The "discovery" of the Philippines by the U.S. Press, 1898-1902
Another article rescued from Google cached.
The Historian, Winter, 1994 by Christopher A. Vaughan
The United States' takeover of the Philippines was as much a product of circumstance as the result of deliberate policy With few commercial interests in the Spanish-ruled archipelago in the late nineteenth century, the U.S. presence there was modest and even declined as disputes over Cuba escalated. In May 1898, when Commodore George Dewey's naval forces routed the outdated Spanish defenses at Manila Bay in the first major victory of the Spanish-American War, the battle occurred far from U.S. shores, in a land unknown to most Americans. The U.S. public's initial image of the Philippines thus came from military and government sources, who strove to portray U.S. actions in a positive light. The officials' propaganda mission was complicated, however, when the Filipinos launched a revolution against Spain and gained control of most of the archipelago. The Filipinos' status as allies of the United States against Spain quickly eroded when their leaders made it clear that they intended to proclaim an independent republic.
Although the Filipinos resisted U.S. colonization through articulate manifestos and political organization, the debate over the Philippines intensified only after its citizens showed armed opposition to U.S. forces. By then, two philosophical camps had developed among the U.S. public. Anti-Imperialists launched a rhetorical crusade against empire, although for very different reasons: some invoked moral law against those who sought to deny Filipinos their freedom, while others primarily feared that Filipinos would pollute the nation's gene pool. Expansionists, on the other hand, varied from all-out imperialists to those who advocated exercising economic control while leaving government functions to the natives. Throughout 1898, as the United States debated what should be done with the Philippines, the U.S. public assumed that Filipinos were not active agents in determining their own fate. Ultimately, with the 1899 Treaty of Paris the United States government took control of the Philippines and answered Rudyard Kipling's call to take up "the white man's burden."
This article examines U.S. press views of the Philippines from 1898 to 1902. The press was an emerging force around the turn of the century, as the number of publications soared to unprecedented heights. Although much has been written about the anti-imperialist press of the era, this study tracks a broader selection of publications. These include the Literary Digest, which collected press views of the Philippines and related issues; magazines that appealed to different readerships, such as Munsey's Magazine for the masses, and Harper's New Monthly Magazine and the Nation for the educated elite; and newspapers from different regions and points on the political spectrum--primarily the Chicago Tribune, Atlanta Constitution, and San Francisco Chronicle. Although these magazines and newspapers receive the most intense scrutiny, others were sampled for coverage of significant events and periods. Although U.S. readers obtained widely varying views of the Philippines depending on their locale and reading habits, there was a remarkable degree of thematic similarity in the press, discussion of the Philippines and its people.
One prevalent theme sought to define the roles of Filipinos and their new colonial masters through a metaphorical power relationship. To explain the "unfortunate misunderstanding between American and Filipino," one author began an article in the popular Munsey's Magazine with an allegory about a man, a boy, and an apple. When the man sees the fruit just out of the boy's reach, he first gives the youth a boost, but then decides to grab the fruit for himself. When the boy fights for the apple, he gets only a spanking for his trouble. "From the Filipino point of view," the author wrote, "that is about the situation of Aguinaldo and his followers with reference to the Americans. They actually thought ... that they would be able to maintain their own independence."(1)
Although the Filipinos probably did not share the author's view of them as children, his parable accurately depicted the power relationship between General Emilio Aguinaldo's revolutionary forces and those of the United States. The insurgents had captured most of the sprawling archipelago from Spain, but they were no match for the weapons and experience of the occupying army. The story of the boy and the apple contained the seed of condescension from which justifications for colonization would grow. Since the industrializing United States sought affirmation of its new status as a mature world power, there was a dangerous appeal in the notion that Filipinos were powerless children in need of paternal discipline.
