Posts Tagged ‘Sioux Indians’

“People Count Themselves to Death in This Life”

September 24, 2012

Image from Today in Literature

Superior Sagas


This country has run plumb out of frontier. But despite the laments of the pessimists, it has not run out of the bold, freewheeling pioneer spirit before which the frontier vanished.

That, says an expert (borrowing from Freud) is the reason we Americans are crazy about westerns; We read ’em by the thousands to sublimate our intense yearning to pack up the covered-wagon and git for the great open spaces.

And that goes for President Eisenhower, too, who is one of the most consecrated devotees of western fiction in the country.
So says Louis L’Amour (his square name), walking encyclopedia of the Old West and author of “Hondo” and other superior sagas of the wild and woolly.

“The American is still a tough hombre, rough and ready, no matter what sociologists say about the debilitating effects of central heating, can openers and air-conditioned autos,” said L’Amour when I cornered him for luncheon the other day.

*     *     *

Product of West

A product of the Old West and the descendant of pioneers, at least one of whom lost his hair to the Sioux, the author bases this heartening appraisal of his fellow citizens in part on his experience with them in a tank destroyer unit in Europe during World War II.

“It may take a jolt to waken that tough, rough and ready streak in him, but he’s got it, even here in the effete East,” says L’Amour.

Born in North Dakota, this is one western author who spent his childhood playing cowboy and Indians with real cowboys and bona fide Indians. There he began to collect, subconsciously, the extraordinary range of western lore that makes the background of his western as authentic and factual as a history of the period.

“I’ve got no time for this Hopalong Cassidy stuff,” said L’Amour, who looks as big and rough hewn as any of his heroes. Having committed heresy, he went on to say that his hero gets the girl, if any, and doesn’t have to go around kissing horses in the sunset.

Even though the Indians scalped his great-grandfather, the author has affection and respect for the noble Redskin and treats him as a man with problems, mainly the pale face, in his fiction.

Not only is L’Amour recognized as a real long-hair student of the Old West as pertains to the pioneers but as an expert on the American Indian, his life and hard times. The two fields mesh and L’Amour is toying with the idea of writing a dictionary or encyclopedia on both.

Most Americans today, he pointed out, don’t even know such elementary facts as why the pioneer used oxen rather than horses or mules on the trek west, or how much goods and gear a covered wagon held.

*     *     *

Lot More Tasty

Fully loaded, the wagon would tote 2500 pounds. And nature provided the oxen with large hoofs which didn’t sink into sand or sod as did the dainty hoofs of horses and mules. And, in addition, oxen were a lot more tasty in the stew pot if worse came to worst and an animal had to be killed for food.

L’Amour always intended to be an author, but never of westerns. His first novels were about the East Indies, on which he is also an expert. In fact, this inexhaustible man is a student and expert on a dizzying number of subjects, Indian archeology and the 12th Century, to name two.

He recently signed a contract to do two novels on the 12th Century theme. But in the intermin, he has a number of novels on the fire for Americans who long for a home where the buffalo roam and who, when they settle down with a good book, begin to hum “Don’t Fence Me In.”

Albuquerque Tribune (Alburquerque, New Mexico) Aug 12, 1954

This Writer’s Life Better Than Stories


NEW YORK (AP) — “People count themselves to death in this life,” said Louis L’Amour, declining to give his age.

With L’Amour, one of America’s  most prolific adventure writers, keeping his age to himself isn’t a matter of vanity. It’s a philosophy.

“It isn’t the number of years you’ve lived that’s important,” he said, “It’s a mistake to measure living in terms of years. It’s how you’ve spent the years that puts real meaning into existence.”

Judged by most standards, L’Amour has had enough experiences to last the ordinary man through several reincarnations.

The average adventure writer is a swivel chair dreamer who would think twice before picking a quarrel with his dentist.  L’Amour not only looks like the adventure heroes he writes about — he probably could whip one of his own heroes in a fight with either fist or gun.

The big 6-foot-1 inch author weighs 200 and is a judo expert as well as an authority on desert or jungle survival. He has been a sailor, a miner, a hobo, a professional boxer — he won 54 bouts, lost 5 — and an antitank combat officer in World War II.

At 15 he left his home in Jamestown, N.D., and joined a circus as the first step in a search for adventure that has carried him to almost every place in the world.

“Even then I knew I wanted to write,” he recalled. “But I figured I could learn more out of school than in it. I felt I had to see life before I could write about it.”

“I had 200 stories rejected before I sold my first one for $10,” he recalled.

His career has now reached the jackpot stage. He has published more than 400 short stories, turned out half a dozen adventure novels, including “Hondo,” made into a movie starring John Wayne, to whom he bears a strong physical resemblance. Recently he sold a magazine serial for $15,000, sat down and wrote another book, “We Shape the Land,” in 55 hours at the typewriter in 5 days.

L’Amour, whose own experiences have proved a fruitful gold mine, has no patience with people who think of adventure as something limited to the glamerous past.

“It isn’t,” he said soberly. “There is more adventure alive in the world today than there ever was, plenty of unexplored places. Adventure is there waiting for any man with the courage to go and find it. But you’ll never discover it by looking at the calendar — and counting yourself to death.”

Abilene Reporter News (Abilene, Texas) Apr 25, 1955

*     *     *

Proving, once again,  that “going to school” is not the same thing as “receiving an education”:

Anderson Daily Bulletin (Anderson, Indiana) Sep 16, 1954

*     *     *

Panaman City News (Panama City, Florida) Jul 16, 1969

*     *     *

One of several Louis L’Amour books made into a movie:

Hammond Times (Hammond, Indiana) Sep 27, 1956

*     *     *

A real “corker” of a quote:

The Daily Intelligencer (Doylestown, Pennsylvania) Dec 27, 1955

Sitting Bull, Great Chief of the Sioux

September 30, 2011


Sitting Bull, the Great Chief of the Sioux, His Peculiar Character.
[Special Correspondence]

ST PAUL, Sept. 18 — Probably when the facts are all known it will be discovered that Sitting Bull had more to do in influencing the Indians against signing the treaty at Standing Rock than any other man. Bull is an Indian of large brain, as the writer ascertained while traveling with him for three months in the east. He is diplomatic in his nature, not a great warrior, but rather a safe counselor, and as such he has great influence with the Indians. He is a thoughtful savage, and his travels in New York, Philadelphia and Brooklyn, in 1884, taught him the ways of the whites to such an extent that he is now well able to cope with them. He is especially good in making a bargain. Indeed, the writer considers him intellectually one of the most powerful Indians on the American continent. That he has had much to do in shaping the opinions of the tribe there can be no doubt.

