The Barton Massacre of 1857, Part Three

As the end of January 1857 approached and within a week of the murder of Los Angeles County Sheriff James R. Barton and three members of his posse, Los Angeles constables Charles Baker and William Little and volunteer Charles Daly, the manhunt for the killers from the Flores-Daniel Gang intensified.

Reported mainly in the Los Angeles Star, with some coverage of El Clamor Público in their editions of 7 February, the efforts centered mainly on the Santa Ana Mountains in what today is eastern and central Orange County.  As noted previously, there were several companies of volunteer cavalry formed in Los Angeles, but, in this location, there appeared to have been two major groups, one of about two-dozen men from El Monte and another of about fifty Californios, led by Andrés Pico.  It was also said that there were over forty Indian guides employed, because they best knew the rough territory of the mountains.  Pico was also reported to have developed the plan of pursuit that was adopted by everyone.

Initially, these two were separate in the searches, but, on Friday the 30th, when Pico made it known by messenger that he was guarding a canyon where it was believed the gang was hiding--this being Santiago Canyon, the El Monte contingent hastened to unite with the Californios.  Indian scouts, meanwhile, not only located a contingent of bandits, but managed to get one of them, Antonio María Varela, to turn on his fellow bandits and arrange a means for their exposure and capture.

An initial attempt to pounce upon the bandits was foiled by weather, but then the next morning, another foray proved more successful.  Flores did see the coming posse and began to scale a mountain while forcing Varela to move ahead of him at gunpoint.  When some El Monteans arrived to reinforce the Californios, Varela was able to escape and surrender himself to Tomás Sánchez, one of Pico's lieutenants.

Part of the Los Angeles Star coverage of the pursuit of the Flores-Daniel Gang, 7 February 1857.

As Pico and his men followed Flores and a few bandits up a steep mountain, a message was sent to the Americans who were camped at Trabuco Pass, but hastened to join Pico.  What then transpired was remarkable for its daring by the desperate bandits seeking any means of escape.  According to the Star, Flores, Espinosa and López (Tapia) "slid their horses down a precipice to a kind [of] shelf about fifty feet below, where they abandoned them and scaped down a precipitous ledge of rocks, about 500 feet high, by aid of the brush growing on its side."  From there, the trip made off on an adjacent mountain, concealed by thick chapparal.

The trail was picked up, however, by an El Monte force and were spotted, though the trio "attempted to evade them by hiding in a cave in the cañada."  A gun battle erupted and one El Monte man was wounded, but sheer force led to the surrounding of the three and they were captured.

While this was done, Francisco Ardillero was caught by El Monte men as he tried to flee down the mountain.  Juan Silvas, who could not bring himself to follow Flores, López and Espinosa on their reckless, but successful, downhill trek, turned himself in to Pico's men.  Notably, Pico, bothered by the escape of Flores, Espinosa and López (Tapia), made the decision to summarily execute Silvas and Ardillero.  They were hung from a tree and it is said that this "hanging tree" still stands on the property of the Irvine Company (Irish native James Irvine bought up huge tracts of land during the drought-stricken doldrums of the mid-1860s for pennies per acre.)

The hangings of Ardillero and Silvas met with very little comment from either paper initially, with the Star barely making mention at all, while the report in El Clamor was matter-of-fact, observing that "it was resolved to execute them so that they would not be able to easily escape."  The paper did, without explanation, refer to "the famous Güero Ardillero," whose true name was never revealed.

Coverage of the lynching of Juan Silvas and Francisco Ardillero, El Clamor Público, 7 February 1857.

Whether the Flores-Daniel gang consisted of some fifty men or considerably less when committing their depredations at San Juan, there had clearly been a dispersal of a good portion of their number, if only a half-dozen remained holed up in the mountains.  It was stated that Daniel, Andrés Fontes, Santos, and the man known then as Piquinini, had hightailed it to Los Angeles after leaving the Santa Ana Mountains.

