When I graduated from college, my husband gave me quite an unusual gift. We weren’t married yet, and the small gift wasn’t an engagement ring like some were predicting — that would come several months later.
This gift was, instead, an authentic arrowhead he had recently found on his family farm. Some girls might have been disappointed, but I was intrigued. I had what seemed like a million questions. Where did he find it? Were there any others? Could we look for more?
Native connection
I have always been intrigued by history, especially stories about Native Americans. Over the years, many arrowheads have been found on the farm. Native Americans would have fished, hunted and trapped along the creek that runs through a valley on the farm.
Many tribal groups such as the Shawnee, Ottawa, Seneca, Delaware, Miami and Wyandot thrived in Ohio while cultivating the rich soil. They produced corn, pumpkin, beans and squash. They foraged for wild berries, nuts and cherries.
Spears and arrows were effectively used by hunters to supplement their diets with protein from wild game. It was the fur trade that eventually changed their entire culture. The earliest contact between Native Americans and Europeans established a prosperous give and take in the fur trade.
Europeans wanted furs, and Native Americans were quick to trade for iron axes, fish hooks, guns and powder. They also traded for metal items like brass kettles and silver jewelry.
Reliance on imported goods from Europe led to a deterioration of their culture. They were no longer self-reliant. The fur trade also introduced alcohol to Native Americans, triggering a war with addictions that would continue to ravage future generations.
During the French and Indian War, the Native Americans sided with the French. Together, they stopped Gen. Braddock’s attempt to regain power at Fort Duquesne for England.
Legendary rock
At this point in history, a legend was growing from a small seed in Youngstown, Ohio. Except instead of a small seed, the legend was about a large rock.
A legend is a traditional story sometimes regarded as historical but not necessarily proven or validated. This story is certainly not validated. It was more or less passed down by word of mouth. Events were recalled and discussed decades after they occurred.
The story was recorded in several books about Youngstown. John C. Melnick included it in his book, The Green Cathedral, History of Mill Creek Park. It was originally recorded by William G. Connor, a pioneer settler of the Dry Run Valley area.
Connor had heard the story on a hunting trip in 1865 when he met Cyrus Dunlap, who was a young boy when he joined up with a surveying party in 1796. They surveyed township two, range two, of the Connecticut Western Reserve for John Young.
Dunlap recalled fur trappers telling him that the area was a favorite meeting place of Native American tribes. Three times a year, Native American tribes from the East and West would converge at a large rock to hold seasonal celebrations. They called the large rock “Nea-to-ka” which roughly means Council Rock.
Six different tribes were represented when approximately 3,500 Native Americans gathered at Council Rock, Sept. 20, 1755, to celebrate the defeat of Braddock. The tribes thought the defeat meant white settlers would be kept out of the Ohio Valley. Lightning strike. At some point during the meeting, a violent storm descended upon the gathering. Trees fell on tepees killing women and children. A bolt of lightning struck Council Rock killing four chiefs and 300 other Native Americans.
The lightning also caused a fissure in the great rock, separating a sliver of the rock from the rest. The tribes were fearful that they had upset their “Great Spirit” and left the area after burying their dead.
There is some validity to the claim that Native Americans left the area. When settlers began arriving, there weren’t many Native Americans left, only some passing through the valley.
I was reminded of this story when 246 years later, another violent storm hit the Ohio Valley, Sept. 22. I watched as a single bolt of lightning struck less than a mile from where I was sitting in my car.
Two violent claps of thunder accompanied the lightning, rattling my windows and quickening my pulse.
So much has changed in two and half centuries; the unusual rock is now surrounded by a struggling, urban neighborhood. However, Council Rock remains as a visual reminder of the area’s rich history and availability of natural resources.
