For each chapter ofOB,you should read the entire chapter and take notes (which you will likely use on the respective assignment, as well as in your Final Exam studying and other course work).Once you

CHAPTER 9: THE AMERICAN WEST, Expansion and Contraction, 1860-1920

Documents: 6

Document 1, Natives on Westward Expansion (Smithsonian, 1867; 1929) 6

Document 2, The Frontier Guardian on “More Indian Outrage,” 1851 (teachushistory.org, 1851) 6

Document 3, The Rocky Mountain News reports on the Sand Creek Massacre (PBS.org, 1864) 8

Document 4, Representative Grow (PA) explains how the Homestead Act provides, “Free homes for free men” (American Memory, 1860) 12

Document 5, Frances Garside, “The farmers’ wives are not merely ‘helpmeets’” in Kansas (Garside, 1995) 15

Document 6, Narrative of Cathay Williams, a female Buffalo Soldier (sangres.com, 1876) 16

Document 7, Illustration of blacks moving west from Louisiana to Kansas after the Civil War (Library of Congress, 1870) 17

Document 8, Interview of Bones Hooks, a black cowboy (American Memory, 1940) 18

Document 9, Benjamin Singleton testifies about the “Negro Exodus from the Southern States” (PBS.org, 1880) 22

Document 10, George B. Morris on “The Chinaman as he is…” (Library of Congress, c. 1868) 27

Document 11, Anti-Chinese boycott broadside (American Memory, c. 1889) 28

Document 12, Samuel Clemens on Mining Towns from Roughing It (Huntington Library, 1872) 30

Post-Reading Exercises 32

Works Cited 33

Introduction and Pre-Reading Questions: The west was a place that, through the end of the 1830s, was feared by most Americans. People assumed the soil was poor, the climate bad and the Indians terrifying. But by the mid-1840s, farmers, ranchers and miners, among others, took a gamble and tried their luck out west; by the end of the Civil War the romanticized notion of their experience on the “‘frontier’” drew increasingly more people out there in search of “wealth, adventure, opportunity, and untrammeled individualism.”1 In particular, it was the frontier thesis of a young man named Frederick Jackson Turner in 1893 that propelled greater numbers of Americans to unknown territory. His thesis said that the free lands that lie west, coupled with the drive of Americans to settle on that land, gave Americans the ruggedness, individuality and power they possessed.

What these new settlers found in their quest for excitement, however, was often extreme hardship in the new western lands. The image of the frontier was one of uncharted territory, virgin land, an unconquered and untamed environment, an empty plot of land ripe for settlement. But what these western-bound settlers usually found was a territory with diverse groups of Indians, Mexicans, French, Asians and others, all with different cultures, languages and ideas about “ ‘America.’”

Prior to massive white expansion to the Far West, various societies flourished in the Far West—the region beyond the Mississippi River—places like New Mexico, California, Texas, Colorado, and eventually territories like Oklahoma and the Dakotas. The largest populations in the West were the Indian tribes who lived there. Some of these tribes had been displaced from their Eastern locations and relocated to western lands during earlier disputes with eastern whites (namely during the Indian Removal of the 1830s). Others had been inhabiting these lands for centuries. These native groups were spread out across the west and had varying reactions to outsiders encroaching on their territory.

So when American settlers began moving west, in search of more land, this migration often spelled massive devastation for Native populations, at worst, and constant warfare, at best. Documents 1-3 illustrate what westward settlement looked like for both whites and natives. What justifications did each side give in their battle for land? What were the positives of westward expansion? The negatives?

Despite nearly constant warfare with natives in the west, people flocked to western territories and states in great numbers. Most of the westward settlers were from the eastern United States and began their journey after the end of the Civil War. There was also a huge influx of foreign immigration, with over 2 million immigrants traveling to the western frontier between 1870 and 1900, from Scandinavia, Germany, Ireland, Russia, Czechoslovakia, and other European countries. These migrants and immigrants came to the west for specific reasons: the prospect of getting rich off of gold or silver was incredibly tempting; the seemingly endless fields for putting cattle and sheep to pasture were quickly filling up in the East and were already full in Europe; the transcontinental railroad, which had been completed in 1869, provided a connection to new trading spots and new settlement areas; and the government’s passage of laws like The Homestead Act of 1862, which offered 160 acres of land to settlers for $1.25/acre and a promise to live on that land for five years and improve it. All of these factors made the frontier seem extremely promising, as you can see in Documents 4 and 5. According to these documents, what was the allure of the west? What were some of the problems settlers had in the west?

Alongside white migrants to the west were African Americans who left the racist South at the end of the Civil War in hopes of a better life in the West. Many began the journey with great hope—hope that their economic situation, their political situation and their social and cultural situations would be better. The black experience, as you’ll see in Documents 6-9, was something of a mixed bag—for some, times were much better, while for others, the journey and the West itself proved to be almost as difficult and problematic as life in the South and East had been and racism and discrimination certainly existed throughout the new western regions.

Similarly, immigrants also came from countries like Mexico, Japan and China, in the hopes of creating a better life and these non-white settlers also found times were difficult in the west. These groups were often marginalized because of their race and ethnicity, but none more so than the Chinese. The Chinese came over around the same time as the Europeans were coming over in the mid-19th century. China was an incredibly impoverished country at this time and many Chinese immigrated in the hope of finding something better. After the gold rush hit in the late 1840s, the Chinese began immigrating in large numbers and by 1880, “more than 200,000 Chinese had settled in the United States, mostly in California where they constituted nearly a tenth of the population.”2 Most Chinese came to work in the mines and were seen, early on, by white settlers as industrious and hard-working. But as it became clear that the Chinese were proving to be even more hard-working and industrious than themselves, whites began to view the Chinese in a hostile, racist manner. White settlers quickly came to resent Chinese miners and this view soon made it into the state legislatures and into popular culture, as you’ll see in Documents 10 and 11. Why do you think the west was so appealing to minority groups? Do you think the west provided opportunity or more problems for these minority groups?

Despite some of the problems posed by westward expansion, millions of people migrated and immigrated to the west. Unlike today, however, when people move West because of the good weather, the ocean, the flat land for horse riding and the tall mountains for skiing, in the 19th century, people moved West simply because land was cheap. When they got here, though, they had to find a way to make some money, so three major industries developed: gold and silver mining, cattle ranching and farming. Document 12, a piece by famous author Samuel Clemens, describes life in one of the mining towns that cropped up in the west in the post-Civil War era. What were mining towns like? Did mining provide useful opportunities or pipe dreams?

