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Folks, I've found another Eulalia Perez fan - This one is J. Michael Walker, whose art book, "All The Saints of the City of Angels: Seeking the Soul of L.A. on its Streets" is a sight to behold. Eulalia said she liked to dance, and 100+ years later, his art gives her another chance.
http://www.jmichaelwalker.com/
http://ravenjake.vox.com/library/post/michael-white-on-los-nietos-ranch-1832-1837.html
And he sure deserves more than that. It got me thinking about a funny story that I read about his friend Jose Sepulveda, who was a total nut for horse racing. I found out this story when I found this weird picture of him. There was a total back story about the horse he was on, Black Swan, being the first thoroughbred in California and that the saddle was superfancy too – anyway, I picked up bits and pieces of the legend and then found the article I’m including here.
This was the article from the Los Angeles Times from the L.A. Then and Now section; December 23, 2001. It was written by Cecilia Rasmussen, and even though the style is breezy, the facts do check out.
Upset Victory Dashed Fortunes and Remade Horse Racing
California's long infatuation with the "sport of kings" began--as so many things here do--with an unlikely combination of immigrants: an Australian mare, ridden by a black jockey, trained by a Yankee cowboy and owned by the heir of a Spanish dynasty.
The year was 1852, and the horse was Jose Antonio Andres Sepulveda's Black Swan. The Sepulveda family was Southern California aristocracy, landowners whose holdings ranged from what is now Newport Beach to Santa Monica.
Like most Califorños, he loved horse racing and loved betting on it; as early as 1834, Californians were taking one another to court over unpaid racing debts. Sepulveda's contribution to the lore came when he entered his mare in a nine-mile race against Sarco, the Spanish-bred, undefeated stallion owned by another California grandee, Pio Pico, the last governor of Mexican California. [Pio Pico wasn't there when meeting terms of surrender with Fremont - he was there for the horse race]
That one race made or broke the fortunes of many of the region's landed families and reshaped the sport of horse racing, raising the stakes to absurd heights and turning thoroughbreds into the monarchs of the track.
Black Swan was a true dark horse. She was to Australia's racing world what Sarco was to California's. One in an equine breed unknown to californios, she seemed undersized and more delicate than her California competitors. Sepulveda had bought her sight unseen on the strength of her reputation, and had had her shipped to California to witness her brilliance himself.
He expected a lot of her. It was a long, grueling ocean voyage that was known to make even hardy seafarers wan and ill, never mind a landlubber thoroughbred.
When the fragile creature stepped off the gangplank in San Francisco in late 1851, along with her traveling companion, a gray gelding named Ito, she was unsteady, gaunt and sickly. Onlookers were not impressed.
This was Califorños’ first look at the thoroughbred who would raise the ante of the sport. Until then, horse racing was an everyday type of activity, little more than a pastime. The stakes were never very high: brandy, livestock and bits of money.
Sepulveda, who rode north from Los Angeles to meet the ship, quickly drummed up some competition for Ito to give Black Swan time to regain her strength. A few weeks after Ito's $5,000 win in a Bay Area race, Black Swan was ready.
This race, at San Francisco's Pioneer Jockey Club, next to Mission Dolores, matched Black Swan with Ito in one-mile heats for a $10,000 stake. Ito won. None of the histories records what became of Ito afterward; Black Swan stole the subsequent limelight.
Sepulveda saw magic in her running and rode ahead to prepare 3,500 Angelenos for Black Swan's arrival.
In the meantime, his trainer, the Yankee cowboy Bill Brady, took his time riding Black Swan the 400 miles south. Communicating with his gentle touch instead of force, Brady took her over winding paths, carefully avoiding sharp stones and other hazards that might injure her.
As he waited, Sepulveda hatched a plan that turned into a bonanza. His purse was still fattening with the enormous profits he began reaping three years earlier, when the discovery of gold had driven up the price of beef, and he delighted in racing and gambling.
His fellow Califorños patriotically revered their noble Spanish steeds, and that's what Sepulveda was betting on.
He made sure that a crowd, among them Pico, was in Los Angeles when Brady rode into town on Black Swan. Seeing the mangy and emaciated mare only confirmed Pico's and his cronies' opinion that the majestic, cinnamon-colored Sarco was invincible.
Recklessly, Angelenos wagered their life savings on Sarco. Carrillo family members bet their last $400. The total bet in the $50,000 match race: $25,000 each in octagon-shaped gold slugs, in addition to 500 horses, 500 mares, 500 heifers, 500 calves and 500 sheep.
