By Leo

In April, the Supreme Court heard arguments in the case Department of Commerce v. New York and could render a decision any day on whether or not the 2020 federal census should include a question asking about citizenship status.  In January, a Federal District Court in New York ruled that commerce secretary, Wilbur Ross, violated the law by pushing for that question.

Those in agreement with the District ruling suggest that the Trump administration wants to add the question as a way of discouraging immigrants from participating in the census, thereby diminishing the political power of immigrant communities.  This, they say, would violate the Constitution on the grounds that the census must be an “actual enumeration” of all persons within the United States, not only citizens.

Proponents of the citizenship question counter that citizenship status is a perfectly natural question to ask in the census, that any government would want to know how many citizens it has, and that several past iterations of the 10-year count have included similar questions.

It remains to be seen how the Supreme Court will rule, but chances are it will not be the last time an issue of race, identity, or citizenship pops up in the politics of the census.  From its creation by the Constitution as a way to apportion seats in congress according to populations of the states, the count has always begged tricky questions that essentially boil down to:

Who is a real American?  Who isn’t?  Who is a citizen?  Who is three-fifths of a human being?  Who might not be human at all?  What does it mean to be White?  To be Colored? To be civilized?  How do you classify the myriad of human backgrounds, cultures and stories into finite, discrete “races?”

The Civil War and Fourteenth Amendment helped shed light on some of these questions, but it would be a mistake to think that they belong to the past.  The NPR podcast Codeswitch has done an excellent series on census, and this episode from last August gives a broad overview of the history.

Here at Chequamegon History, though, we aren’t in the business broad overviews.  We are going to drill down right into the data.  We’ll comb through the 1850 federal census for La Pointe County and compare it with the 1860 data for La Pointe and Ashland Counties. Just for fun, we’ll compare both with the 1855 Wisconsin State Census for La Pointe County, then double back to the 1840 federal census for western St. Croix County.  Ultimately, the hope is to help reveal how the population of the Chequamegon region viewed itself, and ultimately how that differed from mainstream America’s view.  With luck, that will give us a framework for more stories like Amorin’s recent post on the killing of Louis Gurnoe.

Background

Daniel Harris JohnsonJudge Daniel Harris Johnson of Prairie du Chien had no apparent connection to Lake Superior when he was appointed to travel northward to conduct the census for La Pointe County in 1850.  The event made an impression on him. It gets a mention in his short memorial biography in the 1902 Proceedings of the State Bar Association.

Two years after statehood, Lake Superior’s connection to the rest of Wisconsin was hardly existent.  This was long before Highways 51 and 53 were built, and commerce still flowed west to east.  Any communication to or from Madison was likely to first go through Michigan via Mackinaw and Sault Ste. Marie, or through Minnesota Territory via St. Paul, Stillwater, and Sandy Lake.  La Pointe County had been created in 1845, and when official business had to happen, a motley assortment of local residents who could read and write English:  Charles Oakes, John W. Bell, Antoine Gordon, Alexis Carpentier, Julius Austrian, Leonard Wheeler, etc. would meet to conduct the business.

It is unclear how much notice the majority Ojibwe and French-patois speaking population took of this or of the census generally.  To them, the familiar institutions of American power, the Fur Company and the Indian Agency, were falling apart at La Pointe and reorganizing in St. Paul with dire consequences for the people of Chequamegon.  When Johnson arrived in September, the Ojibwe people of Wisconsin had already been ordered to remove to Sandy Lake in Minnesota Territory for their promised annual payments for the sale of their land.  That fall, the government would completely botch the payment, and by February, hundreds of people in the Lake Superior Bands would be dead from starvation and disease.

So, Daniel Johnson probably found a great deal of distraction and anxiety among the people he was charged to count.  Indians, thought of by the United States as uncivilized federal wards and citizens of their own nations, were typically not enumerated.  However, as I wrote about in my last post, race and identity were complicated at La Pointe, and the American citizens of the Chequamegon region also had plenty to lose from the removal.

Madison, for its part, largely ignored this remote, northern constituency and praised the efforts to remove the Ojibwe from the state.  It isn’t clear how much Johnson was paying attention to these larger politics, however.  He had his own concerns:

Johnson1Johnson2Johnson3

House Documents, Volume 119, Part 1.  U.S. Government Printing Office, 1859.  Google Books.

So, in “that thinly settled and half civilized region,” Johnson only found a population of about 500, “exclusive of Indians.”  He didn’t think 500 was a lot, but by some counts, that number would have seemed very high.  Take the word of a European visitor to La Pointe:

Among 200 Indians, only a few white families live there. One of the boatmen gave us a name, with which we found Mr. Austrian.                           

~Carl Scherzer, 1852

And, from this Mr. Austrian, himself:

There were only about 6 white American inhabitants on the Island, about 50 Canadian Frenchmen who were married to squaws, and a number of full blooded Indians, among whom was chief Buffalo who was a descendant of chiefs & who was a good Indian and favorably regarded by the people.

~Joseph Austrian, Brother of Julius and La Pointe resident 1851-52

Who lived around La Pointe in 1850?

In her biography, William W. Warren:  the Life, Letters, and Times of an Ojibwe LeaderTheresa Schenck describes the short life of an ambitious young man from La Pointe.  William Whipple Warren (1825-1853) grew up on the Island speaking Ojibwe as his first language.  His father was a Yankee fur trader from New York.  His mother was a daughter of Michel and Madeline Cadotte.  In his famous History of the Ojibways Warren describes the Ojibwe as people with whom he readily claims kinship, but he doesn’t write as if he is an Ojibwe person himself.  However, he helped interpret the Treaty of 1847 which had definitively made him an Indian in the eyes of the United States (a fact he was willing to use for economic gain).  Still, a few years later, when he became a legislator in Minnesota Territory he dismissed challenges to his claims of whiteness.

If he were alive today, Warren might get a chuckle out of this line from the South African comedian Trevor Noah.

People mocked me. Gave me names like mixed breed, half caste — I hate that term ‘half’. Why half? Why not double? Or twice as nice, I don’t know.

— Trevor Noah

William Warren did not see himself as quite the walking contradiction we might see him as today.  He was a product of the time and place he came from:  La Pointe.  By 1850, he had left that place, but his sister and a few hundred of his cousins still lived there. Many of them were counted in the census.

What is Metis?

Half-breeds, Mixed-bloods, Frenchmen, Wiisakodewininiwag, Mitif, Creoles, Metis, Canadiens, Bois Brules, Chicots, French-of-the-country, etc.–at times it seems each of these means the same thing. At other times each has a specific meaning. Each is ambiguous in its own way.  In 1850, roughly half the families in the Chequamegon area fit into this hard-to-define category.

Kohl1

Kohl2

Kohl, J. G. Kitchi-Gami: Wanderings around Lake Superior. London: Chapman and Hall, 1860.  pg. 260-61.
“Where do I stay?  I cannot tell you.  I am a voyageur–I am a Chicot, sir.  I stay everywhere.  My grandfather was a voyageur; he died on voyage.  My father was a voyageur; he died on voyage.    I will also die on voyage and another Chicot will take my place.” ~Unnamed voyageur qtd. in Kohl
We were accompanied on our trip throughout the lakes of western Canada by half-Indians who had paternal European blood in their veins.  Yet so often, a situation would allow us to spend a night inside rather than outdoors, but they always asked us to choose to Irish camp outside with the Indians, who lived at the various places.  Although one spoke excellent English, and they were drawn more to the great American race, they thought, felt, and spoke—Indian!  ~Carl Scherzer

 

 

 

 

 

In describing William Warren’s people, Dr. Schenck writes,

Although the most common term for people of mixed Indian and European ancestry in the nineteenth century was “half-breed,” the term “mixed blood” was also used.  I have chosen to use the latter term, which is considered less offensive, although biologically inaccurate, today.  The term “métis” was not in usage at the time, except to refer to a specific group of people of mixed ancestry in the British territories to the north.  “Wissakodewinini,” the word used by the Ojibwe, meant “burned forest men,” or bois brulés in French, so called because half-breeds were like the wood of a burned forest, which is often burned on one side, and light on the other (pg. xv).

Schenck is correct in pointing out that mixed-blood was far more commonly used in 19th-century sources than Metis (though the latter term did exist).  She is also correct in saying that the term is more associated with Canada and the Red River Country.  There is an additional problem with Metis, in that 21st-century members of the Wannabe Tribe have latched onto the term and use it, incorrectly, to refer to anyone with partial Native ancestry but with no affiliation to a specific Indian community.

That said, I am going to use Metis for two reasons.  The first is that although blood (i.e. genetic ancestry) seemed to be ubiquitous topic of conversation in these communities, I don’t think “blood” is what necessarily what defined them.  The “pure-blooded French Voyageur” described above by Kohl clearly saw himself as part of Metis, rather than “blanc” society.  There were also people of fully-Ojibwe ancestry who were associated more with Metis society than with traditional Ojibwe society (see my post from April).  As such, I find Metis the more versatile and accurate term, given that it means “mixed,” which can be just as applicable to a culture and lifestyle as it is to a genetic lineage.

louis_riel.jpg

One time Canadian pariah turned national hero, Louis Riel and his followers had cousins at La Pointe (Photo:  Wikipedia)

The second reason I prefer Metis is precisely because of the way it’s used in Manitoba.  Analogous to the mestizo nations of Latin America, Metis is not a way of describing any person with Native and white ancestry.  The Metis consider themselves a creole-indigenous nation unto themselves, with a unique culture and history.  This history, already two centuries old by 1850, represents more than simply a borrowed blend of two other histories.  Finally, the fur-trade families of Red River came from Sault Ste. Marie, Mackinac, Grand Portage, and La Pointe. There were plenty of Cadottes, Defaults, Roys, Gurnoes, and Gauthiers among them.  There was even a Riel family at La Pointe.  They were the same nation    

Metis and Ojibwe Identity in the American Era

When the 1847 Treaty of Fond du Lac “stipulated that the half or mixed bloods of the Chippewas residing with them shall be considered Chippewa Indians, and shall, as such, be allowed to participate in all annuities which shall hereafter be paid…” in many ways, it contradicted two centuries of tradition.  Metis identity, in part, was dependent on not being Indian.  They were a minority culture within a larger traditional Anishinaabe society.  This isn’t to say that Metis people were necessarily ashamed of their Native ancestors–expressions of pride are much easier to find than expressions shame–they were just a distinct people. This was supposedly based in religion and language, but I would argue it came mostly from paternal lineage (originating from highly-patriarchal French and Ojibwe societies) and with the nature of men’s work.  For women, the distinction between Ojibwe and Metis was less stark.

The imposition of American hegemony over the Chequamegon region was gradual.  With few exceptions, the Americans who came into the region from 1820 to 1850 were adult men.  If new settlers wanted families, they followed the lead of American and British traders and married Metis and Ojibwe women. 

Still, American society on the whole did not have a lot of room for the racial ambiguity present in Mexico or even Canada.  A person was “white” or “colored.”  Race mixing was seen as a problem that affected particular individuals.  It was certainly not the basis for an entire nation.  In this binary, if Metis people weren’t going to be Indian, they had to be white.

The story of the Metis and American citizenship is complicated and well-studied.  There is risk of overgeneralizing, but let’s suffice to say that in relation to the United States government, Metis people did feel largely entitled to the privileges of citizenship (synonymous with whiteness until 1865), as well as to the privileges of Ojibwe citizenship.  There wasn’t necessarily a contradiction.

Whatever qualms white America might have had if they’d known about it, Metis people voted in American elections, held offices, and were counted by the census.

Ojibwe “Full-bloods” and the United States Census

Representatives and direct Taxes shall be apportioned among the several States which
may be included within this Union, according to their respective Numbers, which shall be determined by adding to the whole Number of free Persons, including those bound to Service for a Term of Years, and excluding Indians not taxed, three fifths of all other Persons. The actual Enumeration shall be made within three Years after the first Meeting of the Congress of the United States, and within every subsequent Term of ten Years, in such Manner as they shall by Law direct.     

~Excerpt from Article I Section II, U. S. Constitution

As I argued in the April post, our modern conception of “full-blood” and “mixed-blood” has been shaped by the “scientific” racism of the late 19th and early 20th centuries.  The distinction, while very real in a cultural sense, was not well-grounded in biology.

The relationship of Indians (i.e. full-bloods or those living a traditional lifestyle) to American society and citizenship was possibly more contradictory then that of the Metis.  In one sense, America saw Indians as foreigners on their own continent:  either as enemies to be exterminated, or as domestic-dependent ward nations to be “protected.”  The constitutional language about the census calls for slaves to be counted as three-fifths of a person.  It says Indians shouldn’t be counted at all.

