The Murder of Blackhawk
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It was the best of times!
It was the worst of times!
Thank you Charles, that describes life near the border of Kansas-Missouri in the mid-1800s to a tee.
I guess in this column we will be getting a little help from some famous friends, which is certainly appreciated!
In those days, violence, suspicion and revenge were constants on the border.
As for the best of times, my thinking is you must have been a purveyor of spirits. Seems everyone was imbibing to a societal fault.
In 1860, St. Joseph had 129 saloons while downstream Leavenworth, with a smaller population, had more. There were no guard rails, drunks littered the streets day or night with an opinion and a six-gun.
Topeka was trying to establish itself as the free-state Capital of Kansas while LeCompton fought to become the pro-slavers Capital.
Enclaves of like-minded families dotted new settlements in the Kansas Territory.
In order to survive the times you either stayed invisible, risked mingling, or were amongst a circle of bad dudes common people were afraid of.
Ike Edwards, his two brothers and their ugly dog Buck practically ruled Topeka with intimidation.
Buck, with his bulging eyes and overbite, smelled like the river he swam in three hot days ago.
How ugly was he? OK Rodney, allow me, I’m asking, “He was so ugly other dogs would come up and sniff his face!”
It was brother Ike who got all the respect, threatening locals and commanding the scene.
“Cops were scarce and jails were jokes,” so described Lisa Ford, Superintendent of the Topeka Cemetery, founded in 1859.
These brothers were the Kansas Territory’s first crime family, with that ugly attack dog as their mascot.
Herrrre’s Johnny.
“In the old West do you know what three things made an outlaw happy? A rare steak, a bottle of whiskey and an ugly dog to eat the steak.”
“Nice one Johnny, I barked, thank you, got any more?”
“Nope that’s it, we’ll be right back with odd bird calls after this word from your local sponsor.” Click!
The three Edwards were horse thieves, rustlers, pro-slavers and killers. The few good people in Topeka were tired of being afraid, something had to give.
Ike was on a bender at the Wigwam in old North Topeka one night, dominating a card game and the saloon with his not-so-idle boisterous threats.
The Wigwam was a seedy open tavern known to serve all kinds.
Blackhawk, being a Pottawatomie Native whose ancestors were driven to Kansas a generation earlier, was also a hard drinker.
The Pottawatomie's were force marched from Michigan to Kansas.
“We didn’t call it the Trail of Tears, to us it was known as the Trail of Death,” so describes the tribe's exodus by Council Executive and friend Jon Boursaw.
Prior to the French and Indian War, the Pottawatomie and French trappers in the upper U.S. became “friendly,” and allied on the losing side of that war, thus Jon is of Native descent with a French last name.
Blackhawk was no saint either, but he wasn’t bothering anyone. Outside the Wigwam with Buck was Blackhawk’s fine pony that Ike had his drunken eye on.
Edwards had threatened Blackhawk, he wanted his horse, not even making him an offer. Drunk Blackhawk stumbled out, followed by Ike. They both climbed on Blackhawk’s steed, trotting off towards the ferry.
Moments later Ike was alone galloping back into town with his 12” Bowie knife in hand. He had sunk his blade into Blackhawk’s side, then after falling off, gutted him.
Citizens knew what had happened, quickly found the dying Blackhawk and surrounded Ike, whose knife still dripped with blood. Angry men knocked Ike off the horse. The ugly dog growled.
This was the first recorded murder in Topeka history.
Ike was taken to the porous city jail and schackled, he escaped.
Recaptured ... the frontier justice pot had boiled over and was about to unload its wrath on the Edwards' clan.
Three friends of Blackhawk pretending to be the sheriff got the sleeping deputy to open the outside jail door. Quickly putting a coffee bag over the jailer's head, the guard knew what was about to happen.
These friends/vigilanties had had enough of Ike Edwards. Strung him up right there, inside the jail to low rafters barely tall enough to stretch him out.
The next day brother Bob Edwards came to visit Ike only to find him hung, “is this some kind of a joke!” he reportedly howled.
Ike Edwards was the first recorded lynching in Topeka history.
That same day a vengeful mob grew. They moved on to the next stop, the Edwards home in pro-slavery Tecumseh a short ride away to finally end this reign of terror from the brothers. Bill Edwards bolted the house and ran into the river, his bloated body bobbed up the next day but the youngest, Bob, escaped never to be heard from again.
“The story of Blackhawk had to be remembered, thus his headstone in the Topeka Cemetery. We have lost enough of our history, weren’t letting this one get away!” Boursaw proudly declared.
As the original Mr. Rogers, with lasso in hand, used to say “Back in the day when they caught a horse thief they would hang 'em, now if they catch a car thief they call it a miracle!”
Throughout history, law abiding, God fearing men can just take so much before they justify an action which would normally be considered abhorrent. That’s what Hollywood feasted on for decades, "Shane," "The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance" and Clint Eastwood’s finest westerns.
Leave it to Walter, St. Joseph’s favorite son, who may have closed out such a remarkable day by reporting, “And that’s the way it was, on the frontier, searching for justice!”
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Bob Ford’s History will appear in each edition of the Weekender, Midweek and Corner Post. To find more of Bob’s work go to his website
Bobfordshistory.com and watch his videos on YouTube, TikTok or Clapper.
