<h2>CHAPTER XXXI<br/> THE END OF VASQUEZ<br/> 1874</h2>
<p>Although a high school had been proposed for Los
Angeles as early as 1860, it was not until 1873, during
Dr. W. T. Lucky's superintendency and under his
teaching, that high-school courses were inaugurated here.
Then the more advanced students were accommodated in the
schoolhouse on Pound Cake Hill, where the Court-house now
stands; and from this humble beginning the present high-school
system of Los Angeles has been evolved. Later, under Dr. T.
H. Rose's leadership, the grammar departments were removed
to the other school buildings and the High School was conducted
as an independent institution.</p>
<p>In 1874, S. Lazard & Company dissolved, Eugene and
Constant Meyer succeeding, on June 15th, under the firm
name of Eugene Meyer & Company or, as the store was better
known, the City of Paris.</p>
<p>Charles H., or Charley White, long prominent in the
passenger department of the Southern Pacific, entered the
service of the Los Angeles & San Pedro Railroad in 1874, as
John Milner's assistant, and soon became the regular ticket-agent
here. After forty years of invaluable service, he is still
with the Southern Pacific occupying the important position of
Chief Clerk of the General Passenger Office.</p>
<div class="figcenter"><SPAN name="i_526" id="i_526"></SPAN> <ANTIMG src="images/i_526.jpg" width-obs="415" height-obs="571" alt="" /> <p class="caption">Vasquez and his Captors</p> <div class="poetry-container"> <div class="poem">
<div class="stanza">
<p><b>(<i>Top</i>) D. K. Smith,</b></p>
<p><b>William R. Rowland,</b></p>
<p><b>Walter E. Rodgers.</b></p>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<p><b>(<i>Middle</i>) Albert Johnson,</b></p>
<p><b>Greek George's Home,</b></p>
<p><b>G. A. Beers.</b></p>
</div>
<div class="stanza">
<p><b>(<i>Bottom</i>) Emil Harris,</b></p>
<p><b>Tibúrcio Vasquez,</b></p>
<p><b>J. S. Bryant.</b></p>
</div>
</div></div>
</div>
<div class="figcenter"><SPAN name="i_527a" id="i_527a"></SPAN> <ANTIMG src="images/i_527a.jpg" width-obs="264" height-obs="335" alt="" /> <p class="caption">Greek George</p> </div>
<div class="figcenter"><SPAN name="i_527b" id="i_527b"></SPAN> <ANTIMG src="images/i_527b.jpg" width-obs="343" height-obs="425" alt="" /> <p class="caption">Nicolás Martinez</p> </div>
<p>George H. Peck, County Superintendent of Schools between
1874 and 1876, was a Vermonter who came in 1869
and bought five hundred acres of land near El Monte. On his
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_453" id="Page_453">453</SPAN></span>
first visit to the Coast, Peck handled hay in San Francisco
when it was worth two hundred dollars a ton; then he mined a
little; and subsequently he opened the first public school in
Sacramento and the first industrial school in San Francisco.</p>
<p>Andrew A. Weinschank, a veteran of the Battle of Vera
Cruz who came to Los Angeles in 1856, died on February 16th,
1874. For a while, he sold home-made sauerkraut, pickles and
condiments, and was one of a well-known family in the German
pioneer group here. Carrie, one of Weinschank's daughters,
married a circus man named Lee who made periodical visits to
Los Angeles, erecting a small tent, at first somewhere in the
neighborhood of the present <i>Times</i> Building, in which to conduct
his show. Later, Polly Lee became a rider in the circus
and with her father electrified the youth of the town when Lee,
in the character of <i>Dick Turpin</i>, and mounted on his charger,
<i>Black Bess</i>, carried off the weeping Polly to his den of freebooters.
A son, Frank A. Weinschank, was a pioneer plumber.</p>
<p>In the early seventies, while the Southern Pacific Railway
was building from San Francisco to San José, some twelve or
fifteen bandits, carousing at a country dance in the Mexican
settlement, Panamá (about six miles south of Bakersfield)
planned to cross the mountains and hold up the pay-car. They
were unsuccessful; whereupon, they turned their attention to
the village of Tres Pinos, robbed several store-keepers and
killed three or four men. They were next heard of at little
Kingston, in Tulare County, where they plundered practically
the whole town. Then they once more disappeared.</p>
<p>Presently various clues pointed to the identity of the chief
<i>bandido</i> as one Tibúrcio Vasquez, born in Monterey in the
thirties, who had taken to the life of an outlaw because, as he
fantastically said, some <i>Gringos</i> had insolently danced off with
the prettiest girls at <i>fandangos</i>, among them being his sweetheart
whom an American had wronged. With the exception of
his Lieutenant, Chavez, he trusted no one, and when he
moved from place to place, Chavez alone accompanied him.
In each new field he recruited a new gang, and he never slept
in camp with his followers.
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_454" id="Page_454">454</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Although trailed by several sheriffs, Vasquez escaped to
Southern California leading off the wife of one of his associates—a
bit of gallantry that contributed to his undoing, as
the irate husband at once gave the officers much information
concerning Vasquez's life and methods. One day in the
spring of 1874, Vasquez and three of his companions appeared
at the ranch of Alessandro Repetto, nine miles from town,
disguised as sheep-shearers. The following morning, while the
inmates of the ranch-house were at breakfast, the highwaymen
entered the room and held up the defenceless household.
