Nancy McClure: My Early Life

Chapter One

 

I’ve always wanted to see pieces of my story collected since I never wanted a life that no one cares to remember.  I lived in turbulent times, and the fact we survived is significant itself.  One period in my life culminated in watching thirty-eight men hanged in unison on a large gallows built for that purpose.  But let me come back to that.

Through my veins runs an equal mix of Dakota Indian and Irish blood, the product of my father Lt. James McClure and my mother Winona.  My Indian name is also Winona which among the Sioux means the first-born female child and is as common a name among the Indians as Mary is among the white people.

After my father left us, Mother married again and like all Dakota mothers taught me traditional ways which I acquired hand in hand with many of the white women’s domestic skills from the mission schools I attended. Unfortunately, she died when I was just fourteen years old, and since I was too young to be on my own I went to live with my grandmother.  I had matured fast and probably became a little vain because people said I was good looking.  Maybe they were right since I seemed to attract plenty of male attention.  

Then David Faribault entered my life and, too soon, wanted me to marry him.  I didn’t want to jump into marriage, something my relatives agreed with.  A powerful man, however, came to David’s side and acted as a matchmaker.  General Sibley took me aside saying David came from a good family and always made enough money to support a wife and family.  Yes, I guess you could say I had connections, but it was through David, since he and Sibley knew each other well from their business dealings.  This is the same General Sibley who led the huge march of soldiers into Dakota Territory on a “punitive expedition” after the uprising of which I shall soon tell you about. 

I’ll have to guess this sketch of me represents my appearance quite well.  A man name Mr. Mayer drew it on the day I was married and in his diary said this about me: “On a mattress covered by a neat quilt sat Winona, the most beautiful of the Indian women I have yet seen.  She possesses Indian features softened into the more delicate contour of the Caucasian & her figure is tall, slender & gracefully girlish.  Her eyes are dark & deep, a sweet smile of innocence plays on her ruby lips, & silky hair of glossy blackness falls to her drooping shoulders.”  I said before that I’m a bit vain, but that quote embarrasses me.

Our wedding ceremony drew quite an assembly, I’m proud to say.  But again, it was because of my new husband’s acquaintanceship with them.  Most notable were Governor Ramsey and General Sibley, plus several army officers and head chiefs of the Sioux nation.  At the reception, many toasts were made with champagne and wine glasses held high, but I didn’t drink in response.  I am a devout Presbyterian and a teetotaler who refuses alcohol for any reason.

Most of you have heard of the Minnesota Uprising of 1862, well, I can tell you, I experienced it from the inside out.  The next chapter of my life will paint the picture of a very unpleasant time.