They were rounded up under false pretense, driven off the land they loved and marched across a sweltering prairie at gun and bayonet point. As they sickened in the heat, they were crammed into baggage wagons, where many of them died.
They were part of a tragic and little-known chapter in Midwestern history: the Trail of Death.More than 850 Potawatomi Indians took part in the 660-mile forced march in 1838 from northern Indiana, through Illinois and Missouri and into what today is eastern Kansas.
The Trail of Death is overshadowed in history books by the famous Trail of Tears, the forced march of the Cherokee from the Southeastern states to Oklahoma during the fall and winter of 1838-39. About 4,000 of the roughly 15,000 Cherokees died on that 116-day trek.
The Potawatomi Trail of Death took the lives of about 50 Indians, many of whose bodies are buried along the route. By trail's end another 150 had deserted. It was the best-documented of many forced marches of the Potawatomi that continued through the 1850s.
Eight years ago, a small group of Potawatomi descendants and whites launched a campaign to commemorate the trail and find the campsites where the 19th-century marchers stayed. In April, the Missouri Legislature joined those of Illinois, Indiana and Kansas in declaring the Trail of Death a regional historic trail.
So far, the group has placed 30 historical markers at campsites, with 22 more needed to complete the trail. As whites and descendants of the Indians work to commemorate the trail, they struggle to confront the pain, racism and guilt that are the legacy of the events of 1838. But, they say, they also celebrate a story of dignity, faith and hope that all humans can learn to live in peace.
The Potawatomi, or "Keepers of the Fire," were a hunting and fishing people numbering about 10,000 in the early 1800s. The culture was similar to other tribes of the Great Lakes region, including the Ottawa, Ojibwa, Kickapoo, Mesquakie and Shawnee.
The Potawatomi lived in about 50 widely separated villages in Wisconsin, Michigan, Illinois and Indiana. Early in the European exploration of North America, the Potawatomi helped the French, who called them "docile and affectionate," deal with the Western tribes. The Potawatomi were peaceful, but fought hard when the need arose.
As land-hungry white settlers flooded the Midwest, pressure rose on the U.S. government to act against the Indians. Through a succession of treaties from 1818 on, the Potawatomi ceded much of their land to the whites. Under President Andrew Jackson's Removal Act of 1830, the government began moving some Potawatomi bands to the west. The Trail of Death trek in 1838 was the final major "emigration," as the government agents put it.
The Trail of Death comes to life in the letters and journals of Father Benjamin Petit, a Catholic missionary who served the Potawatomi, and William Polke, an Indiana judge and the so-called "conductor" of the expulsion.
On Aug. 30, 1838, Gen. John Tipton and his Indiana militia surprised the Potawatomi living in the Twin Lakes region in northern Indiana by herding them into an encampment. More than 800 Potawatomi had been rounded up by the time the militia ordered the group to march west on the morning of Sept. 4.
Drought parched the Midwestern plains that fall. Petit and Polke described the journey as arduous and heat-stricken. Many suffered from fever, diarrhea and swollen glands. Some of this may have been typhoid fever, some heat stroke.
A dragoon on horseback, carrying a U.S. flag, led the procession and was followed by the officers and their baggage carts. Next came the Potawatomi chiefs, held in a cage on a wagon. Some Indians rode horses, some walked. Eventually, the chiefs were released from their cages and, From time to time, young braves were allowed to go off on hunting sorties. A few Indians fled.
Two dozen wagons carried provisions described by Polke as "rather scarce and not of the best quality." That meant small rations of beef and flour.
Petit, delayed for a few days, described this view as he caught up to the column: "I saw my poor Christians, under a burning noonday sun, amidst clouds of dust, marching in a line, surrounded by soldiers who were hurrying their steps." He also described invalids, children and women too weak to walk as being crammed into the baggage wagons.
Almost immediately, the sick and dying began to fall by the wayside. On the second day, 51 Potawatomi were left along the trail, most of them sick, the others to care for them.
Despite the obvious suffering, with entries "a child died" being added to his journal as often as two or three times a day, Polke constantly remarked on the cheerfulness of the Potawatomi men, women and children. He also noted times when the health of the sick improved.
Petit viewed the trek much differently. The camps were "a scene of desolation, with sick and dying people on all sides," he wrote, mentioning the sick children as being in "a state of languor and depression."
The group usually traveled between 15 and 20 miles a day, during which Petit described the burning sun in the prairies of Illinois and Polke told of white settlers turning out to watch the march.
Led by Petit, the Potawatomi routinely said morning and evening prayers together. The whites "were astonished to find so much piety in the midst of so many trials," he reported.
When the group passed through Jacksonville, Ill., on Oct. 2, the town band played and residents gave tobacco and pipes to the Indians. The Potawatomi "appeared quite as much delighted with the favor shown them as with the excellent music of the band," Polke wrote.
The weather moderated almost as soon as the group crossed the Mississippi at Quincy, Ill., on Oct. 8. Residents there remarked how well-mannered the Potawatomi appeared. By the time they arrived in Missouri, hardly any were sick and hunting also became better.
Even so, five Indians died as they crossed Missouri: three on the west bank of the Mississippi, one at Palmyra as the party passed through on Oct. 12 and another at Little Schuy Creek near Lexington.
As the group neared Huntsville on Oct. 17, a heavy snowstorm made travel difficult. On Oct. 22, the group began crossing the Missouri River at Grand River. The whites issued shoes to the Indians, Polke wrote, "the weather being too severe for marching without a covering to the feet."
As they passed through northern Missouri, they encountered settlers who fled hostilities between Mormons and Protestants in Davies and Carroll counties. On Oct. 26, they arrived at Lexington on the Missouri River.
The Indians crossed into the "Western Territory," (Kansas today), on Nov. 2 in a heavy downpour. Two days later, they crossed the Osage River and ended their journey at Potawatomi Creek, at the present-day town of Osawatomie, Kan. There, they joined friends and family members from a smaller expulsion the previous year.
Death and escape had dwindled their number from about 850 to about 650, Petit reported. Many still live on a reservation in Kansas. Historical markers, each consisting of a boulder and a plaque, cost $500 and are placed by county historical socieites and Boy Scout and Girl Scout troops. So far, 12 markers have been placed in Illinois and four in Missouri.
George Godfrey, a Potawatomi descendant from Lawrence, Kan., has been Willard's partner in the commemoration effort. Godfrey said the ceremonies along the trail provide a chance to show respect to his ancestors and the hardships they endured.
To inquire about sponsoring or finding a Trail of Death historical marker, contact Shirley Willard at the Fulton County Historical Society, 37 East 375 N., Rochester, Ind., 46975; (219) 223-4436.