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Post by mdenney on Feb 11, 2007 17:46:01 GMT -5
AFRAID OF HAWK GEORGE M. 33 AFRAID OF HAWK MARGARET 42 AFRAID OF HAWK MARIA ... 22 DUNN GEORGE SR. 22 DUNN JOSEPHINE 24 DUNN LOUIE 22 DUNN MARGARET Sioux County - Index to "Cemeteries of Sioux County, North Dakota ... 43 AFRAID OF HAWK GEORGE M. 33 AFRAID OF HAWK MARGARET 42 AFRAID OF HAWK MARIA ... 22 DUNN GEORGE SR. 22 DUNN JOSEPHINE 24 DUNN LOUIE 22 DUNN MARGARET 22 ... ftp.rootsweb.com/pub/usgenweb/nd/sioux/cemetery/si... link below- ftp.rootsweb.com/pub/usgenweb/nd/sioux/cemetery/siouxcem.txt |
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Post by mdenney on Feb 13, 2007 16:33:32 GMT -5
Big Eagle You know how the war started -- by the killing of some white people near Acton, in Meeker county. I will tell you how this was done, as it was told me by all of the four young men who did the killing. These young fellows all belonged to Shakopee's band. Their names were Sungigidan ("Brown Wing"), Ka-om-de-i-ye-ye-dan ("Breaking Up'), Nagi-we-cak-te ("Killing Ghost"), and Pa-zo-i-yo-pa ('Runs against Something when Crawling'). I do not think their names have ever before been printed. One of them is yet living. They told me they did not go out to kill white people. They said they went over to the Big Woods to hunt: that on Sunday, Aug. 17, they came to a settler's fence, and here they found a hen's nest with some eggs in it. One of them took the eggs, when another said: "Don't take them, for they belong to a white man and we may get into trouble." The other was angry, for he was very hungry and wanted to eat the eggs, and he dashed them to the ground and replied: "You are a coward. You are afraid of the white man. You are afraid to take even an egg from him, though you are half-starved. Yes, you are a coward, and I will tell everybody so." The other replied. "I am not a coward. I am not afraid of the white man, and to show you that I am not I will go to the house and shoot him. Are you brave enough to go with me?" The one who had called him a coward said: "Yes, I will go with you, and we will see who is the braver of us two." Their companions then said: "We will go with you, and we will be brave, too." They all went to the house of the white man (Mr. Robinson Jones), but he got alarmed and went to another house (that of his son-in-law, Howard Baker where were some other white men and women (Jones, Baker, a Mr. Webster, Mrs. Jones and a girl of fourteen). Then they hitched up a team belonging to another settler and drove to Shakopee's camp which they reached late that night and told what they had done, as I have related. The tale told by the young men created the greatest excitement. Everybody was waked up and heard it. Shakopee took the young men to Little Crow's house (two miles above the agency), and he sat up in bed and listened to their story. He said war was now declared. Blood had been shed, the payment would be stopped, and the whites would take a dreadful vengeance because women had been killed. Wabasha. Wacouta, myself and others still talked for peace, but nobody would listen to us, and soon the cry was "Kill the whites and kill all these cut-hairs who will not join us." A council was held and war was declared. Parties formed and dashed away in the darkness to kill settlers. The women began to run bullets and the men to clean their guns. At this time my village was up on Crow creek, near Little Crow's. I did not have a very large band -- not more than thirty or forty fighting men. Most of them were not for the war at first, but nearly all got into it at last. A great many members of the other bands were like my men; they took no par in the first movements, but afterward did. The next morning, when the force started down to attack the agency, I went along. I did not lead my band, and I took no part in the killing. I went to save the lives of two particular friends if I could. I think others went for the same reason, for nearly every Indian had a friend that he did not want killed; of course he did not care about anybody's else (sic) friend. The killing was nearly all done when I got there. Little Crow was on the ground directing operations. The day before, he had attended church there and listened closely to the sermon and had shaken hands with everybody. So many Indians have lied about their saving the lives of white people that I dislike to speak of what I did. But I did save the life of George H. Spencer at the time of the massacre. I know that his friend, Chaska, has always had the credit of that, but Spencer would have been a dead man in spite of Chaska if it had not been for me. I asked Spencer about this once, but he said he was wounded at the time and so excited that he could not remember what I did. Once after that I kept a half-breed family from being murdered; these are all the people whose lives I claim to have saved. I was never present when the white people were willfully murdered. I saw all the dead bodies at the agency. Mr. Andrew Myrick, a trader, with an Indian wife, had refused some hungry Indians credit a short time before when they asked him for provisions. He said to them; "Go and eat grass." Now he was lying on the ground dead, with his mouth stuffed full of grass, and the Indians were saying tauntingly: "Myrick is eating grass himself." When I returned to my village that day I found that many of my band had changed their minds about the war, and wanted to go into it. All the other villagers were the same way. I was still of the belief that it was not best, but I thought I must go with my band and my nation, and I said to my men that I would lead them into the war, and we would all act like brave Dakotas and do the best we could.
