Louis Kraft’s upcoming books: Errol Flynn & Olivia de Havilland lead the way

Website & blogs © Louis Kraft 2013-2024

Contact Kraft at writerkraft@gmail.com or comment at the end of the blogs


First, an ad for Kraft’s next blog,
which, as usual, will be long and detailed
(that is not this blog, as it isn’t a book)

This is the 20-pound bronze Wrangler that LK won for Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway in 2021. I won my first Wrangler Award in 2012. (photo © Louis Kraft 2022)

I haven’t written and posted a blog since September 2020 due to my ongoing work preparing for the first two deliveries to the new Louis Kraft Collection at the University of New Mexico’s Center for Southwest Research & Special Collections (UNM CSWR). Pailin and I made the first delivery in a large rented Dodge Minivan in June 2021. Tomas Jaehn is the director of this huge and unbelievable archive. He flew to SoCal in December 2021, and in a rented SUV picked up the second delivery. He will also pick up a third (and smaller) delivery on 25apr2022.

The scope of the LK Collection at UNM CSWR is unbelievable, and is by far the greatest honor this writer will ever receive.

It includes not only my writing life, but my entire life including family documents that date back the end of the 19th century, restored photos, and memoir material. The photos all have captions identifying people and events and are delivered as 8×10 inch glossies and digital copies.

But it doesn’t end with just myself, my family, and my professional life, for it also includes key people in my life as well as what I have collected over the years. This includes in part an 1856 daguerreotype of Ned Wynkoop when he was 16 as well as a small ivory calendar that he owned (he has played a huge role in my writing and later acting life); Chiricahua Apache mystic and war leader Geronimo’s signature; photos and art with signatures ranging from Brooklyn Dodgers baseball great Duke Snider and my favorite player of all time Bill Buckner to Tex Ritter and Alan Jackson to Errol Flynn to 20+ letters from Olivia de Havilland, and film stars Gong Li, Val Kilmer, and Olga Kurylenko, to mention a few (still to be delivered); as well as over 300 posters (one-sheets, half sheets, inserts, and lobby cards), many of which I had restored and mounted on linen. There is also an Errol Flynn and Olivia de Havilland Collection, and it grows with each delivery.

The year 2021 was also a great year for my last published book, Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway (University of Oklahoma Press, 2020), as it won two best nonfiction awards:

  • Western Heritage Museum’s Wrangler Award (which is major)
  • Colorado Authors’ League Award

Photo of Pailin Subanna Kraft & Louis Kraft just before entering the second banquet at the National Cowboy and Western Heritage Museum’s Wrangler Awards four-day event on 18sept2021. During the first banquet on the 17th Bruce Boxleiltner sat with us at our table, and then introduced me on stage when I accepted the Wrangler for Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway. We had hung out together in 2012 when I won my first Wrangler and he was inducted into the Western Heritage Cowboy Hall of Fame. (photo © Pailin Subanna Kraft & Louis Kraft 2021)

Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway was life changing for me as former University of Oklahoma Press editor-in-chief Chuck Rankin said to me after it was published: “This is your masterpiece!” Regardless if it is or not, it felt good for after almost three years of us discussing how I wanted to write the manuscript he agreed. And it was a challenge to fit everything together in a linear fashion, bring the leading and supporting players to life, while completing a book wherein I delivered it with the final agreed upon word count. Not once, but twice I cut over 60,000 words from the manuscript.

I can’t tell you how many wanna-be historians stuff their error-riddled fabricated pieces of crap that they pack with fiction disguised as fact exist. One of these wanna-be she-wolves with bottle in hand will dance in the street in delight if I die before her … I mean him … oh hell, I don’t know what this she-wolf is.

I don’t know when my next blog will go live, but it won’t be soon. … Don’t worry for it won’t feature any she-wolves.

Now to this blog …

My wonderful bro Glen Williams took this great image (right) of LK in May 2012. For me it represents exiting the past and walking into the future. In my dedication for Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway (2020) I wrote: “For Glen Williams, my brother throughout time. Our friendship began in 1990 in a software company, and he soon became my best male friend ever. Our relationship has experienced a world of change that neither he nor I ever dreamed possible, but we have survived it. He is with me in life as he will be in deathforever linked.” Glen died on August 26, 2020, and my life has been a lot lonelier ever since.

(photo © Louis Kraft & Glen Williams 2012)

Perhaps an LK explanation would be nice

With my life, and my life expectancy, my upcoming books are my writing life. This portion of my future has been a long-time coming, and the shift in direction has been in my vision for decades. This means a number of things. ..

No more articles (I’m sick of my pitches being accepted and then an editor tells me he wants Gatewood,  Geronimo, or Custer articles—that’s past tense, as I don’t write about them any longer … not quite true with Mr. Custer (see below). Most likely there will be no more talks unless I receive my former fee of $750.00 and all expenses; no more writing for the software world and they eventually paid me six figures (I’m still approached multiple times each week) as I’m no longer Scrooge McDuck (of Donald Duck and Walt Disney fame). … This said, and when I quit the entertainment world cold turkey in the mid-1980s, I made it clear that I’d never act again. Oops! “Never say never,” at least for me, for in the first decade of this century I wrote four versions of a one-man show on Ned Wynkoop that played in Kansas, California, Colorado, and Oklahoma, and then a full-length play, Cheyenne Blood, that played for five weeks in Southern California. … What’s in my future? I don’t know.

Hopefully Olivia de Havilland enjoyed—as much as possible—her 104th birthday. I have every intention of enjoying my 104th birthday.

Key questions

As the years flash by at lightning speed there are two things that I now always ask myself:

  • Will I read the book or primary source material again for pleasure?
  • Do I need the book or primary source material for research?

If the answer is not “yes” to either question, the book/publication or primary source material has to go.

The Louis Kraft book list

The first three books in this list are most likely in the correct order, but after that it will probably turn into a flip of a coin numerous times before the following story ideas are ordered correctly.

Errol & Olivia (nonfiction)
This book has been in development since the mid-1990s. In case you didn’t know it, I’m “slow Kraft.” During this time the scope of Errol & Olivia has grown. This is good, as this manuscript will now include key events in their lives during the 1940s that are important.

Bragging aside, I have more primary source information about Mr. Flynn and Ms. de Havilland than I have for any of my Indian wars race relation books. For the record I have a ton on George Armstrong Custer; Lt. Charles Gatewood/Geronimo/Apaches; Ned Wynkoop/Cheyennes; and the Sand Creek massacre including Cheyennes/Arapahos, whites who married into the tribes, their offspring, whites who craved Indian land at all costs, and the few whites who spoke out against the sexual mutilation of human beings books, … meaning I have an EF & OdeH goldmine.

LK introducing my then girlfriend Diane Moon to Olivia de Havilland at an Academy of Motion Picture Arts & Sciences (Beverly Hills, California) on 15jun2006. There’s a story here. Hell, there’s always story in LK’s life. Do I tell it here? No, for it will be in Errol & Olivia. (photo © Louis Kraft 2006)

I enjoyed a 20-year letter correspondence with Olivia, and she invited me to her Paris, France, home twice to spend time with her and to interview her, as well as inviting me to the Academy of Motion Pictures Arts & Sciences gala when they honored her life and career. A large portion of my research on her and Mr. Flynn (and I have more on EF) is now housed at the LK Collection at the University of New Mexico’s Center for Southwest Research & Special Collections (it is the largest collection of them in the USA).*

Oh yeah Kraft knows the sword. I had planned on using art of Errol Flynn here, but got tired seeing my art stolen and then see it all over the internet. No one’s going to steal this collage for they couldn’t give a bleep about Kraft handling a blade. I will deal with EF’s swordplay in the books. I know that some people aren’t interested in this. I am, so they lose. This line of thought didn’t last long, for there is art of EF directly below. (all images © Louis Kraft 1970s & 1982)

* Any archival information I have, such as from the USC Warner Bros. Archives (Los Angeles, California), Arizona Historical Society (Tucson), or Colorado Historical Society (Denver), and so on, including photocopies, PDFs, and photos, belongs to the archive that I obtained it from and it can never be in the Louis Kraft Collection at UNM CSWR (not catalogued or available to the public yet) or in the first Louis Kraft Collection at the Chávez History Library, Museum of New Mexico, Santa Fe (created in 2002).

I changed my mind from the above caption as I’m certain that this image will not appear in my books. Flynn and Livvie (as Errol and others called Olivia) made their last film together in 1941—They Died with Their Boots On (Warner Bros.). Flynn played Custer and Olivia played Elizabeth Bacon Custer (“Libbie”). I have much to say about this film and their lives while working on it. (art ©  Louis Kraft 2013)

As with my last four Indian wars books Errol & Olivia will be published by a university press. The reason is simple: University presses strive to eliminate errors while including notes that allow their readers to locate and view the authors’ research whereas popular presses reprint errors ad nauseam while also printing new errors that will also be reprinted by writers too lazy to do real research.

My Flynn/de Havilland collection is locked down until this book and Errol Flynn: The Defining Decade are published or December 31, 2031, whichever comes first.

**********

The next book is fiction, and thereafter there is more fiction in my future than nonfiction (I know, pure heresy) but I’m a writer. I have written screenplays, plays, talks, articles, and books, not to mention 20 years writing for the software world. I have always been in control of my writing life (and even when writing technical documentation). Here’s two examples:

Louis Kraft at the Western Heritage Wrangler Awards event in April 2012. This photo was taken shortly before the book signing on the afternoon of the twentieth.

In 2011 Wild West magazine sent me a proof of my article, “When Wynkoop was Sheriff.” When I saw it I called photo editor Lori Fleming, and told her to enlarge my art of Ned Wynkoop on the first page of the article as it was dinky and the story was about him. She told me that the issue had already been designed and there was no room. I told her to remove one of the two images of Rocky Mountain News editor William Byers that I had supplied, and she told me “no.” “Fine,” I said, “kill the article for you will no longer publish it.” There was a long pause. “You call Greg, and talk to him!” she screamed and hung up. Greg was/is editor of Wild West, Gregory Lalire. I didn’t call. A few days later he called me and said, “I hear you have a problem.” “No, I don’t have a problem, but Lori does.” I told Greg what I wanted, and he said, “I’ll take care of it.” He did and “When Wynkoop was Sheriff” won my first Wrangler Award.

In 1990 when I landed my first writing job in the software world at Infonet Services Corporation I quickly realized that the only thing the other technical writer did was edit engineer copy when provided. Otherwise he spent his time on the phone with his girlfriend. I couldn’t believe what I saw. On my third day on the job I walked into documentation manager Howard Burnaugh’s office and told him that I needed the software for the product I’d be writing about on my computer. “Why?” “How can I write about a product when I don’t know how to use it?” I then added that I wanted a list of all the engineers that I’d be working with—two days later Howard provided both to me.

**********

Navajo Blood (fiction)
Before saying a word about this story that has been dormant since the mid-1990s, I was in the process of preparing yet another delivery to the LK Collection in the Chávez History Library, when I uncovered a polished draft of my novel and all the accompanying documentation.

I prepped it for that delivery, but it never happened as Tomas Jaehn’s pitch to create a second LK Collection ended my deliveries to Santa Fe. … Am I a traitor/deserter to the first LK Collection? Maybe, but the newly created LK Collection at UNM CSWR is, and will forever be, the greatest honor bestowed upon this writer who learned his craft by the seat of his pants.

Marissa Kraft sitting near a ledge on the north side of the three canyons that are known as Canyon de Chelly on the Navajo Reservation on 7aug2012. In the background is Navajo Fortress Rock, which is a key set piece for Navajo Blood . This was her third, and my fourth extended trip to the Canyon de Chelly National Monument, and the only national monument not on USA land. (photo © Marissa & Louis Kraft 2012)

Changing focus, in June 2019 my daughter Marissa Kraft and  I enjoyed a work and R&R trip to Tucson, Arizona, a city that I fell in love with in the 1970s, when my first wife and I spent a lot of time with her brother and his bride while he attended the University of Arizona. I can’t begin to tell you how much time I’ve spent there, but my research for the two Gatewood/Geronimo/Apache books kept me there for many months, and it is easily over six and a half months throughout the years. …

That 2019 June in Tucson Marissa and I saw and spent time with friend/literary agent Cherry Weiner at the Western Writers of America convention. We didn’t attend the event, but instead mingled with it at the hosting hotel. The polished genre draft of Navajo Blood was 65,000 words, and since discovering it I had been thinking about increasing its size by 35,000 words to make it an historical novel. Cherry totally agreed and might be interested. … The goal here is to add more Navajo words, culture, and mysticism, as well as more dialogue, character development, and action.

Colonel Kit Carson (right) receiving his orders from Brigadier General James Carleton in 1863 to launch a war against the Navajos, an assignment he didn’t want as the Diné were his friends. This is a detail of art displayed at the Bosque Redondo Memorial Museum in southeastern New Mexico. This museum is magnificent, and puts many national historic sites in the USA to shame.

The leading players are a Diné (as the Navajos call themselves) warrior, his granddaughter, Kit Carson, and his family during the early 1860s. I’ve shared more in the past, but not here. I will easily complete and polish a 100,000-word draft while continuing primary-source research on Errol Flynn: The Defining Decade.

Navajo Blood is also locked down at the Louis Kraft Collection, UNM CSWR, until it is published or December 31, 2031, whichever comes first, per my contract.

Errol Flynn: The Defining Decade (nonfiction)

I discovered Errol Flynn while in elementary school about two years before he died on 14oct1959. He grabbed my attention then, and believe it or not he has never let go. I’m going to say a few words that are probably in total disagreement with what has circled the news media, the internet, and in way too many publications since 1980 when Charles Higham’s heinous and untrue biography, Errol Flynn: The Untold Story, was published. In the United States you can defame the dead. In Canada you cannot defame the dead, meaning that in the USA Higham got away with murdering EF’s life and legacy. Not so in Canada where Higham’s despicable book was also published. Flynn’s two daughters Deidre and Rory with his second wife Nora Eddington sued him there. To avoid going to count Higham never again traveled to Canada during in his lifetime.

I hate to say it but there are other books as despicable as Higham’s or worse.

LK’s art based upon a 2009 photo taken at her home in Paris, France, in July 2009. Believe it or not years back a person accused me of creating this false piece of art us as I didn’t know Olivia. (art © Louis Kraft 2013)

For what it is worth, Olivia shared only a few thoughts about Higham’s book on EF or his book on her and her sister film star and Oscar winner Joan Fontaine. I share her thoughts on Higham in Errol & Olivia. Beyond that, she refused to talk.

As stated above more archival research is still needed and it is ongoing as time permits. The title says it all, and, God willing, I’ll see it published. Sorry, no more information at this point in time as there are thieves out there who would love to steal my story idea and publish long before I do.

My Flynn/de Havilland collection is locked down until this book and Errol & Olivia are published or December 31, 2031, whichever comes first.

Everything that follows will be determined when it is time to choose a follow-up book to Mr. Flynn. .. At the same time I’m wondering how much I can share of upcoming fiction without giving away too much of the plots.

LK Memoir (nonfiction)
This has been an announced project a decade or more back. Will it ever be written? I don’t know but hope so. There’s been a lot of failure, a lot of tragedy, a lot of special people, a lot of idiots (including a racist pig—my view of this piece of slim isn’t printable), a lot of incidents that will make you cheer or laugh or cry or scream or cringe. Say it “ain’t” so LK! Alas, ’tis so. …

The LK Collection at UNM CSWR includes a large section called “Louis Kraft Memoir,” and it grows with each delivery. It includes everything from notes documenting an event to historical documents, such as my father’s discharge from the U.S. Marine Corps on 1aug1946 to a package of hair with one word on the outside of the 8½ x 11″ manilla envelope that proclaimed “SHAME” in large red letters that made me thrilled that I lived on the West Coast while the lady who sent me the package lived on the East Coast as the threat was real.

My beautiful wife Pailin Subanna Kraft at the end of our Thanksgiving dinner on 25nov2021. I have just completed preparing this image of her with a caption for the third delivery to the LK Collection at UNM CSWR on April 25. Oh, the second portion of the dedication in Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway stated: “And for Pailin Subanna-Kraft, my lady, best friend, wife, and love, who has accepted my life and world without question. Without her I would have no life.” After she became a U.S. citizen in 2020 she removed the hyphen from her last name and made “Subanna” her middle name. (photo © Pailin Subanna Kraft & Louis Kraft 2021)

I was working on the third LK Collection delivery to UNM during the Oscar telecast on 27mar2022, but had a link for “Oscar Winners” on the internet so during breaks I could see what was happening. On live TV Jada Pinkett Smith was verbally insulted/attacked before a global audience. This was not an ad-lib by any stretch of the imagination. No! It was heinous in its intent and Will Smith walked onto the stage and slapped Chris Rock on the face and then returned to his seat where he later yelled: “Keep my wife’s name out of your fucking mouth!” Mr. Smith has since taken a lot heat. On April 1st he resigned from the Academy of Motion Picture Arts & Sciences. while humbly apologizing for his actions.

I understand his live apology when he accepted his Oscar for best actor, again the following day, online, and his announcement on April 1st. He’s a real human being, and I have nothing but praise for him. On April 8 the Academy banned Smith from all events (not their wording) for 10 years. Will Smith had the perfect response: “I accept and respect the Academy’s decision.” … When your lady, your wife, you loved one is verbally assaulted as Jada was, or as my beautiful wife Pailin has been, it is totally unacceptable. …

Pailin didn’t learn of Will Smith defending his wife until the following morning when she saw the news on a Thai broadcast. I was working on the delivery to UNM and was at my computer when she asked me what I would do? I followed her into the kitchen, and when she turned back to me I swung at an invisible figure with an open hand. She grabbed me with joy and we shared a long hug as I would defend her in the flesh against some of the heinous insults that have been directed at her and myself, and they will be in the memoir.

In Errol Flynn’s great autobiography/memoir he attempted to tell the truth—good or bad—but it was mostly (not all; but mostly) from his memory. There are some errors (and not all were created by him; read his publisher or ghost writer). How many celebrity memoirs have you read? How many were total gloss-overs wherein the subject never cursed, never lied, never stole, never cheated, never did drugs, never was a racist? In other words they were God’s gift to humanity. The absolute perfect person. Errol got it right (however, if he had been living when it was published in late 1959 he could have been sued). If ever I write a memoir my goal will be to tell the truth.

Finally, and like Mr. Flynn, I need to be dead when this book is published as I don’t want to be confronted by a mob armed with guns, knives, bombs, and an army of lawyers.

Muse Eternal (fiction)
Archaeologist Olivia Mitchel uncovers a disturbing array of Anasazi bones at newly discovered ruins outside of Albuquerque, New Mexico. Close examination leads her to believe what she has found could be an example of ritualistic cannibalism. As this is heresy she keeps her discovery to herself.

This image was taken on 8sept1989 at Taos Pueblo, New Mexico. In this image my daughter Marissa is six and a half years old. At this point in time I may make Elsa, Olivia’s daughter, six while also considering making her 10 or 12. This decision is still floating on the wind. (photo © Marissa & Louis Kraft 1989)

Olivia, her daughter Elsa, and renown archeologist Charles Fairbanks go to Albuquerque for a weekend of R&R. Charles is Olivia’s mentor and lover. During their three days of partying Charles is invited to a banquet wherein the keynote speaker is a noted Indian wars historian. The evening of the event begins fabulously but ends on a sour note in the after hours when the writer named Jon Werner wins over Elsa while Olivia and Charles party with the elite of New Mexico. Later that night Olivia hesitantly presents her mutilated bone theory to Charles. He warns her that she is treading on dangerous ground. Many in the archeological field prefer the status quo of the Anasazi—that of the peaceful, sedentary people of legend. Olivia discounts the warning as little more than hidden jealousy.

The above is just a tad of what I already have in place with what could be a story that hopefully pops off the pages. Originally Werner was set to be a song writer/country singer but recently I changed him to a historian, as that will ease him into the plot with a personal interest in what is, or is not, happening.

This story is close to me; real close in ways I can never disclose. Because of this, Muse Eternal currently will become reality before The Land of the Heathen (at least at this moment). My view, these are two novels that I must complete and see published.

Land of the Heathen (fiction)

Land of the Heathen is based upon the Chinese presence on the Monterey peninsula and Stockton, California, in the 19th century. It deals with race relations during the 1880s, and yes it is a western. I have a lot of research already in-house, including an outline, synopsis, and character descriptions.

This photo of LK may represent the image that I use for Wade Hardin. (© Louis Kraft 1973)

Sheep herder Wade Hardin, brother Will, and his wife Emma defend their flock from white rustlers, but Will and his infant son are wounded. Hardin travels to Stockton to get a doctor and sell their sheep. To calm himself enters a saloon. Ling Cheng, a Chinese fisherman who was visiting friends, is pushed around by cattlemen. Normally, Hardin wouldn’t interfere, but still seething over the attack on his sheep he does and stands down the mob. Cheng departs, but Hardin is now seen as a Chinese lover and the town physician will not attend to his relatives and he receives no offers on the sheep.

When Hardin returns to camp, his young nephew is dead. Soon after cattle baron William (Billy) Johnson appears and offers a lowball amount of cash to buy the sheep. Although Johnson looks familiar Hardin accepts. He, Will, and Emma break camp and move south. At another Delta town, Hardin goes in alone for supplies. A celebrating Johnson is present and tells the sheep man, “I should have never paid for something I could have for free.” Hardin realizes that Johnson had raided his flock, and as he flees the cattle baron shouts out that Hardin “is in cahoots with the Chinese.”

Hardin finds Will murdered and Emma in shock. They flee toward Arizona but are tracked down. Hardin is shot, robbed, and  beaten. Just before Emma is raped she guts her attacker with a knife only to be shot to death. That night Hardin kills his guard and vanishes into the night on a stolen horse.

This image of Gong Li is from Zhou Yu’s Train (2004). Along with Olga Kurylenko, she is one of my top two actresses of all time. Mainly because both listen, react, and then speak. Way too many actors don’t do this. I’m using Li for my physical image of Tama.

Changing direction the wounded man rides toward the California Coast, eventually stumbling into a wooden shanty in Point Aloma, a Chinese enclave on the Monterey Peninsula. His arrival causes an uproar as the Chinese consider this white man a heathen, a devil, same as they do with all whites. Cheng arrives with news that the white devils hunt this heathen and that they make a gift of him.

An old man stands up for Hardin, as earlier he had seen him protect Cheng in the Stockton saloon. This brings the wrath of his Chinese brethren on him, but surprisingly Cheng agrees when white devils are seen riding toward the village.

Cheng hides Hardin in his house. But not all is good. The Chinese are wary of the devil within their midst and keep their distance. Hardin’s recovery is slow, and he has a difficult time adjusting to the cultural barriers. However, as he regains his strength, he attempts to fit in. Cheng’s children, and Tama, his sister, respond. The elders do not, and Cheng warns Hardin to keep to himself, as he is only welcome until he heals.

This is what a Chinese fishing town looked like on the Monterey coast about 10 years prior to Land of the Heathen.

When Cheng and the other men are at sea fishing whites invade Point Alones. Their assault includes rape of old and young. Hardin has recovered enough to step out from hiding and intervene, but Tama physically stops him. That night, after fishing, Cheng burns for revenge, but knows this cannot be. Then he sees the flicker of a relationship between Tama and Hardin. He takes Hardin aside and tells him that Tama is a rarity in the land of the heathen, the white man—a Chinese female who is not married and who isn’t a whore in the Devil’s world. She will marry one of her own. It’s simple: if Hardin touches her, he will die. … This is the beginning of the story.

Obviously this story is close to my life, and is a coin flip with Muse Eternal for which novel will be first. Best of all, and like Muse Eternal, I have a lot of research in house.

Reenter Howard Burnaugh,
LK’s documentation manager
at Infonet Services Corporation in El Segundo, California

I ought to say something here. In 1995 there was a major software convention in San Francisco that was free. ….  Howard had hired me as a technical writer in 1990 with zero experience (my background consisted of design and freelance writing).

I asked him if I could attend the convention, pitching that it would expand my knowledge on how to improve the look and feel of the books I currently wrote and designed. Without hesitation he said, “Yes.” … Before I left his his office he told me that he’d only pay for the airfare. The quotes I obtained were high. When Howard saw them he said, “No, instead I’ll pay your gasoline.” … That night I called great friends Tony and Cindy Graham, who lived in Santa Cruz, and asked if I could stay with them while I attended the convention. They said yes. I told them that I’d arrive on Wednesday evening and return home early Sunday morning. Tony and Cindy were oh-so key in my brother Lee’s life. Their children Sarah and Anthony were very young at this time. … On Sunday I detoured to explore Monterey, and stumbled upon a photographer’s shop that featured Chinese photos from the nineteenth century that he restored, printed, and sold. I spent three or four hours with him and bought Chinese Gold before I continued my drive south. All I could think about were the Chinese. By the time I got home I had a story idea.

On Monday I handed my gasoline bill to Howard. At that time I drove a 1982 F-150 Ford pickup (which he knew), and it didn’t get good mileage. When he looked at the cost I thought that he would faint, but then his face turned beet red. It was a struggle not to laugh. “If you had agreed to the air flight,” I said, “I would have stayed in an expensive hotel in downtown San Francisco that I couldn’t afford, but you didn’t. I stayed with friends in Santa Cruz.”

Untitled Kit Carson/Indians (nonfiction)
This untitled, and most-likely my last nonfiction book that deals with race relations and American Indians on the frontier, will focus on Kit Carson.

As the caption in the photo of this LK art of Kit Carson states, it is already in the first LK Collection at the Chávez History Library, and it is copyrighted art. … The art shows how Carson appeared in the first portion of the 1860s. This portion of Carson’s life may or may not be in my nonfiction manuscript. Research will be the determining factor.

This manuscript has been in the works for a long-long time, and is of great importance to me. And doubly so, for like my previous Indian wars books, it is a story that has never been told as I hope to tell it, and then with only a paragraph or three that shares nothing or is so fictional or biased that it should have never been printed. Shame on the publishers!

As always I have a lot of information that is already in-house, and much of it is primary research. But it is not enough. More primary source research is required, and it is mandatory to proceed with this manuscript. If I can’t discover and mine what is necessary it will be a tragedy for then my last nonfiction Indian wars book will have already been published.

For the record, if I am lucky, obtain long lost information, and draft a decent manuscript, my publisher of choice will be the University of Nebraska Press. If this happens, the reasons will be shared.

The Pirate Drake (fiction)
“The Pirate Drake” is mostly what I call Francis Drake, but I doubt if it will ever be a book title. … A lot about the pirate Drake needs to be said (but not here). This said, I should begin with director Richard Steele Reed, who was my acting manager in1976-1977. Unfortunately Richard is long gone, that is he no longer walks Mother Earth. After I had returned to Los Angeles after a summer of dinner theater in Lubbock, Texas, we contracted. It was a good working relationship, but it wouldn’t last. During this time we partnered on a novel dealing with Drake’s early piratical voyages to the New World. I wrote, and even then I had all the books published on Drake to that point in time, while Richard, who knew nothing about the pirate, edited. Alas, this story went on hiatus in 1977, which was good for me as my future life as a writer had just exploded although I wouldn’t realize this for years. This sounds like fiction—unpublished Kraft fiction—but it isn’t.

This image shows Drake’s ship entering a small harbor. His vessels were much smaller at the end of the 1560s and into the early 1570s. It was during this time he befriended the Cimarrons, mixed-blood African slaves who escaped from the Spaniards and married indigenous people who lived in Panama. The art is in the Louis Kraft Collection in Santa Fe.

This portion of Drake’s life isn’t well documented as there isn’t much documentation at this time of his life as he lived in obscurity. He sought revenge against the Spaniards who had promised that John Hawkins’ damaged fleet a safe harbor to repair vessels but then attacked and destroyed all the English ships save two: a small vessel named the Swan that Drake captained and another that Hawkins had boarded after his ship was engulfed in flames. … As soon as possible Drake made exploratory trips to the Caribbean Sea and the Spanish mainland to decide how he would begin his private war against Spain. During this time he wooed and won Mary Newman, who became his wife in 1569. The pirate Drake’s war against Spain began in 1572.

The Pirate Drake (nonfiction)
… And he has the potential of jumping to the top of this list in a heartbeat but it won’t happen. This is no joke. No joke. Francis Drake has been with me since early childhood, but for some reason has always been pushed to the back of my writing life.

The second time was when the Golden Hinde II was docked in Oxnard, California, but I only have photos of the vessel and not of me on it.

For the record, I’ve always been a pirate, and have always walked shoulder to shoulder with Francis Drake. I’ve made a point of exploring the Golden Hinde II as this was the vessel in which he circumnavigated the globe (1577-1580). Folks, this was a major accomplishment.

LK photo of the replica of the pirate Francis Drake’s Golden Hinde II in Oxnard, California (June 1988). Unlike my first and third times aboard his vessel I didn’t have it to myself, as his ship was jammed with people. (photo © Louis Kraft 1988)

Francis Drake was an exceptional human being. If you study the second half of the sixteenth century and are aware of the racial and religious hatred that were predominant, and more the brutal and at times the savage butchery of human beings at this time, you may understand my attraction to Drake the pirate.

Yes, he was a pirate, and the Spaniards considered him a pirate during his entire life even though he was knighted by Queen Elizabeth I of England after the circumnavigation. But he wasn’t the typical bloodthirsty pirate who butchered other human beings. Instead he treated them with respect (even though he hated Spain for their heinous murder of indigenous people in the New World and Protestants whenever captured). By the end of my college years Drake had hooked me, and thereafter I have purchased everything on him that I could find.

What’s this book going to be about? I’m not sure yet, but it will not deal with anything in my novel about him. For more on the pirate Drake see: https://www.louiskraftwriter.com/2017/05/20/the-pirate-francis-drake-and-louis-kraft/.

Phraya Phichai Dap Hak, the soldier with the broken sword (fiction)

I discovered Phraya Phichai on my second full day in Thailand in November 2014 after I joined Pailin in her homeland, and it was her first visit since leaving in 2004. We mostly stayed with family and friends (one cottage on my first night after joining Pailin and one hotel on our next to last night). Pailin’s good friend Colonel Daranee Konsin (retired) opened her home to us in Lampang. Her statue was the same as I would see time and again. Next we lived with Not and Font Subanna (they are Pailin’s sister and brother-in-law). We spent nine or eleven days with them in Uttaratt and the trip to Bangkok.

Art of Font Subanna & LK at his home in Uttaradit, Thailand, on his birthday (27nov2014). I created the painting in 2016. (art © Louis Kraft & Font Subanna 2016)

Sabrina Subanna, Not and Font’s daughter, and Pailin’s niece is her only relative in the USA. Luckily Sabrina and her hubby Carlos Castillo live near us as Pailin and Sabrina are sisters. Sabrina’s sister Lek and her husband Sophon, who live walking distance from her parents, gave us a tour of their city, and as I learned it featured Phraya Phichai. This included a huge museum that housed three paintings of him and finally the Temple where there is a huge statue of him (that the small ones replicate) plus a museum that featured him.

A boy named Choi (which meant “little one”) was born in 1741. While still a boy Thai boxing grabbed hold of his life and would not let go. Without his parents knowledge he studied it. At an unknown date he met Thiang, a master trainer who saw his potential. Although unknown at the time, their connection was key to the boy’s future. When twenty years old and now known as Thong Di he was in the town of Tak during an annual festival that included boxing matches. An unknown in the boxing world, he entered the contest but refused to fight anyone but the best. Arjarn Nai Hao, the town’s master agreed to the fight anticipating an easy victory. To the crowds’ surprise, the upstart defeated the master. Phraya Tak, who hosted the boxing matches and was an officer in the Thai army, asked Thong Di to enlist. He did.

Who says they don’t raise cowgirls in Thailand? Not true and I have photos to prove it. What you see here is Pailin Subanna in the front yard of Tujunga House in 2013. My bro in Thailand Font Subanna gave me his statue of Phraya Phichai in 2016 when Pailin visited. The soldier with the broken sword has been on my desk ever since. (photo © Louis & Pailin Kraft 2022)

Years passed, and Phraya Tak became King Taksin, “the great of Thonburi.” During all this time Thong Di never lost a boxing match. This impressed King Taksin and he asked him to become his bodyguard. But King Taksin’s kingdom was only a portion of Siam, much of which was under Burmese control. Between 1766 and 1769 Kao Tsung, the emperor of China, invaded Burma four times to stop its aggression but failed.

LK took the photo of the monument to Phraya Phichai Dap Hak. Lek and Sophon spent one perfect day with Pailin and myself in 2014, and it concluded here. They purchased the postcard (left) for me. The art at right was created by a monk (I have his name and need to find it). (photo © Louis Kraft 2014)

During this time Phraya Tak/King Taksin saw an opportunity and began a revolt with 500 followers including Thong Di. at one point Taksin was forced to flee to the East Coast of Siam. It was here that due to Thong Di’s prowess in battle and leadership abilities Taskin made him commander-in-chief of the military. Total war was declared against Burma. Thong Di, who fought with two swords, at the front of his army, hadn’t broken his sword yet. When he did it would turn him into a legend.

With Pailin I am lucky to enjoy many video phone calls to family and friends in Thailand. I enjoy our talks with TookTa (Monrumpha Subanna), Pailin’s sister, who I didn’t meet when I visited their homeland. During a recent conversion with my lady and TookTa she asked about my projects. I told about “Phraya Phichai Dap Hak,” the soldier with the broken sword and of my desire to hire a Thai historian who was fluent in English to do primary source research with me when next I travel to a country that has welcomed me with open arms.

LK’s office in the backyard of Not and Font Subanna’s home in Uttaradit on 26nov2014. (photo © Louis Kraft 2014)

TookTa told me that there isn’t much known about him. I replied that was what I thought. If true, and I totally strike out, it would eliminate any chance doing a nonfiction book on his life. Still hope burns eternal.

I have dueled with sabres in competition, I have learned swashbuckling/stage combat and have choreographed and fought duels on stage. When I return to Thailand I want to learn how to duel with two Thai swords.

Thai culture, language, religion, dialogue, action, character development and Phraya Phichai Dap Hak’s life will make a great novel.

LK’s future writing life has arrived.

Sand Creek Massacre, Errol & Olivia, Pailin’s big day & Louis Kraft’s dark times

Website & blogs © Louis Kraft 2013-2020
(All rights reserved.)

Contact Kraft at writerkraft@gmail.com or comment at the end of the blogs


Pailin and I hope and pray that all of you, your loved ones,
and friends worldwide are healthy and safe.

I never thought I’d make it to this wonderful time in my life,
and let me tell you that I feel like the Devil’s got a strangle hold on my left leg
and isn’t about to let go. … Not a good feeling.

Pailin took this photo of me in our front yard—which is always a place of peace for me—after a sleepless night but a good early morning on 7mar2020. I chose to use it here as an introduction to my current writing world and hopefully the beginning of the end of a living nightmare that began in June 2019. Not a promising start for what will hopefully be a very positive blog. At the same time the last nine months have perhaps been the best in my life. My brain functions—it always functions—and it has been key to me maneuvering through a maze of dead ends and false leads while not only making my deadlines, but setting myself up for the best times of my life. If not yet, the answers are getting closer. (photo © Pailin Subanna-Kraft & Louis Kraft 2020)


Sand Creek
and the Tragic End of a Lifeway
has become reality

I completed all of my work at the end of December 2019,
and damnit to hell I miss it! There is a big hole in my life but Errol & Olivia is
doing a good job of lessening the loss (see below).

Available at

University of Oklahoma Press
Amazon
Barnes & Noble
Goodreads
Target
and various National Historic Sites and museums

At first this project seemed like it was from hell, … a hell without end. Physically it has cost me a lot. If I had guts I’d post a recent photo here—an image taken between hanging from a limb and yet being able to scramble to safety yet again. When I was young and playing sports, we used to have a saying, “No guts, no glory.” Today I have no guts, which means no sharing of a photo wherein I’m hanging from that limb and it is starting to crack. … If I did, some of you might cringe, and I don’t want that.

Doris and Louis Kraft Sr. in Yonkers, NY, in 1947. Both were born in Yonkers, as I was, but in less than six years would migrate to Southern California, a state they had long decided would be their home after they had driven across the country twice to visit it. (photo © Louis Kraft 1947)

As the days pass, I’m good with where I am. However, I should share some words that I said at my father’s funeral in 1999:

“As my papa got older, his world shrank. By the time he died, the furthermost extension of his world was his neighborhood. And what a neighborhood it was. When I was growing up it was just like one of those fantasy neighborhoods in the ‘sixties TV shows. The world changed, got harsher, different—but not the neighborhood. It remained the same. It was still that fantasy neighborhood from a 1960 TV show. Pardon me, for I know I’m going to forget someone, and I don’t mean to. You all played a big part in my papa’s life, and Linda* and I will remain forever grateful.”
* Linda was my sister (24dec1950–1mar2006).

This was the only software badge that I bothered to capture. Sun Microsystems was flourishing when it purchased Seebeyond, but five years later it was spiraling toward oblivion when Oracle bought it for peanuts on the dollar.

My neighborhood isn’t like the one I grew up in, for it isn’t magical. That’s okay, for many people of different races and cultures surround me. I like this. My house was built in 1928 and I have lived in it since January 1993. It’s home, and I love it here, as my dad did his final home that he bought in 1955 (yeah, I’ve got a ways to go yet). Still, my life has begun to mimic his, for as I age, my world has also shrunk. (Certainly current events have impacted the previous sentence tenfold.) Maybe I’ll talk about it, and maybe I won’t.

Still, I should share that my life includes my small family of six (representing three races); Pailin’s family and friends in Thailand; our Los Angeles connections; and all of my friends that I met during my personal quest of knowledge, exploration, and creativity. This includes writers, historians, editors, directors, actors, artists, museum and National Park Service personal, the entire software world (which played a major part in my development as a writer and human being), and everyone else that has touched me in one way or another.

Sand Creek & the world it created for me

I am going to share photos of some people that have played key roles in bringing the Sand Creek story from the mists of Neverland to the reality of a book.

LK and Glen Williams, my bro for all time, on a road trip to Tucson, Arizona. On 15jan2012 we had just arrived at Mission San Xavier del Bac. I needed this trip with my good friend; some research (walking into the past and reliving it, if only for a short while), but more importantly doing some mending within myself.(a joke times two in 2011; if I ever share these two episodes from my life that are joined at the hip for all time you’d fall off your chair you’d be laughing so hard). … My sister-in-law worked with the Indian kids at the mission school in the early 1970s. I have some photos from that time, and need to find them. (photo © Louis Kraft and Glen Williams 2012)

Alas, there are many people who played major roles in this process but I don’t have images of many of them. This said, I don’t want them to be ignored or forgotten, and hopefully they won’t be.

An obscure beginning to the Sand Creek story in the 1980s

When I was preparing to walk away from the entertainment industry cold turkey in the early 1980s—and I was about to turn my back on writing screenplays as I had already had begun to write and sell magazine articles—I decided to write a novel about race relations during the time of the 1860s Cheyenne wars. By this time I was aware that some U.S. Indian agents were using their government-appointed positions to become rich by working with traders to steal from their wards. At this time my Indian wars knowledge was minimal other than my study of George Armstrong Custer, which was decent and growing.

LK walking with Leo Oliva (left) and George Elmore (right) on the parade ground at Fort Larned in Kansas on 12may2012. NPS ranger Ellen Jones shot this image as we were walking toward the reconstruction of the building that Ned Wynkoop rented from the post trader for his Cheyenne and Arapaho Agency, which was just outside the southwest perimeter of the fort. Since the early 1990s George, who is now chief historian of the National Historic Site, and Leo, who is a historian, writer, and lecturer, have played major roles in my understanding of the Cheyenne Indian wars. Ellen, after a long career in public service, which includes 17 years at Fort Larned, is retiring this April.

I had seen a little of the soldier turned Indian agent Edward W. Wynkoop in general Indian wars books (a paragraph or two here and another there with both saying basically the same thing), none of which I could recommend at this time for no matter how accurate or how inaccurate they were, the authors glossed over their subjects with a scattering of facts. Worse, much of the information was repeated from book to book with little that was new.

Jack Hines art of George Armstrong Custer and Sitting Bull in “Two Trails to Destiny.” I’m not crazy over his text, but I’ve always liked his portraits of Sitting Bull and Custer, even though he based his rendition of GAC on a famous Civil War image of the soldier. Oh, for those of you who aren’t  aware of it, Custer had his already short hair cut before setting out on what would be his final campaign in May 1876; he died at the Little Bighorn on June 25, 1876. I state this as some people who have seen the Warner Bros. 1941 film, They Died with Their Boots On with Errol Flynn and Olivia de Havilland mistakenly think that the battle site was a short distance from Fort Abraham Lincoln, and it was not. (painting © Jack Hines 1985)

I was well aware of the Indian Ring (or tradership) scandal of 1876 due to George Armstrong Custer’s testimony in March and April of that year. This led to President Ulysses S. Grant’s secretary of war William Belknap’s resignation, and his brother, Orvil Grant, being implicated. An angry president refused to see Custer, and when the lieutenant colonel left Washington D.C. without orders he was placed under arrest. This almost removed Custer from taking part in the 1876 Sioux war. Again, those film buffs who know They Died with Their Boots On (1941) intimately, Custer was punished, but it wasn’t for exposing a fake war due to gold being discovered in the Black Hills but for his participation in the Indian Ring scandal. Also, Custer wasn’t reinstated to command the Seventh U.S. Cavalry due to Flynn’s Custer confronting Grant. No! Generals Alfred Terry and Philip Sheridan requested that Custer be reinstated.

As Wynkoop was good looking, had risked his life to meet with warring Indians in an attempt to end a war, and had later become an Indian agent, I decided that he would make the perfect villain for my novel. I began to research him, and Oops! … He wasn’t who I thought he was, and he wasn’t on the take. I never wrote that novel, but my discovery of who Wynkoop really was led me on a journey that has continued to this day.

Portrait of Wynkoop that has been published in two books and I think three magazines. (art © Louis Kraft 2007)

Ultimately it would be how he reacted to the Sand Creek Massacre that allowed me to be open to writing a book about the subject. This said, it took roughly 25 years before a friend who had a hand in Lt. Charles Gatewood & his Apache Wars Memoir being published and who contracted Ned Wynkoop and the Lonely Road from Sand Creek broached the subject of writing a book that I had no desire to write. He pitched that I had a lot of the required information in-house.

I didn’t have anything close to all the research in-house, but I didn’t know that then. Luckily then University of Oklahoma Press editor in chief Chuck Rankin didn’t give up.

LK with OU Press Editor-in-Chief Chuck Rankin at the Western History Association convention in Oakland, California, on 15oct2011. Chuck gave me the Wynkoop book poster hanging behind us. I framed it and it has been displayed at Tujunga House ever since. (photo © Louis Kraft & Chuck Rankin 2011)

I said “no” numerous times, but Chuck—God bless him—refused to accept my answer, and the rest is history. … Meaning he won me over, we worked out a proposal that was acceptable to both of us, the contract was signed, and I quickly descended into the depths of hell as I struggled to locate mandatory information while at the same time trying to piece the jigsaw of facts and quotes and actions of the leading and supporting players into a readable story.

Although the beginning of the project was a disaster as I searched for what was mandatory to bring the story to life, I did find numerous leads that led to block walls and dead ends. At times this was costly, … not always in cash, but always in time—special time, which is oh-so fleeting for it is something that is gone in a flash never to return except in our memories. This said, some of these failures are worth their weight in gold, for they proved without a doubt that what appeared to be history was nothing more than fiction that had been reprinted so often that it is now accepted as fact.

Gordon Yellowman (left) and Harvey Pratt standing on the overlook to the Cheyenne Washita River village site where Chief Black Kettle and his wife Medicine Woman Later where killed by Custer’s troops when the Seventh U.S. Cavalry charged into the village at dawn on 27nov1868 without knowing who the occupants were. On that day Harvey spoke about Cheyenne warriors from the past and in today’s wars around the globe. Gordon blessed the village site on this day, and on the following day talked about what it was like to be a Cheyenne chief. (photo © Louis Kraft, Gordon Yellowman, and Harvey Pratt 2011)

Of course there is one instance of this that isn’t true. Actually the documents exist but the Oklahoma state government—in an effort to hide the theft of American Indian land—blocked the access to this valuable information from researchers such as myself as the dark past had to vanish to protect the guilty. This was also tragic to historian Dee Cordry, whose upcoming book on key players that I also write about will be must reading when published. Harvey Pratt, his good friend, and a man I was privileged to meet at the Washita Battlefield NHS during a two-day symposium wherein we both spoke in 2011, provided us with the citation we needed.

My memories of the entire process of creating Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway slowly morphed into the best project of my life. It far exceeded anything from my acting career, anything from my software writing career, and anything from my fictional and nonfiction projects (including articles and talks). This is a big statement from me. … One of the highlights was Gordon Yellowman allowing me to use his magnificent art, Sand Creek, on the cover of Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway.

Pailin took this image on 3oct2014. Good friend and great Cheyenne and Indian wars historian John Monnett (center) and his wife Linda took us to the Sand Creek Massacre NHS in southeast Colorado. Before walking along the bluffs to the west of the extended village site Jeff C. Campbell (NHS ranger–interpretation) kindly spent time with us. I consider him the foremost expert on the village and the terrible actions of November 29-30, 1864. He has since provided me invaluable information in phone conversations, and by providing his documentation and commenting on mine. I can’t begin to tell you how much John has contributed to my understanding of the Cheyenne wars of the 1860s. This was a good day for me. (photo © Jeff C. Campbell, John Monnett, Pailin Subanna-Kraft, and Louis Kraft)

Southern Cheyenne Chief Harvey Pratt (left) on 30mar2017 near El Reno, Oklahoma, when he was honored by the Cheyenne and Arapaho tribes for his service to the tribal community. He is with his friend Dee Cordry, an historian and former police officer, on the day of the ceremony. Eleven chiefs of the Cheyenne Tribal Council of Forty-four were present, as were the tribal governor and lieutenant governor. (Good friend Dee Cordry shared this image with me.)

I’m already feeling the loss of having a day-in and day-out schedule that was non-ending. No matter what else I had to complete, and there was a lot going on during these long-long years that I had to deliver: talks, articles, software books (I think that my last full set of books at Oracle was 23, which I delivered on deadline—I think the cost for them was $100,000), and a novel from hell (but it contained many of the same obstacles as did the Sand Creek manuscript, and I used it as a training ground). I’m proud of The Discovery, a medical-legal thriller that goes in totally unexpected directions and of the Sand Creek story.

One thing that I have is a brain, and it functions on all cylinders at all times.

But that doesn’t mean that there aren’t a lot of people who help me, for there are, and they range from good friends from my Indian wars, American Indians, and Golden Age of Cinema connections. This also includes archival staffs, library staffs, and book and magazine editors and their staffs. Some I know in the flesh and have spent good times with them in SoCal and in many locations across the USA from Virginia to Tucson, Arizona, and in the case of Olivia de Havilland in Paris.

I have many-many more who have worked with me on the phone, via email, and with letters but have never met in person, and some of these people have become good friends, especially Dee Cordry, who, God-willing, I’ll meet in person later this year (at the moment COVID-19 has put that trip in jeopardy). For a number of years now Dee and I have enjoyed an open-door round-robin phone calls and emails wherein we’ve done everything possible to help each other out with our writing projects. Dee administers a terrific page on Facebook that I highly recommend: Cheyenne Trails & Tales. It is a wonderful location to learn about the “Called Out People,” the Tsistsistas (Cheyennes), and rub elbows with them and other American Indians, artists, writer-historians, and people who know and care about their lives, culture, and history.

Harvey Pratt, who, as mentioned above, came to my and Dee’s rescue with invaluable documentation that is related to his family, but is no longer available to writer-historians due to a law that the state of Oklahoma set in place years back to protect unscrupulous people that were thieves and worse. I can’t begin to say how grateful I am to him for his kindness.

I created this painting from a photo I took of Paul and Connie Hedren at the National Cowboy and Western Heritage Museum Wrangler Awards in April 2012. Paul won a Wrangler for his book, After Custer (OU Press, 2011) and I won one for “When Wynkoop was Sheriff” (Wild West, August 2011). (art © Louis Kraft © 2016).

There have been many others who contributed, and one, Indian wars historian Paul Hedren did an in-depth peer review of the Sand Creek manuscript that was easily worth a bag of gold. So did my other peer reviewer but this person chose to remain unknown. As I know a lot of writers who distain or refuse to consider constructive criticism, I have just a handful of words for you—stuff your egos in a box and do what you can to improve your work. … Once there was a Custer historian who thought that he was God’s gift to Indian wars history. Decades back one of his books was being reprinted by another publisher, and I asked him if he would do anything to improve it. He answered, “No. It’s perfect.” He moved on to the other side many years back. Before he did, I never had the guts to tell him that I couldn’t get through the first chapter of “his masterpiece.” Back to Paul; he’s an award-winning author and a well respected authority on the Indian wars. Thank you, Paul, from the bottom of my heart.

I had hoped to post photos and talk about others here, but due the unfortunate truth that I don’t have photos that I had requested of many of them, along with the fact that I don’t have enough room to do so, I hope to address this in future blogs.

LK’s writing world is an ongoing swirl
of research & creativity

Errol & Olivia

Know that some of my copyrighted photographs have been lifted illegally; ditto some of my art. All I can say is that it is a sad state of affairs in the United States when distortion, lies, theft, and violence are condoned. A sad state. The current government is responsible for this (and I have little respect for most of the elected candidates in both major parties), for most of our elected officials think nothing about blatantly lying while doing everything to better the rich at the cost of the electorate, and in some cases doing everything possible to destroy anyone who disagrees with them.

I know, … a strange beginning to my current number 1 book project. I know.