In another sense, however, the path to personhood in America was somewhat clearer for Indians than it was for African Americans.  Many New England liberals saw exodus to Liberia as the only viable future for free blacks. These same voices felt that Indians could be made white if only they were separated from their religions, cultures, and tribal identities.  In 1834, to avoid a second removal, the Brothertown Indians of Wisconsin petitioned congress for citizenship and the termination of collective title to their tribal lands.  In 1839, their request was granted.  In the eyes of the law, they had effectively become white.  Other communities would follow suit.  However, most Native people did not gain any form of American citizenship until 1924.

How did that play out for the Ojibwe people of Chequamegon, and how did it impact the 1850 census?  Well, it’s complicated.

Race, the Census, and Classifying Households 

The enumeration forms Daniel H. Johnson carried to La Pointe had more rows and columns than ever.  The Seventh Census was the first to count everyone in the household by name (previous versions only listed the Head of Household with tally marks).  It was also the first census to have a box for “color.”  Johnson’s choices for color were “white,” “black,” and “mulatto,” forcing him to make some decisions.

He seems to have tried to follow the Indians not taxed clause strictly.  40-50% of households in the region were headed by a full-blood Ojibwe person, possibly only two of them were enumerated.  You won’t find Chief Buffalo, Makadebinesi (Blackbird), Oshkinaawe, Omizhinaawe, Edawegiizhig, and their immediate families in the 1850 census.  Jechiikwii’o (often called Little Buffalo) is not in the document, even though he was an early Catholic convert, dressed in “white” clothing, and counted more Metis Ojibwe among his followers than full-bloods.  However, his son, Antoine Buffalo Sr. (Antoine Jachequaon) is counted.  Antoine, along with George Day, were counted as white heads of household by the census, though it is unclear if they had any European ancestry (Sources conflict.  If anyone has genealogical information for the Buffalo and Day families, feel free to comment on the post).  A handful of individuals called full-bloods in other sources, were listed as white.  This includes 90-year old Madeline Cadotte, Marie Bosquet, and possibly the Wind sisters (presumably descendants of Noodin, one of the St. Croix chiefs who became Catholic and relocated to La Pointe around this time).  They were married to Metis men or lived in Metis households.  All Metis were listed as white.

Johnson did invent new category for five other Ojibwe people:  “Civilized Indian,” which he seemed to use arbitrarily.  Though also living in Metis households, Mary Ann Cadotte, Osquequa Baszina, Marcheoniquidoque, Charlotte Houle, and Charles Loonsfoot apparently couldn’t be marked white the way Madeline Cadotte was.  These extra notations by Johnson and other enumeration marshals across the country are why the Seventh Federal Census is sometimes referred to as the first to count Native Americans.        

Enumerated Population by Race_ (1850 Census La Pointe and Bad River).svg

So, out of 470 individuals enumerated at La Pointe and Bad River (I’ve excluded Fond du Lac from my study) Johnson listed 465 (99%) as white.  By no definition, contemporary or modern, was the Chequamegon area 99% white in 1850.  The vast majority of names on the lines had Ojibwe ancestry, and as Chippewas of Lake Superior, were receiving annuities from the treaties.

There were a few white American settlers.  The Halls had been at La Pointe for twenty years.  The Wheelers were well-established at Odanah.  Junius and Jane Welton had arrived by then.  George Nettleton was there, living with a fellow Ohioan James Cadwell.  The infamous Indian agent, John Watrous, was there preparing the disastrous Sandy Lake removal.  Less easy to describe as American settlers, but clearly of European origins, Fr. Otto Skolla was the Catholic priest, and Julius Austrian was the richest man it town.

There were also a handful of American bachelors who had drifted into the region and married Metis women.  These first-wave settlers included government workers like William VanTassel, entrepreneurs like Peter VanderVenter, adventurers with an early connection to the region like Bob Boyd and John Bell, and homesteaders like Ervin Leihy.

For several reasons, Metis genealogy can be very difficult.  For those interested in tracing their La Pointe ancestors to Quebec or anywhere else, Theresa Schenck’s All Our Relations:  Chippewa Mixed Bloods and the Treaty of 1837 is an absolutely essential resource.

It is unclear how many of French-surnamed heads of household were Chicots (of mixed ancestry) and how many were Canadiens (of fully-French ancestry).  My sense is that it is about half and half.  Some of this can be inferred from birthplace (though a birthplace of Canada could indicate across the river at Sault Ste. Marie as easily it could a farm in the St. Lawrence Valley).  Intense genealogical study of each family might provide some clarifications, but I am going to follow Kohl’s voyageurs and not worry too much about it.  Whether it was important or not to Jean Baptiste Denomie and Alexis Carpentier that they had no apparent Indian ancestry and that they had come from “the true homeland” of Quebec, for all intents and purposes they had spent their whole adult lives in “the Upper Country,” and their families were “of the Country.”  They were Catholic and spoke a form of French that wasn’t taught in the universities.  American society would not see them as white in the way it saw someone like Sherman Hall as white.

So, by my reckoning, 435 of the 470 people counted at La Pointe  (92.5%) were Metis, full-blood Ojibwe living in Metis households, or Canadians in Metis families.  Adding the five “Civilized Indians” and the six Americans married into Metis families, the number rises to 95%.  I am trying to track down accurate data on the of Indians not taxed (i.e. non-enumerated full-bloods) living at or near La Pointe/Bad River at this time.  My best estimates would put it roughly the same as the number of Metis.  So, when Johnson describes a land with a language and culture foreign to English-speaking Americans, he’s right.

Birthplace, Age, and Gender

Ethnic composition is not the only data worth looking at if we want to know what this area was like 169 years ago.  The numbers both challenge and confirm assumptions of how things worked.

Let’s take mobility for example:

Reported Birthplace_ (1850 Census La Pointe and Bad River).svg

The young voyageur quoted by Kohl may have felt like he didn’t have a home other than en voyage, but 86% of respondents reported being born in Wisconsin.  Except for ten missionary children, all of these were Metis or “Civilized Indian.”  Wisconsin could theoretically mean Lac du Flambeau, Rice Lake, or even Green Bay, this but this number still seemed high to me.  I’m guessing more than 14% of 21st-century Chequamegon residents were born outside the state, and 19th-century records are all about commerce, long-distance travel, and new arrivals in new lands.  We have to remember that most of those records are coming from that 14%.

In September of 1850 the federal government was telling the Ojibwe of Wisconsin they needed to leave Wisconsin forever.  How the Metis fit into the story of the Sandy Lake Tragedy has always been somewhat fuzzy, but this data would indicate that for a clear majority, it meant a serious uprooting.

For those born outside Wisconsin, more than two-thirds reported being born in Michigan, Canada, or Minnesota Territory.  These are overwhelmingly Metis or in the case of Anglo-Canadians like Robert Morrin, heads of Metis households from areas with a fur-trade tradition.  Only eighteen individuals reported being born in the eastern United States.  Only three reported Europe.

I had more questions than assumptions about the gender and age breakdown of the population.  Would there be more women than men because of the dangerous jobs done by men or would mortality from childbirth balance that out?  Or maybe widows wouldn’t be counted if they returned to the wigwams of their mothers?  How would newcomers skew the age and gender demographics of the area?

Let’s take a look:

AG1 Total Enumerated Age Gender

A quick glance at Figure AG 1 shows that the population skewed male 248-222 and skewed very young (61% under 20 years old).  On the eve of Sandy Lake, the natural increase in the population seemed to be booming.

Wisconsin-Born_ (1850 Census La Pointe and Bad River) by Age and Gender.svg

The hypotheses that women had higher mortality rates and were more likely to be undercounted looked good until we limit the data to the Wisconsin-born population.  In Figure AG 2, we see that the male majority disappears entirely.  The youthful trend, indicating large families and a growing population, continues with 66% of the Wisconsin-born population being under 20.

Non-Wisconsin-Born_ (1850 Census La Pointe and Bad River) by Age and Gender.svg

The male skew of the total population was entirely due to those born outside Wisconsin.  This is not surprising given how much we’ve emphasized the number of men who came into the Lake Superior country to marry local women.

A look at the oldest residents in chart AG 2 and AG 3 hints at another story.  Madeline Cadotte is the only Wisconsin-born person over seventy to be counted.  The oldest men all came from Michigan and Canada.  Why?  My hypothesis is that between the fall of New France in 1759 and the establishment of Michel Cadotte’s post sometime around 1800, there wasn’t a large population or a very active fur trade around La Pointe proper.  That meant Cadotte’s widow and other full bloods were the oldest locally-born residents in 1850.  Their Metis contemporaries didn’t come over from the Soo or down from Grand Portage until 1810 or later.

Economics

Before the treaties, the economy of this area was built on two industries:  foraging and trade.  Life for Ojibwe people revolved around the seasonal harvest of fish, wild rice, game, maple sugar, light agriculture, and other forms of gathering food directly from the land.  Trade did not start with the French, and even after the arrival of European goods into the region, the primary purpose of trade seemed to be for cementing alliances and for the acquisition of luxury goods and sacred objects.  Richard White, Theresa Schenck, and Howard Paap have all challenged the myth of Ojibwe “dependence” on European goods for basic survival, and I find their arguments persuasive.

Trade, though, was the most important industry for Metis men and La Pointe was a center of this activity.  The mid-19th century saw a steep decline in trade, however, to be replaced by a toxic cycle of debts, land sales, and annuity payments.  The effects of this change on the Metis economy and society seem largely understudied.  The fur trade though, was on its last legs. Again, the Austrian travel writer Carl Scherzer, who visited La Pointe in 1852:

After this discussion of the of the rates of the American Fur Company and its agents, we want to add some details about the men whose labor and time exerted such a great influence on the fate and culture of the Indian tribes. We wish to add a few explanatory words about the sad presence on La Pointe of the voyageurs or courriers du bois.

This peculiar class of people, which is like a vein of metal that suddenly disappears within the bedrock and reappears many hundreds of miles away under the same geological conditions, their light reaches the borders of the eastern Canadas. The British people, with their religion and customs, reappeared on the shores of these northern lakes only in 1808 with the Fur Company. For labor they drew on those who could carry their wares across the lakes and communicate with the Indians.

Many young men of adventurous natures left the old wide streets of Montreal and moved into the trackless primeval forests of the West. Young and strong as laborers, they soon started to adopt the lifestyle and language of the aborigines. They married with the Indians and inhabit small settlements scattered throughout those mighty lands which begin at Mackinow Island and come up the upper lake to the region of Minnesota. They almost all speak the Canadian patois along with the language of the Chippewas, the tribe with which they came into kinship. We found only a few, even among the younger generation, who understood English.

Since then, every day the population of the otherwise deserted shore of Lake Superior increases with the discovery of copper mines. The animals driven away by the whirlwind of civilization toward the west, attract the Indians with their sensitive guns, leaving La Pointe, abandoned by the Company for their headquarters at St. Paul in Minnesota. Most voyageurs left the island, having seen their business in ruins and lacking their former importance. Just a few families remain here, making a meager livelihood of hunting, fishing, and the occasional convoy of a few travelers led by business, science, or love of nature who purchase their limited resources.

From Scherzer’s description, two things are clear.  It’s pretty clear from the flowery language of the Viennese visitor.Washington Irving and other Romantic-Era authors had already made the Voyageur into the stock stereotypical character we all know today. Th only change, though, is these days voyageurs are often depicted as representatives of white culture, but that’s a post for another time.

The second item, more pertinent to this post, is that a lot of voyageurs were out of work.  This is especially relevant when we look at our census data.  Daniel Johnson recorded the occupations of all males fifteen or over:

Occupations (1850 Census La Pointe and Bad River) 135 men, 15 years or older, listed with occupations.svg

A full 55% of enumerated men fifteen and older still identified themselves as voyageurs in 1850.  This included teenagers as well as senior citizens.  All were from Metis households, though aside from farmer, all of the other occupation categories in Figure O 1 included Metis people.

Mean Household Size by Occupation_ (1850 Census La Pointe and Bad River) .svg

A look at household sizes did not show voyageurs having to support significantly larger or smaller families when compared to the other occupation categories.

The other piece of economic data collected was value of real estate.  Here we see some interesting themes:

valueofrealestate1850Census.svg

If real estate is a good proxy for wealth in a farming community, it is an imperfect one in the Chequamegon area of 1850.  If a voyageur had no home but the river and portage, then we might not expect him to put his coin into land and buildings.  A teacher or Indian agent might draw a consistent salary but then live in supplied housing before moving on.  With that caveat, let’s dig into the data.

