Sunday, September 14, 2014

Past, Present & Posterity: Wyoming 1890 -1990

By Richard Prosch


In 1990, an unlikely group of fiction writers, poets, visual artists, teachers, students and celebrities came together to celebrate Wyoming's centennial with a unique micro press book as rich in content as it is
now, 24 years later, hard to find.

Past, Present & Posterity: Wyoming 1890-1990 is a spiral bound mash-up with short contributions (one to three pages each) from every corner of the arts and every part of Wyoming's bright and varied culture. Everybody was invited and anybody could be represented. It was edited by Nancy Jennings, Linda Love, Sherry Tavegie and printed in Buffalo, Wyoming early in the year.

Living in Laramie, eking out a few bucks here and there as an artist, I was putting up a solo show of my western paintings and the director of the gallery, who knew I was also writing, suggested a I contribute something to the centennial project. My non-fiction piece describing an art project was accepted, and I kept it on my resume for a few years as a professional credit. When we moved to South Carolina, I promptly lost my only copy. Even a few years after publication it was hard to get a replacement. In fact, it was harder then than now with Amazon and AbeBooks.com available at our fingertips. I finally got a new copy a few weeks ago, and I'm still paging through it. 

Third generation rancher Charles Lawrence contributed a piece about historical cattle brands. Western novelist Les Wayne Merha, who wrote as "Les Wayne" gave us a history of the French-Canadian trapper Joseph LaRamee, he who the river, county and town are named after. TV's Morey Amsterdam contributed a song, and famed lawyer Gerry Spence sent in a familiar fable. Included here are art projects and poems, recipes and legends.  It's an odd mix, but what makes it work is each contributor's obvious love for their home state.

Keep an eye out for it. If you find a copy for less than $20, grab it up for your reference library. Get it for: 


Paula Taylor's bullet list of Flirtations with Handkerchief, Fan, Glove and Parasol.
.
George Fraker's step-by-step guide to constructing your own western saddle from scratch

Nadine Zowada's essay on dying yarn with natural dyes.

Marva Haukass piece on the Shosone method of brain tanning hides.
.
Patrick Walsh's story about the Famous Deadline of 1908

Get it for stories about Butch Cassidy, the Abe Lincoln monument on I-80, and the wildfires of 1988. 

It's a unique resource, and one I'm sure you'll enjoy when it crosses your path.  

A few copies are available at Amazon and AbeBooks.com 

Friday, September 12, 2014

Back in the Saddle Again
Part 2: P-Z


Here’s a crash course in saddle terminology for those who don’t know a cantle from a cinch ring. Bruce Grant, in How to Make Cowboy Horse Gear, lists the parts of the Western saddle as a tree (frame), the seat, the cantle, the horn, the swell and gullet, the front jockey and back jockey, skirt, fender (rosadero), stirrups, stirrup-leathers, cinch rings, latigo, conchas and tie-strings.




Pimple, postage stamp, kidney plaster, kidney pad: the cowboy’s name for an English saddle

Pommel: the front portion of a saddle (the fork) attached to the side-bars

Pommel bags, cantinas: saddlebags up front of a saddle

Pomo, manzana: the pommel of a Mexican saddle

Rear jockey, back jockey: the top skirt of a saddle under the cantle

Rig: a saddle

Rimfire saddle, rimmy: a Spanish rig, a saddle with a forward-placed cinch; the rear of the saddle was inclined to rise when a rope-dally was made on the horn and there was a lot of steer on the other end of the rope

Saddle-blankets: in the Old West, the average cowman used an ordinary blanket, folded according to taste, to protect the horse’s back against the chafing of the saddle. It was preferably made of wool, but if made of cotton it was larger and folded more to produce the necessary thickness. The finest blankets were Navajo – less inclined to crinkle than a common wool blanket, yet possessing pliancy. Riders who used the double rig or Texas rig generally covered a larger area of the horse than those favoring a single cinch rig