This photo of Tujunga House was taken on 13oct2016 shortly before nightfall, and for the record our rooms are in constant change. One of the reasons is downsizing. To date the largest hit has been on books and research (and I hate to say it but they are in every room except for the bathroom and kitchen). It’s simple with the books. Do I need them for my current and future projects or will I perhaps read them again for pleasure? If no to either question—good bye. This is similar with the research, except some of the past as well as some that is still in the future is going to move to the Louis Kraft Collection at the Chávez History Library (History Museum of New Mexico, Santa Fe) later this year. I had hoped (and still hope) that this could be an in-person delivery. If not, it will be via FedEx. I sold a lot of American Indian (actually everything I had up for sale last year), Custer, Indian wars, and fiction. More has since been boxed for local bookstores but my health shut that down. COVID-19 has now shut down the local stores (although one bought four huge boxes prior to the Federal government waking up to the fact that the pandemic is real) and a surgery has shut me down until mid-June. More will be eliminated ranging from Custer (my collection is still huge), more Indian wars, probably some film stuff, certainly more fiction (including a first edition Steinbeck along with other key novels), and whatever else I dig up. … Back to the room, which enters into my office and then into a hallway. Change is good, but there’s always a part of me present (and now a part of Pailin is in all the rooms, and you can see some of it here). This said, some of what you see are key to my future writing. The Flynn posters have been up for a long time for two reasons: I like them and each time I look at them they remind me to get the work done! The two small framed images by the lamp are of the pirate Francis Drake for the same reason. The two swords I designed, and they are totally illegal in dueling competition. They are your basic sabres, except that the blades are for épées (where you score points by merely plucking a wrist or arm with the point of the blade) and they don’t bend like foils or sabres, the bells are for sabres but are oversized (and not allowed in competition). Almost all the good dueling you see on stage or in film is with both thrusting and slashing, which you do with sabres. (photo © Louis Kraft 2016)

Progress
Progress is slow, but good. … This is the only way that I work, and honestly I’m thrilled. Just so you know, I easily have enough research in house to complete this project, but believe it or not, since I have returned to Errol & Olivia full time in January 2020 (not counting about four weeks that I have lost due to my health and other work that had to be dealt with, including this blog) my research continues to outpace my writing by easily 75 percent of the time that I have allotted to this manuscript. This is good, for as my knowledge grows so does the twists and turns in the storyline. This  is how I work, and for me it is the only way to work. And this means that I must be focused at all times while being ready to change direction at the drop of a hat.

Scope
The scope has grown considerably, but there’s nothing new here for the growth was already in place in 2015—I just didn’t advertise it. More exactly I needed to sit on this growth for five years. Am I good with this? You bet! Currently this expansion is already over 30,000 words, and more is a comin’.

The reason should be obvious, and it is based upon how long it takes me to complete a polished draft, and the fact that I need to live a long time for there are other Flynn book ideas hovering on the horizon.

What I bring to the table
I wrote these words in August 2013, and they are appropriate here.
I think you need to know a little about me that relates to me being capable of writing Errol & Olivia. Obviously I write biographies, but more is required. I don’t want to drag this out with a lot of words, so we’ll use a few bullets:
  • I discovered Flynn and de Havilland’s films when a boy
  • Flynn’s acting and writing influenced my life
  • While a young teenager I studied fencing with Ralph Faulkner in Hollywood
    • This led to me learning sabre and dueling competition in college
    • It eventually led to me learning “swashbuckling,” or stage combat, and choreographing duels and dueling on stage
  • In junior high school I began studying acting and performing
    • This continued in high school
    • In college I majored in acting and directing
  • For about 15 years after college I attempted to survive in the acting world
  • After quitting acting I have survived as a writer
  • When opportunity presented itself in 2002 I returned to the stage but only in plays I have written
  • I have a track record of bringing historical figures to life in print, on stage, and when speaking before an audience … not to mention my skill with a blade

LK working out with a lady I loved crossing swords with on 3dec1981, as she was a good swashbuckler and fun to be around. That’s our coach on the right side of the image as he and a cameraman shot this workout. Alas, I never saw the filmed footage. (photo © Louis Kraft 1981)

I believe the above qualifies me to not only write about Mr. Flynn and Ms. de Havilland but to approach their lives during a very short period of time in a different and perhaps avant-garde manner. These words are key, for they provide a hint to how I’m writing Errol & Olivia. … And better, I’m going into detail and it’s going to be fun detail; fun and multi-leveled. All I have to do is make it happen.

“Must See, Must Read”
Five intriguing books and five films about the Indian Wars
by Louis Kraft*
Wild West (August 2014)
They Died With Their Boots On (1941, on DVD, Warner Home Video): If Errol Flynn hadn’t played George Armstrong Custer, there would have been no Kraft writing about the Indian wars. Long years past through the present day, critics of this film have pounded it for its historical inaccuracy. Although true, let me invite you to actually research it—which I’ve done since the mid-1990s in preparation of multiple books on Errol Flynn (the first to be called Errol & Olivia). The thrust has been simple: In 1941 Warner Bros. feared being sued, and historical players and facts changed to fiction. Even though the film is fiction, it is so close to truths that have been disguised and altered that it’s scary. I can’t list them here, but trust me, for ’tis true. Don’t buy it? Do your own research. … Errol Flynn’s performance as George Armstrong Custer is magnificent, for he captured the spirit of the man; and Olivia de Havilland is perfect as Libbie Custer. It is arguably Flynn’s best performance, and by far their best performances in the eight films they did together.”
* This column is ongoing in Wild West (by contributors to the magazine).
Usually five books and five films have mini reviews. I made my comments personally related to my writing career. This issue also included two other LK articles.
One, a feature, “Wynkoop’s Gamble to End War,” was, I believe, the best
article that I have written about Ned Wynkoop.

Errol Flynn as George Armstrong Custer in They Died with Their Boots On just before he sets out for Montana Territory and destiny, and the real Custer 11 years before his death at the Battle of the Little Bighorn. For the record Custer set out from Fort Abraham Lincoln in Dakota Territory on his final Indian campaign on May 17, 1876. He didn’t engage Sioux, Cheyenne, and Arapaho Indians on the Little Bighorn River until June 25, 1876. This fact is here for, believe it or not, people have stated to me numerous times that Custer fought his final battle a day or two after setting out. (This image is in the Louis Kraft Collection)

A glimpse at Captain Blood

Here I’m talking about Rafael Sabatini’s great 1922 novel, Captain Blood: The Odyssey, and the classic 1935 Michael Curtiz-directed Captain Blood, which made Errol Flynn a superstar (this term wouldn’t be created until decades after his death) and Olivia de Havilland (and she said this), “a small star.”

This image is based upon a photo taken during a workout shortly before nightfall on 15sept2015. For the record, stage combat/swashbuckling is done with a minimal amount of protective gear, such as elbow and knee pads. Also, in case you didn’t know, the slashing offensive moves have numbers with the same numbers attached to the defensive actions to parry (block) the attack. It’s just like dance, and both combatants must know the moves in slow motion before confronting each other in real time. If not, and one of the duelists gets lost, he/she must get back on track by calling out the numbers so that both parties know exactly what is happening, or simply back off and halt the encounter. I know this for a fact, for while playing Miles Hendon in a 135-performance tour of The Prince and the Pauper in Northern California in 1982 I came within an inch of losing my left eye when the villain got lost and improvised. After the performance the other actors had to hold us apart as I wanted to tear his head off. … When allowed, the first thing I’ll be doing is strengthening my legs, midriff, and arms, and then working out with a blade. BTW, that’s my hair. Yep, sometimes I’m a little slow cutting it. Also I was trying to sell Johnny D. Boggs to allow me to adapt his great novel, East of the Border (Five Star, 2004), which was about Wild Bill Hickok joining Buffalo Bill Cody and Texas Jack Omohundro on the stage. I wanted to play Hickok. Neither Johnny or my great friend and only director this century, Tom Eubanks, weren’t interested. After several years I gave up. You win some and you lose some. Oh, Mr. Eubanks, this image is for you. Guess why. (image © Louis Kraft 2020)

Sabatini’s Captain Blood played a large role in the creation of the Curtiz film, which is in stark contrast to his terrific novel The Sea Hawk. I’ll spend a fair amount of time with the story line of the film, as I think what I’ll say is important. Also, what I have discovered this year has improved my view of the film at least tenfold.

I don’t think that I’m giving anything away when I state that the only thing that Warner Bros. used from Sabatini’s The Sea Hawk, was his title.

That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say about Captain Blood?

I know, … I know, and I know, but I need to say something and it is important:

I could easily add 7,500 words to this blog discussing Captain Blood, my progress with Mr. Flynn, Ms. de Havilland, and the early part of their life and times working together at Warner Bros. The lead-in to this section guarantees that I must keep my mouth shut or face the consequences—the ongoing theft of my copyrighted material, and facts turned into readable prose is a much greater loss than the images. Besides if I share everything there would be no reason for you to buy the book.

I track the thefts. Obviously I don’t have the money to sue each and every cretin. This said, if I ever meet one of them in the flesh, I will deal with them exactly as Mr. Flynn dealt with columnist Jimmie Fidler. Those of you who know Flynn, know exactly what I’m talking about (but it will be juicier than what you know); those of you who don’t will be in for a treat.

E&O on a daily basis

I bought this book (left) when it was first published in 1962, and although treated with kid gloves it hasn’t aged gracefully. The pages have all yellowed and the cover has begun to darken on the edges. There are a lot of quotes in the chapter on Flynn, but I don’t dare trust any of them. That’s right, my view of this book is not worth stating here. All I’ll say is that it won’t appear in my bibliography unless I decide to use a small portion of it to demonstrate how amoral writers deceive their readers. Honestly, this isn’t going to happen for I’m not going to waste any of my word count on a book that should never have been published.

One Flynn historian (who was clueless on how to write nonfiction, and lordy-lordy help us for the fiction will fly fancy-free with zero documentation when his BOOK to END ALL FLYNN BOOKS sees print. I know this for a fact, for after he provided me with a great quote, AND after a month’s worth of my time searching the confirmed archival file for the proof of what he provided, I realized that he was F—g me in the rear end; his research was pure bullshit). This clown once asked me why I read everything that I can get my hands on that is related to my research on Flynn and de Havilland. My answer was simple: “If you don’t know what is in print, regardless if it is accurate or not, you’ll never know this unless you read it.” This was above his egotistical comprehension. Let me just say this, a lot of what has been published about Flynn and de Havilland is error-riddled crap. Lucky us, for there is yet another book moving toward publication that will join this club. If it is ever published buy it at your own risk.

For example, the nonfiction book, “Get Me Giesler” (above) by John Roeburt (the title of the book is a quote). Jerry Giesler was the famed defense lawyer who took on Errol Flynn’s statutory rape case in 1942. I don’t know what I thought about the book in the dark ages. However, now I view it is a sensationalized piece of crap. Of course it is loaded with errors, some of which are egregious. Outrageous might be a better choice of words here, for when the author introduces that Flynn was again confronted with sex with a minor when he had just married his third wife, Patrice Wymore, in Europe, the reader is told that this crime again took place on his ketch, the Sirocco. As Errol had sold the Sirocco not too long after he was acquitted of the charges in 1943, and didn’t marry Pat until 1950, this error pops off the page. Why? Was Roeburt shooting from the hip and didn’t confirm any of his facts? Or did he do it on purpose to make a parallel comparison? If yes, why? These types of errors also make me wonder how many other errors are present in the book. If ever you read the book, and see what I’m talking about, you should also ask the same question. Mainly, are Roeburt’s errors simply piss-poor research or did he create them on purpose? Trust me, this is an either/or question.

Although writing isn’t everyday, for the simple reason that the days aren’t long enough to get everything on my daily list accomplished. More, research is ongoing from day to day. It might be working on tracking down something that may have happened and may not have have happened. Regardless, I must know the answer. Or it might be rummaging through my massive collection of primary source documentation. When I do this, I’m usually looking for something that I know I have and want to add it to the manuscript. Or it might be spent reading selections from my massive library on Mr. Flynn, Ms. de Havilland, and the supporting players in their lives.

Errol, Olivia & the Sand Creek story

One of the things that took so long to complete Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway was that I needed to get the historical events in the correct order (no easy task) and bring the main and supporting players to life (and this was totally based upon their actions, their words, and what other contemporaries said about them). This is exactly how I intend to present Mr. Flynn and Ms. de Havilland.

Pailin took this image Tom McNulty at our house on 11apr2014 when he and his beautiful wife Jan visited. (photo copyright © Thomas McNulty, Pailin Subanna-Kraft & Louis Kraft 2014)

I’m certain that many of you who know anything about Errol Flynn’s life are acquainted with Thomas McNulty’s magnificent biography of him, Errol Flynn: His Life and Times (McFarland & Company, Inc., Publishers, 2004). If you aren’t aware of Tom’s book, or haven’t read it, do yourself a favor and get your hands on it. I first read it when it was published, and immediately realized that it was—by far—the best biography written about Mr. Flynn, actor, writer, sailor, father. It was then and it still is today. I’m proud to call Tom and his wife Jan friends.

Tom went the extra mile with his EF book, he did a massive amount of research and added a lot of information that isn’t present in other biographies—that is, he did everything possible to bring Errol to life using his actions, quotes, and others’ thoughts about him.

**********

Like my writing about race relations between Cheyennes, Arapahos, Apaches (and soon to be Navajos), and whites, I have a fairly large network of Flynn/de Havilland archives and knowledgable people (and most are friends, but due to the distances between us some I only know long distance. Those of you in this category I hope to meet in the flesh someday. Flesh? Meaning naked? If you are a beautiful woman, yes! A man? Absolutely not! Regardless of your view of these words by LK, for true or not it was just my mind floating in Na-na land, Pardon me.

This photo of Selene Hutchison-Zuffi was taken in November 2019. She is a historian who works at the Duncan Tavern Historic Center in Paris, Kentucky, who loves to research, is an avid reader (“an avid reader” … my kind of person), and has a deep-rooted interest in the study of Errol Flynn. Because of this David DeWitt made her a co-administrator on his The Errol Flynn Blog on Facebook (also see below). (photo © Selene Hutchison-Zuffi 2019)

To repeat myself, E&O is about their life and times, and if all goes as planned I hope to add a lot that you may not know about them, and not just the good (although there will be good where you thought there wasn’t). All lives are not all good, although in many memoirs and biographies the subjects are pristine individuals without any faults. I have trouble reading these books for all of us—certainly me—have made decisions that weren’t good or mistakes we shouldn’t have made along the way. This is what makes us who we are. Errol and Olivia are no different, and by showing who they were/are will hopefully bring them to life. What I share will not be all positive and certainly not all negative, for the story will be about two people who thought they acted correctly when they did what they did. Trust me, Errol and Olivia were/are two exceptional human beings. Both were/are very intelligent; both were people of the world (Errol beginning with his early days and Olivia when she decided to change her life’s course); both were very desirable to those who knew/know them or wanted to know them; and damn, but both had/have great senses of humor. They were/are real people with real emotions and desires, and not clichés.


I am responsible for every word I write that is published. it doesn’t matter
if an editor messes up my facts or stuffs something into my manuscript that they
know nothing about but spit forth crap as if they are God’s gift to the published word.
When I fix their errors back to what is correct, I expect to see it in print. But sometimes this doesn’t happen. Sometimes the fixes make it into the proofs but then poof! They
are removed from a final proof that I wasn’t allowed to see. It makes no
difference why this happens, for whatever the reason for the errors,
theirs or mine, are now mine and only mine. Everything is on me.
Everything. … This said, I love my editors no matter how livid
I may become when something that should
have happened didn’t.


This is a library binding of Sabatini’s book that I purchased from a library used book sale in the San Fernando Valley decades ago. It is a 1950 reprint of the classic 1922 work.

As with all my writing, and I can’t stress this enough, is how much people help me during the entire process of discovery and comprehension while I slowly piece my manuscript together. The process continues until the work is published, and often never stops unless I decide to walk away from the subject. Selene (her photo is above) is one of these people who has kindly helped with E&O. Better, this has led to a friendship.

Oh, one more thing and it is important. Over the years I have talked about Captain Blood and The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938), and some Flynn and de Havilland historians and fans haven’t been too pleased with some of my views—which I will discuss in E&O. This year I have spent a lot of time with both films digging through my primary source research, studying the scripts, and viewing selected scenes from the films that will be highlighted in the book.

To those of you who think that I need a good stoning or tar and feathering for my heretical views, mellow out. My opinions of both films* have improved considerably, and this, too, will be highlighted.

* When I complied a top 12 Flynn film list a number of years back Captain Blood and The Adventures of Robin Hood didn’t make the cut. I know, heresy. Neither did Four’s a Crowd, which I love and would have made the list if it been a top 13 list. Flynn and Livvie, as he called her, shine in this film.

Some thoughts that aren’t new

Before louiskraftwriter.com I had the long dead louiskraft.com, but I didn’t design or control it (I only supplied the words, images, and links). Eventually I couldn’t get anything updated (nothing—nada), and it didn’t matter what I offered $$$-wise to get the website updated. This was a joke, a bad joke, and there were other reasons that I couldn’t get it updated. Enough was enough! I walked away and waited for it to die a lonely death. A website (or blog) must be a living presence on the internet (and the administrator can’t disappear). A website/blog can’t be static. The end had been coming for some time, but when the website vanished—gone as if it had never existed I didn’t know it, as I wasn’t informed. It took months before I stumbled upon its demise. … A fleeting image, a ghost, remembered but no longer reality.

About two years later great bud and Errol Flynn expert David DeWitt visited LA and stayed at Tujunga House in early 2013. I had already been planning to create louiskraftwriter.com (even though I didn’t know what the name would be at that time), and he hooked me up with PressHarbor and set up the key information for the new website & blog. He also provided me with some training, a lot of tips, and information on how to proceed.

See David’s great The Errol Flynn Blog, and also his The Errol Flynn Blog on Facebook, both of which he administers. Selene Hutchison-Zuffi, who has become my friend, is also an administrator on the EF Facebook blog.

David_DeWitt_jan2013

I took this image of David DeWitt in the front of Tujunga House in January 2013 when he visited and helped me set up this website/blog. Great times for LK. (photo © Louis Kraft & David DeWitt 2013)

David is an extraordinary gentleman, funny, bright, and I can’t begin to tell you how many great hours we shared just letting our minds connect and flow deep into the night while we talked during his visit. Certainly we discussed Flynn and Olivia de Havilland during his visit, but we also chatted about our current worlds—his and mine—and our past worlds. David is one of my great friends and a go to-expert that I respect.

We live near oceans. I have a mountain range (Santa Monica Mountains) between me and the Pacific, which means if ever a tsunami assaults SoCal as has have happened to Thailand, India, and many other locations Pailin and I will survive the devastation (I shouldn’t say this, but will: there are a lot of stories to tell about LK and the Pacific and some of them are R-rated). David lives on a beach on the South Carolina coast of the Atlantic. When he shares some of his images that he has taken while walking along the sand it looks like heaven. I can’t tell you how envious I am, if I ignore the hurricanes. … Luckily we have a great relationship that grows and thrives. I just wish that we were both lived on the same USA coast.

As everyone who sees these blogs knows that louiskraftwriter.com deals with my thoughts on writing, history, work, life, opinions, and sometimes craziness. I don’t need to say anything else about it, other than when you visit I hope that I don’t bore you to tears.

The website has been updated; some pages have vanished while others have appeared, and certainly Errol & Olivia is featured under Projects.

psk_hallowween_2016_1_ws

Something that hasn’t happened—yet

Jasmine took this image of Taipae, her dog, and my beautiful Pailin at Green Day Spa on Halloween 2016. (photo © Pailin Subanna-Kraft 2016)

In mid-September 2016 I learned that louiskraft.com would become available to purchase at a bargain, and I started the process to buy it. Why? I don’t know, but it didn’t matter, for after I had the winning and only bid I was told that they wanted more money. Adios, amigos. Viya con Dios (Go with God). End of subject. No loss for LK.

Timing is always everything. At that time when the website name became available, but before I realized it was a scam, Pailin had presented me with a Thai word that she told me meant “happy.” When I started using it, she laughed and laughed. Something smelled fishy, but what? Finally we agreed that I’d use the word as it related to a friend (forever unnamed) and she’d film it. Afterward she laughed and laughed. We viewed the video together and she again laughed and laughed. I had used an angry interpretation of the word but couldn’t understand why she was laughing. She enlightened me somewhat, but not totally. I told her that I needed a take no. 2. We taped it. Much better, as I came across sincere, but she couldn’t stop laughing when I viewed it with her. Why? She refused to share the reason. I said that I’d post take 2 on You Tube.”No! No!” she exclaimed, “You can’t do that!” “Huh?” Silence. … I pressed her for what was really going on and eventually she told me the word’s real definition. … What it really meant, … and it wasn’t close to what she had originally told me. The word actually meant something totally different—something good, something that’s always on my R+ rated mind (sorry, but no details are forthcoming).

Pailin at Tujunga House on 22nov2018—Thanksgiving. (photo © Pailin Subanna-Kraft & Louis Kraft 2018)

My turn. I laughed and laughed. She was right. Neither tape could ever be posted anywhere. Ever!

*****

Still the two tapes gave me an idea on how to try to expand my writing projects to the public. Heck, you never know—it might even bring in extra money. Wouldn’t that be nice? More important, this idea might be another way for me to raise questions that I need to ask. How can I truthfully write about people if I’m unclear who they were or why they did what they did? … Alas, this still has not happened due to time limitations. Fingers are crossed that it may now be in my near future.

February 14 throughout time …

Time is short, and I don’t have much to spare, but this day has always played an important role in my life. … And it continues until this time. Actually the here and now is much-much more important than ever.

February 14 is Pailin’s day and it is my day, and nothing can
change this. Ever. Night has arrived. The Vette is ready to growl
(something that makes my lady nervous, but it shouldn’t as the car
and I have bonded over the years). We are off to celebrate not
only this special day but also our marriage on this day in
2014—time flies when you are in love for all time.
(photo © Pailin Subanna-Kraft & Louis Kraft 2020)


Oh yeah, the wrinkles are deeper now, thanks to the past nine months.
Still, I’m grateful for each and every minute since June last,
for this time has been the most special in my entire life.

This image of us playing in the snow was taken in 1956; most likely at Mount Baldy, which is local to Los Angeles and was an easy drive from Reseda, where we lived in the San Fernando Valley. (photo © Louis Kraft 1956)

My mother was my first Valentine
And she was so for many-many years. As the song that Elvis Presley sang and excelled at, says, “Oh, mama liked the roses in such a special way …,” and mine did, especially on Mother’s day and Valentine’s day. I was a mama’s boy, and I can’t begin to tell you how close we were over the years. … We still are.

It’s hard to believe that she’s now been gone for over forty years.

Five women who played major roles in my life
I’m not sharing their names (but you know one of them for she’s in this blog—and she and one other are the only two people I would forfeit my life for in a heartbeat), but some of you may have known one of the other three. There are stories to tell here. Some would make you laugh; others might make you cringe. This said, I’m lucky to know or have known all five. … One I still have contact with and another currently plays a huge part in my life (our relationship has grown and matured over the decades).

My father
He was never my Valentine, but he was forever present in my life … as I was in his (and there are stories to tell here; I could write a book about our relationship). Over most of those years we clashed, and yet he always had my back. There was never a doubt that we loved each other, although at times our actions may have seemed to contradict this. … As the years passed and he grew frail I took care of him, and saw him three- or four- or five-times each week. We ate together, drank together, joked together, discussed our lives (past and present) and enjoyed each others company.

When this photo was taken I wrote for Storm Control Systems, a company that created software that controlled unmanned spacecraft after they were in orbit. We had one customer, the Hughes Satellite Wing of the Hughes Space and Communications Company, which was across the street from us in the South Bay of Los Angeles County in El Segundo. My hours began at 6:00 am and the 26-mile drive was a breeze, but it didn’t matter if I left at 3:00 pm or two or three hours later—the drive was a nightmare (at least an hour and a half to his house and two to mine). I did all his shopping and ate with him about four times a week. Although he was totally against me not following in his footsteps, he saw every play I did locally and read and commented on my drafts, screenplays, articles, and books. On this day (probably a Sunday) we were watching a Dallas Cowboys football game. Johnny Unitas was my man (and always will be). I did like Joe Montana, and Jim Plunkett looked like he played sandlot football (which I did often) but he won some big games. They were gone and I dropped football like a hot potato, except when with my dad—although I did enjoy John Elway’s perseverance. It took Tony Romo (near the end of his career) and Tom Brady to bring me back to football. In this image my dad was enjoying a glass of whiskey and water or Coke, and I may have had a glass of vodka and juice. (photo © Louis Kraft 1998)

My presence, along with a family with three boys across the street, did everything we could so that he could remain in his home. We almost succeeded, but he became so frail that he needed to spend time in an assisted living facility. He was there a week, maybe a little longer, and I could see he wouldn’t leave. I saw him and spent good time with him every day. On a special evening as I was leaving, he said, “I love you.” I always knew this, for during our entire lives together it was obvious. This was the first and only time he ever said this to me.

The next day, February 14, 1999, began early in the morning but quickly turned into a long day and night in living color—a nightmare without end. He died shortly before the wee hours of the fifteenth. This seems like a terrible memory. It wasn’t, for I was lucky to be with him to the end. It was as it had been when his wife/my mother died nineteen years earlier—just him and me (although on this late afternoon and evening three ladies/two are still major in my life) were with me even though a wall separated us when the time arrived. … Afterward my daughter and I were then able to spend time with him.

I’m one lucky cowboy,
for my father gave me the strength to follow my own trail.

Pailin’s perfect day

The following was mostly pulled from social media, but I posted it there so that it
was ready to place here. Those that have already read it, my apologies for
my lady’s perfect day was a major piece of her life and it belongs here.

As some of you knew I had problems beginning in late January before exploding into burning pain by mid-February. Unable to learn how to deal with it online I figured out how to work around this to allow me to escape from captivity even if only for a short time—don’t eat anything.

Pailin playing finger guns with me on 17jun2015. It’s a combination of hide and seek and shooting each other. (photo © Pailin Subanna-Kraft & Louis Kraft 2015)

Also, as some of you may know, Pailin and I are much alike. We are goofballs and we make each other laugh all the time. Perhaps this is because we are still kids at heart. We also have total focus on what we want to do, what we want to accomplish, and we do whatever is necessary to make this happen regardless of what we must overcome.

March 10 was an important day in my lady’s life and I wasn’t going to miss it. She drove while I chattered away, kept my legs as straight as possible, and applied pressure to the lower right side of my abdomen. The early morning rainstorm pounded her car while she maneuvered her way through bumper-to-bumper traffic while avoiding numerous freeways. She was heading to the USCIS building in downtown Los Angeles. This is a place that we both know well, and she intimately, for although I have been in key meetings there with her, on this day it would just be her. Oh, if you don’t know, USCIS stands for United States Citizenship and Immigration Services.

The rain had stopped by the time we reached her destination, and this was lucky for us for after we took an elevator up to a courtyard in a mall I led us up the wrong staircase. Outside we should have been facing the USCIS building, but weren’t. Still we crossed the street to figure out where we were. As it turned out we had used the wrong elevator, and the courtyard looked the same to the east and west staircase exits. As we could see the building to the west we worked our way to it. The cane worked fine as did the pressure I held on the trouble spot. Once inside the building and in the correct room Pailin checked in and sat down to await her turn. I tried to get comfortable while standing, but couldn’t do it. We had discussed this, and had agreed that I would return to the car.

Pailin in the huge garage across Los Angeles Street from USCIS on 10mar2020 (photo © Pailin Subanna-Kraft & Louis Kraft 2020)

As it turned out Pailin’s interview was elsewhere in the building. As she reached the door for her interview the person before her exited the room crying. Pailin knew immediately why, for this lady only carried her passport and what looked like her appointment letter. In stark contrast she carried a large briefcase with all the required documentation, including five years of tax returns, all the original documents from her life, which also included our marriage license, photos, her and my passports, and on and on. She also had two books that I had dedicated to her. She had studied for months (including a document with 100 possible questions to a handful of films and slideshows that showed the process as well as presented different questions), and I can’t begin to tell you how much her spoken and written English had improved. She had a good idea of how the meeting would play out and was not upset by what she had just seen.

She called me after she returned to the courtyard, and I hustled to get to her. She was so excited and happy. We hugged and hugged, and I’ll never be able to tell you how proud I am of her for it is beyond belief.

Pailin and LK shortly after see aced her USCIS interview. (photo © Pailin Subanna-Kraft & Louis Kraft 2020)

Pailin’s interviewer was a Latina, and the entire meeting was casual; that is, they mostly talked about this and that in Pailin’s life with the USCIS agent randomly slipping questions into their conversation. Basically they chatted and got to know each other a little. The meeting focused on Pailin’s life, civics, U.S. history, and the English language.

Pailin told me that the USCIS agent asked her about the drive that morning and how long it took, her name, her employer’s address, why did she travel to the United States, what is the number U.S. senators, how long has she lived at her current address, when is the presidential election, how did you meet your husband, … There were no numbers to the questions, and she answered everything correctly. This also included few questions on a tablet that Pailin read and then wrote her answers. After a while the interviewer said to Pailin, “We don’t have to go on, for you have answered everything correctly, and I can see how much you love your husband and living in the United States,” … yes, my lady was enthusiastic and full of joy with some of her answers … “and I have recommended that you become a United States citizen. You’ll learn the answer soon.”

I took this photo of my happy lady shortly after we returned home from her USCIS appointment on 10mar2020. (photo © Pailin Subanna-Kraft & Louis Kraft 2020)

Before the day ended Pailin received notice that her application to become a U.S. citizen had been accepted. The ceremony wherein she would swear an oath to allegiance the U.S was set for March 19. Appropriately just days before she swore her oath of allegiance, the ceremony was postponed due to the novel coronavirus that has been sweeping across the USA (in particular Washington, California, New York, and now also Florida) and the rest of the world. Whenever it is rescheduled you can bet that I’ll be present with a huge smile on my face.

Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde or is it …
Dr. Kraft & Mr. Hyde, and a surgery

Some of the classic writers that were prolific in the late nineteenth century or the early twentieth century or both have been some of the writers that I’ve enjoyed over the decades, from Robert Louis Stevenson to H. G. Wells to Edgar Rice Burroughs to Rafael Sabatini.

John Barrymore as Mr. Stevenson’s creations on a video cover (BTW, it’s on Amazon Prime). My mother told me more than once that her father was amazed with the Great Profile’s transformation from Dr. Jekyll to Mr. Hyde on the Broadway stage. I have yet to confirm that Barrymore played Jekyll/Hyde on Broadway and think her memory had been off and that her father/my grandfather (who died when I was six) was referring to the 1920 film.

Certainly Stevenson’s The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1886) is a classic. At times I feel that I would be perfect casting to play both roles, and I could make the transition from Dr. Kraft by not getting a shot and nine days of declining pills; that is four pills twice for three days, three pills twice for three days, and two pills twice for three days. By the evening of the fourth day after the pills had ended I would begin to become Mr. Hyde. The transition would be complete by the morning of the fifth day.

The physician treating me (and he is special) and I realized that the only way for me to again become Dr. Kraft would be to administer a shot and begin another cycle of pills (BTW, these pills would differ over time). 

A little LK background before we talk monsters

Actually this is LK, but it is also the warrior/mystic Apache Geronimo and actor/writer Errol Flynn and the pirate Francis Drake and on and on with me listing everyone I have written about. That is, we are all human beings and we will be judged by our actions, our words, and what other people who know/knew us share. My life is totally different from Flynn, Geronimo, and Drake’s and their lives are totally different from mine. … When anyone writes about us or anyone else the goal should be to find the truth, for that is what defines the person—and not what has most often been printed, “goody-two shoe stories” or “an evil as dark as the devil.”

I’m no saint, and lordy knows I’ve been a hellion for a good part of my life. Does this make me a monster, such as Stevenson’s Mr. Hyde as created by Dr. Jekyll?” No. … For me, mass murderers, rapists, butchers of humankind, and out-and-out racists are or could be monsters depending upon how their actions, views, and words play out.

A long time back after completing roughly 12 days at sea on a Navy nuclear helicopter carrier while living at Hotel del Coronado—the historic beachfront hotel in the city of Coronado, just across San Diego Bay from the California city of San Diego—and better, just steps from the harbor. After location filming concluded I returned to LA. On December 14 of that year this image of me was taken while I was in makeup as Dr. Frankenstein’s monster. Other than dealing with death it was a good time for me. (photo © Louis Kraft 1979)

Slipping back in time I was for a short instant a monster, and so was the lady at my side. This slight detour should really be labeled “beauty and the beast,” for she was (and still is) gorgeous, and well, hell, the image of me in makeup is closer to my view of myself.

Yuck! Just nasty!

After years I’ve learned to live with what I look like, but also over this time I have covered my face with all sorts of mustaches, goatees, and beards—at least then I could envision myself as a pirate or a frontiersman. AND NO, I’m not looking for a comment here. I know, “Kraft, that’s a bad attitude.” What can I say, other than it has been present for decades.

In June 2019 during a trip to Tucson, Arizona, to meet with Stuart Rosebrook, editor of True West, to discuss me writing for the magazine, reality crashed into my world and totally upset the apple cart. No longer would I have to avoid mirrors as I didn’t like my mug, for something, and it is still unknown (although my key physician has worked his way down to a few obscure diseases that aren’t contagious), attacked my face. The dreaded mug that I have cursed until I’ve become blue in the face suddenly shocked me into a new reality. “You think that you’re ugly, cowboy? Well, hold onto your saddle, for you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

As I had announced elsewhere on social media I was considering talking about my health but only if I could play around with Robert Louis Stevenson’s The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde and somehow deal with my ongoing situation in a humorous way. … I had recently reread Stevenson’s 1886 classic work for the first time in decades and enjoyed it even more this time. Alas, what follows won’t be hilarious.

BTW, for those of you who know Flynn’s 1953 swashbuckler, The Master of Ballantrae, Stevenson wrote the novel that it is loosely—very loosely—based upon. The Richard Thomas (Henry Durie), Michael York (James Durie; the Flynn role) and Timothy Dalton (Col. Francis Burke) TV film (1984) is much darker and much closer to the storyline. … I had worked with Richard on the 1980 TV film, Johnny Belinda (1982) with Dennis Quaid and Rosanna Arquette, which updated the classic Jane Wyman and Lew Ayres 1948 film while making the leading player—Thomas—a member of VISTA (Volunteers in Service to America). I had been a member of VISTA in 1970. When I told him in detail of how clueless the script was on how the volunteers worked with poor people in the continental USA, he said that he couldn’t get it changed. Still, it stated a friendship that lasted until we drifted apart several years later.

Robert Louis Stevenson (perhaps a year or two after he wrote Jekyll/Hyde).

Mr. Hyde is Dr. Jekyll
At the beginning of Stevenson’s story, Mr. Utterson (a lawyer), who is good friend of Dr. Jekyll’s, and who leads us through a good part of the telling of events, had this to say about Mr, Hyde: “He’s is not easy to describe. There is something wrong with his appearance; something displeasing, something down-right detestable. I never saw a man I so disliked, and yet I scarce know why. He must be deformed somewhere; he gives a strong feeling of deformity, although I couldn’t specify the point.

And later Dr. Lanyon, upon receiving a letter from Dr. Jekyll, thinks his friend is insane, and yet follows his instructions and meets Mr. Hyde. He also described the gentleman: “This person (who had thus, from the first moment of his entrance, struck in me what I can only describe as a disgustful curiosity), was dressed in a fashion that would have made an ordinary person laughable; his clothes, that is to say, although they were of rich and sober fabric, were enormously too large for him in every measurement—the trousers hanging on his legs and rolled up to to keep them from the ground, the waist of the coat below his haunches and the collar sprawling wide upon his shoulders. Strange to relate, this ludicrous accoutrement was far from moving me to laughter. Rather, as there was something abnormal and misbegotten in the very essence of the creature that now faced me …”

Stevenson wanted to explore the two sides of man, good and evil. I could be talking about the evil in Kraft, but I’m not. I’m more interested in what Dr. Jekyll had stumbled upon with his experimentation.

Of course if you do some digging you might find that once I received a 10×13″ envelope with a 8×10″ envelope inside it. On the outside of the smaller envelope SHAME was printed in bold with a red marker. The envelope was filled with long dark hair. My heart missed a number of beats.

That delivery still makes my shiver.

People have asked about my heart and cracking my skull open more than once. The second time I photographed the scene of the crime after returning from the emergency room. Thirteen hours had passed since the incident and the blood had dried. I turned the result of falling on my noggin’ into art and posted it on social media (see above, © Louis Kraft 2017).

To learn more about cracking my skull, which led to an EEG of my brain, and ultimately me continuing to walk Mother Earth, see: Sand Creek Massacre, Errol & Olivia, Louis Kraft, and a perfect storm.

Most of my past, the really bad past is hilarious when I look back. In a time not too far gone I had been in a long relationship with a possessive lady; not the person above who scared the XXXX out of me. We had gone out to dinner; one we should have passed on. Later that night she was in her panties and washing her face in the sink in preparation to showering. I had just finished my shower and stepped to the sink to turn the water off as it was about to overflow. “That’s it!” she screamed. “I’m out of here!” … Nope, I don’t think I’ll share this here. Looking back I often ask myself do I dare present these events in a memoir? That’s a big question and I still don’t have an answer. This said, Mr. Flynn did his memoir the proper way (with a little help from a friend), and most likely will have the deciding vote. … I just need to make damn sure that I’m dancing with angels before it is published. If not, I’m certain that my rear end will be sued from here to kingdom come.

I’m going to focus on the transformation from doctor to mister and back. Again, I’m interested in the transformation and not the evil that Dr. Jekyll created.

I’m not a physician but my father-in-law, who became our family doctor shortly after we migrated to California in 1953, certainly was. Over my early adult years, many acting publicity photos were shot in his medical suite. The B&W image of me is one of them. I’m sitting in my father-in-law’s chair in his office (September 1979). This photo actually had a silent bit on the short lived TV show Tucker’s Witch (12 episodes, 1982-83) with Tim Matherson, Catherine Hicks, and Alfre Woodard. It was turned into a political campaign poster and gave me a nice payday for simply handing 2nd assistant director Pam Grant an 8×10. She was a dark-haired beauty and a sweetheart; I luckily worked with her on numerous projects.

This photo was taken on 4oct2019, the night after the assault returned with a vengeance. it would be nothing when compared to what was to come. (photo Louis Kraft 2019)

An ongoing problem without end
As the cyclic attacks occurred twice a month after the shot and pills ran their course, my problem shot through the months. Although the pill prescriptions changed slightly whatever invaded my facial skin and turned my back into a bumpy mess of itchiness, it did not affect any other part of my body. When I looked like Mr. Hyde I avoided all contact with the public except my physicians.

I saw my go-to physician who has been doing everything possible from obtaining various blood tests, biopsies (I wanted a “Z” cut on my face so that I could say that I crossed swords with Zorro; my doctor simply smiled and shook his head no), and referred me to other doctors for second opinions and/or to do additional testing.

LK with Dejah Thoris, my doberman pincher, in 1978. She was fully grown in this image, and was the kindest animal I’ve ever known. My sweetheart died in 1992, and I’ve never owned another animal since. (photo Louis kraft 1978)

Over three weeks last fall an allergist stuck 260 needles in my arms twice to see what might be attacking me. … Milk products (duh; this has been ongoing for decades). … Dogs and cats (I haven’t had a dog since 1992, … my beloved Dejah Thoris, whom I named after the princess of Mars in Edgar Rice Burroughs’s series of books on John Carter of Mars). After the second session he told me, “I don’t know what is attacking you, and I can’t help you. Good luck.” … AND goodbye.

The problem raced into December. I kept my doctors smiling, as I had as many appointments as five or six per week. Ditto my pharmacy, where I think that I became their No. 1 client. That was my social life. … No big deal, for I had to complete all my work on Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway no later that December 31, 2019, for it to see a spring publication.

I viewed this as do or die. It was that important to me.

At the end of December 2019 another physician took the lead. He discovered that I was bleeding internally, had a terribly low red blood count, and was anemic. To combat this he eliminated the shot and the drugs that controlled my mysterious skin disorder, which he wasn’t interested in, and replaced them with an expanding range of prescriptions—some of which affected my system but not totally in a positive way.

On subsequent visits with him he refused to look at my detailed printouts of my current health situation and would not listen to what I knew was now happening to me. This would cost me big time.

Dr. Kraft becomes Mr. Hyde & here we’re only talking about the transformation of the real me to the monster
The new drugs prescribed at the end of December 2019 were too potent and ongoing for way-too-long. Oh, they would slowly raise my red blood count. They also plugged me up; by the end of January 2020 I had a hernia. No matter what I said about the growing pain, the physician ignored it for I was now set for the first of two procedures that hopefully discover where the internal bleeding was located.

The drugs also did something else. … and somehow prevented the burning attacks upon my face from returning until the beginning of February. When they returned it was like nothing before, for the transformation was horrifying.

This is one of a series of photos that Pailin took on the evening of 3feb2020. It does not do justice to what I then looked like. Here you can see the bulging red puffs under my eyes, the frightening physical change to the structure of my face, and the arrival of wrinkles that are here to stay. I had become Stevenson’s Mr. Hyde. (photo © Pailin Subanna-Kraft & Louis Kraft 2020)

The disease had returned with a vengeance, turning my face into a burning infernal. Like the flames that have destroyed a good part of California the past three years, my skin  burned around the clock. When the skin began to peel, the burning continued, creating new layers of peeling skin below the top layers (trust me, this would be difficult to recreate with makeup).

When Pailin returned home at 9:30 on February 3 I was waiting for her with my cell phone in hand. She cringed when she saw my skin for it was much worse than when she had left for work. I got in her face and asked her to snap a few photos. My next appointment with the physician now in charge was set for the seventh and I wanted proof of what was happening.

I can’t begin to tell you what this does to one’s hope for the future, and especially so since it had been ongoing since June 2019. But now, … NOW I had proof to show the physician currently in charge of my health, even if what had happened disappeared before my appointment.

Sometimes my faith in the medical profession is pushed to the limit. … Changes are a comin’.

I need not have worried, for my new look was going nowhere. Kraft had become Hyde and needed another medical concoction to reverse what I now had become. My  subsequent medical appointment on the seventh was ludicrous. The first procedure, which this doctor had not ordered, proved negative and did not identify the location of my internal bleeding. Still his only interest was the second procedure (which he also did not order). … Not that I was stuffed up, had a blossoming inguinal hernia that now burned, and had my skin problem staring him the face. … “You don’t look so hot,” he finally managed to say. “I don’t feel so hot,” I sarcastically mimicked. He wouldn’t even refer a surgeon for the hernia. The appointment had ended, for there was nothing more to say.

I ran to the office of my doctor that I trusted and walked in unannounced. He saw me immediately, gave me a shot and an old prescription. But this was just a stop gap; I would see him on the thirteenth to discus my future.

Another of the photos that Pailin had taken on 3feb2020, but this one is better for it shows that I’m a benevolent monster. This said, I wasn’t much in the mood for socializing (the U.S. government had downplayed the coronavirus to the point that I didn’t know anyone who felt at risk at that time). (photo © Pailin Subanna-Kraft & Louis Kraft 2020)

Throughout all this I remained Mr. Hyde
I obtained a reference for the hernia surgery, didn’t bother to tell my physician, and met the surgeon. The surgery was set for March 13. Would I make it to that date?

The second procedure was scheduled for February 27, but the hernia pain now grew by the hour. I couldn’t sit for more than five minutes, and standing was almost as bad. I frantically searched for answers without success.

Then, quite by accident, I discovered that if I lay on my back with my legs stretched in front of me the pain went away.

By this time the burning pain reached the point wherein I could no longer sit on a chair. I had to work on my iMac standing—and then no longer than five minutes (but even then I was at risk of not getting back to bed, my only sanctuary).

LK’s special doctor and a bed
On the thirteenth I met with the physician who had stuck with me throughout my skin ordeal, and who I have nothing but praise for as he has listened to me as he fought to figure out what is going on. We had already discussed perhaps me moving to the UCLA Medical Center to continue the testing. On this day he talked about obscure diseases that were hit or miss at best. I had another shot  but there would be no pills. He moved me to a non-steroidal cream. As he said, “It was a shot in the dark.” I couldn’t lose.

I took this image of my new office on 29feb2020. The room also serves as a work space for my delivery to the Chávez History Library later this year, as does the living room and my real office. A huge project that the hernia has put on hold. Oh, that’s a cavalry saber on the wall; you don’t duel with cavalry sabers because it is impossible to do so. (photo © Louis Kraft 2020)

The bed became so important that as soon as there was a hint of trouble I used a cane to wobble to it, for no matter painful the hernia became once I was flat on my back the pain would slowly subside. … But until that time (15 minutes? 20 minutes?), I couldn’t touch the area or push the hernia back into my body.

About two weeks before the hernia surgery I stupidly sat at the iMac as the work was so detailed I couldn’t do it standing. Like an idiot I ignored the pain as I frantically tried to finish the task. … As soon as I stood the pain blew out of control and I struggled to inch my way to the bed. I made it to the room and moved past a wooden cabinet (to the left of the above photo). That was it. I could no longer place my right foot on the floor and the cane couldn’t support my awkward balance with all my weight on it. I couldn’t reach back and grab the cabinet and I still had two large steps to get to the bed. It was daytime. I was alone, although the cell phone was in my pocket. I couldn’t move back or forward, and this left me one choice—dive for the bed. I’ve always been a good athlete, but not worth much at the moment. There was one catch; I had to land on my back. “No guts, no glory.” I dove for the bed, flipping as soon as I was in the air. I landed on my back on the bed, but not all of me. My knees were at the edge of the bed and my calves hung to the floor. The pain increased tenfold. Using my hands I slowly pulled myself onto the bed. Over a half hour passed before the pain subsided.

I needed an “after” photo for this blog to show that I no longer look like the “Kraft-Hyde” that I hope never to see again. Today (5apr2020) we enjoyed ourselves in the front yard of Tujunga House while she shot a few images. (photo © Louis Kraft and Pailin Subanna-Kraft 2020)

I shared my heroic performance with my bro, Glen Williams, and he asked if Pailin had been home to film it. I told him that she hadn’t been home, and he said, “Too bad, for it could have gone viral on YouTube.” That was a first class idea. That night when she returned home I told what had happened and of Glen’s suggestion to film it for YouTube. “No,” she replied. “I think it’s a great idea and I want to reenact it tomorrow.” “No.” “I think that it would be a fun thing to do.” “NO!” … I’m not always the boss.

The second procedure found no internal bleeding. The pre-opt for the surgery showed that my red blood count was up to 13. Yes! The inguinal hernia surgery was successful, but was not robotic as anticipated. Scar tissue from a surgery in 2003 prevented this, and it became an old fashioned cut and slice performance. Unfortunately I wasn’t awake, for I would have requested a “Z” (I really don’t have a Zorro complex). Alas, I have pain, but then I won’t be fully recovered until mid-June (meaning no exercise, no yardwork, no heavy lifting, no bending … no bending? Give me a break!).

Best of all: to date the cream has worked wonders on my face. I’m certain that my physician will be as pleased as I am when I see him on April 6.

As the great New York Yankees catcher Yogi Berra used to say, “It ain’t over till it’s over.” My heart surgeon, a technician from Boston Scientific (the company that manufactured my pacemaker and the device that sits next to my desk and monitors my heart 24/7), were in the room where I awoke from the hernia surgery testing my pacemaker.*

* This is a story I’ll save for the future.

I’m in my prime

I would  be remiss if I didn’t end this blog with Val Kilmer’s great quote from Tombstone (1993) when he played Doc Holliday, a thin, consumptive, alcoholic who played a large role in the 1881 shootout at the OK Corral and the vendetta waged by Wyatt Earp afterwards.

A card of Val Kilmer as Doc Holliday that artist-actor Buck Taylor, who played Jack Johnson in Tombstone, sent me years back. (art © Buck Taylor)

Shortly after Wyatt Earp (Kurt Russell) and Doc have arrived in Tombstone and Wyatt has set himself up as a faro dealer, Curly Bill Brocius (Powers Boothe) and Ike Clanton (Stephen Lang) confront him at a gaming table, pushing for a confrontation.

Johnny Ringo (Michael Biehn) steps up to Doc, who is drunk, shortly after Earp has said that he’s retired: “And you must be Doc Holliday.”

 Doc Holliday (Val Kilmer): “That’s the rumor.”

Johnny Ringo: “You retired too?”

Doc Holliday: “Not me. I’m in my prime.”

And so am I.

Through all this Pailin has been my nurse, my private driver, and an angel.
What more could I want?

Errol Flynn, Kit Carson, & a dark Louis Kraft future

Website & blogs © Louis Kraft 2013-2020

Contact Kraft at writerkraft@gmail.com or comment at the end of the blogs


My past is my future, and my future is mine.
It has arrived and it is time to share.

Music plays a big part in my life …

“From the Indian reservation to the governmental school … and
there are drums beyond the mountain … Indian drums that you can hear.
There are drums beyond the mountain … and they’re getting mighty near. Lone
Pine and Sequoria, Handsome Lake and Sitting Bull, … Crazy Horse the
legend, those who bit off Custer’s soul, … they are dead
but they are living with the great Geronimo. …”

Johnny Cash’s “Bitter Tears,” is one of the best albums ever produced. Except for the song, “Custer,” which is pure fiction and much-much worse, Johnny’s entire album, other than “Custer,” is brilliant.

“Drums” by P. La Farge and performed by Johnny Cash is dated (I originally enjoyed this song on his great album, “Bitter Tears,” which is totally from the American Indian POV on 33 1/3 RPM but only have it now on CD w/o a copyright date). I like Johnny’s music but I’m not his best fan. This said, his “Bitter Tears” album is extraordinary, and is easily near the top of my favorite 10 albums of all time (challenging John Lennon, Michael Parks, Alan Jackson, Patsy Cline, Norah Jones, Laura Branigan, and John Anderson for the leading spots).

If ever I sang in public—God forbid!—this is the song that would lead off my music set. A forthcoming blog will again deal with “the song remembers when,” and you can bet that Cash’s “Bitter Tears” album, along with more on Johnny’s legacy, will be featured in my second blog that focuses on music.

This is me, music, my daily working life, and yes, music plays a big role in my daily life.

The LK writing future begins today

As of today my entire writing future is no longer as it once was. I love my past writing life, but now I’m walking into what will eventually become my second writing past. I know, this sentence tells you nothing. Well hell; I mean good, for we’re making progress here.

You may think that you know me, but you don’t. I share a lot, and perhaps more than most people that you know, but you don’t know me. No one knows me completely, for I’m a very private person. This is totally based upon my past, for it has been one long string of tragedy, failures, and dreams that never happen. It’s my life, and I love it for without it I wouldn’t be me. I wouldn’t be the LK living in at the end of 2019 with all my special memories and special people. Here I’m talking about my huge network of writer-historian-artistic friends as well as all the people I cherish worldwide, for without any of you I would have no life and no future.

This is my first portrait of Ned Wynkoop. I based it on the woodcut that appeared in the May 11, 1867, issue of Harper’s Weekly, which has been in my private collection for decades. It was originally published in Custer and the Cheyenne: George Armstrong Custer’s Military Campaign on the Southern Plains (Upton and Sons, Publishers, 1995). (art © Louis Kraft 1990)

The only way you will ever know me is if I dare to complete that memoir that I’ve talked about off and on over the years. If I dare to complete this project, I will approach it as I do with all of my nonfiction work—attempt to tell the truth wherever that documentation trail leads. I think that Errol Flynn did a magnificent job—with help—of telling the truth in My Wicked, Wicked Ways (Putnum,1959). Perhaps so, but if he had lived to see his book’s publication he would have had his ass sued from here to kingdom come.

