A retrospective: Cinco de Mayo pasts (Part 1)

Raising a "monumental" Mexican flag. Monterrey Institute of Technology and Higher Education, Mexico City, CC BY-SA 3.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0>, via Wikimedia Commons.

By the time you read this, you’ve likely eaten a few good tacos, maybe some enchiladas, and if you’re lucky, tamales, all washed down with a Corona or Modelo. The hardest decision to make yesterday? Which of the dozens of Mexican restaurants you should order from. Second hardest: Eat out, or DoorDash. If you’re a true enthusiast, you had to choose between red sauce or green.

It hasn’t always been this way. I grew up in Texas, and Cinco de Mayo wasn’t a “thing” for most of my life. Eating Mexican food, or more specifically, Tex-Mex, yes, that was always a “thing,” for as long as I can remember. Ninfa’s or Felix? Or if you were addicted to a certain, very special candy, then Monterey House. The food at Monterey House may have been awful, but that candy? Nothing like it!

Once Pancho’s opened, we could satisfy our cravings for a pittance. For some of us, Pancho’s chile rellenos and sopapillas defined Mexican food. And there, no hard decisions about red or green sauce: Both! Pancho’s survived competitors’ defamatory claims that they used horse meat. Many a college student breathed a sigh of relief and went back to their weekly Pancho’s all-you-can-eat meal — enough calories to last a week, and oh-so-good. With softserve vanilla ice cream the mandatory after-dinner dessert.

I’ll never forget how shocked I was to learn that Pancho’s was founded and run by a Mexican-American family in El Paso. And that El Pasoans actually ate there. Regularly. Many of us old-time Texans — including those of us no longer in Texas — still grieve the demise of Pancho’s.

But the regular and widespread celebration of Cinco de Mayo is a latecomer. Especially considering how influential Mexican-American culture and food is for so much of the United States. I therefore spent a little time on May 5 digging through old newspapers to understand the evolution of such a popular party. I focused on Texas. Supposedly, California one-upped Texas by holding the first Cinco de Mayo celebration. I therefore wanted to see how long it took Texas to catch up with California.

You may have heard some “journalists” state that May 5 celebrates Mexican independence, that it’s like our Fourth of July. Not exactly. Not even close.

At the same time that the Civil War raged in the United States of America, France and Mexico fought the Second Franco-Mexican War (1861-1867). Benito Juárez’s liberal government had just won a civil war in Mexico, ousting the conservative government. In response, defeated conservatives asked France to help them install a monarchy in Mexico. Napoleon III was more than happy to oblige. He’d long wanted to regain a toehold in the Americas. Allied with the Austrian Empire, France persuaded Archduke Maximilian to serve as monarch of Mexico.

In April 1862, the French engaged Mexican troops in Puebla, Mexico, where Mexican generals Porfirio Díaz and Ignacio Zaragoza had retreated. Zaragoza and Díaz held the high ground, forcing French (and conservative Mexican) troops to fight uphill. Díaz and Zaragoza defeated the French on May 5, 1862 and held that fortification until May 17, 1863. France sent massive reinforcements and defeated Mexican forces in Puebla.

Unable to wage war on two fronts, the USA remained neutral in the French-Mexican conflict. Despite the higher priority of preserving the union, it became clear that should France succeed in Mexico, it would harm the entire North American continent. If France installed a monarchy in Mexico, what would happen to the United States?

On January 19, 1863, Congressional Rep. James McDougall (D-CA) offered the following resolution:

Resolved by the Senate, (the House of Representatives concurring,) That the present attempt by the government of France to subject the Republic of Mexico to her authority by armed forces is a violation of the established and known rules of international law, and that it is, moreover, a violation of the faith of France, pledged by the treaty made at London on the 31st day of October, 1861, between the allied governments of Spain, France, and England, communicated to the Government over the signatures of the representatives of the allies by letter of the 30th day of November, 1861, and particularly and repeatedly assured to this Government through its ministers resident at the Court of France.