link below-
www.law.umkc.edu/faculty/projects/ftrials/dakota/BigEagle.html |
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Post by mdenney on Feb 13, 2007 16:35:18 GMT -5
Otakle (Godfrey) [1] All of this the red cut-throats knew . What they did not know, however, was that among them there was one of the cruelest murderers, a devil in human form, a scoundrel 20 times deserving of death, who would appear as the state's witness against all of them. He was a Mulatto who was married to a woman of their tribe. Years ago he had been adopted by the latter and was thus considered as one of their very own. Beginning with the first day of the outbreak, this black-yellow Negro was the cruelest of the cruel red murder gang. Hair-raising stories of deeds of cruelty were reported of this monster. But now captured, the cowardly brute trembled at the thought of a twenty-fold deserved death. In order to save his miserable life he appeared as a state witness against his own accomplices against men of the tribe to which he had belonged for years. Very well, said Pascha Mustapha, during the Greek war for independence to a Greek who had given him splendid service as a spy and traitor against his own people and fellow believers. Very well, your services were most valuable to us and here you also have the reward which is due you. But now, since everything is in order and you have received and pocketed your sinful reward, I shall have you beheaded, for a fellow like you, who betrays his own people, will betray me and my own just the same and at the very first opportunity. And so it happened that the traitor was at once executed. Too bad that President Lincoln was no Pascha Mustapha and did not deal with the bad Mulatto as the Turk had done with the shameful Greek. The Mulatto showed himself as a splendid witness, for he brought things to the point that 38 of his shameful accomplices were sentenced to death and a number of others sent to the penitentiary. [Nix, The Sioux Uprising in Minnesota: Jacob Nix's Eyewitness History] [2] The first time I heard of the trouble I was mowing hay. About noon an Indian was making hay near me. I went to help him, to change work; he was to lend me his oxen. I helped him lead some hay, and as we took it to his place we heard hallooing, and saw a man on horseback. with a gun across his legs before him. When he saw me he drew his gun up and thingyed it. The Indian with me asked him 'What's the matter?' He looked strange. He wore a new hat -- a soft gray hat -- and had a new white leather ox or mule whip. He said all the white people had been killed at the agency. The Indian with me asked who did it, and he replied the Indians, and that they would soon be down that wy to kill the settlers toward New Ulm. He asked me which side I would take. He said I would have to go home and take off my clothes, and put on a breech-clout. I was afraid, because he held his gun as if he would kill me. I went to my house and told my wife to get ready, and we would try to get away. I told my wife about what the Indian told me. I told her we would try to get down the river. She told me we would be killed with the white people. We got something ready to take with use to eat, and started-- we got bout two hundred yards into the woods. (The old man, my wife's father, said he would fasten the house and follow after.) We heard some one halloo. It was the old man. He called to us to come back. I told my wife to go on, but her mother told her to stop. I told them to go ahead; but the old man called so much that they stopped and turned back. I followed them. I found my squaw's uncle at the house. He scolded my wife and her mother for trying to get away; he said all the Indians had gone to the agency, and that they must go there. He said we would be killed if we went toward the white folks; that we would only be safe to go on and join the Indians. I still had my pants off and put on the breech-clout. I did so. The uncle said we must take a rope and catch a horse. I started with him toward New Ulm, and we met a lot of Indians at the creek, about a mile from my house. They were all painted, and said I must be painted. They then painted me. I was afraid to refuse. They asked me why I didn't have a gun, or knife, or some weapon. I told them I had no gun -- the old man had taken it away. One Indian hd a spear, a gun, and a little hatchet. He told me to take the hatchet, and that I must fight with the Indians, and do the same they did, or I would be killed. We started down the road. We saw two wagons with people in them coming toward us. The Indians consulted what to do, and decided for half of them to go up to a house off the road, on the right-hand side. They started, but I stopped, and they called me and told me I must come on. There was an old man, a boy and two young woman at the house -- Dutch people. The family's name was something like 'Masseybush.' The boy and two girls stood outside, near the kitchen door. Half of the Indians went to the house, half remained in the road. The Indians told me to tell the whites that there were Chippeways about, and that they (the Indians) were after them. I did not say any thing. The Indians asked for some water. The girls went into the house, and the Indians followed and talked in Sioux. One said to me, 'Here is a gun for you.' Dinner was on the table, and the Indians said, 'After we kill, them we will have dinner. They told me to watch the road, and when the teams came up to tell them. I turned to look, and just then I heard the Indians shoot; I looked, and two girls fell just outside the door. I did not go in the house; I started to go round the house. We were on the back side of it, when I heard the Indians on the road hallooing and shouting. They called me, and I went to the road and saw them killing white men. My brother-in-law told me that I must