By: Janet L. Gemmell, Board Certified Family Law Specialist, Attorney, Traveler, CEO at Cape Fear Family Law
You know you’re having a good road‑trip day when you pull off the interstate for a quick Diet Pepsi (or Celcius if you are feeling a bit punky), see a former mall that looked interesting, and end up in front of the Blackhawk Museum in Danville, California. As a plus‑size, game‑loving solo traveler, I usually plan my detours around the nearest Ms. Pac‑Man machine, but the lion statue out front looked as if it were guarding something special—and my inner history geek couldn’t resist.
Stumbling into a frontier master‑class
Even before I could get myself upstairs to see the “Spirit of the Old West” gallery, I walked straight to rows of chairs facing a small platform with an overhead projection of a book cover. A gentleman in a dapper cowboy hat and silver trimmed Western style shirt adjusted his notes while a museum staffer whispered, “That’s Art T. Burton—the Bass Reeves guy.” Reader, I sprinted (well… power‑strode; these thighs don’t do 40‑yard dashes) to a seat.
Several rows up sat Burton’s wife, resplendent in a gorgeous ensemble and the kind of patient, supportive smile only a historian’s spouse can perfect. Watching them—researcher and life‑partner—felt like witnessing living proof that Black love and Black scholarship build each other.
When the Q‑and‑A wrapped, I hustled to the signing table. Burton inscribed Black Gun, Silver Star (freshly re‑released in an expanded edition) with a flourish: “Keep riding for justice!” I clutched the book like a golden ticket and, in a burst of fangirl bravado, asked what kept him chasing frontier footnotes for four decades. He grinned:
“Bass Reeves wasn’t just the greatest lawman of the frontier era; he was probably the greatest hero in America’s frontier history.” (newson6.com)
Mic. Dropped.
Why this matters on Juneteenth
Juneteenth commemorates news of emancipation reaching the last enslaved people in Galveston, but freedom is hollow without narrative. For generations, mainstream textbooks rendered Black achievement a cameo—an obligatory and sometimes honestly non-existent Harriet‑Tubman‑and‑then‑back‑to‑cowboys footnote. Burton’s work (and the museums and publishers now amplifying it) signals a sea‑change: doors once padlocked on Black western history – all Black history – are swinging open for families to walk through together. No longer is February the only month we celebrate Black accomplishments in America.
Consider the payoff:
| Old Myth | Newly Documented Reality | Family Take‑Away |
|---|---|---|
| Reeves—an African‑American marshal who rode a grey horse and used disguises—may have inspired the legend. | Kids learn that heroism comes in every shade. | Kids learn that heroism comes in every shade. |
| “Black people showed up out West only as cowhands and run away slaves.” | Reeves, Mary Fields (“Stagecoach Mary”), Nat Love, and Cherokee Bill formed a mosaic of lawmen, business‑owners, and, yes, outlaws. | Teens grasp that career options—and moral choices—have always been complex in black communities and America. |
| “Frontier families were nuclear and white.” | Free and formerly enslaved Black families forged kin‑networks with Native nations, Mexicano settlers, and Chinese railroad workers. | Parents see a template for blended, resilient families today. |
As a family‑law attorney, I spend my weekdays untangling custody conflicts. One pattern is constant: children thrive when they know their family stories. Psychologists call it the “intergenerational self”—the protective layer that forms when a child can say, “My people overcame worse, and I can too.” Burton’s archival digging and artful prose offers precisely those stories. The people he pulls from history are full technicolor and complex.
The research renaissance—why now?
- Digitization & DNA – University archives are scanning troves of Freedmen’s Bureau papers, land patents, and frontier court dockets. Add affordable DNA tests, and suddenly Aunt Bessie’s rumor about a great‑grandfather in Indian Territory has truth, but please don’t tell her!
- Streaming & Pop Culture – A certain Yellowstone‑adjacent TV miniseries has Americans Googling “Who was Bass Reeves?” faster than teenage me searched cheat codes for pinball high scores. Lawmen Bass Reeves, which should have consulted a bit more with Burton, is still a great story from it’s one season in 2023.
- Academic Recognition – Publishers like the University of Nebraska Press keep issuing updated editions (hello, 2024 version of Black Gun, Silver Star) that weave scholarship with popular appeal. (nebraskapress.unl.edu)
- Museums Opening Their Doors – Institutions such as the Blackhawk Museum bring to the publictalks that foreground Black voices in western history instead of relegating them to a corner display. (blackhawkmuseum.org)
What families can do this Juneteenth
- Read together. Pick a chapter from Burton’s book before the barbecue and let each family member share one revelation. (Pro tip: the gunfight stories are crowd‑pleasers for tweens.)
- Visit a local exhibit. If California is a stretch, many museums stream virtual tours. Make popcorn; call it “Frontier Netflix.”
- Archive your own elders. Turn your phone into a time machine: record Nana recounting her first job, then store the audio where future grand‑kids can click “play.”
- Gamify the past. My Ms. Pac‑Man cabinet now sports sticky‑notes with QR codes linking to Bass Reeves articles. Beat my high score? You earn context.
A laugh—and a lesson—from the trail
I left the Blackhawk parking lot attempting a quick draw with my reusable water bottle (spoiler: hydration won). Yet somewhere between Danville and the next gas station, it hit me: the stories we collect on the road become tools in courtrooms, classrooms, and living rooms. When families—Black, brown, or otherwise—encounter heroes like Reeves, they gain a blueprint for resilience and righteous mischief.
So this Juneteenth, celebrate freedom’s echoes, not just its announcement. Read what historians like Art T. Burton have excavated. Share those nuggets with your kiddos before they share another TikTok dance with you. And if you see me hogging the Ms. Pac‑Man machine at a roadside arcade, know that every “wakka‑wakka” is accompanied by a silent toast to Bass Reeves—the marshal (and one of my new heroes) who proved that justice, like Pac‑Dots, comes one determined chomp at a time.
Happy Juneteenth, y’all. Keep riding for justice—preferably with good snacks and a signed first edition tucked in your saddlebag.
