Fur Traders And Their Posts In The Iowa Country After 1824

 

Sac and Fox hunters trapping beaver along an Iowa stream

By the 1820s, the fur trade was everywhere in the Iowa country. Rivers turned into highways. Canoes, keelboats, and trading boats traveled up and down the Mississippi carrying furs, lead, whiskey, blankets, traps, and trade goods.

Money drove everything. Beaver pelts. Otter skins. Deer hides. Muskrat. Lead from the Dubuque mines. Traders hauled it south to St. Louis where fortunes could be made fast. Some men got rich. Plenty more went broke trying.

George Davenport became one of the biggest traders on the Upper Mississippi. He built posts across eastern Iowa and traveled from village to village, buying furs from Native hunters. Russell Farnham worked the same country for John Jacob Astor’s American Fur Company. By the mid-1820s, Astor’s company took over many of its smaller competitors.

The Sac, Fox, Sioux, Winnebago, and Ioway were the key players in the Iowa country. Hunting grounds mattered. So did old rivalries. When tribes went to war, traders lost money. Camps emptied. Hunting parties disappeared. Rumors could wreck an entire season.

Building And Abandonment of Fort Madison

 

Fort Madison (from an old print)

Fort Madison was doomed before the first log hit the ground.

 

The Americans came in 1808. Boats sliding up the Mississippi. Soldiers carrying axes, muskets, and orders from Washington. Build a fort. Hold the frontier. Control the river.

 

The problem was that the fort sat deep inside Sac and Fox territory. American officers called it a trading post. Black Hawk and his followers saw an invasion.

 

The tension never let up. Warriors watched from the trees. Soldiers watched from the walls. Every sound made men reach for their muskets.

 

Then the attacks came.

 

Gunfire from the hills. Fire arrows across the night sky. Burning chunks of wood roasted the rooftops inside the fort. Soldiers filled their muskets with water, using them like syringes to douse the flames.

 

Realizing there was no way to save the fort, the soldiers planned their escape.

 

They dug a trench from the fort to the river. Then crawled through the dirt as the fort burned. At the river, they climbed into boats and disappeared into the darkness.

 

By morning, Fort Madison was gone.

 

The passage below was published in the Iowa Journal of History and Politics in April 1914, as part of “Forts in the Iowa Country” by Jacob van der Zee.

Official American And British Accounts Of The Battle Of Credit Island

 

Major Zachary Taylor

I’ve included several accounts of the Battle of Credit Island on this site. The following accounts were written by—Major Zachary Taylor and Lieutenant Duncan Graham (British Army).

 

The info is reprinted from Mersey, William A.. “Credit Island, 1814-1914.” Journal of the Illinois State Historical Society. January 1915. P. 359-368.

 

American Expedition to Wipe Out Saukenuk

 

There was nothing to hinder Indian depredations in the Upper Mississippi Valley. St. Louis was the farthest northern and western point where an American Army was located. It was decided that the Indian Village at Rock River (The Sac near its mouth and the Fox on the west side of the Mississippi opposite the lower end of Rock Island) should be destroyed. Major Zachary Taylor, with a detachment of three hundred and thirty-four men in eight large fortified keel boats, left Cap Au Gris on the 23rd of August, and on the evening of September 5th, reached Rock River. On his arrival, Indians in large number made their appearance. After they had passed the mouth of Rock River, the wind began to blow a hurricane, and Taylor’s boats were blown toward the small island above Credit Island, where about four o’clock a landing was made.

Zachary Taylor’s Worst Day? The Chaotic Battle of Credit Island

 

Zachary Taylor

The upper Mississippi River was a dangerous place to be wearing an American uniform in the fall of 1814.

The British controlled Prairie du Chien. Sauk and Fox warriors controlled the area around the Rock River. American settlements farther south lived with constant rumors of raids, ambushes, and attacks. St. Louis was about as far north as American power reached. Beyond that, things got shaky fast.

