Sam Houston Wasn’t a Great Man by Danielle Brissette

By Danielle R. Brissette

There is a theory that was popular in the nineteenth century called the “Great Man Theory.” Thomas Carlyle defined it by saying that “the history of the world is but the biography of great men.”  Essentially, history is shaped by a handful of heroes, great men with great influence. Think of Charlemagne, Napoleon, Alexander the Great, George Washington and, as some suggest, Sam Houston. Although this theory has been much debated, our contemporary educational philosophy for teaching history seems to follow these men (and they are, almost universally, men) across time and nations as a way of framing the past. It is easy to argue that by focusing on our heroes history acquires substance, a point of reference, and through that, meaning for its students. 

It is also easy to see why someone might argue that Sam Houston was a Great Man. He was the first and third president of Texas, the hero of the Battle of San Jacinto, an U.S. congressman, an adopted son of the Cherokee nation, a close friend of President Andrew Jackson, and the only man to be governor of two states, just to name a few of his more notable accomplishments.  

However, I disagree. Sam Houston was not a great man. He was, as we all are, simply a man with foibles, flaws, and faults surprisingly similar to those that many of us face today. It is this theme I wish to explore.

Sam Houston was not lucky in love. His first wife, the eighteen year old Eliza Allen, left him after three scant months of marriage. This action rocked Sam hard, personally and politically. Pursued by gossip and a broken heart, Sam resigned his governorship of Tennessee and tried to run away from his problems by returning to his Cherokee friends. In a letter to President Andrew Jackson he said, “And now that domestic misfortune; of which I say nothing; and about which there are ten thousand imputed slanders; has come upon; as a black cloud at noonday I am to be hunted down! What am I? an Exile from my home; and my country, a houseless unshelter'd wanderer, among the Indians!” (11 May 1829). 

                Sam’s time with the Cherokee was not particularly happy. He was depressed and, as Marquis James describes it, “gave himself up to the fatal enchantress of alcohol.” His adopted family stopped calling him “the Raven” and started calling him “the Big Drunk” as he sank further and further into alcoholism. Was this descent part of his efforts to escape his distress over his marriage? Almost certainly. Part of the reason might have also been actual physical pain. Shot during the Battle of Horseshoe Bend years earlier, Sam’s wound had never healed. It oozed blood and pus until his dying day and had to be bandaged every twenty-four hours. Certainly, this caused him a great amount of pain which the alcohol would have helped to dull or abate. But the whiskey also impaired his judgment and his abilities, made him the butt of jokes, and cured absolutely nothing. 

Eventually, Sam married a Cherokee woman named Tiana Rogers. He surfaced somewhat from his drunken state and they opened a trading post together, the Wigwam Neosho. Eventually, that too came to an end; the couple divorced (amicably, it seems) according to Cherokee custom and went on their separate ways. Tiana remained with the trading post, and Sam moved on to Texas. Two marriages down the drain, and again Sam outdistanced his problems by moving South. 

                This move was, perhaps, one of Sam Houston’s best decisions. It led to a fulfilling political career, introduced him to his third and final wife, Margaret, who gave him a full home and generally happy house. She also required of him sobriety and clean language. With happiness came some sorrow as politics kept Sam away from home much of the time, and the distance was felt by the whole family. 

                I’m telling these stories not to belittle Sam in any way. I don’t want to air his dirty laundry just because I can. In my opinion, Sam Houston’s flaws serve to make him human. Who can say they do not know someone who suffers from heartache? In our modern day, with nearly half of marriages ending in divorce, what family cannot empathize with Sam, Eliza, and Tiana? Alcoholism and addiction are still common illnesses. Many of us know, first or secondhand, the overwhelming darkness of depression. And who has not, at one point, wished to simply run away? Sam’s foibles make his accomplishments all the more impressive, but also all the more relatable. He would have fit in at that AA meeting. Or at your family reunion. He’d be that guy reading the Iliad in the doctor’s office’s waiting room. Or skyping with his kids in Starbucks. 

We, like Sam, are flawed. He, like us, is great.