Jones and Stewart organized the Panamint Mining Company with a capital of $2,000,000. Other claims were bought but immediate development was delayed by difficulties in obtaining title because many of the owners were outlaws, difficult to find. A few were located in the penitentiary and there received payment. For some of the claims the promoters paid $350,000.
On June 29, 1875, the first mill began to crush ore from the Jacobs Wonder mine. Panamint City became one of the toughest and most colorful camps of the West. It was strung for a mile up and down narrow Surprise Canyon. It was believed that here was a mass of silver greater than that on the Comstock and shares were active on the markets.
The most pretentious saloon in the town was that of Dave Nagle, who later as the bodyguard of U. S. Supreme Court Justice Stephen J. Field, killed Judge David Terry, distinguished jurist, but stormy petrel of California Vigilante days. Judge Terry had represented, then married his client, the Rose of Sharon—Sarah Althea Hill—in her suit to determine whether she was wife or mistress of Senator Sharon, Comstock millionaire. Feuding had resulted with Field, the trial judge. Meeting in a railroad dining room, Judge Terry slapped Justice Field’s face and Nagle promptly killed Terry.
Poker at Panamint City was never a piker’s game. Bets of $10,000 on two pair attracted but little comment. Gunning was regarded as a minor nuisance, but funerals worried the town’s butcher. He had the only wagon that had survived the steep canyon road into the camp. “I bought it,” he complained, “to haul fresh meat, but since there’s no hearse I never know when I’ll have to unload a quarter of beef to haul a stiff to Sourdough Canyon.”
Panamint City attained an estimated population of 3,000. Harris and Rhine, merchants, having the only safe in the town permitted patrons to deposit money for safe keeping and often had large sums. On one occasion they had the $10,000 payroll of the Hemlock mine.
A clerk arriving early at the store, suddenly faced two gentlemen who directed him to open the safe and pass out the money. “Just as well count it as you fork it over,” one ordered. The clerk had counted $4000 when he was told to stop. “This’ll do for the present,” the spokesman said. “We’ll come back and get the rest.”
“Yeh,” added his partner. “Too damned many thugs in this town.”
They sallied forth on a spending spree. The down-and-out along the mile-long street received generous portions of the loot and a widow whose husband had been killed in a mine explosion, received $500.
These bandits, Small and McDonald, thereafter became incredibly popular and the legend follows that what they stole from those who had, they shared with those who hadn’t.
Wells-Fargo and Company offered a reward of $1000 for their capture, but their arrest was never accomplished. Invariably they were apprised of the approach of pursuers and simply retired to some convenient canyon. The bandits further endeared themselves to the citizenry when Stewart and Jones arranged for the importation of a hundred Chinese laborers.