First hand accounts of the 19th century

Slow as I am to catch on to some technologies, one thing has delighted me about email that I discovered a few years ago, about a year after I started blogging. You can write to professors, who are often authors, or even reporters, and they write back to you, often gregariously and personally. My experience in life has taught me that sometimes it takes people a while to get to know me (a morbid sense of humor, lack of common social skills and asking questions a little to direct at the wrong time – your basic Asperger Syndrome symptoms – might be the cause), but somehow in emailing, none of that is a problem.

A week or so ago I was communicating (email, of course) with an author of one of my favorite American history books, Joanne Freeman of Yale University, who wrote Affairs of Honor. I was asking her about something I had read in an article she had just published in The New York Times and she recommended to me a diary of a congressional clerk whose diary had been published under the name Witness to the Young Republic (1989). I Amazoned it and saw it was a truncated version of the diary of Benjamin Brown French, who I vaguely remembered reading about in Lincoln books. I only recollected that he was one of the few people I could think of who was quoted as actually having liked Mary Todd Lincoln and I knew he was at Lincoln's deathbed, but I couldn’t remember who he was otherwise. I plied through a few of my books and found a few quotes. It’s not that he had a very dramatic public life and I don’t think you would say anything he accomplished was “great.” His high point was as Commissioner of Public Buildings, first under his friend, Franklin Pierce and then others, including Lincoln. But he personally knew John Quincy Adams, Andrew Jackson, Martin van Buren, William Henry Harrison, John Tyler, James Polk, Zack Taylor, Millard Fillmore, James Pierce, James Buchanan, Abraham Lincoln, Andrew Johnson and Ulysses Grant. He had the right to name drop and dramatic things happened around him all the time.

Anyway, Witness was whittled down from about 4000 pages to a little over 600 and I’m grateful. Exciting things can’t have happened everyday and there is more than enough here to enjoy of the first hand accounts that have so much more authority than the second or third hand biography. And, it has provided for me this week’s post, combing through my bookshelf for interesting little first hand observations from history.

I’ll start with Mr. French’s observations about a fight in congress he observed, violence in congress being the topic of Professor Freeman’s article I had read:

“During Thursday another of those scenes, so disgraceful to the House of Representavies, occurred in that body. Mr. Wise had made some remarks to which Mr. Stanly alluded in a manner that W. thought malevolent & unkind. He went to Mr. Stanly’s seat to remonstrate with him when angry words passed between them, and Wise, as he says in his statement to the Committee, since called Stanly “ a mean, contemptible puppy and miserable wretch,” to which Stanly replied[.] “You are a liar,” when Wise struck him, and fight instantly ensued. Nearly all the members rushed to the spot where they were engaged. The House was in Committee[.] Mr. Samson Mason endeavoured for two or three minutes, in vain, to restore order. I was at the Clerk’s table where I could see & hear all that transpired. The Speaker crying at the entent of his voice[.] “Order – order – order,” exclamations from the crowd of “Damn him[,] down with him” –“Where are your Bowie knives”—“Knock him down,” etc. Mr. Clarke, the Clerk of the House, seized the mace & went into the midst of the melee & exclaimed[,] “Gentlemen, respect the symbol of authority, respect yourselves.” Mr. Arnold & Mr. W. O. Butler of Ky. Were seen in violent personal contest, & Mr. Houston of Ala. Held an uplifted cane over Mr. Arnold’s head, which some member arrested in its descent, & thus, probably saved Mr. A. a bloody coxcomb. In two or three minutes order was restored, mainly, I believe, by the exertions of Dixon H. Lewis, whose seat was at the head of the aisle where the tumult occurred, & who, as soon as he could[,] moved his tremendous form into the middle of the fight & instantly separated the first belligerents, & there he stood like an elephant among a parcel of dogs, keeping them all at bay, & separating any who seemed inclined to fight, until the House came to order.”

I can’t help smiling thinking of Dennis Kucinic clinging to the leg of Marsha Blackburn as she pulls Barney Franks hair, Boehner and Pelosi having a slap fight and Debbie Wasserman Schultz karate chopping Dan Issa, but, unfortunately for C-Span, we have become a very civilized nation.

“In the midst of this, an officer from my center informed me that some important movement of the enemy was going on in his front, beyond that of the line with which we were engaged. Mounting a large rock, I was able to see a considerable body of the enemy moving by the flank in rear of their line engaged, and passing from the direction of the foot of Great Round Top through the valley toward the front of my left. The close engagement not allowing any change of front, I immediately stretched my regiment to the left, by taking intervals by the left flank, and at the same time “refusing” my left wing, so that it was nearly at right angles with my right, thus occupying about twice the extent of our ordinary front, some of the companies being brought into single rank when the nature of the ground gave sufficient strength or shelter. My officers and men understood my wishes so well that this movement was executed under fire, the right wing keeping up fire, without giving the enemy any occasion to seize or even to suspect their advantage. But we were not a moment too soon; the enemy’s flanking column having gained their desired direction, burst upon my left, where they evidently had expected an unguarded flank, with great demonstration."

Thus speaks Col. Joshua Chamberlain of the 20th Maine Infantry of a little piece of action named Little Round Top, one of the most dramatic actions at Gettysburg, where he had his troops perform the “right-wheel forward” maneuver to head off General Le Bell Hood’s Alabamians charging up the hill to their front and flank. Let's keep going:

“It was imperative to strike before we were struck by this overwhelming force in a hand-to-hand fight, which we could not probably have withstood or survived. At that crisis, I ordered the bayonet. The word was enough. It ran like fire along the line, from man to man, and rose into a shout, with which they sprang forward upon the enemy, now not 30 yards away. The effect was surprising; many of the enemy’s first line threw down their arms and surrendered. An officer fired his pistol at my head with one hand, while he handed me his sword with the other. Holding fast by our right, and swinging forward our left, we made an extended “right wheel,” before which the enemy’s second line broke and fell back, fighting from tree to tree, many being captured, until we had swept the valley and cleared the front of nearly our entire brigade.

Meanwhile, Captain Morrill with his skirmishers (sent out from my left flank), with some dozen or fifteen of the U.S. Sharpshooters who had put themselves under his direction, fell upon the enemy as they were breaking, and by his demonstrations, as well as his well-directed fire, added much to the effect of the charge.”

This from Chamberlain’s own papers, collected in Through Blood & Fire by Mark Nesbitt. Chamberlain, later a Major General and four time governor of Maine (beating the same poor guy three times in a row), and there for Lee’s surrender at Appomattox, got the Medal of Honor for Little Round Top, and we want our heroes to deserve their laurels. But, naturally, nothing can be simple, and Captain Holman S. Melcher later claimed that he was responsible for the famous bayonet charge, and there is some reason to believe it. Chamberlain acknowledges that his brave captain asked permission to charge and that he told Melcher that had already decided to give the order. Melcher ran to his troops and the “Bayonet” was very quickly heard down the line. Even Chamberlain stated in a speech that his order to charge with bayonets was never given or given imperfectly.

