Reporter Soldiers in the Mexican American War

Reporter Soldiers in the Mexican American War

According to Britannica.com, the practice of placing journalists with a military unit and permitting them to accompany troops into combat zones started in the U.S. during the Iraq War.

While  assigning career journalists to specific units may have originated during the 2003-2011 conflict, the concept was almost 150 years old by that point. It had begun with the 1846 Mexican American War.  

One of the embedded reporters was Lt. Richard Smith Elliott, who served as a correspondent for the St. Louis Reveille from June 1846 to June 1847. Elliott was posted with General Stephen Watts Kearny’s Army of the West. His reports to the paper provided news of the military conquest and subsequent activities, including first-hand accounts of the news of the Taos revolt.

Elliott’s pen name was John Brown. He had some newspaper experience, as he’d worked as a publisher and printer at small papers in Kentucky and Pennsylvania before giving it up to become a lawyer.  But they say newspaper ink gets in your blood, and when the U.S. decided to invade Mexico and Elliott joined up, he also volunteered to report on subsequent events for the Reveille. He began work the day he left St. Louis with the Laclede Rangers, writing about their presentation swords and grand send off.

During the following year, Elliott wrote around seventy items for the paper.  Other soldiers wrote for the Reveille, too, but Elliott’s work was the most voluminous.

Farther south, the practice of embedded reporters was also incorporated into the American military activity. One of the embedded correspondents was New Orleans Picayune publisher George Wilkins Kendall, who had been in Mexico in 1841-1842 as part of the ill-fated Santa Fe Texas Expedition. He’d written a scathing three-volume bestseller about his experiences and was apparently anxious to participate in what he saw as payback for his imprisonment.

George Wilkins Kendall, Source: Kendall of the Picayune, F. Copeland

However, Kendall did not participate in the war directly. As what one biographer calls “the first modern war correspondent,” Kendall instead chose to observe from a distance. He set up a systematic program to aggregate the news in his portable “Picayune office” that followed General Zachary Taylor through northern Mexico and General Winfield Scott from Tampico to Mexico City. His employees gathered news, sold subscriptions, and did other business for the paper while Kendall ran the operation and sent editorials back to New Orleans complaining about the slowness of the mail.  

So there were different ways one could experience and report on the Mexican American War. All of them embedded in one way or another and each providing yet another way for newspaper readers back home to get a sense of what was happening “on the ground.”

 Whether this helped or hindered the war effort is anyone’s guess, but it certainly must have been a boon to newspaper circulation.

© Loretta Miles Tollefson

Source: Fayette Copeland, Kendall of the Picayune; Marc L. Gardner and Marc Simmons, The Mexican War Correspondence of Richard Smith Elliott; http://www.britannica.com/topic/embedded-journalism, accessed 1/27/25

BOOK REVIEW: Letters and Notes on the Texan Santa Fe Expedition, 1841-1842

In June this year, I posted something very rare for me: a less-than-positive book review. The review was of a book that serves as a primary source for most historical research about the ill-fated 1841 Texan Santa Fe Expedition. I had a number of issues with that text. However, during my own work on the Expedition, I was pleased to discover primary source that I can recommend wholeheartedly: Letters and Notes on the Texan Santa Fe Expedition, 1841-1842 by Thomas Falconer.


Falconer was one of the few British members of the Expedition. A trained barrister with a strong interest in the natural sciences, he traveled to Texas to explore emigrating there and was almost immediately invited by President Lamar to accompany the Expedition as a scientific observer.
Kendall describes Falconer as a “gentleman of high literary and scientific attainments [with] mild and agreeable manners,” who was “extremely sociable and companionable” (Kendall, I, 26-27), rather careless of his appearance, but well equipped with “a number of books and scientific instruments” (Kendall, I, 43).


Falconer’s books, instruments, and notes were, unfortunately, confiscated when the Texans finally reached New Mexico. However, his memory and interest in his surroundings stood him in good stead. After he was released from prison in Mexico City, he went to New Orleans, where he developed a report for Kendall’s newspaper, the New Orleans Picayune. This and his “Notes of a Journey Through Texas and New Mexico,” published in the British Journal of the Royal Geographical Society in 1844, form the core of Letters and Notes.


