The Barton Massacre of 1857, Part Eight: The Trial and Execution of Luciano Tapia/Leonardo López

With the lynching of Juan Flores on 7 February 1857, the aftermath of the killings of Los Angeles County Sheriff James R. Barton and three members of his posse hunting the bandit gang led by Flores and Pancho Daniel reached its peak in terms of its activity, vengefulness and excess.

Most of the known bandits had been killed by posses of citizens in the Santa Ana Mountains near the Barton murders, at Ventura, and in Los Angeles.  Two main figures, however, remained at large, though both were captured in the San José region.

One of these was tried as Luciano Tapia, though he was commonly identified, including by one of the other members, Jesús Espinosa, as Leonardo López.  Tapia's trial for his role in the killing of San Juan Capistrano merchant George Pflugardt, whose murder led Barton and his posse to head out to find the killers, was held in mid-December 1857 and he was represented by public defender Kimball H. Dimmick, who was a veteran of the Mexican-American War, a signer of California's 1849 constitution, a member of the state legislature and former Los Angeles County district attorney.

The indictment against Tapia was presented by the Grand Jury on 14 December, and a venire (call) for jurors issued the following day.  The trial jurors secured (there being one Latino, Jesús López, among the 12 men seated), the case proceeded on the 16th with Dimmick filing a motion to continue the case to the next term of the court because he needed to procure the testimony of Rafael Martinez of San Luis Obispo, which was going to state that, in January, the month of the Barton massacre, Tapia was working for Martinez.  District Attorney Ezra Drown submitted an affidavit that this attempt to delay the trial was unfounded, because of the evidence ready to be presented at trial.

An interesting document from the case file (case 337 in the District Court records, now at the Huntington Library, where this material was researched some fifteen years ago) was submitted by District Court Judge Benjamin Hayes, who was presiding over the trial.  Hayes stated that "the motion for continuance in this case does not shew [show] that there is no other witness by whom the defendant can prove the same facts which, it is alleged, Rafael Martinez will testify to.  This omission I consider fatal in his affidavit."

Not only this, Hayes continued, but "nor does the affidavit state any definite and certain period within which he lived and worked in San Luis Obispo, but merely that he lived and worked there" in January and February.  Hayes went on to observe that "defendant may well have committed the crime with which he is charged, and have worked in San Luis Obispo, both in the month of January" and then overruled Dimmick's motion.

A summary of the trial of Luciano Tapia (a.k.a., Leonardo Lopez), Los Angeles Star, 19 December 1857.

A third affidavit was signed by six Latino men stating that they knew Tapia was in San Juan Capistrano in January 1857 and at the time of the crime.  The testimony of some of these men was taken on the day of the trial, starting on behest of the prosecution with Fernando Pérez, Pflugardt's partner, who stated, as recorded in the shorthand style of minute-taking:"Knew Geo Pflugard [sic] . . . saw him after he was dead . . . after he was dead I picked him up, he had three Ball wounds."

Pérez continued that he had been overtaken by some of the gang while riding towards San Juan Capistrano near the Coyotes rancho in what is today northwestern Orange County two days prior to the murder.  On the day of the killing, he went on, "those men arrive at dusk, those who robbed the house, knew them by sight and after the robbery learned their names, Juan Flores, Juan Catabo, Chino Barelas, one joined them afterwards, Francisco el Ardillero . . . saw at the time of their arrival the decd [deceased] at the door, the dcsd then ran into another room of the same house, then I saw them shoot three consecutive shots at him . . . I came to the door, and they pointed at me again and w/pistol, I made one step forward, and told them I surrendered and not to shoot."

Noting that the captain was Juan Flores, Pérez stated that Flores "asked me, if all that [merchandise] belonged to Pflugart . . . I told them that all that was there belonged to dcsd, then they commenced taking all that was there, and after they had taken all, went away. . . prisoner was one of the men robbing the store."

On questioning from the defense, Pérez replied that he and Pflugardt loaded guns "because they [the gang] had gone into the store of Don Miguel [Garcia] the night before."  He also noted that "prisoner was called Manila [Manilla], among them, it was a disguise used by them to avoid being discovered, I never knew prisoner as Luciano Tapia."

With the prosecution back for more questioning, Pérez added the detail that "after the shots were fired, it was an hour afterwards that I saw dcsd, he was in the back yard.  After they went away I went to look for Pflugart, and found him apparently as he had fallen in attempting to get away."

The next witness was Teodocio Yorba, who testified for the prosecution that "I have seen Prisoner at my house, at the time they had him Prisoner at my rancho, they said at the time that Juan Flores, Leonardo Lopez and Espinoza were there also."  Replying to a defense question, Yorba observed that "some Americans from the Monte had them in charge" also noting that a witness present at the trial, Pedro Rivera, and one of the jury, Alexander Nelson, was one of those in that group.

Yorba denied ever having seen Tapia before that time or since, because "they tied them [Tapia, Flores and Espinosa] prisoner when at my rancho and they escaped."

Next up was Felipe Jimenez, a servant of Pflugardt, who stated that he saw the body after death and that there were three bullet wounds.  He also recalled Tapia being near the tavern and store the day of the killing and then again the next day, wearing clothes "such as dcsd had in his store for sale."  Jimenez confirmed Pérez's testimony about meeting the bandits on the road towards San Juan before the killing, noting "there were nine on horseback, one riding double on the road, saw five in San Juan before the killing."

Notably, Jimenez testified after a defense query that "the night of the killing don't know what Prisoner was doing, he was on foot outside the house" and, when questioned by Judge Hayes on this, answered, "when Prisoner was 10 yds outside the house, the rest were robbing inside."

