Well when the wind don't blow in Amarillo,
And the moon along the Gunnison don't rise,
Shall I cast my dreams upon your love babe,
And lie beneath the laughter of your eyes.Chorus
It's snowin' on Raton, come morning,
I'll be through them hills and gone.Oh Mother thinks the road is long and lonely,
Little brother thinks the road is straight and fine,
Well little darling thinks the road is soft and lovely,
I'm thankful that old road's a friend of mine.Chorus
Ah, bid the years good-bye, you cannot still them,
Well you cannot turn the circles of the sun,
Well you cannot count the miles until you feel them,
And you cannot hold a lover that is gone.Chorus
Well, tomorrow the mountains will be sleeping
Silent beneath a blanket green and blue
Ah but I shall hear the silence they are keeping
I'll bring all their promises to you.Chorus
From Santa Fe Trail to the Railroads
The town of Raton nestles on the New Mexican side of the border with Colorado. The Raton pass at 7834 feet was first used by Indians and the Spaniards over what became known as the Santa Fe trail. In the 19th Century this hazardous trail through the foothills of the Rockies was attempted by the wagon trains opening up the trade routes of the West. An enterprising local 'Uncle Dick' Wootton gained permission from the States of Colorado and New Mexico to operate a 'toll' road through the pass.
With dynamite and street savvy Wootton hewed out a rough road and built a hotel for travellers at Willow Springs. Wootton's opportunistic enterprise would soon be dwarfed by railroad companies whose land grabbing, stock manipulations made excessive fortunes from Government subsidies.
In 1876 the Denver and Rio Grande railway had laid tracks from Colorado Springs right up into the mountains within a few miles of the Raton Pass. Wootton had already struck a deal with the Santa Fe Railroad, promptly amassing a band to protect the Santa Fe workers. One night in 1876 a gang of Denver & Rio Grande engineers and workers came to challenge the Santa Fe's right to the pass. The first 'railroad war' averted when the Colorado gang judged they did not hold the high ground.
With the Santa Fe railroad cutting through the Raton Pass, the town of Raton became established at Willow Springs. The tiny town of Raton, still only about 8,000 inhabitants, gave rise to the 'waitress'.
Along the Santa Fe line the enterprising Fred Harvey established a series of hotels and restaurants catering for the first well heeled travellers across the West. A meticulous entrepreneur whose surprise visit to Raton, the story goes, resulted in the immediate departure of nearly all his waiters. Unable to find replacements in time he employed some young women. The female touch found distinct favour with railroad travellers. The first batch of 'Harvey Girls' was born.
"The Harvey Girls were the belles of the Southwest and the subjects of a considerable number of legends, songs and bad poems such as:Harvey Houses don't you savvy, clean across the old Mohave.
On the Santa Fe they've strung 'em like a string of Indian beads.
We all couldn't eat without 'em but the slickest things about 'em
Is the Harvey skirts that hustle up the feeds.I have viewed the noblest shrines in Italy
And gazed upon the richest mosques in Turkey
But the fairest of all sights, it seems to me,
Was the Harvey Girl I saw in Albuquerque."quoted from Hear That Lonesome Whistle Blow by Dee Brown
The history of Raton can be found in many tour guides including the Lonely Planet travel books but the best remains Dee Brown's epic tales of the building of the American railroads from which I sourced much of the above. Also recommended is the book I first saw on a Mike Nesmith album cover Dee Brown's Bury My Heart At Wounded Knee. The book remains the essential reference work on the struggles of the American Indian.
Passin' through Raton
On my handful of visits to North America my travels have been inspired by American songwriters and songs. I passed through Raton on March 7th, 1997 aboard a train from Chicago bound for Albuquerque. New Mexico is known as 'The Land of Enchantment'. My own enchantment with it began as the train struggled up into the snow strewn hills headed for the Raton Tunnel. Left behind was the sun basked town of Trinidad. The train having to catch its breath after it overheated. Cool the engines down before pushing on and up to the Raton Tunnel.
Once through the tunnel you really are in the 'Wild West'. The train slowly winds down through the craggy snow capped hills to Raton, about eight miles from the pass. There is a bleakness about the place. An eerie, windy quiet about it as viewed from the train. An adobe station stop where my thoughts are deep in Townes Van Zandt's song.
There is a sparseness, a lonesome traveller on the road nature about Townes Van Zandt's songwriting. Townes Van Zandt, a tragic character whose life seemed play out Hank Williams cowboy poet legacy. Plenty of fellow songwriters have acknowledged their debt to his music. MTV were never likely to find much mileage in him. A Marlboro, stetson hatted, swinging, industrial clean cowpoke singer he wasn't. To me he was a laconic, often funny performer whose songs said more about America than any psuedo plastic theme park ever could.
Townes Van Zandt's Snowin' On Raton fits the town's sparse beauty perfectly. A craggy outpost of the American west about as far as you might get from the images that we Brits are bombarded with from American networked TV shows. I was, as I said just passing through. Maybe one day I will drop down from another train or off Highway I25. If I go back I want a bar singer to be doing Snowin' On The Raton. I want Townes lyrics put up somewhere in his memory.
The train ride down from Raton to Albuquerque is to recommended, a scenic masterpiece as the route gently drops across flat plains with the far mountains as backdrops. It is a long winding run down to New Mexico's Las Vegas where the Spanish Mexican station building stands paint peeled and neglected. The route then heads down to Lamy which is the stop off point for Santa Fe. Writer D H Lawrence and his wife Frieda dropped off the train here once to hang out in the hills at Taos.
On the lower plains of them thar hills the train sweeps by fields full of quietly grazing cattle. The landscape dotted with the occasional flat roofed farmhouse. The region around Santa Fe is a majestic sweeping pine forest area that is breathtaking in its beauty. The train winds down through the foothills between tight canyons that once would have been perfect for an Indian ambush. All this scenic beauty stops as the rusty stockyards of Albuquerque's backyard comes into view.
British travellers will
not find any opulence about Albuquerque's railway station. The small squat
building that serves as waiting room, ticket office and baggage storage is
typical of the American's disregard for their railway heritage. The tiny station
sits aside Central Avenue which was once the historic Route 66. There is plenty
to keep a visitor in Albuquerque where a motel is as modest as twenty six
dollars a night or ninety dollars a week out of season.
Mike
Plumbley
Townes Van Zandt A site run by Townes wife Jeanene Van Zandt including tons of links to related material. See also Shaun Belcher's Flying Shoes for material on all kinds of great music including Townes.