Santa Fe Stone, Part 3: The Tetragrammaton

Before leaving Santa Fe to address some cool stone I found in Albuquerque, I want to focus on an odd aspect of Santa Fe’s Cathedral. Carved into a triangle in the keystone of the entrance arch is a Tetragrammaton, or the Hebrew word for God. No one knows exactly why or who carved the four letters (Yod, He, Waw and He, or YHWH, pronounced Yahweh), which may be why so many stories have arisen around the inscription.

(The best single source is Floyd S. Fierman’s article The Triangle and the Tetragrammaton, which appeared in several forms. The one I consulted was from the New Mexico Historical Quarterly, v. 37, n.4, pg. 310-323, 1962.)

Many of the stories revolve around Bishop Lamy’s relationship with the Jewish community in Santa Fe, in particular with Abraham Staab. Born in Germany in 1839, Staab had emigrated in 1854, eventually arriving in Santa Fe around 1857, where he established a trading and merchandising operation throughout the southwest. By the 1870s he was a prominent businessman and in the position to lend Lamy money for the Cathedral.

Fierman wrote that the most detailed account of Staab's connection to the symbol is from William Keleher’s The Fabulous Frontier. Keleher described how Staab had lent Lamy money for the Cathedral construction and how Staab said he would absolve all debts if he could chisel one word into the building’s entrance. Of course that word was Yahweh.

Keleher wrote that the source for his version was Staab’s son-in-law, who claimed that Staab had told this story on many occasions. In contrast, Fierman notes that Staab’s son Edward “avers under no circumstances” was there a trade of money for said carving. His father did destroy the notes, however, but “he did not bargain with the highest religious officer of the diocese.”

Continuing to seek out a reason for the symbol, Fierman wrote to Fray Angelico Chavez of the Cathedral, who had done extensive research into the history of the building. Chavez responded that the placement of the Tetragrammaton in a triangle was a common Christian symbol in Europe. It represented the holy trinity and was most likely something Lamy had seen in his youth in France. Chavez concluded “It also could be, once the emblem was carved, that these Jewish friends, totally ignorant of the triangle’s meaning, were actually pleased and did consider it a friendly gesture by Lamy! Which is all to good in this world of strife and misunderstanding among peoples.”

Santa Fe Stone, Part 2: The Cathedral

Santa Fe’s wonderful Cathedral Basilica of St. Francis of Assisi is far better known than the Courthouse. Work on it began in 1869, under direction of Bishop Jean Baptiste Lamy, made famous by Willa Cather in Death Comes for the Archbishop. Lamy laid the cornerstone on Sunday, October 10, 1869 but the following week some “heathen with infamous hands” stole it, along with its contents, including gold, silver, and copper coins and a list of donors. Perhaps the theft was a sign because problems plagued the Cathedral throughout its construction.

A French architect and stone cutter, Antoine Mouly, prepared the original drawings for the church from plans made by Lamy and an assistant. The building would be Romanesque in style, 200 feet long by 115 feet wide, with an 85-foot-high dome, and two towers, soaring a hundred feet tall. And it was to be built around an adobe church. Work proceeded slowly, depending on money, a problem that also led to a gradual reduction of Lamy’s grandiose plans. Mouly supervised construction until he returned to France in 1874, because of fading eyesight. He left his son, Projectus (what a great name) in charge, but little work took place for several years and he quit in 1878.

Another French architect, Francois Mallet, came over to aid the project. He made new plans, which would involve 75-foot spires topping the two towers, but apparently did not devote all his energy to design work. Instead, Mallet was putting the moves on the wife of Bishop Lamy’s nephew. The younger Lamy shot and killed Mallet on September 1, 1879. A judge found him not guilty for reasons of insanity.

Lamy also hired French and Italian stone masons to work on his Cathedral. By 1880, the new walls had risen high enough to hide the old adobe church. Late the next year, the workers installed the beautiful circular window, cut by Vicente Digneo, Cajetano Palladino, and Michael Machebeuf (Again, I had to list there names because they are so splendid.). Money issues still delayed construction. Lamy died in 1888, seven years before the official Cathedral dedication. Mallet’s spires have never been built.

But back to geology. I have been surprised by how hard it has been to track down information on the stone. Most sources report that some material came from property owned by Bishop Lamy about 17 miles south of Santa Fe (the area is now called Lamy). Said sources disagree as to whether said stone is limestone, sandstone, or granite. The New Mexico Bureau of Geology and Mineral Resources geology map of the Galisteo quadrangle, however, indicates a sandstone quarry on Cerro Colorado, a hill rising above Lamy, in a unit known as the Diamond Trail Formation. It has been dated as early Tertiary.

Most writers agree that a “red volcanic lava, exceedingly light” was quarried from a small mound 12 miles west of Santa Fe, known as Cerro Mogino (of which I could find no information). (One modern writer, however, referred to the stone as “volcanic tuft,” which sounds a bit like a hoodoo.) Rock, said to be an “ochreous limestone for the exterior” also came from within Santa Fe, in the Arroyo Sais.

