1958 - The Battle of Hart’s Drive In

I think this is the way the story goes. But don't hold me too much to the details. I'm an old man and my memory is going.

Anyway, it all began in 1948. Santa Fe was on the verge of a great building boom in that year. The Sears Roebuck Company announced plans to bring a store to Lincoln Avenue, just off the Plaza. Parker’s Roller Rink opened up close to the American Legion Hut. St. Vincent Hospital was about to start fund-raising for a new hospital to be built just up the street from the old one. And Hart’s Malt Shop debuted at 1370 Cerrillos Road, very close to Monterey Street, the entrance to Casa Linda, the new Stamm subdivision built around Kaune School.

The arrival of Hart's Malt Shop was big news to the kids in Santa Fe since the only other teen hangout at the time was Lee’s Snack Shack at 447 Cerrillos Road, the next block south of Santa Fe Motor Company. Though both offered the usual diner menu -- sandwiches, ice cream, chili and barbecue, Lee's offered his famous Jumbo Hamburgers whereas Hart's specialized in malts, floats, sundaes and banana splits. Lee’s motto, by the way, was “Take Home a Snack from the Snack Shack and You’ll Always be Back.” Hart's didn't have a motto.

In 1954, Everett Hart (who lived in the house behind the malt shop) gave up the space and the restaurant to businessman Leonard R. Bertram. Bertram noticed that more young Santa Feans were cruising Cerrillos road in hot rods and jalopies. So he converted the malt shop to a drive-in where cars were welcome. He called it Bert's Drive-In. Like Mr. Hart, Leonard Bertram and his wife Emma lived in the house behind the drive-in.

Bert's Drive-In proved to be profitable and soon the Bertrams moved into a house nearby on Monterey Street. Bert's was joined by two other Bertram operated drive-ins, Burger Bowl No. 1 at 236 Rosario Street and Burger Bowl No. 2 at 2007 Cerrillos Road. In late 1957, Bertram closed up Bert's Drive-In and began to operate only the two Burger Bowl drive-ins.

That's when Wyatt Hart, better known as Clyde Hart and (I suspect) a relative of the original Malt Shop founder, Everett Hart, moved into the house behind the drive-in and re-opened the drive-in under the name Hart's Drive-In. Unlike 1948, when the old Malt Shop was almost the only place in town for teens to patronize, 1958 offered considerably more competition.

Lee’s Snack Shack had long since disappeared. But Bert's had two Burger Bowl locations, there was Chuck's Drive-In at the Pen Road Shopping Center (changing its name that year to the Neet Teen Drive In), Country Boy Clem's Drive-in at 1311 Cerrillos Road, Blake's LotaBurger Drive Inn at 1915 Cerrillos Road, Ricky's Drive-In at 1713 Second Street and Ingram's Drive In at 1734 Cerrillos Road, serving the most exotic fare of all -- pizzaburgers and chocolate Cokes. But Hart's Drive-In was still struggling to get its fair share of the cokes and fries customers when trouble began.

A group of neighboring residents – mostly from the Kaune addition -- got up a petition against Hart's signed by over 230 people. The irate neighbors presented the petition directly to the City Council and demanded action. The petition asked the City to "abate a public nuisance" and alleged that certain lots in the 1300 block on Cerrillos Road were "being used continually as a hang-out or meeting place for persons unknown who constantly create disturbances at all hours of the night by quarreling, fighting, drinking intoxicants, engaging in drunken brawls, throwing beer cans and other refuse items on the property of the undersigned, racing unmuffled automobiles, engaging in sex practices, and generally conducting themselves in a manner prejudicial to the health, safety, comfort, property, sense of decency and morals of the children who live in the area."

Clyde Hart, the owner of Hart’s Drive-In, declared that he ran a clean and quiet operation. He claimed that the real reason he was being targeted was because of professional jealousy. And he pointed his finger straight at Leonard Bertram.

It turned out that one of the irritated residents who signed the neighborhood petition was one L. R. Bertram, owner of his own string of Burger Bowl drive-ins. Interestingly, until 1957, Bertram had operated Bert's Drive In at the same spot -- even living in the same house behind the restaurant. But, in 1958 he lived on Monterey Street around the corner from Hart's Drive In.

But Mr. Bertram denied any accusation of professional jealousy, saying he didn't consider Hart's to be competition for his drive-ins which were "an entirely different type operation." In his letter of response to the City Council, Bertram said he understood what it was like to operate a drive-in restaurant at that spot. He himself had done it for several years. And he wasn't against the teenagers, most of which were just good, wholesome kids. At days end, Bertram said, he was just one of many in the residential neighborhood who were fed up with the noise and fights at Hart’s Drive In.

The City Council assigned the citizen's petition to the police committee for action. A few weeks later, the committee set forth new "obligations"applicable to all drive-ins within the city." From then on, owners of drive-in properties had to "police" their own premises, call the city police promptly if there was trouble and keep the premises clean. Finally, all drive-ins were barred from playing juke boxes over loud speakers.

And that's what ended the war between Hart's and Bert's.

These days, the building at the center of the battle -- 1370 Cerrillos Road -- is occupied by a florist shop run by a very nice couple named DeVargas. Hart's Drive-in (operated in its last days by old man Everett Hart again) closed around 1967. Ingram's, Neet Teen, Ricky's . .. they're all gone. Bert's Burger Bowl No. 2 is now a parking lot for a vacant Blockbuster store. But Bert's Burger Bowl No. 1 -- now under the stewardship of Fred De Castro -- is still going strong on Rosario Street, advertising itself as the “last of the original drive-ins.”

The only other thing I remember about those days was that Leonard Bertram claimed to be the first to introduce the chili cheeseburger to Santa Fe. No one believed it then, either.

1968 – The Lost Time Capsule

Mr. Paul Hudson, Director

International Time Capsule Society

Oglethorpe University

4484 Peachtree Road NE, Atlanta, GA 30319

Dear Mr. Hudson:

I write to apply for membership in the International Time Capsule Society. I am new to the study of time capsules, but since I heard about the International Time Capsule Society and its dedication to the study of the history of time capsules, I've made it a point to learn more about time capsules.

For example, there's a mention of one in the Epic of Gilgamesh which, I understand, was a best seller among ancient Mesopotamians some 4,000 years ago. I hope to read it someday.

