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Tuesday, April 16, 2024

The Greek Settlement of Chicago in the 1840s and Beyond.

The Chicago Greeks showed unwavering determination, resilience, and a passionate love for their heritage. From the humble beginnings of those early mariners to the vibrant presence of today's Greektown, their tale enriches the mosaic of Chicago's history.

The Pioneering Years (1840s1871)
The story begins amidst the bustling maritime trade routes of the 1840s. Hardy Greek sailors, drawn by the promise of Chicago and the Great Lakes, navigated the mighty Mississippi River, leaving New Orleans behind to get to Chicago. Reaching the headwaters of the Illinois River and then its tributary, the Des Plaines River, these intrepid adventurers faced the critical portage. The area around present-day Chicago offered the shortest and most manageable overland route, a testament to the region's strategic importance. After their portage, the Chicago River leads to Lake Michigan. Many of these immigrants sought a better life and their fortunes in commerce, thus laying the groundwork for future waves of migration.

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This arduous journey highlights why completing the Illinois and Michigan Canal in 1848 transformed regional transportation. The canal eliminated the need for the portage, making the trip from the Mississippi to Chicago significantly faster and more efficient. These seafaring pioneers, with hearts as vast as the Great Lakes, laid the foundation for a vibrant Greek legacy to take root in the heart of America. Some of these immigrants sought their fortunes in commerce, laying the groundwork for a future wave of migration.

The Great Chicago Fire and Building a Community (1871Turn of the Century)
The cataclysmic fires in October 1871, the October 7 "Saturday Night Fire," struck Chicago in the evening, then came the October 8 Great Chicago Fire, devastating Chicago's business district. 

These fires ravaged Chicago, but they also became a catalyst for a surge in Greek immigration. News of Chicago's rebuilding efforts spread worldwide, attracting Greeks seeking opportunities in a city rising from the ashes. 

Greektown's founding father was Christ Chakonas, born in Sparta (modern-day Sparta is located in Laconia, Greece) and arrived in Chicago shortly after the Great Fire of 1871. Seeing opportunity in its ashes, he returned to his hometown and brought over relatives and neighbors, according to the late DePaul University professor Andrew T. Kopan. For that, Chakonas is remembered as the "Columbus of Sparta."

Chain migration, fueled by tales of success and family reunification, spurred the arrival of significant numbers of Greeks, primarily young men driven to build a new life.

These new Chicagoans initially congregated around the city's vibrant commercial districts. However, by 1882, the Greek settlement of Chicago was a thriving community numbering nearly 1,000 people near Clark and Kinzie Streets on the Near North Side.

From there, the settlement moved to the Greek Delta. The triangle formed by Halsted, Harrison, and Blue Island Streets became known as the "Greek Delta," a triangular letter of the Greek alphabet. It was a bustling hub where echoes of Greece mingled with the energy of Chicago.

Flourishing Institutions and Traditions
Within this budding Greek Delta, the foundations of community life took shape. The first Greek Orthodox Church in the Midwest, Holy Trinity, was established in 1897, providing a spiritual anchor. Alongside the church emerged businesses catering to their Greek clientele – coffeehouses, restaurants, and grocery stores stocked with flavors from their homeland.

The Greek Delta teemed with life. The scents of roasting lamb and the spirited sounds of Greek music filled the air. Coffeehouses buzzed with discussions about news from back home and dreams for the future. Greek schools, created to preserve language and culture for the next generation, sprung up. Organizations and societies flourished, fostering a sense of unity and providing vital support.

The Evolution of Greektown
As the Greek community expanded – reaching nearly 30,000 strong by 1930 – the Greek Delta became lovingly known as "Greektown." It remained the nucleus of Greek-American life in Chicago for decades. Here, traditions were nurtured, businesses thrived, and a vibrant cultural landscape was woven into the city's fabric.

Urban Renewal and the Modern Greektown (1960sPresent)
The 1960s brought a period of upheaval for Greektown. The construction of the Eisenhower Expressway and the University of Illinois at Chicago encroached upon the heart of the neighborhood, displacing longtime residents and businesses. Yet, the Greeks of Chicago proved resilient. Despite dispersal to other parts of the city ─ neighborhoods like Lincoln Square, Ravenswood, and the South Side ─ Greektown endured. 
The Greek Independence Parade was held downtown until the 1990s.


Determined to preserve their heritage, a relocated Greektown took root just a few blocks north towards the current location along Halsted Street. The businesses, cultural institutions, and the moniker "Greektown" moved with them. 

Iconic restaurants offering specialties like gyros (first served in America in Chicago) and saganaki (flaming cheese) became culinary magnets, attracting locals and tourists alike. The annual Chicago "Taste of Greektown" festival emerged in 1990 as a joyous celebration of Greek culture, complete with traditional food, drink, dance, and music, drawing huge crowds.
1990 was the First Annual Chicago "Taste of Greektown" Festival.


Today, Greektown, adorned with classical Greek architectural elements, is a testament to the enduring spirit of Chicago's Greek community. It remains a cherished destination where the legacy of the early Greek pioneers reverberates amidst the dynamism of a modern American city.

The story of the Greeks in Chicago is one of unwavering determination, resilience, and a passionate love for their heritage. From the humble beginnings of those early mariners to the vibrant presence of today's Greektown, their tale enriches the mosaic of Chicago's history.

Copyright © 2024, Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D.

Sunday, September 10, 2023

Lewis and Clark, the Entire Story.

                   Meriwether Lewis                                           William Clark


Prelude: 1803 to May 1804
In 1803, President Thomas Jefferson won approval from Congress for a visionary project that was to become one of American history's greatest adventure stories. 

Jefferson wanted to know if Americans could journey overland to the Pacific Ocean by following two rivers, the Missouri and Columbia Rivers. He knew both rivers flowed from the Rocky Mountains; the Missouri River flows east from the Rockies, and the Columbia River flows west to the Pacific Ocean.

If the sources of the rivers were near one another, Jefferson reasoned that American traders could use that route to compete with British fur companies pressing southward from Canada.

On February 28, 1803, Congress appropriated funds for a small U.S. Army unit to explore the Missouri and Columbia Rivers. The explorers were to make detailed reports on the land's geography, climate, plants, and animals, as well as to study the customs and languages of the Indians. Plans for the Expedition were almost complete when the President learned that France had offered to sell all Louisiana Territory to the United States. This transfer, which was completed within a year, doubled the area of the United States. It meant that Jefferson's army Expedition could travel to the crest of the Rockies on American soil, no longer needing permission from the former French owners.

Jefferson selected an Army captain, 28-year-old Meriwether Lewis, as the Expedition's leader. The Jeffersons and Lewises had been neighbors near Charlottesville, Virginia, where Lewis was born on August 18, 1774. As a boy, he had spent time in the woods, acquiring a remarkable knowledge of native plants and animals. In 1794, he served in the Virginia Militia when President Washington called it out to quell the Whiskey Rebellion. Lewis had a successful army career when, in 1801, the newly elected Jefferson summoned him to work as his private Secretary in the "President's House."

