The Role of Some Pioneer Women

 According to the lyrics in the Old West song entitled the Wagoneer’s Lad by Charles Neely, the life of a pioneer woman was something to be lamented.  Some of the lyrics were as follows:   “always controlled, they’re always confined.  Controlled by their family until they are wives, then slaves to their husbands the rest of their lives.”  Women played no public roles in the early life of pioneering (1846-1860) but remained in their domestic spaces.  I hate to admit it but the relative inequality of the sexes during the start of the rush west was the basis of patriarchy and masculine power beyond the Mississippi.  In all agricultural societies women were more or less excluded from the public world.  The overall status of women in agriculture was one of institutionalized dependency, subordination and political immaturity. 

     Farm women’s ills were exacerbated by the growth of the market, for under commercial pressures gender divisions were widened, men’s economic activity was further divorced from the household, and family economic unity shattered; for farm women there was, in consequence, a further devaluation of their already questionable status.  Lacking in public roles, women were dependent upon men, while men enjoyed considerable responsibility and latitude in their social relations.  The presence of children provided male privilege with a natural cover: women were viewed as inherently responsible for domestic society, while men were free to work or wander. 

     The majority of the people coming west in the mid-1840s were farmers from Missouri.  The average age of the pioneer wife was 20-22 and the average of the pioneer male was 34-44.  I know these statics might be boring for some but for those educators who visit the site hoping to find out information about the role of pioneer women it might serve as useful.  Happy teaching and if you get this far in reading this entry take a moment to watch the newest video posted on the introductory page of this site.  It’s the short tale of what one western woman did to change her circumstances.

Gould & Guilt

“No one respects the law…no one respects the courts…the courts don’t respect themselves.”  This sad verdict on justice was handed down by a journalist in the 1880s.  Things haven’t changed much since then.  It was widely believed in the Old West that men such as corrupt railroad mogul Jay Gould controlled the courts.  It was said of him that he could commit a murder without fear of arrest or conviction.  Gould’s actions were not unusual, large corporations tampered openly with the courts, paying off judges and juries alike and never feeling the slightest twinge of shame or guilt.  For men like Gould guilt was simply God’s way of letting them know they were having too good a time.  I unfortunately know too many people that think like Mr. Gould did.  People for whom in the elaborate wardrobe of human emotions, guilt is the itchy wool turtleneck that’s three sizes too small. Guilt is difficult to articulate.  For some guilt is the pledge drive constantly hammering in our heads that keeps us from fully enjoying the show.  Guilt is the reason they put the articles in Playboy.  Some experience guilt as the voice of their better natures, while for others, it’s the voice of an authority figure like a parent or a teacher.  There are some people so predisposed to guilt (and I believe I fall into that category) that when they’re born, the first thing that comes out of their mouth after being slapped by the doctor is “Harder! Harder!”  Women like Gould helped take my brother’s life.  They are murderers who walked across the street to have pizza once the job was done.  I don’t have to wonder if they will remember what they did when they pass by his gravesite at the cemetery.  They won’t.  Of course they won’t have to imagine what it will be like to be in paradise someday singing praises to the Most High.  They won’t be there to enjoy it any more than Gould is there now.  It’s hard to know how many lives Jay Gould ruin because he bought judges and juries in order to make a case go his way.  For a while he was the power behind the throne of justice.  As Collis P. Huntington (another Old West railroad boss) once said “if you pay money to have the right thing done, it is only just and fair to do it.”  If I had the kind of coin Gould possessed and I could purchase guilt, I would shower my brother’s accusers with so much guilt they’d drown in it.  For now I guess I’ll just have to look forward to the day they final understand what the word retribution mean.  As for Gould, he died of tuberculosis on December 2, 1892.  His fortune was conservatively estimated to be $72 million.  I’m sure all the money was made legitimately too.

