What did Platteville look like in 1827?

A land full of ravines and springs (more than 17 springs within what would become the city limits) was what greeted early settlers. The area around Platteville was so plush, so full of resources and places for shelter, that its hard to believe it was not a meeting ground for Native American trade and ceremony.

Below, you’ll find a copy of “Platteville Ninety Years Ago, as the Site Appeared to our Pioneers / Also Some Account of the Abundance of Water that Greeted Early Settlers” by J. H. Evans, from the January 31, 1917 Platteville Journal. Evans describes what the early settlers saw, based on his own 70 year history here and conversations with city founder J.H. Rountree and others. Since the article is a bit hard to read, I’ve also transcribed it.

Following this, you’ll find a Wisconsin State Journal article from 1962 that talks about the native gatherings that some recall being held in this area. That post is under construction now, but should be finished soon. If you’re interested in the possible mound complex that’s right here in Platteville, stay tuned.

Here’s the article:




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“Platteville Ninety Years Ago, as the Site Appeared to our Pioneers / Also Some Account of the Abundance of Water that Greeted Early Settlers” by J. H. Evans.  From the January 31, 1917 Platteville Journal.

Platteville ninety years ago, as the site appeared to our pioneers

Also some account of the abundance of water that greeted our early settlers

By J.H. Evans

Transcribed from January 31, 1917 Platteville Journal

“This blessed year of 1917 marks the ninetieth anniversary of the white man’s advent on the present site of Platteville.  Emanuel Metcalf’s accidental discovery of lead near the location of the City Water Works was unquestionably the primary cause of the founding of the city of Platteville.  It was far from being the ideal site of the prosperous city tht now graces the location.  If the traditional history of a combination of the “Badger” and the trapper Metcalf had made the discovery of mineral about half a mile further upstream, Platteville would have been located on much better ground.

“Just imagine the appearance of the 1920 acres that now comprise the corporate limits of Platteville which greeted the eyes of the pioneers who came here in 1827.  The topographical features then were very different from that which meets the eye of the present dweller.  At that time the site was covered with a dense forest of heavy timber, principally different kinds of oak, linn, and aspen, with a thick undergrowth of crab-apple, sumac, and briers.  The site was traversed by a series of low abrupt ridges, generally running from North and North-west to the South and South-East.  Many of these ridges had an altitude from four to six feet higher than at present, while the intervening ravines in nearly every instance had many springs of running water and often swamps where horses and cattle were occasionally mired. Probably there was no other place of like area better supplied with living spring water.

“To give an idea of the abundant supply of water, I will try to locate some of the principle springs which had something to do with fixing the homes of the early settlers.  Most of these springs have disappeared through the effects of mining and the filling of smaller ravines.

“The Rountree spring came from a ledge of rock in the ravine which crossed Pine Street, and on the northwest corner of the lot now owned by Prof. McGregor.  This spring did not have a strong flow of water, but it was important from the fact that it caused the location of Maj. Rountree’s log cabin, that being the first house built in Platteville.  After the flow of water ceased, Rountree built on the site the first ice house in Platteville.  Much filling has raised the grade several feet. 

“The next most important spring was the ‘Vineyard Spring,’ located on the lot now owned by Rev. William Waters about eighty feet East of the present line of Water Street.  This spring had a large flow of water.  J.R. Vineyard built a commodious spring-house with a projecting portico over the spring on the north side.  His dwelling of frame stood near the present site of the home of A. Kies.  Further up this ravine were several springs, notably those of Samuel Pross and Frank Rowe.  Below the Vineyard springs were other springs, those of Mrs. Nettie, Judge S.O. Paine and L.L. Goodell being best remembered.  Crossing Main Street, a copious flow of water came out on a lot where the livery stable now stands.  This was known as the Poersh spring, belonging to a man of that name who followed the vocation of “soap-maker.”  Further south and on the west side of the ravine was a fine flow of water known as the “Hawley spring” now the property of Meyer lumber company.  This spring is probably inexistence at this time.

“This ravine was a noted land-mark in early times, north of Main Street it was a boggy marsh covered with a scrubby growth of timber and brush. On the east side (of Carl’s addition), the principle raines of lead were located.  At Main Street, there was a greater flow of water than at this time.  This was crossed by a low wooden bridge at least fifteen feet below present grade.  The apex of the ridge near the High School, and the ridge crossing Main Street between Oak and Second Streets being from four to eight feet higher than present grade made the crossing in the ravine so difficult that teams were often compelled to double in order to effect a passage. 

“A spring much used in early times was located in a small ravine traversed by Prof. Williams.  It served for a few years for the stables of Maj. Rountree, failing in a few years it was replaced by a well.  Another spring remembered by early settlers came to the surface in the ravine which beads near the former home of W.H. Oettiker.  It disappeared many years ago, long before the land was cleared by the heavy growth of timber. 

“A notable spring of early times was located almost exactly under the southwest corner of the City Hall.  It was on the north side of the ravine which headed near the north-west corner of the Public Square.  This ravine was narrow and quite deep.  So deep where it crossed Main Street between the Hendershot building and the Lumber and Fuel block, the original grade was at least ten feet below present grade.  Here a small wooden bridge was built across the little stream.      

