Elfego Baca & The “Frisco War”
“I will show the Texans there is at least one Mexican in the county who is not afraid of an American Cowboy.”
– Elfego Baca, 1884
Nestled nearly a hundred miles north of Silver City, in the rugged, mountainous southwest of New Mexico, lies the unassuming hamlet of Reserve. Bordering the Gila Wilderness, the country’s first protected wilderness area, Reserve in Catron County, presents a seemingly bucolic picture. Today, it’s known for world-class elk hunting and its residents’ vocal opposition to federal land policies. However, this serene village holds a much more dramatic past: it was once the stage for the fabled "Frisco War." This conflict, a display of remarkable skill, courage, and a touch of good fortune, saw a seemingly ordinary 5’7" Hispanic man named Elfego Baca instigate and ultimately prevail in what is arguably the most disproportionate gunfight in the history of the American West.
This extraordinary battle has long resonated as a powerful symbol of the individual’s strength, their ability to stand against overwhelming odds for what they believe is right. At the turn of the century, it represented the "sod-busting" farmer standing up to wealthy Eastern ranching interests. In more recent times, the story of the siege has been embraced by small-time ranchers fighting to preserve their livelihoods and lifestyles in the face of increasing government regulation and economic hardship. Others see the spirit of Elfego Baca in the most powerless of the disenfranchised: endangered species waging their own battle for survival. And for the historian, Baca’s odds evoke parallels not only to Gary Cooper in "High Noon," but also to the ragtag army of the original 13 colonies resisting the might of the British Empire, the small Spartan phalanx holding the pass of Thermopylae against the Persian hordes, and the boy David facing the giant Goliath.
In the 1800s, much like today, the residents of the rural West seemed to share a common grit, a spirit born of wildness, nurtured by freedom, and raised in close connection with the natural world. Both the lawbreakers of the early West and those tasked with "bringing them to justice" were generally rugged, independent individuals. Often, they saw themselves as refugees from the constraints and proprieties of an increasingly perplexing urban society. Both sides were quick to resort to the decisiveness of gunplay, disregard the finer points of the law, and pursue their whims and agendas with a vengeance, often with a distinctive sense of humor and flair.
And surely none embodied this spirit more fully than Elfego Baca. Born in Socorro, New Mexico Territory, in February 1864, local legend claims that he was kidnapped by renegade Indians at the age of one, only to be promptly returned. Baca himself later joked that this incident was another example of his lifelong good fortune. Whether true or not, the event might also suggest his inherent incorrigibility. Whatever the case, Elfego grew into a formidable character. At the age of twelve, he may have assisted his father (and other inmates) in escaping from the newly built Socorro jail by sawing through the ceiling of their cell. Later in life, while serving as a Sheriff, he reportedly reversed the process, enticing wanted men to surrender with a simple, direct correspondence: "Dear Sir… Please come in on (whatever date) and give yourself up. If you don’t, I’ll know you intend to resist arrest, and I will feel justified in shooting you on sight when I come after you. Yours truly, Elfego Baca."
The lines between legend and fact blur in the history of the Wild West. What is certain is that, over three days, from October 29th to 31st, 1884, Baca managed to survive the murderous intent of nearly a hundred irate cowboys. While many know something about Wyatt Earp and the famous O.K. Corral shootout, few have heard of New Mexico’s Gila country or the celebrated protagonist of the Elfego Baca & The “Frisco War” siege. This is peculiar, considering that the Tombstone shootout involved a relatively fair match of four men against five, lasted less than a minute, and involved less than a dozen rounds fired. In contrast, Elfego Baca & The “Frisco War” pitted a single man against over eighty armed adversaries, involved hundreds, possibly thousands, of shots exchanged, and lasted over thirty-three hours! The flimsy structure where Baca took refuge was riddled with bullets, one report claiming 367 perforations in the door alone. Even forks and knives were hit, and the courtroom audience was appropriately shocked by the humble broom brought in as evidence – a broom with eight bullet holes in its slender handle!
