SHERIDAN HERE, SHERIDAN THERE

SHERIDAN HERE, SHERIDAN THERE

A blog from Glenwood Washington Weather

I recently spent some time in Chicago.  We stayed on the north side of Chicago, near the western shore of Lake Michigan.  I rented a car, a Volkswagen Beetle, and with the help of the lady inside of my phone I was able to navigate around Chicago pretty well.  One navigation aid, that I discovered by studying the map, was Sheridan Road.  It ran north/south along the lake Michigan shore line. 

My husband and I were staying near Howard Park, on Lake Michigan, so one day without the help of the nice lady inside my phone, I decided to venture down Howard Street to the park.

I parked on Sheridan Road and while we sat on a park bench enjoying the water activities of children swimming and adults paddle boarding,  I googled through my phone learning about Sheridan Road.  That is when I discovered the road was named for Phil Sheridan.  

The Phil Sheridan I was familiar with, had galloped around the Pacific Northwest fighting Indians, before galloping off to the Civil War to become a general.
As a kid, I had spent summer days at the Phil Sheridan Days Rodeo in Sheridan, Oregon.  West of Sheridan, in the area of Grande Ronde, is the Fort Sheridan/Yamhill/Sheridan House Historic Site.  

I knew that Phil Sheridan was stationed at Fort Vancouver during the 1856 Cascades Massacre  
near present day Cascade Locks/Stevenson and arrived in haste to protect the remaining white settlers  who were under attack by Klickitat/Yakima Indians.  Lawrence Coe  gives an eye witness account of the ordeal.
Today, Sheridan Point, is an area  of land downstream from the Bridge of the Gods, where Native Americans build their fishing scaffolds to dip salmon.

Sheridan Point below Bridge of the Gods

On the Upper side of the Bridge of the Gods, down a short rocky trail, lies the gravestone markers for Emily and her brother,  Norman Palmer.   Young Norman suffered a tragic death during the Cascades Battle.  Norman and Emily's life story is told by the Iman family of Skamania County.

Tragic deaths, during the Cascade uprising,  were not just on the side of the white settlers.  Lieutenant Sheridan and his command of men, gathered up the Cascade Indians and executed some of them.  One of them being Chief Chenowith.  Some stories say the Cascades were involved in the attack, some stories say they were innocent bystanders, while the guilty Klickitat/Yakimas rode off to safety.

Phil Sheridan rode off to the Yamhill country to fight more Indians and left in charge of the Cascades area, Lieutenant Lear.  Lear "married"  Chief Chenowith's daughter Ellen.  They had a daughter Isabelle, who married Ed Underwood.

Isabelle's life story is told HERE.

Like William Lear, I had always understood that Phil Sheridan also had a Native American wife and child, whom he left behind when he galloped off to the Civil War.
Now,  I am not so sure about that, but,  I will leave that story up to  Wayne Kigerl who has done extensive research on the topic.

Wayne Kigerl and His Blogs about Lt. Philip Sheridan, Indian Wars....and Lovers

In Wayne's blog photo you will see a statue.  That statue takes us back to Chicago, from here in the Pacific Northwest, to there in the Midwest,  where I am sitting on a park bench along Lake Michigan, learning about Phil Sheridan.
Evidently during the Great Chicago Fire of 1871...."As military commander of the Great Plains, Sheridan was headquartered in Chicago at the time of the great fire, and it was at this time he "saved" the city not once, but three times...."

The Chicago Tribune can tell the story better than I.
With a road, a statue and a fort, Chicago honored Civil War Gen. Philip Sheridan. Here's why. 

So, the next day, found us taking a drive south on the road to find the statue, which was OK, because I wanted to see Wrigley Stadium....Home of the Chicago Cubs.  It wasn't the best day to view Wrigely Stadium.  There was a home game, which meant, lots of blocked streets, lots of pedestrians, lots of traffic and the lady inside my phone got really tired of  me not turning on the streets she told me to.
As for the statue, it just is not in a convenient place for viewing.  I doubt if Chicagoans even see it.

Here is my snapped shot while sitting at a red light.

"...Originally named “Rienzi,” the horse was given to Sheridan by a fellow officer in 1862. Two years later, General Sheridan was the commander of the Cavalry Corps of the Army of the Potomoc in Virginia. On October 19, 1864, when away from his troops briefly, he heard the sounds of cannon firing in the distance. He quickly rode to Cedar Creek, where his men were defending against a surprise Confederate attack. This monument shows Sheridan looking over his shoulder, arm outstretched and hat in hand, rallying his troops to regain control of the battleground. His ultimate victory at the battle was so significant to Sheridan that he changed his horse’s name to “Winchester,” in honor of the town nearest the fight. After “Winchester” died in 1878, the horse’s body was preserved and presented by Sheridan to a military museum in New York. It is now part of the collections of the Smithsonian Institution. 
Borglum went on to make one of the most famous monuments in America—the giant sculpted faces of American Presidents on Mount Rushmore, in South Dakota...."

Like our old Fort Vancouver Apple Tree this statue sits between busy streets and a highway.  No longer a peaceful park.

Much to the relief of my husband, and the lady in the phone, I went around the block and headed north up Sheridan Road, leaving behind hectic Chicago, and meandering through the mansions of Evanston, past the beautiful campus of Northwestern University, 

 

Through the curves past the Bahai House of Worship

Through the town of Fort Sheridan. 
After the Haymarket Riots of 1886, wealthy Chicago businessmen felt relief that a military facility was not far away, along the well traveled Sheridan Road.

We turned around at the Wisconsin border and ended our tour of
Sheridan Road. 

History is based upon the words of the story teller, and 
sometimes, I fall into the trap of believing the words.