Highway U.S. 70 from Ruidoso to Roswell is a treasure of a drive, especially in the fall when the cottonwoods, fruit trees and other deciduous vegetation are showing their vibrant yellow, red, orange and rust colors. The landscape is spiked by tall rows of Lombardi poplars outlining property boundaries of small farms and ranches.

It winds alongside the Rio Ruidoso until it meets the Rio Bonito about a third of the way along the route, then the river becomes the Rio Hondo which eventually goes dry most years before feeding into the Rio Pecos below Roswell.

The old two-land highway was very twisty and dangerous to drive, with very flew places where it was straight enough to pass a slower vehicle. Now four lanes most of the way, it passes old haciendas, skirts the tiny and historic old St. Anne’s Episcopal chapel, sweeps by the once grand Tinnie Mercantile store and restaurant and the once infamous White Cat Bar. The towns along the route have memorable names — Glencoe, Hondo, Picacho, San Patricio, Riverside and Tinnie. There’s a turnoff to a ghost town town with what I’ve always thought was one of the prettiest names of any community in the state — Arabela. The town was established in the early 1900s and named by the local postmaster for a Mescalero Apache woman he had become smitten with — Arabela Barela. According to historical sources, Arabela and her two sisters, Damiana and Carolina, ran a local house of ill repute to serve ranch hands and miners in that lonesome outpost on the far eastern tip of the Capitan Mountains.

The road also goes though Peter Hurd country, passing his old ranch home where he painted many scenes of the rounded hills surrounding the deep valley.

On year, on a drive with my parents from Ruidoso to Roswell, we had just left the Hondo valley at the restaurant/gas station at Riverside, where the highway abruptly turns north up a steep incline to reach the flat plains above. As we crested the hill, one of the most memorable things I ever recall seeing was jutting obscenely upright in the bright sunlight above the flat surrounding terrain.

It was a gleaming silver Atlas missile, which had been elevated from its underground silo for a training exercise. At 83 feet tall towering over the treeless high desert, It was a stunningly unexpected sight.

There were 12 of these Atlas missile silos located in eastern Lincoln County and throughout Chaves County, all associated with the former Walker Air Force Base. The New Mexico historical marker below gives a brief description of the silos and their history in that part of our state.

The silos have all been acquired by private interests and some have been turned into underground “airbnb hotels.” Here’s a link to a story about one of them near Roswell:

https://www.krqe.com/news/new-mexico/cold-war-era-missile-silo-in-new-mexico-transformed-into-air-bnb

The silos are about 18 stories deep, and were well equipped for the crew to survive the worst imaginable scenario during a cold war nuclear exchange between Russia and the United States.

What made me think of this was a television commercial I recently viewed in which a UPS or FedEx truck stops to make a delivery in a barren desert landscape with no visible dwelling in the area. The delivery team looks bewildered when suddenly, a manhole cover pops open and a man pokes his head out of an underground silo to announce that this is, indeed, a correct address for the delivery.

I don’t think I’d care to stay in one of these abandoned silos. I’d rather spend the time in a cabin in the mountains watching nature and not thinking about Armageddon.

As you’ve probably guessed from reading my blogs from the past, I have a special appreciation and love for the once endangered Gila trout. Once near the edge of extinction, efforts by government and non profit groups (like Trout Unlimited) have brought this fish back to swim in increasing numbers in waters of the Gila country of southwest New Mexico.

There are many spectacular looking trout in the world, but by far my favorite has always been the brook trout. Although technically not a trout, the fish is considered a char. Both trout and char are members of the larger salmonid family, which includes trout, char and salmon.

The most noticeable difference is the coloring on the fish, which is what I think makes them so gorgeous, especially during spawning season. According to various sources, true trout have a light colored body with dark spots whereas char have a dark body and brightly colored spots. In particular, during the spawning season in the fall, a brook trout’s spots are brilliant red, blue, yellow, with an orange fins tipped with black and white and an orange belly on top of the dark green body. The colors are so bright they almost seem artificial.

Another reason I like brook trout is because they’ve always seemed to be guileless about food when I’ve fished for them. In my experience they seem to strike at anything that vaguely resembles food, where other species of trout often seem more selective.

Although the first trout I caught was a rainbow (likely stocked) on the Rio Ruidoso, the fish I remember being most excited about were tiny brookies on the north fork of Eagle Creek. They seemed eager to take my crudely tied fly and fought like much larger fish when hooked.

