The Last American Frontier

by Frederic L. Paxson

Whether the ocean could be reached by any river between the Columbia and Colorado was a matter of much interest to persons concerned with the control of the Pacific. The facts, well enough known to the trappers, had not yet received scientific record when Frémont started south from the Dalles in November, 1843, to ascertain them. His march across the Nevada desert was made in the dead of winter under difficulties that would have brought a less resolute explorer to a stop. It ended in March, 1844, at Sutter's ranch in the Sacramento Valley, with half his horses left upon the road. His homeward march carried him into southern California and around the sources of the Colorado, proving by recorded observation the difficult character of the country between the mountains and the Pacific.

In following years the Pathfinder revisited the scenes of these two expeditions upon which his reputation is chiefly based. A man of resolution and moderate ability, the glory attendant upon his work turned his head. His later failures in the face of military problems far beyond his comprehension tended to belittle the significance of his earlier career, but history may well agree with the eminent English traveller, Burton, who admits that: "Every foot of ground passed over by Colonel Frémont was perfectly well known to the old trappers and traders, as the interior of Africa to the Arab and Portuguese pombeiros. But this fact takes nothing away from the honors of the man who first surveyed and scientifically observed the country." Through these two journeys the Pacific West rose in clear definition above the American intellectual horizon. "The American Eagle," quoth the Platte (Missouri) Eagle in 1843, "is flapping his wings, the precurser [sic] of the end of the British lion, on the shores of the Pacific. Destiny has willed it."

The year in which Frémont made his first expedition to the mountains was also the year of the first formal, conducted emigration to Oregon. Missionaries beyond the mountains had urged upon Congress the appointment of an American representative and magistrate for the country, with such effect that Dr. Elijah White, who had some acquaintance with Oregon, was sent out as sub-Indian agent in the spring of 1842. With him began the regular migration of homeseekers that peopled Oregon during the next ten years. His emigration was not large, perhaps eighteen Pennsylvania wagons and 130 persons; but it seems to have been larger than he expected, and large enough to raise doubt as to the practicability of taking so many persons across the plains at once. In the decade following, every May, when pasturage was fresh and green, saw pioneers gathering, with or without premeditation, at the bend of the Missouri, bound for Oregon. Independence and its neighbor villages continued to be the posts of outfit. How many in the aggregate crossed the plains can never be determined, in spite of the efforts of the pioneer societies of Oregon to record their names. The distinguishing feature of the emigration was its spontaneous individualistic character. Small parties, too late for the caravan, frequently set forth alone. Single families tried it often enough to have their wanderings recorded in the border papers. In the spring following the crossing of Elijah White emigrants gathered by hundreds at the Missouri ferries, until an estimate of a thousand in all is probably not too high. In 1844 the tide subsided a little, but in 1845 it established a new mark in the vicinity of three thousand, and in 1847 ran between four and five thousand. These were the highest figures, yet throughout the decade the current flowed unceasingly.

The migration of 1843, the earliest of the fat years, may be taken as typical of the Oregon movement. Early in the year faces turned toward the Missouri rendezvous. Men, women, and children, old and young, with wagons and cattle, household equipment, primitive sawmills, and all the impedimenta of civilization were to be found in the hopeful crowd. For some days after departure the unwieldy party, a thousand strong, with twice as many cattle and beasts of burden, held together under Burnett, their chosen captain. But dissension beyond his control soon split the company. In addition to the general fear that the number was dangerously high, the poorer emigrants were jealous of the rich. Some of the latter had in their equipment cattle and horses by the score, and as the poor man guarded these from the Indian thieves during his long night watches he felt the injustice which compelled him to protect the property of another. Hence the party broke early in June. A "cow column" was formed of those who had many cattle and heavy belongings; the lighter body went on ahead, though keeping within supporting distance; and under two captains the procession moved on. The way was tedious rather than difficult, but habit soon developed in the trains a life that was full and complete. Oregon, one of the migrants of 1842 had written, was a "great country for unmarried gals." Courtship and marriage began almost before the States were out of sight. Death and burial, crime and punishment, filled out the round of human experience, while Dr. Whitman was more than once called upon in his professional capacity to aid in the enlargement of the band.

Fort Laramie in 1842

From a sketch made to illustrate Frémont's report.

The trail to Oregon was the longest road yet developed in the United States. It started from the Missouri River anywhere between Independence and Council Bluffs. In the beginning, Independence was the common rendezvous, but as the agricultural frontier advanced through Iowa in the forties numerous new crossings and ferries were made further up the stream. From the various ferries the start began, as did the Santa Fé trade, sometime in May. By many roads the wagons moved westward towards the point from which the single trail extended to the mountains. East of Grand Island, where the Platte River reaches its most southerly point, these routes from the border were nearly as numerous as the caravans, but here began the single highway along the river valley, on its southern side. At this point, in the years immediately after the Mexican War, the United States founded a military post to protect the emigrants, naming it for General Stephen W. Kearny, commander of the Army of the West. From Fort Kearney (custom soon changed the spelling of the name) to the fur-trading post at Laramie Creek the trail followed the river and its north fork. Fort Laramie itself was bought from the fur company and converted into a military post which became a second great stopping-place for the emigrants. Shortly west of Laramie, the Sweetwater guided the trail to South Pass, where, through a gap twenty miles in width, the main commerce between the Mississippi Valley and the Pacific was forced to go. Beyond South Pass, Wyeth's old Fort Hall was the next post of importance on the road. From Fort Hall to Fort Boisé the trail continued down the Snake, cutting across the great bend of the river to meet the Columbia near Walla Walla.

The journey to Oregon took about five months. Its deliberate, domesticated progress was as different as might be from the commercial rush to Santa Fé. Starting too late, the emigrant might easily get caught in the early mountain winter, but with a prompt start and a wise guide, or pilot, winter always found the homeseeker in his promised land. "This is the right manner to settle the Oregon question," wrote Niles, after he had counted over the emigrants of 1844.