Sepulveda, Brady and Sepulveda's son-in-law, Tom Mott, had three months to condition Black Swan. While building up her weight, they exercised her with discretion, running her after dark when no one could see her.
Pico and his hard-core betting pals were confident that Sarco was the better horse and therefore needed no training--an unbeatable mount, powerful and ready for a race at any moment.
As the date--March 20, 1852--drew near, the excitement and the bets grew higher. The Avilas and Duartes, who were friends of Sepulveda, bet a "bottle of brandy, two broken horses and $5." For others just as low on cash, every animal imaginable--cattle, horses, goats, pigs, chickens--was fodder for a wager, along with land and furniture.
Families from as far away as San Francisco and San Diego arrived for the race, which began at what is now 7th and San Pedro streets.
The track extended 4 1/2 miles south to a wooden stake, where the horses and their riders turned around and headed back to the start.
Springtime mustard plants growing 10 feet tall lined the roadway, making it difficult to see. Bystanders stood in their wagons and climbed trees, gates and rooftops of the occasional house.
As the tension mounted, Sepulveda's wife, Francisca, arrived in her carriage, holding a fortune in gold coins. Unwrapping her handkerchief, she ostentatiously handed each of her servants and many bystanders a shiny $50 gold piece to bet on the race.
But the greatest secret of the event remained to be revealed. Who was going to ride Black Swan?
A gasp of astonishment went up when Black Swan appeared, no longer looking like a sickly nag, but sleek with a shiny blue-black mane. Mounted on her back, sitting in a lightweight English saddle, was a small black man, dressed in bright clothing with a small cap turned backward on his head. Atop Sarco sat a hefty Mexican youth in a heavy Western saddle.
"Caramba! A black jockey and a black horse," someone cried in Spanish. Indeed it was a scene the spectators had never witnessed before. The jockey's name is lost to history.
With so many animals made nervous by the crowds, the starter began the race not with a gunshot but with the cry of "Santiago!"
Sarco jumped out to an early lead, and all those betting on him breathed a sigh of relief. Many leaped to their own horses and followed, tearing through the mustard plants. But the fleet horses soon lost them, and the spectators headed back to watch the finish.
Frenzy gripped the crowd at the halfway mark when Black Swan pulled ahead. Sarco strained every muscle to keep up with the speedy little foreigner.
Nineteen minutes, 20 seconds from start to finish, Black Swan crossed the finish line five lengths ahead. She was bleeding from her nose and flanks from the spurs, and foaming from her mouth.
Racing fans stood around in stunned silence, as others broke down and cried. While Sarco tasted his first defeat, Black Swan, in her moment of triumph, wiped out entire family fortunes. The race contributed to the downfall of Pico, who lost $25,000 and who, more than four decades later, would die penniless.
Although Sepulveda refused ever to race her again, Black Swan's prowess threw eager Califorños into a scramble to import blooded horses. They recklessly traded their cattle and land for thoroughbreds, some of which were stolen by Indians as they were brought overland to California.
The first thoroughbred stallion to make the overland trek from Ohio to California was Belmont, in 1854. Although he never raced, he sired a great dynasty that became the premier stud horses of the Pacific Coast.
Very little was heard of Sarco again, but some historians believe that the outstanding trotters and pacers to later come out of California inherited his stamina and soundness.
Four years after the race, Sepulveda was captured on canvas astride his prized Black Swan. The painting hangs in the Bowers Museum in Santa Ana. (At the Los Angeles County Fair, a pair of stake races are named for Black Swan and Pio Pico.)
Less than a decade after the portrait was painted, Sepulveda was broke, in debt from exorbitant wagers on less successful sporting events, from cattle-killing drought and from attorney fees for clearing title to his land. In 1864, Sepulveda sold Rancho San Joaquin's nearly 50,000 acres to James Irvine Sr. and his partners for $18,000--far less than he had won in one day's race a dozen years before. [end]
By the way, y’all, Black Swan stepped on a rusty nail and died of lockjaw not long after, poor thing. She didn’t have any more luck than Juan Sepulveda or Pio Pico. Still, it’s an amazing story, it’s true, and it happened right here in SoCal.
I had to go up to NorCal for a bit with my friend Vince Devlahovich to look at some GIS software and such (they're using it to great effect at American River College) and of course, that kind of thing just seems to lead to winery tours and ghost towns.
