Chapter 3
"The Repose of the Dead:"
Conflict and Power on the Frontier
Traditionally, frontiers have been depicted as the antithesis to order, yet on the surface Sonora appeared to be a very structured society.[1] Laws governing public behavior, the ownership of weapons, drinking, and even profanity, existed in most municipalities. In addition, strong moral codes regulated most interpersonal relationships. Despite these formal regulations, the world of the early Sonoran remained precarious, plagued by internal strife and wars with the indigenous people. Studies of the Mexican north have equated this pattern of conflict with a legacy of northern individualism and generalized resistance to authority. Little conclusive evidence exists for such broad assumptions-the presence of civil disorder on the frontier can be deceiving. Lacking strong political or social institutions, strife provided an important mechanism of social control. A certain dialectic existed between discord, economic opportunity, and the maintenance of political power. For the federal government, conflict on the frontier temporarily prevented any one group from completely dominating politics. Groups which emerged from the fracas could be slowly co-opted in exchange for recognition and legitimacy.[2] Moreover, the appearance of chaos also made the region unattractive to all but the most determined foreign interlopers. Local political factions and notables also benefited from conflict. On countless occasions, competing interest groups, whether liberal or conservative, used the threat of Apache and Yaqui attacks, invasions from filibusters,
or disagreements with neighboring states to institute dictatorial powers or to extract higher taxes from the populace.[3] Notables and foreigners took advantage of recurring conflicts to amass personal fortunes without the undue competition which they might confront during peacetime.
The tendency of norteños to take matters into their own hands obscured the role that violence played in the maintenance of political order. For elites, the existence of strife became an important means of control, deflecting political opposition in times of crisis. When such conditions did not exist, contending political groups, such as those led by Manuel María Gándara, José Urrea, and Ignacio Pesqueira, fomented unrest by entering into agreements with Seris, Yaquis, or foreigners in order to gain political advantages. Within Sonora this ruse came to be known as the petate del muerto (the repose of the dead).
As accounts of wars spread, Sonora gained a reputation for being a dangerous state that was inhospitable to outsiders. For many years, this notoriety afforded the state a degree of protection. In his journal, William Perkins summarized the ambivalence with which most outsiders viewed Sonora: "[S]uch is the terror inspired by the numerous tribes of warlike Indians in that district [Sonora] that no one as yet has ventured into the dangerous but at the same time tempting mountains."[4] This dubious appraisal of Sonora found resonance even in Europe. In 1860, on the eve of the French intervention, a member of that country's chamber indicated that "the only thing we know is that the climate of Sonora is dangerous, deadly mortiferous for Europeans, and that ferocious savages Apache Indians have rendered that province uninhabitable."[5]
Confronted by the insecurity of life on the frontier, Silvio Zavala noted that the norteño took "on a spirit in which the prevailing dangers and hardships could be confronted."[6] The inability of the authorities to oversee a massive territory forced Sonorans to take up arms against Apaches, bandits, and foreign border interlopers. A strong tradition of self-defense rooted in the necessities of life and the struggle for survival became a significant feature of Sonora's regional identity.[7] Miguel León Portilia argued that as a result of conflict, the norteño adopted an attitude of "permanent defense," a siege mentality.[8] As historian Héctor Aguilar Camín points out, "inhabitants of isolated townships always had some episode of armed combat among their anecdotes and a rifle or revolver among their belongings."[9] Attempts by the state to exert its authority over the population proved ineffective.
Guerra de Castas
The state of relations between Sonora's Mexican and its indigenous population continued to be a principal source of conflict. After independence, Sonorans engaged in a relentless guerra de castas (caste war) with large segments of the indigenous population.[10] In the north, raids by Apaches occurred with such regularity that one French traveler compared them to the ebb and flow of the ocean tide.[11] Repeated unrest caused by wars with the indigenous destabilized the organization of Mexican and native society. Sonoran blancos, as many notables referred to themselves, viewed the indigenous as the "plague of the state" and blamed them for the lack of prosperity. State leaders characterized campaigns against the Apache and the Yaqui as an epic struggle between the forces of "barbarism and civilization." Antipathy against the Apache reached extreme levels of hatred. Lorenzo García, an influential military and political figure, typified this spirit when he wrote that "nothing is more noble than the campaign that we have launched, . . . that we are fighting against the sworn enemy of the civilization, against an avid vampire which draws the blood of humanity on the march of progress."[12] The indigenons, however, viewed things differently. The acquisition of land and the procurement of a labor force came, as they saw it, at their expense. Military campaigns meant to subjugate the Yaqui and Mayo in the south, the Seri in the coastal region, and Apaches in the north engendered a legacy of conflict in the state. Access to land and the need to secure a labor force fueled most of the wars with the indigenous groups. The Seri, Yaqui, and Mayo tenaciously struggled to maintain their traditional lifestyle and resisted encroachment by the Mexicans.[13] Wars with these groups and the Apache from the north reached levels of violence unparalleled elsewhere in Mexico.[14]
