2017's Curious Cases Programs at the Homestead Museum

Here is the promotional card for the Homestead Museum's slate of offerings for the third year of its "Curious Cases" program, dealing with crime and criminal justice from the 1850s to the 1870s.  Note the dates for the presentations and when reservations can begin.

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, 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.

Advice on Policing in Los Angeles from 1851

In late spring 1850, the Los Angeles region was ushered into a new age with the recasting of the town's governance and legal system.  The Mexican-era civil law system with an alcalde, ayuntamiento, and other officials were replaced with an American common-law structure with a mayor, common (city) council, city marshal, county sheriff, and a new grouping of courts and judges.

What was not incorporated initially was a formal police department, as the town's marshal and his deputies were charged with keeping the peace.  As the town grew during the intensity of the Gold Rush sweeping California, criminal activity and violence also skyrocketed.

Frustration with what seemed an unchecked tide of crime and violence, citizens clamored for a stronger organization and the common council responded by creating a police department, led by chief Alexander W. Hope.  The force proved to be short-lived, as economic reality dictated that it was simply too expensive with existing revenue to fund the department.

Tax rates were very low by modern standards, being fractions of one percent of every $100 in taxable property, so there wasn't much money available for much of any infrastructure.  For example, public schools weren't even in the picture yet, water delivery was limited to existing zanjas, or earthen ditches, and sewers were decades away.

Still, there was an initial effort to have a police department following trends developing in eastern American cities, which only recently had moved away from volunteer watch systems to paid police officers.

This letter to the editor of the Los Angeles Star, published in the 16 August 1851 issue, just a couple of months after the launch of the town's first newspaper, addressed some concerns, however, with the operations of the fledgling department.

Subscribing himself as "Order," the writer began by suggesting that officers "be required at all times when on duty, to be armed . . ."  By modern standards, this seems baffling to have to recommend police officers carry weapons, but it appears that in 1851 Los Angeles, some peace officers, were, in fact, unarmed.

Continuing, "Order" stated that officers should also "be instructed carefully as to what rights they have in case of resistance" and that it was necessary "to have clear and positive orders as to the disposal they can make of a prisoner when arrested."

He noted that, the previous evening, a man was arrested "under aggravating circumstances" and then released to go home without a weapon.  Yet, just twenty minutes later, the same individual was found "'spreading himself'" with a revolver "to the terror of one of the prettiest and otherwise quietest balls I have ever seen in the town."  It took some effort, evidently, to wrest the weapon away from the subject, to the extent, "Order" claimed, that "a fatal result came very near being necessary . . . for want of firmness at the outset."

The conclusion was that "This 'six-shooter" business must be kept in check," particularly at social events like the ball at which the incident took place.

Incidentally, references to "six-shooters" in the letter are interesting because the Colt revolver had been introduced to the market in 1849. This was just in time for the uproar of the Gold Rush, in which hordes of young single men, free of the restraining influences of home and family (if they had these), fueled by alcohol, and armed with the latest in weaponry technology, found themselves in a place with almost no workable government, law enforcement system or judicial system.  Moreover, Gold Rush California was filled with people from many ethnic groups, including Chinese, Mexicans, Americans, Europeans and more.  Even in the best of circumstances, this assemblage could hardly be expected to get along well and California was certainly not in the best of circumstances.

Los Angeles may not have been in the hotbed of activity in the gold fields, but it did have an important role as a waystation to and from the mines and points south and east.  Its population was in flux and its saloons, gambling houses, brothels and other "places of entertainment" were breeding grounds for much of the crime and violence that gave the "City of Angels" its devlish reputation.

"Order" was likely representing the view of many others in the community that improvements to law enforcement, along with the courts, was an imperative in the town and county.  Yet, for years afterward, rampant criminal activity and ineffective policing and court operations plagued the town.

Future posts will highlight this struggle to come to terms with these issues, so check back soon!