My Sixty Years on the Plains

by William Thomas Hamilton

In his concise, richly detailed memoir My Sixty Years on the Plains fur-trapper W. T. Hamilton - also known as ‘Wildcat Bill’ - gives the reader a first-hand account of life outdoors in the Old West. From trailblazing to trading with Indians, Hamilton relates how a mountain man relied on his wits and specialized knowledge in order survive the inhospitable environments.

Genres: History, Nonfiction, Biography, American History, Westerns, Autobiography, Audiobook

184 pages, Kindle Edition

First published January 1, 1905

About the author

William Thomas Hamilton (1822 - 1908), also known as Wildcat Bill, was a mountain man, trapper, and scout of the American West. Some accounts say he was "Scottish born", others that he was in the River Till area of Northumberland. He and his parents emigrated to the USA from Scotland while he was an infant.

Trapping from an early age, in the 1850s he became an Indian fighter and at the end of the decade established a trading post, concurrently holding a variety of jobs including county sheriff.

Reviews

[Irena Pasvinter · Rating 4 out of 5]

After a disappointment of the fascinating but fictional pseudo-memoir Three Years Among the Comanches by Lee Nelson (who turned out to be known to Wikipedia as raconteur), I wanted to read a "real" Wild West memoir. So, before starting "My Sixty Years on the Plains", I looked up what Wikipedia had to say about the author:

William Thomas Hamilton (frontiersman): William Thomas Hamilton (December 6, 1822 – May 24, 1908), also known as Wildcat Bill, was an American frontiersman and author of Scottish and English heritage.

Well, not just a raconteur then! And indeed, this short memoir proved to be a fascinating document of its time. I listened to the audiobook version, but upon finishing also got the ebook version on Amazon to mark all the fascinating quotes, which, unloaded here, will provide the bulk of this lazy and rambling review, with a few additional comments thrown in around the quotes.

One of the fascinating topics of this memoir, to which Bill Hamilton returns repeatedly, is the Plains Indian Sign Language. I've already heard about the existence of this silent language used as lingua franca by the plain Indians, but never in such detail as here. Unexpectedly for himself, his fellow trappers and native Americans, young Bill turned out to have a great talent to learn the hand talk, which he kept perfecting and using through all his years on the plains.


This is highlighted already in the book's preface:

He was also acknowledged by all to be the greatest sign-talker on the plains, either Indian or white; and was able to converse with all tribes. All Indian tribes use the same signs, though speaking a different language. Sign-talking among Indians will soon be a lost art, for the present generation is not handing its knowledge down to its children. In 1882, while Mr. Hamilton was a witness in the Star Route trial in Washington, the Smithsonian Institution endeavored to photograph these signs, but with indifferent success.


Plains Indian Sign Language, 1900. (Image credit: Lincoln County leader, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons)

And then there are lots and lots of fascinating example of the power and versatility of the Plains Sign Language:

Williams and Perkins had but a limited knowledge of sign-language, but sufficient to do the trading. All these signs I learned easily, much to their astonishment. They both claimed that they would never become experts, but that if I kept on in the way I had started I would soon be the most perfect of any white man on the plains. It came to me without any effort and certainly surprised me. The other men had been observing my aptness and were astonished. They were indifferent sign-talkers, but good in everything else that goes to make a thorough mountaineer. It has always appeared strange to me that so many intelligent men, who had been for so many years among Indians, trading and otherwise, were so deficient in knowledge of sign-language. Some assert that facility in the language is due to linguistic talent; but be that as it may, as I said before, the art was acquired by me without any effort.

After supper I accompanied the chief’s son, Swift Runner, through the village. He was about my own age and took a great liking to me, taking considerable pains in teaching me signs. He introduced me to all the leading men in the village, telling them that I was his friend.

Finally the Crows asked for some tobacco, which Williams gave them with the understanding that they were to leave at once, and they did, casting in sign to us, “Mean white men,” all of which I understood.

The Shoshones were delighted at my proficiency in sign-language, for by this time I was able to converse on any and all subjects. It must have been very amusing to hear the many questions the women asked me. “What tribe had I been raised with?” “Where was my woman?” “Had I left her?” They would not believe that this was my first experience.

By this time I was almost equal to the best sign-talker in the village. Bear in mind that not all Indians are good sign-talkers. Dunces among them are as common as among whites. Washakie would look at me quizzically and ask me with what tribe I had been raised? He could not or would not believe that this was my first experience among Indians.

