The United Confederate Veteran reunions in Memphis

   Following the war, veterans organizations sprang up all over the nation. Memphis seemed slow to join the various groups. Prominent in the 1870s was the Mexican War Veterans Association, with Gideon Pillow as its commander. It appears that the original fraternal group in Memphis was known as the “Confederate Veterans Historical Association.” This later becomes the Confederate Veteran Historical Association Camp No. 28 after the United Confederate Veteran was formed in July 1889. Its counterpart in Memphis was the William J. Smith Post 1896, Grand Army of the Republic.[1]  

   Both organizations held national reunions for their membership in different locations across the United States. Quite possibly the closest that a GAR reunion was held to Memphis was the National Encampment in St. Louis in September 1887. Three times, the United Confederate Veterans held national reunions in Memphis: 1901, 1909, and 1924.

Program from the 1901 reunion. 
(TN Virtual Archives) 

   The 11^th Annual Reunion of the United Confederate Veterans was held May 28-30, 1901, drawing 20,000 participants. The Rev. J. William Jones opened the day with a prayer, followed by an address from the governor, the mayor and a US Senator, then John B. Gordon, General-in-chief of the United Confederate Veterans. The commands of Nathan Bedford Forrest and John Hunt Morgan were recognized. Joseph Wheeler spoke, followed by Fitzhugh Lee and General Bates.  That was all the first day. Alexander P. Stewart spoke the following day, and business was conducted, such as a fundraiser approved for a monument to Southern women, a decision on the location of the next reunion, a meeting of Confederate surgeons, a grand ball, and a flower parade. There were of course extras through the three days. Capt. George H. Mitchell, superintendent of the Memphis National Cemetery, encouraged the Confederate veterans to come and pay their respects. There was even a meeting of Confederate and Union veterans in the lobby of the Peabody hotel.[2]  

   The 19^th Annual Reunion of the United Confederate Veterans was held June 8-10, 1909. The reunion was held jointly with the Confederate Southern Memorial Association. The crowds, estimated at 90,000 visitors (railroad officials believed the number of visitors at 175,000), found the route of the parade of veterans “a mass of brilliant bunting and fluttering flags . . . It was noticeable that the star-spangled banner was given almost equal place in many instances with the banner that was furled but never conquered.” Many local citizens sported badges that read “I live here; ask me.” The Bijou Theater was used as the convention hall where the meetings of delegates took place. The governor was on hand to welcome the veterans and their guest, followed by the singing of “Dixie,” and a “Rebel yell.” Clement A. Evans spoke, as did Lewis Guion, pleading for a park at Vicksburg, with a Confederate monument. There was a memorial service in honor of Jefferson Davis, the introduction of Nathan Bedford Forrest’s great-grandson, a reunion of the Immortal 600, and a grand ball. As at many of the reunions, there was a casualty or two. Jack Duhig, a member of the Sterling Price Camp, Dallas, Texas, died in a local hospital, probably from a heat stroke.[3]

Veterans at the 1924 reunion.
(flickr-ufomtiger52)

   The 34th Annual reunion of the United Confederate Veterans was held June 3-5, 1924. Reunion headquarters was at the Claridge Hotel, and thousands were reported in attendance. The event started with a memorial service at Elmwood Cemetery, with the Confederate graves being marked with flags and addresses on several topics, including Jefferson Davis. It was Davis’s birthdate. On June 4, the reunion officially began. The mayor of Memphis spoke (but the governor only sent his regards), then Commander-in- Chief W.B. Haldeman. “The grim reaper is rapidly depleting the ranks of the Confederate veterans,” Haldeman told the crowd, estimated at 5,000. Haldeman was re-elected as commander, and annual dues were increased. Most of the veterans were now driven in cars along the parade route. The only Confederate general present seems to have been Felix Robertson. There were also twenty “old ex-slaves who had served . . . during the war.” The Memphis D.A.R. sponsored an opening luncheon, the Kiwanis Club sponsored the floral parade, the R.O.T.C. and the Boy Scouts provided programing and helped the old veterans around the city, while there were several balls, one sponsored by the Ladies’ Confederate Memorial Association and another by the Memphis United Daughters of the Confederacy. Several veterans were reported in the hospital, “suffering from natural afflictions and the infirmities of age.” One newspaper editor was happy to have the veterans in Memphis, but also found the reunion “tinged. . . with sadness. It is more and more evident that the day is not far distant when there will be the grand final reunion in a city not made with hands, the reunion in which every man who fought on either side in the sixties will have a part.”[4]  

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[1] Public Ledger, April 25, 1890; The Memphis Commercial, January 21, 1894.

