Letters from a Civil War Relative #2: October 27, 1861 from Camp Wildcat

Here is part two in this series of letters from the pension file of my 5 times great-granduncle Joel Stamper, whose son Richard and son-in-law Edward Turner both sent letters that ended up in that file. Both of them also died in the war. 

This letter is the closest to a battle report or military overview as exists in these letters, though other mentions of the enemy occur later. Edward penned this one for Richard.

Camp Wild Cat October the 27^th 1861

Dear Father, I take the opportunity of writing to you to let you know that I am well at this time, hoping that these few lines will find you all injoying these same blessings.

I have something vary interesting to write to you.

I can inform you that on Monday last the 21 of October we had a battle at Camp Wild Cat and we lost 3 killed and 8 wounded and the loss of the Rebels was about 200 on upwards.

On the day before the battle 1,000 men came from Indiana and 1,000 from Ohio and on the day of the battle 1,000 more came from Ohio and brought 6 cannons and on the next day come 1000 more from Ohio and 1600 from East Tennessee. Our strength the day before the battle was about 700 of Garrard’s regiment and about 700 cavalry.

The strength of the enemy was about 7200.

We are a going to start after them on the morning.

John Stamper is gone back to Mt. Vernon but he is on the mend.

I would be glad to see you but am deprived of the privalege at this time but I intend to come home as soon as I can get a furlough.

It is not worth while for you to write to me until I send you another letter when we stop.

So no more at present but remains your affectionate son until death from Richard Stamper to Joel Stamper and family.

The American Battlefield Trust provides more information about this Union victory, and here is some archaeological information about the remains of Camp Wildcat.

Here is one soldier’s view of this contest. 

Photo from Laurel County Historical Society, stored at https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/62812b2c3b43106df0e623a5/b1e5caf1-78d1-499b-a722-a4f434f677ca/1-157.jpg, 

"Garrard" referred to Kentucky politician and Colonel Theophilus T. Garrard, a future Brigadier General.

                                                           Theophilus Garrard, photo from Wikipedia

The John Stamper that Richard mentioned was likely his cousin who was in the same company. Perhaps they both had Richard Stamper Sr. as a grandfather, but I have not yet been able to confirm John's parentage, so that is uncertain. If they were cousins via Richard Sr., that of course means that John is another distant relative for me, so I will have to add him to my list if I verify that tie. John was discharged from the army in April of 1862 for being too weak physically for military duty, so his time "on the mend" apparently did not go too well.

Mt. Vernon, where John had gone, is a city in Rockcastle County, Kentucky, near Garrard County where these men had mustered in at Camp Dick Robinson and not far from Breathitt County, where Richard had been born and lived.

The next entry in this series will be a brief letter from Edward Turner to his family, written on the same day and at the same place as this one.

Letters from a Civil War Relative #1: "All Keen to Start"

This is the first piece of the new project I recently mentioned regarding letters from Richard Stamper, a distant relative of mine who fought in the Civil War.  

This letter, as I’m calling it, is just a single page, or at least an unsigned fragment of a page. I have checked and double checked the file but cannot find any other page that might match up with it, so these few lines are probably all that remain of this message. 

Some of Richard’s letters were written by a soldier named Lewis Reynolds, who had enlisted and mustered in to the same company on the same days and places as Richard. I suspect he wrote this one on Richard’s behalf.

The story of Lewis Reynolds, unrelated to me, is intriguing itself and may require further investigation. At one point, Lewis was in a hospital at Young's Point, Louisiana, the same place where my great-great-great grandfather Nimrod McIntosh, a member of the same company, also visited before his discharge from the army. 

One document in Lewis’ file states that he was discharged from the army due to his suffering from disease including smallpox in September of 1863, but another form claims he died due to chronic diarrhea a few weeks later in October while still in Louisiana. If this is true, that means that all three of the main soldiers whose names appear in this project perished during a period of about 18 months. I guess that’s not impossible given the huge number of casualties during the war, but it still strikes me as strange, or at least unfortunate.

The report of Lewis’ demise, however, is not accurate. A pension index card indicates that Lewis applied for a pension in 1864. Obviously, this would not happen if he were dead. The card made no mention of a date for his widow’s pension.

Additionally, public family trees on ancestry.com show that Lewis lived until 1875. Perhaps in the future I’ll get Lewis’ pension records and try to clarify what happened with him. The military records are simply mistaken in regard to his death, but further study of his life is now another topic to research. He may not have been my family, but his saga still intrigues me as he was clearly a trusted friend of my relative. 

Here is my transcription followed by the actual letter fragment. I don’t believe Richard could write. He had comrades write these letters for him. I believe his brother-in-law Edward Turner wrote this one based on the handwriting and how it looks compared to letters signed by Edward.

The measles every day.

I had to go to the hospital one time 2 days. I was not able to drill. I expect we will start to Barbourville tomorrow or next day. The boys is all keen to start but if we don't go I expect to come home about the 15th of Oct if I am well.

We was mustered in to the service of the United States today.

                        

Both Richard and Edward enlisted in company D of the 7th Kentucky on September 3, 1861, in Booneville, Ky., not far from their homes. This unit was originally called the 3rd Kentucky Infantry but officially switched its designation to the 7th in February of 1862. Some references still include a reference to the "Old 3rd" Infantry due to this change.) 

Richard and Edward mustered in the service on September 22 at Camp Dick Robinson in Garrard County, Kentucky, so it seems that the letter was written that day from that camp. (The same dates apply to Lewis Reynolds as well.)  This is the earliest note of those that still exist, written just days after Kentucky’s legislature had officially ended the state’s attempted neutrality on September 18. The men in the 7th (old 3rd) Kentucky, including these three, were among the earliest Kentucky recruits mustering in for the war. (The 1st and 2nd Kentucky Infantry both formed in Ohio due to Kentucky’s neutrality.)