At Appomattox, he had his troops stand at attention and "carry arms" in tribute to the marching Confederate soldiers. It was not appreciated by Union soldiers, but, did not hurt his career or his popularity. I’ve been to Gettysburg three times now, to Little Round Top thrice, and along with the long rising plain where Pickett’s Charge failed, is my favorite spot - beautiful and interesting in its own right. I tried to imagine the scene where Chamberlain had his men honor their enemy, but wasn't sure where it took place. Probably should have asked.

Here’s a little Lincoln legend which came from the work of his law partner, Billy Herndon, a fascinating, if not so great western figure in his own right:

“He [Lincoln], in the years . . . 1833 & 4 was in love with a young lady in New Salem by the name of Mis[s] Ann Rutledge. She accepted the overtures of Lincoln and they were engaged to be . . . married. This young lady was a woman of exquisite beauty, but her intellect was quick – sharp – deep & philosophic as well as brilliant . . . a short time before the marriage was to be she took sick with the brain fever and died in 4 or 5 days. Lincoln went & saw her during her sickness – just before her death. Mr Lincolns friends after this sudden death of one whom his soul & heart dearly & [?] loved were compelled to keep watch and ward over Mr Lincoln, he being from the sudden shock somewhat temporarily deranged. We watched during storms – fogs – damp gloomy weather Mr Lincoln for fear of an accident. He said “I can never be reconcile[d] to have the snow – rains & storms to beat on her grave.”

David Donald, the late renowned Lincoln scholar, shows how Herndon, set on making his career on his late partner’s biography ferreted the story out from old timers and Ann’s own family. Herndon sometimes thought his older partner’s glumness was due to constipation, but turned to the Rutledge story for an explanation. It was quite controversial as Mrs. Lincoln, no friend of Herndon’s, was still alive. Professor Donald is very skeptical of the whole story, which he describes as a “floating rumor” that grew into a “fixed romance.”

“Bad as all slaveholders are, we seldom meet one destitute of every element of character commanding respect. My master was one of this rare sort. I do not know of one single noble act ever performed by him. The leading trait in his character was meanness; and if there were any other element in his nature, it was made subject to this. He was mean; and, like most other mean men, he lacked the ability to conceal his meanness. Captain Auld was not born a slaveholder. He had been a poor man, master only of a Bay craft. He came into possession of all his slaves by marriage; and of all men, adopted slaveholders are the worst. He was cruel, but cowardly. He commanded without firmness. In the enforcement of his rules, he was at times rigid, and at times lax. At times, he spoke to his slaves with the firmness of Napoleon and the fury of a demon; at other times, he might well be mistaken for an inquirer who had lost his way.”

. . .

“I was glad to learn, in your story, how early the most neglected of God’s children waken to a sense of their rights, and of the injustice done them. Experience is a keen teacher and long before you had mastered you’re ABC, or knew where the “white sails” of the Chesapeake were bound, you began, I see, to gauge the wretchedness of the slave, not by his hunger and want, not by his lashes and toil, but by the cruel and blighting death which gathers over his soul.”

. . .

“My term of actual service to Mr. Edward Covey ended on Christmas day, 1833. The days between Christmas and New Year’s day are allowed as holidays; and, accordingly, we were not required to perform any labor, more than to feed and take care of the stock. This time we regarded as our own, by the grace of our masters and we therefore used or abused it nearly as we pleased. Those of us who had families at a distance, were generally allowed to spend the whole six days in their society. This time, however, was spent in various ways. The staid, sober, thinking and industrious ones of our number would employ themselves in making corn-brooms, mats, horse-collars, and baskets; and another class of us would spend the time in hunting opossums, hares, and coons. But by far the larger part engaged in such sports and merriments as playing ball, wrestling, running foot-races, fiddling, dancing, and drinking whisky; and this latter mode of spending the time was by far the most agreeable to the feeling of our masters. A slave who would work during the holidays was considered by our masters as scarcely deserving them. He was regarded as one who rejected the favor of his master. It was deemed a disgrace not to get drunk at Christmas; and he was regarded as lazy indeed, who had not provided himself with the necessary means, during the year, to get whisky enough to last him through Christmas.”

These are all from The Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass, which details his life in slavery through his escape. Almost every paragraph of the book is interesting, but much of it painful to read. His real last name was not Douglass, but Bailey. When he was safe in the north, he let a host, Mr. Johnson, chose his name (Johnson was much too common). Mr. Johnson was reading The Lady of the Lake, a poem by Sir Walter Scott, and he chose the name of a father and daughter in it, James and Ellen Douglas, Douglas being a well known Scottish clan. I have no idea why Frederick's last name had two s’s at the end. I guess someone didn’t spell so well. Douglass escaped long before the Civil War and the 13th Amendment. It is ironic that he became free not by escaping or when all others did, but when he was purchased from his owner by European friends.

November 13, 1861

“I wish here to record what I consider a portent of evil to come. The President, Governor Seward, and I, went over to McClellan’s house tonight. The servant at the door said the General was at the wedding of Col. Wheaton at General Buell’s and would soon return. We went in, and after we had waited about an hour, McC. Came in and without paying any particular attention to the porter, who told him the President was waiting to see him, went up stairs, passing the door of the room where the President and Secretary of State were seated. They waited about half-an-hour, and sent once more a servant to tell the General they were there, and the answer coolly came that the General had gone to be.

I merely record this unparalleled insolence of epaulettes without comment. It is the first indication I have yet seen of the threatened supremacy of the military authorities.

Coming home I spoke to the President about the matter but he seemed not to have noticed it, specially, saying it was better at this time not to be making points of etiquette & personal dignity.”

The legendary snub of President Lincoln by General McClellan, who must rank as one of the most arrogant and incompetent generals in our history. We must, excepting those who still wish the Confederacy a different result, be glad for the day the President had it and busted him (although he briefly let him back) and that he was able to defeat him in the 1864 election.

John Hay was a fascinating fellow and I read a volume of his diaries and letters edited by Tyler Dennett under the title Lincoln and The Civil War long ago. The fact that his father had an office next door to Lincoln’s in Springfield, Illinois and that he himself was a school buddy of Lincoln’s private secretary, John Nicolay, made his career. Serving as a secretary of Lincoln’s might have been the highlight of any man’s career, but he was in government except for a few years ever after and was McKinley’s and TR’s Secretary of State.

October 19, 1863

“The President told me this morning that Rosecrans was to be removed from command of the Army at Chattanooga. Thomas is to take his original army and Grant to command the whole force, including Hooker’s and Burnside’s reinforcements. He says Rosencrans has seemed to lose spirit and nerve since the battle of Chickamauga. I told him that I believed Thomas would fail in attack, like Meade and others. The vis inertiae which prevents those fellows from running when attacked will prevent them from moving in the initiative.”

