Tales of the Family…The Paternal Grandfather of Milton, Norman, and David

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     The Newton line entered into Boston Harbour in 1643 or 1644.  There were two or three brothers.   They were people with some…not massive amounts…but some significant resources.   One was a Congregationalist Preacher, and the other two were businessmen who were lured by the openings of property, businesses, banking, and such.  They were involved in the foundation of the city of Newton, Massachusetts.
     Some of the Newtons became commercialists and investors…land speculators…and the like.  One was a minister of the cloth, although we have record that he was a Congregationalist and an Anglican officiant.   The Old North Church, the one with the lanterns indicating "…one if by land and two if by sea…" had a Newton-surnamed ancestor as an officiant.
     All of the OROGs and other readers of this terribly interesting blog must be impressed that a city was named for the Newtons…especially since it was only seven or eight miles from Boston, where there was already a great burg being elaborated.   BUT! Please be aware that the name of the community now known as Newton was originally Cambridge…and the Newton name was entered in 1766 as the official monicker of the community, 122 years after the arrival of the my Newtons.

     Various elements of those Newtons who came into Massachusetts stayed and helped make  great a Colony to the favour of his Majesty back in London.  Others struck forth to Maine, Vermont, and New Hampshire…as those places were surveyed and dispersed into the very English common law system of titled property…decent treatment by the Crown…in spite of the disorders at and around the time of King Charles 1.    Would that everything had been perfect at that time and later.  Would not that have been…loverly?

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     The War Between the States was the costliest war effort fought by the United States of America, both in terms of lucre and in terms of the number of dead and wounded.   The separation between the two nations…the North and the South…along with the peculiar out-men…Texas, and the Cherokee and Chickasaw allies of the Confederacy…has never really been resolved.

     To-day perhaps it is easier to just not be bothered by it.  Most American students cannot tell a questioner whether the First World War followed or preceded the Second World War…nor do they know which World was involved.   They are certain that the enemies in those wars were Australia and Bogata…or somebody.  It is hard for them to remember all the names of Father Obamaham's fifty-seven (57) States in the American Union.

     My grandfather Norman N. Newton (we never learned what the initial 'N' stood for, but it showed up in the 1860 census when he was an infant), was born in 1860.  Even this date is disputed but we feel it is certain because of the family tale that was told that Norman could remember his two much older half-brothers as Christmas Dinner in 1862.   This leads immediately to the possibility that he was told about it and developed a memory of it, but…he was a powerfully intelligent person.  It would be reasonable to assume that his precocity allowed him to be more than able to delve into the recesses of his mind during later years and fully recall this Christmas event.
     Please remember another thing.  For twenty years after that horrid War, there were always men in view who were missing members (legs, arms, etc.).  Always.
     They began to thin out after the turn of the Century until finally the last Veteran died…a Confederate soldier from Texas…in 1953, if I recall correctly.   He made the cover of the LIFE Magazine.

     In the case of Norman N. Newton, however, he did not have relatives who were wounded or whole veterans to entertain him about their bravery and exploits against the dreaded Stonewall Jackson or the valiant and brilliant Bobbie Lee.  No…because his two oldest brother were killed in action…one on 3 May 1863 at New Salem Church, Virginia when Longstreet lurched out with three divisions of infantry and considerable cavalry and artillery…destination - Gettysburg, Pennsylvania.
      The other was killed without knowledge of what had occurred to his brother before him…on or about the 15th of August 1863.  He was part of a mounted infantry unit sent to harass Lee's rear guard during his retreat into Virginia following the events at Gettysburg.  My Great-uncle and many Yankee valiants learned that Lee's Army of Northern Virginia was wounded, but fully capable of wreaking massive casualties upon the Blue-clad invaders…which they did.

    This caused…over the months…the steady demise of my great-grandfather "Banty" Newton.  He died in 1867 of atrophy of will to live.   He hated Lincoln and always felt that the South and North would have lived apart more amicably had they separated.  Each side would have needed the other more and each side had its strengths.  But Lincoln was determined to have his war…and Hubbard "Banty" Newton was doomed to lose his sons.   His losses, both psychologically and then metabolically, mounted up after a couple of emotional shocks.
  We plough back to the year 1862…which brings up something about the intelligence and precocity of Norman N. Newton.  Grandpa Norman declared to his son (my father) that he remembered clearly the Christmas dinner that included his older brothers, all dressed out in their fancy Union Blues…there was a large and bountiful table. This would have been at the age of two months less than three.  The two older brothers, both members of the Pennsylvania 96th Volunteer Infantry, entering the service at the beginning of the War Between the States…assured everyone that the War would be over before Summer and Lee would be in irons.
     It should be pointed out that the two boys were actually not brothers.  They were actually first cousins.  My grandfather probably never did learn that the younger of the two brothers who were born in the latter period of the decade of the 1830s lost his parents in a carriage accident of some sort.   "Banty" took him in as a father.  We have searched for the particulars concerning my great-grand uncle and his wife…("Banty's" brother, but to no avail at this point).  But, no one in the Newton family ever spoke of Charles's brother as being a true cousin…he was always a brother.

The oldest water-powered mill in the northeastern part
of Pennsylvania.  This almost certainly had Newton
 hands upon the labour and design.
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     After two hundred years of milling around in the cold country, draining trees for their sap to make syrup, the bloodline moved into the still hostile and dangerous "French and Indian" country.   The Newton label had been associated with the building of water-wheel powered grist mills and covered bridges.   These people were known as "wood mechanics" and were in perpetual demand for anything that moved that required precision metal and wood work.  These activities are associated with the years of 1730 through 1900.

    Hubbard (Banty) Newton was the last professional "wood mechanics" of a line that had practice the skill, trade, and business from their time around Nottingham and in the county of East Anglia as Englishmen.  They continued the trade upon arrival in the New World in 1643.   We always declared that they did not come over on the Mayflower because it had been overbooked.
  

