Tag Archives: Civil War

“Faded Coat of Blue” — Steuben’s High Cost in the Civil War

Steuben County counted 66,690 souls in the 1860 census. Since just about half of them would have been male, figure that at 33,345. The looking at males of military age – would a third of those males be a reasonable proportion? That would make 11,115. Several thousand of them went off to fight in the Civil War, where they saved the Union, destroyed slavery, and re-established democratic majority rule. But they paid a high price, and over 500 of them died.
That’s a big number, and some of it came from sickness, and some from inadequate medical care. They were lost forever, while others came home, but came home incomplete.
One man, I believe from Caton, lost his hearing entirely, due to a bomb blast. A young man from Almond was part of a small rear guard left on the wrong side of the river to delay the attacking Confederates (they expected to be killed or captured) as Union troops retreated. They escaped in the end, and he had a distinguished civilian career. But all the rest of his life the sound of a whippoorwill “filled me with horror,” flashing him back to the long and terrifying night.
An Addison man came home despite having been shot in the head, but fell into despair at how many of his friends and neighbors did NOT come home. He found some measure of peace through prayer, church, and physical labor in the farm fields.
A Howard man was shot at a battle in Louisiana. The bullet drilled completely through his pocket diary, and mangled but did not pierce a tintype of his wife and child. He returned home to father more children, and lived a long life.
Monroe Brundage of Hammondsport lost an arm at Antietam – still the bloodiest day in American military history. Brundage stayed in the field commanding his men until doctors amputated on the following day. He tried to return to duty a few months later, but soon recognized he was no longer strong enough. He went home to a successful law career, but died young ten years later.
Lieutenant Henry C. Lyon was sent home after being gravely wounded at Antietam, but he died on the way, never seeing Pulteney, or his family, again.
R.C. Philips of Prattsburgh was shot in the shoulder defending Little Round Top at Gettysburg, and while a surgeon saved his arm, he lost the USE of that arm. He then became an officer (only one arm needed) with the U.S. Colored Troops. But farming was a struggle after the war. That caused much family pain two decades later, when he demanded that his eldest son, rather than continuing his education, stay on the farm to do the work that his father couldn’t.
Morris Brown Jr. received the Congressional Medal of Honor for leading his men out into the field of Gettysburg to attack Pickett’s Charge from the flank. He was finally killed between the lines in the Siege of Petersburg, and his body was never recovered.
Benjamin Bennitt signed up for an infantry hitch and a cavalry hitch, and became a P.O.W. He escaped four times from Confederate captivity, once cutting his way through the floor of a moving train. Civilians captured him after one escape, and Confederate Home Guardsmen had to pull him away from from a lynch mob. He was finally returned to Hammondsport on a prisoner exchange, once P.O.W. camp had rendered him so weak and sick that he could never fight again.
Marine Private Charles Brother was a runner on Admiral Farragut’s flagship during the Battle of Mobile Bay. “Men blown to pieces… Killed and wounded in every form,” he wrote. “Our cockpit looked like a slaughterhouse.” He returned safe home to Bath, but the war shadowed the rest of his life, which ended in what may have been suicide.
West Pointer W. W. Averell came from Cameron, but lived much of his adult life in Bath. The army rated him disabled by wounds from Indian fighting, but he immediately returned to the colors in 1861. He then contracted malaria, but nevertheless fought through most of the Civil War, and rose to be General.
As we said earlier, they saved the Union, destroyed slavery, and re-established majority rule. But the price, for them and their families, was very, very high.

There is many a boy here who looks on war as all glory, but boys, it is all hell. – William Tecumseh Sherman

Diary of a Civil War Marine

From right here in our area we have several lengthy published first-hand accounts of the Civil War, telling of bloody battles at Gettysburg and the Wilderness, of postings as far afield as Missouri, New Mexico, and the Dry Tortugas.

None of them traveled as far as a fellow whose diary has just been published by his great-great granddaughter Christine Friesel. “The Boys of Bath: The Civil War Diaries of Pvt. Charles Brother, USMC” brings us an unusual view of the war. Local men marched off to the army in thousands, but only a handful joined naval service.

Charley Brother came from a prominent Bath family – his father, a former county sheriff, was a stalwart of the Agricultural Society (which puts on the County Fair). Father and sons alike were active in business, and they lived in the house still standing at 110 West Morris Street. In 1862 Charley’s pals Josiah Gregg, Theodore Harris, and Phineas Towle went to Brooklyn Navy Yard to join the marines. Eighteen year-old Charley quickly joined them.

