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.

The Barton Massacre of 1857, Part Two

As the melancholy news of the murders of Los Angeles County Sheriff James R. Barton, Los Angeles constables William Little and Charles Baker and volunteer Charles Daly reached town late on Friday, 23 January 1857, it didn't take long for the sadness to manifest itself into anger and then vengefulness.

The first report in El Clamor Público on the 24th stated "it is impossible to give an idea of the feelings of pain and consternation that this sad news will cause the friends of Mr. Barton" and then noted that the bandits faced "a terrible retribution . . . for the wickedness of the crimes they have been committing."

A week later, the Star offered this passionate statement:

Will their deaths be unavenged—will the people rise in their might, and seep the villains and murderers from the face of the earth—or will the present deep feeling be allowed to exhaust itself in idle complainings?  Time will tell.  Four of our best and bravest have fallen.  Their blood cries from the ground for vengeance.  How long?

Details were provided in both papers in their editions of the 31st, including the fact that, on the 21st, Garnet Hardy, whose brother Alfred survived the attack, was rode with goods for San Juan Capistrano and was warned there that he would be robbed and killed if he showed himself.  It was Hardy who was the victim of a robbery of three horses valued at $225 by Juan Flores and Juan Gonzalez, for which the two men were convicted in April 1855 of grand larceny and sentenced to three year terms at San Quentin.  On 8 October 1856, Flores and Gonzalez escaped from the prison and headed south with compatriots--it is possible they did so with the express purpose of exacting revenge for their convictions.  Gonzalez was later recaptured and returned to San Quentin in July.

Details of the massacre as published in the Star, 31 January 1857.

Hardy wrote to his brother in Los Angeles about the threat to him and Barton was notified, with the formation of the posse being the result.  On Thursday, though, the robberies of Garcia, Charles, Krazewski and Pflugardt and the murder of the latter took place.  It was said that, at the store of the latter, the criminals, "ordered his assistant to serve up supper for them on the counter, where they deliberately ate it, the dead body lying before them all the time."

Friday morning, Barton and his men reached the Sepulveda home at Rancho San Joaquin and were told that there were some fifty men in the gang, but this warning was ignored.  Pressing on twelve miles more, the little posse encountered a lone rider a mile off, and Little and Baker headed out to follow him, at which some twenty men, it was reported, attacked.  By the time, the Sheriff and the volunteers arrived (it was also stated there was an unnamed and unarmed French guide with the group), the Los Angeles constabes were dead.

It was reported that one bandit was heard shouting, "God damn you, I have got you now," to which Barton replied, "I reckon I have got you too."  Horace Bell, in his account of the incident in his Reminiscences of a Ranger, claimed he was told by Andres Fontes, one of the bandits, that it was Fontes who uttered this to the sheriff.  But, the account on the 31st in the Star stated that it was Daniel who killed Barton and that the former was considered the captain of the group until he was wounded by the sheriff in his futile return fire.  Flores, reported to have killed Baker, then took control of the gang after Daniel was incapacitated.

Daly, who was on a mule, managed to ride three miles while being chased before he was overtaken and gunned down.  Hardy "seeing Barton fall, called to Alexander, stating, also, that he had lost his pistol" in the confusion and they galloped straight for the Sepulveda place, narrowly avoiding being hunted down by some of the bandits, of whom it was said three were killed in the melee.  After the bandits returned south, Alexander rode on to El Monte and Hardy to Los Angeles to break the news of the disaster.

What may have stirred the anger and resentment of the community at large more than anything, however, was what was found when the bodies of the dead quartet were retrieved and returned to Los Angeles for funerals and burials.  The bodies had been looted and Barton's papers were found torn into pieces, which were carefully gathered and reassembled later.  The sheriff's boots were missing as were the hats of Little and Baker.  Not only were the men found with bullet wounds from the battle but Barton was shot in the left eye and the constables were each shot in the right eye--this was clearly a message left by the bandits, who also shot Daly in the mouth, in what was an "execution style" desecration of the bodies after death.

The names of some of the alleged bandits were published, though it is unknown how that information was provided,  They included Daniel, Flores, Juan Silvas, alleged to have killed Little, Antonio María Varela, Gonzalez, a man known at the time only as Benito, Faustino Garcia, and twins Dolores and Lorenzo Ruiz.  There were, in turned out, more, as will be noted subsequently.

Almost immediately, a part of some forty men, headed by marshal William Getman, rode south to try to locate and ferret out the gang and spent Sunday and Monday, the 25th and 26th, at an abandoned camp, said to have been that of the bandits, and then at San Juan, where they were told that Flores and others had been there, "boasting that they were desperadoes and relating with exultation the incidents of the massacre, at the same time giving their victims credit for having fought bravely."  During this foray, an El Monte resident named only as Buckner accidentally shot himself and died of his wounds before the group returned to Los Angeles.

