Left: Detail of the 1893 Fort Dearborn Massacre Monument by Carl Rohl-Smith.
Right: “Defense” by Henry Herring, 1928. This sculpture adorns the wall of the south western bridge tender’s house on Michigan Avenue Bridge
Chicago Tribune, June 23, 1893
In the presence of ex-President Harrison, Chief Justice Fuller of the United States Sutreme Court, and an assemblage of men and ramen foremost in Chicago’s business and society circles yesterday afternoon Miss Florence Pullman drew aside the silken folds us covered from view the Fort Dearborn massacre group, presented by her father, George M. Pullman, to the city to commemorate a tragedy that took place what is now the foot of Eighteenth street eighty-one years ago. More than a year ago Mr. Pullman decided to erect this memorial, influenced by the fact that his home stands on the battlefield. Near it, in the middle of Eighteenth street, surrounded by an iron fence, is the old, dead cottonwood tree so indissolubly associated with that brave fight and subsequent massacre. Mr. Pullman commissioned Carl Rohl-Smith to make the statue of bronze.
Simplicity marked the dedicatory exercises bharge of the Historical Society, to which ta monument is given in trust. Two hundred and and fifty people were present. Upon the balcony at the back of the house sat the speakers and some of the guests. Among them were:
The host and hostess, Mr. and Mrs. George M. Pullman, ex-President Harrison, Chief Justice Melville W. Fuller, Robert T. Lincoln, Prince Isenberg, E. S. Willard, Marshall Field, Mrs. H. O. Stone, George R. Blanchard, Darius Heald, Capr. J. C. Wyman, Judge J. D. Caton, the Rev. Dr. Clinton Locke, Mrs. MeKee, Miss Kate Field, Mrs. Sanger, Mrs. Arthur Caton, Mr. and Mrs. J. M. Clark, Mrs. Sage, Mrs. W. W. Kimball, Mr. ad Mrs. Frank Carolan, T. W. Palmer, Mr. and Mrs. E. G. Mason, Miss Florence Pullman, and Gen. and Mrs. Miles.
Every chair upon the terraces, which slope down from the palm-house, was occupied, and many women in bright summer gowns stood upthrough the speaking.
Mr. Pullman’s Letter.
E. G. Mason, President of the Historical Society, at 4 o’clock opened the exercises by reading Mr. Pullman’s letter presenting the statue. It was as follows:
- Chicago, Jane 19, 1803.—E. G. Mason, Esq., President Chicago Historical Society, Chicago,Il.-Dear Sir: The proximity to my home of the old cottonwood tree, which marks the spot in the vicinity of which occurred the massacre of the major portion of the garrison and residents at and near Fort Dearborn, Aug. 15, 1812, suggested be thought of contributing an addition to the many valuable relics belonging to your society by the erection of an enduring monument which should serve not only to perpetuate and honor the memory of the brave men and women and innocent children—the pioneer set. tars who suffered here—but should also stimulate a desire among us and those who are to come after us to know more of the struggles and sacrifices of those who laid the foundation of the greatness of this city and State. There have been fortunate in securing the services of be eminent sculptor, Mr. Carl Rohl Smith, who, after extended and careful research and investigation of the subject, has succeeded in producing a group of statuary and designs in bas relief which embody the prominent incidents and culminating scenes of the massacre. The monument is finished and located just 100 feet due east ho the “massacre tree”; and I have now the pleasure of presenting it, with appropriate deed of gift, to your society in trust for the City of Chicago and for posterity. With great respect, yours sincerely, George M. Pullman.
The Unveiling Takes Place.
Mr. Mason then said: The statue will sos be unveiled,” and Miss Florence Pullman drew aside a silk flag wound around the group. Applause greeted it, and without further delay Mr. Mason plunged into his speech. He said:
The Chicago Historical Society accepts this noble gift in trust for our high appreciation of the generosity, the public spirit, and the regard for history of the donor. It realizes that this monument so wisely planned and so superbly executed is to be preserved not simply as a splendid ornament of our city but also as a most impressive record of its history. This group, representing to the life the thrilling scene enacted perchance on the very spot on which it stands, barely eighty years ago, and its present surroundings, make most vivid the tremendous contrast between the Chicago of 1812 and the Chicago of 1893. It teaches thus the marvelous growth of our city, and it commemorates as well the trials and the sorrows of those who suffered here in the cause of civilization. The tragedy which it recalls, though it seemed to extinguish the infant settlement in blood, was in reality one which nerved men’s arms and fired their hearts to the efforts which rescued this region from the invader and the barbarian. The story which it tells is there. not deeper significance than many that have to do with.
