Scouting America Quotes

On my honor, I will do my best To do my duty To God and my country

If America taught me anything, it's that quitting is right up there with pissing in the Girl Scouts' lemonade jar.

Leave nothing but footprints, take nothing but pictures, kill nothing but time.

The Girl Scouts allow homosexuals and atheists to join their ranks, and they have become a pro-abortion feminist training corps. If the Girl Scouts of America can't get back to teaching real character, perhaps it will be time to look for our cookies elsewhere.

Now I was shocked! The old shibboleth, intelligence! Had not our government been culpable enough in pampering the high-IQ draftees as though they were too intelligent to fight for their country? Could not Doctor Gentle see that I was proud to be a scout, and before that a machine gunner? Intelligence, intelligence, intelligence. Keep it up, America, keep telling your youth that mud and danger are fit only for intellectual pigs. Keep on saying that only the stupid are fit to sacrifice, that America must be defended by the low-brow and enjoyed by the high-brow. Keep vaunting head over heart, and soon the head will arrive at the complete folly of any kind of fight and meekly surrender the treasure to the first bandit with enough heart to demand it.

She trained the girls in her Girl Scout troop to believe that they could be anything, and she went to lengths to prevent negative stereotypes of their race from shaping their internal views of themselves and other Negroes. It was difficult enough to rise above the silent reminders of Colored signs on the bathroom doors and cafeteria tables. But to be confronted with the prejudice so blatantly, there in that temple to intellectual excellence and rational thought, by something so mundane, so ridiculous, so universal as having to go to the bathroom...In the moment when the white women laughed at her, Mary had been demoted from professional mathematician to a second-class human being, reminded that she was a black girl whose piss wasn't good enough for the white pot.

Gray and Drew sitting side by side, with their muscled physiques taking up a good portion of the booth, look like a comic book come to life. They catch me staring and both say, “What?” at the same time. Smiling, I shake my head. “Nothing. I just had this image of Thor and Captain America having a beer.” They both color at the same time. Which is kind of cute. “Ha!” cries Anna at my side. Her cheeks plump with a wide grin. “I had that Captain America thought about Drew too.” Drew perks up. “You did, huh?” Gray snorts. “Dude, I’ve just been compared to Thor. I totally win.” “What the hell does Thor have? A little hammer?” Drew waves a hand as if to say, please. But Gray smirks. “At least he isn’t hiding behind a wussy shield. Thor is a god. Enough said.” “A boring god with the personality of a post,” Drew volleys. “And you’re saying Captain America isn’t boring? Dude. He doesn’t even understand modern culture. He’s like a 1940s Boy Scout.” Drew and Gray eyeball each other for a second. Then Drew relents with a laugh. “Touché.

On my honor, I will do my best To do my duty To God and my country and to obey the Scout law; To help people at all times; To keep myself physically strong, mentally awake, and morally straight.

Contrary to what we hear, the great American divide is not a clash between conservatives who advocate liberty versus progressives who oppose liberty. Rather, the two sides each affirm a certain type of liberty. One side, for example, cherishes economic liberty while the other champions liberty in the sexual and social domain. Nor is it a clash between patriots and anti-patriots. Both sides love America, but they love a different type of America. One side loves the America of Columbus and the Fourth of July, of innovation and work and the “animal spirit” of capitalism, of the Boy Scouts and parochial schools, of traditional families and flag-saluting veterans. The other side loves the America of tolerance and social entitlements, of income and wealth redistribution, of affirmative action and abortion, of feminism and gay marriage.

The boys teach; the Scoutmaster tests.

selfless Scoutmasters gave us their time not because they knew what we’d become, but because they knew what we could become.

So Custer’s Indian scouts get him to the village but they’re like “Dude, don’t attack this you will definitely die” and Custer is like “DIE? MORE LIKE . . . NOT DIE” and his translators and his soldiers are like “No bro pretty sure we will actually die if we do this” and Custer is like “I appreciate your concerns but I did not get this far by listening to people. LET’S SPLIT UP, GANG WE’LL COVER MORE GROUND THAT WAY.

