El Norte

The Epic and Forgotten Story of Hispanic North America

Carrie Gibson

• Publisher: Grove Press UK
• Year: 2019
• Print ISBN:
  9781611856330
• eBook ISBN:
  9781611859126
• Topic: History
• Subtopic: Latin American & Caribbean History
• Index: History

For reasons of language and history, the United States has prized its Anglo heritage above all others. However, as Carrie Gibson explains with great depth and clarity in El Norte, America has much older Spanish roots - ones that have long been unacknowledged or marginalized. The Hispanic past of the United States predates the arrival of the Pilgrims by a century and has been every bit as important in shaping the nation. El Norte chronicles the sweeping and dramatic history of Hispanic North America from the arrival of the Spanish to the present - from Ponce de Leon's initial landing in Florida in 1513 to Spanish control of the vast Louisiana territory in 1762 to the Mexican-American War in 1846 and up to the more recent tragedy of post-hurricane Puerto Rico and the ongoing border acrimony with Mexico. Interwoven in this stirring narrative of events and people are cultural issues that have been there from the start and remain unresolved: language, belonging, community, race and nationality. Seeing them play out over centuries provides vital perspective at a time when it is urgently needed. In 1883, Walt Whitman wrote 'to that composite American identity of the future, Spanish character will supply some of the most needed parts.' That future is here, and El Norte, an emotive and eventful history in its own right, will have a powerful impact on our perception of the United States.

Chapter 1

Santa Elena, South Carolina, ca. 1492–1550

AT THE SOUTHERN tip of Parris Island, South Carolina, in the center of a silent grove of trees heavy with Spanish moss, sits a simple white monument. It reads:

Here stood
Charlesfort
Built 1562
By Jean Ribaut
For Admiral Coligny
A Refuge
For Huguenots
And to the
Glory of France

Reaching this point requires driving through the Carolina low country to the Marine Corps Recruit Depot that takes up most of the island. At the far southern end of the base, beyond a golf course, a tree-lined road connects the clubhouse to a small park. Just over a wooden footbridge that spans a dry creek bed is the shady spot where the monument stands. Erected in 1925, this historical marker was later joined by others dotted around the area, explaining how the Spanish spotted this bit of land in 1521, named it Santa Elena in 1526, and fought over it against the French, who arrived three decades later. Parris Island, where the Broad and Beaufort Rivers converge, is surrounded by tidal creeks, mosquitoes, and the dense, wet smell of alluvial mud. It seems an unlikely location to begin the story of the Spanish in North America, and in some ways it was.

The Spanish path to Santa Elena can be traced from Spain to Hispaniola, bouncing from island to island in the Caribbean, until it reaches Veracruz, Mexico. By the early 1500s, three men whose lives would be bound up with the creation of Spain’s American empire had arrived in Hispaniola: Bartolomé de Las Casas, in 1502; Hernando Cortés, in 1504; and Juan Ponce de León, who had been part of Columbus’s second voyage in 1493. They all had complicated journeys to the Americas and through life: Las Casas would undergo a famous conversion over the treatment of indigenous people; Cortés would take a gamble that had an unimaginable payoff; and Ponce would die a failure, though his exploits would live on, misunderstood and misremembered.

Ponce’s career had an auspicious start. As a young man in Spain, where he was born in the Valladolid province sometime around 1474, he participated in the successful campaign against the Moors in Granada before joining Columbus. From there he became involved in the suppression of an indigenous uprising on Hispaniola, in Higüey in 1504, for which he was rewarded by being put in charge of the eastern territory.¹

In 1507 Ponce asked Nicolás de Ovando, who had replaced Bobadilla as governor, for permission to make an expedition to a nearby island, Borikén (sometimes spelled Borinquén) or San Juan Bautista, as Columbus named it on his second voyage, which is today’s Puerto Rico.² Ponce met with local chiefs and explored the coastline before returning to Hispaniola, where he obtained the necessary permissions to colonize the island. In doing so, he was entitled to a share of what was discovered—and he struck gold. Deals were soon made with caciques to force their people to work prospecting in the rivers or digging in mines, as well as growing crops in the fields to support the Spaniards, and so began the encomienda on that island.³