This book is valuable for several reasons. First, it provides an antidote to Kendall’s more excitable, and not altogether trustworthy, version of events in New Mexico in 1841; second, it gives us valuable information about the geography and plants of the region during the early 1840s; and third, it provides an outsider’s view of the Texans and their foibles, as well as insight into the sort of information about the North American continent that the English found useful.


Falconer’s other books, one about the Oregon question, and another about the discovery of the Mississippi, are also fascinating reads, but if you’re interested in the history of New Mexico, particularly the 1841 Texan Santa Fe Expedition, I highly recommend his Letters and Notes.

Sources: Thomas Falconer, Letters and Notes on the Texan Santa Fe Expedition, 1841-1842, New York: Dauber and Pine, 1930; George Wilkins Kendall, A Narrative of the Texan Santa Fe Expedition, Vol. II, Harper and Brothers: New York, 1847.

Texan Prisoners Reach El Paso!

Texan Prisoners Reach El Paso!

When the last of the men from the Texas Santa Fe Expedition reached El Paso del Norte (today’s Juarez) in early November 1841, they must have felt as if they’d come out of hell into paradise.


They had traveled roughly 1000 miles from Austin, Texas to New Mexico, starving a good deal of the way, then about 500 more, as prisoners, from eastern New Mexico to the Rio Grande, then south, a route that included the desert-like Jornada del Muerto, or Journey of the Dead Man. They had endured unbearable heat on the plains and snow and icy winds on the Jornada. Now, though they were still prisoners, life had become much easier.


The very weather had changed. George Wilkins Kendall noticed it the night before they arrived, when, he says, “the evening air was of a most wooing temperature mild and bland” (Kendall, II, 23). As the Texans reached the outskirts of El Paso, they saw that the very plant life was different. The valley, irrigated by a canal from the Rio Grande, boasted abundant wheat, onions up to four pounds in weight, fruit trees, and extensive vineyards (Timmons, 195).


Even Kendall, who spent almost all his time in Mexico complaining, liked El Paso del Norte. Although his report doesn’t mention its famous building, the mission of Guadalupe de los Mansos, he does rhapsodize about the city’s “delightful situation in a quiet and secluded valley, its rippling artificial brooks, its shady streets, its teeming and luxurious vineyards, its dry, pure air and mild climate, and, above all, its kind and hospitable inhabitants” (Kendall, II, 42).

The Guadalupe Mission was painted in 1850 by A. de Vauducourt.
Source: es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Misión_de_Guadalupe_de_los_Mansos_en_el_Paso_del_río_del_Norte Accessed 10/17/23


Part of the reason Kendall was so impressed by the hospitality was that he was one of several Texans hosted by Presidio Commander José María Elías González. And hosted lavishly. Kendall reports the afternoon hot chocolate, the evening wine in glasses the size of New England tumblers, the tasty blood puddings, and other details of the table with great glee.
But the party couldn’t go on forever. The Texan prisoners were on the road again on Tuesday, November 9, heading to Chihuahua en route to Mexico City, where life would again become difficult. The idyll of El Paso was over, and prison and the whims of President Santa Anna, who the Texans had humiliated at San Jacinto, waited ahead.

Partial Sources: Ruben Cobos, A Dictionary of New Mexico & Southern Colorado Spanish, Santa Fe: Museum of New Mexico Press; George Wilkins Kendall, A Narrative of the Texan Santa Fe Expedition, Vol. II, Harper and Brothers: New York, 1847; W.H. Timmons, El Paso, A Borderlands History, El Paso: Texas Western Press, 2004.

Damasio Salazar on the Assignment From Hell

Damasio Salazar on the Assignment From Hell

Mexican militia captain Damasio Salazar hadn’t been particularly pleased about his assignment to take the final batch of Santa Fe Texas Expedition prisoners south to El Paso del Norte. However, the past four days hadn’t been too bad. The prisoners had complained, of course, and he’d had a bit of trouble locating enough food for them, but the communities between San Miguel del Bado and Valencia had been surprisingly generous, especially the pueblos north of Albuquerque.


