On March 20, 1865, George Custer was at White House Landing in Virginia. “My darling,” he wrote his wife at the end of his work day, “we are now resting our horses and obtaining such supplies as are needed after a march of 500 miles. The staff are gathered about the camp fire singing: “It’s a Way we have in the Army,” and “Let every old Bachelor fill up his glass, and drink to the health of this Favorite Lass…. I long for the return of peace. I look forward to our future with earnest hope. Our state may be far below our present one. We may not have the means for enjoyment we now possess, but we shall have enough and to spare. Above all, we shall have each other.” The sentiment would have been much more compelling had he not been involved with other women. Still, it’s a much more romantic letter other post- Civil War letters I’ve come across. One letter in particular stands out that a husband wrote his wife around the same time period: “When you’re away, I’m restless and lonely, wretched, bored, dejected, only – here’s the rub, my darling dear, I feel the same when you are here.” I do think George and Elizabeth loved one another very deeply, but there are times the term is overused. Love has been used to describe everything from how we feel about diapers to the devotion and sacrifice of the Savior. I certainly think it’s too easy to say. And only in rare exceptions does it have staying power. For example, I received an email from a niece a few weeks ago that read, “I love and care about you, Aunt Chris.” Not less than a day later another email arrives from the same niece informing me that she “never wants to hear from me again – ever!” The Elizabeth Custer book will soon be released. I want readers to…dare I say it…love the book. If being in this profession has taught me anything, it’s that people who might hate the book won’t be shy about hiding their feelings. None Wounded, None Missing, All Dead represents a sizeable chunk of my writing life. I loved the opportunity – at the very least I want people to like it. But it’s out of my hands now – a situation I’m never very comfortable with. A wonderful author by the name of Chuck Parsons once shared a quote with me by Michener, it goes “Never complain, never explain, never disdain.” I’m going to try, Chuck.
Journal Notes
Slow Justice
Pope Paul VI once said, “If you want peace, work for justice.” I want peace and I’ve been working for more than six years for justice. It inches closer everyday…and just like the murderers Earp went after, the outlaws don’t have any idea it’s coming. Some rides to justice are longer than others, but it does come around. The Earp Vendetta Ride, or simply the Earp Vendetta, was a three-week clash from March 20 to April 15, 1882 between personal enemies and federal and local law enforcement agencies in the Arizona Territory. It became romanticized in history as “The Last Charge of Wyatt Earp and His Immortals,” as the men involved earned a reputation that they could not be killed. The vendetta ride was variously known in newspapers of that time as the Earp Vendetta or Arizona War. The vendetta was a result of the tensions leading up to the Gunfight at the O.K. Corral on October 26, 1881, the attempted murder of Tombstone Marshal Virgil Earp on December 28, and the assassination of United States Deputy Marshal Morgan Earp on March 18, 1882. U.S. Deputy Marshal Wyatt Earp led a federal posse with a warrant for the arrest of “Curly Bill” Brocius. In October 1880, Wyatt had saved Curly Bill from a probable lynching and then testified that his shooting of Marshall Fred White was accidental, saving him from a murder indictment. Now, in March 1881, he was pursuing Curly Bill with the intention to kill him. The Earp posse took no prisoners but killed at least four men between March 20–24, beginning with the shooting of Frank Stilwell and ending with the killing of Curly Bill. During their ride, the Earp federal posse was pursued by a local County Sheriff’s posse consisting of Sheriff Johnny Behan and deputies Phineas Cochise Clanton, Johnny Ringo, and about twenty other Arizona ranchers and outlaws. Johnny Behan deliberately failed to include Pima County Sheriff Bob Paul who had jurisdiction over the Tucson killing of Frank Stillwell for which the sheriff’s posse sought Wyatt Earp and his fellow riders. The Behan posse never engaged the much smaller Earp posse, although it charged Cochise County USD$2593.65 for its expenses (about $58,831 in today’s dollars. The vendetta ride is an example of a jurisdictional dispute and failure of the law enforcement system in the Old West on the frontier. The ride ended April 15 when the Earps and their associates rode out of the Arizona Territory and headed for Colorado. That failure of the law enforcement system didn’t end on the Old West’s frontier. The fight for truth and justice didn’t end there either.