At this camp, these men likely received training from then Brigadier General George H. Thomas, the future “Rock of Chickamauga.” 

Neither of their files, however, contains any mention of measles or an early trip to the hospital.

Garrard County, KY, location of Camp Dick Robinson

                                         

These movements were a continuation of the contest for control of the Cumberland Gap as the American Battlefield Trust describes. It included a skirmish at Barbourville that had occurred September 19.

Location of Barbourville, Ky

These men would soon see and write more about this period in their home state. Upcoming letters generally focus on the soldier's welfare and inquisitions about their family and friends, but the next one actually discusses the numbers of troops in a battle this regiment fought. 

An Exciting New Personal Project: Letters from a Civil War Ancestor

As I continue my exploration of local Civil War soldiers and their stories, I’m adding another project, one that combines the Civil War with another interest I’ve had for quite a while - genealogy.

I have made a few posts over the years about family members in the war and even have a separate page with some of these names and information on it, but this new undertaking involves a perspective I never expected to find. 

A few months ago, I wrote about Richard Stamper, a distant relative of mine from so long ago. He was a private in company D of the 7th Kentucky Infantry and died on January 8, 1863, from wounds received at the Battle of Chickasaw Bayou late in December of 1862. He was the first member of my family that I knew had served and perished in the war, so this was a sad but fascinating discovery.  

The same cousin who informed me of his story later obtained the pension records of Richard's father Joel. These records include letters home from Richard to Joel as well as a couple from Edward P. Turner, Richard's brother-in-law and a member of the same company. My guess is that the letters were in the same file since they were sent to Joel Stamper back in Owsley County in eastern Kentucky. Joel was also Edward's father-in-law, as Edward had married his daughter (Richard's sister) Delitha, aka Lida.

Location of Owsley County

Like Richard, Edward also died during the war, passing away due to typhoid fever on April 9,1862, at Cumberland Ford, Ky.

As I did not know of any ancestors who had died during the Civil War, so did I also not have any letters or other similar writings from any of my many family members of the past, Civil War veterans or not - no letter collections, diaries, or anything like that. That this one case involves both makes it a treasure of sorts, at least to me.

Some of the letters have standard dates, headings, and greetings, as well as signatures or notations from the sender. Others, however, do not, and this causes some confusion as some letters were longer than one page. I am working on these, trying to figure out which pages belong with which others, at least as accurately as I can. It seems that some pages are simply gone, not part of this file, including the one I thought may have been the most interesting. I'm still hoping to match up some of these pages to others, but that seems unlikely.  I may need to publish some pages as "unknown date and place” or “incomplete,” as it appears that much of this collection is a mishmash of pages from various letters. Oh well. This is still fascinating.

Most that have headings are from southeast Kentucky or northeast Tennessee in late 1861 through mid-1862. I believe all were from that region and time. It’s not exactly the midst of the most famous campaigns of the war, but the Union did gain some success in this area during and just after the timeframe of these letters.

These letters generally ask how family at home is doing and state how the soldiers wish to see friendly faces again. Actual military talk is uncommon, but there are a few brief discussions on such topics.

That’s kind of where I am starting on this, along with trying to read the writing and understand the wording. The authors used phonetic spelling at times, but it is not always clear what the writer meant. Sometimes, though, the meaning is perfectly clear, and I think I can hear relatives I’ve known talking with the accent some of these unique spellings represent. Much of my maternal family - both sides - come from Breathitt County and the surrounding area, such as Owsley County, where farming was the most common way to make a living, one which I believe most of my ancestors there likely held, so I suspect Richard and Edward are fair, or at least reasonable, representatives of my direct ancestors of the time in terms of how they spoke and the language they used. It may be a door into my past, the kind that does not show up on enlistment forms, census records, obituaries or any such common genealogical documents. This is different. It's special.

I must say it’s hard for me to read these “few lines” - a common phrase in these letters - without trying to vocalize them in my head, especially the word “hant.” 

I find it really cool that a couple of these letters are on patriotic letterhead. They do not change the message in the letters but certainly are a nice detail. I wonder if Richard got stationery from sutlers near camp or if he received it from home. 

One example of the stationery.

There is truly a level of personal interest in this work that goes beyond my other research and writing. I am anxious to dig more into it and to share these writings and the stories they tell. I’m undecided if I will correct the spellings or just post them as written. I think making the corrections will make them easier to understand, so I’m leaning that direction, but the authenticity of how they spelled out their thoughts is something I appreciate as well. I’m sure I’ll figure it out eventually, perhaps not consistently from post-to-post, or even sentence-to-sentence, so this might be a challenge. I also don’t know how soon I’ll finish it. I want to enjoy this and not rush through it. I'm not really sure how quickly or slowly this will go. 

The Reveal of the George H. Thomas Statue in Fort Thomas, Kentucky

                                                               

I recently posted some photos from the July 2 ceremony to reveal this statue directly to this site's Facebook page, but I wanted to add just a few words about it and figured it would make a good post.

I enjoyed the ceremony. It started at 2:00 on a beautiful Wednesday afternoon. The sky was mostly blue, with a few clouds sprinkled about, and it was a warm day, with the temperature reaching the mid 80s. As the sun beat down on those in attendance, standing on a small concrete plot where the statue is located, it did become a bit uncomfortable, but the ceremony - even with the usual remarks from the city and others involved in the project - moved quickly enough to avoid any serious issues with the heat. The iced-down water that the organizers had available certainly helped as well.

