Fighting Basques

When the Past Reappears: Basque-American Families Travel to Okinawa 81 Years After the Battle 

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by Sancho de Beurko Association

Pedro J. Oiarzabal and Guillermo Tabernilla are the principal investigators of the research project “Fighting Basques: Basque Memory of World War II” of the Sancho de Beurko Elkartea in collaboration with the North American Basque Organizations (NABO). The present article derives from the “Fighting Basques” project.

Oiarzabal received his Doctorate of Political Science-Basque Studies from the University of Nevada, Reno. Over the last two decades, his work has focused on research and consulting on public policies (citizenship abroad and return), diasporas and new technologies, and social and historical memory (oral history, migration and exile), with special emphasis on the Basque case. He is a member of Eusko Ikaskuntza.

Tabernilla is a researcher and founder of the Sancho de Beurko Elkartea, a non-profit organization that studies the history of the Basques of both slopes of the Pyrenees in the Spanish Civil War and in World War II. Between 2008 and 2016 he directed the catalog of the “Iron Belt” for the Heritage Directorate of the Basque Government. He is author, along with Ander González, of Basque Fighters in World War II (Desperta Ferro, 2018).

In recent weeks, one family contacted Sancho de Beurko, a nonprofit historical association based in the Basque Country and responsible for the “Fighting Basques” research project, asking about relatives lost during World War II. Beyond a few names and fragmented recollections, very little about them had survived within the family over the decades.

What followed became an unexpected reminder of how the past can suddenly reappear years later — reconnecting people with stories, places, and lives that had slowly faded over time.

That same process will soon bring to Okinawa (Japan) relatives of six Basque-American servicemen who died during and after the Battle of Okinawa, who will participate for the first time in Okinawa Memorial Day — Irei no Hi (慰霊の日) — on June 23, 2026.

Dr. Pedro J. Oiarzabal, lead researcher of “Fighting Basques,” will attend on behalf of Sancho de Beurko Association and the North American Basque Organizations, Inc. (N.A.B.O.).

The six Basque-American servicemen connected to Okinawa were: Lawrence Amoriza, Alejandro Itcea, Dominique Laxague, Felix Ordoquihandy, Steven Sahargun, and Joseph Uriola.

Eighty-one years after the battle, the journey represents far more than a commemorative trip. For the families, it is a chance to visit the place where their relatives’ lives ended abruptly, bringing personal history into direct contact with one of the most important sites of remembrance and reconciliation associated with World War II.

Held annually at the Cornerstone of Peace, Irei no Hi commemorates the end of the Battle of Okinawa — the final major campaign of World War II and one of its deadliest — and honors more than 240,000 people who perished during the campaign, including over 14,000 Americans and at least 100,000 Okinawan civilians whose names are memorialized at the site.

From Remembrance to Human Connection

The origins of this journey go back to December 2023, when Dr. Pedro J. Oiarzabal traveled to Okinawa on behalf of Sancho de Beurko and N.A.B.O. to pay tribute to Basque-American soldiers who died in the Pacific Theater during World War II.

That initial visit, carried out within the framework of the “Fighting Basques: Memory of World War II” research project, marked the beginning of an ongoing relationship with the institutions connected to Okinawa’s Peace Memorial Park and the Cornerstone of Peace.

Over time, what began as an act of remembrance gradually evolved into something much broader and more human.

People reconnected with relatives whose stories had vanished. Forgotten personal histories resurfaced. New connections also emerged between Okinawa, the Basque Country, and the Basque-American diaspora.

As part of this ongoing work, one of the six servicemen, U.S. Marine Corps Corporal Felix Ordoquihandy, whose name was not yet included at the Cornerstone of Peace, will be formally inscribed ahead of the June 23 commemorations. In addition, the inscription of another serviceman, U.S. Army Private First Class Alejandro Itcea, will be updated to ensure that his name is accurately represented at the memorial.

This year’s participation in Irei no Hi will also mark the first formal Basque presence at one of the world’s most important annual commemorations dedicated to peace, remembrance, and reconciliation. During their stay in Okinawa, Dr. Oiarzabal will also participate in gatherings and conversations centered on diaspora, historical memory, and the human connections that continue to emerge more than eight decades after World War II.

Six Young Lives 

They were not a group brought together by design, but by circumstance — and by war.

Lawrence Amoriza, Alejandro Itcea, Dominique Laxague, Felix Ordoquihandy, Steven Sahargun, and Joseph Uriola.

