Combined History of Randolph, Monroe and Perry Counties, Illinois
Published by J. L. McDonough & Co.
In the Indian hostilities from 1786 to 1795 the inhabitants of the present Monroe County suffered greatly. The pioneer settlers realized their exposed condition, and as soon as they reached the county erected forts for their protection. One of these block houses was at Bellefontaine. Another was in the American Bottom near the residence of Shadrach Bond. Another was built by Daniel and James Flannary on the main road from Kaskaskia to Cahokia. This was about three miles southeast of the present town of Columbia, and was afterward widely known as Whiteside's station. A fourth was erected by James Piggot at the foot of the bluff, a mile and a half west of Columbia, where a small creek, called by the French the Grand Ruisseau, emerges from the bluff. This was also a celebrated place in early times, and was known as Piggot's fort. A fifth block house was built by Nathaniel Hull at his residence at the foot of the bluff just below the present Chalfin bridge. Brashear's station stood near the present town of Harrisonville, and Golden's block house not far from where Monroe City is now built. Sometimes these forts, or stations, consisted of a single block house, the second story projecting over the first, with holes in the floor through which to shoot at Indians attempting to enter the lower story. The lower story was provided with port holes, and with strong Puncheon doors, three or four inches thick, stoutly barred. Another and better style of pioneer fortification was made by building a large, strong block house on each of the four corners of a square lot of ground. Large timbers placed deep in the ground and extending twelve or fifteen feet above the surface, filled in the interval between the buildings. Within these stockades cabins were built, and if a spring was not to be found a well was dug. When danger was suspected horses were kept inside during the night. There were usually two strong gates. In the line of the stockade, near the top, port holes were cut here and there, and platforms were constructed inside on which to stand and shoot. The timber was carefully cleared away in the vicinity so that no place of ambush might be afforded the enemy. Sometimes sentinels were kept on watch during the night. In the morning the inmates emerged from the fort with great caution, for the Indians at that hour often lurked in the neighborhood. In these stations the inhabitants found refuge in times of anticipated danger, and from them issued the expeditions that set out from time to time to punish the Indians for some atrocity.
In the year of 1786 while Mr. Huff, who married
widow Moredock, was coming to Illinois from Western Pennsylvania with
the Moredock family, the party was attacked by the Indians on the
Mississippi near Grand Tower, and Mrs. Huff, one of her sons, and some
others were killed. The
rest managed to escape in the boat.
The body of Mrs. Huff was mangled in a shocking manner before the
eyes of her husband and family. One
of her sons, John Moredock, swore vengeance against the Indian race, and
was afterward one of the foremost leaders in inflicting punishment on
the savages. A few years afterward Mr. Huff, himself, was killed by the
Indians on the road between Prairie du Rocher and Kaskaskia.
Many years afterward his watch and some other articles other
articles were found on the spot where he had been killed.
Before this, in the year 1783, James Flannary had
been killed, but the settlers were not much apprehensive of danger till
a general war commenced in 1786. That
year James Andrews, who lived two miles north of where Waterloo now
stands, was attacked by the Indians, he and his wife massacred, and his
child taken captive. Andrews
was an adventurous young Virginian, who had come to Illinois with the
American immigration, and had settled at Bellefontaine in 1782.
Shortly afterward he married the daughter of Captain Joseph Ogle,
and settled at the head of Andrews' run at a spot now included in
claim 507, survey 721. The
window of his cabin was a square hole cut into the side of the building,
which could be securely closed in times of danger.
Andrews had neglected to close this opening on retiring for the
night, and just before dawn while reposing peacefully by the side of his
wife and child there came the sharp, clear report of an Indian's
rifle, and a bullet penetrated his body.
He instantly leaped form the bed, and sprang out through the
opposite door, believing that the savages would be satisfied with
plundering the house, and would not injure his wife and child.
After ransacking the house, and loading themselves with such
articles as they could carry, they prepared to depart, taking Mrs.
