AFTER SPENDING AN HOUR getting across the Mississippi at St. Louis and after spending last night in Collinsville, we decided to drive all the way home today. We did manage to stop in Homewood for a pizza at Aurelio's. We have driven the equivalent of more than 1/4 of the circumference of the globe, and we decided the Durango should spend some time in the pasture.
To paraphrase Huck Finn's comment about Twain's novel The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, I mostly told the truth in my posts, but there were some stretchers in there too. Because of a variety of problems with the blog I was using, I almost stopped posting a month ago. However, a friend from Streator, Illinois who creates and designs websites came to the rescue. http://hardscrabblehome.com She moved the entire contents of the blog to a much more user friendly blog. Thanks again Stephanie.
Carole didn't want to come home, but I promised her that we would take another western trip next year.
Friday, October 12, 2012
Thursday, October 11, 2012
October 10, 2012
WE SPENT MOST OF THE DAY in the Truman Library and Museum in Independence, about 15 miles south of our motel. Years ago, we spent some time in the Hoover Library in West Branch, Iowa and enjoyed the visit. Although we enjoyed our time at the Truman Library and Museum, I learned far more at the Hoover Library. Prior to our trip to West Branch, I knew very little about Hoover as president. I came away from West Branch with far more respect for him and his abilities..
In contrast to my knowledge of Hoover, I knew quite a bit about Truman long before our day at the Library/Museum. I had read biographies and/or autobiographies of most of main players on the stage when Truman was president: Truman, Marshall, Acheson, MacArthur, Stalin, etc. For anyone not familiar with Truman, the Library provides a wealth of information about the man and his times. Several movies, dozens of film clips and thousands of photos cover his life from his childhood through his retirement years. All of the high points of his presidency are covered: the decision to drop the A bombs, the Marshall Plan, the Berlin Airlift, the railway strike, the "whistle stop campaign" and the Cold War.
Compared to the poll-tested and nuanced statements of modern presidents, Truman's public statements were refreshingly straight forward. He did not need any "spin doctors;" people understood exactly what he meant when he spoke. When he referred to his opponents, he used adjectives such as "dinosaurs" and "reactionaries." During most of his presidency, he was at war with the Republicans and the future Republicans, the southern religious right wing. He angered his opponents by desegregating the military and by proposing anti-lynching laws, anti-discrimination laws, national health care, civil rights laws, stronger anti-trust laws, and higher taxes for the rich. Although a supporter of labor, he ended a national railroad strike by threatening to draft the striking workers and put them under military discipline. His firing of national icon MacArthur created a firestorm, but nearly every historian today agrees that his action in firing "the old soldier" was a correct one.
I had always been surprised by his Secretary of State Dean Acheson's admiration for Truman. Acheson was the epitome of an eastern snob intellectual: Groton, Yale, and Harvard. It would be hard to find someone with a background so different from Truman's. Acheson's book Present at the Creation is replete with examples of his condescending arrogance. At one point in his book, he ridiculed former Secretary of State Cordell Hull's speech impediment by quoting Hull phonetically. Yet, he worshiped Truman. After he eventually retired from a long career in politics, one of the networks ran a lengthy interview with Acheson. When he was asked why he so respected Truman, he gave two reasons, one professional and one personal. He explained that Truman was decisive. He would listen to his advisors and make a decision. After he made a decision, he took full responsibility for it. Unlike modern presidents, he never pointed a finger at others for "bad" advice.
Acheson's second reason for his respect for Truman was very personal to Acheson. He told the story of a time when he was involved in highly sensitive negotiations in Europe. While he was involved in those negotiations, his daughter was undergoing a serious operation. In a voice nearly breaking, Acheson said the following:
"During one period, . . . my younger daughter was very ill indeed and had a most serious operation, and it was not clear whether she would pull through. The President telephoned the hospital, where my wife was, got a report on my daughter's condition and telephoned me, when I was abroad, every day as to how that girl was. Well, this is the kind of person that one can adore. You have an affection for that man that nothing can touch."
Truman was never a popular president. He had the misfortune to follow one of the most popular presidents in American history. When he became president, he took aggressive positions on many issues which are still unpopular today: increasing the taxes on the rich, national health care, civil right's laws, etc. It wasn't until several decades after his presidency that historians began to reevaluate him and conclude that he was a very good, perhaps great president. One of the first people I remember who suggested that Truman would one day be considered great was the guy who was the best man at our wedding. Now a retired history professor, I wouldn't be surprised if he ends up writing about Truman.
There was nothing in Truman's background which hinted at his future. He failed in several business pursuits and had very little formal education. He owed his entry into politics to a corrupt machine boss. When I reflect on Truman, I recall Woodrow Wilson's comments at the dedication of a national park at Hodgenville, Kentucky, Lincoln's birthplace.
"This is the sacred mystery of democracy, that its richest fruits spring up out of soils which no man has prepared and in circumstances amidst which they are the least expected."
