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A.C. Sanders III Writer
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Sierra de Cristo Rey
The following article appeared in the El Paso Magazine in the February issue, 2006. The
column is entitled Signs of El Paso. Mr. Sanders has contributed that column since
February, 2005. The subject is always either historical or folklore, or concerns a local
symbol of importance. He attempts to personalize each piece to demonstrate how the
subject influences each El Pasoan.
column is entitled Signs of El Paso. Mr. Sanders has contributed that column since
February, 2005. The subject is always either historical or folklore, or concerns a local
symbol of importance. He attempts to personalize each piece to demonstrate how the
subject influences each El Pasoan.
It all began in 1933. Reverend Lourdes Costa ministered to the little church, San Jose
del Rio in Smeltertown, a community that straddled the Rio Grande near the fields of slag
from ASARCO refining works. Father Costa had long nurtured the idea of a monument
atop Cerro de Muleros (Mule Driver's Mountain), formally named Rodadero Mountain.
For twenty years the priest had served the residents of Smeltertown, rising each morning
to gaze upon the vista of that peak, his mind visualizing a crucifix crowning the summit.
Not content with idle daydreaming, Father Costa approached Bishop Anthony Schuler
who approved the purchase of two hundred acres that included the peak.
Workmen and volunteers from the community scratched out a trail to the summit and on
February 13, 1934 erected a twelve foot wooden cross. On Palm Sunday that year, an
iron cross fabricated by the Smelter Vocational School replaced the wooden one.
The parish placed fourteen Stations of the Cross along the trail that were dedicated
March 1, 1936. But the priest envisioned something grander--more than a simple cross.
Again he approached the Bishop with an idea to summon a master sculptor from Mexico
City, Costa's childhood companion in Spain.
Urbici Soler had worked on a similar project in South America creating Christ of the
Andes. He designed several clay models of a statue from which one was selected. Soler
then traveled to Austin, Texas, to procure more than sixty blocks of Cordovan cream
limestone, thirty tons, from which to sculpt his monument. The blocks were trucked to the
base of the mountain, carried by tractor as far up as possible, then placed on a specially
constructed railway for the final leg to the peak. A steel support, sunk thirty feet into the
mountain, anchors the structure.
The face of Christ is bigger than Soler, so to achieve perspective, he had an assistant
stand on the scaffolding and sketch the face on the limestone block as Soler shouted
instructions from a distance down the slope. Soler spent a year on the mountain
sculpting the statue, the task completed in 1939. The statue itself stands 33.5 feet high,
42.5 feet including the nine foot base. A dedication was held that year on October 29th.
Folks referred to the monument as the Christ of the Rockies.
In March, 1940, residents of Smeltertown and Anapra voted in a landslide election to
change the name of the peak from Rodadero Mountain to SIerra de Cristo Rey--the
Mountain of Christ the King.
The visionary, Father Costa, predicted in 1934 that pilgrims from all over this country,
Mexico, and North America would journey to the peak of Sierra de Cristo Rey. The priest
proved prescient indeed. Each year thousands from different faiths, races and cultures
endure the pilgrimage to the summit.
El Paso is filled with those landmarks that tie us to home, give each of us a sense of
place. Religious icons proffer a visual or tangible sense of the spiritual. Every religion
has them. We need them. The community of El Paso is blessed with a magnificent
monument that anchors each of us in both place and spirit.
In 1964, my fiance and I first visited Mom and Dad in El Paso. They took us out to see
the sights. As we drove up Mesa, my mother pointed westward, "And oh yes, that's Mount
Cristo Rey. Isn't it magnificent?" Though not a conscious phenomenon at the time, that
rocky mountain with a statue on the peak became an anchor for me, a talisman of home
and faith. In 1967, I stood in the backyard of their home across the street from Temple
Mount Sinai and gazed to the Southwest at Sierra de Cristo Rey. Later that morning, my
pregnant wife would take me to the airport, the first step of a journey to Vietnam. I was
anxious. Hell, I was scared. Yet there was a sense of security with the Star of David
covering my backside and the Cross on the mountain guiding me forward. I vowed to
survive.
Since that time, I have made two Good Friday pilgrimages to the summit. We have
celebrated the Stations of the Cross. I am moved by those who choose to climb the bare
rocks off the trail barefoot, or crawl along the path on their knees in penance, old folks in
wheelchairs, young mothers carrying their infants, all the faithful grasping for spiritual
ballast. And the view from the top is of our home.
