 A History of California the American Period by Robert Glass-Cleland. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 21 The Queen of the Cow Counties While Northern California was rejoicing in the prodigal riches of the Sierras and establishing a commercial and financial supremacy destined to last long after the close of the Gold Excitement, the southern part of the state found itself almost entirely cut off from any share in the newly discovered wealth. There was, it is true, a material increase of population in the southern counties, due in part to the immigration over the southern routes, much of which, though originally bound for the Sierras, actually got no farther than San Diego or Los Angeles, and to a considerable backdrift from the mines. The southern merchants also enjoyed a season of prosperity, so long as the overland caravans had to be supplied with food and other necessaries for the journey northward. But only in these or similar indirect ways did the south profit from the golden wealth with which the north was enriched. When the first excitement of the Gold Rush died out, the people of the Coast Counties accordingly turned their attention more and more to the industry which had been the mainstay of California's economic life from the beginning of the Spanish occupation, and for more than a decade longer. Cattle-raising remained almost a sole industry of southern California. From Monterey to San Diego, indeed, the population was so thoroughly devoted to this distinctive business that the counties were derisively dubbed the Cow Counties by the commercial and mining communities of the more prosperous north. The chief of these Cow Counties was Los Angeles, whose ranges alone, according to one authority, supported over 100,000 cattle in 1854. Next came Santa Barbara with approximately 50,000 head, and a very lordly group of cattle-barons whose control of that county's politics and business was complete. Monterey had nearly as many cattle as Santa Barbara. San Bernardino boasted close to 30,000 head, and San Luis Obispo claimed perhaps half that number. The maintenance of this industry required the same large land holdings that had characterized the old days of Spanish-Mexican control. The methods of raising cattle were still much the same, and the range had to supply feed through all the seasons without assistance from Granary or Haystack. In the south, as in every other section of the state, land titles were thrown into confusion by the transition from Mexican to American control, and the adjudication of claims by the land commissioners and the courts left many of the original holders with only a scant remnant of a once princely heritage. In these proceedings, so much of the land went as lawyer's fees that as early as 1852 the Los Angeles Star estimated that one-tenth of the disputed holdings had been paid out in defense of the possessor's titles. One of the most serious causes of these disputed titles, and of the endless boundary litigation that characterized the decade of the fifties, was the undefined limits of the land grants under the old Spanish-Mexican regime. A typical case of this kind is cited by J. M. Gwynn. Quote, as an example of indefinite boundary lines, he says, take those of La Habra Rancho, formerly in Los Angeles, but now in Orange County, and these are not the worst that might be found in the records. Commencing at the Camino Viejo, or Old Road, and running in a right-line 550 varas, more or less distant from a small corral of tuna plants, which plants were taken as a landmark, then sent a direction west by south, running along the Camino Viejo, 18,200 varas, to a point of small hills at which place was fixed, as a landmark, the head of a steer. From thence, east by north, passing a Cuccio, or Wasteland, 11,000 varas, terminating at the right-line of the small corral of tuna's aforesaid, the point of beginning. In the course of time the Camino Viejo was made to take a shorter cut across the valley, the corral of the tuna's disappeared, a coyote or some other beast carried away the steer's head, the three oaks were cut down and carted away for firewood, the small stone was lost, the Cuccio was reclaimed from the desert, and the La Habra was left without landmarks or boundary lines. The landmarks lost, the owners of the adjoining ranchos, if so inclined, could crowd them over onto the La Habra, or its owner in the same way could increase the area of his possessions, and the expanding process and all probability would result in costly litigation. Yet despite squatters, litigation, and mortgage foreclosures, some of the native families succeeded in retaining their far-stretching leagues of grazing land, upon which still roamed vast herds of long-horned, slim-bodied cattle. Among the American rancheros, too, were a number of those early immigrants who came to Southern California in the 30s or early 40s and established a friendship and close identity of interest with the Californians. Thus for several years after conditions in Northern California had been completely revolutionized by the gold discovery, and all of the changes the great migration entailed, life in the South retained much of its pastoral, unhurried character, partaking more of the characteristics of the native epoch than of the excitement, stir, and manifold business activities of the North. The large ranches, however, whether of Californian or American ownership, were not looked upon with favor by the settlers who came to Southern California to acquire land for agricultural purposes. Interests between squatters and rancheros were not at all uncommon, and on more than one occasion whole communities of the new settlers banded themselves together to resist dispossession. Paragraphs similar to the following appeared frequently in newspapers of the time, showing the inevitable conflict of interest between the newly arrived Americans and the old-time landholders. This particular notice was dated at El Monte, December 4th, 1854. It read as follows, We, the undersigned citizens and residents of the San Francisco Ranch, do hereby agree to protect each other in our present claim lines until there is a final decision by the courts of the United States, either for or against it, and that we will not allow Mr. Dalton or any other man to sell the land so claimed or intrude upon said lines in any way until such decision is made. Other difficulties, besides those presented by the squatters and small farmers, kept the cattle barons from finding life altogether monotonous. The demand for beef in the mines and by the newly arrived immigrants at first furnished a highly profitable market for the Southern cattle. But this very demand, with the ensuing high prices, stimulated competition from an unexpected quarter. Large droves of cattle and sheep soon made their appearance in California from the ranges of Sonora, Chihuahua, and New Mexico. And although such an overland drive at best required weeks of time and not infrequently resulted in heavy losses from floods, starvation, or Indian attack, the last sometimes indeed destroying the entire enterprise men and animals alike. Yet whenever the California market promised a satisfactory price in those early years, sheep and cattle from beyond the Colorado sooner or later reached the coast. In 1855 this form of competition, together with a large increase of Southern California herds due to several satisfactory rainy seasons, threw the industry into a severe depression. These fell some 75% until prime cattle could be bought for four or five dollars ahead. But within the next year or two prices again reached normal levels and a revival of the business brought the herds back to normal size. Yet the cattle industry, even when most prosperous, was not an unmixed blessing for the Southern part of the state. So long as the business showed a profit, the owners of the large ranches were in no hurry to break up their holdings into small ranches for the benefit of settlers. Other forms of agriculture were accordingly discouraged and the increase of population retarded. Fortunately, before these evils had reached serious proportions, a trick of nature destroyed the supremacy of the cattle barons and forced a subdivision of many of the largest ranches. A severe drought in 1856, following the low prices of the preceding year, caused a good deal of temporary discomfort to the cattle owners and many of them lost a considerable percentage of their herds. But these losses were trifling compared to those which occurred in the early 60s. The season of 1860 to 61 was unusually dry. Cattle died by the hundreds for lack of grass and water and the owners anxious to save as much as possible from the wreckage flooded the markets with such half-starved animals as they were able to drive to the cities. The price of beef dropped to four, three, and even two cents a pound in the shops, and on many of the ranches the cattle were killed for what their hides, horns, and bones alone would bring. This severe drought, which not only destroyed many animals but also left large numbers too weak and emaciated to withstand an unfavorable winter, was followed by one of the most prolonged rains the state is ever known. Beginning on December 24, 1861, the storm continued almost without interruption for nearly a month. So rarely was the sun visible during that time that the star published the following bit of interesting news. Quote, The phenomenon, on Tuesday last the sun made its appearance. The phenomenon lasted several minutes and was witnessed by a great number of persons. The floods which resulted from this storm ground hundreds of cattle in the lowlands. But the damage was much more than offset by the benefit received by the ranges and underground sources of water supply. During the two succeeding seasons the cattle found an abundance of grass and the losses suffered in the preceding years were almost forgotten. Then came the great disaster, the drought of 1864. The fall of 1863 was unusually dry, and even the winter months during which California normally receives her chief rainfall brought no relief. Day after day went by with cloudless skies, and the grass failed to sprout from the famished earth. The springs and waterholes dried up, and the great ranges were eaten bare of every kind of feed. Quote, The