José Buelna testified next and, on questioning by the prosecution, stated that "[I] know Prisoner, a littel over year, going up the bank of the River of Los Angeles near my house, Santos was with him, who was killed at San Gabriel [again, this might be Miguel Soto, whose brutal slaying by Americans has been covered here]."  Buelna went on to say, "knew him again when they assaulted me . . . this was about 15 or 16 Jany 1857," several days before the Pflugardt murder and something not apparently known before the trial.  He went on to say that "after they assaulted me, they took the road for San Gabriel."

During cross-examination by the defense, Buelna added that "it was in the morning abuot 8 o'clock that I saw Prisoner, they staid [sic] about one hour, those who entered my house at night were not marked."

Henry Charles, another San Juan merchant, was sworn in and questioned by Drown.  He, however, said "Can't swear to identity of Prisoner, they were all in my store the day previous to killing, am near sighted, can't say positively as to Prisoner."  However, Charles did state that "after they had done it [killed Pflugardt], they came in front of Forster's house and said they could all the San Juan."  Charles also noted that "they robbed me and Miguel after robbing Pflugardt."

Manuel Avila of a long-time San Juan family said little in his testimony other than that, "[I] know Prisoner, saw him the first time in San Juan, month January, after death of Pflugart" and then three days later with Flores and others.  Avila concluded by noting that "Priosner was called at that time Leonardo Lopez."

Having been identified by Yorba as being in the American posse that captured and then lost Flores, Tapia and Espinosa, Alexander Nelson was called by the prosecution and testified that "[I] know nothing about the San Juan affair, saw Prisoner in a Cañada above Santa Ana, we were after the party."  Noting that Andrés Pico had originally discovered the three and then they were seized by the Americans, Nelson continued that "we took them and took thjem to Teodocio Yorba's, tied them, and they escaped."

Similarly, Pedro Rivera was called for his identification of Tapia at Yorba's ranch house.  He repeated Nelson's account, adding "we took them in the Plain, we galloped upon them and they jumped into a ravine and we took them."  On defense cross-examination, Rivera added, "Prisoner was the first who came out, and asked for a cigar and water, had no conversation with them more than related."  He stated that the place of capture was "about 2 leagues" or about 7 miles from Yorba's place.

With Rivera's testimony completed, the prosecution rested.  All the defense did was call Los Angeles marshal William Getman, then the Sheriff-elect [he would be killed just weeks into his term, on 7 January 1858, by a mentally-ill man].  Getman was sent to San Jose to bring the defendant back for trial and noted that "in San Jose Prisoner went by any name.  I called him Lopez, and he answered, but denied the name."  With this the defense rested.

The jury then retired and returned with a verdict, with foreman J.R. Evertsen of San Gabriel, reading to the court that Tapia was found guilty.  The following day, evidently set for sentencing, Dimmick failed to appear, leading Judge Hayes to send a summons requiring him to appear before the bench and demonstrate why he should not be held in contempt for his no-show.  On the 19th, then, Hayes formally sentenced Tapia to death, setting the date for 16 February 1858, at which time he would be hung with Thomas King, who was convicted of murder about two weeks before Tapia.

Tapia's remarks to the court at his sentencing, Los Angeles Star, 26 December 1857.

What was not in the case file, but what was reported in the 26 December issue of the Los Angeles Star during the sentencing was that Tapia was asked if he had anything to say prior to the pronouncement.  The paper reported that the prisoner had something of a lawyer in him, as he

replied that although a number of witnesses had been examined nothing was proved against him . . . they might hang him if they pelased, but the examination was illegal.  The witnesses had visited him, and then returned and gave their testimony.  That was not right.  They should have given their evidence and their description of him before seeing him . . . Mexicans have frequently been hung on the testimony of men who had never seen them before.  Men come and look at one in prison, and then go and swaer against him.  This has often occurred.  There is no testimony against me—no one has proved that I committed the murder, only that I was in the town at the time.  You may sentence if [you] please, but the testimony is not sufficient.

Hayes replied that Tapia received a full and fair trial, with appointed counsel and 12 men in the jury who rendered a verdict, to which Hayes added, he fully concurred (it should be noted that King also denied that he committed murder, but rather killed in self-defense).  As reported by the Star

Judge Hayes then addressed the prisoner, reminding him of the short time before him, and hoped that he would spend it as to secure repentance for the errors of his past life, and by the efficacy of his religion secure everlasting happiness.

After sentencing Tapia to death, the paper noted that "the prisoner was then removed.  He seemed very weak and was assisted in walking by two officers.  He is a tall man, and in full vigor must have been a formidable foe, and indeed his acts prove him to have been."  It was not explained how Tapia became so weak while in custody, but it can be imagined that the county jail was hardly conductive to maintaining health.

A portion of the coverage of the execution of Tapia and Thomas King, El Clamor Público, 20 February 1858.  Thanks for Paul Bryan Gray for providing microfilm of this paper.

On the day of the execution, the 20 February 1858 edition of El Clamor Público observed that Tapia was 22 years old "tall and well formed.  It seems he had received a good education.  Tapia possessed an iron constitution and carried well with little visible of the dangers and terrible difficulties he encountered."  Noting that Tapia denied a role in the Pflugardt murder when brought down from San Jose, the paper continued to discuss his and King's last moments.  They bathed, spent time with ministers, drank a little wine and then looked out the window of the jail at the gallows.  Here, "Tapia often remained motionles, looking with attention at the multitude attracted by morbid curiosity.  His attention was directed to the presence of soldiers, and he said these were the first he had seen in the country."  Tapia was then reported to have remarked to jailer Eli Smith, "who quick he [King] and I could run from here if we had a pair of rifles."

