county-seat to be moved there. In the winter of 1858 a crowd of De Soto
citizens organized and with arms went to Fort Calhoun to take the
county-seat by force. Fort Calhoun citizens barricaded themselves in the
log courthouse and held off the De Soto band until the afternoon of the
second day, when by compromise, the county-seat was turned over to De
Soto. One man was killed in this contest, in which I was a participant.
The county-seat remained in De Soto until an election in the fall of
1866 when the vote of the people relocated it at Fort Calhoun, where it
remained until 1869. An election in the latter year made Blair the
county-seat.
A courthouse was built in Blair, the present county-seat of Washington
county, in 1889, at a cost of $50,000.
NOTE--In the early days every new town, and they were all new, was
ambitious to become the county-seat and many of them hopefully
sought the honor of becoming the capital of the territory.
Washington county had its full share of aspiring towns and most of
them really got beyond the paper stage. There were De Soto, Fort
Calhoun, Rockport, Cuming City, and last but not least--Fontenelle,
then in Washington county, now a "deserted village" in Dodge
county. Of these only Fort Calhoun remains more than a memory. De
Soto was founded by Potter C. Sullivan and others in 1854, and in
1857 had about five hundred population. It began to go down in
1859, and when the city of Blair was started its decline was rapid.
Rockport, which was in the vicinity of the fur trading
establishments of early days, was a steamboat landing of some
importance and had at one time a population of half a hundred or
more. Now only the beautiful landscape remains. Cuming City, like
De Soto, received its death blow when Blair was founded, and now
the townsite is given over to agricultural purposes.
THE STORY OF THE TOWN OF FONTENELLE
BY MRS. EDA MEAD
When Nebraska was first organized as a territory, a party of people in
Quincy, Illinois, conceived the idea of starting a city in the new
territory and thus making their fortune. They accordingly sent out a
party of men to select a site.
These men reached Omaha in 1854. There they met Logan Fontenelle, chief
of the Omahas, who held the land along the Platte and Elkhorn rivers. He
agreed to direct them to a place favorable for a town. Upon reaching the
spot, where the present village is now situated, they were so pleased
that they did not look farther, but paid the chief one hundred dollars
for the right to claim and locate twenty square miles of land. This
consisted of land adjoining the Elkhorn river, then ascending a high
bluff, a tableland ideal for the location of the town.
These men thought the Elkhorn was navigable and that they could ship
their goods from Quincy by way of the Missouri, Platte, and Elkhorn
rivers.
Early in the spring of 1855 a number of the colonists, bringing their
household goods, left Quincy on a small boat, the "Mary Cole," expecting
to reach Fontenelle by way of the Elkhorn; and then use the boat as a
packet to points on the Platte and Elkhorn rivers.
But the boat struck a snag in the Missouri and, with a part of the
cargo, was lost. The colonists then took what was saved overland to
Fontenelle.
By the first of May, 1855, there were sufficient colonists on the site
to hold the claims. Then each of the fifty members drew by lot for the
eighteen lots each one was to hold. The first choice fell to W. H.
Davis. He chose the land along the river, fully convinced of its
superior situation as a steamboat landing.
The colonists then built houses of cottonwood timber, and a store and
hotel were started. Thus the little town of about two hundred
inhabitants was started with great hopes of soon becoming a large city.
Land on the edge of the bluff had been set aside for a college building.
This was called Collegeview. Here a building was begun in 1856 and
completed in 1859. This was the first advanced educational institution
to be chartered west of the Missouri river.
In 1865 this building was burned. Another building was immediately
erected, but after a few years' struggle for patronage, they found it
was doomed to die, so negotiated with the people of Crete, Nebraska, and
the Congregational organizations (for it was built by the
Congregationalists) in Nebraska. It therefore became the nucleus of what
is now Doane College.
The bell of the old building is still in use in the little village.
The first religious services were held by the Congregationalists. The
church was first organized by Rev. Reuben Gaylord, who also organized
the First Congregational church in Omaha.
