Gunnison Massacre-1853-Millard County, Utah-Indian Mareers' Version of the Tragedy-1894

UHQ Volume 1, Number 3

July 1928

GUNNISON MASSACRE—1853—MILLARD COUNTY, UTAH—INDIAN MAREER'S VERSION OF THE TRAGEDY—1894

By Josiah F. Gibbs 1

GUNNISON MONUMENT, NEAR DESERET, MILLARD COUNTY, UTAH

Nearly seventy-five years have passed since the Gunnison massacre, years, during the first decade, filled to the brim with frontier life for all; with stirring adventure for many, and continuous struggle on the part of the first generation of Utah Pioneers to make and maintain homes.

The spirit of the West was that of almost unrestrained lawlessness on the part of white men as compared with the generally peaceful attitude of the redmen.

At the date of the Gunnison tragedy, Salt Lake City was but six years old. Utah's only newspaper, the "Deseret News," was small and published once a week. Communication with distant towns and remote hamlets was slow and infrequent. Pressed to the limit for space, the "News" was unable to yield more than a few lines, or at best a few paragraphs, to reports of tragedies and other intensely interesting frontier news which, if it had occurred fifty or sixty years'later, would have been flashed to the world in column stories. And depending almost exclusively, as they were, on the early files of the "News" for the beginnings of Utah history, there is no surprise that later historians gave such scant notice to the Gunnison massacre— at the time, Utah's outstanding tragedy.

Of the Indian version of the slaughter not a detail was known— the redmen would not talk—until 1894, when the writer obtained the story and published it in the Millard County "Blade." Quite recently, a friend, an earnest searcher for Indian lore, informed certain members of the Utah State Historical Society of the existence of the redmen's story of their movements, the strategy of the surprise attack, and other preparations during the night before the morning of the terrible deed. Hence this narrative.

Because of the almost entire absence of details of the story of the Gunnison tragedy carried in Utah histories, this narrative will be based almost exclusively on information gathered years ago from the pioneers of Millard County, several of whom, eleven days after the massacre, aided in burying the dead.

Millard County, Topographically And Structurally; An Inviting Field For Explorers And Scientists

For the reason that Pahvant valley, in the eastern part of Millard County, comprises the area in which the shifting scenes of this narrative were enacted, it, alone, will receive attention.

Roughly, Pahvant valley is circular in form, and, as roughly, embraces 2,000 square miles. Topographically and structurally, its most striking features are scores of volcanic buttes, craters, several of which are yet appreciably warm; and tens of thousands of acres of ancient and quite recent lava. (Near Black Rock, a station on the Los Angeles and Salt Lake railroad, the mouth of a recently active crater contains a delightfully warm swimming pool.) Exclusive of its craters, buttes and lava beds, the lower and central part of the valley is occupied by alkali flats, chalk and gypsum beds.

Twenty miles west of Fillmore a low, narrow eruptive range forms the eastern boundary of Millard County's dead salt sea—one of the very few remnants of ancient Lake Bonneville. The Sevier body of the one-time great lake at its highest period, was 600 feet deep, as compared with 1,050 feet in depth of the Salt Lake valley body.

A fascinating phenomenon, embracing the effects of light and shadow, that semi-annually occurs on a few evenings of early October and April, on the centuries-old beach, east side of the Sevier lake, is entitled to special attention. The writer's presence in that locality on that particular occasion, October, 1894, was accidental. •

From a point about mid-way, north-south, of the east salt-incrusted shore line, an ancient beach, a mile or so wide, ascends to the west base of the Cricket range, an altitude of 400 or 500 feet above the surface of Sevier lake. Apparently, the beach is without the slightest undulation, and has a thin growth of scrub "shad-scale." Other than that there is not a visible object on the wave-smoothed area. With a companion the writer was standing on the margin of the lake, looking east towards the base of the range at the instant the sun was dropping below the House mountains on the west side of the lake. It was the instant of the sun's disappearance and the occurrence of the after-glow, when seemingly from the desert beach a hundred or more shore-lines emerged—not unlike the flashing of a stereopticon picture on a screen. For five or six seconds the ghostly shore-lines (which in weird, thrilling antiquity mark the periodical rises and recessions of Lake Bonneville) endured, when as suddenly they disappeared.

