tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-41584063460379643762024-03-09T18:45:43.140-08:00MemoriesandMiscellanyA Blog About More Things Than You Can Shake a Stick AtJack Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01499431800088809848noreply@blogger.comBlogger336125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4158406346037964376.post-6738538648984568082021-12-29T08:00:00.001-08:002021-12-29T08:03:13.220-08:00 Hail and Farewell!<p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjY6NPnLJ5XHE2OaivVFDHWSZmDBZkvZ9gHgZK3atOGFAwzT5rBz7DGd7UeEfJacBxoQIelBIAiSYJ5Smc3FwW_LIhZCXDCloCXcKQpVGLrrN7BDkckD-84XFmgK6gdrcFvpyK7LVLGzXPMx4_SJl4wezkGmhAqYmfIJivre4m0Ys7s0-QnFQs65qIs=s276" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="264" data-original-width="276" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjY6NPnLJ5XHE2OaivVFDHWSZmDBZkvZ9gHgZK3atOGFAwzT5rBz7DGd7UeEfJacBxoQIelBIAiSYJ5Smc3FwW_LIhZCXDCloCXcKQpVGLrrN7BDkckD-84XFmgK6gdrcFvpyK7LVLGzXPMx4_SJl4wezkGmhAqYmfIJivre4m0Ys7s0-QnFQs65qIs=w200-h191" width="200" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p>
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</span><p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">As the second COVID year, 2021, ends, so is this blog.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">Having reached the advanced age of 86 and, more important, run out of appropriate topics about which to write, I am concluding any further contributions to this website. </span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span></span></p>
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<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The site was initiated in April 2009 when I was introduced to and fascinated by the Internet possibilities.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Christened <i>“Bottles, Booze, and Back Stories,” </i>the blog initially was aimed primarily at collectors of antique ceramics, glass and other antiquarian artifacts, although a wide range of subjects was explored.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Several years ago the name was changed to <i>“Memories and Miscellany”</i> to reflect a growing emphasis on personal memories and family history.</span></span></p>
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<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Over the dozen years of its existence the site has featured 335 posts and as of today attracted 586,889 look-in “hits” from all around the world.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It has also received 327 comments, most of them gratifying or helpful.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>My number of followers has been low, as expected given the eclectic subject matter.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Only nine signed up and the majority of them were relatives.</span></span></p>
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<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">From what I am told, the blog will continue to be available on the internet for an extended period of time, allowing the interested to access it through topic “labels.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I will continue to post on my other website, devoted to the stories of<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>individuals involved in the American liquor industry prior to National Prohibition in 1920. Called <i>“Pre-Prohibition Whiskey Men,”</i><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>the site has been popular, attracting 1.2 milllion “hits” and 346 followers during its ten years of existence.</span></span></p>
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<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Looking back on my experience with the blog now concluding, it primarily seems to have been a convenient vehicle to express a wide range of interests in a way that would attract others of similar interests, as well as a means to preserve other writings not previously available online. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>For anyone looking in during coming days, my hope is that you will find the material worth your time.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Jack Sullivan</span></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span class="s2"></span><br /></p>Jack Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01499431800088809848noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4158406346037964376.post-47190278480551372292021-12-04T05:36:00.001-08:002021-12-04T05:38:09.319-08:00German Ancestors: Part 2: The Lays of the Land
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<p class="p1"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi-YFVSpn9yaRg_cQPFupwZIh9X-3TWDH-evvRmRAu28UyEGVGTHFvT5WMuAttLWsW2SBqMGF-rNAAIbaPFNjzwWP1dTPicMo1YhSfsy-n6YD3H5FSlckyflz2MQWSi7avrMJ-zpxfxbpV--EM9CWODs6P759Cuxi53ygUDWrfxQREDve9hmtq2i_KU=s2048" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1453" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi-YFVSpn9yaRg_cQPFupwZIh9X-3TWDH-evvRmRAu28UyEGVGTHFvT5WMuAttLWsW2SBqMGF-rNAAIbaPFNjzwWP1dTPicMo1YhSfsy-n6YD3H5FSlckyflz2MQWSi7avrMJ-zpxfxbpV--EM9CWODs6P759Cuxi53ygUDWrfxQREDve9hmtq2i_KU=s320" width="227" /></a><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>At this point we return to Germany,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>to a very small town in Baden-</span></span><span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">Wurtemberg, not far from Heilbron, called Berg. </span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">There in 1888 a 14-year-old boy was working as a farm laborer for his mother and neighbors to put by enough money for his passage to America. </span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">His name was Heinrich Adam Lay (in German pronounced “Lie”).</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">Later Americanized as Henry and called “Pop” by his children,</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">he already had farmer brothers in the U.S.,</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">living in Illinois near Peoria. </span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">They were among the children of Friedrich Lay,</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">a farmer, born in 1836 in Kreuzle, Germany.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">Friedrich was the son of Johann Christian Lay of Kreuzle and Rosine Schmidgall,</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">all of this known through rigorously-kept lists in German in the Lay family Lutheran Bible. </span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span></p>
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<p class="p1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>Friedrich married twice.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In 1863,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>he wed Jakobine Sinn who bore him two children before dying in childbirth. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In 1869 he married Barbara Waldbusser,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>our great great-grandmother, born in 1842. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>She was the daughter of Friedrich Waldbusser and Katharine Schluchter and apparently a cousin of Jakobine .<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>She bore Friedrich Lay 17 children,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>of whom only six would live beyond infancy.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Of those,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Henry was the second son,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>born in September, 1874. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He would remember his mother fondly as a warm and caring person.</span></span></p>
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<p class="p1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>Henry was only 10 years old when his father suffered a fatal injury. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Friedrich was driving a team of oxen and a wagon over a wooden bridge when it partially collapsed under the weight. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He was thrown under the wagon and suffered a wound to his arm. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The wound became infected with tetanus,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>he developed lock-jaw and died.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The year was 1886 and Friedrich was only 48. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Barbara never remarried.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>She and the children did the farm work,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Henry recalled,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>even though she insisted the youngsters all stay in school.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Like many German communities,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>the farmers lived in villages on the hilltops and went out by day to their fields on the slopes and in the valleys.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Henry would remember the rigors of the climb and much prefer the flat land of the American Midwest. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>A 2003 visit to Berg, which means “mountain” in German,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>confirmed that the town,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>though small, still exists at the top of several hills, but by no stretch mountains, with fields spread out all around. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Even by German standards it is a small village.</span></span></p>
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<p class="p2"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;">Shipwrecked and a Job</span></span></p>
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<p class="p1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"> <span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span></span>Family members believe it was Barbara who urged her son to emigrate to the United States. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The specter of conscription into the Prussian military was an ever present threat for all young German males. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Whatever the reason,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>in 1888 the very young Henry Lay left for the United States on a sailing vessel out of Antwerp, Belgium. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He came alone as a third-class passenger in the lower parts of the ship where he saw rats mingle freely with the paying customers.</span></span></p>
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<p class="p1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>As the ship neared the U.S. coastline,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>it struck a fishing boat. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Panic ensued as water began pour into the hold. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The crew was uncertain how long the ship would stay up.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>A<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>S.O.S. failed to rouse any immediate response and it was two days before help came.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It must have been a very anxious wait.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>During this emergency, however, Henry was fascinated by the crew of the fishing boat who were taken aboard the larger ship.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>They were of African descent and Henry never before had seen dark-skinned people.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Years later in a newspaper interview he said that the novelty helped him forget the danger. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></p>
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<p class="p1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>Following the rescue of the passengers by another ship,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Henry landed in New York Harbor,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>passed by the Statue of Liberty which had been dedicated only two years earlier,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>and was processed through Ellis Island. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He was greeted in New York City by German friends of his older half-brother,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>George, who already was farming in Illinois. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Because Henry could not speak a word of English at that point, those friends accompanied Henry on the train as far as Peoria. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>George met him there with a horse and buggy and the brothers rode to Tremont,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>a few miles south. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>George arranged for Henry to work there as a “chore boy” for a well-off farmer named John Buckley.</span></span></p>
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<p class="p1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>Henry liked Buckley and his wife very much. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>They allowed him to go to school, helped him learn to read and write English, and treated him like one of the family.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>They also provided comfortable surroundings in a spacious farm dwelling.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In return his job was to feed the livestock. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Buckley owned several farms;<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>sheep were kept at one site and horses at another.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Henry’s chore was filling large sacks with corn and grain and carry it on horseback from place to place regardless of the weather. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It was heavy work and he was not a big man but he managed.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He never forgot the kindness of the Buckleys.</span></span></p>
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<p class="p1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;">Enter Pauline Reger</span></span></p>
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<p class="p1"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgBa3xRnAghUbVyd4GlUf-tjg3IzWN3UAVhjDENWhweGb87WN_1ZqrPtdNkaU1Co9fB68thGTapHzQBO8CKhsnT8n8mH_vXklQFhkcpln-bn6rw-jtQGgMjyMGstXF31Qu-BluJevqusgKpw2WwBc65I2Pc2w8jx1i0HP6X1DqD3TfWCkNLVz3Ea0Jf=s1354" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1354" data-original-width="1114" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgBa3xRnAghUbVyd4GlUf-tjg3IzWN3UAVhjDENWhweGb87WN_1ZqrPtdNkaU1Co9fB68thGTapHzQBO8CKhsnT8n8mH_vXklQFhkcpln-bn6rw-jtQGgMjyMGstXF31Qu-BluJevqusgKpw2WwBc65I2Pc2w8jx1i0HP6X1DqD3TfWCkNLVz3Ea0Jf=w164-h200" width="164" /></a><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>For seven years Henry Lay toiled as a farm laborer before returning to Germany in 1895 when he was 21 to visit his mother.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>During this visit,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>through a neighbor,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>he met Pauline Reger,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>our Great Grandmother,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>born in 1876 at Adolzfurt,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>a larger town not far from Berg. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>She was the daughter of Carl Christian Reger of Adolzfurt (1839-1918),<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>a farmer and<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Lutheran evangelist.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Carl’s parents are recorded as Jacob Joseph Reger (1807-1887)<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>and Maria Grasser (1815-1880), both of Adolzfurt.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Pauline’s mother was Rosine Pfisterer (1850-1918).<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Rosine’s parents are recorded as Georg Michael Pfisterer (1802-1857) of Weisslensburg,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>and Rosine Christine Kramer (1821-1878),<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>originally of Schwollbronn. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The Regers can be traced back several further generations,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>most of them farmers from Adolzfurt and surrounding towns.<span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span></span></span></p>
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<p class="p1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>Whether Pauline had “set her cap” for Henry at that point is unclear.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>She organized four of her friends to accompany her and Henry back to America. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>She and the others came as bonded servants,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>bound for a certain period of time to the family that paid for their passage,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>and provided with room, board and a small amount of spending money.</span></span></p>
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<p class="p1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>The trip back was made by steamer, not sail, and in second class quarters.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Despite better accommodation, the trip provide a trial for Henry.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>By his account the five girls were hard to keep track of and kept getting lost on the large ship. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In New York his problems multiplied as the they agitated to be allowed to see the sights of the big city.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Even on the train trip to Peoria,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Henry worried that one or more might get off to look around and be left behind.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It must have been with a<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>deep sense of relief then that the group reached Peoria and most of the girls went on to prearranged jobs in the Chicago area.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Henry took Pauline to Tremont where she found employment as a housemaid until the couple were married in March 1896.</span></span></p>
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<p class="p1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>In a strange land and not speaking English very well Pauline was homesick for Germany.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The Regers in Germany persuaded her sister,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Karoline,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>to emigrate and keep her company. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Karoline arrived and also was employed as a housemaid,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>both in Peoria and the Chicago area.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>With the presence of her sister Pauline settled into her role as wife and, soon, mother. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></p>
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<p class="p1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>After their marriage Henry and Pauline lived on a farm owned by a man named Leonard, near Tremont.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>There their first four children -- Carrie,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Minnie, Clara and Henry -- were born <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>They were followed by two others,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>our Grandmother, Emma Margaret Lay, born in Deer Creek, Ill. in 1907, and a younger sister, Alice.</span></span></p>
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<p class="p1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;">Back East to Ohio</span></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p1"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEim4V1bQN2rdkgEnKLPk1ewbIbJQPl9Ao1Zh4Q4hptDE-q7R1jIVBPoQdNLffMOlbY3iOjWN16tlYmCLtvmUUf0zZ0QvwJYajDAJzoUFRTo2QIcLE7bonAcIciXhw-W7R29_t1LeYs-avo9HNZvyEXRifUMdX8aj9Mx67vZNBCPGYNGBtax9doQAY4o=s300" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="300" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEim4V1bQN2rdkgEnKLPk1ewbIbJQPl9Ao1Zh4Q4hptDE-q7R1jIVBPoQdNLffMOlbY3iOjWN16tlYmCLtvmUUf0zZ0QvwJYajDAJzoUFRTo2QIcLE7bonAcIciXhw-W7R29_t1LeYs-avo9HNZvyEXRifUMdX8aj9Mx67vZNBCPGYNGBtax9doQAY4o=w200-h200" width="200" /></a><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>The Lay family story might have played out in Illinois except for a </span></span><span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">disparity in land values.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">Prices had skyrocketed in Illinois to more than $300 per acre but Henry Lay found that Ohio farm land was being offered for considerably less.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">So ignoring the national mantra to “go West” the family looked eastward. </span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">In 1908 Henry bought an 80-acre farm in Paulding Country near a hamlet called Haviland,</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">100 miles south of Toledo and not far from the Indiana line. </span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">The price was $115 an acre,</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">for a total cost of $9,200.</span></p><p class="p1"><span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"><br /></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiciG-8G17fQM7Sqw3XESbFAcbfnPlHrugt-EWuZAgapmT5J8qGUeyfxWLu5wgL6-lkXoI2eu7-bJrbsGLKzOP9gDTvMlkKyZujECMHicVlHqD718em1ct3xqmMDE1fIIm29JYueciaPjhv-TUXUnMhVB8u8Flc74GBXjs1l0674NFpwKuo0HbbT5by=s540" style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="287" data-original-width="540" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiciG-8G17fQM7Sqw3XESbFAcbfnPlHrugt-EWuZAgapmT5J8qGUeyfxWLu5wgL6-lkXoI2eu7-bJrbsGLKzOP9gDTvMlkKyZujECMHicVlHqD718em1ct3xqmMDE1fIIm29JYueciaPjhv-TUXUnMhVB8u8Flc74GBXjs1l0674NFpwKuo0HbbT5by=w400-h213" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Haviland, Ohio</td></tr></tbody></table><p class="p1"></p>
<p class="p2"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>A word should be said about Paulding County,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>which looms large in our family story:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Named for John Paulding,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>one of the captors of Major Andre,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>a British spy and co-conspirator of Benedict Arnold,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>the county was created in 1820 from land ceded to the white men by the Indians in the Treaty of 1818.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It was settled very late because much of the region was marshy and plagued with malaria.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Described as “low, wet, swampy, and heavily timbered,” even as late as the 1880s,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Paulding County changed radically when a barrel-making industry grew up. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Trees were harvested to make hoops and stays, and the subsequently vacant land was turned to crops.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>Farming, however, was problematic because of the presence of highly unusual, widespread deposits of red clay.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Formed over millennia from oxide bearing rocks and more usually found in tropical climes, this soil is known by agronomists worldwide as “Paulding laterite.” The land is not easily farmed,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>being rubbery when wet and rock hard when dry, which may offer a clue about why Henry Lay received an affordable price on the land.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEheRW7cFNs5sj8FTpIg8Ov_lSGGivePjZsgBpTuMQ2bk_KilRye7u1JfBj0b2i2ItwOxlh-SiWU20G482Njw_nufzUatxHUCHF-nzMoAllbQbdSJpSmp8RlSX0UElOcfZI_8L4jBoVDrqXoUF0nCHvp7_HfnCa2qQJ94P1BJfcqcNbS2S3hdDXPnaPt=s458" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="255" data-original-width="458" height="111" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEheRW7cFNs5sj8FTpIg8Ov_lSGGivePjZsgBpTuMQ2bk_KilRye7u1JfBj0b2i2ItwOxlh-SiWU20G482Njw_nufzUatxHUCHF-nzMoAllbQbdSJpSmp8RlSX0UElOcfZI_8L4jBoVDrqXoUF0nCHvp7_HfnCa2qQJ94P1BJfcqcNbS2S3hdDXPnaPt=w200-h111" width="200" /></a></span></span></p><p class="p1"></p>
<p class="p2"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>One of Henry and Pauline’s daughters,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Carrie,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>later remembered the train trip from Illinois to Ohio with the family,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>including toddler Emma.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Carrie was unimpressed with the sight of her new home and surroundings.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Why had their father brought them to this place? <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The family provisions,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>including their furniture,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>a team of horses, a cow and a dog,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>were loaded into a boxcar and arrived a week later in Haviland,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>that had a rail spur.</span></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>The new home for the Lay family had a log barn and a farm house that was an ell-shaped,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>seven-room white frame dwelling.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It must have seemed like a dream come true for Henry and Pauline. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The family had a foothold on the American dream: <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>They were on the way to owning their own land and there was free public education in the form of a one-room school in Haviland. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In good weather the children walked to school;<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>in bad, “Pop” would hitch up the horse and take them in the family cab buggy.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Education always was given strong emphasis in the Lay family.</span></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;">Death of a Mother -- and After</span></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>On August 19, 1912 -- some four years after the move to Ohio -- tragedy struck the Lays. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Mother Pauline, only 36 years and five months old,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>died. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>She had had gall bladder attack and the protocol of the time was to operate. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The procedure took place on the kitchen table. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>As so often in that time,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>the patient succumbed. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We have a copy of a memorial card that was issued for Pauline’s death.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It contains this verse:</span></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p3"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>We have lost our darling mother,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></p>
<p class="p3"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>She has bid us all adieu,</span></span></p>
<p class="p3"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>She had gone to live in heaven,</span></span></p>
<p class="p3"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>And her form is lost to view,</span></span></p>
<p class="p3"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Oh, that dear one, how we loved her,</span></span></p>
<p class="p3"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Oh, how hard to give her up,</span></span></p>
<p class="p3"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> But an angel came down for her,</span></span></p>
<p class="p3"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>And removed her from our flock.</span></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>The verse fails utterly to reflect the trauma of Pauline’s death on the family.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The oldest of six children was 14,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Emma was five, and Alice was still a baby <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Henry Lay, consumed with the backbreaking work of the farm,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>had a desperate need for someone to run his household and look after the youngsters.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It was agreed that Pauline’s sister, Karoline, would come from Illinois to assist. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Two years after her arrival in the household,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>she and Henry were married. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>They would have three more children of their own,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Pauline,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Lillian and Richard.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Karoline would be known as “Dundy,”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>to family and friends,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>even to her own children,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The name was a corruption of the German word for “aunt,”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>and given her by the youngest of her sister’s children, Alice.</span></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>Life on the farm was difficult even in the best of times. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Paulding laterite proved fertile in when the weather was relative dry but difficult in wet seasons. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Among the crops grown were sugar beets which required back-breaking work to cultivate. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>First the seed had to be drilled into the ground in the spring.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Then the small plants were thinned in the rows, usually by hand using a short-handled hoe. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Late in the fall when the beets were mature they had to be dug out by hand and the tops lopped off with a large specially constructed knife. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Piles of beets then were lifted by pitchfork onto wagons where they were unloaded onto railroad cars and carried to the sugar factory in the nearby town of Paulding.</span></span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhEYSmG2NTr30qpPDN6oA2azpv7N04QdieH4UOlvk2IPTMfarmVP6dHYKR7j-zWWt35zhnKqtN08Et0Jh-c4AgPdZoMDpB2OExv4UKcdCVuH5KI8LCLHbLJwlH8WFaI3SSSK30oe_wp98WA3lnwyaPu7T71YK5oAFdhz4_BM4aaLJj_bwy8dNWEGvMm=s2048" style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1235" data-original-width="2048" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhEYSmG2NTr30qpPDN6oA2azpv7N04QdieH4UOlvk2IPTMfarmVP6dHYKR7j-zWWt35zhnKqtN08Et0Jh-c4AgPdZoMDpB2OExv4UKcdCVuH5KI8LCLHbLJwlH8WFaI3SSSK30oe_wp98WA3lnwyaPu7T71YK5oAFdhz4_BM4aaLJj_bwy8dNWEGvMm=w400-h241" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The farm, early 1920s</td></tr></tbody></table><p class="p1"><span class="s1"></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>Much of what the farm produced was for home consumption. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The family grew all its own fruits and vegetables. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Its cows, pigs and chickens produced all the milk,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>butter, cheese and meat for the dinner table. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>There was no electricity and consequently no refrigeration,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>so that preservation of food became a major occupation.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Fruits and vegetables<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>were canned or stored in a “root cellar,”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>a earthen floored pit dug inside the house and accessible by a ladder. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In the root cellar produce such as potatoes, cabbage, and apples were buried under mounds of dirt and straw.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In winter, as food was needed, the mounds were uncovered and items removed for consumption. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Some meats were canned,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>others salted and smoked for preservation. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;">Farm life held few nostalgic images for the Lays,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>mostly just memories of unremitting hard work.</span></span></p>
<p class="p2"> *****************</p><p class="p2"><br /></p><p class="p2"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p class="p2"><br /></p>
<p class="p2"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p>Jack Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01499431800088809848noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4158406346037964376.post-40713662244748655852021-11-21T05:19:00.001-08:002021-12-07T07:14:59.851-08:00 Our German Ancestors Part 1: The Boers and the Webers<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></p>
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<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">Previous “family stories” provided on this blog have involved ancestors whose origins were almost entirely in the British Isles --</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">English,</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">Welsh, Scotch and Irish. </span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">They were high and low born, rich and poor,</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">Protestant and Catholic,</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">farmer and city dweller.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">But they all shared one attribute --- all spoke English as a native tongue. </span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">Moreover, most could read and write in English. </span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">This was of immense benefit in America,</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">a prerequisite to “getting ahead.”</span></span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>As the 19th Century progressed,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>however,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>other groups of immigrants were arriving who were not so privileged, people who did not come here speaking English.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>They came from Central and Southern Europe. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Many originated in Germany and some of those German immigrants were our ancestors.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>They are on both sides of our family.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In this post we tell the story of the ancestors of Paula, from her mother’s side.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In Part 2, to come, the story is of Jack’s German ancestors.</span></span></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Going AWOL to America<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> Although Germans had been emigrating to America for years, the 1860s were a period of strong movement from that country. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Compulsory military service had been initiated in Germany in 1859<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>and the Iron Chancellor,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Otto von Bismark,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>had initiated an aggressive foreign policy that would eventuate in a series of wars. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>For enlisted men, service in the German Army was akin to a prison sentence.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Common soldiers were brutalized and forced to survive in a de-humanized atmosphere,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>even in periods between actual combat.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Many recruits died as a result of harsh treatment during basic training.</span></span></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> Paula's great grandfather, Bernhardt (sometimes”Bernard”) Boers was a “house” tailor,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>apparently working for a wealthy family in Drensteinfurt,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Munster,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Westphalia, when he was drafted into the German Army in 1863 or 1864. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Within a short period,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Bernhardt was convinced that military life was not for him. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He went absent-without-leave and returned to Drensteinfurt. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>There he married Anna Sumering,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>who had worked as a maid in the same wealthy home.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Shortly thereafter,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>probably one step ahead of the authorities,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>they took off for America.</span></span></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>We know nothing about the origins or parentage of Bernhardt and Anna,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>but among all our more recent ancestors,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>this couple is the only one whose ocean passage we have been able to document. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“German Immigrants - List of Passengers Bound from Bremen to New York” records the passage of Bernhardt and Anna aboard the steamship,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>America, from North German Lloyd in Bremerhaven, shown below. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It arrived in New York harbor on July 18, 1864. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>His age is given as 27,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>which is internally consistent with other records.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>She was 24.</span></span></p><p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgle05hWOzwKRnyNNOiwAgfq5Q_vrR0Hg4oV1r040QGG00t7ybGlaH9r4lzg1g6mFiG6qpDcqifvp5n4Zzqceag0Ifz0dSCqKP1FkysFU-3FSS21GkN3Ind6Qu5lowyezAnU858sU1zIJeJse1kes67np4alx2ku5L6Bx5Kj3-NLThpA6Ky-Jo9hLou=s788" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="571" data-original-width="788" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgle05hWOzwKRnyNNOiwAgfq5Q_vrR0Hg4oV1r040QGG00t7ybGlaH9r4lzg1g6mFiG6qpDcqifvp5n4Zzqceag0Ifz0dSCqKP1FkysFU-3FSS21GkN3Ind6Qu5lowyezAnU858sU1zIJeJse1kes67np4alx2ku5L6Bx5Kj3-NLThpA6Ky-Jo9hLou=s320" width="320" /></a></div><p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; font-size: large; text-align: left;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The Sidewalks of Peoria</span></span></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>We do not know why the couple settled in Peoria, Illinois. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Bernhardt,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>according to the family,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>had sister who preceded him to the U.S. and who ultimately went out West. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He also had a brother named Henry who was a Catholic<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>priest and emigrated later and settled in Wisconsin. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We have found a record of Henry serving briefly in 1870 as a pastor of a German Catholic parish in Kewaskum,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Wis.,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>in Washington County. But Bernhardt and Anna did not move on to Wisconsin.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>They made Peoria their permanent home and are buried there.</span></span></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>Since Peoria figures large in our German ancestor story,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>a word about it is appropriate here. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>This city in northern Illinois was the first European settlement in the state and one of the earliest in the Northwest Territory.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Located 130 miles southwest of Chicago,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Peoria lay at the southern end of a long lake and was an area rich in fish and game.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Using the Illinois River,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>which flows to the Missouri River and thence to the Mississippi,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>access to Gulf ports was possible. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The earliest European inhabitants were French settlers who eventually were made to move when American soldiers built a fort on the site in 1813. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>As in Wisconsin,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>fertile land could bought cheaply from the U.S. Government and widespread farming began about 1819 with Peoria as the market town.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It is shown below as it looked in 1867.</span></span></p><p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj0UV062ohzbLmHSWYXtqSyI59iL4TdzMgdGvUybl94wKVWZq-V4leUdUNGeq5lnE-gJgQ1P5a0JtyCDvbKtKMKFSxh5UVRfGoQO0WughfOcLtX_79VQr67NqiRVEbEEv6nCUMsy6LuOp8tBJcSCBSkMg8Wv2ra3BwiGnzj_jzdBDQ63mXuv-YXxGOw=s522" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="271" data-original-width="522" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj0UV062ohzbLmHSWYXtqSyI59iL4TdzMgdGvUybl94wKVWZq-V4leUdUNGeq5lnE-gJgQ1P5a0JtyCDvbKtKMKFSxh5UVRfGoQO0WughfOcLtX_79VQr67NqiRVEbEEv6nCUMsy6LuOp8tBJcSCBSkMg8Wv2ra3BwiGnzj_jzdBDQ63mXuv-YXxGOw=w400-h208" width="400" /></a></div><p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"></span></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>In 1854 the first of 15 railroad lines was established. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>By the late 1800s 120 trains per day left Peoria,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>bound for cities small and large,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>including New York and Denver.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The city prospered and experienced both an economic and population boom. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Among early industries were meat packing, <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>casting foundries,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>pottery makers,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>farm machine manufacturing,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>and -- of more than passing interest -- brewing and distilling.</span></span></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>In this vigorous economy, <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>there was a need for craftsmen like shoemakers and tailors. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Bernhardt Boers soon set up his own tailoring business. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In an 1883 city directory he is listed as a tailor at 408 Oak Street. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>His wife may have worked by his side. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>A census document lists her occupation as “tailoress.” <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Bernhardt and Anna had eight children, of whom two died in infancy. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Among the living was Paula’s grandmother,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Elizabeth,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>called “Lizzie” by her brothers,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>born in 1876.</span></span></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The Saloon Keepers Cometh</span></span></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>George Weber,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Paula’s great grandfather,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>was born in Peoria in 1847. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We know nothing of his parents except that in the 1900 Census, they are recorded as having been born in Germany. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>His occupation was saloon keeper.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We have an 1883 Peoria business directory in which George advertised his establishment,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>located at 206 North Fayette St.,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>as “saloon and beer bottler.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He married Albina Huber, a Peoria girl who likewise was born in the U.S., in 1849, to German immigrant parents.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We know little about Albina’s parents, including their names,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>except that they eventually resided in Peoria and Albina’s family was involved in the local distilling industry. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>A contemporary Peoria directory lists an Emil J. Huber as a saloon keeper,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>but we have no records directly linking him with Albina.</span></span></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>Brewing and distilling were common occupations in Peoria of that era.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>At one time Peoria produced more whiskey than any city in the United States.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>So great was the revenue from the whiskey tax that Peoria share of taxes paid to the federal government was greater than any other town in Illinois, including Chicago.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>An abundance of corn and barley,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>good water, and ample transportation were reason why beer and whiskey were major Peoria products. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>From 1837 to 1919 and the onset of Prohibition,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>the city housed 24 breweries and 73 distilleries.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Among them were the Leisey Brewery, below, in which George Weber is said to have worked for a period of time.</span></span></p><p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi1AI97UpftAoFY5b5PFgEL7PGiymstRrHV4YKrN7wgQfCKaJxpEGQiTBomH-0IZ_HEo0brIHEgFIzPH9wbrWPQzzeQnBVHgIpYZ7Tiam8BsvR5asNG8gVss-tccEh4DPcPtNF2HuevkbswKNDClmSQfVBB_CRSYwcsNJmz_BAyeUPXXPFmS4v8GNRv=s1584" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="945" data-original-width="1584" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi1AI97UpftAoFY5b5PFgEL7PGiymstRrHV4YKrN7wgQfCKaJxpEGQiTBomH-0IZ_HEo0brIHEgFIzPH9wbrWPQzzeQnBVHgIpYZ7Tiam8BsvR5asNG8gVss-tccEh4DPcPtNF2HuevkbswKNDClmSQfVBB_CRSYwcsNJmz_BAyeUPXXPFmS4v8GNRv=w400-h239" width="400" /></a></div><p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"></span></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">A Broken Marriage</span></span></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>The Webers had four children,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>of whom the only male child was Hermo Henry Weber, Paula’s grandfather, born in 1877.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He was one of twins.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We know little about his early life, education, or how he met his future wife.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Henry married Elizabeth Boers (whom we met earlier) in Peoria, date uncertain. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>They then moved to Independence, Iowa, where Hermo had a job as a bookkeeper for the Maytag Company which in those days was manufacturing farm equipment and, briefly,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>automobiles,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>as well as kitchen appliances. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The couple’s first two children would be born there,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Hermine in 1911, and our Grandmother Aileen Catherine in 1913.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Aileen was born on January 4, 1913, in Independence,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Iowa,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>and baptized at St. Joseph’s Church on January 19. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>A third child,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Hubert, was born to Hermo and Lizzie in 1915.</span></span></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>At some point the couple with the children moved back to Peoria where marital discord soon was to break up the family.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Hermo has been depicted as a stubborn,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>demanding and penny-pinching husband who found it difficult to get along with other people. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>As a result,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>he frequently was<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>unemployed. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>His behavior became unacceptable to Lizzie.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>She sought and was granted a divorce.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>After the divorce Hermo stayed in Peoria and moved in with his spinster sister.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Eventually Hermo moved to California where he died.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Neither married again.</span></span></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Lizzie was faced with the need to keep her family together despite having a difficult financial situation.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>She moved to Milwaukee with the three children and lived for a time with her brothers,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Barney and Max,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>who were musicians and cigar-makers.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>There this single mother of found work as a stenographer in a local hotel.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>She, with her brothers’ help, was able to keep the family together.</span></span></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Here we suspend the story of Paula’s German ancestors.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The next installment will tell the story of Jack’s German ancestry.</span></span></p><p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p>Jack Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01499431800088809848noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4158406346037964376.post-7752552002350927652021-11-06T07:53:00.002-07:002021-12-07T07:14:15.265-08:00 Friday Lunch Group: 50-Plus Years & Going Strong