In Fontenelle the Congregationalists did not have a building but
worshiped in the college. This church has long since ceased to exist,
but strange as it may seem after so many years, the last regular pastor
was the same man, Rev. Reuben Gaylord, who organized it.
There was a little band of fifteen Methodists; this was called the
Fontenelle Mission. In 1857 an evangelist, Jerome Spillman, was sent to
take charge of this little mission. He soon had a membership of about
three score people. A church was organized and a building and parsonage
completed. This prospered with the town, but as the village began to
lose ground the church was doomed to die. The building stood vacant for
a number of years but was finally moved to Arlington.
The settlers found the first winter of 1855-56 mild and agreeable. They
thought that this was a sample of the regular winter climate; so when
the cold, blizzardy, deep-snow winter of 1856-57 came it found the
majority ill prepared. Many were living in log cabins which had been
built only for temporary use. The roofs were full of holes and just the
dirt for floors.
On awaking in the morning after the first blizzard many found their
homes drifted full of snow; even the beds were covered. The snow lay
four or five feet deep on the level and the temperature was far below
zero.
Most of the settlers lost all of their stock. Food was scarce, but wild
game was plentiful. Mr. Sam Francis would take his horse and gun and
hunt along the river. The settlers say he might be seen many times that
winter coming into the village with two deer tied to his horse's tail
trailing in the snow. By this means, he saved many of the colonists from
starvation.
Provisions were very high priced. Potatoes brought four and five dollars
a bushel; bacon and pork could not be had at any price. One settler is
said to have sold a small hog for forty-five dollars; with this he
bought eighty acres of land, which is today worth almost one hundred
eighty dollars an acre.
A sack of flour cost from ten to fifteen dollars.
At this time many who had come just for speculation left, thus only the
homebuilders or those who had spent their all and could not return,
remained.
Then came trouble with the Indians. In the year 1859 the Pawnees were
not paid by the government, for some reason. They became desperate and
began stealing cattle from the settlers along the Elkhorn around
Fontenelle. The settlers of Fontenelle formed a company known as the
"Fontenelle Mounted Rangers," and together with a company sent out by
Governor Black from Omaha with one piece of light artillery, started
after the Pawnees who were traveling west and north.
They captured six prisoners and held them bound. While they were camped
for rest, a squaw in some way gave a knife to one of the prisoners. He
pretended to kill himself by cutting his breast and mouth so that he
bled freely. He then dropped as if dead. Amidst the confusion the other
five, whose ropes had been cut, supposedly by this same squaw, escaped.
As the settlers were breaking camp to still pursue the fleeing tribe,
they wondered what to do with the dead Indian. Someone expressed doubt
as to his really being dead. Then one of the settlers raised his gun and
said he would soon make sure. No sooner had the gun been aimed than the
Indian jumped to his feet and said, "Whoof! Me no sick!" They then
journeyed on to attack the main tribe. When near their camp the settlers
formed a semi-circle on a hill, with the artillery in the center.
As soon as the Indians saw the settlers, they came riding as swiftly as
possible to make an attack, but when within a short distance and before
the leader of the settlers could call "Fire!" they retreated. They
advanced and retreated in this way three times. The settlers were at a
loss to understand just what the Indians intended to do; but decided
that they did not know of the artillery until near enough to see it,
then were afraid to make the attack, so tried to scare the settlers, but
failing to do this they finally advanced with a white rag tied to a
stick.
The Indians agreed to be peaceable and stop the thieving if the settlers
would pay for a pony which had been accidentally killed, and give them
medicine for the sick and wounded.
Some of the men who took part in this fight say that if the leader had
ordered the settlers to fire on the first advance of the Indians every
settler would have been killed. There were twice as many Indians in the
first place and the settlers afterwards found that not more than
one-third of their guns would work; and after they had fired once, while
they were reloading, the Indians with their bows and arrows would have
exterminated them. They consider it was the one piece of light artillery
that saved them, as the Indians were very much afraid of a cannon. This
ended any serious Indian trouble, but the housewives had to be ever on
the alert for many years.
Each spring either the Omahas or Pawnees passed through the village on
their way to visit some other tribe, and then returned in the fall. Then
through the winter stray bands would appear who had been hunting or
fishing along the river.
