Yes, the title’s a little cynical. After the events of last night and yet another affirmation of the way colonial societies do violence (physical, structural, institutional, spiritual) to people of color, I’m feeling more than a little cynical this morning. And the title’s no less true for that.
Only one U.S. state with any significant turquoise-mining presence remains to be covered here: California. It’s a Spanish name, one that was bestowed, despite the fact that an abundance of place names for the area already existed, named by the peoples indigenous to it, by the colonials who annexed it first as part of their “New World” nation they called “Mexico,” then as part of the so-called United States.
Historically, of course, it was all one land, all part of this one continent known to our Northern relatives as Turtle Island.
But colonialism has other ideas and other agendas, and so now we have three separate nation-states that have subsumed all of the hundreds of smaller individual extant nations into their greedy maws. We also have borders, arbitrary in the extreme, that separate families, kin and clan, in ways our ancestors could never have envisioned.
The stone knows, of course. Unlike people and politics, it’s not bound by artificial lines in the sand. It goes where it wills, and where it’s sent by the elemental forces, and so we have underground deposits that run beneath those lines in the sand, cropping up here on this side, there on that side, but all part of the same family of stone.
Of course, in the market of this dominant culture, its “value” is not determined by its family connections, but by those artificial lines on the sand’s surface.
And so, turquoise from New Mexico or Arizona or California will sell for one price, while the exact same turquoise, mineralogically and chemically identical, its only difference that it was pulled from the earth on the south side of the border, will sell for much less.
Because in this market, it’s not “American turquoise.”
We’ll begin today with what the market considers “American,” solely because it exists north of the border.
CALIFORNIA MINES
Most of the turquoise mined in California comes form a cluster of mines in the southeastern part of the state, not far from the Arizona border and aggregated around the general area of Old Route 66. It’s a small amount of turquoise, particularly compared to what’s mined in neighboring Arizona and Nevada, but it’s substantial enough to make it a modest player in the gemstone and Indian jewelry markets.
Today, generally speaking, most people refer to turquoise coming from this region as San Bernardino turquoise. It’s the name of the larger mining district, and comes, of course, from the county in which it largely sits. The county seat is the city of San Bernardino, of the ’60s TV series (and the Nelson Riddle Orchestra’s theme song) Route 66 fame. It’s another stop on the trade route we followed a few months ago when we looked at Arizona’s Kingman turquoise. Today, the city is in decline: In 2012, news outlets reported that among cities with a population of 200,000 or more people, San Bernardino was the poorest in California, and second-poorest in the nation (Detroit holds the distinction of being poorest). It is not, however, a result of anything remotely like the dynamic that has left Detroit, certain urban and rural populations, or too many Indian reservations and other communities of color in similar dire straits, but rather, a result of the subprime mortgage meltdown.
It’s an area that is ethnically relatively diverse, but also with a relatively small Native population. As the place names of the area indicate, it was thoroughly overtaken by the Spanish early on in the area’s colonial period, and the tribes were converted to “Mission” Catholicism by force. Today, out of a total county population exceeding 1.7 million, fewer than twenty-three thousand self-identified Indians live there, although at one time, they were very much the majority in the region. Of course, much of the Hispanic population there, as here in New Mexico, carries the same indigenous blood in its veins despite identifying otherwise.
And just as no European “discovered” this land where our peoples had already lived for tens of thousands of years, so, too, did no one of European ancestry discover the Skystone lodged in the California earth. Indians had been mining it for centuries, just as they had with every other deposit in the country. Indeed, before the border crossed them all, arbitrarily segregating them in perpetuity, Indians from what is now northern Nevada to deep into the Mexican interior mined turquoise; cut it into stones and beads and other adornments; used it artistically, culturally, decoratively, ceremonially; and traveled with it to trade it up, down, and across thousands of miles of trade routes.
But back to California’s San Bernardino Mining District. It’s a district that is often subdivided colloquially into smaller districts associated with specific geographic markers and mines. As a result, you will often see references to turquoise from not only San Bernardino, but Halloran Springs, Himalaya, Toltec, and Turquoise Mountain (yes! another “Turquoise Mountain,” this one with works divided into East Camp, Middle Camp, and West Camp).
Today, these mines produce a very small amount of what’s on the American turquoise market. Many of the original mines are now defunct; those that remain in operation produce only a modest amount. It’s hard to get a fix on appearance as a result. Most of what I’ve seen labeled “San Bernardino turquoise” appears to be relatively low in matrix and often somewhat teal-colored, like the small square cabochon in the image shown above. To be clear, whether the cab in the photo actually is San Bernardino turquoise is entirely an open question; I’m showing the image here purely to provide an example of what much of what is identified accordingly does look like.
It’s also hard to get a fix on value. As of this writing, I have found none that of clear provenance priced in a way that makes calculating the value of the stone itself feasible (e.g., v. the overall value of a piece of jewelry that happens to contain a small piece of turquoise labeled thusly). Based on what I’ve seen over the years, my best guess is that even the best-grade stone from this area is unlikely to be priced at more than a few dollars per carat in cabochon form — certainly no more than low double digits, and I would guess that that is exceedingly unlikely. I would also guess that its best claim to value is an intangible one, associated with the history of the mining district itself and with the state and region, rather than a particularly high inherent gemological value.
