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Three Comrades:
The remembrances, poems and letters
of three comrades in the
Grand Army of the Republic
Compiled by
Robert L. Nelson
The content of this article is the responsibility of the individual author.
It is the library’s intent to provide accurate information, however, it is
not possible for the library to completely verify the accuracy of all
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�THREE COMRADES
The Remembrances, Poems and Letters of Three
Comrades in the Grand Army of the Republic
Compiled by
ROBERT L NELSON
�PREFACE
During the last quarter of the nineteenth century, and the first quarter of the twentieth, the
American Civil War began to be viewed as an epochal event in the eyes of its participants. At the
conclusion of the war in 1865, returning veterans attempted to put the killing, carnage and
destruction of the previous four years behind them as they rebuilt their lives. By the 1880’s
however, the suffering they had seen and experienced twenty years earlier were beginning to
dissipate and be replaced by a pride in what they had accomplished. As this feeling grew, veterans
began perceiving themselves as a unique band of comrades who had participated in the great
American adventure, which would never be repeated. Organizations such as the Grand Army of
the Republic, representing Union veterans of the Civil War, continued to fuel this attitude. They
encouraged “comrades,” to share their remembrances in books, articles and letters in order to
ensure that the nation would never forget what they had achieved. Among Civil War veterans
living in Santa Cruz, California who shared their remembrances and impressions were three
members of a local GAR post. Their contributions provide us with a window into the war
experiences of young soldiers and sailors, their veteran organization, civilian concerns and the
lives of their aging comrades in veteran homes.
While gathering information for OLD SOLDIER, the History of the Grand Army of the Republic
and the Civil War Veterans of Santa Cruz County California, published by the Santa Cruz
Museum of Art & History in 2004, individual reminiscences, poems and letters were encountered
that cried out to be preserved in a contemporary context. “Three Comrades” is a compilation of the
writings of three local Civil War veterans that appeared in the Santa Cruz Sentinel newspaper. In
their writings Andrew Kane, Isaac Blaisdell and Caleb Todd shared their remembrances, feelings
and observations.
On November 22, 1885 the Santa Cruz Sentinel began the first of a series of eighteen articles
ending on March 14, 1886 recounting the Civil War experiences of Andrew Kane, a local veteran
originally from Indiana. In his Remembrances of the War Kane shared his experience as a young
soldier serving in the Union Army’s Army of the Tennessee in the western theater, continuing
through the Carolinas and concluding with his discharge and return home.
The sea battle adventures of Massachusetts’s sailor, Isaac Blaisdell, published in the Santa Cruz
Sentinel on March 30, and April 11, 1886 provide a glimpse of naval engagements in which he
participated during the Civil War. In his Letters to the Editor, from the late 1880s until his death
in 1902 Blaisdell shared veteran concerns and served as a local “gadfly” in addressing other issues
of the day.
In 1908 Caleb Todd, a Santa Cruz carpenter who had served in an Illinois regiment in Tennessee
during the war, was admitted into the Sawtelle Soldiers Home near Los Angeles. Over the next
ten years he contributed over thirty-seven letters to the Santa Cruz Sentinel describing the life and
experiences of old soldiers living out their days in that Southern California facility.
Included in the contributions of Isaac Blaisdell and Caleb Todd are a number of poems. Although
the style and wording may appear antiquated to contemporary ears, they were typical of the poetry
�of that period. Readers also need to assume a “then and now” attitude when judging the
appropriateness of the racial names used. The epithets the authors applied, which today may be
considered crude or offensive, were commonplace in their society and have been left unchanged.
The original spelling and punctuation used by the author and/or publisher have also been left as
they originally appeared.
Between 1865 and the death of the last Union veteran in 1956, Civil War veterans came to
envision themselves as a unique and privileged fraternity. That feeling became so imbedded in
their belief that they chose to let the Grand Army of the Republic die with its last member rather
than become diluted by the inclusion of non Civil War veterans. As you read these remembrances,
poems and letters it is hoped that a better understanding of our nineteenth century veterans and the
fraternal bond existing among them might be obtained.
nels
Robert L Nelson
Santa Cruz, California
January 3, 2014
�INDEX
Remembrances of the War Andrew H. Kane
Page 2
The Voice of the GAR
Isaac L. Blaisdell
Page 43
Life at the Soldiers Home
Caleb J Todd
Page 77
�REMEMBRANCES OF THE WAR
By Andrew Hill Kane
Andrew Kane
(1841-1912)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Andrew Kane provided harsh, vivid images of the Civil War, along with a lighter view of camp
and field life in a series of eighteen articles appearing in the Santa Cruz Sentinel between
November 22, 1885 and March 14, 1886.
Andrew Hill Kane, the son of Morrison and Rhoda Kane, was born on August 5, 1841 in
Hendricks County, Indiana. His parents, originally from Stokes County, North Carolina, had
moved to Indiana 1832. When the Civil War began Andrew was living in Ashland, Indiana, and
enlisted as a musician in Company A of the Fifty-ninth Indiana Infantry Regiment at Spencer,
Indiana on October 10, 1861. He remained with that regiment throughout the war.
As a musician Kane served with the band in providing cadence music for the regiment while
marching, and signals during its field operations. When in battle he also functioned as a medic in
attending the needs of the sick and wounded. At the conclusion of his enlistment on April 14,
1865 he was honorably discharged at Wilmington, North Carolina, and returned to his home in
Indiana. Three years later, on October 25, 1868 Andrew married Martha Brady in Fremont, Iowa.
In 1870 their daughter Rhoda Kay was born, and the family moved to Jackson in Amador County,
California where Andrew worked as a miner. A son Fred was born into the Kane family in 1876,
and sometime prior to 1882 the family relocated to Santa Cruz, California.
During his early years in Santa Cruz Andrew was employed as a carpenter, and later worked as a
policeman. Kane later affiliated with the J.F. Reynolds post of the Grand Army of the Republic
and served in most of its offices, including that of commander. While living in the community he
also became an active member of the Santa Cruz Odd Fellows lodge. By 1900 Kane had left the
carpentry trade and subsequently worked as a salesman, night watchman and census enumerator.
During a trip to San Francisco in July 1902, Andrew was hit by a streetcar and suffered internal
�injuries that remained with him throughout his life. By October of that year his condition had not
improved and he admitted himself into the Veterans Hospital at Sawtelle, California for surgery.
After returning to Santa Cruz, he attempted part time work as a yardman in a lumber company, but
was later forced to return to Sawtelle for additional medical assistance. Andrew remained in that
Southern California facility until early 1909 when he was moved to the veteran home in
Yountville, California. On May 13, 1909 at the age of 70 Andrew Hill Kane died and was buried
in the veteran home’s cemetery.
Source Reference: http://www.santacruzpl.org/history/articles/905/
�BRIEF REGIMENTAL HISTORY OF THE 59TH INDIANA
(Source: http://www.civilwarindex.com/armyin/59th_in_infantry.html)
Officers: Colonels, Jesse I. Alexander, Jefferson K. Scott, Thomas A. McNaught; Lieutenant
Colonels, Jefferson K. Scott, Thomas A. McNaught, Edward J. McBride; Majors, Elijah Sabin,
Thomas A. McNaught, Edward J. McBride, John E. Simpson.
This regiment was organized at Gosport in the fall and winter of 1861 and was mustered in Feb.
11, 1862. It left the state Feb. 18, and preceded to Commerce, MO, being the first regiment to
report to Gen. Pope for duty with the Army of the Mississippi. It moved to Benton and thence to
New Madrid, participating in the siege of that place and being one of the first regiments to enter
the town and take possession of Fort Thompson. It then marched for Tiptonville and assisted in the
capture of over 5,000 prisoners. It embarked for Fort Pillow April 12, returning on the 17th, and
then proceeded to Hamburg, TN. Gen. Buford was assigned to the command of the brigade to
which the 59th was attached. The regiment was engaged from April 24 to May 29 in the
movements connected with the march to and siege of Corinth, and then joined in the pursuit of the
enemy to Booneville, Miss. Returning to Clear creek near Corinth June 13, it remained until Aug.
6 and then removed to Jacinto where it remained until Sept. 7. It then moved to Rienzi where it
was joined by 250 recruits from Indiana. It was engaged in the battle of Corinth in October and
pursued Gen. Price to the Hatchie River, after which it moved successively to Grand Junction,
Davis' mills, Moscow, Oxford, and Lumpkins' mill. On Dec. 26, it started for Memphis as escort
for the commissary train, then returned to LaFayette and back to Memphis, where it went into
camp and remained until Mar. 1, 1863. It then moved to Helena, Ark., and embarked Mar. 12 on
the Yazoo river expedition. It then took up the march for Vicksburg and reached Port Gibson just
as the battle closed. With the 1st brigade, 7th division, 17th army corps, it was engaged at Forty
Hills, Raymond and Champion's hill. Its skirmishers were the first to enter Jackson and its flag the
one to float over the capitol dome. It formed the rear-guard for the 17th corps at the Big Black
River and was the last regiment to cross and then destroy the bridges. It served in the trenches at
Vicksburg, joining in the assault of May 22 with heavy losses, 126 being killed or wounded. It
marched into Vicksburg July 4 and remained there until Aug. 5, when it moved for Helena. On
Sept. 28 it reembarked for Memphis and then moved to Glendale, where it remained until Oct. 17.
It marched for Chattanooga, took part at Missionary Ridge, and went into camp at Bridgeport,
Ala., where it was transferred to the 3d division of the 15th army corps. It was in camp at
Huntsville from Dec. 26, 1863, until Mar. 3, 1864, when it proceeded to Indiana on furlough
having reenlisted as a veteran organization on Jan. 1. It returned to Huntsville Apr. 3 and remained
there until June 22, when it left to join Sherman's army. It reached Kingston, Ga., July 1, and
guarded the bridge over the Etowah River until Aug. 26. It was then ordered to Chattanooga and
marched from there in pursuit of Wheeler's cavalry. It moved to Tullahoma Sept. 1, returning on
the 21st, and escorted a wagon train as far as Cartersville, Ga. It was again at the Etowah River
from Sept. 28 to Nov. 12, when it proceeded to Atlanta and accompanied the army to Savannah. It
marched through the Carolinas to Raleigh, thence to Washington City, where it participated in the
grand review; was then transferred to Louisville and mustered out July 17, 1865. During its term
of service the regiment traveled 3,756 miles by rail, 4,618 miles by water, and 5,305 miles on foot.
The original strength was 721; gain by recruits, 1,195; reenlistments, 240; total, 2,156. Loss by
death, 221: desertion, 32; unaccounted for, 158.
�SANTA CRUZ SENTINEL ARTICLES BY ANDREW KANE
NEW MADRID AND ISLAND NUMBER 10
(Santa Cruz Daily Sentinel Nov. 22, 1885)
In the fall of '61 I concluded to volunteer and do what I could toward putting down the Rebellion.
The battle of Bull Run and other lesser engagements had been fought in which the Union cause
had come out second best; in fact things looked gloomy for the cause of the Union. On the 20th of
September I enrolled, and on the 9th of October, amid the tears of mothers, sisters, sweethearts,
and hope-to-meet-again smiles of "the girl I left behind me," we started for the appointed
rendezvous of the 59th Indiana Volunteers at Gosport. We arrived in the town on the same
evening, and were kindly cared for by the citizens. The next morning we marched to the
fairgrounds about a mile distant, where a kind of camp oath was administered, and we were shown
our quarters. These were stalls which had been used by the horses and cattle brought there for
exhibition. We proceeded to remodel these and make them suitable for habitation. On retiring to
bed the first night I overheard a conversation between two of our boys in the next stall. It seems
that one of them was going to disrobe and go to bed as he had been accustomed to at home, when
the other made the startling announcement that they would be called out so quickly the next
morning that they would not have time to dress. Volunteering was slow at this time, and it was
three weeks before the next company came into camp. Our company being the first, we drilled
twice a day, and between times amused ourselves by dancing, wrestling, jumping, etc.,
occasionally making a raid on the neighboring apple orchards.
Our First Battle
A protracted meeting was going on at one of the churches in town, and we were in the habit of
attending, not so much because we were religiously inclined, but rather to see the pretty girls that
also came regularly. As a matter of course we became acquainted with the young ladies and some
of the boys were in habit of escorting them home. The boys in towns were very much incensed at
us for thus getting away with their best girls, and threatened vengeance dire. The climax was
reached on the evening of November 2d, when about thirty of us, after leaving church, were
attacked by twice our number of town boys. The fight at once became general, clubs; staves,
brickbats and knives were used. After about twenty minutes hand to hand fighting they got the
best of us, and we had to retreat. We formed a line of battle in the suburbs, but the enemy did not
again attack us. The casualties were great. None were killed, but nearly every man in our
company was wounded, and the other side fared no better. The next morning we were ordered to
fall in, and the Adjutant read the following order:
Hdqtrs 59th Indiana Volunteers
Camp Hughes, Gosport Ind.
November 3d 1861
General Order, No. 2- Hereafter no non-commissioned officer or private will be allowed to go to
the town of Gosport without a pass from these headquarters. By order of J.I. Alexander Col
Commanding T.J. Lee Acting Adjt.
That put a stop to our going to town. In fact we were not anxious to go, for the boys there
�generally made it warm for us when they got a show.
On the 11th of February 1862, we were mustered into the United States service, and a few days
later we left our old camp and boarded the cars for New Albany. Here we drew our first tents of
the Sibley pattern, and went into camp. Nothing now occurred while we were here, except the
passage through of the 13th Michigan. They were a fine body of men, and were anxious to get to
the front. About the middle of February we boarded the steamer Atlantic and steamed down the
Ohio River.
In due course of time we arrived at Cairo, at the mouth of the Ohio. Here we saw the first signs
of grim-visaged war. Commodore Foote's flotilla of gun boats were anchored in the stream while
a large number of steamers were at the landing discharging their cargoes of prisoners and war
material captured by Grant at Fort Donelson. The prisoners were sent to Camp Douglas by the
way of the railroad. The gunboats showed unmistakable signs of the conflict. Their smokestacks
were shot full of holes, and in some instances were entirely gone, and great dents in their armor
showed the accuracy of the enemy's aim. The small arms captured were of all patterns from a
single barreled shotgun to a Mississippi rifle. We changed pilots and our steamer's prow was
turned up the Mississippi river. The ice was running and the steamer's paddles would pick up
great flakes and throw them against the wheelhouse making a terrific noise. We steamed up the
river sixty miles to the town of Commerce, Mo., where we landed and went into camp. We now
learned that we were a part of a force gathered here under the command of General John Pope for
the reduction of New Madrid and Island No. 10. Our first necessity was transportation. We had
plenty of wagons and wild mules. The latter had to be broken to harness and the teamsters had all
the fun they wanted in breaking them.
About the 25th of February we left Commerce for New Madrid. The enemy obstructed the
woods by felling trees, but we were not delayed, and at Sikeston our cavalry overhauled the enemy
under Jeff Thompson and worsted him capturing two field pieces. On the second night out we
camped at Benton, the county seat of Scott County. Our company had the Courthouse for
quarters. The papers in the Clerk's office were scattered all over the room. The night was rainy
and quite cool. We found a small stove but no wood. I skirmished round and found some law
books, which made a good substitute. We made our coffee and told our stories that night
according to the "Code of Missouri."
On the afternoon of the 3d of March we arrived in front of the enemy's works at New Madrid.
After making a strong reconnaissance and locating their works, we fell back out of range of their
heavy guns and went into camp. Here we had our first actual experience in army life.
We were green in everything, cooking in particular. We received bread rations in flour instead of
hard tack. This we had to make into "flap jacks," fried in bacon grease. They were very
unhealthy, and soon a large number of the boys became sick and were sent to the hospital.
We had a number of skirmishes with the enemy, without any material advantage on either side.
Our regiment made an attempt to capture a rebel gunboat, which was tied to the shore above their
upper works, but we were discovered and got a good shelling for our trouble.
The citizens in our vicinity came in frequently with wagons loaded with farm produce, cakes,
pies, etc. These sometimes came to grief through the pranks of some of the boys, who would take
a linchpin out of the axle, and when they started up down would come the wagon, and in the
excitement the cakes and pies would generally disappear. A serious accident occurred here about
this time. A number of citizens and soldiers were examining a percussion shell thrown from one
of the rebel gunboats, and after passing it round for each one to look at the last man threw it on the
ground, when it exploded, killing and wounding eight men. General Pope brought up some siege
�guns and things were becoming lively when, on the morning of March 14th, we found the enemy
gone. They left in a great hurry, abandoning all their artillery wagons, tents, etc. I saw card
tables with cards and whisky on them the latter poured out, to be left untasted.
On the night of April 4th the Carondelet ran the blockade of Island No. 10, and the Pittsburgh on
the 6th. On the 7th our division under General Schuyler Hamilton, crossed the river and marched
to Tiptonville. Here we came upon the rebels, under General Mackall, who surrendered without
firing a shot. That night was one of the worst I experienced during the whole war. The rain
poured down in torrents. We stood around fires with our rubber blankets on the whole night
without sleep.
A young man in our regiment found his father among the prisoners. The old man did not seem to
be particularly overjoyed to see his son, and seemed to regret that he had gone in with "you all."
We returned to our old camp at new Madrid, and had a grand review. General Pope had all the
bands play an old tune, called "Era Extension," after which we boarded some transports and
started down river.
*
SIEGE OF CORINTH
(Santa Cruz Daily Sentinel Nov. 28, 1885)
In my last letter I stated that the army under Gen Pope was on its way down the Mississippi river,
our destination being Fort Pillow. We landed on the Arkansas shore near Osceola, while
preparations were being made to lay siege to the Fort. Talk about mosquitoes, we had to go
aboard the boats and sleep on account of them. Another soldier and myself started out fishing.
We went down the river till we came to a canebrake. Here the mosquitoes were so thick we had to
turn back. A number of mules were stung about the head and neck by the insects until they died;
rather a tough story to tell but true nevertheless.
While we were stopping here the transports, to the number of fifty, were tied to the shore. One
day a small steam tug, of which we had several, caught fire. To get it away from the steamboats
was the great object. The men in charge turned it toward the middle of the stream, turned on a full
head of steam, jumped off and let her go. She ran out to about the middle of the river where she
turned, [and] ran down the stream quite a distance. Again she turned toward the shore and came to
within 100 yards of the helpless steamboats; again she turned ran up the river a ways, then turned
and ran out to the middle of the stream where she blew up. The excitement as very great, as none
of the steamers had steam up and consequently they could not get away. A few days after this we
received orders to go up the river again and reinforce Gen. Grant at Shiloh. We passed up the
Mississippi to Cairo, then up the Ohio to Paducah, then up the Tennessee River to Hamburg,
where we landed. We moved out beyond the town and took position on the left flank of Grant's
army. In coming up we saw a number of dead bodies floating in the river, soldiers who no doubt
had been drowned in trying to swim the river while the battle of Shiloh was in progress. As we
passed through our camps I noticed a soldier tied up by the thumbs. This was the first and last
time I ever saw a man punished in that way. His two thumbs were tied together, and the cord was
tied to the limb of a tree in such a manner that he could not touch his heels to the ground. He
belonged to the regular army, and they were very strict in enforcing order. Gen Halleck came
down about this time and took command in person. Now came the tedious part of the campaign.
We would advance three or four miles and then fortify, until the country between the Tennessee
River and Corinth was one continued breastwork. An order was issued by Gen Halleck calling all
�the army out in line just before daylight and standing so until sun up. This was done to prevent
another surprise such as was experienced at Shiloh. Halleck's great dread was a general
engagement, and it required close watching on his part to prevent some of the subordinate
Generals from bringing one. When we were nearing Corinth we came to a swamp about a mile
wide. This we bridged or corduroyed, as it was called, and when completed Gen. Pope marched
his command over and we formed a line of battle in the cleared fields beyond. An order from
Halleck to fall back was obeyed, but before our rear regiments were ready to cross, the enemy
appeared and a gallant charge was made by the Second Iowa Cavalry, which held them in check
until all got safely over the swamp. This regiment was terribly cut up, and it was reported that
they charged further than intended, because the bugler lost his instrument and could not sound
retreat. A painful accident happened about this time. Our brigade commander, Col. Worthington,
of the Fifth Iowa accompanied by this Adjutant, Patterson, was making the grand rounds about
two o'clock in the morning, when by some mistake they got outside the picket line and in returning
they rode directly on to a picket who, mistaking them for rebels, fired, the ball striking the Colonel
in the head, killing him instantly. Gov. Morton of Indiana, made us a visit at this time, and in a
speech gave us all the encouragement he could. He was second to none in looking out for the
wants of his soldiers. Shortly after this we again crossed the swamp and our advance became
engaged in a skirmish with the enemy. Our regiment halted and was resting when the rebels threw
a few shells over us. Our Chaplain sat on his horse and his darkey cook stood beside him. When
the second shell came along the Chaplain took fright and spurred his horse into a thick clump of
young oaks. The darkey followed suit as fast as his legs could carry him. As he passed me he
dropped his master's tin cup. I called his attention to the loss, when he sung out, "No time for
picking up tin cups now." The Chaplain and darkey made good their retreat, followed by the hoots
and yells of the entire regiment. We continued to advance and skirmish with the enemy until the
night of the 29th, when explosions in Corinth gave notice that they were evacuating the place. We
entered the town next morning and found the enemy gone. We followed them as far as
Booneville, capturing about three hundred prisoners. Our last night in this pursuit was a very
disagreeable one. It rained hard and the ground was covered with mud and water. I procured
three rails and lay down on them with my knapsack for a pillow and my rubber blanket over me.
Fresh meat was scarce on this trip and on coming to a plantation the only living thing suitable was
a superannuated guinea. I gave chase. After running him for half an hour I finally brought him
down with a club. I cooked him but failed to eat him, on account of his toughness. We came back
to a place called Clear Creek and went into camp. Here we remained until the 5th of August,
when we broke camp and marched to Jacinto, remained there a few days and moved to Rienzi.
Here we staid till after the battle of Iuka in which our regiment did not take part. When [Generals]
Price and Van Dorn threatened Corinth we evacuated Rienzi and went to reinforce the above
named place. I was sick at the time and was riding with others in open army wagons. The sun
was very hot and I became delirious, so much so that when were crossing the Tuscumbia River I
jumped from the wagon into the water, a distance of twenty feet. The water as quite deep and I
escaped uninjured. We went into camp in an old field in the suburbs of Corinth. Here we had a
number of large tents all filled with sick and disabled soldiers. All old soldiers will remember sick
call. This tune was played by drum and fife in infantry regiments and on the bugle in cavalry and
artillery. The First or Orderly Sergeant would take all the sick in his company to the Surgeon's
tent to be examined, the doctor would look at your tongue and then give you a wine glass full of a
mixture of quinine and poor whisky, which he always kept at hand. Army doctors generally gave
the same dose to all patients, not matter what was the disease.
�*
THE BATTLE OF CORINTH
(Santa Cruz Daily Sentinel Dec. 6, 1885)
Gen. Rosecrans, with about 20,000 men occupied Corinth when [Generals] Price and Van Dorn,
after their discomfiture at Iuka, attempted its capture. The battle opened on the morning of the 3d
of October 1862, by an attack on our advance, some five miles from town. The fighting continued
all day and resulted in our troops being driven back to an inner line of fortifications, which had
been prepared some time before. I mentioned in my last letter that I was in the hospital, which
was located in an old field to the east of town. Those of us who were able to do anything were
kept busy on the first day's fight helping the teamsters haul in knapsacks, which the troops had left
when they went into the battle.
About daylight, on the morning of the 4th, the rebels opened on us with a battery, and their first
shell struck within two hundred feet of where I was sleeping and killed a mule. My awakening
was rather rude, as I didn't feel very well, and a morning nap would have done me good. Another
shell went through the front door of the Tishamingo House, which we were using for a hospital,
and killed a wounded soldier.
About eight o'clock a staff officer came along and called for all able bodied about the hospital;
again about 9 A.M. came another officer calling every man that could hold his head up. This last
order took all of us who were not actually sick abed. The rebels had broken our lines and were in
town, having possession of Rosecrans' headquarters. The knapsacks we had hauled in the day
before were all piled up and got ready to be fired at a moments notice. My first impression that
things were going badly was the army of sutlers, clerks, darkies, etc., who came on a dead run
down the street making for a place of safety. The sutlers threw open their doors and told
everybody to help themselves. But the most of the crowd were more anxious to save their lives
than to lose a minute in carrying off goods. However, I did notice one soldier moving to the rear
at a double quick with all the new boots he could carry in his arms. He was an attached of the
hospital, and did not belong to the front. I took my position in one of the large tents and carried
water to the wounded. I would fill my canteen and give them water to drink and bathe their
wounds, and so continued until the battle was over. Some of the soldiers were very cross when
only slightly wounded, and did not always speak pleasantly to the surgeons, as they should have
done. I remember a surgeon, who was slightly under the influence of liquor, having a wordy war
with a wounded soldier, which culminated in the surgeon drawing his revolver to shoot him, but
other parties interfered and saved the poor fellows life.
When the battle was over I went to the front near battery Powell and assisted in getting the rebel
wounded to the hospital. I passed along where our brigade had fought, and our battery was a
perfect wreck. All the horses, some eighty in number, lay dead and wounded were mixed up
among them. The enemy captured this battery, but failed to hold it or carry off any of the guns.
But around Battery Robinett was the greatest carnage. Here [Gen] Van Dorn massed his Texas
and Mississippi troops under Gen. Walker for a final effort. Here the charge was led by Walker in
person. With the rebel flag in his left hand, and his revolver in his right, he advanced, leaped the
ditch, scaled the parapet, waived the flag and was instantly killed, his body rolling into the ditch.
One after another of the Confederates seized the flag and tried to plant the staff in the ground, but
all were killed. The last to attempt it was a Chaplain, and he, too, was killed. At this moment a
soldier from Ohio named Gould seized the flag, a rebel held the staff, and a pulling match took
�place. The rebel was killed and Gould mortally wounded, but the latter held on to the colors. The
flag was of a silk and a very handsome one, and with the exception of a rent about a foot long,
caused be the struggled for its possession, it was intact. The Governor of Ohio sent Gould a
Captain's commission for his part in the battle, but before it arrived the heroic soldier was dead.
I visited Battery Robinett about two weeks after the battle. A long trench near by was the graves
of all the Confederates who fell near the fort. A few feet to their right of the works was the grave
of the brave Walker. It was nicely rounded up, and a piece of board was stuck down at the head
and a piece of paper fastened in a split at the top, with the name of Gen. Walker. I took a look
around to see if I could find anything for a souvenir. In this search I saw a beech stump about one
foot in diameter, and the same in height, that carried the marks of thirteen canister shot. Talk
about men being killed, the wonder is that any escaped! On the morning of the 5th, all the army
started in the pursuit of [Gen] Price, leaving two companies of the Second Iowa Cavalry to guard
Corinth. About noon some darkies, who were down at the creek watering horses, saw half a dozen
bushwhackers. These hostlers came into camp as fast as their horses could run, yelling rebs and
bloody murder generally. The two companies of cavalry started to the rear, and some officers at
the hospital got all the convalescents in line around them, and started across an open field to some
breastworks. It was the largest regiment I ever saw, when it started there being at least 1500 men
in the ranks, but when they got to the works about half a mile away they only had about 500, the
remainder being scattered along the line of march.
It took the ambulances all the evening to haul them in. Shortly after this I was sent to the general
hospital, located in and around the seminary. Here were several acres of tents in which were
congregated some five thousand sick and wounded including those left behind by [Generals] Price
and Van Dorn. Next to the seminary was a huge pile of rough coffins, such as the Government
furnished to bury its dead; these were a forcible reminder to the patients that in all probability their
turn would come next. I was there three weeks in this hospital, and for downright agony of mind I
never experienced its like. The groans of hundreds of wounded continually saluted my ears.
These groans were in all keys; from the feminine cry of the boy perhaps not over sixteen years of
age, to that of the middle aged man. I would hear the cries and shrieks of certain ones until I knew
them by their voices. Perhaps some morning one particular voice would be missing. I knew too
well what that meant. When the dead cart came along I would see carried out and placed therein
one whom I had only known by his agonizing cry of pain.
We had an eccentric individual in our tent by the name of Davis. He had been in the Mexican
war and now belonged to a Missouri regiment. He was always hungry; he was wounded in the
thigh by a pistol ball. One day he got a board for a crutch and sallied forth in search of grub. He
was gone about half an hour, when he returned with a ham bone, which he proceeded to pick with
great gusto. While speaking of eating I will say that none of us had anything to brag of. Just
before meal time a waiter would pass through the different wards and place on each bunk a tin
plate, tin cup, knife, fork and spoon; then another would come along with bread; behind him
another with coffee and tea; the fourth waiter would bring some apple sauce, if for breakfast; for
dinner we would have some bean soup or rice. Soldiers are different from civilians, the sicker one
becomes the hungrier he gets. I can state, so far as my experience goes, that the average hospital
was no place to get fat. I remember a kind-hearted old lady who passed through the different
wards and gave each of us a cup of lager beer. This would have been acceptable every day, but
she only came twice a week. When the wounded became convalescent they were sent north by
States. For instance, to day all the sick and wounded able to travel, from Ohio, would be put on
the cars and sent away, tomorrow Illinois and so on. When Indiana's turn came we were all put on
�the cars and sent to Columbus, KY. Here we took steamer for Paducah; there we landed and went
to what was called the Gothic Hospital. The property, I believe, had formerly belonged to General
Tilghman, the same that was captured at Fort Henry. I was here about six weeks, and I can't
particularly brag of my experience, but I learned some of the mysteries surrounded these
institutions. I found out that all the delicacies sent South by the Sanitary Commission did not
reach the sick and wounded, but a large percentage tickled the palates of the hospital stewards,
ward masters, nurses, etc. Such things were pronounced unhealthy for sick folks. In lieu of this
we got plenty of beef soup, bean soup, rice etc. The convalescents had to keep their rooms in
order, and when it came James Murphy's, (of the 36th Illinois) time to sweep he positively refused.
The surgeon was sent for, who gave him the alternative of sweeping or going to his regiment. He
said he would die before he would "swipe," so he was sent to the front. After I had been here
about three weeks I was considered well enough to do some work, so I was promoted to third
cook, my duties consisting mainly in washing dishes. But I fared better. It was now my turn to
get a pop at the sanitary goods; in fact we fared sumptuously every day. We had a colored man
and his wife doing the washing- Uncle Tom and Aunt Chloe. They had run away from their
master, so who should come one day but this slave owner and an officer, looking for the former's
chattels. Uncle Tom and Aunt Chloe got wind of it, and some of the boys in the hospital took
them in a skiff and rowed them across the Tennessee River, where they remained until their
former owner had gone. About the first of December thirteen of us started for our regiments. We
followed the same route we came back to Jackson, and from there we went by train to Grand
Junction. Here we were told we could not get transportation any further. Grant's army was below
Oxford on the Yoconapotosi (Yokocona) River, so we had to look out for a ride down there.
About dark a freight train came along, and when it stopped we tried the doors and found one
unlocked. We all got in and closed the door. On examination we found the car was loaded with
sutler's goods and of course we didn't bother anything. We rode all night in this car, and at
daylight next morning we got out at Holly Springs. From here we joined our regiments at the
front. A curiosity in the shape of a round stone, about the size of a hen's egg, was found near our
camps. Put one of them in the fire and when it got hot it would explode with a noise like a pistol.
The officers in vain tried to prevent this racket, and every night the guardhouse would be full of
offenders. Occasionally some one would slyly fill the Colonel's fire full of these stones, and in a
few minutes such a shooting around headquarters you never heard, but no one did it. About this
time [Gen] Van Dorn captured Holly Springs and burned all our rations, and Gen. Grant's
cherished plan of assailing Vicksburg from the north was abandoned. We fell back leisurely to
Memphis, where we went into winter quarters.
*
THE YAZOO PASS
(Santa Cruz Daily Sentinel Dec. 13, 1885)
In my last letter I stated that the army under Gen. Grant went into winter quarters at Memphis.
We had nothing to do here but eat, sleep, and grow fat, with the possible exception of now and
then making an excursion into the country. On one of these expeditions a young lady showed me
a finger ring made from a Yankee's bone by her "feller" who was in Lee's army. My recollection
is that the bone was procured after the first battle of Bull's Run. She was very proud of her ring
and would not part with it on any terms. I had a good opportunity during this winter to see
Southern life as it was, and after mature deliberations I came to the conclusion that they were
�having a fine time, niggers to do all the work, absolutely nothing to do but drink whisky and
"chaw terbacker." I attended church and was interested in the style put on by the ladies, they
having a colored man in attendance carrying foot stools, etc., which he placed in the pews. He
then retired to what is known as the colored gallery, where he remained until the services closed
when he returned and carried home the same articles he brought. I saw a lady on the street one
day, accompanied by a little Negro boy, perhaps six or seven years of age. The lady wore a dress
with a very long train. When she came to a place where the walk was muddy, at a given signal
this little darkey would shoulder up her train and carry it along until the obstruction was passed,
when he would lower it to the ground. The circumstance was a novel one to me, and I kept watch
and saw this repeated several times. About this time, 1862, there was a mutual understanding
between the two armies that all surgeons should be allowed to go free, or in other words should
not be made prisoners of war. While on an excursion at this time, our regimental Surgeon went to
a house some distance from the road to get something to eat, a band of guerillas surprised and
captured him. They took his horse and equipments and started him for the road, a number of them
following, using the toes of their boots freely. Our doctor was a sadder but a wiser man when he
got to camp.
On the first day of March 1863, we got aboard transports and started down the Mississippi river.
This expedition had been the theme of conversation among the soldiers for some time, and by a
great many held in mortal dread. One man in our regiment exposed himself to the small pox, and
got that disease so he could escape the campaign. Another, just before the boats left the wharf,
jumped from the hurricane deck into the river. A loud splash was heard; his hat floated down the
current, but he passed under a steamer and was seen no more.
Another of interest occurred until we reached Lake Providence, La. Here we landed, and an
attempt was made to open a new line of travel for steamers by way of the lake. A large crevasse
or break was made in the levee, and a large stream of water flowed inland, the Mississippi being
very high, but for some cause the experiment was a failure. We again got aboard our transports
and came up the river to Helena, Ark. Here we landed on a sand bar and waited for orders. These
soon came in the shape of what is known as the Yazoo Pass expedition. Our regiment got aboard
the steamer John H. Dickey, and we started on this, the most perilous of all inland streams. We
entered the Pass, which is not more than fifty feet wide and very crooked. After about half a mile
we came to what is called half Moon Lake. This is a crescent shaped piece of water, about a halfmile wide and perhaps three miles long. We passed through this and again entered the pass. Our
troubles now begun with the stream so crooked, and choked with overhanging trees, that we had to
take smokestacks down before we could get along. We could only travel in daytime, and we could
easily see back to where we started from in the morning.
One steamer lost her pilothouse, it striking against a limb of a tree which carried it clear off the
boat and landed it in the water. The steamboat Pike, having on board the 17th Iowa, ran on a snag
and sunk. Here and there through the woods could be seen barrels of pork from the steamer's
cargo floating in the water- a fine prize for some hungry reb. We finally emerged into the
Coldwater River and had better sailing. The first high land we came to we stopped a day to kill
gray backs. They were small animals a few sizes smaller than a squirrel. We had good luck in our
hunting, and a large number were slain. A soldier found an old canoe and was paddling around in
the river, when a turtle put up his head. The soldier took off his canteen and taking it by the strap
he threw it to the turtle. It seized it in its mouth and the soldier paddled ashore with it. It was the
largest one I had ever seen; it weighed 160 pounds. Gen Quinsby and staff feasted on turtle soup
on their headquarter boat, "Gentle Annie" next day. We passed down the Coldwater and into the
�Tallahatchie and down that to its junction with the Yalobusha. Here we found a rebel fort, which
barred our further progress. The gunboats engaged the enemy's batteries but without any good
results. The ground was all covered with water so that land troops could do nothing. After
remaining here a few days we received orders to return to the Mississippi. This we accomplished
without material loss, and again took up our camp on the sand bar just below Helena. Here we
remained a few days, receiving a large mail, which had accumulated while we were down the
pass. We again took steamer and did not halt till we reached Millikins Bend; here we went ashore
and camped on the levee. Where here Adjutant General L. Thomas made us a visit, also a speech;
the subject of his address I have forgotten but I believe it had something to do with arming and
equipping the colored troops.
After remaining here a few days we started down the river to get at Vicksburg from below. We
had terrible bad roads and our progress was very slow. We followed a bayou known as Lake St.
Joseph. One day our regiment was rear guard [and] when we halted for lunch we discovered a
soldier out in the middle of the bayou, perched on a tree. Upon inquiry we learned that he and a
companion had built a raft to avoid the walk. Here the current was quite swift; the raft struck a
tree and capsized; his comrade stuck to the raft, while he clung to the tree. We got a long rope,
and waded out and threw him the end, and hauled him ashore. We only passed one town on the
road in the whole distance of seventy miles. It was called Richmond, and a very dilapidated
looking place it was. The first place we sighted the Mississippi was at Hard Times Landing, a
little way above Grand Gulf. We passed down below the latter place to Bruinsburg; here we
arrived on the first day of May 1863. The battle of Thompson's Hills, or Port Gibson, was in
progress, so we got aboard the ironclad Louisville and were ferried over the river. I don't think
much of ironclads as ferryboats; they run too low in the water, which makes one feel as though
they were about to sink. We went into camp shortly after crossing over. The next morning we
passed over the battlefield; it seemed to be very rough ground and covered with stunted oaks and
underbrush. We entered Port Gibson and halted while the bridge across Bayou Pierre, which the
enemy had burned, was being repaired. There was a bank here, and our boys got any quantity of
paper money; all they had to do was to sign Jeff Davis' name as President and Alexander H.
Stevens as Cashier, and the money was all right. When we crossed the river and got about a
quarter of a mile beyond, we found a large stack of bacon, which the Confederates had moved out
of the Yankees way. We overhauled the pile for hams and left the sides for the darkies. I noticed
a negro down on his knees, another colored man was placing bacon sides on his head; he put on
six large pieces, then raised to his feet and marched off, the grease running down through his wool
and over his face. On the third day of May we came to a place called Forty Hills, and here we had
quite a skirmish with the enemy. Our regiment was deployed as skirmishers, supported by the
brigade. The enemy had a battery and opened fire on our skirmish line. Captain Sands, Chief of
Artillery brought a gun down by hand and opened on the enemy. There were present, near this
gun, a number of officers, General James B. McPherson was standing behind an oak tree; General
Crocker, Colonel Sanborn, of the Fourth Minnesota, and a number of others were scattered
around. As soon as our gun opened, the enemy turned all his guns loose on us. The writer of this
dropped down and hugged the ground. When I came too sufficiently to tell which one of the boys I
was, I looked round [and] all the officers were gone except General McPherson and Captain
Sands; the former changed his position from the oak tree to the other side of the road; he barely
saved himself. The next shell went through a tree about breast high to a man. I was nearly
covered up with dirt by the exploding shells and for close calls it certainly ranked a No. 1. A
forward move was made about this time, which was a great relief, for of all the places in the
�world, lying on the ground with the shells exploding around you is the least desirable. We came
to a little creek, on the opposite side of which was a farmhouse. Skirmishing was quite lively; a
spring pullet started out from cover and ran toward the rebel skirmish line; a young soldier from
our lines started after her. She made him quite a chase, but he finally caught her. It was quite a
spectacle, a soldier chasing a hen between the skirmish lines of two armies, liable to be killed by
friend as well as foe.
*
BATTLE OF JACKSON
(Santa Cruz Daily Sentinel Dec. 20, 1885)
After the affair at Forty Hills we marched over to the vicinity of Black River where we went
into camp. Gen. Grant had to reduce Grand Gulf and get over rations to last us while we were
swinging around Vicksburg. We remained in camp here from the 4th to the 10th of May. All old
soldiers will remember a certain game played in the army called "chuck-a-luck". For the benefit
of those who never saw it played, I will say that the game was played with dice; the player would
generally have the numbers from one to six painted on the inside of his oil blanket, and all he had
to do was to spread it on the ground and take out his dice and business commenced. The betting
was done by placing your money on any one of the six figures. When the box was lifted, if the
numbers showed up, you won, if no you lost. This game had become a great nuisance, and the
officers made several ineffectual attempts to put a stop to it. The next day after going into camp,
as mentioned above, some 2,000 men or more were engaged either in playing or looking on in a
grove just beyond our camp. Gen. McPherson got a regiment from some other division and
quietly surrounded the “chuck a luck” players. All at once they closed in on the double quick and
captured the whole crowd. They marched them down to the different regiments and made them
sweep the grounds. On the 10th we took up our line of march for Jackson, Gen Logan's division
in the advance. On the afternoon of the 12th, as we neared Raymond, we heard cannonading.
Soon an order came for us to hurry up. We moved as fast as we could, the last mile on the double
quick. Logan's division was being roughly handled, but when we swung unto line the enemy fell
back without any further resistance. A desperate charge had been made by the 7th Missouri (Irish
Regiment), just before we came up. I had charge of a squad of men, gathering in their wounded.
They were very severe on their officers for making the charge, they being repulsed with
considerable loss. The next day we passed through Clinton. One of our boys went into a drug
store and found a large bottle full of something good to drink. He drank some of it, and sold the
balance to a soldier in the 48th Indiana. He treated his mess. When we started again, after a tenminute rest, all the boys who drank from that bottle were writhing in agony on the ground. None
of them died, but they learned a good lesson. We camped that night in a little grove. Meat was
scarce. Some of our boys found a flock of sheep in the grove and drove them in. We killed as
many as we wanted and cooked sufficient meat to fill our haversacks.
The next day, May 14th, was cloudy, and several hard showers fell on us as we marched toward
Jackson. Our division (Crocker's) was in front. About noon we came upon the enemy's skirmish
line, some three miles from Jackson; a battery was brought up and an artillery duel was carried on
for some time. A thunderstorm was also in progress. The lightning flashed and the thunder
drowned the roar of the guns. A house stood near by, and a large number of beehives had been
robbed, and the air was full of bees, all on their "ear" and ready for a fight. A party of surgeons
came ridding up to examine the premises and locate a hospital if the place suited. I was near the
house, having gone there to get some honey, but arrived too late. When I saw this party of officers
�coming I knew what would happen when they came in range of the bees. They rode up to the
front fence at a lively canter, and one of them asked me some questions in regard to the house, if it
was occupied by a family, etc. I answered his questions and waited for the bees to commence
their part of the program. I did not have to wait long. They sighted the horses and their gay riders
and went for them by the thousand. The struggle was short, sharp, and decisive. The last I saw of
those surgeons they were going like mad through the woods with thousands of bees after them.
A little while after this I happened to be near General McPherson, when General Logan rode up.
The latter asked the former to let him go into the fight with his division. McPherson told him he
had the advance and had fought the battle of Raymond and he now proposed to give General
Crocker a chance. Logan begged hard, but in vain; soon McPherson rode away. When he was out
of earshot Logan turned loose. I though I had heard profane language before, but this tirade by
General Logan took the linen from the bust. About 2 o'clock the rain let up a little and a general
advance was ordered. The Second Brigade, being on the wagon road, had the worst of the
fighting; our regiment was on the extreme right and did nothing but skirmish. A solitary rebel
fought our entire regiment for some time. He would walk as fast as he could from us and load his
gun, then turn around and shoot. We were on the double quick, and I suppose a hundred shots
were fired at him before he fell. Some South Carolina troops were here and they bragged
considerable, as they passed through Jackson, how they would kill the Yanks. From the dead ones
I saw, they seemed to be gentleman's' sons. They had small hands and feet, and did not look as
though they had ever done any manual labor. They had a very handsome uniform, consisting of
light blue pants, grey jacket and cap. The latter bound around with red. Before the battle opened
they stacked their knapsacks, but in the retreat they had no time to get them. These knapsacks
were very handsome, and had the owners name, company and regiment painted in gold letters on
the back. They were full of fine white underclothing. Our boys opened them and scattered the
clothing around looking for valuables. A number of rebels got under a cotton gin, and when we
came near they came out and surrendered, holding their hands in bunches of cotton in lieu of a
white flag.
We followed the enemy into Jackson, and the flag of the 59 Indiana was raised on the State
House. The rebels retreated across Pearl River and burned the bridge; we did not pursue them
further. Pemberton was marching out from Vicksburg, and Grant was in a hurry to get rid of the
enemy on the east, so that he could turn all his attention to him. Our corps, the Seventeenth, left
Jackson at daylight on the morning of the 15th, and marched rapidly on the road to Vicksburg.
We all felt that the climax was approaching and that before many hours we would be in or near
Vicksburg. Rations were getting scarce, and everybody seemed to be in a hurry to get back to the
Mississippi river. We captured some tobacco at Jackson, enough to give us seven small plugs
each. Soldiers, as a rule, use it either for smoking or chewing, and when none was to be had all its
lovers wore long faces. I have seen a soldier who by good luck had secured a large plug of
tobacco, take it out to take a chew, when his next neighbor would ask for a bit; it would pass from
one to another, but none ever returned to the owner. The rebels did not pursue us when we left
Jackson so suddenly, as they were somewhat mystified by Grant's movements. We went into
camp in the woods on this, the night of the 15th of May 1863, and, after a very light supper- made
so by necessity- we sank to rest. To a large number this was the last time they ever spread their
blankets. We little thought what was coming tomorrow.
*
�BATTLE OF CHAMPION HILL
(Santa Cruz Daily Sentinel Dec. 27 1885)
The morning of the 16th of May 1863 broke clear and glorious. The clouds had passed away and
the prospect for decent weather was good. Mississippi is a beautiful country in the springtime
almost equal to our own California, and except for the movements of two hostile armies intent on
each other's destruction, everything was peaceful and lovely in the extreme. There seemed to be
no hurry about starting on the march. Hovey's division moved out, Logan's followed and after
breakfast a slim-slim on my part, consisting of a piece of fat bacon only, without bread or coffee,
we started.
We moved very leisurely, and about 10 o'clock the sound of cannon to the front gave us the first
indication that the enemy was disputing the further advance of our army. We still continued to
move on the road to Vicksburg, the sounds of battle growing plainer and more distinct as we
advanced. About noon we were hurried up a little and soon came to Hovey's command. This
division, which numbered some 5,000 men, was fighting all of Pemberton's army. Perhaps the
General was trying to make a little glory on his own account, as it was not the design of Grant to
bring on a general engagement until he had his troops well in hand. McClernand was away to the
left, on the road to Clinton while Sherman's corps was strung along the road to Jackson. But
Hovey had got his foot in it, so nothing could be done but to reinforce him with the nearest
available troops, and thus save the day the best he could. Logan's division passed around to the
right, and our division (Crocker's) took the center. As we passed Hovey's troops the fighting in his
front was simply tremendous. Although hid from us by the woods, the roar of small arms
interspersed with cannon was continuous. We had to run the gauntlet of the enemy's batteries, and
this was done while marching by the flank and at a double quick. When we got to the rear of the
position we were to occupy in the line of the troops, we halted, and the knapsacks were stacked,
and one man from each company left to guard them. The lines were then formed and an advance
made. Some of Logan's troops were in our immediate front, and the particular regiment in our
front was out of ammunition. In advancing up the hill the bullets from the enemy's infantry would
fall with a dull thud; but the closer we got the swifter they came. When we reached the summit
we raised a cheer and charged, moving over the regiment that was out of ammunition, they lying
down to enable us to do so. After passing over them we came to a piece of timber not more than
one hundred yards wide. Beyond that was a small field of rye, just heading out. The 40th Georgia
regiment was behind the fence separating the wood from the rye field. When we bore down on
them they surrendered, but a few afterwards escaped by hiding in the rye. We got their colors and
about 200 prisoners. I noticed one Confederate sitting by the fence his guns resting between the
rails, on going up to him I found he was stone dead. He occupied such a position that when the
fatal bullet struck him he never changed. There was now a lull in the battle in our immediate
front, which gave me an opportunity of seeing how the rest of our brigade was getting along. On
the right of our regiment, where some of Logan's men had fought, were a number of wounded men
and some who were overcome by heat. Among the latter was a Lieutenant Colonel of Illinois
regiment. He asked me to help him off the field. I took hold of him and when we started he was
so feeble he could hardly walk. To make matters worse the enemy commenced to shell that part
of the line, and as I had to go so very slow I was in doubt as to whether I would get away with my
care or both of us killed. I asked him to move faster, telling him of the danger we were in. Finally
a shell burst not more than ten steps to our rear, scattering the dirt and sticks all over us. This
seemed to revive my Colonel, for he stepped off quite briskly. Two or three more shells followed,
�and I had no more trouble in regard to slow progress.
An Ohio regiment made a handsome charge to our right, and as it was in open ground I saw it all.
A high fence was in their front. This they pushed down as soon as they reached it, scattering the
rails in every direction. The enemy at the same time were giving them a volley, but the gallant
Buckeyes never faltered, but with a loud cheer that rang out in clear accents over the battlefield,
and at a double quick, bore down on the rebel line. The latter stood their ground for a while, but
when the Unionist came near they threw down their arms and surrendered. While these events
were in progress on the right, Pemberton was massing his best troops, a Missouri division under
General Green, for a final effort to retrieve the fortunes of the day. They formed in front of our
brigade in a piece of woods, and to the left of the rye field, heretofore mentioned. Our regiment
was on the right and in a cleared field. The rest of the brigade, consisting of the 18th Wisconsin,
48th Indiana and 93rd Illinois, were in the timber. These [units] the rebels struck first and drove
them back. First came the main body out in considerable confusion, then one and two together,
we retreated doggedly, loading and firing as they walked along. At the edge of the cleared land
was a rail fence. Up to this the Mississippians came, the front rank resting their guns on the top
rails and firing at our regiment, as it was changing front from west to south. At this junction
orders came to lie down. The rebels were getting over the fence when three batteries which were
planted in our rear, opened with canister and shell. The first volley from these guns knocked the
fence down as far as I could see at the same time it was covered with men in the act of climbing
over. Dillon's Wisconsin Infantry fired over our heads and I noticed that some of the canister shot
struck the ground before they got a hundred feet beyond our lines. In fact they came to close to
our backs for comfort. After a few minutes rapid work our firing ceased, and when the smoke
cleared away not an able bodied Confederate was in sight. The shells had fired the woods, and a
number of rebels wounded were badly burned. This was the last determined effort made by the
enemy to break our lines. When we went into the fight our regimental band stopped to stack their
instruments, and in following they turned to the left, the first road they came to thus getting lost.
This road led them among Hovey's troops, which at that particular time were being driven back.