As they headed to the gallows, Tapia "mounted the stairs, apparently with a certain air of happiness."  After a moment seated on the platform, "after smoking a cigar, Tapia rose, and said some words to the effect that he forgave and hoped they would forfive him."  Then, Tapia said "I advise my compatriouts to leave this country, as this was no place to live as a man."  He then offered advise to the parents and mothers of this countrymen "to direct their children by the path of virtue and that they should take example by his death.  That he had been strayed by the evil counsels of bad men and that they should prevent the imitation" by their own children.  Finally, Tapia stated that "he also decalred that Incarnacion Garcia had sold him out in San Jose for the sum of a hundred dollars."

El Clamor reported that the jailyard was crowded with residents and the aforementioned soldiers, with citizen companies, including the Southern Rifles, the French company and the California Lancers present, including a new piece of artillery on display.

New sheriff James Thompson read the order of execution and his deputies William H. Peterson and Frank Baker tied the arms of the two men before placing the nooses over the necks and covering their faces.  At ten minutes to three in the afternoon, the paper continued, "the sign was given and their souls were launched into eternity."  The deed was done efficiently, "so that their deaths were instantaneous, and although for some moments convulsive movements were observed, they must have died the instant they fell."  After twenty minutes, the two bodies were cut down and placed into coffins ready and at hand.  While King's remains were taken to the county cemetery on Fort Moore Hill, "that of Tapia was delivered to friends who took charge of giving him burial."

Notably, the paper offered details of Tapia's origins, namely that he was from Mezquital del Oro in the Mexican state of Jalisco (though that town is in the far soutwestern corner of Zacatecas now) and that his parents lived in Amatitan, closer to Guadalajara.  El Clamor observed that Tapia worked in San Luis Obispo "when Flores passed through and he convinced to set out with him for Los Angeles.  Before this he was very industrious and honest.  When in jail, he frequently spoke of his mother and country."

Part of the reporting on the Tapia/King executions, Star, 20 February 1858.

The account of the execution by the Star was briefer and more was reported on King's last remarks than those of Tapia, whose advice to "Sonoranians," as the paper expressed it, was to "take warning by his fate—and to leave this country, as it was no place for them, adding that he was called on to suffer for crimes perpetrated by others."  Both men were described as "calm and collected," while also engaged "fervently in the sacred services" led by ministers.  The paper did, though, include a summary of remarks by Father Blas Raho of the Plaza Church and his exhorations in Spanish and English for "all to take warning by the awful example now before them."

This left one more "awful example" in the matter of the justice exacted on those involved in the Barton massacre--this being the subject of the next post.

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.

The Barton Massacre of 1857, Part Six: The Lynching of Juan Flores

On 14 February 1857, the same day that the two weekly newspapers of Los Angeles, the English-language Star and the Spanish-language El Clamor Público were issued, the fate of Juan Flores, determined to be one of the two leaders of the gang of men which killed Sheriff James R. Barton and three members of his posse hunting for the bandits just under a month before, was decided.

As noted here previously, Flores and two of his compatriots, Jesús Espinosa and Leonardo López (a.k.a. Tiburcio Tapia) were able to escape capture by a posse in the Santa Ana Mountains of today's eastern Orange County, through spectacular maneuvers down steep slopes in the range.  They then split up, with Espinosa captured at Ventura and lynched there, after making his confession (also described in this blog), while Lopez vanished.  The other bandit leader, Pancho Daniel, who was wounded in the Barton massacre, also made his escape.

Flores, however, was detained on 3 February while trying to slip through Simi Pass, after five days of rapid riding in what appears to have been a route along the San Gabriel Mountain foothills and through the upper San Fernando Valley.  He remained confined in jail from the 5th, along with at least some of the more than fifty others who were arrested during the house-to-house search of a portion of Los Angeles, for a liitle over a week.

But, on the 14th, as reported in the following week's edition from the 21st of the Star, "the people of this city, and a large number from the principal towns of the county, assembled together for the purpose of what should be done with Flores, and the other prisoners in jail."  The paper did not provide any detail of the meeting other than to say that, "after a good deal of talking, a vote was taken, and it was resolved, without a dissenting voice, that Flores should be executed forthwith."

The other prisoners were left to the authorities, evidently because they had been confined "only [for] attempts at murder, burglaries, and horsestealing."  Curiously, the Star went on to state that "we had intended to make some remarks how this decision was secured—to notice the inference justly deducible therefore—but we have had so much of this of late, that we have no disposition to return to the subject."

El Clamor Público, however, did report that each of the other inmates were questioned at length, particularly about whether "they had committed an offense for which they were punished."  Jonathan R. Scott, an attorney and former justice of the peace, who was presiding over the gathering called for their remanding to the processes of the law.

While there were some who spoke about the alleged guilt of at least some of the confined men, a vote was taken of over 650 present.  It was stated that nearly 400 of them voted for leaving the prisoners to the operations of the criminal justice system and one source stated that the majority of these were not Americans.  That is, of the 250-plus who signaled a desire for more extralegal hanging, the plurality were Americans.  El Clamor did state, though, that "the larger majority of thoughful persons rejected using violence."

Article on the lynching of Juan Flores, Los Angeles Star, 21 February 1857.

With the quick determination out of the way, "the people marched to the jail, and took possesion of Flores."  The bandit leader "had been expecting this visit" and he was taken out to the gallows "by Capt. Twist's company" and followed by the French and Californio militias, along with a large group of residents.

As the procession made it way to the hill where so many lynchings took place, the Star reported that Flores "walked with firmness, and seemed as composed as anyone in the crowd."  Interestingly, the paper made note of his "pleasing countenance" and observed that "there was nothing in his appearance to indicate the formidable bandit which he had proved himself to be."  His days on the run, his haggard state when captured, and the nine days in jail probably had a good deal to do with that.

