Kansas Historical Quarterly
Gateways to the Promised Land:
The Role Played by the Southern Kansas Towns
in the Opening of the Cherokee Strip to Settlement
by Jean C. Lough
Spring 1959 (Vol. 25, No. 1), pages 17-31
Transcribed by Harriette J. Jensen; HTML editing by Tod Roberts
Digitized with permission of the Kansas Historical Society;
numbers in brackets refer to endnotes at the bottom of the article.
FOR A BRIEF WHILE, in 1893, southern Kansas was the focus
of attention throughout the United States. Thousands of
people flocked to the area. Correspondents for the great
Eastern newspapers were present, sending out dozens of
dispatches daily. The cause of this tremendous interest was
the opening of the Cherokee strip, Indian territory, to
settlement.
Elsewhere in the United
States lay millions of uninhabited acres, but the interest
was in this strip of land -- roughly 58 by 150 miles --
where the very atmosphere was reputed to be "electric and
full of life-giving properties." [1]
There were many reasons for
this interest in the Cherokee outlet, or "strip," as it was
called. Perhaps the greatest was that the land was
forbidden. It had been supposed it would be the home of the
Indian forever. Three railroads crossed it, but no
settlement was permitted within it. The areas to the north
and south were well populated. The homesteader wished to
save the strip for civilization; he wished to break the
power of the great cattlemen's combine, which, until 1890,
had been using it. The railroads wished to see it settled,
in order to increase their own profit.
The southern border towns
of Kansas of course saw possibilities for great financial
gain. They saw the strip as a vast new trade territory which
would necessarily be dependent upon them for goods and
services of all types. They also, expected the advent of
many new residents -- preferably "capitalists."
When the Indian
appropriation bill of March 3, 1893, was finally approved by
congress, it contained the legislation necessary to carry
out the cession of the Cherokee outlet from the Cherokee
nation to the federal government, to pay the Cherokee nation
the sum agreed upon, $8,595,736.12 and to open the lands to
public settlement. Specifically, the outlet was a strip of
land directly south of and parallel to the southern Kansas
border, bounded on the east by the Arkansas river and on the
west by Beaver county and Texas. To the south were the
Cheyenne and Arapaho reservations, the Creek nation, and the
territory of Oklahoma -- or "old Oklahoma."
"Old Oklahoma" had been
settled in 1889, ten years after the first boomers came to
sit upon the Kansas border and gaze at Indian territory with
longing eyes. David L. Payne, the boomer's most militant
leader, had been fond of quoting -- "The Lord commandeth
unto Moses: Go forth and possess the Promised Land," and it
became the watchword of the boomer campaign. [2]
Naturally, the presence of an area of land in the middle of
Indian territory, unassigned to any one tribe, had invited
the greed of the land-hungry. Once this land was opened,
most of the rest of the Indian's "permanent" home quickly
went, piece by piece. Two years later the boomers were again
camped on the Kansas border, looking southward, and the
congress of the United States was in the process of
negotiating for the cession of the Cherokee outlet.
The outlet was not actually
occupied by Cherokee Indians. It had been Comanche and Kiowa
territory, [3] which had been taken from them by the
government and given to the Cherokees, in exchange for lands
taken from the Cherokees in Georgia. The Cherokee nation
resided upon a rectangular tract to the east of the outlet.
The outlet gave them access to the hunting grounds to the
west. For several years it had been leased by cattlemen for
the grazing of their herds. These cattlemen, united in the
Cherokee Strip Livestock Association, as well as the
railroads, had tried unsuccessfully to buy the strip. The
federal government had prohibited it.
Public opinion had become
so strong, however, for the opening of the strip to
settlement that the government eventually renounced its
treaties with the Indians, and virtually forced them to
sell. The official position was that the support which the
Five Civilized Tribes (erstwhile owners of Negro slaves) had
given the Confederate cause during the Civil War had
automatically abrogated the treaties made with the
tribes.