Tilghman & Justice
Bill Tilghman was the greatest lawman that ever lived. I arrived back from the Missouri trip even more convinced of that notion. In addition to the digging I did on my brother’s case, I researched the life and times of Tilghman. It gave me the boost I needed to continue working to make sure Rick is vindicated. In 1896, Bill Tilghman doggedly chased outlaw Bill Doolin from Guthrie, Oklahoma to Eureka Springs, Arkansas. Doolin assumed the law would forget about him and leave him alone. He traveled to Eureka Springs to take advantage of the therapeutic water. He’d been shot during a robbery and the injury gave him endless grief and thought a soak in the water would help him to feel better. The Persistent Tilghman tracked the bad guy to the Davey Hotel. Doolin was registered as Tom Wilson. According to Tilghman, “When I entered the bath house…I saw Bill Doolin sitting on a lounge in the further corner of the room reading a paper. He looked up sharply as I entered and it seemed to me for a second that he recognized me but I walked briskly through the room and into the bath at once…. With my gun in hand I slipped quietly in the room up to the stove he was sitting behind then jumping around the stove to the position immediately in front of Doolin and told him to throw up his hands and surrender. He got up saying, “What do you mean, I have done nothing,” but I grabbed his right wrist with my left hand as he raised it to get his gun and with the revolver in my right hand leveled at his head ordered him to throw up his left land. He put it up part way and then made a pass toward his gun but I told him I would shoot if he made another move.” Hundreds of people poured into Guthrie from throughout the territory to see the robber and murderer escorted back to the scene of the crime. Tilghman was celebrated for the job he’d done and accepted the accolades with quiet dignity. The investigators who have uncovered truth about my brother should be just as celebrated. They are as dedicated as Tilghman. Who knows where the bad guys will finally be tracked? Guess it doesn’t really matter. I’m satisfied they will be exposed. As I’ve written in the past, justice is coming.
The Evil They Do
An e-newsletter announcing the upcoming launch of the Elizabeth Custer book entitled None Wounded, None Missing, All Dead will be sent out tomorrow morning. I’ll be in Missouri by the time the particulars of the tome reach readers, which is just as well because I’ve done nothing but worry about the material for months now. I’ve spent years working on the book and enjoyed getting to know Elizabeth Custer. It was amusing to learn how unimpressed she was with the Boy General when she first met him. “I don’t care for him except as an escort,” she wrote one of her friends. “He just passed the house and I couldn’t forbear making a sketch of him for you.” Of course, her feelings changed as time went on. Elizabeth was a great champion of his always, but I believe George did break her heart on more than one occasion. As I mentioned, I won’t be in my office this week to receive any comments that might come in about the book. I’ll be in Missouri visiting family and sorting through the most recent information discovered about my brother. After more than six years, people are coming forward to say what they know. It grieves me that this news has come so late, but most everything about this situation has grieved me. It will ultimately help Rick and that’s the goal. My heart rejoices in the information while my mind is thinking, “My Heavenly Father, what evil people there are in this world. What kind of mind could construct such lies and continue on?” T.S. Eliot has the answer. “Half of the harm that is done in this world is due to people who want to feel important. They don’t mean to do harm – but the harm does not interest them.” I believe those that have caused such harm will be interested enough in the weeks to come. I believe Elizabeth Custer felt the same way about the women she knew George had been involved. Those ladies didn’t mean to do harm – but the harm did not interest them. Elizabeth made sure that at the very least it made them uncomfortable. I hope for that concerning my brother – a good man in a cell suffering with tremors brought on by Parkinson’s, brought on by a violent act that left him near dead. But wait…I almost forgot…there’s no interest in the harm they do. I shall try to avoid these soulless creatures the entire time I’m the area. It’s what Elizabeth would have done and I think it was a wise decision. Please do let me know your thoughts about the upcoming title I’d like to hear from you. My email address is gvcenss@aol.com And please give a listen to the interview I did for the syndicated radio show Chronicle of the Old West about the Elizabeth Custer book. You can access the show on the home page of my site.
Even at the Point of Dying
The release of the Elizabeth Custer book is a month away. I’ve been rereading her journal entries and have grown to like her even more than I already had. She was fearless, but she did worry that after she died no one would be able to answer malignant tongues who would defame her husband, George. Living, she could confront them with documentary vindication. After George’s death in 1876, Elizabeth was in high demand to speak at women’s clubs, historical society meetings, etc… She never passed up a chance to defend her husband’s actions and motives in precipitating the last major Indian battle on the frontier. Elizabeth stood up for George for 56 years. After all his critics were either imprisoned or had died off, Elizabeth was still there as his champion. I think her travels and speaking engagements were a sophisticated version of Wyatt Earp’s vendetta ride. Seventy-eight years after Elizabeth’s passing her voice can still be heard telling the world that George was wronged and falsely accused. Good for you, Elizabeth. Justice does come. It may take awhile, but it comes. As the Roman philosopher, Seneca once said, “Injustice never rules forever.” Like Elizabeth, I’m counting on that.
