GOVERNOR RAMSEY AND HOLE-IN-THE-DAY.
Alexander Ramsey, of Minnesota, is the last of the famous coterie of war
governors; a band that will be immortal. Curtin, of Pennsylvania; Dix, of
New York; Dennison, of Ohio; Morton, of Indiana; Randall, of Wisconsin;
Yates, of Illinois; Blair, of Michigan; Andrew, of Massachusetts; and
Kirkwood, of Iowa;--a notable group, stalwart, rugged patriots with
hearts beating as one. Comprehending the danger that menaced the nation,
confronted with no easy task, these grand old stalwarts pledged their
states to uphold, with men and money, the general government. They
have passed away honored by a grateful country and beloved by the men
who responded to their call. Governor Ramsey alone remains, and in the
National Grand Army encampment held in St. Paul in 1896 he was a central
figure. Passed, as he has, beyond the allotted time of man, measure full
and running over, he saw the salvation of his country, proud of the
part Minnesota's sons took in its restoration, and proud to meet them
after the smoke of battle had cleared away. Governor Ramsey, being in
Washington at the time of the first call for troops, promptly responded
in person to the President, and tendered a regiment from Minnesota, and
it was accepted; and it was the first to be accepted. He immediately
telegraphed to Adjutant General William Henry Acker to at once issue a
call for one regiment of three months men.
[Illustration: HOLE-IN-THE-DAY.]
The companies were soon filled up, and Adjutant-General Acker was
commissioned as captain of Company "C." He was afterwards commissioned as
captain in the Sixteenth U. S. Infantry, and was killed at Shiloh.
Governor Ramsey was elected United States Senator from Minnesota, and
served his state faithfully and well, and was at one time Secretary
of War. At this writing he is hale and hearty, honored by men of all
political faith.
Governor Ramsey's part in the Indian trouble was more than commissioning
officers and sending men to the frontier.
The Chippewas were in a turbulent state of mind, and Hole-in-the-Day,
their chief, did not seem inclined to soften their feelings to the
Government, but rather encouraged them in their desire to break their
compact. He said to his people that "we had all we could manage, with our
brethren in the South, and if they pleased to combine with the Sioux,
their power could not be resisted."
This surely was cause for alarm,--alarm for the safety of the state, and
it required strong measures to curb this uprising among these Indians.
Commissioner Dole lost hope of successfully meeting the demands of the
Indians, and dispatched a messenger to Governor Ramsey asking him to
hasten to his relief. The Governor lost no time, and with two or three
others were soon on the way. He did not go with an army carrying banners,
but quietly and unostentatiously met the Chippewa chiefs, and soon
adjusted all difficulties.
When it became known to Hole-in-the-Day that General Sibley had an
overwhelming force, he was then desirous to befriend the state and assist
in making a treaty of perpetual friendship with the whites, and assist
them in fighting Little Crow. And after the battle of Wood Lake the
Winnebagoes, who were inclined to go to war against the "pale faces,"
concluded it best to court his favor and proclaim war against the Sioux.
Prior to this, all the tribes in Wisconsin had sent their "wampums" to
the Winnebago chief, and a council of war had been fixed for the 28th
of September. There seemed to be indications that an unfriendly white
element was stirring up strife among all our Indian neighbors, and hence
the impression that it was emissaries from the South who were doing it.
It came from high authority that evidence existed to show that "the
Western tribes are going to join the South." It was a critical moment
for this country. Slavery existed yet, and God's hand was laying heavily
upon us. Federal reverses and Confederate successes cast a gloom over the
North, and loyal men trembled, while the copper-head came forth and, with
an exultant hiss, impeded the progress of the Government in its efforts
to bring about an honorable peace. Under these depressing conditions
Governor Ramsey, to whom all looked with so much solicitude, nerved
himself to bring about an amicable settlement with the Chippewas.
In three days from the time of departure, Governor Ramsey returned,
having effected a settlement of all misunderstandings on September 15th,
1862.
The public mind was relieved, for nearly every chief of the Nation being
present to sign this treaty of peace, all hostile demonstrations ceased,
and they evinced their further friendship by coming to St. Paul to return
Governor Ramsey's visit, and tender their services to General Pope to
operate against the Sioux.
The Governor assured them he was pleased to know they had not stained
their hands in innocent blood, as the Sioux had done;--that he would
communicate their desire to join the white soldiers to the big chief,
General Pope, and he would send for them. The talk they had with the
Governor so pleased them that they became confidential and talkative.
Their responses thus far had been grunts and "ho, hos," but Chief Berry
Hunter said the words they listened to "went right into his ears, and
they were good," and although he was an old man he had not lost his
reason. That they had come down to show their white brothers they felt
very friendly, and never desired to have any other feeling towards them.
Big Dog, another of their noted chiefs, whose hands were very red, said
he had painted them purposely, so that if he should kill an enemy and
blood got on his hands it would not stain them.
Governor Ramsey extended them an invitation to ride in the "fire wagon"
to St. Anthony (now East Minneapolis).
This meant that he would take them on the train. Railroading in Minnesota
at this time was new to the white people, and the beautiful engines
were objects of delight and admiration to them, and more so to the
Indians, who were much interested in everything they saw in and about the
locomotive, and they expressed great wonder at the steam whistle, and
invariably ducked their heads as its shrill notes broke upon their ears.
They did not wish to appear as cowards, but, like white soldiers dodging
bullets after they had passed, so they inadvertently would "duck" when
the whistle blew, and afterward have a hearty laugh over it.