After the seriousness of all that Civil War history, I need a break to write something on the lighter side.
One of the greatest blessings of growing up in my family was the hilarity of living in our house. My father, despite being so serious on Sundays – as an Episcopal minister, had the best sense of humor I've ever come across. And when he found something funny, he reacted by howling with laughter until his eyes teared up and he'd be slapping his thighs with great glee.
My sister had a dryer sense of humor, and liked to express it through emails and short stories than verbally, but she let it rip one way or the other.
My sense of humor runs the gamut from bawdy to goofy. After all, I did cut my teeth on Mel Brooks and Monty Python and the Holy Grail movies ... not to mention Cheech and Chong.
My mother found humor in things, but was more serious than the rest of us as was my brother, who instead, had a huge streak of mischievousness. My sister and I were always his 'dumber than dirt' victims – he got us every time.
With the passing of my sister this year and my dad 11 years ago, gone are those daily doses of tongue in cheek humor. So, as I have gone through papers this year, I've come across some of the more hysterical sides of us – yes we wrote them down; specifically my sister and I who would banter back and forth via e-mail daily, despite the fact we saw each other every day.
The following are a few anecdotes from a flurry of e-mails after I had suffered through a six-week respiratory infection that I thought I'd never get over, considering I rarely get sick. This particular time I was out of work for at least a week straight and a few additional days here and there, along with having to take about five antibiotics until one finally worked.
The more I wrote to my sister, the funnier her responses, until I lost track of whose comments were whose. If you insult easily – read no further. But if you are human, and have a sense of humor ...
• You know you're really sick when you've seen every episode of HGTV and can now build your own home, buy a house on Belize, remodel the basement and lust after the hot landscape designer Jamie Durie in your sleep.
• You know you're really sick when, after the 19th day, you realize you've gone through five bags of cough drops, 1 1/2 boxes of Throat Coat hot tea, most of a lemon juice container, 12 oz. of honey, 1 gallon of water a day, a bottle of eucalyptus essential oil, half a container of Vick's, one entire package of mini pads (I'm over 50 and coughed A LOT!), a weeks worth of underwear in three days, two boxes of Tylenol night and day cold remedy – in the first seven days of sickness, one box of buttered popcorn that just didn't taste as good as it should have, and 24 sugar-free Popsicles in four days.
• You know you're really sick when you find the act of one of your cats washing the face of the other cat simply fascinating and you've just spent an hour watching them do it.
• You know you're really sick when you treat yourself to fried chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy and biscuits with honey and it tastes like cardboard.
• You know you're really sick when someone, like your boss, really makes you furious and you experience untold rage that you express and then 24 hours later you realize you've been on massive doses of steroids for the previous four days. Oops.
• You know you've been sick for too long when on the 19th day you realize that the skin is hanging off the back of your hands – and it also strangely fascinates you for hours on end.
• You know you're really sick when you take five-plus prescriptions, are halfway through them and begin to panic when you realize that ALL of them cause constipation ... and you have hemorrhoids.
• You know you're really sick when you finally have a "BM" and exit the bathroom to find your two cats nervously pacing in front of the bathroom door – ostensibly because the sounds you were making in there were not really human – and they were worried that if you died who was going to feed them.
• You know you're really sick when you do finally have the long-awaited "BM" and you have to share it with someone – in this case – my sister who gets as much glee from it as I do and she manages to find a Dayspring Christian E-card with a psalm on it that is strangely appropriate for a hurt poop.
• You know you're really sick when on the night of your worst crisis, you are groggily planning your funeral and, on the one hand, you're grateful you don't have to pay anymore bills, and on the other hand you suppose your family will miss you, and on the other hand, who will take care of the cats, and on the other hand, you'll be in heaven and won't really care.
• You know you're really sick when you've slept in the living room for three weeks already and you find yourself moving from the recliner to the couch and back again nonstop throughout the night. And ... it takes three trips each time you move – because you have to take your blankie, your phone, a flashlight so you don't trip over the hovering cat, your nose drops, at least two cough drops, your water bottle and two Kleenex – one stuffed in your pants so you don't lose it and one crumpled up in your hand. Unfortunately, I always managed to lose the tissue stuffed in my waistband until the next morning when I found a white, half-moon circle full of crumpled tissues all around the toilet because they've fallen out of my pants during visits to the "torture room."
During my ordeal, my husband and I decided I needed to go to the emergency room. We both got up around 1 a.m. that morning, but we were having a full-blown blizzard, so we decided to wait until first light. We spent the early morning hours watching, you guessed it – back-to-back episodes of HGTV, while eating Popsicles.
The trip to the ER was an adventure – the kind you have when you go on a hiking vacation and find yourself surrounded by mountain lions, bears, snakes and mosquitoes ... no fun at all.
We have a very small hospital here and it's run by the HCA health system. If you know anything about HCA, they're not very good, despite being one of the largest health care systems in the country. It's all about the money-making, not service or care and they over-work the poor people who staff our little hospital.
I spent almost five hours in the tiny ER with just about two other patients that morning. Despite being in a room next to the nurse's station and the fact that I was coughing uncontrollably about every 30 seconds, they kept forgetting I was in there. Or maybe they forgot accidentally on purpose. I sure sounded like I had the cooties.
