The Judge Report - Millard Parker, Indian Fighter

While all the world around him reads and listens to the daily news of war, of cities devastated from the air, Flying  Fortresses and tanks, armies numbered by millions instead of thousands, strife and contest of brawn and brain enveloping all the earth, rather than a small portion of it, an old, old man sits in his place and listens, contrasting that which is with that which was, and from a store of memories accrued in a life of more than 90 years, he tells to all who will listen, and they are many, including such juvenile groups as are above pictured around him, stories of what used to be, as contrasted with what now is. Listening with keen interest to all that the radio tells him, or his friends may read to him—for he is blind—he knows all that is transpiring as to Hitler and Hirohito and Mussolini, Roosevelt, Churchill and Stalin, MacArthur, Rommel and all who lead the armies of the world. As he hears of all this his thoughts revert to such names as Sitting Bull, "Deer Foot," Custer,  Lincoln, "Wild Bill" Hickok and the strife and all the politics and policies connected with these names.

When he listens to the stories of the American soldier, best fed in the history of war, he remembers his diet of hard tack and bacon, varied by an occasional ration of beans. When he hears of the fund of the "Smokes for Yanks" he will tell you of the days when the soldier's allotment of tobacco was one pound of plug a month, sometimes, how the fighting men of his day first chewed this plug, then dried the quid for smoking, augmenting this second supply by scraps from the bark of trees, "kilikinick."

Hearing of the wages of defense workers of our day, the nonagenarian will tell you of the days of the Civil War, when his father, a harnessmaker, worked in the Watervliet Arsenal for $2 per day, the regular wage of all mechanics, and how in those days kerosene, the only means of lighting, except candles, was 50 cents a gallon, tea $1 per pound, no coffee at any price, flour $15 a barrel, and coal $14 a ton.

Some of these memories are childhood memories of Millard P. Parker, shown in the above picture sitting in his store, 25 Henry Street. Other recollections are of his days as a young man, a soldier in the Seventh Cavalry of the United States Regular Army, under General George A. Custer during those turbulent times following the Civil War when Indian uprisings were common, and Indian fighting seems to have required strategy and tactics quite different from the accepted principles of regular warfare.

Mr. Parker was born in North Chatham, Columbia County, August 16, 1852. and so has just passed his 91st birthday anniversary. One of such age whose memory reverts to events of 80 years ago and longer and thence onward to the present, known as an old soldier of the Indian wars, could be interviewed to advantage, a Recorder man felt.

The only doubt of the one who did the interviewing is that written, the tale will fall far short of the factual values of Mr. Parker's reminiscences, which include plenty more than his days as a soldier. He might well serve as a county history for any one interested in the long ago of Rensselaer, Albany and Montgomery Counties.

Mr. Parker needed no introduction to The Recorder's representative who called on him Thursday. Hearing the voice he recalled him as one who years ago patronized the Parker restaurant on West Main Street, where more food, and good, could be had for less money than almost anywhere else in the nation.

Recalling those days Mr. Parker remarked, "Yes and I made money, and I could now If I were able to get out and get the help to start again."

He then began to recall the events of his life, and talked for about 90 minutes, creating the impression that he remembered everything he had seen and everybody he had known from the days that memory began to function up to the present.

He started with recollections of his life in Albany as a young man, recalling the five newspapers printed there, the owners and publishers of each, then reverted to his early childhood to say that when he was five years of age his family moved from his birthplace to Crescent, Saratoga County. He remembered the Lincoln-Douglas debates of that period, and described how the supporters of the Democratic party wore a red sash, or uniform, in their demonstrations, the Republicans favoring black.

A resident of Troy when a boy of 10 or 11, the raconteur recalled the fire of 1861, and the draft riots of 1862, when the prisoners were released from jail, and some Negroes hanged from lamp posts.

It was at this point that Mr. Parker discussed the ten-hour day at $2 per day, of the ''defense worker" of the Civil War, quoting the prices prevailing, and remarking that there were five children in his family.  "How did you make out?" he was asked. "Well," he answered dryly, "here I am."