Saddle bow: the arched forepart of a saddle-tree

Saddles: an adaptation of the Spanish war saddle, itself probably from the Spanish Moors, who probably developed their design from that of the Arabs. The main difference in the Western saddle is the high horn, used by the cowboy for roping. Saddles were (and are) usually named for the maker or the shape of the tree. A number of different rigs were used in the West, and to a great extent, in the early days a man’s rig could indicate whence he came. A Texas rig had two cinches, the center-fire rig belonged fundamentally to California, while the El Paso-Albuquerque was a three-quarter rig, a style that belonged also to the Northwest (for example, the Montana rig). In later days, a man could more easily use the rig of his fancy. The very early saddles of the Mexicans in Texas had a broad-based horn that instantly identified it: the apple was flat-topped. Early Anglo saddles constituted the bare minimum to separate a man’s butt from his saddle blanket. The saddle-tree was covered with rawhide only, and the over-all housing was a loose detachable cover. The Mexican models were adopted by the Mountain Men and frontiersmen, modified further by the Texans and others to their own needs. The saddle-types of the Mountain Men were used by early cattlemen in the north (whose cattle were the ones traded by travelers on the Oregon Trail and California Trails back in the 1840’s and 50’s). One early type of saddle was the Mother Hubbard: under this, most of the rigging disappeared. Toward the end of the century, once again most of the rigging was revealed, though the style did not revert entirely to the early model that had only an upper skirt and no fenders. The new style retained the deep fender that had been used with the mochila and had a full squared skirt under the tree. Swelled forks came in at the end of the century, and some riders had adopted the roll cantle by this time. The old-timers, however, stuck with the old slick-fork.

Saddle-tree, tree: the frame and foundation of the saddle, usually of wood covered with rawhide. It was measured from the top center of the cantle to the rear of the horn

Salea: a softened sheepskin placed between the horse’s back and the saddle blanket

Silla: a chair or seat; hence, a saddle

Slick-fork: the fork of a saddle that curved down smoothly as opposed to a swelled-fork

Spanish-rig: a saddle with one cinch directly beneath the saddle horn

Squaw saddle: a padded blanket or quilt used as a saddle, after the fashion of the old aparejo

Stirrup, stirrup-iron: the support for the rider’s foot that hangs from the saddle; to use the term correctly, the stirrup includes both stirrup-iron and stirrup-leather. In the early days, this was not made of iron at all, but carved from a single piece of wood. Later, the wood was bound with rawhide or wrapped with metal until eventually, the support was made of iron. Compared with Eastern or European stirrup-iron, those of the West were heavy and utilitarian, often covered with tapaderos to protect the foot. They were an essential part of the working equipment of the cattleman, and great strain could be put on the leather and iron during working of the cattle.

Stirrup-leather: the broad strap hanging on each side of the saddle which supported the stirrup-iron

Stock saddle: a saddle especially made for the working of cattle, strong enough in the horn and tree to withstand the enormous stress and strain laid on it by roping animals

Sudaderos: the leather lining of a saddle’s skirt

Swell-fork: the fork of a saddle which swelled out on either side below the horn

Tablas del fuste: saddle-tree bars or slats

Tackaberry buckle, tackberry buckle: a cinch-buckle that took two wraps of the latigo and hooked into the cinch ring

Tapaderos, taps, tapaderas: (Spanish: “thing that covers”) a covering on the forepart of the stirrup to protect the foot from brush and other obstacles. A very necessary piece of equipment in brush country. It was also more than that, for it prevented the foot from being put fully through the stirrup-iron, which would trap the foot if the rider fell from the horse. In pre-Anglo days, Mexicans and Californios put only their toes into the stirrup-irons, using a shallow tap which lay flat against the broad stirrup-iron

Texas rig, Texas saddle: the double-rigged saddle favored by Texans; a stock saddle with a high cantle and horn

Texas skirt: a square saddle-skirt such as found on a Texas rig. Popular east of the Rocky Mountains from Texas to Canada, including part of Western Canada, while the Spanish style of rounded skirt prevailed in the coastal states. Around 1900, the two styles were combined, generally speaking, by the Miles City, Montana saddlemakers. From that time on, the styles were mostly mixed throughout the west

