John Charles Fremont and the exploration of the American West - USA Yesterday - Biography

Gerald F. Kreyche

ONE OF THE NEARLY forgotten men who helped make Manifest Destiny a reality in the 19th-century American West was John Charles Fremont. Throughout his time on Earth, he alternately was regarded as a hero and a goat. a braggart and a humble man. His life began hi scandal and poverty, but he acquired fame mad fortune, only to lose both--though not until he had experienced an incredible existence of adventure and service to the fledgling nation.

A friend of powerful people and illiterate mountain men and Indians, he was a paradox of gentility and wilderness-toughness. As an explorer, general, politician, idealist, and man of action, Fremont's legacy deserves renewed recognition.

Fremont was born in Savannah, Ga., in 1813, the illegitimate son of Anne Beverley Whiting. She ran away flora a pressured marriage of convenience to elderly Major John Pryor and fell in love with a Frenchman named Jean Charles Fremon, who contemporary research suggests was a small-time politician from Quebec, Canada. Fremon possessed a number of skills, and he taught French at the esteemed William and Mary College and later at an exclusive school in Richmond, Va. He engaged in a series of secret trysts with Whiting and, when rumors of her infidelity turned into public facts, Fremon was forced to resign. Following an own confrontation with Pryor, the couple ran away together, eventually winding up in Savannah, where Charles was born. Although Anne's family credentials went back to the American Revolution, she was virtually ostracized by the class-conscious southern society. She didn't marry Fremon until Pryor died. The Fremons moved to Nashville. Tenn., where the infant Charles narrowly missed death flora a stray bullet during a duel--"an affair of honor" between future Pres. Andrew Jackson and the brother of politician Thomas Hart Benton.

After this, the family moved to Norfolk, "Va., and, with the death of Pryor, Jean and Anne were married by a Catholic priest. Jean died in 1838, and Anne, now the mother of three children, moved to Charleston, S.C., where the widow's family fortune changed--at least in regard to the young John Charles Fremon.

The teenager John found it easy to make friends from all walks of life, who couldn't help but be charmed by the handsome youth whose inchoate talents were becoming obvious. His luck and personality were such that nearly everyone he met wanted to sponsor him to higher things. At an early age, he got a job clerking at a law firm and the owner generously helped John take studies at a first rate prep scherzi, after which he entered the College of Charleston. A good linguist, John combined a background in the classics with strong interests in mathematics astronomy, and engineering. On the verge of graduation, however, he lost interest in school and was ousted from the college. (Later in life, he returned to get his degree.)

He obtained a teaching position, and good fortune found him invited to a series of breakfast meetings with Joel Poinsett, at that time U.S. Ambassador to Mexico. It is ironic that the latter is remembered mostly for bringing iron the U.S. some colorful Mexican plants that became known as pointsettias. In fact, Poinsett, a confidant of presidents, was instrumental in winning the Seminole Wars and was the founder of the Institute for Promotion of Science.

These tete-a-tetes, to which others who also showed promise were invited, opened the door to Fremon's career opportunities. Poinsett helped Fremon secure a job teaching mathematics to sailors aboard the Navy ship, Natchez, which made a two-year voyage around South America. Upon Fremon's return, Poinsett helped him obtain a position connected with two survey trips to wilderness areas led by a West Point captain. The latter took place in Cherokee country, acquainting Fremon with that "civilized" tribe. A prodigious worker and a fast learner. Fremon gained valuable field experience and fell in love with the wilderness. Meanwhile, Poinsett became Secretary of War and exercised even more influence on Fremont's future.

Fremon's next break came when he received a second lieutenant's commission in the Army's Corps of Topographical Engineers, an elite group of highly educated scientists, and he became an assistant to the world-famous scientist-cartographer Joseph Nicollet. A French Legion of Honor winner, Nicollet was assigned to survey the area between Ft. Snelling on the Mississippi River and what today is Pipestone National Monument in southwestern Minnesota.

Fremon was an all-around "gofer," but also a substantial help to Nicollet in producing an excellent map of that area. (Mention should be made that when Job became an adult he added an accent mark over the "e" in Ins name as well as me letter "t" to end it. Henceforth, he was known as John Charles Fremont.)

