Sierra Vista: Young City with a Past

By Ethel Jackson Price

The story of Sierra Vista, Arizona begins with Coronado's explorations of the southwestern desert in the sixteenth century, long before the 1877 establishment of Camp Huachuca, home of the famed 24th Infantry "Buffalo Soldiers." Sierra Vista grew up in the fury of the silver and copper mining days surrounded by three stunning mountains and the San Perdro River. Once known as Fry, this frontier town bloomed from a virtually unpopulated settlement into the Hummingbird Capital of the World.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Arcadia Publishing
• Release date: Oct 22, 2003
• ISBN: 9781439630570

Ethel Jackson Price

Local historian and writer Ethel Jackson Price has gathered a fascinating collection of images from both military and museum archives to tell this landmark�s singular story. Also the author of community histories of Bisbee and Sierra Vista, Price effectively presents readers with the trials and the accomplishments, the hardships and the pride of the men and women who dedicated themselves to the service of their country and created the unique legacy of Fort Huachuca.

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INTRODUCTION

Silver. Gold. Copper. Cows. Strangely, considering that we have no mines or smelters in Sierra Vista proper, these things are why we’re in this particular corner of Cochise County. Ranches are not in the city, but they’re very close by. There are caves nearby, of course, including one with a story as wild as that of The Lost Dutchman Mine you will read later, but mines, both famous and infamous, and smelters, etc.? They’ve never existed here, only in locations that probably qualify (using today’s standards) as nearby. Still, Tombstone silver, Bisbee copper, and a smattering of gold here and there have a lot to do with this community’s history. So does cattle. In the late nineteenth century, this was ranchland with a few small settlements here and there. Cattle means ranches; ranches need cowboys; cowboys often begin a family; families require support services; those providing the services often become a community; communities grow. (For instance, Sierra Vista’s population once increased by more than 10,000 overnight—due to an event that had nothing to do with mining or ranching!)

Unincorporated until 1956, this city is, comparatively speaking, young, but its very youth is quite a plus. Its people are mostly energetic and ambitious with a vision of the city’s future. Has it been a struggle? Sometimes. There are always a few who want things to stay the way they’ve always been, not realizing that things either go forward or back but never stay the same. Fortunately, city fathers persevered; they’ve hauled Sierra Vista—often kicking and screaming—right straight into the twenty-first century.

It’s actually quite fitting that Sierra Vista is in Arizona; after all, Arizona—the last of the 48 contiguous states—is somewhat of an upstart itself, less than 100 years old as a state. That doesn’t mean the area was non-existent, or even uninhabited, before it was the State of Arizona. Unfortunately, there are learned people who claim Sierra Vista has little history, no cultural resources, and no real background. Not so! It all depends on how one defines history, culture, and background.

Seemingly tucked neatly away, surrounded and protected by several mountain ranges, the city is separate from the more familiar Santa Cruz corridor. Many historians would have you believe that the whole of Arizona’s essence is tied especially to the Santa Cruz riverbank, but it isn’t. This particular corner survived the Spanish conquerors’ often cruel search for gold and much of their (sometimes equally as cruel) religious colonization. It lasted through the Indian Wars (a horrible tragedy for both sides), at least one incredibly devastating earthquake, and some forest fires. Today, it’s dealing with a highly controversial situation little understood in other parts of the country: the nearly overwhelming influx of illegal immigrants. Still, this corner of Arizona—where a nearby community calls itself the town too tough to die—survives. It will continue to survive.

Perhaps one thing affecting Sierra Vista’s perceived history is that early maps, depending on their purpose, often show different territorial lines. One small spot could be labeled several different ways. The fact is, Sierra Vista is truly a border town close to the U.S. international border with Mexico. Our thrice-changed county line (another border) is now located just west of Fort Huachuca, a military reservation standing between the city and the next county line. In addition to all that, Sierra Vista is located barely 7 miles west of the San Pedro River, where, according to older maps, Pimeria Alta and Apacheria are said to meet. Looking at other maps and drawing intersecting lines, one finds that Cochise County is obviously right square in the middle of Apacheria. Yes, in today’s parlance, such a place might be called No Man’s Land.

The fact is, early explorers’ obsession with lines of demarcation often meant they claimed territory based on landmarks, such as everything between the San Pedro River and the Santa Cruz River. Therefore, simply because a couple of Spanish explorers made separate trips on two different rivers, old maps show the exact spot where downtown Sierra Vista now exists as being within Pimeria Alta. Practically speaking, it isn’t, although one could ask Where are we? or Who are we? You see, this southwest corner of Cochise Country was, in addition to being the home of more than one Indian nation, once part of Sonora, Mexico. Later, it was part of New Mexico, then one of Arizona Territory’s four original counties. Another time, it was no less than an official part of the Confederacy, subject to the Stars and Bars by presidential decree.