In contrast to my knowledge of Hoover, I knew quite a bit about Truman long before our day at the Library/Museum. I had read biographies and/or autobiographies of most of main players on the stage when Truman was president: Truman, Marshall, Acheson, MacArthur, Stalin, etc. For anyone not familiar with Truman, the Library provides a wealth of information about the man and his times. Several movies, dozens of film clips and thousands of photos cover his life from his childhood through his retirement years. All of the high points of his presidency are covered: the decision to drop the A bombs, the Marshall Plan, the Berlin Airlift, the railway strike, the "whistle stop campaign" and the Cold War.
Compared to the poll-tested and nuanced statements of modern presidents, Truman's public statements were refreshingly straight forward. He did not need any "spin doctors;" people understood exactly what he meant when he spoke. When he referred to his opponents, he used adjectives such as "dinosaurs" and "reactionaries." During most of his presidency, he was at war with the Republicans and the future Republicans, the southern religious right wing. He angered his opponents by desegregating the military and by proposing anti-lynching laws, anti-discrimination laws, national health care, civil rights laws, stronger anti-trust laws, and higher taxes for the rich. Although a supporter of labor, he ended a national railroad strike by threatening to draft the striking workers and put them under military discipline. His firing of national icon MacArthur created a firestorm, but nearly every historian today agrees that his action in firing "the old soldier" was a correct one.
Acheson's second reason for his respect for Truman was very personal to Acheson. He told the story of a time when he was involved in highly sensitive negotiations in Europe. While he was involved in those negotiations, his daughter was undergoing a serious operation. In a voice nearly breaking, Acheson said the following:
"During one period, . . . my younger daughter was very ill indeed and had a most serious operation, and it was not clear whether she would pull through. The President telephoned the hospital, where my wife was, got a report on my daughter's condition and telephoned me, when I was abroad, every day as to how that girl was. Well, this is the kind of person that one can adore. You have an affection for that man that nothing can touch."
Truman was never a popular president. He had the misfortune to follow one of the most popular presidents in American history. When he became president, he took aggressive positions on many issues which are still unpopular today: increasing the taxes on the rich, national health care, civil right's laws, etc. It wasn't until several decades after his presidency that historians began to reevaluate him and conclude that he was a very good, perhaps great president. One of the first people I remember who suggested that Truman would one day be considered great was the guy who was the best man at our wedding. Now a retired history professor, I wouldn't be surprised if he ends up writing about Truman.
There was nothing in Truman's background which hinted at his future. He failed in several business pursuits and had very little formal education. He owed his entry into politics to a corrupt machine boss. When I reflect on Truman, I recall Woodrow Wilson's comments at the dedication of a national park at Hodgenville, Kentucky, Lincoln's birthplace.
"This is the sacred mystery of democracy, that its richest fruits spring up out of soils which no man has prepared and in circumstances amidst which they are the least expected."
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
October 9, 2012
AT LONG LAST, Carole got to see a "real" fort, complete with blockhouses, a big gate, cannons, a garden, a store and quarters for the soldiers. Fort Osage, a re-creation of a fort originally constructed for trade with the Indians in 1809, is located about 20 miles southeast of Kansas City. Noting the site's commanding view of the Missouri River, Lewis and Clark had chosen the location for a possible fort five years before it was built. When the fort was recreated in 1962, the original plans were followed where possible.
The store, located just outside of the fort, was originally built for trade with the area Indians, the Osage. A woman volunteer, dressed in 1808 era clothes detailed the trading system used with the Indians and explained the purpose of the goods for sale in the store. There were two rooms below the main floor. One room was used for curing the beaver pelts the Indians brought to the fort. The second room was used for storage.
When we entered the interior of the fort, we ran into a local school teacher, a heavier version of Falstaff, who was supposed to be a guide. To put it kindly, his knowledge of history was pathetic. In the first several minutes of his introductory blather, he managed to convey more incorrect information than I deemed possible. His opening comment was that the Osage Indians averaged around 6 feet three in height, and that some of them were seven feet tall. I sat through this nonsense like a typical grinning tourist. He then said that John Adams was anti-business and that Jefferson was pro-business. I again remained silent. When he said that Adams wanted the country to be be run by a monarchy, I interjected: "You are confusing Hamilton with Adams." He responded by saying: "No, Adams wanted a king. He had spent years as an ambassador to England and had become impressed with the monarchy." At that point, I realized that it would have been futile to explain that Adams had never been an ambassador to England and that as a New Englander he was certainly not "anti-business." Reluctantly reverting yet again to my kinder, gentler Indiana personality, I simply walked away and looked around the fort.
While I was able to escape the guide/interpreter, Carole was not able to evade him. He even followed her out of the fort into the store. Convinced that she was a teacher, he wanted to give her some materials for her classes. After about fifteen minutes, I rescued her; and we headed back to Kansas City.