Our band got tangled up with these. The bugler was shot through the neck and the base drummer
was wounded in the hip. They did not reach us till the battle was over, and then in what I
considered a demoralized condition. The battle ended about four o'clock in the afternoon, the
enemy retreating in haste toward the Big Black. Later in the evening I remember seeing Gen.
Logan pass along. The men in his division cheered him wildly. Black Jack was held in high
esteem by all his soldiers. He could crack a joke, was always ready for a fight, and when in battle,
with his hat in one hand, his sword in the other, he was a complete type of daring soldier and
commander. I assisted in bringing in the wounded, which occupied our time till dark. I was
beginning to get hungry, owing to my slim breakfast, so I helped myself to crackers from the
haversacks of the mortally wounded, knowing that they would never need anything to eat again. I
found a Union soldier lying dead at the root of a tree, his head resting in his hand and his elbow on
the ground. I thought he was alive when I first approached and spoke to him about his wound. In
passing over the battlefield I found a number of wounded rebels whom I assisted to the shade of
stumps and trees. In some instances I carried brush and made a shade for them. Their great desire
to get a place to lean back and at the same time be protected from the rays of the sun. While at the
above-mentioned work, a regiment deployed as skirmishers, came along gathering the dead. Then
they found a dead man, a couple would take him by the hair of the head and drag him along until a
place was found suitable for a grave. Here they gathered all the dead in the immediate vicinity,
when a trench was dug, and without ceremony they were all thrown in and
�covered up. Rather a brutal way of doing business, but perhaps the best that could be done under
the circumstances. I overtook my regiment at the Big Black where they were constructing a
bridge across that river.
*
THE SIEGE OF VICKSBURG
(Santa Cruz Daily Sentinel Jan. 3, 1886)
The bridge across the Big Black was finished during the night, and on the morning of the 18th we
commenced to cross. This bridge was a kind of floating concern, made of old flat boats and such
material as could be picked up near at hand. It was rather "shaky," but we all got over without
accident. We moved slowly, and when night overtook us we were only half way to Vicksburg.
This delay was caused by Sherman's corps being in our way. We arrived near the enemy's works
about 8 o'clock on the evening of the 19th. We marched into a dark canyon and lay down to rest
in the thick brush. Everything had got quiet, and I was on the point of hoisting the white flag to
old Morpheus, when the sharp report of an Enfield rifle, accompanied by a cry of pain, rang out on
the evening air. Upon investigation it as found that a soldier was wounded; his little finger almost
shot away. Lieutenant Brown, our assistant surgeon, told me to take him to the general hospital,
about a mile to the rear, where his wound could be dressed and is finger amputated if necessary. I
was somewhat disgruntled at being roused at that unseemly hour, as I believed then, and do now,
that the soldier purposely wounded himself in order to keep out of the hard fighting ahead of us.
I turned my charge over to the attendant at the hospital and started to return. In coming along I
noticed a curiosity in the shape of little lights revolving in the air. They seemed to start from the
horizon, and after mounting almost to the zenith would descent out of sight, apparently in the city
of Vicksburg. I was non-pulsed. I inquired of a belated artilleryman what it was, and received for
a reply that it was "lightning bugs." I thought they flew pretty high for bugs, but resolved to say
no more about the matter but keep an eye out and unravel this "bug" business myself. This I
succeeded in doing on the following evening, without "giving myself away." The "lighting bugs"
proved to be shells from Porter's mortar fleet, and the reason I had not dropped on it before was
because there was no report accompanying the "bug", or none that I could hear. They were
shelling some of the water batteries situated at the upper part of the city.
The next morning we found ourselves in a deep gulch or "hollow", as they call in that country,
which was covered with a perfect labyrinth of brush and vines. Our regiment finally got its
position, and we proceeded to clear off the ground and get what few tents we had up. The ground
was so steep we had to dig it away to get a level place for a bunk. Some of the boys dug caves and
slept in them. The enemy sent a shell over us occasionally just often enough to add zest to our
work. By the evening of the 21st we had got things in fair shape, and were ready for the order to
charge the enemy's works at 10 o'clock tomorrow morning, which we then received. On the
morning of the 22nd all was bustle and preparation, guns were put in order, letters were written,
valuables and money were deposited with some one who was going to remain in camp. Precisely
at 10 o'clock we filed out of camp and up the hill and down into another gulch, where the lines of
battle were formed. I had quite a close call while this line was being formed. A large tree had
been felled by the enemy, and in getting through the top I was in the rear of a soldier, whose gun
was discharged. While fronting to the rear the bullet passed through his hand and grazed the side
of my neck. I believed at the time that the man wounded himself purposely, and so expressed
myself to him. Our line moved up the side of the hill to within one hundred yards of their works,
�when their fire became so hot that we were ordered to lie down. The day was very warm, and a
number of the boys were overcome by the heat. In returning to the front, after taking some of
these boys to the hospital, I met an Irishman going to the rear with seven muskets on his shoulder.
He was quite severely wounded in the head, the ball striking him in the forehead, and glancing
upward made quite a bad scalp wound. I halted him and told him to throw the guns down. He
remonstrated, but I finally succeeded in getting him to do so. I directed him to the hospital, and
started on. After going a few steps I looked and who should I see but my Celtic friend, who had
come back and was gathering up the muskets again. I saw that he was determined to save these
guns, so I said no more to him. At noon the fighting, so far as our division was concerned, was
over, and we fell back out of range. Soon the word came that McClernand had taken two forts and
wanted reinforcements. Grant, in his Memoirs, seemed to distrust these dispatches with reluctance
sent Quimby's division to his aid.
It was late in the afternoon when we got off. We had to march about two miles, and most of the
line in full view of the enemy. When we came to the railroad we turned abruptly to the right,
following a gulch that led to the enemy's works. When we got near the head of the gulch we came
to Gen Burbridge's brigade, the 77th Illinois, having planted its colors on the bastion of the fort.
We went into line right among the 67th Indiana and gradually worked off to their right, when from
some unexplained cause the 67th fell back a short distance but immediately moved up to the front
again. Bart Burke, of this city, was a member of this regiment, but he don't know by what
authority this retrograde movement was made. The enemy was reinforced in our front and the
battle raged with unparalleled fury. Our regiment was falling fast and in thirty minutes 120 of our
350 lay dead or bleeding on the ground, but we held on until night threw her sable curtain over the
field, as if to shut out from human sight the horror of this slaughter pen. About sundown, when
the battle was raging with great fury, a man raised up in our front and shouted, "Cease firing!
You're killing your own men." Our officers stopped the firing as soon as they could, thinking
some of our men had got in our front, but some one in the regiment shot this man who was playing
the Yankee officer. The smoke lifted and about sixty yards in our front was a rebel regiment that
had come out of their works to charge us. They aimed to get close before raising the yell, and that
is why they claimed to be our own men. A volley from us sent them back into their works. The
fighting lasted till 8 o'clock, the combatants firing at the flashes of each other's muskets. About
that time we silently withdrew leaving our dead where they fell. These we buried two days after,
under a flag of truce. We were greatly incensed at General McClernand for misrepresenting
(perhaps innocently), the situation and for the bungling manner in which he handled our division. I
believe his action on this occasion was the cause of his retiring from the service, he being relieved
of command not long after.
The next morning we marched back to our old camp, glad to get out of McClernand's death trap.
Another charge was ordered a few days after this but for some cause was countermanded. We
now went to work to dig our way into Vicksburg. All pickets were relieved during the night for
greater safety, and where an open ridge had to be crossed a road four feet deep and running in a
zig zag manner was cut and made wide enough to allow an artillery carriage to pass.
The works on the skirmish line were made strong, and when an opportunity offered an advance
was made and new works erected.
When the boys went on picket they would generally take sixty rounds of ammunition, and in
most cases it was all used. They had a habit of what they called shelling Vicksburg. This was
done by elevating the gun to an angle of about 45 degrees. I afterwards learned from citizens and
Negroes that our musket balls reached the river, one mile away, and that a good many people were
�wounded in different parts of the city by this continual shower of lead.
One of our company remarked that he was going to shell Vicksburg one night. He elevated his
gun to about the proper angle and proceeded to fire sixty rounds into the beleaguered city. When
daylight appeared the next morning he discovered that he had done all his shooting into a big
stump that stood about ten feet high, and about two rods in front of our works. He never heard the
last of "shelling Vicksburg" while the war lasted. I put in some of my spare time selling a kind of
beer; I believe it was called spruce beer. I dug a place in the bank and fixed up a shade over the
keg and proceeded to sell the stuff at ten cents per oyster can. I got along first rate until the rebels
concluded to do a little shelling on their own account. The first shell missed my beer garden about
fifty feet. This had a bad effect on my audience, and caused most of them to beat a retreat to a
place of safety. Another shell coming still closer caused the balance to leave, and the demand for
beer very perceptibly declined. However, I "staid with the boys," or rather with the beer, until the
corner of my evergreen beer shed was shot away, when I retreated in good order to a place of
safety, but kept my beer in sight. As I watched my property I wondered how high the beer would
fly in case a shell would strike that keg fair on the head. When this little unpleasantness was over
I moved my business to safer and more congenial quarters. We had plenty of grub and very good
water, so that we actually were in better health when the city surrendered than when we first
invested the place. Picket firing was continuous all along the line, and the gun and mortar boats
on the river made it lively for everybody inside the enemy's lines
THE SIEGE OF VICKSBURG (CONTINUED)
(Santa Cruz Daily Sentinel Jan. 10, 1886)
About the 1st of June General F.P. Blair, with about 5,000 men was sent on an expedition to
Mechanicsville, distant about fifty miles. Our brigade commanded by Colonel Banborn of the
Fourth Minnesota, composed a part of this force. We left our camps in front of Vicksburg about 8
o'clock in the evening, and marched out about five miles, when we stopped for the night. The
weather was very warm and we did most of our marching in the evening and morning, stopping
over during the heat of the day. On the third day we arrived and Mechanicsville. This proved to
be an insignificant place of perhaps 200 inhabitants. We saw no enemy with the exception of a
few irregular cavalry. We remained here overnight and the next morning started on the return trip.
We took the road down the Yazoo River, or what is known as the Haines Bluff road. The Yazoo
bottom was covered with young corn nearly waist high, and from what I could see, they appeared
to be very rich.
The expedition was sent out to look for an enemy that might be in this part of the country, and
destroy the property that was contraband of war. General Blair marched us on this return trip as
though we were en route to relieve some beleaguered garrison, whose ability to hold out another
twenty four hours was doubtful.
The weather was very hot, and straggling was no name for the way the men fell out of the ranks.
At one halt we made only four men in our company were present to stack arms. The guerillas
picked up quite a number of these stragglers and carried them off as prisoners.
Our line of march was marked by burning cotton gins, and bales of the fabric that were stowed
away in barns. I believe we got to Haines Bluffs on the second day, the fastest time on record,
considering the warm weather. The boys said that Blair had whisky and ice on a boat at the
Bluffs, and was in a great hurry to get there. Although General Blair may have been a good
soldier and a true patriot, he certainly had no respect for the common soldiers. We remained at
�Haines Bluffs two or three days, when we returned to our old camp in front of Vicksburg.
The siege was beginning to be monotonous. The only place in our corps that was lively was in
Logan's division, near the Jackson wagon road. He had run a zigzag trench right up to their
breastworks, and was running a tunnel under one of their forts to blow it up. After the explosion
there was considerable fighting, but no permanent ground was gained. A colored man on the
enemy's side went up with the dirt and came down on our side. He was not much hurt, but was
very pale from fright. About the 1st of July I could see preparations going on for the proper
celebration of the Fourth. Wagons were busy hauling ammunition to the various field batteries
and a general activity was visible in all ordinance stores.
On the evening of the 2d I went on the skirmish line and remained twenty-four hours. In the
forenoon of the 3d a white flag was raised in front of A.J. Smith's division, and negotiations were
opened looking to surrender. White flags were also hoisted all along the line, and all the soldiers
on both sides were on top and in front of their works. Everything went lovely until a gun was
fired, which caused everybody to hunt their holes; however, not much more fighting was done. In
the afternoon Grant and Pemberton, accompanied by their respective staffs, met in front of our
corps (17th), near a small oak tree. They remained there about half an hour, when they returned to
their respective commands. This tree became historical and was carried away, root and branch, by
relic hunters. Everybody felt glad that the long siege was over, and that no more blood would be
shed. Sentinels from each army mounted the breastworks and walked their beats on top in plain
view. In some places, particularly in front of General Logan's division, our own and the enemy's
sentinels paced their beats within twenty feet of each other.
The next morning, July 4th, about 10 o'clock, the enemy marched out and stacked their arms in
front of their works and then returned to their respective camps, and about the same time our
division marched into the city. It was indeed a desolate looking place. The streets were
barricaded and covered with a deep dust. Everywhere was to be seen fragments of shells, broken
wagons and other debris. The citizens had dug caves in the banks to live in and protect themselves
from the fire of our artillery. Some of these subterranean chambers were quite large, the dirt
floors being carpeted, I recollect seeing a church that a shell had entered at the roof and came out
near the basement. A Negro told me that services were being held at the time. He says, "Golly,
Massa, dey cum out s' dat church like scared sheep." I presume the benediction was cut short.
Soon after the surrender we moved inside the entrenchments near the suburbs of the city. One day
I was roaming around town, and on going to the lower landing I saw the steamer City of Madison
taking on a load of ammunition. Some 40 Negroes and a number of white soldiers were engaged
in the work. The colored men were letting the shells down into the hold of the vessel by passing
them from one to another. After looking at them awhile and seeing them drop a shell or two, I
came to the conclusion that it was no place for me, so I started across lots for camp, and as the
sequel will provide, none too soon. I had proceeded about a quarter of a mile when I heard the
explosion of a shell, then another making the second, and then a tremendous explosion that made
the whole earth shake. I rightly surmised that the darkies had dropped a percussion shell and blew
up the whole cargo. On returning I found the forward part of the boat back to the wheel house,
was a mass of splinters and had sunk, the stern still remaining out of the water; but the darkies,
Oh, where were they? Not one out of the 40 left to tell the tale. The white soldiers were on a
barge passing the shells up, so they only had one man killed, but all of them were badly shaken up.
Bart Burke of this city was one of the white soldiers engaged in the work, and he informs me that
he was knocked senseless for some moments. A spar from the boat was blown about 40 rods in
the direction of the city, striking on the end stuck in the ground, where it remained in a
�perpendicular position.
Some time in September our division was ordered up the river to Helena, Ark. All the sick,
together with the tents, were left as they were. There were thirteen convalescents in our company,
including myself, left back, and I was left in command. This was the first time I had a separate
command, or any show whatever to show my generalship. About the first thing I did was to trade
a surplus of white beans to a colored man for a barrel of Muscatine’s. These were a kind of wild
grape that grew along the creeks and rivers of the country, and are about the size of the California
Mission variety. They have a very thick skin so that it takes many to make a mess. We thirteen
ate the barrel of grapes at one meal, and still lived. I next sent out a detail to forage for pumpkins
and muskmelons, but they didn’t get many. Some colored people not far away had three fat hogs.
I sent a detail of four men to bring one of these porkers, dead or alive. Two of the four men took
their guns. Of course this was done in the night. After they had been gone awhile I heard a
tremendous row over about the Negro cabins, in which the squealing of a hog and the shouts of the
excited Negroes formed a large part. Finally the hog was shot and brought into camp. We had hot
water, so we cleaned our hog, burned the lard and had everything in good shape by midnight, so if
any of the officers came along no suspicion would rest on us. We remained here about a month,
when we were ordered to join our command at Helena. We had accumulated about six months’
provisions, the most of which we had to leave behind. Our boys had another way of getting extra
grub; they had some broken bank money. The backs of the bills they painted green. This they
used in buying fresh meat and other articles from the Negroes. Money was no good unless the
bills had green backs.
We finally got ready and got aboard the steamer Gen Anderson. She was loaded down until the
water ran over her lower decks, and I was afraid she would sink. The night was very dark, so we
tied up to the shore till the moon arose. As we rounded the bend in the river near Milliken's Bend,
about sun up next morning, we saw a steamer burning. A number of cattle were swimming in the
river. We ran up to the steamer and found her nearly burned to the water's edge. She proved to be
the Robert Campbell. Some twenty-five persons, about half of whom were women, were on a sand
bar in their nightclothes. These were all that escaped. How many were drowned no one seemed to
know. I saw one man with a life preserver on, drowned. He had neglected to put the straps over
his shoulders. When it worked down around his hips. He had a valise in one hand and a hand
trunk in the other. We took the shipwrecked crew aboard, and ferried them over the Million’s
Bend were we left them.
We arrived at Helena on the third day and joined our respective regiments. About this time our
division was changed from the 17th to be the 3d division, 15th corps. Orders were also received
to get aboard our steamer and go up to Memphis where we took cars for Corinth, being ordered to
Chattanooga to reinforce Grant.
*
MISSIONARY RIDGE
(Santa Cruz Daily Sentinel Aug. 30, 1885)
On the evening of Nov 20, 1863 after a long and tedious march from Corinth, Miss., by way of
Florence Ala. Fayetteville, Deckerd and Bridgeport, Tenn., we arrived at the foot of Lookout
Mountain. The road from Bridgeport was horrid; dead mules and broken wagons were on every
hand, showing with what difficulty the army in Chattanooga was being fed. On the point of the
mountain, next to Chattanooga, was a signal station. When it became dark, I distinctly remember
�how I watched the light as it swung to and fro, conveying to Bragg's headquarters on Missionary
Ridge possibly the news that something was wrong below. Our pickets were up some distance on
the side of the mountain, and above them were those of our foes. Little fires gleamed out in the
darkness, marking the place where the reserves were stationed. About 9 p.m. we again took up
our line of march. Turning to the left we crossed the Tennessee River at Brown's Ferry on a
rickety pontoon bridge; so rickety indeed, that it broke several times, and finally gave way leaving
our 4th division (Osterhaus) behind. We passed around to the rear of Chattanooga, and hid
ourselves away among the hills, having received strict orders to keep quiet. In our immediate
front was a high hill whose top commanded a fine view of Missionary Ridge and Lookout
Mountain. On the morning of the 23d, the writer, with hundreds of others climbed this hill to get a
view of Hooker's battle. We could hear the musketry, but owing to a heavy fog which hung
around the top of old Lookout, we failed to see much. This battle, aside from being fought above
the clouds, was a very commonplace affair. As we were descending a deer suddenly started from
its covert, and ran down the hill as fast as its frightened legs could carry it. The injunction to keep
quiet was instantly forgotten. Everybody yelled and cheered the frightened animal, which ran
through John E. Smith's division, and after a number of hairbreadth escapes was finally captured
by some of the boys in the first division. About midnight of the 23d, we left our camp and silently
marched down to the Tennessee River, just below the mouth of the Chickamauga Creek, there we
found Giles A. Smith's brigade busily engaged ferrying troops over the river in pontoon boats.
They were a square, clumsy boat and would hold about thirty men. All night long these boats
plied back and forth and by morning about 8,000 men were across the river and had thrown up a
very respectable rifle trench. When daylight came, they commenced to lay the pontoon, and by
noon it was finished and all the troops over. This bridge was 1300 feet long, and considering the
time in which it was laid down, it certainly displayed great ability on the part of Gen W.F. Smith,
who had the work in charge. A heavy fog hung over the valley, completely hiding us from the
enemy's view. About 9 a.m. Two Confederate cavalrymen came down toward the ferry and not
knowing the place had changed hands during the night, rode directly on to our skirmish line. One
was captured and the other escaped. The prisoner was brought back to our regimental
headquarters, and I remember how earnestly he begged for his life. He thought we were going to
kill him on the spot. It took our Colonel some time to convince him to the contrary. At 1 o'clock
the three divisions of the Fifteenth Corps and Jeff C. Davis' Division of the Fourteenth, were ready
to move. The country for some distance from the river was level and in cultivation. The whole
army was in plain view. It was the finest parade of troops I saw during the war. We advanced
through the open ground until we reached the woods. There we found the land swampy. We went
splashing through it, and soon reached the foothills and made a lodgment with no opposition but
that of the enemy's skirmish line. We proceeded to fortify our position, and all night we worked to
make our works secure. The enemy was also busy, as the sound of their axes and falling trees
made plenty of music during the night. We occupied a ridge, which ran parallel to, but was not
connected with Missionary Ridge proper. Between our position and that of the enemy was a
narrow valley. A rail fence ran along on each side of this, and was occupied by our and the
enemy's skirmishers respectively. A house stood about midway between the lines, and was
occupied by a lady and her two daughters. About 9 a.m. the order was given to charge. Over the
fence and across the field we went at a brisk run, and up the hill on the opposite side, driving the
Eighteenth and Twenty-first Texas before us. We captured their first line of rifle pits. Just above
us on the bench of land, was a rebel battery. Our boys went for that. The gunners fled
notwithstanding the earnest entreaties of their commander to remain and give the Yankees a warm
�reception. We thought the guns were ours, but before we could lay hands on them a brigade of the
enemy, that was supporting the battery, suddenly arose to their feet, gave us a volley, and charged,
and such a volley. Fortunately for us we were below them, and the soldiers invariably fired over
our heads when firing down hill. It was now our time to do a little 2:40 running. I remember that
in my blouse pocket I had a white handkerchief. A small tree that, owing to urgent business, I
failed to go around, but went over, caught this and drew it from my pocket. A hurried glance
backward showed it floating from a limb, a token of surrender; but in this instance the goods were
not delivered. We rallied before we reached the valley, and made a stand. The gunners returned
to their pieces and opened on us with canister and shell, but we held our ground. Near by was a
wounded Texan, and a comrade and I placed him on a litter, and bore him down the hill to the
house in the valley. Some other wounded rebels were there, and the lady and her daughters were
caring for them.
In our charge across the field, mentioned above, our boys pushed the garden fence down. Soon
after taking the wounded man to the house I made another trip. This time I met one of the
daughters driving a couple of pigs out of the garden. I engaged her in conversation about the
battle that was then going on around us, asking her if she was not afraid of being killed. She said
she was not. While we were talking a minnie ball passed near and tore up the ground within six
feet of where the girl stood. Other bullets passed near by- in fact the place was getting a little
warm for me, so I passed on leaving her to herd pigs amidst one of the great battles of the war. I
believe these women remained in the house during the terrible battle fought for the possession of
Tunnel Hill. I frequently saw shell burst directly over them, but they passed through safe.
About noon we fell back to the fortified ridge, and the storming column moved out and up the
side of the hill. I remember seeing the Fifth Iowa fighting over the log breastworks with the
bayonet, but the enemy was too much for them. Two companies of the regiment were captured,
and I believe they lost their colors. We were reinforced by the Eleventh Corps, who went into
battle and fought gallantly. The rebels reinforced from other parts of their line, held their ground.
Things were uncommonly quiet in General Thomas' immediate front up to this time, but suddenly
they became lively over that way. Thomas gave the order to advance and take the first line of rifle
pits. This being done, the troops, without orders, kept right on for the works on the summit. The
enemy had a line of infantry and forty pieces of artillery, and were protected by earthworks.
These poured a destructive fire into our men, as they advanced. I was in plain view of the enemy's
works, and for rapid firing the rebels at this time excelled anything I had hitherto seen. Their line
of battle was one continuous sheet of fire. Finally all was quiet, but it was morning before we
learned the glorious result. How Thomas' men had scaled the heights, captured all the enemy's
cannon, a large number of prisoners, and driven the remainder from the field. During the night the
rebels retreated, and left us in possession of the field. They stripped our dead and wounded of
boots, shoes and blankets- such of them as lay close to the works.
Provisions were scarce with us at this time, so we did not follow Bragg's forces very far. Before
we returned to our old camp, in the rear of Chattanooga, we were out of rations and none were to
be had. Some of our company gobbled a sack of "nigger peas," but I was not in that mess. Our
company commander had quite a supply of coffee, so we were marched up three times a day and
took our coffee straight. This lasted for three days, at the end of which time I actually believe I
could have eaten some of Seaburg's "tripe."
We finally moved from there to Huntsville, Alabama where we went into winter quarters. There
I build my first chimney of brick, with a cloth tent for a house, but like some of our lecturers and
public speakers it failed to "draw".
�*
A COLORED WEDDING
(Santa Cruz Daily Sentinel Jan. 17, 1886)
My last letter brought me to Corinth, Miss, and my "next" was written and printed in the Daily
Sentinel of Aug. 30, 1885. In it was described the battle of Missionary Ridge, and our movements
until we went into camp on Russell's Hill at Huntsville, Alabama.
[NOTE: A.H. Kane's "Missionary Ridge" article, when originally printed, was not published in the
actual chronological sequence of events.]
After remaining in camp here a few days we moved down to the city. Our Company (A) and B
took possession of a large wagon train
The weather was very cold for that country, the ground freezing solid enough to bear up a wagon
and team. About this time the Government was offering large bounties to all old regiments, or to
those who had been in service for two years to re enlist. Nearly all those who had been in the
service long enough re-enlisted, or at least enough for the regiments to hold their organizations.
Four hundred dollars bounty and a thirty-day furlough were the prizes offered for these reenlistments.
After our regiment had started home on their veteran furlough those who did not re-enlist, about
fifty in number, including myself, moved to a vacant lot opposite the public square where we
erected our tents and prepared to stay. Among the help we had was a colored man, about thirty
years of age, named Zeb Watkins. He was as black as the traditional ace of spades, and so far as
the make up of his features was concerned I can assure you he was no beauty. He was a man of all
work, helping the cooks getting wood, water, etc. Zeb had belonged to a planter that lived on Flint
river, some ten miles from the town by the name of Watkins, and I will here remark that the slaves
almost invariably took their master's surname, adding such given name to it as they had been
known by on the plantation. There is not much danger of the more illustrious names in the South
dying out so long as their slaves or their descendants live.
The heading of this letter is somewhat different from its predecessors as they generally treated of
some battle, while a part of this one at least will treat of a wedding. Our man Zeb had received a
shaft from Cupid's bow, which landed directly in his heart. The cause of all this love sickness on
his part was one Cleopatra Jones, a black beauty they lived on a plantation about four miles from
town. Zeb approached me one day and gave me an invitation to his wedding, which was to come
off in about two weeks. He was anxious to have an officer perform the ceremony; in fact a
common preacher looked small in the eyes of the average darkey when compared to an officer
with his military trappings on. After some conversation with him in regard to my being captured
by guerillas should I conclude to go, the place of the wedding being beyond the lines I took the
case under advisement to report in a week.
After a conversation with Lieut. W. A. Bartholomew in regard to the matter, in which he
positively refused to risk his capture by the enemy in going so far from camp, and also refusing to
give his consent to any of the boys going, I was resolved to go if I could get any one to go with
me. After discussing the question for a few days I at length succeeded in getting a Sergeant and
private to go along. The Sergeant I wanted to perform the marriage ceremony. When the time
was up I informed Zeb that we would be there, and we wanted a trustworthy person to pilot us to
the plantation. It was all arranged satisfactorily. Zeb was to send his brother for us, he knowing
�all the trails and by roads, as we had no desire to use the main traveled road for fear of meeting
some of the enemy. It was not a fight but fun we were looking for.
We made all necessary preparations. Our Sergeant borrowed a Captain's coat and sash from
some one outside of our regiment. We each had a revolver, and at the appointed time our guide
made his appearance, and about eight o'clock in the evening we silently stole out of camp, our
Sergeant carrying his officer's clothes in a bundle. He also had a copy of Hardee's tactics and a
pamphlet left with him by the agent of the Christian commission. From these latter documents he
was going to improvise a kind of marriage ceremony for the occasion. Our guide, a strapping
young colored man, led us through cleared fields, timber and brush, over creeks, and gulches and
finally, about half past nine, we approached the place. When we came within a couple of hundred
yards of the house our Sergeant halted the squad and sent our guide on to reconnoiter. After being
gone a few minutes he returned and pronounced the coast clear, so we proceeded to the house.
Our first duty was to put out pickets, consisting of two young colored men to guard the road in
both directions from the house. We now went in, and were introduced by Zeb to the most
prominent persons including the coming bride. Our Sergeant had, before coming in, donned his
Captain's clothes, and of course received the lion's share of attentions. There were about fifty
people in and around the house, of all colors from that of a new saddle to the most polished ebony.
The house consisted of a double cabin with an entry between.
One of these was used for a sleeping apartment and the other for a kitchen. Several smaller
cabins stood near, and the whole was surrounded by a rail fence. The bride, Cleopatra Jones was a
"culled gal" about twenty years of age. Not being a judge of colored beauty, I will not dwell on
that point, but will say she was somewhat better looking than the groom. She had on a silk dress,
which I presume had belonged to her mistress, and was a few sizes too small for her. She also
wore a profusion of brass jewelry. After some preliminaries our Sergeant Captain ordered the
bride and groom to stand up. His first question was a demand for his fee, five dollars. The groom
not having any money or at least not so much as that was somewhat embarrassed; but he rustled
around and succeeded in finding a five-dollar note, Confederate money, which he gave to the
officer. That functionary gave it a comical look, put it in his pocket and proceeded with the
ceremony. "You will now join hands!" Zeb took the hand of the "fair" Cleopatra in his. After
going through the ceremony as near as he could remember, our Sergeant Captain closed as
follows: "In the name of the people of the United States I declare you man and wife for three
years, or during the war. The ceremony seemed to please all hands hugely, and the custom of
kissing the bride was indulged in for a few minutes. Supper being announced, we passed out
through the entry and into the other part of the house. Here we found a table that would gratify the
sight of a gourmand- roast chicken in profusion, corn cakes, fried, pies, cakes and last but not
least, three fat 'possums, roasted brown, placed at intervals along the table. I will state for the
benefit of those that never saw a possum that they are a small animal, nocturnal in their habits, and
fond of visiting hen roost. They are very fat and are hunted by the colored people for their flesh,
of which they are passionately fond. Of course we were given the seats of honor at the table, and,
after a blessing had been asked by Uncle Jerry, we proceeded to help ourselves. Everybody ate,
ate hearty; indeed such satisfactory eating I seldom or never saw. Colored jokes and repartee were
plentiful; the color line and the war were forgotten. Finally when the last slice of possum had
disappeared, the guests arose from the table. Their chins shone as bright as baldheads in the front
seats at a variety theater, caused by possum grease that escaped the road to their stomachs. Soon
the notes of the violin and banjo struck up in the other room. I being a kind of officer of the guard
took a couple of men and went and relieved those already on guard, so that they could come to
�supper. It was now about 12 o'clock. The light fantastic was being tripped by two score of men
and women, some with shoes on, some with boots on and some bare footed. This thing had been
going on perhaps an hour when an unearthly yell from one of my guards, immediately followed by
three or four shots from a revolver, caused a general consternation and panic. Somebody yelled
"bushwhackers" and a grand rush from the house to a place of safety was made. I made a break
for the nearest timber. In passing through I noticed a dozen horsemen coming toward the house
full tilt. They were within seventy-five yards of the house and time was precious. In getting over
the rail fence, the top rail turned and I fell into a hollow stump just on the outside. The fall
knocked the breath out of me, so that by the time I had got my wind and was ready to run it was
too late; so I crouched down as close as I could. By this time the bushwhacker were all around
me. They tied their horses to the fence and went into the house. My soldier friends and nearly all
the darkies were gone. They made some of the women get them some supper leaving one man to
guard the horses. They sat down and helped themselves. They never suspicioned that any white
soldiers had been there, an, after satisfying their appetites and making a good many inquiries about
the Yankees in Huntsville, they got ready to leave, winding up their little escapade by whipping a
negro man who failed to answer some questions put to him. They left the way they came. After
they were out of sight I crawled out of that stump and made tracks for Huntsville. I stopped every
few minutes and listened for the enemy. When hearing nothing I would again resume my run for
home, which I reached, nearer dead than alive, about four o'clock in the morning. My two
companions reached camp about one hour later, they having lost their way in the woods. Our
Sergeant Captain had to pay for the Captains coat and sash, as they were both torn into ribbons
while running through the bush.
*
A VISIT TO NASHVILLE
(Santa Cruz Daily Sentinel Jan. 24, 1886)
Soon after the events narrated in my last letter had transpired, I concluded to visit Nashville, if I
could get a furlough. I wrote one out and got the lieutenant commanding the company to sign it. I
then carried it to regimental headquarters, where it was again signed; from there to brigade,
division, corps, and finally to department headquarters. It was the most muchly signed paper I
ever saw. It was signed and countersigned! It was signed vertically longitudinally and diagonally.
It was signed with blue, black and red ink. It was signed with gold, steel and goose quill pens. It
was a conundrum to guards, whose early education had been limited, and curiosity to officers and
others. It contained the names of four generals and a colonel and lieutenant besides the various
adjutant generals. I intended to keep the paper, but I lost it later in the war.
The next day I proceeded to Nashville passing through the pleasant towns of Pulaski, Columbia
and Franklin. I went to the Soldiers' home on Vine Street, where I spoke for board. That night I
slept on the soft side of a table. After breakfast next morning I sallied forth to see the sights.
After visiting the State House and James K. Polk's tomb, I concluded that I would visit "Smoky
Row." This was that part of the city lying over the railroad, and was devoted to immoral purposes.
No pass was good in this place, and after wandering around awhile I was overhauled by the
provost guard and taken to the well know Zollicoffer House. The door opened and I was thrust in,
and the door again locked. The Zollicoffer House was a stone building not yet finished. The
walls, roof and floors were in place, but no inside work had been done. I believe it was four
stories high and was built by Gen Zollicoffer, the same who was killed at Mill Springs. It was not
�used as a barracks and guardhouse. The room in which I found myself was the full size of the
building, perhaps 60 X 120, and contained about fifty soldiers. The omnipresent gray back and
frisky flea were also well represented. I was in and how to get out was the question. From what I
could learn it was much easier to get in than out. I made every effort with the officer of the guard
to gain my freedom, but to no purpose. I passed the balance of the day and the night in that place.
Next morning an officer came and released me, so I was again free. After remaining here until my
furlough was out, I boarded the cars for home. After we had gone some miles the conductor
passed through, or rather over the top of the cars, looking at passes and taking up tickets, etc. Our
car was covered with soldiers, and when the conductor got about the middle I noticed that he was
having a controversy with a soldier about something. He (the conductor) accused the soldier of
being a woman. At first he or she denied the charge, but after some threats by him that he would
expose her, she owned up that she was a woman and that she belonged to the 1st Alabama (Union)
Cavalry, and her husband belonged to the same command. She had been in the hospital in
Nashville, and had so far escaped detection; it remained for a railroad conductor to do that. When
we got down to a station near Decatur, she exchanged her soldier’s clothes for feminine attire.
We used to go foraging for corn out in the Tennessee bottoms. We would take from forty to
sixty wagons and about six men to the wagon. When we reached the field the six-mule team
would be driven along one row, and the corn would be picked from the stalk and thrown into the
wagon. When all were loaded we would start for camp. While on one of those foraging
expeditions we came to a plantation, the owner of which was a surgeon. In his office he had a
skeleton all arranged in good style, and hanging by the head in one corner of the room. He told
me that some years before there came along late in the evening an Irishman in an inebriated
condition, who desired to stay all night. Not having any room in the house he made him a bed on
the office floor, and in such a manner that when he awoke the first thing his eyes would rest on
would be the skeleton. He said that the next morning about sun up he heard a lively racket in the
office, and on looking out he saw his Celtic friend moving down the road at a lively gait minus his
hat. Another time coming home with 40 wagons loaded with corn, we met a Negro with a mule
and cart. The boys [union soldiers] on the front wagon began to pelt him with corn, then those on
the next wagon and so on, and when the teams all got past, the cart was half full and the ground
was cover round about. When we got near town we came to a Negro cabin, and in the front door
being open the boys commenced to fire at the door and the ears came so fast that the inmates could
not close it. When the last team got by I suppose there was five bushels of corn on the floor of the
cabin. The boys did not do this with any desire to hurt the colored people, but merely to have a
little fun.
About the 1st of June the rebel Col. Roddy, with 1,000 men and two pieces of artillery, crossed
the Tennessee at Butler's Ferry, and moving rapidly to Madison, a station on the railroad,
garrisoned by two companies of the 13th Illinois, surprised and captured the place with most of the
garrison. A dispatch was sent to Huntsville for help. About two hundred of our regiment boarded
the cars and proceeded with all dispatch to Madison. Here we were joined by a detachment of the
5th Ohio Cavalry, 120 strong. The enemy, after securing what plunder they could, made haste to
get back across the river. We got off the cars and immediately took the road to the ferry. We
were only about one hour behind the enemy. The cavalry went ahead and overtook the rebels in
the river bottom. We proceeded as fast as we could, and about 4 o'clock in the evening we came
up to our cavalry, who were trying in vain to drive the enemy's skirmish lines. The land was very
heavily timbered, and in some places covered with water so that cavalry could not do much.
About half of our line was deployed as skirmishers, and with the help of the 5th Ohio the enemy's
�skirmish line was routed and driven back on the main body at the ferry. The enemy was busily
engaged in crossing the river, and had planted their cannon to protect them and these now opened
on us. We pushed ahead and engaged their infantry, and the fighting became quite spirited, but no
much damage was done, as it was not dark. We found the enemy in an almost impregnable
position, with both flanks protected by swamps. Our Colonel now decided to withdraw, as
nothing could be done. I recollect that a field officer of the 13th Illinois begged our Colonel to let
him have our regiment to make a charge on the enemy, as he felt badly about his men being
captured, but his request was not complied with. It now began to rain and our command started
back to Madison, distant about eight miles. Our casualties were only two, one slightly and one
mortally wounded. The one mortally was Sergeant Alexander. Eight of us were detailed to carry
him back, as we had no ambulance with us. We put him on an oil blanket, and four of us would
carry him as far as we could, each one holding a corner of the blanket. The rain fell in torrents and
all the light we had was from the occasional flashes of lightning. All the troops moved to the rear,
leaving us with our wounded comrade to get along as best we could. We expected the enemy
would follow us, and in that case we would have been captured or dispersed. That was a long four
miles through mud and water, and we must have been at least two hours in traveling it. I thought
the wounded man would drown, it rained so hard, but we covered his face with his hat. It was a
sad and melancholy experience, and one not soon to be forgotten. When we reached the highland
we found the troops halted, it having occurred to the commander that we were in the rear. We
carried him to a farmhouse and left him, his brother remaining as nurse. We got back to Madison
about midnight, and stopped for the night. A party returned next morning for the wounded
Sergeant, but found that he had been mustered out by the Great Commander. His remains were
sent to friends in the Hoosier State. Toward noon a colored man came riding into town on a fine
bay horse. He appeared to be a doctor from the saddlebags hanging on the saddle. He seemed to
be in very good spirits and gave the following account of himself. He had been a cook in the 13th
Illinois, and was captured the day before by Col. Roddy's men. A rebel surgeon being in need of a
hostler pressed him into the service. During our skirmish with them at the ferry the surgeon gave
him his horse to hold while he attended a wounded man. He mounted the horse, and the night
being very dark and everything in confusion, he at the first opportunity rode into the brush, and
escaped up the river. Beside the horse and saddle there was a doctor's haversack, blankets and a
fine set of surgical instruments. We remained here one day and then returned to our old camp at
Huntsville.
*
MARCHING THROUGH GEORGIA
(Santa Cruz Daily Sentinel Jan. 31, 1886)
About the 20th of June 1864, Gen. Sherman, then near Kennesaw Mountain, ordered our division
to Kingston, to hold that point secure against the cavalry of Gen. Wheeler. We marched as far as
Bridgeport, passing through the town of Bellifonte on the way. At Bridgeport we took cars for
Chattanooga. When near Whiteside Station our train broke in two near the middle, one half
following the engine the other half going back toward Bridgeport. After going about a mile, word
was got to the engineer and our half stopped and slowly backed up. We found our runaway about
a mile from where the break occurred, the boys having put on the brakes and brought the train to a
standstill. The coupling was broken so that we could not couple on in the usual way. Some one
found a log chain, and with that the train was fastened together. I was on top of the car just
�forward of the break, and when we were going down grade I could hear one end of the log chain
dragging on the ties. My imagination pictured a hook on the end of the chain, and the possibility
of a collision should it catch on anything was very good, but we got through to Chattanooga,
where we changed cars for Kingston. We passed through Tunnel Hill, Buzzard Roost, Dalton,
Tilton, Resaca, Calhoun, and Adairsville and at length arrived at Kingston our present destination.
At all points we passed through could be seen evidence of the struggle between Sherman and
Johnston. Every ridge was fortified, and every rock and tree was taken advantage of by Johnston
in his stubborn defense.
We pitched our tents and remained until the 12th of July, when we marched to the Etowah river
railroad bridge by way of Cassville and Cartersville. We proceeded to fortify this place to prevent
any raiders from burning the bridge. The railroad bridge is about one mile from the village of
Cartersville, and of course we spent some of our leisure time there. While the work of fortifying
was going on, two drummers of our regiment went out in the woods to play poker. The Captain of
a battery seeing them sent a guard out which surprised and captured the two boys and put them to
work on the fort. They worked from morning till night without dinner. To say that the boys were
mad would be putting it very mild. A number of Stoneman's cavalry came into our lines here that
had escaped capture when that General surrendered on one of his raids around Atlanta. Their feet
were all scratched to pieces running through the brush and briars. They stated that almost every
day they were chased by either citizens or Home Guards.
After we had got settled down in our new quarters at the bridge, I accidentally came across some
distant relatives, 42nd cousins or something of that kind, and of course I visited them, and was
treated with true Southern hospitality. A young lade relation from the country was visiting in
Cartersville at the time, and she gave me a cordial invitation to visit her family, living about
twelve miles from town. She went on to state that her two brothers had been conscripted into the
rebel army, and that they were now at home, but in hiding, and she was very earnest in her
invitation for me to go out. My memory reverted back to a certain "nigger" wedding, the
festivities of which were suddenly brought to a close by bushwhackers. The hollow stump and the
four mile run had somewhat dampened my ardor for these little excursions into the enemy's
country. I at first very politely declined, but in the course of a month after thinking the matter
over, I concluded to go, and the following arrangements were made. She was going home that
day, Sept. 2d 1864, and she was to send her two brothers to meet me at the forks of the road eight
miles from town. She made out a kind of map on which the main roads and houses were marked.
I took a walk out on the road in the evening to see where our pickets were stationed and the best
way to avoid them. I hired a Negro man to go with me for company, as far as the forks of the
road. As soon as it was dark we started, keeping the fields until we had passed our pickets, when
we followed the road for about two miles passing in the meantime two or three houses. Here was
quite a large plantation, and the owner was a bitter rebel, so I had been advised to steer clear of his
place. My colored companion was never on this road before, and as a matter of course was of no
account as a guide. When we got near this house we left the road and made quite a detour through
the woods when we again took the road. There was but one more place marked "shaky" on my
map, and that was a bridge across a little creek six miles out. When we neared this place we heard
the patter of horses' hoofs on the road, so we hurried to a place of safety. It proved to be a solitary
horseman, but whether white or black the darkness prevented me from ascertaining. He came
from the direction in which we were going, and it now stood us in hand to be cautious. What
bothered me now was to tell the exact location of the bridge, as I had designed to avoid it by
wading the creek. There was also a house near by, and this was also to be avoided. We again got
�on the road and followed it slowly until the barking of a dog gave us notice that we were nearing
the house. We now left the road, and crossing the creek without difficulty, we again emerged into
the road, feeling better that the worse was past. We stopped occasionally to listen and learn if any
one besides ourselves were out at that late hour. At length we heard footsteps on the road, so we
again took to cover. It proved to be an old Negro. We let him go on his way rejoicing. We again
resumed our journey, and from the time we had traveled I concluded we were near the forks of the
road. On turning a bend in the road we came in full view of the two roads not more than fifty
yards away. We halted. This was the most trying part of the program. Perhaps these 42nd
cousins of mine might fool me, and either kill or hand me over to the enemy. We had arranged a
signal consisting of three whistles, which I got my companion to give, as he was a better whistler
than I. We were answered in the same manner, and immediately there stepped from the shade of a
tree two men, who approached us. We met and exchanged greetings. We immediately left the
road and did not see anything more than a trail till we came to the place where my folks lived. I
spent a week there, and put in most of the time dodging from one place to another. I found in the
camp about twenty men, the most of who had deserted Johnston’s army in its retreat south. They
belonged to the poorer class, and had no heart in the cause. They had a camp in the woods and
were also armed. When night came the most of them would visit their families living in the
neighborhood, returning to camp again before daylight. The reason for all this camping out and
hiding was the fear of a company of regular Confederate cavalry sent into that country to pick up
deserters and return them to the army. This company was in the vicinity twice while I was there,
but as I had not lost any Confederates of course I did not hunt them up. These rebel deserters were
also afraid of the Union forces, and as they often visited that part they took good care to avoid
them. I also avoided my friends, as I had no pass, nothing but a verbal leave of absence from my
regimental commander. I was glad when my week was up as the strain on my mental faculties
was more than I cared to bear. At any rate the fear of capture overbalanced the fun. My friends
came almost home with me, and when I got to camp and curled up in my bunk I got rid of several
large sighs of relief.
We remained her until Sherman had taken Atlanta and Hood had started north on his great raid.
Altoona is five miles south of the Etowah River, where we were stationed, and when the rebels
under General French were trying to capture the place I could hear the musketry, and when they
made their final charge I could hear the rebel yell very plain. General French sent his engineer to
look after the roads in our direction, but he rode into our picket line at the wood yard and was
gobbled up. He failed to report to his chief on time, so we were not molested. About the 1st of
November we broke camp and moved south, passing through Alatoona, Ackworth, Big Shanty,
and Marietta arriving about the 10th at Atlanta. Here we found great preparations were being
made for the march to the sea.
*
THE MARCH TO THE SEA
(Santa Cruz Daily Sentinel Feb. 7 1886)
"Our camp-fires shone bright on the mountain
That frowned on the river below,
As we stood by our guns in the morning,
And eagerly watched for the foe;
When a rider came out of the darkness
�That hung over mountain and tree,
And shouted 'Boys, up and be ready
For Sherman will march to the sea!"
Bright and early on the 15th of November 1864, we filed out of Atlanta. We were going
somewhere, we did not know where. Our destination might be Savannah, Augusta, or even
Pensacola, in case we should meet with any unforeseen difficulty. Of course we common soldiers
knew nothing positive in regard to our destination. All we knew was that we had cut loose from
our base, had sent all our extra trains and sick to the rear, had written our farewell letters to friends
in Northland, and were in for it, let the outcome be good or bad.
We had all confidence in Sherman, and the idea of getting whipped never entered our heads. In
fact, we started on this march with the greatest hilarity, the bands playing and the boys singing
"John Brown". I have no doubt but what we would have followed Sherman right into Sheol had
the commander desired to lead us to that place.
An army consisting of 65,000 men, all of whom were veterans, some begrimed by the smoke of
twenty battles, are not to be despised, and could Sherman and Lee have locked horns about this
time there would in all probability have occurred one of the most stubbornly contested battles of
the war. Our first town after leaving Atlanta was McDonough. From there we passed on to
Jackson. These towns were situated in a fertile country, rich in hogs and sweet potatoes. Each
division had a band of foragers, commanded by a commissioned officer. These started at daylight
on foot and scoured the country for miles on either side of the road. When they came to a
plantation they would hitch up all the teams they could find not excepting the family carriage.
When all the wagons were full and anything more remained it was packed on the back of horses or
mules and brought along that way. An old family carriage that cost a thousand dollars before the
war looked the least bit out of place when filled with bacon, and the coachman's seat occupied by
a Yankee bummer, but I have seen them used in that way more than once on that march. We
generally got into camp early in the afternoon if our division happened to be in front; if in the rear
it would be nearly sundown before we stacked arms. We had plenty of coffee, sugar and hardtack,
to which add sweet potatoes and pork. It all made a very respectable bill of fare. In fact, we lived
in clover, fared sumptuously every day, and by way of comparison I will say that the March to the
Sea was the most enjoyable of all my army experience. The third day out from Atlanta we crossed
the Ocmulgee River. This was quite a nice stream, with rather a swift current, and seemed well
adapted for furnishing waterpower for any kind of manufacturing purposes. Our cavalry foraged
for corn and fodder for their horses, and it was no uncommon thing to see a cavalryman with quite
a bundle tied on behind the saddle. The Southerners made this fodder by pulling the blades from
the corn and interlacing them among the stocks in the hill in such a way that they would not fall to
the ground. When sufficiently cured, they would go late in the evening or early in the morning
and bind it into bundles. It was carried to the stack yard on the backs of the Negroes and stacked
around a pole. The fodder was very brittle, and could not be handled in the heat of the day without
great loss. I recollect seeing an old lady with a long club standing guard over a small stack of
fodder. She had considerable trouble, as nearly every soldier made an attempt -mostly in fun- to
take it. She had a long watch, as the 15th corps all came by this place.
When we got into camp in the evening our rations of hog and sweet potatoes were issued to us.
We boiled our meat in a large camp kettle, and when nearly done we would put in a lot of
potatoes. After supper we scraped the fire away and put the balance of the potatoes in the hot
sand, and by morning they were done nicely. These we put in our haversacks to eat during the
�day.
About once a week we stopped for a day, not merely to rest, but to gather forage and other
portions of the army a chance to close up. On one of these occasions our company was out as
guard for a lot of wagons that were gathering forage. The sky was cloudy and a light drizzling
rain was falling. As we were coming home we were attacked by some Confederate cavalry. Our
guns were wet so that half of them would not go off. They rode through our ranks but did no
serious damage; we finally drove them off. A rebel cavalryman rode over and knocked down a
soldier in our company on this occasion, and shot at him three times while down with a revolver,
and then rode on our boy got up without a scratch, which was not saying much for the
marksmanship of the Johnny. At another time when we were resting a day our Chaplain held
divine service, but the boys did not take kindly to church matters, and on this occasion I noticed
three or four games of poker in full blast within a few feet of the Chaplain. Of course this was all
wrong, but the boys could not see in that light.
A great many of the boys were mounted, and so many old mules and horses became obnoxious to
General Sherman that he ordered them killed, but there was catching before hanging in this case.
The boys would dodge into the brush and elude the would be horse killers. But at last they got us.
When we got to the Oconee River we had to cross on a pontoon, so all the old horses and mules
were taken from us and shot.
At last we got through the settled portion of the State and entered the great pine forest. This is a
strip of country about sixty miles wide and covered with a kind of pitch pine. The soil is almost
pure white sand, with scattering bunches of grass. I, don't recollect of seeing but one house, and
that a miserable cabin; the windows were filled with white headed children, who with eyes and
mouth open took in the March to the Sea.