[2] Confederate Veteran, 9:248-250; The Commercial Appeal, May 5, 1901, May 28, 1901.

[3] Confederate Veteran, 17:197, 314-16; The Commercial Appeal, June 11, 1909.

[4] Confederate Veteran, 32: 251-54; The Commercial Appeal, June 4, 1924, June 7, 1923.

Burying Memphis’s Confederates

Confederate Monument,
Elmwood Cemetery, Memphis

   Any great influx of men brought about numerous cases of disease, some of which led to death. Memphis was no different. Thousands of soldiers poured into the city, and as already discussed here, hospitals were opened to deal with not only with those wounded on the battlefield, but those who were sick. Despite medical care, numerous men died. To provide care for those who passed, the Southern Mothers Society, which operated one of the hospitals, acquired the Fowler section of Elmwood Cemetery. Elmwood Cemetery was established in 1852. This section of the cemetery was donated by Elmwood Cemetery “for the purpose of burying, free of charge, all soldiers who die honorably in defense of our liberties.” By September 1861, the ground had been enlarged and a spot for a monument already laid out.[1] 

   The first soldier to be buried in this section appears to have been Thomas Gallagher, who “died of wounds received accidently” on May 12, 1861. Gallagher was a member of Company H, 154^th Senior Tennessee Infantry.[2] Early on, these funerals were full of military honors. J.W. Kirwan, a private in the 25^th Mississippi Infantry, died of consumption in January 1862. A hearse and a company of new recruits escorted Kirwan’s body from his former house in Memphis to the cemetery. “The body was followed by a long procession of mourning friends who took a melancholy satisfaction in paying the last tribute of respect to an esteemed gentleman and devoted soldier.”[3] Burials undoubtedly continued through the course of the war, although information regarding burial of Confederates in the Confederate section of Elmwood Cemetery by the Federals seems to be lacking.

   In April 1866, there was a call for the upkeep by the ladies of Memphis of the Confederate section of Elmwood Cemetery. Sam W. Gulick stated that he would “Most willingly offer my services gratis, to letter all the names on the above boards to be placed in Elmwood Cemetery.” The ladies of the Southern Soldiers’ Home agreed to take on the responsibility, and there was a call for a “commemoration service” on April 26.[4] The memorial service came off with great fanfare, so much so that in April 1867, the local U.S. Army post commander prohibited “any processions, speeches or other public demonstrations, speeches or other public demonstrations in honor of the rebellion or men who fell in its service…” Local citizens were permitted “the simple act of mourning for deceased relatives in the customary manner.”[5]

   Slowly, the Confederate dead from other fields were brought to Elmwood Cemetery. Captain John W. Harris, killed in the North Georgia campaign of 1864, was reinterred in May 1866; W.A. Willis was likewise disinterred from a North Georgia battlefield and reinterred in Elmwood Cemetery in June 1866; Willie Pope, killed at the battle of Tishomingo Creek, was reinterred in July 1866; Brig. Gen Preston Smith, killed at Chickamauga in September 1863, and Col. Jeffrey E. Forrest, killed at the battle of Okolona in February 1864, were reinterred in May 1868.[6]

   The last Confederate soldier buried in the Confederate Soldiers Rest section was John F. Gunter, who died April 1, 1940. There are 945 numbered headstones in the Confederate section, and many other soldiers are buried through the cemetery. The Confederate Monument in the Confederate section was dedicated on June 5, 1878, and a marker about the cemetery was erected in 2006. 