Excluding the single farmer, men in the merchant/trader group controlled the most wealth in real estate, with Julius Austrian controlling as much as the other merchants combined.  Behind them were carpenters and men with specific trades like cooper or shoemaker.  Those who reported their occupation generally as “laborer” were not far behind the tradesmen.  I suspect their real estate holdings may be larger and less varied than expected because of the number of sons and close relatives of Michel Cadotte Sr. who identified themselves as laborers.  Government and mission employees held relatively little real estate, but the institutions they represented certainly weren’t lacking in land or power.  Voyageurs come in seventh, just behind widows and ahead of fishermen of which there were only four in each category.

It is interesting, though, that the second and third richest men (by real estate) were both voyageurs, and voyageur shows a much wider range of households than some of the other categories:  laborers in particular.  With the number of teenagers calling themselves voyageurs, I suspect that the job still had more social prestige attached to it, in 1850, than say farmer or carpenter.

With hindsight we know that after 1854, voyageurs would be encouraged to take up farming and commercial fishing.  It is striking, however, how small these industries were in 1850.  Despite the American Fur Company’s efforts to push its Metis employees into commercial fishing in the 1830s, and knowing how many of the family names in Figure O 3 are associated with the industry, commercial fishing seemed neither popular nor lucrative in 1850.  I do suspect, however, that the line between commercial and subsistence fishing was less defined in those days and that fishing in general was seen as falling back on the Indian gathering lifestyle.  It wouldn’t be surprised if all these families were fishing alongside their Ojibwe relatives but didn’t really see fishing (or sugaring, etc.) as an occupation in the American sense.

Finally, it could not have escaped the voyageurs notice that while they were struggling, their former employers and their employers educated sons were doing pretty well.   They also would have noticed that it was less and less from furs. Lump annuity payments for Ojibwe land sales brought large amounts of cash into the economy one day a year.  It must have felt like piranhas with blood in the water.  Alongside their full-blood cousins, Metis Ojibwe received these payments after 1847, but they had more of a history with money and capitalism. Whether to identify with the piranha or the prey would have depended on all sorts of decisions, opportunities and circumstances.

Education and Literacy

The census also collected data on education and literacy, asking whether children had attended school within the year, and whether adults over twenty could read and write.  The history of white education efforts in this area are fairly well documented.  The local schools in 1850 were run by the American Board of Commissioners of Foreign Missions (A.B.C.F.M.) at the La Pointe and Odanah missions, and an entire generation had come of age at La Pointe in the years since Rev. Sherman Hall first taught out of Lyman Warren’s storehouse in 1831.  These Protestant ministers and teachers railed against the papists and heathens in their writings, but most of their students were Catholic or traditional Ojibwe in religion.  Interestingly, much of the instruction was done in the Ojibwe language.  Unfortunately, however, the census does not indicate the language an individual is literate in.  I highly recommend The Ojibwe Journals of Edmund F. Ely, 1833-1849 if you are interested in these topics.

To start with, though, let’s look at how many people were going to school:

Number of Pupils by Age_ (1850 Census La Pointe and Bad River).svg

Thirty-nine students had gone to school in the previous year.  There is a lot of sample-size noise in the data, but it seems like ages 7-11 (what we would call the upper-elementary years) were the prime years to attend school.

Reported School Attendance for Children Ages 5-16_ (1850 Census La Pointe and Bad River).svg

Overall, most children had not attended school within the year.  Attendance rates were slightly higher for boys than for girls.  White children, all from two missionary families, had a 100% attendance rate compared to 24% for the Metis and “Civilized Indian” children.

We should remember, however, that not attending school within the year is not the same as having never attended school.  Twelve-year-old Eliza Morrin (later Morrison) is among the number that didn’t attend school, but she was educated enough to write her memoirs in English, which was her second language. They were published in 2002 as A Little History of My Forest Life, a fascinating account of Metis life in the decades following 1854.

Eliza’s parents were among the La Pointe adults who could read and write.  Her aunt, uncle, and adult cousins in the neighboring Bosquet (Buskey) house were not.  Overall, just over half of adults over 20 were illiterate without a significant gender imbalance.  Splitting by birthplace, however, shows the literacy rate for Wisconsin-born (i.e. Metis and “Civilized Indian”) was only 30%, down from the overall male literacy rate of 48%.  For Wisconsin-born women, the drop is only three points, from 47% to 44%.  This suggests Metis women were learning to read while their husbands and brothers (perhaps en voyage) were not.

Literacy Rate for Adults over 20 (1850 Census La Pointe and Bad River) by Gender and Birthplace_.svg

And this is exactly what the data say when we split by occupation.  The literacy rate for voyageurs was only 13%.  This beats fisherman–all four were illiterate–but lagged far behind all other types of work.

Literacy Rate for Adults over 20 (1850 Census La Pointe and Bad River) by Occupation_.svg

If education was going to be a factor in the economic mobility of unemployed voyageurs, the trends weren’t looking good.

Odds and Ends

Two marriages were reported as occurring in the year previous to the census:  Peter and Caroline Vanderventer and Pierre and Marguerite Robideaux (ak.a. Peter and Margaret Rabideaux).   Though married, however, Caroline was not living with her husband, a 32-year old grocer from New York.  She (along with their infant daughter) was still in the home of her parents Benjamin and Margaret Moreau (Morrow).  The Vanderventers eventually built a home together and went on to have several more children. It appears their grandson George Vanderventer married Julia Rabideaux, the granddaughter of Peter and Margaret.

I say appears in the case of George and Julia, because Metis genealogy can be tricky.  It requires lots of double and triple checking.  Here’s what I came across when I once tried to find an unidentified voyageur known only as Baptiste:

Voyageurs by Given Name (1850 Census La Pointe and Bad River)

Sometimes it feels like for every Souverain Denis or Argapit Archambeau, there are at least 15 Jean-Baptiste Cadottes, 12 Charles Bresettes, 10 Francois Belangers and 8 Joseph DeFoes.  Those old Canadian names had a way of persisting through the generations.  If you were a voyageur at La Pointe in 1850, there was nearly a 30% chance your name was Jean-Baptiste. To your friends you might be John-Baptist, Shabadis, John, JB, or Battisens, and you might be called something else entirely when the census taker came around.

The final column on Daniel Johnson’s census asked whether the enumerated person was “deaf and dumb, blind, insane, idiotic, pauper, or convict.”  20 year-old Isabella Tremble, living in the household of Charles Oakes, received the unfortunate designation of idiotic.  26-year-old Francois DeCouteau did not have a mark in that column, but had “Invalid” entered in for his occupation.    It’s fair to say we’ve made some progress in the treatment of people with disabilities.

Final Thoughts

I am not usually a numbers person when it comes to history.  I’ll always prefer a good narrative story, to charts, tables, and cold numbers.  Sometimes, though, the numbers help tell the story.  They can help us understand why when Louis Gurnoe was killed, no one was held accountable.  At the very least, they can help show us that the society he lived in was under significant stress, that the once-prestigious occupation of his forefathers would no longer sustain a family, and that the new American power structure didn’t really understand or care who his people were.

Ultimately, the census is about America describes itself.  From the very beginning, it’s never been entirely clear if in E. pluribus unum we should emphasize the pluribus or the unum.  We struggled with that in 1850, and we still struggle today.  To follow the Department of Commerce v. New York citizenship case, I recommend Scotusblog.  For more census posts about this area in the 19th century, keep following Chequamegon History.

Sources, Data, and Further Reading
  • Paap, Howard D. Red Cliff, Wisconsin a History of an Ojibwe Community ; Volume 1 The Earliest Years: the Origin to 1854. North Star Press of St. Cloud, Inc., 1854.
  • Satz, Ronald N. Chippewa Treaty Rights: the Reserved Rights of Wisconsin’s Chippewa Indians in Historical Perspective. University of Wisconsin Press, 1997.
  • Original Census Act of May 23, 1850 (includes form and instructions for marshals). (PDF)
  • Compiled data spreadsheets (Google Drive Folder) I’ll make these a lot more user friendly in future census posts.  By the time it occurred to me that I should include my tables in this post, most of them were already done in tally marks on scrap paper.
  • Finally, these are the original pages, scanned from microfilm by FamilySearch.com.  I included the image for Fond du Lac (presumably those living on the Wisconsin side of the St. Louis River) even though I did not include it in any of the data above.

 

 

By Amorin Mello

The Ashland press 1877

Originally published in the March 2nd, 1878, issue of The Ashland Press.  Transcribed with permission from Ashland Narratives by K. Wallin and published in 2013 by Straddle Creek Co.

Early Recollections of Ashland

by Asaph Whittlesey

(Continuation of number two.)

So much in harmony with the views we then entertained, are the words of Hon. W. E. Allen, published in the Ashland Press of the 16th inst., as to induce me to quote largely there from.  He says:

“That beautiful harbor on which Ashland is situated, was as I believe, intended for use.  No prettier harbor or site in the wide world for a city, than that on which the little town now stands.  The beautiful rising ground at the south and east of it, with the clear water of the queen of the lakes bathing her shore, hemmed in with a crescent forest circle, extending for hundreds of miles inland, made a picture of nature that to be known and felt must be seen.  I was almost transported with rapture at the beauty – the profuse beauty on every side displayed, and as we passed away from all this loveliness, beyond the green islands, which make the bay of Ashland the most commodious and safe harbor on this inland sea, I turned my eyes back upon it till it faded out of sight, and felt a sorrow that I was forced to leave it so soon.

Ashland is a lovely place, its surrounding country equally lovely, and the day is coming when she will be at the main west commercial end of the lake on which she stands, with a railroad running west to the shore of the Pacific Ocean, where the grand city west of the Rocky Mountains is yet to be built.  Then the little town of Ashland will take her place with the commercial cities of our state, which nature has given her such just claims to.”

 Number III

The steamer Samuel Ward was built in 1847 by John Wolvertine for Captain Samuel Ward and his nephew Captain Eber Ward.  It was portaged between Lake Huron and Lake Superior at least twice before the Soo Locks opened in 1855.

Next your attention is called to the landing of the first steamboat at Ashland, which took place in the afternoon of Sep. 7th, 1854.  Captain Moses Easterbrook, of the steamer Sam Ward, wishing to have the honor of being the first to land a steamer at the new city, extended a general invitation to the people of La Pointe to join him in the excursion, at the same time having on board some fifty or sixty barrels of freight consigned to “Asaph Whittlesey, Ashland, Wis.”

About 5 p.m. of the day mentioned, the steamer Sam Ward driver dropped anchor directly in front of the ravine at the foot of Main Street, where she unloaded her freight by small boat, and while so doing the “freedom of the city” was extended to her passengers by Major Whittlesey.  I have never known the exact number of mosquitoes taken on board the steamer by this party, but as each member thereof, with palm in hand, were unceasing in their gestures, it was evident that this is what they were engaged in.

SECOND HOME BUILT UPON THE “TOWN SITE”

The 1854 Treaty at La Pointe was being negotiated during this time, which took thirty days to complete.

The second home built upon the “town site” was built 13×15, one story, and was designed soon to become a store house.  This was built upon lot 5 in block 6, the foundation logs only being now visible; it was completed Sep. 12th, 1854, and formed a temporary house for us.  The economy of its apartments deserve further notice, especially as it was in reality the first “Chequamegon” of the place.  The lower and only floor thereto, was of “puncheons,” so adjusted as to give thorough ventilation, while directly over the bed in which my wife and I slept, a “chicken roost” had been constructed, entrance to which the fowls made from the outside at the top, up an inclined pole.  Thus at midnight hour and at early dawn, our “feathered associates” told us of our entrance upon the duties of a new day.  As a historical fact of the same period, I will add that a family of skunks had their headquarters underneath the house, and could readily be seen through the “Puncheons,” as also while meandering the premises.

The third and

ONLY REMAINING CABIN BUILT UPON THE “TOWN SITE” DURING 1854

The source of lumber was probably Ervin Leihy’s sawmill.

Example of a contemporary mud oven. Not historically accurate.
Amorin Mello © 2005.

was 20×30, built upon lot 6 and block 6, and is in a remarkable state of preservation to this day, except that the “stoop” in front and “room back” for a kitchen with the mud oven opening into it are wanting.  So many and important were the events intimately associated with the history of this house, that a somewhat extended notice thereof seems unavoidable.  The logs of which it was built were cut by my hands and with only the help of a yoke of oxen, (driven through the woods from Odanah.)  Mrs. Whittlesey and myself raised the building to the chamber floor and adjusted the joist for the second story.  (Mr. Kilborn being in attendance upon Rev. Wheeler, then dangerously ill.)

By the middle of November we found ourselves fairly settled in a neatly finished cabin of massive proportions, having floors of lumber, being also provided with a “kitchen” with “mud oven,” “mud chimney,” etc., so that it took rank as the most “aristocratic” house in the place.

