America’s Last Emperor: Broderick
By: Darren Mckeeman
Tags: Emperor Norton, San Francisco, Fiction, Historical Fiction, San Francisco History

Chapter Four

Click here for Chapter One.

A picture of the water lots at Fremont and Howard taken from Second Street (running in foreground) courtesy of OpenSFHistory.org

December 14, 1849

The pace of activity was hectic for Norton once the Genesee was run aground. The ship was stabilized by chopping down both of the masts of the brigantine and wedging large beams cut from the masts between the mud and the boat on either side of the rudder. At high tide small boats could float right up and unload with the Genesee’s deck davits. The deck was currently awash with laborers building a shed over the open deck, which would keep the stored goods dry. It was coming together — on his inspection visits to his lots, he mused that the wooden house on deck might have looked a lot like the Biblical ark of Noah.

The Genesee was one hundred thirty two feet long including the forespar. Coincidentally, one side of Norton’s fifty vara plot at Fremont and Howard, where the Genesee was run aground, was one hundred and thirty two feet long. Through the alcalde, Norton managed to get the city behind building the Fremont Street wharf and make it far easier to unload and cart goods across town to the stores Norton planned to build on his land at Jackson and Battery.

For the past few days life had settled into a steady routine for Norton. First was waking and breakfast at the Jones Hotel. He’d decided to stay there for a while, and managed to talk his way into a discount for a longer stay. He suspected that the hotel was hedging its bets, because it was getting harder to get top dollar for rent anymore. Norton’s walk from the hotel was usually initiated by a stop at the New World Coffee Salon tent, for a meeting with Tom Sawyer. Sawyer had hired two other men he’d known from back east, and they took turns guarding the Genesee storehouse. It was less than two weeks since he’d touched land here, and he already had four employees to worry about. His meetings with Sawyer each morning were strictly routine — there was very little to talk about since Rincon Point was not exactly crime-ridden.

The real crime was over near Norton’s office. The adobe building housing his offices had already been broken into once in the two weeks since the tavern had closed down. The miserly landlord had already started moving pianos into the space, and the only thing that was worth taking that actually could be carried was the old stock of whiskey that had been watered down with Captain Keene’s well-water. The method of theft was more worrisome. One of the thieves had set a fire a couple of blocks away, and burned down a house. While the attention of the neighborhood was on that fire, the thieves had broken into every storefront up and down Jackson to the water.

Every morning, as Norton walked up Montgomery towards the old adobe, he wondered at the way the street seemed to change almost every day. As he crossed California Street, construction on buildings seemed to be happening on every other lot. Closer to California Street they were mostly starting to build in brick, but the vast majority was wooden buildings that had either been shipped in pieces, or rough shacks thrown up out of anything the builder could find. Norton reminded himself to start attending town halls to suggest they set some standards for building so these slapped together cottages would not fall down and kill someone.

It was a Friday, and Norton could tell that the neighborhood was getting ready for the weekend. Behind his office on Pacific Street was where new taverns had opened up, and from his single office window he could see there was a steady pace of horses drawing wagons up Montgomery Street bearing alcohol from the docks. He was always into the office by seven in the morning, beating Mr. Robertson by a good two hours regularly. Following their partnership, Mr. Robertson had moved from his hotel into a space closer to Portsmouth Square. He regularly came in smelling vaguely of alcohol, but this did not bother Norton — as long as he worked well, he did not care what Robertson did in his off hours.

He was in the middle of directing Robertson how to do the weekly bookkeeping when there was a knock on the door. Norton opened it to find his friend Mr. Eastland.

“Eastland! Splendid to see you! What brings you to this neighborhood?” said Norton.

“You,” said Eastland. “I came to extend an invitation to lunch at M and W, with the Alcalde.”

Norton perked up at this. M and W meant Macao and Woosung, the chinese restaurant. He was anxious to try the food, and hobnobbing with city officials was always fruitful.

“Today?” he asked, hopefully.

