Claude Christopher Largent: Teacher in Early Oklahoma

Claude Christopher Largent, July 2, 1888-July 25, 1975.

Claude Largent was born to George Washington Largent and Mary Lue Smith in Booneville, Arkansas, on July 2, 1888. George Washington (GW) was a farmer and Mary Lue, who was half Indian (tribe unknown) was his third wife. She and GW had thirteen children, of which Claude was the first. His siblings were: George (November, 1889-December, 1889), Norris (Narcissie) A. (1892-1952), (Mary E, 1893-infant), Mary L. (Bettie), (1894-1960), William, (1896-1896), Evert (1898-1899), Sarah E. (1900- ?), Tommy (1902-1907), Mattie (1904-?) May (1906-?), Viola M. (1907-?,) Georgia Naoma (1909-?).

For many years Claude’s children and relations believed he was born in 1889, and indeed the 1900 U. S. Census claims as much. However, George Washington II was born in November, 1889, and died the following month. Hence what Claude recorded on his 1917 draft registration, that he was born in 1888, was true. (Strangely, however, in his 1942 draft registration, Claude listed his birth erroneously at 1889.) Claude was born a few weeks before GW, aged about 32, and Mary L, aged 17, were married. So Claude was an illegitimate, firstborn son. Perhaps the illegitimacy haunted him and he did not receive some of the benefits of the second living son, Norris.

Claude’s early life was undoubtedly a struggle, in part because he was illegitimate and ¼ Indian, he was not well educated, though he sometimes attended school (his parents were both illiterate). A family tradition has it that Mary Lue stood up to GW in support of Claude when he wanted to attend school. Of Claude’s many siblings, only two appeared to have survived childhood; hence Mary Lue was pregnant a lot and the babies and infants died regularly—death was a frequent visitor to the Largent household.

In the 1900 federal census, he was listed as 10 years old, born in July, 1889, which was an unfortunate error. Claude’s father George W. was born August, 1860, in Illinois, as were his parents, and Claude’s mother Mary L., born Oct. 1871 in Arkansas. Her father, about whom little is known, was born in Missouri, and her mother, otherwise unknown, was born in Arkansas. GW in 1900 owned his own farm, and had no mortgage. Mary was mother of 7 children, 4 living. Their place of residence was Washburn, Logan Co., Arkansas.

Claude’s draft registration in 1917 reveals that he was a self-employed farmer, was married with two children under 12. He lists himself as Caucasian. He was medium height, slender, brown eyes, black hair in June 5, 1917.

Claude married Bessie Lura Amos on Dec. 3, 1911. They lived in Booneville, Arkansas, and had four children, three daughters and one son.

In the 1920 federal census, Claude and Bessie and three children—Marie, Amos, and Joyce—were living in Center Haskell, Oklahoma. Claude was a farmer who owned his own home with a mortgage.

Claude was ambitious enough to educate himself so that he could eventually serve as a school teacher. His daughter June recalled that “the folks talked about several towns where they lived and Dad taught. I believe Pawnee, Shawnee, and towns around Seminole were some. Dad taught in Oklahoma and Arkansas. I remember them talking about him teaching “up on the mountain” in Arkansas.”

In 1928, they were living in Booneville, Arkansas, where GW lived. GW allowed Claude and family to live in a small shack on his land. June recalls that “Mother talked like she didn’t like him; I don’t remember why. Of course, he didn’t leave Dad anything, and I think he had a lot of land. He also had a lot of kids.”

The 1930 census shows Claude and Bessie living in Seminole County, Econtuchka township, Oklahoma. It reveals that they did not own a farm, rather rented. Claude was a school teacher in Econtuchka, which was a small town near the North Canadian River that divided the lands of the Seminole and Pottawatomie Indian tribes.

During the Depression, according to family tradition, “Claude taught school for some $40.00 per month. Walked 10 miles to teach singing lessons during the summer. Sold newspapers in Wewoka. . . . Was not easy, but they made it.” Wewoka is 35 miles from Econtuchka, so either Claude drove an auto to sell newspapers, or the family lived in Wewoka for a time.

Claude moved his family to Stigler in 1934. The 1940 census reveals that the family continued to live in Stigler. They rented a home and did not farm. Claude had completed the second year of college, attending Northeastern State University in Tahlequah. His son George Amos had completed the third year of college. Claude taught music in a Works Progress Administration school. Claude and Marie were a singing duo in local Stigler churches. The Largent family were Methodists.

In 1942, they were living in Stigler, Oklahoma; Claude was employed by Claud Frix, who was the proprietor of a retail dry goods store. But that same year Claude, Bess, and June, their youngest child, made the trek of the Okies to California to look for work. They lived in San Diego in 1942, then moved to Santa Monica in 1943, living there until 1944. Claude worked in the aircraft industry and in a lumber yard. June attended Santa Monica schools. They returned to Stigler in 1945, and Claude worked as an elementary school custodian.

The family moved to Tulsa in 1945. Claude worked for the Tulsa Public Schools, Irving and Mark Twain schools, as a custodian. He also worked for a church in Tulsa. They purchased a house in West Tulsa in 1946 with a Teacher’s Credit Union loan.

Claude retired in 1959 from Tulsa Public Schools and spent his time working in a large garden in the backyard where he grew all sorts of vegetables.

His grandson, Rusty, remembers him as very old, thin, cross-eyed, yet quiet, possibly thoughtful. He wore sun-glasses, even inside, perhaps because of his cross-eyes. Rusty would sometimes join his grandfather in the vegetable garden. Claude said little, but walked about gathering the vegetables and pruning branches; Rusty followed, watching. One time, Claude gave Rusty some books without comment. The books were a two-volume biography of Abraham Lincoln by Carl Sandburg. The books appeared well-used, so clearly his grandfather had read them again and again. They must have been his favorite books, and now he was giving them to Rusty—perhaps his grandfather’s wisdom and Carl Sandburg’s wisdom and Abraham Lincoln’s wisdom would combine to provide the sixteen-year-old inquisitor with wisdom itself. And so, despite the fact that most of the books he read were about sports, Rusty began to read. Sandburg’s portrayal of Lincoln was of a humorous, shy, witty, thoughtful, caring, empathetic man who became President of the United States. Rusty’s grandfather had the same body-type, the same apparent demeanor, as Abraham Lincoln, though as far as Rusty knew his grandfather had only been a custodian for his working years. Sandberg’s Lincoln cared for people, for all people of whatever color, and for this care he became a martyr, a sacrifice to the principles of equality and freedom.

