CRIME BEAT: ASSAULTS ON HOMESTEADERS IN OLD WEST
In this episode of Crime Beat the reader is once again carried back to the Plains states and territories for a look at some of the people who made America a place of realised abundance. Pioneer life is by its very nature “tough.” Most of the European settlers were strong in their Christian faith, which often requires of its faithful long-suffering before blessings are bestowed upon them. For some Pilgrims it may seem that “hell on Earth” has to be endured and passed through. Some never receive their blessings in this life. Today’s story involve settlers who fall into the last two areas. The focus will be on the nightmare detour experienced by some “little women.” These are tales of horror.
Yet, the horrors experienced by these settlers fully equal anything experienced by those involved as victims in the Witchita Five murders, or any other of this sensational kind. Consider:
” ‘The golden sun was sinking…when we camped near a sandy creek bed….[F]ather dug a hole one or two feet deep [and] the water arose so that he dipped a bucketful for our use. Joanna and I gathered sticks for the camp fire. Sophia opened the coop and scattered grain for her chickens. Father and Stephen milked the cows, and we enjoyed the sweet, warm milk along with the supper mother had prepared!…’
“Thus wrote seventeen-year-old Catherine German describing what had become for her and her family, as well as countless others, the end of a typical day’s journey on the great road west…During the previous two weeks, Catherine’s family had passed slowly, yet steadily, through the settled regions of Kansas…When the Germans queried about hostiles, those who knew only laughed. None had been seen in years….
Catherine: ‘‘Soon all were up and dressed; we ate breakfast and broke camp at sunrise….Father took his rifle, as was his custom, and walked ahead of the wagon…
“‘I looked and saw about a dozen antelope that had crossed the road in front of our wagon. Just then I heard the most terrible yells. We looked again and saw many forms dashing down upon our wagon. Stephen exclaimed, ‘Indians! Indians!’ I heard several dreadful groans. A great fear took possession of me…I tried to follow brother. As the savages neared me an arrow struck my thigh. A big burly Indian jumped off his horse, grabbed me and pulled out the arrow. He kicked me several times; then put me on his large bay horse and rode to our wagon. There I saw sister Jane lying dead….Jane had jumped from the wagon with an axe and struck her assailant on the shoulder; then another Indian shot her….[F]ather was first to fall and mother ran to his aid and was the next victim…Her captor cruelly murdered her and she fell near father’s body.
” ‘Some time passed while the Indians were parleying; they seemed to make a choice between Joanna and myself….The Indians removed our bonnets to see if we had long hair….My hair was short…Joanna was sitting on a box that had been taken from the back of our wagon….We heard the report of a rifle and when we looked again, our beloved sister, Joanna, was dead. The Indians then scalped their long-haired victims….This all happened within a very short time, and before any of us could realize it, our once happy family life was forever ended.
“‘We sisters were taken on the ponies behind those who chose us,’ said Catherine German. Julia, age seven, and Addie five, were chosen by a squaw and her husband while ‘an average-sized buck’ claimed twelve-year-old Sophia.
“‘I, Catherine was taken by…a hard-hearted, brutal and cruel savage….Later, they found a few horses so Sophia and I were each put on one with old pack saddles, which were better than none at all. We were not allowed to sit sidewise on the horses and for several days some one led them. I wondered if they feared we might escape. How glad we would have been to do so but there was no opportunity.
“‘The large squaw, whom I called Big Squaw, seemed delighted to see us tortured or frightened. Once when I was roasting a piece of liver over the camp fire, Big Squaw snatched it from the stick which held it and ate it just before I had finished cooking it. Another day, a buck tried to make us eat raw meat and because we would not do so, he threw firebrand at us and would not let me come near to cook our meat. These Redskins often tried to frighten me by saying they were going to kill me. Sometimes I heard the threat and felt the muzzle of the gun against my back but I stood very still for I felt that death would be better than living a miserable life with them. I was very despondent and did not care really what happened to me.’
“When they finally neared the village, Catherine’s captors stopped, donned their finest dress, including feathered bonnets, then smeared on war paint.