Vasquez informed Repetto that he was organizing a revolution
in Lower California and merely desired to borrow the trifling
sum of eight hundred dollars. Repetto replied that he had no
money in the house; but Vasquez compelled the old man to
sign a check for the sum demanded, and immediately dispatched
to town a boy working for Repetto, with the strict
injunction that if he did not return with the money alone, and
soon, his master would be shot.</p>
<p>When the check was presented at the Temple & Workman
Bank, Temple, who happened to be there, became suspicious
but could elicit from the messenger no satisfactory response
to his questions. The bank was but a block from the Courthouse;
and when Sheriff Rowland hurriedly came, in answer to
a summons, he was inclined to detain the lad. The boy, however,
pleaded so hard for Repetto's life that the Sheriff agreed
to the messenger's returning alone with the money. Soon
after, Rowland and several deputies started out along the
same trail; but a lookout sighted the approaching horsemen
and gave the alarm. Vasquez and his associates took to
flight and were pursued as far as Tejunga Pass; but as the cutthroats
were mounted on fresh horses, they escaped. Even while
being pursued, Vasquez had the audacity to fleece a party of
men in the employ of the Los Angeles Water Company who
were doing some work near the Alhambra Tract. The well-known
Angeleño and engineer in charge, Charles E. Miles, was
relieved of an expensive gold watch.</p>
<p>In April, 1874, Sheriff Rowland heard that Vasquez
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_455" id="Page_455">455</SPAN></span>
had visited the home of "Greek George"—the Smyrniot
camel-driver to whom I have referred—and who was living
about ten miles from Los Angeles, near the present location of
Hollywood. Rowland took into his confidence D. K. Smith
and persuaded him to stroll that way, ostensibly as a farmer's
hand seeking employment; and within two weeks Smith reported
to Rowland that the information as to Vasquez's whereabouts
was correct. Rowland then concluded to make up a <i>posse</i>, but
inasmuch as a certain element kept Vasquez posted regarding
the Sheriff's movements, Rowland had to use great precaution.
Anticipating this emergency, City Detective Emil Harris—four
years later Chief of Police—had been quietly transferred to the
Sheriff's office; in addition to whom, Rowland selected Albert
Johnson, Under Sheriff; B. F. Hartley, a local policeman;
J. S. Bryant, City Constable; Major Henry M. Mitchell, an
attorney; D. K. Smith; Walter Rodgers, proprietor of the Palace
Saloon; and G. A. Beers, a correspondent of the <i>San Francisco
Chronicle</i>. All these were ordered to report, one by one with
their horses, shortly after midnight, at Jones's Corral on Spring
Street near Seventh. Arms and ammunition, carefully
packed, were likewise smuggled in. Whether true or not that
Vasquez would speedily be informed of the Sheriff's whereabouts,
it is certain that, in resolving not to leave his office,
Rowland sacrificed, for the public weal, such natural ambition
that he cannot be too much applauded; not even the later
reward of eight thousand dollars really compensating him for
his disappointment.</p>
<p>By half-past one o'clock in the morning, the eight members
of the <i>posse</i> were all in the saddle and silently following a
circuitous route. At about daybreak, in dense fog, they camped
at the mouth of Nichols's Canyon—two miles away from the
house of Greek George—where Charles Knowles, an American,
was living. When the fog lifted, Johnston, Mitchell,
Smith and Bryant worked their way to a point whence they
could observe Greek George's farm; and Bryant, returning to
camp, reported that a couple of gray horses had been seen
tied near the ranch-house. Shortly thereafter, a four-horse
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_456" id="Page_456">456</SPAN></span>
empty wagon, driven by two Mexicans, went by the <i>cañon</i>
and was immediately stopped and brought in. The Mexicans
were put in charge of an officer, and about the same time
Johnston came tearing down the ravine with the startling
statement that Vasquez was undoubtedly at Greek George's!</p>
<p>A quick consultation ensued and it was decided by the
<i>posse</i> to approach their goal in the captured vehicle, leaving
their own horses in charge of Knowles; and having warned the
Mexicans that they would be shot if they proved treacherous,
the deputies climbed into the wagon and lay down out of sight.
When a hundred yards from the house, the officers stealthily
scattered in various directions. Harris, Rodgers and Johnston
ran to the north side, and Hartley and Beers to the west.
