Journal Notes

Another week with Libbie Custer and Nellie Bly? I’m going to be tracking down a story I heard last week about a court case involving Libbie and her nemesis, Frederick Benteen. According to my source she sued him for defamation of character several years after he had passed away. In all the writing I’ve done I don’t think I’ve ever researched a woman more dedicated to a single purpose than Elizabeth Custer. She fought everyday to bolster her husband’s reputation. Her motives were not simply economical either. She believed George had been accused of something he didn’t do and was willing to go to great lengths to prove it. I promised my brother I would do the same thing. Even if he dies where’s he’s at I will not stop. Libbie Custer will be my inspiration. I’m off to Tombstone at the end of the week. Historical writers Glenn Boyer and Ben Traywick will be there with me. No one knows more about Wyatt Earp than these men. It will be a thrilled to meet them in person and get their take on today’s history writers. Hope to hear something back about the film projects this week, but with all the fires in and around Los Angeles all decisions might be delayed. I’ve got a lot of work to do today so I will put into practice the best advice I ever received, “Shut-up and write.” Thanks Dad.

Yesterday I had the unique privilege to speak with author Gail Kelly-Cuter. Gail is a descendant of George Armstrong Custer and the information she provided about her family was invaluable. I’m writing a book about Elizabeth Custer for Globe and got some great stuff about George’s relationship with an Indian woman name Monahsetah. Monahsetah knew George was married and eventually Elizabeth found out about Monahsetah. Historians will no doubt argue George’s involvement with Monahsetah. Gail has already taken a few hits for the book. When I say hits I mean people have been rude and insulting to her. The woman has been hurt and publicly ridiculed. Whether or not you agree with her story she deserves better than that from so-called educated people. I believe the fountainhead of all this bad behavior has got to be daytime talk shows. What an intergalactic freak show these are. You tell me, what Rusty the Bailiff Fan Club meeting do they go to harvest these losers? Ricki Lake? Richard Bey? Jerry Springer? These people should be not be allowed to own a TV, for crying out loud, much less be on it. And you know their guests not only aren’t ashamed of their asinine antics, they positively revel in their own grand mal ignorance. Screaming in people’s faces, screaming at the audience, the audience screaming back?. There have been so many times over the last five years I just want to say forget this culture, pack up some jerky, and go time-share with Jeremiah Johnson. I don’t want some vacant-headed Quaker land. That’s not civility, that’s banality. And I’m not talking about Martha Stewart civility either, where there’s nine forks arranged around your dinner plate like some cutlery Stonehenge. I’m simply saying, treat people with some decency. You don’t agree with what someone wrote in a book, try to engage them in a grown-up conversation about where they got their information. Don’t make fun of them in front of a large group of people or carry on about their work on a website. I guess people feel they don’t have to be civil when they hide in the dark behind a keyboard in their home or office. I believe when civility breaks down, the fall of civilization is close behind. It seems we’ve all turned inward and in the process have forgotten there are other human beings on the other side of the insults we hurl or lies we tell that put a good man in jail. That’s where civility comes in.

A few weeks ago I did an interview for a newspaper in Missouri where my family lives. The interview was about the western books I’d written and the books I have coming out in the not too distant future. I had forgotten that the article was due to come out until I received a call from my grandmother. I wasn’t home when she phoned so she left a couple of messages on my answering machine. Both messages were about the fact that the article was on the front page of the newspaper and how hurt she was that I didn’t mention her. She was near tears when she said, “You must be so ashamed of me and the fact that I’m in a rest home.” She wasn’t happy for me or proud of me, just hurt that I didn’t mention her. My family put the “funk” in dysfunctional. The message did remind me of a few others my grandmother has left on my answering machine that are just as aggravating, but none the less comical. I thought I’d share. “Hello, Chris. Yeah, I don’t know if you heard the latest on the portable stereos, but they’re saying that the foam earpieces on the headphones is a prime breeding ground for bacteria. So if you’re walking around with headphones on, you may wanna take an antibiotic. Okay? Talk to you soon. Bye.” I’ll write more later. My phone is ringing now. It might be my grandmother.

I’m heading back to Arizona next week for a few book signings, one of which will be at Linda’s Old West Books in Tombstone. I’m looking forward to this trip because I’ll get to spend time with some of my favorite authors. These are the historic authors that have inspired me to keep going on. Jane Candia Coleman, Captain Glenn Boyer, and Ben Traywick are not just writers that tell great stories, but they are kind people. It’s going to be a blast hanging out with them and drinking in the history of Cochise County. I think a book about those three individuals would be a fascinating read. I hope to get a chance to talk with Gail Kelly Curtis today about her new book and all that she knows about Elizabeth and George Custer. I admire daring authors like her, people who know the hits they are going to take just putting their work out to the public. It’s very brave. I need to be around brave right now. It’s been a hard year thus far. Actually it’s been a hard life. My heart physically hurts. Too much trouble and loss in a short span of time.