What a propitious moment – Grant to command the whole Military Division of the Mississippi! Some thought General George Thomas was slow to move, others that he was a, if not the, main reason for Grant’s success, though they were not on great terms. But, Hay was certainly wrong about Thomas that day as Chattanooga was probably his greatest moment. Thomas’ lack of interest in self-promotion or military promotion, for that matter, makes him even more sanguine than his boss and may be why most people have never heard of him (although this blog’s incendiary commenter, Bear, is a big fan).

April 28, 1864

“The Pres tells a queer story of Meigs. When McClellan lay at Harrison’s landing, Meigs came one night to the President & waked him up at Soldiers’ Home to urge upon him the immediate flight of the Army from that point – the men to get away on transports & the horses to be killed as they
c[ould] not be saved. ‘Thus often,’ says the President, ‘I who am not a specially brave man have had to sustain the sinking courage of these professional fighters in critical times.’”

And well presidents might always have to, I think, as it is the general, not they, who is sacked and ridiculed when things don’t go well and bears the images of his dead troops ever after.

Here’s one about family love and respecting your elders:

“The picture you have drawn of that slovenly German Gelehrte whose highest delight is to lecture boys about a rhetoric of which he never could practice either the style or the action or the voice or the art, and then gloating over his own foolish production in private, instead of rolling on the ground with mortification as his grandchildren would do – this picture grinds the colery into my esophagus, but it is not so hideous as the picture of his voting for the Embargo under the preposterous and the dishonest pretene that it was a measure of resistance, although he knew Jefferson was a temporizer by nature. Even that is not so bad as his voting for the Embargo under the preposterous and dishonest pretence that it was a measure of resistance, although he knew Jefferson better than anyone else did, and (like Hamilton) knew that Jefferson was a temporizer by nature. Even that is not so bad as his going to caucus to nominate a candidate for the opposition party, an act which scandalized even his admiring mother to hot and just remonstrance. And even this is not so bad as his jumping at the Russian mission and deserting his self-evident duty in Massachusetts at the time of the utmost difficulty and under the hottest kind of fire, avowedly because he wanted to escape attack – my teeth chatter at this exhibition. Yet worse follows! To see him dawdle on in Russia under one pretense or another when his mother and father pray him to come home, and he had ceased to be useful where he is, but during all these years, while the young Americans like Clay are forcing the country to assert some shadow of self respect, I do not see J. Q. A. open his mouth, and his one allusion to the war is to call it a rash act. Finally, I see him find his chief delight in quarreling with foes and friends alike, but still clinging to Europe, until Monroe makes him his tool to break down treacherously the Virginia dynasty which gave Monroe all the credit the idiot ever had.”

That’s from ground breaking historian Henry Adams’ critique of his brother Brooks’ biography of their grandfather, former President John Q. Adams. Henry spent 80 pages tearing it apart. You can tell there is some warmth lacking in this relationship. Gelehrte in the first sentence means academic, pundit, savant or scholar. JQA taught rhetoric at Harvard and Henry doesn't seem to have much appreciation for him there either. I think the grinding "colery" in his esophagus is celery, but that neither makes much sense or is certain.

Last, this is from the diary of Zenas Leonard, who spend over 5 years as a mountain man including in the service of Joseph Walker, in my opinion the greatest of mountain men for reasons stated in my post of February 28, 2008, King of the West. This memoir, Narrative of the Adventures of Zenas Leonard, is filled with his participation in Indian fights, a bison hunt, getting chased by a grizzly, a bear and bull fight, river crossings and all the other things you usually only read about in adventure novels. He lived it.

“Capt. Walker then gave orders to some of the men to take the bows of the fallen Indians and put the wounded out of misery. The severity with which we dealt with these Indians may be revolting to the heart of the philanthropist; but the circumstances of the case altogether atones for the cruelty. It must be borne in mind, that we were far removed from the hope of any succour in case we were surrounded, and that the country we were in was swarming with hostile savages, sufficiently numerous to devour us. Our object was to strike a decisive blow. This we did – even to a greater extent than we had intended.”

Leonard returned home five and a half years later to shocked parents who had believed their son long dead on his adventure. After a visit he returned west, but only as far as Missouri where he became a trader servicing those still trapping and adventuring. The era of the mountain men was nearly over, but the trails they blazed were the paths of later pioneers who crossed the west with their wagons and boots on the way to Oregon and California. When the so called “Great Pathfinder,” John Fremont, made his first trip out west, Leonard had been back from his trip with Cap’n Walker for seven years.

King of the West

Every once in a while I feel the urge to write about one of my favorite topics, the mountain men, that short lived phenomena of tough fur trappers and explorers who wandered the West, exploring the country for Americans after Lewis & Clark blazed the first long narrow trail across it. A few started out in a trickle in L&C's wake, but their glory years were the 1820-40s, after which large numbers of prospectors, business men and families began to fulfill the idea of manifest destiny.

I came to the subject backwards, first reading in law school (in lieu of concentrating on what I was supposed to be reading) a biography of John Fremont, who made three long expeditions throughout the wilds of the West, and popularized his trips and himself in his books, along with making a heroic figure out of Kit Carson (a decent soul and decent mountain man, but, despite his fame, not one of the greats in my humble opinion). Fremont's father-in-law, Thomas Benton, a U.S. Senator from Tennessee, was Mister Manifest Destiny himself.

Like many biographers, the author loved his subject, and played some of which I have otherwise learned about Fremont, including, his running away from a battle in California, his court martial when he returned East, and his bizarre generalship during the Civil War. But the most important thing I got out of the book was the obvious fact that there were any number of men who were out West long before Fremont, men who were Fremont's guides, including the subject of this little piece, Joseph Rutherford Walker, or just Joe Walker, or Cap'n Joe Walker, in my mind, the King of the Mountain Men, although he is pretty much completely forgotten today except for a river, lake and mountain pass in the Sierra Nevada. In fact, if you looked him up on the web, you would more often see his middle name as Reddeford, a misspelling (although the error long preceded the digital age).

Why the King? Not because of any one shoot out, or glorious event, although there were more than enough battles and exciting moments. But because of his longevity (most of the famous mountain men died or left the West quite young), the belief by many that he was the most knowledgeable of the explorers and guides, particularly in the huge area known as the great basin, and the fact that although he led hundreds of men and later women, probably far more, and lost but one or two, whereas others lost most or significant amounts of their charges, particularly in the earlier days. Few doubted at the time, that the safest place to be in the wilds was with Joe Walker.

The usual rules apply when dealing with mountain men. It is hard to know what to believe and always there are holes you could drive a wagon train through in their histories, as unless they were with someone who recorded their adventures, it was lost or, the opposite, greatly exaggerated. The former is especially true of Walker (who fortunately played a role in a few memoirs or books) as he was known for his reticence, his particular reluctance to talk to reporters, and his refusal to participate in the dime novel rage which would have made him immortal. Almost nothing we know comes from him directly. Actually, he did start writing a biography, but lost it fording a river. After that he determined not to rely on his memory and possibly give false impressions about his life. He felt there was too much of that.

