Mining in the Jarilla Mountains - Photographs

 

 

Goat Herding in Otero County

by Clif McDonald

Sam Gilliland knocked on our door just at daylight.  My brothers and I had been waiting in euphoric anticipation for this moment for several days.  I was twelve years old and didn't know Sam, but I had seen him roping at rodeos.  He was six-foot plus, red-headed, strong, and tall and straight in the saddle.

One reason the Gillilands were heroes to me and my brothers was the gun battle at Wildy Well.  Sam's brother, Jim Gilliland and Oliver Lee had been attacked by Pat Garrett and his posse while they were asleep.  We believed the sheriff had taken an unfair advantage.  Of course this happened before we were born, but we had heard the story, and our loyalties lay with Gilliland and Lee, who fought back and defeated Garrett and his posse, killing one of Pat's men.

Dad had told us a few days before that Sam was coming to possibly buy a herd of goats from us.  Not only were we happy about meeting Sam, but we were also hoping to get some money from the sale of the goats to buy some new school clothes.

There was a fire in the kitchen stove and the coffee pot was percolating.  Dad got up, opened the door and said, "Come on in, Sam."  Sam said, "I brought my wife." and Dad said, "Bring her in.  Breakfast is about ready."  They came in, introductions were made all around, and everyone sat down at the big kitchen table, waiting for Mother to finish cooking breakfast.  Sam and his wife had been married just over two weeks - and she was a beautiful lady!

Soon, breakfast was over and we went out to the corral.  Sam walked around through the herd, looking the goats over.  He would occasionally catch one and check its teeth for age.  Dad wanted two dollars per head and Sam wanted them for a dollar seventy-five.  Finally, Sam said, "We are going to have to drive them cross country on foot 'cause so much of this country is fenced up now."

We knew what he meant.  the goats could go through fences but saddle horses could not.  Sam took off his hat, scratched his head and said, "Tell you what I'll do.  I'll give you two dollars a head for all the goats we get to my ranch.  If we lose any of them along the way, I can't pay you for them."  Dad said, "Fair enough.  I'll send this boy here with you.  He's a good herder; he'll get 'em all there.  His name is Clif."  I was elated to be the one chosen out of eight boys!

We filled our canteens, got our slickers and a pocket full of jerky and headed out to Sam's ranch which was south of Carrizozo.  Sam's wife met us in the truck with food and bedrolls where we made camp that night.  Next morning we had finished breakfast when it started coming daylight.  Sam and me and his dog had all become good friends by then.  His dog was a well trained, good herder.  When we got the herd strung out and grazing, we would sit down to rest and drink out of our canteens.  Then Sam would pour some water in his hat and hold it for his dog to drink out of.

We left Tulie Creek the next morning, headed north through the saddle just west of Cat Mountain.  We were to meet Sam's wife that night in Coyote Canyon near the Indian reservation.  About noon it started raining and we put on our slickers.  It was almost dark when we reached our next campsite.  We found a good tank of water but the corral had deteriorated to the point that it wouldn't hold our goats, so we had to take turns watching them so they wouldn't run off and get lost.

Sam's wife didn't show up with our food and bedrolls so we figured the  roads had been washed out because a lot of the road was in the arroyo bed.  You don't know how hungry a twelve-year-old boy can get.  I had run out of jerky about noon the day before.  Sam asked me if I thought I could eat some goat meat if we butchered one, and I said, "If we could find some dry wood to cook it with, I can."
About that time the moon started coming up and got very bright.  Sam said, "You know with this cool night air and moonlight, we can maybe see good enough to move this herd.  We sure could make lots of miles before it get hot tomorrow and it's only about twenty-five miles to Three Rivers.  We can get something to eat there."  So we moved them out.  We could see well enough on the ridges, but when we had to cross a canyon, some of the goats would stop under the trees and I couldn't see them.  So, I would take the dog and bark them out in the open.  This worked well, but I also woke several rattle snakes which was kinda scary in the dark; and, I was afraid maybe I wasn't getting all the goats out of the brush.