take care of a team that he was holding; that it was his. I saw two men killed that were with this wagon. I did not see who were killed in the other wagon. I saw one Indian stick his knife in the side of a man that was not yet dead; he cut his side open, and then cut him all to pieces. His name was Wakantonka (great spirit). Two of the Indians that killed people in the house have been convicted. Their names are Waki-ya-ni and Mah-hwa. There were about ten Indians at the house, and about the same number in the road. I got into the wagon and the Indians all got in. We turned and went toward New Ulm. When we got near to a house the Indians all got out and ran ahead of the wagons, and two or three went to each house, and in that way they killed all the people along the road. I staid in the wagon , and did not see the people killed. They killed the people of six or eight houses -- all until we got to the 'Travelers' Home.' There were other Indians killing people all through the settlement. We could see them and hear them all around. I was standing in the wagon, and could see three, or four, or five Indians at every house. When we got near the 'Travelers' home' they told me to stop. I saw an old woman with two children -- one in each hand -- run away across the yard. One Indian, Maza-bom-doo, who was convicted, shot the old woman, and jumped over and kicked the children down with his feet. The old woman fell down as if dead. I turned away my head, and did not see whether the children were killed. After that I heard a shot behind the barn, but did not see who was shot. I supposed some one was killed. After that the Indians got in the wagon, and told me to start down the road. We started on, and got to a house where a man lived named Schling -- a German -- an old man. The Indians found a jug in the wagon, and were now almost drunk. They told me to jump out. I jumped out and started ahead, and the Indians called me to come back. They threw out a hatchet, and said I must go to the house and kill the people. Maza-bom-doo was ahead. He told me there were three guns there that he had left for some flour, and we must get them. I was afraid. I went into the house. There was the old man, his wife and son, and a boy and another man. They were at dinner. The door stood open, and the Indians were right behind me, and pushed me in. I struck the old man on the shoulder with the flat of the hatchet, and then the Indians rushed in and commenced to shoot them. The old man, woman, and boy ran into the kitchen. The other man ran out some way, I did not see how; but when we went back to the road, about twenty steps, I saw him in the road dead. He was the man I struck in the house. I heard the Indians shoot back of the house, but did not see shat at. After we started to go to Red-Wood, one little Indian, who had pox marks in his face, and who was killed at Wood Lake, said he struck the boy with a knife, but didn't say if he killed him. He told this to the other Indians. We saw coming up the road two wagons, one with a flag in it. The Indians were afraid, and we started back, and went past the 'Travelers' Home." We got to a bridge, and the Indians got out and laid down in the grass about the bridge. I went on up the road. The wagons, with the white men, came on up and stopped in the road, where there was a dead man, I think; then they sounded the bugle and started to cross the bridge, running their horses. The foremost wagon had one horse, of a gray color; three men were in it, and had the flag. Just as they came across the bridge, the indians raised up and shot. The three men fell out, and the team went on. The Indians ran and caught it. The other wagon had not got across the bridge. I heard them shoot at the men in it, but I did not see them. After the Indians brought the second wagon across the bridge, three Indians got in the wagon. After that all of them talked together, and said that it was late (the sun was nearly down), and that they must look after their wives and children that had started to go to Red-Wood. Many of these Indians lived on the lower end of the reservation. The two horse team that they had just taken was very much frightened, and they could not hold them. They told me I must take and hold them, and drive them. I took the team, and they all got in. We then had four teams. We started from there, and went on up. When we got to where the first people were killed, the Indians told me to drive up to the house. The two girls were lying dead. I saw one girl with her head cut off; the head was gone. One Indian, an old man, asked who cut the head off; he said it was too bad. The other Indians said they did not know. The girls' clothes were turned up. The old man put them down. He is now in prison; his name is Wazakoota; he is a good old man. While we stood there one wagon went to another house, and I heard a gun go off. We started up the road, and stopped at a creek about a mile farther on. We waited for some of the Indians that were behind. While we were there we saw a house on fire. When the Indians came up they said that Wak-pa-doo-ta, my father-in-law, shot a woman, who was on a bed sick, through the window; and that an old man ran up stairs, and the Indians were afraid to go in the house; they thought he had a gun, and they set fire to the house and left it. We them started on from that creek, and went about seven miles to near a little lake (about a hundred yards from the road). We saw, far away, a wagon coming toward us. When it was only two miles away from us we saw it was a two-horse wagon, but the Indians didn't know if it was white people. When it came near they told me to go fast. The Indians whipped the horses and hurried them on. Two Indians were ahead of us on horseback. Pretty soon we came near, and the team that was coming toward us stopped and turned around and the