In mid-nineteenth century Los Angeles, what is now North Broadway Street was called Calle de Eternidad, or Eternity Street. Unlike North Broadway, Eternity Street didn’t continue northeastward across the Los Angeles River. It ended at a cemetery near today’s Chinatown. From about 1840 into the 1870s, traffic on Eternity Street was heavy with funeral processions for the victims of rampant violence and equally rampant frontier justice. That little-known period of Los Angeles history is the subject of Eternity Street: Violence and Justice in Frontier Los Angeles, by John Mack Faragher, the Howard R. Lamar Professor of History and American Studies at Yale University and a Southern California native.
In the first half of the nineteenth century, Los Angeles was hit by a perfect storm of social and cultural disintegration. In the eighteenth century, Catholic Spain had taken the indigenous peoples from their communities and enslaved them on the grounds of the Franciscan missions. Then, upon gaining independence in 1821, Mexico secularized the missions, displacing hundreds of Indians formerly attached to Mission San Gabriel and forcing them to seek work and sustenance in the Pueblo of Los Angeles. In the 1830s, the modicum of order that independent Mexico had succeeded in imposing on Alta California was under pressure from disaffected Californios and from expansionist elements from the United States. Through a sequence of masterfully told stories, Faragher traces the slow creation of an ordered society of laws out of the lawlessness that arose in the wake of these events.
By the middle of the nineteenth century, Los Angeles’s murder rate was frightening. The county’s population grew from 3,500 in 1850 to 15,000 in 1870. In the City of Los Angeles, there were 10 to 35 murders each year between 1850 and 1875. In 1855, Los Angeles counted more murders than San Francisco, which had 10 times the population. As Faragher recounts, “Los Angeles was one of the most lethal places on the planet, with a murder rate comparable to that of Mexican border towns in the first decade of the twenty-first century, at the height of the violence between warring drug cartels.” Yet the murder statistics understated the true level of violence. Killings labeled murders excluded most killings committed in “self-defense.” As Faragher notes, gunfights were constant in a town “awash in guns.”
The courts themselves were not free of violence. Lawyers and judges were known to carry guns and Bowie knives into the courtroom. During a hearing in 1860, District Attorney E.J.C. Kewen fired a gun at defense counsel, hitting a bystander. In 1877, attorney and former judge Robert Widney pointed a gun at a witness and called him a “perjured villain” after the witness testified that Widney had participated in an infamous vigilante hanging.
In fact, Widney was a vigilante—one of several responsible, public-minded citizens who participated in or supported frontier Los Angeles’s vigilance committees. During this period, vigilante groups were highly active in Los Angeles. Of the 300 vigilante executions recorded in California between 1836 and 1876, 50 occurred in Los Angeles. Vigilantism arose from a public perception that official institutions of justice were failing to stem violence and administer “proper” justice. Over the century, Los Angeles’s vigilante groups grew in numbers and power to a point where vigilante lynchings were themselves the most horrific expressions of the violence that the committees had been formed to prevent.
Los Angeles’s first recorded vigilante hanging occurred in 1836, under Mexican rule. José Domingo Féliz was found dead. His wife and her lover confessed to the killing, and there was an outcry for “speedy and solemn justice.” A “people’s committee” presented the town council with a petition asserting that official institutions were ineffectual in curbing violence. The committee declared María Féliz and Gervasio Alipás guilty of murder and demanded that the couple be turned over to the people for execution. The council “chose not to wage a lonely struggle against a people angry and armed.” The lovers were taken from the jail and hanged.
By 1851, a year into California statehood, and for at least another 20 years, Los Angeles’s institutions of justice were no more effectual than in 1836. The city’s common council rejected an early proposal to prohibit guns within city limits and repeatedly rejected proposals to fund an adequate police force. From the founding of the county in 1850 to 1869, law enforcement consisted of the county sheriff, his undersheriff and deputy, plus the city marshal and two deputies. These officers were responsible for keeping the peace in an area comprising present-day Los Angeles, San Bernardino, and Orange counties. In addition, the sheriff was responsible for collecting county taxes—out of which he took a share. By 1870, the addition of four deputy marshals brought the number of law enforcement officials in Los Angeles to 10 for a population of 15,000. In this vacuum of public authority, 10 murders were recorded in 1850 and 12 in 1851, but an editorial in the Star asked, “Who today can name one instance in which a murderer has been punished?”
Los Angeles’s first legitimate, legal execution did not happen until February 1854, and it was tainted by apparent racism and unfairness. The defendant, Ygnacio Herrera, killed the victim in a brawl—the kind of killing that in previous years most likely would not have been prosecuted. Herrera’s actions were arguably less blameworthy than two widely publicized killings early in 1853. Those killings, committed by two Anglos, had been ruled justifiable by the Anglo judge who presided at their preliminary hearing. The evidently differing standards used in the two cases led non-Anglo Californios to suspect discrimination. Still, Herrera’s trial, conviction, and lawful execution were a start toward fair, regular criminal procedures in Los Angeles and a corresponding end of vigilantism.
The event that most decisively turned Angelenos away from vigilantism took place on October 23, 1871, when 18 Chinese immigrants were tortured and hanged by a mob. The trouble began when a city patrolman heard gunfire, rode to the scene, found a chaotic situation, and sought help from bystanders in making arrests. The gunfighters escaped, but over the next several hours, the officers lost control and a mob reaching 600 surrounded a building in which several dozen innocent Chinese men and women were hiding. Eighteen men were dragged outside, beaten, shot, and hanged at locations around town.
Attorney Robert Widney and other “old vigilantes” teamed up with longtime opponents of vigilantism, confronted the mob, and ended the horror. It was widely recognized, though, that “the monstrosity of the thing was in imitation of the Vigilance Committee, in hanging those arrested…instead of allowing the law to take its own course.” In an evident gesture toward exonerating the vigilantes for the violence of October 23, or toward making amends for their actions over the preceding half-century, Robert Widney sought appointment as judge in the proceedings against the lynchers, and he was appointed.
Only eight lynchers were convicted, and those convictions were of mere manslaughter. As to at least one victim, even that judgment was reversed by the California Supreme Court on the ground that the indictment failed to expressly allege that the victim was killed. In sum, the proceedings fell short of a dramatic triumph of justice over violence. Afterwards however, nothing was the same.
Los Angeles’s last vigilante hanging was in 1874. Jesús Romo was identified as the perpetrator of a horrific robbery and assault, and within hours was hanged near the scene of the crime by a group that included “some of the worthiest and most respected citizens of Los Angeles County.” After that, Los Angeles continued to be violent, exceeding the national murder rate by half until the end of the century. But the reign of vigilantism was over—a palpable step forward.
Although primarily an account of a victory of ordered justice over vengeance, Eternity Street offers more. The book recounts some of the rich history of Los Californios that preceded statehood, and it provides background on the Anglo-American conquest of California that most Californians are not taught in school. For lawyers, the book provides context and history to the formation of Los Angeles’s political and legal institutions. For all Angelenos and readers of history, the book provides insight into the soul of the City of Angels that will enrich our understanding of who we are as a community.