In August of 2000, my wife Karen and I drove to Minnesota from our home near Chicago to take part in a tour of the area where most of the fighting occurred in August of 1862. The tour was conducted by the Minnesota Historical Society to commemorate the anniversary of the Sioux Uprising.
We had learned about the tour quite by accident. Some years before, during a trip with her girlfriends to the Mall of America, Karen took a bus trip to the Jackpot Junction Casino about two hours west of the Twin Cities. Along the way she noticed signs with names that sounded familiar, such as Fort Ridgley State Park and Birch Coulee, and upon arrival discovered the casino was owned and operated by a Dakota tribe and located on what had once been the Lower Sioux Agency. When she returned home, she said, “I think I was where your great-grandfather fought the Indians.” The places she mentioned sounded right to me, so we got out Thomas Barnes’ memoir and, sure enough, realized that was where she had been.
At the time both of us were working full time as public school teachers, so we noted it as an interesting coincidence and went on with our lives. However, I filed the information in the back of my mind as a place I wanted to visit after we retired, which we both did in 1999. In the spring of 2000 my son, Michael, found an item on the internet concerning the guided tours of Birch Coulee, Fort Ridgely, and other historical sites in the area, so we decided it was time to make our pilgrimage into my family’s past.
I contacted the Lower Sioux Agency History Center and not only signed up for a tour but arranged to exchange copies of my great-grandfather’s memoirs in exchange for whatever information they could provide me about the war. The young people who ran the history center were more than generous and extremely helpful and gave an excellent tour. Without their help, my book never could have been written. In this way, I became acquainted with the country over which my great-grandfather fought so many years ago.
If Tom Barnes had been riding in the back seat of our Honda minivan on that hot August afternoon as we drove west on U.S. Highway 14 from Rochester, he would have been amazed by all the buildings and traffic, but he would also find that farming is still the main business for people living in the Minnesota River Valley. Though the tall grass prairie is mostly gone, the deep rich soil it produced is still there and is some of the most productive farmland in the world. Eventually our journey brought us to the Minnesota River, which we crossed at New Ulm. That town now not only occupies the bottomland near the river, but also the benches that rise to the south and west where the Dakota gathered by the hundreds before they made their second attack on Charles Flandreau’s poorly armed volunteer defenders.
We continued west on US 14, passing through Sleepy Eye, and from there followed highway 68 and then highway 67 northwest until turning due north on Route 2 at the little town of Morgan. In doing so we were retracing, in the opposite direction, the approximate route taken by Frances Patoile, Mattie Williams, Mary Schwandt and Mary Anderson as they attempted to escape to the relative safety of New Ulm on the first day of the uprising. Their intention at the time was to avoid the Lower Agency. However, when my wife and I turned north on Route 2, we were heading straight for it, or I should say what is left of it.
Only one original building still stands at the site of the former Lower Agency, a warehouse, but a walking trail with markers shows the former locations of various other buildings. In 2000 there was also a modern visitor’s center maintained and staffed by the Historical Society, but unfortunately that excellent facility has been closed due to lack of funds. The site is still maintained by the society but no longer open to the public on a regular basis, truly a loss for the people of Minnesota.
The community that resides there, the descendants of the Mdewakanton Dakota who once called it home, is still viable and numbers approximately three hundred people. The Dakota residents support themselves through farming and from the proceeds of their casino, Jackpot Junction, plus a motel and a gas station. We stayed at the casino, and by all appearances it is a profitable business which hopefully provides employment for many of the residents.
Our tour was scheduled to begin at the Fort Ridgely History Center in the Fort Ridgely State Park, a few miles south of the town of Fairfax. The fort’s commissary is still intact and maintained as a museum by the Historical Society. From there we retraced the route taken by the burial party under Captain Grant (or Major Brown, depending on whose version of the story that you believe) as they made their way first to the Redwood Ferry and then to Beaver Creek, and finally to their camp at Birch Coulee. It is no longer possible to follow the original trail to the ferry, and the land looks very different today, not due to the addition of buildings but to the proliferation of trees. In 1862 there were very few trees of any kind except for those growing along the river bottom. But the prairie fires that maintained the grassland have been suppressed, creating a good deal of wooded land between the farmers’ fields. Today, Dakota scouts like Lightning Blanket would probably not have been able to spot the burial party which included my great-grandfather crossing the high ground on the east bank of the river on their way to Birch Coulee.
