Chokecherry massacre, protests shocked Farmington 50 years ago – The Tri-City Record

Activists and residents plan march on September 21

Fifty years ago, in April 1974, three Navajo men were murdered by three Farmington teenagers in the Chokecherry Canyon area near Farmington. The murders, along with the protests and demonstrations that followed, drew national attention and prompted a federal response.

Local activists have organized a memorial march and rally in downtown Farmington on Sept. 21, culminating in a rally at the Totah Theatre, 315 W. Main St.

Duane “Chili” Yazzie, who participated in protest marches 50 years ago, along with others, met with Farmington Mayor Nate Duckett on Wednesday to ask for the city’s support and cooperation.

In the introduction to his 1992 book, “The Broken Circle: A True Story of Murder and Magic in Indian Country,” Rodney Barker, who was a resident of Durango at the time, describes the riot that broke out when the sheriff’s posse parade was protested by Navajos and a riot broke out. Barker and more than 50 others were arrested.

“The fact that a community that was rocked by racial violence a half-century ago continues to struggle — or is that the word struggle? — to confront a shameful episode in its past says something positive about Farmington,” Barker said in an email.

Racial, cultural, socioeconomic and legal factors created a fractured community. Some agreed that Native Americans were treated unfairly, while others, many of whom had migrated to the area to make quick money in the oil and gas industry, saw things differently.

Murders and protest demonstrations

An in-depth investigation of the historical events was detailed in “Broken Circle.”

Barker was in Farmington during protest marches organized by the Navajo Liberation Coalition. The Navajos protesting the Sheriff’s Posse parade wore traditional U.S. Cavalry uniforms, the same ones worn by soldiers during the Long Walk when the Diné were displaced from their ancestral lands.

When the Navajos blocked the sheriff’s mounted troop, the situation escalated into violence and the disturbance turned into a riot. Farmington police, wearing gas masks, used tear gas and began arresting people.

The Navajo Liberation Coalition, formed by Wilbert Tsosie, was targeted by Farmington Mayor Marlo Webb, who accused them of stirring up trouble and not truly representing the Navajo people.

Tsosie believed the marches demonstrated their purpose, which was to show sympathy and respect for the victims’ families and to call for justice, Barker wrote.

“He wanted to shake the sensibilities of Mr. and Mrs. Farmington. He wanted to awaken the white community and make them understand that they could no longer count on the passive acquiescence of the Indians,” Barker wrote.

The protests received support from the American Indian Movement, and local commander Larry Anderson mobilized his members to provide security for six weekends of marches in Farmington.

Anderson had pledged his support for the AIM, saying he had been in contact with its leaders, Russell Means and Dennis Banks. At the second march, AIM National President John Trudell showed up.

Trudell, who had played an active role in the Alcatraz takeover, increased the level of concern among Webb and the business community.

“And these were the ones we were most afraid of…they had violent backgrounds,” Webb said in Barker’s book.

It took nearly a year for the 188-page report prepared by the New Mexico Advisory Committee to the U.S. Commission on Civil Rights to be released. Entitled “The Farmington Report: A Clash of Cultures,” there was no doubt that the verdict was one of discrimination against Native Americans.

“During the year, a number of lawsuits were filed by the Justice Department charging the county and city with continuing discriminatory policies and practices against Indians, and ordering them to cease those practices and take immediate steps to correct the ongoing effects of past discriminatory policies,” Barker wrote.

The report and its orders were met with disdain and disgust by Webb, who called it “a collection of half-truths, innuendos, out-of-context statements, lies and unrealistic and illogical conclusions,” Barker wrote.

Committee Chairman Sterling F. Black said, “There appears to be little awareness among the general public and elected officials of complex social and economic issues,” Barker wrote.

Conviction of convicted adolescents

The teenagers, Jesse Howard Bender (Vernon Crawford in Barker’s book) and Del Ballinger (Oren Thacker), both 16, and Matthew Clark (Peter Burke), 15, confessed to the horrific crimes committed over consecutive weekends in Farmington, a border town on the Navajo reservation. All three were students at Farmington High School.

