The History of Father Junipero Serra Problems along El Camino Real

May 11, 2015

This is part of a series on Junipero Serra. To read the full series, click here.

FOR Fray Junípero Serra, the period from March, 1773 to May, 1774 was a time of joy, progress and triumph. His letters were full of warm gratitude, ebullient optimism and bright hopes. The California enterprise was going well. 

But soon minor problems began to surface. The discontent was occasioned by Fernando de Rivera, the new commander, whom from the beginning Serra considered a roadblock to the program so harmoniously projected by the viceroy. Serra lacked enthusiasm for Rivera from the very moment he had heard of his appointment and now at Monterey he became convinced that he had not been in error when he judged that he could never expect much cooperation from the commander. 

Jose de Galvez too had his misgivings about Rivera as a military leader, as well as about his willingness to take the initiative. Rivera had received the same instructions as Serra and had copies of the same documents prepared by the viceregal government. However, government in practice is one thing, in theory is another. 

No matter what had been decreed in Spain or Mexico, ultimate success in California depended upon the cooperation of the commander and the Franciscan Presidente. The sad fact is that despite the viceroy's generosity, both Serra and Rivera did at times lack the necessary wherewithal to forge ahead, due mostly to the great distance between California and its sources of supply. 

Serra was certainly the greatest enthusiast for the prosecution of the California conquest. Through all negotiations he always appeared as the incurable optimist. His zeal and sincerity had won over Antonio Bucareli. But Serra was realistic enough to realize that not everyone shared his goals and methods. 

The Presidente felt that after five years of operation, the Alta California missions were in as good shape as those of Peninsular California and, of course, his plans were to perfect them. He was forever trying to keep lighted the three fires he had enkindled: at Monterey, at the palace and at the college. 

Despite the fact that Serra had gone to Mexico principally to have Pedro Fages removed and to have substituted for him a successor who would work with him harmoniously, that purpose was not attained with the appointment of Rivera. Disputes and misunderstandings were almost continuous. That anything was accomplished at all is nothing short of a miracle. 

Serra's aim was to found as many missions as possible for the prime objective of converting the Indians, as is plain from reading his numerous and pleading letters. He especially wanted to see San Buenaventura, so long delayed, become a reality. His idea was to build ten or eleven missions in his lifetime and thus have a ladder with conveniently placed rungs. (He always referred to the series of missions as a ladder, each one a rung, something one climbed up and down with no little labor). 

Sometime prior to mid 1774, Serra proposed to Rivera the founding of San Buenaventura. He later wrote that his request was refused with "such reasoning" that if a hundred additional soldiers were added to the presidios, Rivera would still offer the same negative objections. 

The Presidente was more than willing to take the plunge. He felt that without taking a calculated risk, nothing would be accomplished. He recalled that the reason for Spain's presence in California was to convert and civilize the Indians. He could see no reason for delay when there was a probability of success. It was a clash between Rivera's "military prudence" and Serra's "spiritual imprudence.' 

But Serra was a pragmatist. After broaching the subject in a humble way, pleading for the cause that was close to his heart, he let the matter drop. But he never for a moment doubted that eventually he would get his way. And he did.