Also of note was that, once everyone arrived at the gallows, Flores was accompanied by the two priests from the Plaza Church and "the armed men forming a hollow square, supported by the cavalry in the rear."  With his arms bound securely, Flores "firmly ascended the drop" and "he expresed a wish to address the people."  These were interpreted for English speakers and he stated "that he had committed many crimes—that he died without having ill-will against any man" and wished the same in return."  After noting twice that he was prepared or death, Flores left instructions to some in the crowd regarding the disposition of his remains.

He handed over a white kerchief to have his face covereed, after which his legs were restrained and the rope, reportedly a reata taken from one of those killed in the Barton massacre,  placed and adjusted around his neck, during which Flores calmly remained in conversation with those nearby.  As soon as others left the scaffold "immediately after the plank was drawn from under him, and the body of Flores swung in the air."

As soon as Flores was dropped, however, it quickly became obvious that the distance of the drop was "too short, and the unfortunate wretch struggled in agony for a considerable time."  This means that there was not enough distance for Flores to fall from the gallows so that the his weight would cause massive asphyxiation or the breaking of his neck.  Consequently, "in his last, despairing efforts, the rope around his arms slipped above his elbows and he grasped the rop by which he was suspended."

Amidst this chaos, officials had to rush over to do something and "it required considerable effort to release his hold."  Even still, Flores continued flailing in what one observer described as aking to being "hung very much like a dog."  The Star observed that "after a protracted struggle, very painful to behold, the limbs became quiet, and finally stiff in death.  Thus ended the brief but stormy life of the bandit captain, Juan Flores."  The body was left hanging for another hour before it was cut down.  There seems little question that Flores' lynching was undertaken without the slightest concern for what can only be termed, if clincially, as "efficiency."  The use of the reata and the insufficient length of the drop were, beyond the method itself, perhaps willfully.  As much of a criminal as Flores was, shooting by firing squad would have been more humane.

In the jail, the paper continued, the two men who were subjected to a vote of the mob about their fate had, it was reported, still prepared themselves for death "whether from a consciousness of guilt, or a dread of popular fury, we leave to the inference of the reader," opined the Star.  One of them got dressed as if ready for a lynching, while the other had his clothing organized and ready.  But, the paper continued, "the people, more benignant than the malefactors had dared to hope, spared their lives, and they still remain in prison."  El Clamor Público reported that there were still eleven men in jail (some forty, it appears, having been released in preceding days) awaiting their appearance in court.

Notably, El Clamor reported that there was an attempt the evening after Flores's lynching by some citizens to persuade the jailer, Francis Carpenter, to allow them access to the remaining prisoners, presumably so they could exact more executions—"such is the nature of personal revenge," as it was put.  But, the paper went on, Carpenter stood fast and refused to entertain any requests by these individuals.  For this, he was lauded, as it was stated "we allude to this circumstance because we cannot lose any opportunity to commemorate facts of fidelity and humanity among those in public positions."  Moreover, said El Clamor, "by pure compasion, we do not mention the names of those who withdrew, ashamed, in view of the firmness of this noble jailer."

While the Star once more demonstrated support for "the people" and the use of popular justice in lynching Flores, the horrific nature of the botched methods used in the hanging did seem to have an effect, though this was somewhat muted.  On the other hand, El Clamor, previously supportive of using extralegal means to deal with the Flores-Daniel gang, made a very concerted and direct about-face in its views.

"Americans!  Californios!" El Clamor Público, 21 February 1857.

Typically, Francisco P. Ramirez used his elegant prose and idealistic sentiments to not only criticize the concept of lynching, but to discuss the larger issue of community.  For example, in an editorial titled "Americans !  Californians!" he asked, "Do we not all belong to the same republic?  Do we not all have the same equal rights and protection of the laws?"  He went on to inquire, "if the past has caused innumerable wrongs amongst us, when would be a better time than now to have a perfect agreement of faith?" when it came to the observance of law.  He asked "which is the real nature of the illness that our society and politics suffers?  Is it an incurable cancer, or a tumor that can be cured with the aid of science?" meaning, presumably, the science of government and law.

Calling for "an honest and candid discussion" among the Picos, Olveras, Dominguezes and other prominent Californios, Ramirez looked for "measures that find ways to promote the common welfare" and which would "unite the two or more races (in a manner of speaking) that form the body of our population."  He went on to sugges that, "if the Californios have not complied with their duty . . . we expect that their lacks be declared clearly, so that they are remedied, and all the fears, and threats (if such exist) can disappear and be forgotten."  Again calling for the respecting of the laws and their "firm administratoin characterized by equality and purity," Ramirez concluded by noting that "thus alone, in our humble opinion, can we advance with the prosperity of a free town."

"Thoughts on the Past," El Clamor Público, 21 February 1857.

In a separate editorial, "Thoughts on Past Events," Ramirez wrote that, "the majority of the town generally avoids committing gross excesses" and that "a notable test of this truth was presented last Saturday," presumably referring to the mass meeting vote about the fate of the eleven men jailed with Flores.  He went on, though, to write, "nevertheless, we have been sufficiently correct to distrust the few when . . . [using] the internal fire of their own exaltation while they have the opportunity to gratify their passions without limit."  These individuals "can ignore the motives and counsels of the majority of the town, and very falsely interpret the feeling and general will."

For those disposed to act extralegally, Ramirez continued, "if they are not counteracted by fear of public execration or some other worse result, they could use their efforts to carry out so much of their malice until they employ 'fire and sword.'"  It was, however, "in times of revolution or some public calamity or the great exaltation of spirit, that the worst men are the first to come out from the shadows" and fall prey to anger and revenge.  Ramirez referred to the unnamed men found murdered near Los Nietos and then made allusion to "respectable people who took the initiative," citing Andres Pico's lynching of Ardillero and Silvas and "also the brave but discreet gentlemen sent to Ventura," that is Coopwood and his small posse, where Espinosa and Berryesa were hung.

