History of the Cherokee: Samuel’s Memory

Samuel Cloud turned 9 years old on the Trail of Tears. Samuel's Memory is told by his great-great grandson,
Michael Rutledge, in his paper Forgiveness in the Age of Forgetfulness. Michael, a citizen of the Cherokee Nation of
Oklahoma, is a law student at Arizona State University.
It is Spring. The leaves are on the trees. I am playing with my friends when white men in uniforms ride up to our
home. My mother calls me. I can tell by her voice that something is wrong. Some of the men ride off. My mother
tells me to gather my things, but the men don't allow us time to get anything. They enter our home and begin
knocking over pottery and looking into everything. My mother and I are taken by several men to where their horses
are and are held there at gun point. The men who rode off return with my father, Elijah. They have taken his rifle and
he is walking toward us.
I can feel his anger and frustration. There is nothing he can do. From my mother I feel fear. I am filled with fear, too.
What is going on? I was just playing, but now my family and my friends' families are gathered together and told to
walk at the point of a bayonet.
We walk a long ways. My mother does not let me get far from her. My father is walking by the other men, talking in
low, angry tones. The soldiers look weary, as though they'd rather be anywhere else but here.
They lead us to a stockade. They herd us into this pen like we are cattle. No one was given time to gather any
possessions. The nights are still cold in the mountains and we do not have enough blankets to go around. My mother
holds me at night to keep me warm. That is the only time I feel safe. I feel her pull me to her tightly. I feel her warm
breath in my hair. I feel her softness as I fall asleep at night.
As the days pass, more and more of our people are herded into the stockade. I see other members of my clan. We
children try to play, but the elders around us are anxious and we do not know what to think. I often sit and watch the
others around me. I observe the guards. I try not to think about my hunger. I am cold.
Several months have passed and still we are in the stockades. My father looks tired. He talks with the other men, but
no one seems to know what to do or what is going to happen. We hear that white men have moved into our homes
and are farming our fields. What will happen to us? We are to march west to join the Western Cherokees. I don't
want to leave these mountains.
My mother, my aunts and uncles take me aside one day. "Your father died last night," they tell me. My mother and
my father's clan members are crying, but I do not understand what this means. I saw him yesterday. He was sick, but
still alive. It doesn't seem real. Nothing seems real. I don't know what any of this means. It seems like yesterday, I
was playing with my friends.
It is now Fall. It seems like forever since I was clean. The stockade is nothing but mud. In the morning it is stiff with
frost. By mid-afternoon, it is soft and we are all covered in it. The soldiers suddenly tell us we are to follow them.
We are led out of the stockade. The guards all have guns and are watching us closely. We walk. My mother keeps me
close to her. I am allowed to walk with my uncle or an aunt, occasionally.
We walk across the frozen earth. Nothing seems right anymore. The cold seeps through my clothes. I wish I had my
blanket. I remember last winter I had a blanket, when I was warm. I don't feel like I'll ever be warm again. I
remember my father's smile. It seems like so long ago.
We walked for many days. I don't know how long it has been since we left our home, but the mountains are behind
us. Each day, we start walking a little later. They bury the dead in shallow graves, because the ground is frozen. As
we walk past white towns, the whites come out to watch us pass. No words are spoken to them. No words are said to
us. Still, I wish they would stop staring. I wish it were them walking in this misery and I were watching them. It is
because of them that we are walking. I don't understand why, but I know that much. They made us leave our homes.
They made us walk to this new place we are heading in the middle of winter. I do not like these people. Still, they
stare at me as I walk past.
We come to a big river, bigger than I have ever seen before. It is flowing with ice. The soldiers are not happy. We set
up camp and wait. We are all cold and the snow and ice seem to hound us, claiming our people one by one. North is
the color of blue, defeat and trouble. From there a chill wind blows for us as we wait by a frozen river. We wait to
die.
My mother is coughing now. She looks worn. Her hands and face are burning hot. My aunts and uncles try to take
care of me, so she can get better. I don't want to leave her alone. I just want to sit with her. I want her to stroke my
hair, like she used to do. My aunts try to get me to sleep by them, but at night, I creep to her side. She coughs and it
wracks her whole body. When she feels me by her side, she opens her blanket and lets me in. I nestle against her
feverish body. I can make it another day, I know, because she is here.
When I went to sleep last night, my mother was hot and coughing worse than usual. When I woke up, she was cold.
I tried to wake her up, but she lay there. The soft warmth she once was, she is no more. I kept touching her, as hot
tears stream down my face. She couldn't leave me. She wouldn't leave me.
I hear myself call her name, softly, then louder. She does not answer. My aunt and uncle come over to me to see
what is wrong. My aunt looks at my mother. My uncle pulls me from her. My aunt begins to wail. I will never forget
that wail. I did not understand when my father died. My mother's death I do not understand, but I suddenly know
that I am alone. My clan will take care of me, but I will be forever denied her warmth, the soft fingers in my hair,
her gentle breath as we slept. I am alone. I want to cry. I want to scream in rage. I can do nothing.
We bury her in a shallow grave by the road. I will never forget that lonesome hill of stone that is her final bed, as it
fades from my sight. I tread softly by my uncle, my hand in his. I walk with my head turned, watching that small hill
as it fades from my sight. The soldiers make us continue walking. My uncle talks to me, trying to comfort me. I
walk in loneliness.
I know what it is to hate. I hate those white soldiers who took us from our home. I hate the soldiers who make us
keep walking through the snow and ice toward this new home that none of us ever wanted. I hate the people who
killed my father and mother.
I hate the white people who lined the roads in their woolen clothes that kept them warm, watching us pass. None of
those white people are here to say they are sorry that I am alone. None of them care about me or my people. All they
ever saw was the color of our skin. All I see is the color of theirs and I hate them.

