by Paul R. Spitzzeri
This past weekend’s Doors Open California tours were dedicated to the memory of Paul Bryan Gray, an attorney and historian who wrote an award-winning book on the lawsuit between John Forster and his brother Pío Pico, who was the subject of the program the last couple of days. Paul was also the author of another feted book, A Clamor for Equality, a biography of Francisco P. Ramirez, whose turbulent life included four years as a young publisher of the first Spanish-language newspaper in Los Angeles, El Clamor Público.
Ramirez was not far past his 18th birthday and had some experience writing Spanish-language content for the town’s first sheet, the Star, when, with the financial backing of his godfather, Jean-Louis Vignes, a French winemaker, he launched his paper. Calling Ramirez precocious might be a vast understatement, as he spoke English, French and Spanish, had a powerful command of language and writing, and espoused views of classic liberalism that were remarkable in the place and time.
The last half of the 1850s were troubled ones financially on a broad scale and the newspaper business in rural areas was a challenge even in the best of economic times. Moreover, as hard as Ramirez tried to reach Californios and Mexicans through the content of his newspaper, it appeared that he had very limited success, especially given how low literacy as in those communities, and he apparently had more subscribers from the French community, thanks to Vignes, than from Spanish speakers.
Still, he’d just embarked on his project when Mexican Independence Day came on 16 September 1855. Still in the honeymoon stages of his journalistic career and fired with the passions of youth and optimist, Ramirez unleased a notable essay in the 11 September edition on the “Anniversary of Mexican Independence” in which he commented at great length and no small amount of erudition. For instance, he began with:
Nations, like individuals, have their memories of prosperous or adverse days. It is not necessary that they be recorded in the pages of history, nor is it necessary to repeat them every step of the way so that they remain visible in the mind; engraved with indelible characters in the hearts of good citizens, they are never forgotten, and when their anniversary arrives, the memory of the fateful events is bitter, as the memory of the happy ones is pleasant and sweet.
Ramirez continued that such reflection “also happens and with more sincere manifestations, when it comes to well-known facts” and those “whose consequences we can appreciate” over time. While some views of the past might be limited to smaller locales or groups, but, “if the opinion formed is general, it it becomes a common belief, strongly felt, and ardently adopted,” then the force of such a feeling is such that it becomes indelible among the people.
Nothing was so powerful as that of independence, because the people “see in it the dignity of men, and the hope of improving their condition.” There is not just pride, but also “the promise of moral and physical advances” and this motivation means that citizens “pursue it instinctively and relentlessly, even without yet knowing if they will benefit from it.” Even if there had been relative prosperity and security under the rule of another country, “they postpone everything, they trample everything, and, at the risk of turning their joys into calamities, they throw themselves determinedly into the sand, they fight and even die to acquire their freedom.”
The publisher reminded his readers that all societies “on earth have in turn been conquerors or conquered,” though, over time, “when the vanquished gained strength or the victors lost theirs, the former regained their independence.” He added that it was “not necessary that the conquest be made over a different race,” because independence could be sought by those in colonies who were of the same ethnic group with a common language, customs and laws. Such, of course, was the case with the American colony of Great Britain in the previous century.
The youthful essayist argued that independence was not based on property, but insisted in a burst of passionate prose that
The right to escape what is called the yoke can only be founded on reason and justice; in reason and justice, in suffering untold humiliations that have never been remedied; in being continually at the mercy of intolerable masters, who are not concerned with the public good, but rather with despoiling the country to take the harvest to distant lands; in living at the discretion of foreign men, who for this reason mistreat and despise the inhabitants; in receiving all kinds of evils, without obtaining any franchise, any individual security in compensation.
Ramirez went into an extended discussion of conditions in New Spain and, then under independence, México, including the condition of the indigenous people and the “creoles,” presumably the mixed race mulattos or mestizos, which, whatever the terrible treatment suffered under colonial Spanish rule, had, at least, the promise of better conditions under a republican system.
The argument continued that colonial New Spain’s evils were not from legislation or institutions, but “from strange circumstances” in a land far from Europe, so that, “in effect, the climate, the sight of different objects, the influence of the land, a thousand other causes determine that a race, transplanted from its native soil to another soil, acquires different customs, takes on other uses, and becomes peculiar to it, and has needs and tastes that it did not previously have.” The unequal treatment in the colony was, by then, “already so powerful that those who recognized a common origin come to consider themselves in some way as strangers.”
Viceroys in New Spain lacked the power to change much, being usually in the position for only short stretches of time and so, “it was necessary to turn to the sovereign, who, too distant to see the affairs from their true point of view, had to resolve them by hearsay, by the reports of passionate or less perspicacious people, and the resolutions were felt to be light or useless, or very late.”
As to the 16 September commemorations, Ramirez observed that they were held “with the greatest possible pomp” as remembrance of the famed grito of Father Miguel Hidalgo embodied in the common citizen “the promises of hope to improve their social status” and that these “cannot help but awaken pleasant memories, even if they are saddened by the certainty of the little fruit collected.” It was true that not as much was accomplished as intended and much was lost after independence, while the decade of intense warfare left a people “reduced to misery, after having endured long and arduous hours of sadness, tears, acute sufferings.”