I also saw a few places where rosin and turpentine had been made. As a matter of course there
was no foraging in a country like this, so we had to depend on the contents of our wagons, and by
the time we reached the Oguchee river we were out of rations. We crossed at King's bridge and
moved up to the defenses of Savannah. He we found plenty of rice, on which we lived for ten
days. The rice had the husk on and looked very much like barley. We had to beat this husk off in
a mortar with a pestle. I roasted the rice; beat it fine in a tine cup with a bayonet, and then made
coffee of it, but can't say that it was good. The rebel, Gen. Hardee was in Savannah, and had all
the approaches well fortified. This was an easy matter, as the city was almost surrounded by
impassible swamps. Around these swamps grew many live oaks. These were very large at the
ground, but the trunks were short, the limbs were large and very long and hanging in festoons,
from every leaf and twig was what is known as Spanish moss. This parasite if found all over the
southern country, particularly near watercourses, and is gathered and sold in market, being used
for upholstering purposes.
*
THE SIEGE OF SAVANNAH
(Santa Cruz Daily Sentinel Feb. 14, 1886)
Fort McAllister, at the mouth of the Ogeechee, garrisoned by a small force of the enemy, lay
between us and our hard tack. Our supply ships were in Ossabaw Sound waiting for the
obstructions to be removed from the river, when they would come up to the landing at King's
Bridge.
The taking of this fort was allotted to Gen. Hazen, and on the evening of Dec. 13th he assaulted
�and captured the place with all the garrison. The torpedoes were now cleared out of the river and
the boats came up with our long looked for hard tack and bacon. About this time, the 13th of
December, our division made a reconnaissance along the Ogeechee Canal. We followed the
towpaths, our brigade, commanded by Gen. Clark, in the advance, and our regiment in the rear of
the brigade. Across the canal to our left the 17th corps was having a noisy battle with the enemy,
but the dense undergrowth shut both parties from our view. When we neared the scene of the
conflict our brigade was halted and our regiment was ordered to the front, for the reason that we
had two of the best skirmishing companies in the brigade. We again moved forward by the flank,
Generals Clark commanding the brigade, Smith commanding the division, Osterhaus commanding
the corps and Howard the army of the Tennessee, which were near the head of the column. For a
while we had dry ground on our right, but soon this gave place to a swamp, so we were confined
to the use of the tow path, which was about wide enough to drive a wagon on. The swamp was
not very wide at this point and was dotted over with tufts or bunches of grass. When about
opposite the fighting on our left we were ordered to halt. Soon our attention was attracted to a
colored man that as wading through the mud and water, waist deep, and coming towards us. He
finally floundered out on the towpath and commenced to tell us that he had been working on the
breast works of the enemy, and a good opportunity offering he had escaped. He said we were close
to their works, which were hidden by brush and trees. His pronunciation was very funny, and he
finally got off something that made the boys laugh. This attracted the enemy's attention, and they
opened on us. They had a raking fire on us and the order was given to counter march. Things
were decidedly mixed up at this time. Gen. Howard personally superintended the movements.
When we got back a little ways, they crossed over to the dry ground by stepping on the bunches of
grass. One man missed his footing and going into the mud up to his knapsack, the other boys
pulling him out. One of Howard's bodyguards attempted to ride through this mud, and his horse
went down; he jumped off and scrambled out, his horse sinking out of sight in less than one
minute. When our regiment was home on veteran furlough, our Major, Thomas a McNaught, was
presented by his friends with a fine black stallion, four years old and weighing about 1,300
pounds. He was naturally very proud of him. He was at the rear of the regiment when the firing
began, and when we countermarched he called me and ordered me to take his horse to a place of
safety. I thought that would be a good job, as it would give me a chance to save my own bacon at
the same time. The horse was very much excited at the leaden bees that were buzzing around him.
I thought that the best way would be to mount him and ride as fast as I could to the rear, so I
leaped upon his back, but instead of riding to the rear he reared up and commenced to walk
backward toward the canal. I jumped off in time to prevent him from falling in the water. About
this time an orderly attempted to ride between me and the canal. My horse kicked both into the
water. I presume they got out, but I had no time to look after them.
I finally led him along till I got to the end of the swamp. Here a battery occupied the towpath,
and the only way to get through was to pass between two trees that stood about four feet apart.
Beyond these was dry ground and safety, but my horse refused to go through the gap. He turned
his side to the opening, completely closing it up, and resisted all my endeavors to move him. I
looked down the towpath and I saw General Raum with the 2d Brigade coming up at a double
quick. I was tugging away at my horse, but without success. Gen Raum came up and stopped, as
did the regiments in his rear. The situation was becoming critical. A sixteen-dollar man and a
three hundred dollar horse were preventing reinforcements from going to the front. I knew there
would be a change in the situation before long, so I kept one eye on the horse and the other on
Raum, resolving to cut and run at the first sign of danger and leave the horse to his fate, for I
�believed that the officer would shoot the horse or myself, or perhaps both of us without delay.
Finally I gave the horse a surge and crowded him into the swamp, where I held him till the whole
brigade passed between those trees. I then got him through and on dry land, and turned him over
to the Major's colored hostler. One of our boys got two of his toes mashed off in trying to stop a
cannon ball that came slowly rolling along. Another was leaning against a tree, when a cannon
ball struck the ground and bouncing, struck the tree, knocking the man insensible for a few
moments. On the 20th of December General Hardee abandoned the city and crossed with his men
over the Savannah River into South Carolina. The next morning we marched in and fair Savannah
was ours.
Sherman sent the following dispatch to President Lincoln: "I beg to present you, as a Christmas
gift, the city of Savannah, with 150 heavy guns and plenty of ammunition, and also 25,000 bales
of cotton."
We went into camp in the suburbs in a grove of live oaks. We found Savannah to be a very nice
place, with broad streets lined with shade trees. Near the center of the city, in a small fork, was a
monument in memory of Count Pulaski, who fell in the siege of Savannah during the
Revolutionary war. The monument is supposed to mark the spot where that officer fell. It is a
marble shaft about 60 feet high, and near the base is an equestrian portrait of the count carved in
the marble. Near our quarters was a two-story house, vacant. We were in need of firewood, so
someone pulled a board off the house. There was grand rush, and in half an hour I helped to carry
away the last still. The only pause in the work was when the structure fell. Some would call that
vandalism, but we got the wood; that was all we cared for.
The winter was very mild, I recollect only two or three frosts, but in the way of fog I will put
Savannah against the world. I remember on two occasions that the fog was so dense that the camp
guards all lost their beats, and the cry of corporal of the guard, post number one, two, etc., was
heard all night, and when one relief went on, the old guard in going to their quarters ran over my
"pup" tent, knocking it down, and interfering very much with the peace and quietude of my pard
and I. We had a grand review during the winter of the four corps by General Sherman, after which
we began making preparations for the conquest of the Carolinas. Nearly all our army had a grudge
at South Carolina for being the first to start the war, and many threats were made by the boys what
they would do when they got in that State, and from what I saw afterwards they made their word
good. There was a rumor in camp that we were going by steamer to Virginia to reinforce, and in
fact I believe such an order was issued but was after countermanded.
*
THROUGH SOUTH CAROLINA
(Santa Cruz Daily Sentinel Feb. 21, 1886)
Early in the spring of 1865 Gen. Sherman had completed his preparations for the conquest of the
Carolinas. Again we were going to cut loose from our base and depend to a great extent on the
country for our support. The larger part of the troops took steamers and went to Beaufort, while
others crossed above at Sisters Ferry, but our division crossed the river where partly on our own
pontoons. We were going to Pocotaligo by the old causeway. We also had two large trains of
wagons. After getting over the river we found ourselves in the midst of some large rice
plantations. These were cut up by ditches, used to drain the land after it had been flooded. We
had gone two or three miles from the river when suddenly the water began to raise in the ditches.
Gen John E. Smith, our commander, countermarched his division, and we started back to
�Savannah as fast as we could go. When we got back to some high ground near the river, I could
see the whole country over which we had just marched covered with water. Some of the rear
regiments had to wade, toward the last, but no one was drowned; indeed, it was a narrow escape.
A large number of wagons were left in the water, the teamsters escaping with the mules. It was
generally understood at the time that some citizens, with rebel sentiments, had raised the
floodgates and attempted to do with water what they had failed to do with powder. We had a twowheeled ambulance, drawn by one horse, which had been with our regiment since early in 62; our
surgeon generally used it to haul his medicines in. We had to leave this ambulance on this
occasion, and the last time I saw it the water was up to the top of the wheels. We all lamented its
loss. We finally got back to Savannah and the next day we got aboard the steamer Mariposas and
went to Beaufort. We marched from here on a kind of causeway to Pocotaligo, where our corps
was concentrating preparatory to its march to Columbia. When the tide was down I remember of
seeing great banks of oysters. The boys would wade in and get as many as they could carry out
through the mud. The darkies would bring them in camp and sell them at ten cents a pint. We
started on our march on the first day of February, our faces turned toward Columbia. Our
quartermaster issued codfish on this morning before we started. I remember how very large they
were, and that we left them all laying on the ground for soldiers have no use for codfish on a
march. Why they were issued at this particular time will probably forever remain a mystery. We
saw nothing of the enemy until we reached the Salkiehatchie River. Here we found the river much
swollen by recent rains and the bridges destroyed. The enemy had adopted the Salkiehatchie as a
line of defense. As we neared the wet bottomland I saw some soldiers digging for supposed
treasure, but when they got down about four feet they found the corpse of a Negro baby. But not
all graves in this country contained a corpse, as sometimes a brass cannon or trunks containing
valuables were found in graves. We waded knee deep in water across the bottom, and crossed the
main river, which was narrow, on a single timber. Wheeler's cavalry were guarding the river at
this point, but they beat a hasty retreat without firing a shot. We found a church near the opposite
bank that was known as the Salkiehatchie Church. Wheeler's cavalry had gutted it, taking the
organ out, breaking in the top and feeding horses in it. To show you how big a hurry these cavalry
were in, I will say that they left their meat in little piles as they broiled it, not having time to pick it
up. When we got over we marched out in an open field and commenced to make a breastwork of
rails, about a half a mile way on a ridge. Drawn up in line of battle was Wheeler's brigade of
cavalry, their right resting near a farm house. When our brigade had got over and formed in line
of battle, I noticed about 25 foragers mounted on mules going toward the house on the rebel right.
I suppose Wheeler thought we were trying to outflank him, so he made good his retreat. We now
fell back to the vicinity of the church, stacked arms and were taking a rest. Down a road, which
came in from our right came a regiment of cavalry leisurely riding along. When they got within
40 rods of us they suddenly wheeled their horses and rode off as fast as they could. They proved
to be rebels going up to the church, not being aware that another sect had taken possession. We
moved on from here to Lynch Creek, where we rested a couple of days. The citizens of South
Carolina said we treated them better than Wheeler's men did. Sherman's army burned a good
many houses, more perhaps than was necessary, but the old grudge of firing on Fort Sumter was
still fresh in the minds of our boys, and a little unnecessary destruction of property was to be
expected. We were now traveling over roads that had been used by the American and British
armies nearly one Hundred years before. That daring partisan, Gen. Francis Marion, had ridden
along these same roads while in quest of some English baggage wagons, or en route to break up
some Tory camp. The land was very poor, hardly strong enough to sprout peas. I am now
�speaking of the uplands, the bottoms being more productive. We were now approaching the
capital of the State, and we expected some trouble in crossing the Congaree River. We struck the
river below Columbia, and marched up opposite the city. One of our batteries fired a few shots at
the State House. I could see covered wagons leaving the city as fast as they could go. We
marched up above the city and crossed over the Saluda. On this march we passed a prison pen,
used, I believe, for Union officers. I believe it was called Camp Sorghum. In general appearance
it was like all other rebel prisons. The prisoners had dug holes in the ground and covered them
over with brush, or whatever they could find. It certainly was a cheerless place. The Congaree
River is formed by the junction of the Saluda and Broad Rivers. They came together some two or
three miles above Columbia. After we crossed the Saluda we still had the Broad River to cross.
There was some skirmishing back and forth across the river. Early the next morning some troops
crossed the river and drove the enemy away, and we proceeded to lay or pontoon bridge. This was
done by 12 o'clock, and we crossed over and marched on a broad road between old fields of corn
and cotton and entering the city, our flags flying and our bands playing "Yankee Doodle."
*
THE BURNING OF COLUMBIA
(Santa Cruz Daily Sentinel February 28, 1886)
There has been considerable said pro and con by the leading Generals of the war on both sides.
Those on the side of the Union endeavored to palliate the offense, while those on the Southern
side made every effort to fasten the blame of the burning of Columbia on their Northern enemies.
General Sherman, in his Memoirs, says that Wade Hampton, before he evacuated the city, had
piled a large quantity of cotton in the streets and fired it, and that the heat was so intense that he
(Sherman) had to ride his horse on the sidewalk to get by, all of which I know to be true; and we
also had to march on the sidewalk to avoid the heat. After rolling the bales into the street the
ropes and bagging had been cut, and a match applied. There was no blaze but a kind of
smoldering fire, and little bits of cotton were flying in the air, reminding one of a snowstorm. Our
corps, the only one that passed through the city, marched out on the Camden road and went into
camp, and as soon as possible everybody went back to the city to see the sights. On the sidewalk
on Main Street was a Palmetto flag, the emblem of South Carolina. It was spread out so that all of
Uncle Sam's soldiers could step on it that so desired. It was made of silk and was very handsome,
having a palmetto tree in upper right hand corner. Whisky was also abundant and a large amount
had been emptied in the streets and was running in the gutters. From these I saw some half
intoxicated soldiers down on their hands and knees drinking. At another place was a large tank
filled with liquor, and could be dipped out with a bucket. Early in the evening I could see from
the general appearance of things that times would be lively that night. Considerable foraging was
already going on, principally for tobacco, as we had been short of the weed for some time. Our
mess got a box of Petersburg natural leaf, which satisfied us for the time being in that line. Not far
from where we were encamped was an old well about sixty feet deep; there was no water, but
several feet of mud and leaves in it. About dark a drunken soldier fell in this well. An artillery
rope was procured and he was drawn out, and, wonderful to relate only slightly injured.
A number of our soldiers, who had been prisoners in Camp Sorghum and the Asylum, during the
hurry and excitement of the evacuation, made their escape and secreted themselves until we
arrived in the city. Among these was Adjutant Byers of the Fifth Iowa, author of "Sherman's
March to the Sea."
�About sundown the wind came up from the north, and blew quite a gale, the cotton in the streets
began to blaze, and some houses near by caught fire. The city was full of soldiers under the
influence of liquor, having a high old time. I shall not disguise the fact that houses were purposely
fired and trunks broken open, and a general destruction of property was brought about; but will
say that most of the fires were kindled by men who had been prisoners among the rebels and were
nearly starved. I don't blame them for burning the city; it was certainly a just retribution on this
the cradle of secession.
Wade Hampton's house standing on an eminence in the suburbs caught fire and was burned to the
ground. In it was handsome furniture and large, costly mirrors. By 8 o'clock the whole of Main
Street was a sheet of fire. General Logan sent two brigades to try and stop the fire, but the high
wind prevented anything from being done. They finally turned their attention to saving the
women and children and what property they could. It was reported that quite a number of our
soldiers perished in the flames, but I can't vouch for its truth. Our boys got a large number of
keepsakes. One man in our regiment got a gold headed cane on which was the inscription,
"Presented to _____in honor of your being Speaker of the South Carolina House of
Representatives when the Ordinance of Secession was passed." He cut the gold head off and
carried it in his pocket. It was perhaps worth fifty dollars. Nearly all the boys brought some thing
away by which to remember South Carolina.
Pollard, in his history of the war from a rebel standpoint, says that the "Rev. Mr. Shand, the
Episcopalian clergyman, while conveying a trunk containing the communion service of silver
from the church of the South Carolina college, was accosted by a Yankee and a negro who
compelled him, under threat of death, to give it up."
The above may or may not be true, but I remember on two occasions after we left Columbia that
our wagon trains were suddenly surrounded on going into camp and searched. Perhaps they were
looking for this communion service, perhaps not. The teamsters would empty a box of crackers
and then fill it with tobacco or clothing or anything they chose.
The morning of the 18th revealed a destroyed city. From the State House to Cotton Town
nothing but blackened ruins remained. The families that were burned out were for the most part
camped in the parks with what little furniture and bedding they had saved beside them. They
looked dejected and appeared stupefied by the great calamity that had befallen them. The walls of
the brick buildings falling continually, making it dangerous to travel the streets. I went down and
took a look at the new State House. The marks of three shells were plainly visible on the walls;
one of them struck near the corner and knocked out a large piece of the wall, but the injury was
trifling. Some small buildings that stood near, in which was stored marble for finishing work, had
been burned and the marble destroyed. Inside of the building was a bronze statue of George
Washington, which had been sent down from Richmond; it was of life size, and represented the
Father of his Country, leaning on a cane and looking exceedingly good. Some Yankee "vandals"
had taken his little hatched and chopped this cane off and carried it away. I don't think that was
the right way to treat George, as he had nothing to do with bringing on the war. A little way off
was a palmetto tree, the artificial one. At its base was a pedestal, on the sides of which were
engraved the names of the South Carolina Volunteers who fell in the Mexican war. The tree
looked so natural that to make sure that it was not I threw a stone into its top when the metallic
ring showed of what material it was made. The teams were busy hauling ammunition and
throwing it into the river. While this was going on quite a serious accident happened. A shell
down near the water exploded that ignited the loose powder which was scattered from the wagons
down to the water's edge, and a terrific explosion took place. Forty men were killed and wounded;
�also three six-mule teams were completely destroyed. The Captain in charge was never heard of
again. It was supposed that he was blown into the river.
All of the 18th and 19th we spent in destroying the machinery and annals of the Confederacy.
We also broke up a large number of muskets and sabers. We were well pleased with the way we
wiped out this hotbed of secession, and were now ready to continue our march through the
Carolinas.
*
MARCH THROUGH CAROLINA
(Santa Cruz Daily Sentinel Mar. 7, 1886)
When we left Columbia on the morning of March 20, 1865, we took the direct road to Cheraw on
the Great Pedee River. We did not pass through Camden, but so close that a large number of the
boys visited the old Revolutionary battlefield, where Gen Gates was defeated by Lord Cornwallis,
and where that grand old hero, Baron De Kalb, gave up his life fighting for American liberty and
the right of self Government.
We trudged along the yellow clay roads, not seeing any towns or anything else worth
mentioning. I remember of helping to eat Gen. Frank P. Blair's dinner one day, and it came about
this way. The two corps were marching along side by side. We came to a plantation and a general
scramble for chickens took place. Blair's colored cook set his basket down to run after a chicken,
my "bunky" seized the basket and we skipped to a convenient place and partook of a very good
dinner at the expense of the commander of the Seventeenth Corps. What explanation the cook
made to his master when lunchtime arrived I never learned. The Negroes along our route were
very anxious to see Massa Linkum, as they called the President of the United States. On one
occasion we were passing a plantation where there was a large number of Negroes. They inquired
for Massa Linkum, and wanted to know if he was along. Some of the boys told them he was with
us and that he would be along soon; that he was a large man, very fat, and wore a red sash around
his waist and across his shoulder; was riding a bay horse. They referred to the jovial Major of the
Sixty-third Illinois, who was officer of the day, and of course was togged out in full uniform.
When the major came along the Negroes came out and surrounded him. He was very much
astonished at first but he soon tumbled to the racket and laughed as heartily as any one. One
Negro man called for his free papers. The plantations along her were about five miles apart, and
contained on an average about 5,000 acres. There were no small farms, and I saw no houses
except those of the planter, his overseer and the Negro quarters. The latter were generally
arranged in a row at a convenient distance from the overseer, and consisted of a log cabin about 12
x 14 feet, generally of two rooms, and was neatly white washed on the outside. None of the
"white trash" lived here, as they had no show whatever to make a living. All the mechanical
trades were represented after a fashion among the slaves, so that when one planter needed any help
he hired a slave from his neighbor. The Pedee country is very swampy, and a wonderful sight of
corduroy road is needed to cross it. I saw some plantations that were actually on islands being
surrounded by these swamps. The agricultural implements of these people were a great curiosity
to me. Their plows were nearly all wood, only a small piece of iron on the point of the share.
Their horse collars were made of "shucks" platted together, the harness were home made; their
lines were made of tow. Every horse or mule when worked single was driven with two lines.
When hitched to a wagon, a darkey mounted the near mule taking the bridle of the off one in his
hand. No check lines were used, in fact they had never seen any, and were ignorant of their use.
�Growing in these swamps was a kind of water palm; the leaves grew single and looked like the
leaves of the fan palm, only smaller.
On the evening of March 2d, we arrived at Cheraw after a night march, which lasted till near
midnight, hungry and tired, with very little to eat. Our mess would have been destitute of
anything to eat had I not met with a small streak of luck. About midnight our Corps (Fifteenth)
was crossing the track of the Seventeenth. The latter were resting to give us a chance to get by.
As I walked along I saw something that looked like a sack sitting on end near a tree. A number of
soldiers were sitting near, their heads down as though half asleep. It was quite dark, and without
checking my pace I reached out my hand and lifted that sack and took it along. It proved to be a
piece of jeans, which some forager had cut from the loom, and in it was a peck of nigger peas. I
was so rejoiced to think that we had struck it so rich. It takes about three hours to cook these peas,
but we could not wait so long. So as soon as they got a little soft we took them off and proceeded
to have supper. Such a dose of half cooked peas would kill anybody but a soldier; but we were
tough and could stand almost anything.
We found Cheraw to be rather a nice town of perhaps (when at home) 2,000 souls, and situated
on the west bank of the Great Pedee River. This was a wide, deep stream, and, I believe,
navigable for small craft up to this place. The rebels had burned the bridge so that it became
necessary for us to again use our pontoons. General Hardee had sent up a large amount of
property to this place before evacuating Charleston, including ammunition and household goods,
together with about eight carloads of wine. General Blair being along, of course none of the
privates got a taste of this fine old Madeira.
When our pontoon was ready we crossed over and marched across the bottom to the highlands,
where we went into camp and waited for the different wings of the army to close up. On the
morning of March 6th we again took the road, this time for Fayetteville. We had to pass through
the pitch pine forest of South and North Carolina. The trees had a notch out in them similar to the
ones we used to cut in the maple trees to catch the sap. The tree was then scarred up for perhaps
ten feet, with a gouge. Down these scars the sap would run and collect in the notch, when it was
taken out and made into turpentine and rosin. There were also tar kilns where the tar of commerce
was made. The blackest smoke I ever saw was from one of these kilns on fire. The woods caught
fire and one whole day we marched in this blinding smoke. The fire would run up the sides of the
pine trees, feeding on the pitch with which the bark was more or less saturated. On this evening
we had no water except barely enough to make coffee. Everybody was as black as burnt cork
minstrels, and no water to wash. The hair of the soldiers was all alike, smoked black below the
cap and it was hard to recognize the light haired ones.
On the 12th we all arrived at Fayetteville, and thus another stage of the campaign was ended, and
we were now getting close to Joe Johnston again, who was organizing an army in North Carolina
to oppose our progress.
*
HOMEWARD BOUND
(Santa Cruz Daily Sentinel Mar 14, 1886)
On the 11th of February I finished my term of service, having served three years from the time of
my muster into the United States service and three years and four months from the time I first
enlisted and went into camp.
When we arrived at Fayetteville, Gen. Sherman resolved to get rid of the colored and white
�refugees that had joined our ranks during our march through the Carolinas. On the 15th of March
1865, about 100 men of our regiment and the same of the Fifty Sixth Illinois, whose term of
service had expired, bid farewell to that grand old army, the grandest perhaps the sun ever shone
upon. An army that had marched and fought from Wilson's Creek to Atlanta, and though
sometimes checked yet never defeated; an army that had followed Sherman to the sea, mowing a
swath sixty miles wide through the heart of Georgia; an army that had humbled that hot bed of
secession, South Carolina, and made her people feel the heavy hand of war.
I was sorry to part with the boys for we were like brothers. Our trials and sufferings had tended
to cement that tie of friendship, which can never be broken. I was glad that my term of service had
expired; glad that I could again do as I pleased without asking leave of a United States officer;
glad that the Rebellion was on its last legs, and that peace was again about to spread her white
wings over our beloved land, and the time very near when the Star Spangled Banner would float
unmolested from Maine to Texas.
We crossed the Cape Fear River, passed through the city of Fayetteville, turned to the right, and
forever lost sight of that old army which we had known through so many trials and dangers.
Behind us was a train of white and black fugitives, 7,000 strong, the most of them on foot but
many mounted on old mules and broken down horses, others in dilapidated carriages and buggies.
The Negroes carried their worldly goods on their heads, tied up in a sheet or quilt. About three
o'clock we came to a plantation situated on a small creek. A gristmill was near by, and our
commander, Lieutenant Colonel Jeff K. Scott, of the Fifty-ninth Indiana, hunted up the colored
miller, and set him to grinding the corn of which the mill seemed well supplied. All night the mill
run, and when morning came we took the planter's mules and wagons, loaded the latter with corn
meal and started on our march. During this, our second day out, we could hear the sound of
cannons way off in the direction of Bentonville. Sherman had met his old antagonist Joe
Johnston, and quite sever fighting was going on. We soldiers began to mount ourselves by
scouring the country far and near for saddle horses. These were more plentiful than saddles. At
one time one of our boys asked an old planter for a saddle. "I have none on the place suh," was
the answer. "Bring out that saddle," said the soldier, at the same time bringing his gun down and
drawing a bead on the planter. "Jim, you Jim, bring that saddle quick," said he to a little colored
boy, who stood near while the old man fairly danced with fright. The saddle was brought and
placed on the back of one of the horses, and the squad moved out to repeat the tactics at the next
house.
One day- it was Monday- we came to a little church. The tracks of horses about showed that a
meeting had been going on there that day, and had only a few minutes before adjourned. Two of
our boys in search of adventure took a road leading to the left. After riding about half a mile they
came in sight of four persons on horseback, two ladies and two gentlemen. A race for life now
took place. Our boys gained on them until they were within rifle range. The Tar heels, as they
call North Carolinians, now thought they would abandon the girls and save themselves, but our
boys captured the whole lot, and very gallantly escorted the young ladies home, bringing the two
Johnnies back as prisoners. We kept them till next morning and then turned them loose.
Provisions were very scarce, and it was almost impossible to feed so many mouths. Seven
thousand people were a large number to feed off the country as we marched along. The
consequence was that considerable suffering was experienced by the blacks. I frequently gave the
last bite I had to eat to the starving children. One day I came to a house, the owner of which
seemed quite well to do. The first thing I noticed was the smoke house, which I found locked. I
asked the proprietor to unlock to door and save me the trouble of battering it down. He very
�reluctantly applied the key and the door flew open. Several hundred pounds of nice bacon was
hanging up, and I was proceeding to lower a fine ham, when the owner very honestly informed me
that he had a couple of school ma'ams boarding with him, and desired that I would take side meat
and leave the hams for his boarders. I very politely informed him that I thought side meat plenty
good enough for school teachers, and I proceeded to load myself with the best I could find. About
this time some more of the boys came up, and then the Negroes, and in a few minutes the last
piece of bacon was gone.
The bacon made and cured in the South far excels that made in any other part of the country in
flavor, as anyone will bear witness who has ever eaten it. As we neared Wilmington our
command presented a motley appearance. There must have been at least fifty buggies and
carriages in which our "vets" were riding. Some had girls with them, whose families were
refugees. Some had donned plug hats. The cavalcade reminded me very much of the Fourth of
July "horribles." When we got to Wilmington we went into camp and waited for a mustering
officer to muster us out. The detachment of the Fifty-sixth Illinois got tired of waiting, so took the
steamer for Fortress Monroe. When off Cape Hatteras the steamer (General Lyon) took fire and
burned up, nearly all of the boys perishing with her.
On the 4th of April 1865, we were mustered out by Captain Campbell, and on the next day we
boarded the steamer Nevada for Fortress Monroe. There we remained one day, and in the evening
we took the mail steamer for Baltimore, by way of Chesapeake Bay. On our arrival in that city we
went to the Soldiers' Home. There we found a detachment of soldiers with about fifty bounty
jumpers, which they were taking to the front. One soldier had one of them handcuffed. One of the
irons on his (the guard's) left wrist, the other on the bounty jumpers’ right. The guard told me that
the man had jumped twenty-seven bounties, and that he was now going to take him to the front or
both perish together.
I spent a day looking at the sights around the city, including the Washington monument, and then
took the cars for Indianapolis, Ind. passing through the historic town of Harper's Ferry, where John
Brown, with a handful of men, threw the whole State of Virginia into spasms.
About the middle of April we arrived at the capital of Indiana, were paid off, mustered out, and
separated for our respective homes
THE END
�(Civil War Sailor Memorial)
A VOICE OF THE G.A.R.
ISAAC LAWTON BLAISDELL
(1837-1902)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
No Santa Cruz County Civil War veteran expressed more patriotic fervor in his articles, poems
and letters, or was more of a gadfly than Isaac L Blaisdell. In his written correspondence
appearing in the Santa Cruz Sentinel, Blaisdell shared his experience as a sailor during the war,
the problems existing within his local Grand Army of the Republic post and his social and
political concerns of the day.
Isaac Lawton Blaisdell was born in Taunton, Massachusetts in September 1837, and at an early
age moved with his family to Providence, Rhode Island. In 1855 Isaac left home to go to sea and
remained a seaman until October 1861 when he left for Boston to enlist in the US Navy. His
enlistment records indicate that he was five feet eight inches in height, with black hair and blue
eyes. During the war he served as a “coal bearer,” (fireman) aboard the USS Mohican and US
Pocahontas, which were part of the South Atlantic and West Gulf blockading squadrons.
On Sept. 16, Blaisdell was honorably discharged from the navy, and returned to Providence,
Rhode Island where he secured work in a local foundry. Soon afterward he married a Harriett
Newhall. As a result of a sciatic nerve problem affecting his leg and hip Isaac was unable to
continue his work at the foundry, and began work as a clerk in a dry goods store.
In 1867 Isaac and Harriet were divorced, and Blaisdell left for California, stopping briefly in
Idaho before arriving in Santa Clara County in 1868. After securing employment as a bookkeeper
in a Gilroy lumber company he sent for his fiancée, Mary Spellbrink who lived in Pennsylvania.
Upon Mary’s arrival in San Francisco on October 30, 1868 the couple were married, and settled in
Gilroy where they remained for nine years.
The Blaisdell’s left Gilroy in 1877 and moved to Santa Cruz County and Isaac began working
�with a Felton Lumber company. Shortly thereafter the family acquired a home on Ocean Street in
the city of Santa Cruz where Isaac and Mary raised their four children.
Throughout his life in Santa Cruz Isaac Blaisdell remained an outspoken critic of various social
and political issues. He wrote poems in opposition to local workmen being replaced by “cheap
foreign” (Chinese) labor, the need for a strong national “free silver” policy, the importance of
voting and similar issues. Isaac’s interest in politics ultimately resulted in his being elected as the
Branciaforte Township Justice of the Peace in 1892.
Isaac Blaisdell’s community involvement was highlighted by a strong belief in the importance of
fraternal organizations. He was an active member in the Ancient Order of United Workers, and
for over eighteen years served as its “Financer”. Blaisdell also became involved with the Knights
of Honor and acted as its “Financial Reporter.”
Above all Isaac Blaisdell was a Grand Army of the Republic man. It was in response to the
fraternal, charitable and loyalty aspects of that organization that he devoted most of his
correspondence. Isaac joined the W.H. L. Wallace post of the GAR In Santa Cruz sometime
between 1881 and June of 1884. Until his death in 1902 he contributed a flood of letters,
remembrances, poems and editorial comments to the Santa Cruz Sentinel under the pen names
“Veteran”, “Adjutant”, “Naval Veteran”, “Comrade” and possibly others. He was also
instrumental in establishing a Memorial Day tradition in Santa Cruz of honoring departed sailors
by the placing of wreaths upon the waters off the local pier. On December 24, 1902 Isaac
Blaisdell suffered a stroke and died at the age of 65. His remains were buried in the family plot at
the IOOF (Santa Cruz Memorial Gardens) Cemetery.
Source Reference: http://www.santacruzpl.org/history/articles/608/
Fold3 History and Genealogy Archives (Mary C Blaisdell Page 59) http://www.footnotelibrary.com/
�THE GRAND ARMY of the REPUBLIC
The following brief history of the Grand Army of the Republic and the Wallace and Reynolds Post
may prove helpful in better understanding Isaac Blaisdell’s GAR concerns and perspectives.
Of all American veteran organizations the most influential was the Grand Army of the Republic
comprised of Union veterans of the Civil War. It was the most powerful single-issue political
lobby in the United States at the end of the late nineteenth century. In addition to securing
massive pensions for veterans, it controlled significant power in both state and federal legislative
bodies. Five of the U.S. Presidents elected were GAR members, as were most of the northern
states governors. To its members however, it was a fraternal order that provided entertainment,
charitable funds for their needy comrades, and an outlet for patriotic activities.
Dr. Benjamin F. Stephenson, a surgeon with the 14th Illinois Infantry, founded the GAR at
Springfield Ill., in April 1866, and its first Commander in Chief was Gen. Stephen A Hurlbut also
of Illinois. Hurlbut was succeeded by its most illustrious commander, Gen John Logan, who was
instrumental in the creation of Memorial Day in 1868. During the eighty-eight years of its
existence the organization, had seventy-seven commanders comprised of politicians, professionals
and every day workers.
From 1871, when reliable membership figures were first recorded, through 1878, the GAR never
exceeded 31,000 men. Then began a steady growth that brought the total in 1890 to a peak of
409,489 dues paying members, approximately 40% of the Union veterans reported in the 1890
census. Vigorous recruiting efforts, a desire for an inexpensive social outlet and the zeal of the
national organization in pressing for veteran's pension legislation all contributed to the GAR's
impressive growth during the 1880's. Other significant activities of the Grand Army included
advocacy programs for the creation and maintenance of old soldiers' homes and hospitals, military
training in high schools, Flag Day and the inculcation of patriotism in youth through their
selection of history curriculums used in public schools.
After 1890 the strength and influence of the GAR diminished rapidly and its orientation became
increasingly nonpartisan. During the 20th century it concentrated its efforts on fraternal and
patriotic activities. In 1949 the Grand Army's 83rd and final encampment was attended by six of
its sixteen surviving members. Prior to disbanding, and before the death of its last member, Albert
Woolson in 1956, the G.A.R. designated the Sons of Union Veterans of the Civil War as its legal
heir and representative.
WALLACE-REYNOLDS POST NO. 32 G.A.R.
Following the Civil War in 1866, members of Company K of the 5th California Infantry,
Company A of the 8th California Infantry and Co. L of the 2nd California Cavalry returned to
Santa Cruz where they formed a detachment of the California Veterans Corp. The purpose of the
organization was to assist returning veterans in seeking employment, and the obtaining back pay.
With the birth in Illinois of the Grand Army of the Republic in 1866, other veteran organizations
began merging into it, and on February 15, 1868 the Santa Cruz Veterans Corp became Baker Post
#6 of the GAR. The post continued to grow and remain active until 1871 when interest in
veteran's organizations began to wane. By the end of 1872, falling membership forced the Baker
Post to close its doors.
�At the beginning of the 1880's local Civil War veterans were in need of an advocate to assist
them in obtaining pensions and medical assistance, and attention was once again turned to the
Grand Army of the Republic. On September 10, 1881 GAR representatives arrived in Santa Cruz
and the Wallace Post #32 was mustered into its Department of California. The post soon began
meeting, conducting business and sharing fraternalism at the IOOF Building at Pacific and Church
Streets where they remained until 1932.
The local posts served veterans through a variety of charitable outreach programs. When a
veteran required financial assistance the post was usually able to provide a few dollars, and when a
veteran became ill they were assisted in obtaining medical assistance. Their auxiliary, the
Woman's Relief Corp, often provided food and clothing to needy veterans and their families. It
was a desire of the GAR to insure that no comrade would be subjected to a pauper grave, and on
December 4, 1884 they acquired a plot at Evergreen Cemetery in Santa Cruz to bury needy and
indigent veterans.
In 1885 dissension broke out between members of the Wallace Post as to how the post would
support a national GAR convention visitation to Santa Cruz from San Francisco. This resulted in
the splitting of the post. On January 2, 1886 the J.F. Reynolds Post 98 was formed by dissident
members and moved into quarters in the Masonic Building on Pacific Ave. By 1894 their
differences had been reconciled, and on Feb 2, 1895 the two posts became the Wallace-Reynolds
Post.
Throughout their remaining years, the GAR in Santa Cruz concentrated its efforts on promoting
patriotic activities. Memorial Day services held at Evergreen Cemetery and at the wharf, Flag
Day events at Booth's Grove, school visitations, and World War I rallies all helped enhance the
Grand Army image within the community. By the 1920's, when seen in their familiar blue coats
with GAR buttons and badges, they were accorded the status of historical celebrities. In 1932 few
of these "old soldiers" were available for the post's final move into the Veterans Memorial
Building. By 1940 only two members remained. On June 11, 1948 John Smith, the last surviving
member of the Wallace-Reynolds Post, died at the California Veterans Home in Yountville, and
the Grand Army of the Republic in Santa Cruz came to an end.
�THE CIVIL WAR REMEMBRANCE,
POEMS AND LETTERS of
ISAAC L. BLAISDELL
In 1886 Isaac Blaisdell provided the Santa Cruz Sentinel with his “War Remembrances” articles.
Below are two episodes of that serial that appeared in the Sentinel. The second installment of
War Remembrances makes reference to a continuation of the story “ in the near future;” however
that installment, if written, could not be located.
Reminiscences of the War
(Santa Cruz Daily Sentinel Mar. 30, 1886)
I enlisted in the U.S. Navy, Oct. 8th, 1861, on board the U.S.S. Mohican, Captain Gordon
Commander. She was a second class sloop of war, mounting two eleven inch pivot guns, six long
thirty two pounder broadside guns, one eighty four pounder pivot rifle Dahlgren gun, with
wrought iron breech over casting to strengthen the piece. This was capable of throwing shot or
shell over five miles. She also carried one ten pounder Parrott rifle, on her top gallant forecastle,
and two twenty four pound howitzers on the quarter deck; in all twelve guns. She was a
formidable ship, being considered equal to a vessel of the old style carrying 40 guns broadside,
without eleven-inch pivot guns. It is not generally understood the immense advantage these
formidable guns give to a ship carrying them. They are capable of throwing solid shot three miles,
and shell three and a half miles, and deliver their fire five or six points forward or aft the beam.
These guns take fifteen pounds of powder to the charge for shell and twenty pounds for solid shot.
We were ordered first to New York, and then to the rendezvous in Hampton Roads, Virginia,
where we cast anchor among the many gunboats and other war ships that had preceded us. This
was the latter part of October. It was a grand sight, presented by the collection of war vessels and
the transports, gathered for the purpose of descending upon some southern port. The destination at
this time was unknown, save to the flag officer, Commodore Dupont, on board the flag ship
Wabash, a frigate of the first class, carrying fifty-two guns and a complement of 500 men. There
were sailing ships, river steamboats, and tugs, the whole comprising this great expedition, the land
forces being in the command of Brigadier General T.W. Sherman, and the naval forces under the
command of Admiral Dupont. On Tuesday, October 29, 1861, this magnificent equipment of land
and naval forces put to sea. When about two or three days out a terrific gale came on, and the fleet
became scattered in a short time. The side-wheel steamer, Governor, went down, just after her
crew had been taken off by the heroic efforts of the crew of the sailing frigate Sabine. The Isaac
Smith was saved by throwing overboard her guns. On board our ship everything had been made
secure. The hatches were battened down, and extra lashings were put upon the pivot and
broadside guns. The wind piped among the shrouds and cordage a tune quite familiar, but not
very pleasant; sometimes causing an unusual roll, so that the boats were dipped in the sea, that
were secured at the davits. The fleet was all scattered on the morning of the second day, and rude
winds still kept up a rage upon the face of the old ocean. About ten or eleven o'clock on this day
the sea was running very high, across that sea that, as is generally found in the vicinity of Cape
Hatteras. We were making good weather of it, and away down on our lee bow we discovered a
�steamer with her Union down, a signal of distress. We quickly bore away for her, and as we came
nearer we could see her crew all standing upon the hurricane deck. We could not come very near
to the steamer, but hove a short distance to windward. A boat was with much difficulty lowered,
and quickly followed by as many brave tars as were wanted. A long line was thrown in, and the
next moment was out from under her lee and pulling down toward the sinking vessel. Our boat
could not come alongside of her on account of the tremendous high sea, so dropping as close as
possible to her stern, the line, with running noose, was thrown from the boat up to the hurricane
deck, where it was caught by one of the distressed crew. The noose was then slipped around the
body under the arms, and then they had to jump overboard, after which they were hauled into the
boat. It was a thrilling scene, and one never to be forgotten. After they were all taken into the
boat, they were brought close to the stern of our ship and one after another again slipped on the
noose, and plunging into the sea, were drawn quickly up to the spanker boom by means of a whip
or tackle, rigged for the purpose. They were pretty well exhausted and were very thankful for
their deliverance, and after stowing away a liberal glass of grog, and donning dry clothing, they
were distributed among the crew, pending our arrival at our journey's end. This steamer proved to
be the Peerless, loaded with cattle for the soldiers and sailors of our expedition. It was pitiable to
hear the poor dumb brutes bellowing as they resisted the efforts made to lighten the ship by
forcing them overboard. We fired a few shots from our forward pivot gun into her, and in a few
minutes she sank beneath the waves and was seen no more. Immediately after this eight bells
were struck, and the boatswain's merry pipes were heard calling us to mess cloth, or supper, as
landsmen would call it, it being four o'clock in the afternoon. Our mess had just gathered around
the cloth, which had been spread on the berth, on account of rough weather. I spoke to one of my
shipmates to be helped to some hard tack that was not within reach, when up jumped one of the
rescued seamen, who had been placed in our mess, saying he had heard that voice before. Rising
up in my place I took a hurried look at the stranger, and the next moment our hands came together
in a genuine grip. This sea waif was no other than Jim Webb, formerly of the good ship Ocean
Express, and was in her during the trip which I am trying to write about in the "Sentinel". This is
but one of the many strange dispositions of Providence experienced in everyday life. It was not
until the morning of Nov. 4th that this grand array of men of war and troop ships cast anchor near
the entrance to Port Royal harbor, about 50 miles south of Charleston. Here was to be enacted one
of the most brilliant naval engagements of modern times. The rebels had removed the buoys to
the channel, and destroyed the lighthouses. Extensive fortifications had been erected upon Bay
Point, called Fort Beauregard, and upon the south shore Hilton Head, called Fort Walker, the two
forts having 42 guns. Some of these were Columbiads, throwing 130 pounds of shot, and none
were less than thirty-two pounders. In connection with these there were less than thirty-two
pounders. In connection with those there was a Commodore Tattnall's fleet of gunboats, stationed
above the Forts, the distance between them being about two miles. The time was well improved
between the 4th and the 7th in sounding and fixing buoys in the channel, and in laying plans for
the approaching conflict. Many a heart beat with anxiety over the coming engagement. And I
must confess that I was no exception to the general rule, and although often exposed to the dangers
of the deep had no idea of how one would feel when death and destruction were going on around
him.
I must now close, for time and space forbid my conclusion of this great expedition. Tomorrow
we shall be under fire, so until then adieu.
*
�Reminiscences of the War
(Santa Cruz Daily Sentinel Apr. 11, 1886)
At the close of my last article I left your readers near the entrance to Port Royal harbor, and on
the morrow we were to be under fire. It was as beautiful a morning as ever seen. A gentle wind
sent the haze floating seaward, while the rising sun glistened through mast and shroud, over the
still waters of the bay, and on the grim batteries lining the shore. Many an eye rests upon this
panorama of Nature and war today, who, ere the sun sinks to rest, will be closed in death, and all
this lovely picture, of ship and shore, be changed. With these introductory sentences I will pass on
and endeavor to tell what is being done on board our ship and on board every vessel that will take
part in the engagement soon to begin. It is now about two bells; the shrill pipes of the boatswain
have just sent up all hammocks from the berth deck, and each one has been stowed in the
hammock netting, five minutes being allowed to turn out, dress, lash with seven turns, and no
wrinkles, your dreaming sack, and deposit the same in the netting; plenty time, too, for a nimble
Jack Tar. This being done, the merry pipes were again heard, some of the blue jackets being sent
to lifts and braces, and everything set taut, fore and aft. Then splinter nettings were placed all
around inside the bulwarks and triced up to the taffrail. Next the decks were sanded down fore
and aft, particularly around the guns. This was an ominous proceeding, and it struck on a cold
vein, sending thoughts of what might before long be mingled therewith. The lashings were
removed from every gun, and every truck journal well oiled; then the train tackles were cleared
away for the foreword and after pivot guns, and the shell and shot whip rigged at the fore-hatch for
sending up fixed ammunition for our battery, all such ammunition being stowed away in the
forward magazine, situated below the after port of the berth-deck and just in front of the step of
the main-mast. Let us go down on the berth-deck and see what is going on there. The forehold
has been closed; it is immediately under the ladder leading up to the spar or gun deck. Looking
towards either wing of the ship, we find that cots to receive the wounded have been swung. Aft of
this the surgeon has arranged his table for the purpose of saving what may be left of the
unfortunate wounded. It is not a very pleasant view, this array of implements, consisting of sharp
knives, fine tooth saws, lint, bandages, splints and sponges, and other articles common to surgery.
This is very pleasant and inspiring just before the battle. The shot locker is open, and peering
down into its darkness one sees piles of shot, shell, grape, canister and spare gun tackle. This
completes the inspection on the berth-deck, and I must return to the gun deck, for passing time
tells me that we shall soon hear the drum calling all hands to quarters. When I reached the above
named part of the ship I found that the signal had been made for the fleet to get up anchor from the
Wabash, our flagship, and the deck tackle had been stretched along the deck, and the fall led aft
through tail blocks around to port side of the ship. So when the boatswain piped up anchor, sixty
or seventy men clapped on the fall, and with a steady tramp, tramp, the huge anchor was soon
aweigh, and a few moments later was securely catted and fished. It was now half-past nine, and
the signal was made from the flagship, to form in line of battle, which was done according to the
rank of commander of the different men of war. First came the majestic Wabash, 52 guns, next
the first-class sloop, Susquehanna, 20 guns; then the old Mohican, 12 guns, followed by the
Bienville and eleven gunboats. The sailing sloop, Vandalia, 22 guns, was towed in by the tug
Isaac Smith. In this order we stood in towards the forts and batteries, every man at his station. I
had been detailed to hold the pipe on the fire hose, and was stationed at the engine room hatch, in
case our ship took fire from the hot shot thrown from the rebel guns should set us on fire. I
belonged to the forward pivot eleven-inch gun, being first shell man, and was ill at ease in my
�inactive position and away from my crew, who always gather around their grim charge with pride
and exultation. We are now within easy range of both batteries, and instantly three puffs of smoke
arose from Fort Walker, and the ball had commenced. The Wabash replied immediately, then the
Susquehanna, and then the old Mohican, passing into the smoke of the battle, opened with the
compliments of our forward pivot gun, which was followed by the after pivot. Our range was then
ascertained, and the proper elevation secured, and then we went in like hearts of oak. Shots were
hissing over our heads from each side, shells were bursting all around us, and hearing a twang
aloft, I cast my eye in that direction and saw that our fore brace had been shot away. This was the
first shot that took any effect upon our ship. The next moment the officer of my division was
struck by a solid shot on the right side of his neck taking one-half away, together with the lower
jaw, leaving one half of his mouth in which a chew of tobacco remained. At this moment
Commodore Dupont came along as I was standing at my post near the officer just killed, and told
me to get a bucket of sand and cover up the pool of blood that but a few moments before warmed
the heart of a brave man and a genial officer. It was getting warm; the powder boys were running
from the magazine to the different guns as fast as their legs could carry them. Shot and shell were
carried with a rush to the same destination. The men seemed to gain heart the hotter it grew. I
could not stand this inaction any longer, and stepping up to Assistant Cuthbert, I obtained consent
to join my gun’s crew, first promising, if our ship took fire, that I would return to my post. It did
not take long for your humble servant to get among the boys, and No. 22 first shell man was soon
engaged in bringing ten-second shell to the first and second loaders. Some of our men had kicked
off their shoes; some pitched their hats into the lee scuppers, while not a few tossed away their
shirts and tied their black silk neck handkerchiefs around their heads. It was a fearful scene; shells
were bursting and shrieking over and around us. Our guns were served very rapidly, and crash,
bang, and whiz was the order of the day. In this kind of style we passed the forts, and dispersed
the Mosquito fleet under Admiral Tattnall’s, of the Confederate navy, who beat a hasty retreat up
Broad River. During this time one of our gunboats had received a shot in her boiler, and drifted
hopelessly out of the fight. We still kept on, and circling around, following our next in line, we
stood in nearer to Fort Walker, in which was thundering away at us bravely in spite of the loss of
several guns that had been dismounted. We passed swiftly by, pouring our fire in a terrible storm
upon their works, while the smoke hung over us in a cloud, and hundreds of shell boxes were
floating with the tide out towards the sea. The circle had been completed, and only one vessel
disabled, and on board of our ship only one man was killed, and but trifling damage done to our
staunch sloop of war. The grog tub was piped up, and the gallant tars, half tripped and blackened
with sweat, filed up, and tossed off their grog, with the sang froid that was pleasing and peculiar to
our sons of the briny deep. Still on our flagship goes, and we are ready for our share. There are
no weak knees now, for all have settled down to real, determined work. You can, as you glance
around, see our men clustering around the gun to which they belong, and in low tones speaking of
the incidents that have occurred. All seem ready and anxious, and here she comes, Boom! Boom!
The leaders of the van are at it again. We see ominous flashes of fire leaping from out the still
defiant embrasures, and whistling messengers of death come crashing through our sides. Splinters
are flying about, and our shipmate, Thompson, while standing at the wheel, steering our noble
craft on in our fiery circle, falls with a shattered leg to the deck, but the wheel is taken by another
brave old tar before the ship can swerve from her course, and a bleeding form goes below to find
the needed care of the surgeon. We have already told you that he was ready, and in a few
moments our shipmate is quite comfortable in one of the cots swinging on the berth deck. We are
firing from our battery ten shots per minute, and the rest of the fleet is firing in about the same
�proportion. The din and thunder, mixed with a cross-fire from the Confederate guns, whose shot
and shell were shrieking and bursting among us, was terrific, and for once in my life, as were
many of the rest, I was deafened, and we had to yell to know that we spoke at all. In this manner
we pass for the second time by the forts and up to the turn. Gallantly our flag still floats over the
brave hearts, and as staunch a wooden fleet as ever floated. The heart swells with pride for our
gallant officers and men as we look over the records of our heroic navy. You will excuse me for
wandering, for an “old vet” has to occasionally.
