Little Spoiled One

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Pocahontas

Pocahontas, a nickname meaning “little spoiled one,” was born Amonute, daughter of Chief Powhatan in 1595, She was an extrovert from a young age, inquisitive and naturally good-natured. At eleven years old she played a miner role in securing John Smith’s survival. Later she was the go-between for trade among the settlers and Indians bartering at Jamestown. The fictionalized version of her love affair with Smith may, in fact, bear some truth, but in a much more disturbing way for our modern sensibilities. Today, a thirty-year-old having sex with a preteen is pedophilia and a crime. But, in that era, relations with non-Christian pagans of any age was not considered wrong. Pocahontas was known to have “long, private conversations” with Smith during her frequent visits to the Jamestown complex, yet the true dimensions of the encounters are a matter of conjecture. A few years later she was betrothed to the older Englishman John Rolfe, only after she agreed to be baptized in 1614. Two years later Rolfe took her to London, where she was received as a celebrity, billed as a real live Indian princess by high society, and held an audience with King James. In 1617 she believed the smoky air of London was the cause of her coughs and bouts of weakness and wished to return to the forests she had known. Along with Rolfe she boarded a ship to return to Virginia, but the vessel only made it to the end of the Thames River before it turned back. Pocahontas died in London at age twenty-two of a disease called the king’s evil, a form of tuberculosis characterized by swelling of the lymph glands.

To learn more about the death of legendary characters read Tales Behind the Tombstones: The Deaths and Burials of some of the West’s Most Nefarious Outlaws, Notorious Women, and Celebrated Outlaws.

 

Mochi’s War

Mochi's War Book Cover

Colorado Territory in 1864 wasn’t merely the wild west, it was a land in limbo while the Civil War raged in the east and politics swirled around its potential admission to the union. The territorial governor, John Evans, had ambitions on the national stage should statehood occur–and he was joined in those ambitions by a local pastor and erstwhile Colonel in the Colorado militia, John Chivington. The decision was made to take a hard line stance against any Native Americans who refused to settle on reservations–and in the fall of 1864, Chivington set his sights on a small band of Cheyenne under the chief Black Eagle, camped and preparing for the winter at Sand Creek.When the order to fire on the camp came on November 28, one officer refused, other soldiers in Chivington’s force, however, immediately attacked the village, disregarding the American flag, and a white flag of surrender that was run up shortly after the soldiers commenced firing.

In the ensuing “battle” fifteen members of the assembled militias were killed and more than 50 wounded Between 150 and 200 of Black Kettle’s Cheyenne were estimated killed, nearly all elderly men, women and children.

As with many incidents in American history, the victors wrote the first version of history–turning the massacre into a heroic feat by the troops. Soon thereafter, however, Congress began an investigation into Chivington’s actions and he was roundly condemned. His name still rings with infamy in Colorado and American history. Mochi’s War explores this story and its repercussions into the last part of the nineteenth Century from the perspective of a Cheyenne woman whose determination swept her into some of the most dramatic and heartbreaking moments in the conflicts that grew through the West in the aftermath of Sand Creek.

An Excerpt from Tales Behind the Tombstones

Introduction

“A cemetery is a history of people – a perpetual record of yesterday and sanctuary of peace and quiet today. A cemetery exists because every life is worth loving and remembering – always.”
William Gladstone, Prime Minister of England – 1890

In the mid 1800s, courageous pioneers ventured across the rugged plains to start a new life. The weathered tombstones and worn out crosses that dot the trails from Independence, Missouri to San Francisco, California represent the brave souls who passed away traveling across the wild frontier. Many who made the arduous journey died from disease, starvation or the inhospitable elements in an unfamiliar land. Some died violent deaths from gunfights and lawlessness often associated with the untamed West.

Emigrants were often too busy with day to day survival to spend the time and effort to create cemeteries. Family members and friends were buried where they fell. Most of the head boards of Indian scouts, wagon masters, business owners, soldiers, women, prospectors and children have since then toppled over and in some cases all that remains is a sun scorched piece of wood, teetering on the edge of a grave.

