The Horribles (originally published in Midtown Monthly magazine, July 2010)

High weirdness was a regular feature of Sacramento’s early Independence Day parades

By William Burg

In the era following the Civil War, Sacramento and other cities celebrated July 4th with considerable reverence. After the long struggle, patriotism helped heal a wounded nation. In Sacramento, the Independence Day parade brought every local organization of note together, ending with a series of patriotic speeches, poems and reading of the Declaration of Independence at the Grand Pavilion. In the shadow of this solemnity, a band of ill-tempered and intemperate Sacramentans held their own parade, meant to poke the pompous and temper the seriousness of the occasion with acts of public lunacy. They were called the Horribles.

Led by a “General Sloverngovern,” the group began in 1867 as the “Bummers,” who marched dressed as women and Chinese workers, followed by an ersatz cannon made of old stovepipe, with pumpkins as ammunition, behind the main parade. Positive responses encouraged them to return the following year, and eventually they became an official part of the parade, paid a subsidy to sponsor them by the city.

Known as “the Fantastics” for a while, but later settling on the title of “Horribles,” their leader, sometimes called the “Jigadier Brindle” or “Generall Killemall,” always led the procession with his immense, bloody wooden sword, often accompanied by a threadbare “Uncle Sam” character, both mounted on the oldest, mangiest nags they could find. Entrants created floats that poked fun at local or national political figures or prominent businessmen. A “waffle wagon” that deep-fried and sugared blocks of wood, then hurled them at the crowd. A float labeled “Daniel in the Lion’s Den” featured a young man seated in a cage with several goats, dogs and cats. An acrobat, “Mademoiselle de Standononetoe,” made futile attempts to do acrobatic stunts on horseback while a barker described the amazing feats that she obviously couldn’t perform. A group of “genuine Indians” rode in a cart labeled “We Are The Native Sons of the Golden West,” poking fun at the “Native Sons,” an organization that, at the time, was limited to the California-born sons of Europeans. Marching bands played instruments constructed of scrap wood or tin cans, mangling patriotic and popular songs of the day. Generally, the “Horribles” made as much noise as possible, via fireworks, playing their improvised instruments, or simply howling and shouting as loudly as they could.

At the end of the procession, a trio of indignitaries, the Declaimer, the Orator and the Poet, took the podium at the Grand Pavilion in a ceremony known as the “Illiterate Exercises.” The Declaimer recited the annual “Declamation of Indignation,” the Orator delivered a speech, and the Poet read a poem. Each attempted to outdo the other with a stream of polysyllabic gibberish, except the Poet did so while trying to rhyme. The July 4, 1880 Orator’s speech started thus:

Most benevolent malefactors, most potent, grave and reverend saloon keepers: It was but a few moments ago that it came to my notice that I should have the misfortune to inflict you with this ornate gush of oratory. This effusion of mine is as spontaneous as the essay is impromptu. I began work on this oration some three months ago, and I am glad to say I haven’t got through with it yet.

In the summer of 1894, the massive Pullman Strike brought federal troops to Sacramento to dislodge strikers from the Southern Pacific Shops. Armies of strikers and soldiers faced off in a tense confrontation that eclipsed a small, subdued July 4 parade, with no “Horribles” present. The strike represented a turning point in American history, foreshadowing an era of industrial progress, with less tolerance for public tomfoolery.

Some Sacramentans, including the editors of the Sacramento Union, publicly opposed the presence of the “Horribles” in the parade, and considered them loutish, offensive and tasteless. Their occasional jabs against City Hall, the Board of Trustees, the police force and civic leaders won them few friends in city government. The last “Horribles” parade was held in 1898, after their city subsidy ended. The Horribles may have been out of place in the more straight-laced era of the late Gilded Age, or became an unwanted relic of Sacramento’s rowdy frontier past. Or, perhaps, they simply made fun of the wrong politician.

Postcard from the Edge.

Deep Belief Moment:

I believe…

This is a wave. A fantastic , skyward-rising wave, of political and religious influence.

It moves in direction with force. It seems overwhelming. Perhaps, for a brief time, it is.

Waves have crests and troughs. They scrape like bulldozers and crash through barriers.

Waves pick up whatever is there, detritus, seaweed, shells, and hoist it all heavenward.

They reflect a spark and sparkle and glimmer and roar. Terrifying immensity. A moving skyscraper of energy and absolute solidity, magnifying the sun.

One doesn’t hear the roar of tigers in America, but one can hear it in the sea.

Those riding the wave at the crest right now must feel a sense of power and dominance- of victory.

Until the wave breaks- and all that wave energy recedes.

And that wave energy will recede.

The tide is going out -for that political movement.

Perhaps not today. But that is not mere prophesy. It’s a law of nature that governs our survival.

Is Marjorie Taylor Green riding the crest, Kristi Noem? The Gang of Pirates, with exhilaration, that can see their houses from here, from there, from the crest of an ever-moving churning force, quite beyond human control?

Fame and fortune. Roe. Guns. The Anti-environmental movement. Tictoc politicians.

That tide is going to go out.

If you live by the sea it makes you wonder and reflect on its power.

Don’t turn your back on the ocean.

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I haven’t seen any history nerds mention this, but this year-and throughout the years coming, a religious and political fervor rollls across the “heartland”; these political patterns rhyme with a previous era in our history, in the antebellum era- the Second Great Awakening.

“This awakening was unique in that it moved beyond the educated elite of New England to those who were less wealthy and less educated. The center of revivalism was the so-called Burned-over district in western New York. Named for its overabundance of hellfire-and-damnation preaching, the region produced dozens of new denominations, communal societies, and reform.”

Today’s is a manufactured, secular version of a time when church revivalism peaked, and hard-core religiosity gained a foothold in the public consciousness.

“It incited rancor and division between old traditionalists who insisted on the continuing importance of ritual and doctrine, and the new revivalists, who encouraged emotional involvement and personal commitment.” (wiki).

I’m not judging whether this is good or bad- it just is.

I’m no expert and in some ways we do have an opposite trend to early reform movements- perhaps today it’s a reactionary version. I don’t mean to oversimplify.

The sweeping nature of today’s provocative fascistic politics has a seed in the Awakening, and anyone who’s been to an evangelical church early in Trump would hear the prophesy that compels this wave of energy that threatens to overwhelm our institutions.

Knowing this, we can make some determinations, that the wave is temporary.
That the destruction appears permanent- because it has indeed placed the Nation into a crisis- but we are in the center of it. We do not know exactly where this goes.

Our institutions are being assailed- but, the onslaught of religious/political fervor does not translate well into policy.

Eventually Americans will have to come off of the psychotic Trump hallucinations and administer government.

The 80% of Americans that understand democracy as a form of social/ liberalism are not taking this challenge lying down.

So there is a great awakening of liberal democracy too- if we choose that, through defiance and activism and expertise.

So there is a warning and there is hope.