Steamboat Springs—Virginia City—Gold Hill—Silver City—Junction US 50; 20.8 m.f Nev, 17.

Pared throughout, easy grades; restaurants and one small hotel in Virginia City.

This route, which climbs the new Geiger Grade on the northwestern side of the Virginia Range, crosses to the high eastern flank of Mount Davidson, and descends along Gold Canyon to the bank of the Carson River, runs through country that populated Nevada and made it a State, Slanting along the mountain was the Comstock Lode, the deposit of silver ore that built up enormous fortunes, helped turn San Francisco from a collection of frame cottages into a fashionable city, helped pay the Civil War debt, and financed the laying of telegraph cables under the Atlantic Ocean.

The history of Virginia mining starts at the southern end of the range. In 1848, 1849, and again in 1850, Mormon travelers panned gold at the bottom of what came to be known as Gold Canyon, but the values were so small that they did not greatly impress the hordes rushing westward in search of fortunes. The canyon was named when a strike of some richness was made May 15, 1850, and a year later about 100 men who had returned from Placervilta California, were prospecting and mining at the foot of the canyon* The number doubled during the next year and tht camp gradually mov«d up the canyon. In this

period a Brazilian recognized the silver ore but could not mate anyone understand what his discovery meant. By 1855 Chinamen who had come over the mountains to dig a canal by the Carson were turning to placer mining and their camp, called Johntown, followed the white camp up the canyon; in time the name of the Chinese camp was applied to both. Arrivals of 1856 were Allen and Hosea Grosch, sons of an eastern clergyman. The Brazilian told them of his discovery and they started prospecting and establishing their own private assay office. While the young men were still patiently making their studies, which had gone on for a year, James Fennimore, called Old Virginny, climbed up through the canyon, crossed Sun Mountain—later called Mount Davidson—and started work in Six Mile Canyon. Immediately a few other Johntowners followed him to discover what he thought was worth the climb. They located various placer claims but soon abandoned them. The Grosch brothers never completed their work for one died of an infected foot in Gold Canyon and the other died on his way over the mountains. Their secret work had attracted the suspicion of Henry Comstock, a lazy fellow who liked to have others do all the arduous prospecting but hoped to stake a rich claim some day, and after their deaths he vainly tried to discover their secret

The first excitement of 1859 came early in the year when prospectors found a place in Gold Canyon where they got 15 cents worth of gold in each pan. This resulted in a minor building and locating boom and the camp named the site Gold Hill. Johntowners who arrived too late to find any unclaimed spots there decided to try Six Mile Canyon again. Among the latest comers in the second canyon were Peter O'Riley and Patrick McLaughlin, who had to mark off their claims 500 yards above the choice Six Mile Canyon claims. With all this activity the miners decided on June n to organize a mining district, which they named Gold Hill; they set its north-south limits at John- town and Steamboat Springs. In the next day or two O'Riley and McLaughlin discovered the Comstock Lode on their high claims, though they neither understood what they had, nor the richness of the find; to them the "black stuff'1 with their gold was discouraging. Old Comstock, prowling around as usual, discovered them with the apron of their rocker covered with gold and immediately laid claim to the spot for himself, insisting that he had already taken up claims there. When the Irishmen were unimpressed he went away to find help and the next day came back with Manny Penrod, who cheerfully backed up Corn- stock's story and said he shared the claim. The discoverers knew they were liars but the site was lonely and they did not like to court attack by the rogues; so they agreed to give them equal shares in the discovery.

Soon all the Gold Canyon men as well as the rancher* of the valleys were rushing over Sun Mountain to locate claims. Comstocfc left his partners doing the development work while he busily set up location mpunuments for himself all over the mountain and canyon, and then, with a supreme burst of imagination, announced claim to a ranch three-

quarters of a mile long on high barren rocky Sun Mountain. One of the men attracted by the rush to Washoe was a trader named Stone, who had been operating along the Truckee. He found the Six Mile Canyon men taking out $500 to $1,000 worth of gold a day—but damning the "black-stuff." Stone was curious and carried some discarded ore away with him; a few days later he sent it over the mountains to a friend whom he asked to give it to a reliable assayer. The friend took it to Judge James Walsh, a mining expert, who turned it over to Mel Atwood, best assayer in Grass Valley. That night Atwood did the assay and could not believe his eyes; but test after test showed him ore running $4,791 a ton in silver and $3,196 in gold. When the judge heard the news he swore Atwood to secrecy until he and Stone's friend could cross the Sierras; in return he promised to take up a claim for Atwood. He and two companions started off that night on mules.