Like mining, cattle ranching and farming also had their positives and negatives, which meant that people continued migrating west, but also that some Americans (particularly the younger generations) began to look for something bigger, more exciting, and more opportunity-filled, in America’s growing and industrializing cities.

Kiowa Chief Santana on Westward Expansion

A long time ago this land belonged to our fathers; but when I go up to the river I see camps of soldiers here on its bank. These soldiers cut down my timber; they kill my buffalo; and when I see that, my heart feels like bursting; I feel sorry.

Sioux Chief Luther Standing Bear on Westward Expansion

It did not occur to me at the time that I was going away to learn the ways of the white man. My idea was that I was leaving the reservation and going to stay away long enough to do some brave deed, and then come home again alive. If I could just do that, then I knew my father would be so proud of me.

More Indian Outrage—Forty-five Head of Cattle Lost by a Party of Oregon Emigrants — The Pawnee Considered Accessory to the Stampede.

Since our last issue, a company of Oregon Emigrants from Peoria County, Illinois, and some from Wisconsin; returned to this place. They crossed the Missouri River at Ferryville, on the 10th of June, numbering seventeen wagons.

This company proceeded on their journey prosperously, until they crossed the Horne; at which place, they were surrounded by a large body of Pawnees, some of whom were on horseback, the others on mules, and on foot. Before the Indians reached the camp, they raised their Yell, or War-hoop, showing their hostile feelings; and their determination to molest the pacific travelers.

Upon coming up to the camp, they demanded two cows from the company; but by parleying with them, the concluded to take one cow, and one sack of flour; and abandon their hostile intentions. The company complied with their request, and gave them the choice of the selection; which the Indians insisted on having. The company then took up their line of march, and got along well as far as Big Beaver Creek, one hundred and four miles from Winter Quarters, at which place they arrived about noon; (the date we have been unable to learn) this stream not being fordable they commenced operations for bridging it, and had to remain there all night. About ten 0'clock that night the cattle took stampede; several of the company whom we have seen, say; that they are satisfied the Indians were the cause of it, as they had seen them several times on the way, prowling round among the brush, and following them up. Next day, the Red skins made their appearance at the camp, and proferred [sic] their services to recover the cattle, on the condition that the company would pay them handsomely for it; the latter agreed to these conditions, and three days after, the Indians brought back ten head, for which the emigrants paid them fifteen dollars worth in provisions, and five in money.

The total number of cattle lost, were one hundred and twenty, out of which sixty-four were recovered; part by the Indians and the remainder by persons belonging to the company.

One of the emigrants is now in our Office, as we are writing this article, who says; that out of the remaining fifty-six head, they have been able to recover eleven more, making in all forty-five head that they cannot find, Ten wagons of company, came to this county; being unable to proceed any further this season on account of their loss; the other seven joined our last company from this place for Salt Lake.

The repeated aggressions, of the Omaha, Ottoe, and Pawnee Indians, on this Frontier, and on the plains, should enlist the special attention of the General Government, in Washington City; and we think, prompt, and energetic measures ought to be entered into by the Legislative Department there, to suppress these high-handed acts of the sons of the forest, on the property of American citizens; so that the honest, upright, and persevering Emigrant, may not have his enterprizing [sic] spirit broken, and his hard earned effects destroyed by these desperadoes, without the least shadow of reclamation, or remuneration whatever for his loss.

[one line unreadable due to crease] beyond his control to govern or bring these Indians to anything like conciliatory measures without the aid of an armed force. Here they are, at loose ends, ready to assail every company that may happen to come under their observation; and furthermore, the Major states, though he has repeatedly, made application to several of the Forts for assistance; his efforts have failed to secure any.

We sincerely hope, that something will be done soon, and that effectually too; so us to insure the safety, and success of the Westward-bound Emigrant.

The Battle of Sand Creek

Among the brilliant feats of arms in Indian warfare, the recent campaign of our Colorado volunteers will stand in history with few rivals, and none to exceed it in final results. We are not prepared to write its history, which can only be done by some one who accompanied the expedition, but we have gathered from those who participated in it and from others who were in that part of the country, some facts which will doubtless interest many of our readers.

The people of Colorado are well aware of the situation occupied by the third regiment during the great snow-storm which set in the last of October. Their rendezvous was in Bijou Basin, about eighty miles southeast of this city, and close up under the foot of the Divide. That point had been selected as the base for an Indian campaign. Many of the companies reached it after the storm set in; marching for days through the driving, blinding clouds of snow and deep drifts. Once there, they were exposed for weeks to an Arctic climate, surrounded by a treeless plain covered three feet deep with snow. Their animals suffered for food and with cold, and the men fared but little better. They were insufficiently supplied with tents and blankets, and their sufferings were intense. At the end of a month the snow had settled to the depth of two fee, and the command set out upon its long contemplated march. The rear guard left the Basin on the 23rd of November. Their course was southeast, crossing the Divide and thence heading for Fort Lyon. For one hundred miles the snow was quite two feet in depth, and for the next hundred it ranged from six to twelve inches. Beyond that the ground was almost bare and the snow no longer impeded their march.

On the afternoon of the 28th the entire command reached Fort Lyon, a distance of two hundred and sixty miles, in less than six days, and so quietly and expeditiously had the march been made that the command at the fort was taken entirely by surprise. When the vanguard appeared in sight in was reported that a body of Indians were approaching, and precautions were taken for their reception. No one upon the route was permitted to go in advance of the column, and persons who it was suspected would spread the news of the advance were kept under surveillance until all danger from that source was past.

At Fort Lyon the force was strengthened by about two hundred and fifty men of the first regiment, and at nine o'clock in the evening the command set out for the Indian village. The course was due north, and their guide was the Polar star. As daylight dawned they came in sight of the Indian camp, after a forced midnight march of forty-two miles, in eight hours, across the rough, unbroken plain. But little time was required for preparation. The forces had been divided and arranged for battle on the march, and just as the sun rose they dashed upon the enemy with yells that would put a Comanche army to blush. Although utterly surprised, the savages were not unprepared, and for a time their defense told terribly against our ranks. Their main force rallied and formed in line of battle on the bluffs beyond the creek, where they were protected by rudely constructed rifle-pits, from which they maintained a steady fire until the shells from company C's (third regiment) howitzers began dropping among them, when they scattered and fought each for himself in genuine Indian fashion. As the battle progressed the field of carriage widened until it extended over not less than twelve miles of territory. The Indians who could escaped or secreted themselves, and by three o'clock in the afternoon the carnage had ceased. It was estimated that between three and four hundred of the savages got away with their lives. Of the balance there were neither wounded nor prisoners. Their strength at the beginning of the action was estimated at nine hundred.