Yaquis
Sonora's indigenous population inhabited every area of the state, forcing a relatively small number of Mexican forces to fight on many fronts. In the south, the Yaqui occupied the fertile lands adjoining the river valley which bears their name and resisted encroachment upon their lands by the Spanish, Mexicans, and foreign speculators. They maintained a strong sense of ethnic identity rooted in traditional lands, an established village structure, and a history of self government. The Yaquis
"survived by asserting their distinct identity and insisting on a separate existence."[15] Sonoran measures to deal with the Yaquis borrowed from Spanish practices. During the 1850s and 1860s, when military efforts to "pacify" the Yaqui failed, the state implemented campaigns to exterminate them by separating the male and female populations. Officials deported captured Yaqui women and children to the northern border districts, far from their families and traditional surroundings. In 1861 Manuel Escalante, the prefect of Hermosillo, received a party of over one hundred and fifty captured Yaqui women and children; he sent them to the prefect of Altar so that they might be dispersed in his district as servants.[16] In urban areas, abducted Yaqui children made up a great percentage of the household servants.[17]
Seris
The Seris, numbering approximately 5,000, lived in the western coastal region of Hermosillo and the adjoining island of Tiburón.[18] Owing to their largely nomadic existence, they never submitted to Spanish efforts to "reduce" them to mission life.[19] According to Ramón Corral, who wrote a brief history of them, the Seris resolutely opposed "intermixing with other communities" and repeatedly challenged civil authority.[20] Perplexed by his inability to "pacify" rebellious Seri's, Cayetano Navarro, the prefect of Salvación (later made a part of Guaymas), proposed a plan in 1852 to Governor Fernando Cubillas to capture Seri women. Navarro intended to hold them in presidios and to use them as inducement in order to force Seri men to surrender.[21] Since 1850 Navarro had already "successfully" implemented this plan on a smaller scale, keeping a running count of the number of captured Seri women and children.[22] In his letter to the governor, Navarro insisted that, although the state desperately needed immigrants, the Seri "because of their character and customs could never be transformed into useful citizens and workers."[23] Navarro's plan to "resolve" the Seri threat received the approval of the military commander of the state General Miguel Blanco, who, in addition, proposed to deport the Seris to the interior of Mexico, where they would become "useful agricultural workers."[24] Access to land continued to fuel conflict with the indigenous. In the midst of Navarro's plan to quash the Seri, the government sold their homeland, Tiburón Island, to several local Mexican ranchers.[25]
Apaches
In the northern border districts, Sonorans faced their most dreaded enemy, the Apache.[26] From safe havens across the United States or in neighboring Chihuahua, the Apache, in particular the Chiricahua, waged guerrilla warfare in Sonora.[27] The northern districts of Altar, Magdalena, Arizpe, and Moctezuma bore the brunt of Apache attacks. Although northern Sonora accounted for over half of the state's territory, the area retained less than a quarter of Sonora's population.[28] Incursions by the Apaches made the region practically uninhabitable.[29] During colonial times, the presence of military presidios had limited Apache raids. After independence, with the demise of the presidios, the Apache had virtually a free reign over the north. Apache forays pushed population either south, to the vicinity of larger settlements, or after 1856, north into the Arizona territory. José Velasco estimated that each year upwards of one thousand residents lost their lives fighting Apaches.[30] In 1871, American consul Alexander Willard offered his own estimate of the number of people who perished and migrated. He reported that from 1861 to 1869, 8,500 Sonoran had migrated to California, 7,500 to Arizona, and 4,000 had perished at the hands of the Apache.[31] According to Willard, the situation in Sonora had become so tragic that "the number of deaths registered exceeded those of birth by 1,184."[32] The sparse northern settlements resembled remote Mexican islands surrounded by hostile Apaches who kept them separated from the rest of the state.[33] To reside in the north, one newspaper insisted, required the patience of Job.[34]
For those with patience and resources, disorder could prove profitable. Encouraged by the American acquisition of Arizona and early plans to build a railroad, a long list of wealthy families, including the Camou, Elías, Ainza, and others, acquired lands previously owned by the indigenous, the Catholic Church, and retreating Sonorans.[35] Able to finance defense of their property, they acquired large tracts of northern land. Some foreigners also anticipated that profits could be made in periods of crisis. A small number of Americans began to organize companies in order to finance the exploitation of Sonora's mineral wealth. Several speculators formed the Cincinnati and Sonora Mining Company and proposed to be the "pioneers of the great American wave of miners that will flow in by the ocean from San Francisco or roll down from the segregated mines of Arizona to the great fissure mines of northern Sonora."[36] While most Americans feared turmoil, a cunning few saw an
opportunity "to select the best property, without the competition or opposition that our agents must have encountered had they reached there when citizens and foreigners were alike devoted to mining."[37] Disorder and conflict, in short, could also be profitable.