loss of cattle was fearful, says the historian of early Southern California in speaking of this drama. The plains were strewn with their carcasses. In marshy places and around the Sienegas, where there was a vestige of green, the ground was covered with their skeletons, and the traveler for years afterwards was often startled by coming suddenly on a veritable Golgotha, a place of skulls, the long horns standing out in defiant attitude as if protecting the fleshless bones. It is said that 30,000 head of cattle died on sterns ranchos alone. The great drought of 1863 to 1864 put an end to cattle raising as the distinctive industry of Southern California. The Sacramento Union estimated that from one half to three-fourths of the cattle in Los Angeles County died of starvation in this great drought. The news stated that 5,000 head had sold in Santa Barbara for 37.5 cents apiece. Only one rancher held a rodeo in all Los Angeles County during that disastrous season. Range lands fell so low in value that some of the Southern counties assessed them at ten cents an acre. The same valuation that was placed on each individual grapevine in the wine vineyards. The cattle industry could not survive this disaster. Many of the ranchers who had borrowed money at the usurious rates then in Vogue were forced to give up their holdings. The new owners found it more profitable and less risky to divide the ranges into small ranches and sell them in this fashion to the ever-increasing number of settlers, then to attempt to maintain the business of cattle raising in the old way. So while the drought of 1864 brought loss and, in many cases, ruin and changed the whole economic life of Southern California, it was, after all, a blessing in disguise for it led to those diversified and highly productive forms of agriculture which have so long furnished the basis of Southern California's prosperity and determined their whole mode of life. In the fifties, however, outside of the cattle industry, the agricultural productions of Southern California were decidedly limited. Grain was grown in considerable quantities in nearly all of the Southern counties, and some flour was ground in primitive mills for local consumption. In a small way there was, likewise, some production of vegetables and of the commoner varieties of deciduous fruits for commercial purposes. A few seedling oranges were also shipped north from the trees planted by William Wolfskill and the other pioneers in the citrus industry. By way of contrast to this insignificant production of deciduous and citrus fruits, however, the vineyards of the South were already yielding very heavily. By 1860 a million pounds of fresh grapes packed in sawdust were being shipped annually from San Pedro. In addition, a considerable quantity of wine was manufactured in each season in Southern wineries. After supplying the local demand, much of this was sent north to San Francisco in the mines. Manufacturing was almost non-existent. A little lumber was sawed in the San Bernardino Mountains, but most of that required for building purposes was brought down from the north. And even in those early days the annual importations were heavy enough to make San Pedro one of the largest lumber ports along the coast. The lack of a customs house at San Pedro, however, for some time seriously interfered with the prosperity of Southern California and increased enormously the cost of all goods imported from other countries. Such imports, under the circumstances, had first be landed at San Francisco and then were brought down to the Southern port. The hardships imposed by this requirement were strikingly shown in a memorial from the merchants of Los Angeles in 1850, asking Congress to establish a customs house at San Pedro. Part of the memorial read as follows, quote, The conditions of the country in which your memorialists reside are peculiar and hence results a marked singularity in the state of its trade. This proximity to the mining regions has caused it to be substantially denuded of all its laboring population and hence, although strikingly agricultural in its natural features, it has for the last two years been depended upon a foreign supply for not only the greater proportion of its breadstuffs, but for even the Corsa articles such as peas, beans, oats, barley, etc. These are brought usually from some of the South American ports, taken to San Francisco, and then reshipped to San Pedro. It thus appears that not only are the people of this region compelled to obtain the more costly fabrics of manufacturers at another port, but even articles of the most common consumption at what additional cost the following facts will testify. The freight alone from San Francisco to San Pedro for the last two years has never been less than twice the amount of what is charged for conveying the same articles from New York to San Francisco. The expenses upon a cargo of flour for sending it from the warehouse in San Francisco to San Pedro have been as high as $10.25 per barrel and have never been less than $5.75. One of your memorialists has paid for the expenses of a single cargo of goods from San Francisco to San Pedro for $14,000. In fine, the average additional cost upon goods purchased at San Francisco is not less than 30% upon their being landed at San Pedro. Perhaps the most serious drawback to the material development of the South was its deplorable lack of money. Interest rates as high as 5% a month fail to bring in sufficient capital to meet the demand, and under such a handicap economic progress was necessarily slow. Harris Newmark, who came to Los Angeles in 1853 and died there in 1916, states that interest rates are from 2% to 12.5% per week were not unknown. In footnote. Twice, however, the hopes of the South were greatly stimulated by the excitement of nearby mining booms. In 1855 gold was discovered in considerable quantities on the Kern River. This at once attracted miners from the entire state and led to a rush of no mean proportions. The Southern California merchants were naturally jubilant over this event in which they saw an opportunity of reaping some of the rich harvest which their San Francisco, Stockton and Sacramento rivals had previously monopolized. The Los Angeles Papers played the boom up for all it was worth, perhaps for a little more. The Southern Californian of February 8, 1855, for example, contained this paragraph, quote, The road from our valley is literally thronged with people on their way to the mines. Every description of vehicle and animal has been brought into requisition to take the exultant seekers after wealth to the goal of their hopes. Ements, ten mule wagons strung out one after another, long trains of packed mules and men mounted and on foot with picks and shovels, boarding housekeepers with their tents, merchants with their stocks of miners necessary, and gamblers with their papers are constantly leaving for the Kern River mines. The opening of these mines has been a godsend to all of us, as the business of the entire country was on the point of taking to a tree. The greatest scarcity of money is seen in the present exorbitant rates of interest, which it commands. Eight, ten, and even fifteen percent a month is freely paid, and the supply, even at these rates, is too meager to meet the demands, end quote. A month later the same editor wrote, Quote, Stop the press, glorious news from Kern River, bring out the big guns. There are a thousand gulches rich with gold and room for ten thousand miners. Miners average fifty dollars a day. One man, with his own hands, took out a hundred and sixty dollars in a day. Five men in ten days took out four thousand five hundred dollars, end quote. The Kern River excitement was short-lived, and it was not until 1860 that a new rush, but on a much smaller scale, again swelled the hopes of the Los Angeles merchants. This was the result of the opening of mines in the Bear and Holcomb valleys back of the Mormon settlements at San Bernardino. A thousand persons were said to have been on the ground at one time during this rush, but the deposits were soon exhausted and the boom collapsed. But if the mines proved a disappointment, and the South remained far behind the North in population and wealth, she at least knew the value of publicity, and even before the state was five years old, Los Angeles County had acquired a reputation and a name, and incidentally possessed a group of citizens who were not at all backward in proclaiming the greatness of the section in which they lived. Quote, The queen of the cow counties bangs all creation in her productions, one of the Los Angeles editors wrote. Whether it be shocking murders or big beats, jail demolishers, expert horse thieves, strange justices, fat beaves, swimming horses, expounders of new religions, tall corn, mammoth potatoes, ponderous cabbages, defunct Indians, secret societies, bright skies, mammoth pumpkins, Shanghai chickens, grizzlies, coyotes, dogs, smart men, office seekers, coal holders, script for fights, she stands out in bold relief, challenging competition, end quote. The city which gave its name to this marvelous queen of the cow counties was little removed during the first decade of the state's history from the primitive appearance and manner of life that it had known under Mexican rule. Its houses were still chiefly of the familiar adobe type. Their flat roofs covered with asphalt from the nearby Brea pits on what is now the Hancock Banning Ranch. The general appearance of these early Los Angeles homes has fortunately been left us in minute detail by one of the city's pioneers. Most of the houses were built of adobe or mud mixed with straw and dried for months in the sun, wrote Harris Newmark. The composition was such a nature that, unless protected by roofs and verandas, the mud would slowly wash away. The walls, however, also requiring months in which to dry, were generally three or four feet thick, and to this, as well as to the nature of the material, may be attributed to the fact that the houses of the summer season were cool and comfortable while in the winter they were warm and cheerful. They were usually rectangular in shape and were invariably provided with patios and corridors. There was no such thing as a basement under a house and floors were frequently