Raven Jake Dawes

Map of L.A. County's Adobes

Sometimes making a map can help you visualize the interconnectedness of stuff. Like the remaining adobe buildings in LA County and which ones are private residences, which ones are open to the public, and where they are. The Michael White Adobe (Casa Miguel Blanco) is the red one, the missions are yellow, the ones that are available to the public at least some of the time are green, and all the others are blue.

View Los Angeles Adobes in a larger map

Map of LA County's Adobes

 

The Reed Family Murders at Mission San Miguel

Folks, a couple of posts down when Michael White was talking about his stagecoach journey, he was more than a little bit jumpy about highway men and the murder of the Reed family. After reading this, I can sure see why. If you thought brutal mass murders started with the Manson Family, you'd be wrong, and here's Wally Ohles to say more about it:

 

In his history of San Miguel, “ The Lands of Mission San Miguel“, author Wally Ohles lays out the historical facts of the brutal Reed Family murders at The Old Mission. No one has lived in the Old Mission rooms for many years now

As you might expect, the murders and stories of buried gold at the Old Mission have given rise to some colorful local legends, one of which is recounted at the end of this history... read it if you dare!

The Murders in the Old Mission
by Wally Ohles, Author and Historian

On the afternoon of December 4, 1848, five "white" men and one Indian arrived at Mission San Miguel, where [William] Reed and his family were living. Petronilo and his partner, William Reed, had obtained the Mission on July 4, 1846. Reed had recently returned from delivering sheep to his father-in-law; General Mariano G. Vallejo, for resale to the gold-miners of northern California.

The group which arrived on December 4th consisted of the following: Pete Raymond, a desperado who had killed a man by the name of J. R. Pfister at Murphy's Camp, but had escaped from jail, Joseph Peter Lynch, who had deserted from General Kearney's command at Fort Leavenworth, Peter Remer, who had belonged to the New York Volunteers in 1847, and Peter Quin, an Irishman who had just come to California.

These last two people were deserters from the warship Warren. The final member of the group was Sam Bernard (or Barnberry), accompanied by John, an Indian from Soledad. Lynch and Raymond had murdered two companions while on the way from the gold fields to Soledad.

At the mission, these men sold 30 ounces of gold to Reed for $30 per ounce; they stayed there that night, and left the next morning. They went as far as San Marcos Creek, and then returned to the Mission and spent the rest of the day and part of the evening. (Some accounts have it that the group went as far south as Rancho Santa Margarita, before returning to San Miguel.)

During the evening of December 5th, they murdered everyone at the Mission. The victims included: WIlliam Reed; his wife, Maria Antonia Vallejo, who was expecting a baby; their 4-year old son; a brother- in-law; Jose Ramon Vallejo; the mid-wife, Josefa Olivera; the 15-year old daughter and the grandson of Martin Olivera; a Negro cook; an Indian sheep- herder and his grandchild. Eleven were killed in all, counting the unborn child.

The group had been warming themselves near the cooking fire, which was slowly dying. Sam Bernard (or Barnberry) offered to go outside to get some firewood. He returned with an axe hidden in the armload of wood, and struck Reed several blows with the axe; the Indian stabbed Reed with a knife. Reed was wearing his hat at the time he was killed; he had several gashes on his nose. The women must not have gotten ready for bed, because when they were found, they were still wearing day-time clothing.

Ralph J. Leonard, a retired Lieutenant-Colonel of the U. S. Army; has done an in-depth study of the murder of the Reed family; In his work entitled The San Miguel Mission Murders, he gives the details of the incident from the record of the interrogations of Joseph Lynch, Peter Quin and of Peter Remer. Lynch and Quin signed their confessions; Peter Remer used a witnessed mark for his signature.

According to Lynch, Sam Bernard (or Barnberry) and the others went to Reed's rooms and killed the women and children, and then took the bodies to the carpenter's shop. After the killings, they went to Reed's room and drank some wine; then, using an axe, opened all the chests and rifled them of their contents, taking the money and valuables. About half an hour after the murders, they left the Mission that evening, and slept the rest of the night near the house at Rancho EI Paso de Robles, which was located approximately one mile south of the present-day town of Templeton.

Leon Gil, a grandson ofPetronilo Rios, later stated that the night after the murders, the killers "camped at my grandfather's place at Templeton, with the intention of killing him also, if necessary; in order to secure the gold which they had expected to get at Mr. Reed's. But on account of there being so many Indians about, they were afraid to attempt it. One of the Indians went over, as Indians are apt to do, to the men's camp after they left, and there picked up an earring, which he brought to Don Petronilo. He recognized it as one that he had often seen Mrs. Reed wearing.

[This statement must have been given no earlier than 1887, because the town of Templeton did not exist prior to that time, nor was that name used prior to the arival of the railroad.]

Catarina Avila Rios, in 1877, related that it was known that the murderers ate breakfast at Rancho El Paso de Robles, because of some cups that were found there by some Indian servants; they also found a new knife and a small box that contained some gold articles that belonged to the late Maria Antonia Reed.

The murderers spent the next night near a creek about two leagues south of Mission San Luis Obispo. [The Spanish league equaled 2.63 English miles.] At that point, the Indian left the group. It is possible that this location was the Corral de Piedra Rancho. (Leon Gil has said that years after the murders, Mariano Soberanes, of the Los Ojitos Rancho, visited at the Rios house in San Miguel. He chanced to see an old Indian who was working for Leon's Grandfather, Petronilo Rios. Soberanes recognized the Indian as the one who was with the group who murdered the Reed family.

