For that reason, Lumea says, Norton stands as a sort of 19th-century forerunner to the city’s famous countercultural tribes—the bohemians, beatniks, and hippies. “In all these proclamations, he’s talking about things like equality and tolerance and the common good,” Lumea says. “These things became adopted as values of the Bay Area, and the Emperor is talking about them in the 1860s.”

Whether or not that thinking was influenced by Freemasonry is an open question. Regardless, the fraternity was clearly an important part of his life. Norton joined Occidental № 22 (now California № 1) in 1854, and by 1855 was listed in the Proceedings of the Grand Lodge as a Master Mason (suggesting he either progressed quickly through the degrees or affiliated after receiving them elsewhere). He remained connected to the lodge until being suspended in 1859, likely for nonpayment of dues. That’s not surprising: Despite his immense popularity, following a disastrous business caper that left him bankrupt in 1854, Norton lived in a constant state of near-destitution.

Though he died without rejoining the lodge, it was a fellow Mason, Joseph Eastlund, later the head of Pacific Gas and Electric and a member of California № 1, who donated the funds to have Norton buried at the old San Francisco Masonic Cemetery. A century and a half later, his fellow members’ embrace of Norton at both his heights and depths remains endearing, Lumea says. “It certainly says good things about the Masons.”