Gene Hayward

 Howdy folks, welcome to the Philmont Ranch (loudly with welcoming hand gestures). My name is Gene Hayward. I’m was the ranch manager for Mr. Waite Phillips from 1921 to 1930. I took to being a cowboy like a horse takes to oats. I’m not one of those cowboys that you see in the rodeo. The only good reason to ride a bull is to meet a nurse. No, I’m a cowboy that takes care of the land and his people.

You’re sitting smack dab in the middle of the old Urraca Ranch. The boundaries are all around us. On the east it was bordered by the old Santa Fe Trail running from Cimarron to Rayado, on the west lay the main mountains, on the south the Maxwell-Abreu lands and on the north the ridge separating the waters (gesture use hands flowing apart) flowing into the Uracca and Cimarroncito creeks.

I’m going to tell you about three groups of people who have lived here and the different legacies they gave to you.

The event that takes me back in time was looking up at the Indian Writings in North Ponil Canyon. We were out in the late spring driving in the herd. One poor little doggie was bawling down in the ruined foundation of an old Anasazi pit house. I went down in there to get em. I saw broken pieces of pottery and broken bits of stone tools. The Anasazi baa-moosed out of here maybe cause of a centuries long drought. Those Indian Writings, I don’t know. I see stalks of corn, streaks of lightning and circles drawn inside circles. Some people think it’s spiritual. When I close my eyes and listen through the vastness of time I hear one thing. “I’m thirsty.”

And that’s the age-old conflict in this land where water is scarcer than hen’s teeth. You can’t bamboozle the land, it’s gonna demand your honest best.

The Jicarilla Apaches arrived a few years after the Anasazi left. They took the ankle express down from Canada, but they were good cow hands and had try in em. From the Plains people they learned to hunt buffalo and use dogs to pull their stuff. From the Rio Grande people they learned to grow corn and beans. From the Pueblo people they learned to make pottery. They had a camp where you parked your machines at Rayado and were making a good go of it. But they had bad neighbors, the warlike Ute and Comanche, which is the Ute word for “a neighbor that wants to fight me all the time.” The Jicarilla skedaddled upta the mountains or they would have been branded for the eternal range.

And then it got worse, the Apache and Comanche heard rumors of bearded men in shining armor to the south. These top hands carried the flag of Spain northward to take the land. The Spanish were hard on the people, but they could never subdue them. That’s like trying to eating soft butter with a knife. The tribes kept slipping away. The Mexicans took this remote corner of the Spanish Empire. Then the Americans took it.

Confidently striding into this mix came the visionary Charles Beaubien. He was a French Canadian, American fur-trader who became a citizen of Mexico. He dreamed of developing the land so all those who lived on it would prosper. To persuade the reluctant

 Mexican governor of New Mexico, he enlisted the help of a Santa Fe big shot, Guadalupe Miranda, and asked 2,700,000 acres of land. That’s over 4,000 square miles. It would take me and my trusty horse three weeks to walk around it.

Now down at the ranch we brand our cattle to show ownership. The local Justice of the Peace done did it better. He wrote in his diary. “I took Beaubien and Miranda by the hand, walked with them, caused them to throw earth, pull up weeds and show other evidences of possession.” With the whole caboodle in hand, Beaubien set about making his vision a reality.

Into this unpopulated area came farmers and the famous explorer guide Kit Carson. The grizzly bears were thicker than flies up near Cimarron. Those clodhoppers had to erect scaffolds (gesture look up) in their fields so they could shoot their Hawken rifles at the bears that were ravaging their crops and livestock. You can shoot a bear, but you can’t make it rain. Less than a century later, some Pennsylvania Dutch came down here to farm. They quickly gave up. You can still see the cement foundations of their homes along the road down from Philmont Headquarters to Rayado. Trying to grow crops here is like trying to mild a dry cow - it ain’t gonna happen.

Now I got a riddle that I read in one of those dime novels. I need Y’all to give me your best answer. I am an empty void. Throw all the gold in the world and not a single inch of me will be filled. I resound in everything, everyone. Release me, if you can, and you will be at peace. Greed.

In those mountains to the west, shale-covered peaks tower above the dark fir and ponderosa forests. The highest of these is Baldy Mountain and it’s made of gold. Three soldiers from Ft. Union went up there in late Fall to verify reports of copper. They got there late in the day, and decided to make supper. One went down to the headwaters of Willow Creek and started panning the creek gravel. By Jiminy, if he didn’t find gold! He ran back up to the guys making supper and showed em the gold flakes. They forgot about supper, the copper and started panning for gold. It was late in the year so they decided to keep their discovery a secret. Each of em only told a few trusted buddies. Soon everybody at Ft. Union knew about their discovery. Out here, cowboys do a million dollar cattle sale with a handshake. We don’t lie, cheat or steal. And there was a lot of that when the ramshackle boom towns went up. They cut down the trees to build those towns and to build the tracks of the iron horse that ran through here.

Try as they might, this land threw off those polecats like a bad case of fleas. The miner’s legacy is decayed buildings, piles of mine tailings and sealed tunnels. The logger’s left trees that were hard to get. Old Paul Zastrow’s (that’s with a W) homestead has a stand of uncut ponderosas that run down to Abreu and up to Lover’s Leap.

How Y’all doing? I’m asking because I learned that if you’re riding ahead of the herd, you need to take a look back every now and again to make sure their with you.

 Mr. Phillips was a good boss. He treated his employees well. Here on the ranch he gave each family what he felt they’d have if they had owned their own ranch. A milk cow, garden seed and beef for the year. He treated his land and animals well also. They were taken care of as much as our manpower could accomplish and as much as mother nature would allow.

My boss, was an ambitious man who tried his hand as a businessman, oilman, rancher and philanthropist. Perhaps Mr. Phillips most memorable role was that of philanthropist. He once said, “Real philanthropy consists of helping others outside your family circle from whom no thanks is expected or required.” In 1938, he gave the Boy Scouts of America 127,500 acres of land and the financial means to develop and support it. A great mind created this gift, the largest youth camp in the world, and great minds are continuing to develop it for the growth and development of the youth of America. As one newspaper reported it, “Benevolence was the distinguishing trait of Waite Phillips, it was the path of duty.”

The history of this land gives you a snapshot of humanity’s history that has played out across the world. Take what you will out of it. I’ve learned two things. (slow down) Treating people well is the foundation of leadership. Without it all the highfalutin ideas come crashin down. Lastly, have respect for the land that you live on or you won’t be living on it too long.

What about you?

When you go back to your unit, district and council... What legacy will you leave?

Composition by JT Murphy