Lesson leaned: if you write a truthful memoir, make sure you are dead before it is published. For the record I have spent a good part of my Indian wars nonfiction life writing about two gentlemen who harbored the typical prejudices of life on the frontier (1860s & 1880s), but were able to realize that Cheyennes and Arapahos (1860s) and Apaches (1880s) were human beings. This, ladies and gentlemen, was, and is, a two-way street.

I created this portrait of Gatewood specifically for Lt. Charles Gatewood & His Apache Wars Memoir (University of Nebraska Press, 2005). (art © Louis Kraft 2004). It has since been printed in a magazine and as a post card.

I can’t begin to tell you how many Cheyennes, Arapahos, Apaches, and other American Indians did to accept the invading white man and co-exist peacefully with him. These two white men were Wynkoop and Charles B. Gatewood. Both attempted to write memoirs of their time with the Cheyenne and Arapahos (Wynkoop) and the Apaches (Gatewood). Neither completed a rough draft, and yet they—along with many others on the frontier whose memory changed with time (and remember that they didn’t have all the documentation that I have at my fingertips) have been attacked, for their views don’t coincide with modern-day historians whose tunnel vision is so extreme that they refuse to adjust their preconceived visions of their premises. … Memories change over time. Theirs did, mine does, and so it is with you.

All my work on Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway is finished!

… And this is good.

This is a major statement, for this project has been a massive undertaking.

LK and OU Press editor-in-chief Chuck Rankin at the Western History Association convention in Newport Beach, California, on 17oct2014. (photo © Pailin Subanna-Kraft 2014)

Honestly, I can’t begin to tell how much I have cursed former University of Oklahoma Press editor-in-chief Chuck Rankin over the years, for not walking away when I told him I didn’t want to write a book about the Cheyennes and Arapahos and the heinous attack on their Colorado Territory village on November 29, 1864—an attack that should have never happened for representatives of the U.S. military had guaranteed their safety if they camped there. This said, Chuck is a marvelous person, one I call friend, and since the beginning of this century he has been the key player behind my last three nonfiction Indian wars books. This is no small statement, and I can only wonder where my writing trail would have led if not for him.

Chuck led the way, and opened the door to my relationship with the University of Oklahoma Press; making me one lucky writer, for OU Press is the best publisher of Indian and Indian wars books in the world. Here I really need to talk about my ongoing association with the entire editorial, marketing, and production staff, as well as their copyeditors (which are outsourced). I had requested photos from current editor-in-chief Adam Kane and managing editor Steven Baker (who I have enjoyed working with since Ned Wynkoop and the Lonely Road from Sand Creek), but they’re shy. So was Chuck, but he didn’t learn to duck when I or Pailin pointed a camera or phone at him.

I have completed all of my work on Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway, and Steven Baker is the key reason why. I can’t begin to tell you how patient, understanding, and hard working he is. Steven has had my back during the entire production process (photos and art, three maps, two copyedits, two book proofs, the detailed index, and the dust jacket), and he has done everything to make the book as good as possible. The publication date is March 12, 2020; its preorder listing is on Amazon (and elsewhere), and it includes the dust jacket blurb that is right on target for what the book is about (to see it, click: Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway on Amazon).

OUCH!!!!

The above sounds like it was a slam dunk. Not even close, for I can’t remember the last day I had off until this Christmas, which I did take off—and it was special.

But, this book was special too …
At the beginning of the project I constantly struggled with my decision to sign the contract. And even more so as the days, weeks, months, and years flashed by with no end in sight. Eventually I grew into the project, accepted it, and looked forward to what the next day would bring. I needed to walk with as many of the participants in the lead up to the murder of people at Sand Creek in Colorado Territory in 1864 as possible. More important, I had to separate myself and attempt to view their words and actions in their point of view. I also had to place myself within the village on that fatal day. I had to see the scramble to survive, the sexual butchery, and more—the aftermath that led to end of the Cheyenne and Arapahos’s freedom, religion, language, and lifeway. Little more than prisoners of war they would do what the white man dictated, or face the consequences.

All my books live on in my life, but Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway has become the centerpiece of my writing life. If I became homeless and could only have one piece from my writing life with me, it would be this book.

My work on Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway is over

But it isn’t, for I never stop learning and there’s always add-on work (alas, there is another piece of my life that will impact my future).

Some of what is coming:

  • An ongoing relationship with Editor Stuart Rosebrook and True West magazine in 2020 and beyond. It will include articles related to the Sand Creek story, as well as articles dealing with my writing past and hopefully future.
    • This began in earnest this December when I delivered the first article on Cheyenne chief Black Kettle.
  • Upcoming talks with Gordon Yellowman, and LK solo.
    • At the moment, Gordon and I have a confirmed talk at the Washita Battlefield National Historic Site in Cheyenne, Oklahoma, on November 8, 2020. I will talk about Cheyenne chief Black Kettle. I’ll also talk about the attack on the Sand Creek village while the Called Out People flee for their lives at the University of New Mexico in October.
  • A massive delivery to the Louis Kraft Collection at the Chávez History Library, Museum of New Mexico, Santa Fe. It is mandatory for I cite it often in Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway. A lot of work has already been put into preparing for this delivery, but I’m not close to selecting everything that will be making the trip.

LK standing in front of the exterior entry to the Chávez History Library on July 4, 2006. (photo Louis Kraft © 2006)

    • It will include my writing, research, correspondence, photos, and art from my writing since the last delivery, plus information from my past that I had not yet provided.
    • It will also include writing from my past that I completed but never sold such as proposals and manuscripts, as well as artifacts that I own, but now believe belong in a museum for everyone to view and experience (and not be kept in a private collection).
      • We’re talking about Indian wars, and the Golden Age of the Cinema artifacts.
    • Finally, I may include research, correspondence, and drafts from projects that I haven’t completed, and perhaps now never will.

Let’s take another music break

There’s a lot of music in my life. Much of it’s world music from the Andes to Spain, Cuba, Mexico, China, Thailand, and beyond—and this includes the massive amount wonderful American Indian instrumentals and vocals. Of course there’s soundtracks, some classical, and you can bet your bottom dollar on rock ‘n roll and country and a little bit of blues.

Deportee (Plane Wreck at Los Gatos)                           

The crops are all in and the peaches are rotten,
The oranges are packed in the creosote dumps.
They’re flyin’ them back to the Mexican border,
To save all their money then wade back again.
My father’s own father, he waded that river:
Others before him had done just the same.
They died in the hills and they died in the valleys;
Some went to heaven without any name.

This great album also featured a song that I played at my brother’s funeral in March 1990 (“Highwayman”). Lee was a rebel, and so have been these four singers. All five have influenced my life more that I could ever share.

Four singers have stood out: Waylon Jennings, Willie Nelson, Johnny Cash, and Kris Kristofferson. Instead of beginning as a member of a band (such as John Lennon with the Beatles), they formed a band long after they attained solo success as The Highwaymen. I luckily saw Waylon perform live at the famed Palomino Club in North Hollywood when he was young, and Willie when he was old, but not ancient, at the Hollywood Bowl. Alas, I never saw Johnny or Kris perform, and worse never saw The Highwaymen live.

Goodbye to my Juan, goodbye Rosalita;
Adios mi amigos; Jesus y Maria.
You won’t have a name when you ride the big airplane.
All they will call you, will be: “Deportee.”

Some of us are illegal and others not wanted;
Our work contract’s out and we have to move on.
Six hundred miles to the Mexican border.
They chase us like rustlers, like outlaws, like thieves.

Obviously “Deportee (Plane Wreck at Los Gatos)” is one of my favorite songs. Many artists have sung it, but my favorite version is by The Highwaymen with Johnny taking the lead.

Goodbye to my Juan, goodbye Rosalita;
Adios mi amigos; Jesus y Maria.
You won’t have a name when you ride the big airplane.
All they will call you, will be: “Deportee.”

Woody Guthrie wrote the song in response to a plane crash in California on January 28, 1948 (music by Martin Hoffman), in which racist newspaper and radio reporting of the tragic event refused to name the deceased and grouped all of them as “deportees.”

The sky plane caught fire over Los Gatos canyon;
A fireball of thunder, it shook all the hills.
Who are all of these dear friends, scattered like dry leaves?
The radio said they were just “Deportees.”

Goodbye to my Juan, goodbye Rosalita;
Adios mi amigos; Jesus y Maria.
You won’t have a name when you ride the big airplane.
All they will call you, will be: “Deportee.”

This is one of the saddest songs I have ever listened to, and it affects me every time I hear it, for it reminds me of how callus, inhuman, racist, and hateful our homeland has become since that dark flash of time in 1948 that is now long gone.

Woody Guthrie (right) was a singer-songwriter before his time. He documented what he saw and what disturbed him. This is something that all of us should do—document our world, current and past. … I try to do this. 

One other small impact to what’s coming

Something is going down in my life, and I don’t know what it is. Actually, no one does. What follows is optimistic. Heck, I’m always optimistic. I had been enjoying myself by stating that I needed to live to 130 to complete all of my projects, and that was probably a true statement. But times have changed, and that has led to a revised and much-shortened blog. There are two books that I have a realistic chance of completing first or polished drafts of in 2020. There are two follow-up manuscripts to these books that require more research, and that will begin in 2020. … My future is out there, and it will impact what I just stated.

Errol Flynn is the perfect lead-in to my writing future

Why? The answer is simple: he is the leading player in my writing future. This said, I don’t want to mislead you for as in the past I mix and match all my work. Flynn and Olivia de Havilland have had a presence in my talks and published work since the mid-1990s. It hasn’t been large, but it exists. Come 2020, everything changes in my priorities. This doesn’t mean that I’m turning my back on the Sand Creek saga, or the major players (such as Black Kettle, Little Raven, Ned Wynkoop, and so on) for I’m not. It also doesn’t mean that I’m walking away from the Indian wars, for I’m not.

Why Mr. Flynn?

For the record, two of EF’s films influenced my entire writing future, but I was clueless when a teenager. What can I say? Life if great! (LK art of EF as George Armstrong Custer in They Died with their Boos On (1941),  © Louis Kraft 2013)

Simply put, I had set out to write a trilogy about his life. This grew to four with two partnered and the elimination of my third proposed solo manuscript. The year 2019 has been unlike any I’ve experienced in the past. Something happened, and it is impacting my life.

My brain functions; it keeps me alive, and I love it. I’m one lucky cowboy.

But you know me—I need to get personal before the main event

Let’s begin with that there is a lot going on in my life that you aren’t privy to. Most likely you’ll never be privy due to my being obscure (and this is an understatement). Bottom line, I’m a tease. It’s fun in the here and now, but a drag when long distance (and again, an understatement). It’s just me; sorry.

Times are tough, but it’s a lot more. This needs to be broken into subheadings (but they don’t deal with the understatements), for all of them are major to me. Let’s start with the land I love.

SoCal and Los Angeles

Ladies and gents I could write a book about my homeland. It would be nonfiction, and I would both praise and damn it. I’m going to start with a few positives that are out of this world:

  • Los Angeles is the melting pot of the USA
    • More people of different race and more languages are spoken in Los Angeles than any other city in the USA
  • The culture at my fingertips is astronomical
  • The diversity of restaurants are beyond belief (ditto the grocery stores)
  • Our weather is to dream for temperature wise
  • There are major archives that host subjects that have been and are key to my writing past and future

This image of Los Angeles and the San Gabriel Mountains was taken by Luis Sinco on 26dec2019 and printed in the Los Angeles Times on 27dec2019. (© Los Angeles Times 2019)

That’s right, I live in a writer’s wonderland (some might say, “a winter wonderland”). Go ahead and chuckle, but you can’t deny that this is why some of you rip LA time and again—jealousy.

The bad—that is, the very bad

Let’s begin this with I was accused of being a traitor for considering leaving the USA a year or two back. It ended a friendship. I’m good with this. Nothing more need be said, other than my exploration for where I and my loved ones could perhaps continue to live without joining the living dead that walk the streets of LA is constantly with me.

Know that I will never become a homeless person.

I’m not just talking about LA and SoCal but all of California. We now have four designations of people:

  • The rich class
  • The middle class, many of whom are now approaching the lower class
  • The lower class, many of whom are now approaching the homeless class
  • The homeless class
    I’m not going to say much about the homeless class, other than some (many more than “some”) have jobs, but they can no longer afford to own a home or to rent lodging.

LA Times columnist Steve Lopez keeps me updated

Steve (the dot and line image of him–left–reminds me of the woodcuts that I own and use from the 19th century in my writing, and I think that it’s terrific, and The Times prints it with all of his articles). He is one of numerous great columnists that the The Times employs, and let me tell you that they are worth the cost of the paper (Front page; plus California, Business, and Calendar sections), and without knowing, all of them must have staffs that supply much needed information (I need to feature them in future blogs, for their work is exceptional). This said, Steve walks the streets of Los Angeles, and he knows many of the people he writes about personally. He is a gentleman that I would like to know and hang out with. (art of Lopez © Los Angeles Times)

On 15dec2019 Steve continued his ongoing expose on the homeless situation in Los Angeles. It is both outrageous and heartbreaking. Some of Steve’s words and facts are all that need be said (they are from his front page column).

Steve began his December 15 column with: “Sometimes I wish I hadn’t seen the body up close, or the small pool of blood that dribbled out of the man’s mouth and onto a West Los Angeles sidewalk. I also wish I hadn’t seen the dead man’s open, empty eyes when he was turned over for examination by the coroner investigator.”

He was talking about a 61-year old man he knew, a married man, and father of five, who had some mental problems. This man, who shouldn’t be dismissed as little more than nobodies as the “deportees” were in Woody Guthrie’s magnificent song (above), lived. He walked the streets of LA, he was a human being, and he should not have had his end happen this way.

Several years back the residents of Los Angeles voted to increase taxes to aid and home the homeless. Not much has happened, but as Steve shockingly reports: Alvin Robinson was the 680th homeless death on the streets of LA this year (two more would die on the day of his death). As of his column of the fifteenth, 962 homeless people have died in Los Angeles County. Going back to 2013, the death count is over 5,620. These statistics are not acceptable. Los Angeles city and county needs to do something, or this epidemic is going to explode into a living nightmare of hell.

The good—that is, the very good (I’m being snarky)

It seems like the rest of the USA bitches that SoCal has no seasons. We have seasons, but they aren’t as traumatic as a good portion of the rest of our homeland. We don’t have snow and freezing temperatures six months out of the year. Let me tell you how much I hear friends—good friends—who complain about a snowstorm in April but who hate SoCal for our weather. The weather varies depending upon where we live, and now scientists in a recent report have guaranteed what all of us have experienced during the last three or four years is here to stay. That is raging firestorms, drought, freezing and snowbound winters, tornados, and hurricanes—all of which are pounding the hell out of Mother Earth.

House insurance is tripling in Los Angeles County in 2020;
making me one step closer to being a traitor to my country.
That’s right, I’m never going to get over that F—ing accusation.

I guess the above isn’t very good, but since all of us want a future I can say only one thing: If this is our future it is all we have (unless we change it). I wish it wasn’t so, but at the same time I’m thrilled to be alive. For me, this is “very good.”

I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the dark side

The 2019 fire season was again hell in SoCal.

This photo appeared in the Los Angeles Times on 29oct2019. The image was captured on the 28th; that was the day that Pailin couldn’t get out of the San Fernando Valley (see the text directly below this photo). I don’t know if you know, but the City of Los Angeles and the County of Los Angeles are a series of mountain ranges and valleys. The SFV has been threatened from the north, east, south, and west for the last three years. I don’t need to repeat what might happen if these fires aren’t stopped. In 2018 over 1100 LA County firefighters earned $100,000 in overtime; the number of firefighters with this amount of overtime pay is going to increase in 2019. The threat is no joke, and it makes the infamous California earthquakes second-class citizens. (photo © Los Angeles Times 2019)

The recent rain storms perhaps saved Santa Barbara, and certainly one of the famed Spanish missions that range across the state. The Ronald Reagan Presidential Library in Simi Valley, west of the San Fernando Valley, where I live, suffered $550 million in damage this summer but the buildings luckily survived. As always the SFV was attacked from various directions and twice fires blazed within five miles of my house (the northern side of the valley and Warner Bros. on the south side) and on another occasion within six miles.

This last was the (you choose the name) the Sepulveda Pass or the 405 freeway or the Getty Museum fire. The 405 separates the SFV from the Westside of Los Angeles (Westwood, UCLA, Brentwood, Beverly Hills, Santa Monica, Venice).

I took this image (right) of my beautiful wife on 11Dec2019 when we drank cups of good coffee at the Mercedes-Benz of Encino dealership. This is a first-class establishment, and we enjoy our time there. (photo by LK and © Pailin Subanna-Kraft & Louis Kraft 2019)

Pailin is a contractor and all of her work is on the Westside. On 28oct2019, when the blaze began (and all the southbound lanes in the Sepulveda Pass and the 405 freeway shut down), she spent over three and a half hours trying to get out of the valley and failed. If a major fire invades the SFV (and the threat has been constant the last three years), which has 1.7+ million residents (this is a .4 increase from the previous number of people I had reported), let me tell you hundreds of thousands of people will not escape the inferno.

The Books

Errol & Olivia

This book has been in the works for a long time. All I can say here is, bless all of my Errol Flynn and Olivia de Havilland fans for your patience. More important, your time has arrived, and that is that E&O will be my next published nonfiction book.* However you feel about this, it is at least a thousand times more important to me.

* I currently have 60,000+ words (some polished) and plan on a total of 125,000 words.

There’s still more writing, more polishing, and more research (research never ends). Hopefully when the book is published you will like it. I can promise you one thing, and that is that this book will not be like any book you have ever read about Errol Flynn or Olivia de Havilland in the past.Although I have shared this, the book will deal with their life and times during the eight films they made together at Warner Bros. between 1935 and 1941. I prefer to use art of them on the book cover, but if I can’t obtain the rights to use a painting or illustration that includes both of them that is appropriate for the dust jacket, I will use a photo (this will be easy to do, for I already know which series of images I’m going to pull from, but if this is the case I won’t share it until the cover design is final). One thing is certain, one of these photos from this portion of their time together will be in the book, for there are numerous images that are magnificent.

As with all my Indian wars nonfiction, this book will contain notes that point the reader to the location of the primary source research. There is a reason for this, and it is twofold. It allows anyone—a writer-historian or anyone else who has an interest in EF & OdeH—to view the material. This information should not be secretive, nor should it be hidden from the public.

On the dark side, way too often “would-be” historians create
their own facts and quotations while citing obscure historic documentation
that they think will not be viewed for no one has it or can obtain it. Vagueness
is not golden. You do not want to know my view of these slimeballs.

What has been printed is way too often in error

Hey folks, there are a lot of errors in print. Some are by writers who believed what they found in primary documentation or from books whose authors they trusted. I certainly am one of these writers. In the past I used quotes that were cited from documents in the National Archives (the cited material and how it was listed was pristine, but I didn’t have the original material to check and trusted the author (whose book I still have and like a lot). I’m a little ahead of myself here, but this is okay.

This image probably is confusing, and certainly for being placed here. Those of you who know me well, know that I have a very deep connection with film. These films feature Rod Taylor as the pirate Francis Drake and Jon Hall as the frontiersman Kit Carson. Both films are slightly above being B-films, but both, for the most part, represent the sole representation of these key players in British and American history on film. Both, if produced by a major American film studio could have been much better. They weren’t; my loss (and perhaps yours also). More below but only on one of these gentlemen.

In the mid-1990s I had written a Kit Carson article for either Arizona Highways or Persimmon Hill. The publication used peer reviewers who were subject-matter experts (this is how it should always be), and my article was rejected as the historical quotes were incorrect. I compared the quotes I submitted in the article with the quoted material from the book (mentioned above) and the words I submitted were spot-on. I had not erred, but I now knew that the author of the book or one of his editors blind edited the quotations (and left the reader in the dark). This was a lesson I never forgot. If I change text—let’s say from a lower case letter to upper case or rewrite a word or two—they are always in brackets. Copyeditors often silently delete my brackets. They don’t realize that during copyedits I read each and every word and check everything against what I submitted. When required I re-add the brackets, and in each instance tell them exactly why I did this, and that they are not going to delete the brackets.

In the past I have missed some blind edits and when I see them (often years later)
I scream at the heavens (and my language isn’t printable here).

Charles Higham made a lot of money by creatively creating false facts about major film stars. When I questioned Olivia de Havilland about what he wrote about her and sister Joan Fontaine, all she shared was “he is an unscrupulous man.” I have this quote in a letter from her, and it will be delivered to the Louis Kraft Collection in the near future.

There are other errors that often see print. Often they are created by lazy writers who do little research, but others are created by wannabe historians to sell books. Their false facts are heinous, and I’m being kind here. Unfortunately, there are way too many of these cretins that create fiction—that is facts and quotes—while falsifying obscure sources. I chuckle over this, for often I have their “obscure sources” in-house and you can take it to the bank that I check each and every note in their travesties that cites documentation that I have.

I’m certain that their point-of-view is that you can’t be arrested and put on trial for defaming the dead in the USA, which is true. Let’s look at this another way: these wannabe’s think that defaming the dead is their key to mega bucks. Snarky Kraft has a dark view of writers who defame the dead while creating false histories that are based upon their fallacious—that is their intended and deceptive—lies.

Worse, some of these deceptions are being reproduced in articles, books, and online. Hell, if it has been printed, it must be true. Nothing could be farther from the truth. I have been pinged for pointing out egregious errors in my Indian wars writing, and if it happens again—so be it.

How can errors be corrected if they are ignored?

How I approach documenting facts

Simple: by dealing with them when I am aware of them. Alas, often changes happen after I have seen whatever version of the edits that I will see. When this happens … Well, hell, you do not want to hear my view, for it isn’t printable. Unfortunately, my vocabulary is at times X-rated (those of you who know me, mostly consider me a kind-hearted soul who wouldn’t hurt an insect). The truth be known, ask my first wife, my daughter, Cindy Tengan, Diane Moon, Pailin, or others who know me intimately, and they’ll tell you that when upset LK is someone to avoid.

This LK art is based upon an early 1970s photo negative that was degraded to the point that it could never be restored. The photo was taken in my parent’s house and I didn’t want to lose it. I created the art  based upon the negative in the 2013 timeframe, and although it doesn’t date to the last half of first decade of this century it presents a good look at my former attitude—that is: shoot first and ask questions later. (art ©  Louis Kraft 2013)

This is not me being kind to me, for way too often in the past I found it difficult to control my outrage.

Here’s an example, but years have passed and I have mellowed with time. I needed to buy a new landline phone because mine had broken. “How?” the sales person wanted to know. “It just broke,” I replied. My then long-time lady friend Diane Moon was with me, and she spoke up. “He threw the phone at the wall and bashed it to pieces.”

As I just said, I have mellowed with time.
It’s long over a decade since I’ve killed a phone.

If I ever complete that memoir, and it is printed, I hope that you won’t faint. Sorry, but that’s just part of life. The truth is always much better than fiction when writing about people’s lives and the events in them. As a nonfiction writer, I have a responsibility to tell the truth as I have discovered it.

**********

Errol & Olivia will go in directions you may not expect,
but will add to their working time together, and will hopefully present
more insight into their professional and personal lives.

Book covers are of major importance …

… and I have played a major role in every one of mine since Upton and Sons published Custer and the Cheyenne in 1995. It’s a non-brainer, for a good cover can increase book sales.

This art appeared on DVDs and other media (I have a poster of it) and I like it or it wouldn’t appear here. Still, it is not close the 1976 United Artists Classic poster for the revival showing of their classic film in Los Angeles that year, which has better art, mimics the 1938 original poster while also being superior to the initial release art. Regardless of my view of The Adventures of Robin Hood, it is their iconic film for all time. Alas, it wasn’t close to their best film (or films) together. Still, it is must viewing for anyone who has an interest in Flynn or de Havilland’s film careers. (LK collection)

I want art of Mr. Flynn and Miss de Havilland on the cover of Errol & Olivia. To date I only have a cover from a long-dead magazine that I like. This said, there is a lot of great illustration art on film posters from days long gone. American, French, Spanish, German (some of the German art of the late 1940s is to die for), … This is perhaps a good way to go, but it will include two must-needed things (other than negotiating with the copyright owner, and that is: 1) Can the poster art be altered, and 2) What is the use fee?

Let’s discuss the poster art at the right. To make it work as a dust jacket cover is simple: 1) Remove the cover text within the shield and replace it with the book title and author credit, and 2) Remove the acting credits at the bottom right of the poster (Errol and Olivia’s credits must remain at the upper left—to balance the image while informing potential readers what the book is about).

Decisions, decisions, decisions.
I have time, but not much for I’m going to fly
through the completion of the first draft of Errol & Olivia.

But what if I can’t obtain the rights to use a painting or illustration that includes both of Errol and Olivia that is appropriate for a dust jacket? No problem, for I will use a photo from a very key point in their time together. The photos from this time are absolutely magnificent, but I’ve already said this above.

A first draft of Errol & Olivia in 2020 … Oops! How about 2021?

Oh yeah, this is going to happen. More important, ladies and gents, this isn’t a wild LK dream. But alas, this first draft of the manuscript will not be by the end of 2020—it is now by the end of 2021. The reason is simple; the year 2020 is going to busy and at this moment my goal is to deliver all I’ve promised through next fall, some of which is mentioned above. This said, with the publication of Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway in spring 2020, the demands upon my writing life is going to expand. Working seven days a week has been my past and it certainly is going to be in my future. It includes stolen time with Pailin and my family. Although trips are work, they are also R&R, and they give me additional time with Pailin and my daughter—they are special time for me, and I love it.

But this isn’t the end of Mr. Flynn

During the year 2020 I will officially begin my research on a second nonfiction book on him. Some of it is already in house, but there is much to do. I’m certain that I’ve discussed the project in the past. If so, shame on me, for it should be a surprise. As with all my biographical efforts I prefer to focus on a piece of time, and again this will be the case. For those of you who have interest in this man, who was not only a good actor and writer, but perhaps the most un-racial person I’ve ever studied and written about, it will be worth the wait.

Another piece to LK’s writing future is also in the here and now

Originally it was a genre novel that dealt with race relations during the 1863-1864 Navajo campaign. As always in my fiction, the story was character-driven and dealt with the human element.

I can’t remember who took this image but he kindly sent me a low resolution of it. The photo was taken at the Little Big Horn Associates convention in Oklahoma City on 18jun2011, when Custer and the Cheyenne received the Jay D. Smith award for its contribution to Custeriana. A good night for LK.

It had been contracted in the early 1990s, but then the contract was broken. If this hadn’t had happened I would have never become a writer of nonfiction Indian wars books.

Never.

This is/was probably the luckiest unplanned change in my writing life, and I am forever grateful to Dick Upton of Upton and Sons, Publishers, for he had been pitching me to write a nonfiction book on George Armstrong Custer. I had been turning him down, but after the novel when belly up I called Dick. Probably one of the most important phone calls I ever made. I only have a few words to say about this—Bless you Dick, and your wonderful wife Frankie, for without you I would not have enjoyed the last 26 years of my writing life. Click the link to see my thoughts on Dick and Frankie when Custer and the Cheyenne won the Jay D. Smith award in 2011.

Navajo Blood

I’ve always liked my title for the contracted novel mentioned above. After the polished draft was accepted, the publisher (which was unfortunately nearing the end of life), dropped their western line. This story, which I’ve always liked, was exiled to a filing cabinet until this year. Like The Final Showdown (Walker and Company, 1992), it deals with real historical events and people who lived through them, and again has major fictional characters.

Kit Carson meeting with General James Carleton (left in art). For my purposes it is before the 1863-64 Navajo campaign and Carson is just receiving his orders. This was a task he didn’t want, and he has been damned for it, but by people who don’t know who he was or what he attempted to do to end a war he wanted no part of. For all the racist crap about Carson, consider this: he spoke seven languages and had three wives (Arapaho, Cheyenne, and Spanish). A racist? I don’t think so. This image is a detail from a painting on display at the Bosque Redondo Memorial (Fort Summer, N.Mex.). If you have never been there, I highly recommend it.

Mixing and matching of real and fictional players is something I like doing. In this case we’re talking about Kit Carson, his wife Josefa, and their children, as well as General James Carleton, and officers under Carson’s command during the 1863-1864 Navajo campaign, and major Navajo chiefs Manuelito and Barboncito. There are three leading players in the story: an aging fictional Navajo warrior (Pedro Hueros), his granddaughter (Margarita), and Carson. These three people converge on each other, and once they meet their paths lead toward tragedy—albeit not what you expect. It is a story about human beings forced into times that they want no part of, but must experience.

Tucson, June 2019, was R&R while opening doors to my writing future.
I’ve well-documented my meeting with Stuart Rosebrook and True West magazine,
but I have ignored a chance meeting while leaving the Western Writers of
America (WWA) convention’s hotel with Cherry Wiener (my agent
for
The Final Showdown, and a lady that I have always had a
good relationship with since our parting a long time gone).

If I walked to my left from this overlook I would be looking at the western side of Navajo Fortress Rock. (Photo © Louis Kraft 2012)

While in Tucson this past June I brought a number of the chapters the Navajo Blood manuscript with me to mark them up with how I wanted to update it—mainly 1) More character development, 2) More culture, 3) More dialogue, 4) More action, and 5) Writing the story as I do now, while not forgetting how I wrote it in the past. This is all doable due to adding an extra 35,000 words to the genre novel’s 65,000-word draft and turning it into an historical novel. This will begin in earnest hopefully in 2021, which makes this endeavor a sister piece to E&O. I don’t want to say that they’re joined at the hip, but they are the two major projects in my current life.

This is Navajo Fortress Rock. It is in Canyon del Muerto (the canyon of death), which is one of three canyons that are jointly known as Canyon de Chelly (pronounced “de Shay”). This is the only American national monument not on USA land—it is in Arizona on the Navajo Reservation. This view is from the north, and the only way to see it from this angle is to hire a Navajo tour guide with a four-wheel drive vehicle. It is a key set piece for Navajo Blood. (Photo © Louis Kraft 2012)

The plot is detailed and moves between Carson’s dilemma, that is Carleton’s demand to end the Diné’s—as the Navajos call themselves—freedom, and Pedro and Margarita’s struggle to survive at this time of woe. As the story progresses you’ll become aware that the final confrontation between the Diné and Carson’s army will take place at Canyon de Chelly, but this isn’t the ending. The story’s climax takes place at Fort Canby, after the Navajos have begun to surrender by the hundreds. It brings tears to my eyes every time I review it, but I can’t share this. The book has to be published for you to experience what happened at Fort Canby. Know that I’m cocky SOB, and have full confidence in this story seeing print.

Untitled Kit Carson/Indian nonfiction book

The announcements in this blog may have been expected, or perhaps not. But now I’ve reached my nonfiction Indian wars future—and Kit Carson and his relationship with Indians is it. Over the last few decades he has garnered a lot of bad press. I disagree with all of it. … All of it! Anyone who explores this un-racial man’s life will agree with me.

I have work to do—that is research—but it will happen, and his relationship with American Indians will dominate this portion of my writing future. I can’t begin to tell you how thrilled I am to really begin walking with him and the Indians in his life.

This nonfiction book idea has been with me for a long time, but I still need more primary source material to make it become reality. The goal is to complete this research in 2021 (I know, the next two years are a mouthful, but I’m always ambitious). At this moment all I can tell you is that the research will dictate the scope of the manuscript. I know what I’d like it to be, I know what I think it should be, but I must have the research to confirm what happened. … And some of it is so obscure that at this time I’m in the dark.

As soon as I have the research in-house and have a good idea of what the book will be I’ll talk with OU Press. At the moment there is a little uncertainty of my future with them, for the two terrific editors-in-chief that I have dealt with (Chuck Rankin and Adam Kane) will be gone. Still, OU Press is “the” publisher of American Indians and American Indian wars books in the world. They are my first choice. At the same time I know that other nonfiction publishers will jump after hearing the story idea. As the X-Files used to proclaim: “The future is out there.”

The above is all that is a comin’ at this time

I have hinted at the reason for this above
(and that a lot of future writing has been purged from this blog).

In June 2019 I enjoyed a work and R&R trip to Tucson, Arizona, a city I fell in love with in the 1970s. I can’t begin to tell you how much time I’ve spent there, but it is easily over six months throughout the years. … This past June something happened. I don’t know what, and neither do any of my doctors or their tests. Whatever happened, the attacks are constant and happen twice a month. Shots and drugs stop the fire, but nothing has ended it. This month I filled out the paperwork, which will hopefully garner me more paperwork to see if I can—that is will my drug insurance accept the extremely high cost, and more important that I can afford it (I know this answer now, and it is no). This drug, which may put an end to this misery, is going to remain unnamed (at least now). The year 2019 has been pure hell with drug and medical costs. My drug cost is well over $4,000. Pailin’s and my entire health care cost for 2019 is over $18,000, and this doesn’t include $6,000 USA dollars spent outside the country. …

During one of the episodes I chose not to initiate another
round of shots and drugs and the fire did not go away.

The impact has already begun …

… and it is ongoing. But I do believe that I will see Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway published. I want to hold the book in my hand. This is an extreme statement and hopefully little more than nervousness on my part. Earlier this fall I saw an allergist twice. He performed over 260 needle tests during my two visits three weeks apart. After the second, he said: “I don’t know what’s wrong, but what you have I have never seen before. I can’t help you. Good luck.”

What you are looking at is a photo that Pailin took on the morning of 4oct2019. My face had creamed, burned, and has begun to peel. This is the first night-day of my problem. My face will now puff out and a triangular bulge under my eyes will move to my temples. Also, my back will become a rectangle of bumps, but they will only itch. The redness on my face will grow to a burn that is so extreme that I won’t sleep. The only way to avoid this is to get a shot and a huge package of prescription pills that will stop the process momentarily. After the pills end, I will have perhaps three, four, or at the most six days until the process again begins. With drugs, this is a twice-a-month happening. Honestly, it is hell without an end.  (photo © Pailin Subanna-Kraft 2019)

Just seven months ago i could walk 14 miles a week (and did). Now walking a quarter mile is extreme foolishness. I’m not going to go into any details but a lot of normal physical pieces of daily life are involved. Do not ask, for all I intend to share will be below.

In November I began to bleed internally. On December 23, when I presented my condition to the doctor who had been handling my case in the hope of obtaining yet another shot and drugs so that I would look presentable on Christmas, it ended in a “no.” The reason was simple: there had been no improvement over the months and now my condition had begun to change in a way he couldn’t deal with medically.

That December 23 initiated the beginning of my future, and one that is darker than before. I walked into another of my doctor’s offices, one who has played a big part in my health for decades. He knew what was going on, but wasn’t involved, and immediately began a series of tests. But like when I was cracking my skull open a few years back, something that led directly to an emergency surgery (and not just stapling my head back together), but giving me a new life in August 2017. These tests were an eye opener. Mainly my red blood count was extremely low, my balance non-existent, and my breathing belly-up (last May I passed all my breathing tests with flying colors, but on December 23 I failed every breathing test I took).

Pailin and I took this photo at Tujunga House on 18oct2019, two days before her niece and only relative in the USA (Sabrina) and Carlos (who is from El Salvador) married at Wat Thai of Los Angeles. We were in the wedding, but I wore my suit pants (Carlos wore the Thai pants in the ceremony) and Pailin looked as she did in this image. I had luckily dodged my transformation into a monster and this was a good time. (photo Pailin Subanna-Kraft & Louis Kraft 2019)

The testing is ongoing, and I’m prepared for each and every step of the process. I’m always proactive with my physicians. … My last medical appointment this year was on December 27. I walked into the office with a five-page document, which listed the medications and my changing physical status since last I saw him in early fall. We then discussed the reason for my visit, which was for a series of tests that we perform three to four times each year (and they aren’t related to my current situation). While we went through the process he raised the idea of my current physician in charge perhaps sending me to either the USC or the UCLA medical school to see if they have done any testing similar to what I’m experiencing.*

* Good friend and George Armstrong Custer and Little Bighorn battle expert and author Fred Wagner recently provided me with another lead that I intend to look into—that perhaps a parasite is the culprit.

After we completed my last test (an ultrasound; my third last week), he asked about my writing. I told him that I completed the detailed Sand Creek index in November, my reviews of the two book proofs in December, as well as signing off on the dust jacket, while adding that I had submitted my first article to True West on December 22. He shook his head and smiled. “I can’t believe that you did all of that in your condition,” he said. “My brain functions,” I replied, “and I love what I do.” He smiled again. “Good for you.”

Oh yeah, I’ve always been one lucky cowboy.

What is the future?

I don’t know what’s in front of me, other than I’ll cherish each and every moment of it. One thing is certain, and that is finances and health will be key in the upcoming years. I’m looking forward to whatever it will be.

If it is a race against time, I’ll have everything that I want—
my small family, my friends, my writing, and myself.

March 2020 publication date for Louis Kraft’s Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway

Website & blogs © Louis Kraft 2013-2020

Contact Kraft at writerkraft@gmail.com or comment at the end of the blogs


More’s a comin’ …

Gordon Yellowman’s art symbolically shows the Sand Creek village on November 28, 1864, and then on November 29, 1864.

More’s a comin’ … and this has been a comin’ for a long-long time. The University of Oklahoma Press will publish Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway in March 2020. The book cover design has been completed, and the art is the only image I ever considered for the dust jacket. In 1999 I met Cheyenne chief Gordon Yellowman, when we both spoke at a major event at the Fort Larned National Historic Site in Kansas. During the conference Gordon and Cheyenne chief Lawrence Hart blessed the Cheyenne-Dog Man-Lakota village, which is some 35 miles to the west of the fort (it was added to the National Register of Historic Places on June 17, 2010). During the day of the talks, Gordon was selling prints of his painting, “Sand Creek.” I bought one, framed it, and it has been displayed at Tujunga House ever since. He was thrilled when I called him to ask if I could use his art on the cover. When he said, “yes,” I was more thrilled.

Gordon Yellowman’s art symbolically shows the Sand Creek village on November 28, 1864, and then on November 29, 1864. The book is now listed on Amazon; it includes the dust jacket copy, which gives you a good idea of what the book is about: Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway on Amazon for pre-order.

To keep this short, … I show, that is show and not tell, the story from all sides. Cheyennes and Arapahos, whites that married into the tribes, their offspring, whites that coveted Indian land, and whites who spoke out against the massacre at Sand Creek (Colorado Territory). There are no good guys and no bad guys; they are all just people. I use their actions and words to show you who they were …

The scope and the problem that it presented

LK portrait of Chuck Rankin, which is based upon a photo of him that Pailin took of him at the WHA convention in Newport Beach, Calif., on 17oct2014. (art © Louis Kraft 2014)

From the beginning when former OU Press editor in chief Chuck Rankin and I were working on trying to come up with a story idea that that both of us would agree to, this has been pure hell. To begin with, I didn’t want to write the book. However, if I did, the scope would be large and not focus on an attack on Cheyenne and Arapaho village circles camped on Sand Creek in Colorado Territory on November 29, 1864. These people thought that they had been removed from the 1864 Cheyenne war, and were at peace until they heard otherwise from the U.S. military. This I made clear to Chuck, and we talked and then talked more and more. I’m one lucky cowboy to have had Chuck in my corner, for without him I would have never have agreed to write this book. Egotism aside, and regardless of what anyone thinks of Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway, it will be the most important book that I ever write. Chuck, thank you from the bottom of my heart.

The Sand Creek manuscript status …

I don’t know. I hate to say it, but this is the story of my life—I don’t know.

This photo was taken in early 1980. Shortly after the time of our mother’s death (4jan1980) my brother Lee and I, along with some of his friends (all of whom I knew), created a ball team—the Kool-Aid Kids. It was the beginning of a golden decade for both of us as we eventually had three seasons and played year round. We had always been close, but these years linked us forever. This ended on 6mar1990 when Lee died in a car wreck (he was a passenger). This day was, and still is, the most devastating day of my life. (photo © Louis Kraft 1980)

I know what I’m doing to try and make something happen in 2020. Will I hit a home run (we’re talking baseball here)? My batting average is pretty good, so whenever the opportunity is in front of me I swing for the fence. Sometimes I hit a home run, and sometimes I strike out. There’s a saying in baseball, and it is important. If you don’t come to the plate and bat, you can’t strike out. At the same time, you can’t hit a home run. The risk of striking out is worth the chance of hitting a home run.

The copyedits of the Sand Creek manuscript

The day before Pailin’s birthday (July 5), we hosted our second annual July 4th party. I began my edit of the first Sand Creek copyedit on the evening of her birthday and delivered it on deadline (August 5). This wasn’t easy for I was blindsided by an editor who was clueless (and I’m being very kind here). Without communication or warning, I received all the pieces of the entire copyedited manuscript in one delivery—and faced the massive task of fixing what was initially correct in my draft but was now was a massive collection of errors. Trust me when I say that this copyeditor pushed me to the boiling point. I actually called University of Oklahoma Press managing editor Steven Baker and screamed at him: “Does she know anything about the Cheyenne Indians or the 1860s Cheyenne wars?” “No,” he replied, “but she’s a good copyeditor.”

I insisted upon a second copyedit and got it. By this time I had no trust in what might happen, and my seven-day weeks have been long with no end in sight. But this is little more than a two-headed dragon, for sometime—hopefully no later than now late-October—I will complete my work on the second copyedit. At that time my future will be before me.

I can’t begin to tell you how important the copyedits of my books are.

I do a lot of research, and luckily have a wealth to explore from my family (trash to others but luckily given to me; much of which I never knew existed). I created this art from a totally degraded b&w negative that could never be restored or printed that dated to 1972, and better I used it as the feature art for a blog that dealt with me being trapped in the bathroom on 18jun2013.  I played it for laughs, and if you choose to look at it (A gunslinger in a bathroom), I hope that you chuckle. For the record, I don’t think much of writers who view their writing as God’s gift to the world. This said, methinks I should use this art whenever I again talk about them. (art © Louis Kraft 2013)

Believe it or not, I know writers that are clueless to what a copyedit is, or worse writers who aren’t open to constructive criticism to improve their work—if we can call their writing work—for the simple reason that they claim that they are brilliant. For the record I have never completed reading a book by a self-proclaimed “brilliant” writer, and all of their tomes that I unfortunately bought (or they gave me) have either been trashed or donated to the Vietnam Vets. All of them.

Back to the copyedit; my editor did improve my manuscript when she stuck to copywriting and stopped spouting nonsense and crap about people, culture, and facts that she knew nothing about and located haphazardly on the internet. This is exactly what copyediting is supposed to be—improving the delivered manuscript’s word usage and paragraph structure. While fine tuning my wording, she questioned events and facts (which is good), presented ideas, and so on. … Some I accepted, some I rejected; but I always shared my reasons for what I did. Always. This is what a copyedit is all about—fixing, improving, polishing. There is one goal for the copyeditor and the writer, and that is to make the final book as good as possible. … As far as I’m concerned, every writer who disses this has his or her thumb stuffed where the sun doesn’t shine.

The blurb for the dust jacket

Let’s be clear here: the dust jacket blurb, and it doesn’t matter if it is on the back of the DJ or on the inside flaps—it is a selling tool. … A major selling tool, and a good one can sell additional books while a not-so-good one will not help sales (and may perhaps hurt them).

LK is easy going. I am also intense with a take no prisoners attitude. I’m sorry for this, but it’s just me. I have a vision for everything that I write, and I want to see it through to print. This said, I love my editors and my art directors, but will always challenge them whenever I think it necessary. The photo for this image was taken at Tujunga House on 30may2013. (image © Louis Kraft 2013)

This moves us into the land that I have invaded time and again as I insist in taking a major role in the entire production process of my books (and articles). Editors and art directors do not like this, for, I believe, that their view is that the writer’s work is complete when the final edit is accepted—meaning that the writer fades into the background. Not so with this writer. Good or bad, the book or article is my vision and I want t do everything possible to insure that my vision will see print.

In August I received the draft of the blurb for the dust jacket flaps. It was a good draft with only 10-plus words that were vague or I objected to as they were off target or erroneous. I completed my edits before my August deadline, and am happy with the prose. The final draft is on target and it hits home for the entire book. Luckily I have a get out of jail ticket, for all of the writing and copyedits. Done deal, and the dust jacket blurb will grab potential readers as much as the great dust jacket cover will.

I really want to share what I consider the final dust jacket blurb, but it must be a surprise come March 2020. Regardless of what you think about what is on the dust jacket flaps, I do believe that it will generate book sales to anyone who reads it. Yes, it is that good.

The maps

The three maps are complete, and again Bill Nelson created them from my drafts. Magnificent work by him, and I’m thrilled. Two are similar in design to the maps in Ned Wynkoop and the Lonely Road from Sand Creek. The third map was a major challenge for me and for Bill. It is complete, it will be two facing pages in the printed book, and it will be an eye-opener.

My bro Glen Williams (left) and his brother Joe Franklin Williams during a September 1976 road trip in his 1974 Pontiac TRANS AM (400 cu inch V-8). A cool photo taken during one of their trips, and as Glen told me, on “dirt and gravel backroads of the Arizona desert making frequent trips … in Apache territory [while] search[ing] old towns, railroad track beds, Apache sites and generally spent our week exploring Indian land and points of interest.” I wish I could have joined them, and more, had known Joe (who was 16 months older than Glen). (photo © Glen Williams 1976)

My great bro, Glen Williams, you are going to like this third map—it’s for you.

Sorry folks, but no mas here (meaning in English, nothing more is going to be said about this map on this blog). I do love being a tease. Buy the book and see the map, for it will not appear in my blogs.

The designed Sand Creek book proof and the index

The designed Sand Creek book is in my near future. I had thought that I would see it in mid-September. That has turned out to be wishful thinking, to my disappointment.

The first draft will include where I have indicated that the photos, art, woodcuts, and maps will be placed in the printed book. I will, if lucky, now see this draft sometime in late October, but I’m getting antsy on this. Originally I thought that I would see it before now—this isn’t on me, as I’m making my deadlines to get Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway published in spring 2020. This reason is not for these blogs, although there may be a small LK headline in the future that I don’t want to happen. The page numbers for the book will be in place and firm. This means two things. I will review the text, but with all edits not increasing or decreasing line flow of the draft. At the same time I will begin to create the index (something that I have done for all of my nonfiction books). I currently have a 26-page mockup index that is ready and waiting for me to complete. If, and as with previous books, I will then see one final proof, wherein I can still make small corrections before the book goes to publication.

The LK 2020 Sand Creek future … 

There are three things in LK’s Sand Creek future: talks, articles, and a major delivery to the Louis Kraft Collection in Santa Fe.

Five speaking pitches are underway

I am only going to pitch five talks for 2020. All will require my usual salary and all expenses (except for LA—it won’t have expenses, as I live seven miles from the location). All are major destinations, and I am taking my time to make certain that the proposals are specific to each venue and are clear why a talk is important. I am only considering speaking about two subjects next year:

  • The attack on the Sand Creek village on November 29, 1864
  • The life and times of Cheyenne chief Black Kettle

Photo of LK (left) accepting the 2012 Western Heritage Award in Oklahoma City in 2012. I’m good at talking engagements. I’m also good when accepting awards, which are much more impromptu. This mounted cowboy bronze (you can  barely see him in the lower left of the photo) weighs about 18 pounds (and I kissed him during the talk, which garnered me a nice laugh).

How I’ll handle both talks (Sand Creek and Black Kettle) have been in place for a long-long time. Both will be unique, and I hope to develop them into long features for magazines (minimum of 3600 words). These article pitches are not yet in development.

One of the talk proposals was a verbal pitch to Kevin Mohr, chief of interpretation & operations at the Washita Battlefield NHS (see Gordon Yellowman below), and two written proposals have been delivered (the other two written proposals will soon be sent).


Believe it or not, this September 2013 Gatewood/Geronimo talk in Tucson was the last that I ever gave. Good times for LK, but times long gone—times I hope to bring back to life. Time will tell.

Those of you who follow these blogs know that I stopped giving talks in 2013. This was because of two reasons. I needed to complete the research and writing of my Sand Creek manuscript, but also, and just as important, I had stopped writing for software companies in April 2012. … But there’s more here, and I should say something about this. In 2012, I earned a lot of money. This meant that I could talk anywhere I wanted that year and the next. Some of these talks pulled in my requested salary and all expenses, but others did not and cost me a lot to appear. This was fine, as I felt that the venues and my subjects were important and I wanted to do them. So much so, that I did them while knowing that they would impact my bank account. This was how I felt then, and this is how I still feel today. All those talks in 2012 and 2013 are good memories for me (and will forever be so). Life goes on, but today is not yesterday. The past is the past, and it will never be the future.


This Sun Microsystems badge was the only software badge that I ever ever scanned. My relationship with them ended in January 2009 when the company spiraled toward end of life.

I can’t understate the impact this has had on my life. No matter how good, or how bad, or how much I totally enjoyed the thrill-ride to deliver accurate prose on deadline for companies on the cutting edge, there was a bottom line. They allowed me to travel for research and deliver talks to my heart’s desire. I can’t begin to tell you what a loss this was, and how it has affected my entire writing life.

It’s September 2019, and I know where I would like to speak in 2020. Oh heck, silence isn’t golden here. My cities of choice are Los Angeles, Denver, Albuquerque, Oklahoma City, and Cheyenne. Cheyenne? Cheyenne? Where the hell’s Cheyenne? For those of you who don’t know, Cheyenne (Oklahoma)—or more precisely the Washita Battlefield NHS—has been a destination of mine for a long-long time.

Jerry Russell relaxing on the private land that would eventually become the Washita Battlefield NHS (Cheyenne, Okla.). (photo © Louis Kraft 1987)

The first visit was in I believe 1987 when Jerry Russell’s Order of the Indian Wars ended their yearly meeting by visiting the Washita battle site that was then on private property. At that time I was tracking George Armstrong Custer in the north for articles. I called Jerry and asked if I and my family could join him for the trek to the Washita and then attend the banquet. We had a good relationship, and he said, “yes.”

