A December snowstorm had diverted me from my usual US 54 from Santa Rosa to Las Cruces, New Mexico. So I opted for I-40 west to Albuquerque and I-25 south through the Rio Grande Valley to Las Cruces. That historic route from Mexico to the northern reaches of the Old Spanish Territory, known as "New Spain," was called El Camino Real, the Royal Highway.
When traveling that route, one cannot help but think of the countless trips taken over the centuries by the indigenous peoples and their Spanish conquerors. North of present-day Fort Seldon, there is a westward bend of the Rio Grande with numerous gorges and canyons that made travel by horse and wagon difficult. To circumvent this stretch, travelers took a 90-mile shortcut across a waterless, barren trail that became known as the Jornada del Muerto, or Journey of Death.
When, in 1598, Spanish conquistador Juan de Onate, and his band first emerged from this stretch, Piro Indians gave them food and water. The Spanish renamed their pueblo on the river "Socorro," which means "help," or "aid."
Near Socorro, just off I-25 is a crossroads town, San Antonio. In 1939, one J.E. Miero is renting cabins and has the only gas pumps and phones in town. His competitor is a Norwegian immigrant, Augustus Halvorson Hilton, who is running a hotel and general store. Gus Hilton's hotel burns to the ground in 1940.
Is there a connection between Gus Hilton and hotels? Yes, Gus Hilton was the father of Conrad Hilton, and eventual great-great grandfather of Paris Hilton of societal fame - or notoriety, depending on one's point of view. Conrad Hilton credits his entrepreneurial skills to his experience working in his father's general store. By the time of the 1940 fire in his father's hotel, young Conrad had already purchased hotels in Texas and had built his first high-rise hotel, the Dallas Hilton.
J.E. Miero, under the assumption he might need it some day in his own business, purchases the original bar rescued from the fire in Gus Hilton's original hotel.
Forward to 1945. A mysterious group of men, claiming to be "prospectors," are renting Miero's cabins, using gas strictly rationed at the time, and are constantly tying up his phones. Draft dodgers? Grown men wasting time and rationed gas looking for rocks in the desert while there is a bloody war going on? And weird stories by ranchers and desert rats of bunkers, blockhouses, and a giant tower built out on the Jornada del Muerto a mere 20 miles to the southeast of town - and Army MPs roaming around?
Miero's son, Frank, had returned from the Navy in 1945. He figured that these mysterious characters and the Army types hanging around could use some beer. So he and his wife open a bar in the grocery store operated by his father. He installed the original wooden bar that his father had rescued from Hilton's burned out hotel.
On the evening of July 15, 1945, a couple of MPs, regulars at the bar no doubt, advised Miero to rise early the next morning and stare at the eastern horizon. Those mysterious "rock hounds" were, in fact, America's most brilliant scientists - J. Robert Oppenheimer, I.I. Rabbi, and others. It was thus that Miero, a few soldiers, and some scientists witnessed the dawn of a new and frightening age with the successful nuclear explosion at the Trinity Site, as the crow flies, 20 miles to the southeast of the Owl Bar.
The success of that first nuclear device, known among the scientists as "the gadget," was not a forgone conclusion. Speculation ranged from it being a complete dud, to destruction of New Mexico, to ignition of the earth's atmosphere and the end of all forms of life. The result was somewhere in between - enough to bring a quick end to WWII, and enough to usher in a frightening and dangerous age. It remains to be seen whether the human race has the collective ingenuity and sense of cooperation and foresight to manage this awesome destructive power.
At the request of the scientists and military personnel remaining in the area, Frank installed a grill behind the bar. It is unclear how the Owl Bar got started with chile cheeseburgers. Maybe it was Frank's idea. Some speculate that one of the scientists had requested it. Although the idea that Oppenheimer or I.I. Rabbi first thought of it is colorful and perks the imagination, I don't see it as plausible. It's more likely that one of the soldiers from the Southwest who was already familiar with that delicacy requested it, and it caught on.
In any case, the Owl Bar became known throughout the region and beyond for their green chile cheeseburgers. During my tenure as NMSU's Agricultural Economics Department Head, I occasionally stopped at the Owl Bar for a green chile cheeseburger, but was unaware of its colorful history.
There are other places in New Mexico that serve green chile cheeseburgers. One of my other favorites was "The Outpost," in Carrizozo where I had often stopped. But it is now, sadly, closed. Yet the Owl Bar is undoubtedly the best known, and is still operated by Frank's daughter, Rowena, and her husband, Adolph Baca. And, you can still lean on the wooden bar from Gus Hilton's original rooming house.
Folks from around here, the upper Midwest, may never have tasted a green chile cheeseburger. A patty of ground beef, topped with cheese and chopped lettuce, then topped with chopped, roasted green chile from New Mexico - there is absolutely nothing like it. Although there are some great cheeseburgers around this neck of the woods, adding that chopped, roasted green chile makes for a unique, unbeatable combination.