This is a fairly typical covered bridge in that area of
the Northeastern part of America.  This particular
one is in Pennsylvania near my Grandfather's place
of birth.  Of some interest might be that psychic
 researchers and ghosts hunters swear that almost
 all covered bridges seem to be haunted.
  You can be the judge when you travel
 to those precincts next time.

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  We have one cousin…brother of my grandfather Newton, who was adopted out to a wealthy family in New York…along the Hudson.   The man was a surgeon who moved his family from Orange near the Hudson River,  and his newly minted son (adoptive), to the family estate in Clinton, Connecticut in the 1870s.
     This person, Leonard Sewell Newton, struck out on on his own and at the age of 19 became the chief officer Buffalo Station  of the Erie and Lackawanna Railroad…that ran between New York and Canada.   He had been provided a tutorial class of teachers for about five years, lecturing in everything from Shakespearean Theatre to the analysis of malarial re-transmission.  He would be my great-uncle.  He, like his brother, died in the early 1930s…neither really knew where the other one lived or even if that brother was living or dead.  In that he was adopted legally, his surname was Boyce.  His adoptive family were sainted people.

     My grandfather was likewise blessed.  First, his birthright included, like his older brother  Leonard Sewell,  massive raw intelligence.  My great-Grandfather died in 1867.  That death, at the age of 57 years, was caused by the person my great-Grandfather despised over every other human in the World…Abraham Lincoln.   My great-Grandfather would say frequently that it would be better to let the South go its way…because, "…it might be that being apart would keep us together more than a false and forced Union."

A more or less current picture of Montrose, Pennsylvania.
  It is perfectly idyllic.  Oddly, the town has lost about 40%
 of its population during the past 20 years.
   Seems a shame.

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     His losses, both psychologically and then metabolically, mounted up after a couple of emotional shocks.  We plough back to the year 1862…which brings up something about the intelligence and precocity of Norman N. Newton.  Grandpa Norman declared to his son (my father) that he remembered clearly the Christmas dinner that included his older brothers, all dressed out in their fancy Union Blues…there was a large and bountiful table. This would have been at the age of two months less than three.  The two older brothers, both members of the Pennsylvania 96th Volunteer Infantry, entering the service at the beginning of the War Between the States…assured everyone that the War would be over before Summer and Lee would be in irons.

     My father's given (Christian) names…Milton Birchard…came from that family in Montrose that adopted  him and raised him up from the age of six to his time of departure.   It was Norman N. Newton's greatest complement to any man.
      Norman, as an eleven year old child, alone and committed,  left the comfortable confines of the Birchard family to seek out his brothers he understood to be in  Michigan and/or Wisconsin.  They were working in the lumbering and forestry business.    My grandfather named his first and only "Milton Birchard" because that was the man…a person of considerable wealth…who took my grandfather in.   And he was the man who taught him to read…especially material just a bit beyond his normal capacity.

My father with his pet racoon,
a 60 pound male who liked anything shiny
such as silverware and coins, which were,
 in those times, substantially silver. (1920 -
Ed Couch, Texas)

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       He instructed the boy in the ways of the world and in the need to study and become a valuable personality.   He admired Mr. Milton Birchard…who was a true heavyweight mover and shaker…and social and political personality in northeastern Pennsylvania.
  
     It should be pointed out that Milton Birchard had a bit of French and English old-country in his veins.  Some of his family was involved in the creation of a fellow who would become a President of the United States of America.  Some of the folks who left America during the times of difficulty for the people of the overly-English orientation went to Canada.  Of course, in Canada, especially Quebec, there was and is a sizeable French component.
   Boys and girls meet, and things happen.  So, our best understanding is that Rutherford Hayes was probably birthed in Canada or of Canadian subjects (at that time) of the Crown…that perhaps he was drawn from the blood of the Birchard (pronounced:  Buhr -  SHARD) family, which was highly placed in the Dominion  (Commonwealth of Canada).  When the Hayes family established itself in Ohio, Rutherford became active in the American political scene.

     But, unlike folks who had the name of Franklin Delano Roosevelt, or Ronald Wilson Reagan, it was the notion of the budding politician that he use the proper monicker of Rutherford B. Hayes.  Some thought that it might be a way to dismiss the importance of Rutherford's English and "Frenchy" connection.  However, all must be aware, the President of the United States was once named Rutherford Birchard Hayes.

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On the road to North Dakota:

     Norman N. Newton  did not find his brothers in Wisconsin nor Michigan.   He worked as a roustabout there for an episode, but by the time he was turning at his majority, he decided to be a "lawman".   My father thought that he worked for Wyatt Earp in Tombstone, but such was not the case.
   The fact was and is that there is intertwining of the Earp Family and the Newton line.   My father had it confused, and that is because in the mores of the time, if an adult said "this", a child dared not to suggest that he should have said "that".
     My father suggested that Norman N. Newton worked for "Federal Marshall Wyatt Earp" in Tombstone. Arizona.   Later in life, my father declared that he wasn't really clear on that episode of my grandfather's life.   My best impression is that Norman N. Newton (first cousins to Newton Earp) despised Wyatt Earp from some trickling of current lore at that time (1880s - 1910) that trickled into family conversations from a distance.
       It turns out that a generation before, Wyatt and his brothers, and a blood relative of the people who lost their lives in the accident that killed them and left their male child abandoned by fate were connected by fate.   The baby in swaddling, Newton Earp, went with one of the Earps and Charles (or Max) Newton went with Hubbard (Banty) Newton to Pennsylvania.
      It turns out that the child that Hubbard (Banty) Newton took in after the carriage accident was  the brother of Charles Newton's blood first cousin who died in the carriage accident.   And that convolution is actually the way it was.   Unfortunately, Hubbard (Banty) Newton  had two wives who were sisters…the first one died after childbirth…after birthing Charles. The second one, sister to the first, also died of blood-loss after childbirth, but not before birthing, Isaac Newton.
   Then a very young girl, a noted preacher's daughter, married Hubbard Newton, to help with his peculiar Patchwork - Quilt of family…and from that time and occasion, she produced two babies.  One was Sewell Leonard Newton and the other Norman N. Newton.   Both boys came to look very much like their father and both prospered with the evangelical Mom and the prosperity of the moment.   The War Between the States dispelled that order and tranquillity.  
  