Though Atwood had promised to keep the secret, he could not resist writing a letter to Donald Davidson, the Rothschild representative in San Francisco. Davidson also had a few friends to whom he told the news. Overnight all California knew about it and the diggings on the west side of the Sierras were almost deserted as men rode, walked, and staggered up the slopes on the trek eastward to the range they had scorned in passing. Among arrivals on Sun Mountain in 1859 and 1860 were three men who were to play leading roles in its development— William Stewart, who in time came to represent law and order, and Adolph Sutro and John Mackay, who made great contributions in the technical field. George Hearst was also an early arrival and managed to stake the claims that were to be the foundation of a vast fortune.

The rush had an unnerving effect on the early claimants; for all Comstock's boasts on the richness of the claims he held, an offer of a little more than $11,000 in cash was sufficient to buy out all his claims, including the "ranch." He had already sold a quarter interest in one mine; the claims he had sold, later had a total stock-market quotation of $80,000,000. McLaughlin sold out his original interest for $3,500, and Penrod sold his for $8,500.

Before long, the whole range was covered with new camps going under the names of Winnemuc, Ophir Diggins, and Mount Pleasant Point The story is that it was Old Virginny who in a bibulous moment christened the new community Virginia in order to get some use out of liquor he had managed to spill on the ground. This was in November of 1859; Wells Fargo and the post office between them later added the word "city" as fitting for the new metropolis. That first winter was very severe; winds tore over the breast of the mountain and carried away all tents and similarly flimsy structures. No wagon ^road yet existed for the transportation of lumber and Sun Mountain itself was treeless, so the men who did not die or leave for warmer spots dug holes in the hills for shelter. Food and water were at such a premium that everyone lived on whiskey, the one staple that seemed to come through even better than the mail. Brush was the only fuel and a ton hardly gave a respectable fire*

The new Virginians were a sorry lot when spring arrived, what with filth, scurvy, and lack of food. But they were cheered when snow left the Sierra passes and a new horde swept over and up the long slopes to join them. By mid-summer of 1860 the community was taking on some of the aspects of civilization; real estate speculation was reaching its stride, a road was being constructed through Gold Canyon, and ore was going down on muleback to quartz mills at Gold Hill and in Washoe Valley. The whole valley westward (see Tour 4) was covered with tents and shacks as the quartz mills grew in number and the wooded slopes of the Sierras were being denuded to provide lumber, mine timbers, and firewood for Virginia City and its satellite camps. The Gould and Curry claims acquired by Hearst and Henry Meredith revealed a bonanza in July.

In 1861 construction on the Geiger Grade was begun to provide a better approach; this was the predecessor of the modern road that approaches Virginia from the north. In this year also Joseph T. Goodman became editor and part owner of the Daily Territorial Enterprise. Another important event of the year was the beginning of construction on the 3,200-foot Latrobe Tunnel, to be pushed back into the hill 400 feet below Virginia City; and Washoe was providing enough traffic to cause construction of a toll road over the mountains from California.

Three years after the first discovery of silver the mountain was feeding ore to 80 mills and speculation was so active that Washoe had its own stock exchange. The San Francisco Exchange was organized a year later. Washoe also had five newspapers and gas lights in its streets by 1862. In the same year Gould and Curry stock reached $6,300 a foot on the exchange (Comstock shares were first sold in units of feet).

Though the range produced $15,600,000 worth of ore in 1864 and even more in the following year, the years between 1864 and 1868 were counted slack times on the Comstock. But the State government was bringing order out of chaos; the rowdies and gunmen who had hindered production were being run out of the State, and a good part of the surplus Virginia population had suddenly run oil to new discoveries in the central part of the State, hoping to make the strikes that would put them into the millionaire class.

The Sutro Tunnel Company (see Tour Jc) was incorporated in 1865 to reach the lode at a low level In th« next year the owners of the Belcher met unusual heat at the 9OO-foot level. In 1868, 1869, and 1870 production averaged only about half that of the earlier peak years. But construction of the Virginia and Truckee went on and reached the high silver city in 1869. Then the output again began to climb, with more than $12,000,000 worth in 1872 and nearly double that in the next year; the Belcher and Crown Point stocki made the market highs. The new peak year saw the first water siphoned down and then up from the^Sierra to Virginia City, and it also saw low pay development reached ^in the Gould and Curry mine. Virginia's population wai 35,000, in another 12 months, after a bonanza in the Ophir had been discovered at the i,3OO-foot leveL That fall William Sharon began to