In these references, Ramirez seemed to be equally criticizing Pico and Coopwood, who were more or less public in their vigilante activity, with the unknown parties at Los Nietos.  He also made allusion to the decisions of a few regarding the lives of alleged or real criminals, noting "we desire that the voice and the vote of all the town be heard before a man is condemned to suffer the final penalty."  He also rhetorically inquired, "Who will be able to reckon the value of the life of a human being?"

More provocatively, Ramirez continued: "Think on this, fellow citizens.  If an American were taken in hung in San Jose or Santa Ana, or in San Juan, where the population is composed entirely of Californios; would this not be the cause of a general uprising?" Once again, he went back to assert that "we are obliged to ask for an explanation of the deaths at Los Nietos."

Looking back to earlier events, Ramirez noted that "when the voice of the majority of the town is heard patiently, it seems that there is something similar to the administration of justice," though he did note that these instances sometimes smacked of stating that "the voice of the town is the voice of God!"  The matter of the late 1852 lynching of Doroteo Zavaleta and Jesús Rivas, that of David Brown in early 1855, and the 1851 (Ramirez stated 1850) slaughter of the Irving Gang by Cahuilla Indians were brought up in this connection.  In this latter, Ramirez observed that "a respectable Coroner's jury pronounced the facts as justified," even the slaughter of white bandits by Indians.  He also claimed "in these events the great majority of the town gave its decision of approval" and "thus has it been with the execution of the bandits of San Juan Capistrano."

However, he went on, "will it no longer be that order will be established and that there be the peaceful administration of laws in this county?" and he once again called for support for the law and the peace officers of the county.

"Thoughts on the Future," El Clamor Público, 21 February 1857.

Not to be content with this, Ramirez issued a third editorial on that day, called "Thoughts on the Future."  He started by stating that, "the past should be recalled as a guide to the future" and that "we need to mae an effort to remove some of the wrongs that we have witnessed."  Claiming that "the Californios are the ones that have suffered most by the thieves," Ramirez mused on the fact that, for the most part, the reaction to the murders of Barton and his posse were "harmonious," but he also pointed out "the excesses that are too apparent."  Employing a metaphor of a fire lit in the heart of the town that could mean that "the useful tree is consumed along with the ivy," Ramirez noted that, while "without a doubt a salutary terror has been felt by the criminals," there was a concern that "we do not expect in vain that all the seeds of crime have perished."

Another metaphor followed.  Sowing the region "with the fruitful grain of universal education, and to water it with the perennial sources of religion" would mean that "all the harmful plants would disappear forever."  Still, he went on, "nevertheless we know very well, by the experience of the whole world, that the lowest passions often destroy those that are the most powerful barriers opposed to violence."  With this in mind, Ramirez continued, "for this reason we cannot be so simple and candid to suppopse that the community has been regenerated, only because we have seen the spectale of military executions, in times of peace, and in a country that should be governed by laws and civil judges."

Noting that, "there still remains a lot to do," Ramirez entreated his fellow Spanish-speakers: "Californios, we entreat you to pledge more for the education of your beloved children in their tender age, and with the lessons of divine and human wisdom."  Should this not be the case, the situation would only be "dark and sadder in proportion that we abandon and ignore this."  Looking at the ages of Flores, Juan Catabo, and Espinosa, Ramirez stated "it is painful that the great majority of the criminals in our courts are comparatively young" and that many are not even twenty before "the flowers of virtue have dried in the heart."

Ramirez pointed to a recent example oin which three teenagers barely sixteen years old were involved "in cards, in wine, in libertinage, and are hardnening to the last degree of shame!"  He cited the examples of Zavaleta, Rivas, Felipe Alvitre (hung legally before Brown was lynched), Ygnacio Herrera, the sole legal execution in the county when he was hung in 1854, and Flores and noted that their ill-gotten gains "were lost on playing tables a moment after the robberies took place" and set an example for some of the youth in the community:  "We will say it with frankess: you youths are too much inclined to blindly imitate the bad dealings of others . . . be careful of those despicabvle vices.  Surely they will carry you to your ruin.  You are surrounded by greater dangers and have more temptations, right now, then your parents when they were young.

Notably, Ramirez pointed to recently Gold Rush wealth, observing that "it should be feared that the wealth some have obained, since many of you have been born, has left you a custom of idleness" and then asked "California was happier when all were poor—is that not so?"  He counseled younger people to "ask the old settlers.  Wealth is the mother of pride, extravagance and the aversion of work; the final abandonment and loss of fine customs.  Idleness is the origin of crime in the town."

For Ramirez, "a kind Providence has given us a rich land, a delicious climate, and all the resources to achieve an honest life.  All should be employed in what is useful for them and their family."  It was far better to "sow corn, what, and et cetera—do anything that will have you useful and busy, instead of passing the time in those detestable bars and gambling houses."  In this idealistic and lyrical vein, he continued that "wealth is not the greatest happiness to which we can aspire.  Often it is a curse and a misfortune.  A good character in humble poverty is worth more than the gold of California had with a bad reputation."

Concluding, Ramirez said "if we direct these words to you it is not because they would not be able to applied to others.  Crime is found everywhere, and is produced by the same causes.  We should not forget that, in every age and nation, religious is the soul of virtue, education conducts us to wisdom, and industry carries itself with honor."  Those three elements "remain as the solid base of private and public happiness."

Barton Massacre Program in Orange This Thursday

"Revolutionaries or Ruffians: The Massacre of Sheriff James Barton and Posse, 1857," a presentation and group discussion about the infamous murders and the often excessive manhunt for the killers that followed, is being offered by the Orange County Historical Society this Thursday the 11th at 7 p.m.  The event is being held at Trinity Episcopal Church, 2400 N. Canal Street in Orange, just west of the 55 Freeway near Lincoln Avenue.

