BY MRS. A. E. PERRY
The subject of this sketch is my father, Forbis LeFlore. He was the youngest son of Louis LeFlore, a Frenchman, who emigrated to Mobile with his parents when Mobile was still French territory. When the yellow fever epidemic struck Mobile the mother and father succumbed to its ravages; but three children of this union were left among the living; two boys, Louis and Michael, and one girl, Susanne. Louis left Mobile soon afterward and became a hunter, a fur trader, and made many trips to Canada and back. He was a laughter loving man, full of great jokes and a constant source of enjoyment to his friends, the Choctaws; yet withal very gentle. He was a typical Frenchman, not very tall but lithe and sinewy, with black hair and eyes. He was well known and greatly loved by the Indians from the Gulf of Mexico to the Great Lakes; therefore it was not strange that he married a Choctaw maiden and was adopted into the tribe. His wife, Rebecca Cravat was the grand-daughter of an hereditary chief of the Choctaws and the daughter of an Englishman. Many sons and daughters were born to Louis and Rebecca; among them Greenwood, Benjamin, Jack, Henry, Basil, Forbis, Clarissa, Felice, and Mary Ann. All the sons became men of prominence in the tribe, while the daughters were stately southern women whose children’s children are of the finest families in Mississippi. The youngest son was Forbis LeFlore, my father. His brothers and sisters will be mentioned in this only as their lives crossed that of my father’s.
During the War of 1812 Louis LeFlore served as Major of a Battalion of Voluntary Choctaw Indians.
The other brother, Michael LeFlore, also married a Choctaw, but his wife was of another clan; and thus the lives of the brothers were in a manner separated.
My father’s mother died when he was very young and so he was given to his eldest sister who had married Col. George Harkins of Mississippi. Col. Harkins was a soldier of fortune as was Louis LeFlore but of Irish extraction.
When little Forbis had attained the great age of four and
one-half years his father, Louis LeFlore, announced his firm intention to have at least one Choctaw brave in the family. The old gentleman had educated all the other children in the finest schools in the east, but he had made up his mind to give Forbis a Choctaw education. Thus in accordance with the age old custom of the tribe at the mature age of five years little Forbis was given over to the care of an old Indian whom the boys called “Uncle.” This old “Uncle” had ten or fifteen boys of about the same age, and it was his duty to teach them all the arts of their illustrious ancestors. Years of real hardships passed broken only by very short visits to his beloved sister and his much-to-be-respected father. The little fellow grew strong and sturdy; mastered the Choctaw language and managed to obtain a speaking acquaintance with the English tongue.
In after years my father had many a tale to tell of those years of “training” and he firmly believed that he owed his all-round ability to those early years of hardship and physical development.
One day word was brought to the old “Uncle” that little Forbis was to be sent home that he might be present at the wedding of his eldest brother, Greenwood, to one of the most beautiful young ladies of Mississippi. Little Forbis was then in his tenth year.
The old plantation home was filled with guests as the most elite of Mississippi were assembled there to witness the fashionable wedding. I wish that I might give you the story as my father so often told it to his wide-eyed children. The boy “warrior” was brought in and his Indian “costume” of one hunting shirt was taken from him and he was handed the garments of a well bred lad of about 1820, and, was told to put them on. When I close my eyes I can still hear the laughter of my father as he would tell us how he donned the articles “back-side before.” At last one of the elder brothers helped him to get ready. My father always followed the telling of this tale with a most vivid and awe inspiring description of the wedding; the most beautiful and regal bride, and her gracious sweetness to him. Little Forbis could hardly take his eyes off his new sister-to-be; and Greenwood was a little fretted at the persistent presence of the alert, half-savage boy with his fluent Choctaw and very inadequate English. For-
bis’s ignorance of all conventions was appalling; but his French blood of “what is it” being too much for his Indian ancestry he was not a calm stolid “warrior” but a “volatile ravage.” How the old gentleman enjoyed his “Choctaw son,” and how the elegant Greenwood chaffed with anger at the seeming disgrace.
