LAS CRUCES — Downwinders had a message for the U.S. House speaker on Wednesday: You’re failing people the federal government exposed to radiation and hurting their chance at some measure of justice.
Speaker Mike Johnson (R-Louisiana) attended a private event supporting candidate Yvette Herrell seeking to again represent the 2nd Congressional District in New Mexico, and then for a public event announcing national GOP investment in her campaign and other down-ballot races.
Despite the sun beating down on a stretch of gravel outside Farm and Ranch Heritage Museum, spirits were high for the 30 or so rallying there, many of whom wore shirts bearing slogans directed at Johnson: “Pass RECA before we die,” or “We are the unknowing, unwilling, uncompensated.”
RECA is the Radiation Exposure Compensation Act, which expired in June after decades of offering financial assistance to people harmed by U.S. nuclear weapons development. People in New Mexico were never included among those who could seek compensation despite having been downwind of the world’s first nuclear blast.
Advertisement
A bipartisan push in Congress to expand the program failed. Some advocates are still holding out hope for a bill on Johnson’s desk that could extend and expand RECA.
Bernice Gutierrez, a member of Tularosa Basin Downwinders Consortium board, said she was frustrated that the years of organizing by her group and others is being thwarted.
“One man is holding up this whole process. He’s denying justice to everybody,” Gutierrez said.
Gutierrez was 8 days-old in 1945, when the first atomic bomb exploded at the Trinity Site in the Jornada Del Muerto, just 35 miles from her hometown in Carrizozo, New Mexico. Her family has been plagued by aggressive and deadly cancers, which pushed her into the fight.
Gutierrez said Johnson isn’t just hurting New Mexicans, he’s hurting thousands of people nationwide – in far more Republican House districts than Democratic ones — who would finally receive benefits after radiation exposure from uranium mining and aboveground nuclear tests.
Advertisement
RECA then and now
Johnson has blocked an effort to expand and extend the life of the Radiation Exposure and Compensation Act, over the objections of members of his own party, who represent people exposed to radiation.
S. 3853 would allow thousands of people in Nevada, Arizona, Utah, Montana, Idaho, Colorado, New Mexico, Missouri and Guam — and uranium workers after 1972 — who have suffered diseases linked to radiation exposure to be eligible for compensation. The bill passed the Senate in a 69-30 vote in March.
Johnson’s publicly expressed concerns start and end with the costs of expanding the program.
U.S. Speaker of the House Mike Johnson (R-Louisiana) addresses a crowd of about 100 people in Las Cruces Wednesday to support Republican candidate for the 2nd Congressional District Yvette Herrell. (Danielle Prokop / Source NM)
Since its start in 1990 until the program’s sunset in June, the fund paid out $2.6 billion. The Congressional Budget Office estimated that costs would rise to between $50 billion and $60 billion over the next decade.
While advocates have disagreed on the accuracy of that figure, it’s also only a portion of the estimated $756 billion in spending for the nuclear weapons program between 2023 and 2032.
Advertisement
Time’s run out for the Radiation Exposure and Compensation Act
RECA is a unique fund that paid out lump-sums to people exposed to radiation from decades of nuclear tests or uranium mining before 1972. The program only compensated downwinders in a handful of counties in Arizona, Utah and Nevada.
However, there is a growing nationwide reckoning that radiation exposure has harmed more communities causing rare cancers, diseases and low birth rates.
‘We’ve sacrificed enough’
A call went up among people wearing yellow and black shirts and matching banners — evoking hazmat — as the flashing lights of a motorcade rounded the curve.
“Pass RECA now!” they chanted, as the motorcade carrying the speaker turned the corner, with escorts from federal, local and state police. The people ensconced in black SUVs in the center, had their heads turned away from the signs as they passed.
Advertisement
“I’m a New Mexican. I feel we’re all Downwinders here,” said Joaquin Lujan. He drove from Polvadera, outside of Socorro, to attend.
Lujan, 72, said the failure of the government to expand the program was a shame.
