Our man, Manuel Domínguez, inheritor of Rancho San
Pedro, took an active role in the public life of the pueblo. He served four
times in one-year terms as primero alcalde or segundo alcalde (something
like an assistant mayor) beginning in 1832 when he was only 29 years of age. The
sketchy records of the time make it difficult to ascertain the specific role
played by any one individual. What is clear is that a select group of Dons
shared the duties of governing the pueblo among them. Familiar names like
Dominguez, Tapia, Carillo, Soto, Alvarado, Cota, and Sepúlveda
appear regularly in various official capacities.
The Wisdom of Solomon
Early Los
Angeles had a calaboose, a small jail house for rowdies and miscreants, but
nothing like an adequate penal system. The nearest presidio was 100 miles away in Santa Barbara. As a result, justice
was often dispensed summarily – generally by hanging for serious crimes or by
more creative means for minor transgressions and civil cases.
In his various official capacities, Manuel Domínguez
was called upon to act as judge in a number of cases. The Los Angeles Municipal
Archives provide us with a record of one case where Dominguez did, indeed, have
to employ the wisdom of Solomon. In July 1839, a case came before Segundo Alcalde Dominguez involving a
piece of lumber taken from a beach. The English translation of the Spanish
document reads:
“Morillo [is] suing Sepúlveda
for taking a piece of lumber from the beach on the place called La Bolsa, and
having commenced to work the same. The case was properly ventilated and after
some arguments, a conclusion was arrived at that the piece of lumber in
question belonged to both litigants and it was decided to divide the same and
each receive a half with the only conditions that Sepulveda deliver the half
belonging to Morillo at the door of the latter’s house in compensation for his
having done the work of sawing the same.”
Some of the
sense of this matter is a bit lost in translation, but we can guess that there
may have been more than one piece of lumber at stake; perhaps a matter of
boundaries or personal honor was in play. Unlike the baby at the heart of King
Solomon’s famous decision, the pile of lumber that Morillo had created from a
found log or logs was cut in half.
Domínguez may have had his own interests in mind in
splitting his decision. While Justo Morillo was likely a commoner, if a
landholder, who signed the decision with an “X,” José
Sepúlveda was a prominent Don and one with whom Domínguez maintained an
ongoing and litigious feud regarding the boundary between their respective
ranchos. It might not do to add fuel to the fire by ruling against him.
There are other
interesting things to note about the document. It makes reference to the “good
men” who accompanied the litigants: Don Vicente la Osa and Don Ygnacio Coronel.
Apparently, it was common for such hombres
buenos to act as advisors to both the litigants and to the judge. Their
signatures on the document attest to their approval of the decision.
It is also
interesting to note that a form of due process was allowed to vecinos like Morillo, although he surely
did not have the same standing as the Dons.
Nor was this
the only case in which Alcalde Domínguez
was forced to think on his feet. Apparently, horse-racing was a big source of
both entertainment and litigation in those days. In one case unearthed from the
Los Angeles County Archives by Robert Gillingham, author of The Rancho San Pedro, Domínguez settled a disputed horse race by
ordering that the race be re-run within 21 days and that a member of the town
council act as judge.
Sources include:
Robert Cameron Gillingham, Ph.D., The Rancho San Pedro, 1961.
David Samuel Torres-Rouff, Before L.A.: Race, Space, and
Municipal Power in Los Angeles, 1781-1894, 2013.
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