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CHARLES WEITZ
 I CANNOT avoid mention in these reminiscences of old-timers of friend Weitz, who, from his genial nature, good humor, and sociability, was known as "Charley" by everybody in the early days.
He was born in Schotten Germany, about thirty miles from the city of Frankfurt, in Hesse-Darmstadty, May Fourth, 1826. His father, Heinrich Weitz, was born in the same locality, and spent his entire life there. The son, Charles, one of four children, attended school until he was fourteen years of age, and was then apprenticed to a cabinet-maker, with whom he remained for two years. At the termination of this apprenticeship, he took his future entirely in his own hands, and started out full of ambition and vigor, to increase his knowledge by visiting most large cities in Germany, France, and Switzerland. He not only added this to his equipment for success in his chosen vocation, but also developed a broader mental culture, an ambition characteristic of his entire life. He learned to speak French and English fluently as he did his native tongue. In 1847, he was drafted into the army, and served two years during the War of 1848. In 1850, he determined to visit the New World, so in the Spring of that year, he and his brother, Christian, sailed for New York. There he remained but a short time, coming west to Ashland, then to Columbus, Ohio, where he began to work at his trade in earnest. A chance newspaper item caught his eye, telling of the removal of the Capital of Iowa from Iowa City to Des Moines. He concluded that the Capital of Iowa would be a good place to plant himself and grow up with the country. Accordingly, he sailed into Des Moines, early in 1855, in a prairie schooner, propelled by two mules, so he says, crossing Des Moines River on "Aleck" Scott's flat-boat, there being no bridges. His first move was to find a place to live. Houses were scarce, and most of them contained two or more families.
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Being a carpenter, he decided to build a house for himself, and meanwhile domiciled as best he could. He purchased a lot on the corner of what is now Eighth and Pleasant streets, for which he paid five hundred dollars, a big price at that time for so isolated a spot, but he wanted to live in the shadow of the State House, which was to be placed on Grimmel's Hill. He didn't know the East Siders as well as he does now.
The lot secured, the next move was for lumber, of which there was none in town. He went down the river several miles selected and bought trees, had them cut down, sawed into lumber at Newcomer's mill, hauled it here, and built a small one-story house of two rooms. He had got it enclosed when, about the middle of May, Dan Vieser, a cabinet-maker, well known in early days, made his appearance in search of a job and place to live. So soon as he got across the river, he accost the first man he met, which was down near Second Street, with:
"Can you tell me where 'Charley' Weitz lives?"
"Do you see that small new house away out yonder in the grubs, on the side hill? That's his house," was the answer.
Dan. was not long in reaching it, and making known to "Charley" his wants.
Early settlers were hospitable and kind. There was not much refinement, but there was generosity, good fellowship, and community of interest which prompted them to help each other. So "Charley" offered Dan and his wife half of his house, and to feed them until they could get a better place.
There being no machinery here for making what is called "matched flooring," loose boards were laid to set the stove on, a few others on which to set a dry goods box, used for a table, also for a cupboard, which, when the meal was over, was pushed into a corner and the boards shifted about to set the bed on. Seats were improvised from whatever was handy. The walls were not plastered. The lumber was green and filled with sap. It so shrunk in drying that when the Winter storms came, the snow drifted in, so that it was often necessary to turn out in the night and move the bed and the floor, repeating the process if the wind shifted, or sleep under a snow-drift. One night Dan. turned out, stepped on the loose end of a board, which tipped up, landing him in the cellar.
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In due time, came an increase in "Charley's" family, and more space was required. The small house was removed, and a larger one, of two stories, erected to accommodate his seven kids. It was sufficient for several years, but was removed and the present elegant and modern residence erected.
"Charley's" second objective point after landing was bread and butter. HIs first job was putting the windows in the basement of the Savery House (now the Kirkwood), which the genial host of that hostelry may be pleased to know was first used for cutting, curing and packing pork.
"Charley" had difficulty in getting work to do. For some reason, the bosses would not employ him. He therefore decided to be his own boss. His first contract was to build a drug store down near 'Coon Point, on Second Street. I twas built, with all its inside fittings, of black walnut lumber. He thus became the first building contractor in the town. His merit as a mechanic, integrity and good fellowship soon secured him abundant business, and for many years he has been one of the largest contractors in the city.
