History That Doesn't Suck - 30: The Oregon Trail (“You Have Died of Dysentery”)

Episode Date: January 7, 2019

“You damn Yankees will do anything you like.” This is the story of the Oregon Trail, including the reasons pioneers crossed it and the trail’s development. As President Andrew Jackson leaves us and we fly through presidents in rapid succession (RIP President William Harrison), the US is going through the worst economic slump it’ll see until the Great Depression. A mixture of financial urgency and a sense of destiny--Manifest Destiny--now convinces tens of thousands of Americans to trek over 2,000 miles from Missouri’s western edge to Oregon Country. But how can families cross the desert? Or the Rocky Mountains?! Or descend the deadly Columbia River?!! And what about the British HBC’s hold on Oregon Country? We’ll hear all about the fur traders, missionaries, explorers, and early wagon trains that dared to blaze this trail before its heyday of the 1840s-1860s. It’s a dangerous trek. Are you ready to die of dysentery? Good. Because it’s about to get as real as a 1990s middle school computer lab. Let’s hit the Oregon Trail. ____ Connect with us on HTDSpodcast.com and go deep into episode bibliographies and book recommendations join discussions in our Facebook community get news and discounts from The HTDS Gazette  come see a live show get HTDS merch or become an HTDS premium member for bonus episodes and other perks. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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BetMGM operates pursuant to an operating agreement with iGaming Ontario. From the creators of the popular science show with millions of YouTube subscribers comes the MinuteEarth podcast. Every episode of the show dives deep into a science question you might not even know you had, but once you hear the answer, you'll want to share it with everyone

you know. Why do rivers curve? Why did the T-Rex have such tiny arms? And why do so many more kids need glasses now than they used to? Spoiler alert, it isn't screen time. Our team of scientists digs into the research and breaks it down into a short, entertaining explanation, jam-packed with science facts and terrible puns. Subscribe to MinuteEarth wherever you like to listen. Welcome to History That Doesn't Suck. I'm your professor, Greg Jackson, and as in the classroom, my goal here is to make rigorously researched history come to life as your storyteller. Each episode is the result of laborious research with no agenda other than making the past come to life as you learn. If you'd like to help support this

work, receive ad-free episodes, bonus content, and other exclusive perks, I invite you to join the HTDS membership program. Sign up for a seven-day free trial today at htdspodcast.com slash membership, or click the link in the episode notes. Welcome to History That Doesn't Suck. I'm your professor, Greg Jackson, and I'd like to tell you a story. Salida Jane Henderson, more familiarly known as Letty, just wants a taste. It's only fair. Her big sister, 11-year-old Lucy, took a sip. Lucy's friends did, too.

So, in the timeless tradition of younger siblings wanting to mimic what older brothers or sisters are doing in order to feel big, too, Letty must insist. Why can't she? Well, let's be clear. Lucy and her friends shouldn't have tried the laudanum. Older or not, it's never a good idea to take medicine unnecessarily. But kids are curious, so they each took a small taste and, ugh, it tasted nasty. By the way, you might remember this opium-based treatment was administered to Thomas Jefferson as he lay on his deathbed in episode 27 because this stuff doesn't just taste gross, it's potent. You can't have any of it, Lucy tells Letty. Good call, Lucy. Sure, she's playing the do as I say, not as I do card,

but come on, we've all been there, and Lucy's still quite little herself. I'm just glad she's refusing to give any to her even littler sister. But the precocious, determined girl won't be told what to do. It's hard not to develop an independent spirit out here in, well, wherever here is,

somewhere in the American Northwest. It's 1846, and Lettie's family has faced down the elements, illness, and hunger while traveling hundreds of miles across unforgiving terrain with their party. So no, Lettie's not going to let this go so easily. As soon as Lucy walks off elsewhere in the camp, Letty grabs the bottle of laudanum kept in the bag that's hanging from a nail on the sideboard of their family's wagon and drinks it. She drinks all of it. Little Lettie suddenly feels wiped out. It's not bedtime, but she can barely keep her eyes open.

This isn't normal. Something's wrong, and I think she knows it. So Lettie does what so many little children do when something's off. She goes to her mom, who's cooking at the campfire. Now, I can only imagine how her mom, Rhoda Henderson, feels. Not only has it been another long day on the trail, which is already tough, she's also nine months pregnant and has to prepare dinner. You know, I'm quite aware of what it's like to work a long day and come home to children who need you the moment you step through the door. I'm sure many of you do too, but I won't pretend for a second that I have any idea how drained

nine-month-pregnant pioneer Rhoda is. That's why I'm really sympathetic to the trail-traveling expectant mother for not asking, why are you so tired, Letty? And somehow, against all odds, playing detective well enough to realize her baby girl has a whole bottle of laudanum in her system. Instead, busy, physically and mentally exhausted Rhoda responds, run off and don't bother me. So Leti does. But she's so sleepy. She finds the beds, lays down, and falls asleep.

Lettie, dinner! Rhoda calls out when the meal is finally prepared. No response. Rhoda searches and finds her little one in a deep sleep. Ah, best not to bother the girl, she figures, and rejoins the rest of the family. She returns after dinner. Huh. Letty's still out cold.

Okay, this nap's lasted too long. Rhoda goes to wake her young daughter. In my head, I can picture the young mother crouching down despite the discomfort of her large, full-term, skin-stretched belly to nudge her girl. No response. So she nudges harder, maybe muttering, come on, Letty, time to get up, while doing so. Still no response. What? I imagine the annoyance turning to panic, the nudges becoming hard, visceral shakes as Rhoda shrieks of Letty, Letty! Cut through the evening sky. It's too late. The bottle of laudanum has lulled little Letty to an eternal slumber. My heart breaks just trying to imagine

the pain that Rhoda, her husband Robert, and the four surviving Henderson children must be feeling right now. To lose their little Letty so early in life and to do so out here where they'll likely never be able to visit her grave. Her probably shallow and likely to be disturbed by the elements or foragers grave. I imagine the sobs, the simultaneous prayers and curses ascending to the heavens. Robert takes the black walnut boards they use for a table and makes a coffin for his daughter then buries her, as Lucy tells us, quote, by the roadside in the desert, close quote. It's devastating, but between illness, the elements, wild animals, fighting, and just straight up accidents,

