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Most writers are impressed by three things in the life of Clay Allison: That he had a tooth pulling bout with a dentist; that he rode the streets of Canadian, Texas, clothed only in a gun belt; and that he went back to Tennessee to marry his childhood sweetheart. Perhaps none of these incidents are hardly capable of exciting the imagination of the intelligent reader, but they do tend to set up a curiosity about this famous Western character. Eleven years of research and thirty thousand miles of travel are the props on which the author built this story. It is not surprising that he should come up with a human being who is surprisingly capable of feats more commendable than those other Western legendary characters hit upon by most writers of Western folklore. Exciting tales of gun slingers are not always true tales. Here we find have both combined. "An easterner by birth but a southwesterner at heart, Father Stanley Francis Louis Crocchiola had as many vocations as names," says his biographer, Mary Jo Walker. "As a young man, he entered the Catholic priesthood and for nearly half a century served his church with great zeal in various capacities, attempting to balance the callings of teacher, pastor, historian and writer." With limited money or free time, he also managed to write and publish one hundred and seventy-seven books and booklets pertaining to his adopted region under his nom de plume, F. Stanley. The initial in that name does not stand for Father, as many have assumed, but for Francis, which Louis Crocchiola took, with the name Stanley, at the time of his ordination as Franciscan friar in 1938. All of F. Stanley's titles have now reached the status of expensive collector's items. This new edition in Sunstone's Southwest Heritage Series includes a new foreword by Marc Simmons, an excerpt from F. Stanley's biography by Mary Jo Walker, a tribute to F. Stanley by Jack D. Rittenhouse (also from the biography), and an article on Clay Allison by Norman Cleaveland.

In what follows can be found the doors to a house of words and stories. This house of words and stories is the "Archive of New Mexico" and the doors are each of the documents contained within it. Like any house, New Mexico's archive has a tale of its own origin and a complex history. Although its walls have changed many times, its doors and the encounters with those doors hold stories known and told and others not yet revealed. In the Archives, there are thousands of doors (4,481) that open to a time of kings and popes, of inquisition and revolution. "These archives," writes Ralph Emerson Twitchell, "are by far the most valuable and interesting of any in the Southwest." Many of these documents were given a number by Twitchell, small stickers that were appended to the first page of each document, an act of heresy to archivists and yet these stickers have now become part of the artifact. These are the doors that Ralph Emerson Twitchell opened at the dawn of the 20th century with a key that has served scholars, policy-makers, and activists for generations. In 1914 Twitchell published in two volumes "The Spanish Archives of New Mexico," the first calendar and guide to the documents from the Spanish colonial period. Volume One of the two volumes focuses on the collection known as the "Spanish Archives of New Mexico, Series I," or SANM I, an appellation granted because of Twitchell's original compilation and description of the 1,384 documents identified in the first volume of his series. The Spanish Archives of New Mexico was assembled by the Surveyor General of New Mexico (1854-1891) and the Court of Private Land Claims (1891-1904). The collection consists of civil land records of the Spanish period governments of New Mexico and materials created by the Surveyor General and Court of Private Land Claims during the process of adjudication. It includes the original Spanish colonial petitions for land grants, land conveyances, wills, mine registers, records books, journals, dockets, reports, minutes, letters, and a variety of other legal documents. Each of these documents tell a story, sometimes many stories. The bulk of the records accentuate the amazingly dynamic nature of land grant and settlement policies. While the documents reveal the broad sweep of community settlement and its reverse effect, hundreds of last wills and testaments are included in these records, that are scripted in the most eloquent and spiritual tone at the passing of individuals into death. These testaments also reveal a legacy of what colonists owned and bequeathed to the next generations. Most of the documents are about the geographic, political and cultural mapping of New Mexico, but many reflect the stories of that which is owned both in terms of commodities and human lives. Archives inevitably, and these archives more than most, help to shape current debates about dispossession, the colonial past, and the postcolonial future of New Mexico. For this reason, the task of understanding the role of archives, archival documents, and the kinds of stories that emanate from them has never been more urgent. Let this effort and the key provided by Twitchell in his two volumes open the doors wide for knowledge to be useful today and tomorrow.--From the Foreword by Estevan Rael-Gálvez, New Mexico State Historian