Among the most notable buildings to his credit that I can recall are the Catholic Church, on Sixth Avenue, in 1856, where the Pitcairn Block is now; the German Catholic Church, on Second Street; the Hawthorne School building (now Olive McHenry), Seventeenth and Crocker streets; Garfield School Building, on Third Street; Valley National Bank; the original Good Block; Rollins Block; Masonic Temple; Des Moines National Bank; Younker's store and Harris-Emery Company's store, on Walnut Street; the hospital at the County Poor Farm; Kratzer Carriage Works; Brown-Hurley six-story building, on First Street; J. I. Case farm implement building; Schmitt & Henry Furniture Factory, and the Fair Grounds Stock Pavillion, and residences by the hundreds.
During the first five years, though there was great demand for building, money was scarce, and that in circulation was mostly of the Eastern, "red-dog" variety, and Stevens' Agricultural Bank of Tennessee, a villainous "wild-cat," which went bankrupt in 1857, leaving "Charley" to hold its notes for a large amount.
Nearly all business was done on credit. Mechanics of all kinds were paid in orders on stores, which they were glad to get. In
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1859, "Charley" employed ten men who, with himself, worked the whole year, for which he only received cash, four dollars.
But living expenses were cheap then. A good carpenter got a dollar and a half a day——the days were longer than they are now. Pork spare ribs were two cents a pound; hogs, seventy-five cents per hundred pounds. A good two-hundred-pound hog could be bought for two dollars and a half. the rivers abounded with fish, and the country with wild game. The staple food was corn meal, pork and bacon. The good housewife's pastry exploiting was limited to dried-apple pies, except in the season of wild berries and crab-apples. Everybody lived within their means, was independent, and happy.
As the year passed, "Charley's" businesss increased. He also invested in town lots, and became interested in civic affairs. His jolly temperament, honesty and strict integrity won him prominence in business circles. For many years, he has been a stock-holder and Director of the Valley National Bank and Valley Savings Bank; also a stockholder of the German Savings Bank, of which he is the President.
During the scrimmage between the East and West sides over the location of the State House, in 1856, he was a West Sider, firmly believing the State House would be placed on Grimmel's Hill, and thus he had selected his lot for a home; but you could not buy it to-day for twenty thousand dollars.
In 1857, when the Lutheran Church, of which he and his family are active members, made an effort to establish a denominational college here, he was a liberal subscriber to the building fund, always taking great interest in educational affairs.
When the Civil War broke out, and regiments were being organized here, General Williamson appointed him to drill several companies of recruits. His experience gained in the German Army made his services especially valuable in putting the boys through their stunts. He knew more military tactics than the Colonels and other shoulder-strappers.
In 1886, he was induced to run for Alderman-at-Large in the City Council. He was elected and served two terms, which satisfied him with public office-holding. Though a Democrat, in a
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strong Republican community, the property holders wanted the benefit of his common-sense and good judgment at a time when extensive public improvements were before the people. In the anxiety and haste to get out of the mud, the city had, a few years prior, paved several streets with cedar blocks, which made a very smooth roadway, pleasing to the eye, but deceptive to traffic. They soon became defective, rotted at the bottom from accumulated moisture, and emitted an unhealthful, obnoxious gas, compared with which the perfume of rotten eggs was delectable. It was evident that a more durable material must be substituted. The development of the brick industry had produced a hard-burned brick, and "Charley," in his practical way, took up the subject with the City Council and suggested the use of such brick for street paving. It was adopted, since when cedar blocks have become putrid reminiscence. The last of them, on East Seventh Street, having become so rotten as to be impassable, were removed a year ago.
In May, 1904, at the age of eighty-one, "Charley" turned over his business to his sons and decided to spend the remainder of his days on Easy Street, and enjoy the fruition of his good works in the town he had helped so conspicuously to build.
In looking over its records recently, Jonathan Lodge, Number One Hundred and Thirty-seven, Independent Order of Odd Fellows, discovered the fact that its oldest member, Charles Weitz, had been loyal to the lodge for fifty years. A half century of lodge loyalty merited some appropriate reward, so it was proposed that the lodge celebrate the event in fitting manner.
On the evening of October Sixth, 1856, "Charley" was initiated into the Order of Odd Fellows, in Fort Des Moines Lodge Number Twenty-five, and remained with that lodge until he organized the German Lodge, Jonathan, Number One Hundred and Thirty-seven, of which he is now the only living charter member.
