Читать книгу Ringside Seat to a Revolution - David Dorado Romo - Страница 49

her family packed all their belongings and boarded a

train at the Southern Pacific depot where several hun-

dred El Paso Mexicans gathered to bid her farewell.

The El Paso Times described the frenzied scene

at her departure on June 11, 1897:

She drove up to the depot in a carriage

accompanied by an armed escort, her father,

whose belt fairly glittered with cartridges,

her brother, who walked behind her with a

Winchester in his hands ready for action, and

a third man wearing a belt of cartridges and

with the butt of a gun protruding from the

scarf around his waist.

Santa Teresa was dressed in pure white.

Hundreds made frantic efforts to reach her

side. In the crowd that swarmed around

Teresa were a number of elegantly dressed

and aristocratic looking Mexican women,

who pressed close around the young saint-

ess, exhibiting for her great fondness.

The crowd strived to attract the atten-

tion of Santa Teresa. They kissed her hands,

kissed her veil and pressed to their lips the

hems of her white shawl. And that wonder-

ful, untutored girl of nineteen summers (sic)

received all of this homage with the grace

and dignity of a queen. She smiled continu-

ously on those around her and had a kind

word for each one who pressed her hand to

their lips.

One woman explained her devotion to

Teresa. “She nursed my children day and

night when I was sick and she divided what

she had to eat with all of us. I have seen her

tired and hungry with no beans or meat in

the house, but she never complained and

always gave us the same sweet smile. That is

why I would give my life for her.”

After she entered the car mothers would

lift their babies up to the window for Santa

Teresa to lay her pretty hands on their head.

The young saintess shook hands from the

car window until she was so fatigued that

she had to lower the window to get rid of

further exercise in that line and waved the

crowd away with her hand and with that

gentle smile they could not resist.¹⁰²

Before departing, Teresita urged the crowd not to

lose faith, “I am leaving El Paso but I hope to come

back here some day.”

44

Page 45: The Ornithopter—which Ochoa also called

the New Jersey Devil—had a propeller in the front

rather than the back like most of the other flying

machines at the time, 1909. (Victor Ochoa Papers,

Archives Center, National Museum of American

History, Behring Center, Smithsonian Institution.)

102

El Paso Times, June 12, 1897.