Narrative Environment

The narrative environment consists of the narratives that act upon us, but also the audiences we perceive and sense for the narratives that we create, both in words and by actions.

What makes “heritage” teaching different from other teaching?

One of the things I thought about at Mary’s assembly to recognize veterans in Bigfork was how important it seemed that young people had gathered and were telling each other the stories they wrote about the lives of older people, who were physically present in the room. The heroes of these stories were war veterans, but they could have been businessmen, nurses, teachers, ranchers, artists, scientists, or anyone else who understood the role of generativity in making a life: creating an identity by authoring a life story around the work of creating and producing something that would benefit the larger community.

The emphasis upon thinking about how particular communities are formed and held together and upon local research is powerful because when adults tell students that the stories of people where they live are important, they are disagreeing profoundly with lots of stories young people will hear in the virtual worlds that are being built in the digital cosmos that has more and more influence in the formation of teenagers’ identities.

Many advertisements tell simple little stories that suggest life is a moment, and that therefore being gorgeous, with the “right” hair style, or article of clothing, or automobile will bring fulfillment.

But old people telling their stories inevitably teach that life lasts a long time, though youth and possessions do not. Teachers who find interview subjects who can tell, through their experiences, the ways that that character matters and the ways quick decisions set in motion consequences that ripple on for decades may be doing young people a profound service.

By approaching history through the stories of people who did not hold high office or greatly influence large events, teachers shift the attention of young people from the state to society. The society is more fundamental, in the sense that it comes first and it may remain after the nation disintegrates. At the national level, our politics is corrupted by dishonest discourse. Without honest discourse, we have no way to forge the shared sense of identity and purpose needed if the nation is to become, however imperfectly, a manifestation of our common will and not merely a smelly mechanism operated by crooks and robbers according to their hidden designs.

We can leave politics from time to time to meet in society--with family and friends and people we know in our towns and neighborhoods--and talk honestly about what we care about and what we have learned. When we do this, our heritage is alive. We come to understand our most important tasks. We understand that the laws passed in Helena are less important than the commitments we make to each other. 

Posted by Michael L Umphrey on 06/23 at 06:14 AM
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2007 Montana Heritage Project

The Narrative Environment that Constituted James Madison’s Education

James Madison and the other Founders of the United States Constitution grew into consciousness in a narrative environment that was quite different from the narrative environment that exists in much of America today. We can get a glimpse of the differences by paying attention to the way some words were used. For example, in the second half of the Eighteenth Century, “democracy” was normally used as a term of disdain in the American colonies. Democracy was understood as something to be avoided, because it threatened liberty and justice.

One of James Madison’s teachers at the College of New Jersey (later Princeton University) was John Witherspoon. Witherspoon argued that governments had both noble and perverted forms. A monarchy could be perverted into tyranny, an aristocracy could be perverted into an oligarchy, and a constitutional polity could be perverted into a democracy. In a democracy, Witherspoon taught, it was the will of demogogues rather than the rule of law that was supreme.

Many people today have grown up in a narrative environment that teaches that majority rule is good because it is the best way for the most people to get what they want. Our narrative environment has been greatly influenced by the utilitarianism of Jeremy Bentham. Bentham argued in the 1790s that “every action should be judged right or wrong according to how far it tends to promote or damage the happiness of the community.” He disliked the idea that the government could be trusted to make moral rules and argued that pleasure and pain were the true guides to what was right in in human conduct. He thought the government should act to increase the total amount of happiness by working for “the greatest happiness of the greatest number.”

In practice, this idea wasn’t as useful as it might sound at first because people don’t agree about what is good or will make them happy. Some people want wild wolves howling in the woods around their chalet while others want sheep grazing unmolested in the pastoral meadow. Who is to decide?

For Madison and many of his contemporaries, the world had a moral order put there by the Creator, and people were given reason, by which they could see and understand that moral order.  A government brought itself into harmony with that order by establishing justice. A government was noble rather than perverse when it acted justly. Whether or not decisions were made by a majority or how many people particpated in the process was a different and less fundamental question.