Indians said it was white men, and they were trying to run away. The two on horseback then shot, and I saw a white man -- Patville -- fall back over his seat; and after that I saw three women and one man jump out of the wagon and run. Then those in the wagon with me jumped out and ran after the women. We got up to the wagon. Patville was not dead. The Indians threw him out, and a young Indian, sentenced to be hung, stuck a knife between his ribs, under the arm, and another one, who is with Little Crow, and beat his head all to pieces. The other Indians killed the other white man near the little lake, and brought back the three women -- Mattie Williams, Mary Anderson, and Mary Swan. Patville's wagon was full of trunks. The Indians broke them open and took the things out; there were some goods in them (Patville was a sort of trader on the reservation). They put one win my wagon (Mary Swan) was caught by Masa-bom-doo. Tazoo had Mattie Williams. We then went on, and stopped at a creek about a mile ahead to water the horses. Then they called me to ask the woman that was wounded if she was badly hurt. She said 'Yes.' They told me to ask her to show the wound, and that they would do something for it. She showed the wound. The ball did not come out. She asked where we were going. I said I didn't know; that they came around on the prairie past Red-Wood. I told her I heard that all the whites at the agency were killed and the stores robbed. She said she wished they would drive fast, so she could have a doctor do something for her wound; she was afraid she would die. I said I was a prisoner too. She asked what would be done with them. I said I didn't know; perhaps we would all be killed. I said maybe the doctor was killed, if all the white people were. After that we started on, and got to the Red-Wood Agency about nine o'clock. It was dark. Then the Indians looked round, and did not see any people. We went on to Wacouta's house. He came out, and told me to tell the girl in my wagon to go into his house. I told the girl; but she was afraid, and said she thought the other women were somewhere else. I told her that Wacouta said they were in his house, and she had better go. Wacouta told her to go with him, and she got out and went with him. I then went on to Little Crow's village, where most all of the Indians had gone. I found my wife there. We staid some time there, and then started for the fort. They asked me to go to drive a team. After we got there they commenced to fight. The broke in the stable, and told me to go and take all the horses I could. I got a black mare, but an Indian took it away from me. They fought all day, and slept at night in the old stable under the hill. The next morning they fought only a little; it was raining. We then went back to Red-Wood. In about six days after all the Indians started, and said they would go to Mankato. They came down toward the fort on that side of the river, and crossed near the 'Travelers' Home.' When they got opposite the fort they stopped, and talked of trying to get in again, but did not. About noon they went on to New Ulm. I saw no white people on the road. I got to New Ulm about two hours after noon. They burned houses, and shot, and fought. They slept at New Ulm that night and the next day went back to Little Crow's village. (This was the last fight at New Ulm; Godfrey says he was not there at the first fight. He was then at Little Crow's village.) After a few days we went to Rice Creek; staid there a few days, and started again to come to Mankato. After crossing the Red-Wood we went up the hill, and saw wagons on the prairie on the other side of the river. After the Indians had all crossed the Red-Wood, half staid there all night, and half went over the Minnesota to where they saw the wagons. Those that staid back went over early the next morning. I went with them. We got there at sunrise. We heard shooting just before we got there. They were shooting all day. They killed all the horses. (This was the battle of Birch Coolie.) At night the Indians killed some cattle, and cooked and ate some meat. Some talked of trying to get into the camp, and some tried it all night. Others talked of watching till they should drive them out for want of water. Three Indians were killed that day -- so the Indians said,. I saw some wounded -- I should think five. In the morning some more talk was had about trying to get in. In the mean time we saw soldiers coming up, and half of the Indians started to try and stop them, and the other half staid to watch the camp at Birch Coolie. They went down to try and stop the soldiers, and afterward came back and said 'twas no use -- that they couldn't stop them. Some wanted to try and get the whites into Birch Coolie, but others thought they had better go back. They fired some shots, and then started back. The Sissetons got to us while we were there the second day, about two or three hours before the Indians all left. The Indians left a little before sundown. The crossed the river at the old crossing, and went up to the site of Reynolds's house, the other side of the Red-Wood, and camped. They started about midnight to go to Rice Creek. Got there about sunrise. Staid there several days. While we were at Birch Coolie Little Crow was at the Big Woods. He got back to Rice Creek two days after we did. We went from Rice Creek to Yellow Medicine; staid there about two weeks. While there ten or twenty stared every day to see if soldiers were coming. When they reported that soldiers were on the way, we moved out camp to where Mr. Riggs lived; then up to Rid Iron's village; the to a little way from where the friendly camp was. After the scouts reported that soldiers had crossed the Red-Wood, Little Crow made a speech, and said that all must fight; that it would be the last fight, and the all must do the best they could. Scouts reported about midnight that soldiers were camped at Rice Creek. In the morning we all started down to Yellow Medicine; got there a little before sundown. Some were there earlier. We staid at Yellow Medicine all night. Some wanted to begin the attack in the night, but others thought 'twas best to wait till morning. In the morning the fight began. After the fight, went back to get all to go with him, but they would not. Little Crow started away in the night. I didn't see him go. I never was out at any of the war parties except once at New Ulm (the last fight), once at the fort, at Birch Coolie, and Wood Lake. They thought that the Winnebagoes would commence at Mankato and attack the lower settlements. [Godfrey's statement, as edited by the Commission's Recorder, Isaac Heard:] link below- www.law.umkc.edu/faculty/projects/ftrials/dakota/godfrey2.html |