“Battles, and the breath
“Of stormy war and violent death,” and it is one which should never be forgotten.
With its suggestions before us how readily we picture to ourselves the events of that 15th day of August in the year of grace 1812. Hardly a week before there had come through the forest and across the prairie to the lonely Fort Dearborn an Indian runner, like a clansman with the fiery cross, bearing the news of the battle and disaster. War with Great Britain had been declared in June, Mackinac had fallen into the hands of the enemy in July, and with these alarming tidings the red messenger brought an order from the commanding General at Detroit contemplating the abandonment of this frontier. Concerning the terms of his order authority have differed. Capt. Heald, who received it, speaks of it as a peremptory command to evacuate the fort. Others with good means of knowledge say that the dispatch directed him to vacate the fort if practicable. But Gen. Hull, who sent the order, settles this question in a report to the War Department which has recently come to light. Writing under date of July 29, 1812, he says:
- I shall immediately send an express to Fort Dearborn with orders to evacuate that post and retreat to this place (Detroit) or Fort Wayne, provided it can be effected with a greater prospect of safety than to remain. Capt. Heald is a judicious officer, and I shall confide much to his discretion.
The decision whether to go or stay rested therefore with Capt. Nathan Heald, and truly the responsibility was a heavy one. Signs of Indian hostility had not been wanting. But the evening before Black Partridge, a chief of the Pottawatomie tribe, long a friend of the whites, had entered the quarters of the commanding officer and handed to him the medal which the warrior wore as token of services to the American cause in the Indian campaigns of “Mad” Anthony Wayne. With dignity and the sadness the native orator said:
- Further, I come to deliver up to you the medal I wear. It was given to me by the Americans, and I have long worn it in token of our mutual friendship. But our young men are resolved to imbue their hands in the blood of the Whites. I cannot restrain them, and I will not wear a token of peace while I am compelled to act as an enemy.
This striking incident is beautifully chosen as the subject of one of the reliefs on the pedestal of the monument. It typifies the relations between the hapless whites and their red neighbors at the moment and the causes which had changed friendship into hatred, and it sounds the note of coming doom.
Capt. William Wells Arrives.
On that dreary day one gleam of light fell across the path of the perplexed commander. Capt. William Wells arrived from Fort Wayne with a small party of friendly Miami Indians to share the fortunes of the imperiled garrison. This gallant man, destined to be the chief hero and victim of the Chicago massacre, had had a most remarkable career. Of a good Kentucky family, he was stolen when a boy of 12 by the Miami Indians and adopted by their great chief, Me-che-kau-nah-qua, or Little Turtle, whose daughter became his wife. He fought on the side of the red men in their defeats of Gen. Harmar in 1790 and Gen. St. Clair in 1791. Discovered by his Kentucky kindred when he had reached years of manhood, he was persuaded to ally himself with his own race. and took formal leave of his Indian comrades, avowing henceforth his enmity to them. Joining Wayne’s army, he was made Captain of a company of scouts, and was a most faithful and valuable officer. When peace came with the treaty of Greenville in 1795, he devoted himself to obtaining an education, and succeeded so well that he was appointed Indian agent and served in that capacity at Chicago as early as 1803, and later at Fort Wayne, where he was also the government interpreter and a Justice of the Peace. Here he heard of the probable evacuation of the post at Chicago, and knowing the temper of the Indians, he gathered such force as he could and made a rapid march across the country to save or die with his friends at Fort Dearborn, among whom the wife of Capt. Heald was his own favorite niece, whose gentle influence had been most potent in winning him back from barbarism years before. It seemed almost as if he had resolved to atone for the period in which he had ignorahtly antagonized his own people by a supreme effort in their behalf against the race which had so nearly made him a savage.
March from the Fort Begins.
