Old Adobe Home, Santa Fe, NM. Photo by Andrea Garza, Flickr.
I didn’t realize when I moved to the old East Side in Santa Fe 31 years ago that I was going to be living in an all-white, upper-class, English-speaking neighborhood where an old adobe now sells for between two and three million dollars. I soon learned that my house and all the neighboring houses were once middle-class Spanish-speaking; one of the first stories I heard was from a middle-aged man who recalled riding his bike down my street years ago to see his grandparents’ house long after they’d moved out. The photographer Laura Gilpin, who lived a few houses from me, saw the boys and called the police.
Santa Fe is not unique in being segregated. Most were not planned but simply grew with the population. Nearly always, the south side of town, often “across the tracks,” became the place for working people because the land there was cheaper. Here, it’s desert. In many places, it’s too near a river that will flood or a swamp full of mosquitos. So people of small means took advantage of the cheap land to build their houses and that became “that other part of town,” now home to strip malls and big box stores.
Here, that means a largely Spanish-speaking population, the people who do all the basic work, gardening, house-cleaning, and garbage-collecting, for the north side of town where I live. I have a fine view of the mountains, and since I am at a higher elevation, it’s cooler in the summer.
So segregation by class and/or by race has shaped our towns and also our attitudes towards the people who live there. Now I hear some women say that they never go “south of Rodeo Road.” It’s maybe five miles from where we live, but fear knows nothing about physical distance. It’s always fear of the unknown, the unfamiliar. Since some of the best Mexican food and the only Mexican grocery stores are in that part of town, we are missing something.
I’m fortunate in having a friend who lives “out there.” Managing on a very limited income, it’s the only part of town where he can afford to own a house—and what a house it is! An ancient structure, he has arranged it to suit his particular needs, with a room where he serves his guests his exquisite tea, a kitchen and bedroom sparse but comfortable, an old chapel in the yard, and his ongoing project, building a spa where he hopes one day to attract guests.
But they would have to be willing to go “to that other part of town.”
Some of the best things in life are situated across the tracks. What a shame to miss all of that. I find the most important thing when traveling on either side of tracks is to be respectful of people, their family, business and home. Life is a great adventure.
I had a great-grandmother who was born in a boxcar en route from IA to NE. In later life she acclaimed pride in having been born “on the right side of the tracks.” But not having a birth certificate made it difficult to get a passport. After various attempts to solve the problem an official in the State Department told her how to overcome the snag. He advised of a county in Iowa where the courthouse had burned, and all birth records lost. In that county, a birth certificate replacement could be obtained by having two residents sign affidavits as to witnessing a birth in the county. The advice included the tip that two local bar patrons would probably sign anything in order to get money for more drinks, and the story has it that $10 apiece was effective. (Have I taken Mark Twain’s advice not to let a fact stand in the way of a good story?)
I have lived in Santa Fe since 1982 and have always lived just off of Rodeo or Zia though many friends lived downtown in those first years. I thought it was hilarious when they started calling this area Midtown some 8 years ago or so. It does fit though as I am a 12 minute drive to the Plaza and 8 minutes to Target. Fortunately, I live in a house built in 1983 with Santa Fe styling – vigas, tongue and groove wood ceilings, kiva fireplace, etc. Mine is on a cul de sac off of a dead end street. Quiet and safe.