Cobmoosa

Cobmoosa (c. 1768 - 1866),[a] or Weebmossa meaning "Great Walker",[3][b] was an Odawa leader[6][7] who lived in a Native American village at the mouth of the Flat River at the present-day city of Lowell, Michigan until 1858.

The federal government negotiated with the state's tribal leaders beginning in 1836, but were unable to secure a viable treaty to relocate them.

As a result of the 1855 treaty, Cobmoosa's tribe relocated from its ancestral lands to Elbridge Township in Oceana County, Michigan.

There was compensation for the tribal chiefs and headmen, but most of the approximately $540,000 in cash and goods went to white "friends" involved in the negotiation process.

[1] He lived in an Odawa village near the mouth of the Flat River,[1] where the current town of Lowell, Michigan is located.

That year, the village of Ionia was founded by 63 people from Eastern New York and needed a place to live while they built their log cabins.

[11] The treaty of 1836 was not abided once the tribes learned that they were required to relocate to Kansas, which was a problem due to the distance and change in habitat.

[2][8][13] In 1855, Cobmoosa signed the Treaty of Detroit with the federal government which meant that his tribe would relocate to Oceana County, Michigan.

[2][6] Reluctant to move to the reservation in Elbridge Township, Michigan, he waited until all of the tribe had relocated and stayed near the graves of his forefathers as long as he could.

The Daughters of the American Revolution's Ionia chapter had the monument created with the inscription: "Ottawa Indian Chief and Great Speaker of the Tribe.

He was recognized in part for his role in the Treaty of Detroit of 1855 that required the Odawa people to move to Mason and Oceana counties of Michigan.

My step is the tread of a warrior no more; The days of my pride and my glory are o’er; No more shall I follow the foeman’s tracks; No more shall the war-chief welcome me back; My bow, my nerves, and my heart are unstrung; My death-song alone remains to be sung.

The braves of my clan have sunk to their rest; Their children are gone to the north and the west; The forests have fallen, the land is sold; Our birthright is gone for the Christian’s gold, And manhood has passed from the Indian’s brow, Since he gave the soil to the white man’s plow.

The oak may be rent by the lightning of heaven; The storm-wind may bow it, its stem may be riven; But with trunk sere and blasted, and shorn of its bays, Still grasping the earth, it proudly decays.