I also learned that during the 1939 World’s Fair, Westinghouse buried a time capsule to be opened 5,000 years in the future. Sealed in a 90' corrosion resistant "cupalloy" metal rocket-shaped cylinder were common everyday artifacts, a newsreel, and microfilm versions of the encyclopedia, a dictionary and the entire 1939 Sears & Roebuck mail-order catalog. That should impress the humans of the year 6939, assuming they haven't already evolved beyond human form to become glowing balls of mental energy.

And I learned that on July 4, 1976, President Gerald Ford was set to seal a bicentennial time capsule in a formal ceremony at Valley Forge, PA when someone stole it out of an unattended van and walked away with it. That's just plain embarrassing.

I know all about the most ambitious time capsule of them all, the Crypt of Civilization, located at Oglethorpe U by Thomas Jacobs, considered the modern father of the time capsule. The Crypt, sealed in 1940, contains a swimming pool sized collection of artifacts, literature and even a set of Lincoln Logs to be opened in 8113. I only wish I could be there to see that.

Since discovering the International Time Capsule Society and its distinguished founders, all prestigious authors of books and magazine articles about time capsules, I want to learn even more about time capsules. If it is at all possible, I want to be a member of the International Time Capsule Society in the missing time capsules department.

I know that the Society keeps a registry of known time capsules and, in 1991, issued a list of the ten most wanted time capsules -- capsules famous for being lost. And through those efforts, the Washington State Territorial Centennial Time Capsule was found in 2002 after being lost since 1953 when the Legislature paid for the burial of the time capsule but failed to fund the marker.

The missing time capsules department is where I think I can be useful because I know of a missing time capsule in my own home town -- the City of Santa Fe. And I hope that, after you hear this story, you will consider adding the 1867 Santa Fe Time Capsule to your ten most wanted list.

It seems that sometime in October 1867, the City of Santa Fe in cooperation with the local Masonic lodge buried a time capsule somewhere under the plaza. The newspapers of the time reported that the capsule contained coins, seals and copies of local newspapers, the territorial laws, and a copy of the United States Constitution. The time capsule was to be opened a hundred years in the future.

But, through some oversight, the 100^th anniversary year – 1967 - went by without anyone noticing. It wasn’t until a year later in 1968 that the Old Santa Fe Association asked for permission to look for the time capsule. With the City’s blessing, the Association hired some scientists from Los Alamos to use state of the art technology to detect the capsule’s location. The scientists set up their gizmos on the plaza and prepared to subject it to magnetic waves, gamma rays, X-rays and other rays they apparently had laying about.

But the scientists already had a good clue exactly where to look. Centuries ago, the Masons developed an elaborate ceremony for the installation of corner stones and a precise protocol for burying their time capsules. The Masons invariably buried their time capsules in the northeast corner of a monument. Since the local Masonic Lodge had collaborated with the city in the sealing of the time capsule, the scientists began their search at the Soldier’s Monument in the center of the Plaza. Their instruments quickly detected a cavity exactly under the northeast corner. But the instruments could not tell what was in it.

The City Council permitted a crew, under the direction of noted architect John Gaw Meem, to excavate in that area. After several days of digging, nothing turned up and Meem prepared to close up the dig and report failure.

But one City Councilor decided to continue the project on his own. In broad daylight, Councilor Lee Rubinstein and his excavation crew (which consisted of two guys from his neighborhood) began shoveling away under the northeast corner of the monument on the Plaza. Apparently, the digging went on quite a while before someone from the City noticed and put a stop to it. While Rubenstein had produced an impressive hole in the Plaza, he had unearthed no time capsule.

Rubenstein told the papers that he thought he was just doing his duty as a councilman by finishing the job left undone by John Gaw Meem. This explanation did not sit well with the public or with his fellow city council members. At a hastily called meeting, an angry City Council learned from the city’s engineers that Rubenstein’s unauthorized excavation posed an imminent danger to the stability of the Soldier’s monument. The prospect of the beloved obelisk toppling over after more than 100 years on the job electrified the Council, which promptly ordered the immediate repair of the monument with a crew directed by John Gaw Meem, all at Rubenstein’s expense. Councilman Rubenstein groused but agreed. A day later, the monument on the Plaza was intact and upright, firmly planted in cement.

In all the excitement over Rubenstein's shenanigans, the time capsule was forgotten and the mystery of the 1867 Santa Fe Time Capsule has never been solved.

Perhaps, if my application for membership in the International Time Capsule Society is favorably considered, I might be invited to the next regular meeting to address the members on this historical curiosity.

I await your decision and until then, I intend to put to good use your valuable "Eight Tips for Organizing a Time Capsule" on my own time capsule project. I'm starting just as soon as I can find some cupalloy.

Hoping to Join You Soon!

1956 - Students in the News

 

Three St. Michael’s High School students were selected as delegates to New Mexico Boys State for 1956. They were Robert Brown, son of Mr. And Mrs. John M. Brown, 413 Salona; Richard Rodriguez, son of Mr. And Mrs. Alex Rodriguez, 927 Roybal; and Louis Bransford, son of Mr. And Mrs. E.W. Bransford of 525 Hillside. Santa Fe High was represented by Buddy Holmes, Bill Van Buskirk, Phillip Santistevan, Richard Contreras and Roy Beacham. Girl’s State delegates from Santa Fe High were Julienne Loomis, Chere Torres, Donna Kinnard, Librada Rodriguez and Peggy Pick.

The Santa Fe New Mexican interviewed high school seniors from St. Michael’s High School and Santa Fe High on their hopes and plans for the future. From St. Michael’s, senior Michael Cunningham, 17, planned to study electrical engineering and move to the east to work. Donald Gonzales, also 17, wanted to study to be a dentist. Eddie Lopez, 17, said he was sure about college but didn’t know what he would take and he was hoping a basketball scholarship would help out. Fernando Gonzales was set on being an engineer of the civil variety. And Dennis Garcia had his eye on a chemical engineering degree and he had the grades for it.

