As Mexico emerged as a young nation, its self-identity was shaped not only by its past but also its present. Determining what that identity is and its impact on Mexico’s representative history can be seen in their displays at several World’s Fairs from 1876-1939. The key to understanding this identity and what was chosen to represent it on such a global scale can be seen in their social, political, and cultural changes that occurred from 1898-1939, looking not just at Mexico’s indigenous and colonial history, but also on events unfolding in Mexico at the time. How this identity was explored and displayed in an effort to create a connection to not only a global audience, but also to an American one is important as attention will be paid to the relationships not only between the United States and Mexico but also the viewer and the artifacts as they experienced tangible evidence of the struggles and triumphs of Mexico’s emerging and evolving national identity.

What is a national identity? A national identity is simply the sense of a country or nation as a cohesive whole, which are represented by distinctive traditions, culture, and language. In this case, Mexico will go through many changes and as their national identity develops, so does their representation at world fairs from 1876-1939.[1] Eric Storm notes that world fairs were global platforms of exchange, a place where countries learned how to shape their national identities. He further explores the idea that national identities are to a larger context the product of globalization and the world’s fairs will function as an international audience. The need for larger displays and pavilions will become popular and become a place where national identity construction could truly take place, which is evidenced by Mexico from the period 1876 to 1939.[2]

To begin, a brief history of Mexico is important to understand the main political influence behind the decisions made at world fairs from 1876-1939. Politically, Mexico goes through roughly 50 governments in its first 40 years. In 1876, Mexico will find new leadership that emerges from a coup by Porfirio Díaz and will last for the next 34 years, until 1910. [3] According to Sven Schuster, Porfirio Díaz will invest heavily in the study of history, archaeology, and anthropology in an effort to give Mexico its national identity. He re-established the National Museum in 1865 with a special section for archaeology in 1887 and in 1885 the Bureau of Inspection and Conservatism was founded under the direction of archaeologist Leopold Bartres. [4]

While Porfirio Díaz generally seemed interested in portraying Mexico as advanced, more often than not, the focus seems to be more on a new wave of Indianism or celebrating the Pre-Columbian past, specifically reflecting a more neo-Aztec motif. Key influences for the displays tend to be about the overall theme of the fair and how it relates to each country. This also seemed to determine where countries were placed in spaces and how they interacted. Mexico was pitted across from the United States in the 1876 World’s Fair in Philadelphia where the push was to showcase the greatness of America.

The end of the nineteenth century saw World Fairs in Philadelphia (1876), Paris (1889) and Chicago (1893). These fairs showcased Mexico under the leadership of Porfiro Díaz and showed an emerging national identity based on its new leadership. The Porfiriato, as it is often referred to, aimed to show progress, order and a newly unified country. According to Robert Rydel, the Philadelphia World Fair in 1876 emphasized national unity and essentially America’s Manifest Destiny while also providing hope for the future as the last one hundred years were examined. The decision on where and how the countries would be displayed came under the guise of America taking the less desirable location and giving more ideal spots to both European, Asian, and Latin American countries. This put Mexico and Brazil directly across from the United States which very well could have had an impact on the perception of Mexico compared to the United States.[5]

The display in Philadelphia marked Mexico’s first official entry into the international exhibition and while it did not have the resources to create a comprehensive display, it did prove itself as a nation rich in natural resources. With the backdrop of revolution in Mexico and the takeover of Porfirio Díaz, Mexico did find a place at the world fair. While Mexico was reduced to a small area of the Main Building, it did use the space well and divided its artifacts into various groups including staple products, manufactures, and mineral specimens which will have displays of silver.[6] Overall, the national identity of Mexico was that of honoring the past and looking to the future, perhaps hopeful. The display may have been smaller, and the United States may have been a larger presence, but the natural resources and ability for patrons to interact with Mexico was important. It did show that Mexico could in fact compete with other nations. The picture of the Mexican Pavilion offers a glimpse at its enticing display.

While Philadelphia may have been Mexico’s first foray into the World Fair market, it continued to grow and expand its visibility. What national identity did Mexico display in 1876? Perhaps the answer is simple, a relatively young, new nation trying to figure that out. By playing on its natural resources, it honored both the past and the future. Looking at the Paris World Fair of 1889, those behind the Mexican exhibition wished to focus on the importance of education specifically on the scientific discourse on race. How to handle Pre-Columbian indigenous history was the focus of many of these exhibitions. Is the indigenous past proof of inferiority or that which should be celebrated? For most of their exhibitions, the past seemed to dictate the identity, even if it was not always desirable by the elites.

The display in Paris 1889 is further proof of this. Sven Schuster considered Mexico an antique tragedy that gave birth to a new hybrid civilization, not necessarily a truly national style. Under Porfirio Díaz, the struggle over the national self-image will emerge as race and nation are now connected due to racial factors shaping Mexico’s destiny. The display in Paris will be different yet, instead of solely showcasing the modernity of Mexico, it will once more celebrate its pre-colonial past. The Paris World Fair in 1889 will be a celebration of the one-hundred-year anniversary of the French Revolution. It also featured human zoos, giant dioramas, Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show, and the Eiffel Tower. Mexico and other Latin American countries emphasized the progressiveness of their original inhabitants. A vision of the vanquished as an alternative perspective from the Spanish will give a greater voice to the post-conquest Aztec as it is integrated into Mexican National History.[7] According to Shelley Garrigan, these fairs were spectacular instruments of mass communication that allowed a medium for self-conscious displays of nationhood to occur. The Paris World Fair was a venue for the Porfiriato to showcase advancement. Mexico created the Aztec Palace which featured deities, symbols, glyphs, and sculptures, though not all belonged to the Aztec to honor the past. Schuster noted this was an Indianist project and citing Mauricio Tenorio Trillo, based on discussions of the appropriate image of Mexico and its search for an authentic identity that combined the pre-Hispanic and neo-classical elements. While the outside structure celebrated the past, according to Garrigan, the inside offered a more modern display including raw materials, geography, education, production and science. [8] Mexico did well in some ways to bridge the gap in its national identity as it celebrated the past while looking to a brighter future. Once more, the national identity of Mexico is a hybrid between honoring the peoples of the past and those that came as a result of the Spanish.

A shift in ideals will occur from Paris to Chicago as Porfirio Díaz had personally opted for Peñafiel’s Aztec Palace but eventually regretted the decision as his main focus was to show the world that Mexico was a contender. He was interested in modernization with the help of foreign investment and to celebrate Mexico’s economic growth along with its now more enlightened and superior ruler. With this idea, Mexico’s identity was changing to be more than its Pre-Columbian past once more. The Chicago World Fair of 1893 featured displays designed to the latest scientific findings with a strong focus on archaeological elements while also celebrating the discovery of America. In Chicago, Porfirio Díaz wanted to showcase a hacienda, but his vision was replaced by the “Ruins of Yucatan” once more drawing on the Pre-Columbian past. In Chicago, Mexico had a smaller display due to financial problems as tensions mounted between the idea of Hispanism or the cultural bonds between Spain and its former colonies and Pan-Americanism or the cultural exchange & political equality between sister republics. The Ruins of Yucatan once more made the indigenous past more visible in Mexico’s national identity.

Beginning in 1910, Porfirio Díaz will start to lose power as Mexico will be thrust into revolution. From 1910 to 1940, new leadership emerged in Mexico and more than that, the world will also see the First World War, a global depression, and the start of the Second World War. After Díaz and then Madero, Mexico will experience anarchy until around 1917 with the creation of a new constitution. The First World War pitted the United States and Mexico against each other in some ways due to the Zimmerman Telegram but after the war, a status quo relationship seemed to resound once more with the United States in a more dominant role. After that, a series of revolutions as various groups tried to take control of Mexico.

From 1928-1934, the Maximato controlled Mexico which was during Mexico’s representation at the Chicago World Fair of 1933, The Century of Progress. According to Zahra Moss, US concessionaires and the Mexican government used this fair as an opportunity to define symbols of Mexican national identity in the wake of the Mexican Revolution (1910-1920). Mexico’s display was based on a major archaeological discovery, the ruins of Monte Alban in the southern state of Oaxaca which is considered the largest discovery of indigenous artifacts crafted without the use of rotary tools. Why use this display in the midst of so much change and both political and social issues in Mexico at this time? According to Moss, the decision was based on the construction of a historical narrative that once more celebrated Mexico’s more indigenous past. With each emerging conflict, government and discovery, Mexico seemed to focus on the past. With the discovery of the Monte Alban treasure, it gave new focus to the greatness that was their past when the future seemed to be somewhat chaotic and uncertain. [9]

Finally, Mexico will once more undergo new leadership in 1934 which will last into the beginning of World War II. Lázaro Cárdenas or the People’s Hero will come into power in 1934 with real change taking place, seemingly for the better. Miriam Österreich noted that the 1939 New York World Fair had the goal of overcoming the Great Depression culturally and narrowed the focus to national US interest over Pan-American ones. This fair comes at a time when World War II has already begun in Europe and the US was at the end of its own Great Depression. Mexico will be featured in two ways, first by participating in “The World of Tomorrow” display and then in the second season of this fair, in the “Twenty Centuries of Mexican Art” display at the Museum of Modern Art. Mexico’s display featured many pieces of art and photography juxtaposing the past and the present. In many ways it was a montage of pre-Hispanic archaeological artifacts with dominant themes of Mexican arts and crafts from Pre-Columbian to contemporary and based on tourism. One of the more prominent artists featured was Luis Márquez whose art will later be moved to the MoMA. This display, more than the others, gave Mexico a national identity, that it could be both modern and nostalgic or reminiscent of the past. They could in fact be both and that to create a truly unified nation, one must include all people, the indigenous peoples from before colonization and those that came as a result. [10]

Regarding Mexico and the many World Fairs they participated in, their struggle between the past and present seemed to play out each time. Lisa Munro notes that an exhibitionary culture developed in the late 19th century and with it, increased visibility of world fairs, national museums, and department stores, allowing new cultural attitudes to flourish and knowledge to be shared. This can be seen in each of Mexico’s displays mentioned. She concludes that fairs allowed all those who entered to experience images and tangible objects that showcased the elite while appealing to lower socioeconomic groups.

Ideas of nationalism, colonialism and industrialization helped influence people in their everyday lives. This is the case with Mexico and its national identity. In almost every case, leadership wanted to present Mexico as an example for a more modern future, but ultimately what was celebrated was the past. Each display examined, had a strong connection to the pre-Columbian, pre-Hispanic past while slowly incorporating modern components of science and modern ideals. Events in Mexican history shaped this, and this new hybrid civilization did in fact emerge. [11]

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The Latin American presence in the World’s Fairs evoked interest in international trade and commerce. Countries such as Cuba, Peru, and Venezuela participated as often as their political, social, and economic conditions allowed for it. Mexico’s participation in the World’s Fairs, had been prominent in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. “Latin American elite showed interest in the world’s fairs as early as 1851.”[1] (Schuster, 73). The world’s fairs had become a platform for the presidency of Mexican President Porfirio Díaz (1876-1911) to highlight Mexico’s advancement in industrialization and technology.

Pre-eminence at the World’s Cotton Centennial in New Orleans in 1884, the 1893 World’s Columbian Exposition in Chicago, and the 1891 Exposition in Portland, Oregon, allowed Mexico to foster a presence which came to be prolific, if not, expected. However, at the 1897 Tennessee Centennial and International Exposition, which was held in Nashville, Mexico’s “signature,” notably its Eighth Regiment Cavalry military band, was absent. “Desaparecido en acción,” loosely translated, means “missing in action” in Spanish. Mexico’s participation at the 1897 Tennessee Centennial and International Exposition was limited, at best. Known for its cultural richness and social diversity, the Tennessee Centennial and International Exposition in 1897, etched its place into history as one of the only profitable world’s fairs held in the United States. “Tennessee was a hundred years old on June 1, 1896, and for four years before that, Nashville citizens had tried to get the project in motion.” [2] Undermining its deeply invested heritage was a darker, hidden side of the world’s fairs, in which race, space, and place, were pivotal in the social and political order of the Tennessee Exposition’s success.

The World’s Fairs were places of cultural and social diversity. They were educational and expositional in nature. Countries from all over the world rushed to not only host World’s Fairs, but to participate in the fairs by sending their goods, highlighting their exports, and profiting from their ultimate aim to be global-minded. Yet, there was often a darker, hidden side of these expositions. Blacks, for example, were not given a place of honor at the World’s Columbian Exposition in Chicago in 1893. Africans, Asians, and Native Americans were put on display at the Exposition.

The Tennessee Centennial and International Exposition of 1897, was just one example of the burgeoning efforts to present the South as a society which overcame its notoriety as one which had succumbed to the “Lost Cause.” As diverse and culturally aware as the World’s Fairs organizers proposed to be, they were often extravagant events, where the race and ethnicities of attendees and participants were supposedly fluid, yet juxtaposed into adherent norms of the time. One of the Tennessee Centennial’s crowned accomplishments was that of the Negro Building. Built with a Spanish Renaissance style, organizers gathered some of the most well-known and influential African-Americans in the State of Tennessee to form a committee and discuss the content and theme of the Negro Building.

The Negro Building bridged the gap between African-American citizens of Tennessee and the paternalistic nature and goodwill of white organizers of the centennial celebration. (Cardon, 290). “Although the rhetoric surrounding the exhibits had a tinge of equality, the fairs' organizers in fact viewed the buildings as a way to demonstrate whites' guidance

of a supposedly childlike race.”[3] Race often played a factor in many of the displays and exhibits, and the overall organizational efforts of the World’s Fairs in southern states. The Jim Crow era was slowly emerging in the nation’s South in the late nineteenth-century, often at the bemoaning of African-Americans. “Jim Crow modernity was not a new idea—it was taking hold across the South—but at the expositions it was distilled into a consumable ideology.” [4] The ideology was laughable at times. “From Atlanta’s 1881 International Cotton Exposition to Nashville’s 1897 Tennessee Centennial and International Exposition, Southern aspirations built “solemn circuses.” [5]

Countries participated in the world’s fairs because the prospects of developing trade partnerships and access was crucial to economic growth. “Nations throughout Latin America both participated in and hosted a number of expositions in an effort to promote images of cultural modernity and industrial progress to international audiences.” [6] Latin American countries in general, and Mexico in particular, were no exception. Their governments clamored for a space at the table of the world’s fairs. Occupying a seat at the table presented by the world’s fairs was a transnational space with commercial and economic outcomes. Many of the world's fairs did not make a profit, although the Tennessee Centennial did. However, approximately forty-five world’s fairs were held in North America alone. (Goodstein, 132). The organizers of the Tennessee Centennial and International Exposition of 1897 were among those who knew that international trade was significant to the southern economy. “The 1893 fair launched a full-blown world’s fair movement in the United States. Following Chicago’s triumph, major international fairs were held in San Francisco (1894), Atlanta (1895), Nashville (1897), Omaha (1898), Buffalo (1901), St. Louis (1904), Portland (1905), Jamestown (1907), Seattle (1909), San Francisco (1915–16), and San Diego (1915–16).”[7]

The quest for a space in the movement, along with commercial aspirations, was at the forefront of Mexican policy and its participation in the world’s fairs. “Among the Latin American countries represented in the expositions, Mexico was the most important and consistent participant.” [8] Mexican President Porfirio Díaz had introduced a patriarchal view towards participation in world’s fairs by overseeing much of the exhibits which would be sent out. At the Tennessee Centennial, over sixteen nations had exhibits displayed throughout fairgrounds. “By 1889 Mexico had acquired some experience as a participant in world expositions, especially during the Porfirian peace.”[9] Porfirian peace was hard fought. “Following the disruptions of the Mexican war for independence, the disarray in the new country’s commercial system provided an opportunity for foreign merchants to become important elements at the fair.” [10]

Navigating space at the internationally diverse world’s fairs had to be strategic, not only physically, but politically. Mexico was economically recovering from its relatively recent war with the United States, which lasted from 1846-1848. Díaz knew that it was important for Mexico to recover its image on a global scale. Recent developments in Latin American countries saw many countries gaining their independence. Participation in world’s fairs fostered the opportunity for trade. “Held in every region in the country, the Tennessee Centennial was one of many fairs which were organized and served as powerful rationalizing forces in American life.” [11] The South, however, in its own paternalistic manner, felt that Latin American countries could take note on race relations, as they scrambled for economic recovery. “The Tennessee Centennial Exposition was similarly accused of being a segregated space.” [12] Interest in boosterism caused people like Clark Howell, who was interested in boosting the “New South,” felt that all of the Latin American countries, including Mexico, should overcome social and industrial woes that were pertinent to their independence. (Cardon, 87).

Mexico, which had enjoyed a relatively infamous reputation of its goodwill tours across the United States, with its Eighth Calvary Regiment Mexican band, and its experience at previous world’s fairs, was in a better space at the table of the world’s fairs than some of its Latin American counterparts. Historian Nathan Cardon, in A Dream of the Future: Race, Empire, and Modernity at the Atlanta and Nashville World's Fairs, posited that during the exposition in Atlanta, “the only official foreign building was the Mexico and Central America building.”[13] Of all of the buildings at the Tennessee Centennial Exposition, the Commerce building was the largest. (Cardon, p. 28). It housed the foreign exhibits. The Parthenon, a replica of the Greek Parthenon in Athens, was not only popular, but it is also the only remnant of the 1897 Tennessee Centennial which still stands today.

The Tennessee Centennial organizers repeatedly touted its exposition as the place to be from May 1, 1897 to October 30, 1897. With its fantastic light display and its advertisements about President William McKinley starting the celebration with a push of a button from the White House, the Tennessee Centennial planners mustered all of the pride and dignity it could to present its world’s fair as a place of modernity and progress. It was a site where a place could be reserved for innovation and technological advancement. Mexico was no different. Its government wanted to show the world that it had recovered from instability and was on the verge of a political and economic upswing. The world’s fairs provided the place to do just that.

Mexico’s presence at the Paris Exposition in 1889, for example, drew praise and criticism. Its Mexican pavilion was a display of an Aztec inspired building of which Mexican and European critics thought was too exotic. (Schuster, 83). The image of Mexico was important to President Díaz and its rightful place should be shrouded in cohesive nationalism. “Instead of propagating ‘whitening through immigration,’ as Brazil did at the world’s fairs, the Mexican exhibition organizers emphasized the importance of education.” [14] International audiences were the focus of many of the Latin American countries who had the opportunities to participate in world’s fairs. (Munro, 83). The ministry of Economic Development was responsible for the displays at the 1897 Tennessee Centennial in Nashville. (Tenorio-Trillo, 186).

Although Mexico had a building, its governmental officials did not curate the displays in the place that it was given. The University of Chicago’s Department of Anthropology ‘s Frederick Starr was responsible for that duty. (Cardon, 90). Among the artifacts were pottery and weapons which were touted as authentic Aztec weaponry, but according to G. P. Thruston, whose invaluable eyewitness to the items on display in the History Department’s building, stated in 1898, “Prof. Frederick Starr, of the University of Chicago, lent a case of rare terra cotta heads and objects of interest, discovered by him during his recent explorations in Mexico.” [15] Starr added his own personal items to the Mexican artifacts on display. The place of standard and control over its own exhibits, which Mexico maintained at previous world’s fairs, was non-existent at the 1897 Tennessee Centennial Exposition.

In conclusion, at the 1897 Tennessee Centennial and International Exposition, race, space, and place were viable characteristics of the events at its world’s fair. Mexico at the 1897 world’s fair in Nashville, Tennessee, was without its famous Eighth Cavalry Regiment band, there was no appearance by its President Porfirio Díaz, and there were no shouts of “Viva La Mexico!” Though Mexico did not represent with its normal fan-fare and notoriety, as it did at the Atlanta Cotton States Exposition in 1895, a few exhibits of pottery, “Aztec weapons,” and Mexican dancing girls on display at the Cuban Village, were all that was to be remembered of the Mexican presence at the Tennessee Centennial and International Exposition in 1897.

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On August 22, 1895, Dr. R. D. Spalding traveled to Mexico City with a committee representing the Atlanta Cotton States and International Exposition. Upon entering the Mexican palace, the vice chairman presented an invitation to President Porfirio Diaz requesting his personal attendance to Atlanta’s event. In a speech given by Dr. Spalding, President Diaz was urged to contribute an exhibit representing the nation’s products and raw materials, that they, being sister republics, might grow closer in trade. The President was so ecstatic with the manner of the Americans that he interrupted Dr. Spalding mid-speech exclaiming, “I have fallen in love with you already!” A couple days later, Dr. Spalding traveled about 400 kilometers to San Luis Potosi where Governor Carlos Diez Gutierrez invited the Americans to view the city’s massive silver smelter, enjoy several concerts, and discuss the exposition. Dr. Spalding and a senior committee comrade attended a properly executed Mexican bullfight, reportedly, to their incredible enjoyment.

World’s fairs were massively popular, large, and expensive events enjoyed and pursued by people from all across the globe. Not only a great source of fun and excitement, but fairs gave various organizations, states, and countries an opportunity to present their cultures, resources, industries, and architecture for the rest of the world to see. One such fair was the Cotton States and International Exposition of Atlanta, Georgia held at Piedmont Park from September 18, 1895, through December 31, 1895. Stated in the Official Guide to the Cotton States and International Exposition, “the prime object [of the exposition is] to cultivate closer trade relations with South, Central, and Latin American republics.” In the late nineteenth century, the South underwent massive political, societal, economical, and industrial transformations. Some southern leaders and capitalists worked to embrace these shifts and build a New South, which would gain trade relationships with the North, as well as internationally. They wanted to sell the raw materials their land provided: cotton, tobacco, lumber, and coal being at the top of the list. The New South believers had two, most-recognized goals for hosting their exposition: boosterism and increasing trade relations with Mexico, Central, and South American markets. Upon researching Mexico’s role at the exposition, some fascinating information is revealed. Yet little is discussed about how the Mexican government took advantage of this particular world fair. Instead, despite the intensity with which southern and Mexican diplomats and capitalists pursued each other, scholars find a plethora of stories about bullfights and sword fights. [2]

President Diaz promoted the Cotton States and International Exposition around his nation and alerted the committee that a large space would be needed for a planned elaborate Mexican Village. Indeed, a map found in the Official Guide reveals that the Village sat on the largest parcel for an individual nation at Piedmont Park. Drawn on the map are the bullpen, the music stand which would host the Mexican Eighth Regiment military band, a cathedral, and theater. It is apparent by the many newspaper articles printed in Georgia that Mexico was of great interest to southerners, however, not much was found about the particular products and trade ventures resulting from the exposition. Instead, an incredible controversy reveals itself. That is of the proposed bullfights.

Folks all across the nation apparently took issue with the idea of watching bulls be tormented by waving red flags and metal lances, with the potential for ultimate death. This common source of entertainment in Mexico was suddenly under intense scrutiny, including by a southern public who ironically had been forced to cease torturing a whole race of humans just a few decades earlier. On July 25th, the Christian Index published an article disgracing the exposition board for deciding to compromise, allowing the fights if the bulls were not harmed or killed during the show. They referred to the event as being an example of “Mexican barbarism” and claimed that it would be “a mistake to offer such things as educational features.” These harsh accusations reveal judgement and prejudice toward Mexico. Rather than embrace the fights, under the compromise of bull safety, as an acceptable contribution to the exhibit of Mexican culture, many southerners used the example to demoralize Mexican culture. Several times, variations of the word “barbarian” were used. The fact that the Mexican commissionaires were willing to move forward with the bullfights in a softer depiction was not enough to satisfy the naysayers. The exposition President, C. A. Collier, wrote a letter which was partly published in the local newspapers that in order to protect the board’s image, it was decided that the bullfights would not be permitted. This letter was printed just a few days after Dr. Spalding’s splendid experience at the Mexican bullfight he attended in San Luis Potosi. [3]

As the story develops, we see that on September 18th another article is published. Prior to exhibit preparations, Mexican Village commissioner Mr. J. M. Porteous, had agreed to a contract with exposition authorities which stated that the bullfights would be allowed, and he had moved forward under this assumption. When questioned on the issue, Porteous asserted that if the committee did not allow him to carry on with the shows, he would sue them. On September 23rd, five days after opening day, a resolution still had not been made. The reality was that both the exposition committee, and the Mexican Village manager had widely advertised the bullfighting as a main attraction of the exposition, and it seemed a difficult decision to make with the public demanding that the barbaric torture of bulls be erased from the program. [4]

Less than two weeks after opening day, the frustrated Mr. Porteous had another debacle to face. It appears that two Mexican men engaged in a violent fight for love. It was said that the two men involved, one being a matador (a bullfighter), the other a “lazador” (the person who lasso’s the bull), were vying for the same lady’s attention. When one succeeded in taking her on a romantic walk, the other proposed a duel. The Macon Telegraph claims that one man had been badly wounded in the side, “blood spurting,” when Mr. Porteous arrived, just in time to save the lover from a “death-dealing stab.” Despite some journalists embellishing otherwise, no one was severely injured, nor was anyone arrested. Yet this sword fight made it into various newspapers for several days. Amongst tens of thousands of people, hundreds of displays, and innumerable opportunities for entertainment, a brief fight between two Mexican men was of great amusement and mockery to the general southern public.[5]

Finally, by November 2^nd, Mr. Porteous and his fellow commissionaires won, sort of. A month and a half after the fair commenced, visitors would be welcomed to see the highly controversial bullfight show. Compromises were made; an arena was quick-built just outside the fairgrounds and the bullfighting was to be of the “sham” version. Journalists claimed that the fights were still very exciting despite the taming of “the horrible spectacle that characterizes” a true Mexican bullfight of the day. The potential for the fighters to be hurt ensured the attraction would still be one of the most talked about of the exposition, despite its final place outside the exposition walls. 

[6]

On October 3^rd, after visiting a few other cities along the way, Governor Gutierrez arrived at Atlanta to be welcomed by the exposition board, as the man who would be the most important Mexican attendee to the exposition. The governor was overwhelmed with the honor and friendship he received on his tour of America, never having been there before. The expectations he had of Atlanta were exceeded. Publicly, he had nothing but gratitude and hopeful anticipation for relations between the sister republics, although the newspaper could not even bother to spell the prominent governor’s name correctly. The ironic truth that the Governor so innocently described was that until the railroads had been built connecting the South to Mexico, to him, a place like Atlanta might have been as distant in geography and culture as Africa. Of further irony is part of a speech he gives concerning his American welcome where he claims that there is “no knife” that could sever the friendship between Mexico and America. Despite such obvious communication and desire for Mexican/American trade relationships, very little seems to have come from this particular fair in terms of Mexico. Nor were any stories printed about Mexico and the Cotton States and International Exposition more superfluous than those about the bullfights and sword fights. It seems that no matter how the Mexican and American governments wanted to partake in respectful and mutually beneficial relationships, some American people would only ever view their sister republic as “barbaric.”[7]

Thank you to History Librarian, Kristina Claunch and Newton Grisham Library at Sam Houston State University for the help in securing great resources toward this research project. Further mucho graçias to History Professor Dr. Charles Heath. Your encouragement, recommendations, and academic support have been so meaningful.

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There was a strange sight to behold on the shore of Lake Michigan, in Chicago, days before the May 1 opening of the World’s Columbian Exposition in 1893. An agave plant in night caps was inside the temporarily erected Horticultural Building. The plant was not tired; nor was it Mexican of origin. It was grown and presented by the United States and started the process of blooming well before opening day of the fair. The buds were dressed in bed attire to block light hoping to trick the plant from blooming and subsequently its death march. The century plant, as many call the agave or maguey, only blooms once. It shoots a quiote from the center of the plant well above the collection of sharp, leathery leaves, reproduces and then dies. [1]

The agave did not make it through the duration of the fair in plant form. What is most notable about this story is not the failure of silly efforts, but that the presentation of a culturally significant Mexican plant is in its natural state presented by the United States, but elsewhere throughout the fair the plant could be found turned into usable goods as presented by Mexico and other’s. The silences and underrepresentation of agave at the Columbian Exposition exemplify the ways in which the motivations of capitalist events like world’s fairs and the ruling Porfirio Díaz government at the time in Mexico.The crossroads that are all shared here is the manipulation of the native plant in the presentation of the plant showcased and ignored agave in such a way that it encapsulates the overarching understanding of not only what role Mexico’s standing was globally but what was held culturally valuable by the ruling class.

Fairs have a long history of being places where cultures meet one another to share goods, ideas, and commodities. However, following the American Civil war there was a sharp shift towards fairs being a ritual of nation-building, progress, productivity, and capitalism. The Columbian Exposition, honoring the 400th anniversary of Cristopher Columbus’s arrival to the Americas, and celebrated civility, profit, and achievements of high European society. [2] The White City, a nickname given to the fair from the incandescent lights and white plaster buildings that shined white in the electric lighting, hosted dozens of countries from around the world to exhibit their arts, agriculture, technology, and popular goods.

