“America Shall Be the Pride and Boast of the Free, the Queen of the Earth”: Celebrations of the American Centennial in Los Angeles, 1876, Part Seven

by Paul R. Spitzzeri

As we wrap up our delving into the purple prose of lawyer James G. Eastman’s oration at Los Angeles’ celebration of the Centennial festivities on the Fourth of July 1876, and having observed his pointed comments about the duties and responsibilities of citizenship relative to American democracy, as well as his railing against the corruption of his time, we turn to the remainder of his remarks, including a section that reflected another common concern among many Angelenos of the era.

After his critique of corruption, apparently directed toward Washington, D.C., where President Ulysses S. Grant’s administration was mired in all manner of controversy, Eastman told the crowd gathered at the Round House, a fanciful circular adobe structure with a widely known garden situated on Main Street just south of 2nd Street, that there was “another duty of great magnitude which we should carefully consider and faithfully discharge, and the neglect of which threatens the most disastrous consequences.”

References to Centennial ice cream and large quantities of soda water quaffed by “thirsty patriots” celebrating in Los Angeles on Independence Day, Los Angeles Express, 6 July 1876.

Eastman took his time in specifying the target of his rhetoric and eased slowly into it by adding, “I refer to the necessity of protecting ourselves from the contaminating influence of political and moral skepticism, resulting from the immigration . . . of those who believe in no government but a despotism, and no moral obligation beyond fealty to a monarch.” The orator remarked that some Americans believed “that our invitation to the people of every clime to join in our great [democratic] enterprise and participate in the work of glory our fathers inaugurated should be withdrawn,” in other words, limit, restrict or ban immigration.

The speaker remarked that “this is in part true, in part false” because he observed that “our present greatness as a nation is attributable to the mixed elements of worth which the fascination of our theory [of government] has drawn from the world.” What was key for Eastman was that this involve “the better class” of migrants, but this meant those of that element coming from a specific part of the world.

Headlines on the Battle of Little Bighorn, Los Angeles Star, 6 July 1876.

He invoked “the ingenious Swiss, the practical Englishman, the polished Frenchman, the philosophic German, the gallant Spaniard, the busy country-loving Irishman, and the sturdy Swede,” that is, most Europeans (though we can assume he wasn’t advocating for keeping our Danes, Norwegians, Belgians, Italians or others, but who knows?) The key for Eastman was that these were “bringing the peculiar characteristics of climate, birth, education, skill and surroundings, and a devoted admiration for our governmental system.” To these people, the idea of restriction was a false one, opined the orator, who continued,

To them and their descendants, now and forever, and to all who come with brain or muscle or skill to enjoy the blessings of our government because they believe in its principles, and love its doctrines, and desire to contribute to its success, the invitation is irrevocable, and the doors are forever open. They are brothers in blood, in thought, in aspiration and inheritance.

Eastman then asserted that “there is another class, with regard to which, this theory is true” and these were “a pagan element wedded to monarchy, devoted to idolatry, despising our institutions, hating our civilization, spitting upon our social system, laughing at our patriotism . . . and demoralizing our people.” It was to these, he thundered, “against whom the gates should be at once and for all time closed.”

The preface of the Centennial history of Los Angeles County, Express, 14 July 1876.

The time came for the speaker to finally address his intended subject, as he insisted, in incendiary rhetoric that should certainly give us pause today, as at any time since 1876, that, and this was not quite five years after the horrific lynching of a teen and 17 Chinese men by a mob of Latinos and Anglos in Los Angeles in October 1871,

This grand continent, with its civilization, and wondrous development, its cultivated valleys and happy homes, is not the lap into which China may spew its criminals and paupers, its invalids and idiots, its surplus and moral leprosy. Now, at once, in a manner respecting all law, and becoming the dignity of a great nation, must they be made to understand, not only that their presence is unwelcome, but, that their further immigration will not be tolerated. Let the world to-day know that none are entitled to permanent seats in the temple of liberty who are not willing communicants at her altar.

After reminding his hearers of the myriad duties of citizenship which involved “influence upon all that is useful, grand and good” while also attesting that “every triumph of art, of science, or of literature which is achieved under the broad liberality of the American system, is a triumph in which we are all participants—a glory in which we are all contributors,” Eastman then proclaimed that there was one subject of “paramount importance” that had to be mentioned.

