From: The Big Oak Flat Road to Yosemite, by Margaret Schlichtmann and Irene Paden, first published in 1955, begins near end of page 80 (Chapter IV, Chinese Camp) ============================================================================================================== ...right now, while probing into the past of Chinese Camp, we may as well touch on two rather "different" bad men of whom old-timers of the vicinity speak almost with affection: Joaquin Murieta and Black Bart. This is not the story of either one. If such a chronicle interests you, you can't do better than to read *Bad Company,* by Joseph Henry Jackson. But their lives did touch the community and, by the contact, managed to add color, spice and gossip interest to its history. Joaquin Murieta was a Mexican of pleasant manners and superior bearing. His adventures in the Southern Mines took place [page 81] between 1850 and 1853 and, by some strange alchemy, time and the legends of the gold camps have altered their base metal to something rather precious in the memories of the old-timers. No one living now remembers him but some have heard of him from their parents; from their fathers of his occasional appearances in town; from their mothers of his courtly manners and old-world fashion of bowing from the waist. Those who have done extensive research on the life of this man, tell us that the name served as a peg on which to hang the exploits of several different bandits, all claiming the name Joaquin. No doubt they are right. We give only the simple statements that have come down from father to son, and, of those, only the ones they will put in writing and sign. From George Egling, son of Louis Egling, blacksmith of Chinese Camp, and from Eugene and Austin, sons of his helper, James Mecartea, we get the statement that a man who said he was Murieta and for that reason demanded, and got, instant service, came more than once to the smithy with several mounted men and had emergency horse-shoeing done. He came quite openly but was in a hurry to be gone. He always paid lavishly. From Robert Curtin, son of John Curtin, we get the account of Murieta riding out of the shrubbery to stop a Cloudman freighting outfit; selecting the best horse with a shrewd eye and causing it to be taken from the team and put under the saddle from his spent animal. For this he paid far above its value and rode on. <snip> ... It was too bad, everyone felt, that he was on the wrong side of the law but even so his entertainment value was enormous.