by Paul R. Spitzzeri
It is America’s 248th birthday today and it is worth heeding the words of President Abraham Lincoln in his Independence Day address of 1861, just four months after he assumed the office of chief executive and as the United States was in the early days of the horrors of the Civil War: “It may be affirmed without extravagance that the free institutions we enjoy have developed the powers and improved the condition of our whole people beyond any example in the world.”
Moreover, as we approach the 250th anniversary of the issuing of the Declaration of Independence, the Homestead will be developing plans and strategies for how to commemorate what the nonpartisan America250 project states is “an opportunity to pause and reflect on our nation’s past, honor the contributions of all Americans, and look ahead toward the future we want to create for the next generation and beyond.”
This post looks at the celebration of Independence Day in Los Angeles in 1872 and it is notable that the oration of the day was given by Californio Ygnacio Sepúlveda (1842-1916), an extraordinary Angeleno who was a lawyer, county and superior court judge and, in México for some three decades, a close adviser to Porfirio Díaz, the de facto dictator of the country for most of 35 years.
In the 5 July edition of the Los Angeles Express, which is in the Museum’s collection, most of the third-page section normally devoted largely to local news was assigned to coverage of the festivities, which, as with this year, took place on a Thursday. The paper began by observing that,
The people of Los Angeles may always feel proud of yesterday’s celebration; for, barring the usual unforseen [sic] and unprovided for departures from the regular programme of ceremonies, very little, if anything occurred to mar the pleasantness and patriotism of the occasion.
The weather was “unusually salubrious and propitious” thanks, mainly, to “a vast fog bank which had lingered al night in the west,” so that “the sun only shone to warm a exhilarate and not to fatigue and discompose.” Places of business closed at 10 a.m. “and the city wore its holiday attire,” including public buildings and hotels which were “richly and elaborately festooned and draped in national colors, while the imperishable stars and stripes were flung to the breeze from many a towering staff.” Many houses displayed abundant bunting and were “otherwise caparisoned with the ever precious Red White and Blue.”
Folks dressed in their Sunday best and “moved indiscriminately about our thoroughfares with unmistakable Fourth of July expressions temporarily engraved upon their mobile physiognomies.” Moreover, there were “the diapason of bells, bombs and cannon” as well as “the ceaseless rackett [sic] of powder crackers from China” as part of “a jubilee of joy and a patriotic bewilderment” only to be found on the nation’s birthday.
A parade began exactly at ten with grand marshal Phineas Banning, the “Port Admiral” of the harbor at Wilmington/San Pedro assisted by Aaron Smith and Los Angeles Star publisher George W. Barter amid a platoon of horse riders and a band led by haberdasher Daniel Desmond. Four white horses drew a barouche carriage ferrying the day’s president, Benjamin D. Wilson, Sepúlveda, attorney and future mayor Henry T. Hazard, who read the Declaration, and District Court Judge Robert M. Widney. A vehicle followed with Congregational Church pastor John T. Wills and Rabbi Abraham W. Edelman of the Congregation B’nai B’rith with another containing Mayor Cristóbal Aguilar and the members of the Common (City) Council, including future mayor William H. Workman.
A second division was headed by Eulogio de Célis, publisher of the recently launched (early May) newspaper, La Crónica (later led by Thomas W. Temple), and including “the new steam fire engine” of the volunteer fire company, with the vehicle “beautifully and tastefully ornamented with ribbons and flowers, and drawn by six gray horses.” The firefighters of Company No. 1, in full uniform, pulled their hose carriage as “all along the route they were cheered, and made the recipients of bouquets and little hemmed-stitched handkerchief salutations.” A Dolly Varden Company, named for a Charles Dickens character but also representative of women’s clothing followed, but it appears these were men dressed in the raiment. More than seventy members of the French Benevolent were also included, as was “the portable beer garden” of the New York Brewery operated by Christopher Henne.
The third division was presided over by merchant Charles Prager, with Banning’s son William as one of the attaches included the eight-piece band of the Turn Verein Germania and its 66 members; the Hibernian (Irish) Benevolent Society and its 38 members wearing green scarves and “looking superbly;” the 28 members of the International Order of Odd Fellows, including Elijah H. Workman, the councilmember’s brother; two dozen representatives of the Lincoln Club “carrying a magnificent silk flag;” and another comedic element, a group of Gold Rush ’49ers, “evidently a detached gang of the Hangtown brigade,” with mules carrying mining equipment and tools with the paper reporting “all in all this took the boys, and made the grown folks smile.”