   Among the more notable Confederate burials are Generals James Patton Anderson, Colton Greene, Preston Smith, Alfred J. Vaughan, Jr., Gideon Pillow, and William Henry Carroll. War-time governor Isham G. Harris is also buried at Elmwood, as is Confederate Congressman William G. Swan. Confederate senator Landon Carter Haynes was originally buried here, but was later moved to Jackson, Tennessee. War-time Federal soldiers buried at Elmwood were later moved (in 1868) to the Memphis National Cemetery, while two Federal generals, William J. Smith and Milton T. Williamson, are still buried at Elmwood. Elmwood was also the original burial location for Nathan Bedford Forrest and his wife Mary. As an aside, famed author Shelby Foote is also buried in Memphis.

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[1] Memphis Daily Appeal, September 25, 1861.

[2] Thomas Gallagher, CMSR, ROG109, NA.

[3] Memphis Daily Appeal, January 31, 1862.

[4] The Memphis Daily Appeal, April 18, 1866; April 24, 1866.

[5] Memphis Daily Post, April 25, 1867.

[6] Public Ledger, May 10, 1866, July 19, 1866, May 1, 1866; Memphis Daily Post, June 16, 1866.

Memphis’s Irving Block Prison

   “Notorious for its cruel and unsanitary living conditions” is how the Irving Block Prison in Memphis has been described. The building was constructed in 1860 as a hotel. “This section of town was notably tough and iron slates were used to cover the windows,” a 1939 guide to Tennessee recorded. Located on the west side of Court Square, the building was three stories tall. When the war came, the building was used as one of the Confederate hospitals, and it was run by the Southern Mothers. When the Confederates abandoned Memphis in June 1862, Federal officials repurposed the building as a prison for Confederate and Federal soldiers, along with civilians and spies.

   Absalom Grimes was one of the men imprisoned at Irving Block. Grimes was a river boat pilot who was selected by Sterling B. Price to carry or smuggle the mail between the South and the North. Grimes was captured numerous times, including once in Memphis.[1] After being interrogated by the provost marshal, Grimes was taken to the Irving Block Prison. “That prison was on the west side of Jackson Square in Memphis . . . three stories high. A pair of stairs led from the lower storeroom into the basement, where there was an excavated doorway leading into the yard. This doorway had boards nailed over it, and one wide board was off about three feet above the ground,” Grimes wrote after the war. “When I was placed in this cellar a ball with a chain about three feet long was riveted to my right ankle and one end of the chain was stapled to the floor. There were eighteen other prisoners chained to the floor in like manner, placed in a row from the front to the rear of the long cellar. I was chained next to a big stove . . .” Grimes wrote of there being a Federal soldier in the cellar, “imprisoned for stealing government mules out of the corral and selling them.” Grimes was held in the cellar for more than two weeks, “and my daily fare consisted of two stale crackers and a piece of rotten bacon and some water, or coffee made of beans and dried Cherokee rose leaves.” Adjoining the room where Grimes was held was a room for female prisoners. Grimes was eventually transferred to Alton, Illinois.[2]  

 Irving Block Prison in 1864. (Historic-Memphis)

   Some of those female prisoners could have been prostitutes arrested in a raid in mid-1863. The “house of ill repute” was at 115 Beale Street, and the proprietress was Kate Stoner. Six or seven girls were arrested and locked up in the Irving Block Prison until they could be tried. All were found guilty and sent north of Cairo, Illinois, with a promise of imprisonment if they returned to Memphis.[3] Another woman arrested was named Pullen. An officer on picket suspected her of being a smuggler and sent her back to the city where she (and probably her son) were locked up in Irving.[4]

   Colonel R. F. Looney and Capt. A.D. Bright were sent by General Chalmers into west Tennessee to arrest and bring back into Confederate lines Confederate deserters and stragglers. They were captured near Arlington and sent to Memphis and the Irving Block Prison. “They were placed in a back room and strongly guarded, but in a short time the officer ordered that they be moved to the third story, a dirty place, where thieves, thugs, and cut-throats were kept, and where vermin abounded . . . There was not a bed of any description in the long room, neither was there a chair or bench to sit on. They walked the floor all night.” These men were later paroled.[5]  