The group then went to Rancho Los Alamos, and obtained four horses. Near Las Cruces, they spent the night. The next night was spent at Los Dos Pueblos. They passed Santa Barbara during the late evening of the next day, and camped about a mile from town. The following day, at about eleven o'clock in the morning, they stopped at Rancho Ortega, about five or six miles below Santa Barbara, and bought something to eat. They left about one o'clock and had gone no more than a mile when they were met by the posse.

Miss Ella Villa (VIllavicencio) related a story to Chris Jespersen, which he included in his county history book. Ella VIlla, the grand-daughter of Captain Jose Maria VIllavicencio, grantee of Corral de Piedra, related the story that Senora Villavicencio said that the desperados had stopped at their rancho. The Senora thought it strange that one of the men should be wearing "the conspicuous, blue, brass-buttoned coat of 'the pilot,' as Reed was called by his friends."

Meanwhile, on the evening of December 5th, James E Beckwourth was carrying the mail from Captain William Dana's Rancho at Nipomo to Monterey; He discovered the bodies, and rode with the news to the nearest ranch, that of Petronilo Rios, southeast of San Miguel, and probably five or six miles away. Beckwourth then continued his ride to Monterey.

There, he would deliver the mail and also inform the military governor, Colonel Richard B. Mason, of the murders.

It should be noted that at the time of the murders Petronilo Rios must not have been living at the Caledonia adobe, which is located one-half mile south of the Mission; he was living at La Estrella. One reason for making this deduction is that the distance five or six miles is not far enough to refer to the Ranch EI Paso de Robles, located south of Templeton, all owned by Rios. This site is approximately fourteen miles from Mission San Miguel. Petronilo Rios and his family must have been living at the adobe on the Estrella River, southeast of San Miguel, and a distance of approximately six miles.

On December 6th, John M. Price, alcalde of San Luis Obispo, also discovered the bodies at Mission San Miguel. (An alcalde was an office which was a combination of mayor and justice of the peace.) On the 7th of December, Price signed a document as Jusgado of San Luis Obispo, and designated Trifon Garcia as his representative to take all measures necessary to apprehend the murderers. Trifon Garcia was a son of Ynocente Garcia, and the owner of Rancho Atascadero.

Petronilo Rios helped bury his partner, and the other victims of the crime, in the cemetery of Missio San Miguel. According to Eva C. Iversen, "Just outside the rear door of the sacristy; a little to the southwest and near the old first church wall, the bodies of the slain were all buried in one grave."

According to Catarina Avila Rios, her husband "returned to bury the family; consequently he ordered two tombs opened in which they were all buried gathering all of the remains that had been left." Thomas Savage provides this quote from the Recuerdos of Mrs. Rios, which were furnished to Vicente P Gomez on June 20, 1877, in Santa Clara.

The action taken by citizens of Santa Barbara commenced on December 10, 1848, when Cesario Latillade requested the formation of a posse. This became a 37- member semi-vigilante group which caught up with the murderers on the crown of Ortega Hill, overlooking the present town of Summerland. Cesario Latillade was the vice-consul of Spain at Monterey since 1847, and was allowed to reside at Santa Barbara. He accidentally shot and killed himself at Santa Barbara in 1849.

Sam Bernard (or Barnberry) was mortally wounded by Ramon Rodriguez, who was, in turn, killed by a bullet from that bandit's gun. Pete Raymond jumped into the surf, in an attempt to escape, and was drowned. Peter Quin was wounded and captured; Joseph Lynch and Peter Remer were also captured, and later gave their confessions.

A temporary court sentenced the murderers to be hanged. From the time of the Mexican surrender in January of 1847 until statehood in September of 1850, California was a military territory of the United States. Mexican Santa Barbara had some question about the authority of the temporary court, so its findings were presented to Colonel Mason in Monterey; His response was to send Lieutenant Edward O. C. Ord, of the Third Artillery; and nine soldiers to Santa Barbara as a firing squad.

Joseph Lynch, Peter Remer and Peter Quin were executed by fIring squad, in Santa Barbara, on December 28, 1848, near the corner of De la Guerra and Chapala Streets. They were buried in the cemetery of Mission Santa Barbara.

The Santa Barbara historian, Walker A Tompkins, in a November 28, 1963 letter to the San Miguel Banner, states that "The executed men received the last rites of the Church and were buried in the campo santo at Santa Barbara Mission." (Hubert Howe Bancroft believed that Peter Remer and Peter Raymond were the same person.)

An inventory of gold dust and silver seized from the prisoners lists the following: a stocking containing 80 pesos in silver; another stocking with 82 pesos T in silver; a kerchief containing 100 pesos 2 reales in silver and one ounce of gold; another kerchief containing one gram of gold and a paper with 7 pesos 5 reales in silver.

Petronilo Rios, William Reed's partner, sent word to Pablo de la Guerra that all recovered money should be given to the widow of the man in the posse who was killed by the murderers. This item of information came from the interview; already mentioned, that was given by Catarina Avila Rios, in 1877. This interview was by Vincent E Gomez, who was collecting historical information for Hubert Howe Bancroft. The Lands of Mission San Miguel
by Wallace V. Ohles
Copyright © 1997 The Friends of the Adobes, Inc. All rights Reserved,

A copy of this book may be obtained from the Mission Gift Shop (805) 467 3256.

 

Gypsy Camp IV

Gypsy Camp !V

Flip Cassidy

Folks, it's always nice to get out and hear some live music, so Saturday we went down to the Theater of Work warehouse  under the 6th street bridge for a nice do-it-yourself music festival. Gypsy Camp IV, organized by promoter extraordinaire Flip Cassidy was originally supposed to be held in El Escorpian Park, but the forecast of rain made a change of venue necessary. All for the best, I say. Flip got quite a line-up going: We got

Delta, the Troubadour

there just as Kristi Michele was finishing up her set and our friend Chris Caplan, aka Delta, the Troubadour, was going on. Some

The Pirates Charles

terrific acts followed including accordionist Mark Growden (no really, you've got to see him) and my new favorite pirate band, the Pirates Charles. More Gypsy Camps are coming up as the weather gets warmer, so I'll keep y' all apprised.

