The General and the Jaguar (47 page)

Then, in 1959, at the urging of state senator Ike Smalley and others, the state of New Mexico decided to create a fifty-acre
park on the west side of the Deming road, which would encompass the ruins of Lieutenant Lucas’s shack, the customhouse, and
Cootes Hill, behind which the raiders had gathered to finalize plans for their attack. Beautiful cactuses were planted. Campgrounds
and walkways were carved out. Relics and photographs of the raid were collected and put on display. When it was finished,
state officials named the park after the man who, in the words of Colonel Slocum, had nearly succeeded in wiping the small
town of Columbus from the map: Pancho Villa. Several years later, his wife, Luz Corral de Villa, was made an honorary citizen
of Columbus—a “Columbusano”—and she donated a field telephone and several other items that had belonged to her late husband
to the local museum.

In June of 1960, soon after the park was established, Maud Wright returned to Columbus with her grown son, Johnnie, and several
friends. She was seventy-two years old and sun and wind and age had left their marks on her face. Johnnie was now a tall and
handsome rancher with a family of his own. Although forty-four years had passed, Maud remembered everything vividly and pointed
out where she had held the horses, where she had seen the signal lights, where she had found Susan Moore. Perhaps more than
anyone else, Maud had succeeded in putting the past behind her. She had never returned to Mexico to retrieve her husband’s
body and he is still buried there. In August of 1917, a year and a half after her ordeal, she remarried and moved to the small
town of Mountainair, New Mexico, where she grew pinto beans until drought made it almost impossible to grow anything. She
had eight more children, five daughters and three sons, one of whom died at birth. Her new husband didn’t like her talking
about the raid so she rarely mentioned it, and when the claims commission sent out notices to people saying they were eligible
for compensation, Maud’s notice was returned as undeliverable. But the harrowing experience was always with her and the walled-off
darkness somehow illuminated her life. She was never troubled by the craving for material things. It was life itself, the
stubborn root of it, always pushing forever upward that she revered and she tried to pass this reverence on to her children.
Like Nicolás Fernández, she never lost her passion for horses. She continued to ride, her body swaying like the vanished prairie
grass. Perhaps, as her horse picked its way down through a hot arroyo or climbed the crumbling slopes of the Manzano Mountains,
she remembered the Mexican soldiers, sitting the choppy trot of their ponies, Mausers slung over their shoulders, and their
leader, so different from the others, with his thick neck and heavy shoulders and brilliant eyes, turned inward and focused
on the rage that would shape his destiny.

A book is often a collaborative effort and I was fortunate to have two wonderful collaborators for this project: Robert Bouilly,
a military historian at the U.S. Army Sergeants Major Academy at Fort Bliss, and Richard Dean, the great-grandson of James
Dean, one of the Columbus shopkeepers killed in the raid, and the current president of the Columbus Historical Society Museum.
We met frequently at Dick and Betty’s home in Columbus, New Mexico, poring through records, maps, and old photos. As the ice
in our glasses melted and the desert heat filled the office, we invariably adjourned across the border to Palomas for food
and entertainment and another look at the towering sculpture of Pancho Villa on horseback. In addition to sharing their knowledge
and rare documents and photographs with me, Bob Bouilly and Dick Dean also read the first draft and made many valuable suggestions.

Martha Skinner, the mayor of Columbus, always had encouraging words and room at her beautiful bed and breakfast. Her husband,
Javier Lozano, a municipal judge and avid reader of Mexican history, accompanied me on a memorable trip into Chihuahua, where
we toured one of the old haciendas belonging to Luis Terrazas, visited several of the still beautiful Mormon towns, and interviewed
a grandson of Lem Spilsbury, the flamboyant guide who fought at the battle of Carrizal.

