The Pinos Altos Story

The young people among the new arrivals had to be initiated. If the young man was a tenderfoot he was taken “snipe hunting” but girls were treated in a more original fashion. They would be invited for a horseback ride to see the mines. The hostesses would rent horses from the miners who habitually stopped at the saloons on the way home from work. As the returning party approached town it was seen to that the horses were on their usual trails. In front of the saloons the horses would come to a dead stop. No amount of coaxing, whipping, nor under-the-breath cursing would make them move for ten minutes, just long enough for the owners to have their usual drinks. Then the horses lifted their heads and trotted to the home corrals. This may not seem funny now, but it was hilarious when a “nice girl” would not even glance at a bar room door. There were no hard feelings—it was just part of the wild and woolly west.

Pinos Altos was not a lawless place as old mining camps were supposed to be. There was a stout jail, first on the main street and then moved to the “Mill Site.” Offenders were not confined long. In early days if the crime was a major one justice was swift, and if it was a petty offence one night locked up was sufficient to sober the inmate. Mr. H. E. Muse was marshal for a time and his presence was enough to make would-be law breakers watch their steps. Ex-President Theodore Roosevelt, speaking from the steps of the Eckles home in Silver City on July 11, 1913, referred to a murder committed by one of his “Rough Riders” in Pinos Altos. The man had written for help saying, “he had killed a lady but thought he was shooting his wife.”

Mr. and Mrs. Peter Wagner had not been in America long when they came West during the ’70’s. Another French family came later and the two couples became close friends. When a baby was born to the second couple and the mother died, the Wagners took the baby girl and loved her as their own. Mrs. Wagner had been a lace-maker in Belgium and everything she made for the baby was trimmed with exquisite hand made lace. The Wagners wanted to adopt the child but the father would not give his consent. When the little girl was three years old the father left and took his daughter with him. Mrs. Wagner grieved until she became ill and after that was always considered queer. She would talk to herself and to her dogs but not to people. Besides working a mine and mill, “Pete” had a barber shop next door to John Oglesby’s saloon. Bob Close was a character who was very proud of his goatee. One day when he came into town he visited the saloon where he imbibed freely then went to the barber shop for a hair cut and a trim. He fell asleep in the chair and Pete went on to other business leaving him there. Some rascal saw him, slipped in and cut off the goatee. When old Bob awoke, from habit, he started to stroke his goatee. It was not there, nor was the barber, so he went raging into the saloon threatening to pound the little Frenchman to a pulp. Mr. Oglesby laughed and Bob accused him of the dastardly act, he swore and fingered his face, fighting mad. It took six men to subdue him and to assure him that the injury was not permanent. Wagner had invested in Silver City real estate and after his death Mrs. Wagner would walk there often carrying her shoes in her market basket, and after doing her shopping and collecting the rents would walk back. Mrs. Oglesby, who sometimes drove the stage, was the only person she would ride with. Later Henry Geitz was appointed trustee. Once he and Mrs. Wagner made a trip to Europe together in an attempt to find relatives. Mrs. Wagner said the persons they found were too old and she insisted on returning. During World War I all trace was lost of the relatives of both Mr. and Mrs. Wagner. Once when the rent was being given her, Mrs. Wagner said that she did not want the money, that the can in the woodpile was full. Some time later she was beaten and robbed and died as a result.

Fights originated in saloons and dance halls more often than anywhere else. Arguments started that only fist fights or gun play would settle. Usually the participants would be thrown out before anything serious happened. One Christmas Day, Tom Gibson, having the fore-runner of the Boy Scouts’ good deed in mind, offered to tend bar while John Oglesby ate dinner with his family. The loafers thought they would have some fun with the “tenderfoot,” as they regarded Tom. John kept a gun beneath the bar and Joe Acosta went looking for it. Tom told him to keep away. That started the fuss. Tom thought he was going to need the gun but it was not in the usual place so he tackled the bunch and literally threw each one out including big Valentine Gutierrez. Tom was accepted as a right guy from that time. Some G.O.S. cowboys were on their way back to the ranch after driving a herd to the stock yards. They had been having a big time in Silver City and were still whooping it up when they arrived, dropped the bridle reins and entered a saloon. A newcomer was acting as constable that day, and carrying a shot gun. He went after the cowboys for disturbing the peace and escorted them to the jail. As he unlocked the door he was overpowered, the key and his gun taken and he was locked inside. The cowboys returned to the saloon and, leaving the key and gun, told Mr. Oglesby what they had done and cautioned him to keep the constable locked up over night. Old “Plunder,” another of the town’s characters, went to let the man out next morning and dubbed him “Shot-Gun Smith.” “Oh, but my name is Alexander Keys,” said the erstwhile constable with dignity—but “Shot-Gun Smith” was what he was called as long as he was in the vicinity.