Their village consisted of one hundred and thirty Cheyenne and with Arapahoe lodges. These, with their contents, were totally destroyed. Among their effects were large supplies of flour, sugar, coffee, tea, &c. Women's and children's clothing were found; also books and many other articles which must have been taken from captured trains or houses. One white man's scalp was found which had evidently been taken but a few days before. The Chiefs fought with unparalleled bravery, falling in front of their men. One of them charged alone against a force of two or three hundred, and fell pierced with balls far in advance of his braves.

Our attack was made by five battalions. The first regiment, Colonel Chivington, part of companies C,D,E,G, H and K, numbering altogether about two hundred and fifty men, was divided into two battalions; the first under command of Major Anthony, and the second under Lieutenant Wilson, until the latter was disabled, when the command devolved upon Lieutenant Dunn. The three battalions of the third, Colonel Shoup, were led, respectively, by Lieutenant Colonel Bowen, Major Sayr, and Captain Cree. The action was begun by the battalion of Lieutenant Wilson, who occupied the right, and by a quick and bold movement cut off the enemy from their herd of stock. From this circumstance we gained our great advantage. A few Indians secured horses, but the great majority of them had to fight or fly on foot. Major Anthony was on the left, and the third in the centre.

Among the killed were all the Cheyenne chiefs, Black Kettle, White Antelope, Little Robe, Left Hand, Knock Knee, One Eye, and another, name unknown. Not a single prominent man of the tribe remains, and the tribe itself is almost annihilated. The Arapahoes probably suffered but little. It has been reported that the chief Left Hand, of that tribe, was killed, but Colonel Chivington is of the opinion that he was not. Among the stock captured were a number of government horses and mules, including the twenty or thirty stolen from the command of Lieutenant Chase at Jimmy's camp last summer.

The Indian camp was well supplied with defensive works. For half a mile along the creek there was an almost continuous chain of rifle-pits, and another similar line of works crowned the adjacent bluff. Pits had been dug at all the salient points for miles. After the battle twenty-tree dead Indians were taken from one of these pits and twenty-seven from another.

Whether viewed as a march or as a battle, the exploit has few, if any, parallels. A march of 260 miles in but a fraction more than five days, with deep snow, scanty forage, and no road, is a remarkable feat, whilst the utter surprise of a large Indian village is unprecedented. In no single battle in North America, we believe, have so many Indians been slain.

It is said that a short time before the command reached the scene of battle of an old squaw partially alarmed the village by reporting that a great herd of buffalo were coming. She heard the rumbling of the artillery and tramp of the moving squadrons, but her people doubted. In a little time the doubt was dispelled, but not by buffaloes.

A thousand incidents of individual daring and the passing events of the day might be told, but space forbids. We leave the task for eye-witnesses to chronicle. All acquitted themselves well, and Colorado soldiers have again covered themselves with glory.

The Fort Lyon Affair

The issue of yesterday's News, containing the following despatch, created considerable of a sensation in this city, particularly among the Thirdsters and others who participated in the recent campaign and the battle on Sand creek.

Washington, December 20, 1864

"The affair at Fort Lyon, Colorado, in which Colonel Chivington destroyed a large Indian village, and all its inhabitants, is to be made the subject of congressional investigation. Letters received from high officals in Colorado say that the Indians were killed after surrendering, and that a large proportion of them were women and children."

Indignation was loudly and unequivocally expressed, and some less considerate of the boys were very persistent in their inquiries as to who those "high officials" were, with a mild intimation that they had half a mind to "go for them." This talk about "friendly Indians" and a "surrendered" village will do to "tell to marines," but to us out here it is all bosh.

The confessed murderers of the Hungate family - a man and wife and their two little babes, whose scalped and mutilated remains were seen by all our citizens -- were "friendly Indians," we suppose, in the eyes of these "high officials." They fell in the Sand creek battle.

The confessed participants in a score of other murders of peaceful settlers and inoffensive travelers upon our borders and along our roads in the past six months must have been friendly, or else the "high officials" wouldn't say so.

The band of marauders in whose possession were found scores of horses and mules stolen from government and from individuals; wagon loads of flour, coffee, sugar and tea, and rolls of broad cloth, calico, books, &c, robbed from freighters and emigrants on the plains; underclothes of white women and children, stripped from their murdered victims, were probably peaceably disposed toward some of those "high officials," but the mass of our people "can't see it."

Probably those scalps of white men, women and children, one of them fresh, not three days taken, found drying in their lodges, were taken in a friendly, playful manner; or possibly those Indian saddle-blankets trimmed with the scalp's of white women, and with braids and fringes of their hair, were kept simply as mementos of their owners' high affection for the pale face. At any rate, these delicate and tasteful ornaments could not have been taken from the heads of the wives, sisters or daughters of these "high officials."

That "surrendering" must have been the happy thought of an exceedingly vivid imagination, for we can hear of nothing of the kind from any of those who were engaged in the battle. On the contrary, the savages fought like devils to the end, and one of our pickets was killed and scalped by them the next day after the battle, and a number of others were fired upon. In one instance a party of the vidette pickets were compelled to beat a hasty retreat to save their lives, full twenty-four hours after the battle closed. This does not look much like the Indians had surrendered.

But we are not sure that an investigation may not be a good thing. It should go back of the "affair at Fort Lyon," as they are pleased to term it down east, however, and let the world know who were making money by keeping those Indians under the sheltering protection of Fort Lyon; learn who was interested in systematically representing that the Indians were friendly and wanted peace. It is unquestioned and undenied that the site of the Sand creek battle was the rendezvous of the thieving and marauding bands of savages who roamed over this country last summer and fall, and it is shrewdly suspected that somebody was all the time making a very good thing out of it. By all means let there be an investigation, but we advise the honorable congressional committee, who may be appointed to conduct it, to get their scalps insured before they pass Plum creek on their way out.

SEPTEMBER 1891:

With the beginning of harvest comes the hardest time of the whole year for women folks

on the farm. When the heads of wheat begin to turn brown, the housewives bestir themselves to

lay in large stores of supplies to cook for harvest hands, and to try to secure help in the kitchen

during the busy season.

