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.

We're Still Here, Part 3B: Rancho Los Encinos

Moving on to the next historic location in the Valley, we find a very special property that many Angelenos don't even know exists. 

Los Encinos State Historic Park is all that remains of Rancho Los Encinos (sometimes called Rancho El Encino). The original rancho was established by Francisco Reyes (first alcalde, or mayor, of Los Angeles), re-granted to three Tongva ranchers by Pio Pico (Reyes allegedly mistreated his Native American ranch hands), sold to the de la Osa family, and sold to a Yankee named Thompson...who sold it to Philippe and Eugene Garnier in 1869.

The Garnier brothers were the first of four French families to own the property. 

Philippe Garnier, Gaston Oxarat, Simon Gless, and Domingo Amestoy.

Former residents. Note the prevalence of Basque surnames.

The original de la Osa adobe house. This is the second oldest structure in the Valley - and the only one that is pretty much unaltered.

Philippe Garnier's shaving stand.

Gaston Oxarat's saddle. This finely tooled piece was originally covered with tiny silver conchas (shells).

Juanita Amestoy wore this beautiful gown when she married Simon Gless.

Don Vicente de la Osa had previously turned the adobe into a stagecoach stop and roadside inn. The Garnier brothers, being from France, kicked the hospitality up a notch.

The Garniers had one of the adobe's rooms painted with beautifully detailed faux marbre panels.

Can you believe some idiot PLASTERED OVER these stunning walls? For over a century, no one knew this fine paint job was even there.

Try, if you can, to let your imagination fill in the blanks. It's a beautiful room now - it must have looked even better then.

I do hope someone else takes the time to notice that the plastic food on the table is French in theme. (Why is there a red candle? Did red paraffin even exist in the 1870s?)

The Northridge earthquake of 1994 severely damaged the adobe (one outer wall caved in, requiring extensive repairs). However, there was one silver lining: the earthquake may have damaged the house, but it shook much of the offending plaster right off the salon's walls. As you can see, some of the faux marbre is still covered by plaster. There is a good reason for this: the adobe is very old and very delicate. Some things are best left alone, even if they're not perfect.

What's that next to the adobe?

It's a French farmhouse!

No joke: the Garnier brothers built this two-story limestone house, said to be a copy of the family home in France, to house their employees. They also built a brick-lined pond shaped like a Spanish guitar to collect water from the natural spring on the property.

The Garniers hit tough times: they overextended themselves financially, the wool market collapsed, and Miguel Leonis tried to intimidate the brothers out of their home by burning their wheat fields and beating up their ranch hands. (Fight me on the subject of Leonis if you want, but Eugene Garnier's court testimony backs this up.) They lost the rancho to foreclosure in 1878, and it passed to Gaston Oxarat.

Gaston Oxarat, in turn, left the rancho to his nephew, Simon Gless. Legend has it that one day, Gless bought a large block of ice downtown and, upon returning to the rancho, found that it had already melted away. This was too much for Gless (I can't blame him one bit, since I know how hot it gets in the Valley - and this was long before air conditioning or swimming pools). He decided to sell the property and move to Boyle Heights (the Gless farmhouse in Boyle Heights is, incredibly, also still standing).

Simon Gless was married to Juanita Amestoy, and her father Dominique already had significant land holdings elsewhere in Los Angeles County. Dominique, commonly called "Don Domingo", smartly snapped up Rancho Los Encinos. Other members of the Amestoy family lived on the property until 1945. 

The Amestoys began to sell off bits of the rancho in the early 20th century, but it wasn't until after World War II that the bulk of it was subdivided into modern-day Encino and Sherman Oaks (my neighborhood).

Supposedly, the adobe was used as a sales office for the new housing tracts and (what else...) subsequently slated for demolition. Concerned neighbors fought hard to have the buildings preserved (thank God).

The last remaining scrap of Rancho Los Encinos has been a California state historic park since 1949 and can be visited Wednesday through Sunday, 10am to 5pm (excluding holidays). There is a pedestrian entrance on Ventura Boulevard, but virtually no one seems to notice it is even there.

