You’ve perhaps heard during your Bay Area residency the occasional passing reference to an “Emperor Norton”, some foppish, overdressed, Victorian-era kook whose legacy we are apparently supposed to respect. Why? Why is Emperor Norton considered historically significant? What cultural influence has this ostrich-feather-hatted white guy on modern-day San Francisco? In honor of this Sunday's 137th anniversary of his death in 1880, SFist dug through Mark Twain-era newspaper clippings and anciently out-of-print biographies at the San Francisco Public Library History Center to determine who Emperor Norton was and why he is still considered iconic in contemporary San Francisco.

“He was the original eccentric, the original weirdo,” said Kevin DeMattia, one of the owners of the Tenderloin’s Emperor Norton’s Boozeland that is home to much of the artistic ephemera shown in this article. And while other cities around the world may have had weirdos who predated him, Emperor Norton was a Gold Rush-era bon vivant who combined the local-legend cult-following magic of Frank Chu, the crassly effective media manipulation of Donald Trump, and the inexplicable cultural staying power of a Kardashian to be the most talked-about San Francisco socialite of the earliest years.

This despite that Emperor Norton was flat broke and lived in the 1880s equivalent of an SRO. This is his story.

The Rise and Fall of Joshua Norton
Joshua Abraham Norton arrived in San Francisco in 1849 as a legitimately wealthy and powerful man (estimates on his age vary, but he was likely in his late 30s at the time). Norton had inherited his father’s South African shipping empire, and once in San Francisco he bought more ships, several parcels of land, and opened a successful cigar factory and rice mill. By 1852, Norton’s net worth increased to $250,000, or several million in today’s dollars.

Norton lost that fortune practically overnight over a rice deal gone bad. He bought a giant shipload with 200,000 pounds of imported Peruvian rice, thinking he’d corner the market during a severe rice shortage. But in the days to come, several more ships of Peruvian rice arrived on San Francisco shores, driving the price of rice down instead of up. Norton sued the rice merchants who he felt swindled him, but the courts ruled against Norton and his properties were foreclosed upon to settle his debts.

Nine years after his splashy arrival, Norton had fallen from high society, and was holed up in a crappy boarding house.

Bust of Emperor Norton in the upstairs of Emperor Norton's Boozeland (Image: Joe Kukura)

So He Starts Calling Himself ‘Emperor’
A massively high-functioning schizophrenic, Norton played on the anxieties of the Civil War-era suspicion of the federal government. In September 1859, he walked into the offices of the successful newspaper the San Francisco Bulletin and handed them a slip of paper, which he signed “Norton I, Emperor of the United States” and declared the following:

I, Joshua Norton, formerly of Algoa Bay, Cape of Good Hope, and now for the last nine years and ten months past of San Francisco, California, declare and proclaim myself the Emperor of These United States, and in virtue of the authority thereby in me vested do hereby order and direct the representatives of the different States of the Union to assemble in Musical Hall of this city, on the 1st day of February next, then and there to make such alterations in the existing laws of the Union as may ameliorate the evils under which the country is laboring.

The Bulletin published his decree as news, because why not. No one showed up at the Music Hall for Norton’s meetings, but his ludicrous decrees were an incredibly popular novelty and sold many newspapers. Competing newspapers seized on the tactic and also published any decree Norton would give them, and sometimes merely made up decrees and attributed them to Emperor Norton.

Norton wrote more decrees, and soon newspapers in other cities started publishing them, making him somewhat of a national star. Emperor Norton decreed the abolition of the US Congress, the California Supreme Court, and both the Republican and Democratic parties. When France invaded Mexico in 1863, Norton added the phrase “Protector of Mexico” to his title.

The man never set foot in Mexico in his life.

Sign at Emperor Norton's Boozeland (Image: Joe Kukura)

The Original ‘Don’t Call It Frisco’ Snob
While our city’s cultural elitism against use of the abbreviation “Frisco” is most frequently sourced to Herb Caen, the original ban on the term is generally attributed to a supposed 1872 declaration from Emperor Norton:

Whoever after due and proper warning shall be heard to utter the abominable word 'Frisco,' which has no linguistic or other warrant, shall be deemed guilty of a High Misdemeanor, and shall pay into the Imperial Treasury as penalty the sum of twenty-five dollars.

While that is cleverly worded, this quote is completely apocryphal and there is no evidence Emperor Norton ever said it or had it printed in his name.

