Lewis and Clark

The Lewis and Clark story was all new to me, I'm embarrassed to say. That Lewis and Clark were explorers of some sort, and that they had explored something in America a long time ago—that was the extent of what I knew. I was aware there had been a big anniversary of their endeavors a few years ago, and various books had been published about them around that time—but I had read neither the reviews, nor the books.

The details of the story are astounding. Having purchased the Louisiana Territory, Thomas Jefferson asked Meriwether Lewis, who was nothing but an acquaintance and an aide in his administration, to head up the Corps of Discovery--a bit like hiring a talented and promising nephew. Lewis was supposed to explore the territory, search for a waterway to the Pacific, and take lots of notes along the way on everything he saw and did. Although Lewis was prone to drinking and depressions, not usually a winning, or safe, combination, he was put in charge of hiring and training thirty men and then taking them west. Lewis was in his mid-twenties; he was twenty-nine by the time the expedition got under way. My hair is very gray, so I can say this: he was a kid—a troubled kid.

And yet he did it. He engaged an army buddy who was in his mid-thirties to help him out. William Clark was not formally schooled—he spelled Sioux twenty-seven different ways in his journals--but he sure could draw maps. Together they gathered thirty men. Then off they went in a keel boat and two small crafts loaded up with food, weapons, and booze, floating out onto the Ohio, the Missouri, and the Columbia Rivers. Along the way, they met the famous Sacagawea and made her their interpreter, they survived various encounters with Indians and harsh environments, they crossed the Rockies, and all the while they drew. They drew wildlife, but most importantly-- Clark drew maps. His maps opened up the continent for settlement, completely changing the character of the country within fifty years.

There are two elements to this story that Simon comments on. They both center around Sacagawea. She gave birth to a boy during the journey. She schlepped this child along on her back. What about diapers? How could she keep him safe? How did she feed him? How did Sacagawea make sure her baby didn't get the measles or smallpox from all those white men? For Simon, who has studied the Aztecs-- Europeans were ticking time-bombs.

The other aspect of Sacagawea's story that interests him is that when Lewis and Clark met her, she had been separated from her family. She was a Shoshone who had been kidnapped as a child, traded as a captive, and ended up as the wife of a French trapper. In her role as translator for Lewis and Clark, she eventually found herself reunited with her people, sitting in front of the latest Shoshone chieftain. When she looked up into his face, he turned out to be the brother she had not seen since she was a child.

There is an illustration of this scene in the book we are using. Over the course of a few days, Simon looks at it again and again.

“What are you thinking, Stinkernoodle?”

“She must have missed her brother. She must have been so happy,” he says.

Simon sees the Lewis and Clark story through the prism of his own obsessions: adults must take extra good care of children; families are at the center of his universe—they must stay together.

I, of course, read the story through my own obsessions, which turn out not to be that different. If I had to verbalize the one triggered by this story, it would be something like this: we must all take good care of each other. Most people don't. And there's the rub.

But Lewis and Clark did take good care, of each other and the men under their command. The journey took two years, four months and ten days. In that time they lost only one man—historians think he died from acute appendicitis. Everyone else got a chance to live their lives all the way through.

I find myself coming back to this one detail. The fact that almost everyone returned home safely wasn't just the result of luck. Enthralled by this story, I watch Ken Burns' documentary about the expedition—which is thin on documentary footage and thick on grand views of the Colorado River. Still, I learn that Lewis and Clark micro-managed that expedition, from setting tough boundaries, to making thoughtful decisions, to doling out only a bit of liquor at the end of every day. Their men survived because Lewis and Clark made sure they did.

A few years later Lewis killed himself, or so it seems. Maybe, for him, it had been easier to live in extreme circumstances, at the end of the known world, responsible for the lives of so many. Or maybe, he felt that no one cared that deeply about him. He was thirty-five.