Open Letter to the Los Angeles Times

Dear Editors:

I am posting this publicly because whenever I contact publications privately regarding factual inaccuracies, they ignore me and never correct anything.* 

I’m honestly not trying to put LA’s paper of record on blast (for the record, I am a subscriber myself and read the Times every single day). I just want greater awareness of the facts.

I am writing to ask that the Times please issue two corrections to an article published on May 3rd, regarding the origin of some local place names.**

I am not in any way faulting the writer of the piece; her work is excellent and I enjoy reading it each week. However, two errors still somehow made it to print. 

Mary Agnes Christina Mesmer Griffith was not, and could not have been, a Verdugo descendant. Her parents Louis Mesmer Sr. and Katherine Forst Mesmer were both immigrants from Alsace, France.

There is no record of the Mesmer family having any ties to Jose Maria Verdugo’s native Mexico. There is no record of the Verdugo family having any ties to eastern France or western Germany (Alsace changed hands while the Mesmers were alive). I have spent considerable time exploring Ancestry.com and there is no real indication that the Mesmers could possibly be related to the Verdugos.

Additionally, while Louis and Katherine Mesmer were indeed land barons, they did not inherit their properties from ANYONE, let alone the Verdugos. The Mesmers were very successful entrepreneurs who invested their earnings in land. 

Mrs. Griffith did inherit a significant amount of real estate, but it had belonged to Andre Briswalter, a friend of her father’s. Briswalter was also from Alsace.

As to the second correction, Mrs. Griffith was not blinded in one eye. The bullet destroyed her eye and what was left of it had to be removed. The veil she wore for the rest of her life also hid scarring from gunpowder burns (Griffith shot her from approximately two feet away).

Again, I am not faulting the writer of the piece. I happen to know that someone else is entirely to blame for spreading the myth of the Alsatian-born Mesmers somehow being descendants of an early Californio family.

Mary Agnes Christina Mesmer Griffith went through quite enough when she was alive and has mostly been forgotten. I believe we owe it to her to be as accurate as possible when mentioning her life.

Merci,

C.C.

*Sole exception thus far: the good people at Mental Floss, who promptly corrected an inaccuracy regarding the number of generations between Louis XIV and Louis XVI.

** May 10, 2022 - one week since the errors ran and no correction has been made. This is why I post the facts!

Little Houses on Bernard Street

Bernard Street is in Chinatown. That is, the short block of Bernard Street that concerns today's entry is in Chinatown. 

Bisected by the 110, Bernard has another short block in Elysian Park, and lends its name to an angled extension of Yale Street (shades of Bauchet Street). Many years ago, this was Jean Bernard's brickyard, which he subdivided into the Bernard Tract.

It's quiet in this upper corner of Chinatown. Despite its proximity to both Chinatown Central Plaza and Cathedral High School, the only sound is the soft whooshing of cars - on one end, getting on or off the 110; on the other, driving up or down Broadway. On the south side of Bernard Street, the neon-trimmed Royal Pagoda Motel (reportedly closed at the time of writing) reassures you that yes, you're still in Chinatown and didn't wander into a time warp. This is the side of Bernard that made a cameo appearance in "La La Land" - probably the only time most Angelenos have ever seen Bernard Street.

Sitting in the dark watching the film for the first time, I crossed my fingers, silently begging for the camera to pan to the north side of the street to show the little houses. It didn't.

"La La Land", which shows an incredible (if geographically improbable) checklist of locations in Los Angeles County, didn't show viewers the little houses on Bernard Street. But I will.

Fritz Houses on Bernard Street

Philip Fritz, born in France* in 1844, built three of these little houses between 1886 and 1892 to house his family - himself, his mother, his wife Louise, and their three teenage sons Philip Jr., George, and Fred. Two of the houses remain. The missing house, number 417, was moved to Wilshire and Normandie long ago, and the last time I checked, there were no Queen Anne cottages in Koreatown.

The Fritzes were from Alsace, which ceded to Germany in 1871. Tired of political upheaval and not interested in answering to the German government, hundreds of thousands of French speakers left the Alsace-Lorraine. Philip went ahead in 1873, secured work as a carpenter, and was able to send for his family ten years later.

411, 415, and 417 Bernard Street. Detail from 1894 Sanborn Map.