My daughter and I flew to Oklahoma City before the 1991 Western Writers of America convention and drove to Cheyenne to get the lay of the land. The Washita battle site was still on private land, but I wanted to get a feel for it, and approached it from various angles. Binoculars gave me detail, but I didn’t know what I was looking at. I saw the hills, the valley, bits and pieces of the river, but none of it was usable. As we began to return to OKC a rainstorm pounded the earth. It was so bad that the windshield wipers were useless and there was zero visibility—a long 30 minutes waiting on the side of the road wondering if we’d be rear-ended by a driver pressing onward when he/she should have waited while Mother Nature thrashed the land. … I had previously been there in 1970 when I was a member of VISTA (Volunteers in Service to America). I lived in a converted garage owned by a single mother who had a teenaged daughter on the east side of the city. I was assigned to work with African Americans (they weren’t called this then), and two VISTA recruits also lived in the garage with me (one white and one black; we had had four female coworkers, one of whom was black, but they they lived elsewhere). I quickly learned that Blacks had no love for cowboys. I wore cowboy boots, but luckily brought a pair of black laced shoes; my supervisor—Cheetah Gates, who had a large Afro—told me that if I wanted to live I had better ditch the boots. I did. More importantly, I became one with the Black community. I walked the streets day and night; safely. I hung out in bars, restaurants and front porches, spoke with everyone, and bonded with the people I worked for, as well as some American Indians. Good memories here—memories that would influence my future, although at this time I was clueless of what my life would become.

After the WWA convention my daughter and I drove to Kansas to see Medicine Lodge Creek, and most importantly the Fort Larned NHS. This trip was one of the keys to my entire writing future, although again I didn’t realize it.

This photo of George Elmore (left) and Leo Oliva dates to 28apr2012. I was again speaking about Wynkoop at Fort Larned, and on this day we had walked outside the perimeter of the fort to the building that Agent Wynkoop rented from the post trader for his Cheyenne and Arapaho agency. George was one of the key players in recreating the building on its exact location. Leo has also been key to restoring and retaining Kansas history, and this includes the Pawnee Fork Tsistsistas-Dog Man-Lakota village that Maj. Gen. Hancock destroyed in April 1867. Both have been major players in my writing life. (photo © Louis Kraft 2012)

We met then ranger—now chief ranger—George Elmore. It was the beginning of a friendship that is ongoing to this day. He gave us a complete tour of the fort, which I photographed and was key for The Final Showdown (Walker and Company, 1992). He asked if we could stay at his home and revisit on the following day. We couldn’t, as we had a flight to catch in OKC.

The last pitches are slowly moving forward. They will be long, detailed, and specific to the venues. If I land one, great; three, much better; all five, and I’ll be in talk heaven (at the moment I’m considering adding sixth pitch, as I know that one no longer has funding). I’m treating them with the same seriousness as I present my book proposals. Although two had been discussed on the phone multiple times (and one has been followed up with a full-blown written pitch), they aren’t a slam-dunk (a basketball term) for the people who opened the door to me must make a decision (see below).

True West and LK’s magazine writing future

My relationship with True West magazine ended when my article, “The Good Ol’ Boys,” was published in June 1990 (see the below caption for details). Before the article was published the then owner/publisher killed it until one of the featured people in it was purged from my story. I considered the owner’s decision heinous and never wrote for True West again. Yeah, I’m clear on who I will write for, and they are my decisions. I pitch them, they contract my stories/books, but the bottom line is that they work for me. This has been in place for a long time and has caused a lot of anger directed at me by them.

Early on then True West editor John Joerschke and I became friends. I pitched him on this article about people who presented history to the public in different ways, and he bought it. It dealt with four people: Gary Helms and his re-enactor cavalry regiment; Jerry Russell, who created the Order of the Indian Wars (and it is as we still know it today); Jim Court, former superintendent of the then Custer Battlefield National Monument; and Mike Koury, who is one of the best speakers I’ve ever listened to and current head of the Order of the Indian Wars. Yes, back in the day, this magazine was little more than newsprint and the pages bled. I had many pictures in this article to illustrate the stories, but just prior to publication, and, repeating myself, the then owner of the magazine—who, for some reason didn’t like Mike killed the section on him. The article was printed two issues after Mike had been purged from the story. This didn’t sit well with me, and again repeating myself, I never again wrote for the magazine again until Meghan Saar approached me in 2011 (see below). For the record LK knows how to ride a horse, and has for decades. (photo of Jerry Russell on the first page of the article & LK on horseback © Louis Kraft 1987 & 1989)

Hey, I write for me. My subjects are mine, and when I buy into them they are a marriage until death due us part. The books have beginning and ending lives, but articles and talks (whenever I am lucky to land them) can continue until I’m 130 (this is a joke, and yet it isn’t, for I’m doing everything possible to make this happen—the key is my brain, and it functions with my Corvette pedal to the floor every day). Don’t believe me? I have tinnitus, which is nasty. Since July 5, 2019, when I began the Sand Creek copyedit, and until September 22, my brain has been so-keyed into what I’m doing, the twenty-second of this month was the 17th day wherein my tinnitus was gone—totally gone. You don’t know what this feels like until you experience it. … The clear sound you hear, and that is without a buzz. Let me tell you that It’s heaven. How? Why? For me, total focus!

But, but, when Ned Wynkoop and the Lonely Road from Sand Creek (OU Press, 2011) was published the then True West managing editor Meghan Saar pitched me on doing a one-page article that would be printed along with a a surprise for me (good stuff by her). She came through big time, even though we never hit it off. She’s gone, for whatever reason, but I am forever grateful to her for reaching out to me.

LK art of Wynkoop that has been published in numerous books and magazines over the years. (art © Louis Kraft 2007)

The best part of the two 2011 True West pages was historian R. Eli Paul’s paragraph review of the Wynkoop book: “Louis Kraft’s special skill as a biographer is taking a figure from Western history—one whom the general public should know but does not—and telling the story of a meaningful, significant life. He did this expertly with Lt. Charles Gatewood of the Apache wars and now has repeated the feat with frontiersman Edward Wynkoop. In an American history that trumpets great ‘last stands,’ Wynkoop spoke out against the mistreatment of the Plains Indians and made his own stand of conscience, one to be studied, remembered and admired.”

Hey folks, no Wynkoop book; no Sand Creek book. The connection is huge,
and inter-linking connections have been key to my entire writing life.

True West editor Stuart Rosebrook and I connected in May via emails and a good phone conversation, and the focus was LK writing for True West. My daughter and I traveled to Tucson, Arizona, in June for much-needed R&R for both of us, a chance to just be us and hang out, and for LK to do some work. We succeeded on all fronts, but the key to this trip to Tucson was Stuart. We didn’t attend the Western Writers of America convention in Tucson, but Stuart did. On one of the evenings we got together in the convention hotel’s bar. I was prepared for pitching a series of articles on “The Key Players of the Sand Creek Saga.” Some of them definitely interested Stuart.

That was then; this is now (24sept2019)
Stuart and I spoke about my Sand Creek article proposal for True West’s 2020 schedule that he has been preparing, and about our working relationship moving forward. Let me say this: LK is one happy cowboy as he dances around Tujunga House.

(LK art of Black Kettle © 2015)

Starting with what we had shared in May, June, and then my official August 29 proposal for a series of articles, we discussed the direction of the magazine next year and how I might fit into it on an ongoing basis. Hey friends, this is good stuff for me. Let’s put this another way—I’m looking forward to partnering with Stuart and True West in 2020 and beyond. The offer is there, and it is something that I want to happen.

I know some of the details, and certainly about the various pieces that I’ll be writing in the future. Some will be based upon my proposal, and some will not (they’ll be from my book-writing past). We discussed True West becoming a home, a base, with an ongoing relationship with me as a correspondent, contributor, and editor. This is a win-win for me and hopefully for Stuart and True West. I know some of the early details of what we’ll be doing, but now is not the time to share them. One thing is certain, Cheyenne chief Black Kettle will be my first feature for True West.

Gordon Yellowman

Gordon and I have known each other since 1999, and we respect each other.

Photo of Gordon Yellowman (left) and Harvey Pratt. Both are Southern Cheyenne chiefs, and I took this photo of them on the Washita Battlefield NHS overlook on 11nov2011, after Harvey spoke about Cheyenne warriors in the past and during modern USA wars, and Gordon blessed the Washita village site. … You know my relation with Gordon, but I also have one with Harvey, due to his great friendship with historian Dee Cordry. There was, and is, key documentation that I had but in the 20th century Oklahoma blocked it from researchers. Harvey had this documentation and kindly allowed Dee and myself to use it. Harvey’s action is one of the kindest that I’ve experienced during my entire time as a writer. (photo © Louis Kraft 2011)

As said above, Gordon’s “Sand Creek” painting is key to Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway, and to repeat myself, I’m thrilled. This has opened the door to hopefully a friendship, and perhaps the possibility of us talking together and doing signings. He originally pitched me on joint signings; I countered him on doing joint signings and talks. He agreed, and we’re doing what we can to make this happen.

Major update!

Kevin Mohr, chief of interpretation and operations at the Washita Battlefield NHS, called me on 19sept19 regarding an oral pitch I had presented to him a while back. Yes!!!! He wants Gordon and I to talk at the Washita in November 2020. Their bookstore will handle ordering the books (which I love, as I don’t have to do anything to get them to Cheyenne) and they already have prints of Gordon’s magnificent art of the Sand Creek village. … Ladies and gents, next year I will re-emerge from my forced retirement from giving talks. And honestly, I love doing talks more than acting on the stage, as I know what I’m going to talk about (and only attempt to memorize quotes), and it is a one-shot occurrence wherein my focus cannot waver. For me, talks are a big part of my life, and returning to doing them is long overdue.

Better, I am absolutely thrilled that this event will happen with Gordon and myself.

Gordon Yellowman and LK (right) after the completion of the Washita Battlefield NHS symposium on 7dec2011. (photo courtesy of the Washita Battlefield NHS)

I can’t say enough about Kevin’s efforts to help me obtain permission to use two details from artist Steven Lang’s magnificent mural of the attack on Black Kettle’s village on 27nov1868 that is displayed at the battlefield; a tragic day, for on it the chief and his wife (Medicine Woman Later) died (my opinion is a little stronger than “died”). The two details will add great value to the Sand Creek book, and I will forever be grateful to Kevin for his efforts to make this happen, as well as bringing Gordon and myself to the Washita next year.

Oh, I’ll be talking about Black Kettle in November 2020.

LK’s book-writing future is out there

I have certainly discussed my writing future on these blogs and elsewhere on the internet. It is my proposed future. … But as the legendary New York Yankees catcher Yogi Berra once said, “It ain’t over till it’s over.” This is a paraphrase of his great quote, but in regards to LK’s writing future, it is right on the money: “It ain’t over till it’s over.”

This LK portrait was taken in August 2018 when OU Press Marketing requested photos for the dust jacket and publicity. Pailin shot them on the 4th, and they were exteriors on the Tujunga House back porch with a hat as well as interiors in front of a bookcase without a hat. She captured a lot of a great shots, but this was not one of the closeups that I delivered to OU Press (perhaps as it was my favorite and I wanted to use it elsewhere). I have since sent it to them, but without a response. (photo © Pailin Subanna-Kraft 2018)

This means one thing: what I said in the recent past, what I say here, and what I say in the future may change for one simple reason—Kraft is fickle as he travels that road where the research and words lead him. My future is before me, and I’m going to walk into it with open eyes.

At the moment, and this has been since beginning the Sand Creek copyedit on the evening of July 5, I have been working seven days per week every week. This has caused health problems, and I’m worn out, but these days are not about to end in the near future. I have a lot that I must complete for Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway to see publication. Trust me, for this is number one in everything that I do at this time. Number two is setting up articles and talks, for this is major for my 2020 life. Finally I intend to put my future book writing in place, and it will not supplant my Sand Creek talks and articles in 2020. At the same time it will dominate my book writing future.

Finally, and for those of you who don’t know who I am or what I do

I am simply a person who has followed my winding trail to today. I have always had focus, but when I have been faced with a projected goal that is beyond my grasp, I have never—never—continued on a path that has no chance of success. Again, never!

My entire life has been interconnected since I was a boy. Everything was in place by the time I graduated from the sixth grade, although I didn’t know it until perhaps two decades later. Everything. The key was my parents, both of whom were open to all people regardless of race, color, or religion.

Doris & Louis Kraft in their Reseda, Calif., home in 1972 (photo © Louis Kraft 1972)

The house I grew up in was an open door to everyone. I never realized this until many years later.* My mother and father also supported every choice I made during my growing years. It didn’t matter if they agreed with what I wanted to do or not, for they backed me 100 percent. But not with money, for here I was on my own. I learned the importance of greenbacks early on. My first paying job was delivering newspapers (the Los Angeles Daily News; think it had another name back then; the Green Sheet????) while in elementary school. I would eventually be laid off when the paper decided to transition from bicycle delivery to automobile delivery, but then worked throughout high school and collage as I wanted a university education. Early on, my father had told me that he couldn’t and wouldn’t pay for my education. Back in the dark ages obtaining a good education was doable (we all know how times have changed and the cost of education is now obscene). I wanted it, and although working, I graduated in four years, and without checking completed between 16 and 18 extra credits. In my final semester there was an upper division anthropology class on American Indians. I had not had any anthropology classes, and this bothered the professor. I told her that I didn’t need it for graduation, and that I wanted to learn about Indians. She allowed me to join the class. However, near the end of it she shook her head and smiled. “Anthropology is nonfiction, and your term paper is fiction.” “The class description and your handout on the term paper didn’t mention the word, ‘fiction’ or ‘nonfiction.'” She wanted to grind her teeth; she wanted to rip me to shreds. She didn’t. “I’ll accept your paper, but it will cost you a grade.” “Thank you.” I received a “B” for the paper and a “B” for the class. My paper was about an Apache teenager who was on a journey to become a man (based upon facts). In spring 1969 I was clueless of my future.

Shortly after my family migrated from New York to California, Doris Day had a song that my parents bought on 78rpm, “Que sera, sera, what will be will be.”* They played it all the time in our new home in sunny SoCal. They loved it, and so did I. This could be my theme song. I don’t have it. … Maybe I should get it so that I could listen to it again.

A hint of the future

Years back I had stopped listing future blogs, for the simple reason that some of them never happened. Today is special for I’m going say a little about the next blog.

I based this art of Olivia de Havilland and myself from photos taken at her Paris, France, home in 2009. When I posted it elsewhere on social media I was accused of creating it from scratch, and the reason was that I had not spent time with OdeH (the implication was clear—I did not know her and had never met her). For the record, I never say I do or did something if I didn’t do it. She is a wonderful person, and I’ve been lucky to be a part of a small portion of her life. (art © Louis Kraft 2013)

I know exactly what the next blog will discuss—my writing future. It is going in directions that have been in place for decades. This is no surprise for me, but it may be a major shock for some of you. As always I’ll mix and match subjects that are of importance to me. Pailin pitched me on a subject she wanted me to photograph and document. It was right up my alley, and I immediately agreed to her request, but health and deadlines prevented this from happening. My loss (and certainly Pailin’s, for I let her down). At the same time some of what is ongoing scares the hell out of me. This blog will go live at the end of December. Hopefully it grabs your interest.

Until then, vaya con dios, amigos y amigas.

Louis Kraft Sand Creek Massacre, Errol & Olivia, and Navajo Blood updates

Website & blogs © Louis Kraft 2013-2020

Contact Kraft at writerkraft@gmail.com or comment at the end of the blogs


LK is burned out, a skeleton that
functions on reflex. This came about from weeks,
months, and now pushing three years of working almost
seven days a week on the Sand Creek project. It
is now 11jun2019 and I have much that must
still happen for Sand Creek and the Tragic
End of a Lifeway to see the light of day
in 2020. Everything is business, but
key is that LK must provide
OU Press everything it
requires for the book
to be published.
Everything.

This is on me, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
But before I share my progress I want to give you a hint of what follows it.

I was going to use the above image without the words later in this blog but then changed my mind. It dates to 1982 after I returned to SoCal after playing Miles Hendon during a 1981-1982 135-performance tour in Northern California of The Prince and the Pauper (based upon Mark Twain’s novel and Errol Flynn’s 1937 film). I choreographed the duel in the play and had a living blast during the tour. This image was taken while I worked out with actors that knew how to handle the sword for five one-act plays that were grouped together. We performed them in late spring or early summer. I performed in three of them and wrote one. … A battle of the sexes wherein the hero—yours truly—was done in by a lady who knew how to handle a blade, but was no competition for hero Kraft, who toyed with her before disarming her and forcing her to the ground. She was on her back, unarmed, and at the hero’s mercy as the play ended. But all wasn’t as it seemed to be. While Kraft bowed and enjoyed the audience’s applause and cheering one well-placed punch turned victory into defeat—to the delight of everyone who saw The Fencing Lesson. Well-choreographed slashing blades enacted with sexual innuendo while lightly played for laughs was perhaps one of my better writing/acting efforts … until the lady regained her feet and proceeded to bash the hell out of me with relentless fists that ended the play with a standing ovation—for her. (photo © Louis Kraft 1982)

This blog is much more than a Sand Creek book update

Much-much more. … For it marks the beginning of my writing future. The time has arrived and some of it may shock you, but what follows—like my Indian wars books—has been in place for many years. By that I mean that the research has been ongoing for decades. Decades. This does not mean that I’m turning my back on the American Indian wars, for I’m not … I’m simply changing my focus while continuing to do what I’ve done for a very long time. It feels like it has been a lifetime coming but with Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway racing toward publication the time has arrived.

You know that I’m cryptic at times and certainly secretive. Alas, that still is in place. … This blog will deal with three books, and some important surprises.

There is no reason be silent in regards to the three books

  • Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway (but you knew it was on this list).
  • Errol & Olivia, which is a dual biography of Errol Flynn and Olivia de Havilland during the making of the eight films they did together.
    • Research continues on two additional nonfiction books on Flynn.

This change is not a move away from my Indian wars/race passion to the world of film (my other passion), but a continuation while I branch out into areas that have been on my plate for what feels like an eternity.

  • Navajo Blood, a novel that deals with dark-dark times in the Southwest during the years 1863 and 1864 and will have a mix of real Diné (as the Navajos call themselves) such as Chiefs Manuelito and Barboncito; as well as frontiersman turned soldier Kit Carson, among others; and fictional players, two of whom are key to the entire story.
    • This novel isn’t a one-and-done effort with Mr. Carson.

What follows is my future.

Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway status

Ohhh baby is time flying past at lightning speed.

My last manuscript status on these blogs was on the last day of December 2018. Time simply disappears when you’re having fun. I often feel as if I’m swimming off the SoCal coast in the Pacific Ocean, and this is good as I’ve been a fish ever since the first or second grade. But not really for although I’m making deliveries that are mandatory for the Sand Creek manuscript to see print I think that OU Press views my progress as I race toward the finish line closer to “a snail’s pace.”

We have Great White sharks off the coast of Los Angeles, and as temperatures warm more and more are seen. This year schools of four and five have been photographed cruising above the surface and just beyond the breakers from helicopters. One can only wonder how many of their brethren are forever searching for their next meal hidden from sight. I refuse to become shark bait screaming as I sink into the murky depths of the Pacific only to have chunks and pieces of a once-cocky writer who is no more float to the surface and gently flow to shore. … This image is an LK vision of Costa Rica’s west coast. It looks like a wonderful place to walk naked along the beach. Oops! Ignore that. … I wonder if Great Whites swim that far south. (art © Louis Kraft 2019)

I will deliver.

Manuscript delivery
I made the final manuscript delivery in mid-January. OU Press Editor-in-Chief Adam Kane and Production Manager Steven Baker (who I worked with on Ned Wynkoop and the Lonely Road from Sand Creek) have told me that the story flows, is readable, and will do well when published. Adam also told me that the book would sell even if there were no photos or art.

I took this image of Cheyenne Chiefs Lawrence Hart (standing center right) and Gordon Yellowman (praying at right) while they blessed the Cheyenne-Dog Man-Lakota village that Maj. Gen. Winfield Hancock destroyed, and in my opinion without cause, in April 1867. Just one of many heinous crimes performed by the U.S. government and their cronies during the entire 1860s when the United States swept westward with the lone goal of securing every acre of land that held value and to hell with any American Indian that dared to say, “Stop! This is my land.” I don’t know if you’ll ever read Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway. If you don’t read the book but see it somewhere look at the last paragraph as it shows you exactly why I signed on for this project without end. The lady with the blanket around her shoulders at center-left is Gordon’s wife Connie. I met her at this two-three day event and spent a lot of time with her. Good times for LK as I enjoyed her company while appreciating what she shared with me. The only other person in this image that I know is George Elmore (left in the sergeant’s uniform). We met in 1990 while I was researching The Final Showdown (1992) and he gave me and my daughter a private tour of the Fort Larned NHS, a lot of which made it into the novel. Both he and Gordon have influenced my life, not to mention having played key roles in the completion of Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway. (photo ©  Louis Kraft 1999)

To get to this point in time has never been a one-man show. There have been a lot of people who have unselfishly shared their knowledge, their time, and their patience with me. They have ranged from writer-historians to National Historic Site personnel to archivists to American Indians to friends whose interest is the same as mine to the staff at the University of Oklahoma Press, for without all of them there would be no book. I’m not listing them here but perhaps when I write the blog that announces the publication of the book I’ll focus on them (more below).

Images
The manuscript has 34 contracted images and all have been delivered to OU Press (the last two in late May). I’ve always known what I thought I wanted, but time and due to simply not finding specific photos or art more often than not made unexpected searches mandatory. As with my research on the manuscript many people and organizations played key roles in me actually completing this list. It goes without saying that at times this search was agonizing.

This is a colorization of a detail of a woodcut in the LK personal collection that I had used a grayscale of in Ned Wynkoop and the Lonely Road from Sand Creek. It is of Bull Bear (left) and Black Kettle on 28sept1864. I had considered using the entire woodcut in Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway but early on decided against this. (Detail colorization © Louis Kraft 2013)

As always for me it is the process, and in the case of photographs, art, and woodcuts it included hot trails that eventually turned ice cold. When this happened I was always disappointed, but that never lasted long. As I’ve always had backup selections identified, and if they weren’t in-house I began new searches.

Working on photos that needed restoration has been an ongoing task of major proportions. Ditto obtaining photos and art from archives as well as individuals. Regrettably some of the archives’ responses have been at a turtle’s pace. Some have come through and some fell by the wayside as I ran out of time and scrambled to obtain other images. Still many people and organizations stepped up to the plate (a baseball term) in my quest to locate, obtain, and when necessary purchase the images and, if required, the use fees. To each and every one of you thank you from the bottom of my heart.

As announced, and I think at the end of last year, I will not share any image that will appear in Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway until it is published. This is firm.

Maps
My cartographer needs to be mentioned; his name is Bill Nelson. I hired him to create two maps for Ned Wynkoop and the Lonely Road from Sand Creek (2011) from my rough drafts. If you’ve seen the book you know that his work sparkles. One of the Wynkoop maps is displayed below. I again hired Bill for this book, but this time I reworked the two Wynkoop maps to create drafts for him, and he has finished them and they will shine. I hope to deliver my draft of the third and final map to him later this week. Like my original drafts for Wynkoop this map will be rough. Although it now has a firm-no move deadline of August 5 that I think will be fine.

Ned Wynkoop and the Lonely Road from Sand Creek map © Louis Kraft 2010.

OU Press Managing Editor Steven Baker was, and still is, nervous over the last map ever seeing the light of day, much less making this final deadline. Based upon the ongoing problems I have encountered to create a rough draft of it I am hopeful that it will be of benefit to those who read Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway. Steven has every right to be a little on edge. I know the reasons, I know them intimately, but I have no intension of sharing them for it would unleash a tirade that none of us want. Now is the perfect time for me to keep my bleepin’ mouth shut. … I needed to calm Steven somewhat, and I had already presented the option of dropping the map from the book, which he shied away from without addressing. I didn’t question his silence. … Bill and I will make our deadline.

Is Kraft cocky? At this point in time, yes. I’ve been in this position so many times over the years (and I’m not talking about just the freelance world) that it’s just another day in the LK world of chaos. My knees aren’t shaking, I’m not walking around in a cold sweat, and I don’t stare with wide-open eyes at the ceiling when I should be sleeping. I have reached the point of deliver or shut up. I’ve been here many times and it is simply taking it one step at a time. I am confident while at the same time know that if I fail now and the book isn’t published that the sun will still rise tomorrow. This is my world, and I’m in my element.

Steven, trust me.

Copyedit
Kerin Tate is my copyeditor for the Sand Creek manuscript. Adam and Steven both highly recommended her. On May 30 she emailed me to inform me that she liked the manuscript, word usage, notes, and was making good progress with minimal changes. Since then we’ve had more contact and all is good. I’m thrilled to be working with her. We’ve agreed that she’d deliver her copyedit to me June 24. Previous to this, Steven had agreed to an extension of my review/edit of the copyedit to August 5, due to events, happenings, and Pailin’s and my now annual Fourth of July open house/party that includes her birthday. Kerin’s delivery is perfect for me and will become my total focus on July 6 (although I will begin working on it after she delivers it).

Years back when I asked a George Armstrong Custer historian (alas, long dancing with angels) if he could have improved his work he replied without batting an eye, “No. My work’s perfect.” Let’s just say no LK comment about his “perfect” work. … I believe that it was in spring 2013 when I spoke at an annual Order of the Indian Wars spring event in Centennial, a suburb (?) of Denver, Colorado. While in the lunch line with friend/historian/writer/radio show host/performer Deb Goodrich—yeah, this lady is multi-talented and I didn’t list all that she does—asked me what I thought about my work. “If I could work on my published writing again,” I said, “I could improve all of it.” This was how I felt then and what I believe today. … History and writing about it is an ongoing process that is in constant change and never ends.

LK w/Deb Goodrich during the evening party after the Order of the Indian Wars Annual Symposium in Centennial, Colo., ended on 20apr2013. I had given a talk about “Ned Wynkoop’s Last Stand” during the event. It is based upon a photo by Frank Bodden. (art © Louis Kraft 2019)

My goal—always—is to bring the leading players to life, make the events jump off the page, and have my readers curse me for they can’t put down the book and the hour is creeping up on midnight. My copyeditors for Lt. Charles Gatewood & His Apache Wars Memoir (2005) and the Wynkoop book played key roles in making this happen. My hope is that Kerin’s copyedit will improve the Sand Creek manuscript while not damaging facts or corrupting Cheyenne words that are correct.

The blog that announces the Sand Creek book publication will also … Gulp … “say it ain’t so,” LK

… but it is so as I hope to feature as many of you that have helped me as possible in that blog. And here, please don’t be like former editor-in-chief of OU Press Chuck Rankin, for if not for him there would be no Sand Creek manuscript or book. My friend prefers to move in the shadows. He couldn’t get away with that with me as I have too many images of him. At the moment many of you are under the radar, and that simply means I would like one or two or three images. Do you have photos of “you” that you could share? If yes, I want them. Here I’m talking about you, and many of you are new to the LK world. Honestly, I really want to publicize your efforts and kindness in the creation of the Sand Creek manuscript and book. As they say … “a photo is worth a thousand words,” so please be generous.

As Sand Creek charges into history LK’s writing future comes into focus

Over the years I have certainly publicized upcoming book projects, and I’m certain that for most of you this has been little more than a lot of hot air. From your point of view, maybe; from mine, reality. What follows is a list, and it is in my current working order. As always, research and more research is behind everything that I write.

Errol & Olivia
Although I didn’t know it Errol Flynn would influence my life more than any other historical person, and it began while I was in elementary school. Flynn introduced me to the American Indian wars, piracy, swords, acting, and most important an openness to people of all races. While still an actor I began to research his life in earnest, and in 1996 decided to write a book about him.

This photo of LK and Olivia was taken on 3jul2009 at her home in Paris. It was an absolutely wonderful day and evening. (photo © Louis Kraft 2009)

My contact with Ms. Olivia de Havilland led to my decision to make it a joint biography beginning with their arrival in Hollywood, being cast in Captain Blood (Warner Bros.-First National Pictures, 1935), their life and times during the eight films they made together between 1935 and 1941 (three of which were westerns). It will include an extended epilogue (similar to Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway). Easily 90 percent of the research is complete, but with this said the research is ongoing. As soon as I complete everything that is required of me during the production of the Sand Creek story this will become my number one project. … No more detours

  • Errol Flynn book number 2 (could be book 3)
    By the way, the second book on Flynn will be the best nonfiction book I write. Certainly this research is underway, but a lot more needs to be completed. This will begin in earnest as soon as the Sand Creek copyediting, my reviews of the designed  book pages, I’m good with the dust jacket design and copy, and I’ve created the index.
  • Errol Flynn book number 3 (could be book 2)
    That’s right, I have three books planned on Flynn and there’s still a chance that I could partner on this book (but in a completely different way); if true, Mr. Flynn will dominate a good portion of the rest of my nonfiction-writing life.

Navajo Blood
This novel deals with an old Diné warrior and his granddaughter during the 1863-1864 timeframe of the Kit Carson Navajo campaign. I have a polished draft, but recently decided that additional information needs to be added to the manuscript. The goal is to stay true to history while making the characters (real and fictional) come to life. My pitches will begin this year.

  • Untitled Kit Carson nonfiction book
    Primary source research is certainly underway for creating a book about Kit Carson; some of it is already in-house but I need more. If I’m able to locate what I need—and this is mandatory—I’m certain that I’ll be able to complete this manuscript without any of the problems I encountered while piecing all the parts of the Sand Creek story into a readable book. A focused continuation of the research will begin in fall 2020.
    * I haven’t begun to draft a proposal or verbally discuss it with editors yet but this will begin as soon as I have all the required research in-house, and I know exactly what I intend to use. … If I can’t find what I believe exists I will extend the scope of the story. For the record I have all the published books on Kit that are worth a damn and way-too-many that aren’t. … As soon as I’m satisfied with my primary source material I will draft an in-depth proposal. As with my previous nonfiction work this book will not be like any others in print.

LK Memoir
I’ve hinted at this for a long time, and both the research and the writing in various forms has been ongoing. Just look at the blogs for they represent some of my digging into the past, but, alas, I have shied away from the incidents/events that if published or made public at this time would cause me to ward off an invasion on Tujunga House by hooded assassins bent upon shutting my mouth for all time. It will be juicy, funny, fast-paced, and truthful (with documentation to back up what I state, something that you usually don’t see in memoirs).

The pirate Francis Drake … fiction and nonfiction
I have an incomplete fictional draft of Drake’s early piratical days that has a lot of promise.

As you can see, LK has been wielding a blade for sometime. (photo © Louis Kraft 1958)

I also have all primary and secondary sources on Drake published since the beginning of the 19th century (and much of the primary source material dates to the 16th century). Looking at the above writing projects this might sound like wishful thinking on my part. For the record Mr. Drake was light years ahead of his time, which was dominated by racial and religious prejudice and hatred. … What can I say other than I’m an optimist. For some of my views on El Draque, see The pirate Francis Drake and LK.

Various fiction projects
This ranges from Chinese fishermen in Monterey, California, during the 19th century … to modern-day Anasazi cannibalism in New Mexico … to bootlegging on the Navajo reservation … to a continuation of the two leading fictional characters introduced in The Final Showdown (1992) and their relationship with the Cheyenne Indians during the latter part of the 1860s.

Decades ago while doing research in the Monterey Peninsula, California, I discovered a photo shop/lab in Pacific Grove and spent the afternoon talking to the gentleman, who if my memory is good was a photographer/owner of it. He specialized in the Asian (mostly Chinese) presence on the California coast in the 19th and 20th centuries. Many of the photos he showed me that day I have since seen printed in books. Hopefully he is still with us, and if not hopefully his quest to preserve and share history from that time continues to live on. That day and afternoon has never left me and I have gathered as much reference material as possible (mostly academic) over the passing years knowing that some day I hope to write about the Chinese experience on the California coast. The California Historical Society call number for this public domain image is FN-22407.

All are outlined, in draft form, scripted, or partially written. I have played down fiction, but this doesn’t mean that it isn’t a medium that I would have any problem returning to full-time.

A slight change of subject, but it is related to LK writing fiction. And it is one that hovers in the shadows of my life on a daily basis. Mainly, will Pailin and I continue to be able to survive in Los Angeles? The cost of living is high, and I hate to say it but it increases almost monthly. California has become the land of the rich.

David Horsey is my favorite political cartoonist, and in this simple image he nailed the Pacific Coast (California, Oregon, and Washington) real estate market. … Simply put middle- and lower-class Angelenos are being taxed out of existence. We’re paying millions and billions for 1) Statewide gasoline taxes (by far the highest in the USA) to improve the roads (I invite you to LA to experience our roads, for it will make you feel as if your driving off-road in a third-world country). I don’t want to discuss this joke other than to say that in LA city hall is removing lanes from pot-holed (and in some cases repaved) streets with the magnificent logic that if they increase drive-time to work—let’s  say from 30 minutes to 45 or more minutes in bumper-to-bumper traffic to drive two or three miles to reach a freeway, which isn’t moving, they’ll force everyone to use public transportation. The farce doesn’t stop here for we are about two years away from being charged $4.00/day to drive into certain areas in Los Angeles County, including the Westside of Los Angeles (Westwood, Santa Monica, Venice, Brentwood, and West LA). Pailin drives there six times per week. Do you realize how many buses she would have to ride, how many subways (southeast to Hollywood and farther east to transfer to one going south to then connect with a westbound subway that will travel much farther west than from where she started her day, which won’t get her close to any of her destinations) twice daily (she has to return home)? Not to mention that she gets off at night. 2) For the homeless, which in LA increases by the year and on the week of June 3rd the LA Times announced that it is now just a few hundred short of 60,000 with somewhere around 20,000 housed. $1.2 B in the last three years. Where is all this money going? 3) Over the years the Los Angeles County School Board (the second largest in the country) has been dysfunctional, and the district is one of the worst in education achievement in the USA. Management at the top of the school board earn more than the governor of the Golden State, which I suppose gives you a good idea where some of this money ends up. There have been two tax increases in the last two or three years, but in 2019 greed took center stage yet again. On Tuesday, June 4, we voted down a new tax for the school board. This one would have levied a $0.16 tax on every square foot of building space in Los Angeles County. Yep, on every house, apartment building, condo, gas station, grocery story, movie theater, office building, factory, car dealership, hospital, ad nauseam. Put simply, that is an additional $160 tax dollars per 1,000 square feet of building space. I think it would be safe to say that the cost of everything in Los Angeles would go up. Horsey’s cartoon is right on target for a problem that is worse today than when he created it. A neighbor’s 800 square foot house sold for $650,000 earlier this year. About 20 people live in a 1200 square foot house including a converted one-car garage nearby (the adults all work and the young children all go to school except for one little girl). For the record the two bedrooms and living room have been divided into cubicles similar to what you would see in software office buildings. The Times article also pointed out that a lot of those living in their vehicles—that is homeless people—are working but can no longer afford housing. (art © Horsey and the Seattle Times 2018)

To repeat myself California has become the land of the rich, the poor, and the vanishing race once called the middle-class. Supposedly if California seceded from the United States it would become I believe the sixth largest economy in the world. This is not a joke and it is something we have to deal with every two or three years when rich clowns (read billionaires) spend a lot of money to make this reality. In two previous attempts to create the new country of California, it had been divided into three states and then six states.

I know the answer and without knowing it so do you (but you won’t admit it).

Due to the turmoil that seems to be a daily occurrence in the Golden State I have logged many hours trying to remain in the USA while also exploring becoming an expatriate.

In 2018 a person I considered a friend called me a renegade to our country, damning me as he didn’t agree with my views on our country’s current policies (which for the most part I avoid sharing, and wasn’t discussing when he slammed me).

For the record LK fits in wherever he goes. Here I’m dancing with Not (left, Pailin’s sister) and Pailin as we approach Wat Phra That Lampang Luang, a Temple in Lampang, Thailand. (photo by Daranee Kosin and © Daranee Kosin, Not Subanna, Pailin Subanna-Kraft, & Louis Kraft 2014)

Being short of cash didn’t count—just looking into living offshore turned me into a traitor or worse. Regardless of which is true, I guarantee that one thing won’t happen. I’ll never become a homeless person. I know a lot of them personally, and my heart sheds tears every time I talk with them as I can’t help their situation. See Horsey’s cartoon, above, for housing is one of the major culprits (along with LA Mayor Eric Garcetti, who talks a good story while sitting on his ass and dreaming of becoming president of the USA).

LK’s office in Uttaradit, Thailand. (photo © Louis Kraft 2014)

The point I’m trying to make is that if Pailin and I are forced to relocate to Thailand or New Mexico or Costa Rica or Arizona or Spain or elsewhere these and other story ideas will find a life of their own as my fingers dance over the keyboard and my fictional world explodes with life.

I know, the above is a shocking mouthful. … So is ‘Stayin’ Alive.’

High Noon (1952) Elmo Williams’ Oscar, UNM, Tomas Jaehn, and Errol & Olivia 

Let’s start with Tomas Jaehn, formerly of the Chávez History Library, Santa Fe, who in the early part of this century created the Louis Kraft Collection AC 402 & AC 010 for photographs.

LK with Tomas Jaehn after a talk on “Edward Wynkoop’s 1867 Fight to Prevent War” at the Chavez History Library, Santa Fe, N.Mex., on 15sept2004. (photo © Louis Kraft & Tomas Jaehn 2004)

The last two deliveries to the LK Collection have not been catalogued and the archive has not been updated. I’ve begun to prepare next delivery that will happen after Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway is published. It will consist of two books, including The Discovery (2016), magazine articles, and talks, along with personal correspondence and additional photos and art. Access to the archive is by appointment only. Contact Heather McClure at 505.476.5090, heather.mcclure@state.nm.us. This delivery will happen at an undetermined time when I travel to New Mexico. … And it will be huge, including a lot that I have not announced.

LK and Olivia de Havilland talking about her life, Mr. Flynn, and important subjects that both of us brought up at her home in Paris on 3jul2009. During both of my visits to France our conversations were lively and full of information that also included world events and USA politics. Without hearing her view of Mr. Trump I know exactly what it is. She is a lady, does not use foul words, so if she ever shares it with me it will be printable. (photo © Louis Kraft 2009)

For the record once Errol & Olivia is published the Kraft Collection will also contain research, drafts, correspondence, and other material related to the creation of the book including the Kraft-Olivia de Havilland correspondence over approximately twenty years. Some of OdeH’s letters were hand-written while others were typed, and I assume by her then secretary but signed by her (meaning that I perhaps have more of her autographs than everyone else put together if we don’t count sports stars). During my two visits to Olivia’s home in Paris, France, she had two different secretaries. Both were young American ladies. To learn a little more about Livvie, as Errol Flynn called her, see Olivia de Havilland, a world treasure.

In 2006 the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences (Beverly Hills, Calif.) announced that it would honor Olivia that June.

Some people I thought were friends came out of the woodwork and demanded that I obtain tickets to the event for them. I told them that I was not going to ask for tickets for myself and I wouldn’t for them. Whoa baby, did I ever unleash a swarm of hatred directed at me via phone and email. The words were scathing; actually they were much worse. I ignored them, but those relationships didn’t survive. … Oh, there was still some connection with a few of the people but it never revived the past. One Flynn expert, and we had shared a lot of information over the years, became the most venomous toward me when I refused to help him obtain a ticket.

For the record OdeH invited LK to attend her gala, and it was some event.

The Flynn expert succeeded in obtaining a ticket and also attended. Surprisingly we spent a good part of the evening together. We even sat together while Olivia was honored on stage by the late Robert Osborne (former host of Turner Classic Movies). We enjoyed each other’s company that night, but we never spoke again. He died a few years later and his incomplete manuscript was never published (and I have insider information on why; this is something that I’ll never share without permission). No comments here; none whatsoever. He is gone, and so is why he failed so see his Flynn manuscript(s) through to publication.

Back to Tomas Jaehn

Tomas is now Director, Special Collections/CSWR, University of New Mexico Libraries. We see each other whenever he is in LA or I’m in Santa Fe. Always good times. During his last visit to Tujunga House in summer 2018 we talked about a lot of subjects including an upcoming event at UNM.

Standing in front of a cutout of Gary Cooper as former marshal Will Kane in the classic 1952 film, High Noon, Tomas Jaehn holds Editor Elmo Williams’ Oscar for the film. With him is Topiz, a UNM student employee who Tomas “asked to watch the Oscar during the event.” (photo © Tomas Jahen 2018)

Tomas is good at having fun with words. When he sent me the above image he called it an attachment of an ‘Albuwood’ or ‘Hollyquerque’ ‘pic.'” Love it!

The second showing happened on 1nov18, and Tomas had this to say: “Second showing of the Oscar was a blast. Folks loved it and commented on ‘how heavy that thing is.’ (A phrase that I hear every time I watch the Oscar events).”

Tomas also mentioned that UNM has Michael Blake’s papers. Novelist/screenwriter Blake became a good long-distance friend of mine for many years. He won an Oscar for his script Dances with Wolves (1990). This film has been on my film list and it has been off. There is a chance that it might be on again (but at the moment is still off). I need to watch it a few more times, if for nothing else than to enjoy Wes Studi* and Graham Greene’s performances. If yes, I’ll talk about Michael. See the section “Michael Blake, a special person and writer” (the second section) in The Louis Kraft writing world differs from other writers’ worlds for some of my views of him and of our relationship. Damn do I miss him.

* Wes Studi news flash!

On June 4 the Los Angeles Times (Calendar section, pE3) announced that Wes Studi would be awarded a special Oscar for his contribution to film over his career. Wow! The Times mentioned Last of the Mohicans (1992), Geronimo: An American Legend (1993) (see 1st fifth of a Louis Kraft 50-film list), Hostiles (2017), and Dances with Wolves (1990), among some of his other films.

A scene during Hostiles wherein Jonathan Majors is a member of the military detail that is escorting Sioux war chief Wes Studi from the south to the north so that he can see his homeland one final time. For those of you who haven’t seen the film, like the LK/Goodman novel this film’s title is misleading in that you must see the story through to its conclusion to know what the story is really about. LK personal collection.

These awards used to be presented during the live telecast at the beginning of each year but no longer. To save myself time I’m quoting the article: “The Board of Governors of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences announced Monday that it will present its annual honorary Governors Awards to director David Lynch, actor Wes Studi and director Lina Wertmüller, while actress Geena Davis will receive the Jean Hersholt Humanitarian Award.” The Oscars will be presented at the Governors Awards ceremony on October 27, and although not mentioned I assume at the Academy of Motion Pictures and Sciences on Wilshire Boulevard in Beverly Hills, California.

Finally Mr. Flynn & Ms. de Havilland or more precisely …

I love the art for this magazine cover from January/February 1979 (unfortunately the journal no longer exists). I know who the staff artist is/was but have no contact information. This art would work nicely for the dust jacket of Errol & Olivia. … Research continues. If you know who or what institution/company owns the copyright of this art please contact me.

Errol & Olivia.

For all of you who have been patient, for all of you who have liked my talks and articles that dealt with them, your time of waiting is nearing an end. Although research on Errol & Olivia has been ongoing writing has been almost nonexistent the last half dozen years. I’m sorry but that is just a fact of life as I had to deal with completing Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway to my satisfaction. It will turn a portion of the current literature upside down. … You know what? So will Errol & Olivia. No joke.

You probably think that this is just another LK piece of prose to keep you hanging on. No. Trust me, and I would never say this unless I meant it.

This photo was taken on the same day as the image at the top of this blog. I don’t remember the actress’s name (and unfortunately I didn’t write it on the back of the 8x10s (someday I’ll pull my book of days from the 1982 taxes; I’m certain wrote about her there). We were beginning to rehearse the routines that would be in the swashbuckling one-acts. She was good with the blade and I liked working with her. Alas, she had a conflict with the evenings when we’d rehearse and perform and dropped out soon after this photo was taken (my loss). LK knows the sword, beginning while in junior high school when I studied with U.S. fencing Olympian and film dueling choreographer and stunt double legend Ralph Faulkner at his Hollywood Blvd. studio. I later was asked to join the CSUN fencing team during my first year at the university (I fought competition sabre), and later studied swashbuckling (stage combat), which is always done little protective gear (mainly knee and elbow pads). It is perfectly safe—yeah, right Kraft, as long as you don’t loose an eye. Trust me, it’s safe, for it is just like dance and every offensive movement with the blade has a unique number, while the duelist on defense has a corresponding number to parry (block) the attack. (photo © Louis Kraft 1982)

For those of you who don’t know, the American Classic Film: The Journal of America’s Film Heritage cover art is of EF and OdeH’s first film together, Captain Blood. It became a major hit and turned Flynn into a superstar over night (the term didn’t exist in 1935) and de Havilland into a star.

Captain Blood was the first of nine Flynn swashbucklers; four of which would become classic films and the best four examples of the swashbuckling film genre to this day.

To repeat what I said in the American Classic Screen cover image above:

“If you know who or what institution/company owns
the copyright of this art please contact me.”

If the owner/copyright holder allows me to use the EF & OdeH Captain Blood art by then journal staff artist John Tibbetts (1978), you will receive my eternal gratitude along with a first edition of Errol & Olivia when it is published.

If you supply me with the owner/copyright holder of Mr. Tibbetts’
art and I fail to obtain the required permission I need you
will still receive a first edition of Errol & Olivia.

(For the record I already own the cover art for the second Flynn book.)

The goal is to be back to writing Errol & Olivia full time sometime in early 2020. Heck, that’s just around the corner. As I have a little over 60,000 words and am shooting for 125,000 words, I’m roughly halfway to a first rough draft. I’m not joking about Errol & Olivia being different for it won’t be like any joint biography that you’ve ever read and you can take that to the bank. ‘Course if you bet on this and win a goldmine don’t forget that your ol’ pal Kraft, who gave you insider information, would appreciate some of your winnings.

Three LK “long walks” in 2013 and 2015

These three years represent a sad time for me as I walked away from
what has been a major part of my life for decades.

The end of a big part of my life that wasn’t a loss

LK answering questions after speaking about “Errol Flynn, George Armstrong Custer, and a Lady called Livvie,” before the Custer Battlefield Historical and Museum Association, in a Hardin, Montana, movie theater on 25jun2011. (photo © Louis Kraft 2011)

In 2012 I stopped writing for the software world. It was forced but I was good with what happened (other than the lying manner of the presentation). Don’t get me wrong for I have had a lot of great memories, and have certainly known a lot of wonderful people from all over the world, in a fast-paced industry that took no prisoners. Put simply, you delivered on deadline or you might walk the plank. Heck, that’s not completely true, for sometimes even if you did deliver you might still end up walking the plank.*

* Walking the plank is a piratical term. When a corsair captain and his crew decided to eliminate a member of their brethren or a prisoner, at times the unfortunate person was forced to walk on a plank that extended from the side of the ship until they stepped off it and dropped into the sea or ocean, only to sink into the depths until they met Davy Jones and his locker and became his slave throughout eternity.

This impacted my life in a major way, as I knew it would, for I had made the decision to not rejoin a world wherein I made six figures per year. … It wouldn’t take long before I felt the crunch on my wallet. Still, I refused to do an about-face and rejoin the self-imposed world of slave labor (again, Yahoo! and Oracle were not and never were a part of this equation when I wrote for them).

No longer a cold-hearted gun for hire, I was free. Free at last to spend all my time writing about what was important to me.

2013: Adios cowboy; no more talks
But things would happen. Suddenly, and without warning, I needed to pay half of an operation that I didn’t know about until after the fact. By this time I knew that there would be no more talks. Some talks paid a lot of money and all expenses (and I certainly enjoyed my connection with these organizations) while many groups that I wanted to speak for paid peanuts (meaning that when I spoke for them my loss could be $1,000; no big deal in the past). There were talks I wanted to deliver in 2013 and I gave them regardless of how much it cost. Good times, times that I dearly miss to this day.

2013: Adios cowboy; no more research at a great archive
This year also marked the end of my research at the USC Warner Bros. Archives in Los Angeles, California. By this time I was in a position wherein I didn’t need to return to the archives as I had enough primary source material to complete Errol & Olivia. Still, if you know me the research is always ongoing right up until publication (and usually lasts much longer as articles and talks follow). However, this ending was never permanent as I intend to do a lot more writing about Mr. Flynn. … More, I’m always big at going back and checking what I have for accuracy along with seeing if I might have missed anything.

2015: Adios cowboy; no more magazine articles
Another part of my life came to an end two years later. I never lost money here, and often I made additional fees based upon the photos/art/woodcuts I supplied and once in a while earned cash from my rough drafts of maps. This also included reselling photos, woodcuts, and my art to other publications. But the days of pushing these sales also came to a halt with me walking away from writing for magazines.

The reason was simple

Time. I needed time to complete two books.

Cover art and book design for The Discovery © Louis Kraft 2016.

A medical-legal thriller that I partnered with Bob Goodman, one of my physicians, who had a great premise that dipped into the depths of hell. I began the project as a consultant making good money, which quickly paid for the operation. I marked the hell out of his incomplete manuscript, provided edits and instructions on how to fix the text in detailed review copy, and in person during many meetings. My job completed I walked away from the intrusion and returned to the Sand Creek manuscript. My manuscript included finding primary source material while taking multiple types of people, their goals and biases, and merging a miasma of people and attitudes into a story that flowed easily between race and desire and selected actions by key players.

There was one problem, my Sand Creek manuscript suffered from the same malaise as the Goodman manuscript—it was all over the place with no focus, no sense of scope, and worse there was an endless listing of information that was useless in its current state. Honestly, both manuscripts were pieces of crap. … Then Bob Goodman presented a proposal to me that I was going to refuse—become his partner and write the book—until I realized that both manuscripts had the same defect that would destroy them. Simply put: If I could fix the thriller I would have a blueprint on how to fix the Sand Creek manuscript, which, unlike The Discovery that extended over two decades, was well over a century.

Talks, articles, & the USC Warner Bros. Archives are no longer on forced hiatus

Oh yeah, a time of joy is about to return to Tujunga House. I’ve begun to pitch two things that I love but had exiled to “Neverland” and will later this year or early next year I’ll return to a magnificent archive. It will take time to resurrect my past from its long slumber but the process has begun.

Potential Talks
Washita Battlefield NHS (Cheyenne, Oklahoma)
Beginning a little over a year ago I introduced myself to Kevin Mohr, chief of interpretation and operations at the Washita Battlefield NHS. It would be the first of many talks and emails as we discussed the Sand Creek manuscript and Custer’s attack on Black Kettle’s Cheyenne village on the Washita River on 27nov1868 and its impact on the Cheyenne and Arapaho lifeways. I can’t begin to tell you how open and friendly Kevin has been with his input to my needs (if you read the book you’ll know what I’m talking about), but again “mums” the word on what you will see on these blogs before the book is published. I love teasing—just ask Pailin—but I’m not playing Mr. Tease here.

Former Sand Creek Massacre NHS ranger Craig Moore leading a tour of the upper portion of the Washita Battlefield on 6dec2008. I joined it, and to his displeasure spoke up during the tour when he passed certain areas without discussing them. Of major importance was the mound that Lt. Col. George Armstrong Custer used as his observation post during the fight, which still partially exists. I refused to accept this silence, halted the moving program and informed everyone of Custer and his actions to protect non-combatants that he viewed as disobedience of his orders. This was not the beginning of a sparkling relationship, still years later Craig kindly attempted to help me locate information that had since been buried by Oklahoma law and blocked from viewing by historians. … This Washita Battlefield NHS extended symposium was a big event for me as I both played Wynkoop on stage and spoke about him during it. (photo by Leroy Livesay and given to Louis Kraft with full permission to use it)

Some of you know a little and some of you know a lot of about the lead-up to that tragic November 27 day, what happened, and the aftermath. Some of you don’t know anything about this time. Whichever camp you’re in I’ve decided that I now want you to read the book with no more giveaways by me. I want you to experience it for the first time and not mumble as you turn pages that Kraft already told me all this.

Without giving too much away this portion of the book is of major importance to the Cheyennes and the Arapahos.

LK and Cheyenne Chief Gordon Yellowman after a day of talks/presentations ended at the Washita Battlefield National Historic Site two-day symposium on 7dec2011. We met in 1999, and since have crossed paths numerous times, the last being this year. With the publication of Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway in 2020 we will be linked throughout time. I can’t begin to tell you how thrilled I am. (photo by Joel Shockley for the National Park Service).

A Ned Wynkoop one-man show has had two performances at the Washita and I’ve given two talks there. Obviously I want to return to this special land. In my opinion it, along with the Sand Creek Massacre NHS (Eads, Colorado) and the Cheyenne-Dog Man-Lakota village site (35 miles west of the Fort Larned NHS, Larned, Kansas), are three key sites in Cheyenne history. There are certainly many others including the Little Bighorn Battlefield National Monument in Montana; the Battle of Summit Springs (near present-day Sterling, Colorado) where Cheyenne Dog Man Chief Tall Bull died on 11july1869; and the Battle of Beecher Island where the great Cheyenne war leader Roman Nose died on 17sept1868 (the last two sites I’ve not seen). … In May of this year Kevin opened the door to me returning to the Washita to present a talk combined with a book signing. I’ve already mentioned two ideas to him, and for the record I won’t be talking about the battle. Hopefully we can make this happen in 2020.

Tomas Jaehn, University of New Mexico
Those of you who know about my writing/talking history may be familiar with Tomas.

From left: Pailin, LK, and Tomas Jaehn in the Tujunga House dining room on 2aug2018. Good-good times, and I wish that Tomas could have had a longer stay. Regardless of what happens with an LK talk at UNM one thing is certain, I’ll see Tomas and his family in 2020. (photo by Pailin and © Pailin Subanna-Kraft, Tomas Jaehn, & Louis Kraft 2018)

What follows is repetitious, and that’s okay for he’s become a great friend over the years, and one I always enjoy discussing any subject in our worlds. He is responsible for creating the Louis Kraft Collection in 2002. I’ve spoken there twice. Believe it or not we both put a lot of effort into an attempt to bring the Ned Wynkoop one-man play to Santa Fe. I should talk about this sometime, but not here. … Tomas has since moved on to a cool position at the University of New Mexico in Albuquerque (see above). Well, I guess you know where this is going. We have been tentatively going back and forth about an LK talk at UNM. Although below it may appear that I’m being too picky on where I want to place a Sand Creek Massacre article, this isn’t the case. The reason is simple: For me to show what happened on those two tragic days I need more words than most publications will allow and I don’t what to shortchange this important subject. … If Tomas and I can agree on what I intend to say (and it will be explicit) along with a date that is good for both of us after the book is published this is a talk that I want to give in Albuquerque.

Articles
Stuart Rosebrook, True West Magazine editor
Stuart and I connected on LinkedIn in 2018 but I don’t know if we’ve ever met. In May we shared a number of emails, which alerted him to the upcoming Sand Creek book publication and of my desire to again write for magazines, which caught his interest. Since then we’ve had a long talk on the phone to discuss this, writing for True West, and we weren’t talking about a one-time article but continuing into the future. Stuart was immediately interested in an article on the Sand Creek Massacre but I told him no, that I needed a lot more words than the 1500 maximum word count for the magazine.

In the coming days we’ll spend more time talking about LK story ideas that might be usable. Trust me, I have plenty of ideas bouncing around in my head. Most are related to the Sand Creek story, but there are others from the other side of my writing world that may grab his interest. Time will tell.


For the record I think that the best place for a Sand Creek Massacre feature might be in American History or MHQ (The Quarterly Journal of Military History). I’ve written for both and have had good experiences in the past. These pitches are in the works.

At right is the cover for the February 2008 issue of American History. The cover story was a comparison of Errol Flynn’s George Armstrong Custer in the Warner Bros. 1941 film, They Died with Their Boots On, and the real George Armstrong Custer. To date I consider it the best article that I’ve ever written. In 2008 it became the best-selling issue of the magazine (I don’t know if this is still true). For the record I campaigned to have Flynn also on the cover. This was one battle I lost, but ended up pleased with the art director’s choice. Here’s a few words to those of you interested in Mr. Flynn, Mr. Custer, or both of them, obtain the magazine (if possible) for the article may be of great interest to you.

Archives
Jonathon Auxier, USC Warner Bros. Archives
Beginning around 1995 the USC Warner Bros. Archives (Los Angeles, California) has been a mandatory destination of mine. I can’t write another word without saying the following: I have researched in a lot of first class archives over the years but none of them have come close to comparing to the USC Warner Bros. Archives. Over this time many have helped me at this magnificent archive, including Randi Hockett (director), Haden Guest (Curator), Noelle Carter (Director), Sandra Joy Lee (Director; I can’t remember her married name), and Jonathon Auxier (Curator). There were others but I can’t remember their names.

Jonathon was day in, day out light years above all of the archivists and directors at the USC Warner Bros. Archives. He always had a positive attitude, was extremely knowledgable and this is an understatement (in an archive that was so large that it had to be overwhelming to everyone that worked there, not to mention the by-appointment only researchers), and even better for I can’t tell you how many times he went the extra mile for me.

This is Jonathon Auxier near the end of our lunch at Le Pain Quotidien on Riverside Drive in Burbank, California, on 26apr2019. Good times as we talked about the past and our futures. A number of years back he left the archives for a terrific position at Warner Bros. (photo © Jonathon Auxier and Louis Kraft 2019)

One example will show just how knowledgeable Jonathon was and how willing he was to go that extra mile. There was a key event in the Errol Flynn-Olivia de Havilland relationship during their time with Warner Bros. I knew it happened but couldn’t find anything related to it at the archive. I explained exactly what I needed to Jonathon. He dug in and within days found the information I coveted. It became the spine for a talk I did about them perhaps 14 years ago or perhaps less as I’m not certain when Jonathan began working at the archives. No matter for the talk was a hit; so much so that I decided never to share this subject again. I immediately added the information to the Errol & Olivia manuscript. While polishing it I carelessly had a draft lying around when a Flynn friend who thought he knew a lot more than he actually did visited. He was a person who bought into whatever he read, proven or not (unless it was negative or debunked) and propagated clichés. While I was preparing dinner he saw it and began to thumb through the printed draft, but luckily asked what he was looking at. This brought me running to the rescue. I brushed it off as me playing with thoughts and words and nothing more. He bought what I said and the subject was closed. Over the years Jonathon has found other pieces of information that I needed but couldn’t find.

Back in those days it used to take me on average of between 20 and 25 research days to get through one box that dealt with a particular film. The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938) had two boxes and it felt like forever to get through both boxes.

Jonathon has became a friend, mostly long distance although not many miles separate us, and this year we have made an effort to bring our friendship into the here and now. Good for me, and hopefully for him.

I will continue to use other archives for Flynn/de Havilland and Carson/Indians,
but I see no need to share them at this time.

Just so you know I’m singing an Alan Jackson song as I dance into my future.
Or will it be John Lennon, or Michael Parks, or Patsy Cline, or Rhiannon
Giddens, or Waylon Jennings, or Tex Ritter, or Laura Brannigan,
or John Anderson, or Willie Nelson, or Rihanna, or Elvis
Presley, or Rita Coolidge, or Kris Kristofferson,
or Norah Jones, or Bob Dylan,
or Yoko Ono?

Sand Creek Massacre update, SoCal fires, P-64, & Christmas

Website & blogs © Louis Kraft 2013-2020

Contact Kraft at writerkraft@gmail.com or comment at the end of the blogs


The next blog is tentatively scheduled for late March, and will feature Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway and Errol & Olivia updates. My apologies for moving the LK top 60 film list from this blog but there is still too much study that must be completed before my opinion on these films can go live.

’Tis the time of peace on earth
and goodwill to all

Christmas, like Thanksgiving, are now quiet gatherings with my family. It is a day to count our blessings and cherish each other as we pray for peace on earth and equality for all on the day that represents the birth of Jesus. Pailin and I will welcome in the New Year at the Thai Temple in North Hollywood on the evening of the thirty-first.

Pailin created this Christmas image of us for social media. The photo is from 2016 and it was from the last Christmas party we have hosted. It was mostly in the backyard until everyone moved inside after nightfall. That day was nippy, as was this Christmas. Both wouldn’t have been so cold if the wind hadn’t increased as each hour passed. … Just for the record I’m freezing when temperatures drop into the low 60s (no comment is needed). The last thing that I want to do is live in a winter wonderland. (photo © Pailin Subanna-Kraft & Louis Kraft 2016)

I talk to the little boys and girls who live next door. A large hedge along my 80-foot driveway separates us but clipping and removing branches that die during heat spells creates openings wherein we can see each other (and this includes a little boy who lives two doors farther south). They are Latino, but unlike some of their parents they are bi-lingual and speak terrific English. But if not, we’d still be friends. … I walk a lot, often to various stores, and see them in their front yards and when they walk with their parents. I’m almost always around, I have a car they like a lot, they also like my shaggy hair (compliments of yours truly) as theirs is neatly clipped. It matters not if they only had a handful of English for we’d still be able to communicate.

We talk almost daily, and it is enjoyable for us, as we are curious about each other. They had their Christmas tree at least a week and a half before the twenty-fifth. They wanted to know if I had mine. “No.” “When are you going to get it?” “I’m not.” “Why?” “I don’t have any children like you.” “Doesn’t your girlfriend want a Christmas tree?” I chuckled. “She’s my wife, and she’s okay without one. Actually, I haven’t had a tree since my little girl grew up.” “Oh.” There was disappointment in his voice. His simple “Oh” touched me and my memories drifted back to Christmas days long gone but not forgotten.

This card is a major update to a Christmas card that I created in 1992. There were three printed words inside the card: “life … love … peace …” These words are still with me today. May they be with you today, tomorrow, and forever … LK. (image © Louis Kraft 1992, 2018)

I’ve missed giving talks …

Probably the major piece of my life that Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway forced me to walk away from years back were giving talks. They almost always got me on the road, and I love to travel. More important was/is the thrill of doing one-time presentations before audiences while not knowing what was going to come out of my mouth.

LK talking about “Cheyenne Indian Agent Edward Wynkoop’s 1867 Fight to Prevent War” at the Chávez History Library (Santa Fe, N. Mex.) on 15sept2004. BTW, this talk dealt with the destruction of the Southern Cheyenne-Dog Man-Sioux village on the Pawnee Fork in Kansas. It is a key piece in the Sand Creek manuscript Epilogue, which shows “the tragic end of a lifeway.” I shouldn’t say the following, but heck these blogs are for LK publicity (and hopefully offer a little entertainment). … The Chávez houses the Louis Kraft Collection of his work, photos, and correspondence (AC 402 and ACP 010 for the photo archive). Tomas Jaehn created it at the beginning of this century. He has moved on to become the Director,
Special Collections/CSWR University of New Mexico Libraries as well as becoming a great pal of LK. (photo © Louis Kraft 2004)

I’m prepared, always, but I refuse to read or use slides. I know what I’m going to talk about and I do work on it, but the only thing that I attempt to memorize are quotes.

Sometimes quotes walk out the door of my memory at the most inopportune moments. Paraphrasing usually saves the day, but not always. A number of years back I was talking about Errol Flynn’s performance as George Armstrong Custer in They Died with Their Boots On (Warner Bros., 1941) and comparing the fictional Custer with the real Custer. My favorite scene in the eight films that Flynn made with Olivia de Havilland was at the end of Boots. Olivia, as Elizabeth (Libbie) Custer, helps Flynn pack before he marches to his destiny at the Little Big Horn in Montana Territory on June 25, 1876. During the talk (in Hardin, Montana, in 2011) I used some of the dialogue between them in this scene and of course went blank when I got to my favorite line that Flynn’s Custer said to Olivia’s Libbie—”Walking through life with you, ma’am, has been a very graceful thing.” There’s one thing when you perform live, and that is you keep going. I did but in a different way, I asked the audience for the line and one of the fellows in the front row or near the front row knew it. Think it might have been Gary Leonard, an Indian wars historian from England, whom I met a year later when Custer and the Cheyenne won an award in Oklahoma City, and who has since become a good friend.

Back on focus

Due to the massive undertaking of the Sand Creek story (not to mention The Discovery, 2016, which I wrote to pay for an operation that I didn’t know about until after the fact—money I didn’t have), everything went on hold. As mentioned above, talks were no longer on my schedule. Ditto articles, plays, and believe it or not this year’s blogs (my last one was posted in May).

Talk about a disappearing act. …

LK and Pailin on the evening of 22nov2018 (Thanksgiving, my favorite holiday). We are in the dining room at Tujunga House but due to the glare of lights in widows and mirrors (yes, mirrors—that’s a mirror behind Pailin and not an entry to the dining room) what is behind us is not behind us. Make sense? No? I didn’t think so. … See, I’m not a total outcast; I have a social life with my small family. (photo © Louis Kraft & Pailin Subanna-Kraft 2018)

At times it is easy to create an outline or a proposal, but in the Sand Creek manuscript there was a massive problem and it wasn’t the research (but in my case the research doesn’t end until no more changes can be made, and this isn’t a joke). It was the massiveness of the players from all points of view. After mining the facts the question became how do I pull all their stories together seamlessly in a linear way and make it work with the larger picture of what was affecting their lives? This is a hell of a lot easier said than done, and certainly when the scope of the manuscript is huge. For those of you who don’t know I have done everything possible to be in the players point-of-view (POV, a film term) when dealing with them. The reason is simple, I want to show what they did and what they said for this will allow the reader to make their decisions about the Cheyennes and Arapahos, the whites who married into the tribes, their offspring, the whites who coveted Indian land, and those who spoke out against the massacre of people who thought that they were removed from the 1864 Cheyenne war in Colorado Territory.

I know, it’s a mouthful but an exploration that has become a big part of my life. Honestly, I’m one lucky cowboy to have it in my life.

Fire, fire, and more fire, … and which blog goes live

Fire has become the new normal in California and in other western states. Unfortunately it is not going away. The year 2017 was the worst fire year in California history, but 2018 surpassed it by late spring. By fall 2018 destroyed the 2017 figures.

This Los Angeles Times photo (12nov2018) isn’t as dramatic as the multitude of photos that pictured lines and lines of destroyed vehicles that did not escape from Paradise in the Camp fire, but it has massive importance. The San Fernando Valley (SFV) has a population of 1.75 million. If the Woolsey fire had continued east through Calabasas, Bell Canyon, and West Hills the number of destroyed vehicles would have been in the 10s of thousands. I know, this sounds like a ridiculous disaster movie plot, but someday it could become reality. This is the second year in a row when raging fires invaded the SFV. In 2017 fire struck the northeastern and eastern sides of the Valley (and both of those were within five miles of my house), and every effort was put in place to stop them.

Certainly the Woolsey fire in Los Angeles and Ventura Counties (November 2018) has affected me and many other people (and most of them much-much-much worse than me and for many of them their lives will never be as before). … So has my breathing clinic, my Sand Creek manuscript, and my film blog, which preempted this Sand Creek blog, only to get preempted in return (fair is fair). Even though the work on Sand Creek has been ongoing for what seems like a lifetime (read never-ending) things change. …

The Woolsey fire, its devastation, is an example of daily life in California.*

There is a mostly-unpublished fact that has recently come to light
(regarding Northern California). The Camp fire, which wiped
out the town of Paradise (November 2018) and quickly
became the worst and deadliest fire in the Golden
State’s history has a statistic that is frightening.
Between 2003 and 2018 this portion of
Northern California had permits to
build 24,000+ houses. During
this time fire has destroyed
20,000+ homes.

* See https://www.louiskraftwriter.com/2018/01/01/louis-kraft-socal-fires-earthquakes-sand-creek-massacre-an-errol-flynn-tidbit/ for details about the 2017 SoCal fires.

The nightmare is ongoing. A study just released pointed out that over 1.1 million buildings are at fire risk in California, according to the Los Angeles Times (“A million buildings facing fire risk stir cries for action,” 22dec2018; see the map at left and drag it onto your desktop to expand it), that is “roughly 1 in 10 buildings.” The largest number of these buildings are in Los Angeles County: 114,000, “including tens of thousands of Westside and San Fernando Valley houses in the Santa Monica, Santa Susana and San Gabriel mountains”. … The Times went on to state: “The findings follow a fire season of unprecedented destruction—more than 20,000 homes lost, more than 100 people killed—that showed what damage can be done if Californians fail to address a widespread risk.”

The real SoCal

California rainfall season is from October 1 until September 31. For the rainfall season ending on 31sept2018 for Los Angeles the rainfall was 4.74 inches.* … Regardless if SoCal has a lucky year of rainfall as we did between 1oct16 and 31sept17, which was about 18 inches (an anomaly), SoCal suffered through the worse year on record for fire destruction in California in 2017. …

* As of December 26 the rainfall for the season that began on October 1, 2018, is 4.26 inches (three months into the year and we have almost reached last season’s entire output). Fingers are crossed.

Even though the destruction during recent fire seasons has increased this century everyone thought that 2017 was an anomaly. It wasn’t. By late spring 2018 the fire season (which now almost feels like it is year round) surpassed 2017. That year two fires came within five miles of Tujunga House (one from the east and one from the north).* What do you take if you must run? Pailin and I know what documentation is mandatory, and we have more than most people for Pailin has gone through multiple processes to obtain permanent residency, obtain a Social Security number, driver’s license, and of major importance pass the required testing to obtain a certificate that she is one of the top massage therapists in California (it is illegal to work in the state if you don’t have this license and raids are ongoing).

* I would need a large U-haul to get my research to safety (not a comforting thought) or a year to digitize it (not going to happen), and this doesn’t include a lot of artifacts, posters, photos, and books).

As of 17nov2018 over 98,000 acres have burned in the Woolsey fire. … The Griffith Park fire started on the morning of 9nov2018 where Victory Boulevard crosses over the 134 freeway just east of I-5 at the southern entrance to the Los Angeles Zoo and the Autry Museum of the American West. The brush fire was totally extinguished by the next morning with only 30 burnt acres. Luckily there were no Santa Ana winds on the east side of the San Fernando Valley for the cities of Glendale (east and northern border) and Burbank (to the north and northeast) while the town of North Hollywood was northwest (about seven miles to Tujunga House), … all highly populated areas. (To view a larger rendition of the map drag it to your desktop and open it.)

On 7nov18 fires again struck SoCal with an intent to destroy and kill (a day after the Camp fire in Northern California destroyed most of the town of Paradise (population of approximately 26,000). …What has happened during the Camp fire in Butte County (where the town of Paradise once stood) has been an ongoing nightmare. As of 17nov2018 9,800 homes have been destroyed, the death count currently is 71 (this number is now over 100, but it includes some deaths in SoCal) with 1,001 people still missing (this figure has dropped, but they’ll never find all of the missing). I don’t know what you see outside of California but I see it all. The story of Sand Creek and the Cheyenne and Arapaho Indians is a tragedy; so is the story of the people who once lived in Paradise. Some died in their homes, others died in their cars as they attempted to flee, while even more died after deserting their cars in a last-gasp effort to survive.

This image of Llamas on a beach in Malibu, Calif., on 9nov18 (© Wally Skalij for the Los Angeles Times) is worth 10,000 words for it shows the horror that has become a yearly occurrence in California. The two llamas, Thunder and Luke (called alpacas in a later edition of the Times), and the horse, Gidget, are west of the Santa Monica Mountains and they are as far west as they can go for just beyond them is the Pacific Ocean. They symbolize not only the destruction of property but also the massive loss of animal life (wild and not). Luckily Thunder and Luke were evacuated to Ojai, a gorgeous valley/small city north of the city of Ventura (Ventura County), and Gidget to a stable in Glendale (a city in LA County; I-5 is its western border and the Ca. 134 freeway cuts through it as it begins to climb the mountain on its way to Pasadena).

My time is short, and the fires in California have again become the fires from hell. I don’t have time to keep writing about this ongoing disaster, so perhaps this social media post will give you some indication of the immensity of the threat: Woolsey fire as related to Los Angeles county on 12nov18. The fire that has ravaged Ventura and Los Angeles Counties was contained around November 19. Some 300,000 people were evacuated in California since these fires broke out in early November; 177,000 lived in Los Angeles County. It could have been worse—much worse—if the Woolsey fire had completed its invasion of the San Fernando Valley, it had the possibility of forcing an additional 1.75 million evacuations.* So what’s the big deal? This example should give you an idea. One of my physician’s office is on Ventura Blvd. in Encino. It is a 10 mile drive. To arrive at a nine o’clock appointment on time I need to be on the road by seven-twenty.

* If the SFV was a city it would be the fifth largest in the USA (only NYC, LA, Chicago, and Houston would be larger).

When the Santa Ana winds strike their speeds can quickly grow from 40 mph to 60 to 75 and more. The firefighters, some of whom at times worked 36 hours straight, had to deal with not only the power of the Santa Anas but also the sudden change of direction.

Many people lost everything but their lives. Everything. Already many know that they can’t rebuild for what they had originally paid for their homes is peanuts in today’s market and unfortunately many could not keep increasing their fire insurance.

My house before moving to Tujunga House was in Thousand Oaks. A very safe and gorgeous city in Ventura County (just north of LA County). It was on a hill, had a courtyard, swimming pool (swimming is my favorite individual exercise; I’ve been a fish since elementary school), and a half-block walk into the Santa Monica Mountains. The house survived as the fire was farther south.

An LK reality

Art of LK and his pistol-packing lady that I began several years after I began pitching the idea of bringing Johnny’s novel to the stage (see the paragraph to the left of this image). I’m a chameleon but this is an image that reappears in my life time and again. … Pailin? She is my lady for all time, and as such she is with me in all my incarcerations. She backs me at all times no matter deep I immerse myself in my projects, no matter how far I drop out of society. She is with me and I am with her. (art © Louis Kraft 2015-2018)

My life is what it is, and it has been this for way for a long time. My world is simple: Protecting three women, surviving, and living to see my Sand Creek manuscript published. This doesn’t sound like much but for me it’s a big deal.

The LK reality is the book projects and the people in my life. Relax for this blog will focus on Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway past, present, and future. Long time comin’. … But first I need to get a little personal with the recent past, present, and future. Not that long back I had pitched two friends on me writing a play based on East of the Border, a novel by Johnny D. Boggs, wherein James Butler (Wild Bill) Hickok tours the theatre circuit in the East with Buffalo Bill Cody and Texas Jack Omohundro. Wild Bill feels awkward treading the theatrical boards, is bored, hates what he is doing, and is often drunk. He discovers that when he fires his revolver too close to extras playing dead Indians that they leap to life when the blank firing burns them. He loves this. Type casting for LK? Probably. I’ve wanted to play Wild Bill since the first time I read Johnny’s novel.

LK, a former friend, and John Goodwin at a Galaxy Press event in Hollywood, Calif., in June 2010. I designed two of the hats (center and left), the buckskin coat, and moccasins years back.

This desire goes back years, and as I’ve said in previous blogs Lisa Smith, Johnny’s wife, said it would make a great play. Still Johnny had been silent (probably because he didn’t want me to adapt his book for the stage). The other key person in this triangle was Tom Eubanks. He had directed all of the Ned Wynkoop one-man shows in Kansas, California, Colorado, and Oklahoma. He, also, wasn’t interested. Eventually I gave up on what I thought would make a good play, and better a great character for LK to play. They probably thought I’d embarrass myself. … I never get embarrassed, and certainly not when I’m wearing a wide-brimmed hat, buckskins, moccasins, and packing an 1860 Colt. Are you kidding?

See https://www.louiskraftwriter.com/2016/09/17/the-tom-eubanks-louis-kraft-ned-wynkoop-errol-flynn-connection/ for images of the Wynkoop one-man shows and Cheyenne Blood, plus more on Tom Eubanks.

I believe in reaching for the stars, … and if I get lucky and my wish/prayers become reality to reach for another impossible dream—that is many more years with my ladies and perhaps yet another book, and another, and another, … and another. Yep! I’m a greedy ol’ dog.

Since the end of May it has been an ongoing string of Sand Creek edits, dealing with the peer reviews, adding new information, checking and double checking citations, searching for key information that I need in the manuscript, reaching out for help with other experts on my subject (which, believe it or not I’ve been living with since the 1980s). This is always a good time for it is totally creative. It’s also a scramble as the manuscript must now come together and flow smoothly between people and events as the story races toward conclusion.

My great friend George Carmichael took this image while we enjoyed the Pacific Ocean in northern San Diego County in March 2001. I met George at a fiction class at UCLA in 1990. We were both writing western novels: His was traditional, mine was modern day on the Navajo Reservation. We didn’t see eye-to-eye, but somehow became great friends until the end of his life on 2apr2014. He was an engineer turned published fictional short story writer while I focused on becoming a novelist. Although I have two published novels I’m proud of (The Final Showdown, 1992, and The Discovery, w/Robert S. Goodman, 2016), I reached an intersection in the road, yanked the wheel to the left, and became a writer of nonfiction. (photo © Louis Kraft 2001)

Sound like fiction? Maybe. Sound like a film plot? Perhaps. … For LK it is nonfiction with many intricate pieces that must merge in a linear fashion and not jerk all over the place. … Been there and done that. But that doesn’t count for the scope of this manuscript is massive and I must connect all the players and events in a manner that makes the reader turn pages.

That’s right—turn pages. I believe that nonfiction is just like fiction, plays, film, articles, talks, and blogs. It must grab the reader’s (or viewer’s) interest at the beginning and hold it until the end. Will I succeed at this? You’ll have to read Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway to learn the answer.

Ladies and gents, the question of the Sand Creek manuscript being published in my lifetime is now passé. I’m one tired and skinny cowboy but I get up between four and five with a big grin on my face almost seven days each week.

A big grin, for my tablespoon of organic apple cider vinegar in a glass of water and then a cup or three of coffee begins my days of exploration and confirmation and word-crafting and polishing. … This is a golden time for LK and it gets better as the days pass, for this is just the beginning. See below.

The reality of this time

I don’t want to say that it was bad. At the same time I don’t want to say that it was good.

As I floated for months in a no-man’s zone that hovered between success and failure I was totally alive as each day merged into the next and the next and the next. One edit became the next edit and then the next, with each a challenge all its own. I’m social, very social, and get along with all people (two exceptions being racists and sexual predators that hit on me and other people; perhaps I should add habitual liars to the list). I’m also a loner. Although I want a special person in my life at all times I can thrive in a solitary environment. … Although I have many people that are a major part of my literary/creative world (these people are my best friends), and I spend a lot of time with them via the phone, email, social media, as well as in person whenever I get lucky. When it gets down to the writing it is me, my computer, pens, and paper. Zero days pass without work, and this drives me to the next day and the one after. I live and breathe my work.

This is my lady praying at Tujunga House on 9sept2018. We have two different upbringings, two different cultures, two different languages, and two different religions. When we met we took our time and slowly got to know each other, to respect each other, to trust each other, to explore each other’s lives, and to love each other. (photo © Pailin Subanna-Kraft & Louis Kraft, 2018)

I am with my lady 100 percent of the time day in and day out no matter what our work schedules are. One hundred percent of the time. If someone badmouths her or hints that I should cheat because they have an open relationship I don’t run to the bathroom and vomit. Still you do not want to
hear my opinion of these slimballs for it isn’t printable in this blog or elsewhere. AND I don’t talk about them with friends either. For me
people like this aren’t worthy of mentioning. They are dirt, they mean nothing, and I remove them from my life.

Add racism to the formula, and I can say one thing and it is important—I grew up in a racially-tolerant family at a time when racism was rampant in the USA. Over the years all of us have seen a massive amount of progress to alleviate this hateful and harmful blot on the world. Unfortunately something evil took center stage in 2015 and people embraced a man who has no respect for humankind or women or the truth. This opened a door and racists crashed through it. It is the here and now, but like all evil that has thrown a dark shadow over the world in the past it will be pushed to the side and a humanitarian light will once again shine.

LK (right), Linda Kraft (left, d. 2006), and our mother Doris (center, d. 1980) in 1955 at the Van Nuys trailer park, our first permanent home in Los Angeles after parking the trailer in rural backyards for a long period of time. The car was a 1950 Hudson Commodore and it pulled the 35-foot trailer in the background to California. My dad owned the car from when he bought it in 1950 until 1998, a year before his death (and I had many happy memories driving it). (photo © Louis Kraft 1955)

My first best friend was a Latino (in a time when the word wasn’t used). I was seven and he was five or six. I was Walt Disney’s Davy Crockett and he was my sidekick (actually, he was also Davy Crockett for we were equals, even at that age and time) as we climbed the man-made mountain on the west side of the trailer park where we lived in Van Nuys, California, in 1955. We climbed it and slid down into the wonder of the Los Angeles River that flowed on the other side of what would become the infamous Ca. 405 freeway. We were explorers as we followed the flow of the river on the sandbanks below the trees that lined the water flow. It was a mystical time. Others—not many—also skirted the river; some adults and others younger. Not once were Jesse and I ever threatened. Try to do this in our 2018 world and Jesse Carrera and I would have become easy targets.

A Little about how I write and the Sand Creek peer reviews

Although I write my books from proposals and outlines there are no preconceived directions, and it doesn’t matter what the writing medium is, for I go where the research and the words lead me.

For the record I over-write everything and I don’t care what my subject or genre is. The reason is simple: The more facts, anecdotes, quotes, events, people’s actions the better for when it is time to cut, edit, add, polish, and bring the words together the better chance I have of creating the manuscript that I envision. … At same time I’m totally aware of the contracted word count.

Pailin on the bluffs to the west of the Sand Creek village at the Sand Creek Massacre National Historic Site (NHS) on 3oct2014. Our wonderful friends John and Linda Monnett, whom we had been staying with, drove us there that day. This is one of my favorite images of Pailin, as she is an explorer and as at home in the field as I am. She’s also like me in that she is a little goofball. (photo © Louis Kraft & Pailin Subanna-Kraft, 2014)

I had begun editing the manuscript in June 2018 in the hope to deliver a polished manuscript by 15sept2018—an impossible deadline, and especially so when I received the two peer reviews in early August. As expected they were professional, well done, and with a lot of good comments and questions. As it turned out neither said a word about the huge word count and both highly recommended publication.

One of the reviewers had the following to say about the Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway manuscript: “Kraft … purposefully devotes nearly two-thirds of his manuscript to that time before conflict [meaning before the Sand Creek Massacre]. That portion of the work is delightfully original and a marvelous setup to the final third of the book, when for the Southern Cheyennes their world changed forever.”

LK with Scott Gillette, chief of interpretation at the Sand Creek Massacre NHS administration building in Eads, Colo., on 3oct2014. Scott has always been open and friendly to me, and he has time and again aided my research. Thank you, Scott. … Oh yeah, they sell Ned Wynkoop and the Lonely Road from Sand Creek. (photo © Pailin Subanna-Kraft & Louis Kraft, 2014)

He went on to say, “Kraft has a fine way with words. … There are any number of Sand Creek histories, some good, some atrocious. Kraft’s point is not to refight the episode but to use it as a defining moment in the telling of a multi-generational history of the Southern Cheyennes, from their earliest appearances through Sand Creek and slightly beyond to the coming of the reservation era. No other Sand Creek history contextualizes this story as he does. Equally if not more important, this reader is unaware of any comparably detailed history of the Southern Cheyennes told within the same broad timeframe that Kraft embraces. That alone makes this work a gem.” Finally this reviewer said something that blew me away: “Kraft knows this story and its primary and secondary sources intimately. He utilizes his sources soundly, challenges in his notes various source shortcomings, contradictions, and nuances; notes where sources have been misused by others; and in all fashions a story destined to be deemed, I believe, definitive on the subject.”

Whew! …

Heady words, kind words, and I didn’t expect them. I hope that they prove out to be true. Time will tell.

I had miles to walk and thousands upon thousands of words to cut while fine-tuning the story line and polishing.

A return to the Woolsey fire destruction

I can’t walk away from the Woolsey fire and its destruction of film history. In July 2016, I traveled to Lasky Mesa, a massive mountainous and valley area (in the Upper Las Virgenes Canyon Open Space Preserve), an easy 35 minute drive from my house on Victory Boulevard). I met companion at his apartment on that day, and he drove. After parking in the lot where Victory Boulevard dead-ends at to the eastern entry to the Open Space Preserve you have perhaps a two-mile hike around and over hills as you work your way to an open area surrounded by hills and in the distance mountains—Lasky Mesa. Dirt roads and paths meander through the area and down into small canyons. That July there was a lot of dried grass up to my knees.

On 13jul2016 LK stood where Errol Flynn’s Seventh Cavalry rode to their death in They Died with Their Boots On (Warner Bros., 1941). (photo © Louis Kraft 2016) … For the record three of the eight Flynn-de Havilland films were westerns, and all had back stories that will be dealt with in detail in Errol & Olivia.

This mostly-ignored hilly area has been seen in many major films from the Golden Age of Cinema. This includes Errol Flynn’s glorious death as George Armstrong Custer (They Died with Their Boots On) that was shot in fall 1941. That day I saw the tree near where Errol Flynn and Alan Hale sat upon their horses as the coach with Flynn’s then wife Nora Eddington approached at the end of Adventures of Don Juan (Warner Bros., 1948), … as well as the tree from a famous scene from Gone with the Wind (Selznick International Pictures/MGM, 1939). I have this film on DVD but have not seen it in decades (and never in one complete screening) as the film bores me to tears. However, for Errol & Olivia (and sooner than I now expect) it will become a film that I study in detail while I decide what I’ll say about Olivia de Havilland’s performance.

Hours of 100+ temperatures put me in trouble by the time my research on Lasky Mesa neared conclusion. I had a backpack with a lot of water but the heat soared to 105-106 degrees (as I knew it would). By about three in the afternoon I headed back to the parking lot where the car was parked. One problem. I still had a long walk in front of me. Would I make it was not only on my mind but a true threat. I climbed a hill only to continue to meander to the right and left as I descended, climbed, and worked my way back to the vehicle.

Lasky Mesa is north (or east) of the Ca. 101 freeway as it slices northwest and skirts the Pacific Ocean. Soon after one can exit the 101 and drive west on Kanan Dume Road toward the Santa Monica Mountains until it reaches the Pacific Ocean. To the north of the road as it begins to enter the mountains is/was the Paramount Ranch (a back lot for a major film studio in Los Angeles during days gone by).

Fire devastation beyond human tragedy

But by no means has this been only humankind’s loss. The devastation has been beyond belief throughout California over the last few years, and not just to the families that have lost everything (many of whom won’t be able to rebuild as the cost has become prohibitive), but also for the loss of the trees and grasses and plants that are native to Southern California (actually all of California). And I cannot forget the wild life, many of whom have been forced to share their land with invading humans. I’m certain that this has not been an easy adaptation for them.

Lizards

I have pet lizards. I call them pets as I talk to them and often they listen, but they aren’t pets. I walk carefully when they are present as I don’t want to frighten them for they are wild. … I don’t know their view of me, but I consider them friends.

I took this photo of Tujunga House at 4:41 am on 6feb2018. It is a photo, not art, and it is full frame. There was an early morning fog and I took advantage of it and captured some great images. The foreground light was provided by a telephone pole that is just south of the driveway. The front yard is a good portion of the lizards’ homeland, and it is a wonder to watch them enjoy their environment. (photo © Louis Kraft 2018)

I don’t feed the lizards, but Pailin and I have created a home for them on the north side of the driveway with two pieces of granite near a huge bougainvillea in a plantable area that I cleared except for one white rosebush. The lizards discovered that the granite provided shelter from the elements and they have made the area their home. Tujunga House is surrounded by mostly desert vegetation. I don’t water often, but when I do it is for my lemon trees, bamboo, and roses (Pailin makes rose tea). Every so often I’ll water a plant that needs it, only to give one of the lizards a shower. It darts away, stops, turns and stares at me, almost as if saying, “What the hell are you doing?” … They know that we keep two monsters (a Vette and an M-B), and when they come to life and growl the lizards get off the driveway to where they will be safe and watch until the beasts come to a halt or leave their land. …

How many lizards died in the Woolsey fire? I could never venture a guess, but I know that it was way-too-many.

P-64

Here I’m also talking about an animal that is my favorite as it is so sleek and graceful (more so than wolves or horses or coyotes or doberman pinchers, my other favorite animals). They are sometimes called panthers, but much-more often pumas. They are mountain lions that live in Los Angeles (city and county). When caught, and they are never harmed, they receive a GPS collar, tagged, and given a name designated with a “P-” and a number. They are then returned to their habitat, tracked, observed, but never fed or pampered. If sick, and cameras are set up in areas they frequent, and their condition is captured, they are medically treated and returned to their homeland that ranges through the Santa Monica Mountains that separate downtown Los Angeles, the Westside, and the beaches from the San Fernando Valley (SFV) and the Ca. 101 freeway that connects downtown Los Angeles with the SFV (population of 1.75 million) to Agoura Hills, Malibu, Westlake, Thousand Oaks, Oxnard, Ventura, and onward to Santa Barbara and beyond.

Above is P-64 in the photo (courtesy: National Park Service). He was captured in February 2018 in the Simi Hills, Ventura County (northwest of LA County) and fitted with his collar and tag in his ear. This image shows him exiting a blind culvert that is in total darkness as it zigzags under the Ca. 101 freeway. The day after he was set free he became the second puma to be captured on film crossing the 101 freeway (I don’t believe that it was this image). Since that time he crossed not only the 101 but also the Ca. 118 freeway that slices through the northern portion of the SFV and into Simi Valley. It is not known how many times he crossed these freeways risking death by dodging speeding autos during night hours (unfortunately numerous mountain lions have lost their lives doing this), but he was tracked doing it forty-one times since he received his collar.

P-64 was a pathfinder and adventurer in that he expanded his habitat while trapped inside civilization. This was how it always was for him; the only life he ever knew. Then fire, fire, and more fire that increased time and again over recent years. But this time it wasn’t beyond the next hill—it was all around him. On November 26, and again on the twenty-eighth his GPS tracked him. But Jeff Sikich, a wildlife biologist who tracked the four-year old, said he was caught between the avalanche of blaring sirens, an army of firefighters, and frantic humans, and moved back into the burnt area near Oak Park and the Simi Hills in Ventura County. Glen Williams and I discussed P-64 in detail on December 10 and decided he was terrified and chose the best of his two options.

I believe that this is Jeff Sikich displaying two of P-64’s paws. Sikich located him near a streambed on December 3, 2018, about two or three days after he died. He wasn’t burned by flames but was forced to cross hot embers. The burns were severe, which would have hindered his hunting. It has been surmised that the burns might have led to infection. (photo courtesy: National Park Service)

The pumas have adapted to the massive encroachment upon their homeland. They cross freeways and range north and east and west of the San Fernando Valley. Some are in the San Gabriel Mountains that are on the northern side of the San Gabriel Valley (the next valley to the east of the SFV, where I wrote for software companies for 12 years). Mountain lions are predators and they do live off the land. Thus one must be careful when in their territory.

Our mountain lions are famous and often the Los Angeles Times prints articles of births, status, activity, and accomplishments of those we have come to know (and in my case, and friend Julie McHam) care about. Unfortunately the Times also shares their end of life.

Another piece of Hollywood lost to flames

This is one of the photos that Glen Williams shot at the Paramount Ranch on 25may2012. (photo © Louis Kraft & Glen Williams 2012)

To the north of Kanan Dume Road as it moves west from the Ca. 101 freeway and toward the Santa Monica Mountains is/was the Paramount Ranch (Paramount Pictures was a major film studio in Hollywood during the glory days long gone; so many mergers and purchases have happened I don’t know who owns it now). I worked at the studio in the ’70s and early ’80s; Nice place to work. My bro Glen Williams and I did a photo shoot at the western town on the Paramount Ranch (just building fronts for all interiors would be shot on sound stages) in May 2012. A good day for LK. In the dark ages I earned money as a model. Hated it! But the money paid bills. This modeling with Glen (as was other great excursions with him) was for companionship, as well as photos that might be used for publicity or for artwork. … Sadly the Paramount Ranch no longer exists. It had provided locations for films and now it is a piece of California history.* Just thinking about this brings tears to my eyes.

* Friend Dennis Clark saw in his local newspaper that the western town would be rebuilt within the next 24 months. My fingers are crossed that the article he read is accurate. If yes, Glen, ol’ bro, we need to do a Paramount Ranch photo shoot 2. If yes, I want our ladies to join us and make it a foursome.

Wynkoop and the Sand Creek manuscript

Errol Flynn’s portrayal of George Armstrong Custer (They Died with Their Boots On, Warner Bros., 1941) brought me to Custer, a lot of articles, talks, and Custer and the Cheyenne: George Armstrong Custer’s Winter Campaign on the Southern Plains (see Custer and the Cheyenne wins the Jay D. Smith award for its contribution to the study of Custeriana), Upton and Sons, Publishers, 1995).

LK with Chuck Rankin at the Western History Association convention in Oakland, Calif., on 15oct211. Ned Wynkoop and the Lonely Road from Sand Creek premiered at this event. The poster in the background is now displayed at Tujunga House. (photo © Louis Kraft and Chuck Rankin, 2011)

Mr. Custer brought me to the Cheyennes and a fellow named Ned Wynkoop. When I started writing and talking about Wynkoop in the 1980s (and he had a lot to do with Colorado Territory history in the 1860s) I never dreamed that he would lead me to a major player in my writing life that I didn’t meet until the beginning of this century—Charles (Chuck) Rankin, the former editor-in-Chief of University of Oklahoma Press (OU Press). Chuck played a big part in the development of Lt. Charles Gatewood & His Apache Wars Memoir (University of Nebraska Press, 2005). We spent many years talking about Wynkoop as we developed a proposal that would work for both of us. When we got together in Oklahoma City in 2006 he said to me that the beginning of a manuscript draft I sent him was a little light in content. “… And I’m 15,000 words over my contracted limit,” I replied. “Why don’t we spilt the manuscript into two books?” “Let’s think about this,” he said. During the next month or two he agreed to increase the manuscript from the contracted 90,000 words to 125,000 words.

Shortly before Ned Wynkoop and the Lonely Road from Sand Creek (OU Press, 2011) went into production Chuck asked me if I’d like to write a book about the Sand Creek Massacre. I told him, “No. I write about people and not war.” Chuck refused to walk away and over the next year or so we talked in person, on the phone, and via email. We worked on a proposal that was suitable to both of us. The contracted word count was 125,000-135,000, and I needed the higher number (and more) as the scope was huge to show and not tell what happened.

That was then … this is now

In April of this year I was informed that for the Sand Creek manuscript to be published in 2019 I needed to submit a completed draft for peer review, deal with the peer reviews, and deliver a polished manuscript no later than 15sept2018. As I didn’t have a completed rough first draft … on May 31 I delivered an incomplete but huge draft for review. I don’t gamble with cards or money but I do gamble with my projects. This was a big-time LK gamble for one and certainly two thumbs-down reviews would end my relationship with OU Press.

LK image shot by Pailin on 4aug2018 by request of the OU Press Publicity Department. There were exteriors with a hat and interiors w/o a hat. This photo I like (as I’m happy) but it is slightly out of focus (photo © Louis Kraft & Pailin Subanna-Kraft 2018)

It was an impossible task, and one I knew would never happen. … Still I dug in and pressed forward. In early August I received the two peer reviews. Both were positive and provided first-class comments (which required additional words), and more important neither mentioned that my incomplete manuscript was huge or that I should trim the word count (which was then 204,000+).

Hey Kraft, this mess is your creation.

I know. … and as I said above the more words, events, and character development I have the better it is to cut, add, edit, rewrite, and polish. In other words I am now in LK heaven (or perhaps LK hell). My days and nights merged—became one. Sleep was a delicacy that I no longer had. Days passed and September 15 loomed. Delivering a polished manuscript that was close to the required contracted word limit vanished. Current OU Press Editor-in-Chief Adam Kane upped the word count to 150,000. This was impossible and I told him I needed 160,000 words or more.

On September 14 I emailed Adam and told him that I would not make the 15th deadline (meaning there would be no publication of the book in 2019). A big loss as I don’t want to be like Errol Flynn and have my last book published after my death, a scenario that walks with me more often than desired. Back to the positive, missing that deadline was a godsend.

September 15 came and went, and I pounded the keyboard. A hundred words gone, a thousand words gone, five thousand words gone, and more and more. As I knew it would, the manuscript tightened and flowed.

An example of a long-gone Laser Disc cover of The Time Machine (MGM, 1960) signed by Rod Taylor and supporting player Alan Young. The film  was extraordinary in 1960 but it hasn’t survived time well, mainly because special effects have seen lightyears of improvement since the ’60s. Taylor’s performance was decent, but this film is not close to being in my upcoming top 50 LK films blog (tentatively scheduled for late March 2019), which will also feature Valley CORF (Tarzana, Calif.), a breathing, balance, and strength clinic that has done wonders for LK. … There is a good chance that Taylor will have three films on the list.

It was almost as if I was Rod Taylor in his star-making film The Time Machine (MGM, 1960) as I sat in front of my computer for the days flashed forward at lightening speed and words changed, sometimes to grow while often many disappeared in an ongoing merge of days, weeks, months.

This was my now while it was also my then. A vast desert of sweltering heat that I’ve walked time and again. Familiarity beckons confidence. Been there! Done that! … and I know the outcome. We’re talking about my freelance writing, but we’re also talking about my twenty-plus years writing for the software world. ZOOOOOMMMMMM!!!! I’m Rod Taylor riding his time machine … NO! I’m LK sitting tall in my chair as my fingers dance over the keyboard and my monitor flashes the changes in real time. I’m alive in my world. …

My world! …

Two hundred four thousand plus words fade into history for it has become 197,000, 191,000, 185,000, 179,000, 173,000, 168,000, 165,000 … and counting.

Today’s Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway

The “was” brought me into the “now.” On 15nov18 I delivered my “last” rough Sand Creek draft to Adam Kane. Actually by an email mistake, but that didn’t matter as I had anticipated making the delivery on November 16, which would have been the same draft minus a few files that were meant LK’s eyes only.

I will deliver the maps to cartographer Bill Nelson and Adam on January 7, 2019, and my polished Sand Creek draft to Adam on the fourteenth.

I have been collecting possible events and locations for the maps as I have worked my way through my manuscript polish. At the moment there are a fair amount of choices but most will be eliminated as space is limited. I don’t want to tell you what the selections are but those chosen will be based upon what I consider primary locations and actions during the flow of the text.

As stated elsewhere in this blog I do everything possible to show and not tell in my books. I can’t begin to tell you how important this is—at least to me. When Chuck and I created the 37-page proposal for the Sand Creek manuscript “show and don’t tell” was forever front and center. This takes more words but the extra words are worth their weight in gold a thousand times over when the book is published. This is as it should always be. Words are mandatory but it is the showing that must grab the readers and never let go. If done correctly the reader will turn pages, and more than they anticipate. From my POV this is how all books should be written. … Honestly, any book that puts you or me to sleep after two or three pages is a piece of crap and I don’t give a bleep about its reviews or awards or how many books have sold. In some cases all are valid and well earned. However, sometimes they are not. If you live in LA you would know that we suffer through a film/TV awards season that begins in the early fall and doesn’t end until the last Oscar is presented the following year (next year’s presentation is on 24feb2019). The amount of money spent stuffing “created” contenders down our throats on a daily basis is obscene. You don’t want to hear my views on this for they aren’t printable. It’s a part of the world, … just not my part. Pardon my English, but ass-licking or paying big bucks to win an award is something I refuse to do.

Maps

Until the Ned Wynkoop and the Lonely Road from Sand Creek I had created the maps for my previous books. Believe it or not over the years I improved my skill at creating them.

This map from Lt. Charles Gatewood & His Apache Wars Memoir (University of Nebraska Press, 2005) was reprinted in Lt. Col. Paul Fardink’s (USA-Ret.) article, “Lieutenant Charles B. Gatewood: Premier Cavalry Soldier of the American West,” in On Point: The Journal of Army History, winter 2014. Paul had interviewed me for the article and had wanted it at the end of his prose. The editor disagreed and moved it into the flow of the text and it worked out fine for Paul and myself. Paul’s article is terrific and I’m proud to be part of it. (map © Louis Kraft 2004)

Two of my maps have been reprinted. The Custer and the Cheyenne (1995) map that illustrated Custer’s attack on Black Kettle’s village on 27nov1868 appeared in Sandy Barnard’s A Hoosier Quaker Goes to War: The Life & Death of Major Joel H. Elliott, 7th Cavalry, 2010). The lone map from Lt. Charles Gatewood & His Apace Wars Memoir (University of Nebraska Press, 2005) illustrated Gatewood’s search for Chiricahua Apaches Geronimo (war leader and mystic) and Naiche (the last hereditary chief of the tribe) and the remnants of their people in Sonora, Mexico, in July-August 1886, and then talked them into returning to the United States and surrendering for the last time.

Chuck Rankin wanted me to use a cartographer for the Wynkoop book and this request began my association with Bill Nelson, whom I hired to create the maps from my rough drafts. The entire creation and review process was a total pleasure, and his maps are first class.

Adam had requested rough drafts of the Sand Creek maps, and all was a go with me supplying them to him and Bill Nelson (who I again contracted) by the end of December, which I have since moved out to January 7, 2019. … On 10dec2018 Adam told me, “We are fans of Bill’s work here so look forward to seeing the new ones for this latest book.”

I’m not going to tell you how I’m prepping the new maps, or what’s going to be in them but if all goes well they will include some locations/actions usually not seen on maps.

This was the rough draft that I submitted to Wild West for my feature on the Chiricahua Apache war leader Geronimo (“Geronimo’s Gunfighter Attitude,” October 2015). Not to brag but some of the locations had never before been placed on a map. A lot of work, and although the magazine’s cartographer created the final map from my draft Editor Greg Lalire and WW, both of whom have always been kind to me, paid me for this draft. (map © Louis Kraft 2015)

I have been selecting possible locations and actions for the map drafts as I work my way through what will be my polished draft of the Sand Creek manuscript. I had pitched a third map to deal with the Sand Creek village at the time of the massacre. All of the printed maps that deal with the massacre are incomplete at best and misleading at worse. I’m not going to reprint any of them or create a new map based upon them. There is current information that I am not privy to, and if I cannot learn the details that are available but not shared there will be no Sand Creek village map in Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway. … Not my choice, but I’m not going to print a map based information that I don’t consider valid. If this becomes reality—and I pray not—there will be no third map unless I have a replacement map that I’m not yet completely sold on (but on the plus side it might dip into Old Mexico).

How can this be Louis? Simple; about 8,000 words deal with the massacre, making it a small piece of my Sand Creek story. Not to worry for the SC massacre section is explosive and graphic. The goal here has always been to grab the readers and not let go (we’ll see if I succeeded when the book is published). Still, I want a map with the most up-to-date information about the Sand Creek village circles if indeed they are known, and I don’t think that they are. If so, they are a well-hidden secret. For the record I know the names of 15 Cheyenne chiefs who were present on that tragic day. I have been told that there were 20 Cheyenne chiefs present with no names or documentary proof that I’ve seen. I would love to have this information and the order of the chiefs’ village circles (if it exists).

Photo at right shows Southern Cheyenne Chief Harvey Pratt (left) on 30mar2017 near El Reno, Oklahoma, when he was honored by the Cheyenne and Arapaho tribes for his service to the tribal community. He is with his friend Dee Cordry, an historian and former police officer, on the day of the ceremony. Eleven chiefs of the Cheyenne Tribal Council of Forty-four were present, as were the tribal governor and lieutenant governor. (Good friend Dee Cordry shared this image with me.)

Major information that is currently denied LK that must be in the Sand Creek book

I have information from Dee Cordry, who is writing a book that deals with a lot of people I deal with in my manuscript. I’m sorry, but I must remain vague here to protect Dee’s manuscript as well my mine, but what he shared is absolutely mandatory to see print, and Adam Kane totally agrees.Phot

This information when published by Dee and myself will destroy ongoing errors that have been propagated for decades and often reprinted without citations or ones that are error-riddled at best or created simply to disguise what doesn’t exist/never existed or worse create a lie based upon a writer’s premise (which some writers refuse to change regardless of where their research leads).

An example of lies in the real world

Many years back, but soon after Custer and the Cheyenne was published, a preeminent Little Bighorn/Custer historian called me and said he was writing a review of my Custer/Cheyenne book. He read about a quarter of his review (which, when published was over a page and a half in an 8″ x 11″ publication). Great stuff and I loved his words. He got me to talk about the young Cheyenne woman Mo-nahs-e-tah (phonetic spelling of her name); a major mistake by LK, and for all of you who write books when someone calls and states that he/she is writing a review about your work think carefully about who they are and what their motivation is for calling you. If there is just hint of a scam slam your phone down on the receiver. Do it! If you don’t you may regret what follows. … I did.

A year or so later this historian/cum-reviewer and I both spoke at a symposium in SoCal. I called the host and told him that if the historian attacked me verbally that I would retaliate. The historian kept his mouth shut and we actually enjoyed spending time together and talking.

This photo was taken on Christmas day, 2018. Do I look “snarky”? Perhaps, … or maybe I’m simply “cocky.” (photo © Louis Kraft 2018)

Two things that need to be said

Ladies and gents, I want to make something absolutely clear right now—people and archives play major roles in all of my published work. I am forever grateful for their contributions.

I have pointed out errors in books published over the last 50 years. Some of them are heinous but have been reprinted time and again (and often without any documentation). One of my peer reviewers tore into me big time for pointing out published errors; he even stated that I was “snarky.” Snarky? Maybe he’s correct. I don’t care for I’m sick and tired of seeing old errors repeated ad nauseam. This reviewer rightfully stated that I needed to temper my comments (hopefully I’ve been able to follow his suggestion). At this point in time much of my proof of erroneous documentation has been purged from the manuscript. In its place I have inserted notes that mention the errors without pointing the finger at published works, and simply warning readers to be wary of documents that use the previously published errors.* Hopefully historians and readers who read these words heed them.

* Of course a few instances existed where this was impossible to do. I guess I’m still “snarky.” Sorry.

LK writing and life in his world

I don’t view myself as a liar, for sometimes I need a break from almost continuous seven-day weeks for what seems like forever. The blogs are fun for me, while being time intensive. More important they are research for my nonfiction or that memoir I usually ignore when I talk about my writing projects. If ever I finish the memoir, and it is doable as I have a ton of research in house, I will never see it published. Errol Flynn never saw his final book published (My Wicked, Wicked Ways, Putnam and Sons, 1959), and no one was able to sue him for telling what I believe were truthful words about some of the people he knew well. … Let’s carry the LK memoir one step forward. It is completed and placed with a publisher. At that time I will make certain that we are in sync when it can be published, and that time will be right after I’m dancing with angels. Am I joking or am I serious? Be patient for time will give you an answer.

Throughout our early life together I moved Pailin’s car out of our long driveway so that I could use my car; that is moving her car onto the street, moving my car onto the street, moving her car back onto the driveway, and then walking to my car on the street. She suggested parking her car under a carport that we didn’t use as it had been blocked by a fence I installed about 2009 and a huge orange tree that had died about 2013. A great idea! In December 2015 I removed the steel fence, chopped down the tree, removed its root system, filled in the hole, pounded the earth, before the Vette pressed down the earth. This photo was taken in the late afternoon on December 9 after quitting work. (photo © Louis Kraft 2015)

On 24jun2018 my life took another detour. That Sunday the sole of one of my yard-work moccasins came loose and caught on the small red stones I installed in 2015 for the drive to Pailin’s carport (the Vette lives in the garage), and I took a flying dive forward. There was a pole in front of me—I had to protect the pacemaker—and twisted to my left to avoid a head-on collision or worse, nailing the pacemaker. While knowing that the impact wouldn’t be pretty I had to make a perfect landing. Acting and swashbuckling training provided what I needed to know—that is, how to fall. Still, my flying body was like a biplane crash-landing during WWI. Add deep-deep gashes, huge bruises, and burns along the left side of my body. But it was a good day for my noggin’ didn’t slide along the stones and neither did the pacemaker. Nevertheless I saw my heart specialist pronto. The moccasins were exiled to the black trashcan.

This has been my life for years now, and yet I’m alive. They say that the good die young. If so, what am I? … Evil? Maybe, but I don’t think so. Still, there are some people that will agree with this. For the record there’re not my friends.

I’ve discussed cracked skulls and trips to the emergency room, I’ve detailed the perfect storm that resulted in me continuing walk our earth, and I’m not repeating this here. (If interested see: Louis Kraft perfect storm and the Sand Creek Massacre).

I’m not going to tell about this book, except to say that it is one of the best books I’ve ever written. The reviews have been kind. If you want to see some background on the book, along with a few of the reviews, see: Books 2/The Discovery tab. Believe it or not, a number of the reviews state that it would make a good film or mini-series. This said, beware if you decide to read it for there is extreme violence, as well as sexual intimacy, and a darkness that at times is overwhelming, and would give the story an extreme “R” rating if ever produced as a film (perhaps stronger depending upon the script and director). A good friend, Tom Eubanks, read about 30 pages and stopped. He told me he knew where book was going. All I can say is that he was clueless, for the two leading players are on the book cover and he never met the newborn as an adult, and that is where the medical, judicial, intense character-study thriller begins. Begins. … BTW, the title is misleading while being dead on target. (art and book cover design © Louis Kraft 2016)

This said, my time has been questionable ever since I made a habit of cracking the back of my skull open. Other than a partnership on The Discovery with Robert S. Goodman that began at the time I needed to pay for a surgery that I didn’t know about until after the fact (oh yeah LK has gone from someone with wads of cash in his pockets to someone who picks up bottles on the street). This began in 2012 by my choice. At that time I endured a practice that was totally illegal, totally unethical, and yet a manager I saw only three times in my life not only backed the policy he salivated while supporting it. I doubt that I will ever write about it (although it is well documented; perhaps I should add it to my archive in Santa Fe). Alas, today truth in the USA is a dangerous thing to share. Money almost always wins out.

Regardless, I decided to never again write for the software world, and at that time I was pulling in six figures.

For the record, I believe that writers must move between different genres and push themselves to the limit as they explore and improve their craft.

The Discovery was a detour and at the same time the most important one in my writing life

Bob Goodman has been my physician for almost 30 years, and he along with another five specialists keep me living a good physical life. In 2002 Bob saw something that if not fixed would have led to my death in 2003 or perhaps early 2004. I owe him a lot. Add that I like him a lot, and when he approached me to partner with him to write his terrific story idea (folks, his premise was magnificent). More, as it was an historical piece that spanned over 20 years between the early 1950s and the early 1970s with a huge cast of players (read the Sand Creek story for scope and cast list), and I knew that it could give me what I needed for my nonfiction manuscript—learning how to make a story with many people whose actions are all over the place work in a linear progression. At this time the Sand Creek manuscript didn’t flow forward smoothly. Read that it was hackneyed at best; I’m sorry but that wasn’t acceptable.

A work in progress of LK and Bob Goodman (even though it carries a 2017 copyright). He hasn’t seen it yet. I had hoped to complete it this year and give it to him. Nope! Story of my life: A day late and a dollar short. … I will finish this painting hopefully in 2019 for I will be seeing him then. (art © Louis Kraft 2017)

The Discovery gave me what I needed to pull Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a LIfeway together and become reality. Hell, I’ve been a professional writer for decades and I was having trouble. I still had a massive amount of word crafting of facts and time in front of me to make the tragic end of the Cheyenne and Arapahos’ lifeway move forward in an acceptable manner. But now I was in the driver’s seat. God love you, Bob! I cherish our relationship and our partnership.

The other influences on my writing life

Technical writing had been a terrific experience. It is fast, demanding, and the deadlines are deadly. DEADLY. … When I worked in the film world you worked eight hours. After that it was time and a half and then after 10 hours more dollar bills flowed out of a fountain. On feature films I didn’t experience that much overtime but in TV it was a different story. On the last day of a medical TV pilot (read an hour and a half and shot in 15 or 17 days; can’t remember) the limited shoot (my guess at this late date as I didn’t keep the “call sheets,” which gave you a start time each day and what was being filmed that day) was get what was absolutely necessary and discard the un-shot script pages. That last day and night we worked 23 hours. My eyes turned into dollar signs. Often there were previews; I never saw one for this pilot, never saw the pilot on TV, and it never became a TV show. Not the first time or the last time.

Since we’re dealing with film and TV and that other money-maker I hated but did when I needed money—modeling, let’s touch base with the entertainment world in the 1970s and 1980s.

LK art of Bob Ellenstein. His son, David, also an actor and director, saw it in a blog years back, contacted me, and asked if he could have a copy. Of course; I sent him copies set to print as an 8×10″ and various versions for the internet. It was good catching up with him (he was a little boy when I spent a lot of time with Bob and his mother Lois at their home on the Westside of LA). Bob and Lois also had an in-house bookstore, and they were able to get me all of the classic works published on the pirate Francis Drake in the early 1970s including many that were simply primary-source documents. You can bet that both nonfiction and fictional works dealing with Mr. Drake are a comin’. (art © Louis Kraft 2015)

Actually more important is me clarifying what I learned from Bob (Robert) Ellenstein, an actor/director I met in college when he was the professional guest directing professor during my senior year at CSUN. Actually I learned it after graduation when I studied acting with him. This time, beginning in summer 1969 and continuing for a number of years led to a friendship between us that extended long after I stopped studying acting under his guidance. … At one point Bob told the small acting class that I took with him in the early ’70s (between eight and ten people), “Whatever you do, make sure you can live with it.” This was the absolute best advice I have ever received in my life. The absolute best! … And I have lived by it ever since.

This doesn’t mean that I’m a good person; it means that I have never done anything that I could not live with. Put another way, I have never sold my soul or body for money or advancement.

The year 2020 is front and center as long as LK doesn’t mess it up

Although I’ve spent a fair amount of time dealing with writing extra words above I’m totally aware of my contracted word counts. This guarantees that I’ll never place myself in a situation wherein I’m below the word count, need more, but am clueless where to dig for more facts and events simply as a filler as this not a good way to complete a manuscript.

But this isn’t the problem. Actually, it shouldn’t be a problem for when I buy into a project it is for 100 percent. Simply, this means that I’m not just the writer. I have a vision for my print projects, and I do everything possible to insure that the final product is as close to what I originally envisioned. This means that I am present throughout the production process with my input. Sometimes this isn’t appreciated. Too bad. It is my project and my input will happen. What I say, do, or insist upon is not egotistical. Not at all—it is simply to improve what is published.

I originally created this art of Ned Wynkoop for an article of mine (“Ned Wynkoop’s Lonely Walk Between the Races”) in Custer and His Times, Book Five (2008). It has appeared in I think three (perhaps four) additional publications including two (three?) magazines. Originally it was an oval portrait but has also been landscape. This image was last printed in Symphony in the Flint Hills: Field Journal, Volume V (2013), and it provided me with my best payday with this portrait. (art © Louis Kraft 2007)

Often I submit my photos/art for publication. It brings in money (sometimes four or five times when I get lucky and an image is resold). This is good for it helps pay bills. Sometimes my art is used to reduce the cost of the image in university press books wherein I am responsible for assembling all the photos and art for the publication. I negotiate with artists and owners of historical images (often offering a book in exchange for using their art/images). I think that this is fair for I save money, they get a copy of the first edition of the book as well as the publicity.

Regarding using my images in publications, at times I’ve been pinged as some people don’t like writers creating art for their words. Honestly, I don’t understand the reasoning behind this and have refused to respond to these comments.

In the past I have publicized photos and art in consideration for Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway. The process has been ongoing for years, and I have been negotiating for a good part of this time with artists, private collections, as well as National Historic Sites.

Jerry Greene and Mr. Scott’s book (OU Press, 2004) is one of the better books published dealing with the massacre. The cover is a cropped version of Robert Lindneux’s Sand Creek Massacre art. The painting is landscape, so almost every book cover that features it has been cropped on one or both sides. This isn’t a problem when it is used in magazine articles. Jerry is a good friend whom I enjoy hanging out with whenever opportunity presents itself.

At the moment I am considering pushing two pieces of art for the cover, but I know as 2019 races toward summer that this number will increase. One thing is certain, the cliché art that has appeared on way-too-many Sand Creek books (some of which have nothing to do with the massacre) will not appear on my dust jacket—including Robert Lindneux’s painting (left), which is housed at History Colorado.

Want to read a terrific book dealing with the Cheyenne wars, read Jerry Greene’s Washita: The U.S. Army and the Southern Cheyennes, 1867-1869 (OU Press, 2004). While the book and dust jacket design were in production (I saw a proof of the cover art). Anita Donofrio, who kindly volunteered to do sound and lighting for an over-sold-out Wynkoop one-man show at the former Colorado Historical Society that year invited me to stay with her and her son (a totally delightful young man) the following week while I did research. She was/is a good friend of Jerry’s. I told her that if she invited him to dinner one night I’d cook. My reason: I wanted to meet him, and that evening, which went deep into the night, created a friendship.

Regarding LK’s cooking—don’t snicker. I’m a terrific cook, and have been for decades. … Gents, here’s a tip worth its weight in gold: The way to a woman’s heart is through her stomach (and I can prove this).

The here is now, … or is it put up or shut up?

I deliver my polished draft of Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway to Adam in two weeks. If this draft passes review—fingers are always crossed—it is all uphill from here. Meaning: LK will have a Cheshire Cat grin on his face until 2020.*

* Lewis Carroll created this cat and its mischievous grin in his book Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland (1865).

This Sun Microsystems badge was the only one I ever bothered to grab, and I had no clue at this late date why I did this. In 2005, when the company purchased Seebeyond Technology Corp., they had over 40,000 employees worldwide. by late 2008 that figure had dropped to 24,000 employees. Poor management had doomed the company, whose stock plummeted to obscene levels when in January 2009 69 percent of the former Seebeyond employees then in Monrovia, Calif., were laid off. Often they talk about loyalty in sports or the lack of. Take a quick look at the technical world and you’ll see that they make the sports world look like amateurs when it comes to eliminating personnel.I participate in all of my projects in every way possible. At times—and this is a major understatement—production teams from art directors to editors and everyone in between would love to lock me in a cell until the book is published. … And I’ve heard the comments (or read them) to know that this is a true statement. They’re professionals, and most of them are very good at what they do.

I participate in all of my projects in every way possible. At times—and this is a major understatement—production teams from art directors to editors and everyone in between would love to lock me in a cell until the book is published. … And I’ve heard the comments (or read them) to know that this is a true statement. They’re professionals, and most of them are very good at what they do.

Alas, so am I, and I have done what they do. I’ve designed books, dust jackets, newsletters (wherein I was the editor and designer), created art, maps, and know that I must pay close attention to what is happening during every step of the production process or things can and might happen that are bad (or worse), and this isn’t on the production team. It’s on me. My name is on the book or article, and that means one thing: If there are errors (anything from a note that is no longer accurate or apropos, inaccurate captions, quoted text blind-edited, whatever) there is only one person to blame—LK. I’ve missed changed captions, notes that no longer deal with what they supposedly confirm, and I cringe when I realize that a quote has been altered. This list is ongoing, including index entries that vanish, even though I thought they were important.

My manuscripts receive two copyedits and they usually take about a month each (but that was back when I wrote for software companies and often had two-plus hours of drive time and overtime almost every day). This is no longer the case. Although the Sand Creek manuscript has a larger word count I think that the copyedits will take only a month each to complete.

LK acceptance of the Wrangler Award for “When Wynkoop was Sheriff” (Wild West, April 2011) at the Western Heritage Awards banquet in Oklahoma City in April 2012. Yeah, Kraft does dress up sometimes. On this evening I was wearing Cheyenne beaded moccasins. For the record, Cheyennes wore low moccasins (unlike the Apaches and the high moccasins shown above). To cover and protect their legs the Cheyennes wore leggings, which are described in detail in Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway.

I want to say something here and it is of major importance. … I love my editors and copyeditors. Actually I consider myself one lucky SOB as I have been associated with OU Press and the University of Nebraska Press for they create first-class publications and are the two best Indian wars publishers in the world. In the world!

Unfortunately I think they and their production teams cringe when an LK manuscript arrives on their desks. Folks, I’m a historian, but I’ve also a teller of stories. This means I want character development. This isn’t easy in nonfiction. In the past I’ve had to fight to keep my character development. For example in Ned Wynkoop and the Lonely Road from Sand Creek (OU Press, 2011), his wife Louise is alone in their hotel room at La Fonda in Santa Fe, New Mexico Territory, when rats enter the room. She steps onto a chair and is still standing on it when Ned enters the room. Of course the rats scattered when he opened the door and he didn’t see them. He chides her, she gets angry and tells him to sit down. He does, and the rats return. Wynkoop leaps onto his chair, yanks out his Colt and begins shooting at the rats. This brings the hotel manager, who quickly moves them to another room. … The scene shows character, but the copyeditor cut it. I reinserted the scene and told her that it stays.

This image of LK was taken on the old Route 66 that sliced through a good portion of the USA back in days long gone. Alas, so are the towns, and some are little more than skeletons of what once was. My bro Glen Williams took this photo in front of a long-abandoned gas station in fall 2011 on the day after he and I delivered an LK archival package to Tomas Jahen (then of the Chávez History Library) and his family in Williams, Az. I really like Glen’s photo as it captured the destruction of a past that will soon vanish if not recorded. Ladies and gents, history will quickly fade into nothing if not recorded—Lost to time. Our grandparents, parents, and children (and that is all the personal history I have) will vanish without a trace if I don’t write about their lives. This is personal, and so is a memoir. (photo © Louis Kraft & Glen Williams 2011)

Many nonfiction books are stuffed with fact upon fact upon fact stringed together in—please forgive me good nonfiction writers for I’m not talking about you—long sterile sentences and paragraphs that can put me to sleep in two pages. I often must suffer through these, … these, … these, … what are they—Oh yeah, pages! Often they offer nothing that I need but I don’t know that until I read the last page. Wasted time? No, for I must know the answer. To borrow from the long departed TV show (which should have been left in peace) The X Files, “The Truth is Out There,” and I need to know it.

Long answer short. Good times are on the horizon for Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway is about to move into production (if accepted), a process I love for it is a collaboration of many people working together to make the published book as good as possible. There are many steps, many reviews, many changes, and many suggestions to make the final product of value to those who read it. For me it is a thrilling time.

In closing Global Warming is here to stay

… and it will only get worse if action is not taken during our lifetimes.

It is unbelievable how many nay-sayers there are to this statement. Conspiracy stories abound. I know people who insist that the fires in California and elsewhere in the American West, the hurricanes that assault the East Coast, the Southern Coast, the Caribbean, and Texas, as well as the typhoons in other portions of the world are nothing more that disasters created by the “government.” “The government? Who? Trump?” “No, the government. The Clintons, Obamas, and Bushes.” … Beachfront property in SoCal is losing the war with the Pacific Ocean as the waves increase in velocity and pound the cement barriers that protect these over-priced houses in LA and San Diego Counties. Eventually the sea will destroy them, and the process has already begun.

This image of Pailin and LK doesn’t belong here. This said, I have no images of Climate Control for its future is still unknown. The LK/PSK future is known, and this end of Christmas 2018 photo shows this. We are together and we are one until the end of our time of walking Mother Earth. (photo © Pailin Subanna-Kraft & Louis Kraft 2018)

Those that deny the changes of weather conditions, the melting of icepacks, spout vehemently that it is all fake news. Some have even told me that the violence and mass murders across the USA never happened. They claim that it is “government” false news to spread hatred and violence and that these “fictions” are filmed performances using actors. They claim that the reason is to reduce the population and eliminate the middle class. … I agree that the USA is becoming a world of the super rich and the poor (who will soon become homeless—at least in LA, the homeless capital of the USA).

What about the recent report on global warning by the Federal Government? “Fake news!” … Maybe I’m old fashioned, maybe I’m not in line with today’s world, but I have a lot of trouble with slogans—such as Fake News. Don’t believe me see the Los Angeles Times 24nov2018 article “Climate report warns of bleak future”.


Since May and my last blog the following seven months have been a blur.
At times I didn’t know if I was sleeping or awake. I was focused solely on the
Sand Creek manuscript and the health of the ladies in my life. That’s it; that’s all that mattered. I became Rod Taylor as he sped between centuries in H. G. Wells’ novel turned into the classic 1960 film
The Time Machine (which would have blasted the 2002
adaption to kingdom come if it had the special effects capabilities available
during the first decade of the 21st century). Beginning in 2011 I have
been on a joyride without end, a joyride that at times descended
into the depths of Hell, but is not yet complete and won’t be
until 2020 when the book is printed.

There is one LK truism for the upcoming year—There will be more blogs.
The question is when?

Louis Kraft, SoCal fires, earthquakes, Sand Creek Massacre, & an Errol Flynn tidbit

Website & blogs © Louis Kraft 2013-2020

Contact Kraft at writerkraft@gmail.com or comment at the end of the blogs


For starters Pailin and I hope that the day we celebrated Jesus Christ’s birth was a peaceful and loving one for you with your family and friends. … Also that you had a safe and uneventful New Year’s Eve. Ours was at Wat Thai (Thai Temple of Los Angeles in North Hollywood) praying and seeing some friends as we welcomed in 2018.

On 20dec2017 Mimi took this image of us at Jantana (pronounced Jan-ta-na) and Richard’s (pronounced Ri-chard’s) apartment in Northridge, California. (photo © Pailin Subanna-Kraft and Louis Kraft 2017)

The year 2017, more than any other, has made me realize how
fragile life really is. For the record, I have a family of four—three ladies
and yours truly. I’ve survived some horrific car crashes, I’ve had guns
pointed at me, a knife at my throat, I’ve taken a motorcycle over a
a cliff, I’ve been knocked cold (I don’t know if this counts), and
I’ve survived cracking my skull open more than once as
well as surgeries that had to succeed or I would I have
been dancing with Angels long before now.

My view: I love walking on Mother Earth.

Fire, wind, more fire, & more wind … a SoCal story

Elsewhere I’ve documented the frightening Los Angeles and Ventura County fires of December 2017. It’s rough when you can watch flames billow into ever-growing puffs of brown smoke that obliterate the sky. You know that property is being destroyed and animals are dying.

This image in the Los Angele Times dates to December 6, 2017, and is of a man attempting to calm a horse during the Sylmar/Creek fire. These fires in SoCal were absolutely devastating on horses and over livestock. My great friend and Apache scouts expert Layton Hooper commented numerous times about this image (as he also cares about animals). I couldn’t agree more with Layton’s views on horses and how they are innocent bystanders to man’s destruction of our world.

But often the men and women who combat these horrific Santa Ana winds that range upwards to 80 MPH and fuel the fires that ravage SoCal year-in-and-year-out fall under the radar. These people, these heroes, risk their lives on a daily basis. During the recent Sylmar/Canyon fire in the San Fernando Valley that put Pailin and I at risk (a December 6 LA government text read: Strong winds over night creating extreme fire danger. Stay alert. Listen to authorities.”), they worked 24-hour shifts to combat an enemy (wind and fire) that is a hundred times more devastating than the earthquakes that are associated with SoCal. These brave human beings deserve all our respect and thanks. Believe it or not, they aren’t alone for volunteers joined them along with fire fighters from other states as well as people serving jail time in California.

All of them are magnificent!!! Perhaps some of these heroes serving jail time should see the remainder of their sentences commuted.

… and the Thomas fire continues to burn (as of 30dec17).

I have favorite animals. Just five: Mountain lions (pumas), horses, wolves, coyotes, and doberman pinchers, The last are dogs, and they are the most gentle animals I have ever known. The Pumas are beyond belief, and they are a major part of my life as I follow their struggle to remain free in SoCal. Today, tomorrow, and always. These photos are from an article in the 27Dec2017 issue of the LA Times. This young Puma was burned while attempting to flee from the Thomas fire. It has been rescued and is on its way to recovery.

Ye-ough!!! (a sound) … For California 2018 will be back to normal if what the LA Times just published is accurate, mainly that this winter would be one of the driest in California history. If true next year’s fires will again ravish the Golden State. Pailin’s and my home was at fire risk twice in 2017 (June and October).

This image of a condor (left) and its chick was on the front page of the LA Times on 1jan2018, as it featured a story on endangered species chick no. 871, who should have left its cave and flew for the first time in December. It didn’t as the Thomas Fire ravished the Los Padres Sespe Condor Sanctuary. Scientists have recently seen its parents near the cave and hope that the chick has survived.

If fires attack Los Angeles in 2018 it is not going to be 1,000 homes destroyed, it is not going to be 2,000 homes destroyed, … it will be thousands upon thousands of homes destroyed. The homeless count in LA is currently 55,000 (how large is the city you live in?). If, and I pray God this never becomes reality, … if the 2018 fires destroy the San Fernando Valley (one of numerous valleys in the county of Los Angeles) 1.3 million people will become homeless; the threat was ominous in 2017. … Will it become reality in 2018?

Earthquakes? What are they? Fire is the numeral uno enemy to the Golden State.

Oh, I forgot to mention that global warming is little more than fiction. My view on this: Everyone who thinks global warning is little more than a left wing piece of baloney have got their fingers firmly stuffed somewhere.

The year 2017 is one for the California record books

It is official, 2017 has been the hottest year on record for California. It has also been the worst fire year on record, and the Thomas Fire that started in Ventura County (which borders Los Angeles County) and has raged north and into Santa Barbara County is the largest fire in California since they began keeping accurate records in the early 1930s. This fire began on December 4; it was still burning on December 30 (but although it is supposedly 65 percent contained … homes are still threatened).

Something needs to be said about earthquakes

I have lived through the last two major earthquakes in SoCal: 1971 and 1994. I can’t tell you how often I have been quizzed about the horror of an earthquake when outside California. People I have met when giving talks or performances or on research trips are forever interested (some of them are terrified of experiencing one). … Let’s start this conversation with LK isn’t keen on living through a hurricane or a tornado.

I guess it’s all about perspective.

Let’s start with tornados. In 1974 I flew to Missouri to buy a 1951 Hudson Hornet, a great automobile that ruled NASCAR racing during the first half of the 1950s (I even wrote a screenplay about them cleaning up at the racetrack called Hornet; unfortunately my agent couldn’t sell it).

The Missourian picked me up at the airport. After checking out the Hornet and taking it for a test drive I bought the car. Tornado warnings were live on Missouri TV that morning. He and his family didn’t want me to leave. I ate his wife’s homemade ice cream and then allowed the family to show me the house where future U.S. president Harry Truman was born. I am a patient and polite cowboy. During this time I had visions of Judy Garland’s classic film The Wizard of Oz (1939) dancing around in my brain. If you don’t know the film, a tornado transports Judy’s character to the land of Oz. It was 1974 and I was picturing me and the 1951 Hudson Hornet being transported to the land of Oz.* Honestly, this was a living nightmare for me. When the seller’s family finally gave me a tearful goodbye about eight-thirty that morning I pushed the Hornet’s accelerator pad to the floor, … and hightailed it out of Kansas as quickly as I could.

Time is short, and this blog is about four months late. Thus this old collage. This picture of the Hudson that came from Missouri was taken in the still-rural Northridge in the San Fernando Valley. The photo of the Camaro was taken overlooking the Pacific Ocean in northern San Diego County. … BTW, bets were out that I wouldn’t make a wedding in Tucson, Arizona, which was a little over a week after I bought the car. I covered the bets and won.

From left: Hattie McDaniel, OdeH, and Vivian Leigh in Gone with the Wind. Olivia was nominated for a supporting Oscar in this film. She didn’t win. At first she was angry, but later was thrilled for Hattie’s win. I couldn’t agree more with her view. (photo in LK personal collection)

* The Wizard of Oz should have won the Oscar for best film of 1939 (I know, heresy). Gone with the Wind did. I have a large connection with Gone with the Wind due to Ms. Olivia de Havilland. Writing about her connection with this film will take up quite a number of pages in Errol & Olivia, and these words have and will flow speedily forward on the keyboard. Her story here is good stuff. No-no-no; it’s great stuff! All I want to say here is The Wizard of Oz, which took me decades to accept and like, is a great film, while Gone with the Wind, which I’ve hated since the first time I attempted to see it is not. For the record, I have never seen this film completely in one screening (and that includes seeing it in a movie theater; I walked out before falling asleep). I doubt this is a high recommendation.

Let’s get back to earthquakes. On February 8, 1971, I needed a place to sleep. My then girlfriend. Joan McGirr, was living with her father. I parked my motorcycle next to her car in the apartment building’s underground parking lot and slept in it that night.

This image of LK was taken just months before the 9feb1971 earthquake. I’m sitting in my office just north of the apartment building where my then-girlfriend lived with her father. (photo © Louis Kraft 1970)

The next morning I was awake and reading the newspaper in her car when the earthquake struck. I was out of that parking structure in a flash and as far as I could be from the surrounding apartments. In front of me was a large swimming pool with tidal waves pounding the sides. The surrounding complex consisted of three-story apartments. They looked like old-time cartoons as they swayed back and forth in rhythm with the pool’s pounding waves.

The 1994 Northridge earthquake caught me asleep in bed in North Hollywood. It struck about four-thirty in the morning on January 17. Let me say one thing here. When a fairly large earthquake hits there is no guesswork. You know immediately what is happening. Get away from windows and anything that can collapse or fall on you.

Earthquakes don’t last long. One minute, two minutes, maybe three minutes and it’s over. There are after shocks that can go on for days.

Front and center in an unbelievable story

LK image choices are now being selected for Sand Creek and the Tragic
End of a Lifeway, and they will add great value to the book.

Pailin took this photo of me relaxing at home with guests on 13sept2017. This is one of the last images of me as I looked like this. A joke? I wish, but alas, no. (photo © Louis Kraft and Pailin Subanna-Kraft 2017)

I know, I know, I’ve always known (nothing new here). For the record I’m working on the Sand Creek manuscript seven days a week until I deliver a first rough draft to the great editor-in-chief of the University of Oklahoma Press, Chuck Rankin at the end of January. He has always been my friend since we met years back. By that I mean that he has done everything possible to see that my manuscripts saw publication, … and this was long before we signed the Wynkoop contract. Folks, in case you don’t know, OU Press is the largest and best publisher of Indian wars books in the world. In the world! They are my publisher, which makes me one of the luckiest guys in the world.

At times events happen and they affect all of our hearts in different ways. …
31dec2017 was one of those days, but with life there’s always hope.
Pain over the loss of a cherished person is always private. … Life
can be fickle. One day we’re here and healthy, but there is
no guarantee for tomorrow (I’m not talking about me).

A bashed-face and worse … that’s me!!!

Ouch! … for it is worse, and I hate to say it but this is the story of my life.

Christopher Juarez at the central Los Angeles Public Library in downtown on 19nov2017. I cannot begin to tell how much this young man helped me during my two days at the library studying the Nancy Morton microfilm from the Nebraska State Historical Society. (photo © Louis Kraft 2017)

On 11nov2017 I took the subway from the North Hollywood hub (the Red line) to the main LA Public Library. My bad from the beginning, but it was worse than that for good ol’ LK got lost. What should have been three miles of total walking turned into six + miles of walking. Huh??? Take one guess. LK was clueless and got lost. If you know downtown LA there are good places and there are bad places and I got to see all of them, including a male urinating in pure daylight (I know, this is not a major selling point for Los Angeles). When I finally reached the library I was in for a shock. It was November 11—Hello cowboy! … Veteran’s Day—and the library had shut down Friday, the 10th, through Sunday, the 12th, for the Veteran’s Day weekend. What can I say other than keep your views to yourself. That’s right, I don’t want to hear them.

My day excursion, which began at nine in the morning ended at 12:25 in the afternoon with roughly two and a half hours spent as LK walked as fast as he could. Again, and by my calculations, it was over six miles. … You do not want to know what my feet felt like that afternoon, for all you’ll get from me is a bunch of XXXs and !!!s.

See below for the continuation of this story. …

The creation of history

If I chose to list all the historians who have shaped history in their image you would be shocked. I know a very good Indian wars historian who once told me that he wanted to turn history upside down. Say what? Basically this person wanted to push Indian wars history to the extreme.

That’s right, and more often than you would ever guess historians do this. Facts don’t drive what they write, sensationalization does. Most of the time they choose people who are no longer with us as you can’t be charged with defaming the dead in the USA. This is not hard to do when you write about the American Indian wars or the Golden Age of the Cinema.

LK at Tujunga House on 5mar2017. (photo © Louis Kraft 2017)

This blog, as most in the near future, features events that led to the attack by Colorado Volunteers on people who thought that they were under the protection of the U.S. military on 29nov1864.

For the record I’ve been giving talks based upon reality for thirty years, since 1987. These are talks wherein I know my subject matter and I don’t read. At the moment I’m on self-imposed sabbatical. The reason is simple: I have a book to complete that is of major importance to me.

Believe it or not, I have been persona non-grata for more years than I’d like to count. You do not want to know about people who turn their back to me when I walk past them. What’s their problem? Hell, I don’t know. I’ll say this, they ain’t my friends.

Barbara Hershey and a film I like

What can I say about Ms. Hershey other than I’d like to know her well enough that we could share our views on the world, living, and creativity. Given decent parts in film or class TV productions she has time and again proven how good of an actress she is.

Last of the Dogmen

Barbara Hershey played an anthropologist whose expertise was the Cheyenne Indians in Last of the Dogmen (Savoy Pictures, 1995). In this film, which always makes my top 50 (now 60) film list had a great quote that Barbara said. But first she had to deal with a modern-day bounty hunter played by Tom Berenger.

As stated some of Barbara Hershey’s performances are top-notch, and certainly  in Last of the Dogmen and Defenseless. Also she is someone that I wish I knew. This, in the Kraft world, is a high recommendation for more reasons than one. (photo in LK collection)

Berenger had found evidence that points to Cheyenne Indians from a time long gone killing escaped criminals, and he’s trying to learn if people from the mid-nineteenth century could have survived undiscovered into the mid-1990s. Hershey finds his quest ludicrous. And it is, but it opens a door to explore race relations between people from a time dear to my heart with those living in the mid-1990s. From the get-go the film is fantasy for the simple reason that there were few Cheyenne Dog Men (whites called them Dog Soldiers) at the November 29, 1864, massacre of Cheyenne and Arapaho Indians on Sand Creek, Colorado Territory, an attack that saw children used for target practice, an unborn child cut from its dead mother’s womb and scalped, … it gets worse, much-much worse. … Before the story can take off Hershey gives Berenger a history lesson on the Cheyennes along with their struggle to retain their freedom, land, and lifeway before again making it clear that Dog Men could not and did not murder the escaped convicts as there were no “Dog Men” from the 1860s living as they had in 1864 in modern times. Lordy-lordy, you have got to love this premise as it is a good one. Barbara’s quote in the film was great, but you’re not going to read these words in this blog. See the film, … and when Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway is published read the book. Here’s a big hint: Barbara’s quote is the final two sentences in the book.

Sand Creek players have been pounded time and again …

Certainly Ned Wynkoop has been labeled a “traitor” to his race, and an Indian-lover. This pounding centers on his acting without orders (not cool when you are in the military) to save white prisoners and bring seven Cheyenne and Arapaho chiefs to Denver to discuss ending the 1864 Cheyenne war with John Evans, the second territorial governor of Colorado. One premise holds that the massacre at Sand Creek would have never happened if he had not done this.

LK as Ned Wynkoop in an one-man show seeing the sexually dismembered bodies of the Southern Cheyennes months after the butchery at Sand Creek on 29nov1864. (photo: Johnny D. Boggs during a dress rehearsal for performances at a Washita Battlefield National Historic Site symposium in 2008).

Really? All I’ll say here is that illogic follows and stampedes its way into the foreground.

This isn’t worth talking about, other than to say there were many participants in the events that led up to the attack on a Cheyenne and Arapaho village on Sand Creek in November 1864. It was not just one player, it was a combination of multiple players and all their actions. People make choices. You make choices; I make choices. So did Evans, Wynkoop, Colonel John Chivington, Cheyenne Chief Black Kettle, Arapaho Chief Left Hand, and on and on.

The tragedy of Sand Creek is much more than an officer (Wynkoop) acting without orders to rescue four white children and bring seven Indian leaders to Denver to discuss ending a war. If illogical thinking rules the day, why not say that the Sand Creek village was “easy prey,” like some of those hunting estates where macho men with big guns can hunt big game that can’t escape as they are trapped within the preserve?

These people had their vaginas cut out, their penises hacked off. Their children had their skulls bashed in. The term “war crime,” didn’t exist in 1864, but it does now. What happened in 1864 was a war crime regardless of what it might have been called then. Pure and simple. You do this today, and you happen to be an American soldier, you will be tried for war crimes. … I’m not certain when this came to pass but it was certainly in place at the end of World War II when Nazis were charged with heinous crimes of genocide against the Jewish people. BTW, “genocide” became a word in 1945.

These crimes live into the twenty-first century when on March 12, 2006, an American soldier (Specialist James Barker) raped and murdered a fourteen-year-old Iraqi girl, Abeer Qassim al-Janabi. He and five soldiers with him then murdered her father, mother, and six-year-old sister in Mahmoudiya, twenty miles south of Baghdad. They burned the bodies in an attempt to cover up their crime.

… and the Cheyennes?

For starters there were a number of Southern Cheyenne bands trusting Chief Black Kettle’s efforts to remove them from the on-going war. Unfortunately their approximate location was known, making them an easy target. Chivington’s goal was never to fight Cheyenne Dog Men and Lakotas who rode the war trail farther north. Instead, he wanted a target that never expected to be attacked. That’s right, he wanted “easy prey.” Chivington would claim a lopsided victory with a huge death count that perhaps exceeded the total number of people that could have possibly been living in this Sand Creek village, and for a short time became a great Indian fighter.

From left: Leo Oliva, LK, and Fort Larned Chief Historian George Elmore. We are walking the on the parade ground, and we are heading toward the building that Wynkoop rented for his headquarters when he was a U.S. Indian agent, which was just outside the perimeter of the post. Good friends Leo and George have helped me oh-so many times over the years. Both have been instrumental in getting me to Kansas time and again to speak and perform, as well as aiding my research. … I can’t begin to tell you how much George has aided my Sand Creek research. This photo was taken on 20sept2012. Two days later Leo and I spoke on the now protected Cheyenne-Dog Man-Lakota village that Major General Winfield Hancock destroyed in April 1867. … This part of Kansas is in my blood. It is one of my homes away from home.

What can I say. My Sand Creek proposal was 37 pages long. I presented a detailed outline of what I thought the final manuscript should include. It also stated that nothing was set in stone, that my research would define the flow of the manuscript. … Boy, is this a true statement.

Actually Chivington is going to have a smaller role than planned. Such is life. This said, his impact on the story is huge.

On 24apr1999 Cheyenne Peace Chiefs Gordon Yellowman (kneeling) and Lawrence Hart (standing right-center) blessed the Pawnee Fork village site. The lady with the robe wrapped around her is Connie Yellowman, Gordon’s wife. This was the first time that I spoke at Fort Larned. That’s George Elmore in the sergeant’s uniform at the left of the image. (photo © Louis Kraft 1999)

Fort Larned plays an important role in the Sand Creek story. Black Kettle, Neva, Left Hand, Little Raven, William Bent, George Bent, John Smith, and Wynkoop all spent time there. The destruction of the Pawnee Fork village (about 35 miles west of the post) was a continuation of what began in the early 1860s.

Territorial governor John Evans has been pounded

But should he have been? I’m not so sure, and although I hate to admit this, I don’t totally agree with the University of Denver’s study of Evans, and his part in the disaster. Still, they uncovered key information regarding the governor ducking the issue while in Washington D.C., and he didn’t return to Denver until spring 1865.

As I didn’t use an image of John Evans in the Wynkoop book, and have not decided what image(s) of him that I’m going to use in Sand Creek, this color portrait of Black Kettle is good here. The chief and the governor met at Camp Weld on 28sept1864, and both walked away from that meeting with totally different views upon what had been decided. For all the chief’s efforts to avoid or end war he has been pounded as hard as the governor. (art © Louis Kraft 2015)

Let’s be up front, some of John Evans’ words and actions led to his downfall (which has been frighteningly similar to the racist backlash we have seen against the Southern states fight to remove themselves from the United States of America in the 1860s. Yikes!!!! How can the USA banish and remove one of the most important pieces of our history, the war between the states? Without a doubt slavery was (and is) heinous, and it has always been so. Owning another human being and playing god with his or her life is evil (but I’m talking from a modern POV). Times have changed in regards to racism for the better, but from what we have seen in 2017 we still have a long way to go.

Some of Evans’ proclamations are damaging. However, his attempts to avoid or end war were something he tried to do. More important, he left for the east on November 10, that was nineteen days prior to Chivington’s massacre of men, women, and children, and he didn’t learn of the battle until days afterwards. Evans wanted war and wanted the Cheyennes and Arapahos removed from the territory but he had no clue that this would happen to the people who tried to end the war.

Art of Mr. Carson dating to about 1845. (LK personal collection)

Evans’ fall from grace is similar to Kit Carson’s. … Folks, Kit was a good friend to the American Indians. He spoke seven languages: English, Spanish, and five native languages. If he were the butcher that modern times attempts to label him, why would he speak (at least partially) the words of the Navajos, Mescalero Apaches, Cheyennes, Arapahos, and Utes? Oh, I forgot to mention that he had three wives: Arapaho, Cheyenne, and a Latina of Spanish decent. One more fact, he converted to Catholicism to marry his Spanish wife. Does this sound like a racist? I think not. … Pray God I live long enough to complete two books that deal with Carson and his relationship with American Indians. … One fiction; one nonfiction.

John Evans has become an evil person. … Really? Guess what? John Evans was a human being who thought he was doing right when he did it. I’m not going to tell you that he was a good person or an evil one. If I do my job his words and actions will allow you to make your own decision of who he was.

Ditto everyone else, and this includes John Chivington. BTW, he will be the last piece of the manuscript to be completed. Oh, he has a presence now, but it is not close to being finished. Like Evans and everyone else, it is my job is to show what he said and what he did. There is nothing worse than an author (history or fiction, it matters not) who has a preconceived premise on an historical personage and will stay the course regardless of how much discovery disproves their premise. God forbid they shy away from their damnation of a human being because they see facts that shoots arrows into their task of destroying a person’s life. And especially people who are gone and cannot defend themselves. Yep, folks you can defame the dead in the USA (but be careful if you attempt to defame the living, for then you might set yourself up to join the homeless wandering the streets of LA).

Back to the reality of our times

Is it ethical to sell out truth for greater book sales? Honestly, you don’t want to know my opinion on this. Many writers have done this over the years, and it isn’t confined to the Indian wars. The most infamous—in my opinion—was Charles Higham. Higham, a film biographer, printed despicable lies about two of his subjects (see below), for the simple reason that he wanted to sell books. Other biographers and historians in modern times have mimicked Higham’s practice of creating false facts that bleed red for the same reason, to pocket as many greenbacks as possible. There’s one difference, these hacks of recent times (that is post 1980) stoop so low with their fictional creations that they are little more than cockroaches that run rampant in their readers’ minds as they spread filth that has no basis in reality.

In his 1980 best-selling piece of slop called Errol Flynn: The Untold Story, without proof Higham wrote that Flynn was both homosexual and a Nazi spy. Over the years real historians have debunked all of Higham’s falsehoods. Still the general public, if they remember anything about Flynn, it is that he was homosexual Nazi spy. Hell, the media still sells this as there is nothing better than trashing a star’s name for the simple reason that the public gobbles it up. As said above there is no punishment for defaming the dead in the USA. Not so in Canada; Higham’s book was also published in the land of our neighbors to the north. Flynn’s daughters Deidre and Rory went after Higham in Canada. To avoid going to court and potential prosecution Higham never set foot in Canada for the rest of his life. … I can’t speak about Higham’s other film biographies save one—Sisters: The Story of Olivia de Havilland and Joan Fontaine (1984). I presented Olivia with a lot of questions about this book in letters and in person. Olivia made one reply in writing in which she dismissed Higham with three words (and none were profane). In person the only thing she said about him and his book on her and Joan was that he never contacted her, never asked her one question.

Was Higham a charlatan? Are other historians charlatans? I believe in challenging history. I also believe that it must be done ethically and not by presenting outrageous statements that are fiction-based on preconceived premises with the lone goal of destruction.

Another story

He was flesh and blood, had a deep baritone voice, was a college professor, had lived through the revolution of the 1960s, had evolved into the 1970s, and when I met him in the 1980s he had fine-tuned his persona. Oh, I forgot, he was also a writer. Charm oozed from him. He instantly became a friend (think 1989 in San Diego).

Years passed. It was now 1995 and we were at the Western Writers of America (WWA) convention in Cheyenne, Wyoming (I’m foggy on the location but think the timing was with the publication of Custer and the Cheyenne).

I’m going to pull from a major lesson I learned from Errol Flynn’s magnificent memoir, My Wicked, Wicked Ways, which was published shortly after his death in 1959. Mainly, that at times one must remain vague to protect friends, former lovers, and yours truly. I hope that what I share here is okay. I’m back to the writer that evolved from 1960s to the 1980s. He was working on a book wherein he claimed his subject—Billy the Kid—outlived his death by decades. “Do you believe he wasn’t murdered?” I asked. He honestly replied that he did believe that the Kid was murdered. “Why are you writing this manuscript?” He again honestly answered that it would sell books. This author’s name was W. C. Jameson.

Kudos to him for his honesty. At the same time his words now mimic the truth of today’s world. If the truth gets in the way of your preconceived premise, dismiss it. If someone confronts you on your lie, one-up them and call them “little Billy,” or “bullshitting Johnny,” or “sex stalker Alex,” or “lying Donald.” The new key words here are: “Fake News.” Point your finger at them, scream, and if possible see that your hateful rants explode all over social media.

Luckily for me the Dennis the Menace cartoons continue to live in the Los Angeles Times (this cartoon appeared in the 22nov17 edition of the paper). Although cartoonist Hank Ketcham is long gone, his wonderful creation continues to live at dennisthemeance.com and in various newspapers. The North America Synd. holds the 2017 copyright.

Good Lord, is this really today’s world? If yes, I need say no more.

The struggle to bring the Tsistsistas (Cheyennes) into their new world

Ladies and gents, separating myth and fiction from fact is an hellacious task, and one I’ve struggled with for years now. Also, unfortunately, no one is ever going to get all the facts straight. It is an impossible task.

Believe it or not the Cheyennes have been mostly painted as villains throughout their history. Their views and their facts have been almost totally ignored as little more than lies. There’s an adage, and it is that the conqueror writes the history books. … The vanquished are savages or worse and the winners are heroes who have saved mankind.

… and this includes some mixed-blood Cheyennes

I’ll mention two here: Julia Bent and her step brother Charles (Charley) Bent. Their father was trader William Bent, who plays a fairly large role in my Sand Creek manuscript, but surprisingly wasn’t as I expected him to be (this statement should have a few exclamation points as the William Bent I now know is not the William Bent I thought I knew). … I can’t begin to tell how many hours I’ve spent on Julia and Charley. I know them somewhat, but I wish more. She is little more than a beautiful image that appears and disappears during the tumultuous times of the 1860s while Charles has been pounded to hell as little more than a vicious killer.

George Bent was Julia’s older brother and Charley’s older step-brother. He lived well into the twentieth century and left a wealth of information for anyone willing to dig into and understand, and by that I mean cross-reference and closely check what he wrote.

If you believe just half of the recordings of supposed Cheyenne raids between 1864 and 1867, Charley Bent was named way-too-many times as a traitorous leader of perhaps thirty percent of these raids, and yet when he died he had not yet reached his twentieth year, and this is an easy fact to prove regardless of David Lavender’s fanciful words without a drop of proof in Bent’s Fort (1954) or Halaas & Masich’s tons of research citations in Halfbreed (2004), which simply muddies the water while providing little support for important text in their biography of George Bent.

I don’t have much on either Julia or Charles, but what I do have will be in the book for both were exceptional young people during a time of death and destruction. I won’t come close to sharing who they really were, but I will present them to you in an honest way while at the same time destroying some of the undocumented baloney that has been printed and reprinted about them ad nauseam.

There is Sand Creek Massacre research coming that will open some eyes

The misinformation and out-and-out fabrications of reality in the Sand Creek story is mind-boggling. These ongoing fabrications range from Laura Roper becoming Black Kettle’s sexual object to Isabelle Eubanks being five when the Cheyennes gave her to Wynkoop on September 12, 1864 (a date that is erroneously documented easily sixty percent of the time).

