Patience and compromise were two necessities for political success at the highest levels, and Crockett would never possess either.
I am, and will always be, I expect, fascinated by the American legend of “Davy” Crockett. The “Crockett Craze,” sparked by a three-episode series on Walt Disney’s television show, exploded on the scene just at the time when I was becoming aware of the world around me. The image of actor Fess Parker in his coonskin cap and buckskins remains etched on my mind. This memory I share with many other Baby Boomers. I think each of the several books I’ve read previously about Crockett’s life have been presented in the form of a sort of dialogue with my generation’s memories of that cultural moment.
But we Boomers are passing from the scene, and it’s time for a book that handles the life of Col. David Crockett, bear hunter and Tennessee congressman, more or less from scratch. Which is what Buddy Levy’s Crockett: The Real-Life Adventures of the Frontier Legend does. Disney does not appear on stage until the mop-up chapters at the end.
Viewed historically, the 1950s Crockett Craze was a second act. Crockett was America’s (perhaps the world’s) first celebrity in the modern sense – a person made famous by the media. A rising population of literate common people was hungry for a hero with whom they could identify. And Crockett, an unpolished, definitely not wealthy congressman from the ragged western edge of the republic, filled the bill perfectly. He had sufficient credentials as a wilderness hunter and army scout to provide the bare bones for a legend, and his rustic wit and braggadocio always made him good newspaper copy.
Author Levy has organized sometimes meager documentary evidence, presenting it along with Crockett’s own (generally pretty reliable) autobiography to recount the man’s story in a fascinating and sympathetic way. He believes (as some historians doubt) that Crockett was sincere in his opposition to Pres. Jackson’s removal of the Native American tribes – certainly prejudice (which sprang from cruel warfare on both sides) caused most of his fellow settlers to hate the tribes generally, but it’s also true that Crockett had fought alongside friendly Indians during the Creek War, and some of their race had saved his life on at least one occasion. (He does gloss over Crockett’s slave-holding, though). He affirms the traditional account of Crockett’s execution at the Alamo, though a footnote mentions that there are contrary views.
All in all, I found Crockett a very readable and fascinating account of a remarkable American life. I do recommend it.
Very interesting – thanks!
I wonder how John Wayne’s Crockett in The Alamo (1960) played into pop cultural perception and appreciation – and Fess Parker going on to play Daniel Boone as well for so long, starting in 1964?
I had a fake-fur ‘coonskin cap at an early age, and think I was more Crockett- than Boone-minded about it. (Finally got a new one, this past winter – though some folks think it looks Russian.)
The author speaks highly of John Wayne’s movie, saying (correctly) that Wayne was a pretty good casting choice, considered as a cultural icon. But it wasn’t a big hit when it came out. Lost money, as I recall. Fess Parker may be better remembered as Daniel Boone by people about five or ten years younger than me. I was always faithful to Davy, myself. (As for the cap, author Levy makes a mistake in stating that Daniel Boone wore such headgear. Boone’s son stated flatly that his father hated fur caps, and always wore a hat with a brim.)
I had a toy coonskin cap, and it was precious to me, even after I’d lost its tail. I’ve always wanted to get a “real” one, but it would be quite an impractical purchase. Author Levy seems to think that Disney invented the “coonskin” part — Davy’s original portrayals featured a wildcat skin or other kinds of fur. But I’m pretty sure the filmmakers had settled on coonskin before Disney did it. Crockett doesn’t seem to have ever worn such a cap until it was forced on him by a popular stage play. There’s evidence that he had a fox skin cap when he went to Texas.
Thanks for all this ‘hat-lore’ – very interesting! The idea of a real one appealed to me,too, at a later age – but I eventually ended up getting a reasonably-priced rabbitskin ushanka when I visited the USSR (!) Thanks, too, for the note of Levy’s opinion of Wayne. I suppose I must have seen it on TV sometime – but I have a sense of it in color – maybe I saw at my grandparents, who had color long before we did. The current version of its Wikipedia article includes “Though the film had a large box-office take, its cost kept it from being a success, and Wayne lost his personal investment. He sold his rights to United Artists, which had released it, and it made back its money” – followed by a “citation needed” note.