The Wilmington morning star., 1940-04-02
Man bout

Bv George Tucker

ABOARD THE FORTY MINER,
April 1.-Get out a map of the U.
S, and draw a line between New
York and Virginia City, New.
Virginia City is 81 miles to the
west and a little to the north OF
Reno. Somewhere along this line,
this train is bowling across bleak
landscapes which h., in a few
months, will be green with growing
corn.
But don't think about corn now.
Think about Virginia City. This
is a junket to Virginia City. or
rather the ghost Of it. Seventy
years ago Virginia City was the
widest boom town west Of the
Mississippi; it vas the scene of in
credible bonanzas, a mining CAMP
where the %vigilantes wrote their
activities in wisecracks on GENE.
terry tombstones.
Sometimes things happen to a
country that can't be adequately
explained, like Swing and Ann
Sheridan and the New Deal. Vir-
ginia City was that way, too; it
just happened. But the real Vir-
GINA City, the old border-bordello
boom town of Comstock days,
doesn't exist any more. All that
remains is a legend. a ghost lock-
ed up in a silver locket.
What happens to a ghost when
the movies come along-as War
ner Brothers came to Virginia
City recently-and pry open the
locket? That's the purpose of this
journey, to find out. But before you
can appreciate what is happening
today, you've got to know what
happened-when.
Get out a broom with stiff bris.
ties OF it and sweep away the years
and the dust. If you sweep hard
enough, you'll strike pay dirt. You'll
strike silver, and the Comstock lode,
and the ghost of Edwin Booth play
ing Hamlet at Piper's Opera House.
This is the town where Mark Twain
worked as a writer on the old Ter
ritorial Enterprise, and where the
riders customarily shod their horses
with silver shoes, because it was
snowy, and silver was eaisier to
get hold of than iron.
In those days, they say, 10000
people were there; today, there
are only about 500. The old town
itself the shell - looks pretty
much the same, with it's plank
casinos and loose board walk. The
main difference is that the tents
are gone, and most of the gold;
and a man can walk across C
street at night without the danger
of getting hit by a forty-four slug.
A couple Of weeks ago, the movies
moved in on Virginia City. They
came in trainloads. They set up loud
speakers. They festooned the streets
And they put on a mardi gras that
perhaps no ghost town has wit
messed since Dodge City," The
purpose of this was the world
premiere of Warmers picture, "Vir-
ginia City"
But that was two weeks ago. The
old town has had a chance to get
back its breath, and maybe it's
perspective. We're going out there,
and look around and see. 1t should
be fun walking those old streets
where the bordello jennies used to
sing inelegant ballads ever SO en-
gagingly to the s~ourdoughs, and
where that thing you thought was
a cry was only roulette wheels
whining.
You'll get there day after tomor-
row. The porter just stuck his head
through the door and announced
briefly we're coming into Omaha.
Once 1 spent a whole summer in
Omaha, one of the incest towns l
was ever in.
This porter is a live wire. His
name is Radford Brook Petty, and
he comes from South Carolina. In
16 years of portering on pullmans,
the most interesting passenger he
ever served was the late Floyd Glib
bons. He names Gibbons without
hesitation. Gibbons, it finally leak
ed out, once bought him a dinner
and gave him a $13 tip.