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<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><b></b></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">Any group that can trace its origins back more than a half century must indeed be formidable.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">Particularly in the fast paced atmosphere of the Washington, D.C. area. Such is the Friday Lunch Group (FLG) of which I was an original and youngest member in 1970.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span></p>
<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The FLG began that year as a weekly Friday assembly at the Hawk and Dove Restaurant on Pennsylvania Avenue, Capitol Hill. Originally it was largely staff of the House Foreign Affairs Committee. Through the years the membership has expanded to Senate staffers, lobbyists, and others involved in national policy issues.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Except during the pandemic year of 2020 very few Fridays have been missed during the ensuing decades. At this writing we are in our 52nd year with some 2,450 lunches “under our belts.”</span></span></p>
<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">From the outset the idea was to bring together individuals with an interest in and knowledge about national and international issues, who also enjoying a good meal and a libation or two.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The FLG has little structure, except for a chairman whose duty it is to remind members of the meeting and other information pertinent to the gathering, to deal with the dining location, and at times to direct the discussion in order to engage the greatest number of attendees into the conversation.</span></span></p>
<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The Hawk and Dove was a convenient walk from our offices in the House Rayburn Building on Capitol Hill.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The owner was friendly, the food on the American saloon style, and the beer fresh.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We also met from time to time at the officer’s club a DC-area military base where our favorite dish was the “diet special” that was simply a huge patty of rare ground beef and cottage cheese. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>At the outset the membership was small and I was the youngest member at 35 years old.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Our first chairman was Harry Cromer.</span></span></p>
<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">It was Harry who first laid down the rules for our repast.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Each diner was allowed two beverages at lunch, including alcohol.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>(One observer said we were the last “two martini lunch group” left in the DC area.)<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>One could order any entree on the menu but no appetizer or dessert, just coffee.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The check was divided evenly among the assembled — cash on the barrelhead, no credit cards.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Over the years, those rules have prevailed with a few changes.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Under what is known as the “Pat Holt” exception a member is allowed to substitute two appetizers for an entree.</span></span></p>
<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">When Harry left the Hill to work in the State Department in the late ‘70s to become Inspector General of USAID, he moved the lunch to the nearby restaurant of the Watergate Hotel that was walking distance from his office. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>There we met and made the friendship of the Maitre D,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Franco Rivera, the banquet manager, John Atus,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>and the chef -- Klaus.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>When the three opened a restaurant in Rosslyn, Virginia, just across the Key Bridge from the District called the Tivoli, the FLG followed.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>For almost 25 years, we met virtually every Friday at the Tivoli. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></p><p class="p2" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"><br /></span></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhbpLjtjUtXfijw2MbhjFrHxOWexu4gQWZGK0ESZzNqxynGIVFosi20-jy8GN_aanIj8F2qJx4W3JQodEFwepr3icziaSCJZv_-vI7RAlm9au26DQsLASnytG_brg0qfvE54nEZjP7MfaFqEHHZQPMb-N_sI8OjeZN00wqc3AOHRAEYPxzVh0jv55zq=s2048" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1034" data-original-width="2048" height="203" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhbpLjtjUtXfijw2MbhjFrHxOWexu4gQWZGK0ESZzNqxynGIVFosi20-jy8GN_aanIj8F2qJx4W3JQodEFwepr3icziaSCJZv_-vI7RAlm9au26DQsLASnytG_brg0qfvE54nEZjP7MfaFqEHHZQPMb-N_sI8OjeZN00wqc3AOHRAEYPxzVh0jv55zq=w400-h203" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">FLG at the Tivoli</td></tr></tbody></table><p class="p2" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><b><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></b></span></p>
<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">These were “palmy days.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The food was excellent, the welcome hearty and the service from our once and always stellar from our cranky waiter, Tony.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The location was easily accessible to our membership, one that had expanded beyond Capitol Hill to individuals with other backgrounds, including the military, journalism and academia.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We also began a custom of inviting guests from among sitting and former Congressmen and other involved in international activities.</span></span></p>
<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">With Harry’s death, Chips Chester became chair, a position he held for some two decades.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Chips’ reign was characterized by a looser interpretation of Harrys coat and tie dress code.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It also was notable for the standard large plate of cooked spinach that served the table.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Chips detested broccoli as did several others and Popeye food became the standard.</span></span></p>
<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">When the Tivoli closed in 2009, the FLG for some months became a homeless wanderers.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We sought to stay in the Rosslyn because of its centrality to our membership.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We tried several restaurants in the area without success and then went to Bethesda where for years we rotated among several sites -- including the Bethesda Country Club, Kenwood Country Club,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>and <i>Le Ferme</i> Restaurant in Chevy Chase.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></p>
<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">During Chips chairmanship we began series of FLG trips.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Among the early ones was a three-day visit to Milwaukee, home town of five of our members, called “The ZIG trip,” in honor of the deceased Rep. Clement Zablocki.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>During the sesquicentennial of the Civil War (2011-2015) FLG field trips were arranged to battlefield sites in Virginia, Maryland and Pennsylvania, several with Park Service guides assigned to assist our historical understanding. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></p>
<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">With wives FLG made visits to Leesburg, Virginia, to tour the George Marshall House and the Woodrow Wilson House and Museum.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Wives also were part of an excursion to Staunton, Virginia, to see a play at the Shakespeare playhouse, visit a winery, and stay at a historic hotel.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The most “far afield” excursion was a trip of five to France, originating in Paris for a barge trip through the canals of Burgundy.</span></span></p><p class="p2" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgqC_5ThMiF4BJ76z8G9K0djtH9kXZWw_PwRI2h8BIKf-0K-qTuEC-nn80v_FUZOiJjM5BWgTHE54wzLH8Aust_vRABR38KNNbsLoh8KPvEzSSxe49lnMV2uNJgHhv2HnCJO2q0iwe8mWT6_c0u_FeaaEdaRs8aHpCooJ0aQA940POJLA_u5P576CV4=s2532" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1242" data-original-width="2532" height="196" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgqC_5ThMiF4BJ76z8G9K0djtH9kXZWw_PwRI2h8BIKf-0K-qTuEC-nn80v_FUZOiJjM5BWgTHE54wzLH8Aust_vRABR38KNNbsLoh8KPvEzSSxe49lnMV2uNJgHhv2HnCJO2q0iwe8mWT6_c0u_FeaaEdaRs8aHpCooJ0aQA940POJLA_u5P576CV4=w400-h196" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Holiday lunch at Bethesda CC</td></tr></tbody></table><p class="p2" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"></span></p>
<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">With Chips’ passing in 2011, I became chairman.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>This ushered in one change.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Although we previously had marked the Christmas holiday season a special lunch, spouses were not part of the celebration. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>That changed and annually for more than a decade we have been having a larger group that includes wives and, more recently, women staff members who assisted us during our years on Capitol Hill.</span></span></p>
<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The FLG completed 50 years with a virtually unbroken record of weekly lunches only to be confronted in early 2020 with the Covid-19 pandemic and lockdown.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We compensated that year with a weekly email to which FLGers contributed items both serious and comic.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>That was supplemented with monthly ZOOM sessions.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></p><p class="p2" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"><br /></span></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhnElpwG9c50v-MU76pO5dXn1BUZnuJOJctVL9Gia6YJbGwR_XpCBCqApSUChGg4nRHl9G-SFDD5-8x0tFi76nJaGhcHNbBeVbQHOQPvrG8--eK6x0TEX4D2AWnK_cc5mnR5nthn5T60ETRsNMEddNVeQfJLZVTEEbd8bIeKbZ8SgzN9Ri6pl44CefI=s2048" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhnElpwG9c50v-MU76pO5dXn1BUZnuJOJctVL9Gia6YJbGwR_XpCBCqApSUChGg4nRHl9G-SFDD5-8x0tFi76nJaGhcHNbBeVbQHOQPvrG8--eK6x0TEX4D2AWnK_cc5mnR5nthn5T60ETRsNMEddNVeQfJLZVTEEbd8bIeKbZ8SgzN9Ri6pl44CefI=w400-h225" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First post-lockdown lunch, Tempo</td></tr></tbody></table><p class="p2" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"></span></p>
<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">With the relaxation of restrictions in 2021, we resumed actual lunches. As this is written, the FLG now has two cohorts, one in Bethesda dining at the country clubs mentioned earlier. It chaired by Mike Finley.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>A Virginia group that I chair meets at Tempo Restaurant in Alexandria.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Joint lunches occur from time to time.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Currently the active membership is about twenty with another seven or eight at a distance and attending only occasionally.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Our deceased former members number fourteen.</span></span></p>
<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">One final note:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We have been accused of being utterly prosaic in not giving the group a name other than Friday Lunch Group (FLG).<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In 50 plus years we have never found another that does not sound pretentious.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Ours works well.</span></span></p><p class="p2" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="p2" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="p2" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="p2" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p>
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<p class="p1"><span class="s1"></span><br /></p><p> </p>Jack Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01499431800088809848noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4158406346037964376.post-27038069894959882222021-10-23T05:04:00.002-07:002021-12-07T07:13:30.186-08:00 How I Became “An Agent of the Vatican”<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></p>
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</span><p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjptEBUaK0mL80fGUXNj43xfue7detjLP4J3aDYfyVMqkkc4BPSjVLB5FAFuitHVyOS2UPRoaDEZxbmCMGBd6zEeJHQU8YHSznJDOv81FC1XOSGgeF5A3hsku-sKglAOdPNwIFzjG9A2a1eOMi_l75eXt7vQrqosj3b4Uy29tMlEBEUT8okwgy2Mu8M=s379" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="379" data-original-width="333" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjptEBUaK0mL80fGUXNj43xfue7detjLP4J3aDYfyVMqkkc4BPSjVLB5FAFuitHVyOS2UPRoaDEZxbmCMGBd6zEeJHQU8YHSznJDOv81FC1XOSGgeF5A3hsku-sKglAOdPNwIFzjG9A2a1eOMi_l75eXt7vQrqosj3b4Uy29tMlEBEUT8okwgy2Mu8M=w176-h200" width="176" /></span></a><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">A book published earlier this year, entitled </span><i style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">“The Enduring Struggle:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The History of the U.S. Agency for International Development and America’s Uneasy Transformation of the World, </i><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">quotes the former head of the agency’s population program, Dr. Reimert Ravenholt, shown here, calling me an “anti-birth control Catholic zealot.”</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">Elsewhere Dr. R. has labeled me “an agent of the Vatican.”</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">Let me set the record straight in a year by year account of those long ago events:</span></span></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p3" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><b>1973.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></b> That year, on behalf of the House Foreign Affairs Committee I led an onsite study of four Asian countries that had been recipients of USAID population assistance.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The study found a number of problems besetting the programs, the most serious being the waste of more than $1 million on vasectomy/IUD materials that had been left moldering unused in warehouses in South Korea and the U.S.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>This was fallout from Dr. Ravenholt’s belief that simply supplying birth control materials guaranteed their use.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>When the Korea Mission Director, Mike Adler, a distinguished USAID executive, said “no more,” Dr. R tried to have him fired.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Our report backed Adler strongly.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Dr. R. dismissed it as the work of “amateurs.”</span></span></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p3" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><b>1975.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></b> I led a study of USAID family planning programs in six countries of West Africa.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Once again the report detailed problems relating to Ravenholt’s belief that supply created demand.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The program largely was ignoring concomitant health needs in woefully under-served African populations. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The report also leveled strong criticism of USAID contributions to the International Planned Parenthood Federation (IPPF) for ignoring Congressional strictures against funding abortion and for lending U.S. program funds to senior employees interest-free for personal use, also a violation of law.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>By now Dr. R. was seeing me as a prime antagonist.</span></span></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p3" style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi7rOUHsVEzqW-SYEiTRtaMCOHqaUkx76mIRfn0z5bHO6GeUDRbjdM54ts6DgoB--wCrnSBZZ9igrvec6iwLGAGImlgf3GJiuTVioglksitYyl-UGneCsYf-9QSsUXdiMRxhbHj3_Yu8UOqTAqPpl5Ens8K93FARJ4RbGJ9K8UC5C7ucuBP4O7E0j5P=s210" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="210" data-original-width="115" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi7rOUHsVEzqW-SYEiTRtaMCOHqaUkx76mIRfn0z5bHO6GeUDRbjdM54ts6DgoB--wCrnSBZZ9igrvec6iwLGAGImlgf3GJiuTVioglksitYyl-UGneCsYf-9QSsUXdiMRxhbHj3_Yu8UOqTAqPpl5Ens8K93FARJ4RbGJ9K8UC5C7ucuBP4O7E0j5P" width="115" /></span></a><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b>Early in 1976.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></b>It came to light through the Congressional Record and subsequent </span></span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">news stories that in a memo Dr. R. had demanded the prime supplier of contraceptives for the USAID program produce red, white and blue condoms to celebrate the U.S. Bicentennial.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">Jokes about “saluting the flag” abounded.</span></span></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p3" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><b>Later in 1976.</b> Imagine Dr. R’s concern when the Carter Administration put me in charge of the transition at USAID.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He advanced a candidate to be his superior, someone without qualifications but in thrall to him.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>That individual subsequently was turned down.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Through his brother, the staff director for a powerful senator, Dr. R made a feint at stopping my appointment as head of USAID’s Asia Bureau. It failed.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p3" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><b>Early in 1977.</b><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>After only a few days at the Asia Bureau, I received a communique from the mission director in Nepal saying that some 50,000 condoms foisted on him had reached their expiration date and asked my permission to burn them.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In a response entitled <i>“The Smell of Burning Rubber,”</i> I criticized Ravenholt’s policy that initiated the condoms and suggested instead of burning the Mission bury them.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The memo “went viral” at USAID.</span></span></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p3" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><b>Later in 1977.</b><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Dr. R called an Asia-wide conference of all population staff that was held in the Philippines. I attended. There he proposed ending the program in Indonesia, one that in its initial stages had been promising. He likely expected I would jump at the opportunity.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>No way, I responded.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We would double down on success.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p3" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><b>1978:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></b>By now the Asia & Pacific Bureau was moving ahead strongly in health-integrated family planning with robust projects in Philippines, Bangladesh and Sri Lanka as well as Indonesia, a start-up in India at the government’s request, and agreement by the Catholic cardinal of the Philippines to a USAID-funded sterilization program.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Soon the Bureau would be accounted the world’s largest single purchaser of condoms and birth control pills.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Dr. R. began complaining about our spending USAID dollars he thought were his.</span></span></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p3" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><b>1979:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></b> Dr. R contracted for and bought 250,000 “menstrual regulation kits,” a euphemism for abortion ensembles involving a variety of hard plastic instruments.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>After personally examining the kits and finding that they violated the legal prohibition against abortion, I notified the Administrator who ordered that they not be used.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>After they were sent to a warehouse, Dr. R complained that I was against “the most effective means of birth control.” Indeed.</span></span></p><p class="p3" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgcHfEHj_nes9DJ-Us_uFS_JZpBmiu0soDcYGTsh_jDVBQ8bleRFr7VicZoDXmlt3vjmdgdH95hlAa7Nr3Avf9oQ-OMjPxY3l91tQW0p-vtQI_9fJiRl62Ks9eQ7roZIDvYOPM7sAatzSgRW5azwmkrLZlsZ8W5jTYzVedw10J21GuzFuqtKU_Q7pXj=s2001" style="font-family: Times; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1205" data-original-width="2001" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgcHfEHj_nes9DJ-Us_uFS_JZpBmiu0soDcYGTsh_jDVBQ8bleRFr7VicZoDXmlt3vjmdgdH95hlAa7Nr3Avf9oQ-OMjPxY3l91tQW0p-vtQI_9fJiRl62Ks9eQ7roZIDvYOPM7sAatzSgRW5azwmkrLZlsZ8W5jTYzVedw10J21GuzFuqtKU_Q7pXj=w400-h241" width="400" /></span></a></div><p class="p3" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1" style="font-size: medium;"></span></p>
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<p class="p3" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><b>1980.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></b>Dr. Ravenholt was fired.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>His assumption is that I had a hand in it.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Not true.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The impetus came from Capitol Hill where he had angered members by an inflammatory public statement that half the women of the world wanted to be sterilized.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The claim had imperiled passage of the foreign aid bill.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Dr. R’s immediate boss (Jewish) and the Deputy Administrator (Ethical Concept) lowered the axe.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I never lifted a finger.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Ravenholt had dug his own grave. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></p>
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<p class="p3" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><b>The Rest of the Story:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></b> In the book cited above an ally of Dr. R is quoted<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>saying <i>“Both sides of the issue made tremendous mistakes.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></i> Wrong.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Integrating birth control with maternal and child health care, something Ravenholt distained, was the key to the successes seen throughout Asia and other parts of the world.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>My particular pride is in the drastic reduction of family size in Bangladesh as contraception has been adopted. The outcome of the Asia programs should answer Dr. R’s attacks on me as an “anti-family planning Catholic zealot.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>As for being an “agent of the Vatican,” if that claim is sufficient to assure my beatification, let it be.</span></span></p><p class="p3" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhqFSgliZj7bJjhXsZLEBJvmVznp27JCzLUw6iKn8dowaB-nyL4TJKNJUk0xNbyNq20qh-r3dWsGYYcYuCkEMnRlDnM5kANEdZRO2BCtcvc3uWjQ21h8ULg9NDWDY5J0jhg2Q90f6PPb7eh6rWU7P799iBTqOehlYGSpzLC0OECB-Rv8xkUphLlisFt=s392" style="font-family: Times; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="247" data-original-width="392" height="202" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhqFSgliZj7bJjhXsZLEBJvmVznp27JCzLUw6iKn8dowaB-nyL4TJKNJUk0xNbyNq20qh-r3dWsGYYcYuCkEMnRlDnM5kANEdZRO2BCtcvc3uWjQ21h8ULg9NDWDY5J0jhg2Q90f6PPb7eh6rWU7P799iBTqOehlYGSpzLC0OECB-Rv8xkUphLlisFt=s320" width="320" /></span></a></div><p class="p3" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1" style="font-size: medium;"></span></p>
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<p class="p3" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><b>Note:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></b> The 2021 book cited at the outset of this post was written by John Norris.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Although Author Norris fails to capture the spirit of the many marvelous people who have staffed USAID through the years, he provides a useful “top down” assessment of Agency policy since 1960. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></p>
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<p class="p5"><span class="s1"></span><br /></p>Jack Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01499431800088809848noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4158406346037964376.post-75540232512022314402021-10-09T05:38:00.001-07:002021-12-07T07:12:40.540-08:00 The Changing Face of Col. E.H. Taylor Jr., Whiskey Baron<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">Arguably, the most important figure in the history of American distilling was Col Edmund H. Taylor Jr. of Kentucky.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">During his 92 years (1830-1923) Col. Taylor came to epitomize the whiskey industry and became its chief spokesman to American presidents, the U.S. Congress and high government officials.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">Because he insisted that his portrait and signature be prominent on all his products, it is possible to track Taylor’s career through his changing public face.</span></span></p>
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<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhmWQDs54nUyImGPjPk2FLGT0bIOl_ILkFMkfN4nsKfbTy1fmlEQKxGF6QecIjr3RCIa2y414hgcnAUaPlwSIcvZCEyDQKmRSxVFMhI6JaaGC-3Q3scJef-rLfLLzPzCXvfGYgQ2-GfwPSLOB01SExGyNvMGS3NRMyz5DX3a8UWPznk8W_5JgQfYE0e=s556" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="556" data-original-width="509" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhmWQDs54nUyImGPjPk2FLGT0bIOl_ILkFMkfN4nsKfbTy1fmlEQKxGF6QecIjr3RCIa2y414hgcnAUaPlwSIcvZCEyDQKmRSxVFMhI6JaaGC-3Q3scJef-rLfLLzPzCXvfGYgQ2-GfwPSLOB01SExGyNvMGS3NRMyz5DX3a8UWPznk8W_5JgQfYE0e=w183-h200" width="183" /></span></a><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: arial;">The earliest picture I can find of Col. Taylor is from a trade card early in his career, </span></span><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: arial;">a</span></span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> time of trial.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">It is the face of a early middle aged man considered a rising star in Kentucky distilling. </span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">Taylor, however, was being squeezed financially in the Panic of 1873 and resorted to fraud, reported selling rights to 7,014 barrels of whiskey when only 4,722 barrels were aging in his warehouse.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">Exposed and owing the equivalent of $11 million in current dollars, Taylor was bailed out by rival George Stagg who took over his distilleries and relegated him to being a hired hand.</span></span></p><p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium; letter-spacing: 0px;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgXfWlMFoSIG_1BgeYvlGNvkStBEitKzj_vxg9Nx26dIEiBNYgAP1RSj-tej9kzXxhGsYPoOJ64WNmAuEtoMnyNRy4FeAnKqsu74yE9QVHyXgyLmwfTSBocBQNXYfx3bvGHBWgjLQ_5kxm-OvKQ6AMGieJT-NEWUqMGhfki6qUa0uE9gT_i2slQe2ZL=s500" style="font-family: Times; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="440" data-original-width="500" height="282" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgXfWlMFoSIG_1BgeYvlGNvkStBEitKzj_vxg9Nx26dIEiBNYgAP1RSj-tej9kzXxhGsYPoOJ64WNmAuEtoMnyNRy4FeAnKqsu74yE9QVHyXgyLmwfTSBocBQNXYfx3bvGHBWgjLQ_5kxm-OvKQ6AMGieJT-NEWUqMGhfki6qUa0uE9gT_i2slQe2ZL=s320" width="320" /></span></a></div><p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"></p>
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<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Eventually paying off his debts, Taylor broke from Stagg and with his sons, built a new distillery he called “The Old Taylor Distillery Co.” in Frankfort, Kentucky.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>By<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>this period,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>the Colonel had donned spectacles and assumed the chastened look of someone who has “learned his lesson” and was seeking to regain legitimacy among his peers.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>This likeness eventually would find its way onto an advertising watch fob and to the sides of cases of his straight Kentucky whiskey.</span></span></p><p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiFI_Zg5nZ4oXp8RjBL11B9VZTBhKoSIdBTrv6F6Jy87vDYbPrt3bXq9_-v5sd5BsVKf6sfkIMiIK-95osEIjLFIjF6lPVaS5APkI03Z1U-4l_TW-sm7sqqqWmwEZM1nMzwibsEwMOeRKwPkCtaWfzgfUqNoQDdH8Gmx2_qWIXicA1LOq6lW2lVDW--=s1307" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1307" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiFI_Zg5nZ4oXp8RjBL11B9VZTBhKoSIdBTrv6F6Jy87vDYbPrt3bXq9_-v5sd5BsVKf6sfkIMiIK-95osEIjLFIjF6lPVaS5APkI03Z1U-4l_TW-sm7sqqqWmwEZM1nMzwibsEwMOeRKwPkCtaWfzgfUqNoQDdH8Gmx2_qWIXicA1LOq6lW2lVDW--=w184-h200" width="184" /></span></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgWJaRZDe90dMF7eWF4ZbqjY0BwUqc4Xr0pjGy3pfLCEI1gP69mcaQagIWUDgTT0zWpqyVEKBVNyZVq4Pg2AM2PyiCwRWZ09UngCMPhbdA7GtFr5QxsR7Cm7xDCLwOC23ZN4nMCJ7NgYDfNepDW2WfHrIzCQIDDH5rxgMwWcd7jmuZzZBD4q48hb--k=s500" style="clear: left; font-family: Times; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="385" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgWJaRZDe90dMF7eWF4ZbqjY0BwUqc4Xr0pjGy3pfLCEI1gP69mcaQagIWUDgTT0zWpqyVEKBVNyZVq4Pg2AM2PyiCwRWZ09UngCMPhbdA7GtFr5QxsR7Cm7xDCLwOC23ZN4nMCJ7NgYDfNepDW2WfHrIzCQIDDH5rxgMwWcd7jmuZzZBD4q48hb--k=w154-h200" width="154" /></span></a></p>
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<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Taylor’s return to “bourbon baron” status inevitably brought him into conflict with<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Stagg who had kept Taylor’s name because of his stellar reputation for bourbon.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>When the Taylors opened their new facility, Stagg sued to stop them using their family name on their whiskey. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Over the next months, a legal battle was waged that ended in the Kentucky Supreme Court with a partial victory for the Taylors.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>They could continue to use “Old Taylor,” but Stagg’s “Taylor” products were still allowed on the market.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Thus the emphasis emerged on using the Colonel’s face and signature to proclaim the “genuine” bourbon.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Shown below is a 1903 ad in the <i>Wine and Spirit Bulletin </i>declaring that only the real “Old Taylor” would carry the Colonel’s picture and script.</span></span></p><p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg9eXgkRQGubVhZ0lHXX4QYzg-wRGatQr0Sc3vNDMcV0_dNM-YlCZXDR26Z4VRxNDNYTozpKbpe_JmI49uuoNHQfcz9sQXJjj-OK7BTe9J-jZyiVQfz3_u-gqy9uMjitPx-wQ7YhU6FepP9Rkon2YrXMT8hYNKRqk8LJaSAF_cpLOM5un7eL7UX0Fhc=s546" style="font-family: Times; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="380" data-original-width="546" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg9eXgkRQGubVhZ0lHXX4QYzg-wRGatQr0Sc3vNDMcV0_dNM-YlCZXDR26Z4VRxNDNYTozpKbpe_JmI49uuoNHQfcz9sQXJjj-OK7BTe9J-jZyiVQfz3_u-gqy9uMjitPx-wQ7YhU6FepP9Rkon2YrXMT8hYNKRqk8LJaSAF_cpLOM5un7eL7UX0Fhc=s320" width="320" /></span></a></div><p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s2" style="font-size: medium;"></span></p>
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<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">This introduced the era of Taylor’s aggressive look.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Characterized as “hard to get along with” and often “downright cantankerous and hard-nosed,” the distiller in this photo clearly is making a statement, squinting his eyes at the photographer and turning his mouth downward.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He was now at the top tier of Kentucky distillers and not to be trifled with.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>This photo later would be translated into a digital image only slightly less intimidating.</span></span></p><p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjsuvpbis0_82cEVENsB6Q0PPOdVLYM4QOyVVf9M7yrceTe7EjpZERHOG_IAtdVxbdoSW0YUBvxi9SgeIe9Fq7OTZqdKpKB_b1K4gkJ-HXWmw1g3MGybKfwCF6e3e-HVKm3GZjTo1w3HjKVwJ7zeN5RWqShPu-GL9JQ30o2B5jGg9-U17mEdjz7dCO6=s396" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="396" data-original-width="255" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjsuvpbis0_82cEVENsB6Q0PPOdVLYM4QOyVVf9M7yrceTe7EjpZERHOG_IAtdVxbdoSW0YUBvxi9SgeIe9Fq7OTZqdKpKB_b1K4gkJ-HXWmw1g3MGybKfwCF6e3e-HVKm3GZjTo1w3HjKVwJ7zeN5RWqShPu-GL9JQ30o2B5jGg9-U17mEdjz7dCO6=w129-h200" width="129" /></span></a><span class="s2" style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEigPuUPf3jnLpvBRwPAdfua_rEaTVty0t4AAQXFQOpDgCuKNRkppREN3rAve-zWfpzef4ktYDQAExcPR_cC5eBX-Y0iO-LUOVQqjyo6tdZAuuF4CCPpaNAWL3_cbXAJ_4v9bo1CNFf05obDboLALUuE3NaT23ddX_pRpt8DVGyFRaXxZrgGoq4uYJiL=s862" style="clear: left; font-family: Times; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="862" data-original-width="575" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEigPuUPf3jnLpvBRwPAdfua_rEaTVty0t4AAQXFQOpDgCuKNRkppREN3rAve-zWfpzef4ktYDQAExcPR_cC5eBX-Y0iO-LUOVQqjyo6tdZAuuF4CCPpaNAWL3_cbXAJ_4v9bo1CNFf05obDboLALUuE3NaT23ddX_pRpt8DVGyFRaXxZrgGoq4uYJiL=w133-h200" width="133" /></a></span></p>
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<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiFcGQVfxGAcvP3GPiu9CK9x4Impfg4o92_21YIrvMmNTZ6Nd_9t4kYRFkjm03TDcgg0HfimbRl0cemdutdSOjGr1hOGaKvxz8vsoEm48iAThOWAV26z_YE84lpuRtqxZNksevMa3MGLQnaybUfVhHQQ_Zie3ZrvQw1egv4huriIzcph2nghoZ4loGk=s340" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="340" data-original-width="250" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiFcGQVfxGAcvP3GPiu9CK9x4Impfg4o92_21YIrvMmNTZ6Nd_9t4kYRFkjm03TDcgg0HfimbRl0cemdutdSOjGr1hOGaKvxz8vsoEm48iAThOWAV26z_YE84lpuRtqxZNksevMa3MGLQnaybUfVhHQQ_Zie3ZrvQw1egv4huriIzcph2nghoZ4loGk=w147-h200" width="147" /></span></a><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Taylor also was having an impact in Washington, D.C.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>A friend of the Secretary of the Treasury, Kentuckian John Carlyle, he played a major role in the shaping and passage of the “Bottled in Bond Act of 1897” and later in gaining support for passage of the first Food and Drugs Act.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He was lobbying Presidents Theodore Roosevelt and later William Howard Taft to declare blended whiskeys as “artificial,” a battle he ultimately lost. The Colonel Taylor shown here may reflect the demeanor of “respectful persuasion” he likely adopted when visiting the Nation’s Capitol.</span></span></p>
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<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">As he approached an advanced age, a clear effort was made to sweeten Taylor’s image.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In the photo here, his mouth is turned down but the squint is gone.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In formal dress, the white bow tie softens his physiognomy.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Here Taylor seems to be telling us he is “The Elder Statesman” of the liquor industry.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>His company used a similar photo on a paperweight.</span></span></p><p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjEnCyB3nnz9kPq7Z4PgD5D6T8XwQ4tLOFo6O6y2gFvol5yPxUMoy0m06OTnk8QJ5ZeMXi1pVRPaEqG_0pUp78v_6Fl3drQEPYEcVbtl30weZAx3XvsDq8G9FgGwLf9U7kkV3jzZ6pVDZ0DY0Jm_O3at2i2misJF3V2qdnz5j8o5iswDiMs_v3TA0CB=s2048" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1875" data-original-width="2048" height="183" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjEnCyB3nnz9kPq7Z4PgD5D6T8XwQ4tLOFo6O6y2gFvol5yPxUMoy0m06OTnk8QJ5ZeMXi1pVRPaEqG_0pUp78v_6Fl3drQEPYEcVbtl30weZAx3XvsDq8G9FgGwLf9U7kkV3jzZ6pVDZ0DY0Jm_O3at2i2misJF3V2qdnz5j8o5iswDiMs_v3TA0CB=w200-h183" width="200" /></span></a><span class="s2" style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjYFKfaht00OkaKhaAL5RWwY9AwFxGzv_nNCAb8hl3mHv3LqUjnMwTGSYFte_3ClhBz6lVnPsBo_HKU7tTyDre9DLxHZ5D6B0foKfJdSX6PeRmYzS8_ML7y5lU6Xu3-eQ_ggiaZptRIzZtnrbYcVCmr12iW4_JkqzSmVJY4EMD5HxsVR9MWFswkKljl=s404" style="clear: right; font-family: Times; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="404" data-original-width="300" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjYFKfaht00OkaKhaAL5RWwY9AwFxGzv_nNCAb8hl3mHv3LqUjnMwTGSYFte_3ClhBz6lVnPsBo_HKU7tTyDre9DLxHZ5D6B0foKfJdSX6PeRmYzS8_ML7y5lU6Xu3-eQ_ggiaZptRIzZtnrbYcVCmr12iW4_JkqzSmVJY4EMD5HxsVR9MWFswkKljl=w149-h200" width="149" /></a></span></p><p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhlvhxhjPQ_oIcVjT3F8wmEe1PgQekbbT3yxeNeDSJNAtc-9ubb-rtUtQo8XHKgmJ4bO3Ny3GIXgCRPIZEJmYKVeP-ZcBVMNTvc7zqwJeEZWuhsJFviy5CLnTGHWC8yHNHN2mOjvlew4THwtcC_d4f_qtdQ2Ns1LsZSqmQ9ETWqEr9_XzPebqDG7YOJ=s335" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="335" data-original-width="329" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhlvhxhjPQ_oIcVjT3F8wmEe1PgQekbbT3yxeNeDSJNAtc-9ubb-rtUtQo8XHKgmJ4bO3Ny3GIXgCRPIZEJmYKVeP-ZcBVMNTvc7zqwJeEZWuhsJFviy5CLnTGHWC8yHNHN2mOjvlew4THwtcC_d4f_qtdQ2Ns1LsZSqmQ9ETWqEr9_XzPebqDG7YOJ=w196-h200" width="196" /></span></a><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">Another late photo also emphasizes a more benign temperament on the part of</span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> the</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">whiskey baron. He has been though a lifetime of struggles and surmounted them them all to emerged in his “golden years” respected by his peers and listened to by people in high places.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">The flower in his button hole, likely lily-of-the-valley, bespeaks banking of a fiery temperment in favor of a gentle glide into old age.</span></span></p><p class="p2" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium; letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></p>
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<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhK36JyeSqhoo55zyRnTIXTl-URDHRi7V5yUVOpHwXm3L-TMkupdSPrPeXN8CnlAaro4X4htOlSnTTS1edqOxG-ajquF1oLBkrB9eTydITmVYc7dSx5H9zff8hFpQwNVG2WdhgMgao7LFZOoxgqekgILUhmzx2Y81gDvmqn5ODQ8tJvh5e3UMwvGTLR=s367" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="367" data-original-width="315" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhK36JyeSqhoo55zyRnTIXTl-URDHRi7V5yUVOpHwXm3L-TMkupdSPrPeXN8CnlAaro4X4htOlSnTTS1edqOxG-ajquF1oLBkrB9eTydITmVYc7dSx5H9zff8hFpQwNVG2WdhgMgao7LFZOoxgqekgILUhmzx2Y81gDvmqn5ODQ8tJvh5e3UMwvGTLR=w172-h200" width="172" /></span></a><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: arial;">Even in death, however, Colonel Taylor could not escape reproductions.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Shown here is a plaque at the present day Buffalo Trace Distillery in Frankfort.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>it commemorates the O.F.C. (Old Fashioned Copper) Distillery founded by Taylor in<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">1870.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">The face on the metal sign clearly is taken from the “aggressive” Taylor of late middle age. It even reproduces Taylor’s necktie.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">If possible, it is even more baleful a look than the original.</span></span></p>
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<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgWxL9avPnd5M9IMATXZpbTXRRd3mNXc6OJT5yT2z3lYEvjyNurtS5R0yM9AHiraTgDRZYomiWIxaRnM6DACt-9mgGsV7sj0sH-SXBACDZHVXTJBxUTHTMSECHi664S0YFHRx0Z2LI9Zl8yB_QYPGgISfKNfvp4cShfifeIe-OVucZniTk4o7zZquic=s305" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="305" data-original-width="256" height="305" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgWxL9avPnd5M9IMATXZpbTXRRd3mNXc6OJT5yT2z3lYEvjyNurtS5R0yM9AHiraTgDRZYomiWIxaRnM6DACt-9mgGsV7sj0sH-SXBACDZHVXTJBxUTHTMSECHi664S0YFHRx0Z2LI9Zl8yB_QYPGgISfKNfvp4cShfifeIe-OVucZniTk4o7zZquic" width="256" /></span></a><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: arial;">A final look at Edmund H. Taylor, Jr., was provided in a post-</span></span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">Prohibition Christmas advertisement for Old Taylor Bourbon.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">The theme is that while the distiller was usually hard to get along with, at the holidays a genial Taylor </span><i style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">“gathered his loyal employees around him, and as the bottle of Old Taylor passed among them, he.d tell them, one by one how much he had appreciated all they had done.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>And he’d allow himself a small smile of satisfaction.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></i><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">Presumably the portrait of Taylor shows that “small smile.”</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">My thought is that the distiller’s satisfaction instead may stem from being able to satisfy his staff with a swallow of</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">liquor and skip Christmas bonuses. </span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span></span></p>
