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Tag Archives: Our Land! Our People!

Which John Bell?

09 Thursday Mar 2017

Posted by chaplines2014 in Books by Gary Chapman, Citizenship, Events, Learning from mistakes, People, Racial Prejudice

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Books by Gary Chapman, events, life experiences, Memories, Our Land! Our People!, The Trail of Tears

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John Bell was such a popular name in the 1800’s that hundreds of references to that name show up in southern and Midwestern records. Many can be eliminated as related to one another because of birthdates, locations of death, and other indicators that they are not related to the John Bells that are part of our own family, but many remain single references that are unconnected to any other data.

 

We began with confidence in our own closest ancestors with that name, the great-uncles and great-great-father who are buried in the family cemetery near New Salem, Illinois. From where did that Great-great grandfather come? There were other Bells and even John Bells in the immediate vicinity and surrounding counties who could be easily disregarded because there were no plausible family connections.

 

You can imagine my excitement when I found a ‘John Francis Bell’ born in the Cherokee Nation with the same birthdate as the Grandfather John F. Bell, reported by his grandson (our Grandpa Hillmann) to be raised among the Cherokees with twenty-one siblings. Then I found a maternal uncle, James Starr, traditionally responsible for his nephews’ upbringing, with twenty-one children of his own. The name ‘John Bell’ also appeared as one of the youthful protectors (or was it a gang?) of the Cherokee Nation’s eastern border, along with Starr’s own sons and several other relatives and neighbors. These instances provided a connection to a full line of John Bells well-documented in Cherokee records. John Francis Bell also disappeared from Cherokee Nation records in 1848 just after the murder of his father, and just before our John Francis Bell appeared in the New Philadelphia-New Salem area.

 

It was not the case that the records were entirely in agreement with each other. Sometimes two John Bells in the same Bell family appeared in each generation. John Francis Bell had a younger brother named John Martin Bell. They had an uncle named John Adair Bell who had first cousins named John Bell. Often the middle names were not used in separate records.

 

John Adair Bell was the most famous among them since he and his brother Samuel Bell signed the New Echota Treaty with the Federal Government in 1835. John Adair Bell led one of the large detachments of Cherokee people in the 1837-38 Removal, usually called the Trail of Tears. Members of the Bell detachment were mostly residents of the ancient city of Coosawattee in Georgia, and John Adair’s father, and his brothers, including David Henry Bell, and David’s son, John Francis Bell, were probably among its numbers. I must add ‘probably’ because no full listing of the detachment members has been recovered, and other circumstantial information has been assembled that points to their presence.

 

The John Bell who was the grandfather of the grandfather of our grandfather, in other words the father of John Adair Bell, has often been mistakenly identified as the signer of the New Echota Treaty and the leader of the detachment, instead of his son. To add to the confusion, his middle name may or may not be the John ‘Christopher’ Bell, born in Greenville, South Carolina, in May 1, 1782, although that date seems to be firm as the grandfather’s birthdate, so I will use that name for the sake of identification. John C. Bell married Charlotte Adair, the mixed Scot and Cherokee daughter of John Adair (the founder of Adairsville, Georgia), and their children included John Adair, David, Samuel, and Devereaux Jarrett, as well as several other well-documented men and women.

 

John C. Bell’s 1842 Registered Claim clears some additional confusion about his life. He gives reasons for his 1833 move from Coosawattee to Alabama, where his brother Francis Bell was residing in that part of the Cherokee Nation, and the claim clearly indicates that John C.  Bell was ‘white,’ although his family is Indian. John C. Bell is a member of the Cherokee Nation because of his marriage to Charlotte, not because he was born into it. The Georgia legislature’s claim on John C. Bell, later declared unconstitutional by the Federal Court, was a claim on him as a white man and citizen of Georgia. This is interesting because many Cherokee records, dating from around 1900, claim that John C. Bell was half-Scot and half-Cherokee, like his wife. They often say that John C. was the half-blood son of John Bell, the Scotsman, who married a Cherokee woman of the Deer Clan.  This would make John C. commit incest, according to Cherokee tradition, when he married Charlotte Adair, who was also a member of the Deer Clan. I account for this lapse in Our Land! Our People! with the documented incidents later when families in the next generation disregarded clan membership when marrying, as the clan system was breaking down, and people were adopting the English familial system and different definitions of incest, but there was no corroboration of this with regard to John C. Bell and Charlotte Adair, and it is more likely that people later just got confused about which John Bell was which. John C. Bell, a Scot, married a woman of the Deer Clan, Charlotte Adair, and their children, observed the clan traditions and married spouses of the Wolf Clan, or other clans that were not Deer. John C. Bell’s father may have been named John Bell, or he may have been another David Bell; this is where the lines become unclear again, but neither married a Cherokee woman.

