Friday, June 25, 2021

"Dog Soldiers" & the battle of Greasy Grass

Two years before his demise, George Armstrong Custer led the 1874 Yellowstone Expedition, occasionally pausing for a photograph for posterity by William Illingworth of Saint Paul. With him are his "favorite scout," Bloody Knife, kneeling on the left and pointing at the map held by the seated Custer. Private John Burkman, assigned as an orderly to Custer, stands behind with scouts Goose and, kneeling on the right, Little Sioux. Two staghounds, evidently bored with the photo shoot, are napping near Custer.

The heavy-barreled rifle in the foreground possibly is Custer's Remington .50-caliber sporting rifle he carried with for hunting. You might note each of the Indians has a Model 1873 Colt Single Action Army revolver in .45 caliber and with a seven and one-half inch barrel. Those were the handguns carried into battle at the Little Bighorn River 145 years ago today. These handguns were state of the art for the era; the Springfield Trapdoor Model 1873 rifles carried by Custer's men in .45-70 caliber were not, which is among the reasons the  7th  had a "bad day."

Tuck, Swift, Lady & Kaiser

On June 12, 1876, George Armstrong Custer wrote a letter to his wife, Elizabeth (Libby), which included these statements:

"Tuck regularly comes when I am writing, and lays her head on the desk, rooting up my hand with her long nose until I consent to stop and notice her. She and Swift, Lady and Kaiser sleep in my tent."

Thirteen days later, Custer lay dead on what has come to be called "Custer Hill" just above the Little Bighorn River in Montana. The dogs -- Tuck, Swift, Lady and Kaiser, presumably, were with Major Marcus Reno and Captain Frederick Benteen and surviving troopers under their command on another nearby hilltop under the care of Private John Burkman.

Reno and Benteen were in charge of details separated by Custer from his immediate complement and were not among the troopers who rode with George and killed to the last man.

Burkman was an orderly assigned to the Custers with the 7th Cavalry Regiment. The "general's" other dogs were with Libby, ostensibly safe and sound, at Fort Abraham Lincoln seven miles south from Mandan, North Dakota, the location from which Custer had set out.

It is not unusual for me to take note of "Custer Day," as I refer to June 25, the anniversary of the "scrap" at the Little Bighorn. Custer and "a couple of hundred" troopers, scouts, contract employees and tag-alongs were killed by a few hundred (or, maybe a few thousand, depending on whose figures you accept) Lakota Sioux and Northern Cheyenne and Arapaho.

I have written posts at length about elements of the event, but today decided to simply to run this photograph and a couple of paragraphs. There is such a wealth of material about Custer and the 7th -- much of it appearing in just the last decade or so -- that it probably would be impossible to keep current of it.

Libby Custer, as was her custom, had traveled with her husband the first day out on the expedition and would have taken the dogs accompanying them back to Fort Abraham Lincoln except for the fact some refused to leave George.

John Burkman is one of only a few names associated with "Greasy Grass" I will mention today. The battle of Greasy Grass is the name given to the encounter by the Plains Indians.  Burkman was born January 10, 1839, in Alleghany County, Pennsylvania (or, maybe, Germany). On the morning of Sunday, June 25, 1876, he was ordered by Custer to stay behind with Benteen and the pack train.

"Take good care of the horses, Burkman. We may need them before morning," were the instructions Custer gave to Burkman the night before the battle at the Little Bighorn, according to the Billings Gazette.

Before setting out for the Indian encampment later, Burkman said Custer gave orders for him to stay with the pack train: "Stay with the pack train, Burkman, and take good care of the horses, were his orders to me. And it was the first time he ever left me behind in a fight. Those were his last words to me. And the next thing I knew of Custer and those five companies, was the news of the massacre."

Much of the Burkman information came from Glendolin Damon Wagner, a Billings writer whose books included one called "Old Neutriment." It was published in 1934 and based on information Burkman had told to I. D. "Bud" O'Donnell and who, in turn, had provided it to Wagner. Take that with an extra long hmmmmmmm ....

Burkman survived the hilltop engagement between elements of the 7th under Reno and Benteen and the Indian forces. Burkman was discharged from the army for disability in May 1879. He lived for a while in the soldier's homes in Los Angeles and Washington, but left the last in April 1923. Burkman reportedly was found dead November 10, 1925, in a Billings boarding house with a smoking gun in one hand and a bag of candy in the other. His death was ruled a suicide.