He came too late to effect any change in Capt. Heald’s plans. The abandonment was resolved upon, and the stores and ammunition were in part destroyed and in part divided among the Indians, who were soon to make so base a return for these gifts. At 9 o’clock on that fatal summer morning the march began from the little fort, which stood where Michigan avenue and River street now join, on a slight eminence around which the river wound to find its way to the lake near the present terminus of Madison street. The garrison bade farewell to the rude stockade and the log barracks and magazine and two corner block houses which composed the first Fort Dearborn. When this only place of safety was left behind the straggling line stretched out along the shore of the lake, Capt. Wells and a part of his Miamis in the van, half a company of regulars and a dozen militia men, and the wagons with the women and children following, and the remainder of the Miamis bringing up the rear. You may see it all on the panel on the ronument, which recalls from the past and makes very real this mournful march to death. The escort of Pottawatomies, which that treacherous tribe had glibly promised to Capt. Heald, kept abreast the troops until sand hills they reached intervening between the prairie and the lake, and here the Indians disappeared behind the ridge. The whites kept on near the water to a point a mile and a half from the fort and about where Fourteenth street now ends, when Wells in the advance was seen to turn and ride back, swinging his hat around his head in a circle, which meant in the sign language of the frontier:
- We are surrounded by Indians.
As soon as he came within hearing he shouted: “We are surrounded; march up on the sand ridges.” And all at once, in the graphic language of Mrs. Heald, they saw the Indians’ heads sticking up and down again, here and there, like turtles out of the water.”
A Volley from the Sand Hills.
Instantly a volley was showered down from the sand hills, the troops were brought into line, and charged up the bank, one man, a veteran of 70 years, falling as they ascended. Wells shouted to Heald, “Charge them!” and then led on and broke the line of the Indians, who scattered right and left. Another charge was made, in which Wells did deadly execution upon the perfidious barbarians, loading and firing two pistole and a gun in rapid succession. But the Pottawatomies, beaten in front, closed in on the flanks. The cowardly Miamis rendered no assistance, and in fifteen minutes’ time the savages had possession of the baggage train and were slaying the women and children. Heald and the remnant of his command were isolated on a mound in the prairie. He had lost all his officers and half his men, was himself sorely wounded, and there was no choice but to surrender.
Such, in merest outline, was the battle, and one or its saddest incidents was the death of Capt. Wells. As he rode back from the fray, desperately wounded, he met his niece and bade her farewell, saying: “Tell my wife, if you live to see her—but I think it doubtful if a single one escapes—tell her I died at my post, doing the best I could. There are seven red devils over there that I have killed.” As he spoke his horse fell. pinning him to the ground. A group of Indians approached; he took deliberate aim and fired, killing one of them. As the others drew near, with a last effort he proudly lifted his head, saying: “Shoot away,” and the fatal shot was fired.
Epitome of the Whole Struggle.
So died Chicago’s hero. whose tragic fate and the hot fight in which he fell are aptly selected as the subjects of the other bas-reliefs of this monument. The bronze group which crowns it is an epitome of the whole struggle, revealing its desperate character, the kind of foemen whom our soldiers had to meet, and their mode of warfare, their merciless treatment of women and children, and setting forth the one touch of romance in the grim record of the Chicago massacre. It illustrates the moment when the young wife of Lieut. Helm, second in command of the fort, was attacked by an Indian lad, who struck her on the shoulder with a tomahawk. To prevent him from using his weapons she seized him around the neck and strove to get possession of the scalping-knife which hung in a scabbard over his breast. In the midst of the struggle she was dragged from the grasp of her assailant by an older Indian. He bore her to the lake and plunged her into the waves; but she quickly perceived that his object was not to drown her, as he held her head above water. Gazing intently at him she soon recognized, in spite of the paint with which he was disguised, the whilom friend of the whites, Black Partridge, who saved her from further harm and restored her to her friends. For this good deed, and others, too, this noble chief should be held in kindly remembrance.
It is difficult to realize that such scenes could have taken place where we meet today; but history and tradition alike bear witness that we are assembled near the center of that bloody battle-field. From the place on the lake shore a few blocks to the north, where Wells’ signal halted the column over the parallel sand ridges stretching southwesterly along the prairie and through the bushy ravines between, the running fight continued probably as far as the present intersection of Twenty-first street and Indiana avenue, where one of our soldiers was slain and scalped, and still lies buried. Just over on Michigan avenue must have been the little eminence on the prairie on which Heald made his last rally, and right before us the sulking savages, who had given away at the advance of our men, gathered in their rear around the few wagons which had vainly sought to keep under the cover of our line.
