted this gathering,

using it not only to inform Salazar of their position, but to communicate their

message of activism to their fellow community members.

At the conclusion of the meeting, Salazar promised to draft an executive order

which would establish a state-led commission to explore various options for the

11 “San Luis residents want state to buy Mountain Tract,” The Pueblo Chieftain, June 24, 1993. 12 Ibid.

211

management of the contested landscape. Specifically, Salazar and the locals agreed

that the commission should look into possible funding sources for a state purchase of

the ranch, as well as plans for how the land could be used to generate sustainable

economic benefits for the community. They all agreed that it would be detrimental to

the community for the land to fall into private hands.13 With this, Salazar left San

Luis and began work on constructing a commission that would address the interests

of both the San Luis locals and the Taylor family.

On September 28, 1993, Governor Romer signed an Executive Order creating

the Sangre de Cristo Land Grant Commission, which was charged with resolving the

troublesome land conflict in San Luis. The idea for the Commission emerged out of a

series of discussions between attorney Jeff Goldstein, Ken Salazar, and Lt. Governor

Mike Callahan, who oversaw state relations with the Ute Indians. Representatives

from 18 federal, state, and local agencies comprised the commission. Eleven of those

organizations were from San Luis, representing the diverse voices and interests of the

small community. Salazar would be the chair of the commission.14

Local agencies included the Land Rights Council of San Luis, the La Sierra

Foundation, the Costilla County Board of Commissioners, the Conservancy District,

and the San Luis Economic Development Council. Father Pat Valdez also

participated and became a strong voice representing his parish and community. On

the state level, representatives hailed from the Colorado Legislature, the State

13 “Salazar hears Costilla residents’ side,” The Pueblo Chieftain, June 22, 1993; San Luis residents want state to buy Mountain Tract,” The Pueblo Chieftain, June 24, 1993. 14 “Romer Forms Panel to Resolve Land Grant Feud,” The Pueblo Chieftain, September 30, 1993; “Commission report on Taylor Ranch expected in January,” The Pueblo Chieftain, December 22, 1993; Jeff Goldstein, interview. Goldstein made contact with Mike Callahan and Ken Salazar and, believing the LRC would lose their case before the Colorado Supreme Court, he wanted to explore the possibilities of a state purchase with a guarantee granting the locals use of the mountain.

212

Division of Wildlife, the Colorado Historical Society, the Division of Parks and

Outdoor Recreation, the Great Outdoors Colorado Fund (lottery funds manager) and

the Department of Natural Resources. The U.S. Forest Service and National Parks

Service attended to represent the federal government.15

The formation of the Sangre de Cristo Land Grant Commission was certainly

a watershed moment for the LRC. For one, it signaled an important change in

Colorado’s political climate. Ken Salazar’s presence in the Governor’s cabinet

reflected the increasing power and influence of Latino voices in state government—a

trend further reflected by his ability to help make the primarily Latino issue a priority

of the Governor. Certainly the San Luis Valley land rights issue was dear to Salazar’s

heart. The Commission’s founding also represented the power of the LRC’s political

activism. Attorney Jeff Goldstein, acting on behalf of his LRC clients, encouraged

the state leaders to explore policy solutions, while on the grassroots level, LRC

efforts to keep the issue alive in the public eye undoubtedly helped to convince

government officials to address the issue.

The Commission constituted a fragile political coalition that would attempt to

address an emotionally and politically-charged issue that had plagued the region for

three decades. In the words of Governor Roy Romer, the Taylor Ranch could “be a

nationally significant model of collaborative management for the protection and

enjoyment of natural resources, enhancing our appreciation of the relationship

15 “Romer Forms Panel to Resolve Land Grant Feud,” The Pueblo Chieftain, September 30, 1993.

213

between land and people.” He emphasized that the conclusion of the land conflict

would benefit all citizens of Colorado.16

The Commission held its first meeting in October of 1993, in the San Luis

parish hall. About 50 locals attended, along with the 22 commission members.

During the meeting, a diverse set of voices expressed their views about how the land

should be managed. Tom Macy of the national Conservation Fund explained that

“pure preservation” was a thing of the past and that the community should be

prepared for using the land in a sustainable manner to generate economic benefit.

The State Representatives suggested that federal funding be sought for the purchase

of the land.17 Surely the commission’s biggest challenge was going to be finding a

solution that all these groups could accept. The Costilla County Conservancy

District would be one such group.

During the summer of 1993, the Costilla County Conservancy District

announced its plans to work toward local ownership of La Sierra. The CCCD was

formed in 1975, as a local, quasi-government body, to “protect and conserve water

sources and systems within the District,” when forces threatened the survival of the

community’s unique and environmentally sustainable acequia system. The

organization had a formidable record, having successfully fended off the State of

Colorado’s “attempt to condemn half of Costilla County’s water rights due to alleged

abandonment.” Its leaders also fought off a Texas energy company that wanted to

16 “Romer Forms Panel to Resolve Land Grant Feud,” The Pueblo Chieftain, September 30, 1993; “State will be first in line to buy Taylor Ranch,” The Pueblo Chieftain, December 30, 1993. 17 “SLV residents study ways to buy Taylor Ranch,” The Pueblo Chieftain, October 19, 1993.

214

extract water from their county.18 Now, the District wanted to find a way for the

locals to acquire La Sierra.

The District’s plan initially received support from community members. The

LRC voted unanimously to endorse the plan on March 31, 1993.19 Father Pat also

issued a letter of support for the District’s efforts to “return La Sierra to the use of the

people.”20 In light of this community support, the District and Father Pat began

planning to create a separate organization to raise the funds necessary to purchase the

land, as well as to determine how it would be managed. The result of their efforts

was La Sierra Foundation.21

That summer, the District hired a recent transplant to San Luis to run the new

organization. Robert Kino Green was from Denver, and he had studied for a time at a

Denver seminary. He and his family moved to San Luis, where he did not expect to

find a job, at least so soon. Green had always loved the San Luis area, and had

decided to settle his family in the community. When he received the call from

Martinez, he accepted the invitation to head up the new La Sierra Foundation.22

Green led the La Sierra Foundation through some extremely turbulent waters at a

particularly eventful time in the history of the land rights struggle, and he found

himself butting heads often with Land Rights Council activists. Although the two

organizations had initially espoused support for the community’s purchase of the

mountain, they soon became rivals—each with its own vision for the San Luis

18 “Position Paper,” La Sierra Foundation of San Luis. 19 Meeting Minutes, Land Rights Council, March 31, 1993, San Luis, Colorado, Personal Papers of Marianne L. Stoller, Colorado Springs, CO. 20 Father Pat Valdez to Costilla County Conservancy District, August 3, 1993, Personal Papers of Marianne L. Stoller, Colorado Springs, CO. 21 “Position Paper,” La Sierra Foundation of San Luis. 22 Robert Kino Green, interview.

215

community and its struggle to regain access to La Sierra. Each group also came to

represent a slightly different constituency, although both claimed to represent the

community.

At the first meeting of La Sierra Foundation, in October 1993, Maclovio

Martinez, co-founder of La Sierra Foundation, county assessor and head of the

Costilla County Conservancy District, introduced what he and his constituents

believed would be La Sierra Foundation’s role in the collaborative plan to purchase

and manage the Taylor Ranch land. Key players in La Sierra Foundation included

Martinez, Bob Green, Father Pat, and other members of the San Luis community.

The group’s purposes were to “educate the general public” about the effort to

purchase the land, to “generate revenue needed to make this dream come true,” and to

“formulate a management plan that is environmentally sound while responsive to

local needs and the needs of all.” The overall objectives included the protection of

the watershed and the “pristine wilderness” of the land, as well as the reclamation of

the historic land rights of the San Luis community. He invited all those interested in

human rights and environmental preservation to join the Foundation.23 While the

vision seemed compatible with that of the LRC, it became clear that La Sierra

Foundation would take the lead in the project.

Martinez’ proposal immediately raised the eyebrows of those commission

members with allegiances to the Land Rights Council, and the first fissures in the

23 “Letter from La Sierra Foundation to Sangre de Cristo Land Grant Commission,” October 14, 1993, included in “Position Paper for La Sierra Foundation of San Luis, Sponsored by the Costilla County Conservancy District; “SLV residents study ways to buy Taylor Ranch,” The Pueblo Chieftain, October 19, 1993.

216

coalition surfaced.24 Even the politicians, who had seemed so enthusiastic about the

coming together of all these voices thought that Martinez was jumping the gun and

taking over political territory that was already claimed by the LRC. Commission

members viewed Martinez’ actions with doubt, knowing their own coalition was

fragile. While there were initial commonalities between the goals of the LRC and

those of La Sierra Foundation, the stage was set for an ongoing conflict between the

Land Rights Council and the La Sierra Foundation, as LRC leaders remained much

more skeptical of the motives of both the La Sierra Foundation and the government

officials. LRC members viewed Martinez and La Sierra Foundation as representing

the more elite voices in the community. Surely, Martinez’ position as County

Assessor set him apart from the majority of the LRC members, who included poor

ranchers and farmers, as well as disgruntled veterans and lifetime activists.

After two months of consideration, the Governor’s Commission released its

plan on December 28, 1993. The report recommended that the State of Colorado and

the community enter into a unique collaborative endeavor between state and local

officials, which would serve as a model for others. Specifically, the Commission

recommended that the Conservation Fund, a national environmental foundation,

purchase the land and “convey the fee title to the state and a perpetual easement for

access to La Sierra Foundation and Land Trust.” In addition, the commission

proposed that most of the land serve as a state wildlife area open to anglers and

hunters, while part of the land would be managed as a state park.25

24 “A Mountain of Trouble—Part 1 of 2,” Westword, July 6, 1994; Shirley Romero-Otero, interview. 25 “State eyes Taylor Ranch purchase,” The Pueblo Chieftain, January 5, 1994; “State will be first in line to buy Taylor Ranch,” The Pueblo Chieftain, December 30, 1993.

217

The recommendation most appealing to the San Luis activists was the

commission’s proposal that the San Luis community be given access to the land to

exercise their historic land rights—to hunt, fish, graze animals, and gather wood. The

Commission stated that La Sierra Foundation and Land Trust would guarantee the

community’s access to the land by purchasing a permanent stake in the land—a

perpetual easement—which would preserve the community’s rights indefinitely. The

easement would make explicit the “undisputed ownership” of the “historic,

noncommercial rights” of the San Luis community. The Commission estimated that

La Sierra Foundation would have to come up with about $3 million to purchase the

easement. Some commission members speculated that the Conservation Fund would

help solicit this money from philanthropic and environmental organizations, or from

foundations like Ford or Forbes. In addition, the Commission highlighted five state

agencies that might be able to contribute to the purchase of the land. These included

the Division of Wildlife, the Great Outdoors Colorado fund, the State Division of

Parks and Outdoor Recreation, the Colorado Historical Society, and the Department

of Local Affairs.26

Despite LRC skepticism, the La Sierra Foundation began its media blitz

immediately. The organization founded La Sierra, a newspaper that would serve as

its main form of communication and solicitation of support within the local

community, as well as among non-local subscribers. The first issue, dated Spring

1994, contained numerous articles promoting the La Sierra Foundation’s role in the

State-purchase plan. Articles such as “La Sierra Tract: A Key Link in the Landscape

of the Southern Rockies,” “Could this be our last chance?” and “Community unites to 26 “State eyes Taylor Ranch purchase,” The Pueblo Chieftain, January 5, 1994.

218

save land, water, and a way of life in the heart of the Southwest” sat alongside photos

of 19th century San Luis settlers and poems exalting the historic conservation

practices of the locals. La Sierra’s major theme centered on environmental

conservation as the major motivation for the Foundation to partner with government

agencies to purchase the mountain from Taylor.27 The organization was thus

distinguishing itself from the LRC, who identified itself, through its publications,

with social justice, civil rights, and self-determination. Throughout its history, the

La Sierra Foundation would ally itself with government agencies and mainstream

environmental groups, like the Sierra Club and the San Luis Audubon Society,

whereas the LRC would ally itself with individuals and groups who challenged such

“establishment” organizations.

Over time, it became clear that the Foundation and the LRC represented

different approaches to the land rights problem, and these differences did not sit well

with most LRC members, particularly the most militant leaders. The LRC’s attorney,

however, continued to see the situation a bit differently. With still no ruling from the

State Supreme Court, Goldstein remained more open to the idea of partnering with

state agencies to purchase La Sierra.28

While state officials and local leaders hashed out their plans to proceed with a

state purchase, Zachary Taylor was courting another potential buyer. Tim Blixeth,

owner of a Montana lumber company, had indicated that he was willing to pay up to

$15 million for the land. While this was only $3 million above the initial offer from

the state, Taylor found Blixeth’s offer attractive, since he could offer cash

27 La Sierra, Spring 1994—Premier Issue, San Luis, Colorado 28 Jeff Goldstein, interview.

219

immediately. The state, on the other hand, could take months to come up with the

money from the various government entities.29 The commission had to hustle in

order to remain competitive. Yet, the commission also realized it had to get the

support of the majority of the people of Colorado.

In early January 1994, the Commission organized three hearings across the

state to gauge public opinion and to attempt to increase public support for its plan.

Division of Wildlife officials conducted these hearings—in Denver, Pueblo, and

Alamosa. LRC attorney Jeff Goldstein attended the first, held in Pueblo, where about

1/3 of the audience had roots in San Luis, and where support for the state plan was

overwhelming, though the audience had many questions and concerns. Goldstein

stated that if the La Sierra Foundation were to raise the necessary money to purchase

the rights, the LRC would drop the lawsuit.30 This would be a statement that would

become increasingly controversial in LRC circles. The general public support for the

Commission’s plan in all three locations gave participants hope that they were on the

right track.31

Goldstein began to express publicly his fatigue at the unresponsiveness of the

courts, and it seemed as though the case was going nowhere. It had been 18 months

since the Supreme Court agreed to hear the case, and he believed that, at this stage in

the suit, the Governor’s Sangre de Cristo Land Grant Commission offered a better

alternative than the courts. However, he argued that the Commission, the community,

and the State should demand another appraisal of the land before negotiating a final

29 “Official: State needs option to buy ranch,” The Pueblo Chieftain, January 6, 1994; “Logger offers new ranch plan,” The Denver Post, January 4, 1994. 30 “Public backs state purchase of the ranch,” The Pueblo Chieftain, January 6, 1994. 31 “The Taylor Ranch: Valley residents are optimistic state can buy spread,” The Pueblo Chieftain, January 16, 1994.

220

price with Taylor, who was asking $32 million at the time. The current appraisal

stood at $21 million, while the state commission was set to offer $12 million,

believing the original appraisal was too high.32

That spring, Ken Salazar and other Commission officials remained optimistic

that they could “resolve this 120-year-old range war, while they continued to work

out the logistics of the public purchase of the Taylor ranch.”33 The process of

coordinating a number of state agencies along with local grassroots groups proved

challenging, especially with LRC activists scrutinizing the commissioners’ every

move. As chair of the board of the Great Outdoors Colorado Trust, Salazar easily got

approval for the Trust to fund up to $4 million for the purchase of the land with state

lottery funds.34 It seemed to outside observers that the sale was on its way to fruition.

The price, however, remained a sticking point. Taylor wanted no less than $21

million, though he was willing to consider the $12 million state offer because Salazar

emphasized that Taylor would enjoy big tax credits if he did sell to the state at a

discount.35

LRC activists reacted strongly. They knew they still had a case in the courts,

and they remembered the tumultuous history of conflict between their people and the

State. LRC president Charlie Jaquez responded to the public accolades regarding

Salazar’s plan and Goldstein’s statement that the LRC would be willing to drop the

suit if the state purchased the land and gave them their rights. Responding to 32 “Taylor Ranch lawsuit moves slowly through state’s courts,” The Pueblo Chieftain, January 7, 1994. 33 “Commission report on Taylor Ranch expected in January,” The Pueblo Chieftain, December 22, 1993. 34 “GO board favors funding for Taylor Ranch purchase, The Pueblo Chieftain, January 12, 1994; “Commission report on Taylor Ranch expected in January,” The Pueblo Chieftain, December 22, 1993. 35 “The Taylor Ranch: Valley residents are optimistic state can buy spread,” The Pueblo Chieftain, January 16, 1994.

221

Goldstein’s off-the-cuff remark, Jaquez declared that the LRC board had not made a

decision yet, and neither had the plaintiffs, so any celebration would be premature.

“If we had those rights and they were written down, and we had them for perpetuity,

then we probably would drop the lawsuit.” Jaquez realized that the LRC held power.

As long as the group refused to drop the lawsuit, the price of the ranch would remain

low.36 He also realized that the LRC needed to hold onto the suit in order to continue

to articulate the nature of the community’s historic land rights, so the Commission

would not compromise any aspect of those rights in their attempts to orchestrate a

solution. Jaquez was unwilling to concede any of the LRC’s power. Jaquez also

made clear that the LRC was the “owner” of the suit and that it had the authority to

drop the suit, since all plaintiffs signed a waiver allowing the LRC Board of Directors

to represent them. Emphasizing the LRC’s position as “owner” of the suit allowed

Jaquez to underscore the role of the LRC as the voice of the San Luis community.

Other LRC activists were less diplomatic in their responses to Goldstein’s

comments. In fact, Shirley Romero-Otero, Eugene Martinez, Adolfo Lobato, and

Glenda Maes—all the most radical voices of the LRC—crashed one of the meetings

between Goldstein, Salazar, and members of the La Sierra Foundation. Goldstein

was attending on behalf of the LRC, but activist members of the LRC had not been

invited to attend. The agenda was likely focused on the possibility of the LRC

dropping the lawsuit in favor of a compromise solution. When Romero-Otero and the

other three activists walked in, jaws dropped. The LRC activists chastised Goldstein.

“If you don’t believe in the case, fine, step aside. We’re not dropping the case, we’ll

36 Ibid.

222

see it to the end.”37 That would be the beginning of the end of the LRC’s negotiations

with the State. At that point, the LRC’s relations with the state officials and with La

Sierra Foundation took a turn for the worse.

While it had shown signs of weakness for weeks, on February 5, 1994,

Salazar’s coalition began to crumble. That morning, about 40 individuals from State

and Federal agencies descended upon San Luis in vans and helicopters. They all had

some tie to the state purchase plan and were in town to tour the contested landscape,

and their mood was giddy with optimism and excitement, as they talked about the

benefits of making the La Sierra landscape a State park. Not everyone shared in their

excitement, however. Their mannerisms, their dress, and their conversations gave

their “outsider” status away. Their overbearing presence, specifically their helicopter

tours of the land, offended locals whose memories of the March 1989 poaching

raid—during which federal agents descended upon their community in helicopters

and vans and arrested 108 locals—were still vivid and painful. Despite local

resentment at their presence, particularly among LRC activists, the state officials

remained focused on the beauty of the landscape and the excitement at the prospect of

making it public land.38 The surface mood was optimistic, but underneath LRC

resentment was growing.

LRC activist Maria Mondragon-Valdez was one of the most vocal critics of

the Commission’s tour of the Ranch. She called the entire operation a “fiasco,” a

“circus,” in which a bunch of “yuppies” in their bright parkas and with their fancy

37 Shirley Romero-Otero, interview. 38 “A Mountain of Trouble—Part I and Part 2” Westword, July 6, 1994; “La Sierra being reborn: Proposed Taylor Ranch buy has ‘em seeing stars,” The Pueblo Chieftain, February 14, 1994; Salazar optimistic about state purchase of the Taylor Ranch, The Denver Post, February 6, 1994.

223

cameras, barged into their community without respect for local history and culture.

She alluded to the raid and the role of helicopters, but she also alluded to the longer

history of bad relations between Costilla County and the State. It had become

apparent to most that the fissures in Salazar’s coalition were deepening.39

In addition to local dissension, the Commission was also encountering

criticism from within, as well as from the broader state government and public.