When the news reached
Kansas that settlement had finally been arranged with the
Indians for the cession of the outlet, the Weekly Republican
Traveler, of Arkansas City, said:
For years a little
band of faithful men in this city have worked in season
and out of season for the consummation of the end which
we are celebrating today. Money has been expended in
large sums in a legitimate way and the rewards of these
sacrificing men have too often been curses and
misrepresentation ... [4]
Now there was hope of more
substantial rewards.
The little town of
Hunnewell was already receiving benefits. During the early
1890's, after the government had ordered all cattle removed
from the strip, thousands of head of cattle were driven to
the stockyards at Hunnewell for shipment to market or to
other grazing grounds. There was a Santa Fe branch line
terminus at Hunnewell, and the Frisco built an extension
down from South Haven, three miles to the north. [5]
The population of the town multiplied. It was a roaring
cowtown in the tradition of the earlier shipping
centers.
The nation of course
expected an immediate Presidential proclamation setting the
time of the opening of the strip, but it was slow in coming.
Details needed to be taken care of, and an attempt was made
to find a more satisfactory method of settlement than the
"run" system used in the three previous openings.
While the government was
studying, railroads and southern Kansas towns were acting.
Promotion went into high gear. Boomer literature was printed
and widely distributed. Businessmen's clubs and committees
raised funds for advertising, and solicited names of people
to whom they could send literature. Maps of the strip sold
for 15 cents apiece. The homesteaders began arriving in
increasing numbers.
Part of the influx was due
to the Panic of 1893. Money was scarce. Banks were closing.
Farm prices were dwindling steadily. The farmers of Kansas
were in revolt, and were upsetting Kansas' political
traditions by voting for Populist candidates instead of
Republicans. The great boom of the 1880's had burst, and
continued drought, small crops, and low prices, coupled with
mortgage foreclosures, caused many to seek cheap land and a
new start. The boomers were sometimes able to earn a little
money by working for the farmers in the region, but more
often they had to rely upon hunting and fishing to sustain
them while they waited.
The Kansas towns which were
closest to the border and the most likely to be the nucleus
for would-be-settlers were Arkansas City, Cale, Hunnewell,
South Haven, Kiowa, Anthony, and Ashland. Of these, Arkansas
City and Caldwell had by far the greatest attraction. The
two main-line railroads which crossed the strip were the
Santa Fe at Arkansas City, and the Rock Island at Caldwell.
The best land was at the eastern end of the strip, priced at
$2.50 an acre. West of the meridian of 97° 30' at $1.00
an acre -- the latter figure 25 cents an acre less than the
government paid the Indians for it.
Arkansas City had a
population in 1893 of 9,264 people, an increase of almost
1,000 since 1892. Caldwell had 2,138 residents in 1893, and
increase of around 140 persons. Doubtless these increases
were attributable to the arrival of the earliest boomers,
who found jobs and settled into the community, and the
arrival of new businesses, preparing to take advantage of
the great crowds expected and the anticipated business.
Waiting for the opening of the Cherokee Strip (or
Outlet)
at a camp near Arkansas City, September, 1893.
Photo courtesy Walter D. Hutchison.
It was on August 19, 1893,
that Cleveland finally issued the long-awaited Presidential
proclamation. The strip was to be opened to settlement at 12
noon, September 16, 1893. The "run" system was to be used.
At a given signal all participants would rush forward, and
the first person to arrive at a location could drive a stake
bearing his flag and lay claim to that homestead.
In an effort to prevent
fraud, especially by people crossing the line sooner than
the legal opening time, nine booths were to be erected --
five on the Kansas border and four on the border of Old
Oklahoma -- where people were to register and receive
certificates. These certificates were to be shown before
legal entry could be made to the strip on opening day, and
they must also must be shown when filing claims. The booths
were to open on September 11, remain open ten hours a day,
and continue until closed by order of the secretary of the
Department of the Interior. Three officers were to work in
each booth.
In order to be eligible for
a homestead, a person must be 21 years of age or the head of
a family: this caused a few hasty marriages. He (or she)
must be a citizen of the United States, or have declared his
intention of becoming one, must not have exhausted his
homestead right, and must not be a "sooner" -- one who
crossed the line too soon. [6]. A married woman
could not take her land if her husband did. No restrictions
were put on registrants because of race.
