GREAT EXPECTATIONS Chapter Six

 

I think Guadalajara is one of the most surprising cities in North America. It's name has Arabic roots, wadi l-ijara, meaning “the valley of the stones”, which hints at the Medieval Moorish occupation of Spain, mother country to Mexico. And Guadalajara's university, founded in 1791, helped make the capital of Jalisco Province an economic power house.

But when James Reavis, Cryil Baratt and Rufus C. Hopkins arrived in the winter of 1882, the town was struggling from the Yaqui Wars (above), 60 years of racial bloodshed, during which Indian tribes rebelled 27 times against enslavement and oppressive government. It was only the Catholic church's obsession with order and precedent which saved the region's Spanish history.  And that is what drew our trio of gringos to this cultural island.

Seventy year old Rufus C. Hopkins was probably the worst man Surveyor General Robbins could have picked to send on this mission, as his only qualification was that he could read the Spanish used in old land grants. Reavis and Baratt hovered around the old man, distracting him by introducing him to the archivists, the priests and clerks. 

They were ever eager to point out important documents and even discovering a previously unknown copy of the 1748 "cedulare" approving the Peralta grant. This latest discovery was important, since nothing would discourage doubters looking closer into the grant than the threat they would only stumble over more evidence supporting it. The old man was clearly convinced. His report would confirm Reavis' claim. Unfortunately for James Reavis, back in Tucson Arizona, things had taken a turn for the worse.

Rufus Hopkin's boss, Joseph W. Robbins, had died of tuberculosis while the trio were down in Guadalajara. His replacement was his own chief clerk, Royal A. Johnson, and he was healthy and had a healthy skepticism about Rufus Hopkin's report on the Peralta grant. He noted that tucked away in the back of Hopkins' report was the note that the only records in Guadalajara which mentioned the Peralta Grant, were those which specifically dealt with it. In discussing the desire for Spanish troops to deal with the Apache, for instance, there was no mention of the grant, even though it was smack in the middle of Apache land, and it was claimed Don Miguel Peralta had been driven off “his” grant by the Apache. This was why Rufus Hopkins' report, like all good historical scholarship, could only say that after a cursory examination there was nothing to disprove the legality of the grant.

James Reavis (above), of course, took much more forceful interpretation of the report. He and Cryil Baratt began spreading the rumor that the American government was about to offer him $100 million for the Grant. And given Huntington and Croker's political friends in Washington, that was not impossible. Reavis had already refused to sell another right-away quick claim, similar to the one Huntington's Southern Pacific had bought, to the competing Texas and Pacific Railroad, which was trying to fulfill James Gadsden old dream of connecting the southern states to the Pacific ocean. With all land rights in Arizona now uncertain, and without a quick claim of its own, the banks withdrew their support for the Texas and Pacific, and progress on that railroad came to a halt. Crocker and Huntington's investment in Reavis was already paying dividends.

Meanwhile Reavis and his bodyguard, Pedro Cuervo, had recruited a small army of thugs who were shaking down every farmer, rancher, miner, home and business owner in Arizona for anything from $1,000 to a free meal in exchange for an immediate quit claim on their properties. Many paid up. Those who resisted found their businesses vandalized, their employees beaten, crops and barns burned and wells fouled. 

Typical of Reavis' methods was the treatment for Tom Weedin (above), editor of the "Florence Enterprise" in Pinal County, about 40 miles southeast of Phoenix.  Reavis offered Weedin the standard bribe, and when Weedin said no, his offices were burned to the ground. Weedin then responded by forming an “Anti-Reavis” committee, to raise money to oppose his thugs in court. Similar committees sprang up in Phoenix, Tucson and Tempe. To Weedin it felt like rowing against the tide. 

Cuervo's bandits squeezed an estimated $5.3 million out of Arizona in 1884 - the modern equivalent of one hundred sixty-two million dollars. That was a profit even Crocker and Huntington could appreciate. Organized crime had been turned loose on the libertarian wonderland of the Old West, where almost everybody carried a gun. And contrary to modern theory, the result was that citizens were left screaming for government activism – and immediately! 

