Ethnocentric perspectives often begin El Paso’s relevance as an intersection with the railroad. When realistically, the United States’ path through Spanish territory –– and even Spain’s path through the river, were merely following ancient indigenous routes.
Historians have also been quick to point out that in 1890, the City of El Paso’s population saw a 1300% increase from the previous ten years. Because the train arrived in 1881, much of the 10,338 people –– presumably in the middle of nowhere –– are credited as being a byproduct of the industrialized effort. However, most fail to mention that the population of “El Paso, Chihuahua” had already reached 10,000, in 1872. Whether semantics or propaganda, the railroad tracks did create a momentous shift –– just maybe not in the way it’s been portrayed.
People were not coming to this part of the world for first time. But for the first time, people from this region were able to influence the world. The speed in which our enclave was able to collide (and sometimes adopt) opposing ideologies, made it unlike any other place in the world. This was before the advent of air travel and commercial flights. For the first time, Anglos were departing from areas close enough to arrive in a day. Yet, they were still from far away enough to feel like foreigners. El Paso del Norte gave birth to escapism.
But it wasn’t just superficial differences the newcomers were experiencing, it was immersive. The environment and dry habitat was alienating. By the time the railroad arrived, Paseños could have had hundreds if not thousands of years of genetic acclimation to Aridoamerica. The food, language, and culture, were an inexplicable amalgam that had obviously taken generations to develop.