Lewis chose a former Army comrade, 32-year-old William Clark, to co-leader the Expedition. Clark was born on August 1, 1770, in Caroline County, Virginia. At 14, his family moved to Kentucky, where they were among the earliest settlers. William Clark was the youngest brother of General George Rogers Clark, a hero of the Revolutionary War. William served under General "Mad Anthony" Wayne during the Indian wars in the Northwest Territory.
Lewis prepared for the Expedition and visited President Jefferson's scientific associates in Philadelphia for natural sciences, astronomical navigation, and field medicine instruction. He was also given a list of questions about their daily lives to ask the American Indians that they would meet. During these preparations, Lewis purchased "Seaman," his pure-breed Newfoundland dog, to accompany him to the Pacific for $20 ($520 today).
Camp River Dubois, the Lewis and Clark State Historic Site, Hartford, Illinois.


Lewis and Clark reached their staging point at the confluence of the Mississippi and Missouri rivers near St. Louis in December 1803. They camped through the winter at the mouth of Wood River on the Illinois side of the Mississippi River and the confluence of the Missouri River. The two captains recruited young woodsmen and enlisted soldiers who volunteered from nearby army outposts. Over the winter, final selections were made of proven men. The Expedition's roster comprised approximately 45 people in the spring, including some military personnel and local boatmen who would go partway up the Missouri River with the Expedition. Lewis recorded that the mouth of Wood River was "to be considered the point of departure" for the westward journey.
Camp River Dubois State Historic Site, Hartford, Illinois.



Lower Missouri: May 1804 to April 1805
The Expedition broke camp on May 14, 1804. Clark wrote in his journal: "I set out at 4 o'clock P.M and proceeded on under a gentle breeze up the Missouri River." The party traveled in a 55-foot-long keelboat and two smaller boats called "pirogues." Through the long, hot summer, they laboriously worked their way upriver. Numerous navigational hazards slowed their progress, including sunken trees called "sawyers," sand bars, collapsing river banks, and sudden squalls of high winds with drenching rains. There were other problems, including disciplinary floggings, two desertions, a man dishonorably discharged for mutiny, and the death of Sgt. Charles Floyd was the only member to die during the Expedition. In modern-day South Dakota, a band of Teton Sioux tried to detain the boats, but the explorers showed their superior armaments and sailed on.

Early in November, they came to the villages of the Mandan and Minitari (Hidatsa) Indians, who lived near present-day Washburn, North Dakota. On the north bank of the Missouri River, they found a grove of thick cottonwood trees to construct a log fort. Standing close together, the trees also offered protection from the prairie winds.

In four weeks of hard work, the men built a triangular-shaped fort. Rows of small huts made up two sides; a wall of upright cottonwood logs formed the front. They named it Fort Mandan in honor of the local inhabitants. The party was now 164 days and approximately 1,510 miles from Wood River.

The explorers spent five months at Fort Mandan, hunting and obtaining information about the route ahead from the Indians and French-Canadian traders who lived nearby. The Expedition's blacksmiths set up a forge and made tools and implements, traded for the American Indian's garden crops of corn, melons, and beans. A French-Canadian named Toussaint Charbonneau visited the captains with his young pregnant Shoshone wife, Sacagawea.

Sacagawea's tribal homeland lay in the Rocky Mountain country, far to the west. She had been kidnapped by plains Indians five years before, when she was about twelve years old, and taken to the villages of the Mandan and Minitari, where she was eventually sold to Charbonneau. Sacagawea spoke both Shoshone and Minitari, and the captains realized that she could be a valuable intermediary if the party encountered the Shoshones. They also knew that she and Charbonneau could be helpful in trading for the horses that would be needed to cross the western mountains. In addition, Sacagawea and her baby would prove to be a token of truce, assuring the Indians that the Expedition was peaceful. While descending the Columbia River, Clark later noted, "No woman ever accompanies a war party of Indians in this quarter." As a result, the captains hired Charbonneau, who was joined by Sacagawea and their infant son Jean Baptiste Charbonneau, born at Fort Mandan on February 11, 1805. The boy became a favorite of Clark, whom he nicknamed "Pomp," citing his pompous "little dancing boy" antics.

Upper Missouri: April 1805 to July 1805
Moving up the river from the Mandan villages, they passed the confluence of the Yellowstone with the Missouri River. They entered a country where Lewis observed "immense herds of Buffaloes, Elk, Deer and Antelopes feeding in one common and boundless pasture." Grizzly Bears charged the men hunting them.

Lewis said he would "rather fight two Indians than one bear." River navigation became more difficult. During a fierce windstorm, the pirogue that carried vital records and instruments filled with water and nearly capsized. Sacagawea, who was aboard, saved many items as they floated within her reach. Near the end of May, the Rocky Mountains came into view.

The river's current grew stronger. The explorers had to abandon the paddles and tow the heavy canoes with rawhide ropes while walking along the shoreline. When river banks gave way to cliffs, the men had to wade in the water, pushing and pulling the boats upstream.

In early June, the explorers reached a point where the Missouri River divided equally into northerly and southerly branches. They spent nine days concluding that the south branch was the true Missouri. Lewis named the "Marias River" north fork and scouted ahead with a small advance party following the south fork until he heard waterfalls. The Indians at Fort Mandan had told them about the falls of the Missouri River, so Lewis knew he was on the right stream.

In the vicinity of present-day Great Falls, Montana, the Expedition had to portage 18 miles around a series of five cascades of the Missouri River. The men attached cottonwood wheels to the canoes to push them overland. The weather was hot, with intermittent squalls pelting the party with large, bruising hailstones.

Transporting the heavy boats and baggage up the steep incline from the river and traversing the long stretch of prairie lands was exhausting. Prickly pear spines penetrated their feet through moccasin soles, adding to the difficult and exhausting portage.

After three weeks of shuttling canoes and baggage along this portage, a camp was established above the falls at "White Bear Island." They had brought along a metal framework over which they stretched hides to make a large, light boat to resume their journey on the river. The plan failed when stitches in the hides leaked water, and they had to abandon the framework and make two more cottonwood canoes.

West of the Divide: July 1805 to November 1805
On July 25, the Expedition arrived, where the Missouri River was divided into three forks. They named the southeast branch the "Gallatin" for the Secretary of the Treasury, and the southerly one was called the "Madison" for the Secretary of State. The westerly branch became the "Jefferson" River, "in honor of that illustrious personage Thomas Jefferson, President of the United States."

Because it flowed from the west, the captains decided to follow the Jefferson River. Learning from Sacagawea that they were now within the traditional food-gathering lands of her people, Lewis went ahead to look for the Shoshones. He reached a spring in the mountains in mid-August, which he called "the most distant fountain" of the Missouri River. Just beyond was a saddle in a high ridge (today's Lemhi Pass), from which Lewis saw towering, snow-covered mountains to the west. A brook at his feet ran westward, and he knew he had crossed the Continental Divide. The brook was one of many tributary streams of today's Snake River, joining the Columbia River.

