smallhist-blog

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Travels to America - Dr JS Griffiths 1903

The following is a transcript of the words relayed by Dr JS Griffiths to the Bristol Western Daily Press, July 1903.  This exchange takes place around 3 weeks prior to the sad death of Isadore Gonzalez.  More research to follow:

IMPRESSIONS OF A VISIT TO THE STATES: CONDITION OF PUBLIC FEELING

After an absence from England, extending for couple of months chiefly spent with relatives and friends in the United States, Dr. John Griffiths, the Medical Officer of the Victoria Convalescent Home, was called upon by a 'Daily Press' reporter with view to obtaining a few of his impressions of  present day conditions ot American life. 

Seventeen years ago Dr. Griffiths took similar trip, so that he is able to  institute valuable comparisons. 

Soon after landing in New York he proceeded to Baltimore, where he was most kindly-received by Dr. Osler, of the John Hopkins University, with whom he spent two days, seeing much of the work at what is probably the leading medical institution in the United States. He found everything arranged along very advanced scientific lines, and predicts a great future for medicine and surgery in America, the same holding good for all the leading centres of population. 

Pushing on to Washington, the Congressional Library, a magnificent building of white marble, highly decorated, though the colouring is rather of the positive order, claimed, of course, chief attention. There are in the building over a million books, and nearly half a million pieces of music, maps, prints, and photographs. By an ingenious mechanical arrangement all the books required are distributed at a-central stand in the large hall, the person in attendance being able to obtain what book is required in a few minutes. At Boston the library is again the centre of attraction, the magnificent decorations being the work the famous French artist, Puvis Chavannes. 

Cincinnati was the town to which Dr. Griffiths was making his way, and the journey by train was through beautiful mountain scenery, and for 300 miles by the course of the Ohio River. 

Cincinnati is about the site of Bristol, and is similar, in-as-much it is built on hills, the city lying the valley. The suburbs are some of the finest in the world, and were so described by His Majesty the King, Prince of Wales, when he first visited them. 

During the last fifteen years they have developed enormously. The dwellings of well to-do merchants and city men are built on a most elaborate scale, and exhibit a great increase of wealth.  

A visitor to America could not fail be struck with the enormous advance in electric traction. In a short time the whole distance from Cincinnati to Chicago, a distance of over 300 miles, will be traversed trolley cars. Trolley sleeping cars have been introduced. The speed of the cars all over the States is about 25 miles hour, and fare for an 11 miles journey in Cincinnati Is 2½ d. Then again a car can be chartered like carriage England for pleasure purposes, and if you live on the route a car, fitted on a most palatial scale, with armchairs and other luxuries, and attended liveried conductors, draws np to your door and waits for the party take their seats. The car goes any distance the hirer chooses, and transfers are made from one line to another without charging. The owners of the most beautiful residences consider the cars a great convenience, and do not appear to mind the passing and reposing. 

As to the feeling of Americans towards England, Dr. Griffiths found a great change compared with 17 years ago. At that period the Irish question was the all absorbing topic, but during his recent trip he never once heard the Irish question mentioned. Americans seem to have accepted the situation.

He met one of the commanders in the Philippines, and put to him the question of whether it was not absolutely essential for the future Anglo-Saxon civilisation and the ideals the Anglo-Saxon race that America and England should work together, particularly with regard to the expansion in Asia. His idea was that it would be best for England and America to work together assisting Russia and China to work out their own salvation Asia, much depending upon our co-operation to see it done quietly and without bloodshed, and the General concurred in the view. 

At the War Office at Washington he was received with the utmost courtesy, and given all information regarding their ambulance arrangements. The officers there were well acquainted with the missionary [?] work of the St. John’s Ambulance Brigade in the South African campaign, and they expressed a hope that some such organisation would spring up in their country. 

The utmost good feeling towards England was everywhere expressed, and the army officers were very much favour of the closest sympathy between the two countries. 