Most common people could not prosper from these conditions and conflict continued to take its toll. Unable to wage effective campaigns to deter the Apaches, the state government resorted instead to offering rewards for their capture. A decree in February of 1850 informed "military officers and entrepreneurs that they would receive a reward of one hundred and fifty pesos for every male Indian, dead or alive, and one hundred pesos for every live woman." In addition they would be allowed to keep children of either sex under fourteen years of age, "to educate in social principles."[38] To pay for these rewards, the government planned to use the tax imposed on the sale of tobacco and luxury products. Besides trafficking in Apaches, money could also be made by recovering lost or stolen cattle and horses. Ranchers were required to pay a fee to persons who returned their lost or stolen animals. By implementing this policy, the government hoped to induce the formation of raiding parties to hunt Apaches.[39] For the forcibly drafted state military forces, these rewards became the only incentive for serving. The militia force at Cumpas, for example, was financed from payment for scalps and captured Apaches.[40]
Within a few months, the government increased the reward for Apaches to two hundred pesos and offered to pay for all ammunition expended.[41] Ten years later, Governor Ignacio Pesqueira increased the reward to three hundred pesos.[42] Notice of the reward appeared in local newspapers as well as in the Chihuahuan and Arizona presses. The compensation attracted raiding parties from neighboring states and the Arizona Territory. The rewards for Apaches had dire consequences for indigenous and Mexicans alike. Americans who responded to the advertisement, according to John Hall, a long-time resident from Britain, hunted down "Tarahumaras, Mexicans and Yaquis . . . turning them in for Indian scalps."[43]
To combat the Apache, Sonora made use of traditional tensions between indigenous groups. Conflict with the Apache allowed Sonoran authorities to enter into alliances with groups who under normal circumstances might have rejected joint action. Having suffered the wrath of the Apache, other groups-the Pima, Tohono O'odham, and Opata-willingly joined forces with the Sonoran authorities.[44] With government forces, they repelled Apaches and hunted them down in order to
claim the reward offered for their scalps.[45] The Opatas and Tohono O'odhams became in the words of one venerable observer, the "main brake on Apache incursions."[46]
Americans exploited the tensions that existed between Apaches and Mexicans. After their acquisition of Arizona, most Sonorans, including top leaders like Corral, contended that Americans openly colluded with Apaches in their attacks on Mexico. Colonel García, a veteran of many campaigns, maintained that Apaches received American weapons, clothing, and provisions in return for peace in the U.S. territory.[47] García described one episode in which his troops overran an Apache position and found American weapons, blankets, uniforms, and even a new United States Army reloading machine.[48] Sylvester Mowry, an American mining speculator, validated this view when he argued that the "Apache Indian [is] preparing Sonora for the rule of a higher civilization than the Mexican." Mowry believed that the Apache would eventually drive the Mexicans "farther south, leaving to us (when the time is ripe for our possession) the territory without its population."[49] Mowry's comments reflected a widely held view among Americans in the region during the 1850s and 1860s. North Americans such as Mowry and General John B. Frisbee hoped to acquire an empty Sonora, one without the racial issue that would result with the annexation of a "mongrelized race."[50] Captain Charles P. Stone, the United States consul in Guaymas, described Sonora as "the great Apache rancho, where they went when they needed cattle or horses."[51] This situation continued until the signing of a reciprocal agreement in 1882 by which military forces could cross the border while in pursuit of Apaches.[52]
Besieged
Friction with the Native Americans forced Sonoran settlements to be constantly on the alert for raids and reinforced the need for owning weapons. Attacks by Apaches did not occur only on lonely trails and outlying northern towns-raiding parties conducted forays as far south as Hermosillo and Guaymas.[53] Even in larger urban areas, residents kept on the alert for possible attacks. The urban schema of most towns, with large tracts of land under cultivation within the urban area, reflected how conflict had influenced settlement patterns. One barrio in Hermosillo, known as la Cohetera, earned its name because in earlier years, one older woman launched rockets into the night sky to frighten attackers.[54]
Thomas Robinson Warren mocked what he perceived as a Sonoran "besieged mentality." To prove his point, during a hot summer night in Guaymas with some friends, he provoked a "herd of jackasses quietly snoozing and giving a series of diabolic yells" turned the animals loose on a street. People sleeping on the sidewalks, a custom during hot summer nights, awoke and assumed they were under attack by Apaches. According to Warren, his actions caused such "hubbub [as] never was seen or heard, every cot overturned, women half dressed rushing about crying Indians, Indians . . . while men, seizing their arms, let fly into the unfortunate donkeys."[55] A similar instance occurred at Campo Viejo in the vicinity of Hermosillo. When residents heard noises on the outskirts of town, they presumed it to be an attack by Apache. Several men opened fire in the direction of the noise, convinced that they had repelled an attack. The next morning, fearing further attacks, residents had yet to venture out of the town. Upon hearing of the incident at Campo Viejo, the district prefect ordered an investigation. A party scouted the area where the noise had originated. Rather than an Apache raiding party, it found a "Yaqui, who always ran around naked with a bow and arrow, dead under some trees."[56] The prefect jailed those responsible for the shooting on the grounds of raising false alarms and creating a disturbance.