Immediately west of the Continental Divide, Lewis came upon two Shoshone women and a girl digging edible roots. Lewis gave them presents, and soon, they were joined by a large number of Shoshone men on horseback. Lewis rejoined Clark and the main party, returning from this scouting trip accompanied by several Shoshones. The explorers formed a camp with the Indians a few miles south of present-day Dillon, Montana, called "Camp Fortunate." Here, Sacagawea found a childhood girlfriend. The girl had been with Sacagawea when both were captured but had escaped and returned to her people. Sacagawea learned that her brother, Cameahwait, was now chief of the tribe. It was an emotional scene when brother and sister were reunited.

Thinking ahead to their return journey, Captain Lewis ordered the canoes submerged to "guard against both the effects of high water and that of fire the Indians promised to do them no intentional injury." The party then proceeded across the Continental Divide to the main village of the Shoshones. With Sacagawea providing vital service as an interpreter, a Shoshone guide was hired, and trading with the Indians for riding and pack horses was successful. After a short stay, the now horse-mounted corps followed their guide, Old Toby, into the "formidable mountains."

September found the half-starved explorers surviving on horse meat while following the Lolo Trail's ancient Indian route across the Bitterroot Mountains in modern Montana and Idaho. During an early-season snowstorm, they encountered fallen timber, bone-chilling cold, and slippery, hazardous travel. Descending the west slope of the mountains, they reached a village of the Nez Perce.

Here, the natives provided a salmon, roots, and berries feast. The ravenous explorers found, to their dismay, that this unaccustomed diet made them extremely ill.

The group reached today's Clearwater River, where they branded and left their horses in the care of the Nez Perce until their return. They built new canoes and proceeded through boulder-strewn rapids, making speedy but risky progress. They reached the Snake River and then the Columbia River on October 16. They floated down that mighty river reaching the now inundated "Great Falls of the Columbia" (Celilo Falls) near the modern Oregon town of The Dalles. Here, and also when confronted by the raging rapids within the Cascade Mountains that Clark called the "Great Shute," they again were forced into toilsome portages.

On November 2, they drifted into the quiet upper reaches of tidewater on the Columbia. On November 7, Clark wrote: "Great joy in camp we are in view of the Ocean, this great Pacific Ocean which we have been so long anxious to see." They were still 25 miles upstream and saw the storm-lashed waves of the river's broad estuary.

For the next nine days, savage winds blew, ocean swells rolled into the river, and the rain poured down, stranding them in unprotected camps just above the tide at the base of cliffs. In mid-November, the captains finally strode upon the sands of the Pacific Ocean near the Columbia's mouth, the western objective of their journey. Clark recorded that 554 days had elapsed, and 4,132 miles had been traveled since leaving Wood River.

Pacific Ocean: November 1805 to March 1806
Captain Lewis carried a letter of credit signed by Jefferson, guaranteeing payment for the explorers' return by sea via any American or foreign merchant ship encountered in the Columbia River estuary. They saw no ships upon reaching the ocean, nor as their records reveal, would any enter the turbulent river entrance during their four-month stay at the coast. In truth, the captains never seriously intended to return by sea, preferring to establish a camp close to the coast instead. They hoped to obtain from trading ships "a fresh Supply of Indian trinkets to purchase provisions on our return home."

Due to the absence of game and their unprotected exposure to fierce winter storms on the Columbia (Washington State) north shore, the party crossed the river to the south side (Oregon), where Indians informed them elk and deer were numerous. An actual vote of the members was recorded, representing the first American democratically held election west of the Rockies that included the vote of a woman, Sacagawea, and a Negro-American man, York.

Crossing the river, they built their 1805-06 winter quarters on a protected site five miles south of modern Astoria, Oregon, naming it Fort Clatsop for their neighbors, the Clatsop Indians. The men spent the winter hunting elk for food and making elk skin clothing and moccasins to replace their worn buckskins.

Lewis filled his journal with descriptions of plants, birds, mammals, fish, and amphibians, weather data, and detailed information on Indian cultures. Clark drew illustrations of many animals and plants and brought his maps of the journey up to date. Sacagawea joined Clark and a few men on a coast trip to procure oil and blubber from a "monstrous fish," a whale washed up on the beach. They visited the Expedition's salt-making camp at present-day Seaside, Oregon, where several men kept a continuous fire burning for nearly a month, boiling seawater, to produce twenty gallons of salt.

Return Journey: March 1806 to September 1806
On March 23, 1806, the explorers started back up the Columbia in newly acquired Indian canoes. At the Great Falls of the Columbia River, they bartered with local Indians for pack horses and set out up the river's north shore on foot. The party obtained riding horses from various tribes along the way and reached the Nez Perce villages in May. While camped among the Nez Perce for a month, waiting for the high mountain snows to melt, the captains gave frontier medical treatment to sick and injured Indians in exchange for native foods.

The Nez Perce rounded up the Expedition's horses that they had cared for over the winter, easing the captains' concern for adequate transportation as the party resumed its eastward travel in early June. Retracing their outbound trail through the Bitterroots, they were turned back by impassable snowdrifts and made their only "retrograde march" of the entire journey. After a week's delay, they started out again and successfully crossed the mountains. On June 30, they arrived at their outbound "Travelers Rest" camp, eleven miles south of modern Missoula, Montana, where they enjoyed a welcome rest from their toils.

On July 3, 1806, the party separated. With nine men, Lewis rode directly east to the Great Falls of the Missouri River. Then, with three men, he traveled north to explore the Marias River almost to the present Canadian border. Lewis and his companions camped overnight with some Blackfeet Indians, who attempted to steal the explorers' guns and drive off their horses at daylight. In describing the ensuing skirmish, Lewis related that he was fired upon by an Indian, which resulted in a near-miss that "I felt the wind of the bullet very distinctly." Lewis afterward would elaborate that two of the Blackfeet were killed during the brief encounter but that he and his companions miraculously escaped unharmed.

Meanwhile, with the balance of the party, Clark proceeded southeasterly on horseback, crossing the Rockies through today's Gibbons Pass. Returning to the Jefferson River (now the Beaverhead River in its upper reach), the submerged canoes were recovered and repaired. Clark placed some men in charge of the canoes while the others continued on with the horses, all following the river downstream to the Three Forks junction of the Missouri River.

Here, the group is divided. The canoe travelers continued down the Missouri River to White Bear Island, where they recovered their cached equipment and portaged back around the falls. With the remainder, Clark rode their horses easterly to explore the Yellowstone River. While the Expedition was again passing through the Shoshone lands, Sacagawea remembered from her childhood, Clark praised her "great service to me as a pilot."