manipulate Comstock shares, sending them up and down, and in the following spring financial panic hit the Pacific Coast, with a big break in the price of Comstock stock; in August the Bank of California closed its doors. Production reached a new high in spite of the juggling With silver prices in Washington. Late in the year Virginia City had one of its worst fires with losses reaching $10,000,000. This fire, and others in mines, did not hinder production of $36,500,000 worth of ore in 1876, and nearly the same amount in the succeeding 12 months, with discovery of another bonanza in the Ophir. Then the returns dropped nearly in half, though the Sutro Tunnel had at last reached the Savage Mine. The next year saw a drop of more than half from the 1878 production and within two years only a little more than $1,000,000 worth of ore was being removed annually. That was the low of the period; a very slow rise began but with the devaluation of silver there was no hope for a return of the high profits of the past. The population of the whole range began to leave. The last year of the century did not see $200,000 worth of bullion go out. At intervals there were slight rises and declines in output, which did not again reach a value of $2,ooo,oop until 1923, when the cyanide process of recovery was in use. The all-time low was reached in 1932 with only about $32,000 worth of bullion recovered; but four years later the output again passed $1,000,000 in value, entirely from low-grade ore of the kind that Virginia had used in 1876 to pave C Street.

The Virginia that was a great industrial center is usually ignored in popular accounts of the Comstock; rather, the chaotic camp of the first five years, with its gunfights and over-night millionaires, is stressed. But even Mark Twain had to do considerable fine-combing to find enough gaudy stories to make up his book about his two years on the range during the most turbulent period. Actually, the towns on Sun Mountain early reached social stability, and life there was no more wild and woolly by 1870 than it was in New York. Fluctuating production caused hard times and good in rapid succession and the population rose and fell at about the same rate as the profits. The towns are not ghosts; in 1934 Silver City saw more activity than it had in 40 years. And there is not a Comstocker alive who would be surprised if new bonanzas were discovered, even though experts are pessimistic.

Nev. 17 branches southwest from US 395 (see Tour 4) at STEAMBOAT SPRINGS, 0 m*. and the ascent of one of the most beautiful routes in the State soon begins. Nothing hides the views as the road winds back and forward around the slopes and gullies.

Whereas the old Geiger Grade road had steep stretches that taxed the ability of even the best motor cars, the new Geiger Grade can be driven to the top in high gear. The foothills are dotted with second-growth juniper. Mile after mile the road climbs, offering many broad views of the valley with the magnificent Sierras beyond in the west

The broad expanse of mountains, forests, and valleys is best viewed from the GEIGBR LOOKOUT, 4.8 mv an area of about two acres at a •trategk point nearly X,OOO f«et above the Truckee Meadows and

below the road level. Fireplaces, lookouts, and picnicking facilities have been constructed of vividly colored local rock, and rock-lined paths lead to Geiger, Tilton, and Thorp points, whose names honor the partners who constructed the original road. Groups gather here for supper, particularly during the waning hours of the day and on evenings when the moon is bright. Star study groups sometimes set up their telescopes here.

The view from the lookout is not more impressive than that at many other points; it merely oSers a convenient parking spot. Far down near the valley floor feathers of trailing smoke are seen, marking Steamboat Springs; far across the valley is the white ribbon of the road that zigzags up the hazy blue side of towering Mount Rose. In near by and distant hills every color of the spectrum is seen, with the soft^ blues, violets, and gray-greens accented by vivid red spots of highly mineralized earth. In spring the meadows are bright green with new crops. The dull green of the forests on the high flanks of the Sierras, mauve shadows on far-away hills, white roads lacing the foreground and background, the deep rich black of freshly turned fields, the brown of drying weeds—all run together to provide a magnificent spectacle.

Directly below the lookout the original Geiger Grade, built in 1861- 62, sweeps up a steep canyon, ascending some 2,000 feet in five miles, Over it on October 16, 1869, 14 yoke of oxen hauled the first locomotive of the V. & T. During the i86o's both the Wells Fargo and Pioneer Stage companies kept a continuous procession of swift carts shuttling over the route and there were several hotels and stores along the way; not a trace of these remains. When the Central Pacific Railroad reached Reno in 1868, the Geiger became a veritable race-track. Virginia City turned out en masse, and thousands of dollars changed hands as the stages of the two companies wheeled into town. The best time from Reno to Virginia was an hour and 32 minutes, but a horse once made the trip in two minutes less than an hour.

