The late 19th century in the United States was an era marked by rapid expansion and significant technological advancements, particularly in transportation. Railroads were the lifeblood of commerce, connecting distant cities and fostering economic growth. However, this period also witnessed the rise of a notorious criminal activity - train robberies. One of the earliest and most infamous train robberies in American history occurred in Verdi, Nevada, in 1870. This event not only captured public imagination but also underscored the vulnerabilities of the rapidly growing rail system.

Frank Mitchell, seasoned Wells Fargo guard, was hunkered down with his partner in the express car of the Overland Express heading east from San Francisco when he heard a knock on the door.

Mitchell and his partner were guarding a vast trove of precious cargo - $41,800 worth of $20 gold coins and silver bullion, or the equivalent of $2.3 million in today’s dollars. The cache was on its way to Virginia City so the owners of the mining operation at the Comstock Lode in Virginia City could make payroll and keep pulling silver out of the surrounding hills at record pace.

It was November 5, 1870, near the midnight hour. They were on their way to Reno, where a regiment of Wells Fargo guards were ready to accompany the precious metals south to Virginia City.

But just a few minutes after leaving Verdi, the train suddenly stopped. The inexplicable standstill was followed by a knock on the door.

“Who’s there?” Mitchell asked. “Marshall,” came the gruff reply.

Assuming it was Conductor D.G. Marshall, Mitchell opened the door only to be greeted by the muzzle of a sawed-off double-barrel shotgun at the end of one imposing masked bandit. The bandit entered the room, keeping the two men covered before he was joined by several of his masked associates.

They immediately pried open the tops of the strongboxes and removed most of the gold while leaving the silver and a few gold bars, apparently identifying the bullion as too cumbersome to carry away.

The bandits stuffed the gold coins into sacks made from the tops of boots and tossed the loot into the surrounding brush. Exiting the train, the five masked men gathered the sacks, distributed them among themselves, packed them onto the saddles of their horses and, taking divergent paths, vanished into the night.

Big Jack Davis was one of the luminaries of Virginia City during the Silver Rush. Davis was operating his ore-stamping mill and working as a mining recorder and providing other legitimate services to the large mining operation at the Comstock Lode.

Virginia City was booming. But Davis was harboring a significant secret. The smooth businessman was moonlighting as an avid, well-practiced and moderately successful stagecoach robber.

Often using the cover of night, Davis routinely enlisted a revolving cast of unsavory criminals to help him lift gold and silver from various mines that cropped up after the California Gold Rush.

Davis was also in an enviable position in that he could use his ore-stamping mill to recast stolen metal and avoid detection.  While Davis’ diverse business pursuits, both licit and otherwise, earned him a decent living, Big Jack, as he was called, had more ambitious designs.

The era of the railroad had come to the West. The golden spike, driven into the ground in Utah on May 10, 1869, represented the completion of the First Transcontinental Railroad in the United States.

The newly completed transportation network meant mine operators, banks, financial institutions and other businesses had a more secure and efficient means of conveying goods back and forth. Sending vast troves of gold by train was on the increase, while stagecoaches were left with less lucrative freight, like the mail.

For stagecoach robbers, this technological threatened their business. But Davis didn’t see the new order of things in the West as an impediment, but a new sort of opportunity.

The complexities of a train robbery entailed overcoming several armed guards, potentially dealing with passengers, the conductor, the engineer, brakemen and other railroad employees, all of which made robbing one-shotgun stagecoaches look straightforward and simple.

Davis had plans to deal with each component and came up with a few hired guns to help hatch the first train robbery in the American West. The heist itself, as conceived by Davis, was flawlessly executed and could be considered a rousing success by nearly any metric.

Washoe County Sheriff Charlie Pegg received the news about the great train heist first thing the next morning. Word spread to the newspapers as well, and the nation soon got wind of the robbery. “All talk upon the streets today is of the great robbery on the railroad between Verdi and Reno last night,” read the lead sentence of Nevada’s Territorial Enterprise.

Big Jack Davis and his merry band of thieves may have met an entirely different fate had it not been for the intercession of the wife of Nicholas Pearson, proprietor of the Sardine Valley House.

Mrs. Pearson was the one to check in two travelers in the early morning hours the night of the robbery. Later, a third man arrived who, once checked in, appeared to confer in hushed tones with the other travelers in the hallway. Pearson thought the men were behaving suspiciously. Arriving late, separately, and going about their business with a general air of unease, all prompted Pearson’s qualms.

The first two men left at the crack of daylight, leaving the third behind. By this time, Pearson had caught wind of the robbery and began to make connections between it and the behavior of her guests.

She conveyed her suspicions to James Burke, hunter and Truckee resident, who with his compatriots immediately apprehended the man they suspected had taken part in the previous night’s caper.

James Gilchrist, a former carpenter and criminal novice, confessed his role and surrendered. While locked up in the Truckee jail, Gilchrist sang like a canary, telling law enforcement in detail about the scheme and its participants. Gilchrist was set free in exchange for his testimony against his cohorts.

Davis was arrested in Virginia City, but his ability to ingratiate himself into the local business community proved invaluable. Unlike the other gang members, who got between 18 and 24 years, Davis only was sentenced to only 10 years, despite being the brains, capital and a fair bit of muscle behind the heist.

Davis went to jail and a couple years into his sentence was witness to a massive prison break. Despite three of the other members of his gang escaping the prison, Davis not only stayed put, but helped prison guards quell the insurrection. He also provided information about the escapees.

For his efforts he was released early, after serving only five years of his 10-year sentence. His standing in Virginia City also helped secure the truncated sentence.

Big Jack could have returned to regular society, kept his head down and lived a long, prosperous life. But that’s not what happened. He simply could not put down his ingrained vocation and what appears to have been a passion - robbing stagecoaches.

On September 13, 1877, seven years after the great train robbery and two years after his release from the Nevada State Penitentiary, Davis was shot and killed while attempting to rob a stagecoach outside Warm Springs, Nevada.

The Verdi train robbery had a profound impact on the railroad industry and law enforcement practices. Railroads began to implement more stringent security measures, including armed guards on trains and more secure safes for transporting valuables. The robbery also highlighted the need for better coordination among law enforcement agencies across different jurisdictions.

Moreover, the Verdi heist became a part of American folklore, symbolizing the daring and lawlessness of the Old West. It inspired numerous books, films, and even later criminal endeavors, as other outlaws sought to replicate the success of the Verdi robbers.

The story for the most part ends there. However, treasure hunters throughout the decades note that law enforcement officers were able to recover less than ten percent of gold coins taken by the bandits.

Somewhere along the Truckee River, up Dog Valley Creek, in Six-Mile Canyon east of Virginia City or along the slopes of the Peavine Mountains may lie enough gold to make up a pretty jackpot for anyone lucky enough to hit paydirt.