The Big House IV: San Quentin State Prison and Los Angeles County Inmates

The fifth Los Angeles County resident sent up "to the big house" at San Quentin State Prison was Atanacio Moreno, who arrived at the facility on 10 April 1854, and whose story was told here in an April post.

Moreno was followed by an Indian named Juan Chapo, who was delivered to San Quentin on 4 August.  Juan Chapo was tried before the District Court on a charge of manslaughter because, as recorded in the diary of that court's jurist, Benjamin Hayes, he was "indicated for killing an Indian woman.  He was in a deep state of intoxication at the time.  It occurred at Mr. Jno Roland's."

This was the ranch of John Rowland, owner of some 24,000 acres comprising half of the massive Rancho La Puente in the eastern San Gabriel Valley.  Rowland had a large population of Gabrieleño Indians working for him and Juan Chapo was undoubtedly one of the ranch's laborers.

The register listing for prisoner #414 at San Quentin State Prison, Juan Chapo, a Gabrieleño Indian who pled guilty to killing Anselma, an Indian woman, during a drunken state and sentenced to one year and a $1 fine based on "an excellent character."  Click on the images to see them enlarged in separate windows.

Hayes did not provide any further information concerning the circumstances of the killing of the woman, named as Anselma in court documents, but he did note that "an excellent characer [was] proved for him."  Consequently, Hayes went on, "the Court sentenced him to one year in the state prison" after Juan Chapo pled guilty.  Strangely, Hayes also pronounced a fine of $1.

It is also notable that, in the San Quentin register, there is no occupation listed nor are there the physical descriptions of heights, complextion, and color of eyes and hair usually given.  The only other notation was that Juan Chapo was discharged a couple of weeks early on 22 July 1855 and then faded from history.

The other prisoner confined at San Quentin around this time was a notable character in Los Angeles:  José Serbulo Varela.  Varela was from an old, established family in town, dating back to its early Spanish-era period.  During the Mexican-American War, he served in the Californio forces defending the town and region against the American invasion.

In 1846, when a cadre of Americans, who gathered for mutual protection at the Rancho Santa Ana del Chino's adobe home of its owner Isaac Williams, on what is now the grounds of Boys Republic, a troubled youth facility in Chino Hills, were captured, there was a serious consideration of executing the group.  This included the John Rowland mentioned above, as well as prominent Angeleno Benjamin D. Wilson, namesake of Mount Wilson, and others.

Varela, however, refused to consider the idea and told his fellow Californios that they would have to kill him before trying to take out revenge against the American prisoners, who were held for a substantial period before finally being released.  From that point forward, Varela, it was said, was held in the highest esteem by Americans, to the point that, whenever he fell afoul of the law, which was often, he was invariably bailed out and released.

Jose Serbulo Varela, a hero to many Anglos for his defense of Americans captured at the Battle of Chino and threatened with summary execution in 1846 during the Mexican-American War, was convicted of perjury and sentenced to a year at San Quentin, registering as prisoner #400.  Varela was found murdered in an irrigation ditch in 1860.

Charged for petty larceny and perjury in a crime against Santiago Feliz, of the family which owned the Los Feliz Rancho northwest of downtown Los Angeles, Varela was acquitted of the larceny charge, but convicted of perjury, evidently in his sworn statement of what took place in the matter with Feliz.

On 16 June 1854, he was sentenced to a year at San Quentin and registered ten days later as prisoner #400.  The 5'5 1/2" Varela, listed as 41 years of age and with dark complexion, hair and eyes and with the occupation as a laborer, served out his term and was discharged, presumably on or just before 26 June 1855.

Varela, who was said to be a drunkard, continued to attract trouble, but was always put out on his liberty because of his conduct at Chino, until his luck ran out in September 1860, when he was stabbed to death and his body found in the zanja madre (the mother ditch used for irrigation in town) at Los Angeles.

The Los Angeles Common Council and Criminal Justice, 1851

As the city of Los Angeles entered its second year of existence as a chartered American-era town, its Common [City] Council was undergoing a good deal of flux not unexpected for a frontier town.

As 1851 dawned, Stephen C. Foster, who served as an alcalde (roughly, mayor) at the end of the Mexican period, and José Vicente Guerrero took their seats after a special election, but then council member Alexander W. Hope submitted his resignation, as did city marshal Thomas Cox, who'd only been in office a short time.  Consequently, the council called for a special election on the 15th.