 

If I were to rewrite Our Land! Our People! I would consider John C. Bell as a full-blooded Scotsman, still with his Scot accent, who was one among several men who married Cherokee women and were adopted into the Nation. He was a well-known traveler, trader, farmer, and blacksmith who fell in love with a Cherokee woman, who was the daughter of another well-known Scot trader and traveler, John  Adair. That was enough of a challenge for their lives at the time without the additional burden of an accusation of incest.

 

It would have been a lot easier if there were not so many ‘Johns Bells’ in and out of the family.

 

 

John Bell’s 1842 Registered Claim

08 Wednesday Mar 2017

Posted by chaplines2014 in Cherokee history, Citizenship, Events

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Here is the witnessed claim of John Bell, the grandfather of John Francis Bell, recorded in Flint District in the Cherokee Nation West (now largely Adair County in Oklahoma):

John Bell, states on oath, he erected and made all the improvements set out in the above claim in the old Nation Since the 23rd day of May 1836.  that never was valued by the agents of the United States at the time that general evaluations made in the old Nation in the years 1836 & 7. The Loom he was compelled to have at his place of residence in 1838. When the general emigration took place as he had offered the said home for sale and could get no purchaser thereof it was lost to him. For the use and occupation of dwellings etc on the road he was from the force of circumstances literally compelled to leave said place, That the session of the legislature of the State of Georgia in the fall 1830 enacted a law compelling all white men, citizens of the Cherokee Nation to comply with certain restrictions or leave the portion of the Nation within the limits of the state. The Conditions of the said law was that he should swear to give them obedience and enforce all laws of the state, leave the state or its limits or be sentenced to the penitentiary for the time of four years at hard labor, the laws of the state being so oppressive to the Indians and he having an Indian family, would not nor could he doing justice to his own feelings comply with said law in taking the said oath, therefore  was compelled to leave the state or suffer imprisonment in the penitentiary for the term of four years, thereby left his place in Coosawattee which was well situated with a good dwelling, outbuildings + Lots, suitable for the accommodation of all kinds of stock, that in fact he was prepaid for the accommodation of travelers of all descriptions, and his place as a public stand on the road, and one of the best roads in the Cherokee Nation East, proved to him very profitable for the last five or six years before he was compelled to leave, that he left in the early part of the year 1831. And his family still resided on said place till August following, marking the time he lost the use of said place from August 1831. Till the same month in the year 1836. At the time the general valuations took place, which said place with all the appurtenances and all advantages, attributed to the said place, as a public stand and a good farm he lost or would have made annually the _____ charge per year, The five head of cattle, the Eleven head of hogs, and the shop, he entirely lost in the removal, The loss of property, consisting of home, trade, and many other articles of use to a family that he was summarily compelled to leave, and for his expenses in the removal out of the limits of the State of Georgia, was worth at a reasonable price five hundred dollars, That he has never from the United States or from any other source received compensation for the same or any part thereof.

Sworn to before me 29th April 1842. W. S. Adair [Walter Scott Adair].       John Bell [his legible signature]

Copied from 1842 Cherokee Claims, Volume 2, Compiled by Marybelle  W. Chase (Colcord, OK, Talbot Library and Museum, 2008), 54-57.

