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Are we forgetting Valentine McGillycuddy?

Had he been shot, stabbed or even hung by the neck, Valentine McGillycuddy might be as famous as Custer, Crazy Horse, Calamity Jane and other heroes and ner-do-wells from the Old West. He was one of the first white men to arrive in the Black Hills - and was the first to climb Harney Peak. History is rife with his escapades and accomplishments.



Unfortunately, he hasn't achieved legend status, probably because he was a healer and an achiever, not a fighter or gambler - and because he died peacefully at the ripe old age of 90. So, through the decades of the 20th century, he became all but forgotten.



Daniel Stanton remembers learning about McGillycuddy in a history class. He was so intrigued that he asked a realtor for a tour when he saw that McGillycuddy's old house in Rapid City was for sale in 2001. "It was kind of sad because it was absolutely being treated like a regular house," he remembers thinking. "And it was probably going to be turned into an apartment house."



Though Stanton was just out of the Navy and studying for an engineering degree at South Dakota School of Mines and Technology, he couldn't help himself; he borrowed $90,000 and bought the old sandstone house to save it from becoming remuddled rental property.



The brown sandstone structure is at the corner of South Street and Mount Rushmore Road. McGillycuddy built it in 1888, well before Mount Rushmore or a road by that name ever existed. He lived there a decade before heading to California.



Stanton, who now works as an engineer, was raised in a family of Rapid City amateur historians, so he claims with some perspective that it's among the most significant buildings in South Dakota. "If you want one building that represents the whole history of who we are and how we got here, this would be the one in my opinion," he says.



McGILLYCUDDY WAS BORN in Wisconsin on Valentine's Day, 1849. He had a medical degree by age 20 and was soon practicing and teaching medicine in Detroit. But a thirst for adventure led him to join a surveying team. He served as the surgeon and topographer for an expedition that mapped the U.S.-Canadian border.



His life changed forever when he agreed to join the Jenney Expedition in 1875 as it made its way into the Black Hills to survey the mountains. Walter Jenney, a geologist, was assigned the task of determining how much gold was in the Black Hills. Some historians think Jenney and his surveyors intentionally understated the mineral potential in the mountains. Jenney did add a prediction: "No matter how valuable the mines may be, the future great wealth of the Black Hills will be its grasslands, farms and timber." No one can fault him for not envisioning mountain carvings, ski slopes, motorcycle rallies, hiking trails and glitzy casinos.



However, he and others might have sensed the more immediate impact. Since the Laramie Treaty of 1869 established all lands in Dakota Territory west of the Missouri to be Indian country, the Jenney and Custer explorations were an obvious violation. Consequently, Jenney traveled with a 400-man military escort.



McGillycuddy noted the fact that they were surveying reservation lands as he assisted in the mapping. He quickly fell in love with the wilderness, the Native American culture and the emerging pioneer civilization.



The topographers established Harney Peak as the highest point between the Rockies and the Pyrenees mountains, a rugged border between Spain and France. McGillycuddy, then a 26-year-old outdoorsman, became the first white man to reach Harney Peak's summit. At one difficult point, he fashioned a ladder from a pine tree to climb above a steep, rocky upthrust.



It was a rugged ascent without the marked trails available today. In fact, Lt. Col. George Custer had failed in a similar effort a year before McGillycuddy succeeded.



Later that same year, the young doctor returned to Detroit to marry Fanny Hoyt, a longtime sweetheart. They honeymooned in Washington, D.C., so McGillycuddy could give a report on the expedition. Impressed by his manner and knowledge, military officers offered him a position with General George Crook's cavalry in Fort Laramie. In 1876 he said goodbye to his bride and again went West.



He returned in the midst of a momentous two-year period in American history. Miners overwhelmed the Black Hills. Cavalry soldiers were ordered to return the Lakota and Cheyenne Indians to the reservations to protect the flood of white miners and settlers.



Interesting characters from all around the country were converging on the Black Hills. The young doctor became acquainted with Wild Bill Hickok, Buffalo Bill Cody, Calamity Jane, Mark Twain and many other celebrities.



McGillycuddy was traveling with Gen. Crook and about 1,000 soldiers when they fought with Indians in Montana. The attack, which came to be known as the Battle of Rosebud, ended after six hours and relatively light casualties. However, the incident kept Crook from joining up with Custer's Seventh Cavalry, which marched on alone to its demise at the Little Big Horn eight days later.