So, the American Army hit back.

Major Zachary Taylor loaded 334 men into eight fortified keelboats and pushed north up the Mississippi in late August 1814. The mission was simple enough on paper: move toward Rock River, destroy the Sauk and Fox villages, burn corn supplies, and remind everybody who controlled the river.

The farther north Taylor went, the more warriors appeared along the shoreline. Canoes slipped back and forth across the river, and men watched from the trees.

Taylor noticed horses near the shore and smelled trouble, saying they were “doubtless placed” there to lure American troops into landing parties. He wasn’t wrong. The Sauk and Fox knew where boats could land, where sandbars sat hidden under the water, and where a man could disappear into the willows, never to be seen again.

Morrill Marston Commandant of Fort Armstrong 1819-1821

Fort Armstrong at Rock Island

Morrill Marston served as commandant at Fort Armstrong from August 1819 to June 1821. After leaving Fort Armstrong, Marston became the commandant of Fort Edwards. His primary duty was to stop boats going up the river and search them for whiskey to ensure it did not get to the Indians.

After leaving the army when Fort Edwards was abandoned in 1824, he began farming near the fort. Unfortunately, Marston drowned in a drunken fit in 1831.

Fortunately for us, he penned a series of letters on the Sac and Fox customs to Reverend Jedidiah Morse in 1820. In addition, Marston said he talked with four of the principal chiefs of the two nations.

They called the land around Fort Armstrong Sen-i-se-po Ke-be-sau-lee or Rock River Peninsula. Government agents had been trying to get the tribes to relocate for some time but had no luck. A Fox chief told him they would not leave because their chiefs and friends were buried there.

An Early Attack On Fort Madison

George Catlin painted this picture of a Sauk & Fox war dance in the early 1830s

 

The following passage has been reprinted from “Old Fort Madison: Some Source Materials” by Jacob Van der Zee, published in the Iowa Journal of History and Politics. October 1913. P. 520-525. It is part of a journal entry from a soldier or trader stationed at Fort Madison in 1808 and 1809.

 

[The Indians] kept in a body and counseled among themselves, the best manner of surprising Fort Madison, or rather the temporary stockade before the new fort could be occupied. They knew the new fort could not be occupied before the following summer; the soldiers hauled all the pickets and timber in the winner, hitched to sleds, 10 or 15 men to a sled, for want of horses or oxen.

 

Whilst they were occupied, the Indians were debating on the best mode of attack, several head, men and warriors spoke in council, each submitting his favorite mode of attack. They kept themselves posted up in regard to the progress of the new fort, which was to be of picket work and blockhouses. The pickets were to be about 15 feet high and sharpened at the top. The month of May was decided upon as the time for attacking the troops and kill every man if they could.

Black Hawk Purchase And The Opening of Iowa Territory

 

Chief Keokuk signing the Black Hawk Purchase

It ended at the Bad Axe River in August 1832.

Black Hawk and his followers were trying to cross the Mississippi. They were tired, hungry, and running. U.S. troops caught them at the river. What followed wasn’t much of a battle.

It was a massacre.

Soldiers fired from the shore. A steamboat moved into position and opened fire. People tried to swim across. Many didn’t make it. Men, women, and children were shot in the water or cut down on the shore.

By the time it was over, hundreds were dead.

That ended the war.

Black Hawk escaped with a small group and headed north, but he didn’t get far. Ho-Chunk men captured him and turned him over to U.S. forces.

He was taken to Jefferson Barracks near St. Louis and held there as a prisoner.

While he was in custody, the future of his people was being decided.

Chief Keokuk In The Black Hawk War

When Black Hawk crossed back into Illinois with his band, it lit a fuse. Panic spread fast. Settlers ran. Militias formed. War was coming whether or not anyone wanted it.

Keokuk didn’t join him, even though a lot of his people expected it. Black Hawk was a war leader with a following, and tradition said you stood with your own. Keokuk saw it differently. He warned his band that this was a fight they couldn’t win. The Americans had too many soldiers and guns.

