An Old Timey Podcast - 66: Warnings and Lies: The Deception of the Donner Party (Part 2)
Episode Date: August 6, 2025The Donner Party was at a crossroads. They’d made good progress on their journey to California, but they were still about a week behind schedule. Lansford Hasting’s new shortcut appealed to the wo...rried group. But an experienced explorer warned them against it. The man told them that the shortcut might kill them.They didn’t listen.Remember, kids, history hoes always cite their sources! For this episode, Kristin pulled from: “The Indifferent Stars Above: The Harrowing Saga of a Donner Party Bride,” by Daniel James Brown“The Best Land Under Heaven: The Donner Party in the Age of Manifest Destiny,” by Michael WallisThe documentary, “The Donner Party”“How the Donner Party was doomed by a disastrous shortcut,” by Erin Blakemore for History.com“Lansford Hastings, the Donner Party, and the Civil War,” by Elizabeth Eisenstark for the National Museum of Civil War Medicine“The deadly temptation of the Oregon Trail shortcut,” by Laura Kiniry for atlasobscura.comAre you enjoying An Old Timey Podcast? Then please leave us a 5-star rating and review wherever you listen to podcasts!Are you *really* enjoying An Old Timey Podcast? Well, calm down, history ho! You can get more of us on Patreon at patreon.com/oldtimeypodcast. At the $5 level, you’ll get a monthly bonus episode (with video!), access to our 90’s style chat room, plus the entire back catalog of bonus episodes from Kristin’s previous podcast, Let’s Go To Court.
Transcript
Discussion (0)
Here ye, hear ye.
You are listening to an old-timey podcast.
I'm Kristen Caruso.
And I'm Normie C.
And on this episode, I'll be talking about the Donner Party, part two.
Are we hitting the terrible shit in this episode?
Well, you know, it's not great, but it's not too bad.
Not bad.
I mean, when you...
They only eat one person in this episode.
No, no, no, no.
It's just, um...
This series...
Wow, you really saved yourself.
there.
I had to, yeah.
This series is just going to get worse and worse.
I just, I feel like our listeners, our history hoes are waiting with faded breath for the gruesome shit.
So always want to ask.
Yeah.
No, you can, this episode is, um, hmm.
How do we put it?
This episode isn't all chuckles and giggles.
Okay.
But there will be some chuckles and some giggles.
on a chuck wagon.
Wow.
But before we get to all that, Norm, do you have a plug for us?
Yeah, I sure do.
Folks, I hope everyone had a happy Colorado Day last week.
You know, Kristen and I celebrated Colorado Day.
We fired up the grill.
We had some sprinklers.
We shot off some really loud fireworks on the street.
And neighbors were really confused because, you know,
we live in Missouri, and they were wondering.
why we were celebrating Colorado Day.
Uh-huh.
But you know, Kristen, I think it's important that we celebrate each other's accomplishments.
Where the hell is this going?
And for those of you listening out there, if you want to celebrate our accomplishments,
maybe you should consider supporting this small, sexy, independent podcast over on patreon.com
slash old-timey podcast.
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Thank you.
Well done, Norm.
See, you were wondering where that was going, huh?
I really, really was.
But I like that you invited everyone to celebrate our accomplishments.
Absolutely.
Unfortunately, I do have to start this episode off on a very shameful note, as you know.
Could you cue up the sound, please?
Everyone, in last week's episode, I made not one but two mistakes of shame.
Wow.
Who pointed these errors out to me?
That would be my husband, who,
um actuallyed me last Saturday morning with his whole chest.
Here we go.
How embarrassing for you, Kristen.
Mistakes of shame.
I can tell you're really feeling the shame.
So what do you got?
The first error?
Well, I said that James Reed fought in the Black Hawk War alongside Abraham Lincoln,
Stephen Douglas, and Mountain Man James Climing.
Argue.
That's a pirate.
If you think our listeners can't tell the difference between a mountain man and a pirate, you're dead wrong, sir.
Folks, it is with great shame that I tell you that although some of those men did fight in the Black Hawk War,
technically James Reed, Abraham Douglas, Steve, oh God.
Oh, well, let's add another mistake shame here.
Oh, shut up.
A mistake within the segment.
That's right.
Technically, James Reed, Abraham Lincoln, Stephen Douglas, and Mountain Man Yerg, James Clyman,
were part of a state-run militia that came together in the immediate aftermath of the Black Hawk War.
Okay, boy is my face red.
All right, I regret the error.
Now it's time for my face to go crimson.
In our last episode, I made fun of the Reed family's wagon.
I referred to it as a two-story monstrosity, complete with a cast iron stove, bunk beds, cushioned seats, the works.
I said it took eight oxen to pull it.
I called it Pimp My Ride Wagon Edition.
It's a great joke.
Well, Norm sent me a link to a website that's so old that it looks like it should play music.
Hey, that's a good joke, too.
It did look like a GeoCity's webpage.
It looked terrible.
And though I hate to admit it, the author of that website, capital W, two words, brought up a very good point that although, yes, the Reed family's wagon was very nice and was nicer than most other wagons, it probably wasn't two stories tall.
The basis for that rumor came from a memoir written by one of the Donner Party survivors, and it seems to have been exaggerated over time and then repeated by like every,
resource I read for this. So what we can say is that the reeds did have a noticeably luxurious
wagon complete with an iron stove, bunk beds, cushion seats, the works. But as the author of my new
favorite website pointed out, if it had really been a two-story wagon, other survivors,
and other people on the trail would have talked about it. Yeah, except nobody ever did.
Listener, lean in closer, please. I think it goes without.
saying that I hated to hear all that logic and reasoning when I'd already dreamed up so many
sick wagon jokes for this episode. And yet, we here at an old-timey podcast must own our mistakes
even when our shame is big enough to fill a two-story wagon. This has been another shameful
segment of mistakes of shame.
Very good, Kristen. Can we hear some of those wagon jokes? I know you probably cut most of them, but we'd love to hear them.
You know, they were mostly in my noggin and so technically not written down, but still, we mourn the loss of them, don't we?
Yeah, more so more of a improv wagon bit, huh?
More of a, I hadn't actually done the work, and yet I mourned it anyway.
Gotcha, gotcha, gotcha.
Okay, are we ready to get going?
Yeah, let's dive into the Donner Party again.
Previously, on an old-timey podcast.
We learned that in the mid-1800s, Americans headed out west.
Twas their manifest destiny, baby!
But that covered wagon journey was a tough one.
It took four to six months, across deserts and mountains and the Great Plains.
It was dangerous, and timing was everything.
So, when an irresponsible douche canoe named Lanceford Hastings,
touted a shortcut designed to save 300 miles off the journey? Well, some folks just couldn't resist it.
Lanceford wrote about that shortcut in his racist, poorly written bestseller about immigrating out West.
The only problem was he hadn't actually tested the shortcut himself. Whoops!
So, one year after publishing his book, Lancford decided it might be time for him to finally test
out the shortcut he'd been touting. And in the meantime, three families left their homes in Springfield,
Illinois in search of a better life in California. Those three families would be the center of what
would one day be known as the Donner Party. They were the families of George and Tamsin Donner,
Jacob and Elizabeth Donner, and James and Margaret Reed. Those families were hopeful, optimistic,
and they had a copy of Lansford Hastings book to guide them along their way.
In this week's episode, the Reeds and the Donners get going.
Okay.
Nice little stroll.