Massacre Monument at its original site, the Pullman Mansion, at 1729 South Prairie Avenue.
If the Tree Could Speak.
If this gaunt old cottonwood, long known as the “Massacre Tree,” could speak what a tale of horror it would tell. For tradition, strong as Holy Writ, affirms that between this tree and its neighbor, the roots of which still remain beneath the pavement, the baggage wagon containing twelve children of the white families of the fort halted and one young savage climbing into it tomahawked the entire group. A little while and this sole witness of that deed of woe must pass away. But the duty of preserving the name and the locality of the Chicago massacre, which has been its charge for so many years, is now transferred to this stately monument, which will faithfully perform it long after the fall of the “Massacre Tree.”
Capt. Heald’s whole party, not including the Miami detachment, when they marched out of Fort Dearborn comprised fifty-four regulars, twelve militiamen, nine women, and eighteen children ninety-three white persons in all. Of these twenty-six regulars and the twelve militiamen were slain in action, two women and twelve children were murdered on the field, and five regulars were barbarously put to death after the surrender. There remained then but thirty-six of the whole party of ninety-three, and of the sixty-six fighting men who met their red foemen here that day only twenty-three survived. These, with seven women and six children, were prisoners in the hands of the savages. We know of the romantic escape, by the aid of friendly Indians, of Capt. and Mrs. Heald and Lieut. and Mrs. Helm; and three of the soldiers, one of whom was Orderly Sergeant William Griffith, in less than two two months after the massacre found their way to Michigan, bringing the sad news from Fort Dearborn. Hull’s surrender had placed Detroit in the hands of the enemy; but the Territorial Chief Justice, Woodward, the highest United States authority there, in a ringing letter to the British Commandant, Col. Proctor, under date of Oct. 8, 1812, demanded in the name of humanity that instant should betaken for the preservation of these unhappy captives by sending special messengers among the Indians to collect the prisoners and bring them to the nearest army post, and the orders to cooperate should be issued to the British officers on the lakes. Col. Proctor one month before had been informed by his own people of the bloody work at Chicago, and had reported the same to his superior officer,Maj.-Gen. Brock, but had contented himself with remarking that he had no knowledge of any attack having been intended by the Indians on Chicago, nor could they indeed be said to be within the influence of the British.
Ransomed by a Trader.
Now, sparred to action by Judge Woodward’s clear and forcible presentation of the case, Proctor promised to use the most effective means in his power for the speedy release from slavery of these unfortunate individuals. He committed the matter to Robert Dickson, British agent to the Indians of the Western Nations, who proceeded about it leisurely enough. March 16, 1813, he wrote from St. Joseph’s Lake, Mich. that there remained of the ill-fated garrison of Chicago captives among the Indians seventeen soldiers, four women, and some children, and that he had taken the necessary steps for their redemption and had the fullest confidence that he should succeed in getting the whole. Six days later he came to Chicago and inspected the ruined fort, where, as he says, there remained only two pieces of brass ordinance, three pounders—one in the river with wheels and the other dismounted—a powder magazine, well preserved, and a few houses on the outside of the fort in good condition. This desolation apparently was not relieved by the presence of a single inhabitant. Such was the appearance of Chicago in the spring following the massacre. Of these seventeen soldiers, the nine who survived their long imprisonment was ransomed by a French trader and sent to Quebec, and ultimately reached Plattsburg, N. Y., in the summer of 1814. Of the women two were rescued from slavery, one by the kindness of Black Partridge; and the other doubtless perished in captivity. Of the children we only hear again of one. In a letter written to Maj.-Gen. Proctor by Capt. Bullock, the British commander at Mackinac, Sept. 25, 1813, he says: “There is also here a boy (Peter Bell) 5 or 6 years of age, whose father and mother were killed at Chicago. The boy was purchased from the Indians by a trader and brought here last July by direction of Mr. Dickson.” Of the six little people who fell into the hands of the Indians this one small waif alone seems to have floated to the sbors of freedom.
Some of the Indians Punished.
