USA > Iowa > Scott County > Davenport > History of Davenport and Scott County Iowa, Volume I > Part 13
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German
EARLY HOME OF J. M. D. BURROWS
RESIDENCE OF DR. BARROWS Sixth and Rock Island Streets
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memory of years struggled for utterance, but the great chieftain smothered it with stoical indifference. He died on the Des Moines river, October 3, 1839.
The varied accounts of the death and burial of Black Hawk are such as to induce the author to say that he was not "buried in a sitting posture in the banks of the Des Moines river, where he could see the canoes of his tribe as they passed to the good hunting ground," as was stated in some accounts at the time of his death. Neither was he buried as Schoolcraft says: (vol. VI, P. 554, 1857,) "with all the rights of sepulture which are only bestowed upon their most distinguished men," and that "they buried him in his war dress in a sitting posture on an eminence, and covered him with a mound of earth." He sickened and died near Iowaville, the site of his old town, on the Des Moines river, in Wapello county of this state; and was buried close by, like Wapello, another chief of his tribe, after the fashion of the whites. His grave was some forty rods from the river, at the upper end of the little prairie bottom where he lived. While performing the public surveys of this district in 1843, one of my section lines ran directly across the remains of the wigwam in which this great warrior closed his earthly career, which I marked upon my map, and from his grave took bearings to suitable landmarks, recorded them in my regular field-notes and transmitted them to the surveyor general. Black Hawk's war club was then standing at the head of his grave, having been often renewed with paint and wampum, after the fashion of his tribe. At a later period, it is said that a certain Dr. - , of Warsaw, Illinois, disinterred the body, and took the bones to Warsaw. Gov. Lu- cas, learning this, required their return to him, when they were placed in the hall of the Historical society at Burlington, and finally consumed by fire with the rest of the society's valuable collections.
At the close of this year, 1836, there were some six or seven houses in the original limits of the town, and the population did not exceed 100, all told ; while Stephenson had some 500 inhabitants. There was but one main street or public road leading through the town. This was up and down the river bank, or Front street. An Indian trail which afterward became a public road, led out of the city nearly where Main street now is, passing by the corners of Sixth and Main, following the top of the ridge near the present residence of Mr. Newcomb and running across the college grounds intersecting Main street on the west side of the square. Another Indian trail leading from the town was from the residence of Mr. LeClaire where the depot now stands passing up the bluff where LeClaire street now crosses Sixth and entered Brady opposite the college grounds. Al- though a treaty had been made with the Indians and they had sold their lands, yet they still lingered around the place so dear to them. The trading house of Col. Davenport was still kept open on the Island and furnished supplies for them.
No portion of the great west has the Indian been so loth to leave as the hunt- ing and fishing grounds of Rock island and vicinity. It is said to have been one of the severest trials of Black Hawk's life to bid adieu to the home of his youth and the graves of his ancestors. When carried past Rock island a prisoner after his defeat and capture at the battle of Bad Axe he is said to have wept like a child. The powder horn worn by him at his last battle has recently been ob- tained from an old pioneer soldier of the Black Hawk war and presented to the State Historical society by R. M. Prettyman, Esq., of Davenport. For many
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years after the removal of the Sacs and Foxes to their new home beyond the Mississippi, parties of them would pay an annual visit and even now one sees the aged warrior walking over our city, pointing out to his children places of interest now covered by the wigwams of the white man. Even the fish taken in the As-sin-ne-Se-po (Rock river) were considered by the Indian better than any caught in the Mississippi or elsewhere. When the order came for their removal it was with bowed heads and lingering steps they took up their line of march toward the setting sun, the children of destiny, a persecuted race, seeking an asylum from the oppression of the white man.