By “justice” they didn’t have in mind the concept of “social justice” which has become popular more recently. In fact, the notion that the government should take property from some citizens and give it to others to have a more equitable distribution would have been nearly opposite what they meant. They believed that individuals had the right to be secure in their property, and that a just government would protect that right.  The law protected people from government power, and certain principles such as due process, the right to confront one’s accusers, the right to legal counsel, the right to confront one’s accusers, and bars against self-incrimination and ex post facto laws (laws applied retroactively, making something a crime that wasn’t illegal when it was done). Justice was brought about by having everyone judged by the same law.

Another example that illustrates how Madison and his colleagues might have thought differently than many people today is their discussion of the word “toleration” at the Virginia Convention of 1776. Madison’s mentor, George Mason, had drafted an article on religious freedom that stated “all men shou’d enjoy the fullest Toleration in the Exercise of Religion, according to the Dictates of Conscience.” This was the common view of educated men at that time and place. It was drawn from John Locke’s Letters on Toleration, published in 1667.

But some, such as Madison, were also familiar with more recent arguments by Thomas Paine that toleration was “. . .not the opposite of intolerance, but . . .the counterfeit of it. Both are despotisms. The one assumes to itself the right of withholding liberty of conscience, the other of granting it.” Toleration seemed a privilege that authorities might give or hold back, but Madison wanted a more profound and absolute right. “All men are equally entitled to the free exercise of religion,” he wrote in his revisted draft of the article, and it “is the mutual duty of all to practie Christian forbearance, love, and charity towards each other.” This version passed without great controversy.

Posted by Michael L Umphrey on 06/22 at 06:14 AM
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2007 Montana Heritage Project

Narrative environment: The Arrest and Execution of Captain J. A. Slade

by Thomas J. Dimsdale, from The Vigilantes of Montana, 1865

The Arrest and Execution of Captain J. A. Slade, With a Short Account of His Previous Career.

“Some write him hero, some a very knave;
Curses and tears are mingled at his grave.” -Anon.

J. A. Slade, or, as he was often called, Captain Slade, was raised in Clinton County, Ill., and was a member of a highly respectable family. He bore a good character for several years in that place. The acts which have given so wide a celebrity to his name were performed especially on the Overland Line, of which he was for years an official. Reference to these matters will be made in a subsequent part of this chapter.

Captain J. A. Slade came to Virginia City in the spring of 1863. He was a man gifted with the power of making money, and when free from the influence of alcoholic stimulants, which seemed to reverse his nature, and to change a kind-hearted and intelligent gentleman into a reckless demon, no man in the Territory had a greater faculty of attracting the favorable notice of even strangers, and in spite of the wild lawlessness which characterized his frequent spells of intoxication, he had many, very many friends whom no commission of crime itself could detach from his personal companionship. Another and less desirable class of friends were attracted by his very recklessness. There are probably a thousand individuals in the West possessing a correct knowledge of the leading incidents of a career that terminated. at the gallows, who still speak of Slade as a perfect gentleman, and who not only lament his death, but talk in the highest terms of his character, and pronounce his execution a murder. One way of accounting for the diversity of opinion regarding Slade is sufficiently obvious. Those who saw him in his natural state only would pronounce him to be a kind husband, a most hospitable host and a courteous gentleman. On the contrary, those who met him when maddened with liquor and surrounded by a gang of armed roughs, would pronounce him a fiend incarnate.

During the summer of 1863 he went to Milk River as a freighter. For this business he was eminently qualified, and he made a great deal of money. Unfortunately his habit of profuse expenditure was uncontrollable, and at the time of his execution he was deeply in debt almost everywhere.

After the execution of the five men on the 14th of January the Vigilantes considered that their work was nearly ended. They had freed the country from highwaymen and murderers to a great extent, and they determined that in the absence of the regular civil authority they would establish a People’s Court, where all offenders should be tried by judge and jury. This was the nearest approach to social order that the circumstances permitted, and though strict legal authority was wanting yet the people were firmly determined to maintain its efficiency and to enforce its decrees. It may here be mentioned that the overt act which was the last round on the fatal ladder leading to the scaffold on which Slade perished, was the tearing in pieces and stamping upon a writ of this court, followed by the arrest of the judge, Alex. Davis, by authority of a presented derringer and with his own hands.

