Saturday, January 15, 2005

New Mexico standoff

One New Mexican holds off 80 Texans in famous gunfight

Friends and foes alike agreed that Elfego Baca never lacked courage in the face of danger. This praise was not surprising, given his family's history. The Bacas were descendants of nearly every conquistador who had proceeded from Mexico City to New Mexico in Spanish colonial times.

Fiercely proud of their culture and heritage, the Bacas quickly took offense against those who were insolent. This background fostered Elfego's boldness and prepared him well for his Oct. 30-31, 1884, stand-off against approximately 80 well-armed Texas cowboys at Frisco, N.M., south of Reserve.

Elfego Baca was just 19 years old in the fall of 1884. Working for Jose Baca, a relative and prominent merchant in Socorro, Elfego met Socorro County Deputy Sheriff Pedro Saraccino, Jose's brother-in-law. Saraccino wore a large, shiny deputy's badge, an emblem of authority that awed the impressionable teenager.

Elfego and the older man spoke frequently about law and order in Socorro County. It was during these conversations that Saraccino told Elfego about the atrocities being committed against the Mexican people of Frisco, on the far western edge of the county. Texas cowboys, employed on nearby ranches, terrorized the Hispanics on the cowboys' frequent forays into town.

Along with other acts of brutality, the Texans reportedly sat on one Mexican resident and castrated him. The cowboys also used another Frisco resident, Epitacio Martinez, for target practice after he'd protested their brutal behavior. Elfego listened to these stories of abuse with disgust and indignation.

Elfego was particularly upset that Deputy Saraccino described the atrocities at Frisco, but had done nothing to stop them. Elfego declared that Saraccino should have been "ashamed of himself, having the law on his side, to permit the cowboys to do what they did" without consequence.

Saraccino told Elfego that if he thought he could do better as deputy, he was welcome to the job. The exuberant youth replied that, if Saraccino would accompany him to Frisco, he would serve! Elfego quickly secured a deputy sheriff's commission from Socorro County Sheriff Pedro (Pete) Simpson, a lawman Elfego had supported in his recent re-election to office.

Elfego arrived in Frisco to find that the situation had only grown worse. As Elfego rode into town, a rambunctious Texas cowboy from the nearby John B. Slaughter Ranch was raising hell, riding up and down the street and shooting at anything that moved.

Outraged, Elfego asked the local justice of the peace and other residents why they stood by and did nothing. They replied, "If we dare arrest or harm this rapscallion, then the Texas Ranchers in the area, especially those from the Slaughter outfit, will retaliate against us."

Elfego responded, "This is one Mexican the Texas cowboys aren't going to push around." Elfego and a few brave compatriots arrested the drunken Charlie McCarty and held him prisoner at a house in Frisco's Middle Plaza.

There they waited, knowing that retaliation was bound to follow. They did not have long to wait.

Hearing of McCarty's arrest, cowboys at the Slaughter Ranch became furious and vowed to rescue their friend. The Texans rode into town and demanded McCarty's immediate release. The ringleader, known only as Parham, was the Slaughter Ranch foreman.

Parham and his followers engaged in a futile discussion with the steadfast Elfego. With a steely look in his eye, Baca gave the Texans to the count of three to get out or he would open fire. Thinking that Baca was only bluffing, the cowboys refused to budge.

As bullets from Baca's pistol whizzed by them, the Texans discovered that they had sorely miscalculated this young man's resolve. As the cowboys scrambled like cockroaches, one of their horses went crashing down, killing Parham. Another cowboy, Tabe Allen, was shot through the knee during the mad exit.

The Texans quickly realized that reinforcements would be necessary to deal with the crisis at hand. Couriers rode hell-bent to the various Anglo cattle ranches in search of help. By the following morning, an angry mob of cowboys had gathered in Frisco with Jim Cook of the WS Ranch in the lead.

Seething with anger, the bitter Texans had one mission: the quick demise of the stalwart Elfego Baca. Fortifying their courage with rotgut whiskey at Milligan's Saloon, they rode to the house where Elfego held his prisoner.

But first calmer heads prevailed. The cowboys sent a small delegation to talk to Elfego and the local justice of the peace to arrange a speedy trial for McCarty. Both Elfego and the justice agreed that settling the matter peaceably was in the best interest of all involved.

A brief trial was held, and the prisoner was found guilty. McCarty was fined five dollars for his raucous misbehavior. But the Slaughter Ranch cowboys and their allies from other Texas-owned spreads were hardly satisfied. Parham's death was still on their minds.

Elfego tried to diffuse the tense situation with affability, greeting one of the leaders of the Texas mob with a congenial, "Good morning, Mr. Wilson." Hardly pacified, Wilson responded, "Good morning, you dirty Mexican."

Suddenly a shot rang out from among the Texans. Elfego drew his guns and darted through an alley to a small jacal for protection. He quickly noticed a woman and two small boys in the flimsy structure made of thin wooden stakes and plastered with mud.