As I do a few laps around the ice, I picture it in my mind’s eye: playing for the Chicago Falcons. Not only are they one of the biggest junior league hockey teams in all of North America, their players are also a favorite of NHL scouts.

We broke into tears. Our world collapsed. Yoni was an ardent scout leader and class president. Iddo and I would have to leave our classmates again. Our second journey to America had none of the excitement of our first visit. We knew America, we

Now I was shocked! The old shibboleth, intelligence! Had not our government been culpable enough in pampering the high IQ draftees as though they were too intelligent to fight for their country? Could not Doctor Gentle see that I was proud to be a scout, and before that a machine-gunner? Intelligence, intelligence, intelligence. Keep it up, America, keep telling your youth that mud and danger are fit only for intellectual pigs. Keep on saying that only the stupid are fit to sacrifice, that America must be defended by the low-brow and enjoyed by the high-brow. Keep vaunting head over heart, and soon the head will arrive at the complete folly of any kind of fight and meekly surrender the treasure to the first bandit with enough heart to demand

I'll tell you why I keep my scrapbooks. It's in case my real father shows up .I never met him, don't even know his name...I've got this feeling he's out there searching for me. When he bursts through the door and tells me he's spent a fortune on detectives looking all over the world for me, I'm not going to sit there like a dumb cluck when he asks me what I've been doing. I'm going to yank out my eleven scrapbooks filled with my experiences and inner-most thoughts on life lived in three time zones in America. I was a Girl Scout for three months when we lived in Atlanta. I couldn't get those square knots down for anything, but I got the big concept. Be prepared. Addie always told me, "It's more important to get the big concept than to be an expert in the small stuff.

I had never been to the Amazon, my jungle experience had mostly come from Central America with some short trips to Borneo, but the Amazon undoubtedly had a mystique all of its own. Surely the trees would be much bigger, the wildlife had to be much richer and more diverse and the people would be that bit wilder and cut off from the outside world. It gave me butterflies to think of spending time in the Amazon. Not knowing the geography of the area in any detail, my dreams were restricted to what I did know. There was a ruddy great river that virtually crossed the whole continent from west to east, and…that was about it. I had heard of expeditions that had kayaked the entire river from source to sea – phenomenal endurance feats taking five-plus months – the problem was I was a rubbish kayaker. Sure, I’d done a bit on the canals in England as a Cub Scout but that cold, depressing experience had been enough to put me off for life. What a dull, miserable sport, instructed by overenthusiastic dickheads in stupid helmets.

From gun shows, where they openly promote their product by imploring customers to buy “while you still can,” to homegrown militias who apparently believe in their blessed little hearts that they, a group of overweight forty-and fifty-year-old men who have never even had Boy Scout–level training and can’t jog a mile, are the protectors of America, the Second Amendment has by far got to be the most countercultured of all the amendments. Obviously, there are groups that take the First Amendment very seriously, but it’s tough to imagine a group of soccer moms getting together on the weekends to discuss “tactics” on how to keep free speech alive and comparing notes on their sweet new semiautomatic megaphones they use to proudly shout about their rights at “free speech shows.

The war had cut the supply of European workers the North had relied on to kill its hogs and stoke its foundries. Immigration plunged by more than ninety percent, from 1,218,480 in 1914 to 110,618 in 1918, when the country needed all the labor it could get for war production. So the North turned its gaze to the poorest-paid labor in the emerging market of the American South. Steel mills, railroads, and packinghouses sent labor scouts disguised as insurance men and salesmen to recruit blacks north, if only temporarily.

I was so proud to have been made a lieutenant-commander in the Royal Navy in 2005 (Dad would have approved!), and through the expeditions that I have led in Antarctica, the Himalayas, and the Arctic, we have now raised more than $2.5 million for children’s charities around the world. Those things really matter to me. Especially when you can actually see lives saved. There’s not much tough-guy nonsense going on when I hear those young kids’ stories. It is called perspective. In addition, and somewhat worryingly, I was voted the thirtieth most influential man in America. Hmm. And back home in the UK, I read one morning that I was considered the seventh coolest British man, as well as the most admired person by the middle classes, second only to the Queen. Double hmm. All are very flattering, but they are not very accurate. Ask Shara how cool I am not! They have, though, led to one great thing: becoming Chief Scout and figurehead to twenty-eight million Scouts around the globe. And that has been a really fun journey.