The Pottawatomies, after the battle and the burning of the fort, divided their booty and prisoners and scattered, some to their villages, some to join their brethren in the siege of Fort Wayne. Here they were foiled by the timely arrival of William Henry Harrison, then Governor of the Indiana Territory, with a force of Kentucky and Ohio troops, and condign punishment was inflicted upon a part at least of the Chicago murderers. A detachment which Gen. Harrison signed to this work was commanded by Col. Samuel Wells, who must have remembered his brother’s death when he destroyed the village of Five Medals, a leading, Pottawatomie chief. To one of the ruthless demons who slew women and children under the branches of this tree, such an appropriate vengeance came that it seems fitting to tell the story here. He was older than most of the band, a participant in many battles, and a deadly enemy of the whites. His scanty hair was drawn slightly upward and tied with a string, making a tuft on top of his head, and from this peculiarity he was known as Chief Shavehead. Years after the Chicago massacre he was a hunter in Western Michigan and when in liquor was fond of boasting his achievements on the warpath. On one of these occasions in the streets of little village he told the fearful tale of his doings on this field with all its horrors; but among his hearers there chanced to be a soldier of the garrison of Fort Dearborn, one of the few survivors of that fatal day. As he listened he saw that frightful scene again, and was maddened by its recall. At sundown the old brave left the settlement, and silently on his trail the soldier came “with his gun,” says the account, “resting in the hollow of his left arm and the right hand clasped around the lock, with his finger carelessly toying with the trigger.” The red man and the white passed into the shade of the forest; the soldier returned alone; Chief Shavehead was never seen again. He had paid the penalty of his crime to one who could, with fitness, exact it. Such was the fate of a chief actor in the dark scene enacted here.
Tribute to William Henry Harrison.
Many others of the Pottawatomie tribe joined the British forces in the field, and at the battle of the Thames, Oct. 5, 1813, they were confronted again by Harrison and his riflemen, who avenged the slaughter at Chicago upon one of its perpetrators.Victor and victim also have passed away. The story of their struggle remains, and this masterpiece will be an object teaching it to after generations. Mr. Pullman’s liberal and thoughtful action is a needed recognition of the importance and interest of our early history, an inspiration to its study, and an example which may well be followed. The event which this monument commemorates, its principal incidents, and the after fortunes of those concerned in it, have been briefly sketched and much has necessarily been left unsaid. But we should not omit a grateful recognition of the services of the able civilian soldier, William Henry Harrison, who staid the tide of barbarians which flowed from the Chicago massacre be humbled the tribe which was responsible for that tragedy. The name of Harrison is infinitely and honorably associated with he early frays in the Northwest, withe war of 1812, and with the highest office in the gift of the American people half a century ago, it is likewise intimately and honorably associated with the later days of the Northwest, with the great Civil War, and again with the highest office in the gift of the American people in our own times. It is fitting that the distinguished descendant of William Henry Harrison should be here today. It is a high honor that the the eminent ex-President of the United States should grace this occasion with his presence, which makes these exercises complete. I have the great pleasure of introducing to you ex-President Benjamin Harrison.
Ex-President Harrison’s Speech.
There was a burst of applause as the ex-President came to the edge of the balcony. He held a few sheets of note paper in his hand. Gazing at the intent audience for a moment he read their contents slowly and then folding them up finished extemporaneously. It was a polished, eloquent effort filled with lofty sentiment and a spirit of high patriotism, and many times the distinguished speaker was interrupted with applause. The ex-President said:
Chicago is exalted today, lifted up to a, pinnacle that brings upon her the vision of the world. The nations, great and small, all races and tongues, have sent hither their official representatives with the choicest product of their art and of their handicraft. She has builded for the reception of the Nation’s guests and for the display of their treasures palaces which in extent of adaptation, and in classic grace and beauty far excel the best efforts of the cities that have before opened their gates to receive the representatives of the world. [Applause.]
Doubts, difficulties, jealousies, and petty criticism have been swept away with the clear sunlight of a magnificent success shines upon the great enterprise. [Applause.] All other States and cities of this proud, united, and happy land share with you in the joy of this success, for it is an American success, [Applause.]
But we are not at the White City today. Here, in this quiet corner by the lakeside, we come to be instructed by recalling an incident of the year 1812. These exercises are not out of time. They are not inharmonious. The starting just as well as the finish must be taken of in the race. We get a better view of the oak at the buttressed trunk, the towering crown, and the spreading branches of the magnificent tree. The first rude structure that moved by steam upon the tramway sets off the 80-miles-an-hour locomotive more than its paint and brasses. So the picture Mr. Mason has given as of Chicago in 1812 makes the city of 1893 more a thing of magic, than the White City. [Applause.]