J. A. Slade was himself, we have been informed, a Vigilanter; he openly boasted of it, and said he knew all that they knew. He was never accused or even suspected of either murder or robbery committed in this Territory (the latter crimes were never laid to his charge in any place); but that he had killed several men in other localities was notorious, and his bad reputation in this respect was a most powerful argument in determining his fate, when he was finally arrested for the offence above mentioned. On returning from Milk River he became more and more addicted to drinking; until at last it was a common feat for him and his friends to “take the town.” He and a couple of his dependents might often be seen on one horse, galloping through the streets, shouting and yelling, firing revolvers, etc. On many occasions he would ride his horse into stores; break up bars; toss the scales out of doors, and use most insulting language to parties present. Just previous to the day of his arrest, he had given a fearful beating to one of his followers; but such was his influence over them that the man wept bitterly at the gallows and begged for his life with all his power. It had become quite common when Slade was on a spree for the shopkeepers and citizens to close the stores and put out all the lights; being fearful of some outrage at his hands. One store in Nevada he never ventured to enter--that of the Lott Brothers--as they had taken care to let him know that any attempt of the kind would be followed by his sudden death, and though he often rode down there, threatening to break in and raise, yet he never attempted to carry his threat into execution. For his wanton destruction of goods and furniture he was always ready to pay when sober if he had money; but there were not a few who regarded payment as small satisfaction for the outrage, and these men were his personal enemies.

From time to time, Slade received warnings from men that he well knew would not deceive him, of the certain end of his conduct. There was not a moment, for weeks previous to his arrest, in which the public did not expect to hear of some bloody out rage. The dread of his very name and the presence of the armed band of hangers-on who followed him, alone prevented a resistance which must certainly have ended in the instant murder or mutilation of the opposing party.

Slade was frequently arrested by order of the court whose organization we have described, and had treated it with respect by paying one or two fines, and promising to pay the rest when he had the money; but in the transaction, and goaded by passion and. the hatred of restraint, he sprang into the embrace of death.

Slade had been drunk and “cutting up” all night. He and his companions had made the town a perfect hell. In the morning, J. M. Fox, the Sheriff, met him, arrested him, took him into court, and commenced reading a warrant that he had for his arrest, by way of arraignment. He became uncontrollably furious, and seizing the writ, he tore it up, threw it on the ground, and stamped upon it. The clicking of the locks of his companions’ revolvers was instantly heard and a crisis was expected. The Sheriff did not attempt his capture; but being at least as prudent as he was valiant, he succumbed, leaving Slade the master of the situation, and the conqueror and ruler of the courts, law and law-makers. This was a declaration of war, and was so accepted. The Vigilance Committee now felt that the question of social order and the preponderance of the law-abiding citizens had then and there to be decided. They knew the character of Slade, and they were well aware that they must submit to his rule without murmur, or else that he must be dealt with in such fashion as would prevent his being able to wreak his vengeance on the Committee, who could never have hoped to live in the Territory secure from outrage or death, and who could never leave it without encountering his friends, whom his victory would have emboldened and stimulated to a pitch that would have rendered them reckless of consequences. The day previous, he had ridden into Dorris’s store, and on being requested to leave, he drew his revolver and threatened to kill the gentleman who spoke to him. Another saloon he had led his horse into, and buying a bottle of wine, he tried to make the animal drink it. This was not considered an uncommon performance, as he had often entered saloons, and commenced firing at the lamps, causing a wild stampede.

