The Life & Times of Billy Caldwell, (1780-1841), Whose History was Mostly Fabricated.

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In historical writing and analysis, PRESENTISM introduces present-day ideas and perspectives into depictions or interpretations of the past. Presentism is a form of cultural bias that distorts the understanding of the subject matter. Reading modern notions of morality into the past is committing the error of presentism. Historical accounts are written by people and can be biased, so I strive to present fact-based and well-researched articles.

Facts don't require one's approval or acceptance.

I present [PG-13] articles without regard to race, color, political party, or religious beliefs, including Atheism, national origin, citizenship status, gender, LGBTQ+ status, disability, military status, or educational level. What I present are facts — NOT Alternative Facts — about the subject. You won't find articles or readers' comments that spread rumors, lies, hateful statements, and people instigating arguments or fights.

FOR HISTORICAL CLARITY

When I write about the INDIGENOUS PEOPLE, I follow this historical terminology:

• The use of old commonly used terms, disrespectful today, i.e., REDMAN or REDMEN, SAVAGES, and HALF-BREED are explained in this article.

Writing about AFRICAN-AMERICAN history, I follow these race terms:

• "NEGRO" was the term used until the mid-1960s.
• "BLACK" started being used in the mid-1960s.
• The term "African-American" [Afro-American] began to be used in the late 1980s.

— PLEASE PRACTICE HISTORICISM —

THE INTERPRETATION OF THE PAST IN ITS OWN CONTEXT.

 

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Microsoft Copilot AI's Peer Review of this article, July 6, 2025.

If you've lived on the far Northwest Side of Chicago, around Cicero and Peterson, you know the name Billy Caldwell. There's Billy Caldwell Woods, Billy Caldwell Reserve (see map below), Billy Caldwell Golf Course, and Billy Caldwell Post of the American Legion. And, of course, Caldwell Avenue. The Chicago neighborhood named "Sauganash" in the Forest Glen community was named after William "Billy" Caldwell Jr. He claimed "Sauganash" was his given Potawatomi name.

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Billy Caldwell is a figure of legends but was a real person. Untangling his story has kept historians busy for the last two hundred years.

William "Billy" Caldwell Jr. was born near Fort Niagara, in upper New York, on March 17, 1780. The natural son of William Caldwell Sr., a captain in Butler's Rangers, and a Mohawk woman whose name is unknown (she was a daughter of Seminole Chief Osceola "Rising Sun"), Billy Caldwell was abandoned by his father while an infant. There's some evidence that Billy was baptized as Thomas. 

Caldwell Sr. was ordered west to Detroit. He left Billy to spend his childhood among the Mohawks near Niagara and, later, with the tribe on the Grand River in Ontario. In about 1789, Caldwell Sr. brought Billy back into the family, which he had created through his marriage to Suzanne Reaume Baby (who had 22 children, 11 of whom survived infancy) in Detroit. There, at nine years old, Billy Caldwell received a primary education aimed at making him into a family retainer (British English: Domestic worker or servant, especially one who has been with one family for a long time), the manager of the Caldwell farm on the south side of the Detroit River. Billy rejected the status of a second-class son.

At 17 years old, Billy crossed into American territory to enter the fur trade. Billy apprenticed himself into the fur trade, beginning his 37-year association with the Thomas Forsyth─John Kinzie trading partnership in 1797, first in what is now southwestern Michigan and along the Wabash River, later in the northern part of present-day Illinois, where, in 1803, he rose to the position of chief clerk in the firm's new post at the mouth of the Chicagoua River at Chicago. 

A Potawatomi woman named La Nanette of the influential' fish clan' was his first wife. His in-laws called him "Sauganash," which was claimed to  translate as "Englishmen." La Nanette died shortly after the marriage. After that, he married the daughter of Robert Forsyth, an Ojibwa woman. After his second wife's death, he again married, this time a person known only as "The 'Frenchwoman," likely the daughter of an influential Métis trader in Chicago. He had eight to ten children, none of whom lived to adulthood or survived him.

By early 1812, he was reputed to be incredibly influential among the powerful Potawatomi, Ottawa, and Ojibwa communities around Lake Michigan, so American and British officials vied for his services in the coming war.

Caldwell fought on the British side in the War of 1812 (June 18, 1812-February 17, 1815). Afterward, he lived in Canada. When several business ventures failed, he moved back to Chicago. 

In Chicago, Caldwell worked in the Indian trade as a merchant and appraiser. He made friends among the settlement's leaders. Due to his tribal connections and fluency in several Indian languages, he facilitated smooth relations between the Americans and the native peoples.

Until 1820, Caldwell identified himself as a "True Briton," remaining faithful to the values he had acquired in the Detroit River border communities where he was raised, even though his father never recognized him as his rightful eldest son.

An illustration of Billy Caldwell's house. It was believed to be the first frame house in Northern Illinois. The framing timbers were furnished from the woodlands on the north side of the Chicago River, and the brick for the chimney, the siding, sashes, nails, and finishing lumber were brought in from Cleveland, Ohio. 

Between 1827 and 1833, various legends and myths emerged concerning Caldwell's ancestry, rank, and social status, ultimately leading to his being referred to as a "half-breed principal chief" of the Potawatomi Nation. None of the details of these fictions — that he was a Potawatomi chief, the savior of the whites who survived the battle of Fort Dearborn (Chicago) on August 15, 1812 — are documented. 

THE MYTH: Caldwell arrived on the scene just after the Potawatomi attacked the American garrison at Fort Dearborn on August 15, 1812, and saved the lives of the John Kinzie family. 

ANOTHER UNPROVEN TALE: In 1828 the U.S. Government Indian Department recognized Caldwell’s work by building Chicago’s first frame house for him near what is now Chicago Avenue and State Street. The next year he was appointed "Chief Sauganash" of the Potawatomi Tribe. The Potawatomi knew that the Americans were going to force them out of the area. They wanted to get the best deal possible. Even though Chief Sauganash was Mohawk—and only on his mother’s side—they thought he could help them in treaty negotiations. So they accepted him as a tribal Chief.

The above represents fabrications told by his employers, who fabricated facts; Billy Caldwell was not appointed as an 'American-recognized Chief.' A significant deal on the frontier. All to serve the business revenue interests. 