Chile and cheese, served with a beer - it would be a natural combination for our cheese country.
- John Waelti's column appears every Friday in the Times. He can be reached at jjwaelti1@tds.net.
When traveling that route, one cannot help but think of the countless trips taken over the centuries by the indigenous peoples and their Spanish conquerors. North of present-day Fort Seldon, there is a westward bend of the Rio Grande with numerous gorges and canyons that made travel by horse and wagon difficult. To circumvent this stretch, travelers took a 90-mile shortcut across a waterless, barren trail that became known as the Jornada del Muerto, or Journey of Death.
When, in 1598, Spanish conquistador Juan de Onate, and his band first emerged from this stretch, Piro Indians gave them food and water. The Spanish renamed their pueblo on the river "Socorro," which means "help," or "aid."
Near Socorro, just off I-25 is a crossroads town, San Antonio. In 1939, one J.E. Miero is renting cabins and has the only gas pumps and phones in town. His competitor is a Norwegian immigrant, Augustus Halvorson Hilton, who is running a hotel and general store. Gus Hilton's hotel burns to the ground in 1940.
Is there a connection between Gus Hilton and hotels? Yes, Gus Hilton was the father of Conrad Hilton, and eventual great-great grandfather of Paris Hilton of societal fame - or notoriety, depending on one's point of view. Conrad Hilton credits his entrepreneurial skills to his experience working in his father's general store. By the time of the 1940 fire in his father's hotel, young Conrad had already purchased hotels in Texas and had built his first high-rise hotel, the Dallas Hilton.
J.E. Miero, under the assumption he might need it some day in his own business, purchases the original bar rescued from the fire in Gus Hilton's original hotel.
Forward to 1945. A mysterious group of men, claiming to be "prospectors," are renting Miero's cabins, using gas strictly rationed at the time, and are constantly tying up his phones. Draft dodgers? Grown men wasting time and rationed gas looking for rocks in the desert while there is a bloody war going on? And weird stories by ranchers and desert rats of bunkers, blockhouses, and a giant tower built out on the Jornada del Muerto a mere 20 miles to the southeast of town - and Army MPs roaming around?
Miero's son, Frank, had returned from the Navy in 1945. He figured that these mysterious characters and the Army types hanging around could use some beer. So he and his wife open a bar in the grocery store operated by his father. He installed the original wooden bar that his father had rescued from Hilton's burned out hotel.
On the evening of July 15, 1945, a couple of MPs, regulars at the bar no doubt, advised Miero to rise early the next morning and stare at the eastern horizon. Those mysterious "rock hounds" were, in fact, America's most brilliant scientists - J. Robert Oppenheimer, I.I. Rabbi, and others. It was thus that Miero, a few soldiers, and some scientists witnessed the dawn of a new and frightening age with the successful nuclear explosion at the Trinity Site, as the crow flies, 20 miles to the southeast of the Owl Bar.
The success of that first nuclear device, known among the scientists as "the gadget," was not a forgone conclusion. Speculation ranged from it being a complete dud, to destruction of New Mexico, to ignition of the earth's atmosphere and the end of all forms of life. The result was somewhere in between - enough to bring a quick end to WWII, and enough to usher in a frightening and dangerous age. It remains to be seen whether the human race has the collective ingenuity and sense of cooperation and foresight to manage this awesome destructive power.
At the request of the scientists and military personnel remaining in the area, Frank installed a grill behind the bar. It is unclear how the Owl Bar got started with chile cheeseburgers. Maybe it was Frank's idea. Some speculate that one of the scientists had requested it. Although the idea that Oppenheimer or I.I. Rabbi first thought of it is colorful and perks the imagination, I don't see it as plausible. It's more likely that one of the soldiers from the Southwest who was already familiar with that delicacy requested it, and it caught on.
In any case, the Owl Bar became known throughout the region and beyond for their green chile cheeseburgers. During my tenure as NMSU's Agricultural Economics Department Head, I occasionally stopped at the Owl Bar for a green chile cheeseburger, but was unaware of its colorful history.
There are other places in New Mexico that serve green chile cheeseburgers. One of my other favorites was "The Outpost," in Carrizozo where I had often stopped. But it is now, sadly, closed. Yet the Owl Bar is undoubtedly the best known, and is still operated by Frank's daughter, Rowena, and her husband, Adolph Baca. And, you can still lean on the wooden bar from Gus Hilton's original rooming house.
Folks from around here, the upper Midwest, may never have tasted a green chile cheeseburger. A patty of ground beef, topped with cheese and chopped lettuce, then topped with chopped, roasted green chile from New Mexico - there is absolutely nothing like it. Although there are some great cheeseburgers around this neck of the woods, adding that chopped, roasted green chile makes for a unique, unbeatable combination.
Chile and cheese, served with a beer - it would be a natural combination for our cheese country.
- John Waelti's column appears every Friday in the Times. He can be reached at jjwaelti1@tds.net.