Through his connection with Nicollet, John met many famous movers and shakers, including Benton, the senior senator from Missouri. The latter's passion was to serve as an apostle for opening up the American West, so that the incipient western movement would make this a two-ocean country. St. Louis "already was the jumping-off point for the fur trade and mountain men, as, earlier, explorers Meriwether Lewis and William Clark made that vicinity their point of departure for their expedition to the Pacific Northwest.

When Fremont met the Senator, he was introduced to the politician's 15-year-old daughter, Jessie. The two fell in love and a scant two years later eloped. Fremont was 28, but the 17-year-old was mature beyond her years and, like her father, had an iron will. She became a gifted writer as well. The elopement was carried off with the help of Sen. J.J. Crittenden's wife. Besides making other arrangements in secret, she obtained a Catholic priest to perform the clandestine ceremony.

Jessie, a favorite of her father and a great help to him in his office, infuriated the Senator with her marriage, but, being a realist, he resolved to make the most of the situation and use his son-in-law to further his own dreams of westward expansion. Mrs. Benton was no less miffed by her daughter's elopement, as the Senator's wife had aspirations of her daughter becoming the wife of a president.

Although Fremont already was well-known in Washington, the alliance with the Senator gave him further prominence, and his career was riding high. Indeed, together with Nicollet, Fremont participated in a consultation with Pres Martin Van Buren.

A second expedition with Nicollet seasoned the young Fremont in map-making and survey work, and in gathering botanical specimens. He was ready to go out on his own and was given the assignment to survey the Platte River that empties into the Missouri River at Omaha, Neb., and travel as far as the Sweetwater River in Wyoming. The Platte often was described as a mile wide, an inch deep, too thin to plow, and too thick to drink The Sweetwater obtained its name because it was fresh and not alkaline.

By 1842, the Oregon Trail had opened up and beckoned would-be settlers to rich farmlands. This emigration had been made possible by the discovery of South Pass in south-central Wyoming, which permitted wagon travel and, hence, families to cross the Continental Divide. Geographical and topological details about this part of the country were urgently needed as westward fever caught the nation.

Fremont gathered his supplies which included all sorts of scientific equipment and a rubber boat made especially for the expedition. The latter proved very useful in conveying men and supplies across the spring-swollen rivers. His luck running high, the young lieutenant also picked up two of the famous guides of the time, Kit Carson and Lucien Maxwell, who were familiar with the montane area and its river tributaries. They and the explorer thus began a lifelong friendship.

Also in the entourage were Jessie's 12-year-old brother Randolf, as well as a 19-year-old cousin. A poverty-stricken German cartographer, Charles Preuss, begged to go along, and Fremont reluctantly agreed. Preuss' excellence in sketching and map-making more than made up for his pessimism and crabbiness on this and a subsequent expedition.

During the trek west, the group engaged in buffalo hunting, collected numerous plant specimens, and met Indians, whom they treated benignly. All in all, good fortune attended this expedition. Dropping off his two young charges at Ft, Laramie, Fremont then asked if anybody wanted to quit at this point. Only one did, which demonstrates the incredible loyalty Fremont earned from his men.

This first expedition made as its terminus the storied Wind River Mountains in present-day northwestern Wyoming, a favorite but formidable place for the beaver men over the previous two decades. Several trapper rendezvous were held in this vicinity. Fremont climbed what was a particularly prominent peak, mistakenly thinking it was the highest in the nation (it was 12,237 feet) and Fremont Peak bears his name today.

Once back in St. Louis, the explorer wrote up his report, which included maps drawn by Preuss. The maps were incredibly accurate and were to replace the previous ones that had egregious errors. Fremont dictated notes to Jessie, his indispensable chief helper, and sent the report to Congress. (Jessie had her hands lull as she just had given birth to a daughter, the Fremonts' first child.) Unlike the legalese of other Congressional documents, one of the merits of the report was the readability of its prose. This was especially helpful to those planning to journey to the Far West. Although Jessie's writing talents are evident, Fremont also wrote well. The document read like an adventure story and, in perusing it, many a reader traveled west vicariously. Congress liked it, too, and an extra 1,000 copies were published. The entire Corps gloried in it, and the publicity made funding for future projects less formidable.