The chief was a fair sign-talker, but he was somewhat astonished to see a smooth-faced boy who could excel him. He asked me what tribe I belonged to, or if I was a half-breed. Our men understood all this, and rallied me plenty about being a half-breed.

Many Shoshones were present at Fort Bridger, and they asked me all kinds of questions by signs, all of which I answered correctly, to the astonishment of old trappers. Even Bridger asked me where I had learned sign-language. I pointed to Williams and said, “From him.” “Not so,” said Bridger, “for you can teach him signs.” He asked Williams where I had come from and he was answered truthfully, but did not believe what he was told. Many old-timers thought I had been raised by some tribe. Even to-day people believe the same. Enough of this — it is sufficient to say that in one year from the time I started I was considered the most proficient in sign-language of all white men on the plains.

When we reached the Fort we saw a number of Nez Percés Indians on the parade ground surrounded by officers. We attracted considerable attention owing to our fringed buckskin and moccasins. The Indians immediately asked us in sign-language where we had come from? We answered in signs, much to the astonishment of both officers and Indians, who did not expect such proficiency from us. Colonel Wright, the commanding officer, invited us to his office and asked us many questions, which we answered truthfully, after which he engaged us as scouts.


An early glossary of handshapes used in Plains Indian Sign Language. This reference was compiled by Col. Garrick Mallery to facilitate description and cataloguing of signs used in Plains Indian Sign Language. (Image credit: The American Bureau of Ethnology, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons)

And this is especially interesting, language-wise:

I asked the chief if he had any idea whence sign-language originated, and he answered as many other old Indians have, that he did not know. It was handed down from father to son. Don Alvares, a Chilian, once told me that the Indians who occupied the base of the Andes Mountains used almost the same signs as the North American Indians.

Another fascinating and completely unexpected leitmotiv of this memoir is... reading! William Hamilton seems to have been a relatively well-educated man, at least by the "wild" mountaineers standards -- he mentions he came from a relatively well-to-do family and had five years of schooling.

This is further-confirmed by him comparing mountaineers to Spartans. Did he read Herodotus? Well, he must have read one thing or another about the ancient history, maybe in popular retelling.

Then I thought of Leonidas and his handful of men repelling Xerxes and his immense Persian army. Could they be any braver or of finer metal than these trappers? As such thoughts passed through my mind, I came to the conclusion that the American nation might well feel proud of her mountaineers, who fearlessly explored the unknown wilderness, encountering and overcoming untold difficulties and dangers by the mere force of their own indomitable will-power and courage. The true mountain men have never received the credit which they justly merited for their part in bringing this unknown country to light.

And then comes the most surprising (to me, at least) claim of all:

I found the Scotchman and the Kentuckian well educated men. The latter presented me with a copy of Shakespeare and an ancient and modern history which he had in his pack. We had an abundance of reading matter with us; old mountain men were all great readers. It was always amusing to me to hear people from the East speak of old mountaineers as semi-barbarians, when as a general rule they were the peers of the Easterners in general knowledge.

I bet not having TV and internet also had a lot to do with being great readers.

The days were given to horseracing, foot-racing, shooting-matches; and in the evening were heard the music of voice and drum and the sound of dancing. There was also an abundance of reading matter for those inclined in that direction.

The next morning we packed up and reached the lower end of the lake and remained there two days on account of rain. Beaver were scarce, and the time was spent in reading and looking after stock.

In July, 1844, we reached a beautiful valley called to-day Honey Lake Valley, but at that time without a name. We remained here three months, enjoying ourselves as only men can who love the grandeur of nature. Our time was spent in exploring, hunting, fishing, reading, and practicing with all arms.

Of course, William Hamilton is very much the man of his time and place. In his head the Indians are categorized as friendly and hostile. He is sincerely interested in the way of life of those who are friendly. He fights those who are hostile, and takes and preserves their scalps in very much the same way as they take scalps of hostile Indian tribes and white dogs. The only difference between them and him is that he doesn't really cherish the scalps of his enemies as precious trophies and might present them to the friendly Indians, if they feel so inclined.

But even though the author might develop friendships with some of the friendlier Indians and might even admire some of them, he is not at all bothered with what will happen to them with the encroachment of the "civilized" world upon their traditional habitat.

