Image from www.tn.gov

The Two Volunteers.

I found them there together,
With roses sweet between,
Near by a murmuring river,
Above them heaven’s sheen.
I heard the winds of summer
Sing low a sweet refrain
Above the youth from Georgia,
Above the lad from Maine.

One left his tall palmettos,
The other left his pines,
To stand with gallant thousands
Amid the battle lines.
But now in peace they slumber
In sunshine and in rain;
One northward came from Georgia,
One southward marched from Maine.

No more the battle bugles
Will tell them they were foes,
No more the thunderous cannon
Shall break their deep repose.
Perhaps for them in sorrow,
Beyond the sunny plain,
A mother waits in Georgia,
A sister weeps in Maine.

Perhaps two old-time sweethearts
Still listen for the tread
Of those two youthful gallants
Who sleep among the dead.
I’ve not the heart to tell them
Where camp, in sun and rain,
The boy who came from Georgia,
The boy who marched from Maine.

I heard the murmuring river,
I saw its silvered waves,
I blessed the rich, red clover
That grew upon their graves,
And then I asked the angels
Who watch on heaven’s plain
To guard the boy from Georgia,
To guard the lad from Maine.

No longer are they foemen,
No more they hear the pines
Their song at midnight singing
Between the battle lines.
The hot drums of secession
Will never beat again
To thrill the sons of Georgia,
To rouse the sons of Maine.

I left them to their slumbers –
The blue coat and the gray;
Beside the singing river
They wait the Judgment Day.
Thank God, the starry banner
Beloved on hill and plain,
Waves o’er the boy from Georgia,
And o’er the boy from Maine!

–T.C. HARBAUGH.

The News (Frederick, Maryland) Feb 14, 1891

The Trooper’s Return.
(A Scotch-American Ballad.)

When the gloaming was veiling the wooded hills;
And the gold of the summer’s sun
Was passing away in the track of the day,
And the pale stars, one by one,
Were peering out from the saffron haze
That softens the evening calm,
And the last sweet note from the wild bird’s throat,
Had passed like a woodland psalm.
A mother stood with her bairnies three,
By the lane where the road sweeps down,
Where the traveler sees through the apple trees
The spires of the far off town.

“Now, woe is me,” said the sad, lone wife,
“For the weary hours we stan’,
Wi’ sighs and wi’ fears and blindin’ tears,
A waitin’ my dear gude-mon.
Wounded, a prisoner, at last exchanged;
Three weeks and a day hae gane;
But still in tears and a prey to fears,
We wait by the lonely lane.”
While she spoke, from the shaded roadside near,
A tall, lean figure came;
And the red blood shot through her pulses hot
And her veins, like living flame.

O, she thought she saw in the wave of his hand,
A nameless, remembered art
That gave a charm to a strong young arm
When love first came to her heart.
Alas, for the wife wi’ bairnies three!
She met in the traveler lone
No answering trace in his wasted face
Of the long-sought, hoped-for one.
But her heart gushed out in a tender glance,
As she saw in the warrior worn,
A manly form that the battle storm
Had broken and maimed and torn.

“Now, where are ye limpin’ so late good man?
You seem to be unco lame.”
“Good dame,” quo’ he, with a tear in his e’e,
“I’m limping toward my hame.
I’m needing rest and a kindly hand,
As your ain fair een can see;
I’ve been in the fight to protect the right;
The cause o’ the brave and free.
There’s an ugly scar on this leg that’s left,
That mak’s me so feeble seem;
The ither was lost when our squadrons crossed
The ford of a bloody stream.

“‘Twas burning with shame, each drew his rein,
And turning his chargers fleet,
Our general’s words and our good broad swords
Tore victory from defeat.”
She heard in the ring of his manly voice
The rich loved tones of yore.
And the wasted face and the limping pace
Were seen by the wife no more;
To the wreck of the trooper that proudly stood
In the eye of the evening wan,
Her heart gushed out in a sobbing shout,
“Dear God! It’s my ain gude-mon!”

And the wounded and torn of a hundred fights
Was clasped to her woman’s breast;
Forgot were his scars ‘neath the burning stars,
His pains and his needed rest.
His eldest born took his battered sword;
Wee Willie his sash unbound;
While Maud in h’s arms, with her infant charms,
Sat light on an unhealed wound.
He struck from the road with a bounding heart,
Forgetting his gashed, still knee;
Up the sweet lane to his home again,
With his wife and his bairnies three.

The Constitution (Atlanta, Georgia) Apr 8, 1888

We Stood For Freedom

We stood for freedom just like you
And loved the flag you cherish too

Our uniforms felt great to wear
You know the feel, and how you care

In step we marched, the cadence way
The same is true with you today

Oh how we tried to do our best
As you do now, from test to test

How young we were and proud to be
Defenders of true liberty

So many thoughts bind soldiers well
The facts may change, not how we jell

Each soldier past, and you now here
Do share what will not disappear

One thought now comes, straight from my heart
For soldiers home, who’ve done their part

I’m honored to have served with you
May Godly peace, help get you through

And now I’ll end with a request
Do ponder this, while home at rest

America, respect our day
Each veteran, helped freedom stay

Written for Veteran’s Day 2002
Roger J. Robicheau

*****

To all our Veterans, THANK YOU!

This “column,” which was more a collection of quotes, ran in the papers with the header above during the 1920s. It could have ran longer, I didn’t check.

Image from Roger Hollander News and Opinion blog

Instead of investigating crookedness, Congress might look around and see if it can find any honesty.

The Gettysburg Times (Gettysburg, Pennsylvania) Jul 9, 1924

*********

Emotion wins more votes than reason.

The Gettysburg Times (Gettysburg, Pennsylvania)  Oct 7, 1924

*********

The only ones who opposed freedom to others are those who are afraid of losing their own.

The Gettysburg Times (Gettysburg, Pennsylvania) Jul 14, 1924

*********

Hez Heck says: “Human nature ain’t never satisfied with a good thing. It monkeys around until it gets something worse.”

The Gettysburg Times (Gettysburg, Pennsylvania) Jul 16, 1924

*********

Air is the only thing on earth that is not bought or sold, but Congress will get around to it one of these days.

The Gettysburg Times (Gettysburg, Pennsylvania) Jul 30, 1924

*********

It is the business of politics to study popular ignorance and work it up into votes.

The Gettysburg Times (Gettysburg, Pennsylvania) Aug 1, 1924

*********

Things done by force are always done wrong.

The Gettysburg Times (Gettysburg, Pennsylvania) Aug 5, 1924

*********

While democracy is hardly safe, profiteers surely are.

The Gettysburg Times (Gettysburg, Pennsylvania) Aug 12, 1924

*********

Hez Heck says: “Civilization is a process that makes men do by stealth what they are naturally inclined to do openly.”

The Gettysburg Times (Gettysburg, Pennsylvania) Aug 25, 1924

*********

The majority is wrong oftener than the minority.

Every time you abridge the rights of others you abridge your own.

If you have no facts to back you up, never mind; you can formulate a “doctrine.”

The Gettysburg Times (Gettysburg, Pennsylvania) Sep 6, 1924

*********

Too many of us had rather be admired than respected.

The good will and friendship of a rascal are a heavy liability.

A colossal amount of time is wasted in trying to make truth out of opinion.

The Gettysburg Times (Gettysburg, Pennsylvania) Oct 9, 1924

*********

Authority is coveted by all, but unscrupulous men fairly hanker for it.

The Gettysburg Times (Gettysburg, Pennsylvania) Sep 16, 1924

*********

Hez Heck says: “Truth loses its purity the minute you begin to monkey with it.”

The Gettysburg Times (Gettysburg, Pennsylvania) Sep 26, 1924

*********

It generally happens that a man with many suits of clothes is not burdened with many ideas.

The Gettysburg Times (Gettysburg, Pennsylvania) Jul 12, 1924

*********

A law-ridden nation is always a tax-ridden nation.

The Gettysburg Times (Gettysburg, Pennsylvania) Oct 10, 1924

*********

When a radical is right he can’t be too radical.

The Gettysburg Times (Gettysburg, Pennsylvania) Sep 18, 1924

*********

The human hand serves two distinct uses: One is to shake with, and he other is to handle a gun.

The Gettysburg Times (Gettysburg, Pennsylvania) Sep 27, 1924

*********

Hez Heck says: “When an enemy praises you, keep your hand on your gun.”

The Gettysburg Times (Gettysburg, Pennsylvania) Jul 11, 1924

Image from www.danleysart.com

Hark! hark! ’tis SOZODONT I cry
Haste youths, and maidens, come and buy.
Come and a secret I’ll unfold,
At small expense to young and old.
A charm that will on both bestow
A ruby lip, and teeth like snow.

The Atlanta Constitution (Atlanta, Georgia) Jun 25, 1884

*****

Hie, lads and lassies hie away
Nor brook a single hour’s delay,
If you would carry in your mouth
White teeth, and odors of the south.
Haste, haste, and buy a single font
Of the unrivalled SOZODONT.

The Atlanta Constitution (Atlanta, Georgia) Aug 13, 1882

This is the poem, which is hard to read on the above image:

Yes, barber, what you say is true,
I need a number one shampoo,
And came in, as I always do,
Because I can rely on you
To choose pure Ivory Soap, in lieu
Of soaps ol divers form and hue
From use of which such ills ensue.

Well, sir, we barbers suffer too,
From humbug articles, and rue
That we have tried before we knew
Poor toilet frauds to which are due
More scalp-diseases than a few.
I know we are the safer who
Use Ivory Soap for a shampoo.

Carroll Sentinel (Carroll, Iowa) Oct 3, 1893

The Daily Northwestern (Oshkosh, Wisconsin) Jun 11, 1890

Image from www.westdeertownship.com

The Georgia Buggy Co. 39 S. Broad St., 34-36 S. Forsyth St.

In the dead hour of night,
While sleeping with all your might,
The Genii made a sweeping flight,
And took the street cars out of sight.

In this hour of dire distress
The public their indignation express;
You to the courts go for redress
And get a forty-eight hour request.

To our friends we kindly advise,
Let the street cars go in demise,
Buy a vehicle, which is wise,
And show the boss your despise;

If not street cars by the door,
You have carpets on your floor;
To and from work you can go
In a fine vehicle bought low
At the only Georgia Buggy Co.

LAST WEEK the buyers kept us busy from start to finish. Mighty bad weather though for imitators to be left out in the cold. The Georgia Buggy Co.

The Atlanta Constitution (Atlanta, Georgia) Mar 8,  1896

Image from www.mainememory.net

MEA CULPA!

How sweet to love,
But Oh! how bitter,
To love a gal,
And then not git her!
And know the only
Reason why
Is because you didn’t
The furniture buy
Of Stowers.

203 West Commerce street.

San Antonio Light (San Antonio, Texas) Jul 25, 1897

Image from http://tompoland.net

This one is my favorite:

Machine Poetry.

Dear friends, we are modest, decidedly so,
But sometimes our pen at random will go;
And we now feel inclined to let the thing run,
And write a short notice abounding with fun.

Our neighbors, good fellows, who are all on the track,
Cry “Hurrah for the West!” and never look back;
And not wishing to linger or fall in the rear,
We crave for a moment your poetic ear.

Our scribbling we think resembles the kind
Once written by Homer, the man that was blind;
But only like his in regard to the eyes;
Not at all Homer-like viewed otherwise.

He wrote with gravity, candor and sense;
We write for the purpose of getting the pence;
And if we succeed, and obtain our desire,
We’ll throw down our pen, make our bow, and retire.

The facts of the case we are willing to tell;
We have a few things we are anxious to sell;
And we take this queer way of letting you know
That you don’t save the coppers if by us you go.

Of Superfine Flour we have “piles” upon “piles,”
To supply all our friends for a circuit of miles;
We sell on commission for a profit quite small,
Believe what we say, and give us a call.

Of Sugar we have not a very small “heap,”
Which we are selling quite fast, for we’re selling it cheap.
One dollar will buy eight pounds of the sweet;
And now the dear children may have cookies to eat.

Of Coffee and Spices we have a supply,
That are fine for the palate and nice to the eye;
Ground or unground, roasted or not,
Cinnamon fragrant, and Black Pepper hot.