On the subject of Trusts, Dr. Griffiths had a chat with the president of one the large Trusts, who-assured him that under the new system the working-man was better paid, had more time, end, generally speaking, worked under better conditions, but the middle-class man had been "squeezed" out. The general feeling in America of the man in the street is, however, is one of dislike of Trusts as interfering with private enterprise and the accumulation means sufficient for moderate competency. The question dealing with Trusts was bound to come, and no doubt solution of the problem will discovered. 

From a sanitary point of view America has apparently little to boast about. The contamination of the streams by sewage deposits is a serious matter. In Cincinnati the only available source of water is the Ohio River, which drains Pittsburg and other towns. Water has to be filtered and sterilised, and even under these conditions, as may be readily imagined, is not of the most palatable character. 

The roads, too, are not to be compared with English roads, and the trolley car now monopolises them almost to the extinction carriage driving. 

There is no sign of depression in business, and as to building matters things seem to be going ahead marvellously, instanced by a New York building 25 storeys high, replete with every convenience, from safe deposits and banks to hair-dressing saloons and restaurants, this one building, being for the accommodation of 2,000 persons. 

As to conditions of labour, there were few of the restrictions seen in England regarding the limitation of output, every man and every machine being expected to work at their utmost capacity, or as Americans would say, "to hustle." 

The difficulties attendant here on change of occupation are non-existent, there being far more individual freedom and no limitation due to conventionality or worn out precedent. 

Conversation turned upon convalescent homes.  There are none in America, so far as Dr. Griffiths is aware, but leading medical men admittedd their beneficial effects, and hoped the dlay would come when they would be able to follow the lead of England in this respect.

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The Good Doctor

A Doctor in the house

As Isadore Gonzalez, the tragic hero of my previous post, fell from his horse, a Doctor stepped from the crowd.  

Though they never consciously met, a coincidental connection of two very different lives occurred that night, 23rd July 1903. Today the two men rest in the peace gardens of neighbouring Bristol cemeteries, Holy Souls and Arnos Vale.  They are within line of sight of each other, waving distance should you believe in such things.

The Western Daily Press report of the accident provides us with a name; Dr Griffiths.  Curiously, the reporter sees no need to further explain, seemingly assuming familiarity on the part of the reader.

Who was the man that stepped out of the crowd to Isidore’s aid that night?  Why would the newspaper report assume that their readers would recognise him?  Where does his story lead?

This is the story of Dr Griffiths.  Of how he came to be in the crowd that day, of his contribution to his city and to his travels beyond.

A tale of two Griffiths’

The Western Daily Press article provided me with the best description of the sad incident of Isadore’s death.  The fleeting reference to the Doctor initially catches my attention for fairly banal reasons; I wonder if he studied in the same Bristol University building that I did (now Geographical Sciences but in earlier forms the medical school) and because I grew up in a small Welsh village called Griffithstown.  

But the real reason it strikes me as unusual is because of what is unsaid; why would the reader know who Dr Griffiths was?

As I developed the research into Isadore’s death, this question remains.  Is it nothing?  Was it just the norm of the time?  Just as the minor mystery appeared in newsprint, so is its further unfolding.  

Returning to the excellent British Newspaper Archives it is a swift discovery that there were two prominent Dr Griffiths’ practicing in Bristol at that time.  The elder, Dr Lemuel Matthews Griffiths of Pembroke Road, the younger, Dr John Samuel Griffiths of Redland Park.

As should now be obvious, I believe the doctor that leapt to the aid of Isadore Gonzalez was the younger, John Samuel Griffiths (henceforth JSG).  I had originally formed this opinion on the basis that around a month prior to the incident, JSG had written at length of his cultural exchanges and visits to family and friends in America (more on that soon). It makes immediate sense, circumstantially at least, that someone with such an interest in the West would attend a Wild West Show in his home town.

Lemuel Matthews Griffiths (LMG) by contrast, was renowned locally for his involvement as Chair of the local Shakespeare Society, amongst other cultural pursuits.  Perhaps a less likely fan of cowboys and Indians.

