Murieta The Bandit

MURIETA THE BANDIT

Scourge of the California Argonauts In the Early Fifties.

How the King of the Cutthroats Was Run to Earth and Killed.  A Battle on Horseback.

Chief of the California banditti who harassed the argonauts of 1849 was Joaquin Murieta, "king among California cutthroats," as he was known. "The Fra Diavolo of El Dorado" was the more euphonious title won by this young Mexican, who came up from Sonora, Mexico, to Los Angeles in 1849, when he was scarcely seventeen. Beginning in 1850, his brilliant career of crime occupied less than three years, and he was killed before he was twenty-one.

In 1850 a brother-in-law of Murieta was arrested at Los Angeles for complicity in the murder of General Bean, an officer of the United States army. In the confession that followed he told of Murieta's participation, with himself and others, in a horse stealing raid the year before. Until that time the young Mexican had excited no particular attention, being set down as a vivacious but law abiding boy popular with the girls. One of these. Rosita Felix, a pretty señorita of sixteen was so deeply infatuated that she fled north with him when the civil authorities were preparing to investigate his brother-in-law's story of the horse stealing.

With Rosita, Murieta fled to a placer mining camp on the Stanislaus river, where he located a claim and began to develop it But the feeling in the mines against the Mexicans was strong because of recent murders, the outgrowth of racial hatred, and one evening Murieta was visited by a deputation of Americans, who peremptorily ordered him out of the camp.

Murieta protested that he should not be molested, declaring that he had complied with the legal requirements in locating his claim and that it was a valuable one. One of the party, rendered abusive and reckless by whisky, referred to young Joaquin and to the frightened Rosita in insulting language. The quick tempered Spaniard rushed at the American with a knife, but Rosita seized him and begged him not to make trouble. Taking advantage of the girl's interference, another of the party knocked Murieta to the floor.

At last indignities soured whatever good nature survived in the man. Murieta cut loose from all of his friends. abandoned Rosita and deliberately set himself the task of killing every man who had participated in either of the assaults upon him. Later he talked bravely of heading a California revolution when his band had grown to include more than eighty members, with ha!f a dozen capable lieutenants, all under strict discipline.

Late in 1851 Murieta appeared with a number of companions at Marysville, and on the following day five white men were found with riatas about their necks, having been dragged to death. Then, one by one, the men who had driven him from the Stanislaus mines and from Murphy's were murdered, the work being so swiftly and quietly done that it was impossible to trace the murderers. But there was no doubt in the minds of those who were familiar with the young Mexican's history that Murieta was making good his threat to kill every man who had injured him.

The leader himself was not naturally over cruel or bloodthirsty, and it is probable that he would have become a more or less staid citizen after his private score was paid except for the presence in his band of two or three seasoned villains who delighted in crime. The worst of these and by far the most sinister figure in California outlaw history was a terrible Mexican Manuel Garcia, or "Three Fingered Jack." A veritable giant in size, lacking a finger which he had lost in a Mexican revolution and with an aspect ferocious enough to suit the part, Garcia butchered and robbed with savage abandon.

The outrages became so numerous that finally the California legislature took up the question of suppressing Murieta's band. A joint resolution was introduced authorizing the payment of a reward of $5,000 for the capture of the bandit dead or alive. It was especially provided that every assistance should be given by the California militia to one Harry Love, a picturesque scout, a former Texas ranger and a man hunter of reputation on the Pacific coast.

Though the mountaineer was a man of action and fearless, he was diplomatic. He had no intention of starting on a chance directed chase of Murieta and with no knowledge of his friends and enemies.

Working through Pancho Daniel, a member of Joaquin's band, the girl Antonia la Molinera was induced to desert her lover and, with Pancho, play traitor. When Murieta found that his companion had stolen Antonia away, instead of following the pair himself and carrying out his threat to kill them both he sent another bandit lamed Veraga to do the work. But Veraga came under Harry Love's influence and was induced to desert his leader. Meanwhile the girl, alarmed by the activity of Murieta, had divulged to the officers all the knowledge she had of Joaquin's hiding places.

Murieta's power over his followers began to wane, and a number of other deserted him. He had trouble over another woman whom he installed in Antonia's place, and Harry Love was gaining the knowledge necessary to a successful pursuit. With eight men whom he could trust and who were promised a share of the reward Love set out to follow Joaquin until he came upon him.

From the mines of Calaveras county, down through Stockton and the San Joaquín valley, farther south along the trail the outlaw knew so well, Love traced the little band that Murieta led in person. On to Los Angeles they went. Then the bandit, with six companions, started south again. Love learned of the move, feared that he was striking for Mexico and followed hard upon his trail. And, because Murieta had grown careless in the three years he had plundered, Love and his men rode straight into the camp in the Tejon pass at daybreak as the seven outlaws squatted about a little fire where coffee was boiling.

Murieta was some distance from the fire, with a can of water in his hands, cleaning his horse's back, and did not at first recognize Love's men as officers. He approached to join the conversation between the groups when one of the pursuing party who was known to Joaquín stepped forward to demand the surrender of the seven. Murieta recognized his enemy, ran to mount his horse as it stood without saddle or bridle and, calling to his men, urged his horse into the brush where the mountain dropped steeply down.

But Love, who had selected Murieta for his own quarry, was as good a horseman as the bandit He followed the wild chase, shooting to cripple Joaquin's horse. As the animal fell Murieta abandoned it and plunged on afoot. A second bullet from Love's gun brought him to earth. Then a fight ensued, with both men protected by rocks and trees. Another of Love's bullets found a mark on Murieta, and before the fight was over, in which all of the leaders companions were either killed or taken, the desperate young Mexican was dead. "Three Fingered Jack" fought the posse until he, too, was killed.

Love carried north as ghastly relics of his work and proof to the California legislature that he had earned the $5,000 reward the head of Joaquín Murieta and the maimed hand of the fierce Garcia. Public excitement waxed high as the news of the killing got abroad. It was a debated question whether Love was a general benefactor or an arrant villain and licensed murderer. Indeed it was more than hinted by the sympathizers of Joaquín that Love had killed the wrong man and that Murieta had escaped to Mexico. But he was beyond question killed at Tejon pass.