First Train Robbery On The Pacific Coast

On a crisp November morning in 1870, the world buzzed with news of an audacious crime. The Overland Express, a vital link connecting the bustling metropolis of San Francisco, California, with the silver-rich boomtown of Virginia City, Nevada, had been targeted. This wasn’t just any theft; it was the first train robbery on the Pacific Coast, a brazen act that sent shockwaves across continents. Near the unassuming station of Verdi, nestled approximately ten miles west of Reno, Nevada, heavily armed and masked men had intercepted the train, making off with over $40,000 in gold destined for the Nevada mines. The strongbox of Wells-Fargo, a name synonymous with security and reliability in the West, had been breached, marking a turning point in the history of Western crime.

The sheer audacity of the first train robbery on the Pacific Coast captivated the public imagination. While law-abiding citizens expressed outrage and concern, a darker element celebrated the perpetrators’ daring and nerve. Nevada, still a relatively young state, found itself thrust into an unwanted spotlight, acquiring the dubious distinction of being a breeding ground for outlaws bold enough to target the very arteries of commerce. The incident sparked intense debate and filled newspaper columns on both sides of the Atlantic, turning the sleepy region into a focal point of international attention.

The response from law enforcement and the affected entities was swift and decisive. A substantial reward, totaling $30,000, was offered for the apprehension of the robbers. This bounty, a considerable sum in 1870, was pooled together by Washoe County authorities, the State of Nevada, the Central Pacific Railroad, and the ever-vigilant Wells-Fargo Express Company. Within hours, a multitude of individuals, from seasoned detectives to eager bounty hunters, were actively pursuing leads, determined to bring the criminals to justice. The first train robbery on the Pacific Coast had become a high-stakes game of cat and mouse, with the future of law and order in the West hanging in the balance.

The meticulously planned hold-up unfolded with theatrical precision. As the Overland Express chugged away from the Verdi station, five masked figures seamlessly boarded the moving train. Two of the bandits infiltrated the engine cab, confronting the engineer and fireman with the cold steel of their six-shooters. Resistance was futile; the engine was immediately surrendered. Another robber positioned himself on the front platform of the express car, while the remaining two secured the rear. The first train robbery on the Pacific Coast was underway.

Approximately half a mile east of Verdi, the engine’s whistle emitted a sharp, urgent blast – a signal to "down brakes." In this era before the advent of air brakes, the whistle served as a direct command to the brakemen stationed on the platforms of the passenger cars. Hearing the signal, they sprang into action, manually applying the brakes to slow the train. Simultaneously, the robbers on the express car severed the bell rope and decoupled the car from the rest of the train. With swift coordination, the engineer was then ordered to "give her steam," and the engine, along with the mail and express cars, lurched forward, leaving the passenger cars stranded on the tracks.

The engineer, initially resistant, found himself staring down the barrel of a pistol pressed against his temple. The choice was clear: comply or face deadly consequences. The fireman, thoroughly terrified, needed no further prompting. The engine roared to life, pulling the express car away from the rest of the train, leaving Conductor Marshall to discover the severed connection and the unsettling truth that his engine, mail, and express cars had vanished into the night. This first train robbery on the Pacific Coast showcased the vulnerability of even the most modern transportation systems.

The stolen engine and express car sped down the grade, heading towards a pre-determined location about four or five miles west of Reno. Here, a confederate had strategically placed an obstruction on the track, ensuring that the engineer couldn’t outsmart the robbers by running past the intended rendezvous point or attempting a daring escape. The robbers had meticulously considered every potential contingency, demonstrating a level of planning that bordered on the professional.

Once the engine screeched to a halt, a distinct knock echoed on the door of the express car. Inside, Frank Minchell, the Wells-Fargo messenger, cautiously inquired, "Who’s there?" The response, a simple "Marshall," was intended to deceive. As Minchell opened the door, expecting to see the conductor, he was instead met with the menacing sight of a double-barreled, sawed-off shotgun. Completely taken by surprise, Minchell surrendered without a struggle.

The robbers, after instructing Minchell to remain quietly in a corner, proceeded to toss the heavy Wells-Fargo sacks of gold, containing the stolen $41,000, out of the side door and into the surrounding brush. Thanking Minchell for his cooperation and expressing relief that they hadn’t been forced to resort to violence, the robbers shouldered their ill-gotten gains and vanished into the darkness, leaving the messenger shaken but unharmed.

Meanwhile, Conductor Marshall, aware of the potential danger, cautiously allowed his "headless" passenger train to drift slowly down the grade. Upon reaching the scene of the robbery, he found the engineer and fireman diligently clearing the obstruction from the tracks. The train was reassembled, and despite the interruption, it arrived in Reno a mere thirty minutes behind schedule, a testament to the resilience of the railroad and its personnel.

