There's where we're going, boys! the major said pointing. . .
He didn't have a map in his hand, of course, because there was hardly any mapped terrain in this part of the country, such as became the case after his two epic expeditions, like so. . .
These final two diaries will fill in the other blanks to this story, which I'm sure some of you in the DKos community are eager to know.
Note To Dkos Readers: If you are just joining me for this series of diaries on, please read the introduction in the first diary (http://www.dailykos.com/...). I also recommend reading the ensuing diaries. It will help explain the essence of both the adventure and the social politics behind same. Of course, the greatest human mystery of the three men will be partially explained, because that's why it's still a human mystery.
10 Minus 1 And Now Missing 3: Six men had finished what they started and three men vanished forever. As for Frank Valentine Goodman who left the party early in the expedition, he might have remained loyal to the major or sided with the Howlands and Dunn, that is, had he not lost nearly all of his possessions and left when he did. But to this day only the nine men are given credit for the expedition, and just six completing the daunting task, which happened on August 29.
Historic photo of the Grand Wash Cliffs where it enters Lake Mead (Steve Leding, circa 1952):
Kindly note in this diary there will be minimal photos offered, mainly because there are a relative few historical photos pertaining to this story, which have mostly been used thus far in these diaries. Two archive sources that I thought might at least lease (for free) rare photographs of the 1869 crew could not be bargained with, and therefore images of these men (other than the major) can be found in this man's work (a highly recommended account, that should interest most DKos readers):
(Continues after the fold.)
The view of the Grand Wash Cliffs to Major Powell and his men must have been short of seeing something divine. This boundary line marked the end of the Grand Canyon’s geophysical location, which is now part of Lake Mead. The last rapid at mile 246 (called Lava Cliff) was the last whitewater five of the men would experience for the rest of their lives, although Major Powell would return to both rivers just two years later. It was a mere thirty-eight miles below the rapid where the six men had parted company with their three comrades. The six men were safely through and there was no way of knowing what the fate of the other three men would be until the three hikers turned up in one of the Mormon settlements or towns on the North Rim...assuming they would turn up.
On August 29 Bradley wrote the news in his journal it was the first time he had felt justified being on the river, because he said they were all in a race for their lives. They were now down to five days of rations, or so Bradley figured, and they had no idea how much farther it was to the end of the line. Nevertheless, all the men felt encouraged because of the changing topography of the backdrop. Thus the canyon walls came down and were replaced by hills. He knew they were in the vicinity of the Grand Wash Cliffs but wasn’t sure if they just might pass up this final benchmark. They were also relieved that all the rapids were behind them and Bradley felt a good night’s rest would renew their strength to continue the race to save their lives. The final maudlin thoughts of Bradley’s entry denotes the regret they all felt for the Howlands and Dunn, and how these three were not with the main body to share in the joy and triumph.
Sumner also had similar thoughts in his August 29th entry. He related how they rowed through a low rolling desert terrain and knew all the danger was behind them. He said they gave three cheers and were on the river until 5 o’clock, then camped on the left side of the river. He said they had run 42 1/2 miles that day.
Before Major Powell ever finalized his manuscript and had it published as a book, he wrote several articles for Scribner’s Monthly Magazine. In one of the articles he wrote for the magazine, dated August 29, he had time with his writer's muse to tell readers about the mood he and the others felt that day. When the published version came out in 1875, Major Powell had even more to say. He wrote—
“We start very early this morning. The river still continues swift, but we have no serious difficulty, and at twelve o’clock emerge from the Grand Canyon of the Colorado....The relief from danger, and the joy of success, are great. When he who has been chained by wounds to a hospital cot, until his canvas tent seems like a dungeon cell, until the groans of those who lie about tortured with probe and knife, are piled up, a weight of horror on his ears that he cannot throw off, cannot forget, and until the stench of festering wounds and anesthetic drugs has filled the air with its loathsome burthen, at last goes into the open field, and a world he sees! How beautiful the sky; how bright the sunshine; what “floods of delirious music” pour from the throats of birds; how sweet the fragrance of earth, and tree, and blossom! The fist hour of convalescent freedom seems rich recompense for all—pain, gloom, terror.” (Down The Colorado, p.142)
Here the major may have been thinking of two places and two different things at the same time, although tied into his subconscious and forming one recurring theme. His war wounds and escape from the danger of the rivers he and his men successfully ran must have merged and helped him to wax poetically, even humbly, about the rewards of knowing his work for this phase of his ambitious plans was now behind him.
But was it excitement and relief the six men felt as they drifted below Grand Wash Cliffs? Or was it feeling the emotional weight of an anticlimax that usually shadows any risky adventure? For nearly one hundred days and some one thousand miles the men were confronted by Promethean challenges and demands upon their bodies, minds, and senses. Certainly, it was a sobering reality they experienced on that bright sunny day in late August, the day that marked the official end to their canyon country odyssey. When the six men finally reached a Mormon settlement along the banks of the Colorado, they already knew what remained of the Colorado was a played-out river that had hundreds of miles to go before it finally emptied into the Sea of Cortez (now the Gulf of California). Thus the 1869 expedition was finally over. It was time to say good-bye.
Likely, none of the men would ever forget this infamous rapid where their three comrades decided to leave Major Powell's command and take their chances on the far distant rim. . .
The rest of the journal entries, including a touching letter that Andy Hall wrote to his brother, reveal little else of news about the feat the six men lived to talk about, each in his own way. Sumner, like Bradley, wasn’t too impressed with the Arizona scenery. In his August 31 journal entry, which might have been written sometime in September, Sumner noted words to the effect what he saw of Arizona wasn’t worth settling. Further along in this entry Sumner adds pretty much what Bradley told all along—his true and deepest feelings. In short, how, after two years of hard work with the major and the others, he was broke and jaded. He hoped his journal would provide a faint idea of the country they had come through and suggested if his readers thought he might be exaggerating, then they should come and see it for themselves. A faint idea, indeed, sir!
