Socorro and San Antonio, New Mexico - at the north end of Jornada del Muerto, the Journey of Death on El Camino Real, the Royal Highway. It was the old trail from Mexico, along the Rio Grande to the northern reaches of New Spain.
When Juan de Onate emerged from the barren, waterless Jornada del Muerto on his journey north, the Piro Indians gave him and his band food and water. The Spanish named the pueblo of these Indians "Socorro," which means "help" or "aid."
Onate proceeded north and founded Santa Fe in 1610, a full decade before the Pilgrims landed at Plymouth Rock.
For a long period, there were no Spanish settlements between Paso del Norte (now El Paso, Texas) and a point about 30 miles north of Socorro. The Spanish settled Socorro about 1815. In 1846, the old New Mexico Territory was claimed as part of the U.S. In 1912, New Mexico became the 47th state.
Fast forward to 1939 - San Antonio is a wide spot in the road near Socorro. The hotel operated by Gus Halvorson Hilton burns to the ground. One J.E. Miero, operating a rooming house and grocery store, obtains the original wooden bar from Gus Hilton's burned-out hotel, and continues to run his cabins and general store.
In 1945, a bunch of mysterious strangers rent Miero's cabins, use the rationed gas and tie up his phones. Army MPs start hanging around. Miero's son returns from the Navy and starts serving beer to the mysterious strangers and the thirsty army guys hanging around - over the original wooden bar rescued from Gus Hilton's burned out hotel. He names this establishment the "Owl Bar."
These mysterious strangers turn out to be America's most brilliant scientists - nuclear physicists who designed the atomic bomb and set off the first nuclear blast in July 1945 at the Trinity Site, some 20 miles as the crow flies from the Owl Bar.
At the suggestion of his customers, Frank starts serving food. Thus was initiated the Owl Bar's famous green chile cheeseburgers that attract visitors from far and wide - with the added attraction of being able to lean on Gus Hilton's original wooden bar - Gus, father of hotel magnate Conrad Hilton.
During my tenure at New Mexico State University I had occasionally stopped at the Owl Bar but was unaware of its colorful history. So on my recent trip, I had to stop there. That green chile cheeseburger was sumptuous, as always. But I needed to get going, so another time it will be a more leisurely pace to bask in that history and lean on Hilton's original wooden bar.
As I head south on I-25 there is still some packed snow from that storm of several days ago. As I arrive in Old Mesilla, it's cold and dark, and I don't want to monkey around getting the heat going in my guesthouse, so I grab a motel.
The next several days, it's colder than normal and, unusual for that area, vestiges of snow still remain. I take care of some personal business and visit several friends and former colleagues. I stroll over to NMSU's College of Agriculture and it's quiet - final exam week.
As I leave town, they are just starting to put up Christmas decorations on the Plaza in Old Mesilla. There are few places as colorful as the Plaza in Old Mesilla during Christmas season, with all its lights and luminarias.
The snow of the previous week had dissipated, so I take US 54 and make my usual stop in Carrizozo. The Outpost Bar, another place with great green chile cheeseburgers, is still closed and, regrettably, no prospects of re-opening. So I make my other usual stop at Roy's Old Fashioned Ice Cream Parlor, visit with Roy for a while, and have one of his genuine chocolate malts.
I hit the road again and call to reserve a room at Kathryn and Michael's Route 66 Motel in Tucumcari.
Next morning I have huevos rancheros at the Pow Wow Inn and head out on US 54 to Nara Visa, and north on NM 402 to Clayton, retracing my route of a week ago. On my way down, it was that cold, snowy windy night where I almost hit a couple of Black Angus steers that had wandered onto the highway.
Now it was daylight and I noted that the range was fenced. So how did those steers get out? I conclude that the cattle guards had been packed with snow, making them ineffective. So, like errant school children, duplicitous politicians, college athletic recruiters, and larcenous barons of Wall Street, those steers broke the rules just because they could.
It's still a drab, gray Sunday morning as I arrive in Clayton, economic center of northeastern New Mexico's range country. But the historic Eklund Hotel that had been closed for a couple of years is cheerfully lit up.
I was surprised to see a chef cooking up omelets and carving roast beef. Since I had recently had breakfast, I just ordered green chile stew and coffee. The dining room was cheerful with its Christmas tree, and crowded with many patrons wearing hats and boots, obviously not your average drug store cowboys.
I introduced myself to Jeanette, the new owner of the Eklund, and told her how much I appreciated the hotel being open again. With that, her assistant, Jerry Phillips, gave me a tour of the Eklund, including pointing out bullet holes in the bar room ceiling, and narrating a thumbnail sketch of one of Clayton's outlaws Blackjack Ketchum.
This will surely warrant a more leisurely tour this summer, and grist for a future column or two.
But for now, it's farewell to New Mexico and some mighty colorful history.
