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.

Insurrection in Los Angeles County, July 1853!

Gold Rush-era Los Angeles was, by any standard, a hotbed of crime and violence.  An underfunded and understaffed criminal justice administration system was hardly equipped to deal with the spasms of criminal activity that frequently rocked the small frontier town.

Exasperation by the press and, presumably, many of the community's citizens, boiled over in an editorial in the 16 July 1853 edition of the Los Angeles Star.  The piece began with a simple observation, "This county is in a state of insurrection, clearly and plainly so."

This was, the article went on, because, "A large gang of outlaws, many of them expelled for crime from the mines are daily committing the most daring murders and robberies."  Obviously showing displeasure with the local legal system, the writer advised that, "Good citizens should devise plans to defend themselves."

This 16 July 1853 editorial in the Los Angeles Star claimed that Los Angeles County was "in a state of insurrenction" because of increased criminal activity.  Whether or not there was an actual revolt against the authorities, as opposed to a plethora of robberies and killings, is questionable, but the sentiment of concern over crime was palpable.

There were only two alternatives the editorialist could see.  One was that "orderly and industrious inhabitants must drive out this worthless scum of humanity."  The other was that citizens "must give way before the pirates [an interesting word choice there] and be driven out themselves."

A notable and rare reference to pre-American times was then invoked:

In the times of Micheltoreno [Governor Manuel Micheltorena, who presided over Alta California from 1842-45], when the country was infested by a horde of Cholos, thieves and murderers, the citizens mustered and drove the scamps to the seaboard, and then shipped them off to Mexico, where they belonged. 

To the author, "This was revolution, and just such another revolution is needed now."  Otherwise, the piece prophesied, it "will be too late when the assassin's knife has deprived the county of half her best citizens."

Consequently, the only real action was to "Let good citizens combine and drive the rascals headlong into the sea."

Now, there was almost certainly no little exaggeration, overrreaction and a faulty sense of history at work in this exercise in exasperation.  The overthrow of Micheltorena by rebels led by Pío Pico took place at Caheunga Pass in early 1845 and was about far more than just Micheltorena's notorious "guard" composed, it was claimed, of recently-released convicts (Cholos) from Mexican jails.

As to the claim that these "Cholos" were "thieves and murderers," that is not clear at all.  The one in-depth study of criminal justice in Mexican California, David Langum's 1987 study Law and Community on the Mexican California Frontier does not make any reference to increased crime during the Micheltorena years.  He did state that "Crime tended to be localized in the rural society of Mexican California."

There is also in the book a table of cases, compiled by Abel Stearns in the main Los Angeles court, that of the "First Instance," for the years from 1830-1846.  Of the 100 cases listed, 14 were for murder and 24 for theft and robbery.  On a percentage basis, these are not that far removed from statistics for the American era, other than the general scale for crime was much lower in the Mexican period.

The same issue of the Star included this account of the killing of Mexican-born Dolores Martinez in "the upper part of the city," an area commonly known as "Sonoratown."  The piece noted that an inquest of Justice of the Peace (later County Judge) William G. Dryden led to a verdict of Martinez being shot "by a person or persons unknown."

The same day as the "insurrection" editorial were short articles about a homicide and the capture of a horse thief by the Los Angeles Rangers para-military organization.  1853 was also when legendary bandit Joaquin Murieta was spotted throughout California, sometimes in several places at one, before his supposed capture and killing.

In general, there were many crimes and acts of violence plaguing Los Angeles and its outlying areas, so the sentiment expressed in the editorial is understandable.  Whether there was an "insurrection," defined in The American Heritage College Dictionary as "an open revolt against civil authority or a government in power, or not is debatable.

However, this wouldn't be the last time that kind of language was used.  In July 1856, after a deputized constable, William W. Jenkins, killed  Antonio Ruiz, who was being served with a writ of attachment for a $50 deby, and after the January 1857 murder of Sheriff James R. Barton and members of a posse riding to capture bandits near San Juan Capistrano, the fears of a revolt against authorities and "whites" generally were bandied about considerably in the press and elsewhere.

Certainly, in times of higher criminal activity, in an area often brimming with ethnic tension, the tendency to react with more emotion and fear is common.  Whether these impressions are based on real or imagined conditions is another matter.

A Murder a Day?: Homicide in 1850s Los Angeles

Los Angeles, the City of Angels, had a nationwide reputation as a den of deviltry.  During the 1850s and, especially, the heyday of the Gold Rush in the first years of that decade, the levels of violence found in the town and country was nothing less than shocking.

Naturally, homicide is the type of crime that gets the greatest amount of attention.  When it comes to trying to get a handle of how much homicide there was during the tumultuous Fifties, however, there is a wide range of information out there.

For example, Horace Bell, a longtime resident who arrived in the town in late 1852, wrote in his entertaining but exaggerated memoir, Reminiscences of a Ranger, published in 1881, that "the year '53 showed an average mortaility from fights and assassinations of over one per day in Los Angeles."  He went on to claim that "police statistics" showed more murders in California than in the rest of the United States and more in Los Angeles than throughout the state.

This excerpt from the 1927 edition of Horace Bell's Reminiscences of a Ranger states that there was more than a murder a day in Los Angeles in 1853.

The polar opposite of Bell in temperament and style was merchant Harris Newmark, a migrant of 1853 to Los Angeles who wrote his Sixty Years in Southern California in, of course, 1913.  Newmark observed that "human life at this period was about the cheapest thing in Los Angeles" and identified Calle de los Negros, or "Nigger Alley" as Newmark expresed it, a short, narrow lane off the southeast corner of the Plaza as where "a large proportion of the twenty or thirty murders a month" took place.