From that point of his entry, the things Sumner relate makes it seem he plays the victim, though, of course, this is not his intention. Instead, he talks about how people thought he was fool for going on the trip in the first place, and now that he finished they still think he’s a damn fool. If so, Sumner expresses his thanks to the reports he has since heard about the heroic accomplishment and talks about not finding work in that part of the country. He closes the entry and says he will return to the wilderness where he has a chance to earn his keep.
This was the final known writing (i.e., from his original journal entries) by John Colton Sumner. His remarks suggest how he truly was the most pivotal crew member next to Major Powell, and not Walter Powell as some historians later declared. However, when it comes to a written testimony of the expedition, Bradley clearly emerges as the most important diarist (mainly because he never minced his words much less voiced his true opinions to the major or the others given what he inscribed in his river notes).
For those interested in a day by day inventory of camps these men made since the start of their adventure, this URL and pdf file provides such details:
http://www.gcrg.org/...
What Really Lit The Powder Keg? By early August the men had been on the river for an exceedingly long period of time and there was still an unknown distance to travel. Civilization was nowhere close to where they explored and the high walls of the canyons only made them feel more isolated. Were tensions among them so great by this time that anything could have easily set them off? Was it a matter of some of the men getting on each other’s nerves that could easily pit one against the other, even for seemingly trivial matters? Or was it something else that had been brewing for quite some time; something that was never entirely brought out into the open. At least, not to the point there was any appreciable discussion about the issue?
Yet, clearly, something had gone awry with respect to the men’s disposition. Part of the contention had to do with the dwindling rations, as well as the lack of game. That much is granted. The gnarly stretches of whitewater through the Grand Canyon was equally a factor in testing the men’s nerves, as was the heat, monsoons, and longing to get out of the canyon and see open country again. But what did finally light the fuse of the powder keg, there at Separation Canyon? Particularly, what really turned Oramel and the others away from the river, and therefore set their party against the others?
There is a likely answer. However, it will be necessary to retrace part of the route (through the Grand Canyon) to better understand the discontent represented by Oramel’s faction. Even before the nine men entered into the Great Unknown, Major Powell, according to journal entries already noted by Sumner and Bradley, had been dissatisfied with Oramel’s topographical mapping he was hired to do. Major Powell may also have still been stewing about the incident at Disaster Falls. There was also his apparent disenchantment with regard to Dunn’s slovenly appearance toward the end of the expedition (i.e., connecting Dunn with the Dirty Devil River Powell supposedly named after him). As for Seneca Howland, we hear very little mention of his name in any of the writings.
Major Powell was a strong leader who was equally strong-minded. One would think his command while on the river with these civilians would be less stringent in view of some of the criticism Sumner and Bradley related in their writings. The major seemed to find fault with his men, just as much as he seemed to have confidence in their abilities to get the job done. In this sense, Major Powell may have been too much of a perfectionist and expected too much from his men. In short, he was capable of finding fault with some of them, although we seldom hear about his tirades on or off the river, except in a few remarkable journal entries.
Even Jack Sumner, who, like Bradley, was more than likely the most reliable crew member, didn’t altogether escape notice by Major Powell. That is, with respect to Sumner’s added utility as a back-up writer who was asked to record daily journal entries. For example, the correspondence Sumner dispatched with the major, which was to be mailed from the Unita Indian Agency, the major read the report, then added his own personal note to the editors of the Missouri Democrat who eventually printed Sumner’s remarks. Major Powell seemed to be somewhat embarrassed by Sumner’s style of writing. He wrote and explained how Sumner, whom he referred to as ‘one of the trappers,’ was connected with the expedition and thought the newspaper would find Sumner’s remarks lively and might need editing. Other than to mention Sumner prepared the manuscript at Powell’s request, whose named he wrote as Jack Sumners, the major ended his note with words to the effect he would send more of this report if the newspaper published the segment he sent.
One wonders what the major might have thought about Bradley’s journal entries too, that is, had he even known Bradley kept a journal.
Plainly, there were personal tensions all the way around in the camp. There was also some particular incident that took place prior to Separation Canyon, which drew the lines between some of the men, especially those who were sided against the major. This reminder comes to us from Bradley’s August 11th entry that noted how discontented and anxious the men were to move on; and if the major didn’t agree to continue that day, then Bradley feared there would be unspecified consequences in that laconic and profoundly interesting covert prophecy. Sumner, like Bradley, would later reflect on that part of the expedition and have a lot more to say about it. In the meantime, they were, as Bradley commented to himself, eager to get through this, the last canyon, and spend as few days as possible doing it.
Meanwhile, most of what the major wrote about in his journals, even the inflated report he published later on, was about geology. Still, the tempers of the men continued to simmer and their patience thinned day by day. Here is where another incident factors into the situation, which involved a damaged watch that happened around this time. Most of the details about this incident also came out years later, in the post interviews of Sumner and Hawkins. Bradley also wrote about the ruined watch in his journal.
The Drama Over A Seemingly Minor Issue: In summary, what initially happened before the Separation Canyon split from Major Powell's command was this bit of drama. . .
Dunn, who was considered the best swimmer in the party, and usually the most willing crew member to plunge into the water to do whatever needed to be done, had been lining one of the boats down a rapid. It was always risky business working with the boats this way and one of the ropes caught him under his arms. He nearly drowned but managed to save himself. However, in his pocket was one of Major Powell’s watches Dunn had with him that day, which along with the barometer, was used for taking readings. The watch was also among the last watches that worked.