At Santa Fe High, senior Wylie Lucero planned to be a commercial artist, Lucy Rivera was interested in medicine and planned to be a medical technologist. Jimmy Sikes was interested in engineering and had applied at the Air Force Academy. Cornelia Lowndes wanted to be a high school teacher and was looking for a scholarship. Mary Florence Connery wanted to be a nurse and she was already been accepted at the Church Home and Hospital in Baltimore. Fred Maes wanted to major in physics at the School of Mines in Socorro. And Susan Maguire planned to go to UNM and study to become a grade school teacher.

The drama “Jacob Comes Home” was presented by the Santa Fe High School drama players, featuring Archie West, Corrine Mora, Patti Pick, Tommy Trujillo, Mary Jo Seiber and Gaylord Smith. As an added attraction, a one-act play was shown as well, called ‘Minor Miracle,’ starring Jackson Dennis, Charles Boatright, Richard Henderson and Ray Reynolds.

The St. Michael’s High School Honor Roll was announced. There were literally dozens of names listed among the honored scholars, including elementary school students since, in those days, St. Michael’s had classes from the fifth grade to the twelfth grade.

Space permits mention of only a few from each class. Seniors: Ben Castle, Dennis Garcia, Don Gonzales, Mike Durkovich, Carlos Serna, Andy Quintana and Herman Vigil. Juniors: Robert Brown, Hermilio Naranjo, Louis Bransford, Joe Miller, Ted Montoya, Tom Ortiz, Anthony Serna, Andrew Tafoya and Joe Matta. Sophomores: Richard Apodaca, Tony Blea, David Brito, Pat Lujan, Don Mackel, James Sacoman and Don Sandoval.

Pojoaque High School planned its annual Valentine’s Day Dance but had yet to choose a queen at press time. Among the candidates were Mary Valdez, a freshman, Sally Roybal, a sophomore, Stella Lopez, a senior and Diolinda Roybal, a junior. The new Queen would accept the crown from the outgoing Queen, Patsy Jiron.

St Michael’s High School announced the results of the election for Student Council to take office in the upcoming school year. Ted Montoya won the President’s office, defeating John Sena and Hermilio Naranjo. Ben Castle, the outgoing Student Council President handed over the gavel to new President Ted Montoya in a formal ceremony.

Loretta Armijo won the crown as Queen of the B.F. Young Junior High School Winter Formal of 1956. The favorite of the students, Queen Loretta was attended by Patsy Apodaca, Carol Sue Lewis and Lena Belle Valencia. Trainbearers were Belinda Apodaca and Patty Armijo. Loretta was crowned by Filbert Baca, ninth grade Class President in a ceremony at intermission at the ball.

St. Michael’s High School held a Valentine’s Day Dance with the entire program dedicated as a valentine to Loretto Academy. The lucky boys of St. Mike’s had six Loretto seniors to choose from for the honor of Queen of the Valentine’s Day Dance: Angie Ortiz, Imelda Delgado, Marcia Baca, Theresa Montoya, Helen Montoya and Amelia Romero. When the votes were counted, the most popular was Imelda Delgado. The pretty senior was surrounded by her court – a representative from each class: Pat Vigil, a freshman, Adrienne Arias, a sophomore, Corinne Jacques, a junior and senior Theresa Montoya.

The St. Michael’s High School graduation in 1956 was a solemn affair and the largest, too. Sixty-eight graduates, the largest senior class in the ninety-seven year history of the school. Singled out for honors were Dennis Garcia and Ben Castle. Ben Castle earned the highest scholastic average over four years and was named the class valedictorian. Dennis Garcia was a close second and delivered the salutatory speech. Ben was headed to the Catholic University of America on a full scholarship and Dennis won a scholarship to the New Mexico Institute of Mining and Technology in Socorro.

Santa Fe High School announced 237 graduates in 1956, the largest graduating class in its history. Valedictorian Nancy Mann and Salutatorian John Dendahl gave the principal addresses and Dr. Gayle Renfro, President of the New Mexico State Board of Education, handed out the diplomas.

Loretto honored 47 graduates for 1956. Mary Josephine Brady ranked first in the class and gave the valedictory. She also won a full scholarship to Webster College in St. Louis. Marcia Baca was salutatorian and winner of a scholarship to Loretto Heights College in Denver. Rosalie Baca, who came in third in scholastic standings, won a scholarship to St. Joseph’s College in St. Louis. Three other girls won, through competitive examination, scholarships to other schools – Judy Knight, Anna Marie Sandoval and Angie Ortiz.

The engagement of Miss Amelia Elizabeth Romero to Mr. James Hollis was announced after midnight mass early Christmas Day at the home of her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Arthur Romero, 316 Houghton. James was the son of Mr. and Mrs. Pat Hollis, 183 Hopi Road. Miss Romero was a member of the 1956 graduating class of Loretto Academy and Mr. Hollis was attending the University of New Mexico. Attending the announcement party were classmates of the bride: Angie Ortiz, Dorothy Vigil, Imelda Delgado and Teresa Montoya -- and classmates of the groom: Larry Delgado, Joe Ortiz, Fernie Gonzales, Alfonso Vigil and Manuel Martinez. A June wedding was planned.

1952 – The Great Fiesta Revolt

 

The Santa Fe Fiesta is more than colorful religious processions, the burning of 40-foot effigies, pet parades, Fiesta Queens, mariachi music and chicharron burritos.There is actual blood and guts history to lend authenticity to the proceedings, almost 400 years of history.

In a way, Fiesta is required for the citizens of Santa Fe. In 1712, then-governor of the Kingdom of New Mexico Paez Hurtado issued a Proclamation requiring an annual re-enactment of DeVargas’ peaceful entry into Santa Fe in 1692, twelve years after the Spanish were driven out by an Indian revolt. So every year since 1712, dutiful Santa Feans obey the Proclamation, even though the Spanish Governors have long since gone.

In the 1920's, Fiesta became more than just a re-enactment of the "bloodless conquest," but a celebration incorporating solemn religious ceremonies and considerably less solemn secular activities. Zozobra, parades and Fiesta Queens became annual events. In the early days, the Fiesta was a loose cooperative effort between the City of Santa Fe, the Catholic Church, the Museum of New Mexico and leading businessmen. In 1927, the Santa Fe Fiesta Council was formally incorporated with stockholders consisting of members representing city government, local businesses, museums, the church and various social organizations.