The PowerPoint-illustrated talk discusses Los Angeles during the 1850s, its Gold Rush years, the mix of people living in the area, the lack of government resources and support for law enforcement and the courts, staggering rates of crime and violence, and other related topics.  Then, the specifics of the killings of the sheriff and three members of his posse and the weeks-long manhunt to track down the murderers, including gross excesses committed upon some who were not directly linked to the slayings.

After that, members of the audience, using some printed examples of newspaper articles, autobiographies and other items from the time, will discuss the crime, the manhunt, what the issues were in terms of race and ethnicity, policing, crime, criminal justice, and others.  This discussion will seek connections to events and topics today, as well.

This program should be an exciting and stimulating one, so click here for more information.

"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.

Eternity Street Lecture on Frontier Los Angeles Violence and Justice

This afternoon at the Homestead Museum in the City of Industry, Yale professor emeritus John Mack Faragher gave a stimulating presentation based on his new book Eternity Street: Violence and Justice in Frontier Los Angeles, published by W.W. Norton and Company.

With accompaniment from PowerPoint slides, Faragher began by noting that, whereas in Europe over the centuries homicide has dropped precipitously, there was a major spike in American homicide in more recent generations, though a noticeable decline has taken place since 1990.  He then moved to the local scene, stating that, after considerable research, he was able to document 468 homicides in Los Angeles between 1850 and 1875.

Courtesy of W. W. Norton and Company.

While this is a far cry from the claims of Horace Bell and Harris Newmark that there was a murder a day at a certain point in the early 1850s, Faragher reminded the audience that, per 100,000 residents, it was still extraordinary to have an average of, say, 20 homicides a year in a frontier town as small as Los Angeles.  This rate dwarfed most homicide rates in major areas of the United States and within California at the time and today.

Faragher then talked about something that has not received nearly as much attention (and that goes for this blogger's work, as well) when it comes to examining violence in society generally, much less that of Los Angeles during the 1850s through 1870s.

Much has been said about the preponderance of young men, free from tethers of home, imbued with copious amounts of alcohol, supplied with advance weapons of destruction (like the new Colt revolver, introduced in the late 1840s), surrounded with people of many other ethnicites and races, and unrestrained by a dysfunctional and poorly-supported government and criminal justice system.

However, what Faragher did in his book and explained in his talk was that the little-known effects of domestic violence have a connection to individual and larger-scale violence.  He reviewed some of the many cases in Los Angeles's civil court records that document spousal abuse from the Mexican era through the early American years.  While in some cases, judges granted divorce and other petitions from women abused by their husbands, a good many did not.

In one notable incident cited by Faragher, Phillip Rheim, a German known as Felipe Reim by Angelenos and who owned the Los Dos Amigos saloon, was particularly abusive to his wife, who finally secured a divorce by default when Rheim failed to appear in court.  Rheim then committed suicide by taking an overdose of laudanum, an opiod, with the suggestion being that the divorce pushed him over the edge.

Faragher proceeded to cover some of the more notorious incidents of vigilante activity in Los Angeles, from the first lynching to take place in the town in 1836 when Maria Rosario Villa de Feliz and her lover Gervasio Alipas killed her husband and then were hung by a committee of citizens, up through the horrific Chinese Massacre of 1871.  Faragher talked about a number of incidents, detailing the operations of vigilantes, and the responses by those in support of and opposed to mob law.

The one-hour talk held the rapt attention of about fifty audience members.

The presentation concluded after about an hour and there were plenty of questions from an audience that clearly was impressed by what they heard.  A reception was held on a warm winter afternoon and copies of Eternity Street were sold and signed.  This blogger picked up a copy and is raring to get reading tonight.  More on the book will be posted on this blog soon.

For those who did not get to see this talk at either the Huntington Library on Friday or the Homestead today, Faragher is giving his talk tomorrow at the Autry Museum at 11 a.m., so there'll still be time, for those interested, in watching the Super Bowl later.  He'll also be interviewed on Larry Mantle's Air Talk on KPCC 89.3 on Monday around 12:30 or so--check listings for that.  Finally, he'll be doing a talk and book signing at Vroman's Bookstore in Pasadena on Tuesday at 7 p.m.

The Barton Massacre of 1857, Part Five

With the killing of five men at San Gabriel raising new controversies over the degree of "popular justice" administered by citizens in the days following the killing of Sheriff James R. Barton and three members of his posse hunting the Flores-Daniel Gang, the situation accelerated further in the first days of February.

On 2 February, a group of five men led by Ezekiel H. Rubottom of El Monte (which in just several years of existence became known for its "Monte Boys," residents quick to resort to rought justice) rode out from Los Angeles on what the Los Angeles Star referred to, in its edition of 14 February, as "an expedition to Santa Barbara."  A couple of the men were left at the mission in Ventura, while the other three rode on to Santa Barbara.  According to the paper, "information was given to the people at the Mission that certain of the gang of robbers would arrive that night in town" and a lookout was stationed, while a scout went out to search the area.

Los Angeles Star, 14 February 1857.

The Star then reported that, "shortly after, two men approached, diring on a horse, and on meeting the spy, asked him if there was any excitment in town, to which he answered there was not and they continued on their course."  As the duo moved on, the spy, said to be a Californio, called out, "here they are, taken them," at which both men jumped off their horses and fled.  One was captured, while the other managed to escape.

The man who was seized "proved to be José Jesus Espinosa, one of the gang who murdered Sheriff Barton and his party."  As matter-of-factly as can be, the Star simply continued that "he was tried by the people and condemned to death.  He was accordingly executed."   The paper reported that Espinosa issued a full confession, which was published with a letter by the mission priest, Father Domingo Serrano.  These documents were also reprinted in El Clamor Público, in its edition of the 21st.