   In another instance, Lt. Jason Hoey, 17^th Arkansas, wrote to the Secretary of War that Lt. Col. Woods had bribed a Federal officer, Lt. Denis Lewis, to allow him to escape. After effecting his escape, Lewis had Woods rearrested. Woods complained that Lewis, “did not act the gentleman with him; he had given Lieutenant Lewis his money and then he (Lewis) betrayed him.” Lewis went to the prison, was shown into the cell where Woods was, and finding Wood asleep, Lewis drew his pistol and shot Woods in the head, killing him. According to Hoey, Lewis was tried by a court-martial, but “went to parts unknown.” He supposedly was tried and convicted of the crime, but escaped.[6] The Memphis Bulletin, in November 1863, related had it was so cold, and fuel in so short of supply, that some of the prisoners tore up fifty bunks to burn and keep warm.[7]

   There were some successful escapes. Captain M.A. Miller was caught smuggling two boxes of cavalry swords across the Mississippi River. He was tried by courts-martial, found guilty, and condemned to death. At this early date, prisoners from the city were allowed to visit their homes with a guard, and under the pretext of having a sick child, Miller was able to escape. Much of the plan previous to his escape was passed along when his family brought him food, “as the prison fare was unfit to eat.”[8] There were reports of sixty or more who escaped in February 1864, and eleven in May 1864.[9]

   U.S. Grant appointed Maj. Gen. Stephen A. Hurlbut as commander in Memphis. While the Irving Block Prison had various commanders, Hurlbut would appoint Capt. George A. Williams in 1863.

Maj. Gen. Stephen A. Hurlbut (LOC)

   In April 1864, Lt. Col. John F. Marsh, 24^th Veterans Reserve Corps, was sent to inspect the prison. March stated that Irving Block Prison was “the filthiest place the inspector ever saw occupied by human beings . . . The whole management and government of the prisoners could not be worse. Discipline and order are unknown. Food sufficient, but badly served. In a dark, wet cellar, I found twenty-eight prisoners chained to a wet floor, where they had been constantly confined, many of them for months, one since November 16, 1863, and are not for a moment released, even to relive the calls of nature.” The prison hospital had a “shiftless appearance ad the guard dirty and inefficient.” There was no “book of memorandum showing the disposition of the prison fund.”[10] Charges were drawn up and Williams arrested. He argued that he had actually done much to improve the prison. It did come out that Hurlburt, and maybe Williams, were running a multi-faceted extortion ring in Memphis. For example, they demanded ransoms from local wealthy families for the release of prisoners. Hurlbert also engaged in profiteering, getting cuts from the cotton that moved through the city. Hurlburt also targeted the Jewish population of Memphis, closing their businesses, but leaving non-Jewish businesses open. Hurlbut was brought up on charges toward the end of the war, but was allowed to resign. [11]

   History says that Lincoln ordered the prison closed in 1865.[12] However, that does not seem to be true. In March 1865, Col. John P.C. Shanks, commanding a cavalry brigade in west Tennessee, makes mention of capturing two “Guerrillas” and sending them to Irving Block Prison.[13] John G. Ryan, on parole, was passing through Memphis in July 1865 when he was arrested and hauled by the provost to Irving Block Prison. Ryan described the third floor room he was taken to as having “shackles, manacles, handcuffs and balls and chains.” A ball and chain was affixed to his left ankle. He was removed to another room and chained to the floor. Several days later, Ryan was sent to Washington, D.C. He was believed to be John H. Surratt, a spy accused of plotting with John Wilkes Booth to kidnap and assassinate Abraham Lincoln. Ryan was not released until October, and later sued the Federal government for false arrest.[14]

   The building was demolished in 1937.  

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[1] Ralls County Record, March 31, 1911.

[2] Grimes, Absalon Grimes, Confederate Mail Runner, 150-51, 153.

[3] Lowery, Confederate Heroines, 90-5.

[4] Jackson, The Colonel’s Diary, 98.

[5] Dinkins,  1861 to 1865, by an Old Johnnie, 217-18.