Filling In the Aporiae

24 Friday Feb 2017

Posted by chaplines2014 in Books by Gary Chapman, Cherokee history, Learning from mistakes, People, Words

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Books by Gary Chapman, life experiences, Memories, Names and Titles, Our Land! Our People!, Out of My Hands, Serendipity, The River Flows Both Ways, The Trail of Tears

 

OLOP Cover Photo 3 OOMH TRFBWcover

A Chapman is literally and historically a peddler, often of books as well as other trifles. That is how we began anyway, and I have been continuing the tradition. The first popular books for public consumption were chapbooks. Today we would call them pamphlets or paperbacks. One of my favorite Seventeenth Century chapbooks, held in the Lowenbach Collection in Chicago when I was the curator, was titled “Cures for the Plague,” and of course none of the cures would have worked.

One of the advantages of travelling around the country peddling my books is finding out where I have made mistakes in writing them. This has got to be as true when a person writes historical fiction as when writing legitimate history, if that person is concerned about getting as close to the truth as possible, both in telling a good story and in telling an accurate one.

I have known that the stories I have written in my retirement years have been about histories that will never be totally accurate, but are important nonetheless. I have tried to write my father’s early life stories so that they would be interesting and faithful to his spirit, my son-in-law’s and his brother’s emigration from Vietnam and Cambodia so that the stories would honor the ancestors who made their lives possible, and my wife’s Cherokee ancestry so that more contemporary people would appreciate the real sacrifices that have been made in building our country and the values that we should try to serve, even when they have not been served well in the past.

Talking to other people who know some of these backgrounds can be humbling. The soldier who served in Vietnam told me that he doesn’t want to listen to someone who wasn’t there, and he doesn’t want to hear the stories of his enemies, and I can understand his reasons. The family member doesn’t want to have the privacy of her dear deceased grandparents invaded, and I sympathize with that motivation as well, although our grandparents had nothing to be ashamed of and  much to make them proud. The active member of the Cherokee Nation doesn’t need another white man making money off of his people. I can only reassure him that I am not making any money.

I am learning and correcting as I go. I am finding out much that I could not have if I had not published. I am discovering that it is good to write on matters in which you have little prior knowledge or experience, because you begin to fill the holes in your own ignorance.

 

Where Was Chicken Trotter and When?

24 Friday Feb 2017

Posted by chaplines2014 in Books by Gary Chapman, Cherokee history, Citizenship, Death, Events, Learning from mistakes, People, Racial Prejudice, Small town life, Suffering, Travel

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Books by Gary Chapman, events, life experiences, Our Land! Our People!, Serendipity, The Trail of Tears

OLOP Cover Photo 3

Recently I was presenting Our Land! Our People! at the Talbot Library and Museum in Colcord, Oklahoma. I did not expect to find much in the little town of Colcord, Oklahoma, but I was wrong. Talbot publishes some significant works on Cherokee history, and their facsimile editions of the 1843 Claims were illuminating on the John Bell family in several respects. For the first time I could actually see the English and Cherokee handwriting of four key family members—John Bell, the father, and three of his Bell sons—John Adair, David Henry, and Devereaux Jarrett (better known as Chicken Trotter).

The 1843 Claims record unreimbursed losses prior to the Cherokee Removal in 1838-39, usually due to thefts or confiscations of property by non-Cherokee white men. They were submitted to recover those losses, and they had to be witnessed by at least two other reputable citizens. The Bells served as reporters of their own claims, witnesses to others, and, in the case of Chicken Trotter, an official recorder of several dozen claims by others.

Chicken Trotter’s reports are some of the clearest and most beautifully written in all of the volumes. Deciphering other writing was sometimes impossible, but “D. J. Bell” provided some of the best. That surprised me, because in other places he is recorded by the simple notation “his mark,” and I never found evidence that he had attended any of the Cherokee schools. It is no wonder that he didn’t sign his work “Devereaux Jarrett” but “D. J. Bell” works well, and there is no competitor for the use of those initials among the Bell family. David Henry Bell would be “D. H.” and he just signed as “David Bell.” As these claims were recorded in the first few months of the year, there was enough time for Chicken Trotter to get back to Texas in order to work with Governor Sam Houston to conclude the Treaty of Bird’s Fort on September 29, 1843, which ended the four years of conflict between the Texas government and several tribes. Conflict followed the second Texas governor, Mirabeau Lamar’s attempt to eradicate the native population. Sam Houston, the first governor, an official Cherokee himself,  had tried to grant reservation status to the Cherokees among others. From one administration to the next, the policies reversed from welcoming people of different cultures to trying to destroy them, and back again.