Division of Wildlife officials expressed concern over the deal, which seemed rushed;

however, they found themselves powerless as political pressure was mounting. Other

officials from environmental agencies throughout the state listed the many

disadvantages of a state purchase, citing a potential wild-life management disaster

and expressing dismay at the “extreme haste” with which the deal was being

fashioned. Some suggested that a better idea would be to have the La Sierra

Foundation purchase the tract entirely with donated funds.40 The larger public

expressed concern that state funds would be used to purchase “special rights” for a

group of Hispanics in Costilla County.41 On March 16, negotiations between the

State and the Taylor family fell through, when the state fell $15 million short of the

price demanded by Taylor.42

Frustrated by a number of factors--Taylor’s rejection of the State’s offer; the

Commission’s cultural insensitivity, as evidenced by their helicopter tours of the

region; Goldstein’s “chummy” relationship with Salazar and the State, which they

believed to be selling out the LRC’s interests; and the La Sierra Foundation’s

39 Ibid. 40 “Questions must be answered about Taylor Ranch sale,” The Denver Post, February 13, 1994. 41 “High-stakes deal not without some drawbacks,” The Denver Post, January 5, 1994. 42 “Rock Wall,” The Pueblo Chieftain, March 18, 1994; “State, Taylor miles apart on ranch sale price,” The Pueblo Chieftain, March 17, 1994.

224

willingness to settle for a compromise solution—LRC activists called a special

meeting on March 19, 1994. During the meeting, leaders explained the current

situation to the public and discussed other options. Maria Mondragon-Valdez

described Taylor’s refusal to budge on price as “reflective of the historic quagmire we

have found ourselves in the Southwest…the absentee landlord and the vulnerable

local residents.” LRC leaders invited a Hawaiian studies expert, Haunani Trafk, to

discuss the parallels between land issues in the Valley and those affecting native

peoples in Hawaii. They also invited well-known lawyer Bruce Ellison to speak

about his experiences assisting the Lakota Sioux with their land struggles in the Black

Hills.43 Clearly, the LRC was attempting to regroup in the face of challenges to its

position as legitimate voice of the San Luis community. Such challenges came from

the Commission, the La Sierra Foundation, and their own attorney, who they felt was

straying from the LRC position. Additionally, by inviting Trafk and Ellison to speak,

the LRC consciously maintained their ties to groups that shared their history of racial

oppression.

The LRC met again on March 26 to discuss its position in regard to the

Governor’s Commission. The general atmosphere was one of anger and frustration at

the Commission’s lack of communication with the local community. LRC activists

conveyed their frustration with the Commission’s activities. “If you steal something

from me, I’m not gonna buy it back,” Ray Otero announced during an LRC

meeting.44 Gloria Maestas, daughter of Apolinar Rael, and Glenda Maes expressed a

43 “State, Taylor miles apart on ranch sale price,” The Pueblo Chieftain, March 17, 1994; Shirley Romero-Otero, interview; Jeff Goldstein, interview. 44 “The Battle of La Sierra: Locals hope the good ol’days of the ‘60s—the 1860s that is—are coming back to San Luis, Colorado,” In These Times, October 28, 2002.

225

view common among LRC members, who recalled the long history of mistreatment

of their community at the hands of the State. “[We] don’t want the state running us.

We have already had an example of the state mistreating Mexicanos,” Maestas said,

referring to the 1989 poaching raid. She also questioned the entire premise of La

Sierra Foundation’s efforts to raise money to purchase an easement. “Why should we

buy back something that is not ours?” She referenced her late father who always said

that it was the community’s responsibility to protect, not own, the mountain, with

rights granted under the 1848 Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo. Quoting her father, she

said, “The mountain is not ours, the rights are given to us, but the mountain belongs

to God.”45 The war over ideology was in full swing.

Eugene Martinez added his concern that any LRC involvement in or support

of the La Sierra Foundation was “a contradiction of LRC philosophy and purpose.”

Maria Mondragon-Valdez stated that the Commission had not met for two months,

which led many to believe it did not have local interests at heart. The meeting ended

with a motion that the LRC withdraw from the La Sierra Foundation and from the

Governor’s Commission. The group carried the motion. By the end of the meeting,

the LRC had also withdrawn its support for Maclovio Martinez’ Conservancy

District. Further, President Charlie Jaquez agreed to resign from his position as the

LRC representative on the Commission. He also announced his intention to officially

withdraw his support for the La Sierra Foundation’s plan to manage the Mountain

tract once it was public land. In fact, the LRC made it quite clear that it did not want

its name associated with any fund-raising activities led by the La Sierra Foundation.

45 “Taylor Ranch deal dims,” The Pueblo Chieftain, March 30, 1994.

226

Mondragon-Valdez hinted that she, too, planned to resign from the Commission.46

While the break between the two organizations had been evident for months, the vote

made it official. No longer able to tolerate the conciliatory politics of La Sierra

Foundation, the LRC made its exit.

By early spring, the LRC had begun taking steps toward formally distancing

itself from the La Sierra Foundation, explicitly stating philosophical differences. The

activists could no longer, in good conscience, engage in a collaboration that they felt

violated their principles. They could not ally with groups willing to concede rights

that they felt were legally theirs.

It was not long before the feud between the LRC and the La Sierra Foundation

spilled over from meeting rooms and newspapers into the streets. LRC women led a

grassroots charge against the La Sierra Foundation, engaging in civil disobedience

activities aimed at derailing the Foundation’s efforts to raise funds to purchase the

mountain, which the Foundation then planned to manage. For months, Mondragon-

Valdez, Maes, and Maestas sent hate mail to Bob Green, who was spearheading the

La Sierra Foundation’s fundraising efforts and also serving as head of the

Conservancy District, an entity closely tied to the Foundation. They called him an

outsider and a “Novaccio,” and warned him to “get out of town” and to “watch your

back.” The three also thwarted his organization’s mass mailing fundraising drive.

Green, Maclovio Martinez, and Father Pat—himself a fervent supporter of the

Foundation—had assembled and labeled mass mailings to all Costilla County

property owners, soliciting donations from them to purchase the Taylor Ranch. They

46 “Taylor Ranch deal dims,” The Pueblo Chieftain, March 30, 1994; Meeting minutes, March 26, 1994, Land Rights Council of San Luis, San Luis, Colorado, Personal Papers of Marianne L. Stoller, Colorado Springs, Colorado.

227

had assembled about 80,000 mailings in the parish hall, which they prepared to mail

the next day. That night, the three LRC activists allegedly broke into the hall and

stole all of the mailings.47

Relations between the two groups continued to decline. When the Foundation

publicly announced the kick-off of an intensive fundraising campaign and began to

publish a local newspaper dedicated to communicating with the public, LRC activists

spoke out against the organization more fervently, as it appeared that the group was in

competition for influence in the community. LRC activist Mondragon-Valdez

publicly criticized the La Sierra Foundation’s fund-raising campaign, calling it

“reckless” and “premature.” She also criticized the Foundation’s reliance on support

from Colorado College professor Devon Peña, whom she accused of lying about the

financial status of the Foundation. In addition, she attacked the Foundation for listing

her name as a policy-making member, when in fact the board had denied her such a

role. Such criticisms likely helped to derail the Foundation’s grant proposal to the

Catholic Church’s Campaign for Human Development, in which they sought

$50,000.48

The CHD proposal was likely headed for failure for another reason, which

LRC members used to their advantage in their public criticisms of the Foundation.

Mondragon-Valdez was the only member of the 10-person Foundation board who

met the CHD’s low-income criteria. CHD requirements say that over half of the 47 Robert Kino Green, interview; “Fund-drive to buy Taylor ranch called reckless, premature,” The Pueblo Chieftain, April 24, 1994; Green died before I could call him to clarify the meaning of Novacchio. From the context of my interview with him, I think it means “outsider.” 48 “Fund-drive to buy Taylor ranch called reckless, premature,” The Pueblo Chieftain, April 24, 1994; Devon Peña, “La Sierra Foundation de San Luis: Reviving the Chicano Land Grant Struggle,” Race, Poverty and the Environment, (Fall 1993/Winter 1994): 8-10. In his article, Devon Peña claims that the “La Sierra Foundation has raised close to $6 million from national private foundations towards the purchase of the Taylor Ranch…”

228

members of the groups that receive their funding must be low income.49 Clearly, the

La Sierra Foundation did not qualify.

LRC members capitalized on the class composition of the Foundation,

accusing it of being elitist and out of touch with the reality experienced by most

residents of the San Luis community—and thus not a legitimate voice of the

community. LRC activists accused the La Sierra Foundation of being a group of

“Main Street developers and politicians” who were out-of-touch and were “making

decisions for people up in the hills” and saw dollar signs which fueled their

negotiations with the State.50 They accused La Sierra Foundation of selling out the

local community, in their quest for economic development from the outside, even

though the group espoused conservation of the land. They believed that the La Sierra

Foundation was governed purely by economic motives and that they saw the

mountain as a revenue source and wanted to milk it for all they could in their quest to

create an “empire.”51

Mondragon-Valdez condemned the Foundation’s willingness to bring in

outsiders, whether they be the State or private entities, whose political and/or self-

interests would govern their actions. She feared the changes that “gentrification” and

“amenity tourism” would bring to the community in the forms of “trailer hook-ups,

burger places, mountain bike shops, [and] real estate speculators.” Essentially, she

and other LRC members criticized the La Sierra Foundation for not defending the

cultural identity and traditions of the San Luis community. As a group devoted to

winning back their people’s historic land rights, the LRC became increasingly wary

49 “Fund-drive to buy Taylor ranch called reckless, premature,” The Pueblo Chieftain, April 24, 1994. 50 “A Mountain of Trouble—Part 2,” Westword, July 6, 1994; Shirley Romero-Otero, interview. 51 “A Mountain of Trouble—Part 1,” Westword, July 6, 1994.

229

of the Foundation’s support for turning the Ranch into a State park, since that would

bring in a set of regulations—involving for example, curfews and alcohol bans—that

would clash with local ideas of recreation. 52

Activist and plaintiff Gene Martinez voiced a distinctly LRC view when he

railed against outside developers. Martinez’s open defiance of the restrictions and

“No Trespassing” signs barring locals from the mountain had become his trademark.

On many occasions Martinez—a military veteran and resident of the village of San

Francisco--publicly boasted of using the mountain. “Who would catch me? I know

every nook and cranny of those hills. I grew up there. That’s my backyard.”

Martinez urged his fellow LRC activists to fight against the kind of “yuppie”

development that would bring in hordes of “yuppie tourists”—the kind of

development that LRC activists believed the La Sierra Foundation supported. He

recalled that in 1956, when he graduated from high school in Taos, the town was

similar to San Luis. But then the developers moved in and relegated all the Indians to

a little pueblo—“a little zoo”—and introduced them to “alcoholism, to drugs, to

AIDS” and destroyed their way of life. Martinez wanted to prevent such tourist

development from destroying San Luis. “I’m not keen on seeing a big bus over here

with a bunch of tourists looking at me like I’m a monkey or something.”53 Martinez’

vocal resistance reinforced the LRC’s claim to legitimacy as defender of the

community’s struggle to win their rights back, while conceding nothing in terms of

unwanted development or loss of culture.

52 “A Mountain of Trouble—Part 2,” Westword, July 6, 1994. 53 “A Mountain of Trouble—part 2,” The Denver Post, July 6, 1994; Eugene Martinez, interview.

230

The leaders of the La Sierra Foundation fired back. They accused the LRC of

being a group of “left-leaning radicals” with “unrealistic expectations of winning

back the mountain for an exclusive group of settlers.” Maclovio Martinez criticized

the LRC for pushing an agenda that refused to support any development whatsoever

and thus would end up hurting everyone in the county. He emphasized the need to

work with State and private entities that would assist the community in achieving its

goals of regaining access to the mountain.54 LRC leaders saw this as a sell-out, a

compromise, a loss of self-determination that was so vital to them. Certainly

Martinez’ accusations that the LRC was “left-leaning” and “radical” were intended to

be an insult and to de-legitimize the group in a community wary of “radicals”;

however, “radical” was a label that many of the activists embraced. Many felt that

merely by filing the lawsuit, the LRC was making a radical move, that by its very

existence, the organization was radical and that anything less than radical would not

be worth pursuing.55

With the community seemingly hopelessly divided, Father Pat attempted to

calm the waters, arguing that the bitter rivalry between the two groups had become

detrimental to the entire struggle. Father Pat argued that it was possible to support

both the lawsuit and the fundraising efforts of the Foundation and that indeed it was

healthy to offer the public two alternatives. He himself was a founding member of

the La Sierra Foundation and had thrown local parish support behind the group’s

fundraising efforts. His history of open support for the Foundation and his

54 “A Mountain of Trouble—part 1,” The Denver Post, July 6, 1994.; The “exclusive group of settlers” was likely a reference to the fact that any favorable court ruling would favor only those landowners who were not named and served in the 1961 lawsuit, Taylor v. Jaquez. 55 Glenda Maes, interview; Eugene Martinez, interview.

231

“collusion” with “outsiders” prevented his conciliatory remarks from having any

positive influence with the LRC.

In fact, the LRC openly criticized his actions. While the LRC had enjoyed the

support of the popular priest, they had in recent months become increasingly critical

of his efforts to work with the Governor’s Commission and the Foundation to buy the

land. Some LRC activists felt that Father Pat had taken on an inappropriate role. In

fact, tensions between the factions erupted when LRC activists openly criticized

Father Pat’s compliance with outside interests during a meeting between the LRC, the

La Sierra Foundation, and Ken Salazar in 1994. When Gene Martinez, then an LRC

board member, began to speak, Father Pat immediately told him to tone down what

he was saying. Martinez turned to Father Pat and said, “…all due respect, Father.

You are the parish priest and we respect you as such, but that’s all you are. You’re

not a plaintiff. You’re not an heir, and you have no business telling me what to think

about my land, my history.”56

LRC members refused to follow blindly behind their spiritual leader,

particularly when they felt he was selling out their best interests. What the priest did

not understand, or perhaps what he did not want to address was the ideological divide

that existed in his community in regard to the land struggle. The divide was as much

a difference of ideas about land as it was about class divisions that some LRC

members felt that the church was perpetuating. Many saw the priest as siding with

the more affluent voices in the community—those voices who held powerful local

political offices.57 This class critique mirrored the widening rift between the LRC

56 Glenda Maes, interview. 57 Glenda Maes, interview; Eugene Martinez, interview.

232

and La Sierra Foundation, as LRC members had accused La Sierra Foundation of

representing the interests of politicos and the more economically-advantaged

members of the community. Meanwhile, the LRC professed to represent the poor

people of the community.

The divide between the LRC and both the La Sierra Foundation and the

Governor’s Commission showed no signs of narrowing, which led the LRC to make

its withdrawal from the Commission public. They made this announcement in the

papers and to Ken Salazar in April 1994. Soon thereafter, Ken Salazar, who had

meanwhile resigned his position in Romer’s cabinet and had gone into private law

practice, expressed to LRC attorney Jeff Goldstein his disappointment at the LRC’s

departure. He stated that the LRC had been an extremely important voice in the

commission and that he wanted to meet with the LRC in order to discuss future

options.58 Clearly, Salazar saw the LRC as vital to the process of solving the land

rights conflict, but perhaps more importantly, he saw it as an impediment to any deal

between the State and the community.

Goldstein was out of the country when the LRC voted to defect, so upon his

return he faxed an urgent letter to the LRC Board. He had sensed that such an abrupt

departure from the Commission would be politically damaging for the LRC,

especially because the media would seize upon the divisions within the community.

His letter addressed two main issues. First, it encouraged Board members to send a

letter explaining their action to all plaintiffs and setting a general membership

meeting to answer any questions. Such a public explanation would clarify the LRC’s

58 Ken Salazar, Denver, CO, to Jeff Goldstein, Denver, CO, April 12, 1994, Personal Papers of Marianne L. Stoller, Colorado Springs, Colorado.

233

differences with the La Sierra Foundation, so that the media would not paint the LRC

as “a disruptive element” with no clear agenda. The LRC should emphasize its role

as having always led the effort to regain the land rights of the people.59 Essentially,

he was encouraging his clients to defend their role as the legitimate voice of the

resistance and of the community, but to do so in a respectful, professional manner.

Second, in light of recent stinging criticisms by LRC members of his

“chummy” conversations with State officials, his presence at the Colorado Legislative

Committee Session, and his meeting with the man hired to appraise the Taylor Ranch,

Goldstein defended his actions and his role as their attorney. “I have been able to

expose, if not prevent, certain efforts that are inconsistent with democratic

participation by the people effected [sic] by the process.”60 Goldstein thus defined his

role in the struggle as being a defender of the people, even if that duty required him,

at times, to negotiate with entities deemed by the LRC as threats to their autonomy.

“DUE PROCESS APPLIES TO POOR PEOPLE”: THE 1994 SUPREME COURT RULING

Soon, however, everything changed. On May 2, 1994, the Colorado Supreme

Court broke its long silence in the Rael v. Taylor case. In a 4-3 ruling that stunned

even the most optimistic supporters of the LRC, the Court reopened the case, kicking

it back to a local court to examine the issue of due process. The Court ordered a local

court to determine whether or not Taylor gave proper notice to the landowners of

59 Jeffery Goldstein, Denver, CO, to Land Rights Council Board, San Luis, CO, April 19, 1994, Personal Papers of Marianne L. Stoller. 60 Ibid.

234

Costilla County in the 1965 Torrens Action.61 Specifically, the court stated that the

trial court failed to determine if “Taylor had satisfied due process in the Torrens

action.” Only after determining this could the court move forward and conclude

whether or not the plaintiffs’ claims were barred by res judicata. In other words, res

judicata would only bar those people who had been named and served in Torrens

action. The court ordered the lower court to examine these very issues—first to

determine due process and second to examine the merits of the case for those whose

due process rights had been violated in 1965.62

LRC response to the High Court decision was nothing short of ecstatic.

Goldstein called the decision “absolutely wonderful,” highlighting the perseverance

of the community and declaring that “due process applies to poor people and rich

people alike.” LRC president Charlie Jaquez described the ruling as a “dream.”63

The victory breathed new life into the LRC’s legal effort and certainly caught the

attention of national observers. Organizations such as the American Civil Liberties

Union, the National and Colorado Hispanic Bar Associations, the Hispanic League,

the California Rural Legal Assistance Foundation, and the International Center for

Human Rights Litigation all pledged legal support for the LRC and for Goldstein.

Ken Salazar also shared in the good cheer, as he celebrated the victory as a “positive

development” that could energize efforts to negotiate a resolution to the land

conflict.64

61 Rael v. Taylor, 876 P.2d. “Taylor Ranch case back to SLV,” The Pueblo Chieftain, May 3, 1994; “Taylor Ranch hearings ordered,” The Denver Post, May 3, 1994; “Residents near Taylor Ranch celebrate victory,” Gazette Telegraph, May 7, 1994. 62 Golten, “Lobato v. Taylor,” 475-476. 63 “Residents near Taylor Ranch celebrate victory,” Gazette Telegraph, May 7, 1994; “Taylor Ranch hearings ordered,” The Denver Post, May 3, 1994. 64 “Taylor Ranch hearings ordered,” The Denver Post, May 3, 1994.

235

While the LRC never wavered in its resistance efforts, the Supreme Court

decision boosted the activists’ confidence and increased their credibility in the

community and strengthened their popular support outside San Luis. Following the

court victory, the LRC board sent a letter to Governor Romer, Ken Salazar, and Mike

Gomez, who was the President of the La Sierra Foundation. The four-page letter

intended to explain the LRC’s decision to withdraw from the Sangre de Cristo Land

Grant Commission and the La Sierra Foundation. The confident and forceful tone of

the letter undoubtedly stemmed from the validation provided the group by the

Supreme Court. The letter provided the strongest statement to date of the Land

Rights Council’s claim to legitimacy in the community, as it explicitly highlighted the

position and strategy of the LRC, criticisms of the La Sierra Foundation and of the

Governor’s Commission, and some specific demands of the LRC.65

The letter began by crediting the community’s perseverance for the Supreme

Court Victory. It stated that the ruling gave the LRC a “renewed opportunity to

organize and educate the community around the lawsuit,” which the group clearly

saw as most advantageous approach to the land rights struggle.66 The LRC Board

spent about one-third of the letter leveling numerous criticisms at the La Sierra

Foundation. The LRC accused the Foundation of being undemocratic, elitist, and

sexist. It claimed that the Foundation was “not based upon democratic principles, did

not involve “a true cross-section of the community” and was “particularly deficient in

representing the poorest members of the community, women, and those most closely

65 Board of Directors of the Land Rights Council, San Luis, CO, to Governor Roy Romer, Ken Salazar, and Mike Gomez, Denver, CO, June 1, 1994, personal files of Marianne L. Stoller, Colorado Springs, Colorado. 66 Ibid.