El Clamor Público, 21 February 1857.  Thanks for Paul Bryan Gray for making a microfilm of this paper available.

Serrano, in his missive, stated that Espinosa was a "native of Monterey River," the old name for the Salinas River, which flows through the Salinas Valley, and noted that the condemned was "aged about seventeen or eighteen years."  The priest wrote the letter, he said,

considering the benefit which may result to the numerous unfortunates who are imprisoned upon suspicion of robberies and murders recently committed in or about Los Angeles, by divulging some part of the confession . . . that it might serve to quiet and tranquilize the feeling of the community which is much excited by the belief of numerous secret companies or societies . . . I have accordingly with deep solicitude labored to obtain his consent in the presence of witnesses, that I might reveal a part of what I had heard in confession, and that it all might be substantiated by him as true

This extraordinary epistle was followed by the confession, or at least the part as shared by Padre Serrano.  Espinosa's mea culpa began with his awareness that "after a few hours I shall have ceased to exist" it was time "to give a strict account of all the actions of my life."  He then stated that

we, the thieves and murderers, are but ten persons, namely: Antonoi Maria Vareles, or Chino; Andres Fontes; Juan Catabo; Juan Flores; Santos --------; Santiago Silvas, Leonardo Lopez, and the remaining one which I only know as the "Ardillero," and who I confess is innocent, as he joined us after we had committed all the crimes.  I also affirm that our organization dates back one month, or [a] little less, in which time we have committed four murders near San Juan [Barton and his posse], and one murder in that place [George Pflugardt].  We have stolen from three stores in San Juan, taking away goods and money, which with that taken from the murdered persons, I think might exceed $120, and about ten horses.  This is the truth, which I sign with a cross before my name, as I cannot write.

Meanwhile, as Rubottom and his two companions rode back from Santa Barbara, the Star continued, "they proceeded to the house of a man named Berreyessa [Berryesa], whom they arrested and brought to trial."  It was observed that Berryesa had, in Santa Clara in northern California, been tried and convicted there and "had been actually hung up, but being cut down before life became extinct, the body was given over to his friends who effected his resuscitation.  The mark of the rope still remained on his neck."

El Clamor Público, 21 February 1857.

Apparently, this version was not the case.  Instead, it has been alleged that Berryesa, in July 1854, was taken prisoner by a posse and a rope placed around his neck for questioning.  Two of this brothers were killed in the next couple of years and Berryesa then relocated to Ventura.  The Star reported that "since then, he committed another murder.  These facts having been proved satisfactorily, he was also condemned and executed."  A third man was arrested some fifteen miles east of Ventura because he was "in a rather suspicious position" and, though this unnamed individual was jailed, nothing further came about.

As we will soon see, the bitterness between the two Los Angeles newspapers, the Star and El Clamor Público intensified as their very different perspectives on the actions of citizens in dispensing justice, especially at San Gabriel, were displayed for readers.  The next post, however, takes us to another example of summary justice--this time involving one of the captains of the bandit gang, Juan Flores.

The Barton Massacre of 1857, Part Four

In the aftermath of the brutal slayings in January 1857 of Los Angeles County Sheriff James R. Barton and three members of a posse led by him to find members of the Flores-Daniel Gang in what is now Orange County, a coordinated effort involving well over 100 men scoured the Santa Ana Mountains and passes leading to and from the Los Angeles region.

A number of men were captured and executed by members of the organized citizen calvaries in the days after the murders, but there were also some gross excesses that took place.  The most notorious occurred in San Gabriel on Thursday the 29th.  The Los Angeles Star reported that

On Thursday last, Mr. Cyrus Sanford, of the Mission [San Gabriel], was attacked by Miguel Soto and two others.  Mr. Stockton came to his assistance, and the fight continued for some time pretty sharp, in close quarters.  Sanford shot Soto in the thigh, and Soto shot Sanford’s horse four times in the breast.  Soto, being disabled, left his horse, and ran afoot to take refuge in a marsh near at hand.  He managed to cover up his body with mud and weeds.  At this time some of the citizens from Monte., Messrs. Houstin, King, and Ward came up, and set fire to the weeds and burned them off the ground.  This exposed the position of the crafty robber, when one of the party, Mr. King, we believe, fired and shot Soto through the heart.  The head of the robber was then cut off and taken to the Monte, where it was recognized by Mr. W. H. Peterson, as the head of Miguel Soto, who had been examined before Justice Sackett for the robbery and attempt at murder of Mr. Twist some time ago. [there is a case, dated 23 April 1857, for four men, Juan Gonzales and Benito Juarez—identified above as being part of the Daniel/Flores gang—being among them, along with Eusebio Gonzales and Miguel Blanco—all were acquitted.]

The Star was provided information that "Soto . . . had with him . .  a gun, recognized as one lent by F[rancis] Mellus, Esq. to Sheriff Barton, previous to starting on his ill-fated expedition."

Los Angeles Star, 31 January 1857.

In a separate article from the same edition, the paper stated, “a number of arrests were made at the time by the people of the Mission of San Gabriel, who afterwards organized a court and tried the prisoners, and sentenced them to be hung.”  This included Juan Valenzuela, Pedro Lopez, and Diego Navarro.  “The rope having broke in the course of execution, the men were led out and shot dead.”

“Thus four of the banditti who recently committed the murder of Sheriff Barton and his three associates, have expiated their offences with their lives—and others will follow.”  Yet none of these four men were identified earlier in that day's Star as being members of the Flores/Daniel gang.

