Before the Disney era began, George Lucas was busy sketching, outlining, and even drafting early scripts for a fresh Star Wars trilogy. Those notes, concepts, and concept‑art pieces give us a rare glimpse into what could have been. Below we dive into the ten most tantalizing ideas george had tucked away, each one a glimpse at an alternate galaxy far, far away.

10 ideas george: The Vision Unveiled

10 Luke Would Be A Father

Back in 1983, a casually‑dropped line by Mark Hamill hinted at Lucas’ secret plan: Luke Skywalker would eventually become a father. Hamill originally expected filming to start around the year 2000, and while the Disney‑produced Episode VII took far longer to appear, Lucas never abandoned the notion that Luke’s lineage mattered.

Lucas repeatedly emphasized that his sequel trilogy would revolve around Darth Vader’s grandchildren, a phrase that meant not only Leia’s offspring but also Luke’s. In a CBS interview, Lucas described the saga as less about starships and more about a sprawling family drama, calling it “a soap opera” centered on intergenerational conflict.

When Disney’s version arrived, Lucas was visibly displeased. He told Vanity Fair that he asked J.J. Abrams, “What happened to Darth Vader’s grandchildren?” – a question that underscored his lingering frustration that his family‑centric ideas were sidelined.

9 Darth Talon Corrupts Sam Solo

The villain Lucas envisioned for his new saga emerged from the pages of a Star Wars comic: a red‑skinned alien named Darth Talon. Her mission? To seduce and lead Han Solo’s son, Sam, down the dark side.

In Lucas’ early script, Sam was not a fledgling Sith; he was a charismatic, Han‑like youngster, complete with the same jacket and blaster. Michael Arndt described him as “pure charisma,” and the artwork mirrors that youthful swagger.

Darth Talon was meant to be a femme fatale with a voice reminiscent of Lauren Bacall. Lucas even tried to weave her into a LucasArts video game, insisting the character speak with that classic 1940s allure, an anecdote that has become legend among the developers.

8 A Teenage Hero Named Kira

Lucas wanted his new heroes to be children – or at least very young teens – a detail J.J. Abrams confirmed before Disney scrapped it. The centerpiece of this youth‑driven narrative was a teenage Jedi named Kira, a scavenger‑turned‑gear‑head who would later evolve into what Disney released as Rey.

While Abrams suggested the Skywalker kids would be in their twenties, Lucas clarified that only the Skywalker offspring would be that age, leaving Kira as an outsider, not a Skywalker. Michael Arndt reinforced this, describing Kira as the ultimate disenfranchised figure, a fierce teen navigating the chaos of the Force.

This contrast explains why Lucas could claim both that the Skywalkers were adults and that the story’s core protagonist was a teenage outsider – Kira fit neither family tree, allowing her to embody the raw, rebellious spirit Lucas envisioned.

7 Luke Would Be Modeled On Colonel Kurtz

In Lucas’ take on Episode VII, the meeting between Kira and Luke would echo the dark, introspective tone of Apocalypse Now’s Colonel Kurtz. Phil Szostak, author of *The Art of The Last Jedi*, revealed that Lucas intended Luke to be an even more brooding figure than the one Disney presented.

Lucas approved a design for Luke’s hermitage: a golden‑bell‑shaped temple perched on a cliff’s edge, echoing the isolation and existential weight associated with Kurtz. R2‑D2, fully operational in this version, would guide Kira to the reclusive master via a comprehensive map of Jedi temples.

Michael Arndt summed up the plot succinctly: Kira’s home is destroyed, she hits the road, finds Luke, and together they take down the villains. The darker Luke would serve as a mentor who, despite his grim outlook, still lights the way for the next generation.

6 The Whills Who Control The Universe

Midichlorians sparked controversy in *The Phantom Menace*, but Lucas wasn’t about to abandon the scientific angle. Instead, he aimed to double down, introducing a microscopic race called the Whills that actually govern the Force.

Lucas described his upcoming trilogy as a dive into a “microbiotic world,” where audiences would finally meet the tiny beings feeding off the Force and steering the galaxy’s destiny. He admitted fans would likely recoil, but he believed the full story arc would justify the risk.

Had Lucas retained control, the Whills would have become a central mythos, providing a tangible, albeit unseen, explanation for the Force’s omnipresence and linking his original vision to a more concrete cosmology.

5 Felucia: The Mushroom Planet

One of the more vivid locales Lucas wanted to explore was Felucia, a planet already glimpsed in *Revenge of the Sith* and the *Clone Wars* series. In his sequel trilogy, Felucia would have taken center stage.

The world is a kaleidoscope of towering, neon‑colored mushrooms, spore‑shooting fungi, and gigantic, carnivorous puffballs capable of devouring humans whole. Its native Felucians live in harmony with the Force, cohabiting with translucent‑skinned creatures, tube worms, alien birds, and massive, legged larvae that can be ridden like horses.

While the exact plot points remain fuzzy, Pablo Hidalgo confirmed that Lucas intended to delve deeper into Felucia’s alien ecosystem, making it a crucial backdrop for the heroes’ journey.

4 Luke Trains Leia In The Ways Of The Force

Mark Hamill revealed that Lucas planned for Luke to survive until the finale of Episode IX, during which he would finally train his sister, Leia, in the Jedi arts. This revelation came after *The Last Jedi* sparked speculation about Leia’s latent abilities.

According to Hamill, Lucas wanted Leia to become a fully realized Jedi by the series’ end, with Luke acting as her mentor in the later installments. This would have marked a dramatic shift, positioning Leia as a powerful Force user who could inherit Luke’s mantle after his eventual death.

Hamill has repeatedly expressed disappointment that Disney ignored this familial arc, calling the omission a wasted opportunity to explore deeper sibling dynamics within the Skywalker saga.

3 Luke Enters Another Plane Of Existence

Lucas once described Luke’s fate after the original trilogy as “much more ethereal,” a hint that the hero would ascend beyond the typical Force ghost. He mentioned having a “tiny notebook” filled with notes on this other plane of existence as early as 1978.

Mark Hamill later echoed this, suggesting that Luke would exist on a realm beyond the physical, perhaps a higher state of consciousness, rather than simply reappearing as a spectral mentor. This concept hinted at a profound evolution of the character’s spiritual journey.

Lucas even teased the idea back in 1976, asking Hamill if he’d like to appear in Episode IX, promising a cameo where Luke would hand the lightsaber to the next hope—an implication that his role would be both symbolic and transcendental.

2 Han Solo Dies

Not every thread in Lucas’ blueprint was cut, however. According to Harrison Ford, the idea that Han Solo would meet his end was baked into the new trilogy from the start.

Ford recalled being told early on that his character would not survive the upcoming saga, a detail he welcomed as a compelling narrative hook. Lucas, who historically resisted killing off main heroes like Luke or Yoda, made an exception for Solo to satisfy Ford’s enthusiasm.

While it remains unclear whether Lucas would have actually executed Solo’s death on screen, the plan involved his son, Sam, stepping into the hero’s shoes before a tragic showdown that would finally close Han’s legendary arc.

1 An All‑Wookiee Spin‑Off Film

Lucas’ ambitions stretched beyond the nine‑film saga. In 1978, he outlined a plan for three trilogies followed by a handful of oddball projects, including a fully Wookiee‑centric film.

He imagined a movie that would focus exclusively on the towering, hairy species—nothing human, no dialogue beyond growls, reminiscent of the infamous *Star Wars Holiday Special* but with a serious, cinematic approach. He also toyed with a robot‑only feature, again devoid of human characters.

