In 1849, the year after gold was discovered at Sutter’s Mill in California, the famous California Gold Rush began. Tens of thousands of people poured in to the territory, newly acquired in the Mexican War. These people were referred to as “49ers”, claiming land all over California, prospecting for gold, sure they would strike it rich. Most of them didn’t, but stayed anyway.
Finding gold wasn’t the only way to strike it rich, of course. The English-born businessman Joshua A. Norton understood this. He came to California in 1849 with $40,000 (which is the equivalent of about $1.2 million today). Instead of gold, Norton decided to strike it rich in rice.
Norton didn’t farm rice, but he bought and sold it: he was a commodities trader, and did pretty well for himself. By 1853, he’d turned his $40,000 into $250,000 (the modern equivalent of $3 million). He saw an opportunity to make really big money during a rice shortage that year and attempted to corner the market. If Norton could take control of all the rice in San Francisco, he could set the price for years to come. The gold would come rolling in, and he wouldn’t even have to get his hands dirty digging it out of the ground. But things didn’t work out so well for Norton. He bought when he should have sold, the price of rice dropped, and he lost everything. Bankrupt and ruined, Norton is said to have headed eastward out of San Francisco on foot and disappeared.
In 1859, Norton returned to San Francisco with news. He headed straight to the offices of the San Francisco Bulletin with a piece of paper in his hand. Norton said it was a royal decree, identifying himself as the unrecognized sovereign of the United States. It was a good story, so the paper ran with it.
Locals ran with it, too. When Norton strolled down the sidewalks of San Francisco on his royal walks, citizens would bow and curtsey to him as he passed. The San Francisco city directory got in on the joke, listing Norton’s occupation as “Emperor”, which is how Joshua A. Norton became Emperor Norton I.
 |
| His Majesty Emperor Norton I of North America and Protector of Mexico in full imperial regalia. |
Emperor Norton I of the United States was his official title for the first few years. His popularity took off with his October 1859 decree that ordered Congress (always a favorite target) to stop meeting, which the local papers were only too happy to promote. Congress kept meeting anyway, so in 1860, he issued another decree (which also got a lot of press) that officially dissolved Congress and replaced all federal power in the United States with one sole monarch: the Emperor. In 1862, when France invaded Mexico, Norton opposed the invasion and made his sympathies clear when he revised his title as Emperor Norton I of the United States and Protector of Mexico.
A sensation was born. Norton became a cherished local celebrity. He didn’t have a palace, but the city of San Francisco furnished him with a modest apartment in a house. He wore an old Navy coat with epaulets, for some class, and a plumed hat, for a regal turn. He wore a sword on his hip. Local restaurants allowed Norton to dine free of charge (as long as he allowed them to note that their establishment bear the imperial seal that read “By appointment of his Majesty, Emperor Norton I”. Theater owners would reserve a seat for him every opening night. When his Navy coat wore out, the Army officers at the Presidio pooled their resources to make him a new uniform. Emperor Norton dolls were sold to tourists, and imperial currency was printed, bearing the Emperor’s visage. The currency was never legal tender, but some establishments would accept it in payment anyway, and these banknotes are valuable collector’s items today.
Emperor Norton was famous for his imperial decrees. Besides dissolving Congress, he was also known for decrees that:
- San Franciscans furnish money for inventor Frederick Marriott’s experimental airships.
- The Democratic and Republican parties be dissolved.
- A suspension bridge be built connecting San Francisco and Oakland.
- Residents abstain from using the abomination “Frisco” when referring to the city of San Francisco.
These last two decrees, at least, seem to have stuck. The bridge to Oakland took a while—it wasn’t completed until 1936. But the nickname “Frisco” never caught on, despite its common use in Norton’s day. Some credit Norton with this, but it’s hard to say how much he influenced that trend.
On January 8, 1880, while walking to a lecture at the Academy of Natural Sciences, Norton dropped dead in the street. The city was crestfallen, and there was no question of there being a grand funeral at taxpayers’ expense. 10,000 people turned out for the funeral, joining in a parade two miles long. San Franciscans still to this day cherish Emperor Norton I. But Congress doesn’t—they still have their meetings.
Comments