A wonderful research surprise in Downtown LA

A young wife was captured one day after the Cheyenne raid that captured Isabelle, her mother, younger brother, a relative, and Laura Roper. This young woman, like those taken with Isabelle, also plays a key if small role in the story. I had seen most if not all of the published documentation about her. Her name was Nancy Morton. During an horrendous string of a few days mostly along the Platte River Route she, along with many other whites, survived while seeing her family murdered and hacked to pieces. Traveling settlers, ranchers, station employees were attacked, many murdered, while a small number of whites were taken prisoner. There is an old cliché, “Save the last bullet for yourself,” as death or captivity by Indians was not something anyone wanted to experience. … Nancy and a boy named Daniel Marble survived the attack on their wagon train.

I have spent a lot of good time with Marty Vestecka Miller, of the Nebraska State Historical Society, who secured the interlibrary loan of a microfilm reel on Nancy Morton for me. As the only library in the 100-library system of Los Angeles that still had microfilm readers that could also print was the central library in downtown Los Angeles I had to set up the loan there as the microfilm could not leave the library.

The west entry to the Central LA Public Library in downtown Los Angeles on 18nov2017. The library is a treasure, both inside and outside. (photo © Louis Kraft 2017)

On November 18 I got wise and looked at a map of the subway exit and the downtown library. They looked shockingly close to each other. On this day I used the Hope Street exit from the subway, looked to my left and could see the library two and a half blocks distant. On this day I worked closely with Christopher Juarez (pictured above), who not only got me set up on the microfilm machine but made me aware that I didn’t have to pay for printouts of the pages, but could scan them and email them to myself free of charge. Folks, when you are looking at over 250 images this is a pretty cool savings. Christopher worked closely with me on this day and then the next day as he ensured that I obtained every image that I needed. I have nothing but kudos to say about Christopher. The city of Los Angeles should give this young man a pay raise, and I’m not joking here. Los Angeles is lucky to employ him. Good work needs to be rewarded. Mayor Eric Garcetti, if you see this post or if you hear of this post, know one thing: Christopher Juarez is an extraordinary employee and the city is lucky to have him.

LK’s workstation at the Central Los Angeles Public Library in the History Department on 19nov2017. Cool times for LK. (photo ©  Louis Kraft 2017)

The people of Sand Creek

The major players range from the second territorial governor of Colorado Territory, the chief editor and co-partner of the most successful newspaper in Denver during the 1860s and beyond, the commanding colonel of the District of Colorado, the official U.S. interpreter for all four major treaties with the Cheyenne Indians between 1851 and 1867, a major partner of the most successful trading post who married into the Cheyenne tribe, one of his mixed-blood sons, and the one man who dared to act for he thought was for the good of mankind and has since been termed a traitor to his own race. They were ambitious, had views of success in their dreams, but like you and I had to survive in a world beyond their control.

I know. Where’s Cheyennes Black Kettle, Lean Bear, or Bull Bear; and Arapahos Left Hand, Neva, and Little Raven? Trust me, for they are a comin’ to life, … I want them to be surprises; I want them to explode off the pages. Actually Black Kettle and Little Raven will surprise you, but unfortunately I simply don’t have enough on the others to allow them to also dominate. Still Left Hand was a person I wish I could have known in life.

More important, and like most of us, they thought that what they did was right when they did it. … What I’ve learned is not what I wanted to know. I’m writing the manuscript as a biography through the eyes of (currently) nine people. I’m doing everything I can to be in their point-of-view (POV), a film term.

This is my lady, Pailin, on the bluffs to the west of the 1864 Sand Creek battlefield. Our terrific friends John and Linda Monnett took us to the isolated site in 2014. You want to read good history pick up some of John’s books that deal with the Cheyennes. … Pailin and I are totally different in all phases of our lives, and yet she supports everything that I do. I pray to my God that I am capable of supporting everything that she does. Life and love is a two-way street. You won’t believe what is in our future. (photo © Louis Kraft & Palin Subanna-Kraft 2014)

Where the hell am I? Simply, I’m treading water in the middle of pure hell. Does this sound negative? Probably, but it shouldn’t be as I’m inching closer to completing perhaps the most important manuscript of my life. If true, I must see Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway through to print. Folks, I can’t see this happening before 2019. This means I need to live another two years. Doable? I think so, … I hope so. Time will tell.

This is the OU Press dust jacket for the Wynkoop book; I’ve had some great covers over the years but this jacket is by far my favorite. It was an image that I requested, and the art director turned it into a terrific duotone.

Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway has 37 contracted images. Three will be maps; that leaves 34 photos or art. Good times for LK to fill in the blanks. At this moment I have chosen 16 (as I don’t own the rights to all these images the process to purchase and determine the use fees is under way. Actually several have already been procured, and all that needs to happen is working out the publishing details and paying the use fees. I hate to say it but at this point in time I must become secretive. Of the 16 I’ve previously used six of them. This is more than I hoped to use, but the images that will again be used are mandatory to telling the story of the events that led up to the Sand Creek attack and its aftermath.

For the record Chuck Rankin had requested I place as many women in the manuscript as possible. My research leading to the creation of the proposal and its acceptance was less than sparkling, meaning that there were no women who would be in the manuscript. Over the last three years of research this view has changed. I mentioned a couple of young ladies above. This is, for me, great news. Hopefully they will come to life when the book is published, even if their presence is small, for they are oh-so important to the Sand Creek story.

A small repetition

My Sand Creek proposal was a very-detailed thirty-seven pages, but it also included a “get out of jail” pass. This simply means that as a writer-historian I track all the usual suspects and try to follow where the trail leads. That is, the documentable facts. Actions and words define character. My job is not to create villains and heroes; rather it is to present people to you. If I do my job correctly you will make your own decisions of who they were and what happened.

As said above, this is a seven-day-a-week job. I’m up between four and four-thirty and often don’t get to bed until nine, ten, or later. … You guessed it. Sometimes I have to crash. But even on these days I must research and/or add word count.

I love what I do.

An Errol Flynn tidbit

I want to go off course here while still tiptoeing the straight and narrow. Thank you, Mr. Flynn. I’m not being sarcastic here, for Flynn’s My Wicked, Wicked Ways is the best book that I’ve ever read. His book dealt with time and memory, it dealt with good and bad, success and failure, and protecting the innocent in more ways than one (for example: Not saying much about a person or event, changing a key fact or two, or names of people that Mr. Flynn did not want to hurt, or perhaps because he did not want to be hurt). But sometimes it also included that his memory failed him, or worse a publisher changed facts or names.

The Flynn photo used on the dust jacket for the first printing of My Wicked, Wicked Ways. (photo © Esquire, Inc. 1958)

For the record, a successful writer named Earl Conrad was hired by Flynn’s publisher (G.P. Putnam’s Sons) to spend time with him at his home in Jamaica. Flynn had received a good advance to write his memoir, but he was almost at the end of his time on earth, was having trouble completing the manuscript, and needed help. Flynn was self taught, literate, and well published. He always had a story to tell, forever stood firm for what he believed, and never shied away from anything in his life. Without checking, and perhaps it is in Conrad’s memoir of his time with Flynn or in Thomas McNulty’s Errol Flynn: The Life and Career (by far the best biography on Flynn), but I think Flynn shared about 200,000 words during a handful of weeks with his guest Conrad. Flynn would see and sign-off on the galleys of his memoir but then died before seeing his last book published. (I’ll deal with this in my third book on Flynn; perhaps my second if I get lucky and something I want to do happens.)

My friends, … those of you who fear that I’ll never complete the first book
on Errol Flynn (and Olivia de Havilland), relax, for that book is closer
to publication than you think. Moreover, the two other planned
books on Mr. Flynn will happen. The second or third
books—there is no order here—will blow you
away in many ways.

Closing thoughts

There are pieces of my life, and luckily they didn’t deal with life and death on a major scale or decisions that would affect hundreds and thousands of people. Luckily I’ve lived in the shadows of time. Honestly, I think that this is a better place to be … for if I lived in earlier times when I would have had a target on my back as I would not have stepped in line and said, “Yes sir!” Luckily I didn’t live in the 1860s, for if I had, I’m certain that I would have been murdered on the streets of Denver as Captain Silas Soule was.

Still things have happened and they have affected my life in more ways than I’ll ever admit. During those times I wasn’t smiling. Looking back I can’t stop chuckling.

The little angel sitting on my right shoulder just whacked me in the face. The little devil sitting on my left shoulder simply snickered and said, “You wimp, you deserved that!”

What it all comes down to is life—my life.
My view is simply that you and I have different views of
our lives. … I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Sand Creek Massacre, Errol & Olivia, Louis Kraft, and a perfect storm

Website & blogs © Louis Kraft 2013-2020

Contact Kraft at writerkraft@gmail.com or comment at the end of the blogs


Rod Taylor, Michael Parks, Sam Shepard. OUCH!
Three actors who have played roles in my life are
all gone in one godawful 2017.
Who’s next? Me?

Parks* and Taylor have been favorite actors since I discovered them, and this has continued throughout my life even though some of their films and appearances on TV weren’t in top-notch productions.

In LK personal collection.

Still, fully ninety percent of their performances that I saw shined.

Michael Parks also has the distinction of being my favorite singer of all time.

* Kevin Smith directed Red State (2011), a film in which Michael Parks delivered one of my favorite performances of all time. If you don’t know anything about Parks see Kevin Smith’s memory of Michael Parks. Warning: There are some foul words, but the interview is from the heart of a director who viewed Michael Parks as a good person and an acting genius—something I agree with. Better, Parks’ performance shows how a person can play evil on screen while being charming, charismatic, and certain that everything he does is absolutely for the good when he does it.

I haven’t seen all that many of Shepard’s films and I don’t think I’ve seen any of his TV work. Still he always adds intense credibility to every performance that I’ve seen.**

** All three have films on my top 60 film list.

**********

Time moves forward at lightening speed, and as the years have passed I have had a few-too-many encounters with the grim reaper.

As the body grows frailer, and as it is harder and harder to swing a blade with deadly intent I have come to cherish life. Shockingly, this is new to me as I have always been “charge forward with guns blazing.”

Two projects that are a long time coming

  • Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway
    I plan on delivering a first rough draft to my editor, Chuck Rankin (OU Press), in December or January 2018, and the final draft in 2019.
  • Errol & Olivia
    Research is continuous, and every so often when I have a few spare minutes I open the draft and add information. Right now I’m trying to confirm if Flynn’s first wife, Lili Damita, earlier had married the great film director Michael Curtiz or not. This must be confirmed without a doubt.

Below is an update on both.

Wandering through a life rife with change

High school friend Dennis Riley, then a photographer’s mate in the U.S. Navy, took this image a few days after my last final at SFVSC (now CSUN) in June 1969. That day was my first acting publicity shoot, and this image represented how I often dressed while earning my BA. I had picked up the god-awful nickname of “Tex” in college as I often wore a cowboy hat. “Tex”? Yee-ough! (a sound; not a word) (photo © Louis Kraft 1969)

I’ve been walking between the races since 1970 (but really it had been earlier as my parents had an open door policy no matter what a person’s race was). That year I joined Volunteers in Service to America (VISTA), which is/was like a continental Peace Corps. I had wanted to work with American Indians (even at that age), and the two other possibilities were African Americans (Blacks back then) and Latinos (Chicanos then). There was a lot of training at the University of Texas in Austin, … and afterwards we—the other candidates and I—partied. Big time. We were housed in tall a dorm (ladies on one floor and guys on another), and the celebrations went deep into the night in various dormitory rooms (two rooms that shared a bathroom).

One night in the wee hours I said something to a married couple that they enjoyed but a Chicano who would eventually select people to work with Latinos didn’t like. Suddenly I had a knife at my throat as he grabbed me from behind. I was scared to death but had my wits and kept calm. In between his bursts of rage I pointed out that he had fifteen and perhaps twenty witnesses. Did he intend to kill them too? I also pointed out that if he killed me his cause was DOA (dead on arrival).

He let go of me, and let me tell you that I was one happy cowboy to see the sun rise that morning. Surprisingly at breakfast, which began at six, I had become a celebrity. This was stupid, and I hated it. From my view I was damned lucky to be alive. … A few weeks later the American Indian, Black, and Chicano group leaders chose their candidates a la choosing a sandlot football team. I was chosen early by a Black group from Oklahoma. A week of living with a Black family in Sapulpa (Oklahoma), more training in Austin, back to Sapulpa, and back to Texas before being assigned to Oklahoma City. My supervisor in OK City, Cheetah Gates, told me to ditch the cowboy boots when he saw them. I asked why. “The brothers don’t like cowboys,” he said. “If you want to live don’t wear the boots.” I took him at his word.

During the summer of 1976 girlfriend Kitty Moore (and she was one of the most gorgeous ladies I’ve ever known) was playing one of the leads in a Texas Tech theater department play (Lubbock, Texas). She was about to begin her junior year in college. … What I saw that summer was an eye opener. Lubbock was a mass of racial inequality and hatred, it struggled with what appeared to be a drug culture that grew by the day, and a theater department that was split by two different cliques. Some of my not so-good  experiences in Lubbock initiated the writing of my first screenplay, and surprisingly it landed me my first screenwriting agent. I based the female lead on what I viewed as the essence of who Kitty Moore was (she eventually read a draft of Laird Francis and liked it). … All I can say about Kitty is that she was an exceptional human being and that I was lucky to have known her. I wish that our relationship could have continued. It couldn’t, and all I have are my memories.

This was just the beginning. By the mid-1970s I was writing screenplays and a number of them dealt was race (this came about after a summer of dinner theater in Lubbock, Texas, a place I was lucky to put in my rearview mirror without being tarred and feathered as racism in the city and factionalism in the Texas Tech theater department was rampant at that time). Most of my screen plays were current day, or at least historically based in the 1970s. The two exceptions included 1) Wonderboat, an epic tragedy that dealt with U-boats during WWII, and 2) Corsair, which dealt with the Englishman John Ward who became a feared Tunis pirate during the early seventeenth century.* By the mid-1980s I was writing and selling baseball articles, but soon changed focus to the American Indian wars (writing for periodicals and speaking at symposiums).

* Drafts of my screenplays are housed in the Louis Kraft Collection at the Fray Angélico Chávez History Library (Museum of New Mexico, Santa Fe). For more information about Wonderboat see Louis Kraft’s top 13 Errol Flynn films … a personal view.

In 1999 I wrote for a space industry firm that had one customer: Hughes. My major deliveries usually consisted of about 1,000 pages of documentation (and you would choke if I told you what Hughes paid for it). My editor worked in the company’s headquarters in Herndon, Virginia, as did my manager. Most of the documentation department was in Herndon except for one writer in Colorado, one in Northern California, and yours truly in the South Bay of Los Angeles County. That summer all of us attended week-long (wrapped between two weekends) demonstrations at headquarters that dealt with using code-based software to create documentation that could be delivered to multiple types of output while discussing the difficulty of such a massive change while still making our deliveries on deadline.*

* This didn’t happen during my time in the space industry, but I later experienced moving from WYSIWYG (“what you see is what you get”) book design to code-based production tools that could deliver documentation in various formats at the now defunct Sun Microsystems and later at Oracle.

The editor and I had a great long-distance working relationship before my nine days in Herndon. During the evenings after code-based software demos she became my tour guide, dinner companion, and more. On one day when we got off early she drove me to Leesburg where I spent time with Wild West editor Greg Lalire at Primedia’s headquarters (they then published a great grouping of about 12 history magazines). Greg and I have been friends for decades.

This editor, Jeanne Dodge-Allen, played an important part in my life—ranging from friend, lover, and a nightmare beyond belief. If I ever write my memoir she’ll be in it.

While Primedia’s headquarters I verbally pitched and sold an article on Ned Wynkoop and the Cheyennes to the then editor of MHQ: The Quarterly Journal of Military History (it was published as “Between the Army and the Cheyennes” in the Winter 2002 issue).

Being so close to Washington D.C. I had negotiated remaining in the lodging provided for me over the weekend and not flying home until Sunday. That Saturday Jeanne and I took the subway system from Herndon to the National Archives in Washington, D.C., and we worked together on Indian wars research. She was petite while perfectly formed, with a great mind that connected with mine, but also soft and caring. Everything seemed perfect. I thought. Unfortunately she had a dual-personality that I didn’t know about until later. She had told me about the “good ol’ boys” at headquarters, and what they were supposedly doing to her. The truth? What she told me, even if only partially true, was horrifying. I’ll never know. Shortly after I flew back to Los Angeles I became one of the “good ol’ boys.” I think that this was all in her head, but that doesn’t matter. She began calling my home phone but her voice was no longer soft and friendly. It had turned demonic and threatening. Eventually I received and unmarked package. Inside was an oversized mailing envelope with one word written on it in bold red ink: SHAME (there was long dark hair inside the envelope).

Creepy. I kept it for DNA evidence.

My father Louis Sr. (left), brother Lee, and me. I’m on a 1970 Triumph Trophy 500. The bike survived both accidents described below, although the collision with the girl that outweighed me turned me into a gimp for a couple of months and the Triumph required a lot of work to fix. For the record I was wearing a helmet during both crashes. (photo © Louis Kraft, 1972)

While racing around turns on a narrow mountain dirt trail, the motorcycle in front of me suddenly stopped when the path ended. To avoid ramming the motorcyclist I attempted to slide around him as I braked. I almost pulled it off, but instead took my Triumph over a cliff. On another occasion an oversized girl who was running hit me broadside as I exited a driveway at low speed. My hand jerked the accelerator, the Triumph shot into the street, jumped a curb, and left me knocked out and hanging from a chainlink fence. Car wise, the worse was hitting the center divider of the CA 134 freeway headfirst at high speed, the car spun and took out the left side on the center divider, spun in the opposite direction and destroyed the rear end, and this is where the car stopped. Shockingly I walked away from the crash (what helped was that it was two days before Christmas 2010 and traffic was light).

Being vague has become a way of life to protect numero uno—yours truly

LK and Pailin on 2sept2016. It was just minutes before I would be prepped for throat surgery. (photo by Pailin Subanna-Kraft and © Pailin Subanna-Kraft & Louis Kraft 2016)

I’ve been coy, or rather vague, elsewhere on social media. That’s just me, but the horror of an end stares me in the face, and for multiple reasons. … I have three ladies to protect, three lives to see long into their futures. You know one of the ladies but the other two will remain unknown. I also have multiple books to complete. This is a massive task but I have every intention of completing it. Unfortunately there are pointers that hint that the future may not be as I envision it.

Actually I’m staring at something that I cannot possibly complete today as the story is ongoing and without end (unless …?). This leads me to a place that I have ignored, been vague, or worse I have refused to discuss. I’m going to try and do that in this blog, and hopefully with a minimal number of words while still talking about Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway and Errol & Olivia status.

LK joking while waiting to be prepped for throat surgery on 2sept2016. I was relaxed and enjoying myself. (photo © Pailin Subanna-Kraft & Louis Kraft 2016)

In September 2016 I had my second operation that year (both were in my ear, nose, and throat specialist’s surgery center in Northridge, California). It was the twentieth surgery to date and was a throat operation (in April I had my second sinus surgery there). As advertised it would improve my breathing. Surprisingly, or perhaps not so surprising as I had been warned that the recovery would not be fun, it easily took two weeks of pure hell as the drugs to mellow the pain flat out didn’t work.

Two previous operations had eliminated cancer, and if they had not happened I would have long ago begun dancing with angels. One removed a portion of my spine, and if this didn’t happen I would have stopped walking fourteen years ago. … I have other problems now, for earlier this year breathing again reared its ugly head, but this time he brought his pals with him. Walking had been making great strides between late September 2016 and the beginning of June 2017 as I averaged fourteen miles per week. … The phrase, “all things must pass,” has been around forever, but for me this couldn’t happen soon enough as it began to get scary in mid-spring 2017. By this time isolated incidents slowly began to become ongoing events to the point of concern. Worse, I hadn’t been able to figure out why this was happening and neither could my specialists.

I know … still vague! Sorry, but I have to ease into this.

I’m a fighter. I have three aforementioned ladies to protect,
I have books to write, and I have every intention of willing myself to do this.

A quest for truth

Many books contain errors that have been perpetrated for decades or longer. Sometimes this is because the “so-called” fact has been printed so often that it is accepted as truth. Other times it is because of laziness, or worse because it propels a writer’s story forward even though he or she knows that the fact is fictitious. This leads directly to writers who ignore proven facts simply because it blows holes in their set-in-stone premise. And it gets worse than this, for sometimes writers create facts and quotations and cite obscure material figuring that most readers don’t have the source, and the handful that might have the documentation won’t bother to check the citation. … The above is a mouthful, but not my point. Like medicine, history is not an exact methodology and the reason has always been in place. Simply stated, if five people participate in a specific event there is a good chance that their views on what happened differ. Sometimes slightly but at times considerably. Occasionally a known fact can confirm truth in a documented event while at other times deciding upon what really happened is not an easy task.

A couple examples follow:

LK speaking about Errol Flynn, Olivia Havilland, and the Santa Fe Trail (1940) at the Festival of the West, Scottsdale, Arizona, on 19mar2005. (photo by Johnny D. Boggs)

Olivia de Havilland is a good case in point. Fortunate enough to spend time with her I know firsthand that she is a warm, kind, and caring person. She is also charming and very intelligent, and can easily shift from topic to topic without hesitation, such as moving from being cast in Gone with the Wind to Jack Warner to modern-day USA politics. To be precise she specifically told me how well she knew Warner (great stuff here, but not in agreement with what has been published). In regards to Gone with the Wind, she had a “take no prisoners” stance. On the visit wherein we talked about her landing the role of Melanie I was well prepared for the conversation. By that I had notes with me relating to her landing the role including the points-of-view of fired director George Cukor and producer David O. Selznick, along with additional storylines. She listened intently to what I shared, and then proceeded to inform me what really happened. Like most primary sources—and I don’t care if it is 1860s Colorado Territory or 1930s Hollywood—everything must be considered in an attempt to piece together what happened. At times I have placed conflicting, but just as valid, points of view of an event in my notes. I’ll give you one guess of what is going to happen here.

Edmund Guerrier and Julia Bent were two mixed-blood Cheyennes who were young at the time of the Sand Creek Massacre in Colorado Territory on 29nov1864. They were both in the village on that tragic day, but luckily both escaped death and sexual dismemberment. Some books have them married on that tragic day, but without any proof. Actually they weren’t married, and wouldn’t be for many years in the future (and I can prove this).

An Active Person am I

Always! I learned how to duel with a foil with the great Ralph Faulkner, who won the World Amateur Sabre Championship in 1928, and represented the USA at the Olympics that year and in 1932. He had come to Hollywood to become an actor in the early 1920s (even playing Woodrow Wilson in a silent film) but soon began his great career as a stunt double and as a choreographer of duels for decades, as well as having has own Falcon Studios on Hollywood Boulevard where he taught fencing for over fifty years.

My partner parries an LK slashing sabre lunge to her midriff at North Hollywood Park in December 1981. Although mostly cropped, our coach and the cameraman dominate the foreground of this image as they taped the workout. (photo © Louis Kraft 1981)

I grew up with a pool, swam in the Pacific, and up until early 2013 swam (the last years in 24-Hour Fitness pools, which are great!). A lot of sandlot football, and this resulted in my first real injury in the late 1960s. Ditto sandlot baseball (my parents refused me playing on a Little League team), but between 1980 and 1990 I played ten years of year-round softball (for the Kool-Aid Kids), but this ended in early 1990 with a knee operation and my brother’s sudden death (the most shocking event of my life then and it still is today). At that time I had also been running since the late 1970s, usually doing three and a half miles or seven miles per day. Let me tell you that running and swimming (and I was doing thirty-plus laps at 24-Hour Fitness without a break when I ran out of time) keep you in shape. Think the 24-Hour Fitness pools are Olympic sized (they were certainly the same size as the pool that I used in college). Oh, I also learned swashbuckling, or stage dueling, in the early 1980s ( and fought and choreographed duels for the stage), and I still work out with a blade when all is well.

A change of pace

In fall 2015 I redid the front yard during my spare time (I had previously removed the grass and already had a lot of drought-resistant vegetation growing in the yard). I leveled the ground, put in walkways of rock and stones and wood chips, and created a maze of cactus, aloe vera, and other plants that provide beauty (at least to my eyes). Every time I stand or sit in the front yard I feel as if I am in New Mexico or Arizona or the original SoCal. This was easy work and I never broke a sweat.

Still, a lot of the work was on my knees, and this is where I discovered a problem for in this position I began to huff and puff. I completed the work about the second week of December but the breathing problem bothered me. I began searching for answers, and the only one I came up with of pointed to my heart.

My heart has always skipped a beat and my cardiologist and I have tracked it for decades without any problems. Early in January 2016 I visited him (he’s also my internist), and he ran all the usual tests and everything came up negative.

How? Why? Something was going on. … Finally he had me blow into a breathalyzer. I failed—twice. He prescribed an inhaler and pills to control blood pressure, which he felt would climb (my blood pressure had always been good, but soon it would become a challenge).

Final LK art of my internist/cardiologist of over twenty years, and writing partner on The Discovery. (art © Louis Kraft 2017). If I ever complete The Discovery page on my website I intend to use this image on it.

Late on January 16 while using the inhaler for the night dose I fell backwards into the bathtub and cracked the top of my skull open. Blood flowed onto the wall and into the tub. My legs were hooked over the side of the tub, my ass was in the tub, and my back and head propped against the back of the tub and the wall. The blood was slippery and it continued to flow. I couldn’t get a firm grip with my hands and had become a turtle stuck on his back. Pailin, who had had just gone to bed, heard the crash, and rushed to help me get out of the tub. Afterwards she cleaned me up and I cleaned the bathroom. She asked if should go to the ER. … I shook my head. My brain functioned and I had performed a few simplistic concussion tests. I felt I okay, but told her I’d go to the internist/cardiologist in the AM. Before going to bed I called my PPO’s nurse line, and she recommended a night in the ER. … Pailin had a long day in front of her and I didn’t think the injury was that bad.

The following morning in my doctor’s office the nurse cleaned the wound as well as possible. She told me that I’d need staples. After checking me over the doctor asked if I was dizzy, felt faint, or had passed out before I fell. I told him no, that I was wide awake when I hit. He confirmed the nurse’s view, I walked across the driveway that separated the medical building from Providence Tarzana Medical Center, and checked into the ER. … The wound required six staples.

Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway

Pailin took this image of LK and Chuck Rankin at the Western History Association Conference in Newport Beach, California, on 17oct2014. (photo © Louis Kraft & Chuck Rankin 2015)

Folks, this manuscript dominates my days. As said above a delivery is due to my editor in December 2016 or January 2017. Alas, the word count grows and grows and grows. This is similar to the situation I had with the Wynkoop book contract. I luckily had then Editor-in-Chief Chuck Rankin behind me then, and he was again responsible for the Sand Creek contract. Actually Chuck pitched the story to me. I refused, but he refused to accept “no” for an answer. It took us two years to work out a proposal that was acceptable to both of us. … It is still acceptable to me, but this story has been pure hell to write. The research is ongoing, and as I’ve said elsewhere I put in about eight hours of research to about two hours of writing. And this is probably an understatement on the research side.

Pailin studying David Mann’s painting, “First of Five Thousand,” at the then Autry National Center on 7mar2015. Unfortunately the Plains Indians are not identified, something that I would have liked. The painting’s story is about a raid that is returning home to Canada with horses stolen in Mexico. Two thoughts: 1) That was one hell of a raid, and 2) That was a long trek to complete and return to their village safely with 5,000 horses. Considering that unknown Indians have successfully driven 5,000 horses from Mexico to Canada sounds like a movie plot and not reality, I like this painting. (photo © Louis Kraft 2015)

Although Chuck Rankin was pleased with the Sand Creek fight that was in the 37-page book proposal years back, it too has changed considerably as I know more now. Better, a lot of people are coming to life in what is currently chapter 13 as the fight turns into a scramble of single events that merge together to create the whole. …

Right after I learned of Sam Shepard’s death I again watched his and Barbara Hershey’s film, Defenseless (1991). It has been on my top 60 film list, off it, back on it, and off it ad nauseam. When you have a chance, do yourself a favor and see this film. Nice performances by Hershey and Shepard.

The DVD cover for Thunderheart (1992), another film I watch often.

I can’t begin to tell you how much I learn by studying film that I respect. For one thing, and this is important to Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway, as decent film constantly provides ideas on how to smoothly move from one event to the next.

Val Kilmer, Graham Greene, Shelia Tousey, Ted Thin Elk, John Trudell, Fred Ward, and Shepard are the key players in Thunderheart, a thriller that deals with a murder on a Sioux reservation around the time of the 1973 takeover of the town of Wounded Knee (27feb1973-8may1973) and the standoff with the U.S. government. For the record, and in stark contrast to Defenseless, this film has constantly been in my top five. On Thursday, 17aug2017, I asked Pailin if she’d like to join me in the Kraft Theatre and watch Thunderheart with me. She accepted and was glued to the screen.

For the record, the Cheyenne storyline is now jumping forward in leaps and bounds. John Chivington and John Evans move forward at a good clip. As do Black Kettle and Arapaho Little Raven. These two chiefs are coming to life through their actions and words. But these four aren’t the only ones: Ned Wynkoop, Rocky Mountain News owner and editor William Byers, and John Smith are also beginning to shine. Alas, William Bent is a little behind schedule, but this should end soon.

Earlier this year the manuscript lost a chapter when I decided merge chapters 1 and 2 together. The reason was simple: The manuscript is people driven regardless if they are major players, supporting players, or simply players who appear and then are never seen again. Too much time was being spent before I introduced a Cheyenne who emerged from the mists of time. Unfortunately his life ended tragically. And of course I’m struggling to confirm his presence at an early meeting with William Bent or reject it.

As in the past I take my time and challenge what I write and what I consider required for the manuscript. And time is ticking, … tick, tick, tick. It is time to walk the walk, that is it is time to put up or shut up.

Better, the Cheyennes and Arapahos are moving forward. We’re talking about raids and treaties and death and peace. We’re talking about a people who were led by chiefs that stood firmly for peace to save their people from murder as well as chiefs that stood firm for freedom at any cost.

Back to the healthy world of Kraft

This heading sounds facetious, or at best a big fat lie, … but this isn’t so. I have taken good care of myself over the years, and even more so after the cancer and spinal surgeries. As stated the first cancer surgery was to keep me among the living and the spine surgery (some four and a half months later) to hopefully keep me walking.

Dejah Thoris (named after the princess of Mars in Edgar Rice Burroughs’ John Carter/Martian novels). Fully grown in this 1978 photo, she was the kindest and sweetest animal I have ever known. (photo © Louis Kraft 1978)

After I fainted the morning after this cancer surgery when three nurses attempted to help me to a chair by the window all hell broke out. A neurologist at the hospital (not one of mine) thoroughly examined me and afterwards proclaimed that I would not walk in the near future … to which I told him to F-himself and get out. Additional testing continued deep into the night, and without checking I remained in the hospital nine days.

Not all was well when I returned home from the cancer surgery on a Saturday for on the next evening the catheter fell out of position and required a trip to the Encino Hospital Medical Center. The ER doctor told me he didn’t know how to put the catheter back in place. I told him to look it up in a medical book, which didn’t please him. Too bad! I then insisted he call my surgeon (who is also my urologist, who I’ve seen every three months since fall 2002) and he replaced it in less than a minute. The catheter was finally removed twenty-one days after the surgery. No fun.

There would be additional surgeries over the coming years, including an implant of animal tissue. I never asked, but have since hoped that it was Doberman tissue and not rat tissue.

The next biggie …

My sister, Linda Kraft-Morgon, lived in Lake Arrowhead with her husband Greg. They were supposed to come to my house for Christmas 2005 but I was under the weather and Linda’s immune system could not be put at risk. The second week of January Linda called and told me that she would soon die of the cancer that she had been fighting for several years. On the fifteenth I drove to Lake Arrowhead and we celebrated Christmas. On that day she told me that she had six more weeks to live.

Sunday, January 15, 2006, was a day that I’ll never forget. (photo © Louis Kraft 2006)

Sudeshna Ghosh, my documentation manager at Sun Microsystems, did one of the kindest things anyone has ever done—something I’ll never forget—for she allowed me to take a few hours off to drive to Lake Arrowhead two-three times a week during weekdays to see Linda, which gave me three to four days each during the remaining weeks with my sister. Sudesha’s compassion gave me a lot of memories captured in a handful of stolen hours, and they will be forever cherished.

During drives up the mountain to see Linda a sharp pain in my head became so intense that on numerous occasions I had to pull to the side of the road until it subsided. I didn’t think much about it as I figured that it was stress. … It wasn’t, for after Linda died on March 1 it continued in Los Angeles. That April I had my first sinus surgery, and I was lucky I did for if not I would have been heading for big trouble. Greg was right there for me, as was Diane Moon, my former girlfriend and her son.

The years continued

I swam laps at 24-Hour Fitness, worked out with sabres, wrote for companies (Yahoo! and Oracle), did my research in the field as well as in archives, spoke about the Cheyenne and Apache Indian wars as well as Errol Flynn and Olivia de Havilland, saw articles published, finished a book (Ned Wynkoop and the Lonely Road from Sand Creek), and signed a new contract (Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway).

March, Pailin’s good friend Daranee’s son, took this image just before we went through security at the Thailand International Airport on 1dec2014. We had spent the previous evening with Pailin’s great friends (Noi and Wichen) in Bangkok. Two of her brothers Pum and Mana, and Mana’s wife Pen, who had taken care of me during the wee hours before dawn when I arrived in Thailand weeks before and made sure I made my next flight, also joined us (along with other friends). Mana, Pen, and Pum took us to the airport the next morning.

Life was good. …

And on June 15, 2013, it got better. On that day I hosted a dinner party for five at Tujunga House. I invited a good friend and Errol Flynn expert and his beautiful wife (Robert and Annette Florczak) and another twosome. The other couple brought a lady for me. She was petite, pretty, quiet, and yet totally aware of her surroundings. Oh yeah, she was born in Thailand. Before that afternoon and evening ended I knew that I wanted her in my life. Yes, “That Lucky Old Sun” (my favorite rendition was Frankie Laine’s, released for the first time in 1949) is about long days and struggle while the sun shines. I find this very positive. Soon Pailin Subanna entered my life permanently—making me the luckiest guy in the world. And this feeling has easily quadrupled over the years.

Errol & Olivia is reality

I know that by now many of you think that my book on Flynn and de Havilland is little more than a pipe dream. Not so. I’ve been researching Errol & Olivia since 1996. The research is ongoing although the writing is light (but that is only because of what has been going on in my life and the major task of completing Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway).

In spring 2013 I spoke about Ned Wynkoop at the Order of Indian Wars symposium in Centennial, Colorado. I think that the trip was eleven days, and most of them I spent with Layton and Vicki Hooper in their then Fort Collins home (it was my pleasure, although most of the time we were snowed in). Before the symposium I enjoyed a great morning, lunch, and afternoon with Mike and Dee Koury. Before leaving I pitched Mike on a Gatewood/Geronimo talk in Tucson for the OIW’s 34th Annual Assembly, and he kindly said yes. This image was taken in Tucson on 26sept2013. This was Pailin’s first Indian wars event (and to date her last).

For the record my last article, “Geronimo’s Gunfighter Attitude,” was published in the October 2015 issue of Wild West. At that time I informed editor Greg Lalire that there would be no more articles until the Sand Creek manuscript was in production. In September 2013 I delivered my last talk, “Gatewood’s Assignment: Geronimo,” before the 34th Annual Assembly of the Order of the Indian Wars in Tucson, Arizona. Again, this is related to the writing that I must complete (Sand Creek and E&O).

You’ve waited this long, a little while longer will only build your anticipation and that might be good. I can’t begin to tell you what I have found about Flynn and Livvie (Flynn’s pet name for Olivia) over the decades but it is massive. When Errol & Olivia is finally published it will be an eye-opener for numerous reasons (and this is not braggadocio). There is a lot of new information to present, there are egregious errors that need to be corrected, and the presentation will not be like any book you have read about either of them before.

This is a publicity shot for They Died with Their Boots On (1941). It won’t make into Errol & Olivia.

Hint: If you have read one or more of my biographies you have an idea of what is coming. Continuing this thought, if you have read any of my nonfiction books you know that I don’t just tell one side of a story. While saying this, I must add that I don’t take on long-term projects (Charles Gatewood, Geronimo, and the Apaches as well as Wynkoop, Cheyennes, and Sand Creek) without being 100 percent behind my topics. By that I mean that I do not explore major players in my writing without a deep commitment to write the best book possible. Also, I never write a book or article with the intention of trashing someone. As far as I’m concerned just about everyone (and there are exceptions, such as Charles Manson or Ted Bundy—both of whom were mass murderers) believes that they were right when the did something. Sometimes events overwhelm them and they act rashly, but this isn’t often.

A staff artist for American Classic Screen, John Tibbetts, created the art of Flynn and de Havilland in Captain Blood in 1978, and it graced the cover of the Jan/Feb 1979 issue of the journal (right). Tibbetts’ art grabbed my attention decades ago. However, as the journal is long gone it might be difficult to track down who currently owns the rights to the painting or more important obtain a good digital copy of the original art.

If you’ve missed it, Errol & Olivia deals with their arrival in Hollywood, landing the leading roles in Captain Blood (1935), their life and times during their eight films together (1935-1941), and an epilogue. Like my Indian wars research I question a lot of what is generally considered fact for way-too-often information that has been sold as truth for decades is taken as truth, when in fact it isn’t. Ten, twenty, even a hundred printings of a supposed fact doesn’t guarantee anything if the source is unknown. Heck, it could have originated in a Daffy Duck cartoon. … I’ve seen numerous photos and a handful of paintings that feature Flynn and de Havilland together that would work for the cover of the book. Currently I’m leaning toward images dating to the 1940s.

For the record two other books are planned on Flynn. I already have the art that I want for the cover of one of these books.

A year of uncertainty—2017

The year began as any other, and for the most part I felt good. Walking the fourteen or so miles each week had done wonders for me. I even had different routes (half mile, mile, mile and a half, two miles, two and half miles, and three miles), and with this range I could take care of a lot of errands from grocery shopping to needed items at the drug store to dealing with the post office and the public library.

And this includes Sand Creek progress

Research and writing of Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway has made decent progress. Actually it finally started to have a life of its own as certain historical personages began driving the manuscript. I let them take control and followed leads until they revealed events and more important certain players’ roles in these events in ways I never imagined. But sometimes the leads led to dead ends, but this is always good as it lets me know what I thought happened never did. I can’t begin to tell you how valuable this is to know.

But for me there’s always that bleepin’ BUT

I stopped walking two or three days before July 5, 2017, as my left heel hurt. Worse, during the last handful or so of walks I often began to breathe heavily. At times I felt dizzy. Each time I halted until my breathing returned to normal. Also, if there was still a hint of dizziness or lightheadedness I remained stationary until it also passed.

As July 4th fell on a Tuesday our trash pickup was the following day. The first trashcan was picked up about 6:30 but I didn’t retrieve it immediately for on this day I felt dizzy and was wobbly on my feet after taking my one medication and using the prescribed inhaler. This had happened before (but sometimes it was later in the day). At these times I sat down until the feeling passed (sometimes at the computer). By seven that morning I felt great, and went outside to put the trashcan away. When the trashcan was in place I let go of it and looked west toward the garage. Without warning I fell over backwards, crashed onto the driveway, and cracked the back of my skull open.

I took the photo that I based this art on nine hours after the fall. I was only a handful of inches from a huge prickly pear cactus that a friend gave me in 1992. I shudder when I think about landing on that cactus. (art © Louis Kraft 2017)

I had difficulty rolling onto my stomach. Luckily Pailin had taken the day off as it was her birthday. Hoping  that she was still relaxing in the dining room I called for her. She heard me, rushed to help me roll onto my stomach, stand up, and into the house. A bloody trail followed us all the way to the bathroom, where she cleaned the wound. Without her I’m certain that it would have been a struggle for me to get off the asphalt. Nervous, she called my daughter and ex-wife, and the three of them took me to the Providence Tarzana Medical Center emergency room.

This is how I felt when admitted to the ER. This photo of me was taken on 14dec1979 while in makeup at Universal Studios. (photo © Louis Kraft 1979)

Surprisingly, and certainly after a holiday where firecrackers and other nasty things light up the sky deep into the night, there was no waiting line. The wound continued to seep and I quickly stained the sheet behind my head. After I was cleaned up more, the ER doctor examined the damage while she asked all the usual questions: Did I feel faint, dizzy, or light-headed before the fall. I didn’t feel anything before the fall, absolutely nothing. This was just the beginning as hours would pass while tests were performed and studied. The doctor finally returned and informed me that the test results (including a CAT Scan) were good. She left and my scalp was cleaned yet again. The doctor reappeared and inserted three staples into my head. I was released, but before leaving I asked the attending nurse to clean my scalp and wrap my head. “Why?” I held up my right hand; my fingers were red with fresh blood. “So I don’t ruin the car seat.” She did as requested.

It was pushing three in the afternoon when I was released from the ER. No one had yet eaten, and everyone asked if I was up to a food break on the way home—something quick? “As long as it isn’t McDonald’s, Carl’s Jr., or something similar, I’m okay.” We settled on Sharky’s Woodfire Mexican Grill. Until seeing this image by my ex-wife I didn’t realize how red I was at that time. (photo © Louis Kraft & Pailin Subanna-Kraft 2017)

The head healed slowly, but the dizziness increased and the blood continued to seep. Over the next week or so I saw my internist/cardiologist and my pulmonary specialist and presented them with detailed notes and told them the highlights. My pulmonologist told me that my one medication could cause dizziness (I already knew this per the prescription’s documentation but was happy to have a verbal confirmation) but my internist/cardiologist would have to change the prescription. The inhaler was his and he told me that it didn’t cause dizziness. “What about the potency of it?” When I had tested several inhalers in May they had a higher dosage. Since I already had another appointment with him early in September he suggested we discuss it in more detail then. I agreed. … My internist/cardiologist didn’t think that the medication caused my dizziness.

I still didn’t know what was going on, but I knew that I wouldn’t be doing any walking in the near future, and that my six-plus hours of yard work would be less. … On the plus side I had more time to research and write.

The Sand Creek tragedy is in my blood

Oh yeah, you can bet it is! Yesterday, today, tomorrow, and now forever. I’ve known Ned Wynkoop intimately for decades. This meant that I knew something about Black Kettle, Little Raven, John Evans, John Smith, George Bent, John Chivington, Bull Bear, Left Hand, Silas Soule, and on and on, but not as much as I would have liked as I had previously focused on their connections to Wynkoop. This is no longer the case, for now I need to know them as much as I possible. Some of this has been easier said than accomplished.

In this “hunting party” image Rocky Mountain News editor William Byers is standing at the right (as printed in “When Wynkoop was Sheriff,” Wild West, April 2011). From the moment I saw the photo during a research trip I have liked it. Alas, Byers is the only person in the photo that has been identified to my knowledge. I had suggested the image to Editor Greg Lalire, but then had second thoughts about using it as at the time I was considering it for the Sand Creek book. When more room was required at the beginning of the article for a portrait that I had done of Ned Wynkoop that was smaller than I felt it should be and suggested to Greg that he cut the “hunting party,” he emphatically said,”No.” “Why not?” “Because I like it.” I could understand his view as I still like it. However, I have decided that it isn’t for Sand Creek as it dates to the mid-1870s (which is interesting as Byers looks younger here than in the 1860s).

At one time the word “survival” was in the title of this blog. It no longer is as it appeared to relate just to me. Nothing could have been further from my intension. For most of the leading players, including everyone listed above, and a good number of the supporting players in the Sand Creek story, dealt with survival often. For the Cheyennes and the Arapahos it was a part of their daily life, be it food, the weather or tribal enemies, such as the Pawnees. When the white man—the vi’ho’ i—came they were presented with an even greater danger to their survival. It was no easier for the Anglo Americans who were lured to their world by the dream of golden riches, or those who followed and discovered a magnificent land. They too, were at risk, but not only from the people whose territory they craved, but each other while experiencing the same daily problems as the people they wanted to eliminate (food, weather, and so on). Doubt not that those who survived in the land that became Colorado Territory were strong, focused, and had no intention of ignoring what they saw as their future.

Byron Strom, custodian of the Anne E. Hemphill Collection, graciously allowed me to use this image of Captain Silas Soule on 1apr1865 (his wedding day) in Ned Wynkoop and the Lonely Road from Sand Creek. Actually he had given me permission to use two images, but the other I failed to restore in a timely manner. My skills have improved over the years and with Byron’s permission I plan on taking another attempt at an image that is terrific although terribly deteriorated.

The Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway contract states that the book will contain 37 images. Three will be maps and I’ll deal with them when the manuscript is in production. I’ve been looking for images for the book for years now. I prefer to use images that date to the time period of the manuscript. Hopefully there are photographs that will support the text, but in some cases I have used them in Ned Wynkoop and the Lonely Road from Sand Creek. I really don’t want to duplicate many of these images but know that some will be reprinted as they are key to the storyline unless I can locate similar images. At this time there are four photos that I’ll probably reprint, including the great portrait of John Chivington.

I’ve often used art (woodcuts, paintings, or line drawings). Also I have no problem with creating collages, as they count as one image. … I’ve been looking at the work of Cheyenne artists, and some of their work is descriptive and tells a story. If I decide to approach any of them, they will have to understand that I’m just a writer who would like to use their art and that I will provide them with a first edition of the book.

The cover for the October 2015 issue of Wild West. Really nice work by the art director.

There’s a story here (there’s always a story). I did two books on Lt. Charles Gatewood (Sixth U.S. Cavalry), Geronimo, and the Chiricahua Apaches’ struggle to remain free in the 1880s over a ten-year period. During a longer spread of time Wild West printed two stories of mine dealing with this subject. One of Gatewood finding Geronimo in Sonora, Mexico, and talking him, Naiche, the last hereditary Chiricahua chief, and the remnants of their people into returning to the United States and surrendering (“Assignment Geronimo,” October 1999) and Geronimo’s struggle to remain free (“Geronimo’s Gunfighter Attitude,” October 2015). Both magazines featured the great painting by Howard Terpning (“Legend of Geronimo”) on the cover.

Guy Manning’s Geronimo painting (El Prado Galleries, Sedona, Arizona).

For both articles I recommended Guy Manning’s terrific oil painting of an alert and squatting Geronimo as he watches for trouble in a night scene with blue dominating the painting. Both times either Editor Greg Lalire or the art director went with my suggestion. … The point of this story is that I contacted El Prado Galleries in Sedona, Arizona, and inquired about using Manning’s Geronimo art in Lt. Charles Gatewood & HIs Apache Wars Memoir. “Sure,” the person I spoke with said. “The cost is $2,000.00.” “No thank you,” I replied as I chuckled. … The above image is from the 1999 Wild West article. Unfortunately the text bled through from the following page. The presentation in the 2015 issue of Wild West was terrific but it took up the first two pages of the article (and I didn’t feel like taking the magazine apart to scan the image).

Images already in place for Sand Creek

I have several images long in public domain that I own and they will be in the book when published. I also intend to use two images of white captives, and one of a Cheyenne girl captured at Sand Creek. I’ve also seen an earlier portrait of John Chivington that I might use. … In regards to large art there is a painting of the Battle of the Washita (27nov1868), that although stiff in presentation, features Black Kettle and Medicine Woman Later attempting to escape death.* I plan on looking into the rights to use it but only if it can be printed as a detail as the entire painting is way-too large to be of any use in the Sand Creek book.

Chief Yellowman (left) and Southern Cheyenne Peace Chief Harvey Pratt near the battlefield overlook during the first day of the Washita Battlefield NHS 2011 Symposium on November 11. On this day Gordon blessed the sacred ground and Harvey spoke about what it was like to be a Cheyenne warrior in the 1860s and to fight on foreign battlefields in modern times. (photo © Louis Kraft 2011)

The Battle of the Washita is in the scope of the Sand Creek as the manuscript concludes at the end of the 1860s.

There will also be a new portrait of Black Kettle. A good friend of mine is Jeroen Vogtschmidt, an artist and historian who lives in the Netherlands. He specializes in American Indians. He does a lot of portraits of especially the Plains tribes, and he has written books that also deal with them. Unfortunately they are in Dutch, although he told me that he is trying to get one of his books translated into English. Earlier this year he asked some of his friends which Indian portrait they would like to see him paint next. Motor-mouth Kraft jumped at this: “Black Kettle!” Jeroen liked the idea and completed the portrait. I liked his art, especially BK’s eyes which are focused on someone who is slightly to his left. Not shy I pitched him on allowing me to use the image in Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway. Jeroen immediately agreed. Unfortunately I don’t have any photos of Jeroen, and I need to rectify this.

Those of you that have read my Sand Creek blogs know that I like a painting that Southern Cheyenne Peace Chief Gordon Yellowman painted years back (a framed print is displayed in one of the rooms in Tujunga House). When the manuscript nears production I plan on sharing it along with other paintings for the book cover (to date only Chief Yellowman’s art on the list, and honestly I don’t think that this is going to change) with Chuck Rankin and current OU Press Editor-in-Chief Adam Kane to hear their thoughts on the painting.

A perfect storm

I saw my neurologist near the end of July 2017. As the CAT Scan had been negative at the Providence Tarzana Medical Center on 5jul2017 and a Brain MRI and X-rays of my lungs had been negative in May, he remained concerned and ordered a Brain EEG. After the EEG test on August 8 (in the medical building across the drive from the medical center) the technician told me that my brain looked fine. He then called me to his monitoring device and showed me that my heart rate was low. It ranged between mostly 35 and 36, and at times it dropped as low 30 while never reaching 40.

For the record, this was the first time I was aware that I might have a heart problem.

Knowing that my neurologist wouldn’t see the results for two or three days I took the elevator up to my cardiologist’s office and told him the Brain EEG results. His nurse did an EKG (my heart rate was 39), and then attached a device on me that would record my heart rate for the next 24 hours. The next day when I returned it I was told to call the following morning for the results.

After the surgery, and until just before I was released, my vitals were watched closely. (photo by Pailin Subanna-Kraft and © Pailin Subanna-Kraft & Louis Kraft 2017)

The next four images
precede the flow of text but
do not ruin the telling of what
has recently impacted my life.

I had heart problems, but my cardiologist was totally in the dark.

About 11:30 AM on August 10 I called for the test results, but there were none yet. I called back at 11:55 AM. “You have severe heart blockage, and need to get to the ER immediately,” my cardiologist said. “Do not drive.” He also told me the name of my surgeon. My surgeon?