[6] OR, Series II, 5:945; Confederate Veteran, Vol. 27, No. 1, 19.

[7] Memphis Bulletin, December 1, 1863.

[8] Confederate Veteran, 157, Vol. 13, No. 4, 157.

[9] The Illinois State Journal, February 22, 1864; Daily Missouri Republican, May 14, 1864.

[10] OR, Ser. 2, 7:402-3.

[11] Lash, A Politician Turned General, 137; Korn and Nevis, American Jewry and the Civil War, 154.

[12] Daily News, January 10, 2013: “Irving Block Prison” https://historic-memphis.com/memphis-historic/irving-block/irving-block.html

[13] OR, Series I, Vol. 49, 1:79.

[14] Memphis Avalanche, March 14, 1888; The Boston Globe, July 10, 1888.

Lottie and Ginnie Moon, Confederate spies

   There are many celebrated Southern spies. Rose Greenhow, Belle Boyd, and Henry Harrison come to mind. Sisters Lottie and Ginnie Moon are not usually included on that list as being famous or celebrated. But they were spies, none-the-less.[1]

Virginia "Ginnie" Moon

   Richard Hall considered them “An extraordinary pair of sisters who did not at all fit the stereotype of the Southern belle.”[2] Robert S. Moon was doctor who passed in 1858. He was married to Cynthia Ann Sullivan, and they had several children, including daughters Charlotte C. “Lottie” Moon Clark (1829-1895) and Virginia B. “Ginnie” Moon (1844-1925). Lottie was born in Danville, Virginia, while Ginnie’s birthplace is often listed as either Memphis, Tennessee, or in Ohio. The family had an extensive library, and the daughters grew up reading volumes like Thomas Paine’s Age of Reason and Charles Darwin’s works. Cynthia, Virginia, and another sister Mary were living in Oxford, Butler County, Ohio, in the 1860 census. It is not clear where Lottie Moon was living according to the 1860 census. One account states that Ginnie was attending a girl’s school in Ohio at the start of the war, probably the Western Female Seminary. This account states that Ginnie, previously an abolitionist, but wishing to support the Confederacy once the war began, begged school officials to “allow her to leave school and join her mother in Memphis.” Of course, her mother is listed in the 1860 census as living in Oxford, Ohio. Maybe she had left and moved to Memphis in the few weeks between when the census taker came by and the start of the war. Another account states that  Ginnie “showed a little too much fervor and was expelled [from the school] when she shot the US flag that was flying over the campus full of holes.”[3]  

   As the story continues, Ginnie was working as a nurse, and after discovering the hospital was running low on supplies, made her way North under the pretext of visiting her boyfriend in Ohio, or, for her mother to sell property. It is unclear how many trips she made before being discovered. When she was searched, Federal soldiers discovered “many vials of medicine in her skirts, as well as a number of dispatches. She escaped arrest only because Union general Ambrose Burnside was an old friend of hers—when she was a little girl, she used to call him ‘Buttons’ because of his military uniform, and he would give her candy.”[4] Another account of the event states that both Ginnie and her mother were apprehended in Cincinnati after boarding a steamship for the journey south. As she related in an autobiographical sketch late in life, she had “on an underskirt with a row of quinine bottles in the bottom and -a row of morphine bottles above. I had the dispatch wrapped in oil silk in my bosom.” The Federal officer stated he had an order for her arrest and demanded for her to be searched, to which Moon would not consent, going so far as to pull a pistol on the officer and daring him to try. She did consent to go to the provost marshal’s office, and, while the officer was gone procuring a carriage, Moon took off the petticoat and hid it under the mattress, with her mother lying down on the bed. The message hid in her bosom she soaked in water and then swallowed. Back at the provost marshal’s office, the soldiers searched her baggage, finding contraband, such as a bolt of blue checked linen that she passed off for  material for future children’s aprons and ball of blue mass that her mother supposedly might consume in a month. The pair were kept confined and could pick the place of confinement. Moon asked for the Newport Barracks, and the Confederate prison in Columbus, but was denied, settling on the Burnett House, where Burnside was staying. She actually gained an audience with Burnside, and Burnside stated that "You have infringed upon a military order of mine. so I'll take you out of the hands of the Custom House and try you by courts martial, myself and my staff." Of the letters she was carrying, none of them contained military information, and Moon and her mother were allowed to proceed to Memphis. While in Memphis she had to report to General Hurlbut every day at 10:00 am. After three months, she was ordered to leave Federal lines and not to return.”[5] There is a thought that before being expelled from Memphis, she secreted messages to Nathan Bedford Forrest. She went to Danville for a while, then planned to go to France with other family members. She was arrested by Federal general Benjamin Butler and confined at Fortress Monroe for a time before being released, sent to City Point, and then back into Confederate lines.[6]

