The History of Water

By Dr. Francisco Guajardo

In the early 1530s, Spanish explorer Alvar Nuñez Cabeza de Vaca walked through what we know today as the Rio Grande Valley. He wrote, “atravesamos un gran río” (we crossed a great river). Along with experiencing the mighty river, Cabeza de Vaca observed the flora, fauna, and native tribes, describing the region in detail. 

The river was mighty indeed. Later scribes, like Juan Bautista Chapa, the early historian of Nuevo León, marveled at its width, comparing it to the range of a harquebus shot—deadly at up to 400 yards. Chapa also described a fertile river that spawned a forest 10 miles north and south of its banks. In its natural state, the Rio Grande overflowed at least twice yearly, nourishing a thick forest on either side. 

The Escandón Expedition in the mid-1700s echoed the prowess of the river. Escandón's scribes warned of hurricanes and floods, noting that while the river provided fresh water, it was the only viable source. This led them to believe that large-scale agriculture would be unsustainable. 

When Mexico gained independence in 1821, the nation imported French intellectuals to help build its institutions. Among them was Jean Louis Berlandier, a botanist and ethnographer deployed to Matamoros. Berlandier traveled widely across South Texas and northeastern Mexico, surveying plants, animals, and native communities. 

Berlandier described the region's biodiversity and natural richness but also noted the scarcity of fresh water, particularly north of the river. He concluded that the region could not support large-scale agriculture. Like Cabeza de Vaca, he commented on how indigenous tribes, broadly known today as Coahuiltecans, interacted with their environment. They hunted only what they needed, gathered selectively, and used water sparingly. Unlike the Spanish and Anglo-American settlers who sought to control the land, the native people coexisted with it. 

The Spanish settlers largely heeded the wisdom of observers like Escandón’s scribes and Berlandier. Towns such as Revilla, Reynosa, Mier, Camargo, and Laredo grew, with settlers combining small-scale farming with ranching. Large, sprawling ranches covered South Texas north of the porciones, or land grants, that extended from the river. Ranch life shaped South Texas and northeastern Mexico's culture, economy, and politics through the 18th and 19th centuries. 

Then came 1904. 

That year, John Closner won the Gold Medal at the St. Louis World's Fair for the Best Sugar Cane in the World. His success at the San Juan Plantation was due to a pumphouse on the river's northern bank, granting him unlimited water access. The publicity signaled the dawn of a new era—and the birth of the “Magic Valley.” 

In 1904, the railroad also arrived in South Texas. Chambers of commerce formed, land development companies emerged, and trainloads of visitors arrived from the north. Geographers call this phenomenon “place mythology. " In this context, the region became the “Magic Valley.” 

Yet the valley's success relied on abundant water, which required reshaping the land itself. Investors poured money into canals, ditches, and irrigation systems. They imported Washingtonian palm trees from Cuba and the Caribbean, giving the region the appearance of a tropical paradise. This look, along with promises of lucrative farming, was aggressively marketed. 

The problem? There simply wasn't enough fresh water to sustain large-scale agriculture. By the early 1930s, irrigation projects across South Texas and upstream had drained the Rio Grande. The river became so depleted that satirist Will Rogers quipped, “The only river I know that needs to be irrigated is the Rio Grande.” 

Despite water shortages, the region doubled down on its agricultural vision. Large federal projects in the mid-20th century, such as Falcon Dam and La Amistad Dam, supported continued growth, but the water management challenges remained unresolved. 

For over ten thousand years, native people coexisted with their environment. Yet, in the past 125 years, in the name of progress, we have created a complex problem that demands a bold vision to fix. That remains the greatest challenge before us in the Rio Grande Valley.

Scan the QR code to hear the full audio recording by Museum Francisco Guajardo.