Six Basque-American soldiers whose lives ultimately converged in Okinawa.

Five of them were sons of Basque immigrants who had arrived in the United States in the early decades of the 20th century to build new lives in the American West. The sixth was a grandson of immigrants. Their families came from both sides of the Basque Country — Bizkaia and Nafarroa in the south, Nafarroa Beherea and Zuberoa in the north. 

They grew up in California and Idaho, in farming communities, ranches, and small towns shaped by migration and hard work.

Four served in U.S. Army infantry units. Two were Marines of the 5th Regiment of the 1st Marine Division — one of the most heavily engaged units in the Pacific.

Some had already seen combat across the Pacific — from the Aleutians to Kwajalein, Leyte, Tarawa, and Saipan. Joseph Uriola, from Boise, Idaho, had already fought in multiple campaigns and was awarded the Bronze Star for saving the life of a fellow soldier. Steven Sahargun, from Bakersfield, California, had taken part in some of the most intense battles of the war before arriving in Okinawa. 

Felix Ordoquihandy, a Marine from San Francisco, survived fierce combat in the Pacific, including Okinawa, but did not die in battle. Instead, he died in a tragic accident at sea after the fighting had ended. His body was never recovered.

Others, however, arrived in Okinawa with no prior combat experience.

Dominique Laxague, Lawrence Amoriza, and Alejandro Itcea were part of a replacement sent directly from training into one of the most brutal battlefields of World War II.

For them, Okinawa was their first battle.

And their last.

On average, they were just over 21 years old when they died.

Among them were Lawrence Amoriza and Alejandro Itcea — two of the youngest and least experienced, whose stories help us understand the lives behind these six names.

Lawrence Amoriza

U.S. Marine Corps Private Lawrence Amoriza served with Company A, 1st Battalion, 5th Marine Regiment, 1st Marine Division. (Photo courtesy of the Amoriza family).

Lawrence Amoriza was born in 1925 in Pocatello, Idaho, to Basque immigrant parents from rural Bizkaia. His father, Tomás “Thomas” Amoriza Zubero, arrived in the United States in 1916 at the age of eighteen. His mother, Asunción Guerricagoitia Bengoechea, followed a few years later. Like many Basque families of that generation, they built their lives through agricultural labor — first as sheepherders, later as farm workers.

When Lawrence was still a child, his mother passed away. His father moved the family west to California, where they continued working the land. 

By the early 1940s, Lawrence was already working alongside his father and siblings.

At 18, he was drafted into the U.S. Marine Corps. By April 1945, he was already in Okinawa, serving with the 1st Marine Division. 

On May 1, 1945, Lawrence was killed in action while his unit was engaged in heavy fighting in the Awacha (Ahacha) Pocket, south of the town of Ahacha (安波茶). 

He was 19 years old. 

His brother, Thomas, had joined the U.S. Army Air Forces in 1943 and was honorably discharged in 1946. He would survive the war.

Alejandro Itcea

U.S. Army Private First Class Alejandro Itcea served with Company E, 306th Infantry, 77th Infantry Division. (Photo courtesy of the Itcea family).

Alejandro Itcea was born in 1922 in Walnut, California, to Basque immigrant parents from Nafarroa. His father, Pablo Itcea Ariztia, arrived in the United States in 1911. His mother, Paulina Zualet Ithurria, followed in 1920.

Alejandro grew up working on the family’s cattle ranch and barley farm. He graduated from La Puente High School in 1942. He was engaged, and like many others of his generation, his life was soon interrupted by war.

In 1944, Alejandro enlisted in the U.S. Army. 

Soon after, he was sent overseas — first to Hawaii, then to Saipan, and finally to Okinawa.

On May 30, 1945, after being wounded in combat during prolonged fighting under harsh conditions, Alejandro died of his injuries. 

He was 22 years old. 

Alejandro was posthumously awarded the Bronze Star.

What Remains After Okinawa

What will take place in Okinawa this June is not simply a commemorative event tied to the past.

In many ways, it reflects something much deeper: the enduring human need to reconnect names with lives, families with their past, and history with the people who continue carrying those memories forward across generations.

For the relatives of these six Basque-American servicemen, the journey to Okinawa represents far more than a formal ceremony. It means standing in the place where their loved ones spent the final moments of their lives — transforming distant family stories into something tangible and profoundly personal.

But Okinawa also speaks to something larger.

Over the past decade, the “Fighting Basques: Memory of World War II” research project, developed by Sancho de Beurko and carried out in collaboration with N.A.B.O., has identified more than 2,160 men and women of Basque descent who served in the U.S. Armed Forces and Merchant Marine during World War II.