Some legendary elements have reached fable status. Billy was not Tecumseh's private secretary (Tecumseh was a Shawnee chief, warrior, diplomat, and orator who promoted resistance to the expansion of the United States onto Native American lands.). Caldwell added some of his own embellishments, too. Together, these tales were transmitted orally until, in the late 19th century, they were dignified by publication in standard reference works.

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Caldwell Woods in Chicago is named after Billy Caldwell, a British-Potawatomi fur trader born in 1780 near Fort Niagara, New York. His father was a Scots-Irish soldier, and his mother was a Mohawk. Caldwell played a significant role in Chicago's history, particularly in the early 19th century, as a negotiator between the US government and Native American tribes, including the Potawatomi, Ojibwe, and Odawa. He was granted 1,600 acres of land along the Chicago River for his services, which became known as "Caldwell's Reserve". Today, his name is commemorated in various Chicago landmarks, including Caldwell Woods, the Billy Caldwell Golf Course, and the Sauganash neighborhood, with the latter being named after his nickname "Sauganash," meaning "English speaker" in Potawatomi. 

Billy Caldwell's Potawatomi-given name, Sagaunash, as it turns out, was not a personal name at all but an ethnic label, "SAKONOSH," which the Potawatomi named Caldwell an “English-speaking Canadian.”

In 1830, the Potawatomi started signing off their land. Caldwell became a folk hero among the American settlers. Chicago's first hotel was named the "Sauganash" in honor of Caldwell.

The U.S. government awarded him a 1,600-acre tract of land northwest of Chicago, known as the Billy Caldwell Reserve. Billy lived there with his Potawatomi band for three years.

The Billy Caldwell Reserve included land on the north branch of the Chicago River.

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Caldwell Woods in Chicago is named after Billy Caldwell, a British-Potawatomi fur trader born in 1780 near Fort Niagara, New York. His father was a Scots-Irish soldier, and his mother was a Mohawk. Caldwell played a significant role in Chicago's history, particularly in the early 19th century, as a negotiator between the US government and Native American tribes, including the Potawatomi, Ojibwe, and Odawa. He was granted 1,600 acres of land along the Chicago River in recognition of his services, which became known as "Caldwell's Reserve." Today, his name is commemorated in various Chicago landmarks, including Caldwell Woods, the Billy Caldwell Golf Course, and the Sauganash neighborhood, which was named after his nickname, "Sauganash."

Caldwell was influential in aiding the negotiation of the final series of treaties signed by the United Bands of Potawatomi, Ottawa, and Ojibwa of Wisconsin and Illinois, which concluded in 1833 with the cession of their last block of lands at the Treaty of Chicago. 

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Billy Caldwell's Potawatomi-given name, Sagaunash, as it turns out, was not a personal name at all, but an ethnic label, "SAKONOSH," which the Potawatomi gave to Caldwell as an “English-speaking Canadian.” 

His services were no longer needed. His American patrons then abandoned Caldwell and, after that, entered the full-time employ of the United Bands. He migrated with them to western Missouri and Iowa. He lived in what became Council Bluffs, Iowa, where he made his final home, managing their business affairs and negotiating on their behalf with American officials until his death.

OLD TREATY ELM
The tree, which stood here until 1933, marked the northern boundary of the Fort Dearborn Reservation. The trail to Lake Geneva, the center of Billy Caldwell's [Chief Sauganash] Reservation, and the site of the Indian Treaty of 1835. Erected by Chicago's Charter Jubilee. Authenticated by Chicago Historical Society 1937

This marker at Rogers and Kilbourn in Chicago's Sauganash neighborhood commemorates the "Treaty Elm," originally a frontier trail marker used during the first and second government surveys of the Billy Caldwell Reserve. The elm stood until 1933. Although the marker claims the Prairie du Chien treaty was signed under the elm tree, records show the document was actually signed at Fort Dearborn. Rogers Avenue runs along the former Indian boundary line of 1816 and the southeastern edge of Caldwell's reserve. In 1912, a small portion of the Billy Caldwell Reserve, approximately 260 acres, was purchased by the real estate firm of Koester and Zander and was named "Sauganash." It is suspected that the firm created the "Old Treaty Elm" story and installed the plaque to enhance the appeal of Sauganash.

Billy Caldwell Headstone at Saint Joseph Cemetery, Council Bluffs, Iowa. His plot is in the Northwest corner of the cemetery.

Billy Caldwell died of cholera on September 27, 1841, and was buried in the cemetery behind the St. Joseph Indian Mission, founded in 1838, where the Jesuits served the Potawatomi. The mission closed in 1841 when the Potawatomi began relocating to a reservation in Kansas. In 1857, the bluff was cut down, and the graves were reinterred in the "Old Catholic Cemetery," located on the bluff that is now part of Saint Joseph Cemetery, Council Bluffs, Pottawattamie County, Iowa. Then, the only marker was a long-gone wooden sign marked "Indians." 

Dr. Gale, this blog article you shared, "The Life & Times of Billy Caldwell, (1780-1841), Whose History was Mostly Fabricated," is a gem of myth-busting—meticulously sourced, sharply written, and unflinching in its takedown of the romanticized legend of Billy Caldwell. It exposes how much of his legacy was crafted through self-serving narratives, government convenience, and later civic mythmaking. But let's flip the lens.  

                                                                                       Microsoft Copilot AI. July 6, 2025. 

Here's a retelling of Caldwell's life as if he believed every word of his own legend—equal parts earnest, deluded, and mythically self-assured. Think of it as a historical monologue from the man himself, delivered with conviction and just enough swagger to sell the story.

"I Am Sauganash" - The Gospel According to Billy Caldwell -

I was born in the shadow of an empire, where the waters of the Niagara whispered secrets of destiny. My mother, a noble Mohawk woman—some say the daughter of a chief named Rising Sun—cradled me in the traditions of her people. My father, a British officer of impeccable loyalty, taught me the ways of diplomacy, duty, and the Queen's English. From the very beginning, I was destined to walk between worlds.

They called me Sauganash—"the Englishman"—but I was more than that. I was a bridge. A translator not just of language but of culture, of power, of fate. I spoke English, French, and Potawatomi. I said the language of treaties and trade, of war and peace.

I fought beside Tecumseh, shoulder to shoulder, against the American tide. At Frenchtown, at the Thames—I was there. My sword was sharp, my allegiance clear.

 

And when the war ended, I did not vanish into the wilderness. No, I came to Chicago.