Oh, yeah, it was real easy.
You're going to want to look out for blisters.
That's really the only thing you need to worry about.
I got a wicked blister on my big toe right now.
Gross.
I'm sorry.
As your wife, oh, no, what's wrong?
Yeah, how about a little sympathy for me, not gross.
Oh my goodness.
It took them a couple weeks, but by mid-May of 1846, the Reeds and the Donners had made it to Independence, Missouri.
So when we drive to Lansing, we passed through Springfield, Illinois, and it's like a five-hour car ride.
Uh-huh.
It's just amazing, like, how much faster transportation is these days.
Yeah, I think these folks were really stupid because they should have just gotten in their cars and driven that whole way.
Okay, that's not what I'm saying.
That's not what I'm saying.
These days, Independence, Missouri is best known for having a Cheddar's that's particularly
close to the Costco.
But back then, it was known as the Queen City of the Trails.
For most folks, Independence was the official start of their journey on the California or Oregon
trails.
And it did not disappoint.
The city was bustling.
It was the place for all your wagon trail needs.
tools, food, medicine, spare parts for your wagon, items to trade with Native Americans.
People purchased oxen, horses, dogs.
They asked for advice.
They hired teamsters to help drive their wagon.
And uh-oh, is your leg bothering you?
Is your fanger giving you trouble?
You're in luck, pal.
Doctors and independence made a killing, amputating anything that ailed you before you set off on your big adventure.
So they could have taken care of this blister on my big toe.
Yep, just cut that whole thing.
Put right off, problem solved.
Just job it off, Doc.
It's really bothering me.
Yeah, you know, that really lines up with the Oregon Trail video game.
That's where you start your journey in the video game and you buy all your supplies and stuff.
You know, I think it's really sweet that people think I read anything about the Donner Party for this series.
I actually just played Oregon Trail and made some shit up.
Oh, that's...
And it's surprisingly accurate.
It's certainly a way to make this episode.
It was exciting and a little intimidated.
But the reeds and donners didn't stay in independence for long.
They knew that on their journey out west, timing was of the essence.
Mm-hmm.
So, like so many others, they took off down that old dusty trail.
But wow, they got off to a bad start.
Oh, I think I know what happens.
Oh, oh yeah.
Norm, please do exactly what you did last week where you're like,
um, actually, and then you just tell the rest of my story for me.
What do you think happens next, Norm?
Everyone, Norm's going to take over this series.
If I recall.
Oh, boy.
Uh-huh.
Okay.
Bleep all of that.
Bleep all of it.
And for the video version, I'm going to need you to cover your mouth.
Okay.
Jesus.
Hey, don't tell me how to edit an old-timey podcast.
I'm the editor, damn it.
Joe's on vacation this week.
And so I'm giving my orders to you, sir.
Damn.
Okay.
So they got off to a bad start.
They left Independence.
when they were supposed to at a time when, in theory, the rain should have stopped, but it didn't.
They encountered thunderstorm after thunderstorm. The storms kept them up at night. And to make things
worse, all that rain turned the trail into mud, mud that was really hard to navigate in their
big, heavy wagons. The oxen worked overtime. The journey was slow. I'm sorry, I just pictured
an oxen punching a time clock, but you know, okay, anyway.
Everybody was still fine, though.
It was the beginning of their journey.
They'd make up time somehow.
Yeah, sure.
It was funny.
They had hope, but they also had anxiety.
Life on the trail was dangerous.
It was scary to be out there kind of alone.
The Donners and the Reeds knew that what they needed was to become part of a good wagon train.
Wagon trains were like roaming societies.
The good ones had rules.
They elected leaders.
They kicked people out when need be.
When a wagon train worked as it should, people helped one another.
They supported one another.
They offered safety.
But like any good sorority during rush week, they were selective.
You can't wear a tank top two days in a row.
You can only wear your hair in a ponytail one.
Once a week.
Only wear jeans or track pants on Fridays.
If you break any of these rules, you can't be part of our wagon train, Norman.
That doesn't seem accurate at all, and we may have to fact check this.
Yeah, it was kind of like a roaming village.
Yeah.
Yeah.
That's the perfect way to describe it.
You can also just quote the movie Mean Girls, and people will also get the point.
Exactly.
Luckily, even though they were moving more slowly than they wanted to, the Reads and Donners caught up.
with what seemed like a great wagon train.
At the time, it was called the Russell Caravan,
because the elected leader was a guy named William Owl Russell.
His middle name was Owl?
His nickname was Owl.
Oh, okay.
He was pretty decent guy.
Yeah.
Also, you know, a little pompous.
Mm-hmm.
Also, a bit of a name dropper.
Norm, he wanted everyone to know that he was BFFs
with former Cormers.
Secretary of State, Henry Clay.
Ever heard of him?
Henry Clay, the man that wouldn't die.
Okay, I only saw one picture of him.
He does look old as shit.
Okay.
When we were taking U.S. history in high school, you know, we were going through the
textbook of the history.
The textbook of the history.
Couldn't have said it better myself.
And it felt like on every page, Henry Clay was doing something.
and so me and my friend were like, this dude lived forever.
He, I mean, he was involved in like everything from the early 1800s all the way up to the Civil War.
Now, Norm, I've got a question for you.
Did the textbook of history include that he was BFFs with Al Russell here?
Because that's pretty important.
Who?
Who?
Norm, that's the perfect segue to how he got his.
nickname. Oh, excellent. According to what is almost certainly a story that was made up to make
fun of this man's pompous attitude, legend has it that one time he went out into the woods
just hunting, and he heard some owls. And he responded quite loudly,
why, it is I, Colonel William Henry Russell of Kentucky, a bosom friend of Henry Clay.
Oh, was he serious about that?
I think that's just a story made up about him,
but the point is that the nickname stuck,
which is pretty damn funny and reveals a lot about him as a person.
I love it.
Don't give me that face.
I think it's hilarious.
It's a story that didn't need to be included in this script,
and yet here it is, being read to you against your will.
It is 100% made up.
I have heard that's a very similar story about some Civil War soldiers.
There's no way that's real
Who knows how he got the name owl
Well no it's a joke to make fun of him
Of course it didn't really happen
The guy would be such a moron
Hey go easy on William Russell
Okay he's leading a caravan now
His name is owl Russell
Okay
Man he must have really been
BFFs with Henry Clay
Huh
Well he certainly wanted you to know about it
Sometimes I wonder if Henry Clay is still alive
Storm, I almost spat iced coffee into the microphone.
So you saw a picture of Henry Clay, right?
Well, yeah, the guys are old decrepit rotting.
Yes, Henry Clay.
God bless, my goodness.
I think he fought in the Revolutionary War.
He declared war in England for the War of 1812.
I think he invented Clay.
Yeah, he created Manifest Destiny, probably.
I think he's the one who drank the rest of our almond milk.
I think he's responsible for all kinds of stuff.
Did I finish the almond milk?
No, that was just a joke.
I was wondering.
Henry Clay did that, Norm.
Come on, keep up.
Al Russell wasn't the only VIP in this caravan.
Panthea Grant Boone was there.
She was the granddaughter of Daniel Boone.
Holy shit.
Now that's a celebrity.
And don't forget her husband,
former governor of Missouri,
and assassination attempt survivor,
Lilburn Boggs.
I'm familiar with this guy.
Oh, my God.
There are certain sections in the script, Norm where I'm like, look out for Norm.