Once the initial capture took place, it was decided to form three groups, with Pico taking his Californios and the Americans divided into two.  After a two days and one day, presumably meaning Sunday the 1st of February, some portion of the posses, apparently members of the El Monte contingent, "came in sight of the robbers who had escaped."  These three men then hightailed it for another location with a three-mile chase and some shooting involved with just four of the pursuers after the trio.  When the remainder of the hunters arrived and surrounded the hunted, these latter "seeing their position, laid down their arms and surrendered."

The Star reported that Flores had Sheriff Barton's watch and a cache of arms "and other plunder" was recovered.  Then, the prisoners were removed some five miles from the location of capture to the home of Teodocio Yorba on the Rancho Lomas de Santiago, in the hills of what is now Tustin and Irvine.  Camping there, the posse tied up the prisoners and had them guarded, but "from the negligence of the guard, the prisoners effected their escape."  Although a search was effected, it was fruitless and the pursuers returned to El Monte to resupply and reorganize, but on Wednesday evening, it was learned that another capture was accomplished.

The lauding of Andrés Pico and his Mounted Californians from the Star, 7 February 1857.

In the Abel Stearns Collection of the Huntington Library, Art Galleries and Botanical Gardens, there are a few surviving letters written in Spanish by Andrés and Pío Pico to John S. Griffin, who oversaw the efforts to capture the bandits, and Stearns.  One letter from Andrés to Stearns, dated 29 January, noted that "today at eight in the morning I arrived at this rancho [San Joaquin] with a force under my command numbering 32 men" and that several others were recruited from the ranch, with Pico ready to pursue the "malvados [evildoers]."

On 2 February, Andrés wrote to Griffin to give him an update "of all my operations, all of which I have told to all the Americans that accompanied me in these efforts."  Pico expressed the hope that they would quickly put an end to the manhunt as "I am tired."

From his "Ranchito" in present-day Whittier, Pío wrote to Griffin on 1 February, that "at 8 o'clock in the evening  . . . in Santiago [Canyon] they caught three more of the thieves, these are Juan Flores, Jesus Espinosa and Leonardo Lopez.  Nothing more came of this encounter other than that one of the Americans had a small injury in his arm."

In its coverage of the 7th, the Star did take time to compliment the citizens of San Gabriel and El Monte, as well as Californios for their labors in pursuing the bandits, but that 

the exertions of the Californian company, under Don Andres Pico, are the theme of all tongues.  Laboring under many disadvantages, besides but hardly armed [with lances, it was stated], they bravely set out on the arduous duty and well and nobly have they accomplished it.  They have earned for themselves the respect and admiration of the whole community.  It is pleasant to find that the only emulation among the Californian and American citizens is, who can best act for and defend, their common country.  Thus may it be.

Meanwhile, James Thompson, who became sheriff after Barton's murder, led over twenty-five men on a search to San Gabriel and then headed northwest through modern Pasadena, La Cañada, and Tujunga before emerging in the San Fernando Valley and making their way to Encino.  Detachments of volunteers and army personnel from the new Fort Tejon were dispatched to guard passes like San Fernando and Simi and roads leading north towards the Central Valley and west towards Ventura and Santa Barbara.

It was Simi that a bedraggled, famished and thirsty Juan Flores emerged from a concealed place in search of water, where two Fort Tejon soldiers spotted and then arrested him.  He had only a worn-out horse, no weapon and just a bit of dried beef for sustenance.  While he tried to pass himself off as a laborer from Mission San Fernando, he was recognized when brought to a camp.  Two others assumed to be part of the gang managed to slip through Simi when guards left their posts to seek forage for their horses.

Flores stated that, after he, Espinosa and López (Tapía) escaped from the Santa Ana Mountains, they had separated and he had not seen the other two, it appears that the two men who escaped through Simi were his compatriots.  Moreover, on the way with Thompson to Los Angeles, Flores claimed that it was Daniel who was the head of the bandit gang.  He had been wounded in his determined scramble down the steep slopes of the Santa Anas when he fell and his gun went off, striking his right arm.  Flores requested that he see a clergyman and write to his mother, before making his confession and making "ready for his fate."

