Frontier Brawl Described by John Bratt- Primary Source
This fistfight story describes how some disputes were settled on the frontier.
The American frontier of the 19th century was a place where freedom flourished. Personally, I think this is what still draws people to the time period. If you are a freedom-loving person, how could you not be interested in the time? People could travel freely across millions of acres. They could live unencumbered by the restraints of society. Many primary sources seem to indicate that when it was all said and done, this freedom was the real gold that frontiersmen were after. Once they tasted it, some of the people could never get it out of their system.
However, whenever you talk about freedom, you have to discuss the other side of the coin which is responsibility. Freedom and responsibility always walk hand in hand. The more freedom you have, the more responsibility you have. It is inescapable. For example, if you lived in the Soviet Union during the height of Stalin’s 5-Year Plans you had 0 freedom. As a result, you had 0 responsibility in the fact that you were probably starving. It honestly wasn’t your fault. On the other hand, if you live in a free society, you do have responsibility in how things in your life go. The more free you are, the more responsibility you have for the outcome. It’s simply how freedom works.
As mentioned, one place to see this relationship is on the frontier. People were completely free. As a result, they were completely responsible for themselves as well. If they were hungry, they were responsible for putting food in their stomach. If they were cold, they had to get themselves warm. If they got in a bad situation, they were responsible for getting themselves out of it. There was also no law enforcement, so they also were responsible for their own protection.
It’s worth pointing out there was very little law on the frontier. As you might guess, this meant it may have also attracted people who enjoy harming others. Bandits of all shades were active on the frontier. It could be a brutal place. The reality was, that if you went to the frontier, you were responsible for your own protection. This included fighting people who would try and kill you, as well as fighting basic thugs who may not want to kill you, but would certainly bully you if you let them. Most readers are probably aware that some of these disputes turned deadly. It wasn’t uncommon for arguments to boil over into things like gun and knife fights. However, deadly combat wasn’t the most common method of settling disputes. Many were settled with an old-fashioned fistfight. While most of these fights were never recorded, frontiersman John Bratt did write about one in his book Trails of Yesterday.
Before getting to the description, it might be worth explaining a little about who John Bratt was at the time of this event. Bratt had been born in England before immigrating to America at the age of 21. Once in America, Bratt discovers that America wasn’t the land of milk and honey he had dreamed of. After bouncing around from city to city looking for work, he eventually almost starved to death in New Orleans. Eventually, he traveled to Nebraska City looking to find work. Those who read the Sam Payne series may find it interesting that his experiences are the foundation for that book series.
At Nebraska City, Bratt hires on as a freighter. As he describes in the linked primary source, the freighters were a mixed lot. Some were good, some middling, and others “very bad.” Bratt also explains that due to his conscientious nature, he was labeled a “goody-goody” by the rest of the crew. As you might expect, he caught a lot of cracks. Over time, Bratt seems to have won the favor of almost all the men except one; a man named Captain Bass. In his book, Bratt describes his relationship with Bass like this:
“I could write a big chapter of this Captain Bass's mean, brutish ways, which I had made up my mind to tolerate no longer.”
At this point in the story, Bratt, Captain Bass, and the rest of the crew are on the trail to deliver freight to Fort Phil Kearny. After departing from Fort Laramie, Bratt and Bass have an altercation that is the subject of this post. Here we’ll let Bratt take over the storytelling.
“A couple of nights after my whipping by the Indians we had just formed corrals for the night. I had unyoked my team. Many of the other teamsters had not commenced to unyoke theirs. The captain rode up to me and ordered that I take the cattle to water before I picked up my yokes and chains. I mildly remonstrated and asked him how I could do so when many of the teams were not unyoked. He answered with an oath and told me to do what he said. I made no reply but walked to where my lead yoke lay on the ground, unhooked the chain and proceeded to pick it up. He was watching me and immediately rode up, whipped out his revolver, leveled it at my head and with a bad oath accompanied by an expression still common in some parts of the West, tried his best to push the end of his revolver into my mouth and commanded me to drop that yoke. I threw the yoke to the ground and told the captain what I thought of him; that, although I had done everything in my power to please him, there were many things I ought not to have done; that he had imposed on me ever since we left old Fort Kearny; that although he was captain of the entire outfit, and his uncle owned the train, yet — even though he was big enough to whip me -- I was not afraid of him and was willing to fight him any way he chose, with guns, revolvers, knives or in a fair fist fight. By this time many of the bullwhackers had gathered around us and were urging me on by yelling: " Go for him, Bratt! Go for him, Bratt!! We'll stay by you. "All the outfit, including the wagon masters and assistants, hated him. Some of these men pulled him off his mule and took his revolvers and knife from him. This done, I threw my revolvers and bowie knife on the ground and in a few seconds we were both fighting in "dead earnest" and I was soon getting the worst of it. He not only punished me with his fists but jabbed his spurs in my neck. He was a giant compared to me. The men pulled him off me once but I went at him again and finally got the lobe of his left ear between my teeth and, though I am sorry to tell it, I did not let go until I spit a part of his ear on the ground. He finally got up amid the taunts and jeers of the crowd of bullwhackers, picked up his revolvers and knife, put a dirty, old, red handkerchief to his bleeding ear and started for his wagon, swearing he would fix me yet. I came out of the fight badly used up, my face covered with blood, some teeth missing, but with many congratulations from my fellow bullwhackers who promised to stand by me should he tackle me again. This, I think, prevented him from carrying out his threat later, since he saw the sympathy of nearly all the men was with me, and instead of abusing me, he became more considerate and let me alone the rest of the trip. Whether this was caused by shame or fear of the further ill will of the men in the different outfits, I don't know. For the present I shall leave him to heal up his notched left ear. Enough to say that I picked up my yokes and chains before taking the steers to water.”
Well, if Bratt tells the story accurately, he got whipped. Spurs to the neck, a bloody face, and missing teeth. But, in an effort to stop the beating, he bites off a hunk of the Captain’s ear. You can also see the scene of these two fighting it out on the plains, surrounded by a crowd of jeering bullwhackers. In the end, the Captain stomps off to “heal up” and Bratt picks up his yokes to water the steers. The next day, the crew trudges on toward their destination.
This entry seems worth sharing for a few reasons. Perhaps, though, it is an example of the price of freedom on the frontier. Nobody was looking out for Bratt on that freighting trip. According to him, his captain actually, “whipped out his revolver, leveled it at my head and…tried his best to push the end of his revolver into my mouth…” At that point, Bratt could no longer afford timidity. There was nowhere he could go. He had to fight.
Modern readers might balk at this entry. In a world where most people live in relative safety and security, we can forget about this reality of life. Bratt was on his own against a bully, and there was no 911 to call. Part of the cost of the freedom of the Plains was the responsibility of his own security. Although he takes a beating, he still stands up for himself. After this incident, according to Bratt, the Captain pretty much leaves him alone.
I have to guess that these sorts of scrapes weren’t uncommon. There are other sources that indicate the same sort of brawls. However, my guess is that fistfights were common enough that they were seldom described by chroniclers. They were probably just not that interesting. In a place as wild and free as the frontier was, people couldn’t depend on somebody else to come settle their disputes. Instead, they had to take care of themselves. Part of that consisted of providing for their own security.