At dinner, Sumner made the remark to some of the other men that Dunn had come close to drowning in his daring part to free the boat. Walter apparently made the callous remark that Dunn’s drowning would have been a little loss to the others. One thing led to the other and Major Powell soon turned on Dunn and was angry at him for ruining the watch. In fact, he was so upset that he demanded Dunn pay him thirty dollars for the watch. Either that, or he was to leave the party and hike out of the canyon.
There must have been tense silence around the campfire that night. Perhaps some of the men thought the major had made a bad joke. But he wasn’t joking. He insisted Dunn had to reimburse him for the watch or else climb out of the canyon on his own. Dunn was a proud man but he wasn’t stupid. For one thing, his leaving the party at that particular junction of the canyon meant he had a long way to go, possibly some 5,000 feet from the river to the rim. Major Powell must have also known how challenging and dangerous it would be for Dunn to make the climb, let alone what his chances of survival would be if he did make it to the rim. Dunn more than likely thought about the major’s unreasonable demand for a while, then red-faced and incensed as he was he responded to Major Powell’s outburst how a bird couldn’t even fly out of that deep chasm they were in.
After Dunn made this quip, he informed the major he would eventually leave the party, but not just there and then.
According to Hawkins on the matter (i.e., in his post expedition interviews), he informed the major if Dunn were to leave, then he would go, too, and so would Hall and Bradley. He meant they would accompany Dunn down river.
These three men had obviously and previously decided against Major Powell about some of his harsh demands and Dunn now had three loyal others to count on. Then Major Powell soon had a change of mind; at least his temper tantrum subsided somewhat. Eventually, he came to the decision Dunn could pay for the watch after the trip was over. Sumner then interceded on Dunn’s behalf and told the major he could not order Dunn off the trip, nor compel him to pay for rations, not even to reimburse the major for the watch. The Powell brothers were out gunned and one can only wonder what the Howlands must have thought, especially since they, along with Dunn, would eventually abandon the party at Separation Canyon. Again, we really don’t know if they had previously agreed to go off on their own, although the assumption about such an agreement certainly is warranted. The question was: How much longer would they remain with Major Powell and tolerate his unreasonable demands and where would they choose to make their exit? Besides, none of the men really knew how much farther they had to go before the seemingly unending canyon and its equally demanding stretches of whitewater was finally over.
There was something else that Hawkins brought up in his interview that gives testimony to just how volatile the incident of the watch was at that time, and how tempers, like bruised egos, got out of proportion: he mentioned how Andy Hall had disarmed a raging feud between Walter Powell, Hawkins and Dunn. Apparently, Andy held a gun to Walter’s head until Walter calmed down and decided it wasn’t worth risking death or injury administered by a bullet. Andy’s threat to blow off part of Walter’s head (obviously with the intent of the former) did the trick and somehow the men patched things up, however uncomfortable they were from that point on. Bluff or real, Andy's intervening in the affair quelled the dispute. Afterward the men continued down the river and focused on other matters, mainly getting through the rest of the canyon and its rapids. Hawkins also related to Bass (Ibid p.243) how he and Sumner came close to mutiny and the bad feelings among the men would not go away. From that point on, Sumner and Hawkins no longer recognized any authority from the major, or so Hawkins made this statement in his interview with Bass. But history shows what did eventually happen at mile 239.5. Perhaps the ruined watch really was the match that finally lit the powder keg.
The Consequences Of Melodrama And Human Nature: Benjamin Franklin wrote, He that lives upon hope will die fasting. He composed these dire words many years before Major Powell’s men took to the two rivers and the many canyons they explored. To them, life, and living it, was the grindstone and their individual human nature was the blade of the axe. Each crew member had high hopes upon leaving the expedition with a sound mind and healthy body. Yet some of their individual natures were already starting to decay before they entered into the last canyon, that is, their former amicable natures began to change into something more brusque. Consequently, their axes were getting sharper for reasons already cited, the aggregate of which spelled potential trouble beyond what nature’s forces would soon throw at them. And when nature did rise up to challenge the men, could they psychologically hold their own against such stringency?
As history’s lessons showed the world what happened to Captain George Pollard’s Jr. crew of the whaling ship, the Essex, human nature, if left to its own devices can, and will, change its course, and sometimes rather quickly. Whether that nature is philanthropic, a rascal, or abhorrent to begin with, men’s dispositions can, and will, worsen if they feel they are pushed too far. The alteration can come about in any number of ways, but too much stress and strain placed upon men acts like a switch inside the mind’s control center. This is especially the case for those who are already stepping to their personal edges to try to maintain their personal balance, including holding onto their sanity, their patience, and their tolerance of others. As happened to the ill-fated nineteenth century whaling ship that left Nantucket, which was never to return home, the trepidation and travail these (mostly) untested (i.e., greenhorn) sailors faced soon put human nature onto life’s center stage. While their ship, the Essex, was months later rammed, and sunk, by a rogue whale and became the basis for Herman Melville’s classic, Moby Dick. What happened to the crew still remains one of the great men-tested-to-their-absolute-limits heroic journeys and the consequent will to survive against all odds. Their tragedy also attests to the devilish pits of hell such men have to pass through in order to do try and embrace the rewards of a reinstated temperate life, or that time which still remains. However, those that survived the catastrophe of the Essex in order to embrace such a temperate life were also forced to resort to cannibalism.
The crew that remained with Major Powell were nowhere close to having to survive off of one another in such a grizzly way. They were all alive, and although they weren’t looking forward to this, the last canyon-segment to explore, it was, nevertheless, the final stepping stone that was literally laid across the water. They were close to completing their objective and they each knew this. But how close were they? How tight would the food supplies get? Remember: these men badly needed food for fuel and energy. Major Powell certainly knew this. Their bodies could endure only so such much food deprivation, but their minds, now more then ever, were assailed by their provoked and frustrated emotions.
