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The next five years were passed
among my people, doing a little of everything, laboring, teaching, and
interpreting sermons among the Protestant missions--for there were by
this time two Protestant missions established among the Ottawas of Arbor
Croche, one at Bear River, now Petoskey, and another at Middle Village
or Arbor Croche proper, where I acted as an assistant teacher and
interpreter. I met much opposition from the Catholic community, because
I had already become a Protestant and left the Romish church, not by any
personal persuasion, however, but by terrible conviction on reading the
word of God--"That there is no mediator between God and man but one,
which is Christ Jesus, who was crucified for the remission of sins." One
Sunday, some friend persuaded me to come to the church, but when the
priest saw me he came and forcibly ejected me out of the room. The same
priest left the Indian country soon afterwards, and it seems he went to
England, and just before he died he wrote to my sister a very touching
epistle, in which he said nothing about himself or any one in Little
Traverse, but from the beginning to the end of the letter he expressed
himself full of sorrow for what he had done to me when in this country
among the Indians, and asking of me forgiveness for his wrongs towards
me.
Soon after the council of Detroit, I became very
discontented, for I felt that I ought to have gone through with my
medical studies, or go to some college and receive a degree and then go
and study some profession. But where is the means to take me through for
completing my education? was the question every day. So, after one
payment of the treaty of 1855, late in the fall of 1856, I went up to
Mr. Gilbert, who was then Indian agent, and made known to him my
intention, and asked him if he would aid me towards completing my
education, by arranging for me to receive the benefit of our educational
fund, which was set apart at the last council for the education of the
Indians in this State. But he would not. He bluffed me off by saying he
was sorry I had voted the "black republican ticket," at the general
election, which took place that fall of 1856. This was the first time
that the Indians ever voted on general election. Mr. Gilbert was at
North Port, Grand Traverse, on election day, managing the Indian votes
there, and he sent a young man to Little Traverse to manage the voting
there and sit as one of the Board at the Little Traverse election. He
sent the message to Indians to vote no other ticket but the democratic
ticket. At this election there were only two republican votes in Little
Traverse, one of which was cast by myself. As I was depositing my
ballot, this young man was so furiously enraged at me he fairly gnashed
his teeth, at which I was very much surprised, and from my companion
they tried to take away the ticket. Then they tried to make him exchange
his ticket, but he refused. We went out quickly, as we did not wish to
stay in this excitement. At that time I felt almost sorry for my people,
the Indians, for ever being citizens of the State, as I thought they
were much happier without these elections.
After payment of our annuities, as the vessel was about
starting off to take the Indian agent to Mackinac, they had already
hoisted the sails, although there was not much wind, and I thought, this
was the last chance to get to Mackinac. As I looked toward the vessel I
wept, for I felt terribly downcast. As they were going very slowly
toward the harbor point, I asked one of the Indian youngsters to take me
and my trunk in a canoe to the vessel out there. I had now determined to
go, in defiance of every opposition, to seek my education.6
I hurried to our house with the boy, to get my trunk and bid good bye to
my aged father, and told him I was going again to some school outside,
and if God permitted I hoped to return again to Little Traverse. All my
father said was, "Well, my son, if you think it is best, go." And away
we went. We overtook the vessel somewhere opposite Little Portage, and
as I came aboard the agent's face turned red. He said, "Are you going?"
I said, "Yes sir, I am going." So nothing more was said. The greater
part of the night was spent by the agent and the captain gambling with
cards, by which the agent lost considerable money. We arrived the next
day at Mackinac, and again I approached the Indian agent with request if
he could possibly arrange for me to have the benefit of our Indian
educational fund, set apart for that purpose at the council of Detroit,
1855; and again he brought up the subject of my voting. Then I was
beginning to feel out of humor, and I spoke rather abruptly to him,
saying, "Well, sir, I now see clearly that you don't care about doing
anything for my welfare because I voted for the republican party. But
politics have nothing to do with my education; for the Government of the
United States owes us that amount of money, not politics. I was one of
the councilors when that treaty was made, and I will see some other men
about this matter, sir." His face turned all purple, and as I was
turning about to keep away from him, he called me back, saying, "Mr.
