The Los Angeles County Board of Supervisors and Criminal Justice, 1854

In October 1853, the third edition of the Los Angeles County Board of Supervisors convened, with David W. Alexander the chair as he was the previous year,  He was joined by Stephen C. Foster, who filled a vacancy created a few months as noted in the last post; Samuel S. Thompson, who was an early settler in the new "American town" of El Monte in 1852 and who died there about thirty-five years later; Juan Sepulevda (1814-1898), who was from a prominent Californio family; and Cristobal Aguilar (1816-1886), who served four terms on the Common Council, three as a supervisor, and was a three-term mayor.

As was discussed in the last post, the board confronted problems with the expenses of maintaining the jail with a paltry budget and the last board's decision to support the Los Angeles Rangers paramilitary group meant further expenditures, including $1000 given for materials as submitted by board member Foster and Collins Wadhams.  Sheriff James B. Barton had well over $500 in fees due him for his services and $100 for transporting prisoners from San Diego.  Jailor George W. Whitehorn sent in a bill for $566.75 for his salary and maintenance of prisoners.  To be confronted with over $2000 in bills at one meeting was a hefty expense for the board.

Not only that, but the board, on 4 October, approved a bill submitted by constable William B. Osburn for $320 in the matter of two brothers in the Lugo family and associated of theirs in a notorious matter involving accusations and a long drawn-out legal nightmare for the Lugos back in 1851.

There was also the matter of the county's recent agreement to buy the Rocha Adobe off Spring Street from merchant Jonathan Temple for the court house and county offices.  A building committee was asked to secure $1500 from the city of Los Angeles as part of their share in the structure and its improvements for public uses.

Jonathan Temple (1796-1866), seated at right, with his wife Rafaela Cota and son-in-law, Gregorio de Ajuria, was a prominent merchant and land owner in greater Los Angeles.  He sold the Rocha Adobe on the west side of Spring Street to the city and county of Los Angeles in 1854 for use as a courthouse and public offices.  In the rear of the structure, a two-story jail was built that served in that capacity for many years.  Photo courtesy of the Workman and Temple Family Homestead Museum.

Some of these improvements involved board chair David W. Alexander and his business partner, new arrival in town, Phineas Banning, later the father figure of the harbor at San Pedro/Wilmington.  This kind of conflict of interest, of course, would be disallowed today, but not in the looser operations of frontier Los Angeles.  OThere were others bills submitted by those involved in the work and the board gave $2000 to Foster and W.T.B. Sanford to distribute to contractors, while also empowering the two to collect $1000 from the city for its share of the work.

On 8 November, came an urgent request from the county clerk, John W. Shore, which led to a board resolution

that the room designated for his use in the County Buildings is insufficient for the proper performance of his duties . . . [and] for the safe custody & proper arrangment of his archives, therefore [it is] ordered that the room designated in the County Court House as a Jurors room, be taken possession of by the said Clerk and appropriated for his use in addition to the front room already intended for the use of said County Clerk.

It is not stated where the jurors were supposed to meet for the deliberations, but, if the clerk's quarters were not improved, who knows what would have happened to the minute books (and, this post would not have been possible!)  In fact, there was a fire in the county clerk's space later that also threatened to destroy the archival material, some of which has survived.

As 1854 dawned, major bills were submitted by the district attorney, Kimball H. Dimmick, for $345, William Osburn, who was also a doctor attending on the jail and charging $175,Sheriff Barton for $350, and for jailor Whitehorne for nearly $600.  There was also an interesting notation in which the board "allowed a/c/ [account] of Nelson Mason for dunner for 12 hungry jurymen."  Funds were also expended for the funeral of constable John (Jack) Wheelan, the first law enforcement officer in Los Angeles killed in the line of duty, when he was cut down in Sonoratown, north of the Plaza, a few weeks prior.

Another expenditure was the rent of the buildings used as the jail in recent months, including from Juan Dominguez for $200, although a quarter of that was in scrip (I.O.U.), a common procedure at the time for a frequently cash-strapped county, and from Francisco J. Alvarado, for the last two months of 1853, for $28.  As work on the jail continued, a bill for $216 was submitted by Alfred Foster for his contributions.