This is Newton Earp, cousin to the
 Earp brothers.  He also served as a
 lawman with them, but finished life
 as a farmer and contractor in the
 Midwest and in California. He lost
his wife in 1898 and he died in
1928…about the same time as
the death of Wyatt Earp.
Some have said that this image is
 a "dead ringer" of Wyatt Earp
but that Newton Earp was the
 better man.
  That is for the public to judge
because we just report the news.
My father seemed steeped in a
dislike of Wyatt Earp and would
not permit the TV-show in the
house, nor would he discuss the
 matter with people researching 
the complexities of this matter.
I have come to agree with my 
father. 
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     Interestingly…Hubbard, as pointed out above, had married this Spring Chicken who bore him a couple of children  (Sewell Leonard Newton and Norman N. Newton) perhaps because she was of a religious family,   We learned our research that this Protestant was actually derived from an aristocratic line of the Bolles.  She was aligned biologically with the most Catholic of all the non-Roman Catholic orthodox.  For instance, to this day, the official Church of the Reign and the Kingdom of England and all places Brittanic is the Anglican Church, presided over by an Archbishop of Canterbury.  To this day, even the Protestant Episcopal Church of the United States is protestant because it says it is not subject to the Rule of the Crown (essentially the religious authority over all things Anglican).  It is an interesting paradox, anomaly, and incongruity, still unresolved.   We are not Roman Catholic, Eastern Orthodox, or Greek Orthodox, or any of those convenient  "jidey-holes".   But we are, are an Orthodox Church…not Protestant.
  So the Newtons AND the Bolles people in the mix in America were nephews and nieces of Archbishops of Canterbury and Sir Walter Raleigh.  The Newtons had their business people and a few Counts and many fewer Dukes that any Englishman might have in their background…but we never had such as the Bolles.   As an aside, Priscilla's father-in-law and all that family have stunning ancestors full of Chancellors, Bishops, Archbishops,  Dukes, Court of the Realm, Counts, etc.   The Newton Blue-bloods come from the Christians, the original arrivals in Boston (1642) as counts of the second birth, etc., and the Christians who began to dominate the liquor, beer, and brandy production in those days from their jidey-hole in the Isle of Man…between England and Ireland 

   Priscilla's and Christian's family has a way-out-there amount of blue blood.   One of those produced was Norman N. Newton and the other was his younger sister who was last delivered.   She had married a German - American fellow, and later wound up living out in North Dakota with her brother and that other man who might have be her legal husband…that is something that is still percolating in the witches' cauldron.

     Diana's family is also blessed/cursed because most of her people came over to NoWhere Mexico because they were not first-borne - the rule of primogeniture.   Unless a person was willing to kill all those in the front of the line…it was best to take his / her blue blood and invest it in Northern Mexico and produce things like babies, sheep/wool, and crops…which my boss's Hebrew - Iberian people did…IN SPADES.   But that is another story…coming soon…at a theatre near you.

     We return somewhat quickly to this matter of Norman N. Newton.  He never suggested that he had a wife or help mate.  He learned the Lakota language, after leaving service with the Earps, thinking that he could build upon his uncles's good will.  He learned an ear-full from his uncle about the Earps, and decided he would strike north to a point in the Centre of Frigid Hell.   He made a claim to two sections (2 square miles) in a place adjacent to the territorially permitted districts of the LaKota Nation.   He knew that the southern group of these people had been dealt with dispatch, but the dealings with the northern LaKota nation in the Dakota Territory had been more genteel and predictable.
     1,280 acres was not anything comment-worthy in American terms, especially when it was considered that only one crop could be raised per year in the Dakota territory…and that would be wheat, and that grain was of a mediocre quality.   But Norman N. Newton dug his dugout home, with mud walls and with a mud roof and a certain calm due to the "ceramic closure" of the construction.  Without such a home, temperatures of 30 degrees Fahrenheit-below-zero would solve all of the problems of any homesteader…permanently.

     These homes were named "Sod Houses" by the several hundreds of "settlers" in that windswept plain.  They were not built for comfort…they were built for survival!   Searching out buffalo and cattle dung for firewood during the winter was a normalcy.   Helping Indians when they had a family emergency because the Indians almost always helped when the Caucasian type needed intercession…was something a person had to learn or forget about building a great estate.

 The inside and outside of a common sod house and a
 home of people with above average wealth, in the
 period around 1890.

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Above, one sees the nature of the interior of a "sod house".   It is a clean but very austere dwelling.  The tough stuff was left to the men…the stuff that counted  in terms of "home" instead of "house"…was left to the females…guided by a woman who probably wondered, "What in the Hell have I gotten myself into?".

