The Stolen Steps: How the Walking Purchase Erased a Nation’s Land
In the annals of American colonial history, few events encapsulate the ruthless deception and profound injustice faced by Indigenous peoples as starkly as the Walking Purchase of 1737. For the Lenape (Delaware) people, this single act of calculated fraud by the heirs of William Penn was not merely a loss of land; it was a profound betrayal, a severing of sacred ties to their ancestral domain, and a catastrophic displacement that reverberates through generations. It is a story of how a "walk" became a sprint, and how trust, once foundational to Pennsylvania’s identity, was brutally shattered for the sake of colonial expansion and profit.
The story of the Walking Purchase is often framed as a legal dispute, a reinterpretation of an old, vague deed. But from the Lenape perspective, it was an egregious act of colonial cunning, an assault on their sovereignty and their very way of life. To understand its gravity, one must first recall the foundational relationship established by William Penn himself. Arriving in 1682, Penn, a Quaker, famously sought to deal justly with the Indigenous inhabitants. His "Great Treaty" with the Lenape at Shackamaxon (though its exact details are debated, its spirit of peaceful coexistence is not) promised fair dealings, respect for land, and a refusal to take territory without consent. This era, though imperfect, fostered a unique trust between the Lenape and the nascent Pennsylvania colony, a stark contrast to the bloody conflicts plaguing other colonial frontiers. The Lenape, in turn, saw Penn as a "true friend," and his colony, for a time, became a sanctuary.
However, this fragile peace began to erode after Penn’s death in 1718. His sons, particularly Thomas Penn, inherited a vast proprietorship burdened by debt and driven by a different ethos. Unlike his father, Thomas Penn saw the colony primarily as a source of revenue, and the vast unceded lands of the Lenape became an irresistible target. The fertile valleys of eastern Pennsylvania, teeming with game and rich soil, were coveted by a burgeoning settler population.
The instrument of this impending injustice was an obscure, undated document, purportedly from the 1680s, which Penn’s agents "discovered." This deed vaguely referred to a tract of land extending "as far as a man could walk in a day and a half." The Lenape understood such "walks" to be ceremonial, a leisurely stroll along a river or a known path, covering perhaps 30-40 miles, establishing a reasonable boundary that allowed both parties to coexist. It was a cultural understanding of land, not a rigid legalistic measurement for maximal acquisition. They envisioned a boundary that followed natural contours, respecting their hunting grounds and sacred sites.
Thomas Penn and his calculating secretary, James Logan, had a far more predatory interpretation. Facing mounting debts and settler demands, they saw the "walk" as an opportunity to seize as much land as physically possible. They disregarded the Lenape’s cultural understanding, planning instead a meticulously orchestrated land grab.
The stage was set for betrayal in September 1737. Logan and Penn’s agents hired three of the fastest runners in the colony – Edward Marshall, James Yeates, and Solomon Jennings – men known for their endurance and speed. They had already sent out surveyors to clear a path through the wilderness, removing obstacles and marking a straight, unhindered course. This was no leisurely stroll. This was a race.
On the morning of September 19, 1737, the "walk" commenced from a chestnut tree near Wrightstown in present-day Bucks County. Lenape chiefs, including Lappawinsoe and Nutimus, were present, expecting a traditional, respectful demarcation. What they witnessed, however, was a shocking display of colonial avarice. The runners, fueled by promises of land and payment, sprinted at an unrelenting pace, accompanied by men on horseback carrying supplies and guiding their route. The Lenape observers, struggling to keep up, grew increasingly dismayed.
"You are not walking, but running!" Chief Lappawinsoe is reported to have exclaimed, his protests ignored by the Pennsylvanian officials. The runners pushed themselves to their physical limits, covering incredible distances. Yeates and Jennings eventually collapsed from exhaustion, but Edward Marshall, the most formidable of the three, pressed on. He covered an astonishing 65 miles in a day and a half, a feat that transformed the spirit of the agreement into an act of outright theft.
The direction of the walk was another point of deliberate deception. While the Lenape expected a line drawn northwest towards the Lehigh River, the Penns’ agents steered the runners northeast, across the rugged terrain of the Kittatinny Mountains (Blue Mountains). This strategically chosen direction, maximizing the territory claimed, extended the boundary to the Delaware River, then followed it north for miles, encompassing an immense, triangular wedge of land.
The actual amount of land claimed was staggering: approximately 1.2 million acres, or about 1,875 square miles. This vast tract, roughly the size of Rhode Island, encompassed all of what is now Carbon, Monroe, Northampton, Lehigh, and Bucks counties, extending into parts of Schuylkill and Wayne counties. It included crucial Lenape hunting grounds, agricultural lands, and sacred ancestral sites – the very heart of their homeland.
The Lenape chiefs were utterly devastated. They had been swindled, their trust betrayed, their understanding of a "walk" twisted into a weapon of dispossession. They refused to vacate their ancestral lands, pleading with the colonial authorities to honor the spirit of the original agreement. But Thomas Penn, having secured his "legal" claim, would not budge.
Crucially, Penn and Logan then leveraged the authority of the Iroquois Confederacy (the Six Nations), who, under the 1722 Treaty of Albany, claimed suzerainty over the Lenape. In 1742, at a council in Philadelphia, the Penns demanded that the Iroquois force the Lenape to comply with the Walking Purchase. The Iroquois, eager to maintain their alliance with Pennsylvania and possibly receiving inducements, agreed. Canassatego, a prominent Onondaga chief representing the Iroquois, delivered a scathing and humiliating rebuke to the Lenape:
"You are women; you know you are women, and can no more think of acting like men than they can… We, therefore, charge you to remove instantly… We don’t give you the liberty to think about it."
This pronouncement was a final, devastating blow. Stripped of their land, publicly humiliated, and abandoned by their powerful Indigenous allies, the Lenape had no choice but to comply. They began a forced migration, a sorrowful exodus from lands their ancestors had occupied for millennia. Many moved westward, seeking refuge in the Ohio Country (present-day Ohio and western Pennsylvania), only to face further encroachment from relentless waves of settlers. Others migrated to Canada, forever severing their direct ties to the land that had defined them.
The Walking Purchase left an indelible scar on the Lenape people. It shattered their faith in colonial treaties, fueling deep resentment that would contribute to their participation in later conflicts like Pontiac’s War and the American Revolution, often siding with the French or British against the American colonists they now viewed as inveterate enemies. It marked a profound cultural trauma, the loss of a spiritual connection to their homeland, their ancestral burial grounds, and the resources that sustained their way of life.
Today, the Walking Purchase remains a potent symbol of the injustices perpetrated against Indigenous peoples during colonization. It stands as a stark reminder that "legal" documents, when stripped of ethical considerations and cultural understanding, can be instruments of immense oppression. The legacy of those stolen steps continues to resonate, informing contemporary struggles for Indigenous land rights, cultural preservation, and the recognition of historical truths. For the Lenape people, it is not merely a historical event, but a living wound, a testament to the enduring power of memory and the resilience of a nation that, despite profound loss, continues to walk its own path, seeking justice and recognition in the shadow of a broken promise.
