Author Vernon Maddux, who wrote the article for Western Americana blog two weeks ago entitled, “Frontier Violence, Conspiracy and Indian Removal: the Dear Chum Letter,” presents another article, more moving and disturbing than the Dear Chum Letter on frontier violence and the fate of the Comanche.
In 1858, the Texas Frontier seemed peaceful. The last serious trouble between the Texans and Comanches occurred in 1848 when the Comanches captured John McLennan, age nine. The young boy escaped, with the help of the Texas Rangers. Ten years latter, McLennan became a linguist for the rangers; he spoke several languages and knew most of the camping areas and customs of the Native tribes. In early 1858, the Texas Rangers scouted the far west side of the Bosque River. Joining them on their trip was the Penateka Comanche Indian Agent and legendary Texas Ranger, Shapley Prince Ross, who had helped rescue McLennan. Ross led 30 men. His scouts included whites, mixed Indians and Black Seminoles. The head agent, Major Robert S. Neighbors joined them to survey the Brazos River. In northern Palo Pinto County, they discovered a large village of Caddoes, whose Chief Hadebar greeted them and told them he had lived at that place for 21 years. Up the river were several villages of Wichita and Tonkawa, who lived along the north bank of the Brazos. Eight miles further upriver was a large Waco village. The Rangers were satisfied this month of February, 1858, that all was calm on the Texas frontier.
The peace and calm, however, ended on April 15, 1858. On that day four white men massacred James B. Cambren and his two sons, Luther and William, who were plowing a new field on their homestead bordering the Brazos River in the extreme northwest corner of Young County. The four men were led by a man named Willis, a "red-headed man” from Lampasas County; all were dressed in Native American attire. The men rode out of the woods along Cambren’s field and attacked Cambren and his two sons. One of the sons and Cambren were killed immediately. The other son ran for the house and made it to a fence before he was shot. The assailants then went to the Cambren cabin and captured Mrs. Cambren and her four children. The men dragged Mrs. Cambren and her son Tom to a hill about one mile from the house and tortured Mrs. Cambren until she ultimately died. And for sport tied her son Tom to a mule and watched as he flopped around on the animal’s back. Hearing the shots from the Cambren place a half mile away, Thomas Mason ran toward the sound of the shooting followed by his wife, Mary, who was Mrs. Cambren’s sister. Mason and his wife were killed as they approached the Cambren house, their bodies left in the dust.
The next day Isaac Lynn, Mrs. Mason’s father, visited the Mason and Cambren cabins, where he found his daughter and her husband lying dead outside the house. Two Mason children, age three-years-old and sevens months-old, were found wandering among the bodies of their slain parents. At the Cambren house three-year-old Mary Cambren answered the door and told Lynn how the white men had ransacked the house, evidently looking for money. The outlaws discovered the $1,000 that Cambren was saving to buy cattle. When word of the atrocities spread to Fort Belknap, Colonel Middleton Tate Johnson ordered Lt. Charles W. Phifer to take soldiers and track the murderers. But, there were few soldiers available; most had been sent to handle a situation in the new Utah Territory.
In 1857, President James Buchanan appointed a governor for the newly formed Utah Territory. The appointment did not set well with Brigham Young, head of the Church of Latter-day Saints (Mormons), and his followers who settled in the Great Basin in 1844. The Mormons would not acknowledge Buchanan’s appointee. Consequently, Buchanan ordered the Army to march to Utah in a show of force against the Mormons. By so doing, the bulk of the 2nd U.S. Cavalry stationed across North Texas were withdrawn from their outposts and joined with the 1st Cavalry at Fort Leavenworth. In the summer, they rode north to join other regiments units in Kansas for the march against Utah in what historians call the “Mormon War.” This effectively stripped the Texas frontier of its protection. Camp Cooper, which guarded the Upper Brazos River Comanche Reservation and Fort Belknap, where several tribes were located, had a skeleton force of only a few soldiers to shield North Texas against Indian raids or more importantly, to protect the Comanches from white depredation.
With few soldiers available, a posse had to be formed from the available townsmen. W.L. Lasater led the posse west in pursuit of the outlaws. They trailed four men down through Palo Pinto south to Croyell County where they had the good fortune to captured Willis, the “red-headed man.” At the subsequent trial, little Mary Cambren positively identified Willis as the looter of her father's house, but the jury refused to accept the child's testimony.
On April 16, the men who had taken the little boy, Tom Cambren, ran into some immigrants on the road to Preston Bend on the Red River. Seeing the white men dressed as Indians, the immigrant train’s militiamen immediately rode out in pursuit. One white man threw young Tom off his horse and raced away to save himself. Unhurt, the militiamen took care of Tom Cambren and the train arrived at Fort Belknap on April 19.
Despite the overwhelming evidence that it was white outlaws who committed the Mason-Cambren outrage, no one seemed to want to hear about it. Texas Governor Hardin Richard Runnells used the reports of “Indian” attacks on the frontier to fan the fires of racial anger. He ignored the reports that the atrocities were actually committed by white men. Instead, Runnells used the Cambren murders to justify the new Ranger battalion that the Texas legislature approved on January 27, 1858. Governor Runnells chose a long-time Texas Republican soldier, Major John Salmon “Rip” Ford to lead the new battalion of Rangers. (Ford’s nickname came from his habit of initialing “Rest In Peace” above his name when during the Mexican War he was required to sign the death reports of his soldiers.) Ford’s first action as battalion commander was to immediately travel to Fort Worth, Weatherford and Palo Pinto soliciting recruits and volunteers, who would join him at a temporary base called “Camp Runnells” near Fort Belknap. Ford was not a rabid hater of Indians, but he saw his duty as hunting down warriors and spurned any attempt to condemn whites as murderers.
At his newly established Camp Runnells, Ford organized and trained his men, outfitting them from a $70, 000 state appropriations. This fund, which soon evaporated, seems excessive since most of his 100 recruits brought their own horses and weapons. There was also no expense for uniforms and they only had the most basic food requirements. Most of the men didn’t join the battalion for the pay, but they longed to participate on a raid deep into Indian Territory. Many in North Texas saw the Indian Territory to the north as an unfair haven for hated Comanche and wanted to destroy the Indian’s lair. Ford promised to the newspapers that he would catch the Comanche perpetrators of the most recent outrage against the families of settlers along the frontier even if they had to travel far to the north.