Unfortunately I suspect that entire population has been wiped out because of the terrible Little Bear fire in 2012. That fire literally exploded through the narrow Eagle Creek North Fork watershed, leaving a true scorched earth in its aftermath. Later rains flooded the canyon, suffocating any remaining fish in the creek.

I bring all of this up because of a post regarding brook trout that popped up online last week that literally made me laugh out loud.

Although I’ve tied a few fishing flies in the past, I’ve never ventured very far from one pattern that has always caught fish for me. Some fly tyers, however, are always experimenting with new designs in hopes they come up with the next breakthrough in attracting trout.

Recently, some angler on the east coast (where brook trout are prolific) decided to make a fly that looked like a miniature taco — something that never occurs in a trout food chain. After a few refusals, the brookies unexpectedly began taking the fly.

Field and Stream magazine wrote about the guy who invented the “taco fly,” commenting that the brookies in one river “were eating just about everything he threw at them.”

“At first, the fish wanted nothing to do with it,” the article said about the “taco fly.” “A few drifts later, curiosity got the better of them. Turns out brook trout aren’t above questionable food choices either.”

I sent my fly tying friends a photo of the “taco fly,” asking them in jest if they could tie some for me.

One responded: “How about a burrito fly?”

Maybe that will be the next breakthrough in fly tying experiments.

In bouts of extended inactivity and resulting boredom during my time as a same day registration official during the June 2 New Mexico primary election season, I start thinking of things to write about in my blog.

New Mexico critters seemed to come to mind frequently for blog topics and when someone walked into my polling location wearing a “Gila Monster” T-shirt, I thought that might be worth looking into.

And yes, there are some of those poisonous lizards crawling around in far southwestern New Mexico — Grant, Hidalgo and Luna County in particular. An AI source on my search engine estimates there are “a few thousand” of the endangered species (scientific name Heloderma suspectum) in the state.

When I looked up information about Gila monsters, I found a post from 2024 where a hiker in Grant County spotted one and posted it on his Facebook page.

There were comments about the post from several individuals, mostly saying that in all their years of hiking and being outdoors, they had never spotted one in the wild in New Mexico.

“I spent almost 50 year in New Mexico and a lot of that was outdoors and never saw one,” said one person’s comment about Gila monsters.

“What a treat,” said another “I’ve spent over 40 years all over the Southwest desert but have never seen one.”

Gila monsters are pretty hard to find, usually staying out of the sun under rocks or other cover 95 percent of the time. They do have a poisonous bite, but are not aggressive and are very slow moving. The bite is initially very painful, but usually not fatal in healthy adults. Deaths from a bite of this species have been rarely recorded. They are the only venomous lizard in the United States.

Averaging from 10 to 14 inches in length, their beaded skin is actually formed by small bones underlying the bumps. The tough skin is designed to protect the lizard from predators. They only eat three or four meals a year, usually preferring eggs of birds or other lizards. Their thick tails store water and fat, enabling them to go a long time between meals and water breaks.

They are considered an endangered or protected species and state wildlife agencies encourage those who see them to report the sighting. Another interesting fact is that they have long lives, usually at least 20 years in the wild. One in captivity lived 36 years according to a site called “TreeHugger.” There are some more interesting facts about the critters at this website:

https://www.treehugger.com/gila-monster-facts-5117026

In an earlier post I wondered about whether New Mexico State University might consider changing its mascot to the Javelina instead of an Aggie. So what about the NMSU Gila Monsters? Well, the name sounds ferocious but we’re talking about a really slow moving lizard with a fat tail — somehow not conjuring up fear in an opponent’s mind.

About seven years ago, likely on a Sunday morning in the summer, I went out our front door to fetch the daily newspapers that are tossed onto our driveway. It was before I had my one and only cup of coffee for the day, so I was still slowly assimilating full consciousness.

When I heard a clattering sound coming toward me on our paved street, I was startled by the noise, then began searching for the source. Trotting down our street in a mostly urban area was a completely unexpected group of four javelinas — three adults and a juvenile.

In technical terms, a group of javelinas is called a “squadron” and juveniles or babies are called “reds.”