At the GEIGER SUMMIT, 9.1 TTZ., the old Geiger Grade rejoins the modern highway from the west, and between this point and Virginia City the routes of the old and new roads are nearly the same. During the wild i86ojs stagecoach holdups were such ordinary occurrences on roads entering Virginia City that they received little mention in the newspapers. One that took place on the Geiger Summit in October, 1866, received more than usual mention, however, probably because other news was momentarily scarce. Stages of the Pioneer Company arriving at the summit in the early morning hours, were stopped by seven masked men with levelled shotguns and the warning "You'll find us the damndest, roughest set of citizens you ever fell in with." This was quite sufficient to unload the coaches and stand 38 men, one woman, and a Chinaman in line with hands reaching for the sky. The horses were led away and the strongbox on one of the coaches was blown open with gunpowder. All it contained was $6,000 in gold coin, so the passengers were next considered. The leader of the band courteously waved the lady aside and remarked to the stage drivers, "You men earn whatever you get hard enough and you have damned little anyhow," and

then turned to the remaining passengers. "Gentlemen, we don't like to do this. It's not in our line, but the fact is that we haven't made so good a haul as we expected, and since we've made a night of it, we may as well play our hand out." Each man was relieved of his valuables, the robbers helped the drivers hitch up the horses, and bade the passengers a pleasant journey.

_ At the Geiger Summit (6,799 alt.), the road crosses to the eastern side of the range but descends very little as it winds past old workings.

VIRGINIA CITY, 13.6 m. (6,500 alt., 948 pop.), once the center of the greatest mining activity in North America, sits high on the eastern slope of Sun Mountain—now named Mount Davidson for the Rothschild representative who vainly tried to interest his firm in the early Comstock. Friends among the Virginians renamed the mountain in his honor during a convivial trip to the summit.

The view from Virginia City is both sublime and picturesque. Rocky and barren mountains form an amphitheater in air so clear that the snow-capped Humboldt Range, more than 150 miles away to the northeast, is a distinct blue-purple mass, far beyond the green fields and cottonwoods along the Carson River and the white sands of the Forty Mile Desert, 2,000 feet below. To the south is Dayton by the Carson River, which winds around the towering pink-tinged Como Range from the yet higher Sierra Nevada. The scene when the sun is low has few- rivals in America.

The highway follows C Street, the core of the town; both high above it and far below are parallel streets—though not nearly as many as in the days when many thousands of people lived here. Cross streets climb steeply and motor cars of Virginia learn to do acrobatics without a groan. Below C Street the remaining buildings are largely industrial, above it are the old, fine residential sections—and others not so fine. Only a few houses are left from the bonanza days; some were torn down for firewood or to build other structures in the valleys below, or even in distant camps, and some were taken apart and re-erected in Reno, Carson, and other towns. Yet enough still cling to B and A streets to vivify the days when Virginia ladies delicately shook their hands above their heads to render them properly white and bloodless before receiving guests and called for their carriages to make calls on next door neighbors. Most of the houses have long been unpainted and the elaborately turned wooden balustrades along the high retaining walls are beginning to sag. The few that still have most of their decorative urns and finials are marked exceptions. Here and there is an old house in good condition and showing continuous habitation; yet even the freshest show beyond question that they belong to the days when the jigsaw was creating domestic Gothic Revival decorations.

C Street is lined with old places making a mild bid to attract attention from curious visitors; the Only and Original This-and-That offers its faded charms and many windows display huddles of photographs, chunks of Comstock ores, and similar curios. Wooden awnings are still supported by spindling cast-iron columns and cast-iron pilastexi

still frame the show windows. Here and there are iron shutters, reminders of the day when many of the offices and stores handled daily receipts that would have tempted some fairly honest men. Each year there are a few less buildings, for annually in the spring the undermined earth sags a little more at one spot or the other. Though sidewalks tilt and walls crack no one is seriously concerned about a collapse of any large section of town.

Many of the saloons that so readily catch the eye of the tourist tre in reality museums of relics. The fixtures in some are as suggestive of the past as are their formal displays. One in particular has awe-inspiring early lighting fixtures, lamps of red and green dripping with pendant prisms in tiers. The chief relic of an earlier magnificence in one is an old piano, now fixed to play electrically the hit tunes of its youth.

Visitors lingering in Virginia City are sure to find someone sooner or later who will tell them of the days when affluent Comstockers hired gunmen at $20 a day to protect their claims, of "601" vigilante episodes, of this gunman and that who daily ticked off his man before breakfast Some of the tales are true, some have a grain of truth, but piled together they represent the violence of a few short years kept alive for outsiders who would be much disappointed if they did not hear of them. Old Comstockers rarely refer to any of these hoary tales among themselves. Instead they love to remember when an agile youngster could pick up $20 in the course of a day running errands for liberal-handed men; when no saloonkeeper was expected to give change for a $5 gold piece, and change of any kind was so scarce that it could be exchanged at a premium.