Poison Runs Through It

A few of the stories I’ve been working on for the book entitled the Bedside Book of Bad Girls: Outlaw Women of the American Mid-west are a little rough. I spent the bulk of yesterday writing about Elizabeth Reed, the first woman to be hung in the state of Illinois. Her story is desperately sad and begins as follows: “The commotion coming from inside a dilapidated cabin in the heart of the forest near Lawrenceville, Illinois on the Embarras River in late December 1824 was loud enough to keep all manner of wildlife at bay. A clay pitcher shattered through a dirty window and the sound of two people arguing echoed over the ancient mass of pine and fir trees surrounding the crude dwelling. Elizabeth Fail, a painfully thin fifteen year old girl, flung the door of the cabin open and tried to exit. Her face was swollen and bruised and her lip was bleeding. She was halfway outside when she was jerked back into the cabin by an unshaven brute of a man with eyes inflamed by whisky. He knocked Elizabeth onto the floor and kicked her hard in the side. She struck a table filled with dishes, food and a kerosene lamp and they fell onto the floor as she struggled to crawl to a corner of the shabby one-room structure. The plates, cups and lamp broke into pieces when it hit the hard ground and the kerosene spilled out of the busted glass dome. The enraged man picked up a Barlow style knife protruding out of a hunk of cooked deer meat laying on the floor and advanced toward Elizabeth. Her eyes were wide with terror. She screamed as he carved the left side of her face with the knife. Blood gushed everywhere. In between stabbings Elizabeth punched him in the throat with all the strength she had. The out of control thug fell backwards and dropped the knife. His knees buckled and he gasped for air. Elizabeth quickly made her way to the stone fireplace and snatched up a long iron rod, the end of which had been lying in the fire and was flaming red hot. She held the piece of metal out in front of her, ready to strike the man should he get on his feet again and come after her. Elizabeth was a fountain of blood as she raced to the door. The injured man caught her leg before she exited and she hit him over the head with the poker. He let go of her and slowly sank into the floor. Elizabeth anxiously waited for him to come to but he was unconscious and motionless. She threw the poker down next to the table and the spilled kerosene. The heated end ignited the liquid and set the table on fire. Elizabeth turned and raced out of the cabin. Leaves from low hanging tree limbs smacked her arms and bleeding face as she ran away from the violent scene. A flash of light and the sound of roaring flames prompted her to stop and look back. The cabin was engulfed with fire. The man Elizabeth left behind staggered out of the door of the cabin, brutally burned. She watched in horror as he collapsed, still burning and died. Elizabeth “Betsey” Fail was born in Purgatory Swamp, Illinois in the fall of 1807. She was the youngest among seven children her parents Abraham and Sarah had and history records her life was difficult from the moment she entered the world. The Fails were poor farmers. The fertile land near the Wabash River where they lived was stubborn and could only be subdued with vigorous cultivation. Crops were often washed away by flood waters or overtaken by insects. Abraham struggled to keep his family clothed and fed. By the time Elizabeth turned nine her parents decided that anyone in the home unable to strenuously worked the fields as needed would have to go. A peddler traveling through Lawrence County in 1815 offered to take Elizabeth with him if the Fails were willing. Sarah agreed but demanded a cast-iron skillet and five pounds of lard in exchange for her daughter.” A cast-iron skillet and five pounds of lard – that’s all her life was worth to her mother. Elizabeth never got over her mother’s betrayal. Her story made me think about how much we are a product of our upbringing. I’m certainly not advocating we poison anyone as Elizabeth did because we weren’t treated kindly as a child but we do tend to view the world differently if we have parents who nurture and support us. None of the ten women I’ve written about in this book came from good homes. Family plays a big role in the way we think about situations. Based on the research I’ve done for this book, it would seem crazy can be passed down from generation to generation and cruelty can truly be a person’s legacy. There was a big hole in Elizabeth’s life left there by her mother and nothing she ever did could fill it. She died as she lived, wondering if she mattered. I feel your pain, Elizabeth.

The Many Loves of Buffalo Bill: The True Story of Life on the Wild West Show

 

Husband, Father, Scout and Actor

“My restless, roaming spirit would not allow me to remain at home very long.”

                                                         William Cody – 1904


In late February 1869, Louisa and her two-year-old daughter Arta were tucked safely inside her parent’s home in St. Louis, Missouri.  It was cold, and she stood over a fire blazing in a grate fireplace trying to get warm.  Her little girl was nearby playing on the floor with a doll.  Preoccupied with rereading a letter from William, Louisa paid little attention to the knock on the front door, nor did she look up from the letter when her mother answered it.  The sound of a familiar voice booming over Elizabeth Frederici’s cheerful welcome, prompted Louisa to set aside the correspondence.

Arta immediately recognized the burly figure that entered the room as her father’s.  She hurried to William, and he scooped her into his arms.  Louisa was less certain that the man was her husband.  There was a long moment of silence as she studied his face and rugged manner of dress.  The change in his appearance was so striking that she could only stare at him.  “Where the close cropped hair had been were long, flowing curls now,” she later wrote in her memoirs.  “A mustache weaved its way outward from his lower lip, while a small goatee showed black and spot-like on his chin.”  (1)

Louisa slowly approached William then cupped his chin in her hand.  He smiled back at her, and she hugged him around the neck, stroking his matted, unruly mane.  “What happened to your hair?” she asked, smoothing it down and pushing several strands behind his ear.  “This is how they wear it on the plains,” he replied unapologetically.  “If it were any shorter I couldn’t claim to be a scout.”  He went on to explain that any Native American who got the better of him would have quite a scalp on their hands. (2)

William pulled Louisa close to him and kissed her face.  They were happy to see one another, but she thought he looked thin and tired.  She promised to serve him a fine meal once he “made himself presentable.”  After playfully tossing his daughter in the air a few times and tickling her ribs, he reluctantly went to take a bath and change out of his buckskins into store-bought clothes.