Upon reaching Yellowstone, new canoes were made. Clark assigned three men to drive the horses overland while he and the others drifted down the river. On July 25, 1806, Clark named an unusual rock formation on the south bank of the Yellowstone River (Montana) "Pompy's Tower" in honor of Sacagawea's son.

The parties were reunited on August 12 near the confluence of the Yellowstone and the Missouri rivers. Here, Clark learned that Lewis had been shot while searching for game in the brushy shoreline of the Missouri River. In his buckskin clothing, Captain Lewis was mistaken for an elk by Pierre Cruzatte. Clark treated and dressed the wound with medicines they carried.

Arriving at the Mandan villages on August 17, the Charbonneau family was mustered out of the Expedition. At his request, Private John Colter was discharged to join a fur trapping party bound up the Missouri River. The remainder of the party, accompanied by a Mandan chief and his family, headed down the Missouri River on the last leg of the homeward journey.

After September 23, 1806
On September 23, 1806, the tattered Corps of Discovery arrived at St. Louis and "received a hearty welcome from its inhabitants." Jefferson's explorers had covered 8,000 miles of territory over 2 years, 4 months, and 9 days. Its records contributed important information concerning the land, natural resources, and native peoples. Lewis and Clark learned that the surprising width of the Rocky Mountains chain destroyed Jefferson's hoped-for route between the Missouri and Columbia River systems. This finding resulted in a passage over what is now South Pass (Wyoming) during later trips westward by fur traders and other explorers. Despite difficulties, Lewis and Clark remained friends after the Expedition. Congress rewarded the officers and men of the military enterprise, including Toussaint Charbonneau, with land grants. Neither Sacagawea nor York received compensation for their services.

On February 28, 1807, President Jefferson picked Lewis as Governor of the Upper Louisiana Territory. His career started well, but controversy involving government finances arose in 1809, culminating with his decision to travel to Washington, D.C., to resolve the dispute. Traveling through Tennessee, Governor Meriwether Lewis, on October 11, 1809, died mysteriously from gunshot wounds inflicted while at Grinder's Stand, a public roadhouse. It is not known conclusively whether he was murdered or committed suicide. His grave lies where he died, within today's Natchez Trace National Parkway near Hohenwald, Tennessee.

Clark enjoyed a lifelong, honorable career in public service in St. Louis. On March 12, 1807, Jefferson commissioned him Brigadier General of Militia and Indian Agent for Upper Louisiana Territory. In 1813, he was appointed Governor of Missouri Territory, which he held until Missouri Statehood in 1820. In 1822, he was appointed Superintendent of Indian Affairs by President Monroe. He was reappointed to this post by each succeeding President and served in this capacity for the remainder of his life. General William Clark died of natural causes in St. Louis on September 1, 1838, and is buried in the Clark Family plot at Bellefontaine Cemetery, St. Louis. 


Compiled by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D.

Wednesday, April 26, 2023

The 1833 Winnebago Murder Trial in Frontier Illinois.

Indians of the Great Lakes region subscribed to a kinship-centered system of justice.  

In the case of murder, the victim's family was obligated to retaliate in kind against the perpetrator's family unless the presentation of a suitable gift could be arranged to "cover the dead," that is, assuage the aggrieved relatives. Similar customs applied as well to intertribal killings, and quite naturally, Indians expected to continue their practice of justice in whatever conflicts would arise with white settlers. In doing so, they were frustrated by the Anglo-American legal system, in which, rather than the family, administered justice. One such confrontation in frontier Illinois occurred when Winnebago Indians attempted to assert their ethos in coping with the intrusion of whites into the upper Mississippi Valley.

The Winnebagos were a Siouan-speaking people encountered by the French in the Green Bay vicinity in the early 1600s. Over the next two centuries, members of the tribe pursued the fur trade throughout south-central Wisconsin and northwestern Illinois along the Rock River and its tributaries. In the War of 1812, several Winnebago bands fought alongside the British and their allies, Tecumseh and the Shawnee Prophet. Later, leaders of the bands were upset when they learned that their British allies had made peace with the Americans. The leaders remained disgruntled when Superintendent of Indian Affairs William Clark invited them to send a peacemaking delegation to his headquarters at St. Louis. Still influenced by British traders, they were not anxious to acknowledge fealty to the Americans. While at least one band of Winnebago under Choukeka (Spoon or Ladle) Decora signed the June 3, 1816, treaty of amity, other bands refused. 

Tensions increased as lead miners, traders, and military men penetrated Winnebago lands. The newcomers commonly assessed the Winnebago demeanor as fiercely independent, resistant to "civilization," sullen, and aloof. 

American officials expressed irritation that the disaffected Winnebago bands continued to make seasonal visits to British posts at Fort Maiden across the strait from Detroit and at Drummond Island at the northern end of Lake Huron. There they received presents and encouragement from sympathetic British commanders.

American efforts at stopping the trips could have been more effective. Colonel Joseph Lee Smith, commander of the Third Infantry Regiment at Fort Howard (Green Bay), regarded the Winnebagos as "vicious," "active," and having a "mischievous character." As proof, in January 1820, he related the following example of Winnebago's duplicity with the British. A band claiming they were bound for Mackinac had stopped making friendly statements States. On departing, however, instead, Drummond obtained British gifts; on bypassed Fort Howard. Discovered and destroyed a hill near Lake Winnebago Green Bay. He argued that only the presence of an intimidating force of Americans would hold in check the tribe's "evil and unfriendly propensities."

At about the same time, traders and government officials at Green Bay experienced hostility as they attempted to cross waterways near Winnebago villages. An Indian from a village at Lake Winnebago fired a shot that pierced the awning of a boat carrying Captain William Whistler, his three children, and four or five soldiers. The boat flew the American flag. Whistler stopped the vessel and ordered his interpreter to make inquiries. The Winnebago declared that they controlled the route and that no vessel could pass without their permission. As no one was injured and because Whistler did not wish to press matters at that point, he and his party proceeded unmolested.

In retaliation for the harassment, John Bowyer, the Indian agent at Green Bay, soon arrested The Smoker, a visiting "great chief of the Winnebagos." Replying to Bowyer's interrogation, The Smoker professed ignorance of the attack but stated that if the reports proved true, he would bring in the band's leader (who, in the meantime, had reportedly gone on a hunt up the Mississippi) "before the Ice [is] made." With that guarantee, Bowyer released The Smoker and announced that the first chief who approached the fort would be imprisoned if the matter were not resolved by spring. 
Lewis Cass, Governor of Michigan Territory from 1813 to 1831.
In a letter to Michigan Territorial Governor Lewis Cass, Bowyer described the Winnebagos as "unfriendly to the Government." He cautioned that "their character with the white and red people are bad, they are great liars and robbers" and that "no dependence can be placed in what they say."

