In Search of the Roots of the I.O.N. Basques
The past week we have been in Bayonne, capital of Pays Basque, the French share of the Basque country. As a child living in Boise, Idaho I was aware of the Basques because a fair number had migrated to the Idaho/Oregon/Nevada region at the end of the 19th century and the beginning of the 20th. There were students at school with Basque surnames whose jet black hair and onyx eyes made them stand out. In the fourth grade Danny Aligazabo (not sure about the spelling) joined our school a grade ahead of me. He was noted for his singing voice and his version of “A Little White Duck” that he was called upon to perform. At North Junior High there were several more Basque children (they of course were “Basque” in the same sense Danny Riley was “Irish.”) with names like Allegeria and Harmochia (again, spellings are approximate). There was (and still is) a Basque Cultural Center in Boise, and once a year or so young Basques would dress in white with red scarves and berets and dance at a Basque festival. After the eighth grade I moved to Weiser, Idaho where there were no Basques, though I had a several classmates of Japanese descent and a few of Hispanic origin. Interesting how diverse a rural school could be at that time.
Though there were no Basques in Weiser, we knew that many had settled near Jordan Valley in farthest southeast Oregon and that if you happened to be traveling down Highway 97 to Winnemucca, Nevada you should stop at the Basque Inn for some great food. We also knew that many of the sheepherders watching over large bands on the surrounding rangelands had been brought from Spain to do a lonely job that few locals cared to do. My junior year in high school the Weiser Signal-American front page reported that the feds had broken a racket that was paying local women to marry Basques so they could be brought over from Spain to herd. Once they became legal residents, they were divorced; once they’d saved enough money, they returned home. One of the women was a waitress at the local Chinese restaurant, and people (including my mother) would whisper that “she” was one of those the article was talking about. It all blew over before long, and she married (and soon divorced) a man who’d take me hunting. By the time I left Idaho to go out into the world, about the only other thing I knew about the Basques came from a Jeff Chandler/Susan Hayward/Jacques Bergerac movie “Thunder in the Sun.” I watched it again recently; fortunately none of it had stuck with me. I had a sufficient supply of stereotypes and misinformation already.
Aside from news stories about terrorist acts by the Basque separatist group the ETA (Euskadi Ta Askatasuna), I really didn’t think much about them. Then following retirement, I became interested in the history Owyhee Canyon where my godparents once had a ranch. In the late 19th and early 20th centuries a number of Basques left northern Spain and emigrated to what is known now as I.O.N. (Idaho/Oregon/Nevada). Though many began as laborers or herders, they contributed importantly to the development of the area. One cannot but be impressed by the way that within one or two generations they could go from being a shepherd to owning a ranch or a business. And late 19th and early 20th century school records suggest they gave great attention to education.
Despite the role that they played, comparatively little has been written about the I.O.N. Basques. There is a 1944 USC doctoral dissertation by Joseph Harold Gaiser that I find frustrating. Gaiser spent some time in the Jordan Valley area conducting interviews, but he identifies few of his informants and he is no longer alive. Many of the interviews offer interesting glimpses of Basque life, and some of the informants or certainly their immediate descendants would still be alive. But without knowing who they are, it is difficult to follow up.
Gaiser’s dissertation does explain, however, a point that has piqued my curiosity as I have gone through the 1980 BLM interviews with early residents of the Owyhee Canyon. None of those interviewed was of Basque descent, and although the interviewees often referred to their neighbors, few said very much about the Basques, whom they referred to as “Baskos.” Gaiser’s explanation is “enclavement”–the tendency of a people to keep to themselves, maintain their cultural norms, and use their own language. He refers to cases of Basques–women especially–who lived many years in the Jordan Valley but never interacted with those they referred to as “Americans.” That naturally changed with the following generation who went to local schools. The phenomenon of course is common among immigrant groups.
My curiosity piqued, I decided to take advantage of the opportunity presented by a trip through southern France and northern Spain to see what I might learn about the places where the Owyhee Basques originated. We have just spent a week in Bayonne, the capital of Pays Basque in southwestern France. True to my expectations, I didn’t find much about Basque emigration in the French portion of Basque country. The museums focus mostly on Basque culture–dance, food, architecture–economy and the language, and I really haven’t had the opportunity to talk with anyone who might know. I have encountered a few people who’ve told me they have a “cousin in Reno.” (There’s a Basque Studies Center there I really ought to visit; one at Boise State University too.) Although I haven’t yet uncovered anything that pertains to Basques in the Owyhee, who mainly originated in the fishing villages of northern Spain, I have come across some other interesting developments.
Like most Americans, I imagine, I have thought of Basque nationalism (i.e., the desire for a Basque state) only in terms of the Basques in Spain. And it’s not just Americans. The British author of our guide book to the Basque country in France and Spain (published in 2015), wrote, “In terms of politics specific to the French Basques, there is precious little support north of the border for the idea of an independent, seven province Basque state.” During Mitterrand’s tenure (1981-95) there was talk of official recognition of the Basque language and the creation of a French Pays Basque department from the three former French Basque provinces. Neither became a reality. But in recent years this seems to have been changing.
The impression one gets traveling around Bayonne is that there is deep pride in Basque culture and language. The Basque flag is found everywhere, and signs–often including road signs–are in Euskara as well as French. Driving through the countryside we saw billboards advertising Euskara language courses. And in Bayonne itself the importance of the language has gained recognition with the creation of an Office Public de la Langue Basque about a decade ago and a plan of actions for 2017-2020. These include offering services in Euskara, especially for the students of Bayonne, such as extracurricular activities, proposals for cultural programming in Basque, and increased use of Basque in municipal communications. Bayonne has also signed an agreement with the Association Euskal Moneta for extending the use of the eusko, a Basque currency, in municipal services. I was surprised to learn of this currency, which came into existence in 2013 and is modeled on the euro. It seems that such developments would reflect a nascent desire for increased autonomy if not independence. It will be interesting to see what influence developments across the border in Catalonia will have and what the response of the Basque diaspora might be. Interesting, but there is too much here I don’t know, and two weeks in Basque Country (Spain as well as France) will hardly cure my ignorance. We'll see what I learn in Spain.