An Editor Whose Coverage of Emperor Norton Extended Beyond the Pages of His Newspaper
Discovery of A Previously Unreported — And Tantalizingly Timed — Book Excerpt
Albert S. Evans. Engraving by Fay and Cox (Augustus Fay (born c. 1824) and Stephen J. Cox (1836–1897)). Frontispiece to Evans, Our Sister Republic, 1870. Source: Library of Congress
PROBABLY no San Francisco newspaper editor is more closely associated with Emperor Norton than Albert Spooner Evans (1831–1872), editor of the Daily Alta California from 1863 until his untimely death.
Evans had arrived in San Francisco by 1862 and worked as an editor and reporter at a number of newspapers — including the Daily Evening Bulletin and the Morning Call — before landing at the Daily Alta.
In September 1872, Evans sailed for New York to help oversee publication of his book À la California: Sketches of life in the Golden state (1873), which was on press at the time.
On his return voyage, Evans died at sea while aboard the Atlantic Mail Company steamship Missouri, which — having left New York for Havana on 8 October 1872 — caught fire and burned, some 200 miles off the coast of Florida, on October 22.
It was under Evans — possibly under Evans’s own pen — that the Alta a little less that 6 years earlier published its memorable front-page defense of Emperor Norton in the wake of the Emperor’s false arrest in January 1867:
Editorial item, “Arrest of the Emperor,” Daily Alta California, 22 January 1867, p. 1. Source: California Digital Newspaper Collection
But, as regards Emperor Norton, Albert Evans is best known for carving out a specialty writing and publishing fake proclamations and highly embroidered stories from, and about, the Emperor — including tall tales ginning up a rivalry between the Emperor and Frederick Coombs (1803–1874) a.k.a. George Washington II.
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APPARENTLY unearthed here for the first time…
Evans included a series of previously unheard — and probably imaginary — episodes involving Norton One and Washington Two in an earlier book that he published in 1870.
In 1869, William Henry Seward (1801–1872) — former New York Governor (1839–42), New York Senator (1849–61), and Secretary of State under Lincoln and Lincoln’s successor, Andrew Johnson (1861–69) — took a trip West.
After visiting Alaska (pre-statehood), Oregon, and California, Seward embarked on a grand tour of Mexico.
Albert Evans joined the Seward party for its “Mexico leg” — which left San Francisco on 30 September 1869, arrived in Mexico on October 7, and concluded on 14 January 1870, before heading to Havana.
Evans wrote up his observations of Mexico in a book — part travelogue, part memoir — titled Our Sister Republic: A Gala Trip Through Tropical Mexico in 1869–70.
Advance copies of the book were “in the field” by August 1870 — and reviews like the following, in the Philadelphia Press, were appearing by November:
Review of Our Sister Republic, by Albert S. Evans, Philadelphia Press, 10 November 1870, p. 2. Source: Genealogy Bank
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NOTICE the last line of that review…
A very readable and apparently truthful work.
…but know, too, that “truthful” is a word that plenty of people would not have applied to Albert Evans’s reporting without adding several grains of salt — possibly why the reviewer felt the need to add “apparently” as a qualifier.
About two-third of of the way through Our Sister Republic, in a chapter on “Social Condition and Customs,” Evans notes:
It is customary in all Spanish American countries to offer a guest everything which he may require for his. comfort and convenience, and literally, to put the entire house, and every thing in it, at his disposal for the time being. This practice grows out of a genuine feeling of liberality, and hospitality, but the language used is such as to be quite readily misunderstood by a stranger who measures expressions by the cold matter-of-fact rule in use in colder countries, and attaches more weight to a mere formality than it is justly entitled to. When you enter the house of a friend, or even a person to whom you have a letter of introduction, in Spanish America, he at once tells you, that you are "in your own house," and that you are the master and he your guest, or something to that effect. He really expects you to make yourself at home in the broadest sense of the term, but on the other hand, pays you the compliment of supposing that you have, at least, an ordinary amount of common sense, and will know enough of what constitutes the rules and customs of society, not to abuse, the offer, and outstay your welcome.
To further illustrate his point, Evans indulges in a lengthy digression about Freddy Coombs that includes numerous claims about Emperor Norton. After introducing Coombs as Washington the Second, Evans continues [emphases mine]:
San Francisco has still another speciality, in the shape of "Norton I, By the Grace of God and the Will of the people, Emperor of the United States, Protector of Mexico, and Sovereign Lord of the Guano Islands," as he styles himself in all his proclamations. You may see him to-day, dressed in a soiled and greasy uniform, cocked hat and feather, carrying a heavy cavalry sword and a huge knotty cane up and down Montgomery street, or peering curiously into the shop windows, examining every work of art, with a critical and appreciative eye.
