David Crockett: The Lion of the West

by Michael Wallis

  The object of this letter, is to beg that you will accept the watch . . . as it has his name engraved on the surface, it will no doubt be the more acceptable to you. With his open frankness, his natural honesty of expression, his perfect want of concealment, I could not but be very much pleased. And with a hope that it might be an accommodation to him, I was gratified at the exchange, as it gave me a keepsake which would often remind me of an honest man, a good citizen and a pioneer in the cause of liberty, amongst his suffering brethren in Texas.23

  Elizabeth was grateful, for she and Crockett’s kinfolk had no one to bury. Just hours after the fall of the Alamo, the bodies of approximately 183 defenders were laid in layers on a large pile of wood and dry branches and the pyre was set ablaze.24 Left with many unanswered questions, the family went ahead, just as Crockett would have done. Robert Patton Crockett, the oldest son from Elizabeth’s first marriage, went to Texas in 1838 and joined the new republic’s army. John Wesley Crockett went to the U.S. Congress in 1837 and served two terms, representing his father’s former district. He was able to push through the passage of a land bill similar to the measure Crockett had long championed. By 1854, Elizabeth was finally granted the “league of land” promised to Crockett as his share for serving as a Texas soldier. She and some of the family moved to Texas and built a good cabin. Elizabeth wore black every day until her own death, in 1860.25 She died never knowing for sure how her husband had been killed on the morning of March 6, 1836, at the Alamo.

  Indeed, no one knows with any certainty how David Crockett died. His death has been obscured by legend, with accounts and theories of his death including scenarios both implausible and ludicrous. The two adult survivors, Travis’s slave Joe and Susannah Wilkerson Dickinson, had managed to stay hidden during the battle. Both of them independently claimed that, after the fighting stopped, they saw Crockett lying dead and mutilated with the corpses of Mexican soldiers all around him. Neither of them saw or knew how or when Crockett was killed. Nonetheless, the popular press and dime novelists used these accounts to perpetuate the Crockett myth.26

  One popular theory was that Crockett died while swinging old Betsey over his head. Some claimed that Crockett donned a disguise and snuck away from the Alamo like a sniveling coward. Still others believed Crockett was among a gang of fifty or more defenders who tried to escape the doomed mission only to be cut down by Mexican cavalry. Stories appeared claiming that reports of Crockett’s death were false. An Ohio newspaper stated that Crockett was discovered alive among a stack of Texians executed by the Mexican troops and was taken to a private residence, where his wounds were dressed and he was making a successful recovery: “He had received a severe gash with a tomahawk on the upper part of his forehead, a ball in his leg, and another through one of his thighs, besides several other minor wounds.”27 In 1840, four years after the battle, a Texas newspaper published an account of William C. White, who maintained that he had seen “with his own eyes in the mines of Gendelejera [Guadalajara], in Mexico our own immortal CROCKETT, and heard from his own lips an account of his escape from the massacre at the Alamo.”28 As late as 1893, the New York Times reported that San Antonio policemen saw Col. Crockett at the Alamo after it had been converted into a subpolice station. The bold headline read, davy crockett’s “ghost.” According to the report, on rainy, dismal nights Crockett and “the spirits of those who lost their lives within…hold a levee in the upper rooms of the structure.” Especially troubling were the loud sounds that sounded like dancing and an apparition in the place where Crockett lost his life.29

  Gen. Sam Houston spelled out what may be the most likely scenario soon after the fall of the Alamo. In a dispatch sent March 11 to Col. James Fannin, Houston broke the news of the deaths of all of the defenders and stated, “After the fort was carried seven men surrendered, and called for Santa Anna, and for quarter. They were murdered by his order.”30 Although Houston did not mention Crockett by name, his letter adds credence to the persistent rumor that at least seven individuals were taken captive and summarily executed. Another reference to prisoners being executed appeared in 1837, when Ramón Martínez Caro, Santa Anna’s secretary, wrote that Gen. Manuel Fernández Castrillón had discovered five men hiding inside the Alamo after it had been taken by Mexican troops. Instead of immediately killing them, the general ordered the captives taken before Santa Anna, who reprimanded Castrillón for disobeying his command to give no quarter and take no prisoners. Santa Anna then turned his back while soldiers killed the prisoners. “We all witnessed this outrage which humanity condemns but which was committed as described,” wrote Martínez Caro. “This is a cruel truth, but I cannot omit it.”