They knew I couldn't breathe if I laid down, so I had to sit, on the edge of the bed for nearly five hours and the only treatment I got was one respiratory treatment from the therapist, who handed me an inhaler, demonstrated how to use and said it would be done in 10 minutes. He then walked away as fast as his pudgy little feet would take him and I never saw him again. That 10 minute treatment I had to give to myself cost me over $800. The prescription for the same inhaler? It was $15.
At one point during my foray into the ER, I was told I needed a chest X-ray. Finally, after an hour wait, the technician came to get me and walked me over to the "room." For some reason the X-ray room is kept colder than a walk-in freezer. She asks me if I'm wearing a bra. 'Can't you tell?' I think to myself. I'm in my mid-50s, huge, and they're not hanging to my ankles. Of course I'm wearing a bra! Plus it's freezing in here!
But I was nice. I replied, "Yes," to which she said, "Please remove it and I'll be right back."
She doesn't give me the standard Johnnie to wear, which I find odd, but I remove my sweatshirt and bra and she knocks on the door a few minutes later.
"Come in," I say with my two wrinkled, woefully small hands trying to cover my size 40D breasts. The technician's eyes widen as she looks at me, starts to laugh and says, "I'm sorry, I wasn't clear. You only had to take the bra off, not the sweatshirt."
Um - the bra was UNDER the sweatshirt. Had to remove one to get to the other. Duh!
During this entire time I was completely alone. My husband, who had brought me to the ER, had been aghast at all the people sick in the ER (ya think?). And after pulling a crucifix and some garlic from his pocket, he retreated to the far reaches of the parking lot (even during a snowstorm, no matter how sick you are - you MUST always park in the furthest spot from the door, to prevent someone from hitting your car door with their door handle).
Three hours into the ER visit, the doctor announced I had bronchitis and an upper respiratory infection and said she'd be right back with the scripts and discharge papers.
I never saw her again.
An hour and half after that, a nurse whom I'd not seen before came in and gave me my "get out of jail free" card.
My last order of business was to wander through the parking lot looking for the man belonging to me hiding in the little car somewhere behind the plowed snow, way back in the parking lot.
Being sick is no fun. I rarely do get sick, but have had this two more times. Nevertheless, I'm much more savvy about it. As soon as I get it and three days have passed with no let-up to the coughing, I head to my doctor's office, ask for the strongest antibiotic they can give me, stop by the supermarket for prunes, bran muffins and Ex-lax, and get to healing before I end up back at that hospital again.
Thursday, August 8, 2013
Wednesday, August 7, 2013
An outrage against women – The Civil War and women in Missouri – Part VI
To me, our heroine Lou McCoy was an enigma. She stood up to the Union soldiers who came to her door and she had to have heard the horrible stories about the soldiers raping, pillaging and burning homes and barns, as well as taking livestock and food.
She had her beliefs and she held onto them. I think to Lou, it was not what color uniform a man wore, it was did he need something? Food? Clothing? Shelter?
Lou made a statement to Union officials on May 22, 1863, while in custody just a few days after the Missouri City raid.
"I do not know what I was arrested for, but was told it was for feeding bushwhackers, but I do not believe I have ever been guilty of that. I have fed both parties. No Union man ever came to my house and asked for something to eat but what he got it. It made no difference whether they were union men or rebels – I fed them. I never turned off any one who was hungry. I will take the oath willingly and live up to it. I would not take the oath unless I intended to live up to it.
"It cannot be proved that I ever done any disloyal act. I do not know what a disloyal act is. They say it is feeding rebels ... my enemies have said a great many things of me which are not so ... I fed rebels. I only meant that they had come to my house and asked for something to eat and I gave it to them. I did not think I was doing anything wrong.
"I have two children. I have one brother in the Federal army ... most of my relatives are in the Federal Army, some are in the secession Army."
Lou signed the oath of allegiance and was paroled. Still, she did what she felt was right. In her 1912 article for Confederate Veteran Magazine, she described a "thrilling experience" before she left St. Joseph.
She had her beliefs and she held onto them. I think to Lou, it was not what color uniform a man wore, it was did he need something? Food? Clothing? Shelter?
Lou made a statement to Union officials on May 22, 1863, while in custody just a few days after the Missouri City raid.
"I do not know what I was arrested for, but was told it was for feeding bushwhackers, but I do not believe I have ever been guilty of that. I have fed both parties. No Union man ever came to my house and asked for something to eat but what he got it. It made no difference whether they were union men or rebels – I fed them. I never turned off any one who was hungry. I will take the oath willingly and live up to it. I would not take the oath unless I intended to live up to it.
"It cannot be proved that I ever done any disloyal act. I do not know what a disloyal act is. They say it is feeding rebels ... my enemies have said a great many things of me which are not so ... I fed rebels. I only meant that they had come to my house and asked for something to eat and I gave it to them. I did not think I was doing anything wrong.
"I have two children. I have one brother in the Federal army ... most of my relatives are in the Federal Army, some are in the secession Army."
Lou signed the oath of allegiance and was paroled. Still, she did what she felt was right. In her 1912 article for Confederate Veteran Magazine, she described a "thrilling experience" before she left St. Joseph.