Sitting Bull’s Indian name is Ta-ton Ka-i-o-ton Ka, and he was born on the banks of Grand river within the boundaries of the great Sioux reservation and about forty five miles southwest from the present Standing Rock agency in Dakota. He is 55 years of age, has a very large head, is cool and thoughtful, very decided in his ways, and yet will listen to argument and will answer with argument. His original name was Wa-Kan-you na gin, or Standing Holy, which name he retained until he was 14 years old, when his father, whose name was Sitting Bull, took him along with him on the warpath into the Crow country (the inveterate enemies of the Sioux), and he, the 14-year-old boy, counted his first victory by killing a Crow Indian. After returning to their home his father “threw away” three ponies, i.e. killed them in honor of his brave son’s achievement, at the same time announcing that he had changed the name of his son from Standing Holy to that of Sitting Bull, bestowing his own name upon him.

In person, Sitting Bull is a solidly built Indian, not quite so tall as an ordinary savage, yet heavier in many respects. His features are strong, and when he walks he turns his toes inward, strikes the ground with a heavy, jarring tread, and moves rapidly like a man of business. His general look is heavy, while that of Little Crow, the leader of the great Indian outbreak in Minnesota in 1861, and Hole-in-the-Day, the great Chippewa chief, were more refined, but none the less true Indians. The Dakotas believe that they must imitate Hay-o-Kah, or the undemonstrative god, who inculcates the idea that it is not dignified, or manly, or great to evince lively emotions of grief or joy, but under all circumstances, even of torture and death itself, the Indian must show a stoical, impassive face, and hence the immovable features of Sitting Bull, or any other Indian who lays claim to power among his tribe. The principal characteristic of this great medicine man — for he is known among his tribe as such — is his stubbornness of character, the same element which made Grant the greatest warrior of modern times. With judicious management Bull could, no doubt, be won over to the whites, but you can’t drive him.


Decatur Republican (Decatur, Illinois) Sep 27, 1888

Image from the Arlington National Cemetery website


Fought June 25th, 1876.


Roll on oh! cruel time; close up the year,
That marks the rounding of a century,
Since first our forefathers rejoic’d to hear,
The declaration, that all men are free.

We honor the names of the minute-men,
Who fought in the revolutionary strife,
And fell, at Lexington and Concord then,
To give the nation liberty and life.

But now the last battle-field comes in sight,
And casts its shadow o’er our peaceful land,
Like the death-angel who took his swift flight,
The clouds of war had been thickening fast,
And Sitting Bull with his wild Sioux bands,
Were gath’ring for war, for a fortnight past,
In the Maucaises terres or Bad Lands.
And the came the first bloody fray,
With the Sioux, who swept down like a sea,
How Custer’s and Reno’s command that day,
Had fought as they did at Thermopyke.

How Custer, surrounded on every side,
Like Leonidas still cheered his men,
Who fought ’till swept away by the fierce tide,
That roll’d over them again and again.

Three hundred strong they were before the fight,
Three hundred they follow’d the new-made trail,
Three hundred they fell to the left and to the right,
And not a man returned to tell the tale.

Close up the grave of the heroic dead,
Question not, till the resurrection morn’.
The last patriot’s blood was freely shed,
At the battle of Little Big Horn.

Strengthen the sacred ties of our nation.
Stand shoulder to shoulder in every fight,
Against the foes of civilization.
The enemies of true freedom and Right.

Decatur Republican (Decatur, Illinois) Jul 20, 1876

SITTING BULL has given his version of the Custer massacre. He states that the battle lasted only thirty minutes, and that Custer with a few men and officers had cut through the Indian line when he turned and charged back. The Indians were bewildered by this unlooked-for desperate charge, but closed in on the few men and killed them all. Custer, it is said, shot five Indians, and went down beating another with the butt of his revolver. This account corresponds with others coming from Indian sources.

Decatur Republican (Decatur, Illinois) Jul 12, 1877

Image from the Prints Old & Rare website

THE celebrated prescription formulated by Gen. Dix, “If any man attempt to tear down the American flag, shoot him on spot,” was not attempted at the Red Cloud Agency a few days ago for certain reasons, whereof the particulars are interesting. Dr. Saville, the Government Agent at the Red Cloud Agency, with a sudden and unaccountable gush of patriotism, hoisted the American flag at his agency, — a custom, we are informed, prevailing since the agencies have been established in this country.

The sight of the star-spangled had the same effect upon the Sioux that the traditional scarlet rag has upon the bull, for at noon the braves rushed upon the agency buildings, tore down the American flag, and ornamented their handsome persons with portions of the bunting. Dr. Saville sent to Red Cloud to stop the outrage, but no answer was given, it being rumored that this pleasant gentleman was enjoying his Indian summer vacation.

There was every prospect of a severe fight before the respectable Agent, when he received unexpected aid from Camp Robinson. Between the honeyed words of Sitting Bull, a Sioux renegade, and the sabres of United States cavalry, the Agency buildings were rid of their visitors; but the man who hauled down the American flag lives to boast of his feat in Indian gibberish, in defiance of Gen. Dix.

Decatur Republican (Decatur, Illinois) Nov 5, 1874

The Murder of Chief Logan Fontanelle

June 1, 2010

Omaha Scouts - 1865

Image from Legends of America with article about the Omaha Indians HERE.

From the St. Louis Republican

Death of Logan Fontanelle, The Omaha Chief.

Logan Fontanelle, Chief of the Omahas, has just been slain and scalped at Loup Fork, by a band of Sioux. Logan was a noble fellow, and in this last mortal conflict he dispatched several of the enemy to the spirit land before, to herald the coming of his own brave soul. He fought long, desperately, and with great effect, but numbers finally overcame him, and his life departed through a hundred wounds. He died a martyr for his people, and his name should be carved on fame’s brightest tablet.

