1845 Battle Was Draw, but Helped Free California

The Battle of Cahuenga in Los Angeles in 1845 doesn’t rank among such battles as Waterloo, Gettysburg and Midway. But it was a real battle, presaging a war that ultimately brought California into the United States.

The episode of the premature flag-raising that preceded it was a tragicomedy that marked and nearly marred the rule of the last Mexican-born governor of Mexican California, a man whose name still appears on a street sign and a school in Los Angeles: Manuel Micheltorena.

In the early 1840s, when Californios were agitating to break free from Mexican rule, the capital of California bounced back and forth between Los Angeles and Monterey like a tennis ball at Wimbledon.

Mexico had borrowed heavily from Britain on its golden territory, and British ships waited off the coast, eager to foreclose. The French also showed up to claim a piece of the prosperous and promising territory, and in Washington, D.C., President John Tyler was trying to buy it from Mexico.

In 1842, to keep order and keep out the hungry foreigners, Mexico City dispatched the handsome, chestnut-haired Micheltorena to serve as governor and keep tabs on the Californio opposition.

Micheltorena’s army, which marched up from Mexico, wasn’t the most loyal or motivated fighting force ever assembled. It was composed of 300 unpaid, partially naked thugs and ex-convicts clad in dirty blankets.

Desperate, the soldiers stole things from Angelenos’ clotheslines; one even yanked a serape from the shoulders of a local land baron, Antonio Maria Lugo, as he walked down Main Street. Another invaded a kitchen and carried off pots of food cooking on the stove. Other malcontents grabbed chickens from farms, looted vineyards and orchards, assaulted young senoritas and stabbed and robbed a French sailor.

Although Micheltorena failed to control his soldiers, the smooth-mannered governor nonetheless won favor with most Angelenos. To soothe their ruffled feelings at being occupied and robbed, Micheltorena made payments out of his own pocket for stolen goods and established the third school in Los Angeles, endowing it with $500 in government funds.

Taking his ragtag battalion away before they destroyed the City of Angels, the governor trekked north. But as they reached the San Fernando Mission, word arrived that Commodore Thomas Catesby Jones, head of the United States’ Pacific squadron, had seized Monterey and hoisted the American flag. Micheltorena turned his troops around and headed back to Los Angeles.

Weeks earlier, Jones had been in Peru and had watched the British fleet there head north under sealed orders. When Jones heard--erroneously, it turned out--that his country was at war with Mexico, he put two and two together--and came up with five.

Assuming that Mexico had arranged to wipe out its debt by handing California over to England rather than see it purchased by the United States, Jones weighed anchor and raced for Monterey, prepared to do battle with British or Mexicans.

He arrived on Oct. 19, 1842, congratulating himself on beating the British, and demanded that the town surrender. It did, and at the water’s edge Jones raised the first Stars and Stripes flag in California.

The next day, a chagrined Jones realized his mistake. He extended his apologies and ordered the American flag lowered. The Californios, more entertained than outraged by Jones’ little faux pas, organized a dance in his honor.

But in Los Angeles, Micheltorena’s men retaliated by seizing the U.S. ship Tasso, docked at San Pedro, and imprisoning its captain. Micheltorena soon freed the captain, dressed down his own men for interfering in international affairs and requested a conference with Jones in Los Angeles.

Three months later--Jones was in no hurry--the U.S. sloop-of-war Cyane dropped anchor at San Pedro. Escorted by 25 mounted and now fully clothed Mexican soldiers, and serenaded by a band playing in the rain, Jones and his men were brought downtown to meet Micheltorena at El Palacio, the home of prosperous ranchero Abel Stearns.

After many toasts, Micheltorena presented Jones with a list of demands that included 1,500 new Mexican uniforms, $15,000 for Mexico’s coffers, and a new set of musical instruments to replace those ruined by the rain that fell as Jones arrived.

The next morning, Jones returned the demands unsigned. Steaming, yet appearing polite, he attached a note that said only the president of the United States could sign such a document.

Jones left Los Angeles with as much fanfare as when he arrived. Drums beat, a cannon fired and bells rang as he saluted Micheltorena, who himself soon took his army to Monterey, to the delight of Angelenos.

The good feeling vanished when Jones was ordered back to Washington, relieved of his command--mainly to appease Mexican authorities--and reprimanded for losing whatever slim chance the U.S. had to purchase California. In 1845, he was quietly exonerated and placed back in command of the Pacific squadron. The U.S. denied responsibility for Jones’ jumping the gun, and no new uniforms or musical instruments changed hands.

(Another wild flag-raising would take place June 14, 1846, when freebooting free spirit John C. Fremont raised a flag, made from a petticoat and painted with pokeberry juice, and declared California to be independent. The Bear Flag Revolt marked the beginning of California’s few weeks as an independent country before war between the U.S. and Mexico erupted.)

Micheltorena’s ragtag, thieving army and his failure to bring the capital back to Los Angeles finally taxed the Californios’ patience. Californios Jose Castro and Juan Bautista Alvarado organized a revolt, which was joined by Pio Pico and his brother Andres and the “Yankee Dons” of Los Angeles: Stearns, Benito Wilson, William Workman and others.

On Feb. 20, 1845, along the Camino Real, near what is now Ventura Boulevard and Coldwater Canyon, two armies gathered, Californio and Mexican. Micheltorena had three cannons to the Californios’ two, facing across a mile-wide field.

The two-day, long-range artillery duel was attended by wives, mothers, children and sweethearts who watched from the hillsides. Below, soldiers hunkered down in the gulches and many fled into the hills. Everyone loved the boom of the cannons and the smell of gunpowder, but not the sight of blood. When this near-bloodless, half-hearted skirmish ended in a draw, the casualties amounted to one dead horse.

Nevertheless, it won Californios their autonomy and Micheltorena returned to Mexico, where he died seven years later. Pio Pico was made governor and moved the capital to Los Angeles, but his influence ran only as far north as Santa Barbara. Jose Castro became the real ruler, controlling the economy by controlling the customs house at Monterey.

The Battle of Cahuenga may not be memorialized on a stamp or on the History Channel, but all of its generals did receive one enduring honor: Streets and schools in Los Angeles still bear their names.