If Fremont’s elected, and for it we hope,
For the disappointed ones we’ve plenty of Soap
To cleanse their long faces and banish their tears,
And keep them contented for at least eight years.

Saleratus and Soda, and Teas you may find;
Cream Tartar in packages just to your mind;
Caps,Percussion, by the box, the thousand or more,
You can have whenever you visit our Store.

In the Furniture line we make no pretensions,
But we have some chairs of ample dimensions,
Which are faithfully made and painted nice,
And are offered for sale at a very low price.

Nails, Sash, and Glass we have always on hand,
For those who are building in this glorious land.
Six cents for the Sash, for the Glass four and a half,
And Nails at a price that will make you all laugh.

Do you want Gunpowder, and a little cold Lead,
To finish old Bruin with a ball in his head?
Come along with your shot gun, revolver, and rifle,
And we’ll fill up your horns and ask but a trifle.

We have Salt by the barrel, and Syrup so nice
That if you trade with us once we know you will twice.
Dried Apples we sell to those who like pies,
And Cheese that would dazzle an epicure’s eyes.

Of Nicknacks and Notions, such as Baskets and Matches,
Warm Coats and thick Pants for those who hate patches,
With Mittens and Gloves, and Cotton and Thread,
We have a few left, and a Comb for the head.

And now, kind friend, we propose to retreat
From the stomach and back and come down to the feet;
Just after our measure, our metre, and time,
And give you some sense along with the rhyme.

When Mother Eve in Paradise was staying,
And ‘midst those shady walks and sparkling fountains playing,
‘Tis said that she revolted, (what a shame!)
Then took fig leaves, made aprons of the same,
Ingeniously attempting thus to cover
Herself and guilty man half over.

Banished from Eden’s calm and blest retreat,
She wandered forth with unprotected feet;
To scorching sand her pedals were exposed,
And, grov’ling in the dust, spread out her ten fair toes.
A flaming sword hung o’er those scenes of sacred mirth;
Barefoot and sad she trod the sin-cursed earth.

How long her children wailed and wanted Shoes,
Is no recorded by our homely muse.
One fact is clear: No longer need they weep,
For Boots and Shoes, nice, strong, and cheap,
To suit the foot and please the eye,
We have to sell just when they please to buy.

We keep on a corner where two roads meet,
And when your faces there we greet,
With treatment kind and prudent pay,
We’ll send you smiling on your way.

JAMES & NUDD.
Richland Center, November 3, 1856.

Richland County Observer (Richland, Wisconsin) Nov 18, 1856

*****

CUBA AND CALIFORNIA

Let Stutchfield, Hoyt, and all the rest,
Boast of  their wares the very best,
But if you wish to make a trade,
Call at my shop, where ready made,
And made ‘pon honor, you’ll be sure
To find all kinds of Furniture
Bedsteads — the plan best e’er invented –
On which a man may rest contented.
On which bugs, white, black or yellow,
Fleas, dogs or snakes, ne’er bite a fellow
Its match you ne’er saw in your life,
It opens and shuts just like a knife.
My neighbor says, “If I had tools,
I’d make a few to gull the fools,”
But mine, when tried, you’ll surely find
Will suit a very different mind
Come, get a little wife, young man,
And a bedstead made on my new plan,
You’ll want some Chairs, a Table and Settee,
A Boston for the wife, a Crib for the baby.
My prices, too, so very low,
You’ll wonder why you waited so.
Bring your Lumber, or Cash in hand,
Opposite the Old Whyler Stand.

E.W. JACOBS

Norwalk, Oct. 10, 1849

Acrostic Advertising

Acrostic Advertising #2

The Globe (Atchison, Kansas) Jan 18, 1878

Image from www.bellehome.co.uk

Gresham’s Answer to Queen Lil
When I received your cablegram
I thought I sure would faint
For though I often used Parks’ Teas
‘Tis not for your complaint.
I feared that Mrs. G. would think
Wrong about our connection
Till on her dresser there I saw
Parks’ Tea for her complexion.

Sandusky Register (Sandusky, Ohio) Sep 13, 1894

John S. Durham, lower left

Image from: REMINISCENCES of School Life, and Hints on Teaching
By Fanny Jackson-Coppin
Philadelphia, Pa., U. S. A. Copyright L. J. Coppin 1913

*****

A BRIGHT NEGRO.
From the Philadelphia Times.

John Durham, who has just been appointed United States Consul at St. Domingo by President Harrison, is a colored man of ability and character. Mr. Durham is at present engaged on the editorial staff of the Philadelphia Bulletin. Hi is a native of this city and at an early age showed a natural aptness for his studies. He went through the public schools of this city in order, graduating at the Institute for Colored Youths, located on Bainbridge street.

The following year he began teaching, holding many positions of prominence in the schools of Pennsylvania and New Jersey. He was principal of the O.V. Catto School, in the Seventh district. After preparing for college he entered the University of Pennsylvania, where he took a five years’ course in science, graduating with the degree of bachelor of science. He also took a post graduate course in civil engineering. While at the University he held the position of editor-in-chief of the University Magazine and filled his position so ably that he attracted the attention of a number of the leading journalist of the city. Mr. Durham also took an active part in the sports of that institution, distinguishing himself particularly in foot-ball. While pursuing his studies at the University he was paying his way by reporting for the daily papers, occupying a regular position on the staff of The Times.

Upon graduating from the University he was employed by the Evening Bulletin, where he has remained for six years. In his application for the Consulship Mr. Durham was backed by Mayor Fitler, who, in his recommendation to the President, urging the appointment on personal grounds. Also C.E. Smith, J,C. Simms, Provost Pepper, of the University; Ex-Senator Blanch K. Bruce, T.V. Cooper and Gibson Peacock, of the Bulletin. The new Consul will leave for the scene of his duties about June 1.

The News (Frederick, Maryland) May 7, 1890

In the Labor Unions and the Negro, John Stephens Durham, formerly United States minister to Haiti, brings to notice the manner in which the trades unions of this country, by excluding colored workmen from their memberships, have gradually succeeded in driving the negro from nearly all skilled occupations, thus paralyzing at the source the efforts of nearly one-tenth of our whole population for growth and self-improvement, and creating a  very serious problem for the nation itself.

The Fitchburg Sentinel (Fitchburg, Massachusetts) Feb 2, 1898

*****

Read more about John Stephens Durham in The Pennsylvania Magazine of History and Biography, (Oct 1982) at  the Jstor website.

Booker T. Washington

Image (Project Gutenberg) from the following book:

SPARKLING GEMS OF RACE KNOWLEDGE WORTH READING.
A COMPENDIUM OF VALUABLE INFORMATION AND WISE
SUGGESTIONS THAT WILL INSPIRE NOBLE EFFORT AT
THE HANDS OF EVERY RACE-LOVING
MAN, WOMAN, AND CHILD.

ILLUSTRATED WITH SUPERB HALF-TONE ENGRAVINGS.
COMPILED AND ARRANGED BY JAMES T. HALEY.
Nashville, Tenn.: J. T. Haley & Company, Publishers. 1897.

Read a letter written to John Stephens Durham from Booker T. Washington. (Google Books Link)

From: The Booker T. Washington Papers: 1904-6, By Booker T. Washington, Louis R. Harlan

*****

And a letter from John Stephens Durham to Booker T. Washington (Google Books)

From: The Booker T. Washington Papers: 1895-98, By Booker T. Washington, Louis R. Harlan, Raymond Smock

HEAD OF NORTHWESTERN RAILROAD’S FORCE A DEAD SHOT.

Train Robbers Fear Fred Hans — Although “Fred” is Mild-Mannered His Colt .45 Has Laid Low Many Western Desperadoes.

Western bandits who prey upon the express treasure and passengers carried by the railroads have been so active of late that the managers of properties in that section are making extra efforts to outwit the robbers. The success of Messenger Baxter in killing a road agent on the Burlington, near Omaha, a few weeks ago has put new life into the railroad people. The Union Pacific, the Burlington, the Rock Island, and the Northwestern out of Omaha are arming their messengers anew with Winchester “pump” guns, having new shells with sixteen buckshot each loaded for them, and in other ways are preparing to exterminate the first road agent band that attempts to hold up one of their trains.

Every large railroad operating out of Omaha employees from one to a dozen men whose exclusive duty it is to protect their trains from bandit raids, trail the robbers after they hold up the train, and chase them into the fastnesses of the mountains and kill or capture them. Of all the famous characters who have made bandit hunting a business, none is better known than Frederick Hans of Omaha, who is chief of the Northwestern bandit hunters. For years it has been the business of Frederick Hans to protect the treasure trains of that company operating through the Black Hills.

From Deadwood to Omaha the Northwestern carries the treasure of the great Homestake mines. During some months this company ships over $100,000 in treasure over this road. The lines of the company are operated for many miles through a wild and desolate section after leaving Deadwood. It is a most inviting spot for the work of road agents. The fact that these treasure trains escape the raids of bandits is undoubtedly due to their fear of the man who is the head of the force of bandit hunters the company employs.

Mild -Mannered but Dangerous.

Fred Hans is a mild-mannered fellow with blue eyes and of most affable address. As he saunters along the streets of Omaha he is about the last man in the world one would pick out for desperate work with rifle and revolver. Yet this same pleasant-appearing fellow, with his careless smile has been in more desperate affrays with road agents, killed more outlaws, and sent more to penitentiaries than any man in the West today. “Fred,” as he is known to nine-tenths of the people of Omaha that he gets a chance to see once a month or so, but most of his time is spent “up in the hills,” circulating among that element that is most likely to engage in hold-ups.

It is his business to locate all these characters the moment train is held up in his territory. This he can very nearly place the responsibility for a train robbery in the Northwest the day after it occurs. Incidentally, it may be said that Fred Hans carries a considerable number of bullet wounds on his person, slight testimonials of his many desperate fights.

Above image from the American Antiquarian Society website.

Another image and The Modoc Indians: A Native American Saga
by Cheewa James, Modoc Tribe of Oklahoma (Shacknasty Jim’s great-grandson) can be found HERE.

It was Fred Hans who went into the “Hole in the Wall” after “Shacknasty Jim” and his outlaw band and killed the leader and two of his companions before he returned. Again Fred Hans met five members of the famous “Robbers’ Roost” gang one bright morning on the Running Water in South Dakota. He had but shortly before that been instrumental in piloting a posse of Custer citizens to the lair of the band where nine of them had been killed, and they thought to get even. The fire road agents waited until Hans rode close to the sand hill behind which they were hiding, then rode down on him, firing their rifles as they galloped. A fortunate shot passed through the heart of the horse that Hans  was riding. Using the animal for a shield, the railroad bandit hunter got out his heavy pistols and began business right there. He only shot four times. The first bullet he fired passed through the heart of the nearest bandit, the next one struck one of the horses of the oncoming gang and killed it, the third bullet passed through the head of another bandit, killing him instantly, and the fourth passed through the body of one of the gang and he died later. The two remaining members of the band surrendered and were taken into Custer by Hans. The men he killed on the spot were known as “Texas Fleet Foot” and “Mountain Pete.” The other tow, “Long Tom” and “Skinny,” were sent to the penitentiary for life.

Colt’s 45’s His Choice.

This is the kind of a man who guards the Northwestern treasure trains through the territory west of the Mississippi River. He is probably the quickest and deadliest shot with a revolver in the West. He carries two enormous “forty-fives” of the Colt pattern of thirty years ago. The fact that the guns are of the vintage of another generation does not worry Fred Hans. He has been presented by different people with a number of handsome modern pistols, but he says he can’t shoot them like his[he] can his own “irons.”

Discussing bandit hunting and the methods of road agents in holding up trains, a few days ago Fred Hans said recently:

“It requires a man of very desperate courage to undertake to handle a railroad train crowded with passengers. Of course, you find men every day who are willing to take the chances involved in spite of the fact that few of them escape the consequences long enough to enjoy whatever they have secured in the hold-up. In truth, it is not the act of robbing the train that requires the greatest exhibition of skill and daring, but rather the escape after the crime has been committed. You see, in robbing a train the band stands little chance of opposition. Passengers are as a rule unarmed. and the express messengers are not in a position to make much of a fight. The use of dynamite by road agents is a terrifying element for express messengers. The minute the bandits start to make their escape, however, they come in contact with fighting men who are as well armed and well mounted as they are knows how to use their guns. This is the element of danger that deters many bandits from attacking a railroad train.