His efforts for the fostering and preserving the German thought, culture and refinement were so constant and so successful that the lodge, in remembering the anniversary, voted to honor him with the most elegant jewel that could be secured by them. The jewel was authorized by the Grand Master of the Sovereign Grand Lodge, and was made in Baltimore. It is the most elegant medal ever
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made for a lodge celebration, and is enclosed in a beautiful case. Owing to "Charley's" feeble health, the ceremonies could not be held in the hall, with a joint meeting of the two lodges, as was planned, but was conducted by a committee of members at the comodious residence on Eighth and Pleasant streets. In a touching and appropriate speech, Colonel Eiboeck presented the medal and expressed the respect and regards of both lodges. "Charley" was most happy in accepting the medal, and with his hearty thanks expressed a hope that he would be able to attend another meeting at the lodge room.
The shadows of the coming night are gathering about him, and he is prepared therefor. His life in Des Moines has been characterized by sturdiness, honesty, sagacity, integrity, fair dealing in all his private and public affairs, zeal in the upbuilding of his adopted home by all the means tending to make it one of homes——characteristics which have won the most reverent affection of his family, honor and respect of his fellow-citizens, and esteem of everybody. No pioneer of Des Moines will leave to posterity a more notable testimonial of his having lived than will "Charley" Weitz.*
April Second, 1905
*Died November Tenth, 1906.
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WILLIAM F. AYERS
ONE of the earliest settlers at The Fort was William Ayers, who came in 1845, when the soldiers were here. He was a tailor and made clothing for the troopers and early settlers. Judge Casady and Barlow Granger say he made better clothing than can be got nowadays. It may not have been quite up to the Paris fashions, but it was made to wear, and was equal to the fashion of the pioneers.
At the county organization election, on April Sixth, 1846, he was elected County Treasurer, t serve until the regular election in August following. The treasury was not overburdened at that time. It abounded largely in expectations. The county officials got no pay for services, for there was no revenue except the fees for licenses to keep grocery, and the sale of lots, a settlement of which was made in October, when it was found there was $2,233.59 in the treasury, of which one hundred and forty-five dollars was allowed as expenses for surveying and platting the original town. The taxes assessed that year for the entire county amounted to three hundred and fourteen dollars and fourteen cents. One man, G. B. Clark, made the assessment for the whole county, for which he was allowed thirty dollars.
At that April election, three County Commissioners were elected——W. H. Meacham, Benjamin Saylor, and E. W. Fouts——who had control of all county affairs. At the second meeting of the Commissioners, in May, the took dinner with Ayers——there was no taverns, and they "boarded around," as it were. During the dinner hour, they discussed county affairs. The garrison was then known as Fort Raccoon, a name they did not like; it was not dignified enough for a town that would be the capital of the state. It would be called "Coontown," and its people "Coons." They decided to change it to Fort Des Moines, after the larger and more pretentious river, and it was so ordered.
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During the year 1845, it became quite certain the Capital would be removed to a more central point in the state. Speculation at once arose as to the probable location. Polk County and Fort Des Moines were ambitious, and there were others. J. B. Saylor, and active, influential man, had started a town about four miles up Des Moines River, which he was booming briskly. It bid fair to outrank The Fort, and to this he added the very forceful claim that it was the nearest the center of the county——that The Fort was away off on one side, an argument that could not be abjured. Ayers, wide awake to public affairs and politics, decided to take a hand in the game. He went to Oskaloosa, got a surveyor to come and make measurements, who found The Fort to be about four miles south and east of the county center. Something must be done. The possibility of Saylorville must be put beyond peradventure. Judge Casady, who represented the county in the Legislature, was appealed to. He promptly responded by preparing a bill to set off a tier of townships from Jasper County on the east, and also from what was to be Warren County on the south, and attach them to Polk County. Ayers gathered several friends one day into his lumber wagon and took them to Iowa City to help the Judge. It was in mid-Winter, the temperature below zero, and it was a trip requiring fortitude and public spirit. The bill passed, the county was "squared," The Fort was made the "Seat of Justice." The sequestration of the strips from Jasper and Warren having served its purpose, they were, by legislative magnanimity, returned to their original place, and The Fort went on her way rejoicing.