In what follows can be found the doors to a house of words and stories. This house of words and stories is the Archive of New Mexico and the doors are each of the documents contained within it. Like any house, New Mexico's archive has a tale of its own origin and a complex history. Although its walls have changed many times, its doors and the encounters with those doors hold stories known and told and others not yet revealed. In the Archives, there are thousands of doors (4,481) that open to a time of kings and popes, of inquisition and revolution. "These archives," writes Ralph Emerson Twitchell, "are by far the most valuable and interesting of any in the Southwest." Many of these documents were given a number by Twitchell, small stickers that were appended to the first page of each document, an act of heresy to archivists and yet these stickers have now become part of the artifact. These are the doors that Ralph Emerson Twitchell opened at the dawn of the 20th century with a key that has served scholars, policy-makers, and activists for generations. In 1914 Twitchell published in two volumes The Spanish Archives of New Mexico, the first calendar and guide to the documents from the Spanish colonial period. Volume Two of the two volumes focuses on the Spanish Archives of New Mexico, Series II, or SANM II. These 3,087 documents consist of administrative, civil, military, and ecclesiastical records of the Spanish colonial government in New Mexico, 1621-1821. The materials span a broad range of subjects, revealing information about such topics as domestic relations, political intrigue, crime and punishment, material culture, the Camino Real, relations between Spanish settlers and indigenous peoples, the intrusion of Anglo-Americans, and the growing unrest that resulted in Mexico's independence from Spain in 1821. As is the case with Volume One, these documents tell many stories. They reflect, for example, the creation and maintenance of colonial society in New Mexico; itself founded upon the casting and construction of colonizing categories. Decisions made by popes, kings and viceroys thousands of miles away from New Mexico defined the lives of everyday citizens, as did the reports of governors and clergy sent back to their superiors. They represent the history of imperial power, conquest, and hegemony. Indeed, though the stories of indigenous people and women can be found in these documents, it may be fair to assume that not a single one of them was actually scripted by a woman or an American Indian during that time period. But there is another silence in this particular collection and series that is telling. Few pre-Revolt (1680) documents are contained in this collection. While the original colonial archive may well have contained thousands of documents that predate the European settlement of New Mexico in 1598, with the Pueblo Indian Revolt of 1680, all but four of those documents were destroyed. For historians, the tragedy cannot be calculated. Nevertheless, this absence and silence is important in its own right and is a part of the story, told and imagined.Let this effort and the key provided by Twitchell in his two volumes open the doors wide for knowledge to be useful today and tomorrow.--From the Foreword by Estevan Rael-Gálvez, New Mexico State Historian

In what follows can be found the doors to a house of words and stories. This house of words and stories is the "Archive of New Mexico" and the doors are each of the documents contained within it. Like any house, New Mexico's archive has a tale of its own origin and a complex history. Although its walls have changed many times, its doors and the encounters with those doors hold stories known and told and others not yet revealed. In the Archives, there are thousands of doors (4,481) that open to a time of kings and popes, of inquisition and revolution. "These archives," writes Ralph Emerson Twitchell, "are by far the most valuable and interesting of any in the Southwest." Many of these documents were given a number by Twitchell, small stickers that were appended to the first page of each document, an act of heresy to archivists and yet these stickers have now become part of the artifact. These are the doors that Ralph Emerson Twitchell opened at the dawn of the 20th century with a key that has served scholars, policy-makers, and activists for generations. In 1914 Twitchell published in two volumes "The Spanish Archives of New Mexico," the first calendar and guide to the documents from the Spanish colonial period. Volume One of the two volumes focuses on the collection known as the "Spanish Archives of New Mexico, Series I," or SANM I, an appellation granted because of Twitchell's original compilation and description of the 1,384 documents identified in the first volume of his series. The Spanish Archives of New Mexico was assembled by the Surveyor General of New Mexico (1854-1891) and the Court of Private Land Claims (1891-1904). The collection consists of civil land records of the Spanish period governments of New Mexico and materials created by the Surveyor General and Court of Private Land Claims during the process of adjudication. It includes the original Spanish colonial petitions for land grants, land conveyances, wills, mine registers, records books, journals, dockets, reports, minutes, letters, and a variety of other legal documents. Each of these documents tell a story, sometimes many stories. The bulk of the records accentuate the amazingly dynamic nature of land grant and settlement policies. While the documents reveal the broad sweep of community settlement and its reverse effect, hundreds of last wills and testaments are included in these records, that are scripted in the most eloquent and spiritual tone at the passing of individuals into death. These testaments also reveal a legacy of what colonists owned and bequeathed to the next generations. Most of the documents are about the geographic, political and cultural mapping of New Mexico, but many reflect the stories of that which is owned both in terms of commodities and human lives. Archives inevitably, and these archives more than most, help to shape current debates about dispossession, the colonial past, and the postcolonial future of New Mexico. For this reason, the task of understanding the role of archives, archival documents, and the kinds of stories that emanate from them has never been more urgent. Let this effort and the key provided by Twitchell in his two volumes open the doors wide for knowledge to be useful today and tomorrow.--From the Foreword by Estevan Rael-Gálvez, New Mexico State Historian

