Ghosts of the Old West living large in Tombstone

TOMBSTONE, Ariz. — They say ghosts walk the streets of this dusty desert town. It's easy to understand why.

With a name like Tombstone and a frenzied history of bloodshed, this Arizona outpost has a reputation that's ... well, haunted. And it doesn't help to see a dozen gunslingers die each day in the town's sandy red dirt.

The fights are staged, but Tombstone's checkered past is real. Tombstone, which advertises itself as "The Town Too Tough to Die," surprised me. So did the spirits of its past.

Nearly half a million people — many of them European — make their way each year to this wind-swept town, 60 miles southeast of Tucson. They come to relive the bittersweet pleasures of the frontier West in its three-block Old Town, where saloons outnumber restaurants, stagecoaches still rumble down the street, and locals often wear six-guns along with their Stetsons, kerchiefs and rawhide boots.

"It's amazing how many people here never grew past the age of 10 or 11," said local historian Hollis Cook. "They just keep on playing cowboy."

But in this town of Old West legend and fantasy, that's considered a plus.

Tombstone owes its notoriety to the media, particularly Hollywood, which immortalized it in more than a dozen sagebrush sagas, including the bloody 1993 film "Tombstone," starring Kurt Russell and Val Kilmer. Ronald Reagan, Burt Lancaster and Henry Fonda were among other actors who brought fame to the streets of Tombstone.

Information

Arizona state tourism office: www.arizonaguide.com or 866-275-5816.

The cinematic tales are based on the exploits of Wyatt Earp, who, with brothers Virgil and Morgan and comrade Doc Holliday, made history Oct. 26, 1881, in the gunfight at the O.K. Corral. When the 30-second fight was over, three of their adversaries — Frank and Tom McLaury and Billy Clanton — lay dead. Tombstone residents call it the most famous shootout in history.

Although that gunfight has garnered all the attention, it is only one of many deadly encounters that took place in a town where lawlessness often was the rule rather than the exception.

And modern Tombstone, which owes its livelihood to tourism, makes sure visitors take note: Stroll through the Boothill Cemetery, where graves are marked with narratives such as: "Margarita, Stabbed by Gold Dollar" and "Here lies Lester Moore, four slugs from a 44. No Les, No More." Or walk down Allen Street, where signs denote murder spots: "Curly Bill Brocius killed Marshal Fred White here on Oct. 28, 1880."

Given that so many of Tombstone's former inhabitants met a violent end, it's not surprising that shadowy tales of apparitions swirl on the desert wind.

"A lot of people came to live here 100 years ago and never left," said Bill Huntley, chuckling. "They're all still here, no doubt about it." Huntley, who has lived in Tombstone for 64 years, owns the Bird Cage Theatre, one of the few remaining original buildings in town. Some say the spirits of its bawdy past still celebrate there.

A parapsychology team from Duke University in Durham, N.C., studied Tombstone's haunted sites nearly half a century ago, Huntley said. Others have conducted paranormal studies since, including the History Channel, which recently released a DVD called "Haunted Tombstone."

Not everyone believes the stories. Historian Cook, for one, thinks they're nonsense: "I never saw anything that would make me believe in ghosts."

Carved out of Apache land, Tombstone began as a silver-mining strike in 1877. It was named by prospector Ed Schieffelin, whose friends had warned him that the only thing he'd find in the region was his own tombstone; he had the last laugh when he found silver.

By 1879, when the town was incorporated, miners, merchants, gamblers, prostitutes and pistol-packing cowboys had followed him.

The town mushroomed, burned, was rebuilt, burned and was rebuilt again. During its rootin'-tootin' heyday in the 1880s, it was one of the largest cities west of the Mississippi.

At one time, Tombstone was 10 blocks square; now three tidy blocks of Allen Street remain as the heart of Old Town. The street has been closed to traffic — which once created a logjam — and its cracked asphalt covered with packed sand for a more authentic look.

Watching the gunfights

Most tourists pop in for the day, swelling foot traffic on Allen Street's wide plank boardwalk and jamming into the O.K. Corral for the gunfight. Or visitors can catch one of six other gun battles staged in town throughout the day.

There's a well-maintained courthouse, now a state historic park, where hangings once took place, and small museums, gift shops, gun shops, costume and hat shops, many of which have lower prices than in Tucson. Cowboys and cowgirls are everywhere.

As in the past, there are plenty of places to slake a thirst. I wandered down Allen Street, stopping in at Big Nose Kate's Saloon, the Crystal Palace Saloon and, finally, the Dragoon Saloon, where I ran into mayor Andree DeJournett, who owns the friendly bar.

The mayor, a fast-talking former Michigan resident who has lived in Tombstone for three years, has big plans for his adopted town.

DeJournett, 45, likes to talk about his vision for Tombstone. "This place is alive and vigorous, but it's not easy juggling a town that's alive with a town that's history. It needs to improve its image."

The region is growing, with retirees and others moving in, he said, and prices are going up. Homes cost $175,000 to $275,000, "but you can still get four acres of land for under $75,000."

A man in a wide-brimmed hat joined us. Tex Culpepper was still armed and wearing the garb I'd seen him in earlier when he played Morgan Earp in the O.K. Corral re-enactment.

"Why do you do it?" I asked.

He grinned. "This is history. When I do this, it helps keep the West alive."

Real-life controversy is alive in this town of 1,700. The National Park Service put Tombstone on notice last year that its historic district could lose its status as a National Historic Landmark because of inaccuracies, such as fake facades, non-historic colors and bogus dates painted on newer buildings.

"People just come in, find an empty lot and build a new old building," said Cook. "It's a problem."

In September, a plan was drafted to save the landmark designation, including changing traffic patterns and adding trees to Allen Street. The town's progress will be reviewed in two years by the park service.

Ghostly stuff

Ok, what about the ghosts?

A bartender at Big Nose Kate's pointed to photos on the wall that he said showed apparitions and ghostly orbs. I squinted at the hazy black-and-white prints. I couldn't see them.

Other shop clerks told me they had heard, seen and smelled things. Cigar smoke. Lilac perfume. A rowdy crowd when no one was there. One told me about a mysterious man in black who frequently is seen late at night near the Crystal Palace.

At the Bird Cage Theatre, I struck pay dirt. Employee Bill Clanton — a descendant of O.K. Corral victim Billy Clanton — said he often heard things he couldn't explain coming from the onetime opera house and gambling hall, now a dusty museum.

"They're always moving around in there," Clanton said, pointing to the museum. "There's laughing and carrying on you can't explain. You can smell smoke around the dice table. I tell them, 'You leave me alone and I'll leave you alone.' "