A few of the events which unite to make this cabin historical will begin in our next number.

To be continued in Number IV

By Amorin Mello

… continued from Our First Visitor.

Transcribed and shared by Robert J. Nelson
from the July 7th, 1900, issue of the Bayfield County Press :

Incidents of Early Days on Lake Superior

At the Falls of Bad River # 2

By Ervin Leihy

[Note – my communication in your issue on June 2, starts out with the date, November 1864.  This is a mistake of the printer. The date was 1846]

These tools were likely purchased at La Pointe during the 1846 annuity payments.   Possible merchants include Julius Austrian and Vincent Roy Jr.

About the middle of October, 1846, after our return from LaPointe, our list of tools and implements was about as follows: two serviceable saws, one or two old ones, well past their days of greatest usefulness, one broad ax, one crosscut saw, two shaving knives, one handsaw, one square, and one nail hammer, a few pounds of nails and two or three heavy grub hoes.

There were four of us in camp; Captain Joseph Wood, Charlie Rowley – the linguist – John Smith and myself.  Question arose: what shall we do?  Let’s build a house.  Where?  Let’s go up to the Falls.  Captain Wood and the writer went.  We found a romantic and lovely spot surrounded by dense forest, on the east of high bluff covered with tall pines, on the North and West with Maple, Elm, basswood and other timber of heavy growth.  The rumble and rippling on the falls with the surrounding scenery was almost enchanting.  Well, a place was selected, a stake was struck, and the next day work was commenced.  Captain Wood took the broad ax, Smith and I an ax each, Rowley – the same linguist – he was suffering with the cut foot, was selected as cook.

Detail of Ervin Leihy’s mill on the La Pointe (Bad River) Reservation from Charles Whittlesey‘s 1860 Geological Map of the Penokie Range in Geology of Wisconsin: Volume III; plate XX-214.

Work was now the order of the day.  The plan of the house was 20 x 24, squared timber 6 inches thick, floor and all.  No friction or delay.  Timber for the floor and walls was soon produced.  Now, how to get the timber to the stake?  There was but one way; no choice.  Smith and I must do the job.  A rude sled or go-devil was made, one end of a stick of timber was placed on this and away it went to its destination.  The process was kept up until the timber was all on the ground.  The sills, and 24 feet long, were placed 20 feet apart outside to outside, on these the flooring 6 inches thick, was placed; on top of this the walls went up 11 feet without friction.  Now comes the tug-of-war; the gables and the roof.

Talk about Robinson Crusoe, he didn’t have to build a house.  He found a cave and only he had to do was crawl in.  But the gables went up, a beam across the center and a pair of rafters, 6 x 6 on top of this for roof boards.  Norway pine poles 24 feet long, hewn nicely, 2 inches thick and placed 10 inches, center to center, and on top of these A No. 1 singles, 2 feet long.  Now for the last and worst job of all, fireplace in the chimney.  Sand rock in the opposite bank of the river was plentiful and the old ax’s, the same old team in the same old go-devil was in active operation, sand, clay and ashes were mixed up for mortar and the fireplace went up.

Wood, Smith and I often talked, mourned and dreamed about a grindstone.  During our quarrying operation one day, down came the slab of slatey sandrock about 2 1/2 feet in diameter and 4 to 5 inches thick.  “Holy Moses!” said I, “Smith, if you will help me make a grindstone I will help you make three potato baskets next spring.”  “Agreed” was the prompt reply.  One grindstone ones known to exist in the Lake Superior area and that was in the government blacksmith shop at LaPointe for use of the Indians.

List of mid-1840’s La Pointe Indian Sub-Agency employees including Peter Chouinard, William E. VanTassel, and the previously unknown Carpenter.
~ Thirtieth Congress – First Session. Ex. Doc. No. 26. House of Representatives.  Persons Employed In The Indian Department.  Letter from The Secretary of War, Transmitting a statement of persons employed in the Indian Department.  January 26, 1848.

Before snow fell we had picked up a number of worn-out and castaway Indian axes, some with the initials P.C. – Peter Chounard – who was probably the first man to pound hot iron on Lake Superior, and some of them the initials W.E.V.T. – W. E. Van Tassel – for many nights and Sundays thereafter, those axes might have been heard pecking away at the old sand rock until finally after many days a frame was made, a crank adjusted and a grindstone came into existence.

Wood’s eloquent remark: “a pretty good mechanical job, boys.”  It did good service for many years.  The chimney was finally completed and on the eighth day of January, 1847, we moved into the second house built in Wisconsin, Northup Chippewa Falls, outside of LaPointe.

By Amorin Mello

… continued from At the Falls of Bad River.

Transcribed and shared by Robert J. Nelson
from the June 2nd, 1900, issue of the Bayfield County Press :

Incidents of Early Days on Lake Superior

Out First Visitor

By Ervin Leihy

Correct year is 1846.

Lake November, 1864, and late in the evening, a slight noise was heard outside of our cabin at the Falls.  The door was opened and a Indian entered, clad in regulation uniform, as follows: cotton shirt, a blanket coat with of same material attached, a breech cloth, leggings of blanket and moccasins of buckskin.

Gisinaa
it is cold (weather)
~ Ojibwe People’s Dictionary

Rowley, who had picked up a few words of Chippewa wanted to show off, stepped up to the Indian, placed his hand on the bare part of the Indians anatomy and inquired ke-se-nah?  The Indian surveyed him for moment, placed his hand on Rowley’s cheek in repeated Rowley’s question, ke-se-nah, (cold)?  This provided a burst of merriment from the “tender footed,” who could not talk “Injun”, in which the Indian joined. Rowley talked no more Indian that night.

Detail of Ervin Leihy’s sawmill on the La Pointe (Bad River) Reservation from Charles Whittlesey‘s 1860 Geological Map of the Penokie Range in Geology of Wisconsin: Volume III; plate XX-214.

The visitor was evidently a young hunter returning from an unsuccessful hunt.  A place was made for him near the fire, he was housed and fed and in the morning departed for his Lodge, six or 7 miles away.

This was not his last visit.  After the new house was finished – now well underway – became again and brought his two best friends with him, with presents of nice fresh fish from the Lake, which were much enjoyed.  These visits were repeated quite frequently by the three friends.  They would come much out of their way to bring us presents of Partridge, venison, most meat, just made Maple sugar or something else intended to please the strangers.

If you can identify who Wi-nah-kis, Pa-me-sa and Wa-bud-o were, or have a more accurate way to spell their names in Ojibwe, please let us know.

Later on when they came to see the product of our little field their expressions of delight were extravagant in the extreme.  They had never seen such potatoes, turnips, corn, squashes, etc.  They were always ready and willing to help in planting, hoeing and harvesting.  They were always well paid for their work and always well pleased with their pay.  The names of these three friends were Wi-nah-kis, Pa-me-sa and Wa-bud-o.  There were others equally friendly, honest and deserving; in fact, the great majority of the Chippewa were comparatively so.  Of course there were some “dark sheep” some in fact quite black.  These, when detected, were given a “cold shoulder” or a hot reception, as the occasion seem to require, but cases of the last named were quite rare.  But that generation has passed away; few, very few, I knew on Bad River survives, and as for the present generation, alas! they are becoming civilized.

To be continued in At the Falls of Bad River #2

By Amorin Mello

This is a reproduction of a memoir published by Ervin Barnes Leihy, who became known as Nigigoons (Little Otter) by the Chippewas of Bad River.  Leihy is emerging as of the more colorful characters from the post-1842 Treaty of La Pointe era in Chequamegon History, when he was one of the first non-natives to settle on the newly Ceded Territory surrounding La Pointe.  Leihy moved to the Falls of Bad River in 1846 where he built his sawmill.  After the 1854 Treaty, Leihy became associated with the Early Settlement of the Bad River Indian Reservation.  During the post-1860’s era, Leihy moved to Bayfield where he became a successful business person.  Leihy’s general store and brownstone house are still prominent buildings in Bayfield today.

 

Details of settlements on the La Pointe Reservation from Charles Whittlesey's 1860 Geological Map of the Penokie Range.

Details of Ervin Leihy’s sawmill on the La Pointe Reservation from Charles Whittlesey‘s 1860 Geological Map of the Penokie Range from Geology of Wisconsin: Volume III, plate XX-214.  Also shown are the Opinike (or Potatoe) River Property, Ironton, and McEwen’s Sawmill.

 

Bayfield County Press

March 31, 1900

[Transcribed and shared by Robert J. Nelson, 2016]

Incidents of Early Days on Lake Superior

At the Falls of Bad River

By Ervin Leihy

 

“Bayfield, Wis., June 3 [1901].
Ervin Leihy, one of the first white settlers to come to the northern part of Wisconsin died at his home in this city last week. He was born in Oswego county, N. Y., October 12, 1822. His early life was passed on a farm and at 18 moved to Illinois. Later he bought a farm at Bad River, Ashland county, and in 1846 moved onto it. In 1870 he moved to Bayfield, built his present home and opened a general store which he conducted for a number of years. While living at Bad River he was a member of the town and county boards of Ashland county for a number of years and in 1871 and 1872 was a member of the town board of Bayfield. Besides these he held numerous other offices. He was a public-spirited man, had plenty of means and was always ready to assist in anything that would tend to advance the interests of the town in which he resided.”
Wisconsin Weekly Advocate, June 6, 1901.

Next day our arrival at the Falls (October 5, 1846) was spent in looking over the surroundings.  The murmur of the stream, the stream itself and the surrounding scenery, reminded me of the scenes of my earliest recollections on the banks of the Salmon River, Oswego County, New York.  Here to his game in the forest, fish and the stream and sugar in the trees; and the soil is good.

Potatoes are worth one dollar per bushel and corn two dollars per bushel.  Those were my musings as I sat on a big rock at the head of the falls.  Here were many of the necessaries and some of the luxuries of life and all for the taking and no taxes to pay – all as free as air.

Captain Joseph Wood is reportedly the only person wounded during the 1835 Toledo War over the state boundary between Michigan and Ohio.

To say that I was delighted would be putting it mildly.  I asked the captain what were his plans.  He had none; he simply liked to live in the woods.  Here, let me digress.  Captain Wood was a man about 53 years old, had gained perhaps earned the prefix to his name during what was termed the “Toledo War,” early a squabble between the states of Ohio and Michigan for jurisdiction over a strip of land in which Toledo was the principal town.  Wood being deputy sheriff of Monroe County at that time was put in command of a company of Michigan troops to help all the claims of the state of Michigan.  Withal, a genial and agreeable companion.  Not much time was lost.

Detail of Bad River Falls omitted from Barber's second survey of 1856.

Detail of Leihy’s sawmill and Bad River Falls omitted from the Barber brothers’ survey of the La Pointe (Bad River) Reservation.

I have soon acquired a half interest in the “Hermitage” which consisted of a long, hut about 14 feet square, a fireplace in one corner, and covered with shakes; nearly an acre of cleared land, 20 or 30 bushels of potatoes and perhaps as many more of rutabaga; a couple of axes and a hoe or two.

Brother George had gone with his boat and men.  I began to talk to Capt. Wood about LaPointe of which I heard so much.  He finally said, “perhaps you would like to go there?”   I told him I certainly would.

Charles William Wulff Borup and Charles Henry Oakes married into the powerful Beaulieu Family of Ojibwe mixed-bloods traders.
In addition to their fur trade, the American Fur Company began prospecting for copper in 1845.

Well, we found our way to LaPointe, and an interesting place.  It certainly was.  Here the North American fur company was in full bloom, under the efficient management of Messrs. Borup and Oakes.  The traders, had already left with their outfits for their various stations at Lac du Flambeau, Lake Courerille, Sandy Lake, Leech Lake, Grand Portage and other points, not to return until May or June when they were expected to return laden with bear, beaver, otter, Fischer, Martin, mink and other valuable fur.

Reverend Sherman Hall ~ Madeline Island Museum

Reverend Sherman Hall
~ Madeline Island Museum

Here to was established a Catholic mission under the care of father Baraga; also a Presbyterian mission in under the care of Rev. Sherman Hall, and all in flourishing condition.
Fishing was also carried on to a considerable extent among the islands by the Fur company.  The side-wheeler Julia Palmer, have been hauled over the portage at the Soo and had just made one trip as far West as LaPointe.  The rest of the fleet on Lake Superior consisted of five small sail vessels, viz. the Merchant, Swallow, Algonquin, Fur Trader and the Chippewa.

James P. Hays was assigned to the La Pointe Indian sub-Agency in 1844.

A Mr. Hays was subbing in agent and Mr. Van Tassel was the government blacksmith at that time at LaPointe.

We stayed but a few days, procured a few necessary tools, some supplies for the winter and return to the Falls.