After annihilating Custer's cavalry, the Indians fled in several directions. Crook rebuilt his regiment, packed supplies on mules (rather than in wagons) and traveled northward in pursuit of the Lakota. He soon ran so short of food that the men had to butcher horses; the trip became known as the Horsemeat March.



Crook's hungry and weary men surprised a Lakota encampment in the forested hills of modern-day Harding County. The Indians were in tipis, seeking refuge from hard rains, when the cavalry attacked and killed several warriors. American Horse, a Lakota chief, was mortally wounded. Finally, the U.S. Army had won a battle against the Lakota.



Crazy Horse came upon the scene. He and his men exchanged gunfire, but they soon made their escape from Crook's regiments, which were a thousand strong. McGillycuddy tended to the wounded, while Crook and his men demolished the Indian village and feasted on the Lakotas' stocks.



Several smaller skirmishes followed through the winter months, and by the summer of 1877 the Lakota - now hungry and weary themselves - began to make their way back to the reservations. But after fighting the government to a standstill, it didn't appear to be a retreat. Crazy Horse led a two-mile long procession of 889 Oglalas into Camp Robinson (south of today's South Dakota border) on May 6, 1877. His long, braided hair was wrapped in furs and he carried a rifle on his saddle. "By God," said an Army officer, "this is a triumphal march, not a surrender."



Crazy Horse developed a friendship with McGillycuddy during the summer of 1877 as the doctor treated his wife, Black Shawl, who was suffering from tuberculosis. Some accounts suggest that McGillycuddy was the only white man ever to have a friendly conversation with the renowned warrior.



Crook and his men had promised that Crazy Horse and his men could have an annual, 40-day buffalo hunt. But it was constantly being postponed, and since government rations were lean and often late, it became a thorny issue. The doctor urged Crazy Horse to travel to Washington to appeal to the president for his people, and Crazy Horse was considering the trip.



Crook and other officers feared the chief, and after hearing of a possible escape by Crazy Horse, they tried to arrest him on the early evening of Sept. 5. In the short skirmish, Crazy Horse was stabbed by a bayonet. McGillycuddy was called to the scene; he knew immediately that the wound was fatal.



When guards began to carry the bleeding Lakota leader to the cell house, McGillycuddy intervened. He persuaded the officers that any further disrespect of the chief could lead to more violence.



So Crazy Horse was taken to the small, log-frame adjutant's office, where he insisted on lying on the floor, near the earth. He told his father, Worm, that he was badly hurt. "Tell the people not to depend on me anymore now." He also told an interpreter that he blamed Indians, not the white soldiers. McGillycuddy tended to Crazy Horse until the end. He administered morphine to ease the pain. The chief died at 11:40 p.m.



The incident had a profound impact on McGillycuddy, who later wrote that he regarded Crazy Horse as the greatest leader of his people. "In him everything was made secondary to patriotism and love of his people. Modest, fearless, a mystic, a believer in destiny, and much of a recluse, he was held in veneration and admiration by the youngest warriors, who would follow him anywhere."



McGillycuddy called his death "one of the most pitiable and I may say inexcusable of the many I had to witness in my long career on the old frontier and brought back to me my friend Mark Twain's comment on the landing of the Pilgrim Fathers. 'They were good God fearing people and when they landed that day on Plymouth Rock from off the Mayflower, they fell upon their knees and thanked Almighty God for the many blessings he had vouchsafed them that day, in enabling them to reach a land of liberty and free thought. Later on, they fell upon the aborigines.'"



Some Lakota thereafter referred to McGillycuddy as Tasunka Witko Kola (Crazy Horse's Friend).



McGILLYCUDDY WENT TO Washington in 1879 and complained about the poor treatment of the Lakotas on the reservations. Respecting his passion and ideas, the Hayes administration offered him a position as Indian Agent at the Pine Ridge Reservation. It had been known as the Red Cloud Agency, so he arrived to find an unhappy Red Cloud. The two were immediate adversaries, even though they sometimes shared similar goals.