Governor Runnells’ orders to Ford were to locate and follow the trail of the hostiles who had been crossing the Red River to strike at the frontier. When he caught up with them, he was to “inflict the maximum punishment.” Runnells promised Ford political support and told him not to “book interference from any source” (meaning the United States Army, which had promised arrest to any white person caught trespassing in Indian Territory). Ford already knew exactly where he was headed. He had sent a spy north immediately after his appointment and that spy had returned with perfect intelligence on where the tribes were camped.
Ford chose his officers well. Most were veterans of the Mexican War. Edward Burleson and “Billy” pits had served under Ben McCulloch during the Mexican War. Lieutenants Allison Nelson, James H. Tankersley, William Preston and William N. P. Marlin, and Captains Shapely Prince Ross, and Henry E. McCulloch, were old time Rangers and also veterans in fighting the Mexicans.
Also, incorporated into the search for the Comanche was a troop of Tonkawa and Waco Indian scouts. Ford had asked Ranger Shapley Prince Ross if his teenage son, Lawrence Sullivan “Sul” Ross, could organize and lead the troop of Indian scouts. Ross agreed. Lieutenant Sul Ross was 19 years old, but well experienced in leading his father’s men.
On April 22 Ford and Nelson headed north with 102 Rangers from Camp Runnels. The camp was at the junction of the Clear Fork of the Brazos and Hubbard’s Creek in northern Palo Pinto County.Every man carried at least two pistols and a musket. Ford later claimed his men could shoot 1,500 rounds without reloading. Four days out they crossed the Prairie Dog Branch of the Red River into Greer County, considered Texas in those days, where Sul Ross intercepted the rangers on April 24, 1858. Ross’s force of scouts doubled the size of the unit. Ross’ 113 Tonkawa and Waco scouts were led by Chief Placido and Jim Pockmark, both eager to engage the hated Comanche. A week or so out, Ford came to the North Fork of the Red River and immediately crossed over, now officially in Indian Territory. He said later that he never considered not crossing the Red River, since his job “was to find Indians, not to learn geography.”
The Tonkawa scouts moved out ahead and found evidence of recent Indian camps, especially along the Washita River. The Rangers made their way north up the watershed of the Washita on the evening of May 11. From a vantage point along on a rise on the old road that led from between Fort Smith (Arkansas) to Santa Fe (New Mexico), along the False Washita River, Ford and S. P. Ross could see in the distance Comanche hunters chasing buffalo in the valleys north of the road. Before dark, Ford and his men came into sight of the prominent bluffs called the Antelope Hills. Concerned that the Comanche were near enough to spot them, Ford ordered no fires built and cautioned the men to keep noise at a minimum. After dark scouts returned to camp and reported seeing a Comanche village on the north bank of the Canadian River just beyond the Hills. They were only a few miles away.
Long before first light on May 12, Ford led the Rangers up around to the west of the Antelope Hills in two columns, with Sul Ross and the Indian scouts leading the way. The scouts surprised two warriors who were camped in tepees on the ridge near the base of the western-most bluff. The Comanche warriors leapt on their horses and raced toward the main camp, which by now Ford and the Rangers could see in the early morning light.
Sul Ross and the Scouts bolted ahead, chasing the two warriors down the long approach to the river. Seeing the magnificent village across the river, Ford halted and deployed his men on line, giving strict orders for them to maintain formation as they advanced against the Comanche. The Rangers were deep in the heart of Indian Territory at least 220 miles from the frontier of Texas. The Comanche village was built on a broad and pretty green grass meadow in present Ellis County, Oklahoma. Fortunately for the Rangers, the fleeing warriors were in such a hurry to warn the village that they gave away the location of a shallow ford across the river. Ford signaled to Ross to cross and hold up on the far riverbank and wait for the rest of the Rangers to catch up and get in formation.
As the Rangers reached the riverbank, they plunged into the river and maneuvered to cross the shallow ford together as a group. Screaming was heard in the village followed by warning drums. From the center of the village, an impressively mounted warrior dashed out toward the Texans. He was wearing full war paint and feathered regalia. He was, according to most eyewitness reports, magnificent in his appearance. He had otter-fur and eagle feathers on his war bonnet which flashed in the sun. He waved a long feathered lance and screamed great insults in Comanche at the approaching Texans. His chest gleamed from waist to chin with a coat of iron-linked mail. The Tonkawa yelled to each other that he was Pohebits Quasho, or “Iron Shirt.” The Rangers murmured to each other seeing the coat of Spanish armor. Most saw the mail coming from a Spanish nobleman killed in some long-forgotten battle on the Great Plains. It seems more likely that it was more recent, purchased from Comancheros. The Rangers moved in close formation on the north bank of the river just in front of the fearless chief. On command, the men pulled out their rifles and without compunction, aimed them directly at the brave who danced his horse in defiance of their looming presence.
Ford gave the order to fire and the Rangers blasted the chief, knocking him and his horse to the ground, killing the horse. As Pohebits Quasho jumped to his feet, a second volley killed him. Led by Ford and Nelson, the Rangers put away their muskets, pulled pistols and raced into the heart of the village.
A few warriors on foot who had rushed forward to support their chief faltered when they saw him fall. A few of them stood their ground and were overwhelmed and killed as the Texans raced their horses over them. Most warriors fled from the assault. Ford pulled up inside the village and watched the Rangers attacking in all directions. Individual men, women and children bolted from teepees and ran with great abandon toward the hills off to the north and west of the village.
Rangers chased the warriors down, using pistols at close range to shoot any man who tried to fight. Reloading the muzzle-loading pistols was such a problem that the Rangers carried more than one fully loaded. Several carried more than two. A large number of warriors were killed running away, but one group of about a dozen warriors gathered to the west of the town. They managed to conduct a successful defensive action for their families. Delaying the Rangers for a few moments saved several groups of women and children. The effort cost the Comanche warriors their lives, however. None of them escaped.