Juvenile delinquency was never a great problem. Boys always threw rocks. If a house was vacated vandals took it over. It was “great fun” to tease Mrs. Wagner. It was rumored she always carried a butcher knife in her market basket. Joe Munoz was tormented just to hear him storm in fluent Italian. Joe had a small store with rooms to rent above it. When it burned two men died in the blaze and a Silver City paper reported “that 10,000 other lives were lost”. Bed bugs. It is recalled that just after the Waterburys and their associates had gone, leaving a caretaker at the property, some youngster at school suggested that, since the caretaker was out of town for the day, it was a good time to have a swimming party in the Mammoth tank. He had seen the Waterburys swim there and he knew the tank was full. Swimming togs were unknown but since it was a boy and girl group that got together after school they gathered up odds and ends that would serve as bathing suits for everyone but one small girl. Finally they put her into her father’s hunting coat saying it was just the thing because it was water proof. The little girl jumped in as the others did, the pockets filled with water, and she went to the bottom like a chunk of lead. Fortunately the big boys got her out. Then it was suggested that each one take a souvenir from the house. The girls selected pens from an assortment on a desk and the boys searched for things more to their liking. Imagine what happened when the youngsters reached home! It was return the articles at once—or else! Never was a mile so long as that trudged by the weary and frightened children as they went back to the Mammoth. Pilfering never interested that particular group again. Another gang barbequed Mrs. Wagner’s chickens. For a season or two the main diversion of warm moonlight evenings was for the young people to raid orchards one evening. The next day the girls would make fruit pies which were enjoyed with coffee and music around a bonfire. One evening a plump forest ranger from Alabama was with the group when they took some luscious peaches from the old “Stanley Place.” The ranger put them inside his white shirt when the group was startled and ran with them to the high board fence at the rear of the orchard. Over he went, then with Southern gallantry, turned to help a girl, but she hadn’t waited for help. She landed bang against his chest and the peaches. He did not go on any more raiding parties. It was not known until years later that a conscientious young engineer who roamed with the gang would go to the owner, whether Bisby, Watson, or Young, the next day after the forage and pay for the fruit.

Fire was always a hazard and in spite of a volunteer fire department with a hand pump, hose, ladders and buckets the town was seriously damaged on many occasions. The first big fire occurred in 1888 just as the day shift, coming from work, reached the main street. They dropped their lunch pails and formed bucket brigades to the nearest wells. The smoke was seen in Cornishtown and the “Cousin Jacks” came hurrying down. It was midnight before the fire was out. The saloon keepers, whose buildings had been saved, rolled out the barrels and told the wearied fighters to help themselves. They did so gratefully and sat around singing until dawn. Spanish, English, Italian and Cornish voices blended in everything from drinking songs to hymns, from Mexican folk songs to operatic arias. Years afterwards a man who had been there said it was the finest concert he ever heard. The second big fire took the hotels and several homes late in the ’90’s. Other fires were controlled and kept from spreading but as the years went by fewer of the houses were rebuilt. The hotels never were. Mr. and Mrs. Louis Legros (parents of Mrs. Alice Huff) had a rooming house, restaurant, and bakery and they took care of transients for years. Later there were other accommodations until a surfaced road and good cars made it more convenient for visitors to stay comfortably in Silver City and to drive up to conduct business, admire the scenery, and to chat with old friends.

