Muse

Hello, American History Tellers listeners. The live show I've been telling you about for a few weeks has a new date, October 23rd at the Plaza Theater in Garland, Texas. This is my Days That Made America tour, a thrilling evening of history, storytelling, and music with me and a band live on stage. So if you're in the North Texas area or anywhere close, be sure to come out and see me live. And more shows will be announced soon. For information on tickets and upcoming dates, go to AmericanHistoryLive.com. That's AmericanHistoryLive.com. Come see my Days That Made America tour live on stage. Go to AmericanHistoryLive.com. Imagine it's the summer of 1821 on the banks of the Duck River in western Tennessee. You're a local politician, and you're standing on a small makeshift stage in front of a crowd of frontier farmers, laborers, and landowners. They've just finished a competitive squirrel hunt, and now everyone is looking forward to an afternoon of dancing and eating hickory-smoked ribs. But this party has a dual purpose. It's also the unofficial launch of your run for the Tennessee state legislature. So before everyone starts eating, you and a rival candidate intend to make a few remarks. You adjust the collar of your tailored shirt and glance sideways at your opponent. He's wearing buckskin and leather breeches with a battered raccoon skin pouch slung over one shoulder. During the squirrel hunt, he was in his element, effortlessly picking off his prey with his rifle. Now, on stage before voters, he looks completely lost. You reach out to shake his hand and lean in close to him. Mr. Crockett, I admire your ambition, but I think you're about to discover that the good people of Tennessee are looking for a statesman to represent them. Not a squirrel hunter. Perhaps you'd be better off addressing a gathering of woodland creatures. You notice several beads of sweat forming on his brow, and he smiles weakly. Maybe so, but of all the squirrels, bears, and wolves I've hunted, not one has expected a speech out of me. You just smile and turn to address the crowd. Ladies and gentlemen, if I may have your attention. I know we're all eager to tuck into some fine eating, but first, my fellow candidate here and I would like to say a few words. Mr. Crockett, please, you speak first. I'm sure the voters want to hear how shooting varmints prepares a man for affairs of state. Crockett shuffles forward on the stage. Well, I'm not much of a speaker. Truth is, I reckon all I've got to say is I'd appreciate your vote. Crockett steps back, mopping the sweat from his forehead, and the onlookers exchange awkward glances. Thank you, Mr. Crockett. That was very illuminating. But just as you're about to launch into your speech, Crockett steps forward again. Though, I did know a fellow who spent half a day

beaten on the side of an empty cider barrel. Somebody finally asked him what in thunder he was doing, and he'd said there'd been cider in this barrel a few days earlier, and he was trying to see if there was any left. Well, it seems I'm just like that fellow with his barrel, you know. There was a little bit of a speech in me a while ago, but I reckon I can't quite get it out now. As the crowd's laughter rolls across the riverbank, you can actually see Crockett's body relax, and then he throws you a sly glance. Though I suppose beating on an empty barrel is still more useful work than most politicians, like my opponent here, can manage. You're incensed, but before you can think of a retort, Crockett hops off the stage. Well, I'm as dry as a powder horn, so if anyone wants to hear some of my tales from the backwoods, let's wet our whistles over at the liquor stand. The crowd swarms Crockett as he makes his way toward the whiskey barrels. You're left scratching your head. You'd counted on Crockett embarrassing himself. Instead, he's made you look like the fool. And as cheers from the party echo across the riverbank, one thing becomes clear. On the frontier, voters don't want a politician like you. They want someone relatable like Davy Crockett.

dig into the surprising story of an American institution, from the origins of the internet, to the National Park Service, to the GI Bill, and so much more. You'll hear the stories behind them, plus a conversation with an expert who knows it inside and out. This is the real history of how we built the country under your feet, and you'll never look at any of it the same way again.

Listen to and follow Government That Doesn't Suck, available now wherever you get your podcasts. This Is Actually Happening is a podcast that features extraordinary true stories of life-changing events told by the people who lived them. In a special six-part series called AI, A New Kind of Being, This Is Actually Happening explores the powerful and unexpected ways artificial intelligence is changing human lives. Follow This Is Actually Happening wherever you get your podcasts.