News of the robbery reached the Sheriff’s office in Washoe City, the county seat of Washoe County, at 8:00 a.m. The message, sent by C.C. Pendergast, the Wells-Fargo agent in Virginia City, falsely reported that the robbery had occurred between Truckee and Verdi and that the robbers were heading south. This initial misinformation would prove costly in the early stages of the investigation.

Sheriff Charley Pegg and his undersheriff immediately mounted their horses and took a shortcut through the mountains, believing that the robbers would attempt to reach Truckee, Carson City, or Virginia City. They assumed they could intercept the criminals along this route. However, after following the trail north for several miles and finding no evidence of recent passage, they returned to Washoe City, realizing they had been misled.

Despite the initial setback, the officers managed to catch Dwyer’s stage to Reno that evening. Upon arriving in Reno, the Deputy Sheriff discovered that Wells-Fargo detectives, railroad officials, and a posse of Reno citizens had spent the entire day pursuing a false lead. The investigation was starting from square one.

The next morning, the Washoe County officer returned to the robbery scene with a fresh horse. He carefully examined the ground and discovered a unique footprint, distinguishable from the others by its small heel, a style favored by gamblers and dandies of the era, rather than laborers or railroad employees. Recognizing the significance of this clue, the officer knew that following this track would lead him to at least one of the robbers.

After a thorough search, he located the small heel print, along with two larger ones, about a mile west of the robbery site. The tracks led north, indicating that the robbers had walked a considerable distance along the railroad ties to avoid being easily tracked. The officer followed the tracks up Dog Valley Creek and over Dog Valley Hill, where the snow made tracking easier, eventually leading him into Sardine Valley, California.

At the Sardine Valley House, the officer gained valuable information. Three strangers had stayed there the previous night. Two had left early in the morning, but the third remained in his room. A group of hunters from Truckee, led by James Burke, arrived at the house, heavily armed with shotguns. The stranger, mistaking them for law enforcement officers, fled out the back door and hid in the barn. A man from Truckee then arrived and reported the train robbery. The landlady, connecting the dots, told the hunters about the three men who had arrived late the previous evening, noting that one of them seemed particularly nervous and exhausted.

Although not an officer, James Burke decided to arrest the man in the barn, who turned out to be Gilchrist, a Virginia City miner with a previously clean reputation. This was likely his first foray into the world of train robbery. He was apprehended and taken to Truckee by the hunters. The first train robbery on the Pacific Coast was starting to unravel.

The landlady provided the Washoe County officer with a detailed description of the other two men, including their clothing. She noted that one of them wore "gambler’s boots." Based on her description of the other man, the officer correctly identified him as John Squiers, a seasoned stage robber whom Storey County officers had been trying to capture for years. Squiers was likely heading to Sierra Valley, where his honest blacksmith brother, Joe, resided, hoping to find refuge until the heat from the robbery subsided.

After resting and feeding his horse, the officer resumed the hunt. It was now 10:00 p.m., and snow was falling heavily. The officer was operating outside his jurisdiction and unfamiliar with the terrain. He needed a guide to lead him to Sierra Valley. A young boy volunteered to guide him as far as Webber Lake Junction for ten dollars, with the understanding that he would turn back if they encountered the robbers.

At about midnight, they arrived in the small town of Loyalton in Sierra Valley, California. The officer roused the landlord of the only hotel and inquired about any strange guests. The landlord mentioned one guest but said the description didn’t match the men being sought. The officer, however, insisted on seeing the man.

The landlord, either from the cold or the thought of a desperado in his hotel, hesitated but eventually provided a candle and directed the officer to room 14. The hotel was newly built, and the doors were swollen due to the damp weather, preventing them from being properly locked. The occupant of room 14 had placed a chair under the doorknob for security before going to bed.

The officer quietly made his way to room 14 and gently pushed the door open enough to remove the chair. Inside, the first thing he noticed was a boot with the distinctive small heel, the same heel that had left the tracks he had followed for miles.

After entering the room, the officer found the occupant sound asleep. He disarmed the man, removing a six-shooter from under his pillow, and searched his clothes, finding further evidence linking him to the robbery. Finally, he woke the man and placed him under arrest. The man, Parsons, a gambler from Virginia City, sprang from the bed like a wild animal but was quickly subdued.

On his way to Sierraville, California, the officer located John Squiers at his brother’s house. Knowing Squiers’ reputation, the officer decided to wait for him outside. As a man exited the kitchen door, heading to the barn to do the morning milking, the officer slipped inside and found Squiers asleep in one of the rooms. He disarmed Squiers without waking him, gathered his clothes and boots, and then roused him at gunpoint.

