A last stand didn’t mean that the person subjected to the stand had to die, I supposed. I looked to the modern era and examined the curious case of Ted Kaczynski, the so-called Unabomber, for the final of this series of final stands. His last stand happened at an isolated cabin in the wilderness, ending more with a whimper than a bang. A critical mistake made by the overconfident evil genius led to his ruin.
Before the Bombings
Kaczynski didn’t like modern technology and he blamed it for the ills of society. He lived according to his practices, moving to a one-room cabin completely lacking any amenities in rural Montana, preferring the world of a hermit. He demonstrated remarkable intelligence in spite of his lack of social skills. Kaczynski entered Harvard University at the age of 16 and became an assistant professor at the University of California, Berkeley by the time he turned 25. That lasted only a couple of years and he moved to his cabin in 1971, not yet 30 years old. He didn’t fit in well with society.
A Terrible Turn of Events
His reclusive behavior seemed unusual although it remained legally acceptable. He was simply another loner who preferred a life of solitude. However his distaste for the modern world progressed to a deadlier level. He began to craft homemade bombs that he delivered or mailed to technologists at universities and research facilities. He also managed to slip a bomb onto a passenger jet that would have taken it down except that the device started smoking and failed to detonate. Federal agencies searching for a suspect used the code name UNABOM for University and Airline Bomber. The press changed it to Unabomber.
Kaczynski’s terrorist acts continued for many years, from 1978 to 1995. They involved sixteen separate bombs, three deaths and a score of injuries. His spree could have lasted indefinitely except that Kaczynski actually wanted to change the world. He drafted a rambling manifesto condemning the failings of modern society. Kaczynski said that he would halt the bombings if major news organizations published his beliefs verbatim. Federal officials convinced both the New York Times and the Washington Post to print the document, a hugely controversial decision at the time. They hoped someone might recognize its distinct writing style and turn-in the bomber. That’s exactly what happened. Linda Patrik, Ted’s sister-in-law, had a suspension and convinced her husband David to take a look. David Kaczynski was Ted’s brother and noticed an immediate similarity. That was the break the case need and the FBI arrested Ted Kaczynski at his mountainside cabin.
Twelve Mile Circle couldn’t identify the exact spot of the cabin where the last stand took place. It happened somewhere several miles south of Lincoln, Montana (map). The property was for sale as recently as 2010 however, so I’m sure someone could find the spot without too much effort. It wouldn’t do much good because the cabin was removed. The FBI took it away and loaned it to the Newseum in Washington, DC (map) where it became part of an exhibit.
I recently received a page from the Washington Post, June 19, 2008, page A9. This comprises a full-page, full-color advertisement that features my cabin, which is being exhibited publicly at something called a ‘Newseum,’ … Since the advertisement states that the cabin is ‘FROM FBI VAULT,’ it is clear that the government is responsible for the public exhibition of the cabin. This has obvious relevance to the victims’ objection to publicity connected with the Unabom case.
Ted’s New Home
Ted’s still very much alive even now, so many years later. A judge sentenced him to eight life terms in prison without the possibility of parole. He currently spends his days at the federal Administrative Maximum Facility (ADX) in Florence, Colorado (map). Authorities designed this prison for the worst of the worst criminals, with restrictions a level beyond maximum security, a so-called supermax facility. Here Ted will remain with other notorious villains such as Eric Rudolph (Olympic Park bomber), Zacarias Moussaoui (helped plan the 9-11 attacks on the World Trace Center and the Pentagon), Dzhokhar Tsarnaev (Boston Marathon bomber), Terry Nichols (Oklahoma City Federal Building bomber); and Robert Hanssen (notorious spy for the Soviet Union) until he dies. ADX will truly become Kaczynski’s final last stand.
John Wilkes Booth‘s last stand was by no means the only infamous last stand. It got me thinking about a wide range of other events from the last couple of hundred years that might fall within the same general guidelines. Last stands happened in many places in many times. I selected a few from the multitude of instances available and fixated on them. Custer’s Last Stand, well, that would practically be synonymous with the definition of a last stand. In fact that was the first thing that popped into my mind as I expanded past Booth. Undoubtedly that notion would be the same for much of the Twelve Mile Circle audience. I couldn’t simply skip it — that would be a glaring omission — so George Armstrong Custer needed a closer examination.