The six servicemen connected to Okinawa are part of that much broader history — one shaped by migration, war, sacrifice, family separation, survival, and remembrance over time.

In that sense, Okinawa is not an isolated chapter. It is part of a much longer process centered on recovering, preserving, and bringing visibility to personal histories that risk disappearing over the years.

That same spirit continues today through the future National Basque WWII Veterans Memorial planned in Gardnerville, Nevada — the first national memorial in the United States dedicated to Basque and Basque-American World War II veterans. 

Separated by thousands of miles, the Cornerstone of Peace in Okinawa and the future memorial in Gardnerville ultimately share the same essential purpose: ensuring that the lives behind war are never reduced to statistics, dates, or forgotten names. 

As families prepare to gather in Okinawa in a few days, what remains most meaningful is perhaps not only the act of remembrance itself, but the realization that these stories continue to matter because they remain connected to real people and lived experiences.

Making the National Basque WWII Veterans Memorial a reality will ultimately depend on the continued support of families, organizations, institutions, and individuals committed to preserving the stories and legacy of this generation into the future.

Those interested in supporting the project can contribute here:👉 https://my.cheddarup.com/c/national-basque-wwii-veterans-memorial/items

People, Remembering Dad

Goian Bego Tia Rosario

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On Saturday, June 6, 2026, my dad’s sister Rosario Uberuaga Zabala died. She was on her balcony, tending her flowers, when she was struck by a heart attack.

I first met Rosario in 1991, when I went to live in the Basque Country. Like most of dad’s family, I never knew her growing up. I was only vaguely aware she even existed. I think I’ve said this before, but in those days travel and even phone calls were too expensive and dad simply didn’t interact with this family much. And when he did it was always in Basque and always him maximizing his time talking with them. But, when I went to the Basque Country, I got to know Rosario and the rest of dad’s family, and they became a big part of my adult life. Over the now many years since I first met her, Rosario became one of the center pieces of what the Basque Country is for me.

All her life, Rosario worked and worked hard. When I first knew her, her husband had just died only a year before. She was a young widow that now had two young kids and a bar to manage. Nestled in the hills just outside of Amorebieta, Autzagane – the small barrio where her bar was – became one of my haunts. Rosario was always bustling, whether behind the bar or in the kitchen. In the same breath, she would bark a commanding order that showed she was in charge but flash a brief smile that revealed the kind and playful side that was always beneath the surface. She wasn’t a tall woman but her presence filled the room, demanding attention from everyone. Not being able to speak much Spanish and even less Basque, I often just sat in the dining room, which was always full of patrons, watching the embers in the massive fireplace that seemed perpetually lit as they shifted colors and threw off sparks. Many of my hours in the Basque Country were filled with waiting as others simply did their jobs and lived their lives, but it helped me build patience and be comfortable with myself and my own interior headspace.

Some years later, Rosario retired and threw a massive party to celebrate closing the bar. There was a band and literally hundreds of people who came to honor and celebrate Rosario. Next to the bar, she had been able to build two chalets, a testament to her hard work and the success she had achieved. But, just because she had retired, she never stopped working. When her mom – my amuma – couldn’t live on her own at the family baserri, she went to live with Rosario. And so did Tio Joe, when he also needed extra help. Rosario was the rock of the family. She became the one who took in the elders of the family, and watched over them. And sometimes they acted more like children than adults. She had to act the mother for Tio Joe, who was climbing ladders and trimming shrubs at the age of 90 like he was 20 or 30 years younger. But she made him feel at home, where he could tend the chickens and rabbits and keep his hands dirty.

All those years of working on her feet, of being there for everyone else, certainly took their toll. She had her aches and pains, but she hid them, always putting others first. She was always thinking of everyone else. One trip, we stayed at her place which had these cold tiles decorating the main living space. Lisa was walking around with socks and got an earful that she would get sick because she didn’t have her slippers on. Socks were simply not enough. She was so concerned that Lisa would get sick that she kept badgering her until Lisa caved and wore some house slippers. As we sat in her dining room at the end of the day, she pulled out a simple treat – bread and chocolate – and opened a whole new world of dessert for us. That little treat was almost a mirror of Rosario – a simple, rough exterior that hid so much goodness.