When the ceremonies became too tiresome the little fellow slipped out to play, removed his garments of civilization and again donned his beloved hunting shirt. As my father so often said “I was blissfully cracking hickory nuts outdoors behind the great chimney when I thought of my new sister and what I might do for her. Quickly I filled the tail of my little shirt with the cracked nuts and ran for the drawing room easily eluding the many hands put out to stop me. I reached my angel sister and poured into her white satin lap my hickory nuts; Oh, she was a gracious lady for with arm about me she kept me from my irate brother and there I stood listening to the wild bursts of laughter, not knowing what I had done to bring forth such merriment. Above all I could hear my respected father’s voice in gales of laughter. I suppose Greenwood convinced my father that it was wrong to bring up a LeFlore in such a barbarous fashion for the very next day I was sent east to boarding school, and thus ended my days of savagery. So you see my children, I owe my English education to my brother, Greenwood.” My father always said this with a little twinkle in his eyes and we knew there was a joke somewhere. When Forbis attained young manhood he was once more to come to the attention of his brother, Greenwood.
When Forbis returned from school a grown young man he found that the Choctaws had traveled so far on the road to civilization as to adopt a constitution and elect four secondary chiefs; the primary chief still being hereditary; the secondary chiefs being elected in their respective clans or districts. In the one in which my father belonged there were two candidates for the chieftainship; Greenwood LeFlore and Col. George Harkins. Naturally my father espoused the cause of Col. Harkins. Greenwood was already pledged to the support of the movement for the removal of the Indians from Mississippi, while Col. Harkins was opposed to any such plan.
Now my grand-father was somewhat of a stern old gen-
tleman and when he gave orders he was accustomed to being obeyed; therefore he sent for his son, Forbis, and ordered him to work and vote for Greenwood. As it is said, Forbis was a “chip off the old block” and he very calmly informed his father that he preferred his brother-in-law, Col. Harkins. Such behavior the irascible old Frenchman would not tolerate, so after pouring forth a tirade against such an unreasonable stand, he ended by threatening to disinherit Forbis if he did not obey his dictates.
My father had one outstanding characteristic which he carried all through life; that is he decided for himself what the right course was and pursued it at whatsoever sacrifice it entailed. Therefore he went quietly on his way and worked for Col. Harkins; not even the sight of the newly drawn up will deterred him. But Greenwood was elected; and Forbis was disinherited. And here my father would shrug his shoulders and say “And to my brother, Greenwood, I also owe my ability to stand on my own two feet. At the age of seventeen I ceased to be a rich man’s son. All I now possess I made by my own endeavors.”
When the Choctaws made their historic farewell to their homes in Mississippi my father and his brother, Basil, threw in their fortunes with the exiles. At this time Forbis was a young man of about twenty, of medium weight, with hazel eyes, olive skin, and black hair heavily powdered with white. He was well educated; writing and speaking both Choctaw and English fluently, and having a limited amount of French at his command. Like his father he was a man of wit, and very fond of a joke; indeed he never lost his spirit of boyish fun-making. Now his brother, Basil, was his direct opposite; built like an Englishman with ruddy skin, blue eyes and fair hair, showing his English grand-father, Major Cravat. The two brothers, Basil and Forbis, were near an age and very congenial. The years did not dim their affection and death was kind to them for they answered the Grim Reaper within a short time of each other. When they left Mississippi they were both unmarried.
My father was appointed Captain of a band of over one hundred Choctaws. Oh, that I might give you some idea of that heartbreaking, soul trying “Trail of Tears.” They had to leave everything behind; home, cattle, farm implements;
the government promising to pay them a just price for all that they left; but, Oh, the farce of that promise! They came by flat boat up Red River, and landed near old Doaksville in the fall of 1830. Winter was setting in; they were many miles from civilization; not a roof to cover them except as they erected rude shelters to protect themselves from the cold; nothing to eat except the little they had brought with them. Mere words are entirely inadequate to fully describe the privations of that terrible winter; suffice it to say that the poor exiles died like flies from hunger and exposure. It is needless to state that my father suffered in full for his adherence to his brother-in-law and foster-father; but he never once regretted his decision. He was far from being a rich young man as is shown by the following list of his worldly possessions which he left in Mississippi and turned in to the United States agent in 1833: three cows and calves, valued at $12 each, and one three-year old steer at $15.
Several years after the great trek westward my father’s nieces and nephews commenced to come to Indian Territory, and soon they became a part of the Nation. But limited space does not permit me to mention them further.
In February, 1832 Forbis LeFlore married Miss Sinai Hays, daughter of Captain Hays, one of the older leaders of a band of Choctaws who traveled the “Trail of Tears.”