Through an open door, Vasquez was seen at the breakfast table,
and Harris, followed by the others, made a quick dash for the
house. A woman waiting on Vasquez attempted to shut the
officers out; but Harris injected his rifle through the half-open
door and prevented her. During the excitement, Vasquez
climbed through a little window, and Harris, yelling, "There
he goes!" raised his Henry rifle and shot at him. By the time
Harris had reached the other side of the house, Vasquez was a
hundred feet away and running like a deer toward his horse. In
the meantime, first Hartley and then the other officers used their
shotguns and slightly wounded him again. Vasquez then threw
up his hands, saying: "Boys, you've done well! but I've been
a damned fool, and it's my own fault!" The identity of the
bandit thus far had not been established; and when Harris
asked his name, he answered, "Alessandro Martinez."<SPAN name="FNanchor_32" id="FNanchor_32" href="#Footnote_32" class="fnanchor">[32]</SPAN> In
the meantime, captors and prisoner entered the house; and
Vasquez, who was weakened from his wounds, sat down, while
the young woman implored the officers not to kill him. At
closer range, a good view was obtained of the man who had so
long terrorized the State. He was about five feet six or seven
inches in height, sparely built, with small feet and hands—in
that respect by no means suggesting the desperado—with
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_457" id="Page_457">457</SPAN></span>
a low forehead, black, coarse hair and mustache, and furtive,
cunning eyes.</p>
<p>By this time, the entire <i>posse</i>, excepting Mitchell and Smith
(who had followed a man seen to leave Greek George's), proceeded
to search the house. The first door opened revealed
a young fellow holding a baby in his arms. He, the most
youthful member of the organization, had been placed on
guard. There were no other men in the house, although four
rifles and six pistols, all loaded and ready for use, were found.
Fearing no such raid, the other outlaws were afield in the
neighborhood; and being warned by the firing, they escaped.
One of Vasquez's guns, by the way, has been long preserved
by the family of Francisco Ybarra and now rests secure in
the County Museum.</p>
<p>Underneath one of the beds was found Vasquez's vest
containing Charley Miles's gold watch, which Harris at once
recognized. The prisoner was asked whether he was seriously
hurt and he said that he expected to die, at the same time
admitting that he was Vasquez and asking Harris to write
down some of his bequests. He said that he was a single man,
although he had two children living at Elizabeth Lake; and he
exhibited portraits of them. He protested that he had never
killed a human being, and said that the murders at Tres Pinos
were due to Chavez's disobedience of orders.</p>
<p>The officers borrowed a wagon from Judge Thompson—who
lived in the neighborhood—into which they loaded Vasquez, the
boy and the weapons, and so proceeded on their way. When
they arrived near town, Smith and Mitchell caught up with
them. Mitchell was then sent to give advance notice of Vasquez's
capture and to have medical help on hand; and by the
time the party arrived, the excitement was intense. The City
Fathers, then in session, rushed out pellmell and crowds surrounded
the Jail. Dr. K. D. Wise, Health Officer, and Dr. J.
P. Widney, County Physician, administered treatment to the
captive. Vasquez, in irons, pleaded that he was dying; but Dr.
Widney, as soon as he had examined the captive, warned the
Sheriff that the prisoner, if he escaped, would still be game for a
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_458" id="Page_458">458</SPAN></span>
long day's ride. Everybody who could, visited him and I was
no exception. I was disgusted, however, when I found Vasquez's
cell filled with flowers, sent by some white women of
Los Angeles who had been carried away by the picturesque
career of the <i>bandido</i>; but Sheriff Rowland soon stopped all
such foolish exuberance.</p>
<p>Vasquez admitted that he had frequently visited Mexicans
in Los Angeles, doing this against the advice of his lieutenant,
Chavez, who had warned him that Sheriff Rowland also had
good friends among the Mexicans.</p>
<p>Among those said to have been in confidential touch with
Vasquez was Mariano G. Santa Cruz, a prominent figure, in
his way, in Sonora Town. He kept a grocery about three
hundred feet from the old Plaza Church, on the east side of
Upper Main Street, and had a curiously-assorted household.
There on many occasions, it is declared, Vasquez found a safe
refuge.</p>
<p>Five days after the capture, Signor Repetto called upon the
prisoner, who was in chains, and remarked: "I have come
to say that, so far as <i>I</i> am concerned, you can settle that little
account with God Almighty!" Vasquez, with characteristic
flourishes, thanked the Italian and began to speak of repayment,
when Repetto replied: "I do not expect that. But I
beg of you, if ever you resume operations, never to visit <i>me</i>
again." Whereupon Vasquez, placing his hand dramatically
upon his breast, exclaimed: "Ah, Señor, I am a cavalier,
with a cavalier's heart!"—<i>¡Señor Repetto, yo soy un caballero,
con el corazón de un caballero!</i></p>
<p>As soon as Vasquez's wounds were healed, he was taken by
Sheriff Rowland to Tres Pinos and there indicted for murder.
Miller & Lux, the great cattle owners, furnished the money, it
was understood, for his defense—supposedly as a matter of
policy. His attorneys asked for, and obtained, a change of
venue, and Vasquez was removed to San José. There he was
promptly tried, found guilty and, in March, 1875, hanged.</p>
<p>Many good anecdotes were long told of Vasquez; one of
which was that he could size up a man quickly, as to whether
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_459" id="Page_459">459</SPAN></span>
he was a native son or not, by the direction in which he
would roll a cigarette—toward or away from himself! As
soon as the long-feared bandit was in captivity, local wits
began to joke at his expense. A burlesque on Vasquez was
staged late in May at the Merced Theater; and the day the
outlaw was captured, a merchant began his advertisement:
"<span class="smcap">Vasquez</span> says that <span class="smcap">Mendel Meyer</span> has the Finest and
Most Complete Stock of Dry Goods and Clothing, etc."</p>
<p>In the spring of 1874, Charles Maclay, with whom were
associated George K. and F. B. Porter, purchased the San
Fernando <i>rancho</i> which consisted of fifty-six thousand acres
and embraced the old Spanish Mission; and on April 20th,
Maclay invited fifty of his friends to a picnic on his newly-acquired
possession. During the day some one suggested
founding a town there. The name of the new settlement was
to be decided by a vote of the participants, and almost unanimously
they selected the title of San Fernando. Within a
couple of weeks, hundreds of lots were sold and the well-known
colony was soon on the way to prosperity. Boring for petroleum
commenced in the San Fernando Mountains about that
time, and the new town became the terminus of the Southern
Pacific until the long tunnel was completed. Maclay, who was
a native of Massachusetts, came to California at about the
same time as I did; he was at first a tanner in Santa Cruz,
but later came south and, entering into politics in addition to
his other activities, became State Senator, in which position
he attained considerable local prominence.</p>
<p>A charming home of the seventies was that of Dr. and Mrs.