As they were seen approaching everything that could be was put under
lock, and the doors of the houses were securely fastened. The Indians
would wash and comb their hair at the water troughs, then gather
everything about the yard that took their fancy. If by any chance they
got into a house they would help themselves to eatables and if they
could not find enough they would demand more. They made a queer
procession as they passed along the street. The bucks on the horses or
ponies led the way, then would follow the pack ponies, with long poles
fastened to each side and trailing along behind loaded with the baggage,
then came the squaws, with their babies fastened to their backs,
trudging along behind.
One early settler tells of her first experience with the Indians. She
had just come from the far East, and was all alone in the house, when
the door opened and three Indians entered, a buck and two squaws. They
closed the door and placed their guns behind it, to show her that they
would not harm her. They then went to the stove and seated themselves,
making signs to her that they wanted more fire. She made a very hot
fire in the cook stove.
The old fellow examined the stove until he found the oven door; this he
opened and took three frozen fish from under his blanket and placed them
upon the grate. While the fish were cooking, he made signs for something
to eat. The lady said she only had bread and sorghum in the house. This
she gave them, but the Indian was not satisfied; he made a fuss until
she finally found that he wanted butter on his bread. She had to show
him that the sorghum was all she had. They then took up the fish and
went out of doors by the side of the house to eat it. After they were
gone she went out to see what they had left. She said they must have
eaten every bit of the fish except the hard bone in the head, that was
all that was left and that was picked clean.
Among the first settlers who came in 1855 was a young German who was an
orphan and had had a hard life in America up to this time.
He took a claim and worked hard for a few years. He then went back to
Quincy and persuaded a number of his own countrymen to come out to this
new place and take claims, he helping them out, but they were to pay him
back as they could.
Years passed; they each and all became very prosperous. But this first
pioneer prospered perhaps to the greatest degree. The early settlers
moved away one by one; as they left he would buy their homes.
The houses were torn down or moved away, the trees and shrubs were
uprooted, until now this one man, or his heirs--for he has gone to his
reward--owns almost the whole of the once prosperous little village, and
vast fields of grain have taken the place of the homes and streets.
It is hard to stand in the streets of the little village which now has
about one hundred fifty inhabitants and believe that at one time it was
the county-seat of Dodge county, and that it lacked only one vote of
becoming the capital of the state. There are left only two or three of
the first buildings. A short distance south of this village on a high
bluff overlooking the river valley, and covered with oaks and
evergreens, these early pioneers started a city which has grown for many
years, and which will continue to grow for years to come. In this city
of the dead we find many of the people who did much for the little
village which failed, but who have taken up their abode in this
beautiful spot, there to remain until the end of time.
This story of Fontenelle has been gathered from my early recollections
of the place and what I have learned through grandparents, parents, and
other relatives and friends.
My mother was raised in Fontenelle, coming there with her parents in
1856. She received her education in that first college.
My father was the son of one of the first Congregational missionaries to
be sent there. I received my first schooling in the little village
school.
[Illustration: MRS. WARREN PERRY
Eleventh State Regent, Nebraska Society, Daughters of the American
Revolution. 1913-1914]
THOMAS WILKINSON AND FAMILY
Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Wilkinson, early Nebraska settlers, were of English
birth, and came to America when very young. They met in Illinois and
were married in 1859 at Barrington. They moved to Louisiana, remaining
there until the outbreak of the civil war, when they returned to
Illinois for a short time, and then emigrated to the West, traveling in
a covered wagon and crossing the Missouri river on the ferry. They
passed through Omaha, and arrived at Elk City, Nebraska, July 27, 1864,
with their two children, Ida and Emma, who at the present time are
married and live in Omaha.
Soon after arriving in Elk City, Mr. Wilkinson lost one of his horses,
which at that time was a great misfortune. He purchased another from the
United States government, which they called "Sam" and which remained in
the family for many years.
At one time provisions were so high Mr. Wilkinson traded his watch for a
bushel of potatoes.