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</style>Jack Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01499431800088809848noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4158406346037964376.post-37951489792691849152021-09-25T08:30:00.000-07:002021-09-25T08:30:00.792-07:00 Family Stories: Theophilis Eaton in the New World<div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><p style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7QVgodTTzlxMmztn-mdARaF7LfV9moeeEtSxdvb-gsv5PMXZ8dlFVZTVKOEkKfFR-G2La_wAwhqOMSRvNqWZox9S4tucOIuAmlj9_dIqWVEzZseYP43HUbIQ5P83OyIcWYNplrHbBPho/s299/1.+Eaton.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="299" data-original-width="250" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7QVgodTTzlxMmztn-mdARaF7LfV9moeeEtSxdvb-gsv5PMXZ8dlFVZTVKOEkKfFR-G2La_wAwhqOMSRvNqWZox9S4tucOIuAmlj9_dIqWVEzZseYP43HUbIQ5P83OyIcWYNplrHbBPho/w167-h200/1.+Eaton.jpeg" width="167" /></a><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"> <br /> </span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Theophilis Eaton probably is the family’s most famous ancestor although he is 14 generations back, among 8,192 progenitors. Because of his prominence in American colonial history, however, we know a great deal about him and his life. Shown here, Eaton was born about 1890 in Stony Stratford, England, the son of Rev. Richard Eaton, a Puritan clergyman who originated in Coventry. Theophilis became a successful merchant and once, ironically, served as a commercial agent for King Charles I at Copenhagen. One genealogy records that he married Grace Miller in 1622. After her death in 1826, the very next year he married Ann Yale, a widow with three children from an earlier marriage, and the daughter of Bishop George Lloyd of Chester, England. <br /><br />The Eaton name is forever linked with that of Rev. John Davenport, shown here, vicar</span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT5nhiWKVo78VzgycfPQ-3QJZP45rqdPQzxtyfYwBQXYf-dNKp7NT_DejJAU_2Y_Z-7ZqIbEunAr6c4Nt8e-g0TL02lXsX-Kstm9Nk-VyVxaFLx8wa09qNX2eh4xF0JOomLIotvKcYoZc/s223/2.+John+Davenport.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="223" data-original-width="192" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT5nhiWKVo78VzgycfPQ-3QJZP45rqdPQzxtyfYwBQXYf-dNKp7NT_DejJAU_2Y_Z-7ZqIbEunAr6c4Nt8e-g0TL02lXsX-Kstm9Nk-VyVxaFLx8wa09qNX2eh4xF0JOomLIotvKcYoZc/s0/2.+John+Davenport.jpg" width="192" /></a></span> of a important London church, a charismatic preacher and a Puritan leader. Eaton’s father had baptized Davenport and the two Puritan worthies were close friends. Davenport’s church was the center of a prosperous and strongly Nonconformist community. The pastor himself several times was called before Church of England authorities to account for his views. Eventually forced to flee to Holland, Davenport soon returned to England and in concert with Eaton organized a scheme of emigration to the New World. With relatives and fellow Puritans drawn from several parts of England, the emigrants embarked in late April, 1636, aboard the Hector, a boat of some 250 tons. They arrived in Boston harbor two months later, on June 26. With them was Eaton’s wife, Ann, and her children.<br /><br /></span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXOuysuYT1gM8OAB4eLQB9bXyLg-uMU591PFPUNxPZb8qad5vfZBaBERbKL97m3r50ZiXWFHVgzEfgvDb5aghBMDRTKxg-WVgUtx5U8Qn62_gXkljuo07s27qC3-_CzXotl20H9vynNlI/s626/3.+Eaton+%252B+her+children.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="626" data-original-width="508" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXOuysuYT1gM8OAB4eLQB9bXyLg-uMU591PFPUNxPZb8qad5vfZBaBERbKL97m3r50ZiXWFHVgzEfgvDb5aghBMDRTKxg-WVgUtx5U8Qn62_gXkljuo07s27qC3-_CzXotl20H9vynNlI/s320/3.+Eaton+%252B+her+children.jpg" width="260" /></a></span>Although the original idea of the company was to settle in Massachusetts and they received a warm welcome from earlier settlers, the company quickly determined that the place was not suitable. Davenport was concerned about theological issues being debated in Boston that he found difficult. Eaton could not find a suitable harbor along the Massachusetts coast that was not already occupied by earlier settlers. But new opportunities beckoned. The Pequot Indian War which began in April of 1837 with the massacre of nine white settlers, including three women, had ended with an Indian defeat at the Battle of Great Swamp. New areas of Connecticut now were open for colonization. Eaton’s company settled on Quinnipiac, the site of an abandoned Indian settlement on a spacious harbor looking south toward Long Island Sound. A illustration captures their arrival. That was in March 1638. The settlers called the place “New Haven.” They intended their community to be a Puritan theocracy in which, by its original covenant: “The word of God shall be the only rule to be attended to in ordering the affayres of government.”<br /><br />A Tiffany stained glass window in Center Church in New Haven depicts the first </span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEjy38lCdHKMgrr9PKlsr_lSt2-xQlszjSB4UqNfGFwrOK6-IKMjMZPcRateIWnuetuvMx80jfYkEofjTdBEGB8uODOJ6EOvUWoZWW8MSb3Oe_UGPzHY0U9LHgRtwt1bNrsr5Nn9-jbJc/s896/4.+Tiffany+Window+.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="896" data-original-width="643" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEjy38lCdHKMgrr9PKlsr_lSt2-xQlszjSB4UqNfGFwrOK6-IKMjMZPcRateIWnuetuvMx80jfYkEofjTdBEGB8uODOJ6EOvUWoZWW8MSb3Oe_UGPzHY0U9LHgRtwt1bNrsr5Nn9-jbJc/s320/4.+Tiffany+Window+.jpg" width="230" /></a></span>Christian service conducted in the settlement on Sunday, April 1638. The window contains 2,320 individual pieces of glass and cost $10,000 when installed in 1893. John Davenport appears in the center of the scene, right hand pointing heavenward, a Bible clutched in his left hand. To his left is Theophilis Eaton, bearing a white beard and full head of hair, richly costumed and stately of bearing. He holds the rounded black hat of the Puritan and what appears to be a rifle. There they stand, Davenport and Eaton, Church and State united as one. Anne may be the woman in the foreground.<br /><br />Developing the New Haven Colony<br /><br />These Puritan forefathers then got very busy. From April 1638 until October 1639 the colonists lived in cave-like shelters along a creek while their town was being planned and built. Under the direction of Eaton the town was designed around nine squares -- the first example of town planning in New England. It included a central market and a commons known as New Haven Green that exists to this day. Although the settlers had among them a surveyor, historians give credit to Theophilis for the far-sighted layout. As one has noted: “It is impossible to conceive of any action of importance taking place during the first two decades of New Haven history without the advantages of Eatonian guidance.” <br /><br />Some of Eaton’s settlers, probably at his urging, moved out to establish other Connecticut towns -- Milford, Guilford and Stamford. In 1640 the New Haven company purchased a tract of land across the Sound on Long Island and founded a settlement at Southold. Other sites followed on Long Island and in Delaware as part of Governor Eaton’s grand plan to develop a network of Puritan-controlled coastal trading centers stretching from New England to the Chesapeake Bay.<br /><br />In the initial years of the colony Theophilis held the title of Chief Magistrate. With official consolidation of all Puritan holdings under the title of the New Haven Colony in 1643 he became the first governor, a post he held until his death in 1858. Historical accounts of his leadership are generally favorable. Believing with his Puritan brothers that he was among the Elect and that God’s hand was guiding him and his fellows much as God had guided the Israelites in the desert, Eaton had enormous confidence that his actions were divinely ordained.<br /><br />With power came wealth. Eaton built a mansion at a spot that is now the north corner of Elm and Orange Streets in New Haven. Shown below, it was a common form of manor houses of England at the time. Contemporaries characterized it as “large and lofty” with two full stories and a large attic. It is said to have had 21 fireplaces, although later authors have disputed that total. Although Rev. Davenport and one or two other Puritan worthies had large houses, Theophilis’ was the most impressive in New Haven. No records exist of its destruction but it was gone by 1730. </span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYbZBP5k6vZ9WLseBZo12M8KeX4HWf2FsJ2i4w-PZW2_41qa5U7cm_jQOYbwslRZuIE3ZYLGGAFEwXYWqt6krkPadMlCUVxVYWVrYCKHlxbXCSBFCfJjMzFfSEm2608lOW3R2GVPp9ezQ/s613/5.+Theophilus_Eaton_house_in_New_Haven.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="379" data-original-width="613" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYbZBP5k6vZ9WLseBZo12M8KeX4HWf2FsJ2i4w-PZW2_41qa5U7cm_jQOYbwslRZuIE3ZYLGGAFEwXYWqt6krkPadMlCUVxVYWVrYCKHlxbXCSBFCfJjMzFfSEm2608lOW3R2GVPp9ezQ/s320/5.+Theophilus_Eaton_house_in_New_Haven.png" width="320" /></a></div><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;">In Eaton, as with many Puritans, there was a strong mix of the secular and the sacred. The famous American preacher Cotton Mather mentions with approval the tradition in the Eaton household wherein the “pater familias" would call together the children every Sunday evening to see how well they had paid attention to the sermon of the day, pointing out “in an obliging manner” difficult theological points and applying the doctrines to the children’s lives. With that attitude it is no wonder that in 1656 Eaton drafted a strict code of laws for the New Haven Colony. Drawn on Biblical injunctions and aimed at dictating personal conduct, this screed subsequently became the basis of many New England “blue laws.” <br /><br />Trouble in Paradise<br /><br />Wealthy, living in a large home of 10 rooms with five chimneys and multiple </span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHGyiJxqdn6a-dz-NjlNfUXqnObjjIZ383MAiN-QTFNhLmUTC4UhKBh9WyOnXpgFKoca5HeFokFg7cxUESaue8WVwUY3jkmXJdtgFfK2h9PtUUaQCZobfud8rkXb0CUSW6qI7I7Ahv6Ng/s274/6.+lady-deborah-moody-fb.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="247" data-original-width="274" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHGyiJxqdn6a-dz-NjlNfUXqnObjjIZ383MAiN-QTFNhLmUTC4UhKBh9WyOnXpgFKoca5HeFokFg7cxUESaue8WVwUY3jkmXJdtgFfK2h9PtUUaQCZobfud8rkXb0CUSW6qI7I7Ahv6Ng/w200-h180/6.+lady-deborah-moody-fb.jpg" width="200" /></a></span>fireplaces, an unquestioned leaders apparently thoroughly in charge of his situation, Theophilis should have been a satisfied man. But the cankerworm of religious dissent, so much a part of the Puritan rebellion, was now gnawing at the vital center of his own family. Our ancestor Ann Yale Eaton had been converted to Anabaptism, the forerunner of the Baptist denomination, after she had accepted the teachings of Lady Deborah Moody, shown here, described by one author as a “wise and anciently religious woman.” This conversion was no small matter. Ann’s descent into heresy was not only a religious offense but a serious civil crime.<br /><br />Why did Ann take such a scandalous step to rebel against the beliefs of her distinguished husband and his colleagues? One account has her overburdened by a household of some 30 people, relatives of her own and of her husband. Anne’s inlaws, including Theophilis’ mother and a daughter from his first marriage, are portrayed as strongly antagonistic to her. Theophilis is reputed often to have sided with his “flesh and blood” against Ann, largely ignoring her companionship and confiding entirely in his friend, Rev. Davenport. Presumably looking for a way to express her frustration, Ann stopped coming to communion services. Then word got around that she had converted to heretical Anabaptism . There ensued, according to one story, a confrontation with Rev. Davenport who subsequently brought her before the church court on 17 charges, including the unspeakable crime of criticizing a minister.<br /><br />The power of the Puritan clergy had reached a height reminiscent of prelates in fundamentalist Moslem countries of our own day. Each of the towns in the New Haven colony was governed by seven clergymen magistrates known as “Pillars of the Church.” None but church members were their electors, thereby disenfranchising at least half the settlers. These magistrates also served as judges. Trial by jury, an established English tradition, had been dispensed with by the Puritans since no authority could be found for it in the laws of Moses. Consider then the pain and embarrassment that Theophilis must have felt when his wife, the mother of his children, was called up before this tribunal. If Ann had been a lesser light in the community, the Puritan magistrates might have had her publicly whipped and banished her from the colony. As the wife of the governor she simply was convicted of lying (her religious dissent being the real charge) and excommunicated from the Puritan church.<br /><br />In his book “The First Frontier” author Roy Coleman portrays a scene in which John Davenport is presiding in the New Haven Green meeting house and before him sits the Right Worshipful Governor Eaton and a group of other New Haven worthies. But the wife of the governor has no assigned seat. She is no longer a member of the church, having been excommunicated. Ann Yale Eaton sits among the non-members. “Gossip said that she was asking the Governor for a separate room,” says Coleman. After the death of Theophilis she soon returned to England where she died in 1659. With her on the trip back was Elihu Yale, 11, a grandson out of her first marriage. He eventually would finance the founding of Yale College, now Yale University. The univerrsity is literally a stone’s throw from the scene of his grandmother’s trial.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></span></p>Jack Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01499431800088809848noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4158406346037964376.post-33595564495763514842021-09-11T05:10:00.002-07:002021-12-07T07:11:39.617-08:00Charles Dickens in the Round<p style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR4VkWWmRvJ5l5w46xIe_t9O5RxoaTEW-B7G_pzYjh90Mw2ded6YN1oPF-Rf-ojPFrLSOpTiL5Gru0uTGXSXpx65NV7x46hk7RYidkVTVF9xm5sAicU_8_v0CfYDcYgNYlbLLOl2oX8e8/s900/1.+charlesdickens-b-w-charles-dickens-was-english-writer-social-critic-one-most-popular-english-novelists-line-art-145113749+copy.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="660" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR4VkWWmRvJ5l5w46xIe_t9O5RxoaTEW-B7G_pzYjh90Mw2ded6YN1oPF-Rf-ojPFrLSOpTiL5Gru0uTGXSXpx65NV7x46hk7RYidkVTVF9xm5sAicU_8_v0CfYDcYgNYlbLLOl2oX8e8/w147-h200/1.+charlesdickens-b-w-charles-dickens-was-english-writer-social-critic-one-most-popular-english-novelists-line-art-145113749+copy.jpg" width="147" /></a><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">During recent years I have sold or given away the bulk of a collection of vintage </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">whiskey containers but have never been able to part with set of china mini-jugs issued about the mid-1980s by the Pick Kwik Wine & Spirits Co. of Derby, England.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">In marvelously realized underglaze transfers they dramatize scenes from novels by Charles Dickens to advertise Pickwick Scotch Whiskey.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">The base identifies the maker as the John Humphrey Pottery of Stafford, England.</span></span></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">Although virtually all of Dicken’s novels contained line illustrations, over time they represented</span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> the work of a number of artists whose styles while differing slightly are similar.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">Rendered in black, blue and brown, the images viewed here “in the round” are generally faithful to the original drawings.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">With each jug holding at most two or three swallows of whiskey, they are a unique advertising issue.</span></span></p>
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<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidnAZZBls2DF9HkR_ZkbHST9dVlpitD3_kd5Jc-QvXTadH1Q7WPUSkEfxnaOYOa6e18nKgJI5ecbanRor6IIKEl4Ta9m7pa7OpV8Ue1-mHVhNBnIF9EXq4y-DvhgrGhNCBzBp6uqjZcj8/s2048/2%252C+Pickwick+Club.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1307" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidnAZZBls2DF9HkR_ZkbHST9dVlpitD3_kd5Jc-QvXTadH1Q7WPUSkEfxnaOYOa6e18nKgJI5ecbanRor6IIKEl4Ta9m7pa7OpV8Ue1-mHVhNBnIF9EXq4y-DvhgrGhNCBzBp6uqjZcj8/s320/2%252C+Pickwick+Club.jpg" width="204" /></span></a><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Appropriately, three of the mini-jugs display scenes from Dicken’s first novel, “The Pickwick Papers,” a runaway success that almost overnight made him a super-star of English literature.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The story follows the adventures of Samuel Pickwick, a genial and wealthy old gentleman, sometimes guilty of over-imbibing, who is the founder and president of the Pickwick Club.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>A jug shows him addressing the small gathering suggesting that he and three other "Pickwickians" should make journeys to locales away from London and report on their findings to the other members of the club.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The travels of Pickwick and his friends throughout the English countryside by coach provide the chief subject matter of the novel.</span></span></p>
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<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEgOYD0kA-swqLYhEVCbCn12KX-iPUIfuhpRrpJh_8bmdXkUSovY-LGY_lwoBFoThngZjXMfHYFoqgoHdTacPIRrZw4SFXxQEu0Je3gUd9LJsG9EjZwLmGsEiVupkEUTsB8S7AewBIuk4/s2048/3.+Weller.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1362" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEgOYD0kA-swqLYhEVCbCn12KX-iPUIfuhpRrpJh_8bmdXkUSovY-LGY_lwoBFoThngZjXMfHYFoqgoHdTacPIRrZw4SFXxQEu0Je3gUd9LJsG9EjZwLmGsEiVupkEUTsB8S7AewBIuk4/s320/3.+Weller.jpg" width="213" /></span></a><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: arial;">Another jug is entitled “The first appearance of Mr. Samuel</span></span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> Weller.”</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">Sam does not appear until Chapter 10 when Pickwick meets him working at a tavern and takes him on as a personal servant and companion on his travels.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">While Pickwick is a character having an almost childlike simplicity, Weller, a Cockney, is ‘street-wise’. Weller is the more experienced of the two despite his youth and the most intelligent character in the novel.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">Sam becomes deeply attached</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">to the elderly gentleman and helps him in a variety of difficulties.</span></span></p>
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<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV48abKZWo8le4zUIRsDLHyJR9eL1gNjNmjMEmssQidZhMGZ97R4hgIC4gQLw6tspWvFoPvQeH1_ctRUKEkF_8o8vtjvU6iQKDzoJTlNPe9z15rq7Jms8p3cGehm7VHePbvbp7bUbJd2M/s2048/4.+Pickwick+Widow.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1289" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV48abKZWo8le4zUIRsDLHyJR9eL1gNjNmjMEmssQidZhMGZ97R4hgIC4gQLw6tspWvFoPvQeH1_ctRUKEkF_8o8vtjvU6iQKDzoJTlNPe9z15rq7Jms8p3cGehm7VHePbvbp7bUbJd2M/s320/4.+Pickwick+Widow.jpg" width="201" /></span></a><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The most dire of these is Pickwick’s entanglement with a widow, Mrs. Bardell. As his landlady: <i>“She waited on him, attended to his comforts, cooked his meals, looked out his linen for the washer-woman when it went abroad, darned, aired, and prepared it for his wear when it came home, and, in short, enjoyed his fullest trust and confidence.”</i><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Then she misconstrued some of his remarks as a proposal of marriage and swooned in his arms.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Her suit for breach of promise later bankrupted both, sending them to debtor’s prison.</span></span></p>
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<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-T46c056QaFp54PGrjOGecjBXJufQ1wycUVsODkqKVD-Pk2FhcXQmGX7gUHt5UWeSKfyhY-g8239Ts5KJuZeFWcciqDS0KeuDjSl8axFxelKkBzzqoGun1EHUCyH2HhmL14ESSYSeNmU/s2048/5.+Twist+Bumble.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1393" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-T46c056QaFp54PGrjOGecjBXJufQ1wycUVsODkqKVD-Pk2FhcXQmGX7gUHt5UWeSKfyhY-g8239Ts5KJuZeFWcciqDS0KeuDjSl8axFxelKkBzzqoGun1EHUCyH2HhmL14ESSYSeNmU/s320/5.+Twist+Bumble.jpg" width="218" /></span></a><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: arial;">Four jugs commemorate another famous Dickens novel,</span></span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> “Oliver Twist.”</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">One is entitled </span><i style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">“Mr. Bumble is degraded in the eyes of the Paupers.” </i><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">Bumble is the cruel and self-important official who oversees the parish workhouse and orphanage of Mudfog, a country town more than 75 miles from London where the orphaned Oliver Twist is brought up.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">After marrying the widowed matron of the workhouse, Bumble finds out that his new wife is a sharp-tongued and tyrannical woman who nags and browbeats him in front of workhouse residents.</span></span></p>
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<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbWnZXel2GIYbvjPKAWkxuwKc1grhKvKuKTYFQqj3PLDzM4Gu7CCMkqW3JyOfYufPkpW-j7bwbgPx-i0BMIr9jap4-0w01aULst5pe6V5rDAQQHcpNhNDHBLjzshQv1o1codjgAEWu7oY/s2048/6.+Fagin+Dodger.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbWnZXel2GIYbvjPKAWkxuwKc1grhKvKuKTYFQqj3PLDzM4Gu7CCMkqW3JyOfYufPkpW-j7bwbgPx-i0BMIr9jap4-0w01aULst5pe6V5rDAQQHcpNhNDHBLjzshQv1o1codjgAEWu7oY/s320/6.+Fagin+Dodger.jpg" width="240" /></span></a><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The other three jugs commemorate Oliver’s sojourn with the master thief, Fagin, and his band of street boys who pickpocket and commit other street crimes.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Shown here, Oliver is being introduced to Fagin and the gang.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Fagin is portrayed as a criminal mastermind who kidnaps orphaned children and trains them to be thieves in return for sheltering and feeding them.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He keeps the money for himself.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Next to him is his chief lieutenant, known as “The Artful Dodger.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Dodger, characterized as a child who acts like an adult, wearing adult clothes that are too large for him.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></p>
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<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoJu3EHMydjloW1Om-Ax86RV4uvlrhRutxogrzglcdXVstNWU0RkHXvvGZeVtH6QX56-82ksX64teuoKzgX8zGxYFNcMVSh2QLAjhJY2Us4hhpqOb4jcVshxn30fdpsZgu2kT65y8Yp2c/s2048/7.+Twist+Bates.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1318" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoJu3EHMydjloW1Om-Ax86RV4uvlrhRutxogrzglcdXVstNWU0RkHXvvGZeVtH6QX56-82ksX64teuoKzgX8zGxYFNcMVSh2QLAjhJY2Us4hhpqOb4jcVshxn30fdpsZgu2kT65y8Yp2c/s320/7.+Twist+Bates.jpg" width="206" /></span></a><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: arial;">Another of the gang is Charles Bates, shown here</span></span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> talking to Oliver about the fine points of professional thievery.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">He is the only member of Fagin's gang to reform. In the final chapter Dickens states that Charley left London to work as a farm hand, later becoming a shepherd.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">Dicken wrote: </span><i style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">”Master Charles Bates…fell into a train of reflection whether an honest life was not, after all, the best. Arriving at the conclusion that it certainly was, he turned his back upon the scenes of the past, resolved to amend it in some new sphere of action.</i><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">”</span></span></p>
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<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBkb_9dpL-0fhnMqceebDY-Ks97i_y15mK3fyPv-eujNUiMD-RM1QXYoPFu0Z0K_vsgz68NiLnxCOYfZvNFgWKGeM-VHR_0piCfYD5BMW8ohiLjkNT_e-rab1SBbFOWo9-5Pq9OK1j124/s2048/8.+Twist+Sikes.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1388" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBkb_9dpL-0fhnMqceebDY-Ks97i_y15mK3fyPv-eujNUiMD-RM1QXYoPFu0Z0K_vsgz68NiLnxCOYfZvNFgWKGeM-VHR_0piCfYD5BMW8ohiLjkNT_e-rab1SBbFOWo9-5Pq9OK1j124/s320/8.+Twist+Sikes.jpg" width="217" /></span></a><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The last Oliver Twist jug depicts one of the most chilling scenes in all of English literature:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>the murder of Nancy,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>who has been deeply protective of Oliver, by the brutal Bill Sikes, an adult criminal associated with Fagin who believes Nancy has betrayed the gang. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Nancy is portrayed as highly sympathetic and readers have been known to weep at reading Dickens wrenching description of her demise. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></p>
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<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgInhJb-_q30NYbxOuNFV2LHb9ipwo_N13_nvYw-dc0UdM891TPIRiUYsIhyQc6B-B-DwjaLMhf0X_Z1VqDXPDGP8Pzh08NAu1Hu3dlLEwrXX0sp9CGpmrfwVknSZ0n41mycLIhaUUeL9s/s2048/9b.+Copperfield.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1463" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgInhJb-_q30NYbxOuNFV2LHb9ipwo_N13_nvYw-dc0UdM891TPIRiUYsIhyQc6B-B-DwjaLMhf0X_Z1VqDXPDGP8Pzh08NAu1Hu3dlLEwrXX0sp9CGpmrfwVknSZ0n41mycLIhaUUeL9s/s320/9b.+Copperfield.jpg" width="229" /></span></a><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />The last jug is a reference to Dicken’s 1850 novel,</span></span><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: arial;"> David</span></span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> Copperfield, but has nothing to do with the story.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">On the left is Wilkins Micawber, one of the author’s most delightful characters.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">Often down on his luck financially, Mr. Micawber is known for his optimism, identified with the belief that "something will turn up." In this depiction he is telling Copperfield, far left, </span><i style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">“David, this whiskey is superb.”</i></span></p>
<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b>Note:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></b> This is the second article on this blog to feature Samuel Pickwick and whiskey.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>A post on August 14, 2015, describes his general association with strong drink th</span></span><span style="font-family: arial;">rough the years.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">It is entitled:</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">“Mr. Pickwick — ‘The Old Gentleman’ Advertising Alcohol.” </span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial;"> </span></span></p>
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</style>Jack Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01499431800088809848noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4158406346037964376.post-75202508933424953802021-08-28T05:18:00.002-07:002021-12-07T07:10:37.067-08:00 A Disaster Unfolding: That Day in Cambodia<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3GYpM-BkVrN-3R9TexwqENpuj1-nQXzz9Tx-0n2XpuH_12aMVVftIq351gUTC4YES7PNREQyilQRvwC42s7UUGQKlaQsfDH1sBxqhA2OGPnKMUpCn51-9Yf8ZQUmoatFZ7JbKgHLmzCc/s869/1.+Escape.jpg-+C.jpg" style="font-family: Helvetica; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="586" data-original-width="869" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3GYpM-BkVrN-3R9TexwqENpuj1-nQXzz9Tx-0n2XpuH_12aMVVftIq351gUTC4YES7PNREQyilQRvwC42s7UUGQKlaQsfDH1sBxqhA2OGPnKMUpCn51-9Yf8ZQUmoatFZ7JbKgHLmzCc/w400-h270/1.+Escape.jpg-+C.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"><i>Foreword:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></i></b><i style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> As the chaotic U.S. withdrawal from Afghanistan plays out, I am cast back in memory to the final days of the United States in Cambodia.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It has been 46 years since the United States with allies evacuated Phnom Penh (above) as a hostile force advanced, an event I remember vividly. The story is one I have never before put to paper.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Now seems the time.</i></span></p>
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<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">In December 1971 the Chairman of the House Foreign Affairs Committee, where I was a staff assistant, asked me and a French-speaking colleague to do fact-finding on the conflict there by going to Cambodia.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The experience clearly indicated the follies of U.S. intervention.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Our critical report, to my chagrin, was quashed by the Nixon Administration and never officially published.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>From then on, however, I continued to be involved with Cambodia, including a mission there in 1974 and frequent contact with its embassy.</span></span></p>
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<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje9Sx03fb04SMQaOorZLd7c8RI5boJwoNLdEICgWA2JJNJETx-hASfxS2E6qjfzW6Y_uEnpbiTC-DD2rPXVb5NaGCnUlYkZ0IA67ZtL4p56o2CTfcaoKxs2AfVpk7HZRDTAUaVivctuQ0/s316/3.+Supply+map.jpg-+L+.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="316" data-original-width="288" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje9Sx03fb04SMQaOorZLd7c8RI5boJwoNLdEICgWA2JJNJETx-hASfxS2E6qjfzW6Y_uEnpbiTC-DD2rPXVb5NaGCnUlYkZ0IA67ZtL4p56o2CTfcaoKxs2AfVpk7HZRDTAUaVivctuQ0/w182-h200/3.+Supply+map.jpg-+L+.jpg" width="182" /></span></a><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">In 1975 the situation declined swiftly.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>An indigenous radical Communist force, known as “The Khmer Rouge” had taken over virtually all of Cambodia, leaving only the capital Phnom Penh in the hands of the U.S.-installed government.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The population of the city was being reached with food and other supplies only by daily airlifts from Saigon.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Nixon recently had resigned and Gerald Ford was President.</span></span></p>
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<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">At home one evening in February 1975, I received a telephone call from a colleague telling me that as a last-ditch effort, the White House was recruiting a delegation of Senate and House members to go to Indochina and had requested that I be among the small staff accompanying them.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>My wife was furious, demanding:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><i> “What are you, some kind of lap dog of Gerry Ford?”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></i> Nonetheless, with a partner, Jack Brady, I went.</span></span></p>
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<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7XwZDdPtgHwNvlg-rY4Krujf5ds7eGpNA4uNnVBZG67ksmnn5tqVNvalYrkZNmdTLe7wHS4bsKrc8eMOSBlOElY4eBROTj5JwOWT7R-65UM0Pg3OCocL-RXlMrA4rqop3-I3Z-JERh34/s2048/2.+IMG_3308.jpg-+R.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1583" data-original-width="2048" height="247" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7XwZDdPtgHwNvlg-rY4Krujf5ds7eGpNA4uNnVBZG67ksmnn5tqVNvalYrkZNmdTLe7wHS4bsKrc8eMOSBlOElY4eBROTj5JwOWT7R-65UM0Pg3OCocL-RXlMrA4rqop3-I3Z-JERh34/s320/2.+IMG_3308.jpg-+R.jpg" width="320" /></span></a><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial;">Our group flew into Phnom Penh in a small Air America (CIA) passenger plane that</span></span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> was obliged to “corkscrew” its landing because of fear of taking fire from the periphery of the airport.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">The U.S. Ambassador, John Gunther Dean, shown herein a suit, was there to meet us.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">As I emerged from the plane he lowered his coat and said:</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><i style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">“Stab me again, Sullivan.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></i><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">His reference was immediately clear. In a report to Congress a year earlier I had documented that the embassy was evading a Congressional restriction on the numbers of American officials who could be in country by sending personnel to Saigon every night and returning them in the morning. It caused a ruckus on Capitol Hill.</span></span></p>
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<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Ours was a one-day investigation, it being considered too dangerous for the delegation to stay overnight. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>After an Embassy briefing I accompanied some of the members to the airport warehouses and defense perimeter.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Pallets of food stretched for yards, defended by adolescent boys with antiquated rifles.<i> “Look at these soldiers,”</i> enthused a South Carolina Republican,<i> “I’ll bet they can put up a fierce fight!”</i><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Astounded I replied:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><i> “Congressmen, these are children!”</i></span></span></p>
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<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">From there Brady and I went off for a private briefing by the CIA station chief and his staff. It was sobering. They described the killings and other brutality that the Khmer Rouge was inflicting on the people they controlled, even among groups allied with them.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Their victory, our briefers predicted, would be followed by a bloodbath.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We believed them and meeting the delegation for an official lunch passed on the information.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Congresswoman Bella Abzug responded:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><i> “Why am I hearing these unacceptable things from guys I like.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></i> Her similar intransigence during the meal caused the Cambodian Army Chief of Staff to weep.</span></span></p>
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<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The post-lunch discussion broke up suddenly as the warning came of an incoming rocket.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Taking cover, we heard one explode not far from where we were gathered.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Brady and I then left the delegation for a useless U.S. military briefing.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We split and I met solo with a group of U.S. NGO representatives about their plans for getting their people out of the country.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Late in the afternoon I headed alone back to the airport in a car and armed escort provided by the Cambodian army.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>As we drove, suddenly the sound of continuous rifle shots had me ducking to the floor.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It was “friendly” fire.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>My escorts were discharging their weapons in the air to clear the two-lane road of a multitude of people, some with luggage, apparently hoping to leave the country. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></p>
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<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3e11_JzQSwweS_6rfCHfn2GcadMROLuUkYoiRlXiXeQREGlRRgFaCtQLUxZC5B1dOI25tKleZMGAGDZkPXvHRq9fXFcTNcgOd4XHn3LaBQETA9GNCB09CvNs-D7Jl1d9zme-fVl2J1LM/s260/5.+long-boret-L.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="247" data-original-width="260" height="190" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3e11_JzQSwweS_6rfCHfn2GcadMROLuUkYoiRlXiXeQREGlRRgFaCtQLUxZC5B1dOI25tKleZMGAGDZkPXvHRq9fXFcTNcgOd4XHn3LaBQETA9GNCB09CvNs-D7Jl1d9zme-fVl2J1LM/w200-h190/5.+long-boret-L.jpeg" width="200" /></span></a><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I was the first to arrive at the landing area where the Air America plane would pick us up.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>As I stood waiting, a Cambodian soldier who spoke English approached and said:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><i>“Sir, please get under that truck,”</i> pointing out a military vehicle standing nearby.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><i>“We have incoming rockets.” <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></i>By stooping low, I complied and upon looking up saw the Foreign Minister, Long Boret, crouched beside me. He had come to see us off. We exchanged greetings.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Luckily, no rockets appeared.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Soon the delegation, my partner, and the airplane arrived.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Hot, tired and tense we boarded without conversation, corkscrewed our way into the air, and headed back to Saigon.</span></span></p><p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc6fMvW4GBhCnPF4dKtLoiQY8dZOW4vVKpHUio_SuhSlPftZ3uKi5fY4iON1xuqlSpNSTnsKRLZxT65BpCzHsp0tS56xmqUW3VLvuBoC6KVpL9QH_rjOLmWoopOM-TeUcTlXnlMfxhSSA/s2048/6.+Leaving.jpg-R.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1164" data-original-width="2048" height="182" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc6fMvW4GBhCnPF4dKtLoiQY8dZOW4vVKpHUio_SuhSlPftZ3uKi5fY4iON1xuqlSpNSTnsKRLZxT65BpCzHsp0tS56xmqUW3VLvuBoC6KVpL9QH_rjOLmWoopOM-TeUcTlXnlMfxhSSA/s320/6.+Leaving.jpg-R.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1" style="font-size: medium;"></span></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span class="Apple-converted-space"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></span></p>
<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Upon returning to Washington it fell to me to draft legislation desired by the Administration to salvage something out of this impending debacle.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The delegation and other members assembled to provide input.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>When no consensus emerged, the final draft was rendered nothing but an accumulation of meaningless phrases.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>No member could be found to introduce it.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></p>
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<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Within a few days Ambassador Dean with his staff, a few high-ranking Khmer officials and others were flown out of Phnom Penh by Marine helicopters.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The Khmer Rouge entered the city and began their reign of terror during which an estimated 1,000,000 Cambodians died, either murdered or from starvation.</span></span></p>
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<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw81hwdCvtI1Z6CukHJ5yUSOq1eM1l6auoFQxPBuumRXrPQjhRHWk0ezhBrg_Z0ScWJtlFxBkJ3VUzDS0n72Cqgxp0duNU5wKqmsTbCzxdDIUFNdmwf8gNHCsGhTycIMr-sJzpwMHFz2I/s306/4.+Sisowath_Sirik_Matak.j-+R+jpg.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="306" data-original-width="260" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw81hwdCvtI1Z6CukHJ5yUSOq1eM1l6auoFQxPBuumRXrPQjhRHWk0ezhBrg_Z0ScWJtlFxBkJ3VUzDS0n72Cqgxp0duNU5wKqmsTbCzxdDIUFNdmwf8gNHCsGhTycIMr-sJzpwMHFz2I/w170-h200/4.+Sisowath_Sirik_Matak.j-+R+jpg.jpg" width="170" /></span></a><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial;">I often look at an elaborately decorated silver box displayed on a table in our living </span></span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">room.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">It was gift from Prince Sirik Matak, then Prime Minister of Cambodia, when I met with him during my 1974 mission.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">Inside is a slip of paper with an excerpt from a letter that he wrote Ambassador Dean near the end:</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><i style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">”I never believed for a moment that you have this sentiment of abandoning a people which has chosen liberty. I have only committed this mistake of believing in you the Americans.” </i><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">Refusing to be evacuated, Sirik Matak was executed by the Khmer Rouge on April 21, 1975.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span></span></p>
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<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">A former U.S. military adviser in Cambodia has said it well:<i> "The downfall of the Khmer Republic not only resulted in the deaths of countless Cambodians, it has also crept into our souls.”</i></span></span></p><p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXhY_1i8JnN0NUFeCazG_j7C03Gd1Z4v13R-aiGajCQB8IhLwcJf2pEm5FTY70mx85oPRk-56Ok4Xb2_7WM_6m89HOKIqyH0FRBY8lwIhsd_Zh0jUCYqh_2iqZRBopqFL3lMdw2GLH1d8/s2048/7.+Khmer+Rouge-+C+.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1340" data-original-width="2048" height="209" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXhY_1i8JnN0NUFeCazG_j7C03Gd1Z4v13R-aiGajCQB8IhLwcJf2pEm5FTY70mx85oPRk-56Ok4Xb2_7WM_6m89HOKIqyH0FRBY8lwIhsd_Zh0jUCYqh_2iqZRBopqFL3lMdw2GLH1d8/s320/7.+Khmer+Rouge-+C+.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div><p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1" style="font-size: medium;"></span></p>
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<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><b>Note</b>:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Because of the nature of the trip I took few photos.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Those of our arrival and departure are mine.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The others are stock photos.</span></span></p><p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p>
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</style>Jack Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01499431800088809848noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4158406346037964376.post-87386500656456696522021-08-14T05:17:00.003-07:002021-12-07T07:09:31.610-08:00Family Stories: Jeremiah Sullivan — America (Part. 2)<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium; letter-spacing: 0px;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">After arriving by ship in America at New York,</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">Jeremiah is known to have left there for work in Chester and Lancaster Counties,</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">Pennsylvania.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">One account says that <i>“He spent five years there in the management of a public highway and in assisting farmers during the harvesting of their crops.” </i></span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">A skeptical interpretation of those occupations might be that Jeremiah was toiling as a road construction worker and a farm hand.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">We can assume that he had very little if any education.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">On a 1837 legal document he signed his name with an “X” indicating that he was illiterate.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">But he was saving his money.</span></span></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">About 1830 Jeremiah,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>who even on legal papers gave his name as “Jerry,” moved west to Sandusky County, Ohio.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He bought 219 acres of government land in Ballville Township,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>near present day Fremont, Ohio.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The selling price was $1.25 an acre. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>By the time he arrived,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Ohio had been a state for 27 years. The opening of the Great Lakes to the markets of the East by the completion of the Erie Canal was sparking<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>economic development. Farm products now could be shipped from Ohio to the East Coast and even overseas. </span></span></p><p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"><br /></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmBqcl9nSWH9d4e4Mn2ChlJEkWL_mQJJWGBBqC71Jeu4ulsm_1lNMaOToZgeInImA-jiQpW-SvccqQ9EeY-oXUWvfXhikPfoB_KizeN1-LVpSuFrVHnq76ASKj5qHD6cnlwPdbbGWgVtI/s380/settlers.jpeg" style="font-family: Times; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="285" data-original-width="380" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmBqcl9nSWH9d4e4Mn2ChlJEkWL_mQJJWGBBqC71Jeu4ulsm_1lNMaOToZgeInImA-jiQpW-SvccqQ9EeY-oXUWvfXhikPfoB_KizeN1-LVpSuFrVHnq76ASKj5qHD6cnlwPdbbGWgVtI/s320/settlers.jpeg" width="320" /></span></a></div><p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"></p>
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<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Nonetheless,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>the countryside at the time of Jeremiah’s arrival was still largely a wilderness. His acreage was covered in trees.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The Irish immigrant worked for months to clear the forest, felling the trees by ax and removing the stumps by shovel and horse-power.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The heavy tasks discouraged many of his compatriots and they returned to Ireland. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>A true pioneer, Jeremiah persevered and eventually cleared his land for farming, keeping a smaller plot for his log house.</span></span></p>
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<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br />Jeremiah’s obituary in the Fremont Journal of October 8, 1875, accounts him as<i> “a</i></span></span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"><i> noble, good hearted-fellow, and by all who knew him was respected....”</i></span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"><i> </i> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">This picture fits family legend of his character.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">One story reveals his strong Catholicism. </span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">Because there was no priest in the settlement at Fremont, the town closest to his farm, Jeremiah was obliged to go to Tiffin,</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">15 miles away to hear Mass.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">As the story goes,</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">there was no real road at the time and he had to make the trip on foot through the untracked forest.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">As a result he could attend Mass only very occasionally.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">But on Christmas, Easter and several Sundays through the year,</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">Jeremiah would make the trip.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">He would set out at midnight with a pine torch and a hatchet,</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">marking his way through the woods on trees that served as guideposts for his return. </span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">He would arrive in Tiffin in the morning in time for Mass,</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">socialize with fellow parishioners into the afternoon,</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">and then begin the long trek home, arriving after dark.</span></span></p>
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<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirn9cDSpeInLhrklX7Q7r8-xxmYk63-NDT67k-I11LQqQEjecQDSMTL9M53irxAwJo7g8L_rO7izNA7AF9TanJnAW19BpJTqiBKdK5JYUNFzf3rCFpFOl3hqpubaEjDRqVY5puf2sPFBY/s435/Man+on+Horse.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="435" data-original-width="305" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirn9cDSpeInLhrklX7Q7r8-xxmYk63-NDT67k-I11LQqQEjecQDSMTL9M53irxAwJo7g8L_rO7izNA7AF9TanJnAW19BpJTqiBKdK5JYUNFzf3rCFpFOl3hqpubaEjDRqVY5puf2sPFBY/w140-h200/Man+on+Horse.jpg" width="140" /></span></a><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial;">Another Jeremiah story is set some years later.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>A man sentenced to be hanged as</span></span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> a horse thief the next day in Fremont asked for a priest to hear his confession. </span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">The nearest priest was in Tiffin and it did not seem possible to meet the doomed man’s request. </span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">But -- according to family legend -- Jeremiah undertook the journey on horseback,</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">leading a second horse over the trail he had helped blaze to Tiffin. </span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">He woke the priest in the middle of the night and together they returned to Fremont in time for the prisoner to receive the sacraments.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span></span></p>
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<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Jeremiah worked as a bachelor farmer on his homestead for almost a decade before marrying. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Somewhere along the line he acquired the nickname, “Irish Jerry.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Family legend says that he was approached one day by his friend Edward King who suggested that he bring to America for the purpose of matrimony, Johanna, King’s sister in Ireland.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Jeremiah is said to have retorted that Johanna was just a little girl. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>King reminded him that it had been 15 years since he had seen her and that Johanna had done some growing in the meantime.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>That not withstanding, however, there still was a substantial difference in their ages<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>-- perhaps as much as 20 years.</span></span></p>
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<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><b>Johanna’s Story</b></span></span></p>
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<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">We cannot know the feelings experienced by our Great-great Grandmother Johanna King upon being told that she was to leave her family to travel to America and marry a much older man she could hardly remember. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Of her background we know only a little. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>She was born in County Kerry in 1817 but apparently her parents relocated in the Parish of Iveleary when she was a child. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Was she a early version of the beautiful Inchigeela lass? <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Upon her death years later a flowery obituary <i>“one of Erin’s dark eyed daughters.”</i> <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></p>
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<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Johanna was in her early twenties when she emigrated, possibly accompanied by one or two other family members. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We can assume she disembarked from her ocean voyage at the port of New York. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>She then proceeded west via the Erie Canal and then to Lake Erie.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>She was met at the dock at Sandusky, Ohio, by her brother Edward King and her future husband who had come there by horse and wagon. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Loading her effects into the wagon,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>they headed back to King’s homestead.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>There Johanna stayed until, not long after, she and Jeremiah were married in the Catholic Church in Tiffin.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Then she joined her new husband on his farm.</span></span></p><p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH7Vz4i5lY23t-vwGa0bcNQuEWrQp2ToAE8lFIVp7V_5ETfsYfwEpdEFX6Y2wLdHUaTFd_YeIYKZhUn7R6fe8-gsZDJCx9pfMQoCy3mJhHjGuhENqaqF4aATWcLh1usx-GmuVhi0pmKCU/s640/web1_pioneer-homestead.jpg" style="font-family: Times; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="498" data-original-width="640" height="249" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH7Vz4i5lY23t-vwGa0bcNQuEWrQp2ToAE8lFIVp7V_5ETfsYfwEpdEFX6Y2wLdHUaTFd_YeIYKZhUn7R6fe8-gsZDJCx9pfMQoCy3mJhHjGuhENqaqF4aATWcLh1usx-GmuVhi0pmKCU/s320/web1_pioneer-homestead.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1" style="font-size: medium;"></span></p>
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<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Despite the arranged nature of their marriage and a considerable difference in age, their union appears to have been a loving one,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>attested to by her bearing 13 children,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>of whom several died in infancy.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>One of those who survived was grandfather,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Florence Sullivan, born in 1845.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></p>
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<p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Jeremiah died in 1875.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>As noted, his exact age was in some doubt. Johanna would live 12 years beyond his passing to be 78 years old and accounted upon her death in 1897 as one of the oldest residents of Sandusky County.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The headline on her obituary read:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“Was a Pioneer Woman.” <i>“That section of the country was at the time a vast wilderness,”</i><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>said the Fremont News,<i> “and Mrs. Sullivan experienced all the hardships, trials and tribulations of early pioneer life.”</i><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>[End of Part 2]</span></span></p><p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p class="p1" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><style type="text/css">
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</style>Jack Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01499431800088809848noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4158406346037964376.post-2634505356554300962021-07-31T05:28:00.002-07:002021-12-07T07:07:57.336-08:00 Family Stories: Jeremiah Sullivan (Part 1: Ireland)<p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></p>