Omaha Camp - 1898 (Image from

He was on his annual hunt with his nation. A number of his lodges were pitched on the plains near Loupe Fork. — As a young warrior one day rode around the adjacent hills he espied a powerful band of Sioux encamped along a stream in a sequestered vale. He hastened to inform Logan of the propinquity and power of their natural foe. Logan ordered his people to pack immediately, and proceed in a straight line and with all speed for home, while he would remain behind and divert the Sioux by false camp fires and other devices, from a direct purusit of them. This was about twilight. The people got under way as quickly as possible, but not too soon; for scarcely had they turned a highland, when several Sioux warriors came in sight and discovered the place of their recent encampment. They examined it, and found that Omahas had been there, and then they returned to notify their chief, and bring an adequate force to pursue and slaughter them. Logan, from a hiding-place, saw all, and knew no time was to be lost in drawing their attention from the trail, which they would soon discover and follow, and mounting his horse, he dashed away at full speed across the prairie, at right angles with the route his tribe had taken, and struck a fire about eight miles distant, on an eminence where the Sioux could distinctly see it. He had scarcely done so before a powerful band were upon the spot that he and his people had so lately left, and who, without stopping to distinguish the trail, started for the fire, which they saw rising against the clear blue sky, and where they expected in another moment to imbrue their hands in the gore of their unguarded victims. But Logan had not been unwary. As soon as the fire was lighted, he again mounted and rode on eight or ten miles further, and kindled another fire just as they reached the first. This rather bewildered them. They dismounted and examined the ground. Logan, anticipating this, had trotted and walked his horse around it, so as to make the appearance upon the grass of the treading of a dozen horses; and this drew them into the belief that a small body had lingered behind and kindled this fire, and then gone on to where they could see the new fire burning; and so they followed with renewed avidity. The same thing happened as before. Logan had gone on, and another fire met their astonished gaze, while the same sort of foot-prints were about the one around which they were now gathered. Their suspicions were now awakened. They examined the ground more closely, both far and near, and discovered that a solitary horseman had deceived them, and they knew it was for the sole purpose of leading them off from the pursuit of the party whose encampnent they had first discovered.

Logan saw them going round with glaring torches and understood their object, and knew that his only chance of safety was an immediate flight towards his home; and he further knew that by the time they could retrace their way to their place of starting, and find the trail that his own people had taken, they would be beyond the reach of danger.

The Sioux, in the meantime, had divided into smaller bands, the largest of which was to return and pursue the Omahas, and the others to endeavor to capture the one who had misled them. They knew that he must be an Omaha, and that he would either go further and kindle another watch-fire, or start for his nation in a straight line; and, therefore, one party went on a little further, and the others spread out toward the Omaha country for the purpose of intercepting him. Logan pressed forward as rapidly as his jaded steed could bear him, until he thought he had entirely eluded them; but as the day dawned, to his horror and dismay, he saw his pursuers close upon his track. He turned his course for a ravine, which he distinguished at a distance, covered with trees and undergrowth. He succeeded in reaching it, and just within its verge he met an Indian girl dipping water from a spring. She was startled, and about to cry for help, when he hastily assured her that he needed protection and assistance. With the true instincts of noble woman, she appreciated his situation in an instant, and all her sympathies were with him. She directed him to dismount and go to a small natural bower to which she pointed him, in the verge of the woods, while she would mount horse and lead his pursuers away. He obeyed her, and she mounted his horse and dashing on in a serpentine way through the woods, leaving marks along the brushes by which she could be traced. The pursuers soon followed. When she had got some distance down the branch, she rode into the water and followed its descending course for a few steps, making her horse touch its sides and leave foot-prints in that direction, and then turned up the bed of the stream and rode above the place at which she entered it, without leaving a trace, and back to where Logan was concealed. She told him to mount and speed away, while his pursuers were going in a contrary direction down the ravine. He did so, and got a long distance out of sight, and again thought himself beyond the reach of danger, when, in a valley just in front of him, he saw fifty braves coming up the hill and meeting him. — They were some of those who were returning from the pursuit of his people. He changed his direction and tried to escape, but his poor horse was too much exhausted to bear him with sufficient speed. With savage yells they plunged their rowels into their horses’ sides and gained upon him. As the foremost approached within good shooting distance, Logan turned suddenly and sent a bullet through his brain. Then, loading as he galloped on, he soon after made another bite the dust; and then another and another, until four were strewed along the plain. Just then, however, as he was again reloading, his horse stumbled and fell, and the band rushed upon him before he had well recovered from the shock. He was shot with bullets and arrows, and gashed with tomahawks, and pierced with lances; notwithstanding all which, he arose amidst his foes, and with his clubbed rifle and hunting knife, he piled around him five prostrate bodies, and fell with his back upon their corpses and expired, still fighting.

He was scalped, and hundreds of warriors held a great war-dance over him.

Thus Logan Fontanelle departed, and his noble spirit was followed to the spirit-land by the sighs and lamentations of his nation and the sympathies and aspirations of the brave of every land.

The Mountain Democrat (Placerville, California) Oct 25, 1855


Woe for the proud departed!
Bowed in grief.
Wail for the lion-hearted
Not from the white man’s steeple
Moans thy knell,
But from thy stricken people

They wail thee in thy mystic
Temple’s dome,
The shades of thy majestic
Forest home.
Like some great warrior-eagle
Fought and fell,
Their Sachem, brave and regal —

Sublime and self-reliant,
Stern he stood,
High heart and brow defiant
Raining blood,
Death-waters like a river
Rage and swell,
Then didst thou blench? No — never!

Like Death himself, thou’rt scything
Down the foe!
Around thee they are writhing
Prone and low,
Yet shadows darkly, dimly,
O’er thee fell;
Thy soul fled, strong and sternly,

Thy clay in scorn they taunted,
Stark and frore;
The owl’s cry from the haunted
Echoed the Sioux’ sharp, savage
Whoop and yell,
Over their deeds of ravage,

The springtime blooms in gladness
Yet dwells a tone of sadness
On the air;
And rythmic winds are sighing
Down the dell,
Where they dead heart is lying,

In thine ancestral bowers,
Long ago,
Where through their banks of flowers
Streamlets flow;
A voice, like some soft-ringing
Fairy bell,
Was wont to greet thee, singing —

Did life-joys like a river
Sweeping by,
In death’s dread moment quiver
O’er thine eye?
And, did thy brave heart dying,
Strive to quell
Thought of that lone one, crying

Did one sweet face, elysian,
Fond and dear,
Seem to thy failing vision
Floating near?
Did eyes that thou wert loving
Passing well,
Look forth to find their roving

Aye! Eyes watch from thy fortress
Keen glances of the portress
Pierce the shade;
And footsteps like the markless
Fleet gazelle,
Come bounding through the darkness —

That eye-beam ne’er shall greet thee
Home again,
Her fleet foot spring to meet thee
O’er the plain;
Yet all the world, admirant,
Owns thy spell,
Oh! Glory’s young aspirant,

We’ve known no sadder story
Yet live — live in thy glory
Let age to age thy stately
Triumphs tell,
Thou’st perished — but how greatly,

By Lucy Virginia French

Title: One or Two?
Authors: Lucy Virginia French, Lide Smith Meriwether
Publisher: Meriwether Bros., 1883
(Google book LINK) pgs. 76-79

From the following book:

Title: Our Debt to the Red Man; The French-Indians in the Development of the United States
Author: Houghton Louise Seymour
Publisher: BiblioBazaar, LLC, 2009

Page 70 – Limited Preview only on Google Books

From the following book:

Title: The American Cyclopaedia: A Popular Dictionary of General Knowledge, Volume 12
Authors: George Ripley, Charles Anderson Dana
Publisher: D. Appleton, 1883
(Google books LINK page 624)

Wabaunsee: Death of a Great War Chief

February 21, 2009

Chief Wabaunsee "Dawn of Day"

Chief Wabaunsee "Dawn of Day"

Correspondence of the Washington Union.