earthen. Conventionality prescribed no limit as to the number of rooms, and adobe frequently having a sitting-room, a dining-room, a kitchen, and as many bedrooms as were required. But there were few, if any, frills for the mere sake of style. Most adobe houses were but one story in height, although there were a few two-story houses, and it is my recollection that in such cases the second story was reached from the outside. Everything about such an abode was emblematic of hospitality. The doors, heavy and often apparently homemade, were wide and the windows were deep, and private houses of the doors were locked with a key, but in some of the stores they were fastened with a bolt fitted into iron receptacles on either side. The windows, swinging on hinges, opened inward and were locked in the center. There were few curtains or blinds, wooden shutters and inch-thick, also fastening in the center being generally used instead. If there were such conveniences as hearths and fireplaces I cannot recollect them, although I think that here and there the bracero or pan and hot coals was still employed. There were no chimneys, and the smoke, as from the kitchen stove, escaped through the regular stacks leading out through a pane in the window or a hole in the wall. The porches, all spoken of as verandas and rather wide, were supported by equidistant posts, and when in Adobe had two stories the veranda was also double-storied. Few, if any, vines grew around these verandas in early days largely because of the high cost of water. For the same reason there were almost no gardens." Everything in the town was primitive, society, business, and government. The chief amusements were balls, bullfights, gambling, and horse races. Theatrical performances were later added to the list. These for the most part were given by companies brought down from San Francisco in footnote. A hop at the Bella Union Hotel, which stood on Main Street above commercial and served as a center of social gaiety, was thus described by the local editor. A large assemblies of elegant ladies, good music, choice refreshments, gay gents, all that contributes to a merry meeting was there and it was fully enjoyed. On a similar occasion at the home of Don Abel Stearns the enjoyment was not quite so unalloyed for certain unbidden guests, apparently annoyed at their failure to receive an invitation, surrounded Don Abel's residence and fired upon the dancers. A pitch battled and ensued in which two men were killed and two seriously wounded. The occurrence called forth the following curiously worded comment in the next morning's star. Men hack one another to pieces with pistols and other cutlery as if God's image were of no more worth than the life of one of the two or three thousand dogs that prowl about our streets. Of the primitiveness of the courts and city government of that time there is humorous and ample evidence. Probably no better illustration can be given, however, than a municipal ordinance enacted March 8, 1852 when Manuel Riquena was president of the Common Council and B. D. Wilson was the mayor. It read as follows, quote, All persons who may find it necessary to wash articles of any kind near the habitable portions of the city will do it in the water canal that runs from the Little River, but will be careful to place their board or washer on the outer edge of the canal by which means, although they use the water, yet the washings from the dirty articles are not permitted under any pretense to again mix with water intended for drinking purposes. The infraction of this ordinance will subject the delinquent to a fine which shall not pass three dollars at the discretion of the mayor, end quote. The population of Los Angeles was composed mainly of three races, Indians, Mexicans, and Americans. But the lines of social cleavage did not follow this racial division. The better class Americans and the wealthier Mexican families were closely associated in control of the city's political, business, and social life. The poorer Mexicans and a rough American element came next in the scale, while lowest of all were the Indian laborers. Gambling dens and saloons operated without restraint, and neither San Francisco nor the worst of the mining camps furnished a more fertile field for vice than Los Angeles. A short street, leading from the plaza to Eliso Street, and known to fame as Calle de los Negros or Nigger Alley, constituted the center of the city's wickedness. The only houses on it were brothels, saloons, and gambling halls. Murder and robbery were almost nightly occurrence in this notoriously evil street. But no one ever thought of bringing the criminals to justice. The Indian laborers came to town each Saturday night to spend their week's pay for liquor, or to lose it in any one of the number of equally unfruitful ways. How many of these poor unfortunates were murdered in the dives of Nigger Alley or died in drunken brawls or perished as a result of unbridled debauchery, poison drink, cannot be known. But one has only to read the brief newspaper notices of such deaths by violence and disease to understand the rapid disappearance of the Indian population from Los Angeles County. It is one of the tragic episodes in California history. Crime and violence, however, were not confined to Nigger Alley or indulged in solely at the expense of the hapless Indians, for the whole of Southern California, like the rest of the state, suffered seriously from lawlessness and disorder during these rough years of adjustment and changing conditions. Human life at this period was about that cheapest thing in Los Angeles, says one who lived through this exciting period. Murder and robbery were the commonest of the major crimes and were due in large part to drunkenness, the universal practice of carrying arms and the general unsettled state of society. A definite criminal element, consisting chiefly of renegade Mexicans, also existed in Los Angeles. And after the first vigilante movement in San Francisco, this class received considerable reinforcement from the undesirables driven down out of the North. The law, unfortunately, did little to punish even the most notorious offenders with the inevitable result that always follows such a failure. Crime increased at such an alarming rate that the people themselves undertook at last to administer justice with the hangman's noose. The star of September 27, 1851, printed this pointed interrogation. Quote, During the past year, no less than thirty-one murders have been committed in the city of Los Angeles and its vicinity, and who today can name one instance in which a murderer has been punished, end quote. Two weeks later the same editor published a following indictment of the county officials, quote, The deputy sheriff has handed us a list of forty-four homicides which have been committed in this county within the last fifteen months. With very few exceptions, the perpetrators of the murders remain undiscovered. No person has been convicted, and if we are correctly informed, there has been but one person tried for murder since the county was organized and the defendant was acquitted, end quote. Prisoners confined in the city jail were nearly always able to escape with the aid of friends or through the connivance of the guard, and in the case of at least one notorious criminal, a Mexican named Camarillo, the obliging jailer himself furnished the necessary tools with which the prisoner dug his way to freedom. Such conditions could not long be endured by the respectable citizens of the county, so in 1852, when a prominent American named Bean was held up and murdered not far from San Gabriel, a citizens committee took the punishment of the criminals into their own hands and shortly afterward hang three men suspected of the act. Later the committee expressed some regret when they discovered that one of these was innocent. Many of the most atrocious crimes during the first few years of the decade were committed by regularly organized bands of desperados, most of which were Mexican in membership. One of the earliest these band at organizations was led by Solomon Pico. Beginning its operations in 1851, this band for months terrorized the highways and smaller settlements within a radius of several hundred miles of Los Angeles. A little later the famous Joaquin Murrieta, of whom fiction and romance have made a sort of California Robin Hood, began to favor Southern California as well as the Sierra Mining Camps with his attentions. So dangerous did this young Mexican and his cutthroat followers ultimately become that the Committee on Military Affairs, the state legislature voted a reward of $5,000 for his capture, dead or alive. A minority of the committee, however, objected to the reward on the ground that it might tempt unscrupulous and unprincipled men to palm off by purchased evidence the head of another for that of Joaquin, and thus defraud the state treasury. Besides the objection continued, the danger of mistaking the identity of individuals in this country is very common. The $5,000 reward, however, was at last offered, and after an unparalleled career of daring and crime covering almost the entire state, Murrieta was run to earth and killed near the Tahome Pass by a small company of rangers under command of Captain Love. Murrieta's head, in the hand of one of his chief lieutenants called Three-Fingered Jack, were pickled in alcohol for purposes of identification, and afterwards auctioned off at a sheriff's sale for $36. The relics were eventually sold for $100 to a merchant known as Nachos, who, having sold to great many revolvers in the lifetime of the bandit for his destruction, now proposed to use the head as a drawing card in his show window. The year 1854 was one of the worst in the criminal annals of the South. Los Angeles City alone, it is said, averaged one homicide a day for every day of the year. The citizens organized a company of rangers under command of A. W. Hope and set to work to remedy the intolerable situation. As a result of their activities, the gallows-tree on Fort Hill bore gruesome fruit, and the beams over corral gates were sometimes festooned with the hangman's noose. In less than a year, twenty-two criminals, bandits, murderers, and thieves were hung in accordance with the law or without the law, whichever was