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 . . .

The Los Angeles Common Council and Criminal Justice, 1859

The last year of the tumultuous and turmoil-filled 1850s began with another nod to straitened financial circumstances in the post-Gold Rush economic environment, when, at its 17 January 1859 meeting, the Los Angeles Common [City] Council's finance committee reported that the contract it renegotiated with the city jailor, Joseph Smith, was "the best contract that could be made under the circumstances."  With this far-from-enthusiastic recommendation, the council went ahead and approved the deal, the details of which were not recorded.

At the same meeting, former council member and businessman/rancher Jonathan Temple petitioned to meet with the council concerning "public buildings" he was contemplating building.  Coucil members Stephen C. Foster, John S. Griffin, and David M. Porter were appointed to a committee to consult with Temple on his intentions.

On the 25th, the committee issued its report, stating the Temple "solely or in connectio with others," proposed to build structures that could be rented to the city at 1 1/4% of the cost of the building and the stated $5,000 value of the land as monthly rent for ten years, with the city having the opttion to buy the structure at the end of that period or before at cost.

The proposed building, designed by local builder W.H. Dearien and located between Main and Spring streets and Temple and 1st was to be exempt from taxation and kept in good repair by the city.  The committee recommended that Temple's terms be accepted and that the structure be specifically for butchers and green grocers.  It also recommended that total payments to Temple over the ten years not exceed $25,000, though this was increased to $30,000 by the council, which approved the idea, but stipulated that the structure had to be two stories, not one (after all, Los Angeles was ready to move a little higher skyward than usual!)

This circa 1870 stereoscopic photograph shows Jonathan Temple's Market House, with its landmark cupola and clock tower.  Completed in 1859, the structure was mainly a commercial building, but had quarters for city hall, and, on the second floor, the first true theater built in Los Angeles.  The worsening economy, though, led to changes in its use quickly.  From the Workman and Temple Family Homestead Museum collection.

On 21 February, a contract between Temple and the city was presented and approved, followed by an extraordinary (special) meeting two nights later, held to draft an ordinance concerning the proposal for what was then being called the "Market House and City Hall."  Dearien's design, in fact, was evidently modeled on that of Boston's landmark Faneuil Hall, reflected by Temple's upbringing in nearby Reading, Massachusetts.

In early May, Temple petitioned the council to allow him to add, at a cost of $1,500, a cupola and clock that would surmount the structure--this feature eventually became a major focal point of the building.  The issue evidently was put aside, because it was resubmitted in June.  A month later, a special meeting was held to devise a system for renting "stalls" or small stores in the building.

Not coincidentally, perhaps, Temple then petitioned the council for the creation of a new street to be named for him, which would extend west from what was then the intersection of Main and Spring.   This bordered the northern tip of what would be called the Temple Block, with the proposed Market House at the southern section.

This 30 July 1859 article in the Los Angeles Star describes the nearly-complete Market House of Jonathan Temple.

After Temple was able to buy land from the heirs of Antonio Valdez as well as from Francis Mellus to make way for the street, the council gave its approval.  Temple Street was only one block in its early incarnation, but it seems obvious that Temple felt future growth would move up into the hills to the west of town.  Unfortunately for him and others, that move would be great delayed by the economic doldrums that worsened in the first half of the Sixties.

Meanwhile work continued on the Market House and, by late September, the special committee assigned to monitor its progress, reported that the building should not be received by the city until it was determined to meet all contract specifications.  In fact, an ordinance was approved concerning renting stalls for three months, with a nine-month extension, and bills were to be posted about these terms because the structure was due to be open by the first of October.

A special meeting on the 30th was held for examination of the finished building, the renting of stalls and other related business and the council requested Temple and Francis Mellus to issue a two-year warranty on the mastic roof that Mellus's business put on the structure.  The vote to accept the building was not, however, unanimous as members Wallace Woodworth and Ezra Drown voted no, though their reasons were not given.  By then, however, a crime spree, including homicides, rocked the town (yet again) and there was some criticism of the time spent by the council on the Market House, rather than the rise in violence.

The 29 October 1859 issue of the Star featured this scathing letter decrying the Los Angeles Common Council's undue concern for the Market House, while murders were taking place in and near the town.