And that evening, the president traveled to West Virginia to deliver a speech before the Boy Scouts of America. Once more, his speech was totally at odds with time, place, and good sense. It prompted an immediate apology from the Boy Scouts to its members, their parents, and the country at large.

The masculinity crisis would return with each backlash. The fledgling Boy Scouts of America claimed one-fifth of all American boys by 1920; its founder's explicit aim was to staunch the feminization of the American male by removing young men from the too powerful female orbit. Backlash: The Undeclared War Against American Women

Onward and upward he pushed until rock, ground, and forest came to an end, until there was nothing but a sharp edge of blunt earth protruding in the late light of the range, where he could see well beyond the park boundaries to national forest land that he had once scouted on foot and horseback. He remembered it then as roadless, the only trails being those hacked by Indians and prospectors. He had taken notes on the flora and fauna, commented on the age of the bristlecone pine trees at the highest elevations, the scrub oak in the valleys, the condors overhead, the trout in alpine tarns. He had lassoed that wild land in ink, returned to Washington, and sent the sketch to the president, who preserved it for posterity. What did Michelangelo feel at the end of his life, staring at a ceiling in the Vatican or a marble figure in Florence? Pinchot knew. And those who followed him, his great-great-grandchildren, Teddy's great-great-grandchildren, people living in a nation one day of five hundred million people, could find their niche as well. Pinchot felt God in his soul, and thanked him, and weariness in his bones. He sensed he had come full circle.

At Sanford’s 1998 funeral in Duke Chapel, childhood friend Dickson Philips eulogized this Eagle from Troop 20 in the town of Laurinburg. To the assembled crowd, he eloquently said, “[Terry Sanford] took an oath when he was twelve years old and kept it. It started out, ‘On my honor, I will do my best to do my duty to God and my country,’ and included such things as ‘help other people at all times.’ He believed it: He was the eternal Boy Scout.

Campbell would later complain about “irregulars from the upper country [of Georgia] under the denomination of crackers, a race of men whose motions were too voluntary to be under restraint and whose scouting disposition [was] in quest of pillage.” The crackers, he reported, “found many excuses for going home to their plantations.”18

Troop 75 of Ridgefield,

Troop 75 of Ridgefield, Connecticut.

If you stay neutral, you’re in the wrong as an Eagle Scout. In my vision, being an Eagle Scouts is actively trying to do good.

We sat together in three leather chairs next to a painting of nineteenth-century statesman Henry Clay and turned the conversation to Scouting and citizenship.

The United States military officially began using canines in World War I and by World War II more than four hundred scout dogs were taking part in combat patrols, finding and hunting the enemy. After Pearl Harbor, a group of dog breeders formed “Dogs for Defense,” with the goal of building a well-trained canine force in the event America went to war. Come Korea, roughly 1,500 canines performed guard duty with the Army while others joined patrols. During Vietnam, with its close-quarters combat in treacherous terrain and tropical climes, dogs were once again called into action: around four thousand joined patrols to hunt for weapons and enemies, and served duty on army bases, especially at night when soldiers were most vulnerable to attack. But many of the dogs that served alongside U.S. soldiers never made it home; some were euthanized and others abandoned in

Beside him was a small employee sweeping the floor, just by Andrei. The cleaner clenched the broom with effort and quick movements. She moved forcefully, with so much vigor that one saw a girl scout. But wrinkles had already formed on her neck, that sweated, moistening her black wig. Andrei stared, noticing she was damn good at her job, but too good. She would bend her legs to sweep the difficult corners of the shop. The woman would adjust the picture frames on the wall and wipe down the chairs, tasks which were not part of her required duties. Whenever her co-workers talked casually, the woman steered the conversation to the topic of the conditions of the store, which she knew, or to certain customers, who she knew, or to how business was, which she knew. She drove back home with a smile, knowing she’d done a great job that day. “They need me! Otherwise, who else would have caught the slip hazard by the trash? No one, not even my manager!” she would say before bed. She was naturally helpful. It was tragic to see that kind employee, happy like a little child, be so great at some stupid shop, when in her pumped a heart large enough to fuel the future, a forest, or a country. There was no structure of life, or invention yet created, whose mechanism could righteously allocate the innocence and love embedded in the warm blood of a human being. There deserved to be. She was sacred. But the world, decidedly corporate, had seized her, eaten her up, devouring what was left of the lively.

