What's in a name? Big Foot Beach State Park
Digging into the names of Wisconsin's Parks and Trails
[Preface: Wisconsin is home to some truly unique place names. Cities like Sheboygan and Oconomowoc often become the subject of memes, and for good reason—they’re fun to say and even more fun to hear. While there are several books that explore the history behind the names of Wisconsin’s cities, I’ve noticed that no one has really focused on the stories behind the names of our parks and trails. So, I decided to write one myself. In this blog, I’ll be sharing some excerpts from the book, starting with a look at Lake Geneva’s Big Foot Beach State Park.]
Big Foot Beach State Park (Walworth County, Wisconsin)
This popular State Park, nestled along the shores of Lake Geneva, is known for its many attractions: swimming, boating, picnicking, hiking, and Illinois license plate spotting. Surprisingly, though, it’s not known for Sasquatch sightings—despite the name Big Foot Beach sparking such speculation. While a cryptid origin story would certainly add intrigue, the real history behind the park’s name is far more somber.
Before European settlers arrived, the Lake Geneva area was home to a band of Prairie Potawatomi. In the early 1800s, around 500 Potawatomi lived in the Lake Geneva region. They called the lake Kiswauketoe, or "lake-of-clear waters." The name "Geneva" came much later, from a government surveyor who thought the lake resembled Geneva, New York. To avoid confusion with nearby Geneva, Illinois, the town was eventually renamed Lake Geneva.
The Potawatomi had a deep connection to the land. As part of their coming-of-age traditions, young boys would craft canoes from local linden and basswood trees, learning to navigate the lake. The Potawatomi also held several sacred sites around the lake, and their lives revolved around hunting, fishing, and farming in the area.
However, their way of life was dramatically altered starting in 1831, when the first white settlers arrived. The first recorded encounter was recounted by Juliette Kinzie in her book Wau-bun, The Early Day in the Northwest (1856). According to Kinzie, she and her husband, John H. Kinzie, met with the Potawatomi, explained their travel intentions, and shared a meal. But later encounters were far less friendly. The land that the Potawatomi had called home for generations was seen as a resource to be claimed. Over the next few decades, a series of treaties gradually forced the Potawatomi to cede their territory. By 1833, the Chicago Treaty "sold" much of southeastern Wisconsin, including the land around Lake Kiswauketoe, to the U.S. government for a small sum.
Potawatomi Chief Maumksuck, whose name translates to “Big Foot,” refused to sign the Chicago Treaty, but his resistance couldn’t prevent the looming tragedy. In the years following, the Potawatomi faced devastating hardships, including an outbreak of whooping cough in 1835-36, which decimated their population. With fewer people to resist, they had little choice but to comply with the government’s demands. Records indicate that Big Foot gave an emotional farewell to his homeland before leading his people westward, eventually relocating to Iowa in 1836.
Big Foot Beach became a State Park in 1949, ensuring that this poignant chapter in Wisconsin’s history remains remembered. The park is 271 acres and included campsites, a sand beach, picnic areas, and over six miles of trails.
This is a heartbreaking story, and I think it's great that you highlighted how this park really got its name. I love reading about the history and origin stories of our nation's smaller parks. As a kid growing up just a few miles from a park in the Sans Bois Mountains of southeastern Oklahoma called Robbers Cave State Park, me and my siblings heard the stories about how outlaws such as Jesse James, Belle Starr, and the Dalton Gang were rumored to have hidden out there in the caverns. We'd explore those caves and peek through all the crevices hoping to spot the gold that the outlaws supposedly hid there. The original CCC group camps, picnic shelters, roads, and old bathhouse-turned-nature center are all still there. My grandfather was employed as a carpenter in the park in the 70s and 80s, and my mom worked as a housekeeper in the cabins. My older brother donned a raccoon costume (Park Pal) and gave nature tours in the early 90s. He also helped maintain some of the equestrian and hiking trails. When I was 18, I spent the summer working in the cabin/campground office before heading off to college. Regrettably, the stories that we didn't hear growing up were those of the Osage and Caddo people who used those lands as a hunting ground and the native cultures that came before them. Your post has inspired me to dig deeper into that history.