The city's mayor started the event right on time, which I admit impressed me. So many such ceremonies, meetings, etc., seem to start several minutes late. It was a good omen.

He mentioned that a local man had suggested a statue of General Thomas way back in 2006, but that serious fundraising efforts finally started in 2017 with many people and local groups, including schools, helping to raise money to pay for it. (I have not heard any figures for what the final cost was.) COVID interrupted the process, but the committee persisted and the fruits of their labor finally are on public display. 

He turned the microphone over to local artist Matt Langford, who discussed some of his thinking when coming up with the final design. He noted the cavalry sword was symbolic of Thomas' experience in that branch of the army, and that while he preferred a well-known "US" belt buckle, a comrade convinced him that Thomas’ dress should reflect that he was a general.

He also emphasized the affection that troops under Thomas felt for him. 

One thing that caught me off guard was his use of the word "meek" to describe Thomas. He insisted that "meek" did not necessarily mean "weak," but claimed it referred to a more reserved personality. I did not necessarily agree with this take, but when I got home I checked online definitions of the word and dictionary.com gives one meaning of that word as “humbly patient or quiet in nature, as under provocation from others.” That’s not the first meaning of “meek” that jumps to my mind, but it is from a reasonable source and helps me better understand his comments more than I did at first. I can see how that definition might apply, but I am still not convinced that "meek" is the best word. That is just me picking a nit, I suppose.

That quibble aside, it was nice to hear the artist explain his work. 

His words were followed by a short biography of the general delivered by Deanna Beineke, the director of the Fort Thomas Museum and author of a book on the military post in the city. Her comments were brief, which was nice, as the intensity of the heat in the sea of concrete increased, and she did a good job of giving a high-level overview of Thomas' life, focusing mainly on his family and the success he had at Nashville. She also mentioned his relative lack of fame for the  victories he achieved, though she mentioned his “Rock of Chickamauga” sobriquet. I would have liked to hear Mill Springs or Missionary Ridge at least mentioned, but I thought she did well given the 5-minute time limit on her talk. Nobody could do more in such a brief period.

I really  like the location of the monument. It is on a small concrete area at the corner of two streets (one of which is very busy), just across one street from the city’s landmark water tower. It is near the entrance to a city park, so it may attract people looking for a day of relaxation. It should be easy for those who pass by to spot and is near enough parking for anyone who wants a closer look. The city certainly did not try to hide this monument.

Personally, having a statue of a Civil War general revealed in my home county was probably a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. It combines my twin loves of the Civil War and local history in a way few things can do, much like I’m trying to do with my current research on local soldiers. This is the kind of positive public history that adds to Campbell County’s (or any area’s) landscape. I was thrilled to be there, and I gladly offer a hearty thank you and congratulations to the city of Fort Thomas and all the people and organizations that made this happen.

Here are some photos of the crowd. People kind of spread out, but these show a few of the visitors.

Book Review: The Atlanta Campaign, Volume I, Dalton to Cassville, May 1-19, 1864

 

The Atlanta Campaign: Volume I: Dalton to Cassville, May 1-19, 1864
By David A. Powell
copyright 2024
Savas Beatie

I have not read David Powell’s highly regarded Chickamauga trilogy but online praise for it and h his writing is difficult to miss and I have seen much of it. After reading this volume, however,  I better understand how his books gained so many glowing reviews.

This is simply an outstanding work that I greatly enjoyed.

What struck me most about this work is that it is far more than just a recounting of events that happened 160+ years ago; it is a true history, going beyond the “what” happened and exploring the other basic questions of research - who, when, where, and why - in an enjoyable, easy-to-read narrative. This volume is a deeply-researched, organized, and detailed analysis of those basic questions, all formatted in a manner that adds to the book’s readability.

One early example of the analysis that I found noteworthy occurs on pages 238-240 with a discussion of what went wrong for the Federals during the action at Snake Creek Gap, which other options were available and how those other choices may have worked better than what took place. It moves into a discussion of similar issues with the Confederate forces as well, trying to explain Joe Johnston's thoughts and actions during this affair. Similar discussions occur throughout the book during each of the movements and engagements discussed here, pointing out mistakes, misunderstandings, and other questionable actions from both sides, as well as suggesting other ideas the armies could have adopted.  One example is the discussion of a Union organizational issue of coordination between units mentioned on page 256. 

This book, however, is not just a bunch of second-guessing and blame-laying; the author also acknowledges good decisions and performances when justified, such as on page 357 when he noted that an attack that John Logan's men made was successful "due to careful observations and preparations." 

Besides the analysis of the actions and decisions of the commanders and armies involved, one noticeable strength of the book is its organization. The use of footnotes on each page instead of endnotes, is particularly notable and certainly a plus. The Snake Creek discussion mentioned before is just one example where such notes add insight and information. They are much easier to follow than are endnotes that require flipping back and forth, sometimes between hundreds of pages.

This work starts off strongly, making a good first impression with an introductory section entitled Dramatist Personae, which introduces the primary actors in the play that follows. 

It then touches on some early military action in the region, weeks before the generally accepted campaign start date of early May and continues to examine the leaders who would make the decisions in the upcoming weeks, such as a review of the team of U.S. Grant and William Sherman as their roles and responsibilities changed in the months before this contest started, as well as the Army of Tennessee’s leadership change from Braxton Bragg to Joseph Johnston. The author then examines the morale and condition of the men and armies that would soon face each other. Overall, the initial eight chapters perform a valuable duty in setting the stage for the upcoming battlefield drama.

I also enjoyed the decision to include many short chapters instead of fewer long ones. This adds to the readability and helps the narrative to flow smoothly and match the battlefield events as they developed.