death is all too common of a tale out here. Only three days after Leti's death, the Hendersons slowed down their company once again. Rhoda's in labor. There, in the dirty, unsterile conditions of the desert, she gives birth to a baby girl, Olivia. But no rest for the weary. Lucy reports that her mother gave birth while they, quote, stopped for a few hours, close quote. See, this journey is already months behind schedule, so company members could die of exposure if they don't finish the journey before winter really hits. Rhoda lays in the covered wagon, grieving Letty, bleeding, clinging to merely hours-old Olivia as the off-road path jolts their fragile bodies. To quote Lucy again, we were the first party to take the southern cutoff and there was no road. The men walked beside the wagons and tried to ease the wheels down into the rough places. In spite of this, it was a very rough ride for my mother and her newborn babe. Close quote. Such is life and death on the Oregon Trail.

That's right, my friends. Today, we're heading to Oregon country. But of course, before we launch this over 2,000 mile trek from our jumping off point, say Independence, Missouri, we have to set up this massive transcontinental migration of hundreds of thousands of Americans. We'll make a quick stop in DC to see Andrew Jackson leave office and depart from this world. But then, we're keeping our eye on Oregon. This means making sure you understand how pro-Western expansion John Tyler becomes president, and how the devastating recession, aka Panic of 1837, along with the idea of manifest destiny, are making average Americans desperate enough to take their families across the desert and the formidable Rockies. Once we've done that, we'll figure out what Oregon country is exactly and meet some of the

fur traders, missionaries, and brave pioneers who blazed the Oregon Trail in the decades preceding its heyday of the 1840s through the 1860s. And finally, we'll travel the Oregon Trail. So, ready to dive dysentery? Oh, and you do realize this episode will have more than a few references to this touchstone of my and many American listeners' childhood education, right? Good. Then it's time to leave the poor Henderson family here on the Oregon Trail in 1846 for Washington, D.C. in 1836. You know how we do that. Rewind. Andrew Jackson's a tired, gangly old man. Despite having strengthened the presidency to the point of being called King Andrew I by his detractors, this bank-hating man-of-the-people president, like his predecessors, knows that two terms is enough.

His hand-picked successor, Vice President Martin Van Buren, will run as the Democratic presidential nominee in 1836 instead. As for the other party, the Whigs, they don't stand a chance against the powerful Democrats. To make matters worse, their strategy is to run three candidates at once. Basically, instead of letting a third-party candidate divide their voting base and weaken their chances of taking the White House, they do it themselves by running three sectional candidates. It's an interesting choice, a nice try, but the Whigs end up teaching Americans that this is a stupid way to try to get someone into the White House. Martin even calls the Whigs' sectionalism unpatriotic.

To quote him, True Republicans can never lend their aid and influence in creating geographical parties. Well, he's right. Between his political prowess and the backing of popular Andrew, New York native Martin wins 15 states and 170 electoral votes. The old general gracefully steps aside with an eloquent farewell address warning Americans to put aside their petty divisions. What have you to gain by division and ascension? Delude not yourselves with the belief that a breach once made can be afterwards repaired. Old Hickory sounds prophetic, doesn't he? But the man has given nearly his whole life to the service of his country and takes this last chance to fight for his nation as slavery becomes an increasingly divisive issue. Andrew then attends Martin's

swearing in on March 4th, 1837, and afterward goes home to the hermitage in Tennessee. Now we really want to stay with Martin Van Buren in 1837, but indulge me a quick step into 1845. Andrew's been a central figure for several episodes and changed the nation, so let's follow him to the end. As the years go on, the former president keeps up with politics.

He backs candidates and, whether wanted or not, offers advice to his political correspondents. But his health declines and the once powerful hero of New Orleans is finally confined to his home. He writes to a friend in May 1845, I have a shortness of breath that almost suffocates me in being carried 10 feet. I am, I may say, a perfect jelly from the toes to the upper part of my abdomen in any part of which a finger can be pressed half an inch and the print will remain for minutes.

Added to this, I have a bowel complaint, several passages with gripping daily with a severe attack of piles. This is my situation and in what it may result, God only knows. But Andrew doesn't have to wait long after this painful description of his ailments to meet his maker. The former president, senator, judge, and general becomes bedridden on June 6th. He can't make it to church. He was baptized as a Presbyterian just after leaving office, so his minister comes to him and administers communion. The loving

grandfather also gathers his grandchildren and great nieces and nephews, whom we met in the Christmas special. They're mostly grown now, yet Andrew admonishes them that they, quote, must all be obedient children, close quote. With his family members, minister, and doctor in his large bedroom, Andrew invites some of his slaves into the chamber as well. He tells them all, I want to meet you all in heaven, both black and white. Be good children, and we will all meet in heaven. Like I said in past episodes, the slave-owning, family-loving Andrew remains a contradiction to the end. This faith-filled speech expressing a sincere desire to see all of his household in heaven is his last.

Old Hickory's grieving son, Andrew Jr., reports that Andrew, quote, dozed away calmly and resignedly expired at six o'clock in the evening, 8th of June, 1845. Close quote. Andrew wasn't perfect, but few presidents will impact the United States or expand the very idea of American democracy like he did. Rest in peace, Andrew. I hope you got that reunion. And thanks for indulging me. Now, back to 1837 and our new president. Rewind. Martin Van Buren's troubles begin almost the minute he takes the oath of office.

