Desert Book - Desert Magazine of the Southwest

CORONADO
NATIONAL
MEMORIAL
By PHYLLIS W. HEALD
7HE SUN was setting behind the
Sierra de Pinitos of Sonora,
Mexico, and the Patagonia
Mountains of Southern Arizona as I
stood on Coronado Peak in the recently
created Coronado National
Memorial.
A breath-taking panorama lay before
me. Here, at the southern tip of
the Huachuca Mountains, at an elevation
of 6880 feet—highest point in the
Memorial—-one can see from east to
west for a distance of more than 100
miles; south into Mexico for another
100 miles; and north to the Santa Rita
Mountains that fringe the Santa Cruz
Valley in which Tucson is situated.
I have never ceased to marvel at
this tremendous vista. Its pastoral
beauty has an exciting place in history,
for it was down the wide Sonoran valley
to the south that the opening scene
in the dramatic story of our great West
took place. Along this route, 81 years
before the Pilgrims stepped onto
Plymouth Rock, came the first white
MARCH, 1959
men to walk upon the land now known
as Arizona.
Together, Southwestern United
States and Northern Mexico bask in
a fascinating limelight of the past.
This story of discovery and development
combines the romance of fiction
with the realism of fact. During the
300 and more years from 1539, when
Fray Marcos de Niza, guided by the
Negro, Estevan, came north from Mexico
City looking for the Seven Cities
of Cibola, to the Gadsden Purchase of
1853, Southwest history was made by
Indians, padres, soldiers, explorers,
trappers, hunters, settlers, gold seekers
and ranchers. But in all these
years, no name stands out with more
clarity and courage than that of Francisco
Vasquez de Coronado.
It is fitting and proper that in honor
of this young man (Coronado was
only 30 years old when he made his
famous exploration) a monument was
dedicated in the southeast corner of
Arizona — 2745 acres of canyon,
mountain and grazing land along the
Mexican border. Established in 1952
by Presidential Proclamation and
named Coronado National Memorial,
it is one of the newest members
of the National Park System dedicated
to the "scenic, scientific and historic
heritage of the United States for the
benefit and enjoyment of its people."
The view from Coronado Peak always
has appealed to me for a second
reason. I get a thrill from looking into
another country. I find it stimulating
to realize that less than a mile from
where I stand, a foreign world exists
—a place where people have a way
of life, language and heritage different
from mine.
Common Border
The fence on the International Border
which cuts its straight course over
valleys and hills, is used for mutual
protection and not as a barrier to separate
Mexico from the United States.
As neighbors we respect and share
many things. Our border economy is
mutually beneficial. We worship the
same God. We love the same rolling
country and we use the water from
rivers that flow back and forth across
the border. We enjoy the sun that
shines impartially upon us and we are
proud of our two lands.
Memorial Superintendent Philip
Welles is a natural for his job. Raised
in Chihuahua, Mexico, where his
father had interests in mining and
lumbering, it was a matter of good
timing that he is a native of this country.
His mother made the long difficult
trip from the interior of Mexico to
her home in Pennsylvania for this important
event. "The revolution had
stirred up so much trouble," Philip
explained, "Mother wanted me born
in a place where there was no lead
flying."
When Mrs. Welles returned to San
Pedro Madera with the baby, their
Mexican friends immediately referred
to him as "Felipe," and today Welles
answers to either Philip or Felipe with
equal alacrity.
Bilingual
Welles, having spent most of his
childhood in Mexico, is bilingual. His
Spanish has the beautifully soft and
liquid quality that makes it such a
charming language to hear. And, being
Superintendent of a Memorial
where 25 to 30 percent of its visitors
are of Mexican descent, this is a tremendous
advantage both of convenience
and diplomacy. Nothing makes
foreign visitors feel more at ease than
to hear their own tongue spoken with
perfection.
The Revolution of 1929 forced Mr.
Welles, Sr., to leave Mexico. The
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