“The Republicans, I don’t know, they’re just not part of la gente,” he said. “That’s why we have to be out here. This is so important to our families.”
Don Meaders traveled from Albuquerque to attend Wednesday’s protest. (Danielle Prokop / Source NM)
Don Meaders, a retired leader in the United Brotherhood of Carpenters, made a cross as part of the message to Johnson, saying it’s unconscionable to not help people exposed to radiation.
“The cross is a symbol of sacrifice, and we’ve sacrificed enough,” he said.
RECA and the election
Members of the New Mexico Democratic party and supporters of Democratic U.S. Rep. Gabe Vasquez joined the Downwinders outside the museum. Some held signs about reproductive rights, which have been curtailed by Republican policies.
Advertisement
While RECA did not explicitly come up during a pair of brief speeches delivered by Herrell and Johnson, it’s become a significant campaign issue in the toss-up of New Mexico’s 2nd Congressional District.
Herrell recently told Source NM she supports expanding RECA fully and would address it with Johnson after Downwinders joined Vasquez for a campaign event last week.
Tina Cordova, the founder of the Tularosa Basin Downwinders Consortium, said that Herrell’s positions on RECA have changed, and if Herrell wants the support of the Downwinders, she would have to do more to champion the cause.
“We requested that she get us a face-to-face meeting — and we’re on the outside, and they’re on the inside,” Cordova said, pointing to the museum up the road.
At a campaign rally for Vasquez in Albuquerque last week, leaders in the Democratic party publicly promised to pass RECA if they take the majority in the House.
Advertisement
“For me, that’s a safety net,” Cordova said.
Both Johnson and Herrell declined to take questions at the campaign event on Wednesday.
Jun. 9—Rita A. Tafoya Rita Tafoya of Albuquerque, New Mexico, passed away on March 14, 2022, at the age of 79. Born on January 16, 1943, Rita lived a full and vibrant life surrounded by love and laughter. Rita was a devoted partner to Jess Tafoya and a loving mother to her two children, Michelle and Le’Anne. She was also a proud grandmother to four wonderful grandchildren, Samantha, Shelby, Sabrina, and Sidney. Rita had a contagious sense of humor that could light up any room. She was known for her quick wit, bold personality, and all around beauty. Rita will be remembered for her warm smile, kind heart, and unwavering love for her family and friends. Although Rita may no longer be with us, her spirit and love will live on in the hearts of those who knew and cherished her. She will be deeply missed but never forgotten. A Memorial Service will be held at French Funerals and Cremations (Wyoming) on June 12, 2025 at 11:30am.
At his home just 5 miles from the recently razed grandstand of the former horse racing track southwest of Santa Fe, Tony Martinez’s mind wandered into the past.
He recalled the names of horses and jockeys from the 1970s — the brigade of swift thoroughbreds raising dust as the finish line approached. Much like the jubilant shouts sweeping through the crowds, they are just memories now, as is The Downs at Santa Fe.
The faded grandstand has been demolished, toppled in the last few weeks to make way for redevelopment plans by Pojoaque Pueblo, which purchased the struggling track in the 1990s and hoped to put it on the map with big races and, later, a “racino” with slot machines that could compete with tribal casinos — including its own operations. Those plans never came to fruition.
Advertisement
The pueblo secured $4 million in state legislative capital outlay this year and $8 million last year to help move forward with new plans for the 320-acre site at 27475 W. Frontage Road just off Interstate 25.
Pueblo officials did not respond to inquiries last week about the project, though a preliminary development plan obtained by The New Mexican indicates a hotel and various types of housing could be in the works, as well as commercial space.
Martinez, a former horse trainer, now 83, is among many longtime patrons who lament The Downs at Santa Fe’s demise and now its disappearance.
“We had some really, really good times at The Downs,” Martinez said. “We really, really miss it. It just gets into your blood.”