William’s appearance was significantly less wild when he sat down to eat dinner that evening with his family.  It gave Louisa pleasure to see how well he liked her cooking.  The good food, congenial surroundings, his wife’s attentiveness, and the affection of his daughter were not enough to entice him to stay put for an extended period of time.

General Phil Sheridan, commander of the troops on the western front, needed William as a scout for the Fifth Cavalry.  The outfit was being transferred from Fort Lyon, Colorado, to Fort McPherson, Nebraska.  As soon as the passage way was made safe from assault by the Sioux, Cheyenne, Kiwas, and Arapahoe Indians, William promised to return for Louisa and Arta and take them with him to the Northern Plains.  The day he announced that he needed to be on his way, a troubled light came to Louisa’s eyes, and the lines around her mouth deepened with sorrow.  She worried for her husband’s well-being on such a dangerous journey.  She did not doubt his ability as a hunter, she had been present at numerous shooting expeditions where William occasionally and successfully competed.

Riflemen challenged the claim that he was the best buffalo hunter in the West.  Huge sums of money were offered to William to prove his talent.  Hundreds of spectators would converge at the spot where the contests were held, twenty miles east of Fort Sheridan, Illinois.  William and his opponents would hunt for eight hours to see who could shoot the most buffalo.  William always won.  Many of the Plains Indians knew of his reputation and feared him.  Louisa hoped his notoriety would protect him beyond the area where he earned his fame.  Soon after William rode off to join Sheridan’s troops, Louisa began packing and making arrangements to go with him when he returned.

Riding well in advance of the cavalry, William blazed a trail through treacherous, unsettled territory scanning the area for hostile Indians.  Not far from Fort Larned, Kansas, where his trip originated, he spotted a large gathering of Kiawa and Comanche braves.  Other than being restless and anxious about receiving a herd of cattle the U.S. Government had promised the tribes, William accepted the word of the Indian leaders that they were not planning any attack.  It did not go unnoticed by him, however, that many of the Natives were armed with rifles and had a generous supply of ammunition.  He continued on his way, but kept a careful eye out for tribesmen who might be considering going on the warpath.

Days after his first encounter with the Indians, he was hurrying towards the next outpost on the trek to get supplies and a fresh mount when he was stopped by forty braves.  He recognized them as the same men whom he had met outside Fort Larned.  Their faces were now smeared with red paint, and their demeanor was clearly unfriendly.  William was jerked off his ride, disarmed, and escorted to their camp along the Arkansas River.  After some fast talking and the promise to help round up several head of cattle and drive them to their village, William was set free.

More than a dozen braves trailed along behind him to make sure he would do what he said.  William slowly managed to pull ahead of his followers and eventually spurred his ride into a full gallop.  A chase between the scout and the Indians ensued.  The braves were gaining on William just as he spotted a party of soldiers moving out of a thicket beside a stream.  The troops noticed William was in trouble and took position with their rifles to fire on the incoming Indians.  When William reached the soldiers he leaped off his mount and fell in with them.  Several shots were fired, and two braves were killed.  The remaining Indians turned away from the ambush and rode back to their encampment. (3)

The Indian uprising along the route did not end with the exchange of gunfire outside Fort Larned.  Native Americans were sullen and bitter about the intrusion on their land and the slaughter of the buffalo.  From the time William left Louisa at the Kansas military post in 1867 until the time he was able to move his family to Nebraska two years later, he would be involved in numerous skirmishes with a variety of Indian tribes.

One of the most dangerous of the armed conflicts occurred in the summer of 1869 on the north fork of Nebraska’s Beaver Creek.  William was leading a group of civilian scouts and Fifth Cavalry soldiers through the dangerous area when they happened upon a tribe of more than 300 Cheyenne warriors and their families.  All were traveling along the water’s edge.  Word of the Indian’s presence was sent to the commander of the troops, and orders were given to the soldiers to keep themselves low in the ravine to avoid being detected.  William was sent ahead to find out how quickly the Indians were moving and in what direction.  He returned with the recommendation that the Cavalry attack the Cheyenne before they discovered the Army was there.

The tribe was not caught unaware.  Their own scouts had caught sight of the Army.  The Indians lined up on one side of the creek-bed and were waiting for the advancing soldiers.  The Fifth Cavalry’s commander, General Carr, divided his men into divisions and concentrated a wave of troops on the point in the line that had the least number of warriors.  A rogue lieutenant decided to attack another point in the line and found himself and his division surrounded by 100 warring Cheyenne.  While the remaining troops fought to rescue the men, the Indians fortified their defense.  They held off the Cavalry long enough to get the women and children out of the area and then, a little at a time, began retreating towards the Republican River.

