America’s Only Emperor
The United States of America has only experienced one Emperor. He was known as Emperor Norton and his royal reign did not expand much beyond San Francisco. America’s only emperor was born in England as Joshua Abraham Norton, probably in 1818 and he arrived in the United States at San Francisco in 1849. After declaring himself emperor, his reign lasted 21 years until his death in 1880, when over 10,000 attended his funeral procession.
Norton arrived in San Francisco, just as the 49er gold rush was reaching full bloom. He arrived with 40,000 dollars from his father’s estates in South America, invested wisely and was soon one of the richest men in a suddenly wealthy town. In 1852 a famine in China created a global rice shortage. Rice prices in San Francisco rose over 900%. Norton bought an entire shipload of Peruvian price at 12 cents a pound, signing a contract to buy future shiploads at the same price. Within days several other ships transporting Peruvian rice showed up unexpectedly in San Francisco, glutting the market and dropping the price to 3 cents a pound. Lawsuits followed but by the time the whole thing was resolved in 1855 Norton was bankrupted. He went bonkers shortly after.
Norton reemerged into public life in 1859 when he declared himself “Emperor of these United States.” His manifesto was published in the San Francisco Daily Evening Bulletin. “At the peremptory request and desire of a large majority of the citizens of these United States, I, Joshua Norton, formerly of Algoa Bay, Cape of Good Hope, and now for the last 9 years and 10 months past of San Francisco, California, declare and proclaim myself Emperor of these United States; and in virtue of the authority thereby in me vested, do hereby order and direct the representatives of the different States of the Union to assemble in Musical Hall, of this city, on the 1st day of February next, then and there to make such alterations in the existing laws of the Union as may ameliorate the evils under which the country is laboring, and thereby cause confidence to exist, both at home and abroad, in our stability and integrity.”
The emperor dressed with a regal dignity befitting his status. He wore a military uniform with gold epaulets, sword, and beaver hat with an ostrich feather. When Norton’s elaborate military uniforms became threadbare, funds would be raised to make him another. Tailors who had donated time and material for the emperor’s new clothes would put signs in their windows proudly proclaiming, “By appointment to his royal majesty.” He would awaken every morning, and head to the library to read the newspapers. Then Emperor Norton would patrol the streets often carrying a cane or brightly colored Chinese umbrella. During his inspections, he would examine the condition of the sidewalks and cable cars, the state of repair of public property, and the appearance of police officers. He would often offer long philosophical insights to anyone who would listen. Whenever celebrities and dignitaries visited San Francisco they dined with the emperor.
The local newspapers gave daily updates on the Emperor’s activities. The newspapers of San Francisco at that time had a playful streak. Not only were readers kept informed of emperor news, but the local papers also made celebrities of two stray dogs known as Bummer and Lazarus. Like the emperor, the activities of Bummer and Lazarus were the daily fodder of the gossip page. The San Francisco City council voted that Bummer and Lazarus were exempt from the city’s stray dog laws. As if to show their gratitude, one week later the two canines stopped a runaway team of horses pulling a wagon. Lazarus passed away never to rise again, followed by the death of Bummer in 1865. Through the wonders of taxidermy the two dogs were reunited and were put on display in local saloons and museums for the next 40 years until the great San Francisco earthquake of 1906 when the stuffed two dogs disappeared.
All three local celebrities ate for free in many of San Francisco’s restaurants. Because they often attended the same eateries, the emperor was often seen feeding the mongrel dogs from his table. Rumors spread that Emperor Norton was the owner of Bummer and Lazarus, charges which Norton denied, stating that the dogs were their own free spirits. There were other rumors too, such as the notion that Norton was the illegitimate son of Napoleon. Sometimes it is hard to tell where history ends, and legend begins in the story of America’s first emperor.
When the Civil War erupted, the Emperor Norton issued royal decrees firing both Jefferson Davis and Abraham Lincoln from their jobs as president of their respective unions. He walked the streets of San Francisco, alternating between Union and Confederate uniforms to let people know that he was not taking sides in what he considered to be an unnecessary and destructive war. In his role as emperor, Norton was a prodigious letter writer. He wrote letters to the pope and the heads of Protestant denominations asking them to denounce the United States government and declare his own sovereignty as heavenly ordained. He wrote other emperors, such as those of Brazil and Russia. He wrote dozens of letters to Queen Victoria proposing marriage. The queen never responded.
There was a lot of debate about whether Norton had gone mad or was cleverly using his celebrity status to avoid his impoverished financial status. The notion was put to the test when an officer named Barbier arrested him in 1867 and charged him with insanity. The local populace was outraged. The arrest sparked scathing editorials in the newspapers, The Daily Alta wrote “that he had shed no blood; robbed no one; and despoiled no country; which is more than can be said of his fellows in that line.” The judge dismissed the inquiry into the Emperor’s sanity, remarking that Norton was “just about the best going in the king line.” The chief of police Crowley ordered Norton released and issued a formal apology. Norton granted an Imperial Pardon to Barbier. Police officers of San Francisco thereafter saluted him as he passed in the street. The 1870 U.S. census lists Joshua Norton as 50 years old and residing at 624 Commercial Street, and his occupation is listed as “Emperor”. It also notes that he was insane
In the 1860s and 70s a series of anti-immigrant, anti-Chinese rallies took place. These demonstrations often ended up in violence. The Emperor Norton often stood boxes and crates, addressed the audience, and denounced these gatherings. Late one night, after the emperor had spent the afternoon and early evening playing chess in the local library, he came across a lynch mob. The mob had captured a stray Chinaman, had him tied and shackled, and were preparing to string up the poor unfortunate human being from the nearest tree. The Emperor Norton strode purposefully into the street and confronted the mob. As their emperor he commanded that they cease and desist, releasing their prisoner immediately. The lynch mob listened to the preposterously dressed crazy man and laughed out loud. The mob marched past him, prisoner in tow. They tied a noose around their unfortunate victim’s neck and were stringing it over the low hanging branch of a tall tree when Emperor Norton dropped to his knees and began to pray. Emperor Norton began to pray for the souls of members of the lynch mob. The emperor was personally acquainted with several members of the mob and as he prayed, he mentioned them by name, praying to forgive them for the heinous crime they were about to commit. Ashamed, individual members of the mob gradually slunk away as the emperor mentioned them by name while invoking the Lord. One by one the men left the lynching until the mob had melted away. Their intended victim removed the noose from his neck and scampered off to whatever sanctuary he could find.
In January of 1880 Emperor Norton collapsed on the corner of busy city streets and passed away before medical help could arrive. A crowd soon gathered at the funeral parlor holding his body. According to the San Francicsco Chronicle, over 10,000 attended the funeral procession, representing all classes of society, “capitalist to pauper, clergyman, pickpocket, well dressed ladies and social outcasts, the aged and children.” “He is dead,” mourned the Morning Call, “and no citizen of San Francisco could have been taken away who would be more generally missed.”