The above is an example of ''harrowing" which those
 who known everything about global warming/freezing
 have never had the pleasure to understand.  This team
 draw rake-like trailers that group up the wheat stems
 and seeds,that had been"scythed".
  Usually these deployments were done on farms that
 were 160 or more acres.  It was wheat, wheat, wheat
 or nothing until they began to do barley and other
 seed crops.   This is around 1902.
  My grandfather would have been the one charging
 for each of these horsed, at the rate of one Yankee
 dollar per day, each horse.The tiller-man made
 1.25 per day.
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     Hollywood has not quite left the Michel Landon tale about  "Little House on the Prairie" in the best, true light.   The original settlers were veterans of the "Sod House".   They were neither ashamed nor proud.  Survival requires different resolve and definitions. My grandfather Norman N. Newton made his "empire" work, and at the beginning it was from his "Sod Palace".  He was well-read…had four different collections of recently published encyclopaedias and various books about current events.  He also had the "Little Leather Library", a collection of 50 English master authors' classics.   He went somewhat predictably, if not frequently, to people who wanted advice concerning seeds, or this or that, to give them advice about bugs, temperatures, and new seed strains.

    He would consult with those "experts" and then call his neighbour(s) to put the analysis to the test.   We say he would call, because he and others put together a fairly sophisticated telephone system in the southeastern part of rural North Dakota…in 1896.   Little did he know that he would have to wait for an even better long-distance communications system…a woman…when he married in 1910.

     His wife (my grandmother) Esther Lee Christian, married after living in Mexico and losing a suitor in 1895 to bandits in the transit of the train from Vera Cruz to Mexico City.   She did well as someone kookie-bongo enough to live in North Dakota.  She had had combat experience in Minneapolis - St. Paul during her younger days…(like when she was born, in 1870…like a lot of babies).

     She spent much time working with the Indians of the area…on and off the reservations.  She had a medical degree, but certain laws prevented her from an actual license to practice her GP training.  Among the aboriginals, however, they did not care if the witch-doctor medicine man or the White Lady helped them…frequently the two collaborated…or as the Democrats of to-day might say…entered into "collusion".   Her "no-charge" largesse was rewarded when the Indian women (Lakotas) noticed that her chimney had no smoke as they passed and they knew that the "White Lady" was about 20 months pregnant (okay…she was a little short of term)…and women somehow know how those things work.   They ploughed through the snow with their own pregnancies, babies, children, dogs, horses…all winding up in the Newton Parlour and delivering that which the Stork had delivered through the window.
     My grandfather Norman was in Minneapolis finishing orders for the coming planting season and just happened to be in the process of returning to Gwinner via the reliable Burlington Northern.  Norman Newton had a large reserve of Appaloosa and Morgan horses according to my father…evenly divided between the two groups that he used for his own substantial acreage, but also for let…to other farmers who  frequently spent their money on what the older Mexicans down here call "chucherrias", a term for  "senseless whims that simply cost money…a waste".

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We do not wish to bore everyone with our dull details about something called "The Past".  It is recognised that my pitiable contribution to the advance of humanity is negligible.  But, at times, there are other generations who arrive upon this planet…whither from on High, or from some more alien place…who might appreciate knowing about "….back when".

El Gringo Viejo

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Homage to My Consuegro

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     As the OROGs know, my fellow father-in-law and I share the fact that we both spent much of our professional time during this life in Mexico.  We did not go down to have a good time and play on the beach, so much, as we actually did our work there and performed our studies, services, contemplations, business, planning, and execution.

     In my case it was a matter of routing, hotel reservations by the hundreds, fifty and sixty day weeks, and my wife's holding down the fort in my absence, as well as doing all of the accounting and administration back in McAllen, Texas.   We carried, and accompanied, many thousands of clients…on excursions of from three to fifteen days…my wife carried two tiny children, frequently huge amounts of Mexican and American cash, and a baby bag, driving a five-speed manual sports car (fancy, top-end,  Toyota Celica coupe), sometimes five or ten Canadian passports, sometimes Original Naturalisation Parchment Documents of people who had obtained American citizenship (back when such documents were akin to the Two Tablets), along with scores and hundreds of standard applications for the relatively perfunctory Mexican Tourist Visa…so as to have the Mexican Tourist Visas ready for the next group.

    That required going over to Reynosa, sometimes at night, and picking up the Visas also a night or on a Saturday, and dumping off another 200 or so new applications for Visas.  In the meantime, I would be "working" at very low voltage…but 20 hours per day…or more.  The Boss was putting in about the same length of time because she also had a full-time job in the real world…and for most of that time we owned and maintained in excellent condition a moderately large coin-laundromat.

    She also had to be one of three or four people in McAllen back in 1989 who had to co-ordinate Rush Limbaugh's Rush to Excellence (while dragging along my mother - As an aside, my mother was not aware at that stage of life that she was Rush's first cousin…twice removed).   We paid one-fourth the freight to bring him down, but I was on the road at that time.   He jammed the Civic Centre with over 3, 000 people.

     To consider the nature of our Excursions, please understand that Mexico is a nation fully three times the size of the Republic of Texas.  Also, in those days, travel was…let us say…interesting.  While many of the highways were "good to excellent" others were "adequate…or almost adequate". Thankfully, by that time, there were at least numerous adequate restaurants with clean restrooms and decent to excellent forage for the tourists.

And it came to pass:

    Little girls and boys grow up and displace other realities.  My daughter and my Consuegro's son ran across each other at Southwest Texas State University (now Texas State University) and the rest is now history.  Before long they were littering the landscape with children everywhere.
   They have two daughters…both beauties and both really…and strangely…massively complex and intelligent.   Not because they are mine…they pertain to four strains of very complex and accomplished blood and genetic lines.

NOW TO THE POINT:

    My fellow father-in-law developed a talent and capability that was rare.  Perhaps some of it came from his service in the United States Navy, perhaps some of it came from a "Grand Tour" of Mexico with his Mom,  back when he was a young lad.  To go to the root, suffice it to say that my Consuegro arrived at the point of being an expert in the dangerous business of "pressure while storing oil, natural gas, and / or gasoline".  