The Indians were enjoying themselves to their hearts’ content with their nightly scalp-dances. Williams and I remained in their village one night and I visited most of their lodges. They were neat, clean, and well furnished. The Indians were hospitable to friends. They had an abundance to eat, such as camas root, none of which is produced far east of the Rocky Mountains, dried fish, meats, and berries. They occupied a rich and beautiful country, and Williams in commenting on it, said, “The time is not far distant when this country will teem with life and the Indian will pass away.”

Sometime along the way, attracted by the powerful pull of the Gold Rush, William Hamilton and a few of his mountaineer companions travel to California to join on the gold fun and become miners. And when one of the local Indian tribes decides to scalp a few of the lonely gold miners on remote locations, Hamilton and his friends, as experienced veterans of hostile Indian encounters, are called to fight the enemy. Which they do, with the fight turning into a massacre.

The Indians now became frantic and they jumped into the creek en masse, women, men, and children all mixed up. Perkins’s force charged over the breastwork and, amid the greatest screaming, howling, and yelling one ever heard, killed what few Indians were there. About thirty of the men escaped. We captured the women and children who remained. Many of the latter had fallen, which could not be avoided, for they were mingled with the men, and the miners shot at anything that looked like an Indian.

We destroyed everything in the shape of lodges and scalped all the men. Every miner had one scalp and some two, besides a quantity of bows and arrows and guns. After the fight a council was held and many of the miners were in favor of wiping out the women and children whom we had captured, but the trappers persuaded them not to do so. We considered for some time taking the women prisoners, but concluded they would be a burden. The men who had escaped would return soon after our departure, and there was no danger that they would starve, as berries and roots were plentiful.

All in all, it was a fascinating read. Not for the tender-hearted though. And also not for those who prefer reading about how the history would have looked if it could be restaged by the politically-correct inhabitants of the 21st century, instead of how it really was.

[Edward Gwynne · Rating 4 out of 5]

Fascinating account of time spend on the Great Plains in the 19th century.

[Robert Cox · Rating 4 out of 5]

Told more as a story in hindsight than a faithful journaling of events. Like the way your great grandpa might tell you about WWII. The benefit of this style of retelling is that it is exceptionally easy to read and doesnt have to be burdened down with the everyday realities of "moved up river 5 miles. Caught two beavers".

WT Hamilton is often overcome with his own greatness. You'll find he is pretty much the best at anything he sets himself to from shooting, fighting, riding ponies, hunting or signing with the Indians (source - WT Hamilton).

[Tommy Hayne · Rating 3 out of 5]

While the book is informative, it is a sad example of our feeling of superiority and destroying the West by removing all life...Native Americans, Beavers, Bear, Buffalo...rather that a coexistence, there is elimination. I was tempted to rate it 4 star as it is a first hand account of the life of a trapper, but for me personally I had to stick with three star.

[Cav · Rating 4 out of 5]

This was a super-interesting account of life on the frontiers of the Wild West. Author William Thomas Hamilton (December 6, 1822 – May 24, 1908), also known as Wildcat Bill, was an American frontiersman and author of Scottish and English heritage, according to his Wikipedia page.

William Thomas Hamilton :


My Sixty Years on the Plains is a short historical account of Hamilton's experiences on the Great Western Plains, as its title implies. The stories it details paint a grim picture of this historical epoch. It was an extremely violent time; there are many accounts of raids, scalpings, and blood-thirsty attacks by Indians:

"...We had a fairly well-fortified position, and it stood us well in hand to have it so. The Indians, knowing our number, would attack us seven or eight to one, and perhaps more.
Trappers in those days were obliged always to contend against overwhelming numbers; but they never hesitated, and it was always a fight to win, for defeat meant death.
The first wolf howls were soon followed by others, coming from points nearer and in a semicircle. Indians are expert in imitating the cries of wolves or coyotes, and it is very hard to distinguish them from the cries of the real animals. On the other hand, even after years of practice, few whites can successfully imitate these animals. The hooting of the owl is frequently used as an Indian signal in attacking camps. All these signals are carefully studied by trappers and scouts, who are rarely deceived.
The Indians must have located our camp from the mountains, which were at no great distance, as our one lodge was set up in a Cottonwood grove, which concealed it.
We had not long to wait before the attack commenced. Just at break of day the signals ceased, and the trappers knew that the crisis was at hand.
The Indians crept to within one hundred yards of camp before they gave the war-whoop. Then they came madly charging, fully one hundred in number.
The trappers had their rifles in hand and their pistols out of their scabbards ready for instant use after the rifles were discharged. We let them get within fifty yards before delivering a shot, and at the discharge of the rifles many fell. Three of our men were armed with double-barrelled shotguns, loaded with a half-ounce ball and five buckshot, deadly weapons at close quarters. These were now discharged and the Indians halted. Immediately the trappers began with their six-shooters, one in each hand, for as a result of long and constant practice they could shoot equally well with either. Every condition of his life obliged the trapper to be expert in the use of firearms..."

