Food for Thought: Some History of Mexican Restaurants in Greater Los Angeles, 1875-1900, Part Three

by Paul R. Spitzzeri

As the 19th century entered its final decade, conditions in greater Los Angeles included the boom and bust of the last half of the 1880s and the Nineties including a national depression in 1893 and several years of drought, so that “hard time” were experienced by many locals, though there continued to be significant population growth.

In the years covering this post, the increase in Angel City residents was close to ten times, so that the 1880 federal census (and censuses are generally undercounted) recorded not much over 11,000 persons, but this grew to a bit over 50,000 a decade later and to more than 102,000 as the century closed. At the county level the figures were, respectively, around 33,000, 101,000 and 170,000.

Most of these newcomers were Anglos and, mainly, Americans, with huge influxes of folks from the middle part of the United States, while Latino migration was very small (at least until the Mexican revolution of 1910 and into the Roaring Twenties). A “Latino Los Angeles Historic Context Statement” from 2015 records that there were 2,166 persons in this broad ethnic category in 1880 and this was fewer than 100 more than two decades prior. Because of a fire that destroyed nearly all of the 1890 census materials, it is not known what the numbers were for that year, while, in 1900, the total was estimated to be between 3-5,000.

Notably, there was a striking change in terminology during this period in emphasizing “Spanish” instead of “Mexican”, happening, likely, for several reasons. A key one was the rising emphasis on romantic representations of the pre-American periods, emanating from such sources as Helen Hunt Jackson’s massively popular 1884 novel, Ramona, as well as work by Charles Lummis, who came to Los Angeles the following year, and his Landmarks Club of Southern California, Mrs. A.S.C. (Harrye) Forbes through her mission bell markers for El Camino Real and others.

The irony was that this was done after and amid concerted efforts to efface physical representations of the Spanish and Mexican eras; the concentrations (barrioization) of Latinos into neighborhoods like Los Angeles’ Sonoratown and portions of other towns where laborers, such as farmworkers, were limited to areas along railroad tracks and on the outskirts; and processes of Americanization for the foreign-born, in which they were pushed to dispense with cultural traditions of their homelands.

The word “Spanish,” moreover, evoked European qualities, which entailed a more desirable identification than “Mexican,” though the brief Spanish-American War of 1898, during which the United States seized Cuba and the Philippines, while also annexing the Kingdom of Hawai’i, instituted, for a period, a backlash against anything “Spanish.” This led local Latinos to go to significant lengths to demonstrate their patriotism, including the formation of “Spanish-American” leagues and clubs (Walter P. Temple did this while residing in the Whittier Narrows area).

We saw in part two an interesting article about food in México, from the perspective of an American expatriate, but, in its 9 July 1892 issue, the Los Angeles Herald, under the title of “Gastronomic Marvels,” looked at the regional scene, observing that, and note the reference to Spanish/Mexican eateries, as well as contracts to European cookways:

The bon vivant who has been accustomed to the French and Italian cooking of the restaurants of the east will find in Southern California a comprehensive and interesting field for study in the cuisine of the Spanish, or rather Mexican restaurants. Certainly here he will be enabled to find a number of gastronomic marvels that are not known to the chefs of the cordon bleu.

The article continued that, “the Spanish dishes of Southern California are distinctive and peculiar to this section” because “the original Spanish character” was transmuted by “a combination of Mexican and Indian ideas” leading to “a distinctive school of cookery.” While there was mention of “a number of restaurateurs of Los Angeles who embody the bulk of knowledge in this field” and they were said to “know all that is worth knowing on the subject,” they were not identified. Moreover, none of the restaurants in the Angel City were named.

So, it was observed that “one gentleman has made a good deal of research as to the origin of the tamale” and posited that “it is of Indian origin” and then “engrafted on Spanish-Mexican cookery in the old days,” but it certainly would be helpful to modern historians to know the identity of this expert.