But these are indeed circumstantial and subjective evidences, not firm proof that it is JSG named in the Western Daily Press.  I press ahead with researching his life all the same, in the hope that further evidence will provide the answer.

Census, archives, newsprint and burial records

Its amazing to me how quickly one becomes familiar with archival searches.  I am not a researcher by trade, but am firmly now in awe of the care and commitment of local historical and archive societies and facilities.  Stories are important and they can only be told and understood if they are properly remembered.

My first point of order is, as with Isadore, to explore any census information.  I have little luck with birth, marriage or death certificates but find a useful line in the 1901 census, nearly contemporaneous to the accident.  Here we learn that JSG lived at 20 Redland Park, was married to Sarah Griffiths and held a household of staff and lodgers.  Redland Park is a beautiful, well to-do neighbourhood of Bristol and the property is a handsome town-house.  No doubt then JSG was comfortably off and lived accordingly.

We also learn that he hailed from West Wales, specifically Robeston Wathen in Pembrokeshire.  This tiny town was never likely to satisfy the intellect that JSG displays later in life and so I assume he heads East, to study in the thriving town of Bristol, as did I, over a century later

As it happens my chosen subject, Geographical Sciences was, around the time of JSG, housed in the old medical school building on University Road.  Its a thrill to think that JSG may have received lectures in the old Peel Lecture Hall where I received mine.  But alas its not to be; that building opened shortly after he completed his studies in 1891.

I learn this from the wonderful University Special Collections, housed in the University library where I had myself spent so many long hours studying.  I am somewhat embarrassed to explain that I am researching a man with whom I share no personal or familial connection.  I needn’t be, the staff are warm, enthusiastic and skilfull, as seems to be the norm amongst librarians and archivists.  

Beautiful old tomes appear from the catalogue and I learn that JSG studied from 1884-1991, likely at a building in Tyndall Park.  His qualifications, as was the order of the day, were conferred by the Royal Colleges rather than the University.

It seems that he was a student of impressive capacity, winning prizes for chemistry, practical surgery and the wonderfully named ‘Martyn Memorial Pathological Scholarship for Proficiency in Pathology and Morbid Anatomy’ in 1890.  For the latter he received ten pounds towards his final year of study.  What a wonderful detail.

Despite all this I remain nagged by the doubt that my search is for the wrong Griffiths.  While poring the University collections I stumble across some of the activities of LMG during the same period, also a Bristol student.  His name appears frequently throughout the records and is credited as the Medical Librarian there.  It is like bumping into an old acquaintance and I quickly lose my concerns.  Instead I am pleased to be remembering two seemingly good men, for the effort of one.

Things move along apace; I shortly receive news of his burial from Arnos Vale Cemetery, recorded as April 1933.  Although it confers little additional detail of his life, the precise date of his death is extremely useful.  The University collections had listed his life as 1859-1933 but had not provided specific dates.  Likewise I had not been able to find census data confirming, making it difficult to locate any newspaper announcements of his passing.  The cemetery also provides confirmation that he was cremated and a memorial service held at the beautiful Peace Garden, below (credit Visit Bristol):

I turn back to the newspaper archives and discover further details of a life well lived.  He was, for a time, the Deputy Lieutenant of Gloucestershire, County Director for the Red Cross and, perhaps his life’s work, the Medical Officer of the Victoria Convalescent Hospital during the Great War.  

He was also a founder of the Clifton Arts Club, still vibrantly active to this day.  This latter detail somewhat spoils my presumption however, that I should dismiss LMG on the basis that his interests did not seem to lie in the Wild West but in the arts.

As if to remind me of this a small incident of LMG’s life surfaces again during the newspaper trawl.  He had been struck near his home by a taxi cab, breaking his leg in 1911.  Wonderful details again, though perhaps not for him.