The running battle soon went beyond six miles in several directions with Ford directing his men here and there. They continued the chase into the afternoon. The Texans gave no quarter to the disorganized warriors. After seven hours, Ford saw that his men’s horses were worn out and ammunition was low. He ordered the men to reform near the village. The Rangers tallied 76 warriors killed and Ford counted 18 women and children captured. Later, in letters written to friends, Ford reported that he actually had captured more than 60 Comanche women and children. Historians speculate that Ford and the officers sold the uncounted women and children as slaves when they reached Camp Runnells. The Tonkawa scouts rounded up the village’s horse herd of at least 300 horses, which Ford split among the men. Robert Nickels and a Waco scout were dead, the latter lanced to death in a hand-to-hand fight. George W. Paschal, Jr. and two Tonkawa scouts were seriously wounded. Chief Placido and Jim Pockmark studied the remains of the camp and told Ford that it was Naomi and Tenaha Comanche they had defeated. The teepees, approximately 70-80 of them, had been erected on the northwest bank of the Canadian River near the mouth of Little Robe Creek. The site is a mile down river, southwest, from the mouth of Commission Creek, a major landmark in Ellis County today.
That evening, the Rangers thoroughly looted and then burned the camp. The men picked up weapons and souvenirs and stripped the body of Iron Jacket of his armor and war bonnet. That night around campfires, the Rangers divided the chain mail by cutting it into small patches as souvenirs. Bob Cotter sent one of the scraps of the iron links in a letter to Governor Runnels describing the battle. Over their campfires that night, a buzz went through the Ranger camp when they noticed that the Tonkawa scouts had cooked and were eating the hands and feet of some of the dead Comanche warriors. After a guarded night near the Antelope Hills, Ford led the Rangers back toward Camp Runnells.
The force arrived back at their camp on the Brazos River without incident on May 21. Ford sent a report to Runnels, stressing the fact that the expedition had proved so successful and so devastating to the Comanche, that all the Indians living in Western Indian Territory and the Panhandle of Texas should be immediately pursued and defeated. He could do it if given a properly organized expedition. Ignoring the role of the Tonkawa, Ford claimed his hundred Rangers had smashed a force three times greater than his own. The Comanche he noted had always been considered the most fearsome warriors on the plains. Continuing in this vein, Ford proudly wrote that his company had easily penetrated a region, which the Spanish had not dared to enter for a century and even the United States Army was reluctant to go for extended operations. Ford formally requested permission to continue his campaign through the summer and winter, so that he could “destroy the Comanche threat forever.”
Runnells read Ford’s report to the Texas legislature proclaimed it to the newspapers, which made Ford a celebrated state hero. Rip Ford’s request to continue the mission was denied, however. Ford, the governor learned, had spent all authorized funds on the campaign. Mincing no words, Runnells ordered Ford to immediately disband the Rangers.
Sources: Texas Historical Society, Austin: Ltr: Cotter to Runnels (no date); W. J. Hughes, Rebellious Ranger, Rip Ford and the Old Southwest, Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1964; Rupert Norvell Richardson, The Frontier of Northwest Texas 1846 to 1876, Glendale: Arthur H. Clark Company, 1963.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
The Making of Western Folklore
Folklore - the traditional beliefs, legends, sayings, and customs of a people - is alive and well in today's popular press and entertainment industry. The old west is an ideal setting for the development of folklore because of the nostalgia we Americans embrace for this romantic period in our nation's history. Our frontier folk heroes are characters who have served as our role models throughout the ages and remain a cherished part of the American culture. Indeed, with modern media now encompassing the globe, they have become part of the world culture. Have you ever wondered what it is about these characters that have elevated them to the status of folk hero? What was it about them that caused them to become the grist of which legends are made, as opposed to their neighbors up the road apiece who lived and died in obscurity?
Some, like James Butler "Wild Bill" Hickok, (1837-1876), earned their fame as lawmen and sharpshooters who were fearless in battle. Wild Bill reportedly got his nickname from a woman who watched him thwart a lynching. By the time the "Prince of the Pistoleers" was killed in Deadwood in 1876, he had been a stagecoach driver, a cavalry scout, a lawman, a sharpshooter, an actor, a prospector, and a gambler, among other things. Although he lived in Deadwood, Dakota Territory, a scant six weeks before Jack McCall, that dasterdly villain, immortalized him with a bullet to the brain, the town still claims him as their leading citizen. Doc Pierce, the Deadwood citizen who laid Hickok out, said the man bled out nicely and was "the prettiest corpse I've ever seen."
Others, like Butch Cassidy, (Robert LeRoy Parker, 1866-1908), the "Robin Hood of the West," and his partner, the Sundance Kid, (Harry A. Longabaugh, 1867-1908), rode the outlaw trail. They and their gang, the Wild Bunch, were robbers, plain and simple. Although Butch and Sundance left the States for South America late in their careers and actually went straight for a few years, they eventually returned to what they did best and died in Bolivia after a 1908 robbery and gun battle. Some historians say they were wounded and committed suicide rather than surrender, then were hastily buried in an unmarked grave, which actually added to their legendary status. They were sighted in various parts of the United States for many years thereafter. Americans generally looked upon them as charming, good old boys who fought the Establishment and thus, earned the right to be called folk heroes.
Still others, like Annie Oakley, (1860-1926) were entertainers. Dubbed "Little Sure Shot" because of her five-foot stature, Annie was a markswoman without equal. She could easily hit a dime tossed into the air at 90 feet and did so regularly as the star attraction of Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show.
Annie's employer, William Frederick Cody, (Buffalo Bill, 1846-1917), was also a showman in his later years and toured the world with his wild west show. Prior to this, his reputation was built on his record as a scout, first during the civil war and later on the frontier, and also as a buffalo hunter for the railroad. During one seventeen month period he reportedly killed over 4,000 buffalo (by his own count.)
John Johnson, aka (John "Liver Eating" Johnson, 1824-1900), received his nickname by allegedly turning cannibal and eating the livers of the Crow Indian warriors he killed, a practice he steadfastly denied. This six foot six inch giant spent most of his life in the rugged mountains of Montana. He was a true mountain man who earned his reputation as an Indian fighter by waging a personal vendetta against the Indians who killed his Indian wife. He also was a lawman in his later years but as his health declined he eventually had to leave his beloved mountains. Robert Redford portrayed Johnson in the 1972 film, "Jeremiah Johnson," which is still one of the all-time classic western films.
There are common traits among these characters. They lived very public lives. They possessed outstanding skills or personal traits such as bravery, charm, glamour, charisma, fighting ability, or marksmanship and as such, they were role models. They projected a positive image with which the common man could identify. They tended to be egotistical; they were self-promoters or knew how to inspire others to promote them so that word of their exploits became common knowledge. They were individuals of strong, well-defined character who were dramatic and entertaining. They tended to be dashing and photogenic, and they enjoyed their reputations.