236

tied to the land for survival.”67 Further, the LRC highlighted the undemocratic nature

of decision-making within the La Sierra Foundation, accusing Maclovio Martinez of

conducting business “as if he were the sole interested party in the process.” The LRC

board cited numerous examples of this, including actions that the LRC considered to

be unethical and fraudulent, as well as despotic. The board then criticized Professor

Devon Peña, a La Sierra Foundation consultant, who also allegedly committed ethical

violations.68

The most impassioned section of the letter addressed the LRC’s concern over

any collaboration with the State. Again, the board referred to the 1989 Division of

Wildlife Raid and the “ill feelings and legitimate criticisms involving racism toward

the community” that resulted from the raid. The board cited the State’s failure to

redress the wrongs committed against the community during the raid, as well as the

State’s history of racism toward the community, as reasons that the LRC and its

plaintiffs would be skeptical of any “partnership arrangement with the State.”

Referring to the Commission’s apparent preoccupation with the natural resources and

recreational aspects of the Mountain, the LRC Board expressed doubts that the

community’s land rights were even a priority.69

Finally, the letter demanded that the State and La Sierra Foundation “cease

interfering with Land Rights Council’s efforts to litigate.” More specifically, the

LRC asked for two things: first, the Foundation should cease its grant writing, which

67 Ibid. 68 Ibid.; Colorado College Memorandum to all College Faculty, “Land Rights Struggle in San Luis: Request for Donations,” April 27, 1994, Personal files of Marianne L. Stoller, Colorado Springs, Colorado. 69 Board of Directors of the Land Rights Council to Governor Roy Romer, Ken Salazar, and Mike Gomez, June 1, 1994.

237

the LRC argued competed with its own fundraising efforts, and second, Ken Salazar

must disband the Governor’s Commission. The latter reflected the LRC’s belief that

the Commission never represented the larger community and that it was problematic

from the start, since some governmental members had ties to the 1989 raid.70

Once they had broken away from the Commission and had distanced

themselves from the Foundation, LRC activists focused on the lawsuit. Their

challenge would be to organize the community in support of the lawsuit, while

gathering historical and legal support for their claims in court. The LRC began with a

series of meetings to discuss strategies. The early meetings were rife with drama and

confusion. Just a week following the ruling, many key LRC members drove 240

miles to attend a meeting with Jeff Goldstein, Sandy Karp, the elderly Eugene Tepley,

and Watson Galleher. Galleher had recently been recruited by Goldstein and Tepley

to work on the case. He was a recent law school graduate and was eager to get

involved in the case. The group discussed many key issues, such as funding and legal

research tasks. While the meeting appeared to be professional and quite focused on

the historical, financial, and practical needs of the lawsuit, there was still talk from

LRC activists about Ken Salazar being in “cahoots” with the La Sierra Foundation.71

Those bitter feelings took a long time to subside.

The following week, the LRC held a community meeting in San Luis, which

took on a far different tone. All the bitter feelings between the LRC, the La Sierra

Foundation, and the Commission bubbled to the surface, as representatives from all

three groups attended. While the LRC intended the meeting to educate the

70 Ibid. 71 Meeting Minutes, Land Rights Council, May 11, 1994, San Luis, CO, Personal Papers of Marianne L. Stoller, Colorado Springs, Colorado.

238

community about the details of the court ruling and to discuss future legal strategy,

the meeting deteriorated into a forum for airing frustrations and personal grievances.

The secretary described the meeting as “a mess,” and used colorful adjectives to

describe individuals. Gene Martinez, described as “wild,” threatened LRC member

Charlie Jaquez, while Father Pat was described as “a wimp.” Through all the

challenges from LRC members, Ken Salazar refused to back down, suggesting that a

referendum on the ballot in November would be the best way to truly gauge public

support for either the lawsuit or the alternate plan of a state-sponsored purchase of the

land.72

Jeff Goldstein joined the fray when he called the bluff of the activists and

made demands of his own, attempting to bring some sort of order to the chaos. His

demands came with a statement that if the community did not comply with them, he

would withdraw from the case. Goldstein demanded the cooperation of the LRC and

permission from them to deal with the day-to-day legal decisions, the files, and the

money. The activists agreed to comply with his demands.73

The meeting represented the rocky relations that characterized the LRC’s

grassroots movement and their sometimes rough relationship with their attorney, who

was attempting to bridge the distance between the San Luis community and the

demands of the American court system. The frustrations of the LRC’s secretary,

recorded in the minutes, provide a window into these complicated relations.

Comments such as “How to keep idiots from fouling up in the meantime” and “keep

72 Meeting Minutes, Land Rights Council, May 16, 1994, San Luis, CO, Personal Papers of Marianne L. Stoller, Colorado Springs, Colorado; “Vote urged on Taylor Ranch issue,” The Denver Post, May 20, 1994. 73 Meeting Minutes, Land Rights Council, May 16, 1994.

239

Maria away from Oteros and Rita and she’s okay” provide us with a glimpse into the

human drama and relational complexities involved in the struggle and would make

the victory that much sweeter.

Goldstein and the LRC spent the next months constructing their legal

arguments. Goldstein met with the LRC numerous times during that critical period as

he fashioned the case.74 Goldstein began recruiting other attorneys to assist with what

he expected would be a long, complicated legal endeavor, while LRC activists began

the historical research necessary to support their claims in court. Activists

interviewed locals, constructed maps of the original villages and various land use

patterns, and strategized about how to get the quieter, more tentative members of the

community involved in the revived court case. They also set about writing grant

proposals and exploring other fundraising opportunities.75

Perhaps most importantly, the LRC began a revived grassroots effort to

maintain, even strengthen, their position as the political voice of the community’s

struggle in light of new challenges, which included a renewed logging campaign on

La Sierra and mediocre results in the upcoming and long-awaited court hearing and

trial. In order to address these challenges, the LRC would have to engage in an

expanded form of coalitional politics, joining forces and even co-opting outside

groups whose arrival in town brought new dimensions and new resources to their

movement.

In the spring of 1995, Taylor made a stunning announcement that would add a

new dimension to the land rights struggle. Following the failure—again—to

74 Jeff Goldstein, interview. 75 Meeting Minutes, Land Rights Council, May 16, 1994.

240

negotiate with the Governor’s Commission a sale of his ranch to the State, Taylor

announced that he had contracted with Stone Forest Industries to “produce enough

lumber to build 2,000 three-bedroom homes,” in just four years. He said that any

leftover residuals could be used by locals as firewood. Company representative

Stetson Edmunds attempted to ease local fears when he stated that no clear cutting

would occur. It had been 11 years since timbering last occurred on the ranch, and

locals were worried about the effects of renewed cutting on their water supply.76

Taylor had actually begun talks with various logging operations as early as 1993, but

talks were stalled until early 1995.77

In response to Zach Taylor’s announcement that logging had resumed on the

ranch, LRC activists openly questioned Taylor’s timing. They saw it as a ploy to get

the LRC to drop the lawsuit, in the wake of failed negotiations with the State and just

a few days following an appellate court’s denial of his attorney’s motion to subject

the case to the statute of limitations.78 The LRC joined with the County

Commissioners to fight what they saw as unsustainable logging on the mountain tract.

LRC activist, Maria Mondragon-Valdez, warned that Taylor’s offer of wood scraps to

the community was “crap,” and represented a calculated move to divide the

community.79

The Costilla County Commissioners vowed to fight Taylor’s timber

operations and come up with a resolution that would regulate the logging within the 76 “Sunset for ranch sale?” The Denver Post, January 24, 1995; “Taylor Ranch purchase stalls because of price,” The Denver Post, January 24, 1995; “Taylor Ranch buy effort falls through,” The Pueblo Chieftain, January 24, 1995; “Timber cutting set to resume at Taylor Ranch,” The Pueblo Chieftain, March 24, 1995. 77 “Salazar hears Costilla residents’ side,” The Pueblo Chieftain, June 22, 1993. 78 “Taylor Ranch case comes home,” The Pueblo Chieftain, March 10, 1995; “Timber cutting set to resume at Taylor Ranch,” The Pueblo Chieftain, March 24, 1995. 79 “Timber cutting set to resume at Taylor Ranch,” The Pueblo Chieftain, March 24, 1995.

241

county.80 In doing so, the Commissioners opened a second front in the community’s

fight against Taylor—a move welcomed by Land Rights Council activists. While the

move also attracted the attention of national environmental groups, it had the

immediate effect of encouraging the La Sierra Foundation to step up its efforts to find

a solution. As the defender of the Mountain tract’s fragile ecosystem—an identity

carefully constructed through its literature and public actions—the La Sierra

Foundation came up with a plan to form “an authority” that would be able to tax

landowners in the county and use that revenue to purchase the Mountain Tract before

logging destroyed it. The plan was to generate the $25 million necessary to buy the

land outright. LRC activists were quick to criticize this plan—maintaining their

distance from the policies of the La Sierra Foundation. One LRC activist called

Maclovio Martinez, the architect of the plan, “dishonest” and suggested that many

people already did not pay their property taxes, which would result in loss of property

and eventual default on bonds—essentially failure of the entire enterprise. She called

the “whole thing…a big blank check.”81

LOGGING AND TH E ARRIVAL OF “LOS HIPPIES”

That summer, Taylor went public with an offer. He was willing to sell the

ranch for $21.5 million, but with a clause that he would continue to reap logging

profits for at least a decade. San Luis locals responded with outrage. La Sierra

Foundation officials called it “extortion,” and wondered what good purchasing a

80 “Costilla plans to fight timber plans for Taylor,” The Pueblo Chieftain, March 28, 1995. 81 “Citizens seek tax to purchase ranchland,” The Pueblo Chieftain, June 26, 1995.

242

“bare mountain” would do for the community.82 Taylor was clearly intent on cashing

in on the recent timber boom, in which truckload of logs that once netted $200 was

now bringing in close to $1500.83

After a summer of wrangling over the extent of the logging operations, the

County Commissioners passed a resolution that would regulate all logging on the

mountain and would begin by imposing a temporary moratorium on cutting—an act

which the Taylor family vehemently opposed. The County Commissioners also

threatened legal action against Taylor and Stone Forest Industries.84

In light of Taylor’s most recent offer and the local uproar that resulted in the

San Luis community, a frustrated Ken Salazar resigned his post as head of the

Governor’s Commission, leaving the Commission in the hands of Jim Lochhead.85

Lochhead walked into a minefield, as he faced a politically-fractured local

community, a landowner (Zach Taylor) who was openly defiant to any county-

imposed logging restrictions, and a nascent but increasingly radical environmental

movement, which would one day file into his office at the state capitol.86

The LRC, meanwhile, continued to focus its efforts on discrediting the La

Sierra Foundation’s plan to create a broad-based coalition of supporters for their

purchase of the land. The Foundation sought to have voters decide if they wanted to

entrust the La Sierra with taxing each property owner $100 a year for six years, which

82 “Locals decry Taylor Ranch offer 10-year logging clause, price tag cited,” The Denver Post, July 14, 1995. 83 “Colorado lacks law for forests,” The Denver Post, July 31, 1995. 84 “Costilla make take action against Taylor Ranch loggers,” The Pueblo Chieftain, November 4, 1995; “Manager to open Taylor Ranch, he hopes to create jobs, still criticism,” The Denver Post, July 15, 1995. 85 “Taylor Ranch panel suffers a setback, Leader quits, citing futile efforts,” The Denver Post, August 9, 1995. 86 The environmental movement would surface in 1996, when members of radical environmental groups descended upon San Luis to protest Taylor’s logging of La Sierra.

243

would enable the Foundation to purchase the Taylor ranch. The Foundation agreed to

pay the tax for the poor and elderly. LRC activists seized upon this, calling it

unconstitutional, saying it was wrong for the Foundation to place a lien on the

properties of those who refused to pay out of protest, while paying the tax for those

who could not afford it. LRC activists also criticized the Foundation’s newly

appointed executive director, Professor Devon Peña, whom they labeled as a self-

interested outsider.87 Peña would maintain a shaky relationship with the San Luis

community, as he was constantly accused by activists of promoting his own self-

interests.

In the spring of 1996, Stone Forest Industries, now called Stone Container

Corporation, stepped up its logging operations, and in doing so, ignited a more

intense grassroots environmental debate. In response to increased logging, LRC

activists first called for a grand jury investigation into the logging operation and

began circulating petitions in communities affected by the logging. Their goal was to

call regional and national attention to Taylor’s logging trucks, which were destroying

their local roads, not to mention destroying the forests on the Mountain tract. The

LRC also claimed that company trucks were entering the ranch through New Mexico,

to avoid Colorado laws.88 Such protests were only the beginning of the LRC

involvement in the issue and would signal a change in the direction of the LRC’s

strategy.

As the winter snows began to melt, giving way to more favorable logging

conditions, carloads of environmentalists began arriving in the San Luis community.

87 “Taylor Ranch issue blazes conservation trail,” The Pueblo Chieftain, September 30, 1995. 88 “Group wants authorities to check logging trucks,” The Pueblo Chieftain, March 16, 1996.

244

Representatives from groups such as Earth First!, Greenpeace, and Ancient Forest

Rescue arrived ready to set up a series of protests. When they arrived in San Luis,

they did not meet with instant approval, however. Locals referred to them as “los

hippies,” just one of many groups to come in and try to save the locals. Their

vegetarian habits, their dreadlocked hair, and their economic privilege raised local

suspicions. Some locals never accepted them.89 Some saw them as “trust babies who

[were] out to get their Boy Scout badges…[T]hey’d line up here at the bank because

Mommy was wiring them money.”90 That class difference immediately put some

locals on the defensive, making them fear that the environmentalists were not serious

or were uncomprehending about vital community issues.

Yet after initially hesitating the LRC embraced the arrival of white, upper-

class environmentalists and successfully formed a grassroots coalition with them

behind the banner of saving the environment and thus a traditional way of life. In

doing so, the LRC used the logging issue to call attention to the issue of the historic

land rights at the heart of its lawsuit. Standing with the environmentalists allowed the

LRC to make use of the determination and experience of demonstrators who were

willing to engage in flamboyant tactics and risk arrest. The civil disobedience of the

environmentalists made the LRC’s lawsuit seem a more palatable approach to the

issue. While the general public was wary, even critical, of the outside

environmentalists as instigators of civil disobedience, the LRC and the lawsuit gained

more support during this critical period when activists, plaintiffs, and their attorneys

were preparing for the legal battle of their lives. The environmentalists’ status as

89 Joseph Gallegos, interview. 90 Robert Kino Green, interview.

245

outsiders protected insiders like the LRC from harsh criticism, thus strengthening the

agenda of the LRC, on the eve of the long-awaited court hearing.

Seeing this, LRC activists began working with them to promote protests

against the logging. Shirley Romero-Otero became one of their biggest supporters in

the community, and spoke on their behalf.91 Many in the community followed suit.

If Shirley could trust and welcome them, then they must be okay. Knowing what

resources they could bring to the movement, she moved beyond the class and social

differences between the two groups and began to acknowledge them in her speeches

and to include them in the LRC resistance movement. She began to see the common

ideology that the two groups shared.

La Sierra Foundation’s leader noted the evolution of this alliance, when he

saw Shirley Romero-Otero reaching out to “los hippies.” “I always hear Shirley

acknowledging them and saying that this goes beyond a Chicano thing. This is

everybody getting together and trying to do something…[T]hat’s quite a thing for her,

as a very militant person who was always locking horns with the Anglo power

structure in Grand Junction and across the state.”92 Romero-Otero’s acceptance of

“los hippies” signaled a larger acceptance of them as part of the LRC’s struggle. She

and other LRC members, along with the County Conservancy District, the County

Commissioners, and the Acequia Advisory Board, formed a formal coalition with

“los hippies” and began to work together to fight the logging. Perhaps more

impressive was the willingness of La Sierra Foundation leaders and Father Pat to join

the alliance. While the LRC and the Foundation disagreed on other matters, both

91 Shirley Romero Otero, interview; Robert Kino Green, interview. 92 Robert Kino Green, interview.

246

groups came together to fight the environmental injustice of Taylor’s logging

operations. The diverse coalition called itself “Salva tu Sierra” [“Save your

Mountain”], and participants dedicated themselves to stopping the logging on the

Taylor Ranch.93 The role of “los hippies” in encouraging such unified action cannot

be overlooked.

The coalition began its grassroots activism in earnest during the summer of

1996, when about fifty activists staged a three-day gathering in San Luis, which

began with a sunrise mass conducted by Father Pat in the parish yard. The remainder

of the three days was spent staging protests at the ranch gates, singing Native

American chants, and presenting the ranch manager with a list of demands. The

coalition demanded that Taylor and Stone Container Corporation cease all logging

immediately. The LRC members, along with their new environmental allies, met

with local community members, educating them about the logging practices and the

irreversible damage caused by clear cutting. In addition to concerns about the

community’s watershed, activists cited dangers to the habitats of two endangered

species—the Southwestern Willow Flycatcher and the Mexican Spotted Owl.94

The activists engaged in numerous protests throughout the summers of 1996-

1998. While most were peaceful, some grew violent, as logging truckers became

frustrated with road blocks and struck a protestor. The media focused on the violent

actions of the loggers, painting the environmentalists as peaceful and devoted to their

93 “50 Valley protesters present demand list at Taylor Ranch,” The Pueblo Chieftain, June 11, 1996; “In a Colorado Valley, Hispanic Farmers Try to Stop a Timber Baron,” The New York Times, March 24, 1997. 94 “50 Valley protestors present demand list at Taylor Ranch,” The Pueblo Chieftain, June 11, 1996.

247

cause.95 Civil disobedience seemed to be attracting the desired media attention;

however, not all locals supported the protests. Many refused to accept the flashy

tactics of the “agitators.” They saw them as outsiders who were only stirring up

trouble.96 LRC leaders, however, remained unfazed by the criticisms. They

strengthened their alliance with the environmentalists, as they saw the effects of the

protests on the issue of a state purchase of the land.

That first summer, in response to the heightened protests at the ranch, Jim

Lochhead warned that the protests were having a negative effect on the State’s

negotiations with Taylor to purchase the land and turn it into a state park. State

officials worried that the protests over logging, and the negative responses by some to

those protests, indicated deep divisions in the San Luis community, which would

make State interactions with the community even more difficult. Lochhead indicated

that the State may wait for the outcome of the lawsuit before it proceeded with

negotiations.97 Nothing could have made the LRC happier.

At a time when the LRC needed to increase its support and exposure in the

community and in the region—during its preparations for a future trial—the rise of a

visible, sometimes flashy, environmental movement enabled the LRC to do just that.

The environmentalists brought with them new types of civil disobedience tactics,

access to new media outlets, and a new vocabulary—that of environmental justice.

95 “Demonstrators hinder proposed Taylor Ranch purchase,” The Pueblo Chieftain, July 12, 1996; ”20 Protestors arrested near Taylor Ranch logging site,” The Pueblo Chieftain, June 29, 1996; “17 plead innocent in ranch rally,” The Pueblo Chieftain, July 4, 1996; “Environmentalists gather in SLV to protest Taylor Ranch logging,” The Pueblo Chieftain, March 7, 1997. 96 “No arrests in Taylor Ranch protest,” The Pueblo Chieftain, July 16, 1996. 97 “Demonstrators hinder proposed Taylor Ranch purchase,” The Pueblo Chieftain, July 12, 1996.