 

Raven Jake at Gypsy Camp IV

 

 

Mark Growden

Michael White and the First Yankee Wagon in San Gabriel

4 mule wagon

Apparently losing $5,000 was a blow, but it didn't clean Michael White out entirely, because most of the money was held for safekeeping by relatives and not people like Fair and Stockton. Now he's got a new challenge: to make it back to Rancho San Ysidro without being murdered or robbed, and that ain't easy. At the Mission, they used cartas, big two-wheeled ox carts, to move stuff from place to place. Apparently Michael White's new-fangled wagon (although he bought it used) was cutting-edge in San Gabriel.�It's 1849, he's 48 years old and just hit it pretty big-time after about a year-and-a-half in the gold fields up north.�

So here he goes again:

A man who owed me $600 brought them from the mines to me at Stockton. With that money I bought a wagon and two mules, with harness for four mules. After giving the mules some rest at French camp came down to Santa Clara and got from my brother-in-law, Isidoro Guillen, some $3000 that I had left with him and went to San José where there was an auction of dry goods, and bought enough goods for $1000 as loaded my wagon chock full--then I hitched on my two mules, and two more that I had procured since, put a boy on one of the leaders and I began to drive.

This was an entirely new thing to me for I had never driven even one mule. We were on the road 20 days to San Gabriel. That was the first wagon that ever was seen in San Gabriel, and every one thought it was an excellent thing. It had a painted tent on it. The wagon was an old affair that had come across the prairies from the other side of the Rocky Mountains. I managed to capsize it three or four times on the road.

When we got to Soledad, two English-speaking men who said they were Americans, came to me and asked where I was going. I answered that I was coming down, and they said they were also coming down to Santa Barbara. I replied that they could travel much faster than I. They were on good horses and I didn't know how they got them. They were rough, suspicious-looking men, and I was afraid of them. The roads were, at the time, full of robbers and murderers. The Reed family had been murdered but a short time before by some tramps in the Mission of San Miguel.

I stopped to get dinner at La Soledad and then went on to the Rancho Bernadal. There was an adobe house there. The two fellows came out to me again. I had a case of brandy in the wagon, and said to myself that I must manage to find out what those fellows were. I got a case bottleful and gave them to drink.

In two minutes they were fast asleep and snoring, but I believed they were only feigning sleep, and kept a sharp watch. I did not sleep a wink that night. In the morning cooked breakfast, invited the fellows to partake of it and gave them another dram and told them I was going only as far as the next ranch where I intended stopping three or four days to rest my mules. Sometimes a man is more scared than hurt and such was my case.

I stopped at that ranch 24 hours, thinking that they would be far off by the time I started, but I overtook them about a mile before reaching San Miguel. I was not then afraid of them, as the road was full of emigrants from the East, and I would meet some every hour or so.

I was pestered on the road by many to tell where the best places for digging were, and I invariably answered, "Where you find the gold, Sir." It was the best answer I could give them, adding that I might find a place that was very rich, and another come and work alongside of me and find no gold, and then he would curse me if I had induced him to come there.

Finally got down as far down as Santa Rosa ranch, close by Santa Inez mission. The old Sergeant [possibly Macedonio Gonzalez] that owned the place got angry with me because I did not call him Uncle. He was a son of Eulalia's sister. He welcomed me and my servant boys, but would not allow the two fellows that had attached themselves to me to go into the house. “Tienen mala cara tus amigos, Sobrino, tienen mala cara” [your friends have evil countenances, Nephew], said the old Sergeant. I assured him they were no friends of mine, but had not been able to get rid of them. Started from there two days after, and went on top of the mountains and camped in the night. The two fellows still stuck to me, for they had nothing to live on but what I gave or procured for them.

Next day got to the mouth of the Gaviota and camped there. Next day at about 3 p.m. got to the Arroyo Hondo ranch of the Ortegas, from there to the cañon of the Ortega ranch where the trail goes over the mountain. There one of the two men lost his horse. I told them I would go very slowly that they might overtake me, but as soon as I lost sight of them, I put whip to the mules, and the road being pretty level and hard, I placed a large distance between us. I never saw them afterwards. I got into Santa Barbara that evening. Three or four days after, traveling slowly, I reached home.

View Michael White Wagon Route 1849 in a larger map

Michael White's Wagon Route 1849

Mrs Laura Fair, San Francisco Murderess

Lillian Fair (Laura's Daughter)

Mrs Fair vs Mr Crittenden

I couldn't get this article to embed correctly, but it is a hoot and a half:

THE SAN FRANCISCO TRAGEDY :Shooting of Judge Crittenden by Mrs. Fair--Further Particulars--Antecedents of the Murderess-She Affects Insanity.. (1870, November 13). New York Times (1857-1922),p. 3.  Retrieved February 9, 2010, from ProQuest Historical Newspapers The New York Times (1851 - 2006). (Document ID: 83478201).

The most surprising thing about it was the verdict: after plugging Mr Crittenden and being found guilty, this nut got acquitted with the words "Mrs Laura Fair is a very remarkable woman - very remarkable people are becoming scarce, therefore it would be a pity to hang Mrs. Fair."