Philip became a railroad carpenter, working for Southern Pacific's Buildings and Bridges department, and eventually rising to the rank of Superintendent . Where Bernard dead-ends at Broadway (then called Buena Vista Street), a parking facility separates the street from Los Angeles State Historic Park, formerly "The Cornfield" (so named for volunteer stalks of corn that sprouted from loose corn kernels that fell out of freight cars). This was the home of the first Southern Pacific Railroad depot, and explains the Fritzes living a mile away from Frenchtown proper. In the 1880s, Chinatown was still Sonoratown.

When Philip and Louise became US citizens in 1888, land baron Louis Mesmer, who was also from Alsace-Lorraine, swore to their residency, moral character, and principles.

Philip Jr., also a railroad carpenter, was arrested in 1887 for resisting arrest in a riot (several unruly drunks had been throwing explosives to frighten horses), and suffered a seizure near Spring and Temple while being escorted to the police station. Instead of calling for a doctor, the police carried him the rest of the way. Per the Herald, "This started the cry that he had been killed, and cries of 'he's killed, shoot the officers,' arose and for a time it appeared as if there was danger of a serious riot." A few days later he was arraigned, but released, with the Herald noting that he was "considered a good boy" and chalking his arrest up to being in the wrong company. Another account indicated that he had in fact been pushed against the officer and did not deliberately assault him. Two months later, Philip Jr. suffered another seizure on Spring Street and was taken to the city jail for treatment.

Was Philip Jr. "a good boy"? Well...

In 1891, Philip Jr. was arrested for fighting with coworker Pat Murray (the newspaper indicated that one of them broke a cane over the other's head). In 1892, he faced battery charges twice. He was fined $10 after kicking a newsboy into the middle of the street for pestering him to buy a newspaper. His excuse was that he wasn't feeling well that day. The other battery charge was brought by a girl named May Clausen and bail was set for $100 (about $3000 today).

Philip was arrested for insanity in Goshen (Tulare County) in 1894. When it was discovered that he had been drugged and robbed, he was sent to the county hospital to recover, but remained afflicted for some time.

Philip Jr. had married Delphine Belaude, the English-born daughter of Alsatian immigrants, in 1890. Their daughter Louise, born in 1891, was raised by her grandparents at 411 Bernard Street. As for Philip Jr., he was only 27 or 28 when he passed away in 1896.

Middle brother George Fritz, who lived in the lost house at 417 Bernard Street, became a railroad engineer and was considered one of Southern Pacific's most trusted employees. One day in 1904, he was working in the roundhouse and was crushed between two locomotives. George was rushed to Sisters' Hospital, but died from his injuries hours later. He was just 32 years old. 

Fred, the youngest Fritz brother, was also a railroad carpenter. He married for the first time at age 45 - to a 21-year-old bride named Pansy. They had a son, Walter, and the 1920 census shows them living at number 417. By 1930, Fred was divorced and living in the house alone.

411 and 415 Bernard Street, with 417 long gone.
Detail from 1950 Sanborn Map.

Louise Fritz - Philip Jr.'s daughter - lived in number 411 until she married her first husband, Clyde Henry Stone, in 1917 and moved to number 415 next door. Their son Philip Stone died mere days after his birth, and when Louise sued for divorce in 1924, it was on the grounds of adultery and extreme cruelty. 

Louise then married firefighter Louis Vernon Parker, continuing to live at 415 Bernard Street. Unfortunately, Louis was a habitual - and violent - drunk. Their divorce was finalized in 1935. 

In the 1930s, when the Arroyo Seco Parkway onramp was built, the street had to be widened. 411 and 415 were moved 15 feet. The lost house, 417, was moved to Wilshire and Normandie, where it was used  to model housing modernization in a program co-sponsored by the Federal Housing Administration and the LA Times.

By this time, Old Chinatown and portions of the Plaza area had been demolished, displacing Chinese Angelenos, who began to move into Sonoratown. At a time when many Angelenos still didn't care to have Chinese residents living nearby, Louise got along well with her Chinese neighbors and often patronized Chinese restaurants. One story claims that when two Chinese children were not permitted to keep two cats in their boarding house, they asked Louise to take care of the cats (she reportedly did). 