"I suppose it is a mystery to this day how Captain Burkholder escaped from prison. It was Mrs. Howard, of St. Joe, and I who set him free. After I was paroled, I went with Mrs. Howard to the hospital to visit the sick. Captain Burkholder was there. He was a prisoner, held as a spy and condemned to death. He had been captured within the lines at Missouri City dressed in citizen's clothes.
"I knew him, he was a friend of the Hardwicks, and Ella Hardwick's lover (the Hardwicks owned the hotel in Missouri City in which Benjamin Rapp had been taken after being shot in the May 19th ambush). He [Burkholder] had risked his life in the enemy lines in order to see his sweetheart. Captain Burkholder told us of his perilous situation. We said we would aid him to escape if we could. He said the prison keeper had agreed to give him a cap and coat if they would serve him, and then he said, 'If you two can come here just before dark, I can manage it. I'll put on my cap and coat to disguise myself and go out with you, giving the countersign, which I know, to the guards. If you can have a conveyance ready outside, I will surely get away.
"We carried out the plan successfully. Mrs. Howard found a true man who stationed himself in a carriage just back of the hospital. Captain Burkholder walked out with us, giving the countersign, entered the carriage and was quickly on his way to Rock House Prairie, where I had a friend who would aid him further by buying a ticket for him at the station and sending him on to Canada – out of reach of the hangman's halter and he got safely away without our being suspected."
Lou returned to her home in Missouri City, but the feisty 20-year-old wasn't finished yet. Three months later she was arrested again.
 |
| Pictured is the lay of the land in present day from the hills of Clay County overlooking river bottom land toward Missouri City where Lou McCoy lived. There is plenty of hilly, rolling land until the river bottom, which is vast, lush, and prime for planting. (Photo by Liz Johnson) |
"A squad of soldiers came to my house and read to me an order from General Rosencrans, dated from Washington, D.C., I think, which stated that every officer's family was to be put through the lines [banishment]. The paper also charged that I had come on in advance of General Price on his raid.
"My husband, Captain McCoy, had done that, but they charged me with it. Captain McCoy had come in advance of General Price, had caught one of Captain Garth's men and had sworn them out of service till exchanged.
"Garth's boys had gone out grape hunting with some of the girls of Liberty, but where they could not find any grapes, they found themselves surrounded by McCoy's men of Price's army, captured and paroled. They were of the militia pressed into service against their will, and were glad to be released to respect this oath."
And so Lou was to be banished from her home in Missouri. She had little time to prepare and departed Liberty somewhere around Feb. 15, 1864.
"We were taken to the railroad station by a lieutenant and five privates, who accompanied us to Pine Bluff, Arkansas. There were 13 families of us in all, some of them from Jackson County. When we arrived in Pine Bluff, a new escort received and receipted for us as if we had been so many cattle.
"While we were waiting, two families succeeded in having the order to send them through the lines revoked. At this, others of us undertook to have the order revoked in our favor. I asked a sergeant to tell General Clayton that some of us would like to speak to him. With a sneer he replied, 'Do you know what you would have to do in order to speak to General Clayton? You would have to send in a gilt-edged card on a golden plate.'"
Lou was always quick witted and replied, "'Why wouldn't it do to send a white sheet of paper, turned down at the right-hand corner and on it written, 'Urbanity of Tom, Dick or Harry? You can tell General Clayton that my husband is one of Joe Shelby's staff officers.'"
The strategy worked and within a few minutes, General Clayton came to the door asking for "the little Rebel Captain who wishes to speak to me."
Unfortunately, despite finding Lou rather charming, the general reported that her case had gone too far for the order of banishment to be revoked and so the group continued on their way.
They were traveling in open wagons with escorts on horseback, with one carrying a white flag. The flag was to let the "graybacks" know that the group was just passing through and it was important to keep the flag unfurled.
Lou said that before too long they saw an army of men ahead of them and sure enough, they were wearing gray. "The Confederate commander halted his men and advanced alone to meet us. Seeing this, our lieutenant, ordering the escort to remain with us, rode forward."
The two enemies faced each other, tipped their hats and shook hands. All was civil and the Confederate soldier was permitted to come and meet each of the group of southern sympathizers now banished from their homes.
It turned out the Confederate soldier was from Clay County and a few members of the group knew who he was.
"As the squad of Confederates approached us we waved our handkerchiefs. Then we all, gray and blue, were taken to Dr Ferguson's house, where the officers exchanged writings. Our officers were Boes Roberts and Col. Gil Thompson," recounted Lou.
"That night the prisoners were given shelter in Dr. Ferguson's house, while gray and blue remained by camp fires till morning. The Yankee escort went back and we went on to Monticello, where we remained until the surrender."
Sadly, Lou's husband, Moses McCoy, died soon after the war. She said in her 1912 article that she believed William Quantrill and his guerrillas came to Missouri City to help her because her husband had helped them in a time of need.
Lou's story was just one of hundreds of women's stories during the war – in every state involved in the conflict. She was actually lucky – despite being banished from her home, as she never had to serve time in one of the dirty, rat-infested prisons in St. Louis.
Lou McCoy eventually remarried twice and ended up in Texas toward the end of her life. She was feisty, tenacious and brave – an example of the true spirit of a pioneer woman.
Lurena "Lou" McCoy Lucas Gentry died on Jan. 1, 1916 in Mansfield, Tarrant County, Texas.