Resolved further, That the attempt to subject the Republic of Mexico to the French authority is an act not merely unfriendly to this Republic, but to free institutions everywhere, and that it is regarded by this Republic as not only unfriendly, but as hostile.

Resolved further, That it is the duty of this Republic to require of the government of France that her armed forces be withdrawn from the territories of Mexico.

Resolved further, That it is the duty and proper office of this Republic now, and at all times, to lend such aid to the Republic of Mexico as is or may be required to prevent the forcible interposition of any of the States of Europe in the political affairs of that Republic.

Resolved further, That the President of the United States be requested to cause to be communicated to the government of Mexico the views now expressed by the two Houses of Congress, and be further requested to cause to be negotiated such treaty or treaties between the two Republics as will best tend to make these views effective.

Congress passed that joint resolution fifteen months later. Rep. McDougall did not live to see his resolution adopted. He died in December 1863.

In April 1864, with our civil war in full force, Secretary of State William Seward followed the lead of Congress. He stated: “Nor can the United States deny that their own safety and destiny to which they aspire are intimately dependent on the continuance of free republican institutions throughout America.”

Because it had become increasingly clear that the Franco-Mexican war could explode at any moment into a full-fledged intercontinental world war. Belgium, Austria, Egypt, and Spain all contributed soldiers and personnel to assist France’s war.

Once our civil war ended, the USA once again funded the legitimate Mexican government, putting teeth to U.S. Secretary of State William Seward’s threats and Congressional action. Initially, the USA merely enabled the Juárez administration to purchase US-made munitions and weapons. By 1866/1867, Seward lost patience and openly threatened France with war if they refused to leave Mexico. Southern states supplied Juárez’s troops with rifles and bullets.

The Second Franco-Mexican War would continue until mid-1867. Archduke Maximilian was executed on June 19, 1867. (One irony in this conflict: The archduke had maintained liberal policies, disappointing the conservatives in Mexico who had invited France to invade.)

This war had negative ramifications for France. Prussia had not joined the Austro-Hungarian troops in Mexico. In 1864, Prussia and Austria had allied against Denmark, winning the territory of Schleswig-Holstein away from Denmark. In 1866, Prussia and Austria squabbled over the division of Schleswig and Holstein. In a mere seven weeks, Prussia roundly defeated Austria, upsetting the balance of power in Europe.

In other words, France’s ally lost a seven-week war to France’s biggest rival, Prussia.

Four years later, after France lost the Second Franco-Mexican War, Napoleon III of France challenged that rival in the Franco-Prussian war of 1870/71. France not only lost. Prussia humiliated them. That Franco-Prussian War cemented the status of Otto von Bismarck and put actions in motion that eventually gave us Adolf Hitler:

Bismarck, not Napoleon III, gained a postwar alliance with Russia and the United Kingdom.
The first real attempt at unifying the German empire followed Prussia’s win.
Reparations from this war set up the Treaty of Versailles, in which France sought revenge for the reparations Prussia had demanded of it in 1871.

So what does all this have to do with Cinco de Mayo?

Although Porfirio Díaz and Ignacio Zaragoza’s defeat of French troops on May 5, 1862 was short-lived, to Mexicans who continued to fight the French for the next five years, that victory symbolized the possibility of ultimately winning against a much richer army. It’s not the equivalent of the Fourth of July. Think “Remember the Alamo” or Pearl Harbor remembrances. Díaz and Zaragoza gave Mexicans an uncomplicated day to hang their hats on — before European reinforcements arrived, before the USA supported their cause. Yes, national pride, pure and simple.

California claims to have held the first-ever Cinco de Mayo festivities, supposedly embodying the joint efforts of the Union armies against the Confederacy, and Mexican nationals fighting a better-equipped French enemy. If there was such a thing in 1863, it was not reported in newspapers available through newspapers.com.

From 1862 to 1875 in all US newspapers on newspapers.com, I could only find Cinco de Mayo mentioned as street or building names in Mexico or in Texas towns close to the southern border. In April 1876, the Galveston Daily News reported that a schooner named Cinco de Mayo was delivering Cordova Coffee to that port city. That schooner would be destroyed in August of the same year by a significant hurricane.