In what follows can be found the doors to a house of words and stories. This house of words and stories is the Archive of New Mexico and the doors are each of the documents contained within it. Like any house, New Mexico's archive has a tale of its own origin and a complex history. Although its walls have changed many times, its doors and the encounters with those doors hold stories known and told and others not yet revealed. In the Archives, there are thousands of doors (4,481) that open to a time of kings and popes, of inquisition and revolution. "These archives," writes Ralph Emerson Twitchell, "are by far the most valuable and interesting of any in the Southwest." Many of these documents were given a number by Twitchell, small stickers that were appended to the first page of each document, an act of heresy to archivists and yet these stickers have now become part of the artifact. These are the doors that Ralph Emerson Twitchell opened at the dawn of the 20th century with a key that has served scholars, policy-makers, and activists for generations. In 1914 Twitchell published in two volumes The Spanish Archives of New Mexico, the first calendar and guide to the documents from the Spanish colonial period. Volume Two of the two volumes focuses on the Spanish Archives of New Mexico, Series II, or SANM II. These 3,087 documents consist of administrative, civil, military, and ecclesiastical records of the Spanish colonial government in New Mexico, 1621-1821. The materials span a broad range of subjects, revealing information about such topics as domestic relations, political intrigue, crime and punishment, material culture, the Camino Real, relations between Spanish settlers and indigenous peoples, the intrusion of Anglo-Americans, and the growing unrest that resulted in Mexico's independence from Spain in 1821. As is the case with Volume One, these documents tell many stories. They reflect, for example, the creation and maintenance of colonial society in New Mexico; itself founded upon the casting and construction of colonizing categories. Decisions made by popes, kings and viceroys thousands of miles away from New Mexico defined the lives of everyday citizens, as did the reports of governors and clergy sent back to their superiors. They represent the history of imperial power, conquest, and hegemony. Indeed, though the stories of indigenous people and women can be found in these documents, it may be fair to assume that not a single one of them was actually scripted by a woman or an American Indian during that time period. But there is another silence in this particular collection and series that is telling. Few pre-Revolt (1680) documents are contained in this collection. While the original colonial archive may well have contained thousands of documents that predate the European settlement of New Mexico in 1598, with the Pueblo Indian Revolt of 1680, all but four of those documents were destroyed. For historians, the tragedy cannot be calculated. Nevertheless, this absence and silence is important in its own right and is a part of the story, told and imagined.Let this effort and the key provided by Twitchell in his two volumes open the doors wide for knowledge to be useful today and tomorrow.--From the Foreword by Estevan Rael-Gálvez, New Mexico State Historian

In 1826 a seventeen-year-old Christopher "e;Kit"e; Carson ran away from his job as apprentice to a saddler in Franklin, Missouri and joined a merchant caravan bound for Santa Fe in the far Southwest. The flight marked his entry into the pages of history. In the decades that followed, Carson gained renown as a trapper, hunter, guide, rancher, army courier, Indian agent, and military officer. Along the way, his varied career as a frontiersman elevated him to the status of a national hero, on a par with Daniel Boone. In 1856, while at home with his family in Taos, New Mexico, Kit (being illiterate) dictated his autobiography, which dealt with the innumerable adventures he had experienced to that point. However, some of the most significant episodes in his life would unfold in the ensuing years, leading up to his death in 1868. Since Taos artist and writer Blanche Chloe Grant first edited and published the Carson manuscript in 1926, it has become the central source for all subsequent biographers. In 1935 Milo Milton Quaife annotated another edition under the title of "e;Kit Carson's Autobiography,"e; published by Lakeside Press of Chicago, and afterward reprinted by the University of Nebraska Press. Western historian Harvey Lewis Carter followed suit with publication of the most heavily edited version yet, with his "e;'Dear Old Kit': The Historical Christopher Carson"e; (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1968). Sunstone Press by electing to bring back into print Miss Grant's original 1926 book, regarded perhaps as the handiest of the three published versions, calls attention anew to this pioneering memoir of the celebrated Kit Carson.