Several descendants of the raid’s survivors were also extremely helpful. Johnnie Wright, the little boy left behind when Maud
was taken captive, died during the writing of this book. Before he passed away, we spent many afternoons in his Belen, New
Mexico, home talking about the heat of that season’s green chile crop and his indomitable mother. Among the many things he
shared with me were two unpublished accounts of Maud’s captivity and photographs of his mother, including one of her on her
favorite mount, John the Mule, taken when she was in her eighties. Gloria Roach and Rudy Herrera, the grandchildren of Maud’s
captor, Nicolás Fernández, also provided me with photographs, letters, and newspaper clippings about their remarkable grandfather.

I was also fortunate enough to meet several of Herbert Slocum’s descendants while researching the book. Lynn Rivard, a lovely
woman and great-granddaughter who now lives in California, came to Columbus often, bringing baskets of papers that included
letters written by the colonel and newspaper stories that he had clipped and saved. Eileen Slocum, a granddaughter by marriage,
opened her beautiful home in Newport, Rhode Island, to me.

I am indebted to numerous other people as well. Dan Nash reviewed the Spanish portions of the text. Ray Sadler, a professor
emeritus at New Mexico State University, read the first draft and offered valuable criticism. Julie Hutchinson, a graphic
designer, spent many hours preparing the maps, Adrienne Anderson lent technical assistance, and Loydean Thomas offered encouragement
and support. I also received invaluable assistance from librarians and archivists at the New Mexico State Records Center and
Archives, the Columbus Historical Society Museum, the Deming Luna Mimbres Museum, the University of Texas at El Paso, the
University of New Mexico, the Fray Angélico Chávez Library in Santa Fe, and the Library of Congress and National Archives
in Washington, D.C. Especially helpful was the “Gallery of the Open Frontier,” the University of Nebraska’s online photography
collection. The site, which can be found at http://gallery.unl.edu/ gallerytour, contains some twenty-three thousand photographs
depicting important events in the West and can be searched by key words or names. Hundreds of photos of the Punitive Expedition,
scanned in from originals on file at the National Archives, can be viewed at this site.

Jackie Adams, an old family friend in Albuquerque, supplied me with a bed and a hot meal on my long driving trips to and from
the border. Lisa Bankoff, my agent, as always, offered encouragement and a sympathetic ear. At Little, Brown, Geoff Shandler
did a magnificent job of shaping the manuscript and asking insightful questions. Liz Nagle, who has an extraordinary eye for
detail, further improved the manuscript, and Melissa Clemence, a copyeditor, did a brilliant job of culling out the errors
that remained. As always, my deepest debt of gratitude goes to my husband, Jim, who not only read the book and offered helpful
suggestions, but kept our home running while I was away.

Military

Private Thomas F. Butler, twenty-eight,
was shot five times as he accompanied Lieutenant Castleman’s troops into town.

Sergeant Mark A. Dobbs, twenty-four,
served under Lieutenant Lucas and was killed while manning one of the machine guns.

Private Fred A. Griffin, nineteen,
a young sentry, gave the first warning of the attack.

Private Frank T. Kindvall, twenty-seven,
a farrier, was killed while trying to corral the horses.

Sergeant John C. Nievergelt, fifty,
a member of the Thirteenth Cavalry band, was shot as he was leading his family to safety.

Corporal Paul Simon, twenty-six,
a clarinet player, was killed by a bullet that pierced the walls of his barracks.

Private Jesse P. Taylor, twenty-three,
a member of Lieutenant Castleman’s troops, died the following day at Fort Bliss.

Corporal Harry Wiswell, thirty-eight,
was killed on the international line as the Villistas fled back to Mexico.

Civilians in Columbus

James T. Dean, sixty-one,
grocer, was shot and killed when he went downtown to help put out the fires.

Harry A. Davidson,
a member of the Texas National Guard, was shot in the head by raiders who circled the town and were attacking from the east.

Harry Hart, thirty-three,
a veterinarian, was executed at the Commercial Hotel.

Bessie James, nineteen,
was shot twice as she ran from her home with family members toward the Hoover Hotel.