Then, just as I begin to plan this post on the basis of this uncertainty, I find JSG’s obituary.

Knight of Grace of the Order of St John

JSG died, surrounded by family, in April 1933.  He had practiced medicine in Bristol for 40 years and left his wife, Sarah and his daughter, at the (now) family home at 25 Redland Park, a stones throw from where he lived in 1901.  The funeral was attended by Bristol’s brightest and the Western Daily Press dedicates a lengthy obituary (see excerpt below).

We learn that his role at the Victoria Convalescent Hospital was to lead the care of the recuperation of the injured of the Great War. He would have received many wounded soldiers from those who had been treated at the Bristol Infirmary, the same hospital in which Isadore had finally succumbed to his injuries.  

But the detail that provides the closure I am looking for is his award of the title of Knight of Grace of the Order of St John.  He is noted as playing a prominent, pioneering role in the founding of the Bristol St John’s Ambulance who are well represented at his funeral.

Just as they do today the St John’s Ambulance provide a public service, providing medical oversight to large public events.  At the time of the accident the Brigade was less than twenty five years old, still fixing itself in the public imagination.  Today they are a common sight at sporting and musical events, unassumingly providing an essential service when called upon.

Suddenly all makes sense; JSG was no doubt interested in the show itself but he also had a formal role there.  As part of the St John’s he was naturally a first responder to Isadore’s accident.

Epilogue

JSG’s life, by any standards, was well lived.  His contribution to public life, his service during the Great War and his achievements as a medical practitioner are significant.  

Unlike Isadore, there is no real tragedy to be told in his story, other than perhaps at his death the first dark clouds of the Second World War must have been on the horizon.  Was this tireless public servant aware of that?  Was he relieved to depart before hell once again broke loose?  I doubt this is so.  He strikes me as a man that would have again committed himself to serving fallen soldiers, for as long as he was needed.

To close this story I take a walk around JSG’s haunts.  I wander around the university precinct and am reminded of my time there, a welcome nostalgia. A short stroll to the Victoria Convalescent Hospital from there, still standing though now covered in scaffold ahead of its conversion to retirement flats. Finally To his beautiful home at 25 Redland Park and a pint at the Clyde public house, opposite.  I wonder if he had enjoyed a beer there himself, very possible given its age. I certainly hope so; I raise a quick glass there, in gratitude for his public service but mainly for his attempt to save Isadore.

I also stop at Arnos Vale to pay my respects at the peace garden where his funeral was held.  It is a short walk from Isadore, whom I also visit.  These two men have provided a wonderful platform for my Small History side quest; to take one story and follow random coincidental connections wherever they lead. For that I am grateful to both.

And where next?  I wonder about that family in America...

25 Redland Park

The Clyde (directly opposite number 25)

Pegasus Homes - the Victoria Convalescent Hospital as it stands today

The Arnos Vale Peace Garden

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El Corrido de Isadore Gonzalez

Buried in one of Bristol’s cemeteries lies an incongruous resident. Here, in the Mild Mild West, is the unlikely grave of a young Mexican cowboy, Isadore Gonzalez, tragically killed and laid to rest in the summer of 1903.  This is Isadore’s story; of how he came to be in Bristol, of his untimely death and how his last resting place was found again.

Ceremonies of the Horseman

It can be pretty hard these days to go down a genuinely untrodden path, an adventure of your own.  Tom Russell, the peerless cowboy folklorist and singer, handed mine to me on a plate.  His excellent essays for the Ranch and Reata magazine, collected in his book ‘Ceremonies of the Horseman’, are full of Russell’s own adventures into the lore of the old and new West (the Wild version, of course).  

Russell has spent years on the road in Europe, playing in every town, even marrying a Swiss along the way.  He is well placed then to essay on the influence of the West in Europe.  It is here that I first meet Isadore.  