Next morning when it came good daylight, I looked over the herd but I couldn't tell if I had lost any goats.  We were on the lower slopes of Sierra Blanca Mountain.  Looking to the west across the Tularosa Basin, we could not see Three Rivers, a ranch house, nor any sign of life.  We were so hungry and tired, and the goats were so tired that they couldn't make much mileage.  I suggested we rest, but Sam said, "If we stop, we're going to stiffen up and it will be worse. Besides, our canteens are dry."

About that time we spotted a windmill and we could see the blades turning in the morning sun.  We figured there might be a ranch house there, too, and we could get food and water.  However, it appeared to be several miles away.  This kind of gave us a second wind, and Sam asked, "Can you make it, Kid?"  I said sure!  If these goats don't sull on us, and, if it don't get too hot, we can be there in about four or five hours."
About an hour later I could see a long dust plume going north down in the basin beyond the windmill and we knew it was a car on Highway 54 between Tularosa and Three Rivers; Highway 54 was not paved then.  Soon after that, we saw a train.  This gave me assurance we could eventually come back into civilization.  I had never been in this part of the country, but I knew there were people and food down there somewhere.

As the day got hotter, the herd got tireder and slower; I didn't have any trouble with any of them trying to break out of the herd.  I was so tired, I couldn't have done anything about it.  Sam and I were both punching up the drags this time.  After an hour of silence, Sam finally said, "The windmill is just over this next mountain.  Can you make it, Kid?"  I said, "Sure I can!"  But in my own mind, I was not at all sure I could climb that next mountain.  When we did finally make it to the top there was good news - there was a big trough of water, but no ranch house.  When we got to the water, the goats were climbing on top of each other trying to get a drink and we joined in the competition.

As soon as all the goats got water, they bedded down to rest.  It was about three in the afternoon, and I tried to figure out how many meals I had missed in a row, but the days and nights ran together.  I lay down in the shade of a mesquite bush and I immediately went to sleep.  I sprang to my feet an hour later, aware of my responsibility to keep the herd together, but they were all still bedded down.  Sam said, "They ain't going nowhere."  We had become good friends by then, and I felt proud to be pardnering with a man like Sam.

Sam said, "Well, we got several options.  We can cook a goat and spend the night here, or one of us can walk on into Three Rivers and bring food back, or we can just wait awhile.  My wife may find us before long if she ain't stuck somewhere.  What do you think we should do?"  My hunger was overcome by the joy that Sam was including me in the decision making.  I felt like I had gained his confidence.

We didn't have to make the decision because we heard a truck engine coming up the arroyo bed.  He cupped his hands behind his ears intently for a moment and said, "Yeah, that's my truck."  We were waving our hats as Sam's wife came up over the rise.  She pulled up and said, "The roads were washed out yesterday.  I been lookin' for you all day."  After we had eaten everything on the truck, Sam said, "Let's spend the night here.  Let's get the herd up and graze 'em awhile, so they won't be restless tonight."

The next night we spent near Three Rivers.  We herded the goats back into a box arroyo and I unrolled my bed in the mouth of the divide so I would wake up if they started to leave.  Sure enough, I woke with them walking out over me.  I looked to the east and it was beginning to be light, so I knew I could have enough light to gather them in about thirty minutes.  The following night we bedded them down in a big, dry dirt tank and took turns watching.  We could skylight them as they went over the tank dump.  The next evening we reached our destination at Sam's ranch, which was south of Carrizozo, right next to the lava flow.  I sure slept good knowing the goats were all corralled.

