by Paul R. Spitzzeri
The Homestead’s Holiday Open House is next Sunday the 8th from Noon to 4 p.m.—we certainly hope “yule” join us for the festivities—and for this season’s editions of “The Evolution of Christmas” on the blog, we’ll take a look at holiday observations made by Los Angeles newspapers in the 19th century.
It should be noted that for much of that era, the holiday was decidedly less important than the two principal celebrations on the American calendar, these being New Year’s Day and Independence Day. There were some dramatic changes, however, in the last half of the 1800s thanks to growing influences from European immigrants bringing traditions and observations to the country, the work of cartoonists like Thomas Nast in shaping visual impressions; a burgeoning middle class with discretionary income to spend on décor and gifts, and more.
In Los Angeles, the first half of the century was mainly under Spanish and Mexican rule and cultural practices, so Christmas was largely one of religious observance including the attendance of a midnight mass and the presentation of a play based on the efforts of shepherds to visit the infant Jesus in the manger at Bethlehem. There were, however, fiestas with plenty of food, drink and dancing, the latter involving the breaking of cascarones (eggshells filled with perfume or other material) as a way for someone to indicate with whom they wanted to dance.
After the American invasion and seizure of Mexican Los Angeles, these traditions continued for some time, while imported celebrations grew, if modestly, after around 1850. In May 1851, the first newspaper in Los Angeles, the Star, was launched and it was followed during the decade by two others, the Southern Californian, which existed only in 1854-1855, and El Clamor Público, operated by the young and talented Francisco P. Ramirez from 1855-1859.
This post looks at a sampling of references to Christmas in these papers during the Fifties and we’ll carry this theme through the next few Mondays leading up to the holiday. In its “Doings of the Week” column, the Southern Californian of 28 December 1854 reported that “the past week has been one of festivity and rejoicing” and added that “the time honored customs and usages of home have been revived in our midst, and are prevailing to a very flattering extent with our American population,” though what this inferred relative to the majority Spanish-speaking population is not known.
The paper continued that,
Christmas passed off with many evidences of the great estimation in which this anniversary is held. The night previous was enlivened by the constant discharge of fire-arms, which gave our citizens a foretaste of the morrow, which proved to be one of the finest days of the season. Notwithstanding that many of our citizens had gone to the [horse] races at the Mission [San Gabriel], a sufficient number were left to pay ample attention to the good cheer which the hospitality of some of our friends had provided.
Whether it was considered a tradition to fire guns in the air to mark the “anniversary” of the nativity of Christ is an interesting question, as was what percentage of Angeleno men headed out to San Gabriel to indulge what was a common passion among Californios and Anglos for horse racing and the obvious attendant wagering.
The Southern Californian had two proprietors, William Butts and John O. Wheeler and it was added that “we had the honor with many others to partake of a sumptuous entertainment set out by ‘mine host’ of the Bella Union, who ever evinces a nice perception of the true object of holiday festivities.”
As to the Latino population of the Angel City, the paper remarked that “the catholic portion of our community were out in their gala dresses, adding to the general joy and hilarity of the day.” There was, however, one young man wounded, though apparently not seriously, when he was “accidentally shot by the discharge of a small cannon.”
Whether it was a private one or part of the recently opened public school, there was also commentary that “amongst other pleasing sights which we noticed during the day” was the celebration at a school by female students “under the direction of Miss Hays.” Louisa Hayes, sister of District Court Judge Benjamin Hayes and future wife of the prominent physician, John S. Griffin, was the instructor in the girls department of that first public school.
The account continued that “gathered beneath the hospitable roof of B[enjamin] S. Eaton, Esq.,” who a decade or so later purchased land in what became Pasadena for his Fair Oaks Ranch and for whom the well-known canyon is named, “they improved the passing hours in the innocent amusement of the occasion.”
Another holiday event of note occurred at what the Southern Californian called “the amphitheatre,” though this could only have been some clearing in the hills, rather than a formally constructed venue (though it is interesting to ponder this as a primitive precursor to the Hollywood Bowl), where “a respectable audience” was on hand and “witnessed the wonderful feats of the French Hercules.”
This performer, whose real name was not given, regaled the crowd as he “displayed his strength in tossing cannon balls in the air and catching them upon his head, making an anvil of his carcass, wrestling with a diminutive Wild Cat, supporting and discharging a cannon weighing nine hundred pounds, &c.” Finally, it was remarked that the San Gabriel races “passed off with much eclat [brilliant effect or display]” with good weather, a fine track and the excitement of the contests.