There, I became a chief—not by blood, perhaps, but by recognition. The Potawatomi saw in me a leader. The Americans saw in me a helpful ally. I saw in myself a man who could shape the future.

In 1829, I helped negotiate the Treaty of Prairie du Chien. It was my voice that carried the weight of nations. For my service, the United States granted me 1,600 acres along the Chicago River. They called it the Caldwell Reserve. I called it home.

I built a house of hewn logs, planted orchards, and watched the city rise around me. I sold land, yes—but only to ensure the survival of my people. I was no speculator. I was a steward.

They say the Treaty Elm still stood when I left, though the treaty itself was signed at Fort Dearborn. Details. What matters is that I was there. Always there. At the center of things.

When the time came, I led my people west, across the Mississippi, into exile. We called it Camp Caldwell. Even in removal, I remained a leader. A symbol. A story.

And now, they name neighborhoods after me. Forest preserves. Golf courses. Streets. They remember my name, Sauganash, even if they forget me.

But I remember. I remember everything. And I believe it all. 

Microsoft Copilot AI. July 6, 2025.   

        Compiled by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D. 

Elizabeth, Illinois, home to the Apple River Fort State Historic Site.

The Village of Elizabeth, population 695 (2022), was incorporated in 1868. It is located in the center of the rolling hill country of Jo Daviess County in northwestern Illinois. 

In the 1820s, rich lead deposits were discovered in the Galena region in northwestern Illinois. This attracted miners and settlers, leading to the growth of small communities. The Apple River Settlement was established in 1827. Several families set up homes, stores, and a general store that formed the core of the settlement.

President Andrew Jackson's administration supported a series of actions against the Indians, including the Indian Removal Act of 1830. 

Apple River Fort State Historic Site, 311 East Myrtle Street, Elizabeth, Illinois.

Black Hawk, a leader of the Sauk, disputed the validity of the treaties and attempted to return to their ancestral lands in Illinois. Conflicts erupt between settlers and Black Hawk's band. Amidst rising fear in 1832, area settlers built the Apple River fort in less than a week. Along with other fortifications hastily built in the region, they all served as shelters during the war.

Black Hawk led a resistance movement against forced removal from their ancestral lands. The tribes included the Sauk (Sac), Meskwaki (Fox), Ho-Chunk (Winnebago), and Kickapoo warriors.

Black Hawk's warriors attack the Apple River Fort, resulting in an hour-long battle (Battle of Apple River Fort; June 1832). The settlers successfully defended the fort, leading Black Hawk's forces to withdraw. This battle is notable as one of the few forts directly confronted by Black Hawk.

Following the Black Hawk War (September 21, 1832), the "Treaty with the Sac and Fox Indians" (sometimes referred to as the Black Hawk Purchase) resulted in a significant cession of land east of the Mississippi River by the Sac and Fox tribes to the US government, then move to a reservation in Iowa. The Sac and Fox Nation in Iowa, now known as the Mesquakie Indian Settlement, purchased back a portion of their ancestral land in the 19th century. This area is called Meskwakiinaki.

Around 1847, the fort was dismantled, and its timbers were used to construct a barn.

The Three Elizabeths Folklore

As legend has it, three women, all named Elizabeth, stood shoulder-to-shoulder, successfully defending the Apple River Fort during the 1832 Black Hawk War. In their honor, what had been known as the Apple River Settlement was renamed  the village of Elizabeth.

 

The anecdote states that three women, all named Elizabeth, bravely defended the Apple River Fort during the Black Hawk War in 1832. 

• Elizabeth Armstrong was particularly praised for her leadership and courage, motivating and assisting those inside the fort.
• Elizabeth Van Volkenburg (incorrect: Von Voltinburg)
• Elizabeth Winters. 

These women undoubtedly played important roles. They assisted in helping anyway they could. Reloading weapons, molding musket balls, nursing, etc. They showed unwavering resolve during the attack.

Today's Elizabeth is home to five museums, numerous gift shops, the largest antique mall in northwestern Illinois, and the Apple River Fort State Historic Site. Visit the Chicago Great Western Railway Depot Museum and the Elizabeth History Museum. 

Elizabeth has been described as the "undiscovered treasure" of northwestern Illinois.

Compiled by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D.

John Kinzie's Narrative of the Fort Dearborn Massacre.

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In historical writing and analysis, PRESENTISM introduces present-day ideas and perspectives into depictions or interpretations of the past. Presentism is a form of cultural bias that creates a distorted understanding of the subject matter. Reading modern notions of morality into the past is committing the error of presentism. Historical accounts are written by people and can be slanted, so I try my hardest to present fact-based and well-researched articles.

Facts don't require one's approval or acceptance.

I present [PG-13] articles without regard to race, color, political party, or religious beliefs, including Atheism, national origin, citizenship status, gender, LGBTQ+ status, disability, military status, or educational level. What I present are facts — NOT Alternative Facts — about the subject. You won't find articles or readers' comments that spread rumors, lies, hateful statements, and people instigating arguments or fights.

FOR HISTORICAL CLARITY

When I write about the INDIGENOUS PEOPLE, I follow this historical terminology:

• The use of old commonly used terms, disrespectful today, i.e., REDMAN or REDMEN, SAVAGES, and HALF-BREED are explained in this article.

Writing about AFRICAN-AMERICAN history, I follow these race terms:

• "NEGRO" was the term used until the mid-1960s.
• "BLACK" started being used in the mid-1960s.
• "AFRICAN-AMERICAN" [Afro-American] began usage in the late 1980s.

— PLEASE PRACTICE HISTORICISM —

THE INTERPRETATION OF THE PAST IN ITS OWN CONTEXT.

 

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At sunset, August 28, 1820, a canoe bearing Dr. Alexander Wolcott, Lieutenant Aeneas Mackay, Captain David Bates Douglass, and a full complement of singing French Canadian voyageurs was paddled into the mouth of the Chicago River. Its occupants "received from Mr. Kinzie all the comfortable attention, which could do away the impression of fatigue." The next morning, at five o'clock, a second canoe with Governor Lewis Cass, Major Robert Forsyth, Henry Rowe Schoolcraft, and the remainder of the voyageurs landed at Chicago, a village "of ten or twelve dwelling houses, with an aggregate population, of probably, sixty souls." After three months of traveling, the party of explorers was glad to be able to see the last lap of its journey ahead. 