The store, located just outside of the fort, was originally built for trade with the area Indians, the Osage. A woman volunteer, dressed in 1808 era clothes detailed the trading system used with the Indians and explained the purpose of the goods for sale in the store. There were two rooms below the main floor. One room was used for curing the beaver pelts the Indians brought to the fort. The second room was used for storage.
When we entered the interior of the fort, we ran into a local school teacher, a heavier version of Falstaff, who was supposed to be a guide. To put it kindly, his knowledge of history was pathetic. In the first several minutes of his introductory blather, he managed to convey more incorrect information than I deemed possible. His opening comment was that the Osage Indians averaged around 6 feet three in height, and that some of them were seven feet tall. I sat through this nonsense like a typical grinning tourist. He then said that John Adams was anti-business and that Jefferson was pro-business. I again remained silent. When he said that Adams wanted the country to be be run by a monarchy, I interjected: "You are confusing Hamilton with Adams." He responded by saying: "No, Adams wanted a king. He had spent years as an ambassador to England and had become impressed with the monarchy." At that point, I realized that it would have been futile to explain that Adams had never been an ambassador to England and that as a New Englander he was certainly not "anti-business." Reluctantly reverting yet again to my kinder, gentler Indiana personality, I simply walked away and looked around the fort.
While I was able to escape the guide/interpreter, Carole was not able to evade him. He even followed her out of the fort into the store. Convinced that she was a teacher, he wanted to give her some materials for her classes. After about fifteen minutes, I rescued her; and we headed back to Kansas City.
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
October 8, 2012
CAROLE FINALLY GOT HER WISH. We visited a fort today. After our visit, however, she concluded that Fort Riley, a military base, was not really a fort. I think she wants to see one of those old log forts with the huge swinging doors which are in the old cavalry movies. I have to admit that Ft. Riley did not look like an old cavalry fort. It looked as empty as Fort Zinderneuf in the opening scene of Beau Geste. We drove all over the base and saw only three soldiers; two men at the entrance gate and one man jogging. Of course, the other soldiers may have been "training" somewhere else in the 100,000 plus acres of the base.
We were pleased to see that the three soldiers we did meet were very polite.Years ago, when we were crossing the border from Bavaria to Austria, we had a very different experience with German soldiers. I thought that the German border guard had told us to proceed, and I started to drive into Austria when I heard a loud "HALT." Having heard and seen German border guards yell "halt" in numerous movies, I slammed on my brakes and threw my arms in the air. Whatever the issue was, he let us proceed.
We wanted to see one of several museums on the base, either the one devoted to the Big Red One or the one devoted to the history of the cavalry. We drove all over the place until a jogging soldier pointed us in the direction of the cavalry museum. There was a statue of a rider-less horse in front of the place, and I told Carole that it must be Comanche, the most famous cavalry horse in American history.
I was surprised to see that the statue was of an anonymous horse. The only place in the entire museum where Comanche was given even token recognition was by a small statue in the bottom row of an exhibit.
After the battle of Little Big Horn, Comanche, Miles Keogh's horse, was found alive and wounded among Custer's dead cavalry men. Comanche became a national hero during the remaining years of his life, and when he died he was stuffed and displayed at the Columbian Exhibition in Chicago. Today, his stuffed remains are on display at the University of Kansas' Natural History Museum.
Apart from the slight against Comanche, the small museum was interesting, tracing the U.S. Cavalry from its beginnings to its end in the 1930s. Thankfully, we did not have to listen a recording of Garry Owen, the official theme song of Custer's 7th Cavalry.
We drove as far as Kansas City, Missouri, a town noted for its ribs. I had a full slab at a place by our motel and was not impressed. Admittedly, I did not go to one of the famous rib joints in Kansas City. Maybe we will try some ribs at one of the more famous restaurants tomorrow. To be sure, we will have to find Carole a fort.
We were pleased to see that the three soldiers we did meet were very polite.Years ago, when we were crossing the border from Bavaria to Austria, we had a very different experience with German soldiers. I thought that the German border guard had told us to proceed, and I started to drive into Austria when I heard a loud "HALT." Having heard and seen German border guards yell "halt" in numerous movies, I slammed on my brakes and threw my arms in the air. Whatever the issue was, he let us proceed.
We wanted to see one of several museums on the base, either the one devoted to the Big Red One or the one devoted to the history of the cavalry. We drove all over the place until a jogging soldier pointed us in the direction of the cavalry museum. There was a statue of a rider-less horse in front of the place, and I told Carole that it must be Comanche, the most famous cavalry horse in American history.
I was surprised to see that the statue was of an anonymous horse. The only place in the entire museum where Comanche was given even token recognition was by a small statue in the bottom row of an exhibit.
 |
After the battle of Little Big Horn, Comanche, Miles Keogh's horse, was found alive and wounded among Custer's dead cavalry men. Comanche became a national hero during the remaining years of his life, and when he died he was stuffed and displayed at the Columbian Exhibition in Chicago. Today, his stuffed remains are on display at the University of Kansas' Natural History Museum.