“West of the city along the marshy ravine which headed near the present Fourth street there were many springs. First in order was the Hardnocks, then came the Doesher spring which afforded water for the cows in pastures as late as ten years ago. On the Grindell property, a spring for a time furnished water for the manufacture of brick. Further west on the H.S. Rountree lot there was a spring with a large flow furnishing abundant water for stock. Near this spring the village boys of 60 years ago (screened by abundant timber) had built a dam to impound water for a ‘swimming hole.’ For a few seasons this afforded the kids a fine bathing pool.   Just on the south of Adams street, on a lot now owned by the E. H. Doescher estate, there was a spring notable in early times as a camping place of emigrants and gypsies.  Further down the ravine there were springs on the Shepherd lot, the Oudyn lot, the Charles Nye lot, the Homer Perry lot, and the Carsten lot.  Doubtless there were others.  Some may yet continue to flow, but most of them have been drained by the shafts sunk for mining.   Along the ridge running west from the Camp grounds, water seemed to be near the surface.  Miners were troubled with water, but the intensive digging and clearing the timber finally drew off the water.  The last spring on the Anthony Sherpherd lot disappeared a few years ago. 

“Note: I have not attempted to name all the springs which furnished great abundance of water to our early settlers.  My recollection goes back over seventy years.  Some of the data here given has been gathered from our early pioneers; notably Major Rountree, J.R. Vineyard, Frederick Hollman, Samuel Moore and others.  I thought a record of these matters concerning the topography of our city should be preserved.”

While researching “Indian Park,” we learned that some residents at the turn of the last century recalled their being *a* multi-day Native American gathering in that park, though no one recalled, or perhaps knew at the time, the reason for the gathering. We’ve speculated that it concerned the mound(s) that we think were more visible in the park when it was a hilly spring-fed area known as “Hill Cemetery” or “Hill Graveyard.” Kristal Prohaska located the article below in the Wisconsin State Journal. In 1962, someone recalled enough to tell the reporter that native people from “miles around congregated there once a year for a pow-wow. They always gathered under a big oak tree for their ceremonials and it is assumed they moved the grapes [graves?!] during one of these times, since they stopped returning rather abruptly.”

“Many Historical Mysteries in Platteville Cemeteries,” Wisconsin Capital Times December 12, 1962

“Indian Park” – Part II – The cholera burial ground

(Or, the part of the story that there’s absolutely no mystery about at all! Updated January 31, 2022)

by Terry Burns, Laurie Graney and Kristal Prohaska

In the first article in this series, we raised a series of questions about this small park in the center of Platteville, Wisconsin. We noted that through this one small space runs a plethora of historic mysteries, echoing against some of the most painful times in the city’s past: the removal of native peoples, the 1850s cholera epidemic, city founder (and slave owner) John Rountree’s control of the press, and the division of people in town into pro- and anti-slavery factions.

We asked whether the small mound in the center was a Native American burial mound and if there are other mounds there; who other than 1812 veteran Thomas Aiken is buried there (and how do we know he was buried there), what is known about the “mystery stone” on the north side of the park, and what is known about the large group of native people were who gathered in Indian Park a century ago for a three-day ceremony.

Platteville’s tiny Indian Park, bounded by North Court and 4th Streets between West Dewey and Lewis Streets, seems to have been intersected by most of the major traumas of 19th-century Platteville: the removal of Native Americans, the cholera epidemic, and the legacy of the Civil War.

To answer these questions, we’ll need to also circle back through local history through several lenses.  In this part of the series, we’ll look at the things we know are certain, and proceed from that to what is probable.

The first line we’ll follow is the story of War of 1812 veteran Thomas Aiken and other cholera victims. We’ll be looking at what has happened that can be locally or nationally documented. We’ll be dealing with recorded history.

The role of two 1800s epidemics (smallpox and cholera) play main roles in this story. The first World War and a third epidemic (Spanish flu) may explain why no one was much paying attention to “Indian Park” when the state, then the city, ordered bodies to be removed from the ground there in 1917 and 1918. We know for certain some of those bodies were never removed; in fact, at least one family, that of William Aiken, was prevented from removing them.

Perhaps those not directly involved were understandably focused on the draft for the Great War: stories of it dominated the Platteville Journal from March 1917 until local soldiers returned. The draft age for “young men” was about to be increased to 40 years of age just before the war ended. As soldiers returned, the “Spanish flu” broke out, and remained through 1919. One can imagine that there was little interest in digging up victims of one epidemic during another.

Let’s begin with names for the park, then move on to one family’s story.

Since the time white settlers first arrived in Plattevile, “Indian Park” has been known by various names (for a more exact reference of who called it what, and when, please see the History of Indian Park page.)

  • Presbyterian/Congregationalist burying ground (1847)
  • Hill Cemetery (1853), Hill Graveyard (1854)
  • Cemetery (1861)
  • Lots 9, 10, 19 & 20 of Covell’s Addition (1869, 1895)
  • — same, plus “Cemetery” (1898)
  • — same, plus “Presbyterian burying ground” (1901)
  • Public property” (1904)
  • “Indian Park” (from at least 1912 and multiple times since)
  • Cemetery Park (1918)
  • Rountree Park (1918)
  • “North Park” (1929 and multiple times through 1961)
  • “Children’s Park” (1938)
  • “Fourth Street Park (also known as North Park and Indian Park)” (1959)
  • “Indian Park” (current name)
Indian Park, Est. 1917. Why this date?