- John Waelti of Monroe can be reached at jjwaelti1@tds.net. His column appears each Friday in The Monroe Times.
When Juan de Onate emerged from the barren, waterless Jornada del Muerto on his journey north, the Piro Indians gave him and his band food and water. The Spanish named the pueblo of these Indians "Socorro," which means "help" or "aid."
Onate proceeded north and founded Santa Fe in 1610, a full decade before the Pilgrims landed at Plymouth Rock.
For a long period, there were no Spanish settlements between Paso del Norte (now El Paso, Texas) and a point about 30 miles north of Socorro. The Spanish settled Socorro about 1815. In 1846, the old New Mexico Territory was claimed as part of the U.S. In 1912, New Mexico became the 47th state.
Fast forward to 1939 - San Antonio is a wide spot in the road near Socorro. The hotel operated by Gus Halvorson Hilton burns to the ground. One J.E. Miero, operating a rooming house and grocery store, obtains the original wooden bar from Gus Hilton's burned-out hotel, and continues to run his cabins and general store.
In 1945, a bunch of mysterious strangers rent Miero's cabins, use the rationed gas and tie up his phones. Army MPs start hanging around. Miero's son returns from the Navy and starts serving beer to the mysterious strangers and the thirsty army guys hanging around - over the original wooden bar rescued from Gus Hilton's burned out hotel. He names this establishment the "Owl Bar."
These mysterious strangers turn out to be America's most brilliant scientists - nuclear physicists who designed the atomic bomb and set off the first nuclear blast in July 1945 at the Trinity Site, some 20 miles as the crow flies from the Owl Bar.
At the suggestion of his customers, Frank starts serving food. Thus was initiated the Owl Bar's famous green chile cheeseburgers that attract visitors from far and wide - with the added attraction of being able to lean on Gus Hilton's original wooden bar - Gus, father of hotel magnate Conrad Hilton.
During my tenure at New Mexico State University I had occasionally stopped at the Owl Bar but was unaware of its colorful history. So on my recent trip, I had to stop there. That green chile cheeseburger was sumptuous, as always. But I needed to get going, so another time it will be a more leisurely pace to bask in that history and lean on Hilton's original wooden bar.
As I head south on I-25 there is still some packed snow from that storm of several days ago. As I arrive in Old Mesilla, it's cold and dark, and I don't want to monkey around getting the heat going in my guesthouse, so I grab a motel.
The next several days, it's colder than normal and, unusual for that area, vestiges of snow still remain. I take care of some personal business and visit several friends and former colleagues. I stroll over to NMSU's College of Agriculture and it's quiet - final exam week.
As I leave town, they are just starting to put up Christmas decorations on the Plaza in Old Mesilla. There are few places as colorful as the Plaza in Old Mesilla during Christmas season, with all its lights and luminarias.
The snow of the previous week had dissipated, so I take US 54 and make my usual stop in Carrizozo. The Outpost Bar, another place with great green chile cheeseburgers, is still closed and, regrettably, no prospects of re-opening. So I make my other usual stop at Roy's Old Fashioned Ice Cream Parlor, visit with Roy for a while, and have one of his genuine chocolate malts.
I hit the road again and call to reserve a room at Kathryn and Michael's Route 66 Motel in Tucumcari.
Next morning I have huevos rancheros at the Pow Wow Inn and head out on US 54 to Nara Visa, and north on NM 402 to Clayton, retracing my route of a week ago. On my way down, it was that cold, snowy windy night where I almost hit a couple of Black Angus steers that had wandered onto the highway.
Now it was daylight and I noted that the range was fenced. So how did those steers get out? I conclude that the cattle guards had been packed with snow, making them ineffective. So, like errant school children, duplicitous politicians, college athletic recruiters, and larcenous barons of Wall Street, those steers broke the rules just because they could.
It's still a drab, gray Sunday morning as I arrive in Clayton, economic center of northeastern New Mexico's range country. But the historic Eklund Hotel that had been closed for a couple of years is cheerfully lit up.
I was surprised to see a chef cooking up omelets and carving roast beef. Since I had recently had breakfast, I just ordered green chile stew and coffee. The dining room was cheerful with its Christmas tree, and crowded with many patrons wearing hats and boots, obviously not your average drug store cowboys.
I introduced myself to Jeanette, the new owner of the Eklund, and told her how much I appreciated the hotel being open again. With that, her assistant, Jerry Phillips, gave me a tour of the Eklund, including pointing out bullet holes in the bar room ceiling, and narrating a thumbnail sketch of one of Clayton's outlaws Blackjack Ketchum.
This will surely warrant a more leisurely tour this summer, and grist for a future column or two.
But for now, it's farewell to New Mexico and some mighty colorful history.
- John Waelti of Monroe can be reached at jjwaelti1@tds.net. His column appears each Friday in The Monroe Times.
