I think Guadalajara is one of the most
surprising cities in North America. It's name has Arabic roots, wadi
l-ijara, meaning “the valley of the stones”, which hints at the
Medieval Moorish occupation of Spain, mother country to Mexico. At the same time Guadalajara's university, founded in 1791, helped make the capital of Jalisco province an
economic power house. But when James Reavis, Cryil Baratt and Rufus
C. Hopkins arrived in the winter of 1882, the town was struggling to
recover from 60 years of racial bloodshed, during which Indian tribes
rebelled against enslavement and oppressive government rule 27
separate times. It was only the Catholic church's obsession with
order and precedent which saved the region's history. And that is
what drew our trio of gringos to this cultural island.
Rufus C. Hopkins was probably not the
worst man Surveyor General Robbins could have picked to send on this
mission, but about his only qualification was that he could read the
Spanish used in old landgrants. He was 70 years old, and Reavis and
Baratt hovered around the old man, introducing him to the archivists,
the priests and clerks, ever eager to point out important documents
and even discovering a previously unknown copy of the 1748 cedulare
approving the Peralta grant. This latest discovery was important,
since nothing would discourage doubters looking closer into the grant
than the threat they would only stumble over new evidence supporting
it. The old man was clearly convinced. His report would support
Reavis' claim. Unfortunately for Mr. Reavis, back in Tucson Arizona,
things had taken a turn for the worse.
Hopkin's boss, Joseph W. Robbins, had
died of tuberculosis while the trio was in Guadalajara. His
replacement was his chief clerk, Royal A. Johnson, and he was healthy
and had a healthy skepticism about Hopkin's report on the Peralta
grant. He noted that tucked away in the back of Hopkins' report was
the note that the only records in Guadalajara which mentioned the
Peralta Grant, were those which specifically dealt with it. In
discussing the need for troops to deal with the Apache, for
instance, there was no mention of the grant, even though it was smack
in the middle of their land, and it was claimed Don Miguel Peralta
had been driven off “his” grant by the Apache. This was why
Hopkins report, like all good historical scholarship, could only say
that after a cursory examination there was nothing to disprove the
legality of the grant.
James Reavis (above), of course, took much more
forceful interpretation of the report. He and Cryil Baratt began
spreading the rumor that the American government was about to offer
him $100 million for the Grant. And given Huntington and Croker's
political friends in Washington, that was not impossible. Reavis had
already refused to sell another right-away, similar to the one
Huntington's Southern Pacific had bought, to the competing Texas and
Pacific Railroad, which was trying to fulfill James Gadsden old dream
of connecting the southern states to the Pacific ocean. With land
rights in Arizona now uncertain, the banks withdrew their support for
the Texas and Pacific, and progress on that railroad ground to a halt
Meanwhile Reavis' bodyguard, Pedro
Cuervo had recruited a small army of thugs who were shaking down
every farmer, rancher, miner, home and business owner in Arizona for
anything from $1,000 to a free meal for an immediate quitclaim on
their properties. Many paid up. Those who resisted found their
businesses vandalized, their employees beaten, crops and barns burned
and wells fouled. There was even trouble from an activist newspaper
man named Tom Weedin, editor of the Florence Enterprise” in Pinal
County, about 40 miles southeast of Phoenix. Reavis offered him the
standard bribe, and when Weedin said no, his offices were burned to
the ground. But Weedin responded by forming an “Anti-Reavis”
committee, to raise money to oppose his thugs in court. Other
committees sprang up in Phoenix, Tucson and Tempe. To Weedin it felt
like rowing against the tide. Cuervo's bandits squeezed an estimated
$5.3 million out of Arizona in 1884. Organized crime had been turned
loose on the libertarian wonderland of the Old West, where almost
everybody carried a gun. And contrary to modern theory, the result
was that citizens were left screaming for government activism – and
immediately!
Reavis was feeling confident enough to
build himself La Hacienda de Peralta, a fortress with a nine foot
wall enclosing servants quarters, stables, barns, a well, and a ten
room redwood and brick mansion (above), with running water. He laid it out
just south of the ruins of Casa Granda, about 80 miles south of
Phoenix and about 60 miles north of the Mexican border - should a
quick escape be required. He called it Arizola, and began referring
to himself as the Baron de Arizona.
The only trouble was a lawsuit filed by
the Territorial Attorney General, Clark Churchill, claiming that
Reavis had no right to property owned by the Territory of Arizona,
because he lacked clear title to the grant. It was the weak point in
Reavis' claim, and in May of 1885 the court granted clear title to
the Attorney General. The Tucson Citizen newspaper headlined,
“Reavis Nailed Up” In a letter dated May 2, 1885, The Arizona
Land Commissioner, W.A. Sparks, wrote to Surveyor Royal Johnson, “The
essential foundation of a recognizable claim under the laws of Spain
and the treaties and laws of the United States does not appear in
this case. It is my opinion that the futile work in which you have
been engaged for a year...should forthwith be discontinued.”
Johnson agreed, writing back that he hoped “...the many schemes
concocted by bad men...will now cease....(and) we shall have no
further connection with this grant.”
Almost over night, income from the
shakedowns for quitclaims dried up and Cuervo's thugs returned to
whatever they had been doing before Cuervo had hired them. Feeling
the ground shifting under his feet, Reavis caught a Southern Pacific
train for California. James Reavis was looking for more support t
from his financial backers, Huntington and Crocker. Another ally did
appear, when George Hearst, new owner of the San Francisco Examiner,
and father to William Randolph Hearst, decided to back Reavis with
favorable publicity in his paper. But Mr. Crocker warned that the weak
point remained the 1864 bill of sale to George Willing. It had been
written on a scrap of paper, and, frankly Mr Huntington had doubts it
would stand up in any court. Didn't Reavis have anything stronger?
Once again, as had happened so many
times before in this story, James Reavis did have something stronger.
He had a little lady he had met on a train back in 1871. Reavis had
stayed in contact with her, exchanging letters, and even sending her
to finishing school. And now she was right where and when Reavis
needed her to be, and she was even who he needed her to be; Sofia
Peralta, sole surviving heir to the Peralta Land Grant.
- 30 -
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