The Treachery of Mike Fink
By Hiram Martin Chittenden in 1902
The saga of Mike Fink is etched into the annals of early Western history, a figure whose documented exploits were so extraordinary that they often blurred the line between reality and folklore. Born in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, Mike Fink possessed a limited formal education, a fact he often mocked. He deliberately butchered the spelling of his name as "Micke Phinck" and revelled in the crude jargon prevalent among the unrefined boatmen who plied the Western rivers.
From an early age, Mike Fink was captivated by the allure of river life. The sound of the boat horn held an irresistible charm for him, and he soon mastered the art of mimicking its distinct call. So proficient was he that upon joining his first keelboat crew, he could perform the duties of a trumpeter without the need for an actual instrument. The untamed freedom of the river perfectly suited his adventurous spirit, and he yearned to explore its most distant reaches, including the fabled city of New Orleans, Louisiana, where he’d heard tales of inhabitants who spoke French and wore their finest attire throughout the week.
During periods when the river’s water level was too low for navigation, Mike Fink would typically spend his time in and around Pittsburgh, honing his skills as a marksman by hunting squirrels and participating in the popular Saturday shooting matches and militia musters.
He quickly gained notoriety as the most skilled shot in the region, earning the nickname "Bangall." His exceptional abilities, however, led to his exclusion from the matches. As compensation, he was granted the "fifth quarter" of the beef, which consisted of the hide and tallow. Typically, he would exchange his "quarter" at a local dram shop for whiskey, which he would then share generously, primarily with himself. He developed a fondness for strong drink, yet he seemed immune to its intoxicating effects, capable of consuming a gallon within a 24-hour period without displaying any signs of inebriation.
His colorful vernacular was a quintessential example of the "half-horse, half-alligator" dialect characteristic of the early river boatmen. He possessed a sharp wit, a trait that garnered him both admiration and trepidation among his fellow boatmen. This was because he often enforced his jokes with a sound thrashing if anyone dared to refrain from laughing at them. He was known to declare that his jokes were intended to be laughed at, and no one should take them lightly. As a result, Mike was invariably surrounded by a group of sycophants who feared his displeasure as much as a vassal might fear the wrath of his lord.
Mike Fink was known to proclaim himself a "Salt River roarer, and I love the winning, and as how I am chock full of fight." He also boasted of having a lady in every port who would "fight their deaths" in his defense.
Among his closest companions were William Carpenter and Levi Talbot, both renowned for their prowess and unwavering loyalty to Mike Fink. Each of the three was a match for the others in terms of fighting ability and marksmanship, and all were well-versed in the virtues and intricacies of Mike’s chosen profession.
Mike Fink’s physical stature was imposing. He stood approximately five feet nine inches tall and weighed around 180 pounds. He had a broad, round face with pleasant features, a complexion tanned by the relentless sun and rain, blue eyes with a hint of grey, broad white teeth, and a square, muscular frame that exuded strength and agility. Apart from his height, he possessed the ideal physique of a Hercules.
As previously mentioned, he was an exceptional marksman, and numerous accounts of his shooting feats have been passed down by those who claimed to have witnessed them. One such incident occurred while he was traveling up the Mississippi River above the Ohio River’s mouth. He spotted a sow with a litter of eight or nine piglets on the riverbank. Expressing his desire for "pig" in typical boatman fashion, he raised his rifle to shoot one. Despite requests to refrain, he aimed his rifle as the boat glided along the river under a gentle sail, approximately 40-50 yards from the shore. He proceeded to shoot at each piglet in succession, skillfully severing their tails close to their bodies without inflicting any other harm.
In 1821, while standing on the levee in St. Louis, Missouri, he noticed a young black boy on the riverbank, idly observing the surrounding activity. The boy possessed a distinctly shaped foot, a characteristic common among certain African tribes. His heel protruded so far back that it appeared to extend as much behind his leg as it did in front. This unusual form offended Mike’s sense of aesthetics and symmetry, and he decided to rectify it. Raising his rifle at a distance of 30 paces, he shot away the protruding heel, causing a painful wound. The boy collapsed to the ground, screaming "murder!" Mike was subsequently indicted in the county’s circuit court, tried, and found guilty. His defense was that he simply wanted to improve the boy’s foot so that he could wear a fashionable boot. The severity of Mike’s punishment, which is not explicitly stated, could not have been excessive, as he was at liberty by the spring of 1822.
Mike’s close friend, William Carpenter, was also a skilled marksman. It was a common practice for Mike and William to fill a tin cup with whiskey and shoot it off each other’s heads from a distance of 70 yards. The feat was consistently executed flawlessly, with the cup pierced without causing any injury to the person supporting it. This was a favorite display of confidence between the two men.
Mike first visited St. Louis, Missouri, in 1814 or 1815 and frequented the city afterward. In 1822, he and his two friends, Talbot and Carpenter, enlisted in the company that William Henry Ashley and Andrew Henry were organizing to establish trade with the mountain tribes. They were hired as boatmen, trappers, and hunters. The company journeyed as far as the mouth of the Yellowstone River, where a fort was constructed. From there, the party was divided into detachments and sent out to trap along the tributaries of the Missouri and Yellowstone Rivers. Mike and his friends, along with nine others, ventured to the Musselshell River, where they established a comfortable winter camp.