Hs decision to keep his band out of the war split the Sauk Nation. Some followed Black Hawk, but most stayed with Keokuk. It wasn’t a popular call, but it held.

While the fighting moved north and west, Keokuk stayed put. He worked with U.S. officials, kept his people from getting pulled in, and did what he could to keep things from getting worse.

When it was over, Black Hawk’s band was shattered. Keokuk’s people were still there.

That didn’t mean they won. The Americans still took their land, but they weren’t wiped out in a lost war.

Chief Wapello

 

Chief Wapello was born around 1787 and grew up in a world the Meskwaki (Fox) people understood—rivers, trade, alliances, and long-held ground in what’s now Iowa. By the time he became a leader, that world was coming apart. American soldiers, settlers, and traders kept pushing in, taking their lands.

He’d  been a warrior when he was younger, but as things changed, Wapello leaned into diplomacy. He worked closely with U.S. Indian agent General Joseph Street, a man he trusted more than most. That didn’t mean Wapello trusted the system. It meant he understood what he was up against.

He signed treaties that gave up huge chunks of land. Nobody on his side thought those deals were good. They were damage control. The alternative was war, and Wapello had seen enough to know how that usually ended.

Americans called him steady and honest. His own people followed him because he didn’t pretend things were better than they were.

When he died in 1842, he asked to be buried next to Joseph Street near Agency City.

Fox War Chief Sogonapothanji

Sogonapothanji was a Meskwaki (Fox) war chief in what is now eastern Iowa. His name meant “He Slew Three Sioux,” and it wasn’t a metaphor. It was a record.

Among the Meskwaki, names like this marked what a man had done, not what he hoped to be remembered for. Sogonapothanji’s reputation came from direct conflict with the Dakota (Sioux), longtime enemies in a region where raids and counter-raids were part of daily reality. Survival depended on speed, strength, and nerve. Leaders proved themselves in action.

He was not a council chief. His authority came from warfare—planning attacks, leading fighters, and defending Meskwaki territory when violence broke out. Killing enemy warriors was dangerous, personal work. Doing it more than once mattered. Doing it three times gave him a name people remembered.

By the time Americans began building forts and pressing westward, men like Sogonapothanji were already veterans of another kind of struggle. Intertribal warfare didn’t pause for treaties or survey lines. It continued even as a new and far larger threat crept into the region.

Meskwaki Chief Taimah

Chief Taimah was a Meskwaki (Fox) leader in the early nineteenth century, known less for fighting than for dealing with Americans face to face. That alone made his job dangerous.

He was a civil chief. A negotiator, expected to sit through long councils, listen to translators stumble through his words, and answer to officials who already believed the outcome was decided. Taimah understood that once something was said, it lived on paper. And paper lasted longer than promises.

He spent years moving through that system. Treaty talks. Delegations. Repeated demands that the Meskwaki give up land and move west. Saying no often brought soldiers. Saying yes brought regret. Taimah chose his words carefully because there were no good options left—only less immediate disasters.

He wasn’t naïve. When he signed treaties, it wasn’t trust. It was calculation. Delay could mean another season on familiar ground. Another year to plant corn. Another chance to keep families together before removal became unavoidable.

George Catlin said he was calm, dignified, and deliberate. He noticed how carefully Taimah dressed and carried himself. That wasn’t vanity. It was strategy. Appearance spoke before words did.

Pashepaho, The Little Stabbing Chief

Pashepaho, sometimes written as Pah-e-pa-ho,  was a civil chief of the Sauk Nation in the early 1800s.

In Letters and Notes, George Catlin described Pashepaho as "grave and deliberate." He was one of five Sauk delegates who signed the 1804 treaty at St. Louis, which gave away most of the tribal lands, including Saukenuk.

