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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Eternity Street" Is a Must-Read

After devoting two marathon sessions Saturday and Sunday to the 513-page Eternity Street: Violence and Justice in Frontier Los Angeles, this blogger can unequivocally say that John Mack Faragher's new book will be a classic for its evocation of the "culture of violence" that existed in Los Angeles up until the mid-1870s.

Not only does Eternity Street deal with criminal violence, vigilantism, the struggle for a reasonable administration of criminal justice and the high level of support for popular justice in the town, but it also spends a good deal of time examining the precursors of violence in the Spanish and Mexican periods and the American conquest of Alta California.

One of the more unusual aspects of the book is an examination of domestic violence, which Faragher identifies as being a direct link to the criminal violence that plagued the community, especially as the male-dominated nature of the household transferred itself, with respect to a sense of entitlement, to positions on popular justice held by many in Los Angeles.

Faragher and his five research assistants did a very thorough job in researching and his structure, broad viewpoints, comprehensive coverage and analysis, and beautifully evocative writing style make Eternity Street a must-read for those interested in crime, the administration of justice (or lack of) and the general history of frontier Los Angeles,

Congratulations to Faragher for his achievement, which is the first full-length treatment of its kind about early Los Angeles.

There is still one more chance to hear him talk about this fine book tomorrow night at 7 p.m. at Vroman's Bookstore in Pasadena.

Horace Bell: Reminiscences of a Ranger, Part Four

In his 1881 memoir, Reminiscences of a Ranger, Horace Bell opens his third chapter with an account of more lynching, starting with the February 1853 story of a man named Smith who "was arrested at San Gabriel, summarily tried by a hastily constituted lynch court, and sentenced to be hung instanter."  Bell went on to write that Smith was taken on a cart, driven to a nearby oak tree, where a rope was hung around his neck and slung onto one of the tree's branches and ready to meet his maker "when old Taylor, from the Monte, put in an appearance and interposed on behalf of Smith."

With this admonition, it was stated that constable Frank Baker (of whom we will hear more about in an upcoming post) took Smith into Los Angeles and confined the prisoner in jail.  Then, Bell continued, "the city lynch court thereupon held a meeting, at which a man decried the waste of tax monies for the administration of justice, though Bell said the unnamed individual was not on the assessment roll, which was the same for those most likely to agree with the speaker.

After it was suggested that Smith be tried by the tribunal and hung if guilty and freed if not, this same man led a group of "the ragtag and bobtail of the gambling fraterity" over to the jail (the same noted in an earlier post about the city's calabooses that had a single log running along the floor with staples to which prisoners were chained).

Bell went on to suggest that jailer George Whitehorn "made some show of resistance, but was soon overpowered" and Smith taken to another building under guard, while a tribunal was seated.  According to this account, "they proved nothing whatever against Smith," but another unnamed man moved that Smith be given fifty lashes at the Plaza and released.  When this was voted down, Charles Norris, a petty criminal of repute in town, moved that there be eighty-five lashes and that Smith be sent to Jurupa and a United States Army camp there as deserter.  This evidently was approved by the assemblage.

Then, Bell continued, "a Mexican who had severely cut a pie vendor with a knife" was brought in for consideration of the tribunal's attention and "a chilvalrously inclined gambler suggested that fifty lashes would be a sufficient punishment."  Consequently, those present voted to give him the same number as Smith.  After an Indan brought "an armful of stout willow switches," Bell stated that "the Mexican culprit dramatically came to the front and begged the privilege of being whipped first, saying that he was a man of honor, was no thief, had only used his knife when insulted, and he thought he was entitled to that much consideration."

This was, apparently, approved and the man tied to a post in front of the building, while "the Indian stepped forward with an air of intense satisfaction" to administer the whipping "to the great delight of the assembled patriots."  Taking his punishment with little show of feeling and getting dressed, the Mexican man evidently brandished a smile and a provided drink and stated, "Now I will have the pleasure of seeing this damned gringo whipped."