Texas tree: a saddle-tree of a kind used on a Texas rig

Three-quarter rig, Montana rig: a saddle with its cinch just forward of the center-fire position; also found in the El Paso-Albuquerque rig

Tie-strings, tie-straps: the thongs or straps on the upper flank saddle-skirts by which bedrolls and other equipment was fastened behind the cantle

Sources:
A Dictionary of the Old West, Peter Watts, 1977
Dictionary of the American West, Win Blevins, 1993
J.E.S Hays
www.jeshays.com

hays.jes@gmail.com

Wednesday, September 10, 2014

Ranger Jim's Ramblings for September

Since Kathleen has just given us a terrific post about the Alamo, for this month I'll be keeping things in Texas. Specifically, the Texas Rangers. Good, honest men trying to uphold the law, bigoted thugs and outlaws, throwing their weight around, or somewhere in between?

For over a hundred years, the Texas Rangers' reputation was that of tough, hardened lawmen, doing a fine job of ridding Texas of all sorts of desperadoes. Later, in the turmoil of the 1960s and 1970s, the revisionist historians started painting the Rangers with one broad, black brush.

The truth, of course, lies somewhere in the middle, as it usually does. Despite what the revisionists would like you to believe, most Texans, and that includes Texans of Mexican ancestry, welcomed the Rangers as they enforced the law, at least up until the late 19th century. (The notable exception being the El Paso Salt War, which I've discussed on this blog previously). There were in fact quite a few Rangers of Mexican ancestry. It was only later, roughly
from 1885 or so and on, after much wrongdoing by the Rangers, that Hispanics began to truly distrust them.

Basically, from years of studying the Rangers, I can say that, yes, they were quite often very prejudiced, and did some horrible things, such as stacking the bodies of Mexicans they had killed in a pile in the middle of Brownsville like so much cordwood. They often dispensed justice on their own, without taking outlaws to trial.

However, the good they did, and still do, far outweighed, and still outweighs,  the bad. We cannot judge the frontier era Rangers in the context of our time, but of theirs. They were men doing a hard, often thankless job, for low pay, and facing death almost every day. Many of their roughest tactics they learned from the very men they were chasing. They had to learn to "fight fire with fire", and use every possible tactic and weapon at their disposal to bring justice, and finally civilization, to the vast, lawless expanses of Texas. Our leaders could take a lesson from those old-time Rangers in dealing with Al-Queda and ISIS/ISIL today. Sometimes you have to forget trying to do everything completely "by the book", and do whatever is necessary to make the world, or in the frontier era, Texas, safe for honest folks.

"Ranger" Jim

Monday, September 8, 2014

Into the Valley of Death: Texas's Immortal 32

By Kathleen Rice Adams

Bejar, Feby. 24th. 1836

To the People of Texas & All Americans in the World—

Fellow Citizens & compatriots—

I am besieged, by a thousand or more of the Mexicans under Santa Anna — I have sustained a continual Bombardment & cannonade for 24 hours & have not lost a man — The enemy has demanded a surrender at discretion, otherwise, the garrison are to be put to the sword, if the fort is taken — I have answered the demand with a cannon shot, & our flag still waves proudly from the walls — I shall never surrender or retreat.  Then, I call on you in the name of Liberty, of patriotism & everything dear to the American character, to come to our aid, with all dispatch — The enemy is receiving reinforcements daily & will no doubt increase to three or four thousand in four or five days. If this call is neglected, I am determined to sustain myself as long as possible & die like a soldier who never forgets what is due to his own honor & that of his country — Victory or Death.

William Barrett Travis.
Lt.  Col. comdt.


The Alamo, 1854
At dawn on March 1, 1836, the only reinforcements to respond to Travis’s urgent appeal fought their way into the Alamo. The Gonzales Ranging Company of Mounted Volunteers, a hastily organized cadre of boys and men ages 16 to 54, forged through a line of 4,000 to 6,000 Mexican soldados, dodging fire from their compatriots atop the mission’s walls.

All but three of the rangers rode into history as the Immortal 32.