He's going to just try to come in and steal the story.
And I was like, as soon as he hears the name, Lilburn Boggs, my husband's going to get very excited.
That's right.
I mean, when you mentioned Lincoln, when you mentioned Lincoln last episode, I had a full on iraction the whole time.
Lilburn Boggs really added some spice to the caravan because he was scared, scared of
Mormons. See, a few years earlier, he'd issued Missouri Executive Order 44, which stated that,
quote, the Mormons must be treated as enemies and must be exterminated or driven from the state
if necessary for the public peace. Their outrages are beyond all description.
That's right, and it wasn't repealed until the 70s.
That's true. Yep.
Yep. Pretty wild stuff, huh?
Now, weirdly, the Mormons didn't take too kindly to the extermination order.
And so one day, Norm's favorite person, Lelburn, was sitting at home near a window when someone from outside the house fired at him.
Boom, boom, boom, boom.
Oh, M.G.
Lilburn Boggs was shot twice in the head and twice in the neck.
In fact, he swallowed one of the bullets.
Oh.
And he survived.
Oh, that's crazy.
I don't know what was happening with guns back then, but that's ridiculous.
And now, just a few years later, he was out on the trail, still feeling like an important
dude, but also in a more real sense, feeling like a very scared dude, because Lilburn
wanted to go out west, but he also knew that the Mormons were headed out west, kind of because
he'd helped force them to do so.
And he was real jumpy about some dude coming up and paper cutting him to death with the Book of
Mormon. You imagine the Mormons waiting for him? Well, well, well, if it isn't Lilburn.
Hey, bitch! Although, you know, Mormons I have met have been like a really not cursing, so they probably
wouldn't say, hey, bitch. No. I'm not sure what they would say, but you know, yeah, turns out
there are occupational hazards for trying to start a genocide. Who knew? So the reeds and donners
wanted to be part of this wagon train, and luckily they were brought into the fold.
Yay!
No, what'd they have to do?
What was the initiation?
They had to spank each other.
Oh, I don't know.
Spank each other.
We had initiation for band camp.
You did?
Yeah.
What'd you have to do?
Oh, it was stupid.
We all, like, stood out in a field, and they, like, rubbed nasty stuff on us, like, mustard and, you know, in our hair and face and stuff.
Oh, okay.
Yeah, it was stupid.
But no one was like hurt.
No, no.
Okay.
Nothing like that.
All right.
I was in my high school yearbook and newspaper and literary club.
And believe it or not, we didn't have any kind of hazing ritual for that kind of contact sport.
Oh, man.
I figured you guys would write haikus.
Who can write the funniest haiku?
Who can write the meanest journal entry and read it aloud in front of the whole class?
The meanest headline.
the school newspaper.
The Russell Caravan
offered a real mix of people.
There were a lot of single dudes
who had been hired to help drive the wagons
or just wanted a fresh start out west.
And of course, there were families.
Tons of families.
In those early days on the trail,
people were tense.
They worried about the pace.
They worried way too much
about running into Native Americans.
Oh my God, they're scary,
but we're really nice.
Mm-hmm.
That is definitely a stereotype that Native Americans were dangerous to people on the trail.
But that, and that was all perpetuated in books, like, trail guides and like, be careful, watch out.
Mm-hmm.
Mm-hmm.
There's a reason we have to genocide these folks.
We don't want to.
We just have to because they're so mean.
Yeah.
Folks jockeyed for power.
They argued.
And then they arrived at the big blue river.
Oh.
The Big Blue River.
It's out near what is now Manhattan, Kansas.
And these days, the Big Blue River only has three stars on Google.
And I think the members of the Russell Caravan would agree with that rating.
Because when they got there, they were like, what the hell?
Why is it so high?
Oh, right, the rain.
Mm-hmm.
See, under normal conditions, they would have been able to find the shallowest part of the river
and, you know, slowly and carefully take their wagons through it.
Norm, what do we call that?
Forting a river?
Very good.
Oh, he's so good.
Oh.
But all those rainstorms had brought the river up higher,
and so it was no longer possible to Chevrolet the river.
Chevrolet the River.
That was such a stupid joke.
I regretted it immediately.
The Chevrolet the River?
Yeah, because, you know, Ford the River, Chevy.
Oh.
Wow!
It was really stupid.
But you didn't get it?
I guess I didn't.
I thought you were saying like...
It was too sophisticated.
Oh, because Chevy makes the best truck, so...
So only a Chevy vehicle could get across this river.
Yeah, Norm.
Chevy reached out to me, and they wanted to sponsor this episode.
I really wish you had told me about this.
It's a big deal.
Yeah, because I was like, why not Jeep the river?
That'd be a way better joke.
Norm, we're not allowed to mention their competitors in this ad.
And this whole episode is an ad.
So they were no longer able to Ford the River.
We're going to smart car the river.
Oh, God.
You're a goner if you try that.
So they had to build a ferry.
That realization was demoralizing.
Building a ferry would take time.
Yeah, it'd take a long time.
A couple weeks, probably.
I don't know that it took them quite that long,
but it was one of those things where what choice did they have?
Yeah.
So they got to work building a ferry, and as they worked, it rained some more,
and pretty soon some of the dudes who'd already been grumbling about the slow pace
became full-blown angry boys.
This was all somebody's fault!
Poor leadership had gotten them into this mess!
The angry dudes had had enough.
They decided that it was time to put Hootie and the Blowfish in their place.
By the way, Hootie and the Blowfish is the nickname that I've given to Al Russell,
and all of his other little elected leaders in this group.
Okay, so that's the leadership group.
Hooty and the Blowfish.
Yes.
Gotcha.
So, with everybody gathered round, one of the single dudes took action.
He said,
Hooty and the Blowfish, your days are numbered.
You know what I'm going to do?
I'm going to create a committee,
and that committee is going to put you on trial for tyranny and neglect of duty.
Oh, my God.
Now who's with me?
Let's put it to our vote!
It seems a little dramatic.
They can't help that the river's high
You know what?
Is it because they got there a little too late?
Is that what they're saying?
They were just lollygagging around,
looking at all the botany,
going, oh, look at this flower.
I've never seen this flower back in Springfield.
They were just, you know, it's bad leadership, Norm.
You need to listen.
You can't, that's where we get the phrase,
don't stop and smell the flowers.
It means you're wasting time.
We all know that's very real saying.
Isn't that the phrase?
No, the stop and smell the flowers.
The phrase is stop and smell the roses.
Okay.
It's not don't stop and smell the flowers.
Well, that should be a bumper sticker.
Don't stop and smell the flowers.
That means go faster.
Yeah, get moving.
So they put it to a vote and the motion passed.
What?
They were going to have a trial.
The whole works.
Oh, my God.
Now this seems like a waste of time.
Well, sure.
Yeah.
You know what?
You know the solution to this problem?
Let's stop and have a trial.
Yeah.
But Al Russell was like, uh, whoa, hold on.
You don't need to do all that.
I will just resign and my blowfish will too.
Mm-hmm.
And that angry dude who had been so proud of himself a minute earlier was like, oh, uh.
Okay.
Now who's going to volunteer?
Hey, Lilburn Boggs.
How about you, buddy?
We think it's really cool.
You swallowed that bullet.
How about you swallow this one right now and be the leader of our caravan?
And Lilburn was like, no thanks.
That sounds terrible.
Yeah.
And it was in that awkward moment that another dude stepped up.