The cares of state weigh heavily upon Norton the First, and in his advanced age he is becoming subject to certain slight ebulitions of wrath, on the slightest provocation. He daily sends off communications to the different crowned heads of Europe and Asia, commanding them to do this thing or that thing, immediately. His telegraphic dispatches would — and generally do — fill an ordinary waste-basket every week in the year, and the number of proclamations which he sends to the different newspaper offices, with command to publish at once, on penalty of instant death and confiscation of property, is beyond computation. He was a wealthy speculator in breadstuffs, in the early days of San Francisco, and probably receives more or less assistance from his old and more fortunate acquaintances, and possibly also, from a secret order of which he was once a member; but the full secret of his living and maintaining his royal state, is a mystery to most people. When Maximilian arrived in Mexico, he received communication after communication from the Emperor Norton I., signed by His Majesty in person, and adorned with seals of the size of a small cheese, giving him much good advice, and offering many suggestions as to the method of conducting the affairs of the new Empire, which it was evidently supposed would receive due consideration, as coming from an old hand and successful operator in the business of Imperialism. These documents received much attention at first, and for a long time bothered the head of the son of the House of Hapsburg–Lorraine, and all his ministers, exceedingly.
One day, Uncle Freddy mentioned to a friend, in confidence, that he had written to Queen Victoria on some subject, and the treacherous friend at once related the circumstance to the Emperor, adding that he — Uncle Freddy — had denounced the Emperor as a humbug and a swindle. From that moment the Emperor Norton First, and Washington the Second, were mortal enemies, and every day added fuel to the flame of their animosity.
Washington opened a curiosity shop on Clay street, and the Emperor went up there and smashed it, and all its contents, into a cocked-hat. Washington appealed to the police, and was told, that the Emperor being the source of all power, no writ would hold against him. Then Washington met a Chinese woman of the better class on the street, gorgeously arrayed, and as she looked at him with curiosity, bowed to her. This incident was reported to the Emperor, with the addition that the young female Mongolion was a Chinese princess, sent over to America to be married to His Majesty, in order to bring about an alliance offensive and defensive between the two Empires, and that Uncle Freddy was endeavoring to get her prejudiced against royalty, and in favor of himself.
This last straw broke the Imperial Camel's back, and Norton the First, at once issued a peremptory order to General McDowell, for the arrest and execution of Uncle Freddy, adding, that if the order was disregarded as others had been, he would go out, sword in hand, and put down the rebellion summarily. The wags who had been carrying on the joke, seeing that matters had come to a dangerous pass, and bloodshed was not unlikely to follow, consulted together, and determined to induce Uncle Freddy to emigrate, at once, to New York. On the way down the coast, the steamer on which Uncle Freddy was a passenger, touched at Acapulco, and the venerable representative of the Father of His Country, asked Señor Mancillas, now of the Mexican Congress, who was also a passenger, to introduce him to General Juan Alvarez, then in command of the port of Acapulco, and Governor of the State of Guerrero. Mancillas thoughtlessly complied, and the old fellow at once made himself extremely familiar with the authorities on shore.
When the time for the steamer to depart arrived, Mancillas went to pay his respects and bid good-bye to General Alvarez, and was not a little surprised to find Uncle Freddy installed in the house in all the pomp of the Father of His Country, indeed, and a guest of national importance. He had informed the gallant old Republican General, that he had rendered distinguished service to Mexico during the war of 1846–7, which he had opposed with all his might, and final success. The General of course told him that he was welcome to the country, and that the house and everything in the house was his own. If he could make up his mind to spend the remainder of his days in so poor a country as Mexico, and so poor a city as Acapulco, he would feel only too happy, to have him for a guest for the rest of his life.
Uncle Freddy took a look at the premises, rather liked the way everything was arranged and proceeded to dine sumptuously. When Señor Mancillas, at his last call, reminded him that the steamer's gun had been fired, and it was time to go off in the boat, he stretched his legs comfortably in the cool verandah, and informed him that he had determined to accept the hospitable invitation which had been extended to him, make that his home, and consider himself the guest of General Alvarez and the Mexican Republic, for the remainder of his days. Mancillas argued and expostulated in vain; Uncle Freddy had struck too good a thing, and he meant to enjoy it.
At last, in a fit of very desperation, Mancillas sent a party to invite the healthy old shade of the father of his country outside the door, and then seize him, and hurry him down to the boat and off to the steamer by main strength.