Bell claimed that Smith addressed the crowd, saying "Gentlemen, I am an American; and it is disgrace enough to be publicly whipped, but surely you will not have a gentleman whipped by an Injun" and requested a white man be appointed to apply the punishment.  Supposedly, a new arrival "from across the plains" agreed to accept $16 cobbled together by the spectators (gamblers) and laid on the switches as Smith took "an occasional pull at his flask . . . filled with brandy and gunpowder."  Some of the gamblers present did not like a white man doing the whipping for money and gave him a violent blanket toss.

This event was covered in the Los Angeles Star's edition of 12 February 1853, in which Smith's real name was said to be Isaac D. Martin and that he and a man only known as Williams were accused of stealing horses from El Monte.  A San Gabriel resident, Jesse Hildreth, was told by a lodger that Martin and Williams were in the area with the stolen animals and locals were alerted so that a trap was laid for the thieves.  While Williams managed to escape, Smith was captured at a nearby house and calls for his immediate execution were made "but a proposal to bring him into town prevailed."

While no mention was made of who convinced the crowd to take this course, Michael White, a long-time resident of the area near the Mission San Gabriel, recalled in an 1877 interview just four years before Bell's book was published that Martin (Smith) and Peter Williams worked for him for a time before going to El Monte, where they stole the horses.

According to White, it was Joseph Caddick who "caught Smith in the act, brought him with a rope around his neck to the mission, [and] threw the end of the rope over the limb of a tree."  White said there were about thirty men present as this was going on, including a lawyer who queried him on whether it was horse stealing warranted a hanging.  White reported that he pled for the mob to spare Martin's life and they agreed by taking him to Los Angeles, where "they gave him 39 lashes" and gave him 24 hours to leave town or he would be hung.  White also noted that Martin confessed his crime to Frank Baker while en route to Los Angeles.

The Star did report on "a lynch trial" held "by some persons in town" on Tuesday the 8th, and that "no one [was] appearing to oppose it very strenuously."  After there was the posting of some noticed, the paper stateed that "a small number of persons met" with the result that Martin "was sentenced to receive 78 lashes."

This punishment was inflicted the same afternoon, the account ended, "Smith [Martin] and a Mexican passing through the ordeal together."  There was no detail of the whippings provided, only a concluding note that "Smith has made tacks, and is now at liberty to resume his profession."  It should be added that the paper began the piece with:

Our citizens have suffered so severely in the loss of stock by thieves within the last year, that they are now extremely careful and vigilant and it requires an old hand to practice the horse-stealing profession to advantage.  Within the last ten days a party of Americans who have been following this nefarious business for a long time, have been effectually routed.

This statement is a reflection of the fact that, as the California Gold Rush brought hordes of treasure seekers to the coast, some of them, finding little success in the Sierra Nevada mining regions, drifted to towns and cities for easier ways to make money.  San Francisco had its vigilance committee in 1851, so many criminals steered clear of the City by the Bay.  Los Angeles, which had a very lucrative trade with the gold fields in fresh beef from its often-enormous and well-stocked cattle ranches, was an attractive target for thieves, who also had wide open spaces in all but the western direction for their escape.

Notably, there is a case file in the county court records, from 5 February, for a Justice Court hearing on a William Smith, charged with grand larceny on "Joseph M. Catrick" and Santiago Lobo for a stolen horse.    Moreover, Caddick, in July 1852, was charged in the Court of Sessions with an assault to murder James R. Barton, the future sheriff of the county and there was a co-defendant, the same Charles Norris Bell said motioned for Martin's punishment.  There was no disposition in that case, but there must have either been a dropping of the charge or an acquittal.  As for Norris, he was charged with the assault to murder of constables William Reider and Moses Searles and a man known only as Scofield in October 1851, but there is no known disposition in the matter.

So, again, Horace Bell's accounting of historical events may be filled with detail, including lengthy quotations recollected decades later, and based on some measure of corroborated fact, but there is much that either cannot be reconciled with other sources or appear to be enhancements for effect.