Looking at the Beginning.
But there is something better than the mere cause of growth to be had out of this brief visit to Fort Dearborn, to the Kinzie House, and to the sand dunes that drank the blood of brave men and women and of innocent children. It is morally wholesome for a man or community that has been highly exalted to consider the beginning. The soldier whose banner has triumphed on every field where it has been unfurled does well to look at the cradle in which he was rested and the homely surroundings of his child-Red, for they recall the services and the sacrifices of that generation, and of the humble father and mother whose unselfish and unobserved heroism made his greater career possible. [Applause.] Doing this he will carry away some abatement of his pride and a higher sense of obligation.
I am glad that we are beginning to build monuments. Bunker Hill was, not long ago, lonesome, but now every city and nearly all counties have built in commemoration of the heroes and of the cause. The sculptor has found the universal language. He speaks to the schooled and to the unschooled. The history of the conquest of the West is full of incidents calculated to kindle the historian, and to stir the imagination of the novelist, the painter, and the sculptor. The pioneer was as fine as he was unique in character. Free and unconventionally brave and self-reliant, as responsive to the cry of distress of a knight errant, he pushed the skirmish line of civilization from the Alleghanies to the Rockies. All honor to him. He labored and forever entered into his labor. We possess the lands he won from the savagery of nature and of the natives. Have we as strong a hold upon the sturdy virtues which his life illustrated?
Every community should properly mark the scene of such historical event as we now commemorate. The future is full of imperious demands, but the historian serves the future as effectively as the projector. We shall value our possession of lands and free institutions more highly if we learn that they were bought not with corruptible things, as silver and gold, but with precious blood, the blood of the brave and of the innocent. We shall, after this lesson, be more willing to preserve by blood, if need be, that which was nought by blood.
Afforded a Display of Heroism.
This event which this monument commemorates was not a great military achievement. In the light of history the evacuation was a fatal mis-take, but it was the occasion for bringing into prominence, it gave a field of display, for some of those traits of heroism, of courage in men and women, which so marked the whole course of our pioneer experience. [Applause.]
I am glad that the generosity of your fellow-citizen (Mr. Pullman) has marked this spot. There is a teaching and an inspiring force in every such structure. Our land is not old. We cannot show to these visiting foreigners any ruins or any ivied castles. There is the mark of the chisel yet upon all our structures. And yet no century of the history of any nation’s life can be found fuller of heroic adventure, of unselfish devotion to duty of high enterprise, and of success in the establishment of great institutions than this century of our young existence. [Applause.]
It is, I am sure, a pleasant thing for you who are here to turn back and away for a moment from these hurrying scenes that are about you and to look with contemplated eye upon these incidents in the early history of Chicago, which, if they teach any lesson, teach this: that the prosperity of communities, the safety and honor of States, must be bedded upon a virtuous, self-respecting, law-abiding, and God-fearing people. [Applause.],
Inspecting the Bronze.
The ex-President’s speech concluded the ceremonies. He, with Mr. Pullman, the sculptor, Carl Rohl-Smith, Norman B. Ream, E. Gillason, and a few others, walked down and inspected the bronze. Others of the guests followed and returning scattered through the library and palm house and the grounds. Little groups were formed, refreshments were served, and for half an hour the occasion resembled a garden party. It was nearly 6 o’clock before the last of the long stream of carriages which blocked the surrounding streets had melted away. But numbers of people came and went around the beautiful statue until darkness fell and hid its details from view.
In the pedestal of the group was placed a copper box containing the following:
- Chicago City Directory, 1893; official directors World’s Fair: Standard Guide of Chicago; fire pictures, portraits,: engravings, etc.; Story of Chicago, Kirkland; Story of Massacre, Kirkland; Judge Caton’s narrative concerning the massacre tree; Holden’s sketch concerning battlefield: cylinder of phonographic speech: letter of donation; daily newspapers of Chicago.