On Thursday the 29th a large public meeting was held in Los Angeles to organize a defense of the region and a manhunt for the killers, with the general coordination supervised by physician John S. Griffin, who came to Los Angeles with the invading American forces during the Mexican-American War.  Interestingly, several companies of citizen cavalry were pressed into service, including those consisting of French, German and native Californian citizens, while there were at least two American groups, with a large coterie of "Monte Boys" from El Monte in the lists.  Early on Friday the 30th, men from these different cohorts rode out to attend to their duties.

An editorial and article on the Barton killings in El Clamor Público, 31 January 1857.  A microfilm copy of the paper was provided by Paul Bryan Gray.

Writing about the events of the week, El Clamor Público exclaimed,

"Californios!  It is a friend who speaks to you.  For many years we have patiently suffered infinite calamities.  Our beautiful city has been the theater of innumerable murders, robberies, and crimes of every species.  Our families have seen infinite dangers and our isolated ranches have seen the evil incursions of thieves."  

 Noting that the Spanish-speaking community was "indissolubly tied with Americans," the paper called on its readers to respect the law and seek to protect life and propoerty.  It observed that "now is the time to prove that we are loyal to the country and are good citizens and that we desire to be united with all for the public tranquility and welfare of our families."
The paper went on:

Californios!  It is known that a squad of thieves walks, without principles, without religion, and without piety, stealing and murdering all that they find.  They respect no one: they steal as much from the American as the Californios; they murder the French as the Hebrew! . . . If by chance we find some of the criminals, do not hide him, but deliver him to justice so that, as a delinquent, he is to receive the punishment deserved and that he may be a lesson for those who have strayed due to the impulses of his bad inclinations.

It concluded by observing that "we are sure that none of our good fellow citizens shelter the thieves or offer the least sympathy.  We deny every animosity and we forget our misfortnes, being occupied only with the future of our families!"

The opening stanzas from verses by the teenage poet Ina Coolbrith, later a famed literary figure in California, written on 26 January 1857 and published in the Star on  the 31st.

Then, there was the outpouring of emotion by a young teenaged girl, a budding poet who submitted a lengthy meditation on the horrors attending the massacre of Barton, Baker, Little and Daly in stanzas ranging from melancholy to utter rage:

Aye, lay them rest in the damp, cold earth,

And “let there be wailing and weeping,”

For no voice but God’s can again call them forth

From the graves where they’re silently sleeping.

Yet first bend above them to take one last look,

At those who have passed through Death’s portal,

Ere the cold earth has closed over four as brave hearts,

As e’er beat in the breast of a mortal.

Then hark, to the sod on their coffin lids fall,

As their forms to the grave we have given ;

Never, no never to behold them again,

Till we meet them, all glorious, in heaven.

Alas, for their kindred in lands far away,

When, at length, they shall hear the sad story,

How the forms of their lived ones, far over the sea,

Were found, all so mangled and gory.

Parent, brothers and sisters, will mourn for the lost,

For, alas, they can never regain them,

And in heart-breaking sorrow will pray to their God

For revenge on the ones who have slain them.

Aye, revenge on their murderers!  Is there no true man,

Not one, to act as the avenger

Of the four noble beings who lost their own lives

In defending this people from danger.

Go, seek for the inhuman, ruffianly horde

Nor strive, as ye do, to avoid them,

Go forth in the names of the brave men they’ve killed,

And rest not until you have destroyed them.

And they, who are sleeping in death’s cold embrace,

Time can ne’er from our memory estrange them ;

Then, O! while the sod is yet damp on their graves,

Go forth, in God’s name, and avenge them.

Her name was Ina Coolbrith and, while she had published a few poems in the Star recently, she would later go on to fame as one of California's noted literary figures in subsequent years.  Her "Lines on the Recent Massacre" may be as redolent of the raging feelings of many in Los Angeles as any other writing from the time.  With this, we'll continue the story with the next post.

The Barton Massacre of 1857, Part One

On this date in 1857, the two weekly newspapers, the Star and El Clamor Público, in the little frontier town of Los Angeles (population somewhere around 4 or 5,000), reported that late news had arrived in town the day before of the massacre of Los Angeles County Sheriff James R. Barton and three members of a posse that he brought with him as he hunted bandits that had committed murder and robberies in the mission town of San Juan Capistrano at the southern reaches of the county.

For about a month prior, a group that came to be known as the Flores-Daniel gang rode down from the north and allegedly committed a series of crimes in Los Angeles before heading down to San Juan.

Said to be the principal figure, Juan Flores escaped from San Quentin prison on 8 October 1856 with Juan Gonzalez and another man and promptly made his way down the coast, assembling a group that appears to have been about ten or so persons, including purported co-leader Francisco "Pancho" Daniel.  As stories proliferated of their activities, however, the rumors ballooned the number significantly higher, into the dozens or much more.

In any case, the gang established themselves at San Juan, robbing several stores (those of Manuel Garcia, Henry Charles, Michael Krazewski, and George Plugardt), killing Pflugardt, and taking a group of horses from a San Diego man named Lopez, among other crimes.