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Post by mdenney on Feb 13, 2007 16:36:37 GMT -5
Hdainyanka (or Rdainyanka) Rda-in-yan-ka (Rattling Runner). David Faribault swore that prisoner was very active among those who shot at Marsh's men, and that he saw him firing in the battles of the fort, New Ulm, and Wood Lake; that he took a prominent part, was the exhorter, and did all he could to push the others ahead; that, before going to Wood Lake, he ran through the camp, urging the Indians to kill every body and take their goods; and that he made a speech, in which he offered two bunches of wampum which he displayed, for the first scalp, and two bunches of crow's feathers (very precious) for the scalp of Sibley or of Forbes, Paul and Lorenzo testified that he opposed giving up the white captives. (He was a son-in-law of Wabashaw.) He said he did not know of the uprising on Monday, the 18th of August, until they had killed a number of men. He then went out and met Little Crow, and tried to stop the murders, but could not. The next day his son was brought home wounded from Fort Ridgely. He forbade the delivery up of the white captives to Paul when he demanded them, and he supposed that he was to be hung for that. [Heard, The Sioux War and Massacre] [2] I am for continuing the war, and am opposed to the delivery of the prisoners. I have no confidence that the whites will stand by any agreement they make if we give them up. Ever since we treated with them their agents and traders have robbed and cheated us. Some of our people have been shot, some hung; others placed upon floating ice and drowned; and many have been starved in their prisons. It was not the intention of the nation to kill any of the whites until after the four men returned from Acton and told what they had done. When they did this, all the young men became excited, and commenced the massacre. The older ones would have prevented it if they could, but since the treaties they have lost all their influence. We may regret what has happened but the matter has gone too far to be remedied. We have got to die. Let us, then, kill as many of the whites as possible, and let the prisoners die with us. [SPEECH OF HDAINYANKA IN FAVOR OF CONTINUING WAR, Heard, History of Sioux War, 151-52] link below- www.law.umkc.edu/faculty/projects/ftrials/dakota/Rdainyanka.html |
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Post by mdenney on Feb 13, 2007 16:37:44 GMT -5
White Dog (Shoonkaska) Among the condemned there were several whom I had known in years gone by. It was in my house at Fort Ridgely and in the home of that fine interpreter named Quinn where I had met and often seen them. Particularly two of them I knew very well. White Dog, a young Indian of splendid physique, about 24 years of age, and an older Redskin of about 45. I had seen them a number of times. White Dog, by the way, was an Indian Don Juan, of whom they said at that time, that he did not merely "turn the heads" of young Indian maidens, but that he had succeeded with a number of white women as well. Furthermore, he was really a wild fellow. When he could secure fire-water by paying ten times its price to some white scoundrel, he became so awfully drunk, that he was placed in a dark hole of the main guard quarters of the Fort more often than he liked. He was them, as might be expected, one of the greatest scoundrels among all the other red scoundrels during the time of the Indian uprising. That he, who was otherwise a sly Indian, should be caught in the trap at Camp Release and give himself up to General Sibley in the hope of receiving a pardon can only be attributed to the fact that he had a love affair with a white woman who had been taken captive by the Indians. She had assured him that her influence and her testimony would certainly free him. But the lady was mistaken. The shameful atrocities of the red scoundrel were so definitely proved to him that all the pleading, wringing of hands, and the tears of this white woman could not save him from the gallows. [Jacob Nix, The Sioux Uprising in Minnesota: Jacob Nix's Eyewitness History] link below- www.law.umkc.edu/faculty/projects/ftrials/dakota/whitedog.html |
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Post by mdenney on Feb 13, 2007 16:38:33 GMT -5
