The Wild West 8: Transit

to those who hear the tale. The group derived its name from George Donner, who set out from Springfield, Illinois with his family and the Reed family in mid April of eighteen forty six, heading towards California, and like other wagon trains, they joined a larger party also heading west. The first sign that things were about to go horribly

wrong happened in Wyoming. An experienced trail guide warned the group about using a new shortcut they intended to take, but the Donners in Reeds refused to listen, and that caused a rift in the party. The two groups parted ways, and the Donner Reed party set off toward the shortcut. Shortly after another traveler got gave them the same warning. Unfortunately,

predatory business practices were common along the migration routes. A local trading post operator, knowing both the dangers of the shortcut, but also wanting to keep a steady flow of businesses, had assured them that they were on the best route. The pioneers took him at his word. The travelers learned the hard way. New trails had to be carved out

and deep gorges had to be navigated with care. Even as they slowly progressed, believing that things would eventually improve, they faced even bigger difficulties on the trail ahead of them. The path forward lacked water, and the group lost quite a few oxen and other livestock, causing them to leave behind wagons. In October, heavy snows blocked the path across the Sierra Nevada Mountains, forcing them to make camp for the winter. Nearly half of the party died from exposure

or starvation. Rescuers stumbled across a gruesome scene. The group had taken to cannibalism to survive, but no amount of predators, tretchist routes, or tales of tragedy could discourage the pioneer spirit. The West was calling, so they would go there no matter the cost. I'm Aaron Mankee, and Welcome to the wild West. The West drew people like moths to a flame. As Americans pushed further and further west. In the mid nineteenth century, the allure of uncharted lands and better opportunity

beckoned pioneers from all walks of life. Families packed up their belongings and embarked on long and dangerous journeys, seeking to claim their slice of land and build a new future. In the early nineteenth century, steamboats were the primary means of travel and commerce, but as more frontiers opened up, the wagon train became the icon of westward expansion and independence. Missouri earned a reputation as the ideal starting point for

that westward migration. Merchants and tradesmen set up shops in the town, offering travelers, wagons, draft, animals, and supplies. The wagon train was a dynamic entity too, its size and composition ever changing as the journey progressed. Families would join or leave along the way, either merging with other trains or striking out on their own. Now back then, there were two types of wagons that were used for westward journeys,

the Conastoga wagon and the Prairie schooner. The Conastogo was heavy duty and ideal for freighting, while the Prairie schooner was lighter and more maneuverable, favored by immigrating families. Think of the Conestoga wagon as the semi tractor trailer of the wild West and the Prairie schooner as the station wagon. Both required horses or oxen to pull them, though, and could carry significant loads. Now, as you might imagine, the

westward journey was challenging. Wagon trains required leaders to ensure order and coordination captain's life. Large groups decided routes, organized breaks, and determined when to camp. The trouble was guidebooks were not always reliable, so scouts and mountain men were often employed, and wagon trains would vary in number, but twenty to forty wagons was the easiest to manage. They traveled in a straight line, formed a circle at night for protection,

and kept animals within the circle to prevent theft. The wagon train symbolized hope, resilience, and the spirit of those who sought a better life in uncharted lands. It represented the unity of families and the courage to face the unknown. Now, the first federally funded road, the National Road, had brought some semblance of civilization to the west. The road stretched from Cumberland, Maryland, to Saint Louis, Missouri. Don't think of

it as a highway like today, though. I mean it was essentially a patchwork of sections built over decades, and yet it served as a bustling highway for sprawling towns, villages, and roadside establishments that provided respite for weary travelers. Travelers had four main routes to the west coast. The Oregon and California passages offered water and greenery, but they were

plagued by winter snow. The journey along the Old Spanish and HeLa River trails had better weather year round, but posed their own dangers, including extreme heat and long stretches without water. But the Oregon routes probably carried the most risk. The journey was fraught with diseases such as dysentery, cholera, and smallpox. Accidents due to inexperience and exhaustion were just as common, with unfortunate souls being crushed beneath wagon wheels

or accidentally shot to death. People in livestock frequently drowned during river crossings, and yet the pioneers pressed on. They left behind messages alerting followers to disease outbreaks, treacherous water sources, and hostile Native American tribes. Dangerous, sure, but they all shared the same vision, a land of riches looking back. The spark that ignited this desire to move west occurred in eighteen forty eight, when James W. Marshall stumbled upon

gold in the American River near Colomba, California. Despite attempts to keep the discovery a secret, the news quickly spread, unleashing a worldwide frenzy known as the California Gold Rush. Initially, fortune smiled upon many as they mined streams and rivers, but after a decade gold became more scarce. Disillusioned miners