The Gila region was initially the home of the Mogollon Indians until their migration down into the Rio Grande basin around 900 A.D. The Apache then arrived, considering the greater Gila as their "sacred hunting ground." By the 19th Century, the area became the staging ground for the last of the Indian wars, with Anglo miners and trappers exploring the tributaries and several hundred Spanish-speaking families farming along the slow-moving rivers. Soon, the Middle and Lower Frisco villages boasted over a dozen bars and bordellos, catering to the influx of cattlemen arriving daily from Texas and Oklahoma. The valley became a hotbed of tension, due to Apache raids to the south and various altercations between the cattle outfits and the Hispanic community that preceded them. "What happened next," historian Jack Ritdron notes, "was only a logical consequence."
In October 1884, the 19-year-old Elfego Baca may have been approached in Socorro by his friend, Pedro Sarracino, the sheriff of Lower Frisco. The sheriff recounted a tale of terror, describing the suffering of the Hispanic community at the hands of drunken cowboys. Baca claims to have chastised Sarracino for his hesitation, who supposedly replied that his job was "available to anyone who wanted it" before retreating to the nearest bar.
In his memoirs, Baca claims he then pinned on a phony kid’s badge before embarking on the long ride to Frisco. Other accounts insist he was already a legally sworn deputy, campaigning in the area for the current Socorro County Sheriff. Either way, Elfego Baca displayed more courage than caution, plunging headlong into a situation he knew little about. Strapped to his side was a Colt .45, its characteristic black resin grips peeking out from under his coat.
Shortly after his arrival on the 29th, a cowboy named Charlie McCarty decided to celebrate life with a shooting spree inside a bar in the Upper Frisco Plaza. The owner, Bill Milligan, an Irish-blooded army veteran, requested Baca’s assistance. Enlisting the help of three local Hispanics, Baca quickly apprehended McCarty, disarmed him, and tucked the unfortunate cowboy’s loaded revolver into his own belt. Their new prisoner hailed from a notoriously rowdy outfit at the John B. Slaughter ranch, and they were none too happy to hear that this self-appointed hero had apprehended their man. When the local magistrate proved too intimidated to try the case, Baca considered taking him to Socorro. In the meantime, he and his friends moved McCarty to an adobe house in the Middle Plaza, where it would be easier to maintain custody of their prisoner.
By this time, a dozen or so cowboys, led by Slaughter foreman Young Parham, had gathered with Winchester rifles at the ready. They immediately demanded their buddy’s release, testing the door and windows with their shoulders. Baca responded from the other side, threatening to shoot if they weren’t "out of there by the count of three." The story goes that they were in the process of making jokes about his inability to count when they heard Baca call out in a single quick breath: "One-two-three!" He and his friends then began shooting through the door. In their haste to escape this lesson in rapid arithmetic, Parham’s horse reared back and fell on top of its rider, resulting in wounds that would later prove fatal.
Word of the Elfego Baca & The “Frisco War” promptly spread to the outlying ranches, including those of the well-known James H. Cook and the Englishman William French. After receiving a signed agreement that he wouldn’t be bothered, Baca agreed to allow his prisoner to be "tried" at Milligan’s Bar the following morning. McCarty was fined five dollars and released, complaining about not getting his revolver back. The prudent Baca began backing out the side door and chasing out the residents of the nearby Armijo jacal. This temporary fortress, pronounced ha-call, was typical of the one-room buildings scattered throughout the valley. Made of thin cedar poles stuck into the ground and coated on both sides with an adobe (mud) slip, its walls would offer little resistance to the concerted attack he anticipated.
Rumors spread throughout the neighboring regions of an "uprising" of the Hispanic population against the stockmen, emboldening the growing mob to seek revenge. A roper known as Hearne was the first to approach the door, kicking at it and screaming that he would "get" Baca. He was answered most poignantly by twin 250-grain slugs, one of which caught Hearne squarely in the gut, sending him to the ground. The cowboys responded with a steady volley of rifle fire, lobbing rounds from nearly every angle. The quickly gathering mob failed to realize that the floor of Baca’s seemingly insubstantial refuge was dug down a full foot and a half below ground level. This allowed him to coolly return fire with his single-action handguns, even as lead rained through the space above.