The Santa Fe Fiesta Council quickly grew into a powerful player in Santa Fe life and holding an office on the Council carried with it considerable prestige. Over the next twenty-five years, a surprisingly small group of powerful men and women routinely planned all Fiesta activities and, by and large, Santa Feans seemed comfortable with the results. There had always been some complaint about the creeping commercialization of Fiesta, but the 1951 Fiesta may have pushed the envelope too far.

The 1951 Fiesta was a "shabby commercial carnival." So pronounced Pulitzer Prize winning writer and longtime Santa Fean Oliver La Farge who, judging from his regular appearance in the papers, had a large number of opinions on a great many things. And his opinion was that the 1951 Fiesta was a shabby commercial carnival and something ought to be done about it.

He was joined in this opinion by by artist Will Shuster, the man who invented Zozobra. LaFarge and Shuster believed the Fiesta Council to be under the influence of the concessionaires, the very concessionaires who had turned Fiesta into what La Farge called a hot dog and popcorn affair, paying hefty fees for the license to do so. The two set out to challenge the establishment and recruited lawyer Tom Catron to help them.

The strategy of the rebels was simple and straight from the Council’s own book - the 1927 Council by-laws - which included a provision for a stockholder’s meeting to elect new members of the Council. As it happened, Will Shuster was a Fiesta Council member in 1952 so he stood up and called for an election meeting as the by-laws permitted. The Council swiftly denied Shuster’s motion because, they said, those stockholders meetings had been amended out of the by-laws years ago. As a matter of long-standing practice, the Council members simply filled a vacancy by a vote among themselves.

Shuster was surprised by the mention of amendments to the by-laws because he had never seen any so he asked for them to be promptly produced. But the Fiesta Council parliamentarian couldn’t immediately find them and the the meeting ended with a promise to locate the missing amendments. A day later, however, the State Corporation Commission confirmed that no amendments to the 1927 by-laws had ever been filed. It didn’t count that the Fiesta Council really and truly thought they had filed them.

This was exceedingly good news for the insurgents, and their lawyer Tom Catron, who immediately grasped that, under the current by-laws without any phantom amendments, several previous Council elections had been illegally conducted. It followed that those purporting to hold office based on those elections were acting without any authority. And that was exactly Shuster’s challenge at the next meeting, when he called for the "illegal" officers to step down and for immediate elections of new officers.

While pondering this surprising turn of events, the Council received another written demand for an election by Oliver LaFarge, acting as spokesman for 35 prominent Santa Fe businessmen who represented the elite of Santa Fe’s business world -- La Fonda, The First National Bank of Santa Fe, Public Service Company of New Mexico, Sanco Ford and Santa Fe Motors, Dendahls, Clossons, Zook’s Pharmacy and many others. LaFarge reminded the Council that these businessmen constituted a formidable number of the Council membership and that these same businessmen had always carried most of the financial load of producing the annual Fiesta but were now hesitant because they felt excluded from the planning process.

This was stunning news to the Fiesta Council of 1952, consisting of President John Valdez, Jr., and council members A.B. Martinez, Helene H. Baca, Marie Sena, J.V. Lanigan, George March, Pat Vigil, Irwin Goodman, Delfina Salazar and Dick Bokum – all of whom were accustomed to wielding power, not yielding it. Bowing to the pressure, however, the Fiesta Council approved a stockholders meeting for late February 1952, time enough for several lively letters to the editor and a few op-ed pieces in the local newspaper.

The February meeting was a disaster. The businessmen’s group, calling itself the Members’ Committee, spoke through lawyer Tom Catron. The businessmen joined Council Member Shuster in challenging the legal authority of the present Council based on eight void past elections. Catron apparently spoke at great length, claiming that several members of the present Council were holding office illegally and that, under the by-laws, there were actually eight vacancies because the elections were invalid under the un-amended by-laws and so forth and so on. But the longer Catron talked, the shorter grew the temper of Council President John Valdez who abruptly adjourned the meeting. The Fiesta Council officers put on their coats and walked out, leaving Catron and the Members Committee in "stunned disbelief." Really. That’s how the New Mexican described it in reporting the story.

A new meeting was set up but this time the Council had devised a new tactic. As a result of a secret meeting, the Council quickly granted membership and voting rights to the concessionaires -- the same villains who had bought rights to set up hot dog and popcorn booths and kiddie rides on the plaza. With the added numbers, the Council was obviously attempting to pack the voting membership with allies. Despite howls of protest, the new majority ruled and the new Fiesta Council faction promptly voted down Shuster’s motion to declare vacancies.

The insurgents then brought out the heavy artillery. The Santa Fe businessmen, acting as a group, vowed to stop all and any contributions until the Fiesta was no longer run by the concessionaires and until the businessmen could have some say in Fiesta planning. Everyone knew, including the Fiesta Council, that without the financial contribution of the business community, there simply would be no Fiesta.

The Council quickly formed a so-called Blue Ribbon Committee to explore compromise but the negotiations didn’t last long. The rebel faction had three basic demands. First, that the concessionaires not be allowed to vote; second, that nobody got paid for rendering service to the Fiesta – that was a shot at one of the Council members who was being regularly paid a nice salary for being the council secretary -- and; third, that eight council members resign and new ones be elected to resolve the legal problem with the by-laws. The principals for the Fiesta Council flatly rejected the proposals and all talks were cut off.

But the battle had only begun.

First, Will Shuster demanded $3,000 to put on Zozobra. Usually, he did it for free, but now he said that as long as the Fiesta was being run as a carnival for profit, he might as well get some, too. His point was not lost on the Council, which had little money to begin with but could not envision a Fiesta without Zozobra.

Then, the Museum of New Mexico announced that it would not loan its buildings or facilities for Fiesta use and the New Mexico Alliance for the Arts pulled out of the Fiesta because the once proud event had degenerated into a honky-tonk carnival.

Then came the final straw: The Catholic Church announced it was not going to participate in Fiesta activities and it would hold typical Fiesta religious activities before or after the Fiesta, but not during Fiesta.

