Tiburcio Vasquez : Latin Robin Hood or bandit/murderer?

Great piece in the Times today on rising power of the Latino vote in Central California, a theme I suspect we'll see played out in many communities -including the SCV- in decades to come.

Educated, handsome and a charismatic ladies' man who wrote poetry, Vasquez the bandit became a celebrity during an era of social and economic upheaval in California.

His exploits — robberies, shootouts, eluding authorities — spawned countless newspaper articles, tell-all books, even a play during his life, which ended in 1875 when Vasquez was convicted of murder by an all-white jury and hanged.

"To the whites, he was an evil Mexican. To Latinos, he was a Robin Hood," said John Boessenecker, a San Francisco lawyer and historian who wrote a biography of Vasquez. "He was a symbol of hope and resistance."

A stage rumbled over the Hollister-New Ibria Mines Road in the late California afternoon. The shotgun guard dozed with the shiplike roll of the coach.

As the horses rounded a sharp turn, six armed riders blocked the way. One man grabbed the left lead horse's rein. Another bandit aimed his heavy rifle at the driver's head.

He was dark, handsome and slender.

"All right, senors, drop the express box."

He gestured with the rifle.

"Then get your passengers out."

A woman leaned from the carriage window. Her long blonde curls fell from beheath a plumed hat.

"Tiburcio, is that you?"

She shielded her eyes from the sun glare.

Tiburcio Vasquez, Central California's most successful bandit of the 1870s, glanced from the guard to the handsome woman.

"Senora, I didn't know you were traveling today."

"Tiburcio, we have the miners' payroll. Please don't take it. Those poor men will not be paid if you do."

Vasquez raised his sombrero and smiled. Then he turned to the driver.

"You are lucky to have such a passenger. Drive on!"

Vasquez's companions swore silently as the coach rolled away.

"For why did you do that?" one demanded.

"Ah, amigo, who can resist a lady so lovely. Besides she saved me from a sheriff once. There will be another stage."

That was the nature of Vasquez, the bandit and lover.

This game of cat-and-mouse continued until May 14, 1874 when a posse surrounded the desperado, capturing him at the Hollywood Hills home of camel driver "Greek" George Allen. The Greek was away at the moment, unwittingly leaving his wife to entertain Vasquez.

Los Angeles went wild when "The Scourge" was brought into town, stretched out on blood-stained hay in an ox-cart. After he was tossed into a cell, someone brought Vasquez a bottle of whiskey, which he cheerfully accepted and, with the first gulp, toasted the president of the United States.

Gushing ladies presented him with bouquets of flowers. A photographer set up a camera, took some pictures and hawked them on the street for twenty-five cents each. The Life of Vasquez played to standing-room-only audiences at the Merced Theatre, where the principal actor was coached by Tiburcio, who even loaned him his clothes. Everyone wanted the outlaw to play himself — everyone but Billy Rowland.

Vasquez was transferred to San Jose where he was convicted of murdering a hotel keeper during the Trés Piños "outrage." 

He was hanged March 19, 1875, at 1:35 p.m. His last word was "pronto."

Whatever your view of Vasquez, I think it's fair to say he was a complex character in a very complicated and strange time in California's history. It's a time most of us are strangely disconnected from here in 21st Century California; I think California's history, the relationships of its people (natives, easterners, the Spaniards & Mexicans) get scant attention in our public school curriculum, and that's a shame. California during the 19th Century is rich with history, at least as interesting if not more interesting than what occurred on the east coast in the 18th Century or during the Civil War in the 19th.