Tuesday, August 6, 2013
An outrage against women – The Civil War and women in Missouri, Part V
One of the most important learning experiences in studying and researching history is to understand that the cast of characters were all real people. They had lives just like you and me. They had moms and dads, brothers and sisters; perhaps they were married and had children of their own. They had businesses, were farmers or worked for someone else. They lived and breathed, just like we do. They had dreams and aspirations – and they didn't want to die young.
No matter how gruesome the Civil War became, no matter how heinous the acts, whether perpetuated by the Union, Confederates or guerrillas, every single participant was a human being with feelings, thoughts, cares, and a heart that beat within their breast.
I discovered all of this when conducting my research on Jesse James. My original historic articles were very well received while I worked at the newspaper in Excelsior Springs. I had people from all over the country who read the articles with interest. The articles also captured the attention of the folks at the James Farm, not only because they permitted me to research within their most cherished archival walls, but because they said they liked how I interpreted the James family.
With all of this in mind, I seem to have managed to get inside the head of Jesse James ... I still have much more research to do on Frank and the rest of the family. Nevertheless, Jesse – gregarious, charming, handsome, fun with a mischievous sense of humor, loyal, a dedicated family man, a person who loved the Bible and scripture, and one who seemed to have no fear – charmed me 130 years after his death.
There was more to the man and what made him who he became than the legends that survive to this day. Some of the critics of my articles were those who simply believe the legends. Who only saw that he was an outlaw and had killed people. They didn't take into consideration his past, his childhood, the effects the Civil War had on him and his family, and the fact that due to the time into which he was born, he had no chance for a different life.
Yet, here he remains – now 131 years after his death and still talked about. Did he leave buried treasure? (the answer is no) Did he really die on April 3, 1882 in the little house in St. Joseph, Mo., or was one of the many impostors really Jesse? (yes he did die that day in 1882, DNA testing proved it and he never would have left his children and wife behind to struggle for all those years)
Frank James, called "Buck" by Jesse, was a quiet, introspective man, even from childhood. A childhood pal once said he was intense and would manage to get others to fight his battles for him while he stood back and watched. He loved Shakespeare and was known for quoting the bard while robbing trains after the war.
It is believed that Frank was the more deadly of the two brothers. Indeed, he saw the bloody Battle of Lexington (known as the Battle of the Hemp Bales) in Sept. of 1861; he participated in the even more heinous attack on Lawrence, KS, which took place in August 1863, not long after the events in Missouri City, which means Frank was still a very new member of Quantrill's men. He was living in Maryland when his brother was shot by Robert Ford in 1882 and instead of rushing home to his brother's funeral, he strategized very carefully in order to surrender to authorities, stood trial several times and was acquitted on all charges.
Frank lived a long life, but never made much money – which goes to show that the men never buried their loot anywhere. They never took in very large hauls and always had to split the money between themselves and fellow gang members.
He lived with, and loved his adoring, gentle wife, Annie Ralston James. He doted on his son Bob and he revered his strong-willed mother Zerelda.
Frank was a fairly young man in 1863 at the time of the Missouri City ambush. He was 20 years old and had seen the brutalities of battle as well as its affects on the Missouri pioneers. It is widely held by Missouri City historians that Frank was the one who stepped forward and finished off Darius Sessions in cold blood, though it has never been proven by either the Federals or Frank himself. And as we remember, even Lou McCoy didn't point the shooting finger at Frank, who was still alive at the time of her 1912 articles.
My opinion on the shooting is ambivalent. Frank had just joined Quantrill's group, this was allegedly his first act as a guerrilla so he may have been eager to show his merit and stepped forward and shot Sessions dead – or one of the other men. Otherwise, he may have been told to stand back and cover the other, more experienced bushwhackers. We will never know.
So, who were the Union men who died that day?
Darius Sessions was only 39 when he died. He was mayor of Missouri City and had come to Missouri from New York. At one time he had been in the mercantile business with Brian Nowlin (the owner of the store the guerrillas 'pretended' to rob and who served as an elder at Pisgah Baptist Church in 1850 with the James brother's father). They were in business together in 1854 when Missouri City was then called Richfield.
In 1856, Nowlin and Sessions ended their partnership and Sessions became a member of the Know Nothing party that hated foreigners and Catholics. He espoused abolitionism, for which he was mobbed and nearly lynched in 1856.
Even though Sessions described himself as an abolitionist, he owned two slaves – two females, one 36 and one 15. He also had a wife and two children, ages two and five, at the time he was killed. It is not known to this writer what became of his wife and children, they were just three of many left without their father and husband from that bitter war.
Darius Sessions was buried in Missouri City on May 21, 1863 with military honors.
Little is known about Benjamin Rapp, the man who survived the many shots from the guerrillas that day. He was a private at the time of the ambush and was later promoted to sergeant. It is believed that he was Jewish and that his family emigrated from Germany during the 1840s.
Louis Grafenstein immigrated to America, landing in New Albany, NY on July 22, 1856, with his family. He was the only boy out of six children. He was 18 and born in Prussia, sailing to the U.S. on the Amaranth, departing from the port of Bremen, Germany. Before the war his occupation was that of a barber.
Interestingly, Grafenstein had fought for the Union at the Battle of Lexington (possibly at some point facing Frank James in battle). He was with the 13th Missouri Infantry, Company B during that battle and was captured by the Confederates (who won the battle) – surrendered, but not paroled – and went into the 25th Missouri Infantry.
