The Road to Amarillo…
Leaving the desert country of Carlsbad Caverns on one of the few occasions when we backtrack on roads previously traveled, the Lunch Box heads back north on Highway 285 through Artesia and on. The desert turns to agriculture just south of Artesia and for the next 40 miles fields of cattle feed and corn line the highway. The Pecos River fades away to the east and the water from artesian wells and irrigation helps the desert bloom. Soon the outskirts of Roswell, New Mexico, begin to straggle along the highway. Roswell is the largest town in eastern New Mexico with a population of approximately 50,000 people. The Spanish expedition of Francisco Coronado passed through the area in 1541 during his search for the fabled “Seven Cities of Gold” (which turned out to be the pueblos of northern New Mexico colored gold under the desert sun.) They did not linger in the desert as there wasn’t much here but heat, sand and brush and they had no idea they were walking over a huge underground water aquifer. John Chisum expanded his cattle empire to include the area in the 1860’s but again lack of water hampered large-scale development and by 1890 there were barely 300 people in Roswell. Then in 1890 Nathan Jaffa got tired of walking for water and decided to drill a well in his backyard. He easily hit water, and the boom was on. Agriculture became the basis of the local economy (which it still is today) and the area grew slowly over the next decades. In the late 1930’s the government was looking for areas with stable weather for rocket development and Roswell was one of the sites selected. Dr. Robert Goddard, “Father of Rocket Exploration” moved to the area and until his death in 1945 lead secret experiments on Walker Air Force Base near Roswell as well as on the previously visited White Sands Missile Range over the mountain in Alamogordo. Today Roswell styles itself the “Dairy Capital of New Mexico” (make of that what you will!), and certainly the odor of “dairy” was in the air at the RV park that I stayed at on the eastern edge of the city. It is also the commercial and financial center for a large area, and several regional oil companies have buildings in the city.
But the defining event of modern Roswellian history happened on July 4, 1947. Something, and the truth seems to be that no one really knows what, crashed into a field northwest of Roswell. A severe thunderstorm rocked the area the evening of July 4 and on the morning of July 5 Mac Brazel and seven year-old Dee Proctor were out on the Foster Ranch assessing the damage when the stumbled across some “metallic looking scrap”. They gathered some of it and continued their rounds. There was no telephone on the ranch and so it was not until the next day that they went into town and showed their find to the sheriff. He turned over the remains to the local military at the Roswell Army Air Field (precursor to Walker Air Force Base). On July 7 the army issued an official press release announcing that the remains of a “flying saucer” had been found northwest of Roswell, collected and sent to “higher authorities”, which lead to headlines in the next day’s newspaper. The following day General Roger Ramey announced that the remains were those of a weather balloon and people were not to panic. And thus, the legend of Roswell and the “cover-up” was born…
Roswell has capitalized on the legend and aliens are everywhere. 7 miles south of the city the first display greets the eye alongside the highway.
Roswell is essentially a “strip” commercial city with most businesses north/south along Highway 285 and cruising the main street shows aliens everywhere.
Even the Wal-Mart gets into the action!
All that is amusing, but the crown jewel of the UFO culture is the International UFO Museum on Main Street. Housed in a converted movie theater, it is the “must see” attraction in Roswell. The people who run the museum are “true believers” who are adamant that a UFO crashed in Roswell and afterwards there was a massive government cover-up which continues to this day. However, their museum has to deal with a significant problem: how can you have a museum dedicated to something that has no documented physical evidence? The answer is simple, you make it up! And so we explore the International UFO Museum…
Since there is no physical evidence, much of the display involved reading. The walls are lined with newspapers from the day, affidavits from people who were allegedly involved in the 1947 incident and cover-up, etc. For example, W. Glenn Davis was working in the Ballard Funeral Home in 1947 when he was allegedly contacted by the military for information on “child-sized” caskets and how to deal with “bodies exposed to the elements.” There are people who say that they saw bodies of “something”, a nurse who said that she participated in an autopsy of the remains of a 3 foot tall “creature”, and so on. Interspersed amongst the words are models of what might have been found.
For way more speculation just Google “Roswell 1947* and wallow in it…, there’s something for everyone! Having survived the aliens the road home continues on Highway 285 north of Roswell.