Sandburg’s Lincoln by means of a Claude’s gift opened up a new world for Rusty. It was a world of thought, of stories, of people, of the past. It was a world of the distant and not-so-distant past, which was huge, vast, so vast as to be unknowable. Only a few things about the past could be known. Most past experiences were not known, would never be known. But the possibilities inherent in the past, the countless lives and experiences, were simply too tempting to turn away from. And so Rusty began a quest to know, to read. He was not a gifted intellectual, merely an average student, but he had a desire to know. He began to read science fiction, much of which was based on past human experiences. He read philosophy. The summer after his senior year in high school, as he prepared to go to the university, he read Plato’s Republic—and didn’t understand much. But the whole idea of being able to read the great thoughts of a philosopher from over two thousand years ago, to wallow in the wisdom of the past, was irresistible, and he continued to try to read great books. He particularly enjoyed reading Greek mythology. He read Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey, and not only did he understand these works, but he loved them. He loved the stories of battle, of heroes, of gods and goddesses, of monsters, of revenge, all set in the distant past in a distant land.

By this time in his life, when he turned eighteen and was preparing for the experience of the university, Rusty enjoyed thinking that the mind could elevate him above all the cares and questions of life. It sometimes worked. When in July, 1975, his grandfather Claude became terribly ill, and Rusty went to the hospital to visit the old man, he found him in his bed, partially clothed, senseless, thrashing about in convulsions. It was deeply disturbing, but to a rational, logical person, acceptable as the consequence of life, and Rusty left the hospital as emotionless as possible, as would a philosopher.

Claude Christopher Largent, a kind, quiet man, died in Tulsa on July 21, 1975.

claude largent 1967

 

For more on Claude Largent and his ancestors and descendants see my book  Claude Largent and the American Dream | Ash Hill Publishing

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George Washington Largent, Arkansas Farmer

George Washington Largent, August 15, 1855-Feb. 26, 1924

George Washington Largent’s life has a bit of mystery about it. His gravestone lists his birth date as August 15, 1859. The month and day are probably correct, though the year of his birth was probably 1855 or 1856 rather than 1859. According to the 1860 U. S. Census, the family of Thomas Largent, in Macoupin Co., Illinois, was comprised of four children, including five-year old George Washington. He could not have been born in 1859, as he had two younger siblings, Lauretta, two, and Charles, four months. His mother, Narcissa Ann Hayes, died with the birth of Charles. So George Washington was five-years old when his mother died. (However, the 1870 census lists him as 14—so he must have been born in 1855 or 1856.)

When George was 10 or 11, his father married a 19-year-old, Lydia Stout. They moved from Illinois to Missouri at some point. In the 1870 federal census, Thomas farms in Deer Creek township, Bates, Missouri. He and his wife Lydia can read but not write, but his son George Washington was completely illiterate, and apparently remained so his entire life.

George had four wives during his life, outliving at least three. He was married to Armenty Dunagan, Sarah Bryant, Mary Lue Smith, and Annie Pool. George’s first child was born to Armenty–Rosettie, born in 1859. The rest of his children were born to Mary Lue Smith, who was, according to family tradition, ½ American Indian, tribe unknown. George and Mary conceived their first child, Claude, out of wedlock, as they were not married until July 25, 1888, and Claude was born on July 2, three weeks earlier. George was about 33, Mary was 17. Overall, they had 13 children.gw largent    George Washington Largent

GW and Mary Lue

(The above photo shows GW and Mary Lue Largent, date unknown)

George Washington’s namesake, born in 1889, died in infancy; GW and Mary Lue’s third child, Norris, seems to have been favored over their first born, Claude. In the 1920 federal census, Norris and his family lived next door to GW and Mary Lue; meanwhile Claude and his family lived in a shack on GW’s land. In 1920, GW is 60, Mary L is 50; four daughters live at home. He is a general farmer, owns his land. He and Mary L are illiterate. He is born in Illinois, his parents also. She is born in Arkansas, her father in Missouri, mother in Arkansas.

According to family traditions,  GW left “Illinois under some kind of trouble.” Also, Mary Lue stood up for Claude when he wanted to go to school, and GW would lock the gate to keep suitors from courting his granddaughter Marie.

In the 1930 federal census GW owns his house, farms, is 71, cannot read or write, has no schooling. He is remarried to Annie Pool.

GW and Mary Lue were buried side by side in Ferguson Cemetery, Chismville, Logan Co., Arkansas. His epitaph reads: “An honest man’s the noblest work of God.”

For more on Claude Largent and his ancestors and descendants see my book  Claude Largent and the American Dream | Ash Hill Publishing

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The Sea Mark: A Poem

I published a book about John Smith several years ago entitled The Sea Mark. Smith himself wrote a poem of that name. Inspired by Smith, here is my version of the Seamark.

Seamark
I have searched, the pages of history
To answer a problem, a personal mystery
A haunting call, ghosts of the past
Echoes of the soul, internal ballast.

Something within, keeps me afloat
No matter the seas, that rock my boat
Mast stays firm, bends but won’t break
Mariner’s dream, riding eternity’s great lake.

What is this anchor, that hold me fast
This thing that joins, to what will ever last
that sews my self, onto life’s tapestry
That merges my being, with what will ever be?