248

By including the rhetoric of environmental justice in their movement, the LRC

made the nation’s environmental movement relevant to a poor, rural community of

people of color. For the people of San Luis, saving whales and spotted owls seemed

the luxury of the middle and upper class urban dwellers, but preservation of the

fragile ecosystem of La Sierra was paramount. While the environmentalists initially

came to San Luis to save the old growth forest, they came to realize that the issue was

more about justice and the preservation of a traditional way of life. The

environmentalists eventually became advocates for social justice, and when that

happened, the alliance between the LRC and “los hippies” emerged. In the end, the

alliance between the two groups was one of the LRC’s most successful strategies,

especially in terms of media exposure and support. In 1999, Ancient Forest Rescue,

in conjunction with local activists, produced a documentary video which detailed the

struggle against the logging operations. In the video, they interviewed LRC activists,

environmentalists, and experts. The film provided the LRC with an effective vehicle

to spread message, as received an impressive amount of “air” time.98 The

documentary was just one example of how LRC activists were able to benefit from

their alliance with AFR.

The energy that the environmental movement brought into town was

contagious. The highly visible protests brought the issue to the doorsteps of people

who had shied away from such open activism in the past. “[E]ighty-year-old local

98 “Sin Agua, No Hay Vida,” Wet Mountain Productions, video recording, 1999.

249

ladies and families brought [the protesters] food, old men brought [them] firewood,”

and teens who had not grown up on the mountain also openly engaged in protests.99

On one summer day in 1997, in front of cheering crowds, soft-spoken mother

of three Adeline Espinosa locked herself to an old run-down car which had been

cemented to the ground, on the road frequented by logging trucks. She had her arms

locked inside metal sleeves that had been designed and welded for this purpose. She

sat on the front hood of the car, just below the windshield, with her back to the front.

Activists holding signs and chanting protest slogans had provided her with a stack of

pillows to sit on, since she intended to be there for a long time. Though there were

detractors who passed by and criticized her for her actions, saying she was neglecting

her children, her three children came up and gave her hugs and kisses and expressed

their support for what she was doing. Espinosa also turned such insults on their head

and stated that what she was doing was protecting children and the entire San Luis

community.100 LRC activists had identified her father, Crucito Maes, as a strong

plaintiff, but he was quite elderly and suspicious of the English-language courts.

Never having been politically active, Adeline agreed in 1997 to stand in his place, and

in the process, joined the LRC, discovering her own political voice. Now she was

engaging in civil disobedience to defend La Sierra.

In another act of non-violent protest, local activist and Vietnam veteran Rocky

Madrid locked himself to a cattle grate in front of one of the gates leading up to the

ranch. Madrid himself was an imposing sight. He stood about 5’6” and had a

99 “Action on Endangered San Luis Watershed,” p. 1, www.rmc.sierraclub.org/pandp1997-10/sanluis.html. 100 “Colorado Supreme Court Grants Plaintiffs Review of Land Rights Case,” Ya Basta!, February 2001; Sin Agua, No Hay Vida, Wet Mountain productions, 1999; Personal observations of author, Summer 1997.

250

disheveled mane of gray-streaked, curly black hair. He wore dark glasses and jeans

usually cut off at the knees and no shoes. He had a reputation for radical politics and

devotion to community, and on a summer day in 1997, Rocky Madrid became a

community hero and lived up to his reputation as fierce protector of the people of San

Luis.101

That morning, fellow activists assisted him in putting his neck in a bicycle U-

lock, which restricted his movement to either side. He was then locked to a cattle

grate. Protestors supplied him with blankets, pillows and small sips of liquid. He said

he only took small sips, so he would not have to use the restroom. Madrid called

upon his military survival skills to remain in the lock down for hours. News of his

lockdown traveled quickly. In just under an hour, carloads of supporters ventured to

his location to cheer him on. From his vulnerable position, he criticized the logging

operations and the local law enforcement officials who eventually cut him free, using

a chainsaw, only to haul him off to jail. His statement was bold. He had been willing

to put his life on the line for La Sierra. He was arrested for resisting arrest,

obstructing a highway, disobeying a direct order from a law enforcement officer, and

criminal trespass.102 Madrid’s willingness to stand up to the authorities and to the

logging companies, and to put himself in physical danger made him a hero for the

cause.

101 “Colorado Supreme Court Grants Plaintiffs Review of Land Rights Case,” Ya Basta!, February 2001; “Six arrested in logging protest,” The Denver Post, June 11, 1997; “Logging resumes at Taylor Ranch, The Pueblo Chieftain, June 13, 1997; Personal observations of author. 102 “Colorado Supreme Court Grants Plaintiffs Review of Land Rights Case,” Ya Basta!, February 2001; Sin Agua, No Hay Vida, Wet Mountain Productions, 1999; “Six arrested in logging protest,” The Denver Post, June 11, 1997; “Logging resumes at Taylor Ranch, The Pueblo Chieftain, June 13, 1997; Personal observations of author, Summer 1997.

251

In time, local families opened their homes to the environmentalists and

developed a respect for their sacrifices. The LRC activists, however, carefully

defined the parameters of the coalition with the environmentalists. The LRC knew

that the last thing wanted was to have a group of outsiders come in and tell them what

to do with their land. In the end, most of the AFR activists assumed the ways of the

locals and learned the local history. They also came to an understanding of the legal

and environmental issues from the perspective of the local farmers and ranchers, and

avoided doing what so many white reformers had done in the community; telling the

Chicanos how to live their lives and manage their land. In fact, they came eager to

learn the local ways. As one observer put it:

“They learned a lot…when they came here they were also anti-cattle, because in the bible of environmentalism, cows destroy nature…they were vegetarians. When they met with folks here and saw that people really were not destroying their land with cattle, then that caused them to reevaluate that. Some of them even started eating meat.”103

The arrival of the environmentalists and the activists’ acceptance of them into

the community was a real turning point for the movement. Although their protests

did not prevent even one log from being cut, the activists’ rhetoric of environmental

justice and their willingness to get arrested and to put themselves in harm’s way

reinvigorated the LRC-led strategy of no compromise—a strategy that had been

challenged by those who sided with the State and La Sierra Foundation. One

environmentalist, in particular, captured the hearts of local activists. In the summer

of 1996, Megan Corrigan, a 20-year-old from Boulder, “locked down,” but in a more

risky fashion than most. Corrigan put a bicycle lock around her neck and through the

gate. Locals warned her not to do this, since a truck driver had recently driven 103 Robert Kino Green, interview.

252

through a group of protestors. When tempers flared, anything could happen. Despite

their warnings, Corrigan resumed her protest, and was arrested for third-degree

criminal trespassing.104 Such actions reinforced the trust between the two groups,

strengthening the alliance between them.

As the cold of fall and winter 1997 arrived in the Valley, many of the AFR

activists remained in San Luis, although the protests waned. The LRC, meanwhile,

continued to prepare for its first hearing, which had been set for September 1997,

despite numerous attempts by Zach Taylor’s attorneys to get the case dismissed.105

While Jeff Goldstein recruited attorneys, research assistants, and expert witnesses to

support the LRC’s legal claims, the LRC activists persisted in their efforts to

interview locals, recruit plaintiffs, and raise funds for their movement. Goldstein

continued to meet with the LRC and interested community members throughout the

winter. He also continued talking with State officials about their ever-present plans to

purchase the Taylor ranch.106

That spring, the protests resumed, and LRC activists stepped up their role in

the protests, becoming the most vocal members of the Salve tu Sierra Coalition. They

used the coalition as a forum to promote their own legal issues, as well as the

environmental destruction on the mountain. At one large rally in the spring of 1997,

LRC activist Pete Espinoza told the crowd that “We Spanish people of this county

want to be left alone,” while Maria Mondragon Valdez lashed out at the county’s

absentee landowners, the unscrupulous developers, and the American government,

calling her community part of “occupied New Mexico.” Another LRC activist read

104 Ibid., “Protestor faces charge,” The Pueblo Chieftain, July 27, 1996. 105 “Taylor suit will go on,” The Pueblo Chieftain, August 24, 1996. 106 Ibid.

253

“Ode to La Culebra,” a poem he had written expressing that the whole world feels the

effects of what is happening on the Taylor Ranch. Various religious figures from

Denver also joined in the rally, expressing their solidarity for the protestors.107 Thus

activists framed their struggle as a political one that went back many generations and

that possessed ramifications for communities around the world. The LRC was

asserting a global basis for its struggle, as its leaders were publicly highlighting the

larger significance of their resistance.

During that summer, San Luis was abuzz with activity. Jeff Goldstein hired

two research interns from Denver to work on behalf of the Land Rights Council in

preparation for the September hearing and a possible trial. The two interns worked

closely with Glenda Maes, then office manager for the LRC, recruiting witnesses,

conducting interrogatory interviews, and doing title searches and oral histories that

would support the plaintiffs’ claims in court. The researchers spent much of their

time visiting with locals and searching through old photo collections, boxes of letters

and newspaper clippings, and answering questions. They also spent time at the

logging protests. They were important liaisons between the legal team that Goldstein

had assembled and the larger community.108 LRC leaders also launched a media

blitz, which included holding fundraisers and publishing articles about their struggle.

The most notable fundraiser was held in Denver and featured John Nichols as the

main speaker. Nichols, author of The Milagro Beanfield War, spoke about the contest 107 “Environmentalists gather in SLV to protest Taylor Ranch logging,” The Pueblo Chieftain, March 7, 1997; “Greenpeace activist convicted for trespassing on Taylor Ranch,” The Pueblo Chieftain, March 8, 1997. 108 Personal observations of author, Summer 1997. I spent most of the summer of 1997, living and working in San Luis. I, along with Rebecca Acevedo—then a law student at the University of Denver—assisted the attorneys in preparation for the hearing, scheduled for September 1997. As historical researcher, I concentrated on scouring the County Clerk’s office for property deeds. I also conducted oral histories with plaintiffs and witnesses.

254

in terms of a larger struggle that traditional communities have been waging against

development.109 Shirley and Ray Otero also published numerous articles in Ya

Basta!, their independent newspaper.110

It was during this same summer that the grassroots environmental movement

reached its climax, as a record number of locals and AFR activists were arrested for

trespassing and obstructing public roads. Shirley Romero-Otero and Glenda Maes

were among those arrested that summer. The civil disobedience was as flamboyant as

ever, as activists chained themselves to abandoned cars to block roads and chained

themselves to the axles of logging trucks.111 In fact, the activists rented land from a

landowner adjacent to the Jaroso ranch gate, so they could not be removed from the

area. They set up camp and stayed. They painted the landscape with their protest

banners and their demands that Taylor stop the logging. According to one LRC

publication, activists occupied the Jaroso gates for over two weeks, preventing

logging trucks from accessing the ranch. At another gate an AFR activist known as

“Bob” locked down for over a month. He had the support of both AFR and LRC

activists who assisted him with his personal needs and held nightly vigils at the

campsite.112 All of this activity led up to the District Court hearing, which was the

first time, since 1981, that the plaintiffs presented the merits of the case to the court.

109 Personal observations of author, May 1997. 110 The majority of the articles in the Summer 1997 issue of Ya Basta! focused on the San Luis land rights struggle. 111 Protestors block gates at Taylor Ranch,” The Pueblo Chieftain, July 26, 1997; “Taylor Ranch protestor arrested,” The Pueblo Chieftain, July 30, 1997; “Logging resumes at Taylor Ranch,” The Pueblo Chieftain, June 13, 1997; “Taylor Ranch protest results in arrest of six,” The Pueblo Chieftain, June 10, 1997; “Beauty and the Beast,” Ya Basta!, Summer 1997; “Sin Agua, No Hay Vida,” Wet Mountain Productions, 1999, “Demonstrations, Lawsuit, Protests and Lockdowns continue,” Ya Basta!, Summer 1997. 112 “Beauty and the Beast,” Ya Basta!, Summer 1997.

255

BACK IN COURT: PRESENTING THE MERITS OF THE CASE

Just days before the LRC’s court hearing, a group of 75 Salve tu Sierra

Coalition members—about 30 of them San Luis natives—descended upon the State

Capitol. Led by LRC co-founders Ray Otero and Shirley Romero-Otero, they forced

themselves into the offices of the Governor’s advisors and presented Jim Carpenter,

the press secretary, with stacks of letters and petitions, asking the Governor to stop

the logging. Carpenter promised to schedule a meeting between coalition members

and Jim Lochhead of the Sangre de Cristo Land Grant Commission. In addition to

members of the Salve tu Sierra Coalition, there were also members of the Lakota

tribe—a long time ally of the LRC—present at the rally. William Underbaggage, a

Lakota activist, led a group prayer for the survival of the San Luis people.113

The presence of 25-plus protestors disrupted business-as-usual in Colorado’s

highest office and gave protestors a chance to make their concerns known. Colorful

signs, catchy slogans, and festive music accompanied their protest.114 Although the

activists did not succeed in getting executive support for an injunction, the protest

brought the cause to the streets of Denver. The LRC’s role, at the forefront of the

rally, illustrated its use of the environmental issue to further its position as the

dominant voice of the San Luis community. The rally also provided the LRC an

opportunity to strengthen its strategy of coalition building with groups that shared its

commitment to justice—with both old and new allies.

113 “Seventy-five protest Taylor Ranch logging,” The Pueblo Chieftain, September 17, 1997; “Sin Agua, No Hay Vida,” Wet Mountain Productions, 1999; “Two critical hearings set for September in La Sierra suit,” Ya Basta, Summer 1997. 114 “Seventy-five protest Taylor Ranch logging,” The Pueblo Chieftain, September 17, 1997; “Sin Agua, No Hay Vida,” Wet Mountain Productions, 1999; Personal observations of the author, Summer 1997.

256

On the eve of the court hearing, Zach Taylor made a last minute offer to settle

the lawsuit out of court. He offered the plaintiffs 2500 acres—free and clear—if they

would drop the lawsuit and promise never to go to court over or trespass on any

remaining part of the Taylor Ranch. If they did litigate or trespass, the Taylor family

would take the land back. Goldstein and the LRC called a community meeting to

discuss the offer. The discussion was heated, with Pete Espinoza addressing the

crowd of about 50 people in Spanish, so as to exclude the “gringos” in attendance.

The LRC leaders decried the land offered by Taylor as worthless. They declared they

were insulted by his eleventh-hour offer, seeing it as a ploy to distract their attorneys

from preparing for the hearing. In the end, not a single person voted to accept it.115

In fact, the offer fanned the flames of resistance on the eve of what would be a very

emotional proceeding. Goldstein and LRC leaders encouraged Chicanos from around

the state to journey to San Luis for the court hearing.116

The hearing went on as scheduled on September 23, 1997, with District Court

Judge Gaspar Perricone warning both sides to keep their emotions out of the

courtroom. The central legal matter in the hearing was whether or not the San Luis

plaintiffs’ legal claims warranted a trial. More specifically, the plaintiffs and their

attorneys had to prove that Jack Taylor—back in 1961—had not used “reasonable

diligence” in naming and serving those people who claimed an interest in the Taylor

Ranch—the common lands known locally as La Sierra. The plaintiffs had to prove 115 “State plans new effort to buy Taylor Ranch,” The Denver Post, January 9, 1997; “Panel issues letter-of-intent to buy disputed Taylor Ranch,” The Denver Post, January 24, 1997; “”State’s bid for Taylor Ranch still on,” The Denver Post, April 3, 1997; No deal: State rejects conditions of ranch sale,” The Pueblo Chieftain, March 14, 1997; “Plaintiffs insulted by offer to settle Taylor Ranch suit,” The Pueblo Chieftain, September 8, 1997; “Two critical hearings set for September in La Sierra suit,” Ya Basta, Summer 1997. 116 “Two critical hearings set for September in La Sierra suit,” Ya Basta, Summer 1997; “Proposed settlement meeting held in 37-year-old Mountain Tract dispute,” Ya Basta, Summer 1997.

257

that Taylor knew enough about the San Luis community and its dependence on La

Sierra to know that he was required by law to name and serve all property owners in

Costilla County, since all property owners fell within the bounds described by Carlos

Beaubien and were thus entitled to the use of La Sierra.117

Plaintiffs’ attorneys argued that the wording in Taylor’s deed, exhibit no. 23,

made such rights explicit, as it was “[s]ubject to claims of the local people by

prescription or otherwise to right to pasture, wood, and lumber and so-called

settlement rights to and upon said land.” They also argued that the 1863 Beaubien

document would have made the land rights of the local people abundantly clear.

Knowledge that land rights ran with the lands granted to all the settlers should have

again led Taylor to name and serve all property owners in Costilla County. Given

these circumstances, the plaintiffs argued that Taylor did not exercise reasonable

diligence, as he failed to name more than 15% of the property owners in the county—

those that he had an obligation to name and serve. Thus, due process was not met as

to those property owners who were not named and served, which was why the

plaintiffs had a right to litigate their claims in court.118

117 “Security tight as trial in 37-year dispute opens,” The Denver Post, September 23, 1997; “Judge promises to rule this week on Taylor Ranch, Key question is whether owner gave proper notice to neighbors,” The Denver Post, September 24, 1997; “Notification inadequate, expert testifies,” The Denver Post, September 25, 1997; “Historical groundwork laid out in Taylor trial,” The Pueblo Chieftain, September 24, 1997; Transcript, Civil Action No. 81CV5 Rael v. Taylor, Costilla County District Court, State of Colorado, volume I of XIII, pp. 18-24; For biographical information about Judge Perricone, see “District Judge Leaves his Mark,” The Denver Post, February 17, 1997 and “Judge relives his gridiron glory days: Northwestern Alumnus played in ’49 Rose Bowl,” The Denver Post, December 31, 1995. 118 “Security tight as trial in 37-year dispute opens,” The Denver Post, September 23, 1997; “Judge promises to rule this week on Taylor Ranch, Key question is whether owner gave proper notice to neighbors,” The Denver Post, September 24, 1997; “Notification inadequate, expert testifies,” The Denver Post, September 25, 1997; “Historical groundwork laid out in Taylor trial,” The Pueblo Chieftain, September 24, 1997; Transcript, Civil Action No. 81CV5 Rael v. Taylor, Costilla County District Court, State of Colorado, volume I of XIII, pp. 18-24.

258

In response to these claims, Albert Wolf, Taylor’s attorney, argued that he did

indeed notify the people—500, in fact—by successive newspaper announcements.

He also argued that there was no way Taylor could have known who claimed such

rights—rights which Wolf questioned even existed.119 Further, Wolf argued that the

rights claimed by the defendants were “destructive of any ownership of the land by

any person…they will prevent in perpetuity any beneficial use or development of the

land by any person at any time and will result in total and permanent destruction of its

value.”120 Wolf was clearly calling on Judge Perricone to protect the sanctity of

private property.

During the proceedings, tempers flared, as both sides presented their

witnesses. At one point, Perricone ordered a third security guard, when it appeared

that violence might occur. After five days of testimony and three weeks deliberation,

Perricone issued his ruling.121 It offered the LRC a mixed bag. While ruling against

most of the plaintiffs’ claims, he decided that a small group had valid claims that

could be presented in a future trial, which would be scheduled for May 1998.122 The

LRC and its attorneys saw this as an important victory and began preparing for the

next step: the long-awaited trial on the merits of the case.123

119 “Security tight as trial in 37-year dispute opens,” The Denver Post, September 23, 1997; “Judge promises to rule this week on Taylor Ranch, Key question is whether owner gave proper notice to neighbors,” The Denver Post, September 24, 1997; “Notification inadequate, expert testifies,” The Denver Post, September 25, 1997; “Historical groundwork laid out in Taylor trial,” The Pueblo Chieftain, September 24, 1997; Transcript, Civil Action No. 81CV5 Rael v. Taylor, Costilla County District Court, State of Colorado volume I of XIII, pp. 18-24. 120 “Findings of Fact, Conclusions of Law and Order,” Civil Action No. 81CV5 Espinoza v. Taylor, Costilla County District Court, State of Colorado. 121 “Attorneys debate access ‘rights’ to Taylor Ranch,” The Denver Post, September 27, 1997. 122 “Decision handed down in Rael v. Taylor,” La Sierra, October 17, 1997. 123 “Legal team celebrates victories,” La Sierra, October 17, 1997.

259

In the interim, the LRC continued its fight against the logging, while

recruiting more local support for the upcoming trial. This is what had been working

so hard for. There was a sense among many of the activists that this was their final

chance; they would not get another opportunity to bring their concerns to the court.