Once more we round to and bring our starboard battery to bear upon Fort Walker. Her guns are
pounding away at the flagship, and at the Susquehanna, which are just ahead of us. You can see
the splinters flying in board, as they are repeatedly struck, for they are within six hundred yards,
but they; gave back more than gun for gun. Sheets of fire flash forth from their sides, darting out
here and there like serpent tongues. Now we come in for our share; yes, and more than that, for
our noble ship had been drawing too close to the land, too near the fortifications, and just as we
were making our shot tell, and were about five hundred yards off, we ran aground. It was a critical
moment. Shot after shot came through and through our sides. A thirty-two pound shot came
through the port side, about a foot above the deck, passing through a range of sand bags placed
around the combings of the forward engine room hatch, then through both sides of the hatch, and
one more range of bags. Just as it passed through the last range, it went between the legs of a tall
acting master’s mate, and down he goes, for the wind of a shot takes your underpinning away in a
jiffy. Our friend rises to a sitting posture, examines his extremities, rubs his hands over them, and
finally concludes he was fooled that time, and it seemed to give him a good deal of pleasure.
But I had forgotten to tell what became of the ball. Now this is the strangest part of it, for the
history of this shot is not often the same as that of any other hurled at a ship, and for the reason
that after it sent our worthy acting master on his beam ends, it struck the waterway on the
starboard side, and rolled back upon the deck to midships, for it had spent itself and could go no
farther. It was too good a chance to be lost, and one of our jolly tars threw his grappling hook
around it in an instant, and forward it went to one of our thirty-two broadside guns. Just the thing.
The smoke was hardly off of it so in she goes. The gunner squints over his piece, gives the lockstring a jerk and our iron visitor goes back whistling as lively a tune as before. At this point the
gun crew broke forth in a ringing cheer, and in a moment all hands are cheering. It caught from
ship to ship, and all hands had a full share of the uproar. We were suddenly called to belay, for the
ship had run aground as mentioned just before this incident happened, and it was all done in a
couple of minutes. Our engines were backing their best. Word was passed for every; man to lay
down, and just then a voice spoke to Blaisdell, that still small voice we read about, and it said lie
with your head towards the battery. Now readers, I am here today because I obeyed that little
cherub who looks out for poor Jack. I stretched myself full length across the deck, folded my
arms around my head and waited. Around me were many of our crew. One man next to me, poor
Curthbert, lying fore and aft. I hope he yet lives, but he lost both feet at the angle. Had I not done
as described above I would have been cut in twain. Rip, rip, came the shot through and through
one ship, and she trembled from stern to stern. The Wabash and Susquehanna had stopped, and
were pouring their broadsides into the rebels to save our ship and crew from being cut to pieces.
We, at last, fortunately for us, backed off, and soon after passed out of their fire, which was
directed toward vessels in the rear of us. This finished round No. 2. And the old Mohican, or at
least six of her crew, remember this whirl at Port Royal. The Admiral now came in a boat from
the Wabash alongside, and stepping up to the side-ladder inquired our loss, for it was thought at
the time that we had suffered a rough handling by the way the splinters were flying from our
�bulwarks. Our Captain replied that on account of our men, lying down our loss of life had been
small, and that we were fully prepared to continue the engagement. Shaking hands with Capt.
Gordon, the boat was called away, and in a few moments he was upon the deck of his own ship,
and once more heading off in the van. The fire from Bay Point and Fort Beauregard had not
apparently diminished, but we did not devote so much of our attention to those batteries, because
Fort Walker as by far the stronger work, and on this side the fire had slackened considerably, for
the reason we had knocked some of the guns out of the embrasures. As we reached for the third
time the turning point, the Mohican and several other gunboats were sent to take a raking position,
which was about seven or eight hundred yards north or nearly so from Fort Walker. We trained
our four pivot guns upon that work, and soon sent over on her side another of her guns. The
Johnnies were very confident that they could sink or drive our fleet away, for they had said God
Almighty could not take the port of Hilton’s Head, but in a few moments after taking our position,
they broke pell mell from the fort, and left coats, arms, matches, money and all their munitions of
war behind them. This ended this most brilliant naval battle of the war. Not in point of numbers
engaged, or in the amount of killed and wounded, but in the fair and square give and take order of
business, by which it was conducted. For the rebels it was entirely unexpected and its effect was
terrible. On our side the victory was gained easier than we had hoped for. Capt. Rodgers was sent
on shore from the Wabash and found the place deserted. The only prisoners captured were found
in the hospital. Fifty large cannons, together with a large amount of camp equipage, fell into our
hands. The Union loss was 8 killed 32 wounded. The Mohican had her full share in this
accounting. The rebel loss was 120 killed, and 100 wounded. Surgeon List of South Carolina was
killed in the bomb proof while performing his duties for the wounded. The shell by some means
rolled down the crooked incline, and there exploded. We were struck 28 times, our bulwarks
receiving the most of them. One shot struck into our side just even with the planking, and was not
removed while I remained in the ship, which was about a year. I could write at still greater lengths
about this affair and there are many details recollected of this engagement that both time and space
forbid. And now, asking your pardon for the long trial of your patience, I shall beg leave to close,
and at some time in the near future, will see where the old ship Mohican took us next.
I.L.
Blaisdell.
*
The specific article or comments that drew Isaac Blaisdell’s ire, and prompted the following letter
to the editor of the Santa Cruz Sentinel are not known. Only twenty-five of the local1000 Civil
War veterans had served in the navy, and their limited visibility may have caused the press to
minimize their exposure
Heroes of the Navy
(Santa Cruz Sentinel January 25, 1889)
Ed. Sentinel- we are compelled, almost, to ask the question, “Was there a naval force in the war of
the Rebellion?” This question is asked, for the simple reason that nearly all public speakers, also
comrades of the G.A.R., in reverting to those terrible days of toil and danger, forget to mention
that we of the navy had any share or part in that struggle. Therefore it will not perhaps, be deemed
amiss, if we bring forward our branch of the service, which for true grit and gallantry of action
palls before none, from the days of John Paul Jones, in the Bon Homme Richard, in her fight with
the Serapis off Scarborough Heights, England, down to the bombardment of Fort Fisher on the
Eastern coast. No prouder record exists. We are often told of the desperate charges of our
brothers in the army, but fail to hear the fact mentioned that the blue jackets at Fort Fisher made a
�charge on that fortress that will bear comparison with any made by our gallant comrades of the
infantry. I would also revert to the assault at night in open boats, upon Fort Sumter, also to those
brave lads who wend down at their guns on the Congress and Cumberland, fighting the ironclad
Merrimac, the Monitor, which sank off Cape Hatteras, the Weehawken at Fort Sumter, the
Tecumseh at Mobile, the Verona in the passage of the Fort’s Jackson and St. Phillip, and the
Mississippi at Port Hudson. The graves of those noble shipmates, amidst the waves of ocean and
Inland River, receive no decoration at the hands of former comrades. The sad requiem of the
winds of heaven sweeps mournfully above their last resting-place. Cheerfully we concede the
heroic devotion and services of our comrades who marched and fought, suffered and died for our
flag and country, and at the same time we wish to be recognized as having done our full share.
The last national [GAR] encampment placed for the first time one of our naval heroes upon its
staff and this, after an existence of twenty-two years as an association of veterans of the army and
navy. We feel proud of this late recognition although long deferred. Let us honor our dead alike,
cherish the memory of all branches of service; honor the flag we followed and the Grand Army to
which we belong. I.L. Blaisdell U.S.S. Pocahontas and Mohican.
*
While no immediate response could be found to the above complaint by Isaac of a lack of naval
appreciation shown by the community, he apparently persisted in “beating the drum and sounding
the alarm” over the years. On a lighter note in 1893 “Admiral“ Blaisdell, or an unidentified
GAR companion’s who dubbed himself “Military”, responded with a “tongue-in-cheek” to a lack
of consideration by the press. In the letter the author mulls over the situation with two army
veterans Charles Craghill, a Santa Cruz Justice of the Peace, and Constable John Copp who were
appropriately promoted for the occasion.
Army Navy Notes
(Santa Cruz Sentinel November 17, 1893)
Ed, Sentinel: There was great activity in Camp Craghill yesterday; also on board the flagship of
Admiral Blaisdell, located some three miles out of Light house point. The Admiral had come on
shore at an early hour, and by chance ran across Gen. Craghill and Col. Copp. These two
worthies, with ill concealed wrath, called the attention of the Admiral to a certain article in the
Sentinel reflecting on the trio above-mentioned. There was a rush to the General’s tent, where
vials of wrath were opened, and the cheapness of printers’ ink bitterly discussed. The Admiral
was for landing his sailors and marines a la Hawaii, in Kanak land, and for a moment it was Hanna
hanna ki-ki, Kanaka, wiki wiki, for our Admiral is one of the early voyagers to these Isles of the
Sea and can talk a little bit kanac, but to resume: Gen. Craghill and Col. Copp thought it would
look as though the land forces were not equal to a printers outfit, and therefore would not consent
to give way to the irate son of Neptune and the army, having one majority, it was ordered that the
navy be dispensed with, pending the commencement of hostilities. The Colonel, the Admiral and
the General, all laughed at the printer’s brigade, and the Colonel remarked that the most of his
fighting was done from 1861 to 1865, which was heartily concurred in. The Admiral then shifted
his quid to starboard, and hitching up his port trouser leg, said that where he was during the war
there was a notorious absence of printers who were ready to die for the flag, sink or swim, for the
land we love or even cool coffee aboard a receiving ship that never went into commission. This
provoked laughter from the General and the gallant Colonel, and both remarked, in one breath,
�that there were no ink throwers in the valiant First Division, First Corps, First Brigade, to which
they had formerly belonged, and that if there were any such they were acting as correspondents. A
General laugh then followed, and the ire of all hands having vanished to some extent, a brief
review of the situation was taken in order that the intent of the great Sentinel and the immortal
Zachy might be disseminated from the moss of buncombe surrounding the article referred to. As a
result Col. Copp was ordered to seek out the editor of said Sentinel and demand a solution of said
problem, and then report instanter at brigade headquarters...Military
*
FRATERNAL ACTIVITIES
The Grand Army of the Republic was firstly chartered as a fraternal organization. Fraternity
served as the basis for its purpose and programs. In that capacity it conducted social events,
campfires and family days along with providing the “old soldier” a place and a space to relive
past times with comrades. We are unaware of when Isaac Blaisdell first associated with the
Wallace Post in Santa Cruz, but in June of 1884 local newspapers found him actively involved in
organizing a “Campfire” (social event) for the post.
In 1885 members of the Wallace GAR post became embroiled in a controversy, which would
result in the splitting of the post. The major issue concerned the role the post would play in
hosting visiting GAR members from the San Francisco National encampment during their August
1886 visit to Santa Cruz. The more progressive members of the post, including Isaac Blaisdell,
supported a program intended to promote the community and encourage visiting “old soldiers” to
relocate in Santa Cruz. The more conservative members of the post opposed the plan that they felt
was too optimistic. Personality clashes compounded the situation and in December of 1885 Isaac
Blaisdell, and 19 similarly minded veterans, left the Wallace post, to form the J.F. Reynolds Post.
Over the years Isaac Blaisdell played the role as mediator between the two posts. In an attempt to
create a positive image on the creation of the new post, Isaac provided the following conciliatory
reason for the split:
Purpose of the New Post
(Santa Cruz Sentinel December 25, 1885)
“A Member of the G.A.R. [attributed to Blaisdell] says that the principal motive for the
organization of the new Post was for the best interest of the G.A.R., and Santa Cruz in view of the
coming of the National Encampment, as two Posts are able to accomplish more in having the
veterans come to this city than one.”
*
It was a common practice for G.A.R. posts to host events to which other posts invited. On May
Day 1888 the Dolphin Bath House at the beach was reserved for a GAR family day by the JF
Reynolds and the Dix GAR Post of San Jose was invited to attend. A special train car was to be
made up in San Jose and upon arrival to be met by local GAR members and their families. In
order generate interest and support Reynolds Post Adjutant Blaisdell sharpened his GAR military
protocol pen and posted the following invitation through the local paper.
�May Day Hosting Instructions
(Santa Cruz Sentinel April 24, 1888)
G.A.R. Attention
Headquarters; J.F. Reynolds Post 98 G.A.R.; Santa Cruz, Cal April 27, 1888
The officers and members of said post are hereby ordered to meet at their headquarters at 10
o’clock A.M. on Tuesday May 1 in uniform for the purpose of proceeding to the beach depot and
receiving the G.A.R. Comrades from San Jose. The drum Corp of this post will report at these
HQ’s at the same hour for duty. The wives and families of members are expected to join the post
at the same time with one day’s rations in their baskets. By Order A.H Kane Post Commander,
I.L. Blaisdell Adjutant.
*
This particular event had good and bad overtones. While a wonderful day was experienced by the
Old Soldiers and their families at the beach and bathhouse, a group of what was described as San
Jose “toughs’ rowdies, wild-eyed chippies suffering from the effects of too many stimulants” were
to ruffle the Victorian feathers of Isaac and his comrades.
*
In 1890 the Grand Army of the Republic had reached its high water mark, and posts were
beginning to experience a drop in membership. Those issues, which had initially caused the split
between the Wallace and Reynolds Posts in Santa Cruz, were no longer relevant, and close
personal ties had continued to be maintained between most of the members of the two posts. It
seemed only natural that the two posts should consolidate, and on October 1, 1890 the first of
several meetings were held between the two posts to examine the possibilities of reunification.
Members supporting this action were submitting letters to the editor, and Isaac Blaisdell
contributed the following poem to share another level of feeling:
Consolidation Poem
(Santa Cruz Sentinel October 7, 1891)
LET US UNITE
Let us unite, that’s the watchword
Let it echo down the line,
Not like battle cry of old,
Enwrapped in smoke of olden time
We Fear no enemy in grey,
For they are vanquished whom we fought
In long embittered battle fray
‘Twas victory then we sought.
And now our shattered ranks need closing,
For bitter is the battle of time,
And comrades we loved are reposing
In the grave, so cold and sublime
Yes, unite. Let that the watchword be,
And let it echo far and wide
For peace and unity:
�No more should we divide.
It won’t be long that we can meet
Within our loyal post,
And one by one must soon retreat
From comrades loved the most.
Grasp the hand that’s now extended,
For it may never be again,
For union and for peace untended
And from bitterness refrain.
And let us come together,
The loyal, brave and true,
And buried be forever
All troubles that we knew.
Once more around our altar’s light
Renew the vows of old,
And swing for aye the falchion bright
Of Peace, more dear than gold.
Comrade I. L. Blaisdell.
*
In November of 1891 Isaac Blaisdell, and two of his J.F. Reynolds Post comrades, volunteered to
serve as a committee to help bring about a consolidation of the Wallace and Reynolds posts. They
met with the Wallace post and it was proposed that both posts would give up their charters,
numbers, and names and join together in order to create a new post. The Wallace post agreed to
consolidate; however 18 members of the Reynolds posts opposed and subsequently blocked the
merger. Shortly afterwards Isaac along with four or five other leaders of the J.F. Reynolds Post
left and re-affiliated with the Wallace post. Blaisdell would soon be directing his correspondence
from a new home base as spokesman for the W.H.L. Wallace post.
On March 22, 1892 the Sentinel published an article entitled “On the Banks of the San
Lorenzo,” by an “old soldier” by the name of W.S. Walker. In the article Walker, a new comer to
the community, noted that he had initially been pleased at the news of a consolidation of the two
posts, but that his hopes had been dashed when the movement failed. Blaisdell, who had by now
become entrenched in the W.H.L. Wallace post, responded to Walkers concerns in a follow up
article to the Sentinel.
Letter to the Editor
(Santa Cruz Sentinel March 26, 1892)
Ed. Sentinel: - There was a large and enthusiastic meeting of W.H.L. Wallace Post, Grand Army
of the Republic, Thursday evening. Three old soldiers were mustered in and three more
applications placed on file. There are many old soldiers in this vicinity who have not as yet joined
the G.A.R. One reason is the fact that there are two posts in Santa Cruz. Many looked to a union
of the two posts. Efforts in that direction were made several months ago. A failure to unite has
caused a boom in W.H.L. Wallace Post, which post did all in its power to so unite, and acquitted
itself like fine men and did all that was asked of in the direction of unity and consolidation, but
before this could be brought before the post for action, its object was defeated in advance of a
�report from a committee appointed by J.F. Reynolds Post. The article in your widely read
columns of a recent date headed “Banks of the San Lorenzo” was a just and conservative article.
Its statements were correct, and the sentiment cannot fail to reach the heart of all those who have
been tried in the fire of battle and know the value of solid front and unit of purpose and action.
The ranks of the Grand Army are now decimated at the rate of thirty thousand a year, therefore we
should close up as we go forward in the battle of life, and for the remainder of our days live in
fraternity, charity, and loyalty. Let us fall in under one banner and with one sentiment, and show
an unbroken front in these days of old age towards our common enemy, the ravages of time. Let
all those who believe in unity and peace fall in; join those familiar spirits who realize the shortness
of our existence and the necessity of closing our shattered ranks. Soon we shall be called upon to
visit the last resting-place of our noble dead, and pay that tribute so justly due to those who gave
their lives that our nation might live, and freedom be perpetuated. We return many thanks to the
Sentinel for its kindness in placing before the public the notes of the Grand army of the Republic,
and to all old veterans we would say fall in, join the grandest association on earth and live in the
perpetuation of patriotic principles...A Veteran of the Navy.
*
AUXILIARIES
The Grand Army of the Republic felt that it was critical that a trained Corp of military volunteers
be available to support the United States during periods of military emergency as they had done in
1861. In 1866 the Civil war veteran was still in his physical prime and able to be called upon to
serve should the need arise. By the late 1870’s it was becoming apparent that age was rapidly
reducing the Civil war veterans ability to return to military ranks.
Members of the GAR saw their sons as the natural candidates to step into heir shoes. Soon camps
of Sons of Veterans were formed throughout the country modeled after GAR posts, and the young
men were trained to function as a militia. In 1886 the Sons of Veterans was recognized as an
official auxiliary of the GAR. In Isaac Blaisdell’s community of Santa Cruz California this
resulted in the creation of Sons of Veterans Lincoln Camp #10 of which Blaisdell’s son Ben was
an active member. During this same period California was in the process of developing its
National Guard program to provide necessary military support, and sons of civil war veterans
frequently became members of both organizations. During the 1890’s the California National
Guard held encampments and maneuvers at Camp Allen in Santa Cruz, and GAR members were
frequently invited to observe as honored guests. During the 1891 encampment Isaac, and other
“old soldiers”, visited and reported activities in the Lincoln Camp.
A Visit to the Camp of the Sons of Veterans of Santa Cruz
(Santa Cruz Sentinel July 25, 1891)
Ed Sentinel: - “Last Monday evening several old Grand Army vets concluded to drop in on the
youthful sons of Lincoln Camp, No. 10, Sons of Veterans, of our city. On our arrival at the hall of
said Camp, after gaining admittance, we were very much surprised to find that we had been
forestalled in our visit by some of the old boys from the camp of the National Guard, located at
Camp Allen; also, by a large delegation of Sons of Veterans from said camp, who are likewise
members of our guardsman. We found the Camp in charge of the visiting Sons, who very kindly
consented to this order for the purpose of showing our Sons of Veterans how the work is
�performed in their Camps, and the work was done in a very soldier like manner. After routine
work was finished speeches and anecdotes became the order, and every old vet was called upon to
say something, which they responded to. All the old veterans felt that the Camp, just formed of
sons of Santa Cruz, would be an honor to the organization and a credit to themselves.”
...A Veteran of the G.A.R. (I.L. Blaisdell]
*
Women’s auxiliaries would also arise in communities to support the GAR. In Santa Cruz the
Women’s Relief Corp (the official women’s auxiliary to the GAR) was supported by the Reynolds
post and was open to any woman who chose to join. The Ladies of the GAR, made up of wives
and blood relatives of union army veterans, created the Shenandoah Circle of the Ladies of the
G.A.R. and were sponsored by the Wallace post. When Isaac Blaisdell returned to the Wallace
post in 1892 he became a strong supporter of the LGAR. The lines below written by Isaac were
read Friday, April 24, 1896 at a reception given by the Ladies of the G.A.R.
Ladies of the G.A.R.
Respectfully dedicated to the Shenandoah Circle
(Santa Cruz Sentinel April 26, 1896)
In the old war days,
When bitter were the frays,
When our country made its call,
Each comrade then was young,
When to arms they quickly sprung
Whey they said farewell to all.
Chorus:
Ladies of the G.A.R.,
God bless them every one
For the splendid work they done
These Ladies of the G.A.R.
Who said: Good-bye my son;
The battle must be won.”
On that sad parting day
When the conflict had begun
In eighteen sixty-one.
When their loved ones marched away.
Who said to us good-bye
When the fight was drawing nigh;
When treason raised the bar:
When bravely fought the blue
With courage good and true,
But the Ladies of the G.A.R.?
�Who nursed us back to life
When weary with the strife,
When the boys came marching home;
Who prayed before the throne
For these soldiers, all their own,
but the Ladies of the G.A.R.?
Whose hearts in grief were burned
For him that na’er returned
At the closing of the cruel war;
Whose prayers will never cease
Till we gain the realms of peace,
But the Ladies of the G.A.R.?
Long may these ladies live
To comfort and to give
us pleasure, as we journey afar;
And when we come to die,
Sweet will be the last good-bye
From the ladies of the G.A.R.
And when we meet above
In eternal peace and love,
Beyond where the gates stand ajar
In that land they will enfold
Their soldier boys of old
In the Circle of the G.A.R.
I.L. Blaisdell
**
�PENSIONS, BURIALS and OTHER CHARITABLE ISSUES
Charity, the second major function of the GAR, was the most important issue to the returning
soldier in 1865 because of their desire for preferential employment, bounty equalization and
widow and orphan support advocacy. In 1865 few, social “safety nets” were available to catch
the returning veteran when he fell unto financial, physical and mental hard times. The GAR
attempted to fill these voids by providing local support while lobbying for major concessions at
the national level. The physical and financial outreach by the Old Soldier to his needy comrades
provided the Grand Army considerable visibility within the community.
Isaac Blaisdell, in reporting the activities of a Wallace Post meeting in 1892 shares an insight as
to the attitude of one dedicated group with in the order.
CHARITABLE ASPECTS OF THE GAR
Wallace Post Notes
(Santa Cruz Sentinel May 14, 1892)
“Silk hat soldiers are scarce, and the vim of comradeship prevails always among those who stood
shoulder to shoulder on the battlefield and on river and bay. The work of the Grand Army is to
preserve the memories of that bitter struggle, and to assist those who may be found needing
assistance. Let us be ever ready to take a comrade by the hand and help him up and encourage
him to fight the battle of existence in his declining years. Let us practice more of the charity we
profess and less of profession.”...Veteran G.A.R.
*
PENSION PROGRAM
Following the Civil war only minimal financial support was provided by the government to the
veterans, and was only available to those veterans who had been seriously wounded during the
war. As the veteran grew older, they began appealing for federal assistance for physical ailments
accentuated by injuries incurred during the war. During the last quarter of the 19th century a
major objective of the Grand Army of the Republic was to obtain support for every veteran that
required it. As the GAR gained political power they were able to bring about the most massive
veteran pension program in US History. This pension program, which was to consume one fifth of
the national budget, naturally drew criticism, especially when abuses occurred. Newspaper
articles and letters frequently attacked the pension program and it is probable that Isaac was
responding to one of these. While the casualty figures used by Blaisdell’s figures are highly
inflated the intent of his letter is not
Response to Pension Critics
(Santa Cruz Sentinel December 17, 1893)
At the Front 1861-1865
Ed, Sentinel: - The boys in blue enlisted, and went to the front during the time mentioned, to the
number of more than two millions. They took their lives in their hands and bidding their dear ones
good-bye, were off for the seat of war. Fully 125,000 of these men fell dead on the field of battle.
�Some 500,000 were wounded, and 360,000 died from disease incident to the hardships endured.
What a fearful picture 485,000 killed and dead of disease, and 500,000 wounded and crippled! A
total of 985,000 men on the side of loss by death, disease and wounds. There were fought over
2,000 battles and skirmishes, some of which were the bloodiest record in the page of history.
There were also 125,000 men in the navy during the war, and among whom there is a fearful death
roll to be added to that of the army, and yet we hear a cry go up from those who never paid one
dollar towards the pension roll, or served one day in defense of our flag and country, about the
immense amount of money paid to pensioners, the survivors of this terrible conflict. You don’t
hear from this source the amount paid to the bondholder, to wit the enormous sum of
$4,446,000,000 in principal, interest and premiums. This enormous amount of money would
never have been paid, and the bonds would not have been worth the paper they were written on,
were it not for the men of the musket. Yet we hear these veterans spoken of as “coffee coolers”
and “bummers,” men who faced death on battlefields, and in every combat upon river, bay and
sea. Surely the howlers have but little conception of the sacrifices made and the sufferings endued
by the army of the nation’s defenders. Where does the money go that is paid the pensioners?
Every dollar is due some merchant or landholder before it is received. It is not hoarded like
money paid the bondholder, but put in circulation and paid to those among us, to whom it is due.
Where is the man among these howlers who pays one dollar towards the pension of a single
veteran? True enough is the charge that some veterans are drawing pensions who are not entitled
thereto, but where is the organization, order or creed that has not some fraud or hypocrite? Surely
you would not punish the deserving many in order that the few might be reached.
Let me say in conclusion, that it was no picnic, this fighting one million and a half of the bravest
men on earth, who fought on their own grounds, believing that they were right. The men, who
fought to the bitter end and finally surrendered at Appomattox, have more respect for the men in
blue than the pension howlers, who had not enough courage or principle to fight on either side.
The great mass of worthy pensioners would gladly exchange their humble pittance for the good
health and sound limbs left behind in those days of cruel war. Thank God, the ungrateful beings
are few and far between, and are though of as they deserve. Let us rest in peace, and disturb us
not, those who were faint of heart and weak in patriotism in the days of 1861-1865 ..................A
Veteran Reader (Blaisdell)
*
By 1900 most soldiers who were honorably discharged from the army and navy during the Civil
War, or their widows, were receiving pensions which would usually vary between $8-$20 per
month. They would gather at the County Clerks office where the clerk or volunteers would assist
them in filling out the voucher required for payment. Isaac Blaisdell reflects on this in the
following:
Local Pension Payments
(Santa Cruz Sentinel September 6, 1901)
County Clerk Miller
Ed. “Sentinel”-- In your popular journal I wish to state that in behalf of the old soldiers and
sailors that they appreciate very much the kindness of County Clerk Miller in opening, at an early
hour, his office for the benefit of pensioners. There were more than the regular force of clerks in
attendance, and the vouchers were made out with a speed never before witnessed. We shall be
sorry, however, according to a recent issue of the “Sentinel,” to miss his genial face or that of his
�successor, forty years hence, as none of the present generation will be alive at that time except the
old soldier. William J. Bryan is credited with saying in 1892 that the remarkable longevity of
those people [the old soldier] is something wonderful, who are standing up the Government in the
pension business as long as the stars and stripes shall wave over our country. Just so long will
there be soldiers, aye and sailors, too. When there shall be no more of these remarkably long lived
people who carried our flag to victory, then we shall have no flag, no country. At one time in the
history of our land they did not live long enough and no one envied him or sighed for the weary
march and bloody fields, where tens of thousands filled the long trenches or sank beneath river
and bays. Long may the old soldier and sailor live to enjoy somewhat of the comforts of life for
which they suffered and died. With many thanks to our genial and accommodating County Clerk
and his able assistants. I am, very truly yours....Naval Veteran.
*
PATRIOTISM
COMMUNITY PATRIOTIC ACTIVITIES
During the 1890’s the major thrust of the Grand Army of the Republic shifted towards patriotism
and instilling a patriotic zeal within the youth of the nation before they were passed the scene.
Within the public schools the GAR used their influence to have history added reading, writing and
arithmetic as compulsory subjects. They insisted that flags be in every school and that the flag
salute be a part of the opening of every days activities. In New York they instituted ROTC in the
high schools, and introduced the practice of standing during the playing of the national anthem
and at the passing by of the flag. Between the 1890’s and the 1930’s the local GAR posts would
visit schools during Lincoln’s birthday events to share their experiences and to enjoy the
programs prepared by students. Isaac Blaisdell shared the patriotic feelings of his comrades in
his below letter:
Editorial
(Santa Cruz Sentinel May 14, 1895)
Ed. Sentinel: - Having seen a kindly reference in your columns a few days ago to Memorial Day, I
beg a space in your widely read journal. It is true that the veterans are dying out, and that the
ranks are thinning faster as the years roll on, but the memory of the dead heroes is growing, it
would seem, by the general revival of interest in the services that are to be held on the 30th of this
month. In the City of New York 10,000 school children, trained in military movements, will fall
in behind the old veterans, most of whom are now grey with age and worn with the journey of life.
In the city of Oakland thousands of school children will line the sidewalks while the old boys
march in review before them. These young children will some day perhaps fill the places, once
filled by these warriors whose strength has failed, but whose glory will live forever.
We know from what we have heard that there is no official in the city of Santa Cruz opposed to
this patriotic lesson to our children, although there have been whispering to that effect. I feel that
this coming Memorial Day will overshadow that of any previous occasion, in the observance of
the day Santa Cruz lacks not in patriotism, lacks not for the flag and those who fell in its defense.
Let us scatter our bright flowers where they rest, beneath the folds of the grand old flag, for which
they fought and fell...A Naval Veteran (Blaisdell)
*
�The American flag gained a new level of patriotic importance through the efforts of the Grand
Army of the Republic and was the major lobbying group sponsoring legislation to create Flag Day
as a national holiday. Local posts would frequently sponsor picnics and encourage student
participation. Flags also served as the central symbol at veteran funerals. In 1894 Blaisdell used
a local GAR funeral to express the feelings that veterans felt toward the flag.
The Old Flag
(Santa Cruz Sentinel March 17, 1894)
Ed. Sentinel- At a funeral a few days ago of an old veteran [James W Crawford] by the G.A.R., it
became necessary as a part of the ceremony, to unfurl the stars and stripes, and let the folds of the
glorious banner lie across the bier of one who had given three years of his life to preserve the
honor of the flag. When the splendid emblem was slowly unfurled and the loved combination of
red, white and blue appeared in a blaze of beauty, a hush of almost unreal solemnity came over the
assemblage. Every heartbeat with patriotic enthusiasm and tears sprang to many eyes. No loyal
man can look at the old flag without emotion. Our flag is a splendid banner. We cannot be
blamed for feeling that it is the most beautiful in the world, and Drake’s magnificent lines well
describe it.
When freedom from her mountain height Unfurl’d her standard to the air,
She tore the azure robe of night, and set the stars of glory there!
She mingled with its gorgeous dyes the milky baldric of the skies,
And striped it pure celestial white with streakings of the morning light.
.... Veteran (Blaisdell)
*
In addition to Flag Day the GAR could usually be found participating in Independence Day
activities. Following within such a short period of a hectic Memorial Day schedule, July 4th
participation by the GAR was usually more subdued. Grand Army posts could usually be counted
on to provide a marching contingent in local parades, and during picnics at the park Civil war
veterans frequently served as key speakers. Ignoring the 4th was unthinkable, and fearing that
July 4th 1892 would not be properly observed in the community Isaac wrote:
Observe the 4th
(Santa Cruz Sentinel June 28, 1892)
Ed Sentinel: In your valuable paper I have not seen anything relevant to the proper observance of
the Fourth of July. A committee has been appointed by both of the Grand Army Posts and Sons of
Veterans who would be pleased to meet a committee of citizens with the object of celebrating the
anniversary of our nation’s independence. Let us evince a proper show of patriotism that will
show that we still live and love the flag and country for which our forefathers fought and
suffered...Member G.A.R.
*
BLUE AND GRAY RELATIONS
Following the Civil war there a feeling of animosity existed between many Union and Confederate
veterans. When President Grover Cleveland proposed returning captured battle flags to their
�former Confederate states the GAR put on full battle gear and had the proposal rescinded. Other
controversies involving the payment of Mexican war pensions to former Confederate soldiers,
school history books interpretations etc. would periodically arise and the Grand Army would
react in force. As the years passed so did the animosities, and veterans of both sides began to
move toward a common appreciation of the role of the other in the Civil war. The Spanish
American war of 1898 acted as the catalyst toward healing the sectional wounds, and the two
former adversaries became Old Soldiers who had participated in the American epic event. A
sense of this gradual reunion is reflected in Isaac Blaisdell’s letters.
In April of 1888 the former Confederate General Joseph E. Johnston was reputed to have sought
admission into the E.D. Baker post of the GAR in Philadelphia. Accompanying the application
form was a letter, which stated:
“For the purpose of enabling me to participate in the noble work of charity performed by
comrades of the Grand Army of the Republic, I hereby make application for contributory
membership in your post. Enclosed please find the sum of $10 for one year’s dues.”
When the question was put, the entire 200 members present voted unanimously to accept his
application. When this article appeared in the Santa Cruz Sentinel a feisty Isaac Blaisdell was
quick to respond.
Explaining Gen Johnston & the GAR
(Santa Cruz Sentinel May 1, 1888)
A Grand Army Explanation
Ed. Sentinel: - Having read in a recent issue of the Sentinel, and in the Call of San Francisco, an
article on the election of Gen. Joseph E. Johnston as a member of the G.A.R., I beg leave to say in
regard to the matter that Gen. Jos. E. Johnston is not, nor can he be, a member of the G.A.R. in the
sense that a Union veteran can be. In the first place none who has ever borne arms against the
Government can so join. Even those who were pressed into the Confederate service and
afterwards enlisted in the Union ranks can never become a member of this loyal army of blue.
There are those in our midst who would gladly enter this circle of patriots if not barred out by
previous service in the ranks of the Confederacy. Gen. Joseph E. Johnston is merely granted the
privilege of contributory membership, in order that he can help the Grand Army of the Republic in
its noble deeds of charity, and until the corner stone of this organization has been taken from the
structure none bearing the stain of treason can be a member in its truest sense. Were this true the
Grand Army of the Republic would be a fraud and its loyalty a farce. We can forgive, but we
must be true, and until this Grand Army of the Republic shall have changed its constitution this
cannot be. I.L. B [Isaac L. Blaisdell] Santa Cruz April 30th.
*
Over the years the members of the Grand Army of the Republic came to feel that the veterans of
the Civil war had shared a unique experience never to be repeated. By the time of Spanish
American war the Southern veteran had organized himself into the United Confederate Veterans
and drew much from the GAR in developing its organizational model. Confederate soldiers would
usually join with their “Yankee” counterparts at local patriotic and social activities and many
GAR posts would include them in their “campfires” and other post activities. Isaac Blaisdell later
letter reflects this changing attitude.
�*
Blue and Gray
(Santa Cruz Sentinel May 10, 1899)
Ed. “Sentinel” - Knowing that your very interesting and widely read and interesting journal is
always ready to accord space for articles of interest to the general public, I beg leave for space
wherein I may express a few thoughts in connection with the above subject. The thirtieth of May
next marks an important circumstance. At Vicksburg recently, where the ex-confederates
decorated the graves of their honored dead, a regular U.S. Infantry band headed the procession,
which was made up of the Blue and Gray. It was an all inspiring sight, a spectacle lesson of
comradeship, and a loyalty to flag and country. The broad stripes and bright stars, which drooped
gracefully and tenderly around the staff, expressed a touching sentiment of love and loyalty. Since
the war with Spain the sons of the bright Southland have demonstrated by their valor and devotion
their patriotism to flag and country, side-by-side, shoulder-to-shoulder, led by gallant Wheeler and
other valiant old warriors. The gallant sons of the sunny South vied with their northern comrades
in deeds of bravery and under the bright flag of our united country charged home on the foe at El
Caney, La Guasima and San Juan.
Their blood dyed the hills and dales of Cuba Libre, and the trench and grave received the cold
forms of our brave comrades. Therefore, when we go forth to honor the loyal dead let us recollect
that all are now comrades. Let there be a mingling of the Blue and Gray, hand in hand, hearts full
of love and sympathy, each for the other, and let flowers be scattered with a deeper feeling, and let
all hearts be raised heavenward, that truly it can be said, one flag, one country and a united people.
Bring not arms but wreaths and roses, fresh with the morning dew: Place them with our brave
reposes over the Gray and Blue..........I.L. Blaisdell.
**
MEMORIAL DAY
Memorial Day was the signature event of the Grand Army of the Republic. On that day the “old
soldier” was on center stage and the community could not seem to do enough for him. In 1868 the
GAR was looking for an event, which could properly represent them in centering attention on the
sacrifice of the departed Union soldier. On May 5, 1868 General John Logan, than Commander
in Chief of the Grand Army of the Republic issued his famous General Order #11 to GAR posts,
which resulted in the establishment of Memorial Day. May 30th was selected as the day of the
event as it was felt that was when the most flowers would be in bloom through out the country.
While its initial purpose was to acknowledged those soldiers and sailors who had lost their lives
during the Civil War, it would be expanded to include all veterans who had departed. From 1884
until 1902 Isaac Blaisdell, the voice of the veteran in Santa Cruz, would contribute a new poem
each year, which was frequently accompanied by a letter, honoring his departed comrades on
Memorial Day.
In May of 1884 Isaac Blaisdell’s first letter reminding the public of their Memorial Day
responsibilities appeared
�Letter to Editor “Memorial Day”
(Santa Cruz Sentinel April 24, 1884)
Ed, Sentinel: Memorial Day will soon be here, and the thoughts of our comrades of the long ago
come crowding upon us. We are led to look towards their last resting places, and the day on
which we shall proceed once more to those cities of the dead where lie those who followed our
starry flag when all was dark and the nation in peril. Peacefully they rest, and although our ranks
are constantly being decimated, those who are from year to year spared by the hand of time will,
with closed ranks, repair to the resting-place of our dead heroes with undiminished spirit. From
north to south, from east to west, will gather the remnants of the brigade and fleet to place our dear
old flag upon those graves where those, who gave their lives that our nation might be perpetuated,
rest. Sweet flowers of spring will then be scattered by loving, tender hands above them. Would
that all could be so decorated. Many patriots sleep in unknown graves, and many a gallant soul
rests beneath the sea and inland river, that once battled for freedom, and whose last resting place
remains unmarked. Let us hope that no duty of ours in these days of peace and prosperity will be
left undone to commemorate the services of our noble dead. I.L.B
*
While an amicable relationship continued to exist between the two competing GAR posts after
their split in December 1885, they would frequently conduct separate activities during the early
years of the split. On Memorial Day I886 Members of the Wallace Post met at the Methodist
church for a memorial service and then proceeded to Evergreen Cemetery in Santa Cruz in order
to conduct the traditional GAR service. Isaac Blaisdell and the Reynolds post met at the
Congregational church and then proceeded to the IOOF Cemetery in order to decorate the graves
of veterans buried there. For the occasion Blaisdell submitted his first Memorial Day poem to the
Sentinel
ODE FOR MEMORIAL DAY
(Santa Cruz Sentinel, June 1, 1886)
Memorial Day! Memorial Day! reaches back from sea to sea,
While freemen join throughout our land, and homage pay to thee,
Who in the earliest trump of war left home and fireside,
To fight for country and its flag, whatever should betide.
With steady tramp and muffled drum we bring thee flowers,
And place upon thy grave that dear old flag we love,
for thee no bugle calls or threatening storm cloud lowers;
The dawn of peace has come, and thou are gone above.
Once more we gather, with ranks that are fading,
To scatter bright tokens o’er our comrades who lay
In the churchyard secure from Death and his raiding,
‘Till the last tramp shall sound at the closing of day.
Our ranks are more broken at the close of each year;
Still our flag from the ramparts is flying.
�“Close up, boys! close up!” is the cry that we hear,
And we know, one by one, that our comrades are dying.
Fond hearts and willing hands sweet flowers will bring,
With steady tramp, and flag, and muffled drum.
Fair maidens, too, will gather there to sing
The praise of God, who bids the soldier come.
May God remember the widows and the orphan child,
As time with ceaseless wing move on with rushing tide,
And the rude blasts of winter make like, summer mild,
Until we’re called to him as well, where no rude storms abide.
I.L. Blaisdell
The GAR considered Memorial Day the most revered of the public holidays and was to be used for
memorial purposes only. Woe to the business that remained open or to the individual who used
the day for recreational purposes; this included the President of the United States. It has been
suggested that the outcry made by the GAR against Grover Cleveland for his having gone fishing
on Memorial Day helped to defeat him in the election of 1888. Isaac expressed the appreciation
of the “old soldier” for a business, which chose to honor Memorial Day by closing.
Memorial Day
(Santa Cruz Sentinel May 27, 1892)
Ed. Sentinel: “In your valuable paper of Thursday morning I read the announcement of A.C.
Snyder stating that he would not open his store on Decoration Day. All honor to him for this
acknowledgment of respect and patriotism and love for the day on which our nation, as well as
ourselves, go forth to honor our noble dead and the memories of their services for the land they
loved. We feel assured that many others of our business houses will close on that occasion, at
least while our services are being conducted, for we can recollect the date in Santa Cruz when the
day was not observed, but on the solicitation of the members of the Grand Army of the Republic
our citizens and businessmen generally closed up on that occasion and have always contributed
cheerfully toward the expenses that have to be incurred. Let us one and all honor the flag for
which our comrades died, and go forth with the nation on that day so sacred to the memories of
our noble dead.”
Memorial Day
(Santa Cruz Sentinel May 29, 1892)
Memorial Day. Once more the time arrives
On which the soldier loves to show
That love for comrades gone survives
All wreck and ruin here below.
A nation honors them today- our dead
Who fell on Southern hill and plain;
O’er them let flowers pure be spread,
�And sing a peaceful, sad refrain.
Calm and peaceful, ‘neath the sunshine far and wide,
We are drifting, slowly drifting on the tide
Towards our final camp-ground of eternity,
Where our comrades beck from the golden sea.
Soldiers, know ye of that sea or shore
Where we meet together, there to meet no more?
Yes, the angels answer, no matter what betide,
You shall meet and march together on the other side.
But there’ll be no clink of spur or sabre,
No arduous marching, charge of bayonet nor labor;
But on a peaceful march calm and slow,
We’ll be drifting, ever drifting where the roses blow.
They have gone, those comrades, to their rest,
Home to God to forever blest;
While each year our ranks are sadly thinning,
Death its victims claiming, ever surely winning.
The let our country’s flag be carried there,
Its starry folds float proudly on the air,
And let the music, that of old we used to hear,
Break forth once more in gladness on the ear.
Now a yearning stirs the heart with strongest pain,
That we might meet our comrades once again,
For there is no returning. Never yet has any sail
Her white wings spread at dawning before the gale.
Then on their graves spread nature’s purest flowers,
In honor unto all brave patriots of ours;
And as the cycling years shall come and go,
We shall meet them by and by whilst drifting to and fro.
All honor then to soldier and sailor brave,
Who sleep beneath the earth or ocean wave;
Nobly they fought and nobly there they fell
For our land and starry flag they loved so well.
So gather we the old, the young and fair,
To honor and to scatter flowers where
Our patriots calmly and sweetly sleep;
Where the south winds blow, where the violets peep.
�Each year we come, but ‘tis with shattered ranks,
Returning unto God our warmest, grateful thanks
For mercies unmerited, but kindly shown
From heaven’s highest, purest throne.
So farewell, comrades, who sleep beneath the sod,
Your bodies rest below, your souls have gone to God.
We hope to meet you in that eternal sphere,
As one by one are called and taken year by year.
We realize full well there is no rest below,
The sad, wild winds they do but whisper no.
There is no rest to mortals ever given
Except of God, in peaceful, quiet heaven.
I.L. Blaisdell
W.H.L. Wallace Post G.A.R.
*
Over the years standard programs would evolve out of the simple ritual, which the GAR
performed at appointed cemeteries on Memorial Day. The GAR comrades began adding
politicians, orators to the program; however a favorite aspect continued to be the children. Isaac
Blaisdell joined a team of other Wallace-Reynolds Post members in participating in one such
event in 1895, which he describes below
Memorial Day at Holy Cross(Santa Cruz Sentinel June 5, 1895)
At the Catholic Cemetery
There was a goodly company at the Catholic Cemetery on Memorial Day. Senator Bart Burke
was to have delivered the oration, but unavoidable circumstances made his presence impossible,
but he was fortunate in procuring the services of W.A. McGuire. On reaching the cemetery we
found Miss Humphrey, of Live Oak School, with her scholars in waiting, also many of those
residing in the vicinity. The children had brought a wealth of flowers, and under the guidance of
Comrade John Delahanty, followed by the comrades, children carrying flowers, and friends, the
column took up its march to the graves where our heroes are sleeping. The children decked each
lowly mound with fresh blossoms. After this loving tribute was finished the column wended its
way to the front of the cemetery, where the oration was delivered under the shade of the trees.
Here W.A. McGuire made a stirring and very appropriate address after which a poem was read by
Comrade Blaisdell. The children than sang very sweetly several selections, one of which was
“The Union Starry Banner, Boys,” which was very affecting and in harmony with the ceremonies.
After this Senior Vice Commander E. Pendleton thanked the school and Miss Humphrey and all
present for their attendance and efforts in making the services so pleasant and effective.
This occasion will long be remembered by those comrades who stood under the shade and
listened to those young voices. It carried them back more than a quarter of a century to those days
when the tempest of war was about to break forth. These young boys I though may one day hold
aloft the starry flag of which today they sing. God bless the lessons of the day and these young
�loyal hearts!
An Old Comrade (Blaisdell)
Below is the poem, which Comrade Blaisdell read on that Memorial Day in 1895
Memorial Day
(Santa Cruz Sentinel May 25, 1895)
All hail the grandest day on earth,
Wars’ sacrifices gave it birth;
And so our nation rightly said,
This day we honor our noble dead.
Their souls have journeyed unto God;
Here rest their bodies ‘neath the sod.
And so we gather on this Memorial Day
To honor them in a loyal way.
In the days of eighteen sixty one,
When the martyr Lincoln called upon
These comrades that were true,
These loyal hearts left hearth and home
To wear a suit of blue.
They fought along Potomac’s shore,
Their sabres flashed through Shenandoah,
At Shiloh, Vicksburg, and Mobile
Shot answered shot, steel met with steel,
They gave their lives on land and sea,
Preserved our flag and liberty.
The sweet south wind now gently blows
The where we met our southern foes,
And where the battle’s cup we quaffed
Now rise the headstone and the shaft.
The where our heroes fell,
The young, the fair, the bent and old
Revere and love this sacred mould;
Then place sweet flowers where they rest,
A victor’s wreath above each breast.
Yon starry flag, athwart the sky,
Shall beam transcendent in the eye
As long as time shall move,
Take freedom for your battle cry,
And love for country prove.
That dear old flag with strip and star,
Makes glad the loyal eye,
None shall they brilliant lustre mar,
nor take thy place in Freedom’s sky.
Thy deeds forever more we sing
And will until our fleeting breath
�Shall yield itself to thee, oh, death.
Comrades, citizens, children, and friends,
Not many years will dawn
Before the last Grand Army man
Will be mustered out and gone.
And as the cycling years go by,
our numbers will grow less,
And the generations yet to come
This sacred day will bless.
And while these loyal hearts shall beat,
And time for them shall be,
Their graves will echo to the feet
Of loyal sons of liberty.
I.L. Blaisdell
*
The 1901 Memorial Day in Santa Cruz took on a new addition, which was to be copied by other
communities along the Pacific coast; the honoring of departed sailors with a special seaside
ceremony. Newspaper releases of the day indicate that Isaac Blaisdell working with the Women’s
Relief Corp of the GAR was instrumental in bringing about this special service. Following the
traditional Memorial Day services at Evergreen Cemetery the community would gather on the
Railroad wharf in Santa Cruz. A GAR ceremony for the dead would take place with the Naval
Reserve firing a salute. Wreathes of flowers would than be cast in the sea to honor officers and
sailors who had perished at sea during the Civil war. This tradition would continue into the
1960’s.
Memorial Day
(Santa Cruz Sentinel May 30, 1901)
Columbia, our republic, grand
All o’er thy fair and favored land,
This thirtieth day of May,
Around thy honored dead will stand
A host on Memorial Day.
With colors draped in mourning
Each column will be led,
And the muffled drum give warning
That we honor now our dead.
Memorial Day is a day of tears,
For loved ones will meet at the shrine,
With a love and affection not broken by years
And a hope for reunion, that seemeth divine.
Stooped are the forms, and grey the head
Of the comrades who march today,
Who wearily march and slowly tread
To the spot where our heroes lie.
�No East, no West, no South, no North
From lake to gulf, from sea to sea,
All sections, now loyal. As one they go forth
To honor the brave ‘neath the flag of the free,
Then gather garlands, sweet and fair,
To place above each breast.
While fragrant roses scent the air
Above their peaceful rest,
All hail the day when war shall cease
Her dread alarms be heard
Until we gain the realms of peace
No heart in grief be stirred.
Shoulder to shoulder the blue and the grey
On the march, are comrades together,
To honor alike Memorial Day
In joy, and peace, forever.
Then let us look to Him alone
That rules the earth and sea,
And from His everlasting throne
Rules o’er our destiny.
When the last march is over
And all comrades shall be dead,
May we hear sweet words of welcome
When the roll call shall be read.
When the pearly gates are opened,
And the splendor we behold
Shall spread its lustre o’er us,
On each comrade, true of old,
We shall sing eternal praises
In the land so far away
And shall bivouac together
In one long eternal day.
I.L. Blaisdell Naval Veteran
*
OLD SOLDIERS CROSS THE RIVER
The Grand Army of the Republic was determined that every soldier who had worn the “blue”
uniform should be given a proper military funeral and that none should ever be subjected to a
paupers grave. In December of 1884 the Grand Army in Santa Cruz acquired a plot of land from
the Evergreen Cemetery Committee in order to bury needy veterans. Over the next twenty years
approximately 30 needy and indigent Old Soldiers were interred in the plot and other locations by
the local GAR posts.