Old timers are also particularly fond of remembering the formal parties that were the delight of the day and how the $5 dances of the Ivy Social Club could always be depended on for some daring novelty, as on the occasion when the committee collected all the canaries in town—every Virginia household had at least one—kept them with an attendant for a few days in a darkened cellar, and then hung the cages in rows from the ceiling of the armory. "We didn't much need the orchestra that night," they tell triumphantly. More elaborate and formal were the dances of the exclusive Entre Nous Club, with its quadrilles, schottisches, mazurkas, and waltzes. Oysters from the Coast, strawberries from Lamoille Valley, squab from heaven knows where, were regular fare at public dinners and even the miners could not indulge in a dinner or celebration without a few dozen cases of champagne. It wasn't that they really liked the drink; it was merely a symbol of wealth and the Comstock had it

In 1878 Virginia had 20 laundries, 8 dairies, 4 hay-yards, 4 banks, 50 drygoods merchants, a pawnbrokers, 20 insurance agents, 18 bar- beis, i josshouse, 6 churches, 30 lodging and boarding houses, 150 places \vheie liquor was sold, 11 faro games, I keno and 2 pan games, 2 homeopathic doctors and 35 physician-surgeons—* list that provides

t fair index to the demands of the population. The list does not tell whether the insurance men wrote fire or life policies but both were sorely needed because the fire loss here was as high as was usual in mining camps, and loss of life and serious injury were almost daily events. An average month—August, 1877—saw 15 killed by cave-ins, falls in shafts, blasts, and other mine accidents, and several others seriously injured.

A favorite diversion was climbing Mount Davidson, and from 1863 on there was a pole on the summit from which to unfurl a huge flag on special occasions. One of Mark Twain's most vivid memories was of the tense period during the battle of Gettysburg, when the fate of the Nation was in the balance, and of how the black clouds mantling the Davidson summit suddenly parted to reveal the Stars and Stripes lit by the rays of the sun.

During the Civil War, sentiment in Virginia City favored the Union and two regiments were raised and sent to Fort Churchill. Southern sympathizers caused some trouble and the proprietress of the Tahoe House shot a man in the act of raising the Stars and Stripes over her hotel. No people contributed more liberally to the soldiers engaged in the Civil War than the people of Virginia City and when news came that Lee had surrendered to Grant and the war was terminated, the Lode went frantic with excitement and the air was filled with the sound of bells, whistles, exploding anvils, music, and cheers. All the saloons were crowded, and men drinking over the bars and in the streets pledged one hero and then another, saluting "The Old Flag/' "Old Everybody," and "Old Everything," until they lost all power of recollection.

In April, 1869, occurred the worst fire in any American metal mine up to that time. At seven o'clock in the morning several hundred men of the day-shift were standing about the shaft mouths of the Yellow Jacket, Crown Point, and Kentuck mines, waiting their turn to go underground. More than too had already gone underground when smoke was seen coming out of the shafts of all three mines. Station tenders heroically boarded the cages and rescued all but 49 of the men who were underground. Rescue work continued all day and far into the night, even though they knew no man couJd live in the burning mines.

On May 31, 1882, at 8:30 a. m.> the pump column broke in the Alta shaft and seven men working a, 150 feet below the surface in a drift 1,400 feet from the shaft were imprisoned by the rising hot water* The water rose 18 feet over the drift in which ^ the miners were imprisoned before the pumps were repaired. There did not seem to be one chance in a million to rescue the men, but the policy of mine owners on the Comstock was to recover bodies regardless of expense. On the third day after the accident, the water in the shaft had been lowered sufficiently to allow a boat to be navigated in the drift, and two miners volunteered to go down* When they did not return a mid-

die aged Civil War veteran, Yank Van Dusen, volunteered to don an ice mask invented by a local man, Fred Ritter, and enter the drift On his way in, with his helmet and boots filled with ice, Van Dusen saw the dead bodies of the two men who had gone to the rescue in the boat, and several hundred feet farther in, within 100 feet of the face of the drift, he found the seven imprisoned miners alive, but nearly dead from heat and exhaustion. It required more than 100 men, inured to working in the hot mines to rescue the seven. Sixty- two hours after the pump broke the last of the victims landed on the surface at midnight, and the steam whistle of every mine and mill on the Comstock was tied down for 15 minutes as the Lode celebrated.

Practically all men and women living in Virginia City ^ during its prosperous years speculated in mining shares. Female domestic servants, earning from $50 to $75 a month were particularly incorrigible stock gamblers and had opportunities, time and time again, to sell their shares to advantage; but they held onto their stock, waiting for better offers, and all died poor. Many among the working class had opportunities to sell their shares for more than $100,000, and all who speculated persistently over a period of years had at least one opportunity to sell for at least $25,000. Few did, however, and eventually those who held on had only bundles of green certificates to show for their investments.