Angels Walk stanchion with photo of Louise Fritz Whiting

Angels Walk stanchion with picture of 411 Bernard Street

Louise married for the third and final time in 1937, to letter carrier Otta Ira Whiting. He passed away from natural causes in 1950. 

Philip and Louise Sr. had both passed away by this time (Philip in 1932 and Louise in 1941), and Louise moved back into number 411. She lived in the house until her death at age 100 in 1992.

The Chinese Historical Society bought the property from surviving relatives of the Fritz family in 1994, turning the little houses on Bernard Street into the Chinatown Heritage Center. As with the French Hospital several blocks away, an Angels Walk stanchion outside references the property's history. In total, the Fritz family owned the houses for 108 years.

Time marches on. Cars whoosh by. Chinatown continues to gentrify. The Cathedral High School Phantoms play on athletic fields built over Old Calvary Cemetery. Shutterbugs take pictures of downtown from Los Angeles State Historic Park, posting them to Instagram and Reddit. Somehow, the little houses are still quietly standing on Bernard Street.

Chinese Historical Society at 411 Bernard Street

*Some sources, including Philip's passport application, list his birthplace as Germany. Preuschdorf, the commune (township) where Philip was born, was part of France until the Franco-Prussian War and is well within its current borders. Despite the German-sounding surname, the Fritzes were native French speakers. It's not a coincidence that some DNA tests don't distinguish between French and German ancestry.

A Very Brief History of French Bakeries in Old Los Angeles

Once upon a time, a long long time ago by Los Angeles standards, the city was just a tiny pueblo that lacked a proper bakery.

You might assume that the first bakeries in Los Angeles specialized in Mexican baked goods. You would, however, be mistaken. For LA's first 72 years of existence, the ONLY bread baked in the city was French bread.

In those very early days, Andre Mano and Pierre Domegue set up shop in the Plaza area, baking French sourdough around the corner from the Plaza Church. 

Andre Mano was born in France around 1809, is listed in the 1850 Federal census as a baker, and shared a house with 28-year-old Pedro Dornes (or Domec), a cooper who was also from France. Ten years later, the 1860 census still listed Andre as a baker, with another French housemate, laborer Martin Echepare.

Little seems to be known about Pierre Domegue, except that he was married to, and also baked bread with, a Native American woman whose name and nation aren't mentioned in the few sources I've found. 

Joseph Lelong, who set up shop in 1851, inexplicably named his French bakery after Swedish opera superstar Jenny Lind. There was a Lelong Block on Spring, south of Fifth, at least as late as 1890. If Lelong did indeed own property on that block (tax assessments suggest he had assets), he would have counted two other French bakers (Augustus Ulyard and Louis Mesmer) and a French grocer (Auguste Chauvin) as his neighbors. 

Lelong was the busiest baker in town...for a couple of years, anyway. He faced strong competition when Augustus Ulyard arrived in 1853. Ulyard, born in Philadelphia to French parents, started out with French bread, but soon added German and American breads and pastries, appealing to the growing Yankee and German communities. Ulyard added fresh crackers in 1860, filling another market gap (crackers shipped from San Bernardino or San Francisco tended to arrive stale). The former site of his bakery is now home to the Alexandria Hotel.

Ulyard eventually retired from baking, selling his bakery to Louis Mesmer. 

As Louis Mesmer merits his own entry, I'll restrict this to his activities as a baker. 

Besides the former Ulyard bakery, Louis Mesmer owned the New York Bakery at Sixth and Spring (the very first Ralphs Bros. Grocery stood next door). Mesmer, a devout Catholic, was the first baker in Los Angeles to bake matzo for the local Jewish community.

Los Angeles gained an army camp in 1861 in case local Confederate sympathizers revolted (Southern California had a lot of ex-Southern residents, and Los Angeles in particular leaned Confederate during the Civil War). An army marches on its stomach, and Camp Latham needed baked goods. Louis Mesmer got the contract, and erected a bakery at the camp along Ballona Creek (he also sold baked goods to neighboring rancheros). He was still operating the New York Bakery downtown. When Camp Latham moved to Highland Park, he supplied baked goods from the New York Bakery instead of building another bakery location.