Another indication of financial stress and efforts to mitigate the rising costs payable by the county came with a petition from the board on 4 January to the state's supreme court calling for a reduction in fees paid to the sheriff for attendance at the courts, this "being too high and disproportionate to the fees of other offices and from the multiplicty of our Courts causing a heavy burthen [sic] on the revenues of this county,"

In March, Los Angeles witnessed its first legal execution, with Manuel Herrera was hung for the murder of Nestor Artiaga and, in early April, carpenter Ira Gilchrist was compensated an unknown amount "for services as Carpenter making Gallows &c."  At the same meeting of the 3rd, jailor Whitehorne submitted bills totaling nearly $700 for maintenance of prisoners and the facility, while Barton charged almost $750 for attendance at the courts.  It also appears that the appeal to the state's highest court for relief on the sheriff's fees went nowhere, because in early July, Barton and Whitehorne submitted bills totaling over $1000.

However, it was generally pretty quiet when it came to criminal justice matters for the remainder of the year, at least as reflected by County Clerk Shore in the minutes.  A new slate of supervisors took office on 2 October, led again by Alexander, who was obviously highly respected given his consistency in being elected and named chair of the board.

The only returning supervisor for 1854-55 was Cristobal Aguilar.  Newly seated members included David Lewis, another early settler in El Monte, when it was established a couple of years previously and two prominent men with long ties to the criminal justice system and politics in Los Angeles.

The first was James R. Barton, who was still serving as sheriff when he secured his seat with the supervisors (as seen a few times on this blog, it was possible then to hold two elected offices at the same time).  Yet, Barton would only serve the single term, perhaps finding that the excitement and, probably, the fees earned, as sheriff were preferable to being a politician.  As covered here in detail, though, Barton was killed, along with members of a posse, while hunting for the Flores-Daniel gang of thieves in what later became Orange County in early 1857.

The other major figure was Agustín Olvera, who had a number of positions of authority in the Mexican period, and was the first county judge, serving until 1853 and was simultaneously a member of the common council, before he went into private practice as an attorney for a couple of years.

What is interesting, though, is that, although there was a spate of crimes, including notorious murders committed in the latter part of 1854, these warranted almost no mention in the supervisor's minute book.  It was stated in early October that district attorney Benjamin Eaton submitted $175 in bills for charging criminals in indictments.  At the same meeting of the 3rd, a special constable, W. Burt, was mentioned briefly--perhaps he was hired because of the crime wave.

A week later, the board was presented with an account by Charles O. Cunningham of El Monte, E. O. Johnson, and John Weir for $30.75 in the pursuit of criminals.  It may be that the trio went hunting for the killers of James Ellington, a fellow El Monte resident of Cunningham.  Later, Felipe Alvitre and two others were found hiding in Soquel Canyon, in what is now the borderland of Orange and San Bernardino counties near Chino Hills and Brea.  Alvitre's story will be told later in this blog.

The same meeting, on 10 October, the board ordered an increase, despite the fiscal fragility with the county's budget, in prisoner maintenance, so that whites (this would include Spanish-speakers) would have their needs met at 75 cents per day, while Indians would have to get by on materials costing 50 cents.  At the end of November, it was ordered that, despite the lowering of it before, the salary of the district attorney was insufficient and that it should be increased by $150 per month, "considering the increasing amount of labor of his office."  Again, the recent crime wave was almost certainly a factor.

The next post takes us to 1855, which started off with a great deal of drama, but more on that next time around . . .

"Violent Land" by David T. Courtwright

A reading of Eternity Street, the excellent study published early this year on early Los Angeles criminal justice by John Mack Faragher, included an observation of some of the books cited in the bibliography that were definitely worth checking out.

One of these is David T. Courtwright's Violent Land:  Single Men and Social Disorder from the Frontier to the Inner City.  Well, here's a book, published in 1996, which covers exactly some of the sentiments expressed in this blog and previous articles, essays and presentations related to Trembling on the Brink.  Violent Land clearly and cogently explains the conditions that fostered violence in places like Los Angeles, due in large measure to the presence of young men inclined to commit acts of murder and other crimes on the frontier.

While Courtwright doesn't specifically address Los Angeles, his fourth chapter, "The Altar of the Golden Calf," did cover the Gold Rush years in California and the particular and exceptional conditions that applied there.  He started with this compelling statement:  "From the standpoint of social order nearly everything that could have gone wrong on the American frontier did go wrong."  He lists some key ingredients in the recipe for violence: alcohol, racism, and an over-sensitive code of honor.  The new availability of the Colt revolver, revolutionizing violence in volume, was another major element, as it became available in 1849, just in time for the Gold Rush.