That Pioneer Spirit
Being snowed in for two days without power gives one a great deal of time to reflect. Mostly I reflected on the fact that I don’t care much for being snowed in with no power. I hope the worst of the winter weather is behind us. I admire the pioneers who made the journey west to settle in a new land. I do not possess the pioneering spirit. There’s nothing I want badly enough that would prompt me to brave below freezing temperatures and forego a nice, hot pizza. My idea of roughing it is a day without cable. I did spend some time thinking about the brave pioneering women and the role they played in settling the wild frontier. Prior to writing books about women of the Old West, I thought females on the frontier fell into two categories. They were either much like the character of Miss Kitty from the Gunsmoke series or Laura Engel’s from Little House on the Prairie. I was wrong. Indeed, there were the bonneted hard working women who stood at sunset etched in bold relief against the prairie, and there were frolicsome harlots, splendid in lace and fancy goods, able to please for a dollar or love for nothing if the right man came along. However, what did the average pioneer woman do? They gathered dried buffalo chips to make fires with when timber was scarce. They helped plant crops and repair leaks on the sod roofs. They made soap, started libraries, and kept locust at bay. They kept journals and wrote about they journey. They marveled at the scenery and noted in detail the character of their traveling companions. They described what was worn, what was said, and what was accomplished. They rejoiced in births, and mourned the dead. They started churches and schools, hauled clothing to streams to be washed, helped fight off dysentery, typhus, and cholera. Many women found they were masters in crop raising, bone setting, and delivering children. They organized socials, planned weddings, cared for their infants, and prepared three meals a day. By 1890, women worked in 216 of the 300 occupations listed by the Federal Office of Opportunity. If they were widowed, they homesteaded themselves. It would be impossible to list the complete diversity of women’s experience in the West. Suffice it to say, she was tough, stubborn, and could endure anything, particularly the weather – especially the snow. It always snowed and rained on wagons and tents. Rainstorms would travel thousands of miles, against prevailing winds, for the opportunity to rain and snow on a wagon or tent. I wouldn’t have liked being a pioneer. I fell asleep at my desk once – that‘s the limit of my pioneering spirit. Think I’ll just spend the day writing about women who had the qualities I clearly lack.
Elizabeth Custer and Vengence
The last letter Elizabeth sent George was written on June 22, 1876 from Abraham Lincoln in the Dakota Territory. “My own darling,” she began, “I dreamed of you as I knew I should. Col. P. has sent word by scouts that the Post is to be attacked. I don’t feel alarmed, because we have so cool and cautious a commanding officer. He is vigilance itself. I am getting this off by tomorrow’s mail to Buford, Ohio. Oh, Autie how I feel about your going away so long without our hearing. …Your safety is ever in my mind. My thoughts, my dreams, my prayers, are all for you. God bless and keep my darling. Ever your own, Libbie.” According to her journal, Elizabeth was extremely bitter about the way Custer died. She blamed his fellow officers for leaving him and his men alone with no support. She ached for revenge. She was smart enough to temper if with common sense. If I had to be honest, the fact that she’d had a loved one taken from her by people who seemed not to care about the pain they inflicted and was vocal about their lack of compassion, was one of the things that attracted me to her story the most. Somehow she knew the parties she believed were responsible for letting her husband die would be punished. There were days when she was preoccupied with how to make them pay quickly. In the end she subscribed to a few principles I’d like to employ. They are as follows: “Delay in vengeance gives a heavier blow”, and “Revenge is a confession of pain.” I’ve just returned from the prison where my brother is located. He shakes so badly because of the Parkinsons it’s hard to talk to him about anything without crying. I left there overwhelmed with animosity and a strong desire to enact my own brand of justice on the truly unfeeling and sanctimonious four who brought all this pain into being. Once again I was reminded that’s not my place. Reading through Elizabeth’s journal reminded me of that fact. She was a strong believer in God. God asked us to forgive others who have so cruelly hurt us. When you forgive someone, you are not saying that what they did was right or even okay. You are saying that you want to be free from the memory and the bondage associated with the past. Unforgiveness has affected my prayer life. It affected Elizabeth’s prayer life. In His way and in His timing God will deal with those who have hurt us. Our responsibility is to forgive and let go of anything and everything that would prevent us from knowing God and walking in fellowship with Him each day. I don’t know that I would have been reminded of that over the last few days had I not been reading Elizabeth’s journal. It was a lesson I didn’t expect to find there.