Shaw, pioneers situated, as I recollect, on San Pedro Street
perhaps as far south as what is now Adams. They conducted
a diversified nursery, including some orange trees, to obtain
which Shaw had journeyed all the way to Nicaragua.</p>
<p>Toward the end of April, 1874, General E. F. Beale and
Colonel R. S. Baker, representing themselves and New York
capitalists, sought support for a new railroad project—a
single-track line to run from this city to Shoo-Fly Landing,
located, I think, near the present Playa del Rey and considerably
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_460" id="Page_460">460</SPAN></span>
north of San Pedro; where a town, Truxton—doubtless
named after the General's son—was to be founded.
The proposed railway was to be known as the Los Angeles &
Truxton Railroad, with a route from the western part of the
city in the direction of Ciénega and the Rincon de los Bueyes,
and along a corner of the Ballona. The estimated length of
the line was fourteen miles, and the projectors claimed that it
would enable the Angeleño to reach San Francisco within thirty
hours, with but one night at sea, and so add to the comfort,
convenience and cheapness of passenger travel. A new harbor
and an additional pier stretching far into the ocean were to
be features of the enterprise; but for some reason or other,
nothing grew out of the movement. As late as the following
September, the promoters were still interviewing councilmen
and ranch-owners; but the Los Angeles & Truxton Railroad
remained a mere fancy of the financier and engineer.</p>
<p>For a resort that never came to be settled by a community,
Truxton acquired some fame in the early seventies, a rumor
also being current in the summer of 1874 that a fine sea-shore
hotel was to be built there. A clipping before me of the same
date even says that "the roads to Santa Monica, Truxton and
Will Tell's are in splendid order—the former being the finest
natural highway on the Pacific Coast."</p>
<p>F. X. Eberle and wife, Marsetes, came here in 1874, bought
six or seven acres on the corner of San Pedro and the present
Eighth streets, and fitted up the City Gardens, with bowling
alleys, swings, lawns and bowers, erecting there also a picturesque
windmill.</p>
<p>I have expressed the surprise that I felt, when, upon my return
from New York in 1868, I observed that the approaches
to the hills were dotted here and there with little homes. This
extension of the residence area, together with the general lack
of street and sidewalk improvements making travel to and
from the town somewhat inconvenient, suggested, I have no
doubt, the need of the first street railroad here. In 1869, Judge
R. M. Widney, together with his associates, obtained a fifty-year
franchise; and by 1874, the little Spring and Sixth Street
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_461" id="Page_461">461</SPAN></span>
line—in time bought by S. C. Hubbell and J. E. Hollenbeck—had
been built and was in operation. It is my recollection
that this line (partly paid for by subscriptions from
property owners along the selected route, each of whom contributed
fifty cents per running foot) began at the Plaza and
extended as far out as Pearl and Sixth streets by way of Main,
Spring, First, Fort, Fourth, Hill, Fifth and Olive; and that it
was at the Sixth and Pearl Street terminus that the almost
miniature wooden barn was put up. For the convenience
of the traveling public, two bob-tailed, one-horse cars with a
small platform at each end were used over a single track
approximately but two and a half miles in length; and to
permit these cars to pass each other when they met halfway
along the line, a turnout or side-track was constructed.
Many a time at such a siding have I wasted precious minutes
awaiting the arrival of the other, belated car; and the annoyance
of these delays was accentuated when, in winter, the cars
stuck in the mud and often required an hour or more to make
the run from one end of the line to the other. Indeed, the ties
having been laid almost on the surface of the streets, service in
bad weather was sometimes suspended altogether. Each car
was in charge of a driver who also acted as conductor and was
permitted to stop as often as he pleased to take on or let off
passengers; and while the single horse or mule jogged along
slowly, the driver, having wound his reins around the handle
of the brake, would pass through the never-crowded vehicle
and take up the fares. Single rides cost ten cents; four tickets
were sold for two bits; and twenty tickets were given for a
dollar. So provincial was the whole enterprise that passengers
were expected to purchase their tickets either at W. J. Brodrick's
book store or of Dr. Fred. P. Howard, the druggist. At a
later period, a metal box with a glass front was installed, into
which the passenger was required to drop his coin or ticket.</p>
<p>In those modest days, small compensation in public utility
enterprises—if such they could be called—was quite acceptable;
and since the Spring and Sixth Street line had proven rather
profitable, it was not long before W. J. Brodrick, Governor
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_462" id="Page_462">462</SPAN></span>
Downey, O. W. Childs, Dave Waldron, I. W. Hellman and
others inaugurated a second horse-railway. This was popularly
known as the Main Street line and extended straight down
Main Street from Temple Block to Washington Gardens.