It wasn't all blood and death, though. The book also details many peaceful and mutually beneficial encounters between the Frontiersmen and the Indians, including smoking the peace pipe, and exchanging furs and meats.

There was an interesting bit of writing on pemmican, and other foods prepared on the plains at the time:

"Pemmican is manufactured in the following manner. The choicest cuts of meat are selected and cut into flakes and dried. Then all the marrow is collected and the best of the tallow, which are dissolved together over a slow fire to prevent burning. Many tribes use berries in their pemmican. Mountaineers always do unless they have sugar. The meat is now pulverized to the consistency of mince meat; the squaws generally doing this on a flat rock, using a pestle, many specimens of which may be seen on exhibition in museums. A layer of meat is spread, about two inches thick, the squaws using a wooden dipper, a buffalo horn, or a claw for this work. On this meat is spread a certain amount of the ingredients made from the marrow and tallow, the proportion depending on the taste. This same process is repeated until the required amount is secured.
One pound of pemmican is equal to five pounds of meat.
Buffalo tongues are split the long way and dried for future use, and thus prepared are a delicacy fit for a prince.
Another important article of food, the equal of which is not to be had except from the buffalo, is *'depuyer'' (d^pouille). It is a fat substance that lies along the backbone, next to the hide, running from the shoulder-blade to the last rib, and is about as thick as one's hand or finger. It is from seven to eleven inches broad, tapering to a feather edge on the lower side. It will weigh from five to eleven pounds, according to the size and condition of the animal. This substance is taken off and dipped in hot grease for half a minute, then is hung up inside of a lodge to dry and smoke for twelve hours. It will keep indefinitely, and is used as a substitute for bread, but is superior to any bread that was ever made. It is eaten with the lean and dried meat, and is tender and sweet and very nourishing, for it seems to satisfy the appetite.
When going on the war-path the Indians would take some dried meat and some depuyer to live on, and nothing else, not even if they were to be gone for months..."

My Sixty Years on the Plains was a fascinating look at the life of author William T. Hamilton on the frontier, as well as an important historical work that serves as a great reference to this epoch. I just wish that the book was a bit longer, and went into more detail. The book was a bit lacking in cohesion and direction, and reads a bit like a campfire pipe-smoking talk from grandpa.
This didn't detract too much from the writing here, though, and I still found this one really interesting. I would definitely recommend it to others.
4 stars.

[John · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is the memoir of an independent mountain man, trapper, etc. The greater portion of the book discusses and expedition begun when he was 19 with a company of trappers. There is a discussion of the Indian tribes they traded and fought. He is up front about their scalping and makes no apologies for their fights with Indians (he says it was in the context of recovering stolen horses and defending themselves).

It does appear that they were pretty indiscriminate in trapping all of the beavers and other fur-bearing animals they could find. While they claimed they did not bother the Indians (they wanted to trade with them) they would not pay rent, tribute, etc. to the tribes for the use of their lands. Although never explicitly stated, they were clearly driven by views on manifest destiny and "civilization."

I listened to the audiobook. It is included in Audible Plus. It is short and worth a listen if you are interested in the old west.

[John Hansen · Rating 5 out of 5]

I enjoyed this book. It was a quick read (96 pg) but one I couldn't put one down. Primary focus was on trading and fighting with the Indians. Fairly good detail as to the food, dress and Indian/mountain man culture. Entertaining.