   Richard Hall writes that both sisters lived in Ohio and that Lottie was “romantically involved with future Union general Ambrose Burnside.” Lottie did not marry old “Buttons,” supposedly walking out on him at the altar, but did marry Judge James Clark of Ohio.   According to one source, James Clark was a Copperhead and involved in the Knights of the Golden Circle. Their home in Ohio was a spot where “Confederate couriers” could safely stop. Needing to get a message to Edmund Kirby Smith in Kentucky, Lottie donned the “disguise of an old woman” and “succeeded in passing back and forth through the lines and accomplishing the mission.” Thereafter she conducted several other spying missions, one in which she met agents in Toronto, then delivering papers to Richmond.[7] 

Marker in Memphis

   Ginnie lived in Memphis following the war, then in the early days of Hollywood, went there and was in several films, including Douglas Fairbank’s Robin Hood (1922) and The Spanish Dancer (1923). She next moved to Greenwich Village, where she died in 1925. She is buried in Elmwood Cemetery, Memphis. Lottie moved to New York with James after the war. James practiced law and wrote articles for the New York Ledger. Lottie eventually started writing for the New York World and was a correspondent in Paris covering the Franco-Prussian War. Returning to the states, she published How She Came into Her Kingdom, under the nom de plume of Charles M. Clay. She passed away in 1895 in Massachusetts, although her place of burial seems unknown.[8]

   Many of these stories seem larger than life and, in the case of spies, one always has to exercise a little caution. There is a note in the Federal Provost Marshall papers, dated April 7, 1863, stating that Virginia B. Moon, of Butler County, Ohio, had permission to go home to Butler County, but had to report to Hurlbut on April 10 in Memphis. Likewise there is a letter regarding Cynthia A. Moon regarding the same.[9] The Daily Conservative shared an article from Petersburg in May 1864 that “Miss Virginia Moon” was on the flag of truce steamer New York, arriving in City Point.[10] The post-war articles concerning the pair, they are numerous.

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[1] Many books do not mention the Moon sisters, including Wagner, Spies in the Civil War (2009); Towne, Surveillance and Spies in the Civil War (2015); Ford, Daring Women of the Civil War (2004); Bakeless, Confederate Spy Stories (1972); Valezquez, The Woman in Battle (2010).

[2] Hall, Women on the Civil War Battlefront, 90.

[3] https://tennesseeencyclopedia.net/entries/virginia-bethel-moon/; Cordell, Courageous Women of the Civil War, xx.

[4] Cordell, Courageous Women of the Civil War, 54.

[5] Moon, “The Moon and Barclay Families,” 32.

[6] Hall, Women on the Civil War Battlefront, 91; Donald, Stealing Secrets, 106.

[7] Hall, Women on the Civil War Battlefront, 91; Donald, Stealing Secrets, 96, 100.

[8] Donald, Stealing Secrets, 107-109.

[9] Virginia B. Moon, Union Provost Marshals File of Paper Relating to Individual Civilians, 1861-1865, RG 109, M345, roll 0194.

[10] The Daily Conservative, May 4, 1864.

Watauga blog follow-up

 Usually, when anonymous comments come through on the form, I don’t even read them. They just get deleted (the old file 13). I figure if you can’t put your name on something and claim it as your own, then I don’t have the time to reply. This one, though, caught my attention, more so for its adherence to bad history than for its unattributed authorship. The anonymous poster was referring to a blog I published in December 3, 2014, entitled “A Racially integrated Confederate Military.” You can read the original post here.