Speculation in Comstock shares was usually on a 20 per cent margin. Market prices depended on many factors, of which production was not always the most important. Manipulation by powerful speculators caused frantic fluctuations that at times endangered even the soundest West Coast banking houses. Even more important was public sentiment; tips and rumors, panic on the part of one man, sensational success on a wild gamble by another—alone or together these would send shares from quotations of a few cents up to thousands, and down again to the gutter.

Even when the Crown Point and Belcher mines were extracting their bonanzas and the companies were paying millions in dividends, shares in all Comstock mines decreased steadily in value under prophecies of doom from those who had lost faith. Then came the Big Bonanza of 1873—probably the richest body of gold and silver ore ever found on earth. Within a little more than a year the stock of the Consolidated Virginia and the Consolidated California, which together owned the bonanza, had a total stock exchange value of $159,000,000. Mackay, Fair, Flood, and O'Brien—who became known as the Bonanza Kings—had been able to buy control of the two mines for about $100,000 only two years before the discovery was made. In 1870, before the Crown Point bonanza had appeared to rouse new hopes, the Consolidated Virginia, with 1,010 feet on the Lode, had 11,000 shares of stock listed at $i a share, and two small claims adjoining it, with 300 feet on the Lode that were later part of the reorganized Consolidated Virginia and Consolidated California, were considered too worthless for regular listing.

Another factor causing confusion in Lode market values was the lack of accurate surveys. Claims conflicted and overlapped and litigation often swallowed all profits. Mackay worked endlessly to clarify the holdings of Consolidated Virginia and Consolidated California; and at the time when their stock prices were at their peak, with monthly dividends of $1,080,000, the reorganized Consolidated Virginia had only 710 feet on the Lode.

Of the thousands of young men who came to the Comstock to make their fortunes, comparatively few succeeded. The great majority had great wealth within their grasp a hundred times, but guessed wrong on their gambles over discoveries, feet, and shares. Some lacked faith in the magnitude of what they owned and sold out for pittances; others lacked the vision to go on with patient grubbing on the claims they had located when richer surface deposits showed in some other area. It is true that many of the successful men got quick riches with little work, but many others worked long and hard for their returns; this was notably the case with Sutro and Mackay. Sutro went through endless difficulties and heartbreaks in digging his great tunnel and received far less from it than he had hoped; he did, however, lay the foundation for a very solid estate and later, as mayor of San Francisco, was notable for his civic contributions.

John W. Mackay was a poor miner who went to work in the Kentuck for feet, not shares; while others, including his comrade, Jack O'Brien, roistered and drank, he worked and horded to enable him to continue with small returns. When Mackay's patience was rewarded he became one of the few Comstockers who, with his family, never forgot to contribute to the State that had given him his start; his early gifts were to churches but the Mackay School of Mines is his real monument.

William Stewart was a lawyer with a keen analytical mind and his monument is found in the basic mining laws of the United States; he was a rough and tumble fighter, suited to the lawless period in which he entered Washoe, and the stories of how he forged ahead in politics make lusty reading. He was one of the first pair of Senators sent to Washington by Nevada and served in the Senate for 28 years.

James G, Fair was another Comstock millionaire who went to the Senate, but from California, not Nevada. He was the principal stockholder of the Nevada Bank in San Francisco, whose history belongs to the days of uncontrolled banking. James L. Flood was a saloonkeeper whose name is associated with the Comstock but he made his money by lucky speculation in shares. His home down the Peninsula below San Francisco became a symbol of new-rich pretentiousness. John P, Jones, who was United States Senator from Nevada for 30 years, was an ardent promoter who could not resist the call of any prospect, from mines to real estate. William Sharon was another Com- rtocker whose millions took him to the United States Senate, in his case for one term. It was Sharon's manipulations of Comstock shares

that created such havoc in the 1870*8 and resulted in at least one notable suicide.

Lucky Baldwin, one of the first men to come to Washoe mines, was a spectacular gambler in stocks, losing and winning millions in Nevada, and later in California. George Hearst was an earnest young miner who joined the first rush and made a lucky choice; he later showed dogged perseverance in developing the holdings that were eventually to finance the great publishing interests expanded by his son.

Sam Clemens (Mark Twain) was the outstanding literary product of Nevada; Virginia stimulated his imagination and taught him his pace. His Roughing It is the most read book on the State.