This site gives a blow-by-blow of both trials. If you thought wacky celebrity show trials started with Geraldo Rivera-style reporting, think again. http://yesteryearsnews.wordpress.com/2009/07/13/murderess-laura-d-fair/

Associating with people like this cannot have raised Michael White's estimation of Americans. Here's the crazy wife of the lawyer who ripped him off in 1849, who shoots her lover in 1871 - and that guy is the person White sold half his land grant to in 1853. What a bizarre six-degrees-of-separation to be party to! And here's another mystery: most newspaper accounts list Mrs Fair's victim as "A.P. Crittenden," not "Charles Crittenden." Do we have another case of mistaken identity, or just a nickname?

 

Michael White on the Gold Rush 1848-1849

When the discovery of the gold placers I started for Mokelumne, was taken sick there and did nothing. Mounted my horse and with only about $200 worth of gold that I got for some horses which I had sold, came away. Suffered terribly on the way, and finally reached the house of my brother-in-law, Isidoro Guillen, in Santa Clara.

�

On my way I was the recipient of much kindness from Mrs. Robert Livermore, the wife of him after whom the town of Livermore was named. She was a native of California of the Sanchez family of San José. I believe she was a daughter of the old Alférez [Ensign, or Second Lieutenant] José Sanchez. She would receive no pay, but I left her, quite against her will, one little chunk of gold weighing 5 ½ ounces that I had picked up on the Stanislaus.

�

Note: This was Josefa Higuera, wife of Robert Livermore who owned the Pozitos Rancho, now Livermore Valley―and the Canada de Los Vaqueros on the road from San Jose to Sacramento. It was undoubtedly at the latter place that White received Mrs. Livermore's care. The term Santa Clara at that time had a wider meaning than the immediate Mission community of that name. (Giffen.)

�

After recuperating my health at Santa Clara, went back to Stanislaus to Murphy's diggings. I worked there for myself some three weeks and dug out nearly $2000. The diggings were very rich. Some days I would get out 8 and 9 ounces. One day I found a chunk weighing 7 ½� ounces. That day got over one pound of gold.

There was a cooper that had been paid off from the U.S. sloop of war, St. Mary's. His name was Edward. He had a tent and invited me to stay with him, each one cooking his own food, and working for himself. I generally got up very early, cooked my own and his breakfast, went to my work, and sometime after he would come to work alongside of me. He was a very good man.

One morning I went to my work and saw several Spaniards on the bank watching if I was picking up any gold. I did not give out to them that I understood Spanish, and did not want to speak to Ned, for the reason that I had my mouth full of gold. I used to put all the gold I picked up in a day into a small soda can, but not wishing to make any rattling, whenever I picked up a chispa [small particle] I would put it in my mouth.

Most of the gold was of the size and form of musk melon seed. It was very dangerous to let any one see what was picked up. It was that morning I got the 7 ½ ounce piece. Ned spoke and said, "Chummy, how are you getting along?" I returned no answer, then he picked up and threw at me what he thought was dirt. It struck me on the back. The dirt fell off and I found it contained a piece of gold of 2 ½ �ounces.

The Spaniards went away and I showed Ned what I had, and he said, "Damn you, you always have good luck. I can get no luck at all." I answered him, "How can you have any luck if you heave it away?" He said that he had not hove away anything, and then I showed him the piece of gold he had thrown at me. He looked at it, and pronounced it only a piece of rock. I then put it in my pocket. He could not work for some time and kept growling, and I laughing at him. Finally, he wanted me to let him see it again. We had more chaffing. At last I gave it to him with the advice never to heave gold again at my head, for if he did I would keep it.

He was highly pleased and went to work like a negro. Next he begged me to let him have the 7 ½ �ounce piece and I let him have it for a like amount in fine gold. I would have done anything for that man and I think he would have done the same for me. A good natured fellow from Massachusetts, about 6 feet in height, raw boned. There was no vulgar way about him, and it was evident that he had been well brought up by his parents, or whoever had the care of him in early life.

Time out, y’all. Sure, “works like a negro” is a pretty racist this to say, which isn’t surprising because this incident took place in 1848, before abolition, and was reported in 1877, a less enlightened time. The thing I think that’s kind of funny here is that “work like a negro” meant “hard-working and industrious” and then White went on to say what a great guy Ned was and how well brought up. Contextually, “working like a negro” is a real compliment, and something we all should to aspire to, regardless of race.

A few days after I left him there with an Irishman that I had hired to wash the dirt, for I had never thought of washing any dirt myself. All the gold I got was picked in crevices of the bed rock.

I came down to San Francisco one or two days before Christmas, 1848. Came away in February 1849. It was snowing and raining and blowing nearly the whole time I was there. I had taken passage on a Colombian Brig to San Pedro, and every morning that we lied in San Francisco, we had to clear the decks of snow in the morning. Oakland was as white as a sheet.

Stayed at home till the middle of April, and then started to go back to the same diggings. When I got to Stockton met my Irishman and asked him about Ned, and he told me that Ned got out 25 pounds of gold out of the dirt I had hove out, and as I couldn't wash out any dirt for want of water, when the rains came on, he washed, got the gold and left for home. I asked the Irishman if Ned had paid him, and he said yes .

I went on the Mokelumne hill again. There I got a little over $5000 in gold in about three weeks, and took the gold to Stockton, where I deposited it with William Stockton. He was a New York rough who had belonged to Col. Stevenson's Regiment. Went back to work on the Calaveras, got about $3000 more, and the weather being insufferably hot, I came down again and as far as San Francisco.