Here are the anonymous poster’s comments in whole. We’ll look at some fallacies in the argument below. 

Hi. I’m an Oxentine from Watauga County. First and foremost, I wonder why you’d use Watauga County as your “Test County” for rhe Confederate South of which Watauga County was far from either. Watauga had no allegiance to the Confederacy, period. In fact, we were quite opposed to the Confederacy. We were certainly the opposite of representative of the Confederate South. My god, surely a documented Underground Railroad upon which I was cultivated is not your test county. We had no large plantation, no need for slaves and Watauga County didn't utilize slaves in any sort of imaginable way as slaves were used in the true antebellum south. I would think to use Atlanta as your test county if I were you. And then you might ask the descendants of those minorities in the true south if they wanted to be confederate soldiers or if they were forced. It’s quite concerning that history is written in reference to a people a people by someone other than descendants of the people because it’s not history at all. I know myself. I know our mentality. It is very unlikely that anyone in Watauga County had any kind of true grit loyalty to the Confederacy. Historically, we are the last group of people to get involved in conflict of any kind but the most malicious when we did. We were farmers. We wanted to be left alone. We came here to be left alone. We had no allegiance to society because we hate society. If you don’t know that, because you’re not from Watauga, it’s hard to factor that in. Prior to the civil war, we were already racially diverse, moreso than anywhere in the south, and you comment that we were the least diverse. 1. That’s an assumption on your part based on a single letter placed in a square box. 2. And if we were racially heterogenous, for the most part, you can’t assume that was a precursor to our offering minority confederate soldiers. 3. As an Oxentine descendant, I can tell you first hand that we are descended from the Croatan, Cheraw, and other Eastern Bands of Native American with a more recent linage of African and European. 4. Anyone, and I mean anyone, who was a free person of color was listed as Mulatto, and that includes Native Americans, Swahili or what have you. 5. In the case of the mulattos in Watauga County, or any other true melungeon group, there is no record of Portuguese descent prior to the mid 20th century and actually no Portuguese at all. More bad history. My culture was 100% founded upon European, Native American and African tradition. And that’s it. 6. What if I were to tell you that 99% of people residing in Watauga County at the time were ALL of mixed racial heritage? How would you write your book then? Because that’s how you should write your book. I promise you that.

So, here are my rebuttals:

·         Watauga had no allegiance to the Confederacy, period. In fact, we were quite opposed to the Confederacy. We were certainly the opposite of representative of the Confederate South.

Actually, that is not even close to being true. While Watauga County, like many North Carolina counties, voted against calling a convention to consider secession in February 1861, fewer than six weeks later, they had had a change of heart. What changed their minds? There are several occurrences over that six weeks that are factors: the failure of the Peace Conference, Abraham Lincoln’s babbling first inaugural address, Lincoln going back on his word and sending reinforcements to Fort Sumter, and the call for 75,000 troops to invade Southern states. Watauga County’s response to these events was swift. Early in May, a group of fifty men met and responded, forming a company and pledging “Our Lives, our Properties, and our Sacred Honors to defend the Rights[,] Institutions and Honor of our County, State, and our Common Country, the Confederate States of America.” William Y. Farthing was elected captain.” At the same time, former representative George N. Folk was raising a company for Confederate service. This would become Company D, 1^st North Carolina Cavalry. Both of these companies were raised before North Carolina even left the Union.

 When the vote to leave the Union was held in Raleigh on May 20 to leave the Union and join the Confederacy, James W. Councill, the man who was elected by the county to represent them, voted in concurrence with the others. By the end of 1861, two other volunteer companies of Confederate troops had been formed in Watauga County. With a scattering of other men in regiments connected with other counties, a little over 400 men from Watauga County, about ten percent of the whole population, had volunteered. In total, 793 men served in the Confederate army from Watauga County. Of those, 61 deserted and joined 50 other Watauga County men in the Union army. Many of those “Unionists” actually waited until the closing weeks of the war, once victory had been assured, to enlist. (Military Records, Watauga County, North Carolina State Archives.)