When the news of Pflugardt's death reached Los Angeles, with the detail that the gang casually ate a dinner while the store owner's body lay on the floor, Barton, recently elected as sheriff after several years as Los Angeles's marshal, gathered up his little posse, and headed south.  The other members of this party included Los Angeles constables William Little and Charles Baker and volunteers Alfred Hardy, Frank Alexander and Charles Daly.

From the Los Angeles Star, 24 January 1857.

Barton and his crew stopped at the Rancho San Joaquín, owned by the Sepulveda family, to rest and resupply, but were sternly warned by the family that the gang was of a much greater number and that Barton was woefully undermanned.  A man reputedly of great courage, but also headstrong, Barton ignored the advice and proceeded towards San Juan.

News reports were spotty, because of the late arrival of the slaughter, but Barton and his posse saw a lone rider alongside the road and split into two, with one group pursuing the rider and the other continuing along the road.  As that highway dipped into a natural depression in the landscape, the attack commenced.  The battle was short and disastrous.

Barton, Little, and Baker were killed at the site of the confrontation, while Daly, who was inexplicably riding a mule and was somewhat removed from the battle scene, attempted to flee, but was overtaken after a few miles, and killed.

Alexander and Hardy managed, with their fleet horses, to make it back to San Joaquin and shelter, at which point the bandit gang, which had been hot on their heels, wheeled about and rode back to San Juan.

From El Clamor Público, 24 January 1857.  Thanks to Paul Bryan Gray for providing microfilm of the newspaper.

While Alexander rode to El Monte to alert the citizens there of the disaster, Hardy proceeded to Los Angeles to share the news.  In the next post, more details of the massacre and the early response will be detailed, so check back soon.

Meanwhile, today's Curious Cases event on the Barton massacre at the Homestead Museum in the City of Industry, is booked full (though you ,might call 626-968-8492 to see about stand-by status), but, for those who are interested, there will be a second offering of the participatory program at the monthly meeting of the Orange County Historical Society on Thursday, 11 February.  For more info, click here.

Horace Bell: Reminiscences of a Ranger, Part Five

As noted here before, Horace Bell, in his two volumes of memoirs, Reminiscences of a Ranger (1881) and On the Old West Coast (posthumously publised in 1929), had a habit of assigning fantastic qualities to certain figures, some of dubious reputation.  This was certainly true, in Reminiscences, with his portrayal of John A. (Jack) Powers (1827-1860).

To an admiring Bell, Powers, a native of Ireland who came to California during the Mexican-American War with Jonathan D. Stevenson's New York Volunteers and became well-known (that is, notorious) in San Francisco and in southern California, was "the most noted character, probably, in all California" in the early 1850s.  Powers was "a great gambler," "gifted with mental qualities of the highest order," had "a form and face physically perfect," and "under favorable circustances might have attained to the most honorable distinction."

Bell claimed he not only was admired by gamblers and the Spanish-speaking population, but was friends with two governors Frederick McDougall and John Bigler, who served consecutively from 1851 to 1856.  Moreover, Bell went on, Powers could have served in Congress or been governor himself.

The accolades continued:  "Jack was a power in this land" and he was chief of the community of some 400 gamblers in Los Angeles.  He also "was a lord in the land" with a fine ranch, raiser of hounds and race horses and "maintained an army of followers at his own expense, and boldly defied the authorities."

One of the more interesting aspects of Powers' life was his shielding of Edward McGowan, a police court judged purportedly involved in the murder of journalist James King of William, and who was wanted by the vigilance committee in San Francisco in 1856.

Although Powers was discharged after being indicted for harboring a fugitive in a trial moved from Santa Barbara to Los Angeles, Bell claims this was the end of Powers' glory days and "he concluded to fly the country he could no longer rule."  Powers decamped to the northern Mexican state of Sonora near Hermosillo where "those gentle and practical people . . . converted Jack to the most profitable possible use . . . they chopped him up and fed him to their pigs!"

Once again, with Bell, there is more to the story, even as he stated that some "tried to hold Jack up as an out-and-out highwayman", but to Bell, he was "a man born to be prominent in that sphere of life to which fate may have assigned him."  There are other versions--this blogger summarized Powers' life in an essay "Banditry in California, 1850-1875," published in Volume 1 of Icons of the American West, an anthology by Greenwood Press in 2008.

First off, Bell noted Powers' arrival with Stevenson's regiment but either was unaware or chose to avoid the fact that Powers was a deserter just before his ship left New York.  After his arrival at Yerba Buena, soon renamed San Francisco, in March 1847, just after the war formally ended, Powers was sent to Santa Barbara, where his company was noted for a lack of discipline, inclination to drinking and gambling and poor relations with the locals, causing military governor Richard Mason and his aid William Tecumseh Sherman, later of Civil War fame, to impose order personally.

When the Gold Rush erupted and soldiers stationed to protect the new American possession went AWOL in large numbers, Powers went to the gold fields and then returned to the boom town of San Francisco.  He became part of "The Hounds," a gang comprised of former soldiers and others who were in a semi-official capacity when they attacked Chilean miners and others in town.  Powers was among a group arrested for their role in these affairs and a public tribunal by vigilantes held, though Powers was acquitted.