Separately, Miguel Blanco, while in jail, confessed that Soto, shot at the Mission, was concerned in the Twist robbery and confessed his own involvement and that of the party.   Juan Gonzalez, who may have been the same man of that name who escaped with Juan Flores from San Quentin in October 1856, and Benito Juarez, were in the paper's list of those involved in the Barton murders.

On 23 April, Blanco, Juarez, Gonzalez and the latter's brother, Eusebio, were tried in the county's Court of Sessions, on the charge of stealing $1000 and other items from Twist, who was a Los Angeles citizen militia leader and ex-Santa Barbara County sheriff, and acquitted of the charges.  If Juan Gonzalez was the same escapee from state prison, though, he was returned on 24 July.

As for El Clamor Público, its take on the San Gabriel killings was entirely different from that of the Star.  Its edition of 31 January reported that "last Thursday, there were four individuals arrested suspected of being accomplices in the late murders; three of them were hung and a fourth killed by gunfire."  The paper then criticized the fact that "a company of armed men, under the pretext of being empowered to summaril execute criminals threw themselves like voracious lions on some unhappy victims of their wild appetite, and they have sacrificed them in outrageous scaffolds."

El Clamor Público, 31 January 1857.

In listing the names of the four dead men, El Clamor focused on Navarro, providing a statement from his father that the young man was applying brea (tar) on the roof of the family house and came down when several armed men approached and then seized Navarro and took him to the spot of execution.  It was noted that the rope broke when Navarro was swung up, but that "the bloody mob, most of them drunken" then shot and mortally wounded him and that, Navarro's wife, a "heroic woman," took the dying Navarro in her arms and held him until he expired.

The paper concluded this initial coverage with some "Observations," including the fact that here was an instance in which "authorities do not comply with their responsibilities" and although a community might rise up "there is no reason for sacrificing innocent victims in a furor."  The editorial went on to note that "In all countries that call themselves civilized, there is a distinction between virtue and vice, but never has it been seen that some will pay for one with the lack of the other."

In coming editions, the equally sharp distinctions between the two papers in the analysis of what happened at San Gabriel became more manifest and heated.

In its 7 February number, the Star decried the "false account of events" propagated by its rival and stated "we deem it necessary to give a correct statement of facts as they were."  The paper reported that Cyrus Sanford and two other men were riding near the mission when William M. Stockton, a nearby rancher, rode towards the trip "with a Mexican, while another Mexican approached them from one side," this pair evidently traveling together until Stockton met up with one and the other rode off to the side.  When Sanford and his companions were in view, Stockton yelled out "look for that man, he's a thief."  The two Mexicans then allegedly fired at Sanford and another man, said to be Navarro rode away and was overtaken at his home.  Asked why he fled, Navarro was said to have made up a story about seeking money from one of the pair of Mexicans that owed him.  Soto was supposedly one of these two and ran off into the swamp where he was then killed by one of the King brothers of El Monte.

Los Angeles Star, 7 February 1857.

From there "a general search took place, and a large number of suspected persons were taken prisoners—among them Pedro Lopez and Juan Valenzuela."  A popular tribunal was held and it was reported that among the jurymen "were some natives" and "a fair and impartial rial was given them."  As proof of this, it was stated that "a large number were released."  Navarro was said to be "of general bad character, and dangerous to be permitted to live in any peaceable community, and to be connected with thieving parties."  Valenzuela was determined to be "an old offender" guilty of involvement "in serveral robberies and attempted burglaries" including a recent theft of sheep.  Lopez was accused of being a thief of a mule and "maintaining himself by cock-fighting and cattles-stealing."  

Because of these accusations and associations, "each of these men were sentenced to die, and they were executed."  As to the claim that Navarro died in the arms of his wife, it "never had any truth in it, but is one of that class articles which has too often, for the last year, appeared in that incendiary publication called El Clamor Publico."

In its turn, that paper, in its edition of the 7th, observed that, even "if all this certain that he [Miguel Soto] was a criminal, his death does not stop being terrible."  It related that the firing of the swamp where he was hidden caused Soto, "in the agony of his pain" to "in desperation dig a pit with his hands to bury himself."  Then, he was killed and "his head was cut off and the body remained abandoned for food for the animals and birds."  It went on to suggest that "Evil be a man and having committed crimes that are detestable to the eyes of the community, the noble heart always takes pity on what he feels for humanity and he does not pursue them as if they were the same as so many animals of the field."

El Clamor Público, 7 February 1857.

A separate editorial in El Clamor claimed that "a general feeling of indignation has been excited amongst our fellow citizens concerning the executions that took place in San Gabriel of the four individuals suspected of being accomplices of the thieves" who killed Barton and his posse members.  It further stated that "recent revelations have declared they were not gulty of the crimes attributed to them and if at some time they had done things that merited the exemplary punishment given to them, we are ignorant of it."  Declaiming to "antagonize among the races that live here," the paper wrote that "our object is the cause of understanding justice, so that all of this county's inhabitants can live in more tranquil circumstances and in better harmony than before."

Still, El Clamor decried the fact that public vindication had to be satisfied and called for an acceptable reason was needed for "those four people who perished so ignominiously."  It ended by stating that "what we ask is what we believe is very just" pertaining "to the rights of equality, justice and liberty that the laws confer on us, as having the privilege of being born here."

The rhetoric would only intensify as will be shown in the next post.  

Criminal Justice Lecture This Saturday!

The Homestead Museum, which last week had its first offering in the second year of the "Curious Cases" series of lectures and group discussions of noted criminal events from 19th-century Los Angeles, is hosting a special lecture as a complement to that series.

John Mack Faragher, an award-winning Yale historian, has just published his book Eternity Street: Violence and Justice in Frontier Los Angeles, and will present a lecture about it at the Homestead this Saturday, 6 February from 2 to 4 p.m.

To reserve your seat, call the museum at 626.968.8492 or email info@homesteadmuseum.org.