The Barton Massacre of 1857, Part Seven: An "Anonymous" El Clamor Público Editorial

In the midst of the increasing excesses of popular justice resulting from the late January 1857 murders of Los Angeles County Sheriff James Barton and three members of his posse hunting the Flores-Daniel gang of bandits, the gap between the coverage and editorializing of the English-language Los Angeles Star and the Spanish-language El Clamor Público widened.

Occasionally, as noted previously, earlier instances of lynching were cited, generally by El Clamor to put some context to the current spate of executions visited upon gang members and others by locals.  An interesting example of an editorial to appear in that paper was on 21 February and was titled "Cipriano Sandoval: A Reminiscence."

The unnamed author began his piece by explaining his reversion to an event that happened almost five years prior, "as showing how much caution is necessary in popular movements against crime, and when the movers are of the soundest heads and the best hearts, let us mention a fact now almost forgotten in our history."

That fact had to do with the late 1852 murder of Joshua H. Bean, who was widely known for his role as a state militia general in the widespread campaign against a revolt led by Chief Antonio Garra of the Cupeño Indians in San Diego County.  After that effort ended, Bean relocated to San Gabriel, where he operated a saloon in the shadow of the mission.

One night, Bean was shot to death and in the shadowy investigation that followed, it was claimed by a local woman, said to be the lover of legendary bandit, Joaquín Murieta, that the perpetrator was Cipriano Sandoval.  A popular meeting convicted Sandoval for the murder and he was lynched along with a pair of other suspects in Los Angeles.  This incident will be covered in detail in a later post here.

The forgotten fact noted by the editorialist was accompanied by the statement that

Of seven persons who have been hung on Fort Hill, or elsewhere, during the last seven years, by the people of Los Angeles, without legal authority—one was clearly innocent [original italics] of the crime with which he was charged. . . The name of this unfortunate man was Cipriano Sandoval.

Continuing on, the writer observed that Sandoval "was a simple, ignorant, obscure man who had the misfortune to be found at San Gabriel—where he lived soberly and worked industriously at this trade."  Referring to Bean's murder, the author then claimed that "the Indian women of that pueblito pointed to another as the real author of the deed; and many judicious men thought they had no motive to lie."

As it turned out, using Indian testimony in matters of capital cases in court was forbidden by statute, but this would not have been the case, obviously, in a so-called "popular tribunal," or citizen's court.  Still, the "trial" held for Sandoval did not, evidently, include any Indian women testifying before the citizen jury.

Strangely, the editorial then continued with a sentence starting with "It happened that . . ." before the text dissolved into nearly three full lines of ellipses.  When the article resumed, it was to remark that "it is terrible to reflect that the wretched shoemaker, Cipriano, was hurried to his end, by the side of two alleged murderers [for other crimes] . . ."

A portion of an unattributed editorial from El Clamor Público on the 1852 lynching of Cipriano Sandoval that was connected to the excesses wrought at San Gabriel on several men, including Diego Navarro, who may have been the corollary to Sandoval in the mind of the writer:  District Court judge Benjamin Hayes.  Thanks to Paul Bryan Gray for providing microfilmed copies of this paper.

Meanwhile, the writer went on, Sandoval's demise took place "amid the cheerful congratulations lavished on one whose better lot it was to have rich and influential friends."  But, this shield was only effective for so long as "the death-bed lamentations of this last, not long after, revealed the whole truth, if it was not sufficiently known before."

The author then turned to religious feeling, stating that "the main authors in that tragedy [may] hopefully be forgiven" and the addressed the "eternally just God" whose designs are "inscrutable," so that "remunderation does not belong to man, but remains in your mighty hand!"  As for the "punishment of the innocent" like Sandoval, this signified "the triumph of proud and powerful crimes" and led to the conclusion that "this is justice in this world" which represented a "great and solemn mystery!"