It draws me in, after a wave its wake
Can’t resist it, my strength I foresake
Into the sea, its cold water coat
Envelopes me, a castle its moat.

Into the fog, blanketing the harbor
The cool wet mist, wets the skin and more
It penetrates, inside to the mind
Fog on the brain, a pervasive bind.

Knits together, thinking and feeling
Sailor’s seamark, spiritual sealing
Lighthouse gleaming, in the fog a sign
Crossing the sea, the sweet smell of pine.

I sail the sea, but what do I find?
An unknown deep, my mind the same kind
Explore myself? Search whatever for?
Unless within, there exists a core.

Must scape away, barnacles of mind
Sail through the shoals, navigate a line
Compass settings, sky’s starry ceiling
Starbeam pathway, internal healing.

I’ve found the door, I know the key
Escape the wind, and find the lee
Peaceful harbor, anchor to cast
Retire sails, undress the mast
And beach the boat, my line to tote
Haul it to shore, beach it encoat
The hull in sand, the anchor take
Bury it well, landlubber’s sake.

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Is the Message Still Relevant?

For 2000 years, since Jesus commanded his disciples to go spread the good news to all nations, Christian messengers, or missionaries, have traveled throughout the world spreading the message of hope and redemption. There are few people on the Earth who have not heard this message. Messengers have translated the Bible into a hundreds of languages—and more translations keep coming. Especially in the past 500 years, Europeans, in the wake of aggressive imperialism, increased their efforts to spread the message to North and South America, Africa, Asia, and Australia. Often missionary work has been an apology for conquest, slaughter, and enslavement. In the late 1800s, European competition for world power led to horrifying imperialistic actions in Africa. For example, beginning in the 1880s, King Leopold II of Belgium brutally expanded Belgic power into the Congo in the name of civilization and Christianity.

Indeed, for centuries Christian apologists have claimed that unless a people adopt European customs, values, dress, and language, they cannot be properly converted to Christianity, hence receive salvation.

At the same time, the European heritage has become increasingly materialistic, hedonistic, and narcissistic, such that the expanding noise of modern technology and communications seems to be drowning out the message of Christ.

Is the message still worth listening to?

Yes, if the message is in its purist form.

The purity of the message is found in the Gospel, first and foremost, in the teachings and actions of the Son of Man. Here we read firsthand, albeit through translation, the words of Jesus of Nazareth rather than the many commentators and expostulators who often distort the message for their own purposes.

And so, for people throughout the world who have routinely been dispossessed of property, human rights, liberty, and life, we hear words that bring peace to our anguished souls. For its true that in reading the Gospel,
You shall know the Truth, and the Truth shall set you free.

Read about the life of a person who made the message relevant to people living in the 18th century: Apostle of the East: The Life and Journeys of Daniel Little: https://ash-hill-publishing.square.site/product/apostle-of-the-east-soft-cover/XLY4EOWYX6MJRTGOQQFVDW4G?cp=true&sa=true&sbp=false&q=false

 

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All Things are Possible

Recent conflict and protests in America, about statues and monuments recalling troubling events in the past, seem to be dividing a country that clearly needs uniting. Those who focus on division rather than unity seem to think that all things are possible—that the sky is the limit for the future, and all they have to do is imagine it, protest for the sake of it, made a lot of noise about it, and it will come about.

Protesters are focusing on the American past, but ironically their view of the past is shortsighted, if not altogether ignorant. The past is not just a few isolated events from the collective memory about which people who otherwise know little about history can gather and make noise.

The philosophy of presentism—living for the moment without a deep appreciation of the past or an anticipation of the future based on the past—is how problems of division, conflict, manipulation of others, acquisition of power, and the creation of totalitarian states, occur. If all a person can do is consider how the present moment, one after another, might make him/her feel good because of a brief moment of feeling significant, powerful, and important, then such a person is ripe for the exploitation of demagogues, who typically promise that such feelings, such power, such a narcissistic trip, will continue—as long as you believe in the opposition to what is steady, orderly, traditional—the establishment.

Protest for the sake of protest is wrongheaded. It upsets order, creates chaos, but fulfills a momentary urge to feel significant.

Look, I have many of the same suspicions of the power elite that protesters have. But I am not marching through the streets carrying placards screaming at the top of my lungs. Why?

Because, for one thing, I have a historical perspective. Emergencies—what appears to be something that has to be done, NOW—are rarely emergencies—they just seem that way in the moment. I truly believe the philosophy recorded in Ecclesiastes, that there is “a time to break down, and a time to build up; a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; . . . a time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to be silent and a time to speak”—overall, “time and chance happens to them all.”

Yes, time and chance happens to us all. We need to know patience, to accept what has happened, what will happen.

All things are possible. But remember the caveat to this phrase, as found in the Gospel of Matthew? “All things are possible”—with God. The disciples were upset because Jesus had told them that it is more difficult for a rich man to go to heaven than for a camel to go through the eye of a needle. How, then, can anyone be saved? “With God, all things are possible,” Jesus said. The point is, that humans try to do so much, but our individual and collective weakness prevents us from doing what we want: we cannot, in short, make all things that can possibly occur actually occur. And to try to is to court disappointment because our time rarely conforms to God’s time.

Contentment, in short, is based on waiting. A person can act, a person can dream, a person can try their hardest. But in the sum of all things, according to the vast stretch of time of which you and I are just a very small part, the future is unknown, and what is about to happen is unknown: all we can do is wait–for humans can do very little, but with God, all things are possible.