Improved machinery for reaping grain lessens the number of hands required for harvesting, and the steam thresher increases the amount required at threshing time, but compensates somewhat by shortening the time of their stay. Threshers are looked upon as a sort of plague, or necessary evil and the common enemy of woman kind. They drop in unexpectedly before breakfast or just after supper, and always at dinner. The unsuspecting family may be taking a quiet breakfast when eight or ten men will walk in, wash their faces and sit down to the table. The horrified housekeeper knows full well that this means twenty men for dinner and for every meal until the great wheat stacks are exhausted which takes sometimes two or three weeks.

New machinery has done much to lighten and lessen the work of men on the farm—riding plows, patent drills, self binders, headers and steam threshers all tend to do this; but machinery has as yet wrought but little benefit to farmers' wives. Dishwashing, cooking, scrubbing and ironing, like perpetual motion, seem to be beyond the skill of inventors. Women's work on the farm is constant, unceasing toil—a never-ending, recurring round of duties, "world without end."

All the hard work consequent upon the harvest, which is mostly cooking, has to be done in hot weather, the hardest time of the whole year to do this kind of work, and also at a time when it is next to impossible to obtain help for the kitchen. Many a farmer's wife with a babe lying in the crib and two or three small children to be cared for, patiently gets through the herculean task all alone, except such help as the men folks can give morning and evening. The farmers' wives are not merely "helpmeets" in subduing the wilds of this western country, but have done their full share of solid, hard work as equal partners; and if there is a credit balance on either side, it is in favor of the women.

The women on the farms are intelligent as a class. They work, and read and think. They

devote what leisure time they have to reading, instead of fashionable dress and society calls.

Consequently they are well informed on the leading topics of the day; and many a woman now

living on a Kansas farm, in her girlhood attended the best schools in the east. Yet these women

are disfranchised. The legislature of Kansas passed a law called the "Municipal Suffrage Law,"

which granted to women living in cities the right to vote for municipal offices, but neglected to

provide any privileges for this great army of women who reside in the country; and if in the

campaign of 1890 the farmer women massed their strength and energy to elect the candidates on

the People's ticket, no one can blame them. It spoke well for their political sagacity and excellent

knowledge of "ways and means."

St. Louis Daily Times, January 2, 1876

My Father a was a freeman, but my mother a slave, belonging to William Johnson, a wealthy farmer who lived at the time I was born near Independence, Jackson county, Missouri. While I was a small girl my master and family moved to Jefferson City. My master died there and when the war broke out and the United States soldiers came to Jefferson City they took me and other colored folks with them to Little Rock. Col. Benton of the 13th army corps was the officer that carried us off. I did not want to go. He wanted me to cook for the officers, but I had always been a house girl and did not know how to cook. I learned to cook after going to Little Rock and was with the army at The Battle of Pea Ridge.

Afterwards the command moved over various portions of Arkansas and Louisiana. I saw the soldiers burn lots of cotton and was at Shreveport when the rebel gunboats were captured and burned on Red River. We afterwards went to New Orleans, then by way of the Gulf to Savannah Georgia, then to Macon and other places in the South. Finally I was sent to Washington City and at the time Gen. Sheridan made his raids in the Shenandoah valley I was cook and washwoman for his staff I was sent from Virginia to some place in Iowa and afterwards to Jefferson Barracks, where I remained some time. You will see by this paper that on the 15th day of November 1866 I enlisted in the United States army at St. Louis, in the Thirty-eighth United States Infantry Company A., Capt. Charles E. Clarke commanding. The regiment I joined wore the Zouave uniform and only two persons, a cousin and a particular friend, members of the regiment, knew that I was a woman. They never 'blowed' on me.

They were partly the cause of my joining the army. Another reason was I wanted to make my own living and not be dependent on relations or friends. Soon after I joined the army, I was taken with the small-pox and was sick at a hospital across the river from St. Louis, but as soon as I got well I joined my company in New Mexico. I was as that paper says, I was never put in the guard house, no bayonet was ever put to my back. I carried my musket and did guard and other duties while in the army, but finally I got tired and wanted to get off. I played sick, complained of pains in my side, and rheumatism in my knees. The post surgeon found out I was a woman and I got my discharge. The men all wanted to get rid of me after they found out I was a woman. Some of them acted real bad to me. After leaving the army I went to Pueblo, Colorado, where I made money by cooking and washing. I got married while there, but my husband was no account. He stole my watch and chain, a hundred dollars in money and my team of horses and wagon. I had him arrested and put in jail, and then I came here. I like this town. I know all the good people here, and I expect to get rich yet. I have not got my land warrant. I thought I would wait till the railroad came and then take my land near the depot. Grant owns all this land around here, and it won't cost me anything. I shall never live in the states again. You see I've got a good sewing machine and I get washing to do and clothes to make. I want to get along and not be a burden to my friends or relatives.

Matthew (Bones) Hooks, who for years worked on Panhandle ranches as a horse wrangler and "bronc-buster", [know?] many tales of cowboy life in the early days, but he refuses to tell the most interesting ones" because it would rattle skeletons in the closets of prominent families"--old-timers who are still living or their descendants.

Bones, without calling embarrassing names, recites a case in point. Called as a witness before a grand jury recently, he recognized in the judge a pioneer cattleman.

"Bones, do you know anyone who has stolen cattle"--the judge caught the glint of memory in the piercing black eyes and hastily added-"now?" And Bones, whose lips had been forming the question, "What time are you talking about, Judge?" could honestly answer, "No".

Both of them were recalling a certain day in the past when the judge, then a young man just starting out in the cattle business, and a young Negro cowboy drove a fine young male calf from the pastures of the Capitol Syndicate (XIT Ranch) to the white man's ranch.

The embryo cattleman could not afford to buy a good bull--Bones said "surly"; he would not use the word "bull" before a lady interviewer--which he needed for breeding purposes. He went to the Negro cowboy, who was working an the XIT at the time, and asked him if he knew where he could get one. Bones looked over the range and, seeing no one near, selected a fine-looking calf, which they drove toward the home ranch of the judge-to-be. Coming upon a still better animal, Bones exchanged the tired calf for the other, and proceeded an his way.

The young rancher tied up the calf until it was weaned to keep it from getting back with the mother cow. "It took about four days to wean a calf," said Bones. "After that time he would go down to the water hole and drink and then mosey out on the range and eating grass and forget all about him mamma".

Bones, who was very young when he was working on Panhandle ranches in the days before law and order came, has good reason to remember the Vigilantes who took the place of the "law" in those days. The Negro cowboy, since the death of "Skillety Bill" Johnson of Canadian, is the last person to know the password of the Vigilantes.