Andrews with them, when the little girl, at the time three years old,
who had before remained perfectly quiet and unobserved, called out,
"Don't take my mamma." Upon
hearing the cry, they returned and seized the child, and carried her
with them. After traveling
about a quarter of a mile Mrs. Andrews, who was in a delicate state of
health, expecting soon to become the mother of another child, became
unable to proceed farther, when her inhuman captors took the unhappy
woman behind a tree and murdered her, leaving the body on the scene of
the outrage. The body of
poor Andrews was discovered some days later, far down the creek, where
in weakness and delirium he had sunk down and died.
Captain Ogle, the father of Mrs. Andrews, went to St. Louis, then
a French trading port, and offered a liberal reward for the recovery of
the child through the French traders and trappers.
The little girl had been carried by the Indians as far north as
Prairie du Chien, but after a short captivity she was brought back to
St. Louis by the French trappers. She was raised in the family of James Lemen, at New Design.
Her name was Drusilla, and on arriving at womanhood she became
the wife of Henry Mace. Soon
after her marriage she and her husband settled on the Andrew's tract,
but a short distance from where the old house had stood.
On one occasion, while sitting with her infant in her arms, an
aged Pottawatamie Indian entered the house, and addressed her in broken
English" "House no here long time ago, " and then taking her by
the arm led her to where her father's house had stood, and said,
"Long time ago you papoose, heap Indian came and kill your mother."
Mrs. Mace was much agitated.
The Indian, without doubt, was one of the band that massacred her
father and mother. She
became the mother of a large family of children.
On the 10th of December, 1788, while Benjamin Ogle and James Garretson were hauling hay from the bottom, they were fired upon by two Indians. A ball lodged in Ogle's shoulder and remained there. Garretson escaped in the woods. While engaged in stacking this same hay Samuel Garretson and a man named Reddick were killed and scalped. On account of his wound Mr. Ogle was granted a pension by the government.
On the 28th of March, 1788, William Biggs, who then resided at Bellefontaine, in company with John Vallis, set out for Cahokia, to sell some beaver fur. When within six miles of Piggot's fort they heard the report of two guns which they thought had been fired by hunters. Soon afterward sixteen Indians made their appearance and presented their guns in readiness to fire. Biggs and Vallis whipped their horses and attempted to escape. The bullets of the Indians killed Biggs' horse and pierced his overcoat with four holes, though this person escaped injury. With his furs and saddle he fell from his horse, and after running some distance, was made prisoner. Vallis was short in the thigh, but clung to his horse, which carried him to the fort. He died six weeks afterward from his wound. As soon as Vallis reached the fort a swivel gun was fired to alarm the neighborhood. When the Indians heard this gun they ran with Biggs for six miles. They were without horses, but traveled forty miles the first day. One of the Indians attempted to kill Biggs, but this his comrades would not permit, and killed the Indian himself. The Indians were Kickapoos, and traveled with Biggs to their town on the Wabash, after some time he effected his release by agreeing to pay a Spaniard, named Bazedone, two hundred and sixty dollars ransom money, and thirty seven more for necessaries to enable him to make his journey home. He reached Kaskaskia by way of the Wabash, Ohio and Mississippi rivers, and from there came to Bellefontaine. He was a large and fine-looking man, and was greatly admired by the Indian maidens, who were his warm friends during his captivity. He wrote ad published a narrative of his adventures in 1826.
During the years 1789 and 1790 the Indians grew more bold and troublesome, and numerous murders were committed. No family or individual was safe, night or day, from their attacks. It is estimated that in these two years one-tenth of the inhabitants of the county were massacred. The Kickapoos were mostly the aggressors. They were better armed and more vigorous than the other Indian tribes, and prosecuted their war against the Americans with great ferocity. The French settlers of Illinois almost entirely escaped.