Few if any current residents seem to remember any name but “Indian Park.” Long-time resident Thomas Boll told us that he and his family could not remember any name since Indian Park used since the 1940s. James Boll, who grew up next to the park, also could recall no other name. The sign says “Indian Park, Est. 1917,” though this date relates to when it became a park, not to the specific name (which by the next year, 1918, would briefly be “Cemetery Park” then “Rountree Park.”)  In 1917, the state legislature under Chapter 307 granted the City of Platteville the right to “take care of the grounds therein.”  From this point on, “the use of said lands for interment shall be prohibited and the title thereto shall be vested in the said city of Platteville.”

Popular books on the area invariably refer to it as a place that was once a cemetery and which still contains burials. Two such books are shown below.

Walking Tours of Wisconsin's Historic Towns
Walking Tours of Wisconsin’s Historic Towns (1998) describes the park as an “unmarked cemetery in which cholera victims were buried” (p. 72).
Two Tours of Historic Platteville, Betty Burgett’s 1986 compilation of two Eagle Scout projects one completed by James Burgett (1976) and the other by David Burgett (1984) says that this “block of land has been left unmarred by the advances of civilization because the graves must not be moved due to the fact that the victims died of cholera” (p. 7). It also mentions the marker of 1812 veteran Thomas Aiken.

Many accounts exist of the cholera epidemic that raged in Wisconsin from 1849 through 1855, and peaked in 1850.1 Yet it seems hard to find any obituaries or church sexton records. Why? And if those records don’t exist, how do we know there were cholera burials?

The reason why there aren’t obituaries is fairly simple. The only paper in town, the Independent American started by city founder John Rountree, stopped publication during the epidemic’s peak years of 1850 and 1851.

City founder John H. Rountree encouraged settlers to “explore this section of Country;” that is, to come to Platteville. Here’s an ad he placed in a Galena advertising bulletin in 1835. As has become more common knowledge in recent times, Rountree and some other early settlers also brought slaves into Platteville, then part of the free Michigan Territory. This ad appeared as the frontispiece in Gardner, Douglas and Greens 1922 “Early Days in Platteville,” as noted below.

One may speculate why: Rountree had previously advertised in places like Galena for settlers to come to Platteville, and perhaps it was not easy to recruit people to town during an epidemic! From a practical perspective, it may also be that the manpower necessary for printing a paper was considered an unneeded luxury at that time.

What about the lack of church records? That brings us to a point we’ll explore in greater detail below: the Presbyterian church in town, associated with the fledgling Platteville Academy, had in the mid-1840s begun the unusual step of changing its governance structure. Here we see the first submerged hint of the slavery/anti-slavery factions in Platteville. The Presbyterian church nationally had taken a strong anti-slavery stance as early as 1818; city founder Rountree (and some others in town) owned slaves through the 1840s. Yet at least two other homes in Platteville or the vicinity were stops on the underground railroad, ways that sympathetic northern whites helped escaped slaves to freedom in Canada. There were also at least two free Black families in Platteville, and many more in the Pleasant Ridge community in Lancaster. Perhaps the anti-slavery/pro-slavery drama of early Grant county should be an article or book of its own, and indeed material on this subject is now available in ways it was not even a generation ago.2 But let’s return to that major conflict after we follow the story of the one veteran we know is buried in the park, Thomas Aiken.

Mary Andrews
Four-year-old Mary Andrews, sister Elizabeth and mother Mary all died of cholera in September, 1850.
Thomas Sprague
Miner Thomas Sprague, infant John Sprague, and seven-year-old Julia Sprague all died of cholera in June 1850.

How do we know the name of not just Aiken, but other cholera victims? First and most logically, their families knew their loved ones had died, and many of those families left written histories. In three cases, the stories are mentioned on ancestry.com or find-a-grave.com. Secondly, 1850 was a census year, and along with the census, there was, for deaths that took place during six months of 1850, the U.S. Federal Census Mortality Schedule. The church of Latter-Day Saints has digitized these records; they’re now widely available on places like ancestry.com. In this database, once can find the names of many but not all of those who died.3 Some families, like the Sprague family and the Andrews family, lost multiple members. Not all of those who died are listed: for example, Thomas Aiken and his son William’s fiance Eleanor Donelson are not. Why? Because they were still alive when the 1850 census was taken but died later on.

Remember that 1812 veteran Aiken’s marker is the one legible marker left in the park. Yet the marker is clearly not from 1850. How did it get there? That itself is an interesting story.

Thomas Aiken's headstone
Thomas Aiken’s headstone. Google maps street-view, photo courtesy of Jessie Brogley.

In 1917, when the state then later the city ordered all bodies in the park be removed, Thomas P. Aiken’s son William Aiken was still alive. He had two headstones carved, one for his father and the other for his one-time fiance, Eleanor Donelson, who had also died of the epidemic. (Years after his fiancee’s death, William Aiken married a young Swiss woman named Brugger, and many Bruggers still reside in Platteville today.) William Aiken endeavored to move his father and Eleanor Donelson to Hillside cemetery. But then he had to stop. He was told they couldn’t be moved.

Why? Because they were cholera victims, and no one knew then if exhuming the bodies would again spread the disease. There might have been a city order to remove the bodies, but not only did many people not follow it: some, like Aiken, were prevented from following it.

Let’s fast forward to 1975.

A copy of Laura Graney’s typed letter to the the Platteville Journal. A picture of the headstone William Aiken had made for his father is attached to the upper-right.