From Audible Originals, I'm Lindsey Graham, and this is American History Tellers. Our history, your story. on our show we'll take you to the events the times and the people that shaped america and americans our values our struggles and our dreams we'll put you in the shoes of everyday people as history was being made, and we'll show you how the events of the times affected them, their families, and affects you now. For much of the 19th century, as American settlement pushed ever further west, the frontier captured the nation's imagination like nowhere else. It was a place of reinvention, where fortunes could be made, reputations remade, and ordinary lives transformed into something extraordinary. Among the remarkable figures who emerged from that era was the frontiersman and politician Davy Crockett. In the summer of 1821, at a community gathering in western Tennessee, Crockett launched his political career with a self-effacing speech that highlighted his image as a plain-spoken backwoods hunter. By turning his lack of polish into an advantage, Crockett won over the crowd and secured a landslide victory for a seat in the Tennessee legislature, the first step on his path to Congress and national fame. Crockett had survived a tough childhood through hunting, hard labor, and sheer self-reliance, before taking up arms to serve in the frontier militia. During his military service, he earned a reputation as a man who looked out for those who fought beside him, and later in Congress, Crockett would become a champion of the common man. But after a series of financial setbacks and political defeats, in 1835, Crockett would make the fateful decision to ride for Texas, and it was there, at the Alamo, where myth and reality collided, that Davy Crockett became a national folk hero. In this series, we'll explore five remarkable figures whose lives were shaped by the unique circumstances of westward expansion, and who in turn helped shape our national mythology about the West. This is episode one of our five-part series on frontier legends, Davy Crockett. David Crockett was born on August 17, 1786, in the backwoods of eastern Tennessee, near the Nolichucky River in what is now Greene County. He was the fifth of nine children, born to John and Rebecca Crockett, part of a sprawling pioneer family where every pair of hands mattered. Crockett's parents had come west after the Revolutionary War, joining thousands of settlers who poured across the Appalachian Mountains in search of new opportunity, but life on the frontier was harsh and uncertain. At the time of Crockett's birth,

Tennessee was primarily wilderness and still several years away from statehood. Small settlements clung to riverbanks and clearings, separated by vast stretches of dense woods and rugged terrain. The area had long been home to the Cherokee and Muscogee Creek nations, but as poor white settlers and wealthy land speculators alike rushed in to claim the region, these indigenous groups increasingly saw their homelands threatened. This led to simmering resentment and clashes between Native Americans and settlers, violence that impacted Davy's own family. Nine years before Davy was born, his paternal grandparents had been killed in an Indian raid on their homestead in East Tennessee. During that same attack, Davy's uncle was kidnapped and would remain captive for 18 years. But despite the danger that surrounded them on the frontier, the Crockett's chose to remain in Tennessee. As a boy, Davey lived with his parents and eight siblings in a small log cabin, and the family farmed a plot of rugged land. It was a difficult existence, and Davey's father John struggled to keep the family fed. When crops failed, the family had to rely on foraging and hunting to survive. So from an early age, young Davey learned how to track deer through the woods, shoot wild turkey, and hunt black bears. Ammunition on the frontier was expensive, so every shot had to count. Crockett later claimed that as a boy, he learned never to fire unless he was certain he would hit his target. When Davey was seven years old, his father invested what little money the family had into building a gristmill to grind grain into flour. The mill promised steady income and a chance to escape the constant uncertainty of subsistence farming. But just before the mill opened for business, disaster struck. Torrential rains burst in nearby rivers' banks, and the floodwaters tore through the Crockett property, destroying both the mill and the family home. Forced to start over, the family relocated to nearby Jefferson County, where Davies' father John opened a tavern along a busy wagon road that ran from Knoxville, Tennessee to Abingdon, Virginia. But business was slow, and the family's debts mounted. Desperate for cash, John decided to hire 12-year-old Davy out to a cattle drover named Jacob Seidler. Over the course of several weeks, Davy helped Seidler drive hundreds of cattle to Virginia on foot across brutal frontier landscape, enduring rain, mud, and knee-deep snow. When the 400-mile cattle drive finally ended, Davy expected to return home to Tennessee, but Seidler kept postponing the journey back. Days turned into weeks, and young Davy Crockett began to fear he might never see his family again. Imagine it's winter 1798. You're driving your wagon through Natural Bridge, Virginia. The road is already turning to slosh beneath your wagon wheels, and you see snow clouds gathering low over the mountains. If the storm breaks before you reach the next boarding house, you'll face a frigid night sleeping in the wagon, so you're eager to make progress. But as you round