When Skillety Bill died, persons interested in {Begin deleted text}he{End deleted text} {Begin inserted text}the{End inserted text} history of the Panhandle went through his personal effects. Among his papers they found the notation that Bones was the only person left knowing the password. These same persons went to Bones and asked for the password, but he refused. "I am going to keep my word until I die," he said, "and then my papers will be left to the [museum?]. The password will be among them."

According to Bones, Skillety Bill got his name because he worked on the Frying Pan Ranch. Cowboys from the Panhandle ranches in the early days went to [Mobeetie?] (early Sweetwater), adjacent to Fort Elliott, to "celebrate". Negro women in the families of colored troops stationed at the army post would see Bill Johnson coming and say "There comes that Skillety (their version of Prying Pan) Bill fellow".

Skillety Bill figured in one of the most important episodes in Bones' life. The Negro boy was working at the time in old Greer County, which was a part of the "neutral Strip", locally called a second "No Man's Land". Bones, young and inexperienced, had hired out to wrangle horses for a certain cattleman.

One day, while be was tending the horses and minding his own business, Vigilantes rode up and asked him, "Are you working for those cattlemen down the creek?" Bones admitted that he was. Before he could says "Jack Robinson", the Vigilantes jerked him up and started to hang him an the nearest tree. They had already hanged the two white men mentioned to other convenient trees.

One of them Bones knew to be innocent. He was only a young boy who had come into the country looking for work two or three days before, and {Begin deleted text}ho{End deleted text} {Begin inserted text}who{End inserted text} like himself, had hired out to the first men that offered him a job. But the Vigilantes, catching both of the white men with a herd of stolen cattle, took only circumstantial evidence into consideration and hanged them both.

Bones was certain that they were going to add him to their victims, when Skillety Bill spoke up in behalf of the colored lad, saying that he was a mere boy, wrangling horses for the boss and only carrying out orders of the cattle thief, whom he had taken to be a bona fide cattleman.

"A red-haired man astride a limb of the tree gave the rope around my neck a rough jerk," Bones vividly recalled;" and said, 'Aw, come on, let's got it over with'; but Skillety Bill saved my life."

After this narrow escape, Bones went into Oklahoma (then the Indian Territory) and so successfully "lost" himself that his own family and others thought him dead. At last he ventured back into Greer County. Walking through the streets of a Panhandle town, which he refuses to name, he came face to face with the sheriff (Skillety Bill).

The sheriff looked at him closely and finally said, "I thought you were dead. How long are you going to be here?"

"Only a little bit--a few days", Bones replied.

The sheriff started off down the street, turned back, and said, "How long did you say you were going to be in town? Did you say'a little bit'?"

Bones, answered quickly, "Yes, sir, a little bit". He knew what would happen to him if he did not get out of town in a "little bit"--and he got.

The pioneer Negro broncho-buster knows cowboy life as few white persons now living. He was an interested listener around the campfires of nearly every ranch in the Panhandle. He heard many a lurid tale around a cow-chip blaze--words that can not be repeated in the hearing of ladies or in polite society. "Every horse, every man, bread and other articles of the camp, had a nickname, often unmentionable in mixed groups, "he said.

Bones recalls an incident that occurred during a visit of Mrs. Charles Goodnight to a camp one day. One of the cowboys, who did not know of the lady's presence, said, "Bones, bring me up a horse."

"Which one?"

"that old--," the cowboy stopped suddenly and clapped his hand over his mouth, preventing the escape of the horse's unmentionable name when he saw Mrs. Goodnight standing there. "You know which one I want, "he added significantly.

Bones honors and reveres the pioneer women of his beloved Panhandle, because they helped him as they helped so many others. When the cowboys tormented him--as they were always doing in some fashion--they took his part and made the white boys stop shooting blank cartridges at his feet or whatever they were doing to him at the moment.

It was one of those pioneer women who taught Bones not to "cuss". His favorite by word was "I'God"--a corruption of "by God". This pioneer mother came to him one day and said, "Bones, young Bob is taking up your speech and I don't want him to say 'I'God'. I can't keep his from saying it as long as he hears you, so I'm going to have to break you of the habit. If you'll quit, I'll buy you a Sunday suit."

Bones wanted that suit. When Bob repeated the byword, the Negro boy would say, "Bob, white boys can get suits any time, but this the only way that I can get one. You mustn't say 'I'God', or I won't get that suit".

Bones, who attends every celebration of old-timers, at one of these recent gatherings met the daughter of one of the pioneer families for whom he used to work--he frequently associated with the children of the early settlers, especially the boys. He reminded her of the time when she was a very young lady indeed. At that time she had never seen a colored person.

"Remember when you first saw me eating with the other cowboys? "he said. "You peeked aut from behind your mother's skirt and said, 'Mamma, one of them didn't wash his face'"

Bones said that he usually ate with the other cow hands. Once, when someone objected to the presence of the Negro boy at the same table, a pioneer housewife told the objector, "Everyone is treated alike at my table".

"In the early days," Bones said in answer to a question, "when a cowboy died on the trail, accidentally or otherwise, he was buried in a hole dug in the sod without loss of time and without much ceremony. The name of the dead man was sent to his family if anyone knew his real name or who his people were.

"Later, coffins were made of pine boards. Those who died were buried as soon as possible in those days, for obvious reasons. Relatives and friends sat up with the dead to keep the cats and dogs away.

"Services for the dead were held by a friend or someone who was qualified--later by traveling preachers. Towns were far apart, and preachers and doctors had to go miles and miles to serve these communities.

"Meetings"--church services--" were held in the homes of pioneers until churches were built", he concluded.

Benjamin Singleton (colored) sworn and examined.

By Mr. Windom:

Question. Where were you born, Mr. Singleton?

Answer. I was born in the State of Tennessee, sir.