And he was like, hey, I'd like to bring a new motion, a motion to bring back Hooty and the Blowfish and just forget we ever even did all this.
And everyone was like, I.
Wow.
Huge waste of time.
And so he just got voted back in.
Uh-huh.
Uh-huh.
He's saying, I only want to lead you.
Ooh.
Do, do, do, do.
Yeah, so the leadership didn't change, but tension was a bruin.
By the way, obviously, Lilburn Boggs sucks.
But I do think that's a pretty funny move to be like, hmm, you want me to be your leader?
I'm taking a look at this, and I'm going to say, no thanks.
Yeah, he was like, been there, done that.
even though they'd only been on the trail for a few weeks, those weeks had been hard.
They'd been especially hard on Margaret Reed's elderly mother, Sarah Keys.
Sarah was 70 years old.
She was in poor health.
She had tuberculosis, but she'd insisted on coming along on the journey.
And now she was dying.
She lay in the Reed family wagon, unable to move, surrounded by her daughter, son-in-law, two granddaughters, two grandsons,
Sarah Keys died on May 29, 1846.
News of her death spread throughout the Russell Caravan.
And even though they were building a ferry to cross a river that was unexpectedly high,
and even though there was infighting about leadership and the pace of their journey,
everyone came together and did something beautiful.
They stopped.
They built a coffin.
They carved her name and the date she died into a stone.
They held a funeral.
They sang a hymn.
And before they closed her coffin, James Reed cut a lock of Sarah's hair.
Two days later, when they finally managed to ferry across the Big Blue River,
the Reed family, but especially 12-year-old Virginia Reed,
struggled with the fact that they'd buried her grandmother in an unfamiliar place,
in a place that her grandmother had never really known, and then they'd all just left.
It seemed so wrong.
All too common on the trail.
It wouldn't be until much later that Virginia would view her grandmother's death as a blessing
because in retrospect, her grandmother died in a beautiful place, long before the real trouble began.
That moment when everyone in the caravan stopped to pay their respects to Sarah Keys had been beautiful.
It was also short-lived.
In the midst of the stress of varying everyone across the river, some of the teens,
camesters got into a knife fight. They had to be pulled off of one another. A while later, a group of
people broke off from the caravan and took off ahead of the others. They were frustrated with the slow pace.
And although that seemed dramatic and final and terrible, they actually stayed fairly close to one
another on the trail. They sometimes left notes for one another. They traveled between camps.
It was kind of funny. They were all on this really difficult, life-changing journey together.
And even though in some cases that was the only thing people had in common, they bonded.
They knew that when they got to wherever they were going, whether it be Oregon or California,
that they'd at the very least stay in touch.
And ideally, they'd form a community out there in the land of milk and honey.
I think they knew that going off completely on their own would be foolish.
Yes.
But sure, splitting off and going out.
ahead and working together with the other camp that makes sense.
Yeah, if you've got a big enough group, it makes sense.
Yeah.
So, friendships formed, romances blossomed.
Oh.
Because, sure, there was work to be done and everybody smelled like buffalo chips,
but that didn't stop folks from taking a gander at one another.
When you say buffalo chips, do you mean poop?
Buffalo poop?
What?
How dare you?
Is that what that means?
That's disgusting.
No, no.
If you'll just hold that nasty thoughts, sir.
Speaking of buffalo chips, people's spirits really picked up when they got into Buffalo territory.
For the dudes on the trail, shooting a buffalo was the way to get some food and prove that you had a large weiner.
That buffalo was tasty.
I like that you had no reaction to that.
It just sounds like a true statement.
Another true statement, James Reed was not good at shooting buffalo and he was really upset about it and really embarrassed.
He's like, I have to make people believe my penis is huge.
Everyone's laughing at me behind my back.
Yeah.
Mmm, that buffalo was tasty.
Folks cooked it over a delicious pile of flaming shit.
Oh, excuse me, buffalo chips.
And if you're wondering, what did that taste like?
I am wondering, actually.
Well, everyone says that it made the food taste like hickory.
But that sounds about as made up as a two-story wagon.
I mean, seriously, don't you agree?
That sounds ridiculous.
So they light buffalo poo on fire.
Yeah, because it was, I guess, highly flammable.
Yeah, well, it's probably got a lot of kindling in it.
And it was easy to find because, you know, it's just shit.
It's everywhere.
Well, the amount of buffalo on the plains was enormous at that time.
At that time, yes.
Plentiful.
Of course, we almost made the buffalo extinct in later years.
Well, we had to prove how big our penises were.
Everyone did.
Yep. Future topic?
Big penises?
Yes.
That'll be a two-part series.
Yes, and the extinction of the buffalo.
Almost extinction of the buffalo.
Okay.
We'll also allow that.
Yeah.
Okay, so they're lighting shit on fire, cooking buffalo meat over it.
And they're like, this doesn't taste like poop at all.
At all.
There's only one way to find out.
Well, that is the funny thing.
It's like, I was reading that.
And of course it comes up in multiple sources.
And everyone's like, oh, no, it tasted like hickory, quite delicious.
And I'm sitting here going, there's no way.
But also, I'm not going to prove anyone wrong.
Because, like, imagine that victory speech.
My breath reeks of literal shit.
And I'm like, it tasted.
bad and I knew he would.
Ooh, your breath stinks.
Welcome to Norms, home of the flaming turd burger.
I mean, we could, you know, Doddy and Kit sure do serve up plenty of turds on our walks.
We could.
We could not.
Collect them all.
Stop all of this.
But we do collect them.
I mean, we don't collect them, but we throw them away.
We have a whole collection.
So people were eating. They were making connections. And there was always a sense that good or bad, anything could happen on the trail.
This sounds like Love Island.
No. James Reed, can I pull you for a quick chat?
I'm going to spray you down with whipped cream and then we're just going to make out loudly into our microphones.
That feeling that anything could happen was probably most poignantly described by,
by a newspaper editor named Edwin Bryant, who in one day on the trail, witnessed more highs and lows than he'd thought possible before.
See, Edwin had joined the trek to California because he wanted better health.
He wanted a better life.
And also, he wanted something really cool to write about.
But at some point, word got out that when Edwin was younger, he'd done some medical training.
To be clear, he was not a doctor.
Right.
Never pretended to be a doctor.
But he stayed at a holiday and express.
But word had a way of traveling from one caravan to another that he had stayed in a holiday
and express and maybe he was a doctor.
So one day, three men came to Edwin in a panic.
They'd ridden 30 miles to get to him because they'd heard he had some medical training
and they were in desperate need of it.
I hope this guy just wasn't making this up to impress somebody.
No, no, no.
He was a very honest guy, but hardly.
anyone else at that time on the trail had any kind of training in that area.
Yeah.
The men told Edwin that they needed his help.
A seven-year-old boy had been sitting on the front of his family's wagon when he fell off.
The boy's leg had been crushed by a wagon wheel.
He needed a doctor fast.
Edwin didn't know what to do.
He told the men, hey, I'm really sorry, I'm not a doctor.
I don't have any surgical tools.
I don't think I can actually do anything to help this child.
But the men were insistent.
Please help us.
Please help us.
You have to save this little boy.
You're the only one who can help.
So Edwin went on that 30-mile journey, hoping he'd be able to do something for that little boy.
When he got there, the boy's mother, Margaret Garrison, was distraught.
She told Edwin that the accident with the wagon wheel had actually happened a week ago.