McGillycuddy was just 30 years old, so perhaps he was lacking finesse and patience. He was determined to help assimilate the Lakotas into "civilized" society as soon as possible. One of his plans was to settle Indian families on homesteads throughout the reservation. "In inducing them to scatter out in this way, I have naturally incurred the ill will of some of the chiefs, as they are fully alive to the fact that as soon as these Indians become house-owners and land-owners, their glory as petty potentates will have departed. So I have necessarily met much opposition, notably from Red Cloud, who, with the neighboring chief Spotted Tail, form about as egregious a pair of old frauds in the way of aids to their people in civilization as it has ever been my fortune or misfortune to encounter."



McGillycuddy tried to strip Red Cloud from power, and the old Lakota reciprocated. Red Cloud began to dress like a wealthy white man. He cut his long hair, and even accepted baptism by a Catholic priest. He developed friendships off the reservation, and used them to create havoc. His political skills were a match for the young Indian agent.



In 1885 the chief traveled to Washington to meet Grover Cleveland. He argued for McGillycuddy's dismissal, and the president agreed to hold a hearing on the matter. After listening to both sides, a government panel took no action.



McGillycuddy was paternalistic in his work, but he also brought honesty and integrity to a system rife with swindling and cronyism. He clamped down on whiskey sales and horse stealing. He organized modern schools, closed the military jails, delivered promised rations on schedule and trained an Indian police force.



Most importantly, he sought to instill self-sufficiency. He encouraged a farm and ranch culture on reservation lands. He also started housing programs and other industries. The Pine Ridge quickly became one of the most prosperous reservations in the country; Indians from other regions wanted to move there.



But McGillycuddy's battle against corruption caused much animosity from suppliers and officials who had been profiting from crooked dealings. Efforts to have him fired were relentless. His books were constantly audited and every decision was investigated. Finally, he was dismissed in 1886 after refusing an order to fire an innocent subordinate. Red Cloud had won.



McGillycuddy and his wife, Fanny, moved to Rapid City and built the sandstone house on South Street. That edge of the city was then nearly treeless, and houses were spaced far apart, and divided by spacious lawns and small outbuildings.



McGillycuddy jumped into urban life with gusto. He soon became mayor. He also served as dean at the South Dakota School of Mines and he pioneered efforts to start a hydroelectric power plant. He briefly served as a bank president. He became the state's first Surgeon General, and in 1890 he was elected to the Constitutional Convention to help craft a constitution for the new state of South Dakota.



Meanwhile, the Seventh Cavalry was summoned to the Pine Ridge. Young Indians were embracing the Ghost Dance, and government officials and soldiers were worried. McGillycuddy thought their nervousness was unfounded. "If the Seventh Day Adventists got up on the roofs of their houses in their ascension robes to welcome the Second Coming of Christ, the whole U.S. Army is not rushed into motion," he said.



Governor Arthur Mellette asked McGillycuddy to visit the reservation and give him a report. Upon arrival, he found Red Cloud, his old nemesis, in a forgiving mood. Red Cloud pointed to the doctor and told those gathered, "For seven winters he was our father. (He told us,) 'Some day you will say that my way was best for the Indian.' I will tell him now that he spoke the truth. He was a young man with an old man's head on his shoulders and he never sent for any soldiers."



McGillycuddy recommended that officials allow the Indians to practice their new religion. He also thought that the military should leave the Pine Ridge. He noted that there had been no violence or vandalism, not even "the scratch of a pin."



But tensions increased, and on Dec. 29, 1890, a bungled confrontation between the military and the Lakota resulted in one of the most infamous days in Old West history; more than 150 mostly unarmed Indians were killed by soldiers. Many were women and children.



McGillycuddy was in Rapid City when he heard the news. He left his sick wife's bedside and hurried to the reservation, where he found dozens of badly wounded survivors. At first, they were treated at the scene of the massacre; later they were taken in wagons to a Catholic church at Wounded Knee. Christmas tinsel and decor were on the walls of the makeshift hospital.



After doing all he could at Wounded Knee, the doctor solemnly returned to his duties in Rapid City. Fanny McGillycuddy died in 1897, and he left South Dakota for a position as a medical inspector for a life insurance company. He married Julia Blanchard; they eventually moved to California, and raised a daughter called Valentine. Though then in his late sixties, he signed on to help fight the deadly flu epidemic that was beginning to sweep the world prior to WWI. He served both in Californian and Alaska.



He died in 1939 at Berkeley, Calif., at the age of 90. Though he hadn't lived in South Dakota for 40 years, his heart was always there. His widow, Julia, wrote Rapid City officials for their help in fulfilling his last wishes. ""I am anxious not to have his ashes buried in a cemetery but to have them rest on some one of the Black Hills and I am writing to ask if you would be interested to use your influence to have this plan carried out," she said in a letter on August 1, 1939.