El Petate del Muerto
Liberal and conservative factions exploited hostile relations with the indigenous population to gain political advantages. They forged temporary alliances to out-maneuver rivals and used the threat of attack to repress opponents. When they needed armies to fight their enemies, Sonoran rebels typically augmented their numbers by recruiting forces from among the native population. For the indigenous these occasions became an opportunity to extract concessions, if only temporary, from feuding forces. In 1833, for example, the captain of the Hermosillo guard, Juan José Tovar, seconded Santa Anna's call to topple Bustamante and rebelled against the governor. To mount his campaign, Tovar recruited a military force from among the Seris and, later, the Yaquis, promising them access to new lands.[57]
Some of the bloodiest episodes in Sonoran history occurred when the contending forces of José Urrea, Manuel Gándara, and Ignacio Pesqueira drew the Seri and Yaqui populations into their conflict. During their tenure, these governors alternately utilized the danger of Yaqui
rebellions to impose taxes, suspend civil liberties, declare martial law, raise armies, and cancel elections. Using the threat that Urrea had sold their valley to foreigners, Gándara raised an army from among Yaquis, forging long-term alliances with many local governors.[58] To counter Gándara's actions, Urrea moved against the Seris and indiscriminately destroyed several rancherias. Before long, his bloody plan worked and the Seris rebelled, thus forcing Gándara's forces to fight a war on several fronts.[59]
Governors selectively distributed resources to fight the threat of the Apache or Yaqui. On more than one occasion residents of the northern districts claimed that in reprisal for not supporting Gándara's policies, state military forces had been withdrawn from their area. To wage war on Pesqueira, the Gándara government withdrew troops from the north, concentrating forces around Guaymas, where he had established his base of operations.[60] With no assistance, most ranchos in the area were overrun. The government insisted that it simply lacked the funds to wage a war on all fronts.[61]
The practice of recruiting Yaqui combatants reached new levels under the governorship of Ignacio Pesqueira from the late 1850s through 1870s. Historian Manuel González contends that Gándara and others fomented "persistent rebellion among the Yaquis and Mayos in order to achieve political objectives."[62] Pesqueira eventually managed to break Gándara's hold on the Yaquis, forging his own separate peace with several native leaders. The Gándara-Yaqui alliance resurfaced once again during the French intervention as both sides made appeals to the Yaqui population. The French, with Gándara and the Yaqui leader Tanóri at their side, succeeded in wining over a significant number of Yaquis. The French commander General Castagny recognized the importance of the Yaqui allies and authorized local officers to spare no expense to win them over. On the other side, Pesqueira and General Angel Martínez actively recruited from among the Opatas and other groups, eventually gaining the upper hand in the conflict.[63]
With the French defeated, Pesqueira once again resumed the governorship and actively used the Yaqui threat to squash a growing opposition. At times he even relied on the Yaqui vote to stay in office. When it suited them, ranchers customarily cast votes for all their laborers, whether they were Yaqui or not.[64] In a close election, a large block of votes, usually from the Yaqui or Mayo Valley and in most cases obtained either through coercion or in exchange for favors, would invariably swing elections in favor of the incumbent governor. Frustrated by
Pesqueira's use of the Yaqui threat to quash opposition, in 1873 a faction in the state assembly attempted to weaken the governor by reforming the state constitution. The dissidents sought to prohibit the reelection of governors, establish direct elections for prefects, and more importantly, strip all Yaquis and Mayos of the right to vote. This last move was an effort to prevent the governor's manipulation of Yaqui votes and undercut his reelection. After a heated debate, the assembly adopted the amendments by a narrow margin.[65] Rather than simply reflecting deep-seated anti-Yaqui sentiments, the issue of voting rights became part of an effort to weaken the power of Pesqueira.
Faced with the prospect of losing an important voting bloc, Pesqueira and his supporters became ardent supporters of the Yaquis' and Mayos' political rights. The congress received a flood of petitions from El Mineral de la Trinidad, Bacanora, Tepoca, and Arivechi, all in the district of Sahuaripa and all traditional strongholds of Governor Pesqueira. Moreover, to arouse local indignation against the electoral reforms, Pesqueira wrapped himself in the mantle of nationalism and insisted that the constitutional modifications were an attempt to "implant the American political system in México."[66] The governor and his allies eventually out-maneuvered the opposition and forced a new vote with alternative delegates present. Though undermined by Pesqueira, the reformers nonetheless managed to exclude "rebellious Yaquis" from voting-under the new regulation, only Yaquis who lived in formal towns, under civil authority, where competing political interests could campaign for their support, could vote.[67] This compromise weakened Pesqueira's long hold on power.