Feeling the heat turning up, Powers headed back to the gold country, made some money and, after a brief sojourn in San Francisco, headed south to resettle in Santa Barbara once again.  Powers did claim a ranch along with Dr. Richard Den, a prominent man in the area, but Powers was said to have lost his claim as did the good doctor.  Powers was quoted as saying that, if he had not lost his claim to the property, he would have lived a different life, but did not elaborate on what that meant.  Bell, however, claimed Powers seized some artillery in Santa Barbara and held off the sheriff, his fellow Stevenson's Regiment mate W. W. Twist, and retained his position on his ranch.

Yet, it has been stated by writers about Powers that he controlled a long stretch of El Camino Real near present Los Alamos, south of Santa Maria and that Powers took over the gang of famed bandit Salomon Pico, when the latter headed for Mexico.

While Bell cited author Charles Nordhoff as claiming that Powers was "incapable of personally committing a robbery" and that Edward F. Beale, lord of the massive Tejon ranch corroborated this, it is actuallly the reverse.

Nordhoff's famed work California for Health, Pleasure and Residence quotes Beale as saying that "Jack Powers and his gang used to herd their bands of stolen horses on my own rancho as they drove them through the country."  It is true, though, that Powers was also described as a courteous man by Beale.

Powers was charged at least twice with crimes.  In the summer of 1853 at Santa Barbara he was indicted for his role in a murder committed by his fellow New York Volunteer Patrick Dunne.  After a deadlock in that county, the case was transferred to Los Angeles.  All that was filed, however, was an indictment and no evidence was presented at trial, so the two were freed.  In 1856, Powers was charged with harboring McGowan and the case also moved to Los Angeles, but there was insufficient evidence and he again was freed.  After Los Angeles County Sheriff James Barton and members of his posse were ambushed early in 1857, Powers was the subject of an arrest warrant on burglary charges, which may not have been connected to the banditry that led Barton to try and capture what became known as the Flores-Daniel Gang (this will be the topic of the next post).  Powers was ordered to attend a hearing at Los Angeles, but, again, there was not enough evidence to warrant a trial, so he was freed.

In a way, Powers might be called a "teflon bandit" for his success in evading conviction or prosecution for the four incidents cited here.  But, in 1858, two associates of Powers involved in crimes in San Luis Obispo County implicated him in the murders of two Basque men, though the confessions were certainly forced.  On the basis of these, Governor John Weller issued a $500 reward for Powers' arrest, but he and Dunne fled by steamer to Mexico.

Notably, Bell mentioned none of this, suggesting only that Powers "emigrated" after his influece waned by 1857.  It appears that Bell's tale of Powers would have been compromised if the linkage of him to murder and his fleeing (rather than emigrating) was to be included.

While Bell and other sources indicate Powers had a ranch in Sonora, others indicate he was a bit north of the Mexican border in the Arizona mission town of Tubac.  There he was killed in late 1860, either by Mexicans in his employ or by a woman he coveted and her lover.  Evidently, they dumped his body in a hog pen and only a few remains were retrieved for burial.  This certainly seemed a notably ignominious death for a man Bell claimed was a brilliant lord who could have ruled anywhere he chose.

The next post concerns the dramatic and vicious series of events dealing with the killing of Sheriff Barton and three of his posse in January 1857 and the aftermath that stretched out over almost two years.  Bell describes these events, as well, but, once again, his account should be questioned on several grounds.

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.

Curious Cases: Exploring Law and Order in Early Los Angeles

The second year of Curious Cases: Exploring Law and Order in Early Los Angeles, a program looking at notorious and fascinating criminal events in the region from the 1850s to the 1870s, is starting soon at the Workman and Temple Family Homestead Museum in the City of Industry (click here for the museum Web site).

The four-part series for 2016 looks at four dramatic events: the 1857 massacre of county sheriff James R. Barton and his posse by bandits in what is now Orange County; the Lugo Case of 1851, involving murders at Cajon Pass, the implicating of two members of the well-known Californio family, and out-of-town bandits looking to make a quick buck, but instead coming to a gruesome demise; a group of mass lynchings in late 1863; and the lynching of multiple murderer Michel Lachenais in late 1870.

For each of the parts, there will be a PowerPoint-illustrated lecture giving background on the events, followed by a group discussion in which participants will be given some primary source material (newspaper accounts, court record information, autobiography snippets, etc.) to help guide the interchange.

Themes involving criminal justice administration, popular justice (vigilantism), race and ethnicity and others will be explored during the discussions.  In each case, there'll be some connections made to present-day situations--and there have been many controversial law-and-order matters in our country in recent months and years.

The dates are 24 January (Barton massacre); 15 May (Lugo Case); 14 August (1863 lynchings); and 16 October (Lachenais lynching) with reservations opened about six weeks ahead of time.  For the first installment, coming up two weeks from today, it is recommended to call or email ASAP to make your reservations.  The Homestead Museum number is 626.968.8492 and the email address is info@homesteadmuseum.org,

In something new for this year, two of these presentations are traveling.  The Barton massacre installment will also be presented at 7:30 p.m. at the 11 February meeting of the Orange County Historical Society (click here for the Society's Web site), held at Trinity Episcopal Church, 2400 N. Canal Street in Orange.  The Lugo Case program is going to be offered on 5 June at the A.K. Smiley Library in Redlands, with details still being worked out.

