The Reluctant Advanced Technologists
May 18, 2012
Voluntary Masochist
June 1, 2012
Today’s posting is an essay I wrote for the local newspaper’s Thursday edition which came out yesterday. Brings back all sorts of great childhood memories. Enjoy!!
Word Count: 896
Silverton’s Ultimate
Childhood Obsession
A lot of kids between the ages of about two and ten become fascinated with one thing or another. More than a few of my friends who have children that age often complain to me that their kid, or kids, have watched a favorite Disney movie on DVD at least seven or eight times, minimum. Sometimes so many viewings that the parent can describe exact scenes from the motion picture or recite specific segments of dialogue verbatim.
The parent’s worst nightmare is being trapped in a 10’ x 10’ utility shed; their eyes pried wide open, and having to view the same kid-flick over and over again till the day after Armageddon. The child wants to watch their favorite celluloid masterpiece multiple times, and only demands one other thing. Regular visits to a certain fast food restaurant that super sizes some of its products.
My childhood obsessions were many, although one of them was a summertime fascination specifically unique to Silverton-the Tourist Gunfights. During the late 60’s the town’s western reenactments went through what some would consider their golden age. Performances were often elaborate, grandiose, and very bombastic. This was due entirely to the mini-plays becoming an integral part of the town’s never-ending attempts to promote tourism. Sort of like the way things are in the present. Only now days we argue about the shape of trash cans and benches.
My father’s regular routine back in my youth was to leave the family grocery store ten minutes before the train chugged its way into town. Race to the our residence on Greene St. where my sisters and I would be patiently waiting on the stoop with baited breath, me of course with my trusty six shooters, boots, and hat on. Followed by all of us jumping into the back of the truck and barreling over to Blair Street. Right on time to grab a front row seat for that day’s gunfight extravaganza.
Since there was only one train in those days, a single gunfight occurred. Just like the western plays now days they had a melodramatic plot line. Only in the case of the reenactments back in the 60’s, part of it took place on top of various buildings. This included one of the outlaw actors being gunned down from the roof and rolling back to the street after he’d been shot. For a seven-year-old kid witnessing this particular phase of the action, it was analogous to an astronomy buff viewing a total Eclipse for the first time. One can safely assume that flies would’ve had easy, unencumbered access to the back of my throat during that particular phase of the proceedings.
Following the gunman’s dramatic fall to earth, an old time doctor would come sauntering out onto the street, pull out various instruments from his little black bag, and begin to examine the victim. Using an old time stethoscope he’d check for a heartbeat. Listen in on the guy’s breathing with his over sized horn, and administer strategic blows to various parts of the body. If the guy was dead, which usually happened 100% of the time-the victim being an outlaw which had a lot to do with this extremely high percentage, the doctor would yell for an undertaker. Suddenly a black box would appear out of nowhere and the fallen desperado would be picked up and dumped into it. Truth, justice, and the righteous cowboy way had triumphed once again. Everyone cheered wildly.
The crowd ate it up, as did my sisters and I who’d witness the action on the average of four times a week for twelve weeks during the summer. Did we ever grow tired of observing the same thing, with slight variations to the theme each and every time out? Of course not.
Then things really got explosive during one particular summer. Merchants from Greene St. decided they wanted to compete with the gunfight on Blair by carrying out their own mock western play complete with a real life honest-to-goodness hanging. The first week these dueling gunfights took place I was like a kid trapped overnight in a candy store. None of us could decide which gunfight we preferred. The guy falling off the roof on Blair, or the desperado being hung on Greene?
That decision was made for us when fisticuffs between competing merchants on Blair and Greene Sts. resulted in the city cop shooting his gun into the air and putting a stop to the proceedings. Three days later the town council decided to cut off the town gunfights entirely. Luckily this end to the action wasn’t as big an emotional blow to me as I thought. I’d moved onto other adolescent obsessions, so a halt to the action didn’t damage my psyche for life like I thought it might.
Many years later we see a reincarnated version of the Western Melodrama. Although slightly less dramatic than the guy falling off the roof, today’s version is still lots of fun for families. Clamoring to witness a piece of Western Americana brought back to life in front of their very eyes.
Would I ever consider acting in one of these extravaganzas? One of the merchants who’s an actor in the gunfight actually asked me if I’d be interested in performing in today’s version. Naaah, I’d rather just stand off to the sidelines and think of ways to write about them.