Much the same kind of equipment was used, one horse or mule
poking along with a bob-tailed car in tow, seating at most eight
or ten passengers; but the fare for adults was ten cents, and for
children five. At night, the motor power and the couple of cars
were housed in a barn at either Main or Washington Street.</p>
<p>Soon after this line was in running order, it was extended
from Washington south to Jefferson, out Jefferson to Wesley
(now University) Avenue, and thence to the race-track at
Agricultural Park; and there the shed for this section was
erected. Still later, a branch was built out Washington Street
to Figueroa, and down Figueroa to Jefferson, where it connected
with the first extension. No formal transfers were made,
transfer-tickets first coming into vogue in Los Angeles about
1889. Two routes for the cars were arranged, both running
between Temple Block and the race-track. The entire system
was controlled by the Main Street & Agricultural Park Railroad
Company, with which W. J. Brodrick was associated as its first
President, continuing in that office until his death in 1898. In
1877, Colonel John O. Wheeler, the quondam journalist, was
Manager. Later, E. M. Loricke was Superintendent—the same
Loricke who built the line between Oakland and Berkeley, and
was finally killed by one of his own cars. James Gallagher,
who went to work for the Main Street & Agricultural Park
Railroad Company in October, 1888, and who had charge also
of one of the first electric cars run here, is still a street-car
conductor pleasantly known, with the longest record for service
of any conductor in the city. As I have said, travel in winter
was anything but expeditious and agreeable; and it was not
uncommon for passengers, when a car left the track, to get out
and assist in the operation of putting it back. Notwithstanding
these drawbacks, however, the mule-car novelty
became popular with some; and one Spanish girl in particular,
whose father amply supplied her with pocket-money, was a frequent
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_463" id="Page_463">463</SPAN></span>
passenger, riding back and forth, from hour to hour, for
months. As late as 1887, there were no cars before six o'clock
in the morning or after ten o'clock at night; and in that same
year, serious complaint was made that, despite a city ordinance
forbidding any street railway company to carry more than forty
persons in a car drawn by a single horse, the ordinance was
shamefully disregarded. Another regulation then frequently
disobeyed was supposed to limit smoking to the rear end of
street cars.</p>
<p>The same year, D. V. Waldron bought about thirty-five
acres on the southwest corner of Main and Washington streets,
soon known as the Washington Gardens, later Chute's Park.
These Gardens, among the most popular pleasure resorts here,
were served by the Main Street cars which ran direct to the
gate. In addition to a Sunday afternoon variety show that
held forth in a small pavilion and secured most of its talent
from Wood's Opera House, there was also dancing for those
who wished to indulge. I may add that this so-called opera
house was nothing more than a typical Western song and dance
resort, the gallery being cut up into boxes where the actresses,
between the acts, mingled with the crowd. Patrons indulged
in drinking and smoking; and the bar in front did a thriving
business. An insignificant collection of animals—one of which,
an escaping monkey, once badly bit Waldron—attracted not
only the children, but their elders as well; and charmingly-arranged
walks, amid trees and bowers, afforded innocent
and healthful means of recreation. Waldron later went to
Alaska, where a tragic death closed his career: alone and in
want, he was found, in May, 1911, dead in his hut.</p>
<p>Waldron and Eberle's prosperity may have influenced
George Lehman's fortunes; but however that was, he always
maintained his popularity. Many a joke was cracked at his
expense; yet everybody had a good word for him. Here is a
newspaper note of '74:</p>
<div class="blockquot">
<p>Round House George is making great improvements in his
property at Fort and Sixth streets. He has already, at great
expense, <i>set out a post and whitewashed a cactus plant</i>!</p>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_464" id="Page_464">464</SPAN></span></p>
<p>The popularity of the 38's Fire Company soon inspired a
second group of the good men of Los Angeles; and in 1874 or
1875, George Furman, George E. Gard, Joe Manning, John R.