In portraying the new "Other," newspapers and magazines presented a narrow spectrum of images that included neither news of actual Filipinos, nor their opinions about Spain, the United States, and their own leaders. In fact, U.S. readers were often discouraged from considering that Filipinos were capable of forming such opinions. In its first full-length report on the country, even the reliably liberal Nation described Filipinos as "big children, who must be treated as little ones." Even though the Filipinos' manufacturing and university education predated the first English settlements in North America, and they had staged the first Asian nationalist revolution against a European colonial power, they were deprived of an audible voice in the U.S. public's discourse on the colonization of the Philippines.(2)
The characterization of Filipinos as children might have seemed logical since they were smaller in stature than North Americans, but cartoons of the time show that actual physical size was unimportant in U.S. images of foreign peoples. Hawaiians and Cubans were routinely represented by the same tiny "pickaninny" images that depicted Puerto Ricans and Filipinos. These images also bore strong resemblance to the racist images used to demean African Americans both during and after slavery. Foreign "others" were grouped together with a subjugated race, and the Uncle Sam who towered over them represented the armed might of the United States, a warning to those who would resist and a comforting reassurance to white Americans.
Some cartoons blatantly portrayed other races as less than human: Filipinos were frequently depicted as dogs, bumblebees, and monkeys. Although race-baiting was common at the turn of the century amid lingering hatred over Indian wars, increased lynchings of blacks, and discrimination against foreign immigrants, some publications were reticent to assess the Other on the basis of race. This problem may have contributed to the popularity of the child image. By impugning the intellectual and emotional development of the Other, the press implied that foreigners of other races could some day become every bit as human as Europeans and Americans. The term "civilization" became another popular stand-in for racial difference. The publisher of the low-cost, large-circulation Munsey's Magazine used a "scale of civilization" to locate "lower" groups for his readers; he described the Malays of the Philippines as "by no means savages, though their place on the scale of civilization is far from high."(3)
In most published accounts, race was not limited to bloodlines, but embraced culture and environment, climate and terrain. "Today the torrid zone is a belt of semibarbarism," declared the Indianapolis Journal. "Its inhabitants resist the civilization of the temperate zones instinctively, because they know they have not the mental and moral fiber to uphold it.... Climate and costless sustenance have made these people what they are, and no great intellectual and industrial advance can be expected until the conditions are changed."(4)
By placing Filipinos in the realm of nature and thus outside the industrialized world of the United States, writers frequently compared the new Other to the Native American. The Watchman, a Baptist newspaper in Chicago, warned that the United States, having failed to effectively govern American Indians, faced difficulty with "a population having many of the same characteristics of our red men." Although cartoons often depicted Filipinos as black-skinned, writers clearly preferred Indian references. One professor at the University of Michigan, a veteran of two scientific expeditions to the Philippines, found a model to include both groups: "The Indians themselves are in a state of pupilage, with no experience in self-government, and are in no situation to become citizens, less so than were the Africans in the South after the Civil War."(5)
Initial reports on the islands offered scrupulous detail about the race types inhabiting them. A doctor who had lived in the Philippines from 1892 until 1896, when the first, failed revolution against the Spaniards broke out, provided readers of the Atlanta Constitution with a summary of the racial makeup of Manila: two-thirds "pure natives," 16.25 percent Chinese half-breeds, 13.39 percent Chinese, 1.65 percent Spanish mestizos and a scattering of foreigners. Such reports filled an information vacuum, since no U.S. correspondents were stationed in Manila at first, and the dispatches of British reporters in Hong Kong were of limited value. Banner headlines and articles chronicling Dewey's triumph in Manila Bay aroused interest in the unknown country, but the few reporters there were largely confined to the fleet and could provide few details. While Dewey awaited reinforcements, U.S. periodicals rehashed the triumph of U.S. naval technology and provided detailed recountings of the battle of Manila Bay.(6)
In the meantime, Dewey agreed to restore Aguinaldo from his exile on a U.S. ship, provided the insurgent leader pledged not to take Manila before U.S. troops, mostly untrained volunteers, arrived from San Francisco. Aguinaldo skillfully made a case for Philippine independence. Having defeated the Spanish in the countryside, the insurgents formed a government and declared the independent Republic of the Philippines. But the Filipinos' aspirations were irrelevant to U.S. editors. A brief item in the San Francisco Chronicle, reporting Aguinaldo's plans to take control, then declare independence and turn the country over to an elected assembly, was buried on page eight and headlined in small print, "Aguinaldo Plans to Become Dictator." Aguinaldo's plans drew no comment from U.S. officials.(7)