William’s superior shooting and riding skills were instrumental in driving the Cheyenne into the hills and out of the immediate area.  The grueling battle had left the scout and the other members of the Cavalry exhausted and in need of provisions, ammunition, fresh horses, and reinforcements.  The soldiers knew the Cheyenne were tenacious and would mount a counter attack.  They knew they would need more help to fight back the rested warriors.  William, who had been severely wounded in the episode, volunteered to travel to the nearest fort for assistance.

General Carr recalled William’s brave ride in his daily log.  “…His head was swathed in a bloody handkerchief, which served as a bandage as well as a chapeau, his hat having been shot off, the bullet plowing his scalp badly for about five inches.  He was bleeding profusely – a very close call, but a lucky one.  The advance guard had been relieved, the Indians severely punished, with a loss on our side of only three killed.  Our greatest need was supplies, which the hot trail had side tracked.  As the country was infested with Indians, and it was fifty miles to the nearest supply point, Fort Kearney, on consultation with Cody he decided it would be best to undertake the job himself, a point of characteristic of him, as he never shirked duty or faltered in emergencies.

I gave him the best horse in the outfit, and when twilight arrived, he, after patching up his head a little, was off to bring relief and meet us at a point northwest about a day’s march away.  These were about the most definite directions any scout got in the trackless wastes….  Cody made a ride of fifty miles during the night, arriving at Fort Kearney at daylight.  (4)

He had chased and fought Indians all day, been wounded, and when, through his rare frontier instinct, he reached us he had been almost constantly in the saddle and without sleep for forty hours.”

By late summer 1869, William had moved Louisa and Arta to Fort McPherson and the family was busy partaking in the many social engagements at the post.  At 22, Buffalo Bill, as many came to call him, was recognized by military leaders and government officials as the best guide and hunter on the plains.  He and Louisa were highly sought after guests at dinners, dances, and weekly stage plays.

Female camp followers, wives and daughters of the military men stationed at the fort, found William’s unconventional looks appealing.  They were attentive and eager to be near him.  Louisa had become accustomed to William’s long whiskers and found them as attractive as the other ladies did.  (5)  She had her share of admirers at the post as well.  Settlers, soldiers, and cowboys kept her dance card full at every gala.  (6)

William was proud of his wife, and, in the first year together at the army camp, the two shared many wonderful memories.  Years later, Louisa fondly recalled a Christmas when William left the fort to travel to Cheyenne, Wyoming to bring back “gifts and other necessities of the season.”  While waiting for him to return, she and some of the other wives decorated the hall where a Christmas party was to be held.  She helped prepare a massive holiday meal for the soldiers and their families as well.  William arrived back at the post with a wagon that was overflowing with presents for Arta and the other children who lived there.  “The program,” Louisa later wrote, “came off in high style, except when our daughter stood up and recited a bit of a silly verse her father had taught her, instead of the more appropriate recitation I had selected for her.”  (7)

The Codys’ home at Fort McPherson was a modest two-room cabin with a small log barn located next to it.  Prior to Louisa and Arta’s arrival, William had furnished the home with items he ordered from a store in Cheyenne.  In his attempt to make the primitive structure presentable for his wife and child, he tried to paper the rough walls of the cabin.  He abandoned the chore before it was completed.  “I’m more of a success as an Injun killer,” he told his wife as she inspected the messy job.  Louisa was grateful for her husband’s efforts.  (8)

William wasn’t the only one in the family who had dangerous dealings with the Native Americans who surrounded the post.  Louisa had her share of menacing encounters as well.  One incident occurred at the Codys’ cabin while Louisa and her friend, Mrs. Charles McDonald, were working on sewing projects.  They heard a noise outside the building and spotted hostile Indians lurking about.  The two women knew that braves were mortally afraid of drunken women, so the pair guzzled down a bottle of tea and pretended to be inebriated.  When the Natives saw their behavior they fled in terror.  William was pleased with the fact that Louisa could take care of herself if needed.  He worried less about the safety of his wife and baby when he was out on a scouting mission because he knew she was a capable woman.

The Codys’ marriage grew strong during their time at the fort.  The time they spent together during breaks between scouting expeditions and community activities was enjoyable.  They looked forward to the new baby they were soon going to have and building a life for themselves in Nebraska once William’s commitment to the army reached its end.  Louisa had big plans for her and her husband, but so did Ned Buntline.

Ned Buntline was a newspaper publisher and writer.  He was traveling through the region delivering lectures on the evils of drinking when he met William.  The two men were at Fort Sedgwick, Nebraska when they were introduced.  Ned was fascinated with the adventures the seasoned scout had experienced.  He spent hours questioning William about his life and listening to harrowing tales of near death experiences and survival on the untamed frontier.  Ned was so impressed with William that when he returned to his home state of New York, he penned a dime novel entitled Buffalo Bill: The King of Bordermen – the Wildest and Truest Story I Ever Wrote.  (9)

The book was a huge success and helped make William the most famous westerner to date.  The book became a series, and William read each installment with great enthusiasm and wonder.  He and Ned corresponded between novels, and any new stories involving the daring scout’s encounters with Indians were transformed into another book.  (10)

William’s popularity was still on the rise when his and Louisa’s son was born on November 26, 1870.  The couple named him Kit Carson, after the famed frontiersman William had met when he was a boy.  Not long after Kit’s birth, William was offered the job of Justice of the Peace of Cottonwood Springs.  The one-time Pony Express station and county seat for North Platte was one mile southeast of Fort McPherson.  A series of crimes were being perpetrated outside the jurisdiction of the post.  Government property was being hijacked coming into and going out of the army camp.  The post commander had no jurisdiction over the civilians who were behind the thefts which is why a judge to handle such legal issues needed to be appointed.