Starting with chapter nine, the text switches focus to the actual military happenings of the start of the campaign, including the choices, maneuvers, and fighting that made up the first three weeks of this long contest. It is within these chapters that this work perhaps shines brightest. The details of the events of the campaign combine with analysis of these stories and sources to weave a mountain of information into a functioning and readable book.

The author used many sources - period records, writings, articles, and publications, along with modern scholarly works and others - to uncover information, but finding those reports means little without an understanding of what they mean. To me, the analysis and interpretation of the sources is among the most impressive pieces of this work - how he combines so many sources, often containing conflicting or sometimes missing information (such as the attempts to calculate casualties of the engagements), with his interpretation, to create a cohesive narrative of the story of this campaign. Even when sources are not clear, he explains why he uses them or interprets them a certain way. What first grabbed my attention in this regard was footnote 3 on page 322, when he acknowledges the possibly questionable credibility of a journal, but chose to use it as he believed that section of the writing to be accurate. Similar situations take place later in this work as well. To me this was a bit like “seeing how the sausage is made” - the author did not just find a source and automatically accept it, but, instead, analyzed it while acknowledging that some uncertainty exists, showing the readers why he included that information instead of just letting it go unquestioned. That hints at the type of thought and effort that went into this project.

One part of this book that did catch me off guard was the unexpected appearance of chapter 27, "Supplying Sherman: "I Will Eat Your Mules." It is a noteworthy section of the book, full of important information about the logistics of Sherman's planned campaign and the potential challenges thereof. What surprised me was that it immediately followed eighteen chapters of military action and proceeded five other such sections. This placement in the midst of the discussion of the movements and clashes of the armies confused me. It would have been terrific, perhaps ideal, as chapter 9, between the talk of the men and the the fields where they met, as part of the setup to the campaign, or perhaps at the end of the book, after the talk of the fighting and right before the final chapter, but as I read the book it seemingly came out of nowhere and then disappeared again. Perhaps I am overlooking some painfully obvious reason for its placement, and I do not intend this as heavy criticism, more of an admission of my own confusion, a minor blip in a terrific work. That said, it is one of the better chapters of the book, so I am much more pleased that it is included than I am surprised by when and where it came. 

Chapter 33, “Assessment,” also deserves acknowledgement. As its name declares, it wraps up the military situation of the campaign as of May 19. It is the logical and ideal way to conclude a work like this. It includes a noteworthy wrap-up of the Confederate behavior at Cassville, “the most enigmatic incident” of the campaign to this point. The indecision at this town was “a quintessential Army of Tennessee moment: confusion among the army’s leadership, plans going awry, arguments, and in the end, another morale-destroying retreat.” (p.545). That type of description fills much of this book,

This chapter also looks at the Union performance to this point as well, though with a more positive outlook, reflecting the results of the confrontations up to this stage of the fight for Atlanta.

A helpful order of battle, always important in a battle or campaign study, then follows, as do the bibliography and the index. 

This book is long,  545 pages through the final chapter, before the order of battle, bibliography, and index, but I found it to be a quick read.  More importantly, though, it is an extremely good read, and I expect others will enjoy it as well. Even knowing there are four more volumes to follow, and the possible future commitment that implies, this is certainly a work that those who enjoy studying the Civil War should read.

Committed to the Union: John A. Arthur, Soldier

In war as in life, some people act more decisively than others, making quick, even rash, choices, while others prefer to proceed more cautiously, watch their steps, and let life play out before deciding what to do next. In April of 1861, after events in Charleston, South Carolina started the Civil War, Newport resident John Arthur joined those in the former category, signing up early and often to fight on behalf of the United States. Fortunately for him, his aggressive thinking proved not to be mere carelessness.

John had been born on February 6, 1837, in Cincinnati, Ohio.

He and his family were in Newport, Kentucky by 1850, and when the Civil War started just more than a decade later, John immediately decided to answer the call to defend his home country while other men waited for months or years to do the same if they did so at all. On April 17, 1861, just five days after the Confederate attack on Fort Sumter, John enlisted in a three-month unit, company D of the 2nd Ohio Infantry, signing up in Cincinnati. One of the leaders of the unit, then Lieutenant-Colonel Rodney Mason, later earned infamy due to his actions and alleged cowardliness as colonel of the 71st Ohio at Shiloh and then Clarksville, Tennessee. Other Campbell County men served under Mason in that regiment, but not John.

After his brief service in the 2nd Ohio, which included action at First Bull Run, John could have joined the three-year version of that regiment but instead decided to recruit and captain a military unit he called the Newport Company or Newport Home Guards, which saw action in the first Battle of Cynthiana against the troops of Confederate General John H. Morgan on July 17, 1862. 

During this battle, his troops remained near the artillery battery of Captain Billy Glass and his men from the Cincinnati Fire Department, and reportedly helped those comrades handle their cannon.1 

1st Battle of Cynthiana, 1862  
 

John’s company, which rumors exaggerated as being “badly cut up” or “all either killed or taken prisoners” actually lost two men killed, four wounded and two missing in this engagement, with Louis Wolff and William H. Shipman being the unfortunate duo who lost their lives in the Confederate victory. Those numbers represented a small but still significant loss in a company of men from the same town, showing that even Home Guardsmen could suffer the cruel fates of combat.2

William Shipman had been medically discharged from the 23rd Ky before joining the Home Guards

Morgan and his men went on to complete the rest of their raid while the Union troops also carried on with the war and their lives. The remaining Newport men returned home after Morgan paroled them.3 The survivors reportedly walked from Cynthiana to Falmouth, a town about 20 miles to the north, before boarding a train that arrived in Newport about 3:00 in the morning.4

Two days after this battle, the company assembled on July 19 and collected more than $500 for the benefit of the families of their deceased colleagues. They passed a resolution of sympathy for those families and a thank you “to the citizens of Cynthiana, who befriended the company, while in that city.”

