John “Liver-Eating” Johnston, born John Garrison in 1824 in Little York, New Jersey, emerged from humble beginnings to become one of the American West’s most enduring legends. Little is known of his early years, but by the 1840s, he had ventured into the untamed frontier, likely driven by a restless spirit and the promise of freedom in the wild. Standing over six feet tall and built like a bear, Johnston was a formidable figure, perfectly suited for the harsh life of a mountain man. He trapped furs, hunted game, and navigated the Rockies with an instinct that made him a natural in the wilderness.
It was in the Montana Territory that Johnston’s life took a fateful turn. Around 1847, he married a woman from the Flathead tribe, whose name is often recorded as Swan. Their union was brief but profound, marked by love and tragedy. According to frontier lore, Swan was killed by members of the Crow tribe while Johnston was away. The loss ignited a personal vendetta that would define his legacy. Whether the story is fully true or embellished by time, it set the stage for Johnston’s transformation into the fearsome “Liver-Eating” Johnston—a name that struck terror into the hearts of those who heard it.
The Blood Feud: Truth or Tall Tale?
The most infamous aspect of Johnston’s legend is his supposed practice of eating the livers of Crow warriors he killed in vengeance for his wife’s death. The tale, rooted in oral tradition, paints a gruesome picture: Johnston, driven by grief and rage, waged a one-man war against the Crow, killing dozens and consuming their livers as a ritualistic act of defiance. This act was said to be a deliberate affront to Crow spiritual beliefs, which held the liver as sacred. The story spread like wildfire, cementing Johnston’s reputation as a relentless avenger.
Historians, however, debate the veracity of these claims. Some argue the liver-eating tale was exaggerated by trappers and storytellers, a product of the frontier’s penchant for mythmaking. No definitive evidence confirms Johnston consumed human livers, and some accounts suggest the nickname may have originated as a misunderstanding or a way to amplify his fearsome persona. What is certain is that Johnston clashed repeatedly with the Crow and other tribes, often in brutal encounters. His vendetta, spanning nearly two decades, was fueled by the raw pain of loss and the unforgiving code of the frontier, where personal justice often trumped law.
The Crow, for their part, were a powerful and respected tribe, skilled in warfare and survival. Johnston’s feud with them was not one-sided; he faced relentless pursuit and ambushes, surviving through cunning and sheer tenacity. The conflict was less a scripted saga of revenge than a chaotic, bloody struggle shaped by cultural misunderstandings and the violent realities of the time. Johnston’s story, while romanticized, reveals a painful truth: the frontier was a place of unrelenting hardship, where personal tragedy could spiral into cycles of violence.
Jeremiah Johnson: From Legend to Silver Screen
In 1972, Johnston’s story reached a wider audience through the film Jeremiah Johnson, directed by Sydney Pollack and starring Robert Redford. The movie, inspired by Vardis Fisher’s novel Mountain Man and Raymond Thorp and Robert Bunker’s biography Crow Killer, distilled Johnston’s complex life into a poetic tale of a man seeking solace in the wilderness. Redford’s portrayal captured the essence of a loner wrestling with nature’s beauty and brutality, though it softened some of the legend’s darker edges. The film focused on Johnston’s quest for solitude, his brief happiness with Swan, and the inevitable violence that followed her death.
Filming Jeremiah Johnson was a grueling endeavor, mirroring the rugged life it depicted. Shot in the remote wilderness of Utah and Arizona, the production faced blizzards, subzero temperatures, and treacherous terrain. Redford, deeply committed to authenticity, endured the harsh conditions alongside the crew. “It was tough, dangerous work, but that was the point,” Redford later recalled. “We wanted it to feel as raw and real as the life this man lived.” The film’s stark cinematography and sparse dialogue evoked the silence of the mountains, making it a cinematic tribute to the frontier’s untamed spirit.
The movie also reflected Redford’s personal connection to the West. His love for nature and disdain for encroaching modernity echoed Johnston’s own rejection of society. This connection later inspired Redford to establish the Sundance Institute in Utah, a haven for independent filmmakers that embodied his vision of preserving creativity and open spaces.
A Final Journey: Redford as Pallbearer
In 1974, two years after Jeremiah Johnson hit theaters, Robert Redford found himself linked to Johnston once more—this time not as an actor, but as a pallbearer. Johnston had died in 1900 in a Los Angeles veterans’ hospital, his legend largely forgotten. His remains were buried in a veterans’ cemetery in the city, far from the mountains he called home. Decades later, a group of students and residents in Cody, Wyoming, launched a campaign to bring Johnston’s remains to a more fitting resting place. Their efforts culminated in a reburial ceremony in Cody, a town steeped in the history of the American West.
Redford, who had come to embody Johnston through his role, was invited to serve as a pallbearer. The moment was surreal: a Hollywood icon carrying the casket of the real-life figure he had portrayed, bridging the gap between history and cinema. For those present, it felt as though Johnston himself was being escorted back to the frontier. The reburial site, near the Shoshone River, was a nod to the landscapes that shaped his life. Redford’s participation underscored his respect for Johnston’s legacy and the enduring power of the mountain man’s story.
The Legacy of “Liver-Eating” Johnston
John Johnston’s life, whether fact or folklore, remains a testament to the raw, unfiltered spirit of the American frontier. His feud with the Crow, born of personal tragedy, reveals the brutal realities of a world where survival often demanded violence. The legend of his liver-eating exploits, while possibly exaggerated, reflects the larger-than-life storytelling that defined the West. Through Jeremiah Johnson, his story reached millions, with Redford’s portrayal capturing the solitude and struggle of a man at odds with both nature and himself.
Redford’s involvement in the 1974 reburial added a final chapter to this saga, uniting the myth and the man in a poignant act of homage. Today, Johnston’s grave in Cody stands as a pilgrimage site for those drawn to the lore of the frontier. His story, like the mountains he roamed, endures as a symbol of resilience, vengeance, and the unrelenting search for freedom in a world that spares no one.