Marshals Henri Penelon and Andrew J. King led the fourth and final division, which included vehicles from the American Bakery, the Haas store milk wagon, the Mariposa Store and more than seventy carriages of citizens and the Express observed that “the procession was heartily cheered at prominent points along the route.” This was from the Plaza down Main to Spring, then south to 1st, across to Fort (Broadway), south to 3rd, east to Main, Main to Commercial, east to Los Angeles, north to New Aliso and ending at “the delightful grounds of Mrs. [wife of Dr. Thomas J.] White, where the ceremonies took place.
The White property, including a substantial vineyard was along the bank of the Los Angeles River, just northeast of where Union Station is now and near where the county jail is situated, though the paper stated that “the arrangements . . . were unexceptional.” Still, it continued, “under the sweeping branches of a graceful willow, the grand stand” was placed and “under a never-ceasing shade were seats for the ladies and their escorts.”
Banning called the convocation to order and was followed by “a few appropriate remarks” by Wilson, after which Rabbi Edelman gave a benediction. Desmond’s band played “Hail, Columbia,” which is today’s entrance march for the Vice-President of the United States. Hazard’s reading of the Declaration was “a fine literary, as well as a patriotic, treat” and he “acquitted himself splendidly, and gave general satisfaction.” After the German chorus sang the national anthem, Sepúlveda was introduced for his featured oration.
The jurist, who turned 30 years old on the 1st (will we ever see a local judge in their twenties again, as well as a sheriff, as incumbent William R. Rowland was at the time?) opened by observing that “the thrilling hearts of millions welcome the dawn of this auspicious day, sanctified by a event which has contributed to the highest degree to the assurance of the fundamental rights of humanity” and he continued that
The memories which cluster round the fortunate epoch which we now commemorate, are supremely elevating, and bind a great people to that ennobling thought which connects it with all that is inspiring and divine; which gives life its most sublime touches; disenthrals [sic] humanity from a thousand oppressions, and promises a future pregnant with peace, happiness and splendor.
Sepúlveda delivered more of the purple prose expected of such addresses and reflected on the fact that “liberty had flickered in the gloom of the past” and noted that “sacrifices had been made, blood had been spilled, and agonies suffered.” Still, even as there were signs of the expiration of freedom, “its embers were there, ever ready to be touched by the vivifying breath of heroism, and to spread a hallowed brilliancy over the suffering human race.”
The issuance of the Declaration was just that and “the finger of God pointed to the virgin shores of America as the new abode of true liberty” and “within the brief space of ninety-six years, the American Union has reached a pinnacle of glory and prosperity unsurpassed by any nation, ancient or modern. America, Sepúlveda intoned, was the peer of classic Greece, Sparta and Rome, but “above them we see the brow of the young nation encircled with the dazzling light of civic virtues and religious tolerance.”
Angelenos, being recipients of the manifold benefits of American democratic freedoms, “assemble to-day, to pay homage to their worth; to renew our fealty to the principles by them proclaimed, and by our joy signify the boundless gratitude which animates us.” The judge mentioned George Washington and the “great men of the American Revolution” of whom “posterity salutes you, in the sunshine of your peerless immortality” but asked “why mention names?” as he observed that “history enshrines true heroes.”
Sepúlveda added that Americans “claim fellowship with all nations in their attempts to redeem humanity, to arouse intellectual development, to free human thought, to advance civilization, to consolidate society upon a true moral basis.” Asking a second query of “why narrate the events which illume our history?” he responded that “they are familiar to the young and to the old” because “the lisping tongue of infancy murmurs them; sanguine youth exalts them; venerable old age repeats them; the world knows them by heart.”
The American democratic system of government “can well exact the astonishment of men; for it embodies the epitome of the success of liberty and progress in its true sense,” though the Californio native of the City of the Angels added that “to it all nations have contributed, with the treasures of their experience, with the efforts of their children.” From all parts of the country, Americans “reared the colossal fabric, admiration of the world” and, overseas, “the oppressed victims of unequal systems of government, throw their gaze upon our shores, and the glistening waves beacon [beckon] them to come.” This meant that “it becomes our solemn duty to be true to the objects for which our institutions were created.”
After noting that the “sacred lessons” of “the sublime event of 1776” were an imperative that “we must avow vivid faith in our mission, fidelity to the elevation of humanity, [and] broad charity and toleration towards all,” Sepúlveda offered to the assemblage the admonition that,
In the elevation where we stand to-day, we know no parties, we acknowledge no distinctions. In the grand temple where we kneel, the proud Caucasian, and the humble colored man, have entered. To both we owe duties. While they remain, votaries with us, within the sacred walls of the American edifice, they are entitled to justice, to the protection of the laws, the benefits of civilization, the enjoyment of the inalienable rights of manhood, “life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.”
The orator shied away from prognosticating the future, but he counseled “let us so prepare and educate our minds, so temper our hearts, that we may be always ready to meet events, to encounter and overcome manfully the obstacles which we may find in the pathway of [the] unparalleled destiny reserved for our country.” He called for “joy and fraternity,” appreciation for the legacies of the founding figures of the nation, a determination to keep these alive for posterity, while reminding his hearers that “three is no room to-day for prejudices and animosities; no narrow discriminations, no intolerance.”