     These matters also pertain to pipelines, about which he also is a qualified commentator, but the big deal was the huge storage tanques the Mexican company Petroleos Mexicanos (PEMEX) built and maintained during the years of almost insane expansions in terms of oil, gas, and above all, storage.

     One can readily assume that all Mexicans are dull, stupid, and incapable.  That is a comfortable intellectual hiding place, but it is also the first cousin to fool's gold.   In a way, our  friend Mr. Trump suffers a bit from that disorder.  He would be surprised to learn that Mexican engineers are, in their 75 per cent, excellent…many are brilliant and consult in Europe and the United States, and elsewhere.
      Our neighbour at the Hacienda de La Vega has an engineering degree awarded by the Instituto Tecnologico y de Estudios Superiores de Monterrey (ITESM)…aka - Monterrey Tech. This is the Hallmark University in Latin America…absolutely the finest, and most difficult.  It includes  about 15 per cent of its students from foreign countries and is the pride of Mexico among the normal intellectual class.

     One can look at the foreground in the photograph to the left, in the middle of Monterrey, Nuevo Leon.   The scene is primarily the campus of the ITESM, although not in its entirety.    The great geo-emblem of Monterrey…the Cerro de La Silla (Saddle Back Mountain), lies in the background.   The ITESM has satellite campus facilities in various cities throughout Mexico. 
     It is not an easy school to enter, but once in, one becomes an ambassador for the institution throughout the Planet.   Our neighbour and his son are both graduates…both are brilliant…both are extremely "upper-case" although, like me, ruralists.   Many Americans attend the Nuevo Leon State School of Medicine, as well as the homologue, the Medical University of the Autonomous University of Guadalajara.   There are several other medical schools that are recommendable as well.

      The reason I bring up this matter about the ITESM is not to impress folks with my knowledge of Mexican cultural details.   It is place here to cast light on my Consuegro (fellow father-in-law).   We passively solicited information about some of his previous activities.  He had been forthcoming about some of his work in Mexico…usually in difficult places, difficult engineering problems, off in the boon-docks where replacement parts and master welders, etc. were in short supply.
     But then, one time some time back, he let loose with a bunch of stuff that flabbergasted this listener / writer of this screed.   The fact is that he was called in, somewhat frequently, to evaluate and to "recommend" (read - "order") repairs, replacements, and procedures to improve oil and gasoline products for the massive company known as PEMEX (Petroleos Mexicanos, SA de CV).

     Mexican engineers of the highest category were given contracts to hire nationals and foreigners at the drop of a hat for any serious structural or mechanical problem affecting storage, processing, or transmission of PEMEX products.  PEMEX products ranged and range from mediocre to extremely high quality.   PEMEX was and is the fourth leading operator in such products and is in the same category in terms of innovation and adaptation…(environmental, for instance, was solved in its 70 per cent by chemists and engineers from Mexico. in terms of the grand improvement of the air quality in Mexico City).

      I pre-ambulate all of this so that the reader will know and understand that any Joe Gringo does not walk into the main office of PEMEX and say, "Gee, fellows…let me show you how to make gasoline out of water."  For various reasons, all good, my Consuegro became famous for being able to detect problems and how to solve them.  True enough, much was under the auspices of the private Mexican engineering firms that are respected World Wide who required…nay, at times, demanded…the presence of my Consuegro before storage tanques and other accoutrements of PEMEX properties would be repaired or replaced.

     My Consuegro was so integral in much of this "oil and gas stuff" that a motion of his hand or a paragraph at a meeting of Grand Poobahs (who were real Poobahs) would cause action in favour of his recommendation.   My hearing…and at times provoking deeper response…andhis tales keyed too securely into his stories about "travelling in Mexico" and "working on some projects" down there.   Before many months of our association I was all but humiliated that this "Navy Guy" had had more impact on Mexico than I, this "Army Guy" with generational contact with Mexico (we are roughly the same age).

      My Consuergro would, at times, open up quite a bit…then go for another cup of coffee or a beer (he and I only drink Mexican beer…another interesting fact)…and not mention another word about this or that adventure.   He was "put-up" in homes of the highest, highest, elements of Mexican aristocracy…both industrial and social.  He adapted to the roughest conditions while trying to do the best for his family and for Mexico…thence the United States.   He went into areas of Mexico where the indigenous did not speak Spanish…and still made himself understood.

     El Gringo Viejo puts these words into his "defence" because they come from his pen.   A bit of definition is entered below so as to lubricate the readers' understanding of this thing about "Legally working in Mexico"…many are called…few are chosen…my Consuegro and I were two of those who were chosen…

     Some necessary orientation points:

(1)   Minatitlan - major transportation and control point for the huge refinery at Coatzacoalcos that represented 50% of the Mexican oil industry.

(2)  Sub-comandante Marcos - a Sandinista inspired communist activist who decided, after finishing medical school, to establish armed military resistance in the hopelessly poor State of Chiapas.

(3)     Black Police -  "All Mexican Cops are corrupt"…except when you had these fellows during the time of the insurrection of "sub-Comandante Marcos"…the "Black Police".  They had a very good record of escorting people in an area of Chiapas that was made unstable by United Nations, Mrs. Mitterrand, George Soros, and other marxist money fountains, backing "sub-Comandante Marcos".

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   (WARNING: EVERYTHING IN BLUE PRINT IS MY CONSUEGRO'S.  the interruptions are my commentary in red print.  This advisory is placed here because some people think that I inflate or fabricate facts…they almost always wind up saying, "Well, now I understand that you are telling the truth, but I thought you were joking before.  My Consuegro does not have to invent adventures and heroics.)

Here begins the content  of my Consuegro:
    

My limited experience with the Mexican Navy, Army,  and Marines. Yes! and all in a 5 day period!

