Remembering the "Walking" Purchase (Part 2)

So, remember in Part 1, when the colonists did that awful thing where they made up an old treaty with the Lenape tribe -- supposedly from decades beforehand -- that said they owed the colonists land "As far as a Man could walk in a day and a half"? Remember how that was terrible and stuff?

Yeah...?

Yeah, well, it gets worse.

How do you do worse than making up a fake treaty?

Well, you break the terms of the treaty you made up.

The "Walkers"

The Lenape in the area called Lechauwekink, which we now call Easton, had been forced to accept the terms of the obvious forgery of a treaty by their Iroquois overlords, who sided with the Penn family on the matter, remember. Their head chief, Nutimus, was upset with it all, naturally, but in the end he signed off on it along with several other chiefs, including Teedyuscung, who becomes important later on.

And so, James Logan, the Penn's acting agent (and friend of Ben Franklin, by the way), chose three of the best runners to complete the journey.

Runners?

Runners. The fastest known runners in the area, apparently.

But it was a "Walk." Running seems to be in direct violation of the terms.

There was no Court of Appeals back then. If there had been, do you think the treaty would have been approved at all?

Depends on the lawyers.

Nice. Anyway, the three runners -- Edward Marshall, James Yeates, and Solomon Jennings -- began their journey, with native guides escorting them, on September 19, 1737. The plan, as far as the Lenape knew, was for the group to walk from Wrightstown (in present-day Bucks County) basically north and then after a day-and-a-half, they'd measure the distance traveled, draw a line from the ending point to the Delaware River and - viola - that would be the land "purchased."

What actually happened? Penn's agents cleared a path through the wilderness beforehand to make it easier to travel faster, and thus farther.

Oh, an they cleared it northwest. Just so much to the west, perhaps, that they imagined the Lenape wouldn't notice.

And then, naturally, despite the protests of the Lenape behind them, the runners ran.

The Angle of the Deal

Jennings didn't last too long, really. 18 miles into the run, he quit.

Pssh! Who can't run more than 18 miles?

Yeates probably wished he had quit, too, actually. He and Marshall got as far as present-day Northampton borough before Yeates became exhausted and unable to continue.

That's no excuse.

Also, Yeates soon died from the exhaustion.

...That is an excuse.

Marshall, clearly some kind of superhuman, ran as far as present-day Jim Thorpe. In a day and a half, not stopping long, he had dashed over 50 miles northwest. There, he finished the so-called "Walk" and -

Wait, who is Jim Thorpe?

It's the name of the present-day borough where Edward Marshall stopped his run. Jim Thorpe, Pennsylvania.

Ha! What? That's a guy's name, not a place name. That's hilarious. What's with Pennsylvania?

Long story, short blog, another time.

The Lenape were displeased with the running, obviously, but they were still more displeased to learn the northern border of the purchase would not be drawn straight east-to-west at the stopping point. It was drawn at an angle heading northeast from the stopping point. (See Fig. 1)

As a result, the Lenape were cheated out of about 1,200 square miles of land. They appealed to both the Iroquois and colonial authorities, but they were ultimately ignored.

I'm beginning to see why there are things named after William Penn, who treated the natives with fairness and bought their land, rather than, say, things named after James Logan, who devised a bunch of dubious claims to swindle land fr-

Logan Square in Philly is named after him, as are several schools.

Oh, come on!

But believe me, there were consequences for the Walking Purchase for the colonials of the time. Unfortunately, many a future resident of Northampton County would be caught in the cross-fire.

But that dark tale will have to wait for another time. Too many depressing blog posts back-to-back and I'll develop a depressing reputation.

Being known as "Kyle Jones, blogger" is kind of already kind of a depressing reputation.

Wow. So I can hate a narrative device.

Kyle M. Jones is a docent at The Sigal Museum in Historic Downtown Easton. He is there most Saturdays, pretending to know everything.