The enmity of the savages was directed altogether against the American population. In the American Bottom, not far from where Fountain creek flows from the bluff, three boys were attacked by six Indians in 1789. One David Waddle, was struck with a tomahawk in three places and scalped, but still made his escape and recovered from his wounds. His companions ran to the neighboring fort and were uninjured. James Turner and John Ferrel were killed the same year. James Dempsey was scalped and left for dead, but recovered. In the winter of 1789-90, a party of Osage Indians crossed the Mississippi and stole some horses from the settlers in the American Bottom. A party was hastily organized to pursue them toward the river. James Worley, being in advance of the others, was turned upon, and killed and scalped by the Indians, before his companions could come to his rescue. It is said that the Indians cut off the head of Worley, and threw it toward the whites as they advanced. It was seldom that the Osages, who lived west of the Mississippi, crossed the river to commit depredations in Illinois.
A Baptist preacher from Kentucky, James Smith, while journeying to the village of St. Phillips, in company with a Frenchman and a Mrs. Huff, on the 19th of May, 1790, the party was fired on by a band of Kickapoo Indians who were concealed in a thicket near Bellefontaine. The horses of the preacher and Frenchman were shot, and the woman was wounded. Mrs. Huff was at once killed on falling into the hands of the Indians; the Frenchman made his escape, and Smith was taken prisoner. His saddle bags were found the next day in the thicket where he had thrown them at the time of the attack. He was a large, heavy man, and the Indians loaded him with a pack of plunder they had secured from the settlements, and set out toward their town on the Wabash. His march through the prairies, with a heavy load, and under a hot sun, was excessively fatiguing. Some of the Indians proposed to kill him, and pointed their guns at his breast. Having observed him praying and singing hymns, they concluded that he was a good medicine man, and held intercourse with the great spirit, and must not therefore be killed. Through the agency of the French traders at Vincennes, he was released, the people of the New Design settlement paying one hundred and seventy dollars for his ransom. He came back to Illinois, obtained his saddle bags which contained valuable papers relating to the titles of land belonging to his friends, and then returned to Kentucky.
In May, 1791, John Dempsey, who two years before had been scalped by the Indians and left for dead, was again attacked, and this time succeeded also in effecting his escape. A party of eight men hastened in pursuit of the Indians, who were double the number of the whites. Captain Nathaniel Hull led the party, of whom the other members were James Lemen (click James Lemen to read his funeral sermon); Joseph Ogle, Benjamin Ogle, Josiah Ryan, William Bryson, John Porter and Daniel Raper. The Indians were overtaken and a hot battle fought in the timber at the Big Spring, about five miles north of the present town of Waterloo, and a short distance east of the St. Louis road. The fight was kept up from tree to tree, the Indians endeavoring to escape and the whites pursuing. Five of the Indians were killed, and not one of the whites was injured.
In the year 1793 a band of Kickapoo Indians stole some horses from the American bottom near Eagle Cliffs, and an expedition was organized to pursue the Indians. William Whiteside was captain, and he was accompanied by Samuel Judy, John Whiteside, Samuel Whiteside, William Harrington, William L. Whiteside, John Porter, and John Dempsey. They followed the Indian trail, passing near the site of the present city of Belleville, towards the Indian camp on Shoal creek. One of the party generally went before on the trail to prevent the others from rushing into an ambuscade. It was considered better that one should be killed than all the party. They came up with the Indians on Shoal creek, and found three of the horses grazing in the prairie. These horses were secured, and then arrangements were made to attack the Indian cam. Captain Whiteside divided his force into parties of four men each. These parties attacked the camp from opposite sides at the same time, the firing of the captain's gun being the signal for the commencement of the battle. One Indian, the son of the chief, was killed and several wounded. The Indians ran off, leaving their guns and everything else behind. The old chief, Pecon by name, surrendered, and gave up his gun to Whiteside. He supposed from the bold attack that the whites were numerous, but when he found their entire number consisted of only eight men, he called in a loud voice for his men to return, and at the same time attempted to wrench his gun from Whiteside's hands. Whiteside was a large man of extraordinary strength and easily retained the gun. White the struggle was going on the whites were afraid to shoot at the Indian lest they might kill their captain. Whiteside would not permit his men to injure an unarmed foe, and the chief was suffered to escape. Captain Whiteside was famous for his prudence, as well as his courage, and with the hourses they had caught, started back, and neither ate nor slept till they reached Whiteside's station. His wisdom was verified, for the very night of his arrival at the station Pecon and seventy warriors, in pursuit, camped near Cahokia. The next year, 1794, Pecon and his band shot Thomas Whiteside near the station, and tomahawked a son of Captain Whiteside who had wandered some distance from the fort to play.