These concepts never materialized, especially after Disney’s acquisition, but they showcase the breadth of Lucas’ imagination and his willingness to explore the galaxy from wildly unconventional angles.

While we’ll never see these spin‑offs, the fragments that survived give fans a fascinating glimpse into the road not taken.

The 10 pivotal missions that defined George Washington’s clandestine war effort are as thrilling as any battlefield drama. From crafty deceptions to daring rescues, each operation showcases the ingenuity and bravery of America’s earliest intelligence operatives.

10 The Man Who ‘Could Not Tell A Lie’ Lied

George Washington first cut his teeth in the art of espionage while serving in the British forces during the French and Indian War (1754–1763). As an American officer, he was tasked with recruiting both white and Native American spies, managing their operations, and even targeting French agents with false intelligence. His commanding officer, General Edward Braddock, employed codes and ciphers, which Washington likely learned and later used himself. The necessity for solid intelligence became starkly evident when Braddock launched an attack on Fort Duquesne on September 14, 1758, without any knowledge of nearby enemy forces. The battle nearly turned disastrous, and Braddock’s command would have been annihilated if not for Washington’s intervention.

When Washington took command of the colonial forces in July 1775, they were laying siege to the British in Boston. During an inventory, he discovered a dire shortage: only 36 barrels of gunpowder—enough for each soldier to fire just nine shots. He realized that a British breakout could spell catastrophe, and that letting his own troops know of the shortage would shatter morale. So, as he often did, Washington fed the British a healthy dose of misinformation. He dispatched men into his own ranks and onto Boston’s streets, loudly proclaiming that he possessed 1,800 barrels of powder. The British stayed holed up in Boston, and Washington’s troops retained their confidence. The legendary cherry‑tree‑cutting boy, famed for never lying to his father, proved he could spin a convincing falsehood when the cause demanded it.

9 The Mercereau Family And The Staten Island Raid

In March 1776, after forcing the British out of Boston, Washington learned that the enemy had landed on Staten Island in June, preparing to seize New York City. On July 12, he convened a council of war to debate attacking the British commander, General William Howe, on the island. The generals unanimously voted against a full‑scale assault, prompting Washington to ask whether a smaller raid could be executed to “alarm the enemy.” The plan received tentative approval, with General Hugh Mercer assigned command after scouting Howe’s dispositions.

Mercer’s captain, John Mercereau, had recently lived on Staten Island, and his brother Joshua still resided there. Captain Mercereau slipped onto the island and, aided by Joshua, discovered that the British were not concentrated in a single encampment but were dispersed across civilian homes, with 600–700 redcoats stationed along the northwestern shoreline. Mercer proposed ferrying 1,400 men across the Arthur Kill to strike the British along the shore on the night of July 17, then retreat before Howe could counterattack. However, inclement weather and unfavorable tides forced a cancellation.

Despite the raid’s cancellation, the intelligence the Mercereau family supplied was so valuable that Washington enlisted them as a permanent spy network on Staten Island for at least three years, making it America’s first true spy ring. The ring was led by Joshua’s son, young John, who disguised himself as a cripple using his withered arm. When his courier was captured, John took over delivery duties, crossing the Arthur Kill on a raft with secret communiques concealed in a weighted bottle, tethered by a string. If intercepted, he could simply release the string, allowing the messages to sink safely. By 1777, the Mercereau Ring had grown so large that Washington assigned a dedicated case officer, trusting the members enough to involve them in prisoner exchanges.

8 Knowlton’s Rangers At Harlem Heights

While still stationed in Boston, Washington met Thomas Knowlton, a Connecticut captain who, like Washington, had fought in the French and Indian War. Knowlton was already a Revolutionary War hero, having repulsed several British attempts to breach the American left flank at Bunker Hill (he appears in the painting on the left, wearing a white shirt and clutching a musket). On January 1, 1776, Washington promoted Knowlton to major, assigning him command of the 20th Connecticut Continental Infantry for “special” missions. Their first task was a raid on Charlestown, Massachusetts, where General Howe was bivouacked on the night of January 8.

That evening, Howe attended a satirical play titled The Siege of Boston, which mocked Washington as a comic rube. Knowlton’s men slipped into town, burned eight buildings, and captured several British officers without a single casualty. When a soldier burst into Howe’s theater with news of the raid, the audience assumed it was part of the performance and roared with laughter.

In late August 1776, Howe prepared to attack New York City from Staten Island. Washington assumed the British would strike Manhattan, so he split his forces between Manhattan and Long Island. Howe, however, focused on Long Island, engaging Washington’s troops at Brooklyn Heights while sending the rest of his army behind the defenders. By the time Washington realized the maneuver and sent for reinforcements, it was too late; the battle resulted in a loss of approximately 1,400 men. Washington’s quick thinking saved the remaining forces, ferrying 9,000 soldiers across the East River to Manhattan in a single night.

That same month, Major John Knowlton was promoted to colonel and given command of an elite light‑infantry unit known as Knowlton’s Rangers. Their mission: reconnoiter British movements to prevent another Brooklyn Heights disaster. Although short‑lived, Knowlton’s Rangers are credited as America’s first military intelligence organization. In September, while Washington’s army recovered on northern Manhattan, Howe crossed to Manhattan and charged Washington’s camp at Harlem Heights. On the morning of September 16, Washington received news that Howe was nearby and dispatched Knowlton’s Rangers to probe the British vanguard. The two forces collided, and, contrary to orders to retreat and report, the Rangers engaged the enemy.

Howe sent the rest of his army in pursuit, prompting Washington to commit his troops as well. The clash ended in a stalemate, with both sides eventually withdrawing. The engagement lifted American morale after a series of defeats, proving they could stand toe‑to‑toe with the world’s most powerful army. However, the victory was bittersweet: Knowlton was shot and killed during the fight. His unit was captured a month later at Fort Washington, and many Rangers perished in British prisons. Despite their tragic end, Knowlton’s Rangers are considered the forerunners of the U.S. Army Rangers, Special Forces, and Delta Force.

7 Nathan Hale’s Mission To New York City

Following the Long Island debacle, Washington was desperate for intelligence on Howe’s next move. Two days after ferrying his men across the East River to Manhattan, he implored his generals to establish a “channel of information… to gain intelligence of the enemy’s designs, and intended operations.” When reliable intel failed to materialize, Washington turned to Knowlton’s Rangers. Lieutenant James Sprague was tasked with crossing back over the East River to reconnoiter Howe’s troops and determine their plans, but he refused to infiltrate enemy lines, saying, “I am willing to go and fight them, but as far as going among them and being taken and hung like a dog, I will not do it.”

Only one Ranger volunteered: Nathan Hale, a Connecticut teacher and neighbor of Knowlton who had just joined the Rangers as an officer. This would be Hale’s first and only mission. Despite his lack of espionage training, Washington sent Hale to Long Island disguised as a Dutch teacher. Hale’s plan faltered when he attempted to use his Yale diploma as proof of his teaching credentials, which displayed his real name rather than an alias. Moreover, his scarred face from a gunpowder accident made him memorable, and he received no money, civilian contacts, or cipher training. He also failed to keep his mission secret, spilling details to a fellow Yale classmate before departure.