The very first thing that engrossed the attention of the leaders among the Choctaws was the establishment of churches and schools. True to the training of his beloved, though estranged, father, Forbis believed that the future advancement of the Choctaws depended upon their education. So in 1832 a school was established in the little settlement and the children were regular attendants. The missionaries were already there having come with the Choctaws, gladly sharing the hardships; and by their teaching and example endeavoring to lead the Choctaws to a higher plane of thinking and living. My father was at first attracted toward the ministry and had a great desire to be a preacher, but he was never regularly ordained. I have often heard him say that he was not intended for such a life of self-denial as that lived by those early missionaries.
The Choctaws early recognized the necessity of prohibi-
tion and in 1834 had a law in force prohibiting the sale or use of liquor.
My father’s first venture in the business world was a store at Doaksville; but as he used to laugh and say, pointing to an old blue platter that always adorned our table when a turkey was before us, “Well, my children, that is all your father saved from his mercantile venture! I could not refuse credit; and money was too scarce in the 30’s for a storekeeper to make a success who could never say “No!” This same blue platter is in my possession now.
After his failure with the store he turned his attention to law, and again I recall his words; “You know, children, lawyers are always needed, but alas! I was not a success as one for I could never bring myself to take a case in which I believed my client in the wrong.” Nevertheless, this was somewhat of an exaggeration as he practised law until the time of his death. But, really, the work my father liked best of all was educational in character; and political, in so far as it was needed in furthering education.
Sinai Hays LeFlore soon succumbed to the hardships of pioneer existence; and in May, 1838 Forbis LeFlore was married to Miss Rebecca Fisher, sister of Osborne Fisher, a noted Chickasaw pioneer and legislator.
My father was elected superintendent of Choctaw schools in the thirties and held the position for many years. The Choctaws kept up their own schools because they demanded teachers of character and experience. I have a very interesting letter which my father received in 1850. It seems that several inexperienced young teachers were sent out, and a prominent Indian thus protested: “They must think Indian can put up with any sort of one. No. We want men like Kingsbury, Wright, and Byington.”
In the early fifties my father moved his family from Doaksville to a plantation about eight miles from Old Boggy Depot. I have often heard him tell how he was riding around the country looking for a suitable location for a new home when he espied a buffalo head hanging in a tree on the top of a hill. He rode toward it most warily knowing that wild Indians from the west must have camped there recently. He found a spring of soft water at the foot of the hill and a fine running stream, so he promptly staked out his claim and soon
had his family and slaves removed to their new home. His wife was delighted with the change as her relatives were Chickasaws and nearly all resided in the Boggy Depot district. From this place called Buffalo Head he pursued his business as superintendent of schools; practised law; also served as district judge and supreme court judge.
In 1852 one of the young Indian girls wrote to my father from Wheelock School, Choctaw Nation as follows: “We have a society here. We meet every Thursday. It is going on very well. We have sent ten dollars to the Children’s Friend to educate the poor heathen that are perishing in darkness without the light of the gospel. Besides that $10 we have sent money to New Orleans. Mrs. Dana wants us to learn to help ourselves as well as others and be a help to our nation. We wrote some compositions and drew some pieces and sent them to a society of ladies in New York and they were so good as to send us a library of books that cost $10.” Is it any wonder that the Choctaws had made such strides in so short a time when the youths of the Nation were taught such high ideals? From the boys came reports equally as encouraging. In 1846 there is a letter extant showing how eagerly boys entered the schools, even to the extent of two entering on the same ticket!
It is difficult for some to realize that before 1854 the Choctaws had “nine seminaries supported in part by sums secured by treaty for educational purposes, interest arising from the Chickasaw fund invested under a compact between the Chickasaws and Choctaws, and in part by contributions from missionary societies.” About five hundred students attended these seminaries at an average cost of $60 per year per pupil. Besides these there were thirty common or neighborhood schools with about two thousand pupils attending who were being taught reading, writing, and arithmetic in Choctaw and English.
My father was often sent to Washington as representative for the Choctaws. He liked Washington very well but preferred his work among the schools. He found great pleasure in visiting the numerous schools. He truly spent the best years of his life in helping educate the youth of the Choctaw Nation. He was a member of the Senate for many, many years.