At that time land was very cheap and could be bought for from two to
five dollars per acre. The same land is now being held at two hundred
dollars per acre. Labor was scarce, with the exception of that which
could be obtained from the Indians. There were a large number of Indians
in that part of the country, and the settlers often hired the squaws to
shuck corn and cut firewood.
Mrs. Wilkinson has often told of the Indians coming to her door and
demanding corn meal or beef. They always wanted beef and would not
accept pork. They would come at night, look in at the windows, and call
for firewater, tobacco, and provisions. Their visits were so frequent
that Mrs. Wilkinson soon mastered much of their language and was able to
talk to them in their own tongue.
Mr. and Mrs. Wilkinson first settled about twenty-five miles from Omaha
on the old military road. During the early days of their life there,
Mrs. Wilkinson made large quantities of butter for regular customers in
Omaha. They often arose at three o'clock, hitched up the lumber wagon,
and started for town, there to dispose of her butter and eggs and return
with a supply of provisions.
As a rule the winters were extremely severe and Mrs. Wilkinson has often
told of the terrible snow storms which would fill the chimneys so full
of snow it would be impossible to start a fire, and she would have to
bundle the children up in the bedclothes and take them to the nearest
house to keep from freezing.
During their second year in Nebraska they went farther west and located
at "Timberville," which is now known as Ames. There they kept a "ranch
house" and often one hundred teams arrived at one time to remain over
night. They would turn their wagons into an immense corral, build their
camp fires, and rest their stock. These were the "freighters" of the
early days, and generally got their own meals.
During their residence at Elk City, two more children were born, Nettie
and Will.
They continued to live on the farm until the year 1887, when they moved
to Blair, Nebraska, there to rest in their old age.
Mr. Wilkinson died July 18, 1912. He is survived by his wife, Mrs. Lucy
Wilkinson, a son, Wm. W. Wilkinson, and two daughters, Mrs. J. Fred
Smith and Mrs. Herman Shields. Mrs. George B. Dyball, another daughter,
died May 13, 1914.
NIKUMI
BY MRS. HARRIET S. MACMURPHY
He glanced from the letter in his hand to the Indian woman sitting in
the door of the skin tipi, and the papoose on the ground beside her,
then down the river, his eyes moving on, like the waters, and seeing
some vision of his brain, far distant. After a time his gaze came back
and rested upon the woman and her babe again.
"If I could take the child," he murmured.
The squaw watched him furtively while she drew the deer sinew through
the pieces of skin from which she was fashioning a moccasin. She
understood, although spoken in English, the words he was scarce
conscious of uttering, and, startled out of her Indian instinct of
assumed inattention, looked at him with wide-opened eyes, trying to
fathom a matter hardly comprehended but of great moment to her.
"Take the child"--where, and for what? Was he going to leave and sail
down the great river to the St. Louis whence came all traders and the
soldiers on the boats? Going away again as he had come to her many
seasons ago? "Take the child," her child and his? Her mouth closed
firmly, her eyes darkened and narrowed, as she stooped suddenly and
lifted the child to her lap; and the Indian mother's cunning and
watchfulness were aroused and pitted against the white father's love of
his child.
Fort Atkinson was the most western post of the line established by
President Monroe in 1819, after the Louisiana Purchase, to maintain the
authority of the United States against Indian turbulence and British
aggression, and had been in existence about four years before our story
opens.
Here had been stationed the Sixth U. S. Infantry, who had wearily
tramped for two months the banks of the Missouri river and dragged their
boats after them, a distance of nearly a thousand miles of river travel
to reach this post in the wilderness. Not a white man then occupied what
is now the state of Iowa, except Julien Dubuque and a score or so of
French traders. Not a road was to be found nor a vehicle to traverse
it. But one or two boats other than keel boats and barges had ever
overcome the swift current of the great Missouri thus far.
The Santa Fe trail, that wound over the hills west of the fort,
connected them with the Mexican Spanish civilization of the Southwest,
and the great rivers with their unsettled land far away on the Atlantic
seaboard.