Shortly after his mission began, the British crossed to Manhattan, rendering Hale’s original objective moot. Yet Hale chose to stay and gather intelligence anyway. He was apprehended on September 21 with incriminating papers, sentenced to execution without trial, and hanged the following morning after allegedly uttering his famous words, “I regret I have but one life to lose for my country.” Though his mission failed, Hale became a martyr and hero for the intelligence community. His death forced Washington to recognize the value of civilian spies familiar with local terrain—like the Mercereau family—over military operatives who lacked regional knowledge. While some historians debate the authenticity of Hale’s final words, eyewitnesses support their veracity, noting his possible inspiration from Joseph Addison’s tragedy Cato (“What a pity it is that we can die but once to serve our country”).

6 Washington’s Double Agent

After the Long Island loss, the British forced the colonials out of Manhattan, then New York, and finally New Jersey. By early December 1776, Washington’s army had crossed the Delaware River into Pennsylvania, suffering from hunger, disease, desertions, and dwindling enlistments. Morale was at a low point, and with Christmas approaching, a victory was desperately needed.

Enter John Honeyman, a butcher reputed to be a loyalist to the Crown. Born in Ireland, Honeyman served in the British army in Canada, fighting at the Battle of the Plains of Abraham (1759). He was honorably discharged and moved to Philadelphia in 1775, where he may have first encountered Washington. According to his grandson, Honeyman met Washington at Fort Lee, New Jersey, in November 1776 and offered his services. The reasons for a known Tory switching sides remain murky.

Washington accepted Honeyman’s assistance, instructing him to maintain his loyalist façade. As Washington’s army marched toward the Delaware, Honeyman was to pose as a butcher for the pursuing British, caring for their cattle and occasionally slaughtering them. This role allowed him to observe British dispositions, fortifications, and movements. Honeyman operated solo—no supporting agents or couriers—so if he gathered valuable intel, he was to feign capture by Washington’s sentries and be brought to the commander’s tent.

In late December, Honeyman claimed he was hunting cattle along the Delaware when colonial sentries captured him and escorted him to Washington’s tent. There, he reported that Hessian soldiers bivouacked across the river at Trenton were lax and disorganized. Washington staged a diversion, allowing Honeyman to escape. Returning to Trenton, Honeyman informed the Hessians that the colonials were “too disorganized and dispirited to pose a threat.” On Christmas Day, Washington’s forces crossed the Delaware and attacked the Hessians the next morning. The Hessians, either drunk or hung over from holiday celebrations, were quickly overwhelmed, resulting in 900 captured with only two American casualties—precisely the morale boost the Continental Army needed.

Modern historians debate Honeyman’s authenticity as a spy. Some argue he remained a staunch loyalist, offering information reluctantly. He and his family continued to face harassment as Tories after the Trenton battle, even being arrested twice for treason by New Jersey authorities, though both indictments were dismissed—leading some to speculate Washington intervened. Evidence supporting either side remains scant.

5 Lydia Darragh Warns Washington

Following Nathan Hale’s execution, Washington turned to civilians experienced in espionage. He commissioned New York merchant Nathaniel Sackett—formerly of the Committee for Detecting and Defeating Conspiracies—to establish a spy ring in his hometown, offering $500 initially and $50 monthly thereafter. While Sackett’s operation lasted only a few months, it achieved a crucial intelligence coup. By spring, it was clear General Howe would soon go on the offensive, and Washington needed to know his target.

In March, one of Sackett’s agents—an unnamed woman married to a Tory—observed the British constructing flat‑bottomed boats, likely intended to attack Philadelphia. Her report proved accurate: the British used the boats to approach the city, and on September 11, the redcoats defeated Washington at Brandywine Creek, entering Philadelphia two weeks later. Washington promptly established a spy network in the City of Brotherly Love, appointing Major John Clark—familiar with the area—to run it.

Clark swiftly organized a network of spies, assigning simple aliases like “Old Lady” and “Farmer.” Many agents were Quakers, whose pacifist stance made them ideal covert operatives, as they were expected to remain neutral and thus less suspicious. One Quaker, Lydia Darragh, independently spied on the British. Born in Ireland 48 years earlier, Darragh was a midwife, wife of a teacher, and mother of five. Her son Charles had broken with the Quakers to join Washington’s army, camping near Whitemarsh.

When the British occupied Philadelphia, General Howe set up headquarters in the house directly across from the Darragh residence. Redcoat officers became a common sight on the street, prompting Lydia to gather intelligence through observation and eavesdropping. Whenever she acquired valuable information, her husband William would write a coded note on a tiny piece of paper, which Lydia sewed beneath the top of a button. She then attached the button to her 14‑year‑old son John’s coat. John would travel to Whitemarsh, deliver the button and message to Charles, who forwarded it to Washington.

The Darragh home featured a spacious back room. In the fall, Howe demanded the family vacate so he could hold staff meetings there. Lydia convinced the general that they were harmless Quakers, and he permitted William and Lydia to remain while the children were sent elsewhere. On December 2, Howe held a crucial meeting in the Darraghs’ back room, insisting the couple retire to their rooms. Defying this, Lydia slipped into an adjoining room, hid in a closet, and overheard plans for a surprise attack on the Continentals at Whitemarsh on December 5.

The next morning, Lydia obtained a pass to cross British lines, intending to visit her children and collect flour from the Frankford Mill. En route, she encountered an American officer and relayed the imminent British offensive. The officer passed the warning to Washington as Lydia returned home. Washington already suspected Howe of planning an attack—Clark’s agents had reported British preparations—but lacked specifics on timing and location. Lydia’s detailed warning filled that gap.

When the redcoats arrived at Whitemarsh on December 5, Washington was prepared. Surprised, Howe withdrew his forces back to Philadelphia. Lydia and William faced suspicion of tipping off Washington, but Lydia persuaded a British officer of their innocence. Clark’s spy ring continued feeding Washington valuable intelligence throughout the winter of 1777‑78. When Clark’s agents reported that Howe would winter in Philadelphia, Washington decided to camp at nearby Valley Forge.

4 The Culper Ring Saves The French

In February 1778, while Washington’s troops endured hunger and hardship at Valley Forge, France signed a treaty to fight alongside America against England. That same month, General William Howe, frustrated by his failure to end the war, was replaced by General Henry Clinton as the British commander‑in‑chief. Concerned the French might attack New York City, London ordered Clinton to evacuate Philadelphia and reinforce the New York garrison.

The French fleet was en route, bound for British‑occupied Newport, Rhode Island, and requested Washington’s intelligence on British naval activity in New York harbor. Serendipity struck in August when artillery lieutenant Caleb Brewster offered his services. Brewster, an ex‑seaman raised near Long Island Sound, employed a whale boat to scout New York waters. On August 27, Brewster reported that the British were aware of the French fleet’s destination and were dispatching their own fleet to Newport. A severe storm forced the French to abandon their plans to seize Newport.

Washington retained Brewster and built a spy ring around him, appointing Major Benjamin Tallmadge—who had known Brewster since childhood—to oversee operations. Tallmadge, familiar with Brewster’s maritime expertise and the Long Island Sound, had learned espionage under Nathaniel Sackett and was motivated by his friendship with Nathan Hale from Yale.

Washington ordered Tallmadge’s dragoon troop to operate in the lower Hudson Valley and Connecticut coastal region, hunting Tories and countering British raids. Brewster acted as courier, ferrying messages from Long Island to the Continental‑controlled Connecticut shore in his whale boat, then meeting Tallmadge to deliver intelligence.

Tallmadge also recruited another Setauket acquaintance, Abraham Woodhull, and a distant relative, Anna Strong. Neither Woodhull nor Brewster had direct access to British military circles in New York, so they enlisted merchant Robert Townsend, who lived in Woodhull’s sister’s boardinghouse in Manhattan. Townsend and other Setauket residents collected snippets of information to send directly to Washington.