Grafenstein was moved around after the 1861 battle. He was sent to southeast Missouri and then back to St. Joseph, north of Kansas City, where he was then sent to Missouri City to serve under Darius Sessions, where he would die in a hail of bullets.
Being of German descent, Grafenstein would have also been a target of the guerrillas who knew that the many German settlers in Missouri at the time of the war were all northern sympathizers. Even though the Germans settled all over the state, there were many in the Little Dixie area along the river and thus another example of neighbors turning against neighbors in this most intense of civil wars.
It is still speculated that Frank James may have been the man who shot Lt. Louis Gravenstein.
Grafenstein's body was returned to St. Joseph where his family lived and is probably buried there.
Sam Nowlin, the co-owner of the general store where the guerrillas faked the robbery after the ambush. Again, Nowlin had served in the state guard with Frank James in 1861 and fought in the Battle of Lexington alongside his friend, however, he and his father, Brian Nowlin, had signed the loyalty oath by the time of the May 1863 raid.
Later in the war, Sam was forced to join the U.S. Paw Paw Militia, the 82nd Missouri, to defend against guerrilla attacks. He and his father continued in their mercantile business until the Jayhawker raid of 1864 robbed them of $2,000 in goods.
The Nowlin store became a bank after the Civil War and still says "bank" on the outside. It is now a museum owned by Jay Jackson and is on the list of National Historic Landmarks.
Moses McCoy, the man whose wife, Lou, was the cause of the 1863 ambush, lived on a small farm of approximately 80 acres, about two miles north of Missouri City, across what is now Highway 210. It is believed that the location of his farm was probably quite beautiful, existing on a small hillside overlooking the Missouri River.
I know little about the fate of Moses McCoy, but I do believe he died fairly young as Lou McCoy would remarry at a later time.
East of the McCoy's would have been the farm of Lou's parents, David P. and Lydia A. (Wall) Alder.
The fate of Lou McCoy will be covered in the final part to this series.
Louis Vandiver, a member of Quantrill's group and the brother of Mrs. Adams – the woman who witnessed Lou McCoy being carted away by the Union soldiers – screwed himself by bragging on the streets of Liberty that he was the one who killed Darius Sessions. He was captured and hung for the crime.
As you can see, all of these people had their own lives, businesses, occupations, beliefs and families. They were from different ethnic backgrounds, yet their lives all crossed on that fateful day, May 19, 1863 just outside of Missouri City, Missouri.
I think that were anyone to study all the small, seemingly insignificant skirmishes or ambushes throughout the Civil War, they would find each one had far reaching affects on the lives of all involved.
In this case, Lou McCoy's life would forever be changed as there is more to her story.
The year 1863 would bring several more skirmishes that would be bloody and life-altering for Frank James and Quantrill's group, some of which involved Colorado men, local families and of course, the infamous raid on Lawrence, Kan., not to forget the banishment of the James family to Nebraska and Jesse joining the raiders in early 1864.
Tomorrow I will conclude this series by focusing on the heroine of this story, Lou McCoy. Her incarceration in St. Joseph did not squash her enthusiasm, patriotism or dedication to the cause.
No matter how gruesome the Civil War became, no matter how heinous the acts, whether perpetuated by the Union, Confederates or guerrillas, every single participant was a human being with feelings, thoughts, cares, and a heart that beat within their breast.
I discovered all of this when conducting my research on Jesse James. My original historic articles were very well received while I worked at the newspaper in Excelsior Springs. I had people from all over the country who read the articles with interest. The articles also captured the attention of the folks at the James Farm, not only because they permitted me to research within their most cherished archival walls, but because they said they liked how I interpreted the James family.
With all of this in mind, I seem to have managed to get inside the head of Jesse James ... I still have much more research to do on Frank and the rest of the family. Nevertheless, Jesse – gregarious, charming, handsome, fun with a mischievous sense of humor, loyal, a dedicated family man, a person who loved the Bible and scripture, and one who seemed to have no fear – charmed me 130 years after his death.
There was more to the man and what made him who he became than the legends that survive to this day. Some of the critics of my articles were those who simply believe the legends. Who only saw that he was an outlaw and had killed people. They didn't take into consideration his past, his childhood, the effects the Civil War had on him and his family, and the fact that due to the time into which he was born, he had no chance for a different life.
Yet, here he remains – now 131 years after his death and still talked about. Did he leave buried treasure? (the answer is no) Did he really die on April 3, 1882 in the little house in St. Joseph, Mo., or was one of the many impostors really Jesse? (yes he did die that day in 1882, DNA testing proved it and he never would have left his children and wife behind to struggle for all those years)
Frank James, called "Buck" by Jesse, was a quiet, introspective man, even from childhood. A childhood pal once said he was intense and would manage to get others to fight his battles for him while he stood back and watched. He loved Shakespeare and was known for quoting the bard while robbing trains after the war.
It is believed that Frank was the more deadly of the two brothers. Indeed, he saw the bloody Battle of Lexington (known as the Battle of the Hemp Bales) in Sept. of 1861; he participated in the even more heinous attack on Lawrence, KS, which took place in August 1863, not long after the events in Missouri City, which means Frank was still a very new member of Quantrill's men. He was living in Maryland when his brother was shot by Robert Ford in 1882 and instead of rushing home to his brother's funeral, he strategized very carefully in order to surrender to authorities, stood trial several times and was acquitted on all charges.