At their peak, Roy estimated, there were over eight hundred chapters in the country with, by another estimate, more than one million members—more, according to the Motion Picture Herald, than the combined membership of the Girl Scouts and Boy Scouts of America. The Mickey Mouse Clubs had become a movement.

Key Apache Adversaries—U.S. Military Figures and Civilian Apache Agents Clum, John P.—born 1851. Civilian Apache agent at the San Carlos and Fort Apache reservations. Nicknamed “Turkey Gobbler” by the Apache for his strutting nature. Later became mayor of Tombstone, Arizona. His claim to fame was being the only person to successfully “capture” Geronimo. Died in 1932. Crook, General George—born 1828. Called America’s “greatest Indian fighter.” He was the first to use Indian scouts and was crucial in ending the Apache Wars. Called Nantan Lupan (“the Tan Wolf”) by the Apache, he advocated for Apache rights while at the same time becoming one of Geronimo’s greatest adversaries. Crook negotiated Geronimo’s “surrender” at the Cañon de los Embudos. He died in 1890. Gatewood, Lieutenant Charles B.—born 1853. A latecomer to the Apache Wars, Gatewood used scouts but failed to bring in Victorio. However, Gatewood would ultimately negotiate the terms of Geronimo’s final surrender to General Nelson A. Miles in 1886. He died in 1896. Miles, General Nelson A.—born in 1839. Civil War veteran best known for accepting Geronimo’s final surrender. Fought Sioux and Cheyenne Indians after the Battle of Little Big Horn. He died at the age of eighty-five in 1925 and was buried with full honors at Arlington National Cemetery. Sieber, Al—born 1843. A German-American, he served as the army’s chief of scouts during the Apache Wars. Died in 1907.

Culture wars, on the other hand, turn the scouting mission of the church into that of Noah’s ravens—those who never returned to the ark because there were plenty of corpses in the water on which to feed. Scavenging off death feels more certain than the seeking of a new creation, but the Holy Spirit that landed on our Lord Jesus at his baptism, the Holy Spirit he sent to enliven and empower us, is a dove, not a raven.

Proper prior planning prevents pitifully poor performance.

Not going to make ours?” Moreno said. “I’m sure you can manage.” “I burn everything. My people didn’t cook over fire.” “All people cooked over fire at some point,” Antone said. “You know what I mean. Your family.” “My family lived in a suburb of Phoenix. I learned campfire cooking in Scouts, like most boys in America.” “Touchy, touchy,” Moreno said. “I was just--” “Being an ass?” the woman said. Moreno muttered something, crushed his beer can, and threw it into the forest. The woman leaned over, took the stick, and started preparing a sausage. Antone walked into the forest, retrieved the can, and tossed it into the trash. “Earth Mother be angry,” Antone said as he came back to the fire. “Send big thundercloud.” Moreno made a face at him.

My people didn’t cook over fire.” “All people cooked over fire at some point,” Antone said. “You know what I mean. Your family.” “My family lived in a suburb of Phoenix. I learned campfire cooking in Scouts, like most boys in America.” “Touchy, touchy,” Moreno said. “I was just--” “Being an ass?” the woman said.

