Sierra County CA Archives History - Books .....Hanging Of The Spanish Woman 1882
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Book Title: Illustrated History Of Plumas, Lassen & Sierra Counties


HANGING OF THE SPANISH WOMAN.

   This celebrated affair, which gained for Downieville at the time an
unenviable notoriety, has been so much talked and written about since, that
nothing has been left for us to say which has not been already spoken.
Conflicting opinions are held between many who were there, as to whether or not
the citizens were justified in adopting the exceedingly harsh measures resorted
to. The sex of the victim seems to be the only ground for condemning the act in
stronger terms than any other execution done by the people themselves. Had a man
met his fate on the Jersey bridge at Downieville for a similar provocation, his
tragic death would hardly be remembered except by those who actually witnessed
his taking-off, and they would have nothing to say, either in commendation or
disapproval. A sense of chivalry and consideration for the weaker sex, however
fallen—characteristics common to masculinity—awakened in the breasts of many
persons a kind of horror at the idea of inflicting such a terrible punishment on
a young and beautiful woman.

   The Fourth of July, 1851, had been a great day in Downieville. The
anniversary of the birth of our republic had been commemorated with grand
parades, the assemblage of thousands, and with a thrilling address from John B.
Weller, afterwards governor of California. Those addicted to the use of
stimulating beverages—their name was legion—had held high carnival all the
livelong day among the bottles and glasses; and when the somber shades of night
had fallen, many a loud reveler was staggering through the crowded
thoroughfares, awaking the echoes of the surrounding hills with their ribald
song and laughter. Later in the night these jolly spirits became mischievous,
and some of the rougher sort went around breaking open the doors of houses,
among others, attacking the domicile of the ill-fated Juanita, occupied at the
time by herself and a man of her own race. In the crowd was Jack Cannon, a
Scotchman of magnificent physical strength and herculean proportions. When the
hilarious band had broken up, at a very early hour the next morning, Cannon went
back to the Mexican house. His purpose in returning thither is of course
unknown. Many persons say that he intended to apologize, and pay for the damage
done by himself and fellows; but this can be nothing more than a surmise. Mr. V.
C. McMurry, who was probably the only outsider who witnessed the killing of
Cannon, states that he saw Cannon go up to the door of the house, inside of
which were standing the Mexican and the woman Juanita, and heard him address the
latter with the Spanish word for prostitute. She immediately went into a side
room, while Cannon, leaning each hand upon a doorpost, stood directly in the
doorway conversing with the man. In a moment she re-entered the hall, with one
hand held behind her. Coming rapidly to the front, and passing her companion of
the night before, she plunged a long knife with tremendous force into Cannon's
breast. The power required for the stroke must have been considerable, for the
blade penetrated clear through the heavy sternum bone in the center of the
chest, and buried itself in his heart. Though she was a very small, slender
woman of twenty-three years, her intense passion gave her for an instant an
extraordinary strength. Cannon fell dead instantly.

   But a moment was required to spread the news far and wide. Rapidly it sped
from mouth to mouth, and the miners ran in great numbers to the place where
Cannon lay still bleeding and warm. He was a popular fellow with the crowd.
Threats of vengeance came from many a throat, and for safety the woman who had
done the deed left her house hastily, and entered Craycroft's saloon, asking for
protection. Her movement was noticed. A mob surrounded the place, so as to give
her no possible chance of escape. Some one raised the cry, "Hang her!" and the
idea met with an instant general approval. After the lapse of some time, during
which her friends tried to save her, the woman was handed over to the frenzied
crowd, and led into the main plaza, where a stand had been erected for public
speaking the day previous, directly in front of Foster's old cabin. Here she and
her reputed husband were placed to await the issue of their trial. The body of
poor Jack Cannon was placed in a tent near by, that the people might see his
gaping wound, and steel their hearts against a revulsion of feeling.

   A judge and jury were appointed by those present, together with a lawyer for
the "people," and one for the defendant. A young lawyer lately from the states
undertook her defense, and right bravely he denounced the act about to be
committed. He called upon those who had left friends and relatives in the east
to consider what they would say of these proceedings; for the sake of the women
they loved, and the women that bore them, not to shed the blood of this poor
creature. His eloquence was useless. While in the midst of his peroration the
barrel on which he stood was kicked from beneath him, hat going one way and
spectacles another, while he was flung on the heads of the mob below, and
carried a hundred yards before he touched the ground, receiving blows and kicks
from all sides. After taking evidence, the jury retired, but soon returned with
a verdict of guilty. Dr. C. D. Aiken, as a last resort to save the woman,
endeavored to prove that she was enceinte. Drs. Kibbe, Chase, and Carr were
accordingly appointed a committee to make an examination, and reported that the
statement was not true. For his rashness, Dr. Aiken was ordered to leave town in
twenty-four hours, and for quite a period his shadow darkened no door in
Downieville.