That the redmen recognized the significance of Millard county's myriad shore lines, which from the west base of the Pahvant range are strikingly in evidence as far as Spring valley, Nevada, a distance of a hundred and fifty miles, is proved by their name for the great valley—Pahvant—Pah, water, vant, gone or vanished. In fact, Indian names for localities usually suggest local conditions, features or peculiarities.

From Sevier and Sanpete valleys the Sevier river enters the northeast corner of Pahvant valley; it flows thence southwesterly twenty-five miles to Gunnison bend, an important locality in our story. In Pahvant valley the river banks are low, but in places above the level of the low land to west and south; and at the time of which we are writing, and centuries theretofore, permitted the annual flooding of the lower areas, forming scores of large and small lakes, swamps and grassland bordered by dense growths of large willows, down to the salt lands on the northeastern shore of the Sevier lake, twenty miles below the town of Deseret.

Although somewhat premature, the scene of the massacre will here be described. The locality is six miles westerly from Deseret. Abutting the north bank of the river is a depression formed hundreds of years ago by the slow movement of the river channel from north to south, leaving a depressed area six or seven feet below the river bank and the level of the desert on north side. The eroded area is, roughly, a half-mile east-west by a quarter of a mile wide. In the southwest corner an opening permitted flooding. A shallow lake occupied the lower, central part, margined by marshes, swamps, and on the higher ground by rank meadow grass. Excepting at the southeast corner, where a narrow opening led out to the river, fifty feet distant, the entire area was surrounded by willows. Such were the features of Gunnison's, last camp ground when, fifty-six years ago, the writer first visited the locality.

Frontier Conditions In Millard County—1853

Fillmore, the county seat of Millard, was then but two years old, and in this town practically every white resident of Pahvant valley resided. Anson Call was the bishop and leading citizen of the small community.

The hardly-blazed Territorial road to southern California passed through Fillmore. Over that road a few emigrant trains had passed, and the Pahvant Indians, with headquarters on Corn creek, twelve miles southwest of Fillmore, gave the members of the occasional trains hearty greetings for the reason that it afforded opportunities for barter. Indian Chief Kanosh and war-chief Moshoquop kept the members of their tribe from molesting the "Mericat" emigrants. ("Mormons" and "'Mericats" were distinguishing nouns in those early years for Mormons and non-Mormons, and applied more especially to United States soldiers.)

Moshoquop's Father Murdered by Emigrant

Early in October, 1853, a company of emigrants arrived at Fillmore. Bishop Call told them a few Indians were encamped on Meadow creek, eight miles to the southwest; that they were friendly, and requested that they be not molested. The emigrants had hardly made camp, when Moshoquop, his father, Mareer and a few other Indians, who were camped higher up on Meadow creek, arrived and lost no time in the effort to "swap" moccasins, buckskins, etc., for sugar, tobacco and other articles prized by the redmen.

Recklessly ignoring the wise counsel of Bishop Call, the emigrants were suspicious of the bows and arrows carried by the Indians, and attempted to disarm them.

Naturally, the redmen resented the intrusion on their rights. Moshoquop's father thrust the point of an arrow against the breast of his assailant, who promptly shot the Indian in his side—he died the following day.

Two other Indians were wounded, one in his shoulder, the other in his arm; of the emigrants, but one was slightly wounded, and by an arrow in the hand of Moshoquop's father.

Kanosh, aided by Bishop Call, who donated several beeves and other articles of food, finally pacified the braves—i. e., all but Moshoquop. A few days after the melee, the war-chief and a band of warriors disappeared within the maze of lava beds and sand dunes in the direction of the lower reaches of the Sevier river.

Gunnison Expedition Enters Pahvant Valley

Captain John W. Gunnison, engineer, scientist, scholar, author and explorer; R. W. Kern, artist and topographer, explorer and author, and Jacob Creutzfeldt, botanist, comprised the personnel of the scientific division of the expedition, with Gunnison in charge of the exploratory work (Pacific railroad explorations and surveys), while Captain R. M. Morris was in command of the small escort of U. S. soldiers. Wm. Potter, of Manti, Utah, was employed as guide.

It was mid-October when the expedition entered Pahvant valley and encamped on Pioneer creek, six miles north of Fillmore. It was Captain Gunnison's second visit to Millard County, and he lost no time in visiting Bishop Call, between whom and himself a warm friendship existed.