Rosario always had this gruff demeanor but there was always a twinkle behind her eyes. She was always teasing me – always throwing broncas – particularly when my Spanish didn’t quite convey what I intended. But there was always that twinkle that betrayed the immense heart and kindness that lay behind her rough exterior. In many ways, she was a reflection of my dad – someone who had always worked hard to the detriment of their own health but who was always there for everyone else.

Rosario was 77. My Basque Country will not be the same without her.

Basque Fact of the Week, Euskadi, Food

Basque Fact of the Week: The Experimental Potato Farm of Iturrieta

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This one will maybe resonate more for those from Idaho. Idaho is famous for potatoes and there his a lot of research in the state devoted to the potato – for example at the University of Idaho. Other places also have such efforts, including in the Basque Country where the Experimental Potato Farm of Iturrieta has been developing new types of potatoes since the 1930s. Their most recent potato, called Atsegiñe, promises to impact the potato chip industry with a purple potato that is great for frying.

Atsegiñe, the new bicolor potato developed in part at the Iturrieta Potato Farm. Photo from NEIKER.
  • Iturrieta is an experimental farm in the province of Araba. It was first mentioned in the historical record around 1563, but by then the village had already been abandoned. It is also the home of many megalithic monuments, attesting to an even older history.
  • In 1933, the Spanish government decided it needed to increase the agricultural productivity of the province of Araba. At the time, potato yields in Spain had declined over many years. Then, it wasn’t clear why – people simply said that “the soil got tired” – though now we know that it was because of potato viruses.
  • One José María Díaz de Mendívil led the effort to improve agricultural output. Iturrieta was chosen as the location for an experimental farm dedicated to improving potatoes because of its higher altitude. The idea was that the higher altitude would lessen the chance of infection by viruses. In fact, Díaz de Mendívil and others had toured the country researching potato production and realized that higher altitudes helped with potato cultivation. Iturrieta sits at just over 3000 feet. The farm’s development was suspended due to the civil war but began operation in 1948. Officially called Estación de la mejora de la patata it is better known as the Granja de Iturrieta, or the Iturrieta Farm.
  • The original farm had 41 varieties of potatoes collected from all over Europe. Over the course of its history, the farm has led to several new varieties of potatoes. The first, called Eminencia, was developed in 1950 though that variety has since been lost. By the 1970s, the farm had developed some 15 varieties of potatoes that then dominated the Spanish market.
  • Since 2022, the farm has been operated by NEIKER, the Basque Institute for Agricultural Research and Development. They continue to develop new strains of potatoes, including Beltza in 2021 and Edurne in 2023.
  • Most recently, the Iturrieta Farm and NEIKER developed the Atsegiñe potato. Meaning pleasant or tasty in Euskara, the Atsegiñe potato is special in that it is a bicolor purple potato that can be used for colored potato chips, for example, and that it retains its crispiness without the same amount of sugar, which means that it also retains its flavor more after frying. It also has a high amount of antioxidants. Finally, it is also more resistant to blight and viruses.
  • Since the farm was created, a few other things have popped up around it, including a church, a monument to the potato grower, and even a txoko where they prepare, amongst other things, potatoes…

A full list of all of Buber’s Basque Facts of the Week can be found in the Archive.

Primary sources: Atsegiñe, the bicolor Basque potato with 30% more antioxidants by Luis Lazaro Leo, Modernet Digital; Iturrieta, Wikipedia; Un breve repaso a la historia no escrita de la patata de siembra en España by Amaia Ortiz Barredo, Interempresas; Entre Iturrieta y el valle de Arana by Txema G. Crespo, El País

Remembering Dad

Remembering Dad by Telling His Stories

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Today would have been dad’s 82nd birthday.

Dad came to the United States when he was 18 years old to be a sheepherder. But, when I was growing up, I knew him as a truck driver, hauling hay to the local dairies. He started out working for his childhood friend Felix Anchustegui, also from Munitibar, but later bought one of Felix’s trucks to start his own business. A one-truck, one-man show, though dad did hire help from time to time. Dad started off by just charging for delivering hay but after a while he and mom decided that more money could be made if he was more than just the delivery man; if he actually bought and sold the hay, he could also make a profit as the middle man, finding hay for the buyer and selling it for more than he bought it. That worked for a while, and they were doing quite well until a couple of dairymen went bankrupt and didn’t pay dad for the hay he had sold them. The business essentially lived paycheck to paycheck and didn’t really have anything in the bank to weather such a hit. That put mom and dad into what he always called his “big shit hole” that he never quite got out of. 

Dad and Mack, Christmas 2013. Photo by Lisa Van De Graaff.