Chicken Trotter, according to the records of the Texas Cherokee population, had come to Texas during the mid-1830’s, when Chief Duwali (or Bowle, as he was also known), led the tribe. They were and continue to be located in Rusk, Cherokee and Smith Counties, as the areas are known today. When in 1839 Governor Lamar and the Texas militia killed Duwali and at least half of the tribe in a genocidal attack, Chicken Trotter soon became one of the remaining leaders.

Because of the Texas Cherokee account I rewrote Our Land! Our People! removing Chicken Trotter from Alabama, where his father lived, and from the Bell Detachment on the Trail of Tears, and putting him in Texas through the late 1830’s. After publishing, I found evidence that Chicken Trotter served his brothers in the Bell Detachment as a treasurer paying bills along the route. If he accompanied the group the whole way, he was travelling to Indian Territory from September 1838 through early January 1839, before returning to Texas in time to be in danger during the massacre of Duwali and the Cherokees in July.

When a group of Cherokees, including John Adair Bell and David Bell travelled to Texas in September and October of 1845, accompanied by the diarist and newspaper reporter William Quesenbury, they visited the northeast Texas Cherokee settlement, and Chicken Trotter was there leading the group, having established a community farm, including watermelons and pumpkins as Quesenbury notes, because some of their horses got loose and tore up the patch.

In 1848, Chicken Trotter was again in Indian Territory, joining his brother Sam and other Cherokees planning a journey to California to prospect for gold. Sam died on the way but Chicken Trotter and his wife Juliette got there before returning to their people in Texas a year or so later. There is no record about his success or failure in finding gold.

Chicken Trotter was a busy man, travelling back and forth quickly in days when travel was difficult. Maybe that is how he acquired his name.

Our Land! Our People! A Trail of Tears Narrative

01 Friday Apr 2016

Posted by chaplines2014 in Books by Gary Chapman, Cherokee history, Faith, Growing up, Racial Prejudice

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Our Land! Our People!, The Trail of Tears

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Our Land! Our People! A Trail of Tears Narrative
is now  available from:
https://www.createspace.com/6014646
Amazon.com by title
and…
Burlington By the Book

A Conspiracy to Cover with water and oil?

29 Monday Jun 2015

Posted by chaplines2014 in Cherokee history, People, Travel

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Our Land! Our People!, The Trail of Tears

Red Wolf2

I was hunting for the places where John Bell, the son and father, grandfather and great-grandfather of other John Bells, and the husband of Charlotte Adair (and the 4th great grandfather of Janet Chapman) had lived and worked. He was born in South Carolina, the son of a Scot trader and a Cherokee woman of the Deer Clan, in Greenville County, but the exact location is unknown. The Greenville records of land transactions and other legal matters before 1840 were destroyed in the 1990’s. They mostly dealt with Native Americans and African slaves, and so they were considered unnecessary and too expensive to maintain.

The journey took me to Coosawattee Town in Georgia, an ancient city that made documented history when DeSoto temporarily occupied it. John Bell and his son John Adair Bell centered their trading activity there before 1839.The strategic location between two mountains (Bell and Martin) made it too attractive to engineers, who built a dam and flooded the site, so all that I could see was Carter Lake.

Next I went to the Coosa River Plantation that John Bell developed in his middle years, when he devoted his work to blacksmithing and farming. That location near the foot of Lookout Mountain provided an easy place to locate a dam, so all I could see of the Bell plantation was the surface of Weiss Lake, about fifty feet above the old river bank.