Returning to the present circumstance of the lynching of Juan Flores, the editorialist noted that

there was a singular propriety, although not intended, in changing the spot of execution, when the seventh [lynching victim in the town's history] was released to eternity last Saturday, for consecrated was the ground on which had fallen the blood of innocence

In other words, according to this writer, Flores was executed on precisely the same spot as Sandoval.  To "all of which have a heart susceptible of the most tender of sensibilities," the editorial concluded, "may they turn to the barren brow of that fatal hill, [and] let them spill a tear, not without a prayer, for poor SANDOVAL.   May he rest in peace! [original italics and capitalization]"

Being that El Clamor Público was owned, edited and written mainly by its teenage prodigy, Francisco P. Ramirez, it would natural to conclude that this passionate indictment of popular justice was penned by him.  It was not.

Instead, the writer was none other than the district court judge, Benjamin Hayes.  In volume 43 of his extensive scrapbooks of material collated over his many years in southern California, much of which concerned crime, criminal justice and Hayes' years as an attorney and judge and which is now housed at the Bancroft Library at the University of California, Berkeley, the jurist wrote:

It has always been a “question,” as to the author of the death of Gen. Bean.  None of the Californians ever believed, that Cipriano Sandoval was guilty.  The subject was somewhat revived in the year 1857, during the excitement ensuing upon the murder of Sheriff Barton.  Among other articles then written by me, in Spanish, was the annexed in Spanish—a translation of which also appeared in the San Francisco Herald.

Though he doesn't specify who the Cipriano Sandoval was in the aftermath of the Barton killings, it seems almost certain that it was one the men killed in the gross excesses of vigilantism at San Gabriel, most probably Diego Navarro.

Hayes then added a marginal note in the scrapbook: “I have added a brief review of the cases of “Lynch Law” up to 1857,  when the celebrated “Barton” excitement occurred."  This editorial appeared in the 14 March edition of El Clamor Público and will be the subject of a post coming soon.

The Barton Massacre of 1857, Part Six: The Lynching of Juan Flores

On 14 February 1857, the same day that the two weekly newspapers of Los Angeles, the English-language Star and the Spanish-language El Clamor Público were issued, the fate of Juan Flores, determined to be one of the two leaders of the gang of men which killed Sheriff James R. Barton and three members of his posse hunting for the bandits just under a month before, was decided.

As noted here previously, Flores and two of his compatriots, Jesús Espinosa and Leonardo López (a.k.a. Tiburcio Tapia) were able to escape capture by a posse in the Santa Ana Mountains of today's eastern Orange County, through spectacular maneuvers down steep slopes in the range.  They then split up, with Espinosa captured at Ventura and lynched there, after making his confession (also described in this blog), while Lopez vanished.  The other bandit leader, Pancho Daniel, who was wounded in the Barton massacre, also made his escape.

Flores, however, was detained on 3 February while trying to slip through Simi Pass, after five days of rapid riding in what appears to have been a route along the San Gabriel Mountain foothills and through the upper San Fernando Valley.  He remained confined in jail from the 5th, along with at least some of the more than fifty others who were arrested during the house-to-house search of a portion of Los Angeles, for a liitle over a week.

But, on the 14th, as reported in the following week's edition from the 21st of the Star, "the people of this city, and a large number from the principal towns of the county, assembled together for the purpose of what should be done with Flores, and the other prisoners in jail."  The paper did not provide any detail of the meeting other than to say that, "after a good deal of talking, a vote was taken, and it was resolved, without a dissenting voice, that Flores should be executed forthwith."

The other prisoners were left to the authorities, evidently because they had been confined "only [for] attempts at murder, burglaries, and horsestealing."  Curiously, the Star went on to state that "we had intended to make some remarks how this decision was secured—to notice the inference justly deducible therefore—but we have had so much of this of late, that we have no disposition to return to the subject."

El Clamor Público, however, did report that each of the other inmates were questioned at length, particularly about whether "they had committed an offense for which they were punished."  Jonathan R. Scott, an attorney and former justice of the peace, who was presiding over the gathering called for their remanding to the processes of the law.

While there were some who spoke about the alleged guilt of at least some of the confined men, a vote was taken of over 650 present.  It was stated that nearly 400 of them voted for leaving the prisoners to the operations of the criminal justice system and one source stated that the majority of these were not Americans.  That is, of the 250-plus who signaled a desire for more extralegal hanging, the plurality were Americans.  El Clamor did state, though, that "the larger majority of thoughful persons rejected using violence."