Given this point the human body runs the physical structure. However, it is the brain, and more particularly, that mysterious realm that controls it—the mind. The psychology of this social entity forced to labor and get along with one another was still functional, even on an individual basis. Yet the stress and strain took its toll on the men’s attitudes as well as their patience. So did the lack of proper nourishment. They could hope all they wanted to; they could muse upon the possibility of finding fresh game ahead; they could see their travel sooner or later coming to an end, but it would end; but they had to continually guard the primary agent that kept everything running along as smoothly as possible: their minds. The group dynamics, as seen through their psychological lens and state of mind, was therefore crucial to monitor. If they could not pull together as a cohesive unit, individual by individual would bring a little more dysfunction into their assembly, and the power keg was just waiting for the right match to come along and light itself.
Captain Pollard, who commanded the Essex, was apparently not a strong captain. In fact, it was Owen Chase, the second mate, who really got the last of the survivors back home—and there weren’t too many of the original twenty-one who did make it. Major Powell was a strong captain, however; he had no intentions to let his command get away from him any more then he would fail these men who still loyally served the expedition, or so his manuscript chooses to record such a shared attitude. He comments about the social interaction of the group with remarks like (the men are) as cheerfully as ever, and lets things go at that.
Meanwhile, Sumner and Bradley observed tensions between the men, as well as disagreements they had with Major Powell, which both noted in some of their journal entries. It was obvious the men’s dispositions had all changed in early August. Clearly, the men were not the same exuberant rowing team as they were in late May and early June. If anything, they were adaptive men who learned how to follow orders, like it or not. The psychological breakdown was, in fact, steadily eroding the men’s minds as the canyon was falling apart grain by grain. One observation Bradley made about Major Powell’s cheerful men comment could be overruled where Bradley wrote about the others and commented, “...(they are) as uneasy and discontented and anxious. Once more, we are left holding our own bag of confusion given the two contradictory statements of the men who each made their observations as dated journal entries in their private notes. Unequivocally, Major Powell wasn’t a trained therapist by any stretch of the imagination, much less a man to try to mend the moods of his, at times, discontented or anxious men. But did he realize their personal concerns at some level, and not just their physical needs? Although the major usually chose to portray his men as a group of hardy adventurers who enjoyed themselves even in the face of death, what drove him to writing, years later, an altogether different view of what most likely happened during that time on the river?
The answer to this curious question can be partly deduced from what has already been stated throughout this monograph. For now, let us delve into another ticklish matter that came up soon after the expedition was over. By then, the drama of what happened at Separation Canyon was in the past, or it soon would be. But another Pandora’s Box was opened, this time by the major, who eventually dipped into its generous coffers without sharing such rewards with his men.
You Owe Me Money, Sir! When Sumner left Major Powell at the river, there was a rather touchy matter of financial reimbursement that would follow Sumner for the rest of his life. This sordid affair between the two would also shadow Major Powell long after his demise. In fact, Sumner was not reticent to complain about this indelicate matter throughout the remainder of his days. Here are some of the details about this chafing affair that eventually ended up being part of the historical interviews Sumner gave to Robert Stanton.
According to the Agreement Major Powell had drafted prior to the 1869 expedition, three men were to be paid for their services. All the rest were unpaid volunteers. As it turned out, one other crew member, notably Hawkins, also claimed he was to be paid for his role in the expedition (i.e., as the cook), as well as reimbursed for the equipment and horses he donated to Major Powell prior to embarking on the river. Most people consider money a renewable asset and an essential utility. Some people go so far to consider money as something akin to its being sacred. For Sumner, money was money, while a debt owed was something close to being inviolable. We can assume this much based on his reputation and character.
In Sumner’s view, the major welshed on his promise to compensate him for the full amount he (Sumner) thought he should have been paid after the expedition was over. Later, Hawkins, in his interview with both Robert Stanton and William Bass, also mentioned how he was never fully compensated (i.e., for the traps and horses he sold to the major during the 1868 Rocky Mountain scouting expedition). Whether Oramel Howland and Bill Dunn were paid off at the river (i.e., when they left the expedition) is unclear, because the major never mentioned it in his publication. One can assume the major paid at least part of the seventy-five-dollar debt to each man with the cash he took with him. He also spent very little of the money in view of the fact he wasn’t able to procure too much in the way of new supplies by trade or otherwise at the Uinta Indian Agency.
When the expedition was over, the major handed Sumner seventy-five dollars before he and his brother left the four remaining crew members. Hall and Hawkins were also paid some money (see below), and one can assume Bradley also received some cash, either from the major, or else Sumner shared some of his money with him. What other private arrangements Major Powell made with Sumner and Hawkins is not known, although Sumner, like Hawkins, later revealed they would be duly compensated once the major received his government appropriations. The major also left the four men with the two boats and encouraged them to continue down the river and see more of the country, while he and Walter would go and find out what happened to the Howland brothers and Bill Dunn.
Money issues involving debts are probably the most notorious for breaking up friendships and partnerships. As a guide in Zimbabwe once said to me about such irksome matters, “The most dangerous beast in Africa is the cape bull, because it has the look in its eyes that says, ‘You owe me money!’" Going along with this sentiment, then one can assume such a large and dangerous animal is never fully satisfied until after it makes its charge and inflicts damage on its intended quarry. But Sumner was no cape bull and he did not charge after Major Powell for the rest of the money he was promised. Yet Sumner, and Hawkins, were never compensated for the debt Major Powell owed each of them, that is, according to their version of the story as told in their respective interviews to Stanton, and later Hawkins’ interview with William Bass. (Bass, like Stanton, has an important connection in history with the Grand Canyon. But Bass was not an explorer of some notoriety as was Stanton. Instead, he was a legendary canyon pioneer-turned-tourist camp operator (among other things in life) who happened to take interest in two surviving crew members, Sumner and Hawkins, and wanted to hear more of their side of the story, just as Stanton desired to hear.)