And there was sort of a nice synchronicity about the whole thing because I'd been reading "Bad Company" by Joseph Henry Jackson. Now I was always under the impression that Rattlesnake Dick, notorious outlaw with a name that would cause any 5th grader in the world to fall out laughing hysterically (if it was translated correctly), ranked among "America's Dumbest Criminals" of the 1850s. Not so, says Jackson, who puts it down to misunderstandings and incompetent henchmen, and an admittedly poor set of team coordination skills.
So today I'm off to Auburn to find the grave of Rattlesnake Dick, and if, by some chance, I need to escape the rain in the alehouse, well than so be it.
Nothing more happened in which I had the slightest participation until the revolution against Micheltorena in 1844-5.
In the meantime [1843] I had moved to the place I now have at the Mission San Gabriel, called rancho San Isidro, and was Alcalde.
In Feb. 1845 I was sent for by the Juez de Paz Juan Sepúlveda (now living in San Pedro) of Los Angeles. I remember the words of his letter that if I did not present myself in Los Angeles by 10 o'clock on the day following the date, I was to be adjudged “traidor a la patria” [traitor to the country]. I went in there and asked the Judge what he wanted me for.
Just at this moment a fellow came and took my hat away, and then brought it back to me with a red ribbon around it. Then Mr. William Workman came out of the office to where I was standing, and asked me to what party I belonged. I answered, "To the party of myself." "Then," says he, "you are one of my soldiers." I told him I didn't see it, and he pointed at my hat, saying I had his ribbon on.
I didn't want to have anything to do with the revolution, but Workman took me against my will to Cahuenga. That night we passed in the house of Cahuenga, lying around, singing songs, eating and drinking. Next day went as far as the Alamos. There the Micheltorena forces fired cannon at us, but at a great distance. They kept up the firing the whole day, and we lost one horse whose head was shot off. That was the only casualty we had. The firing was returned. The enemy's balls were picked up and returned to him.
The next day came down about two miles to the east of Cahuenga, where the springs begin to rise in the river Los Angeles. We there were all the time under a bank. Our captain was William Workman, the Lieutenant, John Rowland. Don't remember who were the other officers.
Our company was of about 100 men. I can't remember the names of all, but among our number were: Daniel Sexton, P. Mace (American), James Beckwith (American mulatto), John Reed (American), Benjamin Davis Wilson, James Barton, the three brothers Callahan (American), John the Baker (Irish), Cooper (English)
When we wanted to shoot we had to lift our arms to shoot over the bank which was higher than our heads.
I know that there were negotiations between our Captain and the Captain of the foreign camp on the Micheltorena side, but what they were about I never knew, and very soon Micheltorena surrendered at Cahuenga, binding himself to leave the country with his officers and troops that he had brought from Mexico.
Those troops were a pack of thieves. Nothing could be left within reach of them that they didn't steal; shirts, cooking utensils and everything, and in many instances attempted to ravish women. It was understood that they were men taken out of the presidio on Lake Chapala, and of the jails, and many of the officers were no better or even worse than their men, for in many instances to screen their men they didn't hesitate to tell lies. Several of the soldiers would not hesitate to commit murder to possess themselves of articles of even trifling value.
One night I met in Los Angeles in the street where the Temple Bank now is, one of those fellows with a knife pointed at me who demanded my sarape in these words: “Daca mi sarape, hace tiempo que lo has usado, y estoy careciendo de él ." [Give me the sarape; you have had it a long time, and I need it.]
I pulled out a pistol and said to him, "Ven a cogerlo" [Come and get it], and he ran like a son of a gun, didn't stop to get the blanket.
Micheltorena, as I said, surrendered with his troops and went to San Pedro and embarked, and I went home the same evening. Pio Pico became Governor, and my old friend Jose´ Castro, Comandante General. Pico has also been always a good friend to me.
And that’s the end of that – for now.
Thanks to H. H. Bancroft for another informative list with some help from A Study of Anglo-American Settlers in Los Angeles County Previous to the Admission of California to the Union (1927) pps. 72-78. The following men are named by one witness or another as having served in this campaign As you will see there is nothing random about this list. Virtually everybody knew everybody else, mostly though New Mexico.
James Beckwourth (American mulatto - mountain man and a mamber of the Peg-leg Smith/Walkara gang)
James Barton (Lieutenant in California Battalion. Resident in Los Angeles)
Alexander Bell (American - Trader at Los Angeles, 1844-54)
Callaghan Brothers (One in charge of the San Buenaventura Mission; another had some petty position at San Pedro.