The Bell family left Georgia and Alabama in the Cherokee Removal in a detachment directed by John Adair Bell (an uncle to Jan’s 2nd great-grandfather), and old John Bell relocated in what became Delaware County in Oklahoma along the Grand River. The Grand River plantation, where David Bell (Jan’s 3rd G-G) and Sarah Caroline Bell Waite (aunt) were buried, where members of the family continued to live for fifty years, became a casualty of the plans to build the Grand Lake of the Cherokee, so all of the original site as well as the cemetery is under water.

You can imagine what I expected when I planned to visit the cemetery in Rusk County, Texas, where John Bell and John Adair Bell moved in 1850 to escape continuing death threats. Nevertheless, the cemetery and the land that they farmed is not under water. An oil company in the 1950’s purchased the land, destroyed the Indian cemetery, and drilled for oil there. Nothing remains but photos of one tombstone in an otherwise empty oil drum, the tombstone of John Bell.

I began to think there was a conspiracy. There was, of course—a conspiracy to ignore and forget the Native American history of much of our country and the people who lived and worked here long before the current generations.

Another Stupid Thing crossed off the list

19 Friday Jun 2015

Posted by chaplines2014 in Cherokee history, Learning from mistakes

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Cherokee StarThe detachment of 660 Cherokee citizens led by John Adair Bell, Jan’s 2x great uncle, crossed the Tennessee River by ferry three times in the Chattanooga region and another time in central Tennessee at Savannah. When I was first tracing the route that they followed, collecting geographic information for the book that I was writing, it was January of 2008, and the wintry weather put me and my Jeep on icy roads in east Tennessee. I had the roads to myself most of the time, and the slow journey gave me plenty of time to examine the terrain. Much of the route followed U.S. Route 64, although bridges replaced the ferry crossings. Kelly’s Ferry crossed the river about half-way between Chattanooga and Jasper, and the crossing that I intended to use on U.S. Routes 41 and 64 was Marion Memorial Bridge over the east end of Nickajack Lake, a narrow two lane metal truss bridge built in 1929 (and closed in 2012).

The bridge rose in a high arch over the river and extended 1870 feet. As I approached it, I considered the fifty mile detour that I would have to take to get to the other side, in order to resume following the Bell route, if I did not cross the bridge that day. I sat at the café near the end of the bridge and thought about it for a while. No one crossed the bridge while I watched. Probably no one had crossed it that day. I talked to the waitress about alternate routes. She assured me that she would not cross the bridge, but she lived walking distance away from the restaurant, and wouldn’t dream of going out on the roads that day anyway.

I should have taken the detour. I realized that when I was spinning my four-wheel-drive wheels up to the highest point in the arch, and then understood that, no matter whether I slid backwards or down the coming 900 feet incline, maintaining control would require the intervention of angels. I crept down the center of the bridge lanes at slower than a walking pace, praying the whole way, and with that needed intervention I reached the other side.

Driving the route in 2008 was certainly easier than driving a team of oxen and a heavily-laden wagon in a caravan seven hundred miles in the winter of 1838-39, but there were a few elements of the trip that recollected the challenges of the original one.

Just One of the Stupid Things I have done

18 Thursday Jun 2015

Posted by chaplines2014 in Cherokee history, Learning from mistakes

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Cherokee Nation laurel and star

Charleston, Tennessee, was the site of the federal agency relating to the Cherokee Nation and Fort Cass, as the government prepared for the Cherokee Removal to the west. Since I was writing about that event, I went to investigate the geography and environment, and to discover what was left of the 1830’s era facilities. The town is small, so it is easily navigated in a few circles of about sixteen square blocks. My sources had identified a harbor that fronted Hiwassee River on the north edge; the agency building sat at the southwest corner of the harbor. I found the shallow lagoon that remains of the harbor, and a stone foundation that remains of the old agency. Across the lagoon stands the Henegar House, a fine old Victorian house with a marker in front that states that the house was originally constructed from the wood of the military barracks that had stood there.

One of the confinement stockades that housed the people of the Treaty Party supposedly stood on the hill to the east.  The hill was clearly visible above the town, but, of course, the stockade area was covered by trees and brush. Like the other stockades of the twelve or so that composed “Fort Cass,” it was probably burned as soon as it was evacuated, about five horrible months after it was supposed to be evacuated, because of delays in beginning the move west.  The dilapidated housing near the foot of the hill was the semblance of a tribute to the days when hundreds of people were confined without sanitary facilities, decent food or lodging in each of those stockades.