Miguel Antonio Otero (1859-1944) not only distinguished himself as a political leader in New Mexico and lived out his life as a champion of the people, but he is also highly recognized for his career as an author. He published his legendary "e;My Life on the Frontier, 1864-1882,"e; in 1935, followed by "e;The Real Billy the Kid: With New Light on the Lincoln County War"e; in 1936, "e;My Life on the Frontier, 1882-1897"e; in 1939, and "e;My Nine Years as Governor of the Territory of New Mexico, 1897-1906"e; in 1940. These books, of which this is one in Sunstone's Southwest Heritage Series, are filled with the raw power and intrigue of the Wild West written by one who lived it. One would expect no less from such a vibrant personality who filled the pages of his monumental history with the passionate memories of an exciting era. Otero was born in St. Louis, Missouri. His father, who bore the same name, and who was born in Valencia, New Mexico in 1829, had built up a stellar career in the East. Miguel Antonio Otero, Jr. was brought up in a family of wealth and influence, but he also experienced the hardships of growing up in a household that was always on the move. His family's sojourns took him from one town to another across Missouri, Kansas, Colorado, and New Mexico. During Miguel A. Otero's travels and frequent stopovers in Wild Western towns he came into contact with notorious outlaws like Clay Allison and popular lawmen such as Wild Bill Hickok, Pat Garrett, Elfego Baca, and other well known figures including Doc Holliday, William F. Cody ("e;Buffalo Bill"e;), General George A. Custer, and frontiersman Christopher "e;Kit"e; Carson. In fact, Otero was such an adventurous soul that he always sought out, or was in close contact with, anyone making headlines during the turbulent era he lived in. He even published a short lived newspaper called the "e;Otero Optic,"e; which eventually became the "e;Las Vegas Daily Optic."e; He began his illustrious career in politics as Las Vegas City Clerk, San Miguel County probate clerk, county clerk, and recorder, and district court clerk. Then in 1892 President William McKinley appointed Miguel Antonio Otero as governor of the New Mexico territory where he served until 1906.

The long, uneasy armistice between two world wars was a trying time for literary artists, particularly for those young men who came to maturity in that period of economic and social upheaval. Oliver La Farge's frank and honest personal narrative is a typical life of one born into the easy world of Newport, New York, Groton, and Harvard, dumped into the melting pot of the Great Depression, and then slammed up against the global war. His purpose "e;to record the America of one individual"e; and to set down the raw material from which the writer derives the finished product he offers to the world, is vividly fulfilled in this book. In an Appreciation appearing in this new edition, John Pen La Farge says: "e;In his autobiography, "e;Raw Material,"e; Father wrote a superior account of one man's life. As Mother pointed out, it was superior because it was not a mere accounting of what, when, how, and in what order, rather, it was the account of how the raw material of one boy grew into a man, a man whose life both displayed and sought out true integrity."e;

From 1950 until just before his death in 1963, Pulitzer Prize winner (for Laughing Boy) Oliver La Farge wrote weekly columns for The Santa Fe New Mexican-a total of some 350,000 words. A collection of these writings was edited in 1966 by his friend, Winfield Townley Scott and published as "e;The Man With the Calabash Pipe."e; As Scott says in his introduction, "e;Though often in the background, and with much said relevant to anywhere in America, a strong sense of place permeates these essays, whatever their matter. The Southwest in general, Santa Fe in particular, became his locus classicus-or his pulpit."e; Sometimes the "e;observations"e; that take place in some of the pieces in this collection are between La Farge and his alter ego, the "e;Man With the Calabash Pipe,"e; thus the title of the book, and they are marvels of rueful humor. In others the author enjoys his talks with his imaginary friend, Horned Husband Kachina Chief from Awatovi. In writing about Santa Fe, La Farge scolded, reprimanded, corrected, reminded, berated, bemoaned, rejoiced in, and urged on the town in a dozen moods, always out of a fierce devotion. His comments on "e;Writing the Language"e; are salutatory as well as amusing. Then, in and out of these essays wanders that Man With the Calabash Pipe-a sardonic bachelor who refuses to light his heater since a likeable mouse is in residence underneath it. Scott continues, "e;...I think any reader who never had to the luck to know Oliver La Farge will touch the man as nowhere else in his work save perhaps that revealing autobiography, Raw Material; and will be touched and will come to feel the overtones of a unique, complex individual."e;