Nowadays the Marine Corps prides itself on intensive training, but that was pretty sketchy in 1862. On the evening of his first full day, a sergeant “took me in hand and put me through a few motions. Said I am competent to go into a squad he has been drilling some two or three weeks.” On November 4 the Bath contingent put to sea in U.S.S. Vanderbilt, originally a steam passenger liner donated by the millionaire.

They were enforcing the blockade of the Confederate coast, and searching for the commerce raider Alabama, getting trained in handling the ship’s guns (cannons) en route. Up till then Charley’s diary had included Bath, Corning, Elmira, Port Jervis, Manhattan, and Brooklyn. Now he sprinkles the names of Bermuda, Spain, the Azores, Jamaica, St. Thomas, Martinique, surely making him the most widely traveled of our Civil War diarists. What he does NOT mention is going ashore at any of these very interesting destinations. Warships were generally allowed only 24 hours in neutral ports, and many sailors liked the dream of tropical isles far better than they liked the reality of navy life. The smart captain kept well offshore, if he wanted to keep his crew.

In February Vanderbilt captured a blockade runner and Brother was told off to join the prize crew (even leaving his coat behind), and take the vessel into Key West. Now separated from his ship, he wound up back in Brooklyn, and was still there in July when “A great riot in opposition to the draft broke out… Twenty of us marines were ordered to fall in… with our belts and muskets. Were given thirty rounds of ball cartridges and marched over to New York.” The genocidal riot ran several days, but Brother’s detachment only needed bayonets once, to clear a park.

By August 5, 1864 he was aboard Admiral Farragut’s flagship, the Hartford, charging though a minefield into Mobile Bay. He was a message runner that day, giving him too good a view of “Men blown to pieces… Killed and wounded in every form…. Our cockpit looked like a slaughterhouse.” By sunset their sacrifice, and Farragut’s audacity, had closed one of the south’s few remaining ports.

On October 24, 1865, with the war almost six months over, Charley got off the train in Corning for breakfast. When he arrived in Bath, a walk of three or four minutes took him to his house, where “Mother and Father were at home.” The war would cast a shadow over the rest of his life. But all in all, it was a happy ending.

(“The Boys of Bath” is available in hardcover from Steuben County Historical Society at $33, plus $5 shipping if needed. Cash or check only – by mail or in person at One Conhocton Street, Bath, 14810. We’re glad we could help Christine in preparing the manuscript!)

American Gethsemane: Steuben County in the Civil War

The Civil War killed as many Americans as all our other wars combined. The “official” Civil War toll is about 625,000, but my research suggests that that’s bogus, because it doesn’t count men who were so sick or so badly wounded that they were discharged, and died soon afterward. By way of comparison, ALL OTHER war deaths total 695,000.
*Of course the Civil War toll includes both sides, and to balance things we should include American Indian deaths in the “all other wars” total.
*Anyhow the Civil War killed maybe 700,000 out of a population of 28 million (2.5% of the total, or 5% of American males). World War II killed 406,000 out of 132 million (three-tenths of one percent, again overwhelmingly male).
*I wanted to look at how the Civil War affected us locally, and I’ve been using W. W. Clayton’s 1879 History of Steuben County to see what the local death toll was, and whether there were any particular battles or prisons that accounted for large numbers of Steuben men. (Clayton gives a town-by-town list of names, usually with detail on each man’s service. His list is known to be incomplete, but it’s probably the best we’ll have.)
*Illness was the big killer of the war, and I suspect that nearly all of the unspecified deaths are actually due to illness. A startling number died at their mustering point of Elmira, before they even left the Southern Tier. No doubt all those men packing together created problems with sewage and with drinking water. But on top of that, many men had never strayed far from their farm or their hamlet. Packed together with thousands of others, they suddenly encountered illnesses they had never faced before, reacted to them severely, and died accordingly.

*Clayton shows a total of 5231 Steuben men in the service.

Died of Illness 099; Unspecified 176 Probably mostly illness; Battle Causes 165; In Prison Camp 049; Accident 007; Suicide 002: TOTAL 498 (9.5% of those who served).

*However this total is known to be low. Clayton’s reports on Howard, Hartsville, and Prattsburgh are lacking death tolls. His report on Wayland only reports deaths for those residents who enlisted in that town. For those who enlisted elsewhere – about half of the group – he has no death reports. Therefore we can conclude that the death toll is well over 500.

*Highest number in service: Bath (455)

*Highest number died in service: Corning (44), Bath (43)

*Highest percentage died in service: Troupsburg (62/222 = 28%)

*The largest single source of death (other than illness) is the Confederate prison system (49).

*The second largest single source is Andersonville Prison by itself. (24). The Andersonville commandant was hanged after the Civil War’s only war crimes trial. (Most prison deaths are probably from illness or starvation, rather than from direct attack by guards.)

*Besides the 24 Andersonville deaths, the total of 49 also includes deaths at Salisbury (6), Florence (4), and Libby Prison (4). Some of those who died in prison no doubt succumbed to wounds they had already suffered before they were captured.

*Besides looking at total death rates, I wanted to see whether particular battles, prisons, or causes took heavy tolls… since men generally served alongside their neighbors, one fierce battle could devastate a whole community.

*Major death tolls attributable to particular battles: Antietam 18; Wilderness 16; Dallas (13) + New Hope Church (3) = 16; Gettysburg 11; Second Bull Run 7; Fredericksburg 6; Chancellorsville 6; Resaca 4; Sabine Crossroads 4.

*Major death tolls attributable to particular campaigns.

*Atlanta Campaign (25 total): Dallas 13; New Hope Church 3; Resaca 4; Marietta 1; Peachtree Creek 3; Atlanta 1.

*Overland Campaign (20 total): Wilderness 16; Spottsylvania 3; Cold Harbor 1.

*Maryland Campaign (19 total): Antietam 18; South Mountain 1.

*Siege of Petersburg (10 total): Petersburg 7; Hatcher’s Run 3.

*Peninsula Campaign (8 total): Williamsburg 2; Fair Oaks 1; Seven Days Battles 5, broken out as Oak Grove 1, Gaines Mill 1, White Oak Swamp 2, Unspecified 1.

*Thus the single battle taking the highest death toll of Steuben men is Antietam… unsurprising in that despite machine guns, poison gas, and all the other killing machinery of modern total war, Antietam remains the bloodiest day in American military history. Moreover, remember that Antietam took place on a single day, whereas many other battles (Gettysburg, Wilderness, Chancellorsville) lasted multiple days.

*The single campaign taking the highest death toll of Steuben men is the Atlanta Campaign.
The fact that the Dallas + New Hope Church total equals the total for the Wilderness suggests fierce fighting, or else very bad leadership… possibly both.

*The American Civil War, because of many innovations in tactics and technology, has been called the first modern war. Part of what happened in this war was that the killing technology got far ahead of the saving technology. Weaponry foreshadowed the 20th century, but surgery and medical care weren’t much advanced from when the Duke of Marlborough was fighting King Louis XIV, back in the early 1700s. I imagine that one of Marlborough’s surgeons could have stepped into a Civil War hospital tent and started operating without causing any comment.

*It’s also true that while technology and tactics were evolving, some commanders didn’t get the memo. “Pickett’s Charge” at Gettysburg, ordered by Robert E. Lee, was an example of a commander reverting to the outdated Napoleonic tactics he had learned at West Point… and inflicting a murderous death toll on his own men.

*And, of course, none of this counts those Steuben men that we KNOW came home missing limbs, having lost the use of limbs, blinded, deafened, debilitated, emotionally and psychologically scarred.

A Heavy Toll: Steuben County in the Civil War (Part II)

Over 500 Steuben County men died in the Civil War… an 1878 history lists 498 of them, but has missing or incomplete figures for Howard, Wayland, and Prattsburgh.
*Disease was the biggest killer of that war, so the 99 dead of illness is no surprise. There were also 176 unspecified deaths, which were probably overwhelmingly due to illness.
*Seven deaths came from accident, two from suicide. Forty-nine Steuben County fellows died in Confederate captivity. There were 165 deaths from battle causes.
*I tried to narrow this down – were there particular battles or campaigns where the deaths ran into large numbers? Civil War units were formed mostly geographically, so a town or a county could suffer catastrophic losses all at once.
*Omitting illness and unspecified, the Confederate prison system was the biggest killer. The second-biggest was a SINGLE camp, at Andersonville in Georgia (24). The commandant at Andersonville was hanged after the Civil War’s only war crimes trial.
*Next came the Battle of Antietam, with 18 dead… no surprise. Even with the rest of the Civil War, World War I, and World War II… even with bombs and tanks and rockets and poison gas… Antietam remains the bloodiest single day in American military history.
*There were 16 deaths in the Wilderness, 16 at Dallas/New Hope Church, 11 at Gettysburg, 7 at Second Bull Run, six each at Fredericksburg and Chancellorsville, and four each at Resaca and Sabine Crossroads. Most of these were big death-toll battles in general, but they all were multi-day affairs – making the 18 dead during sunlit hours of a September 17, 1862 at Antietam all the more horrifying.
*When looked at by campaigns, Sherman’s Atlanta Campaign just edges out Andersonville (25 deaths to 24). Twenty men died in the Overland Campaign, ten in the Siege of Petersburg, and eight in the Peninsula Campaign.
*Taking a birds-eye look at Steuben towns in the Civil War, Bath sent the most men (455), but Corning had the most deaths (44, to Bath’s 43). Troupsburg sent an unbelieveable 222 men to the Civil War, and 62 of them died… making the highest death rate (28%) of any municipality in Steuben County. We’ll look at Troupsburg’s calvary in more detail at a later date.