John Wiley & Sons, Inc. New York • Chichester • Weinheim • Brisbane • Singapore • Toronto This book is printed on acid-free paper. Copyright @ 2000 by Robert A. Carter. All rights reserved Title page photo: Buffalo Bill and the Wild West show cast, c. 1908. (Buffalo Bill Historical Center, Cody, Wyoming) Published by John Wiley & Sons, Inc. . Published simultaneously in Canada No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise, except as permitted under Section 107 or 108 of the 1976 United States Copyright Act, without either the prior written permission of the Publisher or authorization through payment of the appropriate per-copy fee to the Copyright Clearance Center, 222 Rosewood Drive, Danvers, MA'01923, (978) 750-8400, fax (978) 750-4744. Requests to the Publisher for permission should be addressed to the Permissions Department, John Wiley & Sons, Inc., 605 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10158-0012, (212) 850-6011, fax (212) 850.6008, email: PERMREQ@WILEY.COM. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Carter, Robert A.. Buffalo Bill Cody: the man behind the legend / Robert A. Carter p. cm. Includes bibliographical references (p.. 477) and index. ISBN 0-471-31996-1 (cloth : alk. paper) 1. Buffalo Bill, 1846-1917. 2. Pioneers-West (U.S.)-Biography. 3. Entertainers-United States-Biography. 4. Scouts and scouting-West (U.S.)- Biography. 5. West (U.S.)-Biography. 6. Frontier and pioneer life-West (U.S.) 7. Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show-History. I. Title. F594.B63 C37 2000 978'.02'092-dc2l [B] 00-020368 Printed in the United States of America . . 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1. For my two beloved sons, Jonathan and Randy-they, too, are westerners There are many men, but few heroes. -Herodotus

This book is printed on acid-free paper. Copyright @ 2000 by Robert A. Carter. All rights reserved Title page photo: Buffalo Bill and the Wild West show cast, c. 1908. (Buffalo Bill Historical Center, Cody, Wyoming) Published by John Wiley & Sons, Inc. . Published simultaneously in Canada No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise, except as permitted under Section 107 or 108 of the 1976 United States Copyright Act, without either the prior written permission of the Publisher or authorization through payment of the appropriate per-copy fee to the Copyright Clearance Center, 222 Rosewood Drive, Danvers, MA'01923, (978) 750-8400, fax (978) 750-4744. Requests to the Publisher for permission should be addressed to the Permissions Department, John Wiley & Sons, Inc., 605 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10158-0012, (212) 850-6011, fax (212) 850.6008, email: PERMREQ@WILEY.COM. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Carter, Robert A.. Buffalo Bill Cody: the man behind the legend / Robert A. Carter p. cm. Includes bibliographical references (p.. 477) and index. ISBN 0-471-31996-1 (cloth : alk. paper) 1. Buffalo Bill, 1846-1917. 2. Pioneers-West (U.S.)-Biography. 3. Entertainers-United States-Biography. 4. Scouts and scouting-West (U.S.)- Biography. 5. West (U.S.)-Biography. 6. Frontier and pioneer life-West (U.S.) 7. Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show-History. I. Title. F594.B63 C37 2000 978'.02'092-dc2l [B] 00-020368 Printed in the United States of America . . 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1. For my two beloved sons, Jonathan and Randy-they, too, are westerners

Many of my countrymen, knowing of my close relations with Rhodes, have asked me about the man, and before I could answer, they would begin to describe him to me as a monstrous land grabber, a greedy capitalist, and so on; accusing him of wickedly and cruelly conquering inoffensive natives and of destroying the noble Free Republic of South Africa. Perhaps the easiest and most rational way of replying to such accusations would be to begin to decry Lincoln as the ruthless destroyer of the noble South, or to arraign Marshall for limiting liberty by law, or to blame Monroe for scheming the subjection of South America. If the causing of pain is itself a sin and an evil, then no one should ever have been born. Nations, like human beings, always experience pain at birth. It is a law as immutable as gravity. The conquest of South Africa caused much pain to conquerors and conquered, but from that event came a beautiful new life, a wonderful nation, a flower of civilization where once grew only rank weeds of savagery and ignorance, and the chief credit for that noble result should be given to the prophetic genius and wise efforts of Cecil John Rhodes.

The Apaches were very treacherous, differing greatly in this respect from the Pimas and the Maricopas. Any one of our Apache scouts would go into the mountains and hunt down a hostile of his own tribe and bring in his scalp, even though the victim were a blood relative. A fancied wrong or an injury to their pride would start them killing one another even in the presence of their enemies, and would bring on a tribal war. Since they were so treacherous among themselves, how could we be astonished when an Apache robbed or killed a settler, even though the settler had treated the Indian with kindness for years? They had robbed and raided for many generations before the white man came to America.