How would you characterize

Samuel?

In your opinion, what is the

most difficult experience
Samuel endured?

How would you feel if you were

Samuel, and you and your
family was forced to evacuate
your home?

Why is Samuel so bitter

towards “white people”?

If you could say something to

Samuel to ease his pain or
lessen his anger and hate,
what would you say?
 The Choctaws Experience

From Ron LaFitte (Author Unknown)

“It had been made clear to the Choctaw, that the Whites in Washington cared little for our situation that either we
willingly moved, or by military force we would be moved. We were not ignorant savages, but industrious farmers,
merchants, and businessmen of all types. We were educated people, many were Christians. We had an organized
system of government and a codified body of law. ....

The Chiefs and Warriors signed the treaty, realizing they had no option. For doing this the government officials
guaranteed, in the body of the treaty, safe conveyance to our new homes. (Do not forget for a moment that in this
treaty, the Choctaw traded 10.3 million acres of land east of the Mississippi for 10.3 million acres in Oklahoma and
Arkansas that we already owned under previous treaties.) Further, it included provisions ... to assist the people to
make a new start. One half of the people were to depart almost immediately, the rest the next year.

After the signing of the treaty, many saw their land and property sold before their own eyes. The “conveyances”
promised turn out to be a forced march. At the point of a gun, the pace killed many of the old, exposure and bad food
killed most. Rotten beef and vegetables are poor provisions, even for the idle. Many walked the entire distance
without shoes, barely clothed. What supplies we were given had been rejected by the whites. ... Many of the old and
the children died on the road. At each allowed stop, the dead were buried. Hearing of this, many escaped. They knew
that as they signed the rolls to be “removed”, that this might as well be their death warrants. They took refuge in the
hills, the swamps, and other places too inhospitable for the whites. Even as this occurred, those in charge reported
their “peaceful progress” to Congress, who looked no further.

The “fertile lands, alive with game, lush with forests” turned out to be bone-dry and covered in alkalai pits ... Again,
pressure was brought to bear on the Choctaw. By this time the Cherokee, Chickasaw, Cree, Kickapoo, Seminole,
Wyandotte, Lenapi, Mohawk, and others whose names you would not recognize, had their reservations shrunk
around them. The Choctaw had only been the first to be removed, the government drunk with power and in fit of lust
for land, had removed nearly all. ...