Walker's family was one of the great Scotch-Irish frontier families constantly pushing the borders West. At one point they settled in Southern Virginia not far North from where I live, near present day Lexington, Virginia. When Walker was still a relatively young teenager (he was born in December, 1798, when Washington was still alive and Lincoln would not be born for over ten years), he went with his older brother, Joel, also quite a frontiersman, but one who settled down early, to fight with General Andrew Jackson in one of the most famous and bloodiest battles with Indians in the Eastern U.S., leading to the destruction of the Creek Indian Nation as a power (1814). Ironically, the Creek Nation was also the name for Walkers' settlement in Virginia. For the sake of history, I have to add that there is no definitive evidence Joe Walker was with Jackson, although there is for his older brother, but it appears more than likely he was present along with many others of the Walker clan.

Around 1818, some of the family along with family and friends went further West to what at the time was the furthest Anglo-American outpost from the East, Missouri.

In the early 20s Joe and his brother, Joel, began traveling along and helped shape what would become the Santa Fe trail to New Mexico. Without definitive evidence (there just aren't records) but based on the solid information known, he was one of among a small group of men involved in laying out the historic trail. He would not have been the leader yet though. The issue is very shadowy due to the loss of records, although his close family certainly believed he was in New Mexico as early as 1820.

One story from this era prefigures Walker's future. Traveling on the trail in 1823, Joel Walker was stranded when Indians stole his horses. They also had men missing along the way. A figure came riding out of the distance. At first, Joel thought it was another Indian, but there appeared his long haired and Indian garbed brother, Joe, to the rescue. Returning from New Mexico he had followed signs indicating their were Americans in trouble. It would be far from the last time.

After years of trading along the trail, the family then helped in founding Independence, Missouri, then the furthest point West. The 6' 4" Joe Walker became the town sheriff in 1827. Records only show him in three altercations, none involving a gun. Besides, there were no rapid firing pistols yet. It is likely that Walker's size, considered quite large even now and certainly larger then, would have intimidated most likely agressors anyway.

However, he was soon back to being a trader and guide for those venturing out West. By then the fur trade was in full swing, beaver hunters traversing throughout the country.

In the 30s, Walker met the mysterious explorer (military spy?) Lieutenant Benjamin Bonneville, who would later be lionized by the great writer, Washington Irving, in a number of books. Somehow, Walker became the fall guy in the relationship according to Irving, to help explain away Bonneville's failed missions. Supposedly at the end of the relationship, again according to Irving, Bonneville chewed out Walker and sent him slinking back to Missouri. However, all the other evidence including a number of written evidence and memoirs indicates nothing of the sort happened. In fact, although Walker often disagreed with Bonneville's plans and split off from him, they parted friends, and even saw each other again the next year. There is no indication at all from Bonneville himself that he was anything but greatful for Walker's help. Unfortunately, for Walker, Irving's works remained well known. Still, it does not appear that historians take it seriously.

It was in the 30s that Walker began to be known as Captain Walker. It was nothing official or military. It was just that he was the boss. Zenas Leonard was among Walker's men for a while during this time period. He left what is in my mind the best mountain man memoir, full of honesty about his own fears and problems, Narrative of the Adventures of Zenas Leonard. He describes Walker this way:

He was "well calculated to undertake a business of this kind. He was well hardened to the hardships of the wilderness -- understood the character of the Indians very well -- was kind and affable to his men, but at the same time at liberty to command without giving offense -- and to explore unknown regions was his chief delight."

Through Leonard, we get a great deal of our information about Walker's great explorations. George Nidever, another one of Walker's men and a reknowned rifleman, similarly wrote of Walker: " He was one of the best leaders I have ever met, a good hunter and trapper, thouroughly versed in Indian signs and possessed of good knowledge of the mountains. He could find water quicker than any man I ever met".

While split off from Bonneville in 1933 (according to Irving, against orders) Walker explored the Great Basin surrounding the Great Salt Lake and through Bonneville, who made a map based on Walker's description, was able to rule out the existence of a river leading from The Great Salt Lake to the Pacific, which had long been sought.

However, Walker was determined to find an easier way through the mountains to the California, finally succeeding after a terrible month through the pass that later bore his name. Despite extreme hardship Walker managed to do so while losing none of his men. In the famous trip made by mountain man Jedediah Smith in the 1820s, he lost 26 of his 32 men and was taken prisoner for a while.

During this exploration, Walker faced a tough battle, as he and his men were surrounded by angry Indians after some of their tribe were killed by some of Walker's men (behavior which, according to Leonard, Walker angrily suprressed once he learned of it). Walker, it seemed, would always rather talk peace than fight. The men formed a quick barricade and Walker put his riflemen up front and had them demonstrate the power of their rifles. The Indians appeared to be more afraid of the noise than the effect on the ducks that were shot. When this did not deter the tribe, the men killed dozens of them, finishing them up with bow and arrow.

During this trip, it appears that Walker discovered Yosemite Valley, although there is also other evidence that he may have just camped near it.

Although the men under him suffered privations for over a month, they agreed at the end that due to the wonders they had seen, it had all been worth it. And, again, he lost no men. At one point, when mutiny was approaching, he told those who wished to leave to feel free, but they could take no supplies with them. It worked. Instead, they ate their horses.

When they reached California, the men were treated to the greatest meteorite shower in recorded history (11/12/33 - paintings done of the event make it seem as if it were literally raining meteorites) which terrified all but Walker (he really seemed unflappable); and were amazed to see a beached whale and Indians growing pumpkins, melons and squash. Unlike his predecessor Smith, Walker made sure he got an introduction to the authorities and, rather than being treated with suspicion, was offered 30,000 acres of his own if he would settle there. He ruled it out due to his love of travel. He was also offered a wife by a local Indian tribe, but turned that down as well.

Walker continued gathering fame and respect during the 30s and 40s as a guide. Often he is described as celebrated or famous, although we have now long forgotten him. He was unusual in a number of respects. Unlike those few famous mountain men who were not killed by Indians or bears while still young, or who settled while young in one area, Walker continued to explore and guide for decades. Caravans heading West sought him out. Sometimes they were frustrated that he refused to move on until they were well supplied while others passed by them, yet he always got his charges where they were going safely, and sometimes had to rescue the groups that had moved ahead of them without foraging or hunting first.

Walker made friends with many tribes, although particularly the Snakes (a Shoshoni tribe). He also made friends with the terror of the Great Basin, an Indian who specialized in kidnapping and horse thievery by the name of Walkara. After they met, Walkara even took to calling himself Walker or even Joe Walker, which led to a little confusion. Supposedly Walker endeared himself to Walkara by returning his kidnapped wife and children to him. This was not unusual for Walker as he seemed often to buy or otherwise obtain kidnapped woman and children and return them to their families.