While, as stated before, most of the building was for commercial markets with a city-appointed "market master" to handle management, city hall was moved into the building and the mayor, Damien Marchessault, was empowered to rent the city hall portion for public uses as he saw fit--this was clearly a way to bring income to help pay for expense of renting the city's portion of the building.

There was some pushback from the city's merchants, though, about the conditions imposed by ordinance about green grocers and butchers being limited to using the Market House, so the council agreed to allow game, poultry and vegetable to be sold anywhere in the city between 9 a.m. and 4 p.m. from 15 September to 15 March--an interesting compromise that included sales at the Market House to be carried out on the Sabbath.  Later, some citizens requested permission from the council to build another market house "north of Old High Street" in what was the Sonoratown area north of the Plaza, though nothing came of the request.

Meanwhile, council member and special committee member Griffin petitioned and was given permission to be allowed to rent the second floor "for the purose of lecturing and other entertainments."  This led to the creation of what was called the Temple Theater, the first true theater, though short-lived, built in Los Angeles.

Now, what this has to do with criminal justice will soon be seen in the next post or two concerning the fate of the Market House for that purpose.

As for other matters before the council concerning criminal justice, 1859 saw the first references to the hiring of special police officers, when, early in the year, Mayor John G. Nichols appointed four men to serve as a night watch.  Moreover, these men were partially paid by citizen subscriptions, though it was pointed out that, given the city's precarious financial condition, more funds would be needed.  Consequently, council members Foster, Griffin and Cristobal Aguilar were appointed to review how to continue with employing the special officers.

Also from the 29 October 1859 edition of the Star is this piece about the need for a city police force to deal with "the numerous outrages which have lately disgraced our city."

By mid-April, however, the quartet, who were paid $70 per month had to be let go after three months because the Common Fund couldn't sustain more work for them and they were discharged.  Early in December, a citizen petition to the council asked for the specific appointment of William McLoughlin as a city policeman for the area at Los Angeles and Commercial streets.  This was referred to the police committee, which recommended an ordinance giving the mayor, now Damien Marchessault, the power to appoint additional officers when necesary "particularly in certain localities, when the citizens thereof are willing to defray the expenses."  That part of town was the home of some of the town's most successful merchants, like Harris Newmark and others, but there had also been a spate of crimes committed in town recently, as well.

In early May, the new council was seated and heard reports on city prisoners.  The mayor was requests to make any contract regarding prisoner maintenance that he saw fit and then to return the document for approval.  At the meeting of the 9th, the council "resolved, that the clerk call the attention of the City Marshal, to the Ordinance defining his duties."   Marshal Frank H. Alexander's negligence was not specifically identified, however.

Mayor Marchessault returned the following week to report on a temporary arrangement made with jailor Smith for prisoner maintenance and one specification was that "for all Indians after trial and who are not taken out of jail—the jailor to be allowed for their board thirty-seven and a half cents per day.  White person detained in like manner—he shall be allowed fifty cents per day for their board."  In December, though, on the suggestion of the marshal, the police committee suggested equalizing the amount, so that Indians also had their board set at 50 cents per day and this was approved at the meeting of the 26th.

There were also problems with others and the mayor requested an ordinance that would prohibit "idle and lewd persons from running and loitering about the streets of the City."  This was followed the next week by a police committee suggestion, in which its members "recommend that the Statute of the State be put in force against vagrants and other idle vicious persons, in lieu of an ordinance."  There was a law on the books in California concerning "vagabonds and other suspicious and dangerous persons" and there was a vagrancy provision in the town's 1855 ordinances, but there seems to have been a desire for something stronger.

The Spanish-language newspaper, El Clamor Público, listed newly elected city officials, including the mayor, Common Council members, and the marshal in its 21 May 1859 issue.  Thanks to Paul Bryan Gray for providing microfilmed copies of this newspaper.

Later in the year, at the end of September, a citizen petition appears to have provided an example of the perceived problem as the document concerned "two saloons on Main Street in front of the house of John G. Nichols [former mayor], where large numbers of idle persons assemble day and night, where money is lost and won, and continued disorderly conduct is observed."  This matter was referred to the police committee.

Financial problems were referenced when Marshal Alexander asked for an increase in salary at an October meeting and nothing came of it and when jailor Richard Mitchell repaired the jail and asked for reimbursement for the use of lime and whitewash, but the request was rejected for unstated reasons.  Mitchell then resigned and Francis J. Carpenter, a former jailor, became the marshal.