William was hesitant at first about accepting the job.  He told the post commander that he didn’t “know any more about law than a government mule does about book-keeping.” (11)  Believing the job would not only keep William close to her, but be a prestigious honor as well, Louisa convinced him to take the position.  William tracked down horse thieves, settled property disputes, officiated at weddings, and over divorce proceedings. (12)

William’s interest in scouting and buffalo hunting did not wane with his new position.  He was called on many times to guide buffalo hunting parties for such well-known men as General Phil Sheridan and the Grand Duke of Russia.  Louisa sent her husband out on such expeditions dressed in elaborate, ornamental garments she had stitched herself.  Those who accompanied him on various hunts, such as General Henry E. Davies, wrote in his book Ten Days on the Plains about how striking William looked.  “Tall and somewhat slight in figure, though possessed of great strength and iron endurance, straight and erect as an arrow, and with strikingly handsome features, he once attracted to him all with whom he became acquainted, and the better knowledge we gained of him during the days he spent with our party increased the good impression he made upon his introduction.”  (13)

The hunting parties William organized and led earned him a considerable amount of money as well as gifts of furs and priceless jewels.  He was mindful of providing for his family’s well-being, but was prone to mismanaging his income if Louisa did not intercede.  He was overly generous to his friends and made poor investment decisions.  Louisa was thrifty and, although she liked fine things, lived in moderation.

The buffalo hunt William planned for Russia’s Grand Duke Alexis resulted in not only a substantial fee for his work, but also a trip to New York.  William had always wanted to visit the east coast, and, out of gratitude for the excellent entertainment Cody offered him, the Duke made arrangements for the scout to make the journey.

Had it not been for the fact that Louisa was expecting their third child, she would have accompanied William on the excursion.  She made sure her husband was ready for his introduction into eastern society regardless.  She worked diligently on adding appropriate garments to his wardrobe.  “We procured some blue cloth at the commissary and, sewing day and night, I made Will his first real soldier suit,” Louisa recalled in her memoirs, “with a Colonel’s gold braid on it, with stripes and cords and all the other gingerbread of an old-fashioned suit of blues.”  (14)  (Colonel was an honorary title given to William by the Governor of Nebraska while serving in the Nebraska National Guard.)

William was well received at every stop along the tour of the eastern cities.  He was treated to fine meals with high ranking government officials and well-known entertainers.  He was invited to balls and introduced to troupes of beautiful women all seeking his favor and attention.  Journalists followed William everywhere he went and recorded what he said at the many events he attended, including a performance of a play written by Ned Buntline based on the novel the author had penned about the daring scout.

The audience gave William a standing ovation when they were informed he was in the theatre.  At Ned’s insistence, he reluctantly made his way to the center of the stage to take a bow.  The response prompted the backers of the show to offer William $500 to play himself.  “You might as well try to make an actor out of a government mule,” William told the theatre manager. (15)

William extended his trip by ten days and would have continued traveling a bit longer if not for an order from General Sheridan to return to Fort McPherson.  Before being rushed off to another uprising between the army and the Indians, he enjoyed a brief visit with his wife and children.  He shared the particulars of his trip with Louisa, but chose not to elaborate on the ladies he met at the various dances where he was a guest.  She learned the details of those outings on her own through the newspaper accounts of his journey.

William wasn’t home long before he hired on as a scout with another hunting expedition.  The time he spent away from the job in New York had made him feel a little insecure about whether or not he could still do the work.  “Why, Mamma,” he joked to Louisa,  “I’m such a tenderfoot right now from being away that I’d run if I even saw an Injun!”  In spite of his brief doubts, he proved himself on the wild plains again and again.

In the summer of 1872, he and his scouting partner, Texas Jack Omohundro, led a group of British sportsmen on a hunting trip that was attacked by North Platte Indians.  Not only did William protect the sportsmen from being killed or captured, but he also helped them acquire the buffalo they hoped to win.  William’s contribution as a scout for the military, combined with his work in helping to keep the peace on the wild frontier, was recognized by the U.S.  Government presenting him with the Congressional Medal of Honor.

In between the various hunting trips, military assignments, award ceremonies, and a short-lived stint in politics, William became a father for the third time.  Louisa gave birth to Orra Maude on August 13, 1872.  Not long after the baby was born, Louisa’s parents urged her to bring the children to St. Louis for a visit, and she agreed.