Bowyer's reports described several confrontations. A boat belonging to a trader named Ermatinger was shot in the mast while crossing Lake Winnebago. On the Fox River, an army surgeon reported that he had been treated "insolently" by Winnebagos, who seized and searched his baggage. Nothing short of placing a strong garrison at the Fox-Wisconsin portage, Bowyer insisted, would "keep this tribe in order."

In the spring of 1820, Thomas Forsyth, an agent at Rock Island, reported to Clark that the Winnebagos had been "daring and impudent" in the vicinity of Fort Armstrong, killing government-owned cattle and repeatedly stealing corn from the Sauks. Clark showed little inclination to trust a delegation of principal men from a Rock River Winnebago band who met him in St. Louis "on a visit of inquiry and friendly professions." In passing on Forsyth's report, Clark claimed to Secretary of War John Caldwell Calhoun that "no confidence can be placed in this vicious Tribe" because "they have later been very insolent and even threatened Fort Armstrong after having killed their cattle." Clark asserted that a lesson for the Winnebago renegades was long overdue, for "they appear not to have any respect for our government, and friendly councils have never produced any favorable effect in preventing their excesses." 
John Caldwell Calhoun, U.S. Secretary of War.


To Forsyth, Clark urged vigilance, yet he admitted that he did not know what the federal government intended to do about the murderers. In April 1820, when Governor Lewis Cass was embarking on a tour of the Northwest, Calhoun reminded him that "certain individuals of the Winnebagoes, Chippewas, and Menomonee have evinced a hostile spirit, which must be repressed." In consultation with each tribe, wrote Calhoun, Cass should "represent to them the desire of the Government to cultivate friendly dispositions towards them, but which cannot be continued unless they effectually restrain the hostile conduct of their people."

In July, the scholarly Jedidiah Morse spent fifteen days in the vicinity of Green Bay on an expedition authorized by the War Department. In his final report, Morse stated that he found it difficult to obtain reliable information on the Winnebagos, partly because of the language barrier and partly because "no other tribe seems to possess so much jealousy of the whites, and such reluctance to have intercourse with them." Morse also commented on Winnebago's sense of territoriality. He confirmed that "they will suffer no encroachment upon their soil; nor any persons to pass through it, without giving a satisfactory explanation of their motives and intentions." Whites who failed to take that customary and precautionary step, said Morse, endangered their lives.

At the time, Morse's antipathy towards whites bated to a "state of consideration." Two young warriors' relatives had been accused of the murder and scalping of two soldiers just outside the gates of Fort Armstrong. Both Indian and white behavior during the episode is well documented in letters and reports, and a close analysis of those records reveals important cultural divergence in the matters of retributive justice and punishment. 

Francis Paul Prucha observes in his study of United States Indian policy that normal federal procedure in the early 1820s was to demand that accused Indians be surrendered by tribal leaders. If the chiefs resisted, various threats, military expeditions, seizure of hostages, or rewards to cooperative Indians generally achieved the purpose.

To American authorities, the murder and scalping of John Blottenburgh and Clement Attley Riggs, two unarmed soldiers on a woodcutting detail, appeared a wantonly savage act. Leaders of the suspected Winnebago bands were summoned and ordered to surrender the culprits. Calhoun directed Cass and Indian Agent Richard Graham to clarify to Winnebago leaders that such atrocities would not be regarded with impunity. Unless the chiefs demonstrated their loyalty by promptly surrendering the "wicked authors" of the crime, the government would consider the chiefs as participants in guilt, and the entire Winnebago nation would be "made to feel the just vengeance and retribution of the Government." Calhoun asserted that it was the responsibility of the chiefs to avert "disastrous consequences and annihilation." Indian gestures of friendship, while expected, were insufficient; the murderers had to be handed over to federal authorities.

Calhoun, however, urged restraint. Rather than overreact to frontier reports of a contemplated general Winnebago attack on Fort Armstrong, he described the killings as the work of a few individuals acting "without the knowledge or authority of the Chiefs." The latter, he correctly predicted, would "disavow it, or any hostility on the part of their nation towards the United States, but take the most prompt and active measures to cause the perpetrators to be arrested and delivered for punishment." 
Lieutenant Colonel Henry Leavenworth
Although his frontier commanders ─ impatient with slow-moving courts and aware of the difficulties of assembling creditable witnesses ─ often preferred summary execution by firing squad, Calhoun ordered that the accused Winnebagos be transferred to civil authorities. Lieutenant Colonel Henry Leavenworth, who had been summoned from Fort Snelling for the investigation, grumbled: "It would have been better to have executed them and then have tried them ─ If they are tried, they must be executed, or we shall feel the weight of the Winnebago Tomahawk." 

To ensure compliance, the Army seized four Winnebagos as hostages. They were released when the chiefs, as promised, brought three men to Prairie du Chien, "preceded by a white flag, and attended by a large concourse of the tribe." The next day Prairie du Chien justices of the peace interrogated the three Indians while the chiefs looked on. 

All three of the prisoners belonged to Winnebago bands on the Rock River. In the spring of 1820, they had set out for Fort Armstrong, ostensibly as traders. Sometimes en route, the eldest, Chewachera [or Chewacuhra], implored the other two's assistance in avenging the death of his sister and her husband, who the Indians claimed was attacked and left to drown by American soldiers. One of the warriors was as young as fifteen, and the other was Chewachera's nephew and therefore bound by custom to obey his commands. Jerago, the youngest of the trio, said that he resisted because he knew the act's consequences and their agent would be angry. He cried and begged the others to "forget our Relations that the Americans had killed." After unsuccessfully attempting to wrest the guns from his companions, he fired shots to alert his mother and thwart the plan. Jerago would not disavow his loyalty to his fellow tribesmen in yielding to interrogation. "They went off and killed two soldiers," he said. "I did not wish to be drawn into this business, but since I have had Irons put upon my hands, which hurts me, I will remain with them."

According to stories told separately by each prisoner, there had been no elaborate scheme for ambushing officers at the fort; the act was premeditated only one day. Wading from their camp on the east bank of the river to the island on which the fort stood, the three determined to lie in wait for someone to come out. If no one appeared after a considerable time, they resolved to forego revenge and simply enter the fort, shake hands, and have a friendly smoke ─ the original preference of the two younger men. But when Blottenburgh and Riggs appeared, the warriors shot them, and Chewachera bashed their heads with the back of an axe and scalped them. The three headed back up Rock River without stopping to stretch the scalps on a hoop. En route to their village, they were taunted by their tribesmen for their rash act. Chewachera and his nephew Whorahjinka were "so much cursed" at their lodge that they unceremoniously threw away the Soldiers' scalps.

Winnebago society placed restrictions on individuals who wished to seek retribution. Permission had to be secured from the chiefs. Warriors who failed to receive that permission, or refused to pursue it, subjected themselves to the only restrictive measures that the chief and the community could adopt ─ temporary loss of prestige, the sort of treatment suffered by the three Winnebago.