Walker himself married an Indian woman whom he often traveled with from 1937 to 1946. Other than their marriage and the fact that they had children, little is known of her, including what happened to her; just that she was gone after that. Although Walker sided with whites in a conflict, on at least one occassion he organized a posse to track down and return horses whites had stolen from Indians.

It was in the 40s that Walker gained greater fame by twice guiding Fremont. The first time, Fremont was being guided by othe" legendary figures, including Carson, Fremont's favorite,and Tom Fitzpatrick (aka "Brokenhand"). They were lost, and believed they were about to be attacked and massacred by local Indians. Walker road into camp with men and many horses (horse trading had become a profession for him). Walker told him they had nothing to fear and even introduced Fremont to his friend, Walkara, smoothing out any further problems.

Fremont, who, remember, was already accompanied by two exceptional guides later wrote of Walker: "Nothing but his great knowledge of the country, great courage and presence of mind and good rigles could have brought him safe from such a perilous enterprise."

To Walker's credit, he later said that Fremont over-dramatized: "The fact is, the danger was all in Captain Fremont's fears . . . (I) would have traveled at that time with eight mountain men, well armed, anywhere over the length and breadth of the plains."

Walker, for reasons you will see below, thought little of Fremont, once saying that "morally and physically, (Fremont) was the most complete coward I ever knew". Probably not fair, as Fremont, an egomaniac, did show courage as was attested to by others (and during the Civil War made an effort to free slaves within his control which order Lincoln overruled). However, Walker had watched him run away from a fight and it stuck with him.

Walker took over as lead guide for the expedition (he had been offered the lead by Fremont on his first expedition but had turned it down), with which even Fitzpatrick could have no quarrel. It is hard to conceive of any other Western man who would have been thought Fitzpatrick's superior, and only a handful, his equal. There was no question though concerning Walker.

It would not be only time either than other famous mountain men guides had to take a backseat to Walker, although not always with the grace Fitzpatrick showed. On Fremont's third expedition, they met Walker in Utah. Carson, Lucien Maxwell of the famous Maxwell clan, and the another legendary figure, Ole' Bill Williams, one of the greatest and most colorful of mountain men, who had been in the mountains even before Walker, were all along. Williams was many things: certainly one of the great guides and trappers, but also a hard drinker, gambler, horse thief and even murderer. Nevertheless, the captain was given the lead role. When Williams protested too mightily, the captain faced him down and Williams stalked out of camp that night, taking a couple of Walker's horses for good measure. Although Williams had last many decades in the wild he had betrayed the Utes, his Indian family, and was killed by them not too long later.

It was on that trip that Walker, with Fremont, came into conflict with the Mexican government (we took California and much of the Southwest that very year) and barricaded themselves on top of Hawkes' Peak, ready to battle. It was from this that Fremont fled. Walker was furious, but the group disbanded (it was after this that Fremont was successfully court martialed, although it little hurt his reputation).

This isn't a book, so I have to leave out a lot of Walker's adventures, but one which deserves mention is the 1862 (thus during the Civil War) stand off between Walker, who was leading a group in Arizona, and Mangas Colorado, father-in-law of the more famous Cochise. Colorado and his tribe followed Walker for weeks in a battle of wills, almost like a chess game. Each time the Indian chief thought he had them penned in, they escaped. Finally, in a strange and celebrated move that is not entirely clear, Walker sent a tough guy named Jack Swilling out to arrest Colorado. He found him, approached Colorado and his men alone, put his hand on his shoulder and apparently told him that they were surrounded and he had no choice but to surrender. For whatever inexplicable reasons he had, Colorado surrendered, saying to his men -- "Tell my people I will see them when I see them". He was imprisoned, but quickly murdered by the U.S. troops to whom he was turned over.

It may have been more impressive for Walker if he had done the job himself, but remember, he was at this time 63 years old, and, although able to tramp about, was not impervious to age.

Walker soon after settled on a ranch in California where he operated a horse business with his family members who had settled there, particularly a nephew James from whom much about Walker was learned. He lived until 1876, dying at the age of 77. For famous Western guides, this was exceedingly long.

Think about it. Lewis & Clark certainly deserve front rank for their great expedition. But there travels went on for 5 years. Ole Bill Williams was killed by Indians as was the impressive Jedediah Smith while still in his twenties. The astonishing Ed Rose and the equally tough Hugh Glass were both also killed by Indians. Jim Bridger, also incredibly impressive, lived to about the same age as Walker, but had a few big black marks on his record, and settled down to one area (Bridger Fort in Utah) in the earlier 40s. Walker was active exploring and guiding well into the 1860s though he was about 5 years older than Bridger (who died in 1881). Solid Thomas Fitzpatrick, who we have seen would take a back seat to Walker, was active as a guide until the 1840s and died in the mid '50s back East. Carson, who was rarely a leader of men, but certainly was an experienced trapper and guide, never challenged Walker for leadership -- he died at age 59 (a personal note -- while in Taos I sought out his grave and asked a guard at the cemetary where he was buried where it was located. The next day, miles away, I read that the headstone had been vandalized that day and that they were looking for the culprit -- I think of this whenever I have an unexpected knock at my door).

Most importantly, the hundreds of thousands of people he led, many times greenhorns and settlers, all lived but for possibly two of them, neither of which could in any way be tied to his choices or leadership. It is not difficult to understand why. He came prepared for any fight, was fearless, but sought out the friendship of Indians, never treating them hostily unless he was attacked. His friendship with Walkara provided him with great leeway. He was always prepared ahead of time for hardship, and seemed to have not only an uncanny memory of places he had been decades earlier, but an almost eery ability to locate water. Wherever he went, because of his gentle nature and leadership qualities, he seemed to impress everyone.

I would only put one Western explorer in his company, but I hope to write about him another day. My secret.

Walker's nephew set his headstone, which briefly summarized his life in geographical terms:

Born in Roan County, Tenn -- December 15, 1798
Emigrated to Mo -- 1819
To New Mexico -- 1820
Rocky Mountains - 1832
California -- 1833
Camped at Yosemite -- Nov. 13, 1833

For a man who constantly traveled around the West for nearly five decades, any epigraph can only be an understatement. It does help place him in New Mexico at the very beginning though, and adds at least the family opinion that he had seen Yosemite first.

The King of the Mountain Men is an opinion, but it is my opinion. We should at least celebrate Walker as much as we do Daniel Boone, Kit Carson and Davey Crockett. But, this is what happens when you won't talk to the press.

The indefatigable Hugh Glass

It seems like no matter how much we hear about bravery we can never get enough. With so many people in the world, we frequently read or hear about people doing things so brave that it surprises and inspires us, and perhaps we imagine we would do the same thing in a similar circumstance.

Not likely. If that were so, courageous acts would be so familiar they wouldn’t impress us much. How many of us would have jumped onto the subway tracks last year and covered the fallen man who was having a fit? Or would have stood in front of the tank at Tianamen Square during’s China’s aborted student revolution?