Willa Cather also wrote about the stone. In her colorful prose, Lamy in the guise of Bishop Latour, said “It is the stone I have always wanted, and I found it quite by chance…This hill is only about fifteen miles from Santa Fe; there is an upgrade, but it is gradual. Hauling stone will be easier than I could have hoped for.” She further described the stone as “a strong golden ochre, very much like the gold of the sunlight” and “melted gold—a color that throbbed in the last rays of the sun.”

In a concluding section Cather has Bishop Latour say “Yes…that rock will do very well…Every time I come here, I like this stone better…I would rather have found that hill of yellow than have come into a fortune to spend in charity. The Cathedral is very near my heart, for many reasons.” Perhaps not the most benevolent words a bishop could utter but as many of us know stone can lead to a religious experience.

Stone in Santa Fe: Part 1

Although Santa Fe is known for its signature stucco architecture, the diligent stone seeker can find rock-clad buildings. Two buildings stand out: the Santiago E. Campos United States Courthouse and the Cathedral Basilica of St. Francis of Assisi. Both use local stone and both are quite handsome structures. I will focus on the Courthouse today and follow up later this week on the Cathedral, which will require two reports.

Construction on the Courthouse began in 1853 and on what was intended to become the territorial capitol. Initial plans called for “lime stone” though a letter written in 1853 by the Commissioners of Public Lands, noted “No building of like description or of like materials has ever been attempted here…[Yet] in May last when the Commissioners desired to commence the Masonry of the building not a single Stone Mason could be found in the Territory.” This dearth of qualified local masons led to the contractor “borrowing” soldiers from the US military, who did have experience with stone.

Like many other public structures around the United States in middle 1800s, the Courthouse is classic Greek Revival style. The rough cut limestone was quarried in the Sangre de Cristos mountains, about eight miles from Santa Fe, in what is now Hyde Memorial State Park. Quoins and lintels came from Cerrillos, about 20 miles southwest of Santa Fe. Wagons and pack animals provided the only means of transporting the stone. A lack of money and masons, as well as the advent of the Civil War, eventually conspired to halt construction.

Santa Fe’s Tertio-Millennial Celebration in 1883, which commemorated the city’s founding 333 years earlier, did lead to a temporary roof but further construction did not begin in earnest again until 1888. By this time competent masons had moved to Santa Fe and they finished the courthouse the following year. The building, however, never served its original purpose as a state house.

To reach the Courthouse, head north out of the Plaza on Lincoln Ave, which dead ends at the building. You can also see an addition, tacked on in 1929-1930. More information can be found in the following paper, which provided many of the details I used.

Two Fine Books of Science

As we enter the critical book buying season (hint-hint), I would like to recommend two recent books. Both focus on science and even better perfectly complement each other. They would make a nice pair of presents for anyone interested in understanding science and the passions that drive scientists. The books are Darwin’s Armada: Four Voyages and the Battle for the Theory of Evolution by Iain McCalman and The Age of Wonder: How the Romantic Generation Discovered the Beauty and Terror of Science by Richard Holmes. Holmes’ book came out in 2008 and McCalman’s in 2009.

Dense, yet readable, Age of Wonder focuses on what Holmes calls the second scientific revolution, inspired by novel developments in astronomy and chemistry. (The first revolution centered around Newton.) Holmes book ends his period around two legendary voyages: James Cooks’ round-the-world expedition started in 1768 and Charles Darwin’s voyage in the HMS Beagle, which ended in 1836. It was a period of brilliant insights, dangerous experimentation with electricity and nasty chemicals, and lone scientists devoted to pushing the frontiers of their subjects.

Holmes does an excellent job of detailing the lives of his vast cast of characters, which ranges from chemist Humphry Davy to astronomer William Herschel to novelist Mary Shelley to explorer Mungo Park (what a cool name to have!). In presenting Herschel and his work, Holmes clearly shows how Herschel, the man who found Uranus (the first planet discovered in more than 1,000 years), couldn’t have succeeded without his equally talented sister Caroline. Davy also stands out for his work with laughing gas, development of a safe, underground mining lamp, and popular lectures on science, which drew hundreds. In addition, Holmes interfingers the science with poetry through the work of Samuel Coleridge and William Wordsworth.

Coincidentally, Darwin’s Armada picks up exactly where Age of Wonder stops. McCalman details the formative voyages and expeditions of Darwin, botanist Joseph Hooker, Thomas Huxley, and Alfred Russell Wallace. Less dense and a bit lighter in tone, Armada shows how their work in the southern hemisphere shaped each man’s understanding of science and the natural world and in turn led them down the paths to insights into evolution. And once on those paths, these four men were the prime movers in discussing, debating, and fleshing out natural selection. McCalman also shows how the four became deep friends who helped each other through scientific, family, and financial challenges.

In reading each of these books, I was constantly amazed to see the excitement of new discoveries but also the dangers of working with new materials and visiting wild places. It is a wonder at times that any of the great scientists discussed here didn’t die young. We are fortunate they didn’t and fortunate that they come to life in the pages of these two fine books.