Where does western folklore go from here?
Today, the western folk hero does not enjoy the popularity achieved in the last century, but there are indications on the horizon that the western genre may be headed toward a renaissance. Organizations such as the Western Writers of America, home of the prestigious Spur Award, Taylor Fogerty, with her online American Western Magazine, and yes, even television and Hollywood seem to be taking a new look at preserving our western heritage along with our folk heroes and legends.
Western authors such as Loren Estleman in his book, Writing the Popular Novel, (2004 - Writers Digest Books) indicates that predictions that the Western is dead is far from the truth.
"Without exception, the forecasts have proven false," Estleman says. "Following the lead of Larry McMurtry, Cormac McCarthy, and Annie Proulx, the Western is entering its greatest period."
Neither "folk hero" nor "legend" is a static concept. This creates both a challenge and an opportunity for storytellers in the world literary community and in a variety of mediums to contribute to folklore, to enhance existing legends, to create new ones (like Harry Potter), and to assure their characters a small piece of immortality in the process.
Finally, it is significant to note that a folk hero is a delicately blended creation of both fact and fiction. It is the right combination of reality and myth that transforms a folk hero into folklore and legend. The importance of this combination is explained in the 1962 film, The Man Who Shot Liberty Valence. The whole country thought Ransom Stoddard killed the outlaw Liberty Valence and in gratitude, elevated Mr. Stoddard to the rank of folk hero. Jimmy Stewart, who portrayed Stoddard, now a senator, returns to the scene of the killing several years later to attend the funeral of Tom Doniphon, portrayed by John Wayne. He tells the editor if the Shinbone Star that he did not shoot Liberty Valence but rather, that Tom Doniphon killed the outlaw. The editor, who is taking notes for a front page story in the newspaper, throws the notes away and declares: "This is the west, sir. When the legend becomes fact, print the legend."
The editor of the Shinbone Star said it well.
Steven Merrill Ulmen, author of Toby Ryker, a western novel
Some, like James Butler "Wild Bill" Hickok, (1837-1876), earned their fame as lawmen and sharpshooters who were fearless in battle. Wild Bill reportedly got his nickname from a woman who watched him thwart a lynching. By the time the "Prince of the Pistoleers" was killed in Deadwood in 1876, he had been a stagecoach driver, a cavalry scout, a lawman, a sharpshooter, an actor, a prospector, and a gambler, among other things. Although he lived in Deadwood, Dakota Territory, a scant six weeks before Jack McCall, that dasterdly villain, immortalized him with a bullet to the brain, the town still claims him as their leading citizen. Doc Pierce, the Deadwood citizen who laid Hickok out, said the man bled out nicely and was "the prettiest corpse I've ever seen."
Others, like Butch Cassidy, (Robert LeRoy Parker, 1866-1908), the "Robin Hood of the West," and his partner, the Sundance Kid, (Harry A. Longabaugh, 1867-1908), rode the outlaw trail. They and their gang, the Wild Bunch, were robbers, plain and simple. Although Butch and Sundance left the States for South America late in their careers and actually went straight for a few years, they eventually returned to what they did best and died in Bolivia after a 1908 robbery and gun battle. Some historians say they were wounded and committed suicide rather than surrender, then were hastily buried in an unmarked grave, which actually added to their legendary status. They were sighted in various parts of the United States for many years thereafter. Americans generally looked upon them as charming, good old boys who fought the Establishment and thus, earned the right to be called folk heroes.
Still others, like Annie Oakley, (1860-1926) were entertainers. Dubbed "Little Sure Shot" because of her five-foot stature, Annie was a markswoman without equal. She could easily hit a dime tossed into the air at 90 feet and did so regularly as the star attraction of Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show.
Annie's employer, William Frederick Cody, (Buffalo Bill, 1846-1917), was also a showman in his later years and toured the world with his wild west show. Prior to this, his reputation was built on his record as a scout, first during the civil war and later on the frontier, and also as a buffalo hunter for the railroad. During one seventeen month period he reportedly killed over 4,000 buffalo (by his own count.)
John Johnson, aka (John "Liver Eating" Johnson, 1824-1900), received his nickname by allegedly turning cannibal and eating the livers of the Crow Indian warriors he killed, a practice he steadfastly denied. This six foot six inch giant spent most of his life in the rugged mountains of Montana. He was a true mountain man who earned his reputation as an Indian fighter by waging a personal vendetta against the Indians who killed his Indian wife. He also was a lawman in his later years but as his health declined he eventually had to leave his beloved mountains. Robert Redford portrayed Johnson in the 1972 film, "Jeremiah Johnson," which is still one of the all-time classic western films.
There are common traits among these characters. They lived very public lives. They possessed outstanding skills or personal traits such as bravery, charm, glamour, charisma, fighting ability, or marksmanship and as such, they were role models. They projected a positive image with which the common man could identify. They tended to be egotistical; they were self-promoters or knew how to inspire others to promote them so that word of their exploits became common knowledge. They were individuals of strong, well-defined character who were dramatic and entertaining. They tended to be dashing and photogenic, and they enjoyed their reputations.
Where does western folklore go from here?
Today, the western folk hero does not enjoy the popularity achieved in the last century, but there are indications on the horizon that the western genre may be headed toward a renaissance. Organizations such as the Western Writers of America, home of the prestigious Spur Award, Taylor Fogerty, with her online American Western Magazine, and yes, even television and Hollywood seem to be taking a new look at preserving our western heritage along with our folk heroes and legends.
Western authors such as Loren Estleman in his book, Writing the Popular Novel, (2004 - Writers Digest Books) indicates that predictions that the Western is dead is far from the truth.
"Without exception, the forecasts have proven false," Estleman says. "Following the lead of Larry McMurtry, Cormac McCarthy, and Annie Proulx, the Western is entering its greatest period."
Neither "folk hero" nor "legend" is a static concept. This creates both a challenge and an opportunity for storytellers in the world literary community and in a variety of mediums to contribute to folklore, to enhance existing legends, to create new ones (like Harry Potter), and to assure their characters a small piece of immortality in the process.
