New Mexico (Spanish: Nuevo México [ˈnweβo ˈmexiko]; Navajo: Yootó Hahoodzo [jo:tó haho:dzo]) is a state located in the southwestern region of the United States. It was admitted to the union as the 47th state on January 6, 1912. It is usually considered one of the Mountain States. New Mexico is the fifth-most extensive, the 36th-most populous, and the sixth-least densely populated of the 50 United States.
Inhabited by indigenous peoples of the Americas for many centuries before European exploration, New Mexico was subsequently part of the Imperial Spanish viceroyalty of New Spain. Later, it was part of Mexico before becoming a U.S. territory and eventually a U.S. state. Among U.S. states, New Mexico has the highest percentage of Hispanics, including descendants of Spanish colonists who have lived in the area for more than 400 years. It also has the second-highest percentage of Native Americans after Alaska, and the fourth-highest total number of Native Americans after California, Oklahoma, and Arizona. The nations in the state consist of mostly Navajo, Pueblo, and Apache peoples. As a result, the demographics and culture of the state are unique for their strong Hispanic and Native American influences, both of which are reflected in the state flag. The scarlet and gold colors of the New Mexico flag are taken from the royal standards of Spain, along with the ancient sun symbol of the Zia, a Pueblo-related tribe.
New Mexico has a long history of wine production in the United States. In 1629, Franciscan friar García de Zúñiga and a Capuchín monk named Antonio de Arteaga planted the first wine grapes in the Río Grande valley of southern New Mexico. Viticulture took hold in the valley, and by the year 1880, grapes were grown on over 3,000 acres (12 km2), and wineries produced over 1,000,000 US gallons (3,800,000 L) of wine. The editor of the Socorro bulletin predicted in 1880 that "We see in the present attention given to grape culture, an important and growing industry which, in a few years, will assume proportions of no ordinary nature."
The wine industry in New Mexico declined in the latter decades of the nineteenth century in part due to flooding of the Río Grande. Prohibition in the United States forced many wineries to close, while others remained operational providing sacramental wine to primarily Catholic as well as other Christian churches. The modern New Mexico wine industry received significant support in 1978 when a government-sponsored study encouraged winegrowers to plant French hybrid grape varieties.
New Mexico is a 1951 American western film directed by Irving Reis, starring Lew Ayres and shot in Ansco Color.
Abraham Lincoln himself comes to New Mexico to discuss living together in peace with Acoma, a feared and respective Indian chief. He presents the chief with a cane as a gift and symbol of their friendship.
Lt. Hunt is promoted due to his personal assistance to Lincoln in arranging the truce. Unhappily, a bigoted superior officer, Col. McComb, and the dastardly Judge Wilcox are opposed to any such treaty, and when Hunt states his objection, McComb has him placed under arrest alongside Acoma and a number of Indian braves, also breaking the cane.
Other members of the tribe break them out of jail, killing McComb and others in the process. Hunt takes command and cancels all travel in the region, angering a woman named Cherry who is planning a trip to Nevada. She arrogantly elects to leave anyway, as does Judge Wilcox, so a company of men led by Hunt goes along as escorts.
New Mexico down on Central Avenue
Where the old highway goes running through
And all that I can do ,all that I can do
Is think of you
With someone new
I got a job waiting tables in the middle of the night
See the sunrise in my rear view mirror
Wake up to see the last of its light
But I don't mind, no I don't mind
Because that hot desert sun beating down on this side
of town
Well it ain't a pretty sight
A few old men and some young drunks they'll try to make
a pass
But I just have to look them straight in the eye
And I say please don't even ask
'Cause there's no one who, there's no one who
Can make my tired old life
Seem new and unused
I guess there's always gotta be someone out on the
highway
Laying down all that tar
And there's always gotta be someone serving up the
drinks
Down at the bar
But I don't want to be slaving my life away
If it's just to pay for all the things I never knew
quite how to say
Dirty old blackbird landed on my window sill
I didn't want him to leave so I sat there watching him
perfectly still
Until he finally flew, and when he finally flew
I asked him to cut a hole in the morning sky