Pinos Altos was really settled by veterans of the War between the States and veterans of other wars have had their places in the life of the camp. Three or four young men were Rough Riders serving with Teddy Roosevelt. A number of the boys were members of the National Guard and as such were called to go after Pancho Villa. The very day they were welcomed home the United States declared war on Germany and they went off again. Like innumerable towns throughout the world our town had few able-bodied men left during World War II. From our small community twenty-five were in service and seven made the supreme sacrifice.

The Gila National Forest was established in 1906 and Pinos Altos was within the boundaries. Later the line was moved about one mile to the north where it now is. The Forest Service bought the old Dick Lee home, moved another building from the Burro Mountains and constructed a station. The first ranger stationed here was A. H. Douglas. At one time there were as many as five rangers on duty. There was much field work to be done which required horseback riding and packing over rough trails. Signal Peak originally was the peak nearer the Twin Sisters—so called because there was a signal station there in Indian days. Men from nearby saw mills—Ripley’s, Brownells, McMillan or Franeys—manned the station. The Forest Service chose Black’s Peak for its look-out. It is a few feet lower in altitude but has a better command of the forest. Many people now refer to it as “Signal”. In 1959 the Forest Service built a road to the tower. Get permission and a jeep and drive up in the spring when iris and locust are in bloom. It’s a treat.

A ghost town should have ghosts but none walk at the present time. However in the past there were events that curdled the blood and made one tremble with fear. There was a strike at one of the Pacific mines, not for higher wages, but perhaps it could be called for better working conditions. Laborers refused to work in a certain stope or to push the tram cars through a long tunnel from the stope to the ore bins. In those days miners carried iron candle sticks, with sharp points that could be stuck in the ground where light was needed. The first thing that disturbed the workers was the disappearance of the candles stuck along the tunnel walls before they could have burned out. Then they began to see moving lights and they knew evil spirits had taken over that part of the mine for no good purpose. After the second day when no worker had entered that section a foreman decided to get at the root of the trouble. He placed lighted candles in the usual places and sat down to watch and wait. After what seemed to be hours he heard furtive noises in the timbering, then a light went out, another light began to move. With his hair literally standing on end he held his breath. Three large gray pack rats, each bearing a candle, the one with the unlighted candle in the rear came into view. He let out a mighty yell. For him the mystery was solved but it took time and traps to convince the miners.

Another time as the graveyard shift came to the surface the men noticed a peculiar wavering light in the sky. Their first thought was that Pinos Altos was ablaze. They hurried up the trail to where they could look down on the town. All was serene. The lights were brighter and they said long fingers of blue and green mostly reached out, threatening the town. Making the sign of the cross, clutching their amulets, and muttering prayers they ran toward their homes, pausing now and then to warn their friends and neighbors. Practically everyone in town watched and marveled at the Northern Lights that night.

A woman in black walked the streets for a time. No one knew who she was nor where she stayed. She was never known to speak a word. One Sunday after the usual evening service a young woman employed in the Thayer home and a handsome stranger were married by Rev. Van Valkenburgh. This was the first wedding in the new church. The couple appeared to be very happy as they furnished and decorated their new home, and callers received a warm welcome. A shadow seemed to fall over the home in a short time and the gossips speculated about the reason. It was rumored that the Woman in Black was seen walking at night near the place. Without a word of explanation, the couple abandoned their home and secretly left town. The Woman in Black disappeared also. The Thayers may have known the reasons but, if so, they kept the secret.