Sometime around 1870, the Taix family arrived in Los Angeles. The Taix French Bread Bakery opened its doors in 1882 at 321 Commercial Street. Later, Adrian and Joaquin Taix owned The French Bakery at 1550 West Pico Boulevard. When the family tore down their bakery in 1912 to build the Champ d'Or Hotel (which would house the original Taix restaurant beginning in 1927), the Taix bakery moved, ending up in Northeast Los Angeles.

Dominique Foix, born in Haut-Garonne, arrived in 1882. He established a tannery and saddlery in his Macy Street home, later founding Foix French Baking Company downtown in 1886 and delivering bread door to door with a horse-drawn wagon. Foix often traded goods with customers who were short on cash, and received so many live frogs as payments that he was able to start a frog farm and sell frogs' legs to the many French restaurants in town. This led to Foix supplying bread to restaurants, which necessitated moving the bakery into a bigger facility in Highland Park. The bakery's flour came from Capitol Mills, housed in the oldest industrial building in the city - a three-story brick flour mill erected by Abel Stearns in 1831.

Foix turned over the bakery to his son in his later years, and Foix's grandsons were running the bakery at least as late as 1941. That same year, a broken water main below Elysian Park's reservoir flooded the bakery. Louis Foix evacuated all 15 employees, but the water and mud ruined 6000 pounds of flour. The bakery unfortunately seems to have closed down in the 1990s.

French Basque immigrant Jean-Baptiste Garacochea founded the National French Bakery in 1908, later changing the name to Pioneer French Baking Company. Pioneer operated in Venice from 1920 to 2006, operated by several generations of the Garacochea family. Great-grandsons John Baptiste and Charlie Garacochea co-own the Etxea Basque Bakery, which supplies bread to restaurants.

To hell with counting carbs - good French bread is an LA tradition! Pass the sourdough.

The Lost Legacy of André Briswalter

There was a time when fresh food was rather costly in Los Angeles. The pueblo was hot and dusty, the river periodically burst its banks and flooded, and your neighbor just might illegally divert water from a zanja for their own use. Los Angeles traded with San Bernardino for eggs, crackers, and other foods, but the long and hot wagon trip often meant food was well on its way to spoiling by the time it arrived.

If you had a talent for growing fresh fruit and vegetables, you could make a good living.

André Briswalter arrived in the Pueblo from Alsace in the early 1850s. He rented a plot of land on San Pedro Street, planted vegetables, and sold them door-to-door in a wheelbarrow. With high demand for fresh food and limited competition, he could charge whatever the market would bear.

Briswalter made so much money that he was soon able to buy his own plot of land, followed by a horse and wagon.

André Briswalter planted an orchard in a plot bordered by present-day Main Street, Ninth Street, Los Angeles Street, and Olympic. When I mapped the site I was shocked to realize I knew the area quite well. The California Market Center (my professors informally called it "the Mart") now stands on the site. I couldn't even begin to list how many times I went there as a young design student. Briswalter's fruit trees are long gone, of course, as is the house on the land (where he spent his last years).

Briswalter had another orchard, south of what is now the Wholesale Produce Market. He also began to grow nuts. City directories list Briswalter's longtime home at Washington and Main.

André Briswalter eventually owned a great deal of City and County property, notably much of present-day Playa del Rey.

Briswalter was active socially, belonging to Knights of Pythias Lodge 79, better known as "La Fraternité" due to the lodge being composed of French speakers and conducting everything in French.

André Briswalter died of blood poisoning in 1885. A large cemetery chapel was built at Old Calvary Cemetery in his honor and served as his burial site.

Briswalter left behind an estate valued at $375.407.76 - nearly $11 million in 2020 dollars. (His land holdings, of course, would be much more valuable today due to the higher demand for land in Los Angeles.) That estate was willed to a veritable 'who's who' of 1880s Los Angeles - Isaias Hellman, Henry Hammel, W.H. Denker, Rev. Peter Verdagner, Mary Agnes Christina Mesmer, Louis Mesmer, Mary Collins, and Alice Briswalter Meit.

The will was contested by Caledonia Guirado, who claimed that she had been married to the elder André Briswalter and that he was the father of her son Andre. Investigation showed that ten years before Briswalter died, she had married someone else and had five children with him. She had several other children by what one newspaper politely called "three other irregular connections". The matter took nearly two years to sort out in court, with a jury ruling that Ms. Guirado was not André Briswalter's wife and the boy was not his son. (Sound familiar?)