The story started months earlier in Gonzales, a settlement in DeWitt’s Colony, one of the original empresario land grants in the Mexican state of Coahuila y Tejas. Established in 1825, Gonzales became known as “the Lexington of Texas” when the first shot in the Texas Revolution was fired there Oct. 2, 1835. The Battle of Gonzales began over a cannon the Mexican government had given the Texians in 1831 so they could protect themselves from frequent Indian attacks. In September 1835, as disputes between the Texians and the Mexican government heated up, the governor of Coahuila y Tejas sent 100 Mexican soldiers to retrieve the cannon.

The men of Gonzales — all eighteen of them — refused to give up the artillery. Defiant to the core, they told the soldados to “come and take it.” The Mexicans tried, the men of Gonzales — later known as the Old Eighteen — held their ground until reinforcements arrived, and the resulting skirmish went to the Texians.

The Mexican Army did not take the defeat well.

This cannon, displayed at the Gonzales Memorial Museum,
may be the disputed artillery. (courtesy Larry D. Moore)
Four months later, when Travis, already besieged, sent his final appeal, the men of Gonzales and the surrounding area felt honor-bound to go to the defense of the Alamo defenders. Twenty-five men left Gonzales on the evening of Feb. 27. More joined the group as it traveled. When they reached San Antonio de Béxar, they spent two days trying to figure a way past the sea of Mexican troops. At 3 a.m. on March 1 — knowing their chances of survival were slim — the rangers made a mad dash for the mission gates, braving the fire of Mexican soldiers and Alamo sentries who mistook them for enemy combatants.

The Immortal 32 fell with the Alamo on March 6, never to see the wild land for which they died become an independent republic. They composed about 20 percent of the Anglo casualties. Mexican troops burned the bodies of all the Alamo defenders, whom they considered traitors.

A crypt in the San Fernando Cathedral purports to hold the
ashes of the Alamo defenders. Historians believe it is
more likely the ashes were buried near the Alamo.
The majority of the Immortal 32 were husbands, fathers, and landowners. Five had been among the Old Eighteen, and one was the younger brother of an Old Eighteen member.

The Immortal 32


Isaac G. Baker, 21
John Cain, 34
George Washington “Wash” Cottle, 25 (brother of an Old Eighteen member)
David P. Cummins, 27
Jacob C. Darst, 42 (Old Eighteen)
John Davis
Squire Daymon, 28
William Dearduff, 25
Charles Despallier, 24
Almaron Dickinson (Old Eighteen)
William Fishbaugh
John Flanders, 36
Dolphin Ward Floyd, 32
Galba Fuqua, 16
John E. Garvin, about 40
John E. Gaston, 17
James George, 34
Thomas Jackson (Old Eighteen)
John Benjamin Kellogg II, 19
Andrew Kent, 44
George C. Kimble, 33
William Philip King, 16
Jonathan L. Lindley, 22
Albert Martin, 28 (Old Eighteen)
Jesse McCoy, 32
Thomas R. Miller, 40 (Old Eighteen)
Isaac Millsaps, 41
George Neggan, 28
William E. Summers, 24
George W. Tumlinson, 22
Robert White, 30
Claiborne Wright, 26

Three men who rode into the Alamo with the Immortal 32 survived because they were sent out March 3 as couriers or foragers. All three were attempting to return to the Alamo when it fell.

Byrd Lockhart, 54, later served in the Texas army.
John William Smith, 44, became the first mayor of San Antonio.
Andrew Jackson Sowell, 21, became a Texas Ranger.

A monument in the Alamo Shrine commemorates the valor of the Immortal 32, as does an entire cemetery in Gonzales's Pioneer Village.

A stone memorial on the Alamo grounds honors
the Immortal 32. (courtesty TheConduqtor)



Friday, September 5, 2014

The Bill & Bill Show with a Heck of an Ending

 by Phil Truman

A man once said to me, "Destiny ain't about chance, son; it's about choice." 

He'd spoken that jewel after I'd made a particularly stupid mistake in my young life. At the time I had to think on that one for a spell, but my long and winding journey since has taught me it's true enough for the most part.

