Chief Pokagon’s Love Story

Chief Pokagon’s Love Story

Leopold Pokagon by Van Sanden. ca 1850s from the Indiana Center for History.

Daniel McDonald was a historian who was born in Plymouth, Indiana and lived from 1833 to 1916. His writing reflects his ideas and may contain language common in 19th century writing that may not reflect modern standards. The article has been lightly edited for clarity.

The story is told in Daniel McDonald’s 1881 "History of Marshall County"

Simon Pokagon was born at what was known as Pokagon village, on the Pottawattomie lands in Indiana in 1830.  He was sent to Notre Dame University, where he graduated with honors.  He wrote many articles on the Pottawattomies and also gave lectures.  He died on January 25, 1809.

A short time before his death he wrote the story of his courtship and marriage to Lonidaw, a fair Pottawattomie maiden.  The great charm of the story, “O-gi-maw-kwe Mit-i-gwa-ki, Queen of the Woods,” lies in the simplicity with which the lover pours forth the passion of his heart.  It is the beautiful legend of the princely Hiawatha and the fair Minehaha in real life.

Pokagon begins his story by telling how he chanced to meet the shy and winsome Lonidaw and how he sought her favor, doubting and hoping in turn, until she graciously smiled on him.  Then he was forced to be absent from her for several months.

Pokagon with a lover’s enthusiasm paints the scene in the morning when he returned: on the journey to Lonidaw’s wigwam the sun though yet unseen had painted the eastern sky a brilliant red.  High in the air were multitudes of wild pigeons, sweeping the heavens as far as the eye could reach and moving in a line, like columns of trained soldiers, southward to procure their morning meal.  All the twigs and branches of the grand old forest were thickly fringed with needled frost, forming a silvery screen through which the sunshine was sprinkled down, shedding the glory in the tree tops, on the ground, filling my youthful soul with love for the Divine. 

Stillness reigned almost supreme along the trail I passed, only broken now and then by the woodpecker beating his chiseled bill into some decaying wood in search of food, or some partridge on a prostrate tree sounding his rolling drum to entertain his lady love of early spring.  I paused and listened to his oft repeated drumbeats of love, poured forth in military style, and to myself I said:  Happy lover, no doubts disturb thy trusting heart, which fear and sore distrust are warring in my soul.

I reached the wigwam of my bride to be.  All was quiet as the morning air.  My fluttering heart was all the sound I heard, that like a bird in a cage beat the bars that held it fast.  While standing before the door a strange feeling held me there in bonds which none but a doubtful lover can ever know and which no language can express. 

While there I stood Lonidaw opened wide the door, bidding me come in.  The chilling gloom of yesterday had left no impress on her face, but instead the fondest smiles of maidenhood were plainly written there.  Then well I knew those smiles so sweet were all for me alone.

With mutual hearts we clasped each other and sealed again the marriage vow with concert kisses, imparting a thrill of joy that only they who truly love can ever feel and fully understand.

The wedding followed, a description of which is given by the bridegroom himself:

When the moon of flowers and bloom came, and mating birds were moving northward and wild flowers were blooming and the trees were putting on their robes of green, I took the hand of my dear beloved Lonidaw and she became my bride.  No wedding cards were passed around, no gifts were made, no bells were rung, no feast was given, no priest declared us one.  We only pledged our sincere faith before her mother and the King of Heaven.  Our hope, our joys were one.  Hand in hand along an ancient trail we took our course until we reached a land of game.  Here we paused and like two mated birds that search and find a place to build their nest of mud and straw, so we, beside an inland lake where towering woods embrowed its shore and flags, rushes and wild rice in plenty could be found, built our wigwam home of poles and bark.  There oft at dawn and eventide we fished from our birch canoe, and that she would have more success than I, ofttimes I would bait well her hook and let my own go bare, then wonder why she caught more fish than I.

Oft, returning from the chase, weary and tired of carrying game, I’d follow down the trail upon a narrow neck of land that ran into the open shore, and I never failed to see Lonidaw’s erect and slender form on hasty run.  No swan ever faster swam or more elegantly appeared than she when bending to the oars, pushing her birch canoe across the swelling bosom of the lake.  As she would approach me while waiting on the shore I always hailed her “queen of the woods.”  On our return across the lake she would cling to the oars and have me steer.  I always felt her image in my heart and loved to see it in the lake and oft would ask her if her feelings were akin to mine.  Her only answer was an approving glance and downcast smile.  Thus happy in each other’s love we floated down life’s stream.