The 1850s ended with many of the same issues in play as at the beginning of the decade, whether this be financial uncertainty, issues regarding the treatment of Indians, problems with the city marshal, and what to do with disorderly conduct.  There was a hint of improvement with the movement of the city hall into a new modern brick building rather than the decaying adobe houses that served this function, albeit cheaply for the city's meager budget.  The 1860s would lead to some further changes to try and improve conditions for the city's criminal justice administration system in a variety of ways.

The Los Angeles Common Council and Criminal Justice, 1850: Part Two

As the first Los Angeles Common (later, City) Council enacted the town's original set of ordinances, it had to reconsider some of its positions upon reflection.

At its 16 August 1850 meeting, the council's Police Committee, consisting of council members Alexander Bell and Manuel Requena, resubmitted its report, claiming that the second and third articles proposing a prohibition on the carrying and discharge of firearms, which clearly was a problem in Los Angeles and would only get worse, should be scrapped as being impossible to enforce.

Manuel Requena (1802-1876) came to Los Angeles with the Hijar-Padres colony that included Agustín Olvera and the Coronels (Ignacio, Manuel and Antonio Franco), all of whom became prominent political and/or legal figures in Los Angeles.  Requena was twice alcalde (roughly akin to mayor) in 1836, during which time the town's first vigilance committee was formed, and in 1844.  He was a Common Council member for several terms in the years 1850-67, on the first county Board of Supervisors, and in other positions of responsibility.  He was a merchant and vintner, as well.  From the California Historical Society Collection, University of Southern California Libraries, U.S.C. Digital Library.

In their stead, Requena and Bell recommended a new second article requiring that "all City prisoners must be sentenced within two days" on any conviction for violation of ordinances and that the third would manadate that when the city did not have work for the chain gang, prisoners could be turned over to the public on the highest bid not less than the sum of their fine "and for double the time which they were to serve out at hard labor."  Although this was generally expressed, it became clear that the majority of those affected by what became a vicious cycle of enforced manual labor were native Indians--a point raised in this blog before.

Four additional ordinances were suggested by the committee.  First, the recorder was to be empowered to enforce penalties and collect fines, turning these monies over to the city treasurer every eight days.  Second, the recorder was to present a monthly report concerning prisoners arrested, those convicted, what the fine paid was and providing a list of those who served their sentences on the chain hang.  Then, another was that only those arrested for infractions of ordinances were to be city prisoners, "but criminals, apprehanded by the officers of the City, shall be held at the disposition of the County Judges."  Finally, the marshal would be required to enforce ordinances and report to the recorder those persons who were arrested, as well as "any important news that may transpire."

As the council deliberated upon the revised report, the new second and third articles were quickly approved, as was one about the banning of card playing in public.  On the fifteenth article concerning sentences and fines, Morris Goodman moved that article ten's limit on operating hours of retail establishments allow for a variance for those who lived in their shops, but this was denied by the council.  The body did, however, amend that article so that "no spiritous liquors shall be sold after the hour of eight p.m. in winter and after nine p.m. in summer."

Further discussion was had about the severer sentence and fines for those who polluted the town's zanjas (water ditches) and who allowed cattle to roam untied, with Casildo Aguilar suggesting a much lower sentence of rought half the jail time or fine, but this was rejected.

The listing for Manuel Requena in the 1850 federal census, actually taken on 18 January 1851.  He listed no occupation, but was shown in later censuses as a retired merchant and a vintner.  His self-declared property value of $14,500 was substantial.  Notably, betwen 1860 and 1870, when so many residents of Los Angeles, especially Spanish speakers, saw declines in wealth during a period of floor, drought and economic instability, his declared wealth remained consistently in the low $20,000 range, indicating that Requena was still quite prosperous.

At this and without considering the four new articles, council president Requena asked for a roll call and the vote was 4-2, with Jonathan Temple abstaining and then requesting an adjournment, but Requena, perhaps hoping Temple would change his mind and vote, asked for another call--but, again, Temple abstained and the vote was the same.

The next meeting, on 30 August, included Requena and Bell's request for an amendment to the sentencing, so that jail time would be no longer than 10 days in any case and this was approved, giving half of what Aguilar had requested two weeks prior.