Meanwhile, Mayor Manuel Requena took up a matter that was first broached a few months earlier by council member Morris Goodman, who'd soon after resigned, this being the creation of a dedicated police force.  Meantime, with Cox vacating the marshal's office, the council passed a resolution that Moses Searles "be appointed a special police officer charged with the duties of the Marshal until the latter's election.

On 8 January, the minutes recorded that

The Mayor submitted a communication from several citizens of Los Angeles offering their good offices in the formation of a Police force, whereupon Council passed a vote of thanks for the good disposition shown by the gentlemen.

Requena followed by observing that the example set by the nine unnamed men who sent the letter should be demonstrated through an invitation to the general public for a volunteer police force (distinguished from Goodman's proposal for a paid force) to be selected by its own membership.  A suggestion was made to call for citizens to form "a Police Corps for the maintenance of good order in this City" and another recommendation was for a mass public meeting at the Plaza the next Saturday afternoon, though no disposition of these was recorded.

Eight days later, the returns of the special election were recorded with John O. Wheeler, later publisher of The Southern Californian newspaper, elected to the open council seat, and Alexander Gibson elected as marshal.

For a time the situation was stable and the only matters of note had to do with Gibson's offer to clean the streets for $50 per month and a special committee's suggestion that this be accepted "on condition that he be allowed to use the prisoners of the City to do this this work."

A common problem arose as spring arrived and the city perpetually battled financial deprivation.  On 1 May, the council decided to accept a finance committee recommendation to revise salaries for city officials.  The mayor and city attorney saw their compensation reduced, while the marshal was to be paid in fees basd on ordinances passed and revised in October 1850 and the past March.

Two days later, treasurer F.P.F. Temple reported that the city's cash reserves amounted to just $84.68 and the finance committee pointed out that businesses were evading license fees, which were the source of much of the town's revenues.  It was also noted that the city recorder still had some fines from April that had not been turned over to Temple and this $32 was obviously desperately needed!

This is an 1842 print titled "Natives of California," from an original provided courtesy of The Workman and Temple Family Homestead Museum, City of Industry.

In late May, the council amended its set of police ordinances to deal with the continuing problem of :the scandalous reunions of the Indians" on weekends and, specifically, "the gathering of the Indians [with respect to what was] called the game of the 'Pillon'" or Peon.  

Descriptions of the gambling game vary, but essentially Peon involved two teams of four men on either side of a bonfire.  Each had two pieces of bone or wood, one with a black band around it.  One of the men on each side held these pieces in each of his hands (these tied with leather thongs to prevent undue sleight-of-hand) under a blanket and the team on the other side had to guess which hand held the one without the band.  

Counters were used to determine how many incorrect guesses each side had and the first to reach fifteen counters for unsuccessful guesses was the losing side. Key was for the holder of the pieces to maintain a completely stoic expression to prevent the other side from guessing where the unmarked piece was when the other side pointed to the hand they thought it was in.

During the intense and lengthy process, games lasting many hours or even two or three days, songs were sung by women standing behind the players to spur the other side to fail, either in the guessing or for those holding the unmarked piece to betray by expression the hand it was in.   With alcohol and heavy wagers involved, violence often erupted during the games.

Consequently, the council amended its ordinances on 21 May so that "the game of 'Peon' is prohibited throughout the City, and reunions of Indians in the strets after night-fall are forbidden."  Perhaps because of the need to enforce this new ordinance and others that may have gone unenforced, the council agreed that "the Marshal shall have the right to appoint what number of deputies may be needed."  Further, "the Marshal and his deputies shall see to it that no intoxicating beverage is sold to the Indians" and take the proper steps with judicial authorities if this was violated.

Those Indians who ran afoul of these new prohibitions were subject to a fine of $2.50 or six days work on the chain gang.  As noted here previously, this week-long sentence was often followed by violations of the law on the seventh day and then a return to the "vicious cycle" of chain gang labor for the next week.  For those guilty of selling liquor to Indians, the fine was $20 or five days work on the chain gang or both, at the discretion of the mayor, who had jurisdiction on these matters.

