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] . . ."
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 innocenceIn 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.
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