Phone: 574.936.2306

Learn more about the history of the Potawatomi people in Marshall County in our Historic Crossroads Center exhibit. We are open Tuesday through Saturday from 10:00 AM until 4:00 PM. The Museum is located at 123 N. Michigan St. in Plymouth. Call us at 574-936-2306.

One Boy’s Adventure with Tobacco

One Boy’s Adventure with Tobacco

Broken fence, image by Jesse Steele, undated.

The following article is taken from “A Twentieth Century History of Marshall County,” written by Daniel McDonald, published in 1908. Copies of this book are available at the MCHS & Museum. I have only lightly edited it.

“In the early days of Marshall County every farmer who used tobacco, and some who did not, raised a small patch every year as regularly as they did lettuce and onions and beets and cabbage and other garden truck. At that time there was very little of what was called “Boughten tobacco” to be had, and what there was, was known as “Kentucky pig-tail.” It was soaked in licorice, was as black as tar, and was altogether villainous stuff. Some of the tobacco raised here then was of fairly good quality, and after having the habit of using it firmly fixed it answered the purpose, and was as good – or more properly, bad – as much of the imported stuff in use nowadays.

It was a dreadful ordeal one had to go through with to accustom himself to the use of tobacco, and it was equally hard to rid himself of the habit after it had been acquired.

The writer remembers vividly as if it was only yesterday his first effort at learning to chew tobacco. It was the home grown weed. Nearly every boy in those days deemed it necessary to use tobacco. The boy who couldn’t chew the stuff and squirt the “ambier” – to use a word coined for the purpose – didn’t amount to a —–!

It was on a summer day. He was resting from the day’s labor in a fence corner in the shade of a tree when the man who was with him asked him to take a chew of tobacco. He concluded it was as good a time as any to begin and bit off a large mouthful and went at it. For a time, all went well, but presently a sickly feeling came over him, and it was not long until he heaved up Jonah to beat the band! Sick! Well! Don’t talk! A sicker child you never saw! He parted with everything from the top of his head to the soles of his feet! He saw all the stars in the heavens above; the aurora borealis quivering in the northern hemisphere and felt several distinct shocks of earthquake! Finally, he managed to get to the house, where his mother almost went beside herself, being sure he had the cholera! The true state of affairs was divulged, and after sassafras and sage tea had been administered and the proper antidotes applied, life began to return, and by the next morning he had fully recovered.

The reader may think that this experience ended his efforts to learn to use the filthy stuff! Not so! The neighboring boys had mastered the art and were squirting tobacco juice with as much gusto as the biggest man in the neighborhood! So, he determined to learn to chew tobacco or die in the attempt. And he did, and after a while the habit became so firmly fixed on his system that when he wanted to quit it he found it was almost impossible to do so. He determined, however, not to be a slave to tobacco or anything else, and long ago quit it entirely, forever and a day.”

The MCHS and Museum is a true “cabinet of curiosities,” containing loads of fascinating artifacts and information. We are open from 10:00 am until 4:00 pm, Tuesday through Saturday. The Museum is located at 123 N. Michigan St. in Plymouth. Call us at 574-936-2306 or visit our website at www.mchistoricalsociety.org.

High School Construction Disasters

High School Construction Disasters

Inwood Schoolhouse south side view, undated.

People have been promoting education in Marshall County almost as long as the county has existed, going from just a few students in isolated one-room schoolhouses, to our current large, modern buildings. The path has not always been smooth. In addition to the varying attitudes and opinions of the taxpayers over the years, accidents and natural disasters have had their impact as well. Following are a few examples. Excerpts have been lightly edited.

Inwood Schoolhouse Tragedy

The Town of Inwood’s school building apparently needed a new roof before the start of the 1911 school year, but the effort ended tragically. The August 31 edition of The Weekly Republican newspaper covered the accident.

“Hueston C. Kramer, the Plymouth tinner, was perhaps fatally injured at about 1:45 Monday by falling from the roof of the public schoolhouse at Inwood. Mr. Kramer was at work putting a tin roof on the building when in some way he fell to the ground, a distance of two full stories, landing on his head on the cement sidewalk below. He sustained a broken shoulder blade and severe injuries about the face and head. It is thought that he can live but a short time at the best.

No one witnessed the accident, but Doctors Kaszer and Loring were immediately summoned. The injured man was carried into the basement of the building and everything possible was done for him. He has remained in an unconscious condition since the time of the accident.”