In 1509 Ponce was named governor of the island, a post he kept until it was contested by Diego Columbus, the admiral’s son, who had convinced the courts in Madrid of his claim to his father’s title of admiral and viceroy of the New World. With his newfound powers, he pushed Ponce out in 1511.⁴ This was coupled with a large indigenous uprising in Puerto Rico, which killed at least two hundred Spaniards.⁵ By this point Ponce had amassed enough wealth to undertake another expedition, and in 1512 he secured a royal grant for the right to colonize what was thought to be the island of Bimini, though once again Spanish geography would prove inaccurate.⁶

The impetus for Ponce’s trip was to explore, but also to raid neighboring islands looking for Amerindians to enslave, a profitable enterprise.⁷ As was customary, Ponce put up his own money. He gathered men in three ships, making their way from Puerto Rico to the Atlantic side of today’s Florida. There are uncertainties about where they landed, but the consensus is somewhere between Ponte Vedra, just south of modern Jacksonville; and Melbourne, near modern Cape Canaveral, among the Ais (Ays) people.⁸

They arrived in April 1513 around the time of the Easter feast of flowers, Pascua Florida, so Ponce named the spot La Florida. This was the first known European encounter on this part of mainland North America, though other explorers, slavers, and shipwreck survivors very likely washed up before Ponce did. Initially he thought he was on an island, though he realized it was not the one he was seeking because it did not match his idea of Bimini’s size. All the same, he claimed the territory for Spain.⁹

Ponce and his men then sailed south past Biscayne Bay, down to the Keys, rounding the tip of Florida, ending up in the Gulf of Mexico. Along the way they encountered the fierce currents of the Gulf Stream—the European discovery of which Ponce was later credited with making.¹⁰ They landed in an area belonging to the Calusa people, around modern Fort Myers.¹¹ Although they stayed there a few weeks, the reception was hostile, resulting in a number of small skirmishes that were unpleasant enough to impel Ponce and his men to leave.

Some historians have suggested that Amerindians from Cuba who had fled during the Spanish colonization of that island in 1511 went to Florida, so Ponce and his men were not so foreign after all—the native peoples of Florida had been warned. Some of the earliest, albeit secondary, accounts of indigenous-European encounters in Florida back this up, claiming there were Native Americans who could speak Spanish. It would have meant that the Calusa had some inkling about what these foreigners wanted, and what they were capable of doing.¹² In this particular case, they wasted little time in driving Ponce and his men back to the Caribbean.

Ponce reported a version of his efforts in 1514, even sending the king some gold from Puerto Rico to give the impression that the Florida expedition had been a success.¹³ The ruse worked, and Ponce was granted the title of adelantado (frontier governor) of La Florida the following year. This name was a hangover from the Reconquista era—literally meaning one who advanced troops or invaders, signifying the advance of the Christian frontier and driving out the Moors. In the Americas, it granted the right to organize an expedition to unknown lands, and then claim and govern them for Spain. Ponce started making plans for his return.

HERNANDO CORTÉS, LIKE Ponce, flourished after leaving Hispaniola. He was born around 1484 and grew up in the western Extremadura region of Spain, the son of an hidalgo, or minor nobleman. He studied law in Salamanca but later quit and sailed to Hispaniola around 1504. Once on that island, he obtained the post of notary in Azúa, about seventy miles west of Santo Domingo.¹⁴ He stayed there for a few years before joining Diego Velázquez de Cuéllar, who had also been on Columbus’s second voyage, on an expedition to Cuba in 1511. Columbus had sailed along the coast of the island he called Juana on his first voyage, probably in honor of Princess Joanna ( Juana). This name was interchanged with and eventually superseded by mentions of Cuba, coming from Columbus’s interpretation of what he thought the indigenous people called the island. Soon Cuba began to appear on maps.¹⁵