Throughout his life, Sumner maintained he was out more than a thousand dollars on equipment and supplies that were either lost or used on the expedition. Still, both he and Hawkins counted on Major Powell’s word that a voucher would be forthcoming and all debts would be fully settled.
Hawkins, in his interview with Stanton in 1907, nearly matched Sumner’s views on the matter. In that interview, he claimed the major gave him just sixty dollars and paid Hall the same amount. However, Hawkins wasn’t sure how much the major gave to Bradley and Sumner. As for the business of the traps and horses that the major had previously purchased from Hawkins the year before, he was not paid, but promised, this amount. Hawkins also related the major had agreed to pay him $2.50 for each of the thirty-six traps he sold to the major. This fee was in addition to the $1.50 per day Hawkins was to be paid for being the camp cook, who he also mentioned how he saw to it Major Powell’s left hand was washed before every meal.
So, what can we believe about such testimony that came from both men years after the expedition was over? Was Hawkins correct about what he related in the interview with Stanton abut Major Powell’s alleged forthcoming $12,000 and how there would be $1,000 for each of the men and $2,000 for himself once the trip was over? And was Sumner correct about the $1,000 he claimed the major owed him for the equipment he was never paid, although the major promised he would pay him for it with a forthcoming voucher? Were either of these two men blind sided by the major’s oratory and enthusiasm he would be granted such appropriations (which, as it turned out, he was, and then some)? After all, the major returned to Washington a hero and brought back the prize of discovery by means of exploration that no other had done. Therefore, why wouldn’t Sumner and Hawkins accept Major Powell’s word there would be vouchers for each of them in due time? In short, were these two men fabricating their individual versions of money owed to them because they had a grudge with the major, or else they were justifiably owed for something they really didn’t deserve?
In fact, the only man proven to be a fabricator was Major Powell himself. He clearly fudged in his published accounts of those two expeditions turned into one longer foray. As for the relevance of money owed to his men, he simply never mentioned it in any of his post expedition writings.
If this case had gone to court, the judge would have demanded written proof, both in the form of a signed agreement and a signed receipt, from either party. However, there were no signed receipts that we know of and we are left with a private, verbal agreement and arrangement the major had with each of the men. Nevertheless, the accusations of Hawkins and Sumner are still credible in view of their proven characters. Their integrity, along with the forthright account of the expedition Bradley, like Sumner, left us to ponder, certainly counts for something with respect to the charges levied by Sumner and Hawkins about the promised vouchers.
For whatever reasons he had, once he found his new life in Washington Major Powell turned his attention to other matters. Regrettably, he may have forgotten about the debt he owed to both men over the years. One has to wonder if either man ever bothered to write to him and ask him to repay the amount? Thus far, historical records do not show that such correspondence was ever exchanged.
More background about those now famous post expedition interviews will be related further along in the text. For now, we leave the remaining crew members at the Virgin River, while Major Powell bid them each good-bye, and we can assume, with hearty thanks for their loyalty in completing the mission with him. Then he and his brother departed for the North Rim country with the promise of sending vouchers to the men he still owed money to for their service and commitment to the expedition.
Taking the major’s suggestion to explore what remained of the Colorado, the two separate boat crews returned to the becalmed river whose temperament was not the same as it flowed through the canyons. For the time being they had nothing better to do, and apparently they had no inclination to join the major and his brother and go back and search for their three comrades. At least, this concern is not mentioned in any of their writings.
Eventually, they all made it to Yuma, where Bradley and Hawkins got out of their boat and went their separate ways. They had enough of the river and preferred more solid terrain.
Meanwhile, Sumner and Hall were still interested in exploration by way of the Colorado and continued as far as the Gulf of California. Once there, they also went their separate ways. The rest of their story will be told at the close of this text.
Historical photo of the flat country (where the Colorado River merges with the Gila River):
The First Through All The Green and Colorado River Canyons: As a note of historical interest, that part of the lower Colorado River below the Grand Canyon was relatively known and explored by many people, including the Mormons, enterprising sorts, even the scientific survey led by the previously mentioned Lieutenant Joseph Christmas Ives, in 1858. Because he had previously traveled up the Colorado River starting from Yuma (in a stern wheeler called the Explorer), then went overland toward present day Peach Springs, he and his men eventually found a way into the Grand Canyon. Traveling down what is today called the Diamond Creek road below Peach Springs the Ives expedition made it back to the Colorado River, only this time they stood gaping up at the soaring walls from inside the Grand Canyon. This was part of the Grand Canyon West country that is located on the Hualapai Indian Reservation, and adjacent to the Havasupai Indian Reservation just east of Peach Springs. Lieutenant Ives exploration of the lower Colorado River basin, including this province of the Grand Canyon, was not similar to Major Powell’s odyssey, although the gutsy young officer is still credited with the first scientific exploration of part of the Grand Canyon’s interior.
Historical drawing of The Explorer in Black Canyon (present-day Lake Mead):
Notably, Lt. Ives pretty much figured the stupendous chasm was the kind of terra incognito that no one would be interested in seeing, much less exploring in greater detail. Earlier in this text his remarks were recorded. His eulogy for the Grand Canyon came down to its being akin to a profitless locality.