A panic, which in modern times we call a recession, pops the economic investment and speculation bubble that's been building for most of the 1830s. The panic of 1837 has several causes, and kind of like your most recent breakup, it's complicated. First, Britain changes its economic policies to encourage British investors to move their cash out of the United States and back to their home country. Simultaneously, the price of cotton falls dramatically and a lot of land and cotton speculators find themselves holding almost worthless investments. These two dominoes fall directly onto small state and local banks. The already weak banks can't hold the weight because they have overextended

credit and handed out a few too many paper banknotes. After the bank's dominoes tumble, the rest of the economic dominoes tip over in quick succession. Businesses fail left and right. People lose their jobs. 40% of American banks fail. Unemployment skyrockets. And even if people do manage to keep their jobs, wages have tumbled. Damn. This panic, which will be the worst economic disaster to hit the U.S. until the Great

Depression of the 20th century, is the nightmare that lands on our new president right out of the gate. Cool-headed Martin faces it head-on. The Democratic president spends his entire term grappling with the panic and trying to find a solution, but without a national bank or any national policies to help failing businesses or out-of-work laborers, he can't do much. As a result, Martin's 1840 re-election hopes are screwed. Understandably, the election focuses on the panic, but since presidents are always America's go-to fall guys for a failing economy. In fact, Martin Van Buren is soon dubbed Martin Van Ruin. All his Whig opponent William Henry Harrison has to do is keep his mouth shut. Do you remember William? We met him briefly during the War of 1812.

Much to eternal wannabe President Henry Clay's chagrin, William beats him out during the nomination process because a lot of Whigs are tired of the old Kentuckian not being able to seal the deal. So this time, they're going with the old War of 1812 hero, William Henry Harrison for president and running with the gentlemanly Virginian, John, William Henry Harrison for president, and running with the gentlemanly Virginian, John Tyler, as his VP. William runs a great race. He even breaks with tradition by campaigning directly for himself. He's got a catchy, meaningless slogan inspired by his being at the 1811 Battle of Tippecanoe. Here it is, quote, Tippecanoe and Tyler too. Close quote. Prominent Whig Philip Hone admits, to quote him, there's rhyme but no reason in it. Close quote. In a way,

this hollow slogan kind of sums up the Whig's master plan to outmaneuver the political genius of President Martin Van Buren. See, unlike the nationally unified Democratic Party, the Whigs have a very disparate voting base that disagrees on almost every hot-button political issue. The only thing these guys have in common is their dislike of old Hickory and his crony, Martin. Without a clearly defined platform, the Whigs know they can't beat the incumbent in a fair fight. So they won't be making this election a fair fight. Instead, old Tippecanoe gets voters to forget about sticky issues like the stuck-in-a-rut economy, for which he has absolutely no answers, and focus on him, a war hero who conjures up memories of the War of 1812's glory

days. William plays to people's notion that he is a folksy, backwoods, log cabin living man of the people, when he's actually an estate-owning, blue-blooded slave owner living in a mansion in Indiana. The Whigs also paint President Martin Van Buren as an aristocratic successor to King Andrew, living in luxury in the White House while the common people suffer the lingering effects of the panic. And the Whig party takes a page straight out of the Democratic Party's playbook of handing out campaign swag. At rallies supporting William and John, Whig leaders hand out free hard cider and souvenir cups with log cabins printed on them. It works. Americans show up at the polls in record numbers.

Over 80% of voters cast a ballot. Martin becomes the third one-term president when he gets only 7 states and 60 electoral votes. William garners the other 19 states and 234 electoral votes. 67-year-old William moves from his mansion in Indiana to the presidential mansion in Washington, D.C., but he won't be enjoying the spoils of victory for long. William and his VP, John Tyler, take their oaths of office on March 4th, 1841. Shortly thereafter, William comes down with a nasty cold that turns into pneumonia. Doctors do all they can for the president, but despite their best efforts, or maybe because of them, I mean bleeding a dangerously sick elderly

man can't be a good idea, William Henry Harrison, 9th President of the United States, dies in the middle of the night on April 4th, 1841. Many will blame William's illness and death on his ridiculously long 1 hour and 45 minute inaugural address, which he delivers in the cold, damp Washington air. You might have even heard this rationale yourself. But as your doctor, any public health official or historian with the right training will tell you, that's not how germ theory works. I mean, don't tell your grandma, but you don't catch cold by being wet and cold. Further, William couldn't have gotten sick on March 4th. If he did, his symptoms would have started two weeks or so sooner. Our best guess at why he got sick today? Polluted water. In this time before the discovery of germ theory, Washington DC has a poor sewage system, meaning William likely drank some tainted water.

Crazy, right? William's death also raises a new constitutional quandary. If a president dies, does the VP act as a placeholder or get sworn in as the next president? After some debate, Congress goes with the latter. With a new precedent set, Vice President John Tyler becomes President John Tyler, giving the United States its third commander-in-chief in as many months. Yeah, we've gone from Martin to William and now to John. Western expansionist John. Want to learn how you can make smarter decisions with your money? Well, I've got the podcast for you. I'm Sean Piles and I host NerdWallet's Smart Money Podcast. On our show, we help listeners like you make the most of your finances. I sit down with NerdWallet's Smart Money Podcast. On our show, we help listeners like you make the most of your finances. I sit down with NerdWallet's team of nerds,

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Instead, we offer practical knowledge that you can apply in your everyday life. You'll learn about strategies to help you build your wealth, invest wisely, shop for financial products, and plan for major life events. And you'll walk away with the confidence you need to ensure that your money is always working as hard as you are. So turn to the nerds to answer your real world money questions and get insights that can help you make the smartest financial decisions for your life. Listen to NerdWallet's Smart Money Podcast wherever you get your podcasts. Ever wondered what it's like to be in the room with top Al Qaeda terrorists plotting their next move? Do you want to know how the history of Islamic fundamentalist thought

informs the way the world works today? Well then, dear listener, Conflicted is the podcast for you. I trace the epic battles between Muslims and the West. What are the Houthis' objectives in the Red Sea? It's a lesson to the rest of the Muslim world

and the Arab world. Do not trust the Islamists. Hosted by me, Thomas Small, an author and filmmaker, and my good friend, Ayman Deen, an ex-Al-Qaeda jihadi turned MI6 spy, Conflicted tells stories of the Islamic past and present to help you make sense of the world today. And now Conflicted Season 5 is being cooked up, coming to you very soon. And in the meantime, you can sign up to our Conflicted community

to give you bonus episodes and access to our community hub on Discord. Subscribe to Conflicted wherever you get your podcasts. Americans feel the West is their density. Sorry, I mean their destiny. Had a Back to the Future George McFly moment there. Anyway, by the time John Tyler takes office in 1841, westward migration has started, and the idea of, quote,