The Choctaws were real politicians and from my father’s letters he enjoyed a first class political row with the best. They were living under a written constitution in 1850 which my father had assisted in drawing up as his school duties made him conversant with the needs of the country. But evidently, it was being bitterly opposed, and, also upheld, for a letter from Thompson McKinney to my father in 1851, deplores the fact that two men of rival factions had engaged in a duel! The letter wittily objects to such civilized politics! There was so much opposition to the old constitution that another was drawn up at Skullyville in January, 1853, and yet another at Doaksville on May 15, 1858. The last two were submitted to the vote of the people on the first Wednesday in July, 1858.
In 1857 the whole Choctaw Nation was in a turmoil; votes were burned at the polls and feeling ran high. I have an exceedingly interesting letter from Joseph P. Folsom, Blue County, Choctaw Nation to my father dated Aug. 18, 1857 in which he tells what happened in his district. "Jack Folsom came late after noon. We waited for him to proceed to open and count the votes but he just sauntered about there, apparently having nothing to do. At last Judge Martin Chuknubi asked him how soon he would count the votes, then Jack Folsom replied, “Why, I have burned them up! I sat still awhile then I rose and walked to him and asked him whether he had really burned those votes. ‘Yes,’ was his only answer. ‘What reason had you to burn them?’ I asked. ‘Because they did not let me vote’ was his answer. ‘That’s no reason why you should burn them, I replied. ‘Well, I have nothing to do with the illegal votes’ said he and walked off into the store. ‘Even if they were illegal votes, you should not burn them,’ I answered. And then I said, ‘This is a hard case.’ There our conversation ended.” Then followed a most vivid description of the clashes in the other districts. Seems as if politics then were no difference from what they are to-day in Oklahoma! It must be in the very air we breathe!
In the fifties were the times when “giants” thrived among the men of the Nation; it was the hey-day of the big men. The roster is long and one of which we as a nation should be excessively proud. We grew such men then as J. E. Dwight, who made such an eloquent speech for the new constitution
that the entire audience became firm adherents; Peter P. Pitchlynn, Thompson McKinney, Old Col. George W. Harkins, Allen Wright, Edmon McCurtain, Alfred Wade, Peter Folsom, Coleman Cole, George Hudson, Lewis Durant, Benjamin Smallwood, Holmes Colbert, and Allen Carney. Those early pioneers’ bodies were made of steel and their hearts were filled with the love of their fellowmen. They played a man’s size game of politics, but all their energies were devoted to bettering conditions in the Nation.
In 1858 my father was asked to run for governor but refused. His brother, Basil LeFlore, was elected.
In 1860 my father’s second wife, Rebecca Fisher LeFlore died leaving three children; Matilda, wife of Dr. T. J. Manning; Henrietta, then a little girl, who afterwards became the wife of Mr. John Donly of Mississippi; and Charles, who was then at school in Tennessee. Several years after his mother’s death Charles was united in marriage at Boggy Depot to Miss Angeline Guy, one of the noted Chickasaw Guy’s; and the aunt of ex-congressman Chas. D. Carter. Charles LeFlore became a well known and greatly respected character in the Choctaw Nation, being for many years the famous Captain of the Mounted Indian Police. That was during the days when the Indian Territory was the great rendezvous of the big outlaw bands; and from the results obtained during his years as Captain I am sure he did his full share in putting an end to their “reign of terror.”
In 1861 my father again went “a courtin’ ”; this time his bride was a young French girl of barely sixteen, Miss Anne Marie Maurer; the daughter of Fransois Joseph Maurer from St. Croix, Alsace. She, my mother, came of a long line of soldiers; her grand-father was one of Napoleon’s bodyguards, who was with the “little Corporal” from his days of glory to the battle of Waterloo, and was one of the last to leave his General’s side and then only at his General’s command.
The Choctaw Council was in session at Boggy Depot and the wedding on March 15, 1861 was attended by the Governor and both Houses of the Legislature. Rev. Allen Wright, afterward Governor of the Choctaw Nation was the officiating clergyman. War clouds in the sky did not dim the gayeties of the wedding, but the young bride was not long to have her husband by her side. His beloved schools called for his at-
tention, for the boys and girls at school in the states must be brought home.