A bonus to the Curious Cases roster is a special lecture on Saturday, 6 February at 2 p.m., at the Homestead Museum, by award-winning historian and Yale professor, John Mack Faragher, based on his brand-new book, Eternity Street: Violence and Justice in Frontier Los Angeles.  Reservations are also open for that event--again, by contracting the museum at 626.968.8492.  For more on Prof. Faragher's book, please click here.

Meanwhile, please keep checking back with the Trembling on the Brink blog for more history of crime, violence and criminal justice from the 1850s to the 1870s, as well as the Trembling Facebook page here.  There is also a Twitter feed for the latest news on blog posts, which is here.

Horace Bell: Reminiscences of a Ranger, Part Three

Generally speaking, if Horace Bell, in his 1881 memoir Reminiscences of a Ranger, liked someone, he would not only lavish praise on them, but refer to them by name.  If, however, he had contempt for an individual, they were referred to by some usually mocking phrase or title, such as Old Horse Face (Abel Stearns) or "the man from Arkansas," the latter being the subject of this post.

Bell's book began with this arrival in the rollicking Gold Rush town of Los Angeles just in time for a popular tribunal, presided over by "Old Horse Face", in judgment of men accused of the murder of San Gabriel saloon-keeper and militia general Joshua Bean.  In his colorful way, Bell described his version of this extralegal proceeding and then went off on a variety of tangents and diversions, some covered here in the previous two posts.

He then returned to the matter of the sentencing of the several prisoners, with Stearns calling for and receiving a motion for the death sentence of hanging and the motions were entertained for each, including one that turned over one man, who Bell claimed was the true killer, over to the legally-constituted authorities.  That story will have to wait for a fuller discussion of the Bean murder, however.

Horace Bell's fantastical tale of how the Los Angeles Rangers engineered a "court martial" of marshal Alveron S. Beard seems totally fabricated, but sure is fun to read.

When it came time to execute those found guilty by the vigilante tribunal, Bell stated that "an immigrant from Arkansas had been stalking around the streets for some days previous, in a ragged and half-clad condition" and then offered to serve as the hangman.  Bell continued, "a purse was accordingly raised in his behalf, and the great man from Arkansas became the hangman of the mob."  Moreover, the day afterward, it was stated, "the uncouth Arkansas man appeared on the streets dressed in the very extreme of elegant and expensive fashion."  The unnamed individual "soon thereafter became the village pedagogue" and took out an advertisement in the Los Angeles Star for a school he had opened.  Finally, Bell reported that "at the next municipal election, the elegant hangman was honored by our people by being elected City Marshal."

Bell then told a tale about how, about June 1853 when "the southern counties were overrun with Mexican banditti" two contingents of Rangers were formed, the one in Los Angeles that Bell joined, and another in Calaveras County.  On a Sunday evening, he went on, the marshal called for the newly-constituted Rangers to arrest some thieves said to be at a fandango (dance) in town.  When the Rangers arrived, they were disposed to enjoy the festivities instead, while the marshal evidently made an excuse about having to get his revolver before going to the party.

After awhile the Rangers believed they had been deceived by the marshal, Bell claimed, and went to his home where they "found the delinquent chief in the arms of his newly wedded bridge, who, by the by, had another husband, then living, I believe, at El Monte."  After waking him up, the Rangers allegedly told the marshal that there had been a terrible fight, two of their members had been killed, and the official was needed to assist in the preservation of order.

Then, it was stated that "it required at least half an hour for him to make his toilet" before he made his appearance wearing kid gloves and carrying a gold-headed cane.  Bell went on to assert that he was then seized by the Rangers, who carried the marshal to a ditch where "a court-martial was organized, which proceeded to try the marshal on a charge of treason and desertion."  Naturally, the account continued, "he was found guilty, and the military code was read to him from a greasy pack of monte cards."  The penalty was decreed to be "cat-hauling in the public water-ditch."

Bell only referred to Beard as "the man from Arkansas" rather than by name and, indeed, Beard, a native of North Carolina, resided in Pine Bluff, Arkansas in 1850 just after his service in the Mexican-American War.  Within a few years, he relocated to rough-and-ready Gold Rush-era Los Angeles.

The "astonished representative of official pomposity" was tied up with a rope "and the irate Rangers amused themselves until the break of day in dragging the produ dignitary up and down the water ditch, when they left him more dead than alive and retired to their barracks."  Bell wrote that the Rangers were then arrested and a trial was held in the Justice Court, which ended when the merchant, only identified as Tom H------, who supposedly represented the Rangers went on a rampage "capsizing the court, bench and all, whereupon the Rangers went to work, and smashed the tables, broke the chairs, and tore things up generally . . . so ended this remarkable episode."