A leading member of the Committee met Slade, and informed him in the quiet, earnest manner of one who feels the importance of what he is saying, “Slade, get your horse at once, and go home, or there will be -to pay.” Slade started and took a long look with his dark and piercing eyes, at the gentleman -"What do you mean?” said he. “You have no right to ask me what I mean,” was the quiet reply, “get you horse at once, and remember what I tell you.” After a short pause he promised to do so, and actually got into the saddle; but, being still intoxicated, he began calling aloud to one after another of his friends, and at last seemed to have forgotten the warning he had received and became again uproarious, shouting the name of a well-known prostitute in company with those of two men whom he considered heads of the Committee, as a sort of challenge; perhaps, however, as a single act of bravado. It seems probable that the intimation of personal danger he had received had not been forgotten entirely; though, fatally for him, he took a foolish way of. showing his remembrance of it. He sought out Alexander Davis, the Judge of the Court, and drawing a cocked derringer, he presented it at his head, and told him that he should hold him as a hostage for his own safety. As the Judge stood perfectly quiet, and offered no resistance to his captor, no further outrage followed on this score. Previous to this, on account of the critical state of affairs, the Committee had met, and at last resolved to arrest him. His execution had not been agreed upon, and, at that time, would have been negatived, most assuredly. A messenger rode down to Nevada to inform the leading men of what was on hand, as it was desirable to show that there was a feeling of unanimity on the subject, all along the Gulch.

The miners turned out almost en masse, leaving their work and forming in solid column, about six hundred strong, armed to the teeth, they marched up to Virginia. The leader of the body well knew the temper of his men on the subject. He spurred on ahead of them, and hastily calling a meeting of the Executive, he told them plainly that the miners meant “business,” and that, if they came up, they would not stand in the street to be shot down by Slade’s friends and that they would take him and hang him. The meeting was small, as the Virginia men were loath to act at all. This momentous announcement of the feeling of. the Lower Town was made to a cluster of men, who were deliberating behind a wagon, at the rear of a store on Main street, where the Ohlinghouse stone building now stands.

The Committee were most unwilling to proceed to extremities. All the duty they had ever performed seemed as nothing to the task before them; but they had to decide, and that quickly. It was finally agreed that if the whole body of the miners were of the opinion that he should be hanged, the Committee left it in their hands to deal with him. Off, at hot speed, rode the leader of the Nevada men to join his command.

Slade had found out what was intended, and the news sobered him instantly. He went into P. S. Pfout’s store, where Davis was, and apologized for his conduct, saying that he would take it all back.

The head of the column now wheeled into Wallace street and marched up at quick time. Halting in front of the store, the executive officer of the Committee stepped forward and arrested Slade, who was at once informed of his doom, and inquiry was made as to whether he had any business to settle. Several parties. spoke to him on the subject; but to all such inquiries he turned a deaf ear, being entirely absorbed in the terrifying reflections on his own awful position. He never ceased his entreaties for life, and to see his dear wife. The unfortunate lady referred to, between whom and Slade there existed a warm affection, was at this time living at their ranch on the Madison. She was possessed. of considerable personal attractions; tall, well-formed, of graceful carriage, pleasing manners, and was, withal, an accomplished horsewoman.

A messenger from Slade rode at full speed to inform her of her husband’s arrest. In an instant she was in the saddle, and with all the energy that love and despair could lend to an ardent temperament and a strong physique, she urged her fleet charger over the twelve miles of rough and rocky ground that intervened between her and the object of her passionate devotion.

Meanwhile a party of volunteers had made the necessary preparations for the execution, in the valley traversed by the branch. beneath the site of Payout’s and Russell’s stone building there was a corral, the gate-posts of which were strong and high. Across the top was laid a beam, to which the rope was fastened, and a dry-goods box served for the platform. To this place Slade was marched, surrounded by a guard, composing the best-armed and most numerous force that has ever appeared in Montana Territory.

The doomed man had so exhausted himself by tears, prayers, and lamentations, that he had scarcely strength left to stand under the fatal beam. He repeatedly exclaimed. ‘’My God! my God! must I die”: Oh, my dear wife!”

On the return of the fatigue party, they encountered some friends of Slade, staunch and reliable citizens and members of the Committee, but who were personally attached to the condemned.