Chewachera openly admitted his guilt. He absolved the other two of murderous intent and corroborated their versions of the affair. He did, however, amplify his reasons for revenge:

I knew that my sister had been ill-used below I did not think any more of that. I never had any ill intentions until I heard that my sister had been abused ─ Women ought to be respected. My Father did not encourage any person to use women ill. But my sister had been ill-treated. . . and when I came near the place where it was done, I lost my senses and did a bad act I have done it I delivered up my body to the Chiefs what more can I say.

Whorahjinka added that when they were leaving their lodges, the women had cried on behalf of the slain relatives, and the recollection of that scene helped to trigger the killing of the soldiers. Twice he tried to prevent the contemplated act but finally acquiesced because "my body belonged to my Uncle. I was obliged to do as he did or told me to do."

In an effort to ascertain the facts and project an impartial posture, White authorities attested to the veracity of the interpreters used in the proceedings. One of them, an Indian of an unspecified tribe known as Fast Walker, satisfied the whites before he was sworn in that he knew the purpose and obligations attached to an oath, stating that the Great Spirit would not forgive him ─ even beyond the grave ─ should he lie under oath. When asked the customary way in which to bind an Indian's word, Fast Walker replied, "By laying the hand on a Medicine Sack, a ball or an arrow and saying, 'May my Medicine prove bad, or may the ball or the arrow pierce my heart if I tell a lie.' " Rather than request a medicine bag for his own swearing-in, he told the whites: "The Americans know more than the Indians. I see you have a book there you say is the word of God (or the heart of God). I believe it and will attest upon it as you do."

Leavenworth conducted the interrogation before an assemblage of Rock River Winnebago. Referring to Chewachera's accusations, Leavenworth insisted that the matter had been looked into by Nicholas Boilvin, the United States Indian agent at Prairie du Chien. Boilvin, after talking to a man who had buried the Winnebago couple, reported that although one of the bodies bore marks that might have been attributed to an accident, neither body had broken bones, nor was there evidence that the woman had been assaulted. He said they drowned after falling through the ice. Leavenworth dismissed the charges against the Americans as a lie sung in the Indians' ears by "some bad bird." He claimed that two years had elapsed since the disputed incident and that it was as unreasonable for Winnebago to kill his young men at Rock Island in retaliation for those drowning victims as it would be for him now to kill Winnebago at Prairie La Crosse or Black River in response to the murders of the soldiers.

As on previous occasions, Leavenworth promised that if tribal leaders reported to him any cases of Americans killing Winnebago, he would punish the perpetrators. In a rhetorical flourish that his listeners could not have taken seriously, the Colonel claimed that if his own Father or brother killed an Indian, he would spare no effort to have him hanged, and "such are the sentiments of every white man."

In order to demonstrate "our love of justice [and] that we do not wish to harm the innocent," the authorities released Jerago after concluding that he had done everything possible to prevent the crime. That magnanimous gesture, Leavenworth warned, should not be misconstrued; justice also required that the guilty be punished. Glossing over such Winnebago concepts of justice as payment to relatives of victims, Leavenworth asserted that the "unfortunate young men" had "committed a crime which by your laws subject them to the punishment of death." "Our laws," he concluded, "are the same."

Commending the Winnebago for their good faith in surrendering the murderers and lifting the cloud of distrust that hung over their nation, Leavenworth reminded them that for several years the Rock River bands had had had a bad reputation among whites. He hoped that their future conduct would disprove that negative appraisal. Finally, he warned against asking for the release of the two remaining prisoners, who, in his opinion, deserved the death penalty. In fact, he saw no reason why the Winnebago did not execute those of their nation who killed whites.

Apparently, the Winnebago made threats when they learned that only Jerago would be returned. The delegation had the temerity to tell Leavenworth that he should release the others for the sake of his "Forts and children." Leavenworth scolded them:

What do you mean by that? Is it war? If war serves your intention, you should have kept the prisoners and not given them up. Neither my Forts nor my soldiers are afraid of war ─ they are always ready and would be pleased with it if the Winnebagos wish it. You behaved like men in giving up the prisoners, but in asking me to release them again, you act like old women asking for bread.

The Colonel claimed to have made no promises regarding Chewachera and Whorahjinka. He judged that they were guilty and that Jerago was innocent. Leavenworth instructed the delegation to close any pending business with their agent and return to their villages. He expected assurances that the chiefs would restrain their men.

After meeting in the council, Shungapaw spoke for the Indians. He wished to know when Leavenworth was leaving to go upriver so that the band could accompany him. The suspicious Colonel refused to reveal his plans beyond saying that he intended to hold the prisoners until receiving orders from the President. Upon noticing that Shungapaw no longer wore an American medal (a gift of friendship), Leavenworth accused the Winnebago of mischievous intent. "When you are desirous of any favor, you are very good Americans and appear to be proud of wearing their medals," he said, "but when your wishes are disappointed, you throw them aside." Indeed, he warned them that a watchful eye would be kept upon them because he expected to hear of more murders. Next time, the Americans would not await a surrender; annihilation would be the result for those who began warfare. Shungapaw denied any evil intention and explained that he had given his medal to the brother of one of the prisoners in order to assuage his grief. He maintained that neither the chiefs nor the warriors present had mentioned war and that all were satisfied that their "Great Father, the President," would decide the prisoners' fate.

Reporting to Calhoun after a tour through Winnebago country, Governor Cass expressed satisfaction with Leavenworth's "wise and decisive" handling of matters. The Indians had learned a lesson, said Cass, and the United States should regret nothing except the "untimely fate of the soldiers." Commenting on the likelihood of future complaints, Cass was confident, after talking with men he termed principal Winnebago chiefs, that only the "intemperate passions of Individuals" would again produce such conduct. The chiefs, he believed, would disavow violent acts and would surrender offenders as quickly "as the relaxed state of their Government" would permit.

Leavenworth took the prisoners from Rock Island to Edwardsville in the autumn of 1820. From there, they were transferred to the jail at Belleville. The trial finally took place on May 12, 1821, after Chewachera and Whorahjinka had been held for nearly a year. Jacob Hough, a soldier from Fort Armstrong, testified that he and Andrew Peeling found the bodies of Blottenburgh and Riggs less than a mile from the fort. The two victims had been shot and scalped, and Blottenburgh was hacked in the left side with an axe. Jerago, having been called to testify, told the same story he had related in the earlier interrogation. The jury took only half an hour to reach a verdict of guilty. The following day Chewachera and Whorahjinka were sentenced to death by hanging; the execution was set for mid-July.

The physical condition of the two prisoners was a matter of grave concern both in the Illinois press and among their fellow Winnebago. According to one account, the two had been "hearty, robust men" in the fall of 1820 but were "scarcely able to stand or move by the trial." Upon inquiry by Leavenworth and others, the Indians made specific complaints about their treatment in jail during the winter. According to their statements, they had neither fire nor bedding and were made to sleep on a hard floor. Their daily rations consisted of "cornbread of the size of a small biscuit and half that quantity of meat." On one occasion, they received no food or water for three days and nights. The Illinois Intelligence called for an investigation in the belief that the allegations of inhumanity were exaggerated. One editorialist asked rhetorically: 

Do we call ourselves a Christian nation: Do we boast of our humanity ─ our justice? Were these men in the custody of American people and American laws? If this is true, in what do our prisons differ from those of the Spanish Inquisition or ourselves from nations we are pleased to call barbarous and uncivilized?