And so another work week begins. I’m inspired this morning by the late producer Don Hewitt’s favorite expression, “Tell them a story.” I hope to do just that with the Elizabeth Custer book I’m working on. Hopefully I’ll be able to speak with George Custer’s descendant, Gail Kelly-Custer today. I believe the interview will provide a much needed balance to the story and am looking forward to speaking with her. Gail wrote a book about her famous heritage and has received a great deal of criticism by several self-proclaimed historians. I already like her just because of that. Someone once said, “Critics are like eunuchs in a harem; they know how it’s done, they’ve seen it done every day, but they’re unable to do it themselves.” In addition to the work I’ll be doing on the book about Libbie Custer, I’ll be working on a new book proposal about Nellie Bly. Bly was a fascinating journalist who went so far as to have herself committed to an asylum so she could write about the atrocities within the system. She had critics too and shot one of them in the arm for his constant barrage of negative comments. In a scenario that sounds all too familiar, her critic was expressing the feelings of an author friend of his who hoped to write about the same subject. Instead of writing their own book, they spent copious hours picking apart her work. Frustrated by the never ending harassment, she marched in to the bar where the critic worked serving drinks, ordered a beverage, and paid for her drink with a gunshot wound to the right shoulder. Unfortunately the critic lived. In other matters, we should find out something concrete about the production company involved with bringing Thunder Over the Prairie to the screen. I should have a definitive idea about where I’ll be moving next as well. That’s good. I do don’t well in limbo. I’m looking forward to my high school reunion in a couple of weeks in Southern Arizona. It should be fun getting reacquainted with people I shared the same bit of carpet with for three years. I’ll be working with a team of budding college attorneys on helping my brother. At the very least I’d like to get some teeth sent to him. Criminals and blackhearts run the institutions and family members are forced to watch the suffering. The corruption within the system goes unchecked. There’s very little I can do to help, but watch things get worse and plan for my brother’s ultimate funeral.

How bad can life be when my work day begins with a book signing in beautiful Lake Tahoe and ends with a meeting with Clint Black prior to his concert at the Gallo Center for the Arts in Modesto? Seems pretty good. I consider myself blessed, but not necessarily happy. I’m forever mindful that my brother is in jail, in harms way, and I am the one who persuaded him to take the plea. No matter what is going on in my life, I miss Rick and am painfully aware that he isn’t coming home. The beauty of Emerald Bay will be marred by the though of where he is and the memory of how he used to be. I’ll spend the drive praying not only for Rick, but for whatever problems I seem to continually cause at my church. Perhaps like many things in life you outlive your usefulness somewhere and it’s time to move on. I put in a lot of hours there and enjoy working on programs like Christmas in Bethlehem and the benevolence committee, but when the church leadership is less than thrilled with you , it’s time to go. I get beat up a lot in my professional and personal life I don’t have the strength to deal with another group of individuals who are disappointed in me too. Even at a church setting there seems to be a different set of rules for the average volunteer and those related to the ministerial staff. None of this takes away from the fact that Jesus Christ is Lord and Savior. I just don’t seem to fit anywhere and I’m so very tired of the battle and I’m lonely to the bone. On a lighter note, I’m going to have a chance to interview a descendant of General George Custer tomorrow for my book about Elizabeth Custer. That should prove to be very interesting. I’m grateful that Gail Kelly-Custer has consented to talk with my about her heritage. My publisher is also giving me a chance to submit a book proposal for one of the most heroic woman in history, Nellie Bly. I’d like to remove myself to a remote island where there are no critics and heartache and pour myself into my writing. Of course it wouldn’t hurt if Matt Damon were near by.

The research I continue to do on the book about Elizabeth Custer led me to a couple of people who used to be the directors of the Little Big Horn Museum. My talk with Nadya and Bill Henry about the famous General’s wife was interesting and filled with valuable information I can use in the new tome. The best thing about the conversation I had with the Henrys was their complete candor about the supposed affairs George Custer had and the romantic attraction Elizabeth had towards a soldier named Thomas Wier. We spoke about the so-called guardians of history who do not care so about being factually correct as much as they do being politically correct. According to the Henrys, the desire by so many outside intities to manipulate the truth about Custer’s Last Stand has transformed the sacred battleground into a “political football.” Nadya was a delightful woman who wasn’t afraid to speak her mind. She was refreshing and bold and I look forward to many more conversations with her on this subject. Looks like I’ll have a chance in the coming weeks to visit with one of my favorite authors Glenn Boyer. Maybe I’ll get at the correct number of men Wyatt Earp killed on his vendetta ride. (Earp historians differ wildly over the exact number) Glenn has written several books about Earp and I like his fearless style. His critics don’t seem to bother him – and they’ve been unkind and unfair. I wish I could be more like Glenn in the face of such unfairness. Perhaps I’ll learn how he deals with it all when I see him. Until then, I’ll be spending time with Elizabeth Custer and diligently striving to get all my facts correct. Those facts change depending how someone reads the various historical accounts and interprets them – that’s what makes history writing such an explosive venture. I have five books coming out over the next five years, each one just as controversial as the next. I’m in for quite a bumpy ride.