That year, William Aiken’s granddaughter Laura Graney (mother-in-law to Laurie Graney, one of the authors of this piece) saw an article in the local Platteville Journal‘s folklore column that stated many people believed there was an “Indian” buried in the middle of the park. The article also stated that “all bodies, with the exception of the Indian, were moved.” As she said, “This is not true.”

She told the story we’ve presented in abbreviated form above. To the letter, she attached a picture of the headstone that her grandfather was unable to use for his father. That stone, and the one for Eleanor Donelson, still exist on the Aiken-Graney farm, because the Graneys were never able to exhume the bodies and move them to the proposed new location. The Platteville Journal printed the letter on April 8, 1975.

The article as printed in the April 8, 1975 Platteville Journal

We owe a lot to Laura Graney and the Leo M. Kane American Legion Post #42 for what followed.

In the spirit of the U.S. Bicentennial in 1976 and with the help of Mrs. Graney and her record-keeping, Leo Kane American Legion Post #42 was able to obtain and put in an official veteran’s headstone for Thomas P. Aiken.

That’s the stone you see in the park today. The Platteville Journal article about this dedication appears below.

Platteville Journal dedication article
A July 1976 Platteville Journal article covered the dedication ceremony for THomas P. Aiken’s tombstone in Indian Park
Since that time, other articles have appeared about Aiken, such as this May 23, 2018 article by UW-Platteville archivist James Hibbard

Now that we know something about the group we know is buried in Indian Park, let’s consider another group of settlers who might be buried there: smallpox victims.

In 1835, surveying was begun to plot out the first lots and sections of the city of Platteville. Known as the “Original Plan of the Village of Platteville,” this survey was expanded the following year to include 28 more lots, including the park/cemetery. Maj. Rountree advertised in Galena papers for people to move to Platteville.

In 1837, Thomas P. Aiken was among those who arrived, traveling with his family and the Donelson family up from Illinois. In 1839, he and his family settled at the current location of the Aiken-Graney farm. That same year, the Platteville Academy (which would become the State Normal College then merge with the Mining school to become UW-Platteville) was founded. It was closely associated with the anti-slavery Presbyterian church. In fact, until 1853, the church and the Academy met in the same building. Presbyterian Rev. John Lewis and his wife Electa Lewis taught there, along with the first principle, Josiah Pickard.

But in 1843, disaster struck. Smallpox raged in Platteville from December 1843 to February 1844.   The population was around 500, and 226 got smallpox, according to a Presbyterian Missionary report probably written by Alvin Dixon and extensively quoted in “Early Days in Platteville” (p. 14).4 There is no record of where those who died were buried, but as late as 1854 there were only two graveyards in the city, one being “Hill Graveyard,” now known as “Indian Park.” It seems logical that those who died of cholera only a few years later might be buried the same place as smallpox burials from less than a decade before. But there’s no record of this that we can find.

Similarly, there the stone we’ve come to call the “mystery stone,” located on the northern side of the park near 4th street.

Mystery stone
No one so far has deciphered what the words are on this “mystery stone.” Photo by Kristal Prohaska.

What does it say? How old is it? No one we know–and two of us are life-long area residents as are our parents–has ever deciphered it.5 Looking closely, we have tried every name possible. Is this “Montgomery” misspelled? Are the letters above the main name Latin, or Roman numerals? We agree with Rollo Jamison Museum Director Erik Flesch, who reads the final letters as –MEEV. Is this, as he has suggested, an Eastern European, perhaps Bulgarian or Hungarian, last name, and the people or persons buried separately because of the early prejudice against Eastern Europeans? We don’t know. None of the names we could tentatively suggest match burial records or other death records… though of course, the further back in time one goes, the more likely it is for a death to be undocumented. Could this be a smallpox burial? A Menomonie name (since they tend to be very long single words, like this one)? Again, we don’t know.

That the burial stone has Roman letters at the least suggests contact with European or British Isles settlers, trappers or traders, but that could be before the town existed. This stone could be much older than the other burials in the park, as there were non-natives passing through the area long before Platteville existed. If it were the stone of someone who died and whose family or fellow trappers or traders had to continue on, it might be similar to the stone described to the left, placed alongside the Oregon Trail over the body of Plattevillian John Holman, who followed the gold rush to California along with Lewis & Clark Expedition old-timer Alexander Hamilton Willard and his family. Holman died and was placed under a large stone, perhaps like our “mystery stone,” to keep his body from being eaten by varmints.

Lancaster news article
This Lancaster Teller article from the early 190os reported “almost thirty bodies” buried in the land now called “Indian Park.” It also alludes to some of the other legal battles that have swirled around this small parcel of land.

So, what do we have so far? We know that the area called Indian Park was a cholera burial ground and still contains many unmarked graves. It contains a headstone that may be older that those burials, but we don’t know what that stone says. We know the terrain of the park once looked much different–a hilly area called Hill Graveyard that once contained many nearby springs.

How did this area turn into a city park? We’ve alluded to struggles between different slavery and anti-slavery factions and a plethora of deed changes and name changes. Its time to look at some of those changes and how they connect to regional history.

In the Fall of 1847 Reverend John Lewis and his family arrived in Platteville from nearby New Diggings. Rev. Lewis and Josiah Pickard are known today for their efforts in helping John Rountree found the Academy, which was the early start of the UW-Platteville. Lewis was installed as pastor of the Presbyterian Church; Pickard was the Academy’s first Principle.