Finally, it is significant to note that a folk hero is a delicately blended creation of both fact and fiction. It is the right combination of reality and myth that transforms a folk hero into folklore and legend. The importance of this combination is explained in the 1962 film, The Man Who Shot Liberty Valence. The whole country thought Ransom Stoddard killed the outlaw Liberty Valence and in gratitude, elevated Mr. Stoddard to the rank of folk hero. Jimmy Stewart, who portrayed Stoddard, now a senator, returns to the scene of the killing several years later to attend the funeral of Tom Doniphon, portrayed by John Wayne. He tells the editor if the Shinbone Star that he did not shoot Liberty Valence but rather, that Tom Doniphon killed the outlaw. The editor, who is taking notes for a front page story in the newspaper, throws the notes away and declares: "This is the west, sir. When the legend becomes fact, print the legend."
The editor of the Shinbone Star said it well.
Steven Merrill Ulmen, author of Toby Ryker, a western novel
Selling the American West: Eva Caten Remington and Nancy Cooper Russell
Six days after the death of western artist Frederic Remington on December 26, 1909, his wife Eva wrote in her diary “It seems very lonesome without Frederic. The whole house is filled with his presence. Feel as though all had gone from me...Frederic being taken away the very last of 1909 left me alone and all my life entirely changed.” Seventeen years later Nancy Cooper Russell, the wife of another illustrator of western America, Charles M. Russell, felt just as devastated at the passing of her husband, and she too realized there would be many changes. For both ladies, perhaps the most significant change was that the person who provided for their financial well being was gone. But fortunately, both artists left behind an inventory of sketches, paintings and sculptures that if marketed prudently could provide a steady income for the women. To make this happen, they would need to keep alive the public’s interest in their husbands’ art. By so doing, the women elevated Frederic Remington and Charlie Russell to the position of America’s most notable illustrators of western life.
Shortly after Frederic Remington’s death in Canton, New York, his wife Eva returned to their home in Ridgefield, Connecticut, to begin the lonely task of putting her husband’s estate in order. She knew very little about their finances; it was within her culture to assume that her husband would take care of the business end of their marriage. Remington provided a good living through the sale of his paintings and sculptures but he also had a lot of debt. He was worried about his finances in 1907 after he lost money on investments due to a downturn in the economy. He was also concerned that he was over budget on the construction of their new country estate in Ridgefield. Unfortunately, at the time of his death from a ruptured appendix in late 1909, Frederic Remington’s estate, consisting of investments, real estate, and art, was valued surprisingly low, even in 1909-1910 dollars, at $75, 416. Eva was left with the arduous task of turning Remington’s estate into a source of income to sustain her in the high fashion to which she had become accustomed.
Within a month after Remington’s death, a representative from Knoedler’s Art Gallery in New York City advised Eva to sell her husband’s paintings “while the public was still interested.” Taking a cue from Knoedler and her lawyer, George Wright, Eva began taking charge of the necessary business of marketing Remington’s sketches, paintings and sculptures. As early as February, 1910, she met with a representative from Collier’s Magazine about reproducing the sketches Remington sold to Colliers, and she met with Riccardo Bertelli of Bertelli’s Foundry concerning the reproduction of Remington bronzes. By March 18, 1910, Eva was quite satisfied. She commented in her diary “All is going Beautifully, many bronzes sold.” Eva was not experienced in the business world, especially the art business world, but she seemed to understand the value of her husband’s work. When Knoedler informed her that they had a buyer who would pay $1800 for a Remington painting, Eva refused stating, “will not sell them cheap.” Eva also knew that selling Remington’s paintings was a one time deal; there would be no others produced. However, she could continue to reproduce Remington’s bronzes as long as she controlled the original molds. In that way a steady supply of bronzes, if marketed efficiently, would continue to supplement her income.
One way to market Remington’s art was to build on his image as a man who associated with those who became legendary in the annals of western history. Men like General Nelson A. Miles who ran the campaign against the Cheyenne in south central Montana, and characters like Colonel William F. Cody, Owen Wister, and perhaps the most notable, Theodore Roosevelt. So when it was suggested to Eva that she needed to gather material for a Remington book, she immediately seized the opportunity and asked Fred’s associates to send her their stories about her husband’s western adventures. While Eva waited patiently for them to send her their memories of Frederic, she sought further ways to generate income and economize. She asked several institutions, including the Smithsonian, to assess and offer a bid for Remington’s collection of Native American Artifacts. And , she placed the Ridgefield estate on the market. Eva proved her business acumen. In 1910, fifty-one percent of her income came from the sale of Remington art, and in 1911 and 1912, she received over seventy percent of her income from her husband’s artwork.
At the very same time that Eva was marketing Remington, the art consumer was beginning to recognize another illustrator of the American West, Charles Marion Russell. Historians seem to agree that Remington and Russell never met. However, as the story goes, they were both in Montana in 1881, where twenty year old Remington sought an escape from the mundane routine of everyday work life in New York, and where sixteen year old “Kid” Russell sought adventure as a cowboy on the Montana frontier. It was in Montana that both Remington and Russell started their careers as artists of western life. But, it was Remington who was the first to receive national recognition as an illustrator for Harper’s Weekly and Colliers and as an artist of western landscape and sculpture. It was Eva Remington’s opinion that her husband “started the school and all must follow who do the West.” To many connoisseurs of western art, however, it was Charlie Russell who best represented the American West in his paintings. If this is true, the credit belongs to Russell’s wife, Nancy Cooper Russell.
Unlike Eva Remington, Nancy Russell took care of the business end of her husband’s career. So much so, that she was often criticized for her shrewd business ability and tough tactics when negotiating commissions and sales of her husband’s work. Nancy knew that after Charlie's death in 1926, she would need to “make a living” from his estate. Like Eva, Nancy inherited an estate that comprised real estate, various investments, and a sizable inventory of her husbands paintings and sculptures. In planning a marketing strategy for Charlie's art, Nancy had a gallery and showroom added to her newly constructed home , Trails End ,in Pasadena, California. From her studio, she displayed her husband’s work and sold direct to the public, thereby eliminating the costly commissions charged by most art galleries. Her next project was to take over the business end of publishing Charlie’s book of western stories entitled Trails Plowed Under , which at the time of Russell's death was in the planning stages with Doubleday Page and Company and ultimately published in 1927. By 1929, Nancy had also published a book entitled Good Medicine, a compilation of Russell’s beautifully illustrated letters.