Bishop Call informed the Captain of the recent trouble between the Indians and emigrants, and of the murder of Moshopuop's father. Captain Gunnison was also informed of the disappearance of the war-chief and a band of warriors to the northwest. In reply to Bishop Call's warning to be on his guard while in the valley, the captain explained that the Pahvants, especially Kanosh and Moshoquop, were his firm friends, and that danger from that quarter, if any, was extremely remote. It seems not to have occurred to the captain that Moshoquop knew nothing of his presence in that part of Utah.

Expedition Begins Exploratory Work

Within a few days after his. interview with Bishop Call, Gunnison and his companions broke camp. Owing to intervening alkali flats, deep sand and other obstacles, a direct route to the Sevier lake, the chief objective, nearly due west from their camp on Pioneer creek, the explorers were compelled to go north to the base of the Canyon range; thence, northwesterly to the Sevier river, where they made camp in the before-referred-to Gunnison Bend.

It was at that point that Captain Gunnison outlined his program of exploration. With Professors Kern and Creutzfeldt, a cook, Potter, a corporal and small escort of soldiers, Captain Gunnison would follow the river down to Sevier lake. Meantime, Captain Morris and a few companions were to examine the pass, in the extreme northwestern corner of the valley, as to its feasibility for a trans-continental railroad across that part of the Great Salt Lake desert. (Even at that early date, the Administration at Washington was preparing for the development of the vast western region with its almost limitless resources.) A few men would remain in camp at Gunnison bend.

Indian Mareer's Story of the Massacre

During the early 90's and many years theretofore, Deseret and vicinity was a favorite dwelling place for a dozen or so families of the rapidly vanishing Pahvants. Of the surviving participants in the massacre, whose picturesque wickiups and occupants were always welcome at Deseret, the writer recalls Moshoquop, Mareer and Sam. As now remembered, Moshoquop died at Deseret in 1893, forty years after the massacre.

A year or so after the war-chief's death—it would have been useless before that time—the writer approached Mareer with the object of securing the details of the redmen's participation in the Gunnison tragedy. "Me no savvy," was Mareer's evasive reply. The second attempt was more encouraging—"Mericats tobuck"—mad, was his hopeful answer. It was explained that nearly all the "Mericats" who were angry had since died, and that their papoosies wanted a "pochant pershiney"—newspaper talk—story of how the Indians killed the whitemen. All right—"pike komush echock"—come tomorrow morning.

Meantime, a map was made of the river from Deseret down to Sevier lake, with especial care to accurately define the locality of the tragedy. Next morning the map was placed before Mareer, he was handed a pencil, and requested to indicate the place of encampment, then to trace the-movements of the Indians during the night before the massacre, and give their names.

Seemingly anxious to palliate the crime, Mareer told the story of the murder of Moshoquop's father, of which he was a witness, and then named the participants. They were: Moshoquop, Pants, Mareer and his brother Jim, Carboorits, Nunkiboolits, Tomwants, and his son Koonants, Shipoke, "Doctor" Jacob, Wahbits, Moab, Sam and his brother Toady, Hunkootoop, Boquobits, and "Jimmy Knights" an unusually tricky Indian, well known to the early cattle raisers for the skill and boldness he exhibited in stealing their stock. There were also two Snake valley Indians, a Ute from Nephi, one whose name Mareer could not remember, and Mareer's father.

With the pencil Mareer indicated a group of lakelets about eight miles westerly from the hereinbefore described depression, and a mile or two north of the river, as the camp of the warriors. He then began this narrative, which follows:

During the early afternoon of October 25th, the whiteman's date, Sam and Toady, armed with bows and arrows, were hunting ducks and rabbits on the south side of the river, a couple of miles or so below Deseret. They were startled by the report of firearms from the north side of the river. Peering through the willows, the redmen saw a small number of horsemen, a few of whom wore United States military uniforms, which proved that they were "Mericats." Trailing in the rear of the horsemen, was an improvised cart, on which was packed bedding, provisions and camp utensils. The soldiers were firing at the flocks of ducks then moving southward.

Within the shelter of the willows, the Indians watched the movements of the whitemen until Captain Gunnison and comrades entered their last campground. After carefully observing the details of the camp, Sam and Toady hurried down the river and told Moshoquop of their discovery.