They granted her wish. McGillycuddy's remains were buried atop Harney Peak, the tallest in the Black Hills, the one he'd climbed 64 years earlier. Native Americans, local officials and relatives attended the simple ceremony. Later, a marker was placed at the site with his birth name and a name awarded him by the Lakota - Wasicu Waken, Holy White Man.







THROUGH THE YEARS, many of McGillycuddy's Indian and white contemporaries - most of whom lived shorter, less fruitful and less eventful lives - became immortalized in Old West lore. The names of Custer, Buffalo Bill, Wild Bill Hickok, Crazy Horse, Red Cloud and Calamity Jane are as familiar today as they were a century ago.



McGillycuddy wasn't completely forgotten. His second wife wrote a biography shortly after his death. In the 1990s, Black Hills novelist Dan O'Brien produced two novels based on the doctor's military and reservation years - The Contract Surgeon and The Indian Agent. The Journey Museum in downtown Rapid City now has a permanent McGillycuddy exhibit of historical documents, photographs and memorabilia. At Fort Robinson in Nebraska, where McGillycuddy cared for Crazy Horse, the adjutant's quarters, jail, and other structures are well preserved and open to the public.



Bev Shaw ran a small Rapid City restaurant called McGillycuddy's Cafe for six years before it closed in 2005. It was on Mount Rushmore Road, just a block from the McGillycuddy house. She and her restaurant staff had to constantly explain the name. "Hardly anybody knew who he was," she said. "We printed up material about him and we had pictures of him and his house on the walls. He had so many diverse interests and he had contributed so much to this area that we thought he deserved the recognition."







DANIEL STANTON WAS LIVING in a basement apartment when he saw the "For Sale" sign on the McGillycuddy house. It wasn't an ideal residence. Traffic from Mount Rushmore Road is relentless in the summer months. Some of the thick blocks of sandstone are starting to bow in one corner. The rooms are small and there's no space for a garage.



Even the historic ambience was greatly altered. Ceilings had been lowered and the entire house was covered with beige carpeting. "A friend and I were drinking margaritas and he was brushing salt off the table onto my carpet," Stanton said. "I remember thinking, 'What kind of fool has carpeting in the dining room?' So that evening I ripped up the carpet. Half the dining room had fifties-style hardwood and half was particle board, so I went down another layer and now I'm down to four-inch plank floor and I realize that this is the original floor."



Once Stanton became the owner of the house, he soon became associated with McGillycuddy. "We've become a magnet for information and questions. Relatives of his have come by. People bring us old letters and photos."



Stanton and his wife, Ruth, have even developed a friendship with Delio Gianturco, a grandson of McGillycuddy and his second wife, Julia. Gianturco lives in Washington, D.C., where he teaches international finance at George Mason University



Norm Nelson, a member of the Rapid City Historic Preservation Commission, says he and other local historians are happy that the Stantons have taken an interest in the house. Nelson said that apart from its obvious historic importance as McGillycuddy's home, it is also one of the few houses made of local sandstone.



"Many foundations were built of the sandstone, but not many houses," he said. "The Emmanuel Episcopal Church at 717 Quincy Street was built of the same stone."



Nelson said the McGillycuddy house lost some of its architectural importance when the wood-frame second story was removed. "I don't know exactly when they did that or why, but they turned it into a bungalow style." The house sits in the West Boulevard District, one of two historic districts in Rapid City. When McGillycuddy built it, South Street was the south border of the city.



Patrick Roseland, chairman of the preservation commission, agreed that historians are interested in the house, and watching the Stantons' progress. "When he built it, it was one of the finest homes in the city," Roseland said. "Yes, it has been modified. But it is historically important because of who lived there and how important the man was to our region and our state."



Stanton, who now works as an engineer in Rapid City, says he and Ruth feel a responsibility to protect it. "We're not rich, but we're doing what we can," he said. "Restoring it is going to take a lot of money. On a selfish level, I would love to restore the house and we live in it as ours.



"On a less selfish level, this should not be in private hands," he said. "It should belong to the community. For now, we're protecting it. At some point we will figure out how to get it in the community's hands so it can become the treasure it should be for generations to come."

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