manifest destiny, close quote, is alive and well. New York newspaper editor John O'Sullivan writes in 1845 that it is America's quote, manifest destiny to overspread the continent allotted by providence for the free development of our yearly multiplying millions. Close quote. His idea totally lines up with Thomas Jefferson's empire of liberty vision. Most Americans, and most importantly President John Tyler, embrace this. Americans grab onto the catchphrase manifest

destiny that so aptly sums up their current view. Another newspaper editor, Horace Greeley, popularizes the phrase, go west young man, as Americans look to Oregon country for economic opportunities. So by the 1840s, many Americans are answering the call of adventure, destiny, and frankly, free land, thanks to the panic of 1837, by going west to Oregon country. And now that we get what's pushing these Americans, let's learn about where they're headed and the fur traders, missionaries, and others who, starting in the early 1800s, are carving a 2,000 mile trail from the United States to Oregon country. You know how we do that. Rewind. Oregon country is massive. Far larger than the 21st century U.S. state that bears the name,

it reaches north to the lower tip of Russian Alaska's panhandle, that is, latitude line 5440, and south to the northern border of the Mexican state, Alta California. East to west, it encompasses everything between the Rocky Mountains and the Pacific Ocean. To put that another way, it includes the future states of Washington, Oregon, and Idaho, part of future Wyoming and Montana, as well as the eventual Canadian province of British Columbia. Yeah, like I said, massive. But we'll focus on the part that will become the U.S. state of Oregon.

Right off the bat, let's note that early 1800s Oregon country is still mostly inhabited by its indigenous peoples. Sure, Spanish, Russian, British, and American explorers have passed through the area. American Captain Robert Gray and his crew became the first people of European descent to find the Columbia River in 1792. Amid making contact with the Chinook people, Gray named the river after his ship. Meanwhile, British explorer George Vancouver sent Lieutenant William Broughton to check out the Columbia River only a few weeks after this. But Britain and America's new geographical knowledge didn't lead to a rush of settlers.

Neither did Lewis and Clark's expedition just over a decade later. I mean, travel over land, across the desert, and past the Rockies? Who'd be crazy enough to do that? That'd be John Jacob Astor. Well, not him personally, but the richest hell New Yorker has a plan. He envisions a chain of trading posts across Lewis and Clark's path leading right into Oregon country and establishes the Pacific Fur Company in 1808 to realize this. The company then sets up a fort, Fort Astor, near the mouth of the Columbia River in 1811, but alas, the War of 1812 kills the venture by 1813. Still, something important comes from this. In returning to the United States, the ill-fated fur company's men

find a gap in the otherwise continuous massive Rocky Mountains. Holy crap. This will come to be known as the South Pass, and it just made going to and fro between the United States and the Northwest significantly easier. The timing of this find couldn't be better. America doesn't have a great hold on Oregon country right now. A few years after the war, the United States and Britain agreed to joint control of Oregon country in 1818. Yeah, that'll work. I mean, two disagreeing countries going halfsies on territory always works out well. Like in Cold War Germany, Vietnam, or Korea. You get the sarcasm and my point, right? So even though both Spain and Russia drop any remaining claims they had on the turf in the next few years,

America doesn't have real control. If anyone does, it's Britain's Hudson Bay Company, or the HBC. Far from being as evil and inept as it appears on Netflix's Frontier, I love Jason Momoa in that series, by the way, the fur-trading HBC lands on its feet as it moves into Oregon country in 1821 and makes John McLaughlin its director here in 1824. John will later become an American citizen and be known as the father of the state of Oregon, but no one would predict that right now in the 1820s. Fact is that if America is going to hold on to Oregon country, it needs a lot more Americans in the region ASAP. And a few get that, like Virginia Congressional Rep. John Floyd. He tries to convince Congress to support settlement and move for full control of Oregon as early as 1820.

He doesn't succeed, but he's undeterred. The congressman will press Oregon settlement for years. Meanwhile, a private citizen, Massachusetts schoolteacher Hall Jackson Kelly, is trying to sway the American public that it isn't certain death to traverse the continent. In 1828, he writes a plea for government support called Memorial of Citizens of the United States, which Congressman Floyd gladly cites in the halls of Congress. But keeping our eye on the school teacher, Hall's also setting up the American Society for Encouraging the Settlement of the Oregon Territory. Yeah, I don't know what to tell

you. This dude's just stoked about Oregon. He's like Oregon country's propagandist, if that's a thing. Well, while Congress talks and the teacher writes, it's American fur traders who are demonstrating that the trek between places like St. Louis, Missouri and Oregon Country isn't a death trap. For instance, French-born U.S. Army Captain Benjamin Bonneville proves that, yes, a loaded wagon can get through the South Pass. That'll encourage settlement, especially since American author Washington Irving makes the fur trading captain the stuff of legend with his 1837 book, The Adventures of Captain Bonneville. But despite his cool factor, the captain, who will get a ton of stuff in my home state of Utah named after him,

even if it's mispronounced as Bonneville. And other American fur traders are a far cry from competing with the HBC's presence in Oregon. They need a game changer. Now, if you're pulling four Americans over the Brits, then praise God, literally, Because missionaries are the game changer. See, in 1831, four Indians from Oregon country take the fur traders route back to St. Louis. They're received like rock stars by the locals, but more importantly, one from the Nez Perce tribe, or in the original French, allegedly comments, quote, my people sent me to get the white man's book of heaven. You make my feet heavy with gifts and my moccasins will grow old carrying them. Yet the book is not among them. My people will die in the darkness and they will go a long path to other hunting

grounds. No white man will go with them and no white man's book to make the way plain. I have no more words. Close quote. So I'm emphasizing the alleged bit because there's serious doubt as to the accuracy of this unnamed Indian quote. Nonetheless, New York's Christian Advocate and Journal reports it as fact on March 1st, 1833. This, combined with sailors reporting that Northwestern Indians might be receptive to Christianity, gets Protestant missionaries