While this movement was going on, William McKay, a lawyer, who subsequently became a Judge, received a tip from Iowa City that The Fort would be selected as the Seat of Government. He took Ayers into his confidence, who at once made a claim for one hundred and sixty acres lying west of Eighth Street and south of Sycamore (now Grand Avenue), which he was to divide with McKay. He went one night, during a severe rainstorm, to blaze the trees and set the stakes on the lines of his claim. Perry Crossman, the first County Clerk, but Ayers cut some logs from the timber further west and hauled them to the spot
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selected for his cabin, about where Teachout's icemaking plant is. The following night, Crossman's men came and cut up the logs. Ayers hauled more logs, put up a tent, and placed his son, Guy, a robust lad of sixteen years, who is still on duty in the city, to guard it. Crossman's men again appeared and pulled down the tent, when Guy, with hatchet in hand, declared that the first man who touched a log would get the hatchet. One fellow, with a sneer at the boy's bravado, seized a log, and he got the hatchet in his thigh, whereupon the gang retired. Crossman then sold his claim rights to James Campbell, a well-known doctor in the early days. During the contention, the Old Settlers' Association took a part, for conciliatory purposes, and a compromise was made by which Campbell and Ayers each took eighty acres. Ayers then sold to Doctor P. B. Fagen two acres of his claim near Eighth and Mulberry streets, on which he erected a two-story frame dwelling-house, facing south, and it is there now. Ayers fenced, with rails split from the cabin logs, twenty acres, and planted them with corn. Subsequently, after dividing with McKay, he sold his claim rights to Doctor Fagen for nine hundred dollars, and entered at the Government Land Office fifty acres, which included Horseshoe Lake, on the bottoms along 'Coon River, a spot which subsequently became historic.
The second, really the first, County Agricultural Fair was held thereon, in October, 1853. For several years, it was used for annual Fairs of the Polk County Association and the Central Iowa District Association, but subsequently passed to the Des Moines Driving Park Association, who purchased seventy acres surrounding the lake and along the river and fitted them up with a splendid half-mile track, amphitheater, floral, fine art and agricultural halls, skating rink, buildings, stands, stalls, dwellings, barns, etc., and for many years it was the favorite resort for fairs, cattle and horse shows, picnics, and other social events. The noted trotting stallion, Rarus, once gave an exhibit of his then wonderful speed against time in the presence of an immense crowd. His stride of twenty-two feet forced him to keep the outside of the track clear around the course. The track was in fine condition, and he beat his record on a half-mile track. Floods and high water finally caused its
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abandonment, and now the Chicago Great Western Railroad, and the city dump, have buried in oblivion what was once a beautiful place.
In 1847, Ayers was active in organizing what became the Old Settlers' Claim Club, whose regulations embodied the idea of giving every man a fair deal. There then being no form of local government in existence, the old settlers resolved to become a law unto themselves, for protection against claim jumpers, horse thieves, and land grabbers, and they governed wisely and well.
In 1848, with the nine hundred dollars raised from Fagen, Ayers purchased seven hundred and twenty acres in Jefferson Township, which he greatly improved, and which has been known for many years as "Ayers' Grove."
In 1855, Ayers built his first house. It was a two-story frame, and formed a part of what is now the Benedictine Home, which was built around it.
In the Fall of 1855, he bought the Griffith & Stanton sawmill, on the East River at the foot of North Street (now University Avenue), he owning timber land along the river. It was the first steam circular sawmill in the town. Its capacity was four thousand feet per day. The logs were cut along the river and floated to the mill. Sometimes the rafts reached as far as Thompson's Bend. Black Walnut lumber was worth three dollars per hundred feet, and a dollar and a quarter in the log at the mill.
In 1856, in the contest between the East and West Side over the location of the State House, Ayers was a West Sider. He deemed it nonsense to put the Capital "away off in the country, in the woods," and he affirmed his conviction by subscribing five thousand dollars to the fund to secure its location on the West Side, but the East Siders had something more tangible than paper promises to give the locating Commissioners, and got the prize. It was a big "scoop."
In 1856, Scribner & Farnham had a portable steam sawmill south of Market Square, on the bottoms, near the 'Coon. The logs were cut on the elevation, and rolled down to the mill.
In 1856, Ayers, with his son, Guy, built a large steam flour mill, where now is the power house of the Edison Light Company. The
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boiler and all machinery were brought from Mount Vernon, Ohio. Its capacity was three hundred bushels of wheat per day. It cost sixteen thousand dollars. The coal used for fuel was tunneled out from the bluffs along the river.