Down the street still stands the house that Lewis Ross built in 1820; he served as treasurer of the Cherokee Nation and brother of Chief John Ross. Like his brother, Lewis Ross prospered during that era while most of the people suffered. The original house hides within the current structure that was expanded and rebuilt many times since Ross lived there.

I decided to drive west on Cass Road, since a stockade at Mouse Creek and the Candy Creek Mission (of the American Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions) supposedly had stood west of the Charleston settlement. I turned around at Mouse Creek, about seven miles west, which was easy to identify from the map, and stopped at the other creek I had crossed, where a large industrial complex obscured the river on the north, and a picturesque valley with a new log cabin home extended to the south. I parked at the side of the road to take some pictures.

After taking the photos, I returned to the Jeep. I had left it running, since taking pictures would be quick and easy, but I must have touched the lock button when I exited. I had locked myself out of my car while it was still running. The windows were all closed since the day was chilly. The extra key in the magnet box under the bumper must have fallen off, so the only choice left was to call AAA to come and unlock my car. My cell phone was in the seat of the car. The car wasn’t going anywhere.

I walked up the lane to the new log cabin, hoping to find someone home.  When I knocked on the door, no one answered, so I sat down on a chair nearby to decide what to do next. After a minute or so a man did come to the door, saying that he was on the phone and could not come when I knocked. What did I want?

I explained my stupid mistake and why I was in the vicinity. He seemed interested and said that he didn’t know where any of the old stockades had stood, but this was Candy Creek flowing by his house, and he had heard that there had been a school upriver that served the Cherokees. His friend owned the land where Rattlesnake Springs flowed, and, after I had made my call to reach AAA, he’d call his friend and get permission for me to visit the springs, that were south of Charleston on old Dry Valley Road. Until the AAA man arrived, we had a good visit about the area, he called his friend and made arrangements for my visit, and he gave me directions. The delay took about half an hour, and what I gained more than made up for what I lost.

Rattlesnake Springs had been a Cherokee meeting area for many generations. Its abundant water provided much of the drinking water for the stockades in that valley during the confinement. The last meeting of the people occurred there before their trek west. Although it is designated as a national landmark, and has been for several years, there has been no money to develop it, and it is still owned by the family that purchased the land after the Cherokees were forced out. I had a good visit with the owner, and we looked at the spring, and what remained of the homestead that had stood nearby .

If all of my stupid and embarrassing mistakes would have led to such discoveries, I would try to make more.

June 22, 1839, at James Starr’s Farm, Western Cherokee Nation

26 Tuesday May 2015

Posted by chaplines2014 in Books by Gary Chapman, Cherokee history, Death

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Books by Gary Chapman, Our Land! Our People!, The Trail of Tears

  Cherokee Nation laurel and star

 James and all the men of the household were in the hayfield, cutting and forking hay into stacks in the late Saturday afternoon, when Caleb Starr drove his horse at a fast pace up the path in his carryall. Drawing near James he waved his arms for everyone to come near, looking grave and saying nothing in greeting. The boys—family and slave—stripped to their waists and covered in dust and sweat drew close to the grandfather.

“I want everyone to hear this together,” he said, waiting until the farthest workers had hurried near before continuing to speak. “Major Ridge was murdered this morning just a few miles north of here at Rocky Creek.”

James staggered and slowly lowered himself to the ground. A chorus of exclamations and questions followed—Why? Who did it? Why him? Why now? What were they trying to prove? Is Ross behind this? While Caleb continued to sit on the carryall seat, the rest of them sat on the ground around James and waited for their Grandfather to tell them more. He cleared his throat and remained silent for a finger of time.