most convenient or most expeditious, and more than twice that number expatriated themselves for the country's good and their own." Yet despite such heroic measures, the two years succeeding showed little, if any, improvement over 1854. The Southern Californian of March 7, 1855, carried this brief notice. Last Sunday night was a brisk night for killing. Four men were shot and killed, and several wounded and a shooting affray. Roads were unsafe because of regularly organized companies of highwaymen who robbed and murdered almost at will. Chief of these was a band of Mexicans, fully a hundred in number, led by Juan Flores and Pancho Daniel. For more than a year, this band operated almost unmolested. In January 1857, Sheriff James R. Barton of Los Angeles set out with a small posse to arrest certain of the Flores' Daniel bandits who had murdered a storekeeper at San Juan Capistrano. Though warned against an emboscade, Barton and his men were trapped by the outlaws, and all but two of their number killed. This so aroused public sentiment that at least two hundred men, including a large company of native Californians, led by Andrés Pico, set out to break up the band. A number of the outlaws were killed outright. Some were captured and hanged on the spot. At least fifty-two others were lodged in the Los Angeles Jail. Eleven of these, among whom was the twenty-two-year-old Juan Flores himself, were later executed. Pancho Daniel temporarily escaped the fate of his companions, but he was later arrested near San Jose and after some delays, hanged by outraged citizens. Another menace to life and property was the frequent Indian raids with which the southern ranches were threatened during the Pioneer Fifties. Crossing from the Colorado River, bands of these marauders slipped through the Cajon Pass and drove off the cattle and horses of the Mormons at San Bernardino. Settlers were frequently killed in these attacks, and more than once the little colony was in danger of being exterminated. Other bands of Paiutes made a specialty of stealing horses from the large ranches nearer Los Angeles. The stolen animals were driven back into the desert or mountainous regions east of the Sierras where they were killed and eaten in keeping with a custom of the horse-thief Indians of the San Joaquin in earlier days. A small tribe inhabiting the mountains between Owens Lake and the headwaters of the Kern were especially active in these depredations and won for themselves an evil reputation among harassed ranchers. So severe became the losses from this source that in the month of March 1853, Pio Pico alone lost 500 horses from his Santa Margarita Ranch. Possies, of course, were organized to pursue the raiders, and in some cases a large number of the stolen animals were recovered. Rich battles often occurred, and though the Indians generally suffered severely in these encounters the pursuing parties seldom came off unharmed. In 1856, an ominous riot, commonly spoken of as the Great Mob, broke out at Los Angeles and threatened to develop into a serious race war between the turbulent Mexican element of the population and the American residents who had organized a vigilance or citizens' committee to check the growth of crime. The trouble arose over the killing of a Mexican prisoner by a deputy constable named Jinkins. An angry crowd of Californians and Mexicans gathered on a hill behind the plaza church and as the marshal was seeking to reconnoiter their position with a handful of men, shot him to death. The mob then marched to the plaza but broke up before the citizens' committee attempted to disperse them. The situation for a time, however, seemed so grave that the Americans and Los Angeles sent an appeal to El Monte for aid. Thirty-six men were sent by this little community as reinforcements. The city remained under guard for several days, during which time the most intense excitement prevailed. The year of 1856, described by the Pacific Sentinel as a strange, curious, excitable, volcanic, hot, windy, dusty, thirsty, murdering, bloody, lynching, robbing, thieving season, and the early months of 1857 seemed to have marked the climax of lawlessness and crime in Southern California. Yet the successful enforcement of law and the orderly functioning of the courts came but slowly, and as late as 1863, seven men, one of whom alone was known to have killed six persons, were lynched in Los Angeles during a single month. As remarked elsewhere in this chapter, during these early years social conditions in Los Angeles were extremely primitive. In this they were typical of all Southern California. Business life in the fifties was conducted in much the same, leisurely fashion that had characterized the old days when Los Angeles was a Mexican vuelo. The city, with an abundance of land inherited from the original grand to the Spanish crown, sought for two years with poor success to dispose of thirty-five acre tracks in what is now the main business section at the exorbitant price of a dollar an acre. The plaza, as in the period of Spanish-Mexican rule, still remained the center of civic activities. From it radiated most of the principal businesses and residential streets of the little Puebla. These were unpaved, poorly lighted at night, and filled with all manner of unsightly rubbish. The city's water supply came from the Los Angeles River in an open ditch, or Zanja, and on its course through the town collected impurities of every kind. There were no banks in the town and much of the small change in circulation was of foreign origin. Merchants generally closed their shops during the slack hours of the day, either to go home for meals or to engulf in a friendly game of cards with some competitor. Quote, To provide a substitute for a table in these games, wrote one of the contemporaries of that day, the window sill of a thick adobe wall was used, the visitor seating himself on a box or barrel on the outside, while the host within at the window would make himself equally comfortable. Quote, Much of the business of the merchants was done with the better class native families who lived on the ranches surrounding the Pueblo. Travel was still largely on horseback or by the old solid wheel ox carts known as caretas. The picturesque arrival of one of these lumbering vehicles is thus described by a pioneer chronicler. Quote, The sharp squeaking of the caretas, however, while penetrating and disagreeable in the extreme, served a purpose. After all is the signal that a buyer was approaching town, for the vehicle was likely to have on board one or even two good-sized families of women and children, and the keenest expectation of our little business world was consequently aroused, bringing merchants and clerks to the front of their stores. A couple of oxen by means of ropes attached to their horns pulled the caretas, while the men accompanied their families on horseback, and as the roving oxen were inclined to leave the road one of the riders wheeling a long pointed stick, was kept busy moving from side to side, prodding the wandering animals and thus holding them to the highway. Following these caretas there were always from twenty-five to fifty dogs barking and howling as if mad. Some of the caretas had awnings and other tasteful trimmings, and those who could afford it spent a great deal of money on saddles and bridles. Each caviero was supplied with a riata, sometimes locally spelled riata, or leather and rope, one end of which was tied around the neck of the horse, while the other, coiled and tied to the saddle when not in use, was held by the horseman when he went into a house or store. For hitching posts were unknown, with a natural result that there were many runaways. When necessary the riata was lowered to the level of the ground to accommodate passers-by. Savers were always provided with one or two pistols to say nothing of the knife which was frequently a part of the armament, and I have seen even sabers suspended from the saddles." With the exception of Los Angeles there were few towns of any importance south of Monterey. San Luis Obispo and Santa Barbara were but little changed either in population or in any other particular from the days of the old California regime. San Diego, even with a remarkable natural harbor, grew but slowly. Aside from a premature attempt by William Heath Davis to move the town to its present site and occasional Indian tax on nearby ranches, there was little to record in the city's annals. This was in 1850. At one time there were really three San Diego's, Old Town, Middle Town, and New Town. The last name, where Davis built his wharf and attempted to found a city, is the site of the modern San Diego, in footnote. The prospect of a Pacific railroad, so often predicted and so long postponed, brought about momentary bursts of excitement, but otherwise business and life went on their unhurried and uneventful way. Nearer Los Angeles three new communities were established before 1860. The first of these was founded by a Mormon colony in 1851 on attractive land not far from the Cajon Pass. This town, laid out somewhat like the city of Salt Lake, was divided into eight-acre blocks with open irrigating ditches running parallel with the streets. The settlement was called San Bernardino and soon grew to be a thriving agricultural center. The town was also important because of the strategic position it occupied relative to the overland trade with Salt Lake. About the same time that San Bernardino was founded, a company of Texans established themselves on the east bank of the San Gabriel River, some 12 miles from Los Angeles. The settlement was known as Monte or El Monte. It never grew to large size, but its inhabitants very early acquired an enviable reputation for success in agriculture, unanimous loyalty to the Democratic Party, and an enthusiastic readiness to hang suspended criminals. In 1857 a German settlement, known as Anaheim, was established about 25 miles southeast of Los Angeles on a large tract of land lying close to the Santa Atta River, from which the colony derived its water for irrigation. Quote, the colonists, says one writer, were a curious mixture, two or three carpenters, four blacksmiths, three watchmakers, a brewer, an engraver, a shoemaker, a poet, a miller, a bookbinder, two or three merchants, a hatter, and a musician. But in spite of this medley of professions, the colony flourished almost from the beginning and for many years its name was almost a synonym for prosperity in industry throughout the South. End of Chapter 21 Chapter 22 of A History of California, the American Period by Robert Glass-Cleland. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 22 California and Sonora, the Day of the Filibuster The annexation of California and New Mexico in 1848 represented only a partial realization of the territorial ambitions of American expansionists. During the negotiation of the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, a vigorous party had sought the acquisition of the Hall of Mexico and a somewhat more conservative group had urged the absorption of the states of Coahila, Chihuahua, Sonora, and lower California. Footnote, it is highly probable that only the political rivalries in the dispute over slavery in which American politics were then involved, prevented the annexation of these four states. End of footnote. The American expansionists did not immediately abandon their ambitions with the ratification of the treaty. Rather, they looked upon the boundary fixed by that agreement as only a temporary stopping place in the southward progress of the United States. Manifest destinies still call for the further extension of American democracy, American institutions, and American rule. Conditions in Mexico after 1848 were also such as to invite interference from the outside. The central government was torn by frequent revolutions, chronically bankrupt, and on the verge of anarchy. So hopeless was the outlook that thoughtful American and European observers generally agreed that some form of foreign intervention could alone prevent the complete disintegration of the nation. Footnote. As an illustration of this attitude, Senator Houston of Texas proposed to the 34th Congress the establishment of a United States protectorate over Mexico. The object of this measure, as he said, quote, was not to increase our dominions but to improve our neighborhood. End quote. End of footnote. Conditions in the frontier provinces of northern Mexico were especially the object of American concern during these years. Almost abandoned by the federal government, distracted by factional struggles for the control of local offices, harassed and kept in constant dread by Indian forays, the inhabitants of these outlying states were ready for almost any change that promised security and peace. The extension of American control over the sparsely settled and harassed territory across the border was not the most illogical method of solving its many problems. The view of many Americans toward these Mexican border states was clearly set forth in 1848 by an American physician attached to Colonel Donovan's expedition. In his memoir of a tour, Dr. Wiselessness wrote, quote, the greatest part of this territory has never been occupied or even explored by the Mexicans. And the thin population in the subtle parts of it proves that they never had put any great value on it. The greater inducements which the south of Mexico offered on account of mines, climate, commerce, et cetera, have concentrated there the seven or eight millions of inhabitants that composed the Mexican nation, allowing but a small portion of them for the northern provinces. One half of this northern territory may in fact be a desert and entirely worthless for agriculture. But to a great commercial nation like the United States, with new states springing up on the Pacific, it will nevertheless be valuable for the new connections that it would open with the Pacific, for the great mineral resources of the country, and for its peculiar adaptation for stock-raising. Mexico itself would lose very little by the states composing this territory as they always have been more of a burden to it than a source of revenue. All the connections which Heretofore has existed between Mexico and those states was that the general government taxed them as highly as they would submit to, which was never very great, and dragged them as far as possible into the revolutionary vortex in which the south of Mexico was constantly whirling. But it never afforded them any protection against hostile Indians, never stopped their internal stripes, or never promoted the spread of intellect or industry. In short, it heaped instead of blessing, all the curses of the worst kind of government upon them. Policy, as well as humanity, demands, in my humble opinion, such an extension of the area of freedom for mankind. If deserts and mountain chains are wanted as the best barriers between states, this line affords both these advantages by the Bolsindy mafimi in the east, and the extensive Sierra Madre in the west. On the Gulf of California, the important harbor of Weimus would fall above that line. What sort of communication between Weimus and the Rio Grande might be considered the best a closer exploration of the country must decide. But a railroad would most likely, in the course of years, connect the Rio Grande with the harbor, and give new thoroughfare from the Atlantic to the Pacific for commerce as well as for the emigration to California and Oregon. The distance from Laredo to Weimus in a straight line is about 770 miles. The plan of such a railroad, even if the height of the Sierra Madre in the west would not allow it to be carried in a straight line to the Pacific, but from Chihuahua in a northwestern direction to the Gila, would therefore be less chimerical than the much talked of great western railroad from the Mississippi to the Columbia River. And if the above-mentioned countries should be attached to the United States, we may in less than 10 years see such a project realized. This boundary line would, at the same time, allow an easy defense. Proper military stations at the Rio Grande and near the Gulf of California would secure the terminating points of that line. Some fortifications erected in the mountain passes of the Sierra Madre, where about one main road connects the state of Chihuahua with the south of Mexico, would prevent invasions from that direction, and some smaller forts in the interior would be sufficient to check and control the wild Indians. End quote. Thus, with a certain measure of public opinion in the United States favorable to further expansion at the expanse of Mexico, and with the frontier provinces of that country almost defenseless and apparently ready for revolt, it is not to be wondered at that filibustering movements became the order of the day. As might have been expected, the most important of these found their origin in California. Here the disturbed conditions of society furnished a fruitful soil for reckless undertakings of every kind, and men were ready for any enterprise in which lay the promise of profit and excitement. Because of its proximity unusually rich mineral resources and rumored antagonism to the central government, Sonora became the natural objective of the California filibusters. It is to be supposed also that the leaders of these movements saw a striking likeness in the case of Sonora to the situation presented by California in the early 40s. Both territories were rich and undeveloped natural resources. Both suffered from revolution and disturbed political conditions. Both were neglected by the central government. It is true that Sonora always maintained a closer connection with Mexico City than did California, possessed a larger native population and was less consistently disloyal. On the other hand her inhabitants had suffered much more severely from Indian attacks and were apparently almost as ready for some form of intervention in 1850 as the Californians were five years before. To conquer the state outright or to plant American colonies along its frontier which in time might bring about a movement for independence consequently became the ambition of more than one adventurous California leader. The first expedition to Sonora were led not by Americans however but by Frenchmen. There were many representatives of this nationality in California in the 50s. Some of these had been attracted to the coast by the prospect of the gold fields. Some came to take advantage of the commercial opportunities offered by the new state. Others had been driven over by the upheavals of French politics in the years succeeding the revolution of 1848. Among this large French element, naturally enough, were adventurers of many sorts, not finding conditions in California altogether to their liking. A number of the more restless of these turned to Mexico as a field of larger opportunities. The first Sonoran expedition of any importance was composed of about 150 French recruits under the command of the Marquis Charles de Pendres. The latter has been described as a man of noble family, handsome, courageous, gifted with gigantic strength and very much of a prodigal. As a matter of fact, however, it is doubtful if Pendres' expedition should be classified as a filler-bustering venture at all. He and his men seemingly had no ambition to stir up a revolt against Mexican sovereignty, but proposed merely to open the rich mining territory in what is now southern Arizona and northern Sonora. In return for certain land and mineral concessions in this frontier area, they were under obligation to establish a number of semi-military colonies to defend the unfortunate inhabitants of Sonora from the devastating attacks of Apache and other Indian tribes. The expedition reached Weymus on December 26th, 1851. Here they were greeted with the greatest enthusiasm by the Mexican inhabitants and obtained considerable quantities of supplies and ammunition as well as the promise of financial support from the local authorities. At Arispe, one of the chief cities of the state, Pendres met the governor and other officials who assured him of their heartiest cooperation in his undertaking. The march from Arispe toward the northern frontier, however, was anything but a holiday affair. Provation and danger led to disagreement and immense abordination. At last, Pendres was taken sick in one of the little settlements of northern Sonora and there either killed himself in a fit of despondency or died at the hands of one of his disgruntled followers. This misfortune ended the expedition. The