In any case, the piece remarked, presumably to white women readers, that, “Mexican dishes naturally will prove of interest to the housewife in search of novelties for the table.” These included albondigas soup; carne seca; chili con carne; which, notably, was thought to be akin to Hungarian goulash; frijoles; enchiladas; and tamales. Some of the ingredients and elements of preparation were included, though not detailed recipes.

It was commented that “one of the prime dishes of the Mexican menu is the enchiladas, and when one has acquired a taste for these dainties, he would willingly walk ten miles to dinner as a preparatory,” while it was added that “the dish is one fit for the gods.” The article concluded that, “of course, everyone knows the composition of the beef or chicken tamale, so it would be a work of supererogation [more than is needed] to give a recipe.” For those of us today reading this article, however, it would be a work of erogation, or bestowing some good historical information, if the writer had done so.

As to Angel City Mexican restaurants of the Nineties, there were at least two holdovers from the prior decade. Guillermo Moreno, mentioned in part three and who provided food for the Mexican Independence Day celebration of September 1888, may have been the individual of that name who worked as a waiter in Los Angeles in 1875 when, at 19, he was convicted of grand larceny and served two years at San Quentin State Prison. When he registered to vote in 1879, as William Moreno, the 24-year old listed “waiter” as his occupation.

A 10 August 1892 advertisement in the Herald for G. Moreno’s “FIRST-CLASS Spanish Restaurant” claimed that if offered “the best Spanish means in the state” as well as “polite service,” while it was noted that “two hours’ time [is] required for special ordered meals,” presumably meaning for catering. Moreno identified as “the leading Spanish cook” with a list of dishes including albondigas, carne con chile, carne seca, enchiladas, frijoles con queso (beans with cheese), gallina la espanola (Spanish chicken), sebollas rellenadas (onions stuffed with beef), and tortillas.

Shortly afterward, Moreno relocated about a block further north on Upper Main Street (today’s North Main above the Plaza is a reworked thoroughfare in the area) and an ad in the Los Angeles Citizen at the end of the year included his claim that “The Best Meals of any Restaurant in the City [Are] Served in this Place,” at 25 cents and more. Private rooms for women were available, menudo was served on Saturdays and Sundays and the hours, notably, were from 7 a.m. to 1 p.m. Moreno was listed in the 1893 city directory as operating the restaurant at the new location, but nothing was found subsequently for him.

Ismael Durazo’s eatery also transitioned from the 1880s to the Nineties and was very near that of Moreno on Upper Main. As with his competitor, Durazo was previously a waiter, dating back to the late Seventies (when he was naturalized as an American citizen, his sponsor was the well-known Black Angeleno, Lewis G. Green, the first of his race to vote in the city after the 1870 passage of the 15th Amendment to the Constitution), while in the mid-Eighties he held this position in the prominent restaurant owned by Jerry Illich at Main and 1st streets, probably working at the place until at least 1888 and then opening his place in Sonoratown.

Durazo’s place was mentioned in the Los Angeles Times of 19 February 1897 reported that two white men entered his “Spanish restaurant on North Main street” and tried to steal his pocketwatch. The owner managed to fend them off, detaining one for the police, while officers arrested the second man—the two resided in the lodging house, kept by a white woman, above the eatery and reported that articles were missing from her place, including a large clock.

An advertisement in El Monitor in its 16 July 1898 edition for the Restaurant Mexicana noted that it was operated by Ismael Durazo y Compañía claimed that it was “the only of its class in Los Angeles” and that it was “where you can eat in true Mexican style.” Listed dishes were albondigas, carne seca, chile relleno, enchiladas and tamales, while orders for delivery were available, as were “magnificent furnished rooms” for out-of-town visitors.

The last located reference for the place was in the Herald of the day following Independence Day 1899, it was stated that Durazo’s son and two others, “known to the police” as “hoodlums,” attached fishhooks and lighted firecrackers” to the coat of a diner at the establishment. Shortly afterward, Durazo died and the restaurant looks to have closed.