Horace Bell: Reminiscences of a Ranger, Part One

For those interested in the history of nineteenth-century Los Angeles, there are two autobiographies that are standard reading: that of merchant Harris Newmark, who arrived in the town in 1853, and the one written by Horace Bell, who predated Newmark by a matter of months, coming to town in 1852. The difference between the two is dramatic, however,

Newmark's book, Sixty Years in Southern California, published in 1913, is a collection of factual reminiscences laid out chronologically, offering relatively little commentary, and, frankly, lacking a sense of narrative and story.  Subsequently, many people use Newmark almost like a reference book, picking out the book when they want to learn more about a person or event.  He has been and will continue to be utilized here on this blog with great frequency.

Bell is an entirely different chronicler in his two works, Reminiscences of a Ranger (1881, reprinted in 1927) and On the Old West Coast, published in 1929 after his death.  While he liked to refer to himself as a "truthful historian," Bell was far more interested in telling rollicking, action-packed, character-based tales than laying out a series of facts.  Anyone with a good general understanding of the 1850s, which is the period in which Reminiscences largely takes place will be able to find many substantial errors and energetic exaggerations in Bell's text.

This is, in no way, a suggestion that Bell not be consulted.  His books are highly entertaining, but they need to be taken with a factual grain (or two or dozens) of salt.

A native of Indiana who came, as so many thousands did, to Gold Rush California in 1850 when he was barely out of his teens, Bell migrated south to Los Angeles in late 1852 where he had an uncle, Alexander Bell, a prominent merchant (though, strangely, Bell never refers to him as a relative in Reminscences when he talks about him at all.)

His detailing of the stage ride from the rudimentary harbor at San Pedro to the village of Los Angeles is the template for how the rest of Reminiscences is written.  The prose is lively, full of alleged, colorful quotes by the people Bell wrote about and replete with italics and exclamation points to hammer home the feeling about the wild frontier community that the author was determined to make as clear as possible.

While Bell delighted in talking about desperadoes, card sharks, immoral and unethical bigwigs, fallen women, gambling houses and other places of entertainment, and the like, he professed to have an aversion to discussing the horrors of extreme violence and the accompanying atmosphere surrounding much of Los Angeles' sordid criminal history, even as he often betrays himself by doing just that.  Still, he claimed that his purpose was to take more of a lighthearted approach, using comedy filled with irony and no small amount of critical commentary about events and persons.

Later an attorney and publisher of a relatively unknown weekly paper, accurately styled The Porcupine, Bell had an acidic, aggressive and confrontational style when it came to those contemporaries he did not like, while he could, on the other hand, be effusive, warm and highly complimentary of those he did.  Often the objects of his disdain went nameless in the text, except for some mocking sobriquet, such as "a most useful man" or "Old Horse Face."

When it came to criminal matters, Bell found himself arriving in Los Angeles just as a major event was taking place.  Joshua Bean, general of an Indian-fighting militia and owner of a San Gabriel salloon, was recently murdered and, the day after settling in, Bell found "a very small adobe house, with two rooms, in which sat in solemn conclave, a sub-committee of the great constituted criminal court of the city."  In other words, he stumbled upon a popular tribunal of citizens acting, ostensibly, in support of the legally-constituted courts in trying the matter of the men accused of killing Bean.

Bell, soon to join a militia of citizens formed to fight crime known as the Los Angeles Rangers (covered here in recent posts) and later a filibusterer with William Walker in Nicaragua, portrayed himself in Reminiscences as diametrically opposed to vigilantism.  In mocking tones, he reported upon the "very refined proces of questioning and cross-questioning" utilized in the tribunal and the way in which any contradictory statements made by a defendant who was "frightened so badly that he would hardly know one moment what he had said the moment previous" were considered "conclusive evidence of guilt."

It is interesting in this case to compare Bell's account with that of the sole newspaper in town, the weekly Star, and, in fact, the Bean murder will be covered here in more detail later.  For now, it is enough to say that the several men subject to the popular tribunal were, not surprisingly, found guilt and lynched.  While it was rumored that the legendary Joaquin Murrieta (or one of the several possible variations of him said to be roaming California) was directly involved in the Bean murder, Bell accepted his presence as an incontrovertible fact.