We're Still Here, Part 3: The San Fernando Valley

Continuing my series on surviving places linked to Southern California's forgotten French community, we come to a place that hits close to home.

Because it IS my home. I'm a genuine, authentic Valley girl (hang around me long enough and you just might detect bits of my old accent).

(Well, it was my childhood home, anyway. I've lived in various beach towns continuously since 2001.)

Let's start in Calabasas and work our way east...

Michel Leonis, nicknamed "Don Miguel" out of fear rather than respect, discovered a dilapidated adobe house on the grounds of Rancho El Escorpion (huge naming opportunity missed here: Rancho El Escorpion sounds so much more badass than Calabasas - Spanish for "squashes"). He and his Chumash wife, Espiritu Chijulla, fixed it up (enclosing the rear staircase and adding the balcony), moved in, and lived here until their respective deaths.

The house - long empty and once again severely neglected - was nearly torn down in 1962 for - you guessed it - a supermarket parking lot. Thankfully, it's still with us today.

(I will devote separate entries to Leonis and to the Leonis Adobe Museum.)

Moving east, we find...

Running north-south from Ventura Boulevard to Granada Hills (okay, fine, it's interrupted in a couple of places), Amestoy Avenue was named for another French Basque ranching family - the Amestoys.

(The Amestoys will get their own entry.)

Just a few blocks east of Amestoy Avenue is one of their former homes - Rancho Los Encinos.

Four French and French Basque families - Garnier, Oxarat, Gless, and Amestoy - owned the rancho in turn. The original adobe is on the right. The two-story house on the left was built by the four Garnier brothers to house the rancho's employees, and is said to be a copy of the family home in France.

Although slightly beyond the scope of this entry, but worth noting, is the fact that Eugene Garnier once testified against Michel Leonis in court. Leonis, a brutal and terrifying thug who added to his vast land holdings through harassment and intimidation, burned the Garniers' newly planted wheat field and beat their employees. Eugene stated in court that he was testifying only because he was forced to do so, and later returned to France. His brother Philippe Garnier, bloody but unbowed, went on to build the Garnier Building and lease it to Chinese tenants.

I include this photo as proof that culture and beauty do, in fact, exist in the Valley if you know where to look. The Garnier brothers were legendary for their hospitality - so much so that Pio Pico's brother Andrés used to bring very special guests all the way to Rancho Los Encinos (from what is now downtown) - ON HORSEBACK. For BREAKFAST.

And those very special guests dined in the Garniers' grand salon, which boasted the most striking faux marbre walls in the history of Los Angeles. (I hope someone else takes the time to notice that the plastic food on the table is French in theme - grapes, brie, asparagus, and crusty-looking bread.)

At some point, an incredibly foolish individual elected to plaster over the faux marbre. The adobe was severely damaged in the Northridge earthquake of 1994, but with one silver lining - much of the plaster covering the salon's elaborately painted walls fell off. (Portions of the offending plaster remain. This is a very delicate old house, and that paint is well over 100 years old. Some things are best left well enough alone.)

(All four families merit, and will get, their own entries. Ditto Los Encinos State Historic Park, where the adobe and the ranch hands' quarters are located.)

The Amestoy family - the last French owners of the rancho - held onto much of the land (including these buildings) until 1944. After World War II, Rancho Los Encinos was subdivided into (what else) Encino and (my neck of the woods) Sherman Oaks.

On a personal note, my mother was completely shocked to learn that the Los Encinos adobe was a) still standing, b), continuously French-owned for much of its existence, c) right above Ventura Boulevard (a thoroughfare my family knows pretty well), and d) less than six miles from our old house in Sherman Oaks. She's said that if she had ANY idea, she would have taken me there when I was a child (in addition to Olvera Street, Chinatown, etc.).

Moving further east...