  Almost 140 years after the fact, the strongest source of proof of Crockett’s death emerged. In 1975, the memoir of a Mexican army officer serving under Santa Anna at the Alamo, which had come to light in Mexico in 1955, at the height of the Disney-inspired Crockett television series, was first translated into English. The 680-page diary, written by José Enrique de la Peña, supported the claims that Crockett was one of seven survivors captured by Mexican soldiers and executed by order of General Santa Anna:

  Some seven men survived the general carnage and, under the protection of General Castrillón, they were brought before Santa Anna. Among them was one of great stature, well proportioned, with regular features, in whose face was the imprint of adversity, but in whom one also noticed a degree of resignation and nobility that did him honor. He was the naturalist David Crockett, well known in North America for his unusual adventures, who had undertaken to explore the country and who, finding himself in Bejar at the very moment of surprise, had taken refuge in the Alamo, fearing that his status as a foreigner might not be respected. Santa Anna answered Castrillón’s intervention in Crockett’s behalf with a gesture of indignation and, addressing himself to the sappers, the troops closest to him, ordered his execution. The commanders and officers were outraged at this action and did not support the order, hoping that once the fury of the moment had blown over these men would be spared; but several officers who were around the president and who, perhaps, had not been present during the danger, became noteworthy by an infamous deed, surpassing the soldiers in cruelty. They thrust themselves forward, in order to flatter their commander, and with swords in hand, fell upon these unfortunate, defenseless men just as a tiger leaps upon his prey. Though tortured before they were killed, these unfortunates died without complaining and without humiliating themselves before their torturers.31

  Publication of the Peña narrative in the United States set off an avalanche of controversy in Texas and beyond. The many staunch defenders of the popular and romanticized image of the Alamo and Crockett were livid and not only challenged the diary but insisted it was a forgery. A rush of articles and books either defending the historic document or attacking it followed. Despite careful expert examination of the narrative and the declaration of a University of Texas forgery professional that the memoir appeared to be authentic, many skeptics were still unconvinced.32 They could not accept Peña’s explanation of Crockett’s death and continued to refer to it as the most famous unsolved homicide in history.

  For the many scholars and Crockett researchers every bit as devoted to the historic figure as those in love with the myth, the overwhelming evidence supports the Peña narrative. And in the end, does it truly matter how Crockett died? Is his death less noteworthy or dramatic? As longtime Crockett scholar Paul Hutton notes:

  He died as he had lived, boldly facing his opponents with unflinching determination to be sure he was right—and then go ahead! That he did not fall at the height of battle, ringed by the men he had slain with his clubbed rifle and knife, is of no consequence. Such a death would have been out of character with his life. He was no warrior chieftain—no combination of Beowulf and Roland—but was rather a pioneer turned politician who came to symbolize western egalitarianism and unbridled opportunity.33

  To those who claim that God made Texas, one may say that, f
iguratively, Crockett invented Texas. His blood and the blood of all who died with him transformed the Alamo into an American cultural icon, affecting economic and political conditions in Texas and beyond. The oft-used battle cry “Remember the Alamo!”—employed just weeks later by Sam Houston to inspire his force when they captured General Santa Anna and defeated the Mexican army at San Jacinto—still reverberates through history and culture. For many Anglo Texans and others, those three words conjure images of patriotic heroes, unabashed sacrifice, and love of liberty.

  The Alamo remains the most instantly recognized battle in American history, with the possible exception of Gettysburg. It has been said that not until the Battle of the Little Big Horn and the death of George Armstrong Custer forty years after the Alamo would Americans have a more vainglorious event to rally around. Texans also used the Alamo and the revolt against Mexico to establish a republic and, later, a state that they believed unique and more special than any other. In 1845, when the Republic of Texas gave up its sovereignty to become the biggest state in the Union, it did so with the caveat—depending on whose interpretation of the Texas Constitution is followed—that it could secede at any time and split into five separate entities, thus creating four new states.34 The strong belief among many Texans was that their independence—their Lone Star status—had been bought and paid for at the Alamo.