·         To the question of Watauga County being a representation of the South, actually, it is.

University of Georgia Professor John C. Inscoe explores this topic in his book The Heart of Confederate Appalachia: Western North Carolina in the Civil War. He argues that the social and political society in the mountain South was the same as other places in the South, just on a smaller scale. Certainly, there were fewer slaves in Watauga County. But those slave owners were the driving social force in the community. Thomas Farthing, who represented the area in the General Assembly in 1860, was a slave owner. In fact, all of the major movers and shakers in the county – elected officials, store owners, etc., had some enslaved people working in their businesses or on their farms. This includes the Council, Mast, Hilliard, Farthing, Horton, Dobbin, Estes, Hardin, Baird, Green, and Gragg families. Even Unionists, like the Banners, owned slaves. As small as Watauga County was in 1860 – with a population of 4,957 (although several hundred would be carved out of the lower end of the county when Mitchell was finally formed in February 1861) – it still adhered to the same pyramid scale of population as other counties in the South. (Watauga County, 1860 US Federal Census-Slave Schedules.)

·         Documented Underground Railroad?

This is a question I get every couple of years from a reporter or student. So far, there is no documented true Underground Railroad in Watauga County, at least not in the traditional sense of an Underground Railroad for escaped slaves trying to flee through the area and make their way to Canada (because “black codes” prevented them from settling in most Northern states). We did have the other kind of underground railroad, for escaped Federal prisoners and dissidents, during the war years. These men made their way through the area attempting to get to Federal lines in Kentucky, and as the front of the later changed, to Tennessee. Typically, these federal prisoners and dissidents did not encourage the enslaved people whom they encountered to come with them. The militia, and later home guard, were only kind of looking for these men. A missing slave would result in a more serious, focused search.

·         “We were farmers. We wanted to be left alone. We came here to be left alone. We had no allegiance to society because we hate society.”

This idea is largely a post-war creation. The people in the mountains, prior to the war, were a very literate, welcoming society, and somewhat transient. There are numerous stories of families heading west for a while, maybe to Texas or the gold fields in California. Traveling preachers, like Elisha Mitchell, never made mention of a society that wanted to be left alone. The “left alone “part was partially a product of the war, as bands of bushwhackers and thieves roamed the countryside. The raids in the Bethel community and the death of Thomas Farthing come to mind as events that would certainly inspire xenophobia and seclusion. But there were many other factors. Reconstruction did not help foster trust of outsiders. Then came the timber barons who exploited the people and lands.  Thankfully, because of the geology of the land, Watauga County was spared the mineral rights exploitation of the coal fields of neighboring Appalachian states.

·         “Historically, we are the last group of people to get involved in conflict of any kind…”  

Actually, men (and women) have been involved in every military conflict on records, from the War of 1812 to the Cherokee Removal, the Mexican-American War, Spanish-American War, and all of the 20^th century conflicts. Have there been conscientious objectors? Of course, there were a few. But Watauga Countians as a whole have always been more than willing to get involved. 

Per the other comments (points) regarding race, the anonymous poster apparently missed the context of the entire post, and other posts I have written in the past, in that, the Confederate army was not all that white. Unfortunately, since NDA testing is still in its infancy, the little boxes checked regarding race (ok, there were no actual boxes to check in the 1860 census; the information that the person told the census enumerators), along with a few scattered letters, are pretty much all we have to go on. And as far as the Cousins/Cossens being of Portuguese decent, all I can say is what Mark Holsclaw wrote to Governor Ellis in his June 1861 letter, trying to obtain the freedom of the two Cousins brothers. Obviously, he got this information from someone. My bet would be someone in the Cousins family. (They did live in Boone, next door to W.W. Fletcher.)

As I have stated before, I would love to see this type of in-depth research on other counties. I’ve worked on Watauga County and a few of the surrounding counties for close to 27 years. Hence, my ability to say with some certitude certain things. If my anonymous poster would like to dig deeply, I encourage him/her to check out my book on Watauga County and War, track down all my sources, and tell me how I can improve. In the end, I am only as good as what the sources tell me.