Senator Felton Recounts Chapter in California's Dishonor - San Francisco Bulletin San Francisco, California · Saturday, April 18, 1914
This is a first-person account of the hanging of a woman in Downieville in 1851, told by Charles N. Felton. There are a few of these versions of the story, told by witnesses, and I'll be adding more. Many witness and original retellings contradict the various versions available to us now, such as the Wikipedia entry Josefa Segovia. It is like that movie Rashomon. Interestingly, in this article, the name "Juanita" is not used. You'll notice that she was a named Josefa in all the newspaper reports immediately after the event, and only first named Juanita in a news report 20 years after the event.
This report is similar to the other stories, but has details that are not present in other versions, or that differ, or are unique, for instance that Stephen J. Field, later a Supreme Court justice was one of... "A few brave souls [that] attempted to save the hapless Juanita from the grim and howling mob. A young lawyer pled to the mob to uphold law and not to bring dishonor on them all with the murder of Juanita. He was pulled from his speaking position, buffeted through the crowd, and chased out of town." That's testimony from "...Mrs. Amy Westall of Loganville. She first heard the story as a young girl in the 1870's, when she lived in the vicinity of Applegate, Ca. She subsequently moved to Sierra County and lived there for some sixty years. During this time she no doubt heard other accounts from "old timers" of the area, and putting them together, came up with her version of the legend, a version not necessarily historically correct, but a version repeated by many of the older residents of Sierra County during her lifetime." I'll be posting a transcribed version of this series of articles, collected and presented by the Sierra County Historical Society on Dec.20, 1970.
One more point about names. The stabbing victim, was originally "Cannan," in the first news article, in 1851, but immediately afterward was corrected, I believe to "Cannon." No first name is given in the 1851 newspaper articles. The first time I have found an article providing a first name for him is the 1871 article, which names him Joseph Cannon, but note, that's the same article that renames her. Another, perhaps more reliable 1876 article reports the name on his grave marker as Frederick Cannon. That article was published in the Marysville Appeal. Marysville is 65 miles from Downieville, a bit closer than New York City, where the 1871 article first appeared, which is 2,772 miles away. Another 1851 article, which I'll be transcribing soon, and which I believe was written by a witness names him Alexander Augustus Cannon, and her Josefa. They both have many variations of their names in the many retellings.
More to come on Josefa. - MF
HANGED BY THE NECK TILL SHE WAS DEAD
Senator Felton Recounts Chapter in California's Dishonor
WOMAN VICTIM OF LYNCH LAW IN EARLY DAYS
DARK DEED AT DOWNIEVILLE STAINS STATE
Had Slain a Man in Defense of Her Honor, as She Said.
Since That Day Sex Has Been Spared Expiation on Gallows.
By JAMES H. WILKINS.
THE statute of limitations is about to run against many important incidents of California's early history. Indeed, the best part of it is gone beyond redemption, with the passing of its pioneers. But there is still much to be saved from oblivion among the few survivors of early days that throws a searchlight on the lives and manners of an eventful epoch, when men freed from legal, almost social, restraints, went nearly back to the primitive conditions of the race.
Concerning one event, the hanging of a woman at Downieville in 1851, after a trial by an improvised jury of miners, California has always had an uneasy conscience. It was referred to very briefly in contemporary newspapers as an unpleasant but highly salutary act. Only in Josiah Royce's California is any historical attempt made to narrate the facts.
WITNESS OF TRAGEDY SURVIVES.
It was, then, with some surprise that I found a living witness of this tragedy, sixty-three years old - a witness whose memory was clear and vivid, and familiar, likewise, with surrounding circumstances which lend a deeper interest to an act that remains a blot on common human nature.