He showed up to speak for his people while land disappeared and choices narrowed, knowing restraint was the only tool he had left—and using it, anyway.

He sided with Black Hawk’s British Band during the War of 1812, then sided with Keokuk’s peace faction during the Black Hawk War in 1832.

When The Fighting Stopped & The Land Changed Hands: Winfield Scott & The Black Hawk Purchase

Winfield Scott in 1812

When General Winfield Scott reached Fort Armstrong, the Black Hawk War was over. The shooting had stopped. The militia had gone home. What remained was the uneasy quiet that settles in after a storm. Scott hadn’t come to win a battle. He had come to draw the new lines that followed one.

He was supposed to arrive at the height of the campaign with a fresh army behind him. Instead, cholera ripped his force apart as it moved along the Great Lakes. Soldiers died fast—sometimes within hours. One volunteer wrote, “Death travels faster than the soldier.” Scott burned contaminated gear, quarantined entire units, and marched on through the sickness anyway.

 

By late July, he reached Illinois with what one newspaper called “a column of survivors rather than an army.” And by then, Black Hawk had been defeated at the Bad Axe River. The war had closed its own curtain.

 

But Washington wanted more than peace. Officials wanted land—security for settlers, control of the Mississippi, and a treaty that would keep Native nations from returning to Illinois. If the war had been fought with bullets, the settlement would be finished with signatures.

Chief Keokuk And The Price of Survival

Keokuk (George Catlin, 1834-1836)

Keokuk was born into chaos.

Everything around him was collapsing — the land, the treaties, the tribes themselves. The frontier was spilling over its banks, and white cabins were rising like weeds along every river bend. The whiskey flowed cheaply and steadily. Guns changed hands faster than words. The Americans were coming, whether or not anyone liked it.

He was born somewhere near Rock River, back when the Sac and Fox still owned the world between the Mississippi and the Des Moines. He grew into a tall, broad man with a deep voice and steady eyes. He fought young, killed early, and learned fast. In his first battle, he killed a Sioux warrior with a spear while on horseback. The elders feasted him that night and named him a brave.

That was how it started — his first taste of power, his first applause. He liked both.

By the time the War of 1812 came, Keokuk understood glory was good, but survival was better. Black Hawk didn’t. The old warrior and his “British Band” went off to fight for the King, leaving the tribe’s villages empty and exposed. When they came back, they found Keokuk sitting in the council lodge as a chief.

Moses Keokuk Son of Chief Keokuk

In 1852, Wunagisa went to Washington to meet the people who decided who would be considered chiefs and such things. The Commissioner of Indian Affairs told him his father had been made a chief because he was “a good man and a true friend to the whites.” He said General Winfield Scott had approved it, and that if Wunagisa was as good as his father, he could remain chief.

That was the rule. Keep the peace. Be the kind of man who didn’t cause trouble.

Years later, Wunagisa became a Baptist. He took the name Moses Keokuk and began trying to live in a way the white men would approve. He gave up one of his wives, stopped drinking, stopped gambling. He moved out of his wigwam, stopped painting his face, and gave up the ceremonies his father had led.

Many in his tribe couldn’t understand it. The old Moses had been a man of color and noise—his hair shaved in bright stripes, his clothes loud, his laugh louder. He raced horses, made bets, and stood at the center of things. “He wore the most gaudy apparel he could find,” said Jacob Carter, the government agent.

Artist George Catlin on the Iowa Frontier

George Catlin

George Catlin moved upriver in the summer of 1832, chasing something he couldn’t name. The steamboat thumped against the current, smoke rolling over the deck, the air thick with mosquitoes and gunpowder residue. The Black Hawk War was over. The army said peace had returned to the frontier. Catlin didn’t see peace. He saw silence—the kind that comes after something irreversible.

He was heading for Fort Armstrong, a log-and-stone post on Rock Island, Illinois. Across the river lay the territory that would become Iowa. The Army held it now, but the land still belonged to the people who had lived and died there.

