Howdy Boys,

 

Located some 130 years south of Fort Worth, on the old Chisholm Trail, is the fictitious cattle town of Marrow Bone Springs, Texas. About 5-6 times a year, a round-up of lawmen, tinhorns, gunslicks, cowpokes, and other frontier types brings this town to life. We all take a step back in time to the good ol' days of the Old West. Back when law came in .45 caliber and Col. Colt made us all equal.

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Our little "Boom Town" is complete with 29 buildings, including two saloons, a boarding house and café, Merchants Bank, the church, general store, and jail. Two cells, no waiting. These ain't just store fronts, but each building is furnished, inside and out. We leave all our modern conveniences behind for a Friday, Saturday, and Sunday to live as our great-grandparents did with kerosene lamps and wood burning stoves.

 

Everyone uses their imagination to develop a character and comes to interact. (This ain't no "fastest gun" convention-so we each have to come up with an alternative career.) This is our chance to be law dog or outlaw, road agent or wrangler, barber, barkeep or barroom gambler.    This is our chance to see what it might have really been like- not just for a 15 minute show, but for 24 hours a day. 

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There are no scripts to follow, so whatever role a person chooses, we ask them to pay close attention to authentic details to add to their enjoyment of the weekend, and also to ours. In reenacting any era, we all live for those moments when we question what year it really is. We hope to create an entire weekend of just such moments. Often at reenactments, folks tend to revert to the 19th century only when the public comes around. We ain't got no public, 'ceptin' ourselves, so we "become" our alter egos, for real. Everyone plans on coming to our town of Marrow Bone Springs in character. Marrow Bone is fairly wide-open town, so aliases are common, in fact, are expected.

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Each time we get together is different, depending on what is planned by those folks ramrodding the event. We have had mayoral elections, talent shows, poker tournaments, horse races, Centennial celebration, cowboy competitions, boxing, traveling thespians, Indian raids, a Civil War reunion & snake oil salesmen.

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Usually on Saturday evening, we have a steak dinner we serve (hopefully) before dark, followed by a night at the Empty Pocket Saloon and Gaming Hall (We Pay and We Pay Big!) or at the Gem Billiard Hall and Saloon. Games of chance include poker, faro, chuck-a-luck, Hazard, and roulette. Saturday and Sunday mornings, breakfast will be served when the restaurant owners and/or cooks get up. Sunday morning we don our Sunday go-to-meetin' clothes and head for church. Reverend Brimstone tells us of salvation and to repent from our wayward ways at our Sunday service. God's Word is the same, yesterday, today, and forever.

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This is not sponsored by a specific group of desperadoes, but is rather a collection of individuals dedicated to the memory of the Old West. Hands of several outfits attend, and if someone cain't leave their 21st century affiliations behind, best they stay on their home range. It is our version of an Old West fraternity and all folks are here by invitation only. To get an invite, a citizen of Marrow Bone must put his neck on the line, vouching for your character and dedication to the Old West. Then each of these waddies rounds up his sixgun and his personals, stashes 'em in his warbag with his clothes, grabs his bedroll (quilts and blankets) and heads for the Springs.

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So far, saddle tramps from 11 different states have headed this way, at one time or another. Hotel space and space at the bar are limited, so not just any drifter is invited, and we always expect to have a finer than frog hair time. These round-ups may not amount to anything fancy, but usually a good time is had by all. Just talking about it gets me to hankering to strap on my shooting iron, saddle up ol´ Dollar, and head back in time, down to Marrow Bone Springs.

 

Hope to see you down the trail,

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Doc