Ever wondered what happens when a Wild West outlaw, famed for his inability to be captured alive, actually dies? You might imagine a quiet burial, a tombstone, maybe a legend whispered around campfires. But what if I told you his story was just getting started – in the most bizarre, macabre, and utterly unbelievable way possible?
Meet Elmer McCurdy. In 1911, this small-time outlaw met his end in a shootout with lawmen in Oklahoma. True to his reputation, he wasn’t captured alive. Case closed, right? Not even close. His body ended up at a local undertaker’s, who, perhaps seeing a unique business opportunity, decided to embalm him with arsenic and turn him into a ‘mummy’ attraction. Because, you know, why let a perfectly good corpse go to waste?
This is where Elmer’s posthumous career truly kicked off. For decades, he toured the country, becoming a staple in sideshows, carnivals, and even a horror house. He was billed as ‘The Outlaw Who Would Never Be Captured Alive’ (which, technically, was true!) and sometimes as ‘The Oklahoma Outlaw.’ Think about that for a second: this man’s actual remains were a genuine, ticketed spectacle for crowds who thought he was just a wax dummy or a prop. Talk about a bizarre second act!
His journey was long and winding, passing from one owner to another, often sold off as part of a lot of carnival paraphernalia. He rode in the back of trucks, sat in dark storage rooms, and was poked and prodded by curious onlookers. All the while, the true identity of the ‘dummy’ was lost to time, a mere footnote in the annals of sideshow lore.
Then came 1976. While filming an episode of The Six Million Dollar Man in a Long Beach amusement park, a crew member moved what they thought was a prop dummy. To their horror, an arm broke off, revealing human bone and muscle. Plot twist of the century, right? It turns out, that ‘prop’ was none other than Elmer McCurdy.
After a thorough investigation and identification (which must have been a wild ride for the detectives involved), Elmer McCurdy finally received a proper burial. In 1977, 66 years after his death, he was laid to rest in the Boot Hill section of Summit View Cemetery in Guthrie, Oklahoma – with a concrete slab over his grave to ensure he wouldn’t go on any more unscheduled tours. It’s a tale so strange, it sounds like fiction, proving that sometimes, truth is far, far stranger (and funnier, in a dark way) than anything we could invent.
Caracole