No record of a third).
Sain Carpenter (Doubtful record!)
Henry Dalton (English – eventually acquired Santa Anita and Azusa)
William Fallon
William Garner
Richard Laughlin (American from New Mexico. Carpenter in L.A., Vineyard owner.)
P Mace
“Santiago” James McKinley (Scottish, ex-whaler, occasional surgeon and merchant)
Nathaniel Pryor (American - Silversmith. Clockmaker. Otter hunter. Married a Sepulveda)
Alex Sales – (American from New Mexico - Hunter at L.A. Micheltorena campaign '45.)
Abel Stearns (American - Merchant. Politician, Trader, Property owner. Married a Bandini.)
Michael White (English – also of the Rowland-Workman Party)
Benjamin Davis Wilson (American – also of the Rowland-Workman Party)
William Workman (English – also of the Rowland-Workman Party)
John Rowland (American – also of the Rowland-Workman Party)
Cornelius Perry
John Reed (American – whether he was of the Rowland-Workman Party is debated)
Daniel Sexton (American – also of the Rowland-Workman Party)
William Smith
Jean Louis Vignes (French – winemaker, made first California sparkling wine)
Well, ok. Just because he wasn’t living there didn’t mean he forfeited everything. As long as there was no other claimant (and there wasn’t) then he got to keep the land. Not that he could do anything with it. Remember my “thing” about bad luck and good luck? Well, it seems like our boy, Michael White, is havin’ some bad luck, but maybe not. Maybe he’s lucky to be alive.
At any rate, he’s got another land grant, the San Ysidro Rancho, he’s got his family around him, and Peg-leg Smith ain’t nowhere in sight. Now, if you’re Raven Jake, that’s all you need, but some folks are harder to satisfy and it probably pissed him right off that other people came in and made a pile of money when he was there first. Just a little too far ahead of the curve...
Anyway, this mess got so litigious that he was probably lucky that he “just” risked his life over a not-so-great idea, while rich men got richer off the sweat of his brow. Good Lord, he put in a couple years of carpentry and nine months on the hill – but anyway, here’s the official story:
History Of San Bernardino And Riverside Counties By John Brown Jr, Editor for San Bernardino County and James Boyd, Editor for Riverside County with Selected Biography of Actors and Witnesses of the Period of Growth and Achievement volume I: The Western Historical Association, 1922 page 32
El Cajon De Muscupiabe Grant: A grant which caused much litigation in the courts for many years was that of El Cajon de Muscupiabe which was made in 1843 to Michael White, Miguel White, or Miguel Blanco as he was variously known, with the condition that he occupy the land in question consisting of one league and prevent the Indians from coming through the Cajon Pass to the coast country.
White, an Englishman, had come to the California Coast about 1817 and engaged in the coasting trade with the Sandwich Islands [Hawai’i] until 1828, in which year he took up his residence at Santa Barbara.
He located at Los Angeles in 1830 where he was married a year later, and first secured a grant to a valuable tract of land near San Gabriel Mission, of which his mother-in-law, the famous Eulalie Perez, was so long matron-in-charge, and later to the Muscupiabe grant.
For thirteen years White occupied this latter grant, but in 1856 sold a half-interest to Isabel Granger and Charles Crittenden, and the other half was sold in 1857 to Henry Hancock, a surveyor, who subsequently obtained the balance of the tract. The boundaries of this grant, like all other Mexican grants, were indefinite, and White, who although offered as much land as he chose to take in the Cajon Pass, had desired only one league at first, [and] took the precaution of having his grant changed from one of quantity to one of boundaries.
In 1867, Hancock, who then owned the grant and who was deputy United States surveyor, surveyed and located the grant of El Cajon de Muscupiabe, which now included nearly eight leagues of land, and the grant thus surveyed was confirmed and a patent issued by the Government in 1872. However, this patent was only given after a re- survey inasmuch as there was much dissatisfaction among the people of the locality and the question of its validity was so strongly agitated that in 1886 suit was commenced by the United States attorney to set aside the patent.
This, however, was denied and the original patent fully confirmed, although other suits have been instituted from time to time. While the title has remained unshaken and the purchasers who received their title through the Hancock survey are secure in their rights, there has been considerable other litigation this having to do with the water rights connected with the grant.