Nancy was more successful than Eva in promoting Russell’s western image. Through her husband’s stories of the American West, Nancy kept Charlie's image alive in the American mind, which added to his popularity and the sales of his paintings and sculptures. And, while Nancy was enhancing her husband’s image, she was also planning memorial exhibits of his art in California and New York. Sales were so strong that Nancy worried about the depletion of her inventory. She realized that once Charlie’s paintings were sold, there would be no more income from that source. Nancy wrote that “It scares me when I think of what I will do when I have no more pictures...I don’t seem to get it into my head that Charlie is not coming back.”
Nancy Russell promoted her husband for two reasons. One was pecuniary; she needed the income. The other was that she believed that Charlie had expressed in his writings and art the true character of the American West, and she wanted him to be memorialized as the “last cowboy.” Ultimately, Russell’s unique way of expressing himself in a cowboy vernacular has become synonymous with western America, and his stories about cowboy life in Montana helped to create American nostalgia for a simpler time when the frontier meant the freedom of the open range, the independence of the cowboy, explorer and trapper, and the romantic vistas inhabited by Native Americans.
Nancy Russell maintained her husband’s estate until her death in 1940. It was difficult for her to keep sales up during the economic depression of the 1930s, but she did manage to maintain an income from the estate. Her only concession to the economy was that she was forced to cut her asking price on many paintings. At the time of her death, her estate was valued around $50,000, which included 31 oil paintings, 41 watercolors, 9 black and white drawings and 136 bronzes. Most of the value of her estate was in real estate.The appraised value of the Russell art was only, $3315.
Eva Remington died in 1918, nine years after the death of her husband. Although she was able to market Fred’s art during the rest of her life, after her death Frederic Remington more or less dropped from public mind for many years. This was mostly due to the haphazard way in which her executors handled her estate and the remaining Remington art. She bequeathed her estate to the Ogdensburg, New York Public Library. Library personnel stored Remington’s unsold sketches, paintings and bronzes in an unsecured area of the library where a fire broke out. Fortunately, most of the paintings were salvaged and transferred to what ultimately became the Remington Art museum.
Frederic Remington was the first to forge the way west when he introduced the eastern art patron to his western characters and landscapes. Nancy Russell’s expert marketing skills helped place her husband alongside Frederic Remington as America’s most notable artist of western life.
Shortly after Frederic Remington’s death in Canton, New York, his wife Eva returned to their home in Ridgefield, Connecticut, to begin the lonely task of putting her husband’s estate in order. She knew very little about their finances; it was within her culture to assume that her husband would take care of the business end of their marriage. Remington provided a good living through the sale of his paintings and sculptures but he also had a lot of debt. He was worried about his finances in 1907 after he lost money on investments due to a downturn in the economy. He was also concerned that he was over budget on the construction of their new country estate in Ridgefield. Unfortunately, at the time of his death from a ruptured appendix in late 1909, Frederic Remington’s estate, consisting of investments, real estate, and art, was valued surprisingly low, even in 1909-1910 dollars, at $75, 416. Eva was left with the arduous task of turning Remington’s estate into a source of income to sustain her in the high fashion to which she had become accustomed.
Within a month after Remington’s death, a representative from Knoedler’s Art Gallery in New York City advised Eva to sell her husband’s paintings “while the public was still interested.” Taking a cue from Knoedler and her lawyer, George Wright, Eva began taking charge of the necessary business of marketing Remington’s sketches, paintings and sculptures. As early as February, 1910, she met with a representative from Collier’s Magazine about reproducing the sketches Remington sold to Colliers, and she met with Riccardo Bertelli of Bertelli’s Foundry concerning the reproduction of Remington bronzes. By March 18, 1910, Eva was quite satisfied. She commented in her diary “All is going Beautifully, many bronzes sold.” Eva was not experienced in the business world, especially the art business world, but she seemed to understand the value of her husband’s work. When Knoedler informed her that they had a buyer who would pay $1800 for a Remington painting, Eva refused stating, “will not sell them cheap.” Eva also knew that selling Remington’s paintings was a one time deal; there would be no others produced. However, she could continue to reproduce Remington’s bronzes as long as she controlled the original molds. In that way a steady supply of bronzes, if marketed efficiently, would continue to supplement her income.
One way to market Remington’s art was to build on his image as a man who associated with those who became legendary in the annals of western history. Men like General Nelson A. Miles who ran the campaign against the Cheyenne in south central Montana, and characters like Colonel William F. Cody, Owen Wister, and perhaps the most notable, Theodore Roosevelt. So when it was suggested to Eva that she needed to gather material for a Remington book, she immediately seized the opportunity and asked Fred’s associates to send her their stories about her husband’s western adventures. While Eva waited patiently for them to send her their memories of Frederic, she sought further ways to generate income and economize. She asked several institutions, including the Smithsonian, to assess and offer a bid for Remington’s collection of Native American Artifacts. And , she placed the Ridgefield estate on the market. Eva proved her business acumen. In 1910, fifty-one percent of her income came from the sale of Remington art, and in 1911 and 1912, she received over seventy percent of her income from her husband’s artwork.
At the very same time that Eva was marketing Remington, the art consumer was beginning to recognize another illustrator of the American West, Charles Marion Russell. Historians seem to agree that Remington and Russell never met. However, as the story goes, they were both in Montana in 1881, where twenty year old Remington sought an escape from the mundane routine of everyday work life in New York, and where sixteen year old “Kid” Russell sought adventure as a cowboy on the Montana frontier. It was in Montana that both Remington and Russell started their careers as artists of western life. But, it was Remington who was the first to receive national recognition as an illustrator for Harper’s Weekly and Colliers and as an artist of western landscape and sculpture. It was Eva Remington’s opinion that her husband “started the school and all must follow who do the West.” To many connoisseurs of western art, however, it was Charlie Russell who best represented the American West in his paintings. If this is true, the credit belongs to Russell’s wife, Nancy Cooper Russell.