For more, see my book on why Jesus became incarnate when he did two thousand years ago: https://ash-hill-publishing.square.site/product/metamorphosis-how-jesus-of-nazareth-vanquished-the-legion-of-fear-hardcover/ETEBDKWQ5QIVJBWDA4T6JD64?cp=true&sa=true&sbp=false&q=false

 

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Historical Sites along the Maine Coast: Kittery to York

Kittery, Maine, situated on the northern shores of the Piscataqua River, was a home to seamen and fishermen. Most such men of the salt sea were not well known in their own time and forgotten today. An exception was Lieutenant Andrew Newcomb, son of Captain Andrew Newcomb, the son following the father in the life of the sea. Captain Newcomb lived in Boston during the 1660s to 1680s, sailing his shallop laden with cargo up and down the Atlantic coast. Where his son Andrew was born is unknown. He appears in the historical record in the 1660s at Hog Island, one of the northernmost of the Isles of Shoals; Hog Island was under the jurisdiction of Maine in the 1600s, and has been ever since. The Isles of Shoals was an important center of the New England fishery during the colonial period. Fishermen such as Andrew Newcomb would set sail for daily or longer voyages to the Gorges Banks or other such fishing grounds where haddock, cod, mackerel, and other fish were captured. Back at Hog Island, the fisherman would cut and salt the fish and let it dry in the sun before being stored in a barrel for export. Andrew was married to Sarah, whose maiden name is unknown, but who bore seven children, Simeon, Andrew, Simon, Thomas, Sarah, Mary, and Peter. Sometime in the late 1660s Andrew and Sarah bought land at Kittery, in the north parish, what is today Eliot Maine. Here the family resided while Andrew carried on his trade and stayed involved in Hog Island affairs. For example in 1671 he was a constable on Hog Island serving a warrant on a drunken sailor who resisted. Mary died within a few years of their move to Kittery; Andrew, in debt and looking for new opportunities, moved his family to Martha’s Vineyard, where he married again and had eight more children with Anna Bayes, and became a prominent citizen.

Kittery is also famous as being the home of Sir William Pepperrell, the hero of the assault on Louisburg in 1745. William Pepperrell, Sr., arrived in America from Wales by way of Newfoundland in the mid 1600s; he settled at the Isles of Shoals and took up fishing. His business was sufficiently profitable to allow him to relocate on shore at Kittery Point, a peninsula jutting into the Piscataqua east of Kittery town. William married Margery Bray, daughter of Kittery shipbuilder and merchant John Bray, establishing by his alliance with the Bray family a foundation for future mercantile success. William Pepperrell, Jr., was born to William Sr. and Margery on June 27, 1696. Already his father was a major landowner and merchant involved in naval stores, shipbuilding, and the trans-Atlantic trade. By the time William Jr. was 21 years old, he was made a partner in the firm, “The William Pepperrells,” and assumed supervision over Pepperrellboro, the town and immediate environs of the lower Saco River and the village of Saco, most of which the Pepperrells owned. William Jr. rose rapidly in political circles as well, becoming Colonel and commander of the Maine militia, and a Provincial Councilor to the General Court of Massachusetts, representing Maine. Indeed Maine had been under the political control of Massachusetts since the 1650s and would be designated the District of Maine until it became an independent state in 1820. Pepperrell was a leader, then, in the political affairs of Maine and Massachusetts. He was a close associate of Massachusetts governors, being made Chief Justice of the Court of Common Pleas by Governor Jonathan Belcher, and working with Governor William Shirley to plan the audacious assault on the French fortress of Louisburg on the island of Cape Breton.

During the second to the last of the Great Wars for Empire fought between the French and the English, the Cape Breton War (King William’s War, 1744-1749), William Pepperrell, Jr. led New Hampshire and Maine soldiers to accomplish what most observers of the time considered improbable if not impossible. The French fort of Louisburg guarded the approaches to the St. Lawrence River. The English controlled Newfoundland and, by the Treaty of Utrecht ending Queen Anne’s War (1703-1713), Nova Scotia. However Cape Breton Island lay in-between, and the fortress at Louisburg promised to harass English shipping and colonial possessions during conflicts between the two great empires. Massachusetts Governor William Shirley realized the strategic importance of Louisburg, and decided, with William Pepperrell, to eliminate the French threat. Pepperrell amassed a force of over four thousand men; they journeyed north to Port Royal, Nova Scotia, then crossed Gabarus Bay to the southern shores of Cape Breton. They quickly marched the short distance to the fortress, to the surprise of the French commander Duchambon. Through subterfuge, will, and courage, the English succeeded in capturing the fort. Pepperrell became immensely famous as a consequence, and was granted the title of Baronet by King George II.

Today’s Maine Route 103 takes the exploring motorist from Kittery to Kittery Point, where the Lady Pepperrell house stands as well as the Pepperrell family burial ground. Nearby is Fort McClary, maintained by the State of Maine. On this site, at the southern extreme of Kittery Point looking out over the mouth of the Piscataqua River flowing into the Atlantic, William Pepperrell, Sr., had established basic fortifications to protect his property. In 1721, the Acts and Resolves of Massachusetts Bay Colony records a vote of the General Court “to erect breastworks in the town of Kittery for defense of the river”; these defenses were built on the site of Pepperrell’s initial fortifications. For years the fortifications were known as Fort Pepperrell or Fort William. At the beginning of the American Revolution, the New Hampshire revolutionary government confiscated the land and fortifications from the loyalist Pepperrell family. Soon after the fortifications were abandoned, and remained so until 1808, when the United States purchased the land from the State of Massachusetts and erected new fortifications named after a hero of the Battle of Bunker Hill. A granite wall and earthwork hosted several cannon to be manned by soldiers who lived in nearby barracks. The remains of these 1808 fortifications still exist; the foundation for the barracks also remains. A magazine to hold powder and balls was built in 1808 as well; this structure can still be toured by the visitor to the Fort.