Even now, when the tribes speak of sovereignty, men ... wonder why. All we ever asked for was the dignity of free
men, to live at peace, and worship God in our own ways.”
 Address to the Cherokee Nation

General Winfield Scott, May 10, 1838

“Cherokees! The President of the United States has sent me with a powerful army, to cause you, in obedience to the
treaty of 1835 (the Treaty of New Echota), to join that part of your people who have already established in
prosperity on the other side of the Mississippi. Unhappily, the two years which were allowed for the purpose, you
have suffered to pass away without following and without making any preparation to follow; and now, or by the time
that this solemn address shall reach your distant settlements, the emigration must be commenced in haste, but I hope
without disorder. I have no power, by granting a farther delay, to correct the error that you have committed. The full
moon of May is already on the wane; and before another shall have passed away, every Cherokee man, woman and
child in those states must be in motion to join their brethren in the far West.

My friends! This is no sudden determination on the part of the President, whom you and I must now obey. By the
treaty, the emigration was to have been completed on or before the 23rd of this month; and the President has
constantly kept you warned, during the two years allowed, through all his officers and agents in this country, that the
treaty would be enforced.

I am come to carry out that determination. ... All those troops, regular and militia, are your friends. Receive them
and confide in them as such. Obey them when they tell you that you can remain no longer in this country. Soldiers
are as kind-hearted as brave, and the desire of every one of us is to execute our painful duty in mercy. We are
commanded by the President to act towards you in that spirit, and much is also the wish of the whole people of
America.

Chiefs, head-men and warriors! Will you then, by resistance, compel us to resort to arms? God forbid! Or will you,
by flight, seek to hide yourselves in mountains and forests, and thus oblige us to hunt you down? Remember that, in
pursuit, it may be impossible to avoid conflicts. The blood of the white man or the blood of the red man may be
spilt, and, if spilt, however accidentally, it may be impossible ... to prevent a general war and carnage. Think of this,
my Cherokee brethren! I am an old warrior, and have been present at many a scene of slaughter, but spare me, I
beseech you, the horror of witnessing the destruction of the Cherokees.

Do not, I invite you, even wait for the close approach of the troops; but make such preparations for emigration as
you can and hasten to ... where you all will be received in kindness by officers selected for the purpose. You will find
food for all and clothing for the destitute ... and thence at your ease and in comfort be transported to your new
homes, according to the terms of the treaty. This is the address of a warrior to warriors....”
 Our People: The Cherokee

Excerpts from a 1970 interview with James and Jack Bushyhead, grandsons of the 19th Century Cherokee Chief, in the
St. Louis Post-Dispatch

“... The Removal Act of 1830, signed by President Andrew Jackson argued that “no state could achieve proper culture,
civilization, and progress, as long as Indians remained within its boundaries.” Jackson ordered that the Five Civilized
Tribes, the Cherokees, Creek, Choctaws, Chickasaws and Seminoles, must move from the southern states to the Indian
Territory, now known as Oklahoma – a word that means “red people”. It was solemnly sworn in a “permanent treaty” to
be the Indian’s Promised Land “for as long as grass grows and water flows” – which turned out to mean until the white
man wanted more land. ...

THE CHEROKEES, about 16,000 in number, put up the greatest resistance and were the last to be evicted. They were
not nomads, as were many other tribes. They loved their native hills and valleys, streams and forests, fields and herds.
They enjoyed established houses and communities, and had learned to “talk on paper” like the white man. Many had
accepted the white man’s God, and they had translated the Bible into Cherokee language. The Cherokees had adopted a
constitution asserting that they were a sovereign and free nation, and consequently were recognized by world powers.