Emperor Norton currency on display at Emperor Norton's Boozeland (Image: Joe Kukura)

He Starts Printing His Own Money
Norton excelled at collecting freebies. Reporters, including then-Samuel Clemens (who would become Mark Twain), followed him around and reported on where he ate and which stores’ clothes he was wearing, just because both Norton and the reporters would get free hook-ups in exchange for the free publicity. Politicians sought Norton’s company just to bolster their popularity. Leland Stanford let Emperor Norton ride his trains for free, because Leland Stanford was widely hated at the time and needed some good PR.

Army officers happily gave Norton their uniforms, which he took to wearing about town daily whilst diligently collecting his freebies. He eventually started issuing his own money — which he sold for actual US currency, or used about town at businesses that gladly accepted it. Norton became a legitimate tourist attraction, and visitors would come to town just to meet him and buy his phony money. Norton claimed that holders of his currency would be paid back with 7% interest in the year 1880.

Conveniently, Norton died just a few days into 1880 so no one ever got repaid.

Mural at Emperor Norton's Boozeland, by Andrei Bouzikov and Andrea Casserly (Image: Joe Kukura)

The Death Of An Emperor
Emperor Norton continued to attend society functions, but he did not make it to the January 8, 1880 monthly meeting of the Hastings Society at the Academy of Natural Sciences. On that cold rainy night, Emperor Norton was on his way to that meeting but reportedly keeled over and died at what is now the intersection of California Street and Grant Avenue.

Norton was carrying about five or six dollars on him, which was his life savings. Several local businesses chipped in so he could have a dignified funeral, and the Chronicle estimated that 10,000 people came to see his body lie in state. Furthermore, his funeral procession was attended by an estimated 30,000, and reportedly stretched for two miles.

Emperor Norton was buried at the former Masonic Cemetery north of the Panhandle. When all of the cemeteries were removed from San Francisco in the early 1900s, his grave was transported to the Woodland Park Cemetery in Colma, where it still remains today.

The Emperor Gets A Widow, Posthumously
An amusing epilogue to Emperor Norton's story came in 1965 when pioneering gay activist and onetime San Francisco candidate for supervisor Jose Sarria donned some regal drag and declared himself Empress I, The Widow Norton, in a cheeky nod to both Joshua Norton's zaniness, and to the city's historic love of eccentricity. As Empress I, Sarria would go on to become the founder of what is now an international LGBT social and philanthropic organization known as The Imperial Council, which continues to elect local emperors and drag empresses every year in cities all over the country and world. Sarria died in 2013, and his grand funeral at Grace Cathedral was followed by a burial in Colma, near the grave of Emperor Norton.

For a fully immersive commemoration on the 137th anniversary of his death this Sunday, Emperor Norton's Fantastic San Francisco Time Machine will hold the Fourth Annual Emperor Norton Memorial Walk to retrace his final steps.

Related: Effort To Rename Bay Bridge After Emperor Norton Revived By Online Petition

Dear Rain,

While I don't expect you to be the "final" answer on the use of the term "Frisco," I'd love to get your insight. I frequently see commenters on SFist upbraiding anyone who uses the term "Frisco," but also hear people I know are either natives or long-time residents - like a guy at my gym and multiple Muni drivers - using it non-ironically. I'm not so concerned about Buzzfeed's thing, but I would like to know what real people who are from here think about use of the term. Do you believe "Frisco" is OK to say?

Thanks for your help,

Isn't Herb Caen kind Of Over-Rated Anyway?

Dear IHCKOORA,

Ahhh. The old "Frisco" question, a controversy dating back to the 1800's when a local madman declared it unlawful to use. To quote Norton I, Emperor of the United States, and Protector of Mexico:

"Whoever after due and proper warning shall be heard to utter the abominable word 'Frisco,' which has no linguistic or other warrant, shall be deemed guilty of a High Misdemeanor, and shall pay into the Imperial Treasury as penalty the sum of twenty-five dollars."

About 100 years later, Herb Caen titled one of his books Don't Call It Frisco, and wrote, "..'Frisco' shows disrespect for a city that is now big and proper and respectable, and because only tourists call it 'Frisco' anyway and you don't want to be taken for a tourist, do you?"

So, if two old white guys said it should never be used, it must be true, right?

Well, I will admit for much of my life, I agreed. You can just google my name and the word "Frisco" and you'll see me admonishing its use more than once, going all the way back to 2005 on this very site.