Apart from the slight against Comanche, the small museum was interesting, tracing the U.S. Cavalry from its beginnings to its end in the 1930s. Thankfully, we did not have to listen a recording of Garry Owen, the official theme song of Custer's 7th Cavalry.
We drove as far as Kansas City, Missouri, a town noted for its ribs. I had a full slab at a place by our motel and was not impressed. Admittedly, I did not go to one of the famous rib joints in Kansas City. Maybe we will try some ribs at one of the more famous restaurants tomorrow. To be sure, we will have to find Carole a fort.
Monday, October 8, 2012
October 7, 2012
I RECEIVED A SHOCK THIS MORNING, and it took most of the day for me to recover from it. As usual, I went down early to partake of the motel's free breakfast; and as usual, I pampered Carole by bringing a tray of food back to her. As I approached our room, I realized that I wasn't sure which room was ours. When I stood in front of the door I that concluded was our room, a helpful employee decided to unlock and open the door for me. When I entered the room, I saw an old, haggard woman sitting in a chair near the bed. Reacting much like W.C. Fields did in My Little Chickadee when he discovered a goat in his bed instead of Mae West, I quickly apologized and made a quick exist. It could have been worse; she might have been naked. I am not sure that I could have handled that scene.
Carole also received a shock later in the day. We located a sport's bar in Hays, Kansas to watch her beloved Packers play the Colts. While the Packers looked great in the first half, they folded in the second half. Carole was so upset that she had a third Coke, and we didn't go out for dinner.
I'm not sure what we will do today. There is a fort near us, and we may go see it.. When Carole was planning our trip, she wanted to make a detour somewhere in Wyoming to see a fort. I talked her out of it, telling her: "We are going to be in the West; there will be an old fort every couple of miles." Because we haven't seen a single sign for a fort during the 6,000 plus miles we have covered so far, I guess that we had better see this one.
Carole also received a shock later in the day. We located a sport's bar in Hays, Kansas to watch her beloved Packers play the Colts. While the Packers looked great in the first half, they folded in the second half. Carole was so upset that she had a third Coke, and we didn't go out for dinner.
I'm not sure what we will do today. There is a fort near us, and we may go see it.. When Carole was planning our trip, she wanted to make a detour somewhere in Wyoming to see a fort. I talked her out of it, telling her: "We are going to be in the West; there will be an old fort every couple of miles." Because we haven't seen a single sign for a fort during the 6,000 plus miles we have covered so far, I guess that we had better see this one.
Saturday, October 6, 2012
October 6, 2012
UP UNTIL TODAY, we have had incredible weather on our
trip. I don’t think we have had any rain
for the last month. When we got up this
morning, however, it was cold and raining. Moreover, the weather predictions for the areas north of us were for
more rain and increasing cold.
Reluctantly, we decided to head east. Although we have had a great trip, I have had
one major disappointment: my inability
to find a rattlesnake. Originally, I was
looking for a big Western Diamondback; but I reached the point where I would
have settled for even a dinky little Prairie Rattler.
I don’t’ know why I
have had such bad luck finding a rattler. Our
daughter’s mother-in-law found one without even trying. A few years ago, she was hiking in the
mountains in California with a couple of female friends when one of her friends
not only found a rattlesnake, but was bitten by one. (For purposes of anonymity, we will call the
mother-in-law “Barbara.”) The friend had
a very bad reaction to the snake bite, and Barbara quickly drove her to the
closest emergency room.When she told the doctor on duty that her friend had
been bitten by a rattlesnake, the doctor
responded with a patronizing look familiar to most women and in a condescending tone of voice
also familiar to most women: “Are you
sure it was a rattlesnake?” Because
Barbara had been a highly successful businesswoman in a “man’s world” for a
number of years, she was prepared for the doctor’s attitude. She reached into a sack she was carrying and
extracted the dead rattlesnake. The
doctor replied, “Yep, that’s a rattler.”
He then successfully treated the woman and left her with a great story
she can tell for years. Some people are
just lucky.
After leaving Colorado City, we drove through the rain as far Colby, Kansas. The big attraction in Colby is a barn; not just any barn, but the biggest barn in the state. It is so big that it is listed as one of the Eight Wonders of Kansas!
My knowledge of Kansas is limited and more historical than contemporary in nature: Wild Bill and Ike in Abilene, John Brown’s massacres, Gayle Sayers, William Allan White and his Gazette, Clyde Tombaugh at Lowell and Quantrill’s Raiders. I do know that Kansas does not even have the Kansas City with the good ribs; that City is in Missouri.Carole picked up some brochures to see what we might see or do while we are in Kansas. Hopefully, she will find something of interest.