May 9, 1876, the Austin Daily Statesman advised that Mexican Consul Manuel Trevino had been fired and Casimoro Castro would be taking his place at the consulate in Brownsville. In a seemingly innocuous comment, the journalist said that General Díaz had nearly raised enough money “to conduct the revolution by voluntary contributions.”

That simple statement hid anguish and torment that would last another thirty-four years. In January 1876, one of the two Cinco de Mayo heroes, General Porfirio Díaz, had overthrown the legitimate Mexican government in a coup. He installed himself as president, with rigged elections every year until 1910.

A rigid authoritarian, Díaz claimed to be for “order and progress.” In reality, his suppression of civil rights in Mexico laid the groundwork for the Mexican revolution of 1910.

It’s therefore unsurprising that the first recorded Cinco de Mayo celebration that I could find was May 5, 1876, after Díaz came to power. That same Austin Daily Statesman article states that Díaz promised to give Monterey, Mexico a “full-blooded Cinco de Mayo.” Since that comment is in the same paragraph as the “revolution” statement, it’s unclear whether Díaz meant that his troops would march on Monterey as part of martial law, or if he was announcing a party. With dictators, they could be one and the same.

By 1877, Cinco de Mayo festivities were firmly established… in Mexico. But not in the USA. May 26, 1877, the Austin American-Statesman finally got around to mentioning the Cinco de Mayo party in Matamoros, across the border from Brownsville. The reporter said there had been firing of salutes, ringing of bells, and a “grand fandango.” After giving a short and surprisingly accurate narrative of the 1862 battle in Puebla, he wrote, “Gen. Zaragoza is regarded as the hero of the Cinco de Mayo. He was poisoned at Puebla during the siege.”

Indeed, Zaragoza remains to this day one of the primary military heroes of Mexico, through all its iterations of government. His death on September 8, 1862 — of typhoid fever, not poisoning — resulted in a state funeral and renaming of a town. In fact, his death caused Mexico’s then-president to make Cinco de Mayo a national holiday. That declaration? September 11, 1862. I don’t know why U.S. newspapers did not carry that story.

The New York Times reported about Cinco de Mayo festivities in 1887 (I could not find an earlier post). That esteemed news organization sent an unnamed female journalist to Tacubaya for that town’s “greatest civic gala day.” In 1887, Tacubaya was still an affluent suburb of Mexico City, with magnificent villas housing political and intellectual elites. The list of famous and infamous celebrities who called Tacubaya home was long. These days, it’s poor, with mansions overlooking homeless encampments and addicts shooting up. Part of Tacubaya is dubbed “the lost city,” featuring cardboard shacks and garbage.

But in 1887, that intrepid reporter was taken by the people, the place, the party. She had learned enough Spanish to communicate, but not enough to be mistaken for a native. Her tour guide tolerated her requests to buy candy and to make detours before she joined her Mexican host family.

“The occasion was much like an American Fourth of July,” she wrote, “and the gathered spectators were the Mexican analogues to the classes usually represented at the corresponding American festival.”

The firing of cannons, singing of songs, waving of flags, parades of schoolgirls, she commented on the “patriotic love and martial enthusiasm” of the spectacle. “Again and again, as if frenzied, did they burst into the loved song of their country, until it seemed as if the music and the words were driving them into a delirium of excitement.”

Our anonymous Times reporter valiantly transcribed much of the speechifying of the day. Poetry, lots of poetry. A memorized speech by a patriotic (i.e., pro-Díaz) attorney. “But lo! The immortal Zaragoza began to hurl thunderbolts and the ever-to-be-remembered Negrete to send forth lightnings, and the invading hosts were crushed and thrown into headlong flight. So carried away with his own eloquence was the young lawyer that at this point he forgot the rest of his carefully memorized oration, and with various efforts to disguise his embarrassment under the pretense of being violently seized with coughing was finally forced to draw forth a rumpled manuscript, from which he read thereafter in a dispirited manner.”

