S5 E3 Part 1 March 1847

This is March 1847, Part One—the beginning of Yerba Buena’s transformation into an American town. 

In this episode, we examine a town meeting, the rise and disappearance of “Parson” J.G.T. Dunleavy, calls to establish a public school, and challenging Californio's Mexican land-grant system. 

We also discuss how American settlers and Californio landowners viewed the same landscape through different legal traditions. 

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Transcript

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I’d like to thank Chocobomero for becoming a monthly contributor. He has a special place in my podcast heart because he wrote the very first review for Monkey Block five years ago. Positive reviews help people find the podcast, so thank you again, Choco.

<radio tuning and seagulls>

Girlina: This is Girlina, coming to you from Portsmouth Square, Yerba Buena, March 1847. The town looks small, Jonas, but something big is happening. Power is shifting, land rights are being questioned, newcomers are demanding a voice, and Yerba Buena is becoming what most people know it as today: an American town.

Jonas: Thank you, Girlina. Can you tell us what you see?

Girlina: Indeed. Californios were always a minority in the town of Yerba Buena, founded in 1835, but they were the majority in the larger District of San Francisco, including the Presidio and surrounding area. By 1844 and 1845, as more Americans arrived, some Californios had already begun moving away from Yerba Buena and the district.

Jonas: Based on that, which language is spoken? 

Girlina: Overwhelmingly English, Jonas. On the street, in the shops, around the square, English is the language you hear most. 

Jonas: Thank you for that information, Girlina. Please proceed to update us from the scene. 

---

The interview in this episode is an imagined, historically informed scene. The newspaper stories, however, come directly from the historical record. 

This episode uses excerpts from the California Star for research, historical commentary, and analysis under fair use, 17 U.S.C., Section 107. Sources are listed in the Buzzsprout transcript.

Now, dear listeners, March 1847 Yerba Buena.  

Are you ready? Here we go. 

The California Star, Yerba Buena, March 6, 1847 Issue No. 9

The March 6 issue begins with the reporting of a town meeting. And we start to hear the newcomers state their position publicly: they believe they helped take California, they believe they suffered to get here, and now they want political power.

This is a meeting about representation and about who gets to shape what Yerba Buena and California becomes.

“At an adjourned meeting of the citizens of Yerba Buena, held on Thursday evening last, in pursuance of a call by “many citizens,” the following Preamble and Resolutions were adopted: 

<gavel>

Whereas a legislative council was recently organized by appointment made by the late Governor, Commodore Stockton, consisting of seven members: 

·       Four of whom were Californians

·       One of whom was a British subject

·       And but two of whom were Americans 

The two Americans and the British subjects, having resided for fifteen years in the country, and having engaged largely in the mercantile business, have identified themselves and their interest, in all respects, with the Californians, so that in truth, we are without an adequate American representation. (They have a point.)

Mr. J.G.T Dunleavy spoke at this meeting, and this is a snippet of his impassioned speech:

And whereas the emigrants, who constitute more than four fifth of the American population, who have recently arrived in the country and are now without lands, houses or homes, worn down and exhausted from the continued fatigue and hardships of a long and toilsome journey, who have been the very first to take up their arms in defense of the country, and their country’s cause, have periled the enemy and restored peace, and tranquility to the country are without even the semblance of representation. 

And, this was the outcome from his impassioned speech:

Therefore, resolved:

<gavel> That we view the population of California as being divided into three distinct classes: to wit, 

·       Californians

·       foreigners (including French, English and American, who have long resided in the country)

·       and the emigrants, who have recently arrived in the country

All of which distinct classes have distinct interests and hence should be allowed representation for their respective classes. 

Resolved <gavel> 

·       That all the different interests of the country ought to be equally and adequately represented. 

Resolved <gavel> 

·       That each District of the Northern Department ought to be represented by at least one member. 

Resolved <gavel> 

·       That we now proceed to elect one member, to be recommended to the Governor to be appointed to represent this district.”

“Mr. J.G.T Dunleavy and L.W. Hastings were then nominated as candidates.”

Cutting to the chase, Dunleavy, the one who gave the impassioned speech, received 60 votes to L.W. Hastings 32 votes.

The meeting outcome determined that California had three competing groups with separate interests:

1. Californios 
2. Long-time foreign residents and merchants living in California
3. Recent American immigrants 

By March 1847, Dunleavy was a visible figure in Yerba Buena/San Francisco. 

Why "Parson J.G.T. Dunleavy"?

I became curious about Dunleavy because he suddenly appeared and very prominently. Last month, he gave a passionate speech about beachfront land and was referred to as Parson Dunleavy. 

