USA > Wisconsin > Winnebago County > History of Winnebago County, Wisconsin, and early history of the Northwest > Part 24
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On their arrival at Mukwa, the Doctor took his surgical instruments and accompanied by James, went immediately to the wigwam. The Indian, whose skull was cleaved, was still alive, but unconscious, and beyond the reach of surgical skill. He soon died. The one whose arm was nearly severed was attended to. The bone being cut slanting, it was found necessary to cut off the points, so as to square the ends; which was done. In due time the bone united, but the main nerve having been severed, caused paralysis of the arm and left him a cripple for life. The wounds of the other were dressed and the gashes sewed up, but about a year afterwards he died; it was reported from necrosis of the ribs occasioned by the injury.
The fatal quarrel caused great excitement among the Indians, who flocked from all direc-
tions, to the scene of the tragedy; and congre- gated in large numbers, in the vicinity of Linde's, assuming a most threatening attitudc. The settlers were in such great fear from appre- hension that the Indians had assembled for the purpose of taking revenge, that they dared not afford Linde any protection. He thought it a necessary precaution to send his little son Fred, to Oshkosh. The Doctor seemed to be involved in the trouble, from the fact that it was supposed hostility to him that provoked the attack on James; they having in the night and the phrensy of the moment mistaken James for Linde; as the latter had caused the arrest and fine of some parties who had been selling whiskey to the Indians, for the purpose of suppressing the evil; considering his life in danger when the Indians were in liquor, whereas, he had no fear of them when they were sober.
The Doctor resolved to brave out the excite- ment which for a time ran very high. One of his neighbors deserves to be remembered in this connection. A man by the name of John Thorn, a blacksmith, who offered to help Linde in the event of any attack on him. Linde believed if any hostile demonstration were made, it would be immediately; so the night he had sent Fred away, he determined to keep a vigilant watch. Knowing that his dogs would give prompt notice of any hostile approach, it was arranged that he should give Thorn notice, if he were needed, by discharg- ing a gun. The night passed without any dis- turbance, and in the morning Linde decided to empty one of his revolvers, that had been loaded a long time,and, forgetting his arrange- ment with Thorn, commenced discharging the piece. After firing a few shots he happened to look in the direction of Thorn's house, which was just across a little marsh, when he discov- ered Thorn running toward him at full speed, with his rifle in one hand and hunting-knife in the other. There was, however, no need of his services, so they amused themselves for some time in shooting at a mark.
James Clark, of Winchester, as soon as he heard of the danger surrounding his friends, promptly came to their defense, and offered to stand by them till the danger was over.
After the Indians and their friends had fully investigated the sad encounter, it was settled -Indian fashion-one of the conditions of the settlement requiring James to consent to be adopted by the tribe as one of its members, taking the place of the one who was killed. He therefore became a Menominee by adoption.
Many who read the foregoing statement of James' desperate struggle on that, to him, men-
15
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HISTORY OF WINNEBAGO COUNTY, WISCONSIN.
[1844.
orable night, may deem it an exaggeration, but the people who were living here at the time, know the facts to be as they are here substan- tially stated, and will distinctly remember the circumstances. There were, it is true, some differences of opinion as to where the chief blame of the encounter rested; some alleging that the Indians had cause of provocation, in former attempts to drive them from Linde's hunting grounds; but the general opinion seemed to be that it was not reasonable to sup- pose that James would go alone in the night, with any hostile intentions, to a wigwam of three able-bodied Indians; and that the rea- sonable conclusion was, that he thought he could get them to quiet down and give him a chance to hunt; but they, mistaking him in the night for Linde, and being in the first stages of intoxication, construed the visit into an attempt to drive them off, and feeling belli- gerent, attacked him.
INDIAN SCRIMMAGE AT OMRO.
Among the Indian scrimmages, which the Doctor participated in, was one which threat- ened serious consequences.
