During the Gold Rush of 1849 and the years that folllowed, San Francisco attracted more than any city’s fair share of eccentrics. But among all the deluded and affected that spilled through the Golden Gate in those early years, one man rose to become perhaps the most successful eccentric in American history: Norton I, Emperor of the United States and Protector of Mexico.

Joshua Abraham Norton, an English Jew, arrived in San Francisco on the steamer Franzika in 1849 from Algoa Bay, Cape of Good Hope, with $40,000. With that stake, he proceeded to make a fortune. He was an astute agent for several mercantile houses, a broker, and an energetic land speculator. In a few years Norton had become a respected citizen worth a quarter of a million dollars. But in 1853 he overextended himself in one grand effort to corner every grain of rice already in the city or on its way there. When unexpected shiploads sailed into port, prices crashed, and with them toppled the fortunes of Norton and several friends who had trusted his advice. During the long, excruciating lawsuit resulting from default on his contract, Norton’s fine mind began to warp. Ruined, he dropped from the city’s life—only to emerge a few years later in the guise of an emperor.

In September of 1859 a dignified, stocky man appeared in the offices of the San Francisco Evening Bulletin and solemnly submitted a proclamation that began: “At the peremptory request and desire of a large majority of the citizens of these United States, I, Joshua Norton … declare and proclaim myself Emperor of these United States Amused by this unusual feature story, the editor ran it without comment, but few people in the busy boom town paid much attention—even when the subsequent proclamations abolished Congress and the state supreme court for fraud and corruption. However, when Norton began appearing in the streets in a gaudy uniform given him by the commander of the Presidio, San Francisco’s army garrison, the citizenry began to take notice. There was, of course, some jeering, and rival newspapers ridiculed the Emperor. He riposted in the Bulletin , which he now used as his official publication, against “certain scurrilous and untrue articles attacking our right and propriety … in one or two insignificant papers … and the portions of a community whose taste can be pampered by low and improper articles,” and decreed that the “good sense and honesty of purpose of the nations … not be insulted by such trash.”

Resplendent in his large gold epaulets, garrison cap, and saber, Norton applied himself to the business of being an emperor as diligently as he had to being an entrepreneur. He joined the promenade along Montgomery and Kearney streets to show himself to his people, and accepted the ironic bows of his subjects with the serenity befitting his new profession. He faithfully attended public