The squadron was running westward on our street at a fairly fast clip, likely scared that they had ventured into an unfamiliar environment and were urgently looking for a less urban area. They seemed not to take any interest in me. As I watched from my driveway, they trotted by just in time for a neighbor across the street to see them and confirm that I had not just imagined this unexpected intrusion. Later in the day, I spoke with a neighbor further west from our home on the same street who confirmed he had seen the animals. He even claimed that they had left snout marks on the front window of his house, which I never checked to confirm (It was too good of a story for me to attempt to debunk.)

Javelinas are common in the American desert Southwest, ranging from Texas to Arizona with a fairly common presence in southern and southwestern New Mexico. They are common in Mexico, Central and South America They’re usually found in arid deserts away from urban areas, so the sighting in our neighborhood was unusual but welcome.

Usually thought to be wild pigs, they are in fact a different species called peccaries. According to various sources, they are highly social and travel in groups of four to up to 20. They have a keen sense of smell but their eyesight is extremely poor. They are generally timid unless backed into a corner and with young in tow and can be rather menacing looking with their long tusks. It’s sometimes believed that when they appear to be charging, it’s only because they don’t see well enough to know they are heading towards a human.

According to an online source, javelinas rely heavily on a musky scent gland on their backs instead of their vision to stay connected. Members of the herd rub against each other’s glands to create a unified group scent, allowing them to easily identify one another. Because of that, they are sometimes called “skunk pigs.” Some countries adopt them as pets, but I suspect it would take a but of adjustment to get used to their smell.

They differ from pigs in several ways. One is that they have four toes on their front feet and only three toes on their hind feet. (only the middle two toes function as hooves.) Pigs have four toes on all four feet.

The mostly nocturnal animals can weight up to 80 pounds and are omnivorous, preferring roots, grasses and grubs — often ripping up gardens on the outskirts of an urban area.

I’m always excited when I see a group of javelinas running through our high deserts because their presence is so unique to our area. I always thought because of that uniqueness they would be great mascot for our New Mexico State University’s athletic teams. Well maybe “Stinking Javelinas” wouldn’t be that much better than “Aggies.”

If you’ve lived in New Mexico for any length of time and are interested in its history, there is a name you should really know. That person — a true treasure of our state — is the late Dr. Myra Ellen Jenkins, former State Historian and knower of all historical facts New Mexican.

I was looking up some information about a former journalistic colleague this week, making sure he was still around and writing his online column. As best as I could tell, Larry Calloway is still around but I think he has stopped writing his column from his home in Crestone, CO, on the eastern edge of the San Luis valley on the slopes of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. While perusing one of his well-written and thoughtful blogs I came across the name of Myra Ellen Jenkins, who frequently helped Larry, me and many others sort through and clarify important historical facts about our state. The discovery of her name in one of his columns triggered an interest in writing about this exceptional person.

Born in Elizabeth, CO, in 1916, she earned her bachelor’s degree and masters degree from the University of Colorado and worked as a teacher in that state before moving to New Mexico. She received her doctorate in 1953 from the University of New Mexico and worked as a free-lance historical researcher until she joined state government with the Museum of New Mexico. In an attempt to preserve the state’s historical documents, the New Mexico Legislature created the State Records and Archives Center in 1960. She first served there as State Archivist and then was later named State Historian. She retired in 1980, earning many accolades for her dedicated work and passion to preserve the state’s history.

She was once named a “Santa Fe Living Treasure.” Other major awards were National Trust Award for Historic Preservation, presented by Lady Bird Johnson in 1974; the Board of Directors’ Award, presented by the Historical Society of New Mexico in 1986; and induction into the New Mexico Women’s Hall of Fame in 1987, by Governor Garrey Carruthers.

Her special historical interests were land grants, water rights and the Pueblo culture.

She wrote or co-authored many books. One that she wrote with Albert H. Schroeder entitled “A Brief History of New Mexico” is considered to be a definitive source on the history of the Land of Enchantment.

A story about her passing from the University of New Mexico noted that “from 1960 until her death, Myra Ellen has been thanked in the preface of nearly every book
published on New Mexico history.”

She had a keen sense of humor and once quipped that many people didn’t “know the difference between an archive and an endive.”

As a journalist, I called her frequently for historical background on stories I was writing for United Press International. She was always available and always quotable. She knew how to say things that would be a perfect quote for a story I was writing.

I recall that I was writing once about this history of Zozobra, the effigy of Old Man Gloom that is burned every Labor Day Weekend in Santa Fe. I called to ask her about any historical background on that event and she promptly offered that there were similar happenings earlier in Spanish Colonial New Mexico.