[Now improbable as it is that Michael White knew someone in the town of Stockton (which was named by founder Charles Weber to honor Commodore Robert F. Stockton, who White was already familiar with) it does appear to be the case that he deposited his money with William B. Stockton [1809-1864], a member of Co. F, New York Volunteers, who came to California in 1847. The mystery goes a little deeper: The Stockton family papers in the Manuscripts Division, Department of Rare Books and Special Collections, Princeton University Library has an intriguing item, a deed of James Maugham to Robert F. Stockton & William B. Stockton for property in Glynn Co., Georgia dated December 9 1831. Did White trust this William B. Stockton because he was Robert Stockton’s brother?] �

Went to Stockton and couldn't get my money. Stockton had spent it. He had number of lots there and advised me to go and sue him and get a writ of attachment of the lots. I applied for the writ and the Judge wouldn't give it to me. The Judge wanted to bring me in as a common of Stockton's. I refused to submit to it as I was not such, but a mere depositor, which Stockton acknowledged, saying he had spent the money, thinking he could have the amount before I should call for it. I employed Lawyer [William] Fair (the husband of the woman that a few years ago killed Crittenden in San Francisco) to recover the money for me.

The agreement was that in case he recovered the whole, his fee was to be $800. I was left without anything. In the morning I was assured I should get my money in the evening, and in the evening that I would get it in the morning, and I never got it because Mr. Fair recovered the money and made away with it. I got a letter from him that he had collected the money and was sorry that he had spent it and possessed nothing to replace it with.

The story of the Fairs is a strange one indeed. The New York Times carried the story that Laura Fair, an “actress,” shot Judge Crittenden through the chest, in full view of his family, on November 4, 1870. It was her second attempt, motivated by the fact that he’d broken off their affair. As for her husband, lawyer William Fair, “through pecuniary embarrassment and domestic trouble, Mr. Fair became despondent in mind. In 1860, while on a visit to [San Francisco] he committed suicide by blowing his brains out at the office of Dr. Murphy on Washington Street in the building now known as the Examiner office.”

White also knew the victim. In 1856, he sold a half-interest in the El Cajon De Muscupiabe grant to Isabel Granger and Charles Crittenden. Odd, huh?

�

View Michael White in the Gold Rush 1848-49 in a larger map

Michael White in the Gold Rush 1848-49

�

Mokelumne Hill

 

Michael White is about to enter his "Gold Rush Period," and I gotta say a little bit about the what was going on socially, 'cause it was a real mess. The main concern, as far as the Michael White story goes, is that the war with Mexico didn't end with the Treaty of Guadalupe-Hidalgo, it became a cultural war against Californios that pretty much defined southern California through the 1850s.

 

The discovery of gold was arguably the worst thing that ever happened to California and even though it brought prosperity to some, it brought poverty to more. Shiftless scumbag criminals (and a few really nice guys) were pouring in from all over the world and there was no infrastructure to absorb everyone. A 50% tax was levied on all “foreign” miners (to be paid monthly) and “foreign” meant “not white,” because Irish criminals from Australia didn’t have to pay the tax, and Spaniards who were born in California did. Up to this point, most of these Californios considered themselves to be “white,” after all, their forefathers came from Spain, and distinct from “Indios,” who were the working class.

 

So there’s insult, and there’s injury, and there is also an unstoppable crime wave going on, which Michael White is about to see permeates all levels of society, from highwaymen to investment brokers. So his life didn’t go back to normal after the war, it just got worse. Some of his behavior seems kind of weird unless you understand the social context, so here’s a thumbnail on Mokelumne Hill, where he did most of his mining, courtesy of Wikipedia.

 

The town takes its name from the neighboring Mokelumne River, which in turn is Miwok for the "people of Mokel," the likely name of an Indian village in the area.

 

Mokelumne Hill was one of the richest gold mining towns in California. Founded in 1848 by a group of Oregonians, the placers were so rich that the miners risked starvation rather than head to Stockton to replenish their supplies (one finally did and made it rich by becoming a merchant). Soon after, gold was discovered in the nearby hills, so much so that miners were restricted to claims of 16 square feet, and yet many of those claims were reported to have paid up to $20,000.

 

By 1850 the town was one of the largest in the area, with its population reaching as high as 15,000 with people of all nationalities: Americans, Frenchmen, Germans, Spaniards, Chileans, Mexicans, Chinese, and others. Besides racial tensions, the easy gold attracted criminal elements, and the town gained a reputation as one of the bawdiest in the area. Notorious bandit Joaquin Murietta is said to have been a frequent visitor to the gambling venues. Violence was a major problem as well. In 1851, there was at least one homicide a week for seventeen consecutive weeks. A "vigiliance committee" was formed and by 1852, the worst of the crime was eliminated. That year, the town became the county seat.

 

By the 1860s the gold started to run out and the town's population and importance diminished. When San Andreas became the new county seat in 1866, Mokelumne Hill's status declined even further. The town today is a quiet place, with lots of tourism due to its historic status.

 

The first post office was established in 1851.

 

Mokelumne Hill is registered as California Historical Landmark #269.

 

 

View of Mokelumne Hill, CA, 1857

 

Michael White on his Return to San Ysidro

Robert Field Stockton

Michael White Continues:

[The] next morning Cottrell and myself went on top of the hills, and I told him he might go back if he wanted to, for I was going to Los Angeles, and would contrive to get in. Los Angeles had been taken the day before by Commodore Stockton's forces and my fears were that the Mexicans might catch me and carry me off to Sonora or kill me on the road.

We started together, and that night just before the day broke were at the Ranchito then belonging to an uncle of my wife's (Juan Perez), now to Pio Pico.[Between 1850 and 1852 Pio Pico built an adobe home, "El Ranchito." now the Pio Pico State Monument, near Whittier.]

 

Stephan Watts Kearny

After daylight I went to the shanty. The old man came out and said, "In the name of God, where have you come from?" I told him from Chino and was bound to Los Angeles. He said if I was seen by the Mexicans they would kill me. My intention was to hide in the mustard weed all day and get in at night.

We got plenty to eat, and were stowed under the bed the whole day.

