The Ungodly

"In the year 1846," The Ungodly begins, "men took their families west to California and a new life. The families of the Donner Party went among them." Received with critical acclaim and long out of print, this first novel of the infamous covered-wagon pioneers who were caught in the high Sierra by early snow and forced eventually to eat their dead to survive is a scrupulously accurate reconstruction of their ordeal."Certainly [Rhodes] has created an atmosphere as stark and gloomy as an old graveyard in an abandoned town. And certainly he has made a replica of the American past that often sets us pondering the American present. But somehow none of these points quite does justice to this strange, accomplished book. So let me just admit that it is a grim, unpleasant story--a 'hard, hard case,' as the narrator sighs while describing the ghoulish sights that greeted the relief parties. But unpleasant as it is, it is also beautiful. And one keeps reading it." — CHRISTOPHER LEHMANN-HAUPT, New York Times.

a 'hard hard case,' as the narrator sighs while describing the ghoulish sights that greeted the relief parties. But unpleasant as it is, it is also beautiful. And one keeps reading it." -- New York Times

*****Praise for the Hardcover Edition*****"Certainly [Rhodes] has created an atmosphere as stark and gloomy as an old graveyard in an abandoned town. And certainly he has made a replica of the American past that often sets us to pondering the American present. But somehow none of these points quite does justice to this strange, accomplished book. So let me just admit that it is a grim, unpleasant story

From the Inside Flap

In 1846 several hundred wagons set out from Independence, Missouri, to follow the California Trail nearly 2,000 miles across unpopulated prairies, up sluggish and seemingly endless rivers, and through the Rocky Mountains over the Continental Divide. There, where the water flowed west to the far Pacific, the more prudent emigrants swung north through present-day Idaho, though that was the longer way west. One group, the Donner Party, braver or more foolhardy than the rest, chose an untried route that would shorten the distance. It did. It also subjected them to obstacles so formidable that it cost many of them their lives. Yet it preserved their names and the story of their travail down through history-crowded years. No work of fiction has rendered this remarkable epic of ordeal with more vividness and power than Richard Rhodes’s novel of the Donner Party, The Ungodly.Upon its initial printing in 1973, Rhodes’s masterful tale was praised for its realistic and gripping depiction of the struggles faced by that ill-fated group of men, women, and children. Now, more than thirty years later, Stanford University Press has reissued this harrowing and haunting novel. The Ungodly is an unforgettable story of terrible hardship and awesome courage—a story that increases our understanding of what kind of people made this nation and what a full and immeasurable price they paid.

From the Back Cover

*****Praise for the Hardcover Edition*****“Certainly [Rhodes] has created an atmosphere as stark and gloomy as an old graveyard in an abandoned town. And certainly he has made a replica of the American past that often sets us to pondering the American present. But somehow none of these points quite does justice to this strange, accomplished book. So let me just admit that it is a grim, unpleasant story—a ‘hard hard case,’ as the narrator sighs while describing the ghoulish sights that greeted the relief parties. But unpleasant as it is, it is also beautiful. And one keeps reading it.” —New York Times

