Chris Epting of AOL News has a dynamite headline that accompanies his story about the Route 66 town of Oatman, Ariz. — “Oatman: A Town That Rose from its Asses.”
Although the town boasts re-enacted gunfights, keeps an Old West flavor, and preserved the hotel where Carole Lombard and Clark Gable honeymooned in 1939, Epting correctly notes the real reason that Oatman thrives today — the semi-wild burros that wander its streets in the daytime and mooch carrots from tourists.
A plaque in the center of town explains: “Oatman was founded around 1906 as part of Arizona’s richest gold mining area. Oatman was reborn in the late 1960s and early 1970s as a tourist town. The main attraction was the wild burro herd. The burros roaming the Oatman area are descendants of the burros from the mining ventures of earlier times.
“If it were not for these burros, in all probability, neither you nor this plaque would be standing here today. People from all over the world come to visit, feed and take pictures of the burros.” […]
At any given time, about a dozen or so of the local celebrities meander and mosey through Oatman, as much a part of the scenery as the ghost town architecture, gold-panning setup and shops selling T-shirts, silver and leather. […]
A woman who works in a gift shop called Jackass Junction said, “They become like family. We all know their names, and even when they wander in the store, it’s hard to get upset with them.”
Here’s Epting’s video about Oatman and the burros:
A couple of things to add: Many of the burros occasionally eschew going into Oatman when the area vegetation gets good and lush after the very occasional rain. Also, townsfolk tell me they occasionally import a few burros from Mexico to keep the local population from becoming too inbred.
If the hucksters and chicken dinner promoters of Route 66 were honest, and good sports, they’d have a contest every year for the most ‘bogus’ stop along the Route. For my money, Oatman would win hands down yearly.
No one in their right mind stops to feed donkeys, or, moreso, goes out of their way to feed them. If you were driving down Route 30 in central PA and saw a sign that said ‘spend your hard earned cash and buy carrots to feed to a bunch of lazy burrows-1000 feet’ would you stop? Oatman is the kind of Route 66 place that Colonel Parker would love.
I’m sure he would love to see such a contest, with it’s winner going right into Parker’s Snowman Club.
Trouble is, after Oatman, which place would come in second?
Oatman has always been one of my favorites. I love the burros and — despite my distaste for heights — will happily drive up the side of a mountain to buy five bucks’ worth of carrots to feed the pushy little boogers.