Promises kept: Arizona's roadside shrines are equal parts folk art and testament to faith - Travel

Sunset, Nov, 2002 by Nora Burba Trulsson

Several times a day, Ruben C. Licano swings by the roadside shrine he built outside Miami, Arizona. As cars and trucks whiz by, he makes sure that candles are a safe distance from the snapshots, notes, and artificial flowers that bedeck the altar, and that the 3-foot-tall statue of the Virgin Mary is still in place. He also prays.

Licano erected the shrine in 1977 with the help of a friend to fulfill a vow. "When I was in the Army in Korea, I promised the Virgin Mary that if I returned to Arizona alive, I would build a shrine," he says. "It took me a while, but I did it."

Prevailing over fires, vandals, thieves, sleeping transients, and even a prowling puma, Licano has kept the shrine open to anyone in need of spiritual comfort. Made of river rock and topped with a rebar cross, the shrine's walls and roof partially enclose a small altar that passersby have filled with personal mementos of loved ones and written pleas for everything from getting good grades to better health to world peace.

Licano's roadside shrine is one of dozens that dot the desert landscape of southern Arizona. These public shrines, also called capillitas or grutas, have become Southwestern cultural icons. Part folk art and part pure expression of faith, they have evolved from the Spanish-Catholic traditions brought to the New World by early missionaries and settlers. Arizona's are different from the sometimes elaborate roadside crosses, also called crucecitas or descansos, that are more prevalent in New Mexico and mark the sites of fatal auto accidents and similar tragedies.

The Arizona Department of Transportation has an unofficial hands-off policy that respects the cultural tradition of roadside shrines, as long as they pose no safety hazards. When Licano's shrine became caught in the crosshairs of a debate over religious symbols on public land, the department relinquished the land rights to a private owner, allowing the shrine to stay.

Expressions of hope

Although roadside shrines are built for a variety of reasons, in most cases they are places of petition or promise, explains retired Tucson folklorist James Griffith. "Particularly during World War II, many Mexican Americans in Arizona made a promise, or a manda, to build a shrine if their loved ones returned safely from overseas duty," says Griffith.

Most shrines are built by a family or individual and, though rooted in Catholicism, are rarely associated with any particular parish. Constructed of rock, brick, adobe blocks, or even old, upended bathtubs, the shrines can usually fit only one or two visitors at a time. Altars are anchored by statues of the Virgin of Guadalupe, the patroness of Mexico or saints, such as St. Jude, the patron saint of impossible causes. You'll frequently find candles, Christmas lights, and artificial flowers decorating the altar, plus the photographs, notes, and personal items left by those who've stopped to pray.

Travelers won't find many roadside shrines along interstates. Instead, look for them on state or U.S. highways, as well as backroads that connect smaller towns.

In addition to Licano's shrine, several others are easily accessible and popular with visitors. Just outside Patagonia, in southern Arizona, a short series of steps leads up to a shrine tucked into a shallow cliffside niche. Juan and Juanita Telles built it in the 1940s as a plea for their sons' safe return from World War II. The sons did return, and members of the family still take care of the shrine.

Downtown Tucson's El Tiradito shrine commemorates a sinner, rather than petitioning a saint. There are several versions of the story of El Tiradito, which means "little outcast" or "little castaway." The most common one takes place in the late 1800s, when Juan Oliveros, a young shepherd, is said to have become infatuated with his mother-in-law. Their adulterous love affair was discovered by the woman's husband. Enraged, he murdered Oliveros. The youth's dalliance in one of the seven deadly sins prevented his inclusion in the local cemetery. Instead, he was buried where he was killed, and the shrine was erected at that site.

The present adobe shrine, which is on the National Register of Historic Places, was built a few blocks from the original after it was abandoned to a street-widening project in the 1940s. Over the years, the shrine has become a focal point for Tucson residents in times of need. It's not unusual to find several people at the shrine, praying or lighting candles.

Another version of the roadside shrine is found in home gardens, typically in Hispanic neighborhoods in Tucson and other southern Arizona communities. The majority are small, personal, and tucked into a corner of the yard, but a few are located in front of the house, facing outward toward the street. Between Tubac and Thmacacori, the community of Carmen has several outwardfacing yard shrines, which are constructed of everything from red brick to concrete block and sliding glass doors. According to local custom, if the shrine faces the street, you're welcome to visit.