“When a gang of men contemplate a hold-up now, the first thing they do is to arrange for their escape. A route of retreat is selected, and the bandits go over the trail, so that they can follow it, night or day. They frequently secrete food for themselves and horses along the route and lay in plenty of ammunition. The Black Hills and the country in Southern Wyoming are favorite resorts for train robbers these days. Here most of the desperate road agents live. These men are, however, not of the class that will undertake single handed to rob a train. They operate like the James gang did, but of course are not so dangerous, because they have not the sympathy of the community in which they operate. They are not so expert with firearms as the James gang, neither are they bound together by associations such as made the James gang so successful. Those bandits merely trust each other as long as they are together, and they know it is a matter of self-preservation

Bandits’ Outfits Expensive.

“The same energy, hardship and daring these men expend in robbing trains, if turned into honest channels would reap for them a great deal more substantial profits than the dangerous business they engage in, but they are attracted by stories of enormous hauls, made by train robbers and dazzled by reports in the newspapers that this or that gang secured a hundred thousand dollars in a raid. Of course these raids sometimes net the robbers a big sum, but in most cases they do not get enough to pay the expense of the undertaking. It costs a pile of money for a gang of six or seven Western desperadoes to prepare for a train hold up. They must have the best horses money will buy, they must get a city crook, as a rule to handle the dynamite; they must have white powder for their guns in the event of a collision with a posse, which is quite certain, and a thousand little details. The minute the news of a hold-up is flashed over the wire we start posses from a dozen different points. These close in on the robbers. The road agents are afraid to split up in the face of a possible fight. They know they will be killed one at a time if they do not stick together. That is their only chance and of course it makes the trail easier for us to follow.

“The ‘Hole in the Wall’ country is the place these Western bandits now make for. That is a wild section and most difficult of access. If the gang gets in there it is hard to get at them. Usually we merely wait for them to come out, and then we get ‘em.

“Most of the bandits we come in contact with are of the most desperate character. Of course they know that sooner or later they will die with their boots on. Most of them are wanted for some crime that would keep them in the penitentiary for life if it would not carry them to the scaffold, and so of course they will not surrender. I usually hunt these characters singly and with only my pistols. It is my experience that in the wild country, a desperate character, seeing a lone man who does not carry a rifle, will permit him to approach where otherwise he would hide if the same man was armed with a rifle or accompanied by others. With my pistols I can get close to a bandit on the plains and then I jump from my horse, use the animal as a breast-work, and begin to shoot before the robber expects the attack. He surrenders or is killed, just as he prefers. My experience is that a quick shot with a pistol is worth a dozen long-range shots with rifles.

Deadly Range of 300 Yards.

“I have had some measure of success hunting road agents and have been forced to kill some of these desperate characters, but all of my work has been done with a heavy revolver. I do not recall a fight I have been in, except possibly when I was scouting in the Indian service, where I used anything but my revolvers. I can kill a man at 300 yards every shot with my pistol. I carry on my watch chain today a rifle bullet I cut from the heart of my horse. It is a souvenir of the fight I had with the ‘Robbers’ Roost’ gang on the Running Water. The man who fired the shot used a Winchester and was firing at me from a distance of 500 yards. Before he reached the range of my pistols he had probably shot at me six times, one of his bullets plowing a furrow through the top of my scalp, but the moment he came within range of my heavy revolver I placed a bullet squarely between his eyes. This was Fleet Foot, probably one of the worst murderers and road agents the West has ever produced.

“I usually carry three heavy revolvers when hunting road agents, and carry about 500 extra shells. I would rather have plenty of cartridges than plenty of food when I am looking for real bad people. My experience, however, is that train robbing has been made so dangerous that it is losing its popularity and will totally disappear in a few years.

Davenport Daily Leader (Davenport, Iowa) Nov 7, 1900

ESCAPED ROBBER CAPTURED

Frank Daniels of Omaha Placed Under Arrest.

OMAHA, Neb., Aug. 5. — (Special) –

Frank Daniels of this city, was taken to Logan, Harrison county, Iowa, this evening on a requisition charging him with robbing a freight car. His arrest grew out of the arrest of Dick Latta, by Special Detective Hans on the night of July 6, near California Junction on the Northwestern road. The detective secreted himself beside the boxes of goods that had been thrown from the train and Latta and his companion were caught when they came to get the good. Latta was held, but the companion escaped after Detective Hans fired four shots. Latta is a young man twenty-two years old living with his mother at 1622 Burt street. Daniels is one of the Daniels brothers who live near the railroad tracks in a shanty. Daniels proves to be the brother of Officer Hans’ first wife, and it is said by the friends of Latta that the two Daniels brothers got Latta into the trouble for the purpose of making some cheap glory for the detective, the plan being to allow them to escape and to hold Latta. Latta had refused to tell who was with him, and the detective showed a lack of enterprise in finding out. Latta today signed an affidavit implicating Daniels. Daniels once lived at Blair.

The Nebraska State Journal (Lincoln, Nebraska) Aug 6, 1901

“Detective Fred Hans, of the Elkhorn road is getting a whole glob of notoriety out of an arrest he made over in Harrison county a few days ago. It seems that Hans got Francis Daniels to go in cahoots with a fella by the name of Dick Latta for the purpose of plundering a freight car so that the great detective could get a chance to arrest someone just to convince the officials of the railroad that he was still true and always working for their interests.

Yesterday’s Bee contained a long article by Daniels’ accomplice laying blame on him and making it look rather ‘fishy’ for Hans when we remember that Daniels is a brother-in-law, and another article gives an interview with Daniels who claims Latta was at the bottom of it. Both Daniels and Latta are in jail in Mo. Valley and the outcome of the robbery will be watched with a great of interest by residents of this place. Daniels was arrested here three years ago for having stolen Emmett Bolt’s carpenter tools and served several months for the job. Everybody here knows Detective Hans and this escapade only brings to mind the time when a couple of men were sent to the pen for stealing corn, when it looked mighty much like Hans had his hand in the planning of the theft. Great is Hans the Detective!”

Blair Courier (Blair, Nebraska) Aug 8, 1901

“Fred Hans is surely getting his share of the ills of life since he did that wonderful piece of detective work when he landed young Latta behind the bars for breaking into a freight car near California Junction a couple of weeks ago. Hans was arrested last week over there on the charge of conspiracy and his hearing set for the 20th inst, but on Monday, Francis Daniels confessed in his part in the crime and ‘peached’ on Hans as the bloke who put up the job, his trial has now been set for September 10th.

The people of Blair and Washington county are watching this case with a great deal of interest and when they think of the ‘smooth’ work of this chief of detectives of the F. E. they are inclined to let their memory wander back to the time when they were kids and read “Old Sleuth” novels behind the corn crib and wonder if that wasn’t where Freddie got his inspiration to become a detective. To hear Hans tell it he has had many close calls and narrow escapes but never got in too late. From reading the World Herald of a couple of years ago we are constrained to believe that paper has a reporter who has a vivid imagination or was allowing Hans to make a big sucker out of him, when it told of Hans being a government scout for a number of years and describing some of his adventures on the border. In the light of this case folks are now bringing to mind many pieces of work that could be traced to his instigation.

Blair Courier (Blair, Nebraska)  Aug 22, 1901

Governor Savage issued an extradition warrant yesterday and immediately evened up the population of the state by issuing a requisition. The man extradited is Special Detective Fred M. Hans of Omaha who is charged with hatching a conspiracy to have a Northwestern train robbed of freight so he could reap the glory of a capture. Hans was sent to Logan, Ia., just across the Missouri river, where he is wanted on the charge of perjury. Frank Daniels, brother-in-law of Hans, was one of the two men implicated in the robbery. Dick Latta who was captured says he was led into a trap. Hans swore at one of he hearings that Daniels was not present when the capture was made, and Daniels testified that he was present. The requisition was for James Toman, under arrest at Cedar Rapids, Ia., who is wanted at South Omaha on the charge of assaulting James Koskeh, August 20, with intent to murder.

The Nebraska State Journal (Lincoln, Nebraska) Aug 27, 1901

HANS CHARGED WITH PERJURY.

LOGAN, Ia., Aug. 27, — The latest case of Fred M. Hans of Omaha, the railway detective charged with perjury in the Latta-Daniels arrests, has been set for September 2. He has retained Rodifer & Arthur of this place to defend him.

The Nebraska State Journal (Lincoln, Nebraska) Aug 29, 1901

IN THE GOVERNOR’S COURT

GARNETT C. PORTER OBJECT OF A REQUISITION.

DID HE SWEAR FALSELY?

Case Continued Till Tuesday to Give Porter’s Attorney’s Time

Governor Savage sat as a court yesterday and listened to argument from an attorney who told him why he should honor a requisition from the governor of Iowa for the return of Garnett C. Porter to Logan, Ia., on the charge of perjury. He also heard two able attorneys set forth reasons why he should not do any such thing. The day was warm and the governor took off his coat to permit the oratory to have its full effect. At the conclusion of the hearing he gave the defendant until Tuesday at 10:30 a.m. to show further cause why the requisition should not be honored. Mr. Porter was represented by Frank Ransom and Will F. Gurley of Omaha and the great state of Iowa was represented with due dignity by George William Egan of Logan.

Mr. Porter appears to have got into all this trouble through a desire to act as a press agent for a detective who was going out to make a raid on robbers of freight trains. Mr. Porter is a newspaper correspondent living at Omaha. When Special Detective Fred Hans invited him out to see the fun he could not resist the temptation to become a war correspondent for a short time. After two robbers were caught, Dick Latta and another man, the latter escaping in some mysterious manner, it was charged in the newspapers that the detective concocted the robbery and that his brother-in-law was the man who got away. Latta was held and pleaded guilty. The robbery of the cars took place on the Northwestern railroad on the Iowa side of the Missouri river and therefore the trial of Latta took place at Logan. Latta finally signed an affidavit charging that Hans and his brother-in-law hatched the burglary and induced him to enter into the scheme. Hans and Porter both made statements in court in regard to the case which led to the charge of perjury. Hans was taken to Iowa and gave bond for this appearance. Now an effort is being made to get Mr. Porter on Iowa soil to answer to similar charge.

The Nebraska State Journal (Lincoln, Nebraska) Oct 23, 1901

GUILTY OF MURDER.

Sioux City, Ia., Oct. 24. — Fred M. Hans, formerly a railroad detective, well known in the west, has been found guilty of the murder of David Luse on April, 1901, at Ainsworth, Neb., and was today sentenced to life imprisonment.

The Daily Review (Decatur, Illinois) Oct 24, 1903

I couldn’t find anymore about his murder/conviction, but he must have gotten released for one reason or another.

Gravestone picture from Find-A-Grave, posted by Dennis & Gal Conn Bell.

SLAYER OF 23 DIES IN ACCIDENT

Famous Indian Warrior Crushed in Elevator Shaft

SAVED LIVES OF MANY

Defended Whites in Battle Against Red Men

OMAHA, Neb. — (Associated Press)–

Fighting, smiling, gray-haired, old “Lone Star” Fred M. Hans, Indian fighter, frontier scout and possibly last of the real “two gun cross arm draw” experts net death here last night with his “boots on.” But death did not come on the field of battle where he had so often faced it, nor on the wings of a bullet. He was crushed to death in an elevator shaft at the Omaha World Herald plant where he was night watchman.

Lone Star was caught by the elevator when he attempted to move the control lever from the outside and the lift suddenly shot upward.

Lone Star began his career as plainsman at the age of 16, when he left home to search for a brother kidnapped by Sioux Indians. He broke into fame first in 1876 in the “Hole in the Wall” country, Powder River, Wyoming, when single-handed he shot and killed “Shacknasty” Jim and his two fellow bandits. It was Lone Star’s hammer fanning that won the unequal fight.

The Indians called him “We-Cha-Pe-Wan-Ge-La,” which means Lone Star.

PROMINENT EVENTS

Other high spots of Hans’ life were:

Shot and killed two stage coach bandits April 12, 1877, near Valentine, Neb. Shot five Indians in battle of Little Missouri near Black Hills, August 31, 1877, saving the lives of a party of twenty prospectors. Killed eleven Indians with 12 shots, using both guns, hammer fanning, in the battle of Wounded Knee, South Dakota, in 1892 [I think this should be 1891]. Killed bandit Ainsworth, Nebraska in 1878. Shot and killed bandit in Fremont, Neb., in 1897. Was official war department investigator of Custer massacre and followed Sitting Bull six hundred miles on horseback, inducing him and his band to return to the reservation.