set their sights on new horizons. In eighteen fifty eight, a Georgian prospector named William Green Russell led a party of adventurers to the Pike's Peak country of the Southern Rocky Mountains. There they uncovered small deposits of precious gold dust. The newspapers quickly dubbed the region the new El Dorado. The call to action Pike's Peak or Bust, echoed across the nation, and in the process, Colorado became host to the second greatest gold rush in American history. A new

influx of fortune seekers raced to the area. Within a year, the modest cluster of mud chink, log cabins and ramshackle lean to is known as Denver, transformed into a vibrant settlement. But the Rockies were aptly named, and it was only a matter of time before disaster struck. It was too

good to be true. Back in eighteen fifty nine, the discovery of gold and Cherry Creek near present day Denver lured countless gold seekers to Colorado, but the San Juans, with their towering mountains exceeding thirteen thousand feet, presented a formidable challenge. The explorer John C. Fremont called them the highest, most rugged, most impractical, and inaccessible of the Rocky mountains.

Surviving in this unforgiving landscape required skill and caution. Winter could last up to nine months and brought the constant threat of avalanches and rock slides. Navigating the conditions became essential. Pack animals such as horses, mules, and burrows were relied upon to transport supplies to high altitude claims along the Coental Divide, and the perils of the terrain were relentless.

A single misstep could send a pack animal plummeting through the snow, and sudden storms only added to the danger. During winters, settlers and prospectors turned to skis as an indispensable means of travel. There were other hazards too. The sun's reflection off the snow could burn a traveler's eyes, disorienting them. Miners resorted to blackening their faces or wearing dark clothing as protection, while others shielded their eyes with veils.

Survival also became a group effort. Miners kept their cabins stocked with provisions for stranded travelers during snowstorms. Essentially, it was dangerous, but people adapted. The tragic news of unfortunate accidents kept everyone from becoming too complacent. But when it comes to human ambition versus the environment, nature is often unforgiving. Such was the story of Alfred Packer. He was born

in Alleghany County, Pennsylvania, back in eighteen forty two. At some point the family moved to Lagrange, Indiana, where his father worked as a cabinet maker. Like other young boys, Packer looked for a trade, becoming a shoemaker's apprentice. If you want to conjure an image of him in your mind, descriptions of him say that he had a fair complexion and blue eyes. He wasn't particularly tall either, standing just over five feet eight inches. As time passed, he suffered

from violent seizures, the symptoms of grandma epilepsy. Unfortunately, there was no effective treatment. Despite this, when the Civil War loomed on the horizon, he joined the sixteenth Regiment of the US Infantry in April of eighteen sixty two. While other men looked to avoid enlistment, Packer embraced the life of a soldier, but those seizures earn him a disability discharge. In late December of the same year. Undeterred, Packer enlisted once again, this time in the eighth Regiment of the

Iowa Cavalry. He made unfounded claims of serving as a scout for George Armstrong Custer, yet no evidence supports this. His darker sidemmer during his time in Tennessee, and he faced accusations of stealing from Nashville residents, But life in the military wasn't to be. After his discharge in April of eighteen sixty four, Packer ventured westward, working various jobs to pursue his fortune. He was a harness maker, teamster hunter,

and wilderness guide. Each job required him to travel across the rugged landscape, though he continued to grapple with his debilitating epileptic Seizures and lead poisoning plagued him during his copper mining endeavors in Bingham County, Utah, but Packer remained resilient and he recovered by the fall of eighteen seventy three. It was just in time, too, there was news of

silver strikes in the San Juan Mountains of Colorado. You see, it was at this fateful moment that he crossed paths with Bob McGrew and George Tracy, two men preparing to join a group bound for Colorado. Impressed by Packer's apparent health, intelligence and claims of experience along their route, McGrew offered him a place in their expedition, provided that he contributed as a guide and helped with the horses and so Magru Tracy, Packer, and sixteen others embarked on their expedition

from Bingham Canyon on November first. Along the way, Preston Nutter and Oliver D. Lutzenheiser joined the group when one of the men expressed concerns about their inadequate provisions. Packer reassured him, claiming his familiarity with the terrain and ensuring a trouble free trip of roughly four hundred miles in just twenty days. But little did they know that their journey would soon take an unimaginable turn. They carried hope

with them. The twenty one Explorers left on the treacherous journey from Bingham Canyon to the San Juans in the late fall of eighteen seventy three, but Alfred Packer's false claims of experience led the men astray, and the party quickly fell into misfortune and distrust. Packer's lack of competency as a trail guid wasn't the half of it either. He also squandered provisions and stole from other travelers. But most unsettling to the group was their trail guide's fascination