The next year, Fremont was pressed into another trip, this time to go all the way to Walla Walla, just 40 miles east of the bend of the Columbia River and part of the Oregonland. Indeed, Fremont and some of his men went even farther west to the Hudson Bay outpost of Ft. Vancouver, opposite today's Portland, Ore. The explorer characteristically always "went that extra mile," although sometimes it got him into trouble. Previously, Commander Charles Wilkes had produced a survey with maps covering the northern Pacific coast to Walla Walla. Together with Fremont's map, this section of the country now became accurately charted from St. Louis to the Pacific.

The expedition's leader saw to it that his 25 men were exceedingly well-armed and even took a howitzer with him--this under questionable authorization. Army brass wondered why such an instrument of war was necessary for only an "exploratory" expedition. Additionally, officials felt huffy that they were not fully consulted on the matter and sent a message to Fremont to return and explain this "pilferage," but the order got to Fremont's group too late. Some historians say its tardiness was due in part to interference by the lieutenant's backers. The Army, however, does not forget what it regards as transgressions by junior officers, and Fremont was to pay dearly for tiffs later in his career.

Fremont's luck continued to hold, as, besides rehiring Kit Carson, he was able to obtain the services of another famed mountain man, Tom "Broken Hand" Fitzpatrick, to serve as guide. Along the way, another ex-trapper, Alexis Godey, a friend of Carson, joined the expedition. Fremont regarded him as fully the equal of Carson, although another hire, Basil Lajeunesse, certainly came close to both. Fremont, thus, had some of the most knowledgeable guides in the West. Their availability was due to the petering out of the beaver fur trade, whose peak years were 1825-40.

On the way, the expedition's supplies ran short, as horses and mules were stolen or simply worn out. This always necessitated side trips to various trading posts for provisions. Bent's Fort was one, situated on the Arkansas River border with Mexico. Tans, just northeast of Santa Fe, was another, as were Ft. Laramie and Ft. Hall, the latter near present-day Pocatello, Idaho.

On this trip, Fremont wanted to see the Great Salt Lake and, along with a reduced party, reconnoitered the area. After some harrowing experiences, the party was glad to head back to meet the others at Ft. Hall. The rendezvous by all members of the party was a welcome one, but at this juncture, 11 members were cut from the group. Expenses were one reason; another was that it would be easier for a smaller party to cross the looming mountains to their west. Moving ever westward, the more-compact passed traversed the lava beds of Idaho, passed Shoshone and American Falls, and headed for Ft. Boise, an other Hudson Bay Post. (Those who have visited Craters of the Moon National Monument in Idaho can appreciate how different this landscape was from that encountered elsewhere on their journey.)

Fremont's group noted the incredible contrast of the Grand Ronde Valley and, as always, analyzed rich soil samples. Next they came to "Mission" country, opened by Methodists and Presbyterians. The expedition headed directly for the Walla Walla Presbyterian Mission, founded by a New York physician Marcus Whitman. At this remote outpost, the doctor and his young wife, Narcissa, laugh the Bible and farming to the Cayuse Indians, while practicing medicine among them.

Whitman was away when the expedition arrived there, but Fremont was able to procure some potatoes and other vegetables Here they met Jesse Applegate of Oregon Trail fame and pumped him for any information about the land. (Tragedy struck the Mission a few years later when Narcissa's two-year-old baby drowned and the doctor and his wife subsequently were killed by the Cayuse.)

Fremont's group headed for The Dalles, a mission established in 1834 by Jason Lee The Dalles were powerful waterfalls of the Columbia River that required a portage. From there, Fremont followed the Columbia River to Ft. Vancouver, the major Hudson Bay Post in the Oregonland. Its chief factor, John McLaughlin, was a giant of a man, admiringly called by one historian the "Emperor of the North." Yet, if McLaughlin was an emperor, he was a benign one, for he helped American immigrants by lending them planting tools and supplies, as well as serving various other needs. This didn't fit well with England's policy, and McLaughlin was reprimanded. Eventually, he became an American.

The fair treatment the Hudson Bay Company generally gave to the whites and Indians made McLaughlin well-liked and respected by "all. What he did for the emigrants, he did for Fremont as well, helping to outfit the American officer for the turnaround journey back home. He even gave the latter a letter of credit to be honored at all Hudson Bay posts.

From there, the expedition set out to circle the Great Basin where water never ran out to the seas and where rivers became "sinks," simply disappearing into the ground. One such was the Humboldt River, named by Fremont to honor Alexander von Humboldt, the great European scientist.