But now, on Monday, October 21, 1841, trouble had really started. First, he woke to a dead prisoner. Felix Ernest had been weak to begin with. And no wonder. He’d been with the Texans who had been out the longest and starved the most. The poor scurvy-ridden devils had ended up eating lizards, snakes, and boiled horse hide. Ernest hadn’t been actually ill, as far as Salazar knew. He was just too weak to wake up.


The Captain acted quickly to prevent other prisoners from dying on him by immediately requisitioning a cart from the Valencia alcalde and loading the weakest men onto it. But the dilapidated thing was so overwhelmed with riders that it fell apart a mile down the road.


This disaster precipitated another problem. A Texan who’d been riding, a man named McAllister, was so lame he couldn’t walk any further. When one of the more stupid of Salazar’s guards threatened to shoot him, the Texan yelled at him to do just that, and the idiot took him at his word.


Now Salazar had two dead prisoners to account for when he reached El Paso. He couldn’t very well carry the bodies with him. He’d had to resort to cutting off the men’s ears as proof they hadn’t run away.


He must have been thankful when he and his column finally reached the day’s destination, a grove of cottonwoods on the east bank of the Rio Grande south of Belen. The captain ordered one of the nineteen Texan cattle slaughtered. Maybe the meat would put some strength into the men and get them through what was to come. There were only a few more towns where he could acquire rations. Then, he and his prisoners would face the Jornada del Muerto.


By his calculations, they would be crossing right at the end of October. He needed to get 187 men, their guards, and the animals across a 90 mile stretch of wasteland notorious for a lack of water, especially this time of year. It was at least a three-day journey across a land of sand, rocky outcroppings, and an occasional stunted cactus. There was a reason it was called the journey at death.


The place lived up to its name. Three more men died crossing the Jornada. Salazar took their ears as well, and presented them to the Presidio commandant at El Paso del Norte. Although the Texan prisoners, particularly American newsman George Kendall, were appalled by what they saw as his savagery, the Captain was actually following orders —and precedent. The use of ears to account for dead enemies had been instituted by the man he presented them to in early November 1841.


Salazar did face a court-martial however, in response to questions Kendall raised about the Texan cattle left grazing outside El Paso. Once he’d been cleared of wrongdoing, the Captain returned to New Mexico. He would live out his days there, although he did have a brush with Anglo retribution in December 1846, when he was accused of participating in a conspiracy against American occupation.


There was no evidence that he’d been involved in those aborted plans and Salazar was allowed to go home in peace. Whether or not he was still haunted by the memories of the 1841 march south to El Paso is another question entirely.

George Wilkins Kendall Reaches New Mexico

George Wilkins Kendall Reaches New Mexico

After a torturous journey, George Wilkins Kendall and a small group of fellow Texans finally reached New Mexico in mid-September 1841. And were under lock and key.


The approximately 300 men of the Texas Expedition to Santa Fe had divided into two groups at the end of August and sent 100 (including Kendall) ahead to find provisions for the rest, who waited with the wagons.


On Tuesday, September 14, 1841 Kendall and three other men rode into Anton Chico, New Mexico looking for food. When it became clear that the little village couldn’t supply what was needed, they headed across country toward San Miguel del Bado. They made it, but not quite the way they’d planned. By the time they reached town, they were in the custody of Mexican militia under Captain Damasio Salazar.


Kendall and his group spent just over a month incarcerated at San Miguel del Bado, where flirted with the women, engaged in shooting contests, and observed village life while they waited for word of their comrades. News finally came on Monday, September 20, when the group of 100 (less four) marched through on the way to Mexico City.


The larger group who’d been left farther behind wouldn’t arrive until October 12. After a three-day rest, they also would head south, along with Kendall and his comrades, under the supervision of Captain Salazar.


