Lament for a Legend: The Fall of Davy Crockett at the Alamo
In the summer of 1836, the American frontier mourned the loss of one of its most iconic figures, Davy Crockett, whose death at the Battle of the Alamo sent ripples of grief and outrage across the young nation. Published in the Burlington Free Press on July 1, 1836, this poignant article from the Natches Courier captures the raw emotion of a country grappling with the brutal demise of a folk hero.1 Crockett, celebrated for his larger-than-life persona, fearless spirit, and unwavering patriotism, met a tragic end at the hands of Mexican forces led by General Santa Anna. The article, rich with both admiration and sorrow, reflects the era’s fervor and calls for vengeance, offering a window into the cultural reverence for Crockett and the Alamo’s fallen defenders. Below is the full transcript of this historic piece, preserving the voice and sentiment of a nation in mourning.
COL. CROCKETT.—The Natches Courier sighs the following lament over the premature death of this singular man. Although it contains many things which we dislike, still, there are many traits of the Colonel’s character correctly given:
“We ourselves on hearing the melancholy intelligence of the fall of San Antonio, felt an extra pang of grief, when we found that Davy Crockett was among those gallant patriots and foremost among them too, who nobly perished in its defence. We had hoped to see Davy coming out of war, at its termination, with new honors bound thickly round his brow. But alas! he has passed from among us, and been gathered to his fathers in the full meridian of his glory. We never expect to look upon his like again. He was indeed one out of a thousand—aye, of a million. Poor Davy Crockett—we lament the fate of the sick Bowie—we feel sad and angry by turns when we think of the butchery of the gallant Travis; but there is something in the untimely end of the poor Tennessean, that almost wrings a tear from us. It is too bad—by all that is good it is too bad. The quaint, the laughter moving, but the fear, less and upright Crockett, to be butchered by such a wretch as Santa Ana—it is not to be borne! Can we bear it? Ought we to bear it? If we mistake not she will not. A hundred perhaps a thousand of her rifles will avenge his death. Alas, poor Davy! Thine was a horrid fate. But like a man and an American you met it.—By the speech of Mr. Childers, we learned (what we could have ventured to assert before) that he sold his life at a most precious price—that he hewed down the myrmidons of the usurper on all sides of him, at a most fearful rate —or in the happy phraseology of the speaker, “nobly did he go ahead at last.” Alas poor Davy, thou art gone forever from the earth, but thy blood cries aloud from it for vengeance. It will be rapid, terrible, awful, or we know not the nature of his countrymen.
Burlington Free Press (Burlington, Vt.), 01 July 1836, Chronicling America: Historic American Newspapers, Library of Congress, https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn84023127/1836-07-01/ed-1/seq-1/.