#

As he walked out of his office at noon, Norton noticed that the muddy fen on the southwest corner of Jackson and Montgomery was turning into a dumping ground for all types of construction debris. He walked up Jackson towards Kearny, and then southeast to Portsmouth Square. In the two weeks he had been here the number of people on the streets seemed to have doubled. There were many more sightings of women, especially as he got closer to Commercial Street and the restaurant. He’d heard about two hundred ladies from Paris arriving on a single boat they had chartered, just in time for Christmas. By his own estimates this would increase the number of women in town three times over. He had also heard that the women were prostitutes, which he wryly thought meant that some people in town would have a merry Christmas indeed.

Portsmouth Square was a beehive of activity. There seemed to be some kind of auction going on near the Alcalde’s office, with the requisite crowd of about a hundred people. There were just as many people clustered around a man speaking on the opposite corner. As Norton passed he overheard some of the speaker’s complaints — he was talking about someone he had known that had been the victim of a murder. The speaker was full of passion and Norton wanted to stop to listen to him, but he had an engagement to meet.

As he approached the restaurant, he saw Eastland and Donohue outside with two other men. One of the unidentified men was talking as Norton walked up.

“I can’t really stay,” he was saying. “I have some parts to make in the shop that the customer asked for expedience on.”

“Is that all you came to say?” asked Peter Donohue. “You could have just not come. Ah, Norton, there you are.” He shifted his attention to Norton.

“Joshua Norton, meet my brothers. Jim and Mike.” said Donohue.

“Joshua Norton, at your service,” said Norton, offering his hand.

“Nice to meet you,” said Jim, who was speaking before. “Sorry I can’t stay, but I do have some work to get done by nightfall.”

“I’ll bring you some food later,” said Mike.

“That thing we got last time,” said Jim. “Ask Norman what it’s called again, I forgot.”

#

They were greeted at the door by a Chinese man who stood about a head under Norton. He was dressed in a traditional black chinese jacket and had a cap of silk on his head with a gold button on it. He smiled as they walked in.

“Welcome to Macao and Woosung, gentlemen,” he said in a voice completely without any trace of an accent.”It is good to see you again, Mr. Donohue.”

“It’s good to see you too, Mr. Ah Sing,” said Donohue. “We’re here for the alcalde’s luncheon.”

“Right this way, gentlemen,” he said. “Big luncheon today. Please, call me Norman.”

They followed Mr. Ah-Sing to a back room with sliding panels for doors. As he opened the sliding doors, the room inside was revealed to have a huge round table at the center. Loaded down with exotic foods that Norton had trouble identifying, it all smelled delicious. Equally loaded down were the chairs. almost 20 chairs were around the table and almost all of them were occupied. Everyone in the room was talking, and Donohue picked out the Alcalde on the far side of the table and moved to where he was. The Alcalde had already noticed them, and waved to Norton and his party as they entered.

“I will check in on you from time to time,” said Mr. Ah-Sing as he backed out of the room while sliding the doors closed.

As Norton looked around, he saw many faces he vaguely recognized. His two weeks in town was already a whirlwind of meeting men in situations such as this. This time was slightly different — he realized that most of the men in the room were his fellow Freemasons. Norton idly wondered if there was a lodge in town already. It did not help that they were all dressed in the same black suits as Norton.

He saw the publisher of the only newspaper in town, which stood to reason. He also saw members of the town council, every person of which he had been introduced to but the only person he could remember was Sam Brannan, a brash and loud man. He saw Brannan talking to a man wearing a Shenandoah beard, upper lip freshly shaved. As he noticed this, the alcalde stood up and started to speak.

“Gentlemen, thank you for coming,” said Geary. “We’re talking about the relative increase in crime in town today. As you all are businessmen here in town, we are open to suggestions on how to deal with it.”

“More policemen!” said someone from around the table.

Norton moved to an open seat and took it. Eastland took the seat next to him.

“We are still trying to figure out the budget for that,” said Brannan.

“Curfews!” said another person.

“And how will we enforce those?” said Geary.

Donohue and his brother found another pair of seats and took those.

“Excuse me,” said Norton. The entire table turned to look at him.

“This is a subject that is dear to my heart,” he started. “As some of you may know, the captain of the ship I arrived in was found dead a few days later, having died on the night we arrived. Nobody saw what happened to him, and it seems suspicious to me. It is my opinion that the problem is that the streets are very dark at night, and this contributes.”

