An Irregular Childhood

Missouri is famous for its teenaged bushwhackers, but this article reminds us that it didn’t hold a monopoly.  Virginia’s John McCue joined Mosby’s Irregulars, and had quite an eventful year of service, by the sounds of it.

His father, Judge John H. McCue, compromised with the boy and allowed him to “learn soldiering” at Virginia Military Institute. And so, young McCue went to VMI where he watched one class after another leave to join the Confederate army. In May 1864, all but 11 cadets marched off to New Market to fight an invading Union force.

Fifteen-year-old John W. McCue was one of the 11, left behind because of his small size.

He couldn’t stand it any more. McCue ran away from VMI and, a few weeks later, turned up in the camp of another man who was of small stature but enormous reputation — John S. Mosby. “The Gray Ghost” and his men were impressed with McCue’s fighting spirit and readily accepted him into their ranks.

via Youthful Staunton Civil War firebrand wrote of capture | The News Leader | newsleader.com.

Lincoln’s Waterways

I’m trying and failing to turn a pithy river course/course of his life phrase, here. Maybe this blog has a future as a kind of New Yorker Cartoon Caption Contest?

I wish I’d been in the audience for this presentation on Lincoln’s relationship with rivers. I’m a sucker for unusual essay themes and anecdotes of small incidents that have big consequences.

Lincoln discovered that a river that contained plenty of fish in the warm months presented danger in the winter.

He recalled that during his first winter in Macon County he stepped through the ice, suffered frostbitten feet and spent a couple of weeks recuperating in Sheriff Warnick’s home. He took advantage of his misfortune by reading law books found in the sheriff’s home.

I also adored this throwaway last paragraph:

Green said he and his wife, Barbara, attended the opening of the Abraham Lincoln Presidential Library and Museum in 2005 in Springfield, which featured about 100 Lincoln look-alikes. A memorable moment of that affair was when the ceremony ended and everyone went outside.

“All of the Lincolns were talking on their cellphones,” Green said.

http://www.carmitimes.com/topstories/x1341772232/Museum-shows-rivers-impact-on-Lincoln?zc_p=1

Family Trees

Despite my posting this on April Fool’s Day (a “holiday” which I loathe) it’s entirely true:

Given how apoplectic J.C. was at the surrender negotiations, at the impropriety of Sherman’s offering only one glass of whiskey, we can only imagine how he’d react to his cross-dressing, sex-change-seeking, terrible actor of a great-grandson.

Bunny was immortalised (or at least had his infamy renewed) by Bill Murray in Tim Burton’s Ed Wood biopic.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bunny_Breckinridge

“Poor Bill Christian”

A strict disciplinarian who served during the Mexican-American War and as drillmaster for the Utica, New York, city militia, William Henry Christian certainly had the credentials of an officer. A surveyor and engineer by trade, Christian sought to make his mark in the military and got off to a promising start. As events proved, however, Christian was never cut out for battlefield command. As colonel of the 26th New York Infantry, he stayed out of the action at Second Bull Run, claiming illness. Then as a brigade commander at the battle of Antietam, he became unnerved and fled in the face of the enemy. He grew increasingly despondent afterwards and ultimately slipped into a state of insanity, dying an inmate of a New York asylum. His story is truly a sad one.

A sad tale indeed. Shell shock, or soldier’s heart, as it was known in that war, must have affected far more men that we ever got to hear about.  Sherman’s depression seems negligible compared to Christian’s meltdown.

via The 48th Pennsylvania Infantry. . .: Poor Bill Christian. . ..

Counter-feat

The New York Times’ “Disunion” feature keeps presenting essays on topics I considered for my podcast!  Luckily (unluckily?) I couldn’t find a gap for the story of this master counterfeiter, whose story is notable. (Ahem, little money-printing joke, there…)

Upham didn’t look like a counterfeiter. He didn’t hide out in the woods or perform daring jailbreaks. He didn’t run from the police. He was a respectable small-business owner and devoted Northern patriot. He ran a store that sold stationery, newspapers and cosmetics. But he was also an entrepreneur with an eye for easy profit, and the Civil War offered the business opportunity of a lifetime: the ability to forge money without breaking the law. Confederate currency, issued by a government that was emphatically not recognized by the Union, had no legal status in the North, which meant Upham could sell his “fac-similes” with impunity.

Over the next 18 months he built the most notorious counterfeiting enterprise of the Civil War — one that also happened to be perfectly legal. His forgeries flooded the South, undermining the value of the Confederate dollar and provoking enraged responses from Southern leaders. He waged war on the enemy’s currency, serving his pocketbook and his country at the same time.

via A Counterfeiting Conspiracy? – NYTimes.com.

Class of 1846

In researching one of my Podcast topics, I was directed to The Class of 1846, by John C. Waugh, for a quote I needed to verify. As expected, our fabulous library system quickly delivered me a copy. I got the quote I needed, but a quick flip-through reveals a well-written, charming series of vignettes for some of the war’s most famous figures. (Most famous but not best-loved – this was the class of McClellan and Stonewall, remember.)