The McKinley administration, stung by criticism of its indirection and unpreparedness, offered few dues about its plans for the Philippines. As events outpaced explanations in the early months of the conflict, newspapers and magazines never considered that the Filipinos might assert and defend their own sovereignty. Instead, articles emphasized the possible benefits the islands and their inhabitants would have for the United States. Frequent comparisons of the indolence of the Malays with the thrift and drive of the minority Chinese show U.S. journalists' interest in the population's labor potential. Some articles revealed capitalist interests bluntly, if contradictorily: the Nation wrote that the Tagal people were "the most tractable of beings and the most useful, being able to turn [their] hand[s] to anything," but reported in the next paragraph that "the natives ... are incapable of organization on any scale."(8)
Other U.S. publications revealed a consistent interest in material matters. For example, Munsey's devoted considerable space in its first Philippines features to descriptions of street scenes and sketches of Manila's buildings. A seventeen-page history of the Philippines in Harper's took readers from Magellan's landing at Cebu in 1521 to the Spanish-American War without once referring to a Filipino. (There was, however, a sketch of Aguinaldo's home--a thatch-roofed structure behind a ragged fence.) The subjects of the ideological tug-of-war eventually received attention, but of dehumanizing nature. One magazine gave anatomical descriptions including torso, limb, and cranial analyses. In his definitive feature, "The Filipinos," Edwin Wildman, brother of the U.S. consul in Hong Kong and a popular early journalist on the Philippines, described his subjects as "picturesque." He praised the "good necks and shoulders" of Filipinas, and described the "national sport" of bathing in the river as "one which in interest for the observer outclasses golf and polo."(9)
Wildman optimistically concluded, "There is good material in our new found friend the Filipino.... It is inconceivable that he will decide to be our enemy." The question of whether to give the Filipinos their independence provoked extensive debate about their intellectual and moral capacities. Dewey spoke in defense of the natives' abilities: "In my opinion, these people are far superior in their intelligence and more capable of self-government than the natives of Cuba, and I am familiar with both races." A merchant remarked to the New York Sun how "strange" it was that "such an easy, slumbering, happy-go-lucky race ... should have such turbulent politics." He added that no one in the Philippines except the Japanese had "the least idea of how to make machinery do the work of man."(10)
Such odd insights accumulated as U.S. writers published new accounts of the curious race who were to become their "little brown brothers." In July 1898 Literary Digest attempted to debunk the "misleading" notion that "Malays are wild men." The American Monthly Review of Reviews issued backhanded compliments: "However lacking in intelligence the natives of the Philippines generally may be, they could not in truth be characterized as savages.... The islands' leading tribe, the Tagals are as industrious as the Chinese and Japanese, and more easily controlled and less annually disposed than the latter." While they dearly perceived Filipinos as inferior, publications showered praise on the natives' hospitality and devotion to family life: "Orderly children, respected parents, women subject but not oppressed, men ruling but not despotic, reverence with kindness, obedience in affection." The editors of the Digest concluded that "these simple, orderly people ... ought to be very happy under the enlightened rule of a European power."(11)
That fate was not what Filipino leaders had in mind. Appeals for Philippine independence began to appear in the U.S. press via Hong Kong, where Aguinaldo enjoyed favorable press coverage. Couched in the language of the Declaration of Independence, the appeals targeted world and U.S. public opinion and heightened tension between the insurgents and the occupying forces as fresh U.S. troops neared the island. When the Filipinos hinted that they would complete their conquest of the island by seizing Manila, the "impudence" of the "subject race" drew a flood of criticism. The San Francisco Chronicle editorialized that any disruption of U.S. control was unthinkable: "It is against the interests of the United States to have the fruits of Dewey's victory gathered by insurgents.... No native dictatorship or so-called republic is wanted until the United States fixes on its Philippine policy When a flag replaces the blood-and-fear ensign of Spain, it should be our flag. Afterward there will be enough time to discuss native problems."(12)
Many in the U.S. Army had fought against the Indians and brought racial prejudices to their contact with the Philippine natives. When U.S. troops arrived, violence quickly ensued, with horrific results for the Filipinos. The Igorot mountain-dwellers, armed only with bows and arrows, bore the brunt of the first dash with U.S. forces, in which more than 4,000 Filipinos were killed. The New York Sun insisted that Filipinos had provoked the fatal incident: "The fighting ... was precipitated by ... two native soldiers who refused to obey the order of a sentry who challenged their passage to his post.... They insolently refused to [halt] and continued to advance," so the sentry shot them. The U.S. troops were "expecting trouble," the New York Herald reported, and were "glad to have an opportunity to square accounts with the natives, whose insolence of late was becoming intolerable." The Chicago Times-Herald, a journal close to the McKinley administration, opined, "The slaughter at Manila was necessary, but not glorious. The entire American population justifies the conduct of its army at Manila because only by a crushing repulse of the Filipinos could our position be made secure.... We are ... the trustees of civilization and peace throughout the islands." The conservative journal concluded that the "white man's burden" had been thrust on the United States by "the impotent oppression of Spain and the semi-barbarous conduct of the Philippines."(13)
