Strange news. Today when I went to check the mail I found a curiously nondescript package waiting. Once the padded envelope passed the taste test and allayed any fears of an anthrax attack I brought it inside. A frontier, generally defined, is the outlying territory of a proscribed state, region, or otherwise defined geographical body. In popular thought it entails a chunk of territory nominally under the governance of a specified body, with varying degrees of control and perhaps limited enforcement of law or delivery of services by the aforementioned.
In American culture, the frontier is often understood to mean anything west of the edge of civilization roughly from the time of first settlements along the Atlantic coast up to approximately the turning of the 20th century. Essentially, we're looking at a ballpark figure of, say 1600 to 1900 A.D. The initial understanding of the frontier would have been anything beyond a few miles inland, moving further in time to be marked by the Appalachian range, the tropical southeast, the Great Plains, the arid southwest, the Rockies and, ultimately, the Pacific Ocean and points east. Admittedly by my definition this could include later United States ventures in the Orient, but in the circles I frequent I have never once heard of America's adventures and misadventures in the Far East falling under the purview of the frontier, so I'll omit those references for the time being.
So.
That leaves us the idea of the frontier on the North American continent as it pertains to the westward expansion of immigrants from northern and western Europe. Yes, I am Whitey. Fish-belly Whitey unless I spend too much time in the sun. I am neither Hispanic nor African nor Asian nor American Indian to any appreciable degree, so I'll leave those viewpoints to others better prepared and qualified to discuss them in any detail. I'm also aware that what the majority of Europeans and newly-minted Americans viewed as westward expansion translates to an incursion as far as some of the preceding are concerned. If you feel compelled to discuss some of the finer points - hey, I've got a comment button at the bottom of the post. Feel free to add your two bits.
Now - on to the point.
Westward expansion began in fits and starts. With the earliest colonials on the east coast counting themselves as citizens of their respective home states and remaining largely dependent on the same, civilization on the continent generally remained small and isolated near the shore, particularly in close proximity to ports and harbors through which the colonies could receive supplies, military aid, and new settlers. Time and the natural growth of colonies would send hopefuls - both native-born and newly immigrated - further west.
Not until after the American revolution did the continent see any form of organized exploration. This came in the form of the Lewis & Clark expedition (1804 - 1806) a federally commissioned survey dispatched with the aim of evaluating the territories recently acquired from France (via Napoleon Bonaparte) in the Louisiana Purchase. The primary goal of the expedition was threefold: chart the and ascertain the navigability of waterways of the Pacific Northwest, primarily but not limited to the Missouri River; make record of European presence and the threat of later intervention in American affairs; and determine the availability of natural resources and the suitability of the territory for future settlement.
Unsurprisingly, the findings of the party raised considerable interest both government and private. Thus began the first widespread movement of Americans from the original colonies. Cities soon after grew up along the Mississippi River and the Great Lakes. Further gains were made in 1818 with the fledgling United States' picking up the area surrounding the Red River (which comprises, partially, the present-day border between Texas, Oklahoma, and Louisiana) through a treaty with the British. A year later, some of this new claim was traded away to the Spanish in exchange for Florida.
The next large scale acquisition came in 1845 with the admission of Texas - lately having revolted against Mexican rule - into the Union. The annexation would provide an initial gain of lands claimed by the Texans in addition starting anew war with Mexico. At the close of the Mexican-American War (1845-1847) a victorious United States paid for a sizable tract above what would become the familiar U.S. - Mexico border. Some six years later, the Gadsden Purchase brought the boundary to its present location. This was chiefly to a facilitate the construction of a transcontinental rail line, initially planned much further south than was eventually completed.
In the interim, the California gold strike at Sutter's Mill lured more Americans west still. Several hundred thousand went west. Roughly half reached the gold fields by sea, remaining shipboard the better part of a year. The rest went overland, crossing the Rocky Mountains on foot or by wagon. By 1855 the rush had subsided and migration dropped, spiking briefly in 1859 with the Pike's Peak gold rush. The numbers would not rise again until the close of the American Civil War (1861 - 1865) when America once again turned west, following the newly laid tracks of the Union Pacific. In 1869 they met the rails of the Central Pacific in Utah, and four years after close of hostilities a man could take the railroad from ocean to the other.