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<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">While Irish immigration frequently is identified with the millions who came to the U.S. as a result of the Great Famine,</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">the reality is that many Irish made the trip across the Atlantic well in advance of that tragedy.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">Among them were our Sullivan ancestors.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">These folks were established in the U.S. before the famine and well in time for the American Civil War.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">We must be in awe of these Irish ancestors who pulled up stakes in their native land,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>bid goodbye to relatives they would never see again, and headed deep into the wilderness untamed in a country unknown. In understanding what motivated these forbearers and their exodus from Ireland, we begin with the patriarch of our branch of Sullivans.</span></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The Origins of “Irish Jerry”</span></span></p>
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<p class="p2"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Jeremiah “Jerry” Sullivan,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>our great-great grandfather, was born in Ireland in the 1790s. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>His precise birth year is in question. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In the 1870 census,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>he is listed as having been born in 1798 but in a 1896 biography it is given as 1791 - a substantial difference. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Trying to validate one or the other dates through internal evidence only compounds the confusion.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It is possible that even his children were uncertain of his age. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>When he died in 1875, for example, a newspaper obituary vaguely pegged him as “at the advanced age from eighty to ninety years.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></p><p class="p2"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP_sC38dvz9BISbw7o6egoT0NPiJDmXqB8rxN7QvG2MPJFAZkQaYUMBt8251IqmIYeof1ZNJRT89UAVKPape9hibMTMKg9y8CgdnMuqSGIQs5pHB-3R_PlEPyjUBgEx2m7ydWPICsmiX8/s473/Map.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="309" data-original-width="473" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP_sC38dvz9BISbw7o6egoT0NPiJDmXqB8rxN7QvG2MPJFAZkQaYUMBt8251IqmIYeof1ZNJRT89UAVKPape9hibMTMKg9y8CgdnMuqSGIQs5pHB-3R_PlEPyjUBgEx2m7ydWPICsmiX8/w400-h262/Map.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><p class="p2"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></span></p>
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<p class="p2"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial;">Jeremiah’s birthplace was in County Cork in the south of Ireland, a region known as</span></span><span style="font-family: arial;">Labels: Jeremiah Sullivan, Ivleary, Inchigeela, Whiteboys Rebels, Rocktites, Immigration from Ireland</span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> Iveleary, literally the Valley of the Learys. </span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">Iveleary was the Roman Catholic parish designation. </span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">The civil locality was called Inchigeela after the central municipality of the area.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">Parishes were the original unit of administration in Ireland and were used right up to the end of the 19th Century.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">Thus,</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">Jeremiah’s tombstone gives his birthplace as “Iveleary.”</span></span></p>
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<p class="p2"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The name Sullivan is the third most common in Ireland, ranking behind only Kelly and Murphy. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>A 1978 booklet estimated that there were then 41,500 bearers of the name -- including variants like O’Sullivan -- resident in Ireland.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It is the most common name in County Cork.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The booklet suggests that there were perhaps 10 times that number of Sullivans living throughout the world. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>My father often boasted that there were more Sullivans in the Boston telephone directory than Smiths.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>A check made of that claim a few years ago showed he was right.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Sullivan today is said to be the 41st most common name in the U.S.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In the original Gaelic the name is “Suilleabhain,”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>whose meaning variously is given as hawk-eyed, black-eyed or one-eyed.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Of the latter interpretation,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>the story is of a clan king who was so generous that he gave away one of his own eyes to a blind man.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He obviously was a man far ahead of his time in surgical procedures.</span></span></p>
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<p class="p2"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">According to heraldic books,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>the Sullivans/O’Sullivans were members of one of the principal families of the race of Eogan (Owen) of Munster who held power in Cork,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Kerry and most of Tipperary. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The three lines of the family and their territories were O’Sullivan Beara (Bantry and the Beare Peninsula),<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>O’Sullivan Mor (Dunkerron and Kenmare),<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>and O’Sullivan Cnoc Raffan (Tipperary). <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It is impossible to know which of these three strains were in Jeremiah’s blood.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The motto of the Sullivans in Gaelic reads: “Lamb foistenach abu.” <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>That translates to “The steady hand to victory.”</span></span></p>
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<p class="p2"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Of Jeremiah’s immediate family we know almost nothing, not even the names of his parents or siblings.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Family legend has it that the Sullivans were farmers of some substance -- the information coming from a former “hand” on their farm. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>My father was always skeptical of such claims,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>noting that Ireland was so poor in those days that even ownership of a cow might be deemed wealth.</span></span></p>
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<p class="p2"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Trouble in the Valley of the Learys</span></span></p>
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<p class="p2"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The countryside around Inchigeela is some of Ireland’s most beautiful.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Nearby is Gougane Barra, a 1,000-acre wooded park surrounded on three sides with mountains and the fourth open to allow the headwaters of the River Lee rise and flow from a stunning blue lake of springs. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>St. Finbarr’s Oratory is located there, a round one-story structure open at the center to a cross with beehive like cells for the individual monks.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Gougane Barra also is known for a holy well (curative waters)<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>and a beautiful stone chapel dedicated to St. Finbarr, a companion of St. Patrick and patron saint of Cork.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></p><p class="p2"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_9euJpMyKLfZ84ruRJT8OSMm0yT4FG46Uwq68m5nfQQtZcaodov4ggu_VxVJcWzwjWfArFNuyKcJ-OYTqH8wUVnvRpRfrJCqi8PWj71m06QFuYQlGJFWHhGkmDWzzUvG_VyFqJQo5c6Q/s480/FB_IMG_1604470686343-colorized.jpg" style="font-family: Times; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="252" data-original-width="480" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_9euJpMyKLfZ84ruRJT8OSMm0yT4FG46Uwq68m5nfQQtZcaodov4ggu_VxVJcWzwjWfArFNuyKcJ-OYTqH8wUVnvRpRfrJCqi8PWj71m06QFuYQlGJFWHhGkmDWzzUvG_VyFqJQo5c6Q/w400-h210/FB_IMG_1604470686343-colorized.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><p class="p2"><span class="s1" style="font-size: medium;"></span></p>
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<p class="p2"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Inchigeela, meaning “Inch of the Hostage”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>is in a region of Ireland with a reputation for violence. It is shown above in the 19th Century.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Secret societies of Catholic Irish agricultural workers, usually youths in their 20s and even teenagers,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>known generically as “Whiteboys,”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>were on the rise there during Jeremiah’s boyhood.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>They robbed and burned and sometimes even killed, reputedly as a protest against injustices to Catholics.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Poverty and famine, occasioned by a Cork crop failure in 1822,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>may have been the proximate cause of their violent outbreaks, but required tithing to the established Protestant Church and confiscatory rents for land were perennial irritants.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The Whiteboys also may have been encouraged by a widely-believed contemporary prophecy that Catholics would overthrow Protestants in Ireland by the end of 1824. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Because of continuing unrest,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>County Cork was under English martial law for most of the 1820s.</span></span></p><p class="p2"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg6ZcAG8oT-G2YbTqOyl23ZSpUMwWGB54J6Ge2kt2MaLjoFWgfawsBjWwMXPYXvtiMYFvDNWuCuXMqsujrTuTKGe6EM3VMpXFJU9XF_52OdGKJsRdSH0eEmTyYknmRVgIKmRYvTgjXkdw/s400/friesreb-59f99cfa6f53ba00113df75b.jpg" style="font-family: Times; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="160" data-original-width="400" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg6ZcAG8oT-G2YbTqOyl23ZSpUMwWGB54J6Ge2kt2MaLjoFWgfawsBjWwMXPYXvtiMYFvDNWuCuXMqsujrTuTKGe6EM3VMpXFJU9XF_52OdGKJsRdSH0eEmTyYknmRVgIKmRYvTgjXkdw/w400-h160/friesreb-59f99cfa6f53ba00113df75b.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><p class="p2"><span class="s1" style="font-size: medium;"></span></p>
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<p class="p2"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEingH2uOk17P9-EanN01rq7ov2UHdcQgpT9Qp16NPCiJau91XSVlavbK-gKn_FdUX75pD4NFkvrpYOfUxbQO1etUt96z92jMMzN4PVGzRG1rJzeMCRCrOjYl2zIzwK4U9Np9xuXtOHZ11Q/s350/R.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="350" data-original-width="241" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEingH2uOk17P9-EanN01rq7ov2UHdcQgpT9Qp16NPCiJau91XSVlavbK-gKn_FdUX75pD4NFkvrpYOfUxbQO1etUt96z92jMMzN4PVGzRG1rJzeMCRCrOjYl2zIzwK4U9Np9xuXtOHZ11Q/w138-h200/R.jpg" width="138" /></span></a><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial;">In early January of 1822,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>when Jeremiah was a youth, skirmishes were fought at the Pass of Keimaneigh (the Deer’s Pass) that marks the boundary between Counties Cork and Kerry.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The fight was between a group of Cork Whiteboys known as Rockites and a force of gentry yeoman led by Lord Bantry.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Combatants were killed and wounded on both sides.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>A famous poem in Irish commemorates the fight and the spirit of the untrained locals who challenged the King’s militia.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>On January 25 three more incidents occurred,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>one close to Inchigeela when<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Rockites attacked and torched the home of one of Lord Bantry’s officers who had fought them at Keimaneigh.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>By February, however,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>the British had reinforced their troops in the county and had implemented an Insurrection Act enforcing the martial law.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Rockite </span></span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">prisoners were sentenced to death and hanged in public executions in several Cork towns.</span></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Although County Cork and Inchigeela were generally calm for a time after the quashing of the Rockite Rebellion,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>the region remained a recruiting ground for rebels.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In the next century,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>a Fenian member called Harold Delaney would escape British capture in the Inchigeela church by dressing as a woman.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He later memorialized the event in a well-known Irish poem.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>One stanza captures the spirit of the place:</span></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>“Like all the boys along the Lee I joined a rebel band,</span></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“And pledged myself to freedom’s cause for dear old motherland,</span></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>“An outlaw, I was chased from Cork to Keimaneigh’s famed Pass,</span></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“And forced to fee from Erin’s Lee and my Inchigeela Lass.”</span></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br />While it is impossible to know what impelled young Jeremiah Sullivan to leave Ireland, it is possible to speculate that his departure somehow was the result of a disturbance that occurred around 1824.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>When tax collectors for the British occupiers rode into the area on horseback from Cork City,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>they were met by an outraged populace who hurled rocks at them.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The tax collectors retreated but returned in several weeks,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>this time accompanied by soldiers.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In a short time the uprising was quelled and three men were tried and sent to the gallows. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Two of them were named Sullivan.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>(Interestingly,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>the name of the hanging magistrate also was Sullivan).</span></span></p>
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<p class="p2"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg03-gk_Ttgl_B-XJgXa3GpAbEmkDVTQ5DJ8Tj84iRQm-JJBFZmtkJqYkuMeLB9-F7wDmzSKpapa6tjfFQiBH5YabGmL6_89pL8xdBhvx-Bf0gFLrtwnGVSGXywlvPrLtz-7M56Fg_PMK8/s251/Ship+to+US.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="251" data-original-width="195" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg03-gk_Ttgl_B-XJgXa3GpAbEmkDVTQ5DJ8Tj84iRQm-JJBFZmtkJqYkuMeLB9-F7wDmzSKpapa6tjfFQiBH5YabGmL6_89pL8xdBhvx-Bf0gFLrtwnGVSGXywlvPrLtz-7M56Fg_PMK8/w155-h200/Ship+to+US.jpg" width="155" /></span></a><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">We can speculate that the hanged Sullivans may have been relatives of Jeremiah’s family.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It also possible that he himself played a role in the uprising.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Or there may also have been pressures on him as a young Catholic laborer to join a Whiteboys society. There is no way to be sure of his motives for emigrating.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>But we do know that not long after after the rebellion had been put down, Jeremiah was on a ship bound for New York City.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Unfortunately,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>research has not revealed anything about the name of the ship or the events of his passage. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He may have been accompanied by Edward King,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>his friend and future brother-in-law.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Jeremiah never returned to Ireland. </span></span></p><p class="p2"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> [End of Part One.]</span></span></p><p class="p2"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p class="p2"><br /></p>
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<p class="p1"><span class="s1"></span><br /></p>Jack Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01499431800088809848noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4158406346037964376.post-27444168341694622342021-07-17T05:01:00.002-07:002022-07-07T08:44:20.475-07:00 Remembering Favorite Motion Pictures<p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></p>
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<p class="p2"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"><i>Foreword:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></i></b><i style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> In the past I have used this blog to record memories of my favorite things over these many years of life, including soda pop (Aug. 14, 2014), candy and gum (June 6, 2015), comic books (Aug. 29, 2015), hotels (March 26, 2016), eateries (Jan. 13, 2017), and radio programs (Nov. 11, 2017). <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It occurs to me that a list of favorite movies is in order in a similar march down memory lane.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I have chosen to concentrate on just five, based partially on the criteria that I have seen them multiple times and would do so again.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I have added a “second tier” with short comments</i><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">.</span></span></p>
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<p class="p1"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><b>Casablanca (1942):</b><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Let me join the millions of fans of this movie who consider it the best ever made.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The story, the acting, and particularly the memorable lines keep running through my mind.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In 1942 when it first was released, I was only seven years old and it was much too “adult” to be taken to see it.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In ensuing years, however, I have viewed it at least a dozen times and see new things to like each time.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>For instance the symbolism of Rick hiding the “letters of transit” (truly mystery documents) in the piano.</span></span></p>
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<p class="p1"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1xrPMswK-k99i0qADpd6Vb9jEdTGuj_1-2z2zBrP7ITd0VfU5CyXci321bsSG1q5kLOj6vx1aO8sIbzoKqRN0HyJbeRZAkPyKJQig4fZ_iVn7xIy6P0-s8V0D4jy0n1FHpPrUhsRxM4A/s1600/R.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="901" data-original-width="1600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1xrPMswK-k99i0qADpd6Vb9jEdTGuj_1-2z2zBrP7ITd0VfU5CyXci321bsSG1q5kLOj6vx1aO8sIbzoKqRN0HyJbeRZAkPyKJQig4fZ_iVn7xIy6P0-s8V0D4jy0n1FHpPrUhsRxM4A/s320/R.jpg" width="320" /></span></a><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The scene I can watch over and over is the final one when Rick (Humphrey Bogart) shoots the Nazi major just as Moroccan Police Chief Renault (Claude Raines) arrives on the scene knowing the killer but phoning his headquarters to “round up the usual suspects.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Up to that time Renault’s sympathies have been ambiguous but he signals his anti-German feeling in one brief shot where he picks up a bottle labeled “Vichy water,” Vichy being the name of the Nazi puppet government established in Southern France.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Without a word he disdainfully drops the bottle into a waste basket, letting us know he is one of the good guys.</span></span></p>
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<p class="p1"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVKiRmVdsFXvrBjUpaFxxQbM7l1lKIMre5xIHuIkoWaqQtHMnB1gcnprCZsbptfp9AoU4wRWbecF1DFxlu4WpgY8SNTRp0F_TbLPz7XbLpVN2E5BNMgNSOqi22Bp_r_37oRY9wNN5VHiA/s330/220px-Road_to_Morocco_%25281942_poster%2529.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="330" data-original-width="220" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVKiRmVdsFXvrBjUpaFxxQbM7l1lKIMre5xIHuIkoWaqQtHMnB1gcnprCZsbptfp9AoU4wRWbecF1DFxlu4WpgY8SNTRp0F_TbLPz7XbLpVN2E5BNMgNSOqi22Bp_r_37oRY9wNN5VHiA/s320/220px-Road_to_Morocco_%25281942_poster%2529.jpg" /></span></a><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b>The Crosby-Hope “Road” Movies:</b><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Not just one movie but seven made between </span></span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">1940 and 1962.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">One could argue that since each proceeded on the same formula, expected by the audience, they meld into one.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">These make the list as a holdover from my childhood when these films were considered family fare.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">Where ever the road was going, from Singapore or Morocco or the Yukon, Bing Crosby was the wise guy, who sang a song to two, and always seemed to get the girl.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">Bob Hope was the ignorant foil for his buddy, always in trouble.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">The pair were teamed with Dorothy Lamour (born Mary Leta Slaton) who sang in each movie and whose acting skills were not her best asset.</span></span></p>
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<p class="p1"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">These motion pictures opened up the silver screen to new techniques.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>For example, beginning with “Road to Singapore” the films also included in-joke references to other Hollywood actors and jabs at Paramount Pictures, the studio that released the films. There are also frequent instances in which Bob Hope breaks the so-called “fourth wall” to address the audience directly, such as in “Road to Bali,” in which he says, <i>"[Crosby]'s gonna sing, folks. Now's the time to go out and get the popcorn.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></i> They paved the way for actor/directors like Woody Allen in “Annie Hall.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>One of my favorite bits was a paddy-cake routine between the two when they were about to escape capture by slugging their assailants.</span></span></p>
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<p class="p1"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><b>High Society (1956).<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></b>With a lifelong “soft spot” for movie musicals, this one takes top spot in the many times I have watched it.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>There are a number of treasured scenes from the opening number with “Satchmo” Armstrong singing on a bus with his band, to Grace Kelly’s greeting of two unwanted journalists, and the iconic moments on the sailing yacht as Bing Crosby and Kelly sing “True Love.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"><br /></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdE2dQxUuQYCetvyt9HHdsz1Vs-I3IZsc0eAMr2kHpC_OX7qPgG92dflXp6mI1vnN3_Ff6XrJk8nrTSE2-Q4K9Bg3ZnSISBmSX6SmlExPjtSe8a4rxREmP5CpHWDOp28qWdxd9sBq_lH4/s1600/High%252BSociety%252B9.jpg" style="font-family: Times; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1222" data-original-width="1600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdE2dQxUuQYCetvyt9HHdsz1Vs-I3IZsc0eAMr2kHpC_OX7qPgG92dflXp6mI1vnN3_Ff6XrJk8nrTSE2-Q4K9Bg3ZnSISBmSX6SmlExPjtSe8a4rxREmP5CpHWDOp28qWdxd9sBq_lH4/s320/High%252BSociety%252B9.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><p class="p1"><span class="s2" style="font-size: medium;"></span></p>
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<p class="p1"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">My favorite scene occurs, however, in the library of Kelly’s palatial home.</span></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">There, having escaped a boring society party, Frank Sinatra, a reporter, and Crosby, a wealthy jazz enthusiast, find each other in escape.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>They sing a duet called “Did You Ever?” that ends each verse with “what a swell party this is.”</span></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The interplay of these two major singing stars might have been difficult to pull off but these two do it seamlessly.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>There is even a bow to the “out of box” moments of<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>the Road pictures when Crosby remarks on Sinatra’s “newer” way of crooning.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>When the the men finally emerge arm in arm from the library to the party it is a moment of sheer triumph over boredom.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></p>
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<p class="p1"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><b>Young Frankenstein (1974):<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></b> Of all the Mel Brooks-made movies, his best to my mind is this riff on the old Mary Shelley story, shot in black-and-white as were all the old movies based around the mad doctor and his monster.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Brooks “deconstructs” the original story and rebuilds it around a doctor who is an American descendant of the original Frankenstein.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Gene Wilder pays the lead role with a comedic intensity that displays true genius.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The surrounding cast is superb and Brook’s writing and directing mean non-stop laughter.</span></span></p>
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<p class="p1"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIZMpAhci0GSFjSj2sTljeJ2x247jsxrHMCXVNm_m7LHI1sslYtPnbQrlYNIvVIF1Kqi_REoHCTyKk51Slv6YyWrWYWjK1rHAEFBKBhqJ9_X-sy5diCp9CLA3_qC4K8SPhSh5HQoMmMsk/s582/YOUNG+FRANK..jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="582" data-original-width="574" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIZMpAhci0GSFjSj2sTljeJ2x247jsxrHMCXVNm_m7LHI1sslYtPnbQrlYNIvVIF1Kqi_REoHCTyKk51Slv6YyWrWYWjK1rHAEFBKBhqJ9_X-sy5diCp9CLA3_qC4K8SPhSh5HQoMmMsk/w198-h200/YOUNG+FRANK..jpg" width="198" /></span></a><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">My favorite scene is the interplay of Wilder as young Frankenstein and Cloris Leachman who is eerily brilliant as “Frau Blucher,” the keeper of Frankenstein’s castle.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We are introduced to her before she is seen by the frantic neighing and stomping of horses each time her name is mentioned.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Frau Blucher gradually tempts the skeptical Wilder into the dark secrets of his ancestor.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>My favorite scene between them is Leachman playing a violin and leading Young F. to Dr. Frankenstein’s attic laboratory while intoning:<i> “He vas my boyfriend.”</i></span></span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s2"><b>Tootsie (1982):<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></b> Of a spate of comedies in which men play the part of women (“Some Like It Hot,” “Mrs. Doubtfire) my favorite is “Tootsie.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It is the story of a down and out actor who succeeds in getting a starring role in a daytime serial dressed as a woman.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The part is played by Dustin Hoffman, one of the master actors of the last fifty years.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The supporting cast is excellent.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I fell in love with </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Jessica Lange at first sight.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Teri Garr stars in this movie as she did in “Young </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Frankenstein.”</span></span></p><p class="p1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><br /></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEzk6ajVhrQyupYAM3MAwlXy5fghmqWAx7DM5fq3tkn-IQK-L6r9l0Kute9roBYlXk8-35pyzO8XaxnZV9-OKaEgC36Rh2Zgl6dDEqLnM5nWGEI5Q9KGqb0A_uliIDT4cRxuO7qHHNBLM/s381/TOOTSIE+ON+STAIR.jpg" style="font-family: Times; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="162" data-original-width="381" height="170" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEzk6ajVhrQyupYAM3MAwlXy5fghmqWAx7DM5fq3tkn-IQK-L6r9l0Kute9roBYlXk8-35pyzO8XaxnZV9-OKaEgC36Rh2Zgl6dDEqLnM5nWGEI5Q9KGqb0A_uliIDT4cRxuO7qHHNBLM/w400-h170/TOOTSIE+ON+STAIR.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><p class="p1"></p>
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<p class="p1"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">My favorite moment in this picture is the d<i>enouement </i>when Tootsie/Hoffman descends a staircase as the live screened show is rolling to disclose that he is not “Emily” but Edward, Emily's twin brother who took her place to avenge her.</span></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Watching the man who became a woman become a man again before a startled cast and<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>assumed viewing public is delicious.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Hoffman does his striptease with infinite skill, worth watching again and again.</span></span></p>
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<p class="p1"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbfTJVo5ZScgNV_f7tzv40MoakB8mW3ox_hSI4xbkJNFIYMYWuhjsTP9RxeFV_gc1_ysVGl3GhOxuboZ6EsTGxHm8sJy5OrXWW7omIaQYkF6jwgwAo24U0taJlia2VFpZDSiM2PBsoA-w/s916/Eva+Marie+Saint.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="916" data-original-width="634" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbfTJVo5ZScgNV_f7tzv40MoakB8mW3ox_hSI4xbkJNFIYMYWuhjsTP9RxeFV_gc1_ysVGl3GhOxuboZ6EsTGxHm8sJy5OrXWW7omIaQYkF6jwgwAo24U0taJlia2VFpZDSiM2PBsoA-w/w138-h200/Eva+Marie+Saint.jpg" width="138" /></span></a><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: arial;">As part of a “second tier,” I will mention three movies briefly.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><b>“Beat the Devil” (1953)</b></span></span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">is a spoof of spy films directed by John Huston with an all-star cast that includes Bogart, Jennifer Jones, Gina Lollobrigida, Robert Morley, and Peter Lorre (also in Casablanca).</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">Alfred Hitchcock’s </span><b style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">“North by Northwest” (1959) </b><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">is memorable to me not for the iconic scenes of Cary Grant chased by an airplane or scrambling over Mt. Rushmore, but for the stunning beauty of Eva Marie Saint in a scene where he meets her in a dining car. (She is living, 97 years old.) Last, the Coen Brothers </span><b style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">“O<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Brother Where Art Thou?”(2001), </b><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">a film chronicling the misadventures of George Clooney and two other convicts on the lam amid an avalanche of hilllbilly music. </span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span></span></p>
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<p class="p2"><span class="s2"></span><br /></p>Jack Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01499431800088809848noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4158406346037964376.post-37156699493229470362021-07-03T06:51:00.002-07:002021-12-07T07:04:44.351-08:00Family Stories: Eugene Boyer in the Civil War<p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p>
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<p class="p1"><i><span class="s1" style="font-size: large;"><b>Foreword:</b><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The family can only count one Civil War soldier among direct ancestors.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He is Eugene Boyer, a shoemaker by trade, who lived from 1842 to<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span><span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">1892.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">He saw considerable combat, was wounded once and hospitalized but returned to duty and served out the war. The records of Eugene's service and of the movements and battles of the Wisconsin 20th infantry make possible a reasonably detailed account of his Civil War experience.</span></i></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p2"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBnOPzp4Yi-o7xuTVOKBAutGUcL9bPKFlQQkFVNiXhe-wkdl8HEx1uDcwNxQ26ewF3eCdRlBbx2G_Cm20bJ-V7aiTMnVIofhzVo9IjCL047uwZRDqdeVZm1nrldEUSNwiCaBI9zLc4IYk/s500/20th+Wis.+Infantry.jpg-R.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; font-size: large; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="500" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBnOPzp4Yi-o7xuTVOKBAutGUcL9bPKFlQQkFVNiXhe-wkdl8HEx1uDcwNxQ26ewF3eCdRlBbx2G_Cm20bJ-V7aiTMnVIofhzVo9IjCL047uwZRDqdeVZm1nrldEUSNwiCaBI9zLc4IYk/w200-h200/20th+Wis.+Infantry.jpg-R.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="s1"><span>Eugene Boyer was approximately 17 years old when the Civil War broke out.</span></span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span></span><span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">He joined the fight two years later when he was 19 by enlisting as a private in Company K of the 20th Regiment Wisconsin Volunteer Infantry.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">At the time,</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">he was newly married.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">We have Eugene’s original enlistment papers which fail to record his age but note that he joined on August 13, 1862, for a period of three years or the end of the war, whichever came first.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">He joined at Madison, the Wisconsin state capital.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">For so doing he immediately received a $215 bonus and one month’s advance pay, amount unspecified.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">Eugene was part of a new unit organized as part of a levy of some 18,000 men Wisconsin was to supply to the war effort by order of President Lincoln.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">The new regiment was officially mustered 10 days later on August 23 with a formal communication from Wisconsin Governor Salomon to Secretary of War Stanton.</span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>The Battle of Prairie Grove</b></span></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p2"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPCdCpaLoke-uQM8zfjIbavAOe4O_v4C3C9M3ii-C7U4LzTJ16t1VnnFJuvBAUS3fW5E9jJNk3x7DDPleWu5_RLDliNn84wSNTGnFgMSL9ptNz6mcgXwzNEeMjjbcSXFpzWWmOJ1iek1U/s300/300px-Benton_Barracks%252C_Parade.+jpg+L.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; font-size: large; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="242" data-original-width="300" height="161" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPCdCpaLoke-uQM8zfjIbavAOe4O_v4C3C9M3ii-C7U4LzTJ16t1VnnFJuvBAUS3fW5E9jJNk3x7DDPleWu5_RLDliNn84wSNTGnFgMSL9ptNz6mcgXwzNEeMjjbcSXFpzWWmOJ1iek1U/w200-h161/300px-Benton_Barracks%252C_Parade.+jpg+L.jpg" width="200" /></a><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;">Private Eugene Boyer’s regiment was mobilized in quick order.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Detailed records of its movements show the Wisconsin 20th leaving the state on August 30 for St. Louis, Mo., presumably by train. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>They moved to Benton Barracks two days later, where the raw troops were given some rudimentary training,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>and thence to Rolla,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Missouri. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In September the regiment marched to Springfield and from there to Cassville, Missouri, then over the Boston Mountains to Cross Hollows.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The 20th saw its first combat in December 1862 at the Battle of Prairie Grove, Arkansas.</span></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;">This battle was part of a campaign by both sides to control the land west of the Mississippi River. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It took place at a crossroads in northwestern Arkansas not far from present day Fayetteville.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Confederate forces had sought to destroy two divisions of the Union Army of the Frontier before they could link up and join forces. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The rebels attacked between the two divisions<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>and achieved initial gains.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>They then established their line of battle on a wooded high ridge. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Two Union assaults in which the Wisconsin 20th participated were repulsed. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>At nightfall neither side had won but the Confederates retreated during the dark giving the Union forces a strategic victory and helping establishing Union control of Arkansas.</span></span></p><p class="p2"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"><br /></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOjjVwt-B7lTDWmADeGLO42nn9FCxkqi2etKTAh_3lok2gsQKtvpGDEV2b9_KlQJusZIn8Pt2IdD0UW2qCU_-MHjOzHy8TJEnYZds4fudIZsPwvo4KuybmSGfLh9hiMN_DXOM-VMgRUqI/s575/battle-of-prairie-grove.jpg-+C.jpg" style="font-size: large; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="356" data-original-width="575" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOjjVwt-B7lTDWmADeGLO42nn9FCxkqi2etKTAh_3lok2gsQKtvpGDEV2b9_KlQJusZIn8Pt2IdD0UW2qCU_-MHjOzHy8TJEnYZds4fudIZsPwvo4KuybmSGfLh9hiMN_DXOM-VMgRUqI/w400-h248/battle-of-prairie-grove.jpg-+C.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p class="p2"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span><span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;">The 20th Wisconsin had acquitted itself well.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Following a forced march over the mountains to come to the aid of beleaguered Union troops, the regiment had been in the forefront of the assault on enemy lines and<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>captured one Confederate battery before a counterattack forced it back down the hill.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Its color bearer was killed but others carried the banner to safety.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In his report to headquarters,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Gen. Francis Herron, the division commander, said:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“I ordered the infantry to charge the enemy’s batteries. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The Nineteenth Iowa and the Twentieth Wisconsin did it gallantly.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>A subsequent communique noted, however, that the 20th Wisconsin had “suffered severely.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It sustained the highest casualty counts among the regiments.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Total casualties in the battle were about even between the contending forces, with the Union reporting 1,251 killed or wounded.</span></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Vicksburg and Yazoo City</b></span></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;">From his Union Army pay records, it appears that after the Prairie Grove battle and by early 1863 Eugene was out of action and in the hospital suffering from what later was recorded as measles and mumps leading to chronic diarrhea.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He is listed as residing in a hospital in Springfield, Mo., in January and February,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>in Fayetteville, Ark., in March, and back in Springfield in April.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>By May 1863, however, Eugene had returned to Company K just in time to take part in one of the pivotal battles of the war --<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>the siege of Vicksburg. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In his book The Final Fortress: the Campaign for Vicksburg, 1862-1863, historian Samuel Carter III says:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“Of all military operations of the Civil War, none was more important than the campaign for the Mississippi Valley which culminated in the siege of Vicksburg in the spring and summer of 1863.</span></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p2"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW05Tt38lK-OOw5os23fFA2kyY36Z_GLkuhRuNs6-ucrlXfGq7uAcck_FlXyp4k-yULU3easQPYGC80_lu5BQTKdcoh8ytR-YlVrOmwLFkN8K8Oy39nVZqn8rgG98rRRgiq8dG3ljepD0/s2048/Grant+Vicksburg.jpg+R.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; font-size: large; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1406" data-original-width="2048" height="221" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW05Tt38lK-OOw5os23fFA2kyY36Z_GLkuhRuNs6-ucrlXfGq7uAcck_FlXyp4k-yULU3easQPYGC80_lu5BQTKdcoh8ytR-YlVrOmwLFkN8K8Oy39nVZqn8rgG98rRRgiq8dG3ljepD0/w320-h221/Grant+Vicksburg.jpg+R.jpg" width="320" /></a><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;">At this point the 20th Wisconsin was attached to General Herron’s Division, </span></span><span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">13th Army Corps, of the Union Army of the Tennessee.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">Its senior commander was Ulysses S. Grant,</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">a distant cousin of Eugene.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">The 13th</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">Corps arrived below Vicksburg on June 13, as the Union siege was entering its final phase.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">The regiment, Eugene among them, took up positions at the extreme left of the line. </span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">The men were spread over three miles and in a version of trench warfare gradually edged forward until by June 25 they were only 600 feet from Confederate fortifications.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">When the Confederate surrender came on July 4,</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">the 20th Wisconsin was among the Union force deployed to occupy the city and its defenses.</span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;">Within a matter of days Eugene and the 20th Wisconsin were on the move again. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>This time Grant ordered General Herron and his 13th Corps to take Yazoo City,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Miss., about 50 miles up the Yazoo River from Vickburg.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Using riverboats and accompanied by the Union Navy with an ironclad called the DeKalb,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Herron’s troops attacked the strategically placed town and its defenses. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The 20th Wisconsin once more distinguished itself in battle.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>As the Confederate defenders retreated from the town,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>the regiment followed them for ten miles,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>capturing a number of prisoners and forcing the Confederate troops to abandon wagons and a gun carriage.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Union forces suffered no casualties during this brief engagement but the DeKalb was sunk by a floating mine.</span></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p1"><b style="font-size: large; letter-spacing: 0px;">Eugene Joins the Pioneer Corps</b></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p2"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0Su-ffeiWK9axRqzuLizygFX90THQ2E7kpuXSY0gJH8MduQTMRmXnK3A4XZ0wBLJwDbu6IboQwGpcljZnT_GznERkiZZTsS9kNKea4GfJH8z8UN5c0YGuvVN7p7v3-p6TtEOqpM3bO5o/s584/+Pioneers-+L.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; font-size: large; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="584" data-original-width="389" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0Su-ffeiWK9axRqzuLizygFX90THQ2E7kpuXSY0gJH8MduQTMRmXnK3A4XZ0wBLJwDbu6IboQwGpcljZnT_GznERkiZZTsS9kNKea4GfJH8z8UN5c0YGuvVN7p7v3-p6TtEOqpM3bO5o/w213-h320/+Pioneers-+L.jpg" width="213" /></a><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;">After the fall of Yazoo City,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Gen. Herron’s troops were engaged in a number of forays against Confederate strongholds in Mississippi and Louisiana. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>On September 5,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>by order of the general,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Eugene Boyer was separated from Company K of the 20th Wisconsin and chosen to be part of the Division Pioneer Corps, equivalent to today’s combat engineers. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>These units were organized by choosing about 20 men from each regiment. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Among their duties were cutting trees,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>making roads for the army,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>laying down bridges,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>repairing railroads and constructing artillery batteries. Those serving in the Corps wore a special emblem of two crossed axes on their uniforms.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The involvement of a division commander in the selection process suggests that being picked for service in the Pioneer Corps was something of an honor. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>As a result,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>however, we cannot be sure of Eugene’s whereabouts from September 1863 until he officially rejoined his unit some 10 months later.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1"><span class="Apple-converted-space"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;">During most of that time the 20th Wisconsin was in the vicinity of Brownsville,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Texas,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>part of the Union force garrisoning the area.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It made at least one foray from that base when, in January 1864, it joined an expeditionary force that crossed the Rio Grande to Matamoras,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Mexico, to protect the United States Consul there and assist in the removal of property belonging to American citizens.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In February Gen. Herron was reporting to Union headquarters that the 20th Wisconsin has been depleted by death, wounds and disease to just 253 “effective” men.</span></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;">Battle of Mobile Bay</span></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;">Still the Wisconsin troops found no rest, nor presumably did Eugene Boyer. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Still a private,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Eugene is recorded in pay records as having returned to Company K of the 20th Wisconsin in July 1864,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>probably at Brownsville. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In early August the regiment was on the move again,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>this time to Carrollton, Ala.,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>a small town near Tuscaloosa,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>and from there to the vicinity of Mobile, Alabama. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>By August 9 it was engaged in the Battle of Mobile Bay.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>This operation combined Union naval and army forces in a concerted effort to close the bay to Confederate ships involved in running the Union blockade of Gulf Coast ports.</span></span></p><p class="p2"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBNudVKum3tGzp_VX58ZoD1Qx56zN5Upqk1XDLQOZt3oyhbVC9tc4_L1iLRQM2AUAsta8Bla_ktl7haDS05F5LHUTexO06_M9dRQVN7xEcONbfh12357hEJAFnX__ZC6UnqbpaVzHtrNc/s1024/1024px-Dauphin_Island_09172008_005.JPG" style="font-size: large; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBNudVKum3tGzp_VX58ZoD1Qx56zN5Upqk1XDLQOZt3oyhbVC9tc4_L1iLRQM2AUAsta8Bla_ktl7haDS05F5LHUTexO06_M9dRQVN7xEcONbfh12357hEJAFnX__ZC6UnqbpaVzHtrNc/s320/1024px-Dauphin_Island_09172008_005.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><p class="p2"><span class="s1"></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;">The action began on August 3 when Union forces landed on Dauphin Island and laid siege to Fort Gaines, shown above. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Two days later the famous Union Admiral David Farragut with a fleet of 14 wooden ships and 4 ironclads entered Mobile Harbor.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Enduring withering fire from Fort Gaines and Fort Morgan,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Farragut’s forces nonetheless gained access to the inner harbor and forced the surrender of a small Confederate fleet. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Because the 2Oth Wisconsin was sent to the scene after the battle began, it can be surmised that Confederate resistance was stronger than anticipated. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The regiment was deployed to the peninsula that forms the lower mouth of Mobile Bay, where it meets the Gulf of Mexico. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Fort Morgan lies at the end of the peninsula.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Despite the Union siege, the fort was not taken until August 23.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Its fall effectively closed Mobile Bay to Confederate ships. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The City of Mobile, however, remained in rebel hands.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Union casualties were estimated at some 320 men killed.</span></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><span class="s1"></span><br /></b></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>In and Out of Navy Cove</b></span></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;">After the battle,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>the 20th Wisconsin retired eastward to a coastal location called Navy Cove,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>near present-day Gulf Shores, Ala.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>They garrisoned the area for almost four months, <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>perhaps to prevent the port from being reopened. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>From time to time the regiment was employed for pacifying expeditions to nearby towns.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In December 1864 its troops were moved, probably by ship,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>to nearby Pascagoula, Mississippi, and from there marched up country to Franklin Creek. A skirmish with Confederate troops is recorded there on December 21.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In this engagement the 20th Wisconsin is recorded as having captured 8 million feet of lumber,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>subsequently rafting it through enemy-held country to the town of Griffin’s Mills, Miss.,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>where they captured another 7 million feet of lumber.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Turning their wooden booty over to Union quartermasters,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>the 20th Wisconsin then was transported, presumably by ship or barge,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>back to Navy Cove, Miss.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The regiment stood duty there until March 1965 at which point it was ordered to the final campaign against Mobile and its defenses.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;">At this point the 20th Wisconsin had been reassigned to the new 13th Army Corps commanded by Maj. Gen. E.R.S.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Canby. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In mid-March 1865 Canby moved his forces along the eastern shore of Mobile Bay forcing the Confederates back into their defenses.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Union troops then concentrated on Spanish Fort and Fort Blakely that guarded the approaches to the city. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Spanish Fort was under siege by April 1 and fell on April 7. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Fort Blakely,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>where the 20th Wisconsin was engaged, fell a day later. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>For the next month regimental elements were at both forts,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>collecting stores, ammunition and artillery pieces. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Finally,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Mobile itself surrendered and the 20th helped garrison the city until late June 1865.</span></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Eugene Goes Home</b></span></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;">As hostilities were winding down,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>the 20th Wisconsin moved to Galveston,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Tex., on the Gulf Coast.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Then Lee surrendered. and the Civil War was over. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In Galveston,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>on July 14,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>1865,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>the regiment was demobilized and its soldiers sent home. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>During its almost three years in service, the 20th lost five officers and 100 enlisted men killed or mortally wounded. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Dead through disease were one officer and 145 enlisted,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>an ironic but not uncommon Civil War statistic.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Unnumbered others had been seriously wounded and bore the scars to their graves. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Illnesses first contracted in the service also would continue to plague many.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1"><span class="Apple-converted-space"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;">For his service to the Union<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Eugene Boyer, still a private, was paid an amount due on his clothing account of $18.28, $6.00 for turning in his weapon, and $25 as a mustering-out bonus ($75 more was promised) -- <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>a cash total of $49.28. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>With that money in his pocket,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>he likely was packed on a troop train in Galveston and with his comrades in arms sent home to his wife.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He was 21 years old. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>According to later testimony by a friend he had suffered a “slight flesh wound in his leg”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>during the war. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>More serious was the chronic diarrhea that would plague him for the rest of his life.</span></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p3"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"> ######</span></span></p><p class="p3"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"><br /></span></span></span></p><p class="p3" style="text-align: left;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /> </span><p></p>Jack Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01499431800088809848noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4158406346037964376.post-32252967009566742472021-06-18T14:11:00.003-07:002021-06-22T07:44:47.224-07:00 Family Stories: John Hoare and Jeremiah Vail<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p>
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</span><p class="p2" style="text-align: justify;"><i style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Foreword:</b><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Family stories are part of the glue that holds generation to generation.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>At a time when family values are under attacks both bold and subtle, the renewed emphasis on genealogy is a welcome development.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>During the past four decades my wife, Paula and I have been doing research on our families. Because she can trace her ancestors back five centuries, incidents abound.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Here are stories of two men in her direct line worth retelling.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Future posts in this vein are anticipated.</span></i></p>
<p class="p4" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p3"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF5Z4vGBBP3GEVsqKVP595QBRz9X9ew5qAF7mtQEvWooemE4UbHYteCnqF8IPbat-ZK14bEUimmALIvo9S721farUGmKEa_OOYau0cDr2d-jlJiTKYtXpE4b6NED7sMOhIvO8bxe_IoHQ/s399/2.+Metacom.jpg-+R.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; font-family: Courier; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="399" data-original-width="321" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF5Z4vGBBP3GEVsqKVP595QBRz9X9ew5qAF7mtQEvWooemE4UbHYteCnqF8IPbat-ZK14bEUimmALIvo9S721farUGmKEa_OOYau0cDr2d-jlJiTKYtXpE4b6NED7sMOhIvO8bxe_IoHQ/w161-h200/2.+Metacom.jpg-+R.jpg" width="161" /></span></a><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b>The Heroism of John Hoare:</b><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Hoare (sometimes written “Hoar”),<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>was a prominent </span></span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">and respected Colonial lawyer. In 1875 a conflict erupted with the Native American population called the King Philip’s War, a name obliquely referring to the Indian leader, Metacom, shown here.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">Hoare achieved considerable fame in the Colonies and even in Europe because of his heroics and sagacity in negotiating the release of a white woman,</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">Mary Rowlandson, from Indian captivity.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">She was carried off in a raid conducted by Chief Metacom himself and subsequently held prisoner in an Indian camp close to present day Princeton, Mass.</span></span></div><p></p><p class="p3" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="p3"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgc6sYFEbv6OEhqcJmQs7-8KMZziyHD1KVPufdleHM7kwKBEihLnei28DrRqd77XAn4tWECwdVCgiSVNsvihBIVh6TNl9uJlqv4C18E2G4z0zpmc4fM6wPlWLxSJ8ci5z7x-a6oISe6x4/s644/1.+King+P+war+-+C.tiff" style="clear: right; float: right; font-family: Courier; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: justify;"><span style="clear: left; float: left; font-size: medium; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="475" data-original-width="644" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgc6sYFEbv6OEhqcJmQs7-8KMZziyHD1KVPufdleHM7kwKBEihLnei28DrRqd77XAn4tWECwdVCgiSVNsvihBIVh6TNl9uJlqv4C18E2G4z0zpmc4fM6wPlWLxSJ8ci5z7x-a6oISe6x4/s320/1.+King+P+war+-+C.tiff" width="320" /></span></a><span class="s1" style="font-size: medium;"></span></p>
<p class="p4" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p3" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Hoare’s mission required him to ride into the hostile Indian camp unarmed and to haggle with the warriors over Mrs. Rowlandson’s release. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The inhabitants were anything but welcoming.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In her written account of the incident published at the time to great attention in both in America and England, the Rowlandson woman praised Hoare for his “forward spirit.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>She described that she initially thought he had been killed in trying to rescue her.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In reality, the Indians had simply shot over and under his horse, <i>“pushing him this way and that way, at their pleasure, showing what they could do.”</i><span class="Apple-converted-space"><i> </i> </span>Their intimidation apparently had little effect on Hoare’s resolve to free the captive housewife.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Eventually the Indians tired of their sport and<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>were willing to sit down with him to discuss her release.</span></span></p>
<p class="p4" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p3"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJQiXBTWwwxjdIK5vial874pGxz0Hc-ytvHi80sEz5RF6r1mUP4Dl-hwXVf6zWAzQ7xiEUUqcpfAl8gUk9oJ6-23TcEqsKFomwgOdRSK5xagdssZr3kfBZo8epE77vRu0BcLFoKo2aRJo/s416/3.+Mrs.+R..jpg-+L.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; font-family: Courier; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="416" data-original-width="279" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJQiXBTWwwxjdIK5vial874pGxz0Hc-ytvHi80sEz5RF6r1mUP4Dl-hwXVf6zWAzQ7xiEUUqcpfAl8gUk9oJ6-23TcEqsKFomwgOdRSK5xagdssZr3kfBZo8epE77vRu0BcLFoKo2aRJo/s320/3.+Mrs.+R..jpg-+L.jpg" /></span></a><span class="s1"></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">At one point, upon a promise she could go,</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Hoare supplied liquor to the Indian “master” to whom the white woman had been given.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">It apparently was a mistake.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">After a bout of drinking, this same warrior came ranting into the wigwam calling for Hoare, alternately toasting to him as a good man but in the next breath shouting,</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“Hang him rogue.”</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">For Hoare this must have been a highly tense time.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">After two more days of negotiations, on May 2, 1676,</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">the Yankee lawyer struck a bargain with the Indians and was allowed to leave with Mary and his own Christian Indian companions. </span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">After further privations the little band found their way to Lancaster, Mass., and safety.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"> </span></span></div><p></p>
<p class="p4" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p3" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The story of Hoare’s bravery became well known when Mary Rowlandson published her account of her days in captivity. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The story continued to be read for generations. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>One author said of her book: that it was “long known to every New England family and perhaps secretly read by many a boy in lieu of the present Wild West series....”</span></span></p>
<p class="p4" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p3" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Hoare had came to Scituata, Mass., from England about 1643.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He subsequently moved to Concord,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Mass., where he set up in the practice of law. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Although a member of the Puritan Congregationalist Church, Hoare apparently was not a rigid believer.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>According to one report he was barred by authorities from practicing law for a year for failure to attend church and for making disparaging remarks about a local minister. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Hoare also had a reputation for being friendly with Indians,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>an attribute that might have helped him rescue Mrs. Rowlandson.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He built a house for Christian Indians of the Nashobah tribe on his own land,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>only to have a dozen of his charges kidnapped by local toughs and taken away. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>John Hoare clearly is a worthy subject for further historical research.</span></span></p>
<p class="p4" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p3" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><b>The Trials of Jeremiah Vail:</b><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Vail’s<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>birth date and arrival in the New World are not recorded.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We know he was living in Salem, Mass., in 1639 and was a blacksmith there.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>At the time Salem had become the largest community in America occupied by people speaking English.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>At that date there were only about a dozen scattered groups of white settlers on the whole Atlantic coast and Salem boasted some 1,000 inhabitants.</span></span></p>
<p class="p4" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p3" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Vail figures in colonial history because of his involvement in two relatively famous trials. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In the first of these that occurred about 1654 Jeremiah was the defendant against a claim by an Indian chief,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Wayndanch, the Sachem of Meantaquit, who sued him for damages done to his canoe.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>According to accounts,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>the chief was a friend and visitor to Vail’s employer, a man named named Gardiner.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The chief often came to see the colonist in a large dug-out canoe.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Those boats were made by charring or chiseling out the trunk of a tulip poplar, a laborious process, and were quite valuable. </span></span></p><p class="p3" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"><br /></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjksmDEeDd09PJcCiD7zTRQ2gn6k6RDqXwzvD6CgTNC-8hPm5OjeFQNRsqJvngVi0Ii3gWZuVFSHwTaDaiC0_GOKTLYWMTa7-ijIZYUzuE6UOf46Ie00RAaHBYoSHY5Z2g8gISamrLbPSA/s572/4.+NativeAmerica+canoejpg-+C.jpg" style="font-family: Courier; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="238" data-original-width="572" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjksmDEeDd09PJcCiD7zTRQ2gn6k6RDqXwzvD6CgTNC-8hPm5OjeFQNRsqJvngVi0Ii3gWZuVFSHwTaDaiC0_GOKTLYWMTa7-ijIZYUzuE6UOf46Ie00RAaHBYoSHY5Z2g8gISamrLbPSA/s320/4.+NativeAmerica+canoejpg-+C.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><p class="p3" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></p>
<p class="p4" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p3" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">As the story goes, Jeremiah was told by Gardiner to pull the canoe out of the water and onto land. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>When he failed to do so in a timely fashion, the canoe was tossed by the current, filled with water, sank and considerably damaged.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Gardiner helped Wayndanch sue Vail in the local court where the Indian was awarded compensation of ten shillings. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Vail also had to pay one pound,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>one shilling in court costs.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The conviction is accounted as the first time in Colonial history a Native American had ever successfully sued a white man.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Interestingly,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Jeremiah’s troubles with Indians continued.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In 1660 a cow he owned was seized by the town and sold in part to meet the claim of a Pequot Indian for unpaid labor.</span></span></p>
<p class="p4" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p3"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7ZMQ9bRY6YVxZEJvz68Ng5A5B76GRxe0APQR1WITJXbOjBXrL4o9TvPDelVt-NlzDoLA4Fx62PRGfapSi-pAN8oQHhBv4whAY08RamlNWEamY7YPLSxcQpWjPD7Sd8o4qCK-YT0sqh8s/s625/+5.+witch-hunts---salem_unvf66.jpg-R.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; font-family: Courier; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="351" data-original-width="625" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7ZMQ9bRY6YVxZEJvz68Ng5A5B76GRxe0APQR1WITJXbOjBXrL4o9TvPDelVt-NlzDoLA4Fx62PRGfapSi-pAN8oQHhBv4whAY08RamlNWEamY7YPLSxcQpWjPD7Sd8o4qCK-YT0sqh8s/s320/+5.+witch-hunts---salem_unvf66.jpg-R.jpg" width="320" /></span></a><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial;">Jeremiah’s second notable court appearance was more valorous.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In 1657, at the </span></span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">height of the Salem witch trials, Goody Garlick, the wife of Jeremiah’s next-door neighbor, Joshua Garlick, was brought before the court in Easthampton, Mass., on a charge of witchcraft.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">She was accused of having exerted evil influences on certain ill persons and “weak-minded children.” </span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">Under prevailing laws witchcraft was punishable by death. Jeremiah and his wife,</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">whose name is believed to be Catherine, appeared as defense witnesses for Mrs. Garlick.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span></span></div><p></p>
<p class="p4" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="p3"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN3gw2YjvjeiMo8kfxKLv9ctYC0SVt_Ay9zYsIREwOnQH-hgaf5kVCNETg0YtQKcP0DNvEOQUH1pFVpaOZER2ccKw3MbTFD-dlpjZk_qF6qvzFiUP03qWrXvFcrTPjqtLVrGAJOrG0g-0/s2000/JohnWinthropColorPortrait.jpg-+L.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; font-family: Courier; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="1648" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN3gw2YjvjeiMo8kfxKLv9ctYC0SVt_Ay9zYsIREwOnQH-hgaf5kVCNETg0YtQKcP0DNvEOQUH1pFVpaOZER2ccKw3MbTFD-dlpjZk_qF6qvzFiUP03qWrXvFcrTPjqtLVrGAJOrG0g-0/w165-h200/JohnWinthropColorPortrait.jpg-+L.jpg" width="165" /></span></a><span class="s1"></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">On February 27, 1657,</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">according to court records, the Vails told the court that the alleged supernatural events attributed to the housewife were nonsense and simply the result of ordinary physical causes.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Given the climate of the times, their testimony no doubt required considerable courage.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">After much dithering, the local judges sent the case forward to Governor Winthrop, shown here</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Known widely for his wisdom, Winthrop personally examined Goody, found her innocent, and quickly sent her back to her family with a letter admonishing town fathers to let the Garlicks alone.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">The letter effectively ended witch trials in East Hampton.</span></span></div><p></p>
<p class="p4" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p3" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Sometime around 1659, possibly affected by the death of his wife, Jeremiah moved to Southold, Long Island, where he owned property. With him were three children, two girls and a boy, 11, also named Jeremiah.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Possibly desiring a mother for his children, Jeremiah Sr. married a second wife in Southold a year later.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Shortly thereafter she also died. Twice a widower, he would marry a third time.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We know only that the first name of this wife was Joyce.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Accounted as a “strong. industrious, prudent, and God-fearing man,” Jeremiah died in 1687, about 70 years old.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>For the next five generations, the eldest son in the Vail line was named Jeremiah, likely a sign of respect for the patriarch.</span></span></p>
<p class="p4" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> #####</span></span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><br /></div><br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><style type="text/css">
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</style>Jack Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01499431800088809848noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4158406346037964376.post-88095846585957079642021-06-05T05:18:00.004-07:002021-06-05T05:20:37.151-07:00 The Wonder World of Electric Belts<p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> </span></p>
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</span><p class="p1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">When a major new technological advance little understood by the general public is coupled with human maladies for which there are no known remedies,</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">charlatans have a field day.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Thus it was with the phenomenon that gave rise to “electric belts.”</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Those nostrums were among the most popular consumer medical products sold in the late 19th Century.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Fascinated by their merchandising, I am featuring here nine electric belt ads.</span></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p1"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgkppxp1sNHtUsjPZPwZAy1yJDyb-BV-CqZTWSoH_CZnxCzbXzBkBgMtf0izDBaxT4b8V-Glmu6mICC6pjktseOuaFN9PbbCvbHzM4CRakdOlRUsT06HmsNSbHWMj0k3wlwj8WxyF4BeY/s1024/1.+Dr.+McL+3.jpg-+R.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="829" data-original-width="1024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgkppxp1sNHtUsjPZPwZAy1yJDyb-BV-CqZTWSoH_CZnxCzbXzBkBgMtf0izDBaxT4b8V-Glmu6mICC6pjktseOuaFN9PbbCvbHzM4CRakdOlRUsT06HmsNSbHWMj0k3wlwj8WxyF4BeY/s320/1.+Dr.+McL+3.jpg-+R.jpg" width="320" /></span></a><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s2"><span>The exhibit begins with an ad from Dr. M.A. McLaughlin who peddled his “curative </span></span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">electricity” from his offices at Market & Kearney Streets in San Francisco and Spring & 2nd Streets in Los Angeles.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">From the accompanying illustration, it would appear that Doc M. also was capable of generating electricity through his fingertips as well as his belts.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><i style="letter-spacing: 0px;">“You will find my application of electricity is the most intelligent and perfect of the age, the grandest invigorator of the age for weakness, the best tonic for your nerves…”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></i><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">His belt was to be worn even at night until “your system becomes charged with reviving voltage.”</span></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s2"><i></i></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p1"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWfJpBiPTlX0rwZC20dwSxyTI4BvjbxfENn_Y2CUxOkOH7v1bRyclmPXNnWQsNJEB_a_WM0C1BwIpITZ1-EkMAQtcNQlnAoUPuz9bca6qy83rSWYPS2Nl-TYRdAVnfZ1XlP9pjWYkKoCI/s1199/2.+Dr.+Scott+belt.jpg-+L.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1187" data-original-width="1199" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWfJpBiPTlX0rwZC20dwSxyTI4BvjbxfENn_Y2CUxOkOH7v1bRyclmPXNnWQsNJEB_a_WM0C1BwIpITZ1-EkMAQtcNQlnAoUPuz9bca6qy83rSWYPS2Nl-TYRdAVnfZ1XlP9pjWYkKoCI/w200-h198/2.+Dr.+Scott+belt.jpg-+L.jpg" width="200" /></span></a><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Dr. Scott, whose offices were on Broadway at 13th Street claimed that 17,000 New Yorkers were wearing them daily to cure complaints ranging from “male and female weakness” (read sexual problems)<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>to “kidney, liver and heart” disease.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Scott’ ad was filled with testimonials, including one from “Albert Krug” of Peoria Illinois:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><i>“My father, 70 years old, could not walk 100 yards; after wearing the Belt one month, he walked nine miles without resting.” <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></i>Dr. Scott’s belt was cheap at $3.00 and likely generated no electricity at all, just pain from the hot pepper with which it likely was lined.</span></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">A man who clearly was in need of a barber was Dr. A. Owen, proprietor of The Owen Electric Belt and Appliance Co.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>But then if your face is your trademark, cutting it short might invalidate the registration.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Dr. Owen’s belt is shown emitting lots of electric buzz from the silver-coated disks that are around the periphery of the belt.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>As one observer has written: <i>“The intimacy with which they came in contact with the body and the sophistication of their design and advertising materials made belts particularly influential objects for consumers with little electrical knowledge and great electrical enthusiasm.”</i></span></span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1hzxZMrRFhCL9RSKdz-sgkHxf4w0Vkal-YlueCQl3-AtXFqrAT01h9EQrZR7IMUZw7YNnmo1y7udR91uemJ7mu5XdXmB5Zq7v-jCkbUCn47eNcEw1LOGY3GrThCHHrexPl5TGMbyxPxw/s800/3.+Dr.+A+Owen+belt.jpg-C.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="513" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1hzxZMrRFhCL9RSKdz-sgkHxf4w0Vkal-YlueCQl3-AtXFqrAT01h9EQrZR7IMUZw7YNnmo1y7udR91uemJ7mu5XdXmB5Zq7v-jCkbUCn47eNcEw1LOGY3GrThCHHrexPl5TGMbyxPxw/s320/3.+Dr.+A+Owen+belt.jpg-C.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><p class="p1"><span class="s2" style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s2"><i></i></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The Heidelberg Alternating Current Electric Belts came in a variety of styles, selling anywhere from $4.00 to $18.00 (equiv. to almost $400 today).<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The expensive model was billed as Heidelberg’s “Giant Electric Power Belt.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Note that it in addition to the discs common to most of these devices, this one has a feature designed to hold the male genitalia and give it a jolt of 80-gauge current. </span></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">In addition to regulating the liver, this belt is for “Chronic Nervous Diseases, Weaknesses.”</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Wearing the belt brings “immediate relief and rapid improvement.”</span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge5KIP912hnf0BQbAMvcqsqkpbrG37o6ynKZcMeVJLDhP1tPB85oqabbeGt73a7O0jw1_xgUk3SjUXyGzvzy6CN0vQehPAosyOukuDNmQdlQ1OoRXbtFEJhWM4wqTavznMqIPAaywJUEo/s900/4.+Heidelberg+belt-ad.jpg-+C.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="477" data-original-width="900" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge5KIP912hnf0BQbAMvcqsqkpbrG37o6ynKZcMeVJLDhP1tPB85oqabbeGt73a7O0jw1_xgUk3SjUXyGzvzy6CN0vQehPAosyOukuDNmQdlQ1OoRXbtFEJhWM4wqTavznMqIPAaywJUEo/s320/4.+Heidelberg+belt-ad.jpg-+C.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><p class="p1"><span class="s2" style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p1"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0FnCoEhfMEiNLOdluuhEedRsJTKjbV9_icl7tXIzMwFktM5IJguTDiLCZii9hPcvSH-aukNEjL_dqOe594nO82rNvZfsxKX_Fl3hwj1CfMglinDneX1D78ZlYJ_0WCs8b9zYIPt0l0Lo/s553/5.+Dr.+Sanden+belt.jpg-+C.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="553" data-original-width="475" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0FnCoEhfMEiNLOdluuhEedRsJTKjbV9_icl7tXIzMwFktM5IJguTDiLCZii9hPcvSH-aukNEjL_dqOe594nO82rNvZfsxKX_Fl3hwj1CfMglinDneX1D78ZlYJ_0WCs8b9zYIPt0l0Lo/w172-h200/5.+Dr.+Sanden+belt.jpg-+C.jpg" width="172" /></span></a><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">My guess is that most electric belts were bought by men with erectile disfunction and the hucksters knew it.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Dr. Sanden in his ad makes no medical claims other than “It Cures When All Else Fails.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Dr. Sanden claims:<i><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“Therefore, when a man is broken down by the results of hard usage—when his vitality is low—Electricity poured into his nerves will build him up.” <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></i>Note the hanging gizmo pictured here designed to generate current to a vital organ.</span></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The Dr. Bell Electro Belt used a dry cell battery to generate its electricity, an advance from the earlier wet cell batteries, an advance followed by plugs for wall sockets.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Like Dr. Sanden, Dr. Bell unabashedly advertised his belt as for men lacking “vitality.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It also featured a hanging loop called a “suspensory”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>meant to jingle suspended male parts.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Looking at this belt somehow reminds me of Darth Vader’s helmet from “Star Wars.”</span></span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk5mc09SDZiO9teDn7wSTnnHAUE3D7zUjnEzXO5xvgzCZtk9SwSYGZr1Ohsh2PbOahYO4w6nU_Oq4bHai6Tqu6JM5HyPBvmIJaMqdrzPpFjZ8-EEm8lsHMEUsI8252EIofcMShCKdZPVA/s292/6.+Dr.+Bell+belt.jpg-+C.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="248" data-original-width="292" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk5mc09SDZiO9teDn7wSTnnHAUE3D7zUjnEzXO5xvgzCZtk9SwSYGZr1Ohsh2PbOahYO4w6nU_Oq4bHai6Tqu6JM5HyPBvmIJaMqdrzPpFjZ8-EEm8lsHMEUsI8252EIofcMShCKdZPVA/s0/6.+Dr.+Bell+belt.jpg-+C.jpg" /></span></a></div><p class="p1"><span class="s2" style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"></span></p>
<p class="p2"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLyMakXhTxteGnFy-nLbjCZqIHewwIb2MMJ-MZYDJNn-ScE3uzXHCtysI3vuvQbDIpCc3rvkrH0FTtXEnVOoNZw0AgqeGmWAlrBov8QmwyCrnro43f-gT5AcY15RAQXecdVjMbOXN3j_k/s372/7.+CB+Harness+Belt+GB.jpg-+R.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="372" data-original-width="236" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLyMakXhTxteGnFy-nLbjCZqIHewwIb2MMJ-MZYDJNn-ScE3uzXHCtysI3vuvQbDIpCc3rvkrH0FTtXEnVOoNZw0AgqeGmWAlrBov8QmwyCrnro43f-gT5AcY15RAQXecdVjMbOXN3j_k/w127-h200/7.+CB+Harness+Belt+GB.jpg-+R.jpg" width="127" /></span></a><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s2">American suckers were not the only customers for electric belts.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In England, </span><span class="s2">however, one did not need a “Dr.” name to market the item.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Mr. C.B. Harness of London’s Oxford Street offered his “Electropathic Belt” as president of an outfit called The Electropathic and Zander Institute.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span><span class="s3"> </span><span class="s2">Harness, a former jeweler and furniture salesman, billed himself as a “medical electrician.” In 1892, a man sued him for fraud. He had used the belt to cure his hernia but it worsen the more he used the device. He won the case, and soon after Harness was bombarded with investigations and prosecutions.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>One court case drew some 400 witnesses testifying against him.</span></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p1"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7RXzcO205zaX66HxQWcwbDKeiLcmt5eRJa6Lej3N-CnhCFElwyEoB2zHoGxjBHB2Wndil8-PQ4YAuFOJOCmhpELgc5e1_r1OV3igt233FMaB1_CgbodKca6tKhKHV4FIFgdGmHgiHEeE/s600/8.+Pulvermacher%2527s_Electric_Belts.png-+L.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="394" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7RXzcO205zaX66HxQWcwbDKeiLcmt5eRJa6Lej3N-CnhCFElwyEoB2zHoGxjBHB2Wndil8-PQ4YAuFOJOCmhpELgc5e1_r1OV3igt233FMaB1_CgbodKca6tKhKHV4FIFgdGmHgiHEeE/w131-h200/8.+Pulvermacher%2527s_Electric_Belts.png-+L.png" width="131" /></span></a><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Professor P. L. Pulvermacher, also a resident of London, was credited in company literature with inventing Electro-Galvanic Chains, that then were fashioned into belts and bands.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Based in San Francisco, the firm using his name advertised that electricity was “nature’s chief restorer” and denigrated traditional medicine as being “generally of no avail.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>This belt even got a word of approval from the British medical journal,<i> Lancet.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></i> It wrote:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><i>“In these days of medico-galvanic quackery, it is a relief to observe the plain and straightforward way in which Pulvermacher’s apparatus is recommended to the profession.”</i></span></span></p>
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<p class="p1"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">As a final look at electric belts consider the Howard Electric Shield.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Although it has every appearance of a belt (but no “suspensory”), its ad asserts that the device can be worn on any part of the body, not just the waist.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It emphasizes the ability of electricity to purify the blood proclaiming:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“Electricity is the Life of the Blood!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The Blood is the Life of the Body!”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Maladies like nervous debility, kidney disease, and male and female weakness are no match for the pure blood cleansed by Howard Galvanic Shield, offering speedy and positive cures.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Or so they said.</span></span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXgipi3GfIKPHx1XWNT3PTSvE_TYiNNSpscP7kAhpMWuQ_DeZPbv0KQkhMrKsFTRaLCZ0TUm3-qRQ_Vonik00DI9Y46qTxppVk66lDHbvK5FiVPQ6mit9v0_Czk-te0kJxgskx1O1eVFQ/s400/9.+Howard+Elwc.+Shield.jpg-+C.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="365" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXgipi3GfIKPHx1XWNT3PTSvE_TYiNNSpscP7kAhpMWuQ_DeZPbv0KQkhMrKsFTRaLCZ0TUm3-qRQ_Vonik00DI9Y46qTxppVk66lDHbvK5FiVPQ6mit9v0_Czk-te0kJxgskx1O1eVFQ/s320/9.+Howard+Elwc.+Shield.jpg-+C.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><p class="p1"><span class="s2" style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"></span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="p1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Today electric belts and their claims to cure a wide range of maladies seem ludicrous to the point of utter madness.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">One must remember, however, that modern medicine was just in its infancy.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Although little understood, electricity was exciting the populace.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">The hucksters could hardly help but take notice. </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Taken altogether, the birth of the electric belt might seem virtually inevitable.</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Similarly inevitable was its decline and demise in the 20th Century, leaving us with only these imaginative ads to contemplate past chicanery.</span></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><b>Note:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></b>Information and images for this<b> </b>post was gathered from multiple sources.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Chief among them were <i>“The Great American Medicine Show”</i> by David and Elizabeth Armstrong, Prentice Hall, 1991,” and <i>“The Victorian Tool for Everything From Hernias to Sex—a Vibrating Electric Belt”</i> by Lauren Young, July 12, 2016, online.</span></span></p>
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<p class="p2"><span class="s2"></span><br /></p>Jack Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01499431800088809848noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4158406346037964376.post-91615205036533085402021-05-21T06:38:00.001-07:002021-05-21T06:40:49.894-07:00The Wit and Wisdom of Clem Zablocki<p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><b></b></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p1"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ0jqCbjCX0UN6M4TDhDq8JbPGTG4aF91127hh4yHLpZI7iKPw0WJ3XoqlZwo90uHzg1h0_MUuvB6smX4ElXvZA7BeZ6BTZ-qpBBUSawx5W1wRWxpr0g32wM885xQRtBHK8eH_k31ZsJU/s255/1.+Clement_J._Zablocki.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="255" data-original-width="220" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ0jqCbjCX0UN6M4TDhDq8JbPGTG4aF91127hh4yHLpZI7iKPw0WJ3XoqlZwo90uHzg1h0_MUuvB6smX4ElXvZA7BeZ6BTZ-qpBBUSawx5W1wRWxpr0g32wM885xQRtBHK8eH_k31ZsJU/w173-h200/1.+Clement_J._Zablocki.jpg" width="173" /></span></a><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><span><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>As a Milwaukee reporter,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I like many of my colleagues thought of Clement J. Zablocki (</span></span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">1912-1983) as that stocky ethnic Congressman from the Polish,</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Serbian, Croat, Ukrainian, Hungarian,</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Czech, Slovak, etc.,</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">South Side of Milwaukee. </span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">I had covered a speech of his right after the aborted Cuban Invasion when he assured his audience that the U.S. would invade again. </span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">In short, my original opinion was not high.</span></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>I first caught sight of his wit on the first day I ever spoke to him directly.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He called on a snowy early March day in Milwaukee.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Could I come over right away to talk about a job?</span></span></p>
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<p class="p1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>“I am just getting into the shower,”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I replied.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“Will there be time for that?”</span></span></p>
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<p class="p1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>“It all depends on how dirty you are,”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Zablocki quipped.</span></span></p>
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<p class="p1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>There would be many other instances of Clem’s wit over the years.</span></span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR9x1HidHyaPMhgbWcBwBWEsyU3Y_IXnCKEcY5Clvv5UyBeLDcVMtYVN01wMUBtaGkADF2CUlYGDI3YAeatH8VhsIEqIk962DtzoSmrMHAMZS_sEbIEBhufbpQJwLNJQmCOX_FSn6wy5E/s991/2.+john-f-kennedy-and-clement-j-zablocki-2CMRJ2G.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="948" data-original-width="991" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR9x1HidHyaPMhgbWcBwBWEsyU3Y_IXnCKEcY5Clvv5UyBeLDcVMtYVN01wMUBtaGkADF2CUlYGDI3YAeatH8VhsIEqIk962DtzoSmrMHAMZS_sEbIEBhufbpQJwLNJQmCOX_FSn6wy5E/s320/2.+john-f-kennedy-and-clement-j-zablocki-2CMRJ2G.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><p class="p1"><span class="s1" style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"></span></p>
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<p class="p1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> In 1962 during visit by President Kennedy to Milwaukee,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>his motorcade from the airport was delayed at a intersection in the South Side.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Zablocki was seated next to him.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>From the crowd a man shouted:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“Hey Clem, who’s your friend?”</span></span></p>
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<p class="p1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>Kennedy heard the jibe.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“Clem, is this your district? “ the President asked.</span></span></p>
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<p class="p1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>“Hell,”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Mr.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>President,”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>he replied, “most of these people are my relatives.”</span></span></p>
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<p class="p1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>With Milwaukee being crazy for parades,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>the congressman often was asked to ride in an open car through city streets, waving to the crowd. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>At one of the frequent delays,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>a bystander shouted to him:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“Zablocki, you bum,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>they won’t give me Social Security.” <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It got very quiet in the vicinity.</span></span></p>
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<p class="p1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>Unfazed by the attack,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Clem shouted back:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“Of course not,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>you’ve got to go to work first.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The crowd convulsed in laughter.</span></span></p>
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<p class="p1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>On another occasion while we were doing the perfunctory sidewalk campaigning he was willing to do just once per<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>election campaign,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>he left off shaking hands of passersby and headed into a local department store to buy a pair of shoes. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Helplessly, I<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>followed.</span></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>It was difficult to steer voters to him amid the racks of clothes but as a faithful spear-carrying campaign coordinator,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I tried.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“Would you like to meet your congressman,” I would whisper conspiratorially to housewives busying themselves in the undies department.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Most just looked at me.</span></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>At last I came across a rather flamboyantly dressed lady who replied:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“Oh, Zablocki,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I have never met Zablocki.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I would love to meet him.”</span></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>Just then the congressman, fresh from shoe buying, hove into view.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“There’s a constituent over here who is dying to meet you,”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I told him. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>With a politician’s instinct for a voter,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Zablocki followed.</span></span></p>
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<p class="p1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>As soon as she saw him,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>her face fell in disappointment.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“Oh, you’re such a short man.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>she cried,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“My first husband was a short man.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I don’t like short men.”</span></span></p>