As Squiers was being apprehended, the man from the barn returned and was alerted to the situation. A commotion ensued, and the crowd grew agitated. The officer explained that he was arresting Squiers on suspicion of involvement in the train robbery. Squiers, recognizing the officer, argued that he had no authority to make an arrest in California.

The crowd, sympathetic to Joe Squiers, a respected citizen of the valley, began to side with the prisoner. Despite the escalating tension, the officer managed to rush Squiers into a waiting team and escape the crowd, eventually delivering both Squiers and Parsons to the jail in Truckee, where Gilchrist was already being held.

Upon arriving in Truckee, the officer telegraphed Nevada Governor H.G. Blasdel, requesting a requisition on California Governor Haight. The requisition arrived the next day, and the prisoners were transported back to Nevada, across the very railroad they had helped rob. While awaiting the requisition, Gilchrist, kept separate from the others, was interrogated and confessed everything, naming all the participants in the robbery.

Based on Gilchrist’s confession, telegrams were sent to Virginia City and Reno, leading to the arrests of "Jack" Davis and John Chapman, Sol Jones, Chat Roberts, and Cockerell. Within four days of the robbery, the entire gang had been apprehended, and most of the stolen money was recovered. Gilchrist revealed the location where the money had been hidden, explaining that the plan was to wait until the excitement died down before dividing the loot.

A grand jury was convened, indictments were issued, and the men were put on trial in December. All were convicted, except Gilchrist and Roberts, and sent to the Nevada State Prison on Christmas Day. The first train robbery on the Pacific Coast had come to a close.

The trial was a significant event in Nevada’s criminal history. Notable legal figures participated, including District Attorney W.M. Boardman, Attorney General Robert M. Clarke, and prominent lawyers representing Wells Fargo & Co. and the Central Pacific Railroad. The defense team included respected attorneys who argued for the innocence of the accused.

The primary legal battle centered on John Chapman, who was in San Francisco on the day of the robbery. His attorney argued that Nevada lacked jurisdiction in his case. To establish jurisdiction, the prosecution had to prove a conspiracy hatched in Nevada.

Gilchrist and Roberts, who were granted immunity for their testimony, testified that the robbery was planned at Chat Roberts’ ranch in Nevada, with Chapman present. They stated that Chapman was tasked with going to San Francisco to monitor the Wells Fargo shipment and sending a coded message to Sol Jones in Reno, who would then alert the other men waiting in a tunnel in the Peavine Mountains.

Sol Jones corroborated this testimony, explaining the meaning of the coded message: "Send me sixty dollars tonight without fail," signed "J. Enrique," which meant "Be on hand tonight without fail." Jones, who was promised a lighter sentence for his cooperation, was later sentenced to five years in state prison.

Chapman denied sending the telegram, but the Western Union operator from San Francisco testified that Chapman was the man who delivered it. Despite this, Chapman’s attorney maintained the lack of jurisdiction, citing a California case where a new trial was granted due to a lack of jurisdiction.

Attorney General Clarke countered this argument, and the Supreme Court ultimately ruled that the conspiracy was indeed concocted in Nevada, with Chapman present, and that sending the telegram from San Francisco was part of the same unlawful act that culminated in the train robbery in Nevada. The court concluded that Chapman was subject to Nevada’s jurisdiction.

The sentences for the convicted robbers ranged from five to 23 years, with Jones receiving the lightest sentence and Chapman and Squiers receiving the heaviest.

The imprisonment of these men effectively dismantled the stage-robbing industry in Nevada, as they were responsible for numerous Wells Fargo stagecoach robberies. Law enforcement had long suspected Davis and Squiers but had been unable to secure convictions due to a lack of evidence. Chapman was known to be a key figure in the robber gang.

Faced with increased security measures on the stagecoaches, Chapman and Squiers conceived the plan to rob a train. The plan was well-executed, but their downfall was the inclusion of inexperienced men like Gilchrist and Jones, who readily confessed under pressure.

All the convicted men served their sentences except Davis, who was pardoned after five years for assisting officers during a prison break. However, within a year of his release, he attempted to rob a stagecoach in White Pine County and was killed by a shotgun messenger.

The other robbers faded into obscurity after their release, except for Squiers, who was later convicted of jury fixing in California and served five years in San Quentin. He was later seen as a spectator at the Gans-Nelson fight in Goldfield.

Of the officers involved in the arrest and conviction of the train robbers, only the undersheriff, who followed the small footprints, remained alive at the time of the original article. He received most of the reward for his efforts. The first train robbery on the Pacific Coast was a landmark event, showcasing both the audacity of criminals and the determination of law enforcement in the Wild West.