Arizona Legends and Lore

Sarah was born in Clay County, Missouri, in 1812. Life in Missouri in those days was a primitive existence. Sarah, had she taken the usual path of her sex, would have lived an isolated life on a frontier farm. Dressed in worn faded gingham, with little chance of receiving even a rudimentary education, she would have married as a young teenager and produced child after child on a yearly basis. She would have lived out her life in the confines of her homestead with little opportunity of ever seeing any other part of the world besides the region where she lived.

But for Sarah Bowman, circumstance was to dictate otherwise. By the time Sarah was seventeen years old, she had grown to over six feet. In 1829, the average man was approximately five feet five inches, and women were of even smaller dimensions. A life of anonymity was not to be the fate of any young woman whose well-proportioned figure rose to the startling height of six feet two inches. Yet, nature seemed determined to add even more: her head was crowned with an abundant halo of burnished copper-colored hair.

Sarah observed the life around her in Missouri and knew she was meant for bigger and better things. As a young woman, she married Adolfus Aue, who dreamed of the adventure and excitement of a military life. She insisted on joining him, becoming a laundress and cook for the army during the Seminole War in Florida. Her new life agreed with her. She liked the free, easy ways of the military. She reveled in the company of men, enjoying their masculine attention. She welcomed her new life as a thirsty animal welcomes the rain.

The records tell us only that Sarah lost her first husband. She also had children, but nothing is known of them. As a camp follower, there was no real place for children in the military life, so she very probably farmed them out to relatives and friends.

By 1846, Sarah, now in her thirties, was in Texas following General Zachary Taylor’s army as it prepared to engage in the Mexican War. She was married once again, this time to a Charles Bourgette of the Fifth Infantry.

Zack Taylor moved his relatively small army of mostly volunteers across the southern coast to Texas. When they arrived at an arroyo of the Colorado River, they discovered the Mexicans lined up on the other side. A messenger from the Mexican commandant informed General Taylor that, if he crossed the river, he would be fired upon.

Sarah, indignant with the Mexicans, was heard to tell some of the soldiers that if the general would give her a sturdy pair of trousers (they were called tongs in those days), she would personally wade across the river and whip every Mexican scoundrel who showed his face. The men cheered. If their Sarah, who was nicknamed “the Great Western” after the largest steam ship in the United States at that time, was not afraid, why should they be?

General Taylor was not easily bluffed. The men crossed without drawing fire. When the army reached the Rio Grande River, they began to build a fort nearby which they named Fort Texas. Later the name was changed to Fort Brown.

Taylor, a hard-nosed military man, was worried about the security of his supply line route. Taking part of his army, which included Sarah’s husband, he marched to the coast to strengthen the line. The general left the women and the Seventh Infantry to maintain and guard the fort.

The Mexicans, recognizing the vulnerability of Fort Brown, began to bombard it from across the river. The women were ordered to retreat to the relative safety of some nearby empty magazines, where arms and ammunition were normally stored. They were ordered to sew sandbags from the canvas of the officers’ tents.

Sarah refused to sew. She refused to go with the other women to the protection of the magazines. If their men were out there being fired upon, the least someone could do was feed them. She set up a kitchen in the middle of the fort. Throughout the bombardment, she made certain that there was always coffee for the men and, with what meager supplies she had, she made them tasty meals.

Stray bullets came close: one went through her bonnet, one hit a tray of coffee that she was carrying. But, in spite of the palpable danger, Sarah remained cheerful. She helped care for the wounded. She had made up her mind that no one was going to endure all that danger without a helping hand, a hot meal, or some consoling nursing.

Six days of sitting in this hell of bombardment abruptly stopped when Taylor returned with the remainder of his forces. By this time, Sarah was not only known as the Great Western, she was now also the heroine of Fort Brown. The price of her new fame was high; she had become a widow. Charles Bourgette had been killed securing General Taylor’s supply line.

The United States Army moved south of the Rio Grande to the town of Saltillo, located in the central mountains of Mexico. There Sarah set up the American House for the soldiers. It was a meeting place, boarding house, a place to leave letters, notes, messages and a place to socialize. Sarah also set about the task of learning Spanish so she could converse with the Mexicans she had hired. She soon became quite proficient in the language.