A young Mexican vaquero (cowboy) in Buffalo Bill’s Wild West show, Isadore met his sad end during a performance of the show, though it seems few in the crowd realised what they had seen.  The incident is remembered in Charles Eldridge Griffin’s book ‘Four years on the road with Buffalo Bill’:

“The first fatal accident occurred at Bristol, July 23. Isadore Gonzalez, one of the Mexican riders, was thrown from his horse and instantly killed. He was buried at Bristol. It is just as well, perhaps, that the general public do not realize the danger that forever attends the participants of the Wild West performances. Every time they enter the arena, especially in the bucking horse act, they practically take their lives in their hands.”

Charles Eldridge Griffin, 1908

It is typical of Russell’s writing to have re-discovered this small, yet vivid historical moment.  Even more so perhaps to recognise the humanity of it.  I can’t pass up the challenge:

And where in Bristol might we find the grave of the Mexican Vaquero and roughrider, Isadore Gonzalez?  There should be a corrido written for him.

Tom Russell, 2016

The sad death of a vaquero - Bristol, July 1903

‘Buffalo Bill’ Cody was met with heavy rain as his Wild West show rolled into Bristol, July 1903.  For a performance built on incredible physical feats and conducted on show grounds and commons, this was surely a concern.  Bill, the business man, must have wondered if the weather would affect the crowds.  They had turned out in their tens of thousands in Wales the week before and indeed had done the last time it came to Bristol, years earlier.  Bill, the old horseman, on the other hand must have wondered if his cast would be able to hit the heights of performance for which they had become renowned.

The superstitions of Bill’s performers may well have been roused at the shows first outing of the tour, when Bill himself had fallen and injured his ankle.  A man of impressive energy and constitution, the show of course went on.  The crowds had once again turned out, the incident  put to the back of the minds of the performers and crew.  The crowds had certainly not been deterred in Bristol, despite the weather, with over 15,000 attending each night for a total of over 60,000 overall.

By the final night of the Bristol shows, Thursday 23rd July 1903, the ground condition was no doubt a danger.  The show had run four nights on an already sodden field,  a little way off the ancient Gloucester Road.   The less experienced performers must surely have been turning their minds to the next stop on tour and hopeful of a better end to the British summer.

During the ‘Emigrant Train’ performance, late on in the show, an accident befell one of the younger performers.  As the performance closed, Isadore Gonzalez, while riding slowly and seemingly with little risk, was thrown to the ground as his horse turned and was caught in the mud.  

Although Isadore was carried away by his colleagues, unconscious, it seems that the crowd either had not seen the incident or if they had they had assumed it was part of the act.  The show went on.

Backstage, Isadore was attended to by his colleagues and a doctor from the audience.  Although not travelling at speed, Isadore had fallen onto his head and his colleagues, all skilled and experienced horseman, would have feared the worst.  As Isadore lay unconscious, the doctor must also have realised the extent of the injury suffered and directed that Isadore be taken to the Bristol Infirmary.  Being young and no doubt very fit, Isadore fought on for much of the following day, eventually succumbing to his injury without ever regaining consciousness.

The patient was unusual and the circumstances of death uncommon; an inquest was as inevitable as it was quickly convened.  A verdict was reached before the show left town, stating that Isadore had died as a result of his fall.  Presumably someone had remained with him during his final hours to share the young riders details. 

He was 26 years old, from Monterrey, Mexico.

Finding Isadore

Britain has a remarkable wealth of historical archive papers, many of which have been digitised.  The General Register Office is the official archive of all things birth, marriage and death.  The records, I’m relieved to discover, extend long before July 1903 and, inevitably, there are few death certificates in the name of Gonzalez that year and only one registered in Bristol:

Aside from largely confirming Eldridge’s account (apart from his claim that Isadore was killed instantly) the death certificate provides some fascinating insight .  His tragically young age of 26, the confirmation that this brave young man had fought on long into the following day and that he hailed from Monterey (sic), Mexico.  That someone must have communicated these details give me hope that he had at least a friend nearby in his final hours, but this we will never know.  His name, at least, is recorded accurately.