If you are wondering about the eventual fate of Tuck, Swift, Lady and Kaiser, so am I. Since Burkman was in charge of Custer's dogs, they stayed behind with him and, almost certainly, were at the hilltop wing-ding. There is no further mention of them that I have encountered.


Sunday, June 13, 2021

Two love songs -- art or not art?

A recent cartoon depicted a caveman proudly showing off his "cave art" which illustrated himself, with spear in hand, pursuing a huge mammoth. Off to the side was one woman whispering to another: "Artistic license .... it really was a rabbit he was chasing."

A pair of questions arise there, one obviously about artistic license and the other somewhat imperceptible, what makes art art? Books / paintings / music and a bevy of other endeavors are subject to the question of what is art and what is not -- and, easily might become a matter of rabid debate.

The painting, by the way, is an 1882 oil on canvas entitled, "Beethoven's Vision," by Austrian painter Rudolf Hausleithner. There are individuals who, I would wager, never have heard of Ludwig van Beethoven. If any of those are reading this and are curious, I will be content to allow them to do their own "research."

"O Mio Babbino Caro" vs. "In the Evening"

Objective: Not influenced by personal feelings or opinions in considering and representing facts.

Subjective: Based on or influenced by personal feelings, tastes or opinions.

Art: The expression or application of human creative skill and imagination, typically in a visual form such as painting or sculpture, producing works to be appreciated primarily for their beauty or emotional power.

Those are definitions of those three words as found in the Oxford English and Spanish Dictionary.

When I was a college boy, I ran across a characterization for art as defined by the Old Greeks. Simply, "art is the creation of beauty." Realizing that no matter how objective we think we are, most of us become more and more subjective the older we become and the more experience we gather. The Old Greek definition was good for me back then and continues to be today -- mostly subjective creature that I am ....

As often is said, "One individual's fantasy is another individual's reality" and "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder." Moving the same propositions to the world of art forms the question of who has the ability and the authority to say what art is and what is not?

I am rather judgmental and opinionated about many things, including what is art and what is not, and freely admit it. I also like to argue about it .... whoops,  I mean I like to discuss it ....

Here are two pieces of music about love for illustrative purposes and, hopefully, discussion.:

"O Mio Babbino Caro / Oh my dear papa" is a soprano aria from the 1918 opera "Gianni Schicchi" by Giacomo Puccini  and sung here in traditional Italian by Anna Netrebko ....

"In the Evening" is a piece composed by John Paul Jones and Jimmy Page and  Robert Plant for their rock band Led Zeppelin. It is performed here by Page and Plant and a host of accomplices (hmmmm .... accompanists, including an Egyptian orchestra) in Detroit in 1995 ....

Is one art and the other not? If so, why or why not? Are both art? Or neither? I am not posing these questions to be mean, but out of plain and simple curiosity. Musical distinctions often appear to stem from class distinctions and since social dissimilarities are supposedly fading into nonexistence, I am genuinely curious to learn why we think what we think.

Somehow, this seems like a good time for me to excuse myself for a day or two or three .... later, baby ....



Sunday, June 6, 2021

Recognize anyone? Me, neither ....

It is amazing to me how some occasions are faithfully remembered and devotedly observed while others are sort of recognized on a hit and miss basis. This year, for instance, I have seen few references to the anniversary of the D-Day invasion of France at Normandy by 156,000 Allied troops from 13 countries on June 6, 1944. This is a photograph of a few of the nearly 8,000 airborne troopers who were inserted behind German lines displaying a trophy of their feat. I wonder how many of these guys survived the war ....

Another example of fleeting fame is Minnesota writer Sinclair Lewis, the first American to be awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature. It came in 1930. Lewis and another Minnesota writer, Diane Wilson, were featured in a post here on April 19. Saint Paul Pioneer Press journalist Mary Ann Grossmann has a follow-up piece in the newspaper today about Lewis and an exhibition at the Minnesota Historical Society. The exhibit centers upon the 100-year-anniversary of the publication of "Main Street" -- the premiere Lewis novel.

Lewis was ahead of his time, Grossman notes, writing about topics such as divorce, adultery and abortion:

"In 'Main Street,' Carol Milford moves from the city to a tiny Gopher Prairie (Sauk Centre) after marrying the local doctor. She tries to bring culture to the small town, but is met by gossip, greed, conventionality and the bigotry of small-town minds."

Lewis spent his last years in Europe, Grossman writes, often drunk, having alienated most of his friends. It was 22 degrees below zero the day of his funeral at a "Main Street" cemetery and his ashes scattered there.


Something special ....