“‘When all were ready, they mounted their bare-backed ponies. The savage Indian who captured me, considered me his personal trophy, so he took me on behind himself and made me understand that I must cling to him. Thus adorned as the leader, he was nearly ready to start. I saw Sophia mounted behind a young Indian buck. She seemed uneasy, wondering what they meant to do. An intense sadness came over me as I noticed they had divided dear mother’s and sister Jane’s scalp locks into five pieces to represent the number of persons they had killed in our family. These long-hair scalp locks were fastened to the ends of rifles and swung to the breeze….
“‘When all were ready the Indians mounted and set out at full speed, my captor and myself as leaders. On, on, we dashed for several miles and soon our ponies were a lather of sweat. Still onward we sped and it seemed that they must drop from exhaustion. We must have raced on for four or five miles until we entered an Indian village; without slacking speed, they raced through it yelling and firing revolvers into the air. Men, women and children, also barking dogs, took after us. The Indians grabbed at me from all side as we passed them. I wondered if they intended to tear me into pieces. They did tear my dress skirt into strips….
“‘Strange Indians gathered around until I was the center of a large crowd….[M]y face was dirty, hair disheveled and my gingham dress had been torn from my body….Every way I turned, I saw many pairs of black eyes fixed upon me.’
“Simply because they were claimed by one Indian did not necessarily shield a captive from others. Catherine German was compelled by her master to serve as tribal prostitute and the frail young woman quaked each time she was forced to fetch wood or water, for she was often raped as many as six times on a single trip. Additionally, jealous squaws bitter over the attention captives received often beat them mercilessly and forced them into backbreaking labor. Although a white woman was considered a prized piece of property, her child was not. Unlike their mothers, who could be used as laborers or sexual slaves, small children had no immediate value.
“Seen as little more than a burden, the two youngest German girls were set adrift on the prairie and left to die. After wandering for weeks, living on grass and berries, the starving children were eventually recaptured by the Indians and brought to camp...[Later] while her captors were encamped along the headwaters of the Brazos in Texas, Catherine German corked a message tightly inside a bottle and tossed it into the trickle of water.
“When all else was taken from them–their children, their virtue, their dignity–the captives had little else to cling to but hope.” [SCALP DANCE, Thomas Goodrich, chapter 8, see: www.americanfreepress.net]
The Plains Indians certainly didn’t “invent” the system known as “prison labor,” but the reader may well note that the compelled labor by captives in a camp is a branch of the prison labor system most productively exploited in the U.S.S.R and the Peoples Republic of China in modern times. Certainly, the Plains Indians had at least an intuitive understanding of the basics: work incarcerated to death, discard, and replace with another. These people, mostly women and children, captured by Plains Indians, may well constitute America’s first significant “Missing In Action” population, if one reckons the wagons westward as commencing prior to the War Between The States. Yet no “state of war” against these Pilgrims could long prevail. The “sheep” were destined to regather and dominate.
Downnlaced, 2008.
CRIME BEAT: 19TH CENTURY: HORRORS ON THE PLAINS
This is another installment of Crime Beat, which is a series inspired by the old “Crime” magazines in which gristly episodes from the ongoing “Life in America” experience were related. Usually today, the media put a “spin” on crime which is not “keyed” to actual occurences but is much to express the equality of criminal acts. This Doctrine of the Equality of Criminal Acts automatically excludes the possibility of disparate results. Hence, when crime statistics indicate disparities in the social categories of the perpetrators of criminal acts, the media and most “eggheads” look to “flaws” in the data’s interpretations. The Doctrine of the Equality of Criminal Acts was founded upon the General Theory of Material Equality, which is a fundamental principle of the Jewish Cabala. This fundamental theory rests on the proposition that there is an ultimate “sea of undifferentiated being” or “light,” which emanated in astral projections. These projections originally became “star stuff,” as Mr. Carl Sagan might describe it, and pierced the Void in a fantasia of illusional material (“there’s no there there” actually) of which Earth and its flora and fauna are part. Yet, despite appearances of “diversity,” everything is essentailly the same emanated “stuff.” Hence, the concept of diversity must be a snare, as diversity, if actual, would violate the General Theory of Material Equality. No materiality can be both the same and diverse, except in the minds of Jewish and Masonic intellectuals. There immediately arises the suspicion of ulterior motivation. And so it is in Crime statistics and media coverage of crime.