For correspondence, Woodhull adopted the alias Samuel Culper—a nod to Culpeper County, Virginia—while Townsend became Samuel Culper Jr., giving rise to the famed Culper Ring.

Two years later, in July 1780, the French again attempted to land at Newport. With the British having abandoned the port in 1779, the French arrived unopposed. Washington again turned to his spies for insight into British reactions. Townsend, part‑owner of a coffeehouse frequented by Clinton’s officers, learned that Clinton was massing his army on Long Island’s northern tip for an offensive against Newport.

Townsend smuggled his intelligence to Washington using invisible ink—known as “stain” or “white ink”—between the lines of a letter addressed to a Tory. Ten days after his request, Washington received a Culper Ring report: Clinton was marching 8,000 redcoats toward Newport, accompanied by nine British warships. Clearly, Clinton intended to strike the French before they could fortify their position.

While the French rushed to prepare defenses, Washington fabricated a fictitious diversionary offensive against Manhattan. He had a local farmer “discover” plans for the offensive and deliver them to a British outpost. Washington then began marching his army toward New York City. Clinton, fearing an imminent attack, recalled his troops to protect the city, thereby sparing the French forces at Newport from a British assault.

3 The Culper Ring Uncovers Benedict Arnold’s Betrayal

Tallmadge’s Culper Ring employed sophisticated espionage techniques—codes, aliases, and invisible ink—making it Washington’s most successful spy network. The group used “stain” or “white ink” and a codebook based on John Entick’s 1771 New Latin and English Dictionary. Spies could write words using a transposed alphabet, easily decoded with the key.

Meanwhile, Washington remained unaware that a serious problem simmered within his own ranks. General Benedict Arnold, once a celebrated patriot, had morphed into a traitor over just four years. At the war’s outset, Arnold passionately championed the Revolution, even financing his own men. However, the fledgling government could not reimburse him, fostering resentment.

Arnold earned fame at Fort Ticonderoga and Saratoga, rescuing the revolutionary cause twice, but his injuries prevented further battlefield glory. He was repeatedly passed over for promotion, and his stubborn thigh wound barred him from leading troops. Assigned to administrative duties in Philadelphia, Arnold’s frustrations grew, and he turned to a wealthy, charismatic Philadelphian, Margaret “Peggy” Shippen, a known loyalist still in contact with Major John André, a British officer she met during the British occupation.

Arnold married Peggy in April 1779, deepening his financial woes. By summer 1778, Arnold, aided by his wife, approached André with an offer to betray his country for money and a British commission. Over the next year, they negotiated terms. By summer 1780, Arnold began supplying high‑value intelligence, including the French fleet’s planned landing at Newport, Rhode Island. When offered command of West Point, Arnold proposed surrendering it to the British.

The exact moment the Culper Ring intercepted Arnold’s correspondence is unclear, but it appears to have occurred in July or August 1780. On July 30, Arnold was officially appointed commander of West Point; on August 15, the British agreed to pay him 20,000 pounds sterling (roughly £3.2 million today, or about $5 million).

On September 3, Arnold sent a letter to the British to finalize a meeting with André, but someone—likely a Culper Ring operative—rendered the letter unintelligible. When Arnold attempted to cross British lines on September 11, they fired upon his boat, forcing him to abort the meeting. A second attempt on September 23 saw André captured, though Arnold and Peggy escaped to join the British.

When Tallmadge met André, the latter asked about his fate. Tallmadge recounted the story of his good friend Nathan Hale, executed by André’s friend General Howe, concluding with, “Similar will be your fate.” André was hanged on October 2. Arnold received a British general’s commission but was paid only £5,000 because his plot failed.

2 Hercules Mulligan And Cato Save Washington’s Life Twice

Perhaps the least celebrated yet most vital of America’s early spies, Hercules Mulligan was a New York City tailor who immigrated from Ireland at age six. He joined the New York chapter of the Sons of Liberty, a militant anti‑British group. In July 1776, Mulligan led a mob to New York’s Bowling Green and toppled the equestrian statue of King George III. The rebels melted the lead statue into bullets for the Patriot cause.

Three years earlier, Mulligan opened his home to a teenager from St. Croix Island, Alexander Hamilton. The young Hamilton, studying at King’s College (now Columbia University), received his most important education at Mulligan’s dinner table, debating America’s grievances against the British Empire. Though initially a loyalist, Hamilton joined the Patriot cause after hearing Mulligan’s arguments.

When General Howe captured New York City in September 1776, Mulligan was arrested and imprisoned at the Provost Prison. He persuaded the British to release him by claiming he was no longer a patriot. In March 1777, Hamilton, now Washington’s aide, recommended Mulligan as a new New York spy.

As a premier tailor, Mulligan’s shop on Queen Street attracted British officers seeking uniform repairs or alterations. During fittings, Mulligan extracted intelligence from the officers. Once he gathered sufficient information, his enslaved servant Cato would ferry the parcel across the Hudson River ferry to New Jersey, delivering it to a safe house. An express rider would then rewrap the parcel and deliver it directly to Washington.

Although Mulligan occasionally cooperated with the Culper Ring, he usually operated with Cato and a translator named Hyam Salomon. Late one winter night in 1779, a British officer entered Mulligan’s shop demanding a watch coat immediately. When Mulligan asked why the urgency, the officer boasted that that night they would capture Washington, saying, “Before another day, we’ll have the rebel general in our hands.” Washington that night was meeting subordinates, and the British had discovered the meeting’s location, planning a trap. Cato was swiftly dispatched to New Jersey to warn Washington, who, on Mulligan’s tip, avoided capture.

The incident repeated in February 1781, when Washington was traveling to Newport, Rhode Island, to meet French General Rochambeau. Mulligan’s brother Hugh owned an import‑export firm that the British ordered supplies from. When a rush order arrived, an officer told Hugh that 300 cavalrymen were headed to New London, Connecticut, to intercept Washington. After receiving Mulligan’s warning, Washington’s men ambushed the cavalrymen upon their arrival at New London, thwarting the British plan.

1 Armistead’s Intelligence Coup

When France entered the war in 1778, the British attempted to sway the southern colonies against the northern ones. While General Charles Cornwallis could capture coastal cities like Savannah and Charleston, he struggled to hold interior areas of the Carolinas.

In the fall of 1780, Cornwallis marched into North Carolina, aiming to attack Washington from the south while Clinton pressed from the north. Colonial victories forced Cornwallis to retreat to South Carolina. To relieve pressure on Cornwallis, Clinton dispatched Benedict Arnold to Virginia to seize Richmond just before New Year’s Day. Arnold’s men plundered and burned the state capitol.

Just east of Richmond lay the plantation of William Armistead. In March 1781, General Marquis de Lafayette and 1,200 colonial troops arrived near Yorktown, Virginia, to harass Arnold’s army. One of Armistead’s enslaved men, James, asked his master if he could join Lafayette’s forces to drive the British invaders from Virginia. Though the British had promised emancipation to any American slave who aided them, James chose to fight for the Patriot cause. William consented.

When James appeared in Lafayette’s camp, the French commander recognized the value of a man familiar with the region. Lafayette tasked him with infiltrating Arnold’s camp, pretending to be a runaway slave offering scouting services. Arnold accepted James’s story and granted him freedom to roam the British camp, listening to conversations around campfires.

James earned such trust that when Arnold’s army merged with Cornwallis’s forces in May, he was allowed to remain as a scout for Cornwallis. In July, James sent word to Lafayette that Cornwallis planned to move down the Virginia Peninsula to Yorktown to await supplies.

