Canto CCLXXVIII: My Speech About the Treaty of Cahuenga

Gentle cabrones:

Two weeks in a row late! This time, it was technical difficulties — it happens. But here it is, and away we go…

In 2022, I wrote a columna about something I had only heard about once up to that point: Campo de Cahuenga.

Gabriel San Blogman had written about the Studio City park once in his old blog: about how it was the site where the American and Californio forces in the Golden State agreed to the end of fighting for the Mexican-American War in 1847, a full year before the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo. His post stuck with me for two reasons: San Blogman found something worthwhile in what I had assumed was a place of shame, and he solved for me the riddle of what exactly was that old building off the 101 freeway exit to the old KPFK studios that was always closed.

I didn’t assign Campo de Cahuenga any more importance, mostly because those were the days of the Infernal Rag, and the only OC connection to it was that one of the main protagonists there lynched some of the followers of OC’s original bad hombre, Juan Flores (more on the lyncher in a few). Then came my columna, which revealed that the City of Los Angeles was neglecting the Campo, which it owns (the building itself is a replica of the original one). After writing my columna, members of the Campo de Cahuenga Historical Memorial Association reached out to thank me. The following year, they asked if I wanted to be the grand marshal for the annual ceremony marking the signing of the Treaty of Cahuenga.

Very kind! What does a grand marshal do?

Show up, offer some words, and hang around for everything, which would include a reenactment of the signing of the treaty (also known as the Articles of Capitulation).

Cool! I couldn’t do it, but asked them to keep me in consideration for 2025 — which they did. So that’s how I ended up in Studio City last Sunday, for an event I promoted for over a month in this canto and which a few of you bothered to show up for.

With followers like ustedes, who needs haters?

I digress.

It was a bright, warm midday at Campo De Cahuenga Park, and the place was packed with easily 100 people. Tables hosted an array of historical societies from across the San Fernando Valley. People dressed in period garb from 1840s California: tall mantillas for the women, sashes for the men. Worn words along a trail of sort around the original adobe’s foundation told the story of the site, from indigenous days to the present day. Inside were artifacts from the era, along with oil paintings of the two main protagonists of the Treaty de Cahuenga: John C. Frémont and Andrés Pico, who lynched the members of Juan Flores’ gang.

Who treats Mexicans worse than Trump? MEXICANS.

I digress.

The audience sat down in rows of chairs that bordered a gurgling fountain. Former KNBC-TV Channel 4 weatherman Fritz Coleman would be the master of ceremonies (quick aside: between him and Fred Roggin, do ALL former Channel 4 male broadcasters sport weird facial hair after they leave the station?). He directed our attention to the raising of the American and the Pledge of Allegiance by a Boy Scout troop, then the firing (with blanks) of a small howitzer, which wasn’t loud so much as thunderous.

Fritz made a joke about wishing it was aimed at a former boss, and then it was my turn to talk.

HWUT. I thought I would be later, not two minutes into the ceremony. I totally wasn’t prepared. UH OH…

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I found my printed out speech, which I present as it was written, with commentary and the usual caveat that I made a couple of asides that aren’t reflected here:

Gracias for inviting me today. I’m gonna keep my remarks short because who on earth wants to hear from a grand marshal about anything? (laughter from the crowd)

I hope everyone who’s here today tells someone that you know about Campo de Cahuenga and bring them here next year to see what we’re witnessing. At the very least, today means I finally had the opportunity to visit the Campo and answer the question that so many Southern California residents wonder when they get off the 101 on the way to Universal Studios: Is this where the Minions live? (more laughter, although not as much as before)

Sadly, too many of us in Southern California do not know our own history. Part of the problem, of course is that we’re infamous for tearing down the past. That’s actually what happened here with the original adobe, which this building is a replica of — but kudos to the folks who had the foresight 75 years ago to rebuild where history took place.

If you try to explain to most people what happened here in 1847, you’ll probably get puzzled looks. Why celebrate a defeat of the ancestral country of millions of Californians? Why celebrate a conquest made in the name of Manifest Destiny? If you would have told me this history 20 years ago, I would’ve been one of those people and probably thought what’s going on here today to be ridiculous.

But this is why teaching history is so important – what happened in the past is always a great way to teach about the present. What you had here was military conquest by an imperialistic invader. What you had here was a loss by a side that didn’t deserve it. And yet what happened here so long ago is something that’s in sore need today by all of us: respect for a shared future.