Brierly, Bryce McClellan and others started Confidence Engine
Company No. 2, obtaining a steamer known as an Amoskeag,
which they installed in a building on Main Street near First,
on what was later the site of Childs' Opera House. It soon
developed, as in the days of the San Pedro stages when the most
important feature of the trip was the race to town, that a
conflagration was a matter of secondary importance, the mad
dash, in rivalry, by the two companies being the paramount
object. This was carried to such an extent that the day
following a fire was largely given to discussing the race, and
the first thing that everybody wished to know was, who got
there first? Indeed, I believe that many an alarm was sounded
to afford the boys around town a good chance to stake
their bets! All this made the fire-laddies the most popular
groups in the pueblo; and in every public parade for years the
volunteer fire companies were the chief attraction. In 1876,
Walter S. Moore, an arrival of 1875, became the Confidence
Engine Company's Secretary, that being the commencement
of his career as a builder of the department. In 1877, Moore
was elected President, occupying that office till 1883 when he
was made Chief Engineer of the Los Angeles Fire Department.</p>
<p>On May 13th, 1874, the Los Angeles <i>Daily Star</i> contained
the following reference to Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Newmark
and an event of particular interest to me and my family:</p>
<div class="blockquot">
<p>Mr. Newmark, <i>père</i> and wife, were among the passengers
for San Francisco by the <i>Senator</i> yesterday. This well-known
and highly-esteemed couple go to attend the marriage of their
son, Judge M. J. Newmark, which event occurs on the seventh
proximo, as announced in the Star some time ago.</p>
</div>
<div class="figcenter"><SPAN name="i_540a" id="i_540a"></SPAN> <ANTIMG src="images/i_540a.jpg" width-obs="215" height-obs="316" alt="" /> <p class="caption">Benjamin S. Eaton</p> </div>
<div class="figcenter"><SPAN name="i_540b" id="i_540b"></SPAN> <ANTIMG src="images/i_540b.jpg" width-obs="259" height-obs="330" alt="" /> <p class="caption">Henry T. Hazard</p> </div>
<div class="figcenter"><SPAN name="i_540c" id="i_540c"></SPAN> <ANTIMG src="images/i_540c.jpg" width-obs="431" height-obs="360" alt="" /> <p class="caption">Fort Street Home, Harris Newmark, Site of Blanchard Hall; Joseph Newmark at the Door</p> </div>
<div class="figcenter"><SPAN name="i_541a" id="i_541a"></SPAN> <ANTIMG src="images/i_541a.jpg" width-obs="407" height-obs="350" alt="" /> <p class="caption">Calle de los Negros (Nigger Alley), about 1870</p> </div>
<div class="figcenter"><SPAN name="i_541b" id="i_541b"></SPAN> <ANTIMG src="images/i_541b.jpg" width-obs="431" height-obs="307" alt="" /> <p class="caption">Second Street, Looking East from Hill Street, Early Seventies</p> </div>
<p>Eugene Meyer and myself attended the wedding, leaving
Los Angeles by stage and completely surprising the merry company
a few moments before the groom's father performed the
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_465" id="Page_465">465</SPAN></span>
ceremony. The fair bride was Miss Sophie Cahen, and the
occasion proved one of the very agreeable milestones in an
interesting and successful career. The first-born of this union,
Henry M. Newmark, now of Morgan & Newmark, has attained
civic distinction, being President of the Library Board.</p>
<p>The reason we journeyed north by stage was to escape
observation, for since the steamer-service had been so considerably
improved, most of our friends were accustomed to
travel by water. The Pacific Mail Steamship Company at that
time was running the <i>Senator</i>, the <i>Pacific</i>, the <i>Orizaba</i> and the
<i>Mohongo</i>, the latter being the gunboat sold by the Government
at the end of the War and which remained on the route until
1877; while the line controlled by Goodall, Nelson & Perkins
or Goodall, Nelson & Company had on their list the <i>Constantine</i>,
the <i>Kalorama</i>, the <i>Monterey</i> and the <i>San Luis</i>, sometimes
also running the <i>California</i>, which made a specialty of
carrying combustibles. A year later, the <i>Ancon</i> commenced
to run between San Francisco and San Diego, and excepting
half a year when she plied between the Golden Gate and Portland,
was a familiar object until 1884.</p>
<p>The Farmers & Merchants Bank, on June 15th, 1874, moved
to their new building on the west side of Main Street, opposite
the Bella Union.</p>
<p>On July 25th, 1874, Conrad Jacoby commenced in the old
Lanfranco Building the weekly <i>Sued-Californische Post</i>; and for
fifteen years or more it remained the only German paper
issued in Southern California. Jacoby's brother, Philo, was
the well-known sharpshooter.</p>
<p>Henry T. Payne, the early photographer, was probably
the first to go out of town to take views in suburbs then just
beginning to attract attention. Santa Monica was his favorite
field, and a newspaper clipping or two preserve the announcements
by which the wet-plate artist stimulated interest in his
venture. One of these reads:</p>
<div class="blockquot">
<p>Mr. Payne will be at Santa Monica next Sunday, and take
photographic views of the camp, the ocean, the surrounding
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_466" id="Page_466">466</SPAN></span>
scenery, and such groups of campers and visitors as may see fit to
arrange themselves for that purpose;</p>
</div>
<p>while another and rather contradictory notice is as follows:</p>
<div class="blockquot">
<p>To make photographs of <i>moving</i> life, such as Mr. Payne's
bathing scenes at Santa Monica next Sunday, <i>it is absolutely
necessary that everybody should keep perfectly still</i> during the
few seconds the plate is being exposed, for the least move might
completely spoil an otherwise beautiful effect. Santa Monica,
with its bathers in nice costume, sporting in the surf, with here
and there an artistically-posed group basking in the sunshine,
ought to make a beautiful picture.</p>
</div>
<p>As late as 1874, Fort Street—not yet called Broadway—was
almost a plain, except for the presence of a few one-story adobe
houses. J. M. Griffith, the lumberman, put up the first two-story
frame dwelling-house between Second and Third streets,
and Judge H. K. S. O'Melveny the second; shortly after which
Eugene Meyer and myself built our homes in the same block.
