“The ugly image of Chief Logan's pregnant sister, who had been shot, hung by her wrists and her belly slit open, had not been forgotten. [Jacob] Greathouse and his wife had been tethered each to a different sapling with a loop running from neck to tree. Their bellies had been opened just above the pubic hairs and a loose end of the entrails tied to the sapling. They had then either been dragged or prodded around so that their intestines had been pulled out of their bodies to wind around the trees as they walked. Mrs. Greathouse had apparently died before getting much more than half unwound, but Greathouse himself had stumbled along until not only his intestines but even his stomach had been pulled out and wound into that obscene mass on the tree. They had been scalped and burning coals stuffed into their bodies before the Indians departed…”
- Allan W. Eckert, The Frontiersmen: A Narrative
In order to discuss Allan Eckert’s The Frontiersman, we must start with the very first line on the very first page. It is from the Author’s Note, and states with an admirable – and as it turns out, unearned – sense of confidence.
“This book is fact, not fiction.”
That is not true, unfortunately. And it is something that must be grappled with, in dealing with a beloved entry into the canon of early American history.
But before we get to what The Frontiersmen is not – to wit: fact – let us begin with what it sets out to be.
Starting in 1755 and ending in 1836, The Frontiersmen (the first entry in Eckert’s relatively famous The Winning of America series) covers a big swath of early American history. As the title implies, it is focused on the frontier, and of the Indian Wars that flared and spattered like grease fires at various points in the Northwest Territory. Eckert corrals this sprawling tale (despite the corralling, it is still 588 pages of text) by focusing much of the narrative on Simon Kenton, a contemporary of Daniel Boone who never quite achieved Boone’s ubiquity.
In attempting to determine why The Frontiersmen is so popular – at least relative to other histories of this era – I decided it has much to do with the choice of Kenton as protagonists.
Eckert was clearly enamored of the “big frontiersman,” and describes him in a drooling, fetishistic manner: Tall, blue-eyed, auburn-haired, and heavily muscled (the muscles lovingly delineated in the mind’s eye). When first introduced, Kenton is a powerful-but-ungainly youth. However, after a section that can only be described as a training montage, he levels-up in record time. Soon, Kenton is a crack shot; an expert at shooting and reloading while on the move; an endurance runner who can lope along all day without getting tired; and a master scout, who can track a fart in a hurricane.
Essentially, Kenton is a superhero, whose superpower is killing Indians. This might be a bit disconcerting for modern readers. Yet Eckert neatly avoids this trap by making the Indians, especially the Shawnee leader Tecumseh, into equal players in this drama. (I’d say this is an almost fifty-fifty dual biography. It skews heavily towards Kenton in the first half; then, as Kenton ages out, the storylines shift to Tecumseh). Eckert’s interest in the various Indian tribes is not feigned or patronizing. He is genuinely fascinated by their language, customs, and war aims. The Indians in The Frontiersmen are not hapless victims; they are geopolitical players. Thus, Eckert is able to present an old-fashioned golly-gee-whiz adventure of a white man in the woods, without having to deal with all the baggage that typically encumbers such a premise.
Even if we only accept a percentage of his escapades as true, Kenton lived a remarkable life, filled with bloody battles, close encounters, and thrilling chases. In my opinion, though, Eckert hides the essential elements in a plodding, often pedantic style. Instead of carefully picking and choosing the important moments to focus on, Eckert prefers to go step by step. There are whole sections in The Frontiersmen that are devoted to the naming of random counties in Kentucky.
Several times I came close to the point of quitting. But then, just when I was about to set this down, Eckert would deliver a gripping set-piece, such as the Battle of the Wabash or the graphic description William Crawford’s torture at the stake.
That said, it’s time to get back to that opening line: “This book is fact, not fiction.”
The most notorious aspect of Eckert’s style is his reconstructed dialogue, a technique that he explains in his Author’s Note. Essentially, he took the information he purportedly found in primary sources and used it to create dialogue for his characters, giving a novelistic flair to his scenes. Along with the dialogue, he adds internal thoughts and mannerisms that could not possibly be known to any but the historian skilled in seances.
