One of my dreams when I was young was that
my parents would drop me by the side of the road (in this case, The Belt
Parkway in Brooklyn, NY) and I would get on my horse and just ride away clear
across the USA. Little did I know that, as far as the cross-country ride was
concerned, another woman had beat me to it some fifty years earlier.
Nan Jane Aspinwall was also born in New
York, in 1880, but she spent most of her formative years in Nebraska where her
parents were shopkeepers. By 1899, she was performing in burlesque as an
oriental dancer by the name of Princess Omene, but by 1906 she had reinvented
herself once more as ‘Montana Girl.’ With this moniker came a reinvented
history—that she had been brought up on a ranch in Montana. Whatever the truth of the matter, she did
manage to learn trick roping, stunt riding, steer riding, archery,
sharp-shooting, and other rodeo show events, eventually gaining medals and becoming
the highest paid artist in the combined Buffalo Bill Wild West and Pawnee Bill
Far East show. Also in the show was husband Frank Gable, whom she had married
around 1900. Apparently, it was on a bet from Buffalo Bill that she undertook
the cross-country ride carrying a letter from the mayor of San Francisco to the
mayor of New York.
Going against advice to ride a sturdier
horse, Nan chose instead to ride her Bay thoroughbred, Lady Jane. Now think
about this: in an age when women were
still not permitted in many states to
ride astride, Nan, aged 31, undertook this ride of 4,496 miles, over some 180
days, alone and with full responsibility for her horse—whom she had to shoe
some fourteen times herself. She supported herself by giving roping and riding
demonstrations and hoping for hospitality, which was not always forthcoming. Two
towns at least disapproved of her so greatly, that she shot off her gun in
disgust.
Somewhere between Shafter NV and Procter, Utah (now, apparently ghost towns),
Nan turned off onto an old prospectors’ trail she believed a shortcut through
the mountains. Unfortunately, the trail petered out, and the
horses’ hooves had
not left marks in the granite. She apparently rode aimlessly without food or
water until nightfall and in the morning left Lady Jane to climb up a peak to
try to get her bearings. It was only the horse’s whinny that let her find her
way back to the mare. The next day she led Lady Jane to alleviate the horse’s
burden, finally deciding to mount and let the mare lead the way—which the
animal did, straight down a mountain into a railroad camp where Nan collapsed.
This adventure cost her a week in hospital.
She crossed the desert, sixty-five miles
with only arsenic water available, in one day. At other times, she made as much
as ninety-five miles a day, but from San Francisco to Denver she averaged
forty-one miles a day and thereafter only twenty-seven. On July 8, 1911, Nan
completed her journey, drawing a crowd to City Hall Park where she delivered
the letter to the mayor. She also took her horse into the freight elevator and went
up twelve flights! News articles of the day all mention the fact she was
wearing a divided skirt, an item just coming into fashion according to the New
York Times.
Nan and Frank ran their own Gable’s Novelty
Show after 1913, a sort of vaudeville Wild West show. Frank passed away around
1929 and sometime in the 1930s, Nan remarried to an Al Lambell who also
predeceased her. For whatever reason,
Nan removed herself from public life. She moved from Seattle, where she had
been living, to southern California in 1954, apparently to be near a brother.
She was childless, heavily involved with the Christian Scientist church, and
spent her last seven years on a farm in San Bernadino, where she died in 1964.
Nan’s amazing ride was immortalized both in
a radio show and in a 1954 TV episode of Death Valley Days. At a time when nice girls rode side-saddle,
and barbed wire had already cut across the country, Nan faced both prejudice
and open hostility as well as the hardships of the elements and geography.
It makes me think that perhaps that little
daydream of mine might have turned into a night-mare.
For more about me and fewer bad puns, find me at:
Twitter: @andidowning
https://twitter.com/AndiDowning
I have always loved her story!
ReplyDeleteReally pretty amazing when you think about it!
DeleteI'm still laughing at the image of little you with determination on your face being dropped off at the Belt Parkway! I've never heard of this woman before!!! I can't believe it. What amazing adventure. Of course, this is coming from someone who managed at get lost on a marked trail in the Badlands, about 20 yards from the parking lot. I'm so glad you brought this remarkable woman to our attention. I love the photos of her too.
ReplyDeleteWhen you think of the fuss that was made over the ' Unbranded' crew who rode north from Tx up through WY and so on and what they encountered, 4 of them together with help along the way, this is truly a remarkable story. Altho' she did it in 1911 when there were fewer roads and buildings in the way, it still wasn't easy, to say the least. I'm fascinated. What a strong woman! And, yes, I was determined. . . but alas, a mite too young!
ReplyDeletePluck, courage and determination. What a gal.
ReplyDeleteYes, Davalyn! Really amazing. And yet the things she was criticized for were riding alone (!), not riding sidesaddle, and wearing a divided skirt!
ReplyDeleteIt seems I may have read conflicting reports and her horse's name may have been Lady Ellen. Apologies if I was incorrect.
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