In desperation, the Fiesta Council recruited the respected director of the Museum of Fine Arts, Reginald Fisher, to come up with a plan to try to heal the rift. Fisher spoke with all parties, pondered the matter, then solemnly announced a proposed plan calling for the creation of a “popular” Fiesta and keeping the carnival aspects of this popular Fiesta apart in time and space from the more traditional and religious activities. Fisher also recommended restructuring the Fiesta Council along the lines suggested by the Members Committee. Stripped of fancy talk, this was exactly what the insurgents had requested.

Fiesta Council President John Valdez, Jr. publicly rejected the Fisher plan, promptly resigned as President and stormed out the door. At the next regular meeting, half the Council members failed to appear. The Council was in deep disarray. At long last, the Council caved.

A new president was elected, Del Miera, an affable insurance agent tied to the Santa Fe business community. He acted swiftly to disallow the out-of-town concessionaires from voting and sent emissaries from the various clubs and associations to Santa Fe businessmen to return them to the fold. Miera also ordered the carnival-like booths away from the plaza area to restore some dignity to the more traditional Fiesta events that usually took place on the town square. Miera issued an open invitation to one and all to help plan the 240-year-old annual celebration. Some Council Members stepped down and new ones were elected.

Declaring victory, the Church, the Museum and the businessmen all returned to the Council’s side, eager to set aside old disputes and make the 1952 Santa Fe Fiesta the best ever. Looking back, it is debatable whether the ’52 Fiesta was the best ever but it was easily the most expensive. Records show that the Fiesta Council ended up in debt at the end of the year, despite saving the $3,000 they didn’t have to pay Will Shuster who, as it turned out, happily produced Zozobra for free.

1940-1941 – The Lost Season

Judging from the local newspaper, Santa Fe led an active local sports life in 1941. Sports minded men and women participated in several organized leagues for bowling, softball, baseball and basketball. But high school athletics was the sports fan’s major interest, particularly the games between the cross-town rivals –the Santa Fe High School Demons and the St. Michael’s High School Horsemen -- a deep and abiding rivalry that went back to 1924 when the city’s only two high schools first began competing.

In 1940, St. Michael’s High School assembled the greatest Horseman basketball team in history. The Horsemen squad was anchored by the most excellent Buster Hiller and Sammy Ortiz as forwards, Stanley Gallup and Bobby Rutherford as guards and Tom Irigoyen at center. The Demons were strong as well, boasting Lavon McDonald and Billy Burrus at forward, Chester Clemens and Clyde Faucett at guard and David Livingston at center.

In the first regular season game between the ancient rivals in January 1940, the Horsemen scored fast and often but the Demons held on close behind, chasing the Horsemen 14-11 at the half. The Demons put on a rough defensive game, so rough that the two Demon guards fouled out in the 4^th quarter. But, by the end of the third quarter, Demon defense was simply academic. Horseman star Buster Hiller was on fire, scoring 19 points, with teammate Sammy Ortiz in for 8. The final score was Horsemen 32, Demons 17. By the scoring standards of the day, the Horsemen simply crushed the Demons.

In the second Horsemen-Demon match-up a month later, the Demons deliberately put up a “Stop Hiller” defense but it failed spectacularly. The Horsemen scored at will. Buster Hiller hit again for 19 points, Sammy Ortiz hit 10 and, right off the bench, Bobby Digneo hit 6 points. The Demons demonstrated no discernible offense, were unable to get inside and posted embarrassingly low shooting percentages. Demon high point man was Clyde Faucett with 5 and big David Livingston, the Demons’ highly vaunted scoring star, scored only 2 points. The Demons went down in flames, 42-19.

Notwithstanding their lopsided losses to the Horsemen, the Santa Fe High School Demons were formidable that year and it was inevitable that Santa Fe High and St. Mike’s would meet in the final game of the state championship tournament in 1940, hosted by Raton.

Naturally, the two teams from Santa Fe met each other in the big final game for the 1940 State High School Basketball Championship. It was an intense physical game with neither team giving quarter. The score was tied seven times, always the Horsemen playing catch-up to the Demons. But in the final minutes, the Horsemen shooters started to connect, and the Horsemen suddenly found themselves ahead 25-24. And, with just 25 seconds to go, the Horsemen had possession of the ball. Victory seemed assured.

Then, Demon Myral Delph shocked the Horsemen when he stole the ball, flew down the court all alone, and performed a picture-perfect lay-up. The only problem was that the ball refused to drop. Instead, the ball whirled around the rim 2 or 3 times and came right back out.

The all-important rebound fell to a Horseman who promptly heaved it down-court to a solitary Sammy Ortiz, standing a few feet from the basket, who made the easy shot, sealing the Horsemen win at 27-24.

Santa Fe went wild in celebration. It was, after all, the first time a Santa Fe team had ever won a state championship. Fans escorted the champions in from Raton in an auto caravan reportedly miles long. There were gaudy trophy presentations, city proclamations and banquets honoring the team by everyone from the Alumni to the Civitans. And five Horsemen players made all-state.

For the city’s high school sports fans, 1940 was glorious. But for the St. Michael’s High School Horsemen, it was the beginning of a long strange journey. It began with an invitation to play in the National Catholic High School tournament, an honor for a tiny Catholic boys school and an opportunity for national recognition. But, in order to play, St. Mike’s would have to join the national catholic high school association and, under the rules of both organizations, resign from the state high school association. This the school did, and off the team went.

The Horsemen did very well at the national tournament, winning everything up to the finals and then losing a close championship game to Central Catholic from Fort Wayne, Indiana. Thus, in 1940, the St. Michael’s Horsemen won second place among all catholic high school basketball teams in the nation. Having honorably concluded the 1940 season, St. Michael’s High School prepared for 1941.

A few months after the conclusion of National Catholic tournament, St. Michael’s High School applied to rejoin the state high school athletic association, expecting to be accepted as a matter of routine. The School was shocked when, without any explanation, the state association flatly denied their request. There were talks, there were letters, then tempers flared and, finally, the lawyers were called in. Predictably, there were rounds of meetings, then hearings, then a final appeal to the highest court in the state.

The matter was finally settled by the New Mexico Supreme Court which ordered the association to promptly reinstate St. Michael’s High School. But with all the legal wrangling, that decision had been almost a year in coming. In the meanwhile, St. Mike’s had missed an entire basketball season, not permitted to play other high schools. The school had formed a team anyway and the Horsemen played several independent schools, some of them as far away as Texas, and picked up several wins against City League teams.

