Before the Days of Gold: California's Undervalued Alloy
by Jenny Clendenen
Published in Trailblazer: Journal of the California Pioneers of Santa Clara County, June 2012, Vol. 53 No. 2
In the minds of most Californians, our history begins with the Gold Rush, that “flash in the pan” that gilded a few years on our timeline, and tarnished much of the century thereafter with greed. Yes, we learned in kindergarten that “Indians” once lived in the area, and our fourth-grade mission projects left us with vague memories of mud bricks and missionaries, and by our teen years we’d noted the Santas and Sans on our maps. But few of us are aware that for seventy-plus years prior to statehood, “our” land of Alta California had been thoroughly settled by Spanish-Mexicans – not just priests and presidio soldiers, but citizen ranchers who managed vast estates.
In the eighteenth century such estates were granted to Spanish colonists by King Carlos III, usually for military service to the crown. When Mexico won its independence from Spain in 1822, Mexican governors issued hundreds more grants to reputable residents who presented petitions and diseños (crude maps indicating the boundaries of the desired property). These property grants, ranging from 200 to 40,000 acres, made a land baron of virtually every ranchero in California. The Californio culture flourished. Cattle, raised mostly for leather, grazed in every valley; a dozen children assisted on every ranch; the riches of nature and craftsmanship met every need. There were frequent fandangos, weddings, and other occasions to enjoy ample food and wine.
It is easy to romanticize the Californios, forgetting the impact that their actions, sanctioned or not, had on the native people and wildlife. Not everything they did was right or good. There were horrific bear-and-bull fights, mistreatment of neophyte labor, and numerous clashes with Native American tribes. As happens when any culture encroaches on another’s territory, the cost of success is borne by the displaced.
Ironically, as a direct result of the massive influx of gold-seeking immigrants, the Spanish-Mexican culture itself was thoroughly displaced. Illegal squatters flooded Alta California, foreigners staked mining claims on private properties, and “Americans” sought to overturn as many of the Spanish-Mexican land grants as possible. Lawyers like Henry Halleck of San Francisco, who had taken diseños and proofs from the government offices in Monterey, held the grantees in their power. By the mid-1800s, most rancheros had been forced, by decree or by crippling legal costs, to relinquish nearly all their land. The subsequent statehood of California marked the end of the Spanish-Mexican era. Not many Californio ranches would survive the gringo invasion, though so many place names evoke their once powerful dons: Bernal, Berryessa, Peralta, Vallejo, Sunol.
Still, this shared edge of the continent unifies us across time, and its landmarks betoken the facts of its edited past. Ancient trees that once sheltered vaqueros also marked Californio boundaries, lynchings, and graves; dark holes in the hills show where gringos once gutted the earth; thick cactus paddles poke through grass by streams. Bovine descendants of Spanish Longhorns graze beside freeways that connect thriving cities, for despite its mismanaged finances, the Golden State still draws millions who seek its riches. The little-known truth, though, is that Spanish-Mexicans brought prosperity to Alta California long before prosperity was measured in gold.
Author note: In May 2020, eight years after this article, my book MINE: El Despojo de Maria Zacarias Bernal de Berreyesa was published, about a Spanish-Mexican matriarch of San Jose (1791-1869) who once lived on land dear to me.
Published in Trailblazer: Journal of the California Pioneers of Santa Clara County, June 2012, Vol. 53 No. 2
In the minds of most Californians, our history begins with the Gold Rush, that “flash in the pan” that gilded a few years on our timeline, and tarnished much of the century thereafter with greed. Yes, we learned in kindergarten that “Indians” once lived in the area, and our fourth-grade mission projects left us with vague memories of mud bricks and missionaries, and by our teen years we’d noted the Santas and Sans on our maps. But few of us are aware that for seventy-plus years prior to statehood, “our” land of Alta California had been thoroughly settled by Spanish-Mexicans – not just priests and presidio soldiers, but citizen ranchers who managed vast estates.
In the eighteenth century such estates were granted to Spanish colonists by King Carlos III, usually for military service to the crown. When Mexico won its independence from Spain in 1822, Mexican governors issued hundreds more grants to reputable residents who presented petitions and diseños (crude maps indicating the boundaries of the desired property). These property grants, ranging from 200 to 40,000 acres, made a land baron of virtually every ranchero in California. The Californio culture flourished. Cattle, raised mostly for leather, grazed in every valley; a dozen children assisted on every ranch; the riches of nature and craftsmanship met every need. There were frequent fandangos, weddings, and other occasions to enjoy ample food and wine.
It is easy to romanticize the Californios, forgetting the impact that their actions, sanctioned or not, had on the native people and wildlife. Not everything they did was right or good. There were horrific bear-and-bull fights, mistreatment of neophyte labor, and numerous clashes with Native American tribes. As happens when any culture encroaches on another’s territory, the cost of success is borne by the displaced.
Ironically, as a direct result of the massive influx of gold-seeking immigrants, the Spanish-Mexican culture itself was thoroughly displaced. Illegal squatters flooded Alta California, foreigners staked mining claims on private properties, and “Americans” sought to overturn as many of the Spanish-Mexican land grants as possible. Lawyers like Henry Halleck of San Francisco, who had taken diseños and proofs from the government offices in Monterey, held the grantees in their power. By the mid-1800s, most rancheros had been forced, by decree or by crippling legal costs, to relinquish nearly all their land. The subsequent statehood of California marked the end of the Spanish-Mexican era. Not many Californio ranches would survive the gringo invasion, though so many place names evoke their once powerful dons: Bernal, Berryessa, Peralta, Vallejo, Sunol.
Still, this shared edge of the continent unifies us across time, and its landmarks betoken the facts of its edited past. Ancient trees that once sheltered vaqueros also marked Californio boundaries, lynchings, and graves; dark holes in the hills show where gringos once gutted the earth; thick cactus paddles poke through grass by streams. Bovine descendants of Spanish Longhorns graze beside freeways that connect thriving cities, for despite its mismanaged finances, the Golden State still draws millions who seek its riches. The little-known truth, though, is that Spanish-Mexicans brought prosperity to Alta California long before prosperity was measured in gold.
Author note: In May 2020, eight years after this article, my book MINE: El Despojo de Maria Zacarias Bernal de Berreyesa was published, about a Spanish-Mexican matriarch of San Jose (1791-1869) who once lived on land dear to me.