Mexican President Porfirio Díaz was synonymous with the Mexico’s participation in the 1893 World’s Fair. When he his rule in Mexico from 1876 to 1911 he promoted American investments in key industries of mining and transportation conforming to the industrial world’s In Mexico, foreign investments drove agriculture, mining and transportation and the representation that was most desirable for developing industrial countries at this world exhibition was marketability and profitability. A push to modernize the country was paired with a movement away from indigenous culture and representation can also be mirrored in the showing at the Columbian Exposition.

Nationalists undertones were present in fairs in the late nineteenth century, much like those asserted by the Mexican government at the time. The Mexican government pushed for a unified and European monoculture. For powerful nations, it was an opportunity to commemorate the achievements and values. Conversely, developing nations saw fairs as a chance to stand on the same stage as global powers and present local raw materials and goods to an international market. [3] The fair was largely paid for by private donations, and those donations steered the manner of the products presented in the fair.

In the crossroads that are all shared here is the manipulation of the native plant in the presentation of the plant in the Columbian Exposition at Chicago in 1893 showcased and ignored agave in such a way that it encapsulates the overarching understanding of not only what role Mexico’s standing was globally.

It is notable that in a few instances the agave plant is in a sense hijacked by non-Mexican entities. In the February 25, 1893, edition of the Chicago Daily Tribune the agave plants was listed as a part of the Horticultural exhibit for New Mexico, the same one wearing night caps. The sisal fibers are given to South Florida. [4] The control of the agave plant at the fair downplayed any additional attention that the plant would have received and mirrored Mexico’s goals on a larger global scale. The government at the time of the 1893 fair was interested in presenting the profitability of Mexico over the culture, and if culture had to fall to the wayside, so be it.

Part of the Mexican display that made it into the fair is recorded in the History of the World’s Fair (1893), “Visitors to the Horticultural Building may look upon the deadly Mexican aguardiente. There are many other kinds of Mexican wines and cognacs in the display, too, as well as licor de Naranja, which is orange juice, and a good display of fruit pastes and jellies. There are agaves, cocoanuts, grapefruits, mosses, and ferns also in the display. Some dried bananas are shown, just to prove that bananas can be dried. The Mexicans take much pride in the purity of their wines. Commissioner J. Miguel Carabay is in charge of the exhibit.” [5] In this description the consumables of Mexico were put in the forefront, things that had the ability to be exported, like dried bananas.

Mexico had an impressive mining and agricultural showing at the fair, winning some 1,195 awards. [6] One was that to Cenobio Sauza for his brandy mescal, which oddly was left from the account published during or shortly after the fair. The Sauza tequila family, began exporting their distilled agave liquor to the United States as early as 1873 and a push to call the beverage created from specifically the blue weber agave plant. The Sauza family, represented by Cenobio Sauza, participated in the Chicago fair of 1893, and symbolized a turning point for the once indigenous plant. José Orozco writes in “Tequila and the Redemption of Mexico’s Vital Fluid”, “Many mezcaleros like Sauza sympathized with the national government’s modernization project because they understood how Western narratives of Mexican degeneration affected the reputation of their product at home and abroad. Specifically, they were troubled by the fact that foreigners seemed not to distinguish between their mezcal and their alcoholic beverage that many foreign and domestic observers saw as a significant impediment to modernity, pulque.” [7]

Priorities of the Díaz leadership are mirrored in the Sauza tequila family. Over time the pulque, or agave plant drink had lost favor in larger operations due to shelf stability. When considering what would be presented at the fair only the shelf stable and exportable, they went and further modified the plant for it to be a safe product, but thus stripped away the tradition. This is an important parallel that solidifies the relationship between World’s Fairs in general and people and economies that hold profit and modernity over tradition and true history of cultures.

In The Official Directory of the World’s Columbian Exposition (1893) the agave plant gets no mention at all in the “Foreign Participation” under Mexico’s name. In fact, the only mention of the agave at all is credited to Ecuador through sisal being produced into ropes and cords also in the Agricultural Building. [8] What is mentioned under Mexico their features in the Department of Mines and Mining, the Department of Manufactures and Liberal Arts, and the Department of Agriculture. What is included there is the name Díaz, in reference to Porfirio Díaz’s wife’s interest and the display Mexico presented in the Woman’s Department. This publication represents what culturally was found usable for industry.

In an artistic, unintended act of destiny the deficiency by the maguey plant at the Columbian Exposition, its untimely bloom represented the ways that profit, and power can lead to the manipulation of culturally significant plants. The coming together of people, especially in the Gilded Age, was the beginning of the age of consumerism and that is apparent through the representation and treatment of the agave.

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“An international celebration of peace and good will in the Americas,” reads an advertisement announcing the harmonious theme of the Greater Texas and Pan-American Exposition of 1937 (“Exposition”).[1] The 1937 Exposition was a creature of its time. Historian of fairs Robert Rydell claims, “depression-era fairs…became cultural icons for the nation’s hopes and future.”[2] This Exposition, like other fairs, “provided a tangible way for powerful institutions, such as local and national governments, as well as elite economic interests to broadcast visually their worldviews to a large audience.”[3] Promotional materials crafted a romantic vision of a shared experience of empire, telling potential fairgoers, “the spread of empire throughout the Western World in less than five centuries is the phenomenal story of the Americas...to promote the feeling of international goodwill between the twenty-one independent nations of the New World, as voiced so strongly by President Franklin Delano Roosevelt before the 1936 Inter-American Peace Conference in Buenos Aires, is the magnificent Greater Texas and Pan American Exposition at Dallas.”[4] One author notes, “the stated intention of the 1937 fair was to usher in an era of peace and cooperation between all the countries of the Western hemisphere with Texas at the heart of a great Pan-American economic engine.”[5] Nevertheless, underlying this Pan-American ideal was a “tension inherent in the asymmetrical U.S.-Latin American relationship.”[6]

Overshadowed by and often collapsed into the Texas Centennial Exposition of 1936 (“Texas Centennial”), the Exposition’s distinguishing features are largely overlooked. The Exposition opened at Dallas’s Fair Park just six months after the close of the Texas Centennial. The grounds and buildings were repackaged with a Latin American flair representative of the stereotypes and clichés of the time, and, unlike the Texas Centennial, all of the nations of the Americas were invited to construct exhibits.[7] As befitted Texas’s nearest neighbor, Mexico’s exhibit at the Exposition occupied the largest space allotted in the Rotundo le las Americas.[8] However, Mexico threatened to remove its exhibit at least twice, and Mexican athletes were mysteriously absent from the Exposition’s widely advertised Pan-American games. This paper explores Mexico’s muted embrace of the Greater Texas and Pan-American Exposition within the context of its political and economic relationship with the United States in 1937.

In keeping with the Exposition’s theme of cooperation, a highly anticipated schedule of friendly, international athletic events was planned, which some recognize as the first Pan-American Games.[9] The Exposition hired Washington, D.C. businessman George Preston Marshall as Director of Sports and Entertainment. Marshall viewed, “sport as the key to expanding trade and tourism in the Western Hemisphere.”[10] Planned events included track and field; boxing; a soccer tournament to include “the strongest units of South America and the champions of Mexico and the United States;” car racing; a motorboat regatta; and “the crowning glory,” a 1,400-mile foot race from Mexico City to Dallas.[11] $100,000 of prize money was allocated for winners of the events.[12] The pomp and circumstance of the athletic competition would be demonstrated by elaborate opening ceremonies and the “flame of friendship” atop the “Tower of Flame,” the largest sports monument built in the United States at that time.[13] State Department envoys embarked on a twenty-nation tour of Latin America to personally deliver invitations to participate in the Exposition and to send athletes to compete in the games.[14] Despite these efforts and widespread coverage by newspapers, the games were smaller in reality than envisioned, and notably lacked participation by Mexico. Early reporting claimed that Mexico had accepted the invitation and would send a soccer team. In April of 1937, it seemed the United States, Uruguay, Argentina, Mexico, and possibly Cuba had entered teams in the soccer tournament.[15] By June 8, one week before the soccer tournament was to begin, newspapers declared that the soccer tournament would include Peru, Argentina, Mexico, and the United States.[16] Just before the Exposition’s opening, a quiet mention was made in the Dallas Morning News that Mexico would not be sending a soccer team after all.[17] It is unclear what happened with the Peruvian and Uruguayan teams. At least one newspaper reported that the teams failed to attend due to “mismanagement by tournament officials.”[18] In the end, only the United States, Canada, and Argentina fielded teams in the soccer tournament. Meanwhile, numerous newspapers continued to anticipate the exciting spectacle of the road race from Mexico City to Dallas.[19] It was postponed and eventually cancelled due to “complex arrangement details.”[20]

One clue to a deeper reason than mere inconvenience for Mexico’s withdrawal from the games is noted by historian Mark Dyreson. He refers to a “quiet Mexican boycott,” citing Mexican newspaper La Afición. La Afición appears to have missed the distinction between the Exposition and the Texas Centennial, urging readers not to attend the games. In strong language, the newspaper condemned the games as a celebration of the “despoilation” of Mexico’s former province, Texas, and stated, “frankly, we could blush with shame if a Mexican team in any sport attended the Pan-American Field Day.”[21] Dyreson argues, “Mexico’s athletic boycott of the Pan-American festival scuttled Marshall’s proposed Mexico City to Dallas footrace and put a damper on the international and interracial harmony the Pan-American Games would allegedly foment.”[22] As it happens, La Afición’s position was not entirely unfounded.

From the outset, Exposition director, Frank McNeny, took pains to set the Exposition apart from the Texas Centennial. A newspaper article from January 8, 1937, reported McNeny had asked the public to use the correct name of the Greater Texas and Pan-American Exposition because the Texas Centennial, “commemorated a glorious past,” but this Exposition, “will look to the brilliant future.”[23] Despite McNeny’s efforts, in the rush to convert the Texas Centennial into the Exposition, the continuities of time and space may have confused some audiences. One of the Texas Centennial’s main attractions had been the Cavalcade of Texas. The 1937 Exposition reinvented this as the Cavalcade of the Americas. One author says it “backfired,” arguing, “the revised Dallas fair, with its commingling of Aztec, rodeo, and Americana, indicated that the complicated invented hemispheric subject it projected had not been resolved in the sociopolitical reality of Dallas, Texas.”[24] A particularly contentious part of the Cavalcade was a historically inaccurate dramatization of an Aztec ritual sacrifice of a maiden.[25] The Fort Worth Star-Telegram reported that Mexican Consul Adolfo Domínguez protested until the board of directors of the Exposition corrected the ritual to accurately depict the sacrifice of a warrior instead.[26] Another conflict involving four wax panels, retained from the Texas Centennial, glorifying Texas’s victory over Mexico, prompted Mexican President Lázaro Cárdenas to instruct Consul Domínguez to “withdraw Mexican exhibits unless the offending wax panels were deleted.”[27] Both of these complaints were addressed to Mexico’s satisfaction, and its exhibits remained. Still, one wonders if insults like these contributed to Mexico’s withdrawal from the Pan-American games.

Finally, Mexico’s absence from the Pan-American games in 1937 may have been indicative of larger political and economic initiatives pursued by the Mexican government. President Cárdenas had set Mexico on a course toward economic self-determination. Mexico was likely less interested in the Exposition’s enticement to boost trade than in taking charge of its own economy. Newspaper headlines from 1937, such as “Mexico Slows Reform Drive: Financial Crisis Faces Cárdenas,” reveal a Mexico in transition and facing critical decisions.[28] As one editor wrote, “the government is attempting to throw off the yoke of the foreign exploiter. It is trying to reclaim Mexico for Mexicans.”[29] Through this lens, one could argue the games were a victim of bad timing. The U.S. had yet to prove itself a good neighbor when faced with a Latin American nation prioritizing its own interests over U.S. trade investments. Perhaps Mexico sensed that Texas had more to gain from Mexican participation from the Exposition games than Mexico did.

As a creature of its time, the Greater Texas and Pan-American Exposition cast an aspirational vision of hemispheric harmony in an effort to boost trade and bolster political alliances during a global depression and war brewing in Europe. The Pan-American games themselves were an ambitious undertaking and deserve credit for inspiring what would become the Pan-American Games that we know today. In the end, the games were considered a successful “link in the good-neighbor policy,” attended by 55,000 Texans, prompting the Brazilian ambassador to offer to host the games the following year.[30] However, Mexico’s absence from the games must have seemed glaring given its proximity to Dallas and early expectations of involvement. Time and place matter. Hosting the Exposition only six months after the close of the Texas Centennial in the same venue may have made it difficult to distinguish the two fairs. Instances of cultural insensitivity may have caused Mexico to doubt Texan overtures of neighborliness. Finally, the Pan-American games were perhaps ahead of their time. Mexico was in the process of pursuing a path of economic independence. Only a few months after the close of the Exposition, President Cárdenas would execute the pivotal nationalization of the oil industry in Mexico. This would place the Good Neighbor Policy in a real-world contest rather than in one played on the pitch.

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HemisFair, held in San Antonio, Texas in 1968, was the first and only world’s fair to be held in the American Southwest. Jerome K. Harris (a local San Antonio business owner) originally proposed the idea of a “HemisFair” that would focus on Latin America. The idea was endorsed by Congressman Henry B. González, also a San Antonio native, who is most frequently credited with the proposal for the fair. [1] The theme of the fair became “The Confluence of Civilization in the Americas”, as part of the Pan-American trend that had dominated world’s fairs since 1901 with the Pan-American Exposition in Buffalo, New York. The world's fairs have been an avenue to display and share culture since Great Britain’s Crystal Palace exhibit in 1851, however, early fairs often displayed indigenous peoples or other nationalities as oddities and exotics as a way to establish superiority and cultural dominance of the Europeans and Americans who were hosting the fairs. The Pan-American-themed fairs had sought to move away from this discriminatory display and celebrate the many cultures that made up the Americas, most however were unsuccessful in portraying these cultures accurately. The potential for San Antonio to adequately represent and include the Latin Americans in their fair was incredibly high considering Texas’s heritage with Mexico and with San Antonio having the largest Mexican American population in the United States. [2] With this previous trend of inadequately representing other cultures in the world’s fairs, was the 1968 HemisFair successful in displaying the “Confluence of Civilization in the Americas” in regard to the Latin American communities? Yes. HemisFair was successful in accurately representing Latin Americans, fair organizers went to great lengths to extend diplomacy and involve Latin American countries in a world fair for the first time. Yet, despite the upward mobility middle-class Mexican Americans of San Antonio experienced from the fair, lower-class Mexican Americans found little to no benefits from HemisFair. Lower-class Mexican Americans specifically faced exclusion and discrimination throughout the organizing, building, and execution of the fair. [3]

The design of HemisFair was more inclusive than previous Pan-American fairs and organizers put substantial thought into representing the confluence, or merging, of civilizations that created the Americas. This effort is best exemplified in the logo created for the fair, a swirling circle set to the left side of an outer circle. It is symbolic of the creation of the world and men traveling West where they merge and create the “Confluence of Civilizations in the Americas”, the theme for the fair. Additionally, HemisFair had four sub-themes: The Legacy, The Harvest, The Promise, and The Folklore. “The Legacy” became the main theme, which centered around becoming citizens of the Western Hemisphere through immigration. HemisFair organizers felt that this was a common ground between people of the Americas “all of whom sprang from the same common heritage-immigration.” [4] This symbolism and focus on immigration was exclusionary to the indigenous people of the Americas but was unique in the sense that it did not assign Otherness to any ethnicity. Whereas previous fairs intended to exhibit their superiority and excellence to the people attending, HemisFair intended to celebrate the cultures, specifically Latin cultures, that established the Americas.

In addition to the inclusion of Latin Americans in the design of the fair, many middle-class Mexican Americans took on leadership positions within HemisFair’s organization committee, San Antonio Fair, Inc. (SAF). Henry B. González, the first Mexican American from Texas to be elected to the U.S. House of Representatives, became the face of HemisFair. [5] He proposed the idea for HemisFair and oversaw its approval by Congress. González was able to use his place on the SAF committee to incorporate more Mexican Americans into leadership positions. Two of those men, Ed Castillo and Carlos Freymann acted as public relations, interpreters, and liaisons between the US and Latin American countries to promote HemisFair. Castillo and Freymann were given the position of ambassadors to Latin American countries, their ability to speak Spanish “reaffirmed the notion of Pan-American unity and helped mediate cross-cultural interactions.” [6] Henry A. Guerra, Jr., a San Antonio radio and television personality, introduced designs for a Plaza de Libertad (Liberty Plaza) that would showcase significant figures that contributed to America’s liberation. Although his designs did not make it into the final designs for the fair, Guerra contributed significantly by serving as “international department liaison” where he facilitated participation with Latinos during the fair preparations. [7] The contribution of these men was instrumental in the success of HemisFair’s goal of confluence between the United States and Latin American countries.

Not only was HemisFair unique in its goal of equal representation of Latin America, but many Latin countries collaborated in the organization and design of the fair. The Latin American Committee was formed to ensure San Antonio’s Latino community was involved and consulted. Further, the Pan-American Public Relations Association “included two representatives from each of the twelve major ‘Latin’ civic organizations”, who were consulted on ways to accurately incorporate Mexican culture and heritage into the fair. Henry Guerra also suggested collaboration with the Mexican Consulate which later led to the creation of a Mexican American Friendship Committee. Several Mexican architects and artists as well as the Brazilian landscapist, Roberto Burle Marx, were consulted and included in the designs for HemisFair. [8] Mexican artist and architect Juan O’Gorman was commissioned to create a piece for the fair. He created “Confluence of Civilizations in the Americas” and it welcomed guests at the entrance. [9] The Foreign Participation Area was created to provide exhibition space for other countries and “numerous” Latin American countries participated. [10] Mexico acted as a major contributor and sponsor of HemisFair. They boasted one of the largest exhibits. A pamphlet from the Mexican Pavillion boats of the rich history of Mexico as well as technological advancements the country had achieved in modernity, something Latin American countries had been denied in previous fairs that only incorporated their wild and indigenous past. [11] Coincidently, Mexico hosted the Olympics later that year, which both countries used to their advantage. Mexican and American officials wanted to encourage travel between the two events. The Pan-American Highway was advertised to promote this transportation. U.S. immigration officials were instructed to practice “goodwill” towards Mexican and Latin Americans traveling to HemisFair. However, this was not always observed when it came to working-class Mexicans because of the increased illegal migration that resulted from the Bracero Program that lasted from 1942-1964. [12]

With the intentional inclusion of Latin Americans, such as The American GI Forum and League of United Latin American Citizens (LULAC), in the design and organization of the fair by the SAF, many Latin and specifically Mexican American organizations saw the fair as an opportunity to “achieve full integration and… first-class citizenship.” [13] Texas officials hoped that the theme and the fair itself would “ease racial tensions between civil rights groups”, this garnered the help of Mexican American and African Americans activists with the expectation of increased jobs and economic opportunities for their communities. [14] Mexican American organizations and officials sought the use of pluralism, or incorporation with other Latin American communities, to increase their social and political identities. They began identifying themselves as “Latin American” rather than “Mexican American”, as in LULAC. [15] Although LULAC and the NAACP originally supported the fair, they realized that it did not provide the job opportunities and equality that were promised. Further, younger Latin organizations, such as Chicano activists and the Mexican American Youth Organization (MAYO), protested the fair from the beginning because of the racial inequality it highlighted, believing that “mega-event” like HemisFair only furthered class divisions. [16]

Although HemisFair provided leadership opportunities for middle-class Mexican Americans and Latin American countries, lower-class Mexican Americans experienced discrimination and exclusion by the SAF. The construction of the fairgrounds for HemisFair created ethnic tensions as it “emerged out of a process of ethnic erasure and urban cleansing.” [17] The city was still heavily segregated, as housing segregation had not ended in Texas until the passage of the Civil Rights Act of 1968. [18] The site chosen for the fairgrounds destroyed a 92-acre multiethnic community and displaced over 2,300 residents. [19] In addition to losing their homes, lower-class Mexican Americans were largely excluded from participation in the fair because of the cost of the fair. A study done by Richard Harris demonstrates that despite the progress displayed towards the larger Latin American community in regards to HemisFair, the following generations of Mexican Americans experienced little upward mobility in socioeconomic status. Harris analyzed statistics for jobs held by different ethnicities in San Antonio and compared their annual incomes from different years throughout the 1960s, 70s, and 80s. In the conclusion of his study, he stated, “At present, it must be concluded that San Antonio Mexican Americans have not attained equal chances for occupational success even in the city's relatively favorable environment… Judging from the evidence of this analysis, no progress has been made toward the greater occupational integration.” [21] As a result, we must conclude that lower-class Mexican Americans remained lower-class and therefore received little to no benefit for the inclusivity of Latin Americans during HemisFair.

Despite the unfortunate exclusion of lower-class Mexican Americans in HemisFair ‘68, the fair was largely successful in achieving a “Confluence of Civilizations in the Americas.” Several Latin Americans not only participated in the fair but held leadership positions. They were accurately represented by the people of San Antonio and the multiple Latin Americans that were commissioned to assist in the design of the fair. Regarding the exclusion of lower-class Mexican Americans, it is difficult to argue that the exclusion resulted from racial discrimination since the SAF went to such great lengths to justly consult many facets of the Latin American community. Further research into this argument might include data about the participation of lower-class citizens of other ethnicities to determine whether the experiences of lower-class Mexican Americans was the result of racial discrimination or simply class discrimination.

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When discussing the transatlantic slave trade and the effects of the involuntary forced migration of Africans, places such as The United States, Jamaica, and Brazil are commonly the focal point of conversations. Interestingly, the Black enslaved experience in Spanish colonial Mexico has generally been overlooked, particularly in the Yucatan. The enslaved Afro-Yucatecan experience, similar to those across the Americas, did not remain stagnant; in fact, the experience evolved based on the time's social, political, and economic issues. This scholarship will answer the question, “How did the societal need for enslaved Afro-Yucatecans transform throughout the Spanish Colonial era?” Furthermore, the scholarship will examine the origins of slavery in Colonial Yucatan, the intermixing of the enslaved into colonial society, and the decline of slavery.

By 1520 the Spanish colonial conquest of Mexico resulted in the forced assimilation of indigenous people into colonial society, performing manual and subservient tasks. However, the conquest had other results such as, bloody conflicts, a hostile indigenous population, and epidemics that diminished the native Maya population, which the Spanish used as the colonial labor force. In response, the Spanish government turned to an alternative method to provide subservient and manual labor, African Slaves. The Spanish justified black enslavement using religious-legal principles by arguing that the empire had no territorial holdings in Africa or to African exposure to Islamic influence. Thus, the Spanish Empire used enslavement to evangelize and convert Africans to Catholicism, the mandatory acculturation of Africans to European customs, values, and standards, and the ability to deny blacks citizenship, equality, and oppression lawfully.

The African enslaved population of Yucatan was rarely brought directly from Africa. Before being enslaved in Yucatan, most enslaved people were brought from other parts of the Spanish Empire or other European colonial holdings. When enslaved people arrived at the slave ports of the Yucatan, primarily Campeche, they were sold individually or in pairs. The population of the colonial Yucatan was relatively small, and the enslaved population within the Yucatec populous was trivial. According to Matthew Restall in his book entitled The Black Middle: Africans, Mayas, and Spaniards in Colonial Yucatan, “Enslaved Africans were thus brought to Yucatan in relatively small groups, and were purchased in even smaller numbers, often individually; those who migrated from other colonies, Spanish or British, also came as individuals or tiny groups…the negro population in the colony thus remained relatively small throughout the colonial period…" Unlike in other areas of the Americas, slavery in Yucatan was not the central or the primary labor force, that role went to the Maya inhabitants. Therefore, the Yucatecan government was not a slave society but a society with enslaved people.

The enslaved Africans generally worked in two capacities: laborer and servant. It was more common for men to work as laborers in the rural areas of the peninsula. Slave men’s roles included miners, cattle hands, field laborers, and managers of the estancia (Estate). Enslaved women performed domestic roles such as cooking, cleaning, laundry, and caretaking. In contrast, Spanish colonial life was centered on urban settlements such as Merida and Campeche. In the towns and cities of the Yucatan, the enslaved worked as servants. Enslaved men performed roles such as coachmen, caretakers, grooms, travel companions, and bodyguards, while enslaved women were tasked with domestic positions like their rural counterparts. Another commonality between urban and rural women was that some enslaved women assumed the role of their don (master’s) concubine and would have children fathered by their masters. This relationship between the black slaves and their masters would result in a new social class in the Yucatecan social structure.

The Mestizaje (Mixed Race) population grew from relationships between blacks and Spanish or indigenous populations. The mulattos populous would rapidly grow to eclipse the African population; according to Valdez in his editorial entitled The Decline of Slavery in Mexico, “American-born blacks comprised somewhat more than a third of the total number of enslaved people between the 1660s and the 1750s, but practically disappeared by the 1780s. Mulattoes increased in relative importance continuously, from about one-third of the total enslaved people sold in the 1660s to almost 90 percent by the 1780s." The rise of the Mulattos brought a shift in the Afro-Yucatecan social structure and coincided with two increasingly demographic changes in colonial Mexico. First, the rise in the indigenous population. By the mid-seventeenth century, the Native Americans (who were the traditional labor force used in the Spanish Empire) had begun to recuperate from the devastating effects of the Spanish Conquest. The increase in population coincided with the rise in wages labor. Wage labor led to a decrease in demand for slave labor; Valdez provides supports this claim by stating,

From the 1630s through the 1690s, there was a gradual drop in the prices of enslaved people. From an average of about 430 pesos, the price of young adult black males fell to about 340 pesos by the 1660s, and they remained relatively stable for the remainder of the century. The moderate drop in price by mid-century is consistent with the view that the worst of the labor shortage of the 1630s had eased by mid-century and that non-slaves were performing an increasing amount of labor.

The price of the enslaved steadily decreased with the growth of wage labor and would continue to decline into the 1700s and throughout the 1800s. Although slavery remained in Mexico until 1829, the institution's need was gradually crumbling.

The second demographic change was the emancipation of African and mulatto enslaved. Black emancipation in Mexico happened in several ways; enslaved people could buy their freedom, their master could grant them their freedom, a patron could pay for their freedom, enslaved people could gain employment to pay for freedom, or they could make an agreement with their former owner to remain as servants after freedom. Ultimately, the demand for enslaved people decreased, and the demand for wage labor increased. Simultaneously the Free black population increased; Restall supports this claim when he states, “…the steady process of miscegenation and growth of free-colored people population meant that, in terms of names, blacks slave increasingly indistinguishable from everyone else in the middle sector…” The growth of the free class of Blacks and the decline of the enslaved classes shows that free black labor was replacing enslaved labor, thus, diminishing the necessity of slavery in the Yucatan.

The Spanish government had created a colonial society that was based on social status rather than race. This does not mean that race did not matter; for example, Valdez quotes a Spaniard saying, “Mulattoes were described consistently as unruly, contentious, sneaky, disrespectful and occasionally intelligent, traits considered unbecoming of proper slaves.” The Spanish elites had their racial bias and stereotypes; however, the colonial population was so greatly intermixed that social status became more essential than race; For example, Restall states,

It was age, sex, place of residence, legitimacy or illegitimacy, civic status (whether a landowner or not), occupation; or color occupation, and wealth…purity of blood, honor, integrity, and even place of origin…one’s reputation as a whole. In other words, rank was determined by calidad, which was determined by everything that a person was…

Social status in the Yucatan was a loose concept based more upon a series of factors than racial ordinated position. The moveability of the colonial social structure allowed blacks, particularly Mulattos to advance and integrate into Yucatecan culture. Just as status varied so did racial identity; Restall argues in his book, “…in a society without such a system, and with plastic socioracial categories, the elision of portions of a person’s ancestry was more possible…” Similar to status, race was an ever-changing situation. At different times, bi-racial people choose different racial identities and categories.

By the eighteenth century, slave imports decreased to half the price they had been sixty years before, due to the indigenous and Mestizo (person of Spanish and Indigenous descent) populations replacing African slave labor. During the mid-17th and early 18th century, enslaved Africans replaced Mulattos in the sugar hacienda in Southern Mexico. Simultaneously, the exact same demographic shift occurred in the mines. The mixed race and native people wage-based labor gradually replaced enslaved labor. The cost of enslavement did not out weight the profit, especially since Mexico already had a labor force it could exploit. Slavery ended during the Mexican Revolution when Miguel Hidalgo y Costilla called for the end of slavery in 1810. The Mexican government legally abolished slavery in 1829.