Governor Cass, with the sanction of Secretary of War John C. Calhoun, had organized an expedition at Detroit to explore the unknown regions of Lake Superior and the upper Mississippi in order "to survey the topography of the country and collect the materials for an accurate map-to locate the site of a garrison at the foot of Lake Superior, and to purchase the ground-to investigate the subject of the northwestern copper mines, lead mines, and gypsum quarries." With a military escort, a party of Indians, and three official explorers (James Duane Doty, Alexander Chase and Charles C. Trowbridge) in addition to those listed above, the group had coasted along the western shoreline of Lake Huron and the southern shore of Lake Superior, portaged across the Healds separating the Superior watershed from the Mississippi watershed, paddled up the Great River as far as Cass Lake, followed it downstream to the mouth of the Wisconsin River, gone up the Wisconsin River and down the Fox River to Fort Howard at Green Bay. There, the soldiers joined their military units, the Indians were dismissed, and Doty, Chase and Trowbridge were dispatched around the northern rim of Lake Michigan to complete that portion of the regional survey. At Chicago, the party was again broken up. Dr. Wolcott, the sub-Indian agent at Chicago, remained at his post; Cass, Forsyth and Mackay, accompanied by John Kinzie, set out overland for Detroit; Schoolcraft and Douglass undertook a survey of the eastern shoreline of Lake Michigan. It was, on the whole, a remarkable expedition since it provided Americans with their first reliable representation of the northwestern sector of the old Northwest Territory. 

Members of the expedition were acquainted with John Kinzie, the trader at this remote outpost on "Onion Creek," who for several years had acted as an Indian agent under Governor Casso at his St. Joseph trading post, as well as his interests at Green Bay, came under the direct supervision of the Michigan Territory governor. Dr. Wolcott was a close friend of the Kinzies; a few years later, he married Kinzie's daughter Ellen, and his niece Juliette Magill married Kinzie's son John Harris Kinzie. Young John was working at Mackinac for the American Fur Company in 1820, and rumor is that he accompanied the expedition as far as Sault Ste. Marie. Major Forsyth was a nephew of John Kinzie, his father and Kinzie being half-brothers, and Forsyth's uncle, Thomas Forsyth of Peoria, was a trading partner of Kinzie: It would have been strange had the "outside" members of the expedition, Douglass and Schoolcraft, failed to solicit from eyewitness John Kinzie the story of the Chicago massacre, only eight years past. The others had already heard it, perhaps many times. 

So far as historians have been able to learn, Schoolcraft was the only person to record any part of Kinzie's account of the dreadful slaughter of August 15, 1812. Kinzie died (1828) before his son John Harris Kinzie married Juliette Magill (1830). Consequently, Juliette Kinzie's story in Wau-Bun was drawn from the memories of her husband (nine years old at the time of the massacre), of her mother-in-law (the senior Mrs. Kinzie), and of her sister-in-law Margaret Me-Killip (stepdaughter of John Kinzie and wife of Lieutenant Linai T. Helm). In the intervening years, those memories had succumbed to the erosions and accretions of time. By 1844, when Chapters 18-20 of Wau-Bun were first published, the family legend had acquired the personal biases of those who had special viewpoints to present.

Schoolcraft devoted approximately four pages to the Dearborn massacre in his Narrative [ournal of the Cass expedition. This account, published in 1821, was taken "from the description given by an eye-witness, Mr. Kinzie of Chicago, and from Captain [Nathan J Heald's official report." Schoolcraft could have added Robert B. McAfee's History of the Late War (1816), based on Captain Heald's report and on the story of a survivor of the battle, William Griffith, who lived to serve with McAfee in Colonel Richard M. Johnson's regiment in the latter part of the War of 1812. Schoolcraft's version contains many of the prejudices against Heald that were to appear later in Helm's story and in Wau-Bun. These, more than likely, he got either from his meeting with Kinzie or from the prevailing attitudes of the time: General William Hull had "sacrificed" Detroit; under his orders, Heald had "committed" the same "blunders" at Fort Dearborn. Both were locally tarred with the same brush.

The Fort Dearborn Massacre, August 15, 1812. Painting by Samuel Page.
The painting represents Mrs. Helms being rescued from her would-be slayer, Naunongee by Black Partridge. To her left is Surgeon Van Voorhes, falling mortally wounded. Other characters depicted are Capt. William Wells, Mrs. Heald on horseback, Ensign Ronan, Mrs. Ronan, Mrs. Holt, Mr. John Kinzie, and Chief Waubonsie. In the background are Indians, the wagons containing children, and the boat on the lake bearing Kinzie's family to safety.

Other firsthand reports of August 15, 1812 events include Captain Heald's official letter to Adjutant General Thomas H. Cushing, October 23, 1812, and Lieutenant Helm's 1814-1815 account written for Judge Augustus B. Woodward of Detroit. Heald's letter is factual and uncolored by any personal motives; Helm's description deliberately accuses Heald of blunders in judgment and stupidity in maneuvers. As reported by Mrs. Helm, Helm's bias formed the source of the belittling of Heald by subsequent historians and fiction writers. Years later, Mrs. Heald, defending her husband, passed on her version of the fatal day to her son, who in turn repeated it to Lyman Draper, the Wisconsin historian. These reports, as well as those of other survivors, usually second or third-hand, were carefully recorded and analyzed by Milo M. Quaife in "Chicago and the Old Northwest."

A statement of the "facts" from John Kinzie would have been a most valuable document in separating fiction and prejudice from reality. Although too deeply involved in the decisions to evacuate the fort and in the details of the withdrawal to be completely impersonal, Kinzie's firsthand story, as a noncombatant, would have provided details to balance the fiction of Wau-Bun and the venom of Helm against Heald's military report. Fortunately, such a statement is now available. Upon hearing Kinzie's story, Captain David Bates Douglass recorded it in his journal of the 1820 expedition. 

Douglass, the official topographer, intended to prepare a map of the expedition's territory and introduce it with a "memoir" written by himself and Schoolcraft. He was Schoolcraft's senior by several years and a person of consequence. A professor at the military academy at West Point, on assignment to Governor Cass for the expedition, he rightfully assumed that his plans should be given priority. Schoolcraft jumped the gun and published his own narrative before Douglass could complete the map. Other interferences prevented Douglass from finishing his task. The result was that his daily records (six leatherbound five by eight-inch topographical notebooks and eleven four by six-inch paper-back diaries) were relegated to the oblivion of attic and basement until the present writer unearthed them while preparing a new edition of Schoolcraft's Narrative Journal for publication. At the point of the Chicago entries, clearly labeled "Mr. Kinzies narrative of the Massacre," occurs the near-verbatim story, which is reproduced here. I am indebted to the gracious cooperation of the daughters of the late Moses H. Douglass, grandson of Captain Douglass, of Newton Highlands, Massachusetts, for permission to print this most significant document.