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

THE UNGODLYA NOVEL OF THE DONNER PARTY By RICHARD RHODESStanford University PressCopyright © 2007 Richard RhodesAll right reserved.ISBN: 978-0-8047-5641-9Chapter OneTHE TRAIL 1846 In the year 1846 men took their families west to California and a new life. The families of the Donner party went among them. George Donner's advertisement for teamsters appeared twice in the Sangamo Journal of Springfield, Illinois. Once on March 26 and once on April 12, just three days before the Donners expected to leave. WESTWARD HO! For Oregon and California. Who wants to go to California without costing them anything? As many as eight young men, of good character, who can drive an ox team, will be accommodated by gentlemen who will leave this vicinity about the middle of April. Come on Boys. You can have as much land as you want without costing you anything. The Government of California gives large tracts of land to persons who move there. The first suitable persons who apply will be engaged. George Donner and others. April 15 Sangamon County, Illinois. Two Germans named Reinhardt and Spitzer signed on. Three local boys, Noah James and Sam Shoemaker and Hiram Miller. An Englishman, John Denton, a gunsmith from Sheffield. George Donner and his brother Jacob figured they could find more help in Independence. George could handle some of the work in the meantime. He was a big man who still at 62 had all his strength. Jacob was 65 and ailing but he'd get along. They were each taking 3 wagons and goodly herds of cattle and kine. They had money. George made $10,000 selling a piece of land he owned in Chicago. He sold one of his farms too and left the others to his grown sons who were staying behind. George was a traveled man. He'd even been to Texas once. Moving west was nothing new. Most folks had moved before. It was something in the blood. Their pappies had done it. They could do it too. California seemed like a good place to go. Colonel Fremont commended it in his Report, just published. The traveler Lansford W. Hastings claimed in his new book The Emigrant's Guide to Oregon and California that December in California was as pleasant as May. California needed Americans. Drive the goddamned English out of Oregon and the goddamned Mexicans out of California. God's country and the rightful property of the U.S. of A. But that wasn't the all of it. A man got old just sitting around. The old folks'd had land no white man had ever turned before. Sycamore trees big as barns and deer thick as rich men's droves and corn taller than the cabin. Nothing else but new land was good enough for them and what was good enough for them was damned well good enough for you. In America a man could have just as much as he had guts enough to take and California was there for the taking. He'd better take it, too, before the lawyers and the politicians had time to flock around and peck the life away. George was working on his third wife. The best catch of them all. Tamsen Eustis had been her name. She was originally from Newburyport, Massachusetts. She'd been married once to a man named Tully Dozier down in North Carolina where she'd taught school. Bore him 2 children but lost children, husband and all to the cholera within the space of 3 weeks at Christmastime of 1831. She went back to Massachusetts for a time but then she came on out to Illinois to make a home for her brother's motherless children. Not many people anywhere in the States untouched by sickness. Life was precarious at best. That was a big reason for Oregon and California. Tamsen caught George Donner's fancy. She was tiny. Didn't even weigh 100 lb. 45 years old. Dignified as a Senator's wife but she had a twinkle in her eye. Leaving the homestead brought a few tears to family and friends. It looked like a parade with the 6 wagons and dogs and horses and children and teamsters and loose stock. All the Donner boys came over with their wives to see their fathers off. The oxen didn't act like they were much interested in the journey but the teamsters cracked their bullwhips and started them on. They were only going to Springfield the first day. With Tamsen and George Donner went Elitha, 14 Leanna, 12 George Donner's children by his second wife and Frances, 6 Georgia, 4 Eliza, 3 children of Tamsen and George. With Betsy and Jacob Donner went Solomon Hook, 14 Will Hook, 12 Betsy Donner's children by her first husband and George Jr., 9 Mary, 7 Isaac, 5 Sam, 4 Lewis, 3 children of Betsy and Jacob. Arrived Springfield late afternoon. Distance 2 1/2 miles. James Frazier Reed and his family were waiting for them. Jim Reed was 46. He also had outfitted 3 wagons for the journey, one of them a giant wagon with a stovepipe sticking out the top and stairs letting down from the sides. He had a bed made up inside for his mother-in-law, Mrs. Sarah Keyes, aged 70 years. The others all set up tents on the Springfield common. Reed came originally from Ireland. Was said to have the blood of Polish noblemen in him. Neighbors in Illinois named a town after him before he was 25. He'd sold a prosperous cabinet factory to get ready for the California emigration. Asked Senator Stephen A. Douglas to get him commissioned Agent to all the Indians west of the Rocky Mountains but the Little Giant couldn't bring it off. The Governor gave Reed a fine letter of recommendation though. Reed was a handsome man with a craggy face framed by a well-trimmed beard and curly black hair. He had considerable taste and expected to travel in style. His daughter Patty had named the giant wagon the Pioneer Palace Car. The