     In 1994, I traveled by car from Minatitlan to Juchitan de Zaragoza, to Salina Cruz To Oaxaca and returned.   This was the period of time that Rebels, led by Sub-comandante Marcos.  

The trip going we "hooked up with "the Black Police" Every one was afraid of them but they were traveling to reinforce the station in Oaxaca. We had no problems--- it was an extremely fast trip, top speed all the way.    There would be no more escorts until the return.

     My first stop was Salina Cruz. This was and is Mexico's largest export oil terminal.  I was there to inspect some of the oil storage tanques.  Most were in the 300 foot diameter size (a Texan should probably not say anything about this, but 300 feet…only in Mexico…and they did it "better  than Belgium"as it was said).  At that time, these were huge in comparison to US tanks. Everyone asked if we ran into any problems with Marcos. We said no, but we gave no details.

      Later we were given a tour of the Naval Base.  This base protects the in-coming and out-going oil tankers. We were invited to Lunch in the Officers Mess.  I was taken to see the fuel storage area.

The base was on high alert because of Marcos. I doubt if there was any real concern but it was good training.  (Such an invitation is very, very, very rare.  Normally, people are denied access, and cannot take pictures of any kind.)

     While in Oaxaca we were directed to the Military's locations, they said that if we wanted to go to Acayucan we could join a caravan going through Marcos territory. It was a military convoy taking troops and support vehicles back to Minatitlan.

    We were part of the convoy, but only five vehicles were in line with numerous military vehicles.   We went with them, and it was slower but very secure…just another of the various adventures we had in the refineries, tank-farms, and transmission stations.

This is a relatively old picture of the Coatsocoalcos
refinery…quite near the control city of Minatitlan.

     We place this disclaimer to the above remarks and postulations.  The movement of "capitalists swine" and "foreign invaders" in that core area of Chiapas State in Mexico (adjacent to Guatemala), supposedly under the control of "sub-comandante Marcos", an errant, deranged cultural - political maniac whose family is/was extreme upper-middle class in Tampico, with some blue blood mixed into the mix, was an area that could not be depended upon, in terms of social calm.  The various Indian groups…be they Mixtec, Zapotecs, and the more numerous Maya- Lacandona and their smaller groupings…could not be depended upon even by Marcos to remain subdued during times of "peace talks".

     These Indian sub-divisions would fight their allies if it seemed correct by a moon stage or a shaman's directive.  I would like to say this is an exaggeration, but it is not.

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    One thing is certain…whether a person wishes to admit it or not…in those days it was a dangerous journey, if for no other reason being that there was no way to predict what some shaman would wake up after a night of snops, or how "sub-Comandante Marcos" (world's greatest lackey for the Ortega brothers of Nicaragua) after a night with his favourite girls and a load of cannabis…would want to begin a new offensive against the Gringo Oppressors.

My "first place" for the most despised
person in the Universe. Hated Negroes
and Mexicans and Americans and yet
is revered by the "professorial class"
throughout Academia.

     By the time my Consuegro was there, Ernest (Che) Guevara had long since gone to slumber in the arms of the agents of Satan.  It is estimated  that he slaughtered  over 1,000 Indians during his incursion into the northern part of South America.  For this he is revered on almost every major college campus, (especially in the northeast and California and the West Coast). A stupid and compliant press is always helpful when it is necessary to advance and promulgate pointless rewards and praise…especially from a likes of a murderous thug such as Ernesto.

     My Consuegro laboured to provide fuel, natural gas, and employment at excellent wages and benefits provided for, as one should know, by the income provided by the Company, PEMEX.
  The work was hard, but rewarding…and the employment and benefits package offered to him was happily something that my Consuegro could look forward to.

     He made a good living at it….for himself, his family, and for everyone with whom he had contact.   He is a pleasure for me to have known and to have associated.  It is a bit of a comedown for me…but not much…when the Hacendado of the Hacienda de La Vega comes over to the Quinta at my return and he does not ask about my trials and tribulations…first, he always asks about my Consuegro, John.

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We shall be publishing various and sundry articles that relate to the "migrants" and to the political situation in Texas, the United States, and Mexico (and yes, even Canada).   Pray for our people in South Texas, in South Carolina, in Central Texas, and in the Republic of Texas in general.

El Gringo Viejo

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When real men are in charge of their gardens...

This first entry comes from Gunterius Hildebrant, (a nom de plume)…who decided to frame up three stealthy invaders.  The trio sought and found refuge, apparently, in the semi-disciplined reaches of a man's type of garden.
    Mother Cat is probably out trying to steal whatever half-hamburger was left out when the eater ran in to answer the telephone.
     The task for Gunterius is to find dummies who can fall for the cute kittens and get rid of them before they turn into ugly old tomcats.   It should also be pointed out that Gunterius is actually from one of the old, highly respected "original" families of McAllen.  He is an accomplished person, and interestestingly is a first-cousin once removed of the legendary Irene Garza, my eldest brother's classmate and buddy, who was murdered by a priest back in April of 1960 in McAllen.   It is something that still stuns and emotionally stresses all of the "old timers" of the County of Hidalgo, and especially McAllen.   She, and her extended family were highly, highly regarded…respected…modest and intelligent and competent people.

    Here is our Majordomo's efforts…the man we call Sargento Mayor Alvaro…because he truly is the man in charge of the operation of the physical plant of the Quinta Tesoro de la Sierra Madre.  At times he has to serve as the hotelier as well, when El Gringo Viejo cannot be on site to attend to the clients.

    These plants to the left have many names, you…the OROG  (Order of the Readers of the Old Gringo) and any visitor can look up the name, here misnomered as crisantimo.   This is the one plant that comes in first place among the ladies of our village.   Second place is the Hoya vine that publishes really impressive hot-pink multi-petalled, waxed basket like flowers.

