Seney Island

BY WAYNE FANEBUST

Falls Park in Sioux Falls gets a lot of attention because of the commanding sight of water rushing over the ancient quartzite rocks. The park never lacks for visitors who sometimes seem transfixed by sound and power of the falls, but something is missing. That something is — or was — Seney Island, a small land mass that was made to disappear early in the 20th century after having graced the Big Sioux River and the surrounding terrain for centuries.

The island was first named “Brookings Island” after Wilmot W. Brookings, one of the first white men to call the falls home. Brookings was a member of the Western Town Company from Dubuque, Iowa, who arrived at the falls in the spring of 1857 with a party of men. They claimed 320 acres of land under federal law for the purpose of founding a town. The company folded rather quickly, but men like Brookings were not about to give up. And on September 10, 1863, a patent was issued to Brookings by the United States land office in Vermillion, the very first in Dakota Territory. The quarter section of land included the falls and its island.

In 1865, a military installation called Fort Dakota was established at the Sioux Falls town site, thus for a time, ending the growth of what seemed to be a promising city. When the fort closed down and the soldiers departed, a group of squatters on the property decided to pick up the citybuilding challenge, with a view of harnessing the tremendous power of the falls.

From time to time, visitors would show up and stand amazed at nature’s show. In the summer of 1870, a man from St. Louis described the falls and the island in graphic and somewhat clumsy terms. “Coming down from the north, blithesome and bright, it [the Big Sioux River] flows through sweet sunny vales, decked with many little gay sylvan scenes.” The enchanted visitor wrote “there is a beautiful little isle of oval shape, thickly covered with a growth of timber…an acre of loveliness.”

Another stunned visitor predicted that the island would be adorned by “grottos, arbors etc,” and would become a “trysting place for lovers where they will renew the talks of constancy and affection while the waters below are laughing in glee…” Whew!

The people of Sioux Falls did appreciate the island as a gem, a special place that was marked by a heavy growth of trees, something that was lacking in

the surrounding terrain. This outdoor “town hall” quickly became a mecca for gatherings of people who lounged in the grass in the shade of a maple or ash tree. A foot bridge was built over the channel and on July 4, 1872, the first of many Independence Day celebrations was held on Brookings Island.

The event caught the attention of the news media. And in a report in the Yankton Press, Brookings Island was called “Wilson’s Island,” one of “the loveliest spots in the world, just the place for a picnic.” Although they were isolated and cut-off from the world, the handful of pioneers were determined to celebrate with class and style. Men dressed in military regalia marched single file across the plank bridge onto the grass that, having been pastured by sheep, was “cropped to a perfect lawn.” They “fired a volley to salute the flag.” Next they shouted three cheers for President U. S. Grant, Dakota Territory and Minnehaha County. After doing their patriotic duty, everyone gathered together for refreshments and a fine meal prepared by the women of Sioux Falls.

After eating and drinking, someone read the Declaration of Independence. Upon hearing that sacred document, the American experiment in democracy, those gathered together raised a loud chorus of cheers. The people must have felt that a valuable tradition had been established, one that would grow in pride and spirit, the size of which would be measured by the population growth of the city and county. Many people looked upon the ten acre island, surrounded by clear, sparkling water as a gift to be treasured.

Over time, that sense of innocence and natural bliss weakened. A measure of neglect and indifference crept into the collective psyche. Some prominent men tended to look at the natural world with a view of exploiting its commercial potential. These men tended to see the utilitarian side of nature.

For example, the Big Sioux River was subjected to abuse from the earliest days of human contact. Raw sewage was carried downstream by the current. Any form of unwanted debris, including dead animals, was tossed into the water with little or no thought of the damage done. Meat packing businesses were established near the river so that the offal could be disposed of easily. Slowly, over time, the healthy river once teeming with fish, had lost its original character and charm.

But throughout the 1870s, the island continued to attract people and Sioux Falls seemed to be relishing its reputation as the “Lowell of the West.” Most of the gatherings were classy and mannerly, but on some occasions, men found the shady area as a good place to get drunk. A local diarist recalled the day when a party of men “repaired to the island to kill time

A picnic group on Seney Island, a popular recreation spot in the early days.

On the west side of the river is the site of Seney Island. This ten acre island split the current of the Big Sioux River, creating the first “park” for early residents to use for the Fourth of July and other holiday celebrations. The island was also a popular picnic spot. In 1907, the west channel was closed and filled to raise the pond for the Hydro Electric Plant. After 1916, the island’s many trees were removed, and a railroad freight yard was built on the land. Seney Island was originally named Brookings Island after its first owner, Wilmot W. Brookings, who was an agent for the Western Town Company. The name was changed in 1879 when the land was purchased by George Seney, builder of the Queen Bee Mill.

FUNDED THROUGH THE STATE PRESERVATION OFFICE BY THE NATIONAL PARK SERVICE

and birds and beer.” With a keg of beer from the local brewery, along with some rifles, the loutish men proceeded to drain the keg and randomly shoot. One of the reckless shots nearly hit a man who was there simply to enjoy the day. Although it was first reported that the unsuspecting man had been shot and killed, but later it was revealed that it was a close call and nothing more serious.

In the spring of 1879, it was announced that the falls and the island were part of an 80 acre package of land that was about to be purchased by group of New York capitalists. At the core of this project was the construction of a mill that would harness the power of the falls. The leading light of that group was George I. Seney, a millionaire and art collector. W. W. Brookings and other Sioux Falls businessmen were about to cash in big time.

A few months later, the deal was consummated, after which the construction of the Queen Bee Mill had begun. It was the beginning of the end the idyllic days of frolicking around the beloved island. From that day forward, Brookings Island was known as Seney Island, named for the New York millionaire who lived on an island called Manhattan.

The seven-story mill was built out of quartzite quarried nearby. After a splashy opening, the mill ground some wheat, but soon closed; it never turned a dollar of profit. In fact, it was a colossal failure that shocked the community. Over the years, men would try to make it work, but each time it failed. The empty, quiet mill seemed to have imposed itself on Sioux Falls like a cold, hard face, sneering in mockery.

Then in 1904, it was announced in the Argus-Leader that Seney Island was destined to “be cut up into residence lots.” THE ISLAND MUST GO, was the caption on the short article that must have seemed to some people, like a sad obituary. The owners of the Queen Bee property met and decided to carve it up into “blocks and lots” for sale. Soon thereafter, the channel around the lovely island was filled with every sort of rubble and rubbish imaginable. It was an island no more.

There were some voices of dissent. A few people expressed a desire for the city to purchase the property and make it into a city park, but it was all talk and no action. Historian Henry Smith, who in his youth spent many an hour on the island, was harshly critical of its destruction. In his book on Minnehaha County history, he excoriated those men who put personal profit over community interest. Without naming names, he harshly condemned in the strongest terms the rude and crude desecration of that small portion of nature that had given so many people so much pleasure in the early days of Sioux Falls.

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