“I don’t know much. The Major stayed overnight at Ambrose Harnage’s cabin at Cincinnati. He was heading south to Van Buren to check on the slave Daniel. Daniel had fallen ill after Major sent him there on an errand,. The slave boy named Apollo was with Ridge; he’s about your age, Will.  The boy said they were crossing White Rock Creek when several shots rang out, Ridge slumped in his saddle, and then toppled off. When he saw that Ridge was dead, he high-tailed it to Dutchtown, said Ridge had been shot and killed, and he needed help.”[i]

“Poor fellow was probably scared to death,” interjected Sam.

“I suppose so,” Grandfather Caleb continued.  “I don’t know for sure but I think this be an execution for Ridge’s signing the treaty. I don’t know if Ross has anything to do with it, but I’m thinking he does. But What we have to consider is how many more treaty-signers may be in danger, and that list has you on it, James. You spoke out about the need for the treaty long before it was signed.”

“That’s the truth, Father, We all knew the risk we took when we signed it, so I’m not going to run away from it now.”

“Son, you have to take measures to protect yourself. I just want you to be alert. I do not want you to run away. I want you to be watchful and not take risks if you can steer clear.”

“I’ll keep my men around me.”

They talked for two hands of time about the killing of the man who had for years served as the official Speaker for the Cherokee Nation.  His popularity spread far until he began to speak in favor of negotiating a treaty that would make the best terms they could expect. When Grandpa Caleb took his leave, they had no more interest in the hay. No clouds were in the sky to threaten, so they stopped work for the day and began their return to the house and barns.

Sam, Red Wolf, and Will were walking together. Red Wolf said, “I can’t believe the Major is gone. He was like a grandfather for the whole nation.”

Sam said, “I always heard his name spoken with respect. It is a dishonor to all of us.”

“No honor in it,” Red Wolf responded. “I remember there was much talk when the treaty was signed. Some people expected all the signers would be killed. There was a law that no one could sign away the Cherokee lands for their own benefit. The Major had proposed the law himself. On penalty of death, it was said. My grandfather said all the signers knew that some people would bear a grudge—they wanted blood, and now they have it.”

“Grudges can work both ways,” said Sam. “Where will it stop? Will they kill my father too?” They were quiet after that, until they reached the barn to do their chores

[i] This account comes from p. 338, Cherokee Tragedy by Thurman Wilkins.

Come to Life Again…May 14, 1901

02 Thursday Apr 2015

Posted by chaplines2014 in Cherokee history, Events, People

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Our Land! Our People!

The Pike County Democrat, May 15, 1901, Luna mothcarried this story under the heading “Come to Life Again:”

A dispatch from New Salem under date of May 14 tells the following story of the supposed death and coming to life of a prominent lady of that village: This community has been startled by the apparent death of a well known woman and the return to life of the supposed corpse. Mrs. Anna Bell, daughter of the late Thomas Gray, a former treasurer of Pike County, and one of the most prominent women in this community has been very ill for some time and all hopes had been given up for her recovery. Mrs. Bell, a pious Christian woman, had herself given up all hope, and was calmly awaiting the end. She bade her family and friends good-bye while she still had strength to talk. Sunday she passed into a trance, which was pronounced death. The doctors were summoned, and after a close examination they said she was dead. There was no pulse and no perceptible beat of the heart. Neither did she breathe. The usual tests were made, the tests that are generally regarded as infallible, and all indicated death. A lighted candle held before her mouth and nostrils did not flicker in the least. The lighted candle was held back of her hand, and there was no dim light between the fingers. There was no doubt that she was dead, and while the family mourned, preparations were made for the funeral. The undertaker was summoned to prepare the body for burial, and it was decided that the funeral should be held Tuesday. The body grew cold while the preparations for the funeral went on, but after several hours it became warm again, and then the supposed corpse gave signs of returning life. The undertaker was sent home and the physicians were again called, and after several hours more Mrs. Bell returned to consciousness. She is still alive but is very low and weak. The family is rejoicing.[i]

[i] The Pike County Democrat, Pittsfield, Illinois, Volume XLIV, Wednesday, May 15, 1901, page 2. The Barry Adage also carried the story.

Willie Ann (Anna) Bell was the grandmother of Glen Hillmann, who was living with her at this time. Glen Hillmann was the grandfather of Janet (Kleinlein) Chapman.

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