An unusual reference to this eatery was in the 5 November 1892 issue of the recently-launched newspaper, Las Dos Republicas, which emerged from the ashes of the long-running La Crónica, last owned by Thomas W. Temple, son of Antonia Margarita Workman and F. P. F. Temple, and, after his death earlier in the year, was operated briefly by his wife, Nettie, before she closed it. A piece called “THE TEACHER AT HOME” appeared to be an ad disguised as a language lesson as it included this portion:

En cual restaurant come vd.—ayn cool-ahl res-tau-rant coh-may uhs-tayd.

In which restaurant do you take your meals

En el restaurant mexicano de Ismael Durazo.—Ayn ehl restaurant may-hee-cah-noh day Ismael Durazo.

In the Mexican restaurant of Ismael Durazo.

En donde está ese restaurant.

Ayn don-day ays-tah eh-say res-tau-rant.

Where is that restaurant,

Esta en la calle Principal, cerca del Pico House.—Ehs-tah ayn lah cahl-ye preen-thi-pal, cer-cah dehl Pico House.

There were several Mexican eateries that opened in the city and region in 1893-1894, despite the hard times engendered by the national financial depression. One was operated, albeit briefly, by José M. Abarta (1855-1917), who was born in Los Angeles to Isabella Rada and William Money, the latter a highly eccentric native of Scotland discussed in a prior post here. Later, Isabella married Pedro Abarta (Abartachipy, a Basque from France), who ran a saloon among other occupations.

José, whose sister Lastenia was the defendant in one of the most famous criminal trials in 19th century Los Angeles as extensively covered here in a multi-part post, ran his establishment at the corner of Temple and Buena Vista (formerly Eternity Street, because it ran to the Calvary Catholic cemetery at the base of the Elysian Hills, and then North Broadway). The location of the restaurant was the adobe house formerly occupied by the Bilderrain family and a prior post here shows the dwelling in an 1870s photo from the Museum’s collection.

An advertisement for Abarta’s “Restaurant mexicano” in Las Dos Republicas of 21 January 1893 announced that “at this establishment you will always find renowned Mexican dishes such as enchiladas, chile relleno, etc.,” while rooms were available for families—the Bilderrain adobe, obviously, offering these additional spaces.

In the 22 July edition of the Herald it was reported that “a delightful little dinner was given at Abarta’s Spanish restaurant,” note the alternate, seemingly interchangeable, title, “at 12 o’clock yesterday, by Justice Bartholomew to a few of his friends, including federal court bailiff and interpreter Ralph J. Dominguez (whose family were owners of the Rancho San Pedro, south of te city), the under-sheriff, deputy county clerk, a constable and others.

The article recorded that,

The dishes were served as only Abarta knows how, and the guests showed due appreciation of each course as it made its appearance and revelled in a true California dinner of the olden time. As the minutes rolled on the fun grew apace, and the jokes and repartee of the gallant justice produced unbounded merriment.

The menu was also reproduced and included soup with cheese, salsa fresca with chile, onion and tomato, albondigas soup, carne con chile, carne seca, chile relleno, enchiladas, frijoles, Spanish omelette, tamales, coffee and “the wine of the realm.” Despite the coverage and praise for the meal and Abarta’s abilities as a restaurateur, it does not look like his place survived the year.

Two other eateries found in the Angel City in 1893 were the Spanish Restaurant of Señora F. Murrillo, this possibly being Frances (Francisca?) Murillo, born in México in 1850 and who later ran a grocery store in the Boyle Heights section of Los Angeles. The proprietor, advertising in the Revista Hispano Americana of 19 March, promoted “magnificent meals” for patrons, including albondigas, enchiladas, menudos and tamales, as well as Italian macaroni and ravioli dishes and fish in a French style. Notably, her establishment was southeast of the Plaza and Sonoratown, located on Commercial Street and Wilmington Avenue, now San Pedro Street, about where the federal buildings are situated now.