a bend, you see a group of boys playing, rolling a hoop beside the road. As you pass them, you hear a shout, and you turn to see one of the boys is running alongside you. You can't be more than 13. Sir, mister, please wait, I need help. You pull lightly on the reins and slow your wagon to a stop. Look, young fellow, there's a storm coming in, and I need to get these horses to a stable. You best get inside yourself. You lift the reins, but before you can get the horses moving, boy speaks again. You wouldn't be Mr. Dunn by any chance. That I am. Who are you? My name's Davy Crockett, son of John Crockett. He owns a tavern on the Knoxville-Abingdon Road. I believe you know it. You study the boy's face for a moment, and then you recognize him. You've stayed at that tavern many times. Well, I'll be little Davy Crockett. What are you doing so far from home? Mr. Dunn, I need help. I've got no way back to Tennessee. I've been doing some work for Mr. Seiler, the drover. My contract's finished, but he doesn't seem in any hurry to take me home. He's holding you against your will? Not directly, sir. He's treating me nice enough, but he changes the subject whenever I ask him about going back to my family. He's even talking about putting me to work on some other jobs, and if I run off alone, I'm afraid he'll come after me. Ah, son, I sympathize. I truly do. but I'm a wagoner, not a rescue party. I've got deliveries waiting. Well, I wouldn't slow you down. I've hunted deer and bear since I was little. I can shoot, track, fish, and camp. I just helped Mr. Seiler drive 400 head of cattle across two states. Please, sir. You can see the boy is desperate, and if it was your own son out here, you would hope he'd find someone willing to come to his aid. Well, I might need some help with the horses if this snow keeps up, and I reckon I can't very well leave John Crockett's boys stranded in Virginia. Now, can I? You mean it? Climb on up, and I'll take you with me now. Thank you, Mr. Dunn. But much as I'd like to come with you now, I need to collect my things and the pay I've earned from Mr. Siler. But I reckon I can slip out later tonight. Um, oh, all right. I'll be staying at the boarding house west of town. If you can meet me there first thing tomorrow, I'll give you a ride home. But I won't wait around if you don't show. As I've said, I've got deliveries to me. Davy gives you an appreciative nod. I promise to be there, sir. Then he turns and hurries away, disappearing into the falling snow. As you continue up the road, you can't help but worry. You try to make yourself clear. If the boy doesn't make it to your lodgings by morning, you will have no choice but to leave him behind. When Davy Crockett had a chance encounter with a wagon trader on a road in Natural Bridge, Virginia, it was just the opportunity he needed to escape from the man he'd been hired out to, Jacob Siler. That night, he slipped away from the Siler house, then battled through falling snow in pitch-black darkness, arriving at the boarding house just as dawn broke. With the wagon trader's help, Davy returned home to Tennessee at last,

but he had little time to settle back into family life. At 13 years old, Davy still didn't know how to read or write, so his father, John, decided to send him to a nearby school. But a reluctant Davy soon began ditching his classes, preferring instead to spend his days in the woods. When John Crockett found out, he threatened to whip his son, chasing Davy out of the house, and rather than wait for his father's temper to cool, Davy ran away. This time he stayed gone for more than two years. Still barely a teenager, Davey hired himself out for foreign labor and cattle drives. He slept rough, learned how to bargain with strangers, and became increasingly comfortable surviving on his own, far from home. When he did return to Tennessee in 1802 at the age of 15, even his family barely recognized him. The skinny, runaway boy had become taller, broader, and far more confident. But as he got older, Crockett began to suspect his lack of education might be holding him back. So despite his earlier disdain for school, he began attending classes with a local schoolmaster several days every week. After six months of study, Crockett, now 17, went from being nearly illiterate to being able to read, write, and do basic arithmetic. And his new, if modest, academic skills gave him the confidence to approach a young woman named Polly Finley. She proved to be an ideal match for Crockett. Like him, she was tough, hardworking, and fiercely loyal to her family. The two married the following year in 1806, and they soon set up a small farm and started a family, eventually welcoming three children, two boys and a girl. Money was still frequently scarce, but thanks to Crockett's hunting skills, food was not. Jerked venison, wild turkey, and bear meat were often served at the family's dinner table. But while Crockett excelled as a hunter, he struggled as a farmer. Too often, he neglected his crops in favor of wandering the woods with his rifle and fishing rod. Before long, he fell behind on his taxes, and the family had to give up their home. So around 1810, the Crockett's moved to Franklin County, Tennessee, near the Alabama border. But like thousands of other settlers who crossed the frontier, the Crockett's were pushing deeper into the ancestral lands of local Native American tribes, like the Muscogee Creek. For years, pressure from white settlement had upended the lives of the Creek and other indigenous tribes in the region. Some tribal leaders believed their best hope for survival was to live harmoniously with the white people. They adopted aspects of white settler society, encouraged trade, and attempted diplomacy with the United States. But others believed compromise only invited destruction. These voices included the charismatic Shawnee leader Tecumseh. In 1811, Tecumseh traveled through the South, giving fiery speeches calling for resistance. A faction of the Muscogee Creek in southern Alabama called the Red Sticks took his warnings to heart and began preparing for hostilities.