San Miguel del Bado was a logical place to incarcerate Kendall et al, as it was America’s port of entry into Mexico at the time. The town included barracks for the presidio soldiers stationed there, as well as mercantiles and other services for the 2000-plus residents. It even provided a space west of the church where in-bound merchant trains could wait for the customs official to survey their goods and calculate the import fees necessary to go on to Santa Fe or farther south to Chihuahua.

There isn’t much left of 1840s San Miguel del Bado today, except for the church with its three-foot-thick stone walls topped with adobe bricks and its twin bell towers. In Fall 1841, this building was the starting point for at least two religious processions that celebrated and gave thanks for the capture of the Texan Expedition. Kendall sneered at them both, describing the second one as “nonsensical mummeries.” He would have much to learn in the weeks to come.

BOOK REVIEW: Matt Field on the Santa Fe Trail

BOOK REVIEW: Matt Field on the Santa Fe Trail

In 1839, a former actor named Matt Field decided to go to Santa Fe, New Mexico to regain his health. Although he failed to recover his physical well-being, Field did collect impressions and notes throughout his journey. After he returned to the U.S., he got a job at what is now the Time-Picayune/New Orleans Advocate and converted his jottings into a series of newspaper articles. The pieces were popular and were reprinted in papers as far away as London. I believe their positive reception inspired Picayune editor George Wilkins Kendall to make his own attempt to reach Santa Fe, a journey he would record in his Narrative of an Expedition Across the Great Southwestern Prairies from Texas to Santa Fé, which I discussed in June.

Over a hundred years after his trip, Matt Field’s articles were collected and published as Matt Field on the Santa Fe Trail. The young actor turned reporter definitely reflected the attitudes of his day, and some readers may find those biases upsetting, but there is also much to enjoy and to learn from this book. Field’s views of Santa Fe specifically and New Mexico in general are excellent examples of how Americans viewed the land and people that blocked their access to the Pacific Ocean. The book is a mixture of admiration for the women’s beauty, fascination with everything from Taos Lightning (wheat-based whiskey) to the New Mexican custom of community dances, and shock at the idea of priests and women who gamble and make money at it.

Matt Field on the Santa Fe Trail can be an exasperating book. His description of Governor Manuel Armijo’s wife as an elephant dancing is just rude and his misunderstanding of the role of Gertrudes Barceló as a business woman is a clear example of one society’s gender expectations being loaded onto another culture. However, these and other passages are precisely why I keep this book in my library. Matt Field on the Santa Fe Trail reminds me that we do not always see ourselves and our biases as clearly as we think we do. Even when we believe we’re open to new experiences, our unexpanded frames of references can still distort our perceptions.

And that is why I recommend Matt Field on the Santa Fe Trail to anyone interested in history in general and New Mexico in particular. It’s a fascinating historical document in itself and can also help keep us honest about our own take on the world around us and remind us that we may also possess attitudes we haven’t completely examined. And may not want others to know about a hundred years from now.

Who Was George Wilkins Kendall?

Who Was George Wilkins Kendall?

I’ve mentioned George Wilkins Kendall in recent posts and thought I should explain who he was and why I think he’s important to the events that led to the 1846-47 conflict between the United States and Mexico.


A rather handsome man, Kendall had thick, wavy brown hair and loved fashionable clothes. He was also a quick learner who tended to focus only on what he was particularly interested in. At age 16, he announced that he wanted to become a printer and went to work for the Amherst Herald, which was owned by his first cousin and a friend.


When the paper collapsed 12 months later, Kendall went to Boston, where he apprenticed with the Statesman and experienced Boston theater. This sparked an interest in acting that took him to New York City and a position with a wandering theatrical group.


For the next five or six years, Kendall around the U.S., sometimes working in theater, sometimes in print shops or as a reporter. At one point, he even operated a stage coach line in North Carolina. Somewhere along the way, he returned to his first interest and acquired the skills of a journeyman printer. Around the same time, he began to transition into the role of newspaper reporter, writing for the Mobile, Alabama Register; the United States Telegraph and National Intelligencer in Washington City; the True American in New Orleans; and the Sentinel in Greensboro, Alabama. In 1836, he settled in New Orleans and he and a friend prepared to begin printing what is today the Times-Picayune/New Orleans Advocate.


