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The closing title for the film sequence above reads: “And so was born the immortal 7th U.S. Cavalry which cleared the plains for a ruthlessly advancing civilization that spelled doom to the red race.”  While it didn’t spell good things for Custer, either, the filmmaker clearly felt comfortable telling a different kind of story in 1941 than Dunlap did in 1993. I mention this because it’s useful to remember the awakened moral consciousness of the dead Ryan is an invention of our era, not a depiction of 1876. Dunlap’s song is likely a fantasy in more ways than one.

“Deadwood, South Dakota”

I first heard “Deadwood, South Dakota” on Nanci Griffith’s MCA Years: A Retrospective , but didn’t listen closely to it for a while, and the song only recently struck me as fertile territory for our conversation here. I have since learned that “Deadwood” reveals its secrets slowly.

Griffith’s performance below, from the Anderson Fair in 1988, is performed in her distinctive style, beginning with soft-spoken, folksy narration and growing to powerful, soaring choruses.

Lyrics

Griffith’s ex-husband, Eric Taylor, wrote “Deadwood.” Taylor occasionally explains in introducing the song that Griffith wasn’t speaking to him at the time she recorded it. I would think that the category of “songs so good even your ex-wife will sing them” is very small indeed. Kudos to you, sir.

Here is a 2011 performance by Taylor from the Kerrville Folk Festival.

Taylor cites two inspirations for “Deadwood.” The first he mentions is Fighting Indians of the West by Dee Brown (and Martin F. Schmitt, although I have only heard Taylor mention Brown). He may be confusing it with David C. Cooke’s book of the same name, which closely fits the description Taylor provides here. Whichever book was the inspiration, “Deadwood” depicts how patrons of a saloon in the Dakota Territories received the news of violent death of the Oglala warrior, Crazy Horse. 

In this extended introduction to this performance, Taylor also explains the second inspiration for “Deadwood,” which perhaps gets to its real, emotional truth. The scene of saloon patrons celebrating Crazy Horse’s death evoked for Taylor the memory of celebrations in his home town when Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated in 1968. According to Taylor, bars and saloons flung open their doors, offering free drinks for all in honor of the occasion, rejoicing in the death of the civil rights leader.

Taylor was never able to approach this episode directly as a songwriter.  Even in telling the story in the introductions, he appears to be grasping for words. “Deadwood” provided another avenue. As Shaleane commented to me, we have here “again, a contemporary fantasy imposed on the past. And, the past becomes just a convenient narrative hook on which to hang an argument about a contemporary happening.”

Amos Bad Heart Bull’s depiction of the death of Crazy Horse, September 5, 1877

In contrast to the other two songs, “Deadwood” achieves its goal through richly textured, but incomplete storytelling and through going “all-in” in the chorus to what is effectively a celebration of Manifest Destiny. Even with the obvious irony implicit in that chorus, the other songs are more preachy. Taylor’s gifts as a storyteller serve the listener well, as we stitch together small, vivid images in a way that actively collaborates with him rather than merely receiving the moral all tied up with a ribbon.

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