On February 22, 1848, John Rountree deeded land to the Presbyterian Church to be used as a burying ground.  It was to be “free to all persons to use and occupy for the purpose of interring the dead without tax assessment or charge.”  Today, this parcel of land is known as Indian Park, but at that time, it became known as Hill Cemetery or Hill Graveyard (as reported in two articles, one in 1853 and the other in 1854, in the only paper in town, the Independent American, owned by John Rountree.)

Then something strange happened: the Presbyterian church that Lewis ministered at switched denominations. Lewis continued to preach there, but it was suddenly Congregationalist and he was Presbyterian.

Its easier to start a new church or to become an independent church than to shift from one protestant denomination to another. But on February 6, 1849 the Wisconsin State Legislature passed an act under Chapter 25 that authorized the Presbyterian Church in Platteville, Grant County, to change its name and form of government.6 The church it became, the Congregationalist Church in Platteville, has since been designated a national historic landmark, and this is an important albeit little explored part of their history.

The same year, 1849, the Presbyterian Church property was deeded to the Congregational Church for the sum of $1.  The deed specifically mentions the special act of the Wisconsin State Legislature mentioned above, as well as that included with this property is a “certain one acre lot” that is “described and used as a burying ground.”7

How the switch and the underlying tensions between Rountree’s generosity in donating land, on the one hand, and his clear sympathies (as a slave-owner then former slave-owner) with the south as the United States moves towards the Civil War, on the other, is a topic much deserving of further exploration. Similarly, how this affects Platteville Academy, which continues to be run by those opposed to slavery connected to the Presbyterian church even as that church which it shares a building with becomes the Congregationalist church, also deserves further study. By 1853, the Academy moved to a new location, the one known today as Rountree Hall Apartments.

Platteville Academy as it appeared until 1853: A large wood framed building on Lewis Street about a block away from “Hill Cemetery.”

Platteville Academy as it appeared until 1866, at its new location. Today this is Rountree Apartments, and a historical marker in front tells its history.

The Academy’s first principle. Yes, if you are part of the UW-Platteville community, this is who Pickard Hall is named for.

The tensions over slavery in Platteville of course affected the academy, and even caused one prospective student, a “colored girl” named Ellen Woodell, to not matriculate. This incident is also much deserving of future study. At least one recent book, Slaving Zones (mentioned in note 2 below), says Woodell instead attended Rockford Seminary in Illinois, yet no record of her attendance exists at that seminary, based on the research of Laurie Graney.

At the time I entered Platteville Academy there were a number of boys and young men from Southern slave- holding families enrolled as students. They were among the popular and influential students. In course of time a refined colored girl came to town with a prominent white family and was entered as a student of the Academy. There were threats on the part of the Southern students of leaving school if that colored girl were allowed to remain. The matter was taken up by the trustees of the Academy, who decided the girl must he dismissed. Mr. Pickard, being  ill at the time, gave notice to the trustees that when the colored girl was sent away they would receive his resignation as principal of the Academy

Maria Greene Douglas, “Early Days in Platteville,” Wisconsin Magazine of History Vol. 6 p. 59.

Against this backdrop, and still reeling from a smallpox epidemic, the cholera epidemic hit Platteville. The city only had two cemeteries. It’s a safe bet that those who died of cholera were all buried the same place, regardless of their view on slavery or their religious denomination. People were frightened of this highly contagious disease. Larry Butson still tells the story of a man who lived outside of town near his farm, also the farm of his ancestors: when the man died of cholera, he was left in his cabin and the cabin was burned to the ground. So frightened were people of contracting the deadly disease that they were not willing to remove the body of someone who had died of it.

The last cholera burial we have been able to find is that of Enoch Sanford, buried in the Presbyterian (Congregational) burying ground in 1855. That same year, on August 17, a warranty deed was recorded between John and Lydia Rountree and John Lewis. This warranty deed was for 21 acres that surround the area of Indian Park. A mortgage is also recorded on this date; you can find a transcription of the entire document on our admittedly dry “History of Indian Park” page right under the table that lists different names for the park and who called it what, and when. Notice that when Lewis buys this land from Rountree the one acre containing the cemetery is excluded.

John H. Rountree

It would appear that these actions concern both the denominational change of the Presbyterian church to a Congregationalist church and the 1853 change of location of Platteville Academy. It also seems that from then until Rev. Lewis’s untimely death, legal issues between the man known as “Saint John” and city founder Rountree keep shifting. Why they exist we can only speculate upon, but there’s no doubt that the legal issues between these two men, both men deeply intertwined with the city’s religious, educational and civic history, live on and have had the intentional or unintentional effect of hiding “Indian Park’s” past as a cholera burial ground and perhaps (as we’ll discuss in our final article) as a native burial ground and/or mound complex.

Rev. John Lewis

In 1855, the county surveyor certified that he had laid out lots in the Town of Platteville for John Lewis, E. W. Covell and John Rountree. The next year, for unclear reasons, Rountree released Lewis from the mortgage on the 21 acres surrounding Hill Cemetery (Indian Park.) Then in 1858, a warranty deed between Rountree and Lewis appeared. This deed is especially strange since it is not recorded until 1873, 13 years after Rev. Lewis died.