While his family was away, William decided to accept Ned’s persistent requests to travel with him to Chicago and appear as the lead in the stage play about Cody’s adventures.  William wrote Louisa of his intentions noting, “I don’t know just how bad I’d be at actin’.  I guess maybe I better find out.”  (16)

Ned assumed William would make the trip to Illinois with a troupe of westerners in tow (Indians, trappers, riders, etc.) who would participate in the show with him.  Texas Jack was the only person with him when he arrived in Chicago.  He was so excited that William had changed his mind about participating in the play that he wasn’t overly concerned about the additional casting.  However, the owner of the theatre where the program was to take place was furious.  Not only because William came to town with just one other person, but also because the play itself hadn’t been written yet.

The situation was quickly remedied.  Ned penned a melodrama entitled The Scouts of the Prairie; actors, dancers, and set builders were hired.  All those who hadn’t answered the call to go west were invited to see the play depicting the wilds beyond the Rockies.  On December 12, 1872, audiences flocked to the opening night performance.  The box office receipts for the debut show were more than $2,800.  Ned took his troupe of novice entertainers on the road.  Regardless of the poor reviews the show received for its writing and some of the performances, The Scouts of the Prairie was a financial success.

Louisa was taken aback when William announced he was going to resign as a scout for the army so he might continue with Ned’s show.  “His primary motivation was providing for the children,” Louise wrote in her memoirs.  “He wanted money to send the children to fine schools and give them everything they needed.”  By the end of the first season, William had earned more than $6,000.  It was more money than he had made in all the years he had been a military scout.

His family accompanied him on the road until he purchased a home for them in Rochester, New York in mid 1873.  After making sure Louisa and the children had all they would need until he could see them again, he rode off to rejoin the cast of Ned’s show and enjoy the additional fame the play offered him.

(1)  Yost, Nellie Snyder  Buffalo Bill His Family, Friends, Fame, Failures and Fortunes Sage Books  Chicago 1979  Pg. 18

 

(2)  Cody, Louisa & Cooper, Courtney Ryley  Memories of Buffalo Bill D. Appleton & Company  New York 1919  Pg. 155-157

 

(3)  Cody, William F.  An Autobiography of Buffalo Bill Cosmopolitan Book Corporation  New Jersey 1920  Pg. 137-140, Regli, Adolph  The Real Book About Buffalo Bill  Garden City Books  New York 1952  Pg. 141,  Yost, Nellie Snyder  Buffalo Bill His Family, Friends, Fame, Failures and Fortunes Sage Books  Chicago 1979  Pg. 4

 

(4)  Goodman, Julia Cody & Leonard, Elizabeth  Buffalo Bill: King of the Old West  Library Publishers  New York 1955   Pg. 188, Cody, William  The Adventures of Buffalo Bill  Harper & Brothers  New York 1904  Pg. 135

 

(5)  Regli, Adolph  The Real Book About Buffalo Bill  Garden City Books  New York 1952  Pg. 160

 

 

 

(6)  Yost, Nellie Snyder  Buffalo Bill His Family, Friends, Fame, Failures and Fortunes Sage Books  Chicago 1979

 

Pg. 40

 

(7)  Cody, Louisa & Cooper, Courtney Ryley  Memories of Buffalo Bill D. Appleton & Company  New York 1919  Pg. 196-205

 

(8)  Ibid.,  Pg. 160-164

 

(9)  Goodman, Julia Cody & Leonard, Elizabeth  Buffalo Bill: King of the Old West  Library Publishers  New York 1955   Pg. 195-196, Yost, Nellie Snyder  Buffalo Bill His Family, Friends, Fame, Failures and Fortunes Sage Books  Chicago 1979  Pg. 25, Cody, William F.  Buffalo Bill’s Life Story  Cosmopolitan Book Corporation  New Jersey 1920  Pg. 159

 

(10)  Monaghan, Jay  The Great Rascal: The Life & Adventures of Ned Buntline  Bantam Book  New York 1953  Pg. 4

 

(11)  Yost, Nellie Snyder  Buffalo Bill His Family, Friends, Fame, Failures and Fortunes Sage Books  Chicago 1979

 

Pg. 45

 

 

(12)  Cody, Louisa & Cooper, Courtney Ryley  Memories of Buffalo Bill D. Appleton & Company  New York 1919  Pg. 207

 

(13)  Davies, Henry E. & Hutton, Paul A.  Ten Days on the Plains Southern Methodist University  Dallas, TX. 1985

 

Pg. 25-26

 

(14)  Louisa & Cooper, Courtney Ryley  Memories of Buffalo Bill D. Appleton & Company  New York 1919  Pg. 218

 

(15)  Russell, Don  The Lives & Legends of Buffalo Bill Cody  University of Oklahoma Press  Norman, OK. 1979  Pg. 182