Was present at Sitting Bull’s death; was chief scoutmaster for General Phil Sheridan for six years; was chief special agent of the Northwestern railroad for years. In all Hans was credited with having killed eight white and twenty Indians.

“I was never beaten on the draw,” he often declared.

Until a month ago, Hans wore a scalp lock 13 inches long which he kept curled under a skull cap as he sat around in the Herald editorial rooms at night, often displaying his skill with his two guns to reporters and visitors.

“No one is after it now,” he explained when he ordered his lock cut off.

Lima News (Lima, Ohio) Apr 18, 1923

DEATH CLAIM IS SETTLED

World Herald Company Pays $2,650 to Heirs of Nightwatchman Killed in Elevator.

State Compensation Commissioner, L.B. Frye has approved a lump sum settlement in which the World Herald Building company of Omaha paid $2,650 to the heirs of an employee, Fred M. Hans, night watchman who was instantly killed by a freight elevator of the World Herald building, April 17. The heirs agreed to this and the case was dismissed. The question of whether Hans had dependent heirs or was negligent in starting the elevator which killed him had arisen. The divorced wife, Roberta M. Hans, is alleged to have resumed marital relations. She was given $1,525 of the lump sum settlement and is to pay the cost of burial over and above $150 allowed by law for that purpose. The federal bill was $369. Lillian Caroline Budd, a child of the deceased watchman, was given $875. Grace L. Davis, another child was given $100.

The Evening State Journal and Lincoln Daily News (Lincoln, NE) Sep 21, 1923

*****

Read the book written by Fred Hans: (Google Books link)

The great Sioux nation:  A complete history of Indian life and warfare in America By Frederic Malon Hans. 1907

Little Johnny Clem

Image above can be found on Find-A-Grave (posted by Grave Tagr,) along with a biographical sketch and pictures of his gravestone.

The Youngest Soldier in the Army of the Cumberland.

Last evening, at the Caledonia supper, Gen. Rosecrans exhibited the photograph of a boy, who, he said, was the youngest soldier in the army of the Cumberland. — His name is Johnny Clem, twelve years of age, a member of company C, 22d, Michigan infantry. His home is at Newark, Ohio. He first attracted Rosecrans’ attention during a review at Nashville, where he was acting as marker for his regiment. His extreme youth (he is quite small for his age) and intelligent appearance interested the general, and calling him out, he questioned him as to his name, age, regiment, &c. Gen. Rosecrans spoke encouragingly to the young soldier and told him to come and see him whenever he came where he was.

He saw no more of Clem until Saturday last, when he went to his place of residence — the Burnett House — and found Johnny Clem sitting on his sofa, waiting to see him. Johnny had experienced some of the vicissitudes of war since they last met. He had been captured by Wheeler’s cavalry, near Bridgeport. His captors took him to Wheeler, who saluted him with –

“What are you doing here, you d—-d little Yankee acoundrel?”

Said Johnny Clem, stoutly — “General Wheeler, I am no more a d—–d scoundrel than you are, sir.”

Johnny said that the rebels stole about all that he had, including his pocket book, which contained only twenty-five cents.

“But I would not have cared for the rest,” he added, “if they hadn’t stole my hat, which had three bullet holes in it, received at Chickamauga.”

He was finally paroled and sent north. On Saturday he was on his way to camp Chase to join his regiment, having been exchanged. Gen. Rosecrans observed that the young soldier had chevrons on his arm, and asked the meaning of it. He said he was promoted to a corporal for shooting a rebel colonel at Chickamauga.

The colonel was mounted, and stopped Johnny on the fied, crying “stop you little Yankee devil.” Johnny halted bringing his Austrian rifle to an “order,” thus throwing the colonel off his guard, cocked his piece, (which he could easily do, being so short) and suddenly bringing it to his shoulder, fired, the colonel falling dead, with a bullet through his breast.

The little fellow told his story simply and modestly, and the general determined to honor his bravery. He gave him the badge of “roll of honor,” which Mrs. Saunders, the wife of the host of the Burnett House, sewed upon Johnny’s coat. His eyes glistened with pride as he looked upon his badge, and little Johnny seemed to have grown an inch or two taller, he stood so erect. He left his photograph with General Rosecrans, who exhibits it with pride. We may again hear from Johnny Clem, the youngest soldier in the Army of the Cumberland.

– Cincinnati Times.

The Daily Gazette (Janesville, Wisconsin) Dec 18, 1863

LITTLE JOHNNY CLEM.

Of course you remember the story of little Johnny Clem, the motherless atom of a drummer-boy, aged ten, who strayed away from Newark, Ohio; and the first we knew of him, though small enough to live in a drum, was beating the long roll for the 22d Michigan. At Chickamauga he filled the office of “marker,” carrying the guidon whereby they form the lines; a duty having its counterpart in the surveyor’s more peaceful calling, in the flagman who flutters the red signal along the metes and bounds. On the Sunday of the battle, the little fellow’s occupation gone, he picked up a gun that had fallen from some dying hand, provided himself with amunition, and began putting in the periods quite on his own account, blazing away close to the ground, like a fire-fly in the grass. Late in the waning day, the waif left almost alone in the whirl of battle, a rebel colonel dashed up, and looking down at him, ordered him to surrender.

“Surrender!” he shouted, “You little d—-d son of a —–!”

The words were hardly out of his mouth when Johnny brought his piece to “order arms,” and as his hand slipped down to the hammer, he pressed it back, swung up the gun to the position of “charge bayonet,” and as the officer raising his sabre to strike the gun aside, the glancing barrel lifted into range, and the proud colonel tumbled from his horse, his lips fresh-stained with the syllable of vile reproach that he had flung on a mother’s grave in the hearing of her child! A few swift moment’s ticked on by musket shots, and the tiny gunner was swept up at a rebel swoop and borne away a prisoner. Soldiers, bigger but not better, were taken with him only to be washed back again by a surge of federal troopers, and the prisoner of thirty minutes was again John Clem “of ours;” and Gen. Rosecrans made him segeant, and the stripes of rank covered him all over, like a mouse in a harness; and the daughter of Mr. Secretary Chase presented him a silver medal appropriately inscribed, which he worthily wears, a royal order of honor, upon his left breast; and all men conspired to spoil him; but, since few ladies can get at him here, perhaps he may be saved.

Well, like Flora McFlimsy, the sergeant ‘had nothing to wear,’ the clothing in the wardrobe of loyal livary was not at all like Desdemonia’s handkerchief, “too little,” but like the garments of the man who roomed a month over a baker’s over, a “world too wide;” and so Miss Babcock of the sanitary commission, suggested that a uniform for the little orderly would be acceptable. Mr. Waite and other gentlemen of the “Sherman House” ordered it, Messrs. A.D. Titsworth & Co., made it, Chaplain Raymond brought it, Miss Babcock presented it, and Johnny put it on. Chaplain Raymond, of the 51st Illinois — by the by, a most earnest and efficient officer — accompanied the gift with exceedingly appropriate suggestions and advice. I happened at headquarters just as the belted and armed sergeant was booted and spurred, and ready to ride. Resplendent in his elegant uniform, rigged cap-a-pie, modest, frank, with a clear and a manly face, he looked more like a fancy picture than a living thing. Said he to the chaplain; “you captured me by surprise yesterday.” Now, he is “going on” thirteen, as our grandmothers used to say; but he would be no monster if we called him only nine. Think of a sixty-three pound sergeant — fancy a handful of a hero, and then read the Arabian Nights, and believe them. Long live the little Orderly!

Rebellion Record.

CENTRALIA SENTINEL (Centralia, Marion Co., Illinois) Nov 16, 1865

THE BOY OF CHICKAMAUGA.

Little Johnny Clem’s Brave Work
(From the Cincinnati Gazette.)

There are but few persons who read the current events of the war for the Union as they were transpiring, who do not remembers, among the enduring record of brilliant achievements made by distinguished officers and the gallant rank and file of the army, the invincible spirit and soldierly qualities displayed by that remarkable child soldier known as “Little Johnny Clem, the drummer boy of Chickamauga.”

Various references from time to time respecting this infantile prodigy of the war have appeared in books and newspapers, yet all have failed to embody some of the most prominent incidents herein narrated connected with his army life. The “Rebellion Record,” by Frank Moore, and Lossing’s “History of the Civil War in America,” have each consigned to the pages of history the undaunted deed that has enrolled his name forever among the most gallant and devoted spirits that participated in the hard fought battle of Chickamauga, as well as other battles to the close of the war. Lossing speaks of little Clem as “probably the youngest person who ever bore arms in battle;” hence every incident connected with his entering the army, and while therein, possesses peculiar interest to those who watched the trembling balances of their country’s fate, and the valor of those to whose keeping they were confided.

John L. Clem, a motherless atom of a drummer boy, who might have been placed, in April, 1861, within a “regulation” drum, was born in Newark, Ohio, August 13, 1851, and in May, 1861, shortly after the war broke out, offered his infantile services as a drummer to Captain McDougal, of the 3d Ohio regiment, which was then passing through his native town, but on account of his size and tender age, not being yet ten years old, he was rejected, the regiment was on his way to the front, and having taken passage on the cars for Cincinnati, our little hero went down on the same train, where he offered himself to the 22d Michigan, who also declined to muster him in on account of his size and years, but owing to the persevering spirit with which he maintained his determination to follow the fortunes of his country upon the field, he was allowed to accompany the regiment in all its subsequent movements, until at length he was beating the “long roll” in front of Shiloh April, 1862, where his soldierly spirit so _on the confidence and admiration of the regiment that in June or July, 1862, he was enlisted at Covington, Ky., as a drummer, but serving afterward also as a marker.”

At Shiloh (known as Pittsburg Landing), his drum was smashed by a shell, which occurrence earned for him the appellation of “Johnny Shiloh,” as a title of distinction for the fearless manner in which he discharged his duty at that bloody battle; and at Chickamauga, of which we shall speak presently, that field of Thomas’ glory and renown, he received the title of “The Drummer Boy of Chickamauga,” under which he has already passed into story, where his name and title will live forever in connection with an act there performed by him, which for coolness and undaunted valor, is not equaled on the pages of ancient or modern warfare, in one so young, and which won for him the highest meed? of praise from Rosecrans and Thomas, and every other officer and man of the Army of the Cumberland.

Here little Johnny Clem, having just passed his twelfth year, exchanged the “long roll” of the drum for the “brisk fire” ___ the deadly musket; and on the 23d day of September, 1863, when the line of battle was about being formed, our little drummer boy, now acting as a “marker,” might have been seen with his trusty little musket, as it afterward proved — which had been shortened for his use — seated upon a __aisson side by side with artillerymen, going sto the front to form the line and face the coming storm of death in common with others. The line being formed, he now took his position in the ranks, and with his little musket began putting in the periods? quite on his own account, blazing away close to the ground like a firefly in the grass. At the close of hte day, when the army was retiring toward Chattanooga, the brigade to which little Johnny was attached was ordered to hold its position, but  ___ing afterward surrounded bythe rebels, demand for its surrender was made directly after its charge had been repulsed. When a rebel colonel rode up toward our little hero, who could not fall back as rapidly as the rest of the line, and made a special demand for him, exclaiming, “Halt! Surrender! you d–n little Yankee s-n of a b—h!” still coming with his sword drawn upon little Johnny, who had now brought his musket to an “order arms,” and in doing which he slipped his hand down the barrel and cocked it while at an “order,” when our little hero suddenly swung up his musket to the position of “charge bayonet” and fired! when lo! our little David brought down the proud Goliah! who fell from his saddle, his lips fresh stained with the reproachful epithet he had just flung upon a mother grave in the hearing of her child! Simultaneous with the performance of this brilliant deed the regiment to which little Johnny belonged was fired into by the surrounding rebels, when he fell as though he had been shot, and laid there until darkness closed in, when he arose and made his way to Chattanooga, after the rest of the army. Now, all history may be searched in vain for an instance of such forethought, courage and self-reliance as this. A reference to this most daring act in the papers of the day was the first intimation his family had received of his whereabouts during his two years’ absence and upward.

