Many people wonder how it is that so many Alaskans (eighteen in 2008) live in Álamos. It all started when Gaye Billington, from Alaska, wrote a grant in 1967 to bring Alaskan native children to Álamos for an educational experience. She was a teacher, and the idea was that she would house, feed, and educate eight grade school students in a Catholic school in Álamos during the winter. From that program, a number of people in Alaska discovered this little town in Mexico, including the Wilcox family.

One year, when Gaye did not come to Álamos, she loaned her house and car to Don’s sister, Betty, who brought their mother, Helen, to Álamos with her. Helen fell in love with Álamos and came the next year on her own.

Don and Dorothy Wilcox first came to Álamos after Helen rented an apartment in Las Delicias from Ida Luisa Franklin in 1968. Helen then bought the lot next to it (owned now by Lorna and Tony Acosta); when she found she couldn’t get clear title to the property, she got Levant Alcorn to get her down-payment back. Levant then sold her the house at #3 Toluca in 1970, which was owned by Doris Mellen’s mother. Don came alone at first to rescue his mother, but he liked what he saw.

The Wilcoxes have owned the house since Helen died in 1983. Early on they came with their youngest child, Peggy, who studied in the Catholic school in Álamos for part of the winter. Peggy had one Gringa girlfriend in Álamos during that time, Becky Messer, and Don and Dorothy became known as “Peggy’s parents.”

The state of Alaska divides a percentage of oil profits among all eligible residents if they live at least six months of the year in Alaska, so it has been the habit of Don and Dorothy to make two round trips each winter from Alaska to Álamos.

Dorothy recalls a few of the North Americans in Álamos in the early years: Levant Alcorn, Lorna Acosta, the Combs, the Nuzums, Joe Curry, Curly Ellis, Hal and Margo Findlay, the Intorfs, Judy and Mary, the Jenks, and Hildy Aragon. There were few phones at the time, but Polo (at his restaurant) would place a call if one was needed. Because of the lack of phones, all invitations had to be sent by household help and slid under the door. All the roads were cobblestone.

There was a strict custom of visiting only between 10 a.m. and noon. The siesta was when all doors were closed to visitors, then at 4 p.m. life picked up again.

She remembers particularly the nightly sounds: kids playing in the road after dinner, dogs barking, drunks singing, burros braying, turkeys gobbling, and before dawn roosters crowing in response to each other. The worst sound, though, was the noise made by the paver-making factory nearby, starting at 6 a.m. every morning.

At that time the two-lane highway from the states was a nightmare, and you took your life in your hands driving to Álamos from the border. At first they remember bringing everything they would need for their visit from the United States, but gradually they were able to live with what could be bought here.

As a mining engineer Don enjoyed exploring northern Mexico for valuable metal, and following up on stories of treasure. It seemed that every Mexican had a story of buried treasure or an abandoned mine. He responded to these tips over the years but never found anything that could be a practical mining opportunity. He still looks for treasure.