Booking Now: Lost French L.A. Walking Tour

Did you miss my LAVA Sunday Salon back in September 2017?

Did you attend the Salon, but want to know more?

Did you only just recently find this blog?

I am pleased to announce that I have partnered with Airbnb Experiences to offer a 2-hour walking tour of Lost French Los Angeles (special pricing for the first 10 guests who book the tour). You can even book through the widget in the upper right corner of this blog.

After seven years of researching and mapping the French in Old Los Angeles (500 places so far), I know where all the surviving sites are - and where the lost ones used to be. I'll also be relating some of the best stories that time forgot.

Early L.A. was extremely dangerous, so a couple of these stories do involve murder. For this reason, I've set the minimum age at 13. If any family groups would like an all-ages version, email me (through Airbnb, or losfrangeles at gmail dot com) and I'll set up a special tour.

Tours are scheduled for Saturday; if anyone who wants to book a tour is only available on Sunday, email me with your availability and I'll schedule a special Sunday tour.

Please be advised: Airbnb requires photo ID verification. Be sure to add your ID within three days of booking or Airbnb will cancel your reservation.

Tour groups max out at 10 guests, so this will be a more personal experience than one of my lectures.

Goodnight from Frenchtown,

C.C.

P.S. Blogger has been eating my replies to comments for months and won't fix the problem...if you comment and would like a response, or if you have any questions, please include an email address so I can get back to you.

The Trials of Simon Gless

Simon Gless was living on Alameda Street and working as a bartender when his well-to-do uncle, Gaston Oxarat, passed away in 1886.

Quiet, unassuming, twenty-four-year-old Gless - his uncle's favorite nephew - inherited Rancho Los Encinos, fifty acres in Boyle Heights, the Postoffice Block and Odd Fellows Block (home of the City of Paris department store at the time) downtown, properties in San Francisco and in France, and about $29,000 in cash (about $800,000 today). It would be impossible to put a price tag on the Oxarat-Gless real estate holdings today, but to give my dear readers a rough idea, Rancho Los Encinos was subdivided into Encino and Sherman Oaks after World War II. The downtown properties were, at the time, some of the most valuable in Los Angeles.

Oxarat's body was barely cold before the mess hit the fan.

Simon was sued, separately, by his uncle's son, by a woman claiming to have married Gaston in 1874, and by a woman who claimed to be Gaston's illegitimate daughter. All of them wanted a chunk of Gaston's valuable estate.

Simon agreed to pay a French Basque attorney, M.V. Biscailuz, either $45,000 or $60,000 (sources disagree) to handle his uncle's estate. This ultimately did not go well, and eventually led to Simon suing Biscailuz years later. Judge Van Dyke sided with Biscailuz but reduced his fee to $14,000. 

Benita Murillo, filing a lawsuit under the name "Benita Oxarat", claimed that she was Gaston's wife and that Gaston was the father of her son Francisco. The case went to probate court. When Benita took the stand, her story crumbled. She admitted that she was not Gaston's wife and that Gaston was not Francisco's father. In fact, she stated that Edward Amar (another prominent French Basque who developed much of old San Pedro) had persuaded her to contest the will and claim to be Oxarat's widow.  

The other cases weren't so simple.

Within a few weeks of Benita's confession, Simon was back in court with his own lawsuit - against the rancho's prior owner, Eugene Garnier, and Garnier's business partner F.A. Gibson. Garnier and Gibson claimed to own a partial interest in the rancho, but Gless believed the document was a forgery.

I'll let the Los Angeles Herald (February 23, 1887) elaborate:

Plaintiff alleges that the agreement was forged by Garnier and that the claim is false. He avers that Garnier removed a certificate of acknowledgement made December 1, 1877, before Charles E. Beane, Notary Public, from another document and altering the certificate so as to make it appear to be a certificate of the acknowledgement of Oxarat and himself to the agreement, pasted it on the forged paper and filed it recently with Recorder Gibson. The document is now in the Recorder's office, and as it is material for plaintiff's case that it should not be destroyed, he asks that an injunction be issued to the Recorder preventing him from delivering it to defendant. Gless alleges that it is evident that the names were not written so long ago as 1877 nor further back than a year since, a different kind of ink was used and the writing is much fresher.

(As a Notary Public for the State of California, I was trained to spot this type of fraud. This is why certificates of acknowledgement HAVE TO be attached - no matter how much a signer whines about it - and why notaries have to make a separate journal entry for each notarized signature. If this case happened today, the alleged forgery would probably go to the crime lab and Beane's journal would probably be subpoenaed as evidence.)