A treaty with the United States preserved rights to their homeland in parts of Tennessee and Georgia, but when gold
was discovered in Georgia, the state’s proclamation that “all laws, orders, and regulations of any kind made with the
Cherokee Indians are declared null and void” resulted in a horrendous land-grab and then in a death march which is one
of the saddest and most disturbing events in America’s so called manifest destiny. One fourth of the Cherokees perished
as they were first herded into stockades and then “set toward the setting sun” in cold, hunger, illness, and in complete
desolation.

The Army commanded some of 13 separate groups, while others were hired out to contractors who were paid $65 by
the Government for food and medicines for each person in their care, money that was often not used for its intended
purpose. Two of the detachments traveled by river while the others made their miserable way by land across Tennessee,
Kentucky, Illinois and Missouri. ...

Reports from earlier groups making the 1000-mile march contained such starkly revealing messages as, “Cholera broke
out and death was among us hourly,” and “489 persons from 800 arrived.” The log of a detachment which traveled by
water reported, “Three hundred and eleven persons drowned when an overloaded flatboat capsized.”... Because of the
ice-choked waters, the crossing itself took nearly a month. ...

In their new home, the displaced tribe set to work to attack the raw frontier by building homes, schools and churches.
They set up a government and named their capital Tahlequah, still the cultural center of the Cherokees and the source
of documented evidence of their history. ...

The Indian Territory and the Cherokee Nation became only something that once existed when Oklahoma became a
state in 1907, and the Indian people found themselves forced to abandon their age-old practice of common ownership
and to begin to live according to the white man’s rules ...”
 A Soldier’s Story

Excerpt from Private John G. Burnett’s description of 1838-39

“... The removal of Cherokee Indians from their life long homes in the year of 1838 found me a young man in the
prime of life and a Private soldier in the American Army. Being acquainted with many of the Indians and able to
fluently speak their language, I was sent as interpreter into the Smoky Mountain Country in May, 1838 ... I saw the
helpless Cherokees arrested and dragged from their homes, and driven at the bayonet point into the stockades. And
in the chill of a drizzling rain on an October morning I saw them loaded like cattle or sheep into six hundred and
forty-five wagons and started toward the west.

One can never forget the sadness and solemnity of that morning. Chief John Ross led in prayer and when the bugle
sounded and the wagons started rolling many of the children rose to their feet and waved their little hands good-by
to their mountain homes, knowing they were leaving them forever. Many of these helpless people did not have
blankets and many of them had been driven from home barefooted. ...

Washington, D.C., had decreed that they must be driven West and their lands given to the white man ... 4000
regulars and 3000 volunteer soldiers under command of General Winfield Scott, marched into the Indian country and
wrote the blackest chapter on the pages of American history.

Men working in the fields were arrested and driven to the stockades. Women were dragged from their homes by
soldiers whose language they could not understand. Children were often separated from their parents and driven into
the stockades with the sky for a blanket and the earth for a pillow. And often the old and infirm were prodded with
bayonets to hasten them to the stockades.

In one home death had come during the night. A little sad-faced child had died and was lying on a bear skin couch
and some women were preparing the little body for burial. All were arrested and driven out, leaving the child in the
cabin. I don’t know who buried the body.

In another home was a frail mother, apparently a widow, and three small children, one just a baby. When told that
she must go, the mother gathered the children at her feet, prayed a humble prayer in her native tongue, patted the old
family dog on the head, told the faithful creature good-by, with a baby strapped on her back and leading a child with
each hand started on her exile. But the task was too great for that frail mother. A stroke of heart failure relieved her
sufferings. She sunk and died with her baby on her back and her other two children clinging to her hands....

On the morning of November the 17th we encountered a terrific sleet and snow storm with freezing temperatures
and from that day until we reached the end of the fateful journey on March the 26th, 1839, the sufferings of the
Cherokees were awful. The trail of the exiles was a trail of death. They had to sleep in the wagons and on the ground
without fire. And I have known as many as twenty-two of them to die in one night of pneumonia due to ill treatment,
cold, and exposure. Among this number was the beautiful Christian wife of Chief John Ross. This noble-hearted
woman died a martyr to childhood, giving her only blanket for the protection of a sick child. She rode thinly clad
through a blinding sleet and snow storm, developed pneumonia and died in the still hours of a bleak winter night...