Captain William Powell had a trading-post near the present site of Omro; and in the sum- mer of 1844, the Winnebagoes were encamped, two hundred strong under old Yellow Thunder, at the outlet of Rush Lake. Yellow Thunder's boy, with eleven other young bucks, came down to Powell's to rob him of his whiskey and have a spree. There happened to be at Powell's shanty, at the time, three other whites: Jed Smalley, Leb Dickinson and Charles Car- ron, a Menominee half-breed. They resisted the attempt of the Winnebago bucks to get the whiskey, and a general fight ensued; but both whites and Indians, well knowing the consequences of using any deadly weapon, con- fined themselves to their fists and clubs. Just as the struggle was at its full height, and after Captain Powell had his right arm broken, but was still using his club with his left, Doctor Linde, who happened to come on a visit, appeared on the scene. The combatants were so engaged that neither party observed the accession to the force of the whites. The Doctor quickly comprehending the situation, and the necessity of prompt action, as the whites were getting the worst of it, threw down his pack, cocked both barrels of his rifle and laid it down on his pack, and went into the scrimmage with his tomahawk. He first struck Yellow Thunder's boy; the Indian turning his head as he received the blow, the tomahawk peeled the skin entirely across the forehead. He fell senseless, when Linde struck another
Indian. The fight now proceeded so vigor- ously that the Doctor had no time for observa- tion, until a cessation of hostilities revealed to the sight twelve Indians hors du combat. Things now looked more serious than ever, for if one Indian was killed the band at Rush Lake would seek revenge in an attempt to kill the whole party; whereas, if no life was lost, it would only be looked on as deserved pun- ishment, and the whites entitled to the highest respect for their victory over such superior numbers.
Measures of safety now had to be taken until it was ascertained whether any of the Indians were killed. Charley Carron was, therefore, sent out to a point, about a mile dis- tant on the trail to Rush Lake with orders to shoot any Indians that were en route for Pow- ell's. Then the party of whites proceeded to pack their goods into their canoes and get everything ready for a sudden start, for if one Indian out of the lot did not recover, they must, with all dispatch, get out of the Winne- bago country into the Lower Fox region and down to Green Bay. If all proved well, Carron was to be notified with a signal of two shots.
Powell's arm was next dressed and set, and then the Indians were attended to, most of them getting upon their feet, having received no serious injury. The wounds of some had to be dressed, but one by one they came out all right : that is, alive; a broken arm or a badly gashed head was no very serious matter. So the young bucks very gratefully partook of the hospitalities, including a little whiskey, which concluded the ceremonies of the occa- sion; only regretting that their plan for getting on a big drunk had miscarried, and laughing at the affair as a bad joke on themselves. Old Yellow Thunder laughed at the discomfiture of the Indians, who, when they returned, sadder, but wiser Indians, had to own up that the good joke of stealing Powell's whiskey, though well conceived, had materially failedin its practical execution.
Doctor Linde was well acquainted with Cha-ka-mo-ca-sin, war chief of the Menominees. From the Doctor we learn the following inci- dents in his career. Like all the war chiefs of Indian tribes he arose to the position through an established reputation for bravery and skill on the war-path. He once made the trip alone from here to the Pacific Coast, stating that he crossed mountains whose tops were covered with snow, and went from the land of sweet waters to those of bitter. This was before the days of over-land travel, when travelers had to be self-sustaining. He was a man of great physical strength and great power of endur-
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1842.]
ance. On one occasion, when lying drunk in his lodge, an enemy stabbed him, the knife passing through the lung. His friends discov- ering him lying dead, as they thought, put on their mourning paint and were singing around him, when, to their surprise, he rose up and asked who was dead. On being informed that he was, and what killed him, he immediately took his knife and went to the lodge of his enemy who was sitting down with his blanket drawn over his head in expectant retribution. Cha-ka-mo-ca-sin pulled off the blanket and told him to "look up if he wanted to see a man.' The Indian stared as if at an apparition. Said Cha-ka-mo-ca-sin: "Do you suppose you could kill a war chief. You don't know how to strike. This is the way;" and suiting the action tothe words, drove the knife into him, up to the hilt, when the Indian fell dead.
