The cattle of the south were driven north to feed these people, and Los Angeles grew on the business. As Americans poured into southern California, the immensity of the Spanish and Mexican land grants gained immediate attention; they were rich prizes to be captured. The Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, which ended the Mexican War, guaranteed the property rights of Mexican citizens in California; but that was just a treaty. Like the treaties the United States made with the Indian tribes, it didn’t mean a thing. Two years later Congress passed a law that forced the rancheros to prove their titles, and the hunt was on.

The old rancheros were asked to provide documentation that there had never been any need for, in earlier times, and court cases concerning the ownership of the land took up to twenty years to settle. The rancheros’ only assets were their land and their cattle, and most of the cattle died in the great drought of 1863–64. To pay their lawyers and their debts, in the fight for their land, the rancheros had to sell parcels of it off. And so win or lose the court fights, they lost the land.

By the 1870s all the land was owned by Americans, and was being rapidly subdivided to sell to the waves of new settlers.

And so all that—the cattle roaming the open land, the horsemen rounding them up, the adobe homes, the huge ranchos, and the archaic, provincial dignity of the lives of the people on them—

all that went away.

Chapter 44

44

They land in Stockholm after a two-hour flight over the North Pole—just enough time to catch the in-flight movie Star Virgin. Once in the city they quickly decide that the Great Stagemaster in the Sky has shifted San Diego east and north to give them a surprise. Everyone speaks English, even. They eat at a McDonald’s to confirm the impression and hold a conference in Sandy and Angela’s hotel room to decide what to do next. Jim is for going north to the Arctic Circle and above, but no one else has much enthusiasm for the idea. “You can get reindeer steaks at Trader Joe’s,” Sandy tells him, “and snow on Mount Baldy. Midnight sun in the tanning parlor. No, I want to see someplace different.”

“Well shoot,” Humphrey says, “why don’t we just go visit the Disneyland near Paris? That’s bound to be different! We can walk around and note all the differences between it and the original Disneyland.”

“The real Disneyland.”

“The true Disneyland.”

“The one and only and forevermore always the best Disneyland!”

Sandy nods. “Not a bad idea. But I’ve got a better one. We’ll fly to Moscow.”

“Moscow?”

“That’s right. Get behind that Iron Curtain and see how the Russkies really live. It’s bound to be different.”

“It would be a challenge to the businessman,” Humphrey says dreamily. “I’d have to do some shopping first.”