Injun Trouble

We were on our way back from Cochiti with Palmer driving one of his vintage Cadillac convertibles.  He had settled on acquiring used Cadillacs and Corvettes as an investment strategy and now had about a dozen.  He scanned the local papers every weekend looking for old cars.  He bought the property next door primarily for the large back yard where he had installed a lengthy car port for his collection.

Palmer had found several one-owner, low-mileage Cadillacs put up for sale by widows who had long since given up driving.  The cars often had been sitting idle in a garage for years and the elderly owners were usually unaware of the car’s value.  If it was a convertible it was an added bonus since Cadillac had stopped making them in 1976.  The Cadillacs were quite a sight - massive compared to the cars of today with a vast expanse of all-leather interior and ludicrous tail fins. 

                                                    Photo from gittigidiyor.com

The Corvettes were usually sold by someone whose original impulse for something flashy had been replaced by a desperate need for cash.  Palmer figured the same twenty-something sellers who were in a poor bargaining position now would take another financial beating when they wanted to buy it back during a mid-life crises.  The cars were usually in great condition due to New Mexico’s arid climate.

A half hour from Cochiti we came to Interstate 25 that runs from Albuquerque to Santa Fe.  We started south back towards Palmer’s place but soon Palmer was pulling off to the side of the road at what looked to be an abandoned group of three one-story buildings.  There was a weathered sign that sat on the ground leaning against a wall that read “Budaghers”.  The windows and doorways had been boarded up but the northern most building had an open entrance.     Inside was a bar that was last remaining piece of the property that was still in business.  The place was started by Joseph and Sally Budagher and was a popular trading post in the 1950s offering Pueblo Indian goods to tourists on their way to Santa Fe.  After the freeway was put in, people no longer pulled off for gas, rugs or pottery and that part of the enterprise ended.

The inside of the bar was pretty disheveled with a borrowed railroad tie standing in the middle of room holding up a drooping ceiling.  I was surprised to see a group of young pueblo braves seated around the pool table drinking Tecate since I hadn’t noticed any cars parked outside.  We were pretty much in the middle of nowhere and I was puzzled as to how they got here.  The bartender, also Native American, asked us what we were going to have.  This struck me as humorous because the only thing visible behind the bar was a mammoth cooler that held nothing but cans of Tecate.  The interior of the cooler was brightly lit and the floor-to-ceiling space behind the glass front was crammed to the gills with Tecate and nothing but Tecate.

Palmer said, “I’ll have a vodka gimlet.” 

It was moments like this that reminded me how often I regretted having anything to do with Palmer.  I had seen the 1965 movie The Naked Prey with Cornel Wilde and I knew what to expect.  Palmer and I would be stripped down to loin cloths while one of the braves launched an arrow to a spot several hundred yards away.  We would be allowed a running head start to where the arrow landed before the war party gave chase.  I knew I could out run Palmer but I was afraid that once they got a hold of him he would inform them of the fact that my mother’s family was from Spain.  Much to my relief the war party and the bartender found the gimlet order entertaining.  Always anxious to press his luck, Palmer was soon behind the bar helping the bartender improvise a vodka gimlet.  They managed to find a small flask of vodka and enough limes to come pretty close.

We were back on I25 headed to Albuquerque when Palmer pulled off again, this time to check out the museum at the San Felipe Pueblo.  Besides being the only Anglos anywhere on the pueblo grounds we were also the only visitors at the small museum where we spent an hour looking at artifacts and crafts.  It was a scorcher of an afternoon and I was frustrated to find the one and only drinking fountain in the museum to be out of order.  I pointed out the problem to the curator who was an older tribesperson.  He explained that he had called in to the Bureau of Indian Affairs southwestern regional office several months ago and was still waiting for them to send someone out to fix it.  There it was in a nutshell.  The DNA of Native Americans was no match for the government bureaucracy and the water fountain’s future looked as bleak as the dreadful living conditions at the pueblos and reservations.  This was indeed the case until the Indians discovered they had the politicians by the short hairs and started throwing up casinos. 

There are 19 recognized pueblos in New Mexico with a combined population of 35,000.  In the 16^th century the Spanish were the first to name the native communities “pueblos”.   They found the natives living in apartment-house villages with a central courtyard and the term meaning “towns” seemed appropriate.  The ride I took with Palmer was in the late 1980s, a decade or more before any of today’s 25 tribal-owned casinos existed.  The casinos have brought new jobs, schools, roads, housing, youth and senior centers but it’s a change not all pueblos are willing to undertake.  The Pueblos with casinos have benefited economically but have also lost a great deal in traditional language, culture and ceremony.

The Cochiti Pueblo where Palmer and I had played golf earlier that day was one of the pueblos that weren’t willing to sacrifice any of their heritage for the economic benefits derived from a casino.  The majority of the Cochiti Pueblo youth are fluent in their native Towa.  The Cochiti Pueblo covers 26,000 acres that includes an abundance of earthly marvels that inspire deep respect for the natural world.

                                                    Photo from griseslifeofleisure.com

Like other pueblos at a distance from the interstate, in addition to golf the main sources of revenue are limited to the sale of tribal goods such as rugs and pottery.  Cochiti like most pueblos allow visitors to attend feast days and ceremonies via permit but cell phones are not permitted on the grounds.  All forms of audio and photographic recording are prohibited and there are posted notices stating that anyone shooting video will have their equipment “publicly destroyed.”  A Casino is not in Cochiti’s future.  The Cochiti Tribal Council is determined to preserve the land, air and water which are seen as the lifeline of their traditions and culture.  They are firm in their resolve to resist any environmental incursion onto their ancestral homeland that would pose a threat to hunting, farming, fishing and maintaining cultural tradition.

The Santa Ana Pueblo is forty miles south of Cochiti and just as far removed from the interstate as Cochiti, but Santa Ana operates its own casino.  The median annual income for Santa Ana Pueblo households is over 60% higher than the median annual income for households in the Cochiti Pueblo.  Two months ago, 27-year-old Marcellino Chalan of Cochiti Pueblo was arrested for robbing the Wells Fargo Bank in the neighboring City of Rio Rancho and now faces the possibility of spending the next 20 years in a prison cell.  Three of Marcellino’s family members are featured on the Cochiti Pueblo website for their pottery, drum making and story telling.