The Treaty of Cahuenga was written in English and Spanish, because those were the languages of the land. The Californios knew that they stood no chance against the American military, and yet largely dictated the terms of their capitulation to ensure that they could have the chance to prosper in their new country. The American victors were gracious enough to sign off on the treaty, but also knew that if they were more punitive, they would have to face a formidable force – and if you don’t believe me, let’s all go over to the Dominguez Rancho after this and learn that story. (silence. I then reminded — or disclosed to? — the audience that the Californios kicked the ass of the Americans over near Compton, and said to talk to the booth of the Dominguez Rancho Adobe Museum to learn more. One man offered a good laugh).

What happened to Mexican Americans in the decades to come – racism, segregation, violence, the loss of lands – has nothing to do with what happened here. Those were the machinations and skullduggery of others, of dishonorable people. So I look to the Treaty of Cahuenga and Campo de Cahuenga as a testament to the incomplete promise of what this country offers to all who chose to live here, and their faith in better times.

And isn’t that the American story? We can always be improving on our democracy, and teaching history as it happened as opposed to teaching a history obsessed with winners and losers is always a step forward for us and those who will follow.

Gracias, God bless, and Long Live California y que viva los Estados Unidos Americanos.

I got good applause and stood behind Fritz. One of the Campo people told me I could sit in the front row and watch the rest, so I did. Former L.A. councilmember Paul Krekorian, who represented that area of the San Fernando Valley for 12 or so years, offered some words, then sat down ramrod straight on a bench to the side of the festivities, his hands folded just so on his leg — he looked like Ed Begley, Jr. with bigger hair. Krekorian’s successor, Adrin Nazarian? 45 minutes late.

After some great Spanish and Mexican folkoric dances led by the troupe of Carolina Russek — a multi-generational Californio who joked that she was “related to every” major Spanish-named street in Southern California — the reenactment of the Treaty of Cahuenga commenced. Men dressed as Frémont and Pico read from a script to retell what happened: how the treaty guaranteed that the conquered Californios would immediately get the same rights as American citizens, though not citizenship just yet. How they could leave to Mexico in peace if they didn’t want to become Americans. How both Frémont and Pico, whose forces had battled each other for months, nevertheless admired each other’s effort.

The two signed the Articles of Capitulation, and we all applauded (a nice touch to the acting: Pico offered Frémont his sabre, but Frémont smiled and shook his head no, yet another overture to the #respect of that day). The script then moved on to Frémont receiving a stern lecture from his superiors for giving the Californios such generous terms of surrender, terms that went on to influence the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo. Another round of folkloric dancing, Fritz Coleman left halfway through for reasons known only to him, and then we were told that the Campo would be shut down for a while starting the following for a much-needed refurbishment project that would bring ““historical authenticity with modern inclusivity,” according the the city manager in who spoke.

Someone put a shovel in the hands of Krekorian — who had stopped paying attention long ago and was talking to people in the parking lot along with Nazarian — for a ceremonial groundbreaking ceremony (no ground was actually broken; it was just a photo op). And that was that.

Afterward, I did what a grand marshal is supposed to do: greet people. About seven. I received compliments for my speech and kind words for my columnas. A gentleman offered me a copy of his self-published book detailing all of the historic adobes that remain standing in Southern California. “Do you have Rancho Camulos?” asked the volunteer with the Rancho Camulos Museum in Fillmore that sold me a copy of Ramona. “Of course I do,” the gentleman responded, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.

And…that was it. Only later did one of the organizers suggest I should’ve had a sash.

It happens.

You should definitely check out the Campo de Cahuenga reenactment next year. Be involved in historical societies! I talked to a longtimer, and they admitted earlier reenactments “were too Yankee-fied” and that past board members had not taken kindly to having more Andrés Pico in the present version. I personally thought the reenactment made too much of Frémont being dressed down, and should’ve had more Pico, a fascinating character who went on to serve as a state assemblymember and senator, helped the Union during the Civil War, but lost most of his land holdings because he was a bad gambler (his brother, Pío, was the last Mexican governor of California. They were Afro-Mexicans — telling you Andres was fascinating).

But the people who reenacted the history and held the ceremony came in good faith, with love for the state in all of its wrinkles and hidden stories and especially its people. Campo de Cahuenga was borne out of Manifest Destiny — but that ain’t it today. Besides, you know how I always preach to know your history? These folks LIVE our history — and that’s a beautiful thing.

