Deadwood South Dakota and Mount Rushmore

To my dear friend and confidant, Satya, this article is dedicated to your memory. Miss you, dude.

This entire article is reconstructed from my memories of the summer of 1992. Yes, many fond and painful memories persist in my head for decades. Why would I write a travelogue from so long ago?

There are several reasons for this. One is to simply relive those times. This was a trip I made with my late best friend and his then-girlfriend. Tragically, my friend lost his battle to cancer, and this is my way of thanking him for all the great times we had together.

Also, despite the fact that Rushmore is well-known and photos of the mount with the carvings of the notables are plentiful, the area does not attract tourists from outside the US. Particularly tourists from overseas. Most tourists from other countries prefer to go to the big cities to enjoy the experiences that our country has to offer.

I feel privileged to have had such a unique experience that I recall so vividly. It may never have happened had I not gone to school in Denver. Unfortunately, it was a time before the internet existed in its present glory. Cellphones were yet to come, and only ardent photographers (not students like us) carried cameras. I have no photos of the trip and will have to borrow the great photos from some contributors of Wikipedia Commons. The memories and words, however, are my own.

We decided to make the trip a week before, traveling from Denver, where we attended college, to South Dakota, in my friend’s new Camry. As we entered Dakota and passed small towns, the signs indicated that some towns had populations that ranged from 1 to around 70. Both my best friend and I had come from India, one of the most populous countries on the planet, and found such minuscule populations baffling.

We drove through the Rockies, the Black Hills in South Dakota, with gorgeous views of the mountains and vegetation.

James St. John, CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0, via Wikimedia Commons

We finally arrived, about 8 hours later, that evening in Deadwood, South Dakota, which looked like the old west town that it used to be.

Deadwood, South Dakota

Carol M. Highsmith, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Deadwood is a legendary town with many tales that are based partly in reality and partly in myth. Two of Deadwood’s most prominent personalities of the past are Wild Bill Hickok and Calamity Jane. Hickock was a farmer and lawman and one of the quickest guns of his time.

Calamity Jane, a contemporary of Hickok, was also a gunslinger like him. She was a storyteller and allegedly a former prostitute. Both Hickock and Jane have been the subjects of several folk tales, myths, and have been subjects of movies and books.

On August 2nd, 1876, Hickock met with death when James McCall, a gambler humiliated by Hickock, shot the latter from behind when Hickock was playing a card game. Calamity Jane was allegedly one of the witnesses to this murder.

McCall faced two trials, the first at the hands of an informal miner’s jury, where he was acquitted, and later in Yankton where he was sentenced and then hanged for his deeds.

The evening when we landed in South Dakota, we attended the ‘Trial of Jack McCall–Dinner Show’ at the Dinner theater for a reenactment of McCall’s first trial. It was an unforgettable show.

This play included audience interaction. Some members of the audience were picked to join the ‘Jury’ to pronounce a verdict on McCall. As the play got started, the judge asked one of them, “What do you do, sir?”. “I drive a truck” was one reply. “So you ride a stagecoach, eh?” The judge retorted.

Similarly, the ‘judge’ adapted each of the ‘jury”s vocations to vocations that existed in the 1800s. The play will stay in my mind as another reminder of Deadwood and my long-departed buddy. It was getting dark when we stepped out after the play.

The night crept in, and Deadwood became a surreal place. It felt as if we were walking in the night, on a street from the old west, minus the guns. Casinos and stores seemed to spring up, and like the rest of the tourists, we went Casino hopping. Each of them served complementary drinks, mostly shots with squid or calamari. We gambled a bit and imbibed quite a bit more.

The magical day ended, and we spent the night in a forgettable motel.

DXR, CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0, via Wikimedia Commons

The following day, we went on a guided tour of the city with a flamboyant guide who sported fashionable glasses. As he took us around and narrated Deadwood’s History, Hickock featured prominently in most places.

“Hickcock was faster than Clint Eastwood, folks “, he proclaimed, as all of us burst out laughing. At the end of the tour, we made the hour’s trip to Rushmore.

Mount Rushmore, National Memorial

The ‘Shrine of Democracy’ sculpture is a 60-foot-tall structure that prominently displays the visages of Washington, Jefferson, Theodore Roosevelt, and Lincoln.

Dean Franklin, CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0, via Wikimedia Commons

The sculpture is the brainchild of Doane Robinson, a historian from the area. Construction began in 1924 and concluded in 1941. About 2 million tourists visit Rushmore every year, an impressive number but still a tiny fraction of the tourists who visit large US cities.

This is an important piece of Americana that should be experienced. The awe-inspiring sight surpassed our wildest expectations. This trip has stayed only in memory until now. It was a treat to pull it out and relive that weekend. I hope my readers felt my joy. Maybe I have inspired some of you to visit Rushmore.

Many people we met told us to check out the Crazy Horse monument then. We did not! The construction of this monument began in 1948. It is still far from completion.