Their statement read:

Whereas Divine Providence, in its wise dispensation, has been pleased to remove from our midst, in the late fight at Cynthiana, our gallant comrades and brothers-in-arms Louis Wolff and W. H. Shipman, and whereas, we, in common with their many relatives and friends, are called upon to mourn their loss, therefore, be it

Resolved, that in the fall of these gallant spirits – our brave comrades, fighting valiantly in defense of our common country, our company has met a sad and irreparable loss, and our community has been deprived of two of its most worthy citizens and that we will ever cherish their memories.

Resolved, that we sincerely sympathize with the brave parent of one, and the widowed wife of the other, and the many friends of both, and that remembering the parents and widow we will ever be to them sons and brothers, extending to them helping and protecting hands.

Resolved, that a copy of these resolutions be sent to the families of our deceased comrades and published in the daily papers.5

Louis Wolff’s family later offered its “most grateful thanks to the member of the Newport Home Guards, the citizens of the Third Ward, and to the Cincinnati Young Men’s Choir for the kind attention and respect of the remains of their most lamented son and brother.”6

John, who had played “so gallant a part in the Cynthiana fight,” still desired to aid his nation and the war effort, so he opened a recruiting office on York and 4th Streets in Newport where he was “enlisting a cavalry company for the regiment of Colonel (Richard) Jacob, to be assigned to the twelve months service in Kentucky.” A story discussed his service with the 2nd Ohio, an experience which meant that John was “well acquainted with the vicissitudes of the soldier’s life.” The writer was confident John would “make a good officer.”7

Recruiting soldiers was a serious concern for the government, military men like John, and even local communities who hoped enough men would volunteer to support the Union and perhaps avoid the necessity of resorting to drafts, so a “large and enthusiastic” meeting took place at the Newport Courthouse on Friday, August 15, in an effort to generate more pledges for John’s unit and others. As customary on such occasions, patriotic speeches were made and following these addresses, John stood up to announce a few financial awards that local citizens were offering to prospective recruits. One man promised to pay $5 a week for one year to the family of a married man who joined John’s company. Another offered to donate $100, which was to be split equally among five recruits, while a pair of men donated $50 each, to be divided likewise. John Fenzell gave $100, with half going to two pledges to John’s company and the other half to two new members of a company George Crist was planning to raise. Another man graciously gave $100 to be shared by seven recruits, and one final proposal came from a man who agreed to “supply the family of a volunteer with one dollar’s worth of meat per week for one year.” Besides these promises, a “patriotic individual” wishing to remain anonymous gave John $100 to split among “five of the most ready recruits” who enlisted in his company.

Ten new recruits pledged their services during the assembly “and a number more” joined one day later.

The meeting attendees concluded their gathering by forming a committee to seek donations “to a fund for the benefit of the wives and families of volunteers.”8

In addition to those financial rewards, men who willingly signed up to join this unit would receive a benefit that provided more motivation to enlist. A draft was still necessary in order to enlist enough men, and Campbell County’s quota of men was set at around 500 men, approximately 250 of which would come from Newport. According to the Cincinnati Daily Gazette, men who joined Arthur’s company “will have but one year’s military service to perform and will escape the draft.” A short term and avoiding the embarrassment of being drafted and forced to fight were effective incentives for this company. This same report noted that only about 20 available spots remained in the unit, and it expected the company to be full by the end of August 16.9

The report was accurate, as John’s company quickly filled its ranks so successfully that he even rejected twelve men who offered to join the group after he had met his requirements.10

Once full, the company consisted of 103 men. These soon-to-be warriors who had secured their places in the army were soon happy and lucky enough to enjoy a “fine dinner” that local women prepared in the fire house on York Street.11 The men then departed on the steamship Florence traveling first to Louisville, from where they were to move to Eminence, Kentucky, “where they will go into camp for a short time.”

Eminence was where Jacob’s 9th Kentucky Cavalry unit was forming.

The men arrived safely at Louisville and settled into camp near that city but soon learned they would now be joining the 1st Battalion of James Shackelford’s 8th Kentucky Cavalry since Jacob’s unit had already filled up before their arrival, much like the issue this company experienced.12 Patriotism and a willingness to fight were still strong at this point of the war.

Shackelford, a “prominent” guerrilla hunter in western Kentucky, later was promoted to Brigadier General of U.S. Volunteers.13 

James M. Shackelford

Just a few weeks after John’s company joined the 8th Kentucky, back in Newport, “fears have been felt for the safety of Captain John Arthur who left here a few weeks ago with a cavalry company for Louisville, nothing having been heard from him since his departure from there.”

Those worries dissipated in mid-September. George W. Sarver, mistakenly described as a member of Arthur's company, arrived at his home in Newport, where he reported that Arthur’s men were in “excellent health and spirits” in Henderson, Kentucky. He also brought the news that the company had mustered into the service and the men had received their bounty money. Like many new, innocent, and perhaps naïve troops, they were now “eager for the fray.”14, 15 

Just how and why Sarver had this information is uncertain. Had he joined the unit, but not been officially added to the roster? Was he a friend of one of the company officers?

The regiment these men joined, the 8th Kentucky Cavalry, formed in Russellville, Kentucky for one year and mustered in on August 13, 1862. It remained in Kentucky and Tennessee for most of its existence, seeing service combating irregular Confederate soldiers, perhaps partisan rangers, or guerrillas, as Union officials frequently labeled them, and joined in the pursuit of Morgan and his Confederates during his “Great Raid” during the summer of 1863, ending with Confederate defeat at Buffington Island, Ohio, on July 19, 1863,16 a week before Shackelford led another group of men who captured Morgan at the Battle of Salineville.   