When the mill was ready for business, Guy went over the county for wheat. The first contract he made was with a widow named Boone, for four hundred bushels for future delivery, at one dollar per bushel in gold. She refused a written agreement, saying her word was good enough. Before the season closed, Guy paid two dollars per bushel, but the widow delivered her wheat as she agreed. That was the way old settlers did business——they had faith in one another.
In 1857 came the hard times. The country was flooded with notes of "wild-cat," rotten banks. Gold was scarce. There was no silver. Bankruptcy threatened every business. Lot owners could not sell enough to pay their taxes. All building stopped. The best walnut lumber could not be got at any price. On the mill property was a mortgage drawing interest at two per cent a month. The panic forced a foreclosure of it, with great loss to Ayers, and soon after the mill was destroyed by fire.
Religiously, Ayers was an Episcopalian. He was one of the vestrymen of the First Episcopal Church, and held the place many years.
Politically, he was a Whig, and ardent supporter of John C. Fremont for President, but during the Kansas Free State contest, was opposed to the John Brown-negro-underground-emigration scheme, and took no part in it. Though an active politician, he was not a place-seeker, the first county treasurership being the only public office he held.
He was a true type of the pioneer of that day. Of kindly, genial impulses, honest, public-spirited and progressive, he was prominent in public affairs during the formative period of the county and town. He died in January, 1867.
April Ninth, 1905.
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DES MOINES——WHAT IT MEANS
MUCH has been written as to the origin and meaning of the name, "Des Moines." That it is from the French, and means "The Monks" is true. That the city was named from the river is also true. As there were never any monks in Iowa, it is evident the name is a mis-application, or a corruption. The river was discovered by Pére Marquette and M. Jollyet, in 1673.
John Dawson Gilmary Shea (1852), the eminent author of "Histories of Catholic Missions Among Indian Tribes," "Explorations of the Mississippi," "History of the Catholic Church of the United States," in his "History of the Life and Explorations of Marquette," gives the narrative of Marquette in English, as translated by Father Claudius Dablon, Superior of the Mission of the Society of Jesuits at Quebec, of which Marquette was a member, and also in French, as Marquette wrote it.
Marquette was commissioned by Frontenac, Governor General of New France, as the whole northwest part of North America was then called, to explore the Mississippi River. He was also commissioned by his superior, Father Dablon, to establish Missions among the Indians. With him went Jollyet, also a Jesuit, and member of the Society. They went up Fox River, from Green Bay to a village of Miamis, at a point where Portage now is, then crossed over to the Wisconsin River, thence down that stream, and on the Seventeenth of June floated out into the Mississippi, the first white men to see Iowa. In his narrative of the expedition, he says:
"We set out in two bark canoes, M. Jollyet [so Marquette wrote it] and myself and five men, firmly resolved to do all and suffer all for so glorious an enterprise.
"It was on the seventeenth of May, 1673, that we started from the Mission at Michilimacinac.
"We advanced constantly, but as we did not know where we were going, having made more than one hundred leagues without
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having discovered anything but beasts and birds, we kept well on our guard. We made only a little fire on the shore at night to prepare our meals, and after supper kept off shore, passing the night in our canoes.
"Proceeding south and southwest, we find ourselves at forty-one degrees north, and then at forty degrees and some minutes, partly by southeast and partly by southwest, after having advanced more than sixty leagues without having discovered anything.
"At last, on June Twenty-fifth, we perceived the footprints of men by the water side, and a beaten path entering a prairie. We stopped to examine it, and concluded it was a path leading to some Indian village. We resolved to go and reconnoiter. We accordingly left our two canoes in charge of our people, cautioning them to beware of a surprise; then M. Jollyet and I undertook this rather hazardous discovery for two single men, who thus put themselves at the discretion of an unknown and barbarous people. We followed the little path in silence, and, having advanced about two leagues, we discovered a village on the banks of the river, and two others on a hill half a league from the former. We passed on and heard the Indians talking. We announced ourselves by a cry with all our strength. At this, the Indians rushed out of their cabins, and, seeing we were but two, they deputed four old men to come and speak with us. Two carried tobacco pipes trimmed with many feathers. They were a long time coming a little way. I spoke first, and asked who they were. They replied, 'We are Illini.'"
The narrative then relates their visit with the Indians, who received them graciously. After six days, on departing, the head chief addressed them, saying:
"I thank thee, Black Gown, and thee, Frenchman [to Jollyet] [Je te rémercie Robe noire, et toi Francaise s'addressment a M. Jollyet ], for taking so much pains to visit us; never has the earth been so beautiful, nor the sun so bright as to-day; never has the river been so calm nor so free from rocks, which your canoes have removed as they passed; never has our tobacco had so fine a flavor, nor our corn appeared so beautiful as we behold it to-day."
