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.

Native Indian Forced Labor in the Los Angeles Criminal Justice System

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Big House: San Quentin State Prison and the first Los Angeles inmate

Due to inertia in Congress , the status of California, seized from Mexico in 1847, was in limbo for two years before citizens, most of them new Gold Rush arrivals, clamored for the creation of a government.  This led to the 1849 constitution and the seating of the legislature, which met at the end of that year and into 1850.

Notably, however, there was no provision for a state prison during that first legislative session, despite the fact that Gold Rush California was experiencing levels of violence that were far above and beyond anything else experienced in the United States and, perhaps, the world.

California's second governor, John McDougall, who took office on 9 January 1851, succeeding Peter Burnett who had resigned the seat, was briefly the superintendent of the Indiana state prison in 1846 before he served in the Mexican-American War and then headed to California for the Gold Rush.  McDougall evidently encouraged the legislature to do something for the state's convicts.

On 25 April, "An Act providing for securing the State Prison Convicts" was passed along with a slew of legislation to revamp the incomplete criminal laws passed in the first session.  The problem, however, was money, because the state was not collecting much in the way of tax revenue, so the governor was said to have encouraged a private lease arrangement.

Consequently, Mariano G. Vallejo, a prominent Californio, and James M. Estell were given the contract to manage the prison, which was to be built by the state, and then to utilize the convicts for labor.  Vallejo and Estell agreed to manage the housing and feeding of prisoners, subject to review from a board of inspectors of three men selected by the governor and who would file an annual report.

By 1852, McDougall was not nominated by his party for election to the governor's chair (he had succeeded to the position as lieutenant governor) and Vallejo bowed out of the prison deal, so Estell recruited the former governor and others as partners.

Estell was the controlling interest and formed the "San Francisco Manufacturing Company" to operate prison labor from the existing county jails before the state prison opened.  As the legislature worked out details for the construction of a prison, Estell subcontracted with two men to keep the state's convicts, from December 1851 onward, aboard their ship, the Waban, anchored at first at Angel Island in San Francisco Bay and then off Point San Quentin at the north end of the bay.  Although the Waban had a capacity of some fifty persons, there were something like three times that many imprisoned there.

Meantime, the prison commission, including McDougall's brother, George, James Graham and chhair Horace Carpentier, a former Oakland mayor, chose San Quentin, off which the prison ship was anchored as the site for the new prison, deciding this location over another near Martinez, further east.  The state paid $10,000 for 20 acres.

Architect Reuben Clark was hired to draw up the plans for the structure, but estimated a more than half million dollar cost, which was clearly not practical.  This paled in comparison, however, to the sole complete proposal from a contractor, which totaled $725,000 (lowered from an initial $1 million estimate.)  To add to the comedy, it appeared that the legislature's intent was to spend no more than $100,000!

This page from the San Quentin prison register includes the listing of inmate 113, Juan Moran from Los Angeles, admitted on 16 October 1852 for a three-year sentence of manslaughteer (even though the listed crime on the register is "Murder.").  Moran first served his sentence aboard the bark Waban anchored off the shore at San Quentin until the first cell block, "the Stones," was completed at San Quentin in 1854 and Moran was released in October 1855.

Meantime, an 1853 report on state prisoners noted there were 157 men crammed aboard the Waban.  The first Los Angeles County prisoner sent up north was Juan Moran, convicted in the Los Angeles District Court on 6 October 1852 for the manslaughter (the original charge was first-degree murder) of Jose Dolores, an Indian.

Ten days later, Moran was transferred north.  A post on the Trembling on the Brink Facebook page noted that Moran was admitted to San Quentin, but this was an error.  Moran was actually housed aboard the Waban when he registered on 16 October to begin his three-year sentence.  The 30-year old native of Mexico, who worked as a saddler, was described as 5'5 1/2" tall with a dark complextion, dark eyes and black hair.  Moreover, he was said to have a "wound on left under jaw" as well as three scars on his face.

Two days before his arrival, the contract for building the first structure at the prison was let.  Moran and his fellow inmates slept on the ship at night and worked to build the prison by day.