Death of the Great War Chief

Your readers, or many of the good people of the metropolis, at least, will recollect this venerable man. He was the principal war chief of the Pottawatomie nation, and was here on a visit with the delegation who came here from Council Bluffs last fall to see their great father the President of the United States.

Returning home in December, having reached Wheeling, they found that winter had set in in good earnest. All hope of getting to St. Louis by water was abandoned — the river was entirely frozen up. The party therefore took stage, being very anxious to get back to their nation, and recount to them the result of their long journey and important visit to their great father. The road was very icy; and passing along not far from Marietta, in Ohio, one of the stages turned over, and injured several of the Indian chiefs. Amongst the rest, Waw-bon-see received some serious injuries. Being old and infirm, he could not recover; but, with his characteristic firmness and intrepidity, this truly brave man held on, and continued his journey until he reached Booneville, in the State of Missouri, where he died. And thus the scene closes with this extraordinary son of the wilderness, whose life had been signalized for his many acts of daring and bravery. The very name of this “great brave” was conferred upon him in consequence of one of his daring deeds. It was this:

In one of their war expeditions, he and his little party found themselves most unexpectedly in close contact with a superior party of Sioux*, then their deadly enemies. A council was held by the Pottawatomie war party during the night, and it was unanimously decided that some decisive blow must be struck before the approaching morning should expose them to their enemies, who were superior to them in numbers. It was soon decided. This lion-hearted man, who is now the subject of these few lines, came forward, and with the brief but determined tone of a brave warrior, said he would undertake the execution of the plan. It was, that he should steal into the lodge of the unsuspecting Sioux at  the still hour of the night, and, single handed, he was to deal out fatal blows to the whole of them, well knowing that if he failed, or made a misstep, and aroused them out of their slumbers, he and all his comrades must perish. Thus nerved to the fearful and doubtful issue, this brave is seen creeping stealthily into the camp of the Sioux just as the dawn of day, when sleep is most profound. He is successful — every one of his enemies sink under the well-aimed blows of his unerring tomahawk; and thus did he secure to himself this proud name, which, for more that two-thirds of a century, has been a terro to his and other surrounding nations. Waw-bon-see signifies, in the Pottawatomie tongue, the “dawn of day.” It was just at that time that he destroyed the Sioux. Hence his name, which he ever afterwards was known by.

But Waw-bon-see, the great brave of the red men, is no more. He had seen his hundred winters; had been in many wars, both with the white and the red man, and was always foremost in battle. He was highly respected by his nation, not only for his courage, but for his just and wise counsels; he was alike distinguished both in the battle-field and in the cabinet, and his loss will be deeply deplored by his people.

It is to be regretted that he could not have reached his home and his nation once more, as he was returning after having enjoyed several personal and most agreeable and interesting interviews with the President of the United States, the honorable Secretary of War, and the honorable Commissioner of Indian Affairs, with whom he and all the other chiefs were much pleased. But the good old man has been gathered to his fathers, and it is to be hoped that his spirit has gone to the fine hunting-grounds, which the red men believe to be in wait for all their brave and good warriors beyond the grave.                 E.

N.B.–The other chiefs had recovered from their slight injuries, and were, when last heard of, at Westport, in Jackson county, Missouri, and getting on very well towards their villages at Council Bluffs.

Republican Compiler (Gettysburg, Pennsylvania) Feb 23, 1846

*Wikipedia gives a different account of the Sioux incident.

As a young man, Nah-Ke-ses set out to avenge the death of a close friend. He used the cover of a misty morning to sneak into an Osage village where reportedly he single-handedly killed several fierce Osage warriors before they could sound an alarm. Nah-ke-ses was then named “Wabaunsee” or “Little Dawn.” Once when asked why, “Waabaansii” responded, “When I kill an enemy he turns pale [waabaanzo], resembling the first light of the day [waaban].”

Potawatomi Web has tons of information, including maps and pictures. Great site.

The Ledger-Sentinel has this  to say about where Wabaunsee’s village was located:

Waubonsee was the principal war chief of the local Potowatomi and lived at his permanent village near Aurora. In fact, in the Treaty of 1829, Waubonsee was granted five sections of land-3,200 acres-located “…on Fox River of the Illinois, where Shaytees Village now stands.”

It has been said for years that Waubonsee’s village was located at Oswego, but it now seems clear his permanent village was indeed located well north of Oswego in the Big Woods near Aurora. What has confused things was that old settlers reported to the Rev. E.W. Hicks, the county’s first historian, that Waubonsee had a “camping ground” near Oswego. It seems a natural jump from “camping ground” to village, but it’s too far a jump. The Potowatomi, Ottawa, and Chippewa all broke up into small family groups each winter and each family group had a winter camp. Many of these winter family camps were on the Illinois River but some were also on the Fox. One of Waubonsee’s may have been at Oswego. The early settlers probably took for granted that everyone knew the Indians broke into family groups for the winter and so took no further pains to explain the significance of Waubonsee’s “camping ground.”

Newsfinder has “A Potawatomi Story.”

This story is really two stories that come from the Native American peoples of Wisconsin. The first story is a Potawatomi story of the origin of humans, and the second concerns the Potawatomi, Ojibwe, and Ottawa peoples.

You can read the story at the link.

The Kansas Collection has other information about the Potawatomi people, including “two great battles with the whites.”

Chaska and Corabelle: Painted Red

February 6, 2009


Miss Cora Fellows and Chaska to be Married Today.

Invitations Are Issued and the Event Will be Celebrated by a Dance at Swift Bird’s Camp — Miss Fellows’ Big Brother Will be Present and it is Hinted Will Lead the War Dance.