Well-supplied again, the expedition returned to The Dalles, where Lee asked the explorer to take two Indian proteges with him to St. Louis. The group headed south along the east side of Northern California to the vicinity of Klamath Lake, traveled down to Pyramid Lake, and then to Walker Lake. The latter is directly east of San Francisco, with a mountain range, the terrible Sierras, standing menacingly in between. Nonetheless, Fremont was determined to cross them and go to John Sutter's fort.

Crossing the High Sierras

Most regarded it as folly for anyone to traverse those mountains in the dead of winter, but, with the help of Washoe Indian guides, the group decided to try. Their supplies were running low again and that, together with Fremont's desire to see California, was enough to attempt the ordeal. The howitzer that had been pulled across all sorts of terrain was abandoned as the group would need all their strength to cross those mighty barriers.

Snow and cold increased as they started up the mountains. Paths had to be beaten for the animals, and that was tiring work as the altitude increased each step of the way. They came to the Truckee River where, during the winter of 1846-47, the Donner party would meet disaster. Fremont and a few of his guides went ahead of the group and were rewarded with a view of the still-distant, sundrenched Sacramento Valley. Reporting back to the others, the cheering news motivated them to continue on at all costs. The advance party did make it to Sutter's Fort, and help was sent immediately to Fitzpatrick and his men bringing up the rear. The mountains took a great toll on the animals, only half of them surviving. The men had been reduced to eating ants, frogs, etc.

Sutter was sympathetic to Americanos, as they, too, had revolted from an absolutistic government, and gave them considerable help when they came out west. Indeed, from 1841 to 1848, the fort was a focal point for California immigrants. Sutter greeted Fremont and extended to him the fort's usual hospitality. Fremont learned much about the current political situation in California and knew Sutter would be a worthwhile contact to keep in mind. The explorer also marveled at the natural beauty, riches, and climate of California, never even dreaming of the integral role that he eventually was to play in that land.

The expedition intended to head home via the well-used Old Spanish Trail, but needed guides to get to it. Fortunately for the party, they found such guides when needed, whether a stray vaquero, Indian, or ex-trapper. Parts of the trail were not well-marked, however, and the group, even including the generally optimistic Fremont, was worried that they might get lost in the merciless desert that adjoined it. The expedition headed home, going by way of Pahrump Valley about 50 miles south of Death Valley and through the area now known as Las Vegas. Continuing east, they camped near Mountain Meadows, where a wagon train headed by Capt. Alexander Fancher was massacred in 1857, about 20 miles west of" Cedar City in present-day Utah. Indians and Mormons took part in the grisly affair that resulted in the deaths of 120 emigrants, mostly women and children. The incident proved to be a black mark on the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. The controversy continues today, as recent excavations have uncovered the bodies of more victims.

Moving through Pueblo, they followed the trail to Bent's Fort, a sometime home base for Kit Carson and other Taos mountain men. Finally, the group made its way to St. Louis, where they arrived after their 14-month hiatus.

Jessie, ever the patient and loving wife, had no idea when her explorer-husband would be back, but each morning set the table for him should that be the day of his return. The joyous reunion of the two can only be imagined. Then came the work of publishing the findings of this most successful of Fremont's expeditions. Jessie worked on the notes for six hours a day, much of which was spent taking dictation from her husband. The report not only was factual, bat chock full of romanticism and adventure in its details of circling the great American West. Travelers, whether of the wall or armchair variety, were fascinated by it.

Congress received the voluminous document on March 1, 1845, and showed its enthusiasm by prating 10,000 copies. Abbreviated versions also were published by private firms. Carson's exploits were included, and he became a legend, with dime novels about his feats written and embellished by the lurid press.

Fremont grew even more famous than before and was promoted to Brevet Captain. The timing of the report could not have been more serendipitous, for Pres. James Polk was an expansionist mad lustfully eyed Texas California, and the Oregonland. All of this set the scenario for Fremont's next trip west.

On Feb. 12, 1845, the Army instructed him to head out again, this time supposedly to check out the Red River and the headwaters of the Arkansas River, which proved to be near present-day Leadville, Colo. All in all, the instructions were vague enough for Fremont to interpret them liberally. This he did. As Fremont saw it, he was free to explore the Cascades and the Sierras, with much of California thrown in for, good measure. That was a liberal interpretation, but it demonstrates that Fremont was a man of initiative.