Article on the lynching of Juan Flores, Los Angeles Star, 21 February 1857.

With the quick determination out of the way, "the people marched to the jail, and took possesion of Flores."  The bandit leader "had been expecting this visit" and he was taken out to the gallows "by Capt. Twist's company" and followed by the French and Californio militias, along with a large group of residents.

As the procession made it way to the hill where so many lynchings took place, the Star reported that Flores "walked with firmness, and seemed as composed as anyone in the crowd."  Interestingly, the paper made note of his "pleasing countenance" and observed that "there was nothing in his appearance to indicate the formidable bandit which he had proved himself to be."  His days on the run, his haggard state when captured, and the nine days in jail probably had a good deal to do with that.

Also of note was that, once everyone arrived at the gallows, Flores was accompanied by the two priests from the Plaza Church and "the armed men forming a hollow square, supported by the cavalry in the rear."  With his arms bound securely, Flores "firmly ascended the drop" and "he expresed a wish to address the people."  These were interpreted for English speakers and he stated "that he had committed many crimes—that he died without having ill-will against any man" and wished the same in return."  After noting twice that he was prepared or death, Flores left instructions to some in the crowd regarding the disposition of his remains.

He handed over a white kerchief to have his face covereed, after which his legs were restrained and the rope, reportedly a reata taken from one of those killed in the Barton massacre,  placed and adjusted around his neck, during which Flores calmly remained in conversation with those nearby.  As soon as others left the scaffold "immediately after the plank was drawn from under him, and the body of Flores swung in the air."

As soon as Flores was dropped, however, it quickly became obvious that the distance of the drop was "too short, and the unfortunate wretch struggled in agony for a considerable time."  This means that there was not enough distance for Flores to fall from the gallows so that the his weight would cause massive asphyxiation or the breaking of his neck.  Consequently, "in his last, despairing efforts, the rope around his arms slipped above his elbows and he grasped the rop by which he was suspended."

Amidst this chaos, officials had to rush over to do something and "it required considerable effort to release his hold."  Even still, Flores continued flailing in what one observer described as aking to being "hung very much like a dog."  The Star observed that "after a protracted struggle, very painful to behold, the limbs became quiet, and finally stiff in death.  Thus ended the brief but stormy life of the bandit captain, Juan Flores."  The body was left hanging for another hour before it was cut down.  There seems little question that Flores' lynching was undertaken without the slightest concern for what can only be termed, if clincially, as "efficiency."  The use of the reata and the insufficient length of the drop were, beyond the method itself, perhaps willfully.  As much of a criminal as Flores was, shooting by firing squad would have been more humane.

In the jail, the paper continued, the two men who were subjected to a vote of the mob about their fate had, it was reported, still prepared themselves for death "whether from a consciousness of guilt, or a dread of popular fury, we leave to the inference of the reader," opined the Star.  One of them got dressed as if ready for a lynching, while the other had his clothing organized and ready.  But, the paper continued, "the people, more benignant than the malefactors had dared to hope, spared their lives, and they still remain in prison."  El Clamor Público reported that there were still eleven men in jail (some forty, it appears, having been released in preceding days) awaiting their appearance in court.

Notably, El Clamor reported that there was an attempt the evening after Flores's lynching by some citizens to persuade the jailer, Francis Carpenter, to allow them access to the remaining prisoners, presumably so they could exact more executions—"such is the nature of personal revenge," as it was put.  But, the paper went on, Carpenter stood fast and refused to entertain any requests by these individuals.  For this, he was lauded, as it was stated "we allude to this circumstance because we cannot lose any opportunity to commemorate facts of fidelity and humanity among those in public positions."  Moreover, said El Clamor, "by pure compasion, we do not mention the names of those who withdrew, ashamed, in view of the firmness of this noble jailer."