Fort McClary is an astonishingly beautiful place to visit. The brisk salt air flows in from the Atlantic. In the far distance one spies Whaleback Lighthouse. Nearer, across the mouth of the Piscataqua one sees Fort Constitution, which guarded the entrance to Portsmouth harbor from the New Hampshire side. In the background is the town of Newcastle. The old stone walls of Fort Constitution stand next to the lighthouse of the U. S. Coast Guard. Fort McClary likewise is surrounded by ancient granite walls, fortifications built during the early nineteenth century. Below the walls the surf pounds at the natural granite of the shore. Spring wildflowers bloom even in this hazardous environment. Extending from the wall in several locations around the fort’s perimeter are caponiers, which provided defensive postures for artillery to fire at the enemy. In lieu of cannon, marksmen aimed from the caponiers or from the massive blockhouse at the center of the fortifications. The hexagonal blockhouse is several stories high. Its foundation is built into native granite; the first floor walls, likewise, are of granite. The second floor is built of timber. The blockhouse has numerous portals for lookouts and defenders.

The exploring motorist leaving Fort McClary departs north on the road (Route 103) to York. The old town of York, centered about the Old Gaol, the Jefford’s Tavern, the Old School House, and the Old Burying Ground. The Old Gaol held prisoners awaiting trial or corporeal punishment.

The Old Gaol [jail] at York was built in 1656, and was the sole gaol of the District of Maine during most of the colonial period. The present structure dates back to 1719. It had quarters for the gaoler and his family as well as two cells in which supposed ne’er-do-wells were kept pending trial and punishment. Stocks still exist at the site, revealing the proclivity of corporeal punishment in colonial New England regardless of gender or age. The Old Gaol is part of a complex of old structures maintained by the Old York Historical Society, including Jefford’s Tavern, dating from 1750, and the Old Schoolhouse, dating from 1745. The latter structure is located off Route 1 in York Village, and is adjacent to a delightful colonial graveyard featuring the best in period macabre headstones. The headstones of the Old Burying Ground tell in brief through pictures and epitaphs the lives of York men, women, and children.

The site of York is in the shadow of nearby Mount Agamenticus, which for a small mountain (691 feet) has a full history. Indian legends make Agamenticus the site of the famous chief of the Penacook tribe Passaconaway’s final resting place. The first explorers along the coast used the small peak as a seamark for bearings. Today’s journeyer can either drive or hike of Agamenticus; there a fire tower allows for quite an astonishing view for so small a peak. Jeremy Belknap, who ascended the mountain in 1780, observed “a most enchanting prospect. The cultivated parts of the country, especially on the south and south-west, appears as a beautiful garden, intersected by the majestick river Piscataqua, its bays and branches. The immense ranges of mountains on the north and north-west afford a sublime spectacle; and on the sea-side the various indentings of the coast from Cape Ann to Cape Elizabeth are plainly in view in a clear day; and the wide Atlantick stretches to the east as far as the power of vision extends.”

To read about an 18th century minister along the Maine coast, see

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Independence: Disorder in a Democracy

In today’s day, we are confronted with disorder, almost chaos and anarchy at times. How do we bring order out of a disorderly situation? The concluding years of the American Revolution in the 1780s provides us with an example.

The Constitution was framed in the wake of the disorder caused by the American Revolution. In the 1780s there existed financial insecurity, economic decline, social unrest, political conflict. Ebenezer Hazard in Philadelphia and Jeremy Belknap of Boston were two thinkers who were part of the intellectual climate during which the Constitution was written. My book, Ebenezer Hazard, Jeremy Belknap, and the American Revolution (Routledge) provides a detailed overview of their respective political philosophies.

The challenge of the American Revolution was, for Hazard and Belknap, to somehow bring order out of an inherently disorderly situation. Eight years of conflict, chaos, and wanton freedom must be countered by stability and order. How? England represented order, against which the Americans waged a war for liberty. To gain liberty, disorder had to be pursued—in other words, war. Conservatives at the time reasoned that the disorder of too much liberty has to be constrained by government. The Americans could not have a revolution that was anarchic. They had to have some kind of order, which they accomplished with state governments and the Articles of Confederation. But this situation was one of thirteen sovereign powers attempting to unite the American people in a common government, and disorder and chaos still threatened. Conservatives, fearing disorder, decided to erect a more orderly government, the Constitution. The Constitution involved a reconciliation between freedom and order.

Jeremy Belknap and Ebenezer Hazard believed that the epoch of revolution, of liberty and the threat of disorder, was akin to the individual’s struggle with sin. God grants the individual free will, just as the Americans wanted to exercise their free will by declaring independence and achieving liberty from England. The problem with free will is that humans are prone to sin: free will leads to sin, from which, to recover, one must find grace in God’s forgiveness. For God establishes His eternal order of right and wrong, good and evil, virtue and sin, which humans try to conform to, and when they sin, which they inevitably do, they must reach out to God’s mercy for forgiveness. Just as human sin can be constrained, mitigated, by conforming to God’s order, God’s justice, so too human liberty that is too wanton can be constrained, mitigated, by government order, government justice. But can government ever approach the goodness of God, the order of God, the justice of God? The individual must recognize the sovereignty of God—that God’s will alone is the ultimate authority. Likewise, in civil affairs, can the people recognize a sovereign power that alone has the ultimate authority, that we can submit to, when necessary, even give up some of our liberty to, just as we submit to God, and know that we must sometimes give up some of our sinfulness, our free will, to conform to God’s order?

The U. S. Constitution was to Belknap and Hazard an example of sovereignty in civil affairs that would be akin to God’s sovereignty providing an overarching authority over individual free will.

https://www.routledge.com/Ebenezer-Hazard-Jeremy-Belknap-and-the-American-Revolution/Lawson/p/book/9780367643591

 

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Animals and Time

Do animals have an experience of time similar to humans? I believe so.

I propose that each life, whether human or animal, experiences time and the passage of time, hence history, individually, uniquely.

It is difficult for a human to know his/her own self much less another. The way we try to know another is through empathy based on our own experiences and feelings in time. Science attempts to provide an objective approach to knowing self, other humans, and humans in general.

But how can we know what other animals experience and feel? Is there a way to empathize with animals based on experience? We can try, but a difficulty will be the animal experience of time, the passage of time, which will be different from humans. Humans try to objectify time so that they can make sense of their own passing, but to try to do this with other creatures? How do other creatures experience time, hence their own sense of history? Are nonhuman creatures able to know how time is experienced by others of their own species?