It's something I kind of knew, as I was growing up. It probably came from my parents, who also just seemed to know you shouldn't use it back when they moved here; and from reading the occasional Herb Caen column over the years; and, I've come to realize more recently, from hanging around mainly white kids in my youth. It was a self-fulfilling belief.

But this idea that no one from San Francisco ever calls it Frisco is just patently false. Listen to almost any rap or hip hop record from a Bay Area artist, and you're going to hear the F word. Now, I don't know if that's because these artists legitimately used it growing up, or because it's just easier to rhyme something with "Frisco" than it is "San Francisco." But the bottom line is, there's little to no stigma with its use among San Francisco minorities. Plenty of locally run businesses use it too. (Including Frisco Fried, which I was reminded on Sunday has the BEST fried chicken in the City.)

Herb Caen, who is most likely the main party responsible for the idea that Frisco is a bad term, eventually came around, writing: "Adolescence is believing that 'Frisco' is a racy nickname for a city; senility is automatically saying 'don't call it Frisco,' maturity is figuring it doesn't matter all that much..."

I guess I've reached maturity because really, I don't give a shit about the word anymore. And in fact, I find it more annoying hearing people telling others not to use than I do the use of the word itself! Especially when that scolding comes from someone who hasn't been in San Francisco for that long.

So, in conclusion, I think telling people not to say Frisco has become the new "Frisco."

Rain Jokinen was born and raised in San Francisco and, miraculously, still calls the city home. Her future plans include becoming a millionaire, buying a condo complex, and then tearing it down to replace it with a dive bar. You can ask this native San Franciscan your questions here.

Target stores in the city of San Francisco are selling a t-shirt by a brand ironically called Local Pride that no local would be caught dead in. It says "San Fran" on it with a little smear of rainbow, and both things make me want to spit.

SF Citizen spotted the offending shirt at the City Target on Geary, and SF Gate subsequently found it also at the Mission and Fourth Street store and ran with the headline "Get out your pitchforks because SF Target is selling rainbow 'San Fran' shirts."

If anyone is confused about why this should provoke such rage, try to hear the words said by a Midwestern uncle, casually asking "How are things going out there in San Fran?"

Christ, even a t-shirt that said Frisco wouldn't be half as annoying, because as I've said before, Jack Kerouac enjoyed the abbreviation and so did Herb Caen, who famously said, "The toughest guys on the old S.F. waterfront, neither rubes nor tourists, called it Frisco, and no effete journalist would have tried to correct them... Frisco is okay. It is 'San Fran' that is to be hated."

Anyway, it's just a dumb t-shirt line being sold at a department store, one of dozens with place names on them so that unhip kids can show their "local pride" and/or adopt some cool by association by wearing a "WEHO" or "DTLA" or "Chi" shirt. But shouldn't the designer have done a little more homework before running off a few hundred thousand of these atrocities?

I now yield the floor to the sworn enemies of chain stores.

Previously: BuzzFeed Is Behind This 'Call It Frisco' Campaign

Just the other day SFist was noting some flyers posted around the Mission with the words "Call It Frisco" and the date January 29. Well, today we get a bit more explanation, and we know who's behind it, and it's not some provocateurs like Gay Shame or anything like that. It's BuzzFeed SF, and it's has to do with an event they're throwing.

Today they tweeted out the URL http://callitfris.co/ with the call to action "let's do this," and the Twitterati were immediately on top of the fact that BuzzFeed itself owns that domain.

SFist reached out to BuzzFeed SF editor Jessica Misener who says, "Yes, we are behind it." She explains further, "Some people in this city get really uptight about the name 'Frisco,' but it actually has a rich history rooted in many Bay Area communities. We want to reclaim it, even if just for a day. It's OK to call it Frisco!"

I'm still pretty sure it's most old people and ardent Herb Caen fans who get weird about calling the city "Frisco" — being a fan of Kerouac, I've never personally cared and it just makes me think of the 50's, and him.

Also, as Caleb pointed out the other day, Caen himself, the man who published a book under the title Don't Call It Frisco, once wrote, "The toughest guys on the old S.F. waterfront, neither rubes nor tourists, called it Frisco, and no effete journalist would have tried to correct them."

Anyway, Caen is long dead, and mostly only longtime residents and natives even know who he was, and this debate is probably tired. And, as Misener clarifies, "We're not asking people start calling it Frisco permanently, just that it be allowed on this one day."

As for what this party/event is going to be next week, that remains TBA.