Seventy-five years ago these soldiers dropped the ropes with which they
had dragged the barges and keel boats and themselves thither, and
picking up spade and shovel, dug foundations, molded and burned brick,
cut down trees, and built barracks for themselves and the three
detachments of artillery who terrified the redmen with the mysterious
shells which dropped down amongst them and burst in such a frightful
manner.
They numbered about twelve hundred men, and the bricks they molded and
the cellars they dug still remain to tell of the Fort Atkinson that was,
beside whose ruins now stands the little village of Fort Calhoun,
sixteen miles north of Omaha on the Missouri river.
Dr. Gale, whom we have thus seen considering a question of great
importance both to himself and to the Indian woman with whom he seems to
have some relation, was the surgeon of the Sixth Infantry, an
Englishman, short, thick-set, and evidently of good birth, although the
marks of his rough life and rather dissolute habits obscured it in some
degree.
The point where Fort Atkinson was built was the noted "Council Bluff" at
which Lewis and Clark held the Indian council famous in the first annals
of western explorations, and it still remains a rendezvous for the
various tribes of Indians, the "Otoes, Pawnees, 'Mahas, Ayeaways, and
Sioux," attracted thither by the soldiers and the trading posts, and
secure from each others' attacks on this neutral ground.
Shortly after the troops were located here an Ayeaway (Iowa) chief and
his band pitched their tents near the fort. The daughter of this chief
was named Nikumi; she was young and had not been inured to the hard
tasks which usually fell to the squaws, so her figure was straight, her
eyes bright, and her manner showed somewhat the dignity of her position.
Not a white woman was there within a radius of five hundred miles except
a few married ones belonging to the fort; was it strange that Dr. Gale,
the younger son of an English family who had left civilization for a
life of adventure in the New World, and who seemed destined to dwell
away from all women of his own race, should woo this Indian princess and
make her his wife? He had chosen the best of her race, for all who
remember her in after years speak of her dignified carriage, her
well-formed profile, and her strength of will and purpose, so remarkable
among Indian women.
For four years she had been his wife, and the child she had just seized
and held in her arms as if she would never let her go, was their child,
little Mary, as her father named her, perhaps from his own name, Marion.
But now this union, which her unknowing mind had never surmised might
not be for all time, and his, alas, too knowing one had carelessly
assumed while it should be his pleasure, was about to be severed.
A boat had come up the river and brought mail from Chariton or La
Charette, as the Frenchmen originally named it, several hundred miles
below, and the point to which mail for this fort was sent.
These uncertain arrivals of news from the outside world made important
epochs in the life of the past. The few papers and letters were handled
as if they had been gold, and the contents were read and reread until
almost worn out. For Dr. Gale came a bulky letter or package of letters
tied together and sealed over the string with a circle of red wax. There
was no envelope, as we have now, but each letter was written so as to
leave a blank space after folding for the superscription, and the
postage was at least twenty-five cents on the three letters so tied
together. The postmark of the outer one was New York City; it was from a
law firm and informed Dr. Marion F. Gale, surgeon of the Sixth Infantry,
stationed at Fort Atkinson, the "camp on the Missouri river," that the
accompanying letters had been received by them from a firm of London
solicitors, and begging to call his attention to the same. His attention
being most effectually called thereto elicited first that Messrs.
Shadwell & Fitch of London desired them to ascertain the whereabouts of
Marion F. Gale, late of Ipswich, England, and now supposed to be serving
in the U. S. army in the capacity of surgeon, and convey to him the
accompanying information, being still further to the effect that by a
sudden death of James Burton Gale, who died without male issue, he,
Marion F. Gale, being next of kin, was heir to the estate of Burton
Towers, Ipswich, England. Last came a letter from the widow of his
brother, telling him the particulars of his brother's death.
Ten years before he had left home with a hundred pounds in his pocket
and his profession, to make himself a career in the new country.
There were two brothers older than he, one of them married, and there
seemed little prospect that he would ever become proprietor of Burton
Towers; but they, who lived apparently in security, were gone, and he
who had traversed the riverway of an unknown and unsettled country,
among Indians and wild animals, was alive and well to take their place.