For folks in New Orleans, Kendall’s legacy would appear to be a newspaper that’s been in print since January 1837. However, in the 1840’s, he had a more immediate impact on events at large. The Picayune had published a series of pieces by a reporter named Matt Field. The articles, based on Field’s 1839 trip to New Mexico, were picked up by papers across the country and as far away as London. Field made New Mexico look both wild and accessible at the same time, and the popularity of his pieces seems to have sparked Kendall’s interest in going there himself.

Around the same time, there was a lot of national discussion about whether the Republic of Texas should be invited to join the Union. Kendall, and other who supported annexation, saw it as an opportunity to expand the U.S. as far west as the Rio Grande.


Since its founding, Texas had claimed that its western boundary extended to the river and included Santa Fe. In 1840, Texan President Mirabeau B. Lamar decided to enforce that claim by sending a group of soldiers to New Mexico along with a few merchants, to make it look like a commercial venture.
The Texas Santa Fe Expedition started from Austin in June 1841 and included Kendall, who, unlike his fellow travelers, had a passport from the Mexican vice-consul in New Orleans. As a reporter/publisher, Kendall had developed the habit of carrying a small black notebook, where he recorded ideas, jokes, and “sparks of wit” for future publication. He kept up this practice en route to New Mexico, noting both the good and the bad about the Expedition, its members, and their activities. He was devastated and furious when his notes were confiscated after he and other members were captured by New Mexico militia that Fall.


However, Kendall’s years as a reporter and his time on the stage seem to have stood him in good stead. He remembered in great detail what occurred between his capture, incarceration in Mexico City, and final return to New Orleans in May 1842.


As soon as he reached home, he began writing his memories down. The first installments were published in the Picayune in early June. This and the following chapters were reprinted in newspapers across the country and then into a book, A Narrative of an Expedition Across the Great Southwestern Prairies, from Texas to Santa Fe. The two-volume edition published in 1844 went on to become a best seller, with more than 40,000 copies sold over the next eight years.


The Narrative’s description of Mexico was both inflammatory and racist. Kendall portrayed the Texans as brave risk-taking Anglo adventurers while Damasio Salazar, the man who superintended the first part of the Texans’ journey south to Mexico City, was a “dark-visaged” monster with a vendetta against Americans. In addition, Mexican men in general were shiftless and the Mexican Army in particular was weak and poorly armed.


As the prisoners’ route takes them closer to Mexico City, Kendall begins to provide detail about the condition of the roads and the fortifications in the towns along the way. In fact, the book begins to seem more like a reconnaissance report than a traveler’s narrative. One has the sense Kendall hoped it would serve not only as a rallying cry against the “pernicious” Mexicans, but also as a handbook for an American invasion.


And he appears to have got what he wished for. When the war Mexicans know as “The War of the United States Against Mexico” came in 1846, many of the invading volunteers carried copies of Kendall’s book. After it was over, he published an illustrated book about the conflict, then went to Texas, where he settled in its Hill Country.


He is remembered there for his contributions to Texas sheep ranching. However, I consider the Narrative to be Kendall’s most lasting contribution to history. While many in the United States were already convinced in 1842 that its manifest destiny was to own everything to the Pacific, there was no justification for going to war to get it. But Kendall’s account of what he considered the inhumane treatment of the Texan prisoners gave people the excuse they needed.


He should be remembered for that, not with admiration, but as a caution to ourselves to carefully evaluate what we are told and the possible motivations that might influence that story’s content and message. As a reminder to watch out for the Kendalls in our own midst.

BOOK REVIEW: Narrative of an Expedition

As a general rule, I only review books that I can recommend wholeheartedly. George Wilkins Kendall’s two-volume Narrative of an Expedition Across the Great Southwestern Prairies from Texas to Santa Fé is an exception to that rule.

