Indiana wasn’t so exclusionary at it’s birth. However, in 1851, some very naughty politicians decided to add Article 13 when they were writing me. Today that stands as a great shame we can never really erase. Even if it was removed in 1881.

I wasn’t the first Constitution of Indiana. No, we had a version that was actually very well constructed. However, due to many pressures and constraints on a burgeoning state that was growing rapidly. They gutted my older sibling and buried them in the dirt. In the ashes of their destruction, I was written. To become the supreme law of the land. This is the tale of my older sibling. Who was torn asunder and re-written into something ugly and exclusionary. I’m wording it this way, because if we are to learn from the past. We have to understand it’s full impact.

In the heart of Indiana, our history is often written not in textbooks, but in the charred foundations of our city centers. We look at the modern landscape - the sleek lofts, the repurposed brick facades, the vibrant riverfronts - and we often forget the smoke that cleared the way for this progress.

At the confluence of the St. Joseph and St. Marys rivers—where they braid together to form the Maumee—lies a site of profound historical gravity. Known to the Miami people as Kiihkayonki, and to later histories as Kekionga, this was far more than a mere settlement; it was the beating heart of the Miami Nation and a fulcrum upon which the fate of the American frontier turned.

When you look back at the history of Indiana, it’s hard not to run into the story of John Dillinger. He wasn't just some two-bit crook. For a little over a year, this guy had the whole country—and especially the folks here in the Hoosier state—in a grip of fear and fascination that we haven't seen since.

To understand how a kid from Indianapolis turned into "Public Enemy Number One," we have to go all the way back to the start.

Most folks know where the rivers meet in Fort Wayne—the St. Joseph, the St. Mary’s, and the Maumee. But before it was a city, this spot was Kekionga, the heart of the Miami Nation.

It seems like only yesterday you could hop on a train heading from Fort Wayne to Indianapolis, and never have to ride in a car.

Before the interstate highway system and the era of the personal automobile. There was a different mode of transport sweeping the nation. If you lived in the Midwest or the Northeast during the early 1900s, you were likely within shouting distance of a phenomenon that promised to connect the smallest hamlet to the bustling city center: the Interurban.

In the 1920s, Indiana experienced a rapid rise in the influence and membership of the Ku Klux Klan (KKK). At the height of its power, membership was estimated to be approximately one-third of the state’s native-born, white Protestant men.