Crime and Banditry
Political disputes, whether regional or national, also provided a cover for banditry. In 1870 one case in particular exposed the powerlessness of state authorities. In May of that year, Fortino Vizcaíno, a supporter of Plácido Vega's call against Benito Juárez, raided Guaymas. Under the cover of darkness, Vizcaíno slipped into Guaymas Bay, and his forces commandeered the local jail and freed the prisoners.[68] By daybreak Vizcaíno had taken over the town. A small force of Guaymenses escaped and assembled at San José de Guaymas several kilometers away to plan a counterattack. Since most of Guaymas councilmen had previously requested leaves and could not be reached, resistance floundered. Eleazar Muñoz, the prefect of Hermosillo, and General Jesús Morales attempted
to organize a small defense force. By the time they reentered the town, the invaders had departed. In assessing the damage they found that Vizcaíno had removed 5,000 rifles from the armory, robbed the local aduana of over 100,000 pesos, looted most of the leading merchants and had taken several ships under tow.[69] In an action which newspapers in Mazatlán labeled disloyal, local authorities, unable to pursue Vizcaíno, requested the assistance of an American naval vessel, which docked several days later.[70]
Most Sonoran settlements had more to worry about than Apache and Yaqui attacks. Confronting extremely harsh conditions of life and taking advantage of the weak state authority, many Sonorans turned to banditry to improve their lot. The contradictions between the lucrative extraction of precious metals and the relative deplorable living conditions spawned most banditry. At this level, the Sonoran bandit seems to corroborate the traditional image of people who take up arms to avenge social injustices.[71] Yet there are important differences from the notion of unorganized peasants turning to banditry to compensate for social inequities. Except for the Yaqui leader José María Leyva Cajeme, few became heroes or fought for anything resembling a social cause. In such instances, the image that emerges of these characters "emanated from the pens of urban middle class writers, not from folk sources per se."[72] In the case of the Yaqui leader, Governor Corral published a tribute to the legendary figure presumably based on interviews he conducted on the eve of Cajeme's death by firing squad.[73] Serialized in a state newspaper, Corral's work reached a broad audience. For most Sonorans, the lore surrounding banditry never materialized. Rather the bandits emerged as faceless criminals who lashed out indiscriminately at class enemies and also at members of their own social group. In the final analysis, however, broader sectors of the population benefited indirectly from banditry; however, for bandits this service simply represented a profitable venture and not a planned social strategy to remedy class injustices.
As crops failed and mining declined, many Sonorans turned to banditry. Travelers, especially foreigners, became favorite targets of the bandoleros (brigands). C. Combier, a French merchant, advised outsiders to follow Mexican tradition and travel light.[74] In keeping with this practice, he "went on horseback, well armed and followed by one servant, without carrying any baggage."[75] Newcomers who failed to heed the advice usually fell prey to bandits. One typical case involved three Americans en route to Hermosillo in 1873. Unable to reach their desti-
nation before nightfall, they sought shelter at the Tavique ranch. The next morning as they resumed their journey, two armed men robbed them not far from the ranch. The brigands took their horses, personal belongings, clothing, and "175 greenbacks."[76] The district prefect who investigated the incident determined that the owners of the ranch had perpetrated the theft. Frustrated by the repeated assaults, in 1873 the state enacted the death penalty for highwaymen. Ruperto Lopez, for example, was condemned to death for having robbed and killed a Chinese traveler returning from a buying excursion to Tucson.[77]
Isolated mining camps which proliferated throughout the state also became frequent targets of bandits. In addition to precious metals, mines usually stored large stocks of goods to sell on credit to their laborers. In July 1860, a gang of bandits descended on the San Pedro mine, in the district of Hermosillo, taking everything they could carry off. The list of stolen articles illustrates how common Sonorans might have benefited from banditry. It includes the usual assortment of rifles and pistols, as well as dozens of boots, shoes, shirts, ties, undergarments, and several dozen pairs of pants.[78] Seldom frequented by merchants, remote villages in the interior of the state depended on the traffic of stolen property, and this illicit trade became an important source of merchandise. Bandits frequently used towns along the border and near the coast as their bases of operation and as outlets for stolen goods. Residents in these areas benefited from the banditry and at times protected them from state authorities. Up the coast from Guaymas at the small port of Comuripa, Prefect G. Corella reported that many in the town made their living from robbery and openly sold their loot in the town square.[79] Military authorities who visited San Marcial in the district of Hermosillo complained that bandits "leave and enter the town as if they were legitimate merchants."[80] The military officer responsible for the area complained to the prefect of Hermosillo that the municipal president of San Marcial openly colluded with the bandits. When one outlaw, known as "el Cojo Vidal," offered to implicate the municipal president, he mysteriously died while in custody. Incidents similar to those at Comuripa and San Marcial could be found elsewhere in the state. Further north near the border, the prefect of Altar complained that Saric and Caborca had become dens of thieves who openly trafficked in stolen merchandise.[81]
The presence of bandoleros, some in organized bands, others acting independently, further destabilized life in the north. For campesinos
with a few head of cattle, large ranchers, or urban merchants, little distinction existed between raids by Apaches, brigands, or abusive officials. The outcome was usually the same, including the loss of property, or worse, life. The dual threats-bandits and Apaches-took their toll on the people of the area. In the district of Guaymas, the owner of a small rancho, the Santa Ana, appeared at his wits end. In the morning of August 14, 1871, bandits raided his ranch. In the afternoon of the same day, Apaches showed up and took what little remained on his land.[82]
Lower-level government officials, both civilians and the military, actively participated in banditry, and ethnic tension and political acrimony permitted authorities to cloak their actions. Under the guise of waging war on the Apaches, robbery became quite profitable for some in the military. Officers abused the state laws which permitted them to expropriate food and animals while in pursuit of Apaches or Yaquis. Sonorans lodged numerous complaints against officers who confiscated their crops and animals for their own use. In Fronteras, for example, the commander of the town came under increasing criticism for taking supplies from the local population.[83] Even foreign mine operators fell victim to this scheme. John Anderson, the American superintendent of the Trinidad mine, protested that, while claiming to be chasing Yaquis, Mexican troops had twice seized his horses and mules.[84] In another case, rancher Ventura Angulo protested to the prefect of Guaymas that government troops had taken his entire corn crop to feed their animals. Angulo insisted that he supported the war against the Yaquis but could not survive unless the government compensated him for the loss of his crops.[85] For Angulo and countless others, no reimbursement was forthcoming.
