Journal Notes

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The Lady and the Mountain Man:  Isabella Bird, Rocky Mountain Jim, and their Unlikely Friendship

A heavy snow blanketed the Hotel Interlaken in Switzerland in early September 1874.   The spectacular mountains surrounding the country’s oldest lodge were awash with light from a brilliant sun rising slowly over the peaks.  That same light tried desperately to break through the dark curtains covering the massive ornately designed windows of English sojourner Isabella Bird’s room.  The petite, forty-seven-year-old woman was reclining on a plush upholstered sofa.  She had fallen asleep, but it was a fitful sleep.  She tossed from side to side, mumbling and crying.

Suddenly Isabella awoke and sat up straight.  There, standing before her, was Jim Nugent, a broad, thickset man of medium height with golden, shoulder length hair that framed his handsome but scarred face.  The scars were the result of an altercation with a grizzly bear.  He was missing an eye, but the one that remained was blue gray.  He was smooth shaven except for a dense mustache.  Jim wore a low crown hat, fur-trimmed sack coat, and cloth breeches.  Isabella was taken aback by his presence in her room.  She knew it couldn’t be possible because Jim was in Colorado where she had left him more than seven months prior.  Their goodbye had been a tearful one with Jim vowing the pair would meet again.

Isabella couldn’t look away.  She was a bit frightened, but happy to see the man who had been such an important part of her life, and she almost smiled.  His eyes were fixed on her.  The pair watched one another for several moments before Jim slowly and distinctly announced to Isabella, “I have come as I promised.”  He then waved to her and said, “Farewell.”  Tears welled in Isabella’s eyes.  She’d missed Jim terribly, and their brief encounter wasn’t enough to satisfy her longing.

To learn more about Isabella Bird and Mountain Man Jim Nugent read

The Lady and the Mountain Man

Selling.  The very idea conjures up images of pushy, ruthless individuals peddling whole life policy insurance, Ginsu knives, or used cars – all committed to the same of objective.  “Get their confidence, get their friendship, get their trust, then get their money,” as Kurt Russell’s character in the film Used Cars instructed his salesforce.  It’s unfortunate that sales have that reputation because whether we’re employees pitching colleagues on a new idea, entrepreneurs enticing funders to invest, or parents and teacher cajoling children to study, we spend our days trying to move others.  Selling is a part of life.  If you’re a working author with hopes of staying a working author, it must be a part of your life, too.

Advertising what we have is not merely a human phenomenon, but a biological impulse found throughout the natural world.  Peacocks attract mates through a multicolored feather display, the puffer fish draws attention creating symmetrical patterns in the sand, and both the duck and gecko offer a broad range of attractively priced car-insurance packages.

The job of writing doesn’t end with creating a quality book.  The notion that a publisher has the sole responsibility for selling your book is antiquated.  Most publishers won’t set up book events for you, pay for print or digital ads, arrange for guest appearances on podcasts or regional morning news shows, have bookmarks or postcards made, and they won’t purchase billboard space to promote your newest title on Sunset Boulevard.  Believe me, I’ve asked.

Your publisher may send out a press release announcing the release of your book and send review copies.  They may make sure you have enough books on hand for a signing or pay for a poster to display at that signing.  Regardless of what they will do there are actions authors need to employ to make sure a book sells.

I’ve been writing about women in the Old West for more than twenty-eight years.  I’ve made the New York Times Bestseller list three times.  I’m sure there are some who will read that and think, “My stuff is much better than anything that big-haired woman has written.  I should be on that list.”  You might be right, but there’s more to it than just the material.  That’s where selling, and promotions come in.

The marketing tips I offer here are for all the authors who have emailed or phoned to ask the best way to sell their books during the pandemic.

Create an Email List

Having a website is not enough.  Without the contact information, nothing else will work.  Many publishers and agents will not take you on as a client unless you have a strong, targeted email list.  Having several thousand targeted ‘contacts’ of a particular demographic profile suggests that many will buy your book when it is released.  Without them, your website will not have the power to draw business.  Create a strong email list or avid readers, bookstores, and museums before spending your time on social media advertising.

Virtual Book Promotions

Once you have set the email list process in motion, ramp it up and attract more readers by creating free website content.  Examples include short newsletters, special reports, podcasts, and live video presentations.  Seek out organizations that are looking for speakers for their virtual programs.  Authors sell books when they make personal appearances, but it’s not impossible to sell books at virtual events.  Before you commit to giving a ZOOM or Google Meets presentation, ask the producer of the event if they would commit to purchasing a dozen of your books.

