The Battle for the Valley: The Pennamite-Yankee Wars and the Struggle for the Wyoming Frontier

Long before the Wyoming Valley was a backdrop for mining towns and quiet suburbs, it was the heart of a contested frontier—one whose story was shaped by layered claims, desperate settlers, and blood spilled between neighbors. The conflict that followed—known as the Pennamite-Yankee Wars—was more than a dispute over deeds. It was a prolonged, deeply personal battle for identity, survival, and belonging.

This is the story of that war. Not the one of uniforms and flags, but of families who carried plows in one hand and rifles in the other.

A Valley Desired

The Wyoming Valley, with its rich soil, broad river plains, and forested hills, had long been known and cultivated by Indigenous peoples, including the Lenape (Delaware) and Susquehannock. It was part of a larger network of land and life that stretched across the Northeast. But by the mid-1700s, that deep, rooted world was being rapidly destabilized by disease, war, and colonial expansion.

In the midst of this unraveling, two colonies—Connecticut and Pennsylvania—each laid claim to the Wyoming Valley. The confusion began with conflicting land charters issued by the British Crown:

• Connecticut's 1662 charter claimed land from its borders westward to the Pacific Ocean, placing the Wyoming Valley firmly within its reach.

• Pennsylvania’s 1681 charter, granted to William Penn, also included the same area, though described differently.

The overlapping claims went unresolved for decades. And into this vacuum of governance stepped settlers—determined, hopeful, and increasingly armed.

The Susquehanna Company and Westmoreland County

In 1753, a group of Connecticut citizens formed the Susquehanna Company, purchasing land from the Iroquois (in a contested and unclear agreement) with the aim of establishing a new settlement in the Wyoming Valley. By 1762, the first group of settlers arrived, only to be driven off by Native resistance and colonial authorities.

But they returned.

By 1769, Connecticut families—some forty in total—had built Forty Fort along the west bank of the Susquehanna River, near present-day Kingston. They laid out townships and organized their new land as Westmoreland County, Connecticut, a bold claim of jurisdiction over territory already recognized by Pennsylvania.

The towns they named—Wilkes-Barre, Plymouth, Kingston, and Hanover—reflected their New England origins. They planted corn and wheat, cleared forests, built cabins, and expected the land to be theirs by right of toil and faith.

But the Pennsylvanians disagreed.

The First War (1769–1771)

Pennsylvania responded by sending surveyors, settlers, and militia to assert its claim. Charles Stewart, John Jennings, and Captain Lazarus Stewart were among the prominent figures on the Connecticut side. Pennsylvania dispatched officials like John Penn, Timothy Pickering, and local militia forces to enforce its authority.

A cycle of building and destroying forts began:

• Fort Durkee, built by Connecticut settlers, was seized by Pennamites.

• Fort Ogden was constructed by Pennsylvanians and retaliated against.

• Settlers were arrested, removed, and repeatedly returned.

No major battles were fought, but tensions were high and violence flared. Homes were burned, crops destroyed, and people beaten or killed. The war was personal, and it tore families and communities apart.

The Second War (1775)

Just as the American Revolution was igniting, the Pennamite-Yankee conflict flared again. With colonial attention elsewhere, settlers took the opportunity to retake land and reassert claims. Forts changed hands again. Violence continued in the shadows of the larger war for independence.

In the midst of the chaos, both sides entrenched their claims further. Connecticut residents held town meetings, organized militias, and sent representatives to Hartford. Pennsylvania did the same from Philadelphia.

The Wyoming Massacre (1778)

While not a direct part of the Pennamite-Yankee Wars, the Battle of Wyoming underscored the vulnerability of the region. On July 3, 1778, during the Revolutionary War, British Loyalist forces and their Iroquois allies launched a devastating attack on Connecticut settlers in the valley.

Led by Major John Butler, the Loyalists overwhelmed the hastily assembled local militia. Approximately 300 men were killed, and the settlement was destroyed. Survivors fled, and stories of scalping and torture—some real, others exaggerated—spread across the colonies.

The massacre became a rallying cry for patriots and was later immortalized in **Thomas Campbell’s 1809 poem "Gertrude of Wyoming."

The Third War (1784)

After the Revolutionary War ended, Congress turned its attention back to land disputes. In 1782, it ruled that the Wyoming Valley belonged to Pennsylvania. This ruling, known as the Decree of Trenton, invalidated Connecticut's claims—but it did not remove the settlers who had lived there for decades.

When Pennsylvania attempted to enforce its authority in 1784, violent resistance erupted again. Yankee settlers, now more entrenched than ever, fought to defend their homes. Forts were attacked and burned, including the symbolic Fort Dickinson.

Eventually, a compromise was reached: Pennsylvania would maintain control, but Connecticut settlers who were already living on the land would be allowed to stay and retain their property.

A Legacy in the Land

The Pennamite-Yankee Wars were not noble or heroic. They were bitter, drawn-out conflicts between people who believed they were right. At stake was not just land, but the right to belong. The scars of those years were literal—burned barns, shattered families, names etched in old stones.

But they also left behind stories, towns, and borders. The borough of Forty Fort still bears the name of those original forty families. The city of Wilkes-Barre—named after two British political reformers—stands where old forts once rose and fell. The very shape of Luzerne County is a result of those wars and compromises.

And the valley itself, lush and silent beneath the morning fog, still remembers.

Not just the blood and smoke.
But the people who came, who built, who fought—and who stayed.