[Ryan Bybee · Rating 5 out of 5]

What a lifestyle! I was enthralled by the small details of daily trapper life that would occasionally be discussed in this account. Those men were absolutely incredible. And I now really want to own a buckskin suit! Even as I read it, I couldn’t believe there were men who lived year round outdoors, sleeping under the stars, experiencing the acute hardships of bitter cold winters with apparent ease. I have actually found myself viewing some of my own hardships and difficulties through a different lens after reading this. They were hardworking and resourceful in a way I wish to be. Their diet seemed to consists almost entirely of meat or other animal byproducts like spinal fat (uh yeah, I said spinal fat). Little else was discussed, though occasional berries were eaten when they could be found. That’s what we would call in modern parlance an “unbalanced diet.” And yet the only deaths I remembered were from Indians or accidents, no coronary artery disease there. =) It does make me think twice about my own diet. Am I eating enough red meat??

Now that the western United States, and quite probably the entire US, is divided up and fenced in, a large part under private ownership, I wonder if you even could live a nomadic lifestyle today the way those trappers did?

And I was surprised by the many accounts of American Indian fights and slaughters, callously discussed in a business-like way, as if it were all in a days work. And truly, thus it must have been. The frontier life was hard and unforgiving, and even a more civilized life in the mid-1890s was still a far cry from our lives today. Death could meet you at any time, disfiguring injuries were commonplace, heck, you even had no Tylenol. Westward expansion was fraught with perils, and it was sad to view the cool savagery that both natives and frontiersmen showed each other during clashes.

[Ron Chinchen · Rating 5 out of 5]

I'm always intrigued by the first hand recorded experiences of those who live through events, more than historians, who often see things second hand. There is a sense of being there, sensing what these people seem to sense, how they understand their world, the dangers, the adventures, the commitment some of them make. I've read several first hand stories of experiences in the US West during the nineteenth century and the imagery leaves me enthralled.

This is story of a man who seems to have been in the middle of so much that was happening in those areas, even up to Custer's Last Stand, and gives a real raw sense of what it must have been like to live the lives of these quite extraordinarily brave and adventurous people who risked so much and yet gained so much. Though the latter chapters tend to be a rush through his later life, which is unfortunate because I feel could have been just as interesting, the descriptions of Hamilton's early life as a free trapper and trader are quite eye opening. Of course, his attitudes towards the animals they hunted and trapped and the Indians, would not pass the political correctness of today.

Hamilton's attitude's are far more primal, survivalist, and brutal than would make us comfortable today. His perception of the virtue of these hard living men, though obviously fitting for the times, would be cringed at today, and I doubt many of the Indian tribes would have shared his opinion. But this was a man of his time and though I sense much is glorified and distinctly partial, it is what it is, a story of a quite remarkably brave, but brutal group of men facing a world unknown to anyone living today, surviving life by his wits and skills. It has many flaws, but that makes it more real. A good read, well written and quite educational regarding the life these people lived.

[Fredrick Danysh · Rating 4 out of 5]

William T. Hamilton was a mountain man, trapper, trader, lawman, and Indian fighter. Originally published in 1905, the work gives a view of frontier life during the last half of the nineteenth century from the outdoorsman perspective. A nice addition for the library of any history buff of the American West.

[Miltiadis Michalopoulos · Rating 4 out of 5]

A few thoughts on this book. It is the memoirs, or should I say, the memories of a trapper and an Indian fighter. Now, let's see: first of all this is a guy with guts. At the age of 20 he goes with a famous trapper, Mr Williams, and his group, to learn the secrets of the job. This is not a diary. The author recalls his memories and probably some other guy has written them down.
Important things. Trappers were very tough guys. They were ready to kill for their interest and they were very very dangerous. There are two kinds of Indians: the friendly Indians who are willing to trade goods with the trappers (like the Shoshones) and the hostile Indians, who are waiting for the right moment to steel the trappers' horses and other goods. The latter were killed by the trappers and very often retaliations were hard.
Before reading this book I thought that scalping was an Indian custom. But as Hamilton admits, this became also a trapper's custom. They scalped unhesitatingly every Indian they killed and kept his sculp with them...
Another important issue is that the Indian warriors were no match for the white adventurer. I was suspecting this but it became clear in this book: one trapper could outfight 5 Indians !
Also the myth about Indian marksmanship: no, they were not very good in shooting, at least compared with the white men.
The book provides invaluable information for the wargamer and the wild west enthusiast, but one has to keep in mind that this is a personal narrative and is biased by the author's prejudices.
In case anyone is interested, have marked many quotes from the book, all visible to everyone.

