Only two blocks from the notorious Birdcage Theater in the town “too tough to die,” you can find proof that the miners, gamblers, dance-hall girls and gunslingers of the Old West were never too tough to pray.

The legendary Wild West unfolded in an era when life was cheap, the law was whoever had the fastest gun, and worshipping God was something for the occasional schoolteacher, beleaguered Mexican peasant or unflappable missionary.

Did this world ever really exist at all? No matter. It certainly holds a place in our nation's imagination. And no city exemplifies the mythos better than Tombstone, this former silver metropolis of the Arizona Territory. Its lawless and bawdy history was so indelible that, decades after the last silver mine closed, the community still survives — albeit on the money of tourists. Folks come from around the world to visit the city's former saloons, theaters and brothels, which now house souvenir shops and museums.

Walking down Allen Street, tourists examine the plaques marking the spots where incorrigible outlaws met their violent end. Then they witness daily re-enactments of shootouts and brawls from this place's lawless past.

Yet, even after taking all that in, the visitor still has only an incomplete picture of his surroundings. Months before the infamous gunfight at the OK Corral, which absolutely did happen much as we've heard it — on Oct. 26, 1881, to be precise — citizens of the legendary town celebrated their community's first church and dedicated it to the Sacred Heart of Jesus (feast day: June 18).

The sanctuary stands today as testament to their faith, which triumphed over the early chaos and violence to shepherd the community through the 20th century and into the 21st.

“With the large influx of people from around the country and the world, it was inevitable that there would be chaos,” says Father Sylvester Nwaogu, the latest pastor of the historic parish. “However, in the midst of those tragic events that people remember about Tombstone, there were good people living here, too.”

It was the parish that helped provide a means for those people to bring peace to the town's streets. “The church was built for everyone, not just saints,” Father Nwaogu adds. “It extends the hand of friendship to sinners, and over time, this has a refining effect.”

Commanding Presence

Tombstone was named by prospector Ed Schieffelin, who went in search of silver in the plateau above the San Pedro River in 1877. Warned by soldiers at Tucson's Fort Lowell that the only thing he'd find in the Apache-controlled hills was his tombstone, Schieffelin instead found one of the richest silver strikes in U.S. history, second only to the Comstock in Virginia City, Nev.

Marking his discovery with its ironic name, he set about establishing a mine and a community for the miners. By 1881, Tombstone boasted a population of more than 6,000 people and, for a few years, until it was surpassed by Tucson, was the largest city between El Paso and San Diego.

The first Sacred Heart Church, now one of three of that name to have served Tombstone since 1881, was the result of a cooperative effort by the Right Rev. Jean Baptiste Salpointe, vicar apostolic and later bishop of the Tucson Diocese; Father Antonio Jouvencaeu, appointed Tombstone's first pastor in 1879; and Nellie Cash-man, restaurant and boarding-house operator and legendary “Angel of the Camp.”

The result of their effort was a two-story, four-room territorial-style adobe building, one of the largest noncommercial structures in town. It included a church and sacristy on the first floor and a rectory on the second, with a full-length porch and second-floor veranda. The church was ornamented with a gabled metal roof with gabled dormers opening onto the veranda, along with an enclosed front garden with an adobe wall to separate it from the noise and traffic along Safford Street.

It was supplanted a year later by a second, much larger church building, now the oldest wood-frame building in Arizona. As with the first one, this railroad-Gothic revival church was built to the highest standards of the era, with high and wide Gothic arched doors, hardwood strip floors and a tongue-and-groove wooden-plank ceiling and plastered interior walls with wainscoting.

With the completion of the new church, the 1881 building became the rectory, a duty it retained for 90 years, until a new one was built in 1972. Since then, it has served as the parish office.

The 1882 church was modified over the years. A bell tower with a 610-pound bell from St. Louis was added in 1883; the board-and-batten exterior siding was covered by stucco during a 1925 modernization, which also covered the high-pitched, wooden-shingled roof with corrugated metal.

However, the 1882 church remained mostly unchanged until 1947, when it was moved to face Sixth Street so room could be made for a new church, designed by the then-celebrated Tucson architect Terry Atkinson. This austere modern Spanish/modern mission-style building became a model for church construction throughout the Southwestern United States during the 1950s and ’60s.

The Whole Story

To make room for the three church buildings, Tombstone's pioneer Giacoma-Costello family donated an adjacent lot to the parish, formerly the site of the family home. The lot included two rose trees, planted in the 1880s and now the oldest in the state. The trees, which cover a large wooden trellis, shade a plaza and shrine to St. Jude, dedicated in honor of the parishioners who have sustained the church over its 123-year history.

Since 2000, Sacred Heart parish has become the focus of a restoration and remodeling effort, which has returned the 1881 church-rec-tory to its original condition and constructed a landscaped walkway to connect the various parish buildings. The site was proclaimed a National Historic Site by the U.S. Department of the Interior in 2002.

For tourists seeking to experience the Wild West, Father Nwaogu encourages a walk along Allen Street, “because that's what attracts people to come here.”

However, to get the whole story, they should stroll a couple of blocks further and see the Church of the Sacred Heart. There the tourists can do more than revisit the ghosts of the past. They can experience a frontier spirit that is as real as it is enduring.

Philip S. Moore writes from Vail, Arizona.