In September 1997, the last of the negotiations between the State and Taylor failed,

and the leaders of the La Sierra Foundation threw their support to the Land Rights

Council and the lawsuit. Without the possibility of a state purchase of the land, La

Sierra Foundation had no reason to exist. Bob Green was one of the first to support

the LRC. As editor of “La Sierra” newspaper, he provided thorough and thoughtful

coverage of the LRC’s legal proceedings. The LRC welcomed this support and

mended their differences with the individuals who had supported the State’s

intervention.124

Father Pat, bringing with him the resources of the Church, also threw his full

support behind the LRC’s lawsuit. His sermons took on a more political tone. He

preached about the need to continue the resistance effort. In one sermon in

particular, Father Pat preached about the “delusion of powerlessness” that leads

people to accept “pain, suffering and tragedy without any hope of change.” Speaking

about the San Luis struggle, he told his audience that it must conquer their fears and

their fear of powerlessness and call upon their inner power to fight for justice.125 On

the eve of the trial, he held a special mass for the legal team. He also provided them

with free lodging and breakfasts at the Church’s Bed and Breakfast.126 As the

124 Robert Kino Green, interview. 125 Devon Peña, “A Gold Mine, an Orchard, and an Eleventh Commandment,” in Chicano Culture, Ecology, and Politics: Subversive Kin, (Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 1998), 268. 126 Jeff Goldstein, interview.

260

community appeared united behind the lawsuit, the LRC seemed to have succeeded in

its political maneuverings—as it entered the trial courtroom as the legitimate leader of

the community’s struggle for justice.

The eight-day Lobato v. Taylor trial occurred in May 1998, in the Costilla

County Courthouse. Perricone once again served as judge, which some LRC leaders

saw as a detriment to their case. The 1998 trial would essentially retry the 1981 Rael

v. Taylor case, addressing the merits of the plaintiffs’ case—the validity of their land

rights. In the opening statement, the LRC’s legal team presented its three main

arguments: their rights had been established under the law of prescription; their

rights emanated from the 1863 Beaubien document and that earlier courts had

misinterpreted the document, taking it out of its historical context; and their

usufructuary rights should have been preserved under the 1848 Treaty of Guadalupe

Hidalgo.127

During the trial, LRC activists rallied behind the nine plaintiffs who remained

in the case. One of the highlights of the trial occurred when Eugene Lobato took to

the witness stand. Dressed in a work shirt, blue jeans, and work boots, Lobato made

his way to the stand, walking with a slight limp. Visibly nervous, Lobato clumsily

settled into the witness seat. He then turned to the attorneys, whose looks of

encouragement seemed to put him at ease.128

127 “Findings of Fact, Conclusions of Law and Order,” Civil Action No. 81CV5 Espinoza v. Taylor, Costilla County District Court, State of Colorado, 1-7. For an additional interpretation of these claims, see María E. Montoya, “Dividing the Land: The Taylor Ranch and the Case for Preserving the Limited Access Commons,” in Land in the American West, ed. William G. Robbins and James C. Foster, 121-144 (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 2000). 128 Lobato v. Taylor, Civil Action No. 81CV5, Costilla County District Court, State of Colorado, 1126.; Personal observations of author, May 1998.

261

Known locally as “Buddy,” Lobato’s thin build, calloused hands, slightly bent

posture, and casual manner reflect a satisfying life of hard work and humility.

Lobato’s attorneys had called him to testify as to the San Luis community’s

relationship with La Sierra—the mountainous landscape adjacent to the lowland

ranches. On the stand, Lobato gained confidence once the questions began. Born in

1932, Lobato easily traced his family history back to the original settlers of San Luis.

He described in detail the lives of his ancestors. Ignacio Ortega, Antonia Ortega,

Policarpio Sanchez and Soledad Pacheco journeyed from northern New Mexico in

1850 to help found the pueblo of San Luis de la Culebra, on lands that comprised the

Sangre de Cristo Land Grant.129 Encouraged by the individual plots of land promised

to them by grant owner Carlos Beaubien, they ventured to the arid, isolated post on

their own, without military escort or protection. They were farmers and ranchers and

they arrived with their horses, cattle, sheep, hogs, and chickens. They established

well-irrigated subsistence farms on the lowlands and developed an annual cycle of

taking their herds of sheep and cattle to graze in the meadows of la merced [“the

grant or gift”], a term locals use to refer to La Sierra. Such communal land rights

were part of the reason they decided to settle in such a harsh climate, made even more

inhospitable by the unwelcoming Comanche and Ute Indians.130

Lobato recalled laboring on the ranch from the age of four, tagging along with

his father and brothers, performing menial tasks. His family raised cattle and sheep

and used the grazing pastures on La Sierra during the summer months. Lobato

129 The founders of San Luis named the town San Luis de la Culebra, due to its proximity to the Culebra (Snake) River. 130 Testimony of Eugene Lobato, Lobato v. Taylor, Civil Action No. 81CV5, Costilla County District Court, State of Colorado, trial transcript, 1126-1215.

262

described his family’s use of La Sierra’s wood for making corrals and stables.

Although others used the land for hunting, he made clear that he was never a hunter.

He did, however, describe using La Sierra for fishing and “just relaxing.” The Fourth

of July was a particularly festive time, when the entire community went up the

mountain for a celebration. The mountain, after all, was their backyard.131

Lobato further described the culture that emerged in the early San Luis

community. He spoke particularly about the satellite village of Chama, which he

described as a close-knit, communally-oriented, sheep-herding community, in which

families helped one another with daily tasks and in times of need.132 The most

moving part of Lobato’s testimony, which left a lasting impression on many in the

courtroom, occurred when he described getting his own piece of land. In 1958, his

father, Emilio Sr., deeded a piece of land to him. “My dad gave it to me for one

dollar, love, and devotion,” he recalled, as his eyes filled with tears.133 Clearly the act

of passing land from one generation to the next signaled not only a coming-of-age,

but also a means of continuing the tradition of subsistence-level farming and

ranching.

With the next set of questions, Lobato appeared slightly agitated. His attorney

asked him to recount his post-1960 run-ins with Jack Taylor’s ranch managers, who

were notorious for intimidating locals and preventing them from entering the Ranch.

Lobato described three confrontations during which Taylor’s men tried to prevent

131 Lobato v. Taylor, Civil Action 81CV5, 1126-1215; Lobato also mentioned this information, in even greater detail, during our oral history interview sessions. 132 Lobato v. Taylor, Civil Action 81CV5, 1196. 133 Lobato v. Taylor, Civil Action 81CV5, 1128. This is the exact testimony of Eugene Lobato, who quoted verbatim the wording from the actual property deed.; personal observations of the author, September 21, 1998.

263

him from accessing and servicing his own water sources. Lobato’s land lay adjacent

to the Taylor Ranch, and in order to access the ditches that carried water to his land—

his own registered ditches—he had to use roads that lay on Taylor’s land. The

Lobato family had done this without interruption for generations, and suddenly one

day he encountered resistance from Taylor’s employees, who claimed he no longer

had the right to set foot on Taylor’s land. During each confrontation, Lobato cited the

fact that his ditches were officially registered with the state, and it was his right to

access them. One time, it went beyond verbal threats to vandalism, as he found his

irrigation head gates blocked with heavy white canvas sheets—an attempt to disrupt

the flow of water from the mountain.134 This violated not only the communal land

rights set forth in the 1863 Beaubien Document, but also the unwritten code of the

acequia system—a communal irrigation system at the heart of the San Luis

community.135

In cross-examination, Albert Wolf, Taylor’s attorney challenged the validity

of Lobato’s recollections. Lobato defended his testimony by essentially defending a

culture based on the oral transmission of knowledge and history. “We...go by what

we have learned from our elders...I say this because my parents, my brothers have

told us. And the same way that they know their history...is because their parents,

their ancestors told them about it...”136 In San Luis, with so few written records about

traditional land use practices, oral history was the basis for disseminating cultural

knowledge and values. The written historical records indicate that many of the early

134 Lobato v. Taylor, Civil Action 81CV5, 1136-1154. 135 In the acequia system, mutual respect for others’ rights to access their water sources is paramount. To intentionally deny a person access to his/her water clearly violates that unwritten code. 136 Lobato v. Taylor, Civil Action 81CV5, 1192.

264

settlers in the San Luis community were illiterate.137 In the early 21st century, oral

tradition remained an important and indeed crucial mode of passing on historical and

cultural knowledge.

Lobato closed his testimony with a description of his feelings for La Sierra.

“There’s a million miles of sierra all over the world...I am concerned with every

mountain in the world...we don’t like for the mountains or anything to be

destroyed...so we are concerned about the sierras all over the world.”138 With this

final statement, Eugene Lobato left the witness stand.

Outside the courtroom, the atmosphere was electric. San Luis natives, who

had moved away, came back for the trial. Plaintiffs walked around like rock stars—

heroes for their willingness to stand up for justice. Attorneys, researchers, and expert

witnesses filled tables in the town’s restaurants, and reporters and photographers

crowded outside the courthouse as witnesses exited after giving their testimony.

There was a real solidarity among those who were “on the people’s side.” The entire

demeanor of the town changed with the beginning of the trial. Business as usual

came to a halt, as everyone focused on the trial. One local activist described the

scene outside the courthouse:

“Aging men and women, taking a break from work on the family farms, getting out of their pick-ups and walking to the courtroom. Still working hard ten years after most folks have called it quits. They were in their thirties when the trouble started with the Taylors. After all these years they remain faithful to their vision of seeing justice done…hoping against hope that the effort was worth it.”139

137 In my research for the Rael v. Taylor lawsuit, I conducted numerous land title searches, looking at Deed books, as well as microfilm copies of old deeds. Many of the early transactions were marked with “X,” suggesting a low literacy level. 138 Lobato v. Taylor, Civil Action 81CV5, 1201. 139 “Full Courtroom witnesses Taylor trial, La Sierra, September 26, 1997.

265

Despite the high hopes, on June 15, 1998, Perricone ruled against the

plaintiffs’ claims. He ruled that the “[p]laintiffs ha[d] not borne their burden of proof

that Beaubien intended to do anything with the mountain tract, except keep it to

himself for whatever reason. He was a developer, land seller and profiteer who

received from the U.S. Congress the land known as the Sangre de Cristo grant

comprising 1 million acres without any legal duty to encumber and portion thereof

with use rights of any nature. He had the right to do with the land as he wished.”

Further, he decided that “any other interpretation of the paper would be an academic

theory rather than sound judicial reasoning.” Thus, Perricone agreed with the 1965

ruling that “the [Beaubien document]...is simply a writing of regulations, and was not

intended as a conveyance, grant or donation of the S de C grant to the first settlers and

their heirs and assigns.”140

Though the ruling was a defeat for the LRC, Judge Perricone made some

important factual findings that would be important in the later Supreme Court

decision. Perhaps most importantly, he determined that all the plaintiffs could trace

their land titles back to the original grant owner, Charles Beaubien. Thus, any rights

that the court found would be granted to them all. He also found that the residents

used their rights from the time of settlement until 1960.141 Thus, although the ruling

was a blow to the morale of the attorneys and the community, it did not extinguish the

LRC’s flame of resistance. Two years later, in 2000, the LRC and its attorneys

appealed the decision before the Colorado Court of Appeals. They alleged that Judge

Perricone made “major errors” in his rulings, as they pushed forward in what they

140 Espinoza v. Taylor, “Findings of Fact, Conclusions of Law and Order” District Court for the County of Costilla, State of Colorado, Civil Action No. 81 CV 5, 7. 141 Golten, “Lobato v. Taylor,” 476-477; Lobato v. Taylor , 13 P. 3d (Colo. App. 2000) at 830

266

believed to be a “landmark legal struggle for justice.”142 The Court of Appeals ruled

against every claim the LRC made, upholding earlier court rulings. Refusing to give

up, the LRC and its legal team then took the case to the Colorado Supreme Court,

arguing that the lower courts had erred on some critical issues. The High Court

responded positively, agreeing to review the case.143

MAKING THE CLAIM FOR GLOBALIZATION

On the grassroots level, LRC activists began speaking about their resistance in

global terms. Since the 1960s, the community’s attorneys and activists had referred

to the 1848 Treaty with Mexico, and the LRC’s cofounders had framed their struggle

in international terms by allying themselves—formally and/or symbolically—with

various groups around the world who were fighting similar land battles, such as the

Palestinian, Puerto Rican, and Salvadoran people. Now, however, those arguments

became stronger and more public. There was a new rhetoric of globalization that

activists and their legal team were tapping into. They took this rhetoric to the streets.

Maria Mondragon Valdez spoke publicly about a “McWorld,” suggesting a

monolithic modern, global culture that threatened their survival and the survival of

traditional people everywhere. “It’s about globalization. It isn’t about Taylor

anymore,” she argued.144

142 Jeffrey Goldstein to Land Rights Council Supporters, March 10, 2000, Personal files of Marianne L. Stoller. One of the main errors the LRC accused Perricone of involved his interpretation of the Beaubien document. 143 Golten, “Lobato v. Taylor,” 477-480; “Colorado Supreme Court Grants Plaintiff’s Review of Land Rights Case,” Ya Basta!, February 2001. 144 Maria Mondragon Valdez, “Forging Paths of Resistance Conference, Metropolitan State College, Denver, Colorado, Public Lecture, September 25, 2002; “The Mystery of Pai: He came, He saw, He bought a mountain, but can Lou Pai make Peace with his Neighbors?,” Westword, April 18-24, 2002.

267

The trend toward globalization that was shaping consumerism,

communication, and trade around the world was beginning to have an impact on the

American judicial system. In 1992, the United States ratified the “International

Covenant on Civil and Political Rights,” and in doing so, the U.S. made a formal

commitment to “integrat[ing] human rights law into its jurisprudence.”145 Legal

scholars picked up on this trend and began making explicit links between the Rael

case and the existence of International charters and bodies of law that would support

the plaintiffs’ claims to their historic land rights. Legal scholars Richard Garcia and

Todd Howland who studied the Rael case cited the “Covenant,” which stated that

ethnic minorities “shall not be denied the right, in community with the other members

of their group, to enjoy their own culture, to profess and practice their own religion,

or to use their own language.”146 Indeed these scholars argued that denying the San

Luis land owners their traditional usufructuary rights constituted a violation of their

human rights.147

The rhetoric of international human rights law proved incredibly empowering

for the activists, providing them with a sense that they were doing something that

would help “indigenous” peoples everywhere—that they were fighting the forces of

globalization that threatened all traditional peoples. They believed that a favorable

court ruling would set important precedent for other oppressed groups. The LRC

introduced the community to their new global approach during its February 2001

145 Richard D. Garcia and Todd Howland, “Determining the Legitimacy of Spanish Land Grants in Colorado: Conflicting Values, Legal Pluralism, and Demystification of the Sangre de Cristo/Rael Case” in UCLA School of Law, Chicano-Latino Law Review, vol. 16, (Winter 1995): 64. 146 Garcia and Howland, “Determining the Legitimacy,” 64. Garcia and Howland cited the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights. 147 Garcia and Howland, “Determining the Legitimacy,” 65-67.

268

conference: “Forum on Land, Treaties, and Law.” About 60 people attended. Like

its earlier conferences, this one aimed to educate the community about the legal and

political issues of the struggle. The early tone of the gathering reflected the

community’s weariness after decades of struggle. It had been a year since they had

filed their appeal to the Supreme Court, and still there was no news.

Unlike earlier LRC gatherings, this one focused on the global ramifications of

the land rights struggle, and the three leading women of the LRC kicked off the

proceedings by placing the struggle in historical and political contexts. As they had

been doing throughout the state, the LRC activists presented the issues of the land

grant movement in terms that touched on both national and international struggles for

equality. Maria Mondragon Valdez spoke about the new more powerful threats to

the community. In 1999, Zach Taylor had sold the ranch to a former Enron

executive, Lou Pai. Pai, who was horn in Nanking, China, earned his B.A. and M.A.

at the University of Maryland and then went on to work for Chevron and then Enron.

Mondragon Valdez argued that Pai represented the forces of globalization that

threatened communities struggling to hold on to their traditional ways. The San Luis

community was one of many poor communities combating domination by wealthy

forces of globalization.148

Activist Glenda Maes likened the San Luis land rights struggle with land

rights issues facing all indigenous peoples, particularly those in the developing world,

especially Latin America. She suggested that the outcome in San Luis might help

148 Maria Mondragon Valdez, presentation, “Forum on Land, Treaties and the Law,” LRC Land Grant Conference, 24 February 2001; Personal observations and notes of author, February 2001; “The Mystery of Pai” Westword,” April 18-24, 2002; “Pai: Divorce precipitated Enron stock sales,” Rocky Mountain News (Denver), February 16, 2002.

269

indigenous people everywhere.149 LRC co-founder Shirley Romero-Otero livened up

the weary audience with her charismatic manner and fiery speech about why the

community needed to continue its resistance. “[T]he most dangerous Chicano is an

educated Chicano,” she declared. She spoke about the need to preserve the San Luis

culture. She paid homage to the ancianos [ancestors] who began this struggle many

years ago. She presented Apolinar Rael as the hero of the movement, the inspiration

for the continued activism of the present. She alluded to his belief that the LRC

would one day be successful. She talked about his encouragement of the youth of the

1970s, who were coming out of the Chicano movement. And, she stressed that the

ancianos chose to pursue the legal route. It was their dedication to the legal strategy

that had, through the years, quelled discontent within the movement. For her, the

land issue was certainly central, but it was just one facet of a larger, national Chicano

struggle for equality.150

Romero-Otero also underscored the role played by women in the community

who stood up for their rights. She spoke of her grandmother, Bernina Vigil y

Romero, who led a group of men, including Apolinar Rael, up to La Sierra, after

Taylor had closed it off to locals. Her grandmother had carried bolt cutters with her,

Romero-Otero noted, and had proceeded to cut the fence and open the land to

locals.151 Women, she argued, had always been key to the preservation of the

community’s culture. They were the backbone of that culture and of the community.

149 Glenda Maes, presentation, “Forum on Land, Treaties, and Law,” LRC Land Grant Conference, 24 February 2001; Personal observations and notes of author, April 2001. 150 Shirley Romero-Otero, presentation, “Forum on Land, Treaties, and Law,” LRC Land Grant Conference, 24 February 2001; Personal observations and notes of author, April 2001. 151 Shirley Romero-Otero, presentation, LRC Land Grant Conference; Personal observations and notes of author, 24 February 2001; Shirley Romero-Otero, interview.

270

In highlighting the historic role of its women, she legitimized her own position as a

community leader, for there were still those in the community who thought it

inappropriate for a mother of four girls to be traveling around giving speeches and

political rallies. She was also calling on other women to take on leadership roles.

The three women stressed that their struggle had additional significance in an

increasingly global society. The community needed to bury its range-war mentality

and focus on the more sophisticated struggle at hand—one that would be fought

primarily in the courts and in the political arena. And, the LRC would be the

organization to take them there.

The LRC’s attorneys also put the struggle in global terms. Watson Gallaher,

the legal team’s international specialist, explained that their issue involved foreign

policy between the U.S. and Mexico, as defined by the 1848 Treaty. Part of

Apolinar’s legacy, he explained, had been the legal case’s significance for other cases

where due process/Constitutional rights were at stake.152 Thus, the attorneys agreed

with the LRC leaders and put their struggle in larger terms, particularly for oppressed

peoples on a global scale. But, in order to accomplish this, the community must

remain united. Gallaher introduced Paolo Freire’s classic work Pedagogy of the

Oppressed, using the book’s thesis as a plea for unity.153 In this book, Freire writes

about oppressed communities that argue amongst themselves and in the end hinder

their own political movements. Gallaher stressed that the local movement would be

most successful if the community remained united and avoided all the trappings that

152 Watson Galleher, public remarks, “Forum on Land, Treaties, and Law,” LRC Land Grant Conference, 24 February 2001. 153 Paulo Freire, Pedagogy of the Oppressed (NY: Continuum International Publishing Group, 1970).

271

usually hinder poor people’s movements.154 Through such conferences, the LRC kept

the grassroots movement alive, while the community waited for the Supreme Court to

decide the case.