Update: Misener clarifies further that this isn't a campaign to promote an event, per se. "Call It Frisco Day is the event itself, and the event [we throw] will just be a small celebration in name of that."

For those too lazy to click, here's the full text of the new site:

For too long, the Bay Area has been torn apart by one very important question: How should you abbreviate San Francisco?

"San Fran" is much too nasal. "SF"? It's the opposite of mellifluous. "Paris of the West"? I mean... okay. It's all been so confusing. Until now.

Let's just call it Frisco.

Frisco's roots — in Gold Rush California — are as deep and nuanced as the city itself. It's the chosen nickname of Jack London and Otis Redding; Irving Berlin and '90s Bay Area rappers; sailors and the Hells Angels; the vital blue collar core of our city. It's fast. It flows off the tongue. It pisses off tech bros. It is, in fact, totally fucking awesome. That's right, San Francisco, hold onto your hoodies: It's time we reclaim "Frisco."

And, yes, look, we know what Herb Caen said. And we're aware of Emperor Norton's fines. But conformity is lame. And honestly, the opposite of the spirit that built this great city.

So, look, for this one day, January 29, you have a pass. You can call it Frisco. Go ahead! It's fine! Sing John Kanaka, and contemplate the Hell's Angels. Call it Frisco, and sit by the Bay. Don't worry, you won't be alone. We'll do it too.

Join us January 29th for a special Call It Frisco Day celebration — details to follow.

Previously: Provocateurs Post 'Call It Frisco' Fliers In Mission

Polysyllabic "San Francisco" has been subject to every possible contraction and abbreviation. While "SF" might be more en vogue, "Frisco," fueled in part by too-clever Twitter ironists, has made a recent comeback.

Or maybe "recent" and "comeback" needn't apply. As the Chronicle recorded in 2003, dyed-in-the-wool San Franciscans were flocking to 1996-founded Frisco Tattoo to get themselves permanently emblazoned with the term they've always used, irony-free.

So maybe it's no surprise and not particularly noteworthy that an unknown party has just plastered the Mission with "Call it Frisco" fliers. As Capp Street Crap observes, the posters' motives are vague and only a date — the 29th — is listed.

Some Reddit theorists speculate that the fliers are the latest effort to divide us from the saboteur-types at GayShame, a queer, nihilist-leaning group of shitstarters who most recently targeted tech workers with their flier campaigns.

So, why would this be in any way controversial? Well hello and welcome to San Francisco. That would be in part thanks to Chronicle Columnist Herb Caen's famous interdiction, "Don't Call It Frisco" — also the name of his book — wherein he argues:

"Don't call it Frisco. It's SAN Francisco, because it was named after St. Francis of Assisi. And because 'Frisco' is a nickname that reminds the city uncomfortably of its early, brawling, boisterous days and the cribs and sailors who were shanghaied and because 'Frisco' shows disrespect for a city that is now big and proper and respectable, and because only tourists call it 'Frisco' anyway and you don't want to be taken for a tourist, do you?"

Though his words are usually interpreted seriously, Caen can also be read as ironic, critically voicing another person's opinions and not his own. He himself once added that "the toughest guys on the old S.F. waterfront, neither rubes nor tourists, called it Frisco, and no effete journalist would have tried to correct them." The Weekly also begins to unravel that class element in a piece called "Don't Call It 'Frisco' — If You're Old and White."

Later, Caen further amended his plea to "Caress each Spanish syllable, salute our Italian saint" observing something about the life-cycle of "Frisco" and the human life-cycle. "Adolescence," he wrote, "is believing that 'Frisco' is a racy nickname for a city; senility is automatically saying 'don't call it Frisco,' maturity is figuring it doesn't matter all that much..."

Perhaps the 29th, then, is a day that calls for maturity.

Previously: Nihilist Gay Group Adds Threatening Anti-Tech Fliers To Divis, Was Behind Last Crop In Mission

(By Eyleen Tavy)

Following a link on the always-excellent Eater SF's Board Wrap (they lurk so we don't have to), we came across this sterling remark: "A friend of mine who lives in the Financial District asked me not to call it FiDi."

What? We didn't know this was bad. We feel like the well-meaning folks who try to engage us when we go back home to Delaware, all "So how's it in San Fran?" Readers, what about it? Is "FiDI" the nabe equivalent of "Frisco", and we're too uncool to know, until now? Or is this forum poster's "friend" a bit, shall we say, of a prig?

Image credit: Orin Optiglot