There are some authors who find the whole idea of peddling their product in such a way distasteful.  For them literature is not a #teamfollowback sport.  Those authors might be content with only selling a couple hundred copies of their book.  On the other hand, if you’re a writer like Kat Martin or Kathleen and Michael Gear readers come looking for you.  I’ve never personally experienced this and that’s why I employ a variety of marketing techniques to let buyers know my books are out there.

It’s a bit of work, but at least I’m selling something I feel strongly about, as opposed to Ginsu knives.

It’s a dog-eat-dog world and most of the time I feel like I’m wearing Milk-Bone underwear.

And then something like this happens.

No Place for a Woman:  The Struggle for Suffrage in the Wild West received two awards this past week.  The book was a finalist for Western Writers of America’s Stirrup Award and Foreword Review Magazine gave the title an Honorable Mention in their Book of the Year Award.  

True West Magazine gave Iron Women:  The Ladies Who Helped Build the Railroad a glowing review in the July/August 2021 edition of the publication!

Enter now to win a copy of More Tales Behind the Tombstones:

More Deaths and Burials of the Old West’s Most Nefarious Outlaws,

Notorious Women, and Celebrated Lawmen

“Now the nodding wild flow’rs may wither on the shore.  While her gentle fingers will cull them no more.  Oh! I sigh for Jeannie with the light brown hair.  Floating like a vapor, on the soft summer air—from “Jeannie with the Light Brown Hair” by Stephen Foster

Songwriter and composer Stephen Collins Foster was lying face down in a pool of his own blood when a housekeeper at a cheap New York boarding house found him on the morning of January 13, 1864. The man who had penned such popular tunes as “Oh! Susanna” and “Jeannie with the Light Brown Hair” collapsed from a fever while walking to a wash basin to get some water. He struck his head on the porcelain bowl and cut a large gash in his face and neck. He was taken to Bellevue Hospital where he was pronounced dead.

Stephen Foster was born on July 4, 1826, in Lawrenceville, Pennsylvania. He was the youngest of eleven children and from an early age displayed exceptional musical talent. At seven years old his parents gave him a flageolet, a sixteenth-century woodwind instrument. Within a short time, Stephen mastered the flute-like whistle and expanded his abilities to include harmonica, piano, and guitar. Although his talent captivated family and friends, he did not have a desire to perform. Stephen preferred to write and wanted to study music as a science.

In 1841, Stephen’s mother hired a tutor to teach her son the fundamentals of music as well as how to speak French and German. Stephen composed his first published song, entitled “Open Thy Lattice Love,” in 1842 at the age of seventeen. A short time later he moved to Cincinnati, Ohio, and took a job working for his brother as an accounting clerk. He wrote many more songs during this time, all of which were published, but the money he received for his work was next to nothing.

By 1850, he decided to abandon the accounting business and devote himself full-time to writing music. His gift for harmony and poetry led to the creation of such well-known tunes as “Camptown Races” and “My Old Kentucky Home.” During this time, he met Jane McDowell, the daughter of a physician from the Pittsburgh area. The two fell in love and were married on July 22, 1850. Stephen continued writing songs that were published and well received, but he realized very little financially for his music at the onset of his career because he allowed his work to be published without thought of compensation.  He earned $15,000 for the song “Old Folks at Home,” and many of his other tunes were equally as profitable.  Unfortunately, multiple publishers often printed their own competing editions of Stephen’s songs, paying him nothing and eroding any long-term monetary benefits.

Stephen’s struggles with managing his money and the loss of his parents as well as many of his siblings in a short time period proved more than he could bear. Consequently, he sought comfort in drinking. The alcohol soon became all-consuming and quickly became an issue in his marriage. Stephen became addicted and after numerous ultimatums and attempts to get him to stop drinking, Jane decided to take their daughter back to her parents’ home in Pittsburgh.

Stephen sank into a deep depression and continued drinking. He spent all his income on alcohol, and when he ran out of money, he sold his clothing to buy more to drink. He wore rags and went days without eating. His brothers and sister would step in to help, but Stephen would not and could not change. On Saturday evening, January 9, 1864, the thirty-seven-year-old man passed out in a drunken stupor in his hotel room. When he awoke, he was violently ill from liver failure and in his weakened condition he fell and hit his head.

Stephen’s wife Jane and one of his brothers came to the hospital to claim his body. Nurses gave his family his clothes along with 38 cents that were found in his pocket and a scrap of paper upon which he had written the words, “Dear Friends and Gentle Hearts.”

He was buried in Alleghany Cemetery in Pittsburgh, beside his mother. Upon his plain marble headstone is the simple inscription: “Stephen Foster of Pittsburgh. Born July 4, 1826. Died January 13, 1864.”

