| Henry de Forrest was excited about his new life in California. The sixty-two-year-old carpenter had left his wife and young children in Maine while he looked for opportunities in the Golden State. He quickly found employment in his trade at the Powder Mill wharf operation in Santa Cruz, and he was excited about sending for his family.
On April 29, 1877 de Forrest was walking along River Street near the present Farmers Exchange when he was accosted by ex-cons Francisco Arias and Jose Chamales. Arias shot de Forrest in the chest with a large-caliber revolver, and the two men dragged him fifty feet off the street into the brush, where they went through his pockets for money. They then went to a saloon and spent the dead man’s money.
In the morning, a passerby discovered de Forrest’s lifeless body and ran for the police. The sheriff had barely started his investigation when a Californio came forward and told him about a frightening encounter that he had the night before. Before Arias and Chamales attacked de Forrest, the bandits stopped the Californio at the same spot where De Forrest was murdered and robbed. The man was from a Native American village located a mile north of Santa Cruz and the bandits recognized him and decided not to rob him.
Francisco Arias had murdered before. He had killed a sheepherder and was sent to San Quentin. Most sheepherders in the early history of California were either Mexican or Native American, which is probably why Arias didn’t get the death penalty. At twenty-one years of age, Jose Chamales was already a veteran of the San Quentin prison. Robbery was second nature to the Santa Cruz native.
Armed with the information provided by the Californio, the sheriff’s deputies tracked down Chamales in Watsonville and Arias camped out near San Juan Bautista. They were taken to the Santa Cruz jail.
The next night, May 3, 1877, somewhere between forty and three hundred masked men descended on the jail and easily convinced the two guards to release the bandits into their care. The frightened criminals were marched to the Water Street bridge over the San Lorenzo River and nooses were placed around their necks. They were given a shot of whiskey and were allowed to say a few last words. What they said was never written down, except it was noted that they spoke in Spanish. They were then hoisted up and left hanging until they were discovered the next morning. When they were cut down in mid-morning, the ropes were divided into foot-long sections and given away as souvenirs.
Culled from: California Justice: Shootouts, Lynchings and Assassinations in the Golden State by David Kulczyk
Somewhere between 40 and 300? That’s quite a range! I’m gonna guess it was more like 40 than 300 because how many people can be bothered to put on a mask and go out on a work night? |