When I have a problem, requiring about one billionth as much courage as stepping in front of a tank, I do think about people who have been more courageous than seems possible. I have some favorites, but some are fictional, and although invented stories seem to inspire in the same way, it shouldn’t really count as much.

Recently I wrote about Ed Rose, an early “mountain man” of enormous courage. Another mountain man, out of the many who seemed more than ordinarily courageous, stands out in a small select group. Hugh Glass made other brave men seem almost weak in comparison. Not a lot is known about him, and much of what is “known” is likely legendary, as is typical in this arena, but that alone doesn’t diminish his stature. Certainly enough of it is true. However, I caution that for almost every “fact” I give here, I have read another version somewhere else.

Glass was probably born in 1783, at the end of the Revolution War, although no one knows where. At some point, possibly 1816, and already long a seaman, he was waylaid by pirates and ended up fighting along side Jean Lafitte for a couple of years. At some point, possibly 1818, he escaped by swimming the few miles from Galveston Island, Lafitte’s fortress, to modern day Texas. Although he made it, he had put himself directly into the firing pan, as the country at that site was the home of an interesting Indian tribe, the Karankawa, known for cannibalism.

Somehow, he made it through that gauntlet, but then got captured by Pawnee Indians, with whom he lived for several years, eventually becoming a member of the tribe. Possibly, it was there that he learned how to survive in the wild. He learned to live off the land, fought alongside his tribe, and captured his prized Hawken rifle from a brave he killed from another tribe. He also reputedly killed a grizzly bear, no small feat even nowadays with modern weapons, and was celebrated for it.

After attending a conference on behalf of the Pawnees in St. Louis, he remained in civilization and enlisted to become a fur trapper. Glass was there for the famous Ashley-Henry campaign up the Missouri River in 1823, which I have written about in some detail a few weeks ago describing Ed Rose’s involvement.

Thus, Glass was present at the battle with the Arikara (also known as the “Arikaree,” ”Rickarees” or “Rees”) Indian tribe, and, although that was more Rose’s time to shine, particularly as a negotiator, at least some think that Glass and Rose together held off the Rees’ fire while the rest of the men escaped before swimming to safety themselves. It has also been reported that Glass was shot in the leg during the attack, and singled out by Arikaras who knew him as a Pawnee, but as he continued on the trek West, serious injury seems unlikely.

After the Arikara had fled before a joint trapper/U.S. Army/Sioux Indian force, the trappers headed into the wilderness. Glass, probably well over 40, and deemed an old man already, went off with a future hall of fame of trappers including a number who become legends themselves, including Rose, Jedediah Smith, William Sublette, David Jackson, Jim Bridger, and Tom “Broken Hand” Fitzpatrick, under the leadership of Andrew Henry, one of the partners in the enterprise, the Rocky Mountain Fur Company.

During this trip, Glass had, as usual, separated himself from the rest of the crew, possibly to hunt. He was attacked and mauled by a Grizzly Bear. There are so many versions of this story, that it is very difficult to say what happened. Some versions have Glass killing the bear with his knife, others have him being rescued by the guns of his companions. Most, but not all, have the dead bear falling on top of him. The version of young James Clyman, who later wrote in abysmal English about his own adventures, including discovering (among Europeans) what would become known as Yellowstone Park, has him being rescued. Although he did not see the attack himself, he heard it immediately after from men who were there:

"Here a small company of I think (13) men ware furnished a few horses only enough to pack their baggage they going back to the mouth of the yellow Stone on their way up they ware actacted in the night by a small party of Rees killing two of thier men and they killing one Ree amongst this party was a Mr Hugh Glass who could not be rstrand and kept under Subordination he went off of the line of march one afternoon and met with a large grissly Bear which he shot at and wounded the bear as is usual attacted Glass he attemptd to climb a tree but the bear caught him and hauled to the ground tearing and lacerating his body in feareful rate by this time several men ware in close gun shot but could not shoot for fear of hitting Glass at length the beare appeaed to be satisfied and turned to leave when 2 or 3 men fired the bear turned immediately on glass and give him a second mutilation on turning again several more men shot him when for the third time he pouncd on Glass and fell dead over his body this I have from information not being present here I leave Glass for the presen . . . “.

Clyman never went back to talking about Glass although he clearly intended to do so. What happened after that is greatly disputed, and much of it had to come from Glass himself. The version here is composite, from many sources, and I have standardized it while leaving room for some alternatives.

Glass wasn’t dead, but he was probably in a coma. According to one account, he was carried on a litter for two days. Others say he was too torn up even for that. At some point though, it became necessary to move on quickly or lose more trappers to Indian attack, and two men, possibly volunteers, were chosen to stay with Glass and bury him when he died. One was Jim Bridger, a teenager who would outlive pretty much all the other famous mountain men, and John Fitzgerald. Although there roles have been repeated as fact over and over, even that is not a certainty.

Waiting several days for Glass to die, they either grew tired of waiting or were spooked by the thought of more angry Indians. They took his Hawken rifle and gear and left him next to the grave they had dug. They knew he was not dead, or they would have buried him.

Not only was Glass alive, but he would shortly accomplish what extremely few men could do while in good shape. Coming to, he found himself alone and without anything to defend himself, hunt or cook.

The first thing he had to do was set his broken leg. He was completely in the wilderness, and a few hundred miles from Fort Kiowa, the closest place for help. Distances from 100-300 miles have been suggested but 200 is likely closest to the truth. He set out by crawling on all fours, eating insects and berries to survive, traveling at night, and trying to avoid Indians and wild animals. He may have been able to fashion a crutch with which he could walk.

Two legends in particular seem to have grown out of the trek. The first, that Glass had to do something to cure the severe flesh wounds in his back. As always, versions differ. One has him rubbing his back on a log filled with maggots so that they would eat the dead flesh. Another has him passing out and waking to find another bear licking his wounds, and cleaning out the dead tissue. Both seem unlikely, sounding more like “tall tales” than history.

The second legend is that he fought off two or more wolves for a freshly killed buffalo. Again, only Glass would know, but it’s certainly not impossible for someone so accustomed to living in the wild and desperate to eat something.

Eventually, he made it back to the abandoned Arikara Village where he found some food. Some Sioux Indians found him there and brought him to their village. With the Sioux’ assistance, he made it back to Fort Kiowa, from whence the whole troop had set out, and restocked and re-armed himself. It was also likely they who helped heal him.

Once improved, he set off West again on his mission to kill the two men who had abandoned him and taken his weapons and supplies. On the way he and his company was attacked again by the Arikara, and rescued by some Mandan Indians. He was escorted to Fort Tilton and re-supplied there again. But he could not stay for fear of another Arikara attack. He moved on to Fort Henry, named for the team leader, who had built it so long before then in Montana that most of the other men in his troop were little boys at the time. Glass expected to find the two men who had left him for dead.