Certain areas were withheld
from the public settlement. A maximum of 70 allotments were
open to members of the Cherokee nation -- 68 being finally
approved. Land was set aside for the Camp Supply military
reservation, for the Chilocco Indian Industrial School, for
four government land offices, and for county courthouses,
schools, parks, universities, agricultural colleges, and
other public purposes.
The area had already been
divided into counties, given temporary alphabetical
designation (K through Q), and county-seat locations had
been established. A strip of land 100 feet wide around and
immediately within the outer boundaries of the entire
Cherokee strip was set apart for opening purposes, to allow
the people to assemble without impediment just before the
run.
Soldiers were patrolling
the borders as well as the interior of the strip, looking
for sooners. The railroads were also guarded, but the number
of soldiers available was totally inadequate for the
magnitude of the job at hand. Many, many sooners slipped
through. Those who were caught were escorted out of the
territory, sometimes held in custody until after the run,
and they lost their right to homestead upon the strip. A few
sooners were killed by the soldiers. Some of the soldiers
could be bribed, however. One man paid a soldier $25 to hide
him in a hole on a claim the Friday night before the
opening. He emerged at 12 noon, Saturday, and found four
other men had already staked on the claim. [8]
After the Presidential
proclamation setting the date for the opening of the strip,
migration increased tremendously. The New York Times
carried an article from Topeka, on September 5, saying that
the "movement toward the Cherokee Strip is increasing all
the time. There has been a daily average of 100 teams
passing through this city, with from two to six men to the
team. This has lasted now two weeks, and it is yet nearly
two weeks until the opening." It added that the first
newspaper in the strip would be a daily at Perry, to be
published by a John W. Jacks of Missouri, "who has his
presses and materials already there." At least 60 newspaper
plants in Kansas were reported to be boxed up and ready for
shipment to the newly-settled territory. Twenty of these
were said to be headed for Perry, which was believed by many
to be "the coming city.."
Along the border, stores
were selling out their stocks and reordering almost daily.
Prices were not higher in Kansas, but Guthrie, Indian
territory, reported shortages of supplies and prices rising.
[9] Milk sold regularly for five cents a quart,
bread for five cents a loaf, eggs for five or ten cents a
dozen, and coffee from 25 to 30 cents a pound.
[10]
The Weekly Republican
Traveler of Arkansas City increased in size from four to
eight pages. The Caldwell News said bluntly on September 7:
"We are too full of strip business to pay much attention to
politics till the gates swing open to the promised
land."
The post office at Arkansas
City had to put on three extra men to handle and distribute
the mail. [11] Bakers at Wichita were working
overtime to furnish bread to Caldwell, Kiowa, and Hunnewell,
where the great number of boomers was causing a shortage.
[12]
Warnings were issued to
watch out for pickpockets and thugs of all kinds, as the
towns were full of them. Many and bitter were the protests
of having been taken at the old shell game.
Horses were put into
training, and these were some complaints about racing
through and near the towns. Harness was tested and
strengthened, and wagons were gone over and repaired. An
enterprising man from Wichita brought down a carload of
horses to sell. [13]
Farmers received many
requests from homesteaders wishing to camp upon their lands.
One man built a temporary house with a door on the state
line, so that he would be ready to go at a moment's notice.
The campers were so thick along the border, and the weather
so dry, that the soil was eventually churned to dust. Water
was soon very scarce; wells were pumped dry, and streams and
water holes dried up. Washing was almost an impossibility.
Water sold for a dime a cup.
Once the registration was
begun, hardships multiplied. The booths opened only five
days before the run was to be made. Thousands of people
stood in line before each booth, day and night, awaiting
their turns. The heat was intense, and numerous cases of
heat prostration and sunstroke, with some deaths, were
reported. Those who had families could rely on them to bring
food and water, which was often shared with others in the
line. Woman were usually ushered to the head of the line,
the last piece of chivalry most of them were to see for some
time.
