Reprint Rocky Point Times Newspaper 1990.
During the twenties, along the Mexican/American border emerged an infinity of entertainment centers, operating legally or illegally, where North Americans went to dance, drink, and even to gamble, or simply to have fun in the casinos that sprouted up due to prohibition in the United States. This way, they operated the “Americana Club” and the “Cactus Club” in the border town of Sonoyta, Sonora, where they could get more than liquor and games. They also promoted hunting excursions into the Pinacate, San Francisco, and the Cubai Mountains.
John L. Stone and Sofus Jansen planned the construction of another club, disregarding the desolate miles of surrounding landscape. With the help of Rafael Vega from Sonoyta, and the flowing banks of the Sonoyta River, they traced a crossing to the Batamote area. From there, they got deep into the sandy grounds, and they got stuck again and again, only advancing inch by inch. When they were about to give up, they found themselves in front of the sea, a place now called Rocky Point.
They located in various places trying to find drinkable water. Finally, they found it 18 kilometers from the coast. Rafael Vega brought materials from the United States and hired laborers to begin construction of the “Marine Club” in front of the Gulf of California.
They used stones to build walls and installed roulette tables, card games, and ice. Very near, they constructed a huge water storage. They improved a landing strip for airplanes of the newborn airline “Scenic Airlines”. They had two boats: the Scania Pacific and another that wasn’t registered, but later the fisherman baptized it with the name of “El Blanca”, which was used to bring rum and whiskey from Guaymas, Sonora. At night, the music of the pianola traveled on the breeze carrying the contagious music of Jazz, Quick Step, and Fox Trot, music that was rage in the U.S.A.
Rosalia Palacio, who arrived in 1928, remembers, “This side of the Batamote was desolate; the dunes, the sandy grounds, the tracks disappeared in the wind, the sandstorms hurt our faces, arms, and legs as mosquitoes bit us. Our car got stuck, and we all got out and pushed for 20 kilometers. Before we got there, we got stuck in front of a huge dune. The wind buzzed thick with branches and sand. Nothing could stop it. We dug and inserted copper-plate sheets and bushes under the tire until we advanced ahead to another dune that stopped us. Tulita, Melaviditos, and I got to the tiptop of the dune to see, but we only saw loneliness in front of a gray uninhabited desert of mesquites and cactus. There were only small, sad shrubs stuck to the sand as if they wanted to hide from the terrible wind of the desert. When we arrived to the port, we found a hotel of stone, and a gringo came out, who we later learned was John Stone. Mr. Stone told us to get out of there, that we were on private property that he owned. We searched for the best place, and it was a sand point we called “La Lergueta”. It was where the Naval Base is now located. That was in September or October of 1928. A month later, Mrs. Concha and her husband, Guillermo Ortega, arrived from Quitovaquita. Mr. Tom Childs brought them so they could take care of the Papago’s. Emeterio and Gregorio were the chauffeurs to Mr. Childs, who hired my Melquiades Palacios and my uncle Nachito Ruiz. They arrived by sea, and the crew members were Julian and Martin Angullo. Guillermo Ortega and his wife’s daughter came, a cute little girl named Herminia, but all of us called her “Chiquita Ortega”. Later, Victor and Juan La Font arrived.
I worked sometime in the hotel. I didn’t really like it. I helped in the kitchen. There was a señorita from Sonoyta and two other American women who attended to the clients. There also were two Americans that helped Stone. Rafael Vega was the one who took care of the hotel during the summer.
The other American, Thomas Childs, who hired the first fisherman, lived in Quitovaquita, Arizona, and married a Papago/Arenenan Indian. Tom made trips to Adahir Bay with his brothers, relatives, and wife. There he learned about the immense quantity of the Totoaba fish that swam in the estuaries of the mentioned bay.
When Domingo Quiroz was asked about the stone hotel, he said, “it belonged to Al Capone, and the gringo Stone built it. Of the Marine Club, nothing exists anymore. Don’t believe that it was just a hotel. There was a gorgeous bar, the most elegant there could be, with mahogany wood finished, high ceilings, and fans. There was a gas station for cars and one for airplanes, also an electricity plant, a very protected place”.
Every day, more fishermen would arrive at the sandpoint. They would go to the foot of the mountain, living in the caves and tents, or simply would cover themselves with the sails of their boats to protect themselves from the breeze. They would go to the Marine Club when they wanted music and liquor. This bothered Stone, who took his shotgun and threatened to shoot. This didn’t scare the fish buyer, Benjamin Bustamante, who turned him in to the authorities at Caborca, Sonora. They sent an inspector to investigate the accusations. At the end of 1931, tired of it all, John Stone set fire to the hotel and dynamited the only water well. For a while, the truck drivers provided water, “the vital liquid”. Every trip, they bought a tank of 200 liters. German Valenzuela nostalgically remembers, “The most precious thing was the water. We could only get a tank of 18 liters per group, but it wasn’t enough. At night, we looked at the glimmer of the truck lights. The dawn would come, and we would be waiting with our can. Often, the trucks would be stuck. The light would fade. We wouldn’t sleep for fear we would miss the water”.
Alfredo Borboa recalls that his father taught him how to make sweet water. The problem was that there wasn’t firewood to boil with. Then I remembered that my dad had told me, and I picked some Totoaba fish heads and brought some bushes that grew up on the hill. The sticky bushes helped the fire to grow and burn the heads. I would put a can with seawater and a copper coiled tube, and drop by drop I would fill three or four cans – a very slow system. The Totoaba heads consumed rapidly.
They used distilled iced water that was brought by the truck to do their wash. That was the way they kept on living.
In the summer of 1936, when everyone was together at midday, when lizards don’t move and the flies aren’t strong enough to fly, an official appeared in one of the cars under the command of General Lazaro Cardenas.
The General saw the sad scene, men and women who looked as if they were living on a desert island, with long beards and hair, almost without clothes. His eyes watered with sorrow, and he asked, “What type of mud are you all made of?” The official drove to the top of the mountain, and from there Cardenas planned what a huge harbor it could be. There, merchant ships would arrive, a railway, and a highway to export and import products to the United States.
“What did you say was the name of this place?” he asked. “Rocky Point is something like punta said Ramon Villa. “Better yet, Punta Peñascosa” replied Benjamin Bustamante. “Well, as of today, it will be Punta Peñasco”, said Lazaro Cardenas. “Anyway, we are in Mexico”.
With time, Rocky Point came to be Puerto Punta Peñasco and later simply, Puerto Peñasco. The rest is now history.