Dunleavy was either a minister or at least claimed to be one. I haven’t found anything confirming he was a clergyman, but he was clearly a comfortable public speaker and argued causes with confidence. 

For a brief moment, Dunleavy became the voice of the recently arrived American emigrants who felt politically marginalized in California: not Californios, or long-established foreign merchants or men with roots in the Mexican system, but overland emigrants who had crossed the continent and now wanted land, homes, and political power.

In doing some research, I found that Dunleavy and Alcalde Edwin Bryant knew each other before they reached Yerba Buena. They left Independence, Missouri, as part of the same wagon train and traveled together for some portion of the journey to California.

Early in Edwin Bryant’s What I Saw in California, Bryant described Dunleavy giving a farewell speech to more than 500 people who had gathered to see them off. So, Dunleavy had a history of dramatic public moments.

Later in the journey, Dunleavy appeared in the book again when he announced his faction of the company was breaking off, after being asked to leave, for having too many head of cattle slowing down the wagon train. And on the overland trail, wasted time could be deadly. Just ask the Donners, who joined this same wagon train for a while. 

Something I did not fully appreciate before is that these overland journeys were not only transportation stories but also relationship stories. The people who crossed together remained connected after they arrived in California. They had argued, suffered, survived together, and in some cases, like Dunleavy and Bryant, entered California politics together.

Now, let’s get back to Yerba Buena.

My speculative take is that Dunleavy and Hastings, as well as Bartlett and Hyde, from last month, had interests pointing in the same direction. They were opposing a council dominated by Californios and long-established foreigners during a time when control over Yerba Buena’s land was becoming valuable. Especially that waterfront land.

Whoever controlled the surveying, division, allocation, and sale of Yerba Buena’s beachfront lots would control the future commercial center of the town. So even though the issue of waterfront land is not directly stated in the town meeting, I can hear it underneath the debate.

Why Hastings, an attorney with a specialized focus on litigating Mexican land titles and land disputes lose to Dunleavy? I don’t know. But it shows that Dunleavy was persuasive and trusted by the newly arrived Americans to become their recommended representative.

And then, almost as quickly as Dunleavy appeared in town, he disappears from Yerba Buena, which activated my history-detective radar. 

Dunleavy rabbit hole in three, two, one… <beep>

In the December 20th, 2021 issue of the Santa Cruz Sentinel, an article titled “Pioneer Christmas Journey” described Dunleavy’s sudden change of direction after his Yerba Buena political success. The article says, “James G. T. Dunleavy, San Francisco Municipal Clerk, now running for Town Council, celebrated his success by getting roaring drunk, and had to leave town. Dunleavy sent a message from his new home in Santa Cruz, where he now owned a north coast ranch and most of the downtown flats before there was a downtown.”

Uh-huh.

From March 1847 onward, Dunleavy’s notable and vocal presence in Yerba Buena instantly goes dark, and he and his wife suddenly appear in Santa Cruz soon after this alleged “roaring drunk” election celebration. 

What could he have done that would require leaving town? I do not know. But the Dunleavy story takes one more curious turn.

A year later, in the spring of 1848, Santa Cruz becomes the birthplace of California’s temperance movement. And the secretary of this nondrinking society is James G. T. Dunleavy. Oh, the irony. I love a comeback story. Moving on.

So, Dunleavy discussed representation, and the next article turns to another question facing Yerba Buena: what kind of town are we trying to build?

Creating a public school comes up again, but this time with a dash of theater. Newspaper writing in 1847 was a mixture of news, opinion, social persuasion, and drama. Our modern idea of detached, objective reporting wasn’t the standard just yet.

Public Schools

“We would respectfully call the attention of our fellow citizens, to the importance of establishing a public school. The population of this town is now rapidly increasing, and with this increase, there is a full proportion of children. To our knowledge, there is not at present a school in the place, and by consequence, our children and youth are suffering that most serious of all moral calamities, (what could that be?) the misfortune of growing up in ignorance; of wasting that period of life, which only can be devoted to education.

(I’m skipping a paragraph about the United States’ earliest ancestors crossing the Atlantic Ocean, and quickly establishing public schools.)

“Our present position and responsibilities here, are not dissimilar from those of the early emigrants from Europe to the other side of the continent. Like them we are the founders of a future empire. Upon our acts now will depend in great measure the future character and prosperity of that empire. If we lay the foundations deep and solid in intelligence and morality, the superstructure will rest firmly and securely upon it, and as it rises, be graced with enduring majesty and beauty. If we neglect the basis, and build upon ignorance and vice, sooner or later the deformed and tottering fabric will crumble and fall, leaving nothing but a ghastly and hideous ruin, for the execration and abhorrence of history and mankind.” (Is anyone against educating the kids?)