Advertisement
Santa Fe horse trainer and racing enthusiast Tony Martinez talks about his days working at The Downs at in the 1970s with his wife, Lou Martinez. A former horse trainer, the 83-year-old Tony Martinez has almost perfect recall for races run at The Downs.
Advertisement
Jim Weber/The New Mexican
‘A sentimental deal’
The towering and long-lonely grandstand at The Downs was a landmark that loomed off I-25 since the early 1970s. Suddenly, almost overnight, it is gone, stirring memories for locals, some of whom stopped in recent weeks to take photographs of the stadium buckling under the pressure of excavators.
It served for a couple of decades as a fixture of entertainment and gambling during its heyday in Northern New Mexico until it closed in the late 1990s, then lay mostly dormant for more than 25 years.
As a music venue, The Downs drew top-dollar musicians, including the Grateful Dead — with fans recalling legendary performances there in 1982 and ’83 — and country star Roger Miller, known for his 1965 hit “King of the Road.”
Advertisement
Plans to revive horse racing at The Downs in the 2000s never took hold, though Pojoaque Pueblo made preparations, smoothing out a massive pile of manure that had angered neighbors and restricted use of the property.
Workmen began screening trash out of the pile in 2008 and spreading manure 4 to 5 inches thick across a 40-acre parcel on the property. The manure was tilled into the soil and native grasses were planted over it.
The site has since hosted soccer matches, flea markets, movie nights, music shows — one festival that epically fizzled — and a fall fest with pumpkin carving and a costume parade. Some 800 people gathered for the Ultimate Gladiator Dash, an extreme sports challenge, in 2014, the same year an equestrian event was staged there — but not for racing. Horses and riders tested their skills in dressage, show jumping and cross-country jumping competitions.
Mostly, The Downs has been empty.
Advertisement
The Downs at Santa Fe circa 1976. Racetrack anticipation burned hot in Santa Fe when the track opened in 1971: So popular was The Downs, a $5.5 million, 1-mile oval track, that on its opening day in June a crowd of 11,000 people lured to the events created traffic jams.
New Mexican archive photo
Members of the horse racing industry in New Mexico cite a suite of reasons why operating venues like The Downs has proved challenging amid increasingly high competition for the “gambling dollar” in the Land of Enchantment.
Advertisement
The racing industry has struggled nationally in recent decades amid what is generally perceived as a dip in interest; slot machines and gambling are keeping many racetracks — which double as “racinos” — afloat.
These days, Martinez and his wife travel to The Downs Racetrack & Casino at Expo New Mexico in Albuquerque to play the horses there, but the experience isn’t the same as what they remember decades ago at their hometown track: Times have changed, and they no longer see people they know.
J.J. Gonzales, another Northern New Mexican involved in the industry who fondly recalls The Downs at Santa Fe, enjoyed a storied career in the sport, winning the All American Futurity — considered to be quarter horse racing’s biggest event — at Ruidoso Downs Racetrack & Casino in 2003.
Once a boy with a talent, he became a licensed jockey at age 16, and he credits Santa Fe with launching his career in the 1990s.
“I won my first race there, and that’s always a sentimental deal right there,” said Gonzales, a native of the community of Sena in San Miguel County. “That sticks to you pretty hard.”
Advertisement
Don Cook, now president of racing at The Downs Racetrack & Casino in Albuquerque, worked at the local Downs from 1988 until it closed in the 1990s. While in Santa Fe, he did about everything there is to do at a track: He was a clocker, a placing judge, a stall superintendent, a director of security.
Don Cook, now president of racing at The Downs Racetrack & Casino in Albuquerque, did about everything there is to do at The Downs at Santa Fe during his tenure there, working as a clocker, placing judge, stall superintendent and director of security.
Advertisement
Jim Weber/The New Mexican
It’s a shame the track closed because it had ample potential and upside, he said.
“It was nicknamed the Saratoga of the West,” Cook said, referring to the famed racetrack in New York state.
“It had a nice, beautiful grass infield, a great view of the mountains. It was a shame it got closed down, but things happen.”
