Dakota Diary 13 - More from Linda

Linda and Cora Sue and I went out to the large back yard, with some trees struggling to get big enough to give shade. Linda said we should sit on the porch swing, which we did, and she had a wicker chair she pulled up close to us.

“Maybe I should start out by telling you a bit about myself and my background. My maiden name was Linda Warfel, and I born in Ohio, in 1843 - so that makes me forty years old this year. I was really lucky to be able to go to College and graduated from Oberlin. Do you know where that is?”

“I know that it is in Ohio, and that it has a good music conservatory, because I was disappointed that we couldn’t afford for me to go there. I'm a concert pianist.”

“Are you now? Well, we must make sure we make use of your talents before you go. Would you be willing to put on a concert for us here?”

“Well, I suppose so, but I wouldn’t want to be the only one on the program.”

“We have a group of actors in town, and maybe we could get them to do a sketch of some sort.”

“Now, you were telling us about your background. Did you enjoy Oberlin?” put in Cora Sue.

“Oh, yes, it was marvelous. Oberlin College is a private, highly selective liberal arts college founded in 1833 by abolitionist Congregational Christians. So you can see, that from the beginning, I was convinced of the necessity for the slaves being freed, and that all minorities should be treated fairly. I have been a champion of the Negro and of the Indians for many years. Anyway, I was a committed  Christian, and decided that I wanted to go to Kentucky and Tennessee as a missionary to organize schools and churches for the freed slaves. And my other passion is writing. I managed to publish a book of poems, Early Efforts (which was reviewed by Godley's Lady's Book in 1868), and two other books called Summering in the South, and Freedmen of the South.”

“I’d love to read those.”

“So would I,” agreed Cora Sue.

“You can borrow them if you wish. Remind me before you leave. Anyway, backto my story. In 1868, shortly before I was to sail for India on missionary work, I met and fell in love with Dr. Benjamin Franklin Slaughter, an army surgeon. Frank, although from an established southern family, had joined the Union Army when he finished medical school in Kentucky and stayed in the army following the Civil War. After our marriage, we were ordered first to Ft. Rice in 1871 and then, in 1872, further up the Missouri River to Camp Hancock, which was to become Bismarck. Before that it was called Edmonton, after a railway magnate, but they thought that Baron von Bismarck might cough up some cash if they named it after him. I don’t think he ever did, though.

“I can safely say that the first big party ever celebrated in what was then called Bismarck was to celebrate our 4th anniversary. I can even remember what we had to eat - Champagne and buffalo tongue sandwiches. And there was dancing, I remember. Anyway, we had our three daughters, and then I decided I needed to keep on with my missionary work. So although we were still living in a tent, (Camp Hancock was established in 1872 and originally named Camp Greeley in honor of
Horace Greeley, editor of the New York Times and originator of the saying 'Go west, young man.' In 1873 it was renamed Camp Hancock after the commander of the Department of Dakota, Major General Winfield Hancock. The purpose of the camp until 77 was to house soldiers to protect supplies and the workers laying the tracks for the Northern Pacific Railroad.) I started Bismarck's first Sunday school in 72; in 73, I opened the Bismarck Academy, the public school. We held it at the Congregational Church on 5thth Street and Thayer. My sister, Aide, was one of the teachers. That same year, I was appointed Deputy Superintendent of Public Instruction. It is funny that I was voted in, because women were not allowed to vote, so it showed that I wasn’t making use of the fact that I was a woman to get elected. I then became Bismarck's first postmistress, (and it was during that period that I worked with your dad, but I will come to that in time.)

“And of course we didn’t still live in a tent by then. Frank had finished as post surgeon at Camp Hancock, and he set up his office in the Pioneer Drug Store Building.”

“That's where Mr. Dunn has his office.”

“He does now, but when your dad knew him, he had a log cabin for his pharmacy, but that burned down later that year.”

“Sorry I interrupted you. Please go on.”

 She smiled, “I continued to write, sometimes for the Bismarck Daily Tribune, sometimes under the name "Cezula" ("The Squaw Who Helps") which had been given to me by Indian women near Ft.
Rice whom I helped when I accompanied my husband in his treatment of wounded Indians. Among my writings are a series of letters, "The Dolly Varden Letters," for the St. Paul Daily Pioneer, and a
series of pamphlets for the Northern Pacific Railroad describing life in the Dakota Territory.

“So now going back to the 1870’s. I was the first post mistress. But after awhile I realized that women weren’t eligible to hold a bond for that position, so I had to become deputy postmaster, while I was doing all the work, while my husband Frank held the official title. But then six months later, the law changed, and I became the postmistress in my own right.

“And now I have a funny story to tell you. A military carrier brought the mail westward for both the army and the civilians. The custom had been for the mail-bags to be delivered to me, in Bismarck. There I would unlock the bags and remove the mail for Bismarck and the other military river posts. The mail for Fort Abraham Lincoln was then taken across the river in the unlocked bags.