“People were goofing around in other parts of the state, burning statues to celebrate the passing of some bad event,” she said. “People in Santa Fe had heard about these celebrations and decided to jump on the caretta (the word for a Mexican ox cart instead of “bandwagon”).”

One thing about her that made her a kindred spirit to me was her car. She drove a beautiful fjord blue 1973 BMW 2002tii, long before most people knew what a classic it was. She’s honestly one of the reasons I bought my first BMW — a 1975 2002.

The host platform for my blog, WordPress, has a feature that I’d never considered using until today, when boredom crept in and lured me into trying it.

“It” is an Artificial Intelligence feature that reviews what you’ve written, analyzes the text and makes suggestions for improving what you thought was a carefully crafted post. It can suggest enhancements to what you’ve written, alternative titles and even alternative artwork.

I went back to one of my earlier posts about a low-budget horror movie about sharks ironically filmed recently in our Chihuahuan desert landscape.

I thought about this particular post because of news that the movie, now entitled “Shark Thrash,” will be premiered in Las Cruces on June 6 for no admission charge to those brave enough to see it. I’m hoping to attend when it is shown at the Rio Grande Theater.

My blog about the movie focused on what I thought was the humorous fact that it was filmed NOT NEAR OR IN an ocean, where sharks live. Instead it was filmed in our high desert community where the closest ocean is hundreds of miles away in the Gulf of California or Gulf of Mexico. Some scenes involving water were filmed in nearby Elephant Butte Lake, a fresh water body of water where sharks don’t live. Producers of the movie were proud to say that may of the scary scenes involving sharks in water were artificially created during the post production process.

As one of the producers observed: “… How can you make any shark film in the middle of the desert? It’s amazing what we can do in post certainly, but as long as the actors are there and you have the essentials, you can really make anything work.”

This brought back memories of a 1997 political satire movie entitled “Wag the Dog,” starring Robert De Niro and Dustin Hoffman. Eerily predictive of today’s political scene, the dark comedy depicts the efforts of a United States President to diffuse a sex scandal by creating news coverage of a conjured up war in Albania to divert attention from his misdeeds. The President’s spin doctors create a phony video using archaic post production techniques to steer Americans away from the scandal by showing heart-tugging scenes of an Albanian peasant girl dodging bullets in her quest for safety.

These days, with artificial intelligence, it’s much easier to doctor video and still photos, which crop up frequently in our highly charged political arena.

It also makes me think of “Bruce,” the multi-million dollar mechanical shark that was featured in the original “Jaws” movie. If shot today, Stephen Spielberg would likely just use AI to make those scenes that made us cringe and shriek out loud during the movie.

My blog about the shark movie was entitled: “What’s next? Lawrence of Arabia filmed in Alaska???” I thought that was pretty clever. Here’s what AI suggested I should use for titles:

“Desert Sharks: Movies Filmed In Las Cruces”

“The Aslyum’s New Shark Films: A Desert Adventure” (Asylum is the movie production company)

“Godzilla Shark: A New Low Budget Film Craze” (Godzilla is the name of a super shark that I referenced in the blog)

Somehow, I think AI missed what I thought was humorous about my title.

For some reason, AI had no suggestions about how to improve my writing. I tested that feature on another blog that I had written and AI came up with some suggestions that suggested I take a more academic approach to my writing, again failing to grasp what I thought was a more humorous approach to the subject.

But the final thing proposed by AI was a real gem. I asked it to create some artwork for my blog about a shark movie being filmed in the desert. Here is what it produced:

This image was explained by AI as “A shark filled tornado swirling over a desert town with dark storm clouds, lightning and debris…”

And this image was described as “a massive shark bursting from golden sand dunes under a blazing mid-day sun, as if swimming through the sands…”

The fact that AI could create these images based on what I wrote was pretty funny (and a bit scary) to me. But I don’t think we share the same sense of humor.

A friend and former stockbroker sent me a link earlier this week to story regarding an interesting development on a stock that I didn’t even know was publicly traded.

The story told how the stock price of exotic Italian carmaker Ferrari had tumbled more than five percent when the company announced its first fully electric vehicle, a $640,000 car called the “Luce.” And it’s not even a sports car — it is four-door sedan. But it’s gotten worse. The New York Times reported on Wednesday that the stock of Ferrari is now down eight percent.