dispirited survivors either struggled back to the seacoast or found an opportunity to enlist in another expedition, also led by one of their countrymen, which shortly afterward made its appearance in Sonora. This second French enterprise was of much greater magnitude than the Pendres undertaking. The leader of the expedition was an adventurous nobleman, small of stature, decayed in fortune, but full of courage and enthusiasm, known as Count Rauset Bourbon. Whatever may have been Rauset's later intentions, this first expedition was apparently organized as a bona fide mining and colonizing scheme. Dillon, the French consulate San Francisco, was one of the original backers of the venture and largely through his influence, Rauset was led to delay his plans in person before the Mexican government. In Mexico City, Rauset received a cordial reception from President Arista and also obtained the enthusiastic support of Lavassier, the French minister. Here he organized a company known as La Resturadora and obtained for it a concession for the development of the mineral deposits lying south of the Gila River and what was then the northern Sonora. The important banking house of Jekor and company agreed to finance the undertaking and return for 50% of the company's grant. Rauset, on his part, engaged to equip an expedition of 150 men, established a defense against the Indians on the Sonora frontier and opened up the valuable mineral resources which the country was said to possess. President Arista and two leading officials of Sonora named Aguilar and Cubius were also to share in the profits of the enterprise. When Rauset returned to San Francisco, he had no difficulty in securing the required number of volunteers for his company and on June 1st, 1852, landed at Weimas with 260 men. Here, however, unforeseen difficulties awaited him. The British house of Baron Forbes and company were stirring up opposition to the plans of the compagnia Resturadora in order that they themselves might obtain the concessions which Rauset had secured from the Mexican government. The contest which ensued was simply the familiar story of two rival foreign companies in Mexico, each seeking to profit from a coveted concession by promised rewards to Mexican officials. In this struggle for political favoritism, the Resturadora's rival succeeded in enlisting the support to the military governor of Sonora, General Blanco. Under various pretexts, Blanco succeeded in delaying Rauset's advance to the interior, and when he finally gave permission for the expedition to proceed, it was only that he might still more seriously embarrass it before it reached the Arizona mines. The climax came in August when the company was encamped on the Altar River in northern Sonora. Here, Rauset received a message from Blanco which compelled him either to defy the governor's authority or to abandon the entire enterprise. In Blanco's communication, the French commander was ordered to choose one of three courses. His men might renounce their French citizenship and sign as Mexican soldiers under Blanco's command. They might obtain proper passports from the city of Mexico, allowing them to enter the Arizona territory, but conferring upon them no right to denounce mineral properties. Or they might reduce their number to 50 men and under the direction of a Mexican leader, proceed to carry out the plans of the restoradora. Blanco's orders were interpreted by Rauset as an unwarranted cancellation of the terms of the concession he had received direct from the central government. It was a question then whether he should obey a state official and sacrifice all he hoped to acquire for himself and his associates or rely upon the authority of the federal administration and defy the local governor. The choice was not difficult, especially as Rauset was convinced that Blanco was acting in the interests of his English rivals. Up to this time, the expedition had about it none of the earmarks of a filibustering enterprise, but from now on it began to assume the characteristics of such a movement. Rauset's next step was to appeal to the inhabitants of northern Sonora to join him against the Blanco government, receiving some measure of support from the Apache-ridden districts in which he was encamped. He next prepared a flag for an independent state and started to march against Blanco's headquarters at Hermosillo. The attack on this city garrisoned by some 1,200 men was made by a beggarly force of 240 Frenchmen. As Rauset's command approached the town, the prefects set a deputation offering a considerable sum of money if the French would retire without bringing on an engagement. Rauset's answer was slightly melodramatic. Holding his watch in hand, he replied, "'It is now eight o'clock. "'In two hours I shall attack the city. "'At eleven o'clock I shall be master of it. "'Go tell this to your prefect.'" Due to Rauset's impetuous leadership and the savage enthusiasm of his followers, half of whom were heroes and half bandits, this pledge was almost literally fulfilled. A short, sharp skirmish drove the defenders out of their positions and gave the city into Rauset's hands. His loss was 17 killed and 23 wounded against 200 killed and wounded among the Blanco forces. The capture of Hermosillo marked the climax of Rauset's career. Seriously ill and weighted down by the responsibilities of an undertaking which had suddenly changed from a peaceful colonizing enterprise to a victorious military campaign, the French leader was in no position to press forward for the conquest of the state if indeed at the time he had any actual ambition to carry out such a program. By an agreement with a new governor of Sonora, Gandara, Rauset agreed to evacuate Hermosillo provided his men might retire unmolested to the seacoast. Once at Weimas, most of the expedition were glad to return to San Francisco, thither the leader himself sailed after some months of convalescence at Mazatlán. Rauset, however, by no means abandoned his Sonora ambitions with the dissolution of his first expedition. His countrymen, Dylan and Lavassiere who had backed him in their Restoradora enterprise again urged him to go to the city of Mexico and secure the permission of the central government for the establishment of a French colony on the frontier. Santa Ana had succeeded to the presidency and was reported to be much in favor of such an enterprise. Accordingly, Rauset again made his appearance in the Mexican capital and after some negotiations secured Santa Ana's consent to the establishment of a colony of 500 French citizens in northern Sonora to better serve as a barrier against the Indian forays. Before the details of the concession could be arranged, however, the Mexican dictator and the volatile Frenchman had a serious falling out and Rauset returned to San Francisco with a brand of an outlaw fastened upon him. But in no sense discouraged by the hostility of the Mexican government, Rauset set about the organization of the Sonora expedition. Though at first he met with very poor success, fate at last played directly into his hands. When prospects were most discouraging, the attack of William Walker upon lower California aroused Santa Ana's apprehensions against the American advance into Sonora. And as the only means of offsetting this danger, the Mexican dictator fell back upon the plan of establishing a French colony on the frontier. To carry out this major, Luis de Valle, the Mexican council at San Francisco was instructed by his government to enlist a maximum of 5,000 Frenchmen in California for the Sonora colony. These were to be sent down to Weymus at public expense and after a year's service would receive a grant of land from the Mexican government. Delvalle carried his instructions to the French consul, Dylan, who in turn enlisted the support of Rauset. As a result of the combined efforts of the three, some 800 Frenchmen were enrolled for the enterprise. The British ship Challenge was chartered to transport the expedition down the coast. But before she could sail, certain United States officials at San Francisco had taken a hand in the game, libeled the challenge and indicted the Mexican consul for a violation of the neutrality laws. After some legal maneuvering, the challenge with her passenger list reduced by half was allowed to depart. Some weeks later, Rauset quietly sailed out of San Francisco with a handful of companions in a schooner of less than 10 tons burden. After trying hardships, including shipwreck on the island of Santa Margarita, he at last reached Weymus, only to find that most of his countrymen who had preceded him very lukewarm toward any attack against Mexican authority. Nor did Rauset's attempt to induce Yanez, the Mexican commander, to join with him in a revolt against Santa Ana, meet with any better success. With a few of the French contingent, more venturesome or less sensible than the rest, Rauset next planned to drive the Mexican forces from the city. But a chaotic sense of modesty kept him from taking personal command of the attack. Less than 200 Frenchmen engaged in the affray, and most of them were badly demoralized at first fire. Oliver Rauset's bravery and exhortations could not check the route. The filibusters were scattered and many of them killed. The remainder took refuge at the French consulate, where they had laid down their arms when the Mexican commander pledged himself to spare their lives. Rauset himself was included in this pledge. A score of times during the engagement, he had courted death, and only when his followers fled like frightened sheep, had he broken the blade of his sword in disgust and followed the mob to the shelter of the consul's office. Except in the case of Rauset, the Mexican commander kept his promise of immunity to the French prisoners. But due in part to the treachery of the French consul, Calvo, the unfortunate leader was excluded from the general amnesty and received the sentence of death at the hands of a military court. The execution took place at six o'clock on the morning of August 12th, 1854. The bravery and composure of Rauset, who secured the special favor of facing his executioners unblindfolded, so unnerved the soldiers who composed the firing squad that their shots failed to reach a vital spot, and a second volley was required to complete