In the evening after it was dark, we left for Los Angeles. My wife's uncle sent a guide with us till we got over the river. We went on and had fun with him. Every time I heard a band of horses I would tell Cottrell they were horsemen after us and to lay down flat on his belly, and I would do so just for deviltry. He was in a constant dread of being taken. In fact, several Mexicans had been to the Uncle's house inquiring if he had seen any Yankees, and he would answer, "No, go home to your affairs; Stockton passed here yesterday and did not hurt me or mine―did not even take a borrega [a small yearling lamb].

Pauline Weaver

We got into Los Angeles sometime before daylight, went to Lemuel Carpenter's house and got something to eat. About 10 or 11 a.m. went to Headquarters of Commodore Stockton and General Kearny. He asked me if I had been set at liberty, and I said, "No, I have taken French liberty; if the cage door is left open, the bird will fly away." He said he did not blame me and advised me to go to my quarters. I told him I was going home. He asked me if I was not afraid of being killed on the road, and I replied that home I would go anyhow.

As I was near the Rosa de Castilla I saw about a dozen Mexicans, all armed and mounted. I was on foot. I heard them cry out, "There goes a Yankee, let's go and kill him." They came rushing toward me, when one of them burst out, "That's my cousin, you must not touch him." That was the huero [blonde] Higuera. He was in some way a relative of my mother-in-law.

He asked me if Stockton would not kill them if they went into town. "Kill the devil," I said, "you are not a deer. You may go in and deliver your arms or go and put them away, and go to your work, and no one will molest you." He asked me two or three times if I was sure of that, and I answered him in the affirmative. He said he would go home to his work and be done with war. I told him his country was taken and he had nothing to do but to go home and keep quiet, and no one would interfere with him. They left me and I went home without any mishap.

[there is a piece of the text missing here] clothing in the house. Not a thing was left, not even corn or anything else to eat. A day or two later I came over to Workman's. I did not want to say that I had nothing to eat, but he divined it, and asked if I had brought a sack. I said “yes” and he gave me a sack of flour, and told me to send my ox cart the next day and he would load it for me. I did so, and got a good supply of grain and other things.

Got some questions for you, Michael White: how come you’re having to check in with Kearny and Stockton while Lemuel Carpenter and the others are just hanging out at home? That sounds like you’re enlisted, not just some guy who was looking at lumber the day the Californios “attacked” Wilson’s battalion, who somehow found themselves at Isaac William’s place. Now we know that you worked for Workman for a year while you were living in Taos, and that while he wasn’t physically at the Battle of Chino, he was the captain at the Battle of Cahuenga, and he was definitely affiliated with the Americans. The wagonload of groceries sounds like a payment, not like a nice guy being generous to a friend who’s down on his luck.

Then we’ve got the missing text. It seems like the beginning of the paragraph was probably that you went home and the place had been cleaned out, which makes me wonder, “when was the last time you were home?” I’m guessing that Maria del Rosario and the kids are probably hanging out someplace safer, like the mission. Back to the morass of moral ambiguity – White’s family hasn’t been exactly safe from either the Mexicans or the Americans all summer, so it’s a good thing the war is over. In fact, from White’s comments to Higuera, it’s pretty clear that he identified the winning side and got on it, but he just wants things to get back to “normal.”

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And there’s the money issue. If he was making bank on his ranch, he wouldn’t have taken a construction job for Hugo Reid. He’s probably still wiped out from losing all his stock three years before. Clearly, he still has an ox and a cart, and that’s something, but it ain’t much. He’s got San Ysidro and he’s got El Cajon de Muscupiabe (which he probably hasn’t given up on yet) In fact – he’s probably trying to curry some favor with Wilson, Williams, Workman, and Weaver to get Muscupiabe up and running since it didn’t work out with the Lugos. He never said, but being broke creates its own kinda logic.

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View Michael White in the Mexican-American War in a larger map

Michael White in the Mexican-American War

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Michael White on the Battle of Chino

 

General Andrés Pico

 

Now between the revolt against Micheltorena and the Battle of Chino, White’s friends are doing pretty well for themselves. Pio Pico became Governor, José Castro, Comandante General and Workman, Wilson and Rowland are collecting land.

Things are going very badly for the Mexican government in California and it really just doesn’t seem possible that Michael White, whose aforementioned friends just de-stabilized the last Mexican-appointed governor didn’t know that. James Beckwourth, of the Pegleg Smith-Walkara-Beckwourth gang helped himself to 1,500 horses on his way out of California after the Battle of Cahuenga, justifying it by saying he was depriving the “enemy” of horses. What? The Mexicans weren’t enemies – yet. 

Pío Pico

Pico moved the capital of California from Monterey to Los Angeles in 1845. America declared war on Mexico in May 1846, the Bear Flag revolt was in June 1846 and Monterey was captured in July. So in 1846, Michael White knew trouble was brewing.

Here he goes:

“I was working in September, 1846 for Mr. Hugo Reid building a house at the place where Mr. B. D. Wilson now lives.”

Side note on that, courtesy Glen Dawson: Rancho Huerta de Cuati was owned by Victoria Reid, wife of Hugo Reid. She owned this rancho and that of Santa Anita and was one of the few full-blooded Indians to hold land under a Mexican grant, in California. She sold to Huerta de Cuati to Don Benito Wilson, who renamed it "Lake Vineyard."

Back to Michael White:

“My home was at the San Isidro ranch, which I still hold. Reid went up to San Francisco. There was a man sawing lumber at San Gorgonio, named Pablo Weaver” [aka Pauline Weaver, the guy who knew that the “we’ll give you the Rancho Muscupiabe Grant and all you have to do is keep raiding parties out of California” was a bad idea].