Lossing’s History speaks of him as having received three balls through his cap during the fortunes of the day at Chickamauga, which statement has since been full confirmed, only that they were received directly after he had shot the rebel colonel. For his undaunted valor and heroic conduct he was made a sergeant by Rosecrans, who placed him on the roll of honor and attached him to the headquarters of the Army of the Cumberland; and a daughter of Secretary Chase presented him with a silver medal inscribed, “Sergeant Johnny Clem, 22d Michigan Vol. Inf., from N.M.C.,” which he worthily wears as a priceless badge of honor upon his left breast, in connection with his grand army medal.

In a few days after little Johnny’s arrival at Chattanooga, our tiny gunner was captured with others, while detailed to aid in bringing up the supply train from Bridgeport, Alabama, and held in captivity for sixty-three days, during which time he was kept on the move until he was at length paroled down near Tallahassee, Florida, and sent to Camp Chase for exchange, which was not complied with.

Having captured this gallant little prize, the rebels despoiled him of the companionship of his little bullet torn cap, which he endeavored in vain to retain as a reminscence in the future of the perils through which he had passed, taking also from him his jacket and shoes. Upon reaching our lines, he found General Thomas in command of the Army of the Cumberland, who received him with the warmest enthusiasm and made him an orderly sergeant and attached him on his staff.

In addition to the battles of Shiloh and Chickamauga, he was at Perryville, Stone River (sometimes called Murfresboro), Resaca, Kenesaw, Peach Tree Creek, Atlanta, Nashville and others, where the Army of the Cumberland covered itself with so much glory.

Besides the three balls that passed thro’ his little cap at Chickamauga, he was struck once with a fragment of shell upon his hip and twice by balls. Upon one of the latter occasions, he was in the act of delivering a dispatch from General Thomas to General Logan at Atlanta, when a ball struck his little pony obliquely near the top of his head, killing him, and wounding his fearless little rider in the shoulder. He is held in the highest estimation by all the officers and men of the Army of the Cumberland, and General Thomas was his fast friend and correspondent up to the time of his death. He served until the end of the war, when he was honorably mustered out, and at once directed his attention to qualifying himself for a cadetship at West Point, to which he has been appointed a cadet at large by President Grant, upon the recommendation of Generals Thomas and Logan, and other officers of the Army of the Cumberland, in recognition of his gallant services. Owing, however, to the limited opportunities previously afforded him, he was rather unsuccessful in passing his examination last fall in one branch only, having had as fair a general average in the other branches as the majority of those who did pass; but he is now diligently prosecuting his studies during the spare time he is not employed at his desk in the Census office at Washington, with confidence in his ultimate success when again before the board. He is still small in size, very youthful in appearance, and a consistent member of one of our prominent religious denominations; and his pleasant address and modest deportment win the confidence of all with whom he is brought into intercourse.

Decatur Review (Decatur, Illinois) May 4, 1871

Image and an article can be found at Edrumline Crossing the Line

JOHNNY CLEM

Some Interesting Facts of the “Drummer Boy of the Chicamauga” — His Parentage — Career Curing and Since the Late War.

(Special Correspondence to the Dispatch)
NEWARK, July 20, 1880.

A person passing through the markets any Wednesday or Saturday, can see a medium-sized man, with straggling gray hairs and a face that plainly indicates the possessor’s German extraction, standing behind a rudely constructed bench loaded down with vegetables and garden truck. Through rains and storms this silent and seemingly contented German market tender has stood at his allotted market space. He lives and has lived, for the last twenty years, in a small and comfortable house, about a mile from this city, on the Granville road. This is the father of Johnny Clem, whom everybody in the Army of the Cumberland knew as “the drummer boy of Chickamauga.”

At the breaking out of the war, Johnny was struck with the martial music of the troops recruiting in this city, and ran away from home, going into the army as a drummer boy. Everybody is familiar with the history of this daring lad, who was petted by the officers and soldiers on all sides. During the war he became a favorite Orderly of General George H. Thomas, who, at the close of the war, assumed a sort of guardianship over him, and took a special interest in his welfare.

Johnny was sent to school at West Point, where he graduated, and soon afterwards entered the regular army and was stationed at Texas. Here he met General Brown’s daughter, and soon after married her. It was not long after his marriage that he was promoted and stationed at Fort Brown, Texas, where he still remains on duty.

Every summer he visits his aged parents and renews old acquaintances with his school-mates and companions. Johnny’s brother Louis, entered the regular army some few years ago, and, during an engagement on the Western frontier with the Indians, was massacred. The death of the brave boy weighed heavily on his aged father, and he frequently relates his sorrows to attentive listeners.

‘Pap’ Thomas frequently wrote to his protege, and a paragraph from one dated at Nashville, June 27, 1866, has special interest at the present time. The following is an exact:

“DEAR JOHNNIE — Do you remember the story of General Garfield’s life? He worked on a canal, and educated himself by buying his text book, which he studied at every leisure moment, while the canal was not frozen up. Now he is one of the most distinguished of our Representatives in Congress. He was also greatly distinguished as a soldier during the late war.”

Johnny Clem acquired a national reputation, as the youngest and smallest soldier in the Union army, as well as for gallant conduct.

The Marion Daily Star (Marion, Ohio) Jul 30, 1880

Image from http://auction.igavel.com

CAPTAIN JOHN CLEM

Incidents of His Early Life Recalled by a Meeting with Mrs. Grant.

The many friends in Newark of Captain John Clem of the United States Army will be interested in the following taken from the Columbus Dispatch:

Columbus people will undoubtedly read with interest the details of a meeting between Mrs. U.S. Grant and Captain John Clem which occurred at Atlanta yesterday. Captain Clem, now Assistant Quartermaster General of the army, was for a long time stationed at the Garrison in this city and, departing, left a legion of friends. His meeting with the widow of General Grant occurred at a reception she was holding for Confederate veterans at Atlanta. This favor had been asked by the veterans and readily granted. Among other who called to pay their respects to Mrs. Grant was Captain Clem.

“Of course I know Captain Clem if it is Johnny Clem, the drummer boy,” said Mrs. Grant when introduced to him, “I remember so well hearing my husband tell of how he found you at Shiloh that day beating the long roll and telling you you were a brave boy, but ought to be home.”

Captain Clem received his appointment as a lieutenant at the hands of President Grant. Of the reception in general Mrs. Grant said, “I regard it as one of the most handsome compliments that has ever been paid to me.”

Newark Daily Advocate (Newark, Ohio) Jan 31, 1895

Image from http://img.groundspeak.com

“JOHNNY” CLEM

To Be a Major — Honor Paid to a Newark Boy.

A dispatch from Atlanta conveys the intelligence that Captain John L. Clem, Assistant United States Quartermaster, stationed at Atlanta, has received work from Washington that he will be promoted to the next grade to which he is eligible, (Quartermaster with rank of Major) as soon as a vacancy occurs.

“Johnny Clem will be remembered as “The Drummer Boy of Shiloh.”
His many friends congratulate him on his prospective appointment.

Newark Daily Advocate (Newark, Ohio) Feb 14, 1895

Image from www.pearcecollections.us

A Soldier at 11.

There are only 77 officers on the active list of the army below the grade of general who served in the Civil War. All of these with one exception will soon be retired. The exception is that of Col. John L Clem, of the quartermaster’s department, whose age limit will not be reached until 1915. This extended time is due to the fact that “Little Johnny Clem, the drummer boy of Chickamauga,” as he was familiarly known, was probably the youngest person who ever bore arms in battle.

Col. Clem was also known as “Johnny Shiloh,” from the fact that in the battle of Shiloh he rode to the firing line on a caisson by the side of a veteran artilleryman, and then performed an act of daring in such a brave and cool manner that it gave him a name in history. He drummed the charge at Shiloh when he was only 11 years old, and with his short musket he killed the Confederate colonel who demanded his surrender at Chickamuaga. He is a popular officer, not only with his fellows of the army, but in social circles as well, being as genial a man as he is chivalrous a soldier.

Col. Clem was born in Ohio on Aug. 13, 1851, and in May, 1861, before he was 10 years old, he offered his services to the Third Ohio Regiment as drummer, but the mustering officer declined to enlist him because of his size and his youth. Later he offered his services to the Twenty-second Michigan, and though enlistment was refused, he was permitted to accompany the regiment to the field and to beat the “long roll” in front of Shiloh in April 1862. His soldierly manner and conduct in that engagement so won the confidence and admiration of the officers of the regiment that in May, 1863, he was permitted to enlist as a drummer and was then known as “Johnny Shiloh.” But it was on Sept. 23, 1863, at the battle of Chickamauga, that he displayed especial bravery. He had just passed his 12th birthday anniversary and had laid aside his drum for a musket, the barrel of which had been cut down for his use; and after acting as a “marker” for a time he took his place in the ranks. As the day closed, and the army retired to Chattanooga, his brigade was ordered by the enemy to surrender, and “Little Johnny” was himself covered by the sword of a Confederate colonel. His regiment was then fired into, and, falling as if shot, the juvenile soldier lay close until dar, when he went to Chattanooga and joined his command. But as he fell to the ground he fired at the Confederate officer and killed him, and so demoralized the Confederate com???? in such a way that his own associates escaped capture.

For his bravery young Clem was made a sergeant by Gen. Rosecrans and detailed to the headquarters of the Department of the Cumberland. He also received a silver medal from the hands of Miss Kate Chase, daughter of Chief Justice Chase. He was afterward captured by the Confederates and held prisoner for 68 days, and after his release he was promoted to orderly sergeant by Gen. Thomas. He was discharged from the service in September, 1864, when he returned to his old home and attended school, being graduated from the Newark High School in 1870. President Grant, who had kept watch of “Little Johnny” after the war ended, appointed him a second lieutenant in the regular army in 1871. Three years later he went to the artillery school at Fortress Monroe for a course of instruction in military science, and a year later passed a most sucessful examination.

The Daily Herald (Delphos, Ohio) Nov 13, 1903

SOLDIER AT TEN, IS TO QUIT ARMY

Colonel Clem Last Civil War Veteran In Active Service.

FIRST WOND FAME AT SHILOH

Fought With Little Musket Which Men of His Regiment Fashioned For Him — His Memorable Encounter With a Confederate Colonel After Chickamauga — Youngest Sergeant.
[Excerpt]

Youngest Sergeant Army Has Had.

After the battle General Rosecrans made Clem a sergeant — the youngest of that rank who ever served in the United States army.

Following the battle of Chickamauga, when the Union army was retiring toward Chattanooga, the brigade to which Clem was attached had been ordered to hold its position. The position became untenable, and the brigade fell back and, in doing so, lost “Little Johnny” Clem.

Suddenly out of the woods he came like a scared rabbit and ran full tilt into a Confederate colonel.

“My but you are a little shaver to be in this business!” the Confederate officer said, “But war is war, so you had better drop that gun.”

Instead, the boy fired point blank. The colonel fell from his horse badly wounded, and Johnny darted into the bushes. Late that night he turned up at Chattanooga.

The Confederate colonel, who recovered, afterward said he would never get over the suprise “that kid gave him.”

Adams County News (Gettysburg, Pennsylvania) Jul 4, 1914

“LITTLEST HERO OF CIVIL WAR” TO RETIRE FRIDAY THIRTEENTH

Brigadier General John L. Clem, “The Drummer Boy of Chickamauga,” and the Last Civil War Veteran in the U.S. Army, Will Go Out of Service On His “Lucky Day” — Gets a Job With His Son in San Antonio.

When Colonel John Lincoln Clem, officer in the Quartermaster Department at Washington and personal friend of hundreds of San Antonians, is retired from active service with the rank of brigadier general Friday, the thirteenth of August, this year, the last living link between the present United States army and the armies that participated in the civil war will be severed. Colonel Clem is the only veteran of that tremendous conflick still in active service with the United States Army.

After active service in the army for more than 45 years — he could have retired 15 years ago had he wanted to — “[the littlest hero] of the civil war,” and one of the most interesting figures in the army of the United States at the present time will quit active service and come to San Antonio to make his home as Brigadier General John L. Clem, U.S.A., retired.