Q. Where do you now live?

A. In Kansas.

Q. What part of Kansas?

A. I have a colony sixty miles from Topeka, sir.

Q. Which way from Topeka -- west?

A. Yes, sir; sixty miles from Topeka, west.

Q. What is your colony called?

A. Singleton colony is the name of it, sir.

Q. How long has it been since you have formed that colony?

A. I have two colonies in Kansas -- one in Cherokee County, and one in Lyon, Morris County.

Q. When did you commence the formation of that colony -- the first one?

A. I was in 1875, perhaps.

Q. That is, you first began this colonizing business in 1875?

A. No; when I first commenced working at this it was in 1869.

Q. You commenced your colony, then, in 1869?

A. No, I commenced getting the emigration up in 1875; I think it was in 1875.

Q. When did you leave Tennessee, Mr. Singleton?

A. This last time; do you mean?

Q. No; when you moved from there to Kansas?

A. It has been a year this month, just about now.

Q. You misunderstand me; you say you were born in Tennessee?

A. Yes, sir.

Q. And you now live in Kansas?

A. Yes, sir.

Q. When did you change your home from Tennessee to Kansas?

A. I have been going there for the last six or seven years, sir.

Q. Going between Tennessee and Kansas, at different times?

A. Yes, sir; several times.

Q. Well, tell us about it?

A. I have been fetching out people; I believe I fetched out 7,432 people.

Q. You have brought out 7,432 people from the South to Kansas?

A. Yes, sir; brought and sent.

Q. That is, they came out to Kansas under your influence?

A. Yes, sir; I was the cause of it.

Q. How long have you been doing that -- ever since 1869?

A. Yes, sir; ever since 1869.

Q. Did you go out there yourself in 1869, before you commenced sending them out?

A. No, sir.

Q. How did you happen to send them out?

A. The first cause, do you mean, of them going?

Q. Yes; What was the cause of your going out, and in the first place how did you happen to go there, or to send these people there?

A. Well, my people, for the want of land -- we needed land for our children -- and their disadvantages -- that caused my heart to grieve and sorrow; pity for my race, sir, that was coming down, instead of going up -- that caused me to go to work for them. I sent out there perhaps in '66 -- perhaps so; or in '65, any way -- my memory don't recollect which; and they brought back tolerable favorable reports; then I jacked up three or four hundred, and went into Southern Kansas, and found it was a good country, and I though Southern Kansas was congenial to our nature, sir; and I formed a colony there, and bought about a thousand acres of ground -- the colony did -- my people.

Q. And they went upon it and settled there?

A. Yes, sir; they went and settled there.

Q. Were they men with some means or without means?

A. I never carried none there without means.

Q. They had some means to start with?

A. Yes; I prohibited my people leaving their country and going there without they had money -- some money to start with and go on with a while.

Q. You were in favor of their going there if they had some means?

A. Yes, and not staying at home.

Q. Tell us how these people are getting on in Kansas?

A. I am glad to tell you, sir.

Q. Have they any property now?

A. Yes; I have carried some people in there that when they got there they didn't have fifty cents left, and now they have got in my colony -- Singleton colony -- a house, nice cabins, their milch cows, and pigs, and sheep, perhaps a span of horses, and trees before their yeards, and some three or four or ten acres broken up, and all of them has got little houses that I carried there. They didn't go under no relief assistance; they went on their own resources; and when they went in there first the country was not overrun with them; you see they could get good wages; the country was not overstocked with people; they went to work, and I never helped them as soon as I put them on the land.

Q. Well, they have been coming continually, and adding from time to time to your colony these few years past, have they?

A. Yes, sir; I have spent, perhaps, nearly six hundred dollars flooding the country with circulars.

Q. You have sent the circulars yourself, have you?

A. Yes, sir; all over these United States.

Q. Did you send them into other Southern States besides Tennessee?

A. O, yes, sir.

Q. Did you do that at the instance of Governor St. John and others in Kansas?

A. O, no, sir; no white men. This was gotten up by colored men in purity and confidence; not a political negro was in it; they would want to pilfer and rob at the cents before they got the dollars. O, no, it was the muscle of the arm, the men that worked that we wanted.

Q. Well, tell us all about it.

A. These men would tell all their grievances to me in Tennessee -- the sorrows of their heart. You know I was an undertaker there in Nashville, and worked in the shop. Well, actually, I would have to go and bury their fathers and mothers. You see we have the same heart and feelings as any other race and nation. (The land is free, and it is nobody's business, if there is land enough, where the people go. I put that in my people's heads.) Well, that man would die, and I would bury him; and the next morning maybe a woman would go to that man (meaning the landlord), and she would have six or seven children, and he would say to her, "Well, your husband owed me before he died" and they would say that to every last one of them, "You owe me." Suppose he would? Then he would say, "You must go to some other place; I cannot take care of you." Now, you see, that is something I would take notice of. that woman had to go out, and these little children was left running through the streets, and the next place you would find them in a disorderly house, and their children in the State's prison.

Well, now, sir, you will find that I ahve a charter here. You will find that I called on the white people in Tennessee about that time. I called conventions about it, and they sat with me in my conventions, and "Old man," they said, "you are right." The white people said, "You are right; take your people away." And let me tell you, it was the white people -- the ex-governor of the State, felt like I did. and they said to me, "You have tooken a great deal on to yourself, but if these negroes, instead of deceiving one another and running for office, would take the same idea that you have in your head, you will be a people."

I then went out to Kansas, and advised them all to go to Kansas; and, sir they are going to leave the Southern country. The Southern country is out of joint. The blood of a white man runs through my veins. That is congenial, you know, to my nature. that is my choice. Right emphatically, I tell you today, I woke up the millions right through me! The great God of glory has worked in me. I have had open air interviews with the living spirit of God for my people; and we are going to leave the South. We are going to leave it if there ain't an alteration and signs of change. I am going to advise the people who left that country (Kansas) to go back.

Q. What do you mean by a change?

A. Well, I am not going to stand bulldozing and half pay and all those things. Gentelmen, allow me to tell you the truth; it seems to me that they have picked out the negroes from the Southern country to come here and testify who are in good circumstances and own their homes and not the poor ones who don't study their own interests. Let them go and pick up the men that has to walk when they goes, and not those who have money.

There is good white men in the Southern country, but it ain't the minority (majority); they can't do nothing; the bulldozers has got possession of the country, and they have got to go in there and stop them; if they don't the last colored man will leave them. I see colored men testifying to a positive lie, for they told me out there all their intgerests were in Louisiana and Mississippi. Said I,"You are right to protect you own country," and they would tell me, "I am obliged to do what I am doing." Of course I have done the same, but I am clear footed.

Q. Now you say that during these years you have been getting up this colony you have spent, yourself, some six hundred dollars in circulars, and in sending them out; where did you send them, Mr. Singleton?

A. Into Mississippi, Alabama, South Carolina, Georgia, Kentucky, Virginia, North Carolina, Texas, Tennessee, and all those countries.

Q. To whom did you send them; how were they circulated?

A. Every man that would come into my country, and I could get a chance, I would put one in his hand, and the boys that started from my country on the boats, and the porters in the cars. That is the way I circulated them.