I turn my attention to the newspaper records and again fortune is on my side.  There exists an incredible archive of fully digitised newspaper clippings from the period, all of which fully searchable within the actual text.  The show is well covered, both locally and farther afield, dismissing my initial fears that the death would not have been deemed newsworthy.  Perhaps the most compelling and complete is that carried by the Swindon Advertiser, a week later, 31st July 1903, below.

The report confirms and makes sense of the key details and inconsistencies of both Eldridge’s account and the death certificate.  Here we learn that Andrew Beltnap, another cast member, has spoken of Isadore, confirming his age and role. Perhaps it is Beltnap that had accompanied Isadore to the Bristol Infirmary and provided the information we later see on the Death Certificate.  

Another report, describing the accident as the ‘only hitch’ of the performance tells us a little more.  Isadore was performing in the ‘Emigrant Train’ section of the show when he fell, his horse apparently disturbed by the gun fire.  We also learn that the doctor’s name was Griffiths and he had attempted to save Isadore after his fall.  More on his story later.

Swindon Advertiser, 31st July 1903

Western Daily Press, 24th July 1903

I am conscious by now that I know much of the incident yet little of his final resting place, the challenge that started this whole effort.  After a frustrated search I stumble across the wonderful Bristol and Avon Family History Society.  A remarkable Memorial Index, populated by volunteers, offers an invaluable resource to those seeking their family histories.  A treasure trove of vital human experience and connectivity, we would surely be poorer without these local endeavours.  I wonder how many families they must have reconnected.

My initial instinct was that Isadore was likely Catholic, the predominant religion of Mexico to this day.  There is really only one Catholic cemetery of note in Bristol, the Holy Souls Catholic burial ground.  Searching the Memorial Index returns a hit for Gonzalez, 1903 and of course I am already sure that there was only one death of that name and period.

Isadore’s name is recorded incorrectly but I have little doubt that this must be him.  The Index records no other information but of course I am delighted with this breakthrough.  I make contact with the Index administrators in the hope they have a paper record that gives more detail.  In the meantime and knowing full well that it would be a needle in a haystack to find an actual gravestone, if one indeed exists at all, I spend a couple of hours scouring the graves.

Holy Souls is a crumbling mass of overgrown graves, silent chapel walls, memorials and dramatic statues.  The sky is full of rolling clouds and ominous looking corvids.  It’s difficult not to reflect on the human condition in such places, the desire to mark lives with supposedly everlasting stone monuments is hugely emotive.  In one moment I want to laugh at the futility of placing ‘permanent’ stone markets that are already destroyed by vegetation, the next I'm standing next to a child’s grave, adorned with toys and flowers and it makes perfect sense.

Holy Souls is a smaller, more austere cemetery in comparison to its Anglican neighbour, Arnos Vale, itself a huge, sprawling cemetery of decaying mausoleums and spectacular gravestones.  Holy Souls is far more austere, the flourishes all the more dramatic for that.

Of course I fail; many of the graves are illegible, either having succumbed to the weather or to the undergrowth.  I had fully expected this but it felt right to try all the same.  Taking some advice from a friend raised Catholic I light a candle for Isadore and am immediately saddened that I’m likely to be the first person to do so in over a hundred years.

By now I have come to feel an affection and familial protection for him.  The pervading feeling is sadness for this talented young man, buried so far from home.  Also of gratefulness that first Eldridge and then Russell had taken the time to record the incident.

Back home and feeling more determined to narrow the search, I make contact with the Clifton Diocese.  Their records are administered by a Reverend Harding and it is a colleague of his, Gill Hogarth that responds. Gill is wonderfully interested and shares my hopes to see Isadore properly remembered.  I get the impression that the Diocese is delighted to have provided a final resting place for its unique guest.  In a remarkable coincidence of human stories, Gill shares that Reverend Harding’s own father recalled the show to him as a child.  I learn that Gill herself is conducting research into the military graves at the site, something that must be incredibly emotive and rewarding.  