The first two of the added ordinances regarding the recorder's responsibilities were approved, but the third was amended so that any reference to the disposition of criminals by county judges was stricken, presumably because there would be cases in which this was not so, whether to the town's justice of the peace or to the District Court.  The last of the ordinances specifying the marshal's duties was also approved.

Los Angeles's first ordinances were then established, although the eternal conflict between the making and the enforcing of laws would, naturally, ensue in short order, especially in the battle of limiting the hours of selling liquor, disturbing the peace, "furious" horse riding, keeping the zanjas clean, and others.

At this, a major change in the council's demographics was effected by the resignations, for reasons not recorded, of Casildo Aguilar and Julian Chavez.  The council then called for a special election on 9 September at El Palacio (The Palace), the substantial adobe residence of prominent merchant Abel Stearns.

Two days after the election, the council gathered on the 11th of September and the replacements of Aguilar and Chavez were sworn in, these being Wilson Jones and Benjamin D. Wilson.  Interestingly, Wilson was also county clerk and there was discussion about a potential conflict of interest, though the city attorney, Benjamin Hayes, determined that there was none.

The election results meant that, instead of an ethnically-balanced council, the body was now composed of six Americans and one Californio, this being president Requena.  The meeting concluded with a call for a special meeting two nights later at the home of Alexander Bell.  The next post will follow the activities of the council from there.

The Los Angeles Common Council and Criminal Justice, 1850

While Congress debated and dithered about what to do with the newly-conquered possession of California, residents took matters into their own hands and adopted a constitution in late 1849 and set elections for April to get the machinery of government going in newly established counties.

The spring 1850 elections included a seven-member "Common Council" for Los Angeles--incidentally, the "Common Council" existed for nearly forty years until a new city charter was adopted and the term "City Council" was employed starting in 1889.

The first council members, who began their work at an inaugural meeting on 3 July 1850, included:

• President David W. Alexander, who hailed from Ireland and came to Los Angeles from New Mexico in 1842, working as a merchant; 
• Cristobal Aguilar, a native Californio who held offices in the Mexican era and went on to serve several terms as a council member, mayor and county supervisor; 
• Alexander Bell, an American merchant whose nephew Horace has been often discussed in this blog; 
• Julián Chavez, a native of New Mexico who came to Los Angeles in the 1830s, also holding office in the Mexican era, and was a council member and county supervisor at various points into the 1870s, as well as being the namesake of Chavez Ravine; 
• Morris Goodman, the first Jew to serve in an official capacity in Los Angeles, was a council member for four years and was later a deputy sheriff and briefly a county supervisor.  Later, he was a merchant in Anaheim;
• Manuel Requena, a native of Mexico who came to Los Angeles in 1834, was alcalde (equivalent to a mayor) shortly after his arrival, but also was a long-time council member and supervisor; and
• Jonathan Temple, the second American or European to live in Los Angeles, arriving in 1828, and who served on the ayuntamiento (council) and was a treasurer during the Mexican era.  Temple's political involvement in the American era was limited, however, and he was a merchant and rancher with a great deal of property and wealth.

In its first meetings, the council was concerned with finding suitable and affordable quarters for city business, with Temple offering an adobe building for county use.  This would be considered a conflict of interest now, but the looser standards of the time applied and the structure was leased from him.

Salaries for city officials were established, including a $2000 salary for the mayor, $500 for the city attorney (who, however, collected fees for elements of his work), $600 for the council secretary, and $600 for the city marshal, who originally was going to be paid strictly in fees for the processes he served.

Another early item of business was negotiation with the county on a better jail.  At the time, the administration of county affairs was with the three-member Court of Sessions, composed of county judge Agustín Olvera and two associate justices from townships in the county (the Board of Supervisors was established in 1852 when having the court try to manage the county's business and maintain a busy criminal and civil court calendar was just too much).  

The Sessions court requested some lots and a $2000 city subsidy for a jail and Temple and Requena were appointed to conduct negotiations.  On 20 July, the duo recommended that the city provide a lot for a jail, so long as the city could make use of the facility, and for no charges to the city except for maintenance of prisoners sentenced under order of city officers.  However, they advised the council to send its regrets that there was no possibility of ponying up the $2000 requested by the court.

By the end of July, the council worked on proposed rules for its operation, including the creation of several committees, one of these titled the "Police" committee, though this really meant, "to attend to everything touching the comfort, health and adornment of the city," rather than crime.  Requena and Bell were the first members of this committee and, on the last day of the month, were asked to report at the next meeting on a draft ordinance of "Police Regulations."