A week ago?
Yeah.
Oh, my God.
So he's had a broken leg.
Ooh, this poor kid.
She'd done what she could for her son.
She'd bandaged him up and he'd seemed fine.
But a few days later, the little boy had said that he felt worms crawling in his leg.
When she checked her son's wound, she saw maggots.
So many maggots.
Edwin examined the little boy's leg.
It was decaying.
The boy's mother begged him, please, please help him, help him.
Amputate his leg.
Amputate my son's leg.
Edwin tried to break the news gently. He told her, I can't. Even if I could amputate his leg, it wouldn't do any good. It would just increase his suffering. He's going to die. But Margaret was distraught and insistent. She couldn't just let her son die. Edwin had medical training. He needed to do something. Amputate it, amputate it, amputate it. It got so bad that finally one of the cattle drivers came forward and he said, hey,
okay, I've worked in a hospital.
I've seen surgeries performed.
I will try to amputate the boy's leg.
Margaret was grateful, and Edwin, again, didn't know what to do.
He knew enough to know that the amputation would be a mistake,
but now he also knew that it was going to happen with or without him there to help.
So he stayed.
Yeah.
And he helped.
They performed the surgery with whatever tools they had on hand.
And that little boy, Enoch Garrison, spoke softly during the nearly two-hour surgery.
Oh, my God.
And as soon as the surgery was complete, Enoch Garrison died.
Afterward, Edwin went around to the rest of the wagon train, helping those he could.
Then he had a bite to eat, and he was invited to a wedding.
That evening, a 15-year-old girl married the 22-year-old man who'd been hired to drive one of
her family's wagons. Edwin was just stunned by all that was happening. Off in the distance,
at the camp he'd been at, you know, an hour ago, not far from the wedding, he saw Little Enoch's
funeral taking place. And so it was in that setting with a wedding and a funeral that a man rode up
carrying good news from another nearby camp. A woman had just given birth to a healthy baby boy.
Later, when Edwin wrote about that night, he focused on all that had happened and all that would vanish.
In just two hours, across a span of two miles, there'd been a death and a funeral and a birth and a wedding.
And by that time tomorrow, the only thing left behind on the trail would be Enoch Garrison's grave.
That's a hell of a day.
It's remarkable.
Yeah.
It's remarkable, isn't it?
It's just unbelievable.
It does make you wonder how many unmarked graves are on this trail.
That is a good point.
And one that I think is interesting when you look at this little boy's funeral versus Sarah Key's funeral.
So I mentioned earlier this paranoia about Native Americans.
Oh, they're going to do this and that.
There was this fear that, oh, we're going to bury someone and we're going to leave.
and Native Americans are going to come and dig up the grave.
I don't know if it was just because it happened a little while later on the trail.
But, you know, Sarah Keys was buried and had sort of a gravestone.
By the time Enoch died, they actually very carefully dug up a spot on the trail itself.
They put the dirt that they'd moved onto blankets so it wouldn't look like the path had
been disturbed, and then afterward they rode their wagons over it.
To come pack the dirt.
The one exception was the Garrison family did not ride over their son's grave.
Yeah.
So, yeah, I mean, there are probably, who knows how many stories like that.
That evening was the perfect summation of life on the trail.
People lived and died and loved and lost on the trail.
They experienced joy and fear.
So much fear.
A lot of them, as I've already mentioned, had an intense fear of Native Americans, and they were stunned.
When during the many times that they ran into Native Americans on the trail, nothing really happened.
Yeah.
Imagine that.
So the wagons kept moving.
They were about a week behind schedule, but folks were feeling pretty good.
They had everything they needed.
They'd figured out a rhythm.
But they did want to make up time.
By that point, the caravan was a mix of people who plan to go to Oregon and people who plan to go to California.
And among the Californians, there was a lot of talk about that shortcut that had been popularized by Lansford Hastings' book,
The Immigrants Guide to Oregon and California.
And Norman is nodding because he loves the book.
He's got a book club, and that's all they read every month.
It's a book club of one.
Wow.
Wow, you really nailed that joke home.
James Reed had read the book multiple times.
Both of the Donner Brothers had also read the book multiple times.
They'd passed it around amongst people in the caravan.
People were talking about that shortcut.
And then, at the end of June, they reached Fort Laramie.
Fort Laramie was a little trading post in Wyoming,
but it ended up being a very important stop on the journey.
Because when they arrived at Fort Laramie, they ran into Mountain Man
James Climman.
Let me hear that mountain man sound, Norm.
Ar.
I be climbing these mountains.
Maities.
Maities.
Where'd you find that funny-looking bird?
Y'r, that's my business.
On the mountain, duh.
Where do you think?
James Climond popularized the word, duh, and we're all grateful to him for it.
Now, if you history host, don't recall, James Climman was...
It's climbing mountains.
I'm sorry.
Very, very dumb.
He served in the Black Hawk War with James Reed, right?
Well, I'm hesitant to say that, I think probably, but also we're definitely safe saying that he, no, no, no, it was the state-run militia.
God damn it.
Don't even, don't mess me up.
I will not have a second mistake of shame with the same mistake.
Okay.
I'm coming up with new mistakes in this episode.
James Climman served in the state militia during the Black Hawk War.
That accurate?
Norm, if you'll let me continue reading.
Okay.
Here's my next line.
If you'll recall, James Reed and James Clyman knew each other.
They served together in the Illinois militia alongside Stephen Douglas, who you may remember
from the Lincoln Douglas debates and Abraham Lincoln, who you may remember for popularizing
the top hat.
The disrespect is enormous.
What's worse?
That joke or my Chevrolet joke?
The Chevrolet joke was good.
It really got me thinking.
I really had to think about...
It was an intellectual joke, yes.
Right.
I didn't understand it at first.
Actually, I thought it was a totally different joke.
I had to reanalyze, and then the genius slowly revealed itself.
You know, comedians are really the geniuses of our day.
Joe Rogan taught me that, and I shan't disagree.
Ooh.
I learned a lot from him.
That's why I only eat beef.
Oh, you're on that carnivore diet, huh?
I feel terrible.
I'm so tired all the time.
I'm getting great sleep.
I'm getting great sleep.
I have no energy, which is great.
James Climmon was just the type of guy you wanted to run into on the trail.
Fun fact.
Once, when his buddy got mauled by a grizzly bear,
James calmly sewed the man's scalp and ear back onto his head.
A good friend!
Wow, that is a good friend.
I wish I had a friend that could do that.
for me. Oh my God.
My bowling buddies, I don't know if they could handle it.
I don't think they could. Yeah.
I guarantee you if that happened, I would pass out, maybe run away.
I don't know. I don't even want to think about the blister on your toe.
My toe's been amputated, so don't worry.
Oh, thank God. You went to Independence. Yeah, I did.
You stopped at the cheddar, stopped at the Costco, and then you got that toe taken care of.
And then I went to Updogs.
A delicious little hot dog joint in downtown Independence.
Wouldn't that be kind of a tough place to go after you?
you just amputated your toe.
Wouldn't all the sights of those little dogs kind of trigger you?
No, I think I'd be all right.
Okay.
I think it's pretty good food.
I'd be okay.
That would trump any weird trauma I have.
Sure, sure.
James Clyman knew all about Lanceford Hastings and his stupid shortcut.
Mm-hmm.