In May, 1837, a council of chiefs was held at the trading house of Col. Daven- port, on Rock island, to consider the invitation sent to them by President Van Buren for a deputation to visit him at Washington. At this "talk," Keokuk, as chief of the Sacs and Foxes was present, and a large number of underchiefs or braves. Among them were Wapello, Poweshiek, Pash-apa-ho, Nau-she-us- kuk, son of Black Hawk, and many others. At the same time a band of Pot- tawattamie Indians, then on their way to their lands on the Missouri river were encamped on Black Hawk creek, some three miles below this city. They had stopped to rest and visit their friends, the Sacs and Foxes. The head men of this band were invited to sit in council. I had the pleasure of being present with many other strangers by invitation of Col. Davenport. This band of Pottawat- tamies had been encamped for some time and had annoyed the few settlers along the river and bluffs by stealing their hogs, an article, by the way, that an Indian is very fond of. The inhabitants had sent to the old fort at Montrose, where a few soldiers were still quartered for assistance to remove these Indians. As the council was about assembling on the island there appeared upon this side of the river a company of dragoons. The lieutenant in command was soon sent across the river, and by invitation took a seat in council. His errand was soon made known, when one of the Pottawattamie chiefs arose and with much warmth denied the charge of stealing. He was told by the officer that he must prepare to march next day. But he told the lieutenant in insolent language that he would not go, that he had no provisions, that the agent had cheated him out of the annu- ities, and that the whole federal combination was a heap of impositions. He was soon silenced by the agent, and in a more subdued manner, after being instructed to go by the fort and get provisions, he told the lieutenant that a part of his band was encamped on the Wabesipinecon river, and that if he would go up after them, he would be ready to accompany them on his return. The young officer, not being up to Indian tricks, left immediately for the "Wapsie," in pursuit of In- dians. Upon his return a few days after he very frankly acknowledged that he was "sold" and on looking for his friend the chief, he only found the smouldering ashes of his campfire, and has never probably had the pleasure of meeting him since.
After this little business of the lieutenant was concluded, the council was opened in due form by smoking the calumet. Keokuk, as usual, was the principal speaker. He first called an aged warrior or chief who made a few remarks on being again permitted to meet their white friends. He was followed by Keokuk, who slowly rose to his feet, letting drop his blanket from his shoulders, displaying his calico shirt with the necklace of grizzly bears' claws hung around his neck,
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and a proper quantity of wampum. His manner was dignified. All eyes were turned upon him, and a smile of satisfaction, if such a thing could be seen on the face of an Indian, could be traced, as this great orator began his speech. He alluded in brief terms to the friendly relations existing between the president and himself, was happy to hear from, and much pleased with, the invitation from him for a visit. He then entered upon the importance of more material aid from his great father. This was done, probably to please his people and maintain his popu- larity. As he warmed up with the subject he became animated and even eloquent. His speech was clear and distinct. He spoke fast, so much so, that Mr. Le Claire, the interpreter, had frequently to stop him. His lofty bearing, his earnest, intel- ligent look and his well-timed gestures, all told that he was one of nature's ora- tors. His own people had ever looked upon him as a man destined to rule. So powerful in argument was he that he has been known by his eloquence in debate to completely turn the multitude from their first purpose. He rose from ob- scurity to the chieftainship of his tribe by the force of his talents, and was often charged by his red brethren with having white blood in his veins. There is a mystery hanging over the death of this celebrated chief.
The Sacs and Foxes on their removal from here first settled on the Iowa river ; and after the second purchase they removed to the Des Moines river, where they remained until the last sale of their lands in Iowa when the govern- ment provided them with a home in Kansas. They are now located on the wa- ters of the Neosha and Osage rivers, southwest of Fort Leavenworth, near the Shawnee and Kansas Indians, and have a tract of country embracing some 435,000 acres. There are about 1,600 in both tribes, and draw from the United States an annuity of $50,000 for their support. They have a large amount of farming lands opened for cultivation and an experienced farmer to teach them agriculture, but from the annual reports of the Indian bureau we learn that their progress is slow, and their unwillingness to send their children to school ex- hibits a decided dislike for civilization and improvement. Their proud, inde- pendent, restless spirit has led them several times since their location beyond the Missouri to get up war parties for a descent upon the Sioux or other tribes, but their agent has been as prompt to put them down. They have never struck a blow since their residence there. Vast sums of money have been expended on these Indians to civilize and Christianize them, to little purpose. Some difficulties have arisen among themselves, since the death of Keokuk, but of what nature we are not able to relate.