In 1877, a suit was begun by the settlers located within the boundaries of the grant against the large number of settlers in the valley below, who were using water from Lytle Creek - the grant occupants claiming the entire flow from this stream. The grant owner won their suit by decision of the Supreme Court in 1879, a decision which had an important bearing upon later irrigation litigation in that the supremacy of riparian rights against appropriation was established and that it decided that the statute of limitations is impotent when the land title is in question and held in abeyance by the United States Government.
This decision caused the organization of the Lytle Creek Water Company with a capital stock of $75,000 - the stockholders including nearly all of the water users. Of this company, an authority [H.D. Barrows] says its purpose was to unify the interest of appropriators on the stream and to fight the grant owners. These latter had the law on their side, but the settlers had the water and were holding and using it. An injunction was granted in favor of the grant owners, but was never enforced.
The conflict was a long and bitter one. In the meantime, the grant owners and others operating with them, quietly bought up the stock of the Lytle Creek Water Company until enough to control it was secured, and then sold out these rights to the Semi Tropic Land & Water Company with the riparian lands, which seems to have quieted the conflict. This practically ended the litigation concerning Muscupiabe grant.
My goodness, no wonder he didn’t want to talk about it. If y’all are into land grants and water rights, Glen Dawson’s notes give these references: In 1853 claim was made to the United States Land Commission, White to receive half the land and the attorney the other half. White sold his half in 1859 to Henry Hancock. The boundaries were stretched from the original one league to five leagues and not until 1889 was the matter finally settled. Because this land slipped through White's hands probably added to his bitterness in later life. (Beattie, Heritage of the Valley , 90, 92-93.) (See also "Rancheria Amuscopiabit" by Gerald A. Smith in the Masterkey , July-August, 1953.) An account of White's killing Chief Coyote in Cajon Pass is found in Guinn, A History of California and an Extended History of its Southern Coast Counties , Los Angeles, 1907. Vol. II, p. 2148. The Rancho Muscupiabe plat is filed in the San Bernardino Recorder's office in connection with the certification of title by the U.S. Land Office (U.S. Survey July 11, 1868), page 24. The accompanying pages give the court decisions validating the title.
Here’s another bit of news, when Benjamin Wilson was Justice of the Peace and assistant for Indian affairs in Riverside County just a couple years later in 1845, he was also commissioned to track down Walkara and his marauders and bring them to justice. Their mission was interrupted by the discovery of the Big Bear Lake area and no additional story of the pursuit was ever given. Hmm, imagine that. He got sent out to bring a gang of organized criminals to justice and turned it into a hunting trip. Guess guarding the pass ain’t that easy after all.
And the location really was excellent: year-round spring, nice place in the mountains, friendly locals. Best of all, the opening of the new superhighway meant that everybody had to go past Michael White’s place.
It was an impossible situation. The “hook in the meat” as it were was that Michael White was supposed to drive off cattle rustlers and horse thieves. He was supposed to have help. Help didn’t come in time.
From the 1830s to the 1850s California ranches were hit with a huge wave of rustling, conducted mainly by Indians. Secularizing the missions meant that huge numbers of California natives were displaced. In fact, Governor Alvarado wanted to put a stop to the New Mexico caravans in 1839. While exporting horses and beef made sense for the state’s economy, importing beautiful Indian blankets did not. He suggested importing looms and putting California’s Indians to work. Nothing came of the suggestion and he dropped it.
More than California Indians though, “desert Indians” were behind much of the raiding. Mojaves from Arizona, Paiutes from Nevada, and Utes under the direction of the notorious Walkara conducted regular raids in Southern California.
Here’s a little overview of the situation:
After the missions were secularized in 1833, American thieves or “Chaguanos “as they were called, began stealing Californian horses. Of special interest is a trapper/mountain-man/horse thief named Thomas (Peg-leg) Smith and his brother-in-law, Ute chief Wakara, who stole over 5000 horses and drove them up the Old Spanish Trail to be sold at Fort Bridger, Fort Bent and Saint Louis.
In 1842, Peg-leg took his six Ute wives and a band of some 500 horses to an island in the Bear River near present day Montpelier, Idaho where he set up a trading post to sell horses to the emigrants traveling the Oregon Trail. Initially he traded horses at Fort Bridger and Fort Hall for the supplies he needed. He took at least two bands of horses up the Oregon Trail and peddled them at every settlement along the way to the Willamette Valley.