A Heavy Toll: Steuben County in the Civil War (Part I)

The Civil War killed as many Americans as all our other wars combined. The “official” Civil War toll is about 625,000, but my research suggests that that’s bogus, because it doesn’t count men who were so sick or so badly wounded that they were discharged, and died soon afterward. By way of comparison, all other war deaths total 695,000.

*Of course the Civil War toll includes both sides, and to balance things we should include American Indian deaths in the “all other wars” total.

*Anyhow the Civil War killed maybe 700,000 out of a population of 28 million (2.5% of the total, or 5% of American males). World War II killed 406,000 out of 132 million (three-tenths of one percent, again overwhelmingly male).

*I wanted to look at how the Civil War affected us locally, and I’ve been using W. W. Clayton’s 1879 “History of Steuben County” to see what the local death toll was, and whether there were any particular battles or prisons that accounted for large numbers of Steuben men. (Clayton gives a town-by-town list of names, usually with detail on each man’s service.)

*So far I’ve been through nine of 32 towns (Addison through Cohocton, in alphabetical order). Bath had the highest number of soldiers (455) and the highest number of deaths (43, or 9%). But Avoca, with 175 men and 39 deaths, had the highest loss rate (22%).

*Interestingly the next highest enlistment number came from tiny Caton (226 soldiers and one sailor) – ahead of Canisteo (197), Cohocton (196), Addison (193), Avoca (175), Campbell (173), Bradford (125), and Cameron (96). Caton and Cameron were tied at 7% with the lowest death rates so far.

*Besides looking at total death rates, I wanted to see whether particular battles, prisons, or causes took heavy tolls… since men generally served alongside their neighbors, one fierce battle could devastate the whole community.

*Unsurprisingly the highest deaths were from illness (56) and unspecified (85). Illness was the big killer of the war, and I suspect that nearly all of the unspecified deaths are actually due to illness. A startling number died at their mustering point of Elmira, before they even left the Southern Tier. No doubt all those men packing together created problems with sewage and with drinking water. But on top of that, many men had never strayed far from their farm or their hamlet. Packed together with thousands of others, they suddenly encountered illnesses they had never faced before, reacted to them severely, and died accordingly.

*What about more direct military causes? Ten men died as prisoners – seven of them at Andersonville, whose commandant was hanged after the Civil War’s only war crimes trial. (Most of these deaths are probably from illness or starvation, rather than from direct attack by guards.)

*What about more direct battle causes? Eight were listed as killed, but without particular battles being identified, and one was described as having been killed “by guerrillas.”

*The big battles took their big tolls: four men in the disaster at Chancellorsville, three in the famous victory at Gettysburg, three in the flawed victory at Antietam… still the bloodiest day in American military history, even after the giant wars of the 20th century.

*But five died in the little-regarded Battle of Dallas… not the city in Texas but a much smaller place in Georgia… plus three at the related Battle of New Hope Church. Sherman’s army was driving on Atlanta, and from May 26 to June 8 both armies sparred and probed, each trying to dislodge or bypass the other or, in the Confederate case, trying to get away. So far, then, the Dallas/New Hope Church Battles are the largest military killers of Steuben men in the Civil War, just edging out Andersonville… but there are still 23 towns to go, including Corning and Hornellsvile, with populations to rival Bath’s. It will only get grimmer as we go.

Christmas Long Ago

Back in the 1790s, when European people were just muscling into our area in large numbers, Christmas doesn’t seem to have been a very big deal. To the extent that America had a Puritan conscience, it disdained the holiday as an unbiblical, semi-pagan Catholic superstition. (When the Puritans disliked something, they got their money’s worth out of the emotion.)

*It wasn’t until well after the Civil War that many employers in Corning started giving their workers a day off for Christmas. There’s a Hammondsport photo from around 1901, showing a full shift at the grape-packing house on December 25. A post card mailed around 1910 was postmarked in both Corning and Dundee on December 25, meaning that both offices were open and working, and someone was working to move the mail between the two communities.