Regular readers may recall that Tina Mesmer inherited money and land from Briswalter, who was a friend of her father's (curiously, she was the only Mesmer child included in the will). This became a problem after she married Griffith J. Griffith, who would eventually falsely accuse her of poisoning Briswalter and attempting to poison him.

In 1915, St. Peter's Italian Church moved into Briswalter's old chapel, having outgrown a smaller church on North Spring Street (much of modern-day Chinatown was Little Italy then). By 1943, the parish had outgrown Briswalter's chapel and was raising money for a new church.

Ironically, St. Peter's didn't tear down André Briswalter's chapel. They didn't have to - a terrible fire destroyed the building. The current St. Peter's opened its doors in 1947.

It isn't clear if André Briswalter's remains were destroyed in the fire, reinterred at New Calvary, or if they remain onsite at St. Peter's.

An immigrant prospers...his considerable estate is contested...a phony heir pops up...everything he owned or built is long gone...and for extra fun, it's unclear where he's buried. Yep...it's another day in Frenchtown.

Money, Madness, and Attempted Murder

One hundred years ago today, Griffith Jenkins Griffith died.

Every Angeleno knows Griffith J. Griffith donated Griffith Park to the city of Los Angeles. In that story, Griffith gets to be the hero.

In the story of one of the most prominent French families in Los Angeles, however, Griffith will never be anything but a villain who got a slap on the wrist.

Born February 29, 1864 to industrious French immigrants who had become land barons*, Mary Agnes Christina "Tina" Mesmer spoke four languages, was a talented musician...and owned more than one million dollars' worth of Los Angeles real estate in her own name by the time she was 22.

Mary Agnes Christina Mesmer

In 2019 dollars, that's $25 million, but without an exhaustive inventory of the properties she owned, I can't say its true value in 2019 terms. Given the high demand for Los Angeles real estate, it would probably be worth much more than $25 million today. In any case, Tina was an extremely wealthy young woman.

And she caught the eye of Griffith J. Griffith.

Born penniless in Wales, Griffith was nouveau riche to the hilt. He wore a frock coat and carried a cane - in still-the-Wild-West Los Angeles. He affected the title of "Colonel", despite not having served in the military at all. His idea of doing someone a favor was allowing them to be seen in public with him. One acquaintance dubbed him a "midget egomaniac"; another called him "a roly-poly pompous little fellow" and compared his walk to that of a strutting turkey.

God only knows how this obnoxious character managed to win the hand of pretty, well-bred Tina Mesmer.

In a letter to Tina dated January 8, 1887 - less than three weeks before their wedding - Griffith sought to break their engagement. He accused her of having misrepresented her wealth (...so a 22-year-old with a million dollars wasn't rich enough?) and of being a pawn in her father's hands.

Despite this giant red flag, the wedding did take place January 27, 1887.

At the time, it was a common practice for brides of means to deed their property and fortunes to their husbands when they got married. It was a dowry in all but name. And Tina Mesmer, not realizing what would happen to her, deeded her vast fortune to her new husband.

Big mistake.

Griffith was a devout Protestant. Tina was just as devoutly Catholic as the rest of the Mesmer clan (her father and brother were instrumental in finishing construction on St. Vibiana Cathedral). Instead of a church wedding, they had a small ceremony at the Mesmer family home. Griffith would later start religious arguments with Tina. But wait - it gets worse.

So. Much. Worse.

Just four months after marrying Tina, Griffith filed for partial distribution of André Briswalter's estate. Briswalter, a wealthy landowner himself, had been a friend of Tina's father Louis Mesmer and had left her some property on San Pedro Street. Griffith claimed that Tina had assigned her claim on the property to her father, and that Griffith had then bought the claim from Mesmer. Briswalter's large estate was in dispute due to an alleged illegitimate son, and the parties involved (including the Mesmers) had agreed to probate.

Probate was time-consuming, even in the 1880s. But Griffith didn't want to wait. Hmmm.

In December of 1896, Griffith J. Griffith announced he was donating 3,015 acres of Rancho Los Feliz for use as a public park. He stated "I consider it my obligation to make Los Angeles a happier, cleaner, and finer city. I wish to pay my debt of duty in this way to the community in which I have prospered." 