He was born on Friday, the thirteenth of August, 1851; while he is not the least bit superstitious, the combination of Friday and the thirteenth day of the month, has marked the luckiest events of his life, and he will retire when that combination occurs in August on his sixty-fourth birthday. More than once in his lifetime has he remarked upon incidents which have turned out to his advantage occurring on the thirteenth of hte month and usually when that date fell on Friday. It is a strange coincidence that almost every time he was advised of promotion in the army, the notice came to him on the thirteenth day of the month.

Asks Son for a Job.

And when this combination occurs on the calendar next month he will retire from active service in the army, but not from active participation in affairs of the world. Brigadier General John Lincoln Clem, U.S.A., retired, hero of the civil war and late important figure in quartermasters affairs at Washington, will come to San Antonio to become automobile salesman in the regular employ of the Collins-Clem Automobile Company, one of the proprietors of which is his son, John L. Clem Jr.

Recently Colonel Clem wrote to his son: “I hereby make formal application for a position as automobile salesman with the Collins-Clem Automobile Company, distributers of Studebaker cars in the San Antonio district. Please advise me of your decision in the matter.” Then he wrote down at the bottom: “I am yet just as good a man as you are, son, and I can do just as much hard work in one day as you can, if I am a little old. I am going to buy a car from you, hire me a chauffeur to drive me on demonstrations, and I will sell as many cars as you will.”

This letter, as much as many other incidents in his life, brings out the quality in his character which have made him one of the most beloved of men among his associates.

“Invaded” Mexico.

One of these incidents, which forms the theme of a story many of his friends take great delight in relating about him, occurred on the Rio Grande frontier shortly after he entered the United States army as a second lieutenant. Lieutenant Clem was placed in charged of a squad of soldiers sent out to apprehend cattle thieves. The soldiers trailed the outlaws five days, but were unable to get closer than within a few miles of the rapidly fleeing band. The cattle thieves escaped across the Rio Grande and stood on the other side making motions at the soldiers, which Lieutenant Clem understood as essentially insulting. He resented their actions intensely, and at the head of his squad, crossed over the river into Mexico, gave chase to the desperadoes, and in an engagement the cattle thieves were killed to the last man.

Shortly after the incident, Lieutenant Clem received a letter from the commander of the department, General E.O.C. Ord. Lieutenant Clem was officially reprimanded. He was told that his conduct was unbecoming an officer of the United States army, he had been guilty of tremendous lack of judgement, he had violated the neutrality laws and his action might result in complications between two nations at peace. Such an escapade must never be repeated, on pain of serious consequences to the perpetrator.

The Heart of a Soldier.

The communication was officially signed in ink. A penciled inscription, in the department commander’s handwriting at the bottom of the page, read: “Good boy, Johnny, do it again.”

A newspaper correspondent in Washington asked Colonel Clem, on the occasion of the last memorial day, what memory was uppermost in his mind that day. And the famous old soldier, who, at the age of 12 years, was the twice-wounded veteran of one of the greatest campaigns of history, did not reply with a tale of sanguinary adventure.

“My memory pictures today what my kid eyes saw fifty-one years ago today,” he said gently, “a soldier in blue an a soldier in gray, shaking hands like two loving comrades between the trneches, swapping tobacco and coffee. In the morning they were to stab each other brutally with bayonets in a fierce hand-to-hand fight for those very trenches. Yet what I like to think of first on memorial day is not the bloody fight, but that tender scene preceding it, which showed me that after all, man to man, we soldiers of the north and of the south were friends and brothers always. We of the north hated that which they fought for, but we did not hate them personally, nor they us.

Was Impersonal War.

“And that is the most hallowed of my memories on this memorial day, for it brings back the thought that we who fought to kill each other were really never enemies. It was a war of cannon against fortress, of rifle against trench, but never of man against his brother man!

“It is the great tragedy of those bloody deaths we brought each other, but not because of hatred for each other, but for the sake of a principle, that we must think of on this sacred memorial day.”

Johnny Clem ran away from his home in Newark, O., when he was ten years old and attached himself to the Twenty-second Michigan regiment. The officers tried to chase him away, but the soldiers made him a pet and mascot and, finally, in May, 1862, the colonel enlisted him.

He was the hero of a brilliant scene at Chickamauga performed right under the eyes of his Union comrades, who were falling back rapidly. Johnny’s poor little legs were weary, and, so he lagged behind, a Confederate colonel galloped up to him, “Surrender, you damned little Yankee devil,” he cried.

Loved Life by Feigning Death.

Weak and tired though he was, his nerves never quivered. He pulled up his heavy musket — he had abandoned his drum — and fired. The colonel fell headlong from his horse, and a volley of bullets from the men behind him rained over Johnny Clem. Johnny’s comrades on the hill saw their heroic little soldier boy fall face downward. The battle raged four hours after that, and at dark the Union forces rested. Suddenly, into their bivouac crept Johnny Clem, unhurt, and displaying with tremendous pride his cap pierced by three bullet holes. He had saved his own life by shamming death.

General Thomas made the hero drummer boy a sergeant for that deed of bravery. And when the general advised him of promotion, the youngster answered: “General, is that all you’re going to make me?”

Later in his civil war careet, the 12-year-old soldier was hit on the hip by part of a shell, wounded in the ear while dispatch riding and once taken prisoner.
He is probably the only living man who voted legally at an age under 15. At the time Lincoln was elected the second time, all soldiers of the army were allowed to vote. Johnny Clem was a soldier in the army and he voted.

Johnny Clem went to high school when the war was over and then entered the army as second lieutenant. In his early service, he was the central figure in many exciting adventures on the Texas frontier. He is one of the very few infantry officers to graduate from the army artillary school and holds other distinctions for service in the army.

To Know Him Is To Love Him.

He was stationed at Fort Sam Houston for the first time in 1900 in the quartermaster department. He remained here four years, after which time he became chief of the quartermaster department of the Philippines, with headquarters in Manila. Two years later he was transferred to San Francisco and later returned to Fort Sam Houston as chief of hte quartermaster department of the Department of Texas. While stationed here, he probably made more friends among San Antonians than any other army officer who has ever been quartered at the army post.

Colonel Clem left Fort Sam Houston four years ago when he was transferred to the quartermaster department in Washington. He has been connected with the quartermaster department in Washington for the last two years.

After retiring from the army August 13, Colonel Clem will spend several months in the north and east,. At Dayton, O., a city-wide celebration, to be known as Clem day, has been arranged in his honor by Colonel Clem Garrison, Army and Navy Union, and the Grand Army of the Republic organization in that city.

He will come to San Antonio about December 1 to make his home.

THE SAN ANTONIO LIGHT (San Antonio, Texas) Jul 11, 1915

*****

Read more about Johnny Clem:

Ohio History Central: Johnny Klem – Johnny Clem

Learn Civil War History: A Civil War Blog of History and Stories:  Johnny Clem

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LONDON PRESS OPINION.

The Difference Between Cleveland and Blaine.

LONDON, July 12. — The Daily News says:

America’s foreign relations will be safer in Cleveland’s hands than in those of Blaine. The latter represents the American jingo party which, like the same party here, makes up in audacity and volubility for lack of numbers. As president, Cleveland would cultivate quietude abroad and peace at home. If elected, he will be chosen on the ground that he will more worthily represent the good sense and studied moderation of the American people than Blaine.

Galveston Daily News (Galveston, Texas) Jul 13, 1884

Henry Watterson (Image from Wikimedia)

Mr. Henry Watterson is credited with the brilliant remark that “the longer Grover Cleveland has been before the people the more he has weakened.” That is the sort of candidate the Democrats usually nominate.

Inquiring youth – “Father, is Mr. Blaine a very bad man?”

Democratic father – “Oh, yes, my son, he is one of the most dangerous men in the country.”

I.Y. — “What did he do that makes him so bad?”

D.F. — “Why, in the first place he had a mother who was a Roman Catholic, and a father who was a Presbyterian, while he is Congregationalist. Then again, he is a bold, shrewd man with immense influence and great ability, and in addition to that he is intensely American, intensely American.”

I.Y. – “Yes, but what has he done?”

D.F. – “Why, you young blockhead, isn’t what I’ve told you enough?”

NOTE. – The woods are ful of d.f.s who are using the above unanswerable arguments against Mr. Blaine.

Reno Evening Gazette (Reno, Nevada) Jul 21, 1884

Image from www.historycooperative.org

The man and Democrat who suggests that Cleveland take the stump and discuss public questions with Blaine, is no friend of Cleveland or his party, and should retire.

This is the fifth time the would-be-in-power Democracy have added the “reform” dodge to the tail of their ticket. Every man they have put up has been claimed as a reformer.

The work of making a great man out of Grover Cleveland, says the Cincinnati Commercial Gazette, seems to halt because of circumstances over which the laborers have no control.

Reno Evening Gazette (Reno, Nevada) Aug 12, 1884

Cleveland as Hamlet (Image from www.loc.gov)

NO DEMOCRAT or Republican supposes for a moment that Cleveland will write his own letter of acceptance, because they know that the Democratic bosses dare not trust him to do so. No Democrat or Republican doubts that Blaine wrote his masterly letter himself, because they well know he can do it better than any one can do it for him.

No one knows what Cleveland’s views are on any of the great public questions; he does not know himself, probably.

No one is ignorant of Blaine’s views on those questions, because he has been for fifteen years the leading American statesman.

To compare James G. Blaine to Sheriff Cleveland is “Hyperion to a Satyr,” something to nothing, matter to space.

Oshkosh Daily Northwestern (Oshkosh, Wisconsin) Aug 5, 1884

Grover Cleveland's Wedding (Image from Wikimedia)

EDITORIAL NOTES.

The telegraph says President Cleveland and bride will soon make a trip to Europe, probably as soon as congress adjourns. No president while in office ever was outside the boundary lines of the United States, and we suggest to Mr. Cleveland that he ride over a little of his own country before going abroad.

Reno Evening Gazette (Reno, Nevada) Jun 2, 1886

Grover Cleveland

Jeffersonian simplicity at Washington is thus described by Editor Watterson: “I have seen Washington under 10 administrations, and I never dreamed that such arrogance and insolence as now prevails were possible. I would not, as a self-respecting man, venture to enter any Department where I am not personally known.”

Reno Evening Gazette (Reno, Nevada) Mar 7, 1887

Civil War Graves (Image from www.old-picture.com)

Death of Cleveland’s Substitute

NEW YORK, August, 20.
A Bath (New York) special says: George Brinski, the man who claimed to have served three years in the Union Army during the war of the rebellion, as a substitute for Grover Cleveland, died in the Soldiers’ Home near here at 12:30 yesterday morning of consumption.

Reno Evening Gazette (Reno, Nevada) Aug 20, 1887

Image from www.gutenberg.org

On the Pyramid Reservation, somebody, who has an eye to the eternal fitness of things, has named the only blind Indian boy there “Grover Cleveland.”

Reno Evening Gazette (Reno, Nevada) Oct 3, 1887

Image from www.nyise.org

THE Sacramento Bee salutes the President’s message as follows:

President Grover Cleveland has written a message. We tender to him our sympathy. We congratulate the Republican party. WE doff our hats to James G. Blaine, the next President of this nation. Let the voters read the Free Trade message of Grover Cleveland.

Let the manufacturers read it.

Let the workingmen read it.

Let the men who are dependent upon their daily toil for their daily bread read it.

Let them know that the Democratic Moses who has brought his party out of the wilderness of twenty-four years of defeat to deprive the American laboring citizen of his daily bread, who attempts to sanctify a doctrine that might leave the wives and children to the tender hands of charity.

For, just so sure as free trade prevails in this land, just so sure will engines be stopped, just so sure will the fire go out in the forge, just so sure will the busy whirr of wheels be ended in many and many a manufacturing town of this nation, which to-day has its greatest pride in its strong intelligent, honest and happy workers.

The manufacturers of this country cannot compete with pauper labor of foreign countries, England included.

Give us Free Trade, and if the wheels ever whirl again, they will keep time to the tears of the wives of good American citizens and to the jabber of paupers imported from abroad.

Reno Evening Gazette (Reno, Nevada) Dec 7, 1887

MRS. HALPIN SPEAKS.
The Unfortunate Woman Tells the Story of Her Acquaintance With Cleveland.

New York [Special.]