Among members of this new expedition were specially tested sharpshooters. Something must have been in the back of Fremont's mind for, to be certain that he had the best riflemen he could get, he held shooting contests and rewarded the winners. The expedition was conceived as a military one and hence subject to military regulations. An entourage of 500 horses, mules, and cattle accompanied it, additionally, two more mountain guides were obtained. The mountain men were the true "pathfinders" and Fremont never claimed otherwise.

Once past Bent's Fort, they headed for the Great Salt Lake and the vast desert wasteland that had to be crossed to get to California. With much travail, they eventually wound up at Sutter's Fort again. There, they learned that California was in a state of turmoil due to disagreements between the Mexican governor, Pio Pico, stationed in the south, and the military faction headed by Gen. Jose Castro, who ruled from Monterey.

Political restlessness was in the air as Fremont roamed around, got into some Indian skirmishes, and visited the American Vice-Consul at Yerba Buena (San Francisco). They talked politics, then Fremont headed north toward Klamath Lake on the Oregon/California border. Near there, the expedition received word that Marine Lt. Archibald Gillespie had been ordered to find Fremont so as to present him with some special dispatches from Washington. Fremont set out to meet the officer and took 10 men with him, the rest remaining in camp. Gillespie was located, and the secret orders contained information about the state of war between the U.S. and Mexico.

Carson, who was with Fremont and Gillespie, recalled in his memoirs that, when the group camped, he heard the sound of an axe crushing a skull and woke up to find the Klamath Indians attacking them. Three of Fremont's men were killed, including Lajeunesse.

Fremont and his men returned to California to see how they could help the U.S. cause. He gathered volunteers with the aid of a variety of powerful men, and the fighters became known as the California Battalion. Sonoma became the flash point of war when a mountain man named Zeke Merritt initiated the Bear Flag Rebellion, taking the city and declaring California an independent republic. Fremont held a meeting with the motley group and it resulted in their signing up with his California Battalion. At this point, though, Fremont did not see his job so much as fighting Mexico, but as protecting Americans in California against the rampaging Castro.

The U.S. had a sizable naval three off the California coast under the command of an indecisive Commodore John Sloat. Although he raised the American flag at Monterey, Sloat eschewed further involvement with what was going on and turned over command to Commodore Robert E Stockton, who was a "take-charge" man and acted quickly. Los Angeles was captured by Stockton's marines and sailors, in cooperation will the California Battalion now under his command. Heady with his authority and success, Stockton promised Fremont the governorship of California. He also promoted Fremont to Lt. Colonel. The American flag now flew over California!

Fremont and his troops were sent to capture San Diego when Fremont learned that Gen. Stephen Watts Kearney was on his way to take over California. The latter's troops were followed by Col. Philip St. George Cooke with his newly enlisted Mormon Battalion. This was a group authorized by Mormon leader Brigham Young to serve in the war with Mexico. The Mormons needed money, and the U.S. needed additional troops. War sometimes makes strange bedfellows.

When Kearney arrived in California, Fremont was caught in the middle of a political and personal struggle between two ranking officers, both of whom, as well as Fremont, operated on assumptions more often than direct orders. Three thousand miles from the nation's capital, what else could they do? The first order of business was to determine who really was in charge, as both Stockton and Kearney made the claim.

Fremont tested his assumed authority by going so far as to write up and offer a treaty (a liberal one at that), which Mexican officials accepted. As supposed governor, he even bought Alcatraz Island on a personal promissory note and purchased other goods and supplies, expecting to be reimbursed. Unfortunately for Fremont, Kearney won out on the power play and asserted that he was the true governor. Fremont had backed the wrong horse and was to pay dearly. Kearney, exercising his authority, ordered the explorer to accompany him and Cooke back to Washington.

Before going on the return journey, not seeming particularly worried, Fremont purchased some land called the Mariposa Grant, about 40 miles southwest of Yosemite National Park. Later, the land proved to be a gold bonanza. When the Kearney group reached Fort Leavenworth, Fremont was informed that he officially was under arrest. This proved quite a surprise, since the noted explorer thought he should have won praise for his California activities. Instead of an accolade, he faced a court martial. The trial began on Nov. 2, 1847, in Washington, D.C.