William A. Beaird, sheriff of St. Clair County and keeper of the Belleville jail, was accused of mistreating the Winnebago prisoners. He responded to the charges by writing a letter to the newspaper "to teach editors not to injure the characters of innocent persons on the false statements of murdering Indians." In reply to the sheriff, the editor reminded readers that the Indians' statements were not false merely because of their source and that at least one of the two men might still be vindicated of the murder charge. Sheriff Beaird maintained that the prisoners were kept in a thick-walled dungeon in which a fire would have been impossible but through which no cold drafts could penetrate. There was no suggestion, he said, that the Indians be moved near a fireplace. He labeled the charge regarding the bedding "a most absolute falsity" because Indian Agent Thomas Forsyth, wintering in St. Louis, had provided two blankets and two buffalo robes. Although Beaird said the prisoners had not fared well over the winter, he claimed they had more food than they could eat. Noticing that during the incarceration, one "dangerously. . . broke out in large sores, and bleeding at the nose, toothache, and scurvy," Beaird frequently had ordered that soup be prepared as "an extra dainty." The unaccustomed salt provision and their "close confinement in a very tight prison" caused what he called their "meager appearance."

Following the sentencing, Naw Kaw Carmani, the last Winnebago claiming a tribal-wide chieftainship, spoke to the assemblage. Although he would live until after 1830, Naw Kaw was already in his late eighties. In an opening litany of stock phrases, he claimed to be an American, pleading by the Great Spirit that he stood sincerely for peace, and stated that he had less power in his nation than the judge who had just pronounced the sentence. Then bitterness came through in his closing remarks:

When I came down here, I had hoped to find that Che-wa-cha-rah and Who-rah-jin-kah had been better treated, but my heart is oppressed at the cruelty that they have received. I did hope that pity would have been found for them. . . . But let peace be between us. I look up to our Great Father as I do to the Great Spirit for protection.

My Father ─ I came here to see justice, but find none ─ Cah-rah-mah-ree is honest, speaks what he thinks, and shakes you by the hand for the last time.

A report of the trial and verdict was sent to Washington. President James Monroe approved of the sentences meted out to the "misguided" Winnebago, but he had reservations regarding the pre-trial examinations of the accused. As a result, Secretary of War Calhoun was instructed to send word of a temporary reprieve for Whorahjinka. That decision showed at least some sensitivity to Indian perceptions of the circumstances. Whorahjinka's "extreme youth" certainly figured into the move, but so too did an appreciation that he acted as the nephew of Chewachera, "to whom he appeared to consider his body to belong and that he was of course bound to do whatever he told him to do." Whorahjinka's execution date was delayed to August 14, and Calhoun queried William Clark about the impact on the Winnebago of a full presidential pardon. In late June, the enfeebled Chewachera died in prison.

Presidential reprieve proved a false hope, for Leavenworth, who served as a prosecutor in the trial, was convinced that Whorahjinka's guilt was indisputable. While admitting that the Indians had been mistreated in captivity, Leavenworth felt positive that the tribes would "harbor motives of revenge" if Whorahjinka were released. On the expiration of the reprieve, Whorahjinka was hanged at Kaskaskia.

Agent Forsyth confirmed the predicted hostile mood of the Winnebago when he requested that his quarters be located adjacent to Fort Armstrong, as the Winnebago were "by no means well intended, on account (as they say) of the treatment their two men experienced previous to their trial." Fearful of Winnebago's revenge, American policymakers followed the old Anglo-Saxon custom (closely paralleling Indian practice) of making a wergild, or payment, in order to appease the victims' relatives and defuse any desire for retaliation. Because the bands were living near Thomas Forsyth's agency (although not within his jurisdiction), the War Department instructed him to make moderate compensation to the relatives of the two dead Indians "to relieve [them] from the distress which . . . they have suffered."

The Fort Armstrong murders and the resulting trial of the Winnebago prisoners illustrate the extent to which Indians of Illinois complied outwardly with the white man's system of justice. Yet their submission to Anglo-American legal concepts was structured whenever possible with an eye to conformity with their own traditionalism. 

Through the 1820s, continuing American penetration of the Winnebago domain provoked a variety of sporadic responses by Winnebago individuals and bands. Although initially, no tribal-wide policy underlay such responses, Americans insisted that a well-coordinated tribal policy existed. It thus became increasingly difficult for the Indians to practice traditional customs involving justice and land tenure, especially when confronted by the invasions of lead miners. 
The 1825 council at Prairie du Chien at which William Clark and Lewis Cass presented the treaty establishing intertribal boundaries for eleven Michigan Territory tribes. Artist James Otto Lewis, who attended the council, painted this scene.


In 1825 the United States imposed the first regional intertribal boundary treaty. In 1827, the so-called "Winnebago War" was declared by whites in reaction to a raid similar to the Fort Armstrong affair. The treaty ending that conflict gave the government the opportunity to impose the first actual cession of Winnebago lands in Illinois and Wisconsin.

Journal of the Illinois State Historical Society, 1980.
Edited by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D.

Tuesday, May 10, 2022

A Discovery of an Indian Effigy Mound in the Lake View Community of Chicago, May Date Before 1,000 AD.

Effigy mounds are sacred burial places built by Indians between 800 AD and 1,000 AD. They are extensive earthworks made from soil, usually about 3 to 7 feet high, forming shapes that can be seen from overhead. Some look like bears, and others resemble lizards or turtles.

Map of American Indian trails and villages of Chicago and of Cook, DuPage, and Will counties in 1804 was drawn by Albert F. Scharf 1900, a surveyor and cartographer who took an interest in Chicago’s 19th-century geography.
We'll look for evidence that a lizard-shaped effigy mound existed in Chicago's Lake View neighborhood, who built it, and why it disappeared. The answers to these questions illustrate how racism among early archaeologists prevented them from getting to the bottom of the effigies’ origins.
Scharf’s map shows the text 'LIZARD' (an “Effigy Mound"), located in Chicago's Lake View neighborhood. Effigy mounds are large earthworks made from soil that form shapes that can be seen from overhead.
Archeologists haven’t confirmed the existence of the effigy mound in Lake View, but there is some archival evidence of its location. 

The Scharf map reconstructed a landscape that had been vastly transformed from an area with a few villages and trails to a major city with several outlying suburbs and roads. Scharf relied on accounts from Chicagoans old enough to remember the area before 1833.