THE “MIRACLE RULING”: THE 2002 SUPREME COURT DECISION

The waiting finally ended on June 24, 2002. On that day, the Colorado

Supreme Court stunned even the most devoted LRC activists when it declared that

members of the San Luis community could once again access La Sierra. In a 4-2

ruling, the Court ended decades of land conflict and legal sparring in Southern

Colorado. The ruling shattered previous land grant rulings and set a new legal

precedent in the area of land grant law.155

Chief Justice Mary Mullarkey penned the Court’s decision:

“We find that evidence of traditional settlement practices, repeated references to settlement rights in documents associated with the Sangre de Cristo grant, the one hundred year history of the landowners’ use of the Taylor Ranch, and other evidence of necessity, reliance, and intention support a finding of implied rights in this case. While we reject the landowners’ claims for hunting, fishing, and recreation rights, we find that the landowners have rights of access for grazing, firewood, and timber...”156

By declaring it “the height of arrogance and nothing but a legal fiction for [the

Court] to claim that [it] can interpret this document without putting it in its historical

context,” Mullarkey vindicated the claims of the San Luis people and their attorneys,

which said that the Beaubien document guaranteed their historic land rights.157 In an

154 Watson Galleher, public remarks, LRC Land Grant Conference. 155 “Petition for Certiori to the Colorado Court of Appeals, case no. 98CA1442,” Civil Case No. 00SC527, Lobato v. Taylor, Colorado Supreme Court, June 24, 2002; Golten, “Lobato v. Taylor,” 457-460; “Volunteer Lawyers Make Long-Awaited Victory Possible,” La Sierra, Santa Ana Edicíon, June 2002. 156 “Petition for Certiori,” Lobato v. Taylor, Colorado Supreme Court, June 24, 2002. 157 “Petition for Certiori,” Lobato v. Taylor, Colorado Supreme Court, June 24, 2002.

272

unprecedented move, the Court had considered Mexican law and custom. More

specifically, the Court concluded that “Beaubien meant to grant permanent access

rights that run with the land.”158 Thus, by interpreting the Beaubien document in its

historical context, the Court “acknowledg[ed] the legal relevance of Mexican

property law and cultural norms to resolving contemporary land claims.”159 While

the community still cannot hunt, fish, or recreate on the mountain, residents can

legally access the mountain for grazing, firewood, and timber purposes.

In fact, the elders were right. The courts validated the claims they had made

since 1960. There indeed were documents that validated the local community’s land

rights. The words of LRC president, Shirley Romero-Otero, said it all: “I want to

save this moment. This is the greatest victory we ever had.”160 Jeff Goldstein also

savored the moment. “[T]his is truly an incredible decision. It’s one of the most

aggressive of its kind you’ll see anywhere.”161

Perhaps the best commentary came from Bob Green, who had been at the

forefront of the La Sierra Foundation’s efforts to buy the mountain.

Not many people gave the land rights lawsuit much of a chance...[they] snickered at the notion that justice would ever come around...[and] there were others...who cried...over the loss of their mountain...And then there are the “activists,” those who attended an unending series of meetings, protests, court hearings, and dug down deep in their pockets. Most of these “radicals” defy the image. Some, now in their 70s, were just starting families when the troubles began. The courts knocked them down again and again, and they just stood right back up...It’s a lesson to young people...you never give up.”162

158 “Petition for Certiori,” Lobato v. Taylor, Colorado Supreme Court, June 24, 2002 159 Golten, “Lobato v. Taylor,” 459-463. 160 “What does the Supreme Court decision mean?,” La Sierra, Santa Ana Edition, 2002. 161 “Follow that Story Back at the Ranch,” Westword, July 18, 2002; See also “Taylor Ranch Reopened to Ancestors: 40-year fight takes new turn as Supreme Court rules settlers’ families cannot be denied access,” Rocky Mountain News (Denver), June 25, 2002; “Ruling Opens Gate to Land, Can of Worms,” Albuquerque Journal, July 25, 2004. 162 “A lesson learned,” La Sierra, Santa Ana Edition, July 2002.

273

Green had deferred to the Land Rights Council back in 1997, when negotiations with

the State failed. Although he had been at odds with many of the LRC activists, in the

end, he became their biggest fan.

CONCLUSION

With the 2002 ruling, the LRC emerged victorious. This was quite a feat,

considering that the group had encountered numerous political and social challenges

in the nine years since filing its appeal with the State Supreme Court. In the end, the

LRC activists overcame those obstacles by building upon an existing culture of

opposition that had come to define both the activists and the wider community. More

specifically, the LRC activists had achieved victory by relying on its earlier strategies

of coalitional politics, dedication to a core set of objectives, and an unwavering

nationalist identity of opposition. In refusing to concede any level of self-

determination, the LRC rejected—time and again—“solutions” to the land rights

problem, which would have compromised its historic land rights.

274

CONCLUSION

“THE MOUNTAIN BELONGS TO GOD, AND

WE BELONG TO THE MOUNTAIN”

“I was just amazed at the ability, particularly of the elderly Spanish-speaking people, to just persist against all odds you can imagine. They didn’t have the money, they didn’t have political power, they didn’t have the ownership of the economic apparatus, they didn’t have any power with the courts...they just didn’t give up...It was quite a lesson. Call it the stoic, stolid persistence of a community to sustain its land and its culture, its language, its customs.”1

--John Nichols, The Milagro Beanfield War

The LRC celebrated its historic victory by holding an outdoor, two-day

community gathering, which they called “La Sierra y La Gente: Pasado, Presente y

Futuro” [“La Sierra and the People: Past, Present and Future”]. On the Martinez

ranch in La Valley, in the shadow of the mountain, the gathering consisted of

workshops designed to help locals understand the implications of the ruling and the

management practices that would be required to sustain the mountain’s fragile

ecology, while the community used her resources. The LRC had invited

environmental experts and local elders, who would combine their knowledge and

wisdom in designing environmental management plans. Storytelling sessions, during

which elders could share their oral histories with younger generations, echoed earlier

community gatherings, in which local youths were exposed to the stories and cultural

1 “Truth is stranger,” In These Times, October 28, 2002.

275

lessons of San Luis’ past.2 The agenda and the name of the gathering suggested that

it was not only a celebration of the 2002 High Court ruling, but also a celebration of

the community’s past and just one more way the San Luis community was preserving

that cultural past for future generations.

While “La Sierra y La Gente” may have celebrated the end of the long 42-

year struggle against Taylor to regain their historic land rights, the San Luis

community had even more to celebrate. By the year 2002, they had survived over

140 years of challenges to their land rights. Generations of activists, dating as far

back as the 1860s, had fought off outsiders who saw dollar signs in the rich natural

resources of La Sierra. In doing so, these early activists showed their ability to take

collective, immediate, and at times direct action against those who violated the

community’s rights and principles. Over time, these episodes of social mobilization

led to the formation of a culture of opposition. Resistance became a way of life for

the San Luis community. Residents fashioned a community defined by its acts of

resistance against those who came in and challenged its well-being. And, at the heart

of San Luis’ oppositional culture was its commitment to its relationship with the

natural landscape.

By the 1960s, San Luis activists found themselves involved in a literal range

war, against Jack T. Taylor, who persisted in his efforts to keep locals off La Sierra,

despite acts of defiance by groups of local residents. When Taylor received a

favorable ruling from the District Court in 1965—a ruling which essentially

invalidated the local people’s historic land rights—the local economy bottomed out

2 “La Sierra y La Gente: Pasado, Presente, y Futuro,” La Sierra, Santa Ana edition, July 2002.

276

and many people left for jobs in the cities. Yet, three key individuals arrived on the

scene and rekindled the latent spirit of resistance that defined the people of San Luis.

Relying on their common sense, their people skills, and their heartfelt

commitment to justice, Apolinar Rael, Ray Otero, and Shirley Romero capitalized

upon the long tradition of social mobilization and the political discontent of the

community. Their efforts paid off when on November 1, 1978, they formed the Land

Rights Council of San Luis. The LRC waged a successful movement, focusing on,

but not limiting itself to, its lawsuit against Jack Taylor.

Along the way, the LRC built coalitions with a variety of groups and

individuals. Some shared the LRC’s commitment to militant protest, while others

shared its belief in the U.S. Justice system as an effective tool for achieving justice.

These coalitions proved largely beneficial, as the LRC gained access to additional

resources and built solidarity with groups who shared its vision. In the end, however,

it was the LRC’s refusal to compromise its belief in the importance of self-

determination. The activists simply never gave up on the idea that they should

control their own destiny. When opportunities surfaced—as they did in the 1990s—

to “settle” the lawsuit or to explore compromise solutions with the involvement of

third parties, most LRC activists remained skeptical, while others remained downright

defiant. The LRC saw that such options as ultimately conciliatory and detrimental to

the community’s autonomy, and its leaders steered the movement away from such

approaches, remaining true to its principle of self-determination. By achieving legal

victory in 2002, the LRC had convinced the courts that its rights were indeed valid

277

within the framework of American jurisprudence, setting legal precedent for

generations to come.

While the LRC savored its victory, it became clear that many issues remained

unresolved. As of August 2007, the Court was still in the process of certifying

plaintiffs. According to the ruling, a plaintiff’s land title must be traceable back to

the time of William Gilpin, in order to enjoy the benefits of the ruling. The Court

ordered these title searches to be conducted at “government and Taylor ranch

expense.3 While this process will likely not preclude many from the ruling, it has

proven tedious, time-consuming, and expensive—an expense that the court assigned

to the defendants.

The LRC, meanwhile, has focused its recent efforts on devising a

management plan for the community to follow when using La Sierra’s resources. In

designing such a plan, LRC activists have deferred to the wisdom of the elders and

have sought a plan that combines communal wisdom with the latest scientific

knowledge of ecological systems. Months after the 2002 ruling, while digging

through her files, Gloria Rael Maestas found a document that belonged to her father,

Apolinar Rael. The simple title of the document—“Use Rights”—belied its

significance. Predicting that one day their people would win back their land rights,

Apolinar Rael and his fellow members of La Asociacíon de los Civicos Derechos had

drawn up a plan for the community to manage the resources of La Sierra. The plan

provided detailed instructions for firewood collecting, timber harvesting, grazing,

hunting and fishing, and herb and fruit collecting. Maestas presented the plan to the

3 “Ruling Opens Gate to Land, Can of Worms,” Albuquerque Journal, July 25, 2004; “Court gives 400 access to ranch in San Luis,” The Denver Post, July 27, 2005.

278

LRC, whose members added to it. The plan focused on repairing any ecological

damage done by the current and past owners. It also suggested that community

leaders seek experts to help repair the damage and come up with ecologically-

sustainable ways of using the resources in the future. The plan explicitly stated that

repairing La Sierra would involve “large amounts of physical labor and use of heavy

machinery” and that “local residents will be given employment priority.”4 Under the

leadership President Shirley Romero-Otero, the LRC continues its work on its La

Sierra management plan, knowing that “if [they] fail…[they] never get another

chance to gain that land.”5 In 2003, the LRC received a $75,000 grant from the Wyss

Foundation to prepare a land use plan, which will combine local knowledge with

scientific expertise.6

Before the community can fully implement its management plan, however, it

must contend with the new owners of La Sierra. In 2002, Bobby and Dottie Hill

purchased the mountain from Lou Pai. Multimillionaires from Texas, the Hill’s

initially expressed their desire to be “good neighbors.” Their actions, however, have

indicated that they are not fully satisfied with the current ruling, and they have

attempted, without success, to re-litigate some of the same legal issues and to raise

new ones. For example, the Hill’s have asked the court to place restrictions on

grazing rights—limiting ranchers to a certain number of animals—but the court has

refused. As long as the court stands by its ruling, the San Luis community retains its

4 “Use Rights,” originally authored by La Asociacíon de los Civicos Derechos and revised by the Land Rights Council of San Luis, personal files of Gloria Rael Maestas, San Luis, Colorado; Gloria Rael Maestas, interview; “Ranch Access Upheld,” Rocky Mountain News (Denver), December 10, 2003. 5 “Opening of Access Rights Proves Peaceful at Taylor Ranch near San Luis, Colo.,” The Pueblo Chieftain, June 21, 2004; Shirley Romero-Otero, interview. 6 “Land War Ends,” Rocky Mountain News (Denver), December 13, 2003.

279

rights to graze its livestock and to gather wood from La Sierra.7 If the court,

however, determines that the Hill’s concerns are worth examining, the LRC could

find itself embroiled in another lengthy legal battle—one which they would have to

fight without Jeff Goldstein. After 24 years of pro bono work, Goldstein handed the

reigns over to a new group of attorneys.8 While these new attorneys certainly believe

in the work they are doing—dealing with the residual legal issues in the wake of the

2002 ruling—they lack the militant ethos and appreciation for the people of San Luis

that Goldstein embodied. Nevertheless, these new attorneys forge onward,

representing the LRC as it addresses a new set of challenges.

LRC leaders are not limiting their attention to the ecological health of La

Sierra; rather they are in the process of mapping out the culturally and historically

significant sites on La Sierra. LRC member and consultant, Arnold Valdez, is

compiling oral histories and local knowledge of specific places and landmarks on the

mountain. Examples include, rock piles, carvings in trees, trails, roads, and any area

that holds particular historical, spiritual, or social significance. Once he has compiled

such information, Valdez will create a map of these sites, essentially constructing a

history of the community and its relationship with La Sierra.9 This history will

educate younger generations, who did not grow up on the mountain, about the sacred

bond between their community and La Sierra. By providing the youth with

7 “400 more people granted access to Taylor Ranch,” The Pueblo Chieftain, July 27, 2005; “Sides to meet in land dispute,” The Pueblo Chieftain, February 22, 2007; “Colorado Hispanics Fight for Rights to the Taylor Ranch,” National Public Radio’s Morning Edition, Interview with Eugene Lobato, Arnold Valdez, and Bobby Hill, interview conducted by John Burnett, host Renee Montagne, December 26, 2006; “Ranch use limits sought: Owner wants severe restrictions enacted for claimants’ access,” Rocky Mountain News (Denver), March 17, 2004. 8 Jeff Goldstein, interview. 9 “La Sierra Sustainable Management Plan,” public presentation by Arnold Valdez, “It’s the land grants that bind us!” Colorado and New Mexico Land Grant Conference, August 4, 2007, San Luis, Colorado.

280

knowledge of their ancestors’ connection with the mountain, LRC leaders are

instilling in the next generation a commitment to defend that relationship—a move

that will ensure the survival of the community’s tradition of resistance.

281

BIBLIOGRAPHY

ARCHIVAL AND MANUSCRIPT COLLECTIONS

Beaubien Land Grant Papers. Land Grant Collection, Colorado Historical Society,

Denver, Colorado. Civil Works Administration. “Interviews Collected during 1933-34 for the State

Historical Society of Colorado by Civil Works Administration Workers—Charles E. Gibson Jr. interviewer, ” Colorado Writer’s Project, Volume 349, Norlin Library, University of Colorado at Boulder, Boulder, Colorado.

Gilpin, William Collection. Colorado Historical Society, Denver, CO. Personal Papers, Eugene Martinez, San Francisco, Colorado. Personal Papers, Gloria Rael Maestas, San Luis, Colorado. Personal Papers, Marianne L. Stoller, Colorado Springs, Colorado. Upper Rio Grande Legacy Collection. Colorado Historical Society. Denver,

Colorado. van Diest, Edmund Cornelius Collection. Special Collections Department, Tutt

Library, Colorado College, Colorado Springs, Colorado.

NEWSPAPERS The Alamosa Courier, February 25, 1976; September 28, 1977. Albuquerque Journal, July 25, 2004. The Call (Published by the Communist Party of America), October 16, 1978. Christian Science Monitor, March 3, 1997. Colorado Daily Chieftain, (Pueblo, Colorado), June 8, 1872, June 13, 1872. The Colorado Springs Gazette, June 5, 2002. The Colorado Springs Sun, September 19, 1977. La Cucaracha (Pueblo, Colorado), 1976-81.

282

The Denver Post, 1960-2006. The Denver Post Empire Magazine, April 21, 1985. High Country News (Paonia, Colorado), 1991-1999. In These Times (Denver, Colorado), 2000-2004. La Sierra, (San Luis, Colorado), 1993-2002. The Los Angeles Times, November 17, 1993. The New York Times, March 24, 1997. The Pueblo Chieftain, 1990-2006. The Rocky Mountain News (Denver), 1871-2006. San Luis Valley News, November 23, 1918. The Sun Journal, (New Bern, North Carolina), September 29, 1977. Tierra y Libertad, (Grand Junction, Colorado), 1979-1997. Westword, (Denver, Colorado), 1993-2002. Ya Basta!, (Grand Junction, Colorado), 1997-2002.

INTERVIEWS BY AUTHOR

Elisabeth Arenales, interview by author, 15 October 2006, tape recording, Denver, CO.

Juan Espinosa, interview by author, 13 May 2004, tape recording, Pueblo, CO. Debra Espinosa, interview by author, 13 May 2004, tape recording, Pueblo, CO. Joseph C. Gallegos, interview by author, 18 December 2001, tape recording, San

Luis. CO. Raymond Garcia, interview by author, 17 December 2001, tape recording, San Pablo,

CO.

283

Jeff Goldstein, interview by author, 11 December 2006, tape recording, Denver, CO. Jeff Goldstein, email exchange with author, June 4, 2007. Robert Kino Green, interview by author, 18 December 2002, tape recording, San

Luis, CO. Charlie Jaquez, interview by author, 17 April 2001, author’s handwritten notes, San

Pablo, CO. Eugene Lobato, interview by author, 18 December 2001, tape recording, Chama, CO. Glenda Maes, interview by author, 17 December 2001, tape recording, San Luis, CO. David Martinez, interview by author, 5 January 2007, tape recording, Denver, CO. David Martinez, email exchange with author, September 26, 2007 Eugene Martinez, interview by author, 17 December 2001, San Luis, CO. Agatha Medina, interview by author, 4 August 2007, tape recording, San Francisco,

CO. Levi Medina, interview by author, 4 August 2007, tape recording, San Francisco, CO. Gloria Rael Maestas, interview by author, 18 December 2002, tape recording, San

Luis, CO. Shirley Romero-Otero, interview by author, 9 June 2004, tape recording, Denver, CO. Dr. Marianne Stoller, interview by author, 15 July 2004, author’s handwritten notes,

Colorado Springs, CO. Father Angelo Urdiain, interview by author, 10 June 2004, author’s handwritten

notes, Denver, CO.

OTHER INTERVIEWS

“Colorado Hispanics Fight for Rights to the Taylor Ranch,” National Public Radio’s Morning Edition, Interview with Eugene Lobato and Bobby Hill, interview conducted by John Burnett, host Renee Montagne, December 26, 2006.

284

INTERNET MATERIAL

Bell, June D. “Jeffrey Goldstein: Land Rights Battle goes 24 Years—and Counting.” The National Law Journal. January 3, 2005. <www.law.com/jsp/nlj/articles/article5.jsp>

Cable News Network. “Mexicans close to getting land-use rights,” <<CNN.com>>.

11 December 2003. Matthews, Kay. “Sangre de Cristo Land Grant Activists Tell Their Story at the Treaty

of Guadalupe Hidalgo Conmemoria [sic] at the Onate Center.” La Jicarita News. <www.lajicarita.org/03mar.htm> March 2003.

Matthews, Kay. “Land Grant Activists Have Much to Celebrate This Year.” La

Jicarita News. <www.lajicarita.org/04mar.htm> March 2004. Sierra Club. “Action on Endangered San Luis Watershed,”

www.rmc.sierraclub.org/pandp1997-10/sanluis.html. October 1997.

GOVERNMENT AND LEGAL DOCUMENTS AND CASES “Applicable Excerpt from the “Treaty of Peace, Friendship, Limits and Settlement

with the Republic of Mexico,”” 9 Stat. 922, Commonly Referred to as the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, dated February 2, 1848, Plaintiff’s Exhibit 2/81CV5 In Lobato v. Taylor

Costilla County, “Agreement between Beaubien’s executors and William Gilpin,

Deed book 1, pages 241-242, April 7, 1864, Clerk and Recorder’s Office, San Luis, Colorado.

Costilla County, “The Beaubien Document,” Clerk and Recorder’s Office, Deed

Book 1, page 256, 1863, San Luis, Colorado Costilla County, “Deposition,” informally called the “re-recording of the Beaubien

document, with affidavits, the parties stipulate to the admissibility of these documents.” Deed book 98, p. 577, Clerk and Recorder’s Office, San Luis, Colorado.