A street in Mission Hills was named for onetime mayor Joseph Mascarel. I suspect he owned land in the area (he owned significant amounts of land in FOUR counties). Today, he is so little-known that whoever made this sign didn't bother to check the spelling.

Heading further east...

Solomon Lazard was both French and Jewish, and was so popular with Angelenos of all ethnicities that he was nicknamed "Don Solomon" and often acted as floor manager for fandangos. He was the first President of the Los Angeles Chamber of Commerce, co-founded the City Water Company (later LADWP) with Prudent Beaudry and Dr. Griffin, founded the City of Paris department store (which he later sold to his cousins, Eugene and Constant Meyer), and was active in the Golden Rule Lodge and the Hebrew Benevolent Society. Today, he's been reduced to a street sign on a cul-de-sac in San Fernando. (There was a different Lazard Street long ago, and Mayor Mascarel lived there until his death. It was renamed Ducommun Street. I'll explain why when I get to Charles Ducommun.)

Heading even further east, we reach our final stop in the furthest reaches of Glendale...

You know who Georges Le Mesnager was. This stone barn was built for his vineyard, located in what is now Deukmejian Wilderness Park. When it was damaged in a fire, his son converted it into a farmhouse - which the family lived in until the 1960s.

The barn has been undergoing a remodel/conversion into an interpretive center.

I knew nothing about any of these places until I began to research LA's forgotten French history - and one of them was just a few miles from my house. Small wonder that most Angelenos have NO idea about Frenchtown.

Godissart's of Hollywood

When you hear "Hollywood" and "makeup" in the same sentence, who do you think of? Max Factor, whose building now houses the Hollywood Museum? The Westmores, who have a star on the Walk of Fame? Or perhaps one of the celebrity makeup artists working today?

What would you say if I told you a French-speaking Belgian had his own shop on Hollywood Boulevard?

Joseph G. Godissart in 1934

Joseph G. Godissart was born in Roux, Belgium, about twenty miles from the French border, in 1877. The Godissarts came to Los Angeles in 1910, moving into a bungalow at 808 South Harvard Boulevard in what is now Koreatown. 

Godissart's daughter Sylvia was a quadruple threat - she acted, sang, danced, and played the piano. She was already appearing in Universal films and local stage productions as a teenager, and in 1919, she went to France for two years to study stage acting after completing a course at the Egan School of Drama. 

1919 clip on Sylvia Godissart going to France to study acting

Godissart accompanied his 16-year-old daughter to Paris and studied the art and science of perfume under A. Muraour, one of France's most renowned chemists, an author of technical books on perfume, and founder of the perfume company Nissery. 

At least one newspaper account suggested that Alice Godissart would be joining her husband and daughter in Paris, but there was trouble in paradise. Godissart filed for divorce in Reno in 1920, claiming Alice had been extremely cruel to him and alleging that she had cheated with a doctor. Alice disputed this, stating that he had failed to adequately support her. She stated that while he was in France during the war, he left only $1000 for her to live on, forcing her to rent out the family home.

Alice Godissart stated that when her husband left in January of 1920, he left only $10,000 of the couple's community property, estimated at $100,000. She filed her own divorce complaint in Los Angeles in 1924, denying the allegations of infidelity and asserting that the claims had caused her humiliation and mental anguish. Additionally, she suspected that Godissart had hidden the bulk of their money in French banks.

Godissart moved to Paris and obtained a divorce decree there. Alice fought this decree, and in 1926 Judge Hollzer of Los Angeles Superior Court ruled that "Defendant was not in good faith a resident of Paris at the time, and therefore not subject to the jurisdiction of that tribunal. It is apparent he simply went to Paris for the purpose of getting a divorce. Such a trip does not establish residence. Decree for the plaintiff." Alice got the house.

Regardless of the Godissarts' allegations against each other, just a few months later they jointly threw Sylvia's engagement party at the Encino Country Club, and Godissart began building his cosmetics business.