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The streets of Izamal, a small town about 70 kilometers south of the capital Mérida on the Yucatán Peninsula, are filled with tourists and natives alike to see a tradition that dates back decades. The statue of Our Lady of Izamal is processed throughout the yellow town, beginning at the Convent of San Antonio de Padua, signifying the start of the weeklong celebration of the Immaculate Conception in early December. Flowers, songs, and worship are visible as the Blessed Virgin Mother makes her way throughout the town, which will lead to a Catholic mass. A sight different from the Maya celebrations documented by Franciscan Friar Diego de Landa (1524-1579) in the sixteenth century. [1]

Two thousand years before the arrival of the Spanish, Izamal was created as a religious center for the Maya named after the ancient Maya god Itzamna, where Mayas pilgrimed every year to partake in their festivities and celebrations. [2] Religion played an essential role in life for the native Maya. In Izamal, the Maya culture was represented by five grand religious structures and monuments associated with local deities; Kinich Ahau (Sun God), whose image is on the side of one of the temples. These celebrations and festivals date back to the completion of Uxmal and Chichén Itzá (550-800 AD). [3] This is seen in the Mayas' celebrations, dedicating time and effort to the dead in vast cemeteries dedicated to the deities for some specific quality. Artwork around Izamal that shows celebrations occurring; can also be seen hidden in some murals of the Convent of San Antonio de Padua, showing the Maya culture did not die with their conversion.[4] Pilgrimages happened to this area for the five structures, resulting in festivals and dedications to the gods they stand for, such as Kinich Ahau through tribunal war dances. These festivals were known throughout the calendar year and included sacrifices of animals and dedication with various precious stones like gold and silver to please their deities. [5] This was done to stop droughts, cure illness or appease demons noted by Landa in his writings. Other reports of these sacrifices are said to have been destroyed by Landa in destroying the Maya codices.

The entire Yucatán Peninsula, not just Izamal, saw a religious revival with the Spanish Catholic priests of the Franciscans, Dominicans, Augustinians, and Jesuits orders.[6] Throughout the region, native labor was used to build churches and parishes to become a staple in their culture. The Blessed Virgin Mother, or, what Catholics call the Immaculate Conception, was the driving force behind Bishop Diego de Landa’s obligation they had as a Franciscan priest [7] to evangelize the native population. This devotion to the Blessed Virgin Mother would prove its importance by introducing the statue and image of Our Lady of Izamal. The Convent of San Antonio de Padua was shown with significant importance when Friar Landa completed construction in his book Yucatán Before and After Conquest, which took away from the other religious structures in Izamal. Friar Landa was then sent to Guatemala after repenting for the destruction of the Maya codices to construct two statues of the Blessed Mother. One for Izamal and the other for Mérida. These statues became the area's centerpiece and are officially known for helping the region more than once. The friar’s statue is in the monumental yellow building seen today in Izamal. It was moved back and forth across the peninsula, where stories of incredible miracles took place. Recorded in engraved stone, these miracles remedied epidemics, grasshopper plagues, and other natural disasters in the area. [8] However, in 1829, a fire destroyed the original statue of Our Lady. In due and just service to the crown, the second statue in Mérida was gifted to the Izamal, signifying the Blessed Virgin's sheer importance in this area.

These festivals for Our Lady of Izamal began in the colonial era with the Spanish and have lasted into the twenty-first century, which has grown vastly. These celebrations are always practiced on the week of December 8th, the feast day of the Immaculate Conception. Dedication to Our Lady in recent years has shown up in more research, and we see an increase in pilgrimages to Izamal every year. In Ilia Alvarado-Sizzos's study, she shows that between December 8th to December 12th, around 8,000 pilgrims make their way to Izamal to celebrate the festivities. These festivities are documented in prayers such as novenas, chaplets, and the most holy rosary, worship with music, and devotion in food and markets to Our Lady in search of miracles or thanksgiving. They offered a different picture than the Maya festivities Landa noted before Our Lady's introduction. However, the main message portrayed by Our Lady has remained the same since Friar Landa dedicated it to Izamal: that she is the divine protector of the town, and the people are worthy of divine intervention. [9] Various festivities happen, including a fair that offers vendors throughout Izamal where food, alcoholic beverages, clothes, religious souvenirs, and other items can be bought in Our Lady’s honor. Other festivities provide a more spiritual tone, such as mass, singing birthday hymns, and offering flowers to the images. There is also a holy relic dedication that individuals believe in holding divine power that will protect them throughout the year. The celebration is done by both natives and foreigners from across the globe to show their dedication to the true power Our Lady offers and is still present to this day. A few things have changed since the Spanish Colonial era, but the devotion to Our Lady of Izamal has remained constant since her introduction in the 16th century.

The old Maya religious center, now home to La Ciudad Amarilla (The Yellow City), offers a sense of magical powers in healing, grace, and vast miracles that date back to the mid-sixteenth century. In December, pilgrims trek to this small town on the Yucatán Peninsula to show gratitude and witness one of the Catholic Church’s key figures: Our Lady of Izamal. In a culture that once celebrated various deities, there now stands an image and statue of the Blessed Virgin where thousands come every year to pray and worship in Marian tradition. [10]

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During the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, the Maya people in the northern Yucatán Peninsula, especially around the region of Izamal, experienced a process of conversion to Christian Catholicism led by a limited number of Spanish friars and priests. This study aims to demonstrate that the Yucatec Maya embraced elements of Catholicism due to connections with their own traditional worldviews and established spiritual mentalities. Rather than focusing on the violent aspects of Spanish colonization, this study highlights the largely peaceful and natural facets of syncretism, a merging of traditional Yucatec Maya and Catholic practices.

The syncretic process, which involved the merging of indigenous religious practices and Catholicism, appears within four key aspects: saint veneration, festivals and holidays, rituals, and pilgrimages. Among these elements, saint veneration provided the foundation for structuring and linking these practices. By examining primary sources, available case studies, field work, and material evidence, this essay seeks to provide a comprehensive explanation of these syncretic practices, their origins, and their significance. Friar Diego de Landa's Relación will be the starting point for analysis and interpretation of indigenous Maya practices prior to the Conquest. [1] This will be followed by a comparison of documented Maya Catholic practices surrounding the cult of the most important aspect of Mary in the Yucatán, in her aspect as the Virgin of Izamal. This will demonstrate influences and links to previous Maya traditions, and when applicable, compared with modern syncretic Maya practice. [2]

Ultimately, this study will contribute to a deeper understanding of the peaceful blending of Yucatec Maya and Catholic practices during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. The ways in which the Yucatec Maya adapted and integrated elements of Catholicism into their existing spiritual beliefs, demonstrate the resilience and adaptability of their culture, in the face of significant external challenges.

In examining the four key areas of Yucatec Maya syncretism, saint veneration stands out as the most significant, playing a central role in the other syncretic practices of festivals, ceremonies, and pilgrimages. [3] Furthermore, the Maya linked these practices closely to the cult of the Virgin of Izamal, demonstrating her civic primacy. [4] The Catholic practices endorsed by Spanish missionaries offered a means for the continuation of multiple types of pre-Conquest worship. According to Diego de Landa, “so many idols did they have, that their gods did not suffice them, there being no animal or reptile of which they did not make images, and these in the form of their gods or goddesses.”[5] He notes that while there existed many images of stone, they greatly valued images of wood, and respectively noted that they “honored them because of what they represented,” despite being crafted by human hands and not divine in origin. [6]

But what did these “idols” and images represent for the Yucatec Maya? As De Landa notes, their images could be gods, but there is evidence to suggest that they could also represent a number of entities within the Maya spiritual and geographic landscape. Besides a number of common cultural deities in the Yucatán Peninsula, Classic and Postclassic Maya identified strongly with their local civic identity, often also tied to one or more major patron deities. For instance, Itzamna was revered at Izamal, Kukulcan in Mayapan and Chichen Itza, and Ah Muzen Cab in Tulum. [7]

Maya engraved images could have also represented more than their gods, but also the spirits of the land and family ancestors. The spirits of the land, or the "lords" of the mountains and waters, are not entirely understood in their differences with other spiritual beings, except that they dwelled in the natural landscape and geography outside of the cities. [8] In contrast, Maya cities were home to the aforementioned major gods. Thanks again to De Landa, we have a better understanding of how Yucatec Maya used carved images to honor and venerate their deceased family members and ancestors, at least among the wealthier classes. De Landa writes that they “made statues of wood, made hollow…then they burned part of the body, and put part of the ashes therein…[and] kept them together with all the other images…among other idols, with great reverence and affection.”[9] He even says that the Maya would preserve some of the skin and teeth of the dead person on the statue, and present them offerings of food and drink, as if they were still living among them. [10]

This specific and widespread Maya practice, combined with other applications of engraved images symbolizing powerful spiritual forces, readily allowed for syncretism with Catholic saint veneration, particularly in the case of the Virgin Mary cult at Izamal. As the most important saint of the Northern Yucatán, she took on numerous functions, primarily as a healer and protector during natural disasters. Furthermore, she represented a shift away from the traditional civic deities and towards a new, Catholic, and Hispanicized civic and regional identity. [11]

The origins and beginnings of saint cults among the Maya, where evidence is available, do indicate a syncretic connection with previous indigenous civic deities, land spirits, and famous ancestors, although there exists a great deal of variation. For the sake of comparison, the origins of saint veneration among the K'iche' Maya in Guatemala serve as an important case, where they preserved translation stories (that is the translation or transference of divine power and relics from one region to another), unlike many Yucatec saints. For example, the cult of Santiago among the K'iche' maintained a tradition of rejection and acceptance of saintly images. The statues and engraved images of the saint are carried outside the towns and cities, and placed in wells and cenotes, symbolically beaten, and then brought back, combining the elements of festival, ritual, and pilgrimage in this one event. This represents both the status of Catholic saints as foreign visitors, but also connects them with previous beliefs of land spirits living in the wilderness, now accepted in the civic spaces. [12]

Unfortunately in the case of the Virgin of Izamal, available archival records are silent on the hagiographic origins of the saint, and De Landa himself, bishop of Izamal during the mid sixteenth century at the time of her translation, does not even mention her presence. [13] Instead, we must rely on a general narrative source from the following century (1633), the Historia de Yucatán: Devocionario de Nuestra Señora de Izamal y Conquista Spiritual, written by Fray Bernardo de Lizana. [14] Lizana’s work is primarily concerned with recorded miracles of the Virgin, and does not record the actual circumstances of the Virgin of Izamal’s translation or origins. Lizana did record the earliest instance of a commission for an Italian artist to create the earliest image of the Virgin Mary by De Landa himself. This commission seemed to have been originally intended only for De Landa’s Convento de San Antonio de Padua, built upon the old temple of Itzamna. [15]

The significance and spiritual statement of this commision, and the presence of the new saint, literally and symbolically on top of a previous Maya center of spiritual power cannot be overestimated. Besides the singular site of Izamal, Fransiscan missionaries regularly exploited and used architecture as a means of co-opting indigenous spatial understandings of authority. [16] While this strategy had mixed success elsewhere, it proved triumphant because of the previous Yucatec Maya associations and practices of communal veneration centered around the site of Izamal.

The city of Izamal received its name from the previous Maya deity, Itzamna, a god of creation and healing. Before the conquest, this city had been a site of pilgrimage for those seeking remedies. [17] During the Yellow Fever outbreak of 1648 in the Yucatán Peninsula, the indigenous nobility of Izamal organized a formal procession of the physical image and statue of the Virgin from Izamal. This procession included stops along all of the major villages between Izamal, and the Spanish capital of Merida, for locals to offer prayers and offerings to the saint, hoping to relieve the disease. [18] This may appear to have been a wholly Catholic instance of saint veneration, since similar processions are practiced in Europe. However, there is evidence for a Maya precedent and foundation. More importantly, this event clearly illustrates the different interpretations of the same Catholic religious activity by both Spanish and indigenous Maya audiences. [19]

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Along the Yucatán Peninsula in Mexico, there was once a mighty city described by Father Diego de Landa as “as great as gold and silver”[1]. It was a center of trade and religion for the Mayas of Northern Yucatán and was a jewel in the crown of those people. It remains the most famous city of the Maya, with millions of visitors seeing this great city each year. It is named Chichén Itzá or “At the mouth the well of the Itza”. However, one temple, “the temple of the warriors”, bears a striking resemblance to a site hundreds of miles away from Chichén Itzá in what is now the state of Hidalgo. There, a site called “Pyramid B” has more than a passing resemblance to the “Temple of the Warriors”, one of the great city’s masterpieces. This site belonged to the Toltecs, an enigmatic empire that had a profound influence on the surrounding civilizations. How did a central Mexican empire that is hardly remembered in the present influence one of the greatest cities of the Yucatán? What kind of influence did the Toltecs exert on the Maya? Was this an example of hard or soft power? Were the Mayas of Chichén Itzá conquered by a mighty warrior named after the Feathered Serpent or did they take inspiration from a great foreign power miles away from them? The Toltec influence on Chichén Itzá is a bizarre study in art history. Though the Toltecs are still shrouded in mystery, archeologists have been working hard to unravel this conundrum. It is through architecture and art that archeologists can craft theories and hopefully understand the world in which this strange period existed.

Chichén Itzá was founded between the Late-Classic period (550-830 CE) and the Post-Classic period (950-1539 CE). By the 10th century CE, the city began to resemble the way it does in the present day. It was likely the city developed around the underground water sources found in caves across the Yucatán[2]. The Yucatán Peninsula is a limestone shelf that protrudes into the Gulf of Mexico and Caribbean Sea. Getting water to run agricultural civilizations in the peninsula is a challenge due to rainfall seeping into salty caves. It was from the ingenuity of Maya infrastructure and limestone filtering that the people of Yucatán were able to use fresh water to grow maize and other crops. In the Post-Classical period, Chichén Itzá grew to a massive size of nearly 2 miles across. Some of the most famous sites at Chichén Itzá include the Temple of Kukulkan, a temple dedicated to the Mesoamerican feathered serpent deity, and thirteen courts dedicated to the Mesoamerican Ball Game. Despite its grey-stone appearance today, the city in its height would have been a kaleidoscope of beautiful painted stone buildings, bustling with urban residents. The city was both an economic, artistic and religious hub for the Mayas living in that area. Hundreds of miles away, there was a modest but powerful city called Tula, the Capital of the Toltec State. The Toltecs are spoken with absolute reverence by the Mexica (Aztecs). According to mythical historical accounts, a man named after the god, Quetzalcoatl, conquered a large range in Mexico, even going as far as the Yucatán Peninsula [3] . This has been disputed by historians and archeologists due to the inconsistent and fragmentary records. However, what is not disputed is that the Toltecs had a profound effect on peoples around them. The Mexica looted Toltec ruins for sacred objects and many Mexica leaders married into families that had Toltec blood. Many believed that Quetzalcoatl would return to the world as a man, which was possibly what Montezuma believed the Spaniards were related to. It was believed by the Mexica that the Maya were also conquered by the Toltecs. There is not a lot of evidence to corroborate this theory. The Mexica were notorious propagandists, often revising history to fit their agendas. The Maya do not have references that are known about the conquest specifically. Maya manuscripts did exist, but due to the religious fervor of Catholic clergy like Diego de Landa, many of them were burnt by priests. It is now the job of the historian and the archaeologist to study the stone remains of the Toltec impact.

One of the most famous sites at Chichén Itzá is the Temple of the Warriors. At around forty feet tall, this temple is a stone structure full of stone carved reliefs of various subjects. There are Toltec warriors, great eagles, and jaguars devouring hearts that make up some of the beautifully carved art. Below them, there are a row of columns that probably held some sort of roof structure to the entrance of the temple. There are also fresco murals within parts of the temple. The murals in the temple depict canoe-bound warriors [4] entering a village. There are many depictions of great battles won and warriors surrendering to these great fighters. Various theories abound about whom these warriors are. They range from the reasonable, with Toltec warriors under Quetzalcoatl invading the Yucatán, to the baffling, with Norse Vikings besieging a Maya village. One of the other interesting depictions of the mural involve clay and stone huts, which were often residential areas for Maya. These were much more modest than the great religious structures. Animals like fish and storks were also painted beautifully in these murals. In both the mural and the bas reliefs throughout the temple, the feathered serpent appears. Though the temple is far from what it used to look like now, at the time of its construction it was likely a brightly painted and ornate temple. It was both a testament to the beauty of Maya architecture and the region’s great warriors.

In Tula, “Pyramid B” has more than a passing resemblance to the Temple of the Warriors. It’s foundational structure is nearly the same as the temple of the warriors on a much smaller scale. Both temples contained colonnaded roofs and held warrior iconography. The warriors of Pyramid B were carved “Atlantean” statues that would have been utilized to hold the building’s roof up. It must be stated that “Atlantean” does not refer to the theoretical city of Plato’s writings. This term actually refers to the Greek Titan Atlas. These decorative and practical statuary have parallel examples around the world. It is plain to see that the Toltecs saw these verities of statues as a method to aggrandize their temple. This temple was used to honor the militarism of the Toltecs, which many wanted to imitate. The Mexica propaganda of a strong warrior culture that they inherited from the Toltecs could be expected due to the great focus on militarism. However, the Maya contain more nuance in their culture. In fact, there was no Maya “state”, rather there were multiple city states throughout Mesoamerica of the Maya language group. The Maya was also not as militaristic as the Mexica, though some Maya cultures did participate in war. It is possible that the Maya at Chichén Itzá were not necessarily attempting to portray the exact same military might as the Toltecs when they chose not to depict the “Atlantean” figures. However, the Maya at Chichén Itzá were still dazzled by the design of “Pyramid B”. It appears that the Maya attempted to craft a temple in that same style that surpassed the original. The Temple of the Warriors is far larger than “Pyramid B” and was much more ornately decorated, including the aforementioned reliefs and murals, as well as statuary depictions of the Feathered Serpent.

Staying in the temple of the warriors, another motif of Chichén Itzá visual art is the chacmool. The sculpture is quite simple, depicting a reclined individual looking forward. This individual is covered in regalia called “cihaucotl” [5] on his head, limbs and body, which are similar clothes worn on statues and reliefs found in both Tula and Chichén Itzá. The man appears to be hold some sort of bowl. This type of statuary is not unique to the Maya nor Mexico as some chacmool have been found in places all over Central America. What their exact use is subject to debate, but it seems that they weren’t entirely used for aesthetic purposes. One purpose could have been for sacrifices of food such as maize products, beverages like pulque, or tobacco, which was commonly smoked throughout Mesoamerica. Other believe that people were ritualistically executed over these statues for blood sacrifices, which was not nearly as common amongst the Maya as it was amongst the Mexica. However, it should be not surprising that chacmools were found over a wide range of cultures across Mesoamerican world and they probably had different cultural uses. This is important to understand as Tula also possesses its own chacmool statuary.

What does the chacmool tell us about the cross-cultural influence of the Toltecs? It tells us that while the chacmool motif appears to be universal item across Mesoamerica. Both the Toltecs at Tula and the Maya at Chichén Itzá possess around a dozen of these statues. Neither civilization were the first of the Mesoamerican American civilizations to create these motifs. The first statues were probably created some time in the 9th century CE. The fact that the Toltecs possessed this cultural item, and that item was copied by the Mayas is proof of the soft power of the Toltecs, rather than hard power. If the Toltecs conquered Chichén Itzá, why are their chacmool statues in places as far as Costa Rica and why are there chacmool statues appearing prior to the foundation of the Toltec civilization? The Toltecs, like many nations throughout the world, noticed an artistic motif they found to be aesthetically pleasing and began to adapt their art into their own buildings [6]. The Maya of Chichén Itzá saw that a powerful civilization in central Mexico had a city of great prestige and their art seemed as something they could have adapted in their cities.

One of the more interesting sites at Chichén Itzá is a long wall covered with carven skulls. It is called a tzompantli and it was nearly 200 feet long. It is possible that these stone racks were used to hang actual decapitated heads, possibly the losing team from the Mesoamerican ball game that was played throughout the city. Tzompantli structures were not unique to Chichén Itzá, as a newer version of this structure was found in Tenochtitlan. This example of cranial art was probably as brightly painted as most of the other structures in the city would have been. This example of macabre and violent art is not something typical of the Mayas. Unlike the Mexica, who executed thousands of prisoners for their blood, most Maya blood sacrifice simply required self-injury and bleeding upon sacred places. The place could have been used for ritual blood sacrifices, but it was probably for enemy nobles and would have required some sort of fanfare as many Mayas valued rich blood over the poor. It is likely the Maya also sacrificed the losing team from one the ball game courts. The Maya would have those heads prominently displayed next to the colorfully painted wall of skulls, adding a dash of blood red to the Maya artist’s palette.

Around the same time, 1200 CE, the Toltecs erected their own tzompantli. This version is slightly different as rather than the skull being carved into the stone, actual skulls would have been placed within the holes of the tzompantli. Much like the Mayas at Chichén Itzá, the skulls

probably came from prisoners of war. According to Mexica records, the Toltec were great warriors. It would be understandable that the Mexica military machine would wish to simulate these warriors considering that the Mexica themselves were proud warriors and often placed bellicose motifs throughout their buildings. However, why would the Mayas, who were much more nuanced on the topic of war and ritual execution, erect an architectural motif of militaristic violence? However, it must be noted that the tzompantli in Chichén Itzá does not require actual skulls in its design compared to both the Toltec and the Mexica, which both had places to place actual human cranium. David Carasco states that “The leitmotif of Maya-Toltec architecture is war and death ... features related to war or warriors” [7] . The Toltecs could be viewed as a great warrior class and perhaps the Maya of Chichén Itzá wanted to emulate the Toltecs, while keeping their nuanced culture.

When it comes to Chichén Itzá, the most famous landmark of the site is without a doubt El Castillo or more properly, the Temple of Kukulkan and “It was designed as the axis mundi of the city-state.”[8]. As the name suggest, this legendary temple was created for an equally legendary figure, Kukulkan the Feathered serpent. Kukulkan was famous for being both a deity associated with the ground and the air, as it both slithers and flies. This deity is a common subject of worship throughout Mesoamerica and this temple honors the god. The temple possesses a massive carved snake that starts as a massive figure head at the foot of the artificial mountain temple and terminates at the top of the temple. The most interesting aspect of this sculpture is that it can produce an optical illusion. When the sun hits the relief on the spring or Autumn equinox, the light gives Kukulkan the illusion of slinking down the temple staircase. This shows that the residents of Chichén Itzá believed in the supernatural powers of the gods and coupled with the superiority of Maya astronomy, could calculate the exact time to perform this illusion.

A possible theory for both the soft and hard power of Toltec Influences at the site involve the feathered serpent. The hard power theory is that the human Toltec ruler, Quetzalcoatl, conquered Chichén Itzá. After the conquest, the temple was built in his honor and named after Kukulkan to fit in with the local culture. In fact, “Pyramid B” probably was created to revere the Feathered Serpent. The warriors could have been some sort of representative of the human Quetzalcoatl, a symbol of a god made flesh. The soft power theory is that the Maya noticed a great power in Central Mexico. This power was led by a man named after the feathered serpent. At that point, the Maya would have been aware and influenced by Pyramid B, possibly due to architects visiting the city. In Europe, motifs of Greek deities can be seen throughout the continent and elsewhere, even in places where there was very little Greek influence. The Feathered serpent in Chichén Itzá has been recontextualized for the Maya, while still containing the Toltec influence.

The Toltec influence of Chichén Itzá is not exaggerated and can be plainly seen by both laymen and archeologists. However, the details of the influence are subject to great debate. One idea is of military hard power, that militaristic Toltecs conquered the more intellectual Maya[9] . There is much doubt in this hypothesis, but this idea was not only believed by Colonial and Modern scholars prior to the 70s [10], but the Mexica writers of Tenochtitlan. However, it must be understood that these writers are extremely biased. The Mexica were master propagandists. They always strove to ensure that the rule of the Mexica and justify their conquests. They also rewrote their own history to fit their own agenda. The idea of inheriting the greatness of the Toltecs for the Mexica was probably like the idea of inheriting “The light of Rome” or “Rule by the right of God” found in European Culture. Since historians know little of the Toltecs own opinion on what they did during the time when the conquest took place, researchers must rely on the biased Mexica sources. However, chronologically, most of the events of the conquest could not have happened at the time described. What also casts doubt on the Hard Power hypothesis, is the fact that while Tula was undoubtably powerful, it was relatively small, much smaller than Chichén Itzá. How could a relatively tiny kingdom, quickly conquered several civilizations, including several powerful cities states of the Maya?

The idea of soft power influenced by trade and international exchange is becoming more believable for historians as time goes on. What must be understood is the concept of a Tollan. This term is often named after the reed mats sat upon by the rulers of the Toltecs. It is possible that the Mayas of Chichén Itzá viewed themselves as a second Tolan, a great city emanating out of the Yucatan, just like Tollan. Much like how both the renaissance masters of Italy and the builders of the various monuments of Washington DC modeled their buildings after previous Greek and Roman works, the Maya wish to honor the Toltecs in their own way. This is not a Eurocentric comparison either, with places like the Hindu-Buddhist Angkor Wat, various Japanese pagodas in the Chinese style, and mosques influenced by Hagia Sofia in Istanbul wanting to take inspiration from previous cultures to honor them. By doing this, the Mayas of Chichen Itza believed they were enriching themselves by studying the works of the Toltecs, and by importing their architecture to their great city, they would be on the level of another great city and culture in Central Mexico. Its core, the main idea of this theory is that the Mayas living in Chichén Itzá were adding to a broader Mesoamerican sphere of architectural influence. They were building off trends throughout Mesoamerica, while also keeping a unique Yucatan identity. This trend in artistic expression will continue into the times of the Triple Alliance. The Mexica had plenty of motifs of the Toltecs that were also expressed by the Maya such as the chacmool and the tzompantili. These influences continued in Mesoamerica until the colonial era.

When a person visits Chichén Itzá, they may not notice the echoes of a civilization miles away from the Maya city. They may then go to Washington DC and clearly see that the buildings there were modeled after Rome, but they may not understand that buildings erected by the Mayas of Chichén Itzá were modeled after the Toltecs. The Toltec influence is heavily documented not in writing, but in stone carvings. There may or may not have been a man believed to be a deity that conquered the city, but undoubtably the great Tollan of the Toltecs gave Mayas of Chichén Itzá enriching inspiration, Great attention is now being placed on the Toltec influence and in the future, perhaps the popular consciousness will notice this strange period in architectural history in the Americas. [11]

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In Mexico’s Yucatán Peninsula, midwifery has traditionally been a thriving practice amongst the Maya peoples. Midwives have had an important place in rural indigenous communities because they primarily have been the ones to deliver babies.[1] However, since the latter half of the twentieth century; the Mexican government has discouraged women from delivering their babies with traditional midwives in favor of medicalized births in hospitals with physicians.[2] Essentially, this practice aids in the erasure of traditional practices and beliefs amongst the Maya, thus leading to the homogenization of Mexican society. Increased urbanization and industrialization have helped to increase access to hospitals and modern medicine as a whole. However, for maternal mortality, this has not necessarily translated to better health outcomes.[3] The UN’s Millennium Development Goals for beyond 2015 includes “Improve Maternal Health” as its fifth target, with that target being divided into two sections, 5. A: “Reduce by three-quarters, between 1990 and 2015, the maternal mortality ratio,” and 5. B: “Achieve, by 2015, universal access to reproductive health.”[4] Mexico has made major strides to try and meet that goal through increased access to hospitals. However, increased hospital access does not always translate to better care. For pregnant women, this has meant increased obstetric violence. This term was coined in Venezuela’s ‘Organic Law on the Right of Women to a Life Free of Violence’ in Article 15 of the law and is defined as: “…the appropriation of the body and reproductive processes of women by health personnel, which is expressed as dehumanized treatment, an abuse of medication, and to convert the natural processes [of labor] into pathological ones, bringing with it loss of autonomy and the ability to decide freely about their bodies and sexuality, negatively impacting the quality of life of women.”[5] This is especially an issue for Maya women in the Yucatán region because they are women of an ethnic minority, and frequently, are impoverished.[6] This paper will explore how the increase in medicalization and decrease in midwifery impacts Maya women in the Yucatán peninsula in Mexico, and the importance of traditional midwifery services for Maya women. Additionally, there will be discussion of practices that are utilized by Maya midwives.

Midwifery has been critically important for the Maya peoples, and despite the efforts of the Mexican government, midwives are still central to the lives of women in rural communities. They are the primary method of gynecological and obstetrical care for women in remote areas.[7] Despite not receiving much modern prenatal care, these women still see their midwives throughout their pregnancies prior to delivery. There is a focus on massage to ensure that the baby is in the correct positioning and is not breech, and to ensure the uterus is correctly positioned.[8] Massage to turn a baby into the correct position, known as an external cephalic version, is utilized by physicians and is noted to be successful.[9] Midwives have been revered in Maya communities because they have traditionally been viewed as medical professionals because of their extensive knowledge of medicinal plants and for taking care of pregnant women.[10]

Aside from the traditional knowledge of midwives, many indigenous women prefer to seek prenatal care and deliver their babies with midwives because of the negative experiences associated with state-run hospitals. Frequently, indigenous women are met with long wait times, a lack of cultural awareness, and language barriers.[11] For these reasons, many Maya women would rather deliver their babies at home with a traditional midwife. Many women also prefer to be in the comfort of their own home with more freedom to deliver their babies as they please. Traditionally, Maya midwives assist women in delivering their babies in a vertical position, such as kneeling or squatting, which allows for the force of gravity to help get the baby out.[12] In a traditional hospital setting, this is not the case and women are laying in a bed to deliver their babies.[13]

In the article “Narratives of Responsibility: Maternal Mortality, Reproductive Governance, and Midwifery in Mexico,” Sarah Williams explains that for the Mexican government, maternal mortality is why women should stop seeking midwives and see physicians instead. This is despite data showing that indigenous midwives pose less of a potential risk to maternal mortality than doctors in a hospital setting.[14] Regardless of the Mexican government’s concerns about midwifery, the practice is still important and widely desired by many Maya women. These women trust midwives and seek their expertise because they feel more comfortable with them and to avoid extraneous medical intervention.[15] Overmedicalization is a contributing factor to obstetric violence. Many women in the Yucatán peninsula, and other regions of Mexico, have their wishes ignored and are administered medications and procedures that they did not want. In “Ideal Citizens: The Birthing of State Truths and Fictions in Quintana Roo,” Sarah Williams exemplifies this with the experience of a non-indigenous woman named Eleanora who went to a private hospital in Tulum to deliver her baby. She informed the staff that she did not want Pitocin, yet they gave her an IV drip with Pitocin. She was also given an epidural, which she had a reaction to, and ultimately delivered her baby via Caesarean section. Upon being discharged, Eleanora asked for her hospital documents which indicated that she had an uncomplicated, planned Caesarean section. This erasure of reality helps to improve the look of hospitals in public opinion.