Q. Did you send any out by mail?

A. I think I sent some perhaps to North Carolina by mail -- I think I did. I sent them out by people, you see.

Q. Yes; by colored people, generally?

A. Some white people, too. There was Mrs. Governor Brown, the first Governor Brown of Tennessee -- Mrs. Sanders, she was a widow, and she married the governor. He had thirty on his place. I went to him, and he has given me advice. And Ex-Governor Brown, he is there too.

Q. You say your circulars were sent all over these States?

A. Yes, sir; to all of 'em.

Q. Did you ever hear from them; did anybody ever write to you about them?

A. O, yes.

Q. And you attribute this movement to the information you gave in your circulars?

A. Yes, sir; I am the whole cause of the Kansas immigration!

Q. You take all that responsibility on yourself?

A. I do, and I can prove it; and I think I have done a good deal of good, and I feel relieved!

Q. You are proud of your work?

A. Yes, sir; I am! (Uttered emphatically.)

John Chinaman is the dirtiest neighbor anyone can have they have their filthy habits from childhood up the moment you cross the borders of Chinatown you experience a peculiar strange smell a sort of combination of opium mixed with tobacco fish and vegetables but unlike anything else you cannot get used to it and a great many people get sick at the first smell of it . . . inflicting a severe headache . . . Many of the buildings in Chinatown are made of brick of American architecture whenever the Chinese get into a building they commence to remodel it and change the appearance of the front putting up queer signs and painting the balconies and front fanciful colors and hanging out curious Chinese lanterns in a few months after they have occupied it the place looks as if it were a hundred years old the walls become blackened up filthy dirty and discolored this applies to the lower class however it must be understood from the start that there are grades of society the same as among other nations . . .

It was in the Sacramento Valley...that a deal of the most lucrative of the early gold mining was done, and you may still see, in places, its grassy slopes and levels torn and guttered and disfigured by the avaricious spoilers of fifteen and twenty years ago. You may see such disfigurements far and wide over California—and in some such places, where only meadows and forests are visible not a living creature, not a house, no stick or stone or remnant of a ruin, and not a sound, not even a whisper to disturb the Sabbath stillness— you will find it hard to believe that there stood at one time a fiercely-flourishing little city, of two thousand or three thousand souls, with its newspaper, fire company, brass band, volunteer militia, bank, hotels, noisy Fourth of July processions and speeches, gambling hells crammed with tobacco smoke, profanity, and rough-bearded men of all nations and colors, with tables heaped with gold dust sufficient for the revenues of a German principality streets crowded and rife with business—town lots worth four hundred dollars a front foot—labor, laughter, music, dancing, swearing, fighting, shooting, stabbing a bloody inquest and a man for breakfast every morning—everything that delights and adorns existence—all the appointments and appurtenances of a thriving and prosperous and promising young city,—and now nothing is left of it all but a lifeless, homeless solitude. The men are gone, the houses have vanished, even the name of the place is forgotten. In no other land, in modern times, have towns so absolutely died and disappeared, as in the old milling regions of California.

It was a driving, vigorous, restless population in those days. It was a curious population. It was the only population of the kind that the world has ever seen gathered together, and it is not likely that the world will ever see its like again. For, observe, it was an assemblage of two hundred thousand young men—not simpering, dainty, kid-gloved weaklings, but stalwart, muscular, dauntless young braves, brim full of push and energy, and royally endowed with every attribute that goes to make up a peerless and magnificent manhood—the very pick and choice of the world's glorious ones. No women, no children, no gray and stooping veterans,—none but erect, bright-eyed, quick-moving, strong-handed young giants—the strangest population, the finest population, the most gallant host that ever trooped down the startled solitudes of an unpeopled land. And where are they now? Scattered to the ends of the earth—or prematurely aged and decrepit—or shot or stabbed in street affrays—or dead of disappointed hopes and broken hearts all gone, or nearly all—victims devoted upon the altar of the golden calf—the noblest holocaust that ever wafted its sacrificial incense heavenward. It is pitiful to think upon.

It was a splendid population—for all the slow, sleepy, sluggish-brained sloths staid at home you never find that sort of people among pioneers— you cannot build pioneers out of that sort of material. It was that population that gave to California a name for getting up astounding enterprises and rushing them through with a magnificent dash and daring and a recklessness of cost or consequences, which she bears unto this day—and when she projects a new surprise, the grave world smiles as usual, and says "Well, that is California all over."

But they were rough in those times! They fairly reveled in gold, whisky, fights, and fandangoes, and were unspeakably happy. The honest miner raked from a hundred to a thousand dollars out of his claim a day, and what with the gambling dens and the other entertainments, he hadn't a cent the next morning, if he had any sort of luck. They cooked their own bacon and beans, sewed on their own buttons, washed their own shirts—blue woolen ones; and if a man wanted a fight on his hands without any annoying delay, all he had to do was to appear in public in a white shirt or a stove-pipe hat, and he would be accommodated. For those people hated aristocrats. They had a particular and malignant animosity toward what they called a "biled shirt."

It was a wild, free, disorderly, grotesque society. Men—only swarming hosts of stalwart men—nothing juvenile, nothing feminine visible anywhere!

In those days miners would flock in crowds to catch a glimpse of that rare and blessed spectacle, a woman! Old inhabitants tell how, in a certain camp, the news went abroad early in the morning that a woman was come! They had seen a calico dress hanging out of a wagon down at the camping-ground— sign of emigrants from over the great Plains. Everybody went down there, and a shout went up when an actual, bona fide dress was discovered fluttering in the wind! The male emigrant was visible. The miners said:

"Fetch her out!"

He said: "It is my wife, gentlemen--she is sick—we have been robbed of money, provisions, everything, by the Indians—we want to rest."

"Fetch her out! We've got to see her!"

"But, gentlemen, the poor thing, she—"

"Fetch her out!"

He "fetched her out," and they swung their hats and sent up three rousing cheers and a tiger; and they crowded around and gazed at her, and touched her dress, and listened to her voice with the look of men who listened to a memory rather than a present reality—and then they collected twenty-five hundred dollars in gold and gave it to the man, and swung their hats again and gave three more cheers, and went home satisfied.