When we counted them out in the morning, and we had only lost five head, I was very relieved because I knew it could have been much worse.  After the count, Sam said, "Would you do me a big favor?"  I said, "Sure, anything!"  And he said, "I've got to go to Roswell and hire another herder to help this one I've got.  I'd like you to help my herder till I get back and I'll get you home in a couple of weeks before school starts."   So I said, "OK. I'll write and tell my folks if you'll mail the letter tomorrow in Carrizozo."  (There were no phones or electricity in the ranch country at that time).  So I wrote:
              Dear Mom and Dad,
              We finished the drive.  Be home in two weeks.  I'm working for Sam awhile.  We
              only lost five head.
              Clif

I got a whole new experience herding on the lava rocks.  There was lots of good brush for browsing.  But again, we couldn't ride horseback because it was too rocky.  So when I finally got home, I had completely worn out my shoes.
Sam came back and brought me a new pocket knife for a present.  It was a Barlow with good metal, the first expensive knife I had ever owned.

When we got home and Sam paid my dad for the goats, he shook my hand and said, "Enjoyed working with you, Kid, and I'll see you again."  He still called me Kid when I was fifty years old.  He would come to my barber shop and say, "Hi, Kid, how about let's cook a goat?"  Sam is long since gone, but I think about him often and I miss him.  I'm eighty-five years old now, and I'll probably be seeing him again before too long.  He will probably ride over from the side of the arena and say, "Hi, Kid, how about let's cook a goat."

A Brief History of the Orogrande Mines

by Clif McDonald

Some of the mines at Orogrande were originally worked by Native Americans who mined mostly turquoise.  Oro Grande is Spanish for Big Gold.  Gold was first discovered in Orogrande is 1865.  There were many pure nuggets at first, but ore had to be hauled by wagon to the El Paso smelter.  In 1898 the railroad came to Orogrande and a seven mile spur line was built up through the Jarilla Mountains where the mine fields lay.  However, the real gold rush didn't start until June of 1904 when a six and a half ounce nugget was found in a dry wash on the Little Joe Claim.  In December 1904, Southwest Smelting & Refining started construction of a smelter in Orogrande; its foundation can still be seen on the east side of Highway 54, just north of Orogrande.

Southwest Smelting built a 55 mile pipeline from Sacramento Lake to bring water down from the mountains.  This line furnished the first good, sweet water to the middle of the desert.  It was used by train steam boilers, by the town's people and it also made mining possible.  Prior to this, miners paid $3 a barrel for water.  

In 1905, Orogrande and two other towns in the mountains, Brice and Jarilla, became boom towns.  People lived in tents, shacks, in their mines, and some in permanent houses they built.  Orogrande had nine saloons, a real estate office with sixteen employees, a barber shop, a hotel, a tent hospital, and many other prosperous businesses in this town of over 6,000 people.  Rich ore poured out of the mines by the train load.  Eastern investors were brought in by train to see the goldfields; these financiers furnished capital to sink expensive shafts and buy equipment.

The Iron Queen Mine furnished much of the ore to build cannons for World War I.  Mines produced gold, silver, tungsten, copper, iron, turquoise, garnet and lead.

In the 1930's, the rich ore began to run out.  Most of the large mines started closing.  The railroad tracks in the mountains were removed.  Only a few miners hung on.  The town of Jarilla completely vanished.  The only thing left of Brice is a wooden cross and a few rock headstones where the graveyard for the town was located.

When trains converted from steam to diesel, they no longer needed to stop for water in Orogrande, but the community still uses the water coming the mountain pipeline to this day.

A few claims are presently being worked.  The U.S. Government requires working the claim or it will revert back.  Core drilling continues, but the sounds of jack hammers, dynamite blasting, train whistles, dance hall girls and gun fighters are silenced.  Hard rock miners, the smell of sourdough bread cooking, and great wealth have passed on into history.

The Legend of Tularosa Jack

a tall tale by Clif McDonald

Tularosa Jack became a legend because of his vast wealth procured from mining the mountains of New Mexico. He paid for everything with gold nuggets and even gave tiny chunks of bullion to dance hall girls for tips. He was a happy-go-lucky, boisterous, big old, fun natured man that everybody loved.