Sadly, I got caught up with Sam Watkins instead, and my hold is about to expire. I’ve added it to my wish list, though – my library doesn’t feel complete without it.

Alexander Gardner

The Washington Post and the New York Times are doing some excellent work, commemorating the sesquicentennial with regular blog updates and articles. (Particularly the WaPo, which – unlike the Times – makes these available for free.) I’m trying not to piggyback too much on their reportage, but this piece on Alexander Gardner is a great introduction to (arguably) the war’s greatest photographer.

In 1869, Gardner asked Congress to purchase his photographs, describing them as national treasures, according to Katz’s history. Congress was not interested.

When Gardner died 13 years later, his estate consisted of, among other things, books, and furniture, but, apparently, no photographic material.

Some of his priceless negatives may have been sold as scrap glass, according to Katz’s study. Many were acquired by collectors, and in 1884 again offered for sale to the government. The government still was not interested.

When the 1893 cache was discovered, a Post reporter visited Gardner’s son, Lawrence, a Washington insurance executive, who said the old negatives were probably his father’s.

After that, their fate is uncertain…

The Smithsonian said it has a few photos — apparently Gardner’s — for which there is no provenance.

And William Stapp, former curator of photographs at the National Portrait Gallery, said some Gardner negatives have “just vanished.”

I hope against hope that someone has boxes upon boxes of glass plate negatives stashed away, unknowingly, in an attic or storeroom. The Ken Burns series related the fact that most photographers went broke after the war, and sold their negatives to gardeners for use in greenhouses. It’s depressing to imagine how many striking or important images of the war were lost to ultraviolet rays and humidity.

Oh, and kudos to the writer (or webmaster) of this piece for including hyperlinks to each photo referenced. The only disappointment is that they didn’t link to full-size photos; there’s no zoom function to see details such as these:

Off to the side, one young soldier stares back at the camera with a look of anguish in his eyes.

http://www.washingtonpost.com/local/alexander-gardner-the-mysteries-of-the-civil-wars-photographic-giant/2011/12/12/gIQAptHhDP_print.html

Perret on Grant

Thanks to Google’s Books service, I went from a quick consultation of this book to reading a good portion of it online. The first few chapters are available in their entirety – as the book progresses more and more are left out, but it’s enough to gauge the readability, and this one’s very readable. Like Grant himself, it’s workmanlike – not a lot of literary flourishes, here – but genial. Several reviewers ravaged it with one stars, complaining of off-by-a-day dates or lack of tactical military understanding, but I can excuse the former if they’re minor, and the latter usually bores me to tears. My historical preference is for biography, and Grant comes back to life through the anecdotes and quotes Geoffrey Perret provides. If you’re a Grant fan, pick this one up.

John B. Gordon

This is the birthday of Georgia General John B. Gordon. This newspaper’s tribute to him is uncomfortably pro-Southern, but relates some of the man’s best anecdotes. Though his memoirs aren’t always to be trusted (see the Gordon-Barlow Incident), he did have some excellent stories to tell/embellish.

September 17, 1862, is known was the bloodiest day in American history. Confederate General Gordon was there, defending a position called the sunken road. Wave upon wave of Union troops attacked Gordon’s men. The casualties were beyond today’s understanding. Gordon was struck by Yankee bullets four times, but continued to lead his men. Then, a fifth bullet tore through his right jaw and out of his left cheek. He fell with his face in his hat and would have drowned in his own blood except for a hole in his hat. Though Gordon survived these wounds, the last one left him permanently scarred. That is why in later photographs of him you see him only from the right side.

http://www.huntingtonnews.net/20515

The Great Escape of Judah Benjamin

Noting this was a small press story, I wasn’t prepared for a deep, detailed narrative of the flight of Confederate cabinet member Judah P. Benjamin. Well done, New Port Richey Patch!

And, while Judah was well-liked, he was very reserved when it came to both his private and professional matters, perhaps a trait that Confederate President Jeff Davis liked.

Among his golden rule was to destroy any and all correspondence or anything that might aid or enlighten a person who shouldn’t be enlightened.

In April 1883 Benjamin wrote,

“I have never kept a diary or retained any copy of a letter written by me. No letters addressed to me by others will be found among my papers when I die. With perhaps the exception of Mrs. Jefferson Davis, no one has many letters of mine; for I have read so many American biographies which reflected only the passions and prejudices of their writers, [for] that I do not want to leave behind my letters and documents to be used in such a work about myself”

Benjamin’s position was no more evident then when the Confederate capital fell in Richmond and when his last days there were spent burning the secret service papers of the Confederacy.

But, it was after Richmond’s demise where our story begins.

http://newportrichey.patch.com/articles/the-great-escape-judah-p-benjamin