USA > Iowa > Wapello County > History of Wapello County, Iowa, Volume I > Part 5
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Do you wonder the Indians hated to leave? Do you wonder that small bands returned again and again to the places they loved so well, just to look on what had once been all theirs, but was no longer? It was but a little while after the Black Hawk purchase till they had lost all their lands in Iowa. It was partly their own fault, for they were influenced by un- scrupulous men and their fondness for whiskey.
I will not attempt to tell of their various treaties; that may all be found in histories. But we know the Indian received but a mere pittance compared to the real value of the land. Paris Caldwell and Mr. Warner (early settlers ) hid in the bushes and watched the Indians leave this place for the last time, saw them cross the river on the long march to the west. I have followed their trail down Harrow's branch, across the tracks to the river, but no farther, for I can neither swim nor row a boat.
It must have been a melancholy sight to see them, with bowed heads half covered with blankets, file sadly over the prairie into a strange country,
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and one so different. Some of them wept, and it is said one old squaw turned back, saying, "Oh, let me go back and take one more drink from the old spring."
What I have learned of our locality I have not gathered from histories, magazines and newspaper articles, but chiefly from stories told me when a child by my father and other old settlers, who were connecting links be- tween the Indians and first settlers and my generation. Of some of the places described I know the exact location ; others I am uncertain about, as many changes have been made. The river has changed its course in some places. South of the wagon bridge, below where the Johnston Sharp factory stands, was once an island (Appanoose) ; and I am uncertain as to the exact location of Appanoose's village.
My parents at an early day came to Iowa. They descended the Ohio River in the steamer Prima Donna from Cincinnati, to Cairo, then up the Mississippi to Keokuk, from there up the Des Moines to Keosauqua, where they left the boat, went over into Des Moines County, near Middle- town, where father taught school and farmed between times. They changed boats at Cairo and Keokuk. At the latter place, to while away the time, they went to a "show." The play dealt with the future of Keokuk, and among other great events had the capitol of the United States removed from Washington and established at Keokuk. The playwright seems never to have imagined any such great undertaking as the big dam. In the early '6os my parents moved to Ottumwa, and in October, 1863, my father was elected principal of public schools. He was acquainted with early settlers all over the state and gathered from them all the knowledge he could concerning the Indian lore and early history of the state.
I have always been fond of these stories, have personally visited many of the places described, have tramped over these hills and hollows, and I love every one. I have collected Indian relics and geological specimens (for father was well versed in the geology of Iowa and had a fine collection of crinoids, lepidodendrons, etc.). I have listened to the stories of this region and told them again and again to my own, as well as other children, and, though many years have passed since I first heard them, the glamour has never been removed, and I never walk over the Dahlonega hills or along Village or Sugar creeks, or stand on any of the many signal points about Ottumwa, that I do not people the woods with its earliest inhabitants. All are gone-Indians, traders, red and white; most of the old landmarks, and nearly all who had to do with the early days-but the charm still lingers about them, and I often wish I might lift the curtain of the past and learn more. This I cannot do. I can only gather the traditions and try to interest our young people in the historic spots and induce them to visit and learn all they can about each, and, if possible, mark the most important, so that much may be preserved that is rapidly passing away. It is one way of teaching patriotism. The more they know of their surroundings, the
Photo by C. H. Shearer
CHIEF WAPELLO'S LAST RESTING PLACE, AGENCY
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more they will love them. And if they are not interested, the generations to come will be, when all traces have disappeared.
A Dr. B. M. Palmer, of New Orleans, in an address before the Louisiana Historical Society, said, "Each generation as it takes its place in the long succession, owes a debt to the past and to the future. The obli- gation is most sacred to collect every shred of testimony throwing light upon the history of the past and of the present, and to transmit the record to the ages that come after. Only thus can the evidence be accumulated upon which a final judgment can be pronounced, whilst contemporaneous criticism will censure it only as the iron in the marble which sometimes discolors its surface."
It is only a little more than four hundred years since our country was discovered. Just a little time compared with the length of time since history began; but how little, after all, do we know of the early days of our country. History preserves bare facts concerning discovery, organization, dates, etc. It gives us dates concerning our presidents, statesmen and the great ones, but seldom tells us of the little things that happened in the every-day lives of the people who braved the dangers and hardships of a pioneer life. Carlyle understood how we longed to know these little details when he said that "A true delineation of the smallest man is capable of interesting the greatest man."