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<p class="p1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>Zablocki was quick to reply:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“Lady,” said he, “I just want your vote,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I don’t want to marry you.”</span></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p1"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFXKxx4WMv8bI2ylkZliO0LW4nSCicfDVCS30F5ThsR4HHE1ZYUUdZ5Xd7RNuUfapFblEFc77m_frMk7LIdFkyPSD4oVdKM3BWXPPkK0MZx1pvQSBFJgJ2fiLtMCRv1btZz1Ru19L2gwA/s253/3.+Clarence_Long.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="253" data-original-width="220" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFXKxx4WMv8bI2ylkZliO0LW4nSCicfDVCS30F5ThsR4HHE1ZYUUdZ5Xd7RNuUfapFblEFc77m_frMk7LIdFkyPSD4oVdKM3BWXPPkK0MZx1pvQSBFJgJ2fiLtMCRv1btZz1Ru19L2gwA/w174-h200/3.+Clarence_Long.jpg" width="174" /></span></a><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><span><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>In his congressional duties Clem could be insightful. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>One of his colleagues in </span></span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">the House,</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Congressman Clarence Long, was well known in the House for his oddball behavior and opaque speeches. </span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">But he boasted a Ph.D. and liked to be addressed as “Doctor Long.”</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>“He is living proof,” Zablocki asserted frequently, “that individuals can be educated beyond their capacity.”</span></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>Clem also shared the general feeling in the House that the members of the Senate,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>usually referred to as “the other body,”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>had attitudes of superiority not validated in performance. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He frequently was a House member of a conference committee on a bill with the Senate and found it frustrating that Senators who had not read the legislation spent inordinate time pontificating about it. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> “The problem with senators,”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Clem said, “is that too many of them get out of bed,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>look into the bathroom mirror, and say, ‘Good morning Mr. President.”</span></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p1"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFkcH1zdrbKQuQqRqBtjcpuh8R2Sj6o96UHBX7zXdZ8ZHj7yNVDuSLqmMBA25rJGW7OD9alijnegHSS6woWs8adkK-lZgr2dPIU10ttJw64dKN0GGE6V1goJuuU7scyUkDqZBUCce5cxQ/s269/4.+James_G._Fulton_89th_Congress_1965.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="269" data-original-width="220" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFkcH1zdrbKQuQqRqBtjcpuh8R2Sj6o96UHBX7zXdZ8ZHj7yNVDuSLqmMBA25rJGW7OD9alijnegHSS6woWs8adkK-lZgr2dPIU10ttJw64dKN0GGE6V1goJuuU7scyUkDqZBUCce5cxQ/w164-h200/4.+James_G._Fulton_89th_Congress_1965.jpg" width="164" /></span></a><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>Later when I had graduated from his personal staff to being his subcommittee director,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>we traveled in 1970 with two other congressmen to Latin America to review military assistance and other matters.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>One of the two was Jim Fulton, <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>a wealthy Republican from Pennsylvania with a reputation for eccentricity.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It also was whispered that he was gay.</span></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>During a visit to CINCSOUTH,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>the U.S. military presence in the Panama Canal Zone,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>which then was still firmly in American hands,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>we were housed overnight in the officer guest quarters.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>As chairman,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Zablocki was given a room of his own.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I was to stay in a double room with Fulton.</span></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>The implications were clear.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>When the story got around that I had stayed the night with Fulton, innocent as it probably would be, the ribbing would have been merciless.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>went to Clem: “They’ve put me in with Fulton.”</span></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>He saw the problem immediately. “There’s an extra bed in my room.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>You can stay with me,” he said.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I breathed easier.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Clem went off to explain the change to Fulton, claiming that he needed me to help with a speech he was to give the next day.</span></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>In matter of fact I went out for a late night of dinner and drinking with an old friend who was stationed in the Canal Zone. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>When I rolled in about 2 a.m.,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>somewhat unsteady,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Zablocki was in bed asleep and the room was pitch black. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Trying to sneak in quietly,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I stumbled over an end table and sent an ashtray skittering over the wooden floor.</span></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>Out of the darkness came a familiar voice:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“Maybe you should have stayed with Fulton.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p3"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"> ######</span></span></p><style type="text/css">
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</style>Jack Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01499431800088809848noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4158406346037964376.post-36201961371656247492021-05-08T06:54:00.002-07:002021-12-07T07:02:18.000-08:00 Hearse/Ambulances — One More Time<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial;"> </span></span></span></p><p class="p2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">For more than a decade, I have been struck by the variety of paperweights and similar items issued by the funeral homes of America that depicted the kind of vehicles used by those practitioners.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>My particular fascination has been for those early horseless carriages that undertakers employed to do double duty — using them both as ambulances and hearses, a practice later outlawed by federal law.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Four prior posts <i>[see Note]</i> have featured 36 such artifacts but new examples continue to appear.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The result is a fifth post on an old subject.</span></span></p><p class="p2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></span></p><p class="p1"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF88W49QEXv2WoETiSfGMLIfKxuc66Swy4oV7BF2MAwzsut8U1kPmUXS0bJdSGHe3vKonhTINJ2sCjZqEEt5wtuYIM7BDShPs5LzF-v5lDM4oPah3xcnfiKRZ2phd7fIgarFPTveZJuCQ/s1131/1.+Horse+Amb..jpg+-+R.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1122" data-original-width="1131" height="317" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF88W49QEXv2WoETiSfGMLIfKxuc66Swy4oV7BF2MAwzsut8U1kPmUXS0bJdSGHe3vKonhTINJ2sCjZqEEt5wtuYIM7BDShPs5LzF-v5lDM4oPah3xcnfiKRZ2phd7fIgarFPTveZJuCQ/w320-h317/1.+Horse+Amb..jpg+-+R.jpg" width="320" /></span></a><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s2"><span>Dual-purpose transport preceded the motorized era.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Shown here is an ashtray </span></span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">bearing the photo of a horse-drawn hearse for the McCreary-Horner Undertaking Company. But looked at closely one sees a red cross in a rear window — the universal symbol of an ambulance.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Because the company provided a telephone number but no address, it has been impossible to find out further information on this funeral service.</span></span></p><p class="p2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The paperweight that follows is a variant on one featured in an earlier post.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The earlier version seemingly was coy about the core business of Ziegenhein Bros. of St. Louis, Missouri. It showed a vehicle that has many attributes of a hearse but gave its purpose as “L. and U.” -- to be understood as livery and undertaker. The second version makes clear that the Ziegenheins also were running an “auto<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>ambulance service,” adding that it was available day and night.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The Ziegenhein family has continued to run a funeral business in St. Louis.</span></span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYeaWF7BWSPxwQZNNSAlDWVAAhOta9sFyn5oEJO_zuKeAGKSbHeimfS0kLk5GfSYsJdeKXPsMV-1w-8DbKZ9VkpJMG2qSGcM6tT31QW5NpDLQkhVGggHLsdV1OLPajTJBXCkkRLkigaPE/s1600/2.+Ziegen+St.+Louis.jpg-+R.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYeaWF7BWSPxwQZNNSAlDWVAAhOta9sFyn5oEJO_zuKeAGKSbHeimfS0kLk5GfSYsJdeKXPsMV-1w-8DbKZ9VkpJMG2qSGcM6tT31QW5NpDLQkhVGggHLsdV1OLPajTJBXCkkRLkigaPE/s320/2.+Ziegen+St.+Louis.jpg-+R.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><p class="p1"><span class="s2" style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"></span></p><p class="p2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdZB8nrNkvBLcUa4N7JK3SOs66I7KJ0_w-16T_QHkLnlQ2iW8SxvcCZIssJd8oYKtj37jdNhU-XPYbc1Hra7xrn3UYHifA2IeEbpjokOIygvZ_H85wfzb962e3iL8p5az3DwMKWI12-1E/s953/3.+Tetley.jpg-+L.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="953" data-original-width="930" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdZB8nrNkvBLcUa4N7JK3SOs66I7KJ0_w-16T_QHkLnlQ2iW8SxvcCZIssJd8oYKtj37jdNhU-XPYbc1Hra7xrn3UYHifA2IeEbpjokOIygvZ_H85wfzb962e3iL8p5az3DwMKWI12-1E/w195-h200/3.+Tetley.jpg-+L.jpg" width="195" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br />Celluloid pocket mirrors, as the one shown here, allowed a wider range of colors and sharper images than paperweights.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It was issued by Tetley, Sletten & Dahl of La Cross, Wisconsin. This company was begun about 1905 by Theodore K. Dahl who later took on partners Tetley and Sletten.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Upon their departure Dahl became the sole owner and operated it until his death in 1935.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Thereafter it was managed by his daughter, Esther, one of few women funeral directors, until her death in 1959.</span><p></p><p class="p2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></span></p><p class="p1"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyIrd4FtdcBD0_44wim2lwXnKIokVtHFPLxa82z2ctEytLLDpX0EGAxO6w_W8AOXAL4CCcE1hX7MXhZJGlYe84qsbtfo6YTCQTtSJObsvNdO2-0KQPM-BgZ1i82Y6izgzu8pnXn8gJ79I/s884/4.+Carroll+%2526+Mast.jpg-+R.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="569" data-original-width="884" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyIrd4FtdcBD0_44wim2lwXnKIokVtHFPLxa82z2ctEytLLDpX0EGAxO6w_W8AOXAL4CCcE1hX7MXhZJGlYe84qsbtfo6YTCQTtSJObsvNdO2-0KQPM-BgZ1i82Y6izgzu8pnXn8gJ79I/s320/4.+Carroll+%2526+Mast.jpg-+R.jpg" width="320" /></span></a><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s2"><span><br />Carroll & Mast featured a light colored vehicle that might be taken for a single</span></span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> purpose ambulance. The label on the paperweight terms it a “motor ambulance.” Look closely, however, at the rear window of the vehicle.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">It displays a stained glass motif very common on the hearses of the day.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">If one of these showed up in the neighborhood onlookers could never be sure if it was headed to the hospital or the burying grounds.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span></span></p><p class="p2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3QLejqQAxCFHUgQXc731dBDO3FxpSAp-GK9-rtO1DUcVc8LBTygU57I2I6kl8PmbU315AxqIoYbAWDmzUMAD6p2P_B1WvT9R5zW9g0hfyqgs8zINZbfHvHfgVh9MdTRq-IQZxTEZ5Y-w/s1230/5.+Motor+hearse+corp.jpg-+L.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1230" data-original-width="1116" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3QLejqQAxCFHUgQXc731dBDO3FxpSAp-GK9-rtO1DUcVc8LBTygU57I2I6kl8PmbU315AxqIoYbAWDmzUMAD6p2P_B1WvT9R5zW9g0hfyqgs8zINZbfHvHfgVh9MdTRq-IQZxTEZ5Y-w/s320/5.+Motor+hearse+corp.jpg-+L.jpg" /></span></a></div><p class="p2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">With $200 in cash and a blueprint D.H. Cummings of Richmond, Indiana, in 1917 launched the Lorraine Car Company, also known as the Motor Hearse Corp. of America. The blueprint was of a hearse, and the funeral car trade was the focus of Cummings' new business.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">By 1919 the company offered a large line of both conservative 12-column carved-panel hearses, as the one shown here, and more modern limousine-style coaches.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">The owner was forced by an economic turndown in 1921 to sell to another Richmond manufacturer who three years later also folded.</span></span></p><p class="p2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></span></p><p class="p1"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh49QlNQUvAAGSEH16H5fSqLZB9iW7wicZoYEeP5p0SIbYwuBR7mRJG8bwrx40jexHmyDLrpSBs6VClfvGTS4xQfgXWVCcltfv8GRMglKaqVGuxUSiIoZCCYjfYU4cCd-qhi_hdNn7O46g/s443/6.+Hearse++hayes+%2526+Sons-+Memphis.jpg-+R.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="328" data-original-width="443" height="148" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh49QlNQUvAAGSEH16H5fSqLZB9iW7wicZoYEeP5p0SIbYwuBR7mRJG8bwrx40jexHmyDLrpSBs6VClfvGTS4xQfgXWVCcltfv8GRMglKaqVGuxUSiIoZCCYjfYU4cCd-qhi_hdNn7O46g/w200-h148/6.+Hearse++hayes+%2526+Sons-+Memphis.jpg-+R.jpg" width="200" /></span></a><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s2"><span>At the beginning of the 20th Century many black Memphians began establishing their</span></span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> own businesses. First among them, the oldest African American business in Memphis, was T. H. Hayes and Sons Funeral Home.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">It was founded and operated by Thomas Henry Hayes, working with his wife, and their two sons.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Hayes’ range of services were affordable, it is said, to the working classes as well as to elites.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Hayes featured both horse drawn and motor hearses, like the one shown here on a weight.</span></span></p><p class="p2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></span></p><p class="p1"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUA7vxyf-mSWoDWAu_WDPCR2A_iCFMZSkGhrHlgk-jc-j5xPBM6AGfeOhAaJn-SBh_geNUow7yUIuxicMb55AqH2VusXOdMgCr9cRebmoKLD56DlXBCia7CCi2xS-u4jjSo_yQLkMnphM/s1000/7.+Wilson+Amster.+NY.jpg-+L.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="989" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUA7vxyf-mSWoDWAu_WDPCR2A_iCFMZSkGhrHlgk-jc-j5xPBM6AGfeOhAaJn-SBh_geNUow7yUIuxicMb55AqH2VusXOdMgCr9cRebmoKLD56DlXBCia7CCi2xS-u4jjSo_yQLkMnphM/w317-h320/7.+Wilson+Amster.+NY.jpg-+L.jpg" width="317" /></span></a><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Sitting in the driveway of the Wilson Funeral Directors of Amsterdam, New York, is<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>yet another vehicle that might have been used as an ambulance.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Edwin L. Wilson, designating himself a “funeral director and embalmer,” in 1925 advertised that he offered automobile equipment.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>A suggestion that Wilson also provided ambulance services was his promise of a “lady attendant.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>She might be appreciated by someone on the way to a hospital; less so on the way to the cemetery.</span></span></p><p class="p2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s2"></span><br /></span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The Stormer Funeral Home was founded in 1904 by Aaron M. Stormer in Quincy, Illinois.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He later brought his son, Coley, into the business.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>By glancing to the lower left of the company’s advertising paperweight, a motor vehicle is visible that likely is one of the Stormer fleet of vehicles. </span></span></p><p class="p1"><span class="s2"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnI-fBsfVZNw41r-wCdpsqoFuLuTOo2cWLLDIUfw1GUxexzqdK9QQg2nHcydZuXV0stXYvbHIEFCxaXrr969Ix00pA4eYDvJ_okahQtPww9OZlUqwHWwrarM1Wlz_0P8Qt2TeJJsZfw74/s925/8.+Stormer+Quincy+Ill.jpg-+C.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="579" data-original-width="925" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnI-fBsfVZNw41r-wCdpsqoFuLuTOo2cWLLDIUfw1GUxexzqdK9QQg2nHcydZuXV0stXYvbHIEFCxaXrr969Ix00pA4eYDvJ_okahQtPww9OZlUqwHWwrarM1Wlz_0P8Qt2TeJJsZfw74/s320/8.+Stormer+Quincy+Ill.jpg-+C.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s2"><span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial;"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">The hearse/ambulance motor hybrid lasted some 70 years. Until as late as 1979 hearses could be combination coaches. Stricter Federal standards were decreed for ambulances. The hybrids were unable to meet those requirements and manufacturing was discontinued. In many smaller communities even today, however, ambulance services continue to be the business of the local undertaker.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial; letter-spacing: 0px;">The distinction between their vehicles is no longer at issue.</span></span></p><p class="p2"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b style="font-family: arial;">Note:</b><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">Prior posts on ambulance/hearses and paperweights have appeared on this blog as </span><i style="font-family: arial;">Where to Buddy?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Hospital or Graveyard?</i><span style="font-family: arial;">, July 17, 2009;</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial;"> </span><i style="font-family: arial;"> Chasing the Ambulance:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>But Wait….Is it a Hearse?</i><span style="font-family: arial;">, May 24, 2013; </span><i style="font-family: arial;">Funeral Home Ambulances:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>A Conflict of Interest?</i><span style="font-family: arial;"> November 5, 2016;</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">and </span><i style="font-family: arial;">Wrapping Up Hearse Ambulances,</i><span style="font-family: arial;"> September 1, 2018.</span></span></p><p class="p2"><br /></p><p class="p2"><span class="s2"></span><br /></p><p class="p2"><span class="s2"></span><br /></p><p class="p2"><span class="s2"></span><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p class="p2"><span class="s2"></span><br /></p><p class="p2"><span class="s2"></span><br /></p><p class="p3"><span class="s2"></span><br /></p><p class="p2"><span class="s2"></span><br /></p><p class="p2"><span class="s2"><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></p><p class="p2"><span class="s2"></span><br /></p><p>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></div></div></div></div></div>Jack Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01499431800088809848noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4158406346037964376.post-80787336898951792502021-04-27T05:14:00.002-07:002021-12-07T07:01:28.637-08:00"The Dark Clouds of War" - Part Seven<p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p>
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<p class="p1"><span class="s1"><b><span class="Apple-converted-space"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></b></span></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: center;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;">“<b>The Dark Clouds of War”</b></span></span></p>
<p class="p3" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><b></b></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: center;"><span class="s1"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">The Civil War Diary of John Zimmerman of Alexandria, Virginia (1861-1865)<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></b></span></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: center;"><span class="s1"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Transcribed, Edited and Narrated by Jack Sullivan</span></b></span></p>
<p class="p1" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><b></b></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><i>Foreword:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></i></b><i>Beginning in 2012, I was tasked at the Historical Division of the Alexandria VA Library with transcribing into a computer the hand-written diary of John Zimmerman, a local confederate soldier who kept a diary throughout the five years of the Civil War.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>While it was anticipated that the diary would be put on the library website, that did not occur and the sesquicentennial of the conflict has passed.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Believing that this fascinating document is worthy of more attention, I have prepared a summary in seven parts that has been posted here every four days throughout April.</i><b><i><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></i></b><i>This post wraps it up.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></i><b><i><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></i></b></span></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><b></b></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span class="s1"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Part Seven:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Battle of Five Forks, Retreat, Surrender, Home</span></b></span></p>
<p class="p5"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;">On March 4 the 17th Virginia received orders to prepare for active field service.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Subsequently the unit was marched from one place to another, filling gaps to counter Union cavalry and infantry movements threatening Richmond.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Zimmerman continued on the move with his comrades until March 16 when his abdomen and limbs broke out in sores to the point where he could scarcely walk or wear a belt.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Sent to the Chimborazo Hospital in Richmond, he was diagnosed as suffering from impetigo, and the doctor prescribed burning his skin ulcers with silver nitrate.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>On March 22 he told his diary:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><i> </i><b><i>“I think I am better today.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Probably more due to a change in my diet than to the treatment of the surgeon, which I do not approve of.”</i></b><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Still in the hospital five days later and chafing to get back to his unit, he upset the surgeon by telling him to prepare his discharge:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><b> <i>“I think from his manner I trod on his professional corns....</i>”</b><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Released the next day, Zimmerman headed southwest of Petersburg and joined the 17th Virginia at Five Forks, site of a battle sometimes called “The Waterloo of the Confederacy.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Several skirmishes, principally with Gen. Sheridan’s cavalry, caused a few casualties in the 17th Virginia during the several days leading up to the main battle.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>As always the Alexandrian was unhurt.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The historic clash at Five Forks occurred on April 1,1865.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Zimmerman described the height of the fierce combat with Union forces:</span></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">About two P.M. they began massing heavy bodies of infantry in front of the left of our Division and making strong demonstrations along that part of our line and soon the fire of the musketry on the left of our line became very heavy and continued steadily to increase in volume until it became a perfect roar and we noticed it was extending gradually to our rear. But we thought it due to the contour of our line but soon bullets began to whistle about us from several directions and we then realized the enemy were pressing back the left of our line.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Two Regts were sent to their support and a battery of artillery was rushed by us to reinforce and aid that section of our line.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>But soon the drivers returned with their horses calling out to us as they passed us, “Oh boys, they got our guns.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>They had just placed the guns in position and unlimbered when the enemy broke through our thin line at that point and captured the guns. The White Oak Road, along which our line was formed, immediately back of our line, was at the time densely crowded with men and I fully expected the captured guns would be turned on us and knew in that case our loss would be very great, but not a gun was fired. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></i></b></span></p><p class="p4"><span class="s1"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"><br /></span></span></i></b></span></p><p class="p4"><span class="s1"><b style="font-size: large;"></b></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgijZ3_9kYWgW1872BwKbjD-mupVE70xXV7_siRlTfLvy_fyIo1CVnfZgaWXHKDGeOvogOuqOpXGyBvWUdK-8G6fCy3hF7MB-pDdHDX2Ag6Lmy1A7OoL9meMGTC8hFleTo-m0xt9fALMm0/s800/+Battle_of_Five_Forks_K+copy.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="599" data-original-width="800" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgijZ3_9kYWgW1872BwKbjD-mupVE70xXV7_siRlTfLvy_fyIo1CVnfZgaWXHKDGeOvogOuqOpXGyBvWUdK-8G6fCy3hF7MB-pDdHDX2Ag6Lmy1A7OoL9meMGTC8hFleTo-m0xt9fALMm0/w400-h300/+Battle_of_Five_Forks_K+copy.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="400" /></a></div>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><b><i></i></b></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">Turning, I looked down our broken line through which the enemy were now pouring and pressing down toward our flank and rear - forcing back our men onward through the woods.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>But they continued to fight bravely to contest every foot of the ground.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We were now pressed on three sides and the minnies were singing right merrily about us it seemed from every quarter and the men were jumping from one side of the little breastwork to the other, not knowing which was really our front. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></i></b></span></p><p class="p4"><span class="s1"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"><br /></span></span></i></b></span></p><p class="p4"><span class="s1"><b style="font-size: large;"></b></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8itcvporYCi-JxR_3HeFz6iSNH3PPm5sm0iXONvmTC9_cTZpEl7RiuGotvkJl3bqx3FCD0wkOTY31LYf2FJ4IeVEjWdqTlOH1gj_aqXmi2HSCzJsCj5uddP7IpFgMU5z1XzCUYQfV1tQ/s404/Rebs+n+tRetreat.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="303" data-original-width="404" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8itcvporYCi-JxR_3HeFz6iSNH3PPm5sm0iXONvmTC9_cTZpEl7RiuGotvkJl3bqx3FCD0wkOTY31LYf2FJ4IeVEjWdqTlOH1gj_aqXmi2HSCzJsCj5uddP7IpFgMU5z1XzCUYQfV1tQ/s320/Rebs+n+tRetreat.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="320" /></a></div>
<p class="p5"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><b></b></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;">As the Confederate defenses crumbled and attempts to regroup the battered troops proved unavailing, Zimmerman heard his regimental commander, Colonel Herbert, say “Men get out as best you can, each for himself.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He did not hesitate but moved off to the right and eventually found where members of his division were assembling and began to move with them west toward Amelia Court House.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The retreating Confederates were being constantly harassed by Union cavalry as they moved.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Marching day and night the troops had little or nothing to eat, forced to parch and consume kernels of corn dropped by feeding horses.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>By April 6, the remnants of Lee’s army passed through Amelia Court House and headed for Farmville, Virginia.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>On April 6, at Sailor’s Creek, a large Union force caught up with the Confederates and Zimmerman came close to death:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><b><i>Then too the loud blast of a bugle call on our left sounding and a squadron of Yankee Cavalry immediately swept obliquely across our front to the support (I suppose) of those attacking our wagon train, and our line of skirmishers were at once ordered forward and the racket began and was soon in full blast.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The remains of Pickett's Div also moved forw'd and they drove back the Cavalry and recovered two of the captured guns but the overwhelming mass of the enemy's infantry pressed forward and the battle was on in earnest and the fighting was indeed furious and fierce.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The artillery of the enemy was also well served and was used on us with terrible effect.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>One shell struck Sgt Saunders</i></b></span><span class="s2"><b><i>,</i></b></span><span class="s1"><b><i> beside whom I was lying but a few minutes before when ordered forward</i></b></span><span class="s2"><b><i>,</i></b></span><span class="s1"><b><i> and seemed to explode at the moment it struck him and almost literally blowing him to pieces.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Several others were killed and wounded by the same shell and Corp. Will Perry's (near me) face and hands were much pitted by the grains of powder driven under the skin by the force of the concussion.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The Divisions of Gen Anderson and Custis Lee formed near us but the great wave of the enemy lines of infantry began breaking through our thin lines, killing, wounding and capturing many of our officers and men and also a large part of Gen Ewell and Custis Lee Divisions.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></i></b></span></span></p>
<p class="p5"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><b></b></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1">The Confederate losses in killed, wounded and captured were great.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Among those taken prisoner was Zimmerman’s brigade commander, General Corse</span><span class="s2">,</span><span class="s1"> and other senior officers.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Zimmerman recounted that the 17th Virginia suffer heavily and that among members of his Company A, only he and one other soldier escaped.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>With others who had avoided capture he headed down the road to Farmville.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>On the way, General Lee himself rode by.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Zimmerman described the moment:</span></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">Soon after starting, Gen Lee, mounted on Traveller, passed me.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He was riding calmly along, leisurely and serenely, unaccompanied by any of his staff - not even a courier or an orderly.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>His horse's gait and his whole manner and bearing seemed like that I imagined his morning ride about Arlington, his estate near Alexandria.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He bowed courteously & gracefully to his weary soldiers as he rode by them, frequently turning to them and gently raising his hat.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I especially noted his frequent turning his head from right to left, scanning closely the forms and faces of the men, but not a word of rebuke or reproof<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>to anyone of the poor, hungry and worn out fellows who were plodding along so wearily.</span></i></b></span></p>
<p class="p5"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;">Hunger began to dominate Zimmerman’s thoughts and actions.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Nearing Farmville, he spotted a slave cabin and was able to beg some cornbread and rye coffee.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Later he came upon a pile of hams that had just been unloaded from a train.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Famished soldiers made a dive for the meat.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He wrote:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><b> <i>And in the melee I secured a noble ham by crawling between the legs of a tall fellow and managed to get safely out of the struggling mass of hungry men with my prize....I soon divided the ham with my less fortunate, hungry comrades and then pushed on....</i></b></span></span></p><p class="p4"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></span></p><p class="p4"><span class="s1"><b style="font-size: large;"></b></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwPeZXXIve7yJrnWSfj7irmOPbwxQczi-9SENLlLrCLH5W-X1BjfDFMrbvbafg21_1Q6S_EBzWw4AMARU1PLR0lWTa1gq-fB3cqOKefjCnoRtBLNfQVGpGUX6KKzbfr2Xgd_BF-_JmxIM/s640/appomattox.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwPeZXXIve7yJrnWSfj7irmOPbwxQczi-9SENLlLrCLH5W-X1BjfDFMrbvbafg21_1Q6S_EBzWw4AMARU1PLR0lWTa1gq-fB3cqOKefjCnoRtBLNfQVGpGUX6KKzbfr2Xgd_BF-_JmxIM/w400-h300/appomattox.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="400" /></a></div>
<p class="p5"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><b></b></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;">On April 8, 1865, Zimmerman was camped near Appomattox Court House.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He recounted that among the remaining soldiers a number had become disheartened about the Southern cause. They were leaving the army and striking out across country to their homes.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Although he professed to be for continuing the fight, he recognized that the Yanks had a stronger force and were both at the Confederate front and rear:<b> <i>“...We are now, I think, in a pretty bad fix.”</i></b><i><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></i> When Lee surrendered the next day, Zimmerman’s immediate reaction was to be despondent:</span></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><b><i>But we have sad - very sad - hearts, and also very empty stomachs and having no food are terribly hungry.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>And from no food being in sight from any source we are indeed in a sad plight.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>But bad as they are, they are but secondary matters in the loss of our cause for which we have so long & forcefully contended - and the many cherished hopes for our cause - for these we grieve most deeply and sincerely & from the very bottoms of our hearts.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>But they, our dead comrades, were spared the terrible humiliation of defeat and so were blessed compared with us who remain</i></b></span><span class="s2"><i>.</i></span></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1"><span class="Apple-converted-space"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;">Provided with a small amount of rations by the Union army and paroled on April 12, Zimmerman was put in a considerably brighter mood by the prospect of returning home.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He and his Northern Virginia comrades were required to walk the 100 miles back to Richmond where General Grant had arranged for steamships to take them north.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Reaching the Richmond, he found the city now much in ruins by fires set by the Confederates as they left.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>By now so footsore he could barely walk, Zimmerman boarded the U.S. government steamer Kelso and was taken to City Point.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>There he embarked on the steamboat I. J. Brady bound for Alexandria.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It made a short stop at Point Lookout where Zimmerman professed a desire to see his old prison camp but the boat soon headed up the Potomac River.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The following morning, he reached Alexandria about 7 A.M. It was April 18, only nine days after Lee’s surrender.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He surprised his mother and family in a joyous reunion.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In his diary for that day, the last entry of his Civil War experience, Zimmerman mused about what had befallen him and his comrades:</span></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">And now I am home again - but with what different thoughts and feelings from those I had on that morning of May 24/61 when with my Comrades we marched out of our dear old town, sad though we were because we were compelled to leave those most dear.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>But we were animated and cheered by the thought that we would soon return and drive out the insolent invaders.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>But now all is changed and all hope is gone and added to this is the sad thought that so many of my brave and noble hearted Comrades, who on that morning full of life and hope and with firm step and buoyant hearts marched out with us, are now sleeping their last sleep on a distant battlefield or some quiet hillside or some yet more lonely and secluded spot which God only knows - but His loving eyes are over all.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He knows what is best and will have them in His holy keeping. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></i></b></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><b><i></i></b></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">I must now bring to a close this my diary which I have faithfully kept each day during the four long and eventful years of the war.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>But before doing so I must record my deep and abiding sense of love and gratitude to Him who though all the years and all the vicissitudes of war with its hardship, trials, and dangers has cared for me and preserved me through them all and brought me in health and safety to my home and loved ones.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>To Him be all praise, honor, and glory.</span></i></b></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><b><i></i></b></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span class="s1"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">[Signed]<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>John R. Zimmerman</span></i></b></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span class="s1"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">Co A 17th Va Infantry, Corse's Brigade</span></i></b></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span class="s1"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">Pickett's Division, Longstreet's Corp, A. N. Va</span></i></b></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s2"><b><i><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span></i></b></span><span class="s1"><b><i> <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>April 18/65</i></b></span></span></p><p class="p2"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></span></p><p class="p2" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><b></b></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><i><br /></i></b></span><p></p>Jack Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01499431800088809848noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4158406346037964376.post-61923438634999531612021-04-23T04:58:00.003-07:002021-04-23T04:59:54.534-07:00"The Dark Clouds of War" -- Part Six<p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p>
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<p class="p1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;">“<b>The Dark Clouds of War”</b></span></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><b></b></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">The Civil War Diary of John Zimmerman of Alexandria, Virginia (1861-1865)<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></b></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Transcribed, Edited and Narrated by Jack Sullivan</span></b></span></p>
<p class="p3"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><b></b></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><i>Foreword:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></i></b><i>Beginning in 2012, I was tasked at the Historical Division of the Alexandria VA Library with transcribing into a computer the hand-written diary of John Zimmerman, a local confederate soldier who kept a diary throughout the five years of the Civil War.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>While it was anticipated that the diary would be put on the library website, that did not occur and the sesquicentennial of the conflict has passed.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Believing that this fascinating document is worthy of more attention, I have prepared a summary in seven parts that will be posted here every four days<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>throughout April.</i></span></span></p>
<p class="p3"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><b><i></i></b></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Part Six: <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Into Union Lines, Messages Home, Safe Return</span></b></span></p>
<p class="p5"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><b><i></i></b></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;">While Zimmerman was at Fort Gilmer he embarked on what might have been the most perilous adventure of his Civil War experience.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Although he has been absent from his unit for long periods for illness and imprisonment, he had never had a furlough.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Much desired, it came on February 4, 1865.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>With John Sutherland, a comrade from Fairfax County, Zimmerman had hatched a plot to sneak through Union lines to Alexandria to see his family.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The pair boarded a train to Fredericksburg where the Confederate provost marshal forbid them to go even to Fairfax County for fear of capture.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>After promising they would not go inside Union lines, they promptly headed North on foot.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In order not to be taken for Southern spies, they wore their Confederate uniforms, covering them with captured Yankee blue regulation overcoats.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Knowing the homes of Southern sympathizers, they stopped for meals and overnight accommodations along the way, amid winter snows and strong winds.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>On February 6, Zimmerman recorded:</span></span></p>
<p class="p3"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">We are now in Prince Wm County but after crossing the Occoquan we shall be in Fairfax County, and as we will then be, I think, about fifty miles outside our lines and the same within the enemy line, we shall have to be on the alert and exercise great caution to prevent being captured by the prowling bands of<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“Home Guards,” U.S. Cavalry and their scouts. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></i></b></span></p>
<p class="p5"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><b></b></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;">A friendly merchant in Stafford County agreed to take them in his wagon over the Davis Ford in the Occoquan and into Fairfax County. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>By three o’clock the next day they had neared the Sutherland home near Burke.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>HIs companion became disoriented and they began walking in circles.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Zimmerman took the lead, moving in a direction indicated by Sutherland, and soon they stood in front of his house.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Their appearance received a mixed reaction from the inhabitants:</span></span></p>
<p class="p3"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">And then followed such a scene I shall never forget when his mother and a lot of children rushed out and recognized him.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>All of them became greatly excited and hysterical alternately, laughing and crying for excess of joy.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>So for a time there “What did you come here for?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The house will be burned down and all of us will be carried off to Washington to the Old Capitol prison.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>And I doubt not it would be the certain fate of all, if not worse if we were caught in their house.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>But soon they said, “Get in the house and hide up in the loft while we get you something to eat.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></i></b></span></p>
<p class="p5"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><b></b></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;">They soon determine that it is much too dangerous to stay at the Sutherlands.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The house lay close to a forested area where a number of black woodcutters were cutting timber for a Yankee army depot in Alexandria.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>They were guarded by Union soldiers who plainly could be seen from the house. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Zimmerman and his companion soon were packed off to the home of Isaac Hall, an elderly man living with two spinster sisters, who lived off the road.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Although the Halls had Negro servants, the pair were able to stay there in relative safety.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Zimmerman still harbored thoughts of sneaking into Alexandria. The Halls quickly disabused him of his chances of seeing his family:</span></span></p>
<p class="p5"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><i></i></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><i>They thought the trip would be very hazardous to both myself & them, and would be most probably fruitless because of the location of our house and surrounded as it is by guards & picket posts. One in front of our house and another just above and a large hospital (“The Slough”) just in rear of Mother's home, and a line of pickets extending to Cameron Run.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>They told me freely the location of each Camp, picket posts, etc.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I may possibly get in but it will be at a great risk of bringing serious trouble on Mother & Sisters & my young brother. </i></b></span></span></p><p class="p4"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><span class="Apple-converted-space"><br /></span></i></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiRl5pCqxSuhn4zYqh8lcPfukJ3kL2gPNVQRuP9nINBWoL6tFTlGWseUIj2vUJ8gcOd1qcqXNvPyfFOL8BEYcQOLrQbbwVRbKHW3FcNaxE9nq5YuCBhsG2T5b2u4OjTb5bpxapNzgt1YM/s333/birdsEyeViewAlexandria.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="333" data-original-width="312" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiRl5pCqxSuhn4zYqh8lcPfukJ3kL2gPNVQRuP9nINBWoL6tFTlGWseUIj2vUJ8gcOd1qcqXNvPyfFOL8BEYcQOLrQbbwVRbKHW3FcNaxE9nq5YuCBhsG2T5b2u4OjTb5bpxapNzgt1YM/s320/birdsEyeViewAlexandria.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alexandria Virginia during the Civil War</td></tr></tbody></table><p class="p4"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></i></span></span></p>
<p class="p5"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;">They also told him that it would be virtually impossible to get a letter into Alexandria.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>At the outer picket on Cameron Run, the Yankees had pitched a tent with a woman in charge where every Southern woman attempting to enter the city was disrobed and thoroughly examined to insure that no letters or writings were on her person.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Zimmerman recorded that he was in utter despair that “all my plans and risks had come to naught,” when one of the Hall sisters came into the room wearing a “slat” sun bonnet.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He had an inspiration:</span></span></p>
<p class="p3"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">Quickly taking it from her head and pulling out the slats of pasteboard, I folded my letters the length, width and thickness of the slats and put them in the place of the strips of pasteboard handed the bonnet to her, when she at once exclaimed, “Oh that is all right.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I never heard of that trick.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>And also said she would wear it into Alexandria to my Mother's house and let my sisters deliver the letters and in like manner bring others out to me. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></i></b></span></p>