His truck dominated my childhood. It was ever-present, this massive beast that was always parked on the street in front of the house. It dwarfed everything around it, especially when it was loaded with hay. My brothers and I would climb the haystacks and run around on top. We would have races to see who could climb to the top the fastest. I wasn’t the strongest climber, so sometimes I would have to climb against the backstop of the cab. But, while dad’s truck was the main source of income for the family, it was also our playground. It’s a miracle we all survived. Whenever dad would take us on the road to the haystacks, he would lift us up with the grabber on his tractor to the top of the stack to untie the ropes. We just sat on the end, no ropes or anything, as he lifted us up. It was always the highlight of going with him, just feeling so daring, sitting on the grabber with my legs dangling in the air.

Dad could drive that truck anywhere, maneuvering his truck like mere mortals like me drive our car. It was a double trailer with one hitch – the first trailer was attached to the cab. I’m sure there is a special name for this type of truck but I don’t know it. Anyways, dad would navigate it down remote dirt roads to get to the haystacks and between barns and fences to unload. He could back that thing up as easily as a four-wheeler. And he was just as good with the tractor, using the grabber to adjust the bales of hay, tightening them so that he could grab them more easily and make a more stable stack. The things he could do with both was just amazing.

Dad never listened to music or the radio when driving, but the chatter from the CB radio was constant. He never said much – once in a while, if there was another Basque, they would chat – but mostly he just listened. There were always people telling stories, or warning people of accidents or cops ahead. Dad was a master at avoiding the weigh stations as he was always pushing the limits of what he was allowed to haul. All of the truckers would tell each other which weigh stations were open and routes around them. Dad got his share of tickets, but it could have been a whole lot more.

My daughter, dad, and me, Christmas 2013. Photo by Lisa Van De Graaff.

Dad liked to be at the haystack by dawn so that he could maximize the amount of daylight he had to work. That often meant getting up too damn early. I remember him waking me up at 3 or 4 in the morning. We would sometimes stop at a gas station to get some sandwiches or pop – in those days, my drink of choice was Mountain Dew. Dad let me sleep in the passenger seat while he drove in the dark, often several hours, to the stack. And he worked all day, usually getting home long after dark, often after we had eaten dinner. They were long days and I know they took their toll.

Dad only had the one truck and it was a Mack. A flat nose cab with the Mack statue sticking out the front. That little dog embodied the truck, gave it an identity. When he had his heart transplant and had to stop working, dad eventually sold the truck. I’m sure it must have been hard for him as it was almost an extension of him. He probably spent more time sitting in that truck than he did at home. For Christmas, my wife, daughter and I designed and created a little wooden bowl with a Mack bulldog centerpiece – it was one of the first pieces I made on my father-in-law’s lathe. When dad opened it up, his eyes gleamed as he exclaimed “Mack!” Lisa described it as greeting an old friend. It wasn’t much but it was the perfect gift. He had it on his side table and would store his loose change and small pocket knives in the bowl. After he died, I got it back and it sits on my desk, a constant reminder of dad and his truck. 

Happy birthday dad. I miss you.

Thanks to Lisa Van De Graaff for inspiring me to write this and reminding me that today was dad’s birthday. I am sad to think that I got too distracted by work and other things to remember myself. 

Basque Fact of the Week, Diaspora, Fiestas, History

Basque Fact of the Week: Elko and the National Basque Festival

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The season of Basque festivals in the western United States is upon us. All across the west, Basque clubs and communities hold celebrations of Basque culture and history, recognizing their ancestors who braved unknown lands to build a better life for themselves. Elko, Nevada, hosts one of the largest Basque festivals in the country, second only to Boise’s Jaialdi. It is also one of the oldest. If you are looking for Basque flavor this summer, check out Elko!

