The Wild West’s Most Stylish Railroad

In the 1870s, Virginia City wasn’t just another dusty mining town. It was a glittering oasis of wealth and vice, a place where fortunes were made, lost, and occasionally shot over a poker table. Rivaling San Francisco in its cosmopolitan flair, this boomtown needed a proper railroad to keep the Comstock Lode’s silver flowing and the whiskey barrels rolling. Enter the Virginia & Truckee Railroad (V&T), a short-line marvel that connected Virginia City to the world beyond, ensuring miners got their pay, saloons stayed stocked, and high society had a way to travel in style.

Now, building a railroad through the rugged Nevada terrain was no Sunday picnic. The mastermind behind this engineering feat was Isaac (“Ike”) James, a man who looked at sheer cliffs and deep ravines and saw opportunity or at least a challenge worth tackling. His solution? A railroad that wound through the mountains like a drunken snake, using tunnels, trestles, and enough curves to make even the most seasoned traveler queasy.

Ike's masterpiece involved creating a track with enough curves to equal 17 complete circles. In the end, the V&T dropped 1,600 feet in elevation over just 13.5 miles, making what journalists called “the Crookedest Railroad in the World.”

A Rollercoaster on Rails

By 1873, Virginia City was at its peak, thanks to the Big Bonanza, a massive silver strike. The V&T thrived, running up to 40 trains a day on a single track. Its locomotives puffed and hissed, hauling ore down to the mills and bringing back timber, whiskey, and all the trappings of civilization (or at least the Wild West version of it).

The trains were fast, flashy, and occasionally terrifying. They careened over towering trestles, shot through narrow tunnels, and hugged mountain curves like they had something to prove. Passengers from back East, used to their leisurely rides through rolling hills, often found themselves gripping their seats in white-knuckled terror. It was part travel, part thrill ride, and all business for the V&T.

Of course, all this high-speed action had its share of mishaps. Derailments and wrecks were common enough that some cynics started calling it the “Very Crooked & Terribly Rough Railroad.” One particularly embarrassing incident in 1875 involved three runaway cars smashing head-on into a passenger train right in front of several Nevada state legislators. Thankfully, no one was seriously hurt, though the same couldn’t be said for the railroad’s reputation.

Fire in the Hole—The American Flat Tunnel Inferno

Railroad tunnels, especially in the unstable Comstock region, were a necessary evil. Engineers tried to keep them from turning into death traps by heavily timbering them for support and covering them with zinc sheets to prevent fires from stray sparks. This system worked beautifully ... until it didn’t.

In October 1872, disaster struck. A fire broke out in the American Flat tunnel, likely caused by embers from a passing train. The flames chewed through the wooden supports with terrifying speed, but the tunnel’s watchman, whose job was to prevent exactly this kind of catastrophe, was mysteriously absent. By the time anyone realized what was happening, the blaze had turned into a raging inferno.

Johnny Bartholomew: The Man, The Myth, The Madman?

Enter Johnny Bartholomew, an experienced V&T engineer who had the kind of nerves that made steel look flimsy. On the morning of October 17, he found himself at the helm of Engine No. 11 "the Reno" a locomotive known for its brass candlesticks, stag horns, and enough personality to have its own fan club. Bartholomew hadn’t even been scheduled to work that day, but when the regular engineer fell sick, he stepped up. Fate, as they say, had plans for him.

The train set out from Reno before dawn, chugging along as usual. By the time they reached Carson City, everything seemed fine. Then came the climb toward Gold Hill and the fire.

As the Reno roared into the 650-foot-long tunnel, the crew realized they were heading straight into a disaster movie. Flames licked the walls, timbers groaned, and thick smoke turned the passage into something straight out of Dante’s Inferno. Most engineers would have slammed on the brakes, trying to back out before getting buried in a fiery collapse (not a good idea in this case). But Johnny Bartholomew wasn’t most engineers.

Instead of stopping, he threw the throttle wide open. The train shot forward at full speed, careening through the blazing gauntlet. Sparks showered the locomotive, embers rained down, and terrified passengers clung to their seats as the engine barreled through what must have felt like the gates of hell. Behind them, the tunnel groaned one last time before collapsing in a heap of rock and fire.

But the Reno had made it. Scorched but triumphant, the train emerged into the cool morning air, and Johnny Bartholomew officially entered railroad legend.

The Aftermath and the Legacy

The American Flat tunnel took two months to repair, but by December 18, 1872, the V&T was back in business. And Johnny? He was hailed as a hero, though one imagines he celebrated in the typical Virginia City fashion with a stiff drink and a good story to tell.

The Virginia & Truckee Railroad continued its wild, romantic ride through history, becoming a Hollywood darling (used in over 90 movies) and a beloved relic of the Old West.

It carried miners, millionaires, outlaws, and dreamers sometimes all in the same car. Today, parts of the line are still preserved, offering a glimpse into a time when railroads weren’t just transportation but adventure itself.

As for Johnny Bartholomew, his name may not be as famous as Jesse James or Wyatt Earp, but on that fateful October morning, he proved that sometimes, the difference between disaster and glory is the guts to push full steam ahead.