Here the Beatties have something to say “The mission rancho San Gorgonio, at the summit of the pass of that name, was the most eastern property occupied by San Gabriel. In 1845 Pauline Weaver joined Isaac Williams in petitioning the Mexican government for a grant of this former mission holding. (Beattie, Heritage of the Valley, p. 68)

And back to Michael White:

David Alexander and William Workman

“I am coming to see this lumber. When I got to the Chino ranch, belonging to Isaac Williams,

he asked me to remain, and as I had had a long ride, I consented to stay. [that’s no joke; San Gabriel to Chino is a long haul - about 30 miles. The ranch house of Isaac Williams, the site of the Battle of Chino, is no longer in existence, but was about three miles southwest of the present town of Chino.]

That evening B. D. Wilson came there with his men, 18 all told. After that other men joined us, namely Rubidoux, John Rowland, David Alexander, George Walters, Loring and an Austrian named William Skene or Stene.”

The Wilsons 1852

O.K., now I think that basically Michael White was a pretty honest guy, but I’m not sure I believe the whole “I was just looking at lumber and the Benito Wilson showed up with his posse” scenario. He’s got to know after the Battle of Cahuenga that when the Taos mafia showed up, they weren’t going out to a sports bar.

 

Back to Michael White:

“Among Wilson's original 18 were William and Edward Cottrell (both sailors) and Godey and Perdue (American Creoles from St. Louis, Mo. and both officers under Wilson). I don't remember the names of the others—one of them was an American sailor, who some years after was hung in San Diego for having joined hostile Indians to commit depredations.

We by this time formed a party of 22 or 23. That night I stood guard with David Alexander (present [1877] sheriff of Los Angeles). I heard the Californians who were besieging us that they would burn us out the next morning. I think that was the night of 26 September.

As soon as I got relieved, I went to Wilson and Isaac Williams and suggested that we should build two little forts with joists of which there were a quantity there, so that we could sweep the enemy from all sides at which they could approach the house where we were. My advice was not heeded, as they said that the Californians would not come near us.

  

Next morning got up, and one fellow went on top of the house. His name Isaac Batchelder, (surnamed the Picayune because he was short). He sang out to me, and said, "Good God—what a quantity of horses are there!" I told him to lookout sharp, and he would see men on top of them.

A Frenchman named Anton the Cook, said, "I must hurry up and make some coffee" and I told him, "Yes, hurry up, or else you'll get chocolate." We did get chocolate, sure. I had hardly got the words out of my mouth, when I saw the whole force of Californio cavalrymen rush to the house and the roof was very soon on fire—it was made of wood and asphaltum.

Williams begged me to go on the roof and ask the Californians to let us off, but as I was angry with him for not heeding my advice of the night before, and charging me with cowardice. I refused, and told him to go himself. Williams was frightened out of his wits.

He was a traitor to us. He wrote a letter to the Californian commander encamped at the place now called Bella Union, which I saw him deliver to Felix Gallardo, saying that if his forces did not come up quick, they would not be able to take us, for Stuttering Alick (whose name was Smith) was out at San Jacinto and would come to our rescue the next day. I know this to be a fact for Captain Segura some days afterwards told me of it and showed me Williams' letter.”

Here’s the footnote on that one: “Don Benito Wilson wrote a letter to Gillespie from the Chino Rancho apprising the Lieutenant of the fact that it would be impossible for him to come to his assistance in the pueblo due to lack of ammunition. This letter was given to Felix Gallardo to deliver, but Williams told the messenger to deliver it to General Flores, instead, as a token of his (Williams') loyalty to the Californians.” [Wilson, Observations of Early Days, Historical Society of Southern California Annual Publication, 1934.]

Boy, I’ll be Michael White was feeling good and suckered by now. Here he goes again:

“Williams took a very long reed and hung on it something that looked like a piece of a shirt, and exhibited it in the enclosed plaza so that the Californians could see it above the roof (it was a square of about half an acre surrounded by buildings). After some palavering, Wilson, who acted for us, received a promise that we should be treated as prisoners of war if we would surrender. Previous to that there had been a good deal of firing from both sides. Our fire killed Carlos Ballesteros, and wounded a New Mexican.

On our side we had Callahan (in the prairie the day before) and Godey wounded, besides William Skene who was hit by a ball in his breeches' pocket where he had a box of caps, which bursted and burnt into both his thighs and into his privates. The poor man suffered horribly.

We accepted the terms offered us and surrendered.

The Californians took us over to the soap works—about 300 yards from the house. On going over I saw one of the Mexican officers brandishing his sword and heard him say that they must look upon us with mercy.

Loring asked me what the Californians were talking about and what they were going to do with us. I answered that they were going to make soap of us. Loring did not like the joke, for he had seen the brandishing of the sword and had not understood the words. Indeed, he believed that they were going to kill us all.

We were searched, and the same evening started on the march for the headquarters of the California forces. I had been requested by Wilson to say that we had taken the Chino by force so as to save Williams from being carried off as a prisoner, and I complied. Williams was left at home with his children.”

Alright, now that’s a little weird, don’t you think? Again, it answers the “what,” but not the “why.” If Benjamin Wilson and Michael White both believed that Isaac Williams betrayed them, why on earth would they cover for him?

If Michael White is being completely truthful, then this is the sequence of events:

Isaac Williams, a considerate host, noted that Michael White had a long ride and offered him a place to crash. White, having made the long ride from San Gabriel to Chino, was happy to have some down time before getting back on the road. “Oh, look who’s here - it’s Ben Wilson and 20 of his friends? Hey, looks like this is shaping up to be quite a party!” Then they got besieged and had to come up with a good defense. Then Wilson and Williams together shot down White’s 2-fort plan. Then White got pissy with everybody for dragging him into another disaster. Then Williams tried to save his own neck at everyone else’s expense, which isn’t too surprising since his whole family was in the house and he didn’t want it burned down. And then Wilson told White to lie about it to save Williams, so he did! Sorry, amigo, but your story has some holes in it. I think you knew what was going down, and you weren’t just there to look at lumber.

