Copyright 1989 by Jacqueline E. Lawson
All Rights Reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.
Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data:
Lawson, Jacqueline E., 1928-
Cerrillos: yesterday, today, and tomorrow: the story of a won't be ghost town / by Jacqueline E. Lawson.
p. cm.
Bibliography: p.
Includes index.
ISBN: 0-86534-130-3
ISBN: 978-1-61139-101-5 (e-book)
1. Los Cerrillos (N.M.) -- History. I. Title.
F804.L62L38 1989
978-9'56--dc19 -34578
Published in 1989 by SUNSTONE PRESS
Post Office Box 2321
Santa Fe, NM 87504-2321 / USA
PREFACE
It was only a few years ago that I visited Cerrillos, New Mexico, for the first time. But I can still recall my first morning there when I was awakened by the penetrating stillness of unfamiliar surroundings.
My stroll outside that first day was limited to a few yards from the house where I was staying. The next day, however, I decided to brave more of the village. I had arrived in Cerrillos at dusk and therefore was unsure as to what I would encounter during my visit. Attempting to appear casual walking up the road from the house, I tried to ignore the dogs that barked or sauntered up to sniff at the squeak of my new western boots. The camera slung over my shoulder was sure to mark me as a tourist, but I wanted to be prepared for the unusual in my first ghost town visit.
As I walked carefully along the rock-encrusted streets there were no sidewalks a couple of small children peered from behind the protective shelter of a broken fence gate and a tractor part. I felt inquiring eyes peeking from the windows behind fragmented curtains as I made my way up the road: Past rusted automobiles, crumbling adobe walls, partially-hidden frame and adobe structures, wildly-growing brush in what appeared to be front yards, and rough-hewed picket fences, all of which reinforced my feeling that the residents probably wanted to be left alone.
Then I finally came to the main street where I was met with an imposing sight a church whose magnificence seemed to dare one to scoff at its village.
Looking up the street past the church was the scene I had missed the evening of my arrival. Had it not been for a couple of parked cars, I would have thought I was back in the days of the 1800s when "men were men." I almost expected to see a herd of cattle coming down the dusty road ahead, or perhaps a cowboy sitting lazily in the saddle urging his horse to move on.
Passing by the church I went on down the street and must admit relief at the sight of Mary and Leo in their corner bar. There I soon became engaged in a few words of chitchat with a young prospector who invited me to play a game of pool. I had never played pool before, and proved it. Declining an invitation for a second game, I left the bar and went next door to Mitch's What-Not Shop. The vastness of the variety and amount of Mitch's wares was too overwhelming to take in this first day. So after a brief conversation with the owner, I purchased a turquoise ring and left. I retraced my steps past the bar, crossed the street, and saw the "Open" sign in front of what appeared to be a general store which had apparently been closed when I passed it earlier. I went in to buy a pack of cigarettes and was cheerfully greeted by the Simoni sisters who invited me to sit awhile and have a can of beer.
As I was alone and had no car, it was obvious I was staying somewhere in Cerrillos. But no one asked me who I was visiting, or why I was in Cerrillos. They merely made the usual resident-to-visitor small talk with me, and I was soon put at ease. But from almost everyone I spoke with, there was some mention of the past: "You should have seen..."; "Once there was .."; "There used to be .. " I got bits and pieces about the Palace Hotel, Tiffanys, the Opera House, the old school. It was just enough to make me realize that there had been more to Cerrillos than met the eye. I suddenly had the desire to know what used to be behind the crumbling adobe ruins.
I soon found that the libraries had numerous historical articles describing the Los Cerrillos mining district and the original Indian inhabitants. In the few describing the village of Cerrillos, almost each one emphasized its twenty-six saloons and three or four hotels. Rumored exploits of local infamous folks like Black Jack Ketchum, Choctaw Kelly, and Broncho Mary were highlighted in nearly every article I read (although I was never able to substantiate their direct connections with Cerrillos). Some did mention homesteaders of the village of Cerrillos such as the Richard Greens, D.D. Harkness, William Hurt. But suddenly it was as if Cerrillos ceased to exist.
There were a few later articles in local magazines and newspapers by former residents reminiscing their past. Even these dealt with Cerrillos as if it no longer existed a place that had already given up the ghost and was merely a dusty once-was and no-longer-is town. At my first visit, I felt somewhat the same way. But after two or three successive visits within a few months of each other, I began to wonder just how dead was this town. Talking with Mary and Leo at the bar, with Mitch at his What-Not Shop, with the Simoni sisters, and with Fran, the last owner of the Tiffany Saloon, I was impressed by their expressions of hopes of Cerrillos coming back to life and their ideas on how this could come about. So my interest in the past of Cerrillos developed into a search for its future.
My research began in the New Mexico State Archives in Santa Fe. I discovered that there had been booming business houses (in addition to the oft-mentioned saloons); buildings and owners that changed trades from year to year as the need arose; families that prospered and some that died out or just disappeared.
As my return visits to Cerrillos increased, the townsfolk became more used to my camera and my obvious interest in and concern about their town. At first my interviews were limited to casual conversation, lest I frighten them off. Before too long, however, I was being treated like a member of a Cerrillos family. Each time I returned, I was welcomed like a long-lost relative by the three or four households I became close to. Much of my story is theirs.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Anyone can look through history books and old newspaper articles and come up with a few facts, but without the personal input of living persons, facts are nothing more than dull words when put down on paper.
In this light, I wish to express my gratitude to the following individuals for their time, interest and sharing of tidbits and photographs without which this publication could not have taken place: Fran Eckols, Emma Simoni Montoya, Mary (Tappero) and Leo Mora, Joe Sahd, Corinna Simoni, Edith Simoni, Patra Smith, and Julia Vergolio Weeks. They were the suppliers of the "meat" of my story. Through them, I was able to walk down Cerrillos streets of the early 1900s, peer through the windows of buildings long gone, and gossip with school children of the past.