Since different creatures experience time differently and have different lifespans this will shape how they consider themselves and others. Humans know approximately how long they might live and base decisions on this knowledge. Do other animals?
I have often thought that humans have a superiority to other animals because they have knowledge of time, they can anticipate the future, even to death. If an animal does not have a set perspective on time they will have a different experience of life, living for the moment rather than the past or future.

But perhaps I am wrong.

My pup Buzzy wakes me up every day when the sun rises. He anticipates the morning, and breakfast, and somehow or another, without using a clock or alarm, wakes up precisely on time. My four pups are constantly anticipating just about everything I do. Is this just the ability to discern my habits, or do they have a sense of time? And, if they have such a sense of time, perhaps they keep track of past and future–in other words, perhaps they have their own sense of history.

Much of the human concern with time is the worry over the future, aging, and death. We all know that death awaits, and we often think about the time we have left. How do we know that other animals, even the lowest creatures, don’t have this awareness? Perhaps they are anticipating their demise, fearing death, as much as we are. If so, then what does this mean for the food industry, for the wanton disregard for life displayed by humans in so many ways, such that we have a sense that if other animal life is unimportant to us, then we take away that life.

Many theologians stress how the human experience of time involves the process of discovery of self, of sin, and the yearning for redemption, conversion, and salvation. These religious experiences occur in time. If other animals experience time, do they also have similar spiritual experiences? Are we really so sure what the answer is?

Different animals have different lifespans. My pups will not live as long as I will. So I am on my fourth generation of pups in my life. I might even have a fifth generation. Marcus Aurelius in Meditations argues that duration is less important than experience of life. This is difficult to swallow, when we humans know that we have an average lifespan in the 70s. But think of all of the creatures that exist, many of which might have lifespans of just a few months. Is their experience of life, since shorter than the human lifespan, less significant, less important? Perhaps animals, living in conformity to the natural way, have a more enjoyable, even more profound experience of life than we humans, preoccupied with building, changing, creating, doing–money, power, luxury, and excess.

The more I study and think about animals, the less I am certain of the human assumption that we are in control of all other forms of life. I wonder: perhaps, to God, all forms of life are equal: all lives matter.

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The Mysterious Mr. Lee

Almost 200 years ago, in 1819, a scientist from England, Thomas Nuttall, journeyed up the Arkansas to near this spot, the Three Forks, the confluence of the Arkansas with the Verdigris and Grand rivers. Nuttall was exploring what had been the southern Louisiana Territory, purchased from France by the United States in 1803. He was collecting specimens of flora and fauna, making notes on the local peoples, examining the Almost Almost 200 years ago, in 1819, a scientist from England, Thomas Nuttall, journeyed up the Arkansas to the Three Forks, the confluence of the Arkansas with the Verdigris and Grand rivers. Nuttall was exploring what had been the southern Louisiana Territory, purchased from France by the United States in 1803. He was collecting specimens of flora and fauna, making notes on the local peoples, examining the geography and landscape. To help him traverse the wilderness west of here, he hired a local hunter and trapper, a man named Lee. Lee led Nuttall west along the North Canadian River to the Cimarron River to the Arkansas River. It was a harrowing journey, and Nuttall almost lost his life, save for the resourcefulness of Mr. Lee.

Hardly anything is known about the life of Mr. Lee. He is one of the billions of humans of the past about which nothing is known of their lives.

Recently, in 2015, there appeared at the theaters an action film, The Revenant, showing through sound and vision the experience of an American trapper, Hugh Glass, in the 19th century. The movie was digital storytelling at its best.

Such a dramatic movie, using computer effects to re-create a grizzly bear attack on Glass, is, in the theater, riveting, engrossing, and the viewer can hardly walk away without being affected–indeed such a movie is the kind of theatrical experience that invites the viewer to believe it is true, because, after all, the viewer has seen it with his/her own eyes.

Because I am a historian, who focuses on trying to re-create the past and past lives based on what passes as the facts, I try to be as incredulous as possible, yet this movie, like all good movies, causes me to pause and consider what it must have been like to have been such a man as Hugh Glass living such an adventurous life. In other words, the movie entraps me into its interpretation of reality, and it is very difficult indeed to separate myself from it.

The movie has hundreds of people involved in its production. It has famous, highly talented actors. It has a screenplay co-written by the director. The movie, and its screenplay is, based on a novel, a work of fiction, and the author, Michael Punke, or the publisher, Macmillan, state clearly on the copyright page that this is solely a work of fiction. It is a story, made-up.

However, the author also includes a list of sources at the back of the book, which tells us that though the work is fiction, nevertheless it is “based on a true story.” This phrase, “based on a true story,” has become a catch-all phrase in the movie industry, indeed in the general popular culture, for saying that even though a story is fiction, and turned into a more fictional and fantastic screenplay, it is still based on fact—for many people, it is therefore, the truth. But, of course, it is not.

The appendix of the novel lists the sources upon which the author re-creates the past. These are books written by historians about the old west, about mountain men, and about Hugh Glass. There are scattered records and traditions left behind about the life of Hugh Glass, which are not altogether consistent, and biographers of his life, such as Jon Coleman in a 2012 biography, and John Myers in a 1963 biography, go out of their way to indicate that the sources for the life of Hugh Glass are largely anecdotal, not direct primary source documents.

In short, The Revenant is completely fictional, not fact, but by presenting itself on the screen in so realistic a fashion, it will be taken as fact by the majority of viewers. This is what modern digital storytelling is like, it seems to me: it enlarges upon traditional oral storytelling, and traditional written storytelling, to bring the visual to bear on the viewer’s credulous mind; and with 21st century special effects, computer-generated, digital storytelling via the theater is exercising a profound impact on the mind of the simple viewer out for an evening’s entertainment.