News of the discovery of gold prompted Peg-leg to organize another horse stealing raid. He, some “renegade” white men and some “renegade” Indians stole a large herd of horses of which Peg-leg reportedly took some 2500 head to Fort Smith, sent freight wagons to Saint Louis and Salt Lake, and amassed a small fortune selling Spanish horses and supplies to the Gold-seekers headed for California.
Peg-leg Smith [October 10, 1801–1866] was one of the biggest scum bags that ever lived, although you have to give him some points (not many) just for audacity. Here’s a little background on him: “By 1840, with the decline of the fur trade, Smith began kidnapping Native American children to sell as peons to Mexican haciendas. When the local tribes began searching for him, Smith fled to California, where he would become a horse thief for the next decade.”
He was tremendously successful. His brother-in-law, Chief Colorow Ignacio Ouray Walkara was also a real piece of work. Undoubtedly he was the brains of the outfit, and he spoke Spanish and English as well as a variety of tribal dialects.
After the 1829 opening of the Old Spanish Trail, Ute leaders regularly stopped the caravans and demanded tribute for crossing Ute lands. Wakara formed an alliance with mountain men Thomas "Pegleg" Smith and James Beckworth and began regularly raiding for horses from settlements at both ends of the trail, in New Mexico and California. By 1837, Wakara and his followers were getting wealthy through tribute and trade, and Wakara was becoming legendary, often reported in several places at the same time.
In California, Walkara was known as a great horse thief, primarily due to an 1840 campaign through the Cajon Pass into Southern California which resulted in the capture of a large number of horses mainly from the Spaniards, with estimates ranging from several hundred to 3,000 horses. In some of these raids, the band fought Cahuilla leader Juan Antonio. Mountain men James Beckwourth and Thomas "Pegleg" Smith were involved in this campaign and were known to trade with Walkara, providing the band with whiskey in return for horses.
Alright, so what were these poor ranchers going to do? Answer: bring in Michael White to stop them.
Lugo had been trying to get a human shield going, and the other gringos he offered the job to, Pauline Weaver (originally from Louisiana, a half-Cherokee guide and mountain man famous in Arizona history) and Daniel Sexton (who was also in the Rowland-Workman Party), declined the offer. Each of them knew that a man by himself was as good as dead. You needed an army to fight an army, and they didn’t have it.
Neither did Miguel Blanco, but he was more optimistic. According two his statement, he had repossessed stolen horses from raiding parties on two occasions and he felt up to the job. The map for his grant application was prepared by Juan Bandini. Tiburcio Tapia agreed to provide him with supplies in exchange for living on the grant, and it is possible that Antonio Lugo helped out too.
White, with Indian labor, built a strong fort of logs and earth on the piedmont between Devil and Cable canyons, overlooking Cajon Pass and the Mojave trail. The land later became a vineyard. At the time, Benjamin Wilson was working an arrangement with Bandini to populate the area with New Mexican settlers, the better to strengthen the “human shield” between the pass and his own ranch.
In a later statement White made in court, he testified that in 1843, he worked carpentering for Johnson at the Robidoux Ranch [Louis Robidoux, originally from Missouri later from Santa Fe, who bought the Jurupa Ranch in 1843] at the time of building houses on the ranch for Wison and Johnson. The [Lorenzo] Trujillos were living on the Donation [Lugo’s donation] and had fences around their corn patches…” The judge was trying to tangle out the mess of ownership and occupation and determined that White was correct, but off by a year – 1842 instead, which seems reasonable.
Michael White did not have any idea of how bad things would get. He brought his family out and six weeks later sent them back. He only lasted nine months and was in constant fear for his life. Raiders stole all of his livestock. He was wiped out and went to go live in San Marino, where his adobe still stands.
Michael Whit's place was just south of the X
Well, so far so good, but Michael White’s fortunes are going to begin to go south. It’s pretty telling that at no point in California All the Way Back to 1828, does he mention that he held the El Cajon de Muscupiabe grant, which was awarded to him in 1843. It must have been a sore point with him.
Things are about to go very wrong for the Californios. Indians throughout Southern California were hit with a huge smallpox epidemic in 1840, and they were dying in the order of thousands. The Spanish trail had just opened and thousands of Yankees were streaming in-and many of them were unsavory characters; horse thieves and cattle rustlers. The small Mexican political skirmishes are about to be replaced with real wars, but the biggest war that they were about to lose is a cultural war.