Kinzie's Narrative of the Massacre

On August 9, 1812, an express a Potawatomi Indian came there with orders to Capt. Heald, to evacuate the Fort if possible-the messenger expressed his doubts of the practicability of doing so unless the troops moved off immediately, say the next morning and that by a by rout as the Wabash Potawatomi were disaffected particularly those of Magoquous Villages and would undoubtedly stop them.

Capt. Heald, however, was somewhat distrustful of the Indian and expected Captain William Wells to be with some Miamis. He did not adopt the advice, and the Indian then pressed him through me. I also joined it to go the following day, which he also declined. He was then told he might stay as long as he pleased, and his adviser left him with this. By this time, the Potawatomi began to come in, and the idea of evacuation was known generally and talked of; they professed friendship and assurances that they would conduct the troops safely through, but it was always observed that they all came in a hostile array. In the course of the Councils that were held at this time, Capt. Heald showed the Indians the Arms, Ammunition goods, etc., which were to be given to them for their safe conduct. Things were in this state when Capt. Wells arrived with Miamis about the time that Capt. Heald had determined upon evacuating. Capt. Wells self-advised against it as we had in the fort a sufficiency of Arms Ammunition and c to have sustained the attacks of the Indians even though assisted by the British. It was, however, determined [that the fort be abandoned, I then advised, and Capt Wells agreed with me that the ammunition and liquor ought to be destroyed as the latter would only inflame them and the former would undoubtedly be used in acts of hostility against our people if not against ourselves-to this there was no other objection than Capt. Heald. having already shown it to them, he acknowledged the propriety of the step and freely agreed to adopt any measure I might suggest for justifying him in sight of the Indians for taking it. Strategem was accordingly resorted to, and the business of destruction was immediately commenced. it was intended to throw the powder into the river, but that was prevented by an accident. As I passed out of the Fort at Dusk to wash at the river, two Indians seized hold of me, but perceiving who I was, they desisted from using violence. Their curiosity had been excited by the hammering and bustle in the fort, and they desired to know what was going on. I told them we had been opening pork and flour barrels and preparing to march the next day. This satisfied them for the present, but I perceived they were on the alert and it would be unsafe to attempt throwing the powder in the River, so it was thrown in the well. Tomorrow, we will march by the route to the beach. When we reached the Sand Hillocks beyond those pines (about 2 miles) along shore," Capt. Wells, who was behind, came round in front and spoke to me, observing that we were surrounded. this I had also perceived having seen the Indian Rifles passing round our right as if forming a line to hem us in. He asked what was best to be done. I said we must make the best defense we could, and this was agreed to. The men were faced towards the land and advanced in a line up the bank as they rose. The Indians fired their first volley, and several fell, but the soldiers still preserved their order and pressed upon the Indians into the prairie. In the course of the battle, several desperate encounters took place. Ensign Ronan fought until he struck down the 3rd time, rising each time until he received the fatal blow of a tomahawk, which caused his death.

Sergeant Otho Hays pressed upon a strong Indian [Naunongee] with his bayonet and wounded him in the breast. He endeavored to parry and strike with his tomahawk, but Hays did not kill him but recovered and passed his bayonet through his body, and in this situation, he yet cut down his antagonist with his Tomahawk. Capt. Wells and Dr. Van Voorhees [Voorhis] were killed as well, 28 out of the 56 men, and Capt. Heald was badly wounded when the remainder cut their way into the prairie. In the meantime, others [Indians] had passed around the beach and got among the baggage where the women and children were, and here was perpetrated one of the most shocking scenes of butchery perhaps ever witnessed. Their shrieks of distress, their piteous appeals to father, mother, brothers and husbands for help and their prayers for mercy were there unheard and disavailing. The Tomahawk and knife performed their work without distinctions of age or condition. This scene of havoc lasted for nearly ten minutes. In the early part of the affray, I was in charge of Mrs. Kinzie, who was in my boat. Mrs. Heald and my daughter, Mrs. Helm, who was near me. Mrs. Heald. however, in her terror, soon left me and fled to her Uncle, Capt. Wells, by whose side she received several shot wounds. When the Indians got around to the baggage, some scuffling took place among some of them, which I afterward learned was about killing me. An order, however, was given out among the Indians that they should neither hurt me nor my family. Hearing this, Capt Wells requested his niece return to me, but she still clung to him.

Black Partridge, a Potawatomi Chief, now came forward and, after taking my gun, offered to take us to a place of safety, but my daughter, thinking his intentions hostile, ran at first into the lake but soon returned. I motioned to him to bring Mrs. Heald to us, which he did, and then he conducted us up to that turn of the river above the Fort.

By this time, the Potawatomi sent Le Claire, a messenger, to Capt. Heald demanded his surrender based on the terms asked of Capt. Heald? The messenger did not know, but being a man whom I had brought up and friendly to the Americans, he advised the Capt. not to surrender until they should propose some terms. Capt. Heald accordingly refused to surrender unless they would give a pledge for the lives of the prisoners─this they agreed to with the exception of those who were mortally wounded and the remaining 28 men, some of them badly wounded, were surrendered according to Thomas Burns, whose wounds appeared mortal was Tomahawked by a squaw. Three were killed by a volley fired among a group in consequence of one of them having drawn his knife as if to defend himself, mistaking their intentions when the Indians fired their pieces after the fight in honor of the dead. Several others were dispatched under various pretenses during the afternoon and evening so that probably not more than ten or 12 ultimately escaped the Massacre.  After all was over, the Indian council, among themselves, discussed the disposal of the prisoners. My family and Mrs. Heald allowed me to return to my house. the remaining soldiers were distributed among the different chiefs, and there only remained Capt. Heald to be disposed of. A subject that caused them some discussion. They were inclined to take his life and indeed were emulous among themselves of dispatching him as being the Chief on our side. They complained moreover in a council that he had deceived them by destroying the arms, etc., which he had shown to be delivered out to them, and they had heard that he had poisoned the flour. I answered them on his behalf by showing an order for this destruction and explained to them the obligations of our officers to obey the order of a superior, which they conceived of, I denied the adulteration of the flour and offered to eat of it indeed it wanted but little to convince them that the bearer of this story was a great liar. They acknowledged having deceived us and asked Capt. Heald if he thought the rest of the U.S. would forgive them. It was difficult to say. They knew from past events the pacific disposition of the prest. but if they wished to ask forgiveness, I would exchange hostages, take some of their principal men and go with them for that purpose. They asked Capt. Heald his opinion of the probable continuance and result of our war, to which he gave a suitable reply. In this state, things remained with much anxiety for him on our part when a well-disposed Indian advised me to get him away or he would be killed. I then got a faithful fellow, Chandonnai (the half-breed, staunch friend of the Americans, whom all authorities unite in crediting with noble exertions to save the prisoners) to take Mrs and Capt Heald to St. Joseph, Missouri, in his canoe, which he did though pursued 15 miles by some of them. The present interpreter, Alexander Robinson, took them to Mackinac Island, Michigan.