Be that as it may, crimes in the “boondocks” of wilderness America perpetrated against European settlers is a vanishing area of historical information. One day soon all such data may vanish from the public domain, leaving the world to contemplate “bloody deeds” alleged to have been committed by these seem settlers, as well as the U.S. Army, and a potpouri of “moutain men,” adventurers, miners, fugitives, outlaws and the like. Only the aboriginal people in lands into which Europeans entered to farm and produce goods are without “sin” in the minds of the congregations of Universalist-Equalitarianists, who serve us by enacting governmental “policies” in the guise of Law and then ”judge” their constitutionality. This is know in Jewish circles as a “win-win” situation.
“‘With high-wrought hopes and pleasant anticipations of a romantic and delightful journey across the Plains,’ began Fanny Kelly’s account of her eagerly awaited journey to Idaho…Fanny, her husband, and their adopted child Mary, plus several others in the party, found themselves traveling through Wyoming in the heart of Indian country. And …the Oregon Trail was a heavily trod road…the Kellys were anxious about Indians. As Fanny explained, ‘At the outposts and ranches, we heard nothing but ridicule…At Horseshoe Creek, which we had just left, and where there was a telegraph station, our inquiries had elicited similar assurances as to the quiet and peaceful condition of the country through which we must pass. Being thus persuaded that fears were groundless, we entertained none.’
“Other than being young, attractive white women moving west by wagon, Fanny [was] only moments away from hell on Earth [and]…about to experience the much-dreaded ‘fate worse than death.’
“‘The beauty of the sunset and the scenery around us filled our hearts with joy,’ recalled Fanny Kelly as she, Mary, and others joined in chorus, ‘Ho! for Idaho!’ We wended our way peacefully and cheerfully on.
“‘Without a sound…or a word of warning, the bluffs before us were covered with a party of about two hundred and fifty Indians…who soon uttered a wild war whoop and fired a signal volley of guns and revolvers into the air. This terrible and unexpected apparition came upon us with such startling swiftness that we had no time to think before the main body halted and sent out a part of their force, which circled us round….Recovering from the shock, our men instantly resolved on defense, and corralled the wagons. My husband was looked upon as a leader…[and] I entreated him to forebear and only attempt conciliation. ‘If you fire one shot,’ I said, ‘I feel sure you will seal our fate, as they seem to outnumber us ten to one, and will at once massacre all of us.’
“‘My husband advanced to meet the chief…[and] the savage leader immediately came toward him uttering the friendly words, ‘How! How!’…He at once struck himself on his breast, saying ‘Good Indian, me,’ and while pointing to those around him, he continued, ‘Heap good Indian, hunt buffalo and deer.’ He assured us of his utmost friendship for all white people. He shook hands while others crowed around our wagons, shaking us all by the hand over and over again…My husband came to me with words of cheer and hope, but oh! what a marked look of despair was upon his face, such as I had never seen before…[W]e allowed them to take whatever they desired, and offered them many presents besides….Our anxiety to conciliate them increased every moment, for the hope of help arriving from some quarter grew stronger as they dallied.
“‘They grew bolder and more insolent in their advances….
“‘[T]hey requested that we should prepare supper, which they said they would share with us, and then go to the hills to sleep. The men of our party concluded it best to give them a feast and Mr. Kelly gave orders…to prepare a large meal immediately…Supper, that they asked for, was in rapid progress of preparation, when suddenly…there was a simultaneous discharge of arms, and when the cloud of smoke cleared away, I could see the retreating form of Mr. Larimer and also the faltering motions of poor Mr. Wakefield, for he was mortally wounded. Mr. Kelly and Andy made a miraculous escape with their lives. Mr. Sharp was killed within a few feet of me. Mr. T?aylor—I can never forget his face as I saw him shot through the forehead with a rifle ball. He looked at me as he fell backward to the ground, a corpse.
