Deadwood

I love old cemeteries. First there are the names. Some names like John or Sarah could easily come right out of the White Pages today. That is if anyone still uses the White Pages. Then there are the names like Almeria or Delbert that really have the ability to take you back in time. Last year I visited the Sleepy Hollow Cemetery and saw an enormous tomb on a hillside. Etched into the stone, right above the door, was the family name – Graves. Appropriate, yes? And, as if that wasn’t enough, located in that same cemetery was a very extensive family plot where all of the headstones shared one last name, Coffin. I’m not making this up, people. I have pictures to prove it.

But, before I ever even look at the names, I notice special designs or unusual shapes of the markers. And, as a mom, a small headstone right beside a big one grabs my immediate attention. Cemeteries allow my imagination to go wild. I can see the people and hear their stories as I wander past looking for something to catch my eye.

Mt. Moriah Cemetery, in Deadwood, South Dakota, is famous for some of its occupants, including James Butler Hickock and Martha Jane Burke. If you’re not sure who I’m talking about you might know them better by their nicknames, Wild Bill and Calamity Jane. There are tour buses that come all the way up the steep hillside from town just so tourists like us can see their graves.

The town of Deadwood is exactly the type of Wild West town that brings masses of tourists together. It’s set in the beautiful Black Hills, is well maintained, and has a bunch of casinos for anyone looking to help support the town by leaving behind a large pile of cash.

But, for me, the cherry on top is what happens on Main Street several times a day. A group of actors reenacts the murder of Wild Bill. For free. We wander into Saloon #10 at 5pm for one of these shows. I have to admit, I’m impressed. Not only does the actor portraying Wild Bill fit the part perfectly, but from the moment he first opens his mouth, he spins a tale that captures the interest of every person in the room. I watch my child hang on each word. And, it’s not short. He gives a monologue about his life and the history of Deadwood for at least fifteen minutes before the action begins and he’s facedown on the table, cards still in hand. Stone. Cold. Dead.

1876. That’s the year gold was first discovered and Deadwood went from zero to 10,000 people overnight. Since then they’ve done a good job keeping their little town alive and well by separating tourists from their dollars.

One shop in particular gets most of our money. It’s at the very edge of town, far enough that you need to drive, but let me tell you, it’s well worth the trip. Mr. C, my little chocoholic, will be talking about this shop for years to come. The Chubby Chipmunk. Housemade truffles that are everything a truffle should be. We leave the shop significantly poorer than when we arrive, but with the taste of quality chocolate still melting in our mouths.

If I ever get the chance to return to the Black Hills, I would stay in Deadwood for a couple of nights. Yes, it’s touristy and Main Street is lined with an abundance of shops selling t-shirts and shot glasses, but it does have charm. And, I’m pretty sure most of us aren’t looking for complete authenticity anyway. We want the sanitized version of the Wild West. We want to feel like we’ve been transported back in time, but without giving up any modern comforts. We want running water, air conditioning, and the thrill of watching Wild Bill get shot from behind three times a day.

It took Wild Bill three weeks to travel by wagon train from Cheyenne to Deadwood. In that same amount of time, we’re crossing the entire country and spending a week in the state of South Dakota alone. I’ll keep my modern comforts, thank you very much. Truffles, anyone?