This is the true story, told in fictional form, of one of the greatest of all American Indian chiefs, Cochise of the Chiricahua Apaches. Indians were once thought of as warlike, and the encroaching white men as wanting peace, but it was the white men who forced Cochise into war against his will. History tells us that Cochise and his tiny band of warriors not only held the United States Army at bay for more than ten years, but they were often on the offensive. It is a heroic and extraordinary story. The story ends with the equally extraordinary way in which peace was made, when Major General Howard, the bible-reading soldier, and Cochise, the religious-minded warrior, found that they could trust each other. The many illustrations are by L. F. Bjorklund, well-known for the accuracy of his interpretation of Indian scenes.

When Lincoln County Sheriff Pat Garrett ended Billy the Kid''s life on the night of July 14, 1881 with a shot in the dark, he was catapulted at once into stardom in the annals of Western history. The killing occurred at old Fort Sumner, New Mexico on the Pecos River. Garrett by pure chance had encountered the Kid in a darkened room of the Pete Maxwell house. As the unsuspecting Billy entered, he was cut down without warning. But the Kid had his share of friends and many of them stepped forward to level some harsh criticism against the lawman. It soon became clear that while Pat Garrett was an instant celebrity, he had also come away, at least in some quarters, with a negative image. To address that problem, he began thinking about a book to give the public his side of the story. The editor of the "Santa Fe New Mexican," Charles Greene, offered to publish a Garrett volume if the sheriff could find someone to ghost write it for him. Pat enlisted his good friend Marshall Ashmun (Ash) Upson, a journalist, to do the job. Upson cranked out a manuscript and it was published in 1882 under the title "The Authentic Life of Billy the Kid." Sunstone''s edition is a facsimile of the 1927 edition. Before that fateful night in 1881, there was not much in Pat Garrett''s career to suggest he was headed for a place in the history books. Alabama-born in 1850, he worked as a cowboy and buffalo hunter in Texas. By 1878 he had drifted to the Pecos in eastern New Mexico. Perhaps craving excitement, Pat Garrett ran for sheriff of wild Lincoln County in the fall of 1880. He was elected. Winning the office put him on a collision course with the outlaw Billy and the incident that catapulted the Kid into literary immortality.

The Maxwell Land Grant was an immense parcel of land in New Mexico and Colorado with a history that began when the area was a colony of Spain and ended only in the twentieth century. In this volume, published originally in an edition of 250 numbered and signed copies, F. Stanley (Father Stanley Francis Louis Crocchiola) takes on the task of telling the complex story. In his foreword, Stanley says: "Look in vain for another section of land in the nation that produced so much comment from the press or absorbed the attention of the entire world. Because of this bit of land a Supreme Court Justice almost lost his life; a president of the United States wanted to horse-whip a man; a minister was looked upon as a killer; a cattle man became a killer; vigilantes rode into the night burning and killing; and the Anti-Grant War was waged in two states taking more lives than the Lincoln County War that brought Billy the Kid his fame." Stanley has been faulted for his scholarship and for stylistic flaws that are probably reflections of the speed it took him to publish the amazing number of books and pamphlets he produced. His narrative is chatty and anecdotal, with few of the accoutrements of establishment history. Still, he has mined newspapers, trial transcripts, and a variety of documents to produce a broad account of the area. He includes chapters on ghost towns as well as "living" towns, the railroads, Indians on the grant, and a full chapter on Clay Allison, whom Stanley regarded as a more interesting character than Billy the Kid. The original edition is probably the scarcest of Stanley''s books. "An easterner by birth but a southwesterner at heart, Father Stanley Francis Louis Crocchiola had as many vocations as names," says his biographer, Mary Jo Walker. "As a young man, he entered the Catholic priesthood and for nearly half a century served his church with great zeal in various capacities, attempting to balance the callings of teacher, pastor, historian and writer." With limited money or free time, he also managed to write and publish one hundred and seventy-seven books and booklets pertaining to his adopted region under his "nom de plume," F. Stanley, The initial in that name does not stand for Father, as many have assumed, but for Francis, which Louis Crocchiola took, with the name Stanley, at the time of his ordination as Franciscan friar in 1938. All of F. Stanley''s titles have now reached the status of expensive collector''s items.