PIERRE, Dak., March 23. — To-marrow is the day set for the marriage of Miss Cora Fellows, the pretty, infatuated and determined school teacher at Swift Bird, to Chaska, the big buck Sioux Indian. The postponement of the wedding to March 24th, which Miss Fellows’ friends fondly hoped would evolve some means of breaking off the match, has not served its purpose. Every possible arguement has thus far been used, but without avail. Invitations were issued to friends to attend a ball at Swift Bird’s camp to-morrow night by Miss Fellows. Chaska delivered them to the guests and the nuptial knot will be tied to-morrow by Rev. Handforth. Word comes from Fort Bennett that Miss Fellows’ brother has arrived from Chicago and will stop the marriage. A scene is looked for.

Bismarck Daily Tribune (Bismarck, North Dakota  ) Mar 24, 1888


Sneaking Sam Campbell.
PIERRE, Dak., April 2. — The marriage of Miss Cora Fellows to the Indian, Chaska, is finally accomplished. Around the Indian agency Chaska is known as Sam Campbell, and is a worthless thieving Santee without any white blood in his veins, and not the Indian missionary which recent reports have announced.

Daily Huronite (Huron, South Dakota) Apr 3, 1888


IT NOW TURNS out that Miss Cora Fellows married the Indian, Chaska, simply to advertise herself. She wants to write a novel, and is under the impression that her marriage will create so much talk that people will be crazy to read her book. Perhaps her story deals with border life, and she is trying to get the proper local color. “Painted Red” would be a good title for her novel.

The Atlanta Constitution (Atlanta, Georgia) Apr 5, 1888


Mrs. Chaska May Make a Show.
PIERRE. April 10. — Special to the Sioux City Journal: Much has been said pro and con, regarding the marriage of Chaska, the Indian, to Miss Cora Belle Fellows, the late Washington City belle. There no longer exists any doubt about the ceremony being performed at Swift Bird’s camp, on the Missouri, sixty miles above this city. Owing to the heavy run of ice, it has been impossible to get any authentic report until to-day. Last week a telegram from a St. Paul dime museum was sent to this city to be delivered to Mrs. Chaska, nee Fellows, offering her and her husband $5,000 to appear in a ten weeks’ engagement as freaks. The telegram was delivered to a messenger and by him delivered to Mrs. Chaska. Today the messenger returned from Swift Bird’s camp, having accomplished his mission. The messenger states that Mrs. Chaska and her husband received the offer in a friendly manner and wrote the museum for a few days in which to consider the matter.

Daily Huronite (Huron, South Dakota) Apr 11, 1888


THE marriage of Mr. Chaska, the Sioux Indian, and Miss Fellows has attracted more attention than any marriage of a similar kind since Miss Pocahontas became the better-half of John Rolfe. The only drawback about the latter wedding was that it made a possibility of that human wasp — John wasp — John Randolph of Roanoke. However, if Mr. and Mrs. Chaska get along as well together in the nuptial harness as Mr. and Mrs. Rolfe, the friends of the bride can afford to overlook the obliquity of her choice.

Reno Evening Gazette (Reno, Nevada) Apr 11, 1888


One Indian Civilized.
The Minneapolis Tribune is malicious. It says: “As it becomes generally known that Mrs. Chaska, nee Fellows, was a maiden 45 years of age, and her husband is a young, untutored savage, popular pity will be transferred from the bride to the groom, and his taste, instead of hers, will be criticized.

Galveston Daily News (Galveston, Texas) Apr 25, 1888

Richard F. Outcault, "The Amateur Dime Museum in Hogan's Alley," cartoon, New York World 4 Oct. 1896

Richard F. Outcault, "The Amateur Dime Museum in Hogan's Alley," cartoon, New York World 4 Oct. 1896

The Museum Thronged to See Mrs. Chaska and “Sam-u-el”

ST PAUL, May 7 — The dime museum where Mr. and Mrs. Campbell (Chaska) began to receive the public was thronged this afternoon. Mrs. Campbell don’t like the Indian name. She calls him “Sam-u-el.” Chaska is 6 feet 8 inches tall and as straight as an arrow. He is a rather good looking fellow when he talks but usually he is sullen. He can speak excellent English if he will, having spent two years in the Lincoln institute in Philadelphia. He has rather fine features, but small pox has left its mark upon his face and he has the high cheek bone and straight black hair of the Indian. He is 23 years old. Mrs. Chaska is a mite of humanity being just 5 feet 1 inch in height. She is rather slender, not pretty until she begins to talk and then she is bright and interesting.

Bismarck Daily Tribune (Bismarck, North Dakota) May 8, 1888


A Dime Museum Lie.

WASHINGTON, May 10. — The father of Cora Belle Fellows, who recently married Chaska, a Sioux, says that the story sent from St. Paul yesterday that the newly married couple had accepted an offer of $5,000 for ten weeks engagement in a dime museum is an outrageous lie. It is suspected some museum manager proposed exhibiting some bogus Mr. and Mrs. Chaska.

Reno Evening Gazette (Reno, Nevada) May 10, 1888



The Curiously-Mated Pair From the Cheyenne Reservation.
From the St. Paul Pioneer-Press.

She is here. Not the character about whom Haggard wrote, but Miss Cora Belle Fellows-Campbell, the young lady who sacrificed home ties to become the wife of Samuel Campbell, better known as Chaska. Mrs. Campbell was attired in a neat black satin dress trimmed with passementerie. She is twenty-eight years old, is not pretty, but fair-looking. One pretty feature about her face is her beautiful, regular-set teeth. She is apparently about five feet four inches in height. Chaska, the sly young Lothario who wooed and won her, lounged on a divan apparently contented with his surroundings. He wore a buckskin shirt and moccasins trimmed with beads. He wore common plebeian pants, which goes to show that he is becoming civilized by the influence of his pale-faced bride. He is six feet two inches in height, has the regulation straight black hair, which has been cut to keep pace with his rapid strides toward civilization. He is 25 years of age. His face shows marks of smallpox, but the prominent cheek bones, characteristic of the Indian, are not so noticeable. He speaks fairly good English, writes plainly, and seems rather bright, but yesterday he was a stranger in a strange land under exceedingly strange circumstances, and he was not in a talkative mood. In fact, a short, gruff “yes” or “no” was about the only answer tht could be gotten from him. But his wife is a brilliant and entertaining conversationalist. Mrs. Campbell chatted pleasantly with all the callers. When asked on what date they were married she replied: “We were married March 16 at St. Stephen’s by the Rev. Dr. Hanford, an Episcopal rector. We have been married on so many different dates by the newspapers that I hardly know myself when we were married.”

