Two isolated locations that drastically altered the course of
American history and we do not acknowledge either.
The spot where I stand today is deep in the Bitterroot
Mountains. Two hundred and fifteen years ago a disappointment near 400 years in
the making devastated a young nation’s top explorer. Those of you I had in
American History class know this story,
if you were paying attention.
In September 1805, Merriweather Lewis and George Rogers
Clark became the first white men to visit what is the present day border of Montana and Idaho. They crossed the
Continental Divide just to the east of this spot on the banks of the Salmon
River. Fifteen months prior, the two explorers and their party of 30 or so
motley frontiersman had been sent by President Thomas Jefferson on the “Voyage
of Discovery.” Their top mission
priority was to find and map the long
sought Northwest Passage, a waterway path to the Pacific Ocean via the western
flow of the United States’ vast grid of unexplored rivers, a shortened trade route to China. It
had also been the goal of Christopher Columbus when he set
sail for the New World 312 years before
the Voyage of Discovery had left St. Louis. In between, many men followed and perished in the same
searching quest, all believing the
connecting route was somewhere in these
mountains and riches awaited its discoverer.
The dream died here, at this very spot.
“The river,” Clark wrote in his journal, “becomes almost one
continued rapid. The mountains close (as) a perpendicular cliff on both sides.
The water runs with great violence from one rock to another, foaming and
roaring through the rocks in every direction.”
The expedition leaders were crushed. Several days before
Clark had written in his journal he was certain they had found the passage that
would lead to the Columbia River and the Pacific west coast. It meant the men would now have to abandon the canoes they
had paddled all the way from St. Louis and continue west on foot. More important, it meant the hopes of
explorers of the past 400 years had been shattered. There was no Northwest
Passage, no gold lined shortcut to the Orient.
The closing of the door on the Northwest Passage was the
opening of a new and better one; Westward Expansion. Instead of a port of
passage to China, the western United States became the land of opportunity.
Within 25 years the Oregon Trail passed near here, jammed backed with settlers headed for new
lives and a new dream, land to put roots down into.
Still, as I stand here with the roaring background of the
raging rapids, the disappointment of the ages can be felt. It is palpable.
Second , a street corner in Winslow, Arizona.
In 1973 Glen Frye was
just another long-haired drifter trying to make a living in rock and roll. Then
he struck musical gold with a song about standing on the street corner in a
little town named Winslow, Arizona. He and his group the Eagles were on the fast
track to immortality.
In 1987 Frye’s new year’s party was the “it” place for
celebrities to attend. The assured winner for the upcoming 1988 presidential
election was Senator Gary Hart. He dominated the polls and most other serious
Dems by this point had dropped out.
At Frye’s party Hart met a young lady named Donna Rice. The married politician and his 25 years younger paramour began an
affair. When the press found out about the “Monkey Business,” Hart’s political
career was over. The next “best” choice was the very dour George Bush, Sr. A
good man, he was not a good president. One term was enough and like Hart,
another young glib and handsome man burst on the national scene, Bill Clinton.
He made two terms, but also like Hart, he couldn’t keep his pants zipped. It soiled
the family name and opened the door for the next generation of republicans,
George W. Bush.
After the economy tanked during Bush 2.0’s second term,
Hillary Clinton charged to the front of hopeful
democrats. But, the family name had been tainted, the “slickness” had rubbed
off. We are a nation that does like to
be called bigoted. So, if we are not ready for our first female president, how
about our first man of color? We were not as ready as we thought. President Obama
was maligned for 8 years by the newly emerged right-wing talk radio, racism a constant undertowing force. During
the Obama years, skin color was always the two-ton elephant in the room.
The world asks today how could America have elected a man as
unstable as Donald Trump? You have to go back to 1973 and a street corner in
Winslow, AZ. For, without there would have been no 1987 NYE party at Glen
Frye’s penthouse, Gary Hart would have been elected president, the Clinton’s
would have stayed in AR, the nation would have not taken the drastic step of
electing a man of color president and
there would have been no rallying point for the Tea Party whose agenda would
not have been hijacked by the racist platform of Trump.
See, America found on the street corner in Winslow, AZ much
more than, “a lover who won’t blow my cover.”
Two events that have
dictated our destiny, should they then not be a part of our history, as
well?