Once I dined in San Francisco with the family of a pioneer, and talked with his daughter, a young lady whose first experience in San Francisco was an adventure, though she herself did not remember it, as she was only two or three years old at the time. Her father said that, after landing the ship, they were walking up the street, a servant leading the party with the little girl in her arms. And presently a huge miner, bearded, belted, spurred, and bristling with deadly weapons—just down from a long campaign in the mountains, evidently—barred the way, stopped the servant, and stood gazing, with a face all alive with gratification and astonishment. Then he said, reverently:

"Well, if it ain't a child! "And then he snatched a little leather sack out of his pocket and said to the servant:

"There's a hundred and fifty dollars in dust, there, and I'll give it to you if you let me kiss the child!"

That anecdote is true.

But see how things change. Sitting at that dinner table, listening to that anecdote, if I had offered double the money for the privilege of kissing the same child, I would have been refused. Seventeen added years have far more than doubled the price.

1. Using the documents in this chapter, write a 1-2 page essay discussing some of the positives and negatives of westward expansion? For example, what was the relationship between whites and Native Americans like in the second half of the nineteenth century? Between whites and the Chinese? You should be sure to use specific examples and quotes from the primary source documents in this chapter.

2. Pretend you are a journalist in the 1860s who has been asked to write an article about whether easterners should move to the west. Take either a pro or con stance on this issue and write your article accordingly (either convince easterners to move west, or convince them not to), being sure to use specific examples and quotes from the primary source documents in this chapter.

3. JOURNAL OPTION: For this chapter of OB, instead of answering Question 1 or 2, you may instead choose to turn in a 2-4 page typed document (double-spaced) with brief notes on each document in the chapter, as well as 5 questions about the chapter’s material. Please see the handout under Files titled “Journal Notes/Questions Guide” for more specific instructions on how to do this properly.

Document 4: American Memory. (1860, February 20). American Memory. Retrieved July 10, 2012, from G.A. Grow, "Free homes for free men": http://memory.loc.gov/cgi-bin/query/r?ammem/ncpm:@field(DOCID%2B@lit(ULA17059886))

Document 8: American Memory. (1940, December 23). American Memory. Retrieved July 10, 2012, from American Life Histories: Manuscripts from the Federal Writers' Project, 1936-1938, Bone Hooks: http://memory.loc.gov/cgi-bin/query/r?ammem/wpa:@field(DOCID+@lit(wpa337091205))

Document 11: American Memory. (c. 1889). American Memory. Retrieved July 10, 2012, from Chinese in California, Boycott Broadside: http://memory.loc.gov/cgi-bin/query/S?ammem/cic:@OR(@field(TITLE+@od1(Boycott!+The+National+Bakers+Union,+No++45+of+Los+Angeles,+does+herewith+inform+all+Workingmen+and+the+Public+that+The+Original+Coffee+House+at+No++11+First+St+,+Feldshaw+&+Hagar,+propr

Document 5: Garside, F. (1995). Populist Women's Perspective. In e. Rosalyn Baxandall and Linda Gordon, America's Working Women: A Documentary History, 1600 to teh Present (pp. 160-163). New York: W.W. Norton.

Document 12: Huntington Library. (1872). Huntington Library. Retrieved July 10, 2012, from Mark Twain, Roughing It: http://www.huntington.org/education/GoldRush/legac/RB47363tran.html

Document 7: Library of Congress. (1870). Library of Congress. Retrieved July 10, 2012, from Exodusters en route to Kansas: www.loc.gov/exhibits/african/afam009.html

Document 10: Library of Congress. (c. 1868). Library of Congress. Retrieved July 10, 2012, from The Chinese in California, 1850-1925: http://www.loc.gov/teachers/classroommaterials/connections/chinese-cal/history2.html

Document 3: PBS.org. (1864). PBS.org. Retrieved July 10, 2012, from New Perspectives on The West, Documents on the Sand Creek Massacre: http://www.pbs.org/weta/thewest/resources/archives/four/sandcrk.htm

Document 9: PBS.org. (1880, April 17). PBS.org. Retrieved July 10, 2012, from New Perspectives on The West, Testimony of Benjamin Singleton: http://www.pbs.org/weta/thewest/resources/archives/seven/w67singl.htm

Document 6: sangres.com. (1876, January 2). sangres.com. Retrieved July 10, 2012, from Cathay Williams, Female Buffalo Soldier: http://www.sangres.com/history/cwilliams/stlouistimes01.htm

Document 1: Smithsonian. (1867; 1929). Smithsonian. Retrieved July 10, 2012, from Santana, Chief of the Kiowas and Chief Luther Standing Bear, My People, the Sioux: http://www.smithsoniansource.org/display/primarysource/viewdetails.aspx?TopicId=&PrimarySourceId=1018 ; http://www.smithsoniansource.org/display/primarysource/viewdetails.aspx?TopicId=&PrimarySourceId=1020

Document 2: teachushistory.org. (1851). teachushistory.org. Retrieved July 10, 2012, from Westward Expansion, "More Indian Outrage": http://www.teachushistory.org/Westward/ps-outrage.htm

1 Alan Brinkley, The Unfinished Nation: A Concise History of the American People (McGraw Hill: New York, 1996), 454.

2 Brinkley, 459.

3 Santana, Chief of the Kiowas, 1867. U.S. Bureau of Ethnography Annual Report, 17th, 1895-96; Chief Luther Standing Bear, My People, the Sioux (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1929).

4 N.a., “More Indian Outrage,” The Frontier Guardian, 1851.

5 N.a., “The Battle of Sand Creek,” and “The Fort Lyon Affair,” Rocky Mountain News, 1864.

6 Aaron G. Grown, “Free homes for free men,” in the House of Representatives, February 29, 1860.

7 Frances Garside, “Populist Women’s Perspective,” in Rosalyn Baxandall and Linda Gordon, eds., America’s Working Women: A Documentary History, 1600 to the Present (New York: W.W. Norton, 1995), 160-163.

8 Cathay Williams, “My Father was a freeman…,” told in Trinidad, printed in the St. Louis Daily Times, January 2, 1876.

9 “Negro Exodusters en route to Kansas, fleeing from the yellow fever,” Photojournal from engraving. Harpers Weekly, 1870. Historic American Building Survey Field Records, HABS FN-6 #KS -49-11, Prints and Photographs Division (106).

10 Bones Hooks interview, December 23, 1940.

11 Testimony of Benjamin Singleton, Washington, DC, April 17, 1880, before the Senate Select Committee Investigating the “Negro Exodus from the Southern States.”

12 George Morris, “The Chinaman as he is: From Miscellaneous Selections,” c. 1868.

13 The National Bakers Union, No. 45, “Boycott!,” c. 1889.

14 Mark Twain, Roughing It, Chicago, IL: 1872.

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