Understanding the unique character of frontier folk and the American frontier itself requires delving into a period of dynamic expansion and evolving societal norms. Originally, the term “frontier” denoted a clear boundary between established civilization and the untamed wilderness of the American West. However, even as settlements began to dot the vast territories, the concept of the frontier retained its profound significance, embodying not just a geographical location but a distinctive way of life and a peculiar civilization. It evokes images not of permanent, prosperous colonies with secure land titles, but of the ever-shifting communities that skirted the edges of Native American reservations and newly opened lands, often appearing and disappearing with surprising speed, much like a fleeting dream. These frontier folk were a breed apart, shaped by the harsh realities and boundless opportunities of the untamed West.
The Nomadic Spirit of Early Settlers
The success of any early frontier settlement hinged on the collective belief of a sufficient number of nomads that a particular spot was destined to become a burgeoning city. News of such a gathering would draw others, creating a temporary boom. Yet, this transient prosperity often ended abruptly when initial visionaries, the “first citizens,” decided to move on to a new “Eden.” The sojourners of these regions, rather than true inhabitants, lived with the constant expectation of selling their “claim” for cash to a new settler, or discovering a rich lode or placer that could fund a year of leisure. Trappers, too, were quintessential frontier nomads, constantly relocating as beaver populations dwindled.
Beyond these more “respectable” pursuits, a larger, more shadowy throng gravitated towards frontier settlements. These individuals, while hoping for an honest El Dorado, often resorted to illicit activities such as horse-stealing, operating faro tables, or engaging in “road agency” – a euphemism for highway robbery. Frontier society, with its stark contrasts, lacked many refinements. A person was either an “elegant gentleman” or unequivocally labeled a liar and a horse thief. Yet, justice was often applied with a peculiar discernment. Those engaged in unlawful professions were rarely bothered unless caught in the act. If apprehended, their fate was swift and final; they were simply “got rid of.”
Justice and Lawlessness on the Frontier
The scale of justice on the frontier was strikingly different from settled areas. Homicide, surprisingly, was often considered a mere peccadillo compared to horse-stealing. A horse held tangible value, while a thief was seen as having negative worth. The killer might escape pursuit, but the stealer of a purse on the prairie or a horse from the herd invariably faced his last day. Nevertheless, a shrewd thief always had the chance of evading capture and reinventing himself as an “elegant gentleman” in another frontier town, profiting from his ill-gotten gains. He could continue this career, even under suspicion, provided he refrained from plying his trade in the very communities he graced with his presence.
Personal violence was generally reserved for instances where it served the aggressor’s profit. The legendary free-for-all or killing a man on sight was far rarer than popular myth suggests, particularly when compared to the American Southwest. A famous anecdote from Benton, a Missouri River navigation head, speaks of a visitor remarking on the unusual size of “grapes” on a bar-room floor, only to be told, “Stranger, them’s eyes!” – remnants of the previous night’s revelry. However, eyewitness accounts often painted a less dramatic picture, with observers noting a lack of overt violence during their visits, yet still advising caution when camping near such characters.
The Transient Nature of Frontier Life
When a settlement found temporary prosperity through commerce, mining, or agriculture, the original settlers often sold out quickly for cash, seeking new territories. Some frontier folk spent their entire adult lives claiming land, building ranches, and then “realizing” on their efforts, journeying from Texas to Montana, often passing through California. Families, livestock, and all their possessions would accompany these pilgrims. A cabin built and inhabited one year might be deserted the next, lured by reports of a better claim further on. Despite their transient lifestyle, absolute misery seemed rare among these shiftless people. Their children grew up sturdy and robust, if uneducated, and their livestock multiplied during their endless migrations.
Their temporary livelihoods were varied: squatting on prime grassland to fulfill a hay contract for a new stage route, settling near military posts to sell vegetables before company gardens matured, or claiming truly promising spots that quickly attracted permanent settlers. But as soon as they had enough flour, bacon, tobacco, and a little money for whiskey and clothes for the year ahead, they were off again. They were less like gypsies, who might revisit familiar spots, and more like the Wandering Jew, propelled by an unseen force away from stable, methodical people. Their worldly possessions were packed into their “prairie schooners” (wagons), and they moved in easy stages, often sleeping in or under their wagons without bothering to pitch tents. Abundant grass for livestock and pleasant weather made for comfortable travel. There was no undue hurry or worry, only the need to reach a destination in time to build a log hut and a shed for winter shelter. The scattered U.S. Army garrisons effectively maintained order, and expanded military telegraphs usually provided ample warning of any potential conflicts with Native American war parties.