Blackbird, how far do you intend to go to get your education?" I said,
"I intend to go to Ann Arbor University, sir." "Well, I will do this
much for you: I will pay your fare to Detroit. I am going by way of
Chicago, but you can go down by the next boat, which will be here soon
from Chicago." I thanked him, and he handed me money enough to pay my
fare to Detroit.
So I reached Detroit, and went to Dr. Stuben's house
and inquired my way to Governor Cass' residence; and when I knocked at
the door, behold it was he himself came to the door. I shook hands with
him and said, "My friend, I would like to speak to you a few moments."
"Is it for business?" he asked. "Yes sir, it is." "Well, my boy, I will
listen to what you have to say." I therefore began, saying, "Well, my
friend, I come from Arbor Croche. I am the nephew of your old friend,
'Warrior Wing,' am seeking for education, but I have no means; and I
come to see you expressly to acquaint you with my object, and to ask you
the favor of interceding for me to the Government to see if they could
possibly do something towards defraying my expenses in this object. That
is all I have to say." The old man raised his spectacles and said, "Why,
why! your object is a very good one. I was well acquainted with your
uncle in the frontier of Michigan during the war of 1812. Have you seen
and told the Indian agent of this matter?" "Yes sir, I have asked him
twice, but he would not do anything for me." "Why, why! it seems to me
there is ample provision for your people for that object, and has been
for the last twenty years. What is the matter with him?"
I said, "I don't know, sir." "Well, well; I am going to
Washington in a few days, and shall see the Indian Commissioner about
this matter, and will write to you from there on the subject. I know
they can do something toward defraying your expenses. Where do you
intend to go?" I said, "I don't know, yet, sir, but I thought of going
to the University at Ann Arbor." "Is it possible? are you prepared to
enter such a college?" I told him I thought I was. "Well, sir, I think
you had better go to Ypsilanti State Normal School instead of Ann Arbor:
it is one of the best colleges in the State." This was the first time I
ever heard of that school, and it sounded quite big to me; so I told him
that I would gladly attend that school, provided I had means to do so.
"Well, then, it is settled. You shall go to Ypsilanti, and I will direct
my letter to Ypsilanti when I write to you; and now mind nobody, but
just go about your business." After thanking him for his good counsel I
shook hands with the old man and left.
The next day was a terrible snow storm, but, however, I
started out for Ypsilanti, which is only about thirty miles from
Detroit. Of course, as I was totally a stranger in the place, I put up
at a hotel, although my means were getting very short. The next day I
went about to find out all about the institution, cost of tuition, and
private board, etc., and saw some of the professors of the institution,
but I did not dare to make any arrangements for a steady boarding place
and begin school for fear Governor Cass should fail of getting help from
the Government. Therefore, instead of beginning to go to school, I went
and hired out on a farm about three miles from the city, and continued
to work there for about three weeks before I heard from Governor Cass.
At last the old farmer brought a package of letters from the
post-office, one of which was post marked at Washington, D. C., and
another from Detroit. I fairly trembled as I opened the one which I
thought was from Governor Cass, as between doubt and hope, but my fears
were suddenly changed into gladness, and quickly as possible I settled
with the farmer, and away I went towards the city, singing as I went
along. By intercession of Governor Cass, it was proposed to pay my whole
expenses--board, clothes, books, tuition, etc. The other letter was from
the Indian Agent, calling me to come down to Detroit, as he had already
received some instructions from the Commissioner of Indian Affairs to
look after me and to arrange the matters of my schooling at Ypsilanti
State Normal School. O, how I did hate to have to meet the Indian Agent
again on this subject; to stand before him, and to have him think that I
had overcome him, and succeeded in spite of his opposition to my desire.
