Madison County, Indiana - Chapter 60, 1897

Chapter 60

As has been stated in other parts of this work, the ground upon which Anderson stands was at one time an abiding place for the Indians. The tribes who are known to have dwelt in Madison county at one time were the Delawares and the Pottawattamies. The headquarters for the Delawares was for a long time at "Anderson's Town,"' and as such it was known from the earliest pioneer history.

"It may at present be an unknown fact, yet it is an interesting one to state that the first suit at law in yVnderson was heard in a cabin or lodge which had been occupied by Chief Anderson. At the time Anderson lived here there was another chief of the name of Green, in whose honor the stream of water that meanders through the western part of the town was named ' Green's Branch.' This is all that is left to perpetuate his memory. His wigwam stood on the grounds in the immediate vicinity of the present home of the Hon. James W. Sansberry, at the west end of Tenth street.

" This ciiief, so it is stated by the old settlers, was the worshipper of an idol. It bore a great resemblance to a human countenance, and ^vas carved in a large slab of wood and elevated to a distance of twelve or fifteen feet above the ground. It was known to have been used for such purposes for years before the people located here. Judge John Davis secured this idol as a relic and placed it in a room in the old court house, from which it was afterwards stolen.

"It is said that prisoners taken by this tribe in times of war were brought before this chief for trial, and were forced to run the gauntlet, and traces of the same could be very easily observed by the early settlers near Green's wigwam.

"Another chief was Killbuck, who is said to have been a Delaware. His lodge was on the north side of Killbuck creek. He is spoken of as a wise chief and one friendlj' to the whites. His remains occupy an unknown site in the woods north of the dam across Killbuck creek, on the Sparks farm.

" Nanticoke was the name of a chief whose village was located on the south bank of White river, on the present farm of Robert Gather, about four miles west of Anderson.

" ' White Eyes ' was another chief, whose lodge stood near the present site of the poor farm. All information in regard to him is very vague, and but little is known of him or his tribe.

An Idol Worshiped By Chief Green

desperate battles \\ ith the whites during the last century. At Fort Recovery, Ohio, in an engagement which resulted so disastrously to the whites, under General St. Clair, the Delawares bore a prominent part.

" Fronting the beautiful eminence upon the north bank of White river, some eight miles west of Anderson, is an old Indian burying ground which occupies nearly an acre, and from the depressions in the' ground it is surmised that one hundred or more Indians are buried there. This ground is a part of the farm of Ale.xander McClintock. No excavations Jiavc been made on it, and should the privilege ever be granted

" A peculiar looking pipe weighing about a half pound was found upon a grave in this ground sometime since which was donated to the Madison County Historical Societ}-.

" Upon the farm of Matthias Hughel, some two miles east of Anderson, upon a high point overlooking the country for a distance of two or tliree miles to the south, is the site of the village of Moravian Indians, mention of which is made else- The evidence of the location of their lodges and wigwams were very easily traced with the advent of the white settlers into this region. When the excavations were made for the earthwork of the Anderson Hydraulic in 1870, the workmen exhumed a great number of skeletons which were believed to have belonged to the Moravian Indians.

" A tradition existed for manv years among the early settlers that both lead and salt abounded in some of the valleys and hills in the vicinity of Anderson, and to some extent this belief prevails at the present day. The Indians appeared to obtain them easily, and upon short notice, but steadily kept the secret to themselves. If lead wasfoundat all, it is thought its place was among the hills along White river, to the northwest of Anderson.

'- The farm of Harrison Canaday, two miles north of Anderson, was in early times a favorite spot with the Indians for hunting deer. The early settlers thought that a salt well dug bj' the Indians existed near Killbuck creek by means of which the deer were induced to come to that place; but if that was really so, the Indians carefully guarded their secret and never revealed it to the white man."'

The descendants of the Madison county Delawares are now said to be found in the Indian territory. The above account of our early Indian history is taken from a paper by Fleming T. Luse of the Madison Coimty Historical Society.