Reavis was feeling confident enough to build himself La Hacienda de Peralta, a fortress with a nine foot wall enclosing servants quarters, stables, barns, a well, and a ten room redwood mansion, with running water inside. 

He built his outpost just south of the ruins of Casa Granda, about 80 miles south of Phoenix and about 60 miles north of the Mexican border - should a quick escape be required. He called it Arizola, and began referring to himself as the Baron de Arizona.

The only trouble was a lawsuit filed by the Territorial Attorney General, Clark Churchill (above), claiming that Reavis had no right to property owned by the Territory of Arizona, because he lacked clear title to the grant. It was the weak point in Reavis' claim. There were still people alive who had been in Black Canyon in 1864 and none of them could recall a Miguel Peralta working a mine there. And in May of 1885 the territorial court granted clear title to the Attorney General. The Tucson Citizen newspaper headlined, “Reavis Nailed Up”

In a letter dated 2 May, 1885, The Arizona Land Commissioner, W.A. Sparks, wrote to Surveyor Royal Johnson, “The essential foundation of a recognizable claim under the laws of Spain and the treaties and laws of the United States does not appear in this case. It is my opinion that the futile work in which you have been engaged for a year...should forthwith be discontinued.”  Johnson agreed, writing back that he hoped “...the many schemes concocted by bad men...will now cease....(and) we shall have no further connection with this grant.”

Almost over night, income from the shakedowns for quit claims dried up and Cuervo's thugs returned to whatever they had been doing before Cuervo had hired them. Feeling the ground shifting under his feet, Reavis caught a Southern Pacific train for California. But if James Reavis was looking for more support from his financial backers, Huntington and Crocker, he did not get it. The delay of the Texas and Pacific railroad had been their primary concern, and it had been stopped. 

But another ally did appear, when George Hearst (above), new owner of the San Francisco Examiner, and father to William Randolph Hearst, and friend to both Huntington and Crocker. He decided to back Reavis with favorable publicity in his paper.  Still, Mr Crocker, warned that the weak point remained the 1864 bill of sale to George Willing.  It had been written on a scrap of paper, and, frankly Mr. Huntington had doubts that it would stand up in court. Didn't Reavis have anything stronger?

Once again, as had happened so many times before in this story, James Reavis did have something more up his sleeve. He had a little lady he had met on a train back in 1871. Reavis had stayed in contact with her, exchanging letters, and even paying for her to attend "finishing" school. And now she was right where and when Reavis needed her to be, and she was even who he needed her to be; Sofia Peralta, sole surviving heir to the Peralta Land Grant. With her appearance, the bill of sale became irrelevant. 

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GREAT EXPECTATIONS Chapter Five

 

I believe James Reavis put a lot of thought into choosing the tiny Sanford, Arizona Territory (above), capital of Graham County, to file his first claim to the Peralita grant. In October of 1882 the entire county had less than 5,000 residents, and a newly established weekly paper, The Graham County News, which  would last less than a year before the publisher had to relocate, 

Safford (above) was  a collection of bars and stables and an adobe county courthouse,  which sat in the barren Sonora Desert, at the foot of the Pinaleno Mountains, 165 miles southeast of Phoenix. But it was only 30 miles west of the New Mexico territorial  border, and just 100 miles north of the border with old Mexico.  In short, it was not near anywhere or anything except two exits over a legal border.

Reavis filed his papers with the probate court, laying claim to George Willing's ownership of the Peralta grant (above). But other then stamping the date on his paperwork, the probate court lacked authority to judge the validity of the Peralta Grant itself.  And Reavis wanted them to do just that because  Sanford was within the confines of the grant, which ran into New Mexico. Could it be that the master forger was nervous? Or had he been traversing the empty dessert, leaving false clues to the grant's validity, and was now anxious to get started? It did not matter for long, because his next move made a very large and well publicized splash.