Friday, October 5, 2012
October 4-5, 2012
YESTERDAY, WE ARRIVED IN COLORADO SPRINGS, home of the Air Force Academy and
the U.S. Olympic Training Facility. However, we didn't come here to see
either of those places. We came to Colorado Springs because of nearby Pike's
Peak. Although we have been in high altitudes for the last month, the
places where we have been would be considered mere foothills in Colorado. With
54 peaks higher than 14,000 feet, Colorado leads the United States in
"fourteeners." Pikes Peak is 14,100 feet in altitude,
which places it 34th on the list of mountains over 14,000 feet high in the
state. Despite its lowly ranking among Colorado's fourteeners, it is the most
visited mountain in the United States.
Today, as planned, we drove to the base of the mountain. There are three methods travelers use to ascend Pike's Peak. Two of those methods we rejected out of hand. We had no intention of hiking up over 14,000 feet, and the 19 mile drive up the mountain with nearly 80 hair-pin switchbacks was not appealing. As a result, we chose the third method of reaching the top of the mountain: taking the old cog wheel train. We had never been on a cog wheel train before. In fact, I had no idea what "cog wheel" meant. In addition to the wheels all trains possess, a cog wheel train has a track running beneath the train which has cogs designed to mesh with cogs in the middle of the track. Because of the cogs, such a train is able to go up extremely steep inclines, even steeper than our driveway at home.
Boarding the train in late morning, we took the hour and 15 minute trip to the top. At one point, the train chugged up a 25 degree incline for a full mile. During our ride, we saw waterfalls, massive granite boulders and deep valleys. One spot, Wind Point, is so named because the winds can whip through this tree-less area at up to 160 miles an hour.
After reaching the top, we nearly froze when we got off of the train. On a clear day, you can see three hundred miles from the top of the mountain; but this was not a clear day. When we looked down, we saw only clouds; they looked more like snow banks than clouds. Every once in a while, there would be a slight break in the clouds and we could see "lesser" mountains below. It was so cold and windy that we spent only a short time peering down the mountain.
About 45 minutes was allotted at the top, and the conductor warned everyone at least three times that the train would head down the mountain at exactly 12:40 pm. Because of an experience we had years ago in Germany, we were on the train before 12:40 pm. When we were In Germany, we decided to take the kids to see Hitler's Eagle's Nest, located above Berchtesgaden. The only way up the mountain to Eagle's Nest was by bus, and we learned that day that Germans are hyper-punctual. We missed the bus by minutes, and decided to walk the five miles to the bottom. To make sure that our daughters did not get bored, I had them chant: "One two three four; we won the Second World War." It was a good time, but we were sore for a week.
Our day was not over when we reached the bottom of Pike's Peak. Carole had discovered that there were Anasazi ruins nearby, and we drove to the site of those ruins. It certainly beat Mesa Verdi. Instead of a tortuous drive up a mountain and a long drive from the top to reach the ruins, we were able to simply pull off the highway a quarter of a mile and drive right up to the Anasazi ruins. I quickly concluded that all Anasazi houses must look pretty much the same. The houses we saw looked exactly like ones I had seen in movies and books. I did a quick ten minute review of the old houses, and headed to the warmth of the little museum near the houses. As usual, Carole studied the site much more thoroughly than I did.
Today, as planned, we drove to the base of the mountain. There are three methods travelers use to ascend Pike's Peak. Two of those methods we rejected out of hand. We had no intention of hiking up over 14,000 feet, and the 19 mile drive up the mountain with nearly 80 hair-pin switchbacks was not appealing. As a result, we chose the third method of reaching the top of the mountain: taking the old cog wheel train. We had never been on a cog wheel train before. In fact, I had no idea what "cog wheel" meant. In addition to the wheels all trains possess, a cog wheel train has a track running beneath the train which has cogs designed to mesh with cogs in the middle of the track. Because of the cogs, such a train is able to go up extremely steep inclines, even steeper than our driveway at home.
Boarding the train in late morning, we took the hour and 15 minute trip to the top. At one point, the train chugged up a 25 degree incline for a full mile. During our ride, we saw waterfalls, massive granite boulders and deep valleys. One spot, Wind Point, is so named because the winds can whip through this tree-less area at up to 160 miles an hour.
After reaching the top, we nearly froze when we got off of the train. On a clear day, you can see three hundred miles from the top of the mountain; but this was not a clear day. When we looked down, we saw only clouds; they looked more like snow banks than clouds. Every once in a while, there would be a slight break in the clouds and we could see "lesser" mountains below. It was so cold and windy that we spent only a short time peering down the mountain.
About 45 minutes was allotted at the top, and the conductor warned everyone at least three times that the train would head down the mountain at exactly 12:40 pm. Because of an experience we had years ago in Germany, we were on the train before 12:40 pm. When we were In Germany, we decided to take the kids to see Hitler's Eagle's Nest, located above Berchtesgaden. The only way up the mountain to Eagle's Nest was by bus, and we learned that day that Germans are hyper-punctual. We missed the bus by minutes, and decided to walk the five miles to the bottom. To make sure that our daughters did not get bored, I had them chant: "One two three four; we won the Second World War." It was a good time, but we were sore for a week.