After the mortified attorney took his seat, the reporter noticed a buzz of excitement, something she didn’t understand at first. The closing speaker was Gen. Martinez, a former leader of the Liberal party in Mexico. Although he had fought at the forefront of the Franco-Mexican war, he had been sidelined once Díaz declared himself president. She sensed that the crowd wondered how he would handle his disfavor.

His initial statements placed the blame for France’s invasion on the Catholic Church, which likely made his listeners uncomfortable. The general was clearly “soured, disappointed, and cynical,” but to attack the Catholic Church? No one saw that coming.

Despite his reputation, the crowd was shaken by his next declaration. He “brought his story of national development down to the present with a vigorous denunciation of those retrogressive statesmen now forcing their war into power to the exclusion of the only friends of the people.”

The reporter noticed that Díaz had sent “auditors” to monitor General Martinez’s speech. “They stood patiently under the torrents of words which carried so little meaning to their minds, patiently but stolidly, giving no sign either or approval or dissent. Gen. Martinez realized this perfectly. He expected nothing else. … His speech was not meant for them but for the newspaper organ of his political clique, in which it would appear on the morrow to be read by those who could understand his allusions.”

If that were not enough, Gen. Martinez then introduced Gen. Negrete, whom Díaz had also marginalized. There followed confusion, then confusion about the confusion, then who-knows-what-to-do-now. Finally Gen. Negrete spoke his only words of the day, “Viva el cinco del Mayo, viva Mexico.”

Negrete’s political path had been filled with disappointment. In 1855, he supported liberals against Santa Anna’s dictatorship. Following the ratification of the Constitution of 1857, Negrete defended the new constitution and enforced it. A year later, he abandoned liberal ideals, partnering with conservatives.

When France invaded Mexico, Negrete came out of retirement to fight the very conservatives he had last embraced. His declared his change in political affiliation with the statement: Yo tengo Patria antes que Partido, country before party. He fought under Gen. Zaragoza in Puebla. The French captured him, but after Negrete escaped, Benito Juárez made Negrete Minister of War and Navy.

In 1876, at the age of 51, Negrete endorsed his old war buddy Porfirio Díaz from May 5, 1862, believing Díaz’s claim that no one should have power forever, that this (Díaz’s) would be the last revolution in Mexico. Díaz promised “effective suffrage.” Freedom!

In 1879, three years after Díaz’s rise to tyrannical power, Negrete came out in public opposition to his old friend. He published a manifesto, decrying the authoritarian nature of Díaz’s regime. “At this very moment, public guarantees are being conspired, setting up an electoral farce for the next presidency, in which the people appear as the king of ridicule, in the cowardly supplanting of constitutional suffrage.”

Here, in Tacubaya, in May 1887, so close to the seat of power and yet so far away, Gen. Negrete stood before a confused crowd, Viva Mexico on his lips. His Mexico, not the Mexico that he no longer recognized. The people cheered. And a female reporter from the New York Times bore witness.

As long as Díaz ruled, Cinco de Mayo remained a fixture on the Mexican calendar.

Continue reading: A retrospective: Cinco de Mayo pasts (Part 2).

Comments worth sharing

Excellent history lesson! I checked for remaining Pancho’s Buffet Restaurants in Texas, and there are apparently only four - one in Humble, Fort Worth, Mesquite, and Arlington. What a precipitous drop from the glory days of the 1970s.

I’ll take issue with your opinion on Monterey House food. We can agree that the candy was a thing of wonder, but I thought the Summer Special was haute cuisine. I can still recall the crunchy crack of that tortilla covered in queso. John was a big fan of their cheese enchiladas. Now we need to order some take out Mexican food!

--Gwen Miertschin, May 7, 2025.

Made me laugh - a very good thing indeed! I am surprised that Jack in the Box hasn't added that queso-covered tortilla to their greasy (and wonderful) menu.

I think the four remaining Pancho's are not owned by the same family. They suffered the same fate as Antone's. If someone with a lot of money were smart, they'd pay for the recipes and reopen both.

If you find Original Pancho's -- LET ME KNOW!

--Me, the very same day.

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