These were put upon the lots formerly owned by Burns &
Buffum. Within the next two or three years, the west side of
Fort Street between Second and Third was the choicest residence
neighborhood in the growing city, and there was certainly not the
remotest idea at that time that this street would ever be used for
business purposes. Sometime later however, as I was going
home one day, I met Griffith and we walked together from
Spring Street down First, talking about the new County Bank
and its Cashier, J. M. Elliott—whom Griffith had induced four
years previously to come to Los Angeles and take charge of
Griffith, Lynch & Company's lumber yard at Compton. We
then spoke of the city's growth, and in the course of the
conversation he said: "Newmark, Fort Street is destined to
be the most important business thoroughfare in Los Angeles."
I laughed at him, but Time has shown the wisdom of Griffith's
prophecy.</p>
<p>The construction of this Fort Street home I commenced
in the spring, contracting with E. F. Keysor as the architect,
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_467" id="Page_467">467</SPAN></span>
and with Skinner & Small as the builders. In September, we
moved in; and I shall never forget a happy compliment paid
us the first evening. We had already retired when the
sound of music and merriment made it unmistakable that we
were being serenaded. Upon opening the door, we saw a large
group of friends; and having invited them into the house,
the merrymakers remained with us until the early morning
hours.</p>
<p>In July, 1874, the Los Angeles County Bank was started
with a capital of three hundred thousand dollars, its first
directors being R. S. Baker, Jotham Bixby, George S. Dodge,
J. M. Griffith, Vincent A. Hoover, Jonathan S. Slauson and H.
B. Tichenor, with J. M. Elliott as Cashier. Its first location
was the room just rented by the Farmers & Merchants Bank
adjoining the Bella Union, the County Bank's step in that
direction being due, no doubt, to a benevolent desire to obtain
some of its predecessor's business; and in July, 1878, it moved
into the Temple & Workman banking-room, after the latter's
failure. For a while the County Bank did both a commercial
and a savings business; but later it forfeited the savings clause
of its charter, and its capital was reduced to one hundred
thousand dollars. In time, John E. Plater, a well-known Angeleño,
became a controlling factor.</p>
<p>About the end of 1874, Edward F. Spence, who had come
to California by way of the Nicaragua route a year earlier
than myself, reached Los Angeles. In 1884, Spence was
elected Mayor on the Republican ticket. In the course of
time, he withdrew somewhat from activity in Los Angeles
and became a heavy investor in property at Monrovia.</p>
<p>In 1874 or 1875, there appeared on the local scene a man
who, like his second cousin, United States Senator Mallory of
Florida, was destined to become a character of national renown;
a man who as such could and, as a matter of fact, did serve
his constituents faithfully and well. That man was Stephen M.
White. He was born in San Francisco a few weeks before I
saw that harbor city, and was, therefore, a Native Son, his
parents having come to the Coast in 1849. While a youth,
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_468" id="Page_468">468</SPAN></span>
he was sent to Santa Clara where, in June, 1871, he graduated
from the well-known college; he read law at Watsonville and
later at Santa Cruz; and having been admitted to the Bar in
1874, he shortly afterward came to the Southland.</p>
<p>Arriving in Los Angeles, White studied law with John D.
Bicknell, who afterward took him into partnership; and he
soon proved to be a brilliant lawyer. He was also an orator
of the first magnitude; and this combination of talent made
him not only prominent here, but attracted great attention to
him from beyond the confines of city and county. Standing
as a Democrat in 1882, he was elected District Attorney by a
large majority and in that capacity served with distinction,
in the end declining renomination. In 1886 he was elected
State Senator and soon became President of the Senate, and
then acting Lieutenant Governor. After a phenomenal career
both in his profession and in the public service—during
which he was one of three counsel elected by the California
Legislature to maintain the Scott Exclusion Act before the
United States Supreme Court and thus conclude the controversy
in the Chae Chan Ping case—he was elected to the
United States Senate, and there, too, his integrity and ability
shone resplendent.</p>
<p>The zeal with which White so successfully entered the
conflict against C. P. Huntington in the selection of a harbor
for Los Angeles was indefatigable; and the tremendous expenditures
of the Southern Pacific in that competition, commanding
the best of legal and scientific service and the most powerful
influence, are all well known. Huntington built a wharf—four
thousand six hundred feet long—at Port Los Angeles, northwest
of Santa Monica, after having obtained control of the entire
frontage; and it was to prevent a monopoly that White
made so hard a fight in Congress in behalf of San Pedro. The
virility of his repeated attacks, his freedom from all contaminating
influence and his honesty of purpose—these are some of
the elements that contributed so effectively to the final selection
of San Pedro Harbor. On February 21st, 1901, Senator White
died. While at his funeral, I remarked to General H. G. Otis,
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_469" id="Page_469">469</SPAN></span>
his friend and admirer, that a suitable monument to White's
memory ought to be erected; and on December 11th, 1908, the
statue in front of the County Courthouse was unveiled.<SPAN name="FNanchor_33" id="FNanchor_33" href="#Footnote_33" class="fnanchor">[33]</SPAN></p>
<p>Hotel competition was lively in 1874. Charles Knowlton
concluded his advertisement of the Pico House with a large
index-finger and the following assurance:</p>
