"Santa Rita del Cobre" is the story of the formative years (1801-1838) of a remarkable mine in southwestern New Mexico that has produced copper for more than 200 years. Records of the Spanish Colonial and early Mexican period have yielded intriguing accounts of the people involved in the early development of the mines, the difficulties they encountered along the way, and the importance of this small settlement to the history of the frontier. Although the Santa Rita mines produced a fortune to the few men willing or able to invest money in their development, it was always a difficult and hazardous undertaking. Apaches, who inhabited much of southern New Mexico and Arizona at that time, created many problems for the miners. They had a strong influence over the success or failure of the Santa Rita mining operation. At times the hostility and depredations of these Indians overshadowed the remarkable success of the mines. Santa Rita was the center for military operations against the Apaches, and was referred to as the watchtower and guardian of the western frontier.

An account of the rise and fall of a mining town over two centuries, including photos: “An excellent story of the people and their community.” ―New Mexico Historical Review The Spanish, Mexicans, and Americans, successively, mined copper for more than two hundred years in Santa Rita, New Mexico. Starting in 1799 after an Apache man led the Spanish to the native copper deposits, miners at the site followed industry developments in the nineteenth century to create a network of underground mines. In the early twentieth century these works became part of the Chino Copper Company’s open-pit mining operations—operations that would overtake Santa Rita by 1970. In Santa Rita del Cobre, Christopher Huggard and Terrence Humble detail these developments with in-depth explanations of mining technology, and describe the effects on and consequences for the workers, the community, and the natural environment. Originally known as El Cobre, the mining-military camp of Santa Rita del Cobre ultimately became the company town of Santa Rita, which after World War II evolved into an independent community. From the town’s beginnings to its demise, its mixed-heritage inhabitants from Mexico and the United States cultivated rich family, educational, religious, social, and labor traditions. Extensive archival photographs, many taken by officials of the Kennecott Copper Corporation, accompany the text, providing an important visual and historical record of a town swallowed up by the industry that created it.

Silver City is located at the southern boundary of the vast Gila Wilderness in a region of soaring mountains, lush river valleys, and bountiful mineral deposits. Ancient ruins give evidence of prehistoric occupation, followed by a historic parade of Native Americans, Spaniards, Mexicans, miners, outlaws, and settlers, resulting in a community celebrating a rich cultural blend. When silver was discovered in 1870 at La Cienega de San Vicente, prospectors rushed in despite the danger from Apache Indians who traditionally occupied that land. Newcomers flooded into southwestern New Mexico Territory, and Silver City became the county seat the following year. Soon there were businesses, saloons, and homes. Silver City became the supply center for the widespread mining district with a brick plant and lumberyard. By 1883, a narrow-gauge railroad connected the town with the outside world.

Reflections on A New Mexican Crypto-Jewish Song Book offers close examinations of a manuscript written over a 20-year period by Loggie Carrasco, a well-known crypto-Jew from Albuquerque, New Mexico. The manuscript includes a wide range of genres: folklore, memory, ritual practices, genealogy, and most significantly poetry and songs. Although the manuscript remains unpublished, this book utilizes quotations and excepts to enable the reader to have a good understanding of Carrasco’s voice. Focusing on the main genres and themes that shape Carrasco’s manuscripts, the contributors argue that the work is both unique and illustrative of the vitality of crypto-Jewish culture and contemporary understandings of it.

For twenty years after World War II, the United States was in the grips of its second and most oppressive red scare. The hysteria was driven by conflating American Communists with the real Soviet threat. The anticommunist movement was named after Senator Joseph R. McCarthy, but its true dominant personality was FBI director J. Edgar Hoover, who promoted and implemented its repressive policies and laws. The national fear over communism generated such anxiety that Communist Party members and many left-wing Americans lost the laws’ protections. Thousands lost their jobs, careers, and reputations in the hysteria, though they had committed no crime and were not disloyal to the United States. Among those individuals who experienced more of anticommunism’s varied repressive measures than anyone else was Clinton Jencks. Jencks, a decorated war hero, adopted as his own the Mexican American fight for equal rights in New Mexico’s mining industry. In 1950 he led a local of the International Union of Mine, Mill, and Smelter Workers in the famed Empire Zinc strike—memorialized in the blacklisted 1954 film Salt of the Earth—in which wives and mothers replaced strikers on the picket line after an injunction barred the miners themselves. But three years after the strike, Jencks was arrested and charged with falsely denying that he was a Communist and was sentenced to five years in prison. In Jencks v. United States (1957), the Supreme Court overturned his conviction in a landmark decision that mandated providing to an accused person previously hidden witness statements, thereby making cross-examination truly effective. In McCarthyism vs. Clinton Jencks, Caballero reveals for the first time that the FBI and the prosecution knew all along that Clinton Jencks was innocent. Jencks’s case typified the era, exposing the injustice that many suffered at the hands of McCarthyism. The tale of Jencks’s quest for justice provides a fresh glimpse into the McCarthy era’s oppression, which irrevocably damaged the lives, careers, and reputations of thousands of Americans.

One of the first Anglo-Americans to record their travels to New Mexico, Dr. Rowland Willard (1794–1884) journeyed west on the Santa Fe Trail in 1825 and then down the Camino Real into Mexico, taking notes along the way. This edition of the young physician’s travel diaries and subsequent autobiography, annotated by New Mexico Deputy State Librarian Joy L. Poole, is a rich historical source on the two trails and the practice of medicine in the 1820s. Few Americans knew much about New Mexico when Willard set out on his journey from St. Charles, Missouri, where he had recently completed a medical apprenticeship. The growing commerce with the Southwest presented opportunities for the ambitious doctor. On his first day travelling the plains of the Santa Fe Trail, he met the mountain man Hugh Glass, who regaled Willard with stories of his wilderness experiences. Conducting a physical examination of Glass, Dr. Willard provided the only eye witness medical account of Glass’s deformities resulting from a grizzly bear attack. Willard referred to the mountain man as Father Glass, a testimony to his age. He visited Santa Fe, practiced medicine in Taos, then traveled south to Chihuahua, arriving during a measles epidemic. Willard treated patients in Mexico for two years before returning to Missouri in 1828. Willard’s narrative challenges long-accepted assumptions about the exact routes taken by pack trains on the Santa Fe Trail. It also provides thrilling glimpses of a landscape densely populated with wildlife. The doctor describes “a great theater of nature,” with droves of elk and buffalo, and “wolf and antelope skipping in every direction.” With his traveling companions he hunted buffalo by crawling after them on all fours, afterward making jerky out of bison meat and boats out of their hides. Willard also details his medical practice, offering a revealing view of physicians’ operating practices in a time when sanitation and anesthesia were rare. The Santa Fe Trail and Camino Real took Willard on the journey of a lifetime. This account recalls the early days of the Santa Fe Trail trade and westward American migration, when a doctor from Missouri could cross paths with mountain men, traders, Mexican clergymen, and government officials on their way to new opportunities.

As a definitive study of the poorly understood Apaches de paz, this book explains how war-weary, mutually suspicious Apaches and Spaniards negotiated an ambivalent compromise after 1786 that produced over four decades of uneasy peace across the region. In response to drought and military pressure, thousands of Apaches settled near Spanish presidios in a system of reservation-like establecimientos, or settlements, stretching from Laredo to Tucson. Far more significant than previously assumed, the establecimientos constituted the earliest and most extensive set of military-run reservations in the Americas and served as an important precedent for Indian reservations in the United States. As a case study of indigenous adaptation to imperial power on colonial frontiers and borderlands, this book reveals the importance of Apache-Hispanic diplomacy in reducing cross-cultural violence and the limits of indigenous acculturation and assimilation into empires and states.