At that time, Washington was planning a joint offensive with the French against Clinton in New York. When Lafayette forwarded James’s intelligence, Washington realized Cornwallis could be cornered at Yorktown. He rushed his army south to surround Cornwallis while the French fleet blockaded the coast. In October, Cornwallis was forced to surrender, effectively ending the war.

Despite his invaluable service, James returned to William Armistead’s plantation as a slave after the war. Although the new republic freed slaves who fought for the cause, James never wore a uniform, so he was not automatically emancipated. It was only through Lafayette’s advocacy that James Armistead was finally freed in 1787.

Steve is the author of 366 Days in Abraham Lincoln’s Presidency: The Private, Political, and Military Decisions of America’s Greatest President and has written for KnowledgeNuts.

10 facts about the extraordinary yet terrifying end of America’s first president, George Washington, reveal a cascade of medical missteps, odd concoctions, and post‑mortem controversies that turned his last night into a macabre tableau. Though celebrated for his leadership, Washington’s final hours were riddled with baffling treatments and unsettling intrigue that still capture the imagination.

10 Facts About Washington’s Fatal Night

10 Diagnosis And Treatment

Since the winter of 1799, scholars have debated whether Washington fell victim to outright medical malpractice. Dr. David Morens, writing for The New England Journal of Medicine, notes that accusations of malpractice “were very much in the air during and immediately after the great man died.” While Morens concedes that today’s definition of malpractice might differ, he emphasizes the unsettling fact that none of the three physicians caring for Washington could agree on a single therapeutic approach.

Morens further suggests the doctors may have been shielding their reputations to dodge potential charges. Even the precise diagnosis remains shrouded in mystery—was it an acute infection, a fatal misstep by his physicians, or a lethal blend of both? The lack of consensus continues to fuel speculation about the true cause of his demise.

9 Vile Concoction

Imagine the agony of a man whose throat has turned into a burning furnace. In the early morning, Washington’s aide‑de‑camp, Col. Thomas Lear, presented a tonic made of molasses, butter, and vinegar in a desperate attempt to quell the swelling. The mixture was as unpalatable as it was ineffective, and the ailing president could barely swallow, let alone drink it.

Washington’s labored breathing turned into choking fits, and each sip sparked convulsions. He was also urged to gargle with vinegar and sage tea, a regimen that only intensified his suffocation and forced him to expectorate copious phlegm. The relentless escalation of his respiratory distress continued until, just ten minutes before his death, his breathing finally eased, allowing him to slip away.

8 Punctuality

After retiring from public service, Washington habitually toiled on his Mount Vernon estate, even when the weather turned brutal—snow, rain, hail, and gale‑force winds could not deter him. He would labor for five straight hours, ensuring each task was completed before returning home.

True to his reputation for punctuality, he remained in damp clothing through dinner, then ventured outdoors again the following day despite a painful sore throat that had emerged overnight. That day would become his final excursion; he retired to his quarters with worsening symptoms, only to awaken in torment around 3 a.m. His relentless dedication ultimately sealed his fate, as three physicians were summoned and his condition deteriorated beyond repair.

7 Infertility

Historians have long speculated about Washington’s infertility, pointing to possible endocrine disorders or sexually transmitted infections. One prominent theory implicates chronic exposure to mercurous chloride, a compound he received in his twenties to treat abdominal pain and persistent bloody diarrhea.

Even on his deathbed, his physicians continued to prescribe this toxic element, combined with potassium tartrate, a mixture known to induce severe nausea and vomiting. In lay terms, the nation’s founding father was being unintentionally poisoned by the very remedies meant to save him. When these treatments failed, Dr. Dick proposed a tracheotomy, a daring suggestion that clashed with Dr. Craik’s refusal, leaving Washington without a potentially life‑saving intervention.

6 Criticism And Irony

In the late 18th century, news traveled at a snail’s pace. By December 1799, it took four full days for word of Washington’s death to reach the United States Congress in Philadelphia. The very session that received the tragic news was still in progress while Washington’s funeral unfolded miles away at Mount Vernon.

As his casket was lowered, the harsh criticism he endured throughout his life resurfaced. Once labeled a British sell‑out, Washington’s legacy was abruptly recast as that of a venerable hero. Ironically, the Union he fought to forge would later face a severe test—69 years after his death—when General Robert E. Lee, the son of a man who famously proclaimed, “First in War, First in Peace, First in the Hearts of His Countrymen,” threatened the very nation Washington had helped create.

5 Spanish Fly

As Washington’s condition worsened, physicians resorted to a baffling treatment: Spanish Fly. This powdered toxin, derived from the dried bodies of the beetle *Cantharis vesicatoria*, was applied directly to his inflamed throat.

Spanish Fly, historically used as a dangerous aphrodisiac, causes blistering and can poison livestock, leading to excitement, diarrhea, and kidney inflammation. Doctors believed the concoction would draw out toxins, yet the blistering pain only further drained Washington’s already weakened immune system, compounding his suffering throughout the day.

4 Burial Dispute

Washington’s will stipulated that he be interred in a newly constructed family mausoleum—a request he never imagined would spark a century‑long controversy. Despite his wishes, both the House and Senate appealed to the Washington family, urging a transfer of his remains from Mount Vernon to the Capitol for a grand marble monument.

Martha Washington, though reluctant, acquiesced to public sentiment, yet disagreements over the monument’s design and financing stalled the project for years. By the centennial in 1832, John A. Washington, then owner of Mount Vernon, outright rejected any further attempts to relocate the patriarch’s body, effectively ending the protracted dispute after 33 tumultuous years.

3 Dehydration

In the final hours of his ordeal, Washington endured a series of invasive procedures: throat swabs coated in salve followed by a forced enema. These interventions not only incapacitated him further but also precipitated a severe loss of bodily fluids, disrupting his mineral balance and straining his kidneys and heart.

The resulting dehydration, combined with electrolyte disturbances, likely triggered additional complications such as dizziness, nausea, and abdominal cramping—symptoms commonly associated with excessive enema use. In Washington’s case, well‑intentioned “treatments” inadvertently siphoned his vitality, hastening his decline.

2 Washington’s Will

Amid the harrowing details of his final night, a brighter note emerges: Washington’s last will, penned five months earlier on July 9, 1799. He instructed Martha to retrieve the document mere hours before his death, entrusting her with two revisions.

In his frail state, Washington asked Martha to burn one copy and safeguard the other. The surviving will revealed his forward‑thinking provisions: emancipation of his enslaved workers, support for the elderly, infirm, and young, and a financial endowment to establish a school for orphaned children. These humanitarian gestures underscore his enduring commitment to the nation’s future, even as he clung to life.

1 Bloodletting

Washington’s physicians theorized that inflammation of his tongue, upper trachea, and larynx was obstructing his airway. Following the guidance of medical professor William Cullen, they embarked on a prolonged bloodletting regimen lasting nine to ten hours, extracting an estimated 3.75 liters of blood.

Six weeks after his death, Dr. James Brickell condemned the practice in a paper that remained unpublished until 1903, arguing that the massive blood loss, given Washington’s advanced age and weakened condition, accelerated his demise. In his final moments, Washington appeared calm, his struggle subsiding—likely a result of profound hypotension leading to shock and eventual death.

When you hear the phrase “10 facts usually associated with the first president of the United States”, you probably picture heroic battles and polished portraits. Yet the real George Washington was a far messier, more human character—full of family drama, questionable business moves, and even a few macabre medical schemes. Below, we peel back the mythic veneer to reveal the quirks and scandals that textbooks often skip.

