Two Faces in Contrast: Buffalo Bill

I was thinking about things this weekend, trying to look at the big picture, when a whim, like a sneaky gremlin, forced my fingers to type a name into Google.

Buffalo Bill.

I'd  heard a little about Buffalo Bill growing up, but not much. I grew up on the Florida coast, and at school, the teachers were more apt to talk about the up and coming pro surfer, Kelly Slater (who lived a town or two down with me--I used to surf with his brother), than about history or math or anything useful.

What I'd mostly heard was that he was the reason for the near extinction of the buffalo, and that he wasn't a good guy.

Well, I found a website last night that made me realize how complex we humans are (www.codyarchive.org). There is a dual nature in every single one of us. As a Christian, I believe that, However, I am not so pious as to deny that I am capable of a wrong decision, a stupid mistake, or all around blowing it. I'm human, and Buffalo Bill Cody was, too.

He was born William Frederick Cody in Iowa in 1846, and became an adult at the tender age of 11, when his father died and he was faced with a hard decision. He was now the man of the farm, and he took that responsibility seriously. He went to work as a cattle driver, a helper on Westward bound wagon trains, and a rider for the Pony Express.

After that, he joined the Calvary, where he earned his famous nickname after killing over 4,000 buffalo to help feed the railroad workers. And from there, he went on to many other ventures and adventures, including his spectacularly famous "Wild West Show," which toured the US and Europe.

He obviously wasn't short on confidence, but who was he, really? Who was the real man under the pomp and attitude?

Buffalo Bill seems to have flown by the seat of his pants, his brain way far ahead of his body. I read the surviving letters we have from him to various people, and he appears to make excuses of why he can't have people over, or why he can't visit, or why he can't do this or that at the present time. He was just too busy. I get a feeling he spent a LOT of time coming up with new posters for his show, because there are tons of them:

Cut to "Cat's in the Cradle." Except this ending is much, much sadder. Buffalo Bill's only son, Kit, comes down with Scarlet Fever, and Bill knew it was bad. We see the soft side of Bill come out, and you can hear the heartbreak in his words as he writes his sister to inform her of the death of his beloved son:

"...God has taken from us our only little Boy. He was to good for this world. We loved him to dearly he could not stay. God wanted him where he could live in a better world. So he sent the angel of death. to take whe the treasure that he had given us five years and five months ago. and how dear he had grown to us in that time. And when we seen that there was dainger of him leaving us how we all clung to him. And prayed God not to take from us our little boy...And now his place is vacant and can never never be filled. for he has gone to be a beautiful angel in that better world. where he will wait for us. every one will know him there...We will have no trouble in finding him when we are there. for every one will know our Kitty. The messenger seems not to have been satisfied by plucking the brighte flower. and is still hovering near by. thinking whether he shall take the others or not. for the same fever...But with Kitty it claimed him from the first...I was hundreds of miles away when. Lulu telegraphed me. and I only got home a few hours before Kitty died. he could not speak. but he put his little arms around my neck. as much as to say. Papa has come."

Hundreds of miles away. My heart breaks.

But Bill was soon back to work, and from his letters, it appears that he desperately sought wealth, but also something else. He loved being the center of attention and loved the things that money could buy. However, there's something else in those letters--a vulnerability, a desperate wish that he should not be a failure. A desperate urgency to do whatever it took to provide for his family.

He was certainly a colorful character, often calling his friends and business partners "Old Pard," and writing in the way the actors in cheesy Westerns talk. He appears to have lived life in a perpetual whirlwind of his own design. However, something can come along that stops us in our tracks. It slams you in the face and throws you to the ground while screaming, "WAKE UP!"

This seems to have happened to Buffalo Bill. After a parade of his Wild West Show through Boston, he received a letter from a little boy who didn't see the parade because he was too sick (spinal troubles) to get out of his bed at a children's hospital. The letter was simple, and all the boy asked was that Buffalo Bill send him a picture of an Indian.

Buffalo Bill did better, and here is an except from a newspaper of what happened:

"...The important missive was mailed and even the impatient little invalid knew it was useless to expect an answer that day. The morning had hardly dawned before the child's bright eyes were open...The nurse hardly dared to hope that a busy man like Buffalo Bill would have time to respond to the wish of a sick child. "Colonel Cody is a very busy man," she said. "We must be patient."

At perhaps the twentieth repetition of this remark the door opened noiselessly. In came a six-foot Indian clad in leather trousers and wrapped in a scarlet blanket. He wore a headdress of tall, waving feathers and carried his bow in his hand.

The little invalids gasped in wonder, then they shrieked with delight. One by one, silent and noiseless but smiling, six splendid warriors followed the first...So unusual a sight in the orderly hospital so startled the nurse that she could not even speak. The warriors drew up in a line and saluted her. The happy children were shouting in such glee that the poor woman's fright was unnoticed.

The Indians ranged themselves in the narrow space between the cots, laid aside their gay blankets, placed their bows upon the floor, and, waving their arms to and fro, executed a quiet war dance. A sham battle was fought, followed by a song of victory. After this the blankets were again donned, the kindly red men went away, still smiling as benignly as their war paint would allow them to do. A cheer of gratitude and delight followed them down the broad corridors. The happy children talked about Buffalo Bill and the Wild West show for weeks after this visit. —Last of the Great Scouts."

Isn't that amazing? I can picture the mayhem of laughter and smiles that must have been rare in such a place. I bet there wasn't a dry eye in the place among the nurses witnessing this miraculous event.

I think Buffalo Bill must have been thinking of his own son as he read that little boy's letter. Maybe he regretted being too busy to spend as much time with his son as he would have liked. I'm fairly certain he wished he'd had more time to show his son the mystery and wonder of the majestic Indians. I think that little boy's letter smacked him right in the face, and made him stop in his tracks. He made a decision to not be too busy to respond to this little boy.

So, yes, Buffalo Bill was pretty cocky. He made bad decisions, he made good decisions. He made mistakes in the course of his success. He was a showman, but he lived the life he portrayed "on stage." He wasn't all smoke and mirrors, despite what history reports. I would encourage you all to take a look at this website. His letters reveal humanity, vulnerability, compassion and tons of passion, all combined to make him just like me and you. His letters show that all of us, in a way, are two-faced.