Heaven only knows how many thousands of Indians fell, in film after film, to the accurate shooting of nice-looking young guys in sharp neckerchiefs.įrom 1840 to 1845, however, while the newspapers warned constantly of the Indian threat, not one white American was killed. Heaven only knows how many hard-driving, God-fearing migrants were attacked by Indians in Hollywood's re-creation of America's long, pioneering march. Indeed, history has been forced into hiding by the big guns of cinema. this is the story that gripped America for real in the middle of the 19th century, only to grip it again, in a thousand celluloid reincarnations, 100 years later. The long and hazardous migration of 300,000 settlers, who for two decades walked half way across America in search of a better life in Oregon and California. THE SUBJECT of John D Unruh's fine and sober book is one of those great historical episodes from which bright, sweet myths have been spun like candy-floss, but about which we know almost nothing.
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