<div class="blockquot">
<p>The unpleasant odor of gas has entirely disappeared since
the building of the new sewer!</p>
</div>
<p>Hammel & Denker announced for the United States (commonly
known as the U. S.):</p>
<div class="blockquot">
<p>We have all <i>Spring Beds</i> at this Hotel!</p>
</div>
<p>Fluhr & Gerson—the latter long a popular chap about
town—claimed for the Lafayette:</p>
<div class="blockquot">
<p>The Eating Department will be conducted with especial care;</p>
</div>
<p>and this was some of the bait displayed by the Clarendon,
formerly the Bella Union:</p>
<div class="blockquot">
<p>Carriages are kept standing at the door for the use of the
guests, and every effort is being made by <span class="smcap">Col. B. L. Beal</span>,
the Present Manager, to render the guests comfortable and
happy.</p>
</div>
<p>A couple of years later, the name of the Clarendon was
changed to the St. Charles; next to which, during the Centennial
year, the Grand Central, pretentious of name though small
of dimension, opened with a splurge. Hammel & Denker
continued to manage the United States Hotel. The Lafayette
in time became, first the Cosmopolitan and then the
St. Elmo.</p>
<p>Octavius Morgan, a native of the old cathedral town of
Canterbury, England, came to Los Angeles in 1874 and
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_470" id="Page_470">470</SPAN></span>
associated himself with the architect, E. F. Keysor, the two
forming the firm of Keysor & Morgan. They were charter
members of the Southern California Architects Association,
and for many years Morgan and his associates have largely
influenced the architectural styles of Los Angeles.</p>
<p>A really picturesque old-timer even now at the age of nearly
seventy, and one who, having withstood the lure of the modern
automobile, is still daily driving a "one-hoss" buggy to the
office of the Los Angeles Soap Company, is J. A. Forthman. In
1874, he brought a small stock of groceries from San Francisco
and started a store at what is now Sixth and Olive streets; but
at the end of three months, having sold out at a loss, he bought
a quarter interest in a little soap plant conducted by C. W.
Gibson. Soon thereafter, vats and fat were moved to their
present site on First Street. In 1875, W. B. Bergin and in 1879,
Gideon Le Sage joined Forthman and Gibson; and in 1887,
the latter sold out to his associates. J. J., a brother of W. B.
Bergin, was added to the force in 1895. For many years the
concern dealt in hides, and this brought us into close business
relations. I have referred to the death of four children.
Edith, a child of six, was taken from us on October 15th, 1874.</p>
<p>While William F. Turner, son of the miller, was busy in his
little store near the Puente Mills about three miles from El
Monte, on the third of June, 1874, a Californian named Romo,
who lived at Pio Pico's <i>Ranchito</i>, entered and bought some goods,
also asking to be shown a pair of boots. Turner stooped to
reach the articles, when the stranger drew a pruning-knife
across his throat. In defense, the storekeeper caught hold of
the sharp blade with both hands and thereby crippled himself
for the rest of his days.</p>
<p>Turner had been in the habit of closing before dark on account
of the rough element near by; and when he did not return
home at the accustomed hour, Mrs. Turner, taking with her a
little five-shooter, set out to find him and arrived in the
midst of the murderous assault. Her pistol missed fire, but
she succeeded in seizing the assassin and dragging him
away from her husband; after which, the Mexican shot her
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_471" id="Page_471">471</SPAN></span>
just as Turner, bleeding, fell in the road. The explosion aroused
a neighbor who reached the scene after Romo had fled with
some boots—mostly for one foot!—and seventy dollars in cash.</p>
<p>When the news passed from mouth to mouth in El Monte,
a <i>posse</i> started out to hunt for the Mexican; but after two
days' unsuccessful search, they gave up the job. Then Fred
Lambourn, who had a share in Turner's business, rushed in on
Jake Schlesinger, shouting excitedly, "By God, Jake, I know
where the fellow is!" and Jake and others responded by saddling
their horses and hurrying to a rendezvous at Durfee's farm.
The party of nineteen, including John Broaded and Bill Cooper,
broke up into divisions of one or two and in time found themselves
wading in and out of the San Gabriel River and the
Puente Creek. Soon old Dodson spied their quarry floundering
across stream; and when Schlesinger took a pop at him, the
culprit cried out, "Don't shoot!" and agreed to come ashore.
Of the money stolen, all but a few dollars was found on the
prisoner; nevertheless, the captors told him that, as soon as
Turner should identify him, he would be hung and that there
was not much time for foolishness. Romo said that he had
assaulted the storekeeper in order to get money with which, on
the following Sunday, to marry; that his immediate need was a
cigar; and that, if he must die, he would like to have his friends
notified, that they might bury him. Jake handed the doomed
man his only weed; and soon after, five or six masked men rode
up and announced that they would care for the criminal.
Then they drove under a tree on the bank of the river and
there, in short order, the cutthroat was hanged.</p>
<p>Pio Pico soon heard of the lynching and sent Jake and the
El Monte boys word that he would come over and "kill the
whole damned lot" of them; in reply to which, El Monte forwarded
to the last of the Mexican governors a cordial invitation
to come, at the same time pledging to receive him in true
California style—with due hospitality and warmth. This was
contemporaneous with the Vasquez excitement, and Romo was
probably bent on imitating the outlaw.
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_472" id="Page_472">472</SPAN></span></p>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />