Custer's Trials: A Life on the Frontier of a New America

by Stiles, T. J.

  In 1885 Harper and Brothers published her book, “Boots and Saddles,” or Life in Dakota with General Custer. Written with the self-deprecating, feminine charm she had practiced over the years, it narrated her last years with Armstrong. She wrote with skill, evoking the drama of a blizzard or a fire, paying particular attention to their domestic existence. The press liked it, and so did readers. Ironies mushroomed around her germinating career: Her husband’s death freed her to become a public figure in her own right—freed her to be an author—yet her husband remained her main subject. She started to write for newspapers, and planned another autobiographical volume. Her return to her past led her to seek out Eliza Brown (now Davison) and mail her a copy of her book.29

  In the fall of 1886, Eliza came to see Libbie in New York. Together the two women peered into history, and into the future that was emerging in Manhattan. At Eliza’s insistence, they went to see the Fifth Avenue Hotel. She recalled how Armstrong had taken them all there. Libbie wrote, “We went through the halls and drawing-rooms, narrowly watched by the major-domo, who stands guard over tramps”—and, she might have added, over well-dressed black visitors. They visited the Brooklyn Bridge, the newly erected Statue of Liberty, the elevated railroad. Eliza attended Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show—without Libbie—and called on the star himself with Libbie’s card to introduce herself. “They had twenty subjects in common; for Eliza, in her way, was as deserving of praise as was the courageous Cody,” Libbie wrote.

  The two women, white and black, walked together like equals through the streets of New York. “Miss Libbie, you don’t take notice…how the folks does stare at us,” Eliza commented, as Libbie recalled. “But I see ’em a-gazin’, and I can see ’em a-ponderin’ and sayin’ to theirsels’, ‘Well, I do declare! That’s a lady, there ain’t no manner of doubt. She’s one of the bong tong. But whatever she’s a-doin’ with that old scrub nigger, I can’t make out.’ ”

  In Libbie’s next memoir, Tenting on the Plains, she wrote of Eliza’s visit to New York, how they reminisced about their dramatic history and the long-lost Armstrong. Libbie described her “delight” at going out with Eliza, at “her unique criticisms” and “manner in which she brought back our past.” But she did not reflect on how different it all looked to Eliza. Her former servant did not characterize herself as an “old scrub nigger,” but rather described how white people saw her, even though she dressed as the wife of a prominent lawyer. Libbie heard it as praise for herself for indulging a social inferior, but Eliza actually commented on the shock of white Manhattanites at a black woman asserting her equality with a white woman.

  Graying, ailing, and overweight, Eliza understood better than Libbie how the world had changed. In many ways, she better understood the past as well. Eliza’s memories helped make Tenting on the Plains Libbie’s most vivid and compelling book (published in 1887, followed by Following the Guidon in 1890). The young black woman emerges as a central character in that volume, vivid, resourceful, and admirable; yet Libbie’s racial condescension starkly colors the account. At times she veers from respect for Eliza to undermining or even scorning her, as if she were still struggling with her for domestic power, retroactively extracting a small degree of literary revenge for how Eliza outmaneuvered her in life. The book offers a glimpse of the America Brown knew, but no more. Most of it remained invisible to Libbie. Eliza gave her a subtle reminder in New York, saying, “I done took the colored part of town fo’ I come; the white folks ain’t seen what I has.” She spoke a universal truth. The white folks never knew what they were missing.

  And yet, in strolls down Broadway and Fifth Avenue, a decade after Armstrong’s death, the joy of reunion dominated their time together. They had been through so much; they had lost so much. Eliza remembered little Johnny Cisco, the homeless white boy adopted by Custer as his informal valet during the Civil War; he had resurfaced in Kansas and obtained a job in the express business with Custer’s help, only to die in the wilderness. His loss devastated Eliza, who carried his battered suitcase long afterward. But if their reunion called up their ghosts, it dispelled them as well. Eliza exclaimed, “Oh, what a good time me and you is having, Miss Libbie, and how I will ’stonish them people at home!”30

  Eliza Brown Davison returned to Ohio, and Elizabeth Bacon Custer remained in New York. She became the archetype of the professional widow, never remarrying, fighting to the end to maintain an idealized public image of her late husband. He had put her through so much conflict and hardship, yet he had loved her fiercely. He had lifted her out of the ordinary, and she never returned. But she sustained herself with her own intelligence and effort. She prospered with her writings and lectures about military families on the Western frontier. She invested wisely in real estate in the developing Westchester suburb of Bronxville. Her biographer Shirley Leckie observes that she managed her money far better than her father or husband ever had. She died on April 4, 1933, on Park Avenue.31

  It’s fitting that she lived out her life in New York. When given a choice, Custer had always picked the footlights over a campfire, Broadway over the open plains, much as he sincerely loved the latter. Young men might go West, but Manhattan forged the corporate, technological future. Its vitality and promise drew Custer to it, yet he never mastered it. His sudden, offstage ending left him suspended forever between East and West, past and future, to be misremembered as needed by each new generation.

  * * *

  *1 Current spelling collapses the last two words in the name into one, “Little Bighorn.” It will appear this way except in quotations of primary sources.

  Acknowledgments

  IN MY LAST BOOK, I wrote that I believed in researching in terror, writing with confidence, and publishing with humility. That was in a work about a subject who left behind no collection of papers and had not received a serious biography in nearly seventy years. Custer, on the other hand, is one of the best-documented and most-discussed individuals of the nineteenth century. In addition to the mountain ranges of papers in the public archives, unknown masses lurk in private hands, inaccessible to researchers. That makes for a lot of terror, for I did not see every source. I’ve done my best to write a strong, confident narrative, but Custer makes humility imperative. How many gifted writers and scholars have told his story, in pieces or in full? How many researchers know the most minute details and obscure documents? Authors inevitably make mistakes; with this subject, an unusually large number of readers will notice them. I have found some sources and stories that should be new to most people familiar with this subject, but I would not dare say all. Trying to say something truly original about Custer is rather like trying to cross the main floor of Grand Central Terminal by walking only where no one has stepped before. The freshness of this work ultimately must be found in the cumulative effect—the change in emphasis and perspective—rather than undiscovered facts or sources.

  First I must thank the John Simon Guggenheim Memorial Foundation for the generous support of a fellowship that contributed greatly to my ability to complete this book. My thanks to Ethan Nosowsky of Graywolf Press for his encouragement to apply one more time. I offer my gratitude to the Pulitzer Prize Board and the National Book Foundation for the generous awards that came with the recognition given to my last book, which helped to sustain me while working on this one.

  I have benefited from the advice and friendship of some of the finest authorities not only on George Armstrong Custer, but on American history. I must thank the historian Shirley Leckie first. As I worked on my book, poring over primary sources, my admiration for her biography of Elizabeth Bacon Custer only grew. She graciously—and I do mean graciously—read and commented on my unedited, overlarge chapters as I wrote them. With similar generosity, Heather Cox Richardson read chapters that I lobbed at her, even though she was finishing a book of her own, and offered detailed feedback that improved the manuscript tremendously. The great Robert Utley walked me through some of the issues of Custeriana, shared notes and sources w
ith me, and reviewed the manuscript, offering very helpful suggestions. Mr. Utley has created a profoundly important body of work on the nineteenth-century West, and deserves his status as the most sensible and best-informed scholar of Custer and the history surrounding his frontier career. I find it very difficult to improve upon his characterization of Custer’s personality and actions. Paul Hutton, Andrew Graybill, and Robert Bonner also generously read the manuscript and offered suggestions. In addition, Maury Klein and Christopher Phillips offered advice on specific chapters. In correspondence or conversation, Nancy Isenberg and Drew Gilpin Faust suggested reading and avenues to explore. I am grateful to them all.

  I believe in conducting research myself, but for a few missions that just weren’t cost-effective for me to execute personally, I received some very professional assistance from Carrie Millington and Marie Killmond. Thanks to all the archivists and librarians who supported my research, including those at the Library of Congress, National Archives, the United States Military Academy, the New York Public Library, Brigham Young University, the Virginia Historical Society, the State Historical Society of Iowa, the State Historical Society of Kansas, the Minnesota Historical Society, the Newberry Library, the Monroe County Historical Museum and Archives, the Monroe County Library System, the Denver Public Library, the San Francisco Public Library, the Berkeley Public Library, the Bancroft Library of the University of California, Berkeley, the Old Records Division of the New York County Clerk’s Office, and the U.S. Army Military History Institute in Carlisle, Pennsylvania.

  Of the many archivists and librarians who helped me, a few deserve mention by name. David Ferriero, Archivist of the United States, has been a friend since his days at the New York Public Library; he pointed me to a few key professionals in his organization who were tremendously helpful, including Trevor Plante. Richard L. Baker, senior technical information specialist at the U.S. Army Military History Institute, went far out of his way to help me obtain copies of the Jacob Greene papers, still undergoing processing. Christine Bradley of Clear Creek County, Colorado, helped me find that there was nothing to find in her county’s legal records—a critical if unsung part of the research process. Chris Kull at the Monroe County Historical Museum and Archives and Charmaine Wawrzyniec of the Monroe County Library System in Monroe, Michigan, both provided tremendous assistance, as did Cindy Hagen of the National Park Service. And William Stingone, the Charles J. Liebman Curator of Manuscripts at the New York Public Library, once again proved enormously helpful in my research.

  Thanks also to the members of the San Francisco Writers Grotto, a marvelous community where I maintained an office for part of the time I spent writing this book, and where I have found friendship, advice, and support. Thanks also to Jane Ganahl and Jack Boulware and the volunteers of Litquake.

  I am extremely fortunate to have a long-standing relationship with one of the best editors in the business, at a publishing house committed to literary values. The brilliant Jonathan Segal took a chance on my first book, Jesse James: Last Rebel of the Civil War, some fifteen years ago, and we have worked together ever since. The faults of this book are my own, but its strengths owe a great deal to his literary guidance, as well as his support during the long process of research and writing. I owe him a great debt. My thanks to the staff of Alfred A. Knopf and Vintage, who have developed and supported my work so effectively. There is a lot of blather about how publishers are unnecessary these days; obviously the people making these arguments were never published by Knopf and Vintage. Few know how much these unrecognized professionals add to the value of a finished book. I also thank my agent, Jill Grinberg, a friend and effective advocate who has worked to advance my writing career from its beginning.

  I have been very fortunate to serve on the board of the Authors Guild, and I wish to thank my fellow board members, President Roxana Robinson, former president Scott Turow, general counsel Jan Constantine, former executive director Paul Aiken, the new executive director Mary Rasenberger, and most of all my fellow rank-and-file members of the guild for their advocacy on behalf of authors and books.

  My heartfelt gratitude goes to my family, particularly my wife, Jessica, my son, Dillon, and my daughter, Sasha, all three smart as hell, funny, and loving. They put up with my crazy schedule and extensive travel, and I am grateful. Thanks too to my parents, Dr. Cliff and Carol Stiles, who have always encouraged me to follow my dreams but not to slack off while I was at it. My mother-in-law, Susan McKenna, provided love and care for my children when Jessica and I had to be away. So did my father-in-law, Laurence Frank, who has been tremendously supportive. Thanks to them and all my extended family.

  As I started to write this final paragraph, I learned that one of my mentors had just passed away. Richard Maxwell Brown died on September 22, 2014, at the age of eighty-seven. I read his work as a young employee of Oxford University Press, where I had landed, directionless, after abandoning an academic career amid personal turmoil. His systematic approach to violence in American history, particularly in the nineteenth-century West, restored my intellectual curiosity and eagerness to write history. He showed me that celebrated people and events can be taken seriously without merely debunking them—that new meaning and importance can be found in them, without falling into the condescension that scholars too often feel for all that is popular. That approach has driven all of my work. Professor Brown’s enthusiastic support for the publication of my first book proved crucial to my getting my start as a biographer. His generosity never flagged in the years since; it kept me going through some difficult times. As important as he was to me as an intellectual and professional mentor, it was his decency and humanity that had the most profound impact on me. It was an honor simply to know him.