inside of the Car was lined with cabinets and drawers put in by the men at the factory. Reed stocked whiskey and fine cigars in those compartments, spices and smoked meats and cheese and a store of powder and balls for hunting. He rode a thoroughbred gray, a mare he'd named Glaucus. She was a match for any horse at the Springfield track. What a crowd on the common. People were itching to move west. Not all that many had gone overland to California yet. The South Pass of the Rockies had been opened up to wagons only 5 years before and the pass through the California mountains only 2. Oregon was the more frequent destination but Lansford Hastings didn't speak well of Oregon. Rained a lot up there. California always had the sun. Margaret Reed was 32. Small and pretty. She wore her brown hair in braids down her back. Reed had married her a widow. Everyone who knew her liked her for her intelligence and her kindness. She suffered from painful migraines. Mrs. Keyes was her mother. Mrs. Keyes knew she wouldn't live to see California but she thought she might make it to Fort Hall on the other side of the Continental Divide. If the Lord was with her. Her son Caden might be at Fort Hall on his way back from Oregon. Virginia Reed was 13. She was Margaret Reed's daughter by her first husband, Mr. Backenstoe. Virginia adored her stepfather Reed and took on his name. She rode with him on her pony Billy. She was the only girl in the train to have a mount of her own. Reed had recruited his teamsters from among the boys at the factory. Milt Elliott had been a foreman and was head teamster now. Walt Herron drove the two regular wagons. Baylis Williams herded the cattle. He was a strange-looking boy, part albino. He couldn't see too well by day but he could see like an owl at night. His sister Eliza came along to cook and do. She was slow-headed and deaf as a post. Besides Virginia, the Reeds brought their three younger children Patty, 8 Jimmy, 5 Tommy, 3. Congressman Lincoln's wife was among those who came over during the evening to say goodbye to the Reeds and the Donners. The Springfield men gave Reed a bottle of brandy and told him to save it for the 4th of July. He was supposed to open it on the trail just at noon and look back toward Springfield. Think of old friends and cherished memories and drink a toast. April 16 The three families left Springfield for Independence, Missouri, on the old Berlin Road. Patty Reed sang as the wagons rolled out. Gramma Keyes smiled. Patty sang on in a pretty voice. Gramma Keyes first saw the light the same year they got up the Declaration of Independence. April 17-May 10 Followed the Berlin Road due west from Springfield. Crossed the Mississippi by ferry at Quincy, Illinois. Went down past Hannibal to St. Louis, than up the valley of the Missouri to Independence 6 miles south of the river. May 11 Independence Mo. May 11th 1846 To Mrs. Poor from Mrs. George Donner. My dear sister I commenced writing to you some months ago but the letter was laid aside to be finished the next day & was never touched. A nice sheet of pink letter paper was taken out & has got so much soiled that it cannot be written upon & now in the midst of preparation for starting across the mountains I am seated on the grass in the midst of the tent to say a few words to my dearest only sister. One would suppose that I loved her but little or I should have not neglected her so long, but I have heard from you by Mr. Greenleaf & every month have intended to write. My three daughters are round me one at my side trying to sew, Georgia Anna fixing herself up in an old indiarubber cap & Eliza Poor knocking on my paper & asking me ever so many questions. They often talk to me of Aunty Poor. I can give you no idea of the hurry of the place at this time. It is supposed there will be 7000 wagons start from this place this year. We go to California, to the bay of Francisco. It is a four months trip. We have three waggons furnished with food & clothing &c. drawn by three yoke of oxen each. We take cows along & milk & have some butter though not as much as we would like. I am willing to go & have no doubt it will be an advantage to our children & to us. I came here last evening & start tomorrow morning on the long journey. Wm's family was well when I left Springfield a month ago. He will write to you soon as he finds another home. He says he has received no answer to his last two letters, is about to start to Wisconsin as he considers Illinois unhealthy. Farewell, my sister, you shall hear from me as soon as I have an opportunity. Love to Mr. Poor, the children & all friends. Farewell. T. E. Donner Reed and the Donners didn't see any point in hanging around Independence in the mud the spring rains churned up. Mexicans and Indians roamed the streets. Santa Fe traders. Ox teams sold for $21.67 a yoke green broke just barely. The saloons were full of drunks and pissers. The main party for Oregon and California was already gone. The later you started the worse the grass. George Donner took on a man named Antoine to herd the loose cattle. May 12 The Donners and Reeds started for California in the early morning. They followed the Santa Fe trail southwest onto the Blue prairie. Rattlesnake-master and coneflower grew young and succulent. The lupine was in bloom and Indian paintbrush. The main party was said to be camped several days ahead waiting for the grass to get up. May 13 Prairie travel. 