On one occasion the Doctor saw him sitting on a log smoking, with all the nonchalance of Indian imperturbability, while his squaw was belaboring him angrily, with all her strength, over the back with a paddle, and accusing him of lying around drunk, when he ought to be hunting and trapping. As the blows increased in number and vigor, he quietly looked around to her and said "it hurts." "I make it hurt more," she replied, renewing the blows with all her strength. After taking his punishment for some time longer with true Indian stolidity, he cooly laid down his pipe and getting up told his squaw to take his place on the log. She
obeyed, for she saw he meant business. He
then took up the paddle and returned measure for measure. She squalled and said "it hurts." "That is what I told you, now you believe it," he replied, and cooly resumed his pipe.
Doctor Linde occupies a prominent place in the pioneer history of this county. He migrated here from Denmark, in 1842, and immediately purchased 280 acres, the present site of the Northern Hospital for the Insane. The patent for this land was issued to him. The first fifteen acres which he cleared and broke, is now the vegetable garden of the hos- pital. On this place he built a log-house, in which he resided for three years, in pioneer style -- hunting, trapping, clearing land, splitting rails, and the other incidental work of a new- comer, excepting when at times important surgical operations demanded his services. He married Miss Sarah Adelaide Dickenson, daughter of Clark Dickenson, who was one of the very early settlers of the county. The Doctor had selected this locality for his future home, then on the very confines of civiliza- tion, for the purpose of gratifying his taste for a frontier life, and his love for hunting, trap-
ping and backwood sports, and consequently did not practice his profession; but being one of the only two professional surgeons in the territory at that time, he was reluctantly com- pelled to practice, when occasion demanded his services.
The country, on his arrival here, was a comparative wilderness, his house and two others, being the only ones between Oshkosh and Winnebago Rapids (now Neenah). The only roads in the country were Indian trails, and the means of transportation, packing by land or in canoes by water, and many a weary mile has he packed his heavy load. The pioneer hospitality of the day is illustrated by his keeping a light burning till late in the night, to guide the traveler on the lake to a place of shelter, and whether Indian or white man, he was welcome to a place by the fireside. Speaking French fluently, and from similarity of tastes, he found most congenial companions among the old French settlers. Being one of the very best rifle shots in the country, he soon became famous among the Indians and whites, and passed a large portion of his time in the chase. His mark was so well known and respected by the Indians, that they never intruded on ground occupied by him, when hunting and trapping. The incidents of his years of backwoods life, would make an inter- esting volume. On one occasion, having 'a number of guns out of doors which he had been cleaning, he observed a band of Potta- wattamies on their travels, who, in passing along near the guns, stopped and contemptu- ously remarked in their language, "White man have heap guns, but can't shoot much." The Doctor came up and by those significant signs with which Indians so readily express them- selves, pointed at the guns and then at the Indians, and holding his other hand about two feet from the ground, to signify that they were little children in the use of fire-arms, and then straightening up and pointing to himself as big man. who would try them. He then took out one of his pistols and got an Indian boy to hold out at arm's length a bit of board, about six inches square, at which he fired, putting a ball nearly in the center. The second shot he struck the center. The boy showed nerve- never flinching a hair's breadth. The Indians then cut off a bit of bark on a tree - long range; on the second shot the doctor's ball struck the center. The Indians, without a word, turned on to the trail and left. The Doctor regards himself an instance of the degen- erating effects of civilization, as he was known among the Indians as White Bear, and by the settlers, as the Hunting-Doctor, "Whereasnow,"
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[1842-52.
he says, he is "only Old Doct Linde." He did not take the precaution of Nicodemus Easy, the father of Marryatt's hero, who, when it was proposed to name his first born after him, objected, on the ground that the boy would be called Young Nick, and he would in contra- distinction be called Old Nick.