The name of the car translates into English as “light” and reportedly was chosen to evoke “clarity and direction” as Ferrari embarks on a new path deviating from its internal combustion roots. Although I thought the vehicle design was rather striking, it looks to me like it could be just be next generation of a Toyota Prius — not a testosterone pumping Ferrari. And it apparently has offended Ferrari afficianados for both the styling and the fact that it doesn’t have a traditional 12 cylinder engine snarling under the hood.

The late Enzo Ferrari, who created the iconic brand in Italy once stated in no uncertain terms that a Ferrari “is a 12-cylinder automobile.” The Dino, a beautiful mass production sports car made from 1966 through 1976 by a division of Ferrari and named after his son Alfredo (nicknamed Dino), had a mid-mounted V6 engine. Because it did not have a 12-cylinder engine, Enzo apparently would not allow it to be called a Ferrari, even though some of his earlier race cars — also carrying the name Dino — had racing bred V6s mounted amidship.

According to one story about the plummet of its stock, Former Ferrari Chairman Luca Cordero di Montezemolo was so upset with the thought of the brand producing an untraditional looking electric vehicle, he told reporters: “I hope they at least remove the Prancing Horse from that car.”

He also added: “If I said what I really think, I’d harm Ferrari.” I suspect the indominable Enzo Ferrari would agree and is now spinning around in his grave at the thought of this new vehicle carrying his name.

A little more about the car. It is said to produce 1035 horsepower from four electric motors and can accelerate to 100 kilometers per hour (62 MPH) in 2.5 seconds. Top speed is estimated at 193 miles per hour. The shape of the car and the interior was done by “LoveFrom” a group comprised of former design stars from Apple. In choosing that team, Ferrari bypassed traditional Italian design gurus (another spin in the grave from Enzo.)

Yet another rotation in the grave for Enzo would be the sound of the vehicle. Many manufacturers now artificially introduce the sound of the engine into a car interior as it accelerates rapidly. Our new SUV does that through a feature the manufacturer calls “iconic sound.” I like it sometimes, but it seems a bit silly at other times when you know your ear is being tricked by a computer to make you think you’re driving a car with a racing engine when it’s just being motivated by a modest four cylinder. (I think there’s a way to reduce the artificial engine volume level If you flip through enough pages on the cumbersome touch screen, but I haven’t had the patience yet to do so.) So you’d think the Luce designers naturally would have wanted to have that mesmerizing and exotic sound of a Ferrari V12 piped into the cockpit. Not so. They chose instead to capture the mechanical sound produced by the car’s rear axle. They even patented it. (Maybe two spins for Enzo on that one.)

When you think of a Ferrari, the image of a grand touring vehicle snaking through hundreds of miles of scenic Tuscan hills comes to mind. With the Luce and its 280-mile range, you could barely make it from Las Cruces to Albuquerque on a mostly straight four-lane. Another twirl for Enzo.

When summing up the potential appeal of the car, Car and Driver magazine noted that “Even in today’s superheated market for ultra-high-end exotics, demand for electrics appears uncertain at best.” It noted that Italian supercar rival Lamborghini recently dropped plans for an electric variant.

Summing up their article, Road and Track quoted Ferrari Executive Chairman John Elkann saying “We are expanding what Ferrari can be, not losing what Ferrari is.”

Car and Driver concluded “We shall see whether the Ferraristi agree.”

And as I always do, I try to make a connection with my posts to anything New Mexico related. So how does Ferrari connect with the Land of Enchantment?

Almost a year and one-half ago, I wrote a story about how many exotic vehicles are registered in New Mexico. There are more than I thought. (But apparently not as many as there are in Montana, where a lack of sales taxes onpurchased vehicles has encouraged many multi-millionaires to register their high-priced exotics there — but that’s a story for another time.)

As for Ferraris in New Mexico, there were 565 registered in the state as of December 2024. And to my surprise, there were two registered in Catron County, where the vehicle of choice is likely to be a Ford F-250. As I said in that post, driving through downtown Reserve in your bright red Ferrari Testarossa would definitely go against the grain of a conservative county known for its desire to stay off the grid.

And thanks to my friend for sending me the article. I always appreciate comments from my readers and for giving me fodder for what might turn into a new post.

The New Mexico primary election is Tuesday, June 2, 2026 and I’m working again as a volunteer election official for the early voting phase, as well as on election day.