We like to know how they lived, what they ate, how they dressed, the necessary expedients they used, their pleasures as well as their hardships. All these details are apt to be overlooked in the lives of the common people, and yet they are the ones who make history and help the great ones win renown. No stories are more fascinating than the frolics when the neighbors gathered for a house-raising, a quilting or a wedding. Many funny stories are told of courting in those days, when young men had to go long distances to call on the girls. Mr. Sabin, ex-state superintendent of schools in Iowa, tells of a bashful young man who was engaged to an equally bashful girl. It was reported that they were to be married on a cer- tain evening. The neighbors gathered from far and near. The minister was there. The friends stood about the cabin. Every one waited. The silence was most painful, when all of a sudden the groom leaped desperately into the room, nodded his head at the girl and shouted. "Come on, if you want to!" She wanted to, and the minister married them.
The clothing of the early settlers was home-made, nearly every family having its own loom, the men wearing caps of wolf, coon or muskrat skins. The women wore hoods or slat sunbonnets.
I have heard mother tell how comfortable some of the log cabins were and how good and cheap the living was. Money, however, was scarce. Eggs were 6 and 8 cents per dozen, hens 10 cents apiece, good-sized catfish 5 cents each, butter 8 cents a pound, berries, plums and wild honey to be gathered ; prairie chickens and quail plentiful and cheap. Venison, the first
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she ever tasted, she thought such "nice, tender beefsteak." In the East they had always been used to pie. But when they first came to Iowa it was too late for any of the native fruits except the wild crabapple. So they gathered wood sorrel, chopped and sweetened it and made pies of it. They also made vinegar pies.
For sauce they gathered wild "crabs," buried them in a hole in the ground, and when needed for use they were uncovered and stewed until tender. The cores were punched out. Eaten with cream and sugar, they were not to be despised.
I can remember when whole families would go in covered wagons to Skunk River and Soap Creek to gather blackberries and wild plums. They took bedding and provisions and would sometimes spend a week, canning, preserving and drying the fruit. Prairie chickens, quail and fish were so abundant it was not necessary to carry meat. I never heard of chewing gum such as is sold in the stores but I knew the gum from the compass plant that grew on the prairie. I knew, too, where the slippery elm and the wild cher- ries grew and I can find them now. I know mounds that I have often longed to explore. One in particular had a circle of birches growing about its base, as if planted by the hand of man.
When a little girl of ten attending school at the old "college," where the Adams Building now stands, I, together with three other little girls, ran away at noon and followed a small band of Indians all over town. Whenever they went into a saloon we patiently waited until they came out. When they stopped and looked at us we trembled with fear, and all the time we kept at a respectful distance. But they were real, blanket Indians, and we fol- lowed them to the outskirts of the town, when the school bell recalled us. When my mother learned of it she was horrified and promptly put a stop to such escapades.
It has been said that "America has no legendary era; that it is not old enough ; for such an era grows backward as the nation grows forward."
Much of the charm of traveling in Europe is ascribed to the glamour thrown about mountains, lakes, streams, ancient churches and castles, by legends associated with each. We are beginning to realize that our lakes, mountains and streams are prolific in stories and they are being gathered. Longfellow and Hawthorne realized this long ago and we are indebted to them for Hiawatha, the Great Carbuncle, etc. Clifton Johnson and Joel Chandler Harris have perpetuated many folk stories told by the Indians and southern negro which would fill volumes, and have furnished inspiration for many of our authors. Dr. Salter tells us in his book "Iowa" that the closing scene of the song of Hiawatha was a description of the reception of Mar- quette and Joliet by the Illini Indians on the banks of the Des Moines River in Iowa. When our stories and legends have been assembled together we will have something that cannot be surpassed by any storied Rhine. Let us not, then, like the seekers of the "Diamonds of Golconda," spend all our
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time seeking in far away lands the treasures that to a certain extent exist in our midst. Many of the characters are prosaic perhaps in every day life, but as their deeds grow hazy with the passage of time they grow in interest.