The hearing was a cause celebre, for it reeked of bureaucratic politics of both the government and the Army against a highly popular hero. The press made the most of the controversy, favoring Fremont, but this probably only made the military court more determined to convict him. Besides, there always was resentment by West Pointers, including Kearney, who envied young non West Pointers, such as Fremont, who rose in rank too quickly. The three charges against Fremont were mutiny, disobedience, and conduct prejudicial to military discipline. Found guilty on each account, he was dismissed from the Army.

To the well-known explorer and others, the verdict was incomprehensible. (There seemed a parallel in later years when Pres. Ulysses S. Grant first refused George Armstrong Custer permission to rejoin his Seventh Cavalry on their campaign to Little Big Horn. The vociferous press was instrumental in having Grant acquiesce.)

Such was partly the case with the scientist-explorer who had won the heart of a nation. In light of Fremont's many public and famous accomplishments, the court recommended clemency and, taking this cue, Polk reinstated him. Nonetheless, Fremont's pride forced him to resign from the Army. Public sympathies were with Fremont, though, and Congress not only bailed out his debts as California "governor," but ordered 20,000 copies of his third report, the truncated Geographical Memoir upon Upper California, in Illustration of His Map of Oregon and California. The map by Preuss that accompanied the report was recognized as the best to date, and Fremont's reputation soared again. The full report was completed on June 8, 1848. The Royal Geographical Society, virtually rebuffing and flaunting the count marcial, presented Fremont with a medal. Moreover, he won praise from von Humbolt.

Almost in a spirit of "I'll show them," Fremont mounted a fourth expedition to see if he could find a suitable railroad route froth St. Louis to California that would go more southerly over the San Juan Mountains of Colorado. With Benton's help, private funding financed the venture. The explorer had his usual coterie of experienced men, including Godey. Others seeking the way to California gold joined as well. So it was off to Bent's Fort again, which they reached in the middle of November, 1848. From there, they intended to trek over the mighty San Juan Mountains in the dead of winter.

The advice of the most knowledgeable trappers was decidedly against the venture, as portents suggested it was to be a stormy winter. Even the normally fearless Fremont felt considerable trepidation, but, taking comfort in his recollection of making it through the snowy Sierras, he decided to push forward. The explorer's luck ran out on him, though, and the expedition turned into a disaster, sullying Fremont's reputation.

Bitter cold and terrible snows stopped the expedition in its tracks at 11,000 feet. Men and animals were starving, so Fremont sprit his group to get help, leaving behind those too weak to travel. He reached Tans where a rescue team was sent out. The rescue effort was nothing short of pure heroism. Godey was one of the rescuers and appeared almost superhuman in his strength and endurance. Here he was, back in the wilderness, after having just escaped the jaws of death. The searchers covered 300 miles in 20 days, saving some of those left behind. However, 10 men died. So desperate were those adventurers that they engaged in cannibalism. A recent tracing of that route revealed tree stumps 10 feet tall, an indication of how deep the snow was when the trees were cut for fires.

The ethics of Fremont leaving his disabled men have long been debated. The dictum of "Every man for himself' seems to have governed the action. Certainly that was the way some of the survivors regarded the decision, and they carried a hatred of their leader for the rest of their lives. Fundamentally, the dismal failure was due to hubris and foolhardiness on Fremont's part.

Spending a few days in recovery, Fremont and some of the men regrouped and turned south for warmer climes, eventually winding up in Los Angeles. One cannot help but wonder how the unnecessary death of 10 men sat on Fremont's conscience. From all appearances, he seemed nonplussed and never was remorseful or contrite.

Jessie and Fremont had arranged to meet in California and, although illness had overtaken her, the reunion was a joyful one. There was good news, too, in that the Mariposa land owned by Fremont proved rich in gold. Fremont lent his talents to running the Mariposa estate amidst claim jumpers and litigants who said his ownership was bogus. It wasn't. Politics became an obsession for the restless explorer, and he ran for and won the position of Senator from the State of California in 1850-51. It was a shortened term, and Fremont spent just 21 days in Congress.

To keep California within the Union, the Federal government sponsored various explorations to search for and to determine the best railroad mute to the West. Fremont, having lost his glory, was not among those invited this time. Nonetheless, be obtained private financing and decided to retry the route of his fourth expedition. This time he succeeded. This was Fremont's last exploration and he confided to his notes that the thrill and exhilaration no longer were there. It was time to move on to other things.