Sepúlveda reminded the assemblage that “in the grand march of progress and enlightenment, we are all brothers. To-day we only gaze upon the beautiful page of every nation; we only behold the gleams of glory which radiate from the noble efforts of all them.” After saying he would detain the audience no longer, he proclaimed at the apex of his soaring rhetoric that
To no nation has Providence confided higher destinies, holier trusts, than to the United States of America. The path traced by the eternal wisdom, for the accomplishment of great ends, is before you. Upon the folds of the standard of the Republic are inscribed the true principles of liberty, the benificent [sic] truths of religion, the onward, steadfast, triumphant march of civilization. Do not thwart its destiny; allow no impure breath to dim its lustre. Follow it; for aloft, in the vanguard of the solemn procession of nations, it leads, it leads, resistlessly advancing, to the perfection of human society, to the realization of the highest and noblest aspirations of the human heart.
The Express recorded that the speaker “was received with great applause, three cheers were proposed and given with a will for Judge Sepulveda.” After the Turn Verein band performed “Our Patriots’ Fatherland,” speeches were made from the various societies as well as from French Consul Jacob A. Morenhaut. “Sentiments” were offered by Widney to the country; Wills to the president, Ulysses S. Grant (who was reelected in November); and Banning to “The Day We Celebrate,” while Edelman gave “a special invocation” to Grant and other federal officials as well as California Governor Newton Booth and state officers, while Willis gave a closing prayer.
While the official celebration ended, “a large number of people at once repaired to the District Park Race Grounds” at Agricultural (Exposition) Park “to witness the exhibition of horse flesh” in a quartet of races, while more were held on the 5th. Balls were held by the Turn Verein and Lincoln Club, as well as in the outlying communities of Gallatin (today’s Pico Rivera where a road of that name connects Rosemead and Paramount boulevards), Anaheim and El Monte and where “many a gallant fellow and many a bright eyed girl engaged in mazy waltz and the exhilarating polka.” Specifically noted were “weighty eyelids [which] tells the story of” what transpired at “the Monte—the Mecca of the devotees of Orpheus and Terpischore.”
The women of the Methodist Church held a thirteen hours’ dinner at the skating rink, with some $700 in gross receipts tallied, and several gents arrived at the end, as they did the prior year, and purchased the remaining food and drink for “a free refreshment saloon.” Lastly, the paper reported that “the fireworks were et off from Telegraph [Poundcake] Hill, and attracted a vast crowd of spectators.” The pyrotechnics were considered “very fine, and elicited general admiration,” though winds forced a rushed detonation, while, throughout Los Angeles, there were “indiscriminate discharges and explosions of Fourth of July packages in the shape of prepared chemicals and gunpowder.”
In the editorial section, the Express observed that,
Our National Anniversary was celebrated in this city yesterday in a manner well becoming the patriotism and enterprising spirit of our liberty-loving people . . .
In common with many of our citizens, we were agreeably surprised at this oration. We had credited Judge Sepulveda with rare ability, we knew his reputation as a scholar and diligent student; and hence had expected something from him rather about the average Fourth of July oration; but we have no hesitation in pronouncing his eloquent address of yesterday to be the finest oratorical and literary effort which was ever listened to in Southern California.
The paper lauded the jurist’s use of “the rarest and most beautiful metaphors, in soul-stirring, patriotic utterances” and a conclusion comprising “a most elegant, skillful and well-sustained peroration, which awakened the most intense enthusiasm among his hearers.” It reiterated that Sepúlveda’s “masterly” speech was “one of the finest efforts of the character it has ever been our good fortune to listen to.”
Hazard was also praised for memorizing the Declaration and for excellent enunciation and elocution, with the paper asserting that he was “a young gentleman of more than ordinary promise as an orator.” In all, it concluded, “the entire proceedings passed off with great enthusiasm and eclat, and the celebration . . . will long be remembered as a great success.” The paper also thanked the volunteer fire company for “three rousing cheers” as it passed by the Express office on Spring Street during the parade, while also complimenting La Crónica for “an excellent show of decorations” for the holiday, with the display “generally pronounced the most elaborate and beautiful in the city.”
While we no longer have the orations of the kind given so successfully as that of Judge Sepúlveda and balls have given way to picnics, though there are some Independence Day parades and pyrotechnics are now the central feature of our celebrations, the Fourth of July is our public expression of patriotism and the steadfast belief in an American democracy, fragile as it sometimes can be, that soon will mark two and a half centuries of exalted ideals, halting if significant progress, and ongoing reminders of what is needed to sustain it in times of threat and trouble.