This old tree by San Pedro House, right next to the San Pedro River that forms the western border of Apacheria, is about 7 miles from Sierra Vista. The visitor remains unidentified. (Courtesy of Brendan Earle.)

All that is mere background, things that happened before Sierra Vista existed. The city began its own life as two homesteads outside the perimeters of an army post, homesteads that grew into a stringtown and absorbed other small communities. Before incorporation, this community went through several name changes. I’ve discovered eight names, including one that’s quite literally colorful. The name Fry (not spelled with an ‘e’, as some historians would have it) was considered at the time of incorporation. Sadly, a local joke about why Fry was not selected is often repeated as gospel truth. Records will finally be set straight herein, and we’ll meet the Sierra Vistan who caused the city to bear its official name. And we’ll learn how her action affected city boundaries.

Today, the nearby military post has a substantial economic impact on the city, but Sierra Vista has survived its two closures. Having done so, the city enjoys a uniquely symbiotic relationship with Fort Huachuca where a portion of the original construction has become historically significant. The site of numerous archeological digs and more, the post remains an active, working facility, while others created during the Apache Wars were abandoned long, long ago.

A number of civilians are employed at the post. It’s a trade. Fort Huachuca’s soldiers, many of whom today live and shop in Sierra Vista, have gone from itchy wool uniforms in Cavalry-blue to lightweight, appropriately-mottled Battle Dress Uniforms (BDUs), from heliographs to state-of-the-art computer technology, from riding horses to driving Humvees. And its soldiers, men and women, continue marching alongside Sierra Vista straight into and through the twenty-first century, making history along the way.

NOTE: Descendants of the Apache warrior Geronimo still live in Cochise County and have loaned materials to the museum. They have, however, asked that their names not be revealed; both the museum and I have promised to honor their request and, therefore, their more recent history is not discussed herein.

1. INFLUENCE OF THE SPANISH CROWN

A shipwreck is ultimately the reason why Sierra Vista exists today. In 1528, a Spaniard named Alvar Nunez Cabeza de Vaca survived a shipwreck off the southeast coast of Texas. Most of his shipmates and whatever cargo was being transported—possibly cattle, as his name would loosely indicate—were lost. Cabeza de Vaca and a few friends, battered though they were, either swam ashore or washed in on the tide. Either way, four men eventually found themselves resting on sand. Hot sun dried their clothing. Nothing was broken or scraped that wouldn’t heal. Things were bad, but at least they were still alive. They’d have to find shelter and food, of course, but such tasks were manageable. Unfortunately, they didn’t enjoy the beach for long.

Captured almost immediately by Native Americans, Nunez and three of his companions spent some time as prisoners before eventually managing to escape. For the next eight years, they struggled on foot, finding their way back to civilization in Mexico City. Once they had returned, stories from Cabeza de Vaca’s imagination—perhaps fueled during those eight years in the jungle—became mixed with Spanish legends about Seven Cities of Gold and even wilder stories told by the Native Americans. Spurred on by his reception as a survivor, he embroidered his stories still further. He soon told of wonderful riches to be found in the vast, uncharted lands north of the path he’d traveled. Cabeza de Vaca’s stories soon caught the attention of government rulers.

Under orders subsequently issued by the viceroy of Mexico, Fray Marcos de Niza mounted an expedition that brought him into what is now San Pedro River territory in the late spring of 1539. Fateful events, including the death of his guide, caused de Niza to greatly fear entering even the first small city believed to be part of Cibola (the so-called ‘Seven Cities of Gold’). He returned to Mexico where, for reasons of pride or whatever, he found himself telling made-up stories not necessarily of Cibola but of incredible riches just waiting for discovery.

Within a year, armor glinted in the bright sunlight and plumes danced atop the officers’ helmets. There were over 200 conquistadores on horseback, some 60-plus foot soldiers, with enough workers and servants to bring the numbers to around 1,000 people, plus over 1,500 heads of livestock intended for either transportation or food. Spanish foot soldiers left Mexico in layered leather gear, sweating in the heat as they toiled up and over Montezuma Pass. The expedition was under the command of Francisco Vasquez de Coronado (1510–1554), who’d settled in Mexico after arriving from Spain when he was just 25 years old.

Struggling to reach what is now called Montezuma Pass in the Huachuca Mountains, the leader and his complete entourage looked back to where they’d been. Nearby is Coronado Peak (elevation 6,864 feet), Montezuma Peak (elevation 7,676 feet), and more. Though now in Arizona, the pass was then in Sonora; that’s Mexico in the distance.

After marrying and starting a family, Coronado had been appointed governor of the province of Nueva Galicia before being tempted by the stories of the Seven Cities of Gold. He mounted a well-equipped (for the times) but ill-fated expedition to find those cities. In their search, they marched generally northward into new and unexplored territory that they claimed for Spain.