 

Catlin was an unlikely witness. He was a painter—a thin, restless man who believed he could record an entire world before it disappeared. “I have flown to the rescue of their looks, manners, and customs,” he wrote, “from the grasp of civilization, which will destroy them.”

Black Hawk Sauk War Chief

Born in 1767, Black Hawk was older than the United States. His father was a war  chief, and though it was never certain, Ma-ka-tai-me-she-Kia-kiak, or Black  Sparrow Hawk, became the best-known chief of the Sacs. After the Black Hawk  War, he met President Andrew Jackson in Washington and told him, “I am one  man. You are another.”

Colonel Henry Dodge Frontier Ranger Black Hawk War

Henry Dodge

Henry Dodge stood on a ridge overlooking the Wisconsin River, coat streaked with mud and gunpowder, watching his men reload. The air smelled like wet leaves and blood. Below them, the Sauk lay scattered through the brush. It was July 21, 1832. Nobody said the words, but everyone knew it—the war was dying.

 Two months earlier, everything had gone to hell. Black Hawk had crossed the Mississippi with his people—warriors, mothers, old men, kids—all of them walking straight back into the land they used to call home. The settlers panicked like prairie chickens in a thunderstorm. Militias sprang up overnight. Dodge didn’t wait for anyone to tell him what to do. He just saddled his horse and rode toward the smoke.

 

His men came from the lead mines—farmers, drifters, gamblers, men who smelled like sweat and whiskey and knew how to shoot by instinct. They didn’t have uniforms. Some didn’t even have boots. They slept in the mud and ate whatever didn’t crawl away first. Orders came slowly; rumors came fast. Every campfire burned with the same stories—raids, burned cabins, families gone missing. Dodge rode into it like a man chasing lightning.

Fort Madison in the Iowa Country

Fort Madison

They came up the river in the summer of 1808, sixty men, led by Lieutenant Alpha Kingsley, a thin, sunburned man with orders that looked clean on paper and smelled like death in the field. The Mississippi rolled brown and heavy beside them. Every splash of an oar felt like a signal. Every treeline whispered, don't stay.

 They built the fort anyway.

 

Logs hacked from the bluffs. Mud and sweat sealing the seams. The air thick with mosquitoes and dread. They called it Fort Madison, named for a president who’d never seen the place. The Sauk and Fox watched from the timberline. Quiet. Patient. 

 

Kingsley said the view was “commanding.” What he meant was exposed. There was a ridge behind the walls, a perfect perch for anyone wanting to shoot down at them. The men knew it. They built anyway, because that’s what soldiers do.

Battle of Credit Island War of 1812

Major Zachary Taylor

Black Hawk met with Lieutenant John Campbell of the 1st US Regiment of Infantry on July 18, 1814. Campbell reported that the Indians were friendly.  

Campbell said he met a party of Sac warriors carrying a white flag just below the Rock River Rapids. They invited him to Saukenuk for a council, so he traveled about four miles upstream to their village to meet with them.  

 There were maybe 150 warriors, plus their women and children. The chief (most likely Black Hawk) asked if he had presents for them. Campbell replied that he did if they went to war against the Peaus as promised. The chief said he’d made no such promise to his white father. “His father was drunk if he said so.” However, the chief agreed to attack the Peaus if Campbell supplied them with the necessary weapons. 

 Campbell stayed at Rock River for three days from July 28 to 31, then set off for Prairie du Chien. The soldiers didn’t travel more than six miles before hurricane-force winds grounded their boats. 

 The area they stopped at was covered in high grass, and hazel and willow bushes lined the shore for some distance. They weren’t there for more than a half-hour before the Indians attacked. Both sentinels Campbell posted died in the first fire. 

 The soldiers tried to get the boats off the shore, but the wind was too strong. Campbell ordered the men to defend themselves to the “last extremity,” and they did. The fighting lasted nearly two and a half hours.