This gentleman is Mr. Charles N. Felton, twice a Congressman from California, once a Senator of the United States and in his later years serving faithfully on the Board of Prison Directors. He came to Callfornia in 1849, landing in San Francisco with seven silver dimes, which capital has materially increased. After various picturesque ups and downs in the mines he engaged the business of transportation, by mule power, not steam; that is to say, he operated a large pack train between Marysville and the great mining camp in the mountains, Downieville.
FREIGHT AT 81 A POUND.
Packing was some business in the primitive days. A dollar a pound was the tariff from Marysville to the mines, with no Railroad Commission to declare the rate unreasonable and excessive. To be sure there were some drawbacks. To promote efficiency in the motive power department, during the fall and winter, it was necessary to load several animals with barley at 30 cents a pound for fodder on the Journey, and the animals were given a three days' rest at Downieville. Nevertheless, the net profits on a round trip, consuming about ten days, was from $6,000 to $8,000, with an equipment of eighty mules, such as the future Senator operated.
So it will appear that young Mr. Felton was peculiarly in touch with events in Downieville during the year of our Lord 1851 - in fact, was almost a resident of the camp.
A ROUGH CAMP.
The rough, criminal elements that poured in from Australia, from the Eastern frontier, from the Atlantic States and from the old world, had their heyday in the latter half of 1850, and through part of 1851. Downieville, the leading mining camp, was stirred to the depths by many robberies and acts of violence which had roused a spirit of reprisal and a determination to stamp out lawlessness at any cost. This is mentioned for whatever it may be worth, to explain, or in a degree mitigate, almost unthinkable atrocity that later took place.
While the community was thus in a state of tension, early one morning the news was spread through Downieville that a man had been murdered by a woman. A great crowd immediately assembled and a young Spanish woman, or rather girl - for she was under 20 - was brought before them as a prisoner, together with a man of her own race, supposed to be an accomplice.
ANTECEDENT CIRCUMSTANCES.
It is proper here to relate not only the facts of the homicide, but also the antecedent circumstances, not known at the moment, but afterwards fully proved. Two or three months before, the girl had come to Downieville and her beauty soon became the talk of the camp. She lived with a young Mexican, but whether in formal matrimony or in a natural relation was never fully determined. But this much is certain, her conduct was otherwise circumspect. Many vain attempts were made to engage her affections. Among other suitors was a young man by the name of Cannon, who spoke Spanish fluently. In offering his attentions, he had even gone to the length of attempting force. The night before his death, he was badly intoxicated, and, passing her house, remarked to his companions that here was his opportunity. Forthwith he burst in the frail door with his shoulder, falling inside the single room. The woman screamed in terror, while those present, in better possession of their senses, seized Cannon and dragged him away.
PROVOKED WOMAN USES KNIFE.
Early the next morning Cannon again passed the house, with an American companion. The young girl and her husband, or consort, were standing just beyond the door. Cannon began at once to talk to her in Spanish. What was said is only known by the statement of the woman, who claimed he had called her various vile names, in which the Spanish language is peculiarly rich. At all events, according to the American witness, she became violently enraged, suddenly drew a dagger and plunged it in Cannon's heart. He expired instantly.
The crowd which assembled in response to the news of the killing decided on summary measures. A "Judge" and twelve jurymen were selected. About the only evidence taken was that of the American witness, who testified that the killing was unprovoked, so far as he could see. The girl's explanation was regarded as a mere excuse, and suffered beside from being imperfectly translated from Spanish. At all events the jury was about to act when something happened that caused a halt.
DOCTORS DISAGREE.
A well-known physician presented himself, and, after being duly sworn, testified that he had recently examined the girl at her request and found her three months advanced in pregnancy. This was a facer, and might have proved effective, but the kindhearted doctor made the bad mistake of putting in an independent plea for clemency, or at least delay. Some one cried out that he was "prejudiced," and the evidence of another physician was demanded. A man stepped from the crowd and stated that he was a medical practitioner. The woman retired with the two experts to a private room.