   The woman was taken to her cabin, and given one hour to prepare for death,
without a priest. Confronting with an unflinching, steady gaze the angry crowd
surrounding her, she sat the whole time; when, her hour being up, she was called
forth, and passed fearlessly down the street, chatting and smiling with as much
ease as any one there. From the top of the Jersey bridge a rope dangled over the
side, while beneath it a timber six inches wide was lashed to the bridge, and
swung out above the stream. Three thousand excited spectators were present, many
of whom now live to tell the tale. On the plank she stood, quietly surveying the
crowd. Perceiving a friend, she took off her Panama hat, and gracefully flung it
to him, bidding him good by in Spanish. She took the rope in her own hands,
placed it about her neck, and adjusted it beneath her beautiful black hair with
her own fingers. A white handkerchief was thrown over her face, her hands tied
behind her, and at each end of the plank, ax in hand, stood a man ready to cut
the lashings. Another fired a pistol as a signal, and the axes fell. She dropped
three or four feet, meeting death with scarcely a struggle.

   The affair created a great deal of comment at the time, the course of the
miners being almost universally denounced by the press of the country. Even the
London Times of that period had a severe article on the subject. Not long since,
the memory of this event caused Mr. George Barton of Downieville, who witnessed
the hanging, to write some very creditable verses, a few of which we present below:

"They placed her high upon the stand,
   Calmly she sat, no tear, nor frown, 
Nor quivering lip, nor trembling hand
   Shook; but silent, looking down, 
She viewed the scene of hate and strife,
   Heard maddened voices cry aloud 
That she must die, and life for life
   Seemed the watchword of the crowd.

"With hurried forms they held a court,
   The judge elected, jury sworn; 
It seemed but as a mocking sport,
   For she would die before the morn. 
Was there no man dared to defend,
   And help a woman's life to save? 
A stranger tried, a humane friend—
   He sank beneath that angry wave.

"The sun had passed its noonday line,
   The jury from the scene retired, 
And thousands in that solemn time
   Seemed calm, and yet their hearts were fired; 
And pity dwelt in scarce an eye—
   But silence! hear the verdict read: 
The prisoner's GUILTY, and must die—
   Hung by the neck till she is dead.

"And still her face seemed more serene
   Than all that sea of faces there; 
Before she left this earthly scene
   She begged for time to plead in prayer. 
'Twas given—her bosom heaved no sighs,
   Nor fluttering pang, nor bated breath; 
No tear bedimmed her keen, black eyes,
She knelt to pray, not fearing death.

"The sun sank low down in the west,
   And tinged with gold each mountain ridge; 
The crowd closed in and eager pressed
   Onward towards the fatal bridge 
That spanned the rapid mountain stream,
   And thousands darkly lined each shore; 
The noose was dangling from the beam,
   Her dream of life would soon be o'er.

"Gayly she climbed the fatal pile;
   To one she knew, with graceful bend, 
Flung him her hat, and with a smile,
   'ADOIS, AMIGO'—good by, friend; 
And pressed the noose beneath her hair,
   And smoothed it down with steady palms: 
Like making up her toilet there,
   Ere death embraced her in his arms.

"Her face enwrapped and limbs close tied,
   The handkerchief clasped in her hands 
To give the signal ere she died—
   A moment silent thus she stands; 
It dropped—a shot rang on the air,
   The plank fell from beneath her feet, 
A woman's lifeless form was there,
   Her soul had sought the mercy-seat.

"Stern winter brought its angry flood
   That madly rushed towards the sea; 
That bridge went down, and yet the blood
   Stain lingers; it will ever be 
A mark—no matter where the blame—
   To point the finger toward the spot,
When every witness, ay, each name,
   Are unremembered, all forgot."


Additional Comments:
Extracted from:

Illustrated History of Plumas, Lassen & Sierra Counties

San Francisco: Fariss & Smith
(1882)

File at: http://files.usgwarchives.net/ca/sierra/history/1882/illustra/hangingo298ms.txt

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