I know you've heard a variety of stories about Jack, and the reason they are all questionable is because I'm the only one who knows the real story.  I know know the true long and short of it because I was his friend and business partner.  Jack and I prospected together in the early days.  We had a mine at White Oaks, one at Hillsboro, and one at Orogrande.

At the particular time of this story, I was digging at White Oaks and Jack was digging Hillsboro when I received a letter from him asking me to bring our 20 mule team cause he had a load ready to go to the smelter. I hitched up the mules to the wagon and hitched the pup wagon behind the freight wagon.  When I got to Hot Springs, (now know as Truth or Consequences) I knew where to find Jack.  I went to find Lula Bell at the Bloody Bucket Saloon and sure enough there was Jack - drinking tequila and teasing the girls. Jack gave me a bear hug and a back slap that almost caused whiplash, then poured me a glass of tequila cause that's the only thing that will take the alkali dust out of your throat after driving a team all day.

After we mellowed out and had a steak, old Doc Moss came busting through the door hollering, "I found the King's Gold!"  

Well everybody knew what that meant.  Way back when Spain ruled this country, a regiment of Spanish soldiers were escorting several carretas of gold and jewelry from the north country down to Mexico City, then to the Gulf to load it aboard ship to take it to Spain. The soldiers stopped at the ranch of Doña Ana María de Córdoba (present day Village of Doña Ana). 

 The señora warned the soldiers that the Apaches were on the war path and would not allow them passage at this time but they could hide the gold in a nearby peak within a cave she knew about. The soldiers could stay the winter on her ranch, enjoy the pleasures of the village of Mesilla, and return on their voyage to the Gulf during the milder Spring months.

During the meantime, New Spain became Mexico following the Revolution, the soldiers became husbands, fathers, and eventually farmers, and loyalty to King and the old country faded away.  Location of the gold circulated among descendants of the soldiers but the exact location had only been known only to Doña Ana María de Córdoba and her family.

Years later, during the Mexican-American war, Doña Ana's descendants decided the time had come to recover the gold to help Mexico fight against the Americans.  The Texicans, formerly white Southerners who had been moving into Mexico for years, were now fighting for the United States and were trying to steal half of Mexico's territory!  Doña Ana's descendants knew where to get gold to fund the resistance and they met with the local military commanders to tell them about the stash.

A regiment from the Mexican Army hiked to a peak in the San Andres Mountains.  It was just about sundown when they made camp for the night.  Just at that moment, Chief Victorio and his Apache warriors rode up to the horizon from the other side of the mountain and started sending up smoke signals and continued to do so until dark.

Well, the Mexican captain, Miguel Verdugo,  knew he could defeat Victorio and his warriors, but he was worried about the smoke signals.  During the night, the Captain's men placed a large dynamite charge in the opening of the cave so that if things got real bad, they could blast the mine, close the opening, and save the King's Gold to retrieve later.

Everyone bedded down for the night and just at daylight, the Mexicans could still see Chief Victorio and Loco and his men on the southern ridge.  Just at that minute, Geronimo and his warriors rode up from the East, and on the western horizon Cochise and his warriors appeared.  As Captain Verdugo was about to give the retreat order, Chief Mangus Colorado and his people covered the north ridge; they had all seen the smoke signals.   The Captain realized they had no chance for victory, but he also knew he could not surrender or he would be branded a coward and a traitor, so he told his men to prepare to fight for their lives, and God and country.

Captain Verdugo summoned his priest and told him to give the men last rites and put a curse on the gold; the curse was  that if anyone ever spent any of the gold on themselves or told anyone else where it was, they would die. After the last rites, the Captain ordered the men to begin firing the cannons and they set off the dynamite to close the mine.

The battle raged all day.  The sun was almost down when the last Mexican in the camp died.  The four Apache tribes rode in, looted the camp and took all the horses, mules, and weapons and never suspected there was gold involved. One young boy, an alter boy for the priest, had hidden under a mesquite bush and lived to tell the tale.