If you are a purist, this is an academic crime, pure and simple.
In all honesty, it did not bother me too much. A lifetime of studying history (and over a decade parsing contradictory police reports as a criminal defense attorney) has taught me an important truth about truth: That no two people have ever perceived and remembered an event in the same way. What we think of as “objective” history is really just a best-guess based on the strongest evidence. That’s especially true when we are putting words into people’s mouths. We all want to believe that Nathan Hale uttered his famous “I only regret I have but one life to give for my country” before being hanged, but the actual evidence for this is…well, let’s just say that Eckert is probably more accurate with his “invented” dialogue than whoever started the Hale myth.
(An aside about the dialogue: It’s terrible! If you’re going to make something up, at least make it good. Eckert’s imagined conversations are either tonelessly expository, hopelessly leaden, or outright embarrassing. At one point, a male character says to a female character: “Your breasts are ripe melons.” I would love, love, love to know in what library Eckert found that particular historical chestnut).
So, let’s leave aside the fake dialogue, and get to the real problem. The shoddy history.
If The Frontiersmen is the only book you read about this particular period in American history, you can absolutely be forgiven for placing your trust in Eckert’s work. He claims to have spent seven years researching the thing; he has citations (though they are not pinpointed to claims made in the text); and he writes with absolute assurance.
But if you have read about this period outside of The Frontiersmen, you will notice that perhaps Eckert’s certainty is not wholly justified. At first, this manifested itself in small ways. To take one example – since I just crossed the 1,000 word mark – there is the issue of Jacob Greathouse. Eckert claims that it was Jacob who triggered Lord Dunmore’s War in 1774 by slaughtering relatives of the Mingo warrior Logan along Yellow Creek. However, other sources (such as Glenn Williams’s Dunmore’s War) attribute the massacre to Jacob’s brother, Daniel. Moreover, Eckert claims that Jacob was brutally tortured and killed (excerpted at the top), while other sources say that the unfortunate Greathouse torture-recipient was another brother, Jonathan.
These are quibbles, of course, but telling.
The biggest problem here – calling in to question so much else that Eckert has written – has to do with the Shawnee Chief Blue Jacket.
According to Eckert, Blue Jacket was actually a white man named Marmaduke Van Swearingen. When I first read that unlikely name, my BS detector hit DefCon 1. After further research, it turns out that the name is legit, and that a man bearing the colorful appellation was apparently captured by the Shawnee. This somehow morphed into the legend that Van Swearingen was Blue Jacket. That legend, however, came into being decades after the events recounted here, from sources virtually no serious historian trusted.
And for good reason. Marmaduke Van Swearingen was not Blue Jacket. Likewise, Blue Jacket was not Van Swearingen. This was demonstrated through DNA testing, a procedure ultimately documented in The Ohio Journal of Science.
A mistake, right? Well, yes. And admittedly, Eckert could not have known that DNA testing would eventually sink his battleship. (This was first published in 1967).
But you see, there are entire scenes (with dialogue, naturally), of Van Swearingen/Blue Jacket living his dual life. Eckert even has his version of Blue Jacket kill his white brother at the Battle of the Wabash! Where – you must ask – is all this coming from?
It didn’t happen. Science proved this. Thus, either Eckert made it up (which is not likely), or else he is extremely gullible in his choice of sources (which is probably what happened). Knowing that huge chunks of The Frontiersmen are simply and utterly wrong is fatal to any acceptance of this volume as serious history. (This is before we even get to the Rebecca Galloway/Tecumseh affair, which appears to be based on a Galloway family legend, but here is treated with a near-biblical certainty).
What then, is The Frontiersmen?
I guess I don't know. For me, it did not work as history, or as fiction, or as historical fiction or fictionalized history. Your mileage, I suppose, will vary according to how much poetic license you can tolerate.
(Reviewer’s Note: I originally read and reviewed this in 2009. My star-rating at that time was twice what it is now. Upon rereading this, I can only say that I was far less skeptical in my youth).