In its much more condensed summary of holiday happenings in its edition of 4 January 1855, the Star observed that,
The Christmas and New Year’s festivals are passing away with the usual accompaniments, viz: Bull fights, bell ringing, firing of crackers, fiestas and fandangos.
Much of this referred to the Spanish-speaking Angelenos, as bullfights (and bear-and-bull baiting, in which each animal was tied together and incited to battle to the death) along with the latter two entertainments were reflective of how the majority celebrated. As to setting off firecrackers and ringing bells, those, presumably, were more of general interest.
Down at the rudimentary port at San Pedro, the paper noted that “the reunion of the b’hoys,” which term generally meant young working-class men of a “rough and tumble” character, “was a spirited affair, and passed off with the usual good feeling.” The italicizing of the word in the quote was a very thinly disguised reference to the copious consumption of alcoholic drinks, perhaps the notorious aguardiente, or brandy, generated by local winemakers.
Out at “the Monte,” or El Monte, in the San Gabriel Valley, several miles west of where the Workman family resided, and where the “Monte Boys” engaged in regional rough justice during the period (exceptional for its violence,) some refinement was reflected in the Star‘s reference to a “Christmas cotillion party” which “was well attended by the elite of that thriving locality.” It was noted that “the dancing and feasting, and gymnastic exercises continued till morning.”
Returning to the Latino population of the Angel City, the paper commented that “cascarones commanded a premium, and many were complimented with them as a finishing touch to their head dress.” As to the onset of 1855, the article concluded with the remark that “we believe it rather an auspicious commencement . . . and sincerely hope it will be a happy one to our friends and patrons.”
For the year 1856, the only located reference was from the Star of 22 December which very briefly informed readers that “the Ball to be given at the Willow Grove House, in the Monte,” this being at the east end of the community along today’s Valley Boulevard and was where John Rowland and his second wife Charlotte Gray were wedded four years prior, “is intended to be the most recherche [highly refined] of the season.” It was added that Ira Thompson, the hotel’s proprietor, was to be sure to see to “the pleasure and comfort of his guests.”
The earliest found advertisement by a merchant for the holiday came in the 6 December edition of the paper and this was Charles Ducommun (1820-1896), a native of Switzerland and a watchmaker who sailed to the United States in 1841 and lived in New York, Mobile in Alabama, and other places. Learning of the California Gold Rush, Ducommun traveled overland, but ended up settling in Los Angeles.
He opened a jewelry and hardware store at the northeast corner of Main and Commercial streets, just south of where U.S. 101 traverses downtown today, and his ad, promoting his holiday inventory, told readers that he “has just received an immense addition to his stock of TOYS AND FANCY GOODS, comprising everything that could be desired suitable for Holiday Presents.”
This early reference to Christmas presents, as well as those for the new year, that being a common practice at the time, in the local press was accompanied by Ducommun’s boast that “his stock is the most extensive ever opened here, and should be visited to be duly appreciated.” Given his background, it was not surprise that there was particular emphasis on “a large assortment of Gold Watches, Chains, Rings, and Jewelry of every description.”
The edition of El Clamor Público, issued two days after Christmas, included the remarks, characteristic of the deep thought and remarkable expressiveness of its proprietor, who was just 19 years old, that,
The Nativity day of Our Lord Jesus Christ was duly celebrated in the Catholic Church [the Plaza Church still standing today]. This is the only day in which all the world celebrates with equal joy and all religions consecrate their prayers to the Supreme Maker for the coming into the world of our Savior. This is the time when one forgets all the labors and hardships of this life; friendships are renewed; presents are given and received; one is blindly abandoned to pleasures; and in the depths of the soul feels an ineffable ray of divine intelligence that makes us happier and stronger in entering the vast empire of the future.
The Star of the same date offered reflections on the late holiday, observing that “the festival has passed over here with all the concomitants [the natural or expected elements] usual to the season.” It continued that, in the Angel City, “the good things of this life flowed with abundance—pleasure parties and dinners, where the richest and rarest delicacies loaded the board,” while celebrants danced “and all went merry as a marriage bell—or as the most enthusiastic admirers of this time-honored festival could desire.”