with their financial assets. And yet despite it all, Magru showed compassion for Packer and his struggle with epilepsy. Challenges mounted as the journey progressed. Packer's lack of knowledge about the Colorado terrain proved disastrous, exacerbating the scarcity of wild game and the rapid depletion of their rations. Frustrations reached a breaking point, and the desperate prospectors were left to

contemplate killing and consuming their own horses. Their dire circumstances led them to the Chief Ourey's winter camp along the Uncompagre River in January of eighteen seventy four. Offering shelter and safety. The chief implored the prospectors to stay until spring because of the dangers of winter travel in the area. Initially, they heated his counsil and accepted the chief's hospitality, but some of the men grew restless and decided to continue

their journey. Chief Ouray advised them about nearby outposts, warning them of the hazardous routes, and shared information about a cowcamp maintained jointly by the US government and the Ute tribe. Despite the chief's repeated cautions, though the men dismissed his wisdom, in early February, a small party led by Lutzenheiser broke away, setting off on foot toward the cowcamp. Initially, Packer tried to join them, but Lutzenheiser's distrust escalated to threats. He

even forbade Packer from following them. The group endured a treacherous ordeal. Nonetheless, battling starvation and bitter cold, it took them three weeks to reach the cow camp, and some members teetered on the brink of death. Packer led a second party of five men into the unknown. Ignoring Chief Oui's warnings and drawing on his supposed knowledge, Packer guided them across the snow covered mountains. Tragically, it would be the last time anyone except Packer would be seen alive.

A month or so later, in late March or early April of eighteen seventy four, a small band of utes came upon a solitary white man camping by the Gunnison River. Unbeknownst to the camper, the utes witnessed his every move. They watched the man hastily discard an object into the river. Later,

that object was discovered to be a human arm. In the harsh winter of eighteen seventy four, at the remote Los Pinos Indian Agency near Koachitopa Pass, a shaggy, unkept man stumbled upon the compound, and while he appeared like any other weary traveler, something about him aroused suspicion. The man identified himself as Alfred Packer and He said that he'd been on a prospecting expedition with five others. The men left him behind with a few provisions while they

went to find a settlement, but they never returned. He bragged about surviving on rosebuds during his two month wilderness ordeal, contradicting his well fed appearance. But it was here the Packer's story really began to fall apart. Lutzenheiser's group Quinn, incidentally arrived at Los Pinos around the same time, and as you'd imagine, they had questions about their missing companions. Seeking answers, the prospectors organized a search party. Along the way,

Packer's story changed. He claimed that one of his companions had died due to starvation. Suspicion grew, and the expedition was called off, sending Packer back to Suwatch, where he was imprisoned. Not long after, though he escaped, The truth unraveled when an artist on assignment for Harper's Weekly stumbled upon the remains of the missing prospectors. The bodies showed

signs of violence, contradicting the original account. It would be ten long years before authorities recaptured Packer, this time in Wyoming during his transport back to Colorado, he provided another confession, claiming a storm and lack of provisions drove the men to desperate measures, and he admitted to killing a man in self defense and then later eating the body to survive. During the trial, well he was portrayed as a ghoulish fiend,

and the prosecution emphasized his violent behavior and greed. On April thirteenth of eighteen eighty three, the court found him guilty of premeditated murder. Judge Melville B. Jerry delivered the grim verdict, condemning the Colorado Cannibal to hang just like the Donners. Alfred Packer's story haunted those who set out in an unforgiving landscape to seek their fortunes, and thanks

to his actions, he would never be forgotten. It was never easy in the rugged and treacherous world of the San Juans in the eighteen seventies, travelers faced significant risks in their pursuit of gold and silver, withstanding the elements and environment, met relying on others to come to their aid if needed. The common need to survive instill the sense of responsibility and trust among the miners, But Alfred Packer's cannibalistic act shattered this trust, endangering the newcomer's fragile

control over their natural and social world. The case sparked a series of legal appeals. Packer's lawyers argued that he could not be charged under the new state laws since the murders occurred before those laws were passed. Despite those appeals, though, he was tried again in eighteen eighty five and found guilty. He received the longest sentence ever handed down by an American judge, as well a forty year imprisonment that likely amounted to a lifelong sentence. Yet forty three year old

Packer refused to give up his fight for freedom. Something totally unexpected happened. He gained public attention when a muckraking reporter, Polly Prye, took up his cause. She championed his innocence, highlighting character witnesses and appealing to the public sympathy for his declining health. Packer suggested that his release could be a profitable business venture, capitalizing on his associations with the