While the Star once more demonstrated support for "the people" and the use of popular justice in lynching Flores, the horrific nature of the botched methods used in the hanging did seem to have an effect, though this was somewhat muted.  On the other hand, El Clamor, previously supportive of using extralegal means to deal with the Flores-Daniel gang, made a very concerted and direct about-face in its views.

"Americans!  Californios!" El Clamor Público, 21 February 1857.

Typically, Francisco P. Ramirez used his elegant prose and idealistic sentiments to not only criticize the concept of lynching, but to discuss the larger issue of community.  For example, in an editorial titled "Americans !  Californians!" he asked, "Do we not all belong to the same republic?  Do we not all have the same equal rights and protection of the laws?"  He went on to inquire, "if the past has caused innumerable wrongs amongst us, when would be a better time than now to have a perfect agreement of faith?" when it came to the observance of law.  He asked "which is the real nature of the illness that our society and politics suffers?  Is it an incurable cancer, or a tumor that can be cured with the aid of science?" meaning, presumably, the science of government and law.

Calling for "an honest and candid discussion" among the Picos, Olveras, Dominguezes and other prominent Californios, Ramirez looked for "measures that find ways to promote the common welfare" and which would "unite the two or more races (in a manner of speaking) that form the body of our population."  He went on to sugges that, "if the Californios have not complied with their duty . . . we expect that their lacks be declared clearly, so that they are remedied, and all the fears, and threats (if such exist) can disappear and be forgotten."  Again calling for the respecting of the laws and their "firm administratoin characterized by equality and purity," Ramirez concluded by noting that "thus alone, in our humble opinion, can we advance with the prosperity of a free town."

"Thoughts on the Past," El Clamor Público, 21 February 1857.

In a separate editorial, "Thoughts on Past Events," Ramirez wrote that, "the majority of the town generally avoids committing gross excesses" and that "a notable test of this truth was presented last Saturday," presumably referring to the mass meeting vote about the fate of the eleven men jailed with Flores.  He went on, though, to write, "nevertheless, we have been sufficiently correct to distrust the few when . . . [using] the internal fire of their own exaltation while they have the opportunity to gratify their passions without limit."  These individuals "can ignore the motives and counsels of the majority of the town, and very falsely interpret the feeling and general will."

For those disposed to act extralegally, Ramirez continued, "if they are not counteracted by fear of public execration or some other worse result, they could use their efforts to carry out so much of their malice until they employ 'fire and sword.'"  It was, however, "in times of revolution or some public calamity or the great exaltation of spirit, that the worst men are the first to come out from the shadows" and fall prey to anger and revenge.  Ramirez referred to the unnamed men found murdered near Los Nietos and then made allusion to "respectable people who took the initiative," citing Andres Pico's lynching of Ardillero and Silvas and "also the brave but discreet gentlemen sent to Ventura," that is Coopwood and his small posse, where Espinosa and Berryesa were hung.

In these references, Ramirez seemed to be equally criticizing Pico and Coopwood, who were more or less public in their vigilante activity, with the unknown parties at Los Nietos.  He also made allusion to the decisions of a few regarding the lives of alleged or real criminals, noting "we desire that the voice and the vote of all the town be heard before a man is condemned to suffer the final penalty."  He also rhetorically inquired, "Who will be able to reckon the value of the life of a human being?"

More provocatively, Ramirez continued: "Think on this, fellow citizens.  If an American were taken in hung in San Jose or Santa Ana, or in San Juan, where the population is composed entirely of Californios; would this not be the cause of a general uprising?" Once again, he went back to assert that "we are obliged to ask for an explanation of the deaths at Los Nietos."

Looking back to earlier events, Ramirez noted that "when the voice of the majority of the town is heard patiently, it seems that there is something similar to the administration of justice," though he did note that these instances sometimes smacked of stating that "the voice of the town is the voice of God!"  The matter of the late 1852 lynching of Doroteo Zavaleta and Jesús Rivas, that of David Brown in early 1855, and the 1851 (Ramirez stated 1850) slaughter of the Irving Gang by Cahuilla Indians were brought up in this connection.  In this latter, Ramirez observed that "a respectable Coroner's jury pronounced the facts as justified," even the slaughter of white bandits by Indians.  He also claimed "in these events the great majority of the town gave its decision of approval" and "thus has it been with the execution of the bandits of San Juan Capistrano."