Keokuk remained with them to the time of his death. Suspicion rested on him in the minds of some of his tribe of unfairness in the distribution of the annu- ities. He is said to have had a quarrel with Wai-sau-me-sau, a son of Black Hawk, on the subject of government annuities. Keokuk was charged with par- tiality toward his own friends and the whites. An effort was made to elect a new disbursing chief, when the whites interfered, and no change was effected.
At the annual payment of the annuities on October, 1841, the long smothered vengeance in the hearts of Black Hawk's sons broke out against Keokuk for his treatment of their father after his downfall, and one account at the time stated that he was stabbed by Wai-sau-me-sau. Another is that he was poisoned, but
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certain it is that he died very suddenly. Nau-she-as-kuk, the other son of Black Hawk, died at their reservation in Kansas, in 1856, of delirium tremens.
There are other incidents that occurred during the year 1836 and prior that might be worthy of note. One that I recollect was a fight which took place among a band of Sacs and Foxes who were encamped on the bank of the river just below Cannon's mills. They had been supplied, as usual, with liquor by that un- principled wretch, the frontier whiskey dealer, until all were drunk, when a gen- eral quarrel ensued; knives and tomahawks were at once resorted to and many were cut severely while two were killed outright. In ordinary circumstances the murderer must answer with his life, and if he flees, the friends and relatives of the deceased must pursue and bring the offender to justice. The chief of the tribe requires his surrender at the hands of his relatives or his tribe, but in a drunken frolic when one is killed no one is charged with the murder. The In- dian is not to blame. It is set down to the whiskey. It is the "che-moco man's scuti-appo," or white man's firewater, that has done the deed, and no sacrifice of blood is required to avenge the wrong.
In 1841 while making some explorations in the Sioux and Winnebago Indian country, upon the head waters of the Waubsipinicon, Cedar and Iowa rivers, now Minnesota, I stayed a few days at the village of "Chos-chunka," or Big Wave, a chief of the Winnebagoes. One beautiful moonlight night the Indian children had been playing with unusual life and gayety, the young men and maidens had roamed at large around the village, and the sports and moonlight games had made the wild woods echo with the rude and sometimes boisterous mirth of these sons of the forest. Our host had pointed to our lodgings in one end of his wigwam and all had retired when there came over the stillness of the night one of those Indian yells so familiar to many of our frontier villages. I knew it well, and as two drunken Indians approached the village, a stir among its inmates was heard, as one and another crept from his lodge to hear the news from the trading house or some border whiskey shop. Chos chunka turned on his bed and with his long pipe stem stirring the embers he soon kindled a blaze, lit his pipe and fell back upon his pallet. There was now a glimmering light from the rekindled embers, so that from beneath my blanket I could see all that passed within the wigwam. The noise increased. Footsteps were heard passing by our lodge; it was evident the Indians were gathering for a "big drunk." Soon the bear skin door of the lodge was pushed aside and one of the wives of the chief who had been absent a few moments entered and whispered something in his ear. She went away and the chief resumed his pipe and lounged upon his bear- skin bed. The wife soon returned, bearing with her a bottle containing the ac- cursed poison which she presented to Chos-chunka. He refused and bidding her go away he remained upon his bed. But he seemed uneasy and at last arose and sat by the fire. Again his squaw brought the fatal bottle, of which she had evidently tasted, and again he refused it, when she threw her arms around his neck and placed the bottle to his lips. His resolutions were all overcome, and he drank, then bade her begone. But the fatal draught had been taken and its fire was fast passing through his veins. The noise in the adjoining lodge where the festive board was spread had now become loud and boisterous. All at once the chief threw aside his pipe and rushed out of his lodge.
