Par for the Course

Nick Paumgarten superbly describes the cultlike underbelly of Augusta National—the prudish, humorless attitudes of its leaders and the self-satisfaction of its patrons (“Unlike Any Other,” June 24th). But, year after year, the Masters golf tournament has been a stage for human drama and remarkable achievements under pressure. In my view, the artifice, exclusivity, and privilege that exist behind the scenes do not spoil the captivating power of one of the greatest sporting events in the world.

Don Greif

New York City

I am a golfer now in my seventh decade. Augusta National has always seemed to me an unattainable fantasy, the Mecca of the golfing universe. Reading Paumgarten’s chronicle of its excesses, I was troubled to realize that I have chosen to ignore its many defects, much as I have overlooked the myriad transgressions of the game’s most wondrous talent, Tiger Woods. My enthusiasm for both should be tempered.

Robert S. Nussbaum

Fort Lee, N.J.

Borderline

Valeria Luiselli, in her article about Tombstone, the town in Arizona where I grew up, writes that the place seems oblivious of history (“Staging the Frontier,” June 10th & 17th). Yet her piece seems oblivious of the history of visitors using Tombstone to validate their preconceptions about the American West. Luiselli’s reductive portrayal of the town’s gunfight reënactors, based on her trip to the O.K. Corral, seems to me like the equivalent of claiming, after a visit to Times Square, that people dressed as Disney characters represent New York City. She suggests that Tombstone residents are ignorant of the “current political reality,” but, in invoking the outdated example of Chris Simcox and the Minutemen, who left Tombstone years ago, she overemphasizes the impact of border militias today. In short, people who go to Tombstone looking for borderland clichés will find them, one way or another.

Justin St. Germain

Corvallis, Ore.

When I visited Tombstone, in about 1985, I found, below the Boothill cemetery, a small Jewish cemetery, marked with a plaque that read “Dedicated to the Jewish Pioneers and Their Indian Friends.” I seemed to be the only person visiting this Jewish/Native American area; the other tourists were clustered around the graves of Tombstone’s famous outlaws and murderers. Perhaps peaceful coexistence is simply less popular and visible in Tombstone than mayhem, and not, as Luiselli might argue, absent altogether.

Richard B. Davis

Campton, N.H.

Luiselli captures some truths about Tombstone, but I respectfully disagree with her characterization of the town in the context of border-security issues and racism. I intend to retire in Tombstone. Why? Because it’s a great town. It has much more to offer than gunfights: excellent museums, guided tours, family attractions, ghost hunts, and festivals. More than once, a marshal there has walked up to me to ask about my day. Luiselli writes that going to Tombstone feels like entering a “psychotic episode—one fuelled by testosterone and paranoia.” When I go to Tombstone, I feel like I am entering a future home—a place that is proud of preserving its history, and that values family and hard work. I encourage Luiselli to give Tombstone another try.

James McAllister

Chandler, Ariz.