Shortly after leaving Roswell the benefits of irrigation fade away and the desert returns, though this time there’s more grass and less sand. The land undulates around us, not flat but definitely no hills, with nary a tree to be seen. 45 miles north of Roswell we take the road less travelled and turn right on Highway 20 to Fort Summer. Another 40+ miles roll by when a thin line of green appears on the horizon. The road reaches the Pecos River again and our next destination, Fort Summer. Fort Summer was used from 1863-1868 as another of the tragic scenes of confinement for American Indians. Navajo from northwest New Mexico were forced to trek across the desert to be confined here along the Pecos along with some Mescalero Apache from the nearer Sacramento Mountains. Many died during the long walk and a state park commemorates the event. Unfortunately the day I chose to visit the state park was closed so I got to turn around and continue on my trip to the next destination, Santa Rosa, and fabled Highway 66. A tip from sister-in-law Lauretta leads me here. There’s a cool little car museum that she says is worth the stop. In addition, I had picked up a slick brochure about Santa Rosa somewhere along the way that showed lots of neat pictures of the history of Highway 66 in Santa Rosa as well as remnants of an old town south of the city. Leaving Fort Summer, the road leads north on Highway 84 to Santa Rosa. The 40-odd miles from Fort Summer to Santa Rosa sees us gradually leave the rolling desert and slightly climb into a more broken landscape with a straggly juniper forest. I know that the Pecos River is off to my west, but I can’t see it. Eventually a small cluster of buildings on the horizon indicate that Santa Rosa nears.
First of all, Santa Rosa needs to give whoever wrote the brochure a raise because the brochure does a great job of presenting a frankly, dumpy little town with not a lot to share. This area is going to be another great example of the transition from water to train to interstate that is the story of so many towns of the West. First let’s check out the history at Puerto de Luna.
The legend is that when Coronado continued on through this area his expedition built a bridge across the Pecos River about 10 miles south of present day Santa Rosa. The Pecos no longer meanders across the plains, it now has carved a shallow canyon that is wide enough for small farms on the valley floor. The name “Puerta de Luna” means “Gateway of the Moon”, a name given by the Spanish after seeing the moon rise above the bluffs along the river.
An oasis in the desert, the Pecos River Valley around Puerta de Luna attracted pioneers and by the mid 1880’s the town boasted the county courthouse and a church. Then, as we have seen before, events overtook the town. In 1901 the railroad came to the area but bypassed Puerta de Luna in favor of a new town, Santa Rosa, 10 miles to the north. Santa Rosa became the county seat two years later and the moon set on Puerta de Luna. Today a few disheveled homes surround the ruins of the county courthouse while the church is still actively used by residents of the valley.
Santa Rosa slumbered along the Pecos at the edge of the desert for the next 30 years when the next leap in transportation in the West hit town, the building of legendary Highway 66.
Highway 66 was designed to be the main highway between St. Louis, Missouri, and Los Angeles when construction started in 1926 and for the next 45 years was the lifeline for towns along its’ length. Especially in the West, towns flourished as rest stops for the drivers of the day, with iconic gas stations, restaurants, and motels lining the highway as it made its’ way through towns. In most cases the highway initially skirted the edge of the main streets previously dominated by the train station and became the new “main street”. Today the interstates (in this case I-40) bypass the old main streets and. perhaps because of the climate and the poor economics of these towns, relics of Highway 66 still line the main streets. Some are still in use, most are in a state of decay. Such is the case in Santa Rosa.
However, Lauretta was right and the Highway 66 Car Museum in Santa Rosa was definitely worth the stop. This small museum is a combination museum/sales office as many of the cars are for sale. Bozo and Anna run the business with Anna running the museum/coffee shop and Bozo the mechanic who restores old cars. It was a great little place to visit!
1949 Woodie ($95,000), 1955 Mercury Montclair ($25,500), 1965 Ford Mustang (Not For Sale)
1957 Cadillac (Not For Sale), 1970 Road Runner $38,500), 1947 COE (Not For Sale)
1956 Cadillac ($26,000), 1935 La Salle ($42,000), 1957 Chevy (Not For Sale)
Even the cash register counter in the gift shop/coffee shop utilizes a restored classic!
Highway 66 is overlaid by Interstate 40 as we turn east towards our next destination, Amarillo. At first the landscape continues to be broken but gradually the way flattens as it appears that the highway follows an ancient river bed with bluffs in the distance on both the north and south. This is high desert, very sparsely populated, but about an hour later we come to the last outpost of civilization in eastern New Mexico, Tucumcari.
Tucumcari was established as a work camp by the railroad as it expanded west in 1901 and, being about halfway between Amarillo, Texas, and Albuquerque, New Mexico, became an important rest stop for travelers. The town boomed with the advent of Highway 66 and many gas stations, restaurants and motels lined the highway through town. Again, as the interstate bypassed the main drag, many of the buildings fell into disrepair and/or were re-purposed for other uses. The desert climate preserves the remains and as you drive down old Highway 66 there is a general sense of people living amongst decay. Definitely not a vibrant vibe…
Leaving Tucumcari in our dust, the road continues east on I-40. It’s another 120 miles to Amarillo and the landscape changes dramatically soon after Tucumcari. The land evens out and I am driving through the flattest landscape that I have ever seen. There is nothing in all directions except grasslands, the occasional cluster of trees in the distance that denotes a ranch house, and a lot of blue sky. The road is absolutely flat and straight as I take this picture looking at the grain elevators of the small town of Vega, west of Amarillo.
Next up: Did I take a wrong turn?
Post a Comment