Frank lived a long life, but never made much money – which goes to show that the men never buried their loot anywhere. They never took in very large hauls and always had to split the money between themselves and fellow gang members.
He lived with, and loved his adoring, gentle wife, Annie Ralston James. He doted on his son Bob and he revered his strong-willed mother Zerelda.
Frank was a fairly young man in 1863 at the time of the Missouri City ambush. He was 20 years old and had seen the brutalities of battle as well as its affects on the Missouri pioneers. It is widely held by Missouri City historians that Frank was the one who stepped forward and finished off Darius Sessions in cold blood, though it has never been proven by either the Federals or Frank himself. And as we remember, even Lou McCoy didn't point the shooting finger at Frank, who was still alive at the time of her 1912 articles.
My opinion on the shooting is ambivalent. Frank had just joined Quantrill's group, this was allegedly his first act as a guerrilla so he may have been eager to show his merit and stepped forward and shot Sessions dead – or one of the other men. Otherwise, he may have been told to stand back and cover the other, more experienced bushwhackers. We will never know.
So, who were the Union men who died that day?
Darius Sessions was only 39 when he died. He was mayor of Missouri City and had come to Missouri from New York. At one time he had been in the mercantile business with Brian Nowlin (the owner of the store the guerrillas 'pretended' to rob and who served as an elder at Pisgah Baptist Church in 1850 with the James brother's father). They were in business together in 1854 when Missouri City was then called Richfield.
In 1856, Nowlin and Sessions ended their partnership and Sessions became a member of the Know Nothing party that hated foreigners and Catholics. He espoused abolitionism, for which he was mobbed and nearly lynched in 1856.
Even though Sessions described himself as an abolitionist, he owned two slaves – two females, one 36 and one 15. He also had a wife and two children, ages two and five, at the time he was killed. It is not known to this writer what became of his wife and children, they were just three of many left without their father and husband from that bitter war.
Darius Sessions was buried in Missouri City on May 21, 1863 with military honors.
Little is known about Benjamin Rapp, the man who survived the many shots from the guerrillas that day. He was a private at the time of the ambush and was later promoted to sergeant. It is believed that he was Jewish and that his family emigrated from Germany during the 1840s.
Louis Grafenstein immigrated to America, landing in New Albany, NY on July 22, 1856, with his family. He was the only boy out of six children. He was 18 and born in Prussia, sailing to the U.S. on the Amaranth, departing from the port of Bremen, Germany. Before the war his occupation was that of a barber.
Interestingly, Grafenstein had fought for the Union at the Battle of Lexington (possibly at some point facing Frank James in battle). He was with the 13th Missouri Infantry, Company B during that battle and was captured by the Confederates (who won the battle) – surrendered, but not paroled – and went into the 25th Missouri Infantry.
Grafenstein was moved around after the 1861 battle. He was sent to southeast Missouri and then back to St. Joseph, north of Kansas City, where he was then sent to Missouri City to serve under Darius Sessions, where he would die in a hail of bullets.
Being of German descent, Grafenstein would have also been a target of the guerrillas who knew that the many German settlers in Missouri at the time of the war were all northern sympathizers. Even though the Germans settled all over the state, there were many in the Little Dixie area along the river and thus another example of neighbors turning against neighbors in this most intense of civil wars.
It is still speculated that Frank James may have been the man who shot Lt. Louis Gravenstein.
Grafenstein's body was returned to St. Joseph where his family lived and is probably buried there.
Sam Nowlin, the co-owner of the general store where the guerrillas faked the robbery after the ambush. Again, Nowlin had served in the state guard with Frank James in 1861 and fought in the Battle of Lexington alongside his friend, however, he and his father, Brian Nowlin, had signed the loyalty oath by the time of the May 1863 raid.
Later in the war, Sam was forced to join the U.S. Paw Paw Militia, the 82nd Missouri, to defend against guerrilla attacks. He and his father continued in their mercantile business until the Jayhawker raid of 1864 robbed them of $2,000 in goods.
The Nowlin store became a bank after the Civil War and still says "bank" on the outside. It is now a museum owned by Jay Jackson and is on the list of National Historic Landmarks.
 |
| A modern photo of the general store owned by Brian and Sam Nowlin, which was raided by Frank James and his fellow guerrillas after the ambush in Missouri City, May 19, 1863. Pictured is the wife of owner, Jay Jackson posing as Lou McCoy; Monty Griffey (descendant of Fannie Quantrill Samuel); historian Tony Meyers portraying Frank James; Betty Barr, great-granddaughter of Jesse James; Jay Jackson, historian and owner of the Frank James Bank and Museum; and Scott Cole, a direct descendant of Zerelda Cole James Simms Samuel's brother, Jesse Cole. The photo was taken during the Friends of the James Farm 2012 reunion by Liz Johnson. |
Moses McCoy, the man whose wife, Lou, was the cause of the 1863 ambush, lived on a small farm of approximately 80 acres, about two miles north of Missouri City, across what is now Highway 210. It is believed that the location of his farm was probably quite beautiful, existing on a small hillside overlooking the Missouri River.
I know little about the fate of Moses McCoy, but I do believe he died fairly young as Lou McCoy would remarry at a later time.