You take, for example the outlaw Bill Doolin. Doolin made a long string of bad choices to complete his destiny, but in December of 1895 if he hadn't decided to visit a particular spa for a hot mineral bath in Eureka Springs, Arkansas, maybe he wouldn't have been gunned down near Lawton, Indian Territory in August, 1896.

In the spring of 1895 Doolin and his gang had robbed a train cutting through the I.T. and had gotten away with a $50,000 army payroll. Rumor had it that Bill had in mind to retire after that big haul to spend more time with his young wife and son. But first he wanted to take a sojourn to the reputed Eureka Springs therapeutic baths to soothe some residual aches and pains from old gunshot wounds he'd collected over the years.

Another man of destiny, Deputy U.S. Marshal Bill Tilghman, had been in pursuit of Doolin for some time, and getting wind of the outlaw gone off to Eureka, followed up on the lead. But no sense traveling all that way, Tilghman must've thought, without partaking in one of the famous hot baths himself, so that's what he decided to do, Bill Doolin could wait. When he entered the bathhouse he was surprised to see Doolin in another room sitting on a couch reading a newspaper. Well, no time like the present.

The lawman pulled his Peacemaker and approached Doolin rapidly, pointing the revolver at the reclining outlaw's ear. "Bill Doolin," Tilghman announced. "You're under arrest."

Startled, the outlaw started for his own gun under his coat, but Tilghman grabbed Doolin's sleeve pulling it tight and preventing the fugitive from unbuttoning his coat to get to his gun. Tilghman held him there and Doolin continued to resist until the marshal allowed as how he'd go ahead and blow Bill's brains out if he didn't give it up. Doolin complied.

Tilghman telegraphed back to the Oklahoma Territory capital of Guthrie that he'd captured Bill Doolin and was bringing him in. Heck Thomas and several other deputy marshals met Tilghman and his prisoner at the Guthrie train station. Word had gotten out about Doolin's capture, so a crowd of about 2,000 crowded around the depot and along the streets to get a glimpse of the renowned outlaw. Many citizens stopped by the marshal's office that afternoon to meet Doolin and congratulate Tilghman.

Bill Doolin
Nobody ever figured the notorious Bill Doolin would ever be brought in alive, but if anybody could it'd be one of the three "Oklahoma Guardsmen" as the deputies were known--Tilghman, Chris Madsen, and Heck Thomas. Later that same evening Doolin was taken to the finest restaurant and hotel in Guthrie for dinner then returned to his jail cell.

During the months' long stay in the Guthrie jail awaiting trial, Doolin's celebrity status wore off, as did the outlaw's patience with being locked up. In June of 1896 an old gang mate of his, "Dynamite Dick" Clifton, was brought in and became Doolin's cellmate. The two started hatching a plan for an escape, and in July Bill feigned an illness and when he got to the infirmary, stripped the guard of his firearm, broke out his pard Dynamite Dick along with seven other inmates, and took off.


The jailbreak had occurred on Deputy Thomas' watch, which he apparently took personal, making it his mission to haul Doolin back to the Territory capital jail dead or alive.

By late August word came around that Doolin was spotted in the vicinity of his father-in-law's store in Lawton down near Ft. Sill. Thomas formed a posse and lit a shuck southward.

On the evening of August 24th, some young boys who knew Doolin told him they'd come across a group of lawmen camping outside of town, and one of them was asking if they knew the whereabouts of Bill. Around midnight Doolin saddled his horse and made provisions for a long ride. He led his horse down a quiet moonlit lane wary and jumpy at every shadow. He'd armed himself with two pistols; he carried a Winchester.

Heck Thomas
Deputy Heck Thomas stood behind a tree in the dark shadows at the edge of the lane, holding a 10-gauge coach gun, awaiting Doolin's approach. His men were spread out on both sides.

"Stop right there, Doolin," Thomas shouted. "U.S. Marshals, you're under arrest."

Another deputy across the road shouted, "Put your hands up, you're surrounded."