During the last three months the story of Governor Cleveland and Maria Halpin has occupied much public attention, but until now no public word has been heard from the unfortunate woman, whose name has been on every tongue. The following is furnished as her sworn statement, witnessed by her son, who urged her to “tell the truth” regarding the points which bore hardest upon her in the defense of the Governors furnished by the latter’s friends:

“State of New York, county of Westchester. Maria B. Halpin, being duly sworn, says: I reside at New Rochelle, in the county of Westchester, state aforesaid. I am the person whose name has been published in connection with that of Grover Cleveland as the mother of his son. I have been induced to remain silent while the disgrace and sufferings brought upon my by Grover Cleveland have been discussed and criticised by the public and the press, and I would most gladly remain silent even now but for the duty which I owe to my aged and afflicted father, my children, and my sister, to whom my troubles were unknown until made public by a publication a few months ago. My duty to these relatives and to those friends who knew me before my acquaintance with Grover Cleveland, whose kind assurances of love and sympathy and confidence have reached me, compels me to make a public statement and denial of many of the statements which have been made public concerning me and my character and actions while in Buffalo.

“I would gladly avoid further publicity of this terrible misfortune if I could do so without appearing to admit the foul and false statements concerning my character and habits, especially those made by Mr. Horatio C. King and published with the alleged approval of Grover Cleveland himself.”

In reference to the introduction to Mr. Cleveland, she says:

“I deny that there was anything in my actions or against my character at any time or any place up to the hour I formed the acquaintance of Grover Cleveland on account of which he or any other person can cast the slightest suspicion over me. Up to that hour my life was pure and spotless as that of any lady in the city of Buffalo — a fact which Grover Cleveland should be man enough and just enough to admit, and I defy him or any of his friends to state a single fact or give a single incident or action of mine to which any one could take exception. I always felt that I had the confidence and esteem of my employers, Messrs. Hinman & Best and Flint & Kent, and this I could not maintain if I had been the vile wretch his friends would have the world believe. He sought my acquaintance and obtained an introduction to me from a person in whom I had every confidence, and he paid me very marked attention. His character, so far as I then knew, was good, and his attentions, I believed, were pure and honorable.

“The circumstances under which my ruin was accomplished are too revolting on the part of Grover Cleveland to be made public. I did not see Grover Cleveland for five or six weeks after my ruin, and I was obliged to send for him, he being the proper person to whom I could tell my trouble. I will not at this time detail my subsequent sufferings, and the birth of our boy, September 14, 1874. But I will say that the statement published in the Buffalo Telegram, in the main, is true. There is not, and never was, a doubt as to the paternity of our child, and the attempt of Grover Cleveland, or his friends, to couple the name of Oscar Folsom, or any one else, with that boy, for that purpose is simply infamous and false. Attached hereto is a statement prepared and to me submitted by the friend of Grover Cleveland to sign. But I declined to do so, because the statemtns therein contained are not true.

“MARIA B. HALPIN.
“Signed and sworn before me this 28th day of October, 1884.

CHARLES G. BANKS.
“[Seal.] Notoary Public, Westchester county, N.Y.

“F.F. HALPIN,
“H.C. HENDERSON,
“F.S. RENOUD,
“Witnesses.

The statement alluded to, and which she did not sign, is as follows:

“I have read the statement published in the Buffalo Telegram, of the date of ____, concerning myself and Mr. Cleveland, a statement which is largely false and malicious. Shortly after the death of my husband, some twelve years ago, I removed to Buffalo with my children. Some time after that I met Mr. Cleveland, and made his acquaintance, which acquaintance extended over a period of some months. During that time I received from Mr. Cleveland uniform kindness and courtesy. I have now and always had a hight esteem for Mr. Cleveland. I have not seen him in sever or eight years.”

Daily Gazette, The (Fort Wayne, Indiana) Nov 1, 1884

Image from http://fragmentsfromfloyd.com

In November.

The ruddy sunset lies
Banked along the west,
In flocks with sweep and rise
The birds are going to rest.

The air clings and cools,
And the reeds look cold
Standing above the pools
Like rods of beaten gold.

The flaunting golden-rod
Has lost her wordly mood,
She’s given herself to God
And taken a nun’s hood.

The wild and wanton horde
That kept the summer revel
Have taken the serge and cord
And given the slip to the Devil.

The winter’s loose somewhere,
Gathering snow for a fight;
From the feel of the air
I think it will freeze tonight.

– DUNCAN CAMPBELL SCOTT.

The News (Frederick, Maryland) Oct 24, 1891

Image from www.illusionsgallery.com

AUTUMN.

No sound but the beechnuts falling
Through the green and the yellow leaves,
And the rainy west wind calling
The swallows from the eves,
No fading trees are shedding
Their golden splendor yet;
But a sunset gleam is spreading,
That seems like a regret.

And the crimson-breasted birdie
Sings his sweet funeral hymn
On the oak-tree grim and sturdy,
In the twilight gathering dim,
Death comes to pomp and glory;
They fade the sunny hours;
And races old in story
Pass like the summer flowers.

The Portsmouth Times (Portsmouth, Ohio) Oct 19, 1872

Image from www.encyclopediaofarkansas.net

Fall Time in Georgia.

Through summer, we’ve been toastin’,
But now we’re on the way
Where the sweet potato’s roastin’
An’ the cabin fiddles play.

The cane will soon be gindin’,
An’ the boys’ll have their fun;
The hunter’s horn is windin’
An’ the rabbit’s on the run!

The Atlanta Constitution (Atlanta, Georgia) Aug 12, 1895

Obviously, the fiddler in the picture is not from Georgia, but I thought it was a great picture anyway. While searching for it, I came across a picture of a fiddler from Georgia by the name of Robert Allen Sisson. You can read about him in The Old Time Fiddlers Hall of Fame. To the left of his biographical sketch is an audio link of him playing Rocky Road to Dublin.

Image from www.redbubble.com

THE DESERTED BARN.

AGAINST the gray November sky
Beside the weedy lane it stands,
To newer fields they all pass by
The farmers and their harvest hands.

There is no lack within the mow;
The racks and mangers fall to dust;
The roof is crumbling in, but thou,
My soul, inspect it and be just.

Once from the green and winding vale
The sheaves were born to deck its floor;
The blue-eyed milkmaid filled her pail,
Then gently closed the stable door.

Once on the frosty wintry air
The sound of flail afar was borne,
And from his natural pulpit there
The preacher cock called up the morn.

But all are gone; the harvest men
Work elsewhere now for higher pay;
The blue-eyed milkmaid married Ben,
The hand, and went to Ioway.

The flails are banished by machines,
Which thresh the grain with equine power,
The senile cock no longer weans
The folks from sleep at dawning hour.

They slumber late beyond the hill,
In that new house which spurns the old;
In gorgeous stalls the kine are still,
The horse is blanketed from the cold.

But I from ostentatious pride
And hollow pomp of riches turn,
To must that ancient barn beside;
Pause, pilgrim, and its lessons learn,

So live that thou shalt never  make
A millpond of the mountain farm,
Nor for a gaudy stable take
The timbers of the ruined barn!

The Portsmouth Times (Portsmouth, Ohio) Aug 10, 1872

Image from http://cartoons-comics.deepthi.com

“Mother Goose” on the Panic.

We have picked up the following capital applications of Mother Goose’s melodies to the present conditions of the money market, floating about in our exchanges:

Image from www.searchviews.com

Sing a song of specie
Gotham all away,
Seven and fifty Bank Birds
Knocked into pi;
When the Banks were open’d
The Cashier tried to sing,
Wasn’t that a pretty dish
To send to Gov’nor King!

Image from www.liveauctioneers.com

Hark! hark! the Banks do bark,
The brokers have come to town,
Some with “bags” and some with “rags,”
To hunt the specie down.

Image from www.posterpalace.com

There was a man in our town,
Who was so wondrous wise,
He jumped into the Barbary coast
And drew out his supplies.
And when he got his specie out,
With all his might and main,
He rushed into another Bank
And concluded that, all things considered,
he might as well deposit again.

Image from www.corbisimages.com

Ba! ba! Bank sheep, have you any gold?
Yes, marry, have I, three bags told;
One for depositors, one for me,
And one for an old chap that lives across the sea?

Image from www.taylorgreenelaw.com

One — Two! What shall we do?
Three — Four! Close up the door.
Five — Six! They are coming like bricks,
Seven — Eight! Ask them to wait.
Nine — Ten! Good friends, come again.
Eleven — Twelve! The deposits we’ll shelve.
Thirteen — Fourteen! Stop exporting.
Fifteen — Sixteen! Ain’t we fixed in?
Seventeen — Eighteen! Keep ‘em waiting!
Nineteen — Twenty! Vaults are Empty!

Fort Wayne Sentinel, The (Fort Wayne, Indiana) Nov 7, 1857

BLOCK QUOTES run a muck again!

Image from http://blog.makezine.com

HALLOWEEN WILL BE HERE SOON, GET READY

Young People Will Celebrate While the Goblins and Spirits Hower About, Just as of Old.

Get ready, kids. It’s coming. A week from Saturday the goblins, witches, elves and jack-o-lanterns will come into their own for one brief night. All Hallows’ eve — the world belongs to them.

In the old, old days Hallowe’en belonged to the spirits of the Northland, to the spirits and elves of Druid days. There are no witches or fairies now, but Hallowe’en will be celebrated just the same.

Farmers are getting ready for the occasion and are getting their cabbage and pumpkins under cover and before the latter part of next week will have them securely locked in the houses and barns. Corn is also used to a certain extent in celebrating, while tick-tacks** are just as big a favorite as ever.

From Dictionary Encarta:

**2. U.S. something that taps as prank: a device operated from a distance to make a tapping sound on a window or door as a practical joke.

Great changes have taken place in celebrating Hallowe’en in the past decade. It used to be that a boy or girl did not think they were having a good time unless they would burst in a number of doors during the night with cabbage stocks or hang some neighbor’s wagon on the roof of the barn, so it would be hard to remove, while some even went so far as to put cows in the school room and other things in just as ridiculous places. The taking of a buggy or wagon and running away with it was most enjoyed, that is by the celebrators, but it was a trick not enjoyed by the owner. The building of fences across the public highway also afforded the builder lots of fun. People out late at night or those compelled to get out early in the morning always bumped into one of these fences and there was all kinds of trouble. Gates and porch steps were to be found for the next two weeks in unlooked for places — but that was the way they celebrated a good many years ago.

It would not be very healthy to celebrate in this manner now. There are too many police officers. Then if you would happen to get caught or your name learned later on, you stand a good chance of being arrested for malicious mischief. There are too many laws today to permit such carryings on. Of late years the proper way to celebrate Hallowe’en and have a good time is to attend a taffy-pulling. Of course jack-o-lanterns are still used and are a big favorite, but not to the extent they were a number of years ago. In later years the young folks dress up in masque costumes and attend their taffy pullings. Many of the games played when grandmother was a girl, such as ducking for apples, etc., are still in vogue and affords no end of amusement.

It is not known to what extent Mayor Harry Lusk will permit celebrators to go this year; but one thing is sure and that is that he will not stand for destruction of property, so the boys and girls who desire to keep out of the clutches of the law and escape spending a night in the ill-smelling cooler at city hall should confine their celebrating to innocent fun and not try to see how much property they can damage.

New Castle News (New Castle, Pennsylvania) Oct 23, 1908

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The Good Old Candy Pull.

You kin talk about y’r op’rae y’r germans an’ ali sich,
Y’r afternoon receptions an’ them pleasures o’ the rich;
You kin feast upon y’r chol’lates an’ y’r creams an’ ices full.
But none o’ them is ekal to a good old candy pull.

For ther’ isn’t any perfume like the ‘lasses on the fire,
A bubblin’ an’ a dancin’ as it keeps a risin’ higher,
While the spoon goes stirrin’, stirrin’, till the  kittle’s even full;
No, I reely thin ther’s nothing’ like a good old candy pull.

It’s true we miss the music, an’ the ballroom’s crush an’ heat,
But ther isn’t any bitter that stays behind the sweet,
An’ I think the world’d be better, an’ its cup o’ joy more full,
If we only had more pleasures like the good old candy pull.

– BOSTON BULLETIN.

