In the 1870s, several economic crises came about in parts of the United States and many
Americans lost their jobs.
From this, a movement against Chinese immigrant labor arose throughout the American West,
leading to the creation of the Workingmen’s Party organization and an anti-Chinese attitude
in places like San Francisco.
On the afternoon in question, a group of Chinese immigrants find themselves surrounded on the
street by a mob of angry out-of-work Americans, and it appears that a riot is on the verge
of breaking out.
But before the first brick can be thrown or shot fired, a vagrant in a tattered, blue
Army officer’s uniform steps between the two parties.
He wears a beaver hat decorated with a large peacock feather, and the only weapons in his
possession are a rusted sabre and a cane, which he uses to walk.
The vagrant is Joshua Abraham Norton - The Emperor of the United States - and before
we continue, you must first learn how it was that he came to power.
Norton was born in London, England on February 4, 1818, but his mother and father soon moved
to South Africa as part of a government-backed colonization scheme.
They worked there for many years as merchants, eventually amassing a small fortune.
After his mother died in 1846, and his father in 1848, Norton inherited their wealth and
sailed west to America, arriving in San Francisco in late 1849.
At the age of 29, and with $40,000 in hand, or, the equivalent of 1.1 million dollars
by today’s standards, he opened a business selling mining supplies in an effort to capitalize
on the gold rush.
Though eccentric, Norton was a brilliant businessman, and he soon jumped into real estate, buying
up the land which is now known as Cow Hollow.
Within no time at all, he became one of the most well-respected and wealthy businessmen
in San Francisco.
In December of 1852, Norton struck upon a new business venture: at the time, China was
facing a severe famine, and had responded by placing a ban on the export of rice.
This caused the price of grain in San Francisco, and places all across the Americas to skyrocket
by over 800%.
A business contact tipped Norton off to an incoming ship that supposedly contained the
last haul of Peruvian rice that would be sent to America that year.
Norton decided to corner the rice market, and when the ship arrived to the mainland,
he quickly invested $25,000 into the venture and purchased the entire 200,000 pound shipment.
Norton’s dreams of having a monopoly on grain soon vanished, however, when, less than
a week later, two more ships containing Peruvian rice arrived, causing the market price to
plummet to even lower than before the famine had hit China.
Incensed, Norton sued the man who had misled him about the shipment, and after a long and
costly court case, the California Supreme Court ruled against him.
The bank foreclosed on his real estate, and, having lost everything, Norton declared bankruptcy.
At this point in our story, Joshua Abraham Norton fades from the pages of history, vanishing
from public life.
It is commonly believed that, at the loss of his fortune, Norton disappeared after experiencing
a complete mental breakdown.
He would not be heard from again until September 17, 1859 when he walked into the offices of
the San Francisco Bulletin, and demanded the editor publish the following proclamation:
"At the peremptory request of a large majority of the citizens of these United States, I,
Joshua Norton, formerly of Algoa Bay, Cape of Good Hope, and now for the past nine years
and ten months of San Francisco, California, declare and proclaim myself Emperor of these
United States..."
The paper, for whatever reason, decided to humor Norton - and they published the statement
in its entirety.
What may have seemed like a one-off moment of madness took a heightened turn as Norton
soon began making public appearances, dressed in a mixture of Union and Confederate military
regalia, a signature feathered-beaver hat, and a ceremonial saber strapped to his side.
The self-declared Emperor began strolling through the streets of San Francisco, inspecting
the conditions of the sidewalks and cable cars, public buildings, and even ensuring
that police officers made regular patrols to keep the city safe.
He often gathered large crowds together on various corners and launched into lengthy
philosophical expositions on a variety of topics including the state of American politics,
and his plans for the future of his empire.
The public, for what it was worth, ate this persona up.
Within a few months, Emperor Norton had become a local celebrity, and he continued to have
his proclamations and Imperial Decrees published by The Bulletin and other local papers to
the delight of the general public.
On October 12, 1859, he made a decree to formally abolish the United States Congress.
In March of 1860, he issued an imperial decree in which he summoned the Army to depose all
newly-elected officials of the congress.
The Army refused the order.
Hoping to resolve the many disputes that had resulted in the Civil War, Norton issued a
mandate in 1862 that ordered the Roman Catholic Church and all Protestant churches to publicly
ordain him as "Emperor".
On August 12, 1869, fed up with political strife, he declared the complete abolition
of the Democratic and Republican parties.
(Sadly, this order, too, was ignored.)
In 1872, he issued an edict that made it a misdemeanor for anyone to refer to the city
of San Francisco as “Frisco” - and violators would be subject to a fine of $25.