Here's an early view of the Plaza Church, built in 1822 and still standing on Main Street across from the Plaza.  To the north is a portion of "Sonoratown" and, in the distance, a piece of white-fenced Calvary Cemetery, now the site of Cathedral High School (New Calvary was moved to East Los Angeles later).

At the 7 August meeting, Bell and Requena made their suggestions.  The first was that "the city's prisoners shall be formed in a chain-gang, and occupied in public works."   This system, in effect for years, was highly controversial, mainly because of the vicious cycle perpetrated on native Indians, who were generally paid in alcohol at the end of the week, got drunk and were arrested and jailed, and then sent out to work off their fines, because they weren't paid in money.  The next weekend, the situation was repeated and it was a blight on the city's operation.

The second recommendation concerned a proposed prohibition on carrying guns, except by those "whose occupation makes its use necessary," presumably the marshal, constables, sheriff and deputy sheriffs, although this was not specified.

Another questionable suggestion was:

the police shall gather in the vagrants of both sexes, putting them under arrest, and the Recorder [a short-lived position in government] shall assign them to serve private parties under proper and just conditions.  Those who relapse into vagrancy, shall be confined in the chain-gang, until they produce a bondsman prepared to give a pecuniary security, at the Recorder's option, guaranteeing the vagrant shall in future be engaged in some useful occupation or leave the City limits.

Just how it was proposed to properly enforce this ordinance, defined "proper and just conditions" for what was essentially penal servitude, and guarantee a vagrant's "useful occupation" and a few of the key questions to be asked about this strange recommendation.

Other suggestions included allowing no pits in city limits, requiring each householder to clean the front of his residence to the center of the street, keeping filth, clothes washing and the slaughtering of cattle away from streets and zanjas (common water ditches), and mandating that all cattle had to be tied to tame oxen.

Recognizing the problem Los Angeles had with dozens of drinking houses, Requena and Bell proposed that every shop or tavern owner as well as anyone who had a structure of two or more rooms "shall put a light at the door during the first two hours of every dark night."  Shop and tavern proprietors were to close at 8 p.m. in the winter and 9 p.m.in the summer.

Curious proposals continued, including the proposed prohibition against riding horses or other animals at a "furious rate" and a proscription for those walking the street "in a scandalous manner" who would "molest the neighbors with yells or in any other manner" if it was later or if "the offender be intoxicated."  In these latter cases, the Recorder was to be empowered to fine the offender $10-25 and impose a chain gang sentence of 10-25 days.  This punishment was also recommended to anyone who played cards in the streets "regardless of the kind of game" or any game that was played in gambling houses taxed for the privilege of allowing gambling.

After discussion, there were amendments and approvals for all, with one notable change coming concerning a different sentence for public disturbance for native Indians: "If he be an Indian, he shall pay a fine of three to five dollars or be imprisoned eight days in the chain-gang."  When Requena requested a roll call, the vote was 5-2 to accept the ordinances as amended.

By mid-August, however, it was realized that portions of the ordinances were just unrealistic--this will be picked up at the next post!

The Los Angeles County Courthouse, 1861

After being housed in a succession of aging adobe houses and after attempts to institute a bond issue failed twice with voters, Los Angeles County went back to a lease arrangement for another location for the county courthouse.

In 1859, prominent merchant and rancher Jonathan Temple, who had, several years earlier, sold the Rocha Adobe for use as a courthouse, constructed a commercial building called the Market House.  This two-story brick building was, apparently, modeled after Faneuil Hall in Boston, not far from where Temple was born and raised.  A deal in late January was reached by which the city would rent the building at 1 1/4% of its construction cost over a decade and that the city had an option to buy the structure at the end of that period.

On the last day of September, the common (city) council voted 4-2 to approve accepting the building as a commercial structure to be operated by the city, through an appointeed "market master," and rates were set for rentals.  In early November, Dr. John S. Griffin received approval to rent out the second floor as a theater--this was the first true theater built in the city.

An early view of the Market House, which became the Los Angeles County Courthouse on 1 May 1861.  Courtesy of the Workman and Temple Family Homestead Museum, City of Industry, California.  Click on any image to see them in enlarged views in separate windows.