It was Tuesday, 27 March, 1883, when an odd trio of villains stormed into the Tucson offices of Joseph W. Robbins, Surveyor General for the entire Arizona territory.  First came the bewhiskered, well dressed James Reavis (above), followed by Cryil Baratt, a dis-bard California lawyer and alcoholic, serving as James' legal adviser. One story says that Reavis found Cyril in a San Francisco gutter and the kindred spirits had formed an immediate bond. 

Bringing up the rear was a fire plug named Pedro Cuervo, carrying in three large trunks of documents, one after another. Pedreo was Reavis' new body guard and enforcer. And once those trunks were opened, Reavis would need all the protection his wealthy California backers could afford.

His filing began boldly; “The petition of James Addison Reavis respectfully sets forth: That he is owner, by purchase from the legal heirs and representatives of the original grantee, of a certain tract of land (12 1/2 million acres - roughly from Phoenix, Arizona to Silver City,  New Mexico),  granted on the third day of January, 1758, by the Viceroy of New Spain to Don Miguel Peralta, Baron of the Coloradoes under royal decree of the King of Spain, directing such grant to be made to the said Peralta in consideration of and as a reward for distinguished military services rendered to the Crown in the war of Spain...”

Now, Joseph Robbins might be the Surveyor General for the Arizona territory, but he was a political appointee, and had no experience with a theodolite. And he knew almost nothing about Spanish or Mexican history. He'd been a newspaper owner in Wichita, Kansas and a good Republican before receiving his current position. But as he watched his staff notarize the seemingly endless series of documents, many with what looked like the official stamps and seals of Spain and Mexico, a panic began to build in his throat. These men were laying claim to an area larger than the combined states of Maryland and New Jersey, with the District of Columbia thrown in as well.

Second of the documents was the typed translation of Phillip V's royal credula, dated 20 December, 1740. This was followed by the report of the Mexican Inquisition favoring the grant, and the 1758 Mexican Viceroy's confirmation. Then came a statement written by Don Miguel Nemecio Silva de Peralta de la Corboda himself, describing the exact location he had chosen for the grant. 

Then from the trunk was drawn the petition from Peralta to King Carlos III of Spain (above), requesting confirmation of the grant, followed by that confirmation granted in Madrid om 20 January, 1776. Next Reavis produced a letter to Don Meguel's son, signed by Santa Ana, President of Mexico. There were even three photographs of pages from the record book of the Mission of San Xavier del Bac, showing the originals of the previous documents. 

Then Reavis and Cryil Baratt, produced a copy of Miguel Peralta's will, dated January, 1788, and the 1864 quick claim bill of sale signed in Black Canyon (above), selling the entire grant to George Willing.  And last but not least, came the power of attorney from May Ann Willing to James Reavis. All of that was in the first trunk. And there were two more trunks of documents to go.

Public notice of the claim was now filed in newspapers in Tucson, Phoenix and Prescott. The reaction was strongest in Phoenix, the largest town which fell within the claim. Suddenly every business owner, home owner, mine owner and farmer knew their property rights were in question. 

The town's two newspapers, the Herald and the Gazette, both declared war on James Reavis. Both papers questioned the validity of the grant, urged their readers not to sign any agreements with Reavis, and condemned the practice of "quit claim" sales.  Briefly, it looked as if the population would present a untied front. But almost immediately there were three serious defections.

The first to cut a deal with Reavis was Col. James M. Barney (above). He had bought the Silver King Mine a few years earlier, paying over half a million dollars. That mine was now digging on an 87 foot wide vein of silver ore, on three levels, the deepest 110 feet down, and was producing over $6 million of silver a year. In June of 1883 the old cavalryman paid Reavis $25,000 for a quit claim on his mine. It was chump- change to Barney, and just good business. But it sent a shiver down the spines of every other property owner in the territory.