Moreover, he continued, "institutional restrains like efficient police, predictable justice, permanent churches, and public schools were lacking, as were the ordinary restrains of married life."  It could be said that, though places like Los Angeles had churches, these were generally attended by women, which partly explains why the Roman Catholic Church was well-established, given that there were plenty of Latino women in town.  Protestant churches, however, struggled to survive, because, especially in the first half of the 1850s, there were so few women to be congregants.

Courtwright identifies another important element:  men who were in trouble elsewhere fled to "the current rogue's haven."  He cited an example of the phrase "gone to Texas" as symbolic of fleeing law enforcement and creditors, but it is also true that a great many Texans hightailed it to California, if not to flee, then to join the hordes of Gold Rush migrants, but those conditions of violent behavior often came with them.

Naturally, Gold Rush California was attractive because there was both money and vice in ample supply.  Young men in mining towns as well as the larger cities and towns outside the gold regions brought more gambling houses, saloons and taverns, brothels and more.  Drunken brawls, fights over insults, cheating (perceived or real) or losses incurred at cards, and many others resulted.

Courtwright pointed out that of the nearly 90,000 persons who poured into California in 1849, the ratio of men to woemn was about 20 to 1.  He also cited a fact that, within six months, 20% of the new arrivals had died, due mainly to endemic illnesses, such as cholera, which swept through the gold fields.  Poor nutrition, abysmal sanitation, over-indulgence in alcohol, and addictions to gambling were also huge problems.  The latter two could also lead to gross excesses in violence.

Hinton Helper, who wrote about California at the time, estimated there were over 4,000 murders in six years (along with 3,000 suicides and deaths due to insanity) and these were almost certainly over-inflated, but, as Courtwright noted, "California was a brutal and unforgiving place."  It was also, he continued "the most unfettered and individualistic place in the world."

This early 1850s magazine illustration of a "Miner on a Prospecting Tour" does show the man packing a long-barrelled pistol in a holster.  Weapons were essential equipment for miners, along with picks, shovels and pans, and were necessary accesories in Gold Rush Los Angeles for many men, as well.

In a section titled "Counting Bodies," Courtwright looked at homicide statistics, noting that "for ease of comparison the result are expressed in the modern Uniform Crime Reports format of so many homicides per 100,000 persons per year."  While comparing numbers, even accounting for missing information, exaggerations, inaccurate reporting on what might be a murder relative to another form of homicide and so on, can be useful, such analyses should be viewed with caution.  Giving some examples of mining towns with astronomical rates of homicides compared to Boston, Philadelphia or a rural Illinois county, Courtwright correctly stated that "the western mining frontier was an exceptionally violent place," though he also pointed out that railroad towns were also notoriously violent.

Still, a mining town, railroad town, or a place like Los Angeles existed in a particularly specific and unique condition not replicable elsewhere, so comparisons to an established eastern metropolis or a remote rural county in the Midwest is, to a significant extent, questionable.  This is largely so because, as Courtwright commented, the former examples involved "abnormally male and youthful populations" subject to vice and violence.  The lack of money to effectively fund policing and court operations, the lack of women as mothers, sisters, and spouses to tamp down male aggression, a dearth of religion and other social institutions, and other factors were significant.

Again, Courtwright did not mention Los Angeles anywhere in this section of his book, though he did so later in discussions in talking about modern violence in the city, but his general discussion of Gold Rush California is useful in looking at how a southern "cow town" with business links to the gold fields and which was a transit point to emigrant trails from the east and roads leading to the gold country, has much food for thought.

William Lewis Manly and Early Los Angeles Crime

The Death Valley '49ers were among the best-known migrants to California of the masses of gold seekers and others who came to the Pacific coast in the early stages of Gold Rush.  Among their number was William Lewis Manly, whose memoir, Death Valley in '49, first appeared in print in 1894.

The horrors of the trip across Death Valley are the focus of the work, but, for the purposes of this blog, the interest is more related to Manly's arrival in Los Angeles in early 1850, after surviving the ordeal in the desert and then a return visit a little more than two years later.

It was March 1850, when he straggled into town, noting that

the houses were only one story high and seemed built of mud of a gray color, the roofs flat, and the streets almost deserted . . . we could not see any way to make a living here.  There was no land cultivated and not a fence, nothing to require labor of any kind . . . in our walk about this city of mud we saw many things that seemed strange to us.  There were more women than men, and more children than grown-up people, while the dogs were plenty.