We are right in the heart of an Indian country, with a history as roman- tic and beautiful as you will find in any part of our land. It is our duty to preserve the stories and traditions of a people to whom the land belonged and for which they contended. It is right to keep alive the memory of the men and women whose courage and industry helped to make Iowa. Ottumwa was so called by the Indians. Its name was changed by the settlers to Louisville and again through Indian influence, given its Indian name. Like Iowa, it is variously interpreted, but General Street's interpreter said it meant "Swift Water," or "Tumbling Water."
The Indians about here were the Sacs and Foxes-two distinct tribes- descendants of the great Algonquins. They came from New York and tlie region about the St. Lawrence, from whence they were gradually driven westward. There is no evidence that these Indians had received any Chris- tion training (except what they received from the agent, Gen. Joseph Street, who held prayer meetings for them in his own house) until the advent of some Congregational missionaries, called the "Iowa Band." Much might be written of these brave men if time and space permitted, but they penetrated the almost unknown Iowa, when it was largely inhabited by Indians. Keokuk had but twelve log and two frame houses and the green stumps were yet in the streets of Burlington.
B. A. Spaulding held the first communion for the Indians, in the old council house at Agency, and built the first Congregational church in Ottumwa. This heroic band did much to make good our proud boast of "A church on every hilltop and a schoolhouse in every valley."
The first sermon preached in Ottumwa, however, was preached in Wapello's wigwam by Rev. Jameson, an itinerant Methodist minister. In 1838 General Street, agent to the Winnebagoes at Prairie du Chien, was appointed agent to the Sacs and Foxes. When he came to seek a location for the agency he was accompanied by Poweshiek and many others, and in order to be near the Indian villages, where South Ottumwa now stands, he located near what is now Agency City. He is described as a fine man, a strict Pres- byterian, absolutely honest in all his dealings with the Indians. The traders found they could not use him and tried to have him removed, but he was so trusted that he retained his position through successive administrations. He was a Virginian, and as was the custom in those days, had liquor on his table and served it to his guests until he found how harmful it was to the Indians, when he banished it from his table and house forever. It is not generally known that the agency buildings were built by slave labor. A contractor came from Missouri bringing slaves with him and staying there until the work was finished. General Street died in 1840. The Indians requested that he be buried in their country, and he is sleeping in the old agency grounds.
Vol. 1-4
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Keokuk and other chiefs eulogized him and wanted to give his widow and twelve children much land. He was succeeded by his son-in-law, Major Beach, a West Point graduate, who held the position of Indian agent until the Indians relinquished all their lands. A granddaughter of General Street still lives in Agency.
Three chiefs had their villages in South Ottumwa. Keokuk, or Watchful Fox, because he was of the peace party after the Black Hawk war, was rec- ognized as principal chief of the Sacs and Foxes, thus superseding Black Hawk.
He is described as a fine looking man, tall, and of commanding appearance. He owned the finest horse in the country and was very vain of his appear- ance. He possessed a costly wardrobe and had fine trappings for his horse. His favorite dress was of white deer skin. He wore a snake skin (lined with rice cloth) about his arm. Many little bells were attached to it, and when making a speech the tinkle of the bells gave a fine touch. His scalps were attached to his bridle bits. Keokuk is said to have been one of the bravest and most gifted orators among all the Indians, ranking with Red Jacket. He drew his imagery from nature, the leaves of the forest, the trees, birds, etc., but was unfortunate in having uneducated men as interpreters, who were unable to reproduce in the English tongue, his thoughts. He was at his best in the council house, addressing his people in their own tongue, and it is said that the effect of his eloquence on them was wonderful. It is not known whether Keokuk was really so much a friend of the whites, as that he had the ability to choose the safest and wisest course. He was not so great a man as Black Hawk, and it is said that in spite of his downfall, Black Hawk was respected by the whites more than Keokuk. Keokuk was a pet of the Government, which brought him many favors, and was the cause of jealousy among the chiefs. Black Hawk considered him the cause of his downfall. General Scott gave him (Keokuk) a gold medal when he made him head chief, and had a big dinner and fireworks for the Indians. Keokuk in his later years became very selfish and avaricious. He had the distribution of the annuities and the Indians accused him of cheating. As I said before, he was very fond of display and of having his picture painted.
Unlike Black Hawk, who had but one wife to whom he was devotedly attached, Keokuk had seven. He was very fond of whisky.