The most baffling mystery was an episode that happened at the Davidson sawmill on Cow Creek about 1915. Billy Soule was running the mill at the time and he and his wife, Jimmie, lived there. A wild looking young man walked into camp one evening and said that he had been led there. Mr. Soule was suspicious but he gave the man supper and took him to a cabin where he could spend the night. Billy cautioned him about fire, said “Good night” and left him alone, vowing to himself that he would send the young man on his way in the morning. About midnight the camp was awakened by cries and calls from the forest. The first thought was of fire and everyone dashed out, prepared to fight their greatest foe. All was calm. Then the call came again for Mr. Soule, saying “Follow me, follow me”. Jimmie would not let her husband venture off without her, so both took their guns and headed in the direction indicated by the call. When they reached the man they found him pale and trembling but he would not explain, saying only that the voices told him to go up the mountain and that a light had guided him to the spot. After climbing about a half-mile, he stopped and pointed. Both Billy and Jimmy Soule said afterwards that they saw a light—a sort of glow near the ground under a large pine. Reaching the place they found a newly dug hole and in it was a human skeleton. The man said that his mission was ended and he would be on his way. However, Soule detained him and called the authorities. The sheriff went out early next morning, looked over the scene, questioned the man but learned nothing. The sheriff said the man was too young to have murdered the man whose bones were crumbling—that he was just a “crack-pot”. The hole was filled and forgotten, the young man was taken into Silver City and sent on his way. The mystery was never solved.

Schools

Captain Tevis in his recollections of Pinos Altos as told in “Arizona in the ’50’s” tells the story of Miss Rhoda Parker, a young woman from Iowa who came with her father and her uncle, a Mr. McCulloch, who were interested in mining. She was the first American woman to visit the camp and was immediately very popular with the miners. There were seven or eight Mexican and a few half-breed children in camp. Miss Parker thought it a shame that they had no schooling and offered to teach them. The more enterprising men suggested that each miner be taxed $2.50 to pay for her services, and the miners, wanting to keep a young and attractive woman in camp, heartily agreed. The school was started and continued until the beginning of the War Between the States. However, her duties were interrupted constantly by visits from the miners whose excuses were a new rich find or mines for sale but whose real purposes were proposals of marriage. She had 300 such proposals. She could not or would not make a choice. What a merry time she must have had!

The next record of a school is in the early ’70’s. Trolius Stephens brought his bride here in 1872. She was the second white woman and the only one for a long time. They were interested in the welfare of the people and were instrumental in starting a subscription school, donating the land and putting up a building which stood opposite the present Buckhorn Bar. There are no records of the first teachers. The terms were of five or seven months, depending on the amount of money raised.

In 1886, Nellie Robbins returned to her family after spending three years at school in Sedalia, Missouri, and accepted a teaching position. Her parents were living at the Deep Down, a mine east of Cross Mountain. Since she rode horseback to and from school her first earnings were spent for a riding habit which was made for her by Mrs. Stanley (Henry Stanley’s mother) of green velvet. Fringed gauntlets and a chic bowler hat completed her outfit. She changed into school attire at the home of Judge and Mrs. English (parents of Mrs. John Moses) where she also left her horse. Mr. Homogon Cuebas is the only one of her pupils, so far as is known, still living in the area.

Mr. Stephens felt responsible for “his people” as he called the miners who worked for him and their families. When weather was bad he would have Pancho, the handy man, hitch up the mules, gather the children, and get them to school. One winter when there was an unusually heavy snow he had runners made for the delivery wagon and the youngsters had sleigh rides to and from school. Ordinarily most children walked, some a distance of three or four miles. A few had ponies or burros, on which the younger ones would ride. Families were large. One father came into the store one day and said, “The kids are all in school now, but the weather is getting cold. They can’t go with bare feet. Sell me one dozen pair of shoes.” What sizes? “Oh, just assorted.” Brogans came in barrels in those days, so a dozen pair of assorted sizes were picked out and the Schafer children came to school, proud if awkward, in the new shoes.

By 1888 a larger school was needed, and again Mr. Stephens through the Pinos Altos Mining Company, known locally as “Bell and Stephens”, donated land and built on the present site. The people of the town were very proud of the new building and in the good American tradition would not be content until the flag was flying over it. Men found a beautiful pine well over one hundred feet tall in the forest, cut, trimmed and shaped it only to find that they could not get the pole into town by oxen without cutting it. They did so and by splicing it together again, painting it, and surmounting it with a golden ball (made by W. E. Watson), erected the pole ninety-two feet high. The first flag raising and dedication on Feb. 22, 1889, was an event attended by the townspeople. Lightning over the years shortened the pole and the cost of keeping it in repair caused it to be taken down after twenty years of service. The principal of the new school was a Mr. Tilman, followed by a Mr. Miller, W. H. Decker, Miss Lela Manville, Mrs. Grace Bisby, and others.