And by the summer of 1813, the escalating tensions in the region finally boiled over at what became known as the Battle of Burnt Corn. On July 27th, in what is now southern Alabama, a force of 180 U.S. militiamen attacked a group of approximately 60 Red Stick warriors. Despite being vastly outnumbered, the Red Sticks managed to force the soldiers to retreat. Nevertheless, the Red Sticks considered the attack a declaration of war, and the following month, a force of approximately 1,000 Red Stick warriors attacked a nearby stockade called Fort Mims, killing hundreds of people sheltering inside, including women and children. In response to the carnage, panic swept through the southern frontier communities as settlers feared that more attacks were coming. Militia officers began calling for volunteers to fight against the Red Sticks, escalating the regional conflict that became known as the Creek War. Until this point, Davy Crockett had little interest in armed conflict. In fact, he later admitted that he had always believed he would be terrified if he ever faced combat. But the news of the violence at Fort Mims changed something inside him. He later wrote, my countrymen had been murdered, and I knew that the next thing would be that the Indians would be scalping the women and children all about there if we didn't put a stop to it. I instantly felt like going. Crockett's wife, Polly, begged her husband not to enlist. The family had only recently rebuilt their lives after years of uncertain finances. Their children were still young, and losing their sole breadwinner would be disastrous. But Crockett had made up his mind. As he later admitted, his dander was up, and nothing but war would bring it right again. So despite his wife's pleading, Davy Crockett picked up his rifle and said farewell to his young family. Not realizing, he was about to participate in one of the bloodiest conflicts the frontier had ever seen.

You there, tis I, Queen Mortuana of the Night Realm, a.k.a. Kate McKinnon, and her raven minion Jojo, a.k.a. Emily Lynn.

If you do not download and binge my show, Heads Will Roll, Air Apparent, on Audible,

I will cut off your head! Oh no, maybe just tell them about the guest stars like Richard Kind, Carrie Coon, Jimmy Fallon, at all. But they were in it, and if you don't listen to them,

then I will cut off your tongue, then cut off your head, and then put the tongue in the head hole. Aw, you tried. Listen now exclusively on Audible and Donald the Audible app today,

or off with your head!

I'm kidding.

and they try to do something with it. This is my attempt to take the Manifesto back from mass shooters and nihilists and return it to its rightful place with the warriors, the visionaries, the regular folks with just the right amount of crazy. I compare notes with radicals, secessionists, internet trolls out for a laugh, and punk singers screaming their guts out, all trying to turn their anger into the world they want to see. Listen to Manifesto wherever you get your podcasts. Audible subscribers can binge all episodes of Manifesto early and ad-free right now. Join Audible in the Audible app or by subscribing on Apple Podcasts.

Late in the summer of 1813, news of the violence at Fort Mims in Alabama swept across the American frontier. Settlers read terrifying and often exaggerated accounts of how the Red Stick faction of the Muscogee Creek Nation had overrun the fort and killed hundreds of soldiers and settlers. At a hastily arranged meeting in Winchester, Tennessee, militia officers called for volunteers to join a fighting force to march south and confront the Red Sticks. Among the first men to volunteer that day was Davy Crockett. The militia Crockett joined was under the command of General Andrew Jackson. Jackson was already one of the most powerful men in Tennessee. A wealthy cotton planter and slaveholder, he had first risen to prominence as Tennessee's representative in Congress before building a political empire through land speculation, military service, and plantation agriculture. Now he was leading a force to exact revenge on the red sticks. Jackson was hard-driving, fiercely ambitious, and notoriously quick-tempered, though as a leader he demanded absolute obedience. Crockett, meanwhile, was stubborn, self-reliant, and inclined to follow his own conscience rather than another man's orders. Nevertheless, Crockett embraced his role in the militia and volunteered to undertake dangerous scouting expeditions deep inside Creek territory. Thanks to his reputation as a hunter and woodsman, officers trusted him to track enemy movements through forests and swamps, and when food ran short, Crockett would hunt game and share it with his fellow militiamen. But the realities of war quickly shattered whatever romantic notions Crockett may have held about military glory. In November 1813, Crockett was part of the force that attacked the Creek town of Talis Hatchie. Militia and allied Cherokee fighters surrounded the village and slaughtered many of the Creek inhabitants while setting fire to their homes. During the fighting, Crockett helped set fire to a building where dozens of Red Stick warriors had taken shelter. Later, he recalled seeing the burned and mangled body of a young boy. This experience horrified him and stayed with him for the rest of his life. Years later, Crockett wrote simply, this closed my career as a warrior, and I am glad of it. But even if he'd lost his appetite for violence, the war was not yet over, and as it dragged on, Crockett and the rest of the militia were forced to endure brutal conditions, often marching through the freezing cold and surviving on dwindling rations. Through it all, their commander Andrew Jackson showed little sympathy for their plight, leading some volunteers to begin questioning their general's leadership. Imagine it's December 1813 and you're a militiaman standing guard on a narrow bridge spanning Alabama's Coosa River. Mist hangs over the water and frost clings to the planks beneath your boots. Beside you stand a dozen other soldiers under your command. As you shiver in the frigid air, you see a group of men emerging out of the fog. Their clothes are torn, their