In view of his stern, though poignant, comments about the Grand Canyon’s hostile setting (mentioned in a previous diary), his depiction was fairly agreed upon description at that time. For example, in 1859 Captain John Macomb of the Corps of Topographical Engineers had ventured into another part of the Southwest canyon country. His mission was to survey a wagon route from northeastern New Mexico into southern Utah. He was some fifty miles from the junction of the San Juan and Colorado rivers and figured there was no way such a road could be built. Apparently, he was less enchanted with the canyon country than Lieutenant Ives to the point he had nothing good or poetic to say about what he wrote in his report. This summary pretty much describes what was on the captain’s mind when he drafted his thoughts—
“Perhaps no portion of the earth’s surface is more irredeemably sterile, more hopelessly lost to human habitation." (Colorado River Country, Lavender p.77)
If his pessimistic remarks about the canyon country weren’t downright inflammatory, as well as intentionally written to discourage habitation of the region he explored, then they were certainly peremptory in scope. Yet such a road was, in fact, finally considered feasible to build, which now crossed the 36th parallel. This feat took place after yielding to the second crossing of the continent, the 32nd parallel across the southern part of the state (through Yuma). As for the first continental crossing, it was the 38th parallel that crossed over the Rocky Mountains. This route was pioneered by another explorer at that time, John Charles Frémont.
Major Powell’s adventure and first accomplishment with his men, as well as his passionate and poetic enthusiasm for the geology of the Green and Colorado River country, would continue to spawn other adventurers headed into the still formidable canyon country of the Southwest, starting with the major’s next venture in 1871. Other explorers would eventually follow, like Frank Brown and Robert Brewster Stanton. Starting at Green River, Utah, their equally ambitious survey party would take on the challenge of the Colorado River, especially the last few canyons before the whitewater played out. By the turn of the century other explorers and adventurers would follow, mostly those who searched for plunder in the form of valuable ore or precious metals.
A fitting depiction for how the Brown-Stanton survey ended by the time the men reached the Grand Canyon (actually, just inside the walls of Marble Canyon):
Across from the rapid where Brown drowned is this fitting memorial inscribed on a prominent boulder:
Toward the latter part of the 20th century thousands of people would come to this province, mostly non explorer types who simply wanted to take in the scenery and experience the adventure of whitewater. Millions of others would end up at the rim overlooking the chasm. Somehow the ‘profitless locality’ designate did not hold favor with the general public of the twentieth century. Indeed, the Southwest’s reputation as an “irredeemably sterile, more hopelessly lost to human habitation” setting was invalidated by way of popular consensus. The settlers and enterprising types all came and so did the tourists. Major Powell was partly responsible for the avalanche of humankind to invade this vast region that had stymied so many others before his time. Yet in all fairness he petitioned Congress and other politicians about overdevelopment of the West due to the typical aridity. Indeed, he thought the 160-acre allotment granted by the Homestead Act was in fact too minimal (and thought the figure should have been up'd to around 2,000 or more). Guess who won that battle of wills?
Thanks For The Memories, Boys! The John Wesley Powell saga does not end here. Not by a long shot. For one thing, the matter of what happened to the three men leaves us with one of the greatest human mysteries of the Grand Canyon, if not the most famous. By that time the major and his brother made it to the North Rim country, then onto Salt Lake City and Chicago. One would assume the major was eager to find out what had happened to the three men, indeed, if they even made it out of the canyon alive. One would assume as much, but that is not entirely the case. Here is what took place during that time to show cause why Major Powell may have had other priorities on his mind at that time.
On September 8, while the major and Walter were en route to Salt Lake City, their first planned stop before heading back to Illinois, Salt Lake City’s Desert Evening News had reported the solemn news, “Three of the Powell Expedition Killed by Indians,” (Dolnick p.280). The story must have been quite a shock to the Powell brothers, or one has to assume as much. Presumably, three men were recently murdered, reputedly by Indians. It was further alleged the three men were killed as an act of reprisal for having molested and killed a squaw from the tribe. The major figured the three men that were killed were no doubt his own men, although he did not believe any of them were guilty of the charge. Despite his personal feelings for these men, his experience with them on the river, including his relationship with them from the previous year, demonstrated none of their characters could or would stoop to such a debase nature. Besides, they were still members of his expedition and had certain documents and possessions they were consigned to carry and deliver (see below). Their conduct was therefore expected to be exemplary and professional. What they did with their lives and morality upon reaching their homes was another matter. Perhaps this view of the men was what the major thought at that time. And if these were his three men who gave up their lives, it was not only their reputations at stake, but also his.
The major would have more to say about the matter later, that is, in his published account of the details. For the time being, the sobering and sad news was real and the actual reason the men were killed would, he hoped, be revealed in time. Yet the funny thing about this sad business was how the major never launched a thorough search for the three men. The Mormons did, however, or so he was led to believe. The fact of the matter was the major should have taken more interest in this sordid affair, even though it meant his going home and to other places would be delayed. Instead, he continued on with his travel plans. The major may have felt it was more important to press on to Washington, his final destination, where he may have already concocted the idea to launch another expedition of the two rivers. His return to the river was, after all, what he ended up doing. And who can really say what state of mind he was in at that time, especially in view of what his deeper thoughts about the three men were beyond the fact they were most likely dead? Let’s just say their leaving the main party at the river may have been an unforgivable act in Major Powell’s eyes, in time he would eulogize each of them without such vindication.
Leaving the matter to the Mormons, who still could not find and retrieve the men’s bodies, the major and Walter boarded the train to Chicago. They left on September 15 and arrived five days later. There the major gave interviews to interested reporters and there he told ‘his version’ of the story. The only good news that was finally validated was the fact he and five of his men did survive the ordeal, and that no others were lost to the rivers. Such reports still persisted even after he and the others left the mouth of the Unita River.