In spite of all
precautions, fraud was still possible at the booths. People
joined the registrations lines, only to sell their places
for from five to 25 dollars. Many certificates were sold or
obtained in other illegal manners. Some of the soldiers
guarding the booths were bribed to take registrants in the
back door; booth officials sometimes obliged acquaintances
by selling them certificates after hours, in the hotels. At
Orlando, Oklahoma territory, the registration booths were
robbed of certificates and the official stamp, and by the
next morning thousands of forged certificates were on the
market. [15]
The cattlemen had a meeting
in Arkansas City on September 14, and sent a wire to
President Cleveland protesting the booth system of
registration as carried out at Booth No. 9, south of
Arkansas City. The wire said, in part: "7,000 people are now
in line and thousands more arrive on each train. A conflict
between parties that are not registered and the troops is
imminent unless the system is abandoned... The conduct of
the soldiers at Booth #9 is despicable ..." [16]
PREPARING FOR "THE GREATEST RUN OF THE CENTURY"
Registration area near Arkansas City, September 14,
1893.
Photo courtesy Jessy Mae Coker.
That same day between 4,000
and 5,000 persons were in line before the booth at Caldwell.
Hunnewell reported being "over-pressed," also. Orlando,
Indian territory, had around 22,000 boomers, and the intense
heat and bad water caused an epidemic of dysentery there.
[17] Many people had shipped their horses, bedding,
and camping equipment by railroad from Kansas, across the
strip, in hopes of finding less crowded conditions and
having a better chance in the run from there.
The Cherokees set a
telegram to Secretary of the Interior Hoke Smith requesting
permission to put well diggers to work on the Indian
allotments "that water may be in readiness for the crowds
that will run into the new country on Saturday, and who will
certainly suffer intensely from thirst." [18] The
request was denied.
The appeal for help on the
registration problem was heeded, however, Extra booths were
opened and many new clerks were added, in a last minute
attempt to alleviate the hardships of registration.
Among the hundreds of
people arriving daily were several special groups with plans
for establishing colonies of their own. One such group was
comprised of 500 Presbyterians, reportedly on its way from
Colorado.
Two hundred Scandinavians
arrived in Arkansas City under the management of one Oscar
Johnson of McPherson county. Their colony was chartered by
the state of Kansas. [19]
Annette Daisy was also on
hand. She had taken an active part in the three former
openings. This time she organized a colony of single women,
widows, and spinsters, dedicated to the purpose of building
a community "across the sacred borders of which no man shall
pass." [20]. Thirty-four women had signed up by
opening time.
In Guthrie, a colony of
several hundred Negroes arrived. Each one of them had a
printed certificate granting him a farm upon his arrival.
These certificates had been bought in Louisiana for ten
dollars apiece, and were obviously worthless.
[21]
Other people had bought
tickets entitling them to draw for the land, paying several
dollars for that privilege -- which was not to be
granted.
Many of the people who
traveled to the Kansas border before the opening day became
disgusted with the crowds, the registration procedure, the
dust and hot winds, and returned to their former homes.
Their places were quickly filled by new arrivals.
Fortunately, although the settlers had come from almost
every part of the United States and from abroad, the great
majority of them were from the Middle West, particularly
Kansas, where climatic and drought conditions were not too
different from those of the "promised land." These people
were better able to endure the hardships prior to the
opening.
On September 14, 1893, a
Rock Island train crossing the strip was attacked, and
despite desperate resistance from the trainmen, the Pullman
cars were robbed of all their ice and water. The train crew
was reported to bear the marks of fierce fighting.
[22]
Thirsty sooners were not
the only desperadoes loose in the strip. The Dalton and
Starr gangs were making their headquarters there -- as well
as many less well-known train and bank robbers. Trains were
frequently held up, and the gunmen appeared in Kansas boldly
and apparently at will.
On the day before the run a
scout appeared in Arkansas City, having just come from the
Osage country, and notified all the banks that the remnants
of the Dalton-Starr gang were camped about 30 miles south of
the town. They were planning to rob the banks once the
people had left town for the opening. A strong posse was
organized to protect the banks, as almost the entire police
force was going to make the run. The rain never actually
took place. [23]
Hunnewell was having
troubles of its own. A town of approximately 250 people, it
was greatly overrun. Waiting lines were everywhere, at the
hotels, restaurants, stores, post office. Feeling ran very
high when it was discovered that four race horses had been
killed and seven others had been hamstrung. [24]
There was strong suspicion that someone planning to make the
race afoot was responsible.