Why didn’t he call me as soon as he had the results?

As Pailin was en route to West LA, I called my daughter and ex-wife. They didn’t answer but returned my phone call within minutes. They arrived at Tujunga House at one and drove me to Providence Tarzana Medical Center ER. … In the ER my heart rate remained low while my blood pressure shot off the charts (for me) hovering around 240 and sometimes reaching 250 or more. After about two hours of the ER doctor studying my medical records and speaking to at least one of my specialists I was admitted to the hospital.

About 4:30 I met Dr. Dave Kim, who would be my heart surgeon. He showed me the printout of the 24-hour heart study. … My heart rate was skipping three and four and five heart beats at a time, and these were not isolated instances. The hospital had been monitoring my heart rate and blood pressure since my admittance, and I’m certain that the gap between these two readings increased considerably.

Pailin took this image of me holding the device that captures and displays my heart rate in realtime early on the morning of 12aug2017. At that moment it was 74. (photo © Pailin Subanna-Kraft & Louis Kraft 2017)

Through all of my surgeries I had been calm and collected except for two cancer surgeries, and they frightened me. The calmness has mainly been because I have always had full trust in my surgeons and surgical crews. I’m forever curious with everything that happens as events move quickly toward the anesthesia entering me. Knowing that when everything is over I’ll wake up, … or perhaps not. Surprisingly this is soothing to me.

If not, I’ll never know what happened. Trust me for I am aware of potential disaster as Dr. Robin Cook’s medical thrillers scare the hell of me (am currently reading Charlatans, which was just published). Still he is my favorite novelist. … We can now add a third surgery to my nervous list as I had entered the unknown world of the heart—my heart.

Pailin, who visited me at ten the previous night was back at seven on the morning of the eleventh. She had taken the day off. Her company was a godsend. As the day dragged by with uncertainty, my heart rate remained low, and the thought of my heart continuing to miss three and four beats at a time kept my blood pressure out of sight. … The unbearable sluggishness continued. I was supposed to be in surgery at four, but an hour passed without a peep out of anyone. I rang for the day nurse and asked for an update. She left but returned shortly and told me that the surgeries before mine proceeded slower than anticipated.

Breakfast with my lady on the morning of 12aug2017. (photo by Pailin Subanna-Kraft and © Pailin Subanna-Kraft & Louis Kraft 2017)

Long story short I was wheeled to surgery a little after six and my procedure began around six-thirty but moved slowly as my blood pressure remained high (I was not told what my heart rate was while under the knife). A bi-ventricular pacemaker was attached to my heart.

I had never seen what a pacemaker looked like until Pailin brought me home on August 12. Not a pretty sight but a thousand times better than the alternative. Pailin took this image of the pacemaker and scar above it as sunlight blasted through a bay window early on 27aug2017. (photo © Pailin Subanna-Kraft & Louis Kraft 2017)

Like the previous night I barely slept as the night nurse kept on top of my vitals. Again, a device that read my heart was attached to me (the same one as the previous two days) and it was plugged in as soon as my bed/gurney was back in place. The intravenous line was again attached and I was again put on air. My blood pressure remained high until four-thirty on the morning of the twelfth, and from that point on it slowly returned to normal. The monitoring continued all day, but I was finally released at four-thirty. Like the day of surgery—and it was a terribly long day for Pailin—she was back with me at seven on Saturday morning. On this day, which she again didn’t work, she informed her various managers that she would be taking the next six days off.

Free at last, and with hopefully a new outlook on life. Although I didn’t realize I was in big trouble until August 10, I am absolutely thrilled that a perfect storm set me in motion to get the pacemaker before something terrifying happened. I’m one lucky fellow.

The future?

Mine is now.

LK on the morning of 27aug2017. I’m getting a little stir crazy, and there’s weeks more of this, but I can’t begin to tell you how happy I am. (photo by Pailin Subanna-Kraft and © Pailin Subanna-Kraft & Louis Kraft 2017)

I had met with my heart surgeon (Dr. Dave Kim) on 18aug2017 and had a lengthy description of what had happened between August 10 and 12, and what I had experienced since. The bi-ventricular pacemaker is currently set to 60, meaning that ideally it will trigger my heart to function whenever the heart rate drops below 60. However, I have atrial fibrillation, an irregular heart beat. As I had shared that I had some chest pain and slight lightheadedness, he told me to use Aspirin to thin my blood and that I would probably be put on a blood thinner. The mild chest pain continues off and on, at times my heart races*, and my breathing is heavy, but the lightheadedness is gone. The next two weeks will be key.

* My heart surgeon is mainly concerned about my lower heart chambers not having a regular rhythm and beating faster than they should, which could cause clot-related blood flow problems. Honestly, so am I.

Dr. Kim has become my heart specialist. On September 14 I’ll enroll in a heart monitoring clinic at his office. Once set up, the clinic will be able to monitor my heart 24/7 when I’m at home.

My neurologist (Peter-Brian Andersson), who I have a sparkling relationship with (medically, life interests, and personally), has kept up with what is going on with me via the phone (he has the surgeon and hospital records). I also see him in early September.


Will I live to see our future, our country’s future? My friends, the answer is yes!
On May 31 I told my pulmonary specialist that I planned to live to 130.
He chuckled and said that he did, too.

Sand Creek and a Louis Kraft book update

Website & blogs © Louis Kraft 2013-2020

Contact Kraft at writerkraft@gmail.com or comment at the end of the blogs


Kraft is slow because he wants to research
everything that makes it into his books. This takes time,
a lot of time. At times it is an ungodly amount of time
and yet it must happen before l can deliver a
manuscript to my editor.

I’d like to make a lot of money on my freelance writing, but that
isn’t the objective. What I really want is to write books that have value
and will outlive me. This is my goal, and it has always been my
goal. … The future will decide if I succeed or fail.

You may ask why I have so often talked about time.
The answer is simply that it is key to all of our lives.
For me, the clock is ticking at lightning speed.

I have work to complete …
and Ladies to protect.

This blog features Rocky Mountain News editor William Byers & Ned Wynkoop

Oops!!!! Sometimes it seems that nothing is easy in my life.

Dumb ol’ Kraft thought that William Byers would be a slam dunk. Since I just used a basketball term I guess that I should continue with the sport that has given me a lot of pleasure during this century. Let’s just say that I thought that Byers would be an easy layup. No-no-no!!!

This image was taken on 5mar2017. My face was lighted by a bay window while the two images on the wall were in almost total darkness. The top image is the poster for the publication of the Wynkoop book. My friend and editor Chuck Rankin gave it to me in 2011. The bottom image is of me as Wynkoop in Ohai, Calif., in 2002. … I have been ripped by a supposed friend, a supposed good writer friend originally from Ojai, Ca., for only writing about one subject—Ned Wynkoop. Pure BS!!!! I’ve written two books about Gatewood and the Apaches and one about George Armstrong Custer and one about Wynkoop. Nothing else needs to be said, other than I need to address this accusation by this oh-so-great writer friend (yes, I’m being sarcastic) who pounded me for not congratulating him for his most recent move from Williams, Az., to the Phoenix area, while asking me what happened to my Thai girlfriend. He failed to not only remember Pailin’s name, but also that I had sent him a long email about our marriage. That was the final straw for I could take no more from this egotistical prick. I had read all of his clichéd crap over the years (and was kind, an understatement), but no mas. I pounded his piss-poor subjects and inferior writing and said, “adios.” (photo © Louis Kraft 2017)

When I started my current inter-library loan request I was shocked. The Los Angeles Public Library system is huge (100 branches, and the main branch in downtown LA is magnificent). There were no biographies on Mr. Byers, who was one gutsy fellow, and better one of the most important figures during Denver City’s birthing years. He knew what he wanted for the city, for Colorado Territory, and eventually for statehood. Byers shot for the moon and he had no problem going after his competition or those who opposed him. … I have a T-shirt that simply says: pen > sword. I agree with this, and I think that William Byers would have also. Byers was not a man who carried a gun and shot people, but he had guts and then some. I think that if I had had the chance to have met him that we would have gotten along as long as I didn’t oppose his plans. If I did, woe to Kraft for whatever good press he might have given me would have gone up in smoke quickly.é

Art of Rocky Mountain News editor William Byers in later life. Louis Kraft Collection.

Those of you who have read Ned Wynkoop and the Lonely Road from Sand Creek (University of Oklahoma Press, 2011) know who William Byers was. For those of you who haven’t read my book on Wynkoop and who are clueless of who Byers was I hope the following introduces you to him. … I hope that the following introduces you to a magnificent man who had decided to publicize the new land that also happened to be to east of the Rocky Mountains in an area that would eventually become the boom town of Denver City. He, like Ned Wynkoop, would face many adversities for his views and, like Wynkoop, this could have led to a violent death on numerous occasions.

Byers and Wynkoop began their relationship when they met in Omaha, Nebraska Territory, in early January 1859. At this time Wynkoop provided details about the gold fields near the confluence of the South Platte River and Cherry Creek, but these details were mostly based upon rumors as mining was then on hold until the following spring when temperatures warmed. Byers gobbled up what he heard as he was then writing a book that publicized the so-called “Pike’s Peak Region.” It and other books would send hordes of men west in the hope of becoming rich. Most would fail.

This is a variation of an image that I created of Wynkoop for an article I wrote for Custer and His Times Book Five. “Ned Wynkoop’s Lonely Walk Between the Races” was published in 2008. The art has appeared in four or five publications since then, with the most important being an article that I wrote for Wild West magazine, “When Wynkoop was Sheriff,” which was published in April 2011. Again, this is a variation, for the image printed in Wild West was an oval and it wasn’t a duotone. (art © Louis Kraft 2007)

Byers and Wynkoop hit it off that January of 1859. It wasn’t long after their meeting that Byers would set off for the gold fields; he arrived in Denver City in April 1859 and began publishing the Rocky Mountain News soon after. Wynkoop, who had braved the dead of that 1858-1859 winter reached civilization shortly after meeting Byers. He presented the Denver City Town Company’s claim only to fail and not secure the reason for his trip. There was one thing about Wynkoop. Like Byers, he never turned his back on what he thought right, and he refused to quit even though the bid had failed. Wynkoop continued to push for the town company; he also negotiated with the St. Charles Town Company, whom his land group had claim-jumped. Even at this early age Wynkoop was good with words, had charm, and prevailed in merging the two land development companies.

Upon his return to Denver City in fall 1859 Wynkoop and Byers became friends even though Ned survived by the seat of his pants while Byers and his wife Elizabeth socialized with the elite of the booming town.

This would soon hit the fan when Byer’s wife went ballistic with Wynkoop’s future lady. For some reason Byers refused to take sides in this altercation. Actually Byers often allowed Wynkoop to get away with his transgressions wherein if someone else had done what Ned had Byers would have attacked that person in print. To me it appears that the two men had a good friendship to the point that Byers mostly turned his back on his friend’s actions and mostly kept those wherein he stepped outside the law out of the press. But then that terrible event of November 1864 happened, and Wynkoop, then an officer in the First Colorado Volunteer Cavalry but not present when Chivington’s command attacked the Cheyenne and Arapaho village circles at Sand Creek on 29nov1854, refused to keep his opinions silent. Byers had been able to turn his back to a lot of his friend’s antics and indiscretions but not his vocal view that innocent men, women, and children had been murdered and butchered.

This image dates to April 2012 and the Western Heritage Awards extended weekend in Oklahoma City. My article, “When Wynkoop was Sheriff” (Wild West, April 2011) won a Wrangler, which is a cool bronze statue of a cowboy on a horse. This was a fun time with friends and people that I just met. Even though my connection with Wynkoop is deep and ongoing (and I do publicize our connection), to claim that he is the only un-racial person I write about is a joke. I’ve written two books about Charles Gatewood, one about George Armstrong Custer, and when I complete my trilogy on Errol Flynn I will have written more about him than anyone else. To date I have written one book about Wynkoop (although he will be a key player in Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway). Two books are planned on Kit Carson and two on the pirate Francis Drake. Those of you who have no clue of what you talk about—and I’m pointing my finger at a writer who runs off at the mouth without knowing anything—you need to get educated, you need to do a little research, you need to prepare before you say a lot about nothing. Period! (photo © Ownbey Photography & Louis Kraft 2012)

Friends—good friends—became enemies. For all time. LK has been there and done that. Why? How? I don’t know the answer, but with the drop of a quarter good friends, people who I thought were friends until the end of time changed colors, and attacked with a vengeance and a hatred beyond imagination. They were friends of long standing and suddenly they bared their fangs and struck to kill. …

I have not yet survived the shock, or have recovered from their vicious verbal and written attacks of hatred. Most likely I never will. There’s a hole in my life that can never be repaired, never become whole again.

NEVER!

What I have experienced I am certain that Ned Wynkoop also experienced. The shock in my life was not as extreme as the shock that he lived through for he knew people who were murdered and I only deal with egotism, stupidity, and love turned into venom. How can a person I liked and respected for decades turn into a viper whose sole goal was to belittle another’s writing career? How can people that I have been close to create lies and then believe them as truth? How do I—or they—survive this? … We don’t. It’s just like seeing fresh roadkill lying in a broken clump with blood seeping onto the pavement. An innocent life had ended for no reason other than being at the wrong place at the wrong time.

LK as Ned Wynkoop viewing the butchered remains of the Sand Creek dead when he visited the massacre site in 1865, as photographed by my good friend, writer, historian, and editor Johnny D. Boggs in December 2008 during a dress rehearsal in Cheyenne, Oklahoma. (photo © Johnny D. Boggs & Louis Kraft 2008)

These are scenes that I have experienced and I have never forgotten. I’m certain that Wynkoop’s and Byers’ experience was much harsher on both of them than mine has been.

Wynkoop was not me, … nor am I him, yet we are joined across the centuries because of our views on race and racial equality (and not because we had good relationships that flamed out and burned). Does that make him evil … or me evil? Without blinking an eye—No!

Research is mandatory to writing a good book. No real research and a “so-called” nonfiction book is basically bullshit. That is crap, and let me tell you that there are a ton of these pieces of shit published every year. All I can say is: “Shame on these authors!” … “Shame on them!” for their goal was book sales and to hell with truth or reality. You do not want to know my opinion of these cretins for it really isn’t printable. … Ditto the publishers that printed their travesties.

Where am I headed? I’ll tell you …

Suddenly what should have been easy research on Editor Byers has gone belly up. This cannot be for William Byers must be a leading player in my manuscript, even when he is AWOL in book print. He was a major part of my pitch and I have no intention of deserting him or his cause. Trust me. This man had a vision for a new land, and it was a good vision if we view his roadkill attitude of taking no prisoners in print from his point-of-view.

Know this, I don’t give up. I want Arapaho chief Left Hand to be as large as possible. I also want William Byers to be a major presence in the Sand Creek manuscript. … Hint, hint, hint. Ha-ha-ha. … I know the answer but I ain’t a tellin’.

OU Press editor-in-chief Chuck Rankin speaking at the Western Heritage Awards banquet in April 2012. (photo © Ownbey Photography 2012)

Last December I had a great phone conversation with Chuck Rankin, who had initially pitched me on writing about Sand Creek. It took us two years before we agreed upon a vision for the book and then more years  for me to create a 37-page proposal (that Chuck reviewed in progress and in which he had massive input) before we finally signed a contract in 2013. … Going into the project I knew I had bitten off a huge bite, but that would be worth all the wrong turns, dead ends, and honestly the struggle to use a select group of players to drive a non-biography to conclusion. … I don’t get headaches; never. That was then. Now is now, and now I get headaches. But then perhaps this is only because I have fallen on my head and cracked my skull open way too often.

I have an angle to follow. It is not where you might think. It is not where I would have ever guessed. But it is close to LK’s desires. My fingers are crossed that I can make my pitch and that my arrow splits the arrow dead center in the target. I’ll soon know, but not you for you, for regardless if it is an LK win or yet another failure you will have to wait—most likely years for an answer. Sorry, but that’s just life in the real world.

But an unforeseen problem

As mentioned above, I failed to locate a biography of William Byers in the Los Angeles Public Library’s 100 branches. Abebooks.com, which I often use for research, also had no hits. Ditto Amazon.com. At the moment I have a zero mark on landing a major biography on one of the most important players in Denver and Colorado Territory’s early years. Why? WHY?

I have some great primary sources on Mr. Byers. Hell, a week doesn’t go by when I don’t have my nose pressed against my computer screen reading an issue of the Rocky Mountain News. Someday this will cause me to go blind. Don’t believe me, read the sucker, that is the RMN, without glasses or a magnifying glass. Byers’ paper that he used to conquer all who opposed his vision is a magnificent document. Magnificent as long as you understand the paper’s stance and viewpoint. … That’s right, for sometimes you must read between the lines or more important question what you have just read.

Heck, the Los Angeles Times is a magnificent newspaper—today, in 2010, and in 1941 or 1937 or before. This does not mean that I buy what the paper has printed in well over a century sight unseen. Actually, just like I challenge the Rocky Mountain News, I also challenge the LA Times, and I do use it for historical research, today’s events, and even the paper’s selection of cartoons, which are first class (and often hit the target dead center).

This is an artistic rendering of the west coast of Costa Rica. It could have been the southern coasts of Spain or France, or, if I eliminated the water and changed some of the colors, New Mexico. … I love Los Angeles. It has more culture and artistic events than anywhere else in the USA, and that includes NYC and Santa Fe, which is my favorite city in America. Moreover, and much more important, Los Angeles has more people of ethnic origin than any city in the USA, and even more important has more Thai people than any city in the USA (and if you add all the Thai population in the other cities stretched across our great country together LA still remains number one). This is a major fact for my lady, and the major reason for us to not leave this great city. Put mildly, Los Angeles is our home and we don’t want to move. That said I constantly study Costa Rica and New Mexico. The future? Someday we’ll know. (art © Louis Kraft 2015)

On 20mar2017 the Los Angeles Times led with “Trump’s immigration plan faces obstacles,” by Don Lee (pA1+). If you read the article and dig, just a little, you will see that the threat is much more than to just immigrants without papers and to immigrants with no criminal records and are in the U.S. as it offers them a much better life. … Actually the threat is frightening and it is much larger than you might expect.

This is one of my favorite images of my cowgirl, my lady, my best friend, my love, and my wife (although she wasn’t my wife when I took this photo in the front yard of Tujunga House on 7nov2013). This photo is framed and is placed in a prime position on my desk. (photo © Louis Kraft and Pailin Subanna 2013)

In my freelance writing I try to challenge everything that I discover and read and discuss with my network of writers, historians, editors, artists, and other creative people. The thoughts and ideas are lively. Many have helped me, and I hope that I have helped some of them. I use my network to not only widen my knowledge but to keep up our friendships. Besides some of what I learn or now understand might eventually make it into a talk, article, or book. … I also try to do this with my every-day life and world, but most of this I do on my own. I believe that eventually the United States will regain its senses and most of this ugliness that is currently in vogue will begin to fade away. If perchance it doesn’t make a major U-turn, most of my adult life will have been lived in vain and all that you and I have seen change for the good will have been for naught. What does that say about our time walking this earth? Without naming names my current view of our future is frightening.

A William Byers strikeout

At the moment I feel like one of the Major League Baseball players that whiff (that is strike out) 200 or more times every season while justifying their failure to hit the baseball and their piss-poor .245 batting average means nothing as they belted 37 balls over the fence (that is 37 home runs). Give me a break! I’ve seen great ballplayers perform on TV and in person, and there aren’t many that are great. One was Duke Snider of the Brooklyn Dodgers (who, and luckily for me, moved to Los Angeles when the Dodgers deserted Brooklyn, New York, after the 1957 season).

The signature to LK was on the cover of a magazine that printed a feature on the Duke by yours truly. I would write numerous articles about him, but when I pitched him to co-author his autobiography I stuck out for he had already contracted with writer Bill Gilbert. … I spent a fair amount of time with the Duke during a few years in the 1980s. He was a good man, gracious, and I treasure our time together. Not bragging, and I’m not a big fan of celebrity signatures, but I’ve got a lot of the Duke’s. (A side note on another great player, Barry Bonds: His swing was so compact and smooth. Regardless if he took drugs or not and I’m not going to state what I believe about this, he belongs in the Baseball Hall of Fame. Yes, he certainly grew larger during the second half of his career, and the extra muscle certainly helped his home run output. But he still had to hit the baseball, and if you’ve never attempted to hit a ball that is coming at you at 90+ miles per hour you have no idea of how difficult it is to do.)

I hate feeling like that ball player who hits .245 when he’s lucky. And I’m not talking about money or poor performance. Rather I’m racking my brain trying to figure out how I’m going to make Byers fully dimensional. … At the moment I have more strikeouts than hits, and this isn’t acceptable.

I know that a Byers’ bio exists and I hope that I’ll be able to see it. If not, Mr. Byers won’t get too much press in future LK blogs. A shame, for it would be fun to challenge him at times. And especially so, since I already know that he wouldn’t meet me on the field of honor at 10 paces with revolvers in our hands—something that John Simpson Smith would not have blinked an eye before making or accepting such a challenge.

This image was published in “When Wynkoop was Sheriff” in the April 2011 issue of Wild West. William Byers is standing in the upper right. This article was almost never published. When I saw a proof I wasn’t pleased. It had but two images of Ned Wynkoop in the feature, and the portrait on the first page of the article was dinky. I had suggested most of the images in the article, including two of William Byers. I spoke with the person in charge of the images and told her that I wanted the above group shot removed so that the portrait of Wynkoop on the first page could grow in size. She told me that the design was complete and nothing could be changed. I restated what I wanted. She refused to budge and the phone call went downhill. Finally I said that if the portrait wasn’t enlarged it wouldn’t appear in the magazine. She told me to talk with Greg Lalire, and then hung up. Greg L is a great editor, and probably the major reason behind Wild West’s success for decades. He is also my friend. I didn’t call him. Two days later he called me and asked if I had a problem? “No,” I said, “but one of your coworkers has a problem.” He already knew what was going on; still we talked it through. … I want to say this up front, Greg has done everything possible to print my stories over the years, and he didn’t desert me at this critical time. … A few days later he called again and said that he had cut the other image of Byers. I saw another proof. My art had grown but not completely—still I was pleased. The Wynkoop article saw print and out of nowhere it won a major award, the Wrangler.

Does this make Byers a coward? Absolutely not! He was a brave man who put his life at risk day in and day out. … A little change of subject: Los Angeles has returned to its modern-day version of Dodge City. That is people are again gunned down or knifed to death at an alarming rate. I haven’t been saving these articles in the LA Times for it seems that almost every day another one or two or three or more people die violently (and many of them are innocent bystanders, and that includes infants, children, women, and men). Will their murderers be apprehended, brought to trial, and convicted? The answer is sadly not always yes.

This is a sad state of affairs, but this is nothing when compared to the dark-dark days that California will soon face. Although the Golden State isn’t a country I’ve seen it listed as the sixth richest economical area in the world. Well that bold claim may not hold up too long if the presidential prejudice and anger that is aimed at destroying its economy becomes reality. … That said, I’m totally against California becoming a separate country (as many idiots are proposing and pushing to get onto an upcoming ballot).

I have a lot of favorite images of my lady, and some of them are two-shots. This photo is one that I really like (it is framed and in our living room). This image dates to 13nov2013. We were enjoying the opening of the Lily Pad Thai Spa & Massage in Sherman Oaks, California. For the record, we were sitting on the floor. (photo © Pailin Subanna and Louis Kraft 2013)

Folks, the country of California is a joke. It is also a frightening possibility for those of us who love the USA and are thankful that we live in the United States regardless of how bad and racist our land has become in just a blink of time.

A return to the Sand Creek manuscript in a totally different direction

The young Cheyenne woman (she was in her early-to-mid-teens at the time of Sand Creek) Mo-nahs-e-tah, and this is the phonetic spelling and pronunciation of her name (I say this for often her name has been written as Mo-nah-se-tah (and other variations), which is/are wrong). Dr. Henrietta Mann, a Southern Cheyenne, who’s entire career has been one of exceptional achievement, including being one of the founders of the Cheyenne [and] Arapaho Tribal College in Weatherford, Oklahoma, shared this with me in 2012.

Dr. Henrietta Mann speaking at the Washita Battlefield NHS symposium on 6de2008. (photo © Leroy Livesay 2008)

I met and became friends with Dr. Mann—Henri to me—at the Washita Battlefield NHS in December 2008. … In April 2012 we smiled and joked, we shared gifts, and we talked about serious subjects when I drove to Weatherford to visit her in her office at the college. She ordered lunch in and our time together continued with a mix of good and bad.

The Cheyennes are unfortunately on the bad side (if you’ve read my writing or heard my talks or seen my plays you know why). I’m not on that “bad” side; actually I’m on the opposite side. The Cheyennes in the 1850s, 1960s, and beyond, were on the good side. Although the word wouldn’t exist until the end of WWII, they faced “genocide.” Genocide! White people craved their land, and they did whatever they could to secure it (a better word is “steal” it). … And this included murder. Of course, when the Cheyennes and their allies fought back they were reported as “vicious savages who murdered and raped.”

The lady 2nd from the left is Mo-nahs-e-tah, and I am certain of this. She is holding her child who was pure Cheyenne. Prior to when this image was created she accompanied George Armstrong Custer on his mission of peace on the Staked Plains of the Texas panhandle. Her child, which was then an infant, did not accompany her. I have used a full view of this image in Custer and the Cheyenne and in Ned Wynkoop and the Lonely Road from Sand Creek. … My great friend and bro for all time, Glen Williams (who is one-quarter Cheyenne), gave me this print of Mo-nahs-e-tah, and it is now part of the Louis Kraft personal collection. … During my visit with Henri in 2012 I asked her how she would phonetically spell and pronounce Mo-nahs-e-tah’s name. She gave me the above information.

When your total lifeway is at risk, and that includes your lives, what are you going to do?

FIGHT! Or in the case of Arapaho Left Hand, and Cheyennes Black Kettle, Lean Bear, and White Antelope they would do everything possible to keep the peace between the races with words and not weapons.

Does this make them a “savage?” Or did this make those who refused to fight for freedom without weapons traitors to their own race? The answer to both questions is: No!

LK art of Bull Bear, the great Dog Man chief, and of Black Kettle, who, in my opinion was the greatest Cheyenne chief of all time. (art © Louis Kraft 2013)

Until Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway goes to press I will struggle to define and document the Cheyennes (and to a lesser degree) the Arapahos lifeway and history. This time in their lives, this critical time in their lives must be recorded. And it must not be forgotten. … Also it must be recorded with an unbiased opinion.

I know that Mo-nahs-e-tah was at Sand Creek on 29nov1864, and I know that she escaped, but that was it. Now, thanks to my good friend, Gary Leonard, who is very knowledgable about this lady and the Cheyennes, I now know that she did not make her run for freedom that winter day before a soldier’s ball wounded her. Do I have enough to write about this? That is a big question at the moment. Perhaps Gary and I will be able to open a conversation wherein we can share and discuss, confirm some facts, and learn more about her. I hope so; otherwise this would be a tragedy for me.

I can’t begin to tell you how difficult this is to realize. Unfortunately this problem is generally the case, and that is that the victors write the history, and the losers’ stories are forgotten or ignored or buried. This should not be; it should never be!

As previously stated … 

I have to complete Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway and Errol & Olivia. Fear not for I will do this. Know also that I am one tough cowboy. I will outlive my ladies for I must protect them, I must keep them safe (especially Pailin and Marissa). … This means that you will endure decades more of my writing. Smile, for you have good—or bad—reading a comin’.

The Sand Creek, Errol Flynn, Ned Wynkoop & Louis Kraft connection

Website & blogs © Louis Kraft 2013-2020

Contact Kraft at writerkraft@gmail.com or comment at the end of the blogs


I thought that for the third time my next major blog would deal with race and racism in my life, as this has always been a major piece of my world and always will be.

Actually on other social media it had been advertised as the next blog
as an introduction to dealing with some of the explosive comments
that my blogs had garnered that were both hateful and
threatening. Those who responded, and almost as
a total group, uplifted me from the dark swirl
of what amounted to threats.

I have no intention of shortchanging my world but
at the moment I need time, … and want to keep focused on
Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway.

I have a major announcement to make in regards to
Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway
(It will appear at the end of this blog).

Who am I?

I’m a pirate, a duelist, an explorer, a frontiersman. More important I’m a person who has walked between race in my world and in past worlds that I never experienced but know intimately (the last half of the 16th century, the 1860s and 1880s, and the 1930s through the 1950s and into the 1970s and beyond).

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LK leaning against Ned Wynkoop’s restored home/U.S. Indian agency just outside the perimeter of Fort Larned in Kansas on 22sept2012. I represented Wynkoop that evening when the Santa Fe Trail Association inducted him into their Hall of Fame. Photo by Fort Larned NHS chief historian and my great friend George Elmore. (image © Louis Kraft 2012 & 2015)

My books all deal with the human experience (regardless if they are nonfiction or fiction). They deal with time and place while none of them are in the present. For the record, the only book I’ll ever write that deals with the here and now will be my memoir (and I had better be dead at least one day before it is published). Trust me that my research on this fact is on target and that there can be no room for deviation from what must happen before this book is published, … and you’ve seen a hint of what is to come in these blogs

These are not dark words. Rather they are truths in our modern world. Most people who write about their lives (or have someone else write about their lives for them) steer clear of truth. The reason is probably twofold: 1) They don’t want to be sued for telling the truth, and 2) They do not want to present themselves as less than an exemplary person. Unfortunately fully ninety percent of the autobiographies or memoirs that I have read fall into this category. These books are glossed-over bores that quickly put me to sleep, only to flip the travesty into a box that I’ll give to the Vietnam Vets when I awake. This must be good for I certainly need to sleep, perchance to dream.

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Of course this book has an LK story. It was distributed to book sellers early in 1960. As said Flynn had seen the galleys but he did not live to see publication (he died on 14oct1959). … At the time of publication I was in my first year of high school, and I had a job that I created—I collected bottles and cans to cash in at stores—that I worked almost daily. When the book was published I purchased it. My mother was upset and asked where I got the book. “I bought it.” “The book store sold it to you?” she asked incredulously. “Yes.” My mother knew that Errol Flynn meant a lot to me, even at that early age. “Okay,” she said, “as long as you don’t tell anyone you have the book or what is inside it.” I readily agreed. … Flynn wrote a book that contained a lot of truth—(and to repeat myself) so much so that for the second printing a lot was removed as some people didn’t like what he had written about them. They couldn’t sue Flynn for telling the truth for he was dead, but they made their anger known to the publisher. … Many people have since spread the word that a lot of the book was fiction (certainly in the early portion of the book; Tasmania and New Guinea, that a book I own but don’t totally agree with documented). … I have a lot to say about this. Mainly 1) Flynn changed names and facts to protect friends and himself (trust me, this is not strange in memoir); and 2) I write nonfiction (Custer, Gatewood, Geronimo, Wynkoop, and Flynn, and that includes Olivia de Havilland as she plays a large role in my first book on Mr. Flynn). Guess what: All of these people never documented their past accurately. Why? I’ll tell you why—I can’t document my past accurately. Reason: My memory has changed; it has forgotten or it has evolved into a new view of my life over time (thus I keep boxes upon boxes of documentation for my memoir). … Ditto Custer, Gatewood, Geronimo, Wynkoop, Flynn, and de Havilland. And there is what I said above about Flynn: Protecting himself and friends. … If I have learned a major thing from Flynn’s memoir (and this is my favorite book of all time), it is that when my memoir is ready for publication that it must be published after I am dead for this will be the only way I’ll be able to tell the truth.

The one autobiography that I have read that has forever stayed front and center in my life is Errol Flynn’s My Wicked, Wicked Ways (G. P. Putnam’s Sons, 1959). Mr. Flynn had magnificent help from writer Earl Conrad, who spent prime time with him in Jamaica when the actor-writer had trouble completing his memoir. Of course, Flynn’s story raised eyebrows. Certain personages were misnamed. Read: To protect friends (or Flynn himself), but not Koets/Erben for this was not EF’s doing, but other people Flynn spoke too truthfully about. Read: You pick them (but you had better have a first edition of MWWW, for if not a lot of the swashbuckler’s truths vanished in subsequent printings). Although Flynn knew he was dying (something that he had known for quite some time) he didn’t know that he wouldn’t see the publication of his memoir (although he did see the final galleys and approved them), … and he knew what he could possibly face (and thusly ignored the last love of his life in the book; he simply dedicated the book “to a small companion”).

Relax, my life doesn’t come close to the life that Mr. Flynn lived and shared with the world. But that said I have stories to tell that will result in people pounding on my front door with knives, sabres, Colt revolvers, and other instruments of destruction. I’ve had knives at my throat, guns pointed at me, but perhaps the worst was a surprise package in a plain white envelope with bold red letters that proclaimed: SHAME! This was from an editor in the software world that I worked well with and liked, and the contents were long dark hair. You won’t believe what her voice evolved into on voicemail messages—It was unnerving and chilled me to the bone. Luckily she lived and worked on the East Coast and I lived in SoCal, for otherwise I would have spent my days with my back to a wall while holding a brace of Colts in my hands as I waited for the front door to be bashed open. Are these words extreme? You bet! Are they the truth? Yes. Can I write about this lady and not get sued? Now that is the million-dollar question! … Yes, Mr. Flynn changed names and altered some facts but believe me he did some of this to protect himself (and some of it may have been because his memory had faded, but trust me for he never forgot the name of his friend Hermann Erben).

We have a lot of homeless people in Los Angeles and some I know on a
first-name basis—but I don’t want to join their ranks

I do walk the streets, but not as a hunter seeking prey. No! Absolutely not. I walk to be able
to walk, I walk for exercise, I walk for my health, and I walk so that I can survive. During these times (almost daily) I’m wary of my surroundings. At the same time I’m open to a human connection, and some of these people are homeless. I enjoy meeting and knowing
them (while knowing that I can’t offer them much). There is a lady named Sandy who shaves her head (the royal Egyptians of Nefertiti’s time shaved all their hair for cleanliness). She has a bicycle, is friendly, unfortunately has cancer, and we have talked on numerous occasions. I always carry a phone but I have never asked if I could take her picture (and I have never taken a photo of a homeless person, for they have a right to their privacy). This said she is a delight to know and I pray God every day that soon the tax leveled on Los Angeles home owners in the 8nov2016 election and which goes into effect today (1jan2017) will build housing for these unfortunate people (and not end up in politicians’ pockets).

What the hell?

… and how do I illustrate this section?

Perhaps I can use the artwork that I created of the Los Angeles 405 freeway
for my upcoming blog on race, as it is a nightmare. … Don’t think so.

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Cheyenne Dog Man Chief Bull Bear (left) and Cheyenne Peace Chief Black Kettle. (art © Louis Kraft 2013)

Just this; we all have lives and all of my subjects (except for Olivia de Havilland and less than a handful of people that I love) have moved on to the next world. … I must treat their lives with the same respect and accuracy as I would Livvie (Ms. de Havilland), Pailin, and everyone else in my life. I can’t treat them with anything less than the truth as my research defines it. Ladies and gents, this also includes my Sand Creek manuscript (Left Hand; John Chivington; John Evans; Charley Bent, BTW I think his brother George almost but not exclusively referred to him as “Charles”; Black Kettle; Bull Bear; George Bent; John Smith; Silas Soule; Ned Wynkoop; Little Raven; Scott Anthony; William Bent and everyone else I’m writing about.

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This 1980 book sold a lot of copies, and it is well-written. Unfortunately Higham wrote a lot that wasn’t true (and his major fictions have been debunked). Years later all some people know about Flynn is that he was a Nazi. Nothing printed about him has been farther from the truth. … Ah, the power of words!                                                             For the record, when I spoke with Olivia de Havilland about Higham’s biography about her and her sister, Joan Fontaine, all she shared with me was that Higham never contacted her and that he was “an unscrupulous man.”

Unfortunately you can defame the dead in the USA. In my opinion this is a massive crime and should be punished. It isn’t, but just because it isn’t writers and historians like me shouldn’t be able to have an open door and write untruths about people who can no longer defend themselves (and in many cases prove their innocence). … Anyone who writes about the past and calls someone a Nazi supporter or a rapist or a racist or child molester or a butcher of innocent people should be held accountable if he or she cannot provide proof for their statements. Writers who sell books and articles while destroying an historical person’s reputation should be called upon to prove what he or she has written or face a civil trial.

I can’t begin to tell you how many untruths I have seen in print (and unfortunately have heard verbally) about people that I write about and of which I know the facts from decades of study. Often I get pinged (and I’m being kind to me here) for taking so long to complete a manuscript. Put simply, I’m asked time and again why can’t I complete a 125,000-word or (in the case of Sand Creek) a 135,000-word manuscript in a year when writers for New York publishers can write a 400-500 page book in a year or two. You don’t want to hear this answer. … All I’ll say here is: Use your brain and think about it. My comments in the following paragraphs are a slam dunk reason why. You connect the dots.

I bought a book on George Armstrong Custer (2016) that won a major award, and immediately went to the index, and checked two pages that dealt with an historical figure that I know intimately. Guess what? Both pages had major errors (it’s on you to recognize them). The author cited a piss-poor so-called “autobiography” of Edward Wynkoop that was assembled by someone who’s research was horrendous (by the way, this “autobiography” was little more than an incomplete first rough draft that was less than half completed). 1868. If you know your history; enough said! … If not, reverse the dates. No! Not enough said, for it gets worse. The compiler-editor states that the great Peace Chief Black Kettle was born in 1841, became one of the four principle chiefs of the Cheyenne Council of Forty-four in 1853 (at twelve years of age?). … For the record I have written about Wynkoop and Black Kettle for decades, and these types of errors should never see print.

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* The above-mentioned Custer book had Wynkoop resign as U.S. Indian agent prior to Custer’s attack on Black Kettle’s village.

An Apache wars book that also saw print in 2016 listed (in my opinion) the best Apache wars book of all time, Edwin R. Sweeney’s From Cochise to Geronimo: The Chiricahua Apaches 1874-1886 (University of Oklahoma Press, 2010), in its bibliography. For the record, Sweeney’s book proved without a doubt that an Apache woman named Lozen was not with Geronimo and Naiche when they told Lt. Charles Gatewood that they would surrender and end the 1886 Apache war in Sonora, Mexico (August 1886). This book (and again I’m not naming it) totally ignores what Mr. Sweeney’s work proved for the simple reason that it didn’t agree with what that writer chose to stuff down a clueless public’s throat. As this book has sold a lot of copies it has yet again reintroduced a proven error as historical fact.

Shame on this cretin.

My friends, this type of supposed historical writing is little more than fiction perpetrated by authors who have preconceived premises that are set in stone and to hell with facts or truth. Is it lazy research? Maybe, and maybe no; at least I hope not. But it matters not, for they have set back real history by a number of decades.

I know, the above is something that I should shun and ignore.
I cannot! Two upcoming blogs will deal with Indian wars and Errol Flynn
errors, fictions, and lies, and everything will be totally documented.
But first my Sand Creek manuscript must be in production with OU Press.

Finally
Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway
and the winding road to today

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LK the December after working for VISTA. (photo © Louis Kraft 1970)

In case you don’t know, I never studied to become a writer. Simply put, and even though the late 1960s started this process, it was the decade of the 1970s that set me in motion to realize a future I never dreamed possible for it set me on course to walk my own road of decision and discovery. … If it wasn’t for the pure hell that I experienced while acting in Texas in 1976 I never would have become a writer. The events that I saw and lived through that summer placed an exclamation point on what I experienced in Austin (Texas) and Sapulpa and Oklahoma City (Oklahoma) in 1970. The year 1970 made me realize who I was while 1976 set me on course to become a writer. Both years put me at risk and yet pushed me to reach beyond anything I had yet imagined.

Over the years a lot of people have been in my corner. They have done many things to help me survive in the real world. This certainly began with my father (who always had my back) but then took off in 1970 when Cheetah Gates, my Volunteers in Service to America (VISTA) supervisor, told me that if I wanted to live I had better ditch the cowboy boots. I did. He then taught me how to survive while walking the streets of Oklahoma City at night (and this was after I had saved myself from having my throat slit in the wee hours of an Austin morn). It was during that long muggy summer where I found myself dead center in a racist storm. Oh, I should state that I was living and working with African Americans.

Six years later I again maneuvered through a Texas hotbed of racism and other nasty things. Richard Steele-Reed had cast me in What Did We Do Wrong and he almost had a heart attack when I threatened to quit when my salary was reduced after the seven days of rehearsals ended and the play opened.

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LK as Charlie, a struggling actor, in Eat Your Heart Out (Hayloft Dinner Theatre, Lubbock, Texas). I was on stage throughout the entire play. The Lubbock theater was in the round (the audience was on all four sides of the stage), and I have always loved performing this way. I also love breaking the fourth wall and speaking to the audience (which I again did with Cheyenne Blood and the Wynkoop plays in this century). (photo © Louis Kraft 1976)

Steele-Reed insisted that I behave (I said that I would as long as I received all my contracted salary for the run of the current play and that the next play included a hefty raise). He directed me in the following  play, Eat Your Heart Out. The part of Charlie would be the best role that I ever played (actually twice; also in SoCal in 1977). But the key to that summer was that it led me to write a screenplay about this experience, and it landed my first literary agent, Ed Mernerth. Over eight years he not only taught me how to write character, dialog, and plot but did everything possible to sell and option my screenplays.

But the times were changing. By the mind 1980s I quit acting cold turkey and started selling freelance articles and talks. The learning process continued, but from this time forward it was on me. In 1986 I landed my first job using a computer without ever touching one. There was one catch, I had one week to learn how to use a computer. I did, and within a year I brought desktop publishing into the company. This landed me a publishing position with a “how to succeed in business” company. I then used this publishing experience combined with my freelance writing to land a technical writing job in 1990. When I asked the manager for training, he laughed and said: “I hired you as a technical writer; you’re on your own pal.” Soon after Jackie Johnson, a New York editor, bought my first novel, and for the next 20 or so years I combined freelance and software writing (and let me tell you that the days and nights and weeks were long).

Enter Chuck Rankin

Charles (Chuck) Rankin has been the editor-in-chief at the University of Oklahoma Press (OU Press), the top Indian wars publisher in the world, for many years. Chuck befriended me years back and did what he could to improve my writing. This was during the time after I walked away from an absurd second Charles Gatewood/Apaches book contract with the University of New Mexico Press but before the University of Nebraska Press turned Lt. Charles Gatewood & His Apache Wars Memoir into my best selling book to date. During this time of short-lived uncertainty before Nebraska jumped on the Gatewood manuscript, Chuck and I began a long off-and-on discussion about Ned Wynkoop and his journey from being a racist to someone who became a hated white man when he dared to stand up for Indians (and in particular the Cheyennes and Arapahos).

Mr. Rankin & the OU Press staff

The following reviews (see below) would not have happened if not for Chuck Rankin’s patience and guidance.

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LK at the Western History Association convention in Newport Beach, California, on 17oct2014. On this day I introduced Pailin to Chuck Rankin, and spent good time great friends John Monnett and Durwood Ball (who, as then editor-in-chief at the University of New Mexico Press, jumped on Gatewood & Geronimo as soon as he read the manuscript in 1999), and Clark Whitehorn (currently executive editor at the University of New Mexico Press). (photo © Louis Kraft & Pailin Subanna-Kraft 2014)

For years Chuck hung close with me as we worked on the Wynkoop contract. After it was signed he stood firmly behind the manuscript. During this time he did everything possible to make the book as good as possible. Without Chuck and the entire OU Press staff, and this certainly includes production manager Steven Baker and copyeditor Beth Hadas, I’d probably still be wandering alone through a blazing SoCal desert without the possibility of publication. … For the record (and I touched upon this in my previous Sand Creek blog, John Smith, Chief Gordon Yellowman, and the Sand Creek Massacre) I am demanding. Chuck and the entire OU Press production staff, and this definitely included the art director Tony Roberts, dealt with me without revolting and insisting that I walk a pirate’s plank and drop into the Great White shark-infested waters off the coast of Los Angeles. Without OU Press’s entire staff Ned Wynkoop and the Lonely Road from Sand Creek would not have been what it became. I am forever grateful to everyone involved.

A few Ned Wynkoop reviews

Editor Greg Lalire (Wild West, April 2012): “Kraft . . . has produced the first full biography of an unusual fellow whose humanitarian stance toward Indians, empathy and ‘brave act of conscience’ made him, in the eyes of many, a villain or a traitor. … Certainly Wynkoop’s stance against the Sand Creek attack not only changed his life forever but also defines how he is remembered today. He had stepped beyond the accepted mores of the day and kept speaking his mind. Kraft compares Wynkoop to screen legend Errol Flynn, but Wynkoop’s life did not play out according to a Hollywood script. ‘Of course,’ writes Kraft, ‘Flynn’s humanity and his stand for justice always won out by the final reel of the film, whereas Wynkoop walked away from the pinnacle of this life knowing that he had failed.’”

Novelist and Editor Johnny Boggs (Roundup, April 2012): “Before he earned fame (or infamy among Indian-hating people in Colorado and Kansas) for speaking out against John Chivington’s massacre of Cheyennes at Sand Creek, Wynkoop led a colorful life … What’s the best way to fix the ‘Indian problem?’ Wynkoop was asked in 1868. ‘[T]o extend American citizenship to the Indians, and allow their representatives seats in Congress,’ he answered. No wonder he carried a gun [Boggs proclaimed]. This engaging, intelligent and well-researched biography is also even-handed, showing the dark side of an early champion of Indian rights. One of the best biographies of a Western figure to come out in years.”

Historian R. Eli Paul (writing for True West, December 2011): “Louis Kraft’s special skill as a biographer is taking a figure from Western history—one whom the general public should know but does not—and telling the story of a meaningful, significant life. He did this expertly with Lt. Charles Gatewood of the Apache wars and now has repeated the feat with frontiersman Edward Wynkoop. In an American history that trumpets great ‘last stands,’ Wynkoop spoke out against the mistreatment of the Plains Indians and made his own stand of conscience, one to be studied, remembered and admired.”

Historian and novelist Thomas McNulty (writing for Dispatches from the Last Outlaw): “This is the third of Louis Kraft’s books that I have enjoyed, and I believe this book is a masterpiece. I am selective in my non-fiction reading choices, and for good reason. There is so much available that is unreadable, if not incomprehensible, and from all of the New York publishers. History sells, and it has always outsold fiction ten to one. This is a historical fact. But the market is glutted with unreadable biographies. What really matters is a love for the topic. That, my friends, is a rarity among historians and biographers these days. Louis Kraft does not fall into that category. He cares very much about Ned Wynkoop, and his passion for his subject is evident on every page. … Although I have studied American western history at leisure, I had only a smidgen of knowledge about Ned Wynkoop. Thanks to Mr. Kraft, I am now enlightened, and immediately grateful. Wynkoop is fascinating, his story compelling, his era unlike anything we had seen before or since.”

Working as a biographer to create the Sand Creek manuscript

I have no clue what your current views are of what will perhaps be the most important book that I ever write, Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway. … I am deeply connected with my book projects and the focus is always on people and their actions. This does not mean that I research or write with a preconceived bias for I don’t. As I have written in the past: I think that just about everyone I know, have known, or have written about think that they were right when they did what they did. This view will never change.

Louis Kraft coming in from the light. Photo by Glen Williams (Image © Williams & Kraft 2012)

This image shows what I’m trying to say here. Mainly that until I have found what I need to propel the story of Sand Creek to conclusion it is a lonely path as I struggle to find and assemble the actions and facts that will allow me to complete the manuscript. Photo by Glen Williams. (image © Louis Kraft & Glen Williams 2012)

Our actions define us, and actions can and at times do include what we say. Documenting only the good in a person’s life makes them one-dimensional and unrealistic. Everyone does things that they later regret. Certainly I have. I know that I’ve hurt people, and I have been hurt by people. This doesn’t make me bad or them bad. It simply means that something happened. It adds dimension to a life and gives it color. Without color—that is the ups and downs, the good and the bad—a life becomes boring. Making a life worth knowing (and perhaps studying) requires multiple shades of color.

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This photo by Glen Williams also deals with the search for a nugget that can perhaps become a piece of the puzzle. (image © Louis Kraft & Glen Williams 2012)

Do not doubt that the 1860s were a time of aggression and war, a time of hatred and butchery, and a time of fear. The Sand Creek manuscript is about people whose color, race, and religions were different. It is about people in conflict as they deal with the events that led up to an attack on a Cheyenne-Arapaho village populated by people that thought the U.S. military promised their safety until the U.S. government decided their future. It is also about the attack and the aftermath.  If I do my job as a writer-historian you will walk with the leading players as they did what they thought right. What happened on November 29, 1864, affected a lot of people at that time, it has affected a lot of people since 1864, and it has affected me for decades. A writer-historian should never judge the people he or she writes about for this is for the reader to decide.

Chuck Rankin and a major announcement

I want to say something and I also want to make it absolutely clear by repeating myself. Chuck Rankin became my friend long before I ever became attached to the University of Oklahoma Press. Back in time when I wrote for publishers other than OU Press he didn’t shun me. No. Instead he talked with me, shared information with me, befriended me. He did what he could to aid my second Gatewood/Apache book see publication even though it would not be with OU Press. His kindness went far beyond friendship.

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This is Chuck Rankin, my good friend and great editor. All I can say here is that without Chuck my writing life and world would have suffered. I’m lucky to know him and look forward to our relationship as it moves into our future. (art © Louis Kraft 2016)

Our working relationship began in the early part of this century and over time led to the Ned Wynkoop and then the Sand Creek contracts. Chuck has supported my work and effort every step of the way.

But … BUT …

Years pass and life changes. Several months ago Chuck Rankin retired as editor-in-chief at OU Press (effective 31dec2016).

When I heard the news I was shocked and concerned, as he has been the driving force behind my Sand Creek manuscript. This began years back when he pitched me to write the book about the 1864 attack on the Sand Creek village. I had said no, that I don’t write about battles. Chuck immediately made it clear that the book would not focus on the battle; rather it should focus on the lead-up to the attack, the attack, and the aftermath. I hesitated, thinking that this wasn’t a project for me. … Our conversation continued, and a year and then another passed. FinalIy I pushed for writing a manuscript driven by peoples’ actions. Eventually Chuck and I agreed on a storyline. Next came the written proposal and this in itself was a project (the final draft was 37 pages long) but it defined what I needed to do to create a manuscript that had value.

When I spoke to Chuck about his retirement he let me know that he had worked out a deal with the press that would allow him to continue working with selected projects. Best, he made it clear that he was behind Sand Creek and the Tragic End of a Lifeway one hundred percent and would see it through to completion.

I can’t begin to tell you how thrilled I am. Thank you Chuck from the bottom of my heart.