Now here’s another wrinkle and it’s a more sympathetic look at Isaac Williams, and White doesn’t mention it. Williams, originally from Pennsylvania, had become a Mexican citizen and married Maria de Jesus Lugo, daughter of Antonio Maria Lugo. Yeah, that Antonio Maria Lugo. So it isn’t just “whose side are you on” – it’s a family thing because William’s own brother-in-law was coming out to arrest him

Here’s the recap: Serbulo Varela, Diego Sepulveda [Diego Sepulveda and José Lugo were cousins] and Ramon Carrillo left Los Angeles with about fifty men, while José del Carmen Lugo with another fifteen to twenty men left from San Bernardino to converge upon Rancho del Chino. On the night of September 26, 1846, the adobe ranch house was surrounded by the Californios. At dawn, the following day, gunfire was exchanged resulting in one Californio (Carlos Ballesteros) dead with two wounded and three American wounded. When the Californios attempted to set fire to the roof of the house, Wilson surrendered to Varela. This brief engagement became known as the Battle of Chino.

So did Isaac Williams know what was up or didn't he?

Back to Michael White:

“About one mile or two from the Chino on the march, we were in the utmost danger of being killed. The Californians and Mexicans were exasperated because of the death of Ballesteros and had come to the conclusion to shoot us all. Ramon Carrillo saved our lives. Mr. Wilson has always said that we owed our lives to Sérvulo Varela, but I know that he and Diego Sepúlveda were in cahoots and would have sent us to the other world if it had not been for Ramon Carrillo.

I saw with my own eyes when Carrillo, on the road went, and struck several whacks on Varela's back with the flat of his sword, saying at the same time, "I'll let you know that they are prisoners of mine, and you can do nothing with them. They say that I am an assassin" (he referred to the charges preferred against him of having murdered some Americans in the Sonoma region) "I will prove to the world that I am not one." Diego Sepúlveda and Sérvulo Varela were always after that and had been before very good friends of mine; but the facts of the case are just as I have stated.”

A note about Ramon Carrillo: This incident occurred during the Bear Flag Revolt at Sonoma. On June 18th or 19th, 1846, two men, Cowie and Palmer, were sent by William Ide to secure a keg of powder from the Fitch Rancho on the Russian River. Discarding all precaution these men took the main road and were captured by Ramon Carrillo and Juan Padilla, by whom they were supposed to have been killed. (Giffen)

Now I’m thinking that it isn’t that Michael White was a liar, I just think he ain’t being 100 percent truthful, and the reason is because he found himself in a morally ambiguous situation and there was no possible way he could win. He had “friends” on both sides of this conflict and he chose to side with the Americans. That wasn’t such a bad thing – everyone knew the Mexicans and Californios weren’t going to win the war (although they did well in battle) because they didn’t have the infinite resources of the United States. And since he was English, not Spanish, he never really was “one of the Dons.” Since New Mexico, he’d been hanging out more with these Americans, and maybe their ideology was appealing to him – they seemed like a bunch of movers and shakers that shared his sense of adventure instead of just kicking back on the farm.

By the time this of this narrative, about 30 years had gone past, and he was sorry he’d had anything to do with this war, even though it probably seemed like a good idea at the time. And who can say? If he fought with the Californios, he would’ve won this battle and lost the war, instead of losing the battle and winning the war, or maybe he would just be dead. Remember what I say about luck.

But let’s get back to Michael White:

Archibald Gillespie

“One or two days later in the Paredon Blanco [White Bluffs, now Boyle Heights. In a few short years, the Workman family would own this property] three or four of us were exchanged. I was exchanged for Andres Pico, who had been till then a prisoner in the hands of Captain [Archibald H ] Gillespie. Isaac Batchelder, Edward Cottrell, and a half-breed Cherokee were also exchanged for other Californians in Gillespie's hands.

 

The whole trouble and revolt of the Californians arose from the despotic measures of Captain Gillespie, who seemed to take a special pleasure in humiliating the most respectable among the Californians and reducing the people to the condition of a conquered race. His measures were unwarrantable, and led to all the trouble and bloodshed that ensued. Had a sensible officer been left in command at Los Angeles instead of him, the Californians would have continued to acquiesce to the occupation of their country by the Americans at least until something favorable to Mexico had resulted from the campaign there.”

 

It’s interesting that Gillespie considered Michael White a suitable hostage exchange for Andres Pico. It’s also a little weird that White considered Gillespie a total ass, and joined the American side anyway.

 

The chronology of this period is as follows:

·        August 13, 1846, Fremont and Stockton took Los Angeles without opposition;

·        early September, Captain Gillespie and some 50 men were left to hold Los Angeles;

·        September 23 there was an outbreak by the Californians in Los Angeles;

·        September 26 was the Battle of Chino, described by White, with the American force surrendering to the Californians;

·        September 30 was an exchange of prisoners and Gillespie forced to withdraw to San Pedro;

·        October 9, the attempt to retake Los Angeles fails at the Battle of Dominguez;

·        December 6, Kearny and his men fight the Californians at Battle of San Pasqual;

·        January 8 and , Americans approaching from San Diego fight battles of San Gabriel and La Mesa, the last battles on California soil

·        January 13, 1847, Fremont and Andres Pico sign treaty of Cahuenga.

Clipping in the Hi-Desert Star January 30, 2010

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