*
In February 1892 Franklin W. Dow a native of Maine who had come to California during the gold
�rush died. Dow had joined a California regiment during the Civil war, and returned to Santa
Cruz where he worked as a laborer and stable hand. Early in 1892, lacking funds, he was
admitted to the county hospital where he died of pneumonia. The two GAR posts got together to
bury Dow with Blaisdell providing the literary commentary.
Letter to the Editor
(Santa Cruz Sentinel March 2, 1892)
Ed. Sentinel- the old soldiers are fast passing away, and each year, day and week some of these
patriots who volunteered in the service of his country are called home to answer to roll call, before
the Supreme Commander, before the great white throne. Sunday the remains of F.W. Dow were
laid to rest under the auspices of W.H.L. Wallace Post, assisted by loving comrades from J.F.
Reynolds Post No. 98
Deceased was a member of a California regiment during the late war and was honorably
discharged therefrom.
Many comrades fell into line as the funeral cortege filed away, under escort of a squad of Sons of
Veterans from Lincoln Camp, No. 10 of this city, and a portion of the drum corps. Many of us
were carried back to days long gone as the fife struck up the funeral march, accompanied by the
drum corps. We recollected the long trenches filled with our noble dead, or the dear shipmate who
as sliding off a grating into the deep blue sea. And so the cortege took its way over the hill to the
cemetery of W.H.L. Wallace Post, where these comrades of the late war performed the last acts of
kindness for the departed. Commander M.S. Patterson, of W.H.L. Wallace Post, presided over the
fitting ceremonies of the hour, while the Chaplain, in the language of the ritual, paid a just tribute
to our dead. After this, appropriate hymns were sung by women of the Shenandoah Circle, ladies
of the G.A.R., after which a firing party composed of members of W.H.L. Wallace and J.F.
Reynolds Post proceeded to fire the salute for the dead. Taken all together this scene was most
appropriate, and was conducted in a spirit of Fraternity, Charity and Loyalty. Many Thanks are
returned for the carriages furnished from the Lincoln Stables for the fragrant flowers contributed
for the occasion...The Army and Navy. [Attributed to Isaac Blaisdell]
*
Isaac Blaisdell would also use poetry to honor fallen comrades. Shortly after Isaac rejoined the
Wallace Post, John C. Toll a post member died and was eulogized in the following poem.
Mustered Out
(Santa Cruz Sentinel, April 19, 1892)
One more comrade stricken from the roll,
Brave patriot and soldier, J.C. Toll;
One more taken from life’s fitful dreamGone to the bivouac across the dark stream
The last march is over and life’s battle won,
Earth’s campaign is over, the new life begun;
No answer at roll call or sharp reveille,
A soul has been taken, a spirit set free.
�No more shall we meet our loved comrade here,
To his virtues and memory let all drop a tear;
let’s follow the patrol on his way to the tomb,
‘Neath the clean shave mead, where violets bloom.
To the post room our comrade comes no more,
Passed on to muster beyond that silent shore.
So gather once more, let us mingle with those,
Who follow the patriot to his last long repose.
Let us mingle our tears with those who will mourn
For the loss of a loved one from this side torn.
Let the flag of our country be placed on his bier,
For that proud, starry emblem he ever held dear.
Fall in once more, tis the last sad farewell
For our comrade, now gone, Toll the funeral bell.
Salute our noble dead as in the days of yore;
We shall meet him bye-and-bye on the other shore.
I.L. Blaisdell
Each year a delegation of G.A.R. members were sent to Evergreen Cemetery to prepare the Grand
Army plot for Memorial Day services. Finding the cemetery in need of attention prompted the
following letter to the Editor
Evergreen GAR Cemetery
(Santa Cruz Sentinel May 29, 1894)
Having been detailed to visit Evergreen for the purpose of locating graves of soldiers in that city
of the dead, I found it no easy manner to locate them, and could not have done so but for the
kindness of Mr. Standcliffe, Sexton. It was not pleasant to contemplate, at least not to me, the
picture spread out to view. Neglect and want of care were evident on every hand. The wild
nettles, grass, blackberry bushes, and other evidences of decay were too plainly visible, and a
feeling of gloom and sadness came over me as I wandered amidst the receptacle of our departed
loved ones. Forgotten seemed to stare me in the face. Could not some interest be shown and
some of these lots cleared up before Decoration Day? The G.A.R. cemetery will be put in order: a
new flag pole has been placed there, and the twelve graves found outside the G.A.R. Cemetery
will be cleared off and marked with flags. Let us hope that some care will be bestowed in that
direction for the sake of the departed and for the satisfaction found in such labor. I.L.B. (Isaac L
Blaisdell)
***
In reporting the Memorial Day activities for 1902, the Sentinel included the notation: “After the
following original poem by I.L. Blaisdell, flowers were scattered upon the waves.” This was to be
�Isaac Blaisdell’s final poem for the Sentinel.
Sailors Memorial
(Santa Cruz Sentinel June 1, 1902)
Sweet is the memory of our sailor dead,
We honor their deeds today,
Who fought in the van, where Farragut led,
Who sleep beneath river and bay.
Their deeds are marked on history’s pages,
And ever there shall shine,
Down through all future coming ages,
Stand, heroic deeds of thine.
Peacefully our heroes sleep,
Who manned our ships of war,
Their everlasting tomb the deep,
There rest forever more.
No tender hearts nor loving hands
May linger by thy side,
The ocean wave and drifting sands,
Thy resting place shall hide.
Far beneath the sun-kissed wave
Forever they shall rest,
They were the bravest of the brave,
True to the flag each loyal breast.
Calm and peaceful by thy dream,
Thy rest shall break no more,
No call to arms, on bay and stream,
As in the days of war.
Full many a mossy hulk lies deep
Beneath the sea and river,
Where our heroes calmly sleep,
The waves now gleam and quiver.
Full well we know the resting place
Beneath the throbbing sea,
No monument that spot will grace,
Where e’er thy rest may be.
No loved ones gather there at eve,
But many a silent prayer
To heaven will rise from hearts that grieve,
And float upon the air.
Then cast upon the ocean tide
The laurel wreath and rose,
That winds may waft them far and wide,
Above their last repose.
�We shall meet our sailor boys
When life’s voyage is o’er,
And share with them the heavenly joys
Of peace forever more.
*
Death of I.L. Blaisdell
(Santa Cruz Sentinel Dec 25, 1902)
On Wednesday morning Isaac L. Blaisdell died at his home on Ocean St. after a month's illness.
For a quarter of a century the deceased had resided in Santa Cruz. The deceased had a war
record to be proud of for he was in several of the most important naval engagements. He took
pleasure in raising the flag on the Lower Plaza on holidays. He frequently wrote prose and poetry
for the "Sentinel". Mr. Blaisdell was always pleased with the title of Naval Veteran which was
attached to most of the articles which he wrote. Everything that was connected with the navy had
his keenest interest. He was a good citizen, kindly natured, and always did his duty in whatever
position he was placed.
The funeral of deceased will take place from his late residence 450 Ocean St. at 2 P.M. tomorrow
(Friday).
Friends and acquaintances of the deceased are invited to be present.
***
THE END
�LIFE AT THE SOLDIERS HOME
The Collected Letters and Poems of
CALEB TODD
CALEB J. TODD
(1848-1931)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Caleb Todd was a talented, prolific writer within the local Civil War veteran community who
shared his gifts in both prose and poetry with the greater Santa Cruz society. His parents were
born in Indiana, however prior to Caleb’s birth in November 1848, they had relocated to Iowa
where he was born. On Feb 2, 1865, shortly after his eighteenth birthday, Caleb enlisted in
Company B of the 155th Illinois Infantry at New Liberty Illinois. His regiment was organized at
Camp Butler, Illinois on February 28, 1865, and was mustered into federal service for a period of
one year. On March 2, 1865 the 155th Illinois moved through Louisville, Kentucky and Nashville
to Tullahoma, Tennessee where they were stationed. The regiment was then divided into
detachments charged with guarding various locations of the Nashville & Chattanooga Railroad. As
part of his assignment, Caleb and his company occupied blockhouses in the fifty-mile area
between Nashville and the Duck River in Tennessee. They continued to serve as railroad guards
in the Nashville area until September 4, 1865 when they were mustered out of federal service and
returned to Camp Butler, Illinois to be discharged.
The middle years of Caleb Todd’s life only appear in the form of a few sketchy facts. Following
his discharge it is likely that he returned to the Pope County, Illinois area and a carpenter
apprenticeship. Prior to 1880 he married Hester Anne (maiden name unknown) who was an
Indiana native. Physically, Caleb Todd was described as being 5’10” in height, of a dark
complexion with blue eyes and brown hair. Caleb and his wife moved to Santa Cruz, California in
the 1880’s in the hopes that the climate might improve Hester’s physical health. The Todd’s
originally resided in the Garfield Park area of the community and became active members of the
Disciples of Christ (Christian) church. Caleb worked within the local carpentry trade and may
�have done some building contracting. During the next several years Hester Anne’s condition
appeared to improve, however on July 29, 1891 she apparently suffered a relapse and died. After
almost a year to the date of her death, Caleb married Fannie (Pollard) Marlett in Saratoga
California. The Todd’s moved into a home in the Beach Flats area of Santa Cruz where they
raised six children from previous marriages. During this period Caleb became affiliated with the
Reynolds Post of the Grand Army of the Republic, and served as its Sergeant Major in 1893.
Known for his singing ability, he was frequently called upon to perform at GAR social events.
In 1902 Caleb Todd began suffering from chronic ulcers in both of his legs, and was granted a
veteran disability pension. By 1906 he was no longer able to work and applied for admission to
the Soldiers Home at Sawtelle in Southern California. His application was accepted, and on
January 7, 1907 he became a resident. In July 1908 Todd’s health had improved and he returned to
Santa Cruz, but within a year he required additional medical assistance and returned to Sawtelle.
At the Soldiers Home Caleb became active in the Christian community, conducted Bible study
classes and served as its chapel sexton. Later he also assisted the Soldier Home undertaker.
The writings of Caleb Todd reveal a creative mind and an extensive vocabulary. His first known
contribution to the Santa Cruz Sentinel is believed to be an anonymous poem entitled “Comrades”,
which appeared in the May 30, 1896 edition. The first known article attributed to him appeared
under the name “Signet”, and was written from Sawtelle in 1908. Over the next ten years Caleb
Todd provided the Sentinel with over thirty articles or poems describing life in the Soldiers Home,
and kept local readers aware of the status of former county residents living at the facility.
On December 10, 1931, six months after the death of his wife Fanny, Caleb Todd died of a
cerebral hemorrhage and was buried in the Soldier Home Cemetery.
Source Reference: http://www.santacruzpl.org/history/articles/1199/
�EARLY POEMS OF
CALEB TODD
It is believed that the first poem Caleb Todd’s contributed to the Santa Cruz Sentinel appeared on
Memorial Day 1896, and was a memorial to comrades. A later anonymous poem bearing the
characteristics and style of Caleb Todd appeared in the July 4, 1896 Santa Cruz Sentinel centered
on an Independence Day theme
Comrades
(Santa Cruz Sentinel May 30, 1896)
Comrades, brave and true, I greet you;
Heroes of many a sanguine field
(Where stood the loyal legions
Who dared to die but not to yield),
Where flying missiles ploughed the earth
And shot and shell shrieked through the air,
And battle storms, raging fierce and loud
Spread blackened ruin everywhere.
While frightful death, with unstayed hand
Wildly swept the unfaltering line,
True heroes, shattered, bleeding, fell
A sacrifice to freedom’s shrine.
Brave old comrades, I greet you here
Upon this sun kissed golden shore,
Who faced the thund’ring war clouds’ blast
On many a hard fought field of gore.
The shattered lines and broken ranks
that sadly left the wreaking field,
Where lie the slain who consecrate
With blood the ground they would not yield.
Shall no more bivouac on the plain
Nor vigil keep on picket post,
The drum’s long roll that stirs the blood,
Awakens not the silent host.
Dear old Comrades, halt and grizzled,
Battle scarred, diseased and maimed,
Through iron hail and leaden rain
Your nation’s honors you sustained,
And struck the shackles from the slave,
Reforged the bonds that holds this land,
�The glorious realm of the free,
Upheld by God’s eternal hand.
Brave old comrades, worn and weary,
Footsore and thirst from life’s long march,
E’re long we’ll reach the river’s brink,
And camp ‘neath heaven’s triumphal arch;
These blushing flowers like incense sweet
Thank offering of a rescued land,
We sacrifice upon the clay
Of those who’ve answered God’s command.
Our country’s call placed in our hands
The bayonet, sword and booming gun,
For war’s alarm had rent the air
And deadly battle must be done;
The willing hands of smiling maids,
And grateful matrons, fair and brave
Weave garlands round the scar- seamed brows
That offered life their land to save.
My Comrades brave, though ripe with years,
Our loyal hearts have ne’er grown hard,
Nor lost the touch of angel hands
In camp or fever-stricken ward.
Then here beside the murmuring sea
And San Lorenzo’s rippling side
We’ll take these buds of love and peace
Bestowed by dame and blushing bride.
And decorate the lowly mounds
Where rest the brave and honored dead;
The blue and grey, together they sleep
Upon the warrior’s dreamless bed,
And when we’ve made our final camp
And sleep with honored and brave,
We’ll rest the sweater if angel hands
Cull flowers to deck the soldiers grave.
“Hymn of Praise”
(Santa Cruz Sentinel July 4, 1896)
All hail this great and glorious day,
Our country’s natal morn.
Awake the anthems of the free,
�For “Liberty” is born.
Unfold the starry flag on high
and let it catch the breeze,
Our standard fair shall wave aloft,
O’er land and rolling seas.
CHORUS
Then hail this glorious day,
Heaven’s gift to the brave,
Let tyrant hands ne’er bind
With shackles of the slave.
Let freeman shout with glad acclaim,
And praise the “hand” that gave,
The heaven-borne gift to loyal men,
Their land from chains to save.
From shore to shore let peals ring,
And hush the voice of war,
Nor let the smoke from battle’s wreck
Our peace and pleasure mar.
CHORUS
Then hail this glorious day
Heaven’s gift to the brave,
Let tyrant hands ne’er bind
With shackles of the slave.
From Plymouth Rock to Golden Gate,
Let herald angels flee,
And bear the golden talisman,
This glorious land is free,
And may the God of nations rule,
And guide us in the right,
So the rising sun of freedom
Shall never lose its light
CHORUS
Then hail this glorious day
Heaven’s gift to the brave,
Let tyrant hands ne’er bind
With shackles of the slave.
*
�OLD GLORY
(Written for the Santa Cruz Sentinel May 30, 1897)
Unfurl Old Glory once more on high,
Let its colors blaze ‘gainst the clear azure sky;
Let its luminous folds float out on the breeze
That bears freedom to man o’er land and o’er sea;
Let the old heroes who fought ‘neath its stars
And received war’s heritage, wounds and scars,
Gaze with glad homage on its mingled dies,
With hearts true and loyal cheers as it flies.
For, to your blood and valor, old comrades true,
Belong every star in that field of blue.
When treason’s red hand had sundered in twain
That royal blue field and white starry train,
You rallied in hosts this Union to save,
Unite the white stars, unchain the black slave.
From New England’s hills, the prairied west,
Streamed forth in legions the bravest and best;
True sons of the cradle of liberty’s birth,
Valiant to purge slavery from off God’s green earth;
To strike off the shackles, the fetter and chain,
And blot from existence the curse of old Cain.
Subdue the proud southerner’s hauteur and pride,
That his scourge-smitten chattel might free men abide;
Behold once more that old emblem of light
That blazed o’er the ranks that led in the fight;
Remember our comrades who fell like grain
Before the keen sickle of sharp leaden rain,
A sacrifice noble to freedom and right,
A free will offering without servile blight.
In the pestilent swamps in dark southern wood,
The dauntless heralds of freedom battling stood;
In Chickamauga’s swamps and Virginia’s mire,
Dark Rappahannock’s fierce guerrilla fire,
The bloody peninsular and red Malvern Hill,
Appomattox Courthouse and Chancellorsville:
At Pittsburg Landing and in Vicksburg mines,
In the dark wilderness those battle swept lines,
From Lookout Mountain’s tall cloud-capped height,
Where hero met with hero in death-dealing fight;
Through the Shenandoah and at Stone River bridge,
Bull Run, Cairo, Arkansas Post and Pea Ridge,
And a host of fields of battle-trodden ground,
Where marked “Unknown” our comrades’ graves are found.
Ah! recall the red harvest that sowed that land
�Fiercely reaped by grim war’s death-dealing hand;
Recount the dead conflicts of war’s withering blast
The time worn, gray-bearded veterans have passed.
Close up the broken ranks that grow thinner each year,
The last earthly roll call we all shall soon hear;
But we’ll fling out Old Glory once more on high,
Limp out to Evergreen bid our fallen good-bye,
Strew flowers on their graves as a token of love
And undying affection till we meet them above.
The stranger and friend, our comrade or our foe,
Shall all receive our bounty - no difference we’ll show,
For God only knows where all our old “pards” sleep,
Or who scatters flowers or who beside their graves weep.
My brave halting old comrades, the time shall soon be
When we shall all wake “up yonder” to Grand Reveille,
For our ranks grow thinner on each Memorial Day.
There’s silence at roll-call of the names passed away;
Ere long not a color guard of comrades there’ll be
When Old Glory’s unfurled o’er the land of the free.
C.J. TODD Co. B, 155 Ill. Vol. Infantry.
*
�PACIFIC BRANCH OF THE NATIONAL HOME FOR DISABLED
VOLUNTEER SOLDIERS
By 1887 it had become apparent that the US. Government would need to expand the number of its
existing Soldier Homes to meet the increasing demands of Civil War veterans requiring physical
and housing assistance.
In July 1887 congress made the decision to create a sixth Soldier Home, and established it west
of the Rocky Mountains. Congress then appointed a selection committee to begin the process of
investigating potential locations. When word was received that the Pacific Slope was the favored
location of the Pacific Branch of the National Home for Disabled Volunteer Soldiers, as it was
officially designated, bidding became intense among California cities. Los Angeles offered
Elysian Park of 500 acres, but the city attorney, in an opinion, declared that the city could not
dispose of the park. San Diego, San Bernardino, Monterey and Santa Cruz, all submitted
proposals. In December 1887 the winning bid was awarded to Col Robert S Baker and Senator
John Paul Jones who had purchased property from the Sepulveda family in Los Angeles for a
potential site. In order to have the home constructed at their location the investors donated over
600 acres of land to the Federal Government. Two thirds of the land was from the purchase of
Sepulveda's Rancho San Vicente y Santa Monica, and one-third from the San Jose de Buenos
Aires property.
The Santa Cruz Sentinel of October 5, 1887 published a report by Captain William Blanding, of
the congressional selection committee describing the federal Soldier Home branch and the services
they provided.
“The object, ‘said he’ [Blanding] is to secure a home for the disabled volunteers of all wars in the
United States; Indian, Mexican or the Rebellion, and any soldier who was regularly enlisted and
honorably discharged, and is now disabled, can enter them by making application to the manager of the
home.”
“The name ‘Home’ is applied to the institution in general, and each separate home is called a
“Branch,” There are now five branches in the United States.” and he went on to say.
“The first home was established about 20 years ago at Dayton [Ohio], and is the principal one. It is
called the Central Home. A hotel has been built upon the grounds to accommodate visitors, a streetcar
line goes to the grounds and last year 168,000 persons visited the home. They have a beautiful theater
on the grounds and in the summer some theater troupe is contracted with to play for the soldiers.
Thousands of people attended their entertainment, all paying admission except soldiers.
“A ‘Home’ has all the appearance of a military post, all the inmates being subject to army regulations.
Bands composed partly of veterans discourse music the daylong. In the morning they go to the hospitals
(all buildings being disconnected and isolated from each other), and play for the sick and those
permanently disabled. In the afternoon they play at the foot of the great Flagstaff.
“Everything that can possibly be done to make them comfortable and happy, is done. Flowers are
cultivated, trees are planted and pruned, lawns mowed and kept in order, artificial lakes made at
different places on the grounds, and all who desire to assist in any of this work are paid wages.
“None are compelled to work; it is simply voluntary. The Treasurer of the Home at Dayton has now
invested in Government bonds more than $80,000 belonging to the soldiers of that Home. The money is
not given to them, only when they desire it for express purposes.
“The most impressive occurrence is the death and burial of a veteran. A death is kept as quiet as
possible in the hospital. When a man dies he is lowered through a trap door in the floor into a receiving
room below where he is prepared for burial. He is taken from this room through a tunnel whose exit is
at some distance from the Home. At the exit a caisson, draped with the stars and stripes is in waiting,
upon which the body is laid, and is then transferred to the cemetery in another part of the grounds,
�where it is buried with the usual military honors.”
Construction of the home began in 1888 and by early 1889 “inmates” were being admitted to the
facility in significant numbers. In 1895 the town of Sawtelle, named for a local banker, was
established between Santa Monica and Los Angeles to support the facility, and was serviced by an
electric car line running between the two cities.
During it existence Sawtelle housed over 46,000 veterans who had served from the Mexican War
through World War I. Finances, floods, food shortages, alcoholism, discipline, and other
conditions provided continual challenges to the facility. The greatest concern however, was that
of serving the needs of an ever-aging veteran population. As early as 1907 it was reported that the
hospital was being pushed to its capacity of 600 and that one resident a day was dying. By the end
of the 1920s an increasing number of WWI veterans began to severely tax the capacity of the
Sawtelle facility.
In 1930 the National Home and the Veterans Bureau were combined into the United States
Veterans Administration, and planning began on a major building replacement program. Over the
next twenty years the old hospital and theatre were replaced, and additional facilities were
constructed at other locations. The remaining 1890 structure of the original Sawtelle Soldier
Home were demolished in the 1960s, and its cemetery was incorporated into the Los Angeles
National Cemetery.
Funeral Parade at Sawtelle
(Taken from a post card)
�SOLDIER HOME LETTERS
Caleb Todd had been a resident of Sawtelle for two and a half years before his articles began
finding their way back to Santa Cruz, and he would continue to provide sketches of the home and
its “old soldiers” for the next ten years.
THE SOLDIERS’ HOME
Written for the “Sentinel”
[Attributed To C.J. Todd]
(Santa Cruz Sentinel June 20, 1909)
In reference to the items going the rounds of the press concerning the Soldiers’ Home at Sawtelle,
I wish to make some explanation. Being a member of the home I don’t wish to see it get a bad
name by causes for which the local government is not responsible.
To start with, the capacity of the home is 2200. When I came away a year ago it had a
membership enrollment of nearly 3700 about 2400 of whom were present, with some 1300 out on
furlough. The average attendance is taken at the beginning of the year, and rations are figured for
the coming year from that basis.
Usually there are from 1500 to 1800 out on furlough, leaving about 1800 to 2000 in the home.
Supplies being reckoned on a basis of from 1800 to 2000 and then there coming in an extra 300 or
400, the supplies would naturally be exhausted before the year is up, and under the very best
economy rations are bound to run short, as much as 300 or 400 extra men will consume, which is
bound to show a glaring defect at the end of the year. Appropriations for the homes are made only
once each year, and become available the first of July. The quartermaster’s requisitions are turned
in every three months, on the basis of the average attendance. As there are a large number of
members always out on furlough, it is impossible to know just how many will return and have to
be provided for. When a soldier is once admitted he is always a member, except he is discharged
for causes, or allows his furlough to run out, and not get it renewed each 90 days, for which cause
his name is dropped from the roll. Any one on furlough is at liberty to return at will, and cannot
be turned away, but must be provided for out of the supplies
The men are all rapidly approaching the line of total disability and are compelled to cease active
labor and retire to the home permanently, and as times have been hard all over the coast, many are
driven against their will to relinquish their furlough and retire to the home, thereby overtaxing its
capacity. Then, again, the Sawtelle Home is the third in importance of the thirteen National
homes in the United States, and the favorite health resort of them all. Men afflicted with diseases
in the other homes, for which the Sawtelle climate is beneficial, are being transferred there and
must be received and cared for. No case needing the hospital service, is, or can be, turned away,
whether he is admitted as a member or not. The Government Inspector, Colonel Wadsworth,
closed the home two years ago, against the admission of any new members, who were not
invalids, and offered free transportation to the new Johnsonville home in Tennessee, but the men
refused to accept it. I am sure the local management has done all in its power to avoid the present
stringent condition. But they are powerless to go beyond the limits set by congressional
appropriation.
If Colonel Cochrane, the governor, and Captain Barr, the quartermaster, could move the powers,
and secure the needed supplies, I am quite sure not one old boy in blue would ever have just cause
�for complaint. I offer this explanation that those not acquainted with the home and its
management may not form erroneous opinions concerning its real character for it is truly a great
and beneficial institution, and is worthy of the very highest commendation. Its officers are
gentlemen of honor, high executive force and shrewd business ability.
I have never been in a place where the lines of demarcation are more rigidly fixed in the minds of
the inmates, than in this home.
Anarchy and socialism are rampant, and all the papers published in the world, advocating these
doctrines, are found among the men and are made the subject of close, critical study, and are
continually discussed. It’s a hot bed of infidelity and agnosticism. The drunks and dope fiends
hold their opponents in utter derision. The kickers and knockers, whose name is legion, regard
discontent as a natural feast to the soul of the fault finder and grumbler, and like the fire that is not
quenched, and the worm that dieth not, their work never ceases.
Colonel Cochrane is a Christian, and a strong advocate of temperance. The intemperate portion
of the members did not want him to be Governor. There was a sullen undercurrent of anger when
the canteen was closed, and it was intensified when the change of Governors was made. This
feeling is kindled and fostered by the saloon element of Los Angeles and Santa Monica, which
deprived of the privilege of debauching these old men, and look with an evil eye upon any
restraint. From this source, and this only, come the rumors of revolt and insubordination. If drink
was unrestrained, it would be heaven for the booze fighters, but hell for all the rest. I was present
when Colonel Cochrane was installed Governor and when the men called on him for an outline of
his policy. He refused to give any rules, except to say he would rule just as well as they would
allow him to. If they would be good, and make the task easy it would be well for all concerned. If
not, he would do the best he possible could. More than this he would and could not say; but
would let the transgressors suffer for their personal deeds and not punish the home by stringent
general rules, as had formerly been done. I am quite sure his appointment as Governor was not of
his own wish or solicitation.
SIGNET
*
C.J. TODD AT SOLDIERS’ HOME
Writes of His Experience with Old War-horses of the Civil War
(Santa Cruz Sentinel March 6, 1910)
Soldiers’ Home, March 3, 1910
Ed. “Sentinel “: - According to the Almanac, it’s the opening of spring, but in reference to the
thermometer it’s the good old summer time, and dry as a powder house. From present indications
rain is an unknown quantity; even indications seem to have forgotten to show up lately. During
the winter considerable rain fell, and at times the weather was cool. Frost and frozen ground were
in evidence on several occasions. We have been very comfortable and passed the winter as snug
as “bugs in a rug”. Warm and dry, and never had less money or less use for it. Living is fine, and
abundant, food well cooked and nicely served. There are women in charge of the hospital and the
old men’s dining rooms, and in July we shall have women in charge of the big dining hall. This
will require about 40 women. The upper story of the great building is being prepared for their
quarters. The deportment of the men is much improved by the presence of the women, but there
are some who herded sheep and hoboed so long that they are past al redemption. The general
effect upon the men is very noticeable for the better. The time is near when all help will be
�citizen. The men are growing old so fast that they are practically incapacitated for any labor, save
ward orderly and the lighter kinds of janitor work. It is becoming harder all the time to get men
even capable and willing to do this work. All get good pensions and have decided to take a rest
and get ready to let go and move on. The current expense roll now is about ten thousand dollars
per month. Pensions payment amounts to over eighty thousand dollars each quarter in cash,
beside the amount sent out in checks. The home has a new water system of its own. Six wells
were bored and all are pumped from the powerhouse by a compressed system, just installed. I
think the water is much better than that formerly furnished by the Santa Monica Land and Water
Co. and is more abundant.
During the winter the road to Sawtelle has been in the hands of the contractors, and now we have
a fine road, well graded, with broad sidewalks, finished with oil and gravel. The line of arc lights
has been improved, so we now have a fine boulevard well lighted and of any easy grade. We are
soon to have an iron fence around three sides of the home grounds, with gates and police stations.
I imagine we shall feel more at home then.
Recently we were all busy signing the one-dollar per day petition. When we get that we will feel
we are drawing our back pay to make up that $12 a month service pay that we got in greenbacks,
depreciated to 35 cents on the dollar. The boys feel sure we’ll get it, because the Democrats got it
started and are shaking the bill in the Republicans’ face, much in the manner of the red flag to
anger the bull to make him fight. We’ve done our fighting; let others scrap now; we’ll pocket the
shekels and enjoy the fun.
The health of the home is excellent. Very few funerals. Only the real old last-enders in the
hospital, and now and then some fat man drops down from heart failure. Occasionally one takes
that sort route, but nearly all are booze men, who get disgusted with their vile habit and won’t
stand it any longer. We have nearly 2500 men, and out of that number less than 100 names are
known as misdemeanors in the Governor’s Court. Not such a bad crowd after all.
Drunkenness is quite as unpopular here as any place I have ever been. We never had but one
saloon here, and they put it out of commission years ago, and couldn’t bring it back. Yet lovely
Santa Cruz has about 40, and is scared into conniption fits and is afraid to put them out. Read the
papers, my shaky friends, and see what Los Angeles is doing to them! It is funny how you up
there look upon this question. Look through the big end of a telescope at Loma Prieta and catch
the notion. Surely the world “does move”. It keeps pace or gets lost.
We have a red-hot ball team. Game Saturday afternoon. Good seats and fine music. We have
lectures and picture shows, all the papers and magazines, and new books up to date. Church
services in the Home are well attended and growing in interest. The Missions at Sawtelle are also
well attended
C.J.TODD.
*
PENSION DAY AT SAWTELLE DESCRIBED BY C.J. TODD
Former Santa Cruz Resident Gives Description of Life at Old Soldiers’ Home
(Santa Cruz Sentinel March 26, 1910)
Ed: “Sentinel”: - We of the Sawtelle Soldiers’ Home, have safely crossed the Rubicon and
Caesar still lives, although one hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars was handed out to the
boys one afternoon recently. I have not seen a drunken man, only a few slightly fuddled. Within
half an hour after payment began a long and ever increasing line of men stood at the money order
window at the Home post office, and the express office, beside the road full going to Sawtelle to
�make deposits. The banks are very accommodating, keeping open till after six o’clock in the
evening on pension day. It’s quite a gala day when the payment is made. Many buggies, wagons
and autos are seen along the roads and the grounds full of people in holiday dress. Many wives
come along to look after the old husbands who are almost blind and deaf, scarcely able to stand.
It’s truly pathetic to see how eagerly they received the little brown envelope containing the few
coins upon which the poor old wife must subsist for three months. She can have but the plainest
fare and clothes and a little one room shack to live in, and yet they are ever so glad they can spend
their declining days together, even though barely above want. When I see these poor, old faded,
thread-bare mothers, their warped frames, knotty, twisted fingers, worn to calluses over the wash
tub and kitchen range, their brave, patient old faces, deep scarred with the sharp pangs of anxiety,
I revert to the dread days of courage and bloodshed, when they suffered and toiled all day, wept
and watched over their sleeping children by night, and I ask who suffered most for the nation’s
life?
The more I see of the beneficence of this great home and think what could all these old men do
without it, the more I thank God that we have this city of refuge. There were less than three
hundred passes, furloughs and discharges called for at the end of the quarter. Only a very few
discharges. The men are growing old so fast that the home appeals to them very strongly and they
cling to their membership, much closer than ever before. It’s a promise to pay worth its full face
value, backed by the best government on earth. Armed with it, a many may be poor, homeless,
dead broke and bankrupt in friends, but as soon as he steps inside of Uncle Sam’s gate he is at
home and among friends and heir to all he needs and no man can say him nay. He’s paid for it all
with the offer of his life when the nation’s hung in the balance.
The inspectors were here recently and they treated us very nicely, not even calling the men out in
line. I hear rumors of some changes and improvements, but shall refrain from any comments until
events occur. My company has a new set of officers recently acquired. The old ones having tired
from long service, having retired.
Our new sergeant, making his rounds of inspection, found an eccentric old fellow, whom the men
declared had not taken a bath since Noah’s flood. He was ordered to the bathroom but refused.
Help was summoned and he was put into the tub. His yells attracted the police. “They are trying
to kill me,” he shouted, “I thought they treated me bad in the hospital, but here you serve me
worse. I’ll have ya’s, so I will.” They found he had an iron constitution and was afraid water
would rust. Some said he had been dog bitten forty years ago and was fearful of developing
hydrophobia. He got a bath just the same and is yet alive.
Recently an old Weary Willie was brought to the hospital. The lady nurse ordered a bath and
haircut. This raised a storm of protest. The doctor confirmed the order. The bath was given but it
required the combined force of nurses, ward orderlies, doctor and the house police. He was
shaved and shorn after the fashion of a bronco mule. In less than a week he slid into a clean suit
of citizen’s clothes belonging to another patient and vanished, cursing the institution for ruining
his profession.
The dry spell was broken by the timely arrival of several light rains, which have practically
insured the early hay crop; some say all other crops as well. Since our new road to Sawtelle has
been finished the men seem to enjoy it much and it seems they ...
A Charge on Sawtelle
Tramp, tramp, go the old boys in blue
In crowds of one, and sometimes two.
�Just after grub you’ll see them hike,
With crutch and cane down the pike.
Beneath the pepper tree as it stands,
Holding its delicate lace-trimmed hands.
Each old vet goes marching at will,
Heedless of step or drummer’s skill.
With face stern set and eyes ahead
Closing up where the colors led.
As if hearing the commander’s yell,
Attention the line--Charge on Sawtelle!
What find they down there, do you think;
Business, pleasure or something to drink?
Whatever it is, I cannot guess,
But day after day it grows no less.
They hit the road from morn till night,
Keeping it up as long as there’s light.
Stopping not to rest or explainDown they trudge, and then back again.
These crooked, grey-haired, men of yore,
Who drove human slavery from your door?
Still dream they hear the leader yell,
Attention the line- Charge on Sawtelle!.
When you see them perhaps you smile,
But time was when their rank and file
Between you and dark treason stood;
Firm as a dark, impenetrable wood.
Hearkening the shrill bugle’s wild call,
Facing death and battle’s dread appeal,
Upholding the old Red, White and Blue,
Defending home and country for you.
Have charity now for these old men,
Many were beardless boys then.
Now they’ve nothing, but heed the yell
With crutch, can and peg legCharge Sawtelle!
Which reminds me to say that for a village, the growth in this town is commendable. It is fast
assuming airs. Their celebration on the completion of their grand thoroughfare was very
creditable. Church and school flourish and are well represented and business is anything but slow.
In my position as keeper of the Home church building, I meet many people from nearly all parts of
the country, Canada and Manitoba, and none of them ever heard of Santa Cruz. If I had literature I
should take pleasure in putting it in their hands. I read the “Sentinel” with pleasure and pass it on
with recommendations to keep it going. The make-up and scope of its resources are very pleasing.
I notice much to commend in spirit and enterprise, especially its outspoken policy concerning the
�corruption of the city dailies
C.J. TODD
*
APPROACHES OF SUMMER AT THE OLD SOLDIERS HOME
C.J. Todd Writes Interesting Letter of Life at Sawtelle Near Los Angeles
(Santa Cruz Sentinel May 12, 1910)
Ed: “Sentinel”: - If signs count for anything, the good old summer time is here. Some time ago
the season threatened to be a dry one. Later on two very nice rains came and assured the farmers
of good crops, which assurance now seems in a fair way to be fulfilled. Berries and vegetables are
fine and in great abundance. Strawberries of fine quality are almost a drug on the market, 4 boxes
of the ordinary size sell for five cents, other things in proportion. Apples of good quality are very
cheap. The Home gardens are producing very fine vegetables in ample abundance, all except
potatoes, which have to be bought in the open market. They are fair, but when compared to Santa
Cruz products, are far below the standard. The strawberries look well, but are extremely acid. We
are now well along in the last quarter of the year and everything is plentiful and good. Not a sign
of shortage or of inferiority anywhere. As the last quarter approaches the crucial test comes, and
those stories about starvation among the veterans begins to make the annual tour of the country. I
want to set at rest the minds of our comrades at home on this much-mooted question. No need of
indignation meeting or solemn resolutions, all’s well, and the old veteran is well housed, fed and
clothed. I would to God all families were as well provided for as we are. The new clothing now
being issued is of the same pattern, but of very superior quality. The Government is much more
careful and the inspection close. Members are not allowed to wear soiled or over worn clothing.
Each man is looked after and exchanges made so all are kept clean and looking neat.
The laundry was recently overhauled and a steam mangle and a dry cleaning plant added, so now
we have an up-to-date plant with a citizen service list, cheaper than in the towns. Our new water
system is a success and instead of paying out $10,000 Per year for water, we have a surplus for
sale. The grounds are beautiful, the trees green and flourishing, showing healthy growth. Even
the rows of sequoia giganten from Mariposa are growing nicely. Our flower gardens are all ablaze
with roses and the borders and hedges, red flame swept, so I fairly revel in floral decorations in the
church. From what I gather from reports, things in the country are prosperous. I seldom leave the
grounds now. My duties at the chapel and my increasing infirmities require all my time and
remaining strength, but I am perfectly resigned and happy; and if it shall be that from here
This robe of flesh I drop and rise,
To seize the everlasting prize,
It shall be well with my soul.
Let it come when it may.
I have tried to do my duty
and will to the last.
Health in the Home is excellent. The death rate in the hospital is only nominal. Last Saturday
the two thousand five hundred and fifteenth grave was made. We celebrated Appomattox day in
appropriate manner and are preparing for Memorial Day services. I don’t think it will be an openair celebration, as the men are too old and feeble to march out to the cemetery.
�A fine arch has been erected at the base of the hill leading to the cemetery. On the front are the
lines from Theodore O’Hara’s poem:
“On fame’s eternal camping ground
Their silent tents are spread,
and glory fills with solemn found,
the bivouac of the dead.”
The old part of the cemetery is covered with an evergreen moss that rises and falls above the
mounds, showing the forms beneath the soft mantel, which just now is ablaze with a reddish
purple tinted blossom. In the blaze of the noonday sun it is a glorious sight. The white marble
slabs stand in even rank, sparkle in the light. The iron fence around the grounds is progressing
nicely and the police state at the Sawtelle gate is completed. When completed, the whole job will
be much to the good appearance of the Home and grounds. They will resemble the park
surrounding some old baronial mansion. Through a mistake of some one the commissary
sustained a loss of a large stock of beef, just after moving into the newly completed building. The
icebox was heated instead of being frozen. I haven’t learned upon whose head the big stick fell in
consequence. Our library has just undergone a radical change and been placed under the catalogue
system. The men have always been allowed to go among the shelves and select books. They
balked at the new rule and the charge fell upon the business like a white killing frost, practically
destroying the patronage. But the order was preempting from the governing board and had to be
obeyed. Preparations for installing women waiters and cooks in the big dining hall is progressing
and when 35 or 40 more women come into the Home it will create a mild sensation at least. We
have already had one lawsuit over giving candy to the waiters in L Co.
There was a maiden from Mazoo
Who had a Dutch mother
And a big Scotch father,And she was halfway ‘twixt the two.
And she was fair, with eyes of brown,
A smile was on her lip,
Inviting you to sip,
But on her face was n’er a frown.
Her step was light, and smoother her tongue,
As glassy summer seas;
Or gently sighing breeze,
Among the wind harps softly strung.
There was a grey mustached old vet,
A sometimes country Dock,
Of played out ancient stock,
Who thought himself a Lothario yet.
So he smiled on the young Mazoo,
�And soon discovered the truth,
That she had a candy tooth;
And wisely thought he knew what to do.
His pension plunks he freely blew,
And often scraped his chinGrooming himself to win
The young half and half, from Mazoo.
But now sad trouble arose,
Dock thought it not amiss
If he purloined a kiss,
But she landed one hard on his nose.
Dock’s much wiser now, I suppose,
There’s no maid of eighteen
That’s been recently seen,
Will let a grey mustache tickle her nose.
It is an interesting study to go among the trees and observe the little world that lives there. Birds
are nesting all through the boughs, but they seem more favorable to the cacti in Arizona Park in L’
Companies grounds. Here you can look into the nests and see the process of feeding and caring
for the young. Beneath the cacti is a favorite hiding place for rabbits. At evening they come out
and the men come out and set along the porches and watch them sporting and feeding on the
lawns. Everything here is a pet and treated with the greatest care and kindness. About the
quarters the mocking bird is the favorite. A small cup is filled with raisins and the office windows
left ajar so he can come in and feed. You will see him drop down and often perch on some old
man’s head, then dart in through the open window and standing on the captain’s table, help
himself as deliberately as any regular boarder. Brown thrushes build under the porch ceilings
wherever they can find a nook or box placed for them. In front of the chapel are gold finches,
blackbirds and mocking birds and also grey squirrels. There is a standing feud between the
blackbirds and the squirrels. Hardly a day but I see a skirmish between them. Apparently both
want the same pine tree. The squirrel always gets licked and is compelled to scale and Australian
oak before his pursers call off the chase. They delight to pluck hairs out of his long, bushy tail to
line their nests with. The humming birds are so tame that they will feed within an arms length of
you, but their keen, beady eyes are always on the watch. Loquats (Japanese plums) are ripening
and from the numerous trees planted about in convenient places and along the roads, the men help
themselves. The tree, like its fruit, serves two purposes, shade and ornament; its product is both
food and medicine. It has a strong purgative power, even superior to the pomelo and is very
palatable.
The weather just now is cool and refreshing. The morning are pale blue with a high fog, bright
and warm afternoon. Very similar to dear old Santa Cruz; but not just the same. There is only one
OLD SANTA CRUZ
C.J. TODD
***
�AMONG LOCAL VETERANS AT SOLDIERS’ HOME
Humor and Pathos of Old Soldiers Lives Ascribed by C.J. Todd
(Santa Cruz Sentinel August 24, 1910)
Soldiers’ Home, Los Angeles Co. Cal., August 12, 1910
Ed. “Sentinel”-- Politics is, and for some time past has been the prevailing ailment among the
old Blue Boys, and if this spasm subsides without producing hydrophobia, or becoming epidemic,
we shall feel grateful for escape. You probably imagine that men with as many legs and arms in
the grave as we have, would have, ere this, have gravitated beyond the fume and furor of political
discussion, and turned to their prayer book and rosaries, in preparation for the sweet by and by.
Such, however is by no means the case. It acts like measles- the older one gets the worse they
have it. The discussions of the merits and demerits of the swarm of candidates is much after the
fashion of the food experts. Should one believe what he said, nothing fit to eat, nor any one
worthy of being voted for would be left.
Like the Quaker who refused to share his bed with the preacher who in his prayer told the Lord
how bad he was, remarked, “if thee is only half as bad as thee makes thyself out, I wouldn’t sleep
with thee.” If these office seekers are not quite half as bad as we hear of them, then the country is
in need of new and better men, both as voters and officers. The would be’s have visited the Home
on several occasions, and put forth their oily efforts as word wizards and spell binders, but like the
rhyme of woman, convince a man against his will he’s of the same opinion still, especially an old
soldier. If any two intend to vote the same ticket, I have not met them, and if they should, and it
becomes known, it would be regarded as a very regrettable coincident, so absolutely lone are these
among men, they would regret having their individual line crossed by another.
We have five polling places in the Home, and from the formidable appearance of the ticket, and
considering the age and infirmity of the men, it looked as if we should have to begin proceeding
the day before, to enable all to have the Roosevelt square deal.
The Spanish American veterans have a separate organization, and have developed considerable
strength. In public meetings they endorsed Senator McLachlan, because he publicly announced he
would secure them special pensions, and also work for the $1 per day bill for the older men. One
promise is quite as chimerical as the other, both being made of the stuff of which dreams are
composed. I found Frank Mattison’s card lying on my table, and his big manly shade reminded of
old Santa Cruz, and I felt like I had met an old friend.
MEN FROM SANTA CRUZ
There are several men her from Santa Cruz and vicinity. James Harris, Denny Mulligan, Dutch
Pete, Grover Co.’s old mule skinner for so many years; Jenkins, the old carpenter; Hurd of east
side, and perhaps others whom I have not met. Judge Hossack of Boulder Creek was buried the
forepart of July.
WEATHER AND CROPS
The weather, that ever pregnant source of comment and conversation, has this season broken all
previous records, by remaining too cool for comfort. Twice during July slight showers fell, and
the air has been threatening several times this month.
From all sources come cheering reports of the prospects for an enormous yield from all kinds of
crops. The cool weather seems to have worked advantageously for the country’s good. Bean
harvest is soon to begin, and is expected to be a bumper crop. Hay on the Home grounds was not
a very heavy crop, but is said to be of extra good quality. It is all baled and stored. All crops on
the Home grounds are very promising, even the beets, some of them dead ones, also the hobo,
�which seems to flourish on all California soil, more especially in the vicinity of Sawtelle and the
Soldiers’ Home. Green corn as the next delicacy of the season has just made its appearance at the
dining halls today, soon to be followed by tomatoes from the Home fields. Apricots were
plentiful, but of small size, the later ones however were larger and better. They were gathered by
details of men from the quarters, and when the dining rooms were supplied, the boxes were sent
around to the different buildings, and placed in convenient reach of the men, also beside the roads,
that all might help themselves.
INBORN DISCONTENT
It is relishing to see a man fill his hat with fruit, then walk away cursing the managers for not
furnishing the men something to eat. The longer I live the more am I convinced that discontent is
a natural feast to the sordid soul of the grumbling faultfinder. Our fig orchards give promise of
abundance, and walnuts show up in good form. Oranges and lemons are full crops and pomelo are
plentiful enough to throw at the birds.
The grounds were beautiful during the spring. The borders and hedges showed fine form. Later
the usual stringency of water began to be felt in the limited allowance, so that now the lawns are
becoming quite dry. The Home management developed six wells last year, and their flow
furnished a sufficient supply for the home services, but nothing for irrigation. Several wells and
other sources of supplies are being vigorously pushed to completion. By another year, it is
confidently expected, the supply will be ample for all demands. Water scarcity is certainly the
stigmatizing ban, irrevocably destined to deter the ultimate development of this great country.
C.J. TODD
*
OLD VETS NO LONGER CAN SERVE THEMSELVES
C.J. Todd Humorously Describes Attempts to Relieve the Old Soldiers of their Few
Responsibilities in Life
(Santa Cruz Sentinel August 25, 1910)
Ed. “Sentinel”: - During May and June last, the death rate was perhaps the largest for any equal
period in the history of the Home. May showed 37 cases, while June was a close second with an
even 30. Since then the rate has been merely normal only 17 in July with 7 to date for August.
The furloughs and withdrawals since last June pension has been very large, yet the attendance
holds up to nearly normal standard. Many of the old men when they reach the 20 dollar pension
withdraw, and retire as they suppose to pass the their decline among family and friends, but is a
delusion of the dotard mind. They soon return and are gathered to their comrades on the hill.
Where stand the gleaming monuments?
In long and solemn rows,
White sentinels beside earth tents,
Where green the grave moss grows;
Their last long slumber undisturbed,
By sound of hostile foe,
Their spirits brave, in death uncurbed,
To victory marching go.
The worst class we have to deal with is the special privilege men. They take passes at every
�pension day, and remain till their money is gone. When they are brought in they are in the most
deplorable condition. Usually they live just about long enough to enable the nurse to restore their
sanitary condition, and then being “ousted”, and seeing no possible chance to get out and do it
again, and being dead set against being clean and living decent, out of pure contrariness, and
seeing nothing else they can do, they go dead. The cemetery now has two thousand six hundred
and thirty-six; many more than live in the home.
Forty Waitresses
Last July the Home was put under the new regime, citizen help was employed in nearly all
branches, and the old soldiers were dismissed. The managing board considered the men too old
and infirm to longer perform the work. Forty waitresses were employed by a Los Angeles firm,
and shipped out by night to take charge of the main dining hall. They came a whole carload of
them, bringing baggage, pets, Kodak’s and phonographs, not omitting their double acting,
automatic chatter boxes. When they were lined up, and headed for their sleeping quarters in the
second story of the dining hall, you would have thought Cap McLaughlin was trying to house a
full-fledged pigeon roost. But when they entered the room- there was but one- and saw a walledin space about the size of the aero dome, minus partitions or curtains, and viewed the rows of cots
strung through the floor, you could easily have imagined a political convention in full working
order, or an insane asylum gone mad. Many of the men sympathized with the girls, and joined the
throng, and swelled the din, helped make the ‘wee small’ hours of night gloriously hideous
according to the verdict of competent judges.
Next morning they decamped as mysteriously as they came, leaving in their reeking wake a few
of the cooler headed ones who assumed duty under the guidance of a resident matron. Some days
later other women came strolling in by twos and threes, until the clackety crew filled up, and some
degree of order was established and meals began appearing at some time of day. The boys say
they don’t believe Cap. McLaughlin can run a seraglio anyhow.
The hospital steward had a similar experience with a company of Japs who were employed as
scrubs, to relieve the old vets. They worked a few days, then lined up demanding $1 per day, and
their linen laundered, in addition to their board and lodging. Being denied more that twenty-five
dollars per month without laundry, they packed up and quietly faded away in the shades of
evening. Young white men were give the work, and so far have proved that one white man is
worth three Japs, and some say four. The steward smiles, looks wise, and the work goes steadily
on.
We have just had a female strike in the hospital dining hall. The women refused to move the
cupboard trucks that carry the cooked food along the aisles to be distributed among the tables.
They declared if they had to work like mules they must have proper harness, and when they found
the men would not chip in to buy the straps, like old Maud they kicked and bolted the job. Some
old vets were detailed, and they put it up for their old comrades, till some other girls less fractious
blew into camp, and the hum of gum chewing, the busy clack of tongues woke again the wonted
industrial hum, then the steward stroked his smooth cranium, where there don’t a single hair
condescend to grow, leastwise he has a wife of his own, and you know how it is yourself.
C.J.TODD
*
ECCENTRIC OLD VETERANS AT SAWTELLE HOME
C.J. Todd Describes Some of the Odd Personalities Among the Soldiers
(Santa Cruz Sentinel September 24, 1910)
�Soldiers’ Home, Sept. 20, 1910
Ed. “Sentinel”: -- According to the almanac and the occupation of the granger this is the fall of
the year; September and bean harvest are said to be inseparably associated. As both are rapidly
becoming thins of the past, I am inclined to give credence to the almanac maker, as little as the
weather indicates it. It must be admitted that beans and red peppers know their own time, and
season, and as they have selected the present for the proper time for ripening, it is a strong
evidence of the good judgment of the almanac man, and I shall allow him to score one, not,
however without contemporaneous evidence.