I should note that there is conflicting information about precisely when Godissart's perfume business launched. Some sources claim that Godissart was a former restauranteur, others that he was a retired wealthy merchant, and Godissart himself claimed that his family had been making perfume for six generations, or since 1732. Another article (see below) claims that the Godissarts had been making perfume for 300 years. This seems to conflict with the fact that Godissart was from a part of Belgium that is not close to the perfume industry's epicenter in Southern France, and that I can't find any record of him being in the perfume business until the 1920s. In fact, I can't find any mention of the Godissart family in the perfume industry prior to that. References to the Godissarts prior to the opening of the first Godissart store do not mention perfume at all. (If anyone finds proof of the company's existence prior to 1925, please contact me with citations.)

There are multiple references to Godissart managing the Richelieu Cafe company, which lends weight to a background in the restaurant industry. He is cited as a former proprietor of Cafe de Paris in a 1912 ad for the Richelieu Cafe. Interestingly, when Levy's Cafe lost its liquor license under Godissart's co-management, it reopened as Richelieu Cafe, got a new license, lost it again, and closed in 1913.

Godissart also claimed to be a descendant of the man who inspired Balzac's Felix Gaudissart stories. However, available records on the Godissart family seem to run out with Godissart's father.

Godissart rigorously tested his ideas in France - arguably the toughest perfume market of all - before returning to Los Angeles. He set up a modern laboratory in Hollywood, where perfume was made from raw materials he imported from the main laboratory in Asnières.

Godissart also made face powder. Le Guide Français claims "The unique idea of mixing face powder in the presence of the customers to suit their complexion or taste originated with this farsighted parfumeur." 

Godissart then began opening his own stores. Godissart's Parfum Classique Français first opened at 744 West 7th Street in 1925, and was so popular that within a year a second store opened at 313 South Broadway (inside the Million Dollar Theatre). 

Finally, a store opened at 6403 Hollywood Boulevard in 1930. From the main laboratory at 1703 North Kenmore, Godissart supplied stores in Los Angeles, Santa Monica, San Francisco, Oakland, Portland, Seattle, Detroit, Dallas, Fort Worth, Shreveport, and New Orleans. There was a satellite office at 14 Rue de Sevigne in Paris.

1930 newspaper page with multiple mentions of the new Godissart's store on Hollywood Boulevard.  

In an interesting side note, the above newspaper page names Louis Blondeau as the owner of the property. The Blondeau family's shuttered tavern housed Nestor Film Company, which had merged with Sylvia's former employer - Universal - in 1912. (If you're wondering about Sylvia, she married Ervin Adamson soon after returning from France and seems to have retired from acting at that point.)

1931 ad for Godissart's sixth anniversary sale

The 1931 ad above indicates that Godissart's had opened an additional 7th Street location, at number 744. The BLOC stands there today. Besides perfume and powder, Godissart's was selling lipsticks, soaps, skincare products, and dusting powder (applied to the body after bathing). 

Another Broadway location opened in 1933, at number 709. Pictures of Godissart stores are elusive, but an article on the store's opening provides an idea of how they looked. The new Broadway store boasted a white marble, Mexican onyx, and verde bronze facade, "French ecru" walls and ceilings with gold trim, a "French ecru" carpet with rosebuds, and a French-style crystal chandelier "all modeled after the Renaissance period". (Which seems like a bit of a stretch, since ecru and gold has me thinking Louis XVI.)

1934 ad for Godissart's custom-blended face powder

1934 ad for Godissart's powder, claiming it does not dry out the skin and cause age lines.

1934 classified ad for Godissart's franchising opportunities outside of LA

1935 article on the new Hollywood Boulevard store.

Do note that in the above article from 1935, not only did Godissart open a new Hollywood Boulevard store, but he added a custom hosiery line. The article also claims the Godissart family had been in the perfume industry for 300 years. It isn't clear if this was a typo or an exaggeration on Godissart's part.

1935 California Eagle clipping mentioning Godissart’s full line being sold at Ruth's Beauty Shop, a Central Avenue beauty shop that catered to Black women. 

1937 ad for the opening of a new Godissart's in Oakland.