Mrs. Campbell has with her their marriage certificate to prove the date, and also to assure doubting ones that they are the much advertised couple. When asked about her parents she said that of course they had been opposed to the marriage. When she left Washington, about three years ago, she was cautioned not to fall in love with an Indian. When she married Chaska her mother wrote telling her that she would not disown her, but that their correspondence must cease. Then, when it became known that efforts were being made to induce her to go on exhibition, her mother wrote that if she took this last step her daughter and herself would be obliged to leave the country. They could not remain in Washington with such a social disgrace hanging over them. Mrs. Campbell, continuing, said:

“I understand father has decided to accept an offer to go to South America. I know just what I am doing. I knew that my parents would not support me now. Influences have been brought to bear, so that I will probably lose my school. My husband has no money, but I love him, and I saw this chance to make enough money to buy a farm and make us independent, so I grasped this opportunity.”

Mrs. Campbell, while not anxious to talk to strangers, answered all questions pleasantly and proved herself an entertaining lady. She has with her a number of letters which she has received since her marriage and some are real curiosities. One gentleman writes, and, after admiring her for her pluck in marrying the man she loved, concludes by asking if she cannot find some pretty little Indian girl for him. Some censure her and others declare themselves in favor of her course.

The Atlanta Constitution (Atlanta, Georgia) May 11, 1888

Dime Museum, Chicago, IL

Dime Museum, Chicago, IL

Chaska and Cora Expected Friday!
Poetic War-whoop.

Chicago Times.

From the northland can the steam cars,
Steam cars from the frigid northland
Bearing Chaska, Indian bridegroom;
Chaska, ???ter than the north wind;
Chaska, bravest of all chieftains.

Braver far than Hiawatha.
Braver far than Mudgekewis.
Braver far than old Nukumis,
Old Nukomis, injun grandma,
For he wooed the pale-faced maiden,
Maiden fair, of –umpty summers.

Fairest of all pale-faced maidens,
Cora Belle, the missionary;
Lived she on the reservation
All among the painted Injuns.

Them she taught to read and cipher;
She instructed in draw poker.
Till they went across the river
And did up the wily trader
Out of all his filthy lucre.

Fairer than the honeysuckle.
Fairer than the prairie daisy;
When she deigned unveil her features
All the birds did cease their singing,
All the rabbits stopped their playing,
And in many a distant city
All the clocks did cease their running.

So the preacher he united
Them in holy matrimony;
Chaska straightway then endowed her
With the sum of his possessions
Which they were a pair of mocc’sins
And a chaw of plug tobacco.

Then they hied them to the east-land
With a contract in his pocket,
Contract fat for him and Cora,
In dime museum to exhibit.
“We will win the filthy lucre,
Filthy lucre of the jays who
Come to see us in the museum,
When we’ve finished, we will toodly.

Toodly back to far Dakota,
And upon the reservation
We will open up a ranch where
Braves can purchase for a dollar
All the whiskey they can swallow!”

Daily Huronite (Huron, South Dakota)  Jun 5, 1888

President Cleveland

President Cleveland

At the president’s reception Thursday, Chaska, the Indian, and his bride, Cora Bell Fellows, daughter of a clerk in the surgeon general’s office, shook hand with Mr. Cleveland.

The Daily Northwestern (Oshkosh, Wisconsin) Jul 14, 1888

Cheyenne River Agency (Big Foot)

Cheyenne River Agency (Big Foot)


St. Paul, Minn., Oct. 5. — The appearance of Chaska, the Indian, and his bride Cora Belle Fellows, the Washington girl who threw herself away upon the redskin, at the dime museum, is still fresh in the memory of Eastern people. Many inquiries have been made about the ill-assorted pair, and this morning Manager McFadden, in reply to an inquiry as to what had become of them, said: “Oh, they are back on their farm in Swift Bird’s camp. You remember we had to buy the farm and then we made them a present of it. But they didn’t stock it as the intended with the salary they got. We paid them $500 a week and expenses, and as they were engaged for 10 weeks they got a tidy little sum. After the second week she bought herself some diamond earrings and paid $600 for them. This contented the bride for a while, but in Chicago she wanted some dresses and they were the best she could buy. She bought an outfit, including a sealskin sacque, although it was midsummer, that cost her $1,200.

Then Mrs. Chaska began to fit out Sammy. She went to a swell tailor and had three suits of clothes made for him, one of which is a full dress suit. Then she bought him a gold watch and chain. The watch was a horse timer. Even then she was not satisfied, and she further adorned her redskin with a hug diamond ring and stud. Then the heart of Cora seemed happy, but her purse was empty. I don’t believe they had $500 when they got back home. What in the world they will do with all their diamonds and finery on the reservation is more than I can imagine.”

The New York Times, Oct 6, 1888


Chaska and Cora Belle are Dad and Mam.

FORT BENNETT, Dec. 25 — Mrs Chaska, nee Cora Belle Fellows, the society belle from Washington who created a sensation by marrying the Indian chief Chaska, of Cheyenne agency, is now a mother. On the 23d inst., at 12 o’clock m., a son was born, and mother and child are doing well. Since their return from the east the couple have resided at Swift Bird’s camp, and came to Fort Bennett a week ago to obtain the services of a Caucasian accoucheur. Chaska and his wife have lived beyond their means during the past year, spending hundreds of dollars in traveling, purchasing the finest clothing and squandering thousands in farming implements and horses and carriages. The farming implements are useless, as Chaska has no talents for farming, and prefers to take it easy as long as he possibly can.

Daily Huronite (Huron, South Dakota) Dec 26, 1888


Cora Belle Chaska wants a divorce from her Indian husband, so soon.

Daily Huronite (Huron, South Dakota) Jun 24, 1891


A Yankton dispatch announces the end of a romance as follows: Mrs. Chaska, nee Cora Bell Fellows, who was married at Cheyenne River agency three years ago to a Santee Sioux named Chaska, or Samuel Campbell, found life with her dusky spouse unbearable and is now living apart from him in a small town in southern Nebraska. Several months ago Chaska suddenly disappeared, and it was discovered that he had eloped with a young and buxom squaw. Mrs. Chaska, after waiting for his return for weeks, left the reservation with her half-breed children, vowing she would never live with Chaska again. Two weeks after she left Chaska returned to the agency, and is now living there with the woman who accompanied him in his elopement. He is happy and wants no more to do with his white wife.

Daily Huronite (Huron, South Dakota) Feb 21, 1894

News a Year Old.
YANKTON, S.D., Feb. 22. — The story telegraphed from here about the desertion of his white wife by the Indian Chaska is an old one, the desertion having occurred a year ago.

Daily Huronite (Huron, South Dakota) Feb 22, 1894


A Romance Set Forth in Something Worse Than Blank Verse.