And the Horsemen missed several games of the 1941 football season, as well. In fact, when St. Michael’s association membership was formally reinstated in late October 1941, it was just in time for the Capital City Football Tournament. An untested Horsemen team still managed to beat the Demons, 7-6, at Magers Field and take home a gleaming first place trophy.

Interestingly, the Demon football squad had such a good season in 1941 that they were invited to Denver to play against Colorado’s top teams, an opportunity St. Michael’s High School missed, thanks to the uncooperative state athletic association. In a signature display of sportsmanship and generosity, St. Michael’s High donated its share of the concession proceeds from the city tournament to Santa Fe High School to help finance the Demons’ trip to Denver.

The Horsemen Fight Song

Give a cheer for dear St. Michael’s

And forever sing its name

For the team that’s on the gridiron

Is extending on its fame.

Come on, boys, put that ball over

Get it there with plenty of fight.

Three cheers for all the Horsemen,

For the Blue and for the White.

Rah! Rah! Rah!

1950 – The Doctor Makes a House Call

I ran across Allen Stamm’s obituary the other day. If you’re from Santa Fe, you know the name. In fact, if you’re from Santa Fe, you may very well have lived in an Allen Stamm subdivision. Me, I lived on Sombrio Drive in the Casa Solana subdivision as a kid and, when I bought my first home, I bought one on Caminito Alegre, just a few blocks away in the same neighborhood.

But this story isn’t about me. It starts with Allen Stamm, a true Santa Fe legend. Allen Stamm’s fame and fortune came from a career as Santa Fe’s premier land developer and homebuilder. Originally from Albuquerque, Stamm excelled as an athlete –- he was a state high school tennis champion -- and trained as a civil engineer. By the mid 1930’s, he was working as an engineer for state government –- mostly water projects – and he ran a side business remodeling homes in Santa Fe and Albuquerque. Then, he turned to home building full-time.

In 1938, he bought empty lots (at $210 each) in the Escalante area in Santa Fe and built a subdivision he called Lovato Heights, south of Cordova Road. It was a solid success with homes selling as fast as they could be built. Stamm was already planning his next subdivision when Pearl Harbor was attacked and everyone’s plans were put on indefinite hold. Stamm spent the war in the Navy.

When he returned to Santa Fe after the war, Stamm again bought cheap land and built the Casa Linda subdivision – the one around Kaune School. After that, he built the Casa Alegre subdivision, on either side of Osage Avenue between Cerrillos Road and Agua Fria Street. The most noted was his Casa Solana subdivision, 1956–1963, featuring a community building and pool, with pleasant sturdy homes boasting oak floors and vigas, set on wide streets curved around a shopping center, off West Alameda Street. Ultimately, Allen Stamm built nearly 2,800 homes in the Santa Fe area.

Anyway, in 1950, when this story takes place, Stamm was already a rich man, living in a gated home in posh Sol y Lomas. By then, Stamm had a wife and kids, including nine-year old Linda Stamm.

She’s the one who answered the door in early November 1950 to an oddly dressed man – he was wearing a stocking cap and dark glasses. He told the maid he was there to take Linda to her mother who was at a bridge party. Without hesitation, Linda left with the caller. The man also left a letter with the maid to deliver to the Stamms.

Hours later, when Mrs. Stamm returned home, she opened the letter and this is what she read:

“Your child has been kidnapped . . . The amount is $20,000 cash or negotiable bonds. Put same in envelope on top of your Sol y Lomas gate tonight if you can. If not until tomorrow night put a red rag as sign ... If not at all—your kid will die of cold and hunger. New Mexico is an easy place to lose a body. Do not talk about this to police, FBI or friends. Any effort to interfere with our messenger, the child dies.”

The Stamms put out a red rag on their front gate to buy time and promptly called police. Thus, the next night, when the “messenger” reached to retrieve the planted envelope of cash, the thirty law enforcement officers hidden in the wooded area around the house pounced on the ”messenger.” Two agents tackled the man, one administering a punch or two, only to discover it was not a man at all, but a woman carrying a .25 caliber automatic pistol.

And not just any armed woman, it was Dr. Nancy D. Campbell, 43, a Yale-educated gynecologist and obstetrician. She was a prominent Santa Fe physician with what everyone thought was a flourishing medical practice in the City for nearly 14 years. She had an office in the Coronado building, across from the new hospital and she enjoyed a reputation as an excellent doctor.

In her first year in Santa Fe (1943), along with the Catholic Medical Mission Sisters, Campbell opened a maternity institute and was credited with dramatically reducing the infant mortality rate in Santa Fe County. She was a popular speaker on medical matters before local women’s clubs. Personable and confident, the stylish doctor favored a “mannish” bob. And she had a penchant for brand new yellow Buick convertibles.

In custody, Dr. Campbell quickly confessed to being the “oddly-dressed man” and to tricking little Linda -- whom she knew personally – into her car, drugging the child with Seconal and tying her up in a drafty abandoned ranch house on the road to Madrid. Leaving the bound child in the cabin, the doctor then went on to dinner with friends in Las Vegas. The next day, she returned to Santa Fe to collect the ransom from the Stamms.

Upon learning the location of the ranch house, the police quickly recovered the child. According to the Santa Fe New Mexican, nine-year old Linda Stamm was cold and a little hungry, but was otherwise in good health. Time magazine reported rather more dramatically that Linda was found filthy, wrapped in rags, but nonetheless alive. Either way, her parents, Allen and Marty Stamm, were mad as hell, calling for the full penalty of the law for kidnapping. In 1950, that meant the death penalty.

Over the next several weeks, Campbell’s story emerged. Dr. Campbell confessed she did it for the money. She wanted to buy a big house, the one at 1120 Canyon Road, and pay off “domestic expenses” with the $20,000. In fact, the police found two more notes in her yellow convertible addressed to other prominent Santa Fe families whose children she had targeted for kidnapping.

While the kidnapping plot sounded carefully calculated, Dr. Campbell’s lawyer, A.L. Zinn, announced he would plead insanity as Campbell’s defense. His client, Zinn declared, suffered from something he called “brain deterioration.” He promised to produce national experts to prove it.