*I recently had to go through the December 1872 issues of The Steuben Farmer’s Advocate, published weekly in Bath. I was researching one particular item, and so didn’t have time to really study the papers page by page, but as far as I saw, they didn’t even mention Christmas.

*Where Americans DID celebrate Christmas in the early days, it was often next thing to a riot (which is another reason that the Puritans criminalized the holiday.) In New York City gangs of youths forced their way into people’s homes, singing loudly and lewdly until bribed with enough food and drink to go on to the next house. Down south men celebrated Christmas with heavy drinking, enlivened by sneaking up on each other to shoot off firearms, with results just about as you might expect.

*Two Germans went a long way toward taming Christmas, not to mention popularizing it. Immigrant cartoonist Thomas Nast standardized the shadowy figure of Santa Claus, elaborating on his sleigh, his bag, and his vast North Pole complex, not to mention excited children and indulgent parents. (Nast’s Santa seems to rest firmly on the poem, “A Visit From Saint Nicholas.”)

*Christmas was big in Germany, and the German Prince Albert energetically brought trees and gifts and candles and other accouterments to his large brood at Buckingham Palace with the excited approval of Queen Victoria, who adored anything Albert did. Then as now London and “the royals” were style-setters in the English-speaking world, and Christmas became a fad, then a tradition.

*Nast and Albert were spreading their cheer right around the time of the American Civil War, and the new family-centered domesticated Christmas struck a chord with families sundered by the great conflict. Maryett Kelly wrote husband John in the Union army from their farm in Fremont, describing how their little son Scotty had received some candies in his stocking, along with a toy horse. John celebrated by doing absolutely nothing in camp at Savannah (which they were about to capture), and each of the men was issued a small drink of whiskey.

*By the late 1800s stores were garishly decorated and sales were abundant. In 1901 Christmas ads started running the day before Thanksgiving in the weekly Hammondsport Herald, breathlessly proclaiming how many shopping days were left. Santa Claus, one ad noted, is a common-sense old fellow, meaning that ANYTHING could be marketed as a Christmas gift – “just think of a better gift than shoes.” Or boots, or rubbers, or a cast-iron stove!

*Just before World War I Frank Burnside flew Santa Claus by biplane from Bath to Corning, where spectators lined the rooftops and crowded the landing ground in Denison Park, all courtesy of the Board of Trade. After the war, I suppose, Christmas became more the holiday that we know. Hope you enjoy it – whatever way you like!

When Johnny Came Marching Home

Thousands of Steuben men served in the Civil War, and hundreds died, leaving hundreds of widows and orphans. Sickness had taken more lives than battle causes, and official counts are low — men who were very sick or badly wounded were discharged, so they didn’t appear on official lists when they died.

While most Americans didn’t write or speak in these terms, those losses left huge gaps not only in families but in communities. Just as samples, Clayton’s 1879 History of Steuben County lists 36 Civil War dead for Avoca (some of whom starved to death as prisoners); 29 for Urbana; 17 for Caton; and 6 for Hornby.

The psychological effect of all these losses must have been crushing, especially for the military-age cohort. Down in Addison, Stephen P. Chase wrote on his return, “I feel very lonely to find so many who went into the army with me are not here. They rest in a soldier’s grave.” Chase further wrote, “I do not enjoy my mind very well” — his description of recurring deep depression. Later he commented, “I thank God I have the right use of my mind after 4 years of terrible war.”

He found relief to a certain extent by going to church and by working in the field, but there was really no help (or even terminology) for emotional and psychological problems. Spiritualism boomed as people tried to contact lost loved ones. Funerals became elaborate rituals. Sentimental songs abounded, such as “The Empty Chair” and “Faded Coat of Blue.”

Depression and “survivor’s guilt” were no doubt widespread. Those who had been in combat, and those who had been prisoners of war, were prime candidates for what we now know as Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Russell Tuttle of Hornellsville wrote years later that the cry of a whippoorwill always filled him with horror, bringing back ghastly memories of Chancellorsville — a clear P.T.S.D. trigger.

Many veterans suffered physical wounds. In Hammondsport Monroe Brundage had lost an arm at Antietam, and Hezekiah Ripley had lost a leg at Missionary Ridge. R. C. Phillips in Prattsburgh and John P. Faulkner of Dansville suffered no amputations, but each lost the use of one arm at Gettysburg. Barry Dexter of Caton was “deaf and dumb” for the rest of his life, after being caught in the blast of a bursting shell.

While many veterans couldn’t wait to get home and stay there, others found that they no longer belonged in Sonora, Buena Vista, or Coss Corners, or even in Corning, Bath, and Wayland. Some would head west, some went south to help with Reconstruction, while others gravitated to Rochester, New York, or other booming cities.

