The man’s name was John “Liver-Eating” Johnston and he was born in New Jersey around 1823. His active career had included a stint in the United States Navy, several years as a fur trapper and trader in the northern Rocky Mountains, service in the Union Army during the Civil War, riding with the U.S. army as a scout, and performing in a Wild West show.

As he lay silent in his hospital bed during the last days of his life, he resembled so many of the other forgotten veterans in the home—deathly ill, destitute, and with little left but memories.

The staff at the hospital no doubt wondered how the old man had acquired his unique moniker, “Liver-Eating” Johnston. At the beginning of the twentieth century, with all of its modern conveniences, how curious it must have been for the doctors and nurses to look upon this dying man with such a preposterous name. If they had known Johnston’s life story, they would have understood.                     

Of all the several hundred intrepid men who called themselves mountain men, Johnston’s life and times in the Rockies was one of the most spectacular – almost unbelievable – on record. Johnston was not yet twenty years old when he arrived in the Rocky Mountains to trap beaver and see the vast homeland of the American Indian. He served his apprenticeship under such men as John Hatcher and Old Bill Williams, both experienced fur trappers.