10 Facts Usually: Uncovering Washington’s Hidden Past

10 His Mother Made His Life Hell

It’s easy to imagine the mother of America’s first commander‑in‑chief as a proud, doting figure, but Mary Ball Washington was anything but a warm‑hearted fan club. She was notoriously strict, offering criticism far more often than praise. One of George’s childhood companions once recalled, “Of the mother, I was ten times more afraid than I ever was of my own parents,” underscoring the chilling atmosphere of his upbringing.

As soon as George moved out, his mother turned into a relentless petitioner, bombarding him with letters begging for financial support—even while he was leading troops against the British. She even appealed directly to the Virginia legislature for a pension, a move that mortified Washington. He responded with a stern protest, writing, “All of us, I am certain, would feel much hurt, at having our mother a pensioner, while we had the means of supporting her.”

When Mary grew older and frail, George urged her to reside with one of his siblings for a more manageable arrangement—just not under his own roof. Even after her death, his estate paperwork contained a terse line that hinted at lingering resentment: “She has had a great deal of money from me at times.”

9 He Bought His First Elected Position With Alcohol

In mid‑18th‑century Virginia, elections were practically a public tavern. Voters expected a generous pour of spirits at the polls; refusing to provide libations was tantamount to political suicide. When Washington first threw his hat into the ring for the House of Burgesses in 1755, he took the high road and declined to supply alcohol. The result? A humiliating defeat—271 votes against him versus a mere 40 in his favor.

Learning from that bitter loss, Washington returned three years later with a vastly different strategy. He arranged for an impressive 545 liters (144 gallons) of assorted booze—beer, rum, and everything in between—to flow freely to the electorate. That equated to roughly two liters (half a gallon) per voter, a staggering amount that left no one thirsty. The gamble paid off handsomely; Washington swept the election with a decisive majority.

8 His False Teeth Were Pulled From Slaves

Forget the myth of wooden teeth—Washington’s dental saga is far more unsettling. A lifetime of poor diet and genetics left him with a painful, toothless grin. Wealth afforded him the luxury of a custom set of dentures, but the materials used were far from ordinary. His dentist crafted a base of hippopotamus ivory, reinforced with gold wire springs and brass screws, then populated it with real human teeth—extracted from enslaved individuals on his plantation.

Records from 1784 reveal Washington paid his slaves a paltry 122 shillings for nine teeth, a sum that was merely one‑third of the market rate for human dentition. The dentist then forced these harvested teeth into Washington’s mouth, creating a macabre composite that likely fueled the later legend of wooden prosthetics.

7 He Made A Fortune Off Whiskey And Slaves

Beyond his political résumé, Washington was a shrewd businessman. While his wife Martha inherited a sprawling 8,000‑acre estate populated by five farms and over 300 enslaved laborers, George leveraged his name to launch the nation’s largest whiskey distillery in 1797. By the time of his death in 1799, the operation was churning out an astonishing 42,000 liters (11,000 gallons) of spirit each year, making him one of the country’s earliest industrial magnates.

6 He Grew Marijuana

Washington’s agricultural pursuits extended into the realm of cannabis. While many associate early American hemp with rope‑making, his farm journals disclose a deliberate effort to cultivate marijuana for its psychoactive properties. He meticulously recorded attempts to separate male from female plants, noting on May 12, 1765, “Sowed hemp at muddy hole by swamp,” and later lamenting, “Began to separate the male from female plants—rather too late.” By the following year, he was “pulling up the male hemp.”

Given the absence of prohibitions, it is highly plausible that Washington smoked his own harvest. Unverified anecdotes suggest he and Thomas Jefferson exchanged personal gifts of homegrown marijuana, further hinting at a shared, clandestine pastime.

5 He Was Paid More Than Any Other President

When appointed commander of the Continental Army, Washington famously refused a salary, insisting only that Congress reimburse his expenses. The reality, however, turned out to be a staggering fiscal extravaganza. He booked actors for theatrical productions, spent $6,000 on liquor, and even indulged in lavish meals that added roughly 14 kilograms (30 lb) to his waist. In total, his expense claim ballooned to $449,261.51—a sum Congress was compelled to honor.

Later, as the nation’s first president, he attempted to secure a comparable arrangement, but lawmakers, wary of past excesses, mandated a modest salary. Still, Washington negotiated the highest presidential pay in U.S. history, amounting to about two percent of the national budget—a figure that outstripped all his successors.

4 He Thought Chinese People Were White

When the fledgling United States opened trade with China in 1785, Washington became an avid collector of Chinese curiosities—tea, silk, porcelain, and the like. Yet, despite his fascination, he was genuinely shocked upon first seeing a Chinese figure depicted on a porcelain pot. Until that moment, Washington had assumed the world’s peoples were uniformly “white,” a misconception he only corrected after confronting the reality of Chinese appearance.

3 He Illegally Transported Slaves

Washington’s presidency forced him to reside in Pennsylvania, the first state to enact a Gradual Abolition Act that limited a resident’s ability to hold slaves to six months. After that period, any enslaved person had to be emancipated. Undeterred, Washington exploited legal loopholes, rotating his enslaved workforce every six months to sidestep the law—a practice expressly outlawed by 1788.

Historical accounts suggest the federal government was fully aware of Washington’s maneuvers but chose to look the other way, likely out of deference to the nation’s inaugural leader. Consequently, his administration continued to profit from slave labor despite the state’s abolitionist statutes.

2 He Set The World Record For Library Fines

In 1789, the newly inaugurated president checked out two hefty tomes from the New York Society Library: Law of Nations and Volume 12 of Common Debates. The librarian, delighted to see “The President” in the ledger, set a return date of November 2 and left it at that. Washington never returned the books, and the overdue fines snowballed over the centuries.

The library didn’t discover the lingering debt until 1934, and it wasn’t until 2010 that Mount Vernon finally settled the matter by purchasing copies of the missing volumes and sending them to the institution. By then, Washington’s unpaid fees had amassed to a record‑breaking $300,000‑plus.

1 His Friend Wanted To Reanimate His Corpse

Washington harbored a lifelong dread of premature burial. He even instructed his secretary to delay interment for three days, allowing his body to decompose before the final plunge. When he finally passed in 1799, his remains were placed on ice as a precaution against the dreaded “being buried alive” scenario.

Enter William Thornton, a physician and friend, who fancied himself a pioneer of resurrection. Convinced that the blood of lambs possessed miraculous properties, Thornton proposed an elaborate revival plan: thaw Washington’s corpse by fire, rub it with blankets, inject it with lamb’s blood, perform a tracheotomy, and pump air into his lungs using a bellows. He was certain this procedure would coax the former president back to life.

Despite Thornton’s enthusiasm, Martha Washington declined the macabre experiment, opting instead for a dignified, final rest for her husband.

Few of the fabled heroes of American history are more controversial than Custer. He amassed a then record of demerits as a cadet at the United States Military Academy, and finished last in his class in academic standing. Yet within two years of his graduation he held the rank of brevet (temporary) brigadier general of volunteers. He was the youngest general in the American army since Lafayette. Over the course of the Civil War he developed the reputation of possessing superb leadership skills, a sound sense of military tactics, and personal courage, leading his troops from the front.

After the war, assigned to the west to assist in the pacification of the Western tribes, his reputation plummeted. He was elevated to near mythical status as a martyr following his death at the Little Big Horn, largely through the efforts of his widow, Libby Bacon Custer. Films and early television exaggerated his mythos. Then, beginning in the 1970s changes in attitudes towards American history regarding native Americans once again brought his lofty status as a hero to the ground. Here are ten incidents in the life and death of George Armstrong Custer which contributed to his mythos, and which remain controversial.