When Doc Moss came into the Bloody Bucket Saloon that night with a sack of gold bars and dropped them down on our table, they made a sound like a bag of door knobs. I opened the sack and saw more gold than I have ever seen in my life.  Jack said, "Doc, you know about the curse on that gold."  Doc snarled and said that was many years ago and the curse was worked out by now.  I wanted nothing to do with that Spanish gold so I moved over to the bar and left them at the table.  

Doc cashed in one of the bars, paid for drinks all around, and he and Jack got drunker and louder as the night wore on.  Doc finally laid his head on the table and passed out; Jack came over to me and said, "Let's go over to the wagon yard."  We walked out into the brightest moonlight you ever saw and Jack said, "He told me where the King's Gold is hidden." Doc violated both covenants of the curse - telling where the gold was and actually spending it on himself; I wondered if Doc was going to die.

As Jack and I reached the livery stable, I started to unroll my bed and Jack said, "Let's hitch up the team and go get the gold."  "Are you crazy?!, I demanded.  "I wouldn't touch that stash with a ten foot pole."

Jack pleaded, "Hey, look, if the curse is still good, Doc is going to die anyway, and if he doesn't, we'll make him a partner.  He's blabbing about it all over tarnation and somebody might get it who won't cut him in."

Well, we hitched that 20 mule team on those wagons and headed for Victorio Peak.  We made good time in the cool night air. When we got to the site, we saw a circle of fresh dirt with several rocks stacked in the middle.  We kicked at the fresh dirt and heard a hollow sound underneath.  We took shovels and dug down to boards that were covering a pit.  Jack threw the boards off to the side and the bright, full moon shone down on more gold than Fort Knox. 

Early next morning, we loaded up our treasure and lit out for Orogrande.  It took us a couple of days to reach Tom Bell's place. He set a bottle of tequila on the bar and asked, "Ya'll hear about Doc?"  He told how someone gunned Doc down and robbed him over by the Rio Grande River.  I looked at Jack knowingly. 

After we left, Jack said, "The curse is still on but we can beat it.  To begin with, we can't ever tell anyone where the gold is.  The second part of the curse, we'll melt the gold down, pour it into cracks in a rock formation I know of and then dig it back out.  Then we'll be spending gold that we have mined ourselves instead of the King's Gold."

"Sounds pretty risky to me," I said, but Jack wouldn't listen.  We set off to find the escarpment to hide our gold in. Jack knew the perfect outcrop of rocks along the eastern side of the San Andres Mountains, about 20 miles north of Salinas Peak.  He took his blacksmith tools out of the wagon.  We built a huge fire,  put the gold in the crucible and sprinkled in some boric acid.  We poured the melted gold into the crevices of the rock formation knowing it could be chinked out later.

Jack and I went our separate ways but agreed to meet back at our hiding place one year to the day, on July 16th.  I woke up before dawn to pack up and head across the mountain near Hot Springs where I was staying.  Right before daylight, a blast of light filled the sky making it look like it was high noon; a thunderous roar knocked me off my horse and rolled me halfway down the mountain.  A giant mushroom of dust and light rose up from the Tularosa Basin while the mountains trembled and the earth shook underneath me.  I would later find out that they were testing an atomic bomb to drop on Japan.

I caught my horse a short while later and rode up to where I was supposed to meet Jack at our hidden "mine."  The side of our hidden spot in the mountain had crashed down during the bomb test.  I saw Jack's horse tied to a tree about a hundred yards away. The handle of Jack's pick axe was sticking out of the ruble.  I yelled his name over and over but there was no sound beneath the tons of rocks that had crushed Tularosa Jack.

I felt deep sadness for my partner and friend who was always ready to kick up his heels for an adventure but who couldn't outsmart his fate.  I suppose there is an upside to Jack's providence. He died with more gold surrounding him than they have in Fort Knox and I suppose he had plenty of bullion for all the dance hall girls in heaven.

I don't know if the Spanish priest's curse is finally worn out, but I ain't taking any chances.  I am never going to tell anyone where that gold is - not to friend nor foe - not till the day I die.