Doolin fired his rifle wildly in Thomas' direction then drew a pistol aiming toward the other voice. But before he could get off that second shot, Thomas let loose with the shotgun, the double aught slugs striking Doolin in the chest. A fusillade from the possemen followed, but Heck Thomas' buckshot had been sufficient. The bullet-riddled body of the outlaw Bill Doolin lay dead in the moonlight, the last choice made to reach his destiny.

Phil Truman is the author of the award-winning historical western novel,  Red Lands Outlaw, the Ballad of Henry Starra sports inspirational about small town schoolboy football entitled GAME, an American Novel; and Treasure Kills (formerly Legends of Tsalagee), a mystery/adventure in a small town.

He's currently working on a series of western shorts put together in a volume called West of the Dead Line, the first five stories of which are available on Amazon in e-format only for 99 cents each. Volume I - eight stories in all - will be available in electronic format in the Fall of 2014.









Wednesday, September 3, 2014

Save Longmire!


Troy D. Smith

I'm going to step away from my regularly scheduled topic to discuss something near and dear to my heart: the TV series Longmire, which just finished its third season (with a cliffhanger) and was then summarily canceled by A & E even though it is their second-highest show (behind Duck Dynasty.)



Are those people nuts, or what?

Actually, I think it's either A) a move toward having all their dramas produced in-house or B) a move to make room for more reality TV crap. Probably the latter, or a combination of the two.

For those who haven't been watching, the series is a contemporary crime drama set in the sheriff's department of the fictional Absaroka County, Wyoming, and the neighboring Cheyenne reservation. Sheriff Walt Longmire is very much a modern-day cowboy- my wife has pointed out that he is the most Matt Dillon-like character on television since Matt Dillon. Plots include reservation politics and intrigue, Walt's search for his wife's murderer, and the various personal problems of his deputies (one of whom ran unsuccessfully for sheriff against Walt last season.) It's based on the novels by Craig Johnson.

You can learn more about the show at this blog, 10 Reasons to Save Longmire

It would really be a shame to lose this show, so if you're a fan spread the word on social media. The best hope is that a different network will pick it up and continue the show- which seems like a no-brainer, but many of us thought the same thing when Deadwood was canceled by HBO at the end of its third season (also in the middle of a cliffhanger.)


Speaking of which, something occurred to me recently. Gerald McRaney (Major Dad, Simon and Simon) was the insidious villain involved in the closing cliffhangers of both Longmire and Deadwood. A little digging revealed he was also the last bad guy shot by Matt Dillon in the last (1975) episode of Gunsmoke. Marshal Matt Dillon, Marshal Seth Bullock, Sheriff Walt Longmire- is any Wild West lawman tough enough to bring this bird down without losing his show in the process? And what happened to the other Simon, did this guy kill him? Marshal Raylan Givens of Justified did manage to bring him down a couple of seasons ago, but McRaney had only been on a couple of episodes, maybe he didn't have time to build up his mojo. I'm just sayin'.

Anyway, if you haven't seen Longmire it's on Netlix, check it out. If you like westerns you'll like Longmire.

Tuesday, September 2, 2014

The Day the Cowboys Quit


I hope you all had a safe and happy Labor Day- and that everyone paused to remember what the holiday is for, the celebration of the American worker. And nobody typifies the American worker more than the working cowboy- the real thing, even if nowadays he is more likely to herd cows with a pickup truck. It occurred to me yesterday that the Elmer Kelton novel I am about to discuss is the ideal Labor Day reading for a western fan- and if you're one of those folks who've never read it, I strongly urge you to do so. And add Kelton's The Time It Never Rained to your queue as well.

The Day the Cowboys Quit is one of those handful of novels that consistently makes it to the top of writers' and critics' all-time best westerns lists, and justifiably so. It has also made the reading lists of many university classes (I'll be taking over the teaching of Western U.S. History at my school after this year, and I plan to assign it.)

The plot revolves around the loosely fictionalized historical event known as the Tascosa Cowboy Strike of 1883. As he often does, Kelton plops us down in the middle of great social change; the rough-and-ready cattlemen of the early days are being fenced in by syndicates from Back East and the growing cities of the Midwest, men who understand business and capitalism and ledgers but know nothing about the cattle business and the men who made it run on the ground- men who had built a sense of community in which, once you were stove up, your old partners would do all they could to still keep you around.