The following beautiful story was written by Miss Nellie Lovett, the accomplished daughter of the Hon. John ^V'. I^ovett, now the wife of Earle Reeve, of Anderson, and is reproducetl in these pages bv special permission of the writer : its borders what is now the prosperous and populous State. It had never been subdivided by tlie surveyor's lines, and, with the exception of a few rude settlements of hardy pioneers and trading posts along the principal streams, it was inhabited only by the untutored children of the forest, members of the several tribes of the " Great AlgonquinNation," of which the Delaware formed a conspicuous part. It was a country beautiful to look upon, and lay just as the hand of nature had left it. There was no monotonous stretch of level prairie to weary the eye, but hill and valley, undulating upland and fertile river bottoms made up an ever changing landscape that was beautiful to behold, always pleasing and diversified. Near the center of the great territory in a bend of the river, then known in the Indian tongue as " Watseca,"" or White river, was the ruled over and governed by that noble chieftain, Kik-the-wenund," or Anderson. At the time our story opens Anderson was a splendid specimen of the Indian race. In the very prime of life, standing six feet in his moccasins, straight as an arrow, of powerful frame and dignified bearing, he seemed a born leader of men, worthy to wave the scepter of authority over the important tribe to wliich he belonged. He had listened to the Moravian missionarv, had heard the wonderful storj' of the cross, and ever since he had been a steadfast friend of the whites. The hardy hunter, trapper or trader, courageous enough to penetrate the unbroken forest and reach his village, was sure of a welcome at his wigwam. The forests abounded in game of everv variety known to the zone. The river teemed with the best of the finny tribe, and in the fertile bottoms grew, in lu.xuriant abundance, the fields of Indian maize.

Thus in peace and plenty dwelt Anderson and his tribe, keeping inviolate the earlv treaties with the pale face race. Years before the chieftain's squaw had lieen stricken by the fatal fever, and had been called by the Great Spirit to the happy hunting grounds, leaving to Anderson a little daughter, " Oneahye, or Dancing Feather." She had grown to early womanhood, the pet of the tribe, tall and lithe of figure, swift of foot as the red deer, yet gentle and loving of disposition; this Indian maiden graced iier father's wigwam, as the and neighboring tribes, the Miamis and Pottawattamies, paid tribute to her beauty, and cast the trophies of the chase at her feet ; but thus far her heart remained untouched and her fancy as free as the breeze tliat sported in the tree tops, or the wild birds that were her daily companions. But one day there came to the village a stalwart young hunter of the pale-face race. Brave and fearless, the wild life of the woods and prairies had a charm for Charlej- vStanley that had won him from the haunts of civilized life and had caused him to seek as his companions the dusky, untutored children of the forest. He was accorded a warm welcome at the chieftain's - wigwam, and at her father's bidding " Oneahye "' spread for him, under the shade of the old oak, a mat of soft and fragrant rushes, woven by her own deft fingers. To the young and susceptible hunter, this Indian princess was a vision of loveliness. He had never seen a form so graceful, or a face so expressive. The days glided by, and still he tarried, the guest of tlie tribe. By day the hunter and maiden wandered through leafy bowers, and at evening under silvery moonbeams, or the silent stars, the two floated on the bosom of the river in the light birch canoe. It was the old, old story; and when the beautiful Indian summer came and cast its mellow haze over hill and. valley, the two were made one after the Indian custom, and thus another tie was formed to bind " Chief Anderson " to the whites.

The years grew green and grew brown; the moons waxed and waned, and time rolled on. The splendid country had attracted widespread attention, and each jear saw new settlements of the ever restless Anglo-Saxons; saw the hand of civilization leaving its mark on the face of nature, and writing the doom of the red children whose heritage was coveted by the superior race. Already a trading station had been located at the village of the Delawares, and the log-cabin of the pioneer stood within arrow shot of the wigwam of the " Aboriginal." Anderson recognized the hand of fate; saw the writing on the wall, and knew that the red man must soon move toward the setting sun. With the other chieftains of the Algoniiuiu nation he signed tiie treaty of St. iSIarj-s, in 1818, ceding to the United States the remaining interests of the Delawares in the splendid Indian territor)-, whereby it was agreed that within three j'ears from the signing of the same, his tribe would leave its ancestral territory*, removing to a reservation west of the Mississippi. In accordance with the stipulations of the treaty, the 20th day of September, 1821, saw the exodus of the Delawares from the lands of their fathers.