  Notes

  ABBREVIATIONS

  B&L 1, 2, 3, 4 Robert Underwood Johnson and Clarence Clough Buel, eds., Battles and Leaders of the Civil War, vols. 1–4 (New York: Century Company, 1884–88).

  Barnett Louise Barnett, Touched by Fire: The Life, Death, and Mythic Afterlife of George Armstrong Custer (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2006 [orig. pub. 1996]).

  Coffman Edward M. Coffman, The Old Army: A Portrait of the American Army in Peacetime, 1784–1898 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1986).

  CRM George Armstrong Custer Reference Microfilm, National Archives, Washington, D.C.

  Cullum 1, 2, 3 George W. Cullum, Biographical Register of the Officers and Graduates of the United States Military Academy at West Point, N.Y., vols. 1–3 (New York: D. Van Nostrand, 1868–1891).

  DSB Daniel S. Bacon

  EBC Elizabeth Bacon Custer

  EBC, Boots and Saddles Elizabeth B. Custer, “Boots and Saddles,” or Life in Dakota with General Custer (New York: Harper and Brothers, 1885).

  EBC, Following the Guidon Elizabeth B. Custer, Following the Guidon (New York: Harper and Brothers, 1890).

  EBC, Tenting on the Plains Elizabeth B. Custer, Tenting on the Plains, or General Custer in Kansas and Texas (New York: Harper and Brothers, 1887).

  Foner Eric Foner, Reconstruction: America’s Unfinished Revolution, 1863–1877 (New York: Harper and Row, 1988).

  Frost, General Custer’s Libbie Lawrence A. Frost, General Custer’s Libbie (Seattle: Superior Publishing, 1976).

  GAC George Armstrong Custer

  GBM George Brinton McClellan

  HED House of Representatives Executive Document

  HR House of Representatives Report

  LAFCC Dr. Lawrence A. Frost Collection of Custeriana, Monroe County Historical Museum Archives, Monroe, Mich.

  LAR Lydia Ann Kirkpatrick Reed

  LBH Elizabeth Bacon Custer Collection, Little Bighorn National Battlefield, Microfilm: Roll 1, Elizabeth B. Custer Correspondence, George A. Custer Correspondence; Roll 2, Other Sources: Correspondence, Orders, Miscellaneous Documents; Roll 4, Elizabeth B. Custer Miscellaneous Manuscripts and Notes; Roll 5, Elizabeth B. Custer Literary Manuscripts and Notes; Roll 6, Broadsides, Clippings, and Memora
bilia

  LOC Manuscripts Division, Library of Congress, Washington, D.C.

  Leckie Shirley A. Leckie, Elizabeth Bacon Custer and the Making of a Myth (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1993).

  McPherson James M. McPherson, Battle Cry of Freedom: The Civil War Era (New York: Oxford University Press, 1988).

  MCHMA Monroe County Historical Museum and Archives, Monroe, Mich.

  MCLS Monroe County Library System, Monroe, Mich.

  Merington Marguerite Merington, The Custer Story: The Life and Intimate Letters of General George A. Custer and His Wife Elizabeth (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1987 [orig. pub. 1950]).

  MMP Marguerite Merington Papers, Manuscripts and Archives Division, New York Public Library, Astor, Lenox, and Tilden Foundations

  Monaghan Jay Monaghan, Custer: The Life of General George Armstrong Custer (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1971 [orig. pub. 1959]).

  NA National Archives, Washington, D.C.

  NA II National Archives, College Park, Md.

  OR The War of the Rebellion: A Compilation of the Official Records of the Union and Confederate Armies (Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1880–1901).

  PHS Philip H. Sheridan

  Reynolds Arlene Reynolds, ed., The Civil War Memories of Elizabeth Bacon Custer: Reconstructed from Her Diaries and Notes (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1994).

  SED Senate Executive Document

  SR Senate Report

  Stiles, First Tycoon T. J. Stiles, The First Tycoon: The Epic Life of Cornelius Vanderbilt (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2009).