to start heading west. The first notable missionary is Jason Lee. Canadian-born but now residing, teaching, and preaching in the United States, Jason's asked by his former teacher, the president of Wesleyan University, Wilbur Fisk, to start a Methodist mission among the Indians of Oregon country. Jason takes on the task. Led by American fur trader Nathaniel Wyeth, he and his group depart from Independence, Missouri in 1834. Including their starting point, or rather, jumping off point, to use an Oregon Trail term. They travel the same path many future pioneers will take. And by the way, I'll lay that trail out for you later,

but as I talk you through these early trailblazers, just let the names and locations wash over your mind, knowing that if you get lost, it's cool. I got you. That said, Jason and his crew travel by the future state of Wyoming's Independence Rock and through its South Pass. Nathaniel sets up Fort Hall along future Idaho's Snake River on August 4th. Then Jason sets up his mission just off the Columbia River in Oregon Country's Willamette Valley. Think future Portland to Eugene in 21st century Oregon. Not only is this basically the end of the evolving Oregon Trail, but Jason's now set up the first permanent American settlement

here. More missionaries soon follow, like Dr. Marcus Whitman. This Presbyterian physician heads to Oregon in 1835 just to check it out because, you know, traveling for months on a sketchy, not entirely blazed trail is just no big deal. Well, in addition to gaining some fame by removing an arrowhead from a well-known mountain man, Jim Bridger, Dr. Whitman decides he's found his calling and heads back east to muster up more missionaries, one of whom he marries, a teacher named Narcissa. The newly wed Whitmans and another missionary couple, Henry and Eliza Spalding, make their way to Oregon country in 1836. Once there, the Whitmans set up a mission among the Cayuse tribe near Fort Walla Walla. Yes, think future Walla Walla, Washington, while the Spalding set up among the Nespierce Indians,

closer to future Lewiston, Idaho. But beyond setting up their missions, they also planted the seeds of further settlement. See, just in coming here, Narcissa and Eliza proved that women can make the journey. They're the first white women to traverse the Rockies. That's going to help convince American families they can do this too. Narcissa is also making the trip sound pretty tolerable. On the way to Oregon country back on June 27, 1836, she wrote to her in-laws, quote, it is astonishing how well we get along with our wagons where there are no roads. I think I may say it is easier traveling here than on any turnpike in the States.

Close quote. Ha! Hey, I get it. I've driven on the pike in Massachusetts, but let's get real. Beyond being hyperbolic, Narcissa wrote this near the Platte River, think future Nebraska, which isn't the hard part of the trail. Still, these kinds of letters will help convince people back east that this trip is doable. And soon enough, missionaries are inspiring other Americans to make this journey for

less religious reasons. Let's circle back to Jason Lee, the missionary who just founded the first permanent American settlement in Oregon country. In 1838, he goes on a speaking tour in the United States to encourage Oregon settlement. Jason says it's awesome, a land of milk and honey. He flashes a petition signed by Willamette Valley settlers calling for the protection of the United States and even has a small entourage of Kalapuya Indians with him. And when Jason gives a speech in Peoria, Illinois, he inspires some patriots to emigrate. The Peoria Party, aka the Oregon Dragoons, consist of 17 Peoria, Illinois men.

They want to strengthen the United States' claim on Oregon country and grow rich by pickling salmon. That's right. Pickled salmon. I know. I'm hungry now too. Anyhow, brandishing a flag with the bold words, Orgin or the grave, these resolute patriots leave their hometown on May 1st, 1838. Seen as they're our first group of full-on immigrants, that is, not missionaries or fur traders, which are more likely to be temporary residents. Let's see how they do, shall we? Right off the bat, these stalwart souls who swore to uphold one another before setting off start squabbling. They bicker about everything. It's like watching

the classic movie, 12 Angry Men, except there's 17 of them and there's no deep meaning behind any of it. After three weeks of this, they make it to independence. Yeah, that's the Oregon Trail's starting point, remember? Wow. Fur trader Andrew Sublett runs into our patriot pioneers and worries these obviously not mountain men are going to get themselves killed. He suggests they take the less direct but easier Santa Fe Trail. The group's captain, a lawyer named Thomas Jefferson Farnham, decides they'll take the Santa Fe Trail for a while, then cut back to the Oregon Trail a bit later. Sounds easy enough, right?

Yeah, these regular Davy Crockett's, and you can fully appreciate that reference after episode 29, God rest his soul, are hating the intense summer storms that follow them almost the moment they leave independence. Quote, hail and rain came down in torrents, close quote. Our law-trained, not outdoorsman captain writes in his journal. And this brings other problems. These geniuses figured they would hunt for a lot of the food they need. Well, that's not really going to work in the rain when you have flintlock rifles. Soon they are subsisting on daily rations of a fourth of a cup

of flour and three of our organ or die organ dragoons call it quits. Don't worry, it gets worse. In late June, two of the men get bickering. Totally normal for this crowd, except one of them, Sidney Smith, gets so fired up he reaches for his rifle, grabs it by the muzzle, and he accidentally shoots himself in the ribs. Oh, and of course, the group has no meaningful medical supplies. Seriously, these guys really should have done Boy Scouts. Just a joke. Scouting does not exist yet. But they soldier on. The group manages to take their bickering to an even higher level as they reach Bent's Fort, basically what will become southeastern Colorado, on July 5th.

And here, the party that swore to uphold each other just falls apart. They vote Captain Tom out. And I don't just mean out of his position as captain. I mean out of the party, right along with injured Sidney and one other guy. But then two guys decide they'd rather stick with the exiled trio, so basically we have two parties now. Ugh, this train wreck of a split party

fractures even further with some men traveling in pairs or even solo. We wanna hear about other trailblazers, so let's sum them up by saying that after more hunger, cold, and generally proving they are not mountain men, nine of the original 17 make it to Oregon while the other eight turn back or go somewhere else. So I guess by Oregon or die,

they meant Oregon unless it's hard, like really, really hard, then whatever. Joking aside, despite the Oregon Dragoons proving Narcissa's comment about Turnpike's inaccurate, settlers keep coming. Missionary Jason Lee, who clearly knows how much the emerging Oregon Trail sucks, sails back with another 40 missionaries. Meanwhile, 10 Oregon societies promoting settlement in Oregon country exist across the Mississippi Valley by 1839. And the following year, Robert Newell and Joseph Meek pull off something daring. After the two fur traders lead missionaries to Fort Hall, remember, that's in future Idaho, they decide to try taking wagons the rest of the way to Oregon country.