Seth Ogg, whom many of you remember, a fur trader of Eddyville and a friend of Keokuk, afterward bought a farm where Keokuk's village stood, and said that he plowed up hundreds of whisky bottles. He told father with great glee of stopping over night in Keokuk's lodge. Mrs. Keokuk brought him a drink of whisky in an old coffee pot lid. Keokuk told her in the Indian tongue not to give the white man very much, just a little, but Mr. Ogg understood perfectly what was said.
I found among my father's papers a description, as he took it from Mr. Ogg's lips, of Keokuk's village. "This Indian village," he says, "contained
THE INDIAN CHIEF KEOKUK-THE WATCHFUL FOX"
This half-tone portrait is from a daguerrotype taken in 1847. when the great chief was 67 years of age. This has been generally accepted by historical writers as a faithful likeness of that celebrated lowa chief.
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a population of over one thousand souls. His royal residence was in the midst of a beautiful prairie named for him. The royal palace was constructed mainly of bark and was about two hundred feet in length. Keokuk had selected the site himself, half way up the side of the bluff in the rear of his village, where he could look down and have a fine view of the three villages below, and of the bluffs and valley up and down the river on our side. Before the road was graded along Franklin Park, one could see where the village stood. From my home we have a fine view of Keokuk's prairie, throughout almost its entire extent. It is about six miles long by three wide."
Village Creek takes its name from the Indian village. It is related that Joseph Smith, the Mormon, sent for Keokuk, who took the trail with his Indians to Nauvoo, where Smith tried to convert him. He told him how it was supposed that the North American Indians were the lost tribe of Israel. and after a long harangue urged them to go with the Mormons "to a land flowing with milk and honey." Keokuk wasn't called "Watchful Fox" for nothing. Ile waited with folded arms for his "white brother's words to sink deep into his heart." He said he knew nothing about the lost tribes of Israel, and as to a "land flowing with milk and honey," he said the Indians didn't know much about milk. He thought they would prefer whisky. But what he wanted to know was, how much annuity they would be paid. Many, many stories are told of his shrewdness. Poor old Keokuk, with the rest of his tribe, had to take the trail toward the setting sun. They went to Kansas, where he died, some accounts say of drunkenness, others that he was poisoned by some of his own tribe. In 1883, years after his death, his bones were carried to the city named for him, and interred in Rand Park, where a fine monument overlooking the Mississippi stands in his honor. A rough slab from his grave in Kansas is inserted in one side of the monument. A city and a county are named for him.
The second village was Wapello's and stood near old Richmond. Wapello means "chief." He was a head chief of the Foxes. In a treaty signed by him, the meaning is given as "He who is painted white." He was short and stout in appearance and almost as gifted in speech as Keokuk. He was always in favor of peace and a friend of the whites. He had a son killed down in Jefferson county. He swam the river, traded his horse for a barrel of whisky and invited the other Indians to help him drown his sorrow. Except for his drunkenness he was a good Indian, and much liked by the whites. His favorite hunting grounds were on the Chicaqua, or Skunk River. It was while visiting there that he died. His body was taken the same day by his followers in an ox cart to the old agency, and with the usual Indian rites, was buried at sunset, by the side of his white friend and father, General Street. This was done at his own request, made long before he died. Child of the forest, what more fitting monument could he have than the three great elms that overhang his grave? No monument built by man could compare in beauty with them. No music could be sweeter than the music of the birds
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that come to that spot. The winds speak soft and true as they whisper through the branches, as if to tell us they had been there watching the doings at the agency many long years ago. The marble slab has an interesting inscription, giving dates, stating that he was a friend of the whites and that the stone was erected by his own people. The old agency house stands near. Formerly it was hard to reach, but the Chicago, Burlington & Quincy Railroad passes through the old agency grounds and keeps this spot in repair. We are fortunate that we are so near Agency and should not neg- lect the opportunity of visiting and preserving places so interesting. I am not sure, but I think Appanoose's village was south of the wagon bridge. The name means "chief when a child." He it was who told General Street that Sugar Creek was fifty miles long. General Street built a mill on the strength of this statement. That was one instance where the Indian got the best of the white man. When Major Beach took the principal chiefs through the East, Appanoose was among them. At Boston Gov. Edward Everett made them a speech, and the Indians replied. When it came Appa- noose's turn he said: "In my home I am a great chief. It is a great day that the sun shines on when two such great chiefs grasp each other by the hand." The governor managed to keep his face straight, but the people shouted, which Appanoose evidently thought was applause.