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I spoke to my companions, A. W. Campbell and the interpreter, when we at once arose and made our way out to see the condition of things among the Indians. I had messages and a pass or permit to visit the country from Gov. Chambers, endorsed by the Indian agent, Rev. David Lowrey, at Ft. Atkinson on Turkey river, and well knew that under ordinary circumstances I was safe while a guest of the chief and under the protection of his lodge. I well knew, too, that it was the courtesy due to us that so long prevented him joining the festive party, for while he was struggling so hard between whiskey and politeness he turned many sorrowful and imploring glances toward our silent couch. We spent but a short time looking into the lodge where the drunken scene was fast preparing for a bloody ending. As we stood there viewing the circle of Indians within, a dog ran across the ring, when a drunken Indian struck him in the ribs. In a moment the owner grappled with the offender, and soon the melee became general. On all such occasions every weapon of a deadly sort is hid by the squaws before the commencement of the frolic. But in the tussle about the dog they kicked from under the matting a hatchet. The infuriated savage caught it with all the avidity of an avenger of blood, and with one stroke cut the scalp from the other's head from the forehead to the eye. One single yell was heard, and with a rush one side of the wigwam was carried away, and the howling of the dogs and the crying of the squaws soon brought the whole village together. As the motley group poured out of the dilapidated wigwam we soon found our way back to the lodge of the chieftain and snugly ensconced ourselves in bed, cov- ered up head and ears, peep-holes excepted. In a few moments Chos-chunka came in with nine of his braves and friends. The usual circle was soon formed and the bottle began to pass, but in the midst of their revelry the chief would often caution them about too much noise, as he had distinguished friends visiting him and they must not be disturbed. That they were "big captains" and making a picture of their country to show his great father, the president. (I was surveying for my map of Iowa, published in 1845.) In their drunken carousal I could see that same low, vulgar, nonsensical merriment which is often exhibited in the white man on similar occasions. They told their love stories and sang their bacchanalian songs, until one after another fell over and were left to sleep away the fumes of that drink which has carried thousands of these ignorant savages to the grave.
An Indian, when he once tastes liquor, never leaves it until he is drunk or it gives out. He comprehends no other use of it but to stupefy. It is no welcome beverage to him, for they do not love the taste of it, but its effects. The palate of the Indian is as little vitiated as that of a child. They use no salt nor seasoned food, and their taste is keen and remarkably sensitive. I have seen the Indian in apparent agony by drinking whiskey, which is generally well spiced with red pepper and gums to keep up its strength, and I have seen the young man and maiden held by main strength while the whiskey had been administered to teach them to drink.
The next morning after the affray above narrated I visited the lodge of the wounded Indian. He refused in sullen silence to converse upon the subject, and would only say, "too much scuti-appo." No hard feelings were entertained towards the offender : all was charged to the whiskey account.
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Among the settlers at the close of the year 1836 were Antoine LeClaire, Philip Hambaugh, Lewis Hebert, George L. Davenport, L. S. Colton, G. C. R. Mit- chell, Maj. Wm. Gordon, D. C. Eldridge, Dr. Emerson, James and Robert Mc- Intosh, James M. Bowling, Ira Cook, Sr., and his sons, Wm. L., Ebenezer, John P. and Ira Cook, Jr., Adam and John Noel, John Armil and sons, James and Walter Kelly, Dr. James Hall and sons, Alexander W. McGregor, his father and brother, John and David LeClaire, Wm. R. Shoemaker, Edward Powers, James R. Stubbs, Tannerhill, William Watts, Frazer Wilson and others.
There were only seven houses or cabins erected at the close of the year, most of them very rude structures, built of poor material and but cheerless abodes to meet the coming winter. One of these, the first public house built in the town, was situated at the corner of Front and Ripley streets erected by Col. Davenport and Mr. LeClaire, and kept at first by Edward Powers, now of Rock Island, called the "Davenport Hotel," but afterwards enlarged and known as the "U. S. Hotel." The building is still standing.
The log house of Capt. Litch, the first whiskey shop, has been torn away to give place to more substantial buildings. The building erected by Mr. Shoals, afterwards known as the "Dillon house," stood on the bank of the river, on the next block below Burnell, Gillett & Co.'s mill. This has been destroyed by fire. The rest of the landmarks of 1836 are still standing, decaying witnesses of the early trials of the pioneers of Scott county.
The population did not exceed 100. But little ground had been broken and very little grain of any kind raised. Supplies had to be obtained from Cincin- nati and St. Louis. The fort on Rock island had been abandoned, and the sol- diers removed. The morning reveille and the evening tattoo had ceased to beat, and old Fort Armstrong that had afforded shelter, and protection to many of the immigrants was deserted; and as the chilling blast of December fell upon the unprotected settlers many an anxious heart was saddened by the prospect of the coming winter, and many a tear wiped in silence as their thoughts went back to those halcyon days of unalloyed happiness in the land of their nativity.