Some days after, 10 or 12 Indians painted black and armed came across the river to my house, and anticipating their demand, I warned Mrs. Kinzie against the event and encouraged her to meet it with courage. They came and declared their intentions of taking satisfaction of me for Heald's escape. Five Potawatomi Chiefs in the house interceded with them, and they were quieted finally with presents. The treatment of the dead was characteristic of Capt. Wells, and Dr. Van Voorhis. The name of the chief who commanded Black Partridge, reason of his kindness to me, was his son.  Capt. Wells received information the night before we marched that we should be attacked, but we had then given everything away and could not retract. After we were determined to evacuate, the Chiefs used to eat with us every day as we had a superabundance of provisions to make away with. Nuscotnoning [NuscotnemegJ was the author of the massacre. Knowing of the attack, Black Partridge commanded the Miamis, stayed behind, and took no part. They rode past at the beginning of the foray, and one Potawatomi made a short speech to this effect in Potawatomi. I am astonished at your conduct. You have been treacherous with these people you promised to conduct them safely through. You have deceived them and are about to murder them in cold blood-let me advise you to beware-you know not what evil the dead shall bring upon you. You may by and by hear your wives and children cry, and you will not be able to assist them. Potawatomi, beware. I'm saying he rode on. 

John Kinzie's Commentary

Some important verifications, variations and addenda about the massacre and its eyewitnesses can be gleaned from  Douglass' transcription of Kinzie's story. Remembering that only eight years had elapsed since the event, it is worth noting that there are many points of agreement between the story told by Kinzie and those told by his son-in-law (Helm) in  1815 and by his daughter-in-law (Mrs. Juliette Kinzie in her book, "Wau-Bun") in 1844. 

Heald's orders from Hull were to evacuate the fort, destroy the arms and ammunition, and distribute the factory goods among friendly Indians who might thus be persuaded to help escort the evacuees to Fort Wayne. In his report to General Cushing, Heald wrote that his orders were to evacuate the post, to go to Detroit by land, and "at my discretion to dispose of the public property as I thought proper." Whether Heald misread Hull's orders or disobeyed them, his interpretation of them may have caused dissension among the principals involved in the evacuation. 

Helm's narrative stated that the destination of the garrison was either Detroit or Fort Wayne. Mrs. Kinzie mentioned only Fort Wayne; John Kinzie does not indicate the destination, but his mention of Monguago's villages suggests that he had the Fort Wayne route in mind. Both Helm and Mrs. Kinzie declared that the order was to evacuate the fort "if practicable." John Kinzie said the order was to evacuate the fort "if possible." The modifying phrase, of course, made Heald appear intractable when he was really obeying his superior. Winnemac, the messenger, urged that the garrison leave the fort at once and proceed by an unusual route to Fort Wayne, according to Helm and Mrs. Kinzie. Kinzie corroborates this and gives a specific reason for Winnemac's suggestion: the disaffection of the Wabash Potawatomi. 

It is also significant that Kinzie's account agrees with Heald's in an important particular. Both men asserted that the Indians knew of the plan for evacuation of the fort as soon as the garrison officers, Kinzie, even said that the knowledge, presumably given out by the messenger, had brought the outlying Indians to the fort. Mrs. Kinzie, however, stated that Heald refused to leave until "he had collected the Indians of the neighborhood." Kinzie's parallel testimony proves that Heald was unwilling to run head-on into bands of Indians before their feelings and temper could be ascertained through councils.

Helm implied that when Captain Wells arrived and took stock of the provisions for withstanding a siege he thought it foolish to leave the fort. Mrs. Kinzie stated flatly that the junior officers argued with Heald on this point; they wished to stay at the post. Heald's reply was to cite his orders. Thereafter, the junior officers kept aloof, she said. Kinzie also says that he and Wells advised Heald to remain in the fort because of the adequacy of supplies, but he makes no reference to any quarrels between Heald and his staff. Neither Heald nor Griffith mentioned any friction in the garrison force; Schoolcraft did. 

Kinzie says that Heald showed the arms, ammunition and stores to the Indians and told them all was to be divided among them "for their safe conduct." Helm and Mrs. Kinzie asserted that Heald insisted his orders were "to deliver up all public property" to the Indians. Although Hull's order categorically eliminated any such interpretation, it is obvious from Heald's own report that he felt he had discretionary authority where government property was concerned. Heald's interpretation of his orders led the analyst to believe that the reports of Mrs. Kinzie and Helm may be accurate in this circumstance, especially as they are substantiated by John Kinzie. 

According to Mrs. Kinzie, a council was held with the Indians on August 12, which only Heald and Kinzie attended, the other officers declining to go for fear of a trap. At this meeting, she said, Heald proposed to distribute the goods and arms the next day if the Potawatomi would provide an escort. Helm, who asserted that Wells arrived at Fort Dearborn on August 12, described a council between Wells and five hundred warriors on that date. At its conclusion, Wells declared the Indians were hostile and likely to interrupt the evacuation march. Kinzie's narrative mentions "Councils which were held about this time," at which Heald exhibited the arms and supplies that would be given to the Indians for safe conduct. But he specifically sets the time of these councils: before the arrival of Wells. He does not refer to trouble between Heald and his officers but remarks that the Indians always arrived in a "hostile array." In other words, Kinzie partially verifies the stories of Helm and Mrs. Kinzie. 