Civil War and political ambitions

Rumblings filled the air of the coming conflict between North and South, the issues of saving the Union, and what to do about slavery. Benton, a Democrat, but an antislaver, lost his senatorial seat because of his abolitionist stance. Fremont also was opposed to slavery and showed his respect for blacks by giving equal employment to one on some of his expeditions.

A new party called Republicans was forming, and Fremont became its presidential candidate in 1856, The explorer was backed by a number of influential persons, such as Horace Greeley, editor of The New York Tribune, and various other liberals. The Democratic candidate was James Buchanan. As with most political campaigns, this was a dirty one fraught with falsehoods and innuendos. Fremont's slogan, "Free soil, free men, Fremont, and victory," was parodied to "Free soilers, Fremonters, free niggers, and freebooters." Even Fremont's bastardy was brought into the electioneering. Fremont was defeated, but it was a respectable loss with possible favorable portents for the future.

Fremont was in Paris with Jessie when the Civil War broke out in 1861. He came home immediately, and Pres. Abraham Lincoln appointed him Major General of the West. It was quickly demonstrated that this was not a position for a man of Fremont's impetuosity and independence. Militarily, he was unsuccessful in battle. In Missouri, without permission and before Lincoln's Emancipation Proclamation, Fremont exceeded his authority and unilaterally declared the slaves there to be free. The President, as Commander-in-Chief, could not countenance this usurpation of his office and removed Fremont from that command, Ever ready to defend her husband, Jessie won a personal audience about the matter with the President, but his mind was made up. Lincoln made it clear that slavery, wag not the issue of the war; rather, it was preservation of the Union.

The reprimand caused Fremont to be transferred to a command in Virginia, but, unable to get along with his boss, Gen. John Pope, he asked the President to be relieved of duty. Lincoln was only too happy to oblige, and Fremont reentered civilian life. In 1864, he again was offered the presidential nomination, but declined. Lincoln won, but assassination soon followed.

Fremont set out to make money, but his Mariposa gold venture was having problems. Business never was his forte, and he made some bad investments, went broke, and survived economically only with Jessie's writing as their main means of support. He sought the governorship of the Territory of Arizona as a means of income and was appointed to that office in 1878. The salary was $2,000, a pittance to a man who had been a millionaire. His backers and constituency, however, gradually became disillusioned with him, complaining that he was too busy with other interests and neglected his post. They pressured him to resign, and he did so at age 68 on Oct. 11, 1881, then moved back East.

The year 1887 saw him in even greater need of money, and he thought he might capitalize on his memoirs if they were published. After all, this is what Grant did, enabling that former general to pay off his debts. (Grant died from cancer almost immediately after finishing his recollections.) Some of Fremont's memoirs were published, but they never brought in the expected large sums of money. A fickle public had lost its fascination with the Wunderkind.

Back East, the explorer's health was deteriorating, and doctors felt that a move to California might improve his condition. With Jessie's influence, but without her husband's knowledge, he was reduced to accepting charity in tire form of free railroad transportation. They spent two years in California before deciding to return East.

Ever active, Jessie quietly lobbied for her husband to be restored to his old Army rank so that he could receive a $6,000 pension for his services. In this she was successful. Ironically, it was just a few months after this act of recognition that in New York on July 13, 1890, Fremont died of peritonitis, or perhaps a bleeding ulcer.

In a simple funeral ceremony, his body was buried in a donated plot in Piermont, N.Y. In an act of generosity, Congress voted Jessie a $2,000-per-annum widow's pension. She lived another 12 years in a Los Angeles house that was donated by a ladies' club. When she died, her ashes were sent to be interred with her husband's remains at Piermont.

What can one say about John Charles Fremont? In his time, he was the greatest explorer of the American West and opened its vistas not only to ordinary, grateful pioneers, but to all who savored this country's geographical largesse. Truly, his wife's words best describe his accomplishments as an explorer: "From the ashes of his camping sites have sprung cities." Still, it also must be conceded, sic transit gloria mundi (so passes away the glory of the world).

Gerald F. Kreyche, American Thought Editor of USA Today, is emeritus professor of philosophy, DePaul University, Chicago, Ill.

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