While most of the town climbed onto the overlooking hills to watch, a group of attackers stretched blankets between the nearby houses to conceal their movements, and others fired from behind the buttress of the adobe church. One brave attacker fell back with his scalp neatly creased by a bullet after attempting to approach the jacal with an iron stove door for a shield. Finally, as day turned into night, they tossed flaming kerosene-soaked rags onto the dirt and latilla (branch) roof. One wall gave way under the combined assault of lead and fire, causing a portion of the roof to collapse on the hapless defender.
Sure that they had "fixed his wagon" by this time, they opted to err on the side of caution, deciding to wait until the following day to dig him out. At dawn, they were surprised, even mortified, by the thin wisps of smoke rising from the perforated woodstove. At one end stood a plaster statue of the Nuestra Señora Doña Ana, while at the other end, the unruffled Baca nonchalantly flipped his breakfast tortillas! The battle immediately regained intensity, with Elfego and the stoic Señora remaining miraculously unscathed.
When James Cook and the newly arrived Deputy Ross of Socorro finally convinced Baca to come out, personally guaranteeing his safety, some of the Hispanic spectators yelled for him to run. With both guns in hand and every cowboy’s rifle trained on his chest, Elfego slowly approached to make his truce. He would surrender, but only if he could keep his weapons, travel in the back of a buckboard with his and McCarty’s Colts, and with all accompanying cowhands keeping at least 30 feet behind them for the entire trip to the Socorro courthouse! The ever-blessed Elfego even missed an ambush planned for him on the route when two different groups of avengers each mistakenly thought the other had carried out the deed. Jailed for only four months, Elfego was tried on two separate occasions and surprisingly acquitted each time.
Nearly every account of Elfego Baca & The “Frisco War” has accepted Baca’s personal tally of battle casualties: four men killed and eight wounded. However, a closer look at other historical sources indicates that only one attacker died from gunfire, with a second killed when his own horse fell on him. Likely, the poor fellow with the bullet through the knee was the only one with a significant non-fatal wound. Regardless, the Frisco War remains the most astoundingly unequal civilian gunfight ever recorded, and a source of conversation and metaphor still.
It was the Frisco shootout that earned Elfego his lifelong reputation as a tough hombre. This reputation followed him throughout his years as a flamboyant criminal lawyer, school superintendent, district attorney, chief bouncer of a Prohibition-era gambling house in Juarez, and as the American agent for General Huerta during the convoluted Mexican Revolution.
For over 80 years, Elfego Baca remained a lively part of New Mexico’s cultural landscape, telling spirited stories of cagey señoritas and political intrigue to anyone with the time to listen. He was one of those who lived through the last half of the 19th Century and survived the first half of the 20th. In the year of Elfego’s birth, horses were the primary means of transportation, even in the more civilized East. He died as eight-cylinder roadsters zoomed by outside his Albuquerque office on August 27, 1945 – exactly three weeks after the first-ever wartime deployment of a nuclear weapon.
Like Elfego before them, the current residents of this rural area demonstrate a tenacious ability to survive the machinations of the modern world, clinging to this challenging and stunningly beautiful land the way the juniper trees cling to the sides of the sandstone cliffs. Newly arrived nature lovers and fifth-generation ranchers share more in common than they may care to admit. They join a history of devout Mormon settlers as well as unrepentant outlaw sinners, Texas and Oklahoma cowboys, and Hispanic homesteaders, the ghosts of the Mogollon Indians, and the spirits of those yet unborn, in devoting themselves to a place known to evoke not only beauty but freedom. Here, the land that lived before our kind, the land that will outlive one’s mortal life, speaks in a language unaltered by either man or time. And the stories of the West’s diverse peoples and wild characters still breathe in its winds and rivers, as in their poignant campfire telling.
© Jesse L. “Wolf” Hardin, 2006, updated November 2024.