  Crockett’s death sums up the single most important aspect of his brief stay in Texas. His contribution to the Lone Star State resulted not so much from how he lived but how he died. His impact on Texas derives precisely from his death in that battered Spanish mission. In death he turned into an even more marketable commodity than he had been in life, and the Alamo eventually would become the state’s biggest tourist attraction and one of the most popular historic sites in the nation.

  Crockett’s death helped fuel the flames of rebellion against Mexico and also made him a celebrated martyr for the cause. This contributed to the creation of the prideful, sometimes bellicose, stereotypical image of swaggering, boastful Texans bursting with superlatives and pride when describing the land they love. Crockett’s demise also helped turn the Alamo into the “Cradle of Texas Liberty” and a monument to Anglo westward expansion that became known as Manifest Destiny.

  There was the David Crockett of historical fact, and there is the Davy Crockett of our collective imagination. The first was a man who led a most interesting and colorful life. The other is the American myth, featuring Crockett as a symbolic figure with superhuman powers; in this version, Crockett is frequently used by others to promote their own interests. Both Crockett and the Alamo remain ensnared in clouds of myth.

  In the end, Crockett was a uniquely American character and a formidable hero in his own right. He should not be judged by his death but rather by his life—including the good and the bad and the shades of gray. Consider him as a legend and a hero, but always bear in mind that he was a man willing to take a risk. That was what he symbolized and that is how he should be remembered.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Writing a book is ultimately a solitary act. But the process of getting to the point of the actual writing and all that transpires after a manuscript is completed is far from solitary. This book—my sixteenth—was no exception. It took many people besides me to get the job done. Each of them was important, many were essential, and a few of them were so invaluable that without them this book would never have been written.

  Two people who absolutely fit in that last category are Suzanne Fitzgerald Wallis and Joseph A. Swann. That is why I dedicated the book to them. This gesture is but a small token of my appreciation to both of them.

  Suzanne is my life partner, best friend, lover, and chief collaborator. Her wisdom, diligence, and encouragement are largely responsible for this book as well as for all the others I have written and those yet to come. Suzanne, with assistance from our quirky feline muse, Sophie, is there for me every day whether I deserve it or not.

  Joe Swann not only acted as a tireless guide and excellent source of knowledge about all things Crockett but also unselfishly shared his entire unpublished manuscript detailing Crockett’s many years spent in Tennessee. The voice and vision of Joe Swann echoes throughout much of this book. Joe showed me places and led me to people that I would not have found on my own. He and his lovely wife, Rebecca, the epitome of a gracious Tennessean, nourished my mind and body at their comfortable home. I will never forget their hospitality and kindness.

  Another person who figured prominently in the development of this book is James Fitzgerald. Jim is my literary agent and also happens to be one my wife’s trio of Irish brothers. Jim and I have known each other for more than forty years. At times we also have been known to battle like a pair of boar bears, but I always know that ultimately I can count on Jim, one of the savviest individuals in the strange and sometimes turbulent world of publishing.

  As they have done in the past with my other books they have published, the entire editorial, design, marketing, and promotional team at W. W. Norton is once more to be commended for helping make this book a reality. Robert Weil, my esteemed editor, was at the helm of this effort and was there for me every single step of the way. Throughout my career as an author I have been fortunate to encounter some topflight editors. All of them play second fiddle to Bob Weil. He is bar none the most diligent, driven, and dedicated editor drawing breath today. I defy anyone to tell me otherwise. Likewise, Bob’s hardworking assistants—in the case of this book, Lucas Wittmann and Phil Marino—never let me down. Both of these young men have learned well from Bob, a proven mentor whose long line of editorial assistants from over the years have gone on to much success in publishing.

  During the long research and writing process, I also was fortunate to have happened upon other knowledgeable and helpful sons and daughters of Tennessee. Much like Joe and Becky Swann, these people opened their hearts and homes to me and made the development of this book much more enjoyable. Two Tennesseans at the top of this list are Jere Ellis and Jim Claborn. Jere took care of me in West Tennessee, and Jim was one of my primary guides in East Tennessee. Both men deserve medals on their chests for their assistance.