Violence and death were not
unusual during these days. Men were killed for their money,
or for their certificates. More often, they fought, and
killed, over gambling, women, and even attempts to crash the
waiting line at the registration booths. By far the vast
majority of the boomers, however, were honest, hard-working
people who behaved in an orderly manner -- until the run
started.
In Arkansas City the press
seized its opportunity to extol the virtues of the town
before a captive audience. Articles were printed enumerating
the economic possibilities of the area, the water supply
from two rivers, the three railroads, three newspapers,
three mills, four banks, stockyards, streetcar lines,
electric lights, and telephone exchange. The industries
included a reclining chair factory, a canning factory, and
makers of bricks, carriages, mattresses, and wind machines,
as well as a wholesale grocery. [25]
As the Canal City Dispatch,
of Arkansas City, said: "We have the location, the water
power and everything else necessary to make a city ...
people ... will return ... buy property ... Inside of the
next year Arkansas City's population will be three times
what it is at present. It will be the supply point for the
south." [26] Fifty thousand people were in or near
Arkansas City before the run was made.
At Caldwell the press was
also busy promoting the town. There was one gloomy note. The
Caldwell journal kept printing a notice saying: "We have on
our books the names of a great many who owe us from one or
two dollars on subscription. In all it reaches several
hundred dollars. Many of these men will go into the strip
without thinking of paying us. We can't afford to lose this
money and ask all to call at once and settle." [27]
The editor finally solved his problem by selling the paper
and going into the strip himself to live.
For the last few days
before the opening, prairie fires raged across the strip.
Several sooners were believed to have burned to death. It
was said that "If a crow attempted to fly the Cherokee Strip
he'd have to take his own grub along." [28] A song
was sung to the tune of "After the Ball is Over":
- After the strip is opened,
- After the
run is made,
- After the horses are buried
- After the
debts are paid;
- Many a sucker'll be kicking,
- Many will
have lost their grip,
- Many will wish they'd been hung,
- Ere going
to the strip. [29]
At last the great day
arrived. Well over 100,000 people were assembled on the
northern and southern boundaries. For hours they waited;
gambling, singing, praying -- -even preaching. Finally, at
12 noon (five minutes earlier on the Hennessey stretch of
line) a shot rang out and was relayed along the line from
soldier to soldier. The eager settlers, straining their
eyes, could see the puff of smoke from the distant rifle
before they could hear the sound of the shot. All along the
line the horses leaped forward, and the great race was on.
The horsemen and bicyclists were easily in the lead,
followed by the heavier carriages and wagons. In the rear
were those who were going in afoot. In one place, at the
first steep ravine -- an 18-foot embankment -- the
bicyclists were forced to quit. The horsemen, unwilling to
lose time by looking for a more favorable spot to cross, in
many cases leaped their horses down the embankment, often
crippling them so that they had to be abandoned. Clouds of
dust obscured the vision of the strippers, and one heavy
wagon, loaded with six men, was accidentally driven over the
same embankment. One man on the wagon suffered a broken leg.
[30]
There were many accidents.
People fell off horses and were in danger of being trampled
in the rush. A Mrs. Charles Barnes of El Dorado was killed
under a falling horse. [31] Several other women,
some of whom rode "clothes-pin fashion" were also injured.
Broken arms, legs, and necks were not uncommon. Some who
didn't fall from horses or wagons, or drive off cliffs,
managed to fall off the overloaded trains which made the
run, or be accidentally shot in the uproar. Sooners were
shot by soldiers, and at lease one soldier was shot by a
sooner. [32]
As the horsemen established
a good lead over the rest of the boomers, some of them
dismounted and set fire to the prairie, so that those behind
them could not advance. Other fires were set by claimants
trying to burn off the grass and uncover their boundary
markers. A number of people were burned to death, including
a colored man named Tom Jameson [33] and a Mrs.
