A Place of Thin Veil: Life and Death in Gallup, New Mexico, by Bob Rosebrough. Rio Nuevo Publishers, Tucson, AZ, 2022. 352 pages, 138 b/w photos.

When he was a high school student in Farmington, Bob Rosebrough had an experience he couldn’t explain. He was at a school football game in Gallup, looking down at the field, when he felt as if he was being “flooded with light.” Of course he didn’t know at the time that he would end up moving to Gallup, going into law practice, and eventually serving as mayor. Many years later an older ally gave him a clue about Gallup that helped Bob to understand the mystery of the town’s personality and why he had been drawn there.

With its mix of Indigenous, Hispanic, and Anglo residents (the latter including a very diverse group of immigrants), Gallup was in many ways the opposite of Farmington’s “white bread Americana,” Rosebrough writes in his memoir. He was troubled by the death of Navajo activist Larry Casuse at the hands of Gallup law enforcement in 1973, before Bob lived there. As a Gallup resident, he was especially troubled by the legal system that turned a blind eye to profitable alcohol sales and epidemic levels of alcoholism.

During his term as mayor, he pushed local and state elected officials to adopt common-sense alcohol sales policies for Gallup. He promoted outdoor recreation, like bike races, to draw enthusiasts from far and near. His memoir gives a glimpse into the complex people and cultures of northwestern New Mexico without sugar-coating the problems. I learned a lot!

Ramona: What inspired or motivated you to write this memoir?

Bob: I knew I was in for an adventure when I was elected Mayor of Gallup. Initially, I planned to write an insider’s account of my term. I saved copies of documents, took notes, and in some cases, taped conversions and interviews. As my term was winding down, I realized there was a larger story to tell. I felt I needed to also share Gallup’s turbulent history with the reader. I wanted  to convey why I had come to believe that Gallup is a place where the veil between the material world and the spiritual world is thinner and more permeable.

Ramona: You served as mayor of Gallup when?

Bob: 2003 to 2007. It was the best of times, and it was the worst of times—simultaneously and disproportionately wonderful and terrible.

Ramona: I read that Tony Hillerman used you as a character in his mystery The Fallen Man. How did that come about?

Bob: During my rock-climbing days in the late ’80s, I wrote to Hillerman, suggesting that he consider using rock climbing on Shiprock—which is banned by the Navajos—in one of his plots. I thought the topic had danger, conflict between the Navajo and outside worlds, and a stunning landscape, all staples in Hillerman’s plots. He responded quickly with a postcard saying that he liked the idea but was booked up with plot ideas at the time. He got back to me in the mid-’90s, came to Gallup, and then surprised me by including me—by my real name—as a Gallup lawyer who helps Joe Leaphorn solve a murder mystery. My character climbs down to the desk-size summit of Shiprock by a ladder suspended from a helicopter and retrieves a climbing register that contains information that helps solve the mystery.

Ramona: What have your life and work in Gallup been like since you were mayor?

Bob: I’m still working as a lawyer, mountain biking on our trails, roaming the Red Rocks and the Hogback east of town. Being an ex-mayor is a much better gig than being mayor. I love my life here.

Ramona: You led the effort on creating bike trails and competitive biking events when you were mayor. You wanted Gallup to offer these recreation activities to the world and to build tourism. How do things stand with those programs now?

Bob: We have a surprising array of trails for a community of our size, but the crown jewels are the single-track mountain bike trails just east of Gallup in the Zuni Mountains that weave through a forest of ponderosa pines and the 24 Hours in the Enchanted Forest race in July. Our 24-Hour racecourse hosted the national championships in 2013 and 2014. It’s that good.

Ramona: You wrote that the biggest political division in Gallup is between the old guard and the newcomers, and that often newcomers leave when they come up against the brick wall of the old mindset. Now in 2022, do you see any shift in that division?

Bob: Nothing much in Gallup has changed recently, but we seem to have a very enthusiastic wave of newcomers who are organizing and laying the groundwork to push for changes. It will probably be about two or three years before we know how it is going to shake out. They are primarily focused on legislative action. At the moment, I’m more interested in nonviolent social protest.

Ramona: Are the Navajo citizens becoming more proactive on issues affecting them? If so, in what ways?

Bob: One Navajo professional with administrative experience is actively laying the groundwork to run for mayor. He is well organized and very determined. Otherwise, Navajo people continue to be underrepresented in every aspect of government or business in Gallup.

Ramona: I found an online reference that says alcohol can be sold in Gallup from 7 am to 2 am Monday-Saturday and 10 am-midnight Sunday. I understand from your book that the hours were more stringent under an ordinance you got passed. Did the city government revert to the looser hours after you were mayor?

Bob: I proposed legislation by which the state would give Gallup the authority to limit hours, but our efforts were unsuccessful. Our state senator at the time made a backdoor lobbying effort that flipped the governor, who initially supported our proposal. The mayor who followed me was successful in convincing the state to limit sale of package liquor until [after] 10 am. With this sole exception, the hours you mentioned are currently in effect.

Ramona: Have the alcohol sales laws changed in other ways since you were mayor?

Bob: I’m not aware of any other changes. I’ve always been an advocate of enforcement of the “Sales to Intoxicated Persons” statutes and public nuisance suits against problem bars, but there doesn’t seem to be much of a push on those fronts.

Ramona: Your memoir is much more than an account of your professional and political life; you also reach toward deeper meanings and patterns in your life and in the civic life of the city you chose to make your home. I’m most struck by the observation that you and others made that Gallup is a “thin place,” a place of struggle between the forces of good and evil. You had an uncanny experience as a young man in which you almost felt “called” to Gallup. There’s a book (1991) titled The Spirit That Wants Me: A New Mexico Anthology, edited by Dianne Duff, that references this phenomenon. It quotes D. H. Lawrence: “I can’t tell you what it is. It’s a spirit … It’s here, in this landscape … It’s something to do with wild America. And it’s something to do with me … Now I am where I want to be: with the spirit that wants me.”

I’m not sure we can always figure out why we’re called to a place; we just know we are. You decided to answer that call and work to make Gallup a better place. Do you have any regrets now? Is there anything you would do differently? 

Bob: As a kid growing up in Farmington, N.M., I never imagined I would move to Gallup. I had no interest in Gallup. My first visit to Gallup was to attend a high school football game where, for a moment, I briefly felt filled with light and spirit. Thereafter, the universe seemed to be conspiring to lead me here. Like everyone, I have regrets and lists of things I would do differently if I could, but moving to Gallup isn’t one of my regrets—far from it. You say it perfectly when you say, “I’m not sure we can always figure out why we’re called to a place; we just know we are.”

Ramona: Are you thinking of writing another book?

Bob: I’m not sure. I had the seed of an idea for a book a few weeks ago. We’ll see if it grows. The one thing I know for sure is that I won’t write another book unless I get engrossed in a topic that gives me the excuse to meet and interview interesting, exceptional people. That, by far, is what I enjoy most about writing.