The Narrative is Kendall’s report of the experiences of the roughly 300 men who left Austin, Texas in June 1841 to capture New Mexico for the Republic of Texas. Many of the approximately 280 soldiers accompanying the Texas Santa Fé Expedition had been told it was a trading mission. In actuality, the goal was to enforce the Texan claim that its boundaries extended west to the Rio Grande and north to that river’s headwaters.

That enforcement never happened. The rugged landscape between Austin and New Mexico, along with the Expedition’s lack of planning and discipline, weakened the starving Expedition to the point that men threw away their weapons to lighten the load they carried.

Rounded up by the New Mexicans, the Expedition members were taken south to Mexico City in three groups. The third included Kendall and 186 other men. It was escorted by Mexican militia Captain Damasio Salazar and roughly 150 guards.

Salazar, hurrying to get this largest of the three groups south to El Paso del Norte before winter set in, did not spare his guards or the Texans, the majority of whom were still weak from their ordeal on the Eastern Plains. Five died, three from natural causes. Kendall’s Narrative blames Salazar for all these deaths, painting him as such a monster that the Americans who invaded New Mexico five years later made it one of their first tasks to hunt the Captain down.

The fact that these men made finding Salazar a priority points to the popularity of Kendall’s Narrative and its impact in the run-up to the Mexican-American War. Indeed, it could be argued that Kendall accompanied the Texas Expedition with the sole purpose of providing a reconnaissance report for the conflict on the horizon. From El Paso to Mexico City, he provides details about distances, road conditions,  and fortifications, as well as his perception of the make-up and morale of Mexico’s military.

The way Kendall’s Narrative blames the Mexicans for not welcoming the invading Texans with open arms, brushes aside the gifts of food and clothing they did receive, and lays out information useful for a military incursion is almost breathtaking in its audacity. And yet his readers seem to have accepted his assertions without question. This makes the Narrative a useful example of the risks of reading uncritically, something that is still a danger for us today.

If you are interested in exploring historical sources with an eye to reading between the lines and trying to determine what might have really happened, and if you can stomach racist attitudes throughout the text, then I suggest you pick up a copy of Kendall’s Narrative and read it in light of the inception and outcome of the subsequent 1846 invasion. You may find it quite enlightening.

George Wilkins Kendall Sails for New Mexico

On Monday, May 17, 1841 journalist George Wilkins Kendall sailed from New Orleans, Louisiana to join an expedition the Texas Republic was sending to Santa Fé, New Mexico.

Santa Fé had been a major destination of Americans heading west from Missouri for the past twenty years. Many had returned home wealthy. The Texans wanted to break a trail from Austin that would move that trade south to them instead. The resulting profits could prove critical to the Texan coffers, which were verging on empty.

If the Texans had only intended to trade, the reception the Texas Santa Fe Expedition received might have been different. But five years before, their Legislature had declared that Santa Fé and all its wealth was inside Texan borders. This was followed by President Mirabeau Bonaparte Lamar’s open letter in Spring 1840 telling the New Mexicans the Rio Grande was “the natural and convenient boundary” of Texas and that “we shall take great pleasure in hailing you as fellow citizens.”  

Lamar promised to send an expedition in September 1840, with commissioners who would “cement the perfect union” of Santa Fé and Texas. These men would “be accompanied by a military escort for the purpose of repelling any hostile Indians that may infest the passage.”

George Wilkins Kendall, circa 1837. Source: Kendall of the Picayune, by Fayette Copeland

The Expedition he sent, which was comprised of three Commissioners, their staff members and companions, roughly ten merchants, and around 270 soldiers, was a little late getting started. It left Austin in June 1841. In the meantime, New Mexico Governor Manual Armijo had been busy gathering his resources while keeping a close eye on the Americans in New Mexico.

Although the Texans had been led to believe they would be welcomed to Santa Fé with open arms, they would find the situation a little more complicated than they assumed. George Kendall had estimated his journey would take a pleasant four months. It would actually be twelve, the majority of them uncomfortable, including time in a Mexican prison. 

All because he didn’t take the time before he left New Orleans to check whether Mexico agreed with the Texan desire to take over the Santa Fé trade.  

Loretta Miles Tollefson, copyright 5/15/23