It was now winter, and he again lived off the land until he arrived at Fort Henry, only to discover that they had moved the fort further South. On he went and eventually, after covering hundreds of a miles, arrived. He announced that he was there to kill Bridger and Fitzgerald. Of the two, only Bridger was there, and one can only imagine his shock and remorse at seeing Glass alive. Still only a teenager, he abjectly apologized, which Glass accepted.

Glass spent the New Years’ at the new fort and then headed off to return to St. Louis, undoubtedly hoping to eventually find Fitzgerald, whom, he had probably confirmed with Bridger, had been the motivating force in leaving him in the lurch, and had joined the army.

Henry sent him out with four other men to go to St. Louis and report to Ashley, his partner. On the way, the Arikara attacked the small party and killed two of them. Two others beside Glass survived and got away. Glass survived and successfully hid himself. Again, left without firearms, he made his way back across country to Ft. Kiowa, where he learned that the two other survivors had reported his death. It was the second time everyone had thought him dead.

Glass now headed to Ft. Atkinson where he was told Fitzgerald was stationed. Traveling there, he again announced his attention. There is no report of Fitzgerald apologizing, or, if he did, of Glass accepting. However, Glass was told that if he killed a soldier, he would himself be hung. He got back his rifle from Fitzgerald, but no other satisfaction.

So, what is true and what not true? Impossible to say, but it appears as certain as one can expect that Glass was at the Arikara battle, was soon attacked and mauled by a grizzly while a distance from his group, and was left for dead in the wilderness, being forced, while near dead, to travel an inconceivable distance without any gun or knife or way to protect himself.

For about ten more years, Glass continued to trap and wander the West. These were the glory years of the trapping business, but Glass was no entrepreneur, as were some of his companions. In 1935 (putting him at about 53 years of age) out on a tramp with Rose and another, he was reportedly finally killed by the Arikara as was Rose. At least that was believed when some captured Arikara were found with his gun. The bodies were never recovered.

At his death, Glass was already a legend, more so in the Indian nations than among the Americans, having survived innumerable attacks from the Arikaras. As with many of the men brought to your attention in this blog, it is hard to understand why he is not as famous to us today, as is, say, a Kit Carson, or even Jim Bridger, neither of whose lives can really compare in terms of sheer adventure to Glass. One reason may be his spending so much time in the wild and not spending time with those would write or, as often happened, grossly exaggerate his feats.

Still, he has done better than Ed Rose, of whom almost nothing is ever written outside of the obscure history book. Several men have written Glass’s history. The great Indian popularizer John Neidhardt (Black Elk Speaks) wrote the The Ballad of Hugh Glass. I recommend John Myers Myers’ (duplication not a typo) The Saga of Hugh Glass. I have not read the more recent Bruce Bradley version, which, according to an Amazon.com review, has been admittedly embellished by the author. There has even been a movie, an episode on a television show (Death Valley Days narrated by Ronald Reagan) and a novel about him as well.

There is also a small park and plaque dedicated to him near Lemmon, South Dakota, near where he was attacked by the grizzly. It is quite picturesque.

Still, all told, it is not much and your neighbors will not have likely have heard of this amazing man or know what he accomplished and survived.

If Hugh Glass could look down from heaven or the happy hunting grounds, I doubt he would care who has heard of him. And even if you came to visit him, he’d probably go off and camp somewhere else.

A mountain man is an amazing man

A casual perusal at the history of the early 19th century might lead one to conclude that “The Pathfinder” John Charles Fremont, first explored the West and led to its settlement by his travels in the 1840s.

Yet in reading about Fremont it is realized quickly that despite his important trips and his books which help lead to the population of the West by Americans, he was merely a Johnny come lately. Many earlier pathfinders, not as famous as Fremont, had been treading paths, boating, exploring, setting traps, catching beaver, fighting, mixing with Indians and drinking what they could find, pretty much ever since Lewis and Clark came home in 1806.

Much of this invasion of the West by the mountain men or fur trappers took place in the 20s, but they so thoroughly depopulated the county of furs that they worked their own demise. Those of them who did not die in a fight with the Indians or a grizzly bear anyway.

One of these men was Edward Rose, who enjoys no reputation in the 21st century, unlike, say, Kit Carson, who was made famous by Fremont and dime novels, but came much later, and really wasn’t nearly as impressive. Rose’s name seems to keep popping up, no matter which mountain man you are researching, but somehow gained little fame outside the small circle of mountain men researchers. He was seemingly everywhere in the West, and almost impossibly durable and brave, beyond most of our reckoning of what brave means.

Rose, a black man or at least partially so, did not have a biographer publish his story in book form until 1967, during the heyday of the civil rights movement. The title alone almost makes it collectable. It is actually entitled “Edward Rose, Negro Trail Blazer”.  I am not sure how old the author, Harold Felton, was at the time it was published, but “negro” was long out and “black” well in by 1967. Since the biography is favorable, it’s hard to believe he meant it derogatorily. But information from Rose can be found in many other sources, mostly from mountain men who recorded their own stories, and old newspaper or magazine articles.

Rose in fact was in the mountains and plains of the West so early, that he served as a guide and taught many of the more famous mountain men who started their careers in the 1820s. For Rose, sometimes rumored to have been an escaped slave, went up the Missouri River in 1807, right after the Lewis and Clark expedition, and was one of only a few men who were not Indians in the West.

In that first year, he went with another early legend whom also deserves more recognition, Manuel Lisa, an early entrepreneur, in what was the first organized fur expedition. Keep in mind how early this was in our history - Thomas Jefferson was still president.

After a dangerous trip which they survived partially by frightening angry Indians with two small cannons they brought with them, they built Fort Lisa, or sometimes, Fort Manuel, on the Yellowstone and Bighorn rivers. It was there that Rose made a connection that would stay with him for all of his days. He began spending a great amount of time with the local Indian tribe, the Crows, an English corruption of the French Corruption of the tribe’s name for itself, Absaroka, meaning “sparrow hawk.”

Lisa and Rose had a falling out over Rose giving too many presents to the Indians and it led to a physical fight broken up by Potts, a Lewis and Clark expedition alumni. When Lisa got in a boat to leave, Rose ran to one of the cannons and fired a hail of bullets at the boat. Apparently, a tall man was walking past the canon at the time and the bullets passed between his legs causing him to leap in the air and inaccurately announce his own death. The story was not retold to an author until nearly two decades later, and sounds fishy, particularly as when Lisa saw Rose a few years later, he was overjoyed.

Two years later, after serving in another expedition that returned to his tribe a Mandan Indian chief, Big White, who had accompanied Lewis and Clark to Washington, Rose not only became a member of the Crow tribe, he became a chief, and was able to easily walk across the line between white men and Indians. It seems though, that despite his many years with the Crows, his loyalty, sometimes suspected, was with the whites. Undoubtedly, part of his usefulness to the white men was his facility with Indian languages. But that, along with his color, was probably enough to make some of them doubt him.