“‘[T]he Indians quickly sprang into our wagons, tearing off covers, breaking, crushing, and smashing all hinderances to plunder…They filled the air with the fearful war whoops and hideous shouts…[T]wo of the most savage-looking of the party rushed up into my wagon with tomahawks drawn in their right hands, and with their left seized me by both hands and pulled me violently to the ground, injuring my limbs very severely, almost breaking them…I turned to my little Mary, who with outstretched hands, was standing in the wagon.’
“…Fanny Kelly found herself on a horse bound for an Indian village…‘I rode on in my helpless condition with my child clinging to me….In the darkness of our ride I conceived a plan for the escape of little Mary. I whispered in her childish ear, ‘Mary, we are only a few miles from our camp…Drop gently down and lie on the ground for a little while to avoid being seen; then retrace your steps, and may God in mercy go with you. If I can, I will follow you later’….Accordingly, watching for an opportunity, I too, slipped to the ground under the friendly cover of night, and the horse went on without its rider.
“‘My plan was not successful…Crouching in the undergrowth I might have escaped in the darkness were it not for their cunning. Forming a line of forty or fifty abreast, they actually covered the entire ground as they rode toward me. The horses…betrayed me when they were frightened at my crouching form….The Indians used great violence toward me, assuring me that if any further attempts were made to escape, my punishment would be accordingly. They then promised to send a party out in search of the child when it became light…’
“Nearly insane over the fate of her husband and Mary, desperate for want of water, Fanny again stood at death’s door on the third night of captivity when she accidentally broke her captor’s ‘peace’ pipe.
“The sun began to sink, and the chief was so enraged against me that he told me by signs that I should behold it rise no more. Grinding his teeth with wrathful anger he made me understand that I was not to be trusted; had once tried to escape; had made them suffer the loss of my child, and that my life would be the forfeit. A large fire had been built and they all danced around it. Night had begun to darken heavily over me and I stood trembling and horror-struck not knowing that the flame, which the savages capered about, was destined to consume my tortured form….An untamed horse was brought and they told me I would be placed on it as a target for their deadliest arrows, and the animal might then run at will, carrying my body where it would.
“‘Helpless and almost dying with terror at my situation, I sank on a rocky seat in their midst. They were all armed and anxiously awaited the signal. They had pistols, bows, and spears; and I noticed that some were ready to raise blazing firebrands to frighten the pawing beast that was to bear me to death….In an instant a lifetime of thought condensed itself into my mind….
“‘In what I almost felt to be my final breath…and remembering a purse of money which was in my pocket…I drew it out and divided it among them….One hundred and twenty dollars in notes I gave them, telling them its value as I did so, when, to my astonishment, a change came over their faces. They laid their weapons upon the ground, seemingly pleased, and very anxious to understand; then asking me to explain the worth of each note clearly by holding up my fingers. Eagerly I tried to obey…but my cold hands fell powerless by my side, my tongue refused to utter a sound, and…I sank to the ground.’
“A short time later Fanny again faced death when an enraged Indian tried to shoot her with an arrow. Finally, the weary woman’s suffering was assuaged somewhat when she was allowed water at a campsite, whereupon she quickly dropped down in sleep….
“‘I was aroused by a whistling sound, and, gathering myself up, looked fearfully around me,’ said the startled woman. ‘Two flaming eyes seemed to pierce the darkness like a sword. I shuddered and held my breath, as a long lithe serpent wound past me, trailing it’s shining length through the damp sand and moving slowly out of sight among the dripping vines. After that I slepi no more.’
“Terrible as captivity had been thus far, once the victim reached the village, bondage began in earnest. Fanny Kelly:
“‘I had read of…all the characters of romance and history, wherein the nature of the red man is enshrined in poetic beauty. The untutored nobility of soul, the brave generosity, the simple dignity untrammeled by the hollow conventionalities of civilized life, all rose mockingly before me, and the heroes of my youthful imagination passed through my mind in strange contrast with the flesh and blood realities….The stately Logan, the fearless Philip, the bold Black Hawk, the gentle Pocahomtas; how unlike the greedy, cunning, and cruel savages who had so ruthlessly torn me from my friends!’…
” Meanwhile, uncertain of Mary’s fate since the night she escaped, Fanny Kelly could only pray the child had somehow reached safety.