Northern residents found it difficult to distinguish between the atrocities committed by Apaches and those of the military authorities charged with their protection. In Ures during 1880, for example, the platoon of soldiers which guarded the old capital released all the prisoners, and together they looted the town before heading north to Arizona. According to the district prefect, after robbing most of the town's important stores, the gang of ten soldiers and eleven prisoners "kicked down the doors of the most respected and well off and began to verbally insult them without reason."[86] The incident demonstrated the deep-seated social cleavages which existed in this society. Soldiers, who repeatedly risked their lives in Apache wars and political disputes, re-
ceived little compensation for their efforts and frequently deserted or rebelled.[87]
Cattle Rustling
Cattle became a persistent target of bandits. Most early Sonoran rustlers and Apaches stole cattle for meat and not as part of an organized contraband trade. Strict laws governing the sale of cattle deterred an extensive market in stolen animals within the state. All brands had to be recorded with state officials, and from time to time, they appeared in the state newspaper. These conditions changed dramatically with the presence of population in Arizona. As settlements increased north of the border, rustlers found ready markets for stolen cattle.[88] During one three-month period in 1879 in the district of Altar, more than 500 cattle and 300 horses were stolen and sold across the border in Arizona.[89] Although state authorities periodically sent the national guard to patrol the area, they proved ineffective in deterring the cattle rustlers.[90]
The illegal sale of cattle proved so lucrative that even wealthy landowners and local authorities became involved. Ranchers in Magdalena accused the powerful hacendado Manuel Mascareñas of appropriating unbranded calves on his property and selling them in the United States. Mascareñas became indignant at the accusation, scolding local authorities. Rather than face charges, he telegraphed his good friend Governor Luis Torres, who ordered the prefect to drop the investigation.[91] Elsewhere in Magdalena, ranchers complained to the state government that they confronted "two maladies, Apaches and bandits."[92] They knew how to defend themselves against Apaches, but the rustlers had bribed the municipal president, thus allowing the thieves a free hand. Local authorities disregarded rancher's complaints, and although several bandits had been arrested, the municipal president refused to prosecute.
Because it employed traditional practices, cattle-ranching lent itself to abuse. Without fences, cattle from various ranches usually grazed side by side. Once a year, the district prefect appointed a juez de campo (field judge) to oversee an area-wide roundup, during which, the cattle would be counted and the calves branded. Eventually taxes would be assessed on the size of the herd. Invariably, as cattle sales to the United States became lucrative, the once traditional roundup became mired
in controversy. Several levels of abuse existed. A few days prior to the roundup, ranchers who sought to avoid full disclosure, butchered young calves and sold them clandestinely. In one case, in district of Magdalena, a field judge reported finding the remains of over twenty calves which had been killed just days before the inspection.[93] Another common practice that judges found involved the rebranding of cattle that had strayed onto another rancher's property. Disputes of this sort pitted neighbor against neighbor. Even field judges did not escape criticism-ranchers accused them of seeking to profit from the roundups by confiscating any cattle whose owner could not be ascertained.[94]
Guardia Nacional
The state government responded to Apache and bandit attacks by requiring all males to serve in the Guardia Nacional (civil militia).[95] Laws enacted in 1835 created a state militia and ordered every municipality to establish a food deposit from which to provide for soldiers families. Having declared the Apache an "enemy of society," the state ordered "all individuals to sustain the war until its just end." Persons not willing to serve or who assisted the Apache in any way were considered foes of the state.[96] National legislation enacted in 1846 reinforced the local effort. The militia functioned at the local, district, and state levels and, theoretically, included all adult males between the ages of eighteen and fifty in the state.[97] Conscripts received training in the use of weapons and general principles of warfare from officers of the regular army. District prefects and municipal presidents assumed responsibility for the recruitment and maintenance of the civil militia. Whenever raids occurred, residents would be mobilized into units, shoulder their weapons, and pursue the lawbreakers.
The guardia augmented a smaller, regular military force which, in its early days, operated under the jurisdiction of the governor and after 1867 under a military commander appointed by the president.[98] Before 1880, the federal force remained small, and the primary responsibility for preserving order in the state fell on the civil militia.[99] Privilege, status, and occupation determined who served in the militia: merchants, politicians, hacendados, and rancheros avoided the draft by paying an exemption tax. In Hermosillo, for example, between March and July of 1861 Jesús Pesqueira, Juan Camou, Ignacio Buelna, and General Francisco Serna paid between 3 and 4 pesos a month to avoid service. Hermosillo authorities collected a total of $190.75 pesos in tax for ex-
emption from service.[100] In some cases, the draft also excused miners. Francisco Espino, the prefect of the Hermosillo district, reported that the mining town of Los Bronces could not comply with the draft because all the "men were barreteros [drillers] and as such did not have to serve."[101] Individuals who could not acquire a reprieve hid in the countryside to avoid service. Those under compulsory service in the guardia were usually from the lower classes, who could not afford to pay the exemption tax.