During his Crow years he obtained a number of names, including Cut Nose, for a scar, but also had a more virile one. This latter name came during after a fight with the Minnataree tribe, when a war party killed a Crow warrior. The Crow’s wife made it back to the camp with an arrow protruding from her robe, and Crow warriors went for revenge, oddly led by a black man named Ed Rose.

After a several hour chase, the Crows caught up with their prey. The Minnatarees were headed for a natural fort of trees and rocks when Rose caught up with one of the warriors. Grabbing his enemy’s horse’s mane, he threw them both to the ground and killed the warrior. When he could not get the warriors with him to storm the “fort,” he grabbed two shields, and with a knife and battle axe attacked himself. He slaughtered the stunned Minnatarees.

Of course, Rose himself may be the source of this story, and its authenticity may be doubted. However, many years later, when Lieutenant Reuben Holmes, who first wrote down this tale, visited a Crow village with Rose, he saw him celebrated and addressed by his other Indian name -- Chee Ho Carte -- Five Scalps.

In 1811 a greenhorn named William Price Hunt led an expedition on behalf of the wealthy John Jacob Astor who hoped to be the second group to cross the continent and rendezvous in California (which was reachable by water) in the aptly named Astoria. Hunt had met up with the impressive Manuel Lisa, but was filled with fears and not happy with his three guides, none of whom had actually been into the Rockies. In fact, they were planning to desert.


At that point Rose appeared with some Crow. For whatever reason, Hunt was also fearful of Rose and upon being told that Rose was going to give them over to the tribe, offered him a large salary, some beaver traps and a horse. This makes little sense, If Rose was planning treachery, he would be much better off going through it and getting all of Hunt’s horses, equipment and guns. Besides, all of Rose’s actions throughout his life show that he preferred living with the Indians, but when push came to shove, sided with the white man. It is not farfetched to suggest that this was for sexual reasons. The sole black man, a slave, who had traveled with Lewis and Clark was greatly sought after by Indian woman who were mesmerized by his skin color.

During the march across the country, Rose again showed his courage and experience. Coming upon moccasin prints, Rose was able to identify them as of Crow make, indicating that they were nearby. Shortly thereafter two Indians on horseback appeared in the distance. While everyone else hung back, Rose mounted a horse to greet them in spite of the possibility of ambush. He turned out all right though, and returned to the group with the Crow. Soon they came upon a large group of Crows who swarmed out on horseback in a rush to welcome back Rose. Trade between the two groups was greatly beneficial to the Astorians.

Leaving Rose with the Crow, Hunt and company struggled onward but soon got lost and were almost sure to starve without a way to get over the mountains. Once again Rose appeared with some Crow and led them through the mountains.

At that point Rose dropped out of the white man’s records for a dozen years, which he spent mostly with the Crow, and some with a tribe known as the Arikaras. In 1823 he walked into the camp of William Ashley who was the partner with Andrew Henry, the first man to hire Rose.

Visiting an Arikara village, Ashley was appreciative of their friendliness. Rose warned him that there was trouble brewing, but Ashley wouldn’t listen. Rose advised him to spend the night on the other side of the river and his advice was again rejected. The men slept on a sand bar with the horses.

The next morning the Arikara attacked. They called for Rose to come to their side but he refused. Men were leaping into the water to try to swim to safety as the boatmen refused to come close enough to pick them up. Finally, two boats made it to shore. Rose and many others refused to leave, preferring to fight it out. Many were killed, as were the horses.

Two men were left to cover the retreat for the others.  One was Rose and the other a fascinating former pirate named Hugh Glass, as tough as Rose. Finally Glass swam for the boats while Rose covered him. Only when everyone was clear did Rose swim for safety with rifle in hand, Indiana Jones’ style, with arrows and spears landing all around him.

Shortly thereafter, bolstered by other soldiers (who made Rose a nominal ensign) and trappers and some 500 Indians hostile to the Arikaras, the Ashley party returned and fought back. This time the Indians called for a parley. Only one man, rifle in hand and knife in his belt, went into the fort. Rose. He came back sometime later and said the Arikaras had completely surrendered. Actually, Rose warned Ashley and his men that they were planning an escape, and was right again.

Ashley wrote that he had heard bad things about Rose, but could find no fault with him. What was it that made men like Hunt and Rose fear or mistrust him? Perhaps his color, or his scarred face, his reportedly humorless demeanor, perhaps his facility with Indians and their languages. Difficult to say.

Rose then left with a group of men to trap and explore. This group included some of the most famous mountain men who ever lived, including Jedediah Smith, Hugh Glass, David Jackson (Jackson’s Hole), Tom Fitzpatrick, Jim Bridger, James Clyman (whose memoirs aid us in the story) and William Sublette. Nevertheless, they soon found themselves in trouble. They turned to Rose for help, and he set off alone to find the Crow and get it.

When everything looked black, Rose reappeared with aid. He saved the men and the merchandise. How many times can one man come to the rescue?

Two years later, 1825, Rose was hired on to guide soldiers to some Indian tribes in order that treaties be signed. Rose was successful in getting a number of tribes to cooperate. During this tour, Rose put on a show of his wilderness prowess when they came upon buffalo. Disguising himself as a bush, Rose crept forward and fired 5 times, taking down a buffalo each time. Finally they ran for it, but as they did, Rose brought down another on the run.

When it came time for the Crow to appear at the council, an altercation arose when they refused to let two Iroquois prisoners go free. As tempers heated, an Indian chief was struck by a soldier with a gun. The Crow rose as one and a massacre seemed likely, the Crows having the foresight to spike the soldiers’ cannon. Rose stepped forward against his own adopted people, grabbed a musket, stepped on the pile of the rest of them and swung the barrel around his head, hitting a number of braves. Despite the overwhelming odds, it worked. The Crow backed down, perhaps cowed by one of their own chiefs, whom they trusted.

Years later a trapper named Zenas Leonard, destined to write a classic on his travels, wrote of a black man who lived with the Crow who could only be Rose. While visiting, the Crow found themselves under attack by their enemy, the Blackfeet, who were hold up in a makeshift fort. Although the Crow attacked, they could make no headway. On the verge of giving up, Rose stood up and chastised them for cowardliness. He told them he would show them what a black man could do. He set off to attack the Blackfeet themselves. Not surprisingly, he was quickly followed and victory ensued.

A few years later, Rose was dead along with Hugh Glass, the man who had stood by his side battling the Arikaras. And it was the Arikaras who killed them, possibly by shooting a barrel of gun powder they were standing near. Everybody dies. Even heroes like Rose.

We sit in our houses with the doors locked and fear even our neighbors. Rose, and men like him braved weather, wild animals, angry Indians, starvation and the unknown all the time, outside, with no roads to walk upon or hotels to sleep in. Rose was undoubtedly one of the bravest, even recklessly so. It would be nice to think he made it to the happy hunting ground.