Bisbee, Arizona:

Reliving the past in the Wild West Town of Tombstone

Story by Jane Cassie

Pictures by Brent Cassie

They saunter into the scene, four abreast, and finely dressed in Stockton coats and wide-brimmed Stetsons. Three of them clutch six shooters, the other a shotgun. Beads of sweat trickle down their cheeks over taught, tense muscles as they proceed toward their armed targets. Their steely eyes remain riveted. Leather-lined faces are grim. The pressure is mounting. Over the next thirty seconds, both groups erupt with stormy fusillade. When the gun smoke clears, one man has fled and only one of the others walks away unscathed.

For us, there’s no better place to get in touch with your cowboy spirit than the western town of Tombstone, Arizona, where this famous gunfight at the O.K. Corral, is reenacted every day. Although more than a century has passed since the Earp brothers and Doc Holliday battled it out with the McLaury and Clanton outlaws, we are enthralled by this realistic revival that helps keep America’s Wild West alive.

In spite of all its past bloodshed, this historical hamlet has long since been deemed a town “Too Tough To Die.” It acquired its symbolic appellation when prospector, Ed Scheiffelin, was told that all he would discover by mining the nearby hills would be Apache attacks followed by his tombstone. Ironically, instead of being riddled by silver tipped arrows, his pockets were lined with a mother lode of the glittering ore. The rush was soon on and, wanting to keep the legend alive, Ed decided that ‘Tombstone’ would be a most befitting title. Although the mining has long since dwindled in these parts, the commemoration of its historical roots continues to live on today.

We stroll the dusty boardwalks where spurs replace sandals and lace blends with leather. Gals gussied up in crinolines and corsets flirt with bow-legged wranglers sporting chaps and bandanas. Weary-eyed mules share hitching posts with palominos and appaloosas, and their weatherworn riders look like the real McCoy. It’s a setting that John Wayne, Gene Autry, or the Cisco Kid would feel right at home in and, although dressed in trendy enough city duds, we feel like the ones out of place at this 1800s fashion fair.

“Tombstone’s a combination of Halloween and the Twilight Zone,” the M.C., alias Law Dawg, says in jest to the crowd. Helldorado is just one of the shoot ‘em up action-packed stunt acts that we get a chuckle out of during the day. The backdrop of cactus hills and craggy mountains is an pristine setting to the western town façade where guns become a blazin’ and slap stick is as corny as it gets. As always, we cheer for the good guy and boo to the bad, all of who are at least one brick short of a load, and none too sharp a shooter.

As well as other attractions, Tombstone’s main artery of Allen Street is clogged with historical haunts that remind us of its raucous and colorful past. We exchange our modern day automobile comfort for an authentic stagecoach jaunt, and the replica, pulled by a pack of Clydesdales, ushers us back to an unhurried era. We’re reminded that these wagon-wheeled buggies, were the primary mode of transportation in the 1800s, and passengers often traveled for hundreds of miles with only fifteen inches of seating space to claim. “Hardly like the modern day pleasures,” Brent jokes, as we jostle in time to the clip-clop of the horses’ hoofs. “No perks like heaters or air conditioning, and our modern day road rage would be a walk in the park compared to the attacks from or vigilantes and Indians.”

We rumble past the Epitaph newspaper, where its original printing press is displayed, and slow down to check out demonstrations of the hard rock drilling, a process that was once profitable for Ed Scheflien and his prospector pals. The stylish Cochise County Courthouse is also worth a Kodak moment. Officers of the law had manned the well-used jail here during more turbulent times, and, today, its rehabilitated courtroom shares space with historical exhibits and thousands of artifacts that tell tales of long ago.

Spirited beverages once flowed freely from nearly a hundred saloons in this “hey day” town and the still standing Crystal Palace was known to be one of its finest. Due to its sophisticated décor, polished service, and reputation for honest gambling, it was the favorite hangout for Tombstone’s more prominent citizens. While the distinguished sipped fine liqueurs out of sparkling crystal, the hearty party crowd congregated down the street at the wildest and wickedest cabaret for miles around. The Bird Cage Theatre acquired its signature from the fourteen suspended crib-like compartments where ladies for hire proudly displayed their goods. Poker games were another drawing card to this lusty den of iniquity and the bullet holes that still pit its walls today remind us that it was a hot spot for a number of gunfights as well.

 www.tombstone.org