During their time there, Fink and Carpenter engaged in a heated quarrel, which was temporarily resolved through the intervention of their friends. The exact cause of the dispute remains uncertain, but it appears that a woman, an Indian woman, was involved, and the two men had become rivals for her affections. Upon the arrival of spring, the small party returned to the fort, where their simmering animosity erupted once more over a bottle of whiskey. Again, they agreed to a truce, and to demonstrate their sincerity, Mike proposed that they reenact their familiar whiskey cup shooting feat. This would serve as both a testament to their reconciliation and a display of mutual trust and confidence.
The first matter to be settled was who would take the first shot. To resolve this, Mike suggested "skying a copper," or flipping a coin. Mike won the toss and secured the first shot. Carpenter, aware of Mike’s unwavering hatred, expressed his belief that Mike intended to betray him and would certainly kill him. However, he valued his life too little to break their agreement and prepared to face his fate. He bequeathed his rifle, bullet pouch, powder horn, belt, pistol, and wages to Talbot before proceeding to the designated location. He filled his cup with whiskey and placed it on his head, standing erect and composed, his expression betraying nothing of the turmoil within. Mike loaded his rifle and primed the flint at a distance of 60 yards. After taking aim, he lowered his rifle and said with a smile, "Hold your noddle steady, Carpenter, and don’t spill the whiskey, as I shall want some presently." He raised his rifle again, and in an instant, Carpenter collapsed, dying without a sound. The bullet had pierced his forehead in the center, an inch and a half above his eyes. Mike nonchalantly rested the butt of his gun on the ground, placed his mouth to the muzzle, and blew the smoke out of the barrel, all the while keeping his gaze fixed on the lifeless form of his former friend. Finally, he declared, "Carpenter, you have spilled the whiskey!" He was informed that he had killed Carpenter. "It’s all a mistake," he protested, "for I took as fine a bead on the black spot on the cup as I ever took on a squirrel’s eye. How did it happen?" He then cursed his rifle, the bullet, and ultimately himself.
In this remote region, where the reach of the law was non-existent, and among a group who held an exaggerated fear of Mike’s prowess, the crime was dismissed as an accident, and Mike was allowed to remain free. However, Levi Talbot, Carpenter’s loyal friend, was convinced of Mike’s treachery and vowed to avenge his death at the first opportunity. Some months later, Mike, in a moment of boastful candor, admitted that he had deliberately killed Carpenter and was glad of it. Talbot immediately drew his pistol, the same one that Carpenter had bequeathed to him, and shot Mike through the heart. Mike fell to the ground and died without uttering a word.
Talbot was also not held accountable, as no one possessed the authority to do so, and few likely felt any inclination, considering it a just retribution for Carpenter’s murder. Moreover, Talbot was a formidable enemy, as dangerous and ferocious as a grizzly bear. About three months later, he participated in the Arikara battle under Colonel Henry Leavenworth, displaying a composure that would have been commendable in a more honorable man. He emerged from the battle unscathed, but approximately ten days later, he drowned while attempting to swim across the Teton River.
As incredible as this story may seem, it is supported by authentic evidence. In General Clark’s letter book on Indian Affairs, currently held by the Kansas Historical Society in Topeka, there is a list of deaths among the Ashley, Smith, Jackson, and Sublette parties before 1830. The statement indicates that in 1822, Mike Fink shot William Carpenter; that Fink was subsequently shot by Levi Talbot, who later drowned in the Teton River. The correct year should be 1823.
The following notice appeared in the St. Louis Republican on July 16, 1823:
"By a letter received in town from one of General Ashley’s expeditions, we are informed that a man by the name of Mike Fink, well known in this quarter as a great marksman with the rifle, and is the same who some time since in this place shot off a black boy’s heel to enable him, as he said, to wear a genteel boot! was engaged in his favorite amusement of shooting a tin cup from the head of another man when, by aiming too low or from some other cause, shot his companion in the forehead and killed him. Another man of the expedition (whose name we have not yet heard) remonstrated against Fink’s conduct, to which he (Fink) replied that he would kill him likewise, upon which the other drew a pistol and shot Fink dead on the spot."
Compiled and edited by Kathy Weiser, updated October 2022.
About the Author: This article was written by Hiram Martin Chittenden and included in his book, The American Fur Trade of the Far West, published in 1902. Chittenden served in the Corps of Engineers, eventually reaching the rank of Brigadier General. He was in charge of many notable projects during this time, including work at the Yellowstone and Yosemite National Parks and the Lake Washington Canal Project. He was also an author, penning historical volumes, tour guides, and poetry. As it appears here, the story is not verbatim, as it has been edited for clarity and ease for the modern reader.
Also See:
- Mike Fink Biography
- The Great Fur Trade Companies
- Incidents of the Fur Trade
- List of Old West Explorers, Trappers, Traders & Mountain Men
- Trappers, Traders & Pathfinders