Cut-Nose We had proceeded but a little ways when we came upon four dead bodies -- three men and one woman -- all horribly mutilated. Our captors had committed the murders. The men had been mowing, and the woman had been raking hay. Their scythes and pitchforks lay near -- the woman had a pitchfork sticking in her person, and one of the men had a scythe sticking into his body. Cut Nose gleefully told that he had killed this man and described how he did it. The man was mowing, he said, and he went up to him in a friendly manner and offered his hand, and as the white man threw down his scythe and reached out his hand the Indian drew his knife and like a flash plunged it into the white man's breast, just under the chin, whereupon the white man grasped him around the waist and both struggled for the mastery, when they fell -- the white man on top. In working the knife into his breast the Indian got his thumb into the white man's mouth and "got bit." The knife in the hands of the Indian soon touched a vital spot and the white man rolled off dead. Cut Nose held up his bitten thumb. It was bitten and chewed, and was lacerated most horribly. This fiend in human shape, this man Cut Nose, presented a most forbidden [sic], horrifying spectacle. With his bloody thumb he had besmeared his naked body, with his blackened face and long bushy hair like a Zulu's, and a half nose (one of his nostrils was missing) he was by far the ugliest looking and most repulsive specimen of humanity I had ever seen. [Samuel Brown's Account, Through Dakota Eyes] [2] The most repulsive-looking prisoner was Cut-nose, some of whose acts have been detailed by Samuel Brown. He was the foremost man in many of the massacres. The first and second days of the outbreak he devoted his attention particularly to the Beaver Creek settlement, and to the fugitives on that side of the river. I will give a single additional instance of the atrocity of this wretch and his companions. A part of settlers were gathered together for flight when the savages approached; the defenseless, helpless women and children, huddled together in the wagons, bending down their heads, and drawing over them still closer their shawls. Cut-nose, while two others held the horses, leaped into a wagon that contained eleven, mostly children, and deliberately, in cold blood, tomahawked them all---cleft open the head of each, while the others, stupefied with horror, powerless with fright, as they heard the heavy dull blows crash and tear through flesh and bones, awaited their turn. Taking an infant from its mother's arms, before her eyes, with a bolt from one of the wagons they riveted it through its body to the fence and left it there to die, writhing in agony. After holding for a while the mother before this agonizing spectacle, they chopped off her arms and legs, and left her to bleed to death. Thus they butchered twenty-five within a quarter of an acre. Kicking the bodies out of the wagons, they filled them with plunder from the burning houses, and, sending them back, pushed on for other adventures. [Heard, The History of the Great Sioux Uprising and Massacre] link below- www.law.umkc.edu/faculty/projects/ftrials/dakota/Cutnose.html |
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Post by mdenney on Feb 13, 2007 16:39:48 GMT -5
Tazoo Tazoo, alias Ptan-doo-tah (Red Otter), Prisoner was professional juggler and medicine man, and was convicted of rape upon the testimony of the violated woman herself, and of participation in the murder of Patville. He tied her hands. The lady testified that he acted as if delighted with the acts of the others of the war party, and helped to plunder. Her testimony was fully corroborated by others, and her own reputation was stainless. Godfrey refers to this Indian in his account of the Patville murder Prisoner said he had very sore eyes at the commencement of the outbreak, and was at that time opposite Fort Ridgely. He was with the party that killed Patville and others. Maza-bom-doo killed Patville. He himself took Miss Williams captive. Said he would have violated the women, but they resisted. He thought he did a good deed in saving the women alive. [Heard, THE SIOUX WAR AND MASSACRE] [2] [T]ell our friends that we are being removed from this world over the same path they must shortly travel. We go first, but many of our friends may follow us in a very short time. I expect to go direct to the abode of the Great Spirit, and to be happy when I get there; but we are told that the road is long and the distance great; therefore, as I am slow in my movements, it will probably take me a long time to reach the end of the journey, and I should not be surprised if some of the young, active men we will leave behind us will pass me on the road before I reach the place of my destination. [STATEMENT OF TAZOO AT THE TIME OF HIS EXECUTION(Dec. 24, 1862)] link below- www.law.umkc.edu/faculty/projects/ftrials/dakota/tazoo.html |
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Post by mdenney on Feb 13, 2007 16:40:47 GMT -5
John Other Day Other Day, one of the few Indians under whose red skin beat a human and thankful heart, knew that the uprising was not caused by the southern rebels. Other Day has established for his name and honorable place in the history of Minnesota, because the bearer of that name, in grateful remembrance of the ever open hand of the white man in times of need, had continuously advised his tribesman against going on the warpath against the pale face. When he was later asked whether any representative of the southern rebel government had, at that time, appeared among the Indians and had incited them by means of deceptive pretense to make war against the white man, Other Day declared that this was not the case. If this were still insisted upon, he would have to declare it to be an infamous lie. This brace Indian had attended all the secret meetings of his tribesmen, in which he always arose as a friend of his white brothers and advised peace. Again in the meeting held the day before the outbreak, he protested against all violence. Other Day, and we cannot mention the name of this brave man often enough, when he was convinced that the bloodthirsty desires of his dehumanized tribesman could not be stilled by words of reconciliation left his coat and hat behind as he took flight from this last and decisive council of the Redskins. Besides, at this meeting, Little Crow had repeatedly declared him to be a traitor of his tribe and hence, an outlaw. The brave man, knowing full well that the lives