There were now [four] in camp.  Captain Joseph Wood, Charlie Rowley, John Smith and myself.  Wood, Smith and I went to work on the second house built in what is now Ashland County outside of LaPointe.

To be continued…

By Amorin Mello

WPA_Main_Image1

United States. Works Progress Administration:

Chippewa Indian Historical Project Records 1936-1942  

(Northland Micro 5; Micro 532)

Abstract

“Records of a WPA project to collect Chippewa Indian folklore sponsored by the Great Lakes Indian Agency and directed by Sister M. Macaria Murphy of St. Mary’s Indian School, Odanah, Wisconsin. Included are narrative and statistical reports, interview outlines, and operational records; and essays concerning Chippewa religious beliefs and rituals, food, liquor, transportation, trade, clothing, games and dances, and history. Also includes copies of materials from the John A. Bardon collection concerning the Superior, Wisconsin region, La Pointe baptismal records, the family tree of Qui-ka-ba-no-kwe, and artwork of Peter Whitebird.”


 

Reel 1, Envelope 2, Item 1

Editor’s Note: This article is the result of the information given by the staff, also gleanings from the “Bardon Collection.”

EARLY TRAILS AND WATER ROUTES

John Alexander Bardon Papers, 1921-1937.
The Bardon Brothers.James, Thomas and John A. Bardon came early to Superior City and upheld her doubtful fortunes in the days of trial, never losing faith in her prospective greatness. They have not toiled and watched and waited in vain. The expected railways have been built; the improved harbor, with dredge boats, well built piers and lighthouse, has been completed. Surveys and terminal approaches of other roads insure the commercial prosperity of the city. Thomas has for some years been a resident of Ashland, Wisconsin.”
~ Fifty Years in the Northwest, by W. H. C. Folsom, 1888, page 258.

Bardon in his Collections says, “From the earliest times, the waterways were the Red Man’s highways: naturally the fur-trader, explorer, and missionary followed the same routes.”

For hundreds of years before the white man came to live in this country, the Indians rarely traveled on land except to portage their canoes in taking short cuts from one body of water to another, thus cutting off considerable distance for extensive traveling.  Then, too, game was plentiful on the banks of rivers and lakes.  For these reasons the Indian preferred traveling by water to that of land.

For the white man in the early 50’s as well as for the Indian, transportation could be carried on only by water in the lowlands and by trails in the uplands, therefore, canoes were extensively used in the former and quite commonly employed in the latter, for the highlands, too, and their lakes and streams.

Water Routes

The route between the Bois Brulé and Saint Croix Rivers has been featured on Chequamegon History before in our Wisconsin Territory Delegation and Lt. Allen Expedition series.

An important route connecting the Great Lakes and the Mississippi was by way of the Brule and the St. Croix Rivers.  This water route began at Lake Superior, ascended the Brule River to Lake St. Croix then descended the St. Croix River to the Mississippi. The first eastern settler, missionaries, explorers, traders and Indians used this route very extensively.

Henry Schoolcraft’s 1831 journey along this route is featured in Chapters 38-39 of his book Personal Memoirs of a Residence of Thirty Years with the Indian Tribes on the American Frontiers, 1851, pages 361-380.

Another route connecting Lake Superior and the Mississippi River was made by the historian, Schoolcraft, over a hundred years ago.  This historic water route began at Chequamegon Bay, ascended the Bad River, and descended the Namekagon and the St. Croix Rivers to the Mississippi.

A route by way of Fish Creek from Chequamegon Bay was also important.  Indian travelers portaged their canoes from Fish Creek to White River and down this river for several miles and again portaged to Lake Namakagon, from thence to Namakagon River, thence to the St. Croix and down to the Mississippi.  This same route could be taken to the Flambeau and the Wisconsin Rivers by going upstream on the St. Croix.

Detail of Fish Creek Slough (T47N R5W).

Several trails converged at the mouth of Fish Creek on Chequamegon Bay. ~ Wisconsin Public Land Survey Records

Trails

In traveling by trail most Indians traveled on foot, but many used dog-teams and toboggans, and in some cases, ponies.  The Lake Superior region was a permanent camping ground for the Chippewa.  This country for many miles around, and numerous trails branching off in all directions, far too many for us to mention each individually.  Here we shall point out only the more important ones.

Talking Trail

“Talking Trail”, was so named on account of its beginning at a popular meeting or camping site situated where the city of Washburn now stands.  “Talking Trail” began at this camping ground, thence it extended south, to Fish Creek, then south-west for a few miles, finally west to Superior, thus connecting Chequamegon Bay and Superior.

Houghton was a small settlement at what is now the City of Washburn. (Detail from A.H. Barber's survey during August of 1855)

The “Talking Trail” began at the mouth of Vanderventer Creek near Washburn, and was also known as the Council Trail.”
Wisconsin Public Land Survey Records

Bad River Trail

Ervin Barnes Leihy’s sawmill was featured in First Sawmills on the Bad River Reservation.

Whether or not this old trail was specifically known as designated above, the title is quite appropriate, since it began at the Leihy Mill on Bad River, Odanah, ran south to Tyler’s Forks, thence to Lake Namakagon and on to Lac Court Oreilles Reservation.

Indian War Trail

The reason for this name is evident:  This trail was much used by the Chippewa in time of strife with the Sioux.  The War Trail ran east to Montreal River and on to Porcupine Mountains, then to Ontonagon, thence to the copper country, including L’Anse and Marquette, Michigan.  Mrs. Frank La Fernier of the Bad River Reservation, (1937) whose father, Mr. James lived to the age of one hundred-three years, corroborated this statement.  Mr. James carried United States mail over this trail from our section of the country.

Moccasin Mike Trail

Ozaagii ~ Geni.com

Chief Joseph Ozaagii was a cosigner of the 1854 Treaty at La Pointe on behalf of the Fond Du Lac Band.
~ Geni.com

“Moccasin Mike Trail”, was only another name for the “Osaugee1 Trail”.  It was one of the most historic trails, and was evidently named after the local chief, Osaugee, who was the father-in-law of Charles Lord, a latter resident of Solon Springs, but originally a pioneer Quebec trader and voyageur.

This famous trail extended from the south of the St. Louis River, down Wisconsin Pointe, thence along the southern shore of Lake Superior to La Pointe, Bayfield, Ashland, Ontonagon, and the “Copper Country” of Michigan.

A branch of this trail led south, along the Montreal River to central Wisconsin, and was the route of the fur trader from Lake Superior to Green Bay.  In the late 50’s and early 60’s, this trail was the land route East and South, and was much used by the early missionaries, traders and pioneer settlers.  It became the regular mail route between all “south shore” points.  Owen Sheridan and R.S. Mclean were two of the early mail carriers on this trail, packing on foot during the summer and fall, and travelling by dog team in winter.

"Osawgee Beach" postcard, circa 1920. ~ Zenith City Online

“Osawgee Beach” postcard, circa 1920.
~ Zenith City Online

When Superior was started in 1853, a new branch of this trail began at the Nemadji River crossing and followed the mainland east, practically along the present high-ways 10 and 2, through what is now Alloues and Itasca, then east over the route of the present drive to an intersection with the main trail near Dutchman’s Creek.  The early settlers remember it well.  The density of the woods through which it passed kept the trail free from drifting snows and cutting winter winds.  Snow shoes, toboggans, and dog teams were a powerful aid to travelers over this early trail.

Detail of Michael Bright Sr.'s trading post on Saint Louis Bay near Oneota (West Duluth). ~ General Land Office Records

Detail of Michael S. Bright Sr.‘s trading post on Saint Louis Bay near Oneota (West Duluth).
~ General Land Office Records

Douglas County Board member Michael S. Bright Jr. was the son of “Moccasin Mike” S. Bright Sr., who was a Superior, Wisconsin attorney and a partner in the firm of Bright and Hayes.  His record book includes notes on the Buffalo/Armstrong land claim in Duluth.

With the march of civilization, the settler, and the coming of regularly laid out roads, this intensely historic trail became practically eliminated.  In the early 90’s, the Board of Douglas County in conjunction with the city of Superior saw the need of an all-year-round road to Lake Superior and Wisconsin Point.  The project was sponsored by Michael S. Bright, now of Duluth, then a member of the County Board from the second ward of Superior.  As the Supervisor of the Ward was always dubbed some Indian name, Mr. Bright fell heir to the sobriquet of “Moccasin Mike”.  Because the rejuvenated road followed the old Osaugee Trail, and Mr. Bright had been very active in its building, the County Board officially designated the new road: “The Moccasin Mike Trail”.

1 Chief Osaugee was one of the signers of the important Treaty with the Chippewa in 1854.  In Vol 2 “Treaties”, compiled by Chas. J. Kappler, the chief’s name is spelled: O sau’gee.  The Chippewa spelling is: Osagi, the a being pronounced like a in ah, and the i like e in he.

 

TRAILS BECOME HIGHWAYS

Northwest Ordinance of 1787 and the Wisconsin Constitution (1848):

“… the navigable waters leading into the Mississippi and St. Lawrence, and the carrying places between the same, shall be common highways and forever free …”

Many of the old Indian trails, especially those bordering on the southern shores of Lake Superior, have become permanent highways, and a number of these took their rise in our own village of Odanah.  One of these led to Lac du Flambeau, and is now our present U.S. No. 2.

Over-Ridge Trail

This one-time Indian trail ran through Hurley, Wisconsin, Ironwood, Bessemer, Wakefield, and beyond Marinesco, Michigan, where it turned south to Lac du Flambeau.  The Indians called the trail: “Ka-ke-way-wa-jwie-no-con”, meaning – “Over Ridge Trail”.  At the turning point, it was necessary to cross a small river called “Ka-ba-no-ti-go-ge-wung” or “Presque Isle River”.

White River Trail

Another old Indian trail, leading West out of Odanah followed the [????] of our present U.S. No. 2; after crossing the Chicago and North Western railroad just a few feet west of the steel Railroad Bridge at the west entrance of the village, this trail entered the outskirts of Ashland where it turned directly towards Lake Superior.  From thence it followed what is now Front Street in Ashland, turning south at the present site of the Knight Hotel.  Following Ellis Avenue, it later crossed “Wa-bi-si-bi,” or White River.  Mr. Scott, one of our historical staff says, “At that time there was a solid jam of flood wood at that point.  Elm trees blew down on top of the jam, making it sufficiently solid for all kinds of Indian traffic.”

Detail of Ashland City, LaPointe County (T47N R4W).

Detail of trails in Ashland east to Odanah and south to the White River. ~ Wisconsin Public Land Survey Records

This Indian Trail ran through Fifield, Wisconsin then straight east to Lac du Flambeau, from thence to Wausau, which was one of the trading posts of the early days.  It is now our present U.S. Highway, No. 13.

N.B.  An old wagon road known as the St. Paul Road was once a trail when the United States mail was carried on foot.  In later years a wagon road was constructed by the War Department for military purposes.

See article following on “Military or St. Paul Road,” By W.P. Bigboy.


 

Reel 1, Envelope 2, Item 2

MILITARY, OR ST. PAUL, ROAD

By W.P. Bigboy

Old Military Road in Bayfield starts on Highway 13 near Newago’s Fish Market, and follows part of Star Route Road into the Moquah Barrens.

The road referred to in the “Recollections of Joseph Bell,” was the old military, or St. Paul, road, built by the government during the Civil War.

Michael Buskey had a close relationship with Antoine Gordon’s family as stewards of the same trail.

It followed the trail blazed out in earlier years by “Old Michel Buskey,” later identified as a keeper of a stopping place along this route.  These hostelries could be found along the entire route and were for the accommodation and convenience of the early mail packers and travelers, who in the pursuit of their regular missions found the water ways or routes an impediment in the early and proper discharge of their assigned duties.  Their locations were spaced by about twenty miles, and in most cases homesteads located near lakes were designated as such.  Here mail carriers and other weary travelers, becoming too fatigued to continue farther, could pause and rest, and then continue on their way.

1) Moose Lake is near Wanebo Road in the Moquah Barrens.
2) Loon Lake is east of Iron River.
3) Buskey Bay and Spider Lake are popular destinations south of Iron River.

Leaving Bayfield, the first stopping place was at Moose Lake and the second at Loon Lake.  These two places were located between Iron River and Bayfield, somewhere in the “Barrens.”  The third stop was at Spider Lake.  Here lived “Old Michel Buskey,” original trail blazer.  His sunny disposition led to the designation of his cheery home as one of the stopping places; and for many years, not only the mail carriers, but many other weary travelers enjoyed the hospitality rendered by this family.

4) Island Lake is north of Barnes.
5) Bayfield Road leads to Gordon and the Saint Croix River.  Read the comments section of Oshogay for further details.