Finally, Bell claimed, this event "ended the official career of that illustrious character, born of the first great Los Angeles mob."  He went on to assert that "the boys would hoot him on the street, and he was forced to resign."

Not content with stopping there, however, Bell could not resist another story, adding "then I will consign him to the life of vagabondism that he has led down to the present day."  This had to with a welcome party for Ezra Drown, who would be a prominent attorney, common council member, and district attorney in Los Angeles, in May 1853, at which "the pompous marshal" was in attendance ostensibly for "official protection" but allegedly "to get a deluging supply of gratuitous liquid comfort."  When a fight broke out between attorney Lewis Granger and the federal district attorney, who was unnamed, and "the officious head of the infantile city police" jumped in, Granger "downed the Arkansas man, and chawed his nose until it resembled a magnificent pounded and peppered beefsteak."  Bell claimed the marshal had the federal district attorney arrested, but the matter was handled without a trial and the two walked "arm in arm  . . . to the Bella Union, where they smiled at the bar and swore eternal friendship."

As is so often the case with Bell, there are grains of truth, uncorroborated statements, and an array of falsehoods in his characterization of the "man from Arkansas," who was Alviren S. Beard.  There is not a great deal of information available on Beard, who was a native of Davidson County, North Carolina and born about 1820.  He was married in his home county as a young man in the early 1840s and then served in the Mexican-American War.  Within a few years, he was in Pine Bluff, Arkansas, before making his way to Los Angeles.

There is no corroboration that Beard was the hangman in the lynching of the men accused of involvement in Joshua Bean's death.  District Court Judge Benjamin Hayes's voluminous papers at the Bancroft Library at U.C. Berkeley, include material on the lynchings of the accused men, and there are lengthy articles in the Los Angeles Star--none of which mention Beard, which is not to say Bell was wrong.

The same is the case with Bell's "rags to riches" description of Beard before and after the hangings, but it is true that Beard in mid-December 1852 received Los Angeles Common Council approval to operate a school and be paid $35 a month for teaching poor children, the number of which were to be determined by the council.  This is the earliest documented record of Beard being in the town, though it is certainly possible he was there earlier, including when the Bean lynchings took place.

Several months later, he did secure election as Los Angeles city marshal in early May 1853, about a half year after the lynchings.  Perhaps akin to the situation in which Tomás Sánchez, who had a major role in the capture and lynching of suspects in the murder of Sheriff James Barton in January 1857, was elected county sheriff in 1859 and retained that seat for several years, it is possible Beard was "rewarded" for his services in the Bean lynchings be being elected marshal--but there is no proof that this was the case.

Interestingly, however, Beard's sureties to guarantee his behavior in office were former mayor John G. Nichols and Lewis Granger, who Bell claimed pummeled Beard's nose into "beefsteak" around the same time as the election.  Why Granger would, at virtually the same time, beat Beard up and then put up bond money as the new marshal's surety is puzzling, unless Bell expansive storytelling impulses created the Granger pummeling to make Beard look more comical than he was.

But, none of Bell's tales are as outlandish as his claims of the Rangers' "court-martial" of the marshal.  Again, no other sources mention any event remotely similar to this and the Star would certainly have covered it if it had happened.  Moreover, the claim that the entirety of the militia was arrested and tried before the Justice Court--a serious case of assault and battery for the serious injuries Bell claimed were inflicted would have gone before the Sessions Court, anyway--just defies belief.  This is especially true with the part about the trashing of the courtroom.

Despite his many misadventures in Los Angeles, Beard was elected as a Justice of the Peace in San Bernardino and it is listed as his occupation in the 1860 census.

As it was in real life, Beard was already pretty amusing or worse on his own without embellishment.  For example, shortly after taking office as marshal, Beard petitioned the Common Council for a salary and did so again in October and November, but the council replied that the schedule of fees paid to the marshal for various services was considered sufficient.  After the last attempt, the council's minutes for 23 November included the admonition that, if fees were not sufficient compensation for Beard, "he is at liberty to resign."

Other conflicts between the town's governing body and Beard included his issuing business licenses instead of collecting the fees, which was his job as dictated by ordinance and question about fees he was charging for services, such as arrests made of individuals who, as the council recorded in its minutes of 21 June 1853, "had not paid any fine because they succeeded in making good their escape owing to the lack of vigilance on the part of the Marshal."  Consequently, his claims were reduced only to account for those prisoners who did not escape and who paid their fines!  At one point, Beard requested fees for burying a dead Indian, but the council rejected this, noting that such an action was under the auspices of the county, nor the city.

The marshal also had a trio of legal problems within months of his assuming office, involving bigamy, unlawful detainer of an Indian and his role in the homicide of a man he ordered to jail.  These incidents will be discussed later in a more detail post about Beard.