Looking at contemporary conditions in the country, the journalist commented that a great deal had changed since 1821, but insisted that “independence is not the cause of their sufferings; It would have brought them incalculable advantages if they had known how to take advantage of it.” There were problems with a lack of experience in public affairs and governance, as well as “the exaggerated pretensions of a few, who, dazzled with brilliant unrealizable theories, wanted to take the nation along different paths that it was not used to taking.”
He went on that,
Such evils are not the work of independence, they are the result of bastard passions, of base inclinations, of ideas not professed in good faith and preached for the benefit of individuals and not the common good. Independence can still produce immense results. It is enough to restore peace; consolidate a strong government that continues to repress criminals with a vigorous hand; a government that is respected and obeyed, and Providence will give them happiness.
As for the inevitable comparisons with the United States, Ramirez noted that, “a great distance separates us from the neighboring Republic, but we always have many among us who remember with joy and exaltation the fight that their country undertook with so many sacrifices to achieve its independence.” When it came to America, he pointed out that “there have been few nations that had such limited resources because they were not as lucky as the United States, which acquired its freedom through the cooperation of France.”
Still, he added, México certainly did not have “more brilliant and glorious pages in its history than those of its independence” and “both September 11 and September 16, are days that encompass in themselves all the pride of a Mexican patriot.” The former date was that in 1829 in which, at the Battle of Tampico, Mexican forces led by General Antonio López de Santa Anna, who had a very complicated legacy in the country over many years, defeated the final Spanish attempt to recapture its former colony.
The next week’s issue of the 18th included an editorial simply titled “September 16th” in which Ramirez wrote that,
When the inhabitants of a despotic nation emigrate to another, invited by the incentives and protection of the laws while the storm passes, and upon arriving there, if they are well treated, they forget the country in which they were born, and, in case of need, they would gladly give his life in defense of his adopted homeland. But the opposite happens when, instead of protecting them, the laws banish them and take away their very subsistence, then they desperately long to see again those green hills and smiling places where they spent the first years of their youth, that unforgettable place that is the object of sweet memories, of innocent games and ecstatic moments of your life! Who is it who doesn’t yearn for his homeland?
The young journalist added that, “when the day of their independence arrives, their hearts are filled with a sacred patriotic love and they freely give themselves over to pleasure and contemplation of the distinguished deeds of their heroes.” Displaying at least some knowledge of Latin and famous Roman writers, Ramirez invoked Cicero in stating that, “the Mexican people have always been cum magna in rebus omnibus, that is, “great in everything,” and although they are mistreated or despised, the spirit of honor and patriotism shines brightly in their soul.”
He added, however, that, “since California came under the power of the United States, the anniversary of Mexican independence had not been celebrated in this city, as it was on the 16th of this year.” It was reported that, “a dance took place in San Fernando in honor of independence” and there reigned the greatest enthusiasm and harmony.” Displaying no small amount of chivalry, as well as more of his purple prose, Ramirez continued that, “angels, beautiful as the sun and in the figure of a woman, gave grace and animation to the dance on Sunday night, and to the splendid banquet that was served with unparalleled munificence.” He concluded that “everything happened in good order, and those who participated in the celebration will always retain pleasant memories of the happy hours they spent at that place.”
In a brief section titled “Weekly Magazine,” the publisher remarked that,
During the past week nothing worth mentioning has happened, except for the dance that took place at Don Pio Pico’s house, in commemoration of the Independence of the Mexican Republic. Messrs. Ruiz and Hernandez were the speakers of the day, and each of them did everything possible to gain the general esteem, and they were greatly applauded. The former’s speech will be seen in another column, but we have not been able to obtain Mr. Hernandez’s, which we would be happy to include.
It seems likely that the San Fernando event could well have been held at the Mission residence of Andrés Pico, late hero of the Californio defense during the American invasion, punctuated by his leadership of a stunning victory in December 1846 at San Pasqual near San Diego, while he also represented his people in the capitulation at Cahuenga early in 1847. In early 1857, Pico led a Californio group in search of a Latino gang which killed Sheriff James R. Barton and posse in what is now Irvine, which made him well-liked by Americans and his election to the state Assembly, where he proposed a division of California, including a southern state to be called “Colorado,” that was adopted and sent to Washington, though the Civil War stalled the movement.
His brother, the governor of the Mexican department of Alta California when the American seizure took place, became a prominent figure in American-era Los Angeles and his residence on the southwestern portion of the Plaza was complemented by a suburban ranch house at the Paso de Bartolo, which he called El Ranchito. In 1862, Don Pío bought the former Mission San Fernando lands held by his brother, who was struggling financially, and, seven years later, sold the 56,000 acres to Isaac Lankershim and used the money to build, where his house stood, the Pico House hotel, completed in 1870, following his Pico Building down Main Street and which was finished two years before.
The Ruiz speech is an interesting one, including his discussion of the era between independence and the defeat of the Spanish at Tampico as well as his reflections on the turbulent history of México since, but we’ll bring an end to this post here and look to future September 16 posts on Mexican Independence Day celebrations in Los Angeles through later parts of the 19th century.