The burden was usually portrayed as a duty which the United States could not shirk. A Harper's essayist declared that "our continental optimism is vigorous enough to cross oceans and ignore racial boundaries . . . . The press of the Country has not refrained from pointing out that as a people we are equal to any demands that may be put on us." Another author drew unfavorable comparisons between the Spanish record in the Philippines and "the advance of the Anglo-Saxon race in Australia," implying that Spain's failure to import convicts and drive the aboriginal inhabitants to near-extinction was a tactical blunder. When the president of the National Association of Chiefs of Police proposed turning the Philippines into a U.S. penal colony, the Chicago Tribune approved of the plan. A survey revealed that a majority of law enforcement officials opposed the idea, but the Tribune concluded that "when such a man aS William A. Pinkerton favors a proposition ... it must be seen that there is something in it." The press' assumption that such a plan could be carried out reveals the United States, confidence that it could have its way in the Philippines. Only one of the law enforcement officials polled questioned the plan's feasibility by asking, "What are you going to do with the 8,000,000 people now on the islands?"(14)
When the resistance of the Filipinos to U.S. colonialism became more determined, some publications responded with outright endorsements of slaughter. The Detroit News noted and approved of the transformation the Filipinos had undergone in U.S. eyes: "The patriots of a year ago have become savages to be treated after the manner of savages . . . more power to the Krag-Jorgensen rifle that does the treating." The editors of New York's Evening Post admitted to "queer and unpleasant sensations" over the massacre of the arrow-shooting Igorots, but asserted that "our troops had to cut them down like wild beasts."(15)
As public consensus developed, editorial writers warmed to the subject. The Salt Lake City Tribune declared that "the struggle must continue until the misguided creatures there shall have had their eyes bathed in enough blood to cause their visions to be cleared." San Francisco's Call agreed, but warned that punitive measures, while "very effective in civilized countries . . . are considerably less so governing semi-barbarians in the tropics." The Call urged officials to "humor" the insurgents.(16) The rapid descent of the Filipino reputation in the United States was evident in cartoon images that portrayed Aguinaldo as a petty tyrant, a bandit, a midget, and a monkey The Washington Star, calling Filipinos "treacherous, arrogant, stupid and vindictive," found them "impervious to gratitude" and "incapable of recognizing obligations." "Centuries of barbarism have made them cunning and dishonest," the Star reasoned. "We cannot safely treat them as equals, for the simple and sufficient reason that they could not understand it. They do not know the meaning of justice and good faith. They do not know the difference between liberty and license.... These Filipinos must be taught obedience and be forced to observe, even if they cannot comprehend, the practices of civilization." The Press, a Republican newspaper in New York, criticized U.S. negotiators who tried to end the costly war for conceding the humanity of the enemy: "The trouble is not what they propose, but to whom they propose it. They have treated, as a government capable of negotiation, a bedizened ragtag and bobtail.... The deference with which these people have been received, the long conferences in which their "views" have been seriously entertained and discussed, the grandeur in which they have been allowed to parade before their compatriots--all these have inflated their simian vanity."(17)
Filipino resistance to colonization united whites in nationalist and racist opposition to the foreign Other, especially in the U.S. South, where national honor was closely linked to racial pride. Although the Atlanta Constitution criticized the Republicans' imperial ambitions, the paper nonetheless urged resolute opposition to the Filipinos' demands: "We cannot retreat under fire. It is opposed to the Anglo-Saxon spirit.... It would not be tolerated by our own people." The shattering of the myth of white superiority could also have serious domestic repercussions. A Constitution editorial declared, "There is a colored problem in the United States; it is built up on the mistaken attitude of the weaker race.... History teaches us that the colored races cannot stand up in competition with the white race and live."(18)
Some anti-expansion publications, however, used racial difference to put advocates of empire on the defensive. The Baltimore Sun summoned analogies to slavery by comparing President McKinley to Simon Legree. The Filipinos, however, were no powerless plantation slaves. After absorbing the terrible loss in Manila, Aguinaldo's forces wore down the U.S. Army with guerrilla attacks from mountain redoubts. Newspaper reports of stunning Filipino victories alternated with U.S. claims that the war was over. As the army's credibility eroded, the stock of the Filipinos rose. Editors of the Leader, a Republican paper in Cleveland, praised the "courage and natural prowess of the Filipinos" and remarked that "few natives of semi-civilized or savage countries would have stood their ground so well." The guerrillas actually employed hit-and-run maneuvers, but to Americans steeped in the lore of seizing and controlling territory, "standing one's ground" was a high compliment.(19)