It’s been pretty slow so far, with only a handful of races being contested. The biggest focus statewide is on the governor’s race, with multiple candidates from both Republicans and Democrats vying for the their party’s nomination for the fall general election. There also are a few contested races locally that are generating a lot of yard signs.

I’m doing the same day registration job during the early voting phase for about two weeks before the election. I’ll do that again on election day and also serve as a “machine judge” on June 2.

The top official at our polling place is the “Presiding Judge.” That seems pretty self explanatory. He or she is the head person at the polling location. Two of the other workers here are categorized as simply “judges” who are called in to work with the presiding judge to help resolve any dispute or challenge about a voter’s ballot. The rest of the workers are simply called election “clerks.”

So what is my job as a “machine judge?” It sounded fairly important in my mind when I was offered the post about four years ago for my first election. I kind of fancied myself as the No. 2 person in the pecking order of the polling location, but I don’t think that’s exactly correct. (Nevertheless, I’m going to try to foster that impression, mostly to stroke my own ego. :”^)

I went online to search for “election machine judge” and did not find anything to help clarify the matter. The search seemed to try to turn the question into whether humans judge machines — which of course we all do when they perform well or in the alternative, spectacularly malfunction.

Artificial Intelligence on my search engine produced this suggestion:

A “machine judge” can refer to an AI evaluator in machine learning (where one large language model assesses another), automated voting equipment, or the broader theoretical concept of using predictive algorithms and AI software to assist or replace human judges in legal and administrative decisions.

We do have automated voting equipment (voting machines) at our polls, but they only capture data from ballots filled out by voters. It does not do any automated voting by itself.

The only machine that I have regular interaction with is the small laptop computer which captures same day registration data from a potential voter and then sends it to the County Bureau of Elections or the Secretary of State’s office for processing and verification.

I did not find evidence of the term “machine judge” being used in other voting jurisdictions, so I decided to ask our very competent and professional head of the Dona Ana County Bureau of Elections, Karen Hernandez, why the term was used.

She said the term was used in this jurisdiction before she assumed her current position, so it has been retained. Since the “machine judge” transports secured data captured on special electronic devices (similar to flash drives) from the voting “machines” directly to the election warehouse immediately after the polls close, the term implies that the holder of the position is a courier of voting “machine” data. I also transport other things to the warehouse immediately after the polls close, like spoiled ballots, provisional ballots an unofficial printed tape signed by all workers at the poll and other documents. The purpose of my job is to help get election results posted as soon as possible after polls close. I’m not really a “judge” of anything.

Karen said she had been considering whether to change the title. I said I preferred it be kept because “machine judge” sounds more important than just “courier” and in my mind hints at being a bit mysterious.

“Okay, you can be a machine judge,” she confirmed.

On a recent drive across the southern tip of the Black Range northwest of Las Cruces, we stopped by the cemetery in Hillsboro to find the grave of a former Episcopal priest and his wife who we knew were buried there.

As we often do when we visit older sections of cemeteries, we look for familiar names or historical details recorded on the grave markers. A few years ago, we toured the Cedarvale Cemetery outside the Lincoln County ghost town of White Oaks and found a gold mine of historical information.

In that cemetery, there were graves of several individuals who played a role in the infamous Lincoln County War of the 1880s. Among them was Deputy Sheriff James W. Bell, who was shot and killed by notorious outlaw Billy the Kid in a daring escape from the Lincoln County Jail on April 28, 1881. Also buried there was Susan McSween, known at one time as the “Cattle Queen of New Mexico.” She was the widow of Alexander McSween of the Tunstall-McSween merchant group, who was gunned down by members of the rival Murphy-Dolan group in an event that lit the fuse for the Lincoln County War. Another grave we found was that of the first governor of the State of New Mexico, William C. McDonald, who died six years after the state was added to the union.

Back in Hillsboro, we found the graves of the Episcopal priest and his wife, who was herself a Quaker minister — a fact which we had never known. We looked around for gravestones of other interesting individuals and my wife discovered this interesting one.

Born in 1827, Johnson had a full life until his death at 57 in 1884. The gravestone notes that he was a “mine owner, manufacturer, builder, merchant, Civil War officer, Legislator NM 1871, gunfighter.”

Having seen this gravestone, I became intrigued by Johnson and his story. I looked him up online and found an interesting entry online written by a great grandson, Gilbert J Flores.

Flores’ recollections of his great grandfather included a mention of Johnson’s shooting death in Hillsboro appearing in a Feb. 29, 1884, obituary published in the Silver City Enterprise.