Godissart also invested in real estate, buying a new eight-unit apartment building, namely 1124 Hacienda Place in West Hollywood, in 1940. It's still standing.

1941 ad for Vita-Cell, Godissart's latest, and perhaps last, innovation.

Godissart's laboratory introduced a new product in 1941: Vita-Cell mouthwash.

Vita-Cell ad from 1941, offering a "generous free sample".

Joseph's 1941 obituary.

Joseph G. Godissart passed away in 1941, and is buried at Forest Lawn in Glendale. His second wife, Angele Cazaux Godissart, kept the business running after his death. She passed away in 1948.

1952 blurb about Godissart's management change and move to the Lowe's State Building.

Mentions of Godissart's cosmetic company peter out in 1953. Now it’s just as forgotten as Godissart himself.

The Other Rémi Nadeau

(Dear readers: the ads are only supposed to appear in the sidebar. I am trying to get that fixed.)

When I began researching Old French Los Angeles seven years ago, one name came up again and again and again: Rémi Nadeau. Victorian Los Angeles aficionados should be familiar with Rémi as well.

I was pleasantly surprised to discover that there was another Rémi Nadeau - one still living. 

Rémi Allen Nadeau was born in Los Angeles in 1920, attended University High School (my mom's alma mater), and became an Eagle Scout. While majoring in American and World History at Stanford University, Rémi became an Army Air Corps officer through ROTC.

After completing his BA in 1942, Rémi served with the 320th Bomb Group, flying combat missions and serving as an intelligence officer. He was discharged in 1946, having achieved the rank of Major. 

Rémi returned to Los Angeles, where he met Margaret Smith. They married in 1947, and had three children - Christine, Barbara, and Bob.

Rémi had already completed his first manuscript, City Makers, in 1946. After its publication in book form in 1948, it would become a bestseller. City Makers details the people who made Los Angeles into a world city. Rémi Nadeau the freighter is mentioned, of course. (I have the 1948 edition. The city-map end papers are to die for.)

Rémi continued to write history books while working as an editorial writer for newspapers. In time, he became a public relations executive, then special assistant to the United States Attorney General. Rémi wrote speeches and statements for AG John N. Mitchell, AG Richard Kleindienst, and President Richard Nixon.

This would be an impressive career on its own, but Rémi continued to publish history books every few years. 

The Water Seekers followed City Makers in 1950. 

Los Angeles: From Mission to Modern City (one of my favorites) was published in 1960. Tellingly, the introduction is all about traffic. (Sometimes it's comforting to know my hometown hasn't changed that much.)

California: The New Society hit bookstore shelves in 1963. California had recently become the nation's most populous state. Was it really so different from everywhere else? Rémi seemed to think so. 

Ghost Towns and Mining Camps of California: A History and Guide followed in 1965. (I, for one, would love to use this book as the basis for a road trip...and not just because I'm under quarantine and have a bad case of cabin fever.)

Fort Laramie and the Sioux Indians came along in 1967, then The Real Joaquin Murieta: Robin Hood Hero or Gold Rush Gangster: Truth vs. Myth (too many colons, I know) in 1974.

In 1980, Rémi retired from the world of public relations and earned a Doctor of Philosophy degree in History from UC Santa Barbara. He published Stalin, Churchill, and Roosevelt Divide Europe in 1990, then The Silver Seekers: They Tamed California's Last Frontier in 2003.

Rémi's longtime home was in Encino, south of the 101 and west of the 405, in a house high up on a hill overlooking the Valley. My family's neighborhood was less than 5 miles away. 

I always wanted to interview Rémi. But I put off contacting his publisher. No matter how much I read or how many hours I devoted to research, I still felt that I wasn't informed enough to pick his brain (I hadn't even launched this blog yet). I was aware of the fact that he was over 90 years old, but I still couldn't bring myself to reach out.

Rémi died of natural causes in 2016 in Santa Barbara. He was 95.

I wish I'd at least tried to get in touch with him.