The 28-year-old Kramer died three hours later.

Bourbon Township Consolidated School Corp.

In 1928 the Bourbon Township Consolidated School Corporation built a new addition to their existing building. The work started in October and was slated to be completed by spring of 1929. Students were dismissed for Christmas break on December 21, and seven days later the building, including the new addition, went up in flames. In the process, the school learned a very expensive lesson. According to the Bourbon High School Chronicle 1884 – 1963,

“The building was a total loss of $125,000, with only $50,000 in insurance. The fire was discovered about 1:15 a.m. by Ernest Hurford. He hurried back to town and turned in the alarm to the Bourbon Fire Company. Help was immediately called from Plymouth and Warsaw.

“The blaze started on the upper floor in the room of the Latin teacher. It was thought it might have started with the electric wiring. The flames spread rapidly through the center of the building and to the south end…. At 4:00 a.m. the water supply failed. The town pumps filling the standpipe could not supply water at the same rate as it was being used on the fire and the firemen had to wait until it was replenished. By dawn the fire had gutted the building.”

Argos Builds A New School

The wave of school consolidations in the 1950s led to the need for a new school building in the town of Argos. Incoming students from Green and Walnut townships quickly rendered the Argos K-12 building too small, so in 1957 construction began on a new school. As work was progressing on the gymnasium, 23 steel support trusses suddenly collapsed, injuring three workmen.

The Culver Citizen of June 12, 1957, described the event. “The heavy girders collapsed in chain reaction fashion at the site of the construction of a $1,000,000 school and gymnasium of the recently organized Argos Community School.

“One of the injured workmen, Robert Treber, 31 years old, Argos, is in fair condition…. He suffered several fractured ribs and facial and arm cuts. The others injured, Antal Marton, 35, Culver, and John Brewer, 31, Argos, were treated for minor injuries and released.”

An investigator sent in to determine the cause of the collapse concluded that one of the girders had been dropped and sustained some damage, but was installed anyway, and an attempt to straighten it in place had been made. It was also noted that the joists were curving away from the starting end, some bracing clips were broken at the welds and one of the wires connecting the first joist to the end of the column failed. It could have been much worse than it was.

Laville Junior-Senior High School & Palm Sunday

And sometimes no amount of human intervention can stop a disaster. The new Laville Junior-Senior High School was still under construction in April 1965 when the Palm Sunday tornados struck Marshall and St. Joseph counties. The April 12 South Bend Tribune reported, “…the north wall of the gymnasium was badly damaged, and some damage was also done to an east wall. Building material was scattered throughout the area.” Regardless of the setback, the new consolidated school opened on time.

The MCHS staff is hard at work on an upcoming exhibit highlighting the public high school buildings of Marshall County. Details will be coming soon. The Museum is open Tuesday through Saturday from 10 a.m. – 4 p.m. at 123 N. Michigan St. Call us at 574-936-2306 for more information.

The Bloomer Costume

The Bloomer Costume

Ehrhart, S. D. (1895) The bicycle – the great dress reformer of the nineteenth century! / Ehrhart. , 1895. N.Y.: Published by Keppler & Schwarzmann, August 7. [Photograph] Retrieved from the Library of Congress, https://www.loc.gov/item/2012648650/.

This article is taken directly from “A Twentieth Century History of Marshall County,” written by Daniel McDonald. Although McDonald is adept at expressing himself, I have edited lightly. Here he takes on a contemporary fashion craze – bloomer suits. Bloomers were known as “Turkish Pants,” hence the editorial rant below.

All About Bloomers by Daniel McDonald

The bloomer costume for ladies, which created much excitement throughout America during 1851, was just then being introduced in Plymouth. On this topic, the editor of The Pilot delivered himself as follows:

“New Dress – The bloomer costume is decidedly an improvement upon the dress of the female portion of the community. It is light, graceful and seraphic, well suited to the female figure. It will be welcomed by all the lovers of taste and refinement in the fashionable world. The Asian societies have long been celebrated for their beauty, polished manners and splendid attire. Our rivers will now be the Golden Horn; our valleys the Valley of Sweet Waters and our Seas the Bosphorus of the Turkish capital. A voyage to Constantinople will be useless. We may now take our siesta in the gay pavilion, and glide over the moonlit waters in the light caique (skiff)! Come ladies, step forth in your gorgeous apparel, decked with rose of gold and leaves of silver, and gladden our hearts with sweet smiles.”