Many of the public were terrified that a million trained and experienced killers were about to be unleashed on the population. Could they settle down to civilian life? As time went on, that fear turned in some cases to loathing — they wanted BENEFITS? Only lazy parasites would behave that way.

The veterans came together in local, state, and national groups as the Grand Army of the Republic. This gave them psychological and emotional support (not that they’d have used those terms). It also educated the public about veterans’ need, and helped change the mood on benefits and support systems — the G.A.R. was a major force behind creating the New York State Soldiers and Sailors Home in Bath (now Bath V.A.).

A group of returning soldiers drank themselves drunk and rioted in Bath, hunting down and attacking African Americans, presumably under the alcoholic “reasoning” that since the war had been about the condition of African Americans, that made them responsible for the soldiers’ sufferings.

As a whole, though, the veterans as organized in the G.A.R. became increasingly angry at seeing their victories on the battlefield thrown away in peacetime. (The organization itself was one of the few groups in America to be racially integrated.) They agitated for the rights of African Americans, and fiercely opposed the Ku Klux Klan. Perhaps their last gasp as a national pressure group was in joining others against the Klan-glorifying film The Birth of a Nation. Most of the “boys in blue” were gone by the 1920s, but we imagine that those who were left were at once enraged and heartbroken as their grandchildren, here in Steuben County, joined the Ku Klux Klan in droves.

Lincoln’s Death Reached to the Finger Lakes

The death of Abraham Lincoln was a tragedy to America, and to the world, but it also brought deep suffering to our Finger Lakes region. For one thing, TWO attacks were made that night, and the second was an attack on Secretary of State William H. Seward, a resident of Auburn.

Lewis Payne (or Powell) presented himself at Seward’s house as a messenger, then bulled his way in and upstairs. Attacking with a knife he did manage to slash the bedridden Seward badly, along with two of Seward’s sons, a soldier nurse, and a servant, besides roughing up the butler and Seward’s daughter, all of whom tried to protect the injured man, before escaping into the night. Seward, who had been badly injured in a carriage accident, was supported in a heavy metal frame, which probably saved his life by deflecting some of the blows. Although badly slashed, he managed to heave himself off the bed into the space between the bed and the wall, giving himself a little prottection.

Powell/Payne finally fled, and was later executed. Seward continued in stellar service to his country, including the purchase of Alaska. But one side of his face forever sagged, thanks to the slashing he got from Lewis Paine.

The other regional connection is Major Henry Rathbone. We often hear that the major was from Steuben County, but I’m pretty sure that that’s not true. He was one of the clan for whom the Town of Rathbone was named, but I’m not sure how close.

Hardly ANYONE, including their own son, seemed to want to go to the play with the Lincolns. They finally settled on Major Rathbone, who agreed to bring his fiancee Clara Harris.

When John Wilkes Booth crept into the presidential box Mary Lincoln was teasing Abe about holding her hand: “What will Miss Harris think?” Lincoln replied, “She won’t think anything of it” — the last words he ever spoke.

Booth, who was well familiar with the play, waited for a burst of laughter and used those laughs to cover the sound of his shot as he fired one bullet into the back of Abraham Lincoln’s head. While the audience missed the sound of the shot, experienced soldier Major Rathbone did not. He instantly sprang upon Booth, who dropped his single-shot Deringer and slashed Rathbone with his large knife, cutting to the bone from shoulder to elbow.

This got him free long enough to rush to the front of the box, where Rathbone grabbed him again. This, plus catching his spur on some bunting, apparently threw Booth off enough that he landed badly — it was something like a 12-foot drop to the stage — and broke his leg. Rathbone shouted to stop the man, and a soldier in the audience vaulted across the orchestra pit and set out in pursuit. Booth, however, made it to the alleyway and his waiting horse, then fled the city before word got out.

A doctor was lifted up from the audience while others pounded on the door that Booth had barred, which the profusely-bleeding Major Rathbone opened. Lincoln was carried out of the box and down the stairs to a house across the street. Here, as Miss Harris tried to comfort the justifiably hysterical Mrs. Lincoln, Major Rathbone finally passed out from loss of blood, and doctors recognized for the first time how gravely wounded he was.

Sadly, that was not the end of the tragedy. Clara Harris and Henry Rathbone, who were stepbrother and stepsister, married in 1867, after an eight-year engagement. He became consumed… unjustly and unrealistically… by his perception that he had failed to protect the president, and Lincoln had died because of his failure. But that had not been his assignment, and short of pre-emptively shooting anyone who walked through the door, it’s hard to see how he could have prevented it. His actions were heroic — instantly and bare-handedly springing upon a killer with a gun, and continuing the fight after being gravely wounded.