10. He didn’t exactly distinguish himself at West Point

Later in his military career George Armstrong Custer wrote that those who adopted his behavior should disregard his career at West Point unless they looked at it as, “…an example to be carefully avoided”. He arrived at the Military Academy equipped with a marginal education in mathematics, though he had some experience as a school teacher in other subjects. He also had a lifelong penchant for practical jokes and an established contempt for higher authority. None of those traits were indicative of assured success at a highly disciplined environment, known internationally for the quality of the education it provided its cadets.

He excelled, if that is the word, at the school in one area. During his four-year stay at West Point he accumulated a then record number of demerits, awarded for various infractions. He kept cooking utensils in his barracks room. In Spanish class one afternoon Custer asked the correct way to say “Class is dismissed” in that language. When the instructor uttered the phrase Custer grabbed his books and strode from the classroom. His uniform was incorrect, his hair too long, and his boots insufficiently polished, far from the dandy he later became.

Like many cadets of the time period, Custer frequented a nearby tavern, Benny Havens, officially off-limits but nonetheless popular. He also became notable among cadets and the academy staff for his horsemanship. In June, 1861, the scheduled five-year term for his class was shortened to four, and Custer graduated. His tenure at West Point was well-known to the officers with which he served, both the senior officers who preceded him at the Point, and the cadets who followed, awed by the legendary record of escaping severe punishment he left behind.

9. Northern newspapers lionized him early in the Civil War

Custer graduated with his West Point class in 1861, one year earlier than planned, due to the need for trained officers in the rapidly expanding Union Army. At that stage of the war Union victories in battle were scarce, and Confederate troops were encamped just thirty miles from Washington in Virginia. Custer served with distinction in the First Battle of Bull Run. He then participated in the Peninsula Campaign, the Maryland Campaign, and the Battle of South Mountain. He led numerous cavalry attacks, served as an aide to General George McClellan, and developed a reputation as an audacious commander in the field. In June 1863, with the Confederates under Robert E. Lee marching into Pennsylvania, Custer received the command of the Michigan Cavalry Brigade, with the rank of brigadier general of volunteers. He was 23.

His success in the early campaigns brought him to the attention of northern newspaper reporters and magazine correspondents. As a commanding officer, using his perquisites of rank, Custer adopted flamboyant uniforms, much to the delight of the writers. He justified his appearance as being necessary on the field of battle, making it easier for his officers and men to identify him, as well as for messengers from other units to find him in the chaos of battle. During the three-day Battle of Gettysburg, Custer led his unit, called the “Wolverines” , into a pitched battle with the near-legendary Confederate cavalry under Jeb Stuart, which was attempting to flank the main Union army. Despite being heavily outnumbered Custer led his command to victory, driving the Confederates from the field.

In reports covering the Gettysburg campaign, Custer received lavish praise for his performance. His flamboyant dress in battle drew the attention of his enemies as well as his friends and commanders. The New York Herald called him “The Boy General with the Golden Locks”. His unit took heavy casualties during the campaign, and he had at least one horse shot from under him while in action. The newspapers extolled his leadership, always from the front, and personal courage. Custer found himself an acclaimed hero in the North, a reputation he enhanced with further actions during the Civil War.

8. Custer stole a horse and refused to return it when ordered

Custer commanded a cavalry division as a major general by early 1865, and maneuvered it to block Lee’s escape at Appomattox. There, he learned of a prized thoroughbred race horse owned by Richard Gaines, near Clarksville, Virginia. Custer dispatched a patrol to seize the horse, as well as its written pedigree. Lee had surrendered over two weeks earlier, and the terms of surrender allowed his defeated army to retain its remaining horses. Custer didn’t care, he had heard much of the fifteen-hand stallion named Don Juan. His decision to obtain the pedigree, which would be essential to a later sale of the animal at its true value, means Custer came to the premeditated decision to steal a horse.

Custer rode Don Juan in the Grand Parade of the Army of the Potomac in Washington, during which the skittish animal bolted from the noise of the crowds. The sudden charge of the horse allowed Custer, famous for his long blond hair, to display his horsemanship before adoring crowds. Grant later ordered Custer to return the animal to his rightful owner. Custer refused, supported by Philip Sheridan, insisting the animal had been contraband of war, and that he had purchased it legally from the Union Army for his personal use.

To Custer the horse represented the spoils of war, and he wrote in several letters he intended to sell the animal, believing it could bring him $10,000 ($176,000 today), a handsome sum at the time. The horse died suddenly in 1866, ending Custer’s hopes for a nest egg. Custer’s behavior in obtaining the horse, and his perceived insolence in refusing to return it despite being ordered to do so widened the rift between him and General Grant. Though the story was not widely known by the public at the time, gossip among officers of Custer’s theft was rife at military posts. Today’s Custer State Park, in the shadow of Mt. Rushmore contains amongst its treasures the ironically named Horse Thief Lake.

7. Custer exploited his fame in post-war New York

After the Grand Parade Custer returned to his hometown of Monroe, Michigan for a rest. Custer then assumed command of Federal cavalry in Louisiana, destined to form the basis of occupation forces in eastern Texas. His command there was difficult. Most of the troops were volunteers who wanted to be discharged from the service, since the war they had volunteered to fight had ended. Custer’s attempts to maintain discipline among the troops drew resentment, desertions, and outright mutiny. He also found he no longer had the support of US Grant, after his insubordination over Don Juan and other issues.

Relieved in early 1866, Custer was ordered to Washington, where he lobbied for assignment. He considered a career outside the army, journeyed to New York to hobnob with high society and captains of industry. He also requested a leave of absence to allow him to go to Mexico and support the forces of Benito Juarez in the Mexican Revolution. Grant endorsed his request, but Secretary of State William Seward opposed it, and Custer remained unemployed in Washington, with the permanent rank of captain.

In the summer, 1866, Custer joined President Andrew Johnson, along with other Civil War heroes such as Grant and Admiral David Farragut, on a campaign tour to build up public support for Johnson’s Reconstruction policies. It was the first time an American President undertook a national speaking campaign along party lines. The tour proved disastrous for the President, Grant refused to speak before the crowds, and Custer spent most of his time lobbying the President for promotion and a command in the west.

6. The 7th Cavalry was a new unit when Custer was assigned to its command

In movies and television productions of the Custer mythos, particularly those made before 1970, Custer’s 7th Cavalry is usually depicted as an established regiment. In fact, the US Army created the 7th Cavalry in July, 1866 as part of a general expansion of the regular army. Custer was not the first commander of the 7th Cavalry. Colonel Andrew Smith took command and organized the new regiment at Fort Riley, Kansas. In February, 1867, Custer arrived at Fort Riley and assumed command of the regiment, with the rank of Lieutenant Colonel.

Before the year was out Custer was suspended from his command, without pay, after a botched pursuit of hostile Indians which led to the desertion of several men. After he returned to the regiment and its command he was again suspended and arrested in August, 1868, having gone AWOL (away without leave), when he abandoned his post against orders. He remained under suspension until October, 1868, when he rejoined his command at the behest of Philip Sheridan, then in command of all United States Cavalry.

By 1869 Custer’s once vaunted reputation was in tatters. He had antagonized US Grant, several members of Congress, and several of his fellow officers. His flamboyant appearance, and the fact he was frequently followed about by several dogs, was regarded with disdain by many junior officers. He nonetheless retained the support of Sheridan, and certain his star was falling, he longed for a major victory against the Indians which he could exploit to public acclaim.