Captain Whiteside, however, had his revenge next
year. A Frenchman of
Cahokia informed him that a considerable number of Indians had camped
under the bluff in St. Clair county, near where the road from Belleville
to St. Louis now passes. Captain
Whiteside gathered a company of fourteen, among which were Samuel
Whiteside, William L. Whiteside, Johnson J. Whiteside, Samuel Judy, and
Isaac Enochs, and attacked the camp just before the break of day,
killing all the Indians except one who ran off, and was killed, it is
said, by the other Indians for his cowardice. For many years afterward the bones of these Indians could be
seen whitening the ground. In
this battle Captain Whiteside was wounded, and he supposed mortally.
He fell to the ground, but still continued to exhort his men to
stand their ground and never permit and Indian to touch his body when he
was dead, as he supposed he would be in a short time.
His son, Uel, was also wounded in his arm so that he could not
use his gun. He examined
his father's wound, and found that the ball had not passed through the
body, but had struck a rib and glanced off toward the spine.
The bullet could be felt under the skin.
Every pioneer in those days was a surgeon, and with his
butcher-knife he cut it out, remarking, "Father, you are not dead
yet." The old man jumped
to his feet, and continued his fight with the Indians. On their return to Whiteside's station the party halted in
Cahokia, at the house of Mrs. Rains, to care for the wounded.
This lady had two beautiful and intelligent daughters, and this
accidental meeting finally led to their marriage to Uel and William B.
The most serious and dreadful tragedy that ever
occurred in the county, or, indeed, in the State was the murder of the
wife and four children of Robert McMahan, in January, 1795, three miles
southeast of the New Design station.
McMahan was a native of Virginia, from which he emigrated to
Kentucky where, at Crab Orchard, he married Margaret Cline.
In the year 1793 he came to Illinois, and settled at New Design. In 1794 he lived in a house near the station belonging to
James Lemon; he had selected a location in the prairie, and desiring to
improve a farm had moved on the land which was part of the northeast
quarter if section nineteen, township three south, range nine west. No other house was in sight. He made preparations to defend
himself and family from an attack by the Indians. He had a rifle, and only a week before the tragedy, had run
two hundred rifle balls. He
also kept at the house a blunderbuss loaded with six charges of powder
and nine balls. "When you
hear the report of my blunderbuss, " said he to his friends at the
station, "you may be certain that I am attacked."
The door of his house was so constructed that it might be
strongly barred, and port holes were made in the walls through which he
might shoot anyone who should attempt to ascend to the roof.
The murders took place on the twenty-sixth of January, 1795.
On the morning of that day McMahan went out to hunt for his oxen,
when he perceived that his horse, which was confined in a pen appeared
to be frightened. He cast
his eye over the prairie in every direction, but saw no enemy.
A lone hickory tree, one hundred and fifty yards from the house,
had been blown down the previous fall while in full leaf, and this
furnished a convenient hiding place for the attacking party.
Unfortunately he did not think that a deadly enemy might be hid
behind this convenient covert.