Unlike Eva Remington, Nancy Russell took care of the business end of her husband’s career. So much so, that she was often criticized for her shrewd business ability and tough tactics when negotiating commissions and sales of her husband’s work. Nancy knew that after Charlie's death in 1926, she would need to “make a living” from his estate. Like Eva, Nancy inherited an estate that comprised real estate, various investments, and a sizable inventory of her husbands paintings and sculptures. In planning a marketing strategy for Charlie's art, Nancy had a gallery and showroom added to her newly constructed home , Trails End ,in Pasadena, California. From her studio, she displayed her husband’s work and sold direct to the public, thereby eliminating the costly commissions charged by most art galleries. Her next project was to take over the business end of publishing Charlie’s book of western stories entitled Trails Plowed Under , which at the time of Russell's death was in the planning stages with Doubleday Page and Company and ultimately published in 1927. By 1929, Nancy had also published a book entitled Good Medicine, a compilation of Russell’s beautifully illustrated letters.
Nancy was more successful than Eva in promoting Russell’s western image. Through her husband’s stories of the American West, Nancy kept Charlie's image alive in the American mind, which added to his popularity and the sales of his paintings and sculptures. And, while Nancy was enhancing her husband’s image, she was also planning memorial exhibits of his art in California and New York. Sales were so strong that Nancy worried about the depletion of her inventory. She realized that once Charlie’s paintings were sold, there would be no more income from that source. Nancy wrote that “It scares me when I think of what I will do when I have no more pictures...I don’t seem to get it into my head that Charlie is not coming back.”
Nancy Russell promoted her husband for two reasons. One was pecuniary; she needed the income. The other was that she believed that Charlie had expressed in his writings and art the true character of the American West, and she wanted him to be memorialized as the “last cowboy.” Ultimately, Russell’s unique way of expressing himself in a cowboy vernacular has become synonymous with western America, and his stories about cowboy life in Montana helped to create American nostalgia for a simpler time when the frontier meant the freedom of the open range, the independence of the cowboy, explorer and trapper, and the romantic vistas inhabited by Native Americans.
Nancy Russell maintained her husband’s estate until her death in 1940. It was difficult for her to keep sales up during the economic depression of the 1930s, but she did manage to maintain an income from the estate. Her only concession to the economy was that she was forced to cut her asking price on many paintings. At the time of her death, her estate was valued around $50,000, which included 31 oil paintings, 41 watercolors, 9 black and white drawings and 136 bronzes. Most of the value of her estate was in real estate.The appraised value of the Russell art was only, $3315.
Eva Remington died in 1918, nine years after the death of her husband. Although she was able to market Fred’s art during the rest of her life, after her death Frederic Remington more or less dropped from public mind for many years. This was mostly due to the haphazard way in which her executors handled her estate and the remaining Remington art. She bequeathed her estate to the Ogdensburg, New York Public Library. Library personnel stored Remington’s unsold sketches, paintings and bronzes in an unsecured area of the library where a fire broke out. Fortunately, most of the paintings were salvaged and transferred to what ultimately became the Remington Art museum.
Frederic Remington was the first to forge the way west when he introduced the eastern art patron to his western characters and landscapes. Nancy Russell’s expert marketing skills helped place her husband alongside Frederic Remington as America’s most notable artist of western life.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
The Rich Cultural Mosaic of the American West
When traveling through the Wind River Valley on highway 26 west of Dubois, Wyoming, travelers cannot help but notice the fourteen-foot limestone monument standing along side the road. Carved in the limestone is the image of a man with his broadax and saw who is standing before the Wind River with a skidder and team pulling logs. The stone monument is dedicated to the Tie Hacks, those hardy men from Scandinavia who worked in forest camps cutting railroad ties for the Wyoming Tie and Timber Company. We don’t often read about the Scandinavians, the Germans, the Italians or most other northern or eastern Europeans who found economic opportunities in America, especially opportunities in the American West. But, it is from these people that we have the rich cultural mosaic in the American West that contributes to who we are as Americans.
From 1914 until after the Second World War, the Wyoming Tie and Timber Company operated in the Wind River Mountains. They located their headquarters, consisting of a workhouse, bunkhouse and commissary, twenty miles west of Dubois on what is presently the Triangle C Ranch. The Scandinavians were well suited to work in the Wyoming Mountains cutting trees because they worked in similar industries in their native lands. They were men who were in great physical shape and had extraordinary strength, which enabled them to accomplish the difficult tasks of cutting trees, scoring the sides with their ax and then, while standing on top of the tree, with one swift downward motion, shinning off the bark until the tie had the desired polished smoothness. When the ties were ready, the men sent them down man-made flumes to the Wind River, where they floated the ties nearly a hundred miles to the Chicago-Northwestern railhead in Riverton. The Tie Hacks usually could cut fifty ties a day; the company paid them ten cents a tie. By the Second World War, when there was a shortage of ties, Hackers could get as much as fifty cents a piece for their ties.
Flume
Those who still remember the era of the Tie Hack tell many stories. These tales relate the rugged individualism of the men and how they worked hard, played hard and drank hard. Their recreational time was usually spent consuming copious amounts of Alcohol, either in camp or in one of the numerous saloons in Dubois. Because the Hacks worked for long stretches at a time in the forest camps without much of a break, when they had free time it was usually spent in what would be considered unrestrained activities. Their recreation was akin to that of the cowboy in the late nineteenth century who enjoyed many town activities after a three month trail drive.
Tie Hacks, when they first started in the camps, spoke little English. For this reason, perhaps, the Tie Hack community was a close-knit group of people who relied on one another for companionship and support, which was especially welcomed during the long Wyoming winters. It was during the winter season that most of the railroad ties were cut. But, the abundance of snow in the mountains tended to isolate the tie camps and the residents from the outside world. At times the snow was so deep that it buried the cabins. Snow canals had to be dug to connect one cabin to another and the only way to get into the buildings was through a snow tunnel. In the early years, when transportation was difficult, camps could be snowed in for three or four months. This would have been a tough environment for many Americans, but Scandinavians were used to alpine travel. Skiing was the most efficient method of transportation and Tie Hackers traveled from camp to camp or to headquarters on homemade boards or horse drawn sleds. It was worth the arduous travel to headquarters where the men might gather for impromptu dances (with the small female contingent from town), play cards, or sing songs and listen to stories about the old country.