Elizabeth Osborne of Newton, Mo. [34] Some of those
burned to death could not be identified.
The fine race horses
imported for the occasion did not hold up too well. They
made good starts, but couldn't stand the distance or the
terrain. Many dead horses littered the prairie the next day.
One man had a most uncomfortable ride when his thoroughbred
race horse became excited in all the turmoil and ran
uncontrollably for 24 miles before dropping dead.
[35]
The trains which made the
run were jammed to the roof. At Caldwell, although very
crowded, the business of loading the Rock Island trains
proceeded in a fairly orderly manner.
As tickets were
procured, the purchaser passed on from the east to the
west side of the tracks, received successive numbers,
were put into companies under captains, and placed in a
position along the track ready, each company to board a
car when the train came along. The train was made up of
Montgomery Palace Cattle cars -- 35 cars -- and it was
loaded with 5,200 persons who bought tickets and several
hundred marshals and others, and officers of the road.
[36]
In Arkansas City things did
not go quite so well. The trains didn't pull out of the
Santa Fe yards until long after 12 o'clock, and the jam then
was terrible. "At least 15,000 people, including most of the
population of Arkansas City, were there to board the trains.
Special trains from Wichita, Winfield and other points came
in loaded with sightseers ... Engineers were instructed to
run carefully, for it had been said attempts would be made
to tamper with the trains." [37] Already spikes and
straps had been removed from the rails and bridges, but were
fortunately discovered before any accidents resulted. Trains
also made the run from the south.
The trains had to stop at
every station, and slow down or stop every five miles. They
were forbidden to travel faster than 15 miles per hour. As a
result, the men on horses arrived before the trains.
Many of those who made the
run by train were town lot seekers, or investors in town lot
companies, such as the Ponca Town Company and the Cherokee
Town Site Trust Company.
At Orlando, Oklahoma
territory, between 20,000 and 25,000 people were gathered
for the race to the town site of Perry -- a distance of ten
miles. It took 45 minutes for the trains to get to Perry,
and by that time there were approximately 1,000 horsemen
there. By two in the afternoon there were 20,000 people in
Perry, many of them without food or water. [39]
Some enterprising people
made the run with improvised "water-wagons" and sold water
for a dollar a bucket. Fortunately the weather was not as
hot as earlier in the week.
Besides the difficulties of
the run itself, there were the sooners and the claim jumpers
to deal with. The leaders of the race frequently arrived, on
sweaty horses, at a likely spot, only to find someone
already there, with an unmarked horse, sometimes plowing a
field near a partially-erected house. A whole town was
reported stolen by sooners. Men made the run from the east
side, contrary to instructions. Many cases were later taken
to court, but it was difficult to prove a man a sooner.
Nearly every sooner had two friends to swear that his claim
was legitimate and his certificate legal.
In many cases men dropped
out of the run and staked land unaware of the fact that
someone else had already done so, or was doing so at that
very moment. Some of these cases were settled on the spot,
with a gun. Other claims were deliberately jumped.
Alexander Gillespie was
staking a claim near Arkansas City when another boomer with
a Winchester rode up and dismounted upon the same claim. "We
will play a game of checkers for it," said he. "I've jumped
and it's your move." When he raised his Winchester,
Gillespie moved!" [39]
An estimated 30,000 people
made the run from Arkansas City, and 10,000 from Caldwell,
with a number going in from other Kansas border towns and
the Oklahoma territory. [40] By nightfall many of
them were on their way out again. Some merely went in to see
the show. Others were too late to stake a claim.
While the excitement was
going on in the Cherokee strip, the surrounding towns were
practically deserted. The banks were closed and business was
at a standstill. Everyone who possibly could had gone to see
the run. However, within four hours of the start of the
race, orders began to roll into Arkansas City for lumber and
supplies. The eagerly awaited market had been opened.