News of the failure of the Centennial committee to provide for publication of the history, which was issued in November by Louis Lewin and Company, Express, 19 July 1876.

This concerned the Civil War, which he called “the late unhappy struggle which shook our continent” and which involved “years of blood, the desolated homes, new-made graves . . . those sad, sad pages of our history.” It was vital, he continued, that there should be “the duty of establishing and maintaining a more exalted standard of American nationality—a more comprehensive brotherhood—a more universal love.” Eastman then posed the question: “Have we not been negligent in that cultivation of near acquaintance which alone can bind, unite and cement a nation?”

The speaker lamented the sectionalism the rent the country into two with the war, but also declaimed the idea of further divisions, intoning that it was “disastrous to our peace, and destructive of our harmony” to speak of North, South, East or West. The result was “the bloodiest war in history, threatening the overthrow of our government, and the final downfall of republican institutions,” but Eastman offered the hope that Americans could learn the lesson “from this sorrowful chapter” that would lead to “a more united and national aspiration, a feeling of more perfect oneness.”

Star owner Benjamin C. Truman’s report on his arrival in the East preliminary to the Centennial exposition celebration of the 4th in the paper’s edition of the 16th.

Remarking that Americans should “fully realize that our greatness is dependent upon our harmony” and that what was mandated was the “sacrifice of all that will imperil our national growth or our national liberty,” he called for “a broad and statesmanlike intelligence and faith” developed from a better way to instruct citizens about our democratic system of government. Eastman exhorted that,

We must not educate simply in art, science, mechanism [technology?], or social and classic literature [history, anyone?], but in the science of government, the meaning of our constitution, the importance of its perpetuity, the concessions and compromises born of charity, and incident to a democratic form of government.

Sectionalism betrayed these ideas and only development of the entirety of the United States could constitute “the keystone of all systems of national policy.” Eastman suggested pilgrimages to the final resting places of those who “ever rose to the true dignity of American statesmanship and counseled for all, yea for all, and let us return robed in the mantle of their patriotism.” Referring evidently to the festivities at Philadelphia, the speaker gave thanks that veterans of the late war “are marching hand in hand with one heart, one hope, one flag and one destiny.”

Truman’s report on the festivities of the 4th in the City of Brotherly Love, Star, 16 July 1876.

After claiming that he sought to avoid “the pollution of an hour so sacred by a display of rhetoric or idle words,” Eastman indulged in a bit of purple prose as he described “the sun, kissing the night, and sinking to rest upon its bosom, lulled by the murmuring waves of our own mighty [Pacific] ocean” and hope that “we shall have been drawn . . . nearer the fountain of political truth” much less attend to our mandated duties as citizens.

With the speech coming to a close, Eastman posited the idea of countries being called into account before “the great Founder and Ruler of all governments,” with England’s commerce and political attainments, France’s intellectual refinements, Spain’s music and conquests, Germany’s learning, philosophy and “grand poetry,” and Italy, left out above, but here with “her ages of music and art, all approaching the pearly gates. Yet, it was America that, “robed in equal rights, radiant with universal love and liberty” would step up to the “throne Divine” and present “the trophies of peace and the benediction of mankind” and, thereby, “be crowned with the approval of the Everlasting God!”

Patriotic numbers of eucalyptus trees were planted near San Fernando by attorney and farmer Christopher N. Wilson, Express, 15 July 1876.

Just prior to this, however, the orator offered a sentiment that bears reproducing because it is about as representative of the attitude of exceptionalism that has long pervaded American thought, speech and action, especially at the United States was poised to ascend as a dominant world power, economically, militarily and politically:

Sir, we are now a great people, standing at the head of the governments of the world. Our navy floats in every water, in all progress that characterizes civilization we bow to none. In all that tends to make a nation great, we have made a glorious history. True, some of its pages bear the stain of tears and blood, and evidence of our follies finds a place upon the record. Yet it is grand as human record ever has been, and if we profit by the lessons our follies have taught us, devote our lives and intelligence to the establishment of a higher nationality, a broader patriotism, a more self-sacrificing devotion to our common country, when, in another century, our children’s children shall meet to celebrate our governmental birth, America shall be the pride and boast of the free, the queen of the earth.