This was followed by word that the Southern Pacific Railroad, which was building its way eastward toward Phoenix, had also bought a quitclaim for a right-of-way into the territory for $50,000. What the terrified residents did not know was that the owners of the S.P. -  Huntington, Crocker and their partners, were also the men who were funding Reavis and his vultures. In essence, the S.P. was paying itself for the right of way into Phoenix.

The next major defector was an even harder blow to resisters. Homer H. McNeil was a significant property owner in Phoenix, and the owner and publisher of The Gazette. First rumors of the McNeil's defection started when the Gazette began to tone down its editorials, and in November word was leaked to the Herald that McNeal had indeed paid a quit claim for all his property, including the Gazette's office. McNeal was threatened on the streets, and even his friends stopped speaking to him. The newspaperman tried to return his quit claim to Mr. Reavis, and get his money back.  But Reavis was no longer in town.

James Reavis and his lawyer disbarred lawyer Cryil Baratt were down in Guadalajara, looking over the shoulder of the man Surveyor General Robbins had sent down to Mexico to investigate the claim -  Mr. Rufus C. Hopkins. But Rufus would prove to be a terrible choice as an investigator.

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GREAT EXPECTATIONS Chapter Four

 

I suppose the luckiest moment in the history of Phoenix, Arizona occurred when the first settlers decided to reject the suggestion of its founder,  Jack Swilling,  that they should name their new town  after the Confederate General "Stonewall" Jackson".  Instead they listened to the more educated voice of Phillip Darrell Duppa, an Englishman who had been versed in the classics. 

Phillip (above) liked to call himself “Lord Duppa”,  a  title delivered with a self depreciating grin, which really sold it. The limey  had the romantic idea that the ugly little adobe town founded between the White Tank Mountains and the Salt River was a place of rebirth, a spot where new life could rise from the ashes of the old, like the mythical Phoenix Bird. And that appealed to the survivors of the Civil War, from both sides. On the other hand it was really bad luck for the town when James Reavis stepped off the California stagecoach in Phoenix, to raise the fake Peralta Land Grant from its ashes.

Phoenix was not legally a town yet when Reavis arrived in April of 1880. That would happen in February of the following year.  But already the place had almost 2,500 citizens, a couple of churches, a school on Center Street, 16 saloons, four dance halls, a bank and a telegraph connection to the outside world. And Huntington and Cooke's  railroad was already reaching out from San Diego, although it had not reached Phoenix yet. But publicly James Reavis showed no interest in any of that. 

He told people he was a subscription agent for the San Francisco Examiner, but he sold very few subscriptions. He read the local paper, he listened when people talked , and he gauged the spirit of the place. 

He even traveled the 15 miles out to where the seasonal Salt River and the perennial Gila Rivers met, and clambered about over the hills for an hour or so. On his return to town, he boarded the stagecoach for the terrible one hundred mile journey north, into the mountains, to the territorial capital of Prescott.

Repeated conflagrations had forced this mining town of less than 2,000 to begin building in brick, including a new court house (above).  It was in that building in May of 1880 that James Reavis presented a letter from George’s Willing's widow, granting him authority to act in her name and take possession of the bill of sale for the Peralta land grant. And once he had this bill of sale in his hand, James caught the next coach bound for San Francisco.

Once back in the city by the bay,  Reavis now oversaw an English translation of  the Royal Credula -  “The King's Debt” - the fake land grant supposedly made by the Spanish King. This had of course originally been written in English, by Reavis' conspirators back in St. Louis. But now Reavis had actually seen the land, and could make minor changes in the translation to reflect the actual terrain.  

After discussions with Huntington and Crocker, James Reavis decided to expand the size of the grant, placing its very center at the confluence of the Salt and Gila rivers,. which he had visited on his day trip. Contained within the grant now were the towns of Phoenix, Tempe and Casa Granda.  Reavis added a helpful note from the powerful Inquisition of New Spain, dated 1757 (above),  assuring the Viceroy there was no impediment to the grant,...