  Jere resides at Blue Cut near Tiptonville, Tennessee, not far from one of David Crockett’s favorite hunting sites at Reelfoot Lake. Beside staying active in his community and taking the time to show authors the secret places and hidden corners of Crockett’s former stomping grounds, Jere maintains the Eagle Tree Gallery, where his vast inventory of museum-quality Southwestern Indian art, crafts, and artifacts attracts people from all over the country. Unquestionably, this book would not have been the same without the assistance and input I received from Jere. Thank you, my friend, for your graciousness and guidance, and also a special thanks for introducing me to Boyette’s, a dining oasis since 1921 that consistently turns out catfish, hush puppies, and coleslaw to die for.

  Jim Claborn, who hails from Talbott, a small community near Morristown, Tennessee, the site of the Crockett Tavern Museum, was recommended to me when I sought out people with a passion for history to show me the ropes in “Crockett Country” of eastern Tennessee. Jim is an accomplished historian and teacher, but most of all he is a masterful storyteller. Together with another excellent teacher and historian, Bill Henderson, Jim coauthored Hamblen County, Tennessee: A Pictorial History, and he often portrays Crockett in full costume for a variety of audiences. His guidance and infusion of information and knowledge was of great help to me. Thanks, my friend.

  I was fortunate to have a pair of capable and resourceful researchers helping me every step of the way. In Knoxville, Tennessee, the research assignment went to Kevin Pettiford, a fine journalist and freelance writer, who prowled and probed archives, libraries, and museums in my behalf. Kevin never came up empty-handed, and I appreciate not only his consistency and hard work but his ability to go over and beyond when it came to finding those elusive morsels of the past that often remain undiscovered.

  On the home front, I
was fortunate to have the research assistance of William “Trey” Stewart, a native Tulsan who started his work with me just prior to his senior year at Middlebury College in Vermont. Trey is also a self-starter, who required very little direction once a task was assigned to him. A dedicated student of American history and a fine developing writer, Trey is also a sturdy rugby player, which helps explain the tenacity and dogged persistence he demonstrated in all of his fine work for me. Also, special thanks to Anne Payne, a good friend and neighbor who put in untold hours helping Suzanne gather photographs, images, and permissions for the book.

  Speaking of support at home while laboring over Mister Crockett, our dear friends Sue and Steve Gerkin as always were there every minute along the way to offer moral support and encouragement. Many thanks to you, Tex and Spud. I am very grateful for our friendship.

  Before writing one word of this book, I conferred with Paul Andrew Hutton, a distinguished professor of history at the University of New Mexico and the former president of Western Writers of America and executive director of the Western History Association. Like me, Paul has an affinity for Henry McCarty, aka Billy the Kid, as well as for David Crockett. In fact, Paul has been laboring on his own book about Crockett for many years. I am so grateful to him for encouraging me to proceed with my book and also for providing me with several contacts who proved to be important sources and fonts of information about Crockett and his times.

  Others who merit mention and my profound thanks include Sally A. Baker, site director, Crockett Tavern Museum, Morristown, Tennessee; Cherel Bolin Henderson, director, and Lisa Oakley, curator of education, East Tennessee Historical Society, Knoxville; Steve Cotham, manager, C. M. McClung Historical Collection, Knox County Public Library, Knoxville, Tennessee; Robert D. Jarnagin, Dandridge, Tennessee; Lura B. Hinchey, director, and Ernie Hodges and Bobby Shands, volunteers, Jefferson County Archives, Dandridge, Tennessee; Strawberry Luck, Tennessee State Museum, Nashville, Tennessee; Nick Wyman, Research Services, Special Collections Library, University of Tennessee, Knoxville; Joe Bone, manager, Last Home of Davy Crockett Museum, Rutherford, Tennessee; Joy Bland, historian, Direct Descendants and Kin of David Crockett; Tennessee State Library and Archives, Nashville; Michael A. Lofaro, professor of American studies and American literature, University of Tennessee, Knoxville; William B. Eigelsbach, Reference Services, University of Tennessee Special Collections Library, Hoskins Library, Knoxville; National Society of Colonial Dames of America in the State of Tennessee; Gert Petersen and the Franklin County Historical Society, Winchester, Tennessee; State of Tennessee Department of Education, Nashville; Lawrence County (Tennessee) Historical Society; The Mid-West Tennessee Genealogical Society, Jackson, Tennessee; Tennessee Historical Commission, Nashville; Lake County (Tennessee) Historical Society; Joe and Bernadine Widdifield, Panther Springs, Tennessee.