Leaving this place the next stopping place was at Island Lake, near Barnes of today.  The next or fifth stop was at Gordon considered the crossroad of the country.  Here the traveler usually made an over-night-stop, and enjoyed the hospitality of the village founder, Antoine Gordon.

John George Allen Morrison was the son of Allen Morrison, Sr. and nephew of William Morrison.  John signed the 1863 Treaty at Old Crossing and 1864 Treaty at Washington DC, and became Chief of Police at White Earth.
6) Yellow Lake is near where Albert McEwen was found murdered.
7) Saint Croix Falls.

From Gordon the road continued in a southwesterly direction until it reach near where the Namakagon empties into the St. Croix River.  Here John Morrison, the grandfather of the Odanah Morrison, maintained a small hostelry for the accommodation of the traveling public for years.  From there the road continued on to Yellow Lake, where another stopping place was located, then the road continued on to St. Croix Falls, where the traffic was ferried across the St. Croix, thence continuing on to St. Paul.

The road was not turnpiked as are the roads of today, but deep gullies and ravines were bridged with stout timbers and lumber, strong enough to bear the heavier armament of the United States Army in the event it became necessary to use the road for the transportation of army equipment.


 

Reel 1, Envelope 12, Item 3.

EARLY EXPERIENCE

Statement of Joseph Bell, [90?] yrs.
Interviewed by Dan Morrison.

I am in no position to give you much of a story that anyone would care to read, as I am not educated.  During my childhood days we did not have the opportunity of going to school that the children now have, and all that I know is what I picked up myself.  I have a few things in mind, however, that may be of interest to the present and succeeding generations, pertaining to some old people who were brought up at La Pointe on Madeline Island.

Antoine Gordon from Noble Lives of a Noble Race (pg. 207) published by the St. Mary’s Industrial School in Odanah.

Portrait of Antoine Gordon from Noble Lives of a Noble Race by St. Mary’s Industrial School (Odanah), page 207.

I will tell you about William Gordon’s father raised on Madeline Island, who belongs ot the Lake Superior Band of Chippewa Indians.  In the very early days when the United States Government caused roads to be built for the purpose of opening up the country, one of the first roads to be constructed ran from Bayfield to Eau Claire Lakes.  This road opened up a vast section of the country, and when new roads were built in those times, people, as a rule, followed in quest for new locations and homes.  William Gordon’s [illegible] father did just this.  He followed the road from the starting point at Bayfield, running south for some distance, thence west to what they call Moose Lake.  This was known as the first station and stopping place.  The second station or stopping place was Moon Lake.  The third station was at Spider Lake, known now as Silver Lake.  The fourth place was Gordon’s, where William Gordon’s father settled.  The present town of Gordon represents the first settlement of William Gordon’s father.  The fifth stopping place was Yellow River; the sixth, Grantsburg and the seventh, was St. Croix Falls.  This was the last stopping place as far as I remember.

1820 Cass Schoolcraft

The 1820 Cass-Schoolcraft expedition mapped the “Great Trail to the Folle Avoines Country”  beginning at the mouth of the Sioux River.
~ Narrative journal of travels from Detroit northwest through the great chain of American lakes to the sources of the Mississippi River in the year 1820, by Henry Rowe Schoolcraft, page 105.

As I said before, these roads opened up a beautiful section of the country, full of wild game, plenty of fur-bearing animals, with many lakes and rivers where fishing was at its best.  one could easily make a good living by hunting and trapping, and there was always plenty to eat.  Many of the Indians who lived at La Pointe on Madeline Island left the island, following the direction of the newly constructed road.  Though they were members of the La Pointe Band of the Lake Superior Chippewa, many remained in the new settlements, and the Indians remaining along the St. Croix River and other adjacent places finally lost their identity on the La Pointe Band and were later known as the “Lost Tribe.”

My great grandfather told me that the Chippewa lived on the south side of Lake St. Croix and the Sioux Indians lived on the north side, both claiming ownership of the St. Croix River.  The question of full right of the St. Croix River kindled a feeling of animosity between the two tribes, and failing to arrive at any suitable agreement, war was declared between them, the aim of which was to settle the ownership of the river once and for all.  In these encounters the Chippewa conquered the Sioux, driving them out of the country entirely.  In their retreat, the Sioux followed a westerly direction, finally stopping where the city of St. Paul stands today.

By Amorin Mello

marangoin1

MARANGOIN RIVER
IRON PROPERTY

EMBRACING
FIVE HUNDRED AND SIXTY ACRES,
IN SECTIONS 16 AND 20,

TOWN 44, NORTH RANGE 5 WEST,

ASHLAND COUNTY, WISCONSIN.

———–
CLEVELAND, OHIO:
FAIRBANKS, BENEDICT & CO., PRINTERS, HERALD OFFICE.
1865.
—–

Detail of Township 44 North, Range 5 West, from Charles Whittlesey’s 1860 Geological Map of the Penokie Range.

Detail of Township 44 North, Range 5 West, from Charles Whittlesey’s 1860 Geological Map of the Penokie Range.

The Penokie Iron Belt rises from low ground into an elevated mountain ridge, near the Fourth Principal Meridian, and extends westerly as far as Range 4 W., T. 44 North, where it drops off into the Valley of Bladder Lake. The iron stratum probably extends in the same general direction, beneath the surface ; but I have been unable to find any out-crop of the ore until after crossing the Marangoin Fork in T. 44, N. R. 5 W. Over this interesting space of about nine (9) miles the country is lower, and covered with the drift materials to a great depth. On the west bank of the Marangoin, in Section 16, T. 44, R. 5, a bold cliff is seen, as a prominent land mark over the country, rising to a level with the Iron Range at Bladder Lake. Here the Penokie system re-appears, embracing a band of magnetic ore, in all respects like that on the main waters of Bad River in Ranges 2 and 3 West. This outburst, or uplift of the strata rises to a height of 200 or 250 feet above the river, and 900 to 1000 feet above Lake Superior It is composed of the same quartz rocks, lying in the same order – the iron near the summit, – has a mural face or bluff to the South, and descends in a distance of about a mile and a-half beneath the level of Aitkin’s Lake on the West, as is represented in the accompanying map.

marangoin4

Atkins Lake may have been named in honor of William Alexander Aitken.
“The second branch [of the Bad River] from the west having, as I could learn, no name, I have called it theMaringouin Fork in my map in commemoration of the myraids of musquitoes that inhabit its banks, that being the name the half-breed French give to those pests of the Bad River region. The Maringouin has its sources near Long Lake, on the west, and on the south interlocks with the upper branches of the Chippewa River, among some lakes, enclosed by drift ridges, which are, by barometrical measurement, eight hundred and seventy-one feet above Lake Superior.”
~ Geological Report on That Portion of Wisconsin Bordering on the South Shore of Lake Superior. Surveyed in the Year 1849, Under the Direction of David Dale Owen, United States Geologist, by Charles Whittlesey, Head of Sub-Corps, page 432.

Beyond this Lake, which discharges into the Nemakagon – a branch of the St. Croix River, the rocks are again generally covered with the drift deposits as far as Lake Long, in Town 44, North Range 7 West. I have not seen iron to the South-west of Lake Aitkin.

The general strike of the uplift through Sections 20, 21 and 16 is North 60° East, and the Dip North West 30° to 50°; but at the west end there is some dislocation, and the strata are flatter. Like the formation at Penokie Gap, there is a series of quartz rocks several hundred feet in thickness tilted more or less to the North. Beneath the ferruginous portion, which is near the middle, there is the same fine-grained, thin-bedded, laminated quartz, approaching to novaculte 50 to 100 feet thick. Below this a bed of coarser sub-crystalline, thicker bedded gray quartz, standing prominent in cliffs, covered with tripe de roche.

Detail of Section 20, reproduced from the Geology of Wisconsin: Volume III.

Detail of Aitkins Lake in Section 20, reproduced from the Geology of Wisconsin: Volume III.

Overlying the iron stratum, is a heavy quartz bed, of a darker color, and more jointed, resembling horne blende rock, 300 to 400 feet thick. The iron portion is in thin layers, which deserve the name of slate. It is full of joints, and the pieces come out in regular forms, with straight edges, not rounded by exposure. It dips conformably with the other beds, to the North, and of course descends with them to great depths, ensuring an inexhaustible supply of ore. On Sections 16, where it is steeper than on Section 20, the breadth of the out-crop is less. Its thickness varies from twenty (20) to sixty (60) feet, although in places there are layers of ore, alternating with quartz beds, over a breadth of 100 feet. Most of the way across the South-west quarter of Section 16 – the out-crop is at or near the edge of the bluff, receding from it towards the East. The height of the bluff is about 100 feet, which gives an excellent opportunity to quarry and throw down the ore, and the atde of a mine.

No analysis of this ore has been made; but it resembles the magnetite of the Penokie Range so closely, as to leave no reasonable doubt of their identity.

Detail of Section 16, reproduced from the Geology of Wisconsin: Volume III.

Detail of the Marengo/Marangoin River in Section 16, reproduced from the Geology of Wisconsin: Volume III.

Four specimens of that ore have been analyzed by three different chemists, the average of which resulted in giving fifty-nine 88/100 (59.88) per cent. of metallic iron. Three of these specimens were selected by myself for the government collections, with the intention of representing an average of the ores. One of the four was selected by a company to represent the best quality of ore, and yielded sixty-eight (68) per cent., the others fifty-six to fifty-eight. A pure magnetic oxide yields 72.40, which is the richest known ore of iron. No injurious chemical ingredient, such as phosphorus, arsenic, or sulphur, has been as yet discovered in the Penokie ores. The only foreign substance is silex, or quartz, a material entirely harmless, and i easily melted with a proper flux. It is from fine grained magnetic ore that the choicest iron is made. This ore is not always as rich, or as easily wrought as the specular and hematite varieties, but invariably produces better iron. It is also very desirable as a mixture with those ores for the purpose f producing a higher grade of metal. Magnetic iron ore is calculated for Bloomeries or common forges, where wrought iron is produced direct from the ore with charcoal, by one process. On this location there is a fall in the Marangoin Fork which I estimate to be equal to a twenty foot overshot wheel. The river is rapid above, and is the most prominent branch of the Bad River. Its sources are in numerous lakes, swamps and springs, which give it great uniformity in the supply of water. The Northern slope of the mountain is heavily covered with hard wood timber for making charcoal, principally sugar-tree. There is an abundance of timber land and water power in the vicinity not yet entered. A horse trail has been cut from the East side of Section 16 to Sibley’s, which is reported to be on easy ground and a trifle over eleven (11) miles in length. From Sibley’s there is a road to Ashland at the head of Chequamegon Bay, a distance of twelve (12) miles due North. At the head of this Bay is a spacious harbor, safe in all weather. The Berlin & Bayfield Railroad will probably pass within ten miles of this property on the East, and the West the Bayfield Branch of the Hudson & Superior Railroad within twelve miles.

Detail of Sibley's saw-mill on the Marengo River from Charles Whittlesey's 1860 Geological Map of the Penokie Range.

Detail of Thaddeus Pembroke Sibley‘s saw-mill on the Marengo River from Charles Whittlesey’s 1860 Geological Map of the Penokie Range.

Thaddeus Pembroke Sibley was accused of being a “champion liar” in the Penokee Survey Incidents.
Ervin “Nigigoons” Leihy had a sawmill located at the Falls on Bad River.

The country on and North of the Iron Range is, for farming purposes, the best part of Lake Superior. Its climate is less severe, and the snow in winter less deep than at the Ontonagon and Portage Lake. Messrs. Sibley & Lehy have for many years raised cattle and farm crops successfully. Hay, oats, potatoes, barley and all kinds of vegetables grow better here than in many farming regions farther South. There is little doubt but wheat and rye can be raised when they are needed. The settlers and the Indians make large quantities of sugar from the sugar-maple, which is abundant and rich in sap. Thus a large part of the forage and the food required about iron works can be produced on the spot. There is no healthier region to be found in the United States. In Europe, a northern climate is considered favorable to the iron business, on account of the increased health and vigor of the laborers, as compared to warmer latitudes. When the railways now designed to connect the Mississippi and the Wisconsin Rivers with Lake Superior, shall have been built, or such portions as shall connect the Iron Range with navigation, charcoal furnaces may be erected at numerous points along the route, where there is timber and water power.