Here's what most people don't realize about the parcel of land he chose to donate at the time: it was too hilly and woody for farming, livestock grazing, or developing into housing tracts. That made the acreage in question a potential property-tax loss for Griffith...who owed an outstanding tax debt to the city at the time. Was the land truly a gift? Could it have been a tax write-off? Or was Griffith trying to bribe the city into forgiving his existing tax debt?

The city of Los Angeles hesitated to acknowledge, let alone use, the "gift" at first. Gee, I wonder why.

Fifteen months later, Griffith formally deeded the land to the city. A special, jam-packed City Council session was held for the occasion. The Los Angeles Herald noted that "...Mr. Griffith stepped jauntily in, carrying a huge roll, tied with an immense bow of blue satin ribbon - the deed to Griffith Park." The midget egomaniac had gotten his way, and in a ludicrously theatrical manner at that.

Within a few years of "gifting" Griffith Park to the city, things took a much darker turn.

Griffith, who claimed to be a teetotaler, began to drink. Heavily. He reportedly drank up to two quarts of whiskey per day. (Which seems slightly implausible, since two quarts means 42.66 standard shots in one day, but in any case, those close to him knew he drank way, way too much.)

The religious arguments began. Somehow, Griffith became convinced that his Catholic wife was plotting with Pope Leo XIII to poison him and steal his fortune.

At one point, Griffith told Tina "Come in here, I want to speak to you" in such a frightening way that she fled the family home and spent the night at her sister Lucy's house.

When Louis Mesmer died in 1900, Tina inherited only $500 from her father's estate. The will explained that the amount was so small because Louis had arranged Tina's inheritance from André Briswalter.

Griffith's drinking and bizarre behavior continued to worsen.

On August 4, 1903, a new Pope was elected - Pius X. Around the same time, the Griffith family took a vacation in the Presidential suite of Santa Monica's posh Arcadia Hotel.

For weeks, Griffith's paranoid delusions about being poisoned by his wife - or even by the new Pope - led him to constantly switch cups and plates with Tina, or with their 15-year-old son Vandell. Tina finally had to have the hotel's kitchen send their meals up family-style, since Griffith would switch out plated portions.

Thursday, September 4 was the last day of the Griffiths' vacation. Tina was packing her trunk when Griffith ordered her to get onto her knees. She could see he was holding his revolver. He demanded she close her eyes, but she was too frightened to completely close them.

Griffith peppered poor Tina with questions, seemingly trying to implicate her in poisoning André Briswalter (who had died of blood poisoning), poisoning him, and even being unfaithful to him.

On this last question, Griffith fired the gun. Tina jerked away, with the bullet entering her left eye. She ran for the window, pried it open, and jumped out to escape. Tina landed on a piazza roof one floor down, breaking her shoulder.

Luckily for Tina, the hotel's owner was in an adjacent room and heard the commotion. He pulled her to safety, sent for a doctor, and called the sheriff.

Tina's siblings asked her doctor not to discuss her condition or the circumstances of the shooting. Griffith would immediately exploit this.

Griffith told newspapers that Tina had shot herself in a suicide attempt. He then told Vandell that his mother was shot when the pistol was dropped.

The Mesmers subsequently allowed Dr. Moore to make a statement - and rallied around their sister, bracing for a very ugly legal battle.

Dr. Moore notified the newspapers that Mrs. Griffith had been shot through the eye and needed surgery to remove the bullet, pieces of splintered orbital bone, and what remained of her destroyed eye. Tina was also badly concussed and in such poor overall condition that Dr. Moore postponed setting her broken shoulder for two more days. 

Dr. Moore added that if the bullet had entered Tina’s eye just one-sixteenth of an inch lower, it would have entered her brain. 

Another physician, Dr. Rogers, stated that gunpowder burns on Tina’s face indicated she had been shot from approximately two feet away.

The day after shooting Tina, Griffith spent a long afternoon and evening bar-hopping. Law enforcement was tailing him on foot, and he was arrested that night. He was quickly released on bail. Vandell, unable to visit his mother in the hospital, accompanied Griffith back to Los Angeles, where they checked into the Fremont Hotel.