The Birch Coulee Battle site has been preserved as open ground for the most part. The battlefield was much smaller than I had imagined, and I could understand why the Dakota, even with their relatively inaccurate guns, could have inflicted so much damage. A replica of what is called a “Sibley Tent,” though not invented by Henry Sibley, was set up in the area where the soldiers had made their camp, and from there it was easy to see why they had been unknowingly surrounded. A dirt path led to the small hump of ground where Big Eagle and his men had poured their deadly fire into the camp. No doubt had they had another day to complete their task, the Dakota victory would have been complete, though the outcome of the war would likely not have been any different.
Unfortunately, my wife and I did not go to the Wood Lake Battle site, Yellow Medicine or Camp Release, though I now wish I had. However, it is not difficult to imagine what that trip would be like.
In 1862 Sibley’s forces had to cross the Redwood River on their trek to Yellow Medicine and the Upper Agency. At that time, they would have passed Big Eagle’s village on the south side of the river and Shakopee’s village on the north side. The trail then paralleled the Minnesota River all the way to Yellow Medicine. This route no longer exists. The town of Redwood Falls now occupies the south bank of the river, and the main road, which is Route 19/67, heads due west from there rather than northwest as the old trail did. Route 9 does cross the Redwood near the point of the old trail, passing near the former site of the Rice Creek Village, home to the radical followers of Red Middle Voice, but then turns due west a few miles beyond Rice Creek.
Finding the Wood Lake Battle site is difficult for two reasons. First, the battle was actually fought near Lone Tree Lake. Wood Lake is much larger and at least five miles due west of the battle site. Why the names of the lakes became confused is not known. Second, there is nothing designating the location of the battle, which is where Route 67, after splitting off from Route 19, crosses the outlet creek from the lake. However, if you continue on 67, you will eventually arrive at the Yellow Medicine River and the Upper Sioux Agency.
What was once the Yellow Medicine (or Upper) Agency is now a one-thousand acre state park. The foundations of some of the old buildings have been excavated and one brick building has been restored. You can stay overnight in the park in a rented tepee or your own tent and enjoy the nature preserve, but nothing remains of the Hazelwood or Paiutazee Missions run by Thomas Williamson and Stephen Riggs. Gone also are the homes of their congregation members like Little Paul, Lorenzo Lawrence, Akipa, and Simon Anawangmani, most of which were destroyed in 1862. However, if you continue a mile or so north on Route 67, you will pass through the nine-hundred- acre Upper Sioux Indian reservation where, no doubt, some of the descendants of the Peace Party members still reside.
Three miles beyond the reservation, Route 67 enters the town of Granite Falls. It is the home of Andrew Volstead, author of the Volstead Act, which made prohibition the law of the land in the 1920s. To travel the path taken by the Dakota after their retreat from Yellow Medicine, you must take Route 212. This route will not take you directly to the former site of Red Iron’s Village or Camp Release, because it crosses the Minnesota River eight miles northwest of Granite Falls and continues on to the town of Montevideo on the Chippewa River, where it joins with the Minnesota. Route 212 then turns due west in the town, recrosses the Minnesota, and passes through the area where the Peace Party made their stand and met Sibley’s army to return the captives. A 51-foot monument was erected on the bluff overlooking the river valley in 1894 to commemorate Camp Release, so the sacrifices and struggles of 1862 have not been totally forgotten.
Yet even though peace returned to the Minnesota River Valley over one hundred years ago, the problems that caused the war–the deceitful and unfair treaties upon which the state and nation were built, along with the clash of cultures between the European-Americans and Native-Americans, and racism in general–are still with us today, and they are problems that still need to be addressed.