Thursday, May 06, 2004

May 6, 2004
“A Google search of Wyatt Earp yields 112,000 hits. Not bad for a dead guy.” That quote is from a press release touting an upcoming auction of John Gilchriese items. Gilchriese is notorious and ended up with Wyatt’s bible, the utensils Earp ate his last meal with (in plastic bags, of course) and a scrap book of Tombstone original 1880s business cards that includes all of the icons: The Oriental Saloon, Eagle Brewery, O.K. Corral, etc. Plus photos of Earp never before published. How do I know this? I sat at Gilchriese’s dining room table and looked (no, I gaped) at them, albeit briefly, as John was famous for showing you something and as your bottom jaw sank to your chest he would pull it away, saying, “That’s enough! The guy was a bum. Here’s something else. . .”

Best book title in a loon’s age: “The Bases Were Loaded (And So Was I)” a confessional baseball writer’s story, by Tom Callahan.

I’m sorry about the photos from the Bootheel-Border Roll not being posted in a timely manner. We had technical problems and Gus rescanned them this morning. They should be up by tomorrow morning. To boot we have been on deadline dealing with all the last minute changes to the book (for some reason, in the magazine publishing biz, a magazine is sometimes inexplicably referred to as “the book”).

Penelope Cruz and Salma Hayek are in pre-production on an updated Spaghetti Western which now has a working title: “Banditas.” Ay-yi-yi! I’m there. So is Melrose, who has been picking up beautiful women lately with an unlikely line. There is this stunning masseuse out here in Cave Creek. She is a total headturner, looks like a cross between Barbie Benton and Betty Paige. Mike was backstage at the Don Edwards-Waddie Mitchell concert last weekend, he walks up to the bar, sees Ms. Masseuse and says, “Excuse me, do you have a subscription to True West?” They had “lunch” yesterday. I’ll keep you posted on the wedding.

“We Americans are a peculiar people. We are for the underdog no matter how much of a dog he is.”
—A. B. Chandlert

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