There was one other change to the ordinances, which stated that the marshal and his deputies "shall wear a red ribbon in the button hole of their coats, by which they can be known as Police Officers."  The use of the term "police officers" is a segue into the next important action of the council in their criminal justice work--a topic that will be covered in the next post.

The Los Angeles Common Council and Criminal Justice, 1850, Part Three

In the last few months of 1850, the year that city and county government began operations in Los Angeles, the flux that might be expected in any newly-organized frontier community manifested in varying ways.

With the Los Angeles Common (City) Council, one of the problems that arose early on had to do with the high turnover of its elected officials, including council members.  With regard to criminal justice administration, a key isue was compensation, starting with the town's first marshal, Samuel Whiting.

But, at the meeting of 13 September, Whiting reported that "for sundry reasons . . . he is not satisdied with the salary of six hundred dollars per annum" and, instead, requested the same compensation as the county sheriff, G. Thompson Burrill, which was based on fees.  These fees were for any service of process, for mileage traveled in the conduct of business, and so on, and were set by state law.

At the meeting, council member Jonathan Temple moved for the creation of a special committee to make a recommendation based on Whiting's request and he and new council member Benjamin D. Wilson were appointed.  Evidently, the results were not to Whiting's satisfaction, as he submitted his resignation on the following meeting of the 24th.

The council then called for a special election on 5 October, which was changed to the 7th and expanded when council member Alexander Bell and city treasurer Francisco Figueroa resigned their positions.  The election, held at the El Palacio adobe residence of Abel Stearns on Main Street, but, in the meantime, council member David W. Alexander proposed appointing a marshal pro tem, so that someone would be on the job.  When they asked a "Mr. Morton" to take the temporary position, he refused "not being familiar with the duties of that office."  Of course, the only prerequisite to serving was to simply be elected.  Alexander then asked that the mayor and recorder select a marshal pro tem and pay him $3 per day, which was approved by the council.

On 9 October, the election results were announced with Alexander W. Hope elected to the council, F.P.F. Temple as city treasurer, and Thomas Cox as marshal.  That same meeting the council's finance committee offered a fee schedule for the marshal, but this was not detailed in the minutes.  Council member Morris Goodman also proposed that the mayor be authorized "to establish a City Police Department, consisting of a Captain and two roundsmen; the Captain to receive one hundred dollars per month, and the roundsmen seventy-five dollars per month each."

Morris Goodman (1819-1888) was the first Jewish member of the Los Angeles Common (City) Council and proposed the formation of a city police department in October 1850.  Although the proposal was rejected by the council, a volunteer force was created the following year.  Later, Goodman was a partner with Theodore Rimpau in a mercantile house in Anaheim.  The photo is from the Jewish Museum of the American West, a great Web site, and their page on Goodman is here. 

Goodman's recommendation was rejected, likely not because it was a bad idea--in fact, it was almost certainly necessary given the amount of violence and law-breaking in town, but because it was just too expensive to expend $3,000 a year for officers, when the current system paid in the high hundreds.  In fact, not long after Francisco Bustamente, teacher at the only town-funded school, requested a raise from $60 per month to $100, the council decided, towards the end of the year to shut the institution down.

Another significant problem of the era was the dire situation with the local Indians, whose society was torn asunder from the time the Spanish missionaries arrived late 18th century and continued to struggle under Mexican and then American rule.  Among the many problems was a high rate of alcoholism in a region that counted wine and brandy manufacturing as one of its economic mainstays.  As noted here before, Indians were often paid in these articles, got drunk on Sundays (their one day off during the week), were arrested and jailed and, in lieu of having money to pay a fine for disorderly conduct, were farmed out to local ranchers and farmers, who paid them again with alcohol, fueling a vicious cycle.

On 16 October, then, the council resolved to ban "all mixing with the Indians of California during their feats [fetes] or reunions within this City."  This had specifically to do with gatherings in which Indians would drink to excess and violence, abuse and other behaviors would generally ensue.  The council then enacted an ordinance that stated "the police shall have the pwer to apprehend and arrest the transgressors and bring them before the Recorder, who may impose a fine up to twenty dollars or ten days in the chain gang . . ."

At the 27 November meeting, the mayor called the council's attention "to the destitute condition of the laborers employed on City works and asking that a sum of money be assigned to them to relieve their wants."  While it was not stated who these people were, it is safe to assume that many, or most, were Indians.  The council, however, chose not to address the matter.