Six days after the shooting, Griffith was served with divorce papers. Tina demanded her freedom, sole custody of Vandell, and her share of their enormous combined estate. A temporary injunction was issued to prevent Griffith from disposing of any property in the interim (gee, I wonder why the court had to do that...), and Tina was granted custody of Vandell for the duration of the proceedings. Since Tina couldn't leave the hospital yet, Vandell was placed in the temporary care of Tina’s stepmother, Jennie Mesmer.

Tina's legal team knew she would have difficulty winning back her property. Joseph Scott, Esq. told the Los Angeles Herald “Unfortunately for Mrs. Griffith, she so neglected her own rights at the time of her marriage as to deed all of her property to Griffith before their union. It was an act of renunciation based on the old idea of dower, and it will be exceedingly difficult to attack the property now. Mrs. Griffith’s ‘dower’ included a large part of what is now known as the Briswalter tract, and was estimated to be worth $500,000 at the time of her marriage. It would be hard to estimate its present value. While we anticipate no difficulty in obtaining a decree of divorce or in obtaining ample support for our client, it seems questionable whether she can obtain any approximation of what really should be hers.” 

Griffith’s trial began February 15, 1904. Within a few days, the prosecution’s line of questioning showed a possible motive for the murder attempt.

Tina, who concealed her scarred face behind a veil, was asked a series of questions about her inheritance. She revealed that Griffith had been managing her business for their entire marriage. She had repeatedly asked him to settle up with her, since she wanted to handle her own land holdings. It was further revealed that had the bullet killed her, she would have died without a will. 

Tina's share of the couple's estate would have automatically stayed with her homicidal husband instead of going to her only child or her siblings.

Griffith, using a defense of “alcoholic insanity” (which sounds an awful lot like the Twinkie Defense if you ask me), was found guilty of a lesser charge - assault with a deadly weapon. He was sentenced to two years at San Quentin.

Two years in prison, for almost killing his long-suffering wife. Does anyone else smell that? I believe it's the distinct smell of bullshit.

Griffith’s original legal team, Silent & Works, sued him for $20,000 in attorneys’ fees. 

Tina’s divorce case was heard on November 4, 1904. Judge Allen granted her a divorce on the grounds of cruelty after just four minutes of testimony. (Everyone thinks it's four and a half minutes. The earliest news article I can find covering the case says that it was four minutes, and poor Tina was too traumatized to say anything for much of that time. To my knowledge, it's the shortest divorce testimony on record.)

Griffith was not present at the divorce hearing. He was still in the County Jail, awaiting an appeal (an appeal - really?!). The financial end of the divorce was settled out of court. Griffith agreed to pay for Vandell's education, but demanded he not attend a Catholic-affiliated school (the Griffiths settled on Stanford, although Van ultimately did not go to college).

Griffith sobered up in prison, and tried to donate more land to the city, in addition to funds for an amphitheater and a science building. The Parks Commission didn't want it. Mount Griffith was renamed Mount Hollywood.

Griffith eventually donated all of the above and more to the city in his will, essentially buying himself respectability in death. His grave marker in Hollywood Forever Cemetery is so tall you can practically see it from space.

True to her family's strong Catholic faith, Tina was interred at Calvary Cemetery when she passed away in 1948. 

To this day, Griffith Park bears its founder’s name, in addition to his likeness in statue form (the terms of Griffith's "gift" required that the land be called Griffith Park in perpetuity). 

Mary Agnes Christina Mesmer Griffith, who spent the rest of her life in seclusion at her sister and brother-in-law’s home, hiding her scarred face and empty eye socket behind a veil, has been forgotten.

Griffith Jenkins Griffith died from (what else...) liver disease on this day, one hundred years ago. 

Good riddance.

P.S. I went to Griffith Park regularly as a child, and have returned plenty of times as an adult. I truly believe that it is one of the greatest urban parks in the world. But seeing Griffith lionized as a civic-minded Angeleno, knowing what he truly was, makes every last drop of my French blood boil.

*There is a persistent myth that the Alsatian-born Mesmers were somehow descendants of/heirs to the Verdugo family, who were Californios. It’s NOT TRUE. It’s not even possible; I’ve spent hours on Ancestry checking this. For the love of macarons, Please. Stop. Saying. Tina. Was. A. Verdugo. Heiress.