The day was a beautiful one. The woodlands were robed in gorgeous hues of the Frost King and were Hying the flaming banners of autumn. Fifty canoes floated on the river, while a herd of ]5onies and pack horses, bearing the camp equipage of the tribe, stood ready for the journey.

The young braves and squaws were to go overland, while the chiefs and aged members of the band were to travel by water. The white residents turned out to witness their departure, and there were many touching scenes at the parting. Charles Stanley and Oneahye, his Indian wife, had decided to remain at the settlement. At a given signal the canoes were Hlled with their burden of swarthy beings, and the cavalcade took up its line of march. Anderson was the last to move. When all was in readiness he laid his hand on the head of his daughter. A hush fell upon the assembled multitude as he spoke in the expressive and figurative language of the Delawares a father's parting blessing and benediction. The eagle feather in his plume quivered slightly, but bej'ond this there was no outward sign of the deep feeling that stirred the bosom of the noble chief. This simple ceremony over, he stepped into the canoe and stood erect, while the fleet, responsive to the strokes of the paddles, shot out into the current, and thus the long and tedious journey to the new hunting grounds, was commenced. The people on the river bank stood silently watching the departing canoes until a bend in the river hid them from view.

Twenty years had passed since the departure of the Delawares. Hard years they had been on the tribe. Pestilence and war, disease and death had played sad havoc, and but few remained of that goodly band of warriors. Anderson still lived, but broken by age, hardships and disappointments, he felt the future had little in store for him, and his thoughts continually turned back to the days of his early manhood, and a longing, unconquerable desire to see once again with his own eyes his dearlj' loved daughter, and revisit the old scenes, filled his heart.

Gathering about him a few trusty companions, he turned his face eastward, and by easy stages and frequent rests he made the journey. Charles Stanley had built for himself and familj- a log cabin, somewhat more pretentious than most of his neighbors, and here the old chieftain received a warm and tender welcome ; but the days of rest and enjoyment, which he had anticipated, were not to be. The fever was raging in his veins and pain racked his frame. On the evening after liis arrival he became delirious, and from his incoherent words it could easily be told he was living over again the old. old days. At times he was engaged in counsel with the neighboring Sachems. Again, he gave the directions for the journey westward, and then he seemed to imagine himself in tlie old wigwam, and gently stroked the hair of his little granddaughter as he had her mother's many years before. On the third day he died and was sorrowfully laid to rest under the spreading branches of an old oak not far from the cabin where he died. Fifty years have passed. Where the village of the Delaware stood stands a vigorous growing young citv, just feeling the impulse of new life, caused b\' the wonderful discovery of natural gas. On every hand are evidences of rapid growth and substantial prosperity. The place where the old oak stood abutts on one of the leading thoroughfares, is marked for a splendid hostelry, and the work of its construction has commenced. In excavating for the basement and cellars of the building the workmen came upon a human skeleton. It was the remains of " Anderson," the Delaware. Bj- direction of the owners the skeleton was buried in the crypt of the building, where it now rests. Over it was erected the noble structure, and it was eminently right and proper that in honor of the noble chieftain the hotel should be called " The Anderson."

It is said that on the night of the 21st day of .September, 1891, the seventieth anniversary of the exodus of the Delaware, just as the clock in the tower of the court house struck the hour of midnight, the ghostly form of an Indian, clad in the full habiliments of a Delaware chieftain, might have been seen standing erect on the highest crest of the unfinished building, with folded arms, looking towards the east, just as the chieftain had stood on the morning of his departure, seventy years before. It remained thus for a moment and faded out in a cloud of mist.