The new managers introduce a litany of restrictive laws: cowboys were not allowed to use company horses for personal use, or build their own herds, or allow those who were not completely physically able anymore to hang around camp, not to mention cutting wages. Here is part of a conversation between corporate rancher Prosper Selkirk and the protagonist, the cowboy Hugh "Hitch" Hitchcock:

[Selkirk]"If I invest my entire fortune in a bad venture and lose it, nobody guarantees to take care of me the rest of my life. When a man gets on one of those bad horses he knows the risks: he implies his willingness to accept that risk when he agrees to the job."

[Hitch] "He accepts the job because he's partial to eatin'.'
"The same reason I take a risk and invest capital."
"There a difference between a man's limbs and his money."



The cowboys decide to go on strike. I found a copy of the real cowboys' demands at this site:

We, the undersigned cowboys of Canadian River, do by these presents agree to bind ourselves into the following obligations, viz:
First: that we will not work for less than $50 per mo. And we furthermore agree no one shall work for less than $50 per mo. after 31st of Mch.
Second: Good cooks shall also receive $50 per month.
Third: Any one running an outfit shall not work for less than $75 per mo.
Any one violating the above obligations shall suffer the consequences. Those not having funds to pay board after March 31 will be provided for for 30 days at Tascosa.

Note that GOOD cooks should get $50 a month.

I'll have to let you read the book yourself to find out how it turns out. many of you no doubt already have- I'd love to hear your comments about it.

I have taken a quote from Elmer Kelton as one of the guiding principles of my writing, and this book in particular exemplifies it: "I don't write about good guys in white hats fighting bad guys in black hats. I write about two guys in gray hats, one trying to bring about change and the other resisting it."

    --Troy D. Smith




Monday, September 1, 2014

Class and Race in the Frontier Army, Chapter II

Chapter 2


I’m going to keep on with the book, Class and Race in the Frontier Army. This session, let’s have a look at Chapter 2: The Mental Worlds of Officers.

The officers impressed me as very self-important, exceedingly courteous and cordial and charming in their broad-gauge views of current events and their unreserved candor in discussing all subjects.
—Robert McKay, civilian contract surgeon, U.S. Army

John Wayne, officer
Kevin Adams, author of the book, says, “Officers in the frontier army were part of a national movement with wide-ranging implications: the implicit recasting of the United States as a permanently class-based society. . . . Far from being ‘isolated’ from American society and culture, frontier officers were firmly in the mainstream.”

We must remember that most of the army officers of the day were graduates of West Point or perhaps one of the military academies such as VMI. College graduation in and of itself tended to propel the graduate into a higher class. And, says Adams, that meant that an officer had to be well read, even when serving on remote areas of the frontier.

Even while stationed at a one-company camp in a remote stretch of northern California in the late 1860s, Lieutenant Thaddues Capron and his wife, Jennie, were able to maintain their subscriptions to “Godley’s . . . the Atlantic . . . Harpers & Leslie’s Weekly’s, N.Y. Herald, London Illustrated News, besides many others.” According to Thaddeus, “By the papers we keep quite well posted in what is going on in the outside world.”

Later, Capron wrote his wife, “You can hardly imagine with what eagerness a newspaper is sought and perused—groups of officers sitting or standing around while one of the number reads aloud the news of the day.”

In some cases, writes Adams, it seemed that officers viewed their time in the field as more of a gentleman’s hunting trip than a professional military expedition.

Leisure time, he writes, an emblem of officers’ status as gentlemen, enabled them to fully engage with Gilded Age intellectual culture.

Capron’s diary from the late 1860s reads: “Inspection assumed this a.m. The most of the day spent in reading.”

Officers from the movie, Fort Apache
Army officers were also writers. Adams says that one-fourth of the men who graduated from West Point in the 1870s went on to publish books and articles on military topics. Others gave speeches or contributed to newspapers. And, “perhaps the most prolific author was Captain Charles  King of the 5th Cavalry, who was one of the most popular novelists of the late nineteenth century. Between the early 1880s and WWI, he wrote some 250 short stories, 38 books about the army in the West (with plots and atmosphere taken directly from his campaign diaries), and 34 books on other subjects; 27 of his novels were printed in multiple editions. . . . According to one historian, King’s work remains significant as ‘the first series of western novels that were regarded as serious literature in their day.’”