When Cora Belle Fellows was wedded to Chaska and came with her dusky liege? lord to Nebraska the skies seemed bedecked with a constant aurora and the little log hut seemed a palace to Cora. Months passed and a cloud grew above the horizon in the form of a squaw, and those women are “pizen.” Her eyes were as dark as the dismal hereafter and her hair was as straight as a 2×6 rafter.
The stout heart of Chaska succumbed to her graces, for an Indian knows what an elegant face is; and they met when the moon the calm atmosphere mellows, nor cared for the heartache of Cora Belle Fellows.
One night when the storm king? the coal scuttle looted this Chaska put on his red blanket and scooted away to the north with this maiden, nor tarried till he and fair Minnekadinetum were married. And Cora she waited and bore his abuses and hoped he’d return to his wife and papooses, but weeks rolled by till the looks of her cubbard reminded her sorely of Old Mother Hubbard.
Then Cora disheartened, disgusted and gaunted, deserted the home that her Chaska once haunted and mingled once more with her friends, broken hearted and Cora and Chaska forever are parted.
A moral this tale bears to gals who, through folly or strange love of romance, imagine it jolly to cast their sad lot with the sons of the wildwood and seek a divorce from the friends of their childhood. This romance is short as in this case related, for Cora now knows she was sadly mismated, and has, with the rest, the unahappy reflection of duty to half-breeds that need her protection.
The question of Indian civilization involves not the horrors of mixed procreation. An Indian has to be dead to be decent, which fact has been known a long time — is not recent — and history shows, from the best observations, that half-breeds are worse than their tribal relations.
I weep for poor Cora and both her papooses; I shudder to think what a gosling a goose is; I feel indignation that Chaska should leave her and skip with another and basely deceive her. and think that the law should receive a few patches to shut off these semi-barbarian matches.

Daily Advocate (Newark, Ohio) Apr 23, 1894


This “verse” was written in paragraph form, but I reformatted it to make it easier to read.


Such is the Condition in Which a Huron Lady Found Mrs. Chaska and Children.

When Cora Belle Fellows was wedded to Chaska
and came with her dusky liege? lord to Nebraska
the skies seemed bedecked with a constant aurora
and the little log hut seemed a palace to Cora.

Months passed and a cloud grew above the horizon
in the form of a squaw, and those women are “pizen.”
Her eyes were as dark as the dismal hereafter
and her hair was as straight as a 2×6 rafter.

The stout heart of Chaska succumbed to her graces,
for an Indian knows what an elegant face is;
and they met when the moon the calm atmosphere mellows,
nor cared for the heartache of Cora Belle Fellows.

One night when the storm king? the coal scuttle looted
this Chaska put on his red blanket and scooted
away to the north with this maiden, nor tarried
till he and fair Minnekadinetum were married.

And Cora she waited and bore his abuses
and hoped he’d return to his wife and papooses,
but weeks rolled by till the looks of her cupboard
reminded her sorely of Old Mother Hubbard.

Then Cora disheartened, disgusted and gaunted,
deserted the home that her Chaska once haunted
and mingled once more with her friends, broken hearted
and Cora and Chaska forever are parted.

A moral this tale bears to gals who, through folly
or strange love of romance, imagine it jolly
to cast their sad lot with the sons of the wildwood
and seek a divorce from the friends of their childhood.

This romance is short as in this case related,
for Cora now knows she was sadly mismated,
and has, with the rest, the unhappy reflection
of duty to half-breeds that need her protection.

The question of Indian civilization
involves not the horrors of mixed procreation.
An Indian has to be dead to be decent,
which fact has been known a long time — is not recent —
and history shows, from the best observations,
that half-breeds are worse than their tribal relations.

I weep for poor Cora and both her papooses;
I shudder to think what a gosling a goose is;
I feel indignation that Chaska should leave her
and skip with another and basely deceive her.
and think that the law should receive a few patches
to shut off these semi-barbarian matches.

Daily Huronite (Huron, South Dakota) May 6, 1896


Cora Belle Fellows, whose marriage to Chaska, a Sioux, created a sensation some years ago, has been deserted and left in destitution by her Indian husband. She came of an excellent Washington family, but fell in love with Chaska while teaching on the reservation near Pierre, S. Dak., and married him in spite of the opposition of her family. They acquired a fortune by exhibiting themselves in dime museums throughout the country, but he has squandered all her money and disappeared with a woman of his own race, leaving his wife with four children to support.

Fort Wayne News (Fort Wayne, Indiana) Jul 10, 1896


Sioux Indian Who Married a White Woman Takes His Life

NIOBRARA, Neb., May 3. — Samuel Campbell Chaska committed suicide tonight. Chaska was a full-blooded Sioux Indian. Ten years ago he graduated with high honors at Carlisle and shortly became famous by marrying Cora Belle Fellows of Washington, D.C. Neither the beauty nor wealth of his fashionable society wife, nor his learning, acquired by years of study at Carlisle could eradicate the Sioux traits that generations had left in his blood. In a few years he drifted back to the reservation and sunk to the level of a common blanket Indian again. His wife left him some years ago.

Chaska was in jail at the time of his death charged with stealing horses. This is the first instance in which a fullblooded Sioux ever committed suicide. By marriage the man was related to one of the most prominent families in the east.

The Nebraska State Journal (Lincoln, Nebraska) May 4, 1898


His White Wife Objected to His Relatives — After Separation Came Conviction for Stealing

Chaska, the half breed Sioux Indian, once the husband of the St. Louis girl, Cora Belle Fellows, was placed behind bars in the penitentiary last evening, where he will serve one year for stealing harness. A deep gash across his neck, made four weeks ago in an attempt to cut his throat, was still plainly seen when Chaska went into the penitentiary. The wound has almost healed and promises to give no more trouble. Neither will Chaska make another attempt upon his life, for he says he is sorry he tried to kill himself and he wants to be a good live Indian for many years. The report that he had committed suicide was published throughout the country and believed.

Sheriff A.W. Crandon of Niobara brought Chaska to Lincoln yesterday. They stopped at the Capital hotel where the tall, slender form of the Indian attracted general attention. Chaska is known in Knox county and on the Indian reservation as Sam Campbell. He is thirty-seven years old. His straight, black hair is worn shingled and while there are traces of beard on his face, very little is noticable except on the upper lip. What moustache he possessed was shaved off the day before he started to the prison. Although he was educated at the Indian school at Carlisle he uses very imperfect English. When about to make a statement to attorneys before being brought to prison, he called for an interpreter.

Chaska told the sheriff yesterday evening tht he needed no guard on the way from the city to the prison, because he would not try to escape for a thousand dollars. He was not handcuffed at any time on the way to Lincoln.