The opportunity for avenging his father's death had unexpectedly arrived, and Moshoquop lost no time in planning the details of the attack.

It was about midnight when the braves left their camp for the encampment of the whitemen. Without hesitation Mareer traced the sinuous trail of the redmen out to the river, thence up the north bank to the inlet in the southwest corner of the depression, where Moshoquop halted and gave his final instructions.

The war-chief, accompanied by Pants, Mareer, Carboorits, Nunkiboolits and several others in crossing the inlet, covered with a thin sheet of ice, got their feet wet, which Mareer distinctly remembered as the only disagreeable incident, while sitting motionless during the remainder of that chill October night, they awaited the fatal signal. Stealthily working their way through the willows on the north bank of the river to the Gunnison camp, Moshoquop, Mareer and others secreted themselves in clumps of willows not more than a hundred feet west of where the explorers were soundly sleeping. Carboorits took his assigned position on the river bank a few yards west of the trail made by the whitemen from their campfire in going to and fro for water. The other warriors skirted the north side of the depression, and turning south completed the deadly cordon. Carboorits had been selected to fire the signal gun at the instant the first rays of the sun should strike the camp.

It was a few minutes before sunrise when the cook lighted the campfire, over which he placed the iron tripod and kettles. Professors Kern and Creutzfeldt were standing by the fire, while the corporal and his men were caring for the horses, a hundred yards or so northwest of the campfire, where, the previous evening, they had been picketed among clumps of willows.

Captain Gunnison had walked out to the river, not more than fifty feet distant, and in a stooping position was bathing his hands and face. Startled by the click of Carboorits' gun as he raised the hammer, the captain sprang to his feet, and the bullet passed harmlessly by. Kern, Creutzfeldt and the cook fell dead beside the campfire, pierced with bullets from the guns of Moshoquop, Pants, Mareer and others.

Captain Gunnison, having emptied his revolver at Carboorits, who, illustrated in pantomime by Mareer, ducked and dodged with such agility as to escape injury, turned towards the terrifying babel of warwhoops, shouts of victory, cries for help from those wounded during the first discharge of arrows, and yells from the confused survivors, some of whom were moving the horses to fresh pasturage, or were racing toward their mounts. The corporal and a private leaped on their horses, and by keeping within the clumps of willows reached the higher ground to north, and escaped. Another private ran to the river, plunged in, reached the opposite bank, secreted himself, and during the afternoon reached the camp at Gunnison bend.

Reaching the scene of slaughter, Gunnison realized that all was lost, and that his only course, if possible, was that of escape from the heart-breaking scene. Pursued by a shower of deadly arrows, the captain, doubtless, with the hope of securing his saddle horse, ran towards the northwest and disappeared within the willows.

Closing Diabolical Scene—Mareer's Story Ends

Some two or three hours after the firing of the signal gun, Mareer and a few companions began a search of the willows, a hundred yards or so to northwest, for additional plunder. The redmen were surprised at discovering a whiteman who had been wounded by arrows lying full length on the sward, now marked with crimson stains. Several arrows lying about proved that the wounded man had wrenched them from his body.

At the appearance of the Indians the whiteman slowly and painfully raised himself to a sitting position. Mareer, alone, recognized Gunnison, but remained silent. Not even Moshoquop, until eleven days after the massacre, knew of the Captain's presence with the expedition.

Extending his hands, palms up, in mute appeal for mercy, Captain Gunnison awaited the verdict. The redmen hesitated. There was something in that silent appeal that touched a stranger in the hearts of the also silent redmen. Suddenly, "Jimmy Knight," the renegade Indian, appeared, and without speaking, raised his gun and fired. The captain's body swayed, then sank to the ground. 2

Today, on the north side of the river, six miles westerly from Deseret, a beautiful monument stands in the midst of indescribable desolation. Gone are the one-time thrifty willows, lakes and meadows. (The water that years ago was so abundant is now being used on farms higher up on the river—it is now the whiteman's water.) Members of the Arthur L. Cahoon Post of the American Legion quarried the shaft from a nearby field of black flint-like lava and transported it to the sport marked for many years by a cedar post. Near the top of the shaft, those patriots in peace and war secured a large bronze arrow head, bearing in relief the imperishable names of the dead. Into a mound of boulders and cement they planted the base of the shaft, with the bronze plate appropriately turned toward the setting sun. And there, dignified by its isolation, and within the silence of the far-reaching desert, the tribute of sympathy will stand through the ages.