The money raised from guardia exemptions played an important role in the maintenance of the militia, helping to purchase horses, supplies, weapons, and munitions. Moreover, due to the government's chronic lack of funds, it is doubtful that the guardia could operate without the exemption tax. In the northern districts, where few notables lived, funds remained scarce. Facing constant deficits, northern prefects lacked weapons for their troops.[102] In Fronteras, for example, 100 trainees shared fewer than twenty weapons and in Hermosillo, 268 conscripts shared seventy rifles.[103] At times the local population appeared better armed than the authorities.
Facing raids by Apaches and bandits, frontier communities developed a keen interest in weaponry of all sorts.[104] A reconnaissance report prepared by a French captain noted that "in every ranch there is not an Indian or mestizo who does not own a rifle and sufficient munition for its use; to deny them of this right would be to condemn them to a sure death." The officer asserted that the widespread ownership of arms would be an impediment to the conquest of Sonora by the French. To assure subjugation of the state, the French must disarm the Sonorans "as soon as possible."[105] As the imperial forces later found out, Sonorans did not willingly relinquish possessions of their weapons.
To compensate for shortages in arms, local authorities maintained an inventory of the guns owned by citizens. For example, Santiago García, the prefect of Arizpe in 1858, reminded all municipal authorities to update records of the number of weapons owned by each individual. His communiqué also urged residents to carry their rifles at the ready in the event of Apache raids, telling municipal authorities to verify compliance with his order every fifteen days and during social gatherings and festivities.[106] When officials needed weapons they turned to the local population. In 1871, after a band of Apaches attacked the rancho Corral de Piedra in the district of Guaymas, the prefect confiscated the rifles and pistols of local residents in order to give chase to the attackers.[107] When political turmoil broke out in 1877, the military com-
mander of the district of Hermosillo, Francisco Espino, tried unsuccessfully to confiscate the weapons held by the citizenry.[108]
The scarce population in northern rural areas and the rotating nature of the draft increased the likelihood of men being forced to serve in the militia. Arizpe, for instance, had in 1872 a total population of 8,530 inhabitants, roughly half of whom were males. The district's militia included 462 active members and 102 exempted-a total of 562. Over 20 percent of the able male adult population served in the guardia at any one time.[109] In the district of Magdalena, a similar situation existed. In 1870 Magdalena had a population of 5,388 inhabitants, approximately half of them males.[110] The guardia force there included 662 active-duty personnel and 62 exempted individuals, a total of 724, or well over 20 percent of the males. Because of Magdalena's smaller population, the actual percentage of persons on active duty remained higher than in Arizpe. This pattern of conscription held true for the remaining border districts of Altar and Moctezuma.[111]
The Price of Conflict
Mandatory service in the guardia depleted the state's labor force. Landowners protested that the draft took their best laborers and on several occasions requested that their men be exempted from military service.[112] In 1873 in the border district of Moctezuma, for example, Jesús Provencio complained to local authorities that every time his men were mobilized into the guardia, the work on his ranch suffered. Provencio insisted that "his employees neither completely finished their work nor completely eliminated the threat from the bárbaros [Apaches]." He requested permission to form his own private militia from among his employees and patrol the areas which Apaches most frequented. Governor Ignacio Pesqueira approved his plan.[113] Other ranchers also maintained an armed force to defend their property.
Political turmoil and the price of waging a constant war against the Apaches and Yaquis drained local resources and stymied the state's long-term development. [ 114] In order to finance the wars, state authorities normally levied a special tax on towns and commercial enterprises.[115] To determine the amount of tax which each municipality must pay, prefects periodically conducted a census of the net worth of each community, including its principal commercial enterprises. Based on the result of the survey, the governor then assessed a tax on each town. To increase revenue, state authorities usually inflated the value of commer-
cial enterprises and land, so after the tax assessment, a ritual process of negotiation ensued between the state government, municipal authorities, and local business over the inflated figures.
