Charles
E. Putnam was an early pioneer of Kossuth County and although he did not remain
a citizen for long, he spent three enjoyable years living with W. H. Ingham,
Andrew Seeley, and Thomas Covell in the Ingham cabin along Black Cat Creek. Putnam was born in New Hampshire in 1839 and
moved with his parents to Cedar Rapids when he was 15 years old. The very next year, 1855, he accompanied
Covell on an expedition to Kossuth County where he remained, enjoying frontier
life—hunting, fishing and living off the land.
In
1897 he responded to a request by Harvey Ingham to share his memories of an Indian
encampment in the county in the summer of 1855.
His response was published in the Upper Des Moines June 16, 1897 and was
later included in Harvey’s book, Old Indian Days. Putnam recounts those carefree days as
follows:
“Since receiving your letter of recent
date, asking about the movement of Indians in your county in the summer of
1855, I have endeavored to recall some of the incidents of my life as a pioneer
of Kossuth county. While I have an
indistinct recollection of a party of Indians camping on, or near Plum Creek
during the fall of 1855, the event is not clear enough in my mind to give any
particulars, for which you asked.
“I think it was that fall that a band of
Sioux came down from Minnesota, and deploying to cover as much territory as
possible, made a wide detour through Kossuth county, driving all the large game
ahead of them, expecting to round it up in southern Minnesota that they might
have game all winter. They went around
Algona, and about three or four miles southeast of town killed a buffalo. That night they built a large bonfire, and
called in all the braves; feasting, dancing, and pow-wowing being indulged in
the greatest part of the night. I think
that they remained the next day to give the squaws time to “jerk” the
meat. If Mr. King (David King) is still
with you he can tell who the parties were that visited the Indians and ordered
them to leave the county, and let the game remain; and he can also tell how
near he came to being a charge upon the county, when, the next day, he came
upon two Indians carrying off all the provisions in his cabin.
“It will be forty-two years on May 8
since I landed at the little old cabin, built by your father (William Ingham) and
Mr. Seeley (A. L. Seeley) on the Black Cat.
And while my life has seen many varied years since, I think those three
on the frontier were the happiest, because of youth, and the absence of all
care and responsibility. When I recall
the years so long ago, the memory of the incidents of that life so fills my
mind that it would, with elaboration, fill a book. But it is the memory of the home-life in that
little cabin which remains most distinctly in my mind. And while, of course, I remember in general
the movements of the Indians and the events which transpired, I was too young
to appreciate the fact that we were making history.
“The winter of ’55 Covell came to Cedar
Rapids for provisions, and when he returned with the supply of winter stores
there was a banquet at the Ingham cabin.
Covers were laid for four:
Ingham, Seeley, Covell, and myself.
Delmonico never spread such a feast; oysters and crackers, sardines and
cheese, corn bread with butter, and after all cigars. Could mortal man want more, especially after
having tasted nothing for three weeks but parched corn, ground in a coffee
mill, and made into something we called bread?
About midnight, while the meal was still in progress, being the kid, I
was requested to go for a pail of water.
As I approached the well—a hole in the ground a few rods from the
cabin—my hair bristled at the sounds of distress which came from the well. I rushed back to the cabin with the news that
somebody was drowning. An adjournment was
quickly declared, four would-be heroes going forth to the rescue. After an hour of very damp and slippery
labor, strong arms had raised Nellie, the pet elk—and the baby of our
household—from what might have been a watery grave. She was taken to the cabin fire, and, by
vigorous rubbing, her life was saved, only to end in a violent death the next
fall.
“Although Seeley was the acknowledged
chef of the Ingham hostelry, by a flash of culinary inspiration I made a
gooseberry pie that spring which was the beginning of Seeley’s downfall. After that triumph my wits turned kitchenward
and I was forever seeking new dishes in that land of wild meat and
cornbread. One day I went down to the
settlement and discovered Smith (Lewis H. Smith) making doughnuts. Could it be another Richard had come onto the
field! I beheld my new laurels tremble—I
must make doughnuts. I started home
formulating a recipe in my mind; it was certain that flour was the basis; then
the fat in which they were fried would make them short; then something to make
them light; molasses would furnish the sweetening; and a little cream of tartar
coming in contact with the molasses would create an effervescence, and surely
the deed was done. Luckily, no one was
in the cabin when I got home, and I set at once to work on my doughy problem. It
was the work of a few minutes to have the twisted beauties in the skillet of
hot lard, but they never grew light nor brown.
They were still pure and white and tough when in despair I buried them
in the ravine behind the hill. I found
out the next day that saleratus or yeast was the missing quantity that would
have made them light, and all that could be desired. The remains of that first batch, I have no
doubt, may still be found in the deep ravine back of the old cabin. And when the future scientist explores the
hills and valleys of old Black Cat he will undoubtedly discover fragmentary ore
that will trouble him to classify, or to tell whether it belongs to the
Paleozoic or to the Tertiary period.