of many whites depended upon him, now hurried as rapidly as he could to the Upper Agency, which was most distantly located from all places of refuge. He saved the lives of sixty men, women and children, by taking them along remote paths through the prairie to a place of safety. Honor be to his memory! [Jacob Nix, The Sioux Uprsing in Minnesota: Jacob Nix's Eyewitness History] [2] ON MONDAY, the 18th, about 8 o'clock A.M., word came to the upper Agency at Yellow Medicine, that all the white people at the Lower or Red Wood Agency, had been murdered by the M'dewakanton Sioux. Then the Indians, at the call of their chiefs, assembled in council to the number of about 100 -- Sissetons and Wakpetons, and about 30 young Yanktons who were present, but being without a chief had no voice in the council. At 12 M., while they were debating what course to take, word came that a party of soldiers had arrived at the Red Wood Agency, and were all killed. This news still further agitated the council, which was greatly divided in sentiment . . . . Other-Day himself addressed them. He told them that they might easily enough kill a few whites -- five, ten, or a hundred. But the consequence would be that their whole country would be filled with soldiers of the United States, and all of them killed or driven away. "Some of you," he said, "say you have horses an may escape to the plains; but what will become of those who have no horses." They replied to this that all would happen anyway. After a long debate, towards evening the Yanktons, Sissitons, and a few of the Wakpetons, rising from the council, without coming to any conclusion, moved towards the houses of the whites, for the purpose of killing them. In the meantime he (Other-Day) took his wife by the arm, took his gun and went to the houses of the whites, informed them of their danger (for they had preciously known nothing of the council) and hurried them all to the Agency house, a brick building about a mile from the place where the council was held. They assembled here armed, to the number of over fifty, resolved to defend themselves and families to the last extremity. Then he got four of his relatives to assist him in guarding the building from assault during Monday night. [From the Saint Paul Press, August 28, 1862] link below- www.law.umkc.edu/faculty/projects/ftrials/dakota/otherday.htm |
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Post by mdenney on Feb 13, 2007 16:41:52 GMT -5
Taopi On the morning of the 18th of August, 1862 I was preparing to go down to the Mission House, the residence of our minister, the Rev. Mr. Hinman. He had promised to go with me to assist in laying out our burial lot near the new church. My child had been buried but a few days before. As I was about starting, the old man (Tah-e-m-na) came to my house and said, "All the upper bands are armed and coming down the road." I asked, "For what purpose are they coming?" He said, "I don't know." The old man had hardly gone out when Ta-te-campi came running to my house and said, "They are killing the traders." I said, "What do you mean?" He said, "The Rice Creek Indians [Shakopee's band] have murdered the whites o the other side of the Minnesota River , and now they are killing the traders." I said. "This is awful work." As soon as he was gone I heard the report of guns. I went up to the top of my house and from there I could hear the shouts of the Indians and see them plundering the stores. The men of my band now began to assemble at my house. We counseled, but we could do nothing to resist the hostile Indians because we were so few and they were between us and the settlements. I told them not only to keep out of the disturbance but also not to go near the plunderers. Some of them obeyed me. I sent Good Thunder with a message to Wabasha, but he could not reach his house on account of the hostile Indians. The hostile Indians soon came to our village and commanded us to take off our citizen's clothing and put on blanket and leggings. They said they would kill all of us "bad talkers." We took our guns and were prepared to defend ourselves. We did not know what to do. I wanted to take my wagon and go to the whites, but I could not. Good Thunder came back and brought news that nearly a whole company of soldiers from the fort had been killed at the Ferry. Good Thunder and Wa-ha-can-ka-ma-za and myself went into my cornfield to talk over the matter. We wanted to escape the fort that night, but we could not because we were watched. We determined to go to the whites at the first opportunity. I proposed to take two white girls who had been taken prisoners at Redwood, and take them to within a short distance of the fort, and them send them in with a letter stating that we were ready to cooperate with the whites in any way they might direct. We were ready, but the girls were afraid to go. [Statement of Taopi, Through Dakota Eyes] link below- www.law.umkc.edu/faculty/projects/ftrials/dakota/taopi.html |
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Post by mdenney on Feb 13, 2007 16:42:45 GMT -5