Custer & the Search for a Father
Five years after George and Elizabeth Custer were married, George writes his wife from a location in the Wichita Mountains to share with her the trials of his command. The date was February 19, 1869. “My Darling…I have been very strict with the officers, have no favorites where duty is concerned. I have had Tom (George’s brother ) in arrest, also Y. The latter is “huffy” but I hope will soon get over it. Several officers refer to the pleasant times they have had at our house, masquerades, euchre parties and the like…. Oh, how I miss you.” In spite of the difficulties their marriage endure the couple remained devoted to one another. Rumors that George had fathered a child with another woman did not alter her attachment to him. She pressed ahead as though she never considered he could or would do such a thing. She was sure of how he felt about her and that’s all she concerned herself with. She knew he was a flirt and accepted that part of his personality. She could flirt with the best of them herself and made sure George saw the attraction other men had for her. It made him desperate to hold onto her regardless of the cost. There were no such thing as DNA testing at the time so proving any claim that he’d fathered a child with another woman was impossible in many respects to prove. I wonder how different their lives would have been had such technology been available. Not too long ago a young woman called me wanting information about my biological father. She had been told that she was his child. I could only give her information I had about his last location. I have, nor want a relationship with him. He left my brothers and I when we were quite young and never looked back. I phoned him seven years ago to ask him to help with the situation with my brother Rick. I was told then that he “had a family and we weren’t it.” And then he hung up on me. I don’t know whether the woman who contacted me ever got the answers she was looking for, but I hope she did. I think it must be an unsettling matter to not be sure of your parentage. It can be unsettling even when you do know too.
Libbie Custer & the Fight for Right
On this day more than one hundred and forty years ago, Elizabeth Custer was reading a letter her husband had written to her on their anniversary. Elizabeth was in Monroe, Michigan and George was with his troops thirty-five miles from Fort Cobb. “I have made a long march since writing you,” his letter began. We have been to try to bring in Indian villages. But our provisions became exhausted; there was no game…. General Sheridan and staff just rode up to my tent. He got here a day before us. I selected my campsite about a mile from him, then what does he do this morning but pick up his tents and come over beside me. He has done this before. Today is our wedding anniversary. I am sorry we cannot spend it together, but I shall celebrate it in my heart.” Elizabeth loved receiving letters from George. She poured over them repeatedly. He kept her well informed about his activities in the field and made her feel as though getting back to her again was his only reason for living. When he died on June 25, 1876, she not only lost her husband, but her best friend. A friend she would fight for until she passed from this life. Elizabeth studied what happened to George at the Little Bighorn and weighed it against the men involved in the battle and what she knew of them. She believed men like Frederick Benteen turned their back on the General and let him die rather than help him. She was steadfast in the truth she knew and never let Benteen or the others forget what they had done to George. Because of Elizabeth’s devotion, Benteen and fellow officer, Marcus Reno, never had a moment peace. She was relentless. Elizabeth Custer believed that injustice never rules forever. I feel the same way. You stand and stick by what you know is right and that’s just what I’m going to do with my brother. Even after he’s gone. Right will win out – and that’s a promise.
Romance & the Western
In mid-February 1872, George Custer was missing his wife terribly. He was in Kentucky and she was with family and friends shopping for clothes in Ohio. “I expect my Sunbeam is so deeply interested in the mysteries of clothes that all thoughts of her dear Bo are vanished. The little bouquet-holder you gave me stands before me holding a delicate pink rose with buds, and a spray of white flowers-reminding me of you.” At the conclusion of George’s note to his wife he wrote a short poem to her. “Love born only once in living, Truth that strengthens in the giving, Constancy beyond deceiving…” I think it’s safe to say that George loved his wife even though he had trouble at times with fidelity. And Elizabeth loved her husband and the romantic poems he penned. I never cared much for romantic poetry. With the exception of one witty rhyme, I don’t care much for poetry as a whole. Like Groucho Marx, “My favorite poem is the one that starts ‘Thirty days hath September’ because it actually tells you something.” I’m not crazy about the typical romance movie either. The dialogue never rings true. Some of the best romantic dialogue is found in a handful of my favorite westerns however. The dialogue in film Lone Star with Ava Gardner and Clark Gable is suggestive, but not verbose. For example, “Have you never heard of the word discretion, Mr. Jones?” Ava’s character asks Gable’s character, a man she finds quite attractive. “Oh, often. But I don’t approve of it. Do you?” In the film Many Rivers to Cross, actress Josephine Hutchinson describes her daughter’s feelings about the character actor Robert Taylor plays. “If he asked her to bring him the Ohio River in a saucepan, she’d do it.” I like the exchange between Henry Fonda and J. Farrell MacDonald about the woman Fonda’s character is in love with in the film My Darling Clementine. “Mack, you ever been in love?” Fonda playing Wyatt Earp asks. “No, I been a bartender all my life,” MacDonald’s character responds. And finally, the film The Naked Spur starring Madeleine Carroll and Preston Foster, has one of the best romantic lines of all time. “Do you love me,” Carroll’s character asks Foster’s character. “I might,” he replies, “but I don’t want to.”