On hearing of his sentence; one of them, a stout-hearted man,, pulled out his handkerchief and walked away, weeping like a child. Slade still begged to see his wife most piteously, and it seemed hard to deny his request; but the bloody consequences that were sure to follow the inevitable attempt at a rescue, that her presence and entreaties would have certainly incited, forbade the granting of his request. Several gentlemen were sent for to see him in his last moments, one of whom (Judge Davis) made a short address to the people; but in such low tones as to be inaudible, save to a few in his immediate vicinity. One of his friends, after exhausting his powers of entreaty, threw off his coat and declared that the prisoner could not be hanged until he himself was killed. A hundred guns were instantly leveled at him; whereupon he turned and fled; but, being brought back, he was compelled to resume his coat, and to give a promise of future peacable demeanor.

Scarcely a leading man in Virginia could be found, though numbers of the citizens joined the ranks of the guard when the arrest was made. All lamented the stern necessity which dictated the execution.

Everything being ready the command was given. “Men, do you duty,” and the box being instantly slipped from beneath his feet, he died almost instantaneously.

The body was cut down and carried to the Virginia Hotel, where, in a darkened room, it was scarcely laid out, when the unfortunate and betrayed companion of the deceased arrived, at headlong speed, to find that all was over, and that she was a widow. Her grief and heart-piercing cries were terrible evidences of the depth of her attachment for her lost husband, and a considerable period elapsed before she could regain the command of her excited feelings.

J. A. Slade was, during his connection with the Overland Stage Company, frequently involved in quarrels which terminated fatally for his antagonists. The first and most memorable of these was his encounter with Jules, a station keeper at Julesburg, on the Platte River. Between the inhabitants, the emigrants and the stage people, there was a constant feud, arising from quarrels about missing stock, alleged to have been stolen by the settlers, which constantly resulted in personal difficulties such as beating, shooting, stabbing, etc., and it was from this cause that Slade became involved in a transaction which has become inseparably associated with his name, and which has given a coloring and tone to all descriptions of him, from the date of the occurrence to the present day.

There have been so many versions of the affair, all of them differing more or less in important particulars, that it has seemed impossible to get at the exact truth; but the following account may be relied on as substantially correct:

From overlanders and dwellers on the road we learn that Jules was himself a lawless aud tyrranical man, taking such liberties with the coach stock and carrying matters with so high a hand that the company determined on giving the agency of the division to J. A. Slade. In a business point of view, they were correct in their selection. The coach went through at all hazards. It is not to be supposed that Jules would submit to the authority of a newcomer, or, indeed, of any man that he could intimidate; and a very limited intercourse was sufficient to increase the mutual dislike of the parties, so far as to occasion an open rupture and bloodshed. Slade, it is said, had employed a man discharged by Jules, which irritated the latter considerably; but the overt act that brought matters to a crisis was the recovery by Slade of a team “sequestered” by Jules. Some state that there had been a previous altercation between the two; but, whether this be true or not, it appears certain that on the arrival of the coach, with Slade as a passenger, Jules determined to arrest the team, then and there; and that, finding Slade was equally determined on putting them through, a few expletives were exchanged, and Jules fired his gun, loaded with buckshot, at Slade, who was unarmed at the time, wounding him severely. At his death, Slade carried several of these shot in his body. Slade went down the road, till he recovered of his wound. Jules left the place, and in his travels never failed to let everybody know that he would kill Slade, who, on his part, was not backward in reciprocating such promises. At last, Slade got well, and shortly after was informed that his enemy had been “corralled by the boys,” whereupon he went to the place designated, and, tying him fast, shot him to death by degrees. He also cut off his ears, and carried them in his vest pocket for a long time.

One man declares that Slade went up to the ranch where he had heard that Jules was and, “getting the drop on him,” that, is to say, covering him with his pistol before he was ready to defend himself, he said, “Jules, I am going to kill you;” to which the other replied, “Well, I suppose I am gone up; you’ve got me now;” and that Slade immediately opened fire and killed him with his revolver.