Advertisement
Out of the gates hot
Racetrack anticipation burned hot in Santa Fe in 1971. On opening day in June, a crowd of 11,000 people turned out at the $5.5 million, 1-mile oval track, creating traffic jams.
Stabling facilities were unable to accommodate the volume of horses streaming into Santa Fe, so ran the reports in late May that year.
Ismael “Izzy” Trejo, executive director of the New Mexico Racing Commission, grew up around the track; his father was a horse trainer. He recalled the feeling of euphoria as a child when jockeys gave him their goggles following races.
But the racetrack, run by a company called Santa Fe Racing, began to experience financial difficulties even in its early years — the 1976 racing season was in doubt for a time when debts exceeded $3.5 million, according to reports in The Santa Fe New Mexican.
The Pueblo of Pojoaque acquired the property in the mid-1990s and had big plans to continue horse racing. With events such as the Indian Nations Futurity Cup under the pueblo’s ownership, there was every indication the struggling racetrack could still become a significant place for the sport in the Southwest, Trejo said.
Advertisement
Racing at The Downs in September 1982. The racetrack, run by a company called Santa Fe Racing, began to experience financial difficulties even in its early years — doubt was cast on the 1976 racing season, with debts exceeding $3.5 million, according to reports in The Santa Fe New Mexican.
New Mexican archive photo
Advertisement
In 1997, track officials hoped the Indian Nations Futurity Cup would shower national prestige on Santa Fe, The New Mexican reported. A Pojoaque Pueblo official told a reporter at the time the goal was for the race to put The Downs at Santa Fe back on the map, with an estimated purse of up to $600,000.
“But I think they realized it’s hard to run a racetrack,” Trejo said. “It’s costly. You have to have a lot of employees — assistant starters, jockey valets, racing office staff, stewards, concessionaires, track maintenance people, mutual tellers. You have a whole army.”
The pueblo closed the track in the late ’90s after a few years of ownership, citing millions of dollars in losses.
Cook said, in his opinion, the closure of The Downs at Santa Fe had more to do with a dispute over the number of race days than anything else — with the racers wanting more.
“It was actually closed down over the amount of races the horsemen wanted to run and the racetrack wanted to recall. From what I can recall, it was over one day,” Cook said. “In my opinion, that track would still be there if there wasn’t a fight over a race day.”
Advertisement
Making name in Santa Fe
While the racetrack had its ups and downs in its two decades of operation, it allowed trainers and jockeys in the area to get a strong start on their careers.
Two prominent photographs of J.J. Gonzales appeared side by side in The New Mexican in 1993. Then 16, the young jockey was already turning heads in the sport.
One image shows him riding a quarter horse named Sapello Kid at The Downs at Santa Fe. In the other, he is shown stroking another fleet-footed equine in the barns where his father, James Gonzales Sr., was a trainer.
Ten years later, he would win the All American Futurity in Ruidoso.
Advertisement
Santa Fe horse trainer and racing enthusiast Tony Martinez goes through his scrapbook of winners at The Downs last week. “We had some really, really good times at The Downs,” Martinez said. “We really, really miss it. It just gets into your blood.”
Jim Weber/The New Mexican
Advertisement
About a year after he retired as a jockey in 2008, he began training horses. Now Gonzales and his sons operate a successful stable based in El Paso, known as the Gonzales Racing Stable, and compete in races around the Southwest, including in Oklahoma City and Dallas.
The Downs in the City Different was where many horsemen, especially those from the region, made their name.
“It started right there in Santa Fe,” Gonzales said. “For me, that was a big part of my life growing up.”
Gambling rise takes toll
Meanwhile, the rise of tribal gambling operations in the state in the 1990s created difficulties for New Mexico’s horse racing industry. In 1995, then-Gov. Gary Johnson began signing compacts with various pueblos and tribes, allowing them to open casinos.
When Johnson signed those compacts, “he signed a death knell for racing in this state,” Ken Newton, the former Downs at Santa Fe owner, once told The New Mexican. “Racing can’t compete, even with video slots, against full-bore casino gaming,” he said at the time.
