Frank Finkel: The Great Liar of the Little Bighorn?

 

      In 1920, sixty six year old Frank Finkel was a moderately wealthy farmer in Dayton, Washington, living a quiet life with his wife and children.  This changed in April 1920 when Finkel got into a public (perhaps beer enhanced) argument with one of his cronies who made some ill-chosen comments about George Armstrong Custer being ambushed by Indians.

 

      “You don’t know what you are talking about,” roared Finkel.

  

      “What makes you such an authority,” asked the neighbor.

 

       “I was there,” retorted Finkel.

    

     Was Finkel just an obnoxious know-it-all shooting off his mouth, a man making a grab for “stolen glory”, or the sole survivor of Custer’s Last Fight?  Within a week Finkel was telling his story at a Kiwanis Club meeting and the press was there.  A breathless article stated that Finkel:

“GAVE TO THE CLUB THE ACCOUNT OF HIS THRILLING ESCAPE AND THE CIRCUMSTANCES THAT PREVENTED THE KNOWLEDGE OF HIS SURVIVAL FROM REACHING THE GOVERNMENT AT THE TIME.

CONGRESSMAN JOHN W. SUMMERS OF WALLA WALLA WAS A GUEST AT THE LUNCHEON AND HE WILL MAKE AN EFFORT TO GET GOVERNMENT RECOGNITION OF MR. FINKLE’S STORY.”

     Finkel claimed that, early in the battle, both he and his horse were shot, and the horse bolted. Days after the disaster, Finkel shot his dying horse in the head. Finkel wandered on and then discovered a shack in the middle of the uncharted territory. A man called Bill doctored him back to health. When Finkel returned to civilization he discovered that his own name appeared in the Bismarck Tribune as among the dead.  He said he reported to an Army officer to request a discharge, but gave up on the matter when the officer required him to provide two witnesses to vouch for his identity.  Now, officially dead, Finkel never returned to the Army.

     Historians who support Finkel's claim argue that several details in his account could only be known by someone who was at the Little Bighorn and that Frank Finkel was actually George August Finckle, a sergeant in Tom Custer's Company C.  Historians in the pro-Frank Finkel camp, such as John Koster, author of the book Custer Survivor, argue that George August Finckle was erroneously reported as killed in action.

     Maybe, but there seems to be a great deal of evidence running against Frank Finkel’s story.  Frank Finkel himself was adamant that he was a private and occasionally an acting corporal, but never a sergeant.  Did he perhaps forget a false name under which he enlisted? Those who dispute Finkel's claim argue that army records at the time do not indicate the existence of a Frank Finkel and that the fate of all the people who have been suggested as possible false names for Finkel are known.

     What about Frank Finkel’s encyclopedic knowledge of the battle and the local terrain?  By 1920 a great deal had been written about the battle, including a lengthy account written in 1892 for The Century Magazine by Lt. Edward Godfrey, who had survived the fight at Reno Hill. In 1892, Lieutenant Godfrey also told of finding a dead 7th Cavalry horse, at the place Frank Finkel claimed he had shot his wounded horse.  By 1912, there had even been a movie made about the battle called Custer’s Last Fight, which Frank Finkel and his wife saw at the Keylor Grand Theater in Walla Walla, Washington.

     What additional evidence is there that Frank Finkel was not George August Finckle, the sergeant in Tom Custer's Company C?  The sergeant’s body was identified, but is it possible that the identification was an error?  Although the bodies of the cavalrymen were bloated and badly mutilated, sergeant Finckle’s body was identified by three people who knew him, Sgt. Samuel Alcott, Sgt. Daniel Kanipe, and Lt. Edward Godfrey.  Sergeant George August Finckle was also the tallest enlisted man in the 7th Cavalry and one of the heaviest, making his identification that much easier.  Further research has demonstrated the sergeant’s handwriting was totally different from that of Frank Finkel.

     Frank Finkel died in 1930 at the age of seventy six, never having tried to profit from his lone survivor story.  We can only guess at his motives for telling the story.  Perhaps he had just become obsessed with the Battle of the Little Bighorn.

Custer’s Last Stand: Portraits in Time

Custer’s Last Stand Re-examined