<p class="p5"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqxfraFelJ0GEPovRuzcwkOX5xeklOUWZq6mrzs367yys6nqFllzXWU5Ri0Z8dQXirzrTRJg_y-rEpsAVw7FZHHjNQDKxTLT6pacvOIa2F1tD6f1IEFdmTag7Rtw7A1LI2fx9HnJ1d_SE/s600/slat+sun+bonnet+copy.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="458" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqxfraFelJ0GEPovRuzcwkOX5xeklOUWZq6mrzs367yys6nqFllzXWU5Ri0Z8dQXirzrTRJg_y-rEpsAVw7FZHHjNQDKxTLT6pacvOIa2F1tD6f1IEFdmTag7Rtw7A1LI2fx9HnJ1d_SE/w153-h200/slat+sun+bonnet+copy.jpg" width="153" /></a><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;">Zimmerman’s strategy worked.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Miss Jane Hall carried his letters to his family and friends to Alexandria in her<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“well-filled” sunbonnet.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>She returned the next day with many letters in response, similarly hidden, as well a variety of items that the soldier had requested.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Encouraged by this exchange, he wrote another round of correspondence and again the letters were successfully delivered.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>By this time he and Sutherland had been hiding at Hall’s house for ten days and their presence was becoming known in the neighborhood.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>People were dropping by to see the Rebs who were 65 miles inside Union lines.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The situation changed drastically on the night of Feb. 18, 1865, when word came that a detachment of U.S. cavalry had entered a house about two miles away, found two Southern soldiers believed to be spies, summarily executed them, stripped their bodies and sent the corpses to Alexandria.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Even more alarming, the Yankees were overheard to say that if they had had time they would have “gone for the other two.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The inference pointed to Zimmerman and Sutherland. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Leaving the Hall house and sleeping that night in the snow in a nearby pine woods, the pair immediately set out the next morning to return south to their regiment. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></p>
<p class="p5"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;">Their return would turn out to be even more perilous than their coming.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>With detachments of Union cavalry all around, they found they were unable to ford the Occoquan River that was at flood stage from melting snow and were forced to hide with friends near the river while someone hunted up a boat.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Most craft had been destroyed or damaged by Union forces to discourage such crossings.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Zimmerman recounted what happened next:</span></span></p>
<p class="p5"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><b></b></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Mr. Davis had succeeded in finding a small and rickety old battered dugout with the bow stoved in, into which we all climbed.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Mr. Davis sat in the center and paddled the old boat while Sutherland & I sat in the stern to keep the bow well raised up out of the water and at the same time bailing the boat for dear life to keep it from sinking.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The river was very high & the current like a millrace & I was very doubtful of our getting safe across but the same kind Providence who has preserved us on our perilous journey continued with us & after a great struggle with the strong, swift current the battered old craft landed us safe on the Southern side of the stream.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>And surely was right glad to be again on solid ground.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I think my comrade was equally glad for between the high boiling waters, the swift current & the rickety old boat with its bow stoved in, it was indeed a very close shave. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></i></b></span></p>
<p class="p5"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;">Once again the pair set off on foot, being on constant alert for Union troops and remembering the fate of the two Southern spies.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Although the return trip was fatiguing they found people in Stafford County friendly and hospitable.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Arriving in Fredericksburg inside Confederate lines on February 24, the following day they boarded a train back to Richmond.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>During their absence the 17th Virginia had been moved from Fort Gilmer back to its old location on the Howlett Line.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Their arrival in camp caused a stir: <b><i>“All had given us up having heard we were captured by Yanks.”</i></b><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Not everyone was so welcoming. When Zimmerman approached the division paymaster for his back pay, he was refused on the grounds he had overstayed his leave.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Indignant, the Alexandrian went directly to the commanding officer, General Pickett.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Finding him out, he made his case to the general’s aide and subsequently was paid.</span></span></p>
<p class="p3"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;">Late February and early March 1865 on the Howlett Line proved to be a dismal experience.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Cold, raw weather persisted and the soldiers were inadequately clothed.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Rations had been cut back steadily and were now barely above starvation levels.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The news of Southern defeats regularly arrived.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Desertions were becoming more and more common.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Even the usually optimistic Zimmerman confessed to his diary, <b><i>“I know things do look dark, very dark just now....”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></i>[</b>End of Part 6]</span></span></p><p class="p4"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="p4"><span class="s1"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="p3"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><br /></p>Jack Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01499431800088809848noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4158406346037964376.post-84604801062106721072021-04-19T05:52:00.002-07:002021-04-19T05:53:14.950-07:00The Dark Clouds of War -- Part Five<p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p>
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<p class="p1" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><b></b></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: center;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;">“<b>The Dark Clouds of War”</b></span></span></p>
<p class="p3" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><b></b></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: center;"><span class="s1"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">The Civil War Diary of John Zimmerman of Alexandria, Virginia (1861-1865)<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></b></span></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: center;"><span class="s1"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Transcribed, Edited and Narrated by Jack Sullivan</span></b></span></p>
<p class="p1" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><b></b></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><i>Foreword:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></i></b><i>Beginning in 2012, I was tasked at the Historical Division of the Alexandria VA Library with transcribing into a computer the hand-written diary of John Zimmerman, a local confederate soldier who kept a diary throughout the five years of the Civil War.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>While it was anticipated that the diary would be put on the library website, that did not occur and the sesquicentennial of the conflict has passed.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Believing that this fascinating document is worthy of more attention, I have prepared a summary in seven parts that will be posted here every four days<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>throughout April.</i></span></span></p>
<p class="p3"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><b></b></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span class="s1"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Part Five:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Paroled with a Secret Message;<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Protecting Richmond</span></b></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;">Zimmerman’s concerns about his guards soon receded behind his desire to be paroled, that is, to be exchanged and able to go South to rejoin his beloved 17th Virginia Regiment.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The release came for him on March 14, 1864, and the next day he with other prisoners in the exchange was put on a steamboat and taken to City Point, a base the Federals had established on the James River in Virginia.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>There under a flag of truce the newly freed prisoners were picked up by Confederate ships and taken to Richmond.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Only then, six days later, was the Alexandria private willing to disclose, even to his diary, his secret role as a courier:</span></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">Now that I am safe and on Southern soil, I must record my experience at Pt Lookout the day we were ordered to pack up to go South, which I did not think wise or prudent to do at that time.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>On hearing I was among those who were to go South for exchange my friend Mr. Atty Edey gave me two papers which he charged me to deliver in person at Richmond - one to Gen SW Randolph, Sec of War, and the other to Surgeon Gen Moore.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>These papers he had obtained (how I do not know) while he was visiting a friend then at Gen Butler Hdqrs while he was held there a prisoner awaiting an agreement between the two Commissions of Exchange. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></i></b></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><b><i></i></b></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">So after we were all in line and Capt Patterson had ordered Sergt Finnegan “to have the prisoners searched and all blankets taken away, to see that there were no cases of smallpox, and to turn back into Camp all who had letters,” I thought I was in for the war and possibly worse trouble if the papers I had in my pocket were discovered and I was greatly puzzled what to do, as I was told by Mr. Edey they were of importance to our Government and I was anxious to deliver them as I had promised.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I did not read them as I did not want to know their contents and could plead ignorance if they were found on me. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></i></b></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><b><i></i></b></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">After Capt Patterson kindly said I could go to my tent for the night I racked my brain for a plan to conceal them and after much thought I remembered two straps and buckle on the back of my pants, so I took off my pants and then the buckle and opening the two ends of the strap, and folding very small the two papers and pushed one in each end of the strap.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>And sewing up the ends and then on the buckle and buckling the ends together I was ready for Mr Yanks search.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>But must say I was somewhat scared and puzzled for the safety of the papers till I thought of the buckle and the two straps.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></i></b></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><b><i></i></b></span><br /></span></p>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl4civTmV2YscUG0q6Krx1cFZCZD28X1VfDacq7oX0fA3pMiCugo7RAU6IFBR9hkyWLl4HAtZzqfyy8UVW51LWnIH2l2t63KB-5RMmjmpI_Ym8uc676PXvJm5v_IHitfEhiV4R1tR8oJQ/s277/Gen_George__Randolph%252C_Secretary_of_War.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="277" data-original-width="220" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl4civTmV2YscUG0q6Krx1cFZCZD28X1VfDacq7oX0fA3pMiCugo7RAU6IFBR9hkyWLl4HAtZzqfyy8UVW51LWnIH2l2t63KB-5RMmjmpI_Ym8uc676PXvJm5v_IHitfEhiV4R1tR8oJQ/w159-h200/Gen_George__Randolph%252C_Secretary_of_War.jpg" width="159" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">General Randolph</td></tr></tbody></table><p class="p4"><span class="s1"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Will add, delivered the papers to the Sec of War, General Randolph & Sur Gen </span></i></b></span><b style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><i><span style="font-size: medium;">Moore.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The orders were issued by Gen Butler and were in regard to rebel prisoners of war.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>How Edey managed to get them I do not know, but I suppose through his friend who was in Gen Butler's office, but do not know in what capacity.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The less I knew of it just then, I thought, the better for me, so asked no questions.</span></i></b></p>
<p class="p5"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><b><i></i></b></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p5"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;">While Zimmerman was in Richmond he was able to draw back pay for his eight months in the prison camp as well as clothing and rations.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Although he had been paroled, he had not yet been declared officially “exchanged.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>As a result he could not immediately resume a combat role, leaving him relatively free to set his own course.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He visited his brother in Clarksville, Virginia; then traveled down to see his old comrades now encamped near Kinston, N.C.; returned briefly to visit relatives in Richmond; hied off to Gordonsville to stay with friends, and finally returned again to Richmond.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>There he obtained a permit from the War Department to visit the Tredegar Iron Works and State Armory, prime sources of war materials for the Confederate Army.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He was much impressed with the facility.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Although intermittently reporting to military authorities, Zimmerman did not receive the official notice of exchange until May 2,1964, fully six weeks after his release from the prison camp.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It allowed him to rejoin the 17th Virginia and he hastened back to the regiment’s encampment near Kinston. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;">Shortly after he arrived there his brigade was ordered north into Virginia to provide protection for Petersburg and the railroad lines between Petersburg and Richmond that were being threatened by Union forces. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Almost immediately the regiment was deployed west of Richmond to counter a Yankee cavalry raid against the Richmond & Danville Railroad at a place called Flat Creek Bridge in Amelia County.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>There, for the first time in months, Zimmerman would encounter what he often called “hot work.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>On May 14, the Union cavalry attacked with the objective of burning the railroad bridge, but the 17th held steady and repulsed the Yankees after a fire fight of four hours.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Describing the action in detail, he expressed satisfaction with the outcome to his diary:</span></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">We have had a pretty lively time today but we got through with the work much sooner than I expected and we beat the Yanks bad at their own game - and that with fewer men....They have paid dearly for their attack on us and from the rapidity of their movements on the ride, I think them a greatly demoralized force & broke down and [we] killed many horses and expect a large part of the command will have to be remounted should they succeed in regaining their lines.</span></i></b></span></p><p class="p4"><span class="s1"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></i></b></span></p><p class="p4"><span class="s1"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></i></b></span></p>
<p class="p5"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;">Two days later on May 16, the 17th Virginia would be deeply involved in another fight, this one more serious, known as the Battle of Drewery’s Bluff. Although a Southern victory, Zimmerman’s regiment lost a significant number of officers and men.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>As usual, he seemed to lead a charmed life.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He was struck in the chest by a nearly spent bullet that fell off his jacket and, as he recorded, “no harm done.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He described some of the action:</span></span></p><p class="p4"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhplIs-clggd9za4ZzS9D9Z35L6lq5elJXwFLsgTbuo75ESbOmoODchTdjjciCMX1Dd4DJzHpZ8PaGStQNxvgxpGk3_Yph1VzresDc3-iTunmLSpO5O6C8H-coJIkYf8wn5B36huQo6trw/s527/Dewery%2527s+Bluff.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="348" data-original-width="527" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhplIs-clggd9za4ZzS9D9Z35L6lq5elJXwFLsgTbuo75ESbOmoODchTdjjciCMX1Dd4DJzHpZ8PaGStQNxvgxpGk3_Yph1VzresDc3-iTunmLSpO5O6C8H-coJIkYf8wn5B36huQo6trw/w320-h211/Dewery%2527s+Bluff.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Battle of Drewery's Bluff</td></tr></tbody></table><p class="p4"><span class="s1"></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">Just then, off to our left, we saw very weird & novel sight:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>A long line of legs moving in unison and in battle order to their line of works.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The dense fog prevented our seeing their bodies above their waist, so making a rather uncanny scene.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>But soon the mist began to lift and revealed their line of uniforms, and we were ordered to throw off our knapsacks & blankets and prepare to charge, followed quickly by the order from Gen Corse, who had mounted the parapet of our works, “Foreward…Charge.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>And away we went over the top with a loud wild ringing yell such as only Confederates can give and on through the felled timber rifle pits and entrenchments of the enemy, driving them from all and then across a large field to a distance, I think, of full three quarters of a mile, killing and wounding many in our charge and capturing over a hundred Germans who could scarce speak a word of English.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></i></b></span></p>
<p class="p5"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><b><i></i></b></span><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoerzrwoWLFxvymf5CUR5qgBS9_a6VQdD5Cw8TTsc7HJrKv5Gg1HdPvsVVP_HAQDnZv1ce4DjN9ETbY7EGKIJEvHa_2MNDdHPCiK5sDEMmzIKfZfiZ0tUa2_hX_D0IUN2xJu39KlMiq3U/s702/chimborazo_map.gif" style="font-family: Helvetica; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="416" data-original-width="702" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoerzrwoWLFxvymf5CUR5qgBS9_a6VQdD5Cw8TTsc7HJrKv5Gg1HdPvsVVP_HAQDnZv1ce4DjN9ETbY7EGKIJEvHa_2MNDdHPCiK5sDEMmzIKfZfiZ0tUa2_hX_D0IUN2xJu39KlMiq3U/s320/chimborazo_map.gif" width="320" /></a></div><p class="p5"></p>
<p class="p5"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><b></b></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;">This would be Zimmerman’s last direct combat for almost a year.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Although the 17th was engaged in the bloody battle at Cold Harbor and again suffering significant casualties, Zimmerman was in the Chimborazo Military Hospital in Richmond.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Beginning on May 23, he was in great pain with his face swollen and one eye shut by what appeared to be an abscessed tooth. He was sent to the hospital where the abscess was lanced and he began to feel better, but again was struck by another violent pain in his face and head.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Doctors diagnosed it as “neuralgia,” the name given to a wide range of symptoms.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Recovering slowly he was not released from the hospital until June 7.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>By that time Cold Harbor was history.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>[End of Part Five]</span></span></p><p class="p4"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="p4"><span class="s1"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p>Jack Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01499431800088809848noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4158406346037964376.post-75840220656104309622021-04-15T05:35:00.004-07:002021-12-07T07:00:38.216-08:00"The Dark Clouds of War" -- Part Four<p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p>
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<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><b><i></i></b></span><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: center;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;">“<b>The Dark Clouds of War”</b></span></span></p>
<p class="p3" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><b></b></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: center;"><span class="s1"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">The Civil War Diary of John Zimmerman of Alexandria, Virginia (1861-1865)<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></b></span></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: center;"><span class="s1"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Transcribed, Edited and Narrated by Jack Sullivan</span></b></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><b></b></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p5"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><i>Foreword:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></i></b><i>Beginning in 2012, I was tasked at the Historical Division of the Alexandria VA Library with transcribing into a computer the hand-written diary of John Zimmerman, a local confederate soldier who kept a diary throughout the five years of the Civil War.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>While it was anticipated that the diary would be put on the library website, that did not occur and the sesquicentennial of the conflict has passed.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Believing that this fascinating document is worthy of more attention, I have prepared a summary in seven parts that will be posted here every four days<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>throughout Apri</i></span></span></p><p class="p5"><b style="letter-spacing: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></b></p><p class="p5"><b style="letter-spacing: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i> </i>Part Four:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>A Prisoner:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Washington, DC & Point Lookout, MD<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></b></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><b></b></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p5"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;">Zimmerman was now a Yankee prisoner of war. Although he expressed thoughts of escaping to his diary, he did not attempt it. He and his fellow prisoners were ultimately marched to Warrenton, Virginia, where on July 27 the captive rebels were loaded onto a train for Washington, one that took them into Alexandria. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p5"><span class="s1"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">We reached Alexandria about 7 P.M., the train stopping in front of Uncle Burton Richard's house, cor Duke & Fayette Sts., and soon we had a great crowd of friends & relatives rushing to the cars to see us.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>After an absence of over two years there was, of course, great rejoicing and very many questions asked and answered.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I saw Mother, sister Alice & brother Willie, Aunt Susan and Richards and many others.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>After a delay of about an hour we changed cars and moved on to Washington, amid a great waving of handkerchiefs and leavetaking as we slowly moved off.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We anticipate a happy day tomorrow when our relations and friends come to see us as all promised to do.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I was happy to see Mother, sister & brother.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>My great regret was not seeing Sister Laura.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>But what wonderful changes we noted during our very brief stay & in passing through of our old historic and much loved town.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It...has been through much of the war the base of supply for the great Northern Army and, of course, there is great bustle and activity in supplying their army and the constant movement forward of great and small bodies of troops and munitions of every kind.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></i></b></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p5"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;">The Yankees proved to be very lenient toward the captured Confederates, perhaps hoping the soldiers would defect.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>They allowed visits by relatives and friends and gave the prisoners meals somewhat more elaborate than the Southern army provided, as Zimmerman recorded on July 28, 1863:</span></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><b></b></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p5"><span class="s1"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">Throughout the entire day we Alexandrians have been kept busy, writing to and receiving our relatives and friends who have come up to see us.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Many from Washington also came to visit us, each bringing us something for our comfort or enjoyment - money, clothing, eatables, till our every want is about supplied. Sister Laura, Brother Will, Aunt Susan, Cousin Horace Johnson and many others called.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>John Summers sent me a large valise containing a complete suit of clothes, shorts.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Am sorry indeed that Mother could not come.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>They required her to take the Oath of Allegiance to the U.S. and she refused to do so.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>During the early part of the day they were permitted to enter the building and converse with us, but in the afternoon they were compelled to stand without the gate and talk to us. </span></i></b></span></p><p class="p5"><span class="s1"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"><br /></span></span></i></b></span></p><p class="p5"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkZCZuJIYRLf1rxgMs3fmZywiCX4ZR_pc5eC_NdGPsPYlTRGOwuOcFJB6_VBn5XvQ_xrVHCUv832LddfsJponYFGr_eJRCqyRDymt7DzZpBND47ST9Cu_5DS5B_3_aP4rBLGon1sR4Rt8/s800/Soldier%2527s+Rest.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; font-family: Arial; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="543" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkZCZuJIYRLf1rxgMs3fmZywiCX4ZR_pc5eC_NdGPsPYlTRGOwuOcFJB6_VBn5XvQ_xrVHCUv832LddfsJponYFGr_eJRCqyRDymt7DzZpBND47ST9Cu_5DS5B_3_aP4rBLGon1sR4Rt8/s320/Soldier%2527s+Rest.jpg" width="320" /></a><span class="s1"></span></p><p class="p5"><span class="s1"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></i></b></span></p>
<p class="p5"><span class="s1"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">We are now quartered in the “Soldier's Rest,” near the Baltimore & Ohio Depot and but a short distance from the Capitol.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>This building is used as its name indicates for a temporary rest for US soldiers passing to & from their Army.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It is a large frame building about one hundred feet long and twenty five feet wide and in rear of it is a large yard enclosed by a high board fence.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Guards are stationed at the gate and around the outside of the building to prevent our wandering off.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Another proof of their consideration for our comfort and happiness:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>a few steps off are several other large buildings for mess houses and quartering troops in transit to & from the Army.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>About 12 PM we were formed in line & roll called and we were then marched to the mess hall where we were furnished with dinner.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The mess hall is about eighty feet long & about twenty five feet wide and was decorated with wreathes and festoons of cedar and box.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It contained tables running the entire length of the building.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In front of each man as we stood was a plate and bowl and on each plate a thick slice of bread, two slices of boiled salt pork.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The bowls were used for drinking coffee, of which large wooden buckets full were ranged at intervals along the long lines of the tables and each one could help himself to as much as he wanted.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>This of course we greatly enjoyed as the coffee was delicious and we rarely see or taste it in Dixie.</span></i></b></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><b></b></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p5"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;">On the evening of July 30, 1863, Private Zimmerman and other prisoners were marched down to the wharf in Washington and embarked on the steamer, John Brooks, to Point Lookout, Maryland, the peninsula of land where the Potomac River and the Chesapeake Bay come together.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He was among the first prisoners to arrive there in a location which was just beginning to be developed as a large Yankee prison camp.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He enjoyed the view of the river and bay.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In early diary entries he complimented the Union soldiers for trying to make the prisoners comfortable.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>They were allowed to bathe in the Bay daily, catch crabs using a tiny piece of salt pork, and hunt on the beach for oysters.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>When some of his fellow Confederates objected to work details and some were punished, Zimmerman had a different perspective:</span></span></p><p class="p5"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif3bmPqI2v3s04l2aqwJNhqG_fsKrf8y2Kt6eP18kuIPr9kCm-4ZurOyB-D8nm60bSw7z3E9Tb1YuG9urR7wr3c4Lbv9wAmbY5dqM_0XvduBW44NvYRrHm5Puvnrbbz51YtA3hmqTqgZA/s543/ptlookout-2.jpg" style="font-family: Arial; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="543" height="221" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif3bmPqI2v3s04l2aqwJNhqG_fsKrf8y2Kt6eP18kuIPr9kCm-4ZurOyB-D8nm60bSw7z3E9Tb1YuG9urR7wr3c4Lbv9wAmbY5dqM_0XvduBW44NvYRrHm5Puvnrbbz51YtA3hmqTqgZA/w400-h221/ptlookout-2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p class="p5"><span class="s1"></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p5"><span class="s1"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>So I shall, when detailed for work in about the Camp for our comfort, will do it faithfully and without murmuring as I would in our own army.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I am trying to keep always before me for my line of conduct, that I am a Confederate soldier and so will do nothing unworthy of the name and cause, and will be true to my convictions and principles.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>But will also bear in mind that by the fortunes of war I am a prisoner of war and so will obey very strictly all orders & try to so conduct myself as not to bring reproach upon our cause or upon myself as a Southern Soldier and gentleman.</span></i></b></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><b></b></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p5"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;">With time, conditions changed drastically. As the population of the camp expanded and escapes from Point Lookout become more common, high walls were erected around the compound and earlier privileges were rescinded. The quality of the food deteriorated. Smallpox and other diseases became rampant in the camp.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>A bright spot was mail.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>For a time Zimmerman was able to correspond regularly with his mother, siblings and friends in Alexandria.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Packages containing food, clothing, books, writing paper, “greenbacks” (Union money), and other items were showered on him by family and other Alexandria residents who knew of his plight.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Among those he recorded sending items were his former employer J. H. Parrott, Mrs. J. B. Daingerfield, Miss Hattie Henderson, Miss Elizabeth Hazard, and Miss “Lizzie” Smythe.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Although Zimmerman was an Episcopalian, an Alexandria Catholic priest, Father Krause, sent him religious books to be given to Catholic prisoners.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He often distributed the largesse to his fellow prisoners, especially to those from Alexandria in the camp hospital.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Visiting the hospital on November 4, he found Willie Packard, the son of Dr. Joseph Packard of the Virginia Theological Seminary in Alexandria.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Over the next few days Zimmerman wrote:</span></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p5"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><i>Again at the hospital.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Wilie Packard very low.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Dr told me he could not live. I wrote to his father....I have spent much of the day at the hospital with poor Willie Packard.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In the morning he was delirious but was conscious in the afternoon and I read and conversed with him.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I hope he will recover but he is very ill....Willie Packard better today.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Was moved down to the Gen Hospital on the Point...Much shocked to hear of the death of Willie Packard.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He died on Monday at the Gen Hospital on the Point.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Heard his Mother came down today.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Have not seen her but would like much to do so and tell her of his illness in our camp. </i></b><i><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></i></span></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p5"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;">As winter bore on, the situation in the camp deteriorated further.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Many prisoners had inadequate clothing for the cold and wind.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Sickness was rampant.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Packages from relatives and friends were curtailed as was correspondence from the outside. The prevailing mood among prisoners at Point Lookout was boredom while hoping for an exchange.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Excitement occurred on February 25 when the New Hampshire troops that had been guarding the prisoners were relieved by black soldiers.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Zimmerman never expressed racist feelings to his diary and was strongly in favor of the South recruiting slaves as soldiers and freeing them at the end of the war.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>This changing of the guard, however, clearly bothered him:</span></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><b></b></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p5"><span class="s1"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">At last we are guarded by Negro soldiers and we have had great excitement in our prison Camp all day and I expected serious trouble to occur before night but thus far (7 PM) only one prisoner, Pat Suddith of my Regt (Co K) from Warrenton Va has been hurt.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He was struck brutally over his head by an officer with a large sized Colt revolver, causing the blood to flow freely but without breaking his skull.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We heard early this morning the Negro soldiers were to be put on guard and many assembled at the main gate to see them relieve their white comrades and how each would act.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The White guards were as angry as we were and we expected trouble - some saying they would desert at the first opportunity. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></i></b></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><b><i></i></b></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p5"><span class="s1"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">I think this was the cause of those attempting to desert last night from the Regt next to us (5th N.H.).<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We heard the noise and commotion and the firing and this morning could see two dead Yanks lying on the Beach and later we were told several other Yanks were wounded.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I think they were trying to escape in a boat.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>About nine AM, the hour for relieving the guard, the Negroes arrived and were marched up on the platform surrounding the camp on the outside of the wall and overlooking the Camp and its prisoners.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Some of the White guards refused to give the Negroes their instructions when relieved and the sergeants had to do it.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Four of the new Negro guards were then brought into Camp to relieve the guards at the Mess houses.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>They all had their guns and also had large Navy revolvers in their belts. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>They were accompanied by two Yankee officers and an orderly, all mounted and armed.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>One of the officers, seeing Suddith laughing at the comical appearance of the much scared Negroes in uniform, cursed him, calling him a traitor and telling him the Negroes were better than he was and struck him over his head with a large Colt revolver which he held in his hand, making an ugly scalp wound which bled profusely. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></i></b></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><b><i></i></b></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p5"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0923be_iD3zUIAx7spntPzNIoTnp-C8lJNHP0tG_fGWWcvlkz06AxDXNMd4b9HuUeLQBQ1QygQjau7xkviTSp7AW5vDDRcrCfcA8Fr8gC2Iy9g-imcjjB2B06IOkrUx2_yFBkXhYjLVc/s640/Fourth_US_Infantry_Detail__U_S__Colored_Troops__1864.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="405" data-original-width="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0923be_iD3zUIAx7spntPzNIoTnp-C8lJNHP0tG_fGWWcvlkz06AxDXNMd4b9HuUeLQBQ1QygQjau7xkviTSp7AW5vDDRcrCfcA8Fr8gC2Iy9g-imcjjB2B06IOkrUx2_yFBkXhYjLVc/s320/Fourth_US_Infantry_Detail__U_S__Colored_Troops__1864.jpg" width="320" /></a><span class="s1"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">Throughout the day they have had squads of Negroes marching through the camp streets, holding revolver in their [hands.]<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>This seems to have been done purposely by the Yanks to insult us and probably to pick a quarrel so they could have an excuse to fire on us, and their conduct throughout the entire day seemed to point decidedly to that end.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>They tell us if a Negro is hurt they will take one of the prisoners out and hang him .<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>During the day the gunboats laying off the Camp have been in position to fire on our Camp and their Regts of Infantry and Artillery have also been held ready for the same purpose.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Should we say or do the least thing to furnish the squads of Negros patrolling our streets with an excuse to fire on us, I fear some of the daring and reckless ones during the night will throw things at the Negro patrol and they will then fire into our Camp.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>A detail was ordered out to unload vessels on the Point but when a Negro guard was put over them, they refused to work but the Yanks by force compelled them to work.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Some of the Negroes guarding us, I am told, are owned by some of the prisoners here and others were recognized and are well known to other prisoners. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></i></b></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><b><i></i></b></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p5"><span class="s1"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">I must now stop as the Negroes are patrolling the streets with arms in their hands and calling out, “Put out dat 'ar light in dar.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>But the day will long be remembered by us and if our lives are spared we will make the Yanks pay dearly for the great and wholly unnecessary insults heaped on us today.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></i></b></span><span style="font-size: large;">[End of Part 4]</span></p>
<p class="p7"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p><p class="p7"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="p7"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="p6"><br /></p>Jack Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01499431800088809848noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4158406346037964376.post-67088788252214802742021-04-11T05:17:00.001-07:002021-04-11T05:20:10.494-07:00"The Dark Clouds of War -- Part Three<p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p>
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<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><b></b></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: center;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;">“<b>The Dark Clouds of War”</b></span></span></p>
<p class="p3" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><b></b></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: center;"><span class="s1"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">The Civil War Diary of John Zimmerman of Alexandria, Virginia (1861-1865)<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></b></span></p>
<p class="p2" style="text-align: center;"><span class="s1"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Transcribed, Edited and Narrated by Jack Sullivan</span></b></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><b></b></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><i>Foreword:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></i></b><i>Beginning in 2012, I was tasked at the Historical Division of the Alexandria VA Library with transcribing into a computer the hand-written diary of John Zimmerman, a local confederate soldier who kept a diary throughout the five years of the Civil War.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>While it was anticipated that the diary would be put on the library website, that did not occur and the sesquicentennial of the conflict has passed.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Believing that this fascinating document is worthy of more attention, I have prepared a summary in seven parts that will be posted here every four days<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>throughout April.</i></span></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><i></i></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span class="s1"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Part Three:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Hunted, Captured and Interrogated</span></b></span></p>
<p class="p5"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><b><i></i></b></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;">Following the first battle of Fredericksburg, John Zimmerman and the 17th Virginia Infantry Regiment spent that winter in a number of locations in central<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;">Virginia, seeing little action. In the spring, the unit would be part of the inconclusive siege of the Union garrison at Suffolk.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">Later the men were camped for a time near Hanover Junction. In his entry for May 25, 1863, at that location Zimmerman recalled that it had been exactly two years before that he had left Alexandria to fight for the Confederacy:</span></p>
<p class="p5"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">What a flood of memories come trooping through the mind as I recall the incidents of that (to us) memorable day.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Our being aroused about light in our barracks.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The hasty packing of knapsacks and falling into the hurried march through the streets to the Lyceum.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The assembling of the different commands.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Then the sound of the Yankee drums approaching.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Quick step, our march up Prince Street and on through West End.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The passing my home, with my Mother and sisters waving me on.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The stopping of the trains.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Our embarking and our arrival at Manassas and the entering of the soldier's life.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>And then follows the long, long train of thoughts of all I have passed through since that day and with these thoughts come the deep feeling of gratitude to Him who has cared for me and preserved me through them all and an earnest prayer that He will continue to do so to the end.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></i></b></span></p>
<p class="p5"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><b></b></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;">In June 1863 Zimmerman’s brigade was detached from Lee’s Army and sent to multiple locations in Virginia where Yankee attacks were feared.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>At the same time General Lee (“Marse Robert”) and General Longstreet (“Old Pete”) -- as Zimmerman often called them --moved through Virginia and invaded Maryland and ultimately Pennsylvania.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>As a result, the Alexandria private missed the major battles at Second Manassas and Gettysburg.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>On June 30, 1963, he was, as he recorded, “again moving,” this time to Richmond:</span></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">Since reaching the depot a number of our Alexandria friends have come up to see us.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Lt McKnight and the fine men who were captured at the South Anna Bridge - and who escaped - have rejoined.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>As they were being conducted to the rear after being captured, when they noticed a small body of our men they immediately broke from the guard and ran toward our men, holding up a white handkerchief as they ran.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The guard did not pursue them or fire on them and so they escaped, to their great joy.</span></i></b></span></p>