In the fall opened the Southern Spanish Restaurant, owned first by Juan Ortiz and Company and then, within several weeks, operated by Patrocinio de Molina, and located at 666 Upper Main Street in Sonoratown. The eatery promoted Spanish, American and all styles of food and kept hours from 5 a.m. to 10 p.m., while adding the catchy phrase “order what you want and pay for what you eat.” It, too, looks to have existed only for that last part of the year.

1893 also found reference to a Spanish restaurant, though with no name, indication of owner, or location, in Santa Ana. The Santa Ana Standard of 9 October 1897, in its “Local News” brief notices, observed that “B.C. Sepulveda,” this family being of long-standing and prominence in what became Orange County under a decade before, “has fitted up a Spanish restaurant on north Sycamore street,” presumably north of 1st street in the county seat. The end of the decade brought another brief mention of a Mexican restaurant on West 3rd Street in Pomona, but with no information about it.

While Señora Murillo may not have run her place very long, a new restaurant opened in that vicinity, as a brief notice in the Herald of 31 October 1894 mentioned a “Spanish Restaurant” with “meals to order, $1 to $2.50” and a regular dinner for a half-dollar were available at 322 Wilmington Street, which would be on San Pedro near the intersection of 3rd Street in what today is Little Tokyo. Though no owner was mentioned, see below for our concluding discussion of the proprietor.

The following year were two other media reference with scant information. The Herald of 18 January 1895 reported that “a very unique and delightful Spanish dinner” for a party of a dozen Anglos, including Edwin T. Earl, a capitalist who was best known as owner of the Los Angeles Express, was served “at one of the Spanish restaurants for which Los Angeles is famous,” though, this being so, why the name of the eatery wasn’t given is a bit of a puzzle.

The 2 December number of the Herald covered a “LIVELY SUNDAY NIGHT FIRE” that “was discovered in the rear of a small ten-cent Spanish restaurant near the southwest corner of Fourth and Spring streets, in a row of wooden structures owned by John Jones.” The article continued that “no one seemed to know the name of the keeper of the place, beyond the fact that he was called ‘Frank’ [likely Francisco].” The losses were pegged at $500, but the paper opined that there wasn’t much value in any of the buildings, which looked to have been about where the Trust Building (Title Insurance and Trust), completed in 1928, stands now next to a parking lot on that southwest corner.

In the last few years of the Nineties, El Famoso Spanish Restaurant operated, with Mrs. P. Yorba as proprietor. Piedad Yorba (1864-1948) was a granddaughter of Bernardo Yorba, owner of much of northeastern Orange County in the Yorba Linda area, and Felipa Dominguez. She was married to Carlos Argüello, who was from a prominent San Diego family, but divorced him in August 1897, a few months after an ad for El Famoso was taken out in the Times of 2 May. The eatery was first in a house on Broadway north of 1st Street, next to where the Los Angeles County Law Library is now.

In February 1898, El Famoso was the subject of a controversy covered by the Herald and Times because the Monte Cristo Club, composed of Latino men, had a dinner there, but refused to pay, claiming the food was not of very high quality, though the organization, after being sued, claimed that a collection was taken up to pay her but the member who gathered the funds was “guilty of malfeasance in high office, for he blew in the $9,” charged by Señora Yorba. The former paper, in its edition of the 6th, observed that the restaurant was

where chile con carne, albondigas and other mysterious, albeit toothsome, compounds of the Mexican cuisine are dispensed with a liberal hand for the modest sum of two bits [25 cents] per person . . . the banquet was out of sight. There was lobster salad, soup, carne con chile, frijoles con gueso [queso or cheese], tamales and tortillas. [After mentioning wine and cognac for libations and music] When it was all over, Mrs. Yorba began to wonder where she came in . . . after consuming all the viands placed upon the groaning board, being helped therein by five pretty senoritas, the club withdrew without settling for the hash.