O, how I wished this matter could have been arranged without his
assistance. However, I started out for Detroit the same evening I
received these communications, and went to the agent. He never even
said, "How do you do?" but immediately began, saying, "Well, sir, how
much do you think that it will cost for your schooling at Ypsilanti?" "I
don't know, sir," I responded. "Well, who knows? I think you ought to
know, as you have been there," he said, in a gruff voice. "I have not
been to school at all, sir," I said, "but have been working on a farm up
to this morning." "Working on a farm, eh? I thought you came here on
purpose to attend school?" "I did, sir; but you know I was very short of
means, so I had to do something to keep me alive." "Can't you tell me
the cost for your board per week?" "The private board is from $3.50 to
$4 per week, sir, as according to accommodation." "How much for books
and clothing?" "I don't know, sir; but I think I have enough clothing
for at least one year."
In the morning I went back to Ypsilanti, and with the
aid of the professors of the institution I got a good boarding place. I
attended this institution almost two years and a half, when I could not
hold out any longer, as my allowance for support from the Government was
so scanty it did not pay for all my necessary expenses. I have always
attributed this small allowance to the Indian Agent who was so much
against me. I tried to board myself and to live on bread and water; and
therefore hired a room which cost me 75 cents a week, and bought bread
from the bakeries, which cost me about 50 cents a week, and once in a
while I had fire-wood as I did not keep much fire. I stood it pretty
well for three months, but I could not stand it any longer. I was very
much reduced in flesh, and on the least exertion I would be trembling,
and I began to be discouraged in the prosecution of my studies. By this
time I was in the D class, but class F was the graduating class in that
institution, which I was exceedingly anxious to attain; but I imagined
that I was beginning to be sick on account of so much privation, or that
I would starve to death before I could be graduated, and therefore I was
forced to abandon my studies and leave the institution.
As I did not have any money to pay my passage homeward,
I wept about working and occasionally lecturing on the subject of the
Indians of Michigan, and at last I had enough means to return home and
try to live once more according to the means and strength of my
education. September 4th, 1858, I was joined in wedlock to the young
lady who is still my beloved wife, and now we have four active children
for whom I ever feel much anxiety that they might be educated and
brought up in a Christian manner. Soon after I came to my country my
father died at a great age. The first year we lived in Little Traverse
we struggled quite hard to get along, but in another year I was
appointed U. S. Interpreter by the Hon. D. C. Leach, U. S. Indian Agent
for Mackinac Indian Agency, to whom I ever feel largely indebted, and I
continued to hold this situation under several of his successors in
office.
During the Rebellion I was loyal to the Government, and
opposed the bad white men who were then living in the Indian country,
who tried to mislead my people as to the question of the war, to cause
them to be disloyal. After the war was over, I was appointed as an
auxiliary prosecutor of the Indian soldier claims, as quite a number of
our people also helped to put down this rebellion, and many were killed
and wounded. But most of this kind of business I performed without
reward.
Before I was fairly out as Interpreter, I was appointed
with a very small salary as postmaster at Little Traverse, now Harbor
Springs, where I discharged my duties faithfully and honestly for eleven
years. But the ingress of the white population in this Indian country
increased much from 1872-73 and onward. The office was beginning to be a
paying one, and I was beginning to think that I was getting over the
bridge, when others wanted the office, my opponents being the most
prominent persons. Petitions were forwarded to Washington to have me
removed, although no one ever had any occasion to complain of having
lost his money or letter through this office during my administration.
At last, the third assistant postmaster general at Washington wrote me a
kind of private letter, stating that the main ground of the complaint
was, that my office was too small and inconvenient for the public, and
advising me to try and please the public as well as I could. And
consequently I took what little money I had saved and built a
comfortable office, but before the building was thoroughly completed I
was removed. This left me penniless in this cold world, to battle on and
to struggle for my existence; and from that time hence I have not held
any office, nor do I care to. I only wish I could do a little more for
the welfare of my fellow-beings before I depart for another world, as I
am now nearly seventy years old, and will soon pass away. I wish my
readers to remember that the above history of my existence is only a
short outline. If time and means permitted, many more interesting things
might be related.
6. Indians are now forbidden to leave
their reservations without permission from the agent, so no ambitious
and determined youth can now escape from the Indian Bureau machine.--ED.
Index
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