If any of my dear readers have been wanting to do something or talk to someone - just do it when you get a chance. Life's too short to have regrets.

The Monster of Calabasas: Michel "Don Miguel" Leonis

Updated to add:

I want our stories told, for better or for worse.

That said, a rather unpleasant character has tried to fight me, in the comments of my own blog, on the subject of Miguel Leonis.

This individual rudely ignored several requests to identify themselves and provide citations for the "facts" they wished to provide. 

If I am incorrect, by all means email me (losfrangeles at gmail dot com). However, I will ask you to identify yourself, identify any credentials you cite, and cite exact sources so I can double-check them myself. 

I'm not stupid.

Michel "Don Miguel" Leonis, date unknown

I’m not going to mince words. Michel Leonis, a six-foot-four-inch, 220-pound French Basque dubbed “Don Miguel” out of fear rather than respect, was a human stain.

No one can say for sure why Leonis left France's Basque region for California. Some sources say that he was a smuggler wanted by both the French AND Spanish authorities. Others say that his penchant for illegal activity back in France shamed his powerful family so much that his father demanded he leave. We may never know the truth, but either way, he was not one of the good guys.

When he arrived in 1854, Leonis worked as a foreman on Rancho El Escorpion in the western San Fernando Valley. Some say that he was illiterate and only spoke Basque; others say he could manage limited amounts of Spanish and English. (His friendships with George Le Mesnager and Joseph Mascarel suggest that he could, at bare minimum, converse in French.) 

Interestingly, Woodland Hills' continuation school was formerly called Miguel Leonis High School (it closed in 2015). But regardless of how educated Don Miguel might have been, within a few years he’d bought out his employer’s half of the rancho.

The other half of the rancho belonged to a Chumash widow named Espiritu Chijulla Menendez. 

You know where this is going, right?

Espíritu Chijulla Leonis

Leonis married Espiritu in 1859, took over her half of the rancho, raised sheep on it…and added to his land holdings many times over through threats, violence, and nuisance lawsuits. He was dubbed the “King of Calabasas”, but he owned or controlled most of the western San Fernando Valley and part of Ventura County. He also had a house and orchard downtown (he may have kept a mistress there) - the Aliso Village apartments now stand on the site. He confided in the few people he was close to that he wanted to build his own empire that could last forever. 

This is the Leonis adobe. Humble home for a man who dreamed of an empire.

The house was old and abandoned when Leonis stumbled upon it one day. He fixed it up, enclosed the back staircase, added the veranda...and never, EVER allowed Juan Menendez, Espiritu's son from her first marriage, inside the house. Instead, Leonis relegated young Juan to the barn.

Leonis had more than 100 employees, including Chumash and Mexican vaqueros whose sole responsibility was to scare off homesteaders who got too close to his property. One dispute resulted in a two-week standoff and culminated in a murder. His own employees were terrified of him. 


At one point, Leonis even tried to force the Garnier brothers, who owned Rancho Los Encinos (modern-day Encino/Sherman Oaks), off of their property. Eugene Garnier testified in court that Leonis' vaqueros had burned their newly planted wheat fields and beaten their employees. He also stated that he was testifying against Leonis only because he was forced to do so. It's not a coincidence that Eugene moved back to France (but we'll get to that when I get to the Garnier brothers).

When intimidation didn’t work, Leonis used the court system. He was a plaintiff in at least thirty property disputes. Just to put that into perspective, fewer than 4,000 people lived in all of LA County - which still included Orange County - in 1860. Leonis managed to sue at least thirty of them. And he wasn’t above bribing judges and juries with food and alcohol.

Marcelina Leonis, date unknown

Leonis did have one Achilles' heel - his daughter Marcelina, born in 1860 and named after Espiritu's aunt. Curiously, in spite of marrying her mother out of convenience, Leonis doted on his daughter and always gave her the best of everything. Marcelina received a better education than either of her parents did, and loved to play the piano. The few available resources on Marcelina state that unlike her father, she adored her mother and her older half-brother. But Marcelina’s life was cut short by smallpox when she was only twenty. For three days after Marcelina’s death, Leonis drank heavily - well, more heavily than usual.