But none of those facts mattered. Two days before Christmas in 1883, while serving as U.S. consul in Hanover, Germany, he attacked his three children. When Clara Harris Rathbone rushed to their defense, he killed her with a knife and a hand gun… the same types of weapons John Wilkes Booth had used. He stabbed himself repeatedly but was taken into custody and died in 1911 in a German mental institution. He was buried with his wife, and their remains were disposed of in 1952. Their son, 13 years old at the time of the killing, was later elected to Congress from Illinois.

Perhaps there were other forces at work – Rathbone had fought through the Civil War, including what is STILL the bloodiest day in American history, at Antietam – so maybe PTSD was already eating away at his soul on that night. At any rate, Booth’s ghastly plot had a very long reach.

Trash-Talking Lincoln in the 1860s

On Friday I’m wrapping up Steuben County Historical Society’s Civil War sesquicentennial series with a presentation on the end of the war, and the death of Lincoln, so I hope you’ll join us. But in the process of doing that research, I found out quite a lot about local OPPOSITION to Lincoln during the war.

We think of our region as being rock-ribbed Republican and dedicated to the abolition of slavery, but that’s wishful thinking. While overall people in the Finger Lakes and Southern Tier supported Lincoln, there was also strong, and even hateful, opposition against him. And the region as a whole was very iffy on abolition.

Newspapers tended to be political party mouthpieces in those days, and the Steuben County seat of Bath had two… the “Courier” for Republicans, and the “Farmer’s Advocate” for Democrats.

The “Advocate” was in something of a bind, wanting to support the war without supporting the president – “Fight against Davis, argue against Lincoln.” They steered a masterly path of applauding Union victories while sneering that the administration had nothing to do with them – our brave soldiers won the fight despite Lincoln’s incompetence.

If Union troops lost, of course that was all Lincoln’s fault. Disastrous defeat at Fredericksburg was a “bloodthirsty atrocity of the radicals” – radicals being those Republicans who, UNlike Lincoln, were strongly committed to abolishing slavery, and doing it fast.

To give them their due, the editors published presidential proclamations in full, even if criticizing them fiercely in other columns. They also insisted that the highly unpopular draft law had been passed in the regular manner, and must be obeyed until and unless set aside by the courts. On July 1, 1863, with Confederate forces rampaging deep into Pennsylvania, “Advocate” editors announced that at the government’s request they were joining a general withholding of information on Union troop movements.

They did tend to overoptimistically view the south’s military condition, reporting in 1862 on the effectiveness of the Confederate draft, the huge size of the Confederate army, and the good provisioning of that army. Not one word of this was true. On July 1, 1863, they proclaimed “Vicksburg is impregnable” and it did in fact manage to hold out for three more days.

In one bizarre 1862 passage they supposedly report rebel prisoners as stating that if the states had been given permission to leave the Union the previous year, they would already have rejoined the Union. The supposed process seems to be (1) the southern states were not even thinking about seceding. (2) But the northern states, apparently out of the blue, told them they couldn’t. (3) So they did. (4) If no one had fussed, they then would have immediately joined back up. This, of course, is gibberish of the type you could ONLY find in an official party paper.

They also mocked Lincoln constantly… his having a bodyguard of troops, which no other president had had; his accent and ruralisms; his looks; his nickname of “Honest” Abe. For good measure they scorned his wife, sneering whenever one of her family members was killed fighting for the south.

And, they stressed that Lincoln’s actions, especially the Emancipation Proclamation, would make it impossible to restore “the Union as it was,” slavery and all. They didn’t face the fact that the south had HAD the Union as it was, and left it.

Unsurprisingly, much of their opposition was racist. They attack African Americans in the foulest and vilest terms – not for them the genteel circumlocutions that ooze from our TV today. In some of their mildest attacks:
“The relation of master and slave is a proper relationship.”
“When the Abolitionists began their crusade against he South, there lived 4,000,000 of as contented, well fed, well clad and well to do peasantry as ever lived on the face of the earth.”
“This war is to ripen into the horrible scenes of St. Domingo.”

To call slaves a contented, well-to-do peasantry is staggering chutzpah.

They seem to think that worst insult they can employ against Republican leaders and supporters is to call them black, which they do frequently, adding that the Republican plan is to bring white working men down to the level of the Negro.

