The Forgotten Creeks: A Historical Narrative
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The Poarch community has often been described as “The Forgotten Creeks,” a phrase later adopted as the title of the PBS documentary that brought national attention to our Nation. Yet the idea of being “forgotten” is more complex than it appears. We were never forgotten by our neighbors or within our own families. What was missing was acknowledgment by federal, state, and local governments—a failure that shaped many of the struggles we later faced in achieving recognition.
Our Creek ancestors in Alabama remained visible and known within southwestern Alabama. Creek families lived in close-knit communities, intermarried, and maintained strong kinship ties that preserved our identity well into the twentieth century. Locally, we were recognized as Indians. The absence lay not in memory, but in official acknowledgment, and this long-standing governmental neglect made federal recognition in 1984 an especially demanding process. The roots of that neglect extend deep into the nineteenth century.
Early Anthropologists
In the 1970s, anthropologist J. Anthony Paredes of Florida State University visited the Poarch community, noting that little outside research had been conducted on us during the twentieth century. He observed a large, cohesive group with a well-established local reputation as Indians, despite being ignored by government institutions. Paredes emphasized that we were one of the few eastern remnant Creek groups with an undisputed tribal pedigree.
Earlier, anthropologist Frank Speck visited briefly in 1941. He noted that our people were not originally known collectively as “Poarch,” but instead identified with smaller communities such as Hog Fork, Headapadea, Bell Creek, and Poarch Switch—names that also appeared in historical records, including the 1920 census listing for “Bell Creek Indian Village.” While Speck documented important observations, he also made errors. He assumed our ancestry was primarily Lower Creek from the Chattahoochee region, overlooking our deep ties to the Alabama (Alibamo) people and Upper Creek towns.
Our seasonal movements took us through the Tensaw Delta, along the Alabama River, and into the Coosa–Tallapoosa region. These were not random migrations but part of a longstanding pattern of land use for hunting, fishing, and settlement within a homeland to which we held enduring ties. Through these movements, our people blended Alabama and Mvskoke identities within the broader Creek Confederacy.
Speck also suggested Choctaw ancestry, though evidence more strongly supports Chickasaw connections through families such as the Colberts, whose descendants became part of our Creek identity. Though Speck heard little spoken Creek language during his visit, Paredes later recorded elders who retained Mvskoke words and expressions and remembered fluency among earlier generations. Even as daily use declined, the language endured through memory and transmission.
Lynn McGhee and the Land Grant Tradition
A central figure in our history is Lynn McGhee, whose story reflects the broader Creek experience following the Creek War and the Treaty of Fort Jackson (1814). That treaty forced the Creek Nation to cede more than 20 million acres, including at least six million acres of ancestral homelands. It promised land compensation to Creeks deemed “friendly” to the United States, and under this provision Lynn pursued a land claim that would last more than thirty years.
Notably, while many Creek leaders signed the Treaty of Fort Jackson, no Poarch Creek ancestor did. Our forebears—among them William Weatherford, Ol’ Sam Moniac, Alexander Dixon Moniac, David Tate, Lauchlin Durant, and Malcolm McPherson—were prominent figures remembered on both sides of the conflict. Their lives reflect the divided loyalties that fractured many Creek families during the war.
Unlike others whose allotments were quickly secured, Lynn’s claim stalled for decades. In testimony from 1823 and later letters, Lynn and his brother Semoye asserted that their families had cultivated land east of the Alabama River near Eliska, Eureka Landing, and Choctaw Bluff for generations. These lands were rich in ancestral memory and mound sites. Despite repeated petitions and testimony, Lynn was never allowed to reclaim his original fields. When he attempted to do so, he was threatened by white settlers, including John Gayle, later governor of Alabama.
Although Congress eventually authorized land grants to Lynn and Semoye in the 1830s, the parcels were scattered and did not include their river homelands. With no path back, Lynn settled at Tatesville with the support of Creek leader David Tate. There, he established himself as a cattleman in the longleaf pine and bog savannah landscape. Lynn was buried nearby, close to land later settled by his son Richard, who finally resolved the family’s land claims in 1853 at Headapadea and Huxford.
Lynn’s struggle was not unique. His relative Lachlan Durant spent years attempting to reclaim family lands east of the Alabama River, despite proving legal inheritance. Together, their stories illustrate the displacement and legal chaos that followed the war, as Creek families fought to survive amid relentless settler encroachment. Unlike well-known leaders, Lynn endured as a working man—cattleman, ferry operator, interpreter, and post rider—roles that sustained his family through profound change.
Isolation and Continuity
By the time Speck visited in 1941, the Poarch Creek community was geographically and socially isolated from other Native groups. Memories of Removal persisted, with elders recalling fear that strangers might signal forced relocation to Indian Territory. Some family members did travel west to inspect lands in Arkansas, yet many returned home. Those who went west often came back and were buried in ancestral cemeteries such as Red Hill (Huxford).
Even as squatters advanced along the Alabama River, outsiders recorded seeing Creek families still fishing, hunting, and living from the land well into the mid-nineteenth century. Over time, mounting pressure forced our people south and southeast into what became Escambia County, where new communities emerged at Bell Creek, Hog Fork, Poarch Switch, and Headapadea.
Though our land base grew smaller, we remained Creek—bound by shared traditions, kinship, and memory. Historical records and oral histories show that we were never willingly severed from the Creek Nation or its people. Instead, we carried forward an enduring connection to our way of life. Far from being “forgotten,” we preserved our identity through displacement, land loss, and generations of hardship. Today, that legacy lives on in Alabama, honoring the strength, resilience, and determination of those who came before us.