Advertisement
Newton, who died in 2015, sold his interest in Santa Fe Racing to the six other stockholders in 1996; later that year, they sold it to Pojoaque Pueblo.
The casinos would continue to pose challenges for the horse racing industry, which fought for two years for a 1997 law allowing slot machines at up to six racetracks in the state.
Steven Hollahan at The Downs in 1982.
Advertisement
New Mexican archive photo
Casino operations at five tracks — now known as racinos — help subsidize the racing, Trejo noted.
“The competition for the gambling dollar has gotten fierce,” he said.
There were attempts to get a racino license for the track in Santa Fe.
Advertisement
Pojoaque Pueblo sought in 2008 to convince the Racing Commission The Downs at Santa Fe would be the best place to locate what was expected to be the state’s sixth and final racino for at least the next 33 years.
It was one of three in the running.
However, an operator in Raton won the license based on a little-known statute designed to regulate competition between neighboring racetracks — The Downs at Santa Fe was too close, within 80 miles, of the Albuquerque track.
The Racing Commission later revoked the Raton license after the project collapsed following repeated construction delays and persistent questions about its financing, The New Mexican reported in 2018, when the Racing Commission was again considering issuing a sixth racino license. The process faced delays, and a new license was never issued.
A former Pojoaque Pueblo governor had told The New Mexican in 2008 The Downs at Santa Fe was not profitable without slot machine revenue to subsidize the horse racing operation.
Advertisement
Supporting this statement, a 2008 economic impact study of southeastern New Mexico’s Zia Park Racetrack, which opened in 2005 in Hobbs, found casino revenues were the primary source of income for racetracks in the state.
Gamblers’ slot machine losses enrich purses in horse races, according to the study, conducted by the New Mexico Racing Commission.
Competing with casinos
The horse racing industry relies heavily on a pari-mutuel system, which combines bets from racetracks and casinos. It has been in place in New Mexico for more than a quarter-century and has become a significant source of revenue.
New Mexico commercial casinos, or racinos, face considerable competition from the state’s 21 tribal casinos, according to the American Gaming Association, with tribal casinos in the state generating $835 million in casino gaming revenue in fiscal year 2023, an increase of 4.6% from 2022.
“Unlike the state’s racinos, tribal casinos are permitted to offer table games and sports betting in addition to electronic gaming devices,” states a 2024 report from the association about New Mexico.
Advertisement
Maintenance workers grade the track as trainers start to arrive at The Downs Racetrack & Casino last week. The Albuquerque track is one of five “racinos” in the state — Ruidoso Downs Race Track and Casino, Zia Park Casino Hotel & Racetrack in Hobbs, Sunland Park Racetrack & Casino and Sunray Park & Casino in Farmington.
Jim Weber/The New Mexican
Advertisement
Cook, who noted there are few horse tracks in the nation operating without slot machines, highlighted some of the competition in the Albuquerque metropolitan area when it comes to gambling. He said The Downs there competes with an array of casinos on tribal land within a half-hour drive, including Sandia Casino and Isleta Casino.
“There are so many other forms of gambling now that were not around in the ’70s and ’80s,” Cook said.
He thinks only a couple of racetracks in the state would be able to survive without casinos attached — the Ruidoso Downs and The Downs Racetrack & Casino in Albuquerque.
The state has three other racinos aside from those in Ruidoso and Albuquerque: Zia Park Casino Hotel & Racetrack in Hobbs, Sunland Park Racetrack & Casino and Sunray Park & Casino in Farmington.
Advertisement
Trejo said costs associated with the sport have jumped.
“They used to call it the sport of kings, and the amount of cost that the racetracks and the horsemen have to endure just to enjoy the entertainment of horse racing, it’s very expensive now,” Trejo said.
“It’s going full circle to where the common man is having difficulty sustaining in this industry,” he added, “and it’s becoming the sport of kings again — only the wealthy can prevail.”