 

The Bloomer Costume, Nathaniel Currier (1851)

Evidently, this was a facetious way the editor had of poking fun at the “costume” and killing it before the fad got a fair start here. At any rate, that was perhaps the result of it. Apparently, only one or two Plymouth ladies had the courage to procure bloomer suits and attempt to introduce them by wearing them as they would other female apparel. When they appeared in the streets, it was reported that they were objects of much curiosity—as if they had been untamed animals from Borneo. There is no easier way to kill anything that the people do not take very kindly to than to make fun of it, just as the editor of The Pilot did in his hifalutin article above quoted. At least that was what happened to the bloomer costume. McDonald might say, “It disappeared from the social horizon like the morning mist before the rays of the rising sun.”

Suffice it to say, ladies’ apparel has come a long, long way. If you want more commentary on life in Marshall County in the 1800s, McDonald’s book is for sale in our Museum Shop. Stop in anytime between 10 and 4 on Tuesday through Saturday and pick up your copy. The Museum is located at 123 N. Michigan St. in Plymouth. Call us at 574-936-2306.

Fun Facts about Valentine’s Day

Fun Facts about Valentine’s Day

Feature Image. An assortment of Valentine’s cards from the Museum collection.

The iconic cupid of Valentines Day, with a cherubic face and angelic wings, began as the Greek god, Eros. He was the son of Aphrodite, the goddess of love and procreation. Cupid is known to shoot two types of arrows, one to cause people to fall in love, and one to make them hate each other. We’ve compiled some fun and interesting Valentine’s Day info from the web!

Food Is the Way to the Heart

Candy hearts began with a Boston pharmacist Oliver Chase. He invented a machine that produced small medical lozenges for the throat. When he saw how popular they were, he turned them into candy with cute messages on them.

Of course, chocolate is a huge part of Valentine’s Day now, but it has a sad beginning. Physicians in the old days would recommend chocolate to people suffering from a broken heart or pining for a lost love. It was Richard Cadbury, a British chocolatier, who invented the first chocolate box. Always the businessman, he realized that he could capitalize on Valentine’s Day by producing chocolate boxes and marketing them as something to be given to your sweetheart.

Valentine’s Day is not celebrated the same way all over the world. In Japan for instance, on February 14th, women give gifts and chocolates to their male companions. The men don’t reciprocate until March 14, which is known as “White Day.” On Valentine’s Day in England, women used to place five bay leaves on their pillows. This was done with an aim to bring dreams of their future husbands. In Norfolk, England, Jack Valentine acts as a Santa for Valentine’s Day. Children anxiously wait for the treats, though they don’t get to see Old Father Valentine. In many places, Valentine’s Day is also celebrated as the beginning of spring.

People Associated with Valentine's Day

Venus, the goddess of love, adored red roses, making them a perfect symbol to express love for another person. To the Victorians, the deeper the rose color, the deeper the passion. A white rose would have been appropriate for a young girl or woman who had not felt passionate love. In a contradiction, the white rose symbolized soul-deep love and marriage. White roses are often referred to as “bridal roses.”

Saint Valentine, for whom the holiday is named, defied the emperor Claudius of Rome. Marriage was outlawed because the emperor believed single men made better soldiers. Saint Valentine performed weddings in secret in defiance of the unfair law. Pope Gelasius later declared the Valentine’s Day holiday in 498 A.D.

Another fun fact. Penicillin, the world’s first antibiotic and one of the greatest scientific discoveries, was introduced to the world on Valentine’s Day. Alexander Fleming was the Scottish physician-scientist who was recognized for discovering penicillin. The simple discovery and use of the antibiotic agent has saved millions of lives and earned Fleming – together with Howard Florey and Ernst Chain, who devised methods for the large-scale isolation and production of penicillin – the 1945 Nobel Prize in Physiology/Medicine.

Sharing Love Notes

In one ironic twist, Alexander Graham Bell applied for the patent to the telephone on February 14th, 1876, never imagining that it would become the biggest medium for sending Valentine’s Day greetings almost 150 years later.

As for sending cards, Valentine’s Day is second only to Christmas in the number of cards sent around the world. Today, most cards are mass-produced and generally the selection is pretty sparce by the 14th. Artist Esther Howland was one of the first American printers to start producing Valentine’s Day cards beginning in the 1850s. Ornate cards trimmed with lace became treasured mementos, but why lace? Lace is commonly used in making bouquets of roses and in other items during Valentine’s Day. The word ‘lace’ comes from the Latin word ‘laques’ which means to snare or trap a person’s heart. Isn’t that fitting?