East of the McCoy's would have been the farm of Lou's parents, David P. and Lydia A. (Wall) Alder.
The fate of Lou McCoy will be covered in the final part to this series.
Louis Vandiver, a member of Quantrill's group and the brother of Mrs. Adams – the woman who witnessed Lou McCoy being carted away by the Union soldiers – screwed himself by bragging on the streets of Liberty that he was the one who killed Darius Sessions. He was captured and hung for the crime.
As you can see, all of these people had their own lives, businesses, occupations, beliefs and families. They were from different ethnic backgrounds, yet their lives all crossed on that fateful day, May 19, 1863 just outside of Missouri City, Missouri.
I think that were anyone to study all the small, seemingly insignificant skirmishes or ambushes throughout the Civil War, they would find each one had far reaching affects on the lives of all involved.
In this case, Lou McCoy's life would forever be changed as there is more to her story.
The year 1863 would bring several more skirmishes that would be bloody and life-altering for Frank James and Quantrill's group, some of which involved Colorado men, local families and of course, the infamous raid on Lawrence, Kan., not to forget the banishment of the James family to Nebraska and Jesse joining the raiders in early 1864.
Tomorrow I will conclude this series by focusing on the heroine of this story, Lou McCoy. Her incarceration in St. Joseph did not squash her enthusiasm, patriotism or dedication to the cause.
Monday, August 5, 2013
An outrage against women – the Civil War and women in Missouri, Part IV
The arrest of Mrs. Lurena "Lou" McCoy, wife of Confederate officer, Moses McCoy, in May of 1863, was just one small drop in the bucket concerning the role of women in the Civil War.
By the time of Lou's arrest, women had become the target of policies implemented to halt the insurrection during the U.S. Army occupation of Missouri. Many would die in the defense of the women and often, the Partisan Rangers, also commonly known as Quantrill's Raiders, bushwhackers or guerrillas, were the ones who delivered the revenge for these acts against women.
Colonel Benjamin F. Parker, who was commissioned to enlist men into the Confederate Partisan Rangers and who assisted Quantrill in the March 14, 1862 raid on Liberty, Mo., wrote a letter to U.S. General James G. Blunt on May 3, 1863, in which he protested Blunt's killing of prisoners and the targeting of women.
"... Our soldiers and citizens have been arrested an executed without trial, basing and resting those hellish and diabolical acts upon the testimonial of one or two unscrupulous dogs – villains that are sworn to sell and barter away the lives and liberty of men.
Your officers have arrested and banished our ladies for vindicating the sacredness of their sex against the slanders and insults of the base and unmitigated scoundrels calling themselves U.S. soldiers ...
You threaten us with extinction ... you have your choice of rope."
Stories abound throughout the Little Dixie area of Missouri relating the incredible heroic acts of women during the war. Many times they were caught and arrested, and many times the women suffered far worse consequences than Lou McCoy.
As indicated throughout this series, acts against women were not the only atrocities. Families were targeted as well and the James family was no exception.
Frank James was recognized while he was in Missouri City and it was no secret where the family farm was located in Kearney.
Union soldiers, hell bent on getting revenge for the brutal slayings of Gravenstein and Sessions, and the shooting attack on Rapp at the Hardwicke Hotel, headed for the James farm around the date of May 25, 1863 – about six days after the ambush in Missouri City.
The attack at the James farm was savage and evident of the hideous tactics used by Union soldiers all over Missouri.
The events of May 25, 1863 have, over the years, become somewhat twisted as the James boys' mother, Zerelda, retold them over and over again. However, it is very likely, due to the cruelty the Union soldiers employed, that the attack on the farm did occur fairly similar to the report of John T. Samuel years later. (John T. was the younger, half-brother of Jesse and Frank).
Author's note: After several years of researching and studying Jesse James, including the very few photos that actually exist of him, the first-hand accounts of his personality and life before, during and after the war, I found it easy to imagine a young, hot-headed, 15-year-old boy out in the field plowing and having his day turned upside down by a group of enemy soldiers descending on him and beating him to a pulp.
Jesse was his mother's son. Zerelda was outspoken and so was Jesse. He was as passionate about the war as any other teenager in that day would have been. His older brother had already fought with the State Guard and now ran with what probably seemed downright cool to a 15-year-old at the time – the guerrillas under the command of the famous William Quantrill. Jesse was fired up and wanted to join, but was inexperienced and young and Quantrill wouldn't take him – yet. Nevertheless, his smart mouth most likely didn't help him that day and knowing Jesse, I'd guess he would have rather taunted the soldiers and taken the beating, than taking it all lying down like a sissy.
John T. Samuel's account:
"Jesse was out plowing in a field ... when some northern soldiers came to the place to look for Frank. Jesse was only sixteen [he was actually only 15 as his birthday was not until Sept. 5 of that year]. They beat him up. Then they went to the house and asked where Frank was. Mother and Father [stepfather Reuben Samuel] didn't know [or pretended not to], but the soldiers wouldn't believe them. They took Father out and hung him by the neck to tell. Of course he couldn't. So they hung him again. They did that three times. Then they took him back to the house and told my Mother they were going to shoot him. She begged them not to do it, but they took him off in the woods [north of the house], and fired off their guns ... but they didn't shoot him. They just took him over to another town and put him in jail. My Mother didn't know until the next day that he hadn't been shot because the soldiers ordered her to remain in the house if she didn't want to be shot too."