The Mexican government’s attempt to increase births in hospitals is reliant on two primary factors. The first is emphasizing good motherhood. To be a ‘good’ mother is to seek out prenatal care from a physician in a hospital setting and to deliver the baby in a hospital. The second is to diminish the reputation of midwives and midwifery as a practice. The government has emphasized midwifery as an outdated and primitive type of care that should be replaced.[16] This approach has led to administrative oversight of midwifery as a practice that is attempting to change how midwives are allowed to practice. In “Narratives of Responsibility,” Sarah Williams provides a case study of a young woman named Marcela who died from postpartum hemorrhage and her doctor was later found to not have been trained as a gynecologist despite being in good standing with the College of Obstetrics and Gynecology. After her death, traditional midwives registered with and known to the Ministry of Health in Quintana Roo were given new protocols aimed at reducing the maternal mortality rate. The explanation provided to the midwives was that Marcela’s and several other women’s deaths could have been linked to them having received prenatal care from a traditional midwife despite all of the deaths occurring in a hospital under the care of a doctor.[17] By linking these women’s deaths to the prenatal care of a traditional midwife, the government avoids having to explain and analyze the problems in practice occurring in state-run hospitals, while simultaneously showcasing efforts to increase access to hospitals because of issues with midwifery. Yet, this does a disservice to Maya and other rural and impoverished women. Poor administrative policies that do not address the root causes of maternal mortality will not increase health outcomes. Additionally, this could further restrict access to quality healthcare if traditional midwifery were to be further diminished. Many women would be forced to travel far for prenatal care and to deliver their babies in overrun and underfunded hospitals, which leads to medical negligence as in the case of Marcela. [18]

Midwifery for the Maya peoples in the Yucatán region is an important aspect of their communities. Midwives are renowned and revered for their work. They are also important for healthcare access. However, the Mexican government has attempted to diminish the role of the traditional midwife through overregulation and encouraging women to seek care from doctors in hospitals. This has not led to better health outcomes for women. Instead, women have been forced to travel far to endure obstetric violence and medical malpractice in overrun and underfunded hospitals. A better option for the Mexican government would be to recruit midwives and train them in sterile techniques and allow the midwives to practice in their villages. This could allow Maya women to have better access to care, improve health outcomes, and decrease the load on hospitals.

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Pedro Rodriguez was born to go fast. Indeed, his early life involved two things that all great race drivers understand; change and competition. To succeed in auto racing, a driver must adapt to change. Track conditions, weather, tire conditions, traffic, and more, are ever-evolving during a race. Great drivers make their cars go fast no matter how the conditions change. Conditions for Mexico were changing too. Rodríguez’s success brought international attention to Mexican racing at a time when Mexico was attempting to expand its international influence. Pedro Rodríguez was undoubtedly great. In fact, many say he was the greatest. Mexican business leader Carlos Slim-Domit put it this way, “…when we think about Motorsports in Mexico, we have the Rodriguez brothers as our reference…." Pedro's life would be cut tragically short, however, when he died doing what he loved most, driving a race car.

Pedro Rodriguez was born to Don Pedro and Doña Conchita Rodriguez de la Vega in 1940. Two years later, little brother Rodrigo was born. The family had a comfortable life in the Nueva Anzures borough of Mexico City. Don Pedro was a driver for Mexican Presidential candidate Lázaro Cárdenas-del Río. He later became a successful railroad broker. The brothers were competitors early in life. Don Pedro encouraged competition, signing the boys up for boxing lessons and encouraging them to race on their bicycles. Young Pedro preferred speed to anything else. He loved horses and cars, often riding his horse at high speed and yearning for the day he was old enough to experience the same feeling in an automobile. Little Ricardo copied Pedro in everything he did, as many younger siblings will.

By 9, Pedro had won his class in a national bicycle racing series. In 1952, he began racing motorcycles. His natural ability began to emerge around this time. At first, he could not compete with the other riders' more powerful motorcycles. However, when Don Pedro sprang for the faster Adler motorcycle, Pedro immediately became competitive and experienced victory for the first time. In 1953, Pedro would win the first five races he entered.

Pedro and Ricardo each had tremendously successful racing careers on motorcycles, but cars were what they really wanted to drive. Don Pedro worked the licensing systems to try and get his teenage sons an opportunity to drive. He owned a Porsche 350 and wanted young Pedro to drive it in the 1954 Carrera Panamericana. Being an international race, however, the sanctioning body (the Fédération Internationale de l’Automobile or "FIA") would not allow it. However, Don Pedro's success in business and his passion for motorsports put him at the forefront of Mexican car culture. At one point, Mexican President Adolfo Lopez-Mateos asked his friend Don Pedro to acquire a Ferrari for use around Mexico City.

Things were changing for Mexico and the Rodriguez family. Boys will be boys, and the teenage Pedro and Ricardo were experiencing the tensions of adolescence. After a big altercation, Don Pedro decided young Pedro needed discipline more than racing trophies and sent him to Western Military Academy in Illinois. Ricardo could not race during the school year, which he felt was a waste of time and talent. Nevertheless, Don Pedro and Doña Conchita insisted on the boys' education. For Don Pedro, fortunes were increasing. His fellow car enthusiast Adolfo López-Mateos was on his way to the Mexican presidency. This raised Don Pedro's profile significantly. Incidentally, Don Pedro delivered López-Mateos’s Ferrari to his door on his birthday in 1956. It was also time to move his teenage sons into cars. Don Pedro bought young Pedro a 1957 corvette, although Ricardo took the liberty of driving it while his brother was away at school. In early 1957, Ricardo became the first of the two brothers to enter an auto race, competing in an Opel at a touring race near Mexico City, where he would finish second.

A the end of the 1957 school year, Ricardo had enjoyed tremendous success in his new career, though his young age was causing some consternation among the racing regulators. Ricardo accompanied Don Pedro to Illinois to pick up Pedro from school. The three attended that year's Indianapolis 500, with both boys pledging to drive in the race someday. Upon returning to Mexico, it became clear to Pedro that Ricardo had a tremendous lead in their shared dream to become race car drivers. Pedro refused to return to Western Military Academy and insisted that Don Pedro allow him to begin his racing career. Don Pedro gave in, and young Pedro got his start.

As Pedro and Ricardo grew up, the auto racing culture was blossoming in Mexico. In 1950, the Mexican section of the Pan-American highway was inaugurated, and the Carerra Panamericana (Pan-American Road Race) was held in celebration. The Mexican government often used large national celebrations to solidify and celebrate its rule and to advertise progress to the world. No doubt this race inspired the Rodriguez brothers in their quest for glory. As the Pan-American highway would connect the Americas, so would the Carrera Panamericana connect Mexico to the world. Sport offers a unique opportunity for both international unity and national pride. Like President López-Mateos’s love of Ferraris, cars and racing carry international appeal. The Carrera Panamericana focused world eyes on Mexico while at the same time giving the Mexican people pride of place as its international status as a modern nation would grow during the period later referred to as the "Mexican Miracle." Like many young men who catch the racing bug, this period would propel the Rodriguez brothers to greatness.

Ricardo would make his U.S. debut in Riverside, California, in 1958. He drove a Porsche to victory in one of his races, to the amazement of the American spectators. Ricardo teamed with Pedro at LeMans in 1959 but did not finish the race. In 1960, however, Ricardo finished second in his class at LeMans and became the youngest driver to have a podium finish in the storied race. By 1962, Ricardo had started three Formula 1 races, the peak of motorsports. He did not win, but in 1961 became the youngest driver to ever qualify for the front row on the starting grid when he qualified a Ferrari second at the 1961 Italian Grand Prix.

In 1962, Ricardo was scheduled to race for Lotus in the Mexican Grand Prix. While testing his car, he entered a 180-degree corner too fast and hit the guardrail head-on. Strangely, he was not wearing his safety harness, and as he was ejected from the car, the windshield nearly severed him in two. At the time, Ricardo was regarded as the more naturally talented driver over Pedro. His death shook the Mexican people but hit Pedro particularly hard. Shortly after Ricardo's funeral, Pedro announced his retirement from racing. He could not go on.

In 1963, Ferrari wanted Pedro to run a race at Daytona, Florida. Pedro went to great lengths to limit the publicity surrounding his return. He was curious to know how he would respond when he got back in the car and how Ricardo's memory might affect his driving. Pedro answered any remaining questions when he won the race in the Ferrari. Pedro was not the natural talent that his brother had been. Legendary Formula 1 mechanic Jo Ramirez writes, “More often than not Pedro used to spend more time off the circuit than on it, and whenever there was a crash it was Pedro at the wheel.” Nevertheless, Pedro was capable of tremendous feats of driving. One example was the 1971 World Manufacturer's Championship. Driving the iconic Porsche 917, Pedro lost three entire laps in the pits but emerged and not only made up the laps but won the race! In that particular race, Pedro drove 157 of the 170 laps.

In 1964, Pedro scored his first Formula 1 point, finishing 6th in the Mexican Grand Prix. His prospects in Formula 1 seemed bright. A yearbook for 1964 complimented Pedro's talents. "He has all the necessary qualities…youthful, fearless without being reckless, and technical sympathy with his machine. Young Pedro Rodriguez could be a promising investment." Pedro would drive more Formula 1 races for Ferrari and Lotus in the ensuing three years but without much success. Mexican auto racing was also facing tough times as the presidency of López-Mateos gave way to that of Gustavo Díaz-Ordaz at the end of 1964. López-Mateos was a racing fan. He had promoted auto racing in Mexico for its own sake and to give Mexico more international connection during the "Global Sixties." Días-Ordaz, however, cared more for soccer or the Olympics. As a result, Pedro Rodriguez sought the international opportunities Formula 1 provided. Pedro also traveled to compete in many other racing series. In 1965, he competed in NASCAR's 600-mile race in Charlotte. NASCAR president Bill France had recommended Pedro to one of NASCAR's premier teams, Holman-Moody. Despite having little oval-track experience, Pedro brought his Ford home in fifth place.

The first Formula 1 race for the 1967 season took place in South Africa. Pedro had been hired for just that race by the Cooper team, with the proviso that if he performed well, the team might hire him for the rest of the season. Pedro qualified in the fourth starting position. During the race, he lost fourth gear, resulting in his having to race the car using only third and fifth. A series of retirements in front of him and his pushing the car to its absolute limit allowed Pedro to win the race for his first Formula 1 victory. When he crossed the finish line, his tires were completely bald.

Often in motor racing, the elusive first victory leads to further success. Pedro would win the 1970 Belgian Grand Prix and a non-championship race at Oulton Park in England. He would finish "in the points" at four other races in 1970. He would also finish second in Holland in 1971. During this era in motorsports, the top drivers often competed in multiple racing series. For example, Mario Andretti had season championships in Indy Car, Formula 1, and even USAC dirt track racing, in addition to winning NASCAR’s Daytona 500. Similarly, Pedro would continue competing at LeMans, winning in 1968 with co-driver Lucien Bianchi in the legendary Ford GT40. Pedro would win ten times with Ferrari in sportscars and eight times with Porsche.

In 1971, Pedro planned to enter an Interseries race at the famed Norisring in Germany. The 200-mile race was not important for Pedro's career, but he had been offered a Ferrari to drive. He started on the first row and took the lead almost immediately. By the fifth lap, he was catching the last-place cars. However, on lap 12, as he entered an "S" curve, his car spun out of control, bounced off a concrete wall, and came to rest in a guardrail. The car burst into flames. Pedro was revived three times on his way to the hospital but could not be revived a fourth.

Pedro Rodriguez died in what may have been his best year ever. Thousands of people crowded the airport when his body returned to Mexico. The mayor of Mexico City sat with the Rodriguez family at his funeral. Mexico's most successful race driver was laid to rest in the Spanish Cemetery. Legendary racing engineer John Wyer put it best, "For me, Pedro was the greatest driver of his time…I mean the greatest. He is irreplicable.”

Pedro Rodriguez and Ricardo, for a time, brought motorsports to the fore in Mexican society. At a time when Mexico sought to build its international connections and place itself more prominently in the international conversations during the "Global Sixties," the success of the Rodriguez brothers helped elevate Mexico's standing in one of the most popular international sporting communities. Pedro would also inspire generations to come. Current Formula 1 driver Sergio "Checo" Perez drives for the famed Red Bull Racing Formula 1 team. Celebrating victory in the 2022 Monaco Grand Prix, Perez said, "It's a massive day for me and my country…I was running today Pedro Rodriguez's helmet and I'm sure up there he's super proud of what we have achieved together in the sport."

Mexican motor racing suffered after Pedro's death. The Mexican Grand Prix was canceled due to dangerously rowdy crowds in 1970. Most Mexican drivers built their careers outside Mexico. Though it would take years, racing did eventually come back to Mexico. The Mexican Grand Prix finally returned in 1986—at the Autodromo Hermanos Rodriguez, named for Mexico's racing brothers. The race now occupies a prominent place on the Formula 1 race schedule and forever enshrined Pedro Rodriguez’s legacy as Mexico’s greatest driver.

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Born on June 30, 1902, in Mexico City, Leopoldo Méndez would become one of Mexico’s most significant and beloved graphic artists of the twentieth century. Méndez was one of eight children in a poor household. At a young age, Méndez used art as a means to bring joy to the Mexican community and attended the Academy of San Carlos located in Mexico City. After Mexico’s revolution started in 1910, the community witnessed a great divide between the rich and the poor, along with discrimination against indigenous populations. Artist Leopoldo Méndez wanted to close this gap by highlighting these issues through graphic art, murals, and wood engravings. In the 1930s, Méndez became politically active and promoted revolutionary ideas such as workers’ rights in his graphic art and founded the League of Revolutionary Artists and Writers in 1933 and the Taller de Gráfica Popular in 1937.

The childhood of Méndez is pivotal to the artist’s relationship with anti-fascist and revolutionary ideas. The youngest of eight children in a working-class home, Méndez also faced the struggle of his mother dying during his infancy. Méndez lived with his extended family under poverty conditions. In 1918, Méndez enrolled in the Academia de San Carlos. Leandro Izaguirre and Saturnino Herrán, two artists that painted cruel depictions of colonization, taught and inspired Méndez to use artwork as a means to bring social injustices to light. It is claimed that “while Méndez would soon reject the techniques and elitist attitudes associated with the academy, Izaguirre’s and Herrán’s sympathetic depictions of their subjects set important precedents on which he and others would build.” [1] Although Méndez strayed from the academy’s elitist teachings, the artist would forever strive to connect his artwork to larger social themes surrounding indigenous and working-class members of the Mexican community.

After the assassination of Cuban communist exile Julio Mella in 1929, Méndez joined the Communist Party of Mexico. Méndez founded The Liga de Escritores y Artistas Revolucionarios, translated to the League of Revolutionary Writers and Artists. Méndez promoted anti-fascist artwork and influenced artists to create a collection of revolutionary artwork to grasp the attention of Mexican intellectuals. Other artists from the Academia de San Carlos, such as Pablo O’Higgins, joined this group to create artwork that criticized imperialism, capitalism, and warfare. These artists wanted artwork to stretch beyond entertainment purposes, and to mirror Mexico’s discontent community. Furthermore, “Artists from Mexico and other countries created global partnerships, and they also worked with high-level bureaucrats to produce images that illustrated the dangers of fascism through books and posters.” [2] Although Méndez eventually left LEAR to create the Taller de Gráfica Popular, it is evident that this group pushed working class interests into the forefront, cemented a political relationship with the arts, and revolutionized the meaning of artwork relative to the working-class community.

One of Méndez’s most significant contributions to Mexico’s art community is his founding of the Taller de Gráfica Popular in 1937, alongside Luis Arenal and Pablo O’Higgins. He oversaw the acquisition of lithographic equipment and resources for the community of artists, and led the board of the publishing center, known as La Estampa Mexicana [3]. La Estampa Mexicana published lyrics, poems, and posters that favored left-wing politicians worldwide, and criticized fascist leaders. His leadership in the TGP allowed the community of artists to flourish and print anti-fascist rhetoric across Mexico. It is believed that without Méndez, the TGP would not have lasted up until the present day. The TGP has become a beacon in Mexico’s community post-revolution, and “in order to emphasize the need for continued socialist reform, artists at the TGP produced powerful genre scenes that drew attention to those suffering from homelessness, hunger and illness.” [4] Under the leadership of Méndez, the TGP advocated for artwork to mirror the social reality of Mexico and the suffering working class. Méndez helped graphic art and muralism rise across Mexico, as many artists collaborated on large street murals. He specialized in political graphic art and wood engravings and oversaw the production of prints under the TGP. Key issues the TGP reflected in its artwork included “Mexico’s divided heritage and fragmented history, the poverty and oppression of the Native American populations, human rights for the popular classes, defending the land rights of the lower classes, and civil liberties for labour movements.” [5] Méndez did not receive much attention throughout his lifetime for his artwork, as he believed the work of artists should not be done for fame nor fortune.

The Taller de Gráfica Popular went beyond working-class issues, aiding in political issues domestically and internationally. The community’s connection to the Partido Comunista Mexicano, translated to the Mexican Communist Party, also aided in the rise of feminism across Mexico. Artists and leaders of the TGP such as Elizabeth Catlett and Mercedes Quevedo influenced the founding of the National Union of Mexican Women in 1964 to unite women of all social classes [6]. The work of Méndez and the Taller de Gráfica Popular expanded beyond Mexico especially during the Spanish Civil War from 1936 to 1939, and World War II from 1939 to 1945. Méndez supported the side of Republican Spain and condemned the invasion of the Soviet Union by Nazi Germany. In 1949, the Congress of Peace was held in Mexico City, in which “the TGP collaborated with works that activated the political imaginary of realism in negotiation with the USSR’s rhetoric of nuclear disarmament and the Dove of Peace.” [7] The TGP favored the socialist USSR over Nazi Germany and criticized fascist political leaders like Hitler and Mussolini. Méndez’s own socialist ideas would create hesitancy to showcase his work across the United States, however, the artist did have a successful exhibit in Chicago in 1945. The exhibit strayed from highlighting the artist’s ties to socialism due to growing tensions of the Cold War and enabled American audiences to view Mexico’s connection of artwork and social realities. The Taller de Gráfica Popular continues to operate in Mexico City, advocating for indigenous populations and working-class citizens, continuing long after Méndez’s own death in 1969.

Due to his humbled perceptions of artwork as a profession, Méndez did not enjoy much fame nor recognition until after his death. He preferred to work for low wages and strayed from showcasing his artwork in large-scale exhibitions, believing this would dilute his work and true purpose of representing Mexico’s lower class. However, Leopold Méndez’s contributions and leadership to both The Liga de Escritores y Artistas Revolucionarios, and Taller de Gráfica Popular throughout the 1930s to the 1960s enabled small-scale artists across Mexico to unite to create a collection of artwork that ensured the needs of the working-class were represented.

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Though milk consumption is vital to child development, it was not always easy to access in Mexico during the 1960s, which caused negative health impacts for children. During this period, mothers had options for giving their child proper nutrition, two of which were breast milk and formula. This research will examine why mothers in Mexico made these choices because not all families had equal access to each option. Due to a family’s economic situation and geographic location, families may have been unable to access formula or cow’s milk. Additionally, if the family lacked knowledge on infant feeding or were illiterate, they may not have known how to use formula. To build on this, I will analyze misconceptions of using the available feeding methods. When parents faced feeding difficulties and their infant was not given the nutrition it required, there was a higher risk of negative outcomes, including malnutrition and death. When the infant reached childhood, families were again faced with hardships to obtain dairy milk for their child. While these problems were occurring at home, scientific research and government policy makers were beginning to view milk consumption as being essential for proper child development. To build on this, I will examine the impact that governmental nutrition programs had on milk consumption. Much of this research utilizes sources that focus on Mexico City and on all of Mexico during the 1960s. To support my arguments, this research is composed of a variety of sources, including academic journals and scholarly articles written by professional historians.

When an infant is born, all mothers decide how they prefer to feed their baby. A study done in Mexico concluded that “breastfeeding is a primary means of preventing infant morbidity and mortality in developing countries” [1] because it gives babies the best nutrition and builds their immunity [1]. Mothers also could choose to breastfeed their infant by paying a wet nurse to supply breast milk for the baby [2]. However, many mothers may have had difficulty with their breast milk supply, which would force them to make a choice. To put further pressure on mothers, infant formula manufacturers relentlessly marketed their products in developing countries, such as Mexico. Companies such as Nestlé were accused of pushing mothers into using formula products because they claimed that mothers should “adopt the modern, scientific infant feeding practice of bottle-feeding formula.” [3] Additionally, these manufacturers were accused of hiring labor and delivery nurses to sell their formula [3]. If these accusations are true, it means that formula manufacturers were not considering Mexico’s demographics or the wellbeing of the country’s infants because some mothers were illiterate and could not “read the instructions that tell her to sterilize the bottles, the nipples, and the water...[mixed] with the formula.” [3] Additionally, these mothers may not have had anyone to teach them how to properly serve infant formula. Infants may have become sick, or even died, due to corporation greediness and unwillingness to provide necessary knowledge.

Research has shown that when families could not access feeding options or sanitized water, there were detrimental effects for infants. A study by David Fox on morbidity and mortality patterns in Mexico City during the 1960s analyzed the cause of death in all ages compared to their environment. Fox concluded that “high death rates among infants...from gastroenteritis...are linked with inadequate water and sewage facilities,...the absence of a proper kitchen, and...other deficiencies of the domestic environment.” [4] In these areas, it is likely that formula was not prepared with clean water or sanitized bottle parts, and that bottles were not thoroughly cleaned after each use. In zones with the correlation, it may have been common for infants to become sick and dehydrated, potentially leading to death.

After reaching childhood, families had to find a way to make sure their children received dairy milk products. However, parents did not always have the resources to gain it. Some families had “neither cows nor goats to produce milk” [5] in their towns, and many indigenous people became sick when drinking milk due to being lactose-intolerant [5]. Before government intervention, milk was expensive to purchase relative to salary and wages in Mexico. “In 1945 a bottle of milk...cost [between] 47¢ at dairies...and 56¢ delivered at home...[while] minimum wage [that year] was [between] $1.65 in rural areas and $1.90 in cities.” [5] Therefore, milk was a large part of an average worker’s salary. Lower-class workers would not have wanted to spend money on milk, opting instead to buy more food for their families. To add greater hardship, milk “had to be acquired...daily...to keep [it] fresh...in households without a refrigerator.” [5] To help families receive milk, the Mexican government started “importing powdered milk...and distributing it through subsidized state shops and the school breakfast program.” [5]

Unlike in lower class families, cow’s milk was consumed daily in middle- and upper-class families. In the 1950s, milk was too expensive, so it was a type of luxury that set the upper classes apart. While reconstituted milk was a more affordable option to obtain milk in the 1960s, the “better-off families...[now] had refrigerators to drink it cold, [setting them] apart from the poor, who could only have it warm or hot.” [5] Additionally, ”condensed and evaporated milk remained a commodity of middle- and upper-class households.”[5]

While parents struggled to feed their children, scientific research started to stress the importance of milk consumption during childhood. To support this knowledge, and “to modernize their country...by promoting the health and welfare of children,” [6] the Mexican government created policies to help children receive milk and, therefore, develop properly. One important policy was the LICONSA program that “provide[d] milk powder and liquid milk at subsidized prices to low-income families” [7] in both rural and urban settings. In order to access milk products, families were given cards that “entitle[d] poor children living in marginal zones to buy 4 liters of milk per child/per week at discounted prices” [7] and children in Mexico City to have 8 liters of milk each per week [7]. While there were good intentions, the program only gave allowance to kids that were five years old and younger until more recently [7]. Additionally, some rural families may have had geographic barriers preventing access to milk products and would not have been able to utilize the cards.

Milk played a huge role in infant development in Mexico during the 1960s, and the government attempted to solidify a similar role for it during childhood. In infancy, families had to make the choice of how they would feed their babies. If they were unable to feed their infants effectively, or if they were unable to follow safe feeding practices, they risked detrimental effects on the life of the baby. Once an infant reached childhood, the government tried to push the nutritional importance of milk on families, though milk products were often only affordable for middle- and upper-class families. Also, milk may not have been geographically easy to access for many rural families, and indigenous populations were not able to drink it without becoming sick.

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The lights begin to dim, silent whispers rumble through the excited crowd around me. Lights flood the stage, smoke quickly cascades and ripples through the space. Percussions and woodwinds creep in crescendo, calling to centuries of culture, transporting us through time and space. Individuals march in unison filling the stage, guided by the music. The formation breaks and the cloths, patterns, and beads begin to shake, the trail to Mexicanidad begins to take shape, inhabiting each dancer. Each becomes a guide, an invitation. Welcome to The Ballet Folklórico de Amalia Hernandez, a manifestation of Mexican pride, folklore, and transformations.

The Cold War significantly influence global changes and international relations. One of the most important aspects of México’s cultural influence, which focused on the diplomatic and commercial was Ballet Folklórico. Ballet Folklórico was a key part of México's strategy for national liberation since it fostered goodwill, helped the country dismantle its third world status, and supported the country's economic and social independence.

Analyzing how Amalia Hernández formed unique creative concepts and performances is crucial to comprehending Ballet Folklórico's influence. Waldeen Falkenstein and Miguel Covarrubias, her closest mentors, believed in transforming México’s arts into contemporary representations of Mexican culture and pride. Falkenstein and Covarrubias recognized and cultivated Hernández to develop her choreography skills. They encouraged her to learn about Mexican folk traditions in order to depart from it and create new art work, a contemporary interpretation of Mexican tradition. Amalia Hernández, on the other hand, approached modern art with the intention of incorporating folk traditions.

Although there were conflicts among Mexican artists over issues of nationalism and aesthetics, when they represented México abroad, they joined together as a unified force. Performances overseas featured modern and folk choreography, the latter garnering greater attention. During the 1940s, the Mexican President praised Amalia Hernández' Ballet Folklórico for exhibiting emblematic elements of Mexican national culture. By the 1950s, this creative divide had become known as the "cactus curtain," a metaphor for the "iron curtain”. Surpassing the divide, Amalia Hernández permanently altered Mexican identity, cultural growth, and political interpretations.

Ballet Folklórico became an internationally recognized form of ballet and a revolutionary representation of diverse regional Mexican elements. Through its choreography and artistic expressions, it revolutionized both classical ballet and the traditional folk arts. The Mexican National Institute of Fine Arts supplied auspices to Ballet Folklórico, which helped the Amalia Hernández dance company attain fame on a global scale. The Ballet Folklórico dance group had achieved success in numerous international dance competitions by the middle of the 1960s, contributing significantly to México’s cultural identity.

The Cold War was a time of conflict involving capitalism and communism, principally between the US and the Soviet Union, but it also affected nations that were not directly involved in those hostilities. Developing countries that were neutral in the Cold War conflict between the US and the Soviet Union were affected differently; they bore the burdens that came with being classified as Third-World countries. The developing nations, who were stigmatized as belonging to the Third World due in part to their neutral attitudes during the Cold War, redirected their attention to national liberation. Third World nation-states that had been colonized or remained under the control of imperialist powers banded together through resistance and self- determination movements.

Under the leadership of the Bandung Conference in 1955, emerging nations, including Mexico, formed non-alliance organizations to avoid being subjugated by the opposing sides of the Cold War. Sovereignty, territorial integrity, nation-to-nation equality, non-interference in internal affairs, and peaceful coexistence were the guiding themes of the Bandung Conference. Through his activities both before and after becoming President, Adolfo López Mateos echoed this movement.

Along with advancements to industrialization, agriculture, and health programs, he signed a labor agreement with the United States. The United States-México labor treaty was drafted with his help as labor minister before to becoming president of México, making him particularly well-liked at the time. President Mateos was also well recognized for advancing industrialization, agrarian reforms, and public health initiatives during his presidency.