Simon won that case, but Eugene Garnier filed an appeal and requested that the judgment be vacated. Garnier added that the judge in the case had a financial interest in the Gless estate and that he and his attorney were not permitted to view the relevant documents before their court date.

Adela Freeman, who claimed her birth name was Adela Oxarat, kept coming after Gless for part of the Oxarat estate, and managed to keep her claim limping along for a good six years. She was so persistent that one newspaper reporting on the case incorrectly stated Simon Gless was no relation to Gaston Oxarat.

Basque genealogy site Bridge2Pyrenees lists over a dozen court cases involving Gless. Yet another French Basque, J.B. Leonis, retained Gless as a Basque translator for his own court cases.

With all of his appearances in court as plaintiff, defendant, or translator, Gless may very well have spent more time in a courtroom than he did on the rancho.

Life wasn't all bad - Gless married Juanita Amestoy, daughter of rancher Dominique "Don Domingo" Amestoy in San Francisco in 1886, a few months after inheriting Gaston's estate.

Juanita Amestoy's wedding dress

Simon and Juanita had three children - Constant Simon (1890), Domingo Amestoy (1892), and Noeline Elizabeth (1897). 

After fighting so hard to keep Rancho Los Encinos, Simon sold it to his father-in-law. Valley lore has it that he sold the rancho for $5 after buying a block of ice downtown and finding it had already melted away upon arriving home (I'm from Sherman Oaks...this story may or may not be true, but the southern Valley is hot enough that it's definitely plausible). Another source says Amestoy paid $125,000 and wanted to subdivide the land for farming. In either case, the Gless family moved to 131 Boyle Avenue in Boyle Heights.

Gless farmhouse in Boyle Heights

Long after his mother's admission of fraud on the stand, Francisco Morillo came after Gless himself, still claiming to be Gaston's son. The matter had already been settled financially, but Morillo wouldn't drop it.

In April 1891, M.V. Biscailuz accused Simon of assault. Simon was arrested and the matter went to court, along with that long-brewing lawsuit against Biscailuz. The case dragged on for some time, but Biscailuz eventually dropped the charges against Simon. 

Two months later, Simon checked into Santa Ana's Brunswick Hotel, where he suffered a mental breakdown. Simon claimed he had been attacked by two Mexicans, but wasn't able to recall the details of the alleged incident. He was monitored overnight, took the train home to Los Angeles in the morning, and fired a revolver in his bedroom five times that evening.

After five years of lawsuits and harassment, Simon was so fearful and paranoid that he nearly attacked a visiting friend with a music box (Juanita intervened). 

Simon was taken to the Amestoy ranch (near modern-day Gardena) to recuperate; however, his attending physicians weren't optimistic about his odds of recovery. 

Mental illness of any kind was highly taboo in the Victorian era, and apart from one news article, little seems to be known about Simon's condition. 

Simon contracted chronic intestinal nephritis ("Bright's disease") at age 41 in 1903 and passed away after a few months. He died at home, with Juanita and the children at his side. 

Although Simon was mercilessly hounded by dishonest people, he was loved and missed by family and friends - so much so that the funeral procession was over half a mile long. Interestingly, given all the time he spent in courtrooms, two of the pallbearers were judges. 

Simon is unique among French Angelenos in that TWO former residences remain standing today - and Gless Street in Boyle Heights is named for him. 

The Gless farmhouse was landmarked in 2010, with the support of Gless family descendants - including Simon's great-granddaughter, Sharon Gless. 131 Boyle Avenue served as the Hebrew Shelter Home and Asylum for many years and has since been divided into apartments. Most of the tenants are mariachi musicians - fitting for a house located so close to Mariachi Plaza.

The Messy Legacy of Gaston Oxarat

You know things didn't go so well for Rancho Los Encinos' first French owners, the Garniers. The wool market collapsed, and it was all downhill from there.

The rancho went to auction in 1878. Gaston Oxarat, a French Basque, placed the winning bid. Oxarat had wanted a chance to buy the rancho for some time; he'd previously obtained a lien on the property as collateral when he loaned money to the Garniers.

Gaston Oxarat's saddle, on display at Rancho Los Encinos

Oxarat had arrived in Los Angeles in 1851, and was mentor and friend to Domingo Bastanchury, another French Basque who, at one time, owned more head of sheep than anyone else in Los Angeles County. Bastanchury's orange grove - the largest in the world - made up much of modern-day Fullerton (which I will get into at a later date). As it happens, he was married to Oxarat's niece, Maria.