A billboard advertising the National Basque Festival held annually in Elko. Photo by Joseba Etxarri, found on Euskal Kultura.
  • Elko sits in the northeast corner of Nevada. At one time it was the eastern most part of the California-Utah portion of the first transcontinental railroad. Thus, its roots as a settlement date back to 1868. When the railroad crews left, the settlement remained and grew into modern day Elko. The city was officially incorporated in 1917. Today, Elko boasts a population of just over 20,000 people.
  • Perhaps the first Basques in the region were Bernardo and Pedro Altube, two brothers from Onati, Gipuzkoa. Having already established themselves in California, they drove 3000 head of cattle to a new ranch in Independence Valley, near what is now Elko. Within a few years they operated one of the largest cattle ranches in Nevada. About the same time, Jean and Grace Garat also moved their cattle operations from California to Elko, creating the Y-Par Ranch.
  • It was only in 1900 that the Altube brothers introduced sheep. Before that, Basques were cattlemen and women. However, it wasn’t long until the sheep industry exploded and by early 1900s there were one million sheep in Elko County. This afforded new opportunities for Basques who were prized as sheepherders. Ranchers such as John Taylor hired many Basques as sheepherders.
  • It wasn’t long until other local ranchers complained about the Basque herders, how they over grazed, sent money home instead of investing it locally, and didn’t become citizens. This led some of these herders to buy land and become citizens.
  • Basques also established ranching adjacent businesses such as boarding houses, hotels, and stores. For example, Pedro Jauregui and Guy Saval (Zabalbeascoa) built the Telescope Hotel which boasted a fronton. In 1910, Jauregui and his wife Matilde built the Star Hotel. The Overland Hotel was built in 1908 by Gregoria and Domingo Sabala. More hotels followed. And, in 1936, Joe Anacabe started Anacabe’s General Merchandise Store.
  • Since 1963, Elko has hosted the National Basque Festival, though the very first festival was held in nearby Sparks. Like many Basque festivals, it features rural sport and weight lifting/carrying competitions, dancing, and food. This year they celebrate the 62nd anniversary of the festival, which will be held July 3-5. Organized by the Elko Euzkaldunak Club, it is one of the oldest and longest running Basque festivals in the United States.
  • Elko Euzkaldunak Club, or the Elko Basque Club, itself started only a few years before. The first meeting of interested parties was in 1959. Elections were soon held and Johnnie Aguirre was elected the first president of the club. And it wasn’t long before they began organizing the celebrations that would become the National Basque Festival.
  • In 1966, Joe Anacabe started the Elko Ariñak Dancers, a Basque dance group that still exists and continues to dance at festivals all over the country.
  • Elko even had their own Basque-language radio program. Led by Jesús Lopategui, it shared news from the Basque Country and Basques from the United States, including notices of births, deaths, and marriages. They also transmitted Catholic masses in Basque.

A full list of all of Buber’s Basque Facts of the Week can be found in the Archive.

Primary sources: Elko Euzkaldunak Club; Elko, Nevada, Wikipedia; The Basques of the Great Basin: Elko, Nevada by Gloria Pilar Totoricagüena, Eusko Ikaskuntza

Basque Fact of the Week, People, Sports

Basque Fact of the Week: Txikita de Anoeta, Erraketistak

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Last week I wrote about the women Erraketistak, professional racket ball players that were pioneers in the world of women’s sport. One of the very best to ever play was Maria Antonia Uzkudun, also known as Txikita de Anoeta. She began playing professionally at the age of 13 and had a stellar career that took her across Spain and to Mexico and Cuba until her retirement in 1967.

Txikita de Anoeta with her racket and students from the racket school at the fronton in Madrid. Photo from La Hora.
  • Maria Antonia Uzkudun Amunarriz, professionally known as Txikita (or Chiquita) de Anoeta, was born in 1927 in Anoeta, Gipuzkoa. Not much is known about her childhood (or at least, I couldn’t find much). She was born in a baserri and as a child she played handball in her hometown. In fact, she always had a pelota – or ball – in her pocket so she could play whenever she got a chance. She was the youngest of 13 children.
  • In 1941, at the age of 13, she was playing the pala variety of pelota – or better said, a version using a tennis-like racket instead of the wooden ones often seen – professionally, making her debut in the city of Salamanca. In fact, she falsified her vital records, lying about her age, so that she could begin playing, as the minimum age to play professionally was 14. This was only a few years before the Spanish government banned new licenses for professional women racket players.
  • In Salamanca, she earned a monthly salary of some 1000 pesetas, which was remarkable considering that the average salary for a professional player was 300-400 pesetas. However, she only stayed in Salamanca for 6 months before moving to Madrid where she played much of her career. By 1946, she was making 500 pesetas per match.
  • Her career took her around the world, playing all over Spain as well as in Mexico and Cuba. She ended her career in 1967 at the age of 40, retiring in Madrid, where she died in 2008.
  • Txikita de Anoeta was considered one of, if not the, best players in the world. She played the back position, but sometimes played by herself against a pair of opponents.
  • She rose to international fame. In Mexico, she was often called upon to present awards and prizes, ranging from horse races to literary awards. When she went to Mexico, she was met at the airport by a mariachi band – in the words of her daughter, she was “sort of a diva.”
  • Despite the negative view Franco’s government had of women’s sport, she was still awarded the Medal of Sporting Merit. This was but one of many accolades she received. She was on the cover of many magazines and publications. She was so famous that a pasodoble was composed in her honor, which described her game as a blend of “grace with emotion.”