To learn more about the deaths of the legendary characters of the

Old West read More Tales Behind the Tombstones

Enter now to win a copy of

More Tales Behind the Tombstones:

More Deaths and Burials of the Old West’s Most Nefarious, Outlaws,

Notorious Women, and Celebrated Lawmen

Visitors walking through the graveyards often find themselves stepping over weeds that have grown around fallen headstones. Sadly, the final resting place for many small families and communities has been left unattended or even forgotten. The seasons have taken with them the names chiseled in the granite, nearly erasing all memory of those mourned beneath the dilapidated tombstones.

Aside from the normal life and death cycle in New England, it is estimated that one in every seventeen people died on the journey west from 1847 to 1900. Oftentimes the men, women, and children who died en route to the gold hills of California and Colorado, or the fertile farmlands of the Pacific Northwest, were buried on the spot where they died. A proper burial and lengthy funeral were forfeited in favor of pushing on to the far-off destination. Traveling across the plains demanded that sojourners be constantly on the move. The threat of bad weather, hostile Indians, wild animals, or desperados kept pioneers from staying too long in one area.

Contrary to popular belief, the thousands of settlers who perished on the trail west did not solely die in gunfights or Indian attacks. Scorching deserts, starvation, and dehydration claimed many lives. Poor sanitation bred typhoid, cholera, and pneumonia. Blood poisoning brought on by a cut or scrape from a sharp object, or shock from an accident, such as a wagon spilling over with travelers inside, brought about numerous deaths as well.

There were pioneers, though, who could not be persuaded to forgo a ceremonial funeral if they lost a loved one. Nothing could keep them from burying the deceased in a plot where they could be remembered. A section of ground in a scenic location with trees to shade the grave was the preferred spot. To leave someone dear in an unmarked plot was impossible for some to accept.

As pioneers established homesteads and built towns around their farms and ranches, the dead were buried either in family cemeteries near where they had lived or next to churches where they worshipped. For nineteenth-century ancestors, it was important to remember death. The fact of death served as a reminder to those who continued to persevere and do good works as preparation for a final judgment by a righteous God.

Whatever the cause of death or wherever it occurred, the need to take care of a deceased person’s remains was a necessity. Until the discovery of formaldehyde in 1867, and the subsequent introduction of the product and its use as an acceptable embalming method in America in 1872, there were limited ways to deal with the dead. Immediate burial was preferred. If a person died in the winter and the ground was frozen and a grave could not be dug, the body was stored in a barn or woodshed until the earth thawed and the departed could be buried.

As in the cities, carpenters in mining camps or cattle towns were usually the undertakers since they had the tools and supplies to build coffins. The wooden caskets might be lined with white linen if it was supplied by the deceased’s family or friends. Sextons, people who looked after a church and churchyard, would determine where in the cemetery a person was to be buried. They would also dig the grave and fill it again.

People who lived in small towns would often gather at the graveyard where the coffin was placed atop two sawhorses. For those who lived in less rural areas, there were hearses to rent to transport the dead from the undertaker’s office to the cemetery. The vehicle had glass sides and was decorated with elaborate carvings and brass ornaments. On top were tall, shako-like plumes, one on each corner.

While cemeteries house the dead, the tombstones record not only their pleasures, sorrows, and hopes for an afterlife, but also more than they realize of their history, ethnicity, and culture. In this book are true stories about thirty real people who are buried in marked and unmarked graves throughout the frontier and elsewhere. How these famous and infamous individuals lived and then exited this world is reflected on their headstones. Tales of their demise add details of their courage, adventure, hardship, and joy not included on those tombstones.

The dead included in the book More Tales Behind the Tombstones will never exhaust their potential to enlighten.

Enter to win More Tales Behind the Tombstones:

More Deaths and Burials of the Old West’s Most Nefarious, Outlaws,

Notorious Women, and Celebrated Lawmen

Iron Women:  The Ladies Who Helped Build the Railroad continues to do well. 

Released four months ago and the book is still in the top 20 new titles about the industry. 

To learn more about Iron Women and to enter now to win a copy of the book.

Irish Central ran a story about the book Iron Women and my Irish heritage.

I was honored to be included in the publication.

Click on the link below to read the complete article.

The untold story of the women who helped build the US railroads

“Iron Women: The Ladies Who Helped Build The Railroad” by Chris Enss celebrates the women who influenced the first transcontinental railroad in the 1860s.

IrishCentral Staff

@IrishCentral

https://www.irishcentral.com/roots/history/new-book-women-helped-build-railroad