After a residence of four years on his land, he moved to Green Bay, where he lived about a year, practicing his profession. While at the Bay, he made the acquaintance of an old Indian, who had been scalped, when a boy, by a Chippewa. A portion of the skull was bare, where the scalp-lock was cut off; this was one of the survivors of a famous event in Menom- inee tradition, and is celebrated by the "Dance of the three Menominees. " When this Indian was a boy, he was, with some women and chil- dren, taken captive by a party of Chippewas. A short time after the Chippewas had departed with their captives, three Menominees on a hunt, who had just killed a deer, came upon the scene of the capture. With the unerring sagacity of Indians, they readily perceived what had taken place, and that the party who attacked and carried off their women and chil- dren, was composed of twenty-one Chippewas. Dividing up the deer among them, which afforded a plentiful supply of food for several days, they immediately took the trail of the Chippewas, and notwithstanding the great dis- parity in numbers, determined, without wait- ing for any accession to their forces, to attempt the recovery of their people, and obtain revenge for the injury. They followed the trail to a point in the Chippewa country, be- yond Post Lake, where they discovered the smoke of their camp. They now proceeded cautiously, and stealthily creeping up, saw the captives and the twenty-one Chippewas. The latter had deposited their fire-arms in a place a little removed from their camp-fire. By a strategic movement the three Menominees suc- ceeded in getting between the Chippewas and their guns, and then quickly possessed them- selves of the latter. Each Menominee then picked out his Chippewa, and fired; three fell dead. They then repeated their shots with fatal rapidity; after which they closed in with the remainder in a hand to hand fight. Every Chippewa was killed, except one old man, whose life was spared for the purpose of send- ing the compliments of the three Menominees to his tribe, and informing them how the Menominees avenged an injury. This event is celebrated by the Menominees with one of their most popular dances.
After something more than a year's residence at Green Bay, Doctor Linde removed to Osh-
kosh. He purchased one and a half acres of land, the present site of the First National Bank and postoffice. While living on this place his wife died, when he sold the place to Col- onel Lucas Miller, and moved to Fond du Lac, and again engaged in the practice of his profession, which he followed for about a year, when he embarked in the fur trade. At this time, about 1852, he married a niece of Gov- ernor Doty - Miss Sarah M. Davis -who died the next year in child-birth. Shortly after this event, he moved with his son Fred, eight years old, to Mukwa, where he lived for five years, chiefly trapping and hunting. * *
For two years Walter James, son of G. P. R. James, the English novelist, lived with him. James, the elder, was Consul at Norfolk, and for a period, acting as English Embassador to the United States. He made a visit to his son and the Doctor, participating with much zest in all the novel incidents of a back-woods life. After a morning's hunt, of a fine Indian summer day in October, during which G.P. R. James killed a deer, and while they were sit- ting down in the house after dinner, the dogs gave signs of the near approach of game. The Doctor, who was lying down comfortably smoking, called to Walter James to take his rifle. He did so, and no, sooner reached the door, than he fired, standing just inside the door-step, bringing down a large buck, whose last jump was in the vegetable garden, where he fell dead.
After a residence of five years at Mukwa, Doctor Linde removed to Oshkosh, where he has since resided and engaged in the practice of his profession. and is now associated with his son, Doctor F. H. Linde, in an extensive practice. He has risen to eminence as one of the leading physicians of the State, and among the highest of the State Medical Association. His son, Fred, has already established his rep- utation as a successful practitioner, and is devotedlv attentive to his profession.
The old hunter and trapper has had to suc- cumb to the civilization which crowded him and the Indians from their old hunting-grounds; but the Doctor says, were it not for his child- ren, he would return with the greatest pleasure to his beloved frontier life, and the enjoyments and hardships of the chase.
THE LOST PARTRIDGE CHILD.
In April, 1852, a great excitement prevailed throughout the county, occasioned by the supposed discovery of a white child among the Menominees, that they were suspected of hav- ing stolen two years previous.
The father of the lost child was Mr. Alvin
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18.52.]
Partridge, who lived on a farm in the Town of Vinland, and owned a piece of woodland which was situated about five miles from his residence. To this place he repaired with his family early in the spring, and lived in a camp while he was engaged in making maple sugar. His little son, Casper, three or four years old, wandered away from the camp, and was missed immediately after his disappearance, when search was made for him; but night came on and the child could not be found. The ago- nized parents were frantic with grief, and the sympathising settlers from far and near, num- bering hundreds, turned out and searched night and day, scouring the woods in every direction; but no trace of him could be discov- ered, with the exception of a small piece of his dress, which was found near the edge of รก marsh. What became of the poor little fellow is to this day, a matter of conjecture; many believing that he wandered off to the Rat River marshes, which were partly frozen and got into some deep hole of mud and water.
