I had been warned against going to Gleeson; something about dangerous locals, but decided to make the 20 mile trip. I departed Tombstone heading Northeast by dirt road for the ghost town marked by skull and crossbones on the map.
I came to a desert crossroads that seemed to be the place. There were no people in sight so I headed to a square building with a sign outside--Gleeson Bar. It was the only standing building in the town.
Having made no prior arrangements to interview anyone, I stood around in the empty bar and looked at the mural painted on the left wall. From a low right wall window, a square shaft of bright sunlight illuminated large dust particles and provided the only light in the dark bar.
A man appeared from a room behind the counter. "Would you like a cold beer," he said.
I thanked him and introduced myself. His name was Tuffy Pride and he had owned the bar for some time. His friend Dan Christensen, a local rancher, would be stopping by soon.
When Dan got there, we took our beers and sat out in the courtyard.
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