In spite of the fact that wool no longer fetched good prices, Oxarat used the rancho to raise sheep. It wasn't his sole source of income; he also had orchards.

Sources disagree over whether Oxarat lived on the rancho, with the Ballade family as a boarder, or at 43 or 47 Boyle Avenue in Boyle Heights. The 1880 census record citing the Ballade residence could be a coincidence, since the boarder's age is given as 60 (Oxarat would have been 55 that year) and there were numerous French Basques living in Los Angeles by that point.

In any case, Oxarat (who was not in the best of health when he bought Rancho Los Encinos) passed away in 1886.

Things got messy after that.

Ten days after Gaston's death, the Morning Press stated that there were allegations of his death being due to poisoning. However, since there was no evidence, the authorities could take no action.

Oxarat left Rancho Los Encinos to his favorite nephew, Simon Gless. Less than a year later, Gless filed a lawsuit against Eugene Garnier and F.A. Gibson to clear the rancho's title. Eugene Garnier claimed that he and Gibson owned a partial interest in the rancho under an agreement made with Oxarat while he was still alive. Gless claimed the document was forged.

Francisco Oxarat, Gaston's son, was none too happy about Rancho Los Encinos being left to his cousin, and he took Simon Gless to court.

Benita Murillo, who claimed to have married Gaston in 1874, sued Simon Gless separately, seeking the widow's share of Rancho Los Encinos.

Adela Freeman, who claimed her maiden name was Oxarat, also sued Simon Gless, claiming to be Gaston's "sole surviving child" (which must have been quite a shock to Gaston's actual sole surviving child, Francisco).

In the end, Simon Gless kept Rancho Los Encinos...only to sell it later. But I'll get into that next time.

Never Give In: Philippe Garnier

Winston Churchill said it best: "If you're going through hell, keep going."

The Garnier brothers' glory days at Rancho Los Encinos had ended in financial ruin, foreclosure, and Eugene Garnier returning to France.

Philippe Garnier had no money and a family to support. He could have thrown in the towel and gone back to France, just like Eugene.

But he didn't give up. And he had a profound effect on a treasured surviving portion of Old Los Angeles.

In 1878, Philippe Garnier was flat broke.

In 1879, Philippe began serving as a director of the Farmers and Merchants Bank and slowly rebuilt his savings.

Between 1888 and 1890, Philippe Garnier built three commercial buildings in the Plaza area.

Jennette Block, housing the Hotel de Paris

The Jennette Block stood at Los Angeles and Arcadia Streets, with the Hotel de Paris occupying the building. (It's sometimes reported that the Jennette Block was at Los Angeles and Aliso Streets. Most of the French-owned hotels fell within a one-block radius of Alameda and Aliso Streets. However, a surviving picture of the Jennette Block puts it right next to the Garnier Building. It's much more likely that the Hotel de Paris was based in different buildings at different times, since there are records of a Hotel de Paris at Alameda and Aliso and at Main and Turner opposite the Pico House.)

In any case, the Jennette Block was razed for the 101 Freeway.

Garnier Block
(Home of La Plaza de Cultura y Artes)

Many years ago, a French sea captain (no, not that one - he lived on the next block) and his wife lived in the Plaza, across Main Street from the Pico House. Their adobe house was demolished to build the two-story Garnier Block. Retail stores occupied the ground floor; the tiny Plaza House Hotel was on the second floor.

In 1946, the County of Los Angeles purchased the building. It was used as County office space, with a Sheriff's Department crime lab on the second floor. Unfortunately, the 1971 earthquake shook some of the elaborate exterior ornamentation loose, which prompted the County to remove ALL of it (blasphemy!), board up the building, and leave the Garnier Block to rot (double blasphemy!).

The Garnier Block was renovated into the La Plaza de Cultura y Artes, which opened in 2011.

Garnier Building
(Home of the Chinese American Museum)

Although LA's first Chinese market opened during Damien Marchesseault's tenure as Mayor nearly thirty years earlier, Chinese Angelenos often didn't have an easy time securing commercial buildings to rent, and they weren't legally permitted to own property in the United States.

Philippe Garnier commissioned architect Abram Edelman (co-designer of the Shrine Auditorium) to design a long, two-story sandstone and red brick building - the Garnier Building - with Chinese tenants in mind. The lease was signed before the building was even finished, and for the first three years of the lease, the rent on the entire building was only $200 a month. The building used to be much larger (the southern wing was razed in the 1950s along with the Jennette Block), so Philippe's tenants were initially paying below market rate.