In a passage redolent of Charles Dickens, however, the paper turned to ask, “what other sound is that we hear?” and then inquired, “amidst this joy and revelry, does the cry of pain, of poverty, or anguish float on the night breeze also?” Moreover, the Star beseeched its readers, “is there a single member of our small community,” the population probably being several thousand, “left, unheeded, to writhe in agony, whilst a few dollars, from the public purse, could restore him to ease and comfort, if not to health and prosperity?”
This was an era of very low taxation on real property, with most of the meager proceeds going towards the administration, such as it was during a period of great tension among the major ethnic groups often spilling over into spasms of stunning violence, of criminal justice and no hospital in town. The paper printed a Christmas Eve letter sent by “N. Williamson,” who stated that, not quite two years earlier, he was (it was March 1855) shot through the hips in an accident at a gold mine near the Kern River to the north of Los Angeles that left him unable to sit up, much less walk, and he added “[I] never shall, unless I can have a Surgical operation performed.”
Williamson understood that the Board of Supervisors recently passed an act prohibiting payment to any doctor of more than $50 on any individual and “as that amount has long since been paid out for me,” he was forced “to grin and bear it.” Adding that he’d been lying in his home for more than a year when all it would take was “thirty minutes work of a good Surgeon [which] would relieve me of my suffering,” the correspondent attempted some grim humor by observing, “I had no business to have been born; but I was so little I could not help it.”
Williamson went on to inform the county’s governing body that “it has been six months since you made any appropriation to pay my board,” while an unidentified man appointed to see after him “has never been to see me in the past year” despite the injured man’s exertions to get the caretaker to visit. His landlord, a man named Sheldon, was also not recompensed for taking him in for half a year and, in his frustration, if not sarcasm, the invalid suggested,
As you have neither the means nor the inclination to get them, I would suggest the propriety, as you have the legal authority to dispose of such invalids as in your wisdom you think fit, to appoint some person or persons to come and take me out and put me to death, as it would rid me of any more suffering, and yourselves of any further trouble or expense.
Williamson pondered why the supervisors provided for the incarceration of persons in jail and inquired, “am I any less entitled to a support than the thieves, robbers and murderers of our county?” He then mused that he might as well go out and kill someone so that he could have a place to stay and medical care, as he added that cities throughout the country had hospitals and asylums, so pointedly asked: “Why should Los Angeles be an exception?”
For its part, the Star followed by exhorting the supervisors: “In the name, and for the sake of that God of charity and love, whose birthday we have been engaged in celebrating . . . take action in this case at once.” That failing, the paper asked that a subscription for Williamson be undertaken “to procure means to have the above unfortunate individual removed to the State hospital.”
In its next issue, that of 3 January 1857, the paper reported that a resident known only as “E.H.F.” sent the paper $20 “to alleviate the sufferings” of Williamson, while Dr. Griffin, assisted by two other physicians, performed an operation that was hoped to mitigate the pain and lead to the patient’s recovery. A subscription list, developed by resident John D. Yates, raised $120 within a couple of hours.
The 14 April edition of the Star printed a letter from Williamson, writing from San Francisco, thanking Angelenos for their financial assistance in getting him to the Sisters of Mercy Hospital, where surgery was conducted and apparently successful, despite “the predictions of the self-styled surgeons of our town” as to his future prognosis.
We’ll return next week with the next post in this “The Evolution of Christmas” series pertaining to Christmas references in early Los Angeles newspapers, so be sure to check back then!
During my childhood, I learned about Christmas primarily through the used Christmas cards shared among us at church. The typical imagery featured Santa driving his sleigh through snow-covered mountains and tree-lined roads, with brightly lit houses nearby or in the distance. Over the decades, however, these silent and holy scenes have gradually faded. Fewer homes are decorated for the season, and fewer people are engaged in traditional festivities with food, drinks and activities. Additionally, devastating climate change has ruined many snowy landscapes.
I believe the scenes depicted on those Christmas cards weren’t merely imaginative; rather, they reflected the real lives and “good old days” of a bygone America. Today, as the middle class continues to dwindle, economic pressures have relentlessly stripped away many ordinary joys from ordinary people.
If Thomas Nast were alive today and tasked with portraying Santa to reflect our current society, we might no longer see him in his iconic red suit with fur trims and a booming “Ho Ho Ho.” Instead, we might see a Santa in T-shirt and shorts, pushing a shopping cart filled with gifts out of a tent, sighing while walking in the sweltering heat, muttering “Hot Hot Hot.”