Tie Hack Camp
During World War Two, when there was great demand for railroad ties, the Wyoming Tie and Timber Company experienced a reduction in available Tie Hacks because many found they could make more money in the lumber industry on the Pacific Coast than in the forest camps in Wyoming. Wyoming Tie and Timber authorities found another source of man power after the federal government constructed a Prisoner of War Camp one mile west of Douglas, Wyoming. Soon after the opening of the camp in 1943, many of the 2500 German and Italian prisoners were reassigned to outlying camps to work in the timber and agriculture areas of the state. Since the prisoners were inexperienced in cutting and hewing ties, the State Department of Education employed experienced cutters as instructors to teach the POWs the skills of the lumber trade. At the camp west of Dubois, the most pressing need for men was as tree cutters and River pigs to work the river drive. In all, the experience of the POWs must have been more favorable than perhaps an America POW’s experience in German Prisoner of War camps. At the Dubois camp the POWs lived in a tent village, received good food and they seemed to like the work. One POW later commented, “What a way to spend the war.”
As the timber industry became more mechanized, and as transportation and roads improved, there was less and less need for skilled men. By 1946, the number of ties produced by the Wyoming Timber and Tie Company was reduced to 150,000 a year—down from 670,000 produced in the late 1920s. After the decline of the Tie Industry around Dubois, many of the Hacks stayed in the area, where they put their energy into establishing businesses or engaged in farming or ranching enterprises. Their influenced in the area can be seen in the prosperity of the region and in the diversity of the Wind River Valley culture.
From 1914 until after the Second World War, the Wyoming Tie and Timber Company operated in the Wind River Mountains. They located their headquarters, consisting of a workhouse, bunkhouse and commissary, twenty miles west of Dubois on what is presently the Triangle C Ranch. The Scandinavians were well suited to work in the Wyoming Mountains cutting trees because they worked in similar industries in their native lands. They were men who were in great physical shape and had extraordinary strength, which enabled them to accomplish the difficult tasks of cutting trees, scoring the sides with their ax and then, while standing on top of the tree, with one swift downward motion, shinning off the bark until the tie had the desired polished smoothness. When the ties were ready, the men sent them down man-made flumes to the Wind River, where they floated the ties nearly a hundred miles to the Chicago-Northwestern railhead in Riverton. The Tie Hacks usually could cut fifty ties a day; the company paid them ten cents a tie. By the Second World War, when there was a shortage of ties, Hackers could get as much as fifty cents a piece for their ties.
Flume Those who still remember the era of the Tie Hack tell many stories. These tales relate the rugged individualism of the men and how they worked hard, played hard and drank hard. Their recreational time was usually spent consuming copious amounts of Alcohol, either in camp or in one of the numerous saloons in Dubois. Because the Hacks worked for long stretches at a time in the forest camps without much of a break, when they had free time it was usually spent in what would be considered unrestrained activities. Their recreation was akin to that of the cowboy in the late nineteenth century who enjoyed many town activities after a three month trail drive.
Tie Hacks, when they first started in the camps, spoke little English. For this reason, perhaps, the Tie Hack community was a close-knit group of people who relied on one another for companionship and support, which was especially welcomed during the long Wyoming winters. It was during the winter season that most of the railroad ties were cut. But, the abundance of snow in the mountains tended to isolate the tie camps and the residents from the outside world. At times the snow was so deep that it buried the cabins. Snow canals had to be dug to connect one cabin to another and the only way to get into the buildings was through a snow tunnel. In the early years, when transportation was difficult, camps could be snowed in for three or four months. This would have been a tough environment for many Americans, but Scandinavians were used to alpine travel. Skiing was the most efficient method of transportation and Tie Hackers traveled from camp to camp or to headquarters on homemade boards or horse drawn sleds. It was worth the arduous travel to headquarters where the men might gather for impromptu dances (with the small female contingent from town), play cards, or sing songs and listen to stories about the old country.
Tie Hack CampDuring World War Two, when there was great demand for railroad ties, the Wyoming Tie and Timber Company experienced a reduction in available Tie Hacks because many found they could make more money in the lumber industry on the Pacific Coast than in the forest camps in Wyoming. Wyoming Tie and Timber authorities found another source of man power after the federal government constructed a Prisoner of War Camp one mile west of Douglas, Wyoming. Soon after the opening of the camp in 1943, many of the 2500 German and Italian prisoners were reassigned to outlying camps to work in the timber and agriculture areas of the state. Since the prisoners were inexperienced in cutting and hewing ties, the State Department of Education employed experienced cutters as instructors to teach the POWs the skills of the lumber trade. At the camp west of Dubois, the most pressing need for men was as tree cutters and River pigs to work the river drive. In all, the experience of the POWs must have been more favorable than perhaps an America POW’s experience in German Prisoner of War camps. At the Dubois camp the POWs lived in a tent village, received good food and they seemed to like the work. One POW later commented, “What a way to spend the war.”
As the timber industry became more mechanized, and as transportation and roads improved, there was less and less need for skilled men. By 1946, the number of ties produced by the Wyoming Timber and Tie Company was reduced to 150,000 a year—down from 670,000 produced in the late 1920s. After the decline of the Tie Industry around Dubois, many of the Hacks stayed in the area, where they put their energy into establishing businesses or engaged in farming or ranching enterprises. Their influenced in the area can be seen in the prosperity of the region and in the diversity of the Wind River Valley culture.
Writing the American West as Historical Fiction
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By and large, it is not the fault of the writer that they might be confused to what constitutes historical fiction. In recent years there has been a renewal in the popularity of the genre, and I think some authors believe identifying their work as historical fiction will give them a leg up in promoting their books. For the most part, they act out of ignorance. A quick search of the internet for a definition of historical fiction proves my point; the definition is varied and confusing. <>
Here are some basic guidelines in writing historical fiction and the things that I look for when I review the genre. If the events in the story take place at least fifty years ago, the story could qualify. But, the key word here is “events.” A good historical fiction author situates the characters and action in their stories in an historical environment where the characters and story line interact with real events on the historical timeline. The story has to be historically accurate. <>
In order for historical fiction to be historically accurate the author should have researched the historical record so that place, people, and events in the historical past are faultlessly correct. For example, if the story takes place in Virginia City, Montana in the nineteenth century, the reader should come away from reading the book with a feel for the gold mining era and the once capital city named by the Southern gentlemen and women. These individuals migrated from the South after the Civil War to regain their wealth in the West. Research of nineteenth century newspapers in and around
Some of the more popular authors who have successfully written historical fiction about the American West are James Michener, (Centennial and
Historical fiction that is not accurate historically distorts the historical record and fails to teach western history. Instead, the reader will have little sense of the West and the historical legacy.
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