Gracias again, Campo de Cahuenga Historical Memorial Association, for the invite. Just one historical queja: There were no tacos in Alta California in 1847, at least as we know them today. Where was the pit barbecue and days-long fiesta?

I digress.

**

Enough rambling. This was the semana that was:

IMAGE OF THE WEEK: The legendary taquitos at Cielito Lindo in Olvera Street. NEVER a wrong order with these.

QUOTE OF THE WEEK: “Thou will give me this day a greater benefit that ever any mortal can be able to give me. Pluck up thy spirits, man, and be not afraid to do thine office.” — Thomas More, to his executioner.

LISTENING: “Black, Brown and White,” Big Bill Broonzy. Probably the most prominent mention of Mexicans in a blues song after “They’re Red Hot.” Folk blues are SO cutting, wry and devastating. They need to blast this song at labor rallies.

READING: “The Big Book Of Black Quarterbacks”: Deadspin stopped being relevant loooong ago, but when it was on, it was on. About once a year, I read this story — not just for the history and taut writing, but to remind myself of what ambitious reporting and writing looks like, and to admire the gall of a writer publishing something that no one in that genre can possibly top.

BUY MY NEW CO-BOOK! People’s Guide to Orange County tells an alternative history of OC through the scholarship and reporting of myself, Elaine Lewinnek, and Thuy Vo Dang. There’ll be signings all year — in meanwhile, buy your copy TODAY. And, yes: I’ll autograph it!

Gustavo Events  

March 8, 1 p.m.: I’ll be in conversation with artist Alicia Rojas about her new project, “Poderosas,” which is part oral history, part sculpture and part photo book about the women who help Latino Health Access save lives. Will be at the 18th Street Arts Center, 1639 18th Street, Santa Monica. Event is FREE.

March 13, 7 p.m.: I’m going to moderate a panel for “What Alliances Do We Need in Perilous Times?” on how groups are uniting to rebuild after the Pacific Palisades and Eaton fires. It’ll be held by Zócalo Public Square at ASU California Center Broadway 1111 S. Broadway Los Angeles. Event is FREE, but you gotta RSVP.

March 22, 9 a.m.: Join me and one of my co-authors of A People’s Guide to Orange County as we do a tour of downtown SanTana! Tickets are $20 but completely worth it — buy here.

April 19, 9 a.m.: Join me and one of my co-authors of A People’s Guide to Orange County as we do our first-ever tour of Fullerton! Tickets are $20 but completely worth it — buy here.

Gustavo in the News

“Part 158: The Contradictions of Rick Caruso – Privilege and Power in Los Angeles”: Legendary whistleblower Zachary Ellison mentions me in a story of his.

“Ignorancia para todos I“: A Mexican newspaper shouts out a columna of mine.

“Golfo de México o América: qué país controla la masa de agua en disputa”: El País, Spain’s largest newspaper, shouts out a columna of mine.

““Poderosas” Book Celebration with Alicia Rojas and Gustavo Arellano”: Patch apparently is still a thing, and so Patch wrote about my event next week.

Gustavo Stories 

“Grítale a Guti”: Latest edition of my Tuesday night IG Live free-for-all.

“San Clemente rejects proposal to ban feeding unhoused people”: My latest KCRW “Orange County Line” commentary talks about what’s going on in our southernmost city.

“Maximilian Kolbe: A reporter's best asset”: My latest National Catholic Reporter essay talks about the patron saint of journalists, with a cameo by my compa Russell Contreras. KEY QUOTE: “It’s a subtle way to proclaim my Catholic faith and also a great conversation starter: my badge inevitably flips to reveal my mini-shrine, people notice another guy with glasses, and I’m able to retell Kolbe’s story.”

“100 years ago, Anaheim recalled its KKK city council. Why don’t we remember?”: My latest L.A. Times columna talks about an anniversary that happened on my birthday. KEY QUOTE: “The Klan’s rule in Anaheim is a stain on a place that likes to celebrate the positive, in a county where boosterism is religion. Yet the push to drive out the KKK offers lessons for our political moment.”

You made it this far down? Gracias! Follow me on Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram while you’re down here by clicking on their logos down below. Don’t forget to forward this newsletter to your compadres y comadres! You can’t get me tacos anymore, but you sure as hell can give them — and more — to the O.C. Catholic Worker!