the execution. With Rauset's death, the French ambitions in Sonora for a time came to an end. Soon after Rauset's execution, an expedition undisguisedly filibustering in its character was set on foot against Sonora by way of lower California. This was led by the redoubtable William Walker. In some respects, the most inveterate filibuster the United States has yet produced. Walker was born in Nashville, Tennessee, the son of a Scotch banker. He received a very thorough university training and also spent some time in European travel. He later began his professional career as a physician, but soon took up the study of the law and afterwards turned to journalism as a more congenial occupation. In 1849, Walker came to California and for some time maintained a connection with the San Francisco Herald. In 1851, he went to Marysville where he formed a law partnership with Colonel Henry P. Watkins, the nephew of Henry Clay. While thus engaged, Walker and a few companions met at Auburn, California and talked over a plan similar to that proposed by Rosé Bourbon of establishing a colony on the frontiers of Sonora. One may reasonably conclude, however, that the political features of this enterprise were more attractive to the Marysville lawyer than the prospect of material gain. Two representatives were sent to Wymas to obtain the necessary concession for the establishment of the colony and perhaps to sound out the Sonora governor regarding a more ambitious plan of independence. But these agents accomplished nothing. First, because Rosé had already preempted the field and second, because the San Francisco capitalists who were backing the enterprise would do their support on account of changed political conditions in the Mexican capital. Not long after this fruitless mission, Walker resolved to go to Wymas to spy out the land on his own account. At this time, there was little about the future filibuster to mark him as a popular leader. He was a taciturn, reticent man who would often sit for an hour in company without opening his lips. As much as possible, he kept himself apart from men and appeared indifferent to their opinions. Physically, too, he was poorly equipped to appeal to the popular imagination. He was below the average in height and weighed not much over a hundred pounds. A contemporary described him as, quote, a small red-haired white-eyed man, freckled faced, slow of speech, very observant, rather visionary, but possessed of a species of perseverance which is most uncommon. His courage is unquestioned and although one of the most modest men in his manners, he is as bold as a lion in his measures, end quote. On his visit to Wymas, Walker met with a suspicion bordering upon open hostility from the Mexican officials, nor did his appearance greatly commend itself to their admiration. An American named Warren, who was there at the time, thus described his peculiar costume, quote, his head was surmounted by a huge white fur hat whose long nap waved with the breeze which, together with a very ill-made, short-waisted blue coat with gilt buttons and a pair of gray strapless pantaloons, made up the ensemble of as unprepossessing looking a person as one would meet in a day's walk. I will leave you to imagine the figure he cut in Wymas, with a thermometer at 100 degrees when everyone else was arrayed in white, end quote. Before the close of Walker's stay at Wymas, there was evidence of a more friendly attitude on the part of the Mexican governor, but Walker refused to meet his advances and returned to San Francisco intent upon another plan of operations. This, in brief, involved an advance against Sonora by way of lower California. After considerable difficulties with the United States government officials at San Francisco, Walker succeeded in putting to sea in the Brig Caroline, having on board some 45 men belonging to the first independence battalion as the expedition was bravely called. The Caroline arrived at the harbor of La Paz, where Cortez had established his short-lived colony more than 300 years before, early in November, 1853. Here, Walker's men affected the landing without opposition. They next proceeded to seize the governor, Espinoza, haul down the Mexican flag and proclaim the Republic of Lower California. After a brief stay at La Paz, the expedition embarked for a new field of conquest before quitting the harbor for good. However, a detachment of Walker's men engaged in a small skirmish with the La Paz citizens, and about the same time he seized another governor who had been sent from Mexico to succeed Espinoza. After a brief stop at Cape San Lucas, the Caroline continued up the coast until she reached the harbor of Ensenada. Here, Walker made his headquarters and proceeded to organize his new government. One of the first steps in this process was to issue the Appended Declaration justifying his course of action to the American people. Quote, in declaring the Republic of Lower California free, sovereign and independent, wrote Walker, I deem it proper to give the people of the United States the reasons for the course I have taken. The Mexican government has, for a long time, failed to perform its duties to the province of Lower California. Cut off as the territory was by the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo from all direct communication with the rest of Mexico, the central authorities have maintained little or no interest in the affairs of the California peninsula. The geographical position of the province is such as to make it entirely separate and distinct in its interest from the other portions of the Mexican Republic. But the moral and social ties which bound it to Mexico have been even weaker and more dissolvable than the physical. Hence, to develop the resources of Lower California and to effect a proper social organization therein, it was necessary to make it independent. On such considerations have I and my companions and arms acted in the course we have pursued. And for the success of our enterprise we put our trust in him who controls the destiny of nations and guides them in the ways of progress and improvement. William Walker, President of the Republic of Lower California. End quote. The government which Walker established consisted of the following officials. William Walker, President. Frederick Emory, Secretary of State. John M. Jernigan, Secretary of War. Howard H. Snow, Secretary of the Navy. And Charles H. Gilman, Captain of the Battalion. And William P. Mann, Captain of the Navy. While Walker was thus occupied in Lower California, his partner Watkins was busy organizing reinforcements in San Francisco. The Brigannita was chartered to carry the men down the coast. And in order to avoid detention by the authorities, some measure of secrecy was maintained in the preparation. On December 7th, everything was in readiness and the actual work of embarkation began. It was carried out with more than usual dispatch if the following account is to be relied upon. Quote. About halfway down from Front Street, a door was thrown open and as if by magic, drays and carts made their appearance. Files of men sprung out and passed quantities of powder from the shore besides ammunition of all kinds. A detachment stood guard, the wild and utter silence, and the movements were made with such celerity that the observer could scarcely perceive how and where the articles made their appearance. End quote. The arrival of the Anita at Ensenada brought Walker both relief and difficulties. The reinforcements were badly needed for already Walker had engaged in a serious skirmish with the Mexican forces. But the Anita had scant supplies on board and the problem of securing food was rendered all the more acute by the hundred additional soldiers who was now be fed. An attack upon a notorious Mexican bandit named Menendez enabled Walker to secure a considerable number of cattle, and the flesh of these with the little corn constituted the sole provisions of the company. Necessity and choice alike now drove Walker to proceed with the real purpose of the expedition, namely the invasion of Sonora. As a preliminary to the actual conquest, he proclaimed the establishment of a new government called the Republic of Sonora. Lower California and Sonora were the states of the new republic, and a flag with two stars was unfurled as its emblem. Walker announced himself the president of the republic and Watkins became its vice president. The conquest of Sonora however proved much more difficult than the proclamation of the republic. Discontent and desertion seriously reduced the effectiveness of Walker's force. The activities of United States officials in California prevented the sending of badly needed reinforcements from that quarter. Supplies and provisions were almost exhausted, and the inhabitants of lower California were becoming increasingly hostile to the American interlopers. Walker planned to advance against Sonora by crossing the peninsula of lower California and then rounding the head of the Gulf. A more difficult and inhospitable route can scarcely be imagined. Mountains, desert, and the broad waters of the Colorado, all alike offered formidable obstacles to the struggling handful of men who attempted the march. Worn out and in rags, the company reached the river early in April. In seeking to forward the Colorado, most of the cattle were drowned, thus leaving the invading army with almost no source of food. Stephen Walker, though now actually in Sonora, saw the hopelessness of further conquest. Half his men deserted and straggled northward to Fort Yuma. The remnant turned back over the weary route they had come, and on April 17th reached the small town of San Vicente, where a garrison of 25 men had been left at the beginning of the Sonora campaign. This garrison had been destroyed by the bandit forces of Menendez, and the latter now began to threaten the reduced company under Walker with the same fate. The filibusters therefore turned their dispirited steps toward the American border, and though constantly menaced by the irregular troops under Menendez, succeeded in reaching the safety of American soil without having to face a serious engagement. The border was crossed May 8th, 1854, at a point close to the modern Mexican resort of Tijuana. Walker's army at this time consisted of 33 