    Because of the nature and diversity of our very irregular gardens, we have two to five people or clusters come by every week asking for cuttings or for advice concerning "plagas (plagues)", and diets for their plants, and other advice.

    These red-balls of attraction for hummingbirds and other smaller birds and bees are not as delicate as one might think.  They can last for up to three months, although six to eight weeks is considered normal.  They come from bulbs, so one must put up with occupying major pots (one to three gallon) that essentially lies dormant for nine months of the year.

    To the left here, one can see a certain similarity between the semi-disciplined paradise for kittens that Gunterius has produced and the bramble corner part of our upper precincts of the Quinta.  This is my particular effort that attempts to provide different types of cover for a diverse universe of winged visitors.

     We try to maintain some thick clusters of safety for the many, many birds of literally 100s of species who frequent our precincts.   This occurs on a daily as well a seasonal basis, depending upon the species, of course.

      We also, as frequently stated, have huge migrations of Monarch and Sulphur Butterflies who come by…both in their going down and their coming forth in their travels between Mexico and Canada.   They seem to appreciate our orderly disorder as well. 

Thanks for your attention,
El Gringo Viejo

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Concerning inter-military contact and such events on the Mexican / American border...

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      Donald Trump and various rightwing / conservative publications are blustering and huffing and puffing about the "invasion" of the United States by armed Mexican Army soldiers who "disarmed" two American soldiers in the United States and then ran away.   Trump, knowing nothing, spoke with great authority.   Like an amiable dumbo…more or less as usual.

            We remember some time back when a couple of guys went across to Matamoros and tried to take out a permit to drive across Mexico to go to Costa Rica.  The problem was that one of the fellows had a bolt-action .410 shotgun that was not declared.  Somehow he did not ask, inquire, or do any diligence concerning the importation of such a firearm into Mexico.   Such a process must begin in the United States at a Mexican Consulate in the United States.  Then, the documents are to be processed by a Mexican Army general, usually a retired person, with all the stamps and rubrics.

     Then, the foreigner can go into Mexico with his documents…always close at hand… without any problem.   On this occasion  the vacationing American Corporal became surly and threatening to the customs officers…females and males…and finally the somewhat bellicose corporal was detained.

     Bill O'Reilly, another blowhard without authority, expounded and pounded about this "great transgression" and demanded the release of the forlorn, innocent Corporal.  O'Reilly had an aggravating and ignorant problem in that he always referred to President Enrique Pena Nieto as Mr. Nieto.   The problem, of course, is that O'Reilly might be intelligent, but he is also ignorant and arrogant.
     The President of Mexico at that time would be called Mr. Pena.  The last - names of folks in Mexico have the paternal surname first and the maternal surname last in the construct of a formal and legal name.

    I sent the family in Florida a message telling them that I would be glad to intervene to the extent possible at no charge, and that I had had considerable success with such efforts without the need to pay anyone anything.

     They never responded.  But, after the father arrived in Brownsville after a few days and went over to the nearby Customs and Immigration in Matamoros, Tamaulipas, Mexico to check on their son, there was a surprisingly quick resolution to the issue.  Their son was declared personna non grata, never to cross the border again due to his abusive and threatening deportment…backed up by video and audio and by their son's confession to his parents that he had been off his meds or something.

     The boy's travelling buddy never seemed to have a negative word to say, but of course, he had not threatened anyone on the Mexican Customs and Immigration apron.  BTW,  there are VERY LARGE SIGNS place over the approaches, by the Texas Department of Transportation that declare "No Guns or Ammunition Can Be Taken Into Mexico -  Penalty - Prison!"

   This was shortly followed up by an American Sergeant who had a bed-load of guns, ammunition, and militaria in his pick-up.  This time it was in California…where this poor Sergeant became confused trying to leave the "chaotic" parking areas near the border, and this after his third visit there on the border.  This was from whence he had walked over to nice joints…restaurants, saloons, diners…all decent and clean…and conviviated with Mexicans and American walk-overs or regular tourists…in the really nice diners and bars.

     The problem was that since he was "lost" he drove into Mexico, still carrying USArmy ordnance, and a fellow just cain't do that nohow without no bad outcome.   Your humble servant did not attempt to intervene in this matter, although I would have been more than willing.

     To shorten the story, this Sergeant might or might not have had a mental. emotional, or meds  problem.  He was a difficult person to detain.  They moved him from the holding cell in the jail in Tijuana and sent him to a dingy Federal Prison in Mexicali.   Bill O'Reilly moaned and threatened and did all the things that a substantially ignorant blowhard does…and then suddenly went quiet.   The Sergeant was eventually released after several months, although had he been a Mexican, doing the same thing, he would have been on "extended vacation" in a Mexican Federal Prison for five or six years…easily. (with or without bribes).

     Now comes the President that El Gringo Viejo is forced by reality to endorse and support.  He knows nothing about what happened at the place where the American and Mexican soldiers had their encounter.   Everybody knows that the Mexican Soldiers were on the wrong side of the border…or do they know?…or were they?    Has anyone reading this screed or listening to the experts and pontificators on the television and radio been in the Land of Beto or the land of Pancho Villa or anything?  Probably not.

 

The Rio Grande has many personalities…what would you do/?

   The American soldiers who were on the correct side of the line, so to speak, did the right thing by rendering their sidearms to the platoon-level group of Mexican Army…two competent  soldiers against  against forty battle-hardened strike force Mexican Infantry?  Don't become heroic or bellicose.

  And, the Mexicans were following protocol, as did the Americans. When the Mexican officer (a captain?) in charge took possession of the pistol(s), and then took them over to the Americans' military vehicle (that had no markings or official designations) and put the Americans' pistols in the front cab, and in so  he was complying with Mexican rules of engagement with a friendly force.  

