After a Closer Look, Mexican General was Simply Human

History, they say, is written by the victors. And victors always
give a generously glowing slant to their record of past events.
You can see this tendency in the epic confrontation between
Captain John C. Fremont and Mexican General Jose Antonio Castro.
Their conflict came to a South Valley climax 160 years ago today on
March 10, 1846.
History, they say, is written by the victors. And victors always give a generously glowing slant to their record of past events.

You can see this tendency in the epic confrontation between Captain John C. Fremont and Mexican General Jose Antonio Castro. Their conflict came to a South Valley climax 160 years ago today on March 10, 1846.

When I was a kid growing up in Hollister, I developed an image of Fremont as the hero who trekked overland to bring American civilization and democracy to California.

The American explorer must have stood a giant, I believed. After all, they named Hollister’s Fremont Elementary School after him – and also Fremont Peak, the highest point in the Gabilan range. And the booming Bay Area city of Fremont honors “the Great Pathfinder’s” name, too.

On the other hand, General Castro, in my youngster’s mind, was surely a scoundrel. Take a look at his portrait sometime. He wears a short-cropped mustache like a smarmy villain in a melodrama.

Well, it turns out the real story of these two complex characters of early California is a lot more intriguing. I learned that lesson this week when I visited the Castro-Breen Adobe in San Juan Bautista for a sneak peek of the historic home, re-opening Saturday after a $1.6 million safety renovation.

As part of the makeover, historians modernized the adobe’s downstairs by installing interactive exhibits showing visitors how the Castro and Breen families lived. And in conversations with Bob Picha and Joe McMahon, Castro decedents who live in Hollister, I began to see a vastly different perspective of the Mexican general who once owned the home.

General Castro was the grandson of Joaquín Isidro de Castro, who arrived in this region with the de Anza expedition in 1776. He was born toward the end of the Spanish colonization period of California.

In 1821, Mexico took over the governing of California. Unfortunately, unscrupulous officials did a poor job of administrating the huge territory. Over time, California’s Hispanic population, living far from Mexico City, developed their own dynamic culture and character. They began calling themselves “Californios” and grew increasingly independence-minded.

Castro was one of the most ambitious of the Californios. His father, Jose Tiburcio Castro, had grown rich during the Mexican secularization of the mission lands, receiving thousands of acres surrounding San Juan Bautista.

The decade leading up to California’s Bear Flag Revolt was a tumultuous one – and Castro was in the thick of it. Leadership stood on shaky ground. From Nov. 5 to Dec. 7, 1836, Castro headed a short-lived counter government to the Mexican Governor Alvarado.

In 1838, Castro was cleared of treason charges and made the military commander of the northern district of Alta California. That year, his father built him an adobe located on a corner of San Juan Bautista’s mission plaza. Castro received it as a wedding present. The general turned the generous gift into his military headquarters.

When he wasn’t traveling extensively on military business, Castro lived primarily in Monterey. But he and his growing family enjoyed escaping the coast’s dreary fog by spending idyllic summer days in San Juan Bautista.

Over the period of the 1840s, increasing numbers of American settlers journeyed overland to California. The Americans became a huge headache for Castro.

They threatened Mexico’s sovereignty. Attracted by a Promised Land of sunshine and fertile fields, some terrorized the Californio inhabitants off their ranches with their guns. As tension mounted, the Mexican general was forced to spend less and less time at his beloved San Juan Bautista adobe residence.

The United States government also had a lust for California land – particularly Thomas Hart Benton, a powerful senator who held an evangelist’s belief in the doctrine of Manifest Destiny. The senator preached that God destined America to stretch from sea to shining sea.

Benton’s daughter married Captain Fremont – and Fremont shared the faith of his father-in-law. In 1846, the captain and 60 U.S. Army “surveyors” began scouting California. Strangely, they brought no survey equipment. But they were well-armed with the latest in military weapons.

General Castro gave Fremont permission to explore the topography of California’s Central Valley. But Fremont chose instead to roam the coastal region – spying on the Mexico’s presidios in Yerba Buena (modern day San Francisco) and Monterey.

Doing his job of protecting California from foreign invaders, Castro ordered his soldiers to pursue the Americans. Fremont saw himself as a piece on California’s chessboard.

In early March 1846, Fremont and his men “captured” Gabilan Peak, the highest point of the Gabilan range. Here, he raised the American flag in defiance of Mexico’s – and Castro’s – authority.

For three days, Castro and Fremont exchanged heated communication. Fremont refused to budge until the evening of March 9, when the sapling holding the American flag blew down. Taking it as “an omen,” Fremont left the peak the next morning to cross over Pacheco Pass.

Battle was averted.

Despite being somewhat arrogant, General Castro’s personality had its softer side. From a mission padre, he heard about a family of destitute Irish immigrants who survived the Donner Party tragedy. In 1848, Castro offered Patrick and Margaret Breen and their children the free use of his adobe home on the mission plaza.

The history books have given Fremont the glory. Fremont wrote extensive memoirs of his adventures in the west. He painted himself as a hero adventurer.

Unfortunately, Castro’s portrait is a sadder one. After the United State’s conquest of California, the former Californio faced growing financial pressures as he lost land to American settlers. His status gone, he left his family in Monterey and sailed to Baja California to serve Mexico as a military commander there. In 1860, he was assassinated.

Both Fremont and Castro had personality flaws. They both had huge egos and aspired toward power. But from the exhibits at the newly renovated Castro-Breen Adobe, you can see that General Jose Antonio Castro wasn’t the villain the victors made him into in their history of early California. He was human.