Rev. Lewis’ marker in Greenwood Cemetery

Rev. John Lewis died of tuberculosis on September 2, 1860, at the age of 43. Presbyterian records note that he was laid to rest on an afternoon of “autumnal splendor,” and that the entire Academy followed his casket to the cemetery. While records state that he is buried at “Hillside cemetery,” that may be an error, since that cemetery is quite a way for pallbearers to carry a casket. More likely, the procession just walked down what is now Lewis Street for a couple of blocks to Hill Cemetery. (Lewis’s headstone is in Greenwood Cemetery, which didn’t exist at the time. We speculate that the headstone was moved from Hill Cemetery to Greenwood Cemetery in 1918 when some bodies, or at the least some headstones, were removed to another location.)

After Lewis died, his wife became heir to his estate. While she moved to Chicago, she continued life-long friendships with people in Platteville, according to Josiah Pickard as quoted in her lengthy June 7, 1911 front page Platteville Journal obituary.

From 1860 and through 1904, numerous irregular events appear on the tax rolls concerning Indian Park. For instance, in 1868, 1869 Eliphalet and Rebecca Covell and Electa Lewis sign a quit claim deed for Lots 9, 10, 19 & 20 of Covell’s Addition (Indian Park) to John Rountree for $50… even though none of them have ever owned the property. (Lewis owned the 21 acres around the cemetery but not the cemetery itself, which had been a gift from Rountree to the city.)

After John Rountree died, his heirs (in 1898) attempted to sue the Presbyterian Synod to eject them from the ground and to terminate the land’s use as a cemetery… but note that Chapter 25 of the 1849 Wisconsin State Legislature says the Congregational Church is now the successor in law of the Presbyterian Church and has been sold the cemetery as well as other church property. The Congregational Church had never (and still has never) sold the land.

Court documents show that the court found that the Rountree heirs were entitled to possession of 41’ 6” on the south side of lots 10 and 19, but “the balance of lots 10, 19, 9 and 20 [of Covell’s Addition, or “Indian Park”] are for cemetery purposes.” Why this tiny strip of land was shaved off of the lot remains another mystery.

Eventually E.B. Rice, in 1901, put a lien on the property, for for compensation of materials, labor and attorney fees, (caring, upkeep and maintenance), of the “Presbyterian burying ground.” Rice, who lived right next to the cemetery in Lot 8 of Covell’s Addition, got the land and sold it to a man named Barrett; Barrett paid no taxes in 1901 or 1902 because the land was a “graveyard” . . . although taxes were earlier, and irregularly, paid on the land when they should not have been. 8

Then suddenly, and for no reason we can determine, the 1904 tax roll record indicates that “Indian Park” is “public property.”

For just over fifteen years, nothing happened. Then on May 29, 1917, the state legislature passed an act to “vacate” the cemetery. One can’t help but wonder why the state has even taken notice of this small piece of land. But for some reason, they have. The city is given six months from the passage of the act to “remove all remains” to suitable lots in Greenwood Cemetery. “Thereafter,” the act declares, “the use of said lands for interment shall be prohibited and the title thereto shall be vested in the said City of Platteville.”

One can’t say the City jumped right into action. It took them over ten months to do anything at all… no doubt because at the same time, the draft of young men called up for World War I was increasing and attention was focused there. Platteville City Council meeting minutes show that the council did not vote to remove the remains from the cemetery until April 3, 1918.

A 1918 map of part of Platteville. “Indian Park” was then briefly called “Cemetery Park,” and appears in Covell’s Addition just north of Lewis Street

Once this task was completed (and it clearly never was), the city council authorized and empowered the “Rountree Park Committee” to level the surface to the ground. (Apparently the name “Cemetery Park” was not a big hit, so it briefly became “Rountree Park.”)

Laurie Graney continued to read through the Platteville City Council meeting minutes for over two years from this date, and did not observe where the Rountree Park Committee reported back to the council that their task had been completed. Because of this, its not clear whether the park was leveled or not. It is clear, however, that during the preceding 90 years, someone and likely many people at different times had changed the topography of both the park and much of old Platteville. Not only is the area once called “Hill Graveyard” no longer hilly, but it no longer has springs. Elsewhere we’ve referred to a wonderful description penned by J. H. Evans in 1917, “Platteville Ninety Years Ago, as the Site Appeared to our Pioneers / Also Some Account of the Abundance of Water that Greeted Early Settlers.” Here’s how Evans described the part of land around “Indian Park”:

West of the city along the marshy ravine which headed near the present Fourth street there were many springs. First in order was the Hardnocks, then came the Doesher spring which afforded water for the cows in pastures as late as ten years ago. On the Grindell property, a spring for a time furnished water for the manufacture of brick. Further west on the H.S. Rountree lot there was a spring with a large flow furnishing abundant water for stock. Near this spring the village boys of 60 years ago (screened by abundant timber) had built a dam to impound water for a ‘swimming hole.’ For a few seasons this afforded the kids a fine bathing pool. Just on the south of Adams street, on a lot now owned by the E. H. Doescher estate, there was a spring notable in early times as a camping place of emigrants and gypsies. Further down the ravine there were springs on the Shepherd lot, the Oudyn lot, the Charles Nye lot, the Homer Perry lot, and the Carsten lot. Doubtless there were others. Some may yet continue to flow, but most of them have been drained by the shafts sunk for mining.