Many of the markers that still stand and are still legible don’t often tell the story of the remarkable, dedicated, outrageous and sometimes notorious people who made a lasting impression conquering the new frontier. In many cases, the manner of their deaths and odd details of their impromptu funerals are as interesting as the lives they led.

For instance, many people have seen Buffalo Bill Cody’s grave on Lookout Mountain in Golden, Colorado, but many do not know that shortly after Cody’s death the Governor of the state dispatched a World War I tank to the site to protect his remains.

Whether or not they were famous, how pioneers were treated after they passed is worthy of note. Settlers who died on the trek west were generally wrapped in material or blankets and then buried. The wooden flanks that lined the bottom of wagons were occasionally used to make crude caskets. Rocks were piled high over the grave to prevent wild animals from getting to the remains. Surviving settlers rolled wagons over the top of the graves to conceal the plots from vengeful Indians. Family members drove away from the burial site with particularly heavy hearts.

Not only had they lost a loved one, but the chance that they would ever be able to find and visit the burial site again was slim.

When western towns like Sacramento, Tucson and Denver were established graveyards and proper burials became standard. Coffins were made with rough boards and lined with white cloths. In small mining burghs, friends and family carried the coffin to the cemetery. In larger towns the casket was placed in a black, horse-drawn vehicle complete with glass sides and decorated with elaborate carvings and brass ornaments. The deceased was driven to their final resting place by a team of six horses. A member of the clergy would offer a few words about the departed and lead those gathered in prayer.

The undertaker usually made the wooden markers placed at the graves. Granite or marble tombstones had to be ordered from major cities like Kansas City, San Francisco, or Denver, and the inscriptions were scrawled across the front before they were sent back to the families. The process took three to six months to complete. From time to time the stone would be returned with the name misspelled or key information omitted. Given the cost and time spent, the stone was used regardless of the mistake.

Included in this volume are a few of the interesting tombstone inscriptions, unusual burial places, and strange circumstances surrounding some well known western heroes and frontier characters. While there are many compelling tales behind the tombstones, the head boards included in this tome were chosen as the most fascinating and least told.

Many visitors standing over the burial plots of legends like Lotta Crabtree, Doc Holliday and Lola Montez, or lesser known pioneers like Old Joe or Sheriff David Douglass, wonder where the occupant of the grave was when they met their maker, their course of death, or who witnessed their last words. Tales Behind the Tombstones answers those queries and serves as a guide through the hallowed grounds where today one can visit the markers of pioneers, bad guys, missionaries, teamsters and lawmen of the Old West.

This Day…

1876-A patrol led by Texas Ranger Sergeant John Armstrong closed in on an outlaw camp in Espinoza Lake near Carrizo, Texas.  When the smoke cleared the rangers had killed three of the four outlaws in that camp and the fourth was hit four times, in separate shootouts that night Armstrong’s detachment killed two other outlaws.

No Name on the Bullet

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AudieMurphy

The most decorated American war hero in World War II, Audie Murphy returned home with no place to go but down. What could top his spectacular battle feat? After lying about his age to join the army at 17, he had been wounded three times and credited with killing 240 Germans. Of 235 men in his company, Murphy was one of two who survived. Not yet 21, he won twenty-seven medals, including three from the French and one from Belgium.

After the war, Murphy was recruited to Hollywood by James Cagney, and in 1955 he starred in a movie version of hit autobiography, To Hell and Back. He said it was “the first time, I suppose, a man has fought an honest war, then come back and played himself doing it.” Murphy joked about his lack of talent, but in twenty years his boyish face and freckles appeared in forty movies, mostly war films and Westerns in which he played eager fighters. It was a far cry from his youth as one of eleven children of a Texas cotton sharecropper – and from the battle fields of Europe – and the transition was not smooth. Murphy said the war left him with nightmares for years. He slept with a loaded automatic pistol under his pillow, and when he was asked how people survive a war, he said, “I don’t think they ever do.”

