WACO, Texas -- The concrete ruins sticking up from the high weeds and grass on this flat stretch of farmland about 10 miles out of town send a clear message: Something terrible happened here.
For 51 days in 1993, this was the center of the media universe. A standoff between the federal government and the Branch Davidians, a religious sect accused of stockpiling illegal arms, began with the deaths of four federal agents. It ended with a flaming inferno. About 80 members of the sect, including more than 20 children, were left dead.
Today, the large crowds that first came to the site are gone; only a handful of curious sightseers trickle in. The 77-acre site is still owned by factions of the Branch Davidians, the sect once led by David Koresh, but there is no evidence that anyone tills the land.
And nearby Waco, once the brunt of jokes by late-night TV comedians, is seeking a new form of celebrity. City officials hope President Bush's frequent visits to his ranch in nearby Crawford, such as the vacation that ended Thursday, will help erase the stigma attached to this part of central Texas.
Ghosts from the past, however, are never far away.
Former attorney general Janet Reno, who accepted responsibility for the disastrous ending of the 1993 standoff as head of the Justice Department, has accepted an invitation to speak at Baylor University in Waco on Sept. 13.
Authorities are examining their security needs. They are mindful that on April 19, 1995, the 2-year anniversary of the final assault at Waco, Timothy McVeigh bombed the Oklahoma City federal building. The bombing killed 168 people.
A small stone memorial to the Oklahoma City victims has been erected at the Waco site. ''We pray that they and their families find comfort,'' it says. The tribute was put up by a group called the Church of Righteousness.
Double EE Ranch Road runs along the front of the property. A black-and-white sign that says ''Mount Carmel,'' the name used by members of the sect, stands at the entrance. ''We appreciate your labor, love and gifts,'' it says.
A small, shed-like visitors center has been set up just inside the grounds. Inside, displays include the names and pictures of those who died.
Further down the road is a recently completed, one-story, white clapboard chapel. Current followers scattered around the area come to worship there. It was built roughly on the spot where the old Branch Davidian chapel stood.
A field across from the chapel has been set up as a cemetery-like memorial to the dead. Still-immature crape myrtle bushes have been planted in rows. In front of each is a small footstone with the name of one of those who died, with age, nationality and the date of death: April 19, 1993. An eerie silence permeates the place. Only the chirping of crickets and the distant mooing of a cow disrupt the quiet.
There is no way to know how many people come to the site each year. No one monitors the place full time.
People do come, however -- even the locals, acting as tour guides for their visitors.
''I come here quite a bit,'' says Franky Singleton of Hewitt, just outside Waco. He says he had no sympathy for the Branch Davidians, but he has questions about the way officials handled the situation.
He shows his brother, Terry Singleton of Lebanon, Tenn., around the place.
''I guess coming here is just like coming to a Civil War battlegrounds,'' Terry Singleton says. ''It is a place in U.S. history. Whether you think what happened was good or bad, it is history.''
As the two men stroll, Terry's wife, Juanita, refuses to get out of their rental car.
''I hate this place,'' she says, her voice growing with intensity. ''It's mean and it's crazy, and innocent people died here. I don't want my feet to touch this ground.''