Espinoza, et. al, and Gallegos, intervener v. Taylor, Costilla County District Court,

Civil No. 81CV5 Lobato v. Taylor, 70 P. 3d 1152 (Colo. 2003)

285

New Mexico State Planning Office. Land Title Study, by David W. King and White, Koch, Kelley, and McCarthy, Attorneys at Law, Santa Fe, 1971.

“Order,” Jack T. Taylor, Jr. v. Ernest Sandoval, et. al. Costilla County District Court,

Civil Action No. 74-C-734. Rael, et. al. v. Taylor, Costilla County District Court, Civil No. 81CV5. Sanchez v. Taylor, 377 F. 2d 733, (10th Cir. 1967) Stoller, Marianne L. “Preliminary Manuscript on the History of the Sangre de Cristo

Land Grant and the Claims of the People of the Culebra River Villages on their Lands,” submitted as expert witness report for Rael, et. al. v. Taylor, Costilla County District Court, No. 81CV5.

Stoller, Marianne L. “Report on the History and Claims for Usufruct Rights by the

Residents of the Culebra River Villages on Portions of the Sangre de Cristo Land Grant,” submitted as expert witness report for Rael, et. al. v. Taylor, Costilla County District Court, No. 81CV5 and Espinoza, et. al, and Gallegos, intervener v. Taylor, Costilla County District Court, No. 81CV5.

John G. Tameling v. The United States Freehold and Emigration Co., 93 U.S. (1876) J.T. Taylor, Jr. v. Pablita Jaquez, et. al. Costilla County Court, Civil No. 6906

PUBLISHED AND UNPUBLISHED PRIMARY SOURCES Alianza Federal. “The Spanish Land Grant Question Examined,” (distributed at

“Forum on Land, Treaties, and Law” Conference, sponsored by Land Rights Council of San Luis, San Luis, Colorado), 1966.

Blackmore, William. Colorado: Its Resources, Parks, and Prospects: An Account of

he Trenchera and Costilla Estates in the San Luis Park. London: Sampson, Lowe, Son, Marsten Booksellers, 1869.

Centennial High School Journalism Class, Adobe, vol. 1, no. 3. Sponsored by the

Colorado Council on the Arts and Humanities, 1976. Gilpin, William. The Mission of the North American People: Geographical, Social,

and Political Philadelphia: J.B. Lippincott & Co., 1874. La Sierra Foundation of San Luis, “Position Paper,” Submitted and Sponsored by The

Costilla County Conservancy District, San Luis, CO, October 1993.

286

Land Rights Council of San Luis. La Merced Sangre de Cristo: El Valle de San Luis, 1980 (The Sangre de Cristo land grant: San Luis Valley, 1980). Chama, Colorado, 1980.

Land Rights Council of San Luis, Inc., Brochure, Chama, Colorado. (date unknown). Morey Mercantile Company. “Salazar and Gallegos,” pamphlet, Colorado

Collections, Adams State Library, 1957. Russel, Chas. W. “The Mexican Land Grants: by One of the Settlers.” The Land for

the People: The National Anti-Land Grant Monthly, July 1890. Sandoval, Ronald A. and Marianne Stoller. “Research Design: Family History and

Land Use in the Culebra Valley.” Submitted to unknown organization by Charlie Jaquez, 1983.

The Solis Group, “Market Blueprint for the La Sierra Foundation,” 3 January 1994. Town Council of San Luis Board of Directors. “Welcome to San Luis: Oldest Town

in Colorado, 1851” booklet, San Luis Museum and Cultural Center, 1981.

VIDEO RECORDINGS AND PRESS RELEASES “Cesar Chavez Memorial Lecture,” Ray Otero, Red Rocks Community College,

Lakewood, Colorado, video recording, 30 March 2006. “Fort Collins and Colorado State University Celebrate the Legacy of Cesar Chavez,”

Press Release, Colorado State University, Fort Collins, CO, 21 March 2003. “La Tierra, Last Stand in Costilla County,” produced by Red Star Productions, video

recording, 1980. “Sin Agua, No Hay Vida,” produced by Wet Mountain Productions, video recording,

1999.

THESES, UNPUBLISHED WORKS, AND PUBLIC PRESENTATIONS Andrews, John Philip. “History of Rural Spanish Settlement and Land Use in the

Upper Culebra Basin of the San Luis Valley, Costilla County, Colorado,” Master of Arts Thesis, Department of Geography, University of Colorado, 1972.

287

Galleher, Watson. Public remarks, “Forum on Land, Treaties, and Law,” LRC Land Grant Conference, 24 February 2001, San Luis, author’s notes.

Goldstein, Jeff. Public remarks, “Forum on Land, Treaties, and Law,” LRC Land

Grant Conference, 24 February 2001, San Luis, author’s notes. . Maes, Glenda. Public remarks, “Forum on Land, Treaties, and Law,” LRC Land

Grant Conference, 24 February 2001, San Luis, author’s notes. Mondragon-Valdez, Maria. Public presentation, “Beyond Chicanismo,” public

presentation. At “Forging Paths of Resistance” Conference, Metropolitan State College of Denver, 25 September 2002, author’s notes.

______. Public remarks, “Forum on Land, Treaties, and Law,” LRC Land Grant

Conference, 24 February 2001, San Luis, author’s notes. ______. “A Critique on Race and Politics in the United States: Drawing the Line

between History and Myth,” unpublished paper, date unknown, photocopy in possession of author.

Otero, Ray. Public remarks, “Forum on Land, Treaties, and Law,” LRC Land Grant

Conference, 24 February 2001, San Luis, author’s notes. Romero-Otero, Shirley. Public remarks, “Forum on Land, Treaties, and Law,” LRC

Land Grant Conference, 24 February 2001, San Luis, author’s notes. ______. Public remarks, “It’s the land grants that bind us!” Colorado and New

Mexico Land Grant Conference, San Luis, 4 August 2007, author’s notes. Valdez, Arnold. “La Sierra Sustainable Management Plan,” public presentation.

Colorado and New Mexico Land Grant Conference, San Luis, August 4, 2007. Vigil, Charlie A. “History and Folklore of San Pedro and San Pablo, Colorado,”

Master of Arts Thesis, Adams State College, 1956

CONFERENCE PAPERS Stoller, Marianne L., “The Sangre de Cristo Grant: A Speck of Trouble in Prospect,”

Paper Presented at the Western Social Science Association Annual Meeting, Albuquerque, NM, 1980. Photocopied.

______. “The Surveys of the Sangre de Cristo Grant, Or, How to Expand the

Boundaries,” Paper Presented at the Western Social Science Association Annual Meeting, Albuquerque, NM, 1983. Photocopied.

288

Stoller, Marianne L. and Eric L. Peters. “The Tameling Decision,” Paper Presented at

the American Society for Ethnohistory Annual Meeting, Colorado Springs, Colorado, 1981. Photocopied.

BOOKS AND ARTICLES Acuna, Rodolfo F. Anything But Mexican: Chicanos in Contemporary Los Angeles.

New York: Verso, 1996. ______. “Truth and Objectivity in Chicano History.” In Voices of a New Chicano(a)

History, edited by Refugio I. Rochin and Dennis N. Valdes. East Lansing: Michigan State University Press, 2000.

Almaguer, Tomas. Racial Fault Lines: The Historical Origins of White Supremacy in

California. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1994. Alonzo, Armando. Tejano Legacy: Rancheros and Settlers in South Texas, 1734-

1900. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1998. Anzaldua, Gloria. Borderlands/La Frontera: The New Mestiza. San Francisco: Aunt

Lute Books, 1987. Armstrong, Ruth. Promised Land: A History of the Sangre de Cristo Land Grant.

New York: Forbes, Inc., 1978. Baca, Ray Michael. Brotherhood of the Light: A Novel About the Penitentes and the

Crypto-Jews of New Mexico. Mountain View, CA: Floricanto Press, 2005. Baker, Galen R. “Excavating Fort Massachusetts,” The Colorado Magazine, Vol.

XLV, No. 2 (1968): 143-161. Bancroft, Hubert Howe. History of the Life of William Gilpin. San Francisco: The

History Company Publishers, 1889. Basch, Linda, Nina Glick Schiller, and Cristina Szanton Blanc. Nations Unbound:

Transnational Projects, Postcolonial Predicaments, and Deterritorialized Nation-States. Langehorne PA: Gordon and Breach Publishers, 1994.

Basso, Keith. Wisdom Sits in Places: Landscape and Language Among the Western

Apache. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1996. Bays, Sharon. “Work, Politics, and Coalition Building: Hmong Women’s Activism in

a Central California Town.” In Community Activism and Feminist Politics:

289

Organizing Across Race, Class, and Gender, edited by Nancy A. Naples. New York: Routledge, 1998.

Bean, Luther. Land of the Blue Sky People: A Story of the San Luis Valley. Alamosa,

CO: Ye Olde Print Shoppe, 1972. Blight, David W. Race and Reunion: The Civil War in American Memory.

Cambridge: The Belknap Press of Harvard University, 2001. Brayer, Herbert. William Blackmore: The Spanish-Mexican Land Grants of New

Mexico and Colorado, 1863-1878. Denver: Bradford-Robinson, 1949. Briggs, C.L., and J. R. Van Ness, eds. Land, Water, and Culture: New Perspectives

on Hispanic Land Grants. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1987. Brooks, James F. Captives and Cousins: Slavery, Kinship, and Community in the

Southwest Borderlands. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2002. Brown, F. Lee and Helen M. Ingram. “The Community Value of Water: Implications

for the Rural Poor in the Southwest.” In A Sense of the American West: An Environmental History Anthology, edited by James E. Sherow. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1998.

Caballero, Cesar. Chicano Organizations Directory. New York: Neal Shuman

Publishers, Inc., 1985. Camarillo, Albert. Chicanos in a Changing Society: From Mexican Pueblos to

American Barrios in Santa Barbara and Southern California, 1848-1930. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1979.

Carlson, A. W., “Rural Settlement Patters in the San Luis Valley: A Comparative

Study,” The Colorado Magazine, Vol. 44, No. 2 (1967): 111-128. Castaneda, Antonia. “Women of Color and the Rewriting of Western History: The

Discourse, Politics, and Decolonization of History.” Pacific Historical Review. 61:4 (November 1992), 501-533.

Castro, Tony. Chicano Power: The Emergence of Mexican America. New York: E.P.

Dutton & Co., 1974. Chacón, Rafael. Legacy of Honor: The Life of Rafael Chacon, a Nineteenth-Century

New Mexican, edited by Jacqueline Dorgan Meketa. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1986.

Chafe, William H. The Unfinished Journey: America Since World War II. New York:

Oxford University Press, 1995.

290

Chavez, John R. Eastside Landmark: A History of the East Los Angeles Community

Union, 1968-1993. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1998. Cheetham, Francis. “The Early Settlements of Southern Colorado.” The Colorado

Magazine, Vol. V, No. 1 (1928): 1-8. Chun, Gloria Heyung. Of Orphans and Warriors: Inventing Chinese American

Culture and Identity. New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 2000. Crawford, Stanley. Mayordomo: Chronicle of an Acequia in northern New Mexico.

New York: Anchor Books, 1988. Cronon, William. Changes in the Land: Indians, Colonists and the Ecology of New

England. New York: Hill and Wang, 1983. De Baca, Vincent C., ed., La Gente: Hispano History and Life in Colorado. Denver:

Colorado Historical Society, 1998. deBuys, William. Enchantment and Exploitation: The Life and Hard Times of a New

Mexico Mountain Range. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1985. Deloria Jr., Vine, and Clifford Lytle. The Nations Within: The Past and Future of

American Indian Sovereignty. New York: Pantheon Books, 1984. Dening, Greg. Mr. Bligh’s Bad Language: Passion, Power and Theatre on the

Bounty. New York: Cambridge University Press, 1992. Deutsch, Sara. No Separate Refuge: Culture, Class, and Gender on an Anglo-

Hispanic Frontier in the American Southwest, 1880-1940. New York: Oxford University Press, 1987.

Dittmer, John. Local People: The Struggle for Civil Rights in Mississippi. Chicago:

University of Illinois Press, 1994. Driscoll, Barbara A. Chicana Historiography: A Research Note Regarding Mexican

American Archival Studies.” In Chicana Voices: Intersections of Class, Race, and Gender, edited by Ricardo Romo. Austin: University of Texas, 1986.

Duffus, R.L. The Santa Fe Trail. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press,

1999. Ebright, Malcolm, ed. Spanish and Mexican Land Grants and the Law. Manhattan,

KS: Sunflower University Press, 1989.

291

______. “New Mexican Land Grants: The Legal Background.” In Land, Water, and Culture: New Perspectives on Hispanic Land Grants, edited by Charles L. Briggs and John R. Van Ness. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1987.

______. Land Grants and Lawsuits in Northern New Mexico. Albuquerque:

University of New Mexico Press, 1994. Escobar, Edward J. Race, Politics, and the Making of a Political Identity: Mexican

Americans and the Los Angeles Police Department, 1900-1945. Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1999.

Faxon, Tom. An Oral History: Raphael J. Moses.” The Colorado Lawyer, Vol. 27,

No. 3 (March 1998): 15-18. Flores, Dan. “Spirit of Place and the Value of Nature in the American West.” In A

Sense of the American West: An Environmental History Anthology, edited by James E. Sherow. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1998.

Flower, Jr., Judson Harold. Mormon Colonization of the San Luis Valley, Colorado,

1878-1900. Mesa, AZ: H.H. Haynie, 1981. Foner, Eric, ed.. The New American History. Philadelphia: Temple University Press,

1997. ______. The Story of American Freedom. New York: W.W. Norton & Company,

1998. Forrest, Suzanne. Preservation of the Village: New Mexico’s Hispanics and the New

Deal. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1989. Freire, Paulo. Pedagogy of the Oppressed, translated by Myra Bergman Ramos. New

York: Herder and Herder, 1970. Gallegos, Joseph C. “Acequia Tales.” In Subversive Kin: Chicano Culture, Ecology,

Politics, ed. Devon Peña. Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 1998. Garcia, Alma M. “Studying Chicanas: Bringing Women into the Frame of Chicano

Studies.” In Chicana Voices: Intersections of Class, Race, and Gender, edited by Ricardo Romo. Austin: University of Texas, 1986.

Garcia, Ignacio. United We Win: The Rise and Fall of La Raza Unida Party. Tucson:

University of Arizona Press, 1989. ______. “Constructing the Chicano Movement: Synthesis of a Militant Ethos,”

Perspectives in Mexican American Studies, Vol. 6 (1997): 1-19.

292

______. Viva Kennedy: Mexican Americans in Search of Camelot. College Station: Texas A&M Press, 2000.

Garcia, Mario T. Mexican Americans: Leadership, Ideology, and Identity, 1930-1960.

New Haven: Yale University Press, 1989. ______. “Mexican American Labor and the Left: The Asociacíon Nacíonal Mexico-

Americana, 1949-1954.” In The Chicano Struggle: Analyses of Past and Present Efforts, edited by Gary D. Keller. Binghamton, NY: Bilingual Press, 1984.

Garcia, Richard, ed. The Chicanos in America 1540-1974: A Chronology and Fact

Book. New York: Oceana Publications, Inc., 1977. Garcia, Richard D. and Todd Howland. “Determining the Legitimacy of Spanish

Land Grants in Colorado: Conflicting Values, Legal Pluralism, and Demystification of the Sangre De Cristo/Rael Case.” Chicano-Latino Law Review 16 (1995): 39-68.

Getz, Lynne Marie. “Lost Momentum: World War II and the Education of Hispanos

in New Mexico.” In Mexican Americans and World War II, edited by Maggie Rivas-Rodriguez. Austin: University of Texas Press, 2005.

Golten, Ryan. “Lobato v. Taylor: How the Villages of the Rio Culebra, The Colorado

Supreme Court, and the Restatement of Servitudes Bailed Out the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo.” Natural Resources Journal 45 (2005): 457-494.

Gomez Quinones, Juan. Chicano Politics: Reality and Promise, 1940-1990.

Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1990. Gonzales, Phillip B. “The Hispano Homeland Debate: New Lessons.” Perspectives in

Mexican American Studies, Vol. 6 (1997): 123-141. ______. “Protest and Affirmative Action in the 1980s: The Case of the University of

New Mexico.” In Chicano Politics and Society in the Late Twentieth Century, edited by David Montejano. Austin: University of Texas Press, 1999.

Gonzales-Berry, Erlinda, and David R. Maciel, eds.. The Contested Homeland: A

Chicano History of New Mexico. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 2000.

González, Deena J. Refusing the Favor: The Spanish-Mexican Women of Santa Fe,

1820-1880. New York: Oxford University Press, 1999. Gordon-McCutchan, R.C. The Taos Indians and the Battle for Blue Lake. Santa Fe:

Red Crane Books, 1991.

293

Gottlieb, Richard. Forcing the Spring: The Transformation of the American Environmental Movement. Washington D.C.: Island Press, 1993.

Grosz, Terry. The Thin Green Line: Outwitting Poachers, Smugglers, and Market

Hunters. Boulder: Johnson Books, 2004. Guglielmo, Thomas. White on Arrival: Italians, Race, Color, and Power in Chicago,

1890-1945. New York: Oxford University Press, 2003. Gutiérrez, David. Walls and Mirrors: Mexican Americans, Mexican Immigrants, and

the Politics of Ethnicity in the American Southwest. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1995.

Gutiérrez, Ramón. When Jesus Came, the Corn Mothers Went Away: Marriage,

Sexuality, and Power in New Mexico, 1800-1846. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1991.

______. “Community, Patriarchy, and Individualism: The Politics of the Chicano

Movement and the Dream of Equality.” American Quarterly, Vol. 45, No. 1 (March 1993): 44-72.

______. “Chicano History: Paradigm Shifts and Shifting Boundaries.” In Voices of a

New Chicano(a) History, edited by Refugio I. Rochin and Dennis N. Valdes. East Lansing: Michigan State University Press, 2000.

Hafen, L.R. “Status of the San Luis Valley, 1850-1861.” The Colorado Magazine,

Vol. III, No. 2 (1926): 46-49. ______. “Mexican Land Grants in Colorado.” The Colorado Magazine, Vol. IV, No.

3 (1927): 81-93. Hall, G. Emlen. Four Leagues of Pecos: A Legal History of the Pecos Grant, 1800-

1933. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1984. Haney López, Ian F. Racism on Trial: The Chicano Fight for Justice. Cambridge: The

Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 2003. Herzog, Stephen J. “Political Coalitions Among Ethnic Groups in the Southwest.” In

Chicanos and Native Americans: The Territorial Minorities, edited by Rudolph O. de la Garza, Z. Anthony Kruszewski, and Tomás A. Arciniega. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall, Inc., 1973.

Hine, Robert V. and John Mack Faragher. The American West: A new interpretive

history. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2000.

294

Isern, Thomas D. “Colorado Territory.” Journal of the West Vol. 16, No. 2 (1977): 57-71.

James, Daniel. Doña María’s Story: Life, History, Memory, and Political Identity.

Durham: Duke University Press, 2000. Jankowski, Martín Sanchez. “Where Have All the Nationalists Gone?: Change and

Persistence in Radical Political Attitudes among Chicanos, 1976-1986.” In Chicano Politics and Society in the Late Twentieth Century, edited by David Montejano. Austin: University of Texas Press, 1999.

Johnson, Frank Minitree. “The Colorado-New Mexico Boundary.” The Colorado

Magazine, Vol. IV, No. 3, (1927): 112-115. Johnson, Susan Lee. Roaring Camp: The Social World of the California Gold Rush.

New York: W.W. Norton & Co., 2000. Johnston, Dick. The Taylor Ranch War: Property Rights Die. Bloomington, IN:

Authorhouse, 2006. Kaplowitz, Craig A. LULAC, Mexican Americans, and National Policy. College

Station, TX: Texas A&M University Press, 2005. Karnes, Thomas L. William Gilpin: Western Nationalist. Austin: University of Texas

Press, 1970. Kelley, Robin D.G. “’We are not what we seem’: Rethinking Black Working-Class

Opposition in the Jim Crow South.” The Journal of American History, Vol. 80, No. 1 (June 1993): 75-112.

