“The Shrine of Chino Mine: Extraction Rhetoric and Public Memory in Southern New Mexico”

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About the Author

Kelli Lycke Martin is a graduate teaching instructor and PhD candidate at the University of Arizona. She wrote this article during the last year of her master’s program in Rhetoric and Writing at The University of New Mexico. Her research interests include cultural memory sites and historical discourse rhetorics of labor, resistance & protest.

Contents

Introduction

The Shrine

The Injury of Extraction

Shrines and Memorials

Memory of Santa Rita

The Future of Santa Rita

Works Cited

Memory of Santa Rita

With such a strong sense of community, Santa Ritans more often make what Rice calls memory claims, which allow them to see themselves as having a deliberative relationship with one another—one centered around the idea of recognizing an ever-existing home. The results of Steinberg’s survey conclude that Santa Ritans still feel a strong connection to one another through their understanding of Santa Rita as home. Interview excerpts from Steinberg’s study reveal the intense sense of community they feel twenty-six years after the destruction of their home. One respondent remarks, “our whole existence was contained in a small area, and to us it was home” (14). Another respondent explains,

Santa Rita is HOME. Because it was destroyed as a community and yet still there does make the memories even more special and its history unique [sic] . . . Santa Rita’s destroyer is from the source that supported the families, educated the children, built our churches, supplied our recreation, took care of our health and birthed our new citizen and buried our dead. As years passed, the economies, culture, and politics greatly changed our lives, but we have stayed special and close. My death plans are written and paid for and my family is in agreement, and it gives me comfort to know my ashes will be scattered in Santa Rita. Yes, I am still an active member of the Santa Rita community. (14)

In fact, nearly all of the comments about the community center around the idea of home. Memory claims and narratives about a lost space allow the community to create a different place altogether—one that is emotional as much as it is physical.

While injury of Santa Rita became the public discourse that brought community together in non-place (Rice 82), the Shrine is material public discourse that brings the community together in the physical space. The Santa Rita Shrine is now the gathering place for the community. Every year since its commemoration, Santa Ritans have come from all around the Southwest for a special Catholic Mass and feast held at the Shrine on March 22 (“The Shrine of Santa Rita”). Festivities of the celebration include trimming the foliage around the Shrine and cleaning up other commemorative sites special to the district. They also pitch washers and horseshoes in the nearby park (Siegfried 1-2). The tradition of Santa Rita Day is celebrated worldwide on March 22 to honor the saint on the anniversary of her death. But here in Grant County, it offers another special significance. It was once the town's biggest celebration, and Santa Ritans refused to end the tradition even after Kennecott squandered the town out of existence. Siegfried’s article “Neighborhood thrived in Santa Rita community” from the Silver City Daily Press expresses the importance of Santa Rita days by pulling from lost oral histories. He records Terry Humble explaining that Santa Rita days are “like a family reunion. Everybody takes it for granted that the place where you grew up is always going to be there. If the town were still there, there probably wouldn’t be as strong a bond between the people born and raised there” (2). These traditions are proof of the living memory of the town, and the Shrine gives the community a physical space for celebration of their culture and accomplishments.