Standard Guide of Chicago, Flinn, 1893
Chicago Massacre of 1812, Kirkland, 1893
Fort Dearborn Massacre
Charles Turzak
1930
Chicago Tribune, July 10, 1931
Hardly had the city contain adopted a resolution to observe formally the anniversary of the Fort Dearborn massacre on Aug. 15, than the shrine marking the site of the tragedy disappeared yesterday. Only the heavy base of the monument at 18th street and Calumet avenue, erected years ago by the Pullman family in front of their mansion, remained last night. The statuary, however, was in kind hands.
The agents of the city could not find, for a time, the bronze group which depicted Black Partridge rescuing the wife of Lieut. L. T. Helm from an Indian who tried to kill her. This monument had been placed there by the family of George M. Pullman to mark the scene of the massacre. Black Partridge. who had received a medal from “Mad Anthony” Wayne, had been friendly to the whites and had advised that the fort be held until help could arrive. This advice was disregarded because of orders from Gen. Hull at Detroit to abandon the fort after the British in the war of 1812 had captured the fort at Mackinac.
Lieut. Helm, his wife, and Capt Nathan Heald. who commanded at Fort Dearborn, were among the 25 soldiers and eleven women and children who had survived the massacre. Those who had left the fort included about 41 able bodied troops, 12 women and 20 children. The killing occurred Aug. 15, 1812.
Yesterday inquiry was made among city departments to see who had ordered removal of the bronze group but no information was obtained at the city hall of the issuance of any such order.
As a, matter of fact, city officials, it was learned, have lately appealed to the south park board to inform them where authority over the site belongs. When told that it lay with the city, they declared themselves entirely at sea as to which department would or should have it in charge.
A call to the Chicago Historical society solved the enigma. Hubbard Shattuck, director, promptly furnished all the details of the activity about the monument, and its whereabouts.
“Right at this moment the statuary is resting out in the historical society yard,” he revealed. “We gave the order to remove the figures, as custodians of the memorial. Something had to be done to save it from the depredations of vandals and the corroding influence of the trains passing the spot. as well as the damp air. All these things had wrecked havoc with the bronze, and we hope to be able to restore it.
Just what will be done with it in the future remains a problem. The site, near where the actual massacre occurred, is the logical place for it. But that part of the city is in an unsettled condition at present, and it may be erected somewhere else. A committee headed by Dr. Otto L. Schmidt has the matter in hand. I understand the city officials are bewildered about the site hardly knowing in what department it belongs or what la to be done with it.”
Chicago Tribune, September 11, 1931
Various prominent citizens of Chicago yesterday received a communication from Theodore L. Condron, engineer, requesting an expression of opinion about a plan for relocating the Fort Dearborn Massacre monument. If sufficient impetus is given, the plan will be laid before the city officials, officers of the Chicago Historical society, and the south park commissioners, for their approval and consent.
The Condron plan is to place the bronze group on a safety island dividing the west plaza of the 23d street viaduct over the Illinois Central tracks. One of three locations most favored is the center of the roadway, where the figures would be faced westward, on a diamond shaped island with traffic lights imbedded in the eastern and western points of the island base.
This position would give the monument a commanding site, certain to be passed each year by millions of motorists entering and leaving the city. A further advantage lies in the fact that the point chosen is not far distant from 18th street, usually designated as the scene of the massacre. As a matter of fact, the clash between the Indians and the soldiers and civilians deserting the fort is thought to have spread out for some distance along the lake shore.
Depredations by vandals and erosion by rust and smoky atmosphere recently inspired the Chicago His torical society to remove the massacre monument, which depicts Black Partridge rescuing Mrs. Helm, to its own property at Dearborn and Ontario streets. Restoration of the figures and of the bronze plates, torn off many months ago by thieves, will precede any decision as to the future locale of the monument..
Chicago Tribune, August 14, 2009
A tragic chapter in Windy City history known to generations of schoolchildren as “The Ft. Dearborn Massacre” will be renamed by the Chicago Park District on Saturday.
With a military honor guard and Native American dancers, a patch of green at 18th Street and Calumet Avenue is to be dedicated the “Battle of Ft. Dearborn Park.” That apparent nod to political correctness won’t go down well with many Chicagoans who, from bar stools to seminar tables, cherish their city’s legend and lore.
“It’s not to say there wasn’t a massacre, but we wanted to provide a vehicle for people to come together,” said Tina Feldstein, president of Prairie District Neighborhood Alliance the ceremony’s host.