However, he went on, "will it no longer be that order will be established and that there be the peaceful administration of laws in this county?" and he once again called for support for the law and the peace officers of the county.

"Thoughts on the Future," El Clamor Público, 21 February 1857.

Not to be content with this, Ramirez issued a third editorial on that day, called "Thoughts on the Future."  He started by stating that, "the past should be recalled as a guide to the future" and that "we need to mae an effort to remove some of the wrongs that we have witnessed."  Claiming that "the Californios are the ones that have suffered most by the thieves," Ramirez mused on the fact that, for the most part, the reaction to the murders of Barton and his posse were "harmonious," but he also pointed out "the excesses that are too apparent."  Employing a metaphor of a fire lit in the heart of the town that could mean that "the useful tree is consumed along with the ivy," Ramirez noted that, while "without a doubt a salutary terror has been felt by the criminals," there was a concern that "we do not expect in vain that all the seeds of crime have perished."

Another metaphor followed.  Sowing the region "with the fruitful grain of universal education, and to water it with the perennial sources of religion" would mean that "all the harmful plants would disappear forever."  Still, he went on, "nevertheless we know very well, by the experience of the whole world, that the lowest passions often destroy those that are the most powerful barriers opposed to violence."  With this in mind, Ramirez continued, "for this reason we cannot be so simple and candid to suppopse that the community has been regenerated, only because we have seen the spectale of military executions, in times of peace, and in a country that should be governed by laws and civil judges."

Noting that, "there still remains a lot to do," Ramirez entreated his fellow Spanish-speakers: "Californios, we entreat you to pledge more for the education of your beloved children in their tender age, and with the lessons of divine and human wisdom."  Should this not be the case, the situation would only be "dark and sadder in proportion that we abandon and ignore this."  Looking at the ages of Flores, Juan Catabo, and Espinosa, Ramirez stated "it is painful that the great majority of the criminals in our courts are comparatively young" and that many are not even twenty before "the flowers of virtue have dried in the heart."

Ramirez pointed to a recent example oin which three teenagers barely sixteen years old were involved "in cards, in wine, in libertinage, and are hardnening to the last degree of shame!"  He cited the examples of Zavaleta, Rivas, Felipe Alvitre (hung legally before Brown was lynched), Ygnacio Herrera, the sole legal execution in the county when he was hung in 1854, and Flores and noted that their ill-gotten gains "were lost on playing tables a moment after the robberies took place" and set an example for some of the youth in the community:  "We will say it with frankess: you youths are too much inclined to blindly imitate the bad dealings of others . . . be careful of those despicabvle vices.  Surely they will carry you to your ruin.  You are surrounded by greater dangers and have more temptations, right now, then your parents when they were young.

Notably, Ramirez pointed to recently Gold Rush wealth, observing that "it should be feared that the wealth some have obained, since many of you have been born, has left you a custom of idleness" and then asked "California was happier when all were poor—is that not so?"  He counseled younger people to "ask the old settlers.  Wealth is the mother of pride, extravagance and the aversion of work; the final abandonment and loss of fine customs.  Idleness is the origin of crime in the town."

For Ramirez, "a kind Providence has given us a rich land, a delicious climate, and all the resources to achieve an honest life.  All should be employed in what is useful for them and their family."  It was far better to "sow corn, what, and et cetera—do anything that will have you useful and busy, instead of passing the time in those detestable bars and gambling houses."  In this idealistic and lyrical vein, he continued that "wealth is not the greatest happiness to which we can aspire.  Often it is a curse and a misfortune.  A good character in humble poverty is worth more than the gold of California had with a bad reputation."

Concluding, Ramirez said "if we direct these words to you it is not because they would not be able to applied to others.  Crime is found everywhere, and is produced by the same causes.  We should not forget that, in every age and nation, religious is the soul of virtue, education conducts us to wisdom, and industry carries itself with honor."  Those three elements "remain as the solid base of private and public happiness."