Liver-Eating Johnson: The Myth, The Man, and the Murky Truth Behind the Crow Killer
From the clouded mist of 19th-century frontier legend emerges one of the most arresting, gruesome, and enduring characters of the American West—John “Liver-Eating” Johnson. His name alone evokes a visceral reaction, and with good reason. Few figures in the history of the Rocky Mountain frontier have inspired such a mix of fear, folklore, and fascination.
Known variously as John Johnston, Crow Killer, and later Liver-Eating Johnson (dropping the ‘t’ for dramatic flair), his story lives somewhere between historical record and campfire yarn. But one thing is clear: his reputation was hard-earned, if not always entirely verifiable.
A Beginning Shrouded in Mystery
Born around 1824 as John Garrison, Johnston’s early life is sketchily recorded. Some accounts suggest he served in the US Navy during the Mexican-American War, though he is alleged to have deserted after striking an officer—hardly the best way to start a military career. What followed was a name change and a decisive turn westward, where he would forge a life as a mountain man, fur trapper, and survivalist.
He wasn’t alone in this quest. Johnston initially travelled with Old John Hatcher, a seasoned mountain man who introduced him to the harsh realities and skills of frontier life. They lived near the Little Snake River in northern Colorado, where Hatcher taught Johnston everything from trapping techniques to using a .30 calibre Hawken rifle and a Bowie knife—tools that would become synonymous with his legend.
Marriage, Tragedy, and the Beginning of Vengeance
While living in the Bitterroot Valley of Montana, Johnston agreed to an unusual but not unheard-of arrangement: he traded for a wife, a Flathead sub-chief’s daughter. The two set off for his cabin in Colorado, and during the journey, she began teaching him the Salish language, while he taught her how to shoot and survive. Their mutual respect is evident in these shared lessons.
But tragedy soon struck. Upon returning from a trapping expedition the following spring, Johnston discovered his cabin in ruins. His wife—seven months pregnant—had been murdered and left to decay, her remains scattered in the doorway. The Crow tribe was blamed.
Thus began Johnston’s infamous vendetta.
The Crow Killer
In the months and years that followed, mutilated Crow warriors were discovered across the Northern Rockies, their bodies scalped and livers removed. It was said that Johnston ate the livers of the slain Crow men—a symbolic act steeped in revenge and intimidation. Whether he actually consumed them or allowed others to believe he did, the image of “Liver-Eating Johnson” stuck fast.
Over time, his vengeance campaign became legend. So much so that the Crow assembled twenty elite warriors to put an end to him. None returned.
The killings continued for nearly two decades. Yet eventually, the vendetta came to an unexpected end. In a dramatic shift, Johnston made peace with the Crow, and later referred to them as his “brothers.” The reasons for the reconciliation are unclear, but by all accounts, the truce held.
The Blackfoot Ambush and the Severed Leg Escape
Among the most grisly tales of Johnston’s life is the story of his capture by the Blackfoot. While en route to visit his Flathead kin, he was overpowered, bound in leather, and confined to a teepee. A lone guard was posted outside.
Ever resourceful—and evidently possessed of a high pain threshold—Johnston chewed through his leather restraints, crept out, and subdued the guard. What followed is the stuff of grim folklore: Johnston severed the guard’s leg at the hip, used it both as a club and a source of food, and travelled over 200 miles to safety. Even for the rough standards of frontier lore, it was a tale so shocking it demands scepticism. Still, like many aspects of Johnston’s life, it was widely repeated and firmly lodged in the mythology of the Old West.
Later Life: From Legend to Lawman
Following his unofficial war on the Crow, Johnston re-entered public life in more conventional roles. In 1864, during the American Civil War, he enlisted in Company H of the 2nd Colorado Cavalry and served as a sharpshooter for the Union Army. He was honourably discharged the following year.
During the 1880s, Johnston served as a deputy sheriff in Coulson, Montana, and later as a town marshal in Red Lodge. He also found work as a scout, woodhawk, guide, constable, and even a whiskey peddler. Always on the move, Johnston followed whatever means of income the frontier could offer.
He eventually settled into a more sedentary life, and by December 1899, the aging mountain man had taken up residence in a veterans’ home in Santa Monica, California. He died shortly thereafter, on 21 January 1900, aged around seventy-six. He was buried in a Los Angeles veterans’ cemetery.
But his story didn’t end there.
A Posthumous Return to the West
In 1974, Johnston’s remains were exhumed and moved to Cody, Wyoming, thanks to an unexpected campaign led by seventh-grade students and their teacher. They believed such a storied man deserved a final resting place more befitting of his legacy than a cemetery surrounded by city sprawl.
His new epitaph is simple and fitting: “No More Trails.”
Myth vs Reality
How much of Johnston’s legend is true remains a matter of speculation. Certainly, there was a John Johnston who lived through these eras, and many of the broad strokes—his military service, later roles in law enforcement, and his time as a trapper—are verifiable. But the stories of liver-eating vengeance, ambush escapes involving cannibalism, and single-handed vendettas against entire tribes likely grew in the telling.
Still, like all the best stories from the Old West, the truth and the myth of Liver-Eating Johnson are inextricably entwined. He remains one of the frontier’s most compelling characters—an embodiment of the harsh realities, violence, and resilience that defined America’s wild and often lawless expansion westward.