Chinese-American social organizations, businesses, schools, and churches were all based in the Garnier Building. It was, in effect, Chinatown City Hall from 1890 to 1953 (when the state purchased the Plaza buildings). The original Chinatown was razed for Union Station, so the Garnier Building is the only remaining structure from Old Chinatown.

Interestingly, the building occupies the corner of Arcadia and Los Angeles Streets - where the 1871 Chinese Massacre broke out.

Today, the remaining half of the Garnier Building houses the Chinese American Museum.

Take a moment to consider this: the Plaza is known for its Spanish/Mexican history and character, so much so that angry activists vocally opposed plans to restore the Italian Hall (also in the Plaza) and reopen it as a museum. Yet, no one ever talks about the fact that the Plaza is also home to a historic property commissioned by a French immigrant, designed by a Polish-Jewish architect, and built for the city's most hated ethnic group of the era - the Chinese. And only half of that building was lost to freeway construction. That's pretty amazing.

Philippe Garnier may not be well remembered today, but two (well, one and a half) of his buildings remain in the Plaza.

A Vintage Glimpse at the Ville de Paris

Once upon a time in Forgotten French Los Angeles, the best department store was the Ville de Paris/City of Paris.

Founded and owned by a succession of Jewish-French entrepreneurs (all cousins), the City of Paris most famously occupied the Homer Laughlin Building until 1917, when it became Grand Central Market.

Surviving pictures of the store, especially the interior, have proven maddeningly elusive. I have had to content myself with trying to spot what little remains of the store's original 'bones' whenever I'm waiting in line at Ramen Hood or Golden Road.

Major beret-tip to Retroformat Films for sharing the fact that the next film they're screening was partially filmed inside the Ville de Paris! I've seen my share of silent films and I never knew that. (The film is from 1923, after the Ville de Paris moved out of the Homer Laughlin Building. Still, it's a surviving look into a store that has very few surviving pictures of any of its locations.)

Safety Last!, starring Harold Lloyd and his creative partner/real-life wife Mildred Harris, is screening this Saturday night at the Woman's Club of Hollywood, with live musical accompaniment. Tickets available here.

Can't make it? Safety Last! is also available on YouTube.

Eugene Garnier Just Couldn't Take It Anymore

It's high time I introduced my readers to the four French families who owned Rancho Los Encinos - one of my favorite places in Los Angeles - one after the other, for close to a century.

Quick overview for context:

Rancho Los Encinos (sometimes called Rancho El Encino, now Los Encinos State Historic Park) was a Spanish land grant given to LA's first mayor, Francisco Reyes. When the authorities discovered Reyes had been mistreating his Native American hired hands, they revoked the grant and Governor Pio Pico reassigned it to three of the very same workers Reyes had been exploiting.

Don Vicente de la Osa bought the rancho from the Tongva ranchers, raised cattle, built the adobe house that still stands on what's left of the property (it's the second oldest structure in the Valley), turned the house into a stagecoach stop and roadhouse when the cattle market collapsed, and eventually sold the rancho to a Yankee named Jim Thompson.

Jim Thompson sold Rancho Los Encinos in 1869. The buyers, Eugene and Philippe Garnier, were immigrants from France. (There were other Garnier brothers - Abel, Camille, and Léon, but little is known about them except that Camille and Léon were two of the city's biggest spenders and could often be seen dining at one of Victor Dol's restaurants.)

Philippe merits his own entry, and you'll understand why when you read it. Anyway...

Faux marbre dining salon at Rancho Los Encinos

Like so many other French immigrants who settled in Southern California in the 19th century, the Garniers were in the sheep business, and had a reputation for producing high-quality wool.

The rancho was still on the stagecoach route (today it's Ventura Boulevard). And, being from France, the Garniers knew how to top even Don Vicente's fine hospitality.

The brothers had the adobe's dining room painted with stunning faux marbre panels. Despite being almost 20 miles from what was then the heart of the city (long before the 101 existed...or, for that matter, the car), the Garniers served such good food that Andrés Pico - brother of Pio Pico - made a point of bringing VIP guests to the rancho for breakfast. In those days, it was a tiring, 15-mile horseback trip on a dirt road from Pico's house. I can't even imagine getting up before dawn and spending a couple of hours on a rough, sweaty horseback ride just to eat breakfast in Encino*, but apparently it was worth the trip for Pico and his guests.