Under P.W.A. the old building was razed and a two-room adobe erected. It was inadequate and another building was put up. There were never more than six teachers employed during a term. The extra classes were held in the Community Church and in the old office building since destroyed by fire. Outstanding teachers, as judged by pupils, co-workers, and the community were Mr. Decker, Miss Manville, and Mrs. Bisby, who contributed not only educationally to the locale but to the county, civically and socially. The last teachers were Mr. W. Westwood and Mrs. Elton Robinson.

In the early days a board fence surrounded the playground and the favorite game at recess was “Follow the Leader” along the top of the fence. The boys also played “Kick the Can” or getting out of bounds, “Hide and Seek” in the nearby lumber yard and wood lot. The girls amused themselves with the old singing games. Both groups joined in marble games, jumping rope, and walking stilts when they were in season. Miss Manville introduced basketball and at that time games were played on the crest of the Continental Divide. Miss Eva McGregor drove up from Silver City once a week to instruct and Miss Clara Upchurch (later Mrs. Will Trevarrow), who was Miss Manville’s assistant, coached on other days and played with the girls.

As in all small communities the school house has been the center of activities. Until the Methodist Church was built in 1898 all Protestant denominations held services there. Magic lantern shows and Medicine Men and tight-rope walkers entertained there. At one Christmas party Santa’s sleeve caught fire from the candles on the tree. He was wrapped in coats and carried out while the small fry whimpered with fear and terror but there was no panic. Frank Brito appeared at the homes of friends on Christmas Day none the worse for his experience. During the depression years one building was used as a library and recreation center and was patronized by both children and adults.

Some years ago an educator wrote “The rural school has been a little house, on a little hill, with little equipment, where a little teacher, at a little salary, for a little while, teaches little children little things”. Some progressive school people decided that was all too true and with the American concept that bigger meant better, thought consolidation was a step in the right direction. Pinos Altos children now “ride the bus” into Silver City. That undoubtedly has its advantages but to oldsters there is a void and they look with regret at the abandoned buildings and sigh nostalgically for the sound of the bell and the sight of “Old Glory”.

Churches

The first Catholic church was built in 1868. The adobe ruins between the homes of Miss Ashton and Mrs. Strachbein may have been it. There is a record of Fr. Francis Bernal having visited the camp in 1869 where he baptized several children, one of them being a sister of Francisco Grijalva. At the time Mesilla was the center of the diocese and priests from there visited all ranches and small communities at least once a year, baptizing all children born during the year, hearing the marriage vows of those couples who had decided to live together since his last trip, and saying masses for those who had died. These hardy and devoted men were welcome everywhere, for not only did they represent the church, but they brought news of the outside world and gossip regarding persons and places in southwestern New Mexico. They had many adventures, some tragic, some comic and not always in keeping with the precepts of the church.

Many years ago an Irish-Catholic, whose given name was Martin Luther, lived here. He said his family had lived on a small ranch in a remote section of the country where the priest came but once a year, and that always there was a new baby when he arrived. One blustery and cold March day the good father appeared and after his mule had been cared for, he turned to the rancher and said, “Well, Mike, I suppose there’s a young one”. “Yes,” said the father, “A boy and I want him christened Martin Luther”. The good padre threw up his hands in holy terror. After a good meal of mutton, frijoles, tortillas and coffee the priest had not been softened and the father insisted that “Martin Luther” be the name. The priest had to leave early next morning so the baby had to be baptized that day but hours went by in talk of various matters, frequent nips from the little brown jug and back to the argument. The warm fire, good meal, and apple jack had made the two men drowsy. The priest asked that the babe be brought out for the rites and when he said, “With what name do I christen this child?” the father replied, “Martin Luther”. The old priest bowed his head, dipped his trembling fingers into the holy water, tenderly placed them on the baby’s head, and blessed “Martin Luther”.