The murmurs around the table seemed positive to Norton.

“Maybe a law stating people have to place a lantern outside their doors,” said someone else at the table.

More positive murmurs.

“This is a good immediate solution, but might I suggest another?” said Norton. “I arrived here from South Africa, Cape Town. A few years ago, that noble town installed gas lighting on the street.”

Donohue spoke up, “I’m in favor of that solution, we have the resources needed to do that.”

Geary looked like he was considering this seriously.

“What about the murder at the Bella Union last night? That didn’t happen on the street.” said the man with the Shenandoah.

“We are endeavoring to get more police officers,” said Geary. “At present, Captain Fallon has 35 officers on his force including himself.”

Norton quickly inhaled at the news. The town he walked through every morning was at least as populous as the Cape Town he had left, and that city’s population stood at twenty thousand at the last count. People were pouring into the city and they were mostly transients headed to the gold fields.

“This isn’t a bad number of police for the population,” said Brannan.

“Yes, but most of those men are corrupt,” said the person who’d talked about the Bella Union.

“Mr. Broderick, we’re well aware of the makeup of the police department,” said Geary. “The sad truth is that the police are a gang just like any other. They are just a gang under our control.”

Mr. Broderick looked at him soberly. “If that’s what you think, you may have some surprises in the future.”

Norton decided he liked Mr. Broderick.

“Well, my position here is only temporary,” said Geary. “California will become a state in the near future, and when it does become one this town will become the largest city in the state. Currently the bylaws drawn up convert my title from alcalde to mayor, and limits me to a year term. I’m trying to get as much done in my time as possible, to give this city a good start in life. We get very few men applying to be police, when the only equipment we can issue them are machetes. Although most have their own preferred weapons.”

“They need to be more visible,” said Brannan. “They don’t even have regular beats drawn up to walk. These men are the most inexpert lawmen I’ve ever seen. Did any of you see any police officers on the way over? They sleep in until noon usually!”

“It’s because most of them are ducks,” said Broderick.

Norton wondered why the men would be ducks.

“What would you have me do, burn down Sydney Town?” asked Geary. This alarmed Norton because from what he understood Sydney Town was two blocks from his office.

“Just don’t hire officers straight out of the Sydney Ducks!” said Broderick. Suddenly Norton clued in on the fact that this must have been a reference to the inhabitants of Sydney Town.

#

“I have a concern,” said Norton, as all eyes turned to him.

“Do go on,” said Mr. Geary.

“Well, as you all may or may not know, my office is at Jackson and Montgomery. Mr. Lick is my landlord.”

Murmurs of approval flitted around the table.

“At any rate, word in the neighborhood is that criminals are setting fires and robbing establishments that guards have abandoned to help fight the fires. Does anyone think a fire department, standing by with a good fire engine, might not be a good idea? So that fire fighting is not strictly the provenance of passersby and good samaritans?”

More murmurs of approval.

“That is a very good point,” said Mr. Geary. “We have a town council meeting set up in January to discuss this very thing.”

Norton felt invigorated that two of his suggestions might be considered seriously. He made a note to keep trying to be forward thinking.

#

As the meeting wound down, Geary brought Mr. Broderick over to introduce him to all the late arrivals. They made their way around the table, finally getting to Norton and Eastwood. Donohue made his way over as well.

“Mr. Norton is a new arrival to our shores, from South Africa,” said Mr. Geary. “We’ve been helping our brother out as much as possible.”

“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Norton,” said Mr. Broderick.

“Likewise,” said Norton. “What is it you do, Mr. Broderick?”

“I’m an assayer,” said Broderick. “I buy and sell gold dust, turn it into coins for general consumption. Do you have a gold coin on you?”

“I only have some of Naglee’s paper money on me at the moment,” said Norton.

“No mind,” said Broderick. “My real goal is public office when California becomes a state. To that end, I’m investing in the infrastructure here in San Francisco.”

This made Eastland and Donohue perk up.

“Well I look forward to seeing more of you, Mr. Broderick,” said Norton. Politicians made him slightly nervous.