9 wagons. A drenching thunderstorm. May 14 Prairie travel. May 15 Prairie travel. Margaret Reed suffered one of her frequent migraines. May 16 Prairie travel. May 17 Sunday. Traveled nonetheless. May 18 Prairie travel. May 19 The Donners and Reeds pulled up to the main party of Oregon and California emigrants encamped on Soldier's Creek, a tributary of the Kansas River. Colonel William H. "Owl" Russell captained the main party. It included former Governor Lilburn Boggs of Missouri, the man who had driven the Mormons out of Missouri just the year before. Edwin Bryant, a man with medical training mach in demand among the wagons. Jesse Quinn Thornton, a journalist for Horace Greeley bound for Oregon with his invalid wife. A number of foreigners, mostly from Germany and Ireland. The men got together after supper and unanimously voted the Donners and the Reeds into the train. Jim Reed delivered the acceptance speech for them all. May 20 A drenching thunderstorm began at the nooning and forced an early encampment. Indians followed the train all day. Came begging into camp. Distance 8 miles. May 21 A glorious sunrise through clouds scudding low on the horizon. The train was blocked by a deep ravine. The men lowered the wagons into it and out of it with ropes. Another storm blew over in the afternoon. Lightning and thunder but little rain. Target-shooting after supper. May 22 Prairie travel. May 23 Prairie travel. May 24 Sunday. The Reverend Mr. Cornwall protested travel on the Sabbath. Jesse Thornton argued that the oxen would be better for a day of rest. The others disagreed. Prairie travel. May 25 A storm in midafternoon but the people anticipated it and had their tents up. A flood of rain and after the rain a matchless rainbow reaching unbroken from the southern to the northern horizon. Mercury at sunset 73 with an east wind. May 26 The party reached the bluff overlooking the junction of the Kansas and the Big Blue and found the Blue up 20 feet from spring flooding. The water at the ford ran 200 yards wide. No way to wheel across. The men voted to construct a raft. Thunderstorm at night. May 27 The Big Blue ran so turbulent still that Colonel Russell postponed work on the raft. Washing day in camp. Two men found a bee tree along the river and brought three buckets of wild honey into camp. Edwin Bryant picked wild peas and distributed them for canning. Mrs. Keyes failing. Unable to speak. Singing in camp. Pat Dolan, a bachelor Irishman traveling with the Patrick Breen family, got out his fiddle after supper and played some lively tunes. May 28 River fell 15 feet and Russell ordered work resumed on the raft. May 29 Mrs. Keyes died during the night with her daughter and her son-in-law and the 2 girls at her side. Everyone stopped work for the day in tribute. Some of the men made a cottonwood coffin and Margaret Reed and Tamsen Donner laid Mrs. Keyes in it gently in her best dress. She looked frail, her hair white as the tufts of cottonwood seed blown on the spring wind. Jim Smith and Walt Herron dug a grave at the foot of a majestic oak beside the trail. At 2 o'clock nearly everyone joined the funeral procession and the men carried the coffin to the grave. The Reverend Mr. Cornwall offered a prayer and after everyone sang a hymn he delivered the funeral sermon. He said Mrs. Keyes' death should remind them that they were put on earth to seek a better world beyond. Not Oregon or California he said but Paradise. After the sermon the men closed the grave and covered it carefully with the thick prairie sod. Wildflowers still bloomed from the sod. The women added more. The Englishman John Denton had cut a stone at Jim Reed's request. The men set the stone securely in place at the head of the grave. Mrs. Sarah Keyes DIED May 29, 1846 Aged 70 May 30 Finished the raft, two cottonwood canoes hooked together with planks. They christened her the Blue River Rover. Men on horseback fixed lines on the near shore and swam across and fixed them on the far shore. She was a jolly craft. Ferried 9 wagons across the river before dark. Nearly lost one though. May 31 Sunday. Men in the water all day ferrying the wagons over the Big Blue. Made some of them sick. They were about ready to listen to the Reverend Mr. Cornwall. 2 men took to fighting, fists first but then they drew knives and their friends had to break them up. Mercury at sunset 44. They got all the wagons across by 9 P.m. Distance 1 mile. June 1 The same men that fought yesterday fought again today. They disagreed about the ownership of a wagon and team. One owned the oxen, the other owned the wagon. The one that owned the oxen claimed the right to remove them from the wagon since he and its owner couldn't get along. The one that owned the wagon said the oxen were inalienable. A dead ox lying near the trail, left behind by one of the wagons ahead. Near the camp the graves of 2 children only 4 days buried. Distance 14 miles. June 2 The arguing got out of hand so the leaders called a camp meeting first thing in the morning. Since the men who were fighting over the oxen and wagon were going to Oregon, Colonel Russell proposed that all the Oregon people separate from the main train and form a train of their own. Then they could go on as they wanted and deal with the men however they thought best. The Oregon people took the challenge in good spirits and the motion carried by a unanimous vote. (Continues...) Excerpted from THE UNGODLYby RICHARD RHODES Copyright © 2007 by Richard Rhodes. Excerpted by permission. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

About the Author

Richard Rhodes is the Pulitzer Prize-winning author of The Making of the Atomic Bomb (1995), and, most recently, John James Audubon: The Making of an American Mind(2006).

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