Placing his hand on the head of a little Indian boy, he said:
"Here is my son, whom I give to you to show you my heart. I pray you have pity on me and my nation. It is you who know the
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Great Spirit who made us all. It is you who speak to Him, and know His word. Ask Him to give us life and health, and come and live with us."
Marquette promised to return in four months. A big feast followed, at which dog flesh was served, the highest token of esteem an Indian could offer. Marquette was presented with an elaborately ornamented calumet, or peace pipe, which he was told would assure him welcome and safety among Indians wherever he went.
When they departed, six hundred persons went with them to their canoes. They then resumed their journey down the river to Arkansas River, where they decided to go no farther, but return to Canada. On reaching the River des Illini (now Illinois), they learned from the Indians of shorter route. They therefore went up the Illini to a point near the River des Plaines, crossed over to the latter, thence down the latter to its entrance into Lake Michigan. They went by slow degrees, visiting Indian villages along the way.
Arriving at the lake, they separated, Marquette to return to his mission along the Hurons, and Jollyet to Quebec, to report to the Government. Marquette built a cabin at the mouth of the des Plaines, established a Mission at Le Vantam, and for a year or more preached to the Indians and visited their villages. In May, 1675, sick from exposure in the swamps and lowlands in that section, with two companions, he started up Lake Michigan for Saint Ignace. He soon became prostrated, and a few days later motioned to land. A cabin was hastily prepared, a bed of pine boughs made, and he was tenderly removed thereto, but he rapidly grew worse, and on the Eighteenth passed to his rest. His body was enshrouded in birch bark and buried in the sand, near what is now the mouth of Marquette River. Two years later, friendly Indians removed his remains to Saint Ignace, and in 1877, on the site of the old Saint Ignace Mission Church, descendants of French and Indians erected a monument in memory of him.
Jollyet started on his trip to Quebec. When going down Saint Lawrence Rapids, his canoe capsized and all its contents were lost, together with the little Indian boy, Jollyet barely escaped with his life. Subsequently, he made his report of the expedition from memory, but it was very incomplete and never given to the public.
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Other explorers soon followed Marquette and made their reports. Meanwhile, Marquette's narrative lay in the archives of Father Dablon's college, Frontenac, the Governor of New France, having become involved with the Jesuits and Church authorities over the sale of liquor to the Indians, the Church opposing it. He suppressed publication of the narrative, and it would have remained in oblivion had not Dablon and Thevenot, a distinguished French traveler and author, in 1681, discovered it and arranged for its publication.
A few years later, Canada fell into the hands of England, the Jesuits were condemned and ostracised, and the college at Quebec ordered closed, but before its close, Father Cazot, desiring to save some valuable church records and objects, gathered them together and deposited them in Hotel Dieu, a hospital in Quebec, in care of nuns not embraced in the edict against the Jesuits, and among them was the original narrative of Marquette. In 1852, the narrative was delivered by the nuns to Mr. Shea, who says:
"The manuscript comprised sixty pages, thirty-seven of which were a narrative of the voyage down the Mississippi River, from the mouth of the Wisconsin River, one leaf to the calumet presented to Marquette, all in Marquette's handwriting. There was also a map charted by Marquette, on which is shown, in latitude about forty, a river. Near its mouth is inscribed two Indian villages, one 'Moingowena', the other 'Peowereia.' The distance and circumstances give good reason to believe the river is now the Des Moines."
Other explorers and travelers followed Marquette——La Salle, 1679; Hennepin, 1680; Franquelin, 1688; Charlevoix, 1721; Sinex Map of North America, 1710; l'Isle Louisiana and Mississippi Map, 1722; all follow the nomenclature of Marquette except Franquelin, who wrote it "Moingoana."
Father Kemper, in his "History of the Catholic Church of Iowa," says:
"In the Spring of the year 1720, the Capuchin, Pére Le Grand, drafted for the Capuchin Monastery at Dijon, a terrestrial globe, which is now preserved in the public library of Dijon, in France, on which the Mississippi, Missouri, Illinois, Des Moines, and Saint
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Peter rivers are plainly marked, and special prominence is give to the Des Moines River, which there has the name of 'R. des Moiongona'——River of the Moingonas. From this Indian tribe, the present name of the river has its dervation, and not as some have presumed, from 'R. des Moines'——River of the Monks.