Though much of old above-ground Virginia City has disappeared, it still rewards visitors who have imagination to fill in the gaps; the most important part of the city is still there—the vast workings underground. The great surface workings have appeared only since about 1920. These glory holes are made by operators working the low-grade surface ores, which give good returns under modern processes of recovery,

POINTS OF INTEREST

1. High on the slope of Cedar Hill at the northern end of town is (R) the SIERRA NEVADA GLORY HOLE. Steam shovels can be seen on the upper terraces chewing away at the hill. The Sierra Nevada mine marks the northern end of the Comstock Lode.

2. Down the hill (L), not far south of the Sierra Nevada, are the galvanized iron buildings and tall tumbling gallows of the UNION SHAFT, which goes down 3,000 feet and meets the north lateral of the Sutro Tunnel at a point 1,650 feet below the surface. The side road leading to the Union also goes to the cemetery spread far over hillocks; legends on tombstones and markers here provoke speculation, amusement, and pity,

3. On the west side of C Street, at the corner of Union—opposite the post office—is an empty lot, the SITE OF THE INTERNATIONAL HOTEL, which was the boast and glory of the Comstock. The tall, elaborately appointed brick building was destroyed by the inevitable fire in the 1920'$.

4. Up Union Street one block, at the corner of B Street, is PIPER'S OPERA HOUSE, whose long one-story recessed porch received the beauty and wealth of the Virginia Range when such stars as Edwin Booth came to town. The stage boxes are now tarnished and most of the old interior fittings are gone.

-j. On B Street, half a block south of Union, is the STOREY COUNTY COURTHOUSE, whose records reveal the source of many American fortunes.

6. On the northwestern corner of C Street and Taylor, the first cross street south of Union, is the CRYSTAL BAR, of the astonishing chandeliers. The Crystal was formerly in another building but the fittings were moved complete to this place. Among the many

photographs and relics on display is the register of the International Hotel, an autograph book of the mighty dead. One of the most prominently displayed photographs shows U. S, Grant at the mouth of the Sutro Tunnel. Even Grant had thoughts of recouping his badly managed finances by investing in Comstocfc.

7. Down the hill, Taylor Street leads (L) to the deserted EPISCOPAL CHURCH and its rectory; gaunt, with peeling paint, on the edge of a high jumping-ofl place with 100 miles of magnificent, brilliantly colored scenery as a back-drop, this old structure is a symbol of dead hope.

8. Southwest of the Episcopal Church, with a side paralleling Taylor St., is ST. MARY'S IN THE MOUNTAINS, most beautiful church in the State and in some ways one of the loveliest of its period in America. The large red brick building accented with white limestone and entered through three pointed-arch vestibules, has two pinnacle*- on its facade and a rose window high in the gabled center front; t^ove rises a white, turreted bell-tower supporting a steeple. The cross on the steeple has one curious adjunct, a water pipe installed to place the church under a powerful fountain—with the aid of the high pressure engendered during the water's course from the high Sierras—in case one of the perennial fires should endanger it. The pews and appurtenances of the auditorium are pleasing but not notable; the real glory of St. Mary's is in its tall, slender, clustered redwood columns and in the delicately carved redwood trusses and arches supporting the ceiling. The capitals of the columns are also finely carved. The redwood has never been marred by shellac or varnish and its color has been enhanced by oil alone. The high ceiling is painted a delicate powdery blue of the kind seen in the Sistine Chapel at Rome; the effect of the traceried redwood against this color is breath-taking.

In the rear of the church are many fine vestments, some of them 200 years old. Virginia's first Roman Catholic church, built in 1860, was blown down by a Washoc "zephyr"; the second, a, frame structure, was soon replaced by one of brisk, costing $65,000. This was destroyed in the great fire of 1875; the present church was completed two years later—its bell was made of Comstock silver. All but the first little chapel were the result of efforts by the Reverend Patrick Manoguc, an Irishman who was as devout as he was energetic. It is told that on one occasion at leas* he knocked down a bully who was trying to keep him from visiting a dying woman.

9. On the east side of C Street, south of Taylor, is the ODD FELLOWS HALL, which was the National Theater of Bonanza days. Modjeska appeared there when the early opera house burned shortly before her arrival. The rear of the building suddenly dropped away in the night, early in 1940, as the undermined earth settled slightly after winter rains.

TO. Close to the road, about ico yards farther south on the west side of C Street is seen the roof of a large square brick building, the

GOULD AND CURRY OFFICE, where John Mackay once lived for a short time. The large solid structure, which is entered from the street below, looks more like a mansion than an office; its Victorian trim is among the most delightful in town.

11. A short distance south of the Gould and Curry office is the large frame SAVAGE OFFICE, entered from D Street. Grant lived here during most of his stay in the city. Not far from the office is a heap of rubble, head of the Savage shaft, which was reached by the main Sutro Tunnel in 1876.