...and a statement from the lucky recipient, Don Miguel de Peralta, himself, dated 1758, which defined the western boundary so as to reach 50 miles eastward  to Silver City, New Mexico territory, to include the Silver King Mine, whose deposits under Chloride Flats produced $10,000 out of every ton of ore pried from it's tunnels. Preparing this new old paperwork took the entire winter of 1880-81.

In July of 1881 Reavis finally made it to Sacramento, to repay Florin Massaol and get his hands on the mineral rights which George Willing had pawned back in 1874.  In the end, however, Massaol was so impressed by the people backing Reavis, the old forger got what he wanted for only the cost of a railroad ticket. All Reavis had to do was sign yet another promissory note, agreeing to pay Massol $3,000 if and when the Peralta grant was confirmed by an American court. In exchange Massaol signed over power of attorney on the mineral rights to Reavis  That's all Reavis wanted, anyway. It as not as if he had any intention of ever digging for gold or silver himself.

Reavis then boarded a train for Washington, D.C., seeking the record book of the Mission San Xavier del Bac, located just south of Phoenix, Arizona, and a benchmark used for the grant. 

The book had been the territories' contribution to the Centennial Exposition (above) in Philadelphia in 1876. After the exhibition had closed, the book,  along with other exhibits, had been moved to Washington, D.C..  It was still there, and Reavis was permitted access to the book because of his contacts with wealthy Californians.  Had the book still been in Arizona such “friends” might have been a source of suspicion, but in far off Washington the other rule about museum curators came into play - they never miss an opportunity to impress a potential wealthy patron. Reavis was allowed to spend several days in private,  going over the book. In September he continued his odyssey in Mexico City, and then on to Guadalajara..

In both Mexican cities James Reavis bonded with the archivists, the librarians and probate clerks in charge of the documents and records he needed. He told them he was a correspondent for San Francisco newspapers, looking for stories about the roots of California families, and probably paid them for small “favors” he received. And when he returned to California in late November of 1881, he had photographs of the documents, as well as typed translations and certified copies, all paid for by his wealthy investors. 

Six months later he was in Lexington, Kentucky (above), agreeing to pay George Willing's widow, May Ann, $50,000 for the free and clear ownership of the Peralta grant – 50% more than George had paid for it in 1863 – a transaction which, in reality, had never taken place. The monies to be paid once the Federal Government recognized the validity of the grant.

This proves again the central rule of capitalism, which is that everything has a value, defined as what people are willing to pay for what they want. And in most capitalist endeavors, the first step is to create the want. And that is what James Reavis was about to do.

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GREAT EXPECTATIONS Chapter Three

 

I doubt most Americans remember James Gadsden (above) . In 1840 this ex-army officer became president and primary shareholder in the South Carolina Rail Road Company.  And only three things stood between him driving that railroad across Georgia, Alabama, Mississippi, Louisiana, and Texas, all the way to the Pacific Ocean.  

First, his railroad was only 135 miles long and went no further west than the Georgia border (above). Second, it was over $3 million in debt ($64 million today). And third, in 1840 everything west of Texas still belonged to Mexico. But Mr. Gadsden was not willing to concede defeat before even starting. And because he was not, James Addison Reavis would have a golden opportunity to become one of the richest thieves in America – call it another unforeseen consequence.

By 1840 there were two routes under consideration for the first transcontinental railroad. The central route, favored by the business interests in New York and Chicago. It started in Missouri and followed the trail blazed by wagon trains already heading to the newly discovered California gold fields. The route favored by Mr, Gadsden and most southern politicians, started in either South Carolina or Georgia. However, the southerners could not decide between themselves on how to finance their railroad.  And Gadsden was too arrogant to form a consensus from his own allies. The only thing the southerners could agree upon was that they could not allow the central route to be used. So as long as the south had a veto, any transcontinental railroad would remain a dream.