John H. Morgan 

       

Once his company had found its military home in this regiment, John’s fortunes changed for the worse when alleged Confederate guerrillas  captured him at Elkton, Floyd County, Kentucky on August 5, 1863. The unit had been in western Kentucky for much of its service, but John and others were on a hunting expedition for such men in the eastern part of the state at this moment. He spent time in Confederate prisons in Columbia, South Carolina (where he suffered a hip contusion) and Virginia, including Richmond’s well-known Libby Prison, where he arrived in late August of 1864, along with David Lock, another Newport resident in the company.17

Libby Prison 

Weeks later, the Confederates moved him to another facility this one in Macon, Georgia.18

As the war neared its end, his enemies released John from prison and paroled him on March 1, 1865, in North Carolina. The Cincinnati Daily Times of March 13 noted that he had been “long confined in the Rebel prisons,” but now his friends could “rejoice to learn that he has been exchanged,” which technically allowed him to fight again, though his term had expired and the war was almost over. It also said that prior to the war, he had been “long connected with the Times’ office.” 

By the time of this report, John had already arrived in Annapolis, Maryland, likely at a camp for paroled Union soldiers, for a quick health check and verification of his new status on his way home.19

He finally did make his way back to Newport, knowing  he had done enough military service to fulfill any obligations he felt, especially as tge end of the war appeared close, but a controversy that was minor in scope yet important symbolically occurred in the months after the fighting ceased.

In September 1865, the Cincinnati Daily Gazette reported that members of the Taylor Street Church in Newport would apply for an injunction against several Union supporters, including John, James R. Morin, formerly a lieutenant in the 8th Kentucky Cavalry, prominent attorney Ira Root, and more, to stop them

from interrupting or in any manner interfering to prevent the free use of the Taylor Street Methodist Episcopal Church by Rev L D Huston and the congregation usually attending there for the purpose of religious worship. Notice to the above effect have been served on the parties named. The church is now held by civil authorities.20 

Another account specified that these men had attended a meeting at the church on September 15 and had resolved to close the house of worship that they found to be disloyal even after the major Confederate armies had surrendered. That decision led the churchgoers to pursue the legal action.21

This church had been known as the Taylor Street Methodist Church South for years until they removed that final word in April of that fateful year.22 Though not explicitly stated in the newspapers, it appears that these men were harassing people they believed were sympathetic towards the South. Given the happenings at the time nationally and in Kentucky, that is not surprising. Dozens of Campbell County men suspected of supporting the Confederacy had been arrested during the war, and others joined Confederate units, so such sentiment certainly existed throughout the county. 

Even some church members recognized that outsiders might question the institution’s reputation. In August of 1864, eleven months before the request for the injunction, and while the war was still ongoing, “Union members” of the church board had proposed a set of resolutions concerning “the reputed disloyalty of the church toward the United States Government” and urged that the state conference of the Methodist church adopt “a decided loyal position and separate themselves from all disloyal connections.”

Surprisingly, however, the preacher in control of the church refused to adopt these resolutions and the church members, despite being having the power to pass them without his permission, let them quietly fade into oblivion. Those members still felt “much dissatisfaction” with their leader, but instead of pursuing the issue further, they let it go for the time being, expecting to hire an “unconditional Union minister” one year later, a delay which perhaps led to the harassment from men like John.23

Since the actual members of the institution had questions about its faithfulness to the national government, it was only natural that strong Union supporters would notice the same issues. Such division between Unionists and Southern supporters remains a major part of the legacy of the Civil War in Kentucky, even of the postwar years, when some people claimed that the state had “joined the Confederacy after the Civil War.” It was a complicated era in the state, and Campbell County was not immune to such difficulties.

In his postwar years, John spent most of his time in Newport, where he also served a term on City Council.24 At some point, though, he left the city, but only temporarily, as an 1869 story reports that he returned “to his home in Newport yesterday, after several years absence in the Far West.”25

One year later, he lived there with his parents Robert and Elizabeth, and two older brothers. He worked as a reporter according to that year’s census, agreeing with an 1864 story that had mentioned that he was “connected with the (Cincinnati) Daily Times.”26  

At this point, this story took some unexpected turns as ensuring its accuracy became a bigger challenge to me when I noticed a second John Arthur on the 1870 census, this one living in nearby Covington and working as a steam engineer, making it reasonable to think it could be the same man. The findagrave record of this man (created by a man I know and trust) showed this John Arthur (the engineer) as the soldier I had been studying. That page also mentioned that he had died in 1884 in St. Albans, West Virginia, and I found a newspaper record that mentioned the same death date and place for a John Arthur. 

Continued research, however, showed that this was a different John Arthur, one without the middle initial or the military experience. A pension index card for a widow’s pension finally confirmed the death information of the soldier John Arthur, then a cemetery record attached to his findagrave page verified the information on the pension card. It even shows a date and place of birth for him as well. With this new information, I was then able to find newspaper stories providing more details on his life and death. (I admit I'm just more than a little relieved to have found this information before hitting the "publish" button.)

In addition to being a soldier, John A. Arthur had a long snd respected career in journalism, mostly in Cincinnati, but eventually landing him a bit north in Columbus, Ohio, where he passed away on February 9, 1875.

His previously mentioned findagrave page claims that he “was assaulted for something he wrote in the Sunday News,” which more formal accounts from the time mostly support. 

The Cincinnati Commercial described John as “well known as a newspaper man” in Cincinnati, then Columbus. It reported that on the night of February 5 he was on the street  outside his house, when a group of “ruffians” assaulted and robbed him. “His wife heard his cries” and quickly exited the house only to find him “in a pool of blood, which glowed from a wound in the face.” 