We sign our valentines with Xs and Os to send kisses and hugs. This is not the letter X’s original purpose. In medieval times, most people could not read or write. If a need arose to sign their name, most would simple mark an X. To show affection and loyalty, the writer would kiss the X on the paper before sending.

The often-heard term “wear your heart on your sleeve” began with an old custom. People would pick a name out of a bowl to see who their valentine would be. They would then pin the paper to their sleeve for everyone to see.

The oldest known valentine still in existence today is perhaps a poem written in 1415 by Charles, Duke of Orleans, to his wife while he was imprisoned in the Tower of London following his capture at the Battle of Agincourt. A lot of his poetry was not so cheerful as he wasn’t released until 1440, and the poem below was written after his wife died.

Let men and women of Love’s party
Choose their St. Valentine this year!
I remain alone, comfort stolen from me
On the hard bed of painful thought.

Lyda Seghetti and Ray Taber leaning agaist tree, ca. 1940. Featured in Plymouth Remembered, page 80.

The Museum is home to a large selection of antique and vintage valentines, although not currently on display. You can still come see our treasures, perhaps as a lovely museum date! The Museum is open from 10 until 4 from Tuesday through Saturday at 123 N. Michigan St., Plymouth. For more information, call 574-936-2306.

A History of Extreme Weather

A History of Extreme Weather

Indiana has had some really memorable winter seasons, but in 1816, everything went haywire. Snow in June destroyed all of the crops, it was bitterly cold on the 4thof July, and blizzards struck in August! How could that happen? The dust from Mount Tambora, which erupted in early April 1815, had covered the entire globe. With all of that volcanic dust in the upper atmosphere, the sun was blocked and that created a weather phenomenon that led to food shortages all over the world.

The fast forward about a hundred years. On January 11, 1918, Marshall County was hit with a blizzard that created travel mayhem for weeks afterward. The following is an excerpt from The Argos Reflector on January 31, 1918: “Since the big blizzard on Friday, January 11th, undertaker O.L. Grossman has had to use the bob-sleds for all funerals. January 8th was the last time that he was able to use the hearse. The north and south road to the Maple Grove Cemetery has a drift about six feet deep, the full width of the road. The rural mail carriers have been able to make only a part of their trips during the past week or more. Saturday was a hard day to get through and after another snow and heavy wind on Sunday, they decided not to try to deliver on Monday morning.  John Leland brought W.D. Corley and family to town Sunday to attend the funeral of J.S. Wickizer. They started quite early in the morning and did not arrive until about noon. It was a five-mile drive.”

The coldest day in Indiana was recorded on January 19, 1994, in New Whiteland, just south of Indianapolis– a minus 36 degrees, not including wind chill. Just for the record, an easy way to calculate wind chill is if it’s minus 5 degrees outside and the wind is blowing at 25 mph, the wind chill is minus 30 degrees.

Who remembers the winter of 1977-78? It all started on December 29, 1977. Then temperatures started dropping, and Indiana would have 34 days of below freezing temperatures. That figures out to 880 consecutive hours of cold, brrr. The arctic temperatures lasted long enough to usher in the “great blizzard of 1978.”

The first ever Blizzard Warning for the entire state of Indiana was issued at 3:45 p.m. EST on January 25th, 1978.  A heavy snow warning had been issued 12 hours earlier. Winds would approach 50 mph or more by midnight and continue through the 27th. Temperatures would plummet to a low of zero during the storm with wind chills approaching -50 degrees. Snowfall rates of nearly one half to one inch per hour were not unusual, but the duration of the heavy snow was. Significant snowfall for 30 plus hours, followed by continued cold and high winds, was a serious issue. This hampered recovery and relief efforts, leaving much of Indiana crippled for days. In areas, up to three feet of snow fell. The howling winds would push drifts up to as much as 20-25 feet. Visibilities would remain at or below one quarter mile for 25 hours.

Highways were clogged with stranded motorists. Doctors and emergency personnel were forced to reach people on skis and snowmobiles. The governor sent National Guard tanks onto I-65 to remove stranded semis. Indiana Bell was forced to halt all phone traffic but emergency calls. The governor declared a snow emergency for the entire state on the morning of the 26th. During the afternoon of the 26th, the Indiana State Police considered all Indiana roads closed. Seventy people died during the storm.

Hopefully, the winter of 2025-26 will spare us!