After a long deliberation, they returned. The first doctor, stoutly adhering to his statement, declared the girl to be pregnant beyond any possible doubt. The other was voluble in his assertion that not a single evidence of pregnancy was visible. The jury considered this "conclusive." The woman was promptly sentenced to be hanged, the execution to take place within an hour.
MEN AND PLACES.
To understand the strange story of the tragedy that followed and its keenly dramatic setting, it is necessary to digress. Downieville was then in Yuba county, of which Marysville was the county seat, although in 1851 the former was much the larger place. Perhaps it was in compliment to its importance that a Democratic nominating convention had been held there the day before Cannon was killed. Marysville, long the mother of statesmen, had sent an impressive delegation and interested lookers-on, some of whom became nationally famous. William Walker was chairman of the convention, afterwards known as the filibuster ruler of Central America. Concerning this remarkable man, history has seen fit to do one of its characteristic injustices. If you read the alleged history of California by Bancroft, which is typical, you will be informed that Walker was of a low, brutal type, personally hideous and abhorrent, utterly depraved, unprincipled, a monster of cruelty, but with a horrible power of influencing for evil.
QUITE ANOTHER MAN.
But Senator Felton, who knew Walker familiarly for years, tells a very different story. He says that Walker was singularly handsome, with frank, open, captivating manners, finely educated, a brilliant lawyer, with the highest personal and professional ethics, of intrepid courage and every inch a gentleman. So far from being cold blooded and cruel, he was always taking the side of the weak and oppressed. Once, in Marysville, in 1854, when a mob was about to hang a man on general suspicion, Walker quickly collected five companions as brave as himself, and, with drawn revolvers, rescued the trembling victim from his executioners and locked him up in jail. His famous expedition to Nicaragua, with fifty comrades only, was really prompted more by a half romantic desire to help the popular faction in that distracted country than from any ambition for power. So much for history.
AN ILL-TIMED SCATTERING.
The county committee had been in session all day. The following morning the delegates scattered. Most of the Marysville contingent started at daybreak. Among them were Michael Gray, the heroic Sheriff of Yuba county, and and William Walker. Had they delayed an hour, this story would not be told. As it was, a messenger overtook the Sheriff and his party, informing him of the impending execution at Downieville, upon learning which they hastily turned back.
There were, however, a few of the Marysville contingent who remained, chiefly for the purpose of looking over the placers. As they were so engaged in the early morning, they knew nothing of what was in progress in town. It was not till afternoon that they learned that a woman was to be hanged in less than half an hour.
PLAN TO PREVENT TRAGEDY.
Six young men from Marysville met by chance on the streets and determined to prevent the tragedy, in any way possible. These were all known later to fame. Their names were Stephen J. Field, Charles S. Fairfax, George C. Gorham, William McKibben, William M. Stewart and Charles N. Felton. The first was later a Justice of the United States Supreme Court; the second was the last Lord Fairfax by direct descent, one of the most dashing and picturesque characters of the Pacific Coast; the third was secretary of the United States Senate for many years; the fourth became a member of Congress, and the last two Senators of the United States.
There was little time for forming plans, for already a vast crowd was collecting to witness the execution. The place selected was a small bridge. with a single overhead truss and open sides. Already, in expectation, a noosed rope attached to the truss was dangling in the breeze.
When the six young men reached the place, the, woman was already being conducted to the scene. She exhibited a degree of courage almost without parallel. At her request, she had been allowed to dress in her best clothes, wearing a trim suit of Mexican style that set off her slight girlish figure to good advantage, and a Panama hat with a bright colored band. As she walked ahead of her guard, unassisted, she seemed more like one on the way to a festival than to death.
Just as she reached the fatal bridge, by prearrangement Stephen J. Field mounted a box and in measured tones asked the attention of the crowd for a few minutes. The young man's prestige was very high and he was heard in respectful silence.
FIELD'S FORCEFUL APPEAL.