The problem was that, by the time the building was completed, the county's economy was on a downturn, stemming from the decline of the Gold Rush, a national depression that erupted in 1857, the overstocking of cattle that were no longer commanding good prices in the market, and other factors.

Though the city then utilized the Market House for the leasing out of stalls for stores and other business enterprises, it was not very successful.  By the end of the year, the council approved the lowering of rent for stalls.  Early in 1860, Mayor Damien Marchessault was calling for the issuing of bonds so that the city could buy the building.

Meantime, the county looked for a solution to the courthouse problem by appointing a special committee on 9 February 1860, pursuant to a judicial order to find better quarters.  In June, the Common Council and the supervisors worked out an arrangement to turn the Rocha Adobe courthouse space into a police station house.  On 10 January 1861, the supervisors voted to seek yet another courthouse bond issue to present to the voters.

However, at the same time, the common council proposed renting the Market House to the county  In the 26 January 1861 edition of the Los Angeles Star it was reported that "our city authorities are proposing to the Board of Suervisors for the county to take the market house for county purposes, for courts, offices, etc."  The paper seemed enthusiastic about this proposal, noting that "we should be glad to see some plan adopted to help the city, as it is now losing $153 per month on the building," meaning the adobe of former mayor John G. Nichols, being used for the court house.

The Los Angeles Star, 16 February 1861, editorialized on the need for a new courthouse and that the failing city market in Jonathan Temple's Market House was an idea solution.

On 16 February, the Star editorialized that "we are in want of a county Courthouse, with offices for the various departments  of the public service, a county jail, &c.  We have a City Market, which we do not require, and which can be very easily converted into suitable rooms for all public purposes."

The paper also observed that the proposed $20,000 bond issue, but stated that the renting of the Market House was a better financial decision and asked rhetorically, "Do our citizens think, in our present embarrassed condition" that it was better to go that route, rather than have a bond issue with interest as debt to pay in future years?

Moreover, it was stated that, at the conclusion of ten-year lease, the county could have the option of buying the building and at a price one-half of the original cost of construction.  The paper asked another pair of rhetorical questions: "Are not both city and county drifting pretty rapidly into bankruptcy?  Shall nothing be done to stay this downward course, or shall $30,000 be added to the present burdens?"

Two days later, on the 18th, the Board of Supervisors formed a committee to explore the possibility of renting the Market House from the city, which had its own committee to work with its county counterpart.  On 4 March, the supervisors voted to lease the ground floor from the city at $200 per month, with the city agreeing to install the necessary partitions for conversion.  The agreement would take effect when the current lease with Nichols expired at the end of April.

The 9 March 1861 issue of the Star reported that the county Board of Suepervisors "have resolved to lease the City Market for the use of the Courts and County Offices."

On 1 May 1861, the new agreement officially began and the county moved into the Market House, including the courts.  The Nichols building was then turned over to a new citizens' militia: the Los Angeles Grays.

Things did go all that smoothly at the outset--on the 1st of July it was noted that neither the District Attorney nor the County Judge had an office in the Market House, so it was ordered that a new one be established between the supervisors' meeting room and the stairs to the second floor for both judicial officials to use.

At least, though, there was finally a structure that was a significant improvement for the operation of the courts and, pardon the pun, had at least the appearance of the proverbial "temple of justice" that a courthouse was typically thought to embody.

The Market House would remain the county courthouse for nearly thirty years, though there was the matter of purchasing the structure that became the next major milestone--more on that to come.

The Los Angeles County Courthouse, November 1856

There were several Los Angeles County courthouses in the first dozen years or so of the American era.  For a few months after the formation of the county in 1850, the adobe house of longtime merchant Abel Stearns, called El Palacio, was used.  The large one-story structure sat on the east side of Main Street and later was razed by Stearns' widow, Arcadia Bandini, and her second husband Robert Baker for the construction of the ornate Arcadia Block.  The site is now where Main crosses the 101 Freeway.

Then, the county contracted with another prominent American, Benjamin D. Wilson and his partner Albert Packard, to use a portion of the Bella Union Hotel, also on Main Street, but a bit south of El Palacio, for court uses.  The hotel served in this function from Summer 1850 to early in 1852.