The spot where Custer died, the place of his last stand, was considerably better known than his birthplace. I figured I’d have a difficult time finding it because I didn’t think anyone would really care except for maybe me and a handful of other people fascinated by such things. I guessed wrong. People apparently did care. In fact I even found a Custer Memorial Association in New Rumley, Ohio, at Custer’s 1839 birthplace. They operated a small museum "open the last Sunday of each month from 1:00 to 4:00pm." They also maintained a roadside park open year round on the site of the original Custer homestead, of which little remained except for the foundation of the house where he was born (map).
However Custer spent much of his childhood in Monroe, Michigan, with the family of his half-sister.
The people of Monroe erected a monument to Custer after his death (map). He probably got a monument everywhere he ever set foot, or so it seemed, although some hadn’t fared well. Even the citizens of Monroe, a place where he spent much of his childhood, relocated the monument a bunch of times including sticking it out in the woods where vegetation overgrew it, before moving the statue to a more prominent part of town. Officially it was known as the George Armstrong Custer Equestrian Monument, alternately Sighting the Enemy.
Famously, Custer finished last in his class at the United States Military Academy at West Point, New York. However it was 1861, the Civil War was just underway, and the military needed officers in a hurry so they pressed him into service anyway. He performed remarkably well once in a combat role.
Throughout the war Custer continued to distinguishing himself as fearless, aggressive, and ostentatious. His personalized uniform style, complete with a red neckerchief could be somewhat alienating, but he was successful in gaining the respect of his men with his willingness to lead attacks from the front rather than the back.
Custer quickly moved up the ranks, becoming brigadier general then brevet major general of the U.S. Army and finally major general of the U.S. Volunteers in quick succession. He was only 23 years old when he first became a general, the youngest in the army. Custer also served the entire lengthy of the conflict, from Bull Run to Appomattox. At Gettysburg, he commanded the Michigan Cavalry Brigade that was instrumental in stopping a Confederate cavalry attack on the Union army’s right flank. He got a nice monument for that too. Actually, the entire Michigan Cavalry Brigade earned the monument although Custer’s image appeared in a circular bas-relief sculpture just about half way up (map).
I mentioned all of that service because people tended to overlook his distinguished career and skip right to the ending.
Twelve Mile Circle is not a history website so I’ll only discuss the Last Stand briefly. There were plenty of other places on the Intertubes, or even entire books, where one could get a better account. Custer died on the battlefield near Montana’s Little Bighorn River in 1876 (map). The United States Army had a rule-of-thumb, naming battles for the nearest body of water during that period (e.g., the Civil War’s Battle of Bull Run and Battle of Antietam) so the engagement came to be known as the Battle of Little Bighorn.
The situation leading up to it brewed for a long time. The government had been forcing Plains Indians onto reservations for awhile by that point. Various elements of the Lakota and Cheyenne resisted fiercely, sparking a whole chain of events known as the Sioux Wars. The final outrage in the eyes of native inhabitants had been a sudden incursion of settlers into the Black Hills of what is now South Dakota. The Sioux considered this a sacred area that had been promised to them in a treaty. That quickly collapsed after word leaked out about gold found in the area. Many bands, fed up with broken promises, left the reservations in an effort to fight for their ancestral lands.
The government began a protracted, coordinated campaign to crush resistance. Custer hadn’t gone out there alone, he simple commanded one force amongst several crossing the plains from late 1875 and into the first half of 1876 trying to tame the rebellion. However Custer made a huge blunder. His aggressive personality that served him well during the Civil War compelled him to rush headlong into battle without understanding the true situation at Little Bighorn.
He thought he was attacking a small encampment. Instead he led 700 men from the 7th Cavalry Regiment headlong into a force three times its size. Sitting Bull’s forces quickly turned the tables and utterly destroyed Custer and his men in less than an hour. Casualties also included Custer’s two brother, Thomas and Boston. Later historical accounts by members of the tribes expressed complete bewilderment that Custer would attack them when they were so strong.
