He wasn't a politician. He didn't have an army. He didn't even have a real throne, unless you count a rickety chair in a boarding house. Yet, for twenty-one years, San Francisco treated Joshua Norton as the legitimate Emperor of the United States.
History usually remembers the winners or the monsters. Norton was neither. He was a failed rice merchant who lost his mind and found a crown. In 1859, he walked into the offices of the San Francisco Bulletin and handed the editor a proclamation. It stated, quite simply, that at the "desire of a large majority of the citizens," he was now the Emperor.
Most people would have been laughed out of the building. Or arrested. But the editor printed it.
San Francisco in the mid-1800s was a weird place. It was a gold-rush town full of dreamers, scammers, and people looking for a fresh start. Norton fit right in. He walked the streets in a blue military uniform with tarnished gold epaulets and a beaver hat decorated with an ostrich plume. People bowed. They saluted. Local restaurants gave him free meals.
Why? Because he was harmless. More than that, he was a mascot for a city that prided itself on being different.
The Man Behind the Ostrich Plume
Joshua Abraham Norton wasn't born into royalty. He was born in England, grew up in South Africa, and arrived in San Francisco in 1849 with about $40,000. That was a fortune back then. He did well in real estate until he tried to corner the rice market.
China had a famine. Rice prices skyrocketed. Norton saw an opening. He bought a massive shipment of Peruvian rice for $25,000, hoping to sell it for a massive profit. Then, two more ships full of rice arrived. Then more. The price crashed. Norton was ruined.
He disappeared for a while. When he came back, he wasn't Joshua Norton, the failed businessman. He was Norton I.
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Honestly, his "decrees" were surprisingly ahead of their time. He ordered the dissolution of Congress because he thought it was corrupt (sound familiar?). He called for a League of Nations decades before it actually happened. Most famously, he repeatedly ordered the city to build a bridge connecting San Francisco to Oakland.
Everyone thought he was crazy. But decades later, we built the Bay Bridge exactly where he said it should go.
Living the Imperial Life on a Budget
Norton didn't have taxes to collect. Instead, he issued his own currency.
It was basically scrip—small pieces of paper that promised to pay the bearer back with interest in 1880. Local shops and theaters actually accepted these notes. They knew they weren't "real" money in a legal sense, but having the Emperor’s business was good for PR. Plus, he was a local celebrity.
The city even paid for his uniform. When his clothes got too tattered, the Board of Supervisors voted to give him city funds for a new "Imperial" outfit.
There’s a famous story from 1867. A young police officer named Armand Barbier arrested Norton for "involuntary confinement" (trying to get him treated for mental illness). The city erupted in fury. The Daily Alta California wrote a scathing editorial. The police chief immediately released Norton and issued a formal apology.
From that day on, every San Francisco police officer who passed the Emperor on the street gave him a formal salute.
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Why We Still Care About Norton I
You've probably heard of the "Crazy Emperor." But if he was just a guy with a mental health crisis, he wouldn't have 30,000 people show up for his funeral in 1880.
He represents something deeper in the American psyche. We have a weird relationship with authority. We claim to hate kings, yet we’re obsessed with the idea of a "commoner" rising to the top. Norton did it through sheer force of personality and a really nice hat.
The Difference Between Delusion and Performance
Was he actually "crazy"? Historians like William Drury, who wrote Norton I: Emperor of the United States, suggest it’s more complicated. Norton was definitely eccentric. He lived in a tiny room. He walked everywhere with his two dogs, Bummer and Lazarus (though some historians argue those dogs weren't actually his).
But he also knew how to play the part. He attended every public meeting of the Board of Supervisors. He visited schools. He checked on the progress of public works. He was a "monarch" who actually cared about his subjects.
Compare that to the actual politicians of the Gilded Age. While they were taking bribes from railroad tycoons, Norton was arguing for the rights of minorities. He famously stepped between a white mob and a group of Chinese immigrants during a riot, reportedly standing silently and praying until the mob dispersed.
The Emperor of the United States Legacy
If you visit San Francisco today, you can still find traces of him. There’s a plaque at the site of his old boarding house. There’s a move every few years to rename the Bay Bridge after him.
The "Emperor Norton's Fantastic San Francisco Time Machine" tour is a real thing. People still dress up as him for parades. He has become a symbol of the city’s tolerance.
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What Modern History Gets Wrong
Most people think of him as a joke. A punchline. But if you look at his actual proclamations, he was incredibly focused on justice.
- Civil Rights: He spoke out against the mistreatment of Chinese and African Americans.
- Infrastructure: He saw the geographical need for the Bay Bridge long before engineers thought it was possible.
- Political Reform: He wanted to bypass the gridlock of the two-party system.
He wasn't just a guy in a costume. He was a mirror. He showed the city what it looked like to lead with kindness rather than power.
When he died on a street corner in January 1880, the headlines didn't say "Local Madman Dies." The San Francisco Chronicle ran the headline: "LE ROI EST MORT" (The King is Dead).
How to Experience the Imperial History Yourself
If you’re interested in the real story of the Emperor of the United States, you shouldn't just read a Wikipedia page. You need to see the context.
Start at the California Historical Society. They have original copies of his proclamations and some of his imperial currency. It’s small, fragile paper that held the weight of a city’s imagination.
Next, head to the Colma Cemetery. Norton was originally buried in a pauper’s grave, but in 1934, he was moved to Woodlawn Cemetery with full honors. His headstone reads: "NORTON I, EMPEROR OF THE UNITED STATES AND PROTECTOR OF MEXICO."
Finally, walk across the Bay Bridge. Look at the span. It’s a massive feat of engineering that a "crazy" man dreamed up while walking through the fog of the 1870s.
History isn't just about the people who won the wars. Sometimes, it's about the people who gave a city a reason to smile. Joshua Norton didn't need a palace. He had the streets of San Francisco and the respect of a people who knew that sometimes, the only way to stay sane in a mad world is to put on a feather hat and declare yourself Emperor.
Next Steps for History Buffs:
- Visit the San Francisco Public Library’s History Center: They house the largest collection of primary documents related to Norton's life and the "Norton Scrip."
- Support the Emperor's Bridge Campaign: This organization works to keep his legacy alive and continues to lobby for a formal naming of the Bay Bridge in his honor.
- Read "21 Letters to a King": Seek out copies of the actual letters written to Norton by citizens of San Francisco, which show how deeply he was integrated into the local culture.
- Explore the "Bummer and Lazarus" Myth: Research the famous street dogs of the era to see how their legend was intertwined with Norton’s, offering a glimpse into 19th-century urban life.