I have a paper before me which reads as follows: “Forbis LeFlore has been duly appointed and confirmed by the Senate, as Commissioner to meet Cherokees, Creeks, Seminoles and Chickasaws in Convention at Perryville on the 24th day of June, 1861. Also to meet the commissioner of the Confederate States of America to negotiate a treaty. Full power is hereby conferred upon the said Forbis LeFlore to perform whatsoever is necessary in the premises. (Signed Geo. Hudson, P. Chief of Choctaw Nation.)
My father evidently entered into the struggle with his usual whole-hearted spirit for I have a fragment of one of his “fire-eating” speeches against the North. The treaty thus negotiated was evidently pleasing to the Choctaws for the following appears in a letter from his brother, Basil LeFlore, dated Nov. 7, 1861: “The General Council will adjourn this evening. The Treaty is ratified without amendments.”
The war was a time of great distress in the Choctaw Nation but, although the boarding schools were closed, many neighborhood schools were kept up, and the spirit of education was not allowed to die.
At the close of the war came the Treaty of 1866, and the Choctaws took up their work sadder and wiser; but my father never regretted adopting the cause of the South.
When the war ended my father was a sick man and almost destitute of worldly goods but his spirit was unconquered. My mother adored my father and found her greatest happiness in assisting him to regain his health and make a living for his young family.
The smoke of battle was hardly cleared away when my father was back on his old job, a little older but even more eager to have all the youths educated. But what a change in the number of boarding schools! Many of the buildings were in ruins, but in 1869 two were repaired and put in use: New Hope Seminary and Spencer Academy; and 48 common schools were opened. From my father’s report I give the following figures “expended on Common Schools from Oct. 1st, 1869 to April, 1870 the amount of $18,886 for the children in different schools in the states $8,300 for the year ending Feb. 1st, 1871.” “In 1873 Spencer Academy was full of boys and
New Hope Seminary had the full number of girls.” In the report of 1878 three-fourths of the Choctaws could read and write the Choctaw language and about one-third the English language. About one-fourth of the teachers were Indians.
The rules governing those early schools and the plan for educating so many boys and girls at schools in the states are worthy of the attention of educators of the present day.
In 1869 my father was again urged to run for chief. Campbell LeFlore, his nephew, wrote to him as follows: “I think it an easy matter for you to be elected, your position in reference to sectionizing the country though not for the best in my opinion, is the most popular ‘at present’.” Again my father refused.
Forbis LeFlore was seldom absent from the Council meetings for he always had some pet measure to introduce for the betterment of his beloved schools. He and his brother, Basil, were always to be found in the foremost ranks eager to fight for the advancement of the Nation.
My father was a firm believer in the Christian religion. He was brought up in the Methodist Church and died in it. His father, Louis LeFlore, never affiliated with any church over here but always smiled and said to his sons: “Go with your mother, my boys; I belong to a church far older than that. A Frenchman may neglect his church but he does not join another.” Forbis LeFlore was an ardent prohibitionist, believing firmly that the future progress of the Choctaws depended upon their abstaining from liquor; and he practised what he preached.
My father dearly loved to deliver a speech but my uncle Basil disliked nothing more than to have such a duty thrust upon him. Forbis had the ready tongue of a Frenchman with all the Gallic wit, while Basil was English in type and temperament and spoke with great deliberation. It was a great joke to the brothers that Basil, when governor, always wrote his speeches but Forbis delivered them.
In 1871 my father moved to Boggy Depot that his young family might have school advantages. The years were slipping by; so much work to be done and the roll call of the “giants” was becoming shorter and shorter. So many had answered the final “Roll Call”that as my father said, “The Council is now a sea of young faces.”
As I remember my beloved father he was rather stout with a magnificent head of snow white hair tossed back from a broad forehead; a mobile mouth whose merry smile no patriarchial beard could hide, and young, young eyes. Uncle Basil was also stout but his face clean of beard, and not much hair to hide the wonderful contours of his head. His blue eyes were filled with a soft gentle light. I loved his slow gestures; his full soft voice. He often came to our house, and when my father sat with him before the wide fireplace in winter, or on the long veranda in summer I stood enraptured or fell asleep at their beloved feet. They were in truth my heroes.
