Biographies/People (86)

Wednesday, 13 January 2016 18:57

Hugo Hartmann - cartographer

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Hugo Hartmann - Cartographer


Hugo Hartmann, a native of Germany born in 1837, was a well respected cartographer, metallurgist & civil engineer active in NM from 1876 until his death in 1893.


Hartmann came to the US in 1868 after graduating with "high honors" from Heidelberg University. 1874 finds him in Nebraska connected with the Engineering Dept of the Army.  In 1876 he came to the SW with Gen. Hatch in charge of the Engineer's Office of Hatch's military district.  From 1876 until his death he was active doing topographical surveys in NM, Southern Colorado,  and Arizona.  His maps "are accepted in official circles as the best ever prepared". 


Among the references I found of his mapping was work done for Adolph Bandelier in 1884, the Guadalupe Mts. 1883, the Gila in 1884, and the Pecos Valley in 1890. 


I came across his name and an interesting "Sketch Map" he did in 1889 for Capt. Ayres of Ft. Marcy.  (See my article in Voces "Aztec Springs".)  Among other things this map shows (which I have discussed in the above posting) quarries in the vicinity of Two Mile Reservoir and Cerro Gordo hill.


One of the quarries shown on his map is obviously of limestone (see my posting "Limestone Quarries of Santa Fe).  Next to it on the map is shown a lime kiln sitting on the ridge north of Cerro Gordo hill. Lime kilns are used for making cement from limestone.  What is most curious is a coal mine due south on the north side of the Santa Fe river!


I have never heard of or seen reference to coal in the immediate Santa Fe area, much less one actually located on a map.  There are shale outcroppings in the vicinity, but from my reconnaissance I have never seen anything resembling usable coal. My guess is that the kiln was fired by the abundant piñon, juniper and Ponderosa pine in the area at the time or coal brought in from the Madrid district.


Another wonderful map he did was of Santa Fe in 1886 and can be seen in the History Museum at the Palace of the Governors.  This is a large, detailed plan of Santa Fe with much fascinating information. 


Contemporary references of Hartmann appear in the NM Territorial Census of 1885, and then again a personnel list in the War Department's  Quartermaster's Dept of 1889:  Hugh Hartmann "clerk" (sic), Santa Fe, salary $1800 (eighteen hundred dollars).  This wasn't an inconsiderable amount for the time and one of the highest listed in that record.


But in spite of this, he seemed to have money problems as I found a letter in the L. Bradford Prince Collection of the State Archives asking for arrears in rent on his house on Galisteo Street.  Put in the perspective of his health in the last years of his life, it is understandable. 


In 1889, the first great world-wide flu epidemic hit America.  It spread like wildfire due to advances in transportation:  the railroads being it's greatest vector on land, the steamship brought it across the ocean from Europe.


Santa Fe was not immune and Hartmann, according to his obituary, "had been an invalid for several years, a complication of disorders coming upon him at the time of the la grippe epidemic some four years ago."


He died age 56 (Feb. 10, 1893) and left a wife and two children.  He is buried at the Veterans Cemetery here in Santa Fe.




Tomas Jaehn. Fray Angelico Chavez History Library.

L. Bradford Prince Collection.  State Archives.

Daily New Mexican.  Feb. 10, 1893.

Emma Jaramillo Móntez (December 21, 1919-December 6, 2006)


I remember the loving spirit of my mother Emma Jaramillo Móntez, who would be ninty-six years old today.  Born in a farmhouse in Chimayó, NM in the early part of the last century, as a child she studied by kerosene light, helped her brothers gather water from the acequia, learned to cook on a wood burning stove, made ristras and wove blankets, as her family had many generations before her.....and laughed as she chased fireflies at night with a child's delight, under the magnificent New Mexico sky.  

Her early life taught her to trabajár con gústo/work with joy and care.  

In our home mom always had a pot of something cooking on the stove--posole, frijoles, chíle, or caldo--in case someone unexpected dropped by. The house always smelled of her thoughtfulness. She religiously baked bread and made tortillas or sopapillas, so there was always something created by her to scoop up the chíle or on which to spread the peanut butter and homemade jelly.  And she made the best bizcochitos, empanaditas, pastelitos and sopa....ever!  She was often asked to bake for family or friends' weddings or special events....and she did so con gústo!

Mom starched my petticoats just right and made many of my school clothes.  Jumpers. Ruffled blouses. And fiesta dresses, my favorite being the one I wore when I performed with other little girls on the Santa Fe plaza bandstand.  She took me to Dendahl's fabric store to pick out my favorite colors of fabric and ric-rac.  She held me close while guiding me in starting the first few stitches by hand, so I could feel part of this grand fashion design!  And we giggled when I tried it on for the first time, eager for me to make my first twirl across our stage, the living room floor of our little adobe casita on Montez Street. 

Not too long ago, she and I were sitting on the sofa marveling at all my dad's santos, art and carvings, which surround the room not unlike a nórte New Mexico gallery or capílla.  Mom had started to lose some of her memory, even confusing the names of her beloved brothers long gone, or how long it had been since she had seen her grandsons, whom she loved so deeply.   I guided the conversation asking her about the earlier years. I was patient as she reminisced and sorted out the details. We were comfortable sharing our feelings as we had done our whole lives.  She gazed around the room and I waited for her thoughts to be processed and expressed.  She said, "Someday, when your dad is gone, you will have all of this to remember him. I don't have anything to leave for you to remember me."  I said, "But, mom, we ate all of your art because it was so delicious!  And we wore your art until we outgrew them all!  How can we ever forget that?"

Like my dad's art, it is not really the end product that leaves the memory, but rather the loving spirit of what was their life story, left behind in many forms. With my dad, I have his beautiful creations and of course so much more. With my mom, I have the tools of her art--her old sewing machine, favorite rolling pin and cookie cutters, her handmade embroidered apron, and so much more. The end products long gone.  Devoured. Worn out. But memories of her remain of a life fully lived.  Remember?  “Mom, how can we not!”

No one ever made me laugh more or laugh harder than my mom, even towards the end when her memories became fuzzy. We had a cherished bond and a language only we understood.  Usually others left us alone as we shared stories at the kitchen table, often while peeling potatoes or sorting frijoles. She was my very best friend my whole life and I am grateful for all the special moments we shared and the many gifts she created and left behind which I still see.  I still feel.  

I come home every spring to take care of the garden she nurtured with that attention she gave to everything else in her life.  And, as she did for those she loved, I stay until "the snow is on the roses and the bluebird's flown away....."

If you ever visit the Rancho de Chimayo and notice the majestic catalpa tree near the entrance, think of my mom, for it is there she chased fireflies at night and began her life’s journey with memorable purpose.

Friday, 23 January 2015 00:15

Reies Lopez Tijerina, 1926-2015

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