Thus the wave of desperate, displaced, and hopeful - former soldiers, prospectors, and businessmen - left the cities of the north and the ruins of Dixie for a new and better life. The west of the day offered a new start, new opportunities. A man with nothing could build for himself a good honest living. Or a dishonest one, were he so inclined. This became the era of that springs to mind at the mention of the American frontier; the rough, wild years before law and civilization fully caught up with settlements between the Mississippi and the slopes of the Rockies. The age of the self-made man, the cattleman, the gunfighter, the outlaw, and the iron lawman as related through movies, books, and television.
By the middle 1880s the era was winding down, and by the early years of the 20th century the majority of the land was fenced off, the native tribes that harried settlers mostly killed off or confined to reservations, the buffalo gone, and law and order firmly entrenched. The age of the gold rush and gunfighter passed into dime novels and television serials.
Now. Why do I make a point of all this? Why throw all this out there in its condensed form, especially when you can find all this information - and considerably more - better organized and more eloquently put elsewhere?
Well, because I've been thinking. I've been pondering on the meaning of the frontier - what it was, how we view it, and how - for the most - we no longer have anything comparable.
I believe we're lesser for the fact.
To illustrate my point, I'd like to bring up to arguments I've gotten on the matter. The most vocal of the two claims that space is a viable frontier (lots of Star Trek fans I have, I suppose). Another faction, less represented, tells me the same of the oceans. To both of those I'll concede they have the makings, but I'll counter that it's not the same.
A classic frontier is about as egalitarian as you can get. It's open to everybody, regardless of language, blood, education, or political bearing. To my way of thinking a frontier is something open to the common man, something he doesn't have to pay to experience. Something that doesn't require he present a degree or a paycheck stub or anything so commonplace as a driver's license. To be a part - to stake his place in the world - all he needs is legs to take him there.
Now there's some great innovations come out of both the space programs and undersea exploration. At one point in my childhood I was certain I'd grow up to be an oceanographer or a marine archaeologist or something similar. I can't claim as strong an enthusiasm for the stars as I hold for the deep, but in either case it's a moot point; nobody's getting into that line of work unless you're A) a college graduate working for a given institution, or B) independently wealthy to the point that nobody cares how smart you are.
That means, regrettably, that short of a lifelong commitment most of us will never see Earth from orbit . We'll never see firsthand the things that live and lie on the floors of the world's oceans. That right there tells me that neither can be called a frontier. A field of study, yes. An exotic playground for the privileged few, certainly. For the rest - something that can only be experienced secondhand.
A true frontier offers a challenge for all who accept. It offers adventure for the willing, fortune for the driven, and a second chance for the destitute. It allows a man indentured in earlier times to be master of himself and his own livelihood. It acts as a safety valve for society at large, siphoning off those that don't feel compelled to play by the rules of civilization. You don't need formal education. Wits, yes. A college degree - hell, a high school diploma - markedly less so.
I believe that with the end of the frontier, with the loss of unsettled and lawless places the world over, mankind has begun the slide into a kind of dulled servitude. You go out - you get a job - you work it until you die. You don't need to explore. There's nothing LEFT to explore. Wherever you may go society has already been, leaving you nothing but the same constricting bars as and padded corners as the drab city you left. America has become homogenized to the point of its junk food. The hamburger you buy in Tennessee is the same you buy in Colorado and New York.
Nowadays a man can be born into that same life of slavery. Unlike his forebears a century before, he can't escape. There's no escape left to him. No mountains to which he can flee, no river he can cross, no land where he can be his own man. He can be a company wage slave or he can starve. Presuming he makes it to retirement, he may find that the men for whom he traded large chunks of his life have lied and cut him loose with a fraction of his promised benefits because, alas, once he stops working he ceases to be useful. They may then sleep soundly at night believing themselves shrewd and sound businessmen.
They don't need the frontier. They never have. The frontier is of no real use to kings or lords or dictators.
The frontier is the domain of the free man.
Lord, how I sometimes hate the modern world.
