We went to visit the
Museum of History and Industry (MOHAI) on Monday (Martin Luther King Jr. Holiday). I am looking forward to returning and spending time lingering with the history preserved there.
There was one painting I recognized of
The Battle of Seattle on display. I had seen it before as a black and white - I had looked around for more images of various Seattle events after reading
"Four Wagons West - the Story of Seattle" written by Roberta Frye Watt in 1931. She is the daughter of Louisa Denny Frye who was a pioneer child in the Wagon train out of Illinois to Seattle. (Louisa's parents are
Arthur Armstrong Denny (1822 - 1899) and
Mary Ann Boren Denny (1822 - 1910) )
I snapped a quick photo of it but my family was moving pretty quickly in this part of the museum. It was painted by Emily "Inez" Denny, Roberta's older cousin.
I wish I had noticed next to it was more information about the
Battle of Seattle that is now obvious to me as I look to the left of the painting in my photo.
This week I reread
The Battle of Seattle chapter again and learned today marks the 157th anniversary of this historic event. History is often awkward. I'm appreciative that Seattle grew to what it is today. But it wasn't without a history that can make you cringe. I'm including extensive excerpts of Mrs. Watt's chapter on the subject. All text is hers except for
text in yellow to clarify information.
Four Wagon's West - The Story of Seattle Roberta Frye Watt 1931
“The Battle of Seattle” Chapter 14 pages 227-241
Excerpts (a LOT of excerpts – all copyrights gratefully acknowledged)
“The weather that winter of ’55 was ironically beautiful.
The settlers remembered afterward the lingering Indian summer days; the soft,
warm rains that kept things green. David Denny remembered how they worked on
the blockhouse in their shirt sleeves. Just before Christmas Mrs. Blaine wrote,
“our little peach and apple trees are not stripped of their leaves yet.
“How this good weather mocked the farmers who had been
obliged to come into the village and leave their farms to the Indians. How
powerless they felt to be gathered in Seattle, waiting --- waiting for the
forest to give up its secret.
. . . . .
“It was a dark Christmas for Seattle and for the whole
Territory. Of the gloom of those weeks Professor Meany writes:
‘The
year 1855, as it drew to a close, saw the Territory of Washington enshrouded in
gloom. It was not known how many Indians had suffered. They always managed to
conceal their dead and rescue their wounded. But it was known that a
considerable number of white people had lost their lives, many others had lost
their homes. The survivors collected into blockhouse for mutual protection. The
Indians gave continuous evidence of their presence. . . . Good was growing
scarce – ordinary business was out of the question – starvation, flight, or the
tomahawk seemed the only alternatives.’
. . . .
“The suspense and ominous quiet in the village increased as
the days passed. Where was Leschi? What move was he planning to make? Would the
deep snows in the passes keep the warlike Owhi from crossing with his fierce
Yakimas? Some pioneers felt confident that with the Decatur (sloop stationed in the Puget Sound
harbor for protection - pictured in the Sound in the above painting) and their own armed volunteers they were well
protected; others were afraid they would be overwhelmed by the greater number
of the enemy.
. . . . .
“In that week preceding the battle rumors of an attack were
brought by friendly Indians, one of whom was Curley. Curley’s loyalty to the
whites has been questioned by many, and undoubtedly the truth of the matter was
that he was friendly to both sides. He would get a little ammunition and
tobacco from Mr. Yesler, whom he knew very well since he had worked in the
mill, and trade it for information which he would in turn bring back to Mr.
Yesler. Indian Jim, whose sincerity was never questioned, also brought news to
the whites; likewise the ‘klootchmen’ and other Indians who had worked in
Yesler’s Mill and were his ‘tillicums.’
. . . . .
“A few days previous he (Captain
Gansevoort of the Decatur) had
sent an Indian scout over to Lake Washington to find out what was going on. The
scout returned on the afternoon of the 25th . . . with the startling
news that one thousand Klikitats had crossed the mountains, and that for two
days the local Indians had been bringing them across the lake in canoes.
The defenses were hurriedly strengthened. The disbanded (as of just the day before) volunteers took up their
guns and were put on watch. Four divisions of soldiers and marines were posted
by Captain Gansevoort to guard the town. . . . .
“The only vessel in the harbor beside the Decatur was a lumber bark, Brontes,
which proved a faithful friend by sheltering some of the women and children.
“ . . . it was first planned
to attack and massacre the settlers at two o’clock in the morning. But in order
to have time to warn the whites, Indian Jim cunningly proposed waiting until
later when the marines would have returned to the Decatur for breakfast after the night watch, leaving the town
unguarded. This plan pleased the council and was decided upon. Curley, who
according to one account, was also present, wanted to spare Mr. Yesler, who had
given many of the Indians work in the mill, but the others insisted that
everyone must be killed.
. . . .
