Little Dixie covers the area along the Missouri River from St. Louis to Kansas City and is where many pioneers settled after coming to Missouri from southern states. Consequently, many settlers in this area were southern sympathizers during the war.
In 2013, women have the right to vote. We dress in whatever clothing we wish – bra or no bra, revealing clothes, thongs, even those ugly little Daisy Dukes shorts if we prefer. Back in the 19th century, women were forced into wearing the most uncomfortable clothes – corsets, chemises, petticoats, etc., – all under heavy gowns or dresses. Women couldn't even show their ankles, yet evening gowns frequently were so low cut that it's no wonder that more women didn't pop out of them. Cleavage, it seems, was acceptable, but goodness – never show an ankle or go without a corset.
It's not scandalous in 2013 for a woman to sleep with a man before marriage, in fact, many couples live together before marriage. We women are outspoken in today's world, we hold jobs as CEOs, reporters, business owners, doctors, attorneys, etc. Divorce is common and being a single does not slap a scarlet "S" on your forehead anymore. In the 1860s, women had little choices in their lives and were subject to the whims of the narrow laws of the day and the men they called father, brother or husband.
Still, I am finding more and more stories of women who were strong-willed, and knew how to go about getting things done and getting men to do what was necessary. They did find ways to speak their minds.
Something that occurred during the war here in Missouri was the imprisonment of wives, sisters, mothers and female friends of Confederate and/or guerrilla soldiers as a means to draw out the enemy. It happened everywhere in Missouri and the way many women reacted and took action just goes to show that despite being rather repressed in that day, women still had the same, strong, persevering minds they have today.
Young 20-year-old Lurena "Lou" McCoy, of Missouri City, Missouri, was one such woman.
Lou was eventually arrested for "allegedly" aiding the escape of a rebel prisoner from jail in Liberty and offering food and shelter to southern sympathizers – specifically – her husband, a Confederate officer.
Much of what follows in this article and those following, are words from Lou's own memory for in 1912, she wrote and published two articles in the Confederate Veteran Magazine describing exactly what happened in May of 1863, though she fails to mention too many names. It seems Lou was reluctant to state the names of anyone still alive in 1912. Frank James, one of the men involved in the retaliation for Lou's arrest, did not die until February 1915.
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| Pictured is Frank James around the time of the Civil War, most probably, at the end, so he was perhaps two years young than this in 1863 – 20 years old. |
I can only imagine how terrifying it must have been to be 20 and living on a farm in rural Missouri, husband off to war and only a young child and 10-year-old brother for companionship. Yet, this was the fact of Lou's life when on the night of May 14, 1863, she was awakened to find five Federal soldiers at her door, barging in and asking her where her husband, Moses, was. Moses had been spotted in the vicinity, as the McCoy's lived on the north side of the Missouri River (Missouri City itself exists right on the banks of the river, though the McCoy's lived a short way outside of town).
"I don't know," said Lou, who added saucily, "And I would not tell you if I did." (spunky little gal!)
"We hang men to make them tell what we want to know and we hanged one woman," replied the soldier.
Despite knowing great fear, Lou squared her shoulders and, dripping with sarcasm said, "You all look brave enough to hang a woman."
The men left, but Lou knew they would return and began packing immediately.
Lou states in her 1912 articles that she fully believed "the boldness of my reply was all that saved me that night."
By now, May of 1863, women had become the target of policies implemented to curtail insurrection against the Federal troops in Missouri, which included imprisonment of women, but also confiscation of property and banishment from their homes and state. In fact, later that year, Jesse and Frank James' own mother, stepfather and siblings would be banished to Nebraska for their southern sympathies, despite paying the loyalty oath.
Quantrill's guerrillas, often known as "Partisan Rangers" were usually those who delivered vengeance against the Federal soldiers who targeted women and families. As a result of the guerrilla's vow to deliver revenge, an order by General Ewing, the provost marshal, stated that no guerrillas were to be taking prisoner. If they were captured, they were to be immediately executed. And so the guerrillas adopted the same policy, thus things became even more bloody here in Missouri.
In this case, Frank James, the future post-war outlaw, would be one of the men to exact revenge against the soldiers who would return to Lou's farm the next day and arrest her, separating her from her 18-month-old child and brother, and sending her north to St. Joseph, Mo. Frank had just joined Quantrill's group and volunteered to be sent to Missouri City.
Despite having served for the Missouri State Guard in 1861 and heading home to Kearney after his service, Frank was pushed into signing a loyalty oath to the Union and paying the required $1,000. Not one to lay down and play dead, Frank was still a true southern sympathizer and got himself arrested again in the spring of 1863 basically for rabble rousing. However, he managed to escape from the Liberty Arsenal prison with some help from the outside – it is believed that our Lou McCoy is the one who sprung Frank from prison. Though that has never been proven, nor did she ever admit to the deed.
It was at this time that Frank decided to join William Clarke Quantrill's group – a move that would change his life and ultimately ... his younger brother Jesse's.
And of course, Lou McCoy's life would never be the same either.
Part II tomorrow ...
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