One story states that after losing Marcelina, Leonis attempted to hang himself from a tree behind the adobe, using his horse as a hanging platform. But the horse stubbornly refused to budge. Only when Leonis dismounted did the horse bolt. Leonis was so angry that he allegedly cut off the tree branch from which he'd tried to hang himself.

You’d think that suddenly losing his only child might have prompted Leonis to rethink some of his life choices. But it didn’t.

In September of 1889, Leonis won his first court case since Marcelina’s death. He celebrated his victory in the saloons downtown before heading back to Calabasas. And got himself into what must be the earliest drunk-driving accident in Southern California history.

Somewhere in the Cahuenga Pass, Leonis fell out of his wagon, and its heavy wheels ran right over his face and chest. He was taken to a (coincidentally French-owned) roadhouse on the Valley side of the pass. After three days of agony, the man who had terrorized the western Valley was dead. He was buried at Calvary Cemetery next to Marcelina.

The very next day, Juan finally moved into his mother's house.

You’d think that would be the end of it. But several years earlier, Leonis had hidden the nastiest trick of all up his sleeve.

Leonis married Espiritu for her family’s land, then proceeded to treat her like the help instead of his wife for the next thirty years. He was the third richest person in California when he died. Yet, he left Espiritu a pittance of $5,000, willing the rest of his money and land to his siblings. Adding insult to injury, he referred to Espiritu as his housekeeper, denied that they had ever been married, and left the money with the caveat that she would only get it if she didn’t contest the remainder of the will. 

Espiritu wasn’t well educated, but she wasn’t stupid. And she had suffered enough. She hired the best attorneys in town - Horace Bell and Stephen Mallory White, who had previously represented Miguel in some of his lawsuits.

For five weeks, the case dragged out in court. Witness after witness swore to the court that Leonis and Espiritu either were or weren't married. Espiritu's name was dragged through the mud again and again. One witness even claimed that she had never been married to her first husband and had lived with two other men (an extremely scandalous accusation for the time). Poor Marcelina's headstone was even submitted as evidence. The jury deliberated for less than a day before legally awarding Espiritu the widow’s share of her husband’s estate. 

The Los Angeles Times, which had gleefully covered Espiritu's court case in all of its ugly detail, published a (likely falsified) story of Espiritu marrying an 18-year-old man with some extremely salty commentary I won't repeat here.

Espiritu had to fight for her house in court again and again for the next 15 years (early LA had plenty of shady characters more than willing to swindle a two-time widow out of her own house), but she won her final case in 1906, and died a few months later. Juan and his family inherited the house (take THAT, Miguel). Espiritu is buried at Mission San Fernando (where she was born and educated). Should you wish to pay your respects, do note that she is interred under her first married name, Menendez.

Mere months before he died, Leonis wrote to his nephew, Jean Baptiste Leonis, asking him to come to California and eventually take over his estate. It didn’t quite work out that way, but by the time J.B. died, he’d established an empire of his own - in addition to one of California’s strangest cities. More on that in a future entry.

P.S. The aforementioned troll tried to convince me that Leonis was a good man, alleging that he was kind to children. First of all, there are many documented cases of black-hat individuals being kind to at least one child, so that's not enough to convince me. Second, the troll rudely refused my request to cite a source for this.

Good men DO NOT torch their neighbors' crops.

Good men DO NOT intimidate their neighbors or get their workers to beat up someone else's workers.

Good men DO NOT marry a widow just to gain control of her estate.

And good men most assuredly DO NOT disinherit their own widows, claiming they were never married.

I don't believe Leonis was a truly good person. If you want to convince me otherwise, show me REAL PROOF and give me an AIRTIGHT explanation for how he treated Espiritu - who owned half of Rancho El Escorpion in her own right before Miguel ever heard of Calabasas.

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.