 

(16)  Louisa & Cooper, Courtney Ryley  Memories of Buffalo Bill D. Appleton & Company  New York 1919  Pg. 232

 

 

 

 

 

Born This Day

Elizabeth and I

My great nephew Daniel Everett Brady was born last night.  It’s hard to keep my focus and write about the Old West with such news.  I have such a wonderful time with my great niece Elizabeth when I return to Missouri, I look forward to having just as much fun with Daniel.  Elizabeth likes to dance.  My last visit home she and I danced for hours to the Taylor Swift song Mean.  Elizabeth is mute but exceptional at signing.  She’s a brilliant child and beautiful.  Daniel Everett was named after my brothers Scott Daniel and Rick Everett.  I think my niece Melissa is quite magnanimous for making this kind gesture.  I’m so proud of her.  The memory of my brother Rick will live on in little Daniel.  Every time we say his full name we’ll be reminded of his Uncle.  Maybe I can persuade Daniel to dance with Elizabeth and I – to throw his little hands high in the air and celebrate life and the memory of all those that came before us.

Wild West Prisons

The last picture taken of my brother

The lawlessness of the 1860’s through the 1890’s, wrote criminologist Cesare Lombroso “is an American phenomenon with no equal in the rest of the world.”  Statistics of the period – if not- entirely reliable – appear to substantiate his claim.  In this period the crime rate rose 445 percent against population rise of 170 percent.  Dominating the record was, of course, the West, where the gun happy barbarity was damned by observers both foreign and native for producing a “great dismal swamp of civilization.”  The lawlessness of the cities was less romanticized, but its perils were even greater to the common citizen.  Penal philosophy in the latter half of the nineteenth century did not advance with technology.  Prisons were strictly for punishment, which was carried out with medieval excesses.  Public opinion as a whole supported this view and criminals customarily were treated as a subhuman species. Although there were some lawmen like Captain Sam Sixkiller from the Oklahoma Indian Territory, who supported and promoted prison reform, unyielding repression was the rule.  The very worse prisons in the Old West could be found in Texas.  Men there were chained in iron collars.  A boy of fourteen sentenced to five years for only being in a whisky shop where a man was killed, was slapped in handcuffs that cut deep into his wrists.  Owning to the corruption and incompetence of the court system, the prison housed many who were innocent of crime or mentally deranged.  And upon these unfortunates penal barbarity had it most crippling impact.  Nothing much has changed since the days of the Old West.  I’ve seen first hand a man slowly go from one who could walk and run with no difficulty to one who can barely stand and hold utensils to feed himself.  His eyesight is failing rapidly and he has no teeth.  There is no one in the penal system of 21st century that does anymore than those from the 1860s.  The idea that there are “white collar” prisons are a myth perpetuated by motion pictures and television shows.  The one I knew as brother is all but gone now.  I found out the week of January 16, 2012 that the proscecuting attorney trying my brother’s case accused my brother of trying to escape to California.  I had him visit me for a week in order to help him through a difficult time and that was all there was to it.   Just one more lie the proscecuting attorney told.  I won’t rest until the real criminals are confined to the same life Rick was wrongfully assigned.

What Started It All

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This article is about the first play I penned while I was attending the University of Arizona.  The actress that starred in the comedy is now on Broadway.  What a great memory!  Until the folks that really know what they’re doing with this site can fix the sizing of the article – you can view the printed material through the author gallery section of the site.  And now for the news:

www.saclibraryfoundation.org

Authors on the Move

Sacramento’s Premier Literary Event

Saturday, March 3, 2012  5 PM – 10 PM

This year’s “Authors on the Move: The Plot Thickens, The Future of Libraries” presents keynote

speakers, John Lescroart and Lisa Lutzand their current works, The Hunter and the Trail of the Spellmans respectfully. This year marks our 10th annual presentation of the Authors on the Move gala and we are looking forward to a lovely literary evening.

Paul Robins, tv host and anchor for “FOX40 Live”, and avid reader, will be moderating what promises to be a lively dialogue about current trends in book publishing and how those trends could affect libraries, With witty antics and charming torts, Lescroart, Lutz are sure to fill the room with laughter.

In addtion to our guest speakers, we will have

45 local and regional authors (Western author Chris Enss will be among the writers) visiting guest tables during the evening. We are incredibly excited to present regional authors of this caliber to our guests and look forward to a magical evening. Our book sponsor this year will be The Avid Reader and will have all 45 books for sale the night of the event.

David Sobon is coming back as our auctioneer and we promise to have once in a life time opportunity auction items! And because last year’s Summer Reading Fund-an-Item was so successful, the Library would like us to do it again.

The evening’s meal will be prepared by Executive Chef Ian Libberton of the Hyatt Sacramento and Shenandoah Vineyards and Sobon Estate has generously stepped in as our wine sponsor for the evening. Authors on the Move sells out every year, so reserve your tables early. Reserve your table today.