Despite charges that Lincoln is a despot, a tyrant, a dictator, such papers abounded… I understand the one in Penn Yan was also vitriolic. Erastus Corning was a public and prominent Lincoln critic. A regular Congressional election took place in 1862, and Lincoln’s party lost ground, while still retaining control. Despite the best (or worst) efforts on the part of the “Advocate,” Steuben County increased its Republican vote in 1863.

Lincoln also beat off challengers from within his own party in 1864, and then won re-election against a popular general. But a month and ten days into his second term, a southern fanatic murdered him. That’s what we’ll be talking about 4 PM Friday, September 11 at Bath Fire Hall. Hope to see you there.

Three Ordinary Lifetimes: Indians, Irish, Mexicans, and Slaves

Let’s imagine – a person celebrating his or her 75th birthday today, as you read this. That person would have been born in 1940, during Franklin Roosevelt’s second term of office.
Then imagine a person celebrating his or her 75th birthday on THAT day. THAT person would have been born in 1865, near the end of Lincoln’s first term. So two ordinary lifetimes would take us back to the Civil War.
Ah, but then imagine a THIRD person, having his or her 75th birthday on that day in 1865. That THIRD person would have been born in 1790, during George Washington’s first full year of office.
Three ordinary lifetimes comprise nearly the entire history of our country and its Constitution. But what happened during each of those 75-year spans – locally, and nationwide?
To start with our 1790 person… new states began to be admitted almost immediately, added to the original 13. A series of harsh treaties stole the land of the Iroquois. Charles Williamson and his party poled, rowed, or paddled up the river to found Bath, then start developing the region. Our Finger Lakes counties were erected during this time, starting with Ontario, then going on to Steuben in 1796, then a string of others finishing with Schuyler in 1856.
George Washington freed his slaves – numbering hundreds – in his will. That Constitutional abortion, the electoral college, caused a crisis in our fourth presidential elections, forcing the House of Representatives to choose between Adams and Jefferson.
The War of 1812 took hundreds of local men to (and even over) the Niagara Frontier. Ira Davenport, John Magee, John Kennedy and George McClure were all veterans. Then the electoral college screwed us up again, seating John Quincy Adams insead of Andrew Jackson, who actually won the votes.
Saddlebag preachers like Daniel Averitt (Presbyterian), James Brownson, and Moses Rowley (Baptist) scattered new churches across our region.
The fourth of July in 1827 marked a signal change. For the first time in two centuries, there were no slaves in the state of New York.
Arks and rafts floated down the rivers, carrying produce to Baltimore. The Erie Canal opened in 1825, yanking traffic away from the Southern Tier. By 1830 or so, steamboats started paddling the Finger Lakes. In 1851, the Erie Railroad brought lost traffic back. Along with the railroad came the telegraph.
During the Potato Famine a wave of Irish immigration (both nationally and locally) sparked rage against Catholics, a force that coalesced into the new American Party, or Know-Nothings.
Down in Virginia, Nat Turner raised his doomed (and excessively murderous) rebellion. Out west we picked a fight and launched the Mexican War, stealing almost half of that country. Ulysses S. Grant, who fought in the war, said it was the worst crime ever perpetrated by a strong country upon a weak one.
All of the towns in Steuben County were created during this period. Towns like Penn Yan, Prattsburgh, Bath, and Hammondsport created academies – what we would call high schools. Elsewhere kids went to one-room schools – 400 of them in Steuben County alone.
The vast forest that covered western New York all but disappeared. The wood went for construction and fuel, the land went for farming or grazing. Grape culture and winemaking began to appear along the lakes. Grapes were said to be the only thing that Pulteney folks had ever discovered that would justify the taxes on their land.
John Jones in Elmira, William Seward in Auburn, and Frederick Douglass in Rochester were among the thousands who clandestinely and illegally operated the Underground Railroad. Blood ran red in Kansas and at Harpers Ferry – even as it had already done, for 250 years, under the lash. Lincoln was elected with a pledge not to interfere with slavery in the states. Southern leaders lied to their people, said he was plotting a race war, and spurred many of their people into rebellion.
Thousands went to war from our region, and hundreds died. But that radical new government created the Homestead Act, the land-grant college system, absentee voting, income tax, the draft, and home delivery of the mail (in cities). Lincoln issued the Emancipation Proclamation, and delivered the Gettysburg Address.
As we finished up our first 75-year span, well over half a million men were already dead. Grant’s army (including many local men) was besieging Petersburg, the key to Richmond. Sherman’s army (including many local men) had marched from Atlanta to the sea. Now they kicked off northward, pushing Joe Johnston’s troops before them. The end was in sight, but there was still a lot of dieing to go.