<p class="p5"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;">As Lee’s army retreated from Gettysburg in early July 1863, Zimmerman’s brigade was quickly sent north toward Winchester to help guard passes in the Blue Ridge Mountains where, it was feared, the pursuing Union Army would pour into the Shenandoah Valley.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He arrived on the scene on July 21, 1863, a day he recounted at length:</span></span></p><p class="p4"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7MBgdC9kLnHXrltRbPchOz7o3WCy4Tog9v2A_son8IwYaOcVBnOMrPJY1gHl11_1oWT3BBpLq4AV1SLEmIrhK74P6PfnyN0-2d8_mQDVuYsvd0LRDQ0ZPXVHckFQ5fE1vnU5ZGYnURIY/s700/Chester+Gap.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="525" data-original-width="700" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7MBgdC9kLnHXrltRbPchOz7o3WCy4Tog9v2A_son8IwYaOcVBnOMrPJY1gHl11_1oWT3BBpLq4AV1SLEmIrhK74P6PfnyN0-2d8_mQDVuYsvd0LRDQ0ZPXVHckFQ5fE1vnU5ZGYnURIY/s320/Chester+Gap.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><p class="p4"><span class="s1"></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">This has indeed been a eventful day to me, more than any other day of my life.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Adventure.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Danger and fatigue.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>A hurried march.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Fording two streams.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Toiling up the mountain.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>A lively race down.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Pursued by cavalry. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></i></b></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">Hiding in the bushes.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Captured. Questioned. Threatened.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>And in all, a prisoner under guard, and wondering what will be next. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></i></b></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><b><i></i></b></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">All were aroused before light this morning in our bivouac at Cedarville.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Then a hurried breakfast and about light the Brigade moved off briskly, taking the road for Front Royal.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Soon we heard from some of our Cavalry the enemy had possession of Snickers, Ashby, and Manassas Gaps in the Blue Ridge and were now moving across to Chester Gap and that we were being hurried over to get possession of the latter Gap.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Pushing on we reached the North and South Branches of the Shenandoah River, both of which were very high and the currents strong and rapid - particularly in the latter.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Several (myself among the number) came near drowning.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Gen Corse and his staff and the field officers of the Brigade being mounted rode about in the streams and rendered valuable assistance in rescuing the men<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>who were being carried down by the strong currents.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>My blanket, haversack, rations and ammunition got soaking wet when I was carried down.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Some lost various articles that were dropped in the river as they struggled in the swift current or rocky bed of the river. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></i></b></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><b><i></i></b></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">After crossing we met a portion of a Brigade of Cavalry who had been driven from Ashby's Gap on yesterday by the superior numbers of the enemy. From them we heard our cavalry still held Manassas and Chester Gap, though the enemy were hourly expected to arrive there.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Pushing on we passed through the town of Front Royal and after getting a short distance beyond the town my regiment was ordered to take the road leading up to Manassas Gap while the rest of the Brigade moved on to occupy Chester Gap. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></i></b></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><b><i></i></b></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK4vlFJ7R_4EP4J8EA2RUEhjsOoTO9u-oBwtUSuXSAI5ot9jGLh1QRhAmfxCRAIWCih7naln79cP-5B3X2WreICyKJncysEMxfqtW4ponzdIuKZzUYeYE8_mfnVS8dhhviPvGeSr5ityM/s1024/Union+Cavalry.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="846" data-original-width="1024" height="264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK4vlFJ7R_4EP4J8EA2RUEhjsOoTO9u-oBwtUSuXSAI5ot9jGLh1QRhAmfxCRAIWCih7naln79cP-5B3X2WreICyKJncysEMxfqtW4ponzdIuKZzUYeYE8_mfnVS8dhhviPvGeSr5ityM/w320-h264/Union+Cavalry.jpg" width="320" /></a><span class="s1"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">After marching about a mile and a half Co's “B” & “C” were detached and sent over on another road to Wappen to establish a picket.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We then were moved a short distance when we were halted and Co's “E,” “G” my Co “A” were detailed for picket under the command of Capt James Stewart of Co. “E.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The remaining companies were held at this point for a reserve.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The three Cos under Capt Stewart then continued on up the Gap.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>After marching about two miles </span></i></b></span><b style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><i><span style="font-size: medium;">over the rough winding mountain road and when near the top where we were to establish the picket, we discovered away off to our right on the mountainside a body of cavalry about three quarters of a mile off from us.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Some said they were Yanks; others, they were our men.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Capt S thought they were Confederates but ordered to “halt, close up and load.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>But before we could do so, we saw plainly they were the enemy and that they had discovered us and were moving down on us and were also making signals to others in their rear to come on.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I omitted to say that our road up the Gap skirted the mountain on the leftwards and on the right open country extending across towards Chester Gap.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It was through this open country the enemy's cavalry was moving down on us.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>So Capt S gave the order to fall back into the woods and move rapidly back to the reserve.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>And this we did. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Some, I with them, thought we could make better time in the road along the woods, kept part of the time in the woods and then in the road.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We were now all quite exhausted after toiling up the mountain and the long race down.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Some went further back into the woods thinking the cavalry would not follow them.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></i></b></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><b><i></i></b></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><b><i>I did the best I could to reach the reserve-some times in the woods and then would try the road.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I soon became completely exhausted and hearing the clatter of the horsemen just behind realized my only hope of escape was hiding in the thick scrubby bushes and taking advantage of a sudden sharp bend in the road,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I sprang into the woods and crept under a thick cluster of young pin oaks.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I had scarcely laid down under their friendly shelter when the Yanks came galloping up shouting and swearing at a furious rate.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Rounding the bend in the road they halted just opposite me.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Posted two men.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Formed line and charged down toward our reserve and soon I heard them popping away at our boys and they cheering and returning their fire very lively.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>And soon the minnies were singing merrily over and about me but I had only to lay close to avoid them or as our boys would say, “lay low and grab a root.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>But at times thought it likely a stray minnie would find me.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>That which I objected to was being shot by my friends.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Late another detachment came up and charged down in column and this continued until the whole regiment was send forward.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Later on I heard a movement in the undergrowth and raising myself slightly on my elbows, I saw a line of dismounted cavalry moving as skirmishers obliquely through the woods.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The line swept by me within a few feet of me but not one saw me.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I scanned their faces closely as they moved by and must say I never saw a more nervous, scared lot of men.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I owed my escape to their moving obliquely past me.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>[If] I had two or three of our men with me and we had given one good rebel yell in the woods, I believe the whole line would have taken to their heels</i></b></span><span class="s2"><i>.</i></span></span></p>
<p class="p5"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><i></i></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">Probably about an hour later a mounted officer from the front rode back through the woods with pistol from his holster in hand.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He halted two or three paces from the brushes under which & putting spurs to his mount moved off, to my great delight.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>My safety lay in his fixing his gaze directly in front at the open country.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>If he had but half turned his head I do not think he could have failed to see me.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I certainly was happy he moved forward down to the road, leaving me unseen and undisturbed.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>During all the time I could hear quite plainly the two troopers who had been posted by a big tree near me at the bend of the road, talking to each other.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>About three P.M. another mounted regiment came forward.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>This one moving across the great field in front and beyond the road [illegible] opposite me.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>After having been passed and repassed so often without being seen, I felt quite safe and thought at night I would make my way through the woods into our lines and rejoin my regiment.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Just then too I thought I would take a look at the newcomers and so parted the bushes a very little. But it was my undoing and all my hopes were blasted by hearing a keen-eyed trooper exclaim, “There is a gray back under the bush.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></i></b></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><b><i></i></b></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><i>They called to me to come over and surrender, so there was nothing left me but to do so.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>But to say that I was mad but feebly expressed my feelings; I was mad all over and with that Regt and that keen-eyed trooper in particular.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>And myself yet moreso for my imprudence in parting the bushes to look forward.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I arose and walked direct to the head of the regt., passing the cavalryman who had come forward for me.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Without speaking I walked up to a group of officers (the Adjt Lt Col & Col).<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The Adjt asked me what Regt and Brigade I belonged to.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I said that the 17th Va and that I had no further information.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Another then began to question me but I refused to answer questions.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Then another, the Col I think, said they had captured a number of my regiment & began to question me but I refused positively to give any information.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The officers then laughed quite heartily, probably at my stubbornness & temper I showed and ordered one of the men to take me to the rear.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></i></b>[End of Part 3]</span></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><br /></p><p class="p4"><span class="s1"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p>Jack Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01499431800088809848noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4158406346037964376.post-14327378052392258622021-04-07T08:45:00.003-07:002021-04-07T08:46:55.029-07:00“The Dark Clouds of War” — Part Two <p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p>
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<p class="p2"><span class="s1"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">The Civil War Diary of John Zimmerman of Alexandria, Virginia (1861-1865)<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></b></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span class="s1"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"> Transcribed, Edited and Narrated by Jack Sullivan</span></b></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><b></b></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><i>Foreword:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></i></b><i>Beginning in 2012, I was tasked at the Historical Division of the Alexandria VA Library with transcribing into a computer the hand-written diary of John Zimmerman, a local confederate soldier who kept a diary throughout the five years of the Civil War.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>While it was anticipated that the diary would be put on the library website, that did not occur and sesquicentennial of the conflict has passed.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Believing that this fascinating document is worthy of more attention, I have prepared a summary in seven parts that will be posted here every four days<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>throughout April.</i></span></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><i></i></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span class="s1"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"> Part Two:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Battle of Fredericksburg, Stonewall Jackson’s Funeral</span></b></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;">As McClellan withdrew his army toward Washington, D.C., early in 1862, the 17th Regiment was entrenching itself around Richmond.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Thereafter ensued one of the more bizarre adventures of Zimmerman’s military career.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He had become very sick, unable to report for duty, and was convinced he had malaria. From the symptoms he described, he probably was correct.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The Alexandria private sought out his commanding officer who told him to go to Richmond and remain there until he got well.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The boarding house in which he first lodged was expensive and he decided that he should go to the country for his health.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Borrowing civilian clothes, Zimmerman headed for Clarksville, Virginia, where his brother, Taney, lived.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>After spending three weeks there convalescing, he determined to return to his regiment.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>By this time the 17th had moved north with Lee’s Army toward fierce battles at Second Manassas and Antietam. Once again the 17th would take heavy casualties.</span></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;">Zimmerman set out from Clarksville to find his unit.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>At first by train and then completely on foot he traveled over the Virginia countryside, trudging through Culpeper and Warrenton before being told by an officer he should go to Winchester.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>His told his diary that day:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><b><i>Am sorry for this as it will give me a long march & am getting footsore as my shoes are nearly gone after the many miles on the road.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Am told it is about 50 miles to Winchester.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></i></b> He did not hurry.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Along the route he stopped for several days to see friends in Paris, Virginia, and later lingered with an acquaintance at his Blue Ridge Mountain home.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Barefoot by the time he reached Winchester, Zimmerman was not allowed by military authorities there to cross the Potomac into Maryland and join Lee’s Army.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>When the troops returned to Winchester, after seven weeks away Zimmerman was reunited with the 17th.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>After the battle at Antietam, the bloodiest single day in the Civil War, he found only eleven men left from his original Alexandria Riflemen.</span></span></p><p class="p4"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLJhj_CceQ9l5nCzeIZeMeFJRjoafzMsGCCjMlbkCRugmi231Ol9Xyukh8wLD3jXFtMOJOGbMd1OUakpNnbClmjwAQYKA6bQwhEXDFooLBu2aKUOuLXoaAaNFzwWO4Tmi1IRExzUlHsMY/s800/overview-Battle-of-Fredericksburg-American-Civil-War.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLJhj_CceQ9l5nCzeIZeMeFJRjoafzMsGCCjMlbkCRugmi231Ol9Xyukh8wLD3jXFtMOJOGbMd1OUakpNnbClmjwAQYKA6bQwhEXDFooLBu2aKUOuLXoaAaNFzwWO4Tmi1IRExzUlHsMY/s320/overview-Battle-of-Fredericksburg-American-Civil-War.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p class="p4"><span class="s1"></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;">With his extended absence apparently not a problem for his military superiors,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Zimmerman rejoined his colleagues for long bivouacs around Winchester and Culpeper.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>With news late in 1862 that Union General Burnside, who had replaced McClellan, was heading toward Fredericksburg with an army, the 17th Regiment and other troops were sent to reinforce the city.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Zimmerman described the battle <i>[illustrated above]</i> that ensued in great detail but he personally saw little action.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It was December and for weeks he had been seeking an overcoat.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Obtaining permission to visit the battlefield after Union forces had retreated, Zimmerman recorded that he had “never before seen bodies strewn so thick on any field.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>That did not deter him from stripping a dead Yankee of an overcoat or from this escapade:</span></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><i>Moving on toward the lower end of the town I saw Maj Fairfax of Longstreet's staff, preceded by the flag of truce & followed by two or three hundred prisoners.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>A guard had been placed to prevent our men from passing to that end of town, but I wanted to go down to the river to see the prisoners sent over, so buttoned up the captured blue overcoat I had on to hide my uniform.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I watched my opportunity and slipped in among the prisoners and at the word “Forward March,” I stepped beside a Yank & marched off with them down to the river.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Soon after we arrived pontoon boats with white flags flying started to cross to our side of the river & an officer stepped ashore bearing a roll of paper & approached Maj Fairfax.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Maj F delivered him a roll bearing the names of the prisoners & they began to move toward the pontoons.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>So I unbuttoned my blue overcoat & stepped out from among them.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The guard took in the situation at once & laughed at my trick to get to the river.</i></b><i> <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></i></span></span></p>
<p class="p5"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;">After Fredricksburg, Zimmerman’s brigade went into winter bivouac at Falling Creek, Virginia.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Always bored with life in camp, that he repeatedly described as “monotonous,” he was eager to attend the May 1863 funeral of Stonewall Jackson who had been fatally wounded at the Battle of Chancellorsville. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Going up to Richmond, apparently with permission, he reunited with the convalescing Charles McKnight.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Zimmerman described in detail the funeral procession and added this story:</span></span></p><p class="p4"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAVy1B2KVzkEMYOpJVlU8FhVEQwZVMExt1gNFolTZGSydk8aFG-kT3Ba-CHdNzNTIEH2Ik2wJMT3y1HbU5KWdvpwPXd1Pn_OKjd7WxRCrQusrWCDlegorHiEWhJVLppax_k2LpVUF3yhE/s600/Jackson+funeral.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="350" data-original-width="600" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAVy1B2KVzkEMYOpJVlU8FhVEQwZVMExt1gNFolTZGSydk8aFG-kT3Ba-CHdNzNTIEH2Ik2wJMT3y1HbU5KWdvpwPXd1Pn_OKjd7WxRCrQusrWCDlegorHiEWhJVLppax_k2LpVUF3yhE/s320/Jackson+funeral.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p class="p4"><span class="s1"></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><i>Just before the procession moved an old Veteran who had lost his right arm was seen making his way through the great throng and as the order had been given to clear the building, someone told the old soldier he was too late but he continued to struggle along toward the casket when one of the marshals attempted to turn him back.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>At which the old man held up the stump of his arm and with tears flowing down his cheeks, exclaimed, “By this arm which I gave for my country I claim the right to see my General once more.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Governor Letcher, who happened to be near, could not resist the very earnest appeal and so gave the order that the old soldier should be granted his wish and the lid of the casket was removed and the old man took a last look upon the face of his old Commander. </i></b>[End of Part Two]</span></span></p><p class="p4"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="p4"><span class="s1"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="p4"><br /></p>Jack Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01499431800088809848noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4158406346037964376.post-35013291885625857332021-04-03T06:35:00.003-07:002021-04-03T06:37:26.228-07:00“The Dark Clouds of War” — Part One <div class="separator"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; display: inline !important; text-align: center;"><b style="letter-spacing: 0px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; display: inline !important; text-align: center;"><b style="letter-spacing: 0px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The Civil War Diary of John Zimmerman of Alexandria, Virginia (1861-1865)<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></b></div></span></b></div><p></p>
<p class="p2"><span class="s1"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"> Transcribed, Edited and Narrated by Jack Sullivan</span></b></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><b></b></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><i>Foreword:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></i></b><i>Beginning in 2012, I was tasked at the Historical Division of the Alexandria VA Library with transcribing into a computer the hand-written diary of John Zimmerman, a local confederate soldier who kept a diary throughout the five years of the Civil War.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>While it was anticipated that the diary would be put on the library website, that did not occur and the sesquicentennial of the conflict has passed.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Believing that this fascinating document is worthy of more attention, I have prepared a summary in six parts that will be posted here every four days<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>throughout April.</i></span></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><b></b></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span class="s1"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Part One:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>From John Brown to the Battle of Seven Pines</span></b></span></p>
<p class="p5"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;">From the outbreak of the Civil War, a 22-year-old Alexandrian and a Confederate Army private named John R. Zimmerman resolved, in his words, <b><i>“to keep a diary of events as they occur during the war (should my life be spared) which may prove of interest to me in after years.”</i></b> <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He was faithful to his vow and daily, seemingly whatever the conditions, penned an entry of what had occurred that day.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Because he participated in the conflict from the very outbreak of hostilities until Lee’s surrender at Appomattox, his diary is a rich source of information for subsequent generations about the war, as seen through the eyes of a young soldier with a quite evident taste for adventure.</span></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;">On May 24, 1861, Zimmerman began his account by lamenting the outbreak of the conflict:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><b><i>“After vainly hoping the dark clouds of war which have been so long hanging over us would be turned aside, we find we are doomed to disappointment.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Hostilities have begun in Virginia.”</i></b><i> <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></i>A member of what previously had been called the Alexandria Riflemen and subsequently became Company A of the 17th Virginia Volunteer Regiment, he then looked back to the Fall of 1859 and his earlier deployment to Harper’s Ferry, at that time in Virginia:</span></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM5Vl_GRyvyLLxAaTvQP59BmM95ZCMmdeTTvRaHEtnAxlane3svK3KPLDusdREcNP7FW8Vjhpqj8NIN0t1uJaur090xHuk4k_9dBlOxfE8ckNXz5hUnZK6BwN_q1zP8MgRCD7e-fnS6Gc/s740/seated.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="740" data-original-width="437" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM5Vl_GRyvyLLxAaTvQP59BmM95ZCMmdeTTvRaHEtnAxlane3svK3KPLDusdREcNP7FW8Vjhpqj8NIN0t1uJaur090xHuk4k_9dBlOxfE8ckNXz5hUnZK6BwN_q1zP8MgRCD7e-fnS6Gc/w118-h200/seated.png" width="118" /></a><span class="s1"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">I was with the Co. at Harpers Ferry during the John Brown raid into and after </span></i></b></span><b style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><i><span style="font-size: medium;">his trial and conviction.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>With others from the Co. was ordered to Charlestown by Gov. Wise and I was present at his execution.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In the intervals of guard duty I visited him in the jail and talked with him. He said the great mistake he made was in in letting the train leave Harpers Ferry thereby notifying the government of his seizing the gov armory. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></i></b></p>
<p class="p5"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><i></i></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;">Leaving Harper’s Ferry after the execution, Zimmerman and his unit returned to Alexandria. Months later as war seemed imminent the Alexandria Riflemen went into barracks in the Stoneybrook Building at the northeast corner King and Columbus Streets.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>They drilled daily, anticipating hostilities.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The moment came on the morning of May 24, 1861, a day after Virginians voted to leave the Union, Federal troops stormed across bridges and from ships and barges in the Potomac to take possession of Alexandria.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Zimmerman and his comrades packed up and hurriedly left town.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He described what happen next:</span></span></p>
<p class="p5"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><b></b></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">We continued our march through West End - passing my home - my mother and sisters at the door and waving us on.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>When about a mile outside the city saw the trains, which had been sent off to return each night for security, coming in.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Maj. Case rode down to the tracks, signaled the train & turned them back to the crossing where we boarded them and moved on to Manassas, arriving about 1 PM.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We found assembled there about two thousand troops including our Battalion & the 17th Regt.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></i></b></span></p>
<p class="p5"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><i></i></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieMhR6k-aXfp1tAgLDEi21pYFXcjp_VbrVDyKX9cwI3Tjd2_6c8b534c5RZ4Iy3d7UwG8a8lvy2TiMZqcu_tTFLJC9M1togpOpacz8Pnq85JHmATXGbDH2qy9gEXD3_sfF0T0MAE6yaCQ/s1960/The_photographic_history_of_the_Civil_War_-_thousands_of_scenes_photographed_1861-65%252C_with_text_by_many_special_authorities_%25281911%2529_%252814576298017%2529.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1960" data-original-width="1960" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieMhR6k-aXfp1tAgLDEi21pYFXcjp_VbrVDyKX9cwI3Tjd2_6c8b534c5RZ4Iy3d7UwG8a8lvy2TiMZqcu_tTFLJC9M1togpOpacz8Pnq85JHmATXGbDH2qy9gEXD3_sfF0T0MAE6yaCQ/w200-h200/The_photographic_history_of_the_Civil_War_-_thousands_of_scenes_photographed_1861-65%252C_with_text_by_many_special_authorities_%25281911%2529_%252814576298017%2529.jpg" width="200" /></a><span class="s1"><b style="letter-spacing: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></b><span style="font-size: medium;">Zimmerman would be assigned to the 17th Virginia for the duration of the war. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Over the next few weeks, the troops bivouacked along Bull Run, initiallly without tents,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>drilled frequently and readied for a Yankee attack. General Lee visited the camp on May 28.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Zimmerman, who often referred to him as “Marse Robert,”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>described the visit: <b><i>Gen. Robt. E. Lee arrived and was greeted with hearty cheers as he is well known to many of us Alexandrians and was often seen on the streets of our city when he rode from Arlington & sits his horse with wonderful grace and dignity. It is a real pleasure to gaze upon him.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Indeed I do not think I ever looked upon a nobler form.</i></b></span></span></p>
<p class="p5"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;">The expected clash came in mid-July 1861 when word was received that Federal troops had begun their long expected march from Washington toward Manassas. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The 17h Virginia was deployed to Blackburn’s Ford, about three miles from the town and a point where a road crossed from Manassas to Centerville.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>One of the first serious skirmishes of the Civil War occurred there as Union forces sought to occupy the location.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Zimmerman reported:</span></span></p>
<p class="p5"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><b></b></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><b><i><span style="font-size: medium;">Gen. Longstreet, who stood near me, noticed the fire....Gen L now ordered my Co & one other across the stream to attack the enemy and away we went, the Gen cheering us as we dashed through the water and rushed up on the hillside and were soon among the enemy....We drove back the enemy skirmishers, killing and wounding some and capturing a few prisoners.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Their main line on the plateau above us did not advance to attack us and later we rec'd orders to re-cross the stream and on reaching the West side were relieved by the 7th La Regt and another Regt of Gen Early's Brigade that had been ordered up to support our line....After our artillery opened up, just to our right we heard nothing more from the enemy's infantry but their artillery on both sides kept up a rapid fire for about an hour.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>But as we were protected by the bluff or hills opposite us we suffered no harm beyond the bringing down of tree tops and big branches on us.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>My Co lost one man killed (Tom Sangster) & one slightly wounded.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The loss in our Brigade I hear was 68 or 70.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The enemy had the advantage of numbers, position, and heavier guns but we won in the fight.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The affair lasted from about 12:30 to 5 P.M. and our men are in fine spirit over our success in this our first fighting event.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It was not a big battle but believe it only a prelude to one.</span></i></b></span></p>
<p class="p5"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><i></i></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;">Zimmerman was right.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The next day the battle known as First Manassas or Bull Run occurred, the first major clash of the war.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Again the result was the same.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The Confederates were victorious as the Federal forces fled from the field.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Zimmerman would not see action in that battle because the 17th Virginia was held in reserve but then participated in the pursuit of the Union forces.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He called it “a glorious sight”:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><b><i>At every stop we had abundant evidence of their complete rout and panic:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>quarters of beef were hanging on the trees by the wayside, piles of boxes of crackers & coffee, pots and kettles for cooking, blankets to haversacks, rubber blankets to canteens.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>They seemed to have been completely panic stricken and in their flight had thrown away everything that would impede their flight.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></i> </b><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;">After chasing the beaten Yankees for two hours, Confederate troops were ordered to return to Bull Run.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Zimmerman observed:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><b><i> I cannot imagine why the pursuit was abandoned.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>All of us were in high spirits over our victory and were anxious to press on.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>And we had three or four or more brigades of fresh troops who, while they had been under fire all day, had taken little active part and had suffered but little loss.</i></b><i> <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></i>Military historians, with the benefit of hindsight, have asked the same question that Zimmerman did on the day of the battle.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>While highly respectful of his superior officers,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>the Alexandria youth was not shy about questioning their tactics, at least to his diary.</span></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;">After Manassas, Zimmerman and the 17th went into camp near Centerville where they stayed for the winter, which was unusually harsh, resulting in extreme hardship and considerable sickness among the troops.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>With the coming of spring, the regiment moved south to help protect Richmond from the army of Union Gen. George McClellan.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In April, 1862, they engaged in a major battle at Williamsburg.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The 17th took heavy losses with 65 officers and men either killed or wounded, about one-third of its strength.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Zimmerman emerged unscathed. </span></span></p><p class="p4"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"><br /></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVjidl4kMfsuznbNSpAXWiZVvzGzmoamXPTyF3w1PpXwICRrQ2gnEtzj9NXzq1GvDEWLAby4ZeameGiKVX90fyxd3EDVnhVZKIO9hHzGDy1GOa7mWaLoQEkDzllqGJ8fi9tME1M4AGm3Q/s1200/dp-nws-battle-of-williamsburg-20130818.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="399" data-original-width="1200" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVjidl4kMfsuznbNSpAXWiZVvzGzmoamXPTyF3w1PpXwICRrQ2gnEtzj9NXzq1GvDEWLAby4ZeameGiKVX90fyxd3EDVnhVZKIO9hHzGDy1GOa7mWaLoQEkDzllqGJ8fi9tME1M4AGm3Q/w400-h133/dp-nws-battle-of-williamsburg-20130818.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p class="p4"><span class="s1"><b style="letter-spacing: 0px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></b><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;">His diary account of the battle was curiously devoid of details.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He described the aftermath, however, saying:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><i>“</i><b><i>Sorry we had to leave so many of our brave comrades, many of whom because of their fearful wounds we could never hope to see again on earth.</i></b><i>” <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></i> He broke from the ranks in order to find his comrade and fellow Alexandrian, Charles McKnight, who had been wounded but would survive.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>At the makeshift hospital Zimmerman ran down a row of cots and saw his commanding officer, Captain Humphries, unconscious and dying.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Not finding McKnight he rejoined his regiment as they marched to meet Union Forces around Richmond at the Battle of Seven Pines.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Like Williamsburg, this was a fearsome battle.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Zimmerman described the scene:</span></span></p>
<p class="p5"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p4"><span class="s1"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><i>We were under a terrible fire from the enemy's artillery and also their line of battle now formed along a body of woods in our front.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Our loss at this time was very great and I do not think at any time during the war shall we be under a heavier fire.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Belgian rifle shells, minie balls, cartridges, buck shot & ball fall like hail about us.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The enemy fired low and many were shot after they had fallen.</i></b><i><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></i>Once again the 17th took considerable casualties.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Zimmerman was not hurt.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>[End Part One.]</span></span></p>
<p class="p1"><br /></p>Jack Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01499431800088809848noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4158406346037964376.post-70382352601404925232021-03-20T08:39:00.004-07:002021-03-20T08:40:38.335-07:00 Keeping A Promise to Mom<p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span style="text-align: left;">On my first trip to Asia as a graduate student in 1969, I</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="text-align: left;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;">connected with Frank Albert,</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="text-align: left;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;">a American University classmate and former Peace Corps volunteer in Laos, who now was toiling with the U.S. Information Agency in Thailand. </span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="text-align: left;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;">We met in Bangkok and took the night train up country to the northern town of Nakorn Phanom where Frank lived. </span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="text-align: left;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;">From the beginning my objective was to get to Vientiane, Laos, just across the Mekong River to fulfill the heartfelt wishes of my Mother.</span></span></div><p></p>
<p class="p2"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Those wishes require some background.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">The Ziemers were longtime Toledo neighbors and friends.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">The family belonged to an evangelical Protestant sect called the Christian and Missionary Alliance (CMA) in which many adherents become missionaries.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">Marie and Rev. Bob Ziemer for many years ran a highly respected leprosarium in the highlands of South Vietnam near Ban Me Tuot.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial;"> </span></span></p><p class="p1"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1hg_l1UbvMewkAB1Som0kqEBcRJ9G0CmRzy7thshyphenhyphenUYLuNnex_7a8Inb2I_Xat16-SKzuykyoTiqCFHGr0eHjveBGOSkP3DzPWOlGIwyvaWGphc3Xsq0zn5Bul5UH8SQWGXNfKu3HicI/s152/1.+ziemer-robert.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="152" data-original-width="130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1hg_l1UbvMewkAB1Som0kqEBcRJ9G0CmRzy7thshyphenhyphenUYLuNnex_7a8Inb2I_Xat16-SKzuykyoTiqCFHGr0eHjveBGOSkP3DzPWOlGIwyvaWGphc3Xsq0zn5Bul5UH8SQWGXNfKu3HicI/s0/1.+ziemer-robert.jpg" /></span></a></p>
<p class="p2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">They avoided the violence of the Indochina War until the Tet Offense of 1968. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Then North Vietnamese soldiers appeared and shot all the Americans.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Bob and four other missionaries were killed.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Marie, severely wounded, survived by feigning death.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Their daughter Beth and her husband Rick Drummond were away and escaped the slaughter.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Marie came home.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The Drummonds were sent to a mission in Vientiane, Laos.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>My Mother, quite unknown to me, for years had been providing financial support to the leprosarium. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>She asked me to seek out the Drummonds in Vientiane and gave me a check to pass on.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">While that seemed a simple mission, complications arose.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Laos was an independent country, ostensibly neutral, where a passport and visa were required to gain entry.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I was OK but Frank, my Lao speaker and guide, had no passport because it was being renewed at the Embassy in Bangkok. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><i> “Let’s boat across the Mekong and take our chances at the border,”</i> I suggested. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Reluctantly he agreed but insisted that I also go <i>sans</i> passport.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We drove to a small Thai village immediately across the Mekong from Vientiane. There Frank convinced a local police official to write out a document claiming we were known to him (and not dangerous spies).<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>After signing, he handed it to Frank with a torrent of language. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>“<i>What was that all about?”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></i>I asked as we left the office.<i> <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></i></span></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><i></i></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1"><i><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>“He says this document isn’t worth the paper it’s written on.”</span></i></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGh3IkTEINzDhPd3BGCj05sdlIgs2ObuVdfahS0aq-awk3-AcEMeyHgKeO4ExGHNgJWpJXl4plXX2ZbtGnUbrGfTgtIWMov-O0XIn2DIKRS2kgIZOhF2BKYDR83HPoY7_Wy_naCa1eDLw/s512/2.+oOuYySXkx5uRf3tNZ_gR33_cIGAjWv2bINA2OaJM_FSyhDDA9WQADK8PpALVFOTZFTPTRktrlJK0rVMyZTOfTOPpf7wjsVV4Qp2raBIFeFk17w.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="383" data-original-width="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGh3IkTEINzDhPd3BGCj05sdlIgs2ObuVdfahS0aq-awk3-AcEMeyHgKeO4ExGHNgJWpJXl4plXX2ZbtGnUbrGfTgtIWMov-O0XIn2DIKRS2kgIZOhF2BKYDR83HPoY7_Wy_naCa1eDLw/s320/2.+oOuYySXkx5uRf3tNZ_gR33_cIGAjWv2bINA2OaJM_FSyhDDA9WQADK8PpALVFOTZFTPTRktrlJK0rVMyZTOfTOPpf7wjsVV4Qp2raBIFeFk17w.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><p class="p1"><span class="s1" style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Unsettled but undeterred by the news, we hired a water taxi -- actually a glorified rowboat with a small outboard motor -- to take us across the muddy Mekong,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>a distance of about a half mile. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>When we hit the shore, Frank bounded up the steep bank, brandishing the paper, spouting Lao like a machine gun.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The sight of a six foot two inch,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>220 pound <i>farong<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></i> speaking their language like a native seemed to mesmerize the guards and within two or three minutes we had cleared the border and were on our way by taxi into town.</span></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p1"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdj-N706t1h-ItrxNHvzpgF7pKQliaTQQLVy9Lxz9hdCFtaf5viwZCUxxVXa_1Xl9f3C4ff1Q02eel-2NSeK98JWVpeZnZ3ww_LFeZuEbIfM5FPo5xJXZQqt9YRoVwew2GqZmZYlMwYfM/s1067/3.+Laos+Christian+Churchjpg+copy.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="800" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdj-N706t1h-ItrxNHvzpgF7pKQliaTQQLVy9Lxz9hdCFtaf5viwZCUxxVXa_1Xl9f3C4ff1Q02eel-2NSeK98JWVpeZnZ3ww_LFeZuEbIfM5FPo5xJXZQqt9YRoVwew2GqZmZYlMwYfM/w150-h200/3.+Laos+Christian+Churchjpg+copy.jpg" width="150" /></span></a><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial;">I had the Drummonds’ address and after a few wrong turns, we shortly arrived at the</span></span><span style="font-family: arial;"> Protestant church in Vientiane. </span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">We found Rick in an adjoining house but Beth was away. </span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">We spent some time talking to him about the tragic events of the previous year and their subsequent lives.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">I passed on my Mother’s check and good wishes.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">As we rose to go, Rick offered to</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">drive us back to the border.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">We agreed.</span></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><i>“Stop,” </i>he said as we waved goodbye and headed to the river,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><i> “I want to take your picture.” <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></i>We obliged but those few seconds were all it took for the Lao border guards to regain their composure.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><i> “We didn’t get any money from those Americans on the way in,</i>” Frank heard one say.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><i> “Let’s get it now.”</i></span></span></p>
<p class="p2"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="s1"></span><br /></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><i>“Run,”</i> Frank commanded and we bounded down the steep embankment.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I looked back to see the guards following us. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Fortuitously, a water taxi was just leaving with just one brown-clad monk as a passenger. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He watched wide-eyed as we splashed toward the boat and flung ourselves headfirst into the bow.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Within seconds we were on the open river and on our way back to Thailand.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The guards turned away in disgust.</span></span></p>
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<p class="p1"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkGwfA_JAHwqVoTXyEyFZFVGR96lQio1lysJT2cA5yw3k54nPDqAcPmw4Eyed7iANRyBPRYwTgLFNbmgSZaFmnZdu2Yc58nf-RGeu76wCd1PnyqI58SX4iqqtx9HYkoUGpuLsIfA6KMjg/s2048/4.+obit-sullivan-1-superJumbo.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1603" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkGwfA_JAHwqVoTXyEyFZFVGR96lQio1lysJT2cA5yw3k54nPDqAcPmw4Eyed7iANRyBPRYwTgLFNbmgSZaFmnZdu2Yc58nf-RGeu76wCd1PnyqI58SX4iqqtx9HYkoUGpuLsIfA6KMjg/w156-h200/4.+obit-sullivan-1-superJumbo.jpg" width="156" /></span></a><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Several years later I was chatting with Bill Sullivan, who was the U.S. ambassador to Laos at that time, and mentioned being in Vientiane in 1969.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><i>“I don’t remember your visit,”</i><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Sullivan (no relation) commented. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">“<i>If we had been caught,”</i><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I responded,<i> “you definitely would have known.”</i></span></span></p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1" style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><i><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>********</i></span></p>Jack Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01499431800088809848noreply@blogger.com0