We will be getting to the gold rush and Joaquin Murrieta in a bit – but the conditions that led to those dramas were set up with the opening of the Cajon Pass, the Spanish Trail leading straight past the San Gabriel Mission into Los Angeles.
White, as we’ve read, struck up an acquaintance with Hipólito Espinosa and stayed at his place, Politana, before leaving with Tomás Salazar for Santa Fe. We’ve also learned that White regarded Salazar as a murdering psychopath with no regard for human life. Although he didn’t say it, there’s an implication that he was disappointed in the trip.
We also found out that he was a member of the Lugo colony, but we don’t know more about it that that. The Whites were prolific breeders, although quite in step with the style of the time. At this point, they have been married for 10 years, Michael is gone most of the time and Rosario is – where? We don’t know. She might be in Compton, or near the mission or even in San Bernardino with the Lugos, but California All the Way Back to 1828 doesn’t tell us how she is managing alone with the kids while he’s off making a living.
So we’re just going to have to piece together what evidence there is.
On June 21, 1842, Rancho San Bernardino was granted to Antonio Maria Lugo, his sons and his nephews, who grazed approximately 4000-6000 cattle in the area. The grant included a large part of the San Bernardino valley, 37,700 acres (153 km2) in all.
Lugo's adobe would later become Amasa M. Lyman's house. His brother repaired the Estancia and lived there. A community that grew up astride the Santa Ana River northeast of current-day Redlands would be known as Lugonia. It lost its identity with the November 1888 incorporation of Redlands.
In 1843, Michael White (also known in Spanish as Miguel Blanco), a Mexican citizen of English origin, was granted Rancho Muscupiabe, named after the Serrano village Amuscupiabit or "place of little pines."
Now according to Gerald Smith’s article for the Masterkey, “Rancho Amuscupiabit,” the Cajon pass has been used by Native Americans for a long time, but how long is open to debate. Maybe as long ago as the Pinto culture, maybe as recently as the Serranos, but it’s the only way to get from the desert into the basin and Amuscupiabit has a year-round spring.
You know how they say “you are on Indian land?” Well, folks, if you’re anywhere in the USA, a Native American got there first. The Serranos had a lot of problems, but Michael White wasn’t one of them. Michael White had a lot of problems, but it wasn’t the Serranos.
The Spanish discovered the pass in the 1770s – it was an established tribal trading route by then, the Mojave Trail, but there wasn’t much to be done about it. In 1806, Fr. Jose Maria Zalvidea, Michael White’s favorite priest, spent some time there evangelizing. Surely they must have spent some time discussing the possibilities of such an excellent location.
Y'all might recall that I offered a research challenge to the Michael White descendents to start lookin' around in their attics for the missing portrait of Maria del Rosario Gullien de White, but I think I mighta beat 'em to it. Funny ol' painting there in the wall ain't it? The caption on the newsclipping says it was Florinda, Miguel's granddaughter seated there on the right as a youngster, but was it? or was it Rosario? Anyway, a big shout out to Denise Dobbs, the archivist at the San Marino Public Library for her help, and I'm rescinding the old challenge and issuing a new one: Who's the lady in the portrait and who has it now?
Here’s the official line from the Old Spanish Trail website. Now bear in mind that although the Spanish Trail had been in use for a long time, the Santa Fe-to-Los Angeles portion was brand new:
In late 1841, the Rowland-Workman expedition was the first group consisting largely of emigrants to enter California from an eastern-based land route by traveling on the Old Spanish Trail. While its co-leaders John Rowland and William Workman settled on the La Puente rancho and became well-known southern California residents, there were others in the group who also became prominent, including Lorenzo Trujillo, founder of the Agua Mansa settlement near present Riverside; Benjamin D. Wilson, politician, rancher and agriculturist in the western San Gabriel Valley; William Knight, whose Knight’s Ferry and Knight’s Landing are place names in the gold country of the Sierras; and Manuel Vaca, for whom Vacaville, near San Francisco, is named. The Old Spanish Trail Association, based in Colorado, is leading efforts to have the National Park Service recognize the trail as a National Historic Trail.
It bears noting that Rowland and Workman had made themselves very unpopular with the New Mexican authorities by supporting the American invasion of Texas and the call for Texan Independence. They were accused, rightly or not, of treason, and had to get out of town fast.