One of Murphy’s friends, cartoonist Bill Maudlin, said, “Murphy wanted the world to stay simple so he could concentrate on tidying up its moral fiber wherever he found himself.” Murphy became a quasi law-enforcement officer in the 1960s. He was made a special officer of a small California police department and rode around with police during drug busts. In 1970, he and a bartender friend beat up a dog trainer in a dispute over treatment of the friend’s dog. Murphy was acquitted of attempted murder.

Though he had earned more than $2.5 million in his film career, Murphy was forced by too many bad business ventures to declare bankruptcy in 1968. Three years later, hounded by creditors and still trying to rebuild financial security for his wife and two teenage sons, he became interested in a company in Martinsville, Virginia, that manufactured prefabricated homes. He was on a small charter flight from Atlanta to see about making an investment when the plan crashed in a wooded mountain area during a light drizzle. The region, northwest of Roanoke, was so isolated that the wreckage, including the bodies of Murphy and five company officials, was not found for three days. The war hero was laid to rest in Arlington National Cemetery.

To learn more about the death of legendary characters read Tales Behind the Tombstones: The Deaths and Burials of some of the West’s Most Nefarious Outlaws, Notorious Women, and Celebrated Outlaws.

 

As Honest as a Looking Glass

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DBoone

Daniel Boone, America’s most famous pioneer hero, had set off into a hostile world without roads, toting only a flintlock musket and a knife; the region was so wild he reportedly killed over ten thousand bears while he surveyed and settled vast virgin wildernesses of Kentucky, West Virginia, and Missouri. In 1820, at the age of eighty-five, Boone went on his final hunting trip near his home in St. Charles, Missouri, caught pneumonia, and died. Although he spent his life in the woods and claimed a lot of property for himself and his family, he lost it all to the slick dealings of investors using issues of unclear titles and creditors liens to strip him of all but his name. His funeral was held in his son’s barn instead of the house; hundreds showed up unexpectedly to pay their respects. Many remember a TV show that portrayed Daniel Boone wearing a coonskin cap. He actually wore a felt-brim hat in the Quaker style now seen on boxes of oatmeal. The TV theme song: “Daniel Boone was a man. Yes a big man. With an eye like an eagle as tall as a mountain was he,” was also a stretch. Boone was 5 feet 8 and weighed about 175 pounds. He did have a keen and active mind and stayed physically fit, a fact that kept him alive long after what is currently considered retirement age.

To learn more about how legends such as Daniel Boone died read Tales Behind the Tombstones: The Deaths and Burials of some of the West’s Most Nefarious Outlaws, Notorious Women, and Celebrated Outlaws.

 

This Day…

On this day in 1829, Dr. Sarah R. Adamson Dolley was born in Schuylkill Meeting, Pennsylvania. Aspiring to become a doctor, she sought an apprenticeship with her physician uncle, Hiram Corson, but he initially would not accept her, believing the practice of medicine to be an unsuitable profession for women. After seeing that she was determined and relentless, he finally agreed.

No Women Need Apply

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The Doctor Wore Petticoats: Women Physicians of the Old West.

Women Medical Students - 1893

Women Medical Students – 1893

“No Women Need Apply.”  These four discouraging words of admonition often greeted female physicians looking for jobs in the frontier-era West.  Despite the dire need for medical help, it seemed most trappers, miners, and emigrants would rather suffer and die than be treated by a female doctor.  Nevertheless dozens of highly trained women headed West, where they endured hardship and prejudice as they set broken limbs, performed operations, and delivered generations of babies-and solidified a place for women in the medical field.

In the beginning, western communities where Doctor Mary Canaga Rowland practiced were reluctant to accept her skills. After hanging her shingle out in Lebanon, Oregon, she overheard people talking as they passed by her sign. “Doctor Mary Canaga Rowland, a woman doctor, well, well, well…” The first patient she saw in Oregon in 1909, was not opposed to women doctors. In fact he sought her out for just that reason: “He was a little boy of ten or eleven. He came to me about half past eleven one night and woke me up to take care of his hurt finger. He was crying and I asked him how he happened to come to me and he said, “Cause I know’d you’re a woman and you’d be careful…”

To learn more about Mary Canaga Rowland and other lady healers on the frontier read The Doctor Wore Petticoats: Women Physicians of the Old West.