The conquerors could not imagine that native peoples were anything other than uncivilized. The land, therefore, was all available to he who first laid claim. Already, entire regions had been mapped out, lines drawn, Spanish names—not Indian names—given to rivers, mountains, communities, etc.

This map shows the proximity of the Santa Cruz River, forming the Santa Cruz Corridor leading northward, and the San Pedro River, which is pertinent to Apacheria and the future Sierra Vista. The rivers’ headwaters are in Mexico. Lower San Pedro is actually northward, closer to where it joins the Gila River (once Mexico’s northern border). Note the Spanish spelling of some names such as S. de Guachuca, which translates to Huachuca Mountains. (Courtesy of Rosario Guzman.)

These good-intentioned groups had been given a huge assignment: find the celebrated Cities of Gold and, along the way, colonize. And introduce Christianity to the native peoples (a duty added when an earlier explorer found that many Indian men not only drank too much but had several wives). Consequently, groups usually included not only the soldiers but zealous volunteers who, along with teaching a new religion that disallowed heavy drinking and multiple wives, were expected to spread the Spanish language and Spanish customs.

Somehow, it never occurred to any of them that they were invading, not discovering. The general expectation was that the Crown’s version of civilization, defined as being under Spanish influence and guidance, would cause all the assorted Indian nations to lay down their arms. They would give up fighting with each other, give up raids on enemy villages, give up freedom and autonomy. With proper guidance, they would all become wonderfully docile, peace-loving (and tax-paying, of course) servants of the Spanish crown.

Thus, to accomplish such ambitious plans, missionaries were included on many an exploration. As they spread their faith, they built a series of protective missions, usually along riverbanks. These settlements followed a mostly northward pattern from New Spain, through Sonora and present-day Nogales, on up the Santa Cruz River to what is now Phoenix, and beyond. Historians tend to dwell on that area while ignoring this side of the mountains.

Of note, however, is that when missions were built, they weren’t really for the soldiers and not entirely for the religious leaders. It was all because Spain’s eyes were fixed on the money. Money and control, which would bring even more money when the native peoples were taught to respect their masters and to be humbly grateful for what Spain was doing for them, made the missions necessary.

It began with a bunch of poppycock when a respected explorer took word back to the Crown that he’d seen entire villages made of gold. Spain wanted that gold. Thus, the report spawned a series of ill-conceived, explorational searches for those villages. Eventually, Cibola (a.k.a. the Seven Cities of Gold) were discovered to be nothing more than bright sun reflected off adobe huts, and interest certainly waned. However, it wasn’t long until the dream resurfaced in different form.

In their earlier searches, explorers noted but passed by signs of rich mineral deposits in the north. They saw evidence of silver and copper and, yes, some gold; it just wasn’t the Seven Cities. They did, however, report the sightings. When word eventually filtered back to Spain, it piqued the Crown’s interest and created new visions of fabulous wealth through colonization. So, in a first come, first served manner, the Spaniards came.

Of course, once walled missions were in place, communities grew around them. Gardens were planted and the daily business of life went on. Along the Santa Cruz corridor, members of several Indian villages were arguably converted to the strange new faith (though scholars may question whether they stayed converted or not) and, for protection from their enemies, brought more families into the fold. Sometimes the missions weren’t enough. To protect settlers and missions from rampaging Indians and from bandits, actual forts—called presidios (such as early Tucson)—were built. They were effective. Expansion continued in a somewhat steady northward pattern geared to the Santa Cruz River and its tributaries. It is an area entirely west of today’s Cochise County.

Eventually, needing to refresh their funds and their treasury, the Spanish Crown decided to make use of the minerals found during their search for the Seven Cities. To get them out of the ground, they needed miners, lots of miners. Recruitment (and rumors) spread; soon, willing miners began arriving from all parts of the world. It wasn’t long until even the comparatively peaceful O’odham became restive, apprehensive at the sheer, overwhelming number of arrogant foreigners pouring into their homeland, foreigners who considered the Native Americans uncivilized and treated them as such.

Adding to their frustration, the O’odham were no longer free, no longer in control of their own lives; they had been forcibly taken over and just as forcibly coerced to help dig deep into their own earth. But for what? They gained nothing from it. Their unbelievably backbreaking labor produced something that brought them no deliverance. It simply disappeared. The food they were given wasn’t what they had eaten for centuries, not what their systems demanded. They were not fed well at all but were subject to beatings at the overseer’s slightest whim. Suffering what amounted to slave labor, the Indians saw everything they produced going to the invaders or the invaders’ overseas government. The rumbling swell of discontent grew louder; soon, a group of O’odham mounted a bloody but doomed revolt. The superior organization, sheer numbers, and advanced weaponry of the Spanish soon ended the action.

To the invaders, such ongoing rebellions were a manageable problem. Because