Ever since the discovery of gold 170 years ago in January 1848, California has been known as a society replete with oddballs and eccentrics. None fit the bill better than Joshua Abraham Norton I, self-proclaimed first Emperor of the United States and Protector of Mexico.
Joshua A. Norton the Emperor was pestered and teased by some, but instead of confining him in an insane asylum the San Francisco community graciously adopted the newly eccentric ex-merchant as town mascot.
Norton was not your typical ‘49er. He was one of the few who had arrived with some money in his wallet. Born in London, England, 200 years ago in 1818, his family immigrated to South Africa as a pioneering Jewish household. It was at Cape Town that Norton was educated and then trained in business. In 1849, after his parents and only brother died, Norton sailed for San Francisco with a $40,000 inheritance to invest in California’s booming gold rush economy. He built California’s first rice mill for the rapidly growing Asian population in both San Francisco and the gold fields. Norton also opened a cigar factory and invested in real estate and brokerage businesses. By 1853, his inheritance had blossomed into assets worth $250,000.
In the late 1850s, civil unrest, drought and famine struck China. The government banned rice exports in order to feed starving Chinese. In San Francisco, the price of rice shot up from 4 cents a pound to 36 cents. Norton heard that there was a recently arrived ship in port loaded with 200,000 pounds of Peruvian rice, which if acted on quickly, he could buy for $25,000 or about 12 cents a pound. He figured that he could turn around and sell it for $72,000, but before he could cash in on the scheme, two cargo ships loaded with rice steamed into San Francisco Bay and the price crashed. Norton tried to back out of the deal and ultimately spent the next three years in litigation. The protracted court battle caused such financial strain that he couldn’t make loan payments and his banker, William Tecumseh Sherman, later to become a Civil War general, foreclosed on him.
After losing everything, Norton declared bankruptcy and mysteriously vanished for months. He reappeared in San Francisco as Norton the First, Emperor of the United States. Clad in a ragged blue military uniform, complete with gold braid, brass buttons and epaulets. On Sept. 17, 1859, the San Francisco Bulletin published a pronouncement: “At the request and desire of a large majority of San Francisco citizens, I, Joshua Norton, declare and proclaim myself Emperor of these United States.”
Norton the Emperor was pestered and teased by some, but instead of confining him in an insane asylum the San Francisco community graciously adopted the newly eccentric ex-merchant as town mascot. When passing him in the street, people invariably saluted, bowed or in some other respectful manner, acknowledged their “Emperor.” A tireless walker, Norton patrolled the city streets every day, making certain that all sidewalks were clear of obstructions, roadwork was proceeding correctly and that the police were properly on duty.
Throughout his 20-year reign, Emperor Norton issued proclamations and edicts. He hated the nickname “Frisco” for his adopted hometown and published a decree stating, “Whoever after due and proper warning shall be heard to utter the abdominal word ‘Frisco,’ which has no linguistic or other warrant, shall be deemed guilty of a High Misdemeanor.” The penalty for non-compliance was $25.
As Norton’s fame spread, businessmen and merchants actually offered him the tribute and special treatment that he expected. He ate at fancy restaurants as guest of the house and never paid for theater tickets or other places of amusement. If an uninformed waiter or clerk presented Norton with a bill, customers chipped in to pay. On his frequent excursions to dinner or theater, Norton was sometimes followed by two opportunistic street canines, Bummer and Lazarus, who begged for food scraps.
Emperor Norton was even allowed to issue bonds and cash his own scrip. These bogus financial instruments were elaborately designed and printed free of charge by local print shops and honored by businesses and banks around town.
Norton may have lost touch with reality, but he found an inner tranquility for peaceful living. His remarkably altruistic goals, aspirations and progressive social morals were not lost on fellow San Franciscans. When Norton died suddenly of apoplexy (stroke) while standing on the corner of California Street and Grant Avenue on Jan. 8, 1880, the city mourned his death as they would a monarch. Flags flew at half mast, businesses closed and more than 30,000 people followed his funeral cortege to the Masonic cemetery where Emperor Norton was buried with all the fanfare and ceremony that real royalty would have received.
Norton may have suffered from an “unbalanced mind,” but in the decades after his death, many of his prescient ideas found fruition in reality. Despite his slovenly appearance and ludicrous faux dignity, Norton anticipated and proffered practical solutions for many future events. Among his sound and sober economic and political prognostications was using landfill to expand San Francisco into the bay; the approaching Civil War (immediate naval blockade by the North); construction of the “impossible” Golden Gate Bridge (its correct location and possible technical feasibility utilizing innovative cable suspension); the evils of dominant democratic and republican parties that lead to politics of dissension (abolish both of the parties); and he called for a League of Nations to settle international disputes (United Nations).
Maybe more importantly, when San Francisco’s white dominated Vigilance Committee known as the “601” marched on Chinatown, Norton stood in the street before the rabble and bowed his head in prayer. The Vigilantes dispersed. He also supported civil rights for African Americans and other minorities in his proclamations. Emperor Norton I “ruled” San Francisco with a gentle and benevolent hand. He once was taken into police custody for lunacy, but officials later released him with the simple statement, “He has shed no blood, robbed no one, and despoiled no country.” The residents of San Francisco grew to love the eccentric who exhibited such sincere concern for his subjects and saw him an amicable ambassador for, and recipient of, generosity and good will.
In 1934, Ernest Wiltsee, president of the Emperor Norton Memorial Association, wrote, “There have been other Emperors in the history of this world who have been out of their minds — their reigns were marked by violence and atrocity. But ours showed charity towards all, and loving kindness and benevolence were in his heart.”
Cheers to that.