Recent days have been slightly warmer, and some appearance of rain, but it failed to materialize,
and the calm cerulean zenith is sparkling and bright as ever; not a scud of cloud flecks the serene
heavens, where floats the golden queen of night, attended by her retinue of soft, twinkling orbs.
Each succeeding day is so like the last, that the mind is robbed of comparison, change being
apparently an unknown quantity in this summer zone.
So smoothly slides time that we almost forget to note days, and reckon only by events, and as
they drag along in their laggard snail gallop pace, the last dips beneath the disk of time’s horizon
before another casts a shadow as a promise of its tardy coming.
Primary elections with its caloric temperature being the last spasm that struck us, its fever had
quietly subsided, and left us gliding along the dead level of normal existence till out of the dim
future crept along pension day, and the old Blue Boys lined up to the captain’s office and
heroically lugged away a hundred and thirty thousand of Uncle’s big plunks in their little brown
envelopes and then hip, hip, and hurrah, and they began tearing off pleasure in huge big chunks.
Off come old blue, and on went the citizen, and hike for the town at rapid pace.
In a few weeks, and some in a few days, will creep slowly back, or send up wheezy messages for
the ambulance. Soon the undertaker man will gather them in, and up on the hill the long rows, of
new made graves grow and grow, and ever lengthen.
Happily, the booze crowd grows beautifully less, and the greater company went their way to the
post office, and here you see a long line passing in front of the money order window, and the clink
of coin speaks of the hundreds of homes being made happy by the old men who still stand in the
breach behind the gun, remembering those who are struggling for life in the outside world. Only
in eternity will be known the joy inspired by the little rivulets that trickle from this great home,
standing like a mountain of melting snow, refreshing a barren land. From all sides beckoning
hands are seen inviting its patronage.
Even Captain Edwin Bailey, the patriarch of the home, who is nearing the one hundred and one
year of life, is furnishing funds to educate a bright young granddaughter, and last year denied
himself a trip and centennial celebration in Honolulu, his old home, in order to economize for her
benefit.
Indian Louie, nearing the hundred marks, still distributes his pension among needy relatives,
assisting them to gain a foothold in education and business.
Sergeant Colp, who is past ninety-four, having served twenty-three years and six months in the
army, a veteran of three wars, the Seminole, Texan Independence, Mexican and the Civil War, has
just taken his discharge, to go to his children who are improving a tract of 900 acres of land in the
Lone Star State, which was held for him as a reward for services rendered in her war for
independence, and all unknown to him had been lying subject to his claim all these years, and was
only recently discovered by accident. His youngest child is past sixty, but the old Sergeant is hale,
and expects to live many years to enjoy his good fortune.
�Colonel J.D. Higgins is one of the grand old men of the Home. He is near ninety-four, and a few
Sundays since, in the Home Chapel, preached an able, scholarly discourse, full of energy,
eloquence and deep spiritual consolation. He is now absent on pass, completing and addition to
his house in the city of Pasadena. The home is full of these seasoned old war dogs, who after all
these decades possess more vital force than the Filipino and Spanish war men, who are dying like
diseased sheep.
Here is found nearly all types of men and character. Among them is the fanatic, the religious
crank, the long haired Nazarene who has traveled the world over, preaching and searching for
evidence of his particular kind of belief; the Holy Howler who declares every man no similarly
affected, and howling as loud as himself, hopelessly lost; the man who eats peanuts, hull and all,
because God made them that way; the Christian socialist, who is neither Christian nor socialist, the
most difficult man known to live with. But the most colossal fools is the man who don’t know,
and seemingly can’t be taught, that he has grown old, and outlived his day and generation. He is
simply incorrigible. Then there is the looney wit, who in explaining the historic cannon to some
visitors, informed them that as it has two wheels, it fought on both sides at the same time. He also
told the Governor that he did not want the flag staff any longer. Being asked for his reasons, he
replied that it is a hundred and twenty feet long, all of one piece of timber, and that is long enough.
Old Shylock also lives here or did till recently, when he was brought before the Governor’s court
for lending money to the members of the Home, which is a violation of the Home laws. He
pleaded for leniency, offering as an excuse that he only charged the Dutchman’s one percent,
loaned one dollar and collected two. He was given the gate, or discharged from the Home, and
opened an office down in the town, and increased his rates of percentage.
C.J. TODD
*
C.J. TODD AT SOLDIERS’ HOME
Santa Cruz Veteran Continues Description of Life at Sawtelle
(Santa Cruz Sentinel September 25, 1910)
SOME INTERESTING PEOPLE AT THE GOVERNMENT INSTITUTION
Ed. “Sentinel”. -- John C. Campbell, one of the Roosevelt rough riders, died here a few days
ago, and was shipped away to Tempe, Arizona. He is said to be the only member of that famous
organization ever here.
Recently I met and listened to the conversation of two of the crew of the first Monitor that fought
and defeated the Merrimac off Fortress Monroe. One of the men claimed to have caught the
falling body of Lieutenant Green, her commander, whose head was cut away in the action.
Some very queer coincidences crop out occasionally here. One August 25, Wm H. Hunt, E. Co.,
First California Inf., and Jacob Raymond E. Co., First Penn. Inf., died and were buried on 27th. A
man was admitted at Leavenworth Home, and assigned to K. Co., under the Home number 10,180.
Some years later he was transferred to Pacific branch, and when his assignment was made here it
was noticed he had been give the same Co. and the same number. The Adjutant called attention to
the singular fact as a very curious occurrence.
Some men carry their eccentricities even down to the grave, as for instance; one man awhile back
�forbid any kind of funeral service to be held over his remains and ordered the band should play the
“Rogues March” as he was removed from the morgue, “The Girl I Left Behind Me,” while passing
through the pepper tree drive, and “Marching Through Georgia” while climbing the hill into the
cemetery. His friends insisted on having his wishes complied with.
New faces are very noticeable in the Home, and requisitions for new outfits are coming rapidly.
If the present rate of increase continues, the coming winter bids fair to be the most crowded season
we have had. Lest you might come to the conclusion that with all our eccentricities we are a dull
weary crowd, I wish to say such is far from the fact. Two county roads from the Monica’s- as they
say here- pass through the home, and there is scarcely a dull moment during the day or night.
Autos, motorbikes and various other kinds of vehicles are speeding all day, and these beautiful
crisp September nights are made hilarious with joy riders galore. With about twenty nurses and
some seventy-five waiter girls parading the cool serpentine walks in the starlit evenings several
machines squawking tin can music, picture show, band concerts, missions, tent meetings, and
church revivals all in full blast, what would suppose we should want for our money anyhow?
Not a day but the excursion cars pour their human cargoes into the Home grounds, and they look
us over and ask enough questions to jar you teeth loose, only it don’t work that way on old
soldiers. They have manned the firing line too often not to known how to retaliate in kind and
some more for good count.
But when it comes to real sensation, we are there in the shape of a green parrot, which has
learned to sing the “Star Spangled Banner from hearing the band play at color call. It really sings
one verse in fairly good time. Its tone is that of a child’s voice, and it has a surprising accuracy of
tune. Its performances are given at all times of day and attract large crowds, not only of the old
boys, and waiting girls, who come to the aviary to hear it sing, but large audiences of citizens and
tourists congregate about the bird house, and express surprise at its intelligence and admiration of
its ability.
Thursday, the 22nd of the present month, is the annual celebration in the village of Sawtelle.
They have advertised a barbecue and general fete day. All through this Southland, each town that
makes any pretension of being on the map at all, has its annual holiday, and makes a spread, and
invites its neighbors to attend and share in its jollification. This appears to me to be a wise plan.
It creates a friendly feeling and helps you keep acquainted with your neighbors. When large
enterprises are in sight, all are interested and pull together for the accomplishment of mutual
interests. As a tangible evidence of what united effort will accomplish, no one need seek further
than what is presented to the eye of the unprejudiced be holder in all parts of this Southland
C.J. TODD
*
TRACES OF THE PADRES NEAR OLD SOLDIERS’ HOME
C.J. Todd Recalls Some of the Stories of California in the Days of Ramona
(Santa Cruz Sentinel November 11, 1910)
Ed. “Sentinel”: - Since Helen Jackson has electrified the world by giving it Ramona, which has
gained the enviable distinction of being the only true American novel, it seems almost useless to
attempt adding anything to the history or romance of this wonder land, or its rapidly passing
people and their unique life and history. And yet, I mean there are many unsung heroes and
heroines whose deeds and sacrifices will remain forever unchronicled. If such tender passion
touched the hearts of Ramona and Alessandro, and enabled them to endure such suffering and
�persecution and accomplish deeds of seeming impossibility for love of and devotion to each other,
they being merely fair types of the people who shall say it did not exist among them as a people,
and touch other hearts, and sanctify other lives as well. Of their dons, and nobles much has been
written for the admiration of the world, but what hand has attempted to chronicle the life history of
the common people, or lift the veil that obscures their sufferings, passions, loves, hates, successes,
failures, revenges and recompenses. Who has sung their simple joys and homely hilarities, or
turned the light upon their private cares and concerns more than to briefly mention that they were
peons, owned soul and body by the padres, were slaves, and performed all manner of manual
labor, played the guitar, sang, danced, loved, fought drank and died. Being owned by the padres,
and held in perpetual servitude, they were not supposed to have any liberty of choice or
conscience, or exercise any privileges other than obedience to the will and dictates of their
masters, who esteemed them of no worth whatever above their value as chattels, to be used and
abused, according to the dictates of their scheming avaricious owners. Scarcely a foot of this
Southland where has not been a tragic deed, or a league where has not occurred some dark crime,
a hill or dale about which there hangs not some romance of love, passion or crime, connected with
the life of the passing generations, who, decades ago, lived here and labored, and today are not.
Only the broken fragments of a past civilization-- if such it was-- speaks mutely from the dust, of
the ages forever fled. In the fading memory of the remaining few, still lingers some stray
fragments, retained from the wreck of sweeping time, to enable us to link the fleeting days of yore
with the present, and gather a faint afterglow of the times of the dons, and the teeming haciendas.
This country has been owned and inhabited for long periods of years by the Spanish people, who
received grants from the Mexican government. The remains of their old haciendas are yet visible
in many parts of the country. There are many historic landmarks near the Soldiers’ Home
grounds. From early timers I have gleaned information that explains some of the visible evidences
of early settlement. Upon the side of the mountains I observe an open space the size of a small
garden spot. Its frequent occurrence, always in the same form and size, and ranging in the same
direction attracted my attention. Being high up on the dry barren mountains, I failed to see how
anything could be made to grow there, if such was really its intent. I called the attention of a
native to it, and asked what it was, and how it came there in such regular succession through the
country where mountains occur? He replied that it is an Indian landmark and indicated the north,
and is used as a guide when traveling through the country. It was made by the aborigines by
digging away the surface of the mountains, leaving the clay formation exposed. Nothing would
grow there any more, and the spot remained vacant for all time. These places were numbered and
used as assembly points. The numbers started near the sea and ran northward. The number of
smokes on the mountain tops by day, and the number of fires at night, indicated at which place the
assemblage was to be held. Water and provender existed near each place, but its whereabouts was
known only to the chiefs, so their enemies could not profit by their discovery. It is claimed these
signs were known and made use of by the early explorers on their northward journeys. On the
Home grounds stands an immense oak tree, apparently centuries old, called Series oak. It is
claimed that the famous old priest, with his wayward cavalcade, rested beneath its umbrageous
branches when on his journey to the north. A circular rustic seat has been built around it, and now
it’s a favorite lounging place for the old blue boys. Coursing its tortuous way down from the
mountains, is a crooked stream channeled out of the solid slate rock almost as even as if some
slate rock almost as even as it worked out by experienced artisans. In nearly every angle of its
sinuous serpentine course, stands large sycamore trees whose twisted, knotty roots form the most
complicated network of tangled masses of roots I have ever seen. Each tree, or group seems
�possessed of a special history of its own. Not one, if report be true, but is many times a
hangman’s tree, or has been witness to some more heinous tragedy. Near the town of Sawtelle, in
times past, was a large hacienda, and about it the usual complement of adobe kraals, and peon
shanties, and cholo shacks. In the midst of a level plat in the ravine stands the strangest and most
gigantic specimen of the sycamore variety I have ever encountered. Apart from its ponderous
dimension, its weird spectacular formations are truly remarkable, and wildly fantastic, and its true
history if written, would be sufficiently gruesome to frighten even the grim specters that stalk
abroad at midnight so ghastly are the stores related of the wanton cruelties and heartless atrocities
enacted beneath its sylvan mantle. When standing in the midst of the space enclosed by the
spreading branches of this strangely shaped tree, one has the felling of being on board of a
mammoth ship. The numerous branches as large as cross trees and yard arms, hung upon great
masts, cross the space overhead in many directions, dropping runners to the ground where they
become rooted, and form upright bodies resembling stanchion posts, upon which the extending
limbs large as ship’s masts rest and take rise for another flight to repeat themselves in new
formations and weird combinations in bewildering succession. At the final extremity of the
umbrageous appendages, runners drop and touch the ground as posts supporting a huge sylvan
dome, and form an inclosing wall circumscribing its expansive limits. At the base of the parent
stem- which is some ten feet in diastem- which is some ten feet in diameter- is a root formation
resembling a speaker’s stand, and shooting out from the body about twenty feet overhead, is an
immense branch extending in a horizontal line across the enclosed space, touching a bank by
means of dropping a runner, about a hundred feet from the body of the tree. This great limb
stretches across the enclosure like a huge yardarm, and lies in an almost level line, and is entirely
free from branches, and as smooth and regular as if hewn by the ship carpenter’s axe and adz.
Beneath the shelter of this mighty, mysterious tree, the alcaldes held their court. The dais at the
base of the tree was the seat of judgment, and the long smooth arm was the hangman’s gallows.
The poor peons and cholos were arrested for any trivial offense or violation of the padres’
regulations, and condemned without let or hindrance, and promptly executed at the command of
bigoted alcalde. Often, according to my information, three or four at a time were seen hanging
from the riata’s end, at a single sitting of the court. On special occasions a half dozen were
usually dispatched before breakfast. Those not peons were given work on the hacienda at small
wages, and Saturday night was payday. All the money paid out was expected to be paid in again
for mescal at the company’s store before Monday morning, and if it was not, no more work or
grub was allowed until the last dollar materialized. If one ran away from one hacienda and applied
for work at another, he could not be employed until he told where he came from, then he was
promptly arrested and returned to his former place of abode, and there he was treated to the riata
cure, after which he was always a good cholo. If he stole for his master well and good, he was
bueno vaquero, but if for his own benefit, up the yardarm some morning before breakfast. Under
such a nefarious system of injustice it is not much to be wondered at that desperate characters like
Joaquin Murietta, Red Neck, Charveth, Vasquez and others, came into existence. Under the goad
and lash of such cruel and unjust persecution what better could be reasonably expected? Life was
only a ceaseless grind, devoid of even the smallest ray of hope and robbed of every vestige of
pleasure and enjoyment. There was but one single ending, and that as unerring as fate. The
quicker reached the sooner over with, and at an end, as end it must.
C.J. TODD
*
�HOLIDAY TIME AT SOLDIERS’ HOME
C.J. Todd Pictures a Scene of Sunshine with Thorns Instead of Roses
(Santa Cruz Sentinel December 29, 1910)
Soldiers’ Home, Los Angeles Co., Cal.,
Ed. “Sentinel”: - I am not quite sure whether Thanksgiving or Christmas is the best day here at
the Soldiers’ Home, both smack loudly of turkey and other good things to tickle the palate of the
old vets, but of one thing I am fully convinced, pension days knocks them all out in the first round.
It’s both good eating and ample liquid hilarity. This year all three events came close in a bunch,
and their united stimulus gave the sluggish home impulse quite a boost. So far the peace and order
of the Home has not been severely infringed with, as most furlough men are not quite caught up
with their last plunge yet. It’s at the end when the glaring affects of old John Barleycorn’s
nefarious work crops out most hideously. Feeling rich at first, the pensioner compliments himself
with something barely passable; as the plunks evaporate stuff more vile answers the purpose.
Latterly anything in the shape of molten hell is not only welcome but eagerly sought, then cling,
cling, the hospital phone, “This is Santa Monica, Redondo, or some other seaport rum hole John
Doe, No., -, an old soldier, is dead here from alcoholism”. Up on the hill at soldiers’ Home goes
another elegant piece of beautiful workmanship, ground out and polished to a finish by the
saloonkeeper, but no saloonkeeper attends the funeral, proud of his finished products, but slinks
away and hides ashamed of the results of his infamous handicraft. The citizen says, “Oh, well, the
saloon is licensed to do business and the money helps to carry on public improvements”. The
Christian says: “God do unto me as I do to others”-- and if God was not patient, and long
suffering, and exceedingly merciful he would, and the result would be a surprise to the, as well as
a just retribution for helping to license those miniature hells-- the devil’s mantraps.
Fifteen hundred pounds of turkey on Thanksgiving; and a like amount on Christmas, trussed with
cranberry sauce, and flanked by a full complement of other toothsome condiments, is no matter to
be scorned by even a famished tramp- much less by ye old Blue Boys. To watch these good
things disappear before these old men might be suggestive of the flight of Sir Johnnies of bad
memory, if not more so. Whatever may be said detrimental of these old war dogs, concerning
their usefulness or beauty, their appetites and their willingness to use them is above reproach.
The living so far holds up to a very good grade, and shows no lack. The clothing is better than
which I became a member. During the last summer much of the old bedding and blankets have
been changed, and new and better furnished in its stead, wider bedsteads and thicker mattresses
than ever before used in many of the quarters. Scarcity of water in the fall months retarded the
growth of the lawns and flowers, but early rains brought them forward, so that now the lawns and
hedges are in full beauty. As there has been no storms or frost the poinsettias are larger and more
abundant this year than any time for several years, and yet they sell at $1.50 per dozen at the
florists.
Recently a car of oil was sent to the Home and was found to be on fire. The oil was drawn off
from the bottom of the tank. Then empty, the gas exploded with a terrific report. A black column
of smoke arose to a great height. The Home was much excited, fearing the newly installed dry
cleaner had blown up. The manhole cap in descending, cut a large hole in the roof of the
powerhouse, but luckily no one was injured.
C.J. Todd
December 26, 1910
*
�PRANKS AMONG OLD SOLDIERS
C.J. Todd Describes the Antics of Some of Uncle Sam’s Pensioners
(Santa Cruz Sentinel December 30, 1910)
Ed. “Sentinel”- One of the Filipino soldiers at the old Soldiers’ Home, came in drunk a few
nights ago, and went to bed with a lighted cigar in his mouth, and tried to pull the mattress over
his ahead for cover; set the bedding on fire and burned his own clothing. His loss will cost him a
quarter’s pension, and it came near costing the Home a great fire and most likely a frightful
holocaust as there are between three and four hundred people housed there, many of whom are
helpless. This same man about a month ago caused a fire in one of the wards, which came near
getting beyond control. But then he’s a Filipino, and drunk, two things which here seem to be
eternally wed. The rest of us must risk our hides and keep mum because- well, if the house don’t
burn down its all right. You know men- or things that resemble men- must get drunk, no
difference who, or what property is exposed. It seems these brave booze fighters are good for
nothing else, and they must have something to do. Some time ago ex Governor John B. S. John of
Kansas was here visiting Judge Dawson, a former Kansas law partner. The Judge is a member of
the Home, but was able to attend a dinner given by the ex governor at Santa Monica.
Government jobs are a good thing to have in the family as demonstrated by our chaplain, who
has just purchased a new auto for $2,200. He took his wife out for an airing and it went “punk”
and she got out and walked home, leaving the fat man on the flat of his back in the middle of the
road. Late in the evening he came in with the assistance of one of the men, pushing the dead
“critter” in front of them, his face no less red than usual, to say nothing of his temperature.
Ed Hudson, our tenor in the chapel services is a carpenter. The nail he was trying to drive
glanced and struck him in the eye, cutting the ball badly. The surgeons had a delicate and difficult
job stitching it, but it was saved, and he is again singing and sawing. Mrs. Maud Dickens took
part in an early morning wreck on the Pacific Electric, and is asking $25,000 as remuneration for
her share in the impromptu performance.
Among the late deaths is Jose Bube, former Home tinsmith member of L Co. He ran short on
plunks, for a couple of days was out of dope. Nein,” he growled, “life vas no more goot. I quits
mit it all,” covered up his head and went out by the razor route, the shortest cut he knew. Thomas
B. Rosecrans, of K. Co., cousin to our old General Rosy, as the boys called him, was sitting on the
pier at Santa Monica and then he was seen floating in the surf. Now he’s up on the hill at the
Home Cemetery- cause booze. Amos B. Adams, Socialist, retired business failure- even as otherswas on the path leading down to the pepper drive from the big dining hall. He was picked up at
the foot of the hill covered with dirt and gore. Autopsy revealed a broken neck, weight 240
pounds. Benjamin F. Wilson, Mexican War veteran, former senator from Tehama Co., at one time
quite wealthy, was buried a short time ago. Some of his former ranch hands- members here- were
on hand to escort him up on the hill. Capt. Lionel Craig, close lineal descendant of Dan Boone, of
history, was buried some months ago. Fred Waggoner, a big burly German, a Home policeman,
while in Los Angeles on leave of absence, tried to make a mash on a woman on the street. Her
escort who had been getting a smoke came out of the tobacco shop and ordered him away. Words
ensued and Waggoner was knocked down, and in his fall his skull was broken. He was a Filipino,
and a drunk, which seem to go in pairs here.
I watched the recent auto races here; the course skirts one side of the Home grounds. It was
doubtless great sport for the drivers. I have always had an idea that our former experience or
�exchanging gun compliments across the field with the grey-coated Johnnies was fairly dangerous
amusement. Some people, it seems, require even stronger doses than that to brace their strenuous
nerves.
The weather is dry and nothing but fair weather in sight, according to the latest reports.
C.J. TODD
***
C.J. TODD LONGS FOR DEAR OLD SANTA CRUZ
Describes the Beauties of Southern California, But There Is No Comparison With Santa
Cruz
(Santa Cruz Sentinel February 1, 1911)
Soldiers Home, Jan 27, 1911.
Ed. “Sentinel”: - But yesterday the slogan rent the skies, water, water, give us water or we die, and
the country will go to the eternal bow-wows, and blow away in dust. Recently Jupiter Pluvius
succeeded, and at once began to rain, and a glad shout went up and a merry laugh was heard in the
land. Ye granger, made glad by the showers, began industriously tickling the soil with plow and
harrow, scattering seed while singing: “Rain, on rain, good Pluvius, send it down, and then, as if
in answer to the glad Psalm, Mr. Pluvius cut loose a few more aqueous waves, and then up went
all hands: “Stop it, hold up your sprinkling pot and give us a chance to plow and sow. Verily,
man borne of woman is of few days and full of selfishness.
Miss Southern California, though smug, was fast becoming a dusty maid and seedy to behold,
but now she claps her hands and skips for very joy in anticipation of her new spring suit of shiny
green she sees daily being prepared for her early coming out in flowers and fruit.
When fully arrayed she’s a heady high stepper to be sure. With her orange groves and walnut
fields, she’s gay and catchy, stepping in the middle of winter, trigged out in greenery and flowers,
with sunshine on her hat. She surely looks and smells good to the snow bound wanderlust’s,
dropping down from the ice-clad, frost nipped, blizzard-ripped lands back yonder. From the saw
toothed crest of the adjacent ranges this looks like Eden, and holds its size and carries its shapes as
they approach and bears acquaintance well.
Yet amid all this, to me there’s somewhat amiss; “It’s na me ain hame”. Those dense wooded
heights, purple against the fair opalian skies, the laughing streams that glint the sunlight in their
meandering course to the sea, the wanting in this picture. The cozy homesteads snuggled away in
pleasant nooks, where dwells an air of peace and contentment, like surrounds dear old Santa Cruz,
are the sights most dear to my home loving heart, but are the sights I see least of here.
To say the very most that is possible, this, to me, is an inhospitable land, wearing the strange,
uninviting air unfinished newness; a creation of yesterday, done by cheap contract and finished in
a deuce of a hurry, as though the contractor was anxious to have the job accepted, get his money
before the sleazy fabric collapsed and tumbled to pieces.
It seems impossible for me to acquire the habit of feeling at home down here. Things seem so
mechanical, built to sell, or to remain in but for a day and a night. Denuded mountains presenting
only bald, bold severe contours, void of inspiration. Dry shale bedded streams, built less of tree or
shrub to relieve the endless monotony. Art has done much, but the softening, subduing tints that
make for quiet home life and contentment are providential endowments, and only gained by time,
culture and association.
That peculiar not-at-home-today feeling possesses me whichever way I turn. Unless you possess
�the golden key of entry, the open sesame yields to none, though the robbers may be safely
ensconced within.
It’s hard to forget the deep wooded vales, forest crowned hills, fertile fields, cool sweet streams
that forever flow, and sing while coursing their way down to the sea. The leopard cannot shed his
skin, neither the tiger his brassy rings, so, cleaves memory, lingering fondly about the seat of long
established affections. Yes the sunshine of memory lights the hills of recollection brighter than
those within the horizon. So the ungrateful Jews looked back and sighed for slavery, and the leeks
and onions and the fleshpots of Egypt. We are very comfortable here and have as near the ideal
Utopian life as will ever be met with this side the golden gates, but so migratory are life’s
instincts. I am persuaded the whole human race must have emerged from protected periods of
nomadic wanderings and temporary sojourning.
C.J. TODD
*
STATUS AT OLD SOLDIER’S HOME
C.J. Todd Writes Another Interesting Letter from Sawtelle
(Santa Cruz Sentinel February 2, 1911)
Ed. "Sentinel": No holidays have struck us recently. There has been nothing out of the eternal
ordinary to ruffle the placid waters of content or cause a ripple on the surface of slow drifting
time. Health conditions are usually good, not even the usual visitation of la grippe, which once in
a while sets us all barking like a huge canine kennel faying the moon. The death rate for January
has been much below normal. From last year's report it appears this home stands second in
attendance and third in the department of all the eleven national Homes in the United States. The
annual report of Inspector Brewer says the management here is found to be very satisfactory and
highly complimentary to our officers. In the other branches the death rate per thousand for Homes
of less number than this run as high as 131, while here it is less than 93 per cent.
Under the title of order and discipline, Pacific branch stands highest of all. At the Leavenworth
Home there were 644 arrests, 246 of which for drunkenness, an average of 23 percent. Hampton
Home had 1,269 of which 715 were for drunkenness, an average of 29 per cent, Danville, Ill., Joe
Cannon's own country, had 1,455 arrests of which 919 were for drunkenness, and average of 22
per cent. Pacific Branch (this Home) had 263 arrests of which 104 were for drunkenness, an
average of less than 12 per cent. This is surely a fitting answer to the charges of graft and
mismanagement so often heralded forth against our officers.
In gain and loss figures we are like Banquo's ghost, which always bobbed up and would not
down. Leavenworth lost 100, Hampton lost 183, Danville lost 198, while Pacific Branch gained
30. Our actual attendance is now nearly 2500, and the actual belonging is over 3700. Since July
1, 1910, there has been but four in the guardhouse, and not one night call for police assistance
during that time according to the report of the lieutenant of the guard.
Before the closing of the canteen 30 to 35 arrests of a night was not considered bad business, and
yet statistics show that drunkenness in the army has increased 70 per cent and desertions 150 per
cent, since the canteen was closed. That there has been no juggling with the figures, I cannot, and
would not be qualified to say. Of the 2,500 resident members here, not more than 60 or 65 names
are known as misdemeanors in the governor's court. Competent judges affirm that if 100 men,
whose names are well known to the management, were selected and banished from the Home, all
need for a Home guard and police service would disappear.
�Recently many members have been discharged ("given the gate" we call it) on account of
drunkenness, and being absent without leave, of which class of offense there were 38 cases last
year. Judging from scraps of history gathered of the past, the morals of this Home are vastly
improved to what they were formerly. There was one company so drunken and incorrigible, that
their officers refused to remain with them. In the space of three months they had five different
captains, one of whom remained but twenty-four hours when he resigned, declaring he would take
the gate rather than remain in the Home.
*
CHARACTERS AT SOLDIER’S HOME
C.J. Todd Describes Some Interesting Personalities
Men From All Walks of Life Live at Government Shelter
(Santa Cruz Sentinel February 3, 1911)
Ed. “Sentinel”: - We have some noted characters on the home list, men of nearly all walks and
professions in life, and almost all ranks in the army. Charles H. Dial, who served in I Company,
Second Texas United States Cavalry, in the Mexican war claims to be the youngest Mexican war
man now living, and so far his claim has not been successfully challenged. He was born in 1830,
and served all through the war and was discharged at the City of Old Mexico, at the close of
hostilities. Recently died John Boyson, a Hanoverian, who fought in the wars for independence
for his own country, and when he saw it would be overpowered and made subject he resolved he
would never bow allegiance to his enemies, emigrated to America and soon drifted into the service
of his newly adopted home, and served out five enlistments, was discharged at 50 years of age by
reason of the age limit, and wept because he could no longer soldier. His chosen profession was
the artillery service to which he was wedded, soul and body.
Balthazer Schlenker, a Bohemian, served in the Forty-fourth Iowa Infantry. He was a large man
of fine physical development, a miner by profession, a scholar of great ability, master of four
languages, and a historian of no mean acquirements. About his neck was found a bag of gold and
a fine diamond ring.
Why, you ask, do men of such caliber and mental ability come to the Soldiers’ Home to die? For
two reasons, the loss of health and family, having failed to provide for the proverbial rainy day,
and the other great, all pervading reason.
Calvin Lambert (Blind Charley), as he is known here, is a remarkable character. His eyes were
destroyed by a blast while working in New Mexico over thirty years ago. He has been a member
of this Home for many years and has memorized the bearings so well that at one time he was
employed as guide, and he never was found at fault in any of his positions or explanations.
Almost any day he can be seen going about the grounds leading other blind men whom he takes
down town, or to the chapel, or wherever they wish to go. His wife lives in town, and he goes to
his home with the certainty and precision of a man with good eyesight, in fact better than many
who have better eyes but worse morals.
The latest joke was sprung on an inquisitive old lady visitor by a fatherly looking old gent
wearing a fine patriarchal beard as he sat beneath the shade of a palm tree answering the hundreds
of questions propounded by the visitors. The men were gathering for the noon meal and the
officer of the day, wearing his fine red sash, appeared on duty. Pointing him out the lady asked,
“Who is he, and what position does he hold”?
“When they get too bad they make them wear that red rag as a punishment,” was the reply.
�When the old blues heard the joke they sent up a roar that made people sit up and take notice.
The officer inquired what was up, and when he got the story and horselaugh that accompanied it,
he looked almost anything but pleased and happy.
The latest whisper runs, that the sly little winged god with the curved and keen arrows has
surreptitiously stolen into the Home among us, and got busy with his practiced archery, and
already two hearts have fallen victim to his unerring aim, and soon wedding bells are to ring in
another pair, to walk the matrimonial path; whether by flowery vales and green fields, or ever
stony roads beset with thorns, God knows now, and they’ll find out later on. As for wedding bells,
there’s the chaplain, auto honk, the fire siren on the powerhouse, besides the tin teakettle in the
chapel tower, and possibly the bandmaster will lend the bass drum for this special occasion. And
when this is all over I am sure there will soon be more of the same doing, for if rings count for
anything, there are others hard hit, and almost ready to fall.
C.J. TODD
Sawtelle, Cal.
*
LATEST DOINGS AT SOLDIERS’ HOME
C.J. Todd Touches Up Interesting Points in Lives of Old Soldiers.
(Santa Cruz Sentinel March 16, 1911)
Ed. “Sentinel”: - Conditions at the old Soldiers’ Home during the winter have been very pleasant
and agreeable. Considering the amount of rain now nearly 14 inches, that has fallen, no kind of
suffering or inconvenience has ensued. So gentle has been the precipitation, and well time, that no
damage to roads or public property has occurred. The porous character of the soil enables it to
absorb the moisture like a sponge; hence a very small amount runs to waste. Between the storms
have occurred intervals of settled weather, sufficient to prepare the ground for the reception of the
next rain. It is affirmed crop prospects never looked more promising in the Southland. The usual
visitation of la grippe has been noticeably absent during the fall and winter months. No form of
disability has prevailed, and contrary to all expectations and calculations, the death rate has been
remarkable light.
Police reports indicate the general morale among the men has been maintained at a high standard.
Remarkably few cases of any kind have come before the governor’s court during the winter
months, when it is supposable here will be the greater amount of misdemeanor, by reason of the
crowded condition of the Home and general restraint due to weather conditions.
A close canvass of the different barracks shows the Home is filled almost to its capacity. In the
hospital room has been at par all the time, the S.R.O. sign might have been appropriately
displayed almost any old day. By shifting convalescents to the upper floors, and transferring the
more well ones to company, room for the emergency cases has been found, although search for
beds is no uncommon occurrence. Many come in from the outside who have deferred till almost
the last day of life, some even till the very last day, before coming in. Some few cases have died
before the nurses had gotten them disrobed and placed in bed. The men now coming in are
morally a much better type of members than heretofore, largely Christian men of culture and
refinement, which accounts for the pronounced moral improvement in the Home. There are still
some of the old hands who, after being good just as long as they can, break out in the same old
way, and have it out with Old John Barleycorn, and inevitably get knocked out, and have to be
cooped up till he gets his hooks loosened up, and his fingers untangled from their hair, but the
�cases are growing noticeably fewer all the time.
March pension is always looked upon as a crucial test, as it comes at the breaking up of winter,
and often the relaxation from restraint is too sudden and violent, and the rebound so far over the
center, as to destroy the equilibrium, as the colored doctor remarked by ways of explanation. As
usual the annual pension bugaboo has afforded ample food for heated as well as learned
discussion, and brilliant plans for future enjoyment when the raise came. When the gaudy bubble
was punctured (as is was inevitably destined to be) and went down, many were the elaborate air
castles that collapsed with it. But hope perennial springs eternal in the hearts of the gullible, and
the gilded dreams of the old are quite as vivid as those of childhood and youth. No sooner had the
old bauble disappeared than they began rehabilitating its bewhiskered ghost with new filaments of
life that it might bob up serenely in next Congress. Thus will it ever be a “dead sea apple” that
falls to bitter dust when brought to the lips.
Some changes have recently occurred in the medical corps. Dr. Andras Peterson, assistant
surgeon, resigned, to accept assistant surgeon to the Los Angeles County Hospital, and Dr. E.M.
Clinton, graduate of the college of physicians and surgeons of the University of California, was
appointed in his place. Miss Ora Whitman, graduate of the M.E. Hospital Training School of
Brooks, N.Y. was appointed ward nurse, vice Mrs. Travios of St. Louis, Mo., resigned on account
of heart trouble.
The beach towns, Santa Monica, Ocean Park and Venice have decided against the sale of
intoxicants to old soldiers in uniform, and the bartenders have signed a compact, refusing their
trade altogether. These restrictions will, most likely, only stimulate the blind pigs in and around
Sawtelle, and if possible make the matter worse. Colonel J.D. Hunt, of Columbus, commandeer of
the Union Veteran Legion, was recently given a reception here by his order, and duly dined and
feted by the old vets and their ladies.
A few days ago we buried John Spencer, a Mexican war veteran. He was the last survivor of
Commodore Sloat’s men, who assisted in raising the stars and stripes at Monterey, in 1846. He
with a number of others were in attendance from here at the unveiling of the Sloat monument
some years ago. Fred T. Loux, United States navy, weighing 320 pounds, was buried recently.
He was the largest man n the Home, but not the tallest. That honor is held by a Filipino who is
near seven feet in height, and known as the “wooden horse”. When he sits down his knees are
almost level with his face. Enoch Napier, A Company, Twenty-second Kentucky, an old time
printer, and until recently a proof reader on the Los Angeles Herald, and member of the
Typographical Union of Los Angeles, was buried February 3d. Captain Samuel B. McCall, a
Mexican war veteran, and first captain of G Company, N.H.D.V.S., was buried March 8th. He
was No. 125 of this Home and had been here about twenty years. Peter Mangels, “Old Pete,” as
he was familiarly known her, was buried March 8th. He was an old German and a very well
known figure about the Home, having been here for many years. He claimed to have served in the
army for over twenty-three years, having fought through the Crimean war before coming to
America. He was a shoemaker by trade, and often talked to me about Frank de Cray, of
Horsnyder’s drug store, whom he declared he used to hold on his knee when Frank was a “wee bit
of a baby”.
Lying upon his white draped hospital cot, up in ward six, is our “Old Indian,” Daniel Turner,
who it is positively asserted, is now 105 years old. He is still able t converse slowly but
intelligently. He really does no look his great age, but his record is faithfully vouched for and
supported by legal documents held to be unimpeachable.
Just outside of the Home grounds, is one of the G.A.R. cottages, lies the long wasted bony form
�of “Huntington,” the man who drove the first stagecoach across the mountains for Ben Holladay,
when the great overland was established. He is near the borne from whence no travelers return,
speaks with difficulty, and is very nervous and irritable. In the hands of friends he receives all the
care needed, and day-by-day waits the final release that one-day is sure to come.
C.J. TODD
*
ODD EXPERIENCES AT THE OLD SOLDIERS’ HOME
C.J. Todd Writes Interesting Letter of Old Veterans’ Pranks at Sawtelle
(Santa Cruz Sentinel May 6, 1911)
Soldiers’ Home, May 1, 1911
Ed. “Sentinel”: - The sibilant voices whispering among the aromatic pines, the trill of bird and
hum of bee upon the resinous wood-scented, flower perfumed air all indicate the advent of spring.
From my aerie ‘neath the sanitary campanile, my aesthetic eyes sweep the verdant fields, coulee,
hill and dale, that unroll their gentle undulations like a verdant ermine robe where
League upon league, lies the glinting Southland,
Smiling while dreaming of greatness to be.
A misty grey veil hangs on its dim bound,
Where fretful surges the moon-mad sea.
Eastward, San Fernando’s sharp jagged edge,
The dim translucence cleaves above.
Southward, afar, Catalina lies dreaming
The waters amid, like a vision of love.
Like the jeweled queen of the harem comes tripping
In the merry May, with the breath of flowers,
Gaily dancing o’er the land
Mr. Jupiter Pluvius having suspended operations with a gentle aqueous libation on All-Fool’s
day, and a final sprinkle on the morning of the 26th, we are now fairly launched upon the fresh
tide of emerald glory that robes the land like a verdant sea.
Under the persuasive touch of rain and sun the famished lawns, flower borders and hedges have
burst forth in new life and beauty.
Our annual inspection was conducted under the auspices of the full board of managers who
remained with us for several days, looking closely and inquiringly into all matters pertaining to the
management of the Home. They gave an open house for one day, during which time all kickers
had their inning to make complaints and offer suggestions. Complaints would fill a matchbox,
while suggestions could be carried away in a dump card. Our own H.H. Markham, the best friend
this Home ever had, has been promoted to first vice president, and as usual he walked in among
the old grey beards with the familiar air of being one of us. We were all pleased to have his
faithful services recognized and honored. At the general inspection held in Windward Av. there
were 1500 men able to be in line, and were highly complimented by the officers. The combined
age of the men aggregated 10,500 years.
The social life among us continues to be very pleasant. The religious life seems on the improve.
Most of the new members are Christians, and the attendance at the church as very noticeable
increased recently. The spirit of contentment and restfulness among the men is very agreeable.
�Cheerful faces and pleasant converse is met with wherever one goes about the grounds. Among
the small crowd of the ultra discontented only, is a discordant voice ever heard. In this company
the viciously inebriate and the hopelessly infidel- two classes always closely associated- are to be
found all the kickers.
The little blind god with the curved bow broke in among us and did a very bad job recently,
which proves that love is surely blind. George Eagan, a Philippine field nurse, who was employed
here as head janitor, wooed and won Miss Weir, one of the ward nurses. They were wed and went
to San Francisco on their honeymoon tour. Too liberal acquaintance with John Barleycorn had the
usual effect. He leaped from a fifth story window of their hotel, struck upon his head. Five days
married and one big booze. As she new the man’s habits and was aware he had previously
attempted self-destruction, it is evident love is blind, or a fool- take your choice.
Under the head of finished products comes Loubet Kelly, assistant cook. Met old John too often
in a dark corner, cleared the kitchen with a cleaver in one hand and butcher knife in the other,
pulled his gun on the steward, who went up to settle the row. He then adjourned to Los Angeles
where he resumed operations on a larger scale, but was soon persuaded by the police to enter the
cold storage business. The board of health awarded him a berth in Patten for an indefinite period,
the usual resort of all finished products of this class of business.
By the way, I remember you have some scores of these persons doing business in beautiful Santa
Cruz, the gem of the Pacific. Why don’t you let them quit? They are an excellent crowd to be
everlastingly rid of. Its decidedly low, and out of good taste to allow such characters about,
especially where you are inviting nice people to come to spend the their leisure and their money
with you.
Miss O’Brien, direct from New York was appointed ward nurse vice Miss Weir resigned.
A commendable piece of improvement is now under course of construction. It consists of six
new cottages built upon the open-air plan, to be used as a septic settlement for the tuberculosis
patients. They will have kitchens and dining room and be entirely separate, and away from all
others persons, and occupy a special part of the grounds to themselves. That portion of the wards
now occupied by this class of patients is to be cleansed and devoted to the reception of the present
overflow of the hospital. Mess Emma O. Baker, nurse in the wards, was recently injured by being
carried past her station by the Los Angeles Pacific railway. She was made to leave the car a mile
or more from the station late at night. Failing to flag the passing cars she attempted to walk back
to her station, fell into a cattle guard and sustained quite sever injuries. A suit for damages was
brought in Judge Houser’s court in Los Angeles, and she was awarded $1,225.
Some time ago Mrs. Maude Dickens the soprano in the Home choir was injured in an early
morning accident but failed to secure damages in her suit against the company.
Our nearby town of Sawtelle is quite an energetic burg, and busies itself to keep on the map. The
ladies conceived a plan of adding to the improvement society’s exchequer, and in their efforts
scored a grand success under the caption, “Made in Sawtelle”. The hall was filled with all manner
of works of art, each guaranteed genuine home product. Nothing was permitted in the exhibition
without proof that it was made in Sawtelle. Not even their babies. How’s that for enterprise?
Strikes me that’s one on Fred Swanton.
Car services have been greatly improved this spring. By taking the yellow flag car you go
directly into the city. A way car follows from the suburbs taking up all city traffic. These fellows
down here are sure alive to all that’s in their job, and don’t wait to be pushed into reforms, but
take the initiative and push them up against the people. All you have to do is whack up the price
and enjoy your ride.
�C.J. TODD
*
MORE VETERAN PRANKS AT OLD SOLDIERS’ HOME
C.J. Todd Pens Amusing and Pathetic Pictures of Life at Sawtelle
(Santa Cruz Sentinel May 11, 1911)
Ed “Sentinel”- Appomattox day was duly observed here at the Old Soldiers’ Home, as it
always is. John T. McBean was the orator. Among other things he said: “I am not looking for a
Civil war, but I am looking for a repetition by different States of the Union of what was done by
our Legislature that has just adjourned. In that Legislature there was more done to bring the
common people into their own than by any previous Legislature in this State or by any other State
of this Union”.
Our Easter services were very fine. Special music and extra oratory. It’s not well to conclude
that because we are only old soldiers living in a Government Home that we are a sad sorry, lot,
eking out a slow, miserable existence. It would be an eye opener for you to look in upon us once,
and take a few notes. The best bands you can hire we have every day, the finest orchestra in
Southern California belongs to the Soldiers Home. Our amusement hall cost $3500 and stages the
best shows traveling. We own our own moving picture machine and stand second to no house in
the State. Our base ball nine engage the best teams, and brings home “da bacon” oftener than it
goes away.
The death rate for the last two months has been very light, only twelve in the Home for March.
William Stein, K Co., Fifty-first Missouri, a celebrated fresco painter who helped decorate the
Czar’s palace in St. Petersburg, was buried recently. He had been blind for several years.
Thomas, the old engineer who hauled the train bearing Abraham Lincoln to Washington, died a
few months ago and Will Aykroyd, who drove the engine that brought his body back to
Springfield, after his assassination, died a few days since. Both men often talked over their
experiences.
Major Wadsworth of the regular army is now in the Home, making the annual inspection for the
Government. We have been getting polished up and drawing new clothes to make a swell stand
for Uncle Sam. He says we are or have been better men than the Nation will ever be able to get
again.
Its funny isn’t it. When we want things instead of buying we go and hand in the worn things, and
the storekeeper hands out new ones and takes in the old in exchange. No use for money here. I
feel like I had forgotten how to do business, or use money. The strenuous rush and hustle of the
world seems like a dark uncanny dream, a dismal nightmare through which I had been passing at
some remote period, but half remembered.
The latest case of getting stung as we see it has a humorous phase to the man on the other side of
the street. Our chaplain, who is short and stout, and rubicund of countenance, is something of an
apiarist and not wishing to lose a refractory swarm that had betaken itself to the limb of a slim
eucalyptus beyond the keepers reach, resolved to capture it and bring it down. Ascending the tree
by means of a long ladder he sawed off the limb, but the bees rose and settled on another. This
was cut down also, but the stingers rose again. For the third time the parson applied his saw when
the angry swarm settled upon his head and face and got busy with their business end, helping him
make time down the latter. He came down with the limb, and an assorted collection of stings
planted promiscuously about the physical anatomy. Dr. Clinton, who hastened to his relief, thinks
�his pulse must have been less than one hundred and fifty and temperature not quite two hundred
when he arrived on the scene with the ammonia bottle. The chaplain is a man of spunk and good
staying qualities in a close fight and he stoutly maintains there were bees on the limb when he hit
the ground. Tom Brown, the beekeeper, says the same-- there were just two on the limb, the rest
were hanging in patches on his face and neck. All the same, the chaplain doesn’t take any bluffs.
He cites the fact that the latest scientific experiments has demonstrated that bee stings are a
sovereign remedy for rheumatism. If, as is claimed, twenty stings will cure the worst case, he will
be immune for some time to come.
The brightest hour for us in this glad May day was the visit of the kid joy riders. This was an
excursion from Los Angeles inaugurated by the Volunteers of America, and conducted by Miss
Mary Foy, as grand marshal of the day, assisted by J. Alexander Sloan of the Times staff. They
invited the people to place their autos at the disposal of the committee in order to give the inmates
of the Children’s Hospital and the children of the poor a May day outing to the beach by way of
the Soldiers’ Home. Miss Laura, a poor little “shut-n” who was burned by a kettle of scalding
water last August, was chosen queen. Colonel J.W. Edwards of the Union Veteran Legion at the
Home, asked them the privilege of crowning the little cripple queen might be reserved to the
veterans, when the happy kid band reached the Home. To see her “wee” white face light up with
smiles of joy when Captain Reed, with patriarchal beard and hair white as the driven snow, placed
the rich chaplet on her delicate head caused these old pas and grandpas to grow young for the
moment. It was the meeting of the North and the South, the zenith and nadir, the beginning and
the end. It was June and December. Little Queen Laura aged 3, Captain nearly 102. Ah’ yes and
those two thousand other kiddies in two hundred autos- hear them shout in honor of their little
fairy queen. Such sights remind us we are all fathers and have had happy bairns of our own. God
bless the kids, they’ll soon be the men and women of the land. Ah! yes, all too soon for their own
happiness and peace of mind.
C.J. TODD
***
ISAAC GOTCHY PASSES ON
(Santa Cruz Sentinel May 23, 1911)
Soldiers Home, May 21; 1911
Ed. “Sentinel”- On May 3, 1911, Isaac Gotchy of No. 458 Ocean St. Santa Cruz, was received at
the Home Hospital and placed in Ward 1 under the charge of Dr. E.C. Day. Comrade Gotchy
belonged to Co. K, the First Wisconsin Infantry. He was a very sick man when he arrived here.
For a day or two he seemed to rally under the treatment of doctor and nurses. On the morning of
the 11th of May at the breakfast hour he stopped in the midst of his meal, and in a few moments
he breathed his last, silently, bravely, like the soldier that he was. He was buried in the Home
Cemetery at 2 o’clock, May 13th, with full military honors. Some members of his old regiment
were present at the funeral ceremonies.
C.J. TODD
EDITORS NOTE: - Very little else is known about Isaac Gotchy. He probably was from the Fond
Du Lac region of Wisconsin and served in the First Wisconsin Infantry from September 1861August of 1865. During those four years his unit participated in the battles of Perrysville, Stone
River, Chickamauga, Chattanooga, Sherman’s March through Georgia and the Carolinas. He
�was not a registered voter in Santa Cruz and possibly only lived in the community for a short
period of time before entering Sawtelle.
***
HOW OLD SOLDIERS AMUSE THEMSELVES AT SAWTELLE
One of the Old Soldiers Gives His Observations in a Droll Interesting Manner
(Santa Cruz Sentinel July 14, 1911)
Soldiers Home, July 12, 1911
Ed. “Sentinel”: - Judging by the somber index of shorn fields, and the amber texture of dun,
treeless hills, it is the summer time, when sonorous bees gather honey, and the wise, busy ant
bores his narrow hole and lays in ample store. The spring with birds and flowers, seems to have
gone glimmering in fog and damp sea winds- all un perceived until a few days ago the vagrant,
sun southward bound, tripped, and stumbled over the line, and began creeping backward.
Likewise, since last pension payment the dissolute son of man in azure robes, stumbles in across
his uncle’s home line and feeling upward for the ground mysteriously gropes his way to his empty
cochon (that is, if the guard doesn’t steer his star-gazing perambulations to a lonesome pallet on
the ground floor of the guard house to have it out with old John). Uncle’ babies, it seems, will
insist- pension plunks spell plenty of drunks, and hike to the bubbling fountains replete with ye
howling booze. If only the plunks and nose paint ran together in unending parallel lines, and
happily met and kissed at the end of each quarter, leaving no cheerless, dry places between, none
would care to die, or seek other heaven to know. It’s those dismal shortages in rocks that
periodically occur some three weeks after uncle’s generous handouts that so jar and annoy their
otherwise hilarious existence. But they maintain its lots of glory while it lasts.
The sun god having returned with his caloric wealth, all the accustomed open air hangouts
welcome again their wonted habitué of other days save such as the aged gent with the glass and
scythe have invited to a parade up the “Loma de Hasse,” and their name is legion. Paradise point,
southwest corner of the hospital plot, is where religious cranks, political sharps and woolly
howlers meet to chew the rag, split hairs and spit cotton.
