In the summer of 1801 a promise of reform swelled in the hearts of Kentuckians—black and white, male and female. Thousands gathered in the town of Cane Ridge to witness the vociferous appeals of James McCready, who envisioned a new path to salvation. The Great Revival that engulfed the region rested on a platform of increased egalitarianism and work for the common good. Their egalitarian rhetoric tinged with anti-capitalism incited fear among the established landed elite, who handled the levers of power and profitability in the state. The sheer number of revivalists alone unsettled a political, economic, and social status quo that favored a minority at the expense of common folk. It was a moment filled with the possibility of reform in Kentucky—a chance to balance the distribution of wealth and power. Within a decade, however, many white male Kentuckians defected from the movement and still more silenced their abolitionist cries. The opportunity was lost, and the decline of the Kentucky revivalists added to a historical trajectory ripe with missed opportunities. Historian Stephen Aron charts these missed opportunities in his early history of Kentucky—How the West Was Lost: The Transformation of Kentucky from Daniel Boom to Henry Clay.
Aron is particularly interested in the transformation of Kentucky from a hunter’s paradise to a merchant-manufacturing and agricultural center. In Aron's rendering of Kentucky history, the continual emphasis on privatization and simplification of the law resulted in a political system that privileged a wealthy landholding elite. The entrenchment of this political platform, embodied in Henry Clay's Bluegrass System, persevered in spite of challenges made by Native Americans, back country hunters, slaves, small farmers, and revivalists. As a result, Kentucky emerges, in Aron's words, as a "broken promised land" (5).
Kentucky, the frontier of Euro-American colonization in the eighteenth century, is an important geographic orientation for Aron's work. The Bluegrass State acted as a testing ground for the eventual conquest of land west of the Mississippi. Historiographically, Aron harnessed a revisionist lens, but noticeably critiques New West historians. He does not simply seek to counter triumphalist narratives by inverting the events and emphasizing Native American and working class victimization, but instead attempts to understand how multiple cultural outlooks, socio-economic statuses, and religious and political points of view collided in and constructed the Bluegrass State.
This tale of transformation is bookended by the lives of two very different Kentuckians, who represented the transition from backcountry wilderness to gentrified community. Aron's begins with Daniel Boone's early eighteenth century "Kentucke": a meeting ground of Native and Anglo hunters. Boone, Ohio Indians, and other Euro-American settlers had conflicted views of hunting practices, but they maintained a tenuous coexistence in the years leading up to the American Revolution. Following the Revolution, "rights in the woods" and the coexistence of Natives and backwoodsmen disintegrated in the wake of increased settlement and land speculation (102). The violent contestations between American settlers and Natives who had long used the fertile valleys of Kentucky ended in the prohibition of Shawnee hunting in the region after Dunsmore's War. The capitalist impulse of Kentucky's new inhabitants exacerbated existing cultural tensions—in Aron's words, "American arrogance quashed any lingering chance for coexistence" (49). Daniel Boone and his coterie of hunters, however, were not innocent victims in this transformation from a hunter's homeland to a land speculators paradise. He and other Anglo hunters’ profit-mindedness and conceptions of manliness resulted in the drastic decline of bison, deer, and beaver populations. Ultimately, capitalistic tendencies undermined the ability of Kentucky to remain a hunter's paradise.
The gluttonous hunting practices of Boone-style hunters soon gave way to the salivating land appetites of Virginia's landed elites. As soon as settlers cleared Kentucky of its indigenous inhabitants, chaotic contestations over property ruled the day. Lawyers, typified by Henry Clay, enter the scene bent on building a system that would protect property and privatize land. As a Kentucky politician, Clay's three-pronged "Bluegrass System" championed protective tariffs, internal improvements, and banking. These programs, according to Clay, would benefit all (white) Americans and increase the state's growing merchant-manufacturing empire. As Aron reiterates, Clays program acted as "a Hamiltonian political economy in Jeffersonian garb" (138). Yet this system increasingly relied on slave labor and a landless working class. The growing gap between the landed elite and laborers/farmers (free and unfree) was further exacerbated by a banking system that assaulted working classes with paper money and high interest rates.
Aron is quick to point out that these tactics did not rise without resistance—without opportunities for reform. Native Americans in the early 18th century mounted their own three-pronged program of war, incorporation, and selective appropriation in order to combat the onslaught of Euro-American colonization. In later years plantation and factory owners lived in fear of slave rebellions. Additionally, Green River Country farmers and local politicians fought against the expansion of banks and paper money. Revivalists also challenged what had become an increasingly stratified social, racial, and economic landscape.
Yet, as the title implies, these opportunities faded in the wake of war, pandering, and profiteering. Aron outlines how Ohio Indians grew dependent on trading systems and thus tempered their ability to successfully overthrow Anglo settlement, while Green River County members slowly bought into the banking system with hopes of commercial expansion, and revivalists quelled their abolitionist stance because of their own capitalist imperatives. Green River Country, in particular, became "a facsimile of the bluegrass" (168). In the end, the lure of a dollar blunted the swords of reform in the region. Left in the wake of this transition was a society with a substantial gap between the "haves" and the "have nots."
Aron's materialist lens offers a unique perspective on the transition of an American state, yet it also left the reader with many unanswered questions. In particular, Aron's portrayal of Native Americans vastly oversimplifies their role in the region, and new literature in Native American history casts serious doubt on his assertion that Indians and white Americans would never again meet on equal terms as they did in the Ohio Valley (197). His emphasis on the concentration of wealth and power also neglected to develop the role of gender. A few paragraphs on women are sprinkled throughout the text, but fail to fully interrogate the impact of gendered relations in the region.
Yet these quibbles should not opaque the important work Aron presents us. His expert documentation of the transition from a potentially egalitarian society to an oligarchical political system holds important lessons for us all. How the West was Lost feels oddly in step with contemporary chasms between the wealthy elite and, well, everybody else. In many ways these cycles of power consolidation and subaltern resistance continue to play out across American history.