Kessel, John L. Spain in the Southwest: A Narrative History of Colonial New Mexico,

Arizona, Texas, and California. Norman, OK: University of Oklahoma Press, 2002.

Krauss, Celene. “Challenging Power: Toxic Waste Protests and the Politicization of

White, Working-class Women.” In Community Activism and Feminist Politics: Organizing Across Race, Class, and Gender, edited by Nancy A. Naples. New York: Routledge, 1998.

Kurlansky, Mark. 1968: The Year that Rocked the World. New York: Ballatine

Books, 2004. Lacompte, Janet. ”Manuel Armijo and the Americans.” In Spanish and Mexican Land

Grants in New Mexico and Colorado. Edited by John R. Van Ness and Christine M. Van Ness. Santa Fe: The Center for Land Grant Studies and the Colorado Humanities Program, 1980.

295

______. “The Independent Women of Hispanic New Mexico, 1821-1846.” In

Western Historical Quarterly 22 (January 1981): 17-35. Lamar, Howard R. “Land Policy in the Spanish Southwest, 1846-1891.” In Land

Grants, Housing, and Political Power, volume 6 in Latinos in the United States: History, Law, and Perspective, edited by Antoinette Sedillo Lopez. New York: Garland Publishing, Inc., 1995.

______. The Far Southwest, 1846-1912: A Territorial History. Albuquerque:

University of New Mexico, 2000. Limerick, Patricia Nelson. The Legacy of Conquest: The Unbroken Past of the

American West. New York: Norton, 1987. Limón, José E. Dancing with the Devil: Society and Cultural Poetics in Mexican-

American South Texas. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1994. Lopez, Lalo. “Legacy of a Land Grab: As the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo’s 150th

anniversary nears, Latinos examine its implications.” Hispanic Magazine (September 1997): 22-28.

López Tijerina, Reies, translated and edited by José Angel Gutiérrez. They Called Me

“King Tiger”: My Struggle for the Land and Our Rights. Houston: Arte Público Press, 2000.

Lopez-Tushar, Olibama. The People of El Valle: A History of the Spanish Colonials

in the San Luis Valley. Pueblo, CO: El Escritorio, 1992. MacCameron, Robert. “Environmental Change in Colonial New Mexico.” In A Sense

of the American West: An Environmental History Anthology, edited by James E. Sherow. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1998.

Magoc, Chris J. So Glorious a Landscape: Nature and the Environment in American

History and Culture. Wilmington DE: Scholarly Resources Inc., 2002. Mares, E.A. I Returned and Saw Under the Sun: Padre Martinez of Taos.

Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1989. Mariscal, George. Aztlan and Vietnam: Chicano and Chicana Experiences of the

War. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1999. ______. “Left Turns in the Chicano Movement, 1965-1975.” Monthly Review. (July-

August 2002): 59-69.

296

______. Brown-Eyed Children of the Sun: Lessons from the Chicano Movement, 1965-1975. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 2005.

Matsumoto, Valerie. Farming the Home Place: A Japanese American Community in

California, 1919-1982. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1993. Matusow, Allen J. The Unraveling of America: A History of Liberalism in the 1960s.

San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1984. McEvoy, Arthur. The Fisherman’s Problem: Ecology and Law in the California

Fisheries, 1850-1980. New York: Cambridge University Press, 1986. McGeagh, Robert. Juan de Onate’s Colony in the Wilderness: An Early History of the

American Southwest. Santa Fe: Sunstone Press, 1990. McNamara, Patrick H. “Catholicism, Assimilation, and the Chicano Movement: Los

Angeles as a Case Study.” In Chicanos and Native Americans: The Territorial Minorities, edited by Rudolph O. de la Garza, Z. Anthony Kruszewski, and Tomás A. Arciniega. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall, Inc., 1973.

McWilliams, Carey. North From Mexico: The Spanish-Speaking People of the United

States. New York: Greenwood Press, 1968. Menchaca, Martha. Recovering History, Constructing Race: The Indian, Black, and

White Roots of Mexican Americans. Austin: University of Texas Press, 2001. Merchant, Carolyn. “Shades of Darkness: Race and Environmental History.”

Environmental History, Vol. 8, No. 3, (July 2003): 380-394. Meyer, Michael C., and William Beezley. The Oxford History of Mexico. New York:

Oxford University Press, 2000. Meyer Gallegos, Rene. “Ferd Meyer: Early Trader.” The Colorado Magazine. Vol.

28, No. 2 (April 1951): 94-97. Mitchell, Don. The Lie of the Land: Migrant Workers and the California Landscape.

Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1996. Mitchell, Pablo. Coyote Nation: Sexuality, Race, and Conquest in Modernizing New

Mexico, 1880-1920. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 2005. Montejano, David. Anglos and Mexicans in the Making of Texas, 1836-1986. Austin:

University of Texas Press, 1987.

297

______. “On the Question of Inclusion.” In Chicano Politics and Society in the Late Twentieth Century, edited by David Montejano. Austin: University of Texas Press, 1999.

Montgomery, Charles. The Spanish Redemption: Heritage, Power, and Loss on New

Mexico’s Upper Rio Grande. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2002. Montoya, María E. “Dividing the Land: The Taylor Ranch and the Case for

Preserving the Limited Access Commons.” Land in the American West, ed. William G. Robbins and James C. Foster. Seattle: University of Washington Press, 2000.

______. Translating Property: The Maxwell Land Grant and the Conflict Over Land

in the American West. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2002. Morrisey, Katherine G. Mental Territories: Mapping the Inland Empire. Ithaca:

Cornell University Press, 1997. Morrow, Honorable William W., Spanish and Mexican Private Land Grants. Los

Angeles: Bancroft-Whitney Company, 1923. Munoz, Jr., Carlos, and Charles Henry. “Rainbow Coalitions in Four Big Cities: San

Antonio, Denver, Chicago, and Philadelphia.” In PS, vol. 19, No. 3 (Summer, 1986): 598-609.

______. Youth, Identity, Power: The Chicano Movement. New York: Verso, 1989. Myers, Joan, and Marc Simmons. Along the Santa Fe Trail. Albuquerque: University

of New Mexico Press, 1986. Nankivell, Major John H. “Fort Garland, Colorado,” The Colorado Magazine, Vol.

XVI, No. 1, (1939): 13-28. Naples, Nancy A. “Women’s Community Activism.” In Community Activism and

Feminist Politics: Organizing Across Race, Class, and Gender, edited by Nancy A. Naples. New York: Routledge, 1998.

Navarro, Armando. La Raza Unida Party: A Chicano Challenge to the U.S. Two-

Party Dictatorship. Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 2000. ______. Mexican American Youth Organization: Avant Garde of the Chicano

Movement in Texas. Austin: University of Texas Press, 1995. ______. “The Post Mortem Politics of the Chicano Movement, 1975-1996,”

Perspectives in Mexican American Studies, Vol. 6 (1997): 52-79.

298

______. The Crystal Experiment: A Chicano Struggle for Community Control. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1998.

Nichols, John. The Milagro Beanfield War. New York: Henry Holt and Company,

LLC, 1974. Nieto-Phillips, John M. The Language of Blood: The Making of Spanish-American

Identity in New Mexico, 1880s-1930s. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 2004.

Novick, Peter. That Noble Dream: The “Objectivity Question” and the American

Historical Profession. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988. Ogbar, Jeffrey O.G. Black Power, Radical Politics and African American Identity.

Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2004. Omi, Michael, and Howard Winant. Racial Formation in the United States from the

1960s to the 1990s. New York: Routledge, 1994. Oropeza, Lorena. “Making History: The Chicano Movement.” In Voices of a New

Chicano/a History, edited by Refugio I. Rochín and Dennis N. Valdés. East Lansing: Michigan State University Press, 2000.

______. Raza, Si! Guerra, No!: Chicano Protest and Patriotism during the Viet Nam

War Era. Los Angeles: University of California Press, 2005. Pardo, Mary. “Gendered Citizenship: Mexican American Women and Grassroots

Activism in East Los Angeles.” In Chicano Politics and Society in the Late Twentieth Century, edited by David Montejano. Austin: University of Texas Press, 1999.

______. “Mexican American Women Grassroots Community Activists: Mothers of

East Los Angeles.” In A Sense of the American West: An Environmental History Anthology, edited by James E. Sherow. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1998.

Park, Lisa Sun-Hee. “Navigating the Anti-Immigrant Wave: The Korean Women’s

Hotline and the Politics of Community.” In Community Activism and Feminist Politics: Organizing Across Race, Class, and Gender, edited by Nancy A. Naples. New York: Routledge, 1998.

Parkhill, Forbes. “Colorado’s First Survey.” The Colorado Magazine, Vol. XXXIII,

No. 3, (1956): 177-180.

299

Peck, Gunther. “The Nature of Labor: Fault Lines and Common Ground in Environmental and Labor History.” Environmental History 11 (April 2006): 212-238.

Peña, Devon G. “The Capitalist Tool, the Lawless, and the Violent: A Critique of

Recent Southwestern Environmental History.” In Chicano Culture, Ecology, Politics: Subversive Kin, edited by Devon G. Peña. Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 1998.

______. “A Gold Mine, an Orchard, and the Eleventh Commandment.” In Chicano

Culture, Ecology, Politics: Subversive Kin, edited by Devon G. Peña. Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 1998.

______. Mexican Americans and the Environment: Tierra y Vida. Tucson: University

of Arizona Press, 2005. Peña, Devon and Gregory Hicks. “Community Acequias in Colorado’s Rio Culebra

Watershed: A Customary Commons in the Domain of Prior Appropriations,” 74 University of Colorado Law Review 74 (2003): 387-486.

Peña, Devon and Maria Mondragon-Valdez. “The Brown and the Green Revisited:

Chicanos and Environmental Politics in the Upper Rio Grande.” In The Struggle for Ecological Democracy: Environmental Justice Movements in the United States, edited by Daniel Faber. New York: The Guilford Press, 1998.

Peniel, Joseph E., ed., The Black Power Movement: Rethinking the Civil Rights-

Black Power Era. New York: Routledge, 2006. Perez, Emma. The Decolonial Imaginary: Writing Chicanas into History.

Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1999. Pisani, Donald J. To Reclaim a Divided West: Water, Law, and Public Policy, 1848-

1902. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1992. Pitti, Stephen J. The Devil in Silicon Valley: Northern California, Race, and Mexican

Americans. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2003. Piven, Frances Fox, and Richard A. Cloward. Poor People’s Movements: Why They

Succeed, How They Fail. New York: Vintage Books, 1979. Portelli, Alessandro. The Death of Luigi Trastulli and Other Stories: Form and

Meaning in Oral History. Albany: State University of New York Press, 1991. Pulido, Laura. Black, Brown, Yellow, and Left: Radical Activism in Los Angeles.

Berkeley: University of California Press, 2006.

300

______. “Ecological Legitimacy and Cultural Essentialism: Hispano Grazing in the

Southwest.” In The Struggle for Ecological Democracy: Environmental Justice Movements in the United States, edited by Daniel Faber. New York: The Guilford Press, 1998.

______. Environmentalism and Economic Justice: Two Chicano Struggles in the

Southwest. Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 1996. Pycior, Julie Leininger. LBJ and Mexican Americans: The Paradox of Power. Austin:

University of Texas Press, 1997. Reséndez, Andrés. Changing National Identities at the Frontier: Texas and New

Mexico, 1800-1850. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2004. Rivera, José A. Acequia Culture: Water, Land, and Community in the Southwest.

Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1998. Rodríguez, Roberto. “The Origins and History of the Chicano Movement.” In Voices

of a New Chicano/a History. East Lansing: Michigan State University, 2000. Rodríguez, Sylvia. “Land Water and Ethnic Identity in Taos.” In Land Grants,

Housing, and Political Power, volume 6 in Latinos in the United States: History, Law, and Perspective, edited by Antoinette Sedillo Lopez. New York: Garland Publishing, Inc., 1995.

______. Acequia: Water Sharing, Sanctity, and Place. Santa Fe: School for Advanced

Research Press, 2006. Romero, II, Tom I. “Wearing the Red, White, and Blue Trunks of Aztlán: Rodolfo

‘Corky’ Gonzales and the Convergence of American and Chicano Nationalism.” Aztlán: A Journal of Chicano Studies 29 (2004): 83-117.

Rosales, F. Arturo. Testimonio: A Documentary History of the Mexican American

Struggle for Civil Rights. Houston: Arte Público Press, 2000. Rosales, Rudolfo. “Personality and Style in San Antonio Politics: Henry Cisneros and

Bernardo Eureste, 1975-1985.” In Chicano Politics and Society in the Late Twentieth Century, edited by David Montejano. Austin: University of Texas Press, 1999.

Rosenbaum, Robert J. Mexicano Resistance in the Southwest. Dallas: Southern

Methodist University Press, 1981.

301

Ruiz, Vicki. Cannery Women, Cannery Lives: Mexican Women, Unionization and the California Food Processing Industry, 1930-1950. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1987.

Sanchez, George. Becoming Mexican American: Ethnicity, Culture, and Identity in

Chicano Los Angeles, 1900-1945. New York: Oxford University Press, 1993. Schnell, Christopher. “William Gilpin and the Destruction of the Desert Myth.” The

Colorado Magazine Vol. 46, No. 2 (1969): 131-144. Schulzinger, Robert D. A Time for War: The United States and Vietnam, 1941-1975.

Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997. Scott, James C. Domination and the Arts of Resistance: The Hidden Transcripts. New

Haven: Yale University Press, 1990. ______. Weapons of the Weak: Everyday Forms of Peasant Resistance. New Haven:

Yale University Press, 1985. Segura, Denise A. and Beatríz M. Pesquerq. “Chicana Political Consciousness: Re-

negotiating Culture, Class, and Gender with Oppositional Politics.” Aztlan: A Journal of Chicano Studies, Vol. 24, No. 1 (Spring 1999): 7-32.

Sellers, Cleveland, with Robert Terrell. The River of No Return: The Autobiography

of a Black Militant and the Life and Death of SNCC. Jackson, MS: University Press of Mississippi, 1990.

Sheridan, Clare. "'Another White Race:' Mexican Americans and the Paradox of

Whiteness in Jury Selection," Law and History Review (Spring 2003). Sierra, Christine Marie. “In Search of National Power: Chicanos Working the System

on Immigration reform, 1976-1986.” In Chicano Politics and Society in the Late Twentieth Century, edited by David Montejano. Austin: University of Texas Press, 1999.

Sitkoff, Harvard. The Struggle for Black Equality, 1954-1992. New York: Hill and

Wang, (revised edition), 1993. Smith, Reginald Heber, Justice and the Poor: A Study of the Present Denial of Justice

to the Poor and of the Agencies Making more Equal their Position before the Law with Particular Reference to Legal Aid Work in the United States. Bulletin Number Thirteen. Boston: Merrymount Press, 1919.

Stoller, Marianne L. “Grants of Desperation, Lands of Speculation: Mexican Period

Land Grants in Colorado.” In Spanish and Mexican Land Grants in New Mexico

302

and Colorado. Edited by John R. Van Ness and Christine M. Van Ness. Santa Fe: The Center for Land Grant Studies and the Colorado Humanities Program, 1980.

Stoner, K. Lynn. From the House to the Streets: The Cuban Woman’s Movement for

Legal Reform, 1898-1940. Durham: Duke University Press, 1991. Stossel, Scott. Sarge: The Life and Times of Sargent Shriver. Washington:

Smithsonian Books, 2004. Strain. Christopher. Pure Fire: Self-Defense as Activism in the Civil Rights Era.

Athens, GA: University of Georgia Press, 2005. Taylor, Morris F. “Capt. William Craig and the Vigil and St. Vrain Grant, 1855-

1870.” The Colorado Magazine, Vol. XLV, No. 4 (1968): 301-321. Taylor, Morris F. “Fort Massachusetts.” The Colorado Magazine, Vol. XLV, No. 2

(1968): 120-142. Taylor, Quintard. The Forging of a Black Community: Seattle’s Central District from

1870 through the Civil Rights Era. Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1994. Thompson, Paul. The Voice of the Past: Oral History. New York: Oxford University

Press, 1988. Trevino, Roberto R. The Church in the Barrio: Mexican American ethno-Catholicism

in Houston. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2006. Ubbelohde, Carl, and Maxine Benson and Duane A. Smith. A Colorado History.

Boulder: Pruett Publishing Company, 2006. Trillin, Calvin. “U.S. Journal: Costilla County, Colorado: A Little Cloud on the

Title.” The New Yorker (April 26, 1976): 122-126. Valdés, Dionicio. “The Mexican American Dream and World War II.” In Mexican

Americans and World War II, edited by Maggie Rivas-Rodriguez. Austin: University of Texas Press, 2005.

Van Diest, Edmond C. “Early History of Costilla County.” The Colorado Magazine,

vol. 5 (1928): 140-148. Vargas, Zaragosa, Labor Rights Are Civil Rights: Mexican American Workers in

Twentieth-Century America. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2005). Vázquez, Francisco H., and Rodolfo D. Torres, eds. Latino/a Thought: Culture,

Politics, and Society. Boulder: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, Inc., 2003.

303

Veyna, Angelina F. “Women in Early New Mexico: A Preliminary View.” In Chicana Voices: Intersections of Class, Race, and Gender, edited by Ricardo Romo. Austin: University of Texas, 1986.

Vigil, Ernesto B. The Crusade for Justice: Chicano Militancy and the Government’s

War on Dissent. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1999. Vigil, James Diego. From Indians to Chicanos: the Dynamics of Mexican-American

Culture. Prospect Heights, Illinois: Waveland Press, Inc., 1998. Villarreal, Roberto E., and Norma G. Hernandez. “Coalitional Politics as a Strategy

for Latino Empowerment: A Developmental Approach.” In Latinos and Political Coalitions: Political Empowerment for the 1990s, edited by Roberto E. Villarreal and Norma G. Hernandez. New York: Greenwood Press, 1991.

Warren, Louis S. The Hunter’s Game: Poachers and Conservationists in Twentieth-

Century America. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1997. Warren, Nancy Hunter. Villages of Hispanic New Mexico. Santa Fe: School of

American Research Press, 1987. Weber, David J. The Taos Trappers: The Fur Trade in the Southwest, 1540-1846.

Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1971. ______. The Mexican Frontier, 1821-1846. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico

Press, 1982. ______. The Spanish Frontier in North America. New Haven: Yale University Press,

1992. West, Elliott. The Contested Plains: Indians, Goldseekers, and the Rush to Colorado.

Lawrence: University of Kansas Press, 1998. Westphall, Victor. Mercedes Reales: Hispanic Land Grants of the Upper Rio Grande

Region. New Mexico Land Grant Series, edited by John R. Van Ness. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1983.

White, Richard. Roots of Dependency: Subsistence, Environment, and Social Change

among the Choctaws, Pawnees, and Navajos. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1983.

______. The Middle Ground: Indians, Empires, and Republics in the Great Lakes

Region, 1650-1815. New York: Cambridge University Press, 1991. ______. It’s Your Misfortune and None of My Own: A New History of the American

West. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1991.

304

______. Remembering Ahanagran: Storytelling in a Family’s Past. New York: Hill

and Wang, 1998. Wilson, Chris, and David Kammer. La Tierra Amarilla: Its History, Architecture, and

Cultural Landscape. Santa Fe: Museum of New Mexico Press, 1989. Wilson, Stephen H. “Brown over "Other White": Mexican Americans' Legal

Arguments and Litigation Strategy in School Desegregation Lawsuits.” Law and History Review, Vol. 21, No. 1 (Spring 2003): 145-194.

Wyckoff, William. Creating Colorado: The Making of a Western American

Landscape, 1860-1940. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1999.

305

THE TAYLOR RANCH AND THE CULEBRA RIVER BASIN, COSTILLA COUNTY,

COLORADO, MAP PRODUCED BY JOE MARISCO, ARVADA, COLORADO

APPENDIX A

306

CULEBRA RIVER VILLAGES AND LA SIERRA— MAP PRODUCED BY VALDEZ & ASSOCIATES

APPENDIX B