By
Michelle McCollum
Arizona Summer Wildcat
While Tucson may be known for its desert beauty and dry heat, very few may also know it harbors the only North American shrine dedicated to a sinner, the secret to the end of the world, and two seven-foot-long gila monsters.
One day in a time of fierce religion and rogue justice, a terrible thing happened. A man, dueling fiercely with another for the affection of a woman, was killed on a usually-peaceful barrio street.
The spectators knew the man was a sinner, and because of that he was not to be buried in a consecrated grave.
The condemned man was then buried, without ceremony or the blessing of a priest, in a crude grave where he had fallen victim to his fatal love-triangle.
He was called "the outcast"˛ El Tiradito.
Now a shrine stands on Main Street just south of Cushing Street, on the place where the man died, according to the city's official story of the event. It is the only shine in North America dedicated to a sinner.
"If you light a candle and it burns through the night, your wish will come true," says Lisa Cooper, a tourist from Nevada. "I saw someone crawling to the shrine to light a candle. It's kind of creepy."
The creepy vibe emitted from The Wishing Shrine may be due to deep belief that if the candle goes out, the wish will not be granted. Or it could be, according to Jane Eppinga's book "Arizona Twilight Tales," due to the legendary sightings of sad ghosts and the unhappy spirit of El Tiradito who haunts the sight.
The shrine was made a historic site in 1988 and is just one of many narratives that represent local Mexican lore and Tucsonan culture.
Saints are also said to have graced the 200-year old walls of San Xavier del Bac, 20 miles south of the city. One saint in particular was Ignacio Joseph Ramirez y Arellano who died in the church in the late 1880's only to continue to sweat and emit a sweet odor hours after his death.
"I know people who say they see spirits when they pray," says Mary Rose Lopez, who has attended the church her whole life. "I have never seen any, but I believe they are there."
One spirit may be of St. Xavier, whose statue lies inside the church. Believers pin prayers, pictures, and small metal charms of parts of the body on the statue. They hope their reverence for the saint will cure their ailments or answer their prayers.
Another may be of the architect of San Xavier, Gaona, who, according to myth, fell from the unfinished bell tower and turned into a rattlesnake, which now rests beneath the foundation as a warning to those who want to finish it.
Others may be of the apocalyptic cat and mouse that are seen at a stand off on the faŤade of the church: a mouse hides inside a swirl of stone and the cat patiently waits for it to emerge. If the cat and mouse ever meet, as the story goes, the world will come to an end.
"I have asked the priests why I do not see these spirits,?" Lopez said. "And he says because I am so good that they leave me alone!"
"This is a place where people can come to feel peace and serenity," says Sharon Low, a gift shop employee. "I've been going here for over thirty years and I have always felt at home. We don't mind the tourists; we want them to feel at home too."
But for those who wish to see the spirits of everyday people, they might visit the spectacular sight of two giant gila monster tile statues on Irvington Road, just east of Mission Road.
Designed by architect Bob Vindt, the enormous seven-foot long monsters are made of tiles, mirror shards, and other bric-a-brac.
Driving past them on busy Irvington Road, the statues look like just another example of southwestern art made of glistening mosaic tile. But upon closer inspection, one can see glass flowers, sea shells, and even a small ceramic St. Mary that were brought to the construction sight.
"He began to make these statues," says Shari Murphy, a docent for the Arizona Historical Society, "And people began to bring him things. They brought him things that were important to them, for whatever reason. Mahjong tiles, teacups, old industrial screws. Why these things are important to them, we'll never know. But they are, and they're in there."
And while there are no apocalyptic animals or sweet smelling saints here, Murphy says what is represented is the spirit of everyday people captured for posterity in the shapes of two seven-foot long gila monsters.