On Memorial Day, 1927, from 3,000 to 5,000 old, middle-aged and young residents of Millard County were massed around the Gunnison Monument. They were present for the purpose of participating in the dedicatory ceremonies. Feelingly, a very few of the aged pioneers rehearsed the story of the massacre. The monument, theretofore enveloped in the folds of the stars and stripes, was unveiled; members of the Arthur L. Cahoon Post fired a farewell salute. While the larger part of those present slowly disappeared within clouds of desert dust, a few lingered as if loathe to leave the tragic ground.

References

1 Mr. Gibbs is a retired mining geologist and engineer, now residing at Marysvale, Utah. He edited and published the Millard County Blade at Deseret in 1893 and 1894.

2 "October 30, (1853).—Kenosh, the chief of the band of murderers, arrived at Fillmore, having been sent for by Mr. Call, accompanied by fifteen or twenty of his people. He brought with him one of the public horses lost by Captain Gunnison's escort, 'which,' he said, 'he had taken from the fellow who came to him with the intelligence of their successful operation, and hastened to return it, meeting Mr. Call's messenger (who had been sent for him) on the way; that he deeply regretted the tragedy; that it was done without authority, by the young men—boys, as he called them—of the band, who had no chief with them, or it would not have happened.' He subsequently informed the Governor's agent that there were thirty of his people in the party, two of whom were its instigators, seeking revenge for the death of their father, who, they said, had been hilled by emigrants but a few days before."—Lt. E. G. Beckwith, in Pacific Railroad Reports, Vol. II, pages 75-76. "May 13, 1854.— * * *

"This afternon, accompanied by two interpreters and several other gentlemen, we proceeded to the Farvain Indian's camp, to see their celebrated chieftain, Kanoshe. * * * I also learned from him, through the interpreters, the following facts, relation to Gunnison's massacre.

"There were about thirty Parvain Indians, encamped six miles, N. W. of Gunnison's camp, on Cedar Spring. Potter, a Mormon guide, and one of the exploring party went out to shoot ducks; one of the Parvains was also shooting rabbits, and hearnig the explosion of fire-arms, he marked the direction, and followed the men to their camp. This Indian was the son of a Parvain chief, who was killed by a party of emigrants, under command of Capt. Hildreth, about two weeks before. Marking the spot, he repaired to his own camp, and commenced to make inflammatory speeches to his tribe; he made a fictitious scalp out of horse hair, attached it to a pole, and elevating it, commenced the war dance; the rest of the Parvains continued dancing until midnight.

''They were incited to revenge, for the unprovoked murder of their old chief; who, together with some women and young men, went into Hildreth's camp merely to beg food. They were ordered out, and force was used to take away their bows and arrows; in the scuffle, one of the Americans got his hand cut with an arrow-head, when they were fired upon with rifles, and several persons killed; among them this old chief.

"The Parvains, before day, started for Gunnison's camp, surrounded the party who were breakfasting under cover of the willows which grew on the banks of the creek. Capt. Gunnison was the first man who had finished his breakfast; he arose, and while speaking to his men, the Indians, with a tremendous yell, fired upon them. Capt. Gunnison raised his hands and beckoned them to stop. The men immediately fled, only one man fell by the first fire on the spot. The men's first endeavors were to reach their horses; the Indians pursued them, and shot them from their horses. The American party never fired a gun; the last man fell three miles from camp."—5\ N. Carvalho, Incidents of Travel and Adventure in the Far We.r£,'pages 196-198.

{Autumn, 1854).—"Orders had been given to Colonel Steptoe to arrest and bring to trial the perpetrators of the Gunnison massacre, and after much expense and the exercise of great tact and judgment, most of them were secured and indicted for murder. Eight of the offenders, including a chief named Kanosh, were put on trial at Nephi City; and though the judge distinctly charged the jury that they must find the prisoners guilty or not guilty of murder, a verdict of manslaughter was returned against three of the accused, the rest being acquitted. The sentence was three years' imprisonment in the Utah penitentiary, this being the severest punishment prescribed by statute."— History of Utah, by. Hubert Howe Bancroft, page 493.