5. Washita River restored Custer’s reputation in the East

Custer gained what was considered the first major victory over the western Indian tribes when he led the 7th Cavalry to attack a village of Cheyenne under Chief Black Kettle in November, 1868. Custer’s scouts had trailed a raiding party from the settlements they had attacked to the village. Black Kettle had claimed during negotiations with Indian agents and military officers that his people wanted peace. Nonetheless, warriors from several raiding parties had come from his village and returned there during the summer and fall months.

The Washita action has long been controversial. In the 1960s-70s Indian activists claimed the battle had been little more than a massacre, primarily of women, children, and older men. They claimed there had been few, if any, warriors in the village at the time of the attack. Custer initially claimed 103 warriors were killed, later revising the number upwards to 140. He acknowledged a “few” women casualties, and reported 21 dead troopers from the 7th, and an additional 13 wounded.

The Washita River attack restored Custer’s reputation in Eastern newspapers and among the general public as a daring cavalry commander and a staunch Indian fighter. Yet during the battle he withdrew before learning the whereabouts of a small troop, dispatched to pursue fleeing Cheyenne. That group encountered warriors from other nearby encampments, and greatly outnumbered they were overwhelmed and killed. The incident led to deeper suspicions among junior officers that Custer placed his search for glory ahead of the welfare of the men under his command.

4. Custer’s defeat at Little Big Horn shocked the nation

The summer of 1876 saw the United States beginning the long planned celebrations of the nation’s centennial. Passenger rail excursions to Philadelphia, for the Centennial Exposition held there beginning on May 10 were nearly always full. So were the steamboats and ferries bringing visitors to what was the first World’s Fair. Among the items to make their first public appearance at the exhibition were Hires Root Beer, Heinz Ketchup, and a communications device its inventor called the telephone.

Americans celebrated their national unity, emerging technologies, and the vast wealth of the continent. The revelers at the exposition, those traveling to it, and those remaining at home were shocked at the news that Custer and his command at the Little Big Horn had been wiped out by Indians. The exposition displayed numerous examples of modern military weapons, including those from Germany and France, as well as the United States. The public perception of the Indians prevalent at the time rendered their crushing a disciplined unit of American cavalry unthinkable.

The shock led to an immediate decision to crush the Indian tribes which had destroyed Custer’s command. By the spring of 1877 the Cheyenne under Chief Dull Knife were defeated, their villages destroyed, and they were forced onto the reservations. Little evidence exists that Dull Knife had been involved at the Little Big Horn. Also crushed and forced onto reservations were the Sioux, Arapaho, and other of the plains’ tribes. Many of the tribes were forced into the Indian Territory, as it was then known, today’s state of Oklahoma. A significant number of Sioux under Sitting Bull fled across the border into Canada.

3. His widow, Libby Bacon Custer, worked tirelessly to enhance his heroic reputation

In the United States Army, up to and including its Commander in Chief, President US Grant, there was little praise of Custer in the immediate aftermath of the Little Big Horn. Major Marcus Reno and Captain Frederick Benteen, both survivors of the battle because they were not with the five companies personally led by Custer, blamed him for the defeat. Reno had a checkered career following the Little Big Horn, including charges of making advances on another officer’s wife, being drunk on duty, and the worst of all charges on a military officer, cowardice before the enemy.

Benteen, who had been ordered to reinforce Custer’s command during the battle, instead rode to the support of Reno. He too blamed Custer for the debacle at the Little Big Horn. Few in the army command structure defended the dead Custer’s actions. President Grant publicly condemned Custer for his actions and the resultant loss of life. In the absence of support for her late husband, Libby Bacon Custer stepped into the void. Libby had kept detailed diaries of life with her husband on the American frontier, where she had accompanied him to his posts.

Libby polished and published her diaries in the 1880s; Boots and Saddles (1885), Tenting on the Plains (1887), and Following the Guidon (1890). Her books were aimed at giving Custer a glorious image, and they were for the most part historically correct, other than for details regarding maneuvers in the field. They were widely popular, were soon supported by dime novels and penny papers, and the Custer legend, as well as the legend of the Last Stand, entered the public eye. Artists produced paintings depicting Custer fighting to the death heroically, including one commissioned by Anheuser Busch which hung in saloons all over the nation. The legend of Custer’s Last Stand stood, untarnished, for nearly 100 years.

2. Custer in films and television

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xq68RGtRP3g

Beginning with a silent film in 1912 Custer has appeared in films over 30 times, portrayed by a number of distinguished actors. Ronald Reagan played Custer in an entirely fictional film, Santa Fe Trail (1940). The following year Errol Flynn depicted Custer heroically (how else could Flynn play anyone?) in They Died with Their Boots On. Several films depicted Custer as defending the rights of the Indians against nefarious government agents, illegal traders, and corrupt officials exploiting them. In 1967 Robert Shaw, later to star in Jaws, played Custer as risking his military career to defend the rights of the Indians in Custer of the West. The legend of the Last Stand remained very much alive.

During the Civil Rights movements of the 1950s-60s, historians and filmmakers began to reexamine the Custer legend. An early example is 1970s Little Big Man, starring Dustin Hoffman. The fictional story, told through the eyes of a White man raised by the Cheyenne, was in part intended to ridicule the military establishment at the height of American involvement in the Vietnam War. Richard Mulligan portrayed Custer as a borderline psychotic, driven by a deep hatred of the Indians, and finally acting completely insane during the climactic Battle of the Little Big Horn.

Television largely followed the same pattern, with early programs depicting him as a heroic icon of American history, and later portrayals making him insubordinate, egomaniacal, and determined to eliminate the tribes in order to gain greater glory for himself. Whether sympathetic, critical, fictional, or even as a spoof, Custer remains a popular character in television productions, including on Netflix’s The Ridiculous 6, released in 2015. Custer was played by David Spade. The production earned some of the harshest reviews of film history.

1. The Indigenous of his day held Custer in respect

Although some revisionists dispute it, the troops of General Terry’s command which discovered the bodies of Custer’s men found them to have been horribly mutilated. Except for two, Custer’s and Miles Keough’s. Allegedly, Keough was spared because he wore a religious medallion from the Papal States. Superstition among the indigenous likely led them to respect the medal. Custer reportedly had his eardrums punctured, but his body was spared mutilation. Terry’s men found two wounds, to the head and chest. Either of the two wounds could have been instantly fatal. Some allege an arrow was found in Custer’s genitalia, though official reports do not.

Most of the command’s dead were horribly mutilated. Custer’s brother Tom, a two-time Medal of Honor recipient, was so mutilated he could only be identified by part of a tattoo which remained. Custer’s body had been more or less left as it fell, though his eardrums, according to tribal folklore, had been pierced, making him deaf in the afterlife in their belief. The fact that his body did not undergo the indignities of those of the rest of his command indicates his enemies had a level of respect for Custer not shared by those who continue to rewrite the story of his career and death.

Custer was buried, along with the rest of his men, as they lay on the field. Attempts to identify them at the time were hampered by their mutilations and the pillaging of personal items by their killers after the battle. Custer’s body was later exhumed and reinterred at West Point in October, 1877. By then actions by the US military to crush the western tribes which had prevailed at the Little Big Horn were well underway, For the Native Americans, Little Big Horn (which they called Greasy Grass) proved a pyrrhic victory. By the end of the decade the Indian tribes of the plains were subdued, and the revisions of their history had begun.