One of the most successful
profiteers form the opening of the Cherokee strip was a
lawyer who went into the strip several hours before the
opening, but without attempting to get land. Instead, he
collected evidence against some 200 or more sooners and had
no trouble in getting "an army of clients." [41]
The local press was shocked
at the depopulation created by the opening of the Cherokee
strip to settlement, but was pleased that it had "at last
been wrested from the powerful cattle syndicate which for
many years held dominion over it and would permit no
home-seekers." [42]
Throughout the nation,
though, criticism was rising over the manner in which the
run had been conducted, and over the idea of having a horse
race with the stakes a part of the public domain. The New
York Times editorialized on September 17:
The whole trouble
has arisen from the fact that our homestead laws have
been bequeathed to us from a period when the Government
and the Nation were greatly interested in making sure
that the public domain was occupied and utilized. That
period is past. What there is left of the public domain
is a national possession of great and increasing value
that should be made to yield to the Public Treasury all
that it is fairly worth.
A homestead of 160 acres of
the best land, which sold for $2.50 an acre, would cost the
settler around $516, including his fees and four percent
interest for five years. [43]
The New York Times
editorial expressed the current but curious view towards the
Cherokee strip and public lands:
The Cherokee Strip may be called the last remnant of the
public domain. The United States of America do still own
some land in various outlying parts, but this is the last
great tract that is thrown open to settlement. It is upon
that count the more disgraceful and calamitous that the
settlement of it should be attended by the outrageous scenes
that have been witnessed during the last few days, and that
are likely to be followed by scenes more disgraceful
still.
To back up this prophecy,
the Times carried a front page story on September 19,
with numerous titles and subtitles as follows:
Baptism of Blood and Fire.
Flaming Passions and Prairies
In Cherokee Strip.
Homemakers Abandoning their Outfits and Fleeing
for Their Lives -- Thousands of them Hastening Back from
What a Few Days Ago Was the Promised Land -- Tent Towns
Demolished by a Fierce Gale -- A Harvest of Corpses --
Quarrels of Racers and "Sooners."
Conditions were bad, but it
is doubtful if they were that bad! Many boomers did leave
the strip very quickly. The weather, the burned-over earth,
and the apparently endless winds encouraged the less
resolute to leave. Some managed to sell their claims before
filing, and turn a quick profit. Others were not so
fortunate. Claims were advertised for sale in the local
newspapers.
Perhaps the most
frustrating experience was that of Jacob Lorenson. An
Article in the Canal City Dispatch on September 22
said:
Jacob Lorenson is
the name of the young man who cut his throat at Perry
yesterday. He came here from Saginaw, Mich., and bought a
lot for $500, which proved to be on the public square. He
staked another lot for which he was offered $250 but
refused the offer. It turned out that the lot was in the
alley. Moneyless and discouraged, he cut his throat but
was alive this morning, according to the report.
One group of unsuccessful
homesteaders -- a would-be colony from Illinois, which made
the run on foot and secured nothing -- had this to say: "We
are glad to get back ... We honestly would not take a claim
in the new country as a gift now, after what we saw of the
country and its people." [44]
The trains running north
out of the strip were overloaded. The railroads were doing
exceedingly well, and continued to do so, for over their
lines rolled the goods to build and stock not only stores
but cities. Passenger trade was heavy, but as it slackened
the freight trade increased.
Arkansas City was doing
well economically. The orders rolled in, and Arkansas City
boasted that it was supplying every city in the strip
located on the Santa Fe line. In addition, an estimated
$250,000 had been left there by the boomers. The city did
suffer a marked loss in population to the strip, but held
firmly to the belief that the people would come back, and
that others, becoming disenchanted with the strip, would
settle there.
Caldwell did not fare as
well as Arkansas City. It, too, was a supply center, but it
was so seriously depopulated that it was necessary to hold a
special election. The councilmen for the first, second and
third wards had left the state of Kansas. [45]
The population of Arkansas
City fell from 9,264 in 1893 to 7,120 in 1894. Caldwell went
from 2,138 to 1,386 in the same years. Kiowa fell from 1,358
people to 504. There were similar losses all along the
border. These losses cannot be attributed entirely to the
opening of the Cherokee strip, as the current depression
undoubtedly contributed. It was estimated, however, that the
opening of the Cherokee strip cost Kansas some 50,000
populist votes.