Little Crow Braves, you are like little children; you know not what you are doing. You are full of the white man's devil-water (rum). You are like dogs in the Hot Moon when they run mad and snap at their own shadows. We are only little herds of buffaloes left scattered; the great herds that once covered the prairies are no more. See! --the white men are like the locusts when they fly so thick that the whole sky is a snowstorm. You may kill one -- two -- ten, and ten times ten will come to kill you. Count your fingers all day long and white men with guns in their hands will come faster than you can count. Yes; they fight among among themselves -- away off. Do you hear the thunder of their big guns? No; it would take you two moons to run down to where they are fighting, and all the way your path would be among white soldiers as thick as tamaracks in the swamps of the Ojibways. Yes; they fight among themselves, but if you strike at them they will all turn on you and devour you and your women and little chidden just as the locusts in their time fall on the trees and devour all the leaves in one day. You are fools. You cannot see the face of your chief; your eyes are full of smoke. You cannot hear his voice; your eyes are full of roaring waters. Braves, you are little children -- you are fools. You will die like the rabbits when the hungry wolves hunt them in the hard Moon (January). [Speech of Little Crow, Through Dakota Eyes] Little Crow [2] The morning after the battle of Wood Lake, Little Crow sent word to father to come, he wanted to see him. . . . The lower corner of the door was carried up and fastened back so the end of the tent was open. Little Crow sat inside just to the right of the open door. They spread a rob or blanket in the center for father to sit on. The warriors were all dressed and painted, standing outside next to their chief, all leaning on their guns. Father said, "What a fine lot of men they were." There was a silence, then father spoke "Cousin," he said (they had always called each other cousin) "I heard you wanted to see me so I have come." Little Crow answered and said, "Yes, cousin, I am going to grant it to you." Father answered. "Yes, cousin, we are most safe now. General Sibley will be here soon, and I would like that you and your warriors would give yourselves up." Little Crow with a derisive laugh says. "Wo Pa Tun Han Ska." ["]The long merchant Sibley would like to put the rope around my neck but he won't get the chance.["] Father said, "I don't think they will hang anybody[;] they never did before." "No, cousin," he said, "anything else, but to gibe myself up to hang by the neck like a woman. If they would shoot me like a man I would, but otherwise they will never get my live body." Father then said, "if you can't do that, then I would like to get the prisoners.["] Little Crow said, "Yes, you shall have them[.]" To his warriors he said any of you that have a prisoner or anything that belongs to them give them back, and fetch them to this man. All answered "ho" (Yes). And all turned around and hurriedly left to comply with the request of the only man, as Little Crow said, they could love and respect. He had never turned a deaf ear to them. Had always been like brothers, until the outbreak. So this last favor showed how they called upon the only man they could favor in their last adieu. There is something holy and impressive to see these warriors who had for a space of five weeks, and three days spurned father's warning and advice, and at the last moment show him so much regard. Truly the works of God are indeed mysterious. Father took the names of the prisoners as fast as they were brought to him. There were 107 he got right there. When he started with them to the Friendly camp, they trotted after him with great bundles tied up in the white sheets and table clothes [cloths] so heavy they would drop them to the ground, then to fling them back over their shoulders. I[t] would swing around and drop to the ground again. Some carried little children. They asked father many questions about their folks. Father knew they would never see them again. Some might have been saved. He did not know. He hated to shatter their hopes by telling them the sad facts. He gradually distanced them to keep the truth from the awhile longer. He would not be the first to tell them. There might be a shadow of doubt their lives were lost. There were [was] no hope of seeing their loved ones again. [Cecilia Stay's Account, Through Dakota Eyes link below- www.law.umkc.edu/faculty/projects/ftrials/dakota/LittleCrow.html |
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Post by mdenney on Feb 18, 2007 14:24:22 GMT -5
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Post by mdenney on Feb 18, 2007 14:31:43 GMT -5
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Post by mdenney on Feb 18, 2007 14:33:48 GMT -5
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Post by mdenney on Feb 18, 2007 14:43:08 GMT -5
GOODTEACHER, James: GOODTEACHER, Julia: GOODTEACHER, Nancy: GRAHAM ... STORIES OF EARLY INDIAN SETTLERS. NANCY FARIBAULT HUGGINS: Nancy ... later married Charles Huggins, a trader from North Dakota. www.flandreau.k12.sd.us/.../Web Html/Santee_htm/1878_indian_homesteaders.htm- Cached -More from South Dakota 1878 Indian Homesteaders [new window][preview][close preview] GOODTEACHER, James: GOODTEACHER, Julia: GOODTEACHER, Nancy: GRAHAM ... STORIES OF EARLY INDIAN SETTLERS. NANCY FARIBAULT HUGGINS: Nancy ... later married Charles Huggins, a trader from North Dakota. www.flandreau.k12.sd.us/.../Web Html/Santee_htm/1878_indian_homesteaders.htm- Cached -More from South Dakota link below- www.flandreau.k12.sd.us/eldersspeak/Web%20Html/Santee_htm/1878_indian_homesteaders.htm |
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Post by mdenney on Feb 18, 2007 17:46:31 GMT -5
I-aw-bense picture link -http://www.rootsweb.com/~mimacki2/NativeAmericans/obj856pg1geo42p13.png There seems to have been several chiefs or lesser chiefs by the name of I-aw-bense or forms of the name. It is not certain which I-aw-bense is pictured here. The genealogy that we have been able to compile with the records we found is the I-aw-bense who was the "lesser chief" located at Saulte Ste. Marie, Mi. His daughter, Susanna married Jean Isaac Levake who was most likely the brother to Henry Lavake. Susan's family lived in the Naubinway and Moran Twp. area. It is said that her father was also known as Gitchie-Aibense. link below- www.rootsweb.com/~mimacki2/Iawbense.html |
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??win Susan Goodteacher wife f 31 . ...