There was an explanation, of course, for the demographic oddities that Manly discerned, as "the majority of the male inhabitants of this town had gone to the mines, and this accounted for the unusual proportion of women."  Then, before winter set in, he continued, "we learned that they would return in November, and then the gambling houses would start up in full blast . . ."

Evidently Manly did not stay around long enough on his first visit to Los Angeles to find out what "full blast" in the gambling dens of town could often lead to, but on his return to the City of Angeles in summer 1852, he did.

First, though, he discovered that one of the members of his expedition had arrived in Los Angeles a couple of months ahead of him.  In January 1850, Lewis Granger came to the town and quickly disavowed any idea of heading for the mines.  Instead, he became part-owner of a boarding house, before deciding to follow the occupation he had before coming to California—being an attorney.

In fact, when Manly returned to Los Angeles, he stated: "[Jonathan R.] Scott and Granger were lawyers.  Granger was the same man who read the preamble and resolutions that were to govern our big train as we were about to start from Utah Lake [Salt Lake City].  Scott was quite a noted member of the bar . . ."

What attracted Manly's attention more, though, was the fact that

the country was overstocked with desperate and lawless renegades in Los Angeles, and from one to four dead men was about the number picked uyp in the streets each morning.  They were low class, and there was no investigation, simply a burial at public expense.

As discussed in this blog previously, the statement that there was about a murder a day in Los Angeles during the time Manly was talking about, or slightly afterward, was expressed in print by other memorists, including merchant Harris Newmark and Horace Bell, whose colorful and embellished recollections have been recounted here at some length.

Other sources indicate that, while the homicide rate was astronomically high by modern or even contemporary standards, there was nowhere near the level of violence recorded by these writers, who may have inflated their figures to further dramatize their recollections.

This 1843 drawing purports to show what "Mexican Gentlemen" looked like.  William Lewis Manly, in his 1894 memoir, lauded the honesty, benevolence, and charity of Californios.

In any case, it is interesting to read how Manly saw the ethnic mixture in Los Angeles, writing, "the permanent Spanish [that is, Californio] population seemed honest and benevolent, but there were many bad ones from Chile, Sonora, Mexico, Texas, Utah, and Europe, who seemed always on an errand of mischief, a murder, thieving, or robbery."

Manly also had kind words to say about the Californios because of the assistance he was given by them after his travails during his trip to the region, stating

I became well acquainted with many of these old California natives, and found them honest in their dealings, good to the needy, and in all my travels never found more willing hands to bestow upon relatives, friends, or strangers ready relief than I saw among these simple natives.

Many American and European writers of the era expressed outright hostility and racism towards Spanish-speakers in California, so it is notable to see Manly's views, even if "simple" could be construed as paternalistic, or merely as "salt of the earth".

Several months before the murder of Joshua Bean, a former Indian-fighting militia general turned saloon owner, in the mission town of San Gabriel, Manly related a different event related to popular justice in that community.

Evidently, there were four men observed near the mission and acting suspiciously, so based 

on this information the Vigilance Committee arrested the man [the other three apparently having escaped] in camp and brought him to a private room, where he was tried by twelve men, who found him guilty of horse stealing and sentenced [him] to be hung at once, for horse stealing was a capital offense in those days

It was true that, for a time, grand larceny could be punishable by death after a trial, but there was no such example found in Los Angeles County during the brief time the statute was in effect.  More likely, the Vigilance Committee [where a standing or an ad hoc one] was applying its own stautory standards.

Manly continued,

To carry out the sentence they procured a car, put a box on it for a seat, and with a rope around his neck and seated on the box, the condemned man was dragged off by hand to an oak tree not far away, whither he was followed by all the men, women, and children of the place, who were nearly all natives [Californios, probably].

After some of the unnamed man's friends were alerted to the situation, they arrived

to try to save his life.  They talked and inquired around a little and then proposed the question whether to hang him or to turn him over to the lawful authorities for regular trial.  This was put to a vote and it was decided to spare him now.  So the rope was taken off his neck, and he was turned over to Mr. [J.S.] Mallard, the mission justice of the peace, much to the relief of the fellow who saw death staring him in the face.

Manly's description of this narrowly-averted lynching is not found elsewhere and, obviously, cannot be corroborated.  If true, however, it is a rare example of a popular tribunal electing to rescind its own verdict and death sentence.

Also rare is to find first-person sources of life in early American-era Los Angeles and particularly that dealing with crime, violence and the administration of justice.  Manly's memoir is an interesting one on many grounds and well-worth including and considering in any accounting of these issues.