The trial was brief and brutal. Campbell’s insanity defense quickly fell apart and she was convicted of the kidnapping. But Campbell escaped the death penalty. Instead, she was sentenced to the New Mexico State Penitentiary.

The kidnapping excited and troubled Santa Fe. Residents took to locking their doors and writing angry letters to the editor bemoaning the decline of public morals. The few citizens who stood up in the beginning for Dr. Campbell, mostly former patients, grew silent as Campbell’s guilt and fate became clear. No one who witnessed this story unfold in 1950 ever forgot it. To this day, you can ask any Santa Fe old-timer about the kidnapping of Linda Stamm by Nancy Campbell and their memories are sharp on the point, many adding personal footnotes proving their connection to this decades old story.

But when I ask them whatever happened to Linda Stamm or Nancy Campbell, no one knew. So I undertook to find out .

Linda Stamm was sent off to live with relatives in Arizona, away from the curious, to grow up in relative calm. But, as a young woman, she returned to Santa Fe and took up life as a sculptor under her married name -- Linda Strong -- working out of a studio at her horse ranch in rural Santa Fe. In 1979, she produced a memorable sculpture group of young children having a water pistol fight, installed in a riverside park in Santa Fe, using her own children as models. The bronze children frolicked in the city park for over twenty years.

But in 1999, after the massacre at Columbine High School, the sculptures of children wielding guns -- albeit water pistols -- worried Santa Fe citizens, many of whom wrote letters to the editor of the New Mexican in protest. Linda Strong happily provided a replacement sculpture in which the children brandished water hoses, not water pistols.

Nancy Campbell went to prison, serving six years for the kidnapping. She was released in 1957. She was met at the prison gates upon her release by a small mob of eager reporters, each hoping to write the last chapter in what the typically hyperbolic New Mexican called “ one of the most sensational and contradictory crimes in the history of the Southwest.” But she refused to say where she would go or what she would do. Then, Nancy Campbell simply disappeared.

1964 – The Archbishop’s Big Goodbye

As tradition demanded, the 1964 Santa Fe Fiesta opened with fire. Zozobra, a giant 40 foot puppet otherwise known as Old Man Gloom, went up in flames before a frenzied crowd, the biggest crowd ever according to the Kiwanis Club, which annually sets up the spectacle. Of course, that’s what the Kiwanis say every year.

Big Z was in good voice that night, groaning as the little glooms danced around him, the sorrowful voice provided by Gus Denninger who, by the way, was my dentist at the time. Jacques Cartier, extravagantly costumed in red and festooned with feathers, danced before the doomed effigy, fireworks were launched and it was, all in all, pretty damned glorious. Of course, that's what I say every year.

After the demise of Zozobra, the crowds streamed from Ft. Marcy Park down Washington Avenue towards the Plaza for the Queen’s coronation and dancing on the Plaza to the music of the Mariachi Chapala and Santa Fe's own Genoveva Chavez.

In those days, the Queen of the Fiesta was chosen by the Fiesta Council early in the year at the Cinco de Mayo baile. In 1964, Yolanda Pacheco won the crown and was queen all summer. Yolanda was the daughter of Andy Pacheco, by the way, the owner of a popular liquor store on Hickox Street. Don Diego de Vargas for the year was Lauriano Apolonio Moya but everybody knew him better as Larry Moya.

The Conquistadores Ball to honor the newly crowned queen took place at La Fonda and featured Don Lesman and his band. The Conquistadores Ball was always produced by El Club Real --The Royal Club -- with membership made up exclusively of past Fiesta royalty – all former Queens and princesses.

The annual Fiesta melodrama for 1964, as usual, ridiculed, mocked and lampooned local politicians and celebrities. In between the acts, oleos or short musical or comedy acts invited audience participation. That year's "mellerdrammer" (as the New Mexican dubbed it), titled “Infamy at Fort Marcy; or the Secret Locked in the Bosom of the Editor or How to Stop Laughing and Learn to Live with New Mexico Politics” poked fun at the opera, the ski run, turistas and the big anti-pornography drive of 1964.

Incidentally, that drive was organized by Christian Brother Godfrey Reggio, who was then a popular civics teacher at St. Michael’s High School, not yet an internationally known filmmaker. (See, in this regard, the award-winning Koyannisqatsi, released in 1982, a stunningly visual film of technology gone berserk.) In 1964, I was one of dozens of St. Michael's High School students recruited to trudge door to door in Casa Alegre handing out leaflets against smut. Yes, it ruined a perfectly good Saturday for me, but it got Playboy off the shelf at Zook’s Pharmacy.

The Melodrama featured players Jimmy McEachron, Pat Bean, Bruce Vaughn, Betty Armstrong, and Bob and Pat Conoway -- all veterans of the Community Theatre.

The Children’s Parade on Saturday morning was reportedly delightful. First prize went to Mrs. Carla Lopez’ nieces costumed as the three pigs, each piggy winning a prize of $1.50. The Cub Scouts of Den 4 won a prize portraying a band of Indians. A crowd favorite was an entry entitled “Desegregated.” It consisted of little Adrian Fry’s black and white rabbit. It was a reminder of the racial unrest in the nation at the time, in a cute furry sort of way,

Other big winners included "Hawaii," consisting of the entire Chuck Wilkerson clan in leis and grass skirts; the "Circus" entry – a decorated wagon pulled by Martina Guest; John and Frank Wheeler as two barefoot Indians and Joe Baca and his twin burros. All in all, there were 26 winners and all participants got a free ice cream cone served on the lawn of City Hall.

The Historical/Hysterical Parade on Monday was spectacular and, as it turned out, quite controversial. The grand prize winner was the 20-30 Club Float featuring the Fiesta Queen, Yolanda Pacheco. The top musical prize went to the Santa Fe High School Band; Pojoaque’s band came in second. The Children’s category prize was won by Den 4 Cub Scouts, best Spanish entry was the Lily Baca Dance Studio, the Best Indian entry was won by the VFW and the Sociedad Folklorica won the Grand Historical prize for a float demonstrating adobe making.

As usual, there were political floats, 1964 being an election year. There was one on Johnson’s War on Poverty, another on Governor Campbell’s attempts to build a road to Farmington, a float on Goldwater with a big sign that said, “Help Stamp Out Peace - Vote for Goldwater,” and the most crowd-pleasing political float simply displayed a banner that said, “Hell with it, don’t vote for anybody.”