Father Costa did not envision a suffering Christ, as typical of a crucifix. Instead he and
Urbici Soler gave us the Prince of Peace, fully robed, with arms outstretched and palms
down, embracing all within the valley of The Pass and Juarez, regardless of culture or
faith.
I wish each of you an introspective Lenten Season, a powerful Passover, and a glorious
Easter.
A.C. Sanders
del Rio in Smeltertown, a community that straddled the Rio Grande near the fields of slag
from ASARCO refining works. Father Costa had long nurtured the idea of a monument
atop Cerro de Muleros (Mule Driver's Mountain), formally named Rodadero Mountain.
For twenty years the priest had served the residents of Smeltertown, rising each morning
to gaze upon the vista of that peak, his mind visualizing a crucifix crowning the summit.
Not content with idle daydreaming, Father Costa approached Bishop Anthony Schuler
who approved the purchase of two hundred acres that included the peak.
Workmen and volunteers from the community scratched out a trail to the summit and on
February 13, 1934 erected a twelve foot wooden cross. On Palm Sunday that year, an
iron cross fabricated by the Smelter Vocational School replaced the wooden one.
The parish placed fourteen Stations of the Cross along the trail that were dedicated
March 1, 1936. But the priest envisioned something grander--more than a simple cross.
Again he approached the Bishop with an idea to summon a master sculptor from Mexico
City, Costa's childhood companion in Spain.
Urbici Soler had worked on a similar project in South America creating Christ of the
Andes. He designed several clay models of a statue from which one was selected. Soler
then traveled to Austin, Texas, to procure more than sixty blocks of Cordovan cream
limestone, thirty tons, from which to sculpt his monument. The blocks were trucked to the
base of the mountain, carried by tractor as far up as possible, then placed on a specially
constructed railway for the final leg to the peak. A steel support, sunk thirty feet into the
mountain, anchors the structure.
The face of Christ is bigger than Soler, so to achieve perspective, he had an assistant
stand on the scaffolding and sketch the face on the limestone block as Soler shouted
instructions from a distance down the slope. Soler spent a year on the mountain
sculpting the statue, the task completed in 1939. The statue itself stands 33.5 feet high,
42.5 feet including the nine foot base. A dedication was held that year on October 29th.
Folks referred to the monument as the Christ of the Rockies.
In March, 1940, residents of Smeltertown and Anapra voted in a landslide election to
change the name of the peak from Rodadero Mountain to SIerra de Cristo Rey--the
Mountain of Christ the King.
The visionary, Father Costa, predicted in 1934 that pilgrims from all over this country,
Mexico, and North America would journey to the peak of Sierra de Cristo Rey. The priest
proved prescient indeed. Each year thousands from different faiths, races and cultures
endure the pilgrimage to the summit.
El Paso is filled with those landmarks that tie us to home, give each of us a sense of
place. Religious icons proffer a visual or tangible sense of the spiritual. Every religion
has them. We need them. The community of El Paso is blessed with a magnificent
monument that anchors each of us in both place and spirit.
In 1964, my fiance and I first visited Mom and Dad in El Paso. They took us out to see
the sights. As we drove up Mesa, my mother pointed westward, "And oh yes, that's Mount
Cristo Rey. Isn't it magnificent?" Though not a conscious phenomenon at the time, that
rocky mountain with a statue on the peak became an anchor for me, a talisman of home
and faith. In 1967, I stood in the backyard of their home across the street from Temple
Mount Sinai and gazed to the Southwest at Sierra de Cristo Rey. Later that morning, my
pregnant wife would take me to the airport, the first step of a journey to Vietnam. I was
anxious. Hell, I was scared. Yet there was a sense of security with the Star of David
covering my backside and the Cross on the mountain guiding me forward. I vowed to
survive.
Since that time, I have made two Good Friday pilgrimages to the summit. We have
celebrated the Stations of the Cross. I am moved by those who choose to climb the bare
rocks off the trail barefoot, or crawl along the path on their knees in penance, old folks in
wheelchairs, young mothers carrying their infants, all the faithful grasping for spiritual
ballast. And the view from the top is of our home.
Father Costa did not envision a suffering Christ, as typical of a crucifix. Instead he and
Urbici Soler gave us the Prince of Peace, fully robed, with arms outstretched and palms
down, embracing all within the valley of The Pass and Juarez, regardless of culture or
faith.
I wish each of you an introspective Lenten Season, a powerful Passover, and a glorious
Easter.
A.C. Sanders