Sheriff Crandon gave his prisoner a little advice before he turned him over to the prison authorities. He told Chaska to obey orders and he would get along all right. Chaska said he certainly would, but he was fearful lest he should unwittingly break the rules or say something that would give offense. He was afraid h would not be able to understand the prison rules and as a result get punished.

For stealing harness from another Indian Chaska was convicted of burglary. Judge Robinson sentenced him to serve one year. Chaska is said to have been a partner with others in such business. At any rate he sold the stolen harness at the town of Niobrara for $20. He pleaded guilty and therefore had no trial. He has one brother, Dave Campbell, who is considered a terror, and another, who is very religious.

Chaska was a downcast Indian when in the Knox county jail. Some of his friends told him there were other counts against him and he was sure to get a sentence of about fourteen years. He thought death preferable to so long a term and in his dispair drew an old, dull jack knife across his throat.

When Sheriff Crandon brought Chaska’s breakfast in to him that morning he saw blood on the bunk.

“What have you done, Sam?” asked the sheriff.

“Cut my throat,” was the Indian’s almost inaudible answer.

“Well, here’s your breakfast. I’ll go and get a doctor,” said the sheriff.

In twenty minutes the sheriff returned with a doctor. They found that Chaska had found his breakfast and eaten half a piece of custard pie. The windpipe was partially severed and the sufferer could breathe only by dropping his chin close to his throat. Otherwise the air escaped through the gash instead of going into the lungs.

Chaska has received a great deal of notoriety over his marriage with a white woman, Cora Belle Fellows, who was a teacher in an Indian school. He has been represented as a finely educated lawyer, but those who know of his marriage say he has never followed any business except the show business. Soon after the marriage he and his wife gave exhibitions at Chicago. Chaska appeared in the gorgeous costume of a Sioux warrior. His wife appeared in a beautiful white satin dress. Chaska’s act was to kneel down and make a proposal of marriage and it was the part of the wife to accept gracefully the noble red man. For four years the couple travelled with Buffalo Bill’s Wild West show.

There was only one thing that marred the pleasure of their domestic life. Chaska afterwards told about it. Mrs. Chaska got along pretty well with her husband, but she objected to the single file of big red bucks and squaws that seemed to be continually pigeontoeing to their house to visit, each one claiming to be a dear relative of Chaska. She drew the line at his relatives and then the divorce followed. It is reported that Mrs. Chaska is now in Missouri with her three Indian children and is taking in washing for a living. Since her departure from the scene Chaska has been living with a black, cross-eyeed squaw. They now have one child. When Chaska was about to be taken from the county jail to Lincoln the squaw visited him in his cell. She sat in the jail several hours without speaking to anyone, but in the cell she conversed with Chaska in their native tongue.

The Nebraska State Journal (Lincoln, Nebraska) Jun 1, 1898

Corabelle Fellows Campbell Tillman and Family 1900

Corabelle Fellows Campbell Tillman and Family 1900

Corabelle Fellows married George Tillman about 1896. They had a daughter together, named Corabelle Tillman and were living in Jasper County, Missouri in 1900. Chaska and Corabelle’s children were living with them and are listed as step-children, under the name of Campbell.


Girl Teacher Is Heroine Of Indian Book
Blue Star, By Kunigunde Duncan (told from the life of Corabelle Fellows).
Caldwell, Idaho; The Caxton Printers. pp. 221. $2.50

Out of the crowded Washington drawing rooms of the eighties ventrued a frightened young girl still in her ‘teens to teach the Sioux Indians in the wind-swept Dakotas. Small, delicate, and used to the niceties of life, Corabelle Fellows remained at her post while other women teachers fled from Indian scares, the cold, and privations. The girl had an indomitable spirit, combined with real sympathy for the red people to whom she was offering the first taste of the white man’s knowledge. And the Indians, who valued above all things a brave heart gave her an affectionate title — Blue Star. Personalities like hers are fast disappearing as the frontiers of the west become past history.

In the days when the Dakotas were still a territory, and the far reaches of the prairies practically untouched by the encroaching white man, the Sioux Indians were still a primitive people, close to their age-old superstitions and customs. To Corabelle Fellows were disclosed the ways of Indian life that were kept secret to others — habits and usages that have since been changed by the years of white-man dominance. In her story Blue Star brings alive these early days — a fading picture that only the old-timers can give to our civilized day.

“Blue Star” in itself may not be amazingly significant, but it is one of Caxton’s western books which have proved to be invaluable mines of source material for the sociologish, historian, and novelist. — J.A.T.

Ogden Standard Examiner (Ogden, Utah) Nov 6, 1938


Blind now and in her 70s Corabelle Fellows was a young girl of 18 when she left Washington society to teach the Sioux Indians in the Dakotas. The story of her childhood in the east and her stunning adventures in the west until her marriage have been told by her to Kunigunde Duncan to make the absoribing book. Blue Star (Caxton $2.50). Miss Fellows courage wond the Indians’ trust and customs usually kept secret from the white man were revealed to her. The sense of humor that carried her through hardship sets the tone of the book. Here is a fascinating reading for the teen-age girl (12 -16 year)

It would be well if every home with children could have one. good.

The Zanesville Signal (Zanesville, Ohio) Mar 13, 1939

“Blue Star” by Kunigunde Duncan can be purchased on Amazon.


Biographical note:
Flora (Kunigunde Duncan) Isely, b. 1886, wrote and published a great deal of poetry during the early 1900s and later wrote a number of books. She graduated from Wichita High School in 1904 where she later taught three years. In 1911 she married author Bliss Isely, and during most of their married lived on a farm near El Dorado, Kansas. They had three sons, Malcolm, Kenneth and David, who died in childhood. In 1938 she published the book Blue Star, a book based on the life of Corabelle Fellows Campbell Tillman, and during the 1940s she co-authored a book with D.F. Nichols on Mentor Graham. She wrote a number of articles dealing with the Dust Bowl and Wichita history for local and national newspapers. Her books include a book of poems, The Land of the Little Boys, and Mentor Graham: The Man Who Taught Lincoln (1944).

From the Wichita State University Library

Read an overview of the Cheyenne River Tribe HERE.

UPDATE: Just a quick update due to some questions posed by Claire in the comments. I clipped a few bits of  the intro, plus a picture of Corabelle as a girl, from the preview of Blue Star: The Story of Corabelle Fellows –  By Kunigunde Duncan (Preview link)

This last piece should answer your question about Claude Campbell, the oldest son:

How sad!!!

Claire, you could always check the library for this book if you want to see if Wilbur ever had children, but based on the census records, I kind of doubt he did.