men. They were sent north to San Francisco, where in June their leader was brought to trial for violation of the neutrality laws of the United States. After deliberating for eight minutes, the jury returned a verdict of not guilty. So far as Mexican territory was concerned, this ended Walker's career as a filibuster. For a time he resumed his profession of journalism and also played an active part in California politics as a member of the Broderick wing of the Democratic Party. Footnote, this was the anti-slavery wing of that party. The old time view that the filibustering expeditions against Mexican territory were for the purpose of extending slavery is untenable in footnote. A year later, however, his dreams of empire again drove him to reenter the dangerous calling in which he had served his apprenticeship in lower California. On May 4th, 1855, Walker once more sailed out of the Golden Gate, bent on great deeds and high-end prize. His goal was a troubled Republic of Nicaragua. Here he was destined to meet with a full tale of adventure, experienced countless vicissitudes of fortune, and eventually realized, to some extent, the restless ambitions to which he had surrendered his career. Success, however, was only fleeting. On the morning of September 12th, 1860, William Walker, freebooter, pirate, soldier of fortune, and international outlaw, as he was variously called, was led out of the little Honduran town of Trujillo as a prisoner. Just beyond the town, in an angle of an abandoned fort, erect and unafraid, he was shot to death by a firing squad. Perhaps this was the fate Walker deserved, but wonders what his judgment history would have passed upon him if his dreams had become realities, even as one wonders what place Sam Houston would hold the day if the Texas Revolution had been a failure. Following Walker's fiasco in lower California, one other Californian sought to carry through the familiar plan of establishing an American colony in Sonora. The leader in the enterprise was Henry A. Krab, one of Walker's former schoolmates in Nashville who had come to the coast in 1849. Krab soon won for himself a respected name in Northern California and was elected to a number of important political positions. Through his marriage into a Spanish family, which had formerly owned large holdings in Sonora, Krab became interested in the political and economic future of that harassed state. Footnote, Krab's wife was a member of the Aensa family claiming descent from Juan Batista de Anza, a pioneer explorer from Sonora to California. In footnote. In 1856, he organized a colonizing company and took some 50 persons from California into Sonora over the Los Angeles Yuma Trail. On this visit, Krab came in contact with Ignacio Pesquiera, the leader of one of the two rival political factions in the state. At that time, Pesquiera was involved in a revolution against the local government, headed by Gandara and sought to enlist Krab's aid in the effort to unseat his rival. Krab was apparently won over by Pesquiera's representations, including a promise to seek Sonora's annexation to the United States and returned to California with the idea of gathering together an expedition to carry out the undertaking. Early in 1857, he organized the Arizona Colonization Company and enlisted nearly 100 men in the enterprise. Many of these were gold seekers from the mines in Tuolumne County and others were recruited in San Francisco. At least half a dozen were men of marked political prominence in the state. The expedition reached San Pedro on January 24th. They then marched overland to El Monte, where provisions, wagons, and horses were secured, and a few additional recruits enlisted from among the reckless Texas settlers who had made up the little community. Leaving El Monte, the company proceeded by way of San Gorgonio Pass and the Coteli Valleys to Fort Yuma. Here the company remained until March. Krab then led his men, by this time a fairly well-disciplined force, into the little Sonoran town of Sanoita. Here he learned with some surprise that the Mexican officials were preparing to resist his advance and that his colonizing enterprise was sure to be attended with some difficulty. The explanation of this unexpected Mexican hostility lay in Pesquiera's change in attitude. After Krab's return to California from his first visit to Sonora, Pesquiera and Gandara had reconciled their differences and divided the spoils of office between them. Pesquiera, consequently, had no longer any use for Krab's services and feared lest his former relations with the American might prove a serious embarrassment if they became known. He therefore bent all his energies toward defeating the plans of the expedition and destroying those who composed it. Krab, perhaps ignorant of Pesquiera's change of heart or else regarding his expedition as a legitimate colonizing enterprise based on an established Mexican law, had difficulty in understanding the critical danger in which he and his men were now involved. Leaving Sanoita, the expedition began its march from the border, but near the town of Caborca, they were fired upon by a party of Mexican troops lying in ambush. In a short time, the entire company was fighting for its life in the narrow streets and adobe houses of the little Pueblo. After several of his men had been killed and others severely wounded, Krab sought terms of surrender. The Mexican commander, Gabilondo, promised the Americans a fair trial and agreed to furnish proper medical attention for their wounded. Krab unwisely accepted these terms. His men, one by one, crossed the street from the American position to a church occupied by the Mexican forces. No sooner had they laid down their arms than they were securely bound and taken to the Mexican barracks. The surrender occurred about 11 o'clock on the night of April 6th. The next morning, the Americans were taken out in squads of five and 10 and mercilessly executed under Gabilondo's orders and at the instigation of Pesquiera. The details of the massacre are too barbarous to be repeated. For heartless cruelty the incident is unsurpassed even by the slaughter of the French at St. Augustine or the butchery of the Texans at Goliad. The bodies of the Americans were left unburied and subject to the most shameful and revolting treatment, foot known. Only one of the party, a boy 14 years of age named Charles Evans, escaped. Other Americans, two of whom at least were on American soil, were seized and killed by Mexican troops after the Caborca massacre. In footnote. Crabb himself faced death as a gentleman should as calmly and quietly as though we were going to a pleasant home. The Mexican commander had reserved for him a special form of execution. He was tied to a post with his hands raised above his head and is back to the Mexican troops. In this position his body was riddled with nearly a hundred balls. His head was then cut off and preserved in Mezcal as a trophy of the occasion. Certain American historians have shown a peculiar tendency to applaud the massacre of American citizens at Caborca as a justifiable outburst of Mexican patriotism. Such an attitude is difficult to account for. Crabb and his men were not executed by patriots driven to a terrible act of vengeance by a violation of the country's rights. The true explanation of the tragedy lies in Pesquiera's antagonism to the Anza family with which Crabb was allied and in his desire to restore his tarnished reputation and destroy those whose testimony might convict him of traitorous dealings. John Forsythe, American minister to Mexico at the time of the massacre correctly summed up the motives of the massacre as follows. Well, I think there is little reason to doubt that Mr. Crabb was invited to Sonora and that he was the victim of deception, treachery, and surprise. The sequel of history, I fear, will prove that the extermination of himself and his party was designed to cover up the complicity and treason of some of the Mexican public men of Sonora. This is only surmise of my part, colored, however, by some dark hints that have come to me to that effect. It is not easy upon a different hypothesis to account for the conduct of Crabb. He was a man of sense and energy and cannot be supposed to have gone with his eyes open into the snare that was set for him. He must have been betrayed, end quote. Elsewhere, Forsythe, who was decidedly hostile to Crabb's expedition, made this interesting comment, quote, the expeditionists have certainly chosen an unfortunate time for their movements as regards the interests of the United States and their relations with Mexico. The invasion is calculated to produce an unhappy influence, adverse to the efforts which I have constantly and perseveringly made to eradicate from the Mexican mind the deeply seated distrust of Americans and to establish in its stead a confidence in the friendly and honorable sentiments of our government and people toward them. My observation has taught me to believe that nothing but this distrust and fear of our people has prevented the states bordering the United States, especially those like Chihuahua and Sonora, overrun by savages and receiving no protection from the Mexican government, from breaking their feeble ties with the central government and seeking an annexation with us, that security for life and property of which they are now wholly destitute. The people of Mexico have been taught to believe from the examples cited to them in California and Texas that their property titles, especially the land, would not be respected by their new rulers. I have the opinion of the most intelligent man I meet here that this circumstance alone has saved to the Republic of Mexico the fidelity of Tamulipas, Nuleón, Chihuahua and Sonora. End quote. Crab's death marked the end of expeditions from California into Mexican territory. The coming of a more subtle state of society and the outbreak of the Civil War brought this particular phase of the state's history to a close. Sonora, the land of romance, the land of tragedy, the dream land of the filibuster, was destined to retain her Mexican statehood instead of adding another name to the long list of those Mexican provinces which the United States acquired in the days when manifest destiny was something more than a popular phrase. End of chapter 22.