“‘ Onc day as I was pursuing what seemed to me an endless journey, an Indian rode up beside me, whom I did not remember to have seen before. At his saddle hung a bright and well-known little shawl, and onto the other side was suspended a child’s scalp of long, fair hair.
“‘As myeyes restedon the frightful sight, I trembled in my saddle and grasped the air for support. A blood-red cloud seemed to come between me and the outer world….I dropped from the saddle as if dead and rolled upon the ground at the horse’s feet.’
“One of the most horrifying moments of Fanny Kelly’s captivity was not a beating, burning, or rape:
“‘[W]hile the savages lingered in camp about the banks of the Yellowstone River…a large Mackinaw, or flatboat, was seen coming down the river. From their hiding places they watched its progress like a tiger waiting for his prey. At sundown, the unsuspecting travelers pushed their boat toward the shore to camp for the night. The party consisted of about twenty men, women, and children. Suspecting no danger, they left their arms in the boat.
“‘With a vicious yell, the savages set upon them, dealing death and destruction in rapid strokes. The defenseless emigrants made an attempt to rush to the boat for arms, but were cut off, and their bleeding bodies dashed into the river as fast as they were slain. Then followed the torture of the women and children.’
“The captives were lost in a trackless waste and surrounded by a mounted foe who knew every foot of ground. For them to even consider escape seemed madness…Because of the terrible beating she received after her first escape attempt, Fanny Kelly began writing pathetic pleas for help that were then placed where she prayed whites would pass….When the haggard woman heard that the red men were finally willing to exchange her for goods from Fort Sully, Dakota Territory, joy turned into horror upon learning the Indians planned to massacre the garrison as soon as the gates were open. Smuggling a message to the fort, Fanny courageously alerted the commander. When she finally was brought into the post, the gates were quickly closed behind her and Fanny at last was free.
“‘The day that Mrs. Kelly was brought into the fort was one of the coldest I ever esperienced,’ remembered an officer, ‘and she was very poorly clad, having scarcely anything to protect her person. Her limbs, hands and face were terribly frozen, and she was put in the hospital…where she remained for a long time.’
“Fanny Kelly: ‘During all this time no tidings had been received by me concerning my husband. But one day, a great commotion was occasioned in the fort by the announcement that the mail ambulance was on the way to the fort and would reach it in a few moments. An instant after, a soldier approached me saying: ‘Mrs. Kelly, I have news for you. Your husband is in the ambulance.’
“No person can have even a faint idea of the uncontrollable emotions which swept over me….For seven long months we had not beheld each other; the last time being on the terrible field of slaughter and death. His personal appearance, oh! how changed! His face was very pale and his brown hair was sprinkled with gray. His voice was alone unchanged. Then he called my name and it never sounded so sweet.’
“In spite of the abuse she had endured, Fanny tried to piece together her life. To a degree, she succeeded…” [SCALP DANCE, Thomas Goodrich, excerpted from Ch.8, see: books, www.americanfreepress.net]
In this story of deceit and harm perpetrated against these pioneer settlers of the west America, the reader perceives the usual mayhem caused by armed strifing by peoples, but there is that other angle of wanton “wilding” against strangers on the road to the setting sun. Murders, aggravated assaults, sexual assaults, torture and sheer cruelty seem to be “par for the course.” Yet, there is another element to these stories of Indian mischief that is rarely spoken about in the bold terminology which is usually accorded slavery of, say, the African people in the American South. The enslavement of white women and children by Indians in the 19th century is the forgotten slavery of American history. As is customary amongst contemporary “eggheads,” the white victims are treated as the criminals. Ckearly, this is not the truth, as this Crime Beat episode demonstrates. The Indian peoples have never apologized to the white American people for this enslavement. There should be a monument on the Mall in Washington dedicated to these “forgotten victims.”
Downnlaced, 2008.