The Star reported that Flores was calm while riding into Los Angeles until he got a look at the crowd waiting for him when he got to the jail and begged Thompson not to heave him.  He was then confined in a cell and clamped in irons "to await the action of the people."  Meantime, Espinosa and Daniel were nowhere to be found.

El Clamor Público, reporting on Flores's confinement, noted that he was calm and "seems unfeeling to the destiny that he expects."  It also stated that a "multitude of curious persons crowded to see so brave a man of whom so many daring feats are counted."  Evidently, one of the visitors asked him how he felt being a thief, to which the bandit coolly replied, "become a thief and you will know."  Otherwise, the paper observed, Flores was "asked a variety of questions and he responded to them with the greatest tranquility and courtesy."

In discussing the shared efforts of Americans and Californios in the manhunt for Flores and his compatriots, El Clamor noted that

it is a worthy thing to congratulate the good harmony that reigned during the campaign between the Californios, under the command of Don Andrés Pico and the citizens of the Monte . . .  In all of the efforts and adversities in which they were found, they helped each other with the greatest of frankness and cordiality.

The paper continued by noting that "by these actions, the Californios have vindicated their honor" and quieted the criticism of those who would identofy them with those they pursued.  The paper even expressed the hope that the success of the hunt would limit the motives of some to complain about the deficiency of the law and the "indolence of judges," while criminals would "choose another, more attractive place to exercise their abilities."  It suggested that Los Angeles, being "one of the most beautiful cities in California," with its "vineyards, fields and ranches inviting to enterprising men." could now expect a new era of tranquility and a growing, flourishing and happy population, in contrast to the murders and other crimes recently committed.

El Clamor was also very complimentary of the late sheriff, devoting a lengthy 14 February editorial to "this gentleman [who] was one of that energetic class of Americans who lived among us before the [Mexican-American] war."  Moreover, "the Californios knew him very well, and enjoyed his esteeem; and in his heart, we believe, was a friend of them, while he never lost his character and dignity as an American."  The paper noted that he was known as an industrious farm laborer and carpenter, but for four years was the city marshal and was a "model of a pure integrity and of a recognized value, and always distinguished by the calmness and firmness of his actions."  It specifically cited "his kind patience, as the tax collector, among our population."

The late Sheriff Barton was lionized in this El Clamor Público editorial, 14 February 1857.

The paper also cited his demeanor and behavior during a particularly trying episode, when a crowd sought the lynching of murderer Dave Brown, just after the legal execution of another convicted killer, Felipe Alvitre, was carried out in January 1855.  It was stated that "the firm conduct which he maintained in the execution of David Brown" was such that, "not all know that, the night before the event, he created his last will and testament" and that he was determined the maintain the trust of those who voted for him, and "was prepared to die rather than violate his duty," before being compelled to yield to the mob.

The editorial concluded that, "we have not told everything that can be said of Señor Santiago R. Barton.  It is but the feeble reflection of a character who deserves the deepest respect . . . [and]
no monument to his memory will be able to represent it truly."  Noting that Barton represented the supermacy of law, the paper claimed that this "is the true honor and compliment towards this lamented individual."

With all of the good feeling expressed by the press about the work of the joint companies in the search and capture of members of the Flores-Daniel Gang, there was soon a major fissure in the goodwill, based on news coming out of the mission town of San Gabriel.  This will be the theme of the next post.

Insurrection in Los Angeles County, July 1853!

Gold Rush-era Los Angeles was, by any standard, a hotbed of crime and violence.  An underfunded and understaffed criminal justice administration system was hardly equipped to deal with the spasms of criminal activity that frequently rocked the small frontier town.