“In the spring of 1873, a new commanding officer, General Custer, took charge at Fort Lincoln. The first mail, brought by the military carrier, was immediately taken to his headquarters. The mailbags were locked so he sent his orderly to my house for the key. The key was handed over with a request that the key and the rest of the mail be returned as soon as possible. The mail was returned the next day, but was hopelessly muddled. Bundles for Bismarck, for Fort Rice, Fort Stevenson, Fort Berthold and Fort Buford had been untied and totally mixed up. I was not pleased!

“The mail for the other Forts was heavy and plentiful and it took me some time to sort out the mess. News of the mess that the mail was in had reached the citizens of Bismarck and their patience was sorely tested. I requested my key be returned, but Custer refused. In a letter, I pointed out that postal regulations required the key to remain with me. I had 'lent' him the key out of respect for his
position and 'trusted to his honor as an officer to return it.' The key was returned. However, during the next mail delivery a sergeant called for the key on the orders of Custer. I refused, asking first for a written guarantee that it would be returned. Custer was not impressed with this request and angrily tore open the mail-sack with a knife. The next day the mutilated sack was returned to me, together
with the rest of the jumbled mail. I am not somebody to be trifled with. I sent the mail-bag to Washington D.C. with an explanation of its damage. The postal authorities complained to General Sheridan himself, who only laughed. After that, each time the sergeant called, I was compelled to unlock the mail-bags, which were then taken on to Fort Lincoln intact. The mail for Bismarck and the other river forts was delayed and returned in a disorderly state. I encouraged the dissatisfaction to be expressed by the commanding officers of the other army forts for the delay to their mail. The citizens of Bismarck were equally unhappy. I wrote to General Hazen and asked for his help. I also wrote to the postmaster general.

“I asked that the mail for Fort Lincoln be sent separately from the mail for Bismarck and the other forts in the area. This request was granted. The next mail delivery saw the sergeant arrive with two
separate mail-bags. The smaller bag was addressed to Fort Lincoln, while the larger bag, containing the mail for Bismarck and Forts Rice, Berthold and Stevenson was addressed to the Bismarck Post
Office. The sergeant handed both bags to me through the post office window to be unlocked. He was most upset when I only returned one of the bags. The concerned sergeant asked me to write a note confirming my intention to keep the mail-bag, absolving him from responsibility.

“How pleased I was to write that letter to Custer. In it I stated that from now on I had made arrangements for the mail to his post to be carried separately. Custer was absolutely furious and declared that his military carriers would no longer carry mail for the citizens of Bismarck. However, this had been anticipated and General Hazen at Ford Burford and others had sent complaints to army headquarters. The military carriers were directed that the mail for Bismarck and the
other forts should be directed to the Bismarck Post Office.”

We were feeling the heat a bit, and we still hadn’t got to the place in her story which related to Pa. She asked if we would like a drink of lemonade.

“Oh, that would be lovely,” we both said.

“I’m afraid that lemonade is as strong a beverage as you will get when you visit my house,” she added. “I belong to the temperance union, and have found that alcohol causes a great number of the major problems in the world today. I don’t want to be responsible for making that any worse.”

I reminded her, after we had sipped our lemonade, that she hadn’t yet told the story about how she had worked with Pa.

"Well,” she said, “this is going back to 1875. You might remember that there was a suggestion of dishonesty going on at Fort Berthold Indian Agency. It turned out that appointments as traders at military and Indian posts were being bought from the Secretary of State. And the New York Herald sent out a reporter (no, not your father) who was incognito, this man was called Ralph Meeker, and he succeeded in exposing the dishonesty prevalent at almost all of the Missouri River posts. He took on a laboring job on a farm, and then he sent letters here to me, under cover, for me to send on. He barely escaped with his life when his identity was discovered. But he returned again and succeeded in completing his investigation. Secretary of War, William Belknap was impeached on a charge of bribery, and resigned, but was later acquitted.

“When my part in this was found out, I was removed from my job. But then, local people got up a petition, and about 200 signed it, including your father, and it was sent off to Washington. I was reinstated, but then a few months later, I resigned anyway, because that was when I got the job as School Superintendent. And do you know who got the job after me? Colonel Lounsberry. I guess he needed the money. The Bismarck Daily Tribune never did make him much money, and this paid a
sure $750 a year.

“It turned out that your father, although he wasn’t the person who got into the fort to find out what happened, had a lot of information and fed that information to the appropriate sources. He told me, and others, what he knew, and that helped us expose the fraud. Of course, Custer almost lost his job as a result of it - and maybe it would have better for him if he had. Better to lose a job than lose your life.”

 So now we knew what Linda and our father had in common - investigating a fraud that was used against the Indians. It was good to know for a fact that our father wasn’t the Indian hater that he was sometimes portrayed to be.

Linda’s children came back, (photo above of family) and as it was nearly time for their supper, we made ourselves scarce and got back to the hotel to try to absorb all that we had found out.