By the end of the year, there had been another change to the composition of the council, as Jonathan Temple and Morris Goodman both resigned their seats, for reasons unspecified.  An election was called for on the 30th and the remainder of the business of the council before December concluded had mainly to do with the role of the recorder in dealing with both city ordinances and state statutes, relative to collecting fines for infractions of both.  It was noted that a little less than $300 was accrued to the treasury from fines in November and most of it expended.

The next post takes the activities of the council into 1851, including the reconsideration of Morris Goodman's idea of a dedicated police force, so check back soon for that.

Native Indian Forced Labor in the Los Angeles Criminal Justice System

The situation among the native Indians of the Los Angeles region is, as with so many parallels around the world, a sad tale of destruction and loss mingled with resiliency and determination for those indigenous people who have survived.

From the arrival of the Spaniards by land in 1769 onward, the Indians, called Gabrieleños by the conquerors, and such names as Tongva and Kizh by varying factions of descendants today, faced the onslaught of disease, forced labor, abject living conditions, destruction of native plant and animal resources, alcoholism, violence and other forces.  Despite this, there are many thousands of people today who claim some portion of native blood, even if the last of the pureblooded Gabrieleño passed on decades ago.

The situation continued to worsen in the American period, particularly as the Gold Rush and general western migration brought Americans and Europeans to the area in greater numbers.  Constituting the main labor force on the region's ranches and farms, the largest of which were roughly similar to the plantations of the South (and, not coincidentally, many of the new migrants to the Los Angeles area were from that part of the U.S.), natives were often paid in liquor, which they then consumed and, when drunk, were arrested and confined in jail.

Unable to pay the fines accuring on their convictions, Indians then found themselves subjected to being "hired out" as laborers to work off their sentences.  This was, in effect, a forced labor system that some have likened to slavery.

The system of contracted labor of Indian convicts in the Los Angeles city jail was managed by the mayor, whose court heard the cases of public intoxication that led to convictions and sentences, and the city marshal, who was responsible for managing the jail.

In late Winter 1853, charges were brought by the county Grand Jury against Mayor John G. Nichols and Marshal George Batchelder for misconduct in office.  The two were alleged to have financially profited directly from the labor system.  The matter went before the Los Angeles district court, presided over by recently-elected Judge Benjamin Hayes.

As reported in the 26 February edition of the Los Angeles Star, however, "the court decided that the statutes on this subject applied expressly and exclusively to county, township and district officers" and "that in such a case as the present, the party, injured might have resorted to certioari, habeus corpus, and other adequate remedies."

A summary of the case of People v. John G. Nichols, mayor of Los Angeles, in the Los Angeles Star, 26 February 1853.

The concept of certioari, or legal review, involves having a higher court, such as the Los Angeles District Court, reviewing the rulings of a lower tribunal, like the Mayor's Court.  The issue of habeus corpus deals with unlawful imprisonment.

Essentially, Judge Hayes ruled that, because there were no specific state laws covering the question of misconduct in improper jailing (and, then, farming off Indian convicts for labor in lieu of paying fines) by a mayor and marshal, the only legal resort was to seek review of Nichols' rulings on Indian cases and Batchelder's imprisonment of natives.

Consequently, the notice in the paper simply observed: "Defendant was discharged."  The case file for the District Court proceeding, dated 20 February 1853, and now deposited with The Huntington Library, noted that the charges were dismissed.

Hayes' ruling and dismissal, of course, does not mean that Nichols and Batchelder were innocent of manipulation of Indian convicts in the matter of labor to "pay off" their fines.  It was, rather, a technical matter, something that, in other types of criminal cases, generally infuriated the press and many of the local populace.

In light of the statutes then in effect, though, it was the correct legal ruling.  Clearly, state law and practice did not, in this example, serve to protect native Indians from the predatory nature of forced labor.  As their numbers declined precipitously during the 1850s, from about 3,800 enumerated Indians in the 1852 state census to about 2,000 by 1860, natives suffered legal, as well as social, political and economic abuses, by omission as well as commission.

The practice of sending Indian convicts into forced labor on the area's ranches and farms in lieu of fines for intoxication convictions (brought about largely because of the practice of payment for that same labor with alcohol) is the ultimate example of the "vicious cycle" and a black mark on society in early American-era Los Angeles.