Trails End: Santa Fe, New Mexico, 1950

Heat. Heat. [Music] land of enchantment and land where Spanish concistadores and priests of 400 years ago went hungering and thirsting. For it was the Spaniards who blazed the first trail across New Mexico to the Indian PBLO of Tik. And near its sight sprang a clutter of old adobe huts, which was later to become known as the village of Santa Fe. Its age-old plaza marks the end of the most famous trail in western history, that of the old Santa Fe. It was the Spaniard's lust for gold, their Padre's eagerness for converts, and their concistador's insatiable curiosity, coupled with their love of danger and adventure, which was later to make the old Santa Fe Trail the continuous living thing that it is today. Theirs was a wonderful but cruel story for the Spaniards were both splendid and terrible. The cross of the martyrs honors the deaths of 21 padres who were as eager for converts as others were for gold. The story of old Santa Fe embodies the truth of two races, condenses the conflicts of two civilizations and predicted the history of the continent for at least 400 years. Each race had its acts upon the stage of Santa Fe, and each race dominated the scenes at the time. Today, it is the Spanish influence which is more dominant. For not only did Spain leave her marks and scars upon the land, but upon the present- day people as well. Spanish is still their mother language, and it is spoken as of your with the 17th century Castellian inflection. The Santa Fe of bygone days was once a royal city of the Spaniards. A fact commemorated now as of then with many an old world fiesta. Probably the best known of all their celebrations is the fiesta to Santa Fe, commemorating the elevation of the whole cross by Hillaral de Vargas after his reconquest of Santa Fe without any bloodshed. An earlier conquest was made by the savage Coronado who was hated and despised by all. The monstrous figure whose ugly head looms up below the Srirachtos or Blood of Christ mountains represents Zoo Zobra and he is old man gloom. Hideous to behold, he is the worries and hardships of the people, the unhappiness and disappointments of the year. All the things that must be dispelled before their fiesta can get into sway. Writhing and groaning, he rolls his huge eyes as the flames envelop his carcass. Dozens of bonfires from below flicker, flare, and lash him. And from above, thousands of firecrackers set off at once. More angry than ever now as the zobra voices his wrath as he roars like a lion and meets his doom. [Music] It is only after the sacrifice of Zobra that Santa Fe can launch into the full spirit of merment for Fiesta. And during this gayla period, old hatreds are forgotten as Indians join together with the Spanish, the bitter enemies of all the red man's ancestors. Devargas and his men in all their helmeted splendor and the Navajo Indian drill team from Albuquerque who took us at Chicago, Omaha, Atlantic City, and even Toronto, Canada. When weary concistadores gave up their goal, the Franciscan priests could always be depended upon to continue the trek alone. Visitors from far and near flock into Santa Fe to attend her most cherished and time-honored pageant. And filling her quaint old winding streets are cowboys from the plains of Texas, gay senoritas with beguiling eyes, along with the colorful and picturesque Indians who hail from New Mexico's remote and far-flung pblos. Near Santa Fe's historical old plaza is the favorite spot for the Indians to exhibit their arts and crafts. Located in the heart of the Indian country, the old Spanish village attracts the numerous tribes. Their choice rendevu is the portal to the palace of the governors. It is here that they display the beauty of their hand loomed rugs and their hand mold pottery too for which the PBlo tribes are noted. New Mexico is a land of many contrasts. It is a strange and ancient land and a land of prehistoric people who built cities of stone that lived and died centuries before the coming of the Spaniards. Their ancestors were the Indians of the great southwest. A people who have changed but little with time. Proud of their forefathers and proud of their race and clan. The loyal and stouthearted Indians have not seeded to white men's traditions, but have clung to their own of the past. During Fiesta Week, one may walk 200 yards to view their dances and step back 1,000 years. For theirs is a pageantry that has been handed down from one generation to another. The Indians with no written history are satisfied to express what they believe in pantomime and the movement of their dances. also fashioned the Indian and not lacking in his intellectual sense. He only interprets things differently. [Music] The red man's physique was made to fit with the harmony of nature. He stems from the very soil of his ancient homeland. And he is inseparable from the earth itself. Out of his carefree mode of living came a great freedom, an intense love of nature and a respect for all of life. Wild creatures to him are held in high esteem. And his animal dances are among the most significant of all the PBlo tribes. They are more than a dance. They are mystery plays as those of ancient Egypt, Greece, and Tibet. From the coat pueblo or the Indians old kotpeti comes this magnificent magic which is a dance of the mountain goats. Tossing their horn beduct heads and stalking about stiff-legged these red men bring to life the spirits of their masks. Moving as a failank of irresistible power and with the tossing of their horns. There is no way of describing the fantastic panamime which is put into their dances. Nor can white man's culture fully appreciate the weird beat of the tomtom, the staccato chants, and the rattle of gourd and tingle of bells which goes for the making of the Indians music. But if one has an ear and a heart in his breast, then surely he must find their music enchanting. [Music] With nature being the altar of this deeply devout people, there are dances too which are a mimicry of the clouds as they are shifted by the winds. Serpentining in a slow and everchanging pattern, these people of copper tone or children of the sun shift to and fro as the drifting of the clouds over the far horizon. All Indians are wise with ancient wisdom and their religion was designed for bringing them happiness. To them birds are the melody makers of the earth and the mountains are monuments to the great spirit or to their anosacei. The clouds are tonneili the watergivers and the winds and rainbows have their meanings too for they are the contacts with that world beyond. And as the echoes of the Archelita's music slowly fades away, the small fry of Santa Fe go in for their share of merrymaking too by Laparada de los Ninños of their own. And while they are parading on one street, the grown-ups on others are creeping along bumperto bumper in their Cadillacs with chauffeers are driving their rattle trap Fords. Tourists in rumpled clothes push their way through teen crowds while Indians stand motionless beneath the shade of adobe walls. Santa Fe is ablaze with much activity and her streets ring with the laughter and songs of many tongues. Everyone is Benvonito and be hemorroy Indian or gringo for three days he is Santa Fe's amigo. For this is the one time of the year when all races join together in happy expression and forget their old hostilities. Basking in the golden sun and mellowed by more than 300 years, the old Spanish city with her newer adobies is still the embodiment of another era. That era of the past when concistadores and priests with dangling crosses first rang up the curtain on that great epic trail which is known as the old Santa Fe and the ancient village of the same euphonious name was located at the trail's end. Always a city of holy faith and early memoir of her hardworking priest is the St. Michael's College for Boys. Her old San Miguel mission dating back to the 15th or 16th century was the cradle of Christianity in America. And with Santa Fe being a picturesque city of oldw world charms with her tranquil and dreamy winding streets. It is also the cosmopolitan home of hundreds of artists and hundreds of writers who inspired by her magic beauty have made it the Greenwich Village of the great southwest. Although a fighter of the Indians, Kit Carson's remains were buried in the Indian PBLO of Talos. Santa Fe's grim and forbidding old territorial prison dates back to the year 1884, and it is the last prison of territorial days which is still in use. Built of dark red brick and standing stark against the sky, its mute and harsh old walls have stood through 78 years of time. Santa Fe is still an outpost of civilization. For even though there's a railroad and a depot, no passenger trains run into the city. One must board a bus for making train connections at the main line, which is 18 mi away from the trails end. [Music]