Here are the real heavy hitters from this group of immigrants:
John Albert Rowland (April 15, 1791–October 13, 1873) was born in Maryland. Rowland, a surveyor, moved to Fernandez de Taos, New Mexico, then a province of Mexico, and become a fur trapper. In 1825, Rowland became a Mexican citizen and married María Encarnación Martínez. In Taos, Rowland established a friendship with William Workman which developed into a business partnership. William Workman and John Rowland were seeking to escape accusations as traitors by Governor Manuel Armijo of New Mexico.
On September 6, 1841, some 25 immigrants joined the group and left Abiquiú, New Mexico, north of Santa Fe. Because of the size of the caravan, they did not suffer from attack from hostile Indians. Due to desert conditions the trip was made in the fall when there was feed for the animals to graze on, as well as water-holes along the trail. The Workman-Rowland Party arrived in Southern California, on November 5, 1841.
In 1842, Rowland received a preliminary grant, in his name only, of 11,740-acre (48 km2) to Rancho La Puente. However, in 1845, the grant was extended to 48,790-acre (197 km2) and made permanent in both Rowland and Workman's name. In 1851, they decided to split their property, with Rowland taking about 29,000-acre (117 km2) on the east and Workman receiving the 20,000-acre (81 km2) on the west. Their land division was officially sanctioned in 1867.
William ('Don Julian') Workman (November 17, 1799–May 17, 1876) was born in Westmorland, England, and emigrated to the United States in 1816. He lived in Missouri, then Fernandez de Taos, in a province of Mexico that later became New Mexico. He ran a general store at Taos. He married Maria Nicolasa Uriarte (April 19, 1802–February 4, 1892). He and Nicolasa had two children, Antonia Margarita Workman and Joseph Manuel Workman.
In 1841, they removed to Southern California. William Workman and John A. Rowland organized the first wagon train of permanent Eastern settlers. The Workman-Rowland Party, which was headed by William Workman arrived in Southern California, on November 5, 1841. Workman and Rowland purchased the 48,790-acre (197 km2) Rancho La Puente, out of a portion of which was later carved the city of La Puente. Workman developed a portion of the rancho and began building a home on the property in 1842. In 1850, Workman purchased Rancho La Merced.
Benjamin Davis Wilson (December 1, 1811 - March 11, 1878) was a California statesman and politician. He was known to the Native Americans as Don Benito because of his benevolent manner in his treatment of Indian affairs. Wilson, a native of Tennessee, was a fur trapper and trader before coming to California.
Detained in Southern California while attempting to obtain passage to China, Wilson decided to remain there. He married Ramona Yorba, daughter of Bernardo Yorba, a wealthy and prominent landowner, and purchased part of Rancho Jurupa in what would become Riverside County. Wilson was made Justice of the Peace for the Inland Territory and was entrusted with the care of Indian affairs. He was also commissioned to deal with the hostile Ute tribe over their cattle rustling and other crimes against the ranchers.
Wilson became the first non-Hispanic owner of Rancho San Pascual, which encompassed today's towns of Pasadena, Altadena, South Pasadena, Alhambra, San Marino and San Gabriel. Wilson was the second elected Mayor of Los Angeles for one term, Los Angeles County Supervisor and served three terms as a California State Senator.
Wilson lived out his days in present-day San Gabriel. He gave several acres of property to his son-in-law James de Barth Shorb which he named San Marino. Other parts developed as Alhambra. Wilson's first wife died in 1849, after which time he married the widow Margaret Hereford. They would have four children of which one daughter Ruth would marry George Patton, Sr. and have a son who would become the WWII General George S. Patton, Jr. The Pattons would later purchase Lake Vineyard. Wilson died at the ranch in 1878 and was buried in San Gabriel Cemetery. The last of his land holdings in the downtown Pasadena area were bequeathed to Central School on South Fair Oaks Avenue.
Mount Wilson, a Metromedia center for the greater Los Angeles area, is the most famous monument to Benjamin Wilson. Wilson Avenue in Pasadena and Don Benito School of the Pasadena Unified School District also honor his name.
OK, well, so far so good. Now notice that Michael White’s estimate of around 100 settlers got downgraded to 23 on the list. That is because women, children and Indians didn’t count, at least as far as the Mexican authorities were concerned. They also weren’t concerned with folks who were born Mexican, like Manuel Vaca and Lorenzo Trujillo, but foreigners and naturalized citizens had to be accounted for.
Now, most of the people in the Rowland-Workman party did not die rich and famous. Looking over my list of the 18 or so "losers" just made me kinda tired, so I won't subject y'all to it right now. BUT - these three guys keep coming up, so you need to know the players.
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