The Mexican War (1846-1848) had given America a vast new empire north of the Rio Grande River, comprising what would be the states of  Texas, California, Nevada, Arizona and New Mexico.  But even this conquest failed to supply an acceptable route for a southern transcontinental railroad. And the "Compromise of 1850" made things even worse. In exchange for relieving Texas of its huge public debt, Texas came in as a slave state and California was admitted as a “free” state. After that, no matter who built the transcontinental railroad or where they built it - and they couldn't sidetrack into Mexico, because slavery had been outlawed there since the 1845  -   the end of the line would now be a  “free state”.  

Desperate to lure the Golden State back to the slavery side, even it it required cutting it in half, in 1851 the argumentative Gadsden (above) offered to supply 1,200 new settlers, if California would also admit “not less than two thousand...African domestics” into southern California. The ploy fooled nobody, and the proposal never got out of committee in the California legislature.  Defeated again, Gadsden decided to salvage what small part of the plan he still had some control over.

If he couldn't find a way around the Mexican border beyond Texas, Gadsden decided to move the border. With assistance from Mississippi's Jefferson Davis, who at the time was President Franklin Pierce's Secretary of War, Gadsden won appointment as an agent of the United States Government, authorized to buy a southern railroad route. Now, again, the one thing James Gadsden did not have were negotiating skills, and the minute he arrived in Mexico City and opened his mouth,  he offended the entire nation of Mexico. But Gadsden was in luck, because at the time (1853), the entire Mexican government consisted of one ego maniac, General Antonio Lopez de la Santa Ana.

This was Santa Anna's sixth go around as President-slash- dictator of Mexico. He is remembered in America for his capture of the Alamo, and killing “Davy” Crockett. But in Mexico he is remembered because he never seemed to learn from his mistakes, which constantly seems to have surprised the Mexican people. Every time a crises occurred, they turned to Santa Ana,  and he kept responding by looting the country and then burning it down to destroy the evidence. Typically, in 1853, Mexico was broke, and unable to pay her army. So no matter how many ways James Gadsden insulted him, and he did find many ways of doing that, Santa Anna could not walk away from the negotiating table,  because Gadsden was offering cash money.

The resulting Gadsden Purchase acquired 30,000 square miles of fertile farmland, harsh desserts  and valuable mineral deposits, and a railroad route over the lower end of the Rocky Mountains, all for  the bargain basement price of $15 million – about thirty-three cents an acre. From the American point of view it was a great deal. From the Mexican point of view, it was rape. But really, nobody actually involved in the deal got what they wanted. The generals Santa Ana paid off with the American cash were so offended by the deal, they overthrew Santa Anna again, and sent him into retirement for the sixth and final time. 

James Gadsden had so exhausted himself offending the Mexicans, he died the day after Christmas, 1858, and so missed the start of the American Civil War. But when the south went into rebellion in 1861 the north was free to finally build the transcontinental railroad via the central route  - which they finished in 1869. And when Gadsden's dream of the southern transcontinental would finally be built in 1881, it would profit the same western men who had built the original central route out of California -  Collis Potter Huntington and Charles Crocker.

Crocker (above) was a 49'er from Indiana, who made his first fortune selling shovels to miners in Sacramento. Then he went into banking, and he was one of Big Four who formed the Central Pacific Railroad, the western end of the transcontinental. In fact "Charles Crocker and Company" was the prime contractor on the Central Pacific Railroad. Of course the shareholders in "Croker and Company" were the same men who owned the Southern Pacific. This is known as the "heads I win, tails you lose" school of finance. By 1877, the big Hoosier had so much money, he was running out of things to buy. And at that fortuitous moment, who should Croker meet but a slightly sleazy newspaper man named James Addison Reavis.

Reavis told Croker the story of the Peralta land grant. Of course he probably did not mention that the land grant was a myth. Probably. But Crocker and a few other select California investors were willing to fund more research into the claim. Did they ever believe in the validity of the grant? They would have smiled at that question, and regarded it as unimportant. The only thing that matters in the world of Capitalism, is what you can afford to prove in court.  And James Reavis could now afford to research the heck out of the Peralta land grants. And this old forger figured he stood a pretty good chance of finding every single document he went looking for. In fact, he could guarantee it.

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