In our first episode, I mentioned that a full year after Lanceford Hastings published his book,
he decided that it might be time to test out that shortcut he'd been taken.
touting. Yeah, and he did a little picnic in May on horseback. Yeah, basically.
So that's what he did. And guess what? James Clyman was one of the dudes who'd taken that
shortcut with him. Now, let the record reflect. James Clyman wasn't the type to talk shit,
but the truth was he couldn't stand Lansford Hastings. He thought it was disgusting that after
experiencing that awful, dangerous shortcut firsthand,
Lansford was doubling down on it.
James Clyman knew that Lansford Hastings was going up and down the trail
trying to convince people to take his shortcut.
So, James Climond did what he could.
Lancford was on the trail spreading lies.
So James was on the trail to spreading the truth.
Telling lies, Lansford?
Imagine if Lansford Hastings had put like a little toll road on his cutoff.
Hmm. He probably would have if he'd thought of it.
I was just thinking like, okay, so he's telling everybody about this cutoff so it can like elevate his name because it's called Hastings cutoff, I'm guessing.
Oh, I don't know that it had been named that yet. But again, his goal was he wanted to get people to take the shortcut.
Think of him as a true leader. Yeah.
And if he got enough people out to California where he had a buddy who had some real estate, he had this vision that one day he would rule California.
Yeah.
Because he'd helped get so many white people there.
And he was their esteemed leader.
And yeah, he'd done the shortcut on horseback.
And he knew what it was like.
But he just couldn't give up on his dream of ruling California.
He could have made some pretty serious money if he had opened a little toll road.
Of course, you have to own the land to do that.
But in the John Brown story, when I was doing research, there was a family, I think I talked about in the episode, actually.
They owned like a little inn and bar right on a river, and they had a toll road for the California Trail, and they charged people.
What?
Yeah.
I didn't know you could do that.
Yeah, well, they owned the land.
Okay.
Yeah, they just charge people taking the trail.
Yeah, if you want to pass through here, pay up.
Oh, by the way, we have a hotel and a restaurant here.
Well, see, that to me is normal.
Like, people did that.
You know, they had little forts and you could get what you needed, but a toll is...
A toll to cross a, you know, a safe way across a river.
Wow.
Yeah.
That day, James Clyman told James Reed and a number of others that he did not recommend the shortcut.
It may have made sense on.
paper? But in reality, the shortcut wasn't a shortcut at all. It would take them through Weber Canyon.
It would be very steep. They'd be surrounded by walls of rock. At one point, they'd have to walk
through a river. And then they'd travel 80 miles through the Great Salt Lake Desert with no water.
And to make the journey even tougher, they would be in wagons. They'd be in wagons without an established
trail to follow. James
Clyman didn't mince words. He warned
the group that the shortcut had been hard
enough on horseback. Going in
wagons might kill
them. Yeah. James
Reed tried to argue with him,
but James Clyman didn't budge.
The shortcut was a bad idea.
They needed to stick to the trail.
Some people took his advice.
Some even decided, huh?
You know what? Don't worry about
California. We'll just go to Oregon instead.
But James Reed was
I wasn't convinced.
I have to pause here because this to me is the epitome of someone's telling me something that I don't want to hear.
Yeah.
I respect this person.
I have no real reason to doubt them, but they're telling me something I don't want to hear.
And I'm already anxious about how far behind I am on this journey.
Well, he believes the shortcut will make up time that they've lost.
You know, I tried to find an exact number.
But it's bullshit. So who cares? But I, you know, some stuff said, oh, this will cut 300 miles off your journey. Some stuff said 200 miles off your journey. But James Kleiman was right. It looks on paper like it would be faster, but it's not. And yeah, it looks like you're going to save X amount of miles, which would take maybe a month off your journey. And that sounds wonderful. But it's not going to be.
your reality when you actually take that, I almost said take that road. It's not a road.
Well, and man, just the name alone of the great salt desert, I think I'd be like, ooh, that doesn't
sound very good. Yeah. And a little foreshadowing there. It was not good. So they hit the trail
again, knowing that there was still time to make a decision. And so weeks passed, they moved
slowly, but steadily. And in mid-July, a man came by on a horse. They were in southeast. They were in
southeastern Wyoming near the continental divide. And the man had big news. It was an open letter
which Lanceford Hastings had asked to be shared with anyone who was on the way to California.
Oh my God. This is this guy like... He's terrible. A commercial on horseback? Is this what this is?
That's what it is, yeah. In the letter, Lanceford Hastings made an enticing offer. And Norm,
you don't seem excited to hear about it. I hate ads. Well, I don't like your negativity.
He wrote that anyone, oh my God, wouldn't it be funny if we just cut this whole section from Patreon for the folks who do ad-free versions?
Yeah.
In the letter, Lanceford Hastings made an offer.
He wrote that anyone who was currently on the road should hurry on up to Fort Bridger once there.
He, the Lanceford Hastings would personally escort them through his new shortcut.
Oh my God.
Yeah, the shortcut will definitely shave like, you know, 200 miles off the journey.
The Lanceford Hastings.
The Lanceford Hastings.
He's very sexy, very cool.
And yes, his hairline is manifest destined to the back of his neck, but...
But we don't care.
But he shot a buffalo once, so you know what that means.
I'm about to bust.
I know what it means.
That was exciting news.
Tempting news.
He's so full of shit.
I this man makes me so angry so angry and if you think that I'm not going to say what happens to this man at the end of all this well you are wrong
I'm a wag of the finger the camera there the day after they read that open letter they crossed the continental divide they'd traveled a thousand miles it was a real turning point
separated the men from the boys.
Generally speaking, getting that far meant that you'd reached the point of no return,
which maybe made people a little scared, a little euphoric.
Either way, it was real now, and it was time to make a decision.
Would they stick to the traditional path, or would they take the shortcut?
For most of the people on the trail, the decision was easy.
They were going to go the traditional route.
Sure, it might take longer, but it seemed like the safer.
bet. It's probably a well-worn trail.
Exactly. James Clyman is saying, do not take this shortcut. Yep. It's dangerous. That's the safest
way to get to California and Oregon. So most people took that route. But the Reed family,
both Donner families, plus six other families and 16 single men elected to take the shortcut.
It seemed that the only real naysayer was Tamsunner, George Donner's wife.
Tamson was an educated woman.
She was a talented writer, a voracious reader, a botany enthusiast, and by profession, a teacher.
Tamson was well liked on the trail.
She was a natural with children.
In fact, when they got to California, she wanted to start a school for girls.
Tamson was smart and discerning, and she wanted no part of her.
that shortcut. She referred to Lansford Hastings as a selfish adventurer.
That's accurate.
But everyone else, including her husband and brother-in-law, believed in the shortcut.
And to make things even more complicated, her husband had just been elected as the leader of what was now being called the Donner Party.
Yeah.
But there was still time for George and the others to change their minds.
Not much time, but there was time.
A few days later, they arrived at Fort Bridger.
The spot where Lansford Hastings, the Lansford Hastings, said he would be waiting for them.
Said he'd be.
Yeah, except what the hell!
He wasn't there.
As it turned out, he'd already headed out with a group of other travelers like a week ago.
But he'd left behind instructions saying that anyone who wanted to join his party should,
and they should just, you know, continue on and catch up.
Yeah, I'll come back for you.
No, he's just saying hurry up and catch up.
Just catch up with us, yeah.
Yeah.
On this shitty, shitty trail.