In the days following that attack, John was constantly “growing worse” and had been unconscious for most of that time. He could barely recognize his friends when he was awake. He finally succumbed to injuries at midnight on the 10th.27

 The Cincinnati Daily Star offered a similar account of his death but added a few details about his career.  He had worked for the Cincinnati Gazette at one time, including a stint as editor. He then was editor of "the old Cincinnati Times," and then the Columbus correspondent of the Daily Star.

He had been "highly esteemed by all his associates," who found him to be a "most competent and reliable man in his profession."

This story mentioned his time in the Civil War, where he "served with distinction," and claimed that he had been in Libby Prison for 18 months. This exaggeration was an error as the paper may have heard he was in Libby and assumed that was his only prison home since it had a notorious reputation.

John's body was laid to rest in an unmarked grave in Green Lawn Cemetery in Columbus.

Despite his career in the newspaper business, I have found no wartime reports from him in the local newspapers. Perhaps future research will uncover some such writings, or maybe he had them published anonymously, though I’ve not yet found any such possibilities. Then again, he may have chosen to focus on his military duties instead of writing, especially in his role as captain. His time in prison may have also prevented him from being able to send such work back home. 

John had been a strong and unquestioned supporter of the Union cause during the Civil War, serving in multiple units (as captain in two of them), risking his health and life, and even surviving capture by the Confederates. He was one of the truest of patriots in Campbell County during these bloody years, a man who let his actions speak about his beliefs. He earned no fame for his service, but his story deserves a place in county memory.

1Cincinnati Daily Commercial, July 22, 1862
2Cincinnati Daily Enquirer, July 19, 1862
3Cincinnati Daily Enquirer, July 22, 1862
4Cincinnati Daily Commercial, July 21, 1862
5Cincinnati Daily Gazette, July 22, 1862
6Cincinnati Daily Commercial, July 25, 1862
7Cincinnati Daily Commercial, August 7, 1862
8Cincinnati Daily Enquirer, August 17, 1862
9Cincinnati Daily Gazette, August 16, 1862
10Cincinnati Daily Commercial, August 19, 1862
11Cincinnati Daily Enquirer, August 22, 1862
12Ibid
13Lindow, Derrick. We Shall Conquer or Die: Partisan Warfare in 1862 Western Kentucky. Savas Beatie. 2024 p. x
14Cincinnati Daily Enquirer, September 20, 1862
15Cincinnati Daily Commercial, September 20, 1862
16https://www.nps.gov/civilwar/search-battle-units-detail.htm?battleUnitCode=UKY0008RC, Accessed January 28, 2025
17Richmond Daily Dispatch, August 24, 1863
18Cincinnati Daily Commercial, September 24, 1864
19Cincinnati Daily Times, March 13, 1865
20Cincinnati Daily Gazette, September 26, 1865
21Cincinnati Daily Times, September 19, 1865
22Cincinnati Daily Enquirer, April 22, 1865
23Cincinnati Daily Commercial, August 26, 1864
24Cincinnati Daily Times, November 24, 1865
25Cincinnati Daily Enquirer, May 25, 1869
26Cincinnati Daily Commercial, September 24, 1864
27Cincinnati Commercial, February 10, 1875

“Weakness and Lack of Patriotism:” Resolutions of the Granville Moody Post, G.A.R.

Questions over how American society remembers the Civil War are not unique to the 21st century, having been around since the war ended and the decades immediately following it. 

That issue is not usually a major emphasis of my writing, but one example involving men from Campbell County appeared in the early 1900s, not quite 50 years after the war had started, and recently came to my attention. It is among the most unexpected local stories I have uncovered. 

The Granville Moody Post of the Grand Army of the Republic was based in Bellevue, Campbell County. During my research, I’ve seen many mentions of this post, including names of group members and mentions of post meetings and officer elections, all in various local newspapers I have perused. I must say that coming across this in the National Tribune, of Washington D.C., was certainly out of left field.

To me, it is intriguing that this otherwise quiet group of veterans made such strong and public resolutions on this situation and that a newspaper in the nation’s capital published these concerns. The men of this post certainly left no doubt of their feelings on the proposed homage to their wartime enemies. 

Two accounts, basically the same information, but with different wording, appeared in the Tribune.

The first, on November 25, 1909, consisted of these few lines.

Then, a few months later, on March 17, 1910, it printed another version.

One surprise was in finding this in a paper from out of the area instead of one of the local journals, but after another search, I did find this mentioned in the Cincinnati Commercial Tribune on November 9, 1909. Perhaps my research had not been good enough at first, but I’ll take a lead to a good story anywhere I find it.

A major part of this complaint concerned the statue of Robert E. Lee shown below. The state of Virginia had provided it for the National Statuary Hall in the U.S. Capitol in 1909, the same year that the G.A.R. men expressed their disapproval. It was removed from the Capitol on December 21, 2020, more than a century after the Moody Post had made its feelings known. 

The Robert E. Lee statue that stood in the US Capitol, photo courtesy of Wikipedia. 

It may seem surprising that a group in Kentucky, which had supplied thousands of men to the Confederate army and which a cliché claims “joined the Confederacy after the war” would issue such a statement against Confederate iconography, but perhaps this was a reaction to such feelings. True Union men like these did live throughout the state despite its reputation, and it would not be hard to believe that these men were frustrated at (or embarrassed by) the state’s split loyalties and reputation. Perhaps the plans to give national honors to Confederate leaders was the proverbial "straw that broke the camel’s back” that convinced these men to express their feelings. Were they pushing back against the “Confederate Kentucky” narrative or did they look at this as a purely national issue of loyalty? Did they believe the concept of reconciliation was going too far? It is too bad none of their meeting minutes or other comments are known to exist.