While many of these decrees seem bizarre, Norton occasionally gave orders that would
prove quite prophetic.
He issued instructions for the United States to form a League of Nations, which, a few
decades later, actually happened.
He issued a decree that a suspension bridge be built that would connect San Francisco
to Oakland - an idea that actually became reality on November 12, 1936.
But Norton took his emperorship even further than the occasional newspaper clipping and
public appearance: he would actually write letters to world leaders - and some would
even write back.
In time, Emperor Norton had established real, international relationships.
He even met with Emperor Pedro II of Brazil.
King Kamehameha of Hawaii, toward the end of his life, refused to recognize the U.S.
State Department, saying instead that he would deal only with Emperor Norton.
Locally, Norton excelled at public relations.
He was a beloved public figure, and a constant attendant of the city's churches, theatres,
civic gatherings, and commencements.
Shops soon began selling Emperor Norton merchandise (including dolls, cartoons, postcards, and
cigars) which only caused his popularity to increase.
Soon, he was a living tourist attraction.
Though a vagrant, Norton’s celebrity allowed him to enjoy several comforts.
He rented a room in a cheap boarding house for half a dollar a night, he had his own
reserved box seats at several theatres, and restaurants would let him eat for free, knowing
it would bring in customers.
The city gave him a free rail pass and allowed him to use public transportation at no cost
- retail stores would give him free clothing, so they could advertise that *they* outfitted
the Emperor, and most upscale establishments let him in at no charge.
He EVEN printed his own currency - which several business in San Francisco honored.
The outside observer might come to the conclusion that Norton had completely lost his mind - but
through it all, he remained quite the businessman.
He would speak with anyone who wished to meet him - and he made a nice collection of royalties
for every piece of Emperor Norton merchandise that local stores sold.
Despite his reputation as a rogue, unelected and unrecognized world leader, Emperor Norton
only had a single run-in with United States Law Enforcement: In 1867, a policeman named
Armand Barbier arrested him for vagrancy, and then, after a few conversations, further
charged him with lunacy.
Local newspapers immediately wrote scathing editorials informing the public of his imprisonment,
and, during his hearing, outraged citizens poured into the courtroom to protest.
Seeing the massive public backlash led the local police chief Patrick Crowley to release
the Emperor and issue a formal apology on behalf of the entire police force - in fact,
he issued an order for all San Francisco officers from that point forward to salute Emperor
Norton if they passed him in the street.
For his part, Norton granted an "Imperial Pardon" to the man who arrested him.
Whether this was the general public enabling a man suffering from insanity, or simply all
an act by a businessman who knew how to turn a profit, is still hotly debated to this day
- but in the two decades Norton reigned, the truth didn’t matter.
Even a man with self-appointed power can have that power if all others are willing to give
it to him.
Which leads us back to the streets of San Francisco sometime in the mid 1870s…
Where Joshua Abraham Norton - The Emperor of the United States, stands between an angry
mob and a group of Chinese immigrants.
The out-of-work men of San Francisco pause their attack at the sight of the emperor.
The men fall silent, and, with their full attention, Joshua Abraham Norton bows his
head and begins to recite the Lord’s Prayer.
"Our father which art in heaven hallowed be thy name.
Thy kingdom come.
Thy will be done in earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our debts
as we forgive our debtors.
And lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil.
For thine is the kingdom And the power
And the glory, forever.
Amen."
The Emperor continues to quote scripture over, and over, and over... and after a few minutes,
the mob disperses - the incident ends without injury.
Years later, on the rainy evening of January 8, 1880, Emperor Norton collapsed on the corner
of California Street and Dupont Street (now Grant Avenue) in front of Old St. Mary's Church
while on his way to a lecture at the California Academy of Sciences.
A nearby police officer (who just happened to be on patrol) immediately came to his aid
and requested a carriage to take him to the hospital.
Norton died before the carriage could arrive.
It was soon discovered that Norton, in his final years, lived and died in poverty.
He had five dollars in change in his pocket, and in his room at the boarding house was
a single gold coin worth $2.50, a collection of walking sticks, his saber, a few tattered
hats, a single franc, a collection of Emperor Norton imperial bonds, some telegrams, a few
letters, and 98 shares in a defunct gold mine.
Though he had scarcely enough money to his name for a coffin, several area clubs and
businessmen donated money to give him a proper burial.
The Emperor was laid to rest on a Sunday, two days after his death.
30,000 people lined the streets for his funeral.
A day later, a total eclipse occurred over the city.
And just like that, the light went out in San Francisco.
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