The opening of the Cherokee
strip to settlement was an event for which the adjacent
towns had long worked, propagandized, and invested. In
return they expected substantial city growth and economic
prosperity. Their goals were only partially attained.
Temporary economic gains there were, but also the loss of
residents. The losses were not quite as severe as they
seemed, when it is realized that boomers were gathering for
the expected opening as early as 1891, and those who got
jobs locally were accepted and counted as part of the
resident population, when in fact and intention they were
not.
Those towns which were
basically sound, with sufficient water, good railroad
connections, and some local industry, survived the Cherokee
strip opening and experienced a slow but steady recovery and
growth. Others, which had had several rewarding years
because of the strip boom, but which had no firm economic
basis, never recovered. The hotel at Hunnewell has been torn
down and most of the business houses have disappeared. On
the site of Cale stands a lone grain elevator.
The people had exercised
their traditional American prerogative, and moved on into
the new frontier -- looking, as always, for the "promised
land" beyond.
Notes
MRS. JEAN C. LOUGH, who received an M.A.
degree in history at Colorado University, Boulder, in
1958, is a resident of Arkansas City.
1. W.S. Prettyman,
Indian Territory: A Frontier Photographic Record,
selected and edited by Robert E. Cunningham (Norman,
University of Oklahoma Press, 1957), p. 120.
2. Ibid., p. 10.
3. Marquis James, The
Cherokee Strip: A Tale of an Oklahoma Boyhood (New York,
Viking Press, 1945), p. 10.
4. Weekly Republican
Traveler, Arkansas City, March 9, 1893.
5. Homer S. Chambers,
The Enduring Rock (Blackwell, Okla., Blackwell
Publications, Inc., 1954), p. 12.
6. James D. Richardson,
A Compilation of the Messages and Papers of the
Presidents, 1789-1902 (Washington, Bureau of National
Literature and Art, 1905), v. 9, p. 417.
7. Ibid., pp.
409-411.
8. Weekly Republican
Traveler, October 26, 1893.
9. New York Times,
September 14, 1893.
10. Chambers, op.
cit.
11. Arkansas Valley
Democrat, Arkansas City, September 1, 1893.
12. Jennie Small Owen,
annalist, The Annals of Kansas 1886-1925 (Topeka,
Kansas Historical Society, 1954), v. 1, p. 156.
13. Martha Jefferson Boyce,
History in the Making: A Story of the Cherokee Strip
(Beatrice, Neb., Franklin Press, 1948), p. 6.
14. Weekly Republican
Traveler, March 16, 1893.
15. New York Times,
September 17, 1893.
16. Ibid., September
15, 1893.
17. Ibid.
18. Ibid.
19. Ibid., September
15, 1893.
20. Ibid., September
17, 1893.
21. Ibid., September
15, 1893.
22. Ibid., September
15, 1893.
23. Ibid., September
16, 1893.
24. Caldwell News,
September 14, 1893.
25. Weekly Republican
Traveler, May 11, 1893.
26. Canal City
Dispatch, Arkansas City, September 15, 1893.
27. Caldwell
Journal, August 24, 1893.
28. Chambers, op.
cit., p. 22.
29. Ibid., p.
23.
30. New York Times,
September 17, 1893.
31. Weekly Republican
Traveler, September 21, 1893.
32. New York Times,
September 17, 1893.
33. Ibid.
34. Canal City
Dispatch, September 22, 1893.
35. Weekly Republican
Traveler, September 21, 1893.
36. L.R. Elliott, as quoted
in "The Greatest Race of the Century," The Kansas
Historical Quarterly, v. 23 (Summer, 1957), p. 207.
37. Denver
Republican, September 17, 1893.
38. New York Times,
September 17, 1893.
39. Canal City
Dispatch, September 22, 1893.
40. New York Times,
September 17, 1893. These figures coincide with those given
in the local papers at the time. Recent figures are much
greater, giving Arkansas City 70,000 boomers.
41. Canal City
Dispatch, September 22, 1893.
42. Arkansas Valley
Democrat, September 22, 1893.
43. Ibid., September
8, 1893.
44. Denver
Republican, September 18, 1893.
45. Caldwell News,
November 2, 1893.
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