faces gaunt, and many have wrapped rags around their feet in place of boots. It's clear from their appearance that they're fellow militia volunteers, men you've been fighting alongside for the past three months. Still, you have a job to do, so you straighten your back and address them. Halt. I have orders from General Andrew Jackson not to permit anyone to cross this bridge. Any man who tries will be fired upon. The bedraggled men stop just before the bridge. One of them steps forward, and you recognize him, a volunteer scout named David Crockett. You've spent many a night around a campfire listening to his tall tales and jokes, but right now there's no humor in Crockett's tired voice. Morning, friend. We would like to cross this bridge, ideally without providing target practice to you and your men. No, turn around, by order of your General, Andrew Jackson.

Well, I'm afraid we can't do that. This campaign isn't over. No, it may not be, but our enlistments are. We signed on for 60 days, and it's now closer to 90 that we can fight. That doesn't matter. The general says Tennessee still needs you. I don't doubt that, but what good are we to Tennessee in this condition? Weak? Hungry and cold? We aren't running away. We just want to go home, gather our strength, along with supplies and fresh horses. Crockett takes a step forward, and you raise your rifle. Several of your men do the same. Stop right there. Don't do this. If you try to cross, my men and I will open fire. You try to sound resolute, but you know your words sound hollow. Crockett studies you for a moment. Yeah, but would you open fire? Slowly, Crockett takes another step forward onto the bridge. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears, and the men around you tense. Then, from the riverbank behind you, comes a sharp snort of a horse. You glance back to see that your commander, Andrew Jackson, has arrived. He appears stone-faced, but even at a distance, you know exactly what he expects of you. This is your final warning, Crockett. Crockett gives Jackson a steely glare, then turns back to you. Hasn't enough blood been shed already? If you have any conscience in you, I beg you to stand down and just let us pass. For a long moment, nobody moves. You hear your men murmuring among themselves, and you think about Jackson. Then you think about the militia, your brothers in arms. Crockett is right. You're not here to execute your own over something as trivial as a bridge crossing. So slowly, you lower your rifle, and the soldiers around you do the same. Crockett and the other volunteers begin walking across the bridge. As Crockett passes you, he tips his hat. Thank you. Much, much obliged. You watch the column disappear into the fog on the far side of the river. Then you turn toward Andrew Jackson. The general says nothing, but the cold fury in his eyes tells you he won't forget this act of defiance. This confrontation on the bridge over Alabama's Coosa River stayed with Crockett long after he returned home. It was Crockett's first close look at Jackson's forceful and uncompromising style of leadership, and it would not be his last. Crockett returned home before the final major battle of the Creek War, the Battle of Horseshoe Bend in March 1814. There, militiamen killed hundreds of red-stick fighters, and without the unifying leader Tecumseh, who had died in an earlier battle, the remaining fragile alliance of Native American tribes soon fell apart. But even though the Creek campaign had given Crockett a distaste for war, he enlisted again only a few months later for a short campaign against British forces. For more than two years, beginning in June of 1812, Britain and America had been at war over a long-running dispute involving trade and territory,

and now the British were threatening to establish a foothold in Florida. Crockett's militia marched toward Pensacola, expecting a major confrontation. but by the time they arrived, the British had largely withdrawn. In the end, Crockett saw little combat and finally returned home for good in early 1815. But then, only months after being reunited with his family, tragedy struck. Crockett's wife, Polly, fell gravely ill and died. Crockett was devastated. Years later, he would describe his wife's death as the hardest trial which ever befell him. So suddenly, Crockett found himself alone with three young children, struggling to survive on a frontier homestead. So although he was grief-stricken, Crockett began courting a local widow named Elizabeth Patton, who was raising two children of her own. He began visiting her frequently, and before long, the two were married. Over the next several years, they expanded their household even further, welcoming another son and two daughters into their growing family. In 1817, the Crocketts moved to Shoal Creek in southern Tennessee, near lands recently purchased from the Chickasaw Nation. This was raw frontier territory, with little infrastructure and virtually no government. And at first, Crockett believed the scattered settlers could manage perfectly well without courts or government officials. But as more migrants settled in the area, so did what Crockett referred to as bad characters, people willing to steal livestock, cheat their neighbors, settle disputes with violence, and take advantage of a frontier that lacked even the most basic institutions of law. Concerned that the area was descending into chaos, Crockett and other local residents organized a rudimentary county government with magistrates and constables. Crockett himself became a justice of the peace. He also began several business ventures. He opened a grist mill, a powder mill, and a distillery on the banks of the river, which he funded by taking on debt. To run them, Crockett purchased enslaved people. Outside of his entrepreneurial pursuits, neighbors came to admire his work. his plain-spoken manner, his generosity toward his fellow struggling settlers, and his willingness to confront local elites directly, so that by 1821, friends were encouraging Crockett to run for a seat in the Tennessee legislature. Crockett had no real political experience and worried about his chances. But he quickly realized he didn't need to be a practiced politician to win over voters on the frontier. In fact, he discovered that they loved the idea of a rough backwoods hunter confronting polished politicians, so he leaned into the role and took an unusual approach to campaigning. At the time, many frontier men chewed tobacco constantly. Crockett discovered that a large hunting shirt with oversized pockets allowed him to carry both a bottle of liquor and generous twists of chewing tobacco. When meeting potential voters, Crockett would first offer them a drink. Before the man took a swig of the liquor, he would usually spit out his old tobacco plug so Crockett would hand the voter a fresh twist of tobacco from his pocket.