“Craw and Linderman, who had built a
cabin over on the East Fork, about two miles from the Ingham claim,
occasionally made us a call, when we would send them home laden with game or
fish to enrich their scanty larder. It
was early in June when we told them if they would come over some night we would
give them all the fish that they could carry home. They responded one moonlight
evening when the fish were “running” well.
We all went down to the ford a few rods above the mouth of the creek. The water at the ford was shallow, and it was
difficult for the larger fish to pass over it.
Craw and Linderman were told to take off their boots, roll their pants,
and wade to the middle of the creek at the ford, while Seeley and myself went
below to drive the fish up stream. Armed
with sticks we went where the water was deep, and started toward the expectant
fishermen, striking the water with our sticks, driving everything before
us. When the school of fish, many of
them so large that they were half out of the water, came to the ford, Craw and
Linderman began the slaughter. Grabbing
them with their hands they excitedly threw them to the banks. Ingham, who laughed from a safe shelter,
afterwards declared that they threw the fish eighty feet in the air. We continued to thrash the water until we had
nearly drowned the poor fellows. Then
with their fish strung on withes and hanging from a pole, the happy fisherman,
drenched to the skin started home. And I
was afterwards told that they had fresh fish, and fish not so fresh, all
summer.
“Poor Craw, I wonder in what vineyard he
is working now. He was of a very
religious turn of mind, guileless and innocent of the world as a child. Once when he complained of the unreliability
of the weather prognostications of Ayer’s almanac, and was told that he must
not expect correct predictions of the weather in a country that had not been
surveyed, he accepted the explanation as good logic, and was never heard to
criticize the weather man again.”
At
the end of his stay here, Putnam moved back to his father’s farm west of Cedar
Rapids. He taught school while attending
Western college until the Civil War broke out.
He enlisted in Company G. Thirteenth Iowa infantry in September of 1861
and served with honor until he was mustered out November 2, 1864, having
attained the rank of Captain. An article giving a sketch of his successful
career was published in the Cedar Rapids Evening Gazette in 1892 and contained
the following tribute:
“Captain Putnam was a brave and gallant
soldier. He participated in all the
battles and campaigns of the army of Tennessee from Shiloh to Atlanta. He especially distinguished himself Oct. 3,
1862, at the battle of Corinth and in the official report was particularly
mentioned for his fearless service. He
was right in the hottest of the fight and his enthusiasm and thoughtlessness of
self did much toward keeping up the spirits of his men. In the battle of Atlanta the 13th
Iowa was in the thickest of that baptism of blood which lasted from noon until
7 o’clock, June 22, 1864, and out of 427 men present for duty, 247 were killed
or missing. During these seven hours Captain
Putnam fought bravely. He was in the
midst of the carnage, losing both his lieutenants, and out of the 42 men who
entered the battle but nine were left to answer at roll call. The balance, except four who were captured,
were either killed or wounded. Company G
also distinguished itself at Shiloh and Vicksburg. The regiment marched through Georgia to the
sea, and was the first to enter Columbia, S. C., and their colors were the
first to wave over the old southern capitol.
“Captain Putnam was considered a fine
officer, was a strict disciplinarian and loved by his men. By his manly, soldierly qualities he won
their hearts and always has retained their respect and friendship.”
After
the war, Putnam ran a mercantile for a few years and then was elected Linn
County recorder where he served four terms.
He then became cashier at Merchants’ National Bank where he was employed
for many years until being appointed a state bank examiner.
He
married Mary A. Fawcett on March 29, 1864 while home on furlough from the
army. Three children were born to the
couple, two of whom survived to adulthood.
Captain Putnam passed away May 23, 1913, at his home in Cedar Rapids
after a long battle with heart disease. His
funeral was held on the lawn of his residence with the minister speaking from
the front porch, and his body was then interred in Oak Hill Cemetery.
I think you would agree that an outdoor funeral seems a fitting tribute to
the young teen who so enjoyed his three years living the frontier life on the
prairies of Kossuth County.
Until
next time,
KC
History Buff
If you enjoyed this
post, please don’t forget to “like” and SHARE to Facebook. Not a Facebook
user? Sign up with your email address in the box on the right to have
each post sent directly to you.
Be sure to visit the
KCHB Facebook page for more interesting info about the history of Kossuth
County, Iowa.
Reminder: The posts on Kossuth County History Buff are ©2015-17 by
Jean Kramer. Please use the FB “share” feature instead of
cutting/pasting.
No comments:
Post a Comment