The Next Expedition In The Making: A year or so later Major Powell would officially announce to the country he intended to make another run down the two rivers, basically doing the same thing as before, only this time his ‘scientific’ exploration would be more thorough, even longer, also with a new crew. Possibly, one or two of his other crew members, notably Hawkins and Sumner, might join the team (see below for more of that story). Since he was now the country’s latest hero, and certainly a man who had delivered most of what he said he would set out to find, Major Powell won a rather sizable appropriation fee from Congress, which was what Sumner and some of the others counted on by way of their eventual and complete reimbursement. Not only the Federal Government was fully behind the major at this time, but so were other prestigious organizations, like the Smithsonian. Now that the major had the money to conduct a bigger and better enterprise he was rather industrious in planning the next expedition, although he was remiss in paying what he owed. Again, these allegations were levied against him, mainly by Sumner.
The Telling Story That Remains A Mystery And A Pity: Those three missing men—what really did happen to them, besides the news they were killed by Indians? First of all, in spite of how well things turned out for the major. (In short, he was acclaimed a national hero, he was later appointed the head of the United States Geological Survey, as well as the head of the newly created Bureau of Ethnology, and he was monetarily and substantially rewarded for his daring exploit.) But there was still a fly in the ointment, only the fly turned out to be three ghosts—the men who were killed and whose bodies had never been found. By that time, it was assumed the murdered men were the Howland brothers and Bill Dunn. Thus, by some stroke of luck that eventually went the other way, these three separatists from the main party did, in fact, make it out of the canyon alive.
What is the proof (or asserted proof) they made it out? Simply this. There was an inscription, Dunn 1869, found high up on Mount Dellenbaugh on the North Rim. Apparently, Dunn had climbed up the basaltic peak that overlooked the many cinder cones in that remote and lonely parcel of volcanic country, then made his mark near its summit. After the next expedition in 1871 the major named the prominent peak after Frederick Dellenbaugh. The fact the name was there seemed to prove at least one of the men had made it out of the canyon. That is, if the inscription really was etched by Bill Dunn. Then again, the name also induces obvious questions that need to be asked. For example, was it Bill Dunn’s handwriting? What were the Howland brothers doing all this time? Did they also go up to that high point with Dunn or stay down below while he got his bearings?
Because the bodies of the three men were never found, nor did any of their possessions ever turn up, including the maps and the valuable instruments they carried (i.e., an expensive barometer or chronometer worth an estimated $650.00 along with compasses), sound evidence is therefore lacking. The law can, and often does, prosecute its cases on circumstantial evidence. But in this case we’re talking about a supposed murder of three men, based on retaliation by the Indians. Yet did such a massacre take place? Moreover, if the men were killed, was it at the hands of the Indians? Or non-Indians? We’ll return to this striking point further along. For the time being, let it be understood that the side canyon these men chose to exit the Grand Canyon is a typical North Rim drainage that is difficult and challenging for any hiker. Navigating through the interior of the Grand Canyon’s backcountry is tough by any standards especially where no known trails exist. This sector of the canyon certainly was not well traveled by anyone, save for some animals that may have used part of this region to venture down into the canyon. Consider, too, how hot it was, how tired and exhausted the men must have been on that date, how cumbersome it was for them to travel, and, of course, selecting a reliable route up through scores of formations, with the Redwall Formation the toughest and thickest formation of them all.
In short, what if the three men never made it out of the canyon, either on that day or the following days? If so, there their adventure and story ends. Well, more or less it does. Also, without their bodies or bones, and the possessions each carried, speculation quickly turned into fable and the emotional furor became a full-blown gale by the time the news of their disappearance and consequent killing began to circulate. There were also rumors floating around about some of their personal effects turning up here and there. One item in particular got someone’s attention, namely Jack Sumner. Prior to the three men leaving the party Sumner handed Oramel Howland his watch for safekeeping and wanted Oramel to give the watch to his sister when he got back to Denver. Sumner even claimed he saw someone with the watch, for he recognized it by a certain screw he had made and put in himself. But before he could get a closer look at the watch and reclaim it as his own it was spirited away. This information he related years later to Stanton in the interview Sumner gave.
As time passed, the mysterious circumstances surrounding the missing three men was no longer a topical matter, although the incident and its intrigue still refused to go away. This was in spite of what the Mormons claimed, who were quite certain the Indians were the guilty party. Whether or not the charges made by the Indians were true was a moot point. The fact was the Indians were branded with the deed and that was how the Mormons hoped the story would stand, then finally end. Yet that’s not what happened. There were many stories, mostly false rumors, that cropped up at that time about the missing men, and so the mysteries, riddles, and conjectures began to weave a complicated tapestry of many possibilities. Even different Indians were suspected in the murder. Was it the Paiutes or the Shivwits who tracked down the men and murdered them? Or did a band of Indians, namely the Hualapais, cross the river in search of three men who harmed one of their own, then eventually found the Howlands and Dunn and killed them for the deed?
Eventually, a new theory came to light, and this time the blame fell squarely on the Anglos. By some accounts, the items the men were purportedly carrying when they left the expedition were valuable. Major Powell said as much in some of the interviews he gave to the press. Two of the men may even have had a lot of cash on them. That is, if Major Powell paid them all or part of what he owed Oramel and Dunn prior to their leaving the party. If there was any truth to this, then highwaymen may have been responsible for robbing and murdering the men. By other accounts, perhaps the men were mistaken for Federal spies, which meant the Mormons weren’t taking any chances and killed the men. If this was the case, the true identity of the three men wasn’t known by the Mormons, although later in time the truth of the matter told them otherwise. By then it would have been too late to undo the mistake, even though the Mormons would try to cover up the wrongdoing by any means possible (see below).