William Lewis Manly, a survivor of the ill-fated Death Valley '49ers emigrant party, wrote in his book, Death Valley in '49, that "the country was overstocked with desperate and lawless renegades in Los Angeles, and from one to four dead men was about the number picked up in the streets each morning."

There were, however, more muted reports.  Rev. James Woods organized a Presbyterian church at Los Angeles in 1854-55 and, in his Recollections of Pioneer Work in California, observed "I do not think it would be much exaggeration to say that, during that year, there was an average of one person killed each week."  Bear in mind that Woods admitted this could be a slight distortion of the truth.

William Brewer who wrote of his experiences as a surveyor through California, stated in his memoir that "fifty to sixty murders per year" was common in Los Angeles in the years prior to his first visits around 1860.

Merchant Harris Newmark in his memoir, Sixty Years in Southern California, claimed that there were some 240 to 360 murders a year in Los Angeles when he arrived in town in 1853.

Then, there is the 11 October 1851 edition of the fledgling newspaper, the Los Angeles Star, which cited a list provided by the deputy sheriff showing that, over the preceding fifteen months, there had been 44 homicides in Los Angeles County.  Twenty of these were in the city and outlying township of Los Angeles.  Notably, seventeen were in the San Bernardino area, which had only recently been established as a Mormon outpost.  Of these, however, eleven were members of the Irving bandit gang killed in a clash with Cahuilla Indians near present-day Redlands.

This latter brings up an important point:  if these bandits were outsiders from northern California who happened to be in the region for a short period of time and then were killed in a pitched battle, how do we define "homicide" or "murder"?  How many more of the reported "homicides" were matters of self-defense, suicide, or other types of death that are distinct from murder?

Finally, there is the ambitious effort mounted by the sociologist Eric Monkonnen and students to tally all homicides in Los Angeles from 1827 to 2002.  Conducted for the Criminal Justice Research Center at Ohio State University, the database could not be further refined when Monkonnen suddenly died in 2005.

What the table of homicides show is a range of between eight and twenty-eight incidences during the 1850s, with the peak occurring in 1854 and twenty-five more homicides taking place the following year.  These totals were nearly twice as much as the third highest total, fifteen in 1853.  Subsequent years showed a noted decline, to three each in 1862 and 1863, and then, as Los Angeles experienced its first significant growth in the late 1860s and early 1870s, a rise to as high as seventeen homicides in 1870 and eleven the next year.

There is a problem, however, with this data.  On 24 October 1871, a nightmare of staggering proportions was experienced when a multiethnic mob of Europeans, Americans, Mexicans and Spanish-speaking Californios shot, stabbed and hung nineteen Chinese males (including a 15-year old) in a mass lynching.  These victims inexplicably are missing from the table Monkonnen and his associates compiled.

The Rev. James Woods, a Presbyterian minister in Los Angeles in 1854-55, stated, with not "much exaggeration" that about 50 persons were killed in the town that year in this statement from his Recollections of Pioneer Work in California.

In any case, the significant variations in statistics are notable.  Perhaps the best the can be said is that the extremes of a "murder a day" found in Bell, Newmark and Manly are almost certainly gross exaggerations.  At the same time, the Monkonnen research is probably undercounted.  Maybe Woods, Brewer and the Star were closer to the mark.

Even so, assuming that 30-60 homicides (murders or otherwise) took place in a given year during the 1850s, this is a stunning rate for a town that could not have been much larger than, say, five thousand persons or so.

An important tangent:  the 1850 federal census, conducted in early 1851, tallied 1,610 persons in Los Angeles and 3,530 in the county.  However, a state census taken just over a year later in 1852 came up with a total figure of just under 8,000 persons in the county.  The difference appears to have mainly been in the head count of native Indians.  The federal census only enumerated a couple hundred odd native people, while the state census came up with nearly 4,000!  In 1860, by contrast, the native total was just a little over 2,000 and the city was listed as having over 4,400 residents with the county topping 11,000.

Returning to proportions: even a "modest" total of 30 or 40 homicides in a year for the county is something in the range of 1 in 200 to 1 in 250 or so, if we accept a general figure of 8,000 county residents.  Given that Los Angeles County had a reported 551 homicides among a population of around 10 million or 1 for every 18,000 or so people, it is easy to see how staggering the homicide rate was in the 1850s.  The "murder a day" totals would suggest somewhere around 4.5% of the population of the county was killed in a given year.

Sure, it could be argued that there was much more transiency in Gold Rush-era Los Angeles, so that many of those killed in the town and county were passers-by rather than settled residents.  There is no question, though, that the homicide rate, by any standard, was simply astronomical.

Why is almost certainly impossible to pinpoint with accuracy, just like finding reliable statistics on homicide and other crimes, but this blog will devote significant attention to the environment in mid 19th-century Los Angeles and look to provide some context for these mind-blowing numbers!

Before his death, Eric Monkonnen completed an article on his research for the Journal of Interdisciplinary History and which was published in Autumn 2005.  This statement might be as apt as one can find for the tentative nature of the homicide question and for most of the history of that era of Los Angeles as a whole:

On this basis of this patchwork history, we can begin to understand how a beautiful and prosperous region can become tainted with vicious, lethal crime.  Beginning is the best we can do at this point because social scientists, historians and other scientists cannot yet fully explain the causes of homicide, nor what works in its suppression.  The facts are elusive, the theories and hypotheses unconnected and speculative, and the data difficult to compile . . . as an overview, it raises as many questions as it answers.

This blog and the book of the same name, now being written, basically hold to this view.  We cannot know with certainty how crime and justice interrelate because the evidence is elusive, the interpretations are often speculative, and the data is hard to compile.  More questions are raised than answers.

But, we have to begin somewhere on the path to this fascinating patchwork history of crime and justice in Los Angeles between 1850 and 1875.  Welcome and join me as we tentatively navigate this remarkable journey!