I am not a Catholic and have had little engagement with the Catholic community, but in this brief exchange I am touched by the sheer humanity of their warm response.  They are genuinely pleased to learn of their unlikely resident.  Wherever Isadore is buried in the Holy Souls cemetery it’s an unexpected relief to find that he’s in the care of such good people.

Gill promises to explore the Diocese archives for more detail.  A waiting game follows.  Inevitably busy lives and well hidden records require patience.  

Sadly, when the answer comes, it turns out that some of the Diocese records are damaged.  By coincidence they return their findings within an hour of the Memorial Index response, confirming some of the details already discovered and, tantalisingly, what appears to be a plot reference number, A63:

The Diocese confirm that this matches their records but that the reference means that Isadore lies in an unmarked, commoners grave.  These are located in the central “Peace Garden”, a circular area with no grave markers seen in the image below.  This makes good sense as every other inch of the cemetery is covered with larger grave markers and slabs.  

Accepting this as the likeliest truth I know deep down that this is as close as I can get.  I am pleased that I had taken the time to light a candle there in my first, aimless search and return once more to repeat the act.

See central, circular area in the below image - the location of the ‘common’ burials at Holy Souls Cemetery and the likely resting place of Isadore Gonzalez.

A picture of Isadore

The Buffalo Bill Centre of the West, in Cody, Wyoming, holds an incredible archive of photographs and news clippings of the show’s tour to Europe.  From the ships that carried the cast to articles concerning every last detail, of the logistics, it’s a gift to this story.  I share what I’ve learned with the Centre and am met with kind enthusiasm for my amateurish investigation.

I learn that Isadore was likely recruited by one of the shows leading stars, Vicente Oropeza.  Oropeza was one of Bill’s most trusted associates and longest serving cast members.  I suspect his rope skills would astonish us even today.  

Tantalisingly, the Centre also points me to images that we can be sure include Isadore.  This comes as a shock; I had not considered for a second that I might be able to see Isadore’s face.  The most compelling of the images they share is the all-cast line up photograph taken at the beginning of the tour.  Isadore is one of the gentleman in splendid sombreros to the right of centre (as you look at the image).  It is almost certainly impossible to identify which of these five men is Isadore, but all the same its an emotive image:

With thanks to the Buffalo Bill Centre of the West - original image link here

The image inspires me to cast the net a little wider, to the brilliant, highly recommended thesis of Pablo Rangel:  ‘Racialized Nationality: Mexicans, Vaqueros, and U.S. Nationalism in Buffalo Bill's Wild West’ (2013) (link here).  There is too much to even begin to parse in this short essay but Rangel’s work gives both a fascinating insight into the lives of the vaqueros as well as the experience of Mexicans in 19th and early 20th century America.  It’s hard not to reflect on today's news cycle.  

He and I exchange emails and I’m delighted to meet someone who clearly cares so much about the vaqueros.  He seems genuinely touched to learn of Isadore’s story and that someone has cared enough to find out more. He and I resolve to visit his grave together and I hope that one day we can.

Epilogue

The genuine warmth and will to help remember someone who died in relative obscurity, over 100 years ago is humbling.  From the Catholic community, to the Centre of the West, to Academics to cowboy singers.  

I hope yet still to make contact with Isadore’s ‘home’ Diocese in Monterrey, who I’m sure will remember him as he may have wished.  I hope to also show Tom Russell himself the graveyard and that the Corrido gets written.  I’d love to hear it.

And where next for this choose your own adventure?  It happens that Dr Griffiths, the man who stepped out of the crowd to help Isadore, has his own story worth telling.  He is buried somewhere in the adjacent Arnos Vale cemetery, close to the young man he tried to save all those years ago.

In the meantime Isadore is one of ours too; a son of Mexico, a son of Bristol.  A candle will be lit every 23rd July for this talented young man, who died such a long way from home.