Ancestry Magazine

Like many Mexican Americans in the United States, I was instilled with the importance of appreciating my genealogical past at an early age. My parents made sure to communicate to me the stories of our family and made me proud to be part of a continuous family chain that has existed in the Americas since the late 1500s.

My ancestors come from the present north central Mexican state of Chihuahua and lived in that part of the Western Hemisphere for well over four hundred years. My research has allowed me to document my family’s presence there for the past twelve generations. It has been an unbelievable journey researching the history of my family through its documented past, particularly when I sought to locate my seventh great-grandfather Captain Antonio de Villalva’s most important and very elusive last will and testament. This would never have been possible if it were not for the Spanish colonial government’s obsession with record keeping.

For some time I had been trying to find my ancestor’s will in the hope that it would shed new light on his very productive life and tie together other details that I had already found.

Captain Antonio de Villalva had been one of the founding settlers that arrived at the mining settlement of San Francisco de Cuéllar in the early eighteenth century. Most of these early settlers had arrived when the first silver mines were discovered in the area. These discoveries drew many settlers to the area where they also established several silver refining haciendas that sprouted along the confluence of the two rivers, Chuvíscar and Sacramento. The intersection of these two rivers became the site of the Real de San Francisco de Cuéllar. The town continued to grow in size and by 1 October 1718 it was elevated it to the status of a villa, and was then given the official name of the Villa of San Felipe el Real de Chihuahua.

In attempting to track down my ancestor, I had learned that upon arriving at San Francisco de Cuéllar in the early 1700s, de Villalva had established friendships and business relationships with many of the early founders of the area. The contacts he fostered allowed me to confirm his existence within the town. This provided me with an important navigational tool in the search for a possible testament he might have left behind.

With some persistent effort, I managed to locate the proof that he had indeed written one. Antonio’s death record, dated 21 April 1723, states that he was buried with a high mass in the local church of the Villa de San Felipe el Real and that he had left a testament that was to be executed according to his wishes.

Finding proof of the existence of this important document was a surprise. But I now knew that he had left a will and I was on the right track. But how and where would I be able to find his actual will? Did it even exist?

My next move was to plot a course of action. Just when I had begun to make a concerted effort in trying to gather information on the possible location of his will, and realizing how difficult a task this might become, my luck changed.

On many occasions I had discussed my family history with my good friend LeRoy Anthony Reaza, who was a fellow researcher and a longtime member of my genealogical association. He also happened to have ancestral ties to those early settlers of the Villa; two of his ancestors had held important positions on the Villa’s first town council.

By coincidence, I had previously found evidence that confirmed the fact that our ancestors knew each other. As a result of his extensive knowledge of colonial Chihuahua, and his assorted and unique collection of books, the mystery of the location of Captain Antonio de Villalva’s testament was finally resolved.

The key to my ancestor’s will was in a book I borrowed from LeRoy. It was a small, thin paperback with photographs entitled La Catedral de Chihuahua (The Cathedral of Chihuahua), written by Dr. Clara Bargellini. The book chronicled the general history of the Cathedral of Chihuahua from its founding and included detailed analysis of its architectural designs and the many important artifacts that were found within the cathedral. As I looked through it, I happened to come across a brief description of a carved life-size black wooden statue known as the Santo Cristo de Mapimí (Holy Christ of Mapimí).

A silver and gold plated crown was permanently mounted on the statue’s head and contained three symbolic spikes that represented the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. The story associated with this Black Christ figure (which is currently displayed on an altarpiece in one of the main chapels in the cathedral) is said to have originated in the late 1600s.

The statue was found when a group of Spanish soldiers battled a large group of Salinero Indians that inhabited a dry, desolate area located southeast from the jurisdiction of Chihuahua. The figure came to symbolize the Spaniards’ determination and unwavering faith that they believed helped lead them to their victory over the hostile tribal Indians.