No, this wonderful trail that will definitely save a month of travel time.
It won't be the worst thing that ever happened to you and puts you in the history books forever.
Absolutely not.
That's crazy talk.
James Reed and George Donner were devastated.
Maybe they shouldn't take the shortcut.
But the men who ran that trading post, Jim Bridger,
and Louis Vasquez
offered words of encouragement.
They told them,
yes, you should follow.
You should follow Lansford Hastings.
Shortcuts's great.
Not only would it save them hundreds of miles,
but they'd actually be on a better trail
than the traditional trail.
Oh, my God.
Norm, the shortcut was a level road.
Plenty of water.
Plenty of grass.
Maybe too much grass.
So much grass.
It's like a buffet for these oxen.
Now, hold on, it's not all.
It's not all.
Puppies and rainbows, okay?
There's going to be a 40-mile
desert, 40 miles, you know, so look out for the 40 mile desert.
Yeah.
That James Clyman was sure full of shit when he called it an 80 mile desert.
Oh, yeah.
After that talk, James Reed was elated.
He sang the men's praises in a letter back home.
What great guys, real straight shooters!
We appreciate these boys.
It really is so upsetting.
That's exactly what it is.
Yeah.
He, in this letter back home, he wrote about like, oh, a lot of these dudes who run these force,
they're just unscrupulous, terrible people.
Not these guys.
These guys are amazing.
What the members of the Donner Party didn't know was that the men had been lying.
See, their trading post had been losing business for a couple years, ever since a different shortcut
had opened up.
But if people took Lansford Hastings shortcut, well, they definitely stop at Fort Bridger.
and they'd definitely spend some money at Fort Bridger.
So the men lied.
But they didn't just tell one lie because Edwin Bryant,
that newspaper editor who had performed surgery on the little boy,
had gotten pretty far ahead of the main group.
He'd already come to that exact trading post
and he'd learned from more reputable sources
that the shortcut was in fact not safe.
He'd done a little bit of the shortcut himself.
Yeah.
And yeah, he saw for himself,
this is not safe at all, but it's especially unsafe for families and people in large wagons.
Edwin had been very alarmed.
He knew the reeds.
He knew the donors.
In all likelihood, he was loosely acquainted with most of the people who made up the donner
party.
And he didn't want to see them in harm's way.
So he wrote letters.
So many letters to all of his friends who he'd met along the way,
who he knew were just a little bit behind.
him on the trail. In those letters, he warned them, don't take the shortcut. And then he'd gone to
Fort Bridger, and he'd given those letters to Jim Bridger and Louis Vasquez, and he asked them to give the
letters to his friends when they arrived. And the men said, oh, absolutely sure. And they never did.
They knew that Edwin was trying to warn people off the shortcut, and that would be bad for their
business. So they got rid of the letters. And so, after a
few days of resting up, the members of the Donner Party happily headed off, hoping to catch
up to that wonderful, knowledgeable explorer, Lansford Hastings.
And if you hate Lanceford Hastings right now, wait till you hear next week's episode of an
all-timey podcast.
Whoa.
Well, we definitely hate Lanceford Hastings in this household.
In this house?
Wouldn't it be funny if we had one of those garden signs, but instead of referencing concepts that everybody knows about, like, love and peace and science, it was like, in this house, we hate Lansford Hastings.
In this house, we blame everything on Henry Clay.
In this house, we are horny for Lincoln.
Just all of the sayings of an old-timey podcast.
Sure, sure.
Yeah.
In this house, we don't stop and smell the false.
flowers.
Excellent, Kristen.
How'd you feel about that?
Oh, the more you tell this story, the more anxious I get.
Yeah.
I want to like scream through a time machine loudspeaker at the Donners and the
Reeds and say, don't do it.
I do wonder, it does seem like James Reed was pretty set on the shortcut.
And of course, that was helped by these two assholes at the trading post.
but I do wonder if they'd received those letters from Edwin,
would that have changed everything?
Yeah, you do have to wonder.
I think it would have.
You think so?
Yes, because I talked a little about Tams and Donner.
She was well respected.
She was very smart.
She and Edwin had a good relationship,
and I just feel like she was already so doubtful.
One of the onlookers said that she was,
She just looked so dispirited, so depressed.
It was just obvious.
She did not feel good about going on this shortcut.
And I think that, you know, okay, they didn't know James Clyman.
Yeah.
But they knew Edwin Bryant.
And I do wonder if that would have made a difference.
Yeah.
But again, as we just talked about, like, that's somebody telling you something you don't want to hear.
Yeah.
And it's hard to, you know, wrap your head around it.
accept that information, I guess.
Yeah, I mean, you've told me plenty of stuff about how I look and cut off overalls,
but I just don't want to hear it, so I keep wearing them.
Kristen, you'd look great and cut off overalls.
Oh, I know, and I do right now.
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
It's, well, and the story of the little boy breaking his leg and...
It's terrible.
There's a movie I love called Master and Commander.
Mm-hmm.
Fantastic film, Russell Crow, check it out.
It's about, what is it about?
I got it.
Oh, my God.
I think it's during the Napoleonic Wars, and they're like on a ship, and they're, like, hunting for friendships.
But there's a...
I'm sorry, it sounded like you said.
They were hunting for friendships.
We're looking for friends on the high seas.
Hey!
Hey, who wants to be friends with us?
But there is a 10-year-old boy on the crew, and he gets, I think he gets his arm injured.
Yeah.
And there's a scene where they amputate the boy's arm, and it's just gruesome.
It's horrible.
I mean, no medicine.
Yeah.
They maybe gave him something to bite down on.
Right.
No, it's amazing.
You know, where medical knowledge was at that point in time, that was the thing to do was just amputate.
Yeah.
That was often your best shot of survival was to just amputate.
Around this time, if you remember from the Phineas Gage story, there was that professor from Harvard who had written a research paper about how ether can help patients during surgery.
So it was like a brand new thing, the anesthetic.
Everything's connected, Kristen.
It's all connected on an old-timey podcast.
That's right.
In a way, Henry Clay has been one.
with us since the very beginning.
Oh, my God. Henry fucking Clay.
We did like a mock election for in our, like, when I was like a Jew, it was during the,
what year was, was there a presidential campaign in 2004?
Yeah.
Yeah, John Kerry.
Yeah.
So we did like a, who do you think is going to win the presidential election?
And so we all got to vote, but you could do a write-in candidate.
Oh, my God.
And I got the boys together and we all wrote in Henry Clay.
Are you serious?
Yeah, so on the school news, they had to report that about six people thought Henry Clay was going to win the presidential election.
I didn't know that you had such a relationship with Henry Clay, Norman.
Yeah, he was quite the butt of few jokes in history class growing up.
I mean, I knew Lilburn Boggs would excite you, and clearly it did.
Yep.
Didn't know about Henry Clay.
Henry Clay, future topic?
It would take 70 parts because he's still alive, I think.
Maybe we could get him on the show.
Exactly.
We should look up.
How old was he really when he died?
Because what if he was only like 50?
No, no.
He was ancient.
He was 75 when he died, which is pretty damn old for back then.
Oh, yeah.
In 1852, adjusted for inflation, 227.
And he's a man.
The dudes always go first.
Man!
He was born in 1777.
Dear Lord.
And died in 1852.
He witnessed so much shit in American history.
Oh, he had a son, Henry Clay Jr.
Wonder if he called him Jr.
Hey, junior.
