News concerning the Excelsior Colony’s plans to emigrate from Brooklyn to newly-opened lands in the American West began trickling out of the New York press on February 17, 1869, with an item buried near the bottom of a column on the front page of the New York Sun.
Farmers and mechanics who wish to go West are invited to a meeting of the Excelsior Colony Association, 68 East Broadway, this evening.
Meeting several times in the coming weeks, the group heard glowing reports from a fact-finding committee, who nonetheless failed to zero in on an ideal location. Members would have to view the region first-hand and decide for themselves where to set up their new homes and businesses.
On May 2nd, the New York Dispatch reprinted an item from the Atchison, Kansas, Champion announcing that the colony had passed through that city on April 17.
A Colony of 100 persons, called the Excelsior Colony, arrived last night. They are from New York State, and are going to settle on the Republican river in Jewell county, about 200 miles west of this city. Major Downs, Land Commissioner of the Central Branch Road, arrived with the colony. We understand that Major Downs, during his absence in the East, has sold over $180,000 worth of the railroad lands. He reports that several large colonies will arrive here during the next two weeks.
After a prolonged period of silence on the matter, New Yorkers would be treated to the whole blood-curdling saga of what had happened to their former neighbors after their arrival in Kansas. Although the names William Stokes, George Punouf, and Patrick O’Brien are also attached to the account appearing in New York papers, the work was no doubt chiefly penned by Harry Wallin.
WHITE ROCK CREEK, June 12 - The Excelsior Colony, with which I traveled, left New York, if you remember, on the 13th of April last. The colony was composed chiefly of New York and Brooklyn men, and all went smoothly with us until the night of the 16th, when the train on the St. Joseph Railroad, one of the most miserable railways in existence, was hurled off the track. We consoled ourselves with the fact, which we there learned, that running off the track was a very common occurrence, the roads being kept in such a wretched condition. After eight hours’ vexatious delay we managed to get on again, cheered by the probability of another accident before the night was over.
AT THE JUMPING-OFF PLACE.
We arrived safe, however, at last a Waterville, where this branch of the Pacific Railroad terminated. The place was a wretched hole - perhaps as good as one could expect in such a thinly settled and uncouth neighborhood; but still, to our Eastern senses it looked anything but pleasant. There was a dilapidated building there which they had the cool impudence to call a hotel. Men, woman, children, cats, and dogs were all huddled together in it for the night in characteristcally frontier style. But no matter. We grew less sensitive after a while as you may imagine.
ON THE LOOKOUT.
In Waterville we spent two days, at the end of which we started in search of a suitable location for our colony. This was really the business of the committee appointed for the purpose, but, as they failed to find a good spot, we had to do so ourselves. We traversed in our search at least 125 miles of ground without finding a place that was thought a good one by our experienced president, Mr. Walker. Finally, we came to a halt, and looked at each other with faces decidedly dejected. We were utterly worn out. Many of the men had dropped off on the way from sheer fatigue, and we were compelled to attend carefully to them, that hey might not get lost and starve on the way. As we thus were dolefully ruminating, deliverance came in the shape of an old frontier man, Lovell by name.
THE RIGHT SPOT AT LAST.
We hailed him as a godsend.
“Boys,” said he, “you’re pretty well used up, I guess. Now, look here. There’s a spot I know of, called White Rock Creek, that’s the prettiest little garden this side o’ the Mississippi. It’s just the thing you want. There’s wood to be had for the cutting and water as much as you can use. There’s — but we were all animation again and urged him to lead us to this paradise, this second Eden.
We placed our men whose feet were too sore to walk in the wagons we had taken with us to carry our baggage, ammunition and guns, and tramped on once more. We reached the place as last. We had now made some nine days’ weary marching over the bare plains. You may imagine, then, the deep exultation we felt on arriving at a spot like this. It was all that old Lovell had represented it to be.
GOING TO WORK IN EARNEST.
We went to work immediately, now that we had found what we wanted. Each one of us picked out 160 acres in the place he liked best, and began planting potatoes and the like. We put up our tents, and a few of us built log huts, as being more comfortable and substantial. The ladies with us did their share of the work, too, and altogether we were getting along excellently. Where in the city did we ever have such an abundance of game? Or where in the city did we ever have such a keen appetite, as after a hard day’s work here in the forest or on the plain? We began to feel a strength and self-reliance that we had never felt before.
THE ALARM.
But in the midst of our pleasant dreams an alarming rumor reached us that the Indians were approaching and were killing and plundering all along their path. For several days we were kept in fear and suspense by reports of this kind. We waited anxiously for the return of the buffalo hunters from their expedition; and when they did come at last we crowded around them for the news.
They had met the Indians, they said, and been chased by them, escaping with the utmost difficulty. They warned us to be on our guard, and rode on. A report reached us a short time after that four hunters had been killed by the Indians. A number of men from the Creek armed themselves and started for the spot where the murder was said to have taken place. The bodies, horribly mutilated, were found in the creek where they had been thrown, some nine miles from the place in which we were camping.