The long painful journey to the west ended March 26th, 1839, with four-thousand silent graves reaching from the
foothills of the Smoky Mountains to what is known as Indian Territory in the West. ...”

Adapted from www.cherokee.org/Culture/HistoryPage.asp?ID=49


 The Creeks’ Removal

Excerpts from Ocmulgee Old Fields by Sylvia Flowers

“... (the) invention of the cotton gin in 1793 greatly accelerated (the Whites’) desire for rich river bottomland. ...
pressed the federal government to remove all Indians to areas west of the Mississippi River. ...

The Creeks were divided. Many ... believing voluntary removal was the only way their people would escape
complete annihilation. Others became militant, preferring to remain in their homeland and pursue their traditional
way of life. Civil war broke out between the two factions.

... An armed band returning from Spanish Florida was attacked by Alabama settlers. The Indians retaliated and ...
Andrew Jackson with Georgia militia, federal troops, and a force of volunteers, including Creek allies, laid waste to
the Creek Nation. ... Afterwards, the federal government took some 22 million acres of Creek land bordering
Spanish Florida.

In 1825, the infamous Treaty of Indian Springs, ceding the last Creek lands in Georgia .... Though the treaty was
declared illegal by the federal government, Georgia authorities continued to press for removal.... The Creeks were
forced out of the state.

Some joined Seminole relatives in Florida; many moved into Alabama. About 1,300 ... resettled to the valley of the
Arkansas River in “Indian Territory”, now the state of Oklahoma, on lands given them under the government’s
removal program. Voluntary removal proved too slow for the ever-growing tide of settlers and the government
stepped up its efforts to get the Creek chiefs to sign removal treaties.

... Creek farms were burned and families physically forced from their land. Homeless, demoralized bands roamed
the countryside, foraging to keep from starving ... Some of the displaced Indians lashed back by killing white settlers
and destroying cabins, barns and crops. Thus began the so-called Creek War of 1836 which ended in July of that
year when about 2,500 Creeks, including several hundred warriors in chains, were marched ... beginning their forced
removal to a new homeland in Indian Territory. ... 14,000 Creeks made the three-month journey to Oklahoma, a trip
of over 800 land miles and another 400 by water. Most left with only what they could carry. An observer was moved
to write:

‘Thousands of them are entirely destitute of shoes and many of them are almost naked, and but few of them have
anything more on their persons than a light dress calculated only for the summer, or for a warm climate. ... Many of
them have in this way had their feet frost-bitten; and being unable to travel ... died on the road from exhaustion ...
and their relations and friends could do nothing more for them than cover them with boughs and bushes to keep off
the vultures, which followed their route by thousands....’

More than 3,500 Creeks died along this “Trail of Tears”. ... Despite continued hardships, its citizens carved a new
life for themselves in Oklahoma. ...”

Adapted from www.yvwiiusdinvnohii.net/articles/princes.html

 Source Study

Name________________________________________________________________________________________

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This reading can BEST be described as a:

A. primary source B. secondary source C. tertiary source

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What important historical FACTS did the author convey in the reading?
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What OPINIONS did the author express in the reading?

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What is YOUR OPINION of the information in the reading?

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 Source Study

Name________________________________________________________________________________________

Source Title __________________________________________________________________________________

This reading can BEST be described as a:

A. primary source B. secondary source C. tertiary source

Explain why you classified the source as you did:

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_____________________________________________________________________________________________
_____________________________________________________________________________________________
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What important historical FACTS did the author convey in the reading?
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What OPINIONS did the author express in the reading?

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What is YOUR OPINION of the information in the reading?

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1. What type of information does this
chart provide?

2. Which tribes had the highest number

of deaths from removal? Why?

3. What can you infer from the data

about the quality of life on the trail?

4. Compare and contrast the data about

each tribe. What similarities did most
tribes share? Which tribe’s experience
was most unlike the rest?