The Penokie Range is now held principally by three organized companies. In case there should be a failure, or a great delay, on the part of the Land Grant Railroad Company in prosecuting that work, on that part of the line from Lake Superior to the iron region, a road will probably by built by the parties interested. No business improves a new country, for the capital employed, so rapidly as the manufacture of iron. The rapid increase of the Town and County of Marquette, in Michigan, where in ten years, from 1855 to 1864 inclusive, the shipments of ore increased from 1,447 to 225,119 tons, is conclusive evidence of this fact. The iron business requires and introduces an intelligent class of mechanics and laborers, because skill and intelligence are necessary to carry it on successfully. For such iron as this pure magnetic ore will produce, there must always be a steady demand, at high prices. The competition for high grade charcoal iron is, and must always be, limited. Thus nature seems to have designed the region watered by the tributaries of the Bad River as an iron manufacturing country.

CHARLES WHITTLESEY.

Cleveland, Jan’y 1, 1865.

Mine shaft found on the Marangoin River Iron Property.

Abandoned mine shaft on the Marangoin River Iron Property.

By Amorin Mello

"Map Showing the Succession of Layers Along Potato River" by R. D. Irving, 1873. Reproduced from the Geology of Wisconsin: Volume III.

“Map Showing the Succession of Layers Along Potato River” by R. D. Irving, 1873. Reproduced from the Geology of Wisconsin: Volume III.

 

opinike0

OPINIKE

(OR POTATOE)

RIVER PROPERTY,

TOWN 46, NORTH RANGE 1, WEST, SECTIONS 16 & 17,

480 ACRES,

ASHLAND COUNTY, WISCONSIN.

————–

Detail of Township 45 North, Range 1 West, from Charles Whittlesey’s 1860 Geological Map of the Penokie Range.

Detail of the Opinike River Property and the Ironton trail in Township 45 North, Range 1 West, from Charles Whittlesey’s 1860 Geological Map of the Penokie Range.

The “Charter Oak” Mining Company occupied these premises in 1845-6 under permits from the government. The reports of the agents of the Company at that time state that copper bearing veins were found in the trap rocks next above the lower Falls. In geological characters and position, the rocks are the same here as at the Upper Falls of the Montreal, herein described. Next below the sandstone is the same black slate; below this the conglomerate, then alternating bands of sandstone and trap, and beneath them the main body of brown and amygdaloid trap. Like the Montreal River beds, they are here tilted up at a high angle to the North-west, their line of outcrop bearing North-east. They are, however, reduced in thickness materially, the conglomerate being about 600 feet, and the bands f sandstone are fewer in number. over the conglomerates, and over the trap, there are several falls and chutes in the river, amounting to 125 or 130 feet in a mile.

Detail of the Upper Falls (Saxon Falls) on the Montreal River in Township 47 North, Range 1 East from Charles Whittlesey’s 1860 Geological Map of the Penokie Range.

Detail of the Upper Falls (Saxon Falls) on the Montreal River and the Old Flambeau Trail in Township 47 North, Range 1 East from Charles Whittlesey’s 1860 Geological Map of the Penokie Range.

Here, as at the Montreal, the best trap is above the chutes, where it is well exposed in the channel of the river. For one mile above the Lower Falls the trap is of a favorable character ; but above this is not visible until the old Ironton trail is reached. The thickness of the productive trap is not as great as it is at the Montreal River. I judge that this tract covers the entire breadth of the soft brown amygdaloid trap. So far as I can form an opinion from the eternal character of the rocks, they promise as well as any part of this range. No part of the ground has been tested by recent explorations for veins, but there is abundant encouragement for a thorough trial. It must be remembered that it is only in the streams that the rocks composting the best part of this copper range are visible. From the Montreal to the Opinike River, neither the conglomerate nor the trap rises above the level of the country. From the Opinike to the forks of Bad River on Section 17, Town 45, Range 2, West, a distance South-easterly of about nine (9) miles, the productive belt of trap does not show itself above the drift materials, which over the country. The process of exploration is therefore much more tedious than it would be if the uplift was elevated into a high mountain ridge, with rocky cliffs exposed to view.

Ironton townsite claim at Saxon Harbor with trails to Odanah and the Penoka Iron Range. (Detail from Wisconsin Public Land Survey Records during November of 1861)

Detail of Ironton landing and trail from T47N R1W.

Ironton is the proper landing for works at the Opinike Falls, as well as for the Montreal River, and the distance is about nine miles. About two miles up the river, the Ironton trail to the Iron Range, crosses the River Opinike. It is highly probable the Ashland Copper Mining Company, which is now at work at the forks of Bad River, will seek an outlet this way. Although there is not a natural harbor at Ironton Landing, there is an angle in the cast which gives shelter to all but Northern winds, and the deep water approaches near the shore. Piers that were sunk there in 1857, have not yet been moved from their foundations by storms or by floating ice. This is the natural outlet for that part of the Iron Range which is East of the Penokie Gap. Although the country is somewhat mountainous, there are no serious obstacles to prevent highways, plank-roads or railroads from being built. Whatever mines may be developed on either the Copper or the Iron Range East of the Bad River, will find this the most convenient route to reach the lake. The water-power of the Opinike is at the upper chutes twenty-eight (28) feet and the lower seventy-five (75) feet – the latter being over the conglomerate rock and the former over trap. It is about three-fourths of a mile between them, and in the distance the river is rapid over a rocky bed. There is sufficient timber on the tract for all mining purposes, and a portion of the soil is equal to any in the country.

From the falls of the Opinike to Lehy’s saw-mill, at the falls of Bad River, is about nine (9) miles, in a North-westerly direction. Batteaux can reach Lehy’s mill from the lake during the ordinary stage of water. There is an Indian trail from Lehy’s to the falls, over a level country, somewhat more feasible for a road than the route to Ironton, but for the purposes of a mine the Ironton landing is much preferable. The flow of water in the Opinike is not equal to that of the Montreal, but the total fall is greater. Should workable mineral be found here – as appearances lead me confidently to anticipate – the location has advantages of position and water-power such as to place it next the Montreal River property for economical mining.

CHAS. WHITTLESEY,

Geologist and Mining Engineer.

Cleveland, Jan’y 1st, 1865.

By Amorin Mello

Map and Section Showing the Formations at the Junction of Bad River and Tylers Fork" by R. D. Irving, 1873. Published in the Geology of Wisconsin: Volume III.

“Map and Section Showing the Formations at the Junction of Bad River and Tylers Fork” by R. D. Irving, 1873. Reproduced from the Geology of Wisconsin: Volume III.

 

LETTER OF J. A. BAILEY, ESQ.,

IN REFERENCE TO THE

TYLER’S FORK PROPERTY.

———–

Office of Ashland Copper Mining Company,
Ashland County, Wis., Oct. 20, 1864.

Messrs. A. Whittlesey F. W. Bartlett,

Gentlemen:

"Asaph Whittlesey dressed for his journey from Ashland to Madison, Wisconsin, to take up his seat in the state legislature. Whittlesey is attired for the long trek in winter gear including goggles, a walking staff, and snowshoes." Circa 1860. ~ Wisconsin Historical Society

Asaph Whittlesey dressed for his journey from Ashland to Madison, Wisconsin, to take up his seat in the state legislature. Whittlesey is attired for the long trek in winter gear including goggles, a walking staff, and snowshoes.” Circa 1860.
~ Wisconsin Historical Society

I have made an examination of the trap beds exposed between this and your location, upon the Copper Range, in Sections 15, 16 and 21, Town 45, North, Range 2, West, in this County, and have collected specimens (which are herewith forwarded) from the Ashland Company’s location, and from various points Eastward to your location.

The accompanying sketch of the territory referred to will assist you in locating the several points from which these specimens were taken, the figures upon the sketch indicating the points referred to.

Detail of the Ashland Copper Mine from 1873; now Copper Falls State Park.

Detail of the Ashland Copper Mine from 1873; located around what is now the main picnic area within Copper Falls State Park.

The specimens No. 1, are from the rocks in place in the bed of the West branch of Bad River, above the falls, near shaft No. 1, and contain a good per centage of native Copper. The copper bearing belt, exposed here across the formation, embraces a breadth of about 500 feet.

Specimens No. 2, are vein rock, from the transverse vein, in which our shaft No. 1 is being sunk. This shaft is now 35 feet deep, carrying small quantities of fine Copper all the way.

The Herbert vein was named after William Herbert: former copper mining agent for the American Fur Company; and former iron mining agent for the Wisconsin & Lake Superior Mining & Smelting Company.

Specimens No. 3, are from the outcrop of the Herbert vein, near the junction of the East and West branches of Bad River, containing “gray ore,” or “gray sulphuret of copper.”

Specimens Nos. 4, 5 and 6 are of trap, taken from the rock in place, along Tyler’s Fork, at the points indicated on the sketch of corresponding numbers.

My explorations and survey have been extended only to a short distance East of the Section line dividing Sections 16 and 17.

The surveys have been carefully made with theodolite and chain, with the view to determine the true course of the copper bearing belt through the “Ashland Company’s” property, and that adjoining on the East; and as near as I can determine from the measurements and the character of the rocks exposed, the course of this belt is East and West, or nearly so, through Section 17, with indications of a curve to the Northward, as we approach to, and enter Section 16.

I have indicated on the sketch the position of what I consider the North line of the outcrop of the copper bearing belt. The South line is not determined, the rocks being covered by drift, sand, &c.

It will be proper for me to add that the productive trap formation, found in place above the falls, in the West branch, corresponds fully with the formation at the same elevation in Tyler’s Fork, on the Western boundary of Section 16; and I am clearly of the opinion that at that point the trap formation, when penetrated to a depth corresponding to that at the falls of the West branch, will be alike productive of copper, and that the most productive veins will be found running parallel with the formation.

Very respectfully, Yours, &c.,

J. A. BAILEY,

Supt. & Engineer A. C. M. Co.

—————-

Ervin “Nigigoons” Leihy had a sawmill located at the Falls on Bad River.

A letter from Mr. E. Leehy, of Bad River Falls, dated Jan’y 6, 1865, states that in shaft No. 2, on the Ashland mine, several hundred feet South of No. 1, and in the productive belt, the copper rock was reached at 20 feet in depth, and the first blast threw out several pounds of native copper in pieces from the size of an egg down.


 

tylersforklocation1

“Property on which ‘Silver Lead’ has recently been discovered.”

TYLER’S FORK LOCATION.

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COPPER LANDS,

IN
SECTIONS 15 16 AND 21, TOWN 45, NORTH, RANGE 2, WEST.

640 ACRES.

ASHLAND COUNTY, WISCONSIN.

Detail of Township 45 North, Range 2 West, from Charles Whittlesey's 1860 Geological Map of the Penokie Range.

Detail of Township 45 North, Range 2 West, from Charles Whittlesey’s 1860 Geological Map of the Penokie Range.

This location covers a great part, if not all of the breadth of the productive trap formation. The outcrop of the strata is here nearly East and West, with a curve to the North-Eastward on or near this land. The greatest length of the location is North and South, and therefore crosses the formation nearly at right angles. At the Northern end, is the conglomerate and sand rock, which overlies the trap beds. These beds are better exposed at the West, in Section 17, on the Ashland Copper Company’s land, where they are now working and whatever developments may be made there will apply to this property. The strata have a sharp dip to the North, and are thus exposed at the edges, being nearly vertical. Next below, and South of the conglomerate, is a band of black and red trap, of a compact and rather flinty structure, about three hundred (300) feet thick, in which there are numerous transverse veins, cutting the strata at various angles. These are visible in a deep gulf formed on both forks of Bad River, that unite in Section 17. Somme of these cross veins carry copper, both native and as an ore in the form of grey sulphuret. They also carry as vein matter, chlorite, cale, spar, and flucan, or red and green magnesian clay. There are also narrow beds of trap, interstratified with the hard ores, which are softer, owing to a large portion of laumonite. I do not regard the true veins in the upper beds, as likely to furnish mining ground; but as highly valuable indications, which are to be followed into the more promising strata lower down in the system. Next below the hard beds, to the South, is a belt of trap rocks, whose composition and texture I regard as highly favorable.

The Ashland Company is sinking on a cross or transverse vein, at the Southern border of the hard beds; which in the course of 75 or 100 feet along their inclined shaft, will enter what I consider productive ground. The thickness of this ground is not determined, but what I have seen in the branches of the river exceeds half a mile. It is not, however, all alike, as there are in it layers possessing different characters, corresponding in this respect other parts of the trap range in Michigan and Wisconsin.

The stratum at the head of the falls, on the West fork, where the Ashland Company is at work, has been closely examined over a breadth of about 50 feet, and carries small pieces or nuggets of native copper throughout. It is a soft brown amyglaloid, which small bunches of chlorite, spar and laumonite; some prehnite and quartz, in which the copper is found. Lumps weighing one to two pounds have been obtained from this bed away from any appearances of a vein. This is the general character of the mineral belt on Section 17, which I consider as the true mining ground of this part of the range. All these beds are embraced in our location, at a distance of ¼ to ⅓ of a mile on the East. In Sections 16 and 21, the exposure of rock is not as extensive as it is upon 17, for the rocks are covered by drift clay, sand and gravel, except in the streams.

