This is a balanced fascinating biography of two men who, despite their vast differences, became close friends. This is not a full-life biography of either man. Instead, it’s a look at four expeditions to the West that impacted their lives. We first meet Carson and Frémont on an expedition through Wyoming where the two explored the Wind River range. You get a glimpse into their characters as they, in company with several other expeditioners, climb Frémont Peak, named by the grandiose Frémont. You see the dictatorial clamp Frémont puts on the expedition, insisting that none of them keep a journal other than him. One German-born expeditioner kept his journal secretly in German, defying Frémont’s order. Indeed, if there is a weakness associated with this book, it is the lack of primary sources. Frémont wrote things his way and forbade anyone else from keeping a history. Carson was illiterate and kept no written records. They were different in numerous ways, these two. Frémont was a southern boy—a South Carolina Dandy—or he would have been had the army not sent him west. Carson was a Kentucky runaway who left home at 13 and never looked back.
The book follows both men and their various expeditions. Frémont, who could barely write coherently, relied on his spirited apparently lovely wife, Jesse, to write what he dictated. His reports of the expeditions he undertook became instant bestsellers. Roberts suggests that Frémont’s description of the Valley of the Great Salt Lake may have had some influence on Brigham Young’s decision to lead thousands of his followers to that valley in 1847.
The book covers four expeditions: The first involved a trek up Frémont Peak in the Wind River range in Wyoming. Frémont’s second expedition was a trip to California, where he grandly claimed he won it for the United States. That’s not quite how the history went, but a little history never stopped Frémont from telling a good story.
The third expedition took place between 1848 and 1849, and it was a disastrous survey in which Frémont sought to craft a path for a trans-continental railroad that would start in New York, go through St. Louis—a tip of the hat to his U.S. senator father-in-law, then forge on to California. The problem is the route he chose would have been impossible to turn into a railroad path because of the steepness of the grades and the impassability of some of the canyons. Comprising chapters nine and 10, this reads like an edge-of-the-seat thriller novel. The expedition is famous for the cannibalism that marked it early in 1849.
The fourth expedition the author examines is an 1863—1864 roundup of Apachee and Navajo people, forcing them into a long walk and a kind of demoralizing slavery that nearly obliterated them. You will read here of Kit Carson’s conversion from being a thoughtless killer of native Americans to someone converted to their cause—pleading for their greater autonomy and welfare. Frémont never comes across with the positivity that Carson does in the end. He remains that braggard who always knew more than his superiors and always overstepped the boundaries of his missions and expeditions. That pattern goes throughout the Civil War as well, forcing Lincoln to fire Frémont not once, but twice. (That information gets a nod in this book, but there aren’t great details about those events, since they’re outside the scope of the book).