Traditionally, wagons are ditched at this point, yet the duo pull it off. Huh. That means wagons can make the whole trip from the United States to Oregon. Chalk up yet another important piece of the Oregon Trail blazed by these fur traders and missionaries. Was the Sphinx 10,000 years old? Were there serial killers in ancient Greece and Rome? What were the lives of transgender, intersex, and non-binary people like in the ancient world?

We're Jen and Jenny from Ancient History Fangirl. We tell you true stories and tall tales of the ancient world. Sometimes we do it tipsy. Sometimes we have amazing guests on our show. Historians like Barry Strauss, podcasters like Liv Albert, Mike Duncan, and authors like Joanne Harris and Ben Aronovich. We take you to the top of Hadrian's wall to watch the Roman Empire fall at the end of the world.

We walk the catacombs beneath the Temple of the Feathered Serpent under Teotihuacan. We walk the sacred spirals of the Nazca Lines in search of ancient secrets. And we explore mythology from ancient cultures around the world. Come find us at ancienthistoryfangirl.com or wherever you get your podcasts. Now at this point, 1841, President Harrison is drinking some nasty water, giving us pro-manifest destiny John Tyler as U.S. President. Rest in peace, President Harrison. At any rate, with American settlers in Oregon country calling for a stronger U.S. presence and growing support for and interest in Oregon settlement back in the United States, President John Tyler decides to apply some Uncle Sam pressure. He does so in two ways. One, John sending Dr. Elijah White as a low-level Indian agent to Oregon country. This will create a U.S. presence to offset the HBC

while still being weak enough, John hopes, to avoid upsetting the British. And two, he's sending an army expedition to check things out along the Oregon Trail as far as future Wyoming's South Pass. And its leader is none other than John C. Fremont. Both groups head out in 1842, but since Elijah's group leaves a month before John's, let's start with them. Elijah's been to Oregon country. The physicians serve the medical needs of Jason Lee's mission in the Willamette Valley for a few years before getting kicked to the curb in 1841. Elijah's a bit full of himself too. He wanted the Tyler administration to name him Oregon Country's governor. Yeah, that would piss off the British, so sub-Indian agent will do nicely.

Proud to be elected captain of the party, Elijah leads his group of at least 112 immigrants with just under 20 wagons from Missouri on May 16, 1842. Notably, only a little over 50 of them are grown men. That's right, this is our first group of family settlers. They need no selling on Oregon, but Elijah still regales them with tales of how wonderful the place is. One of the weirder moments of the trek goes down near the Kansas River. This is when Elijah, and I swear I'm not making this up, decides all the dogs in the party must be killed. It's not entirely clear if this is about rabies or concerns that the dogs' barks will attract Indians, but either way, Elijah wants them dead. He gets the party to vote in favor and they kill 22 dogs. There's still more

dogs, but after the 22nd, the wagon party has just hit its breaking point. They turn against him and while passing through future Nebraska, they even vote Elijah out as captain. He's replaced by Lansford Hastings with Asa Lovejoy as his lieutenant, and these two provide us with this party's other noteworthy story. See, carving your name into Independence Rock is becoming a thing among pioneers, kind of like putting a lock on a bridge in early 21st century Paris will be. So Lansford and Asa break away from the main group to carve their names, but while they are there, a group of Sioux Indians finds and captures them. This scares the crap out of them and makes for a long day, but in the end, they're freed.

This wagon party has other experiences that many a pioneer will face. Beat oxen and overloaded wagons force them to ditch personal belongings that prove too heavy, like feather beds, utensils, and even tools. They have to make hard decisions about whether to wait for the sick or not. A sick 16-month-old baby dies early on, and later, Adam Horn dies from a gun accident. Both are buried on the trail. But ultimately, the group makes it to Oregon country, where Elijah gets to feel self-important as the U.S. government's only officer,

while everyone else mostly ignores him. Lansford later heads to California, while Asa, Lovejoy, will help found the city of Portland. Now, while we're focused on Elijah, I hope you didn't forget about John C. Fremont's expedition. Traveling with a little over 20 men, including the famous mountain man Kit Carson, 29-year-old John has great success surveying out to the South Pass. They depart on June 10, 1842. I'm going to stay light on the

details of this trip because it's John's report that's of real interest. With his wife Jessie's help, John produces his Report of the Exploring Expedition to the Rocky Mountains in the year 1842, and it's quite a hit. John's report and other guides written by early settlers, like the 1842 group's captain who got captured by the Sioux, Lansford Hastings, become the Google Maps of the day for Oregon Trail travelers. Better yet, they're like the Thomas Guide, if you're old enough to get that 20th century reference. Point being, these guides are crucial for would-be pioneers. By the way, John's going to be with us for a while. This is the first of three expeditions John, the Pathfinder Fremont, will lead out west. I'll give you a more

detailed introduction to the handsome, dark-featured, intelligent, but guarded and rule-breaking explorer in a later episode, but not just yet. Right now, it's time to see the decades of fur trader and missionary trailblazing mixed with manifest destiny thinking and a bad economy culminate in the Oregon Trail's real explosion. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the Great Migration of 1843. In February 1843, Dr. Marcus Whitman, who, I'll remind you, is the Oregon country missionary married to Narcissa, the woman who described the trek west as easier than U.S. turnpikes, returns more than a bit frozen to Missouri.

It seems the American Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions has decided to pull its funding from the not-so-successful missions, and Marcus is making his way to Boston to plead their case. He gets the board not to pull the plug on the missions, then promotes in the New York Tribune that he'll be heading back to Oregon this summer, and Americans should come with him. Well, it isn't all Marcus is doing, but come May 1843, 875 pioneers, men, women, and children with 120 wagons and at least 3,000 cattle join him. They've hired the former army man and fur trader, John Gant, to lead the way. Now that's a wagon train. See why it's called the Great Migration of 1843 and not the so-so migration of 1843?

