I recently stumbled across an online
repository of digital article reprints collecting local history
stories originally printed in El Defensor Chieftain,
the venerable twice weekly
source of news for the residents of Socorro, New Mexico.
I won't bother trying to catalog the maze of hyper-linked
rabbit holes that brought me to the website, though I will grant you
that I probably should have been spending my time more productively.
In any case, I learned some interesting things about what I consider
my home town.
Born in Virginia, my folks moved to the
high desert when I was three. My first and haziest memories are of
scenes and events in the east, but for all practical purposes I grew
up in Socorro, completely unaware of and uninterested in the
historical significance of anything I saw around me. Sure, I
dutifully went on field trips to the San Miguel Mission, built
between 1615 and 1626 (the church was founded in 1598, but the
original building was replaced starting in 1615), and looked through
the glass at the example of the original adobe, but I don't recall
being particularly excited by it. I suppose that is the natural
order of youth. The significance of the past pales against the
prospects of the afternoon.
But San Miguel never held reign as the
only historical building of note in Socorro, some of which were never
recognizable to me as anything more than blight. Like the
multi-storied structure east of California Street on the south side
of town? Turns out it had been a flour mill, the Crown Mill, first
opened for business in 1893 in an environment dominated by two
existing mill operations. The mill flourished for a time, but fell
victim to the vagaries of capitalism and the market power of Pillsbury.
The Crown Mill closed in 1938. Other businesses operated from the
building up until 1965. I only knew the building as an example of
industrial ruin, a structure subject to rumor. Kids I knew in turn
knew other kids (always several times removed) who had broken into
the mill, reportedly finding the place booby trapped and inhabited by
a crazy man who leered out at them from behind a pile of rubbish—or
perhaps bones. It turns out a local man bought the building in 2003,
and has since done some renovation, rebuilding the third story and
roof which had fallen into disrepair. I hope he made provisions for
the crazy man. You hate to see gentrification chase out a
neighborhood's original residents.
I was most interested in an article
detailing the long history of the Capitol Bar. The Cap sits today on
the plaza where it did when first built in 1896, Socorro's only
surviving bar from back when New Mexico was a territory. I had a
vague awareness of the place growing up as a den of iniquity near the
Junior High and Edward's barbershop, but never saw the interior prior
to a remodel following a fire in 1993. Now it has been bestowed the
honor of “Bucket List Bar” but none other than YouTube
contributor “drunkenhistory.” If there is a higher honor, I know
it not. There were two points in the article, however, that I found
particularly striking.
First, the article notes that as of its
publication date (2010), the Capitol was one of only three bars left
in Socorro (the other two being the Roadrunner Lounge and the Matador
Lounge at the El Camino, but a quick online search suggests the
Roadrunner may have since closed). Are you seriously telling me that
Socorro can't support more than three (maybe two) bars? What
happened to the rest? And in particular, what happened to that
sketchy little bar west of California Street on the south side of
town, kind of across from the then-deteriorating Crown Mill? The
little rectangle of a building, made out of cinder blocks, with a
dark door and seemingly no electricity? This place too was subject
to rumor amongst the kids. There it was rumored that murder occurred
nightly (most of which must have gone unreported; looking back I do
not recall reading about these frequent killings in the Chieftain).
Indeed, you were guaranteed to, at the very least, be stabbed, if
not shot, within minutes of walking through the dark doors. Maybe
the rumors were true, which would account for its closure. It is
hard to build a stable clientele if you keep knocking them off soon
after they pass through the doors.
Second, the article told the story of
the Emillio family, which was involved in the
Socorro bar business from the repeal of prohibition until
approximately 1960, at which time the son, Willie Emillio, decided to
try his hand in other lines or work. Notably, the local college, the
New Mexico School of Mining and Technology, made Willie an honorary
member of the alumni association, and on his death Willie left the
school money to start a scholarship fund in his name. All of which suggests the
Tech students were perhaps spending more time (and money) at the Capitol
than they were in their classes. Having spent time as a student in
geology programs at three different schools, I can just think that,
yes, that sounds about right. So, next time I'm in Socorro I'll need
to stop in for a beer. And I will expect to see the geology students
working away on homework, absorbing (I'm sure) the historical
significance of the place.