"Tradition speaks of the Indian custom, from ages immemorial, of using a path from the Des Moines Rapids on the Mississippi westward, and the very name of the people of this river has reference to this Indian highway, the Moingona, signifying 'The People by the Way.' When the early settlers took possession of the land, they could yet see plain evidences of this Indian trail leading to the Des Moines and beyond it to the west. It must have been at some former period a great thoroughfare, as it was worn in many places on level ground for miles, six inches in depth."
In Biddle's revised report of "Lewis and Clark's Expedition," is a marginal note saying that "Moingona" is an old word of Algonquin origin; it does not mean "The Monks."
Adair's "American Indians" gives the word, "Moingona."
Charlevoix, a noted French traveler, historian, and Jesuit, came over from France, stopped at the Kaskaskian Mission nearly two years, where he must have learned much of Marquette and his work, for, in 1721, he traversed the river from its mouth to its source, and in his "History of New France," as all northwestern America was then called, he wrote:
"The Moingona issues from the midst of an immense meadow, which swarms with buffalo and other wild beasts. Its course is said to be three hundred and fifty leagues in length. It rises from a lake. Going up the Moingona, we find great quantities of pit coal."
Nicolleét, in his report to the United States Government, explaining his "Hydrographic Map of the Mississippi Basin," gives the name "Moingoana," but says it is a corruption of the Algonquin work "Mikoning."
Winterbottom, in 1795, charted it "Moin;" Bertram's map charts it "les Monk."
Here, then, we have this name given by Marquette, used and recognized by explorers, historians, and chartists for more than one
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hundred and fifty years. They were all Frenchmen, and good scholars; not one says it means "The Monks;" most of them declare it does not.
Then, what does it mean? Maruette did not give it. He probably would have done so hand he not died before completing his mission. His report was compiled for the Government from his notes by Thevenot, six years after his death.
Thirty years ago, I asked the old chief of the remnant of the Sauk and Fox tribes at Tama, a man over ninety years old, the meaning of the word, and he did not know; it was not his language.
The best source of information now, therefore, is the language used by the Indians whom Marquette met. They spoke a dialect of the Algonquin. They were descendants of the once noted Mascotins, or Fire Indians, who dwelt around Lake Michigan and along Illinois River.
Schoolcraft, who traveled and lived with these Indians several years, in his "Archives of the Aborigines," Volume Three, gives an extensive analysis of the language. He says:
"It is composed largely of pronouns, confined principally to inanimate things; also cluster words, every one of which is a sentence or affirmation. A word often is interpreted variously by a sign or gesture when spoken."
His list of key words gives "moin," meaning corn; "gon," meaning land or place; "na," meaning excellent, good, always. From this, it is a fair presumption that the word written by Marquette, as best he could in French, as spoken by the Indians, is a cluster word meaning "a good place to raise corn——to live," and agrees with the sentiment expressed by the Indians to Marquette. It is not a French word.
Now, then, how came the change to "Des Moines?"
Nicollét explains it by saying that, "The territory west of the Mississippi was all under the dominion of Spain, and all traffic or trade was that of agents, Spanish and French, of the American Fur Company, who traveled up and down the rivers, trading with the Indians, and, finding it difficult to speak the word 'Moingona,' they clipped it to 'De Mon,' 'De Mong,' etc. The Creoles did the
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same. They now do so. They say, 'Road of the Mons,' meaning the road from the head of the lower rapids to the Indian Village above, so as to avoid the rapids. Early settlers followed the habit."
This clipping is shown in the treaty with the Sauk and Fox Indians as late as 1834, wherein the river is named "Demoin," and one tribe is called the "Sok." Sault Saint Marie is clipped to "Soo;" Raccoon River is clipped to "'Coon," and myriads of people do not know what it stands for.
In 1834, Congress having attached the "Black Hawk Purchase" to the Territory of Michigan, for temporary government, the Legislature of Michigan divided it into two counties; the south half was named after the river, and, with little regard for history, facts or tradition, sought to euphonize it making it pure French, and named it "Des Moiones."
Instead, therefore, of perpetuating the Indian name of the river, we have a name which has no incident or tradition on which to base it, and entirely alien to that given by Marquette, a historical fact much regretted.
April Sixteenth, 1905
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