Talking To A Ghost

I woke up to a weird blue morning sky.  Mornings are what photographers call blue hours and evenings, golden hours.  Although I expected spectacular sunrise colors, they never showed up.  I knew the winds were coming, which is normally enough to keep me home.  For some crazy reason, I had it in mind to do some ghost talking.

But first off, I needed fuel.  This was going to be a long drive.  Yup I really am in Arizona where diesel is now $4.50 a gallon.  That's almost double what it was before you-know-who took over.  It's going to put a big dent in my travels I think since it cost me $67.00 just to make this trip for pictures.

My first stop was Dragoon.  This old grocery/merchandise store that was falling down has been purchased by RV'ers.  Last year I found a crew piping water under the building, then sucking out all the mud and dirt that had accumulated over the years.  It now has a new porch and brand new doors.  Too bad the roof is caving in.  

They tried to cover it with tarps, but with the Arizona wind, they weren't doing much good.  Around back two RV's are parked.  I'm envious that's not me.  LOVE the American flag however!!

On I went for over an hour, finally finding my destination.  I've read six different directions on how to get here, none of which were correct, so I felt lucky when I saw the sign.  THIS is the grave of Johnny Ringo.

Most everything known about Johnny Ringo is either inaccurate or fabricated to sell books.  What we do know is he was born in Indiana in 1850 and was unfortunately at 14 years of age, the witness to his father's demise by shotgun when he got down off their wagon.  Although he supposedly went to college and was well versed in the classics (like Doc Holliday), he actually never finished grade school.

Somewhere along the line he was involved in the Texas Range War where he most likely killed a man or two.  He first turned up in an Arizona bar in Stafford in 1878 where he offered a free whiskey to the man next to him.  Louis Hancock declined, saying he preferred beer, so Ringo hit him over the head with his pistol, then shot him in the neck.  Surprisingly, Louis lived.  I guess Ringo had anger issues.

This is the movie version ... a pretty good match.  Interestingly enough, the above Johnny Ringo is a dead ringer for an old friend of mine named Jan ... a rodeo bull rider who was pretty mean, probably because HE was named Jan.  

Johnny was able to bond himself out of jail, but was scheduled to appear before the Grand Jury in March of 1880.  Not wanting to go back to jail, he wrote the Sheriff a letter.  Weird, right?  He probably could have just disappeared.  He stated his reason for not being able to show up was because he got shot in the foot and could not travel.  

Apparently the problem was resolved, as he ended up a delegate to the Pima County Democratic Convention and served as an election official in San Simon near the Mexican border.  It turns out the election was a complete fraud and was investigated by U.S. Deputy Marshall Wyatt Earp, which is how he got on Wyatt's bad side.

After walking down the chain link surrounded pathway, I arrived at the site of Johnny Ringo's grave.  All this is thanks to the property owner who got tired of people knocking on his door.  If you go there, this is all private property, so please be respectful ... and watch for rattlesnakes.

By early 1881, Johnny was best friends with the Clanton group, mostly because they were hard drinking "cowboys" making a big profit on stolen cattle.  Although it is said he was at the OK Corral shootout, he was actually proven to be in California visiting his sisters, a staunch Methodist family who resoundingly disowned him, leading him to drink even more.

Back in Arizona, now in a small mining town named Galeyville near the Chiricahua Mountains, he got in an argument over a poker game.  He was losing and asked to borrow money from the guy who beat him, so he could continue to play.  The guy said no, so Ringo and his buddy Dave Estes, came back to steal $500 and a horse.  

In November of 1881, Johnny was indicted and brought back to Tombstone by his Deputy Sheriff buddy Bill Breakenridge, no friend of the Earps.  He pled guilty, but since no one showed up to testify against him, he was released on bond.  Although Wyatt insisted Johnny Ringo was in on the Virgil Earp ambush, there really was no proof.  Johnny did get into a shouting match with Wyatt and Doc on January 17, 1882 about the stagecoach robbery Doc had been accused of.  All three were arrested for having weapons in town, but Wyatt being a Marshal, didn't have to pay the $30 fine.  

On January 20, 1882, he was rearrested for his still outstanding bond in Galeyville.  That's when he learned Wyatt's group was heading to Charleston to arrest the Clantons.  Good old Sheriff Behan let Johnny out of jail before his actual new bond had been posted so he could head straight to Charleston to warn the Clantons.

By now, Morgan Earp had been shot and killed, prompting Wyatt and his posse to take after them, whereupon he killed Frank Stillwell at the train station in Tucson.  That sent Sheriff John Behan out with a posse, which included Johnny Ringo, chasing after the Earps.  Wyatt and HIS posse caught up with Curly Bill Brocius, Johnny Ringo's good friend, in the Whetstone mountains, killing him.  After that, the Earps headed to New Mexico and Colorado where they had friends in high places.

In May of 1882, Ringo was back in Tombstone for his Galeyville robbery arraignment, whereupon he was released with no charges.  After a big day of heavy drinking in Antelope Springs, he headed off to Sulphur Springs for more whiskey.  He was not seen again until July 14, 1882, when he was found sitting under this tree above with a gunshot to his temple.  After an official coroner's report, he was buried just a few feet from the tree on Turkey Creek.  So here he lies.  Talk to me Johnny!

His death was ruled a suicide since the gun was in his hand and his rifle propped up against the tree.  He had pieces of his torn shirt over his feet.  It would appear he took his boots off for some reason and tied them to his saddle, whereupon the horse got spooked and took off.  

 No one really believes the Earps or Doc would have made it look like a suicide.  They would have just shot him and rode away.  His horse was found several days later about two miles away with his boots still tied to the saddle.  

It's a mystery for sure ... did he kill himself or did someone do it for him, or maybe it was just a drunken accident.  He was 32 years old.  This nice pond sits right behind the grave site as Turkey Creek trickles down the hill.  I talked to Johnny for awhile, but he was not in the mood for conversation.  Hey, might as well give it a shot!

This would have been his last view, minus the fence of course.  And there you have it, the life and times of Johnny Ringo, intricately entwined with the Earps clan for eternity.  Probably not something he really wanted.

I said goodby and headed back down the 4.4 miles of good dirt road at 30 mph before hitting pavement.  I made a few detours on the way back home, the wind thrashing me the entire way.  Since this turned out so long and drawn out, I'll post the rest of the story tomorrow.  

No, Johnny never said a word to me.