Whatever the exact motivation the men of the Moody Post held, they did issue this statement, and though it had no immediate effect as the Confederate displays continued to exist long into the future, the sentiments they expressed became far more widespread in the second decade of the 21st century, eventually leading to the removal of the Lee statue and other Confederate symbols from public places. These Union veterans did not live to see it, but their wish eventually came true as part of a new fight of public memory 150 years after the fighting on the battlefields had ended.

"Due to Despondency:" The Life and Death of Edward Riley, 8th Kentucky Cavalry

Immigrant Civil War soldiers in Campbell County has become one of the unexpected stories that my research has uncovered. I readily admit that surprise may be my own fault, and my original expectations should have been more accurate. Immigration to the U.S. was a common occurrence in the nineteenth century and my previous Civil War reading has often discussed immigrant soldiers, frequently of German heritage, but it took my digging into this project for me to connect that national trend with the local situation. In hindsight, I should have known that soldiers born outside of the United States would constitute a significant part of my research. Oh well. Live and learn.

I mention the idea of immigration because this story is about another local soldier with an European past. Edward Riley was born in Ireland about 1830 or 1831.

After arriving in the United States, Edward had found a home in Newport, Kentucky by 1860, when he worked as a pattern maker. He lived with his wife Mary and their pair of offspring as of that year’s census, and was listed as 29 years old.

The Civil War broke out in April of 1861, but Edward waited some time before joining. Perhaps he thought the war would not last long, or his family did not want him to enlist, but he eventually overcame any hesitation and decided to join in the fight.

He enlisted in John Arthur’s cavalry company on August 14, 1862, in Newport. Arthur had been part of a three-month Ohio regiment, then had led a local home guard unit, before finally recruiting his own company. Edward joined this new company for a term of one year and paperwork showed him as 30 years old. He mustered in on September 13 in Henderson, Kentucky. He signed up as a private and served as the company’s farrier, ensuring that the unit’s horses had hooves and shoes that were in good enough shape to perform their duty.

The company Edward joined consisted of 103 men, who had the pleasure to enjoy a “fine dinner” that local women prepared for them in the engine house on York Street¹ before their departure for war. (Additionally, Captain Arthur had found it necessary to reject twelve other men who attempted to join the regiment after it had reached its quota and filled.)² The men soon departed on the steamship Florence traveling first to Louisville, from where they were to move to Eminence, Kentucky, “where they will go into camp for a short time.”       

The men arrived safely at Louisville and settled into camp near there but soon learned they would now be joining the 1^st Battalion of Colonel James Shackelford’s 8^th Kentucky Cavalry.³

This regiment, officially organized at Russellville, Kentucky, mustered in on an August 13, a few weeks before Edward was officially added to the roster.

In mid-September, a Cincinnati newspaper reported that one man, whom it described as a soldier in the company, though his names does not appear on the roster, had returned to Newport and reported that these men were in “excellent health and spirits” in Henderson and that they had received their bounty money after mustering in, certainly good news for them. The boys were now “eager for the fray” like new and innocent soldiers often were.^4,5

The 8th Kentucky spent most of its year in the service throughout western Kentucky, helping to chase irregular Confederate soldiers, often labeled “guerrillas” by Union leaders, then in July of 1863 joined in the chase for General John H. Morgan’s Confederate troops as they raided Kentucky, Indiana, and Ohio on what became known as that general’s “Great Raid,” which resulted in many of the southerners being captured at the Battle of Buffington Island, Ohio.⁶    

Shackelford, a “prominent” guerrilla hunter in the Western Kentucky region, had been promoted to Brigadier General of U.S. Volunteers and to end this raid commanded a group of men who captured Morgan at the Battle of Salineville, Ohio near the end of July.

Edward mustered out of the service on September 23, 1863, in Russellville, and resumed daily life back in Campbell County, where, in 1880 he lived in Newport with Mary and seven children. He was 49 years old and made a living as a stove finisher.

Sadly, life did not always go as he wished and in mid-1888, the former foreman at the Favorite Stove Works company in Newport had “been out of work at his trade, which was that of a machinist, and has been compelled to work on the streets of Newport.” This must have been a tough situation for a proud man to accept. 

About 11:00 on the night of June 8 of that year, Edward’s son Jim walked into the dining room of the family home on Jefferson Street (now called Sixth Street) and “discovered his father hanging by the neck from the wall.” He immediately “raised the alarm,” and his mother and siblings helped cut down the body, which a doctor soon confirmed was lifeless.

His trouble finding regular work had “greatly discouraged him, and his rash act is due to despondency.”⁷

Edward’s funeral took place on June 10, and “was quite largely attended.” He was buried in St. Stephen Cemetery in Fort Thomas.⁸

The newspaper reported him being fifty years old, which differs by a few years from other records. His wife and seven children survived him and somehow pressed on with their lives despite such a terrible shock Edward’s death, especially the way it happened, gave them.⁹

¹Cincinnati Daily Enquirer, August 19, 1862
²Cincinnati Daily Commercial, August 19, 1862 
³Cincinnati Daily Enquirer, August 22, 1862 
⁴Cincinnati Daily Enquirer, September 20, 1862 
⁵Cincinnati Daily Commercial, September 20, 1862 
⁶https://www.nps.gov/civilwar/search-battle-units-detail.htm?battleUnitCode=UKY0008RC, Accessed April 10, 2023 
⁷Cincinnati Enquirer, June 9, 1888
⁸Cincinnati Enquirer, June 11, 1888
⁹Cincinnati Enquirer, June 9, 1888