Now, since this is the last group we'll follow today, let's also talk about Oregon Trail life in general as we do so. Just getting to this point takes planning, time, and money. According to the Immigrant's Guide to Oregon and California, which will be written by our 1842 group's captain, Lansford Hastings, in 1845, each pioneer should bring, quote, 200 pounds of flour or meal, 150 pounds of bacon, 10 pounds of coffee, mules, or oxen to pull it, and we're talking at least $300 to $600. It will take some families years to get the provisions and cash needed to migrate. Others will borrow money or simply walk away from their unsold farms. Thanks again, Panic of 1837. No wonder the Oregon Trail video game is so much easier if you choose

to be a banker rather than a farmer. Well, let's get the show on the road. A popular Oregon Trail starting point, or jumping off point as it's called, is nearby or at Independence, Missouri. Yes, again, like the game. It sits just off the Missouri River at the state of Missouri's western edge, and it's where our 875 immigrants hang out before officially starting their journey at Elm Grove, Missouri on May 22, 1843. They'll now trek roughly 2,000 miles northwest, traveling through the future states of Kansas, Nebraska, Wyoming, Idaho, and finally Oregon. See, I told you earlier I'd lay out the Oregon Trail for you. Don't worry, I'll remind you of which landmarks are in which future states as we follow our settlers. They see rain early on and soon come to the Kansas River. Oregon Trail game players might recall that rivers present you with choices. You might try to ford it, that is, walk through it, which is fine if the current's slow and the water's shallow. Otherwise, you might use a ferry to get your wagon,

oxen, and family across. Ferries are set up on some rivers, and operators may charge as much as $5 per wagon and 50 cents per ox. And yes, you could caulk and float the wagon. These decisions would be made collectively by the party. As for our great migration settlers, they don't like the ferry's rates at the Kansas River, so they create their own and, over the course of a few days, get their nearly 1,000 person party across. Too bad that wasn't an option on the video game. We're now into early July. Missionary and physician Marcus Whitman, who's been among the Shawnee Indians, now catches up to the group. As they continue through Kansas, they follow some of the same paths John C. Fremont and Kit Carson used last year.

Conditions are such that at Kansas' Big Blue River, they can ford it. The Big Blue River is also where they split into two groups, or columns as they call it. Look, could you imagine moving in a group of 875 people? If you're one of the first to cross a river, it might mean days of waiting for the last family's wagon and oxen to make it. In fact, back at the Kansas River crossing, the early crowd nicknamed their camp, Camp Delay. So they split along cattle lines. Those with few or no cattle, think five at most, form one group. Those with five or more head of cattle, like the Applegate family, which has hundreds, form the other. They move close to one another, but logistically, yeah, this division is a smart change. Our massive,

now two-column wagon train has now made its way into future Nebraska. They stop at Fremont Springs, named for, yes, you guessed it, the dashing military surveyor and explorer who passed this way last year, John C. Fremont. He and mountain man Kit Carson scratch their names into sandstone in the vicinity. Fun fact, John's not far away right now. He's close to our massive wagon train with roughly 40 men, including Kit Carson, carrying out another expedition that'll make its way to California, but we'll save that story for another day. Our pioneers are now moving along future Nebraska's Platte River. Speaking hyperbolically, future immigrants will describe it as, quote, a thousand miles long and six inches deep. Not quite, but you get the point. Hundreds

of miles long and shallow at certain points. Jesse Applegate's journal from this part of the journey is an excellent insight on life as an Oregon Trail pioneer. Let me sum it up. The day starts at 4 a.m. That's when the men on guard duty fire their rifles as the camp's alarm clock. Little different from your smartphone alarm, isn't it? Over the course of the next hour, the party's thousands of cattle are corralled into circled wagons. Between 6 and 7, we have breakfast, taking down the tents and otherwise getting ready to move. If you're not ready to roll by 7, your wagon goes to the back of the line. Yeah, sucks to be you,

but the whole wagon train can't wait on slackers. Meanwhile, a hunting party might be riding off in other directions. Hopefully they'll find buffalo and bring back meat. Though sometimes that's not difficult at all. There are so many buffalo at this point. In fact, herds can stampede wagon trains. Around 12, it's nooning time. Yeah, lunch. A council that serves as an ad hoc government might meet during this time as well, but come 1 p.m., a bugle will sound.

That means it's time to get back on the trail. As sundown approaches, the wagon train goes as directed by the pilot. He'll have gone ahead, measured distances, and will make sure that the wagons all pull up in such a way as to form a perfect circle. Think about the math involved with that. The wagons are now connected from their tongues to ox chains. And yes, we've just circled the wagons. Not to be confused with something tasty like buffalo wings, buffalo chips will now serve as fuel for campfires. Dinners cooked, eaten, guards or sentries are on duty, and an instrument like a violin may come out.

The young dance and, yes, fall in love. Many newlyweds honeymoon on the Oregon Trail. What a crappy, or buffalo chippy, honeymoon. The next day, rinse and repeat. Assuming nothing goes wrong, like snake bites, illness, dysentery, stampedes, accidents, or about a million other things, that about sums up a typical day. With that pleasant thought, back to our 1843 pioneers, huh? Continuing to the western end of future Nebraska, they pass by landmarks like Courthouse Rock and Jail Rock. They're right next to each other and jet into the sky. Pushing into future Wyoming, two forts offer our immigrants the chance to spend some coin. One is Fort Platt, which is about one step away from being a liquor store. It sells mostly whiskey at four bucks a pint. The other is Fort Laramie, which, in addition to selling liquor, sells flour,

coffee, sugar, you know, things a wagon train needs. I'm guessing if they're blowing money, it's at Fort Laramie. Next, they pass by the massive dome-shaped Independence Rock. So named because some Americans celebrated the 4th of July here in 1824, this granite behemoth has the names of many pioneers carved in it. Just a few miles away is Devil's Gate, through which flows the Sweetwater River. These are all important landmarks on the way to the South Pass. Of course, the South Pass is an important marker itself. This is the one path through the Rockies. It's the Continental Divide. Our immigrants have a long way to go,