Crockett joked that he took this approach so that the voter would not be worse off than when I found him and I would be sure to leave him in a first-rate good humor. But when it came to discussing actual policies, Crockett didn't bother going into detail, instead relying on his ability to make voters feel like he was one of them. This strategy worked, and in August 1821, Crockett was elected to the Tennessee House of Representatives. But after arriving in what was then the state capital, Murfreesboro, Crockett encountered hostility from some of his fellow legislators who found him inexperienced and unsophisticated. One opponent mockingly referred to him as the gentleman from the cane, a reference to the thick cane thickets of rural Tennessee. But instead of bristling at the attack, Crockett immediately embraced the insult and his supporters loved it. But even as Crockett's political fortunes rose, his financial situation once again collapsed. In September 1821, a flash flood tore through Shoal Creek, destroying the mills at the heart of Crockett's fledgling businesses. In a matter of hours, years of work and investment vanished beneath the floodwaters. This disaster wiped out nearly everything he owned, leaving Crockett with no way to service his debts. So to satisfy his creditors, he surrendered what remained of his property, including his slaves. Now nearly penniless, Crockett, Elizabeth, and their children moved to an isolated cabin that he built himself on the O'Brien River in western Tennessee. His salary from the Tennessee legislature became the only thing keeping food on his family's table, and soon even that fragile lifeline would be in jeopardy, because Crockett was about to pick a fight with the most powerful man in Tennessee, his old general, Andrew Jackson.

I'm Alice Levine.

And I'm Matt Ford, and we're the hosts of British Scandal.

Yes, indeed. In this series, a Derbyshire couple are bored of their curtain-twitching, lawn-mowing suburban life.

So they sell their house, build a yacht, and sail off around the world.

Which sort of sounds idyllic until a sperm whale sinks their boat and they begin to starve.

Oh yes, and they didn't bring a radio, because real sailors don't use radios.

Right?

This is the story of Marilyn and Maurice Bailey.

And the 117 days they spent lost at sea.

Follow British Scandal wherever you get your podcasts, or listen early and ad-free on Audible.

I'm Alice Levine.

And I'm Matt Ford, and we're the hosts of British Scandal.

Yes, indeed. In this series, a Derbyshire couple are bored of their curtain-twitching, lawn-mowing suburban life.

So they sell their house, build a yacht, and sail off around the world.

Which sort of sounds idyllic until a sperm whale sinks their boat and they begin to starve.

Oh yes, and they didn't bring a radio because real sailors don't use radios.

Right?

This is the story of Marilyn and Maurice Bailey.

And the 117 days they spent lost at sea.

Follow British Scandal wherever you get your podcasts or listen early and at free on Audible.

