Over the past several

weeks I have enjoyed, in a most comical way, reading three articles in

The Citizen about the famous Southern gentleman, "Doc" Holliday.

First, Carolyn

Cary wrote an article about Doc, which I understand her editor modified

to suit his own taste. Well, he is the boss. Second, the following week

Carolyn got her day in court with a factual article about Doc. But then

came the Victoria Wilcox article that we will label number three. Although

it contained some interesting information, from another point of view,

its direction seemed more focused on slamming our respected county historian.

Ladies, as

we call the female sex in the Deep South, lighten up! You can sling mud

like those nasty politicians that you talk so much about, or sit down

at the table, compare documented facts, and find the real truth about

Doc. I believe that should be our common goal.

Just to confuse

both of you more, read my views about Doc. All of the below is documented

except for one small detail: his gravesite location. Truth or myth? Read

on and you be the judge. As usual, I have made no effort to be politically

or socially correct, as that had nothing to do with the settling of the

West, or anything else for that matter.

John Henry

Holliday, later known as Doc, was born in Griffin on Aug. 14, 1851. His

parents, Henry Burroughs Holliday and Alice Jane McKey, were from South

Carolina. They provided a good education for their son, but his primary

interest was the great outdoors. Nothing interested young John Henry more

than hunting, fishing, and horseback riding.

In 1861, Henry

Burroughs Holliday accepted a presidential appointment from Jefferson

Davis to serve as a quartermaster in the 27th Ga. Infantry, Confederate

States of America. After the Battle of Manassas, he was promoted to the

rank of major and fought in the Peninsula Campaign as well as the Battle

of Malvern Hill. In 1862, a short time after fighting at Malvern Hill,

he was forced by poor health to leave the army and return to his family

in Griffin.

As the war

came closer to home, the Holliday family moved south to Loundes County,

Ga., where they settled on a 2,450-acre farm seven miles northwest of

Valdosta. Henry Burroughs Holliday was hoping to find a safe haven for

his wife and child. Unfortunately, this would not happen. Generals James

McPherson, John Logan, and William T. Sherman had made their way to Atlanta,

burning and killing everything in sight.

By 1864, Sherman

and Logan had proved successful in devastating all of Georgia. Southerners

reeled under the impact. Plantations, farms and homes were torched and

destroyed. Wells were poisoned. Personal property and stores were pillaged.

Clearly, the South would never be the same. And the world of young John

Henry Holliday was forever changed.

On the heels

of the war, John Henry graduated from the Pennsylvania College of Dental

Surgery. He returned to Georgia and lived with an uncle, Dr. John Stiles

Holliday. Also staying at Dr. Holliday's house was a black slave named

Sophie Walton.

Sophie had

relocated at the Holliday home after her master's plantation had been

torched and burned. Sophie was not the typical servant who reigned over

the kitchen and household chores. She had other interests primarily playing

cards. With a deck of cards in her hands, she performed wizardry. John

Henry was fascinated with Sophie's talent at cards and under her guidance,

he became addicted to the games. One of the tricks Sophie taught her apprentice

was the art of "skinning." She also taught him every other card

trick she knew. The hours spent playing cards with Sophie would soon have

a great impact on his future.

At the age

of 21, John Henry had the unfortunate draw of contracting tuberculosis

and was given a year to live. His doctor prescribed a dry climate and

suggested that he move west. Following his doctor's advice, he moved to

Texas and established a dental practice in Dallas. Friends and patients

began calling him Doc Holliday.

Dutifully,

he practiced dentistry by day. But, at night, he found something much

more exciting. He gravitated toward the local saloons. This honed his

appetite not only for drinking, but for card playing as well. Putting

Sophie Walton's card tricks into practice, especially the art of skinning,

Doc soon gained the reputation as a sporting man. The labels gunslinger

and killer would soon follow.

The ill-fated

dentist seemed to have thrown his life to the wind, not caring about the

consequences of tomorrow. With a medical death sentence hanging over his

head, Doc figured he had nothing to lose. Abandoning the dental practice,

he left for Fort Griffin, Texas. Later, his trail would lead to Jacksboro,

Denver, Cheyenne, Deadwood, Dodge City, Las Vegas, Tombstone, Leadville,

and other rip-roaring boomtowns. While gun fighting and gambling across

the American West, he made friends with other characters who would in

time become legendary.

One such person

was the famous lawman Wyatt Earp. The two met early on the trail at Fort

Griffin. Having a great deal in common, they quickly became friends. The

friendship escalated when Doc saved Wyatt's life from a band of desperadoes

in Dodge City, Kan.