Our day was not over when we reached the bottom of Pike's Peak. Carole had discovered that there were Anasazi ruins nearby, and we drove to the site of those ruins. It certainly beat Mesa Verdi. Instead of a tortuous drive up a mountain and a long drive from the top to reach the ruins, we were able to simply pull off the highway a quarter of a mile and drive right up to the Anasazi ruins. I quickly concluded that all Anasazi houses must look pretty much the same. The houses we saw looked exactly like ones I had seen in movies and books. I did a quick ten minute review of the old houses, and headed to the warmth of the little museum near the houses. As usual, Carole studied the site much more thoroughly than I did.
Thursday, October 4, 2012
October 3, 2012
OUR DRIVE THROUGH SOUTHERN COLORADO from Cortez to Alamosa was easily the most beautiful drive we have taken on our trip. The Aspens are beginning to change colors, and their yellow intermingled among the Spruce made an interesting contrast.
We stopped briefly at the Bruce Spruce Ranch, a place our daughter and her husband had stayed last year. Although we had planned to stay there tomorrow night, our change in plans meant that we would have to cancel our reservation. Since we were driving right by the ranch, we decided to cancel in person. When we saw the ranch, we were sorry we had to cancel.
It looks like we are finally getting out of Indian Country. Ever since we hit South Dakota, we have been constantly reminded of the hundreds of movies and TV shows we have seen over the years dealing with the Indians west of the Mississippi. For people who have never read any history, it must appear that the only Indian wars were those west of the Mississippi. Those people would be surprised to learn that more Whites were killed by Indians east of the Mississippi than in all of the massacres and Indian wars west of the Mississippi.
Throughout the 1600s and into the early 1800s, people in the East were often at war with a number of different Indian tribes, including the Iroquois (later the Iroquois Confederation) and the Shawnee. In Pennsylvania alone there was the French and Indian War, Pontiac's War, Lord Dunmore's War, the Revolutionary War, and the Indian uprising from 1789 to 1795. My Scots-Irish ancestors in Pennsylvania gave as good as they got. The gentle Quakers who ran the state were shocked at reports of Scots-Irish scalping Indians and perpetrating massacres of Indian villages. You won't find many movies on this chapter of American history. John Ford's classic Drums along the Mohawk is one of the few films dealing with an Indian war east of the Mississippi.
Why has Hollywood ignored the eastern Indians and their numerous killings and massacres?
I have always blamed James Fenimore Cooper for Hollywood's avoidance of such savage Indians as the Iroquois and the Mohawk. Like every kid who has attended high school, Hollywood directors and producers were forced to read one or more of Cooper's turgid Leatherstocking Tales, and probably remembered how boring those stories were. Cooper was popular in his day solely because he was the only person writing about frontiersmen and Indians: "In the country of the blind, the one-eyed man is king."
In the fullness of time, people began to recognize the short-comings of Cooper's novels. In 1895, Mark Twain published his famous essay on one of Cooper's books. Twain asserted that Cooper's popular The Deerslayer, a Leatherstocking tale, committed 114 "offenses against literary art out of a possible 115."
Hollywood should at least have made a movie about the charismatic Tecumseh. Uniting a number of Indian tribes in the early 1800s, he fought the Americans for years. When he was killed at the Battle of Thames in Canada, his united movement collapsed. Tecumseh remains the only person, White or Indian, responsible for two different political campaign slogans at the National level. In 1836, Richard Johnson, the man who supposedly killed Tecumseh, campaigned for Vice-President with the sadly forgotten campaign slogan "Rumpsey Dumpsey, Rumpsey Dumpsey, Colonel Johnson Killed Tecumseh." Four years later, William Henry Harrison, who defeated a band of Tecumseh's supporters at Tippecanoe, Indiana, ran for president using the slogan "Tippecanoe and Tyler Too." History is so unfair, not a single movie about Tecumseh.
We stopped briefly at the Bruce Spruce Ranch, a place our daughter and her husband had stayed last year. Although we had planned to stay there tomorrow night, our change in plans meant that we would have to cancel our reservation. Since we were driving right by the ranch, we decided to cancel in person. When we saw the ranch, we were sorry we had to cancel.
It looks like we are finally getting out of Indian Country. Ever since we hit South Dakota, we have been constantly reminded of the hundreds of movies and TV shows we have seen over the years dealing with the Indians west of the Mississippi. For people who have never read any history, it must appear that the only Indian wars were those west of the Mississippi. Those people would be surprised to learn that more Whites were killed by Indians east of the Mississippi than in all of the massacres and Indian wars west of the Mississippi.