C. C. Miller,
druggist, was killed as he exited the Hoover Hotel, keys in hand, to check on his store.

Charles DeWitt Miller, thirty,
an engineer and overnight guest at the Commercial Hotel, was killed as he raced toward his car.

John Jay Moore, forty-two,
was shot and stabbed at his homestead, Mooreview, as Villistas were fleeing back to Mexico.

William T. Ritchie, fifty-seven,
proprietor of the Commercial Hotel, was executed in front of the building.

John Walton Walker, thirty-nine,
rancher, was dragged from his wife and executed in front of the Commercial Hotel.

Unidentified hotel guest
whose remains were found in the burned rubble of the Commercial Hotel.

Other Civilians

William Nye Corbett,
cowboy, was hanged by Villistas on March 7.

Frank Hayden
was captured in Mexico with his friend Ed Wright and executed as the Villa column moved north.

Henry Arthur McKinney,
ranch foreman of Palomas Land and Cattle Company, was also hanged by Villistas on March 7.

James O’Neal,
camp cook, was shot and trampled to death by Mexican soldiers.

Ed Wright,
husband of Maud, was captured in Mexico and executed as the Villa column moved north.

Wounded (Military)

Corporal Michael Barmazel
suffered a severe neck wound.

Second Lieutenant Clarence C. Benson
was shot in the left forearm.

Private Theodore Katzorke
was shot in both thighs.

Private James Venner
was shot in the right breast and arm.

Captain George Williams’s
right finger was wounded.

Private John C. Yarborough
suffered a severe gunshot wound in the left forearm.

Wounded (Civilians)

Archibald Frost
was shot in front of his hardware store and again in his car while he and his wife and child fled toward Deming.

Milton James
was shot in both legs and the scrotum as he and his wife ran to the Hoover Hotel.

Susan Moore
was shot by raiders who stopped at her homestead.

Susie Parks,
telegraph operator, suffered lacerations from flying glass.

November 20, 1910:
The Mexican Revolution begins.

May 10, 1911:
Federal forces at Ciudad Juárez surrender, leading to the abdication of Porfirio Díaz.

October 1911:
Francisco Madero is elected president.

February 9-22, 1913:
Military coup occurs in Mexico City, which results in the assassination of Francisco Madero and the installation of Victoriano
Huerta as president.

March 4, 1913:
President Woodrow Wilson is sworn into office.

March 6, 1913:
Pancho Villa returns to Mexico and rebuilds his army.

April 21, 1914:
U.S. troops storm Veracruz.

July 15, 1914:
President Huerta resigns and flees to Spain.

August 4, 1914:
World War I begins.

September 23, 1914:
Villa and Venustiano Carranza split.

April 6-15, 1915:
Battles of Celaya.

October 19, 1915:
United States recognizes Carranza as de facto Mexican leader.

November 1-3, 1915:
Battle of Agua Prieta.

January 10, 1916:
Santa Isabel train massacre.

March 1, 1916:
Maud Wright captured.

March 9, 1916:
Columbus, New Mexico, attacked.

March 15, 1916:
Punitive Expedition enters Mexico.

April 12, 1916:
Clash at Parral.

April 27, 1916:
Scott-Obregón conference begins in El Paso.

June 9, 1916:
Juan Sánchez and Francisco Álvarez hung.

June 21, 1916:
Battle of Carrizal.

June 30, 1916:
Taurino García, Eusevio Rentería, Juan Castillo, and José Rangel hanged.

February 5, 1917:
General John Pershing’s troops exit Mexico.

April 6, 1917:
United States declares war on Germany.

April 10, 1919:
Emiliano Zapata assassinated.

May 21, 1920:
Carranza assassinated.

April 30, 1921:
Acquitted Villistas return to Mexico.

1922:
Most troops have departed Columbus.

July 20, 1923:
Villa assassinated.

July 17, 1928:
President Álvaro Obregón assassinated.

July 15, 1948:
Pershing dies.