It was from there that this Black Christ was first brought to the parish of Santa Rosa de Cusihuiriáchic in the late 1690s and was subsequently relocated to the first primitive church of San Francisco de Cuéllar about 1715. This small church would eventually become the present- day Cathedral of Chihuahua.

At the end of the description was a tiny footnote and reference that provided me with the most definitive clue to date. The answer appeared at the bottom of the page in this simple phrase, “In 1723 Antonio de Villalva left in his testament `to create a silver and gold plated crown of the three potentates for the Christ of Mapimí.’ Might possibly be the one he still has. Protocol 1-1-2, ANCh (Notarial Archive of Chihuahua), f.91-91v.” (translation).

At long last and after many exhaustive hours of intensive searching for the proverbial needle in the haystack, I had finally read the exact reference citation I had hoped for.

The first thought that came to mind was to find a way to contact the author of the book, Dr. Clara Bargellini. Since she had cited and quoted from my ancestor’s testament, I felt there was a chance she may have seen the entire document and might know how to obtain a copy. At this stage, the only task I had in mind was to track her down and hope that she would be the answer to my search.

Knowing that Dr. Bargellini had published several books, I went to the Internet and executed multiple searches to find an e-mail address where I might be able to contact her. After several unsuccessful attempts, I finally managed to find her contact information.

Dr. Clara Bargellini is at present a professor at the Institute of Aesthetic Research at the National Autonomous University of Mexico. S he has written various books and articles on the colonial art and history of Northern Mexico. Having found her e-mail address, I was excited to think that I might actually be able to contact her. I knew that my letter would have to capture her attention immediately; otherwise there was a chance she would disregard it since she didn’t know who I was. While writing my letter one late afternoon and including every relevant bit of detail in an attempt to attract her interest, I never imagined that by the following morning I would have a response from her.

Her e-mail was enthusiastic and included everything that I was seeking. She expressed her surprise at having received an e-mail from an individual in Los Angeles who had ties to a specifically referenced footnote she had published fifteen years earlier. She knew how much it meant to me to be able to obtain a copy of my ancestor’s will and assured me that she would do everything possible to help me.

She wrote, “I don’t want to get your hopes up too much, but I may actually have a copy of it. I did the Chihuahua book quite a few years ago, as you know, but I have kept documents and notes. I will need to go through them, of course, so it may not be too quick. But I shall make an effort to look for it. If I do not have it, I am sure I can help you get it.”

At long last, it seemed that I would be achieving the goal I had set out to fulfill. As luck would have it, I did not have to wait long for her reply. Slightly more than one week later, she wrote to me and stated that she had a complete copy of Captain Antonio de Villalva’s testament dated 31 March 1723.

After fifteen years of collecting dust in one of her many archival boxes, it would once again surface onto the stage of the new millennium. Dr. Bargellini offered to enlarge it for easier readability and to send it to me via FedEx within the week. I was on cloud nine and in complete astonishment.

Sure enough, within a week of receiving that memorable e-mail, I had her FedEx package in hand with its all-important contents—my seventh great-grandfather Captain Antonio de Villalva’s testament!

It is a thorough document comprising more than thirty pages of invaluable information concerning his family, religious devotion, funeral rites, property, and business relationships. It has also afforded me the opportunity to dispel as well as confirm some of the many theories I had proposed concerning my ancestor’s rewarding life.

Family ancestral documents such as testaments are often rare and very difficult to locate. Finding and obtaining a copy of a much desired and obscure record is the ultimate gift that anyone can expect to receive when every single piece of the investigative puzzle is finally put in place. It is quite an extraordinary and momentous event to be able to view and read a signed document that pertained to an ancestor who died nearly three hundred years ago.

Jaime Pacheco, a native of East Los Angeles, California, is an independent genealogical researcher and historian specializing in colonial Northern Mexico. He recently contributed to La Herencia magazine and is presently co-authoring an article on the early years of the first colonial town council of the city of Chihuahua, Mexico.