A full list of all of Buber’s Basque Facts of the Week can be found in the Archive.

Primary sources: “Ama de casa de día, raquetista de tarde”: la increíble historia de unas “adelantadas a su época” by Iñigo Corral, El Confidencial; Txikita de Anoeta pionera de la pelota vasca, Onda Cero; El debut de ‘la Messi de los frontones’ by Roberto Zamarbide, La Gaceta; Maria Antonia Uzkudun, Wikipedia

Basque Fact of the Week, History, Sports

Basque Fact of the Week: The Erraketistak, or Professional Women’s Racket Players

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While women have played sport for as long as humans have existed, it is only recently that that they have had the opportunity to play professionally, to make sport a career. In the early 1900s, women, primarily from the Basque Country, pioneered a professional league of racket ball that at one time dominated the professional sports world of Spain. These women, often from rural areas, were able to establish a lucrative life. However, stigmas associated with playing professional sport often led to their stories being erased.

A group of racket players in Donostia in 1938. Photo from Wikipedia.
  • While the idea of professional women’s racket ball had precedent, it didn’t take off until Luciano Berriatua and former pelota player Ildefonso Anabitarte created a school and league for the sport. The first fronton with a cadre of permanent professional players opened in Madrid in 1917. It was a huge success, particularly because of the high quality of play and the ease the sport made it to gamble on matches.
  • The game was adapted from the traditional pelota played in frontons across the Basque Country. Women used a strung racket much like a tennis racket but the ball was the heavier leather ball often used in pelota. To withstand the heavier ball, the racket was double strung.
  • To ensure the high quality, women trained for a year before becoming professionals. They had to foot the bill for the training and lodging themselves. This devotion to quality mean that matches were highly competitive and full of drama, attracting an adoring and dedicated public.
  • At one time, the number of professional women racket players was greater than the number of men playing professionally – in excess of 700 women were playing in 1943. At its peak, it was the most watched sport in Spain.
  • After the Spanish Civil War, women playing professional sports was discouraged and bans were pursued in some cases. It was deemed unfeminine to play sport. In Spain, to play professionally, one had to obtain a license from the government. Franco’s government stopped issuing these licenses in 1944. New licenses weren’t granted until 1957.
  • This led many women to leave Spain and instead play in places like Mexico, Brazil, and Cuba.
  • These women were pioneers, not only for women’s professional sport, but professional sport more broadly. They were the first athletes to contribute to Social Security and had rights recognized even before men’s soccer players. They made significant money for the time – their salaries met or exceed that of the highest government officials – and were at the top of the professional sporting world.
  • The stigma associated with playing professional sports meant that many of these women never talked about their experiences. They had already had to endure hardship in leaving their families to play, something many of their families disapproved of. And they rarely spoke about it even with their spouses. There were accusations that these women paraded themselves on the fronton for the enjoyment of men and thus, while they were pioneers in their field, they were somehow viewed as anti-feminist. Indeed, a leading Catholic magazine of the time wrote “We have a collection of unfortunate women who exhibit themselves in public for a salary, to promote, to a larger extent, the fatal vice of gambling among men.”
  • Further, their relationship with Basque nationalism is complicated. While they were pioneers of professional sport, and played a variant of Basque pelota, they were viewed as something outside of tradition: their sport wasn’t a true Basque sport. And men dominated the story of Basque nationalism with little room for women. This plus the stigma associated with women playing sport meant that much of their history was lost until recently, with new efforts to promote their pioneering role in women’s sport and society more broadly. The site Raketistak has profiles of players and history of the sport, while this Youtube video has interviews with some of these women.

A full list of all of Buber’s Basque Facts of the Week can be found in the Archive.

Primary sources: Erraketista, Wikipedia; González Abrisketa, Olatz. “Basque women on court: The success, repression, and oblivion of professional racket pelota players in Spain, 1917–1980.” The International Journal of the History of Sport 35, no. 6 (2018): 554-574.

Books, Diaspora, History

Basques of the American West by Richard Etulain

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A while ago, I wrote about Jon Bilbao and his pioneering work Amerikanuak. Richard Etulain has just published Basques of the American West, which brings new perspectives to the Basques that helped shape the history of the western United States. It also explores newer topics such as the history of Basques in places such as Washington state.