This next part is a little long but worth preserving as it was written. 

The expense of establishing and sustaining a public school for the instruction of our children and youth in the ordinary branches of a common English education, when collectively borne, even by our present population, would not be onerous; but when it is recollected that in all human probability, for some time to come, our population will be doubled, perhaps quadrupled, annually, the expense will appear as a mere trifle.

All that is required to carry into effect, at once, the good work, is that a move should be made, and supported with energy and unanimity by our fellow citizens. Let this be done forthwith; let it no longer be a curse to our children, to those who are to succeed us as the builders up of the empire of the Pacific, that they are denied the facilities of acquiring an education suited to their high destiny.”

In all of that dramatic text, two statements stand out:

·       The prediction that the population would double or quadruple wasn’t as hyperbolic as it sounded in March 1847.

·       And the phrase "empire of the Pacific" supports the expansionist mentality after the U.S. occupation of California.

I see someone reading this week’s paper. Let’s see if I can get a local perspective.

Girlina: Mrs. Harper? 

Mrs. Harper: Uh, yes?

Girlina: May I get your thoughts about establishing a public school in Yerba Buena?

“Certainly. Every morning I see the children running about the square and along the shore. They are lively and good-hearted, but what future shall they have if they grow up without learning their letters?! A child may climb our hills and chase cattle all day, but that will not teach them to read a Bible, keep a ledger, or write a letter. Our children deserve better than to grow up in ignorance. If we can build homes and businesses, we can build a school. The future of this town depends upon it."

Girlina: Thank you, Mrs. Harper. Your perspective is noted. Just so you know, this exact topic will be an ongoing theme in San Francisco for the next 150 years.

Mrs. Harper: Excuse me?

Girlina: I’m discussing the future, so, never mind. 

Moving on <page turn>

Another Emigrant Party

I’ll summarize this next story about a party of twenty-four emigrants who successfully reached the summit of the California mountains but were trapped by the extremely heavy snow of December 1846. 

The short version? Everyone in the party perished.

The readers understood that the same mountains that stranded this party stood between countless friends, relatives, and future settlers still making their way out west. The Donners would become the most famous of all the stranded wagon trains. But they were certainly not the only ones to suffer for similar reasons. 

For readers who already made it, this piece highlights how personal these stories were to people who had already made it to California.

Turning the page. <page turning>

The next article appeared in both the February and March 1847 issues, and it touches on a topic that has been on my radar for years. This topic will receive its own episode, but since it appears in this issue, I don’t want to pass over it completely.

On September 15, 1846, two months after the United States took possession of California, John B. Montgomery wrote a proclamation regarding native slavery. It’s an example that “all is not what it seems”. 

Since the article uses the term ‘Indians,’ I use that term when citing the article, which I will very quickly summarize for now. 

A Proclamation to the Inhabitants of the Northern District of California

The proclamation appears to defend Native Californians from enslavement and condemns the practice of forcibly taking Indians and holding them as slaves. But when you read more closely, the concern isn’t Native equality or freedom. 

The proclamation is attempting to control the existing labor system by distinguishing between illegal kidnapping and lawful service. But it doesn’t outlaw coerced Indian labor. Oh, no. Instead, it places Indian labor under official supervision.

Since we are finally at the period where it fits my timeline, I can discuss this topic and give it the time it deserves. So, I will make this my next episode. Stay tuned. 

California Star, Yerba Buena, March 13, 1847, Issue No. 10

Someone calling themselves ‘Paisano’ writes an editorial, which I will condense, as this episode is getting lengthy. 

“MR. EDITOR—**There are numerous subjects of the greatest importance, both to ourselves and to those of our countrymen, who are annually arriving in the country, which demands the sincere attention of those, especially, who are invested with legislative powers.”

Paisano goes on to say that the arriving American emigrants, of the last few years, are farmers, and their first goal is to secure land. But when they try to find a tract, especially near settlements like Yerba Buena, they discover that nearly everything is already claimed. (Well, yes, Mr. Paisano. Mexican land that was granted to people, prior to your arrival.) 

Paisano mocks how land boundaries are determined: “that mountain on the east, is the S. E. corner of my farm, and that timbered country, which you see in the distance, is my N. W. corner; the other corners of my farm are rather indefinitely marked at present, but I shall endeavor to have the rope applied to them also, as soon as the ALCALDE is at leisure.” 