Wild West. Although he found some support, most residents of the San Juans and other mountain communities strongly opposed Packer's release. His guilt lay not in cannibalism, but in his betrayal of the group's well being and the shared code of hospitality. Eventually, though pressure from outside the Mountain communities led Governor Charles S. Thomas to pardon Packer in nineteen oh one, he finally

gained his freedom, but it came at a cost. His actions and reputation condemned him to an isolated life all the way until his death in nineteen oh seven, but stories like his and the Donners tend to live on. Over time, Packer's name transformed from a symbol of horror to an unlikely Western folk hero. In an unlikely twist, the Colorado Cannibal became a source of pioneer pride, with his name adorning various establishments and even a bust installed

at the Colorado State Capitol. Films, songs, and merchandise further cemented his place in pop culture. In nineteen eighty nine, Packer's supposed victims were exact doomed by a team of forensic anthropologists led by James Starrs. The examination revealed extensive evidence of violence and the removal of flesh from the bodies. Most intriguing, the cut marks on the victim's backs, suggested that the killer did not want to face them directly

during the gruesome act. Stars concluded that Packer was the killer. Innocent or not, the story remains complex and unsettling. Either way, it's a reminder of just how fragile our trust in others can be, especially in times of survival. I hope you enjoyed today's exploration of just how difficult the westward journey was in the early days of the Wild West. The risks they took, the pain they suffered, all of it represented the costs they had to pay for a

new chance at a better life. But Alfred Packer and even the Donners before him, weren't the only travelers worn down by their journey. In fact, we've saved one more tale of difficult travels, and if you stick around through this brief sponsor break, my teammates Ali Stead will tell you all about it.

rich traditions, leaving him hungry for knowledge and adventure. His search led him across the country, where he spent time in the fur trade, and, like many men of the period, he served in the military. Some even say he might have fought in the Battle of New Orleans during the War of eighteen twelve. Following the war, Bush was fascinated by the world of fur trappers and voyagers. He joined several ex peditions with esteemed companies like the Robudoux and

the Hudson's Bay Company. For a time, these travels took him to the wild western plains and across towering mountain ranges. At some point, the call to adventure might have taken him all the way to the Puget Sound region. Over time, though, he became tired of trapping, or maybe he just wanted a change of pace. He settled the Missouri, becoming a farmer and rancher, But life in the Midwest wasn't what

he'd hoped. Racism was a constant challenge. It didn't take long for tales of the Oregon territory, with its plentiful resources and boundless opportunities to captivate him. As he worked in his fields and fed the cattle, he began to imagine a new life on the West coast. Bush's longtime friend Michael Simmons, also had his eye on the West coast, and before long a few other families mentioned they were thinking about moving. As plans began to come together, they

decided to call it the Simmons Party. Although the two men would share leadership responsibilities. Bush had more money than his fellow travelers and might have supplied the wagons for the journey. It said that his wagon contained a false floor where he hid his silver dollars. The Oregon trail was treacherous, to say the least, and there was safety in numbers. The Simmons Party joined up with another larger wagon train, and the journey westward began in May of

eighteen forty four. The two thousand mile long trip took many months, finally arriving at the Dales late that year. Every one was filled with hope except the Bush family. See Oregon prohibited black settlers.

near their friends and made the journey with them. The party befriended the Nisqually tribe, even learning to speak their language. Winters were hard, but the group quickly settled into their new community. At long last, Bush and his family had finally found the life they'd been searching for. Their farm had acres of fruit trees, and he was becoming successful. The two families erected a gristmill, allowing everyone to grind their own flour, and set up a sawmill not too

long after. When others came to the area, Bush treated them with the same generosity and acceptance he and the Simmons party had received. But the racism that Bush had escaped eventually caught up with him, nearly costing him his claim on the farm he'd worked so hard for. Fortunately, his reputation and the kindness he'd given others swayed legislators to make an exemption. In eighteen fifty four, they unanimously voted to grant special permission for George and Isabella Bush

to contind you owning their own property. In eighteen fifty six, the couple continued to serve the community by providing the first mower and reaper and more farm equipment down the line. Sadly, a brain hemorrhage ended George Washington Bush's life on April fifth of eighteen sixty three. An untimely death may have taken him too soon, but the heart of his story lives on. It stands as a testament to the resilience and courage that defined the pioneers who ventured westward along

the Oregon Trail. It also celebrates the diverse individuals who helped carve the foundations of the American West.

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