Hardfish succeeded Black Hawk as head of the unruly Sacs and Foxes. His village was in Wapello County, where Eddyville now stands.
Kish-ke-kosh was the name of a Fox chief who tried to do much for his people and tried to copy the manners and customs of the whites. He lived up near the forks of the Skunk River. Monroe County was at one time named Kish-ke-kosh County. The word means "man with one leg." But he had two sound legs. In the trading books of Mr. Eddy, who had a post at Eddy- ville, is this charge: Kish-ke-kosh, Broadcloth, eight yards of ribbon, pair stockings, more ribbons, saddle, bridle, lard, pins, pen knife, looking glass, one coffin, sugar, coffee, parasol. Some of the things were for his wife, of whom he was very fond. I don't know who the coffin was for. He probably wanted it in case of emergency.
When our young folks go "junketing" to Garrison rocks, I wonder how many know how it received its name. A number of log houses belonging to the American Fur Company were near the mouth of Sugar Creek near Garrison rocks. The Indian agent was much troubled by squatters encroach- ing on the Indians' territory, so he asked for a company of dragoons. They occupied a house belonging to a Mr. Sanford, and in his honor it was called Fort Sanford. They remained there a year and were then trans- ferred to Fort Des Moines. The old well is still there, or was a few years ago. The squaws used to come across the river to raise corn, because it was easier than near the villages. They had corn patches where the Adams Building now is, and also where the T. D. Foster house stands. Fine springs
THE INDIAN CHIEF WAPELLO
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of water were near, notably one at the Foster place, and one where the First Methodist Church stands.
About Ottumwa are what are supposed to be mounds, made long before the Indians came here. I know the location of many of these. The band stand at Caldwell Park is said to be on the summit of one and it is said that when Ottumwa was young, an Indian was buried just where the stand is. A David Hall had the only hotel here, and his wife, "Becky," hearing of the Indian burial, walked all the way out there, lifted the bark shelter from the body, gazed at it, replaced the bark, and trudged back to town. E. Kit- terman says that when he was a lad there was a large encampment of Indians at Sugar Creek and that an Indian died and was buried with his treasures, among which was a wooden bowl containing a few copper cents. He said toward evening when he passed that way again, the money was gone from the bowl.
Black Hawk does not properly belong to the vicinity of Ottumwa, but he was chief of our Indians at one time, and Keokuk's great rival, Black Hawk was buried near Iowaville (now entirely blotted from the map) a few miles below Eldon. His body was placed in a sitting posture in a place where the ground was scooped out a few inches. He was placed facing the east. He was buried in full uniform. Near him was a cane given him by Henry Clay. A shelter was made of boards and bark covered with earth. His bones were stolen by a doctor and taken to Alton, Illinois. His sons obtained a requisition from the governor of Iowa and the bones were taken to Burlington and left in the rooms of the Burlington Historical So- ciety. When the sons went to get them, they were pleased with the nice dry room where they were and so left them there. The building was afterwards destroyed by fire and the bones and many other valuable collections of the society were lost. Although his body is not there, we know his burial place, and it seems to me so brave a man should have something to mark the spot. if it were nothing more than a boulder with an inscription. He was only an untutored savage but he was as much a patriot as any man who fought in the defense of his home and fireside. If you read his autobiography you will realize that he was truly what a writer in the Annals of Iowa calls him- "A Man, a Hero, a Patriot." In his dedication he says, "The changes of many summers have brought old age upon me and I cannot expect to survive many moons. Before I set out on my long journey to my fathers, I have determined to give my reasons for my former hostility to the whites and to vindicate my character from misrepresentation. The kindness I have received from you, whilst a prisoner of war, assures me that you will vouch for the facts contained in my narrative, so far as they come under your observation. I am now an obscure member of a nation that formerly hon- ored and respected my opinions. The pathway to glory is rough, and many gloomy hours obscure it. May the Great Spirit shed light on yours and may you never experience the humility that the power of the Ameri-
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