In 1860, for example, the Pesqueira government levied a special tax of 56,000 pesos to deal with the "guerra de castas and repeated incidents of banditry."[116] The town of Baviacora received an assessment of 555 pesos. While affirming their support of the government's effort, the townspeople insisted that they lacked the money to pay taxes. The area surrounding Baviacora, in the foothills of the Sierra Madre, made it a frequent target of Apache raids. Strife, they argued did not allow them to "plant, and mining remained at a standstill."[117] Despite weeks of negotiations, Baviacora was forced to pay the assessed tax. Towns throughout the state repeated this complex process.[118]
After 1856, settlements in Arizona provided an alternative from taxes and compulsory military service. Prefects reported increases in the number of deserters from the guardia and the regular army,[119] and due to the flight of men in the northern districts, they could not adequately form guardia units. By the 1870s, the problem of out-migration had become a source of embarrassment for state authorities. To illustrate the point, the municipal president of Santa Cruz, district of Magdalena, reported to the prefect on March 9, 1874, that he could not fulfill his quota of twenty-five draftees because of "the considerable migration that his town had experienced."[120] Even the fifteen draftees he had managed to cajole petitioned to be exempted from service in order to tend their crops. The governor, however, refused to release the fifteen men, citing continued attacks by "bárbaros in the border districts."[121] Not surprisingly, life in Arizona, where no draft existed, became an attractive alternative to many residents serving in the guardia.[122]
The state government acknowledged that it faced a dilemma in the northern districts. With the guardia in crisis, the official newspaper, La Estrella de Occidente, assured prospective conscripts that they would be called upon only in times of extreme emergency. To allay anxieties, the paper wrote that "citizens of Sonora, who out of fear of the draft are emigrating to the American territory, should note that . . . the people of the frontier are only obligated to sacrifice their lives when the independence of the republic or its democratic institutions are in jeopardy."[123] Despite the assurances, young men continued fleeing to Arizona, and municipal authorities began jailing individuals selected for the draft until they were turned over to the military. With the guardia understaffed, in 1869 the prefect of Magdalena ordered all
"tramps, drifters, drunks, and vagrants drafted . . . to make up for the deserters."[124] In addition, prisoners in the state jails could have their sentence commuted if they agreed to serve time in the military. Frustrated by the incidents of flight, local authorities in Altar attempted to force foreigners to serve in the militia. Frank J. Boisville, a native of Louisiana, married to a Mexican woman and employed in Altar as a school teacher, was ordered to serve in the guardia or pay the appropriate tax. Only after the United States' consul in Guaymas intervened did the governor exempt Boisville from service.[125]
The financial and even personal sacrifices represented only one aspect of the conflict with the Yaquis. There were also potential cultural and social ramifications from this ongoing strife. In a letter to José Guillermo Carbó, military commander of the northwest, Pedro Hinojosa, the secretary of war, summarized these concerns. He vehemently objected to the requests for campaigns of extermination against the Yaquis. With whom, he asked "would the Indian laborers be replaced?" Citing the war with Texas, he reminded Carbó that it would be absurd to expect to replace them with "Yankees," "Mormon colonies," or "Chinese servants," since Mexico would lose one of its richest states.[126] He urged an end to wars against the Yaquis and instead advocated negotiations. With the exception of a few hacendados in the south who depended on Yaqui labor, his concerns fell on deaf ears.
Armed Population
The general climate of lawlessness invariably affected women, especially indigenous women, more than men. Judicial records indicated that attacks against women occurred often and for the most part went unpunished. In Altar, two Sonoran men attempted to rape a Tohono O'odham woman who worked in a field. Although she managed to repel her attackers she was not so fortunate later that night-under the cover of darkness the men dragged her out of her home and raped her. Word quickly spread among the O'odham community, and the local authorities became concerned about Indian reprisals. The men managed to escape since, according to the prefect, the local judge "stayed in his ranch and refused to fulfill his responsibilities."[127] Other similar cases occurred elsewhere in Altar. In Caborca, the prefect Lucas Llain ordered the arrest of nine men, including three members of the local town council, for raping a young woman visiting from California. One man,
Francisco Ortega, received a six-month jail term for the rape and abduction. His accomplices, however, remained free.[128]
In the long run, violence and the proliferation of weapons among the population proved to be a problem for state authorities, who eventually had to regulate the use of firearms. Fearing the worst, municipal police commonly disarmed participants before sporting events. To cite one case, during a horse race in Hermosillo in 1870, even though all of the riders had been disarmed, the winner still perished in an altercation with the disgruntled loser.[129] Sporting contests were not the only events subject to regulation. Brawls in cantinas invariably led to armed confrontations, and saloons in larger towns prohibited admission to armed customers. Despite the regulation, violent barroom fights continued to plague local authorities. Even when police managed to ban weapons, disgruntled individuals always found ways of exacting their own form of personal justice. Cananea police reported that even after they had "diligently confiscated revolvers and knives, miners regularly killed each other with candeleros (metal candlesticks) which they used to hold their candles while they worked."[130]
In an effort to prevent disorders, the state and local municipalities passed strict laws regulating public behavior and the ownership of weapons.[131] Military authorities in Guaymas enforced rigid compliance with the new edicts. A decree published by José María Rangel, commander of the port, reminded Guaymenses that owners of weapons must have permits, that foul language was prohibited in public places, and that public drunkenness would not be tolerated. Any infraction of these laws, Rangel warned, would lead to immediate arrest.[132] Adherence to these new laws remained limited. Long accustomed to possessing firearms, Sonorans resisted attempts to restrict their right to bear arms. Officials had only limited success in enforcing these laws and problems associated with the widespread ownership of weapons continued to be a source of trouble. After the 1870s, authorities confronted the formidable task of establishing civil authority over a population long accustomed to resolving matters on their own. Frustrated by their inability to control these recurring problems, authorities at times resorted to their own form of justice. Incidents of prisoners shot by soldiers, supposedly while "trying to escape," occurred frequently.[133]
On the Sonoran frontier, ethnic conflict and civil strife became important weapons in the maintenance of political power. They served to place demands on the central government, to increase taxes, and to re-
press opposition. On the personal level, the experience produced "individuals aware of their rights and capable of fighting for them."[134] This was true of both the Mexicans who struggled to retain a foothold in the north and the Yaquis who tenaciously fought for their lands. Sonora's Porfirian officials also made use of these contradictions to gain a hold on power.[135] As foreign-inspired economic growth gave rise to a host of new contradictions, government officials gradually lost the ability to use the threat of attacks-el petate del muerto-to deflect criticism and contain dissidents.