Becomes Indian Fighter
The story teller went on with further recollections of his early life in Troy and Albany, too numerous to be included in a short newspaper sketch, coming to the time when, in 1875, at the age of 23, he enlisted in the First Infantry Company. The First Infantry and Seventh Cavalry were practically one, it was explained, the Cavalry being under Custer, and all the troops supervising the Sioux Reservation in the Black Hills.

It was the discovery of gold in Deadwood in 1876 that led to trouble, Mr. Parker believes. The government wanted to move the Sioux to another locality and this, he said, "made them mad and they went on the warpath."

Custer at this time was not with the Army, and a petition that he be returned was granted. He was at this time a lieutenant colonel, Mr. Parker declared, with the brevet rank of brigadier general. General Terry was in command of the troops arrayed against the Sioux at this time, and he had plenty of men, the story continued.

Custer was ordered to maneuver, General Terry wishing no engagement if possible but rather a parley, but Custer made a forced march resulting in the massacre of himself and his 276 soldiers of the Seventh Cavalry by the Sioux under Sitting Bull at the Battle of Little Big Horn, Montana, on June 25, 1876.

During this period Mr. Parker said none of the scouts whose names are best known were with the Seventh Cavalry such as "Buffalo Bill" and "Wild Bill” Hickok.

"We had Yellowstone Kelly," he said, "a better scout than any of them." Three months after the massacre the only living thing, man or beast, that escaped was found in possession of the Indians, recollections of the Little Big Horn concluded. This was a horse ridden by Captain Miles Kehoe. Orders were given that this steed never be mounted again, and these orders were obeyed, the horse reaching the age of 40 years.

No Bloodshed Here
In 1877 Mr. Parker participated in the campaign against the Nez Perces, the United States troops being commanded by General Miles, who later won distinction in the Spanish-American War. There was no bloodshed. The Indians were surrounded and after a parley surrendered.

It was here that Mr, Parker told of the food supplied during the campaigns, hard tack, bacon, occasionally beans For months at a time, he said, there were no potatoes or fresh bread. A gun, haversack, canteen and ammunition belt, was the soldier's equipment in the field.

Asked about tobacco at this phase of his recollections, the old Indian campaigner explained as above quoted, and added that he had seen soldiers offered $5 for a quarter of a pound of their allowance. The answers were uniformly in a profane negative.

Some of the Indian chiefs and leaders recalled by Mr. Parker were Crazy Horse, Mad Bear, Rain in the Face, Deer Foot and Sitting Bull. The last named, he recalled, entered Canada after the uprising of 1876 was quelled, and later returned through the intervention of a Catholic priest who had great influence with the Indians.

Rather than the silent stealthy approach of the Indian in war, as described by historians of the earlier days, Mr. Parker's recollections of Indian fighting are constant motion, the ring of galloping ponies circling again and again in an ever narrowing radius, riders almost invisible firing from beneath their ponies' bellies. The most effective move against them, he intimated, was the surrounding movement, crowding the tribes into as close a space as possible, covering them with six-pound howitzers, offering parley and surrender without loss. It was in this way that General Miles subdued the Nez Perces.

Not Naturally Treacherous
Asked if in his opinion the Indian was naturally treacherous, Mr. Parker uttered an emphatic "No." "The Indians and the soldiers got along fine," he said. "The government robbed them."

He continued to recall incidents of supplies started for various reservations which never reached their destinations, and cited some scandals during the administration of President Grant, which touched the names of men in very high places at the time, all of which doubtless may be found in any standard encyclopedia, but never appeared in any school history textbook, not in the school days of the writer at least.

At this point Mr. Parker hearing his guest about to depart, not because of lagging interest, but because of a plethora of material, said, "Say, I used to be an oarsman too. I rowed double sculls with a man named Graves. After I left he got another partner, and they won the championship of the country at the Philadelphia Centennial. It might have been me if I hadn't enlisted."

As the writer departed after a delightful ceremony, a fit conclusion to the visit, Mr. Parker remarked, "I haven't told you anything yet.”