From there, the courthouse relocated to the adobe house of Benjamin Hayes, who was a city attorney and, for a dozen years, the District Court judge.  From early January 1852 to November 1853, the courthouse actually functioned in the former home of one of its own judges.

The county had explored the idea of building its own courthouse and would do so for years to come, but the only feasible financial option was to acquire another adobe building.  The Rocha Adobe was acquired from yet another prominent American, merchant Jonathan Temple, in August 1853 for just over $3,000.

The Rocha Adobe, situated on the west side of Spring Street, between Temple and First streets, needed some work, so the county budgeted $1,000 for repairs and renovations.  It was also decided to construct a new county and city jail in the courtyard of the adobe, but more on that in a subsequent post.

Despite the moderate improvements to the adobe, the deplorable condition of the building sometimes elicited comment in the press.  None of these was more pungent and potent than an editorial in the Los Angeles Star, dated 29 November 1856.  Likely the piece was penned by the paper's colorful editor, Henry Hamilton, though there is no way to know for sure.  In any case, this jeremiad is worth some attention.

The article began by asking "who was the architect . . . or in what age it was built."  After mockingly observing that the structure bore "marks of genius," he went on to say that "no other man than the projector could have succeeded in placing his victims in positions ensuring them such torture, as the judges, jurors, lawyers and officers must endure, condemned to long sessions in this terrestrial purgatory."

The first paragraph of a Los Angeles Star editorial concerning the decrepit condition of the county courthouse, 29 November 1856.

The court room was denoted as a "hog-pen" in the form of a "compressed parallelogram . . . with the smallest possible modicum of breadth."  In the northern portion, there was "a crib . . . in which the Judge is condemned to ruminate, chewing the cud of bitter fancy."  It was suggested that a judge would be so bitter to toil from that locale that "God help the poor sufferer who is condemned from that box—the verdict of a jury is bad enough, but when it comes, double-distilled, from that judgment-seat, the acrimony of misanthropy must, unwittingly, mix itself up with the gall of defeat."

After expressing the hope that a judge may someday have quarters befitting the name of a true courthouse, instead of an "augean stable," the piece continued that the bench was so cramped that "if he shifts his position, his heels must go up and his head down" and that "set him right side up . . . [and] nothing can be seen but the tip of his nose, or two keen eyes."

In sympathy, the editorial lamented, "Alas, poor judge, often have we silently sympathized with you, in your solitary cell."

Yet, it appears the judge had it fairly easy compared to the gentlement of the jury, according to the piece.

But the jury box, Gracious powers!  The man who constructed the "iron cage," was tender-hearted as a woman, in comparison with the projector of this device of Satan.  The builder must have been fresh from the culprit's doom—a verdict of guilty,  That's certain.

In fact, the article went on, those who concocted the concept of the jury box "should be, in the first place, convicted under the statute against cruelty to animals" and then sentenced to "occupy the same position for double the length of time [as jury service]—if they survive that, they should be excused from jury duty for the remainder of their natural lives."

As for the clerk, his space was "in a cage just big enough for one side of his record book—the other half has to trespass on his neighbor's grounds."  There was no discernible means of entering and exiting, evidently, and the author asked "why a clerk of a court, who is supposed to require, and usually has ceded to him, considerable space for his books and papers, should be thus cooped up, no one but the renowned architect of this building could conceive."

The end of the mocking jeremiad about the deplorable state of the Rocha Adobe.

All paled, however, in comprison to "the accomodations for the Bar—the caps the climax."  The space for attorneys "is an immense four-by-nine area.  It can accomodate one man and a chair at a time. If you put in a second man, you must take out the chair."  A table was considered a luxurious item, so an attorney "may write on the crown of his hat, if it be a stovepipe—if not, he must borrow one or do without writing."  Consultations between clients and their counsel had to take place outside the structure.

Finally, there was the matter of cleanliness, or the lack thereof, according to the writer of the tirade.  Aside from the "cribbed, cabined and confined dimensions of the room, is to be considered the quantity of dust and filth . . . which no amount of sweeping or cleansing can keep away."  With all of this in mind, the editorial concluded

we cannot sufficiently admire the ingenuity of the builder in the construction of such a house for such a purpose, nor the patience of the public—judges, jurors, and lawyers, who quietly submit to the infliction.

Whether there was a good deal of exaggeration or not in this piece, the Rocha Adobe continued as the courthouse for a few more years and this will be the subject of the next post.