Sarah always cared about the needs of the men, all their needs. She had a group of willing young Mexican girls to help them pass away the nights. One of the men remembered her fondly. “I could stand at full attention, my head flung back,” he said, “and she would just stand there in front of me flat-footed and drop one of those cherry-tipped melons of hers into my mouth. To a man on the eve of death, it was the taste of paradise.” She was a businesswoman who knew how to make a business flourish.

But there was a war to be fought. The Mexicans under General Santa Ana decided to attack Saltillo. Taylor chose to take his army and meet them out in a neighboring area called Buena Vista.

Sarah, never one to sit behind the sidelines, chose to be in the thick of it during the battle. The men would need some soiled angels of mercy. She closed down the American House and loaded up her wagons with her girls and all the supplies she could carry. She set herself up next to the doctor’s tent. The time would be coming soon when he would need all the help he could get. She would help with the wounded. She would carry them out of the battlefields. She would dress their wounds.

When everything was set up, in anticipation of the battle, Sarah climbed up the 6,000-foot hill, the highest point in the area. There she watched 20,000 Mexican soldiers spread out across the Buena Vista plain. The view was spectacular. She watched as the Mexican bands played music for a solemn Mass as the priests and clergy processed into the field to give benediction and communion. It was an awesome sight, made even more so by the knowledge that General Taylor had a mere 5,000 men in his opposing force, many of them new untried recruits.

She watched as the battle began. Later, during the fighting, Sarah and Dutch Mary strung kettles of hot coffee across their shoulders and walked onto the battlefield. Sarah always carried two pistols in her belt. She was an excellent shot. If she had to, she was ready to fight.

One time a young soldier, panicked by the horrifying din of battle, yelled at her that all was lost. “Retreat,” he said, “we’re all going to be killed.”

Such panic was not to be tolerated in the heat of war. Sarah turned around and punched him in the face, sending him sprawling. Then, in case he hadn’t yet figured out her message, she roared obscenities at him. “No bunch of Mexicans are going to whip old Taylor. Now get out there and fight. I’m right behind you.”

The men cheered. She gave them courage to go on. With their Bowie knives between their teeth, they literally hacked the enemy to pieces. The Mexican soldiers began to scream, “Devils, red devils!” Then they began to retreat.

Voluptuous in the boudoir and tough in the battlefield, there was a soft side to this woman. She wept when she heard that Captain George Lincoln, a cousin to Abraham Lincoln, had been killed. Sarah had known Captain Lincoln from the time when her first husband had signed up with the military. They had been friends that long while. Often he had come to dine at her American House. She went alone into the quiet battlefield that night and searched among the dead until she found his body. No one was going to desecrate his remains. Tenderly she brought him back for a decent burial. Later she bought the Captain’s horse at a considerable expense. In time, she sent the horse back to Lincoln’s mother. It was a gesture that no one forgot.

The men noticed. They remembered their great golden girl, Sarah. She bound their wounds, nurtured their bodies and when they were well again, she and her girls gave those same bodies joyful, exuberant pleasure.

The signing of the treaty of Guadalupe-Hidalgo ended the war. General Winfield Scott awarded Sarah a commission of a brevet colonel for her bravery and services to the army. She was also given a pension by the United States government.

After the war, a small unit made up of First and Second Dragoons and a battery of light artillery, headed by Lieutenant Colonel John Washington, decided to continue westward to occupy the areas of New Mexico and California.

Sarah went to Colonel Washington riding a great white horse, wearing a brilliant royal purple riding habit and sporting a cavalier’s hat decorated with a white plume. “Colonel Washington, I’d like permission to join the unit and travel west with you.”

“Sarah,” Colonel Washington replied, “you must be married to one of our military men and then be mustered in as a laundress before I can allow you to join us.”

Sarah gave the Colonel a snappy salute and said, “All right, Major, I’ll marry the whole squadron and you thrown in, but I intend to go along.”

Riding down the line of assembled soldiers, Sarah called out, “Who wants a wife with $15,000 and the biggest legs in the country?” The men stared at her dumbfounded. This was an offer that took their breath away. “Come on, gentlemen,” she laughed with a toss of her head, “don’t all speak at once. Who is to be the lucky man?”

Finally a man in Company E, named Davis, spoke up. “I’ve no objection to making you my wife, if there is a clergyman here to tie the knot.”

Our heroine chuckled and replied, “Bring your blanket to my tent tonight and I reckon that I can teach you to tie some knots that will be satisfying to you.”