At the same time, of course, the visual has always been part and parcel to storytelling. There are photographs of mountain men, and paintings and drawings of mountain men, and maps detailing the regions and routes of mountain men. Frederic Remington painted, sculpted, and drew dozens of images of the iconic mountain man of the Old West. Jim Bridger was one of the most famous of the mountain men, who was also a good storyteller; his stories helped to make his reputation and fame. I remember as a child being inspired by his exploits.

There were, of course, thousands more trappers, hunters, and mountain men who traversed the wilderness of the Great Plains, the Rocky Mountains, and mountains and deserts of the West coast and Canada. Most of these men are unknown. Their lives are unrecorded. There is no statue, book, novel, movie, even gravestone, to mark their lives. They are among the vast majority of past humans who are anonymous to us in the present. Their lives, while significant for them and their associates, no longer matter, at least in terms of present awareness of the past.

One such trapper and mountain man was unknown generally during his life and after his death save for the isolated record in a book published in 1821 by scientist Thomas Nuttall. Nuttall was arguably the greatest naturalist in early 19th century America. He explored, as a scientist, the Ohio River, Great Lakes, Mississippi River, Missouri River, and Arkansas River. In 1819 he journeyed up the Arkansas River to this region, the Three Forks, where the Verdigris and Grand rivers join the Arkansas. Here, Nuttall hired a guide, a trapper and hunter known as Lee. Nuttall did not provide his Christian name, nor describe his physical appearance, or provide hardly any details about the life of this man. He appears in the pages of Nuttall’s A Journal of Travels into the Arkansas Territory as Mr. Lee. There are no other records of his life.

There have been no movies made about Mr. Lee. There are no screenplays or novels. There is no biography of his life. His life, in short, is a mystery: Thomas Nuttall tells his readers enough to discover a bit about Lee’s life and personality, but then, after Nuttall’s two-month excursion in 1819 with Mr. Lee over the Oklahoma prairies and down the Cimarron and Arkansas rivers, nothing else is known of Lee’s life.

If we wish to re-create what we can of his life, to resurrect, as it were, his life, we have to rely on more traditional means of storytelling: maps, journals, narrative histories, the spoken word. For the former, maps, there is no better map of the region in which we first encounter Mr. Lee than Tom Meagher’s Sketch Map of the Three Forks. Meagher was a student at Bacone College (Indian University) in the 1890s, was a veteran of Teddy Roosevelt’s Rough Riders, and was a local historian in Tulsa; he produced a map of the Three Forks in 1940. It illustrates the environs in which Thomas Nuttall first encountered Mr. Lee, at Bougie’s Trading Post on the Verdigris River. Meagher’s map is unique in its combination of history, legend, and storytelling by means of drawings of places and peoples.

The next means by which we might resurrect the life of Mr. Lee is through Nuttall’s published journal. In it, we read that on August 11th, 1819, “I left the trading establishment of the Verdigris to proceed on a land journey up the Arkansas, accompanied by a trapper and hunter named Lee, who had penetrated across this country nearly to the sources of the Red river, and followed his present occupation for upwards of eight years.” We learn further, on the 14th that “Mr. Lee . . . began to trap for beaver, and the last night caught four of these animals.” On the 26th, Lee informed Nuttall that he had “nearly lost his life, and all his property, last autumn, by falling in with the Cherokees near the banks of the Canadian.” Lee was a very resourceful man, who, after they had reached the Cimarron River, and having lost his horse to quicksand, “no resource for proceeding remained for my companion, but to construct a canoe, and so descend by water.” Around the region of modern Tulsa, they arrived at an Osage camp. “One of the men was a blind chief, not unknown to Mr. Lee, who gave him some tobacco, with which he appeared to be satisfied.” But others of the Osage were not. When Lee and Nuttall departed the Osage camp, “Mr. Lee, as he descended, now observed two men on the shore, who hid themselves at his approach, and began to follow him as secretly as possible. They continued after us all the remainder of the day, till dark. We knew not whether they intended to kill or to rob us, and endeavouring to elude their pursuit, we kept on in the night, amidst the horrors of a thunder storm, the most gloomy and disagreeable situation I ever experienced in my life.” They escaped, but because Lee was in a canoe and Nuttall on horseback, “unable to keep up with Lee and his boat,” “at noon we agreed to part.” Nuttall went overland to the Verdigris, and Lee followed the descending Arkansas to the Three Forks. We never hear of Lee again, either in Nuttall’s journal or any other source. He disappears from the pages of history.

A good story is based in part on fact. Homer used snippets of the past to re-create the story of the Trojan War, the Iliad, and the story of Odysseus’s journey back to Ithaca, the Odyssey. When I wrote my narrative history retracing Thomas Nuttall’s journeys, in particular his ascent of the Arkansas and journey across Oklahoma, I relied on his journal and other sources, which I elaborated upon by examining the places that he went to, and using my imagination, tempered by my understanding of the time and place, I endeavored to re-create the past in as consistent a way as possible with what I expect actually happened. I used this historical imagination in particular in my account re-creating experiences of Mr. Lee in my book, The Land Between the Rivers: Thomas Nuttall’s Ascent of the Arkansas, 1819.