Two years after this sad occurrence, the bereaved parents were informed that a Menom- inee woman, named Nah-Kom, was in posses- sion of a child that was suspected to be the lost one. Mr. Partridge at once went to see Nah-Kom, who very kindly consented to go with her little boy to see Mrs. Partridge, and remained at Partridge's house over night. It became very evident to Mrs. Partridge that the child was not hers, as she failed to recognize any resemblance, and the boy showed no signs of remembering any of the things about the house, that the lost child was so familiar with; so Nah-Kom was suffered to depart with her child, who was a half-breed, and bore some resemblance to a white child, which was all the reason for the suspicion that it had been stolen.
Although the parents of the lost child, and especially the mother, were convinced at first that the boy with Nah-Kom was not their child, they seem to have been afterwards per- suaded through the persistent efforts of friends, to take legal measures for the recovery of the child. Therefore, Mr. Partridge's brother, who was most persistent in the matter, took out the necessary papers, and accompanied by a deputy sheriff of Winnebago County, Kendrick Kimball, went to Nah-Kom's camp, which was then in the western part of Wau- shara County, and demanded the boy, who was to remain in the custody of the officer till the court determined the case. The Indians at once complied with the demands of the law, although poor Nah-Kom cried until she found she could accompany the child. Although the
Menominees had been invariably kind to the whites, and had in many instances saved many white families from perishing with hunger; still, the sheriff found eight or ten teams loaded with armed men, which shows how easy it is to create an unjust hostility toward the poor Indian.
Mr. Kimball, however, took no one with him but the parties immediately concerned, and found no difficulty with the Indians. He brought Nah-Kom with her little boy, and another Menominee woman for company for her, to Oshkosh, and kept the boy at his house over two weeks.
The trial was before Court Commissioner Buttrick, and was attended by an immense concourse of people.
Those who were familiar with Indians, on seeing Nah-Kom and the child, had not the least doubt that the child was hers, and that it was a half-breed. The most conclusive evi- dence was given in favor of Nah-Kom's claim to be the mother of the boy; among other, that of a most estimable lady, Mrs. Dousman, of Keshena, who was cognizant of the child's baptism, and had seen him frequently from babyhood to the time of the trial. The interper- ter and traders, and the chief, Oshkosh, also testified to a personal knowledge of the child from the time of its birth.
After hearing all the evidence in the case the court allowed. Mr. Partridge to keep the child in his family, pending the decision. After duly considering the case, the court decided in favor of the claim of Nah-Kom, and the sheriff, with an order, started for the boy. Arriving at Partridge's house, the sheriff was told that if the boy went, Mr. Partridge must go too, and he was requested to wait till a team could be harnessed. The sheriff con- sented, but before the team was harnessed, some twenty men assembled and informed the sheriff that he could not have the boy. The child was then spirited away; but the Indian agent took measures by which the Menom- inees recovered him. The Partridges then instituted another trial before Judge Smith in Milwaukee. The court again decided in favor of the Indians, but that the child should remain in the hands of the sheriff for two days, to give the Partridges time to com- mence new proceedings, if they desired; but instead of taking legal measures to obtain him, they managed in some way to get possession of him and ran him off. This is what the Indians call white man's justice, and is to the certain knowledge of the writer, about a fair sample of the general treatment they have received at the hands of the whites.
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HISTORY OF WINNEBAGO COUNTY, WISCONSIN.
[1845-52.
The father and the mother of the lost child, if left to their own judgment, would not have made any effort to get the boy, believing it was not theirs; but the over-officiousness of irresponsible parties, worked up their feelings to a high pitch, which were intensified by the painful uncertainty of the fate of their lost one. The bereaved parents were to be pitied, and so was the poor Indian mother, so unjustly bereft of her child.
The Partridges fled to Kansas with the boy, where he grew to manhood in their family, and served as asoldier in the late war.
The skeleton of a four or five year old child was afterwards found on a marsh, not far from the site of the Partridge sugar-camp.
The head men of the Menominees were in Milwaukee in attendance at the trial, and when the child was thus unlawfully taken away, they went to the Sentinel office, accompanied by William Johnson, the interpreter, Captain William Powell, and Robert Grignon, to tell the world, through the medium of the press, of the wrong that had been done them. Their request was readily granted, when Oshkosh spoke as follows:
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