While the unit was traveling in Mexico near the city of Chihuahua, Sarah had a change of heart about Davis. Surrounded by men considerably smaller than herself, Sarah one day saw a man among a group of New Mexican traders whose size and strength were compatible with her own. Her first view of him was while he was bathing. Completely taken with his impressive proportions, she contrived every way she could to get a chance to meet him. When finally she did, she blushingly told him of her desire for a man of her own dimension. “We’ll fit together right,” she said.

Impressed by her curvacious charms, he succumbed to her request. Davis was almost forgotten. She told him it was over. She had found a Herculean new love.

Sarah did not continue to California with the army, nor did she remain with her great Adonis. She became ill and upon recovery set up a small hotel on the southern side of the Rio Grande River at El Paso del Norte, a town now known as Ciudad Juarez. There she catered to the needs of settlers en route to the West. It soon proved impossible to meet the needs of the hordes of settlers anxiously trying to keep provisioned while traveling to the California gold fields. Food and livestock were often stolen. This was the first time in years that Sarah was separated from the protection of the army. Times were hard. She missed her soldiers.

Sarah decided to move across the river to the American side and there, with a partner, started a hotel and restaurant. Things went well for awhile. Her dining room attracted many patrons because of her good cooking and her courteous and amiable ways. But in the end, she was obliged to close down the hotel and turn it over to the army as its headquarters.

It was time for Sarah to move on. Then she met Albert Bowman of the Second Dragoons. Although she was fifteen years older than he, she never told him that, acknowledging only to a nine-year difference. They soon married.

She had been a camp follower for years. She loved to wear vivid colors, violet and red velvet, and glamorous hats. She always carried a pistol. But, she was at the same time modest and womanly, kind and motherly. Bowman had been born in Germany, had migrated to New York City, was an upholsterer for awhile and then joined the army, becoming a sergeant. In spite of their diverse backgrounds, the attraction was a strong one. They continued the relationship for almost sixteen years.

On November 30, 1852, Sergeant Bowman was discharged from the army and the couple moved to Fort Yuma on the Colorado River. Sarah Bowman became the first white woman to live there. She helped provide an army hospital. She started a hotel and tavern where the men could go drink, dance and gamble. Except for a brief sojourn away during the Civil War, she was to remain in Fort Yuma for the rest of her life.

At that time Fort Yuma was under the command of a Major Samuel Peter Heintzelman. Not happy with his posting, this small, bearded, somewhat fuss-budget of a man revealed in his journals a love-hate attraction toward Sarah. He could not reconcile himself with the fact that although Sarah was married, a good cook, generous and kindly, she provided the men with young Mexican and Indian girls who stayed with her but lived with specific men at night.

He was to eventually hire her to fix his meals and to clean his house. The relationship was one of constant negotiation, relieved by a mutual love of gossip. When the Major realized that he was going to be reassigned, he began to think of selling his considerable possessions to have sufficient cash for his next billeting. Sarah wanted to buy. After all, life at the fort had few luxuries. At times the weather was so hot it felt as if it could fry a lizard’s tongue.

The hard-headed but charming businesswoman and the cagey military man constantly manipulated each other to see who could achieve the upper financial hand in these negotiations.

Early drawings of Ft. Yuma (Courtesy Arizona Historical Society, Tucson)

Sarah also played a small but significant part in the story of Olive Oatman, whose family had been horridly massacred not far from the fort. Sarah was a participant in the group that helped to bury the tragic remains of the family. Years later, when Olive was finally released from captivity by the Indians, Sarah provided housing for Olive upon her return to the fort.

Sarah also took on the task of adopting Mexican orphan children and taught them the skills of cooking and tavern keeping, helping them to become self-sufficient.

Her death was by no stray bullet or marauding Indian arrow. Instead she succumbed to the bite of a poisonous insect and died when she was fifty-four years old.

Her funeral included the complete Catholic rites, and full military honors. Everyone in town processed solemnly to the music of a military band and a three-gun salute was fired over her flag-draped casket. Many felt the sting of tears as they remembered this splendid woman. Years later, after her remains had been disinterred to the Presidio National Cemetery in San Francisco, the city of Yuma was to honor her by giving Sarah Bowman the title of “First Citizen of Yuma.”

Circumstance: being over a foot taller than the majority of the women of her time, having striking good looks, courage and devotion destined Sarah Bowman to live an extraordinary life. She will always be remembered as “a woman to look up to.”