Field, from his earliest days, was a student and close thinker, rather than a man of impulse. Those who knew him later as a justice of the United States Supreme Court, grinding out decisions like a mere piece of legal mechanism, little dreamed that he was ever capable of a great emotional appeal. Yet the living testimony is that he made a noble, moving, all but irresistible effort. Rapidly covering the indecent haste, the lack of full investigation, the grave question of possible extenuating circumstances, he eloquently called on his hearers in the name of chivalry, in the name of justice, in the name of their mothers, sisters and wives, to pause before committing an act that i would be a blot on the good name of California and curse everyone connected with it for the rest of their lives.
THE CRY FOR VENGEANCE.
Something like a flutter of applause swept through the crowd as Field concluded. He had made a distinctly favorable impression. Fairfax, Gorham and the others moved rapidly among the crowd, endeavoring to turn the situation to the woman's advantage. They were quickly changing public sentiment, when another speaker asked to be heard.
This man, Samuel Spear by name, also was from Marysville, a lawyer of some standing. The first thought was that he would support the argument of Mr. Field. But those who entertained that view were quickly undeceived. He called for vengeance, invoked all the stock arguments favoring capital punishment, made most insiduous sic appeal to the blood lust of the crowd, and ended with a plea that his hearers might not yield to weakness because the offender was a woman.
The situation was dramatic and intense. Cries of "Hang her! Hang her!" arose from the crowd. By an apparently prearranged movement, Field, Fairfax and their four porters were suddenly overpowered.
DIED LIKE A HEROINE.
The girl had been standing all this time in an open space near the dangling rope. Several men stepped forward. She waved them back. In a clear, steady voice she spoke for a few minutes in the Spanish tongue, which probably not one in a hundred of her hearers understood. What she said was this: That she had been taught to defend her honor by any means in her power; that if her act deserved death, according to the American code, she was ready to die, but had no apologies to offer. With that, she bowed, threw aside her hat, drew the noose around her own neck, and, saying "Adios, mis amigo" ("farewell, my friends"), folded her arms and stood erect, with the dignity and pride of a dying queen.
A dozen rough hands pushed her off the bridge to her death.
The old Senator straightened up in his easy chair with something of the '49 fire in his eyes.
"It was a damned, cowardly, inhuman crime," he said.
TWO OR ONE?
Further details are necessary to make the story complete.
Did two lives go out or only one, when the woman was hung? That query cannot be certainly answered. The doctor who declared her pregnant, wished to make an autopsy to prove his statement. But a committee decided that it had become a "moot" question and, moreover, was covered by the well known fundamental maxim maxim "de minimis non curat lex." So the woman and her secret were consigned to an unknown grave.
AN HOUR TOO LATE
Sheriff Gray, William Walker and their party galloped into town an hour too late. They bitterly denounced the hanging - Fairfax and Walker raged around like madmen. They hunted for Samuel Spear, high and low, and would undoubtedly have killed him, but he remained in discreet concealment. A few days later, Fairfax met him in a public place in Marysville, denounced him as a cur and murderer and spat in his face. Spear pocketed the insult, and was socially ostracized. Later he was exposed, not only as a coward, but as a crook.
What Stephen J. Field foreshadowed in his speech, actually took place. In a week a tremendous reaction swept over Downieville. The real facts concerning the killing of Cannon came to the surface, and people understood the tremendous provocation that really justified the act.
MARKED MEN.
Inconsistent as it may appear, where almost the entire community was involved, the Judge and jury who convicted the woman were singled out for popular detestation. They and a few other prominent actors became marked men to such an extent that they sought other fields.
In a month every man in Downieville openly denounced the execution. In six months not a man would admit that he had witnessed it.
Several contemporary papers, referring to the tragedy, expressed the belief
that the effect would be "salutary." They were right. The effect was very
"salutary." The horror of the thing spread over California and created a
revulsion of feeling against capital punishment in general that, for the time
being, saved many a life,
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