Having heard the substance of the trial, Bell departed and saved the hanging of the condemned men for a later, dramatic discussion, complete with a rainstorm, bursts of thunder and the like, and went on to talk about how Los Angeles "was certainly a nice looking place" in the midst of a Gold Rush windfall that enriched a great many ranchers and merchants in the small town through the lucrative cattle trade.

His tour on that second day in town, of course, included the more colorful establishments in town, including the many grog shops, gambling dens and other places of entertainment in and around the Calle de los Negros, known by Anglos as Nigger Alley, though the place was actually named for a dark-skinned Mexican who lived there in previous years.

This is where Bell made his famed, unsubstantiated, but generally accepted allegation that "the year '53 showed an average mortality from fights and assassinations of over one per day in Los Angeles."  He went on to say that "police statistics showed a greater number of murders in California than in all the United States besides, and a greater number in Los Angeles than in all of the rest of California" for the same year, though there is no citation, naturally, for the sources.

As noted here previously, there are other sources that suggest that the murder rate in Los Angeles was far lower and, almost certainly, far more accurate, but even at a few dozen documented murders in a given year, for a town of just several thousand, the rate is still astronomical.  What Bell doesn't discuss in any detail is just why the conditions were present for such a marked rate of murder in Gold Rush-era Los Angeles.

In any case, there is no question that crime and violence were mind-numbingly high in a community lacking monetary and material support for policing and court operations, abundant in young men from many ethnic and racial backgrounds and willing to fight out their differences in many kinds of circumstances, including those fueled by alcohol as well as prejudice, and awash in a sentiment that encouraged personal (or even group) justice over existing legal structures.

Bell's exaggerations serve the purpose of the dramatic storytelling that animated him, even if the grains of truth in his assertions need to be picked out and analyzed at a level of detail and corroboration he studiously avoided.  Still, his accounts are valuable because they are so rare and, again, because his style is so fun to read.

The next post takes us to his association with the Rangers and other tales of crime and violence in 1850s Los Angeles.

The Los Angeles Rangers in the Saddle, September 1853

Within a couple of months of its formation, the Los Angeles Rangers paramilitary group was receiving coverage in the Los Angeles Star newspaper for its actions in the field.

The 17 September 1853 edition of the paper noted that the previous Monday, the 12th, "the Rangers received notice that seven horses had been stolen from this vicinity."  Five of the organization's members, W.T.B. Sanford, H. Z. Wheeler, William Getman, John Branning and Cyrus Lyon "were detailed for the pursuit," under Sanford's leadership.  As noted here previously, Sanford would be a deputy sheriff and Getman both city marshal and sheriff, albeit for only days before his killing in January 1858.

The group rode north from Los Angeles and headed toward the Santa Clara Valley, passing through today's Santa Clarita via the San Fernando Pass and took "the old Santa Barbara road" (where today's State Route 126 heads west towards Ventura) to see if the thieves were in that direction, as reported.  They may, in fact, have been headed to the famed Rancho Camulos, just over the county line in Ventura County, but "they were overtaken by a vaquero, and informed that the thieves were discovered."

At that, two of the company ventured ahead and "without difficulty, secured one of them," while "the other succeeded in escaping, on foot, into the mustard."  Recovered were "two horses belonging to Don Julian Olivera."  With that, the quintet, after 2 1/2 days on the hunt, returned to Los Angeles by Wednesday night and "their prisoner is now in jail in this city. He is a Sonoreño, named Jesus Vega."

Sanford requested the paper offer his thanks to Vicente de la Osa and Juan Bautista Moreno "for their kind hospitality extended to the expedition."  It was reported, however, that "other rancheros demanded of the expedition the highest prices for the services they rendered."  Noting that the organization was a volunteer one doing its work without seeking payment or reward, the paper chided that "it would seem but a small think for those whose property is exposed, to freely supply the few necessities of this company."  Moreover, the Star observed that "every expedition which the Rangers have undertaken, has been successful" and that "the whole community are under obligations to them."

The article concluded by noting that "the recent expedition of Mr. Brevoort [another Ranger officer], for the arrest of the feloow supposed to be [an] accomplice with Vergara" had received due hospitality and support at the ranchos of La Puente, from William Workman, John Rowland and Rowland's son-in-law John Reed, and Chino, from Isaac Williams.