Another individual

who became entangled in the life of Doc Holliday was a woman named Kate

Harony, aka Kate Elder. Some called her "Big Nose" Kate. When

it came to Doc Holliday, she claimed to be the only woman he remained

close to for the rest of his life. Kate also claimed that she and Doc

traveled everywhere together. Most likely, this was true with one exception,

when they had a brief parting of the ways in Tombstone, Ariz.

One of the

most famous gun battles of all time, the gunfight at the OK Corral, took

place in Tombstone on Oct. 26, 1881. Wyatt, Virgil, and Morgan Earp, along

with Doc, attempted to disarm a cowboy group consisting of Billy Clairburn,

Billy Clanton, Tom McLaury, Ike Clanton, and Frank McLaury.

Three of the

cowboys were killed, with Virgil and Morgan Earp wounded. The fight lasted

only 30 seconds. At the time, the key players had no idea that they had

just been involved in the most famous gunfight in the

history of

the Wild, Wild West!

After the fight,

a bystander, R. F. Coleman, commented, "Doc Holliday was as calm

as if at target practice and fired rapidly." Apparently, however,

this was not the case. Doc returned to his hotel room where Kate was waiting

for him. She later recalled, "After the fight was over, Doc came

in, and sat on the side of the bed and cried and said, 'Oh, this is just

awful, awful.'"

The story of

the Gunfight at the OK Corral, eventually became a moviemaker's dream.

Many say that Doc Holliday left Georgia and rode off into those make-believe

Hollywood movies that made him a legend. In the movies, he appeared a

fearless gunman and killer. But, in reality he was a very sick man whose

only fear was his degenerating physical condition due to the tuberculosis.

Sadly, Doc's

only consolation was gambling and the companionship of Kate. In his heart,

he secretly longed for Georgia and the family and friends he had left

behind.

The legend

of Doc Holliday and his gunfights provided Hollywood with movies that

could only be described as Western thrillers. However, using Hollywood's

artistic license, scriptwriters often portrayed Doc Holliday's life incorrectly.

They had Doc killing men he never knew and in places he had never been,

and some men he is credited with killing were slain by other gunfighters,

and some were not killed at all.

In May of 1887,

Doc's trail led him to Glenwood Springs, Colo., and a town famous for

mineral baths. He hoped the baths would help to curb the symptoms of the

tuberculosis. Instead, he grew progressively worse. On Nov. 8, 1887, he

awoke, asked for a glass of whiskey, drank it, and said, "This is

funny," and died. At the age of 36, Doc played his one ast hand and

lost.

Doc Holliday's

life contradicts the myth of the man. He was not a sorrowful man, nor

was his life a sad one. Doc once said, "When any of you fellows have

been hunted from one end of the country to the other, as I have been,

you'll understand what a bad man's reputation is built on."

Inaccurate

reports followed Doc after his death. His obituary was printed in a variety

of newspapers, but none of them agreed on the facts. The local newspaper

and city records state that Doc was buried in Linwood Cemetery, Glenwood

Springs, Colo., at 4 p.m. Nov. 8, 1887. However, the steep trail that

led to the cemetery, which sits on a hill, was impassable because of bad

weather. In truth, Doc was buried in a temporary grave at the foot of

the hill.

Today, Linwood

Cemetery, overlooking Glenwood Springs, contains a headstone and a monument

to the memory of one Doc Holiday. Both the monument and headstone are

filled with mistakes. Tombstone historian Ben Traywick states it best,

"It is difficult to see how [so] many mistakes could be made on a

headstone without trying."

Supposedly,

he was buried there, but many historians agree that he is not. My research,

as well as others, indicates Doc may be buried in his hometown of Griffin,

Ga.

Bill Dunn of

Griffin can tell you exactly where he thinks the remains of that legend

are located. Dunn, who is the head of the Doc Holliday Society and a distant

relative of Holliday's, has been engaged in extensive research on the

Holliday family for the past 17 years.

Bill states,

"There is no doubt in my mind why the people in Glenwood Springs

don't know exactly where Doc is buried, as he isn't there. I believe Doc

is buried right here in his hometown of Griffin. Doc was originally buried

in Linwood Cemetery, but he is not there now. You just don't lose the

grave of a man who held his celebrity status."

Some researchers

believe that Doc's father, Major Henry Holliday, C.S.A., went to Glenwood

Springs and claimed his son's remains. Anyone who says that Major Holliday

didn't have the motive to return his son's remains