In 1862, when North and South were locked in Civil War, the frontier state of Minnesota felt the fury of an even more fundamental internal conflict.  The Santee's, an eastern branch of the Sioux Nation, having endured a decade of traumatic change on a narrow reservation along the upper Minnesota River, launched the first attack in the Indian wars that would rack the West for many years to come.

Eleven years earlier, the tribe had ceded 24 million acres of hunting ground for a lump sum of $1,665,000 and the promise of future cash annuities.  Some genuine attempts had been made to ease the Indians into the society of whites.  Indian families were offered brick houses if they would agree to give up their hunting way of life and begin farming.  Many of those who accepted this option continued to live in tipis, however, and used the brick houses for storage.  In addition to the disruption of their culture, the Sioux gradually found themselves dependent on trade goods, which made them easy prey for white merchants, who gave credit and then collected directly from the government.  Thus the Indians saw little of the annuities for which they had sold their birthright.  Their anger finally reached the flash point when, following a winter of near starvation, the annual payment failed to arrive on time.

Bursting from their reservation, they killed more than 450 settlers in the region before they were defeated by a hastily assembled force of raw recruits led by Colonel Henry Sibley.  Even the Episcopal Bishop of Minnesota (Henry Whipple), a man of compassion and understanding, described the killing as "the most fearful Indian massacre in history."

This great event started with a small beginning.  On Sunday, August 17, 1862, four Sioux braves were walking back to their reservation after a hunting trip.  They spotted some hens eggs in a nest near the cottage of a settler named Robinson Jones.  When one of the braves picked up the eggs, another told him to leave them alone because they belonged to a white man.  Angered, the first smashed them on the ground and accused the other of cowardice.  "I'm not afraid of whites, and  I'll prove it.  I'll kill one."  By the time that boast had run its course, Jones, his wife, his daughter and two neighbors had been shot dead, and the braves were headed toward the reservation on stolen horses.

After they told what they had done, a council was hastily called from among several Sioux villages.  All night the chiefs deliberated.  Either they could turn the murderers over to the whites, or they could mount a general war.  Arguments were advanced on both sides.  Little Crow (a prominent tribal leader) warned that there was no way to beat the whites.  "Kill one, two, ten and ten times ten will come to kill you."

Persuaded by the other chiefs, Little Crow ordered an attack for the following morning on the government agency near Redwood Falls.  With surprise on their side, the Indians met little resistance.  Although they took some prisoners, and even spared a few settlers whom they regarded as friends, nearly every white they could find was killed on the spot.

Many victims of the Minnesota Massacre were those who bore no guilt for provoking the Sioux other than that they were white and they were there.  But the wrath of the Sioux fell most heavily on persons who had flagrantly abused them in the past.  One prime target was Andrew Myrick, a storekeeper who earlier in the summer had refused the Indians further credit with the remark, "If they are hungry, let them eat grass."  His body was found with its mouth crammed with grass.