for themselves and their city. They established churches,nerected schools, formed fraternal organizations, openednstores, voted funds for a town library; some even met to readneach other their literary endeavors.nTombstone’s day in the economic sun was brief. In 1886nthe mines, which were down about 500 feet, began to flood,nand gradually they shut. In 1901 there was a resurgence ofnmining activity as better pumps were able to handle thenwater, but the deeper the mines went, the greater thenproblem. By 1911 the bonanza was over.nThereafter, as the business activity of the town movednever slower, there was more time for talk, for remembering,nfor reminiscing. The economy might be anemic, but thenlegends improved with age. The heroes and villains ofnthe old-timers’ stories — the Earps, the Clantons, thenMcLowrys — had moved away or else had died, and thusnthere were few participants still in Tombstone to contradictnthe accounts and anecdotes that were told and retold,nembellishments growing on each like desert flowers on ancactus after a rain.nThere was “Rotten Row,” thafpart of town inhabited bynTombstone’s legal fraternity, and there was the “TenderloinnDistrict” wherein lived Blonde Marie, French Lil, NoseynKate, Lizette the Flying Nyhiph, and a host of others. Andnwho could forget China Mary, who sold cheese, Chinesenfoods, imported knickknacks, and opium, and who wasnwidely famous for her generosity to miners down on theirnluck? Tombstone could even celebrate an 1884 lynching,nwhen it seemed justice had miscarried; a mob broke into thenjail and hanged the miscreant from a telegraph pole, and thencoroner declared his death resulted “from emphysema ofnthe lungs — a disease common in high altitudes.” Yes,nTombstone had a host of memories, but that was coldncomfort to a town that was dying, that would, in fact, havenjoined the ranks of other ghost towns in the West had it notnbeen the seat of Cochise County.nThen in 1928 one old-timer, a deputy sheriff named BillynBreakenridge, published Helldorado and received nationalnattention for the stories he told about lawlessness in then”good old days.” This book caused some residents to decidento try to lure visitors with a “pioneer” celebration. InnOctober of 1929 they staged “Helldorado Week.” This tooknplace during the week of October 26, the date of the famedngunfight at the OK Corral between the town thugs, thenEarp brothers and their cohorts, and the country thugs, thenClantons and the McLowrys. Nineteen twenty-ninenseemed an appropriate year to begin this celebration, for itnwas the 50th anniversary of the founding of the town.nSeveral blocks of the old business district were roped offnfor Helldorado Week. Twenty Yuma Indians with varyingndegrees of musical talent were imported to serve as then”Helldorado Band.” Dressed in gaudy, feathered PlainsnIndian headbonnets, Navajo shirts, and Hopi turquoisenjewelry, they smiled and played as their conductor used ansix-shooter for a baton.nThe parade consisted of covered wagons, buggies, andnbuckboards with women and children dressed in relics fromntrunks and attics. There were prospectors and cowboys innbeards, flannel shirts, high-heeled boots, and broadbrimmednhats, all carrying sufficient hardware for severalnwars.nDaily there was a daring holdup of the stage followed by ancharge of a sheriff’s posse to interrupt the robbery. Thisnended in a heroic gun battie in which the forces of goodntriumphed. Another daily feature was the killing of anprospector by a drunken desperado and his prompt lynchingnby a righteous mob. And the Bird Cage Theater and thenCrystal Palace resounded in the evenings as of old with skitsnand blackouts — and whiskey flowing briskly.nFree entertainment during Helldorado Week includednbaton twirling, fancy shooting, boxing, wrestling, and openairndances, while a carnival that had come to town providednsideshows, fortune-telling, and bearded ladies.nThe highlight of the celebration was a reenactment of thenGunfight at the OK Corral. And the next day everyonencould read the details in the Epitaph, which during this weeknonce again became a daily paper.nOne old-timer who came back for the celebration wasnJohn Clum, the founding editor of the Epitaph. Henviewed the celebration in company with aging rancher BillynFourr. As they discussed what was transpiring, they agreednthat they had no idea what the word “Helldorado” meant,nbut from the cover on the program and the literaturenassociated with the event, they concluded it meant somethingn”lurid — and alluring.”nClum later wrote that he and Fourr failed to find in thenpresentation “any semblance of the youthful Tombstone wenhad known so well.” In fact, as Clum noted, in Tombstone’sn50-year history there had been only one gun battle on thencity’s streets. In 1881, the year when most of the excitementnhad occurred, only six men had met a violent death withinnthe city’s limits, and the lynching party of 1884 had beennorganized in the town of Bisbee, not Tombstone.nClum was incensed by Helldorado Week. “Criminals andncrime existed in Tombstone during those so-called ‘hecticndays’ when it was a booming mining camp,” he wrote. “Butndissipation and disorder and lawlessness and murder werennot the chief occupations of the citizens of Tombstone whennI was a resident there in the early ’80s—although thatnimpression was emphatically conveyed by the high spots innthe Helldorado publicity and the Helldorado program. Thisnis not fair simply because it is not true.”nFourr likewise was incensed, asking Clum, “Don’t younremember that away back there in 1881, when you werenmayor, the men seldom grew anything but a mustache, andnthere was a city ordinance forbidding anyone but a peacenofficer to carry firearms within the city limits?”n”Well, Billy,” Clum replied, “you must remember thatnwe were not giving a HELLDORADO show away backnthere in 1881.”nIn 1929 the citizens of Tombstone were fortunate thatnHelldorado Week was a success as entertainment if not asntruth, for that same year the residents of Cochise Countynvoted to move the county seat to Bisbee.nAlso fortunately for Tombstone, Billy Breakenridge’snsuccess spawned other literary efforts. Walter Noble Burnsnproduced Tombstone, in which he began erecting thenpedestal on which Stuart Lake would place Wyatt Earp:nFrontier Marshall. This piece of fiction gave the public anhero, a Galahad, a pasteboard character fit to take the lead innthat uniquely American morality play, the Western. HisnnnFEBRUARY 1989/9n