Exasperation by the press and, presumably, many of the community's citizens, boiled over in an editorial in the 16 July 1853 edition of the Los Angeles Star.  The piece began with a simple observation, "This county is in a state of insurrection, clearly and plainly so."

This was, the article went on, because, "A large gang of outlaws, many of them expelled for crime from the mines are daily committing the most daring murders and robberies."  Obviously showing displeasure with the local legal system, the writer advised that, "Good citizens should devise plans to defend themselves."

This 16 July 1853 editorial in the Los Angeles Star claimed that Los Angeles County was "in a state of insurrenction" because of increased criminal activity.  Whether or not there was an actual revolt against the authorities, as opposed to a plethora of robberies and killings, is questionable, but the sentiment of concern over crime was palpable.

There were only two alternatives the editorialist could see.  One was that "orderly and industrious inhabitants must drive out this worthless scum of humanity."  The other was that citizens "must give way before the pirates [an interesting word choice there] and be driven out themselves."

A notable and rare reference to pre-American times was then invoked:

In the times of Micheltoreno [Governor Manuel Micheltorena, who presided over Alta California from 1842-45], when the country was infested by a horde of Cholos, thieves and murderers, the citizens mustered and drove the scamps to the seaboard, and then shipped them off to Mexico, where they belonged. 

To the author, "This was revolution, and just such another revolution is needed now."  Otherwise, the piece prophesied, it "will be too late when the assassin's knife has deprived the county of half her best citizens."

Consequently, the only real action was to "Let good citizens combine and drive the rascals headlong into the sea."

Now, there was almost certainly no little exaggeration, overrreaction and a faulty sense of history at work in this exercise in exasperation.  The overthrow of Micheltorena by rebels led by Pío Pico took place at Caheunga Pass in early 1845 and was about far more than just Micheltorena's notorious "guard" composed, it was claimed, of recently-released convicts (Cholos) from Mexican jails.

As to the claim that these "Cholos" were "thieves and murderers," that is not clear at all.  The one in-depth study of criminal justice in Mexican California, David Langum's 1987 study Law and Community on the Mexican California Frontier does not make any reference to increased crime during the Micheltorena years.  He did state that "Crime tended to be localized in the rural society of Mexican California."

There is also in the book a table of cases, compiled by Abel Stearns in the main Los Angeles court, that of the "First Instance," for the years from 1830-1846.  Of the 100 cases listed, 14 were for murder and 24 for theft and robbery.  On a percentage basis, these are not that far removed from statistics for the American era, other than the general scale for crime was much lower in the Mexican period.

The same issue of the Star included this account of the killing of Mexican-born Dolores Martinez in "the upper part of the city," an area commonly known as "Sonoratown."  The piece noted that an inquest of Justice of the Peace (later County Judge) William G. Dryden led to a verdict of Martinez being shot "by a person or persons unknown."

The same day as the "insurrection" editorial were short articles about a homicide and the capture of a horse thief by the Los Angeles Rangers para-military organization.  1853 was also when legendary bandit Joaquin Murieta was spotted throughout California, sometimes in several places at one, before his supposed capture and killing.

In general, there were many crimes and acts of violence plaguing Los Angeles and its outlying areas, so the sentiment expressed in the editorial is understandable.  Whether there was an "insurrection," defined in The American Heritage College Dictionary as "an open revolt against civil authority or a government in power, or not is debatable.

However, this wouldn't be the last time that kind of language was used.  In July 1856, after a deputized constable, William W. Jenkins, killed  Antonio Ruiz, who was being served with a writ of attachment for a $50 deby, and after the January 1857 murder of Sheriff James R. Barton and members of a posse riding to capture bandits near San Juan Capistrano, the fears of a revolt against authorities and "whites" generally were bandied about considerably in the press and elsewhere.

Certainly, in times of higher criminal activity, in an area often brimming with ethnic tension, the tendency to react with more emotion and fear is common.  Whether these impressions are based on real or imagined conditions is another matter.