[Shannon · Rating 4 out of 5]

The author went into a lot of detail about the first roughly decade of his life out trapping, etc. and then just skimmed over the rest really fast. Overall, good story-telling and I learned much that sent me down other rabbit holes.

[Paul · Rating 2 out of 5]

A memoir first published in 1905. The author displays a near total lack of insight and introspection into his own actions. This book is only worthwhile as a historical documentation of the frontier mentality that led to the genocide inflicted on Native Americans.

[Robert Daws · Rating 5 out of 5]

Very Good History of the West

Very engaging stories of interactions with Native Americans. I found the history very fascinating and would highly recommend this to anyone interested in surviving the the mid-1800s!!

[Malakai · Rating 4 out of 5]

If you liked The Revenant, this would certainly be worth a read. I wonder why there are no trapper movies? Perhaps, trapping beavers isn't as heroic as cattle rustling and shoot outs at the saloon.
I wonder exactly how honourable this account is.

[Rich · Rating 4 out of 5]

The title of the book is somewhat misleading, as the author covers about twenty years on the plains over roughly ninety-five percent of the book. The last few pages skim over more than thirty years, leaving many questions. It was interesting reading though, well written and very credible.

[Axel · Rating 3 out of 5]

A brief snapshot in the life and times of a mid-1800s free trapper in the North American frontier. From encounters with Indigenous tribes, friendly and warring, to the mundane habits of daily life on the frontier, to gold mining, fur trading, trapping, hunting fishing, and more.
** warning if you're a bit squeamish, there is a lot of scalping and fighting throughout, as was the times

[rev. ken sellers · Rating 2 out of 5]

A narrative by an egotist

I read this book for another view on mountain men. It turned out to be anti-native American. I was very disappointed.

[Cade · Rating 2 out of 5]

This book sounds exciting, and there is certainly a good bit of fighting. However, the tone is more matter-of-fact than seat-of-your-pants. In Hamilton's story, he and his fellow "mountain men" are all unerringly brave, kind, honest, clever, hard working, and generally wholesome. They win every bet and get the best of every trade. They can all shoot and ride horses like action heroes in movies. I'm willing to grant that these men may well have had many of these qualities in above-average measure. However, he lays it on a little too thick to make it entirely believable. Once you start to doubt a little, then it is hard to know where to stop. That doubt seriously undermined my ability to appreciate this book.

Also, the title is a little misleading. The book is basically a history of all the Indians he ever fought. He did this in the context of trapping and trading, but the book pretty much just mentions that he did some trapping and trading as a segue between the many accounts of battles against Indians. If you are interested in action, this will suit you. If you are interested in "tasting" a first hand account of living in the pre-Wild West frontier, you will likely be disappointed as there is next to nothing written about the activities, tools, and techniques of his daily life.

[William Rabjohn · Rating 4 out of 5]

Glorified memoir of dominion over nature, war, and genocide

Hamilton proudly tells his memoir as a trapper and Indian fighter as any man who survives such difficulties with a certain claim of self sufficiency and any acts of fighting or killing is justified in his own recollection. He points out the failings of others and none of his own as most men do when they are the last man standing. Early in life, he loves the frontier and is fascinated with the Indians but slaughters them later justifying it as retaliation against Indian aggression. He doesn't convey an understanding that it is his kind that was invading the area for greed. Surprisingly, fur trading was big money and the abundance of animals made trapping a lucrative occupation. He doesn't grasp a need for conservation but the memoir points to areas being trapped out. I really enjoyed his youthful stories of discovering his trade, beauty of nature, and fascination of different cultures but his story turns to glorification of war and unquestioned genocide which grieves the modern reader.

[Erich · Rating 5 out of 5]

Often, books from the "old days" are hard to read. Not so this one. Entertaining and informative, Hamilton's Journal describes life as a trapper, trader and mountain man. On one side it becomes visible how beautiful the free life as a mountaineer was - even though it was a hard one. On the other hand, the book shows how the palefaces spread throughout the west. Time and again they clashed with local Native Peoples.

[Donna · Rating 2 out of 5]

Repulsed by this book and its egoist writer. Kill native animals, fight with/kill native Indians, repeat - time and time again. Throw in how fabulously clever the writer is, repeat. It should be hard to believe the praise this book has received but sadly it's not.

[Wayne Taylor · Rating 5 out of 5]

Enthralling account of the daily adventures of the early Mountain Men of during the 1840's and 1850's. Though the book is title "My 60 Years..." the tales end in 1876 - more like "my 25 years".

[Leothefox · Rating 4 out of 5]

I picked up this book eight years ago at a paperback exchange that closed forever a month later, generally on a whim with the slight notion that it might prove useful for research someday.

For research it is, in fact, useful, for it is full of tidbits about mountain men, pemmican, fur trappers, and (as the cover promises) “Indian fighting”. Hamilton keeps much of this somewhat vague, actually, looking back on his life from old age, but still one idea remains in crystal clarity throughout: that Hamilton is the best at everything. His greatest significance seems to have been his ability to use the sign language that the Native America tribes used to communicate when linguistic gaps existed. However, never mind about the Native Americans, because Hamilton assures us that he is better at their signs than they are and that he came naturally to it from the first.

Plenty of blood here and lots of natural places are mentioned, and we get some notion of what they were like before they were settled. Utah, Oregon, Washington, and California are all in there, among others.

Hamilton and his fellow mountain men moved all around the wild western frontier in the mid 19th century and were in several skirmishes. If one is patient, they can gather a lot of interesting details out of “My Sixty Years on the Plains”. Patience is the important thing, though, since one has to wade through large helpings of the author's own ego, which includes no small amount of disdain for various tribes, and he's more than happy to name them.

Mind you, he is friendly with some tribes, but he still talks of these in dismissive language. Even the ones he doesn't brand as thieves he still implies they're cheaters and cowards. These are the ones he likes, the ones that he doesn't he shoots and scalps them.

I have to wonder why the “civilized” American trappers mutilated the Natives they killed by scalping them, other than some shallow idea about revenge. I figure a Native American scalping some gold miner is cultural, but the reverse is just petty.

For the most part, the modern reader may feel comfortable to heap judgment on Hamilton (I did, see?), but it doesn't change the fact that he was there in that time and place and he put down this first hand account.

The book is also a quick read, clocking in at under a hundred pages. I got it for like $3 and it was worth every penny.

[Frode · Rating 4 out of 5]

This book was first published in 1905 when Hamilton was 83 and is his story. His desire when writing the book was to describe the life of the western mountaineer or as we know them today, the mountain men. The full title includes “Trapping, Trading, and Fighting Indians,” and that is what the book is about, and a tale it is.

He arrived in America as a 2 year old child, was mostly reared in St. Louis, and had five years of formal schooling. A doctor ordered a change of climate when he was 20 years old, so his dad arranged for Bill to accompany a party of hunters and trappers for a year. He fell in love with freedom and the life on the plains and mountains and never really looked back. The call of the wild was in his blood.

He was a quick study and became fluent in sign language very soon. He was so good that Indians used to ask him what tribe he was raised with. He became a better sign talker than anyone in the West, Indian or white. His party left St. Louis on March 15, 1842. Over time he traveled over most of the West. He was in California as part of the gold rush. He was in Washington, Idaho, Wyoming, Colorado, Montana, Oregon, California, Utah, virtually every western state at one time or another.

His narrative is very plain spoken. There are no huge dramas, just a quiet story about what went on. Battles with Indians are noted here and there, but he was friendly with many tribes also. He reports on taking scalps, racing horses, trading for pelts, gambling and shooting contests, and all manner of things in pretty much the same manner. It was how he and his friends lived, and those are the facts.

It was an easy book to read; the narrative flowed well. It was a struggle to live and stay alive, but Bill and his companions thrived in that element. The book gives a picture of a life we will never know except through books. Read it, learn from it, and enjoy your time with the book.

[Brian Rogers · Rating 2 out of 5]

This is a completely straight-faced, no frills account of one man's time working the plains in the 19th century. He's hardly a reliable narrator as his opinion of his younger self and all of his friends from that time orders on hagiography. The book ends up being hella-racist in terms of European relations with the Native Americans, but I have no doubt that it was not just his heartfelt opinion but the majority view of all of his contemporaries, which makes it a useful time capsule of the time period. I found it very slow in parts, and depressing in that contemporary majority world-view in others.