The survey of the public lands in Iowa began in the autumn of 1836. Scott county survey was made by A. Bent and son from Michigan, United States depu- ties from the surveyor general's office at Cincinnati. The surveys of this county were completed in March, 1837. It contains 280,516 acres.
All lands from the departures of the Indians until they were offered for sale by the government were under the rule of "squatter sovereignty." Any man had a right to select for himself any portion of the public domain not otherwise ap- propriated for his home, and by blazing the lines bounding his "claim," in timber or staking it out on the prairie he was legally possessed of title. Societies were formed, or "claim clubs" who organized themselves to protect one another in their rights. The secretary kept a book in which all claims had to be recorded. A territorial law existed making contracts for claims valid, and notes given for such were collectible by law. Great speculations were carried on by pioneer "claim makers," a class of men who no sooner than they had sold one claim to some newcomer would proceed to make another and commence improvements. These claims were respected and held in peace (when properly taken) until the
OLD FORT ARMSTRONG WHEN FIRST BUILT
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sale of the lands by government, when the owners were permitted to purchase them at the minimum price of $1.25 per acre.
During the fishing season of this spring among other neighboring tribes that often visited the Sacs and Foxes to fish in the waters of the As-sin-ne-Sepo, (Rock river,) a small band of Winnebagoes were encamped on Rock island. As usual the younger and more profligate of the tribe were hanging around the groceries in Stephenson and Davenport, bartering such articles as they possessed for whiskey. On one occasion two young Indians, being crazed by too large potations from the whiskey bottle, quarreled, and one struck the other, an in- dignity seldom submitted to by an Indian, drunk or sober. The next day they met upon the little willow island just below the town of Davenport, whether by accident or by common consent is not known, but the quarrel was renewed and carried to such an extent that one of them was killed. No whites were present, and various reports were made by the Indians as to the manner of his death. One account of the affair was that the difficulty was settled by a duel, after the fashion of the white man, one of the parties using a shotgun, the other a rifle. If it was a duel, it is the first on record of having taken place among the Indians of the northwest. The shotgun hero was buried in one of the mounds then ex- isting on the banks of the river below the city on the farm of Ira Cook, Esq., the site of Black Hawk's last village. There was another Indian buried in the same mound who died at the same time, having been bitten by a rattlesnake while lying drunk one night. They were placed four feet apart facing each other buried in dirt as high up as the waist, holding in one hand the paint, and in the other the tomahawk. The ยท graves were surrounded with poles or pickets some ten feet high, and set so close that no animal of any size could get to the bodies.
The survivor fled to his home in Shab-bo-nah's grove on Rock river leaving his friends here in deep distress at his misfortune and the dire consequences that must unavoidably follow, according to Indian custom. The fugitive well knew his doom. There was blood upon his skirts. The relatives of the deceased de- manded his return. They clamored for his blood. His own sister and some of his relatives went for him, and found him in his wigwam with blackened face, brooding in silence over his act of blood, feeling that the Great Spirit was angry with him and that no sacrifice was too great to appease his wrath. The sister plead with him to return to Rock island and meet his fate, and thus appease the wrathful spirit of the departed one. One bright morning in May, a few days after the murder, the quiet camp of the Indians on As-sin-ne-Maness (Rock island) was awakened by the doleful chant of the death song. A few canoes came gliding around the point of the island ; among them was that of the murderer singing his last song this side the good hunting ground. His canoe was paddled by his own sister, whom he tenderly loved. The long protracted howl of the Indian crier soon put in motion the whole camp on both sides of the river. From every cave and eddy along the banks of the river there shot forth canoes filled with excited natives eager to participate in the bloody scene about to be enacted. A circle was soon formed a little above the burying ground of the old fort at the foot of the island. A shallow grave was dug and the willing but trembling cul- prit was led to it by his mourning sister, and kneeling on one side of it the nearest male relative of the deceased approached and with one blow of the tomahawk
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