Socialist row, on the north side, gathers there the solons of political economy. Any day there one
may gather more chunks of pure concentrated wisdom. Its a drug on the market- all offerers and
no takers. Doctors have ever refused to take their own medicines.
Just to the rear, ‘near the classic shades of a tree of Cathay, sits in soldierly dignity the rotund
form of General Thorp, the oracle and all-round animated cyclopedia of universal information, in
ceaseless ebullition. He doesn’t deliver information; it just simply bubbles up and oozes out of
him. It simply has to do it because he knows so much more than he can contain that there must be
a vent or the consequences would be disastrous and most annoying. To hear him shed huge slabs
of high sounding Socratean erudition and broadsides of Solonic philosophy by the cord or square
yard, is to say the least a rare privilege equaling a liberal education, and like bad whisky, the less
you take the better you feel.
Up and down and all around the flame-swept hedges and flower-scented winding ways, on the
rustic seats in the palm thatched kiosks, are gathered select groups, cussing and discussing
everything from Dan to Beersheba, consigning to limbo all things between hell and Connegaut,
thoroughly enjoying themselves, for it is their boast they fought for liberty and free speech, and
you’d imagine they were using, as well as abusing, the fruits of victory.
�Over at Snieder- the tin soldier fountain- men meet, drink and cuss; either that the water is too
plentiful, clean and free, or that it ain’t strong enough. Some say it burns one not used to that
drink, others aver it is bitter with sin since the people were drowned in the flood. If only it was a
sin to drink it, what glorious stuff it would be.
Across at police corner you get volumes in moments of detective work (mostly the speaker’s own
experience), criticisms by the cartload on the mistakes and failures of Burns and his men, as well
as haystacks of information how to run this Government.
Meanwhile the band plays on, and the summer wind carries the music away on its wings, the old
men sit by their bunks and furiously fight the tiger in games of solitaire, endeavoring to pile up
today what they did yesterday. The jobs an endless chain, quits at night where it began at
daylight. But this endless uncertainty seems its captivating fascination- better luck tomorrow. At
the amusement hall anxious crowds await the opening hour, spit on their hands, seize a cue, and
the battle royal is on afresh.
Upstairs troop the small game fighters and sit glum and silent as King Penguins guarding the
rookery, hovering over checker boards and bewildering chess games, seemingly taking their
amusement much as a dyspeptic his hateful blue pill. It seems to make some men awfully glum
and sour looking to enjoy themselves.
Others with pipe and trusty staff hit the solitary byways, gliding like azure-clad ghosts with
noiseless tread, thinking, thinking, or think they’re thinking, about what- only God knows, or will
ever know. As they never speak, man cannot find out.
The library reading room is flooded by the first morning flush that sweeps in, and is swept out by
the janitor at night.
Meanwhile, beneath the acres of sanitarium roof moves on the ceaseless round of white clad
nurses, ward orderlies in jackets, doctors in uniform, hype, chloride, dope, oxides, bandages and
cotton. Then trundles in the undertaker’s truck, and trundles out to the morgue what’s left of the
grand old army, of the best men the nation could get and better than can ever be had again. The
sun shines on, birds sing, the trees are evergreen. We are happy, if for no other reason than that
we have lived our day, and are no longer annoyed by the desire for pleasure and amusement.
We’re as the gold and scarlet leaves of autumn- ripe, ready to take our upward flight on the sweet
heavenly breeze when God calls. Our work is over. We have left our acts with our
responsibilities as a heritage to the world. Only eternity will reveal how they have been used, or
to what purpose we toiled and suffered
C.J. TODD
*
SOLDIERS’ HOME CENSURE SAID TO BE FALSE
C.J. Todd Paints a Pleasing Picture of Life With the Old Veterans
(Santa Cruz Sentinel September 24, 1911)
Ed. “Sentinel”: - We of the Sawtelle Soldiers’ Home are now somebody, and may be said to live
somewhere, since the aviator astride his big bird has paid us a special visit, and got dumped in our
barley field. Huh, of course we’re somebody, and can put on airs. Some weeks ago Gen. Otis of
the Los Angeles Times arranged with Frank Champion, a local aviator, to make a flight to
Soldiers’ Home, and give an exhibition for the benefit of the hundreds of old men who had never
seen a man bird in flight. That attempt proved a failure, as a huge fog bank rolled in from Venice
just after the flyer started, obscuring the land so he could not see where he was going. He sheered
�off toward Englewood and dropped in a farmer’s corn patch, breaking the machine and had to be
hauled back to the city for repairs.
He was advertised to make the flight on Sunday, the 17th, and arrived some hours late,
misjudged his bearings, and in attempting to light struck an windrow of mustard which fouled the
propeller, throwing the big bird onto its head, twisting the wheel out of line and wrenching out one
of the propeller blade, necessitating an auto trip to Los Angeles for repairs. Late in the evening he
succeeded in getting the thing turned up and gave us a very creditable exhibition, circling the
Home and the town of Sawtelle two or three times before flying away home to roost, all the same
as other birds.
PENSION DAY
On the 14th was pension day, and Uncle Same came around and scattered a hundred and thirty
thousand of his big plunks among the old boys, and we’ve all been happy ever since. Just now
Lieutenant Colonel C.W. Wadsworth, Government inspector, is with us, looking over for the
annual report to the national managers at New York. We hear much of changes to be made, but
give little credence to what we hear. The people here have not much else to do than tell and hear
stories, and most of them are in the manufacturing business. If they haven’t a story ready made its
no effort to draw on the imagination. The Home is very quiet and running along as smoothly as if
oiled for the occasion.
Recently our yearly calamity howl, started as usual by the drunken Filipino consumptives, went
the round of the papers and magazines, whose chief mouthpiece is the West Coast Magazine of
Los Angeles. It seems subsidized by the kickers, or was borne of a grouch and in the objective
case. In ward nine of the hospital are about thirty Filipino and Spanish War men who employ
their time in creating dissension, and starting evil reports. A letter sent from them to President
Taft caused and investigation lately, which brought to light their contemptible fulminations. There
are several characters who make themselves so annoying with their willful misrepresentations, that
they have been expelled from the Home. They hang about and watch every chance to register a
kick. When a reporter appears they fill his ears with their calamity howl about the management,
but studiously avoid saying a word of what caused them to be driven out of the Home. The fact is
they are too mean to live among the men, and use such abusive language about the officers that
they are convicted in the Governor’s court, and dismissed from the Home. These are the men who
furnish the thunder for the West Coast, and others that seek to bring censure upon the homes.
These reports are wholly untrue and grossly misleading. I speak of this as I see some of them
repeated in the home papers, and I want to warn all old soldiers not to believe a single word of
them. The Home is all right, better than nine-tenths of the inmates ever knew.
Already the quarters are filling up for the winter, new men coming in all the time. After a few
weeks among us they declare it would require an act of congress to remove them. Social
conditions are improving all the time, and the rough element is growing beautifully scarce.
Frequently no court is held by the governor, no cases to try among over two thousand men, not a
single offense reported.
On the 20th, Miss Jean Moore, youngest daughter of our treasurer and Dr. William E. Cade,
assistant surgeon in the army were married. Mrs. Cade is the baby of the Home, born and raised
here.
Governor Hiram Johnson is to speak here in Memorial Hall on the 27th, in support of the
amendments.
October 14th will occur the annual automobile road race on the Santa Monica track, which skirts
the Home grounds. Road marking and repairing has been on in earnest, both in the Home grounds
�and on the county roads, for some time. The roads here are something to speak about. Where
thousands of autos are constantly pounding day and night, it requires the best that the art of road
building can produce.
Just now the bean harvest holds the middle of the stage, and all hands are eagerly chasing the big
shiny Lima, and the crop is reported to be simply immense. The cool foggy mornings all the
spring and summer was just what the bean crop wanted, and it has lined up in great shape, and is
delivering the goods. Walnuts also are promising an unusual heavy yield, and if the Los Angeles
papers are to be believed, the tourist crop bids fair to ellipse them all.
These Southland men stick together like brothers and work like beavers, and they land the big
concerns all right. They keep out a decoy for everything that walks or flies, and it seems they
bring home “dat bacon”.
Health conditions in the Home are, and have been, very good, seven deaths to date this month.
Today we buried Albert Saurun, 101 years old. He was a Frenchman by birth.
C.J. TODD
*
C.J. TODD’S NEWS LETTER FROM OLD SOLDIER’S HOME
Various Phases of Life in Southern California Depicted.
(Santa Cruz Sentinel October 24, 1911)
Soldiers’ Home, Oct. 18, 1911
Ed. “Sentinel”: About the first of this, or near the close of last month Jupiter Pluvius slipped one
over on the weather man, and before he could get his signals arranged the country was in the grip
of the Insurgent water wagon, and had to take a through wetting down, lima beans and all. The
“old settler” (as evasive as undefined historical facts) looked up from his habitual siesta with an
eye full of alarm, uttered a Rhino snort of withering disgust. “Who’d a thunk it”, “Taint accordin
to rule.” “Never happened so afore.” It has not occurred to this ancient stand-patter ilk that old
things are passing away and all things are becoming new.
Which reminds me that from the lucidity of his explanations, which befuddle more than they
enlighten, the American people will awaken some day and hire them a new boss, possessed of less
smile and corporosity and more of the milk of human kindness, and the ability to see downward
revision when the millions are crying for bread, and food prices still soaring as winter, cold, gaunt,
and remorseless, takes the people in its relentless grasp.
Apropos of which William cut us dead out this time, (because) when he was here the last time he
told us we lived too long for our own good, and then waited for the “rah, rah” from the old vets,
but he’d put on the Maxim Deafner, and the yell was conspicuous for its grave like silence.
Observing this, and seeing his smile wouldn’t “fotch ‘em”, William concluded his remark be
declaring he could “prove it by the Los Angeles real estate men”. This soothed like a dash of
vitriol on raw flesh, and then he spoke about going and stood not on the order, but “goed”. This
time he “goed” around and no come to see his “auld darlings”.
Saturday and Sunday, the 8th and 9th, Admiral Thomas and his four ships were the guests of
Santa Monica, and the seaside city gave him a hip, la, “hiu skookem” time, and held out the glad
hand to the Jack Tars and Blue Marines. On Sunday was extended to the members of the Home a
free excursion and visit to the battleships. There was a liberal response, but the water was rough
and the service inadequate. Thanks for the courtesy just the same. We recall that when the fleet
visited here we stood in line and Admiral Thomas sat on the side of this auto, brown as an old sea
�dog, and talked fatherly to us as he passed along. “No cheers” was the order, but when “Dad”
Thomas began telling us we were a good looking crowd of old huskies, and never looked better,
and we supposed he was from Missouri and had to be shown. He could see our stomachs were all
right and wanted to prove we had not lost our voices, and so we “gin im” the old ‘65 whoop that
cleared the southern woods and rifle pits. Being wise to big guns he had his cap pulled over his
ears. On the 10th we lined up to do another kind of battle for which we’ve been waiting since ‘61.
I guess you’ve heard from us already.
It was refreshing to see these old men bear their snowy crowns to heaven, thankful for having
been allowed to live to see this day, and be permitted to help enfranchise the old wrinkled, faded
wives who watched the homes, and bore the brunt of war at the north, while the husbands held the
enemy at bay on the battle line in the South. It’s done; her right is fully vindicated, but its tardy
recognition. Most of us might easily say with good old Simeon, “Now, Lord let thou, thy servant
depart in peace”- “For mine eyes have seen thy salvation”. As a fitting jubilation to the glorious
vindications of the sex we all declare:
Woman Shall Vote
Let free men shout, hip hip, hurrah.
The men of this fair golden coast,
(Who make freedom their proudest boast)
Have risen like a conquering host
proclaiming loud with voice and votes
That to the woman shall be given
Full franchise neither her flag that floats,
In glory ‘gainst the azure heaven.
The right to her so long denied
By man, to stand with hands untied,
And vote in freedom by his side,
Help make the laws that shall her bind,
Deal equal justice to mankind,
To her, vote is given today.
The slavish bond of sex is broke,
That heathen leash about her hands
(Cursed relict of some barbarous bands)
Shall find no place in Christian lands.
Woman is now no chattel slave,
In barter given at man’s behest,
And will not longer be oppressed.
As mother of the human race.
In honor now she takes her place
With pride and modesty of grace
Beside the alter fires, to forge
Just laws that shall all evil scourge,
Because free men today have spoke.
And in the glorious onward trend,
�Of human life and liberty,
Her voice and vote shall ever be
Against oppression, for the free.
For purity of home and life,
Driving white slavery from the land.
Promoting peace, suppressing strife,
For just and right she takes her stand.
Safeguarding home and fireside,
Giving to children help denied
By greed, that has God’s law defied.
The marriage bond she’ purify,
The land reclaim, rum’s rule defy,
Be man’s helpmeet and truest friend.
And this, as capstone to the world’s climax, comes the great International auto road race, which
for going some is in a class all by itself. The weather is and has been ideal, and the track as in the
very pink of good condition; the drivers say the finest in the world. The speeding was something
terrific, many; of the drivers urging their cars to a speed of over a hundred miles an hour on some
parts of the track where there are straight stretches. The free for all race was the most reckless,
dare devil piece of work I have ever seen. The winning car, a big heavy weight, won, at a speed of
74.93 miles per hour. A Los Angeles boy drowned several crack Eastern drivers, and leaped into
front rank as a national racer at a single bound. California for brain, and brawn forever.
C.J. TODD
*
ANOTHER NEWSY LETTER FROM OLD SOLDIERS’ HOME
C.J. Todd Describes Some Very Interesting Incidents.
(Santa Cruz Sentinel November 23, 1911)
Soldiers’ Home; Nov. 15, 1911
Ed. “Sentinel”: - Recently old Mr. Boreas, a distinguished visitor from Klondike, accompanied
by a slight offspring of Mrs. Jupiter Pluvius, paid us a visit, and they made themselves felt as well
as heard. Perhaps their conduct was a sequel to the usual Halloween pranks just preceding their
arrival. Anyway they got busy among our clustering trees and did some rough pruning in a very
unscientific manner, in several places dropping trees across the iron fence that surround the home
grounds, besides scattering limbs promiscuously about the grounds, some say, to the amount of a
thousand dollars of damage to the Home. The wind came up nearest to being a gale of anything in
that line that has visited us during my sojourn here. The temperature sank rapidly, causing the
quartermaster to open up his storehouse and hand out the summer’s accumulation of blue
overcoats. We old boys can’t face the cold winds and laugh in defiance as we could in the sixties.
For a few weeks we had been enjoying real summer weather, about the nicest we have had this
year; this made the cold snap pinch all the harder. Just now we are in the midst of unsettled
conditions, between hay and grass as it were.
At the first of the present month our old steward, B.W. Bartlett, resigned to enter business, and
B.I. Preston of Los Angeles took us in hand, and has been giving good satisfaction. He is an old
�hotel steward and therefore, as is their custom, looks closely after the grub end of the job, which
under his supervision shows healthy improvement, and no one but the commissioner of substance
is kicking about it, and we all are seeing him nagged with that kind of pain.
Our chief surgeon, Major O.C. McNary, whose wife has fallen heir to a couple or three thousand
dollars in the East, is packing his household goods, and goes hence the 15th of the present month.
The Major’s familiar phiz has been so long among us, and we have learned to trust, and rely on
him for so many days that the Home will be strange, and look lonesome when he’s gone, and the
loss of his wife’s tall, commanding presence will render us orphaned indeed.
The Home has been quite gay this fall, entertained many visitors, a month the latest being a large
picnic party from Santa Ana, who held a meeting, and gave a dinner in the Pepper Tree Drive,
which was attended by the officers of the Home and the Home band. They all ate and drank of the
good things, then the band boys blew out their brains for their delectation- what more could have
been expected? The visitors were delighted with the Home and loud in their praise of its beauty
and the generous reception accorded them.
“In every land and clime you see two of a trade can not agree”.
Our neighbor on the east is the town of Sawtelle, much of which is composed of old soldiers and
their families. Here are gathered all the disgruntled men who are too meddlesome and contrary to
live in the Home. These employ their time in mischief making, starting falsehoods and creating
disturbances. I have mentioned them in previous letters. They are wholly irresponsible, and from
that source arises nearly all the adverse reports in circulation against the official management of
the Home. As the Home grounds and the town adjoin, dissatisfactions have arisen concerning
sewerage, and now the town is seeking expert advice as to whether a town can lodge complaints
against a Government institution. If so it wants to declare the Home’s septic system a howling
nuisance, as well as make several other and various charges. It’s something like a terrier’s
annoying bark at the feet of the elephant upon which it depends for sustenance. It is said that since
the 22d amendment, exempting soldiers and sailors’ property and taxation has become law, the
town will be forced to relinquish it incorporation, yet some think it may possibly squeeze through.
The town has now on foot (since the women became voters) a plan to change the name in order
to be rid of certain early day associations and family feuds, They contend the name of Sawtelle is
too easily corrupted into Squawtell, which savors too much of the conditions of its archaic period.
The women have the selection of a new name under advisement, and report affirms such new and
romantic head lines as Chicago, Boston and New York are being furiously debated in their oft
assemblages. It’s my opinion such names are rather more exalted than it can hope to attain, taking
its rise from the racherias.
The arrogant squeal of the blind pigs became so brazen and blatant, that recently the Home
officers hunted them out, and sent one James Matherly, a junk dealer, aged 66 years to the county
jail for a term of six months, with a fine of two hundred and fifty dollars. Six months in hock
proved too much for him. While working as a trusty in the kitchen of the jail he seized the potato
knife and cut his throat, dying before medical assistance could reach him.
A merchant out on the west side of the Home had a better proposition. By a process all his own
he manufactured the booze, the men say of good quality and was coining plunks on the trade when
the hand of the law nabbed him. His two trials have resulted in a divided jury and so far the jail,
though yawning for him has failed, but it’s only a matter of time; they wont be deterred by the fear
of punishment.
Dearer than liberty, or even life itself is poteen, and they’d go even to the devil’s stronghold to
get it. That string of eleven’s seems to have received an added impetuous here in the Home by the
�death of Charles M. Burk, who died on only on the 11th day of the 11th month of 1911; but at the
11th hour of the day, which seems to complete the series. William Reed, nearly 102 years old,
was buried a few days ago. He was a Mexican war soldier. At his funeral was Dr. Parker also of
the same war and Charles Dail, who was in two battles with him, Monterey and Buena Vista.
Reed would have been 102 March 15th. Edwin Baily, the oldest Elk in the world will be 102
March 7th next, 8 days older than Reed. Indian Louie, who will be 102 next May, was also
present at Reed’s funeral. Our old man is Daniel Turner, who lives in Santa Monica but is a
member of the Home. He claims to be past 105 and is well and lively. Capt. McLaughlin, the
very last one of the Sloat expedition who raised the flag over Monterey in 1846 is still about on his
crutches, and is often seen leading some old blind man about the grounds. These old fellows are
as cheerful as crickets and happy as clams at high tide, and in no hurry to die.
C.J. TODD
*
REPORTS DROUGHT IN SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA
C.J. Todd Writes One of His Meaty Letters From Old Soldiers’ Home
(Santa Cruz Sentinel February 15, 1912)
E. “Sentinel:”- It seems we might reasonably join the doleful refrain of the grasshopper bitten
Kansas farmer:
We sit and look across the plain, and wonder why it doesn’t rain.
It seems either to have forgotten or never knew how to rain in this blessed Southland of eternal
sameness. There have been a few light sprinkles, but so long ago that their memory has become
ancient history. The ultra optimistic look wise and solemnly aver “plenty of time yet”. I should
like to add; when time fails they are so cunning in the art of doing things they might make a sight
draft on eternity, and mange to get in honored.
The Home’s irrigating tanks are running very low and the lawns and flowers are showing the
effect of drought very much. It is still within the range of possibilities for it to rain, but from all
appearances the most unlikely thing imaginable. Report has it that the pumping plants are able to
supply sufficient water to insure the orange crop, but what can grow for the sustenance of man and
beast does not appear, even on the most distant horizon. The stoic self-possession of the people,
and the press, is most commendable, bordering on stoicism. Not a line is seen in print, or the soul
of a petulant plaint from any source. Truly this seems the long sought Utopia of the one lunger
who has so devoutly wished for that distant sunny realm where it never rains.
The Home improvements, that have been in progress for some time, are all coming to a close,
and as a consequence marked change in appearance are noticeable. An elaborate hot air system
has been installed and is a great improvement on the former system now almost decayed by time
and usage. Since the completion of the system of artesian wells much new supply pipe has been
laid and the latest sections of lawn and garden brought under irrigation service. Two new
dwelling houses, one for Captain McLaughlin, commissioner of substance, the other for Capt
Startzman, the adjutant, have been completed recently, and occupied by the families of these two
officers much to their comfort and satisfaction. Formerly both lived in rented quarters.
The septic settlement so long in course of preparation is now nearing completion, much to the
evident satisfaction of all, as it will relieve the congested condition of the general hospital, which
�has been crowded to its utmost capacity, the morning report often showing not an empty bed in
any ward, except the consumptive, which can not be filled by any but tubercular patients. These
quarters are arranged in semi-circular form, facing the southward, and top ventilated and lined
with wood ceiling, covered with septic germicide paint. They will be far the most sanitary, as well
as comfortable barracks in the whole Home, and yet I do not think one would voluntarily welcome
the luxury of a fatal malady for the privilege of residing in them.
The Home has been the most crowded this winter in all its history; at times it became necessary
to send men to the guard house to find beds, not a single empty bunk in any of the eleven barrack
buildings, with the hospital swarming, and hundred sleeping outside in rented cabins. There has
usually been between 1500 and 1800 men on furlough, but now that number has dwindled down to
about 1000. There are above three hundred more being cared for now than ever at any one time
before. Those competent to judge in the matter contend the number will increase, as the men are
all growing old, and rapidly nearing the end. There is scarcely a day but there are from three to
seven or eight waiting admission, sometimes thirty or more temporary at post, waiting room for
admission.
After March pension some will take furlough, but soon return, generally carried into the hospital
ward to die in a few days, some even the same day. There is no prevailing complaint in the Home
all deaths, generally speaking, are from old age, and long standing chronic complaints. January is
said to have been the banner month for deaths, 33 in the Home and 6 on the outside.
Also in the way of notables it reaped its harvest. There was Major Heistand of the First
Louisiana Tigers, a man of letters and official distinction and a lawyer by profession as well as a
soldier. Capt. Daniel McLaughlin, the very last of the Mohicans, so to speak, was gathered to his
comrades. He was the very last of the Commodore Sloat expedition who raised the flag at
Monterey in 1846, the year my birth, an able seaman when I was in swaddling clothes. After
posing the old man’s limbs in their final repose, I stood by his side in thoughtful contemplation of
his checkered, eventful past, musing upon the history he had helped make. His dying request was
to be buried on Dead man’s island in the harbor at San Pedro, where his old captain had been
resting, but it was ascertained that his portion of the island had been devoured by the sea many
years ago. He left some very interesting relics to the University of Southern California. At last
after the long drawn out period of 103 years lacking a few days, the father of the home, Capt.
Edwin Baily, the silky haired patriarch, quietly fell to sleep. With out affliction he passed out, the
most natural death from old age reported on the records. He was a wonderful old man, hard to
approach but congenial when won over. He was my friend almost from the start and visited me
almost every day as long as he could walk. He refused to use a cane, and wore glasses only under
severe protest. English by birth, he was deeply read and retained his memory almost to the end.
Edward Kerr, A Spanish War man, the tenth son of one poor old mother, was also of the January
harvest. So far this month we have averaged one per day.
In Southland sun, beneath the trees
Where fronded palms wave their broad fans
Like war plumes flaunting in the breeze
We’ve paused to dream with folded hands.
At out tent doors waiting we stand
Ready to don the star-gemmed crown,
When God shall take us by the hand
Saying, come home, life’s sun’s gone down
�C.J. TODD
***
RAIN AT OLD SOLDIERS’ HOME
C.J. Todd Tells of St. Patrick’s Day in Southern California
(Santa Cruz Sentinel March 21, 1912)
Soldiers Home March 18, 1912
Ed. “Sentinel”- Dear Sir- With the advent of March, also came the welcome showers. When
awaking on the first morning of the new month the cheerful sound of falling raindrops awoke a
Psalm of rejoicing in all hearts. The long anxious drought was broken to the merry music of the
“patter of the rain drops on the roof” The copious downpour has been bounteous, at times
bordering on the storm limit. Toward the close came the rain from the north, accompanied by a
liberal share of pyrotechnic glitter, and real old fashioned Missouri thunder, that made the Old
Vets sit up and think they were receiving a message from home, “way back yonder,” so long has it
been since they heard the old water wagon lumbering over the corduroy roads through the timber.
Miss Southland, being a head, high stepper, hurried up and ordered her new spring gown done up
in all the bright shades of emerald, and as yesterday was the 17th of “Ould Ireland,” she was on
parade, tricked out from heel to heads in her new spring attire of verdant hue, shimmering and
bright. Even the music at the bandstand consisted of the green shades, being composed of the
New Tipperary, Irish ballads and emerald waltzes. The whole scene on that occasion fairly
gleamed and scintillated with shamrock and green swards.
On the 14th came old Uncle with his big red wagon, and handed out the little brown envelopes to
the old boys, and never halted till he had passed out about 150,000 plunks to the more than 3000
men that draw their pension from his post. As quickly and deftly as it was handed out it
disappeared, where, how and for what, who shall tell? The post offices, express office and banks
were thronged at once, the gentle impulse of the long anticipated help from papa and grandpa was
felt in thousands of humble homes somewhere, and hearts were made happy by the needed
assistance.
Hope ran high when the Salway bill was passed by the House. Many were sure the long looked
for dollar a day was at hand. It was discussed everywhere, even around the bird cages, so much
was said that the parrots caught the refrain, and the men declare when a crowd comes before the
cages the parrots will begin shouting, “Dollar a day, boys, dollar day, sure.”
Recently Col. Miller, chief surgeon and inspector with Major Wadsworth of the board of national
managers, was here on official business. As this was Col. Miller’s first visit to this Home, he had
very much to say and recommend. Being an Eastern Yankee, he was strictly on the cheap John
order, and began slashing expenses in all directions at once, and ordering changes galore. After
indulging his skinflint tactics for a while he was suddenly brought to the realization that this is out
West, and built on different lines from New England, that people are not falling over each other to
get a chance to work for nothing, with no glory thrown in. He retired wiser than he came, which is
by no means an uncommon experience for down easters. Just now the management is preparing a
list of needs and wants for Congressman Stephens, to be placed before the Congressional
Committee at Washington on the 25th of this month. What the result will be no one can guess, but
should it be anything great, all will be surprised.
C.J. TODD
�*
SOLDIERS’ HOME NEWS ITEMS
C.J. Todd relates some interesting incidents
(Santa Cruz Sentinel March 22, 1912)
Ed. “Sentinel”: - The row over the road passing through the home grounds from Los Angeles to
Santa Monica seems in a fair way to be settled at last, the county having finally assumed the
ownership and responsibility of the road in exchange for certain other rights and concessions
granted the Home.
In view of the fact that the great annual auto road race on the Santa Monica track takes place
May 4th this year, the county is already at work preparing the tracks for that famous event, which
is expected to outstrip all former meets that have taken place here. An incident of historic
importance, which will add greatly to this year’s meet, is the recently discovered fact that the
birthday of the naming of the city falls upon the same day. In 1769 two soldiers discovered a
spring on the hillside from which flowed pure clear water. What shall we call it, asked one of the
other? Santa Monica was the reply, because the water is precious and sweet, like the tears Santa
Monica shed over her erring son. It will be the 143d anniversary of its naming.
Recently Captain John Howell took a tumble from the west steps of the main building hall while
waiting for the noon meal. He struck on his head and his scalp was lacerated severely, one gash
being about five inches long and requiring several stitches. While under the surgeons’ hands he
suddenly opened his eyes and remarked, “Hello, boys, where am I, am I dead?”
As evidence that age don’t cool the veteran blood, Mortimer Whitehead, aged 70 years has just
completed a cottage at Belle Vernon Avenue, and furnished it for a bride. Yesterday he procured
the marriage license. The woman is his old sweetheart of fifty years ago, and is 68 years of age.
They were betrothed before the war, during which they became separated. Now the threads of
their old love romance have been united, and they will wed and finish their days, as they loved in
youth.
Many changes in the hospital force as well as the official corps, have taken place recently. Two
of the ward nurses resigned to go down to the canal. As a becoming outfit one of them, a Miss
Russell, purchased a new hat for 69 dollars. One of the officers being in the matrimonial market,
began figuring what the whole suit at the proportion would amount to, but retired from the market
before he had finished the calculation.
There were 33 deaths in the Home and 6 on the outside in January. This is a banner month of
this Home’s history. There were twenty deaths in February, and eleven to date this month. The
Home is more crowded this winter than ever before in its history. Often men are sent over to the
guardhouse to find beds for the night. New men are coming all the time, as fast as one is out two
are ready to take his place.
C.J. TODD
*
CELEBRITIES AT SOLDIERS’ HOME
C.J. Todd tells of the Men There Who Have Had Notable Careers
�(Santa Cruz Sentinel May 28, 1912)
Soldiers’ Home May 25, 1912
Ed. “Sentinel”: - From time to time we have been slowly gathering in notables from the stirring
days of yore who still linger, like stars of larger magnitude among the satellites of dimmer glow.
Among the others appears the names of two former California senators, Wilson and Cole, also the
names of many well-known pioneers in nearly every calling and occupation in life. Captain
Lionel Craig, a close lineal descendant of Daniel Boone of Kentucky, Dundington, the man who
drove the first stage across the mountains for Ben Holliday; as well as adventurers of the sea; John
Spencer and Captain Daniel McLaughlin, who were the very last of the Commodore Sloat
expedition who raised the stars and stripes in Monterey, California thereby saving the sunny,
golden coast from British rule; McLaughlin the really last survivor, having but recently passed on;
Thomas and Aykroyd, the famous engineers, one of whom ran the engine hauling the train into
Washington that bore Abraham Lincoln as president to the capital, the other driving the engine
bringing the martyred remains back to Springfield, Ill; the last survivor but one of the crew of the
little Monitor that fought the Merrimac in Charleston harbor and many others too numerous to
mention are all gathered in here.
My old friend, Captain Edwin Baily, the oldest Elk of the world, and the old man of the
Veterans’ Home who passed at the age of 103 also graces our long line of notables. As a fitting
climax to this array of remarkable men whose youth reaches back into the archaic period of
America’s economic prosperity and greatness comes the St. Paul of the Republican party, Oliver
P. Wharton, Sr. The editor, life long friend, associate and co-worker with the great emancipator
Abraham Lincoln. Wharton was born in Meigs Township, Musingum Co., Ohio, in 1830, and was
the son of a pioneer Methodist circuit rider of the Mississippi Valley. Learning the printers trade,
he established the Noble Co., Investigator at Olive Ohio, in 1850. Migrating to Illinois, he started
the Daily Advertiser at Rock Island, and in 1856 established the Rock Island Advertiser in
Davenport, Iowa, editing both papers at the same time. In 1856 he was made secretary of the
convention at Decatur, Ill, and wrote the resolutions and articles that formed the Republican Party,
under Abraham Lincoln, as chairman. From this convention was sent to the national convention
delegates that nominated John C. Fremont as the party’s first candidate. Wharton remained with
the Rock Island Advertiser until the breaking out of the Civil war, when he serviced with F Co. of
the Sixteenth Iowa Infantry, serving in the capacity of hospital steward. On his return from the
war he moved back to Pennsylvania, and in company with the late Senator Matt S. Quay started
the Beaver Radical, which was sold to James Reutan in 1870. Unaided he started the Youngstown
Vindicator in 1884. His last venture was at Sandusky, Ohio which paper he edited up to six years
ago when, on account of failing health, he came to California, bringing $40,000 with him, which
was soon lost in several ill-advised speculations, leaving him stripped of the last dollar. Wharton
claims it was at Olive, Ohio, in the office of the Noble County Investigator, and under his training
that General Otis of the Los Angeles Times gained his knowledge of the newspaper business. Mr.
Wharton may be said to be the St. Paul of the Republican Party, which has been the means of
leading the country along the road of its unparalleled advancement and unequaled prosperity.
Wharton was a giant in strength and nature, as well as in intellect. He claims his greatest feat of
memory was spelling the unabridged dictionary through and giving two definitions to each word.
This he did at New Castle PA., while the editor of the Lawrence Co. Journal, owned by David
Sankey, father of the well-known singing evangelist, Ira D. Sankey. Sankey had offered a wager
of $5000 that Wharton could accomplish the feat, but found no takers. Wharton volunteered to
�make the effort and succeeded in the presence of large audiences, which witness the great effort.
In the fourth coming volume of personal reminiscence of Abraham Lincoln, will appear several
chapters prepared by Mr. Wharton in his last days, at the earnest solicitation of the authors of the
book. These autumn leaves of his closing life are full of the power of his virile pen, descriptive of
those stirring days of the archaic period of the grand old party and its ever-living exponent, the
great emancipator.
C.J. TODD
*
WITH OLD VETS DOWN SOUTH
C.J. Todd Paints Present Picture of Los Angeles Country
What’s Happening at the Soldiers’ Home at Sawtelle?
(Santa Cruz Sentinel July 12, 1912)
Old Soldiers Home
Ed. “Sentinel”: - According to the almanac it is the summer time in this “land of little rain,” but
judging by what the weather man is dishing up for me it’s almost anything from January in
December. The weather is a highly variegated mosaic of different patterns composed of spots and
splashes from all seasons. No warm weather of any consequence yet to speak of, morning fogs
that last the greater part of the day, swift winds from the sea most of the time, falling temperature
at evening requiring the steam heaters to be turned on almost every night. The bean weather as
this is familiarly known here, got a late start in the spring and holds its grip to make up for lost
time.
On account of late rains and retarded sowing, the hay crop is both low and thin, and consequently
light, as the grain failed to fill on the Home grounds as well as throughout the country the harvest
is progressing quite rapidly. The cultivated crops, beans, and peppers, are forging ahead
satisfactorily, promising good yields. So far there’s no complaint from lemon and orange
prospects. The general appearance of the Home grounds holds up well with the persuasive
influence of the late fogs. On account of the lateness and scarcity of rain the Home water supply
became exhausted early in the season, and the flowers and lawns were restricted to the scant
summer allowance before the season had begun.
Nearly the whole water supply for the Home and the grounds is being pumped from wells sunk in
the flat lying on the eastern side of the Home grounds. The well borers are now sinking number
one of a new series of wells that is expected to augment the present supply to an ample sufficiency
for all purposes.
Health conditions here may be said to be above par- no complaint is heard from any source, the
number attending doctors call each morning is unusually small. Last quarterly pension was paid
on the 14th, when above $150,000 were dispensed among the recipients.
Next quarter is calculated, including the late raise, will aggregate $175,000. It is most too soon
yet to correctly estimate the effect of good eating and drinking- mostly the latter- on the old
soldiers constitution. Later, no doubt the effect of too free contact with old John Barleycorn will
crop out in all its loathsome, native deformity.
It is fast becoming a serious matter to provide sufficient reliable help to maintain the hospital.
With increased pension, and growing age, with its consequent infirmity, the old men are dropping
out, and the Philippine and Spanish war boys, what few of them are not tubercular patients, are
�thriftless and unreliable. The citizens who come into the Home’s employ are even worse, and
more worthless than old soldiers. The very first payday usually finds them gone on a big booze
fight. They are inveterate beats, always borrowing and running away in debt.
One of them left us in the evening; next morning was in Los Angeles jail, charged with stealing
$300 and a diamond ring from a Pasadena woman. He sent out word he was innocent, but forgot
to hide the property when searched in the jail.
Lewis R. Jenkins of the celebrated 4th Iowa Cavalry, one of the best regiments in the field,
passed away recently at the Home. He was an old time Santa Cruz carpenter with whom I labored
many a long weary day, wrestling boards and nails. His home was out on River St. toward the
tannery. His son George, from San Diego and wife and daughter from Sacramento, were in
attendance at his funeral.
William R. Cushing of East Santa Cruz, succumbed to the ravages of tuberculosis recently in
little Manila, as we call the new consumptive ward, recently completed and brought into use as a
part of the Home, but a separate institution complete its self having, cook, nurse, dining room and
waiters of its own. Cushing was a long enduring patient sufferer and passed in peace surrounded
by home friends.
It is now like the home of Miss Dolly Varden, cleaning day from Monday morning to Saturday
night. Under the persuasive stimulus of an appropriation of $76,000, $35,000 of which is to be
devoted to hospital renovation, we are having a general overhauling, the end of which the mind of
man seeth not. Large numbers are going out since the last pension payment, many declaring for
good and all, which is no doubt true as long as it lasts, but in most such cases it lasts like the
Indian’s pork when he invited his neighbors to a feast- awful quick.
C.J. TODD
*
OLD SOLDIERS FEELING FIT
Interesting Letter from S.C. Resident There
(Santa Cruz Sentinel September 15, 1912)
Ed. “Sentinel:”- Tuesday the 10th, was Grand Army day at Soldiers’ Home and they were here
by the thousands, in fact some thousands more than were expected. When Capt. McLaughlin,
Commissioner of Substance, took a hasty survey of the crowd he fled for the dining hall and set
the sandwich mills buzzing in haste, and the bread cutters chopping like a den of beavers, and still
the crowds kept coming. They declare everybody and his wife got something to eat. They didn’t
eat all they got. When the dump men came to clean up the lawns there were large quantities of
bread, meat and fruit raked up in the rubbish. The day was ideal and the crowd was good-natured.
At three in the afternoon they went to the beach at Santa Monica, and sometime back to the city.
Wednesday was the great parade in the city. Many of the home members attended. Being too
lame to walk about much, I remained and relieved one who could enjoy it better than I could have
done.
The G.A.R. men are holding up well in age and appearance, many of them look young, all
apparently younger than the men in the Home.
The women of Sawtelle won the prize in the marching column in the city on Wednesday. Our
men who saw them declare they were the best looking company in the line.
Our corps women attend funerals at the Home so much that they are in good marching order. I
saw only a few Santa Cruzans on the ground, but suppose there were several here. P. P. Perry and
�a few others were all I met. Kept looking for Judge Smith and Captain Goldsby, but they failed to
come in to range of my spectrum.
We are now in tense preparation for the annual inspection, which is promised for the next week.
Just completed a system of fuel gas, which is to be used in all open fires in the Home. Our new
wells brought in during the spring has proved ample for all demands. Grounds look better now
than at any similar season since I have been here. No summer yet, only fair spring, with a tinge of
autumn. Slight rain, but plenty of damp fog.
Whole membership of the Home 3,392. On furlough 1159. Present in quarters 2233.
Temporary at post waiting admission, 9. Net gain for the quarter 3.
The new investigating committee recently appointed in Washington to examine into the affairs of
the Pacific branch, consists of Senator Chamberlain of Oregon, Senator Carton, New Mexico, and
Senator Jones of Washington State. It has not been announced when they will be here.
Progressives are strong in the Home. Sawtelle is said to be the strongest Progressive town in the
county.
Monthly expense was paid on the third of this month and amounted to a little over ten thousand
dollars. General pensions for this quarter will be paid about the 18th and will run much over the
usual $150. Not above one hundred and fifty names have been received out of the more than 3000
applicants for increase pension.
Next quarter is expected to reach nearly all; the Pension Bureau has been allowed 300 extra
clerks to help out. Health here is good, eight deaths so far this month. YoursC.J. TODD
*
SOLDIERS’ HOME AT SAWTELLE
Entertaining Items From Our Correspondent There
(Santa Cruz Sentinel October 6, 1912)
The first slight shower of the fall season came along with the first of the present month, but it
was so light as to be of little importance. Wednesday night rain began falling again and has
continued to the present, and is still dark and threatening. We have had practically no summer to
speak of. Only one hot spell a short time since, of four or five days duration. The last few days of
September were warm, but nothing approaching hot weather. The season all through has been
remarkable for its unusual coolness. The lawns have not suffered from drought nearly so much as
would have been the case had the weather been hot as usual. Early in the spring the Home
management saw themselves confronted with a water shortage, and began sinking wells. The
second one of a series of three proved such a success that we have had no shortage at all. There is
an underground river flowing from the mountain regions to the northward of the Home and it has
been the belief that it passed through the Home grounds. This season has proved the correctness
of the opinion: the chief engineer believes he has struck the centre channel, and these last wells
seem to sustain his contention. The town of Sawtelle, just below the Home, has a large pumping
station fed by this same underground source, also one or two pumping stations toward Santa
Monica are located on the same underground source. Over east of the Home is a large farming
section in which pumping is resorted to for irrigation, and the supply seems inexhaustible.
Recently the yearly inspector has been with us overlooking all things very carefully, condemning
much worn out property, ordering chloroforming of superannuated stock, and recommending
�changes for better convenience.
After the fall elections we are to have the senatorial investigation ordered by Congress at the
behest of Senator Works. If it proves as beneficial as all the other investigations being conducted
under Congressional authority we shall never live long enough to learn the results, should there be
any.
Recently Colonel Cochrane, our brave old Governor was stricken with a severe attack of
indigestion, from which confinement an acute attack of pneumonia resulted, which double attack
came near exterminating his tenure of office. The Home surgeons, under the leadership of Major
B.F. Hayden, our new head, made a masterly coup and broke the pneumonia, saving the
governor’s life. We had several anxious days and the old grey men hung about the board watching
for bulletins of his condition till it was announced he was out of danger.
Recently we have been having quite a series of accidents. The second cook at L Co.’ dining hall
fell and thrust her right arm into a kettle of boiling water above the elbow, receiving a very severe
burn which came near costing her life: slowly she is recovering.
Being invited to stand and deliver while on a trip to the city, an old vet refused the order, and in
warding off the blow had his arm broke.
The painter’s gang at work repainting the steel ceiling of the big dining hall had a severe fall by
crowding too many men onto an untested plank in their staging. One man is lying in the hospital
with what is thought to be a fractured spine and severe internal injuries besides. Small hope of his
recovery is entertained. Another one had a badly bruised head, but it not wholly incapacitated for
labor. Someone may ask, what do you do when civilians in the Home’s employ are hurt or
become sick? They are placed in as comfortable quarters as can be secured and treated as
carefully as can be done. In case of death, they are buried at the Home’s expense, but not in the
same place with the members, but in a beautiful plot set aside for emergencies of this kind. There
is nothing parsimonious about our good Uncle Sam: he gives a square deal and asks the same.
This morning one of the oldest workers in the laundry was caught and his arm crushed in the
mangle. He has been employed in this place and work about fifteen years, and thought to be
secure against accident. Amputation of the injured member was necessary.
There has been quite a change in the personnel of the Home force within the last few weeks. Dr.
Derhage and Dr. Moore coming into the medical force from northern and eastern Homes, and
Druggist Clark from Michigan State home, also some new lady nurses from the East and northern
homes. A few days since Dr. Reedy, second on the staff, was summarily dropped from the rolls
and dismissed the government services for unprofessional practice and ungentlemanly conduct
toward the female help. Health conditions normal, additions to the membership constant and
rapid, several days running as high as twelve or fourteen. We are expecting the most crowded
condition this coming winter the Home as ever seen. The membership now reaches a little less
than four thousand, and the capacity of the Home is nominally twenty two hundred. We are now
above the number in barracks and the winter rush has not yet set in. From indications it looks as if
we shall be swamped, but Uncle is a good entertainer.
C.J. TODD
*
LOCAL PEOPLE AT SOLDIERS’ HOME
C.J. Todd Tells of Santa Cruz People Among the Old Veterans
�(Santa Cruz Sentinel October 27, 1912)
Ed “Sentinel:”- Though somewhat belated the hot weather arrived with the second week in the
present month, and held on till the 17th, when it moderated, and cooling winds came up from the
ocean. On Sunday, the 6th, many of the men went down to the beach hoping to find cool and
refreshing air, but found the sand covered with thousands from the city, gasping like fish out of
water, the ocean like a duck pond, and the atmosphere simply sweltering. It was much cooler at
the Home where there was a little air stirring. When this climate does buckle down to do the
caloric act it is simply a hummer, leaving one wilted like a cabbage leaf. This is the only real
summer we have had this season, and all the men are wishing its return may make haste but
slowly, and fail to get here. The climate here, generally speaking, is very fine, nights cool, clear
and delightful slightly dryer than at Santa Cruz. The paramount want here is more rain. It is truly
the land of little rain, this year nearly none.
Last week there arrived here the son of Major Purdy of the 59th New York. He being the chief
draftsman of one of the principal railroads running into Chicago, traveled in his private car.
Finding his father very sick, had him conveyed to his car on a stretcher and departed for his
Eastern home.
Friday, the 18th, Maj. Gordon of the U.S. Army came among us on his annual inspecting tour,
and since then has been appearing in all kinds of places, at any old time, day or night. He is here
to see how and when things are done, and he gets there just about the time he is not expected, and
stays to see it done. Formerly, it is said, the inspecting board was not allowed to get past the
Governor’s well stocked larder and side board, but this inquisitive, brown eyed young man seems
to have the faculty of dodging all pre-arranged plans, and like old Banquo’s ghost bobs up
serenely in a promiscuous way that completely befuddles the whole push. He is to remain with us
until Friday or Saturday. Remembering his last visit, some heads will naturally lie very uneasy
until his report is read.
Political discussion continues to be the prevailing amusement in the Home. When news of the
shooting of the Bull Moose arrived men rose up with clenched fists swearing it would elect him
sure if he lived.
The Home is filling up very rapidly with new men, many of whom have never before been in any
soldiers’ home, also many furloughed members are returning. Some days twelve to fifteen cases
are admitted to the hospital. To make room it is necessary to discharge many who are not well
enough to live in the companies, but room must be had for the sick.
Roger Conant was sent out to a company some time ago; have seen him but twice since. His
mind seemed rapidly failing, and his friends conducted him to the dining hall and back to quarters.
The last time I saw James Harris, the old tannery foreman, he was very fleshy, seemed threatened
with apoplexy, and had occasional vertigo. He has been living outside the Home, but promised
me he would soon come in for treatment.
Most every day I see French Pete, Grover Company’s old muleskinner holding down a bench
under a shady tree. He is very fat and frequently falls from dizziness. He chews tobacco, drinks a
little, and attends the Mission and tells his experience most every night. Old soldiers must have
some amusement, and while they are doing these things they’re not doing worse.
C.J. TODD
***
�THANKSGIVING AT SOLDIERS’ HOME
There’s Really Nothing That the Old Soldiers Are Not Qualified To Do
(Santa Cruz Sentinel December 3, 1912)
Soldiers’ Home, November 30, 1912
Ed. “Sentinel”: - The annual Thanksgiving Day was here as elsewhere, and we were feasting,
some giving thanks, while others were whetting their knives. It’s strange to note how different the
subject for which men are thankful. What is joy for me is gloom and sorrow for my neighbor. My
food is his poison. We have just recovered from the effort of having helped the other old vets
destroy 2500 pounds of turkey. Our dinner was good enough for the king, and as well prepared as
if mother had cooked it herself.
The tables were draped with flowers and evergreens, and the dinner was served by girls dressed
in snowy garments. After all had finished there was plenty left on the tables for many more.
When people tell you we are starving at the Soldiers’ Home, just smile out real loud, and ask them
if they have been here to see. I haven’t forgotten the day when I was a householder, and I recall
the dinners that I sat to at my own table as well as at others, and I recall nothing better than this, or
any company more congenial.
My associates here are men of broad intelligence, deep reading and much travel. There’s not a
subject from the roping of a calf to the building of the Panama Canal, but is as familiar as a child’s
primer. We have men who could give J.P. Morgan cards and spades and then beat him at his own
game of high finance. The fact that they failed to hold onto any of the money they made cuts not
figure. All men are liable to losses some time, and theirs came a little too late to recuperate. But
they know how it’s done just the same and can tell you all about it. Don’t let yourselves be beaten
with the notion that we’re a sad lot of disgruntled has beens, far from it. We’re voluminous
readers, ready debaters, born scrapper and never known as quitters. Drop in some day and tackle
some of these old grey beards and see how much whole skin you get out of the scrap with.
Just as we arose from dinner the fire bells gave the alarm, and in the city of Sawtelle, just outside
the Home gates, we saw the High School building wrapped in flames. It burned fiercely and was a
total loss of about $20,000. Have not learned if it was insured. Recently the city completed a new
wing at a large cost. Auto fire fighters came screaming through the Home from Santa Monica,
and as the wind was quiet they managed to confine the blaze to the schoolhouse square.
C.J. TODD
***
PENSION MONEY AT SOLDIERS’ HOME
Old John Barleycorn Comes in For the Soldiers’ Money
(Santa Cruz Sentinel January 9, 1913)
Soldiers’ Home, January 8th
Ed. “Sentinel”: - Within the very recent past several notable events have transpired all in a
bunch, as it were; the shortest day and the longest night in December last of blessed memory. On
the 28th of said month, long looked for and devoutly wished, came the much delayed pension for
the last quarter of twelve. Christmas with a plentiful supply of tender fat pig, which proved to be
the best turkey of the season.
Then came the New Year finding most of us asleep and others heaping anathemas upon the heads
�of the merrymakers. The joy rider found a new means of torment by trimming his auto in bells
and automatic horns and galloping through the Home grounds, shattering the solemn hush and
quietude of this staid classic retreat, dissipating the gay dreams of ye slumberous war dogs.
By reason of the lateness of the pension the annual Bacchanal was somewhat delayed, but broke
out afresh when the little brown sacks had been distributed, as provided by our generous old
Uncle, who knoweth our various wants and contributes thereto. So far there has been few
fatalities from too severe contact with old John Barleycorn, but many sudden falls and hard
knocks, but none severe enough to knock any wisdom into the heads of the unfortunate. One thing
men cannot and will never learn that drink never has nor will make a good man better. Here men
openly justify the habit and argue in its favor, considering any interference with their habit as
unwarrantable restraint. One man declares he has been drunk for fifty years and will be for fifty
more if he lives.
On New Year’s morning a big Irish Filipino started in to clean out his company and had about
licked everything between decks when his Captain took a hand and was promptly knock out, as
were the police who came in to settle the racket. Finally they cast a hawser onto him and towed
his hulk away to the guardhouse. Soon after we had a fine assortment of moss agate eyes and
barked noses to patch up. When he dried out he was tried in Governor’s court and dismissed from
the Home.