President Mateos deserves a great deal of credit for establishing México as a sought-after player on the global stage during his administration. The Latin American policy put forth by President Franklin Delano Roosevelt in 1933 is a part of earlier international relations between the United States and México. The policy sought for amicable relations and a ban on armed intervention between the states of the Western Hemisphere. Although these previously established ties existed between México and the United States, the transnational mobilizations of the 1960s gave rise to a bilateral framework that included domestic and international developments in México.

While supporting México's new global position, President Kennedy aimed to stifle Mexican internationalism. This was because México's dependence on the United States was advantageous for the United States economically, strategically, and diplomatically. Independence shook this firm grasp and alliance the U.S. aimed to keep. In order to highlight México's potential for tourism marketing, President Kennedy's itinerary to México was infused with abundant cultural imagery. His visit provided México with the ideal chance to promote its meticulously constructed tourism industry, built on important folkloric-cosmopolitan imagery.

None other than the Ballet Folklorico performances by Amalia Hernández were on President Kennedy's agenda. Despite winning international competitions and gaining international recognition, the Mexican Ministry of Tourism prioritized strengthening Mexico-US cooperation. As a result, the Mexican tourism industry transformed from a beach destination to one ready to showcase the thriving fine arts scene filled with varied traditional and modern characteristics.

Amalia Hernandez created Ballet Folklórico out of her passion for Mexican culture, customs, and modern dance. Mexico needed a vehicle to promote its culture abroad if it was to break free from its dependence on the United States and overcome its political and economic constraints. The international triumph of Amalia Hérnandez was not the only thing that changed for her or the Mexican culture. A nationwide rebuilding of how Mexican citizens were exposed to their ancestors' cultural practices, took place. Innovative choreography by Amalia Hernandez interprets local, political, and interpersonal folklore. Likewise, Mexico improved its sense of national identity, fine arts, tourism industry, and political ties.

I would like to thank Professor Charles Heath II for his guidance and encouragement throughout this project, as well as Research Librarian Kristina Claunch for producing and sharing valuable research guides.

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In the summer of 1954 the United States government carried out a mass deportation of over one million people. [1] This was Operation Wetback. In recent years there has been increased concern surrounding immigrants entering the United States via the Southern Border. Politicians have capitalized on the issue which has led to an increase in divisive and anti-immigrant rhetoric. Much of this rhetoric has centered on describing immigration, especially across the Southern Border as an invasion. [2]However, this type of anti-immigrant rhetoric is not new. Late-nineteenth-century language frequently described the influx of Chinese immigrants as an invasion. [3] The terminology used to describe and label people who immigrate to the United States illegally via the Southern Border has changed several times throughout the past 60 years. We have shifted from “undesirable” to “wetback” to “illegal immigrant” to “undocumented” throughout the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. [4] These changes reflect an effort to be more politically correct and take on a softer approach when discussing immigration and immigrants. Despite these changes in terminology, the question of if deportation tactics have also changed still looms. This is one of the questions that this paper will seek to answer. This paper will delve into the summer of 1954 with Operation Wetback to look at Mexico’s role in Operation Wetback; where some of the terms for people who immigrate illegally comes from (especially the term ‘wetback’); if deportation tactics have changed; and, if modern-day U.S. immigration policy is related to that of the mid-twentieth century. This paper is an examination of the legacy of Operation Wetback.

The terminology surrounding people who come to the U.S. without proper authorization has changed over the years. As previously mentioned, Americans have gone from using the term “wetback” to “undocumented” in a span of about 60 years. The term “wetback” came about to describe Mexican nationals who illegally crossed into the United States via the Rio Grande - thus, having had a wet back. Today, this is a pejorative term and racial slur that is not considered appropriate. But, for Americans in the mid-twentieth century, it was not considered to be particularly offensive (to the masses). On the surface level, it seems like an odd choice for the United States government to have named an official policy “wetback,” given its awkward nature and history. However, it is crucial to think about why that name was chosen. At the time, “wetback” was still a jarring word. It immediately brought forth the idea that someone was committing a crime against the United States. They [wetbacks] were an enemy and a criminal. However, it is important to realize the nuance in the word. The Spanish translation is espaldas mojadas. And, for some Mexican-Americans, the term while being used by a Mexican or Mexican-American is not offensive. They mean it colloquially and as a descriptor term for people who immigrated to the United States. But, when used by a white person, it is offensive. [5] And this makes sense. The word was created by white people to be an offensive term for describing a minority group. This logic and methodology is similar to Black Americans who use the n-word but feel it is inappropriate, racist, and offensive for people of other racial and ethnic groups to also use the term.

The shift in terminology describing people who are not authorized to come to the United States reflects a palpable shift in the United States surrounding the way certain groups were discussed. “Wetback” as a descriptor began to decline in the 1960s and 1970s. In this same period, there were multiple movements and discussions being had about civil rights and the treatment of ethnic and racial minorities. “Wetback” was replaced with "illegal alien" through the late 1960s and 1970s. According to the United States Department of Justice, “illegal alien” is a term “to refer to foreign-born persons who entered the United States without inspection by the Immigration and Naturalization Service, or who entered legally as non-immigrants but remain after their authorized period of stay had expired.” [6] “Illegal alien” is similar to “illegal immigrant,” but has a different timeline. “Illegal alien” was prevalent throughout the 1970s and into the first half of the 1990s. After this period, it began to decline, and “illegal immigrant” began to become popular. [7] “Illegal alien” has more of a dehumanizing quality as it describes human beings as “aliens.” Today, “illegal immigrant” as the official term or descriptor has declined in popularity and has been subject to criticism because of the word “illegal.” The term can be described as a non-starter for discussions surrounding immigration policy. “America has a big problem with illegal immigration, but a big part of it stems from the word ‘illegal.’ It pollutes the debate. It blocks solutions… Since the word modifies not the crime but the whole person [as in “illegal immigrant”]...” [8] This gets at the crux of the issue with immigrants who were not authorized to be in the United States. Operation Wetback was not a true solution to a legitimate immigration problem. But rather, a joint attempt to rid America of a group that was demonized and viewed as a problem in the United States and to provide a “fix” to a problem in Mexico.

Oftentimes when discussing American immigration policy attention is unilaterally concerned with the United States’ policies and actions. However, this is not the most productive method. When analyzing Operation Wetback, discourse that does not acknowledge Mexico’s role will not sufficiently explain the operation. In the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, the United States began to pass legislation to limit the amount and types of immigrants coming into the United States. This all begins with the passage of the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882. These laws targeted people coming to the U.S. from the Eastern Hemisphere, so Mexicans were not the targets of these laws. In 1942, the United States and Mexico agreed to the Bracero Program which allowed Mexican men to legally enter into the United States for work. Despite this program, many Mexicans entered outside of the program illegally. In the 1940s and 1950s, the Mexican government began to industrialize the agricultural sector. Mechanized farming and land privatization were being implemented, but the exodus of workers limited this process. For Mexico, the Bracero Program would have been a way to “control the international mobility of poor Mexican campesinos.” [9] But, this did not materialize well “as undocumented migration increased alongside the Bracero Program.” [10] Because of this, Mexico had a stake in Operation Wetback which necessitated Mexican officials participating in the operation. In exchange for participation in the program, the Mexican government demanded that the United States increase its border control and send Mexican nationals who circumvented the program back to Mexico. [11]

A combination of Mexico’s intense persuasion and INS Commissioner Joseph Swing’s desire for strict enforcement of immigration law came to create Operation Wetback. The decade of 1944 to 1954 was known as the “wetback decade.” The number of immigrants and INS apprehensions increased significantly each year. [12] In her book, Migra!: A History of the U.S. Border Patrol, Kelly Lytle Hernandez asserts that this could be interpreted as a loss of control of the border by the INS of “unsanctioned Mexican immigration.” [13] This is an interesting interpretation of the cause of Operation Wetback. According to the U.S. Border Patrol itself, the 1950s saw a period of expansion for the department with a task force developed by Attorney General Herbert Brownell Jr. of the Eisenhower administration“ to round up and ship home thousands of illegal immigrants from southern California. The task force moved to the lower Rio Grande valley, then to Chicago and other interior cities. The border patrol began expelling Mexican males by boatlift from Port Isabel, Texas, to Vera Cruz in September 1954.” [14] Essentially, the government is maintaining that the increase in border crossings necessitated Operation Wetback - though it is critical to note that they did not call the operation by its official name. Not heavily discussed in the CBP article is where the Mexican nationals were sent. As previously discussed, Mexico was a stakeholder in the operation and it was important for them that those who were deported did not return to the United States. To solve this problem, those who were deported were shipped to the interior of Mexico, far away from the borderlands. [15] This portion of Operation Wetback was under Mexico’s jurisdiction.

While there have not been any more true attempts to recreate Operation Wetback, the U.S. government has not made any truly successful inroads at fixing the unauthorized immigration problem. Deportations have continued, but have declined since 1954 which was an all-time high for the CBP. Under Former President Obama, three million unauthorized immigrants were sent back to their home countries. Because of his intensity on immigration, he became known as the “Deporter-in-Chief.” [16] Despite this, he also signed DACA (Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals) which shielded young adults who were brought to the United States as children from deportation. This combination has muddied the waters on how to analyze his actions on immigration. While running as a candidate, Former President Trump explained that he would want to model his immigration policy after Operation Wetback. His comments were heavily criticized on all sides of the political spectrum because of the methodology of Operation Wetback - it is presently described as abusive to human rights, but also because of the logistical issues. The former president expressed his desire to deport 11 million undocumented immigrants in the same way that Former President Eisenhower did with one million. Despite these expressions, President Trump did not replicate Operation Wetback.. However, his presidency was heavily criticized due to the practice of separating children from their families and keeping them in ICE detention centers.

Although modern U.S. immigration policy is not following in the vein of Operation Wetback, there are still many issues that arise with the tactics used today. Unauthorized immigrants are still rounded up by ICE. The separation of children from their families will leave a stain on the United States in the same way that Operation Wetback has. Many U.S. citizens long for changes to immigration policy, but politics has gotten in the way of true and meaningful change. Operation Wetback was a futile attempt to rid the country of Mexican immigrants. The United States and Mexico forcibly removed Mexican nationals from the southwestern United States and shipped them back to central and southern Mexico. However, this did not solve the immigration issues. Mexicans and other Central Americans still move to the United States legally and illegally. If the Mexican and United States governments want to affect any lasting and positive changes, harkening back to Operation Wetback is not the most practical or humane method. The rhetoric that is used when discussing immigration problems and policies causes valid and effectual conversations to be halted. Officials should come up with better terminology that does not accurately describe the actions, not the people. Additionally, recognizing why people are fleeing their native countries to come here is critical. If the numbers of undocumented immigrants are to decrease, then solutions must get to the root of the problems; rather than simply inserting harsh and difficult-to-enforce policies.

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Unfamiliar to a large portion of US culture, it is crucial to understand the impact that the actor Pedro Infante has on Mexican cinema. Viewed by many as one of the quintessential stars of La época del cine de oro de Mexicano (The Golden Age of Mexican Cinema), Infante is considered one of the most prominent actors in the genre of Cancion Ranchera (rustic comedy) films. In these genre films, Infante used his beautiful singing and rugged machismo to help establish the ideal image of Mexican masculinity. Using Corrido (a depiction of rural life) imagery that depicted traditional life in the Mexican countryside, Infante's filmography would leave a social impact on what society expected of Mexican men in the mid-20th Century. Yet this image is fascinating about Infante, as for all the ways he came to represent this corrido image in his everyday life; indeed, Infante also was at times contradictory to the traditional notion that he came to embody. Infante was not a man that genuinely stuck to conventional family life; as a child out of wedlock and numerous infidelities marked how Infante did not fall in line with social acceptability in Mexico. Conversely, Infante’s non-habit of drinking is also notable, as his ability to impersonate drunkenness also influenced audiences toward drinking habits that worried citizens of Mexico.

The purpose of this article is to present a history for the US audience of a figure that holds a special place in the heart of many Mexicans; it is not meant to sway one to think of Infante one way or the other. However, in noting the twists in turns of Infante’s life, it would not give due justice to his story to not mention the unique characteristics of Infante’s biography that contradict the image presented to audiences. The focus of this article is to note how the appearance of Infante interacts with the actual person of Infante, how the two parts overlap, and where they differ from each other. It is an opportunity to present a substantial figure to audiences that may not be aware of his magnitude while writing about the unique life as a celebrity that Infante lived, one in which he achieved a rags-to-riches story all while attaining astronomical levels of stardom before his untimely death. This paper raises historical awareness of a celebrity still recognized as one of the biggest stars of Mexican cinema.

Principios Humildes

Infante was born Pedro Infante Cruz on November 18, 1917, in Guamuchil, Mazatlán, Sinaloa to Delfino Infante Garcma and Refugio Cruz. (1) It would be Infante’s early life that would significantly influence his future persona and musical career. Music was meaningful to Infante’s family, including his dancer-instructor father, Delfino, who would teach Pedro how to sing. Infante desired to pursue a career in music, leading a group known as La Rabia before eventually participating in Orquesta la Estrella de Culiacán. Just as crucial to the start of his music career was how his upbringing built up his humble, rustico, persona; while a music career seemed to be a ways away, Infante would take up a job in carpentry to provide for his family. The skills that he learned from this practice would ironically help him continue a career in music, as he would build the guitar that he would use to perform. (2) Infante’s early focus was taking care of his family, a defining feature of Infante’s life that would reinforce his image as a noble, rural man extolling pure values. (3)

Family would be a defining theme within Infante’s life as a young adult; however, while it would help mold the persona he would embody for years to come, Infante would continue to provide for his family as he excelled in his music career excelled, securing opportunities for his family, both as a young musician in Sinaloa (4) as well as his life as a celebrity. Family relationships would also be the thing that muddies the waters of Infante’s wholesomeness. As a young man, Infante had numerous relationships with multiple women, including a relationship with Guadalupe Lopez, “...en un avasallador amor a primera vista,” (5) (...in an overwhelming love at first sight.) Infante would instead find his first marriage with María Luisa León, who would spur Infante to search for broader successes, encouraging her husband to move to Mexico City for new opportunities, a decision that would eventually pay off for the young couple. (6)

Mexico City: The Beginning of Starhood and Ranchera Comedia

1939 would see the couple make their way to the capital city, as well as the first film roles for Infante, with his first film being en un burro tres baturros (Three Peasants and a Donkey) along with some roles in short films as well. Here, we see Infante’s involvement in the Ranchera Comedia (rustic or ranch comedy) genre of Mexican cinema that would allow this star to refine his craft. The purpose of these films served a commercial purpose as well as a social according to scholars. “The comedia ranchera was, first and foremost, an efficient vehicle for the propagation of música ranchera; it was the music video system of its time and place. As the media barons soon grasped, people were primarily addicted to the nostalgia encoded or encapsulated in the songs, so they structured the movies around them.” (7) This nostalgia, while used commercially to attract consumers, would also serve a political motive for the state, for it was this yearning for older generations that were used to construct the ideal social image of Mexican citizens. Ranchera Comedias used a Mexican style of song known as the corrido (from correr - to run), a style of song that is associated with rural Mexican populations for “Its oral quality and simplicity of language,” that “facilitate its dissemination among the community.” (8) While the style of music appealed to Mexicans desiring simpler times, it was also the imagery of ranchera comedias that influenced the citizens' personalities but also reflected their racial politics. Much of the Mexican population of the mid-20th century held prejudices against indigenistas (indigenous citizens), and the nostalgic imagery helped reinforce that by instead focus the history of Mexico’s legacy to the rural charros, who were the central figures of comedia ranchera films. “Rapidly modernizing men and women wanted to keep one foot in their idealized provincial origin worlds, but also wished to avoid stigmatizing identity-attributions of rusticity and backwardness.” (9) Ranchera Comedias offered a romantic hero that embodied an idealized image of “traditional” Mexican values without having to acknowledge certain aspects of the country’s past. (10)

Infante himself embraced a nationalistic image in his early career as a performer, taking on roles of Mexican revolutionaries in films such as el ametralladora (the machine gun) and singing songs commemorating the Mexican revolt against the French on May 5. (11) However, it was not only this nationalistic image that influenced others. Many scholars acknowledge Infante’s ability to act drunk, despite Infante himself not having a habit of drinking, which is attributed to “Su experiencia provnia de haber vivido, desde su adolescencia, dentro de la bohemia de los musicos.” (12) (His experience came from having lived, since his adolescence, within the bohemia of the musicians) Infante’s influence as a faux-drunkard is so prevalent in Mexican culture that the generation in which cultural alcoholism became so prevalent is the Generación Pedroinfantesca. (13) (Pedro Infante Generation) For better or for worse, whether or not Infante intended to play a national hero for others to replicate, he would fit the role that many wanted him to be, which would help catapult his life into a new form of Mexican hero. (14)

Trágico: Career and Sudden End

Infante found immediate success with the release of el ametralladora, and soon after, Pedro was the desired figure for everything. While releasing film after film, such as el tres Garcia (The Three Garcias) and Soy charro de Rancho Grande (I am a Charro of Rancho Grande), Infante continued to record and perform music non-stop, performing in locations such as Tropicana Hall. Infante would achieve a new level of success in 1948 through the film Nosotros los Pobres (We the Poor), using the rural values he embodied for so long to play a noble boxer Pepe el Toro, to not only exhibit traditional values but “revelar los sufrimientos de los pobres.” (15) (reveal the sufferings of the poor) The success of Nosotros los Pobre will give Infante some of his most significant examples of success, spawning multiple sequels, all touching on the issue of rural poverty in Mexico. Meanwhile, Infante begins to flourish at an international level performing in Southwestern States such as California, Arizona, and Texas, expanding his fame beyond national borders. (16)

While some, in their celebrity, develop dangerous habits like drugs or alcohol, Infante found his vice in a new hobby, flying. Infante is quoted as saying “Mira, en la vida me gusta actuar y cantar, pero hay algo que prefiero sobre todo: volar. Si quieres rómpeme el contrato, rómpelo, porque no voy a dejar de hacerlo, y me mando a volar,” (17) (Look, in life I like to act and sing, but there is something that I prefer above all, flying: If you want to break the contract, I will break it because I am not going to stop doing it.) While Infante held a passion for this activity, the risks of this habit showed themselves throughout Infante’s life. In 1947, after a performance with the Cuarteto Metropolitano (Metropolitan Quartet), Infante was left with a permanent scar after crashing his plane leaving a concert. While flying would give Infante his early brush with death, a decade later, in 1957, it would be his eventual demise. Flying from Mérida, Yucatan, Infante’s plane would fall from the sky, killing the star. By 1957, Infante wasn’t the same wholesome celebrity, and the romantic relations of his past had seemed to catch up to him; nevertheless, his death was a national tragedy. Thousands of mourners made their way to Mexico City, forming rioting crowds, all caused by the unrest of wanting to see the body of the legendary actor. Fame eventually changed Infante, yet in his death, many memorialized the same singer they had come to love. (18)

Conclusion

Infante’s life is a story of personal agency, the difference between Infante, the man and Infante, the legend, and how those are defined. There are the political implications of this, what Infante meant as a political image, as the consistent character that Infante embodied served to establish a standard for the everyman to live up to, one that upheld the traditional and rural identity of Mexico. It became apparent that Infante went along with it, using his life story to build not only this political message, but the image of himself that many would continue to embrace throughout his career. Infante, as we know, was imperfect, not to say that he didn’t uphold the ideas he portrayed, but there was another part of Infante’s humanity that couldn’t be a part of his wholesome image. Infante as an image and as a human are two distinct beings with overlapping characteristics and differences that complicate what we know of the man, which we can see by the end of his career. Many people were aware of his personal life and how it contradicted the charro many had come to know. Infante’s life shows a complicated relationship with personal agency, where neither Infante nor outside forces had total control of defining who Pedro Infante truly is. In Infante’s case, this meant the inevitable tarnishing of his wholesome rustico identity by personal issues. Despite being known by Mexican society, it was also these personal issues that were not a hindrance when eulogizing and memorializing a celebrity's career that left a lasting footprint on the lives of many. Infante was by no means perfect, but Infante’s life and career present a celebrity that, for his faults, was beloved by many for his work.

The Author would like to extend his appreciation to Research and Instruction Librarian Kristina Claunch at SHSU for her assistance in obtaining resources for this project.

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For twelve months between 1964 and 1965, Mexican and Mesoamerican culture invaded the economic heart of the western world, New York City. Grand displays of Mesoamerican art steeped in the mystic symbolism of this ancient culture stood in contrast to modern symbols of art and society. The awe-inspiring Mayan calendar overshadowed skyscrapers, while the enigmatic and mysterious giant Olmec heads instilled a sense of wonder and amazement at the artistic expressions of power of a long-lost civilization. The fair would host pavilions from eighty countries, twenty-four American states, and over forty-five corporations, however, none was more memorable than that of Mexico’s Pavilion. Beyond the savory aromas inherent in Mexican cuisine and tasty beverages that flowed freely, Mesoamerican culture and nationalistic pride of heritage impressed fair goers with the realization that one did not need to travel to Egypt or Rome to immerse oneself in the grandeur and majesty of an ancient civilization. The purpose of this paper is to examine how Mexico used Mesoamerican art, architecture, and food at the 1964 World’s Fair as a vehicle to redefine the nation’s image on the world stage. This paper will argue that Mexico, in the decades following the 1910 revolution, sought to embrace Mesoamerican culture as a nationalistic building block in its attempts to revitalize Mexico’s social, political and economic international position.

Visitors to the 1964-65 World’s Fair in Corona, Queens, NY, had many fascinating and exquisitely designed pavilions to explore. Mexico’s pavilion displayed the nation through the lens of its cultural, culinary, and industrial history. The nation’s entry at the World’s fair was the culmination of fifty years of nationalistic re-branding that stressed the importance of Mesoamerican heritage in modern Mexican society. A modern industrial nation’s art, food, and ancient culture may seem unrelated and irrelevant in an examination of a nation’s place on the world stage. However, for Mexico, these representations of Mexican life represented how Mexico wanted the world to view it and further how Mexico wanted its own population to view themselves. The modern architecture of the pavilion and the placement of the giant Olmec head at its entrance was meant to represent Mexico as a multifaceted modern nation that rose from ancient Mesoamerican culture as the ancient art symbolized where the nation came from and the architecture represented the nation as a modern and advanced culture. [1] [2]

It is important to understand the socio-political relationship between Mexico and the United States to understand how the World’s Fairs help in the development of Mexican nationalism. As Stephen Morris asserts, Mexico and the United States prior to the 1910 revolution were intertwined in a relationship that slowly smothered Mexican culture as the two nations developed. The American language, culture, and industry became so prevalent that towns such as Monterrey and even the capital Mexico City were thought of as “American towns." In the post-revolutionary period, Mexican governments embarked on a campaign in which they sought to roll back the cultural assimilation of Mexico by the United States in order to, on one hand, retain their personal power and the other expand the national influence of Mexico. Fairs and expos became battle grounds in the war for Mexican nationalism. [3]

Susan Douglas, in her article on the evolution of World Fairs, argues that the early fairs and trade expos of the nineteenth century originally were intended to showcase a nation’s place within the context of the industrial revolution. At most pavilions, a nation’s industrial and technological advances were displayed to showcase its progress in industry and in doing so it presented the nation as an economic powerhouse. However, she argues that by the early twentieth century, fairs and trade expos had evolved into socio-political statements rather than industrial ones. For Douglas, Mexico’s efforts at fairs and trade expos became a socio-political advertising campaign that announced to the domestic and international community this is what it means to be Mexican. O’Toole reinforces Douglas’ assertion by arguing that for Mexico the intent of fairs and trade expos shifted from an industrial expression of a nations worth to a cultural expression of national value in post a revolution era. This shift in messaging is important to understand as it coincides with Mexico’s recovery, culturally and economically, after the 1910 revolution. O’Toole argues that the fairs and expos were used to showcase the budding nationalistic sentiment in Mexico that canonized the nations Mesoamerican past and boldly asserted the nations reemergence as a significant nation. [4} {5}

David Brading argues that there is no better example of Mexican socio-political rebirth than Mesoamerican art and modern architecture. Brading asserts, that Mexican nationalism was not something that was new in Mexico as Mesoamerican socio-political themes of resistance are common within Mexico’s historiography. An insurgency against Spanish rule in 1810 declared the founding of a new Aztec empire, while this revolution was doomed to failure, the ideals of a new Aztec empire and the re-conquest of the empire from colonial rule was ingrained in the Mexican socio-political imagination. In the post-revolution era, Mexico’s new modern architecture sought to compliment the ancient as Mexico modernized its international image. By combining Mesoamerican iconography with modern architectural flourishes, Mexico both domestically and internationally at fairs presented itself as a modern ancient culture steeped in the past and looking towards the future. [6]

Art and architecture without a doubt is important in the understanding of Mexican nationalism and its representation at the 1964 World’s Fair. However, the story of food in any examination of nationalism and World Fairs is of equal importance to the narrative as it speaks to the cultural bonds that bind a nation’s people together. Every nation has at least one signature dish that you instantly recognize and associate with that nation, for the English, Yorkshire, for France, escargot, and for Mexico, mole. Jeffrey Pilcher asserts that mole, a signature Mexican dish, made with old world spice and new world chilies, is representative of the way Mexico blended its Mesoamerican and Spanish heritage to create a modern Mexico. Much like modern Mexico, mole, is not Mesoamerican, nor is it Spanish, but rather it is a blend of the two that produced something new and unique. For Pilcher, mole, is representative of what it means to be Mexican, a blend of two cultural identities that results in a new unique identity. As a signature dish of the 1964 World’s Fair, mole, was the only logical choice to represent Mexico on the world stage. [7]

The culinary arts of Mexico at the 1964 World’s Fair were a resounding success and introduced global audiences to the rich foods of Mexico. Mole played an important role, as the signature dish, introducing Mexican food to the global community. Craig Claiborne, in his June 1964 New York Times article, pays special attention to the food and atmosphere of the Focolare, one of two Mexican restaurants represented at the fair. The Focolare, as Claiborne describes the restaurant, is awash with amber and ox-blood ceilings and large pillows for chairs. The atmosphere along with the food was designed to impress upon the patrons the grandeur of royal dining at a Mesoamerican court. At the Focolare, nationalism was vividly displayed in the signature dish mole, part Mesoamerican, part Spanish but completely Mexican. Mole signifies how two nations combined to form a new modern nation, Mexico. The restaurants’ décor and atmosphere were complimentary of the past, while representing modern Mexican nationalism. [8]

Art, architecture, and cuisine at Mexico’s 1964 World’s Fair pavilion, as this paper has shown, was designed to showcase Mexico’s growing nationalistic resurgence. The imagery of Mesoamerican art was intended to impress on domestic and the international audience Mexico’s imperial past. Whereas the modern architecture of the pavilion demonstrated a culture that was proud of its past yet looked to the future for inspiration. Yet it is the cuisine that speaks for Mexico, as mole represents what it is to be Mexican, a blended society that represents the Old World and New.

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From the late nineteenth to early twentieth centuries, Tijuana, Baja California, Mexico maintained a reputation as a vice capital. Americans flocked to the city for drinking, gambling, and prostitutes. Additionally, white women from the American West, especially southern California, became increasingly aware of the lax laws regarding prostitution and sought the safety of the city. Morality laws in the United States created increased difficulty for women who were in the world’s oldest profession, so they moved south of the border. Naturally, this created more concern and famously the Mann Act(s) were passed by the United States Congress, thereby prohibiting the transport of women into the United States or across state lines “for the purpose of prostitution or debauchery, or for any other immoral purpose, or with the intent and purpose to induce, entice, or compel such woman or girl.” [1] The Mann Act(s) was also known as the White Slave Traffic Act, the first act was concerned with immigrant women being brought into the United States for prostitution and the second concerned American women being transported across state lines for prostitution. The passage of these acts emphasized the growing concern with morality and culturally appropriate behavior.

In this paper, I am asserting that Americans who were concerned and outraged about the possible disintegration of traditionally held beliefs regarding women, race, and sex in the United States painted prostitutes as victims of white slavery. Yet, this narrative was not supported by many of the women that engaged in prostitution. Additionally, the paper will underscore the impact of race and ethnicity on this issue. Miscegenation was taboo at best for most Americans during this period. And finally, this paper will address the link between white slavery and prostitution and the development of border control policies. Border regulation was inextricably linked to the prostitution along the U.S.-Mexico border. In general, this paper is an examination of social and cultural norms of the late nineteenth and twentieth centuries in America and how those norms impacted the U.S.-Mexico borderlands.

The 1910 passage of the Mann Act allowed the US government to legislate morality and define and criminalize behavior that was deemed immoral. While the original target of the law was prositution, the vague language of “debauchery” and “immoral purposes'' allowed the law to be interpreted in a much more broad fashion. Thus, people engaging in consensual, noncommercial sexual relationships were prosecuted for violating the act. This broad interpretation of the law was upheld in Caminetti v. United States, 1917 which established the “the plain meaning rule” with Justice William Day writing in the opinion, “When the language of a statute is plain and does not lead to absurd or impracticable results, there is no occasion or excuse for judicial construction; the language must be accepted by the courts as the sole evidence for the ultimate legislative intent, and the courts have no function but to apply and enforce the statute accordingly.” [2] Additionally, the vague language and interpretation of the law easily allowed for the arrest and prosecution of heavyweight boxer, Jack Johnson.

