D e s e r t E x p o s u r e
May
2009
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The Truth about |
This month's 60th annual fiesta celebrates the proudly quirky town's transformation from Hot Springs to Truth or Consequences.
Story and photos by Richard Mahler
Truth or Consequences is one of those small towns where residents identify places by what they used to be. Ask for directions and you may hear something like this: "Drive past the old Jewel-Osco until you get to the stoplight intersection that used to have that great Mexican restaurant, then keep going to the old post office, turn left and park at the Italian place where the grocery was before it became a video store."
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Ralph Edwards Park commemorates the
TV and radio host who sparked the town's name change in 1950. (Photo by Richard Mahler) |
On North Broadway, at Black Cat Books and Coffee, co-owner Rhonda Brittan remembers when her building was a drive-up liquor store: "That was back when you didn't have to be sober enough to stand up in order to buy a six-pack." Before that time, the structure housed variously a cafe and a sporting-goods store. "The building is pretty old," says Brittan, who has operated the Black Cat with her husband, Jay Ellerbroek, since 2001.
Here you can guess a person's age and years of residency by what they recall.
If you once called it "Hot Springs," for example, you're in the senior citizen category. The Sierra County seat, built a few feet above a hot-water aquifer beside the Rio Grande, began its metamorphosis into "Truth or Consequences" during the autumn of 1949. A formal citywide vote sealed the deal on March 31, 1950. Three subsequent times the town has considered abandoning the name — each time a majority voted to keep it. But where did the oddball moniker originate?
If you don't recollect a radio and TV program called "Truth or Consequences," you're probably under 30. The final, low-rated iteration of the long-running game show signed off in 1988, but millions tuned in back in November 1949 as host Ralph Edwards revealed that the NBC Radio Network program was eager to reward a city gutsy enough to formally switch its name to Truth or Consequences. (The three-word term referred to the gag "consequences" that befell contestants who evaded the "truth" under good-natured questioning by Edwards.)
Terms were straightforward. In return for full cooperation, a 10th anniversary show would be broadcast live on national TV and radio from the selected town and a horde of reporters would swarm in for the occasion. The underlying motive of this unabashed publicity stunt was to lavish media coverage on program and place. Civic leaders were convinced that a rechristening would distinguish their dusty burg from competing "Hot Springs" municipalities in Arkansas, South Dakota and at least four other states. (Early settlers first referred to our Hot Springs poetically as Las Palomas de Ojo Caliente, or The Doves of the Hot Spring.)
"Like the show," noted its emcee, "the [New Mexico] city had the inclination and the place for recreation and the desire and means of helping one's fellow man." Edwards noted the half-dozen health-oriented spas located in the town's center, the orthopedic hospital on its outskirts, and impressive fishing and boating opportunities on the nearby Rio Grande and Elephant Butte Lake.
The town got a rowdy start with the 1911-1916 construction of Elephant Butte Dam and quickly became infamous for its plentiful saloons and brothels. Things settled down by mid-century as Hot Springs evolved into a friendly, inexpensive and family-oriented town, largely overlooked due to its ho-hum name and remote location between Albuquerque and El Paso. Members of the local chamber of commerce were itching for a boost and willing to poke fun at themselves. The unpretentiousness of Hot Springs appealed to Edwards, a down-home kind of guy who eschewed Hollywood's glitz and glamour.
"Many people assumed [the name change] was a practical joke," according to a town website, "because it went into effect on April 1." On that day in 1950 the program host, his wife, entourage and press corps first arrived in town. (April 1 continues to be commemorated officially within the city limits as Ralph Edwards Day.) Edwards, who died in November 2005, retained great fondness for the town, serving often as parade marshal and bringing along such celebrities as pin-up queen Jayne Mansfield, "M*A*S*H" actor Jamie Farr and "Gilligan's Island" star Bob Denver. One year he showed up with an elephant. Edwards also helped underwrite community celebrations and made generous donations to local charities. If not for West Coast commitments, he might have moved here.
"This community has retained its friendly, quirky character," believes the Black Cat's Brittan, "and [residents] seem to be appreciating our unique art and historic architecture a lot more these days. We always seem to be just about to pop [in terms of tourism], but it never quite happens."
But its christening as Truth or Consequences did put the sleepy little resort town on the map for a while, at least as a topic of water-cooler conversation. One long-time resident, artist Delmas Howe, has compared his life here as akin to living on the Galapagos Islands, which attracts curiosity seekers amazed to find that such a non-conforming place exists.
Each May, residents celebrate their good fortune. An annual Fiesta was launched in the spring of 1950 by Edwards and attended faithfully by him for 50 consecutive years. It has grown to include a downtown parade, golf tournament, rodeo, carnival, celebratory dinner, Miss Fiesta competition, old-fashion fiddlers' contest, dunk tank, art show and other activities attended by thousands. This year's 60th annual Fiesta (see box) incorporates a "Flashback to the Sixties" theme and features a karaoke sing-off along with the usual fun and games. This reporter's perennial favorite event is the Junk Boat Race, a competition on the Rio Grande between vessels cobbled from homemade or recycled materials — pipes, Styrofoam, beer cans and the like — but absolutely no conventional boat parts, screws or nails. Paddling must be done with arms or oars; nothing mechanical is allowed.
The popular-culture connection seems to be accepted good-naturedly by most of the 8,000 or so residents of "T or C," as locals affectionately refer to their idiosyncratic town. Obviously, a funny name isn't enough to keep people coming — or staying. Thus, the incentives seem to be shifting.
"We first read about Truth or Consequences in John Villani's 100 Best Small Art Towns in America," recalls Brittan, a blithe spirit who spent 1997 with her husband "circumnavigating the US. The town sounded interesting, so we took a look." The couple parked their vintage, 16-foot Airstream trailer and stayed a while.
"T or C was really cute and affordable," says Brittan. "It was burbling and alive. We liked it." She and her husband returned to their home in Port Townsend, Wash., but eventually moved into the back of the downtown building that they gradually converted into a combination used-book store, coffee shop and community gathering space.
"I'd never run a bookstore or a coffee shop, but I like books and love reading," Brittan explains. Before decamping from Washington, she learned the ropes of bookselling and accounting, while Ellerbroek mastered the art of roasting organic coffee. In 2001 they opened their T or C business, at first closing it for four months during the slow summer season. (Since 2004 the Black Cat has been open year-round, Friday through Monday, from 8 a.m. to 5 p.m.) A far cry from the streamlined B. Dalton's Bookseller environment Brittan cut her teeth in, the place fits the T or C mold perfectly: It feels as comfortable as an old pair of slippers, as welcoming as a good friend, and as serendipitous as a meandering trail.
"When we started," says Brittan, "almost nothing was open on weekends. I enjoyed having a place to read and to drink coffee. It turned out other people did, too." The couple considers the venue, with its informal ambience, as a place that invites lingering, laughter and conversation, yet is neither "home nor work. Instead, it's a 'third' kind of meeting place," muses Brittan. "I really think it provides a level playing field for everybody. We get a pretty good mix of the [local] population through our front door."
Brittan confirms that T or C is enjoying a slow but steady reincarnation once again — this time as a diverse but modest-minded art town. There are a growing number of galleries along Main, Broadway and associated downtown side streets, plus a sprinkling of attractive restaurants and upscale spas. Yet the mood remains decidedly retro. Eighteen months ago, a writer concluded in Vanity Fair magazine that "few [places] are so compellingly kooky as Truth or Consequences." As "the latest influential art enclave," Edward Helmore wrote of the town, it is "on the edge in almost every respect." The people who live there, he noted, have a vision all their own.