Velázquez erected a settlement on the southeastern edge of the island, near today’s Baracoa, though the headquarters was moved to a place they named Santiago de Cuba, on the southernmost coast. Cortés served as secretary to Velazquéz for a few years and was later a magistrate, or alcalde, in Santiago by 1517.¹⁶ As had been the case in Hispaniola and Puerto Rico, the indigenous people of Cuba had a complex relationship with the Spanish, often leading to bloody clashes. Subduing them was a formidable task, and the early colonial years were brutal. Although Queen Isabel had attempted to temper the treatment of the Amerindians, considering them vassals who could not be enslaved, violence was rife. Loopholes in the decrees the crown had issued could be exploited, not least the enslavement of anyone who resisted conversion to Christianity.

Isabel died in 1504, and eight years passed before King Fernando turned his attention to how the indigenous people were being treated. The result was the 1512 Laws of Burgos.¹⁷ These required that encomenderos treat the Indians who worked for them well, not beating them and ensuring they had enough to eat. To support more systematic efforts of Christian conversion, they also called for new Indian settlements to be put near Spanish towns, a practice that would cause a significant disruption to traditional patterns of living.¹⁸

With the fledgling colonies located so far from official oversight, abuses continued. The gap between what the crown wanted and what was happening on the ground was filled by a concept that developed in these early decades, known as obedezco pero no cumplo, “I obey but I do not comply,” meaning that mandates from Spain were accepted but not followed to the letter, allowing officials to be flexible—in positive and negative ways—in dealing with orders coming from thousands of miles away by monarchs and advisers who never saw for themselves the challenges of this New World.

Around 1517, Governor Velázquez sent expeditions from Cuba to the nearby Yucatán Peninsula, to the west of the island. One party went ashore, in part to explore but also to find water, and they met the Maya who lived there. Although the Spanish might have been hoping to enslave some of them, the resulting encounter led to the death of fifty Spaniards and the capture of two. A second expedition landed on Cozumel, an island off the coast of the Yucatán, in 1518, with around two hundred men. Although they were attacked, they continued exploring the coast before returning to Cuba to report what they had seen.¹⁹ It appeared to Velázquez that this land might be suitable for settlement, so he wrote to the crown to obtain the necessary permission.²⁰ In 1519, Velázquez ordered Cortés to further explore the Yucatán, but only to explore and trade, not colonize.²¹ Cortés obeyed, but he was not necessarily going to comply. He had other ideas and, gathering some five hundred men, he set sail in eleven ships.

Cortés was taking a gamble. By not waiting for royal permission—doing so would have revealed his plans to Velázquez, who had the same goal—he risked forfeiting everything he thought he might find.²² He first saile...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title
• Copyright
• Contents
• Maps
• Author’s Note: The Search for El Norte
• Introduction: Nogales, Arizona
• Chapter 1: Santa Elena, South Carolina, ca. 1492–1550
• Chapter 2: St. Johns River, Florida, ca. 1550–1700
• Chapter 3: Alcade, New Mexico, ca. 1540–1720
• Chapter 4: Fort Mose, Florida, ca. 1600–1760
• Chapter 5: New Madrid, Missouri, ca. 1760–90
• Chapter 6: Nootka Sound, Canada, ca. 1760s–1789
• Chapter 7: New Orleans, Louisiana, ca. 1790–1804
• Chapter 8: Sabine River, ca. 1804–23
• Chapter 9: San Antonio de Béxar, Texas, ca. 1820–48
• Chapter 10: Mesilla, New Mexico, ca. 1850–77
• Chapter 11: Ybor City, Florida, ca. 1870–98
• Chapter 12: Del Rio, Texas, ca. 1910–40
• Chapter 13: New York, ca. 1920s–’60s
• Chapter 14: Los Angeles, California ca. 1920s–’70s
• Chapter 15: Miami, Florida, ca. 1960–80
• Chapter 16: Tucson, Arizona, ca. 1994–2018
• Epilogue: Dalton, Georgia, 2014
• Time Line of Key Events
• Acknowledgments
• Selected Bibliography
• Notes
• Index