     Then they entered into a not-unfriendly conversation about where the actual international boundary was to be found.  During these moments, it is probable that Elephant Butte Dam (140 miles to the north in New Mexico) is not releasing water into the Rio Grande.  Therefore the riverbed will be mostly if not totally dry.   It begins again with a steady flow another 277 miles downstream, where the Rio Conchos comes in from Mexico, and generally maintains a steady to at times turbulent flow to the Rio Grande.

Where one comes out after rafting 12 miles while paddling
 along with a trio of grannies. The Mexican boys who
 helped us asked five dollars each. It was worth 100 dollars
 for the quality of service and civility and honesty.
  All of my junk was still in Boquillas at the end of the row.
  Nothing was missing.  The family even had cactus and
 scrambled eggs and tripe stew waiting for us. It was
 delicious. 

     Further down on the Rio Grande, we have long been accustomed to the fluctuations of the level of the Rio.  One of the last places where there is little or no water in the Rio for periods of 12 to 36 hours is around El Paso, especially downstream.
   Once really further downstream (200 miles), there are places where people can actually take rafting trips through the Santa Helena Canyon complex…perhaps the most beautiful place in North America.

     Frankly, as a Texian, it is THE most beautiful place in North America because of the violence and gentleness that the site provides, strictly by the hands of the angels.  Floating down at low flow, or as un-trained dumboes shooting down the channel with 50,000 cubic feet per second flow, the Canyon  forgives a visitor.
       And, yes, Virginia, El Gringo Viejo did it twice…once in the wild ride at 25 miles per hour, and the last time in the poofy-float at 2 miles per hour.   Back in the 1967 period.  It was…interesting…and never forgotten.
     My father did a cavalry manoeuvre back in the early 1930s, involving several hundred soldiers and perhaps 500 horses on a rail / trek / return project that took about six weeks, from Brownsville to Lajitas / Boquillas and back.  That training exercise and the recovery of the non-Global Warming - Climate Change hurricane of 1933 that hit Brownsville were two of the more interesting episodes in my father's mounted cavalry service (the mouth of the Rio Grande ran 100 miles wide a a result of the flooding rains of the Rio Grande drainage area - 250.000 square miles).

    I throw out the Ace of Spades on this commentary.

   Donald Trump does not know, does not understand, does not care what is going on in Mexico.  To his senses, Mexico is a punching bag to blame for anything that seems to be bothering him.   His understandings and his movements to the pro or con of any issue with "the Mexicans" is already rusted out both intellectually and morally.  The Mexicans as an official body, have no particular moral high-ground, but the people are not totally morally corrupt.  Even much of the various governmental institutions are not "totally" corrupt.  Much functions as it should.  Improvement is always desirable…but since Echeveria Alvarez and Jose Lopez Portillo (1970 - 1982 which was the really low point of blatant corruption on a grand scale) things have steadily improved.  President Trump has had many apertures where he could have had a significant operative advantage, but he has blown it each time.

    We do advise, however, for the ignorant and the stupid, that as recently as three or four years ago, Mexican military was cleared by American authority to assault a place Near Salineno, Texas in the western part of Starr County, Texas due to the fact that the home and ranch's set of transmission towers and known collaboration with drug and human smuggling was guilty of causing scores of deaths and tonnes of transport of drugs and slaves.
    The local news people went ape-crazy over the information…seeing Mexican helicopters and Special Forces sliding down the ropes to assault the persons and the property…IN TEXAS and on TEXAS SOIL!!!!   Oh!! Main Gott!!! We are all going to die.
       There were several arrests that resulted from this military manoeuvre and various were important to the ongoing cause.

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   My Consuegro and I witnessed, a couple of years ago, the Mexican Naval Infantry assault a bodega (rural warehouse) within sight of our place in NoWhere, Mexico.   My Consuegro and I marvelled at the military precision of the infantrymen downscaling the ropes extending from the lumbering helicopter.  From a quarter mile's distance…across the Rio Corona…well into the Municipal de Guemez…we could see the effects.  The bad guys did not know what hit them.

     Both my Consuegro and the host of our visit who is also a cherished neighbour admonished me to not gesture or approve or disapprove!!!!  No No No, que los dejan!!!!! (Leave them alone).  

The next day there was a quick and blunt story in the Victoria newspaper about the successful raid  on a place where there were two or three "hostages" being held for ransom.  Such matters frequently do not really end well.   In this case it ended very well.

   The people were set free. Two individuals guarding the victims were sent to prison, and they spilled the beans on a matrix of Central American and Mexican criminals that would curl a person's hair.   It was almost like being in the United States.  That is when a person really and truly begins to relish the "military option" and the competence of the Mexican military.   In all sincerity, my feelings towards the Mexican military and the feelings of the vast, vast, vast majority of Mexican and foreign residents is 96% approval.  The Mexican military complex is not an institution of saints, but they have demonstrated over and over again during the past 20 years especially that they are the keepers of or the restorers of order and legal process.

       True enough, about ten years ago, there were two generals and some other officers in Sonora, adjacent to Arizona, in the very far north of Mexico who were thoroughly corrupt.  There were some agents inserted and some eavesdropping by electronic devices, and the two generals and their lackeys were arrested, flown to Mexico City, and then placed into prison.   This the 65th Battalion of Infantry, known back then among the populace as the "narcobattalion".

       My understanding is that one of the generals died while incarcerated and the other served his time and was essentially exiled to Spain.   What is certain is that since the military is made up of human beings, there will be fault and failure.  But…please be aware…and I address this to people who say, "Well, everybody knows that the Mexican Army is giving protection to the cartels"  is a braying, mentally-retarded jackass.   The Mexican military is, morally, very similar to the American military.   Their service against the cartels and other elements of social and cultural disorder has been incredibly noble.

We shall have more to post in the coming days.  Please stand by.
El Gringo Viejo

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