For white Americans in the early twentieth century, Jack Johnson was representative of a Black man not knowing his proper place in society. He was a champion boxer who defeated white men, and most notably and controversially, had public relationships with white women. This was incredibly taboo for the time period and ultimately led to him being prosecuted under the Mann Act. He was prosecuted for transporting a woman across state lines, but it is impossible to separate the issue of race because he was Black and she was white. Men like Johnson represented the possible issues from urbanization and immigration that could develop over time: the possibility of interracial relationships. The Mann Act and the overall concern with white slavery reflected concerns of moral debasement and societal decline. Morality legislation was viewed as a way to fix those problems. Coinciding with this, white women were viewed as vulnerable [3] and pure so they would need to be protected from dangerous men of a different race. With the concern of white slavery came the narrative that women were abducted so they would need to be protected. These concerns and ideas contributed to the victimization of white women due to them being forced to give up their most prized possession, their sexual purity. [4] But, the false victimization and morality legislation is what drove women to Tijuana in order to pursue legal prostitution.

However, when examined more closely, the victimhood narrative did not necessarily hold up according to many of the women who were perceived as white slaves. In “The Selling of American Girls: Mexico’s White Slave Trade in the California Imaginary,” Catherine Christensen Gwin breaks apart the narrative of white slavery as a whole and the supposed victimhood of the women. Following the passage of California’s Red Light Abatement Act, many women left California for Baja California, Mexico in order to make money through prostitution without legal problems. [5] The morality legislation crackdowns led to the development of Tijuana as a vice haven and locale for prostitutes. There, women who worked as prostitutes had protections, and prostitution was regulated as a legitimate occupation. As Christensen Gwin identifies in two of her works, women who fled to Baja California had more lucrative opportunities working in vice resorts and establishments south of the border than in the United States. [6] Esteban Cantú, governor of the Northern District of Baja California, wanted to capitalize on the reputation of northern Baja California as a vice haven by institutionalizing the “economies of vice by selling ‘entertainment…’” [7] Tijuana provided working women better financial and social opportunities than the United States did. The abolishment of brothels in the U.S. did put women at risk of danger, but the regulated market and legal status of prostitution in Mexico provided women with a level of security. This directly negates the notion that women who were prostitutes that moved south of the border were ensnarled in white slavery and were being subjected to unspeakable horrors by men as proclaimed by Roger Bell, et. al in Fighting the Traffic in Young Girls or War on the White Slave Trade.

Grace Peña Delgado asserts that the flight of American prostitutes to Tijuana and the rise in morality legislation led to the development of border patrol and border control. Policing the U.S.-Mexico border was a method to eradicate the white slave trade. Prior to 1907, immigration law and morality laws did not have much intersection. [8] The Immigration Act of 1907 prohibited women from entering the United States for prostitution. The immigration legislation of the United States was shrouded in the racism of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, but, coupled with the morality legislation of the same time period, the attempt was to keep America pure and in compliance with traditionally accepted forms of morality. The combination of legislation, policing, and the language and concern around white slavery was able to reinforce social and cultural boundaries. [9] If white American women were in compliance with the morality legislation of the early twentieth century then fears of miscegenation (as in the case of Jack Johnson) would be diminished. Additionally, the amount of non-white people coming into the United States and potentially mixing with whites would be lowered.

The push for border control can also be linked to the language that was prevalent in discussions of white slavery and played into Americans’ fears. The term “white slavery,” was propaganda itself. It was used to describe women who were involuntary prostitutes. [10] The term was sensationalized as “The Greatest Crime in the World’s History,” as put by Ernest Bell. [11] As previously mentioned, the belief was that young girls and women were being abducted and sold into slavery. This was a marketable claim that instilled fear and concern in Americans. This fear led to support for an agency to specifically focus its efforts on mitigating such a possibility. Delgado explains that eventually, the United States joined an international treaty aimed at fighting white slavery, “But it was not until 1905, at the urging of American anti-white slavery activists, that the United States adhered to some of the treaty’s protocols by designating the Bureau of Immigration as the principal agent to detect and scrutinize alleged prostitutes—and whenever such trade was suspected, deny the entry of these women.” [12] And while this depiction was often of foreign women as voluntary prostitutes who could be denied entry into the United States, that was not the case for American women who were seen as victims. This was due to the association of white women and purity which was not associated with Mexican or Asian women in the same way as it was with white, American women who were thought to be vulnerable, naive, and in need of protection. “The concept of volition was also lost or at least obscured in the rhetoric of Braun and other morals purity advocates who often conflated prostitution, a voluntary practice, with the involuntary sex trafficking of women and girls. Immigration inspectors trying to make sense of prostitution and the mandate to enforce white-slave laws often fused the two ideas.” [13]

The victimization of white women in the context of prostitution can be relayed back to beliefs of white women’s purity and importance in state-making. [14] Thus, protecting the purity of white American women through immigration and morality could have also been viewed as protecting America itself. If American women weren’t subjected to abduction and migration to a foreign country, then America could flourish and be safe. The combination of language and imagery of white slavery was powerful and relevant for Americans in the early twentieth century. In Figure 4 an image from Fighting the Traffic in Young Girls is shown with a caption that mentions “dens of shame.” [15] At that time shame would have referred to young women losing their virginity and dignity by having been involved in white slavery. Protecting and keeping young white women safe and virginal was a culturally significant practice that many Americans supported, thus allowing for the government to strengthen immigration law and border patrol.

White slavery was a bane on the American conscience during the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Horrified that young women were being sold down a pipeline of miscegenation and immorality, Americans rallied support behind immigration and morality legislation. Controlling the movement of people through the Mann Act and the types of people who could enter the country through several immigration acts were implemented to undermine the plague of white slavery. Yet, what many at the time failed to realize what that white slavery and prostitution were not inherently the same thing. Americans conflated the two and the rise in legislation led to the flight of American prostitutes to Tijuana, Baja California, Mexico. There, these women were provided legal protections and increased financial opportunities. However, the language and imagery in America was depicting the women as being forcibly taken and exploited against their will. This belief could be related back to the importance and adoration of white women’s purity and the development of the United States. Protecting American women and girls from harmful foreigners was also protecting America as a whole. Vice establishments and prostitution were viewed as a stain on the morality of America and could pose a danger to such a great nation. As seen in figure 5, vice establishments were believed to be a danger to the public and degrading to American society. Therefore, legislation and policing were viewed as the way to stop the plague on American society.

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It was gold that caused the settlement of Alta California. History is repeating itself in Baja California, that New Italy, which is indeed the colophon (Kalifornia) of that great book—the world. The great Peninsula is too good a country to remain any longer a terra incognita.

B.A. Stephens

The Gold Fields of Lower California,

Los Angeles, March 8, 1889[1]

In February of 1889, the largest gold strike in Baja California's history sent thousands of prospectors from the United States to the port city of Ensenada.[2] One enterprising newspaperman, Bascom A. Stephens, an editor of the San Diego Sun, composed a 48-page guide called The Gold Fields of Lower California to assist prospectors hoping to find their fortune in Baja California. The manual provided valuable legal, geographical, and statistical information to help aspiring miners. Those that delved into the companion would have noticed one perk while reading: travelers could avoid annoying import and export taxes if they came to Ensenada as registered colonists of the International Company of Mexico (ICM).[3] In its helpful descriptions, Stephens left out one critical personal detail: he, along with fourteen other individuals, hoped to use this gold rush as a chance to filibuster (forcibly seize) Baja California from Mexico.

After the Mexican-American War, Mexico ceded vast tracts of land to the United States, including present-day California. While negotiating the 1848 Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, the Mexican government deemed the coastal location of the Baja Peninsula necessary for national defense and its untapped resources too valuable to cede to the American government.[4] After the Gadsden Purchase ceded Southern Arizona and New Mexico land to the US in 1854, the US government stopped actively pursuing Mexican land. Some American civilians and politicians thought differently, seeking to annex parts of Northern Mexico, including Baja California.

Cavalier Americans continued filibuster attempts between 1850 and 1890, believing parts of Mexico could still be annexed and worrying the Mexican government. In 1876, Mexico’s new President, Porfirio Díaz, tried encouraging foreign investment to modernize Mexico while also bolstering Mexico’s stability and discouraging filibusters. American investments and filibuster expeditions in northern Mexico persisted during the Díaz regime.[5] In 1888 a group of ex-Confederates, California newspapermen, and adventurers styling themselves as the "Secret Order of the Golden Field" (the Order) plotted to bring men posing as miners to annex Baja away from Mexico. When their efforts failed, they tried again in 1890. These two filibusters failed due to overconfident planners revealing their plots to the local media, who exposed their plans. Without enough desire by owner capital to collaborate in the schemes, these failures to seize Baja California effectively ended white, American-led filibusters of Mexico.[6]

The Díaz government passed the Mexican Colonization Act of 1883, drawing foreign eager American interest in Mexico.[7] In 1884, American businessmen George Sisson and Luis Hueller represented the ICM in Mexico City and received a land grant from the Mexican government that spanned most of Baja California's area. The land grant came with resource and mineral rights, but the Order had other plans, namely recruiting miners to assist with their annexation of Baja.[8]

Two factors would arrest the 1888 filibuster's development. The first came from a land speculation bust during the year as investments in the area sputtered. This bust caused the population of San Diego (the American launching point for settlers into Mexico) to fall from 35,000 to 16,000 people. The fatal blow to the 1888 filibuster came from a California newspaper. After hearing of rumors of the filibuster, a reporter for the San Francisco Chronicle posed as a potential recruit to speak with Secret Order of the Golden Field organizer, Colonel J.K. Mulkey. Mulkey spelled out the Order's plans: to have (approximately 1500) laborers seize Baja California and proclaim the Republic of Northern Mexico. The report also caught a damning quote from Mulkey: "When the time comes, the Order will be so powerful…It will simply be the story of Texas over again."

With their plan exposed, some amendments came to the Order’s plans. When Mulkey realized the implications of his statements, he tried to walk back his claims saying he had lied to the Chronicle. The attention brought to Order's plan resulted in a delay to their plot until 1890.[9] The most significant change came from new foreign management in the area. In May of 1889, the English-backed Mexican Land and Colonization Company (MLCC) acquired the holdings of the flailing ICM. The owner of the MLCC, Sir Edward Jenkinson, owned a thriving coffee plantation and mining operation in Chiapas, Mexico, and sought to expand his holdings by buying up land rights in Baja California.

The Mexican government also reacted to the 1888 plot by appointing a special investigator, Manuel Sánchez Facio, to inspect the business dealings in Baja California.[10] Sánchez Facio's report alleged numerous breaches of the company charter according to Mexican colonization laws. He also found several other acts that made the company suspect. He strongly recommended that the Mexican government not deal with either company in Baja.[11]

Despite Sánchez Facio's warnings, the second plot continued to take shape in 1889. Jenkinson had appointed Londoner Buchanan Scott as manager of the company in the fall of 1888. One person described Scott's management of Baja California in 1889 as "far superior to any manager the company has ever had." Scott paid the leftover debts of the ICM and oversaw increased economic production in the mining districts. In the spring of 1890, Scott, seeking to bolster company fortunes in the region, agreed to fund the Order's second plot to filibuster Baja California away from the Mexican government.[12]

In April 1890, the reconstituted filibuster group met several times in San Diego to revive their hopes from 1888. This group believed the peninsula contained the ideal conditions for rebellion and secured a $100,000 pledge of aid from an enthusiastic Scott. The fifteen plotters devised a plan called The Grand Fandango to wrest the province from Mexico, putting themselves in the seat of power in Baja California.

The Grand Fandango called for the kidnapping of Baja California's governor with several preemptive steps to ensure their success. The plot hinged around an alcohol-fueled soiree involving the conspirators hosting the provincial governor and his coterie. Before the party, some of the plotters would smuggle and warehouse munitions-including Gatling guns and field cannons- into the town. Other members promised money for the venture to secure bribes for the army stationed in the city to stand down the night of the party. When the Mexican officials got drunk enough, the Americans would spring into action and take the governor into custody. Buchanan Scott also promised two British steamships to assist in controlling the port of Ensenada and suggested his American cohorts take control of a Mexican warship to provide naval support. By May, the group had built on the foundations of their revolutionary plot with soldier recruitment, flag design, and a list of acting members of the new government, most among the group of fifteen.[13] **

Similar to 1888, members' inability to keep secrets from newspapers compromised the chances of the 1890 plot. Captain Janes, a newer group member, spoke to a Los Angeles newspaper about the plot in April 1890.[14] Rumors fueled journalistic attention in the region, leading to the May 21, 1890, exposé in the San Diego Union entitled: "Filibusters Frustrated: Exposé of a Rattle-Brained Scheme to Capture Lower California." The paper, likely having spoken to a recruiter for the Order, spelled out the details of the Grand Fandango and concluded that the schemers named in the article "create distrust on the part of Mexico" and hindered trade relations between the US and Mexico. When media frenzy followed, the Secret Order of the Golden Field's existence faded from the record.[15]

Mexico and the US stepped up their security in response. Mexican officials prepared for other attempts on Baja California, while the US Secretary of State promised to prosecute any legitimate violations of neutrality laws. While rumors and reports of filibusters persisted after this event, no more American-led filibusters materialized after the 1890 fiasco. Attempts after the 1890 scandal most often involved disaffected Mexicans that sought to overthrow the Díaz government. These efforts would persist until the Mexican Revolution began in 1911.

In their failure, some reflections from the plotters suggest American white-nationalistic motivations for attempting such an audacious plan. Some of their brazen attitudes included arguing with a Mexican veteran and getting into an honor duel, while Bascom Stephens wrote an editorial boldly predicting that America would take Baja California sooner or later. Captain Janes, the jilted plotter whose words led to the San Diego Union’s exposé, continued to attempt filibusters in Latin America. He continued to believe that Baja California would eventually break away from Mexico.[16]

Sir Edward Jenkinson forced Buchanan Scott's resignation from the MLCC. Most sources absolve Jenkinson from wrongdoing in the scheme, rationalizing that he would not dare to jeopardize his profitable Chiapas-based holdings. Scott left Mexico and went to India to work for the British imperial administration in that country.[17]

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Music, one can argue, is a necessary form of cultural expression regardless of how it is performed or practiced. In the Chicana/o movement, the music that has gradually evolved holds a substantial presence in America. While some scholars view the cultural adjustment made by the Chicanas/os as a case of an ethnically unique group losing its culture to a larger, monolithic mainstream culture, scholars such as George Lipsitz argue on the contrary. Referring to the Chicanas/os, Lipsitz says, “Unable to experience either simple assimilation or complete separation from dominant groups; minorities accustom themselves to a bifocality that reflects both the way that they are viewed by others.”[1] Rather than outright rejecting or adopting mainstream practices, Lipsitz views chicana/o music as toeing the line between both sides, embracing mainstream forms of music in the United States while still finding ways in which they could express their own culture. Understanding the evolution of the different eras of Chicana/o music is essential because, to quote Chicana scholar/musician Martha Gonzalez, “...takes its cues from its radical predecessors and yet is precisely distinct by the ways in which members have utilized their artistic and creative abilities to develop participatory, process-based community art practices-that is to say, approaches to art and music that focus on relationships and process rather than outcomes and products.” [2] This paper aims to analyze how Chicana/o Americans have inhabited the US music scene inhabiting their unique identities, allowing them to acknowledge the land they inhabit while also recognizing the cultural heritage that raised them.

Chicana/o music of the Late 20th Century

The definition that Gonzalez provides, one that emphasizes musical performance as an experience over a commercialized product, is critical to note because the purpose of performing music will deviate from the mainstream culture of both the US and Mexico cultures, in that the musicians of the movement are focused more on expression and experimentation rather than appeasing mainstream audiences. Gonzalez emphasizes the Época de Oro del cine Mexicano as an influence on the audience’s expectations through her father’s efforts to push her brother into stardom. Notably, for lower economic classes, Gonzalez says, all the pieces in performance, dress, staging, etc., are towards achieving professional status rather than a form of expression. “Western perspectives on music practice are inextricably infused with ideas of professionalization and upward economic and social mobility. I can see how the power and prestige of being a ‘professional singer’ was the only way my father could visualize participation in a music world,” [3] Orquestas like the Texas-based GGs, who initially performed for lower- and middle-class Tejano and Norteño audiences in the Southwest, were creatively limited to performing standard música de cantina for these crowds, despite a desire to incorporate other music genres into their repertoire like jazz. [4] The GGs would progressively gain more artistic control by the 1960s, but their efforts highlight the initial struggle that Chicana/o artists had in being able to express their message. As time progresses, Chicana/o artists begin to progressively focus on personal expression, eventually finding mainstream success beyond their local neighborhoods. [5]

By the 1970s, the central musica moderna was evolving, and the music of the Chicano movement would begin to thrive through changing sounds. A decade after the passing of Ritchie Valens in 1959, a new wave of Chicanos would continue to push Chicano-influenced art to the mainstream, presenting music that was more direct in expressing their heritage. A Los Angeles band of Chicanos known as The V.I.P.s, empowered after performing a cover “Viva Tirado” about a Mexican bullfighter, renamed their group El Chicano, gaining popularity for their Latin-jazz fused sounds and bringing Chicano rock to the mainstream nationwide while expressing their proud heritage through their performance and their identity as a group. [6] Meanwhile, two guitar-playing brothers in San Francisco would play significant roles in furthering Chicano music history. One brother, Carlos Santana, would find mainstream success as the leader of the band Santana, achieving highlights such as performing at the famed Woodstock festival in 1969, and massive crossover success. [7] Jorge, on the other hand, would work as the guitarist for the band Malo, eventually writing the song Suavecito, considered by some to be the Chicano National Anthem. [8] It is the sound that Jorge produced through this song that many members of the Chicana/o movement hold dear, noting that Jorge is, “one of the architects of a truly American sound, Chicano rock…” “Jorge came here from Mexico and not only made this his adopted country and culture, but he also helped establish a Chicano culture for the generations that came after him and even created an anthem for us…” [9] Compared to the mainstream success of Carlos, what Jorge produced is seen as a vital representation of the Chicano movement at a very crucial time, “Released at a time when Chicanos were struggling for basic rights and recognition in the U.S., “Suavecito” is a symbol of unity still widely played and enjoyed today.” [10] The music of Chicanas/os of the 1970s holds different expectations than groups like the early orquestas. The groups of this time are producing music that distinctly represents the binational identity of this movement, presenting art that while still finding mainstream success at times with groups such as El Chicano and the Santanas, was being made to represent the Chicana/o identity. [11]

The 1980s saw the period of Chicano music in which scholars like George Lipsitz dedicated more time, as this is where Lipsitz discusses the complex expression that Chicana/o music takes on. Bands like Los Lobos present the form of Chicana/o art that Lipsitz referred to as a “bifocality,” [12] in some ways summarizing the chicana/o music timeline to that point. Beginning as a band making a living performing traditional folk songs like the early orquestas, eventually starting to find mainstream success through their brand of rock and roll music like El Chicano and the Santanas, in Los Lobos’ case opening for international bands like The Clash. Lipsitz continues, “But Los Angeles Chicano rock-and-roll artists have selected another path. They have tried to straddle the line between the two cultures (Anglo and Chicano), creating a fusion music that resonates with the chaos and costs of cultural collision.” [13] The work that Los Lobos made was the next step in the evolution of the Chicano rock band. While bands like Malo and El Chicano produced Chicana/o-centric music, sometimes with a potential for mainstream success, Los Lobos uses their Chicana/o lifestyles to contribute a unique music performance to a broader, anglicized genre in the United States. [14]

Reaching mainstream success would not be the end of Chicana/o music’s evolution. By the 1990s, as alternative music is gaining prominence and mainstream success, Chicana/o artists in Los Angeles begin to create their form of Chicana/o alternative that incorporates traits from all of their predecessors. This period is a significant time to embrace their tradition, the neighborhood of East LA no longer resembles the predominantly Chicana/o population, and the work of these new bands, under a stronger Chicana/o identity, is impacting more than the Chicana/o neighborhoods. Bands like Ozomatli and Quetzal (led by Martha Gonzalez) boldly emphasize their heritage, using imagery and language from ancient civilizations and native tribes. Beyond music performance, the alternative bands of the 90s also are notable for their vocal activism for chicana/o issues that bleed into other social fields such as worker’s rights. “Rather than a politics of ‘either/or’ that asks people to choose between culture and politics, between class and race, or between distinct national identities, this cultural movement embraces a politics of ‘both/and’ that encourages dynamic, fluid, and flexible stances and identity categories.” [15] The Chicana/o bands of this era, rather than focusing their work exclusively on their communities, begin to address the intersectionality of issues that affect Chicanas/os and other groups in neighboring communities, reflecting the changing demographics. Unable to hide in a bubble, the new Chicana/o bands of the 1990s choose to make inclusiveness a part of their effort.

Conclusion

Chicana/o music and its associated movements are still evolving in the 2000s. Through the razabilly movement that engages Chicanas/os with Rockabilly, we see another form of movement that, as happened with bands like Los Lobos and Santana, challenges the assumption “...that there are forms of music, styles of dress, and other cultural texts that are naturally Latino and others that are not.” [16] This statement summarizes the movement of Chicana/o music beginning in the latter half of the 20th Century. This complex group evolved over the decades, taking on different aspects of Central American and the United States heritage. Far from finished with that, the timeline of Chicana/o music also highlights the vast array of issues taken on by artists within the movement, moving beyond cultural identity and embracing social issues non-exclusive to themselves. Understanding the complex characteristics that make up Chicana/o provides a baseline understanding of the movement and its people, showing that understanding the musicians participating in this music can help understand how complex the Chicana/o identity is.

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In 1900 using their paper the Regeneracion, the Magón brothers continually fanned the flames of revolution against the regime of then President of Mexico Porfirio Díaz.[1] Like steam from a teapot, growing problems within the Mexican economy under President Díaz rose until the Mexican people no longer accepted the heat. The Los Angeles and other investor classes’ capitalization of Mexican resources resulted in enormous land acquisitions by industries in the United States, such as railroad, timber, mining, livestock, and agriculture.[2] But the industry that proved themselves the most recalcitrant, difficult to manage, and fantastically profitable were the oilmen, particularly one of whom made his seat of power in Los Angeles and tried to extend that power by any means, including armed force, into Mexico. The oilmen refused to pay taxes or bow to the demands of Mexican governments after the Revolution, appealing to the State Department of the United States to represent their interests in the oilfields of Mexico forcefully. This is the story of one oilman, in particular, Edward Doheny, one that became successfully wealthy, donated millions to charity, and attempted to use the United States armed forces against Mexico through naked imperialism designed to enforce a rigid code with white elites on top and Mexican peons laboring at the bottom.

In a quest to modernize Mexico, Díaz enticed American investors through large land grants, tax breaks, and further government concessions. The Land Law of May 12th, 1890, allowed the government to expropriate lands for development.[3] The Mineral Law of 1892 permitted landowners to explore their property for oil and minerals regardless of the location.[4] In 1881 crude oil faced no taxes, expanding to all petroleum products in 1887.[5] In 1894 the Property Denunciation Law allowed the government to revoke private property titles and sell them to corporations if the property was abandoned.[6] This latest law proved highly dubious as it gave the corporations the right to determine if a property was abandoned, allowing them to intimidate families off their land before saying the owners abandoned the property.[7]

Edward Doheny was a mining surveyor, but instead of silver and gold, Doheny looked for oil. Born in Wisconsin in 1872 to a large Irish Catholic family, Doheny moved to Los Angeles after several failed mining ventures.[8] In 1887 Doheny made use of the Land Act of 1883, buying properties in the states of Tamaulipas, Nuevo Leon, and San Luis Potosi.[9] In 1900 Doheny and Charles Canfield formed the Mexican Petroleum Company (MPC) with a long list of other Los Angeles investors.[10] In 1901 at El Bano, west of Tampico, Doheny made his first significant oil discovery, causing him to invest heavily into the industry, forming the Huasteca Petroleum Company; by 1902, Doheny owned 448,295 acres in Mexico.[11] After his first decade, Doheny produced 85 percent of the oil extracted from Mexico, becoming the largest independent oil producer in the world.[12]

But even though the oilman invested heavily into the Huasteca region, most of the profits from the oil went to Doheny and very little to the Mexican people or government.[13] Doheny held notions of labor and uplift that translated into terrible working conditions, prompting one Mexican historian to dub him “Doheny el Cruel.”[14] Historian Jessica Kim stated, “His job, as he saw it, was to make a fortune while simultaneously “uplifting” the nonwhite workers he employed in Mexico.”[15] Doheny used labor practices designed to enforce a racial hierarchy with white bosses and skilled labor housed comfortably and with several amenities such as radios and telephones.[16] Historian Myrna Santiago argued white MPC bosses “never let Mexicans forget that they were only fit for ‘low-grade labor,’ for work ‘not fit for a white man’.”[17] The company built its towns around significant sites for their employees but strictly monitored all aspects of their lives; used jails or physical violence to keep the “peace,” and the Mexican workers repeatedly struck in protest.[18]

When the tides of revolution finally broke the levees in 1910, the revolutionaries targeted the large landowners as one of the causes of their woes and targeted them for their vengeance.[19] While other companies suffered, the MPC continued to drill and pump for oil; according to one historian, oil was the only industry that continued its rise in power and profits from the 1910s to the 1920s.[20] Francisco Madero, the next president after Díaz, knew he needed the American and British investors to continue the country’s economy but that their institutions needed to accept regulation and pay taxes, in addition to considering expropriation of investors’ lands.[21] Doheny did not support Madero but did write to the State Department, advising them not to interfere for siding with the wrong faction could risk the investments into Mexico’s oilfields.[22]

Mexican leaders started to try and reign in the oilmen. On June 3rd, 1912, Madero levied a stamp tax on oil, at 20 centavos per ton of exported oil and 5% tax value on the property, which Doheny and 19 other oilmen refused to pay.[23] Venustiano Carranza, who ousted Madero in 1914, ordered the oilmen to stop production while their land leases and government concessions went through examination boards, and government survey teams surveyed the properties, prompting the oilmen to petition the State Department for assistance to no avail.[24] Yet what terrified the Los Angeles oilmen was the rewriting of the Mexican constitution to include article 27, adopted on May 1, 1917, which empowered “the federal government to exercise its power of eminent domain and claim any property needed for the public benefit of the state.”[25]

Edward Doheny was not about to let his views undergo a challenge to his authority by people he considered inferior. Doheny and other investors formed the National Association for the Protection of American Rights in Mexico (NAPARM) to create a media network devoted to influencing public opinion and a lobbying campaign to get the federal government to intervene on their behalf.[26] With Doheny’s and NAPARM’s support, senator Albert Fall organized a subcommittee for hearing testimony from American business owners; concluding in his report armed intervention was necessary for Mexico to ensure American business interests.[27] The recommendation for armed force was exactly what Doheny and his associates hoped for, armed forces invading Mexico in naked imperialism designed to promote racially based hierarchical standards among the oilmen and other wealthy elites with holdings in Mexico.

Despite NAPARM’s frequent forays to Washington, D.C., trying to influence foreign policy, the stark reality they refused to face was that they had no real control over the State Department, that it, in turn, controlled the oilmen by forcing them to make their own way with the Mexican government.[28] Even though the oilmen’s fortunes continued would continue to grow, and the State Department would acquire them some concessions to maintaining American property in Mexico by not recognizing the presidency of Álvaro Obregón, but that was more due to concessions made by Mexico instead of the direct business pressures from the United States.[29] Doheny attempted to influence the Mexican Revolution with an armed force to promote his imperial ideology but was, in turn, influenced by the State Department into accepting the concessions granted but still having to pay taxes, and he sold his Mexican holdings in 1928.[30]

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It started as a makeshift July 4th meal. It came from someone’s mother’s recipe from the Old World. It was stolen from a line cook. Julius Caesar invented it himself. Okay, maybe not that last one, but the origin of the Caesar salad is decidedly a recipe for cultural exchange and thrill. What we do know is that the now ubiquitous food first appeared on menus in Tijuana, México in the 1920s.