“Early the next morning, January 26, 1856, the Indians crept
in close to the village and lined up along what is now Third Avenue, prepared
to make a sudden attack on the cabins . . . Close as they were, however, the
forest was dense enough to hide them from sight.
"Just at daybreak Indian Jim managed somehow in his native
fashion to elude the others and slip in the back door of Dr. Williamson’s store
with the whispered word that the Indians were upon them. The attack had come.
Word was sent to Yesler at once.
“The night watch had reached the Decatur. The men were just beginning to eat breakfast when a canoe
shot out from land carrying Mr. Yesler. Immediately the roll was sounded and
the marines rushed ashore, back to the stations they had occupied the night
before. The opportune moment for the Indians to rush on the cabins had passed.
. . . .
“It was now eight o’clock. Candles in some of the cabins
were still burning. Many of the men had just come in from the night watch. Some
were eating breakfast when suddenly came the shattering, deep-throated report
of the howitzer; the savage, fiendish yell of the natives; and the quick
fusillade of shots. The battle of Seattle had begun! No one mistook this for a
false alarm.
“Such a running for the fort! Louisa Denny grabbed Baby Inez
(one month past her second birthday and the artist of the
painting above) with one hand and tumbled a pan of biscuits just from
the oven into her apron with the other and ran. David (Denny
– Inez’s father, Louisa’s husband), who was on guard at the blockhouse,
ran to meet her and helped her in. Mrs. Blaine and her new baby (born the Sunday before) bundled into a rocking chair
and taken to the shelter of the Decatur.
Virginia Bell, running for shelter, darted like a little scared rabbit between the
legs of a marine who was in her path as she entered the blockhouse, knocking
him to the floor with a scramble that added to the panic.
. . . . .
“The first shot from the howitzer was followed by firing
from the ship’s battery and an exchange of gunfire between the Indians and the
volunteers and the marines. For two hours there was a steady booming and
hammering of firearms while the white-faced women and children, huddled in the
fort, prayed for the safety of their loved ones.
“Milton Holgate, an adventurous lad of fifteen, wishing to
be outside the fort with the soldiers, started out and was shot and instantly
killed as he was passing through the door. This tragedy added to the horror of
the day to those waiting in the fort.
. . . .
“A young man named Robert Wilson was also killed when
standing on the porch of the Felker House. These were the only casualties of
the day among the whites; they never knew how many Indians were killed . . . . . .
“The Indians had never engaged in such warfare before but
stood their ground remarkably well. The cries of the squaws were heard urging
their men on toward the blockhouse The Decatur’s
guns rained cannon balls, shell, and grapeshot upon the forest beyond Third
Avenue. This cannonading was supplemented by volleys from rifles and musketry
of sailors and civilians. For years afterward shells from the Decatur were found embedded in the
ground (some are in a display at MOHAI and you can see a few in the photo above). . .
“About noon Sheriff Thomas Russell, who had been across the
Sound, came paddling to the rescue bringing with him some men from Meig’s Mill.
In the afternoon the firing continued intermittently until about three o’clock.
Once there was a prolonged lull. It was learned afterward that the Indians had stopped
to feast on beef prepared by their squaws from the cattle of the settlers.
. . . .
“Toward evening, scouts were sent out who reported that the
enemy were placing inflammable material under and around the deserted cabins
preparatory to burning them. Shells from the Decatur scattered incendiaries, but not before they had robbed some
of the cabins of food and clothing.
“Mary Denny’s wedding gown was taken and she often wondered
which squaw it was that went trailing her treasured dress through the woods.
. . . . .
“According to Grant, this conflagration, planned for the
evening after the battle, was believed “to have been the signal for all Indians
on the beach and across the Sound to join in the attack” . . .the attack on
Seattle was to have been so bold and successful that Indians on the
reservations who were either neutral or friendly to the white men would be won
over to their side.
“By ten o’clock that night both sides had ceased firing and
all was quiet. But it was an ominous quiet. It was not peace.
. . . .
“When the morning of the 27th dawned, the Indians
had disappeared, taking many of the cattle with them. Chief Leschi sent back a
boastful message that he would be back in another month and destroy the town.
But he never came.
. . . .
“The attack on Seattle, which was to have been the Indians’
decisive and triumphant act, had failed. Although the war continued in other
parts of the Territory all that year, it was this battle that decided the
struggle in Washington Territory between the Indian and the white man.
“The Indian chiefs miscalculated in many ways. For one
thing, the fierce tribes that were leading the uprising defeated their own
plans of uniting the Indians, for they had terrified the weaker tribes for so
that it was now hard to gain their cooperation. . . .
. . . .
“But for the presence of the Decatur Seattle might have been wiped off the map. But the ship
alone could not have saved the village. The friendship of the settlers with the
Sound Indians, and the fact that there was not one of these pioneers but did
active service in the protection of the settlement helped immeasurably. At
every step in its history, whatever the need, those enthusiastic young men
swung an axe or shouldered a gun to make their vision real.
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