“Yes, definitely,” said Eastland, as Broderick and Geary moved to the next person.

Restaurant workers had quietly begun clearing the table of food under the watchful eye of the restaurant owner, and Donohue noticed. He motioned for the owner to come over.

“Do you think you could prepare that dish we had last time we came? you called it ‘chop suey’,” he said to the owner.

Mr. Ah-Sing replied, “You mean shap sui.”

The busboys did not stop working, but they did glance over at Mr. Ah-Sing and one coughed as he averted his eyes from the foreigners.

“That’s it. My brother could not come and requested I bring it to him.”

“To take it with you?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Right away, Mr. Donohue,” said Mr. Ah-Sing.

He walked out, directing a torrent of Chinese at the busboys, a couple of whom laughed despite the serious look on Mr. Ah-Sing’s face.

“Chop suey!” said Donohue. “My new favorite.”

“I wonder what on earth that name means?” pondered Norton.

#

As the men were preparing to leave the luncheon, Geary cornered Norton.

“Mr. Norton, good to see you again. I hope those water lots are coming into good use for you.”

“Splendid, Mr. Geary. It is invaluable to have a place where boats can pull up and unload that is not the central wharf.”

“Indeed it is,” said Mr. Geary. “We are also filling in parts of the harbor near your office as well. I will let you know when they come up for auction.”

“Why thank you, sir. I think it would be great to have lots downtown — I could use a place to sell my cargo that I can get top dollar for it, and a storefront would be perfect on Jackson Street if it could be extended past the point,” said Norton.

Geary looked around for a second conspiratorially, then turned back to Norton.

“How would you like your water lots to be even more valuable?” he asked.

“Just tell me what I have to do,” said Norton.

#

December 24th, 1849

English Jim nodded to his companion, who made sure to splash the turpentine on every available wood surface outside the old adobe. He grinned at the sign that said “ALCALDE’S OFFICE”. Didn’t much matter who the mayor was to him, as long as his friends on the police force let him know when they wouldn’t be watching certain buildings. When they were done with the alcalde’s office, they trotted across the road and began their work on a building labeled “Dennison’s Exchange”. English Jim figured he could come back and pick gold nuggets out of the ashes.

When they were done, he called his companion over. The man took out a pocket watch and checked the time. It was exactly five AM.

English Jim took out a cigar and a match. He struck the match on his bootheel, and lit the cigar with it. When he was finished, he tossed the lit match into a puddle of turpentine on the wooden sidewalk.

The two men walked east and disappeared among the alleyways of Pike Place as the entire block northwest of the square became engulfed in flames. It took less than thirty seconds.

#

Norton awoke to the sound of clanging church bells. As he opened his eyes, he was aware that it was still completely dark. He wondered what could be happening as he hauled himself out of bed. There was a commotion outside.

As he threw back the curtains an unearthly glow filled the room. As he stepped onto the balcony he saw that the glow was coming from Portsmouth Square, less than three blocks away. Then something made a loud bang, and flames shot into the air.

Norton rushed back inside to get dressed and head to see how he could help.

#

English Jim and his companion crept along the dock to the Genesee, trying to see if anyone was on board. Stealthily they moved onto the deck, noticing how unnatural it was for a boat to be steady as a rock.

They moved up to the forward part of the deck, towards a door. English Jim got out a tool kit and knelt to deal with the lock.

As he did so, he heard a noise like swooshing and instantly knew the whistle of a long knife. He dived sideways along with his companion.

He scrambled to get to the side and looked back to see his companion lying on the deck with a widening pool where his head once was. He dived over the side and hit the muddy waist high water with a splash and swam towards the open bay as fast as he could.

On deck, Tom Sawyer buried the bloody machete in a wooden upright and considered the fleeing felon. He looked back at the severed head lying in the waxing moonlight, as one of the other guards came running forward.

“Why didn’t you warn him?” the man asked.

“To send a message,” said Sawyer.

A distant boom caught their attention as they saw a glow coming from Portsmouth Square.

“Stay here,” ordered Sawyer.

“Sure thing, boss,” said the guard.

#

Click here for Chapter Five.

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