MEXICO MINES
Two regions in Northern Mexico provide the vast majority of the country’s turquoise: Baja California, which is, of course, the southern leg of what in the U.S. is known as the state of California; and Sonora, which sits immediately beneath the border with what is now labeled Arizona.
Baja Region
The most famous turquoise mine in Baja California is the old Evans Mine, in the Ensenada area on the northern coast. Ensenada is the third-largest city in Baja, and very old, but it’s primary industry today is tourism of the cruise-ship variety. The name, of course, was bestowed by Spanish invaders, specifically by the priests accompanying the forces; its original name, or names, are now lost to history, despite the fact that at least three branches of the Yuman tribal nation remain in the area. The Spanish first called it Ensenada de Todos Santos (Cove of All Saints), on the Portuguese-named Bahía de Todos Santos (Bay of All Saints), but it was eventually shortened simply to Ensenada, or “Cove.”
By 1882, colonization was fully under way by Anglo forces. The English-owned Mexican Land and Colonization Company (back then, of course, “colonization” was seen as an admirable thing) launched development attempts, only to be stymied by the Mexican Revolution. In the more than century since, various industries have come and gone, including various mining operations. I’ve been unable (with time as limited as it is) to find our much about the old Evans Mine from the area, which seems now to be largely defunct; the chief mining product these days appears to gravel exported to the U.S. At a guess, it was probably a part of the old Evans-Tanzer Consolidated Copper Mining operations in California, now also defunct — which would mean that it was likely a U.S.-owned concern even then.
It’s even more difficult to get a handle on Evans turquoise, in terms of either appearance or value, than it is for California turquoise. Apparently little that is clearly identifiable is on the market in a form that makes valuation of the stone itself feasible, and provenance of what is available is probably mostly unclear.
Sonora Region
Today, most of the turquoise that comes out of Mexico comes from Sonora, the state directly below the country’s border with Arizona. It’s bounded by Baja California on the west, just below California, and by Chihuahua on the east, beneath the New Mexico border. It’s not the only gemstone mined in Sonora, either; the region is home to a dazzling array of agates and obsidians and chrysocollas, among others, including a chrysocolla called “Sonoran Sunrise,” which looks very much like turquoise but differs mineralogically, and appears in a combination of greenish-blue and coral shades with black matrices.
There are several mines currently operating in Sonora where turquoise is extracted (whether as a primary product or secondarily to other substances), and several more that are no longer in use. Much of the stone produced in this area is indistinguishable from the major forms of Arizona turquoise, whether Sleeping Beauty, Kingman, or even some Bisbee. I’m only going to cover a few of them here.
Campitos
The Campitos (Spanish for “Little Camps”, where “camps” stands in for the concepts of “fields” or “countryside”) operation produces largely greenish to blue-green stone. None of what I’ve seen is especially valuable compared to top-grade gem-quality stone; it’s often used for mass commercial production of cabochons and beads, some of which appear to be stabilized and dyed. In its natural form, it’s still a lovely stone, in fairly rich stone shades and with matrices that vary from spiderwebbing to flecks and blocks of pyrite.
Campo Frio
Campo Frio (“Cold Camp,” or perhaps more specifically, “Cold Country”) is another Sonora turquoise mine that produces quite a bit of greenish stone. Like Campitos turquoise, much of it is spiderwebbed, with pyrite appearing to be the primary matrix mineral. Also like Campitos, it’s commonly used for mass production of cabs and beads, although you can also find good Campo Frio cabochons sold independently for use in earrings, bracelets, pins, etc. On the green end of the turquoise spectrum, it makes for beautiful classic Indian jewelry without the high cost of much so-called “American turquoise” whose only differing virtue is being pulled from the earth north of the imaginary border.
Nacozari
Nacozari is probably the best-known contemporary Mexican turquoise. It looks like Kingman turquoise, and is probably mostly indistinguishable from it in mineralogical terms. It’s mined in sufficient quantities to make it possible to create large solid cabochons with it, and it’s sold on both sides of the border for fairly reasonable prices.
Most Nacozari that I’ve seen labeled as such is a clear, bright blue, ranging from a robin’s-egg shade to a sky blue. It sometimes has a bit of webbing, often around the edges, but most of the matrices seem to be either swatches of pyrite or the sort of faint white inclusions of host rock frequently found in much Arizona turquoise. The photo at the top of this post is of uncertain provenance; it is most likely Arizona turquoise, but it’s representative of what Nacozari looks like. If you’re looking for a classic “Indian turquoise” at a more reasonable price than that labeled “American,” Nacozari is a cost-effective alternative.
Next week: Asia and the Middle East.
~ Aji
All content, including photos and text, are copyright Wings and Aji, 2016; all rights reserved. Nothing herein may used or reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the owners.