In the most comical category, the winning float was by the St. Michael's High School Alumni Association, titled “Viva el Beatle.” It depicted an actual local rock group, the Sprints, wearing Beatle wigs and gigantic sombreros, wiggling like the Fab Four. Right behind was a red convertible with Candy Johnson twisting to the sounds of the fake Beatles. If you don’t know who Candy Johnson is, you’re not alone. She was not a major star, just a featured dancer in the Frankie and Annette movie, “Bikini Beach.” She was in Santa Fe that week to promote the movie then showing at the Lensic Theater.

The float which caused the most comment and controversy was one which depicted a robed figure wearing a gold bishop’s hat and holding a golf club in one hand and a Zozobra figure in the other, with a sign around his neck, saying “I Burn for Ben.” While, I'm certain the turistas were puzzled by it all, Santa Feans knew exactly what the float meant to say. The robed figure was clearly intended to portray the Archbishop of Santa Fe and the reference to "Ben" could only be Ben Martinez.

At the time, the float drew guffaws from the irreverent and shocked gasps from the faithful. No Fiesta float in Santa Fe history had ever dared to mock the Catholic Church or the Archbishop of Santa Fe. The Santa Fe City Council, at the next meeting, went on record to condemn the float as disgraceful and vulgar and vowed to do something about it. But the City of Santa Fe had no say in the matter; it fell within the exclusive jurisdiction of the Santa Fe Fiesta Council. And thereby hangs a tale.

You see, James Peter Davis, fresh from Archbishop duty in Puerto Rico was appointed ninth Archbishop of Santa Fe in February 1964 and the next day, James Peter Davis, the new Archbishop of Santa Fe, permanently moved his residence to Albuquerque. Santa Feans were shocked and offended. After all, they believed, Santa Fe had been the seat of the holy see since the Conquistadors. Actually, it was only since 1875 when then Bishop Lamy became the first Archbishop of Santa Fe but that’s not important. To add insult to injury, the Archbishop then joined the Albuquerque Country Club. Yes, Santa Fe’s panties were in a bunch on this one.

The Fiesta Council, formed in the 1920's, always included a representative of the Catholic Church, appointed by the Archbishop. In early 1964, that representative was Father Pax Shicker but Father Pax had been re-assigned elsewhere and the Church's Council seat became vacant. New Archbishop Davis appointed Monsignor Rodriguez to replace Shicker on the Fiesta Council but there was resistance to seating Rodriguez, resistance rumored to have been incited by Ben Martinez.

Ben Martinez (sometimes A.B. Martinez) was a former State Police captain and Chief of the Santa Fe Police Department. Almost every major criminal case in the city involved the Chief -- the 1945 Eloise Kennedy sex slaying by a rogue prison inmate, the 1949 Edith Moya stabbing, the 1952 prison riot -- all featured the Chief who was particularly adept at extracting confessions from recalcitrant malfeasants. Martinez was active in the life of the community -- Boys Club, Big Brothers, Knights of Columbus -- but his greatest love, by far, was reserved for the Santa Fe Fiesta. Each year, he helped produced the fiesta, acted as master of ceremonies at various Fiesta events and he always appeared in the Fiesta Parade in costume, waving to the crowds from a colorful two-wheeled carreta. Martinez had been head of the Fiesta Council for about a hundred years or so it seemed. And it was said he ruled with an iron hand.

Like many Santa Feans, Ben had been vocal about the Archbishop's abandonment of Santa Fe for the greens and fairways of Albuquerque. Some say, he saw an opportunity to embarrass the Archbishop by holding the Church's seat on the council hostage by delaying and postponing the vote on the replacement representative.

Timing is everything and Ben Martinez chose the wrong time to stage his sullen protest. The fateful meeting began when Ben Martinez' iron hand was caught in the cookie jar. To everyone's surprise, the Council's Treasurer stood up and complained loudly and, in front of the entire council, that she was required by Council President Ben Martinez to sign blank checks on the Council account. But a look at the canceled checks revealed that more than a few were made out to Mrs. Ben Martinez.

Apparently, that revelation triggered a nasty shouting match among Council members but business came first and the Council took up the matter of the Archbishop's appointment. There was some debate on the motion to seat Monsignor Rodriguez and some comment on the Archbishop's flight to Albuquerque but, eventually the Council honored the Archbishop’s choice and Rodriguez was seated.

Next came a motion to take the books away from President Ben Martinez for an independent audit. The debate was not pretty. Ben defended the blank checks because, sometimes, direct action was required and circumstances couldn't wait for the niceties. (This was, by the way, the same method behind his spectacular success in gaining confessions from criminals.) In the end, Ben maintained, all the money could be honestly accounted for.

The Ben Martinez loyalists stood by him but other Council members were stony faced. They recalled that Mrs. A. B. Martinez, at Ben's demand two years earlier, had been appointed the Council's secretary -- the only paid employee of the Council in its forty year history.

The vote was evenly split between Ben's party and his opponents and, interestingly, it fell to Monsignor Rodriguez to cast the deciding vote. The Monsignor voted against Ben. A.B. Martinez was forced to give up the books. Martinez stood up, red-faced, and walked out of the Council Meeting. The next day, Martinez resigned the presidency and for the rest of 1964, the Fiesta Council operated under acting president Joe Clark.

By the way, the Archbishop never left Santa Fe, at least not technically. By decree, the liturgical center and "cathedra" or chair of the Archbishop of the Archdiocese of Santa Fe to this day remain in Santa Fe. Only the administrative offices of the Archdiocese of Santa Fe were relocated to Albuquerque by Archbishop Davis in 1964. The administration of the Archdiocese of Santa Fe is now conducted from offices located at the Catholic Center on the West Mesa in Albuquerque.

There were no winners in the end. Santa Fe lost an Archbishop, the Archbishop lost the respect of the City and Ben Martinez lost the only position he ever really wanted. Let me amend that statement. There was one Fiesta winner in 1964. That’s the guy who managed to get into the safe at the Palace Restaurant during the Fiesta weekend and make a clean getaway with several bottles of whiskey and about $4,000 in cash.

Que Vive la Fiesta!