I came home sooner than I would have wanted, the journey over, a feeling that always seemed to settle upon me after a trek through hidden rural corners. I decompressed and began to process a trove of memories, sharing many of them with the Twelve Mile Circle audience. Some of those thoughts didn’t fit neatly into bundles so I collected them into their own indiscriminate pile.
By now I’m sure everyone figured out that I finally got to see Steve from CTMQ in person again. We met for dinner at a well-regarded restaurant, Millwright’s in Simsbury, Connecticut (map). We caught-up on a lot of things since our epic Connecticut Road Trip of years ago and swapped a couple of rare bottles of craft beer to enjoy later.
Go read Steve’s blog. His writing and insight is much better than mine.
Reader "Joel" sent a message last March about a place he’d seen on a map of Northfield, Massachusetts. It was called Satan’s Kingdom. Indeed it was a real place and clearly included in the US Geological Survey’s Geographic Names Information System. There was even a Satan’s Kingdom Wildlife Management Area with a nice trail that followed "an old logging road from Old Vernon Rd. to the top of the ridge" with a "view of the valley."
I tried my hardest to find the history of Satan’s Kingdom and how it earned its devilish name. The only real source I saw, such as it was, came from a segment aired on a local television station. A person who worked at the wildlife management area explained that the name traced back to colonial times. It wasn’t meant to reference anything truly satanic, rather it served as a warning to people long ago that they needed to be careful in an uncharted area. There might be hostile animals or other dangers. That explanation seemed a lot more plausible than legends of demons roaming the dark woods as I bet circulated around Northfield.
Of course I had to visit Satan’s Kingdom and sift through the evidence firsthand. First I had to find it. I’d seen photographs on the Intertubes although nobody specified the exact location. I took an educated guess and picked the right spot. It was time for me to do my good deed for the day — the sign was at the trailhead, specifically at latitude/longitude 42.705583,-72.492348. You’re welcome. Tell Beelzebub I said hello.
Well, at least I didn’t dedicate an entire article to brewery visits this time like I’ve done before. My philosophy remained the same, that I needed to eat somewhere so it might as well be a place with decent beer. I visited ten breweries and/or brewpubs during the excursion, all but Harpoon for the first time.
The five bronze sculptures include Dr. Seuss busily working at his drawing board with the Cat in the Hat standing at his side as his muse, and lots of other favorite Dr. Seuss characters such as Horton the Elephant, Yertle the Turtle, the Grinch and his dog Max, the Lorax, Gertrude McFuzz, Things One and Two, and the lovable Thidwick the Moose.
The official website for the sculpture garden then went on to explain,
Theodor Seuss Geisel was born on Howard Street in Springfield in 1904 and grew up on Fairfield Street in the city’s Forest Park neighborhood. His father was a parks commissioner and was in charge of the Forest ParkZoo, a regular playground for young Theodor Geisel. Springfield imagery can be seen throughout his work in the names of streets, the drawings of buildings, the names of his characters, and numerous other references.
It’s been a long time since I read any Dr. Seuss tales although I remembered all of his characters fondly. The sculpture garden brought back a flood of pleasant memories from childhood. Someday I’ll have to see if I can find any of those Springfield references. There must have been some pretty odd places in town if buildings in Springfield influenced the architecture of Dr. Seuss books.
Oh Yeh, Natural Beauty
My whirlwind tour did little justice to an appreciation of the natural beauty of New England. We drove from race-to-race, touring each afternoon as we could, then going to bed tired and early so we would be ready for the next race starting at 6:00 am. That didn’t give us nearly enough time to really dig in and enjoy all that the scenery had to offer. Everything was a quick drive-by, a blur. Still, beauty sometimes appeared unexpectedly; a mountain view from a highway, a small town set deep within a hollow, a stream flowing through forest. The races were all held in very rural locations and sometimes the terrain provided wonderful backdrops, like these rapids in Vermont (map). I don’t think most of the runners noticed it though.