12. As C Street begins to rise toward the southern end of town the large square deserted FOURTH WARD SCHOOL, built in 1876, is seen at a point where the eastern side of C Street does not slope quickly downward. It is no longer used.

13. Not far south of the school, on the opposite side of the road, is the CHOLLAR CUT, a large glory hole made by the Arizona Comstocfc Mining Company to extract low-grade ore. This place used to be covered wfch houses and streets; old-time workings came within 100 feet of the*n but never caused trouble.

At the southern end of town is the low DIVIDE. Slightly north of the Divide the modern highway turns L.

Left here 9 m. on the modern highway, which is a better paved alternate to the old road and unites with it near the southern end of the range.

The old Gold Canyon Road, which at this point becomes an alternate route to the modern route, is much used by visitors; it turns R. from the modern highway, soon meeting the old Ophir Grade, a little used road that climbs over the range and descends to the Washoe Lake area (see Tour 4), It was constructed in 1860.

The Gold Canyon Road winds down steeply, passing the BULLION MINE, an unfortunate venture that absorbed much money before it was discovered to be at a point where the Comstock Lode was broken. Some old houses dripping jigsaw work still stand in the canyon. Wild roses are particularly abundant here in the spring.

GOLD HILL, 15,8 m., is the remnant of the first highly prosperous camp on the range (see before). At its upper end is an old firehouse, typical of these built in early camps. After Virginia City reached the stage of expansive civic development the people of Gold Hill objected to the levies made on them and broke away to font) their independent town. Then, the Gold Killers, feeling that Virginia was stealing too much glory, tried to form a new county for which their town would be the seat. The attempt failed.

The first building in the Gold Hill camp was the small frame shack of Nicholas Ambrosia, "Dutch Nick,'1 the next was a small boarding house and restaurant, run by Mrs. Alexander Cowan, later Mrs. Sandy Bowers (see Tour 4). Soon a town hall was erected, then an Odd Fellow's Building, and elegant residences, churches, schools, and other lodge halls appeared.

Opposite die firehouse is the BOWBRS MINE, one of the first fortune

makers on the mountain. It paid for the Bowers Mansion. Near it is a recent glory hole.

Gold Canyon Road descends through DEVIL'S GATE, which was guarded by a cannon during the Indian scare of i860. But the cannon was more dangerous to those who fired it than to possible victims. Around the gate was a rebel stronghold during the days when Secessionists were rampant in the camps.

SILVER CITY, 17.5 m., third in importance among the old camps on the range, shows some vigor after long inactivity. At the northern end is the Crown Point Ravine, which was once spanned by a high frame railroad trestle. Not far from it is the ALTA SHAFT, end of the southern lateral of the Sutro Tunnel.

Up and down this canyon the first prospectors did desultory panning for gold for 10 years before the Lode was discovered to bring hordes to build a city on the side of Sun Mountain.

In the canyon the first marriage and divorce of Western Utah took place. An emigrant, Powell by name, came to Gold Canyon in the summer of 1853, and left his motherless family there while he went on to seek a home for them in California. A young man, Benjamin Cole, persuaded the 15-year-old daughter Mary to marry him. The ceremony was performed by civil law, and the young man took his bride of half an hour to Mother Cosser, one of the few women in the country, while he sought a cabin in which to set up housekeeping. Interested in the child-bride, Mother Cosser advised her to await her father's return before going with her husband. The whole camp took sides, some for the husband, some against. When the father returned he was grateful to Mrs. Cosser for her care and started hastily with his brood for California. The young husband, however, immediately followed with the avowed intention of abducting his bride, and the rest of the camp trailed along to prevent trouble. The decision was finally left to the girl, and she elected to stay with her father.

The next attempt at marriage in the territory was made July i, 1854, when an immigrant and his sister camped at the mouth of Gold Canyon. One of the miners proposed marriage with the girl and she was willing, but they could find neither magistrate nor minister. A woman in the camp solved the dilemma by drawing up a triplicate contract of marriage on July 4, which each signed. The document read:

By these presents we hereby certify, in the presenct of witnesses, that we will from this time henceforth to the end of our lives, live together as man and wife, obeying all the laws of the United States as married persons. In witness we set our hands and seals, this fourth day of July, in the year of our Lord, one thousand eight hundred and fifty-four.

But the lady tired of her husband after living with him for eight years and left to join her brother in California.

Silver City is the southern junction with the modern highway, which here becomes the tour route again.

At 20.8 m, on Nev. 17, is the junction with US 50 (see Tour 7<r), at t point 8 miles west of Carson City