When General Alvarez heard of the "outrage" he was in a great passion, and could only be appeased by hearing the whole story, and learning that the kidnaping had been done by the order of Señor Mancillas, in order to relieve him—the General—of the presence of a lunatic, whom he had thoughtlessly introduced into the house, and who proposed to take the General at his word, and stay there for life.
Uncle Freddy was borne away from the shores of Mexico sorely against his will, and when last seen, on Broadway, New York, was still bitterly bewailing the lost opportunity, like the man who being asked to "excuse" a lady to whom he had popped the question, excused her, and as he informed his friends, regretted having done so, to the end of his existence.
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ALBERT EVANS writes that Emperor Norton
probably receives more or less assistance… from a secret order of which he was once a member.
Assuming that Evans is talking here about the Masons, this may be one of the few “truthful” things about the Emperor that Evan relates in his book.
Elsewhere in the passage, Evans claims that Emperor Norton
“Styled himself“ as “Sovereign Lord of the Guano Islands”
Sent Napoleon III’s puppet emperor Maximilian a barrage of letters that ultimately came to annoy Maximilian and his ministers
Wore a “cocked hat” — that is, a tricorn — like the one worn by Freddy Coombs a.k.a. Washington II
Smashed a Clay Street shop owned by Coombs and dumped the contents of the shop into said hat
Was insulted by a report that Coombs was trying to steal a Chinese princess who had been sent from China as a marriage prospect for the Emperor
Called for the arrest and execution of Coombs
As to Coombs…
In late December 1864, Albert Evans’s Alta reported that Freddy Coombs was planning to leave California:
Item, “A Last Appeal,” Daily Alta California, 26 December 1864, p. 1. Source: California Digital Newspaper Collection
In June 1865, the Alta reported that Freddy had left in May:
Item, “The Free Ditcher of Napa Leaves Us” Daily Alta California, 13 June 1865, p. 1. Source: California Digital Newspaper Collection
The next the Alta reported was in July 1866 — by which time Freddy already “had become a Capital character” in Washington, D.C.:
“Californians at the Capital” (section). “Our Letter from Washington, D.C.,” Daily Alta California, 21 June 1866, p. 1. Source: California Digital Newspapers Collection
I find no version — or even REFERENCE — to ANY of these tales about Emperor Norton OR Freddy Coombs and his Acapulco adventures outside of Evans’s book.
It’s hard to imagine that Albert Evans — of all people — would have been able to keep these pre–1870 stories under his hat and out of the Daily Alta for 4-plus years if he’d been aware of them.
Which leads me to conclude that — most likely — these tales were visited upon Evans’s brain in 1870 as he was writing his book.
In fact, when Evans writes that…
[t]he wags who had been carrying on the joke, seeing that matters had come to a dangerous pass, and bloodshed was not unlikely to follow, consulted together, and determined to induce Uncle Freddy to emigrate, at once, to New York.
…he may be outing himself as the Chief Wag. For, how would Evans know when the pranks had stopped — or at least been put on hold — if he was not “in the loop” of the pranks?
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ALMOST CERTAINLY, the entire story of Freddy Coombs and the “Mongolion” princess is fake.
In the story, the ginned-up report of Freddy’s betrayal is the “last straw” that “broke the Imperial Camel’s back.”
But, notice a couple of dates…
The Daily Alta’s own review of Albert Evan’s book appeared on 9 October1870.
Less than three months later, Emperor Norton issued a Proclamation, dated 23 December 1870, designating the Black-owned and -operated Pacific Appeal newspaper as the official platform for his public communications. The Proclamation was published in the Appeal on 7 January 1871:
Proclamation of Emperor Norton, Pacific Appeal, 7 January 1871, p. 1. Source: California Digital Newspaper Collection
The key words and phrases here are “reliable,” “not traitors,” and “true to our colors.”
With the notable exception of the Alta’s editorial “endorsement“ of January 1867, the Emperor already had ample reason — before the publication of Evans’s book — to regard both the Alta and its editor as unreliable traitors who decidedly were not “true to our colors.”
It seems likely that the Mechanics’ Institute would have added a copy of Our Sister Republic to its library “in real time.”
Did Emperor Norton browse a copy of Evans’s book in fall 1870 — on one of his regular weekly visits to the Mechanics’ Institute?
If so, did he notice Evans’s farcical stories about him?
Who knows? Perhaps Evans’s book was itself the REAL “last straw” for Emperor Norton — the instance of fakery that
prompted the Emperor to seek out — and find, in the Pacific Appeal — a more “reliable” venue for his Proclamations, and that
focused the Emperor on the priority of engaging only with newspapers who — if not entirely “true” — at least were sympathetic to his “colors.”
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