Fort Sumner: A New Mexican Town

The following article was taken from page four of The Saline County Journal, published in Saline, Kansas on September 4th, 1879. It's posted here in its entirety (make note of the mention of Pat Garrett and Beaver Smith):

“A New-Mexican Town.

How a Scheme to Help the Indians Failed – The Government Builds a Village at Great Expense – Orchards, Gardens and Vineyards Planted – The Noble Red Man, However, Preferred to Steal, an

d a Speculator Bought Out Uncle Sam.

Special Correspondence of the Cincinnati Gazette

Fort Sumner, San Miguel, Co., New Mexico, June 13. – Probably no where [sic] on the frontier have so many changes occurred, in the last fifteen or twenty years, as at this little village on the Rio Pecos, 120 miles south of Las Vegas, New Mexico. Some years ago a grand plan of colonizing and civilizing the Navajo Indians was conceived by our generous government, and a ‘fat take’ it proved for many parties. A large tract of land, of which the chief characteristics are sand and alkali, was set apart for the special purpose of growing cereals for the poor red man. An immense dam was built across the river, and, for a time, proved effectual in changing its muddy waters from their natural channel into the large ‘acequa’ [sic] or irrigating ditch, prepared for it by the expenditure of thousands of dollars.

Besides the ditching, of which there is some twenty miles in all, the river was lined for several miles with an avenue of cottonwood trees, which serve at present to give a charmingly picturesque appearance to the place.

A large number of buildings were erected. Most of theme being mere adobes, have long since gone to ruin. Many are, however, in good repair. The timbers for the roofs of the houses were hauled over 100 miles, and their original cost was $8 per log. They are of the best white pine, and are as sound to-day as when first cut. A fine orchard and vineyard were planted, gardens and lawns laid out, and farming commenced. Poor Lo, I am sorry to say, did not take kindly to the project. Instead of earning his bread by the sweat of his brow, as the United States intended he should, he preferred to make occasional raids into Texas and other distant lands, and bring back large herds of horses, and sometimes a scalp or two by way variety [sic]. However, if the Indians did not make good farmers, it was not the fault of the government. To add style, as well as safety and majesty, to things in this locality, six companies of soldiers were stationed here for several years. After a time, when it had been demonstrated that no amount of money or labor could keep a dam across the Pecos, in good order; when most of the aboriginal farmers had grown rich from stealing horses and sheep, and had ‘vamosed [sic] the ranch,’ and all the contractors had got their pockets well lined with government securities, there came along a speculative American, Maxwell by name, who purchased the whole business, ‘lock, stock, and barrel,’ for the paltry sum of $5,000, thus becoming the sole owner of property that cost our great something over five millions.

Mr. Maxwell was too sensible a man to follow the old government plan of cultivating poor land, but turned his attention to stock, and in a few years he succeeded, by judicious management, in getting together a herd of the finest blooded cattle in the Territory. His attention was not confined to cattle, but horses and sheep came in, also, for their share. His sheep land covered a great extent of the country, and he was at one time the veritable sheep king of New Mexico.

In time Mr. Maxwell, like the rest of mankind, died, leaving the bulk of his property to his wife, a Mexican lady, who is still living. His family consisted of seven daughters and one son, a very prepossessing gentleman and an able manager of the vast estate now under his control.

Fort Sumner has lost much of its former glory, but is still an attractive place. A broken flagstaff and a solitary cannon alone mark the parade ground. The co-

mmissary building has degenerated into the habitation of an old negro washerwoman, and the Adjutant General’s office is occupied as a storeroom and Postoffice [sic] by Messrs. Garrett & Smith – the former an old buffalo hunter, and the latter the greatest beaver hunter of the Southwest, and widely known through this country and Texas as ‘Old Beaver Smith.’ His intimate friends claim that he has trapped more beaver than any two men who ever followed this business for a livelihood. The old man has entirely forsaken his favorite pursuit, but still loves to be called ‘Old Beaver.’ There is another store here kept by a Mexican who, in consequence of seldom keeping anything to sell, has but little patronage. The population of the place is probably 200 souls, the inhabitants, with few exceptions, being Mexicans. They all live in houses belonging to the Maxwell estate, and the only recompense they give for the use of them is an occasional coat of whitewash.

Mrs. Maxwell is a total abstinence woman, and will allow no intoxicating liquors sold in the place, so this is perforce a temperance town. A Mexican has lately been appointed Constable and Justice of the Peace pro-tem [sic]. On the second day of his judicial authority, there appeared before his Honor two Mexicans who had in dispute the ownership of a bull. Court was called in the shade of some cottonwoods, with the witnesses sitting astride an adobe wall, while his Honor rushed round trying to scare up a jury. He summoned Old Beaver, but finally let him off on his plea of being P.M., or as he termed it, ‘A U.S. official, and not subject to sit on a jury.’ However, the vacant seat was soon filled by a ‘Greaser,’ and the trial proceeded. There were no lawyers, but no lack of ‘jabber’ on that account. The case was finally decided, but who got the bull, whether the plaintiff, the defendant, judge or jury, I was unable to understand.

The postal facilities are very good for a country so sparsely settled. There is a daily mail, north and south, connecting at Las Vegas, for all points north, east, and west. The Cosgrew Bros [sic] are the present contractors of 400 miles of mail line south from Las Vegas, for which they receive an annual remuneration of $22,500. They have likely lost numbers of their fine mules through a party of freebooters known as the ‘Bustlers’ [sic], who rule this country with a rod of iron, taking stock and property whenever it suits them so to do with no one to offer any resistance.

The climate is salubrious and the air wonderfully clear and bracing. On a clear day the Captain [sic] Mountain, seventy-five miles away, is plainly visible. The days are sometimes terribly hot, but seldom sultry, while the nights are really cold, rendering sleep a most delightful refreshment.

June 25th – Just had a delightful little rain, making everything look fresh and green. The number of pea fowls here is greater than I ever saw in one lot before. They strut the streets, emitting their unearthly squawk, which rather counteracts the effect of their gorgeous appearance. We went fishing the other day, and succeeded in catching several turtles. Had turtle soup for dinner. Have our hooks set, and expect to make another haul of soft shells. There are some very good catfish in the Pecos. People here never saw a turtle cooked, and we elicited considerable surprise. Gave Mr. Maxwell two of the largest and told him how to have them cooked. He pronounced them excellent. Turtles are at a premium in this market, and are likely to suffer in the flesh hereafter.

A word more about Blanco Canon. The canon proper is situated about 150 miles northwest of Fort Griffin, and is consequently in Texas. Has a length, I believe, of about thirty miles, and is from a mile to ten or twelve miles wide. The draw, as it is called, extends nearly across the plains and heads about fifty miles from Fort Sumner, and inside the New Mexico line. From the head of the draw to the mouth of the canon is probably 150 miles. Grass and water are there in abundance, also plenty of cottonwood and cedar timber. They say that small grain does pretty well, but that corn does not make much headway, on account of the alkali in the soil. The experiments have not been on a very extensive scale, however. As I said before, it is the best place for stock I ever saw. The week after we came through, the Comanche Indians made a raid in this canon, and, I believe, killed a couple of men. The whites are said to have captured several horses. – Vinton.”