Here is an example of what I wrote:

Lee’s grandest moment came in late August, 1819, when he and Nuttall were descending the Arkansas River and just departed the Osage camp but realize they were being followed by at least two warriors. Nuttall was on horseback, Lee in his canoe. Late afternoon brought billowing clouds building upward and outward. The rolling mass, reflecting the light of the late day sun, rose to an astonishing height. Observation gave way to imagination, as the massive anvil grew closer, and awe as it darkened the sky and halted the hot southern wind. A brief calm and distant rumbles exploded into a sharp north wind and claps of thunder, lightning piercing all in its path. The glare of the noon sun was a distant memory during the twilight of day. Massive thunderheads, white and gray mushrooms in the sky, filled the horizon. Dusk had an eerie, green look about it. The fascinating show of light streaking across and within the thunderheads became the immediate peril of dancing bolts of lightning, sporadically and unpredictably erupting into terrifying concussions of sound and light. Torrents of rain and hail blasted shrubs and turned the driest earth into sticky mud. Rushing runoff had its way with the soil, creating deep furrows, eroding a path toward neighboring gullies and instant creeks, soon filled with the dull, red water. The two men knew the peril of the storm, but they welcomed its onset all the same. Lee paddled his dugout canoe furiously in apparent utter futility considering that escape from the randomness and instantaneity of the lightning stroke was impossible—especially when the level plane of the river made a canoe and its occupant stand out, a perfect target for the thunderbolt. The situation of Nuttall was even worse. Nuttall urged his horse on in the storm, through sandy beaches, uncertain shallows, and the ever-present danger of quicksand. The unaccommodating riverbank forced man and horse to cross the river repeatedly. The scientist found everything equally terrifying. The principles of electricity, he knew, made he and his horse perfect conductors for the electric charge. The river was, however, as threatening. Its current was still lazy enough, and the water was shallow. But the bottom was completely uncertain. The horse repeatedly stumbled, fell in deep holes, dunking both beast and rider. Then the hapless animal became stuck in quicksand, which unmercifully sucked in both man and horse, their cries for help being drowned out by the sounds of the storm. Fortunately, the hunter Mr. Lee had developed a protective attitude toward his inexperienced companion. Lee was ever watchful for Nuttall’s safety. Nuttall soon felt the rope and heard Lee’s command to tie it around the horse’s neck. With difficulty Lee pulled them to safety. They escaped the storm and the Osage warriors. Somehow, amid all this action, Lee contrived to kill a buck; that night they feasted on venison around the dim light of a campfire, which Lee knew was a beacon to their enemies.

Telling a story of the past is almost old as writing itself. To tell a story of the past in the present enables the listener, the reader, the watcher, to re-live the past, to engage in a sort of dialogue with past lives, to rescue, as it were, the past in the present.

https://press.umich.edu/Books/T/The-Land-between-the-Rivershttps://press.umich.edu/Books/T/The-Land-between-the-Rivers

Cover of The Land between the Rivers - Thomas Nuttall's Ascent of the Arkansas, 1819

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You Shall Know the Truth, and the Truth Shall Set You Free

This is the gist of remarks I made before students and faculty at the spring 2017 Matriculation ceremony at Bacone College.

Many years ago I was a student at a university on the East coast. This university had a large library filled with books—the kind of library that a person can get lost in rummaging around searching for knowledge. On one side of the building, on a large granite face, were these words: You shall know the truth and the truth shall set you free. I used to walk by this building just about every day, and I would see these words. Admittedly, I was not sure exactly what was the source for these words. I knew they were found somewhere in the Bible, but precisely where, I was not sure. But the words daily made me pause and think. What could they mean? You shall know the truth and the truth shall set you free.

To know the truth: what is meant by, the truth? At the time, as a college student, I vaguely was aware that I sought the truth. Isn’t that what I was doing in college, anyway? The only reason to go to college is to acquire knowledge, to learn, to become educated—in other words, to seek the truth. But what is the truth, and how does a person know if they have come to possess it, to know it?

…And the truth shall set you free. Now this second part of the proclamation carved onto the granite face of the library was even more perplexing. Free? Free from what? In what way am I not free? We live in America, the land of the free, correct? What do these words mean?

You shall know the truth and the truth shall set you free: the implication of these words is that if you don’t know the truth, then you are not free. So, if I have not yet arrived at sufficient knowledge, if I have not yet completed my education, then I am not free, I am a slave. To what?

This was all very perplexing to me, so many years ago at this university on the East coast. I could not claim at that time—nor can I claim today, so many years later—that I know the truth. I am in pursuit of the truth. This is one reason why I like to be a professor, as I enjoyed being a student: I feel like we are all in pursuit of the truth. But what kind of truth is it? Scientific? Humanistic? Artistic? Moralistic? Religious? Well, yes—all of the above.

As time passed I became aware of the source of the quote on the granite wall of the library: the Gospel of John. Jesus of Nazareth said these words. I think the key to understanding what he meant is to focus on the second part of the statement: And the truth shall set you free. By free, he did not mean freedom to do and act, freedom to vote and speak: he meant freedom to think. The problem is, that although we all think—some more than others—there are always constraints on our thinking. Sometimes social and cultural norms, ideologies, pressure from friends and colleagues, direct our thinking into certain patterns and accepted paths.

To have freedom to think is to have freedom from something. What? Fear. The reason why humans are not free is because of the fear that dominates our lives. Jesus was saying, that when you know the truth, you will be free from fear.

Fear? Of what? Fear comes to us, confronts us, in so many different ways: fear of the future, fear of being wrong, fear of offending, fear of not conforming, fear of being different, fear of being the same, fear of making a mistake, fear because of making a mistake, fear of what we are feeling and thinking, fear of where we are living and what we are doing, fear of life. Fear, in short, overwhelms.

You shall know the truth and the truth shall set you free: the more that we learn, the more that we know about others and ourselves, the more that we think and understand, the more we will not allow illusions, and rumors, and the opinions of others, and the actions of others, and the future, to dominate us, to shackle us with fear. To think, to know, is to conquer fear. The more we think, the more we learn, the more we break down what is false, the more we come out of the darkness into the light, the more we can understand ourselves, and understand others. As another great thinker of the New Testament said, “Love knows no fear.”

So, yes, You shall know the truth and the truth shall set you free.

For more, see my book on the incarnation of Jesus, Metamorphosis: How Jesus of Nazareth Vanquished the Legion of Fear available at https://ash-hill-publishing.square.site/product/metamorphosis-how-jesus-of-nazareth-vanquished-the-legion-of-fear-hardcover/ETEBDKWQ5QIVJBWDA4T6JD64?cp=true&sa=true&sbp=false&q=false

 

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