Throughout the 1600s and into the early 1800s, people in the East were often at war with a number of different Indian tribes, including the Iroquois (later the Iroquois Confederation) and the Shawnee. In Pennsylvania alone there was the French and Indian War, Pontiac's War, Lord Dunmore's War, the Revolutionary War, and the Indian uprising from 1789 to 1795. My Scots-Irish ancestors in Pennsylvania gave as good as they got. The gentle Quakers who ran the state were shocked at reports of Scots-Irish scalping Indians and perpetrating massacres of Indian villages. You won't find many movies on this chapter of American history. John Ford's classic Drums along the Mohawk is one of the few films dealing with an Indian war east of the Mississippi.
Why has Hollywood ignored the eastern Indians and their numerous killings and massacres?
I have always blamed James Fenimore Cooper for Hollywood's avoidance of such savage Indians as the Iroquois and the Mohawk. Like every kid who has attended high school, Hollywood directors and producers were forced to read one or more of Cooper's turgid Leatherstocking Tales, and probably remembered how boring those stories were. Cooper was popular in his day solely because he was the only person writing about frontiersmen and Indians: "In the country of the blind, the one-eyed man is king."
In the fullness of time, people began to recognize the short-comings of Cooper's novels. In 1895, Mark Twain published his famous essay on one of Cooper's books. Twain asserted that Cooper's popular The Deerslayer, a Leatherstocking tale, committed 114 "offenses against literary art out of a possible 115."
Hollywood should at least have made a movie about the charismatic Tecumseh. Uniting a number of Indian tribes in the early 1800s, he fought the Americans for years. When he was killed at the Battle of Thames in Canada, his united movement collapsed. Tecumseh remains the only person, White or Indian, responsible for two different political campaign slogans at the National level. In 1836, Richard Johnson, the man who supposedly killed Tecumseh, campaigned for Vice-President with the sadly forgotten campaign slogan "Rumpsey Dumpsey, Rumpsey Dumpsey, Colonel Johnson Killed Tecumseh." Four years later, William Henry Harrison, who defeated a band of Tecumseh's supporters at Tippecanoe, Indiana, ran for president using the slogan "Tippecanoe and Tyler Too." History is so unfair, not a single movie about Tecumseh.
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
October 2, 2012
WE HAD PLANNED TO GO TO MESA VERDI TODAY to see the ancient Anasazi ruins. The Anasazi lived in the Four Corners area around 2000 years ago, and not much is known about them. Actually, the political correctness boys have substituted the word "Puebloans" for Anasazi. After using the term Anasazi for over a hundred years, archeologists discovered that the word meant either "ancient enemies" or "ancient strangers." Supposedly, the Pueblo Indians find the word Anasazi to be offensive. I suppose it is something like the Indians versus Native Americans issue. Ironically, everywhere we have been in the West, Indians call themselves Indians. I suppose I will have to ask a Pueblo how he or she feels about the word Anasazi.
When we began to look into what was involved in visiting the Mesa Verde park, we found that we would have to drive 21 miles after we drove up a steep, narrow and winding road to see the first Anasazi dwelling. Once we got there, we would be able to see inside the dwelling by climbing a steep ladder. I convinced Carole that today should be a day of rest.
Part of the day was occupied with determining where we would go next. When Carole mentioned New Mexico, I balked. On any other trip, I would have readily agreed to visit New Mexico. So far on this trip, however, we have been bombarded with photos, posters and books about some of the West's so-called real bad boys. Most of these bad boys killed at most only one or two people. I knew that if we went to New Mexico, we would end up hearing and seeing way too much about Billy the Kid, another guy who does not deserve his reputation. Although almost every sentient human being thinks that they know all about Billy, most of what people have "learned" about him through movies or TV is dead wrong. For years, he was referred to as the "left-handed gun." In fact, Paul Newman portrayed him in a movie entitled "The Left-Handed Gun. Everyone "knew" he was left handed because of a an old tin-type photo which shows him to be left handed. Eventually, some unknown photographer explained that tin-types produced a mirror image. Today, at least, the image has been reversed to show that he was right-handed.
Even more galling is that books and movies have repeated the canard that he killed 21 men before he was 21 years old. In recent years, historians have concluded that he only killed between 3 and 5 men.
Compare Billy with John Wesley Hardin, a man who historians agree killed somewhere between 30 and 40 men. A real bad dude, he once killed a man for snoring. Having compiled such a bloody record, one would assume his name would be far more familiar than Billy the Kid. Yet, were it not for Bob Dylan's John Wesley Harding album, he would be a forgotten man today. History can be so unfair. Dylan spelled John Wesley's last name as "Harding," but Bob's heart was in the right place.
Carole relented on New Mexico, and we decided to drive east until we could find a road which would take us to northern Colorado.
When we began to look into what was involved in visiting the Mesa Verde park, we found that we would have to drive 21 miles after we drove up a steep, narrow and winding road to see the first Anasazi dwelling. Once we got there, we would be able to see inside the dwelling by climbing a steep ladder. I convinced Carole that today should be a day of rest.
Part of the day was occupied with determining where we would go next. When Carole mentioned New Mexico, I balked. On any other trip, I would have readily agreed to visit New Mexico. So far on this trip, however, we have been bombarded with photos, posters and books about some of the West's so-called real bad boys. Most of these bad boys killed at most only one or two people. I knew that if we went to New Mexico, we would end up hearing and seeing way too much about Billy the Kid, another guy who does not deserve his reputation. Although almost every sentient human being thinks that they know all about Billy, most of what people have "learned" about him through movies or TV is dead wrong. For years, he was referred to as the "left-handed gun." In fact, Paul Newman portrayed him in a movie entitled "The Left-Handed Gun. Everyone "knew" he was left handed because of a an old tin-type photo which shows him to be left handed. Eventually, some unknown photographer explained that tin-types produced a mirror image. Today, at least, the image has been reversed to show that he was right-handed.
Even more galling is that books and movies have repeated the canard that he killed 21 men before he was 21 years old. In recent years, historians have concluded that he only killed between 3 and 5 men.
Compare Billy with John Wesley Hardin, a man who historians agree killed somewhere between 30 and 40 men. A real bad dude, he once killed a man for snoring. Having compiled such a bloody record, one would assume his name would be far more familiar than Billy the Kid. Yet, were it not for Bob Dylan's John Wesley Harding album, he would be a forgotten man today. History can be so unfair. Dylan spelled John Wesley's last name as "Harding," but Bob's heart was in the right place.
Carole relented on New Mexico, and we decided to drive east until we could find a road which would take us to northern Colorado.
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
October 1, 2012
CAROLE AND I HAVE LONG BEEN FANS OF JOHN FORD, particularly his westerns. Today, we drove through Monument Valley where he filmed seven of his most famous westerns, including Stagecoach and She Wore a Yellow Ribbon. Monument Valley is located in both Arizona and Utah, near the Four Corners. John Ford's first western shot in the valley was Stagecoach, a film that made John Wayne famous and won two Oscars. When Wayne saw the valley for the first time, he supposedly said: "So this is where God decided to locate the West."
Monument Valley is not a national park, but is owned and run by the Navajo. After paying a nominal ten dollar entrance fee, we proceeded to the visitors' center to obtain a map for a self-guided tour. We had done our homework and knew that there was a 17 mile drive along a rough, unpaved road which made a loop through the valley. Many visitors prefer to hire someone to drive them through the valley, but we trusted the Durango to take us through.
On our way to obtain a map, we found ourselves in a room dedicated to the famous Code Talkers of WWII. The contents of the room were interesting. In addition to information about the Code Talkers, the room displayed a brief history of WWII. Starting with the "sneak attack" on Pearl Harbor and ending with the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the various signs and photos gave a brief summary of the war and showed how the Code Talkers were first formed and how they operated.
It was difficult to concentrate in the room, however. A large, obnoxious group of foreigners decided to use the room to yell at each other. For some reason, they showed little interest in the information displayed in the room. When they left, I said to Carole: " You would think that they would have had some interest in learning why they were not able to break the code."
After we obtained the map, we took off on our drive. The speed limit was 15 miles an hour, but the road was so bad that we only got up to 15 miles an hour for short stretches. As we anticipated, the views were incredible.
I could picture Ben Johnson racing his horse Laddie away from pursuing Indians in She Wore a Yellow Ribbon. It was somewhat more difficult picturing John Wayne riding through the valley in The Searchers, a movie supposedly set in Texas.
Monument Valley is not a national park, but is owned and run by the Navajo. After paying a nominal ten dollar entrance fee, we proceeded to the visitors' center to obtain a map for a self-guided tour. We had done our homework and knew that there was a 17 mile drive along a rough, unpaved road which made a loop through the valley. Many visitors prefer to hire someone to drive them through the valley, but we trusted the Durango to take us through.
On our way to obtain a map, we found ourselves in a room dedicated to the famous Code Talkers of WWII. The contents of the room were interesting. In addition to information about the Code Talkers, the room displayed a brief history of WWII. Starting with the "sneak attack" on Pearl Harbor and ending with the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the various signs and photos gave a brief summary of the war and showed how the Code Talkers were first formed and how they operated.
It was difficult to concentrate in the room, however. A large, obnoxious group of foreigners decided to use the room to yell at each other. For some reason, they showed little interest in the information displayed in the room. When they left, I said to Carole: " You would think that they would have had some interest in learning why they were not able to break the code."
After we obtained the map, we took off on our drive. The speed limit was 15 miles an hour, but the road was so bad that we only got up to 15 miles an hour for short stretches. As we anticipated, the views were incredible.
I could picture Ben Johnson racing his horse Laddie away from pursuing Indians in She Wore a Yellow Ribbon. It was somewhat more difficult picturing John Wayne riding through the valley in The Searchers, a movie supposedly set in Texas.
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