“This is a sober, lamentable reality. This is not just one exaggerated story about a greedy land claimant, but a general condition throughout California.”

(He’s not wrong.) He’s describing how Mexico and Californios determined land grant boundaries, which was established by using physical landmarks. 

Paisano’s editorial highlights that times are changing. But, Sloat’s original proclamation told the people of California they could keep their land and property after the American occupation, but that promise is already being challenged.

As more American settlers arrive, the government and people begin changing the existing understanding of land ownership. Some of the remaining Californios began leaving Yerba Buena and the Presidio for less populated areas because they saw the writing on the wall.

And I mean that literally. Sloat’s proclamation was posted on walls near La Plaza from the day of the takeover. Some Californios knew the posted proclamation was unbelievable and for good reason. 

And, the very next article in this issue…

Article title - The United States has taken possession of California 

“The American flag now flies over California, and citizens are now under American power. But instead of helping them get land, the new political direction has made things more uncertain.”

That sentence summarizes the article, which is too long to get into. In short, it describes the shift occurring in our settlement. The old versus the new. Californios versus Americans. 

Some Californios left the area just before American occupation but held onto their granted land in Yerba Buena and the District of San Francisco. Juana Briones left somewhere between 1844 and 1845 claiming the area had become ‘too crowded for her liking’. 

Mariano Vallejo, his brother Salvador, and Juana Briones still make infrequent visits to their granted land that was sometimes marked and sometimes not. In Juana’s case, she skillfully leased her land in front of current day Washington Square Park to Americans. 

Under American frontier logic, visible use mattered.

To the Californio/Mexican landholder, “This land is already granted, recognized, and occupied under our system whether marked or not”.

American settlers and Californios are looking at the same land through two different legal lenses. They came here expecting frontier land rules, but California had Mexican land rules. And technically, Mexico does not officially cede California to the United States until the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo in February 1848, so we are in an awkward space of not quite here and not quite there. Legally, it’s still Mexico … under American occupation.

So, which method of management should prevail for now? It’s obvious which direction this will go in, so how much longer should Mexican law continue to govern what will certainly become part of the United States? Mexico does not have the resources to meaningfully fight for Upper California.

In much of the American frontier, land was “available” if it looked vacant or unused. A settler arrived, built, farmed or improved the land, stayed there, and eventually claimed ownership through settlement or improvement, and then gained legal recognition. I worked it, therefore I earned it.

But Mexico’s California worked differently. Land did not have to look developed to be legally claimed. People received large land grants from the government, by the thousands of acres. The land might look open, unfenced, or “empty”, but was legally accounted for. 

That unmarked land might be part of a rancho, or Native territory, or a grant using natural landmarks rather than fences to determine boundaries. If you own thousands of acres, are you really going to build that kind of a fence? 

Epilogue

And now, to conclude this episode.

Jonas: Girlina, before we conclude, what does Portsmouth Square look like now?

Girlina: The square is still small, Jonas. A few buildings, unpaved streets, the shoreline nearby. But the conversations taking place here are anything but small.

New arrivals want land. Residents want representation. Parents want a school. And, Californios are watching their authority and property rights become less certain. And Native Californians—the people whose land all of this is taking place upon—are still being denied a meaningful voice in what comes next in the future empire on the Pacific.

Jonas: Thank you for reporting from the scene, Girlina. As always, your reporting from 1847 is both timely and impossible.

<doot doot doot>

Between the town meeting that divided residents into three political groups and Paisano’s editorial, Yerba Buena is circling the same questions: Who gets land? Who gets legal protection? 

Americans are angry that Californios control what they want. Yet, Native Californian land rights are outside the conversation.

I’m only halfway through March 1847, and I want to give Montgomery’s proclamation regarding Native Californians the attention it deserves. So I’m breaking March 1847 into Part 1 and Part 2, with the proclamation episode in between. 

I’ve carefully spent half a decade building the foundation for this moment in our town’s history and I want to see it through carefully, because this is where the transformation begins. It’s the turning point from Mexico’s Yerba Buena to the United States’ Yerba Buena/San Francisco.

If you are enjoying this month-by-month analysis of 1847, you can support Monkey Block by writing a positive review, making a one-time donation, or becoming a monthly contributor like Chocobomero at www.buymeacoffee.com/monkeyblocksf. You can reach me directly at monkeyblocksf@gmail.com.

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Thank you for listening. This is Monkey Block, retelling forgotten stories from San Francisco’s golden past.