Texas Architect

Commentary

‘Cleansing’ History in Santa Fe

Demolition of Indian School structures, said to heal wounds, raises many questions

Driving down Cerrillos Road in Santa Fe one morning last summer while looking for a place to eat, I noticed a number of partially and fully demolished buildings edging the campus of the Santa Fe Indian School. It was a work in progress, a startling sight of splintered lumber, mangled masonry walls, some still stubbornly standing, and exposed interiors. I was somewhat familiar with the buildings, but only in passing. Now I wanted to remember what was gone.

After being seated for breakfast, I picked up a daily Santa Fe New Mexican and began to read about the demolition. It was front-page news. Three related articles highlighted the historic nature of the buildings being razed, the cultural signifi cance of the school’s past, and questions surrounding asbestos abatement. Together they told a complex story about several intertwined topics—historic architecture being removed without expected considerations and public notification, forced assimilation of Native American children in the early years of the boarding school, recent sovereignty of the region’s pueblos, and the actions taken by the Indian School’s leaders determined to move forward from the past.

At the time of my visit, 15 buildings had been either partially or fully demolished, with three others slated for demolition. (One was the original administration building, shown below, built in 1890.) These campus structures dated between 1890 and 1933, and some had been renovated by John Gaw Meem, the influential local architect instrumental in developing the popular regional style known as Pueblo Revival. The initial demolition occurred quickly, stirring an outcry from some residents of Santa Fe and preservationists who were not only frustrated by the sudden loss of buildings but also by the lack of opportunity to document these historic structures. According to news reports, murals by Native American artists such as Allan Houser were buried in the rubble. One editorial written by a former Indian School staff member noted that even tribal alumni were “deeply saddened” by the destruction.

Yet there is more to this story in which age-old cultural wounds interweave with the newly claimed sovereignty of the All Indian Pueblo Council that manages the school property and represents 19 pueblos. In 2000, the U.S. Congress mandated the property be held in trust for the All Indian Pueblo Council, creating a self-governing entity where state and local laws do not apply. Although challenged by the state’s historic preservation director in an eff ort to prevent further demolitions, the Council’s authority to act without permits or approvals appears to remain intact.

While many people outside the campus were angered, one pueblo governor was quoted as describing the demolition as a “spiritual cleansing” intended to amend injustices infl icted on Native American children. In the early days of the Indian School, children were routinely relocated from their homes to the campus where girls were trained to work as maids for local families and boys were sent to work in factories or to harvest crops. School administrators and the All Indian Pueblo Council off ered little response on the decisions made, other than state, “After completing various assessments over the past 5 years, the Santa Fe Indian School exercised its sovereign authority and due diligence to take action by demolishing buildings to remove imminent health, safety, and security threats to protect the students and staff of SFIS, including the general public.” (The term “threats” presumably alluded to asbestos contained in materials used in construction.)

As the All Indian Pueblo Council declined to further discuss its actions with the public, speculation arose over the plans for the newly cleared campus land. One local reporter cited evidence pointing to the possibility that a mixed-use retail center, including a hotel and underground parking, may be built on the site. Such potential for commercial development raises questions about the true motivations for the demolition work. Commercial development also would create a greater complexity of issues involving urban land use, community cooperation, and legal authority.

This story, shaped by actions within and around historic buildings, is unique in its detail of the past and debatable handling of power and responsibility. However, it is not an isolated incident of loss in the name of progress. The meaning of a structure or place evolves. For some, a historic site may represent the need for change while others may see that site as history worth preserving. That same site may also provoke haunting memories for another group. However, even if architecture is deemed too painful to keep because of the history it embodies, or even if it is economically unfeasible to maintain or not adaptable to functional needs, then there should at least be recognition of its role in history. There should be an opportunity to document those structures so they will not be forgotten. This unfortunately was not the case with the historic buildings of the Santa Fe Indian School: they apparently are lost to history except for a few random photographs.

A more clear preservation of the past might have been accomplished by repurposing them as interpretive centers to educate future generations of a troubling era in American history. Paired with newer campus buildings, the historic structures could have illustrated the triumph of the school through its evolving from a facility created for the assimilation of Indian children into a “white” America to one of learning environments that embrace students with their native culture while they live away from their reservation homes.

This story underscores the fact that the endurance of architecture, however well designed and crafted, is subject to forces of politics, religion, and economics. Last summer’s irrevocable destruction of significant pieces of Santa Fe’s historic fabric reminds us that social and economic priorities, cultural sensitivities, and individuals’ emotions can be more powerful and persuasive than any building. Erasing the past may offer cleansing for some, but others may see only a void.

I want to remember what was there.

--Thomas Hayne Upchurch , AIA, is principal of Upchurch Architects in Brenham.