“The story in the “Enterprise” depicted a justified ending of life to a ruthless killer,” said Flores. “To the contrary, our research revealed the history of a man whose life was full of accomplishments and rewards.”

Flores learned Johnson was born in Richmond, VA, in 1827. Records of his early life in the Richmond area were apparently destroyed during the bombardment of Richmond during the Civil War. The next record of Johnson found him as a crew member on board a steamboat on the Mississippi river operating out of St. Louis in 1850.

According to Flores’ account, Johnson arrived in New Mexico in the early 1850s, married a local woman in 1853 and had “some success” in finding gold in the hills of the southern part of the state. An 1860 census report showed him living in a community called “El Manzano” in what is now Valencia County. Later that year, he joined a group known as the “Jose Francisco Chaves Company of the New Mexico Mounted Volunteers” whose purpose was to protect settlers from raids by Native Americans in the region.

The next year, he enlisted with the Union Army in Albuquerque and served as a First Lieutenant in the 2nd Regiment of New Mexico Volunteers under Col. Kit Carson. He apparently was involved in the battle of Glorieta Pass, east of Santa Fe, against the Confederate Army on March 28, 1862. He mustered out of the Army in Santa Fe later that year and returned to mining activity in the southern part of the state. His first wife died, leaving him to raise their three children. He later remarried a woman from Mexico living in Las Cruces.

Most of his mining activity was centered around Silver City. His mining claims included such names as “Esperanza,” “Species Basis Number One,” “Grangiabird” and “La Providencia.” His “La Providencia” mine was said to be a major producer of silver.

In 1871, he was elected as a Democrat to a term in the New Mexico Territorial Legislature. At one point he served in an unusual position as co-Speaker of the House of Representatives because of a political tiff between the Democrats and the Republicans.

According to Johnson’s great grandson, one of his other endeavors, that of a manufacturer of bricks, tiles and adobes, earned him his nickname “Adobe.” He built what was said to be the largest house in Silver City in 1873 but returned to his passion for mining in Hillsboro in 1881 after reports of new discoveries of silver and gold in the area. He opened a store there to serve the booming mining town. Newspapers reported that Johnson was involved in several disputes that ended with guns being fired, some resulting in the death of the other party. Flores said that Johnson was cleared of all of those deaths because the shooting was considered an act of “self defense.”

A dispute with a neighbor involving and unpaid bill and an argument over a property line on a mining claim led to Johnson’s fatal shooting in February of 1884.

Flores concluded his story about Johnson with the following:

“The J.R, Johnson story is far from complete.

His accomplishments were varied and his activities portray a man of ambition and courage. His skills as a miner, soldier, politician were many. He believed in his rights and was forced to use his gun to defend his property and honor. The fact that he killed a number of men in self defense indicated he had the courage to pursue his goals. He had been subjected to numerous claim jumpers, marauding native tribes and thieves. He took their lives to make a better place for his family.”

I leave you to draw your own conclusions about this interesting character in New Mexico history.

Twice in the past month, I’ve driven along New Mexico highway 61 between Deming and San Lorenzo on the way to Lake Roberts. It’s a seldom traveled route worthy of a detour if you’ve ever looking for a slightly longer and more scenic drive to Silver City from Las Cruces.

The road wanders along the Mimbres River valley, passing through a rapidly changing southwestern landscape with fascinating rock structures, groves of cottonwoods, hills dotted with pinon and juniper, and eventually leading to ponderosa pine forests as you approach Lake Roberts.

On my last two trips, I stopped to photograph an old homestead in the village of San Juan that in my mind was once probably one of the finest residences in the Mimbres Valley. I am sure most people driving along New Mexico 61 just zip by the house and don’t register it as anything more than just a ramshackle adobe home from a past era.

It caught my eye because I think it exhibits what is classic northern New Mexico territorial style architecture.

If you search “New Mexico territorial style architecture,” structures fitting that description usually include the following elements: The walls are traditional adobe, but with white-trimmed Greek Revival arches over the windows and doors, formal porches with square (instead of rounded) posts and rows of red bricks along the top of the walls. Homes of this genre in the most northern reaches of New Mexico often had pitched corrugated tin roofs to shed more frequent snow and heavier rains. The bricks along the tops of the walls on flat-roofed homes were added to help stabilize the adobe walls and keep them from melting away in the region’s monsoon rains.