One story goes that Abelardo Cesare (Caesar) Cardini, an Italian immigrant, invented the salad at Caesar’s Hotel [Figure 1] - or maybe it was one of his cooks and fellow immigrant Livio Santini, who claims his mother used to make the dish back in Italy.i Another version also helps explain the source of another name for the dish – the Aviator’s salad. In this version, Cardini was entertaining a group of U.S. airmen on leave from San Diego’s Rockwell Field Air Base for July 4th when he ran out of ingredients in his kitchen. He whipped together some romaine, olive oil, eggs, Parmesan cheese, garlic, pepper, lemons, Worcestershire sauce, salt, powdered mustard, vinegar, and bread, and named the dish after his hungry customers. [1] When the dish’s popularity took off, he changed the name to Caesar salad, perhaps futilely trying to avoid confusion about the dish’s origin. Or, perhaps because alternate history argues that it was Cardini’s brother Alessandro who cooked for the airmen that day, Caesar wanted the credit for his own namesake. [2]

Caesar’s Hotel exists today as Caesar’s restaurant, and unsurprisingly, they support Caesar’s and the hotel’s claims to the dish. [3] Caesar’s daughter Rose supports the July 4th version but claims her dad invented the dish earlier, back when he operated a nearby Tijuana restaurant in 1924. [2]

Due to the popularity of the dish, it is no wonder that multiple people would claim credit for its creation. The way that the history of the Caesar salad has become a myth of its own says something about the time and place it came from, as does the man who – allegedly – invented it.

Caesar Cardini took a circuitous route south. He was born in Baveno, Italy in 1896. [4] When he emigrated from Italy aboard The Corsican, he was headed for Canada where he arrived in Quebec City in 1912. [5] [Figure 2] Ten years later, he had already made it to southern California. The city of Santa Ana registered Caesar’s 1924 marriage to Camille Stump, whose family moved to California from Illinois sometime before 1920. [6] Cardini’s arrival in Southern California was probably well before his marriage, as by this time, he had already worked in both Sacramento and San Francisco and was operating a restaurant across the border in México. Their daughter Rosina (Rosa) was born in San Diego in 1928 and the family moved to Los Angeles by 1940 where Caesar remained until his death of a brain hemorrhage in 1956, aged 60. [7]

Cardini was one of more than 90,000 Italian-born migrants to California in the 1920s, but Cardini’s take on the “American Dream” is colored by broader trends in the development of the U.S.-México borderlands of the time period. [8]

Southern California in the early twentieth century was an area of hot spots – Los Angeles and San Diego, namely – built up by the capital and power brokering of local businessmen who sought to create a prosperous white haven in the West. How much Cardini would have agreed with local boosters’ agenda against a non-white underclass is unclear, but Cardini’s story of entrepreneurialism looks like a small-scale version of the empire-building that California’s business elite carried out at the time.

Critical to the image of the west, and Los Angeles specifically, as a destination for upper-middle-class white migrants was a continual attack on “vice.” Vice – drinking, gambling, partying, sex, or whatever ran contrary to mores of the time – was either relegated to non-white sections of the city or driven out of the city limits altogether. Leading up to and through the Prohibition era, the same businessmen promoting southern California’s image and development profited off the vice racket by operating their own gaming dens and saloons just across the border in Tijuana, México.

The leading resort of the era was Agua Caliente (1928-1935), a place where Hollywood stars and even Washington’s elite could vacation in the México sun and indulge in gambling, drinking, and horse racing without reproach. Agua Caliente made kings out of its operators in its heyday and stands out as the most infamous example of white, American capital fueling the tourism and vice industry in Tijuana.

However, just nearby in downtown Tijuana’s Avenida Revolución, Caesar Cardini operated two different businesses of his own. After working at the Palace Hotel in San Francisco and operating Brown’s Restaurant in Sacramento, he opened a restaurant on Second Street in Tijuana in the early 1920s before Caesar’s Hotel opened. A 1919 advertisement for Brown’s in The Sacramento Union boasts a combination of quality food and musical nightlife, and it stands to reason that this environment would have suited Tijuana’s downtown scene as well. [9] [Figure 3]

Americans crossed the border to escape Prohibition and confining social expectations. The acts outlawed by moralists in the U.S., including the 18th Amendment’s Prohibition or local ordinances against dancing and impropriety, did not end. They just relocated, and for southern Californians, the party simply moved into México. In Tijuana, an industry sprang up to meet this need. There was Agua Caliente just outside of town, but there were also boxing rings, the Ballena saloon’s 215-foot-long bar, the Moulin Rouge brothel, and of course a myriad of restaurants, including Caesar Cardini’s establishments and that of his brother, Alex. [10] Historian Eric Schantz refers to places like Tijuana, which received economic growth due to vice tourism in California’s border zone, the “pleasure periphery.” [11] For Cardini’s part, he turned Caesar’s Hotel into an enticing venue to enjoy the local sights and sounds – a 1932 article in The National City News advertises an annual picnic at the hotel featuring “fine Mexican music” and “Jose Arratia, famous México City tenor.” [12] In line with tastes of the time, Cardini even used his restaurant wealth to help sponsor a $7,000 purse for the Coronado Riding Club’s 1931 horse show. [13]

Cardini’s businesses entertained this clientele and even some of the big names that would have been familiar at Agua Caliente. Julia Child dined at Cardini’s with her family in the mid-1920's, where the man himself prepared their salad tableside. [1] Whether Cardini’s growing reputation was due to the popularity of the Caesar salad or if the salad’s popularity was due to the clientele is a classic “the chicken or the egg” exercise.

Also like other “local” businessmen, Cardini operated in Tijuana but by all accounts, lived full-time in the U.S. The Cardinis are listed at the same address in San Diego through the 1940 Census and then in Los Angeles thereafter. U.S. capital flowed south into Tijuana (and, historians such as Paul Vanderwood and Dina Berger agree, into the greased palms of many Mexican government officials and infrastructure projects) and Tijuana’s profits flowed back north into U.S. bank accounts. Cardini was no exception.

Cardini’s business ventures in Tijuana occupy an interesting moment in the history of México’s tourism industry. In contrast to other future tourism zones in México, Tijuana’s initial attraction was not archaeological ruins or sun-kissed beaches. Vice brought Americans to Tijuana, and that reputation was hard for the city to shake, even as tourism expanded deeper into the country’s interior, took on a new face, nationalized, and diversified.

While Tijuana was a day trip for most Americans, safety concerns and a lack of infrastructure prevented tourists from venturing much further on longer excursions. But just as government agreements helped turn vice dollars into public works in Tijuana, México’s national government began to see the potential in commodifying tourism on a large scale. Tourism offered an “invisible export.” [14] Sure, wide-eyed visitors were keen to try “authentic” Mexican food, listen to military bands, and explore ruins. But what México was really selling was a little piece of its culture; the tourism industry’s true product could not be packed up in any suitcase. Thus, expanding this sector offered a way for México to help balance its import/export scales and pay back foreign debt, prompting an increasingly coordinated push to grow tourism beginning in the 1930s. [14] The Pan-American Highway connected Laredo to México City in 1936, and from there, veins of interconnected roads and travel stops funneled visitors out to Acapulco and Veracruz. [14] By the 1950s, new highway systems and an influx of tourists also turned local cuisines tied to specific Mexican villages into niche restaurant fare meant to lure in tourist dollars – a concept not at all foreign for businessmen like Cardini 20 years prior. [15]

What initially drew visitors to Tijuana is not what sustained and expanded México’s broader tourism industry through the mid-twentieth century. The 19th Amendment was repealed in 1933, and perhaps México’s undercurrent of danger was no longer as enticing as it was prohibitive for prospective tourists because businessmen in both México and the U.S. coalesced to conduct a rebranding on México’s behalf in the 1930s. They sought to change Americans’ impression that vacationing in México was dangerous or that the country lacked proper accommodations, advertising improved highway systems, new resorts, archaeological finds, cuisine, and more. [14] Tijuana’s Avenida did not contribute much to the campaign to clean up México’s image. Today, Tijuana is the fourth-most visited city in México, outranked by Cancún, México City, and Guadalajara. [16] Tijuana is still a tourism destination, but México is just as if not more well-known for its historical, artistic, and nature destinations.

The shift began much earlier, and the rise of an organized Mexican tourism industry as a state-led invisible export goes back to the 1930s when Cardini was at the height of his success in Tijuana. We do not know exactly when Cardini decided to vary his portfolio or why, but it seemed to happen alongside the industry’s broader diversification, although in opposite geographic directions. By the 1950s, he was advertising a new Chef Cardini’s restaurant, this time in Glen Ellen in northern California. [17] Toward the end of his life, Cardini began packaging and shipping his Caesar salad dressing to supermarkets, including Moore’s Market in Palos Verdes, California. [18] A dish that began in a restaurant on the Avenida became a staple on menus across California and a dressing bottled on grocery store shelves. Cardini’s empire had moved north and commodified.

Cooperation between private business and public development democratized Mexican tourism while mass distribution democratized the Caesar salad. Today, Tijuana’s Avenida Revolución lives on, as does Caesar’s Hotel - though now owned and operated by an international corporation that still credits the Cardinis in the institution’s history. Today his dressing is packaged and sold under the brand name “Caesar Cardini’s” owned by the T. Marzetti Company. With so many parties vying for credit for the salad’s invention, it makes sense that varying histories would hone in on a purported restaurant opening day, hotel purchase year, or July 4th visit from a fortuitous patron. However, such narrow myths miss a bigger, more powerful story. An Italian immigrant arrived in Canada in 1912 as a waiter, and by the time of his premature death some 40 years later, he had operated half a dozen restaurants and hospitality ventures in two countries, served some of Hollywood’s brightest stars, and packaged a mass-produced product carrying his name. The Caesar salad is ubiquitous, yet its origin story has heretofore lacked the same notoriety. It has become another export of the Mexican tourism industry. Tangibly, the dish relies upon a billion-dollar romaine lettuce import-export industry linking the economies of the U.S. and México. [19] Intangibly, the story of the Caesar salad says something more about cultural commodification in tourist zones and the outsize influence of private businesspeople in developing an entire region and industry.

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As visitors entered the gates of the 1915 Panama-California Exposition in San Diego, they heard “the deep notes of the outdoor organ, the trill of the birds in the tall trees, the cooing of doves in the towers” saw “the splendor of the peacocks’ plumage on green lawns” and were engulfed in the “joyous peace that dwells in the cool cloisters of San Diego’s Exposition. No more peaceful, restful exposition was ever built than this city of Old Spain set in vast gardens.”[1] This “dream city of Sixteenth-Century Spain”[2] was an elaborate creation of San Diego municipal leaders to entice individuals to relocate to San Diego.[3] Advertisements invited individuals to attend the “Opportunity Exposition” in hopes they would choose to relocate themselves and their businesses to San Diego with its “eternal summer.”[4]

San Diego was advertised nation-wide by fair boosters as the “Land of Heart Desire.”[5] The city’s fair had a regional focus highlighting the wonders of the American West, with a spotlight on Spanish missions. Other world’s fairs, including the one in San Francisco the same year, were “Universal Expositions.” However, San Diego’s “Exposition of Opportunity” largely focused inward rather than aiming to show off the wonders of the rest of the world.[6] While advertisements for the Exposition noted that San Diego is a mere twenty miles from Mexico, the city’s Mexican roots were largely ignored. Instead, advertisements focused on how San Diego “aspired to the atmosphere of ‘Sunny Spain,’ both in architecture and its activities, amid the natural wonders of Southern California.”[7] The decisions regarding which cultures to highlight at San Diego’s Exposition in Balboa Park were made largely due to tense race issues, labor unrest, financial gain, and ongoing military conflicts.

The San Diego Exposition was in many ways typical of fairs held across the United States from 1876 to 1916. Desires to boost a region or city’s economy were often the purpose for fairs. Boosters determined what fears plagued people, and then worked to convince Americans those concerns would no longer trouble them if they relocate to the region hosting the fair. The San Diego Exposition also celebrated increased trade due to the opening of the Panama Canal. City boosters promoted economic opportunities, the availability of farmland, the wonders of modern irrigation, and the mild climate to entice individuals to San Diego. Fairs were also a means of American empire building and of establishing a racial and social order in the country. This led to promoting Anglo-Americans as superior. Thus, race relations would have a drastic impact on which countries were represented at the fair.[8]

Despite the desire of fair boosters to focus on the promotion of San Diego and Anglo superiority, the exposition would still include displays from other countries. According to the San Diego Chamber of Commerce, “The countries to be represented at the Panama-California Exposition…are those most directly affected by the opening of the canal, the Latin-American republics of South and Central America, Mexico, and the southwestern states of the United States.”[9] The Exposition also emphasized the beauty of colonial Spanish missions, Native American cultures, and Japanese architecture.[10] European countries were absent from the Exposition due to the ongoing World War. Concerns that the war would impact the fair were assuaged by advertisements that proclaimed, “War will not affect the 1915 Panama Expositions.”[11] However, warfare, race and labor issues would prevent San Diego’s nearest neighbor, Mexico, from attending the fair.

World’s fairs from the mid-1800s through the 1930s were an important opportunity for Mexico to show that the country flourished with modernity under the strong government of the Porfiriato and post-Revolution leaders. Thus, Mexico was represented in American fairs in cities such as New Orleans, Buffalo, Chicago, Saint Louis, Rio de Janeiro, and fairs in Europe such as London and Paris. Fairs were used by Mexican business leaders to form commercial ties by displaying their abundant natural resources. Exhibits extended beyond commerce and included displays of artifacts and performances by Mexico’s military bands. The cultural impact of the Mexican military bands ran deep. For example, at the 1884 Exposition in New Orleans, the 8th Cavalry Mexican Military band’s performances were wildly popular and heavily influenced the creation of jazz music.[12]

Despite the popularity of Mexico’s military bands and the San Diego Chamber of Commerce’s invitation to Latin American countries, Mexico was not represented in San Diego. The outbreak of Revolution in Mexico was a major cause behind this absence. However, there were other issues that made Mexico’s presence at San Diego less than desirable by many boosters and directors. Labor unrest played a significant role in San Diego’s city dynamics at the time the Exposition was being planned. The labor union, the Industrial Workers of the World (oft referred to as Wobblies) organized a chapter in the city. In 1911, the Wobblies, whose membership included many Mexican immigrants, united with socialist rebels under the Revolutionary leader Ricardo Flores Magón to cross the border into Mexico and take the towns of Mexicali and Tijuana. The socialist nature of the Mexican Revolution drew alarm from city leaders who feared the ideas would spread to their city. Additionally, the Revolution put San Diego leaders’ land and business interests in Mexico at risk. For example, fair director and multi-millionaire John D. Spreckels was in the process of constructing a rail line through Baja California and feared the loss of this investment.[13]

Wobblies in San Diego worked with socialists to bring attention to labor issues in the city. These groups soon met resistance by city leaders such as Spreckels and laws were passed to prevent free speech in public areas. This would spark the 1912 Free Speech Fight in San Diego, which saw a great deal of police brutality and came to an eventual end through vigilante justice. City officials believed that immigrants would remain united with Wobblies and other organized laborers. This led to a fear and loathing of immigrants, particularly those from Mexico and Asia. With all of these issues at play while the Exposition was still in the planning process, San Diego leaders did not want to bring in additional people from Mexico to their city, which would have occurred if Mexico had been featured at the Exposition.[14]

Fair planners also used exhibits at the Exposition to further racial divides and emphasize ideals of white ethnic supremacy. This was achieved through ignoring the cultural contributions of the city’s racial minorities, the creation of displays such as the Science of Man exhibit on human evolution, and the demonstration of Western modern science and technology.[15] In particular, the Third Hall of the Science of Man exhibit displayed busts of various races in an attempt to show their physical variations. This emphasis on racial difference was meant to tout white racial superiority in a time when racial tensions were elevated.[16]

While Mexico and her people were absent from the Exposition, fair-goers were still encouraged to take a day trip across the border to Tijuana during their visit to San Diego. In the Union Pacific Railroad publications, the proximity to Mexico is noted. Visitors to the fair are encouraged by railway companies to visit Mexico, where “Tourists are fond of going by tally-ho or automobile to Tia Juana for a taste of Mexican life – and maybe a bull fight.”[17] The San Diego Electric Railway Company advertised day trips to Tijuana where one could “partake of a genuine Spanish dinner and be back in San Diego in the afternoon.”[18] What’s Doing, the publication containing the schedule for fairgoers, also contained a list of “Daily Side Trips” which included “Tia Juana (Old Mexico.)” The day trips to Tijuana utilized rail lines such as the San Diego and the Arizona Railway (S.D. and A.R.R.), which were owned by Spreckels. Visitors to the city across the border could see sites such as National City, the Little Landers Colony, and attend the Horse Races at the Lower California Jockey Club Racetrack.[19] Rather than including Mexico in the fair, day trips allowed the directors and boosters to keep the focus in San Diego on Anglo-American culture, while also profiting from the sales of train tickets for the day trips.[20] Thus, there was more benefit for the directors and boosters in sending tourists to visit Tijuana than bringing Mexico to the fair.

San Diego’s boosters used the Exposition to promote their city to potential new residents and businesses. Tense race and labor disputes, and ongoing military conflicts played a significant role in the selection of entertainment at the Exposition. Visitors were invited to attend the fair where they could enjoy the Old-World splendor of “Spanish Mission architecture, lighted with the soft shadowless glow of Grecian lamps” and watch “the Spanish dancing girls”[21] while disregarding the music and culture of San Diego’s neighbor: Mexico. Thus, boosters carefully curated the 1915 Panama-California Exposition’s entertainment to represent San Diego as a racially superior center for an American Empire.

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When Dr. John Brinkley spoke, people listened. They couldn't help it, really. Everyone in America was listening to the radio, and Brinkley had the most powerful presence on that most popular platform. He built it himself to make sure everyone had the opportunity to buy what he was selling. However, he had to cross the Mexican border like a western movie outlaw to do so. Dr. John Brinkley was a new kind of rogue whose flawed personality and single-minded quest for greatness would unintentionally transform American media and art.

During the 1920s, America became obsessed with radio. The medium was so unique and captivating that consumers would listen to anything they could. Quickly, radio announcers gained the fame of movie stars, maybe greater. For the first time, people weren't just listening to someone speak; they were inviting that person into their home. Radio was a revolution in media and marketing.

Radio broadcasting originated in the United States, which shared its knowledge with Canada. However, the United States didn't want to share the radio spectrum with Mexico, which lagged behind the United States in radio technology. Mexico solved this problem by ignoring its bossy neighbor to the north and broadcasting on any frequency it wanted. U.S. radio programming expanded so rapidly that standards couldn’t be established. Any station could broadcast on a given radio frequency. If another station starts a broadcast on that same frequency, however, the more powerful transmission would dominate that frequency. The United States government saw the need to regulate this new medium and try to add some organization to the process. In 1924, congress passed the Radio Communications Act. Subsequently, the Federal Communications Act created the Federal Communications Commission to serve as the regulating agency for the radio industry. There was only one problem--radio waves didn't respect borders. All it would take was one creative person with means to thwart that entire regulatory scheme. That person would appear as a physician and failed politician from Kansas with something questionable to sell.

Dr. John Brinkley was a salesman at his core. Born in the hills of North Carolina, he grew up in an era of vaudeville and patent medicines. He struggled to complete medical school but eventually began practicing medicine in Arkansas. John Brinkley also had grand dreams. He confessed that he saw himself "freeing the slaves…illuminating the world…facing an assassin’s bullet for the sake of his people…healing the sick.” Brinkley’s delusions of grandeur coupled with his low-to moderate medical competence meant that he needed an idea he could sell. One day a farmer appeared at Brinkley’s office seeking medical help for his lack of “male vigor.” The farmer is reported to have lamented to Brinkley that he wished he had the vigor of a billy goat.

The farmer ended up having Brinkley implant the testicles of a goat into his scrotum. Dr. John Brinkley had found the perfect scheme. Brinkley identified a problem that was critical to its victims and a “fix” that was quick and didn’t cost Brinkley much to perform.

Over time, Brinkley would perform thousands of these operations. Brinkley became at once a master of public relations and one of the most famous doctors in America. Brinkley soon learned about the power of radio and received a radio broadcasting license for station KFKB on September 20, 1923. Three times a day, between the music, the church services, and other programming, Brinkley preached his medical gospel of goat-gland rejuvenation. Soon thousands converged on tiny Milford, Kansas seeking Brinkley’s operation. Brinkley was so successful that he had to build his own hospital.

The president of the American Medical Association, Dr. Morris Fishbein, thought Brinkley was a quack. He went after Brinkley and his goat gland empire. Between lawsuits and negative press, Brinkley ended up without a broadcasting license, without a medical license but with an urgent need to move on. Brinkley decided to try his luck south of the border. He needed a place where he could use radio to rebuild his medical practice. Mexican officials were too happy to discuss the possibility of this wealthy American medical "outlaw" setting up shop in northern Mexico.

Brinkley settled on the town of Acuña for his new enterprise. Acuña is in the State of Coahuila, right across the Rio Grande from Del Rio, Texas. The city of Del Rio, Texas, rolled out the red carpet and assured the famous doctor that his medical practice would be welcomed, though Texas had threatened his medical license.

Brinkley hired an experienced engineer named Will Branch to construct his monster. Branch created a 50,000-watt amplifier by installing six Western Electric vacuum tubes on a parallel circuit. He then built an antenna measuring 24 feet long by 8 feet wide. This antenna was suspended between 2 towers, each 300 feet tall. Shortly thereafter, Branch would add 2 more tubes to increase the output to 65,000-watts as well as a reflector on the antenna that would amplify the signal toward the United States. The result was a station that could be heard anywhere in the United States and in fifteen other countries. At the time, a radio station’s popularity was measured by the amount of mail it received in response to its programming. In early 1932, XER received an unheard of 27,717 pieces of mail in one week!

Freed from the watchful eye of American regulators, Brinkley used XER to funnel thousands of "old weaklings” to his Milford hospital for treatment. Brinkley also featured more traditional radio programming, as he had on his Kansas station. Fiddlers, yodelers, astrologists, and Mexican orchestras appeared on Brinkley's new “border blaster.” Brinkley became tremendously wealthy. He had planes, a yacht, and a vast 16-acre estate in Del Rio known to this day as the “Brinkley mansion.” American authorities approached Mexico to negotiate a deal to reign in the border-blasting XER but to no avail. Shortly after that, Brinkley negotiated an agreement with the Mexican government to authorize XER to broadcast at an astonishing 500,000 watts, making it one of the most powerful radio stations in the world. After some legal entanglements with the Mexican government, Brinkley restructured his radio enterprise under the call letters XERA.

During this period, America was in the depths of the depression and the music and other programming on XERA could transport listeners away from their troubles. Quite unintentionally, Brinkley's radio station, and others like it, would change the course of American music forever. The audiences for XERA were predominantly rural. By blanketing the country with its powerful signal, XERA reached everyone but was often the only signal reaching rural America. Consequently, it often featured what was then called "hillbilly" music for its country listeners. In late 1938, a family from the hills of Virginia came to Del Rio to appear on XERA. A.P. Carter, his wife Sara, and his sister-in-law Maybelle were known as the Carter Family in musical circles. Twice a day, XERA and the Carter family delivered folks from their troubles, if only for a short time.

The power of radio as a medium coupled with the extraordinary reach of XERA launched the Carter family as American music icons. The music heard on XERA would become the bedrock of the country music genre. In fact, one Arkansas six-year-old who first heard the music on XERA (and would later marry June Carter) was country music icon Johnny Cash. Their time on XERA led the Carter Family to Nashville and into country music history. On a more local level, XERA gave traditional Mexican music an audience it would never have otherwise had. One of the early stars was La Alondra de la Frontera, the "Lark of the Border," Lydia Mendoza. After getting her start on border radio, Lydia Mendoza was awarded the prestigious National Medal of Arts in 1999.

Another border blaster had the call letters XERF. Established later than Brinkley's XERA, this "X" station played an essential role in the advent of rock and roll. A DJ named Bob Smith grew up listening to XERF as a child in New York City. He was determined to get on border radio and did so at XERF, taking the on-air name "Wolfman Jack." The Wolfman spun rhythm and blues and rock and roll, introducing America to a new kind of music.

Musically, you can draw a straight line through blues, country, and rock and roll. When doing so in Texas, you must include the Norteno music of the Mexican border. The border blaster radio stations drew that line for their listeners, one of whom combined what he heard into a 50-plus year career with world renowned rock band ZZ Top. Guitarist Billy Gibbons grew up hearing the music that would influence his own on border radio. Gibbons recalled, "…I guess it’s fair to say that what was coming across the airwaves, loud as a police call, was all of that craziness on that first powerful Border Blaster radio station…the blues you would hear on these border blasters influenced the members of ZZ Top.” The border blasters contributed to the unique combination of musical styles that can reasonably be called "Texas music."

Despite its impact on American society, the border blasters were not destined to last. But for a time, Dr. John Brinkley and others who copied him on border radio were on the cutting edge of mass media. Radio was the first mass medium in America. Radio brought the world into the living room of the listener. Like the telephone, television, and the internet, radio dominated media consumption and radically changed the population's lifestyle. When showmen like John Brinkley created the border blasters, they dominated the medium, thereby dominating the market. For better or worse, the content delivered on the border blasters was the dominant content of the age. From quack medicine to timeless music, the borderer blasters changed American culture forever.

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The Mexican Revolution of 1910 has its roots in both long-term structural issues in Mexican government and society regarding land distribution and political participation, as well as foreign influence from Mexico’s neighbor to the North, the United States of America. While perhaps not the primary motivator of the revolution, American economic imperialism certainly played an important role in exacerbating discontent amongst the Mexican people. [1] During the late 19th century, American businessmen turned their interests to Northern Mexico as an avenue for new investments and potential profits. The Mexican government, under the rule of dictator Porfirio Diáz, welcomed this new source of investment and capital despite its introduction of a system of race-based exploitation that subsequently shaped the treatment of Mexican laborers, both in the United States and Mexico itself. Members of Mexico’s working-class and its liberal intelligentsia expressed their distaste for American economic exploitation and their government’s enabling of this practice. The decade prior to the revolution saw this distaste grow until violence broke out in 1910. [2] Of the revolutionaries who laid the groundwork during this decade of rising tensions, Ricardo Flores Magón and his brothers, Enrique and Jesús, stand out as some of the most influential agitators against the Diáz regime and American imperialism. Their rhetoric and opposition give incredible insight into the nature of the United States’ relationship with Mexico and showcase the borderlands between the two nations as an avenue for the transference of capital, people, and ideals.

American economic involvement in Mexico began in the late 19th century when “…economic opportunists believed they needed to reach beyond of the nation and into Latin America and the Pacific World.” [3] Opportunities for investment in the United States had begun to dry up, and so access to foreign markets and goods became a centerpiece of American economic growth. Mexico, thanks to its proximity and large population, attracted American capital which led to an exploitative arrangement that saw Mexican labor and resources fuel urban growth and prosperity in the American West. The American city of Los Angeles became the center of a growing web of investments and ownership that oversaw the transference of wealth from Mexico to an American business elite. To protect their investments, American capitalists turned to their government to ensure stability and an environment conductive to American exploitation of Mexican labor and resources. This relationship between the United States and Mexico, built on imperialistic exploitation, “…fueled the first social revolution of the twentieth century” in which Mexican revolutionaries rejected “…absorption into a world of corporate capitalism dominated by an American investor class.” [4] Mexican social activists Ricardo, Enrique, and Jesús Flores Magón were amongst those most vocal in their opposition to Porfirio Diáz and American imperialism. As both an anarchist and a social reformer, Ricardo Flores Magón published his anti-imperialist rhetoric in his newspaper, Regeneración, until it was censored after a few short months of operation in 1901. [5] Magón spent the next two years in and out of prison for his political beliefs before fleeing to the United States with his brothers to continue agitating against the Diáz regime by way of his publications. Unfortunately for them, the United States government held every intention of maintaining its dominion over the Mexican economy and so harassed and imprisoned the Flores Magón brothers at every opportunity they could. By 1910, Magón had spent three years imprisoned in the United States. [6]

Those who supported Ricardo Flores Magón and his brothers were known as the Magonistas and were present in both Mexico and the United States. They faced similar treatment by the Diáz regime and the United States government as both sought to use imprisonment as a tool to break the movement and put an early end to any revolutionary activity. [7] The Magonistas and the Flores Magón brothers represented a threat to both the American and Mexican financial elite because of their demands for land redistribution. For the Magonistas, seizing lands and investments from their wealthy oppressors to redistribute to the working-class formed the base of their movement and political desires. [8] After decades of economic exploitation, members of the Mexican working-class had grown increasingly aggravated and more inclined towards resolving their grievances through violence. The Magonistas were not the only group of revolutionaries in Mexico, rather, they were one of many different factions that arose in opposition to Porfirio Diáz and his regime. Their opposition to American economic influence is what makes them and the Flores Magón brothers stand out from their fellow revolutionaries and reinforces the notion of the revolution as a working-class affair.

