Essays

Moseying: Living La Vida Llanero

West Texas has always been home to big spreads
January 25, 2006

“A tobacconist, a fellow that sells cheap cigarettes to China and third-world countries, has bought hundreds of thousands of acres in west Texas. The Escuela Ranch south of Ft. Stockton has grown to over 800,000 acres, and of course Ted Turner has over a million acres in northeast New Mexico, a million in Wyoming, and another million in Arizona. Another fellow owns close to a million acres in northeastern New Mexico, too. The CF ranch not only has several ranches locally, but they own a housing development, and this restaurant, too. The fellow that has spent 70 million bucks or more at Lajitas is another example of extremely wealthy people reshaping local economies. And the Amazon.com guy is talking of putting a spaceport in around the Van Horn area.” My dinner partner leaned back, as we ate pecan encrusted salmon at the upscale Reata Restaurant in Alpine, Texas. His employer owns over a half-million acres nationwide, and is aggressively pursuing more.

“Some of the big land owners make a major impact on their surroundings. Others just buy up land and seem to hunker down and try to stay out of the public eye. But, with the efforts of all of those people, plus the folks that have reinvented Marfa and Marathon – things are changing rapidly. The CF ranch owner is a polished CEO, growing wealth through inter-related “income streams” as he calls them. His efforts are more public and more wide ranging than the Escuela owner or the tobacconist, but the Lajitas jefe is another one that is “in your face” with the visible presence of his expenditures. This has created rejuvenated towns that are in such striking opposition to towns like Snyder and Colorado City and Stamford that have been shrinking and crumbling for decades now.” He stopped talking and ordered a costly high-dollar tequila.

I pitched in with a philosophic observation. “The local economies are not based on intrinsic things anymore… not ranching, not even tourism, to a large degree. Much of the economy here is based on the spending power of people that have decided to own land or business real estate in the region. I just saw a top-dollar Learjet parked at the Marfa airport, for example.”

I thought back to earlier that day, to a conversation with some other folks in town. We had briefly talked about the history of the region. That conversation 8 hours earlier led to what I then said at the dinner table.

“It seems like this region has always been the realm of fiefdoms, on both sides of the border.” I took another bite of the salmon, and then continued. “You could make a case that each strong Indian leader was a similar “lord of the realm,” as it were. Robert Neighbors, Rip Ford, Charles Bartlett, and others wrote of Chief Gomez of the Mescalero Apache that “expected a toll” from the passing wagon trains on the Chihuahua Trail or on the road to El Paso in the 1840s. Alsate used to swoop down out of the Chisos and Chinati Mountains for similar “honorifics.” I paused, then continued, “The early settlers established fiefdoms – Milton Faver with his three ranches near Presidio, for example. And before that, Ben Leaton with his big dreams and faked Spanish land grants. There has been some immense ranches in this region over the years.”

Our old friend grimaced and then nodded. “Think of Terrazas south of the Rio – he controlled millions of acres and was governor of the state. His family still is the power to be reckoned with in the state of Chihuahua. The jefes of today don’t charge us to drive down the roads, but woe to a trespasser upon the kingdom if you cross a fence without permission – and that strikes me just a mite similar to the Apaches.” My dinner partner seems to get a bit more grumpier and cynical as the years pass, and as his hair grays.

He continued, “People say the region is becoming a new interpretation on Sante Fe – with its trends of art galleries, appropriate technology-based housing, and its high-end aspirations. I agree…but not approvingly. This region is becoming a new franchise in the homogenous global theme park of McWorld. In McWorld the only thing that is paramount is the wants and needs of consumers. Hundreds of people are working in Lajitas at the whim of a rich man who can spend money until the day he dies… or when he might get bored and walk away. What is being created is not rooted, so it will not survive more than a year beyond the day the money-tap is turned off.” He shrugged and waved at the waitress, and ordered another top-shelf tequila.

He then added, “You remember the scenes between Heraclito and Domingo in Jose Antonio Villareal’s book “The Fifth Horseman”? The rich man toying with the young peon? That book was set a hundred years ago, just before the Mexican Revolution – and I hear Domingo in my head every time I swing a land deal for my bosses. I am a puppet, getting jerked this way and that. When you belong to McWorld you are but the agent of a whim, even if well-paid in middle class standards.” My friend slumped in his chair, his chin on his chest.

I grinned at him, and then chided him. “So, retire. Live simply – but you won’t, will you? You like the adrenalin rush of playing the games you are hired to perform. You are good at it. You are just tired this evening.” I leaned back and contemplated how time changes people – he and I have followed quite different paths in a friendship begun long ago. I signaled the waitress to refill my ice tea.