What did Major Powell concern himself with during this investigative time? The evidence one way or the other simply turned up nothing conclusive and he came to accept the report the men were, indeed, murdered by the Indians, even if his men might have been mistaken for someone else. Meanwhile, the Indians denied any wrong doing in the affair, or else it was the case of a few renegades may have acted on their own and committed the deed. Fingers of blame could be pointed in many directions, at many people both Indians and whites. Yet there was no way to know who the guilty party really was. Whoever killed the men, and assuming they even made it out of the Grand Canyon in the first place, the bodies were disposed of and never to be found again. With one exception to this fact, the matter eventually lost interest in most people’s minds, or else it was put to rest due to lack of evidence one way or the other. However, the mystery would continue to haunt the North Rim country. It was simply no way for these men to end up after so many days on the river, especially considering how close they were to the end, only to end up being killed, or else lost inside the canyon and succumbing to natural causes.
New Evidence Emerges—Culpable Secrets, Perhaps? Many years later, the old haunt of the Mormons accused of the crime returned in the form of a letter. In this case, the historian, Professor Wesley P. Larsen found what he considered to be irrefutable proof there was a conspiracy around that time. It was telltale evidence that may have involved the fates of three men, most likely Major Powell’s missing men. The conspiracy also involved certain members of the Mormon Church, which Larsen was also a member of that faith. Here’s how this new shocking turn of events happened.
In the 1980s, the professor had turned up potentially incriminating, evidence that he found in an old trunk that contained some letters written around the time the Howlands and Dunn had disappeared. Among the letters was one in particular that was authored by William Leany to John Steele. Apparently, it was the most important piece of research and evidence the sleuth-historian had discovered, although Professor Larsen wasn’t expecting to discover the sordid contents of what the letter revealed. He was simply doing some research on Mormon history and here was the grand surprise of them all.
Because he was a professor emeritus and former dean of the College of Science at Southern Utah University, Professor Larsen clearly had the acumen for the kind of research he was doing. How he came upon the letters was also a stroke of luck, for he had purchased an historic house built by one John Steel in Toquerville, Utah. Steels, himself, was a judge (in Parowan), a major, and a county recorder. He was considered a well-respected Mormon who originally came to America from his native country, Ireland. When he found the old trunk in the house, Professor Larsen rummaged through its contents and examined the old documents and letters John Steele’s great grandson, Gary Callister, had stored in the trunk. Among the bounty of historical papers Professor Larsen discovered a letter that was written to John Steele in 1883 by William Leany. The letter was apparently written in response to a letter Steele had previously drafted to Leany. To Professor Larsen’s amazement, the letter suggested it was time for both of them to confess to some deed that had been committed and for each to repent for their sin (about the wrongdoing).
After all of the years had passed since the Howlands and Dunn had disappeared, and long after some of the stories and rumors died away, leaving a teasing mystery that simply would not go away, Professor Larsen discovered new evidence about three men who were executed by a coven of Mormons that felt the act was justified. Apparently, the three executed men were thought to be Federal spies and the punishment was swift and deadly in the eyes of their executioners. At that time, the President of the Mormon Church, Brigham Young, spread the word to his followers there was an imminent intestine war to be fought with the Union Army. The intelligence network of the Mormon Church was impressive by any stretch of the imagination. They knew they were constantly being spied on and each Mormon community was poised to defend itself, as well as to keep all strangers in check, especially those whom the Mormons considered were spies. According to the information exchanged between Steele and Leany three unlucky souls paid with their lives for being judged spies. After the men were captured they were taken to Toquerville to stand before an appointed (Mormon) judge. Although the names of the three slain men were not mentioned in the letter, it is probably the Howlands and Bill Dunn were the victims, for there were no other similar reports of three men being put to death around that time. To compound the dreadful deed, even the executioner requested to be killed, for he could not live with himself after being order to act as the executioner. According to Mormon belief at that time, such an execution was also considered swift justice and cleansed the souls of whoever ended up dying. It was also the most expeditious way to get into the celestial kingdom, and is the highest afterlife reward for Mormonism.
What happened once the letter was examined by Professor Larsen? The secrets of the letter started to circulate and before long Professor Larsen’s research was no longer his own personal project. He was ordered to turn the evidence over to the Mormon Church. Since that time little has been said about the matter one way or the other. The church denies any complicity in the matter. The general consensus is that the evidence is seriously lacking facts. Possibly. But according to the details of the letter the fact remains three men were killed by the Mormons. Whether or not it was the private concerns of the Mormons at that time is not the issue here. What is the issue is the fact those three men very well could have been Major Powell’s men and were mistaken for Federal spies. If the Mormon executioners realized in time they had made a mistake, they have simply not confessed to the crime. Nor has any physical evidence turned up in the way of bones, personal possessions, and so on. Perhaps there will be more letters revealed some day, or some other evidence, that will finally put the matter to rest once and for all.
In view of a limited number of photos posted on this diary, mainly because there were no corresponding photos for most of the text testimonials revealed, here are some fitting photos that I am sure all of the men waxed nostalgic given their memories of the adventure. . .
A depiction of the upper Green River (from the beginning of the expedition):
Echo Rock (at Split Mountain, the Green River):
The boats and crew, a similar replication of a photo taken during the 2nd expedition:
The Gates of Lodore (where the first signs of trouble showed up in a feisty rapid):
The picture representation of the camp conflagration below Upper Disaster Falls:
Where these brave men explored from start to finish:
To be continued tomorrow (posting in the late afternoon). As always, your thoughtful commentaries are welcomed.
Rich
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