J.H. Evans, in the January 31, 1917 Platteville Journal

What a beautiful place that part of town must have been! The profusion of springs also starts to suggest an answer to our final mystery: whether there is an “Indian” buried in the middle of “Indian Park,” and/or whether the small rise left in the center is a Native American conical mound. That will be the subject of our final article.

If you have read this far and wonder why we have spent so much time on a small parcel of land, we’ll tell you. We want the history of this place to be recorded and remembered.

The City of Platteville’s interest in this park is seems to be periodic.  Every few decades the city shows interest in re-purposing Indian Park.  Along with the instances we’ve discussed above is another in the late 1950s, when the City Council explored the idea of selling off Indian Park as four buildable lots. (Attorney Block advised against this, presumably because bodies are literally still buried there, and that letter is still on file with the legal firm.) 

Recently there has been talk of re-purposing it again.  Why not re-purpose it to remind people here of all the historic currents running through one small piece of land?

Perhaps it is time to get the history of Indian Park carved in stone and shown its proper respect.  Think of what a wonderful teaching tool it could be!

Notes

1One that is easily accessible is Peter T. Harstad’s “Disease and Sickness on the Wisconsin Frontier: Cholera” (1960), available on JSTOR at https://www.jstor.org/stable/4633516

Book: Slaving Zones
Slave-owning in northern states is no longer the secret it once was. Slaving Zones is one of several recent works to address this issue.

2Along with references to Platteville in recent books such as Slaving Zones (pp. 288, 298, 306), UW-Platteville archivist James Hibbard has recently given the first of three presentations at the Rollo Jamison Museum in Platteville about slavery in the city. In 2019, students at UW-Platteville worked with historian Eugene Tesdahl to repair the headstone of Rachel, one of John Rountree’s slaves. Slavery was illegal in Wisconsin and as archivist Hibbard reported, local pressure eventual resulted in Rountree and some but not all of the Platteville slave-owners freeing their slaves, even though strong pro-slavery sentiment remained.

3For the many examples we gave in our presentation of those listed as having died of cholera, please see our History of Indian Park page. These names all were all entries in the Federal Census Mortality Schedules Index, 1850-1880 [database on-line] as transcribed by the Church of Latter-Day Saints church and made available on Ancestry.com. Provo, UT, USA: Ancestry.com Operations Inc, 1999.

4“Early Days in Platteville,” by D.J. Gardner, Truman Douglas, and Maria Greene Douglas originally appeared in the WIsconsin Magazine of History Vol. VI No. 1, September 1922. It is reprinted in its entirety here: https://archive.org/details/earlydaysinplatt00gard/page/12/mode/2up

5The one exception we’ll talk about in our next article, but in case you can’t wait: a piece in the December 12, 1962 Wisconsin Capital-Times quoted long-time resident Harley Ritter who thought it said “Stephens.” We have never known Mr. Ritter, do not know where he came by this information, and cannot see that name on the sign. However, we will consider the reporting in this article–both what it says about this stone and about repeated Native American gatherings in the park–in our final article.

6February 6, 1849 the Wisconsin State Legislature passes an act, Chapter 25, that authorizes the Presbyterian Church in Platteville, Grant County, to change its name and form of government. 

Section 1.  That it shall and may be lawful for the members of the Presbyterian Church in the town of Platteville, in Grant County, to change their name and form of government to that of a Congregational Church.

Section 2.  That the trustees of the aforesaid Presbyterian Church be and they are hereby empowered to sell, lease, or otherwise dispose of the property belonging to said church, and to make, execute, and deliver to the trustees of the Congregational Church, when duly chosen, deeds therefore, under their hands and seals:  Provided, that a majority of the members of the said Presbyterian Church concur in such transfer by their votes cast at a meeting called for the purpose, of which public notice shall be given from the pulpit, at least two Sabbaths next preceding the time of holding such a meeting.

Section 3.  That the said Congregational Church, when formed as hereinbefore provided, shall be the successor in law to the said Presbyterian Church, and when the same shall have been duly organized as a Congregational Church, under an act of the legislature of the Territory of Wisconsin, approved February 8th, 1847, entitled “an act to provide for the incorporation of the Protestant Episcopal Church and other religious societies in the Territory of Wisconsin,” then the property both real and personal, owned by said Presbyterian Church, shall by virtue of proper deeds of conveyance, made as hereinbefore provided, vest in the Congregational Church, so organized as aforesaid:  Provided, that nothing herein contained shall be so construed as to give the trustees of the Presbyterian Church the power to sell or convey the Platteville Academy.

7, 8For a list of all the deed changes which follow, see Laurie Graney’s “What I Know About Indian Park as of April 2020.” After her timeline, she has a list of tax rolls and a transcription of one of the most important deeds.

By the way, if you’d rather see this as a video, the authors did present on this at the Platteville Senior Center. That presentation is on Youtube in three parts, beginning here. The follow-up presentation, called “The Mysteries of Indian Park, Revealed,” was postponed due to the COVID-19 pandemic and did not occur until September 10, 2020. That second presentation begins here.

The Mick Hill

Cover of Ridge Stories
Gary Jones is the author of Ridge Stories, Herding Hens, Powdering Hens, and other Recollections from a Boyhood in the Driftless. This story, like those in his book, recalls events of his childhood in the Driftless Region.