In addition to reading, music and theater were favorites among the officier corps. At Fort Hays, Kansas, for example, the 7th Cavalry Band played three hours of “sweet music” every day during the spring of 1868. Furthermore, officers of the 13th Infantry regiment might have attended eleven band concerts between June and November of 1886; concerts formal enough to merit printed programs.

Post-Civil War officers loved the theater, both to attend and to participate in. Says Adams: Captain Samuel J. Ovenshine’s personal papers provide an especially focused snapshot of army theater.

His papers included handbills from 44 plays performed at frontier posts and his letters highlight his commitment to theater. He helped form the “Fort Keogh Dramatic Club” and recruited club officers from the officer corps. The performed such plays as Macbeth, Robinson Crusoe, the Count of Monte Cristo, As You Like It, Uncle Tom’s Cabin, and Rip Van Winkle. Adams goes on to say, “Ovenshine’s was not an isolated experience. Active engagement in theater was common among officers."

I wonder how many army officers today are involved in theater.

Officers as scientists.

So-called scientists in the late nineteenth century tended to be generalists. In fact, not many “scientific” subjects were taught at universities of the day. Officers, however, often made scientific observations in their diaries and some in articles.

Concerning the Indians, Major Robert Dunlap Clarke wrote, “the principal tribes have a language of signs by which they communicate with one another with wonderful accuracy.”

Clarke’s diary had discourses on geology and speaks of disputes he had with fellow officers on the subject, he wrote of gypsum bluffs one day and cap rock on the top of bluffs another. He even has an entry doubting the intelligence of Colonel Merrill, who “thinks he has found a piece of gold-bearing quartz. Though it is probably nothing but a limestone or dark-hued marble.”

Troop C of the 3rd Cavalry
The strange thing is, all the while Clarke is writing discourses on geology and Indians, he was in the midst of an all-out Indian offensive against the three Bozeman Trail forts.

With civilians, the officers of the late nineteenth century had a belief that moral values colored all facets of life, and held a reverence for high culture, particularly the elements of America’s Anglo-Saxon Protestant heritage. Adams writes that “American elites after the Civil War recognized one another as members of the same tribe.”

For the American masses, he wrote, whether native-born or immigrant, genteel culture offered nothing at all. For the middle and upper classes, however, it offered one clear set of standards to govern public behavior.

The cultural standards and values of post-Civil War elites were not in their minds abstract truths, but instead, as one scholar notes, reflected a social hierarchy of stations and classes. . . . Gilded Age intellectual culture was not a world open to all, and the degree of allegiance to its exacting standards allowed members of the middle and upper classes to discern fellow tribesmen, while largely excluding nonwhites and those considered poor or ignorant.

This system of exclusions, which was built into the worldview of officers and others of the genteel, was deployed most powerfully against the American Indians. The officers’ interest in science, and their standpoint that Indians were “vanishing,” may have been the reasons for their seeking out Indian remains to send back to the East for “Scientific study.”

One example:

Officers of the 7th Cavalry at Wounded Knee
Lieutenants Robert G. Carter and Wentz Miller, along with the unit’s contract surgeon and Carter’s cook Bob, seized Comanche dead after a frontier skirmish, cut off their heads, and, “placing them in some gunny sacks, brought them back to be boiled out for future scientific knowledge.”

Adams concludes the chapter with: Conservative, sophisticated, and certain of their (deserved) place in the world, officers and their families thrived in a milieu of prosperous gentry.

Next month: Soldiers, Servants, or Slaves


Here's the chance of a lifetime. Well, chance of . . . well, maybe the chance you've been waiting for. Chuck Tyrell's Global eBook Award-winning novel, The Snake Den, can be downloaded free for five days only, September 1~5. This post is a little fast, but not much. Hit the link as soon as September first comes around.