By the summer of 1822, Davy Crockett had lost almost everything. His once-promising mill and distillery business had been wiped out by a flood. Meanwhile, the U.S. economy had suffered a major financial collapse. Years of rampant land speculation, runaway lending, and an influx of cheap European goods had resulted in an economic downturn known as the Panic of 1819. It sent shockwaves across the country. banks failed, land values plummeted, and already poor settlers across Tennessee found themselves drowning in debt. Crockett could easily sympathize with their plight, and as a legislator, he positioned himself as their champion. But every vote he cast on their behalf earned him an enemy among Tennessee's political and business elite. It was a streak of independence that would come back to bite him in 1823, when he found himself in conflict with his former commander in the militia, Andrew Jackson. Jackson had left active military service and was now seeking election to the United States Senate, which he saw as a stepping stone to his ultimate goal, the presidency. At the time, most Tennessee politicians fell in line behind Jackson, intimidated by his formidable personality and ruthless ambition. But Crockett refused to tow the party line. He believed the incumbent senator from Tennessee, John Williams, had honestly discharged his duty and deserved to remain in office, so he openly opposed Jackson's campaign. Jackson won and took the Senate seat, but he would never forget Crockett's slight. And not long after Jackson's victory, Crockett himself started to harbor greater political ambitions. He ran for a seat in the House of Representatives on a platform arguing for the right of settlers to purchase the land they had improved, a popular stance amongst the many frontier inhabitants of Tennessee. And in 1827, he was elected to Congress. From the moment he arrived in Washington, Crockett made an immediate impression. Reporters came to love his colorful speeches and rough-hewn wit, quickly making Crockett one of the most recognizable members of Congress. But in the halls of the Capitol, Crockett's brash, confrontational style won him few political allies. Then, in 1829, Jackson finally achieved his ambition to become President of the United States. At first, Crockett tried to put aside their past disagreements. He still believed they shared certain principles, like standing up for ordinary Americans. But Crockett became increasingly uncomfortable with the cult of personality that surrounded Jackson. Matters came to a head when Jackson unveiled the centerpiece of his presidency, a bill so repugnant to Crockett that he felt compelled once again to defy Jackson and his powerful political machine. Imagine it's May 1830. You're standing inside a crowded Washington tavern near the Capitol. Every table around you is occupied. Congressmen argue over tankards of ale, newspaper editors scribble notes,

pipe smoke hangs thick beneath the rafters. Tomorrow, the House will vote on Andrew Jackson's signature policy the Indian Removal Act. Most of Tennessee's congressional delegation supports the bill, except for one man who's currently standing alone by the fireplace, David Crockett. You exchange a glance with your fellow Tennessee Congressman James Polk and make your way across the room. Crockett is warming his hands beside the fire, and a half-empty mug rests on the mantle. David Crockett, we've been looking for you. Is it true you're planning to vote against the removal act? Well, if that's what you've heard, then you have heard correctly. How can you be serious? You know better than anyone that the tribes have to move. You're frontier through and through. You fought the Indians and lost kin to their viciousness. Surely you're tired of sleeping with one eye open in case a raid falls upon your home and family. Well, these tribes were once powerful nations that posed an awful danger. But now they're poor remnants of a people who've been wronged again and again. We agreed to treaties with them. A promise ought to mean something. If we turn a deaf ear to them now, all that's left for them is misery. By our most recent count, the vote is nearly split down the middle. With the northern states uniting against it, if we frontier folk can't count on each other, then we will fail. Don't let your sympathy for the Indians cloud your judgment about what's best for your voters. Well, it's not sympathy alone that makes me against this vial act. It's also this notion that because Andrew Jackson wants something, every man in Washington ought to fall in line behind him. You don't trust Jackson? I didn't trust him when he almost had me shot on a bridge in Alabama, and I don't trust him now. You glance toward Polk. He has an exasperated look on his face. Crockett, are you willing to throw away your career over this? The administration will never forgive it, nor, I suspect, will your constituents. No, I expect they won't. Then why do it? For a moment, Crockett watches the flames dance in the fireplace. Well, it's because I'll be damned if I'll wear a collar around my neck that says Andrew Jackson's dog. The fire crackles between you. Then you glance back toward Polk and he gives a solemn shake of his head. The conversation is over. You weave your way back through the crowded tavern, wondering whether you're about to witness the political downfall of the most famous frontiersman in America. On May 26, 1830, Crockett was one of 97 representatives to vote against the Indian Removal Act. Among the entire Tennessee delegation, he stood alone in opposing it. The final vote was close, but with 102 in favor, the act passed. Crockett described it as wicked and unjust, and over the following decade, tens of thousands of indigenous Americans, including members of the Muscogee Creek. Greek, Cherokee, Choctaw, and Chickasaw nations were forced from their ancestral lands. Thousands died from disease, starvation, and exposure during their long march westward

