Ambassador Ortiz: Lessons from a Life of Service

1: Origins in Santa Fe

Political turmoil and armed violence came into my life before I was two years old. I cannot recall that dramatic event, when my mother and I hugged the floor of a train to dodge bullets as we escaped Mexico City during the Cristero Revolt. That experience presaged what I would sometimes face during my four-decade career in the American Foreign Service, when my official duties placed me in close contact with great world leaders and tyrants and made me a target for terrorist militants and political activists. More than once I found myself in the middle of the overthrow of governments by elements as determined as the Cristeros. I was born in the old St. Vincent hospital on March , , into a family whose various branches have lived in Santa Fe since its settlement in . At the time my father, Frank Valencia Ortiz y Barbero, and mother, Margarita Delgado y García, were living in Mexico City. My father represented an American watch company. He sold watches and clocks in Mexico, the Caribbean, and Central America. It was a very good job. When he first had word that he had a position with the watch company , my father’s mother, doña Alcaria—a very orthodox, old school Spanish matriarch—did not approve of her son leaving New Mexico to go live among Protestants. The company had sent him his train tickets  1 Origins in Santa Fe and an advance of money to travel to Connecticut for training. When he woke to catch the train, however, he found that doña Alcaria had taken all his clothes, hidden his money, and left the house. Fortunately for him, she overlooked his train tickets. So he left his home in spite of his mother’s efforts to keep him there. My father was a very determined man. He was resolute that he would take that job, and he overcame all obstacles in his way. He walked barefoot and in his underclothes to the neighbor’s house to borrow trousers and a shirt. He couldn’t find shoes that fit, but relatives loaned him a few dollars and he made it to the train on time. When he arrived in New York the company advanced money so he could dress himself properly. I didn’t face such hurdles at the start of my career—my parents encouraged me to aim for the stars—but I do think I inherited some of my father’s determination. From Mexico City, my mother traveled home to New Mexico so I would be born in Santa Fe, as was the family tradition. She returned with me to Mexico City when I was still a wee baby. We lived on Calle Lopez, which is very close to the Palace of Fine Arts. Interestingly enough, my ancestors—particularly on Mother’s side—had been traders over both the Chihuahua and Santa Fe trails. Their frequent travels to Mexico had forged a family history and connection with Mexico. (My children have maintained that connection.) I was one year old in  when the Cristero Revolt erupted in Mexico with renewed violence. The Cristeros were Catholics who rebelled because of severe persecution. When their forces attacked Mexico City, the situation became so dangerous that my father put Mother and me on a train for San Antonio, Texas—one of the last trains to leave the city. Mother said we had to lay on the floor to dodge bullets sailing through the train windows. We arrived in San Antonio when I was about a year and a half. Soon afterwards, the big crash of  hit and few people were buying watches or any other luxury items. My father lost his job, so we came back to Santa Fe and settled in a house on de Vargas Street. I began school in  and was educated in the Santa Fe Public Schools through high school, finishing in .  ORIGINS IN SANTA FE In those days the schools of Santa Fe were very good and I had an excellent education. Teachers were strict, formal, and very well trained. Many suffered from respiratory ailments and had come from the Midwest or New England to New Mexico for the dry climate. My parents started me in school early, when I was five-and-one-half years old, which was a problem for me. I was almost two years younger than most of the kids in my...