Hard Times in the Old Days

We will attend the 48th annual international convention of the Germans from Russia Heritage Society in Pierre, SD. Accurately termed international in scope, several members from foreign countries travel to these gatherings to share and learn. While some of the information presented deals with the harsh treatment and conditions that forced immigration to this country, some of it features music, success stories, research help, food, and good times.  

I always come away feeling fortunate to live at the present time. My wife delves into ancestral research quite deeply. Her genetic makeup totals 100% German from Russia ancestry, but mine, not so much, 25%. They do let me in the door, though, to participate. She spends a lot of time when at home digging into old relatives’ history. I spend much of my time reading and writing about other topics, lately that of the early history of Ransom County, the area where I was born and raised. 

One of the stories has more than likely never been associated with this history: the Wounded Knee Massacre. However, far removed it is, I still felt surprise over the connection. Let me take it back to the time when Fort Abercrombie provided the source of supply for the newly constructed Fort Ransom, 1867. Freight traveled by wagon pulled by oxen. With the aid of a modern research tool, Google told me the distance is 80 miles taking one hour and 23 minutes to travel. Of course, that route follows paved roadways. As the crow flies, it’s less, probably about 45 miles. One hundred and fifty one years ago, slow-plodding oxen could not travel that distance in one day. 

Pigeon Point was established midway for travelers to overnight at a Sheyenne River ford. Its resident managers were a couple named David Faribault and his Indian wife Nancy McClure, also called by her Indian name Winona. After she separated from Faribault, she took her daughter Mary Jane and moved to Faribault, SD to be with her new husband Charles Huggan. The daughter Mary Jane Faribault married the Reverend John Eastman, an early ordained Presbyterian minister. 

Now we’ve arrived at the crux of this article. Reverend John’s brother was Dr. Charles Eastman who was stationed at Pine Ridge during the Wounded Knee Massacre. He was maybe not the first American Indian medical doctor, but one of the first. The story of his actions in treating the wounded urges the reader onward. The Indians wanted their lands back and a religious leader and prophet told them that performing the Ghost Dance would rid the land of the whites. The army feared this gathering and thought it could develop into something endangering them. On the morning of December 29, 1890, the army moved into the Indian camp to disarm them. It is thought the accidental discharge of a rifle caused the shooting to commence. Dozens were killed, many others wounded, including over 30 soldiers. Given the circumstances, the soldiers were tended first and taken to available hospital beds at the fort. The Indians were left to lie in the open until rescuers came around to carry them in. With the medical beds occupied by wounded soldiers, the Indians had no place for Dr. Eastman to administer medical treatment except for the Episcopal chapel which became the infirmary. To make room for them, workers removed the pews and covered the floor with hay to use as bedding which somewhat softened their pain and sealed drafts from below. 

Well-educated as he was, Eastman went on to write several books, some of which described the aftermath of the battle scene which he toured and helped bury frozen bodies. This quote of his can make a reader wince: “It was a terrible and horrible sight, to see women and children lying in groups, dead… Some of the young girls wrapped their heads with shawls and buried their faces in their hands. I suppose they did that so that they would not see the soldiers come up to shoot them.” 

The very last paragraph Dee Brown wrote in his famous book Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee states: “It was the fourth day after Christmas in the Year of Our Lord 1890. When the first torn and bleeding bodies were carried into the candlelit church, those who were conscious could see the Christmas greenery hanging from the open rafters. Across the chancel front above the pulpit was strung a crudely lettered banner: PEACE ON EARTH, GOOD WILL TO MEN.” 

Some can argue this article is a long distance from the subject of Pigeon Point, but it illustrates how the webs of history are interwoven. Noticing the connection, it was an interesting thread to follow.