Call it what you will, what occurred there on Aug. 15, 1812, was no picnic. Now, it’s a pleasant spot for alfresco dining in a gentrifying neighborhood, but 197 years ago, it was a place of bloodshed.
The U.S. and England had gone to war a second time, and a party of soldiers and pioneer Chicagoans evacuated Ft. Dearborn, then on the country’s western frontier. Having reached the site of Saturdav’s festiv-ities, they were ambushed by 500 Potawatomi warriors. Two-thirds of the Ft. Dearborn group were killed 61 to 63 men, women and children. So, too, were 15 Indians.
It is often said that history is written by the victors. But it’s tricky to apply that aphorism to the battle over what to call the Battle/ Massacre of 1812.
The Indians won the encounter, taking survivors into captivity, later selling them to the British, and burning Ft. Dearborn. But their victory only quickened the U.S. government’s efforts to evict the tribes from their villages and hunting grounds. By 1833, the year Chicago was incorporated as a town, the Indians had been re moved from its vicinity, noted Russell Lewis, chief historian of the Chicago History Museum.
So it’s not surprising there’s more than one collective memory of the event—as Feldstein’s group discovered when it set out to name the park a couple of years ago.
John Low, a member of the Pokagon Band of Potawatomi and director of the Mitchell Museum of the American Indian, in Evanston, saluted the winning choice as even-handed, not “casting the parties as victims or victors, villains or heroes.”
The naming contest began a couple of years ago, when a resident of the Near South Side neighborhood suggested the park be named for Black Partridge. That would have been both neutral and appropriate, according to Jerry Crimmins, author of the historical novel “Fort Dearborn.” Black Partridge was an Indian who warned the soldiers and settlers of an impending attack, urging them not to retreat from the fort, as they had been ordered. He accompanied the Ft. Dearborn group on its ill-fated journey, protecting a white woman from attackers.
“He tried to prevent the conflict,” Crimmins said. “Black Partridge should be a hero to both sides.”
When Black Partridge was nominated, someone recalled that a statue honoring him used to stand near the site of the encounter, suggesting it be re-installed at the new park. First, though, the neighborhood group had to get the local alderman to sign off on the proposed name.
Technically, the Park District chooses. But in Chicago-style politics, an alderman is, so to speak, the Great White Father of his ward.
“When they brought the name to me, my question was: ‘Can you get the Indian tribes to agree?’ ” said Ald. Robert Fioretti (2nd). “I said: I doubt vou can.’
That was a pretty good guess-given what had happened to the Black Partridge sculpture.
The statue depicting Black Partridge shielding a white woman from another Indian’s tomahawk-was commissioned by railroad-car magnate George Pullman, whose estate was near the site of the encounter. The statue stood there from 1893 to 1931, then was installed in the lobby of the Chicago Historical Society. In the 1970s, Native Americans protested its display.
“From their perspective, Black Partridge was a traitor,” said James Grossman, co-editor of “The Encyclopedia of Chicago.”
In the 1980s, the statue was acquired by the city, which moved it back to the neighborhood when the Prairie Avenue community began to be revitalized in the 1990s. Subsequently, it was again removed (1997), and placed in city storage, ostensibly to conserve it, where it remains.
The alderman’s warning came true: Naming the park for Black Partridge was vetoed by various Native American organizations, including the American Indian Center. Once Black Partridge was out of the running, “Ft. Dearborn Massacre.” wasn’t a viable candidate.
“‘Massacre’ is such a judgmental word,” Low said. “We discussed how, from another perspective, you might call it ‘Victory Park.'”
Feldstein recalled the delicate negotiations it took to find a compromise acceptable to all parties.
“I got an unbelievable history lesson,” she said
Others are less sure of what the lesson is. Grossman is pleased with the name change, from massacre to battle. He thinks it corrects a bias in the story of how the West was won- and lost.
“If you look at standard texts, when the Indians win, it’s a massa-cre,”
‘Grossman said. “But when the Americans win, it’s a battle.”
But Crimmins is troubled by the snub to Black Partridge and Chicago history, as he sees it. “Historical revisionism typically takes heroes from the past and makes villains of them,” Crimmins said. “As long as I write about it, I’m going to call it the Ft. Dearborn Massacre.”
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