I began my work week reflecting on a conversation I had yesterday with one of my favorite authors, Jane Candia Coleman. Jane is a two time Spur Award winner and an exceptional writer of the Old West. It was a pleasure to speak with her about her work (Doc Holliday’s Woman, Tumbleweed, and Silver Queen just to name a few) and share with her how inspired I am by her talent. She encouraged me to keep writing regardless of the challenges and invited me to her home next month when I’m in Arizona. There’s a quote about encouragement that I keep near my desk. It’s by pastor and author William Arthur Ward. I dusted it off this morning to give it another read. “Flatter me, and I may not believe you. Criticize me, and I may not like you. Ignore me, and I may not forgive you. Encourage me, and I will not forget you. Love me and I may be forced to love you.” Life is exceptionally hard. We all need a boost from time to time, an encourager to help us through the rough patches. Jane Coleman was that for me. I hope to pay that kindness forward today. I’ll be writing about Elizabeth Custer and her efforts to preserve her husband’s memory. Should anyone want a copy of Thunder Over the Prairie I have two to give away today. Just drop my an email and let me know you’d like one. I’ll get it off to you.

There’s a very good possibility that I’ll be leaving the Grass Valley area in 2010. Maybe a change of scenery will help to shake things up in my life. I’ll miss my church family and friends, but I guess I’ve never been a cradle to grave kind of person. As an army brat I was always on the move. It seems natural to me. I’ve lived in Northern California longer than I’ve ever lived anywhere. The more books I work on the more isolated I become. I don’t think I’d mind the isolation living by the beach in Monterey. It’s something I always dreamed of doing anyway. I’m juggling two books right now and am going to begin a third next month. I’ve been putting the third title off for a while because I know it’s going to be emotionally difficult to put all that happened on paper, but it’s time. Who knows, maybe I’ll find this thing called “happy” everyone has told me so much about.

I felt well enough yesterday to make a pilgrimage to the library to review microfiche that had just come in from the Kansas State Historical Archives. One of the books I’m working on is about women journalists from the Old West and Carrie Nation is the current focus of study. Throughout the late 1800s and into the early 1900s, Carrie led a crusade against alcohol. She published a newspaper called The Smasher. She named the paper after one of her most violent crusading actions, smashing up barrels of liquor with an ax. She was dedicated to the idea that alcohol was the root of all evil. She was married twice and both husbands drank to excess. She took her intolerance of the beverage to the streets and saloons. She was arrested several times for her violent actions, but it never deterred her in the slightest. One of the sections in her newspaper was dedicated to the many letters she received. The letters were both in favor and against, what she stood for. She bravely ran all the letters from readers and drinkers who opposed her position that liquor was the “devil’s tonic.” The letters criticizing her behavior were published under the heading “From Hell”. The letters praising her bravery were published under the heading “From Heaven.” Whether or not you agree with what she did you have to admire her spunk and dedication to a cause. If Carrie Nation were alive today she would come face to face with a faction of the public who believe that alcoholism is disease and that some individuals need help with their problem. I have an uncle that falls into that category. I’m trying to trivialize the nightmare that is addiction. It’s a difficult thing when you start to notice that someone close to you has a drinking problem. You see little signs, like when they ask the waitress what wine goes with a grand slam breakfast. Or when they go to a liquor store and bring their own hand truck. Or when they walk up and down the bar pointing at people’s drinks, asking, “Are you gonna finish that?” I realize that some people get dealt a lousy genetic hand. I’m sure there are some physical predispositions to alcohol abuse – maybe lacking certain chemicals in your brain, maybe a problem with your metabolism, maybe just being a Kennedy. Many people go for decades without addressing their steadily worsening problem. Occasional cracks in their armor may leave them shaken but not stirred to action. Others, however, get tired of French-kissing the gutter drain and join Alcoholics Anonymous. I think that Alcoholics Anonymous is truly a wonderful, lifesaving organization, and Carrie Nation would have been proud of the group. Not everyone with a problem believes that AA is the solution. Some of my relatives are still in denial about their addition. Anyone in AA will tell you that first and foremost, you have to admit to having a problem. Here are some blurred signposts that might signal you’re weaving down the road to alcoholism. 1. If you walk out of the movie Leaving Las Vegas early because you’re thirsty. 2. If Boris Yeltsin asks you for your autograph. 3. If you have to paint the words “don’t panic, you’re at home” on the ceiling above your bed. There’s no doubt Carrie Nation was an extremist, but sometimes that’s what it takes to get someone’s attention.