Manuel Vergara was killed near the Colorado River on suspicion of the murder of Los Angeles merchant David Porter in an ambush on the road to the harbor at San Pedro the prior month, but the alleged accomplice was not named and no further news was offered about the man, who was probably released.

As to Jesús Vega, the suspected horse thief, he was tried on grand larceny charges before the county Court of Sessions on 21 November 1853.  The value of the horses taken from Manuel Dominguez of the Rancho San Pedro, but the case file showed no disposition of the case.  There is also no listing of Vega as among the Los Angeles County prisoners who served time at San Quentin, so he either was convicted and served his time at the county jail, which seems unlikely, or was found not guilty.

This 17 September 1853 article from the Los Angeles Star details activities of the Los Angeles Rangers in the pursuit of suspected horse thieves northwest of the town.

There was one other incident around the same time involving the Rangers.  On 21 September 1853, a rape was attempted against Antonia Margarita Workman de Temple, daughter of the William Workman who extended hospitality to the Rangers in the Brevoort chase and wife of recent supervisor and Los Angeles city treasurer F.P.F. Temple, on the Rancho La Merced, in today's South El Monte area.

According to the Star's article on the 24th, Isidro Alvitre rode up to the Temple's adobe residence "and enquired for Mrs. T., who endeavored to deceive him by saying she was in the field.  He alighted, however, and seized her around the neck, making known his purpose."  When Mrs. Temple struggled, "she broke away from him and escaped into the field," where ranch employees met her and escorted her back to the house.  The paper continued that "she returned and found the foul fiend watching her; but on the approach of the men, he mounted his horse and rode off to his father's house."

The Star continued that, the following day, "a detachment of the rangers and many of our substantial citizens, went out to examine the case, and, if necesary, to inflict such punishment as would serve as a warning to all such men, disposed to violate the sanctity of domestic life."

A public meeting was then "called to order by Judge [Jonathan R.] Scott and Samuel Arbuckle, Esq. was appointed chairman, and Hon. S.C. Foster, Secretary."  Scott was an attorney and judge, Arbuckly was an attorney, and Foster was soon to be the mayor of Los Angeles and involved in one of the most notorious instances of vigilante justice in early 1855, a topic to be covered here soon.

David W. Alexander, a future two-term sheriff and Los Angeles Ranger, John Reed [mentioned above as a rancher at Rancho La Puente], and Andrés Pico, brother of the last governor of Mexican California, a Californio hero in the Mexican-American War, and frequent vigilante justice particpant, were appointed to find a jury of twelve men to hear the case against Alvitre.  It was reported that, upon being arrested, he refused "and offered to send his father or brother for him."

This popular tribunal proceeding's jury was composed of Sanford, Brevoort, Andrew Sublette, Geman, and Ozias Morgan, all active Rangers, as well as Scott, Juan María Sepulveda, H.S. Alanson, J. Minturn, John Brinkerhoff, John Aikin, John W. Shore.   When the examination was concluded, during which, evidently, Alvitre's defense was that he was drunk, the Jury naturally found Alvitre guilty and sentenced him to a staggering 250 lashes, a head cropping and that he "he leave the county as soon as his physicians pronounce him able to do so."  Moreover, if Alvitre was found to be back in the county "that he be hung."

The punishment was summarily inflicted, perhaps by a member of the Rangers, although there was no identification of who carried out the brutal whipping.  The paper observed that "many were in favor of hanging the prisoner on the spot, as he was a notoriously bad character."  The article continued that Alvitre "is represented as a man of low intellect, whose instincts have ever been the steal and to stab.  He is covered with scars, and must have been engaged in many desperate affrays.  He is known to all the rancheros as a great cattle thief."

Alvitre did survive the awful punishment inflicted upon him, but was said to have died the following year--likely from the terrible injuries he received.  He became the first of several members of the Alvitre family, which was of long standing in the area known as Old Mission or La Misión Vieja at Whittier Narrows, where the Mission San Gabriel was first located from 1771 to about early 1775 before it moved to its current location.  More on that family will be posted here, as well.