Eugene built a two-story limestone house - a copy of the family home in France - opposite the adobe. The Garniers lived in the adobe; the limestone house was a bunkhouse for the ranch hands and for tired travelers. Today, the house is Rancho Los Encinos' visitor center.

Eugene Garnier's French farmhouse at Rancho Los Encinos

Rancho Los Encinos had its own freshwater spring - a VERY desirable feature anywhere in Los Angeles County, and especially in the hot, dry San Fernando Valley. Eugene built a brick-lined pond to collect the spring water - and he took care to shape it like a Spanish guitar. Novelty shaped swimming pools - i.e. Jayne Mansfield's heart-shaped pool - may well owe a debt to Eugene Garnier's guitar-shaped pond.

Eugene put a great deal of work into making Rancho Los Encinos what it was at its peak - and what it still is today.

Unfortunately, it wouldn't last.

In the late 1870s, the wool market collapsed. And it couldn't have collapsed at a worse time for the Garniers, who had overextended themselves financially during a brutal drought that dried up their grazing fields. And to make matters worse, the roadhouse business had waned due to fear of stagecoach robbers...followed by stagecoach service ending when the railroad came to Los Angeles in 1876.

The Garniers continued to run a tavern on the premises, but like so many other French immigrants in the sheep trade, they had to find a new primary source of income.

Isaac Newton Van Nuys, who owned most of the southern Valley, had introduced dryland grain farming a few years previously. It was a no-brainer for the Garniers to turn their grazing land into wheat fields.

Unfortunately, there was the matter of their other neighbor, Don Miguel Leonis.

Leonis, possibly the most ambitious transplant in the history of Greater Los Angeles (and THAT is saying something), snapped up land whenever he could, and controlled most of the western Valley. Rancho Los Encinos, right next to Leonis' Rancho El Escorpion, was a very desirable property - especially because it had its own supply of fresh water.

You know where this is going, right?

In 1878, Eugene Garnier stated, under oath in a Los Angeles courtroom, that Leonis and his hired thugs had beaten the Garniers' hired hands and burned the rancho's wheat fields.

When asked if Leonis was his enemy, Eugene confirmed this, adding that he was forced to testify and that he would not be in the same courtroom with Leonis if he'd had a choice.

Having lost their wheat crop, the Garniers couldn't pay the bills anymore, and the rancho was bought at auction by Gaston Oxarat (who had previously obtained a lien on the rancho when he loaned money to the brothers).

Eugene Garnier went back to France soon after that day in court, never to permanently return to Los Angeles.

But can you blame the guy? He just couldn't take it anymore.

*This is not a snobby Westsider jab at Encino. I'm from Sherman Oaks.

The French Hospital Will Rise Again

If you were on the Esotouric bus on September 7, you were probably just as horrified as I was to see the French Hospital behind demolition fencing.

Demolition fencing at the French Hospital. Photo courtesy of Esotouric.

The French Hospital - established in 1869, rebuilt in 1915, expanded in 1926, renamed the Pacific Alliance Medical Center in 1989, closed in 2017 and sold in 2018 - couldn't reopen as a full-service hospital. California hospitals are subject to very strict earthquake safety standards, and the aging building would need over $100 million in renovations to meet those requirements.

That's never good news in a city that loves any reason to erase its own history.

I've been checking for demolition permits every single day, dreading bad news. No demolition permits have been issued for 531 West College Street. 

However, lack of a permit doesn't prevent demolition. I had to be sure.

I reached out to Munson Kwok, who is on the board of the Chinese American Museum and knows Chinatown like no one else I have ever met. If something is going on in Chinatown, Munson probably knows about it.

Munson assures me that the French Hospital isn't going anywhere.

The hospital site's new owner is Allied Pacific IPA, an HMO based in Alhambra. They are in the process of converting the building into an urgent care center.  Because urgent care centers don't admit overnight patients, they are subject to fewer seismic standards (and a much less costly renovation).

Munson spoke to Allied Pacific's CEO and founders recently at an event. One of them is an old friend of his. If he trusts them, then so will I.

Apparently, the Department of Building and Safety has some issues with the parking lot and the front of the building. This has caused the conversion to drag on for longer than planned. 

Allied Pacific hopes to have the urgent care center open in October - and, to Munson's knowledge, doesn't plan to replace the building, just rehabilitate it. 

Merci, Munson.