My father liked to romp with his children and grandchildren; none of them feared him but they so loved and respected him that his word was law. A sorrowful glance from his eyes and a sad “Well, well!” was sufficient to control the most unruly. My father’s enforced absences from home were a source of much sorrow to my dear mother. The love between them was so evident that my childish mind was deeply impressed, and the great disparity of their ages seemed to me might be the reason; therefore, I once voiced the thought to my mother that perhaps it would be better for me to marry a man much my senior that we might be as happy as they were!
My mother was a semi-invalid from my birth, but the children never lacked her care for her couch was our place of study and there we gathered morning, noon, and night. During all these years our home was full of children. Besides ourselves there were the children of Mrs. Manning, Mrs. Donly, and Capt Charles LeFlore who never knew that my mother was not their very own grandmother. We always knew when my father was expected home for my beloved young mother always donned her prettiest dress and put her beautiful brown hair high on her head as my father delighted to see her wear it. The house was decked with flowers; the table groaned beneath its load, and how we children shined our faces to greet “Father.”
The August of 1881 is so vivid to me. The sun never shone more bright, nor were the locusts so noisy before. It was the very last days of July. My father had just returned from the states having made the long trip to bring back the
boys and girls from the several schools which they were attending. He complained of not feeling very well and my mother was very solicitous about his condition and rather worried. His years were many but my father’s head was never bowed by their weight. On the first day of August a messenger came to our house in Boggy Depot bearing a letter to my father. I hardly need to close my eyes now to see my father and mother in the great hall at home, and to hear my father reading the letter to her. It was from a widow beseeching him to come to Tishomingo and appear in her behalf as her land was about to be taken from her by a false “friend.” The voice of my mother was sharp with anxiety; “Oh, monsieur! Must you go?” and then my father’s oh, so gentle reply, “Mary, there is no time to prepare papers nor to send another in my place. I must go. It is my duty.” And so the great bay horse was saddled and brought to the front gate where my father mounted and rode away waving a last farewell to his beloved wife and little family. We children numbered five then: two were soon to pass away, Arabella and Odile; three are yet living, Forbis Francois LeFlore of the old home place, Buffalo Head, Lucy, widow of Dr. J. M. Bentley, and Carrie, the writer of this article.
The days passed as long hot days in midsummer do, filled with the laughter of children, the songs of the birds, and the sharp insistent whirr of the locusts in the trees. My mother felt a shadow coming over her happy life; she could not rest, and her anxiety was communicated to us. Often and eagerly did we look for the great bay horse and its beloved rider.
The long August day was drawing to its close and our little family was watching the winding road toward the sinking sun, when a wagon appeared and behind it the great bay horse was tied! The long, long moments until the driver pulled up before us and then we saw our beloved father lying on the floor of the rude vehicle. Tender hands carried him through the great hall to the old fashioned bed whilst alternately he softly chided my mother for her anxiety and then babbled of running streams of clear cold water! The long hot ride to Tishomingo and the fierce legal battle which he had won proved too much for even his iron constitution to stand; nature had been overburdened.
That morning before leaving Tishomingo he had com-
plained of a headache and slight fever. Osborne Fisher, his brother-in-law, had urged him to rest there a few days with him but my father said he had to return home as he would have such a short time with his family before school work would begin again. And so he had mounted his horse and had ridden gallantly away; his last ride home! Mr. Cotton was driving to Boggy Depot and coming up with “Uncle Forbis” as so many loved to call him noticed the weariness with which he rode and urged my father to tie the horse to the wagon and ride with him. Before many miles had been traversed Mr. Cotton gently placed the beloved “Uncle Forbis” on the floor of the wagon and urged the horses as quickly as possible to our home.
The long life of Forbis LeFlore was ended; his death a sacrifice to a principle, “That which I think my duty that I must do!” His young manhood was begun in poverty because he would not swerve from his conviction of right. He spent his years in devotion to an ideal, the education of his people; and then he gave his life that he might serve a poor woman whose only claim on him was that of humanity.
My father was laid to his final rest in the old cemetery at Boggy Depot, where repose so many of the Nation’s noted dead. They came from far and near; the rich and the poor; the young and the old to do him honor.
In that sorrowful year of 1881 the Choctaws were called upon to mourn three of their “grand old men”; and on Friday, Oct. 14, 1881 the General Council adjourned in respect to the memory of Col. Peter P. Pytchlynn, Captain John Mishemahtubbe and Col. Forbis LeFlore.