Falcon Dam

2025 FRONTeras Magazine Vol. 1 No. 2 Issue

The mighty Rio Grande — or Rio Bravo, as it's called by those who've witnessed its fury - has long shaped life along the border.

Flowing from the Rocky Mountains to the Gulf of Mexico, this river has been a source of life, danger, and division. But it also buried a history few remember.

In the name of progress, entire towns disappeared beneath the waters of Falcon Lake. Families were uprooted, century-old homes abandoned, and a way of life submerged.

Long before it was dammed, the Rio Grande nurtured communities. Native tribes, Spanish colonists, and ranchers relied on its seasonal rhythms. When José de Escandón arrived in 1746, he founded Las Villas del Norte, stretching from Laredo to Brownsville.

These settlements became the heart of Spanish ranching culture, boasting nearly 100,000 head of livestock by the 1800s.

By the early 20th century, the river supported a booming agricultural economy. With fertile soil and sunshine year-round, the Rio Grande Valley became a "Winter Wonderland" for farmers. But the river was fickle — droughts followed by floods put lives and crops at constant risk.

After devastating floods in 1922 and again in 1932, leaders demanded a solution. In 1944, the U.S. and Mexico signed the Water Treaty, creating a joint plan to manage the river. Its centerpiece: a massive dam to regulate water flow and ensure year-round irrigation - Falcon Dam.

Engineers chose a site between Starr and Zapata Counties. The project would control flooding, generate hydroelectric power, and secure water rights - roughly 60% to the U.S. and 40% to Mexico. But it came at a steep cost.

The dam's creation meant one thing for towns like Zapata, Falcon, Lopeno, and Guerrero: erasure. Homes, ranch lands passed down since the Spanish Crown, and historic buildings were all marked for demolition. The original town of Zapata lay directly in the reservoir's path.

Among the buildings lost was the original Zapata County Courthouse, a stone structure that once anchored civic life. The town's central plaza, local schoolhouse, and several historic ranch chapels - some dating back to the 1800s - were demolished or abandoned.

Cemeteries were flooded, their graves relocated in haste or left behind entirely.

Government promises flowed: new homes, sewer systems, paved streets, and irrigated farmland in a "New Zapata" - a resettled version of the town, built on higher ground. But what residents got was heartbreak.

Appraisers — many unfamiliar with generational land — offered insulting sums: $4,000 for homes that would cost $7,500 to rebuild.

Land valued at $1,500 an acre in the Valley was appraised at just $86. And many received nothing, as Spanish land grants were labeled "unclear."

While New Zapata remained unfinished, the waters came anyway. On October 19, 1953, Falcon Dam was officially dedicated by U.S. President Eisenhower and Mexican President Ruiz Cortines. The town wasn't ready. Government buildings were incomplete. Schools lacked desks. Farmland hadn't been replaced.

Then, in June 1954, Hurricane Alice struck.

Torrents of rain filled the reservoir in days. Towns were swallowed. Families scrambled to escape. The Red Cross responded - not the government. Displaced and broke, residents called for help. The government turned its back.

While Mexico rebuilt Guerrero Viejo on higher ground, matching homes "foot-for-foot," the U.S. lagged. Frustration grew. One voice cut through the silence: Father Edward Bastien. The local priest wrote letters and pleaded with leaders like Lyndon B. Johnson - reminding him that Zapata helped secure his Senate win in 1948.

It took 13 years and a court battle for residents to receive anything close to fair compensation. By the mid-1960s, Congress finally approved funds — a small measure of justice, far too late.

Today, Falcon Dam stands as a monument to progress. It has prevented floods, powered communities, and helped build a billion-dollar agricultural industry. It even gave rise to one of the best bass fishing lakes in the country.

But Falcon Dam didn't just bury towns - it disrupted an entire ecosystem. The reservoir altered native fish populations, submerged migratory bird habitats, and permanently changed the flow of the Rio Grande. What was once a dynamic, living river became a controlled body of water serving irrigation schedules, not natural cycles.

Beneath the reservoir lies a forgotten world - cobblestone streets, adobe homes, and lives once vibrant. The government's failure to protect and fairly compensate the people of Zapata County is a dark stain in the name of progress. Their memories, their homes, their history — all lie buried under Falcon Lake.

As we enjoy the benefits of the dam today, we must also remember the price that was paid. Because history, like water, has a way of resurfacing.

@AGÜEDOPÉREZIII

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