Basques of the American West
New and Collected Essays on History and Ethnicity

Richard W. Etulain

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Basques of the American West: New and Collected Essays on History and Ethnicity brings together new and previously published work by Richard W. Etulain, blending historical analysis and literary criticism to explore the lives, stories, and representations of the Basques in this region. The essays examine key figures such as Robert Laxalt and Frank Bergon; survey historical studies, memoirs, and novels; and trace evolving interpretations of Basque identity in Western literature and scholarship. Etulain highlights major trends in both Basque and Western American historiography while identifying important topics that remain open for additional research.

This collection offers readers a thoughtful and engaging look at the enduring presence and influence of Basques across the cultural and historical landscape of the American West.

AUTHOR/EDITOR BIOGRAPHY

Richard W. Etulain, PhD, is professor emeritus of history at the University of New Mexico. He studied at Northwest Nazarene College in Idaho and received his graduate degrees from the University of Oregon. He was a Fulbright Lecturer in Ukraine and taught at the University of the Basque Country. Etulain is an author or editor of more than sixty books and has served as the president of both the Western History and Western Literature Associations.

Basque Fact of the Week, Euskadi

Basque Fact of the Week: Why is there a Hole in the Middle of Araba?

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Back in March, we took a quick trip to the Basque Country to see family. On the way, we had stopped at Burgos, just to see a new place. We were talking about Burgos when a friend said he had passed through Burgos when he participated in Korrika, the massive race in support of the Basque language. At first, we were a little confused – why would Korrika pass through Burgos – until they pointed out the big hole in the middle of Araba…

  • Let’s start with some definitions. An enclave is a territory belonging to one jurisdiction that is surrounded by an other. An exclave is the opposite – it is a piece of territory that is separated from the main jurisdiction. So, an enclave of one place can be an exclave of another.
  • The “hole” in Araba is the Treviño enclave. It is actual part of the province of Burgos, but it is surrounded by the province of Araba. It consists of two municipalities, Condado de Treviño and La Puebla de Arganzón. Puebla de Arganzón was founded (received its fueros) in 1191 from Sancho VI of Navarre (“Sancho el Sabio”, “Sancho the Wise”) in 1191. It is thought that Condado de Treviño is even older. When Araba was conquered by Castilla, the region that now forms the Treviño enclave was given to Manrique family and passed down as part of a noble title.
  • As one might expect, this has led to both some complications and challenges. The people of the enclave must travel to Vitoria-Gasteiz, the capital of Araba, for many of their services. This creates a strange administration problem in which Araba provides the bulk of the services to the people of another province.
  • The people of the enclave have voted in the past to join Araba, but that vote was ignored. More recently, there have been votes to have a referendum on the issue, but that was also ignored. The current leaders of the enclave have deferred the discussion to higher level government officials.
  • Araba isn’t the only Basque province with an enclave. Bizkaia also has one, this one belonging to the province of Cantabria. Valle de Villaverde was purchased in the 15th century by one Pedro Fernández de Velasco, and at that time it ceased being a part of Bizkaia.
  • And, Bizkaia has an exclave. The city of Urduña is part of Bizkaia, but it sits on the border between Araba and Burgos – it is not an enclave as it is not surrounded by a single other territory, it is on the border. It has strong historical ties to Bizkaia with long standing economic agreements and commercial routes connecting to Bizkaia. Though Araba has tried to annex it in the past, the people of Urduña have reaffirmed their commitment to remain part of Bizkaia.
  • …AND, within Urduña there is yet another enclave. The Cerca de Villaño sits within the Urduña exclave but is part of Burgos.

A full list of all of Buber’s Basque Facts of the Week can be found in the Archive.

Primary sources: See the links in the main article.

Uncategorized

Under Construction…

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Unfortunately, Buber’s Basque Page was down for a few days due to a compromised server, which meant that some posts have been lost. My most recent backup dates to December, 2024, so I’ve lost about 1.5 years of posts. I’ll slowly work to replace those posts as I continue to add new content, but it will take me some time.

If you recently sent me an email or had a message that was awaiting a response from me, I likely don’t have it anymore, so feel free to write me again.

And, if you recently subscribed to the blog, you might have to subscribe again to continue to receive posts via email.

My apologies for this. Clearly, I should backup more often than I do (isn’t that what we all say???). I appreciate your patience as I slowly recover the posts that have been lost.