The first story is the one almost universally believed in the West, and the act is considered entirely justifiable by the wild Indian fighters of the frontier. Had he simply killed Jules, he would have been justified by the accepted Western law of retaliation. The prolonged agony and mutilation of his enemy, however, admit of no excuse.

While on the road Slade ruled supreme. He would ride down to the station, get into a quarrel, turn the house out of windows, and maltreat the occupants most cruelly. The unfortunates had no means of redress, and were compelled to recuperate as best they could. On one of these occasions, it is said, he killed the father of the fine little half-breed boy, Jemmy, whom he adopted, and who lived with his widow atter his execution. He was a gentle, well-behaved child, remarkable for his beautiful, soft black eyes, and for his polite address.

Sometimes Slade acted as a lyncher. On one occasion, some emigrants had their stock either lost or stolen, and told Slade, who happened to visit their camp. He rode with a single companion, to a ranch, the owners of which he suspected, and opening the door, commenced firing at them, killing three and wounding the fourth.

As for minor quarrels and shootings, it is absolutely certain that a minute history of Slade’s life would be one long record of such practices. He was feared a great deal more, generally, than the Almighty, from Kearney, west. There was, it seems, something in his bold reckless, lavish generosity, and firm attachment to his friends, whose quarrel he would back, everywhere and at any time, that endeared him to the wild denizens of the prairie, and this personal attachment it is that has cast a veil over his faults, so dark that his friends could never see his real character, or believe their idol to be a blood-stained desperado.

Stories of his hanging men, and of innumerable assaults, shootings, stabbings and beatings, in which he was a principal actor, form part of the legends of the stage line; nevertheless, such is the veneration still cherished for him by many of the old stagers, that any insult offered to his memory would be fearfully and quickly avenged. Whatever he did to others, he was their friend, they say; and so they will say and feel till the tomb closes over the last of his old friends and comrades of the Overland.

It should be stated that Slade was, at the time of his coming West, a fugitive from justice in Illinois, where he killed a man with whom he had been quarreling. Finding his antagonist to be more than his match, he ran away from him, and, in his flight, picking up a stone, he threw it with such deadly aim and violence that it penetrated the skull of his pursuer, over the eye, and killed him. Johnson, the Sheriff, who pursued him for nearly four hundred miles, was in Virginia City not long since, as we have been informed by persons who knew him well.

Such was Captain J. A. Slade, the idol of his followers, the terror of his enemies and of all that were not within the charmed circle of his dependents. In him, generosity and destructiveness, brutal lawlessness and courteous kindness, firm friendship and volcanic outbreaks of fury, were so mingled that he seems like one born out of date. He should have lived in feudal times, and have been the comrade of the Front de Boeuffs, De Lacys, and Rois Guilberts, of days almost forgotten. In modern times, he stands nearly alone.

The execution of Slade had a most wonderful effect upon society. Henceforth, all knew that no one man could domineer or rule over the community. Reason and civilization then drove brute force from Montana.

One of his principal friends wisely absconded, and so escaped sharing his fate, which would have been a thing almost certain had he remained.

It has often been asked why Slade’s friends were permitted to go Scot free, seeing that they accompanied him in all his “raids,” and both shared and defended his wild and lawless exploits. The answer is very simple. The Vigilantes deplored the sad but imperative necessity for the making of one example. That, they knew, would be sufficient. They were right in their judgment, and immovable in their purpose. Could it but be made known how many lives were at their mercy, society would wonder at the moderation that ruled in their counsels. Necessity was the arbiter of these men’s fate. When the stern Goddess spoke not, the doom was unpronounced, and the criminal remained at large. They acted for the public good, and when examples were made, it was because the safety of the community demanded a warning to the lawless and the desperate, that might neither be despised nor soon forgotten.

The execution of the road agents of Plummer’s gang was the result of the popular verdict and judgment against robbers and murderers. The death of Slade was the protest of society on behalf of social order and the rights of man.

Posted by Michael L Umphrey on 06/21 at 06:14 AM
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2007 Montana Heritage Project
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