The Isolation and Self-Conceit of Frontier Dwellers
The constant nomadic existence, minimal contact with permanent human institutions, and freedom from the constraints of close neighbors fostered a profound self-conceit among many frontier folk. Though they might abandon vast acres in a few months for something even more remote, they demanded that any traveler stopping at their cabin and paying for their often poor food “allow” that it was the finest “claim” and the best victuals ever encountered. In reality, excellent ingredients were frequently ruined. The finest venison, for instance, was often thinly sliced, placed in cold grease in a frying pan (never pre-boiled), and fried until it became as tough as a chip and saturated with fat.
A memorable incident in Colorado recounted a request for a boiled egg being met with the assertion that “the lady knew how to cook eggs—she fried ’em.” And fried they were, submerged in cold lard in a three-to-one ratio with the egg. Another “lady,” upon being suggested a gridiron for venison by an army officer, retorted, “If you can’t eat what we eat, you can go without. Don’t see the use of troops anyhow. We pay for you. Understand Sitting Bull is going to Canada to fight the Fenians. He will find somebody to fight there—never did here!” Such sarcasm was particularly ill-considered given that the woman was paid five times the worth of her food and, along with her family, could not have remained in their cabin for twelve hours had the nearby military post been withdrawn. These isolated individuals saw themselves as nature’s aristocracy, sustained by their lack of neighbors, undisputed kings on their own dunghills.
Travelers, “Tenderfeet,” and the “Missourian” Stigma
Travelers relying on the sparse ranches for lodging often found themselves in a disagreeable predicament. If new to these people or concerned for their digestion, they became “vassals at the castle of Giant Despair.” The host would invariably refer to them as a “tenderfoot,” a term meant to encapsulate everything contemptible. One might have scaled the Alps or marched with armies, yet remain a “tenderfoot” in the estimation of the host, unless forced to live a hundred miles further out than anyone else, or until mastering the art of eating with a knife.
Conversely, the only term of opprobrium that truly stung these people was “Missourian.” The reason for this strong negative connotation is unclear, but the name seemed to imply worthlessness and unpleasantness. Settlers from Virginia and Georgia would proudly declare their birthplace, implying a kind of blue-blooded status. The Missourian, however, would only mention the last place he briefly stayed on his journey to “the setting sun” as his point of origin. Some who left Missouri during the Civil War held onto their bitterness against “abolitionists” and “Lincoln’s hirelings,” their isolation allowing ample time to brood over the perceived wrongs of the South, with no one to temper their wrath.
The Miner and Prospector: A Different Breed of Frontier Folk
Miners and prospectors constituted a far more agreeable class of frontier folk. Their summers were spent amidst wild, game-rich scenery, pursuing fortunes that only a lucky few ever attained. This lifestyle held an undeniable fascination, and despite frequent failures, they continued as long as health and age allowed. Winters were spent in towns, earning enough to purchase an outfit: gunpowder, coffee, flour, sugar, bacon, and a “jack” (donkey) to carry their pack. They would select an operational center, construct a small shanty, and spend the summer climbing and breaking rock, ever hopeful of striking wealth, while also keeping a keen eye out for game. They welcomed tourists warmly, sharing everything except blankets, which every man was expected to carry for himself.
Evenings were spent regaling visitors with quaint experiences and hinting at spots where unimaginable wealth could be found. They typically worked in pairs, each calling the other “pard,” developing a deep loyalty that only strengthened in times of sickness or disaster. These were, by and large, an honest and manly people, whose demanding lives fostered strong qualities like hospitality, care, kindness, and tenderness, even towards strangers in distress. Their careers offered no monotony; each day brought new incidents, big or small, fueled by the persistent belief that the bonanza was just around the corner. Geographical distances meant nothing to them. Fear was an alien concept. It was common to see two “pards” on foot, driving their two jacks laden with all their possessions, trudging through Native American country. They might casually inform you they had traveled from the San Juan country in Southern Colorado and were headed for the Bear Paw Mountains in Northern Montana, having heard rumors of gold. Many had traversed the entire length of the Rocky Mountains within the United States.
Gold washings often spawned towns as rapidly as Leadville, but their surface-level nature meant quick exhaustion of resources, leading to rapid migration. The once-populous town of Georgia in Colorado’s Middle Park, built by gold-washers, still stands with its Town Hall, two theaters, and streets of log houses, now utterly devoid of inhabitants. While their Town Hall and theaters were simple wooden structures, they once served their intended purposes.
Frontier Justice and Legal Peculiarities
In newly established towns, which were
