The great Indian scare

When the first settlers arrived in the Sheboygan area, they quickly learned that the Indians living in the area seemed to accept them and very little trouble occurred. But there was always an undercurrent of doubt and fear. Could these strange forest people really be trusted? From time to time newspapers of the day carried lurid tales of Indian massacres, of settlers being attacked, homes burned and families killed. Even though many of the area Indians came to be known personally by the settlers and frequently came into towns such as Plymouth and Sheboygan, they were never quit trusted.

The story I am about to relate has been told many times, but it is worth retelling because it is such a clear demonstration of how unrestrained fear, prejudice and panic can affect thousands of people based on nothing more than a unfounded rumor. The panic spread along the western shore of Lake Michigan from Green Bay to Chicago in just a short time.

In the year 1862, Sheboygan was still a struggling village in an area that many people considered the edge of civilization. Sept. 3, 1862, to this day is still one of the amazing days in the history of our county; it was the day of the great Indian scare.

It was a warm autumn day with a clear blue sky, the leaves of the trees were just beginning to turn every color of red and gold that you could imagine and in the county farmers were well along with the fall harvest. It was on that sleepy fall day that several men were lounging on a bench in front of the Kossuth House, a popular hotel near present-day Eighth Street and Center Avenue.

The men relaxing in the sun in front of the hotel were startled to hear a horse coming along Eighth Street from the north at great speed, raising a cloud of dust, whipped into a frenzy by a rider who was shouting loudly. The unknown rider reined up in front of the hotel, jumped off his horse shouting “The injuns are coming, the injuns are coming!” The men jumped up and asked him where they were coming from and how many? He blurted out that thousands of them were coming down the lakeshore, destroying everything in their path, killing, robbing and raping. The rider said in fact that Manitowoc and Manitowoc Rapids had already been burned to the ground and the unfortunate residents of these two villages had all been murdered and scalped. He further said that the savages had torn babies from their mothers’ arms and thrown the helpless children into the burning buildings.

With little more than that unfounded rumor, blind panic swept through Sheboygan. Riders were dispatched to Sheboygan Falls and Plymouth to warn them of the mob of bloodthirsty Indians coming their way. Within an hour, every hardware store in the city had sold every gun and ounce of gunpowder in stock. The frightened residents bought every axe, hatchet, pitchfork and knife that the hardware stores could supply. Guns that had not been fired since the Revolutionary War were brought out of attics. One local man was seen rushing about town wearing a sword that dated back to the days of Napoleon. It was reported that in Plymouth a man donned his old uniform complete with a Calvary saber from the days when he had served in the Prussian army.

Large groups of people in total panic rushed to the lakefront and begged ship captains to take them on board and set sail at once. The terror-stricken residents offered the captains ridiculous sums of money to take them away from the path of the marauding Indians.

Captain Marschner, leader of the city militia, marshaled his men under arms, swearing to protect the city to the last man. As the day wore on and the sun began to set, the militia assembled and marched to what is now approximately N. 21st Street and Calumet Drive and set up a road block. Apparently the Captain thought the Indians would be marching down the road in formation to sack Sheboygan. The road however was crowded with wagons that had been hastily loaded with furniture and terrified men, women and children.

In Sheboygan County, farmers turned loose their livestock hoping that by letting them wander freely some of the animals would not be stolen by the Indians. Women hastily gathered family heirlooms such as silverware and jewelry and buried them out in their fields. The farmers then took their families into the cornfield so they could conceal themselves from the onrushing horde. Farmers took along with them every weapon they could get their hands on, swearing to protect their families to the end. Some of the grim-faced farmers swore that they themselves would kill their families rather than let them be butchered by the Indians and they would save the last bullet for themselves.

It was now estimated that over 4,000 refugees in Sheboygan choked nearly every street and alley with hundreds of loaded wagons.

Back at the road block in Sheboygan, it was now pitch dark. For the men manning the barricade, the night would be a long, terrifying ordeal. Every shadow was a crouching Indian holding a tomahawk still dripping with blood from his last victim. Every sound was a stealthy savage creeping up on them through the darkness.

Suddenly the men at the road block heard a crunch of branches in the underbrush … someone was coming! First, one shot was fired, then the entire militia opened fire into the brush, a groan was heard … then a heavy thud. The captain nodded his approval and said “That’s one injun that ain’t gonna kill nobody.” A patrol of volunteers was assembled and they cautiously entered the brush to see whom they had killed. A short time later the patrol returned and sheepishly informed the captain that some poor farmer was short one Holstein cow!

Then to the west, a huge red glow lit up the sky, it flickered and danced and was taken for absolute proof that the Indians were on the way and burning farms as they came. The stalwart militia braced themselves for what they thought was an imminent attack, but none came. When at last daylight came, a patrol was sent out to assess the damage and to try to determine if Indians were still in the area. The patrol went west from the city on what is now highway 42 and soon met a rider coming towards them. They inquired of him “How many injuns have you seen”? The confused rider said “injuns? I saw one about a week ago sitting alongside the road in Manitowoc.” The militia men then asked him if the city of Manitowoc had been completely destroyed. The astonished rider replied “Why would it be destroyed?” The militia informed him that marauding Indians had burned it to the ground. The rider said “I went through Manitowoc last night and it looked Okay to me,” then left the area shaking his head.

Just a little further down the road the militia, at last, came upon what they thought was absolute proof of the Indian raid. A disheveled farmer, his face and hands streaked with soot, was seen standing along with his wife near the smoldering ruins of their barn. Again the militia asked how many Indians were there? The farmer said there weren’t any Indians. “I dropped my lantern in the barn and set the barn on fire.” The farmer complained that once the fire started he ran outside and rang his fire bell like crazy, but no one came to his aid. The exhausted farmer asked “Where is everybody?”

It was becoming very clear to the militia that there had been no Indian attack. There were not 10,000 Indians nor 1,000 nor 100 nor even one. There were in fact no Indians on the warpath. It also occurred to authorities that none of the people who related the tales of horror were eyewitnesses.

The origin of the rumor has never been determined and remains a mystery to this day. The ensuing panic had affected tens of thousand of people from Green Bay to Chicago.

Today’s Snippet: A young farm woman near Plymouth, on hearing the Indians were coming, ran three miles into Plymouth carrying the only possession she thought to save … a still warm pumpkin pie!

Note: Each Tuesday morning at 7:20, a discussion of this column can be heard on radio station WJUB “The Breeze,” 1420 on the AM dial.