Beard's resignation in early 1854, however, was not due to being shamed by the Rangers. Instead, he failed to forward money to the city treasurer in his role as the town's tax and fines collector.  More on this will be presented in that forthcoming post on Beard, but it turned out that Beard was hundreds of dollars in arrears.  The Los Angeles Common Council pressed him for the assessment book and funds until the matter led to the vacating of his office and the demand of the monies from his sureties, the same Lewis Granger mentiond above and former mayor John G. Nichols.  Eventually Beard ponied up some cash, as did Granger and Nichols, though it looks like a couple hundred bucks never made it to the city's coffers.

As to Bell's claim that Beard was a vagabond for the next few decades, it is true that the former marshal moved around a good deal.  In 1860, he was in San Bernardino serving as Justice of the Peace--an indication that, despite his misadventures in Los Angeles, voters in his new home found him worthy of a judicial position.

Within a decade, though, Beard decamped to Virginia City, in what was then Idaho Territory.  The settlement was new, having been founded as a mining boom town in 1863, but within months crime became rampant, as was often the case in western American mining communities.  The response was a vigilance committee that operated at the end of that year and into the next, which also was when Montana was declared a territory of the U.S. by President Lincoln.  Dozens of men were killed by so-called "road agents," and, in turn, about fifteen or twenty of the latter were executed by what were known as the Montana Vigilantes.  

Whether Beard was in Virginia City, which served as Montana's capital from 1865-75, during this period is not known, but it is ironic that he may have been a vigilante executioner in Los Angeles in 1852 and then happened to live in Virginia City eighteen years later, a few years removed from its own vigilante period.

In any case, by the mid-1870s, he had moved once more, this time to Elko County, Nevada, where he was a rancher.  He appeared in an 1875 state census there and just afterward was quoted in a Los Angeles Herald article about a cannon said to have been used in a notorious fight at an 1852 party in town.  

In 1880, he had roamed back to California, this time taking up residence in San Pasqual, near San Diego, which was the site of the famed 1846 battle when Californios defending their homeland defeated American forces in the main victory for locals in the Mexican-American War in California.  It appears that Beard remained at San Pasqual into the 1890s and may have died during that decade, while in his seventies.  Whether this frequent moving from place to place constituted "vagabondism" or not is arguable.

In Bell's telling, Alveron S. Beard was a dirty, dishelved volunteer vigilante hangman, an effete and cowering marshal, and a discredited vagabond.  Bell's pungent penchant for elaboration, exaggeration and embellishment can obscure those elements of documented history that are present in his work, as well.  Other sources, however, indicate that Beard certainly had some significant character flaws--as he was a bigamist, a marshal with questionable discretion, and an (ab)user of public funds while Los Angeles's marshal. 

As is so often the case, parsing out accounts of first-person history (if Bell can be viewed as a reliable chronicler) can be a challenge and sorting out fact from fancy frustrating!

Horace Bell: Reminiscences of a Ranger, Part Two

As Indiana native Horace Bell settled in to his new home in the Gold Rush-era frontier town of Los Angeles, he took a great interest in the more unsavory aspects of his adopted community.  An early instance of this was his encounter with "Ricardo Urives," actually Ricardo Uribe, who Bell, in his 1881 memoir Reminiscences of a Ranger, stated was "the most perfect specimen of a desperado I ever beheld."

Bell went on to aver that Uribe "could stand more shooting and stabbing than the average bull or grizzly bear" and described an instance in which Uribe single-handledly evaded a phalanx of other desperadoes in the Calle de los Negros, leaving a half-dozen wounded men in his wake as he sported "at least a score of wounds" and was, in addition "so cut and carved that his own mother would have failed to recognize him."

Bell watched from a second-floor balcony of "Captain Bell's residence" [again, not explaining that he was the nephew of said captain] as Uribe left the field of battle to get patched up before riding off to his sister's Rancho de los Coyotes, one of the ranches carved from the massive Nieto grant and located in today's cities of Cerritos, Buena Park, Stanton and La Mirada.

Waxing grandiloquently, Bell went on to say that "Ricardo's courage was that of the lion or the riger, and like those barons of the brute creation, when brought face to face with moral as well as physical courage, the animal bravery of the desperado would quail."

He then went on to relay the tale of how Uribe was off on a bender of some kind "tormenting, berating and abusing every one who came in his way" when"a quiet young gentleman" demanded that Uribe stop his bullying.  As Uribe menacingly brandished a knife, the young man coolly displayed a revolver and calmly told his adversary that he'd shoot him dead if he didn't step away.  Astonishingly, Uribe, the man who took several bullet and knife wounds fighting half a dozen men in Bell's previous tale, merely "turned and slunk away."

At that moment, the county sheriff, James Barton, rode up and congratulated the young man on his bravery, even as the individual in question appeared not to know just who he had confronted.  Bell finally identified the courageous young dude as John G. Downey, who he claimed was "then a stranger," although Downey had been a druggist in town for at least three years and was on the Los Angeles Common [City] Council in 1852, the year of Bell's arrival.

Downey, Bell went on, became governor of California in 1860, being elevated from lieutenant governor when John B. Weller was elected to the U.S. Senate.  He then, according to Bell, was"the best governor, possibly, our state ever had," even though Downey only served two years and returned to Los Angeles.  It might be that Bell's desire to laud Downey led him to magnify the circumstances of the conflict with Uribe, though there is no other source to corroborate Bell's tale.