Rotgut and the Godfather

The driving force behind the journal section of this website was to elaborate on information I learned researching Old West stories for the books I write. For example: Television and motion picture westerns would have viewers believe whisky was the drink of choice for cowhands and miners. The truth is whisky was in short supply beyond the Mississippi and bartenders made up drinks they liked to call whisky. A mixture of water, heated sugar, turpentine (sometimes), and a tobacco plug was served to saloon patrons who requested whisky. “Rotgut” as it was also known, could make a person very ill. Those aware of how sick it could make them ordered champagne drinks or coffee. After spending five days in Missouri meeting with attorneys and private investigators I feel like I’ve had massive quantities of rotgut. And here’s where the journal entries turn from being solely about Wild West facts to Midwest tragedy. I learned during this visit that a once beloved family member sought to cause irreparable harm to the case involving my brother. It was malicious and purposeful and inexcusable. When I was informed what had happened I felt like Al Pacino’s character in the film The Godfather must have felt when he learned his brother Fredo had betrayed him. Pacino’s character waited for just the right time to tell his brother that he knew what he’d done. “I know it was you, Fredo,” he said grabbing Fredo’s face hard and kissing him. “You broke my heart.” What happened stings but the lawyers assure me they can work around it. There’s hope for my brother. A trial is on the way along with a healthy dose of retribution. When this is all over I’m going to need plenty of homemade brew to get beyond the hurt and the insurmountable loss however. I’ll saunter into a saloon and demand that the bartender, or chemist as they were also known in the Old West, serve whisky to my friends and rotgut to my enemies.

The Lie That Kills

There are lies, there are damn lies, and there are lies that kill. Like the lies the adopted son of a well-known university basketball coach made. He told authorities he had been sexually molested and yesterday admitted to the press that it never really happened. “I don’t know how I could have told such a lie,” the liar told reporters. His truth comes too late. His father’s career has been destroyed, his friends have ostracized him, his family has been torn apart, his reputation massacred. This false allegation will follow his father for the rest of his life. And there are so many other cases of false allegation that have killed everything a person built. For example: In 1992, Dale Duke was recently married, when his step-daughter accused him of sexual assault. Duke pled no contest to the charge in order to receive a deferred adjudication, and was later sentenced to 20 years prison for refusing to admit the sexual assault in a Sex Offender Treatment Program as part of his sentence. About a year after, the step-daughter recanted her testimony, claiming that the sexual assault had never happened, and that she made it up. In 2011, Duke’s attorney discovered that the Prosecutors office had never shared with the defense exculpatory information that the girl’s grandmother had told police that she thought the “victim” was untruthful and that her aunt had actually convinced the girl to fabricate the story. This exoneration comes after Duke has served almost 14 years in prison for this “crime” that never happened. Some liars are murderers. A lie that horrible takes the focus off those that are real victims. Those that might end up dead at the hand of their abusers. That’s a lie that kills in my estimation. I pray for their souls and for those that lost everything they ever were and everything they were ever going to be before the lie.

Wanted

Among the most compelling want-ads I’ve come across while doing research on the Old West is an advertisement that initially ran in a London newspaper. British Antarctic explorer Sir Ernest Shackleton placed the ad in preparation for the National Antarctic Expedition (which subsequently failed to reach the South Pole). Shackleton later said of the call for volunteers that “it seemed as though all the men in Great Britain were determined to accompany me, the response was so overwhelming.” The advertisement read as follows: MEN WANTED FOR HAZARDOUS JOURNEY. Small wages, bitter cold, long months of complete darkness, constant danger, safe return doubtful. Honor and recognition in case of success. I am inspired by the courage of men like Shackleton. The characters John Wayne and Jeffrey Hunter played in the film The Searchers are equally as courageous in my estimation. Wayne plays Ethan Edwards, a believer more in bullets than in words. He’s seeking his niece, captured by Comanche who massacred his family. He won’t surrender to hunger, thirst, the elements or loneliness. And in his obsessive, five-year quest, Ethan encounters something he didn’t expect to find: his own humanity. Hunter plays the brother of the kidnap victim in the picture. He absolutely will not give up on finding his sister. I can identify with the characters in that film. You’d be surprised at the lengths you will go for a lost loved one. I’d gladly give up my life to save my brother’s. I travel back to Missouri this week to try and get help for my brother. Some tough decisions will have to be made. Heartache will surely ensue. I covet all the prayers I can get in this situation. It’s been eight long years. When I feel like giving up I think about Shackleton’s ad and his expedition and of a particular line from The Searchers. In the film Wayne’s character is asked by the Reverend, played by Ward Bond, if he wants to quit combing the territory for his niece, give up and go home. Wayne’s character responds with a simple but forceful “That’ll be the day.” That’s how I feel about giving up on Rick – “That’ll be the day.”