but they are technically now entering Oregon Country's future Idaho. When they reach Fort Hall, the HBC employee running it, a Scotsman named Richard Grant, does his best to encourage these Americans to go to California instead of Oregon country. A few peel off, but nothing close to putting a dent in this wagon train. He also tells them they should leave their wagons here if they plan to go to Oregon, because it's hard to go any farther with them, especially traveling to families. But screw that, they'll push forward anyhow, getting their wagons as far as the Dalles. Located in the modern state of Oregon, the Dalles has cliffs dropping off into the Columbia River. Now, my fellow Oregon Trail game players, you might remember rafting down this with your wagon

and ox, but many will hire local Indians to navigate them downriver toward Oregon City in the Willamette Valley. See, rafting the Columbia from the Dalles is a dangerous game. We're talking waterfalls, whirlpools, rocks jetting up in the middle of the river. Plenty of pioneers meet their watery end here, right at the finish line when they capsize or crash. Now starting in 1845, the Barlow Toll Road will open, offering a slower but safer path around Mount Hood. But many will still risk taking the Columbia River in the decades to come. Well, our massive immigrant train finishes its trek toward the end of 1843. And crucially, they've proven a large group with families can get their wagons to the Dalles. In fact, when a Baptist minister gets to Fort Hall the following year

and asks if wagons can make it any farther, the same Scottish HBC employee who tried to route the 1843 group to California, Richard Grant, answers that no, it's very difficult, but somehow that doesn't matter because, quote, you damn Yankees will do anything you like, close quote. Well, I guess you're not much of a pioneer if you're not pushing the envelope, right? So what becomes of Oregon country? Well, some Americans are ready to throw down with the UK for the whole of it. They come up with a chant that refers to Oregon Country's northern latitude lined by Alaska's panhandle, 5440 or fight. Damn. To their disappointment, the US president elected in 1844, James Polk, has a bit more chill than that. Although a fan of Manifest Destiny,

he agrees to a compromise treaty with the British in June 1846 that, with the exception of Vancouver Island, extends the 49th parallel U.S.-Canadian border east of the Rockies right over these massive mountains and into the Pacific Ocean. Problem solved. But the problem isn't solved for the indigenous peoples of the newly created Oregon Territory. As this happened back east, settlers displaced them, and this leads to increased violence. For example, there's a brutal attack on the Whitman mission on November 29, 1847. The intrepid missionaries Marcus and Narcissa Whitman have a well-established mission by this time, but tensions are running high with the local Columbia plain Indian tribes.

The tribes, especially the Cayuse, are tired of having their traditions disrespected and land taken over by whites. A group of resentful armed Cayuse men go to the mission on the pretext of getting medicine from Marcus. While the missionary talks with some of the men, one Cayuse tom go to the mission on the pretext of getting medicine from Marcus. While the missionary talks with some of the men, one Cayuse tomahawks him twice in the head and another shoots him in the neck. One witness says the Indian, quote, chopped the doctor's face so badly that his features could not be recognized, close quote. The fed up Indians proceed to kill 11 more people, including Marcus's wife, Narcissa. They also take over 50 people, mostly children, hostage and don't free them until the HBC steps in and pays a hefty ransom. Unfortunately, this attack and other violent

episodes fuels White's desire to settle the land and forces Indians onto remote reservations. And as Oregon organizes a formal government, we also find that racism towards African Americans has followed some settlers west. Pioneers vote for laws that exclude black settlers. First, they enact a law on July 5th, 1843 that prohibits slaves from living in Oregon. Basically, this establishes Oregon as a free territory. So way to go, guys. But the settlers go one step further in 1844, forcing any black person to leave the state within two years or be, quote, whipped no more than 39 times, close quote. As if this exclusion policy doesn't have enough teeth, Oregon voters pass an 1849 law that states, again, I quote, it shall not be lawful for any Negro or mulatto to

enter into or reside, close quote, in Oregon. Yikes. They technically never enforced this law, but one free black pioneer family from Pennsylvania chooses to settle north of Oregon Territory, near Puget Sound, in order to avoid trouble. By the time Oregon is ready to write a state constitution in 1857, voters uphold the territorial exclusion laws. Yes, Oregon constitution writers ensure that slavery will never be allowed, but they also write into the State Bill of Rights a clause that keeps any blacks from settling in the state, owning property, or making contracts. In short, just because Oregon will be a free state doesn't mean African Americans are on equal footing. And so, the Oregon Trail's peak years have officially started. American pioneers will

come by the thousands, hitting double digits in 1849 and breaking 50,000 in 1850. And the number of pioneers coming will stay strong until the Transcontinental Railroad is complete in 1869. If we use the Oregon Trail as an overreaching term that includes all pioneers heading west, be that California, Utah, Oregon, or elsewhere, as many as 350,000 risk the journey between 1840 and 1869. In other words, our time out west has just begun. History That Doesn't Suck is created and hosted by me, Greg Jackson. Researching and writing, Thank you. a bibliography of all primary and secondary sources consulted in writing this episode, visit historythatdoesntsuck.com. Join me in two weeks where I'd like to tell you a story. HTDS is supported by premium membership fans. You can join by clicking the link in the episode description. My gratitude to you kind souls providing additional funding to help us keep

going. And a special thanks to our members whose monthly gift puts them at producer status. Thank you. Justin May, Kristen Pratt, Karen Bartholomew, Cassie Koneko, Kim R, Kyle Decker, Lawrence Neubauer, Linda Cunningham, Mark Ellis, Matthew Mitchell, Matthew Simmons, Melanie Jan, Nick Seconder, Nick Caffrel, Noah Hoff, Owen Sedlak, Paul Goeringer, Randy Guffrey, Reese Humphries-Wadsworth, Rick Brown, Sarah Trawick, Samuel Lagasa, Sharon Thiesen, Sean Baines, Steve Williams, Creepy Girl, Tisha Black, and Zach Jackson.