His source for the location of the lizard effigy mound was likely an artist and amateur archaeologist named Carl Dilg, who was obsessed with Chicago’s archaeological history and on a personal quest to document the ancient sites of Chicago. As he wrote in a private letter, Dilg wanted to make sure Chicago’s history was not “smothered and killed.”
The Chicago History Museum (formerly the Chicago Historical Society) has an extensive collection of Dilg’s papers, including notes he made from dozens of excursions to archaeological sites around Chicago in the 1880s and 1890s. They contain multiple references to a mound in Lake View, which he referred to as a “lizard” or a “serpent.” Dilg made several sketches of artifacts found near the mound and a map of the area now known as Lake View, showing the exact location of the mound, which you can see on his map.
In Dilg's sketch of the side profile of the lizard mound,
he compares it to another archaeological site in California.
But Dilg didn’t include a precise description of the mound’s length, width, or makeup.

Still, there seems to be significant circumstantial evidence that he’d actually seen it. For one, his depiction of the mound shows the head facing south and the tail facing north, as though the creature was walking south. This is consistent with other water spirit effigies that archaeologists have found in places like Wisconsin. Dilg’s sketches and notes also show the lizard-shaped mound had another round-shaped mound built adjacent to or directly on the “lizard.” This is consistent with the Potawatomi burial practice: The Potawatomi typically constructed conical burial mounds on the site of older effigy mounds. Finally, effigy mounds have been documented as close to Chicago as Aurora, so it’s possible effigy builders’ could have made it to Chicago.

But we know that there’s no lizard mound in Lake View today, so if it did exist, then what happened to it?

About 15 years after Dilg made his sketches, Charles Brown, a distinguished archaeologist from Wisconsin, visited Chicago to review Dilg’s extensive work. Brown wrote about Dilg’s observations, including one sentence about the Lake View effigy mound:

“A ‘lizard mound’ of doubtful origin was located on Oakdale Avenue and Wellington Street, under the present elevated station,” Brown wrote.

Brown’s notes suggest there was some kind of mound that was probably destroyed by the construction of the elevated train line that eventually became the Chicago Transit Authority’s Brown-Line. His use of the phrase “of doubtful origin” suggests Brown, a leading expert on effigy mounds at the time, doubted the mound in Lake View was a true effigy mound like those 800 to 1,200-year-old mounds in Wisconsin.

But archaeologist Amy Rosebrough says Brown has “been known to be wrong.” Brown’s doubt may simply reflect his own disdain at Dilg’s amateur approach to archaeology or his belief that Chicago was not part of the effigy mound builders’ territory, Rosebrough says.

Without a more complete record, Rosebrough and other archaeologists cannot verify if the Lake View mound was an authentic effigy mound or merely a lump of earth that Dilg’s romantic imagination transformed into an ancient sculpture.

If we assume Dilg was correct and the Lake View mound was, in fact, the same kind of effigy mound found in Wisconsin, that raises another critical question that scholars and archaeologists have been asking for 200 years: Who built it?

Early American archaeologists believed the mounds may have been built by a mysterious “lost race” of “mound builders,” sometimes thought to be an earlier Native American civilization connected to Mayan, Aztec, or Incan cultures. Some have theorized the mound builders weren’t indigenous to the Americas, but instead, they were a lost tribe of Israel or a traveling culture, like the Phoenicians or Egyptians.

These hypotheses, which range from unlikely to absurd, reveal a bias common among white Americans in the 19th century: They didn’t believe contemporary groups like the Ho-Chunk, Potawatomi, or Ojibwe, who all lived in areas with effigy mounds, were sophisticated enough to build them.

Richard C Taylor, a writer who traveled through Wisconsin in the 1830s, was typical of the time. He wrote:

“But to a far different race, assuredly, and to a far different period, must we look when seeking to trace the authors of these singular mounds. … But who were they who left almost imperishable memorials on the soil, attesting to the superiority of their race?”

This prejudice made archaeologists slow to accept the idea that these mounds were built by the ancestors of the Indians who lived near the mounds. But eventually, beginning in the early 1900s, American archaeologists began a more deliberate effort to talk with Native Americans about effigy mounds. Charles Brown and Paul Radin, two Wisconsin-based archaeologists, documented extensive conversations with Ho-Chunk people (then known as the Winnebago tribe).

The current consensus among archaeologists is that the mounds were built by several tribes or groups who might have been closely related and treated mound building as a ceremony. Archaeologists believe the Ho-Chunk of Wisconsin is one of several tribal groups descended from people who built effigy mounds, including the Iowa and Winnebago of Nebraska.

Over the years, the Ho-Chunk have claimed to be the descendants of effigy mound builders. In an interview with the Portage Daily Register in 2016, Bill Quackenbush, the cultural resources officer for the Ho-Chunk, said he prefers not to explain the significance of the mounds to outsiders. He said people should try to appreciate the mounds rather than analyze and understand their exact meaning.  
Digging into effigy mounds was a popular pastime during the late 19th century.
“The culture we live in today and society 100 years ago, they tried to do that,” he said. “They dug through them, took screens out there, shook the dirt, and looked for every little piece of information found. They couldn't find what they were trying to get. They had a preconceived notion in their heads already.”

So early settlers destroyed hundreds if not thousands of ancient sculptures, along with the historical record. They plowed under mounds to farm the land or leveled them and built homes on the sites. In some cases, early settlers claimed to have asked local Native Americans about the origins of the mounds without receiving a clear answer.

John Low, a Potawatomi Indian, and professor of American Indian studies, says he’s suspicious of these accounts, given that they took place during a power struggle over land.

“The natives may have said that because they aren’t going to share with people, they regard as the enemy, the specialness they know about a site.” Or, Low suggests, the white settlers may have displayed selective memory.

“We may have been written out of the narrative,” he says. “If the knowledge the natives have about these sites had been transcribed, gosh, that sounds like the natives have more of a claim, and it sounds icky to walk them out to Kansas or Oklahoma.”

By the late 1800s, when Indians were no longer seen as a threat to westward expansion, white Americans became interested in many aspects of their culture, including effigy mounds. But that interest was not necessarily respectful, especially considering mounds often contain human remains, and archaeologists felt free to dig through burial sites and take home human remains for display. Amy Rosebrough describes the popular pastime of “mounding”:

“You take a family out on a picnic and give the kids a shovel and bucket, and they would dig into a mound and see what was there.”

Unless we find new evidence in an archive somewhere (perhaps missing pages from Carl Dilg’s manuscript), Lake View's “lizard effigy” will remain a mystery. That’s because so much of the historical record was lost when the mounds were destroyed, says scholar and Potawatomi Indian John Low. As a Native American, he feels like the destruction of the mounds represents a desecration and willful disrespect of his culture. But he also sees a universal human tragedy.

“It’s something we should all feel sad about when they’re lost,” he says. “Like when the acropolis is lost. Or the pyramids. Or Stonehenge is lost. These, too, are part of the human record of achievement. What a shame.”

ADDITIONAL READING: