THE COMPLEXITIES OF KIT CARSON
By Steven Emanuel
artssf.com, the independent observer of San Francisco Bay Area books
Weeks starting March 15, 2009
Vol. 11, No. 77
"Blood
and Thunder, the Epic Story of Kit Carson and the Conquest of the
American
West" (by Hampton Sides; now
available in paperback.) It
sounds
like something you'd find at an airport bookstall, shelved between "The
Nudist Camp Murders" and "Flying Saucers Ate My Dog."
But be not deceived; hidden behind that
title is an excellent book. It
is well-written, full of interesting
information, and intensely thought-provoking--for the name of Kit
Carson is one
to provoke arguments, even today.
Everyone
who went to school in the United States--at
least, west of the Mississippi--must
have learned about Kit Carson. His
name
is all over the landscape: you can drive up through Carson
Pass and down along the Carson
River,
all the way to the capital city of Nevada,
whose name you can guess. Trapper,
explorer, pathfinder, Indian fighter, he figured in the Mexican War and
in the
expansion of the United
States to the Pacific.
Although he was a modest man who never
sought the limelight, his reputation grew bigger than life and became
the stuff
of legend. And so he became a piece
of
American mythology, a John Wayne-like character who fought against
evildoers
and rescued the weak and helpless. In
this book Mr. Sides looks behind the myth and tells us who Carson really
was.
In 1826 Carson, aged 17, left
his Missouri
home. After heading west on the Santa Fe
Trail, he
trapped and explored over the entire western third of what is today the
United States. He was intelligent, able, energetic,
resourceful, and soft-spoken--and people tended to like and trust him. Although not by nature a leader, he was an extremely valuable follower, in
particular to the mercurial John C. Fremont, who found him almost
indispensible,
and who, by praising him in dispatches, helped make the name of Kit
Carson
famous. Fremont
was known as "The Pathfinder," but most of the paths were actually
found by Carson. Through his wide acquaintance Carson learned
to speak
Spanish, French, and several Indian languages.
But he never learned to read or write, even in English.
It was his
work as a capable assistant that got his reputation into trouble. He was known as a man who understood
Indians, and knew how to "handle" them. But
when Fremont, his admired leader, told
him to exact vengeance for an Indian attack, that was exactly what he
did. Locating a tranquil Klamath
village, Carson
and his men cold-bloodedly killed as many Indians as they could find. It didn't concern him that these might
not
be the same Indians that had committed the original attack. Modern scholarship has established that
the
original offenders had not been Klamaths at all; they were Modocs. But to Carson
it was all the same. They were Indians, and he had been instructed to show
the Indians who was boss.
Later in Carson's
life this sorry
incident was replayed on a much larger scale.
In 1863 Brigadier General James Henry Carleton, military
commander of New Mexico,
conceived a
"solution" to the problem of the Navajos. This
tribe had a history of warfare with the
New Mexican population, both
Hispanic and American, a tradition of mutual raiding and kidnapping
that had
gone on for hundreds of years. Although
fault lay on both sides, Carleton decided to put an end to the troubles
by
removing the Navajo en masse from their ancestral lands and sending
them to a
remote place called Bosque Redondo, an inhospitable hole far from the
Navajos'
home. Carson was assigned to do the nasty
job, and
he executed it with great success, using a scorched-earth policy. He and his soldiers systematically
destroyed the Indians' crops and orchards and made it impossible for
them to
survive. Reduced to a state of
starvation, the Navajos at last had no choice but to give themselves up
and be
marched--four hundred miles--to Bosque Redondo, where they remained in
increasing misery for several years.
Eventually word of their situation made it back to Washington, and
after a fact-finding visit
by General William T. Sherman they were
released and allowed to walk back to their ancestral lands-- those who
were
left. Of the nine thousand Navajos who
had been sent to Bosque Redondo, about three thousand died.
Carson
was not a
talkative or self-analytical man. No
doubt he would have been unwilling to address the question, but if he
had, he
might have said that he was a patriot and was only following orders. Once he had even remarked that most of
the
Indian troubles "arose from the aggressions of whites."
Yet somehow he never thought that what he did was wrong.
This book
is marvelous therapy for those who like to think of the old West as a
romantic
place. It was a terrible place,
where,
as author Sides remarks, no one was an outlaw, because there wasn't any
law. Reading
about the injustices and cruelties of that time are enough to make one
ill. Yet "Blood and Thunder"
is very much worth reading, not least for its wealth of detail about
early California and New Mexico. And
that isn't all.
History, at
its best, is more than a recitation of events.
This book raises deep questions
about personal conscience and national honor.
"Blood and
Thunder, The Epic Story of Kit Carson and the Conquest of the American
West," by Hampton
Sides. First paperback edition:
Anchor
Books, 2007, 578 pp, $15.95.
#
Steven Emanuel is a regular London-based theater reviewer for
artssf.com.
Coverage of theater in London or New York stems from the observation
that
those plays, if vital, gradually make their way to the West Coast.
These critiques appearing weekly (or sometimes semi-weekly, but never
weakly)will
focus on dance and new musical creativity in performance, with forays
into
recordings by local artists, and a few departures into books (by
authors
of the region) and theater as well.
#
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