Pride in the U.S. capacity for organized violence began to give way to frustration over the drawn-out fight for the Philippines. U.S. troops complained that the Filipinos' Mauser rifles gave them greater range than U.S.-made Springfields. Unfamiliar with the terrain, ill-equipped to deal with the pervasive humidity, and unsure of who among the population could be trusted, U.S. soldiers made little headway.(20)
The mountain-based guerrillas came increasingly to represent all Filipinos in U.S. reports. When they began to attack property, the guerrillas underwent another transformation, from soldiers to bandits. "Where the Filipinos have destroyed millions of dollars worth of property, our soldiers have saved many millions of dollars worth, besides many lives, by fighting the fires set by the direction of the Filipino army," Munsey's Magazine reported. Things were not what they seemed in the Philippines, the magazine contended; native duplicity had turned the war on its head. "When a Filipino hoists the white flag, the recognized token of surrender, very likely he is endeavoring to lead our men into a trap." Yet, reports of atrocities by U.S. soldiers trickled home in spite of the army censor. As protests against the seemingly endless conflict increased, Massachusetts Democrats called the Philippine conflict a "war of aggression."(21)
For every report of U.S. atrocities, however, there was a feature about the hardships of war or the cruelty of the enemy In The Sunny South, a special Sunday section of the Atlanta Constitution, one soldier told how an enemy had cut a medallion and cross from a dead American's neck chain: "That medallion contained the pictures of Schenck's wife and baby. He had been married just before he went to the Philippines and he had never seen his little baby, whose picture was on the medallion." Stories of Filipino soldiers throwing babies into water to drown, or stripping, branding, and burning their own women alive for failing to give them money, shared space with a detailed account of a successful water torture administered by U.S. troops looking for a guerrilla arms cache. Newspapers printed disclaimers that "the majority" of the reports of torture and other abuses by U.S. soldiers were untrue; one correspondent even attempted to justify abuses by citing the uncivilized environment.(22)
Some commentators saw no need for excuses. "Questions of conscience need not trouble us," wrote the influential Worthington C. Ford in Harper's. "Here are rich lands, held by those who do not or cannot get the best out of them, and awaiting the fructifying application of capital and organization in commerce. Under this beneficent view the natives, an inferior race, must get out or become laborers." Ford argued that no justification was necessary in the amoral world of commerce: "The Filipino is an incumbrance to be got rid of, unless he accepts the mandates of a purchasing and a conquering power."(23)
Hundreds of thousands of Filipinos were "gotten rid of" by the time hostilities ended, but eight million had been "acquired." News interest in the Philippines diminished by the time most of the islands had been pacified, but the press cooperated fully in the public relations repair work. Congressional hearings were held to investigate reports of U.S. atrocities--reports often brought to light in soldiers' letters published in hometown newspapers--and the tone of articles about the Philippines became markedly softer. While short military dispatches chronicling the bloody "pacification" of the Islamic southern islands continued to dot the back pages of newspapers in 1903, feature stories shifted readers' attention to the "benevolent assimilation" McKinley had promised. Articles about a Filipino college student in the United States and Igorot children learning to read replaced the daily tales of killing. As the Filipino image shifted from bandit to bambino, editorials like the San Francisco Chronicle's "Our Compatriots, the Filipinos" plotted a new rhetorical course. The paper echoed the U.S. commander in the islands by calling Filipinos "the best of the Asiatic races," and looked to the day when the next generation of Filipinos would "point with pride to the glorious history of our common country. This, of course, cannot be expected if we treat them as an alien and inferior race." The paper lauded the U.S.-installed education system in the islands, through which Filipinos could be taught to take part in the "American dream." As the natives learned English, the editors commented, "they will be able to write their orders for goods so that American merchants can read them."(24)
The discourse on the Philippines from 1898 to 1902 established images that proved difficult to erase. With little knowledge about the islands, image-makers in the United States depicted the Filipino by drawing on a crude melange of racial stereotypes borrowed from past conquests and mythology. Filipinos were seldom allowed to speak for themselves in the U.S. press, and were characterized frequently as "savages," sometimes as sub-humans, often--most telling--as children. The "child" metaphor remained important even after hostilities had ended, since optimistic features focused on the bright future for the Philippines' youngsters. The United States' emergence as a colonial power offered strategic and economic reasons for its actions in the Philippines, since the islands could provide coaling stations and a perch on China's "Open Door"-step. But the conquest of the islands also involved a wrenching revision of U.S. identity, marking both a loss of innocence and a passage into national adulthood. Characterizing Filipinos as children in need of guidance in the ways of democracy and freedom seemed to justify the U.S. imperial venture.
