The show down at the OK Corral….every kid (at least kids my age) has heard of it. It was immortalized in print and film. My favorite version is Tombstone with Kurt Russell, Sam Elliott, and Val Kilmer. So on this road trip through Arizona, I am determined to see the place for myself.

There may be more than three streets in Tombstone, but not many more. Parking is easy in a free lot near the Main Street. No traffic is allowed on the historic town center. Instead a stage coach makes an endless loop, carrying tourists back and forth. Costumed volunteers roam the streets with rifles and pistols, just to set the old West mood. Tombstone wears its past.

At the far end of the Main Street, a statue commemorates the miner who struck gold and put Tombstone on the map. A small park sits just beyond the OK corral. It boasts the only readily available public restrooms, so there is steady traffic in and out of the park. We apparently aren’t the only fools who drove miles into the desert to experience legends of the Old West. We also aren’t the only ones who are making a pit stop before exploring.

We decide to start at the place that is most associated with Tombstone. The OK corral, is a tiny lot that sits just beyond a stable. I don’t know what I pictured, but this is not it. The corral is so small that everyone involved in the shoot out would have been within twelve feet of each other. It would have been like shooting fish in a barrel. I am shocked. What actually happened here?

The admission to see the very, very small corral also came with a re-enactment show in a much larger outdoor theater. The actors were entertaining and although I can’t speak to accuracy, the drama set a mood. In Tombstone, the Earps are flawed heroes. (yeah!) The Clancy clan are the identified villains. (Boo!) The actors insist that you cheer on the good guys and shout down the bad guys. We even practice the heckling.

The actual historical record is a bit more complex, with undertones of cowboys vs miners, establishment vs personal freedom, law vs wild country, etc. Both the Earps and the Clancy wrestled for control and were accused of corruption, grifting, and vigilantism. Everyone looks pretty sketchy. But legends are only ever close approximations sprinkled with wishful thinking and baked in fond memories.

After the show, we walk by the corral once more. Here, mannequins stand in a close approximation to where the men stood during the shoot out. It is a miracle anyone survived. Kind of ridiculous that anyone would see this as heroic. There would be more room to maneuver on a city bus.

Next door to the corral is C.S. Fly’s photography studio. There are lots of Fly’s photos of the residents of Tombstone that gave rise to the legend. An adjacent building chronicles the life and times of local ladies of the night.

I have fun sitting in stable yard buggies. I even try to rope a fence post. My aim is good but the wrist snap needs work. It is easy to pretend it is still the 1880’s within this compound. But just outside, I know there is a whole street full of shops and bars and restaurants. The modern residents have to sell the past. The mines have long ago collapsed and nothing will grow. Tourists fund the local economy. I am okay with that.

We wander through shops selling souvenirs, antiques, and period clothing. My husband buys a vest like Sam Elliot wore in the movie. I can only approve of his choices. Lord have mercy.

Across the street, there is music playing and food being served. Off to Big Nose Kate’s we go. There is a long wait, but if we are willing to sit at a table of strangers we can bypass the line. Sounds like it is time to make new friends.

The historical Kate ran a dance hall and brothel and was the long term romantic partner of Doc Holiday. The modern Big Mose Kate’s is run by a retired New York cop. He stops by our table and shares his vision of a place filled with music and Old West Magic. He tells us repeatedly to have fun.

The owner flags us over to his “manager” who gives us western wear and props. The props include hats, scarves, a feather boa and a very real double barrel shot gun. Before I know what is happening, I am standing on a piano in a calico skirt and a boa with a bottle of whisky in my hand. In the next few minutes I look down the barrel of a very heavy shotgun and pose for what will be very funny and not very flattering photos. The owner is now satisfied that we are sufficiently having fun in his establishment. He is correct.

Turns out that if you see enough souvenirs they all start to look alike. And none of the other bars and restaurants can top our experience at Big Nose Kate’s. We stop at the historic newspaper office and pick up our free commemorative paper. Just in case I want to read the headlines about the OK corral, I know possess the replica.

I talk my husband into spending too much money to see the inside of the Bird Cage Theater. It was a notorious saloon, gambling hall, and brothel that sometimes operated as a theater. It was known for its lawless atmosphere, raucous entertainment, poker.

Today it is a junk heap. The place is dusty and run down. The stage is about as big as my dining room table. The place is full of filthy antiques. For almost twenty dollars a person, someone should dust.

I am disappointed. Tourist traps are sometimes just part of the experience. I did however find a good explanation of Faro at a gaming table in the basement. That cleared up a few gaps in my Old West knowledge so the experience wasn’t totally wasted.

As the sun was slowly going down, we ended our day on Boot Hill. It is far enough away from downtown that we saved it for the drive back to the campsite. Of course there is an admission fee, but this time it is reasonable and we get a guide to the graves. Each person has a story. A few are normal. Most are crazy by today’s standards. It is weirdly enjoyable to read about their lives.

There are the Mclaury’s and Clantons of OK corral fame. There is a lawman killed by Curly Bill. Children who drowned and died of disease make up more graves than I care to see. There are prostitutes and preachers side by side. Some people died by gun fights, fist fights, and falling off of horses. One guy fell off and was run over by his own wagon. There are former slaves, Chinese money lenders, Indians, Mexicans, and European immigrants. (Modern politicians who like to pretend the “real” America was homogenous have clearly never been to Tombstone.)

Eventually we make it down all the roles and exhaust all the stories. Tombstone is the land of Old West stories. It is fitting we ended the day here. It has been a lot of silly fun, and yet here I am confronted with the reality of struggle and corruption and hardship. Tombstone was gritty and rough. While that kind of reality makes a great movie, it certainly wouldn’t have made a great life. Something to think about as we drive the long desert road back to the rv.