The News (Frederick, Maryland) Mar 13, 1891

Hemp Seeds (Image from www.divavillage.com)

A Potent Incantation.

On All-Hallows eve there is one form of incantation which is known to be extremely, nay, terribly potent when all others have failed. You go out by yourself, taking a handful of hempseed with you. You get to a secluded place and begin to scatter the seed as you walk along the road. You say, “Hempseed, I sow thee; hempseed, I sow thee, he who is to be my true love, appear now and show thee.” And if you look furtively over your shoulder you will behold the desired apparition following you. — William Black in Harper’s.

Davenport Morning Tribune (Davenport, Iowa) Nov 5, 1890

HALLOWE’EN CELEBRATIONS

Its Origin and Customs — How the Small Boy Came to Have a Part Therein.

Many Parties of Social Nature Held — Police Department Busily Entertained.

Hallowe’en or All Hallow’s Eve, the night of Oct. 31, that is the eve of All Saints’ Day, which is the first day of November, takes its origin from the conversion in the Seventh century of the Pantheon at Rome, into a Christian place of worship, and its dedication to the Virgin and all the martyrs.

It was first celebrated on the first of May, but the date was Subsequently changed to Nov. 1st, and under the designation of “Feast of All Saints,” set apart as a general commemoration in their honor, and as such retained by the Angelican and American Episcopal churches.

On this day it is a custom of Roman Catholic countries, and is still practiced in Louisiana, to visit the cemeteries for devotion or for laying floral tributes on the graves of relatives.

The “Hallowe’en” part of it, however, appears to have nothing churchly about it. It is more in keeping with the practices of pagan times or perhaps of medieval superstitions, which set apart the night for a universal walking abroad of spirits, both of the visible and invisible world. On this mystic evening it was believed that even the human spirit might detach itself from the body and wander abroad.

From the above it can be readily seen how members of the younger population have come to distort the customs of this celebration by performing mischievous pranks, dressing in most hideous costumes and working destruction in general to everything animate and inanimate, after the fashion of sprites, or worse than these, perhaps, demons. Here also we discover the origin of the pumpkin ghost or Jack ‘o lanter, the troops of wandering devils, etc.

Image from www.retroist.com

Practically so far as recognized at all, as it is still in Great Britain and some of our states, where church usages and traditions survive, it is devoted to sports and practical jokes. Nuts and apples are in requisition, they being not only cracked and eaten, but furnish sport in the way of “ducking” and “bobbing” which often results in damp disaster at the bottom of the wash tub.

The fate of many a lad and lass is also often decided in the signs of the seeds and the kernels, as the renowned Burns put it:

“The old guidwife’s well hoardit ______ nits,
Are round and round devided,
And many lads and lassies’ fates
Are there that night decided.”

A number of parties were held last evening in commemoration of the event. The police department was also obliged to use its entire force and acumen to watch the mischievous sprites who were on the lookout to work destruction to anything and everything which happened to fall in their pathway.

Social Hallowe’en.

Among those who entertained in a social way were Miss Lulu Wolfe, Wisconsin street; Miss Anna Slagsvold, Wisconsin street; Miss Laura Aswumb, Garfield avenue; Rev. and Mrs. Arns, Vine street; and among others something unique in the way of hobo Hallowe’en amusement at the home of Mrs. David Drummond. To say the least, all of the events named above furnished much enjoyment to those who were in attendance, having a part in the quaint games and customs in accord with practices of olden times.

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The Small Boy.

Hallowe’en with the small boy, was not so exciting up to midnight. Dr. Selbach’s buggy was carried with the Leader’s mail wagon. Windows were soaped, gates stolen, every upsetable, upset, a sidewalk in the Ninth ward torn up, with untold and various other depredations. This is all. No lives were lost. Hallowe’en is all over but the swearing.

Eau Claire Leader (Eau Claire, Wisconsin) Nov 2, 1906

Image from http://blog.makezine.com

THIS IS HALLOWE’EN.

Which Has Been Celebrated Through Centuries — The Prince of Mischief Abroad in the Land.

To-night is Hallowe’en and around it clusters more Old World superstitions than begirt the other 364 nights that go to make up the year.

The small boy knows it best as “cabbage night,” and to him it means a round of fun. He has been keeping track of it. He knows it comes with darkness and for days he has been keeping his optics on the cabbage heads in the back yards of his neighbors.

The small boy knows where all the cabbage in the neighborhood, for squares around, is kept, and as soon as night has stolen over the earth he will be out with his companions, carefully climbing over the back yard fences, and stealthfully approaching the mound where the cabbage is buried. It is no use to watch him, for if it is there he will have it if he has to stay up all night, and after he has it in his grasp he is off on his round of pranks.

The readers of THE SENTINEL know how he will put in the night. They were all young once and as they peruse this Hallowe’en article, memories of those old-time days, when they were out on the All Hallows Eve lark, will crowd in on them thick and fast, and when the “bump,” “bump” of the cabbage head comes against the door, they will say, “Oh, it’s boys. They are out for a little fun. Let them have it.”

Gates are carried off from their hinges, and the posts are ornamented with hideous, grinning faces, made of a grotesque pumpkin, hollowed out, and containing a lighted candle. Bonfires are built and potatoes, eggs and apple roasted on the hot coals. Door bells are mysteriously rung and the king of misrule and his retinue are abroad in the land.

But the Hallowe’en is not now what it once was. The boyish pranks of twenty, thirty and forty years ago (many of them) seem to be unknown to the boys of to-day and there isn’t one one hundredth part of the fun crowded into the night now as there was then. Many of the older readers of THE SENTINEL could tell the boys of to-day Hallowe’en stories that would “make their hair stand on end,” but it is best, perhaps, that those olden-time tricks (some of them mean and cruel in their nature) should be discontinued, and we will not tell more of them now for fear the boys will be tempted to repeat them to-night in Fort Wayne.

There used to be a time when the night was full of superstitions, and men, women and children believed that on All Hallows Eve disembodied spirits visited the earth again; that devils, witches and fairies were abroad; that supernatural influences existed everywhere, but these old-time superstitions passed away with the advent of railways, telegraph, and, most of all, with the enlightening influences of the newspapers, and now the night is mostly (among those who desire to celebrate it) given to amusements of a social nature, either at home or in some public hall. Even the boyish pranks grow to be less common, and bye and bye, perhaps, they will cease all together.

Hallowe’en, or more properly All Hallows Eve, is the night before All Saints’ day and comes on October 31st, being kept as a vigil by some churches for the religious ceremonies of the following day, November 1st, when honor is done in the sanctuaries to all the saints. This is its real signification now, and yet in many countries the old superstitions still prevail and we give a few of them.

In the north of England this is “Nutcrack-Night,” and everywhere nuts and apples are in demand for consumption or for divination. In Ireland the same customs exist as in the sister isle; the lads and lasses gather by the blazing fire of peat and bogwood; the hearth is cleanly swept and each pair of lovers put two nuts before the fire; if either jumps the party represented is sure to give the other the mitten.
Ducking for apples is another ceremony peculiar to Hallowe’en.

Apples are placed in a tub of water, and often coins, and the attempts to catch them in the mouth produce tremendous mirth. So. too, does the “snapapple cross”; apples and lighted candles are placed on the opposite ends of a wooden cross, suspended by a string, and the attempts to rescue an apple with the mouth is generally rewarded by catching the twirling candle.

Three plates, containing earth, water and a ring, are placed on the table, the fortune seeker is led blindfolded, and his selection dooms him to death, exile or marriage within the ensuing year. A somewhat similar form of divination exists in Scotland.

“Popping” is a custom as popular in America as in the old country, where it originated. One girl heats a shovel red hot. Two chestnuts are then named after two of the company, as Jennie and Jack. In a few minutes they begin to sputter, and when they pop with much noise and confusion it is judged by the method of popping how the love affair will terminate. If Jennie pops away it is surmised that it is meant as an invitation for Jack to follow and capture her, but if Jack pops he is not for her. If the two pop side by side or away together, it is the happiest of auguries. IF the pair of chestnuts burn up into a flame and consume together it foretells a happy married future.

Eating the apple – This first demands a walk through a long corridor, when, if the young lady does not see her lover, she must return backward, going to her room and eating the apple before a looking glass while she combs her hair. She will then see her future husband’s face over her shoulder.

Paring an apple in one long paring, throwing it over the shoulder and letting it fall is a favorite spell of the night. If it falls so as to resemble a letter, that will be the first letter of a coming lover’s name.

Image from http://z.about.com

The Hallowe’en Mirror – This is always a moonlight night performance, as the spell is assisted by the spectral light of the moon. They young woman looking into the glass must munch an apple at the same time. As the moonbeams fall across the glass she will see a face beside her own, which will be that of the man she is to marry. This test is very trying one, and many cases have been known where a delicate girl has fainted from fright, her imagination supplying the expected face.

The Three Leggies – These are three bowls of water placed on the hearth, a custom prevalent in Scotland and referred to by Burns. One is filled with clear water, one with turbid water and one is empty. Whoever dips must be blindfolded and use the left hand only. If it is a maiden and she dips into the clear water she will marry a young man and be prosperous. If she, however, puts her hand in the turbid bowl her husband will be a widower, and she will have more or less trouble, but if she dips into the empty dish, never a husband will she have at all.

A Scottish superstition was: – The girl would take her ball of knitting worsted and at midnight, standing on the edge of an old lime kiln, would throw it down in the devil’s name, and commencing to wind up the end would say, “I wind, who holds?” when a voice was supposed to answer, “I hold.” Many fatal accidents from shock followed these incantations, caused probably by some of the lads who knew that such a visit would be made.

But when all the sports were finished, then came the crowning terror to the rustic mind — the journey home and the possibility of meeting the dreaded “Phooks,” the hairy, misshapen spirit steed that on this particular night was permitted to roam around and decoy wearied pedestrians to mount him.

Some of these sports may be repeated to night among our young folks and much merriement will ensue. All in all, with the repetition of these pranks and the parties, dances and night “raids” of the small boy Hallowe’en will not go unobserved in Fort Wayne.

To morrow will be All Saints day. As early as the fourth century the Greeks kept on the first Sunday after Pentecost the feast of all Martyrs and Saints, and there is still a sermon of St. John Chrysostom delivered on that day. The feast was introduced in the west by Pope Boniface IV. The feast was at first kept on the 13th of May, but the day was changed to the 1st of November by Gregory IV. This feast has been instituted by the church to honor all the saints who reign in heaven.

Next Sunday will be All Souls day. It is a solemn commemoration of and prayer for all the souls in purgatory. This feast is dept on the 2d day of November. This feast owes its origin to Odilo Abbot, of Clugny, who instituted this solemnity for all the monasteries of his order in 998.

Both days will be religiously observed by the Catholics in this city.

The forty hour devotions began at the Cathedral to-day at 9 o’clock. Father Ambrose, of Cincinnati, a Franciscan, preached in the forenoon and will be heard again this evening. To-morrow the principal services will be at 5, 7:30, 10 a.m., and in the evening at 7:30, closing with a sermon, procession and benediction on Sunday evening.

Fort Wayne Sentinel, The (Fort Wayne, Indiana) Oct 31, 1890

Image from http://seasonofshadows.com

HALLOWE’EN [excerpt]

Three things seem to be wrapped up in Hallowe’en rites — silence, salt and apples! Salt and silence worked together, and for dire occasions. Hallowe’en, from time immemorial, seems to have been a special occasion for attempting to lift the veil and peer into the future, especially as regards one’s personal fortunes or the fate of one’s enemies.

For instance, many hundreds of years ago in northern Europe a man who put a spoonful of salt in his mouth, drank no water, and walked away in silence — you cannot imagine him talking much — to “a place where three crossroads met and sat thereon on a three-legged stool” was rewarded at midnight by hearing a supernatural voice announce the name of the neighbor, generally, his enemy, who would die within the year!

In many parts of Scotland to this day, the house-wife will empty a thimble of salt on every breakfast plate before going to bed on All Hallows Eve; and if in the morning the salt has fallen out of shape on any plate, it is believed that individual  might just as well get ready, as the big bell has tolled for him.

In other parts of northern Europe, the girl who eats a salt cake and goes to bed in silence, and without drinking water, will see her future husband in her dreams.

Olean Evening Times (Olean, New York) Oct 30, 1929