The “New Mexico Territorial” design was introduced New Mexico beginning in the 1800s by Americans who lamented the lack of architectural detail they had come to expect in homes and other buildings in the eastern United States. As one early American general observed, cities in northern New Mexico were nothing but a collection of “a few mud huts.” A U.S. Dragoon, William Bennett, described the town of Las Vegas as “a great pile of unbaked brick” adding, “Upon closer inspection everything about the town was dirty and filthy… [with] miserable dirty streets [that] all look alike.” And, as U.S. soldier Frank Edwards described his first visit to the village of Mora:  “nothing could be more discouraging to me… than the first view of this town.”

The wooden trim for the windows, doors and porches was not immediately available in New Mexico in the time period when American first began arriving in the early 1800s. Gen. Stephen Watts Kearny, who was assigned to New Mexico in 1846 to lead American troops in the Mexican-American war, apparently agreed with the dearth of architectural detail in the region. A search about New Mexico Territorial style said the general himself ordered machinery to establish a mill to cut wood to allow addition of Greek Revival elements to enhance the appearance of the “mud huts” so prevalent in the state.

New Mexico Territorial style is different than the Pueblo Revival architecture that was introduced by famed New Mexico architect John Gaw Meem in the 1920s and 1930s. That style featured multi levels, more rounded walls and protruding round vigas similar to those features found in New Mexico’s historic pueblos.

It was clear to me that the home along the Mimbres Valley in the village of San Juan was carefully designed and constructed by its proud owner. The windows all exhibited the Greek Revival arches and the tin roof included two dormers that would not have appeared on an ordinary “mud hut.” The yard was once fenced in and landscaped, from what I could observe. I was not able to see the west side of the home, where I suspect there was a porch and entrance that welcomed residents of the home and visitors.

As I said earlier, I suspect it was one of the finest homes in this remote part of southwestern New Mexico. I wonder what stories this old home could tell about its occupants. So if you’re driving on New Mexico 61 some day in the future, stop in San Juan and take a look at the old homestead, then ponder what stories it might tell.

Many years ago a friend and kindred spirit in the admiration of all things BMW had acquired a non-USA certified version of a 1977 BMW 320i. It was actually a 320 (the “i” which was missing from the model identification designated fuel injection, which this car did not have. Instead, it had a hot Weber carburetor setup.)

The car also did not have many emission controls, safety barriers in doors and other weight inducing safety and compliance additions, which made it very lightweight, very fast and nimble on curves.

My friend announced that he was going to “test the limits of adhesion” with that car on the twisty and challenging Emory Pass road on New Mexico highway 152 between Hillsborough and San Lorenzo through the southern tip of the Black Range.

My friend and the car (which was imported illegally from South America to Austin, TX,) survived what I’m sure was a thrilling and harrowing drive along the route, complete with multiple hairpin turns, switchbacks, blind corners and occasional wildlife suddenly wandering across the road.

(Ironically, I ended up owning that car which my daughter drove all through high school and college. It served us well until the engine threw a rod going over “The Grapevine” or Tejon Pass on Interstate 5 north of Los Angeles on a return trip to Las Cruces right after she graduated from college. But that’s another story for another time.)

Anyway, my post today is not about cars but about that section of road in southwestern New Mexico which is worth a drive.

I had not been on the road since my children were very young. My wife and I (and faithful dog Chester) decided to take a trip along NM 152 this weekend, traveling slowly in our pickup truck to appreciate all the sights rather than zipping along the highway in a BMW to “test the limits of adhesion.” We discovered that many of the forests along the route had been scorched by multiple wildfires, but there are still many stands of trees still there and other vegetation is making a strong comeback.

Emory Pass tops out at almost 8,200 feet, with pine, fir and spruce trees covering the steep canyons where past fires have not burned. Spectacular rock formations appear all along the route and there is a great view from the top of the pass to the east to the Rio Grande Valley and the west to more Gila wilderness.

As I mentioned, multiple wildfires have wiped out sections of forest in recent years, the worst of which was the 2013 “Silver Fire” which affected much of the southern tip of the Black Range.

Whether you choose to zip through the Black Range in a fast car or chose a more leisurely drive in a lumbering pickup, the drive along New Mexico 152 is well worth it. Our drive took a little over four hours. You can picnic at several campsite along the route, or stop for lunch at the Hillsboro General Store Cafe (one of our long-time favorites), either way the drive is worth the time.