Nothing was located as to any adjudication of the dispute and, in April 1899, El Famoso relocated to 3rd Street west of Broadway where the city parking violations bureau operates now. As the decade and century closed, Señora Yorba continued operating her restaurant, with two children, two siblings (a sister, Carrie, worked as a server and a brother, Eustojio, helped run the place) and a waiter in the household on the premises.

In 1902, El Famoso relocated to Main just north of 6th, where a parking lot is today, and, as the city was cracking down on liquor dispensed without a license, Piedad was said to be in the sights of the police for ordinance violations. Another move was made to Hill Street, south of 2nd, now the site of a parking structure and a June 1904 article about a small property owned by her late father mentioned that she had frequent financial struggles as she’d moved to yet another site.

In 1905, remarried to Charles Sowl, a boarder at her home (though they soon separated), Piedad Yorba moved to Glendale and, partnering with the Pacific Electric Railway opened Casa Verdugo, which became a very prominent Mexican restaurant for more than three decades. The link is for a very detailed and interesting post on the “Paradise Leased” blog which traces the remarkable story of the restaurant and Piedad Yorba de Sowl.

Lastly, another woman entrepreneur concludes our post, this being Eloisa Sánchez de Gutierrez (1857-1941). In 1879, she married Luis A. Gutierrez in Santa Barbara, which appears to be where she was born and raised, but the couple soon settled in Los Angeles, where he was a store clerk. Luis died in 1892 and shortly afterward, Eloisa opened the eatery in a cottage at Wilmington (San Pedro Street) near 3rd that was mentioned above in the October 1894 advertisement.

Señora Gutierrez’ tenure at the restaurant was about four years, but very stormy and frequently newsworthy. The Herald of 31 May 1896 reported that, the prior night, “a woman with a heavy shawl wrapped around her head rushed into the police station and, uncovering her face, displayed a cut over the eye,” caused, she stated, from being hit by a patron with the butt of his pistol.

The 29 May 1897 number of the Times noted that she filed suit over a $3,000 “board bill” amassed by the late John Wilson with his administrator, John P. Moran, the defendant, though it is known what the adjudication of the matter entailed. The following year was one of significant controversy, including another reported attack on 13 May by a druggist, Arturo Oreña, in which Señora Gutierrez’ eyes were blackened and marks made on her cheeks. Apparently, he accused her of being pro-Spanish amid the fervor of the aforementioned Spanish-American War, while she alleged her ordered her to take down an American flag outside the restaurant. Whatever the substance of the issue, Oreña was fined $40 and promptly paid the penalty.

Several weeks later, a daughter tried to flee the household for Santa Barbara and her father’s kin, but it was noted that Señora Gutierrez needed Serenita “to assist her in serving tamales and other ‘hot stuffs’ for which the place is famous.” Infamy, however, is what soon transpired when the Times of 26 July reported that, in a dispute with the property owner over $70 in back rent owed, Gutierrez, fortified by red wine and in a frenzy, seized a meat cleaver and hacked away at a half-dozen dining rooms including destroying their partitions, starting to set fire to furniture, ripping wallpaper, and slashing table linens before she was stopped by police officers, arrested and released on bail.

The dispute looked to have been settled in August, but Eloisa filed a damages suit against her landlord, though it is unknown what transpired in that case. By November 1899, the El Pelayo Restaurant opened at the location, but it looks to have been short-lived. When the century ended in 1900, the year saloon owner G.B. Simpson intended to operate a “Spanish restaurant” with his saloon, Señora Gutierrez resided alone in the Lincoln Heights neighborhood and gave “caterer” as her occupation when counted in the federal census. In 1905, she married Edward Mathie, a well-known Angel City brewer and she appears to have lived a far more sedate life in her last forty-plus years.

We hope this look at some of the history of early Mexican (and Spanish) restaurants in Los Angeles is both interesting and instructive and check back with us tomorrow as we share Zac Salem’s piece on Luna’s Grand Mexican Restaurant of San Francisco and offer these pair of posts as (hopefully) useful contributions to the topic in 19th and early 20th century California.