"They Came in Ships..."

[An address delivered by Paul Newfield III on October 7, 2000, at Donaldsonville, Louisiana, on the occasion of the dedication of the monument celebrating the Canary Islanders who settled in Louisiana in the late 18^th century.]

El año mil setecientos, setenta y ocho...

The year 1778. They came in ships ‑‑ men, women, children ‑‑ our ancestors.

Seven hundred recently enlisted recruits with their families, departing their native Canary Islands forever, aboard sailing ships that would carry them across the seas to Spanish Louisiana.

By estimate, approximately 2,363 Isleños set sail for Louisiana, but not all of them arrived here.

King Carlos III of Spain required fresh troops to bear arms in the imminent war against Great Britain, and he needed loyal subjects to settle, populate and defend his Louisiana lands. Over a period of about five years, beginning in the about 1778, our Canary Islands ancestors came to Louisiana. They settled at places they called San Bernardo, Tierra de los Bueyes, Galveztown, Barataria, Valenzuela.

I have often tried to imagine what it might have been like for those early Isleños.

Why did they come?

What circumstances would compel a man to leave his native land and boldly travel to the other side of the earth, to a distant destination, Nevermore to return?

It takes Courage, Inner Strength, Faith, and a lot of Hope –

Attributes that I admire in my ancestors and that I look for in myself.

Who were those people?? These CORVO, MARRERO, FALCON; SANCHEZ, SUAREZ, DIAZ, DOMINGUEZ; LOPEZ, RAMIREZ, GONZALEZ; GARCIA, PEREZ, HERNANDEZ, RODRIGUEZ, FERNANDEZ; MARTIN, MARTINEZ; HIDALGO, DELGADO; MORALES, TORRES, TRUXILLO; ACOSTA, ALEMAN and PLASENCIA??

These Canary Islanders were loyal subjects of King Carlos III of Spain. Their native archipelago consisted then, as it does now, of seven volcanic islands situated in the deep blue waters of the Atlantic Ocean, some 800 miles southwest of Spain and 100 miles west of Morocco on the African continent.

They came to this place called Louisiana ‑‑ this flat, featureless land of marshes, bayous, swamps and prairies ‑‑ a place so very different from their homeland.

They were military men, freshly recruited soldiers of the newly established Second Battalion of the Fixed Louisiana Regiment. Earning their pay, they captured Baton Rouge from the British in 1779; they captured Mobile in 1780, and Pensacola in 1781. In the story of America's fight for Independence, these soldiers justifiably earned a place of honor. They were pioneer farmers ‑ tamers of the land and cultivators of the soil.

Equally deserving of recognition and a place of special honor were the Women ‑‑ the wives, the mothers ‑‑ keepers of the hearth, Women who shared the hardships and joys, who bore the children and who reared and nurtured them.

In our research, we are fortunate to have access to the detailed records, penned by Spanish clerks and administrators more than 200 years ago, among which are a series of ledger books called Libros Maestros.

In Valenzuela, the Libro Maestro dates from 1779, and lists 113 family groups, including 3 widows and 9 orphaned girls, for a total count of about 400 souls.

The very first name appearing in that Libro Maestro was Francisco Gonzales Carbo, with his wife and 9 children ‑ 11 family members in all. It is no wonder that this family name is so well known to us all.

Many Canary Islanders prospered... But not all. Those in Galveztown were not so fortunate.

The recruit Antonio Alonso set sail from Santa Cruz de Tenerife on October 28, 1778 aboard the frigate San Ignacio de Loyola, with his wife Rita and their 5 year old son, Antonio. Rita was two months pregnant when they began the voyage.

She must have been a strong woman. A sea voyage, pregnant, but with a spirit full of Hope. They arrived at New Orleans in early January, 1779, and they were among 28 families of the San Ignacio who ascended the Mississippi River to Galveztown, a newly established frontier settlement at the confluence of Iberville's Bayou Manchak and the Amite River, directly across from contentious British territory. The Alonso family would be part of the Galveztown settlement, and the elder Antonio would hope to wear the uniform of Bernardo de Galvez's Second Louisiana Infantry Battalion.

The Alonso family was enrolled on the pages of the Libro Maestro, and from these pages from Galveztown we read the following notations:

"On May 27, 1779 was born a daughter.

"On the 8th of July, 1779 the son died;

"On the 25th of July, 1779 the daughter died;

And then lastly we read,

"All the remaining individuals of this family died on the 2nd and the 16th of September, 1779...."

Only 11 months after Antonio Alonso and his family sailed, they were all gone. Vanquished Hope! Sic transit gloria mundi.

The old settlement at Barataria has all but disappeared, returned now to its original moss and palmetto, but its cultural legacy to us is a small, languid bayou, remembered to this day as Bayou des Familles ‑ "Bayou of the Families" ‑ in recognition of the Canarian families that once inhabited its banks. Ironically the name of the bayou is in French.

From the settlements of San Bernardo and Tierra de los Bueyes in St. Bernard parish, those early Isleños bequeathed to us their Spanish language, which they passed along to their children and their children's children. They perpetuated the old stories, and they sang their decimas ‑ those distinctive songs of a particular form and meter that celebrate life. The Isleños of St. Bernard, above all, have been "keepers of the flame", where that glowing ember of "Spanishness" has continued to smolder for more than 200 years.

And back to the settlement of Valenzuela ‑ along the banks of Bayou Lafourche des Chetimaches ‑ where we are today.

We have come here, this October 7th, 2000, to this old venerable parish cemetery of the Church of the Ascension, in Donaldsonville, Louisiana, to dedicate and bless this beautiful monumental stone. And in so doing, let us also call upon our Isleño ancestors ‑ those bold immigrants ‑ for their blessing upon us and our families; and we pray that their strengths and virtues will continue to pour down upon us, their lineal descendants and heirs of their blood ‑ upon us here, who, in their time, were the Hope for which they prayed.

Paul Newfield III