“The most easterly of the two middle forks I have called ‘Tyler’s Fork,’ which is divided above its falls into two equal branches; the other, which preserves the general direction of the main trunk, may, with propriety, retain its name, as the Mashkeg or Bad River.
There is no canoe navigation on Tyler’s Fork, or the Upper Bad River, so swift is the current and narrow and crooked are the channels.
Tyler’s Fork comes out of the mountains about twelve miles southeast by south from Woods’s [at Leihy’s Saw Mill], in a chasm, two hundred feet deep deep, in the red sand-rock and conglomerate. The junction of its ten branches takes place in this narrow gulf or ‘cañon,’ the eastern branch making a plunge of forty-two feet, succeeded, as you ascend, by a series of chutes over trap-rocks forty feet in one-fourth of a mile. Mr. D. Tyler, of the Charter Oak Company, made a location here, and built a rude cabin at the edge of the falls.”
Geological Report on That Portion of Wisconsin Bordering on the South Shore of Lake Superior.  Surveyed in the Year 1849, Under the Direction of David Dale Owen, United States Geologist, by Charles Whittlesey, Head of Sub-Corps, page 433.
"Studio portrait of geologist Charles Whittlesey dressed for a field trip." Circa 1858. ~ Wisconsin Historical Society

“Studio portrait of geologist Charles Whittlesey dressed for a field trip.” Circa 1858.
~ Wisconsin Historical Society

The East, or “Tyler’s” Fork, shows the trap beds in its channel a large part of the way through Section 16; and they are visible in the small creek that empties into it on Section 21, from the South. To examine the metal-bearing bed, of which I have spoken, after it reaches this location, the rocks must be uncovered by trenches or shafts in the sand and gravel, after having determined the true course of the bed. The search for cross veins can be easily made in the channel of Tyler’s Fork. This is a stream of considerable value for water power, the fall in your property being sufficient for two dams, and the flow of water sufficient for a saw mill. The Exploration of the porous laumonite beds, will be somewhat tedious; but the close proximity to those on the Ashland Company’s property will be of great assistance. As soon as it is demonstrated that these deposits of fine and nugget copper are remunerative at one point on the range, it gives new value to the whole system. Copper deposited in this mode, in other mining districts, has been found to be more uniform over long distances, than it is in veins; because these ores are liable to pass out of the property formations, and into a diabase rock. These copper-bearing longitudinal courses should therefore be most thoroughly searched. In this region, stamp mills can be worked in most cases by water power; a heavy and regular bed can be stoped and broken up ready for the mill, at a much cheaper rate per fathom, than vein matter. The improved stamps, crushers and washers, have of late years much reduced the expence of working mineral-bearing rock. The absence of masses of native copper in the Ashland district, is not now so important as it was when the first explorers made their location here. On this property, the length of the copper-bearing beds is something over a mile, and their breadth at least half a mile. As they extend to a greater depth than any mine can be worked, there is no fear of exhaustion.

CHAS. WHITTLESEY

Geologist and Mining Engineer.

Cleveland, Ohio, Jan. 1st, 1865.

By Amorin Mello

United States. Works Progress Administration:

Chippewa Indian Historical Project Records 1936-1942  

(Northland Micro 5; Micro 532)

1860 bad river settlement

Details of early settlements on the La Pointe Reservation from Charles Whittlesey‘s 1860 Geological Map of the Penokie Range.

Reel 1; Envelope 1; Item 30.

EARLY SETTLEMENT OF THE BAD RIVER INDIAN RESERVATION

by James Scott

Several years before the final treaty was signed by the Chippewas of Lake Superior, a strange gentleman appeared in the Indian country: He was a white man and became very well acquainted with some of the Indians His name was Ervin Leihy, but the Indians called him Neg-gi-goons (a young otter). When he saw that the Indians were making their homes on each side of the Bad River, as far up as the Bad River Falls, he too decided to build a little home for himself on the bank at the foot of the Falls. He cleared a small piece of land, built his house and in time erected a saw mill which was run by water power. There he lived for many years cultivating the soil and manufacturing lumber. He was never bothered by any of the Indians because he never gave them any cause for unfriendliness. He associated mostly with the young men of the tribe, learned their language, and spoke it quite fluently. He was soon familiar with Indian ways and habits and adopted many of them.

Senator Henry Mower Rice ~ United States Senate Historical Office

Senator Henry Mower Rice
~ United States Senate Historical Office

On September 30, 1854, the final treaty between the Chippewa of Lake Superior and the United States was concluded, (ratified Jan. 10, 1855). The preliminaries required thirty days of deliberation.

Before the last conference, a gentleman by the name of Henry M. Rice, approached the chiefs and headmen of the La Pointe Band at night, and held a secret conference with them. He coached and advised them to be on the alert should a question arise concerning the selection of a reservation.

“I have been secretly approached,” he said, “by a certain band of Chippewa to assist them in securing the land where you have maintained your homes for years. It would be a shame if another band should cheat you out of this place where you have built your homes and lived so long. Any band, or member of such band, which is a part of the Lake Superior Chippewa who reside in the territory you are now ceding to the United States government, have equal rights to make a selection anywhere in the territory the United States is reserving for you.”

When the conference convened the next day, the question of selecting reservations was in order. Immediately after the announcement was made by the official interpreter, Chief Blackbird of the Bad River Band was on his feet shouting and pointing in different directions with a large flat ceremonial pipe which he held in his right hand, describing the boundary lines of his reservation.  (See Article 2, paragraph 2, page 648, Chippewa Treaty of 1854).1

Manidoons (Small Bug).

As soon as Chief Blackbird arose, Chief Moni-don-se (Small Bug) of the Lac du Flambeau Band, also arose at the same time, and tried hard to discourage Chief Blackbird. Chief Moni-don-se claimed that he was supposed to make the selection that Chief Blackbird was now making. Then both chiefs became angry and exchanged unpleasant words with one another. One of the Government officials intervened. Chief Moni-don-se claimed that his people had as much right to select this land as Chief Blackbird had. Moni-don-se was finally over-ruled, so he had to settle on the Lac du Flambeau Reservation. Chief Blackbird then thanked Mr. Henry M. Rice for his advice and assistance.

Vincent Roy, Jr., portrait from "Short biographical sketch of Vincent Roy, [Jr.,]" in Life and Labors of Rt. Rev. Frederic Baraga, by Chrysostom Verwyst, 1900, pages 472-476.

Vincent Roy, Jr. was Henry Mower Rice’s interpreter during the 1854 Treaty with the Chippewas at La Pointe, according to The Sawmill Community at Roy’s Pointe, by Mary Carlson, 2009, page 21.

Mr. Henry M. Rice was an attorney-at-law, and also a fur trader and merchant. He was a very influential man, and the Government granted him the authority to establish a trading post among the Chippewa of Lake Superior. He supplied Indian trappers with food, clothing, traps, guns, ammunition and tobacco, in return for furs. Maple sugar makers also bartered their production for provisions, clothing and other necessities.

A few years after the reservations were set aside for the Chippewa people, the construction of more log houses was begun, even being used to bring the timber required for this purpose from the forest.  Many new homes were built along the Bad River, the location of the houses extending as far as the Falls.  The then existing homes were not lost from view in this movement, and houses needing repairs were given attention.  A sub-agent was appointed and placed in charge of the Bad River Reservation, whose duty it was to assist the Indians in agricultural pursuits, as well as guide and advise them in matters concerning such pursuits.  None was known as the Government Farmer.

The Indians always took the responsibility and care of his children quite seriously.  He taught them early the rudiments of the hunt and the trapping of wild game.  He instilled into them from infancy a love of the traditions and customs of their forefathers; he brought before their young minds the organization of the tribe and clans and their duties.  He also taught them early in life to be grateful to the Great Spirit and appreciate his many gifts.

Duluth News Tribune Tribune
Sunday, 21 Apr. 1918
“ASHLAND, Wis., April 20. – Chief Adam Scott, of the Chippewa tribe of Indians is dead. He passed away at his home in Odanah after a short illness of pneumonia at the age of 76 and was buried today.
Chief Scott was one of the head chiefs of the Chippewas since the death of his father who was a head chief of the Chippewa tribe when they were uncivilized. His father was Ka-ta-wa-ba-bay Scott and he lived to see his tribe emerge from a savage state to civilization. His son has been one of the chief advisors of the tribe and has made many trips to Washington on tribal business. Chief Adam Scott leaves one son who becomes chief. Chief Scott was born on Madeline Island and has lived either at Madeline Island or on the Bad River reservation all his life.”

Gic-he-chi-gie-nig Bah-dub-wah-be-da Scott, my father, who died at the age of seventy-six years and ten months, (born June 12, 1840; died April 16, 1916, told me the following:

Gaagaagens was Young Raven (George Cedar Root).
Kiskitawag (Giishkitawag: “Cut Ear”) signed multiple treaties as a warrior of the Ontonagon Band but afterwards was associated with the Bad River Band. ~C.M. Bell, Smithsonian Digital Collections

Kiskitawag (Giishkitawag: “Cut Ear”) signed multiple treaties as a warrior of the Ontonagon Band but afterwards was associated with the Bad River Band.  Photograph circa 1880.
~ C.M. Bell, Smithsonian Digital Collections

About four years after the signing of the Treaty of 1854, in the spring of 1858, Chief Keesh-ke-tow-wug (Cut Ear), one of the signers of the treaty, sent invitations through his runner, George Cedar Root (Ke-ka-geese, meaning young Raven) to tell all the people he could contact, to come to his home on a certain day.  He had his wife and daughters prepare a great feast and opened up a large Mo-kuk (birch bark container for maple sugar) of maple sugar.  About a hundred people ate at his feast that day.

Chief Keesh-ke-tow-wug ordered his runner to light his personal ceremonial pipe and pass it to each of his male guests.  After the pipe ceremony he arose in a very dignified manner.  He was a tall, lanky old gentleman, and when standing erect was over six feet tall.  He said:

“My children, I want you to listen to me.  The proposition I am about to present will benefit all of you, and I need your cooperation.  I would like to have you donate your labor to clear land for a large community garden, where every family, or any one who wishes can plant.  The place I would suggest is that swampy flat, near the cemetery.  It will take time to drain it and dry out but I know it will make good garden plats.”

The people approved of the idea and gave him the assurance that they would cooperate with him to carry out his plans.  The old chief was more than pleased.  he designated a date on which to start.

When they started clearing the ground for this purpose, many things had to be done.  The land was covered with willows and scrubby tamarack and water.  Long ditches had to be dug to furnish adequate drainage into both rivers, the Ka-ka-gon and the Bad.  It was not long before a tract of land of about eighty acres was prepared for the plow and under actual cultivation.

Weshki is a common Ojibwemowin name for the oldest son of a chief.  There were a number of chiefs with the Marten surname, especially at Lac du Flambeau and Lac Courte Oreilles.

This community garden extended from Mrs. Armstrong’s dwelling on the U. S. Highway No. 2 to where the steel and concrete bridge now crosses the Bad River on the east; and north-west to Waish-ki Martin’s house.  This old community clearing is now known as the “Blackbird Field.”  The Indians used this ground for their gardens about twenty-five years.

Detail of Chief James Blackbird from photo by De Lancey Gill. ~ Smithsonian Collections

Detail of Chief James Blackbird from an 1899 photo by De Lancey Gill.
~ Smithsonian Collections

In the years 1888 to 1890, Gic-caw-kie-yesh-sheese (Minor Surface Wind), son of the old chief Ma-ca-day-pe-nay-se (Blackbird), filed on this community clearing as his allotment.  He was later known as Chief James Blackbird.  The selection was approved by the Indian Department and a patent issued, covering the greater portion of the community garden, in the name of James Blackbird.  (see Article 3, granting of allotments, in the Chippewa Treaty of 1854, page 649).1

Under the stipulations of the Treaty of 1854, the chiefs with the assistance of a field Indian Agent constituted an allotment committee, who made membership rolls and gave allotments to those who were recognized as members of the Bad River band.  Tracts of eighty acres of land were allotted to each.

1 Laws and Treaties – Kappler

1820 Cass Schoolcraft

The Cass-Schoolcraft Expedition identified “Chippewa Gardens” at the location of Odanah.  This map is several decades older than Kiskitawag‘s proposal to pursue agriculture at the same location.
~ Narrative journal of travels from Detroit northwest through the great chain of American lakes to the sources of the Mississippi River in the year 1820, by Henry Rowe Schoolcraft, page 105.