He entered his house but had not been indoors more
than two or three minutes, when four Indians, frightfully painted black
and red, entered the house, two by two, saying "Bon jour! Bon jour!"
(good day! good day!) a salutation which they had evidently learned from
their intercourse with the French.
They stood motionless a few seconds, when one of them attempted
to take down McMahan's rifle from the hooks, and McMahan took down his
blunderbuss; but his wife took hold of it and begged him not to resist
as she hoped their lives might be spared if they submitted peaceably,
but otherwise they would be killed.
The Indians then seized the blunderbuss, and wrenched it from his
hands. Every one then made
for the door. Mrs. McMahan
ran half way around the house, when she was shot in the left breast and
scalped. McMahan was then
pulled back into the house, thrown on the floor, and his hands pinioned
close behind him, with deer sinews.
Sally McMahan, the oldest daughter, then less than three years
old remained in the house, and saw one of the Indians knock her brother
and two of her sisters on the head with the pole of his tomahawk.
It was a light blow, only sufficient to stun them.
This Indian was proceeding to open the cradle where lay a female
infant, only one month old, when Sally ran out of the house, and once
around it, when she was also seized by him.
Three of the children were scalped.
The infant likewise was murdered.
The Indians took from the house such articles as
they wanted, packed a part of them upon McMahan, untying one of his
hands so that he might hold the load on his back.
They were in a great hurry to get off.
Sally McMahan was also taken along as a prisoner.
They set out for the Indian town in the northeast part of
Illinois. They crossed
Prairie du Long creek, not far from its mouth, and camped the first
night on Richland creek, about half a mile below the present town of
meditated an escape, but did not make known his intention to his
daughter. The first night
the Indians tied him securely, and took away his shoes and hat and part
of his clothes, so that he had no opportunity.
They also tied on him a belt, partly wrought with porcupine
quills and small bells, so that if he stirred, the bells would rattle
and give the alarm. After
the journey was commenced the Indians were kind and friendly, fixing the
shoes of Sally McMahan, and making her as comfortable as possible.
The second night McMahan quietly slipped the cords from his limbs
and body, and was about to rise, when one of the Indians raised up his
head, and looked around, but laid down again without noticing him.. When
the Indian had again gone to sleep, McMahan made his escape, without his
shoes, hat, and with but little of his clothing.
He covered some of his clothing over the belt of bells, so that
they made no noise. He
slipped back to the camp, and tried to get his shoes, or a pair of
moccasins from the Indians, but could get neither.
He started for the New Design, as well as he could judge of the
course. He was nearly
famished. While with the
Indians a small pittance of dried meat had been his only food.
The Indians, themselves were without provisions, and in an almost
starving condition. He lay out one night, making his bed of leaves under a large
fallen tree, which was held up from the ground by its branches.
His feet and elbows were partially frozen, but with the daylight
he resumed his journey. He visited the New Design settlement, but near
Prairie du Rocher saw Samuel Judy.
When he reached New Design his condition was deplorable.
His clothing was torn and tattered, his feet bruised and
bleeding, and his limbs partially frozen.
His wife and children lay dead for several days
before the murder was discovered by the neighbors.
A small dog, which had been much admired and petted by
McMahan's family, came frequently to the house of James Lemen,
whining, and running backward and forward in an unusual manner.
No one took any hint from the actions of the dog, though the
cause of its distress was plainly enough afterward made manifest.
Old Mr. Judy was the first to discover the dead bodies, and shed
tears when he told the sad story of the murder.
The neighbors went out and buried the dead all in one grave, and
on the night of the same day funeral services were held at the house of
James Lemen. At nine or ten
o'clock, just as the meeting closed McMahan entered the house from
Prairie du Rocher. The
little dog at first did not know his master, so changed was he by his
hardships and sufferings, but the moment he looked into his face he
leaped into his lap with extravagant demonstrations of joy.
The whole assembly was profoundly affected, and McMahan burst
into loud lamentations over the fate of his family.