I’d like to believe that there is a bit of Shane in me – a man who covers his wounds, sits tall in the saddle, and rides off into the setting sun, never to return once his task is complete. But much like Alan Ladd my character is somewhat less in stature than the saddle tramp I often portray. So if some affable soul were to request a curtain call, I’d probably turn my pony around and head back into town - especially if there was a decent saloon at trail’s end. In the case of Virginia City, Nevada I have been doubly blessed. There are an abundant supply of kind and generous people that have welcomed and embraced both me and my wife.  And it just so happens that there is also an ample supply of barrooms, bedecked in the vernacular of the old west, strategically located throughout this fair city. Having just returned from our third visit, we thought it only proper to dedicate an issue of American Public House Review to the people and places that call this narrow stretch of the Virginia range home. Although it sits atop the vast mineral treasures of the famed Comstock Lode, the real wealth of Virginia City lies above ground in the houses, the haunts and the hearts of its citizens.