These are lofty sentiments almost certainly in keeping with much that was pronounced that day in speeches across the country, though it was not likely that, outside of California, with perhaps a few exceptions, other Centennial and Independence Day orations addressed the perceived threat of Chinese immigration.

This and the remaining three images are from the Star, 6 July 1876.

Eastman’s acidic vitriol was very much in line with attitudes throughout the Golden State as anti-Chinese sentiment was galvanized by such movements as the Workingmen, leading to the provision of Article 19 of the Constitution of 1879, which banned Chinese employment by private companies and in public works (except those in jails and prisons) and delegated to local authority the ability to evict or segregate the Chinese, while also planning for more legislation ban their migration into the state. In 1882, Congress passed the Chinese Exclusion Act, the first such ban in American history.

Yet, the oration obviously prioritized Europeans (though many Americans retained hard prejudices against Catholics and Southern and Eastern Europeans) as worthy of sharing in the manifold benefits of American democracy. It cannot be doubted that Eastman’s definition of acceptable immigrants would exclude anyone from Africa, Asia, the Indian subcontinent, and Polynesia, as well.

As for people of color born within the confines of the United States, the 14th and 15th amendments to the Constitution were not quite a decade old. The former, granting citizenship to former Black slaves as well to those born or naturalized in the country, was just reaffirmed by the Supreme Court, but not without significant dissent from three justices, while a fourth offered mixed views. The latter was largely neutralized in the South under Jim Crow, especially following Reconstruction, and the Voting Rights Act of 1965, nearly a century later, was passed to finally remove barriers to vote because of ethnicity or race, though recent Supreme Court rulings have been rendered to reduce its provisions.

These amendments largely concerned the status of African Americans, while the indigenous people of the United States were experiencing catastrophic population decrease, the continued loss of land, economic privation and more. Significantly, the same issue of the Star of the 6th that included the coverage of the local Centennial celebration and Eastman’s oration, related the news by Western Union telegraph of the Battle of Little Bighorn, which took place on 25-26 June and involved the annihilation of some 274 soldiers of the United States Army’s 7th Cavalry by members of four Indian tribes, whose losses totaled much fewer, though the exact number is debated. A result was more emphasis by the American government on moving native peoples to reservations, while continuing wars culminated in the 1890s massacre at Wounded Knee.

Other major events of 1876 included the introduction of the telephone by Alexander Graham Bell, the completion of the Southern Pacific’s rail line to Los Angeles from the north and the controversy of the presidential election in November (for the Workman and Temple family, the July bankruptcy filing of F.P.F. Temple further showed their financial collapse following the closure of the Temple and Workman bank at the start of the year). The first, of course, revolutionized communication far beyond what the telegraph achieved. The second helped break down the physical barriers of relative isolation for the Angel City and its environs, though this was further ameliorated when a direct transcontinental line, built by the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe, was completed to the region in late 1885, which directly led to the Boom of the Eighties and a new phase of our local development.

The election, pitting Democrat Samuel Tilden against Republican Rutherford B. Hayes, came down to the former being just one electoral vote shy of victory, but several states had serious issues in their counts. In the end, an electoral commission of members of Congress was created to determine the outcome and, along party lines, an 8-7 vote decided the election of Hayes just before Inauguration Day. Reconstruction, which involved Black participation in Southern politics, but which was largely weakened on a number of fronts, including Democratic control and the lack of funding to enforce provisions, was officially ended by Hayes. The timing, amid the Centennial and all of the expressions of equality, opportunity, universal love in speeches like those of Eastman, is certainly important to note.

Contested elections, anti-immigrant rhetoric, economic problems, political corruption, the rise of the industrial Gilded Age and its so-called “Robber Barons”—these are just some of the elements of 1876 America that readily bear comparison and contrast to our time as we mark the 250th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence, the foundational document of our nation. One wonders what will take place with the Tricentennial of 2076 and what the state of our country and its democracy will be, as well as what role history will have then and in the half-century yet to come.

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