In the lead-up to the revolution, strikes grew more common as the Mexican working-class demonstrated against both their government and its American financial backers. In 1906, Mexican laborers at the Cananea copper mines in Sonora went on strike to protest the payment of higher wages to their American counterparts. A system derived from the race-based hierarchy of the United States, Mexican workers often found themselves paid worse and given more dangerous assignments than the Americans they worked alongside. [9] The situation only escalated when the governor of Sonora invited American law enforcement to help put down the strike, calling into question how deep the United States’ influence over Mexico ran. [10] At the same time, Mexican revolutionaries in the borderlands of Mexico and the United States continued to arm themselves and prepare for the coming revolution. The United States government, at the behest of Diáz and for the sake of securing their citizens’ investments, maintained a policy of arresting and imprisoning these revolutionaries for violating the U.S Neutrality Act. [11] But despite the involvement of the United States, revolutionary fervor continued to grow until an armed uprising occurred in 1910 led by prominent businessman and revolutionary Francisco Madero. Porfirio Diáz left for exile within a year and the next decade saw the revolutionaries’ collapse into bitter infighting. [12]

Ricardo Flores Magón and his brothers stayed in the United States and continued their message of anti-imperialist social reform. Magón’s “…vision for a decolonized, anti-capitalist, and democratic Mexico conflicted with the more liberal agenda of the revolution’s military and political leaders” and once the revolution began to consume itself, he and his brothers founded a communal farm from which they continued their publications and fiery rhetoric. [13] Ricardo Flores Magón was arrested for his final time in 1918 for violating the U.S Sedition Act during the Great War and sentenced to Leavenworth Penitentiary where he would pass from longstanding health issues in 1922. [14] While imprisoned, Magón continued to write and publish his works alongside many other inmates imprisoned for similar crimes of sedition and anti-war activism. [15] Magón and his fellow inmates transformed Leavenworth Penitentiary into a “university of radicalism” where radical ideas of race, class, and societal organization bled together to form new ideological conceptions. Magón’s ideas lived on after his death, influencing likeminded thinkers in both Mexico and the United States.

The Mexican Revolution failed to fully drive out American investment, nor did it successfully overthrow the Mexican political elite who enabled foreign influence at the expense of an exploited working-class, but it did create a new political regime that was willing to reform parts of Mexican society and appease the former revolutionaries. While Ricardo Flores Magón and his brothers may not have seen their vision of a truly anti-capitalist and democratic Mexico established, their commitment to their ideals would live on and inspire many more radical left-wing thinkers across North America. Their struggle is one worthy of attention for how it reveals the nature of the United States’ dominion in the Americas and the effect such influence had on the peoples who suffered through it. The Flores Magón brothers and their followers represent a working-class response not only to capitalist exploitation, but American imperialism as well. Their rhetoric embodies notions of international solidarity in the face of domination from wealthy and powerful elite, be they Mexican or American. Prior to and during the Mexican Revolution, the borderlands of Mexico and the United States saw the development of both a system of race-based exploitation and a working-class anti-imperialist movement to upend it.

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The arid desert terrain vibrates as an incoming stampede approaches a Mexican town. Upon the horses, ride the mighty Comanche people. They gallop to pillage the resources of the Mexican settlers, who inhabit the land that once belonged to the Comanche. Though many historians detail these raids, few scholars attempt to construct a holistic understanding of the nineteenth-century U.S.-Mexican borderland disputes with the indigenous. The United States and Mexico presented legislation, such as the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, to bring peace among both countries and to maintain control over the Amerindian population. This study examines the impact of the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo and the Mexican-American War on the indigenous people. One crucial article in the treaty, Article XI, allied the two governments against the growing threat of indigenous encounters in the newly established U.S-Mexico borderlands. Additionally, this study further explores the indigenous struggles against the rising U.S. and Mexican powers in the nineteenth-century. Thus, the legislation and rhetoric of Article XI exhibited the dehumanization of the Amerindians and their culture.

The Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo remains an essential aspect of U.S.-Mexican diplomacy. Signed on February 2, 1848, the treaty ended the Mexican-American War and forged new boundaries between both countries. According to Richard Griswold de Castillo’s The Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo: A Legacy of Conflict, the treaty consisted of twenty-three articles. Article XI explained the U.S.-Mexican management concerning hostile indigenous raids. The treaty bestowed the responsibilities of indigenous supervision to the U.S. government. The agreement enforced the U.S. to protect the citizens of both countries from these attacks. Additionally, Article XI prohibited the U.S. from purchasing any captive or stolen property of Mexico from the Amerindians. The U.S. government ensured to rescue and return the captives to Mexico. Ultimately, Article XI formed an alliance between the U.S. and Mexico, which required the United States to police the entire borderlands region of any indigenous raids. [1]

Before the Mexican-American War, Mexican settlers of the northern states suffered a long period of indigenous raids. In the 1830s, many southern plains Amerindians raided Mexican towns, ranches, and haciendas. The Amerindians who participated in the raids included the Comanche and Kiowa. [2] Brian DeLay, professor of history at the University of California Berkeley, emphasizes the importance of Article XI. He discusses its strong demand among the citizens of Northern Mexico. In his monograph, War of A Thousand Deserts: Indian Raids and the U.S. – Mexican War, DeLay provides data regarding Amerindian and Mexican violence along the northern states. He collected the data from various archival sources dating from 1831 to 1848. DeLay presents graphs that account the number of Mexican and Comanche/Kiowas deaths. The Amerindian communities killed approximately 2649 Mexican settlers, whereas the settlers killed an estimated 702 Comanches and Kiowas. [3]

The number of violent accounts within this region encouraged the passing of Article XI in the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo. According to DeLay’s article, “Independent Indians and the U.S.-Mexican War,” most northern Mexicans believed that their government failed to protect them from Amerindian raids. During this period, the Mexican government’s resources and security lacked in the northern states due to the conflicts between the centralists and federalists of Mexico. This forced northern Mexicans to turn to foreign powers. Under the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, the U.S. managed all indigenous raids for the northern states of Mexico. Northern Mexicans viewed the U.S. government as their saviors from the native raids. [4] According to a treaty ambassador named Nicholas Trist, the northern states of Mexico agreed to the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo solely for Article XI. [5]

DeLay and others illuminate the Mexican perspective on the raids of the Comanche people during the Mexican-American War. As the dominant indigenous raiders within the borderlands, the Comanche continued to attack the weakened and distracted Mexico throughout the Mexican-American War. [6] According to Pekka Hämäläinen, author of The Comanche Empire, the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo forced the Comanche’s home territory to fall in the center of U.S. control. He examines how the powerful Comanche viewed themselves as vigorous combatants and diplomats during the Mexican–American War. [7] In 1846, Pia Kusa, a Comanche leader, attempted to negotiate with the U.S. to form an alliance against Mexico in return for arms and ammunition. U.S. General John Wool rejected his request. Wool then threatened, the Comanche with punishment if they attempted to raid any Mexican town without motive. [8] Cases such as these strengthened the settlers’ calls for action, and proved the importance of Article XI for both countries. Later, Hämäläinen discusses how the United States’ obligations to protect Mexico from Amerindian raids proved to be impossible. The extensive resources became too costly. Instead, Indian agents, such as James Calhoun, dispatched emissaries to the Comanche territory, known as Comanchería, to purchase any Mexican captives and return them to their country. [9] Calhoun’s approach followed the agreement as stated in Article XI.

For the local indigenous peoples, the new legislation between the U.S. and Mexican powers proved to be problematic. The conflicts in the borderlands occurred during the height of the United States’ oppression of the Amerindians. The U.S. government prioritized the removal and elimination of natives. For instance, the U.S. military attempted to annihilate the American bison. As an important resource and cultural symbol to many plains Amerindians, the bison’s extinction meant the extinction of the Comanche and other indigenous groups. [10] Thankfully, the U.S. military’s efforts failed. The white settlers of the United States considered other methods of indigenous removal. They believed that the Amerindian presence posed an obstacle for Manifest Destiny. In Rhetoric and Reality on the U.S.-Mexico Border: Place, Politics, Home, K. Jill Fleuriet, professor of anthropology at the University of Texas at San Antonio, focuses her research on the Rio Grande Valley of Texas and reconstructs the contemporary idea of the border. When contextualizing this important monograph, Fleuriet states that Manifest Destiny and colonialism share an “expansion for land, belief that indigenous communities were inferior and dangerous, and a religious and moral justification to conquer and assimilate.” [11] Article XI strictly highlighted the indigenous people of the borderlands as “savage” and dangerous. [12] Nineteenth century discourse concerning Amerindians shifted cultural and social processes. The policies between U.S. and Mexico exhibited this type of vocabulary.

Scholars have inspected the distasteful discourse within the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo’s Article XI. The phrasing within the treaty portrayed the natives as villains, and not as a society who lost their home to the practices of Manifest Destiny. The rhetoric referred to the Amerindian communities as “savage tribes,” which displayed a damaging bias within the foundation of this document. [13] Viewing the natives as “dangerous” assisted in the U.S. government’s endeavor to occupy native lands. The rhetoric of Article XI influenced other Amerindian communities. Blake Gentry and his team examine the topic of elimination in their article “Indigenous Survival and Settler Colonial Dispossession on the Mexican Frontier.” They follow the Tohono O’odham, a sedentary Sonoran indigenous group, and their toils for land rights. The authors, a team comprising of various interdisciplinary fields, explain that elimination involved occupying a targeted group’s land, rather than directly destroying a group’s race or identity. Because a community’s land presented an aspect of their character, land stripping helped the U.S. and Mexican powers dehumanize the Tohono O’odham, the Comanche, and all the indigenous groups. [14]

Gentry states that Article XI specifically targeted horse-riding indigenous communities, which included the Comanche. In addition to the Mexican citizens, equestrian communities often raided the Tohono O’odham. Alas, the treaty failed to offer U.S. protection for sedentary indigenous communities. Additionally, Brendan Lindsay, author of Murder State: California’s Native American Genocide, 1846-1873, reveals another factor regarding the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo’s neglect towards Amerindians. The U.S. provided Mexican citizens, who lived in the newly acquired territory, the choice to remain a citizen of Mexico or to become a U.S. citizen. The treaty failed to address any citizenship concerns to the indigenous peoples of California. [15] Though the treaty directly targets equestrian native groups, it also inflicted a strong impact on sedentary groups.

While the settlers of Mexico benefitted from the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo’s Article XI, the Amerindians struggled under the dehumanizing laws established to steal their land. The historical narratives prove that the nineteenth-century borderlands were a harsh environment under constant unrest for all participants. This research shows that legislation with an ethnocentric bias forms a foundation of destructive policies within a territory. Future laws then stem from these discriminatory institutions affecting contemporary communities. This analysis shows the violent side of several societies, and how it remains essential to explore perspectives from many historical players. The Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo forged an essential aspect of the U.S.-Mexico borderlands. Its impact will continue to welcome new historical questions from future scholars of U.S.-Mexico relations and indigenous studies.

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Ricardo Flores Magón lived during a time after the implementation of the Monroe Doctrine and the Mexican American War, which established the dominance of the United States as a world power in the Americas and over Mexico, the southern neighbor of the United States. Although the United States had established itself as a world power in the nineteenth century, the United States was still expanding within its borders using what Kelly Lytle Hernandez called "settler/colonization."[1] Settler/colonization represented land ownership, one of the pillars of the free enterprise or capitalist system. Because the United States Constitution is an amendable document with no expressed or implied hierarchy of citizenry, "all men are created equal." Therefore, settler/colonization was an acceptable way to promote westward expansion in the United States and free enterprise in the nineteenth century. Whereas Mexico already had established rules of citizenry hierarchy that had been established by the Spanish monarch and enforced by the Viceroy before Mexican independence. In the Mexican society and economy, everyone knew their place, and it took a revolution to change the social and economic order somewhat.

This paper will answer several research questions. First, why were there so many different revolutionary groups? Second, why could the revolutionary groups not unite to form a government that represented all the ethnic and labor groups in Mexico? Third, what factors influence Mexican revolutionaries to follow Ricardo Flores Magón?

Cumberland posited that of all "the most outstanding men among the group of leaders, and around whom revolved most of the movement, was Ricardo Flores Magón, idealist and anarchist, who fought for the welfare of the proletariat until he died in Leavenworth Penitentiary in 1922."[2] Magón was unique because he recognized the difference between the goals of the PLM and the other revolutionary factions, which exemplified their various ethnic groups. Montelongo revealed that "Magónistas were campesinos, peons, industrial workers, railroad employees, miners, and middle-class intellectuals."[3]

Cumberland posited that of all "the most outstanding men among the group of leaders, and around whom revolved most of the movement, was Ricardo Flores Magón, idealist and anarchist, who fought for the welfare of the proletariat until he died in Leavenworth Penitentiary in 1922."[4] Magón was unique because he recognized the difference between the goals of the PLM and the other revolutionary factions, which exemplified their various ethnic groups. Montelongo revealed that "Magónistas were campesinos, peons, industrial workers, railroad employees, miners, and middle-class intellectuals."[5]

The reason for the Mexican Revolution is that dictator, President Porfirio Diaz, who had been the president of Mexico from 1876 to 1911, allowed capital investments, especially in the borderlands, by U. S. and European investors, which denied Mexican citizens to develop their own economy.[6] The Mexican rebels saw this control of Mexican lands as U.S. imperialism which created a situation for the indigenous peoples of Mexico that was similar to Jim Crow in the U.S.[7] However, Jim Crow was a horrible institution for African Americans, which included the enactment of Black Codes that restricted the inclusion and upward mobility of African Americans socially, but most importantly, economically. These constitutional rights allowed African Americans in the U.S. to eventually change their circumstances through political and social means and by intermingling with other cultures in the United States. In contrast, Mexico's Peninsulares, White Mexicans, Criollos, Mestizos, Amerindians, Afro – Mexicans, and Asian Mexicans were restricted by their cultural and ethnic heritages with no constitutional guarantees.

One major effect of the Mexican Revolution in 1910 was that it spilled over into the U.S.-Mexico borderlands by activists such as Ricardo Flores Magón and his brothers Enrique and Jesus. The Magón brothers were intellectuals, journalists, and legal scholars, who conveyed the rationale for the Mexican Revolution to the working class, common laborers, cowboys, minors, and lower-class Mexican citizens. The working class, common laborers, cowboys, minors, and lower-class Mexican citizens were the liberal faction, and the elite Mexican citizens were the conservative faction. The main issues that Magón and the Magónistas addressed included the distribution of land to wealthy Mexican landholders by the Mexican government controlled by Porfirio Diaz, capital investment by the U.S., foreign investors that lessened the economic control of the Mexican government and the Mexican people, and the exploitation of Mexican laborers within Mexico along the U.S.-Mexico borderlands and the interior United States. According to Dantán, early as 1906, Magón recommended that Mexico be governed by a revolutionary government "made up of the middle class with close ties to the industrial and middle classes with agrarian reform and labor rights. [8] However, George Woodcock surmised that Magón felt that people should be free to govern themselves cooperatively without government.

Beezley posited that by 1900, Ricardo Flores Magón found himself actively embracing two major political movements—liberal reformists and popular social movements—that ultimately became the vehicles for revolution. Maldonado stated that Teodoro Flores taught his sons, Ricardo, Jesus, and Enrique, to "fight for justice in rural communities."[9] Maldonado revealed that Ricardo was a "radical rural leader, who was from the same Mexican state as Porfirio Diaz, a state with a long history of rural uprisings that continue to this day."[10] Maldonado discovered that the Magón brothers began actively challenging Diaz after he regained power in 1884 after his handpicked president of 1880, Manuel Gonzales, changed the Mexican constitution.[11] Maldonado found that "in May 1892, the Magón brothers participated in a student-led demonstration against Díaz's second election."[12]

Magón continued to protest and speak out against Diaz, and in 1901 Diaz put Magón in prison several times.[13] In 1901, the Magónistas first published Regeneración. Ricardo Magón edited the Spanish version of Regeneración, and W.C. Owen and Alfred G. Santleben edited the English version. After Magón's release in 1903, he and Enrique migrated to Los Angeles, California. Maldonado cited that Magón was suspect of any authority because he felt that organized government favored the elite and persecuted the poor.[14] According to Maldonado, in 1906, Magón published a list of demands for Porfirio Diaz to consider entitled "Programa Del Partido Liberal."[15] In 1916, Magón was arrested for sending "indecent materials" through the U.S. Mail. Magón was again arrested in 1918 under the Espionage Act of 1917 in the United States and sentenced to twenty years in Leavenworth, Kansas, for sedition.

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It is a hot, sweltering day in Mani, a town that resides deep in the heart of the Yucatán. Crowds of indigenous Maya are entranced by the curious sounds of bells ringing as they proceed to their local Catholic church. Instead of proceeding inside the church that is under construction they remain in the courtyard. Although, it seems uncomfortable to the conquering Spaniards, the thousands of natives who are literally packed into the confines of the courtyard prefer outside worship to one that is enclosed. They have worshiped at this very spot for countless generations and many of their descendants will continue this tradition. How did many of these natives eventually come to embrace a foreign faith, strongly associated with their conquerors, and why do they prefer religious services that were conducted outside? Why does the strict catholic clergy allow variations in worship?

Throughout the sixteenth century cultural integration occurred between the Catholic Spanish and the native peoples of Mexico. The Spanish arrived in Mexico with a set and focused agenda – God, glory, and gold – justifying their conquest through the promotion of their Catholic faith. Languages, arts, and architecture began cultivating a new life from the imposed unity and blending of cultures between these groups. In this case it can be argued syncretism held a major influence towards the depiction of intercultural expressions. The term syncretism indicates the fusion of two or more autonomous beliefs and traditions. Religious architectural innovations in Mexico thrived in the first century of the conquest, specifically in the Yucatán region. These are shown primarily through the structures built by the natives and through the supervision of the Spanish friars, generally Franciscans. The designs of the structures consist of atrios, posas, walls, and frescoes which each carry dense symbolism and meaning. The meticulous care and effort put towards these designs feature the act of syncretism, born out of necessity.

The Spanish attempted to convert these groups but encountered resistance. One member of the Catholic clergy, “lamented the sullen unwillingness or incapacity of Yucatán Maya to learn the basic doctrines of Christianity.” [1] It was when they decided to allow forms of the indigenous faith to be mixed with that of the Spanish Catholicism, did they notice an increase and following amongst the masses. As such, the “mission structures were products of this intercultural cooperation and exploration.” [2]

Atrios, known as atriums, are the open courtyards physically linked to the churches in order to allow larger crowds to gather. In the absence of a roof structure, the atrios were utilized to conduct religious services as an open church. Occasionally, they both included and replaced the bases of the muls (temples), which previously served as ritual sites for the natives. Bishop De Landa, who resided in the city of Mani, elaborated on the demolition of a mul, “we cleared it, and there built us a proper monastery all of stone, and a fine church which we called after the mother of God. [3] Another exemplary depiction that can be seen today is of the Franciscan monastery at Izamal.

These atrios were ideal for the initial conversion of the native peoples in massive groups, while a legitimate church was under construction. They created flexibility for either substantial or meager numbers of the faithful to participate in mass and were inexpensive to build. Apart from the clergy, it was common practice that the participants in the atrios were the Maya. Society was separated by the Spanish and clergy, who viewed themselves as superior, and the native population who were considered subordinate by the conquerors. Therefore, lied a deep understanding that these open churches were exclusively for the Maya’s use. Before the conquest, many places of worship resided in spacious areas outside. Consequently, the friars took it upon themselves to create and use atrios as a method to ease the conversion towards Catholicism.

The walls that encompassed consecrated ground enabled religious services to be tranquilly conducted and served a variety of purposes. As a precedent, they were utilized to enclose the structure both physically and symbolically. Physically, to keep animals out and ensure protection from the elements, and symbolically to emphasize the vast importance of the church. Interestingly, the walls of the church grounds had a multi-dimensional purpose to include acting as a means of defense. Since they “were commonly walled, the whole monastery has been regarded as a stronghold, with its church its last thick-walled defense.” [4] While rare, potential attacks by disgruntled natives and outsiders prompted a need to build a fortress-like wall around the church by its occupants. The Spanish relished in their conquest by demonstrating their permanence and in doing so marked a separate reason for building its walls.

The construction of these walls was made to intimidate and amaze natives by their size and demonstrate the importance of the church. However, it is important to note that the walls were not a strong, formidable defense, but utilized solely for emergencies. Another purpose for the walls were the bells affixed to them if they were not attached to the church. These bells galvanized conversions by enticing and intriguing the natives, who had never heard a similar sound. One bishop, “complained that music was converting more Indians than preaching.” [5] Together, the walls and the bells they carried reflected a combination of the locals’ relations, temperaments, and fascinations.

Posas (corner chapels), are where clergy would temporarily halt during religious processions. Traditionally there would be four posas positioned in the four corners of the atrio. Catholics would use these posas as a structure to pray in and protect the eucharist during outdoor processions. Friars also would assemble their parish accordingly near these minor chapels to communicate to smaller groups of people more effectively throughout the atrio. These included times by which the friars improved relationships in the congregation, fostering a sense of community, and imparting religious teachings. Syncretism played a vital role in the decorum of the posas as each carries its own features, functions, and decoration based on the intermingling of the cultures within the area it resides. The masonry of these structures was typically achieved by natives.

Frescoes, known as murals or paintings, were a visual representation of the religious community emplaced in a church. Often even the dyes that the native painters used in these religious buildings were of, “pigments made, in some cases, from local plants and insects, extended centuries-old traditions.” [6] The vivid paintings were not just limited to the interior of churches but also could be found on the exterior, “the idea of covering the outside of a building with painted patterning may as well be Indian; several Spaniards recorded their admiration for preconquest examples of similar surface decoration.” [7] Different visuals included those created by the natives expressing the cultural changes they were experiencing. By maintaining artistic integrity, the natives were able to maintain their cultural identity in a clandestine fashion. These frescoes contained colorful dyes depicting vibrant images throughout the region’s churches.

How are cross societal interactions between Spain and the Maya depicted in churches throughout Mexico’s Yucatán? Religious architecture such as the atrios, walls, posas, and frescoes of its churches reflect the religious cultural mixing between the Maya and Spanish. These four major areas and designs demonstrate the blending of the native and Spanish cultures in a religious aspect. The atrios provided a method by which friars could convert natives in masses, as well as conduct services for large groups. “The major architectural innovation of the new world was the addition of an open chapel, or Indian chapel as it was then known.” [8] Additionally, it served as a reminder of the social classes and structures between the conquerors and the conquered. The walls, both internal and external – provided physical protection and served as a symbolic demonstration of both the church and Spanish presence. Posas were imperative to conducting smaller religious ceremonies and teachings allowing a merger of the community. Lastly, frescoes and other paintings allowed for natives to exercise artistic freedom mixing old and new perspectives alike. Even today, the Yucatán region gallantly displays the architectural innovations and vital role syncretism continues to play following the Spanish conquest of the Maya.

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Chichen Itza or as the Yucatec Maya called it Ch’iich’en itzam,[1] is one of the most well-known ancient Maya cities in the world. Labeled as one of the 7 wonders of the world by UNESCO, Chichen Itza is one of the most visited tourist attractions in all of Mexico. Outside of being a major tourist spot, Chichen Itza is a major archaeological site with many mysteries yet to be solved. The name Chichen Itza is the Spanish name for the archaeological site and translates to ‘En la boca del pozo de los itzaes’[2] or “At the mouth of the well of the Itza” in English. The site is home to El Castillo de Kukulkan, El Caracol, the Sacred Cenote, and The Great Ball Court, just to name a few. Archaeology and astroarchaeology have helped us understand the Maya people better through studies of building arrangements across Chichen, the function of the Sacred Cenote, and what ultimately caused the fall of the city-state.

Chichen Itza is a place full of mystery, but archaeology has aided us in obtaining a better understanding of the life the Itza people had in the pre-Hispanic city-state. More specifically, the field of astroarchaeology has helped in decoding many of its secrets. The Maya are revered for their calendar and how accurate it is when compared to the Gregorian calendar that is used presently. The existence of the calendar helps demonstrate the important role astronomy played in the daily life of the Maya. The Maya used astronomy to set farming and harvesting times of the year. El Castillo consists of 365 steps on each side, the same number of days in the Haab (the Maya solar calendar).[3] Aside from the Haab, the Maya had two more calendars, the 260-day calendar Tzolk’in and the Long Count.[4] While the calendars weren’t created by the Maya in Chichen Itza, they played a major role in the development of the city when it came to the layout of the buildings across Chichen Itza.[5]

Additionally, the Maya also arranged their buildings in specific orientations that depended on the rising and setting of the Sun along with certain star alignments. By studying the arrangement of civil and festive buildings, they were arranged from east to west.[6] This shows that virtually any building in ancient Maya cities had an astronomical function tied to them. This orientation in buildings is what allows the descending snake shadow to be seen from El Castillo as the Sun begins to set on the archaeological site during the spring and fall equinoxes. The arrangement of buildings within Chichen Itza has been observed to have different intervals between their construction of one another from east to west of approximately 13 or 20 days.[7] These intervals have connections back to the agricultural cycles the Maya observed in the ancient city. By having these specific intervals, the Maya understood the time of the year and what food needed to be planted and harvested. By observing the eastern horizon, it could be concluded what time of the year defined the Maya agricultural cycle in Chichen (in this case the months were February and October-November). While the western horizon defined April and May as the burning and planting seasons.[8] This is all an ingenious way to keep track of time and develop a system to maximize system resources.

Furthermore, the 13- and 20-day intervals between building construction not only functioned for the agricultural cycle but also correlate with different significant religious periods of the 260-day Tzolk’ in the religious calendar.[9] By designing this kind of lifestyle, the Maya were able to predict rituals or agricultural practices ahead of time with the limited impact of minor obstructions, such as a cloudy day, if it were to present itself.

Within Chichen Itza, there are two major cenotes in the area. The Sacred Cenote where the Maya sacrificed people to the gods and another where the Itza people would collect water for drinking and agricultural work. There is evidence using geolocation that a hidden cenote could be hidden underneath El Castillo, but not much research has been done on the matter regarding this hidden cenote. Located 300 miles north of the civic center of Chichen, the cenote, the Spanish word for sinkhole, has a diameter of 60m and a maximum water depth of 14m.[10] Even after Spanish colonization, the cenote was a popular pilgrimage location for the Maya. Sacrifices in the cenote ranged from jewelry, pottery, and human bodies. The recovered items later revealed a layer of blue tint that used to be coated on the sacrificial items as noted by Bishop Diego De Landa.[11] Analysis and study of the remains help understand how Chichen Itza was well renowned in Mesoamerica as a pilgrimage site. The isotope analysis helped discover that outsiders of the city were sacrificed into the cenote at some point.[12] This demonstrates that Chichen had active migration patterns or was a pivotal trade contributor in Mesoamerica with Central Mexican tribes and other Lowland or Highland Maya tribes in present-day Guatemala, Mexico, and Belize.

The connection of certain foreign bodies within the sacred cenote having traits to those of Central Mexican tribes can also help understand why certain architectural designs with Chichen Itza differ from other Maya cities. It is disputed that there could’ve been a Chichen Itza ruled over by Central Mexican tribes.[13] While the evidence is limited because of the lack of writings and dates, analyzing certain structures in the northeastern portions of Chichen have a resemblance to the Toltec capital of Tula.[14] This can also explain how the feathered serpent god Kukulkan is absent at older Maya sites like Palenque, located in modern-day Chiapas, but is present in the Yucatan peninsula. Another point to consider is the similarities between Kukulkan and the central Mexican tribe god Quetzalcoatl. Furthermore, the big issue is the lack of period end dates in the Terminal Classic structures of Chichen.[15] The lack of dates makes it hard to pinpoint transition periods of the city-state and potential conquests by other tribes.

Ultimately, everything must come to an end and that was no different for Chichen Itza. A common misconception regarding the Maya spread in early childhood education is that the Maya just suddenly vanished without leaving a trace. That can’t be further from the truth. As shown by the writings of Bishop De Landa in the 16th century or by visiting the Yucatan Peninsula in the modern-day, the descendants of the Maya people are alive and well. Archaeological records also show how Chichen Itza was also experiencing its highest point of growth during the Terminal Classical period, but ultimately collapsed at the end of the 11th century. The cause is unprecedented climate change in the Yucatan Peninsula resulting in long and recurring droughts in Chichen Itza.[16]

The area where Chichen Itza is located within the Yucatan Peninsula lacks rivers in the area.[17] This is crucial in understanding why cenotes and constant predictable rainfall were a must for Chichen Itza to exist and how detrimental long droughts can be. Unlike neighboring Uxmal, Chichen had more stable water supplies and was able to hold on longer but ultimately collapsed by the latter half of the 11th century.[18] These stable water supplies also helped in understanding the transformation of Chichen following its collapse. Measurements of the limestone shelf of the Holtun cenote help picture the different time periods of drought and how the rain returned to the area several years later. Aside from the limestone shelf dating, the cenote has a collection of remains from sacrifices that could only have been placed when the water was below the shelf.[19] This evidence aids in understanding the transformation Chichen experienced in its later years. Even though the rain returned, the Itza left to find a new home. They were left dumbfounded and unable to think of a solution regarding the ever-changing and unpredictable way the Earth’s climate changes. While people occasionally visited Chichen Itza on pilgrimages and continued to sacrifice things in the cenotes, the city was never rebuilt.[20]

While the mysteries at Chichen Itza continue and will remain an enigma of the past, archaeology and astroarchaeology have aided in our understanding of this magnificent ancient city. From the architectural arrangements of structures aligning with the east and west and different calendar intervals to understanding the role Chichen Itza played as a potential religious and trade hub and its final collapse, we slowly build a better concept of what Chichen Itza truly once was.

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