Our hospital steward, though often before having bit the dirt under the corn juice stimulant, could
not resist the temptation to enter the ring once more against old John, and as usual came off worse
than second best, minus epaulets and chevrons, and a new man was administering the affairs of his
office. One of the captains got so far to sea in the dirty slouch of rackety booze that he gave the
wrong roster for a dead man in his company and mussed up the records to the extent of causing us
to nearly bury the wrong man or wrong name, we have hardly found out which.
C.J. TODD
*
LETTER FROM SOLDIERS’ HOME
(Santa Cruz Sentinel August 23, 1913)
Soldiers’ Home Los Angeles Co
Ed. “Sentinel”:- As the new exclusion law has gone into effect, and the Japs’ fleet failed to
materialize and blow us off the land, and the Mexican insurrection has bred no contagion, the great
automobile races have swept around and vanished, I might be excused for merely hinting that we
are still on the earth, if not of it. So quietly do we exist that, as the critic remarked to Carlyle in
his silent brick tower, we might live and work on to eternity, and the world, or any one, be the
better or wiser. So small a ripple do we create on the waters that should we cease to be, would
even God take notice? Life here proceeds much on the plan of Tennyson’s Loxley Hall: the same
old wheel goes round year by year, in the same old rut, which grows deeper and deeper ‘neath its
constant tread. Like any other gregarians, while we are fed and sheltered we remain docile. Even
oysters- according to Mark Twain- lie quiet if soft music be played to them.
We having found the line of least resistance, and are sticking to it as close as a bee to a tar barrel.
We are operating on the principle that Uncle Sam expects every man to do his duty; so when the
gong sounds, “Charge the bean brigade,” it’s counted rank heresy and neglect of duty in face of an
�enemy to not respond. Cowardice in front of the foe is the highest crime known to warfare. Three
meals a day- we don’t live on brick either- with plenty of sleep wedged in between, is considered
the reasonable duty for good old vets, and like Lo, the poor Indian, all the good vets are not yet
gone to the happy hunting ground, although John Barleycorn is doing double stunts and working
overtime to keep up with his job.
Recently the boys sent East for a new recipe for concocting hand made nose paint. Sampling the
first batch acted like a boomerang. The undertaker got one case, and several others are promised
on hasty orders.
Captain Murray, our new commissary captain, has succeeded in silencing the heroic growl about
bad food; now the men are at sea for a new causus belli. A large portion of the pension increases
have arrived, we have money to burn, but most of the burning is down the throat and stomach.
The cause we have for general congratulation, the chaplain of eight years residence has been
shaken loose from the crib, and goes out to browse elsewhere. From being the party non gracia,
he has developed into the most cordially hated person in the post. We are to have an old soldier
chaplain from one of the churches in Los Angeles. Will Knighton, an Iowa man, be his successor?
Will the men like him? I think so- nit- If he is a Christian gentleman, surely not. Most of them, if
they were rushed into heaven, would rare up and kick the door off the hinges; and get out where
they could find booze.
While the theatre was undergoing repairs, we had the picture shows and the band concert out
doors; mounted the picture machine in the bandstand and fired the shades up against a canvas. It
became immensely popular. Autos parked along the road and the town of Sawtelle turned out en
mass. The whole world seemed but grown up children, crazy for pictures.
This year, for the first time in the history of the home, there has occurred no water shortage.
Lawns and flowers are fresh and growing and water to spare. Crops generally are good. Beans,
the “nickel mint” of the South, are immense. All other prospects are favorable. Weather cool and
pleasant- superb for loafing
C.J. TODD
***
SOLDIERS’ HOME FLOOD LETTER
C.J. Todd Writes of Flood Results in Southern California
(Santa Cruz Sentinel February 28, 1914)
Ed "Sentinel": - Between the predictions of Father Ricard and that San Jose Chinaman's
educated toad, the aqueous element has finally got next to us in great shape. This is said to be the
land of little rain, and during my sojourn here the title has seemed to fit the country like a duck's
foot in the mud; but by way of diversion, this season has buckled down to business and smashed
the record and wiped the dry appellation off the map and then some.
Tuesday night, the 17th, the beautiful began pattering on our shingles and continued increasing
with scarcely a pause until the 20th, when it let go all holds and simply fell. We had been
congratulating ourselves on escaping with little injury and receiving all the good, but our time
came at the end of three days and four nights.
Just as the storm was abating the alarm whistle on the power works was wildly sounded and we
tumbled out of bed just in time to see a wall of water coming down the canyon, rolling over the
flat at the base of the home grounds, plowing up the gardens and orchards and flooding the
�property yards, quartermaster's building, store houses, and rolling in a tide of mud and water on
top of the machinery, flooding the boiler furnaces and putting the whole power plant completely
out of business. Four hundred sacks of potatoes, as well as tons of other foodstuffs were
submerged in the cold storage cellars of the commissary department, leaving a large quantity of
fresh meats to spoil for want of ice.
The Jones walnut orchard below the home, looked as if they had started cutting a series of
Panama canals across it, trees uprooted and piled in heaps. Bridges on the road to the cemetery
were washed away; so all funerals were called off, leaving the morgue with quite a stock on hand.
Then the tide swept on down through the town of Sawtelle, making it look like a swamp dotted
with beaver dams. The flood formed a lake along the seashore almost to Redondo, resembling a
mud sea. Mounted scouts reported the cause to be the bursting of the Santa Monica Water Co.'s
dam, located about five miles up the canyon, north of the home. I hear the home authorities will
bring suit for damages. I fear much sickness for want of heat in the home.
C.J. TODD
***
LIVELY TIME AT SAWTELLE
C.J. Todd Tells of the Big Fire That Followed the Flood
A Public Spirit Manifest That is Hard to Down
(Santa Cruz Sentinel March 14, 1914)
Soldiers’ Home, March 11, 1914
Ed. “Sentinel”: - For a normally dead town, Sawtelle of late has become rather a lively corpse.
Only recently submerged by the great dam burst, it has been busily engaged digging itself out of
the salt deposits. A few mornings since we were aroused by the clang of the police fire bell down
in the burg, and looked out to see the flames lighting up the southeastern portion of the residence
district, where a residence was going up in flames.
Later on the same morning we were electrified with the intelligence that a woman, in attempting
to Pankhurst a civil citizen with a six shooter, by some means got hold of the wrong end of the
gun, and when she pulled trigger the fool thing exploded in the direction of her body and she let
go and stopped her argument long enough to go dead. The man is still cowering, expecting her to
rise up and resume the argument.
A hot fire, attempting murder and suicide all in the space of a few minutes is not so slow; but this
morning about four o’clock the fire bell again routed us out before our morning beauty sleep had
been finished. When we sauntered down to see what the racket meant we were surprised to be
confronted with the loss of an entire block, melted from the corner of Fourth and Oregon Ave.
Commencing at the corner of Fourth and Indiana Ave., going east to Oregon, every building had
vanished. Only a few brick walls were left standing to mark where yesterday was a fine
prosperous business community, this morning a bed of smoking ruins.
The buildings at the corner of Indiana were owned by a Mr. Alton, and were uninsured. The
principal part of the remainder, including the Bank of Santa Monica, were owned by the Pacific
Land and Water Co. A clothing store and the National Drug Company’s store were the heaviest
losers.
The bank building was gutted, the walls left standing. Within two hours they had rented a room
on the opposite side of the street and hung out a card saying they would open for business at the
�usual hour this morning. It takes more than a fire to down these fellows. Like Banquo’s ghost
they bob up serenely and are on the job with no loss of time. On Oregon Avenue the merchants,
save one or two places, saved their stock and will resume business at once. Vacant rooms on the
opposite side of the streets were taken at once and preparations for a new start were being made
before the bank’s burglars alarm had ceased its clamor. Sawtelle, what is left is sure on the map.
C.J. TODD
***
LETTER FROM THE SOLDIERS’ HOME
(Santa Cruz Sentinel May 21, 1914)
Ed. “Sentinel”: - For days the sun has been obscured by the high fog till it seems like a huge
kettle with a blue lining had been flopped over us. The distant mountains, bathed in ultramarine,
Seem drifting away o’er a violet field.
Suffused in deep azure, they dreamily stand,
A delicate etching on an amethyst shield.
The weatherman says rain, and the granger says, dare you, and keeps on mowing down fields of
hay. Still, it’s a question who’ll win out, but if it fails to rain threatening is no good. It would
seem good to sit again ‘neath the sanitary Campanile and view the young moon pillowing her chin
on the edge of a little cloud while sinking to sleep in the west.
Meanwhile changes go on and the Mexicans keep practicing their favorite pastime- murder and
pillage. Capt. Murray, our efficient commissioner of substance, is busy organizing a company to
be ready if called for service. The captain is a retired regular, and with our very efficient
bandmaster, William Osterman, has received letters of warning that their services may soon be
called for.
A new pool table has just arrived for the south attic parlor that is being fitted up for the use of the
hospital employees, principally the doctors. A fine new victrola, under the management of Major
Winship, makes musical entertainment for the sick men in the wards. Appropriations for two new
$50,000 barracks, after the pattern of the old men’s quarters, have just been placed; all of which
shows this home is to be made the great concentration point for the future. Several of the national
homes are running so low that discontinuance is in the near future. Many of the old men will be
shipped out here. Surgeon General Miller declares men will live from 10 to 15 years longer here
than at any other place in the country. President Taft told the men when he was here that they
lived too long for their own good, as he could prove by the real estate men of Los Angeles
C.J. TODD
Soldiers’ Home.
***
LETTER FROM THE SOLDIERS’ HOME
(Santa Cruz Sentinel February 3, 1918)
Ed. “Sentinel”: - The holidays found us in our usual fine condition, blessed with health and
amply provided with all the necessaries of life. True, we have Hooverized to some extent, but still
our bounty is liberal and fully ample for all our needs.
�Our meatless days are proving a real blessing. Health conditions show that we are better from a
slightly restricted flesh died. It has long been my opinion that we ate more than was good for us.
Thanksgiving dinner was after the usual government regulation- turkey with its accompanying
condiments minus a few non-essentials, such as nuts and candy. Christmas and New Year falling
upon Mr. Hoover’s tabooed meatless days, that thick-set redoubtable economist stood to his guns,
declaring turkey shouldn’t gobble in our faces on those special days.
But our commissary, Capt. Miller is an old one- he’s been there. The birds he found turned out
to be just good fat chickens, and the band plays right on, and the old Blues smilingly sampled the
birds while keeping time to the music with the remaining foot.
Health conditions in the home have been of the very best; no epidemic having paid us a visit for a
long time. Age and superannuation continue doing business at their usual rate.
Pension payment occurred on Dec. 26. This is the first time since my brief sojourn here that the
payment failed to reach us before Christmas. Also, it is the first time payment has been made in
paper currency. This caught the treasurer’s office in a sudden bite, it being short of currency
experts to handle the bills. The pile of $200,000 produced an attack of “buck ague” that caused
them to be three hours late in beginning payments. The discovery of some wrong counts halted
them while the envelopes of several companies were recounted.
Various shootings and cuttings have already been reported from the effect of entanglements with
old John, but it is yet too early to predict what will be the harvest from the various sources of bug
juice.
If Father Ricard is really running the rain business he must have reneged in his deal. The
Southland has failed to get a hand in the rain game. Where’s that Chinaman with his warty toad
that was giving the old weather wise such a keen chase, a while back?
The air here is as warm as midsummer, the sky without a cloud fleck and the country dry enough
to strike fire from the flash of a lightning bug. Farmers have plowed their ground and are waiting
the coming of rain, which seems to have no intention of appearing. Must old Jupiter Pluvius gone
out of business down her, do you think?
Los Angeles and Santa Monica have voted to go dry, but it seems to have been useless labor.
Bootlegging was bad enough before.
C.J. TODD
***
THE END
�THE COMPILER
Robert L Nelson
Robert Nelson was born in Spokane, Washington in 1937 and attended nearby Eastern
Washington University. Following his graduation in 1959 he was commissioned a 2nd Lieutenant
th
in the US Army and served in Germany as a platoon leader with the 11 Armored Cavalry
Regiment. Following military service Robert Nelson began a career in procurement with IBM
Corporation in San Jose, California. An interest in theology led to his completing an MA degree
at the Graduate Theological Union in Berkeley, California in 1982. Upon retiring from IBM in
1987 “nels”, as he is also known, worked with volunteer groups as an educational consultant.
While researching Santa Cruz, California military history he developed an interest in the county’s
veterans and their organizations. His first book, “Old Soldier” published in 2004, recounted the
story of the Grand Army of the Republic and the Civil War veterans living in Santa Cruz,
California. “Remembering Our Own”, published in 2010 was written to honor the 460 men and
two women from that county who died while serving on active duty during a period of war.
Robert Nelson is married and remains active in Santa Cruz veteran affairs.
�
Dublin Core
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Title
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Santa Cruz History Articles
Description
An account of the resource
Original articles by library staff and by local authors and material from historical books.
Articles on Santa Cruz County history, many with illustrations, are available here.
The Santa Cruz Public Libraries is grateful to our local historians and their publishers for giving permission to include their articles. The content of the articles is the responsibility of the individual authors.
It is the library's intent to provide accurate information. However, it is not possible to completely verify the accuracy of individual articles obtained from a variety of sources. If you believe that factual statements in an article are incorrect and can provide documentation, please contact the library.
Publisher
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Santa Cruz Public Libraries
Document
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Original Format
If the image is of an object, state the type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data
Digital file
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
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Three comrades: the remembrances, poems and letters of three comrades in the Grand Army of the Republic
Subject
The topic of the resource
Grand Army of the Republic
Wars-Civil War
Kane, Andrew
Blaisdell, Isaac
Todd, Caleb
Description
An account of the resource
This is a compilation of the writings of three local Civil War veterans that appeared in the Santa Cruz Sentinel newspaper. In their writings Andrew Kane, Isaac Blaisdell and Caleb Todd share their remembrances, feelings and observations.
Compiled by Robert L. Nelson
Contents: Remembrances of the War by Andrew H. Kane -- The Voice of the GAR by Isaac L. Blaisdell -- Life at the Soldiers Home by Caleb J. Todd.
Creator
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Nelson, Robert
Kane, Andrew
Blaisdell, Isaac
Todd, Caleb
Publisher
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Santa Cruz Public Libraries
Date
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2014
Format
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Text
Language
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En
Type
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ARTICLE
Identifier
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AR-224
Coverage
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Santa Cruz (County)
1880s
1890s
1900s
Rights
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Reproduced by permission of Robert L. Nelson.
Biography
County at War
-
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
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Remembering Our Own: Santa Cruz Veterans
Creator
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Nelson, Robert
Rights
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Reproduced by permission of Robert L. Nelson and The Santa Cruz Museum of Art and History.
Source
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Nelson, Robert L. Remembering Our Own: the Santa Cruz County military roll of honor 1861-2010. Santa Cruz, CA: The Museum of Art & History, c2010.
Nelson, Robert L. Old Soldier: the story of the Grand Army of the Republic in Santa Cruz County. Santa Cruz, CA: The Museum of Art & History, c2004.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
Santa Cruz Public Libraries
Description
An account of the resource
Biographies of military personnel from Santa Cruz County.
The majority of this collection is compiled from the work of local researcher Robert L. Nelson. The information is taken from his two books, "Old Soldier: the story of the Grand Army of the Republic in Santa Cruz County" and "Remembering Our Own" the Santa Cruz County military roll of honor 1861-2010."
For more information about this collection see the <a href="/omeka/about-the-remembering-our-own-collection">About page "Remembering Our Own</a>."<br /><br />Copies of "Remembering Our Own" are available through the Santa Cruz Museum of Art & History.
Also included in this collection are video recordings of interviews with American war veterans. These interviews were conducted as part of the Library of Congress Veterans History Project.
Oral History
A resource containing historical information obtained in interviews with persons having firsthand knowledge.
Interviewer
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Jeanne Czarnecki
Interviewee
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Dirk West
Location
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Downtown Branch, Santa Cruz Public Libraries
Original Format
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MP4 video
Duration
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109 min.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Identifier
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VH-WEST
Title
A name given to the resource
Veterans History Project: An Interview with Dirk West
Subject
The topic of the resource
West, Dirk
Veterans
Wars-World War II
Description
An account of the resource
<iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/d9vi3VaEe9I" frameborder="0"></iframe>
Library of Congress Veterans History Project
Interview conducted by Jeanne Czarnecki and produced by Jennifer Cockerill. Recorded at the Downtown Branch, Santa Cruz Public Libraries, August 19, 2014.
Born in Virginia, Minnesota in 1926, Dirk West served in the United States Army from 15 November 1944 to 15 August 1946 in World War II. He was in the 8th Division, trained at Camp Hood, Texas, and was assigned to the Military Police at Le Havre, France. One of his assignments was to guard German prisoners. He received the following medals and ribbons: Good Conduct Medal, Army Occupation Medal (Germany), European-African-Middle Eastern Theater Ribbon, and WWII Victory Ribbon. He reached the rank of Sergeant Military Police.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
West, Dirk
Czarnecki, Jeanne
Cockerill, Jennifer
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
Santa Cruz Public Libraries
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
8/19/2014
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Video
Language
A language of the resource
En
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
MOVING IMAGE
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Santa Cruz (County)
2010s
1940s
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
Permission must be obtained before using the interview or other materials in exhibition or publication. Researchers or others who would like to make further use of these materials should contact Santa Cruz Public Libraries for assistance.
Relation
A related resource
<a href="https://memory.loc.gov/diglib/vhp/bib/loc.natlib.afc2001001.97809">Library of Congress Veterans History Project</a>
Biography
County at War
-
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Remembering Our Own: Santa Cruz Veterans
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Nelson, Robert
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
Reproduced by permission of Robert L. Nelson and The Santa Cruz Museum of Art and History.
Source
A related resource from which the described resource is derived
Nelson, Robert L. Remembering Our Own: the Santa Cruz County military roll of honor 1861-2010. Santa Cruz, CA: The Museum of Art & History, c2010.
Nelson, Robert L. Old Soldier: the story of the Grand Army of the Republic in Santa Cruz County. Santa Cruz, CA: The Museum of Art & History, c2004.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
Santa Cruz Public Libraries
Description
An account of the resource
Biographies of military personnel from Santa Cruz County.
The majority of this collection is compiled from the work of local researcher Robert L. Nelson. The information is taken from his two books, "Old Soldier: the story of the Grand Army of the Republic in Santa Cruz County" and "Remembering Our Own" the Santa Cruz County military roll of honor 1861-2010."
For more information about this collection see the <a href="/omeka/about-the-remembering-our-own-collection">About page "Remembering Our Own</a>."<br /><br />Copies of "Remembering Our Own" are available through the Santa Cruz Museum of Art & History.
Also included in this collection are video recordings of interviews with American war veterans. These interviews were conducted as part of the Library of Congress Veterans History Project.
Oral History
A resource containing historical information obtained in interviews with persons having firsthand knowledge.
Interviewer
The person(s) performing the interview.
Jeanne Czarnecki
Interviewee
The person(s) being interviewed.
Robert Tracy
Location
The location of the interview.
Dominican Oaks, Santa Cruz
Original Format
If the image is of an object, state the type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data
MP4 video
Duration
Length of time involved (seconds, minutes, hours, days, class periods, etc.)
31 min.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
VH-TRACY
Title
A name given to the resource
Veterans History Project: An Interview with Robert Tracy
Subject
The topic of the resource
Tracy, Robert
Veterans
Wars-World War II
Description
An account of the resource
<iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/g1utZv8hJv4" frameborder="0"></iframe>
Library of Congress Veterans History Project
Interview conducted by Jeanne Czarnecki and produced by Jennifer Cockerill. Recorded at Dominican Oaks, Santa Cruz, CA, April 1, 2014.
Born in Joliet, Illinois, Robert M. Tracy served in the Navy from 1943 to 1946, as part of the USS LCU-34 (Landing Craft Unit) in Urbana (Illinois), San Diego, Oceanside, Fort Ord and Morro Bay (California) and Caroline Islands (Ulithi). He was promoted to the rank of Motor Machinist's Mate Second Class, and decorated with Asiatic Pacific Campaign Medal and Good Conduct Medal. Tracy also joined the Korean War from 1950 to 1952, serving on the USS AH16 (Hospital Ship) in Inchon, Chinampo, and Pusan, and participating in the evacuation of West Coast Korea. He reached the rank of Store Keeper First Class.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Tracy, Robert
Czarnecki, Jeanne
Cockerill, Jennifer
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
Santa Cruz Public Libraries
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
4/1/2014
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Video
Language
A language of the resource
En
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
MOVING IMAGE
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Santa Cruz (County)
2010s
1940s
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
Permission must be obtained before using the interview or other materials in exhibition or publication. Researchers or others who would like to make further use of these materials should contact Santa Cruz Public Libraries for assistance.
Relation
A related resource
<a href="https://memory.loc.gov/diglib/vhp/bib/loc.natlib.afc2001001.95669">Library of Congress Veterans History Project</a>
Biography
County at War
-
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Remembering Our Own: Santa Cruz Veterans
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Nelson, Robert
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
Reproduced by permission of Robert L. Nelson and The Santa Cruz Museum of Art and History.
Source
A related resource from which the described resource is derived
Nelson, Robert L. Remembering Our Own: the Santa Cruz County military roll of honor 1861-2010. Santa Cruz, CA: The Museum of Art & History, c2010.
Nelson, Robert L. Old Soldier: the story of the Grand Army of the Republic in Santa Cruz County. Santa Cruz, CA: The Museum of Art & History, c2004.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
Santa Cruz Public Libraries
Description
An account of the resource
Biographies of military personnel from Santa Cruz County.
The majority of this collection is compiled from the work of local researcher Robert L. Nelson. The information is taken from his two books, "Old Soldier: the story of the Grand Army of the Republic in Santa Cruz County" and "Remembering Our Own" the Santa Cruz County military roll of honor 1861-2010."
For more information about this collection see the <a href="/omeka/about-the-remembering-our-own-collection">About page "Remembering Our Own</a>."<br /><br />Copies of "Remembering Our Own" are available through the Santa Cruz Museum of Art & History.
Also included in this collection are video recordings of interviews with American war veterans. These interviews were conducted as part of the Library of Congress Veterans History Project.
Oral History
A resource containing historical information obtained in interviews with persons having firsthand knowledge.
Interviewer
The person(s) performing the interview.
Jeanne Czarnecki
Interviewee
The person(s) being interviewed.
Kenneth Stewart
Location
The location of the interview.
Downtown Branch, Santa Cruz Public Libraries
Original Format
If the image is of an object, state the type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data
MP4 video
Duration
Length of time involved (seconds, minutes, hours, days, class periods, etc.)
67 min.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
VH-STEWART
Title
A name given to the resource
Veterans History Project: An Interview with Kenneth Stewart
Subject
The topic of the resource
Stewart, Kenneth
Veterans
Wars-Vietnam War
Description
An account of the resource
<iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/lmJ5ThOXnEk" frameborder="0"></iframe>
Library of Congress Veterans History Project
Interview conducted by Jeanne Czarnecki and produced by Jennifer Cockerill. Recorded at the Downtown Branch, Santa Cruz Public Libraries, May 13, 2014.
Kenneth M. Stewart is a Montgomery native, born and raised in Alabama. He served in the United States Air Force beginning in 1968 at the United States Air Force Academy in Colorado, Beale Air Force Base in California, U-Tapao Royal Thai Air Force Base and Korat Royal Thai Air Force Base in Thailand, Loring Air Force Base in Maine, and the Pentagon in Washington, D.C. He served as a pilot for two tours during the Vietnam War and was part of the 744th, and 456th Bombardment Squadrons, the 42nd Tactical Electronic Warfare Squadron, and the 42nd Bombardment Wing. He participated in Operation Arc Light in Vietnam. Stewart is a highly decorated veteran, receiving medals such as, American Defense Service Medal (ADSM), AFCM (Air Force Commendation Medal), DFC (Distinguished Flying Cross), JSAM (Joint Service Achievement Medal), Vietnam Campaign Medal, and Vietnam Service Medal. He reached the rank of Major.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Stewart, Kenneth
Czarnecki, Jeanne
Cockerill, Jennifer
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
Santa Cruz Public Libraries
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
5/13/2014
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Video
Language
A language of the resource
En
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
MOVING IMAGE
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Santa Cruz (County)
2010s
1960s
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
Permission must be obtained before using the interview or other materials in exhibition or publication. Researchers or others who would like to make further use of these materials should contact Santa Cruz Public Libraries for assistance.
Relation
A related resource
<a href="https://memory.loc.gov/diglib/vhp/bib/loc.natlib.afc2001001.97811">Library of Congress Veterans History Project</a>
Biography
County at War
-
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Remembering Our Own: Santa Cruz Veterans
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Nelson, Robert
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
Reproduced by permission of Robert L. Nelson and The Santa Cruz Museum of Art and History.
Source
A related resource from which the described resource is derived
Nelson, Robert L. Remembering Our Own: the Santa Cruz County military roll of honor 1861-2010. Santa Cruz, CA: The Museum of Art & History, c2010.
Nelson, Robert L. Old Soldier: the story of the Grand Army of the Republic in Santa Cruz County. Santa Cruz, CA: The Museum of Art & History, c2004.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
Santa Cruz Public Libraries
Description
An account of the resource
Biographies of military personnel from Santa Cruz County.
The majority of this collection is compiled from the work of local researcher Robert L. Nelson. The information is taken from his two books, "Old Soldier: the story of the Grand Army of the Republic in Santa Cruz County" and "Remembering Our Own" the Santa Cruz County military roll of honor 1861-2010."
For more information about this collection see the <a href="/omeka/about-the-remembering-our-own-collection">About page "Remembering Our Own</a>."<br /><br />Copies of "Remembering Our Own" are available through the Santa Cruz Museum of Art & History.
Also included in this collection are video recordings of interviews with American war veterans. These interviews were conducted as part of the Library of Congress Veterans History Project.
Oral History
A resource containing historical information obtained in interviews with persons having firsthand knowledge.
Interviewer
The person(s) performing the interview.
Jeanne Czarnecki
Interviewee
The person(s) being interviewed.
Howard Sosbee
Location
The location of the interview.
Downtown Branch, Santa Cruz Public Libraries
Original Format
If the image is of an object, state the type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data
MP4 video
Duration
Length of time involved (seconds, minutes, hours, days, class periods, etc.)
190 min.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
VH-SOSBEE
Title
A name given to the resource
Veterans History Project: An Interview with Howard Sosbee
Subject
The topic of the resource
Sosbee, Howard
Veterans
Wars-World War II
Description
An account of the resource
<iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/an_lXhv8Ddo" frameborder="0"></iframe>
Library of Congress Veterans History Project
Interview conducted by Jeanne Czarnecki and produced by Jennifer Cockerill. Recorded at the Downtown Branch, Santa Cruz Public Libraries, November 4, 2014.
Born in Tulsa, Oklahoma in 1923, Howard F. Sosbee served in the United States Air Corps from 1943-1946 during World War II, as a navigator as well as a cannon loader on a B-25 Mitchell medium bomber in the 82nd Squadron, and 12th Bomb Group of the 10th Air Force. He was stationed at Fenny Airfield in Bangladesh and participated in the Burma Campaign in the South-East Asian Theatre from Myitkyina to Rangoon in support of the British 14th Army. In addition to the bombing missions, his crew air-dropped supplies to support the Australian and New Zealand Army Corps (ANZAC) ground troops. He received the Air Medal with cluster and reached the rank of Captain.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Sosbee, Howard
Czarnecki, Jeanne
Cockerill, Jennifer
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
Santa Cruz Public Libraries
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
11/4/2014
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Video
Language
A language of the resource
En
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
MOVING IMAGE
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Santa Cruz (County)
2010s
1940s
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
Permission must be obtained before using the interview or other materials in exhibition or publication. Researchers or others who would like to make further use of these materials should contact Santa Cruz Public Libraries for assistance.
Relation
A related resource
<a href="https://memory.loc.gov/diglib/vhp/bib/loc.natlib.afc2001001.99992">Library of Congress Veterans History Project</a>
Biography
County at War
-
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Remembering Our Own: Santa Cruz Veterans
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Nelson, Robert
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
Reproduced by permission of Robert L. Nelson and The Santa Cruz Museum of Art and History.
Source
A related resource from which the described resource is derived
Nelson, Robert L. Remembering Our Own: the Santa Cruz County military roll of honor 1861-2010. Santa Cruz, CA: The Museum of Art & History, c2010.
Nelson, Robert L. Old Soldier: the story of the Grand Army of the Republic in Santa Cruz County. Santa Cruz, CA: The Museum of Art & History, c2004.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
Santa Cruz Public Libraries
Description
An account of the resource
Biographies of military personnel from Santa Cruz County.
The majority of this collection is compiled from the work of local researcher Robert L. Nelson. The information is taken from his two books, "Old Soldier: the story of the Grand Army of the Republic in Santa Cruz County" and "Remembering Our Own" the Santa Cruz County military roll of honor 1861-2010."
For more information about this collection see the <a href="/omeka/about-the-remembering-our-own-collection">About page "Remembering Our Own</a>."<br /><br />Copies of "Remembering Our Own" are available through the Santa Cruz Museum of Art & History.
Also included in this collection are video recordings of interviews with American war veterans. These interviews were conducted as part of the Library of Congress Veterans History Project.
Oral History
A resource containing historical information obtained in interviews with persons having firsthand knowledge.
Interviewer
The person(s) performing the interview.
Jeanne Czarnecki
Interviewee
The person(s) being interviewed.
Robert Shippen
Location
The location of the interview.
Headquarters, Santa Cruz Public Libraries
Original Format
If the image is of an object, state the type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data
MP4 video
Duration
Length of time involved (seconds, minutes, hours, days, class periods, etc.)
120 min.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
VH-SHIPPEN
Title
A name given to the resource
Veterans History Project: An Interview with Robert Shippen
Subject
The topic of the resource
Shippen, Robert
Veterans
Wars-Vietnam War
Description
An account of the resource
<iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/qYUn0bOTNUY" frameborder="0"></iframe>
Library of Congress Veterans History Project
Interview conducted by Jeanne Czarnecki and produced by Jennifer Cockerill. Recorded at Headquarters, Santa Cruz Public Libraries, June 30, 2015.
Raised in rural Alabama and Georgia, Robert Edward Lee Shippen had a typically Southern childhood, with many family members having served in the armed forces during World War II. In 1966, Shippen enlisted in the army. Signing up as Airborne Unassigned, he received training in light weapons and attended both paratrooper and officer candidate school. After passing the Special Forces Intelligence test, he started his year-long training for academic medicine and combatant. In December 1967, he arrived in Cam Ranh Bay, Vietnam. As an army medic, he performed many life-saving procedures, treated burns, shrapnel punctures, and chest wounds. During the army's "secret war" in Cambodia, Shippen rescued hundreds of refugees. For his military service, he received many medals of honor, among which are a Combat Medics Badge, a Bronze Star and a Purple Heart. He reached the rank of E5 - Sergeant (Army). Shippen's tour of duty ended in December 1968, but re-enlisted in the army two years later to become a military diver specializing in hyperbaric chamber operations in Okinawa, the Philippines and Korea. He eventually settled in Santa Cruz, California to begin counseling veterans with PTSD at his nonprofit counseling center.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Shippen, Robert
Czarnecki, Jeanne
Cockerill, Jennifer
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
Santa Cruz Public Libraries
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
6/30/2015
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Video
Language
A language of the resource
En
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
MOVING IMAGE
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Santa Cruz (County)
2010s
1960s
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
Permission must be obtained before using the interview or other materials in exhibition or publication. Researchers or others who would like to make further use of these materials should contact Santa Cruz Public Libraries for assistance.
Relation
A related resource
<a href="https://memory.loc.gov/diglib/vhp/bib/loc.natlib.afc2001001.102098">Library of Congress Veterans History Project</a>
Biography
County at War
-
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Remembering Our Own: Santa Cruz Veterans
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Nelson, Robert
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
Reproduced by permission of Robert L. Nelson and The Santa Cruz Museum of Art and History.
Source
A related resource from which the described resource is derived
Nelson, Robert L. Remembering Our Own: the Santa Cruz County military roll of honor 1861-2010. Santa Cruz, CA: The Museum of Art & History, c2010.
Nelson, Robert L. Old Soldier: the story of the Grand Army of the Republic in Santa Cruz County. Santa Cruz, CA: The Museum of Art & History, c2004.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
Santa Cruz Public Libraries
Description
An account of the resource
Biographies of military personnel from Santa Cruz County.
The majority of this collection is compiled from the work of local researcher Robert L. Nelson. The information is taken from his two books, "Old Soldier: the story of the Grand Army of the Republic in Santa Cruz County" and "Remembering Our Own" the Santa Cruz County military roll of honor 1861-2010."
For more information about this collection see the <a href="/omeka/about-the-remembering-our-own-collection">About page "Remembering Our Own</a>."<br /><br />Copies of "Remembering Our Own" are available through the Santa Cruz Museum of Art & History.
Also included in this collection are video recordings of interviews with American war veterans. These interviews were conducted as part of the Library of Congress Veterans History Project.
Oral History
A resource containing historical information obtained in interviews with persons having firsthand knowledge.
Interviewer
The person(s) performing the interview.
Jeanne Czarnecki
Interviewee
The person(s) being interviewed.
David Rosenthal
Location
The location of the interview.
Dominican Oaks, Santa Cruz
Original Format
If the image is of an object, state the type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data
MP4 video
Duration
Length of time involved (seconds, minutes, hours, days, class periods, etc.)
34 min.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
VH-ROSENTHAL
Title
A name given to the resource
Veterans History Project: An Interview with David Rosenthal
Subject
The topic of the resource
Rosenthal, David
Veterans
Wars-World War II
Description
An account of the resource
<iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/HnKktvyMQNQ" frameborder="0"></iframe>
Library of Congress Veterans History Project
Interview conducted by Jeanne Czarnecki and produced by Jennifer Cockerill. Recorded at Dominican Oaks, Santa Cruz, March 25, 2014.
David H. Rosenthal is a San Jose native, born and raised in California. He entered into active service from 1940 to 1946. As part of Marine Corps, he served in the First Marine Provisional Brigade and the Second Marine Division in San Diego, California, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, New Zealand, Guam (Mariana Islands), and Russell Islands. He fought in the Pacific Theater, and participated in the Battle of Guam. Rosenthal reached the rank of captain.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Rosenthal, David
Czarnecki, Jeanne
Cockerill, Jennifer
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
Santa Cruz Public Libraries
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
3/25/2014
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Video
Language
A language of the resource
En
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
MOVING IMAGE
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Santa Cruz (County)
2010s
1940s
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
Permission must be obtained before using the interview or other materials in exhibition or publication. Researchers or others who would like to make further use of these materials should contact Santa Cruz Public Libraries for assistance.
Relation
A related resource
<a href="https://memory.loc.gov/diglib/vhp/bib/loc.natlib.afc2001001.95670">Library of Congress Veterans History Project</a>
Biography
County at War
-
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Remembering Our Own: Santa Cruz Veterans
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Nelson, Robert
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
Reproduced by permission of Robert L. Nelson and The Santa Cruz Museum of Art and History.
Source
A related resource from which the described resource is derived
Nelson, Robert L. Remembering Our Own: the Santa Cruz County military roll of honor 1861-2010. Santa Cruz, CA: The Museum of Art & History, c2010.
Nelson, Robert L. Old Soldier: the story of the Grand Army of the Republic in Santa Cruz County. Santa Cruz, CA: The Museum of Art & History, c2004.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
Santa Cruz Public Libraries
Description
An account of the resource
Biographies of military personnel from Santa Cruz County.
The majority of this collection is compiled from the work of local researcher Robert L. Nelson. The information is taken from his two books, "Old Soldier: the story of the Grand Army of the Republic in Santa Cruz County" and "Remembering Our Own" the Santa Cruz County military roll of honor 1861-2010."
For more information about this collection see the <a href="/omeka/about-the-remembering-our-own-collection">About page "Remembering Our Own</a>."<br /><br />Copies of "Remembering Our Own" are available through the Santa Cruz Museum of Art & History.
Also included in this collection are video recordings of interviews with American war veterans. These interviews were conducted as part of the Library of Congress Veterans History Project.
Oral History
A resource containing historical information obtained in interviews with persons having firsthand knowledge.
Interviewer
The person(s) performing the interview.
Jeanne Czarnecki
Interviewee
The person(s) being interviewed.
Robert Roninger
Location
The location of the interview.
Roninger Residence, Ben Lomond, CA
Original Format
If the image is of an object, state the type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data
MP4 video
Duration
Length of time involved (seconds, minutes, hours, days, class periods, etc.)
36 min.
Time Summary
A summary of an interview given for different time stamps throughout the interview
00:30 introduction; born in St. Louis, Missouri, February 23, 1917; recently celebrated 100 year birthday
1:50 prior to enlistment, worked in family grocery store, manufactured bullets for Remington Arms Company, and worked as an auto mechanic
2:40 enlisted in Army Air Corps in 1942 at age 26; WWII in progress; joined Air Corps to become a pilot; could not qualify due to colorblindness and airsickness
3:15 first military post was Las Vegas; sent to Indian Springs, Nevada where he received air-to-air gunnery training and worked as aircraft mechanic on B17 and B24 aircraft
4:05 assigned to military base near Cairo, Egypt; stationed in Egypt for approximately 16 months as aircraft mechanic; supplies were transported via cargo ships from air base to troops in North Africa; squadron lived in tents, ate dehydrated food; it was 120 degrees in the shade
7:16 he saw very little combat while in North Africa
7:57 remained in contact with home through letters; had a wife and two sons at home
9:06 R&R in Egypt included visiting the Pyramids & Sphinx; he walked the Nile River and saw Moses’ bulrushes; troop mostly confined to Barracks because of war in desert
10:25 was released from service and adapted well to civilian life; he lived in parents basement in Denver, CO and had a nice reception home
11:00 he remained in contact with two Air Corps friends after military service
11:35 he joined The American Legion and was commander of two posts
12:30 did not receive service medals or stripes for service and remained at rank of private for four years; none of the 20 men in his squadron were given stripes despite being told they would after six months
14:32 following release he spent four years in National Guard earning $20 per month including longevity pay
14:52 following service he obtained two aircraft engineer licenses and worked as a mechanic at Denver Sky Ranch airport and Garden City, Kansas airport
17:24 prior to enlistment in the Air Corps he and his brother both served in the National Guard; his brother later served in the Army with General Patton in North Africa, Germany, and Japan and retired as a colonel after 20 years
22:38 in Egypt he learned basic Arabic phrases to converse with civilians; occasionally he spoke a little Arabic with an Egyptian man in Ben Lomond; recalls that American soldiers were referred to by the Egyptians as “The Rich Yanks”
24:30 he was relocated to California by his employer, a gas utility company in Colorado; he worked for a water utility company; he arrived in Boulder Creek in 1959 and has resided at his current address for 50 years
26:50 one of his two sons served in the National Guard; no other children served in the military
27:58 he does not think his military service has affected his life
29:38 recalls stealing canned sea rations from cargo; canned food was far superior to the everyday rations for soldiers
31:08 photos from large personal collection shared [samples shown on camera]; photos represent members of his military squadron, airplanes painted with female pinups, photos of the Egyptian pyramids and sphinx
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
VH-RONINGER
Title
A name given to the resource
Veterans History Project: An Interview with Robert Roninger
Subject
The topic of the resource
Roninger, Robert
Veterans
Wars-World War II
Description
An account of the resource
<iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/BgyOFxkJLWI" frameborder="0"></iframe>
Library of Congress Veterans History Project
Interview conducted by Jeanne Czarnecki and produced by David Addison. Recorded at the Roninger residence, Ben Lomond, CA, April 3, 2017.
Born in St. Louis, MO, on 29 February 1917, Robert Hugh Roninger, Sr. enlisted in the U.S. Amy Air Corps in September 1942. Trained as airplane mechanic and posted to bases in Las Vegas and Indian Springs, NV, he learned to maintain B17 and B24 aircraft. Roninger was commissioned to an airbase near Cairo, Egypt. He worked for 16 months on C46 and C47 aircraft supplying materials from cargo ships to troops in North Africa. Before and after military service, Roninger served in the National Guard. In his civilian life, he was a licensed airplane mechanic and worked at Sky Ranch Airport, Denver, CO and Garden City Regional Airport in KS. He worked for gas and water utility company in Colorado and California. Living in Ben Lomond, Santa Cruz County, Roninger has turned 100.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Roninger, Robert
Czarnecki, Jeanne
Addison, David
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
Santa Cruz Public Libraries
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
4/3/2017
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Video
Language
A language of the resource
En
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
MOVING IMAGE
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Santa Cruz (County)
2010s
1940s
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
Permission must be obtained before using the interview or other materials in exhibition or publication. Researchers or others who would like to make further use of these materials should contact Santa Cruz Public Libraries for assistance.
Relation
A related resource
<a href="https://memory.loc.gov/diglib/vhp/bib/loc.natlib.afc2001001.109502">Library of Congress Veterans History Project</a>
Biography
County at War
-
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Remembering Our Own: Santa Cruz Veterans
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Nelson, Robert
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
Reproduced by permission of Robert L. Nelson and The Santa Cruz Museum of Art and History.
Source
A related resource from which the described resource is derived
Nelson, Robert L. Remembering Our Own: the Santa Cruz County military roll of honor 1861-2010. Santa Cruz, CA: The Museum of Art & History, c2010.
Nelson, Robert L. Old Soldier: the story of the Grand Army of the Republic in Santa Cruz County. Santa Cruz, CA: The Museum of Art & History, c2004.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
Santa Cruz Public Libraries
Description
An account of the resource
Biographies of military personnel from Santa Cruz County.
The majority of this collection is compiled from the work of local researcher Robert L. Nelson. The information is taken from his two books, "Old Soldier: the story of the Grand Army of the Republic in Santa Cruz County" and "Remembering Our Own" the Santa Cruz County military roll of honor 1861-2010."
For more information about this collection see the <a href="/omeka/about-the-remembering-our-own-collection">About page "Remembering Our Own</a>."<br /><br />Copies of "Remembering Our Own" are available through the Santa Cruz Museum of Art & History.
Also included in this collection are video recordings of interviews with American war veterans. These interviews were conducted as part of the Library of Congress Veterans History Project.
Oral History
A resource containing historical information obtained in interviews with persons having firsthand knowledge.
Interviewer
The person(s) performing the interview.
Jeanne Czarnecki
Interviewee
The person(s) being interviewed.
Bernice Robertson
Location
The location of the interview.
Dominican Oaks, Santa Cruz
Original Format
If the image is of an object, state the type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data
MP4 video
Duration
Length of time involved (seconds, minutes, hours, days, class periods, etc.)
37 min.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
VH-ROBERTSON
Title
A name given to the resource
Veterans History Project: An Interview with Bernice Robertson
Subject
The topic of the resource
Robertson, Bernice
Veterans
Wars-Korean War
Description
An account of the resource
<iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/gKOJdKCE0yo" frameborder="0"></iframe>
Library of Congress Veterans History Project
Interview conducted by Jeanne Czarnecki and produced by David Addison. Recorded at Dominican Oaks, Santa Cruz, April 12, 2016.
Born in Jersey City, New Jersey in 1927, Bernice Robertson joined the Cadet Nurse Corps after high school. She received three years' comprehensive nursing education, with a specialty in medical-surgical nursing at Philadelphia General Hospital. From June 1948 to December 1952, she served as an ensign in the U.S. Navy Nurse Corps. Her first military assignment was at St. Albans Naval Hospital in New York. Six months later, she was assigned to Oakland Navy Hospital in California. Promoted to junior grade, Robertson was due for overseas duty, but was given an option to study dietetics at George Washington University in DC., because of her father's terminal illness. After completing the program, she was reassigned to Oakland, working as a dietitian to educate enlisted men in weight control behaviors. Robertson reached the rank of Lieutenant Junior Grade (LTJG). She was married to a naval offer and released from military service with her first pregnancy. Once her children were school-aged, she went back to school to earn a B.A. in education and a M.S in medical-surgical nursing. She held various positions in nursing, teaching and consulting at organizations such as San Mateo County Hospital, Stanford University, California Department of Health, Santa Cruz Visiting Nurses Association and Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk. Since May 2015, Robertson has been living in Dominican Oaks, a retirement community in Santa Cruz.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Robertson, Bernice
Czarnecki, Jeanne
Addison, David
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
Santa Cruz Public Libraries
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
4/12/2016
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Video
Language
A language of the resource
En
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
MOVING IMAGE
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Santa Cruz (County)
2010s
1950s
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
Permission must be obtained before using the interview or other materials in exhibition or publication. Researchers or others who would like to make further use of these materials should contact Santa Cruz Public Libraries for assistance.
Relation
A related resource
<a href="https://memory.loc.gov/diglib/vhp/bib/loc.natlib.afc2001001.104705">Library of Congress Veterans History Project</a>
Biography
County at War
-
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Remembering Our Own: Santa Cruz Veterans
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Nelson, Robert
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
Reproduced by permission of Robert L. Nelson and The Santa Cruz Museum of Art and History.
Source
A related resource from which the described resource is derived
Nelson, Robert L. Remembering Our Own: the Santa Cruz County military roll of honor 1861-2010. Santa Cruz, CA: The Museum of Art & History, c2010.
Nelson, Robert L. Old Soldier: the story of the Grand Army of the Republic in Santa Cruz County. Santa Cruz, CA: The Museum of Art & History, c2004.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
Santa Cruz Public Libraries
Description
An account of the resource
Biographies of military personnel from Santa Cruz County.
The majority of this collection is compiled from the work of local researcher Robert L. Nelson. The information is taken from his two books, "Old Soldier: the story of the Grand Army of the Republic in Santa Cruz County" and "Remembering Our Own" the Santa Cruz County military roll of honor 1861-2010."
For more information about this collection see the <a href="/omeka/about-the-remembering-our-own-collection">About page "Remembering Our Own</a>."<br /><br />Copies of "Remembering Our Own" are available through the Santa Cruz Museum of Art & History.
Also included in this collection are video recordings of interviews with American war veterans. These interviews were conducted as part of the Library of Congress Veterans History Project.
Oral History
A resource containing historical information obtained in interviews with persons having firsthand knowledge.
Interviewer
The person(s) performing the interview.
David Addison
Interviewee
The person(s) being interviewed.
Frank Rimicci
Location
The location of the interview.
Downtown Branch, Santa Cruz Public Libraries
Original Format
If the image is of an object, state the type of object, such as painting, sculpture, paper, photo, and additional data
MP4 video
Duration
Length of time involved (seconds, minutes, hours, days, class periods, etc.)
56 min.
Time Summary
A summary of an interview given for different time stamps throughout the interview
1:00 Introduction, place of birth
1:20 Correct pronunciation of last name
1:30 Parents occupation
2:00 Way he joined the Army
3:00 Names of siblings, what they did in the military
4:21 Occupation before the service
5:21 Decision on branch of military to join
5:49 Rank in service
7:59 Able to stay working on the railroads
8:10 Bootcamp experience
9:33 Battalion went on strike over food
10:33 Learned Army way of railroading
11:06 Made rifle sharpshooter
11:50 Stationed at Camp Harahan in New Orleans
12:20 Landed in Omaha Beach, then Normandy
12:54 Sleeping arrangements with tents in Normandy
13:24 With Myron Jones in Chicago and Normandy
14:08 Experience in moving trains
17:16 Looked for George after trains hit
18:11 No bombs exploded after trains hit
18:55 Troops move trains already loaded
19:25 Engine types used on trains
20:30 Transported what ever there was to front lines
20:58 In charge of transporting General Patton’s 4th armored train
22:20 Transported trains all through France
22:39 No combat missions
23:31 Food train experience
25:10 Received French Medal of Honor, 4 Battle Star pin
27:13 Transported train with refugees
28:20 No military protection while running trains
28:28 Picture of brothers and brother-in-law in uniform
29:00 Transported train to Bastogne, France, Battle of the Bulge
31:00 Friends made in France
31:49 No R&R
32:00 Met people from the FFE in Paris
33:06 Able to write letters home
33:27 Branches of the military brothers were in
34:28 Came home on victory ship
35:45 Experience coming home
36:18 Returned to work at the railroad
36:28 Frozen feet in Belgium
37:27 Married, wife wants to visit aunt and uncle in Santa Cruz
38:00 Moved to Santa Cruz
38:29 Uncle left inheritance to children
38:59 Two boys
39:27 Attended military reunions in Chicago. New York, Kentucky and California
40:26 Reunions dwindling due people passing
40:58 Talked about fellow soldiers passing
42:00 How fast the trains ran
43:22 Life member of VFW, quit American Legion
43:47 Meets with fellow soldiers twice monthly
44:43 Describes members of group
45:07 Has peripheral neuropathy
47:05 Never forgets scenes from war
47:40 Feels sorry for soldiers in all wars
47:59 War is hell
48:52 Book with pictures soldiers, bombed railroads
50:38 Picture of soldiers in Germany, he is in one picture
51:20 Advice for future generations: Try not to go to war
52:01 Looks for picture of Billy
53:00 Picture of train accident that Billy was in
54:01 Almost killed by train
55:26 Not easy to run trains
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
VH-RIMICCI
Title
A name given to the resource
Veterans History Project: An Interview with Frank Rimicci
Subject
The topic of the resource
Rimicci, Frank
Veterans
Wars-World War II
Description
An account of the resource
<iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/IHhYoO4LK3o" frameborder="0"></iframe>
Library of Congress Veterans History Project
Interview conducted by David Addison and produced by David Addison. Recorded at the Downtown Branch, Santa Cruz Public Libraries, January 25, 2018.
Born in Chicago, Illinois on January 19, 1924, Frank Rimicci served in the Amy during World War II as a sergeant in the 718th Railway Operation Battalion. One of his main responsibilities in Normandy, France was to move equipment and heavy machinery on the train from the beach to the front line. He was in charge of transporting General Patton's 4th Armored Division Tanks on the train used in the Battle of the Bulge. He served in Strasbourg, Luxembourg, Belgium, Bastogne and Germany. Rimicci received three Overseas Service Bars, an American Campaign Medal, European-American-Middle Eastern Ribbon with 4 Bronze Battle Stars and medals, and French Legion of Honor Medal. After the war, Rimicci settled in Santa Cruz, California, after visiting his wife's aunt and uncle.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Rimicci, Frank
Addison, David
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
Santa Cruz Public Libraries
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1/25/2018
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Video
Language
A language of the resource
En
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
MOVING IMAGE
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Santa Cruz (County)
2010s
1940s
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
Permission must be obtained before using the interview or other materials in exhibition or publication. Researchers or others who would like to make further use of these materials should contact Santa Cruz Public Libraries for assistance.
Biography
County at War