No rolling plains, fruited or otherwise, characterize the driftless region of Wisconsin.  We are a land of hills and valleys.  Fruit trees typically are raised on hilltops, the height protecting orchards from blossom-killing spring frosts that tend to settle into the valleys.  And from those ridges, the blue skies appear especially spacious, the series of hills and valleys in all directions from a summer highpoint lookout, like ocean waves of green.

            And because hills and valleys were such a part of the lives of past residents in northern Richland County, they are all named.  If from my birthplace on Pleasant Ridge you walk west on County D, you will descend the Mick Hill.  Should you walk east, and in a quarter mile turn right on County DD, you will travel down the Dicks Hill.  But if you continue on County D along the ridge a couple of miles, you will come to the Pauls Hill.

            Hills tend to take their names from their adjacent property owners, and the topographical identifications remained long after the demise of the namesakes, at least among those who remember.  Now, if you were giving directions and mentioned the Mick Hill, the Dicks Hill, or the Pauls Hill, you would in all likelihood receive a blank stare from the lost traveler.

            Valleys are more likely to take their names from landscape features, Snow Valley, Wheat Hollow, and Bear Valley, and especially streams of water, such as the Upper and Lower Buck Creek Valley, Little Willow Valley, and Fancy Creek.   Direction givers, however, now use the alphabetical or numerical identifications of roads, and the confident automated female voice of GPS has replaced neighbors who point in a direction yonder and ramble on listing landmarks to watch for.

            If you take County D down Upper Buck Creek (also known as the north branch) you’ll pass the homestead of Isaac Johnson where my future Granny, Hattie was born, and farther down the valley, the home of her grandfather, Civil War veteran John Clark Davis.  But if you take the south branch down County DD, you’ll pass the homestead of Fred Jones, father of Charlie, my future Gramp.   Hattie and Charlie married and settled on an 80-acre ridge farm located near the convergence of the tops of the two valleys, a topographical compromise symbolizing the nature of a union that results in a long-lasting marriage.

            The two branches of Buck Creek merged near the lower junction of D and DD, becoming a tributary of the Pine River that eventually flowed into the Wisconsin River which emptied into the Mississippi River and finally the Gulf of Mexico, water world without end.

            Back on the ridge-top farm where I was born, the only water we saw was pumped out of the ground.  Buck Creek was a brook we saw on our way to town, driving down the Mick Hill, a landmark that figured largely into our lives.  At the end of summer my mother would send me down that hill where I’d climb the fence into the young cattle pasture through the gate by the driven well pipe that filled a stock tank with water and technically was the beginning of our branch of Buck Creek, springs farther down the valley adding to its size.

            Up the pasture hill adjacent to our fields was an heirloom apple orchard that bore fruit destined for my mother’s first pies of the season.  I’d trudge back up the Mick Hill with a paper grocery bag of apples, gnawing on one during my ascent, visions of fresh pie apple dancing in my head.

            The Mick Hill could be treacherous during winter.  Country roads at that time were flanked by steep-cut banks bristling with brush.  Subsequently even light snowfalls would drift if the wind were blowing.  More than once in the middle of a winter’s night we’d hear a pounding on our front door, and after my father had yanked on his pants to investigate, he’d find some guy who on his way home from a night out in Hub City (a village with a church, a gas station, and a half-dozen taverns) had slid off the road and could my father possibly pull him up the hill?

            My good-natured dad would agree, and while the unfortunate motorist melted snow on the rug by the front door, Paw would finish dressing, put on a coat, hat, gloves, and boots, and walk out to the machine shed, fetch a log chain, and with the visitor leaning on a fender, drive his tractor down the hill to the ditched car.

            Sometimes the assisted motorist would open his wallet, but more often the wallet had been emptied at Hub City and my father would be rewarded for his services only with heart-felt words of thanks.

            Farther above our home north forty lay the farm of Don Armstrong, an elderly small time dairy farmer nearing retirement from milking cows, but still going strong drinking beer.  He and his wife Tillie, (who always dressed in black and wore a wide-brimmed matching hat, reminding me as an adult of the British gardening expert Gertrude Jekyl) would spend winter afternoons at a tavern in Hub City.

            On their way home late one afternoon Armstrong was spinning out and losing traction on the Mick Hill, and in his inebriated concentration didn’t notice when his elderly wife opened the door and stepped outside to push, just as his car regained a purchase on the hill and managed to achieve the summit.

            He was sitting blurry-eyed at the kitchen table waiting for his supper when the door opened and Tillie walked in.  Oh, he said, finally realizing what had transpired.  I wondered who that old woman was I saw walking up the Mick Hill behind me!

            My grandparents Jones had taken over the 80-acre homestead of Granny’s father Isaac Johnson, and later Gramp bought an adjoining 100 acres.  When my father was ready to retire from farming, I purchased 90 acres of that larger parcel, both as an emotional and financial investment.

            After my wife and I had made our final land-contract payment, we found that our tax bill for the property indicated that we held 92 acres of land.  This has to be a mistake, my wife said, studying the bill, and phoned the township clerk to clear up the problem. 

            There can be no orphan land, he said, and then explained that before the 1930s, the road went up the north side of the ravine that led up the Mick Hill.  When County D was paved, the road was rerouted up the south side, making the two-acre slice of land inaccessible to the Micks.

            Technically, I have a right to rename that ascent The Jones Hill, but I will let tradition prevail.  Death and taxes have traditionally been the reality of a man’s existence.  The receipt of free land from the tax man was an unexpected bonus and gives me hope for other good things to drift into my life!