The resistance of Filipino leaders proved difficult to reconcile with the United States' supposedly gallant mission, but as soon as fighting began in February 1899, U.S. publications could cast the struggle in the more familiar terms of discipline and national honor. Although demonizing the enemy is a familiar staple of wartime journalism, the resistance of the anti-imperialist press in the U.S. represented a significant exception. The alternate versions of the Philippines presented simultaneously in the press may have helped prepare the reading public for the about-face that followed military victory over the archipelago. The rehabilitation of the image of Filipinos from potential supporters of guerrilla fighters to potential buyers of U.S. products invited a rediscovery of the Philippines more complicated but no less ambivalent than the initial "discovery" of the new Other in 1898.
(1) Oscar K. Davis, "Today In the Philippines," Munsey's Magazine 21 (1899): 1934.
(2) Nation 66 (23 June 1898): 476.
(3) The term also appears in an article with no byline, "The Prizes of Victory," Munsey's Magazine 19 (1898): 544.
(4) "High Civilization in the Philippines Impossible," Literary Digest 17 (1898): 243.
(5) "What Shall Be Done with the Philippines?" Ibid., 241; "The Religious Press and the Philippines," Ibid., 289-90.
(6) Atlanta Constitution, 3 May 1898.
(7) San Francisco Chronicle, 7 June 1898.
(8) Nation 66 (1898):476.
(9) Edwin Wildman, "The Filipinos," Munsey's Magazine 21 (April 1899): 32-9; John Alden Adams, "The Wealth of the Philippines," Ibid. 19 (August 1898), 674--85; Chicago Tribune, 7 May 1898; San Francisco Chronicle, 5 June 1898; Henry Cabot Lodge, "The Spanish-American War," Harper's New Monthly Magazine 98 (1899):505-22.
(10) Ibid., 39; Richard H. Titherington, "Our War with Spain," Munsey's Magazine 21 (1899): 582; San Francisco Chronicle, 5 June 1898.
(11) Literary Digest 17 (1898): 24-6.
(12) San Francisco Chronicle, 10 June 1898. (13) "The Third Battle of Manila," Literary Digest 18 (1899): 180.
(14) Francis Newton Thorpe, "The Civil Service and Colonization," Harper's New Monthly Magazine 98 (May 1899): 861; Adams, "The Wealth of the Philippines," 676; Chicago Tribune, 22 May 1898.
(15) "The Third Battle of Manila," 181.
(16) "Fighting in the Philippines," Literary Digest 18 (1899): 387.
(17) "The Third Battle of Manila," 181; "Force or Conciliation in the Philippines?" Literary Digest 18 (1899): 688. (18) Atlanta Constitution, 1, 9 April 1899. (19) "Fighting in the Philippines," 387. (20) Atlanta Constitution, 1 April 1899. (21) James Martin Miller, "American Soldiers and Filipinos," Munsey's Magazine 21 (1899): 704-5; Nation 69 (1899): 81, 234. (22) "Force or Conciliation in the Philippines?" 688. (23) Worthington C. Ford, "Trade Policy with the Colonies," Harper's New Monthly Magazine 99 (1899): 293. (24) San Francisco Chronicle, 14 June 1900.