Robbing and ransacking drunken Navajos was a common pastime among some Farmington teenagers. They saw it as a play on words and a smile — giving the drunken Indians what they deserved, according to Barker’s book.

The boys shared one common trait: they were outcasts and loners within the student population.

The question before prosecutors and Judge Frank Zinn was whether to transfer the two 16-year-old boys to adult court. At 15, Clark could not legally be transferred to adult court.

This puzzling decision, especially given the common sentiment among Native Americans and much of the community at large that they should face the harshest sentences, was driven by psychological evaluations conducted by court-appointed psychiatrists.

According to their psychological evaluation, Bender and Ballinger were not irreparable criminals, incapable of rehabilitation. Zinn, after reviewing Clark’s evaluation, believed that he was incapable of remorse. His instinct for justice led him to try the other two as adults.

However, because of the legal obligation to consider all the evidence gathered from the court, Zinn felt he was required to make a decision “just in light of the law.” He said the sentence should fit the individual, not the crime.

All three confessed to the crime. Burke said he participated to a lesser degree.

The youths were ordered to attend the New Mexico School for Boys in Springer for an indefinite period, not to exceed their 21st birthday.

Bender, considered the ringleader, found prison life unbearable and suffered from extreme nightmares and insomnia. He was allowed to stay awake and clean the floors. He eventually succeeded academically, earning his high school equivalency diploma and discovering religion through Christianity.

After spending a few months living with a family in Raton, New Mexico, he attended Lubbock Christian College in Texas, but continued to show his dark side with sadistic art and discussions of death.

Bender died at the age of 20 after spending two days in a coma on life support after being hit by the side mirror of a camper van while jogging.

Ballinger, who had vowed never to be locked up again, married and started a family but was regularly haunted by fear of retaliation and being hunted, according to Barker’s interview with him.

Clark led a life of drug addiction, crime, and frequent in and out of prison. According to Barker’s book, he was constantly tormented by feelings of inadequacy.

Two locals remember and share their views

Esther Keeswood, niece of John Earl Harvey, said she was “sad and upset” when she heard about the killings as a teenager.

His aunt, Jane Becenti, Harvey’s twin sister, informed Keeswood and the immediate families began organizing with the help of Larry Johnson, the local representative of the Native American movement.

Keeswood, a tribal court attorney, said there was a crowd of people at the sentencing hearing and they were not allowed into the courtroom because the boys were minors.

She said the Navajo community was upset because nothing like this had ever happened; if it did, it was isolated.

Regarding the current climate and how his people are treated, Keeswood said: “I think educated people don’t really experience that, but older people… are still getting ripped off a little bit, especially by car dealers.”

Keeswood, who will be a speaker at the commemorative march and rally in September, said, “I hope … that on both sides, the Navajos, the whites and all the colors don’t hurt each other, get along and hate each other.”

Lela Holmes, who moved to Farmington from Albuquerque in 1968, said: “Of course, we were all shocked. I thought the Native Americans were going to rebel against us and become violent toward us.”

She knew the parents of the boys who committed the crimes and her oldest daughter went to school with them. Her daughter came home from school and said the deputy sheriff had checked everyone’s shoes looking for match boots with footprints.

“I think it’s something that developed… that started with young people taking advantage of Native Americans when they were drinking… like taking their hats,” Holmes said.

When they got cars and started taking them up to the canyon, the situation got out of control, she said.

“But the positive thing is I think Farmington started to understand that Native Americans are very important to us, not just for their culture, but for what they do, for our economy. I really felt like that represented a change in attitude toward Native American people,” Holmes said.

Justice through belief

The Diné community did not consider that the punishment given to the perpetrators was proportionate to their senseless and malicious acts of torture, genital mutilation and murder.

It was said that a witch doctor had performed a ceremony to curse the convicted teenagers so that justice would be done.

Barker asked cemetery caretaker Pinto Begay (not his real name) whether the fate of the three boys would have served justice.

Begay said: “It would be justice, Navajo style. The universe could then be put back together and those who have suffered could regain their beauty.”

In the afterword, Barker explains.

“When a circle is closed, evil spirits have no way out, they are trapped inside; and breaking the circle serves as an escape route.”

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