"Vamos — get out before you're killed," he warned. Terrified, the woman hurried out with her children in tow. They could not have fled soon enough.

The Slaughter outfit, now headed by William Herne, rode to the scene. Herne, filled with disdain for Mexicans, hastily dismounted, grabbing his rifle in a single motion. Drawing near the jacal's door, Herne swore, "I'll get this dirty Mexican out of here." With great bravado, Herne called on Elfego to "Come out of there and damned quick!"

Two shots answered Herne's demand. Herne's friends quickly dragged their fatally wounded leader away. The battle had begun in earnest.

The time was nine in the morning. Alone, Elfego faced about 80 sharpshooters, with little distance separating the opposing camps. The cowboys were about to open fire when Elfego noticed something peculiar about the jacal. Its dirt floor was 12 to 18 inches below ground level. He lay flat on the recessed floor and waited.

A hail of lead tore through the structure. Elfego kept his head low, occasionally looking up and peering through cracks in the jacal's walls. He watched for one of his adversaries to make a mistake. Inevitably. one shooter became careless, exposing his position and forming an easy target. Elfego picked him off rather easily. Then another fell, and another.

But the Texans continued to shoot. Elfego's shelter was disintegrating around him. Elfego responded by resting his Stetson hat on a visible location where the eager Texans directed their fire. The ploy mystified and demoralized the snipers, who continued to suffer casualties.

Noticing a plaster-of-paris reproduction of the saint Mi Señora Santa Ana in a corner of the hut, Elfego prayed as he had never prayed before.

Eventually, one cowboy came up with a plan. Using part of a cast-iron stove to shield himself, the Texan approached Elfego's supposed position. Elfego answered with a remarkable shot that creased the cowboy's scalp, causing the Texan to quickly return to the company of his friends.

Night passed. On the following morning, Oct. 31, smoke rose from the dilapidated jacal. Hungry, Elfego had fixed himself a breakfast of hot coffee and tortillas. The perplexed cowboys shook their heads in disbelief.

But as the fighting resumed, Elfego realized just how desperate his situation had become. It seemed that everything in the hut had been shot through with bullets except for Elfego and, miraculously, the statue of Santa Ana. The jacal's door alone had 367 bullet holes. A broom handle had an additional eight.

None too soon, Deputy Sheriff Frank Rose arrived at the ongoing gun battle. Jim Cook and Francisco Naranjo, a friend of Elfego's, told him that, if he gave himself up, Rose would escort him safely to Socorro to stand trial.

Knowing that this would probably be his best option, Elfego agreed to those terms, but, fearing that a lynch mob awaited him, refused to surrender his guns. He emerged from a small window in the jacal, both pistols in hand. He peered at his adversaries with suspicion.

Cook ordered his cohorts to put down their rifles, assuring them that Elfego would stand trial and undoubtedly be hanged legally. The mob acquiesced by lowering their weapons.

Thirty-three hours after the gun battle had begun, Deputy Rose transported Elfego safely back to Socorro to await trial for the prolonged confrontation. Elfego was tried twice, but was twice acquitted of all charges.

According to an eyewitness at the battle in Frisco, over 4,000 rounds had been fired into the jacal. Later in life, Elfego claimed he had killed four of his assailants and had wounded eight others.

In contrast, Elfego emerged unscathed. To many, he seemed invincible. One of the cowboys who participated in the battle went so far as to declare, "If I took a .45 Colt pistol, aimed it directly at Baca's chest from a distance of a foot away and fired, there would be absolutely no effect."

Over the years, some have wondered why this incredibly brave man is seldom included in the pantheon of Western heroes alongside Davy Crockett, Wyatt Earp, Wild Bill Hickock and a host of other renowned frontiersmen. The answer to this question may well include a sad mixture of disbelief, historical neglect and simple racism.

Baca's omission is especially evident when compared to the fame and attention given to the mostly Anglo defenders of the Alamo in Texas. Texans at the Alamo in 1836 were outnumbered roughly 20-to-1 and their fight against the Mexicans lasted only 90 minutes, ending with the massacre of most defenders. In contrast, Elfego Baca, an Hispanic lawman, was outnumbered 80-to-1 in a fight that lasted 33 hours, yet he had prevailed. Baca's feat was more than a little embarrassing to Anglo observers who deified the Texan martyrs at the Alamo and vilified the Mexican troops under Santa Anna who killed them.

Unfortunately, a great New Mexico frontier hero was short shrifted by the dominant culture of his time. With the exception of three short biographies and a Walt Disney TV movie produced in the 1950s, Elfego's heroism has been largely ignored ever since.

Perhaps if enough historians and others recognize his courageous stand against the oppression of the Hispanic people Elfego Baca will at last receive the recognition he so richly deserves in the annals of New Mexico — and American — history.

Jim Boeck, a historian with a master's degree in American studies, wrote this column on behalf of the Valencia County Historical Society. He lives in Belen.

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