Hold on.
Okay, now I've got to say, I mean, mistakes of shame, I must admit right now, I said I
saw one picture of him and thought he looked older than dirt.
I'm looking at that same picture now, realizing how.
old he was when that picture was taken and now I think he looks pretty darn good considering how ancient he was
maybe he moisturized you know he did Kristen I have some breaking news for you oh okay this just hit my desk
as we were recording I somehow don't believe that the show we love to hate and just like that yes
it's currently on season three yes it was announced today this will be the series finale
There will be no more new episodes of In Just Like That.
You know, okay.
Honestly, I'd grown a little attached to our hate watching.
So last week's episode, sorry, spoiler alerts if you're not keeping up with this terrible show.
But last week's episode, Carrie and Aden finally broke up.
Thank God.
Needed to happen.
Yeah.
And that, at the end of that episode, I was like, holy shit.
This actually seems like someone wrote this episode.
Yeah, it doesn't, because you, you joked that previous episodes felt like they were written by AI.
I swear they were.
And that's not an original thought from me.
That was someone online said it feels like this was written by AI.
And it felt so deeply true to me that I decided that in fact that is exactly what happened.
Uh-huh.
But this one felt like they were really in there, you know, scratching their nuggets, drinking their coffee, writing some words.
So there will be a two-part finale, and the creator, Michael Patrick King, was like, you know, we wrapped up and we just decided this is actually kind of a good way to end the series.
So they just ended it.
I don't know if that's just lip service or if executives were like, this show is bad.
Yes, yes.
They're done.
They're done.
No, if they're wanting to do a spinoff, which of course they shouldn't, they should just let this stop.
But I would watch a Seema spinoff.
Yeah.
I want more Seema in the city.
Seema in the city.
It writes itself.
Yeah.
Let AI do the work.
No, let me do the work.
I will write this.
I don't care about that woman with her freaking documentary and the hot editor she got.
Don't care.
Sorry.
Lisa.
Lisa.
Sorry, Lisa.
Yeah.
Now, Seema.
Interesting woman.
Interesting problems.
Seema in the city.
Episode one.
Scene one.
You got to be careful with how you say it.
otherwise it sounds like semen in the city.
And then you're going to get an audience that's going to be mighty disappointed by what they see.
Whoops.
I meant that to be the rim shot.
Hang on.
All right.
You got anything to wrap this up or are you?
That was it.
That was my breaking news.
I had to break the news to you.
Norm, thank you for that breaking news.
I feel like I'm podcasting with Anderson Cooper.
My goodness.
That's why I'm here.
Future topic, Vanderbilt's?
The Vanderbilt.
Norm, you don't even know, do you?
Is Anderson Cooper related to the Vanderbilt?
Oh, my God.
Oh, yeah, he comes from like a wealthy family, doesn't he?
Read a book, Norm.
I do read books.
How do you think I write these episodes?
It's just, it's funny to me how different our knowledge bases are, because you're like, Henry Clay, I know him well.
And I mentioned Anderson Cooper, and you're like, who?
I know who Anderson Cooper is.
I just...
Well, but you don't know the most interesting thing about him.
him, which is actually really nothing to do with him in a real way, but like, who's his mommy?
Who's his grandparents?
I had a bone to pick with Anderson Cooper.
What was it?
He kind of fussed at his audience one time about how CNN was not like actively fact-checking all the bullshit that was spewing out.
Right.
And so people complain, they're just like, this is bad.
Right.
And Anderson Cooper basically fussed at everybody who was complaining and was just like,
we allow them to speak and that's all we're supposed to do and blah, blah, blah,
and you know, all that stuff.
And I was just like, I am done with CNN and I'm done with Anderson Cooper.
Honestly, it makes me wonder, would the right way to do that be to have the debates on a delay?
to allow news outlets to do real-time fact-checking in like a ticker tape thing?
I don't know.
I don't know what it is.
But yeah, you can't just give somebody a platform unchecked.
That's not being a journalist.
We should do it like Twitch reaction streams.
You know, just have the news anchor play the debate.
And then they get to pause it whenever they want.
They're like, oh, I need to check this.
Uh-huh.
You know, and then they quickly look it up.
And can we be eating KFC as it's happening?
Absolutely.
I don't watch a lot of Twitch stuff, but I just, I feel like they're used.
You feel like KFC is involved?
Well, I just feel like they're always doing stuff while they're watching stuff, right?
Putting on makeup, eating food?
Eating.
I do both of those all the time for free.
Eating food and going to the bathroom are very, very common on Twitch streams.
You don't see them go to the bathroom, but sometimes you'll pop up, open a Twitch stream,
and they'll just be an empty chair.
Okay.
And it means someone's taking a Mondo Duke.
Sounds like a wonderful thing to watch
Oh no you don't get to watch them
No I understand the empty chair
Yeah you see the empty chair
Yeah anyway
Kristen great episode looking forward to
Oh I remember what I was going to say
I'm sorry you're trying to wrap this up
Because I was thinking when you said you had beef with Anderson Cooper
I was like I also have beef with Anderson Cooper
What's your problem with Anderson Cooper
Well it's an equally serious issue
I frankly do not appreciate the way he treated the comedian Kathy Griffin.
What did he do to Kathy Griffin?
He just dropped her like a bad habit when she did that Trump photo with the...
Oh, where she was holding like a paper mache bloody head of Trump.
Yeah, which was, yeah, in poor taste.
But anyway, I just...
But they used to be like best friends, right?
I don't know about best friends, but, you know, they used to host...
This is so much information that literally no one asked for.
No one gives this shit about.
Imagine if you stumbled upon an old-timey podcast and you were like, the Donner Party.
I've kind of heard a little bit about that, but I don't know much.
I guess I'll start this series.
And all of a sudden, we're talking about Gloria Vanderbilt and her little jeans.
And I'm talking about how I am not over how Anderson Cooper dropped Kathy Griffin.
Hey, hey, you finished your daughter party.
So they can turn it off now.
That party's over.
You have the option to turn this up, but please tune in next week.
Basically what we're saying is Anderson Cooper, if you want to come on an old-timey podcast
and defend yourself, we will allow you on.
And we won't fact-check you.
We don't have the resources to do that.
Absolutely.
We'll just believe everything you say.
Should we wrap this?
Let's do it.
Kristen, you know what they say about history hosts?
We always cite our sources.
That's right.
For this episode, I got my information from the books.
The Best Land Under Heaven, the Donner Party in the Age of Manifest Destiny by Michael Wallace.
The book The Indifference Stars Above.
The harrowing saga of a Donner Party bride by Daniel James Brown.
The documentary The Donner Party.
Plus more. Check the show notes for a full list of our sources.
By the way, did you know Michael Wallace, the author of Best Land Under Heaven, is the voice of the sheriff in the cars movies?
Shut up.
I swear to you.
Are you serious?
Yeah.
Fun titty-bitty.
That's wild.
I mean, he's a great writer and a wonderful car.
Or no, a sheriff, I'm sorry.
Well, he is a car in the film.
Both. He does both great, I think.
I'd never seen the film.
He's got a great voice.
Good for him.
That's all for this episode.
Thanks for listening to an old-timey podcast.
Please give us a five-star review wherever you listen to podcasts.
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I'm at Kristen Pitts-Karuso and he's at Gaming Historian.
And until next time, Tudaloo, Tata, and Cheerio!
Bye!
See ya.
See you.
