Some Bits of Wisdom From the ‘King of the Wild Frontier’

The legendary exploits of Davy Crockett are rooted firmly in American values

Davy Crockett is still famous for his exploits, from frontier adventures to his last stand at the Alamo. Detail, portrait of David Crockett by Chester Harding Photo by Barney Burstein/Corbis/VCG via Getty Images

“Born on a mountain top in Tennessee Greenest state in the land of the free Raised in the woods so he knew every tree Kilt him a b'ar when he was only three Davy, Davy Crockett, king of the wild frontier.”

Sixty years ago, every kid in my neighborhood knew those words to “The Ballad of Davy Crockett.” In the mid-1950s, Walt Disney and his studio released five television episodes about that Tennessee frontiersman starring Fess Parker, who also sang the theme song. Two movies made from those shows quickly followed, rejuvenating Davy Crockett’s reputation and making Mr. Parker a star.

The fascination with Crockett spilled out of the theaters and into U.S. retailing. Besides the coonskin caps worn by boys in emulation of their hero, Disney licensed more than 300 retail products, from bubble gum cards to toy guns, from pillows and sheets to pajamas. As cultural historian Paul Hutton relates in his 1986 article “Davy Crockett, Still King of the Wild Frontier,” this craze for all things Crockett was such that “a Boston store owner stuck with three thousand pairs of unsold moccasins labeled them Davy Crockett moccasins and sold them in a week.”

The real Crockett once claimed that he had beguiled a coon out of a tree just by grinning at it. If his spirit was looking down on all this 1950s hoopla surrounding his deed and legends, this 19th-century celebrity was doubtless grinning just as big as he did in that tall tale.

A Snapshot of the Man

David Crockett (1786–1836) grew up in a large family in the rough-and-tumble life of frontier Tennessee. Fearing a whipping from his father for skipping school—he’d beaten up a bully and was afraid to resume the classes he’d only just started—at age 13, Crockett ran away from home and for more than two years worked a series of jobs before returning to his family. He became a skilled hunter, married young, fought in the Creek War (1813–1814) under then-Gen. Andrew Jackson, remarried after his beloved Polly died, and entered politics. His upbringing, growing fame, humor, and common sense eventually won him a seat in Congress. Defeated in a later election in 1835, he headed to Texas looking for land and a new beginning, and died at the Alamo.

Already a celebrity, in 1834, Crockett issued his “Narrative of the Life of David Crockett, of the State of Tennessee,” which he wrote, as he states in the preface, to shed some truth on the stories being told about him and to give readers “a plain, honest, homespun account“ of his ”state in life.” This autobiography, which fired up even greater public interest in the man, is invaluable as a piece of history, its depiction of frontier life, the amusement it has provided for readers ever since, and its insights into the American spirit of the time.

It also has some lessons for us if we’re willing to sit in this one-man classroom.

The Price of Principles

A portrait of Davy Crockett, 1889, by William Henry Huddle. Dallas Museum of Art. Public domain

Andrew Jackson’s 1830 Indian Removal Act called for the removal of Indian tribes from Southern states to territories west of the Mississippi, opening up more land for settlers. This displacement resulted in a large number of deaths among Native Americans and is today remembered as the “Trail of Tears.” It remains a blot on U.S. history.

At great cost to his political career, Crockett spoke out loudly against this radical measure. He was warned by his colleagues that he was ruining himself, and he wrote, “I told them I believed it was a wicked, unjust measure, and that I should go against it, let the cost to myself be what it might ... I voted against this Indian bill, and my conscience yet tells me that I gave a good honest vote, and one that I believe will not make me ashamed on the day of judgment.”

That stand added to the enmity between Jackson and Crockett, and Crockett lost his next election, largely because his constituents supported the Removal Act. Nonetheless, he never showed regret for taking the hard road and obeying his conscience.

At the very beginning of “Narrative,” Crockett shares one of the guiding mottos of his life: “I leave this rule for others when I’m dead, Be always sure you’re right—THEN GO AHEAD!” This “rule” calls us to stand up for what we believe, while Crockett’s opposition to the Indian Removal Act reminds us that honoring our principles may come with a cost.

Fighting Fear and Hate

Like the social media cancellations of our day, 19th-century newspapers and circulars could savage those who swam against the tide of opinion, and Crockett proved no exception.

He notes in his “Narrative” of his opposition to Jackson: “This was considered the unpardonable sin. I was hunted down like a wild varment, and in this hunt every little newspaper in the district, and every little pin-hook lawyer was engaged. Indeed, they were ready to print any and every thing that the ingenuity of man could invent against me ... Every one of these little papers kept up a constant war on me, fighting with every scurrilous report they could catch.”

But Crockett refused to buckle to these attacks. Later in his “Narrative,” he describes being reelected to the office he had lost and then concludes: “I am at liberty to vote as my conscience and judgment dictates to be right, without the yoke of any party on me, or the driver at my heels, with his whip in hand, commanding me to ge-wo-haw, just at his pleasure. Look at my arms, you will find no party hand-cuff on them! Look at my neck, you will not find there any collar, with the engraving ‘MY DOG.’”

Some victims of today’s cyber mobs have discovered that to offer an apology or ask for forgiveness not only spurs on their attackers, but is a betrayal of truth and character. Crockett teaches us to hold firm without apology when principles are at stake.

Kindness, Respect, Humor, and an Independent Spirit

In his book, Crockett devotes a few lines to “a very severe misfortune,” a flood that destroyed his grist mill and distillery, the center of his modest wealth at the time, and left him with some debt. After a brief description of this change of fortune, which he offers almost apologetically to the reader, he notes his few remaining resources, then adds:

“Best of all, I had an honest wife. She didn’t advise me, as is too fashionable, to smuggle up this, and that, and t'other, to go on at home; but she told me, says she, ‘Just pay up, as long as you have a bit’s worth in the world; and then every body will be satisfied, and we will scuffle for more.’ This was just such talk as I wanted to hear, for a man’s wife can hold him devlish uneasy, if she begins to scold, and fret, and perplex him, at a time when he has a full load for a rail-road car on his mind already.”

The qualities Crockett admires in his wife—honesty, loyalty, integrity—shine also in him. “Narrative” is the self-portrait of a good man, a man whose company we likely would have enjoyed, who loves and protects his family, and who shows gratitude for favors done for him by others. “I reckon nobody in this world loves a friend better than me,” Davy Crockett says, “or remembers a kindness longer.” Even today, he embodies the American ideals of responsibility, hard work, and fighting through adversity, often with a dose of laughter to ease the pain.

At one point, Crockett writes, “Let your tongue speak what your heart thinks.” Here we might note that he uses the word “thinks” rather than “feels.” Passions balanced by common sense and reason—perhaps that’s the most profound lesson offered in this autobiography.

Which is a goal worthy of our own ambitions.