on what became known as the Trail of Tears. Back home, in Tennessee, many of Crockett's constituents did see his vote as a betrayal, and the political cost was swift. Jackson's allies worked to undermine Crockett, funding hostile newspaper attacks and rallying support behind his opponents. As a result, in 1831, Crockett lost his seat in Congress. He stood up for what he believed and found himself cast into the political wilderness for it. But still defiant, he returned home to his cabin in Obion and immersed himself in the world he knew best, hunting and fishing in the wilderness. For most politicians, this kind of vanishing act would mark the end of their career. But in Crockett's case, it only stoked public interest. Newspapers speculated about his whereabouts and recounted his old stories. And then in 1831, one of the country's leading Shakespearean actors, James Henry Hackett, sponsored a competition for an original American comedy he could star in. The winning play was called The Lion of the West, and the lead character, Nimrod Wildfire, was unmistakably based on Crockett. The play opened to enthusiastic audiences in New York, and although it gently mocked Crockett's talent for building his own myth, it also served to further amplify his celebrity. Crockett himself attended a performance in Washington as the guest of honor, and when Hackett strode onto the stage in buckskin, he turned and bowed directly to Crockett. Crockett rose and bowed back as the audience cheered. This continued public attention encouraged Crockett to attempt a political comeback, and in 1833 he won a seat in Congress once again. But after two years without an income, Crockett needed to rebuild his finances. So the following year, in 1834, he published his autobiography. He traveled extensively to promote it, telling stories, meeting admirers, and further cultivating his public image. The book became a bestseller. But this success came at a cost. Crockett spent more time promoting his book than tending to his legislative duties, and his constituents took note. In 1835, he lost his re-election bid. With this latest defeat, Crockett's political career appeared finished for good. The money from his book was drying up, and he was becoming openly bitter towards the political process. As he later recalled, I told the people that I would serve them as faithfully as I had done, but if not, they might go to hell, and I would go to Texas. At the time, Texas was a part of a vast territory that belonged to Mexico. But Anglo-American settlers had been pouring into the area for years, drawn by generous land grants from the Mexican government. And for men like Crockett, whose political and financial fortunes had faltered back home, Texas promised a chance to start over. So in late 1835, at the age of 49, Crockett set out for Texas, looking for adventure and new opportunities that might allow him to secure his family's future. But earlier that same year, Mexican President Antonio López

de Santa Ana had begun taking steps to strengthen his authority in Texas, which many Anglo-American settlers saw as a threat to their freedoms. By year's end, they were rebelling against him. And to build their forces, rebel leaders promised thousands of acres of land to volunteers in return for joining their cause. Initially, Crockett only intended to explore Texas and see what prospects it might offer, but the promise of a generous land grant if the uprising succeeded likely helped persuade him to join the revolutionaries. In early February 1836, Crockett arrived in San Antonio to help defend a former Catholic mission known as the Alamo. There, he joined a small band of rebels that included the joint commanders of the garrison, Jim Bowie, a frontier adventurer whose name was already synonymous with the large knife he carried, and William Barrett Travis, a former lawyer who'd fled his mounting debts in Alabama and became one of the leading advocates for overthrowing Santa Ana's government in Texas. But even among these fighters, Crockett stood out. By this point, he was one of the most recognizable men in America, and news of his arrival spread quickly through the garrison. Still, fame would be of no use to Crockett only two weeks later, when roughly 2,000 Mexican troops surrounded the Alamo, led by Santa Ana himself. As Mexican artillery pounded the mission's crumbling walls, Crockett tried to rally morale, but he and the other men inside the Alamo were outnumbered by nearly 10 to 1, and cut off from reinforcements, they faced increasingly dire conditions. The siege lasted an agonizing 13 days. Finally, on March 6, 1836, as the first light of dawn crept across the Texas sky, the Mexican troops advanced on the mission from all sides. Within hours, the Alamo fell, and so did most of its 200 or so defenders, including Davy Crockett. History surrounds exactly how Crockett died at the Alamo, whether he was captured and executed, or as some would later claim, he went down fighting in a blaze of glory. But his death only served to immortalize him in the eyes of the American public. From 1835 onward, the wildly popular Crockett Almanac mixed history and fantasy, chronicling ever more outrageous adventures. Over a century later, he was immortalized in a popular Walt Disney film called Davy Crockett, King of the Wild Frontier. During his lifetime, Davy Crockett was prone to mythologizing his own exploits as one of the first nationally recognized figures of the American frontier. So it's fitting that now, even two centuries later, his name remains synonymous with America's westward expansion, and that it's almost impossible to separate the man from the legend. From Audible Originals, this is Episode 1 of Frontier Legends for American History Tellers. In the next episode, after the Civil War, as White Settlement reshapes the American West, one man comes to embody the chaos and violence of that transformation, the gunfighter, scout, and frontier marshal, Wild Bill Hickok.

coming to a theater near you, go to NotThatLindseyGraham.com. That's NotThatLindseyGraham.com. If you'd like to learn more about the life of Davy Crockett, we recommend David Crockett, The Lion of the West by Michael Wallace. American History Tellers is hosted, edited, and produced by me, Lindsey Graham for Airship. This episode is written by Adam Skuse, edited by Dorian Marina, senior producers Alita Rosansky and Andy Herman, Managing Producer Desi Blaylock Audio Editing by Mohamed Shazib Music by Thrum Sound Design by Molly Bach Executive Producer for Audible Jenny Lauer Beckman Head of Creative Development at Audible Kate Naven Head of Audible Originals North America Marshall Louis Chief Content Officer Rachel Giazza Copyright 2026 by Audible Originals, LLC Sound Recording Copyright 2026 by Audible Originals, LLC

Thank you.