A portion of Horace Bell's fanciful account of Ricardo Uribe's battle with the "Jim Irvin" gang from Bell's 1881 memoir Reminiscences of a Ranger.  Unfortunately, most of Bell's account is not particularly accurate, though the story is great fun to read.

There was one other Uribe story--this having to do with the 1851 arrival from the northern gold fields of a gang of bandits to the Los Angeles area.  Bell's version has it that "Jim Irvin" and his men "found some friends in jail" and that "Irvin" decided "to take the prisoners out of the hands of the sheriff, and take them along with him" to Mexico, his destination.

After a company of U.S. troops showed up in town and thwarted "Irvin" and his gang, Bell said the desperadoes headed to the Los Coyotes ranch "and made a hostage of Ricardo, who was the majordomo or foreman of his sister's rancho, in exchange for a supply of good horses on which to make their escape to Mexico.

Then, Bell stated that "Irvin" and his men headed north and east to the San Gorgonio Pass and towards the Colorado River, which was hardly the quickest way to Mexico--that would have been the coastal route through San Diego.  In any case, Uribe decided to, singly, follow the party "whom he had doomed to destruction" and crossed the Chino Hills, possibly through today's Carbon Canyon leading from Brea to Chino Hills, as a shortcut.

Suddenly, the reader learns that Uribe "with a chosen band of Cahuilla Indians" native to the area east of modern San Bernardino, confronted the bandits, "who rode quietly into the ambush and were slaughtered to a man.  According to Bell, the Indians reported later that while they "fought from their place of concealment," Uribe charged the gang "face to face, [and] let them know that he was the avenger of his own wrongs" back at Los Coyotes.

Bell claimed that he was told the circumstances of this heroic standoff by Uribe during "the gorgeous honor of eating beef stewed in red pepper, beans and tortillas, at Ricardo's table"  Moreover, the account concluded, Uribe was "neither robber nor gambler, but a good-hearted, honest fellow, who just fought for the very love of fighting, for fighting was the order of the day."

The problem with Bell's version of the "Irvin" tale is that it is basically not true.  Bell was not in Los Angeles in early 1851 when the events took place and existing sources, mainly the lengthy narrative written by attorney Joseph Lancaster Brent, tell a very different story.

The larger incident, known as the Lugo Case, will be covered here subsequently, but suffice it to say for now that James "Red" Irving, a former soldier with the American invasion of Mexican California, had, indeed, rode with his gang of thieves into the Los Angeles area on his way to Mexico.  Irving learned, however, that two members of the prominent Lugo family had been arrested on the charge of murder after an incident near Cajon Pass.  Ironically, Bell later discussed the matter elsewhere in Reminiscences as if it was completely separate from Irving's involvement.

Seeing an opportunity for extorting some cash from the Lugos, Irving visited the family's Rancho San Bernardino at the base of the pass and offered to break the brothers from jail, Menito and Chico, from jail, but was refused by the family.  Enraged by this lack of gratitude from the Lugos, Irving decided to storm the jail and take the brothers as revenge.  It is true that, as a court case was in process and Irving and his men waited for their opportunity, a military force happened to show up in Los Angeles, preventing the bandit chief from carrying out his designs.

However, Irving headed straight for Rancho San Bernardino, not to Los Coyotes, to exact his frustrations on the Lugos and Brent stated in his account that he sent a warning.  There is no indication that Uribe had anything to do with what followed as he is not mentioned by Brent or other sources.  The battle between the Cahuillas, led by their chief Juan Antonio, and the Irving gang in San Timoteo Canyon near modern Redlands, did take place and the bandits were annihilated, excepting one survivor.  But, it is almost certain that Ricardo Uribe was not there--still Bell's tale is certainly entertaining.

To conclude, Bell's assertion that Uribe was a good fellow, despite his violent tendencies, is a common theme in the major's two books. He would make the same statement about Dave Brown, who will be discussed here later, as well, and a few other characters, actual or fictional.

Uribe, in fact, did have a few run-ins with the law.  On 14 June 1850, just as the American legal system in Los Angeles was getting underway, the very first criminal court case held at the Court of Sessions (later the County Court) was that of People v. Ricardo Uribe three charges of assault and battery against three men: Pedro Romero, Jose Antonio Cuaja and Juan Lopez.  The case files don't contain any details about the incident, but Uribe was found guilty on the first two counts, while he was acquitted on the last.

On 11 February 1851, Uribe was again before the Sessions court, on a charge of assault on a public officer, with the defendant accused of having attacked Deputy Sheriff William B. Osburn.  While Uribe was "held to answer" after a preliminary hearing, there is no known disposition of the case.

So, these tales of the fierce and brave Ricardo Uribe and, especially, Bell's claims of his involvement in the imperfect rendering of the Lugo Case are good examples of where a reader of Reminiscences of a Ranger and On the Old West Coast should be mindful of how the author can be enormously entertaining, if somewhat loose with facts.