During the mid-19th century, Taosenos were again amid great
tumult. The United States of America was expanding and a
push to spread across the continent helped fuel the Mexican
War. In Taos, locals feared their land would be taken if
the territorial government gained a foothold. When it did,
Territorial Gov. Charles Bent, along with other Americans,
died violently in a short-lived revolt.
If you stand at the entrance to historic Taos Pueblo, look
toward the north. There you'll see the remnants of the old
San Geronimo church that U.S. Cavalry soldiers destroyed
by cannon fire during that 1847 revolt. Actually that was
the second church built at the Pueblo. The first was burned
during the 1680 revolt. Nearby, on the village plaza, is
the third and current church that serves Pueblo residents.
There is a prevalent viewpoint that the conquerors of the
Southwest defeated the Indians and converted them to Christianity.
That, it turns out, is only partially true. Time has shown
that these so-called conquered people now hold, inviolable,
some of the finest land in Taos County. Virtually all of
Taos Mountain that you see from town belongs to the tribe.
As for religion, one only has to observe the annual performance
of ceremonial dances in the plaza, some right in front of
the church, to see that native beliefs were never eradicated.
At some times during the year, even Pueblo boundaries are
closed to outsiders for long periods, so that privacy can
help them focus their ideals.
The 20th century brought another influx of new residents.
Two young artists headed on a painting trip to Mexico found
themselves stranded north of here. Once they arrived in
Taos, Ernest Blumenschein and Bert Phillips discovered for
themselves a place that offered endless possibilities for
creative expression. Before long more artists, writers,
musicians and an increasing number of business people became
attracted to this Northern New Mexican community.
It wasn't necessarily because you could make a living here.
Before paved highways, the easiest way people got around
was by train, but the nearest rail by-passed Taos many miles
to the east. Even a major highway, proposed in the 1960s,
which would have created a major route across the northern
part of the state, never came to fruition.
So Taos has remained slightly isolated, off the beaten
path and yet possessed of a certain mystique.
The land looks a lot different today than it did when Taos
Indians hunted for game along the creeks that flowed down
from the mountains surrounding the valley, before frontiersman
Kit Carson settled down, before arts patroness Mabel Dodge
met and married Tony Luhan, before the Bataan Death March
took so many young Taos men. Before Wal-Mart.
And yet it hasn't changed one bit.
Beneath it all is the same old dirt.