But the big redeeming feature of the book is that it is absolutely a reference to successful Fantasy RPG Murder-Hoboing. The narrator and is friends are constantly training for combat while they head into lands that lack any legal or judicial structure that could effectively bind them in search of difficult to obtain treasure. They do whatever the hell they want, disdain any civilian authority that attempts to direct or mitigate their behavior, belittle anyone who doesn't live as they do, occasionally accept jobs from government/military sources if they're fun/lucrative enough, and otherwise behave exactly like classic mid-level D&D characters who know they can kill their way out of any problem they get themselves into because the early editions of the rules relied on resource attrition over several encounters rather than individual encounter risk.

Seen in that light it's a useful book to be shelved next to both my OSR gaming supplies and my Knuckleduster's Firearms Shop western supplements.

[Dave · Rating 3 out of 5]

The author is adventurous, brave, not humble, and seems, toward the end of his life, to take pride in experiencing an often rough life as a young man in the old west.

Hamilton was born to wealth but lived the life of a trapper in the 1840s and 50s, making good money off pelts but seeing a number of colleagues killed by Native American raids and doing a good bit of killing himself. He's enlightened enough to make note of the vast differences between the tribes in hospitality, hygiene, fighting skill, etc. but he was a man of his time and that comes through in the text.

- The author really beats the reader over the head with how great he was at Native sign language

- Over and over a Native tribe takes offense or decides they wish to rob Hamilton and his party, and then inexplicably charge a fortified position, take heavy losses, and lose all sense of direction when their chief falls

- Soooooo many people got scalped

- It made my heart to read about the women and children, White and Native, who came to a violent end

- The Hudson Bay River Company apparently treated their employees like garbage and attempted to create an artificial monopoly via regulatory capture. Nearly 200 years later, and what has changed with corporate behavior?

- The author also interacts with other big parts of American history - meeting Mormon pioneers on the trail and trying his hand at California gold mining after the rush of '49

- Overall worth the read, a chapter or two at a time is best

[Paul Peterson · Rating 4 out of 5]

A first-hand account of sixty years living on the plains and mountains as a trapper and fighter...right up my alley. Not professionally written, but that lends all the more to it's authentic feel.

"Give me the man who has been raised among the grand things of nature! He cultivates truth, independence, and self-reliance. He has lofty thoughts and generous impulses. He is true to his friends and true to the flag of his country."

"Then I thought of Leonidas and his handful of men repelling Xerxes and his immense Persian army. Could they be any braver or of finer metal than these trappers?...the American nation might well feel proud of her mountaineers, who fearlessly explored the unknown wilderness, encountering and overcoming untold difficulties and dangers by the mere force of their own indomitable will-power and courage."

"Bear in mind that ninety-eight percent of mountain men were pronounced free-thinkers, and as a rule they were more humane, more generous, truer to friends, with less deception than those in civilization, with few exceptions."

"Washakie.....was highly please and said 'Old trappers are wolves', meaning in Indian way of speech, hard to take in or always on the alert."

[John · Rating 4 out of 5]

An interesting book about the life of a trapper and mountain man. Some thoughts:

1. Mr. Hamilton learned sign language very quickly, at least according to him. Who is to verify?

2. The mountain men were amazing riders and shots, experts with weapons since they had to be. Many of them were killed by hostile Indians.

3. Mr. Hamilton from his very first trip west in 1842, took part in scalping Indians with seemingly no thought as to the morality of such a practice. He seems to feel that it is normal life.

4. Mr. Hamilton was in many Indian fights because many of the Indian tribes were hostile to trappers. Not all were, but many.

5. Mr. Hamilton talks continuously throughout the book about sending Indians to the “happy hunting grounds” but never stops once to ask if hunting on their tribal lands and taking many furs was in any way harmful to the Indians. This does not seem to occur to him.

An interesting book and very good introduction to the life of a mountain man.

[Andy Herzfeld · Rating 5 out of 5]

Wildcat Bill, which is funny because he never once referenced that nickname in his book, was a mountain man and an interesting character. His account is in first hand like you were in the battle with him. His description of the fighting style of the mountain men and the Indian tactics was very clear and concise. He was a top horseman, shot, trapper and tactician. A mountain man had to have many skills to survive and thrive in the mountains. He quickly adopted sign language as his greatest skill when he first arrived on the plains with a group of mountain men. the Indians and his fellow trappers were amazed that he picked up the skill so quickly as most mountain men knew and used only basic signs. Excellent fast-paced adventure story that captured the high points of his 60 years. He does not bore you with the small details and grueling conditions those are a given. You won't waste your time reading this book and you will learn something about the Mountain Men.