In order to survive economically, many descendants of the original New Mexican settlers found it convenient to separate themselves from Mexicans.
Many settlers considered themselves Hispanos or Spanish Americans, as distinguished from other Mexicans. Our ancestors rationalized that they were the descendants of the original settlers, who were Spanish conquistadors. According to our family history, New Mexico was isolated from the rest of the Southwest and Mexico during the colonial era; thus, we remained racially pure and were Europeans, in contrast to the mestizo (half-breed) Mexicans.
The people that settled in North Central New Mexico brought with them the Spanish traditions and culture, as they established boundaries to separate land by using landmarks such a tree line, a river, the famous acquias, or just simple stacking boulders on a straight horizontal line (lindero).
Jose Manuel Rodarte had settled in the area decades before all this changes were taking place. Most of the settlers made as their homestead the lands north of the Rio Grande, and they became owners of large tracks of land which have been passed on down to future generations.
Most of the men in Northern New Mexico, in order to be able to purchase goods not available to them, had no choice but to travel to the state of Wyoming, several hundred miles north of the territory of New Mexico. They were employed by sheep ranchers for months at a time, came home for a few months, cleared the land for farming, and went back. They were paid good money to take care of hundreds of sheep. Most of the families in the area were self-sufficient. My grandfather traveled north to the state of Wyoming, shepherding country, and worked his way up to foreman in a short period. He had the advantage over the rest of his comrades since he had an education and could translate well. Francisco Rodarte graduated from Menaul High School in 1915. He was able to read well in English as well as Spanish and would translate for the owners of the ranches: the Cobys and the Daytons, to mention only a few. As I was growing up, I recall the stories my grandfather would tell, and I never forgot them. My grandfather was an entrepreneur; he was well read and well versed on state and local affairs. After working in the state of Wyoming for a several years, he was able to put away some money and decided to open a business.
In 1947, my grandfather and my father, Julio Rodarte, applied for a liquor license from the state of New Mexico, and it was granted. They started a liquor business in a small building not bigger than a twelve-by-twelve room. It was constructed from material that was available to them at the time. Electricity was not in place at the time, and a generator was used to produce electricity. The business was prosperous and later on expended. The war was over, and servicemen were returning home. Business was good, and a bigger building was constructed. It was big enough to have a bar and dance hall, and mostly every weekend they had a dance, either a wedding dance or just a regular dance. Luxuries were limited during this era. We had electricity, but no inside plumbing. Fuel and wood were the main source of heating. People would travel on horse-driven wagons or on horseback, and a few walked to the dances on Saturday night.
It was February 6, 1950, in the village of Rodarte, New Mexico, that another statistics was recorded. I was born the seventh child to Mr. and Mrs. Julio Rodarte II. We were a growing family. I was the seventh of ten children. We grew up with the same traditions as our forefathers, with close family ties, culture, and always believing in “la tierra, la famila, la culturia y lafe.” At an early age, I was schooled in the family shores, for everyone was needed to be self-sufficient.
At seven years of age, I started the first grade along with my sisters and brother in a one-classroom school by the name of Sanchez School in Rodarte, New Mexico. We were about twenty students ranging from first grade to six graders, and only one teacher, no plumbing, and our source of heating was wood. All the students attending Sanchez School lived within walking distance from the school. At noon, we walked home for lunch. After we completed third grade, the small one-classroom school was shut down, and student were bussed to the main public school in Peñasco, New Mexico. At the time, we had the choice of attending public school or attending the parochial school, which was run by the Dominican sisters and the Catholic Church.
Early Childhood and Adolescence in Northern New Mexico
I attended the parochial school from third grade to the seventh grade and then transferred to the public school in Penasco. A Saint Anthony school bus would pick up all students attending parochial school. I chose to attend the public school in Penasco, New Mexico, because I got in trouble for speaking Spanish on school grounds.
One spring morning, as we were coming in from recess; and as I entered the classroom, I made a remark in Spanish. I had heard this “saying” somewhere, and I thought I would repeat it: “Pancho Villa pier do a sue vieja en la mantiquea.” The entire class, third and fourth grade, thought it was hilarious. We were all from the surrounding communities, and our primary language was Spanish.
The Dominican sister was from Michigan, and their goal was to teach us English. To my surprise, and I suppose to everyone else, they didn’t understand Spanish, so she assumed that I was making fun of her, or she thought I had made a remark about her. She took me outside the classroom and scolded me and asked me to translate what I had said. To her surprise, I couldn’t, and it wouldn’t make sense in English if I was able to. I kept quiet and wouldn’t say a word. As the Spanish people from the village would say, “En boca serada no entra mosque.” In other words, if you keep your mouth shut, nothing comes in and nothing goes out. She got so frustrated and insisted that I needed to call my parents to the school grounds for a conference. For fear of being punished by my parents, I didn’t say anything to them. She kept asking me when my parents would be coming, and I would ignore the question. She finally gave up and approached my sister, who was a couple of grades ahead of me to relay the message to my parents. She was instructed to relay the message, and if she didn’t, it would be a mortal sin. For fear of having a mortal sin in her record and not qualifying for the gates of heaven, she had no choice but to tell my parents. Do people have to use religion to justify equality and justice? I thought for sure that I was going to get a good beating, but to my surprise, I was asked why they were being called for a conference, so I explained. My parents attended the conference, and I was asked by the nun to repeat what I had said, so I did, and it was kind of funny to my parents. I was only repeating what I had heard.
The nun asked my parents to translate what I had said, but in English, it lost its meaning. My parents translated, but it had no meaning.
A few days later, the nun told the class that there were eleven commandments. It was kind of strange to hear the nun say there were eleven commandments because all along, we had been taught only ten. She stated there are eleven commandments; the eleventh commandment is, “Thou shall not speak Spanish on school grounds.” It seemed to me that it was her problem and hers alone. A thought erupted in my mind as to why should I be blamed for her ignorance. I was trying my best to learn English. I attended the nun school for three years only, and soon after this confrontation, I transferred to the Penasco Independent Schools.
Early Childhood and Adolescence in Northern New Mexico
Growing up in Northern New Mexico was a blessing, although we didn’t appreciate it when we were young. We took everything for granted, I suppose, because we didn’t know any better. We had many chores, and our time was of great value. We didn’t have time to be bored. We all spoke fluent Spanish with close ties to the Catholic Church and la famila. We had farm animals to feed and attend to, a garden in the summer, pasture land to cultivate, as well as making sure we had plenty of wood for the cold winter months. In my family, everyone had a certain chore to attend to since we were self-sufficient. The boys took care of the outside chores, and the girls took care of the home chores.
At the age of seven, I had a responsibility assigned to me other than the chores at home in the summer: it was to take care of the fifty plus sheep my father had. My older brother and I had to herd the sheep to the nearby mountains where my father and grandfather