In 1854, the first cell block, called "the Stones," opened and the prisoners, including Moran, transferred from the ship to the new facility.  There were 48 cells on the second floor of the structure, measuring 54 square feet, which was standard for a solitary confinement.  Naturally, no prisoners were held in solitary because of the number of men needed to be housed in the new building.  In fact, there were as many as four prisoners per cell.

Moran did not long stay in "the Stones," having been released after serving his term in October 1855.  Yet, his confinement in the hold of a ship anchored in San Francisco Bay and then in a cramped cell at San Quentin could have been nothing but miserable.

Not surprisingly, escapes were frequent in those early years of the state prison system.  Estell reported in 1855 that there had been about a hundred men who tried to break out, with about 40% successful in doing so.  Many of the 60% who did not make it were killed; notably, Estell did not provide a number of those who died in their efforts to escape.

Future posts will discuss more early Los Angeles convicts at San Quentin and about the prison.

Information for this post came mainly from a California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation newsletter article, which can be accessed here, and from the 1991 book, A Germ of Goodnes: The California State Prison System, 1851-1944, by Shelley Bookspan.

Los Angeles County Criminal Courts

From the establishment of Los Angeles County in Spring 1850, the court system in the region had essentially three levels for criminal matters.

At the lowest end of the spectrum was the mayor's court in Los Angeles and the justice courts in the town and outlying townships.  In these busy, but routine and continuously-operating, tribunals, the town's mayor and a justice of the peace would hear minor infractions of the law, including public drunkenness, disturbances of the peace and other petty crimes.  These cases, usually decided quickly during a session during the day or evening, garnered little attention.

Above these was the Court of Sessions, renamed the County Court by the mid-1860s, which heard almost all other criminal business, excepting the most serious of felonies.  It was so named because this court had terms specified by the legislature during the year.  The tribunal originally had a county judge presiding with the assistance of two of the justices of the peace from the county's townships.

This court also dealt with most of the civil cases held in the region and, for two years (1850-1852) was the governing body of Los Angeles County.  When this proved totally unworkable, it was decided to create boards of supervisors for each California county.

So, most cases involving property crimes and assault and battery prosecutions were heard by the sessions court, which kept the tribunal plenty busy and, usually, though not always, somewhat below the radar in terms of public attention.

This short article from the Los Angeles Star's edition of 6 March 1852 lamented the fact that the criminal cases arising from Court of Sessions were set aside due to imprecision in meeting the technical standards of state law.  This was hardly unique to this particular time, as inexact procedural processes plagued the system, leading to the overturning of verdicts, as well as the setting aside of cases generally, as was the case here.

Grand larcenies, serious assaults (intent to kill, with a deadly weapon, etc.), rape, and the several forms (manslaughter, second-degree murder, and first-degree murder) of homicide were usually (for a time, arson cases were heard at this level) the province of the District Court.

Whereas the other courts were operating within the county, the District Court had its jurisdiction in a much wider area througout southern California until the 1870s, when the court's district was within the confines of Los Angeles County (which did include what is now Orange County.)  That is, the district judge "rode circuit" holding legislatively-mandated terms in the county seats of the several regional counties.

The size of the district changed several times, so that, in earlier days, the judge might preside in cases as far north as San Luis Obispo and as far south as San Diego.  Ventura, Santa Barbara and San Bernardino counties were generally part of the First District, as well, though, again, the district shrunk in size as it grew in population.

Presiding over the most heinous of crimes, the District Court was given much more attention by the press and other observers.  It also had the problem of presiding over those cases that had the highest standards applied to criminal matters, so that convictions could be maddeningly few, especially those involving homicides, in which a unanimous verdict by the jury was mandated.  A lack of forensics, spotty evidence, and missing witnesses were among the hindrances to securing convictions for some of the most serious crimes committed in the area.

This blog will cover more detail on court operations, including how cases were prosecuted in court, who the prominent attorneys and district attorneys were, who the judges were, and how court cases files, even with their minimal contents (as governed by statuete), can give us a provisional view into the operations of the court system in the early days of the common law system in Los Angeles.

So, check back for more in coming weeks and months!