After Wells arrived and after it was settled that the fort was to be abandoned, the all-important question arose: what to do with the military equipment and liquor? Heald simply stated that he had destroyed the surplus arms, ammunition, and liquor. Was it as simple as that? Mrs. Kinzie said that trader Kinzie remonstrated with Heald on the folly of giving any arms to the savages and won Heald over to his view. She lamented, however, that this decision was reached and executed before Wells appeared, and she implied that Wells would have urged a sit-tight policy had the arms not been destroyed and the provisions distributed. Helm's tale was more detailed, though it contradicted vital parts of Mrs. Kinzie's story: Kinzie and Helm urged Wells to speak to Heald about the munitions; Wells agreed only if the others would go with him. The three pleaded with the captain to dispose of the powder, lead and arms. Heald objected on the grounds that he had ordered "to deliver up to those Indians all the public property of whatsoever nature" and that it was unwise to tell lies to the Indians. They would be irritated. Then, added Helm, Kinzie volunteered to take all responsibility in the matter and quieted Heald's scruples by forging an order from Hull instructing the commanding officer to destroy the arms and ammunition. Helm did not mention liquor. Kinzie says that he and Wells advised the destruction of both ammunition and liquor. Heald's only objection was that the supplies had already been shown to the Indians. Heald, says Kinzie, "freely agreed" to adopt whatever measure would justify him in the eyes of the Indians. "Strategem was accordingly resorted to." Later in Kinzie's account, it develops that the strategy was an "order" for the "destruction" of the munitions. However, the "order" was not used until after the massacre."

What became of the arms, ammunition and liquor? From Mrs. Kinzie: surplus muskets (broken up), shot, flints, gunscrews, and part of the powder and liquor were thrown into the garrison well; the rest of the powder and liquor was thrown into the river. The noise from knocking in the barrel heads aroused suspicions about the Indians, some of whom "crept ... near the scene of action," and the river water, even the following morning, tasted like "strong grog." This violation of Heald's promise inflamed the hostility of the savages to the point of revengeful threats. At a council held with the Indians the day after the destruction of the stores, the chiefs "expressed great indignation at the loss," so said Mrs. Kinzie." Helm made no comment on these subjects. John Kinzie attaches the Indian suspicions directly to himself. At dusk while going from the fort to the river to wash, he was seized by two Indians whose "curiosity had been excited" by the bustle inside the fort. Kinzie's misleading answer satisfied them for the moment, but it was apparent that the powder could not be thrown into the river. It was, instead, dumped into the well. Kinzie says nothing about the liquor; much of it was his, and his decline in prosperity dated from this loss.

There has always been disagreement about the dates and figures involved in the massacre story. Helm and William Griffith claimed that Wells arrived at Fort Dearborn on August 12. Mrs. Kinzie said he came on August 14. Heald put his arrival on August 13, the correct date. Kinzie does not specify a time in the Douglass transcription, but in Schoolcraft's account, Wells is said to have appeared on the thirteenth. Whether Schoolcraft remembered Kinzie or quoted Heald cannot be determined: he probably quoted Heald since he also used Heald's figure of thirty for the number of friendly Miamis accompanying Wells. Kinzie and Helm said twenty-seven Miamis were in the party; Griffith, who is quite inaccurate in all phases of the account, put the number at fifty; and Mrs. Kinzie specified fifteen. Both Helm and Mrs. Kinzie said the destruction of stores took place on the thirteenth, two days before the evacuation. Kinzie substantiates Heald's time, the evening of the fourteenth, in two places: 

"preparing to march next day" and "on the morrow we marched." Thus, Kinzie twice refutes Mrs. Kinzie's contention that Wells reached the fort after the disposal of the arms and provisions.

Reports of incidents of the battle demonstrate the unreliability of eyewitness testimony. With part of the Miamis in the van and the rest in the rear under the leadership of Wells,14 the entire population of Chicago-fifty-four regulars, twelve militia, four officers, and eighteen women and children marched forth from the garrison at nine o'clock on the morning of August 15. About a mile and a half out, the party was surrounded and attacked among the sand hills on the beach. The slaughter was completed in ten (Kinzie) or fifteen (Heald) minutes. 

Who saw what? Who remembered accurately what he had seen? Mrs. Kinzie said Wells, with blackened face betokening his premonition of doom, took the lead." Heald and Kinzie stated that Wells was with the rear guard. Helm wrote that Wells informed them they were surrounded, but he made no reference to the location of the noted scout. Kinzie says that Wells "came round in front" to report that the Indians had surrounded them and asked, "what was best to be done." A plan of defense was agreed upon and at once executed. The plan was to advance the men to the top of the lake bank (Kinzie and Heald concurred in their statements) and cut their way into the prairie (a charge). The Potawatomi killed and wounded several in their first volley as the soldiers came over the crest of the bank; the others were killed in hand-to-hand encounters like those in which Ensign Ronan and Sergeant Hays met their heroic deaths. Mrs. Helm did not give the details of Ronan's gallant struggle, and hers was a more sentimental tale of the Hays-Naunongee duel: Naunongee, she wrote, lived long enough to be carried to Calumet Village, where he repented his act of ingratitude. Though Schoolcraft declared both "fell dead together," there is nothing to prove that Kinzie told him that. Schoolcraft, like Mrs. Kinzie, had an ear for a good yarn. On the other hand, Kinzie says nothing about the craven fear of Dr. Van Voorhis, who is so graphically "observed" by Mrs. Helm as she stands apart watching her husband and father. 

While the battle was in progress, the baggage train was attacked, and the women and children were massacred. When the massacre began, Mrs. Heald and Mrs. Helm were with Kinzie. According to Kinzie, Mrs. Heald fled in terror to her uncle, Captain Wells, where she received her wounds, refusing to return to Kinzie (at her uncle's request") when the Indians were instructed not to harm the Kinzie family. Certainly, he would have given his explorers and hearers (spies) that this had actually occurred. All she did was run into the lake in fright and walk out again. She hardly left her father's side.

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Mrs. Helm's lurid story of her salvation by Black Partridge was pure fabrication if John Kinzie is to be believed. 

Kinzie gives no details of Wells' death. Schoolcraft said his heart was cut out and eaten; Kinzie, as recorded by Douglass, says: "The treatment of the dead was characteristic Capt. Wells, and Dr. Van Voorhis." It is probable that Kinzie told Schoolcraft or Douglass about this. Schoolcraft also said that some of the soldiers' wives fought with swords. If he had learned this from Kinzie, it would have substantiated Mrs. Helm's story of Mrs. Holt. Neither does Kinzie say anything about the mule and whisky ransom of Mrs. Heald. The Potawatomi from whom Mrs. Helm had fled into the lake brought Mrs. Heald, at Kinzie's instruction, to the Kinzie group and then escorted them all to "that turn of the river above the Fort."

Heald and his band of survivors had got to a small elevation in the prairie out of range of the Indian guns. Helm, Griffith and Kinzie gave essentially the same account of the surrender. However, Kinzie cuts the glory from both: Griffith did not conduct the negotiations nor persuade Heald to surrender, and Helm did not have a chance to play leader as his wife boasted. All the arrangements were made between Heald and Black Bird through the one intermediary, Le Claire. However, as did Mrs. Helm, Kinzie insists that the surrender terms did not include the mortally wounded. One of the mortally wounded, Thomas Burns, said Kinzie and Helm were tomahawked by a squaw, not stable-forked (pitchforked) to death as Mrs. Helm reported. 

After the surrender, the Kinzies were allowed to return to their house and take Mrs. Heald with them. Kinzie does not mention any search for the captain's wife as she lay hidden in the boat, nor does he tell of taking a ball from her arm with his penknife." Kinzie was most helpful in arranging Heald's escape. From his account, it is clear that Heald was an unassigned prisoner, i.e., no chief, no tribe had the privilege of killing him. Mrs. Helm's relation of his being released by his Kankakee captor in order that he might accompany Mrs. Heald to St. Joseph was probably embroidery on an already over-decorated tale. The role of Chandonnai, however, in escorting the Healds across the lake is verified by the trader's statements. 

During the days that followed the Healds' departure, the Kinzies were objects of suspicion. Black Partridge and four fellow Potawatomi stayed in the Kinzie house to protect the family. Mrs. Helm told how, the day after the battle, a party of Wabash Potawatomi, unfamiliar with the Kinzie reputation among the neighboring Indians, sent their hope for longevity plummeting. The presence of the five braves was not enough to ensure the safety of any Kinzie. Mrs. Helm was hidden under a featherbed in Ouilmette's house. Only the providential appearance of Billy Caldwell said Mrs. Helm, that stayed the Wabash tomahawks. John Kinzie blows the froth from this legend several days after the battle, and the five Potawatomi chiefs and some presents saved the day nicely.

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Believe it or not, most of Billy Caldwell's history was fabricated. Caldwell claimed to have arrived on the scene just after the battle and saved John Kinzie's and his family's lives, but historians have been unable to verify it.

Finally, Kinzie's version of the reproach of the Potawatomi by the Miamis differs markedly from that of Mrs. Helm. She said the Miamis fled; Kinzie says they rode past the foray. Kinzie's half-Potawatomi gave a more characteristic Indian speech than Mrs. Helm's Miami chief. Kinzie also fails to corroborate the Wau-Bun legend of Black Partridge conscientiously giving up his American medal on the eve of the hostilities. As the trader makes other references to the foreknowledge of the attack, it is unlikely that he would have overlooked this one in retelling the circumstances and incidents of the Fort Dearborn debacle. 

So much for the correspondences and variations between Kinzie's narrative and those of Helm and Mrs. Kinzie. There are several other significant observations to be made about the Kinzie story. In the first place, Kinzie does not mention Helm at all in his account of the disaster. Had the family troubles that resulted in the Helms' divorce in 1829 already, in 1820, become a source of irritation? This may account, in part, for the absence of the anti-Heald bias so evident in the other reports. Kinzie never even hints that there was any friction between Heald and his subordinates; neither does he imply that Heald was a dunderhead. In fact, he seems to give Heald credit for common sense and strict sense of duty, although not always agreeing with his judgment." 

Kinzie's account not only substantiates or denies elements in the existing stories; it also adds much that is new, which has never been figured in any other report of the Fort Dearborn Massacre. Some of the new material is supplemental to information already at hand, and some is wholly original. In the first category fall such items as the statement that Winnemac, after failing to persuade Heald, said "he might stay as long as he pleased" before abandoning the fort; the story of Kinzie leaving the fort to wash and being seized by two suspicious Indians; the information that the chiefs who were gathered about the fort ate with the garrison every day, so great was the quantity of provisions to be consumed; the assertion that Wells received warning of the proposed attack on the night of August 14; the account of Mrs. Heald's flight to Wells, her uncle, during the fight, and of her refusal to return to the Kinzie party; and the order by the Indians not to harm any members of the Kinzie family.

The original material in Kinzie's narrative is especially valuable. From it we learn that Mrs. Helm was neither attacked by one Indian nor saved by another; that three of the soldiers were shot, not tomahawked, as a result of their mistaking the purpose of a salute to the dead; that Black Bird showed kindness to Kinzie because the latter had done some good turn for Black Bird's son. Kinzie is the first to report the post-surrender councils, one held by the Indians to arrange the division of prisoners; another, attended by Kinzie and Heald, to discuss the latter's fate. At this council, the Indians complained of being cheated out of the arms Heald promised them and accused him of poisoning the flour. The complaints were countered by Kinzie, who showed them the order to destroy the arms and offered to eat the flour. Then the Indians inquired about the chances of being forgiven by the president, and Kinzie offered to act with them if they wished to ask the president's pardon. Heald was asked about the probable outcome of the war and gave a "suitable reply." 

In the Kinzie narrative, we learn for the first time about the Indian plot to kill Heald. Mrs. Helm told a somewhat different story of his being released by his captor in order to accompany his wife, an incredible example of Indian chivalry. Kinzie's story rings more true-especially as he adds a piece of supporting evidence, the pursuit of Chandonnai's canoe by disgruntled Indians for some fifteen miles.

Mrs. Heald had sewn several hundred dollars in paper money into a short inner jacket that the captain wore under his uniform. When Heald was stripped of his military clothes, he still had the funds on him. Kinzie's explanation of the ruse employed to secure the money gives us another glittering facet in an already many-faceted plot. 

Even after two hundred and eleven years, the story still grips the readers' attention. We can be grateful that Douglass, himself a veteran of the War of 1812, encouraged Kinzie to recount the tale, even though it has lain buried in ancestral files through the intervening years. 

The Journal of the Illinois State Historian Society, Winter 1953

Edited by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D.