[J.T. Samuel was born in 1861 and was only two at the time of the attack at the James Farm. He died n 1934.]
Zerelda was about 4 1/2 months pregnant at the time of the incident with daughter Fannie Quantrill Samuel. One can only imagine the emotions Zerelda felt that day as the beating of her boy Jesse, and hanging and possible shooting of her husband swirled around her – all the while carrying an unborn child in her belly.
Note: Fannie Quantrill Samuel would be born on Oct. 18 later that year. She married Joe C. Hall on Dec. 30, 1880, and I serve on the Friends of the James Farm board of directors with Fannie's great-grandson Monty Griffey.
Other accounts of the day, notably by James researcher, Phillip Steele in his book, "Jesse and Frank James: The Family History," stated that Jesse was "severely whipped" by the soldiers, "leaving him lying bloody and battered in the field. Half crawling back to the farmhouse, he found his mother desperately trying to revive her husband, while Jesse's sister Susan, half-sister Sarah, and small half-brother John T. looked on."
According to Ted P. Yeatman's book, "Frank and Jesse James: The Story Behind the Legend," Zerelda herself told anyone who would listen for years that she cut down her husband after the soldiers left.
The fact is, after being hung three times, Dr. Reuben Samuel did break down and tell where the guerrillas were – camped in the woods north of the house.
The Federals found the small group of bushwhackers playing Poker and began shooting. Three of the guerrillas were killed, a few injured and the rest fled into the woods. Yeatman believed that it was this shooting that a young John T. Samuel heard that day and thought it was his father being shot.
As Civil War lore states, the war often pitted father against son, brother against brother and neighbor against neighbor. This incident at the James farm was a perfect example. Two of the Union soldiers in the hanging party were Brantley Bond, a neighbor of the James' who had served with Frank in the State Guard and now was fighting for the Union. Alvis Dagley was another neighbor in on the torture and it was reported that these two were the ones who strung up the older gentleman, their neighbor, for the interrogation.
Partial hangings such as what poor Dr. Samuel endured were quite common during the Civil War as a form of torture. It worked on Samuel and, unfortunately, resulted in a lifetime of mental illness for the man. He was no longer able to practice medicine, but was forever revered by Jesse and Frank as the only father they truly knew. Due to the ravages he suffered during this raid on the farm, Dr. Samuel later had to be placed in a home for the mentally insane in St. Joseph, Mo. It was there that he died on March 1, 1908. He is buried in Mt. Olivet Cemetery in Kearney, where his wife joined him in 1911.
Zerelda, despite being halfway through her pregnancy, her Jesse bloody and battered and several young children clinging to her legs, was brave and, as was typical of the outspoken woman, gave the soldiers quite the tongue lashing as they strung her husband up on the coffee bean tree in the yard.
Her first husband's brother, Rev. William James, arrived at the farm just as the soldiers were hoisting Dr. Samuel up on the rope.
"In the center of a group of militia," he recalled, "was Mrs. Samuel, making such an outcry and giving them such a tongue-lashing as only she could give."
The reverend told her to stop, but she retorted, "How can I be still when they are hanging my husband?"
Dr. Samuel was taken to Liberty and jailed, then transferred to St. Joseph, most likely the same place Lou McCoy was incarcerated. Allegedly, Zerelda Samuel was also imprisoned and both finally took the Oath of Allegiance on June 5, 1863.
However, despite taking the oath, it didn't mean the Samuel's really sided with the Union and they were forced to flee Missouri under General Order #11 and take refuge in Nebraska until the end of the war.
While his mother and stepfather were in jail, Jesse still managed to get a good crop of tobacco out and look after his siblings. No doubt, however, the beating and hanging of his stepfather so angered him that he was itching to join his brother and Quantrill – to exact revenge on the men who had caused his mother so much anguish.
Jesse would join the guerrillas sometime in the spring of 1864, and life would never again be the same for the James brothers – or their family.
By the time of Lou's arrest, women had become the target of policies implemented to halt the insurrection during the U.S. Army occupation of Missouri. Many would die in the defense of the women and often, the Partisan Rangers, also commonly known as Quantrill's Raiders, bushwhackers or guerrillas, were the ones who delivered the revenge for these acts against women.
Colonel Benjamin F. Parker, who was commissioned to enlist men into the Confederate Partisan Rangers and who assisted Quantrill in the March 14, 1862 raid on Liberty, Mo., wrote a letter to U.S. General James G. Blunt on May 3, 1863, in which he protested Blunt's killing of prisoners and the targeting of women.
"... Our soldiers and citizens have been arrested an executed without trial, basing and resting those hellish and diabolical acts upon the testimonial of one or two unscrupulous dogs – villains that are sworn to sell and barter away the lives and liberty of men.
Your officers have arrested and banished our ladies for vindicating the sacredness of their sex against the slanders and insults of the base and unmitigated scoundrels calling themselves U.S. soldiers ...
You threaten us with extinction ... you have your choice of rope."
Stories abound throughout the Little Dixie area of Missouri relating the incredible heroic acts of women during the war. Many times they were caught and arrested, and many times the women suffered far worse consequences than Lou McCoy.
As indicated throughout this series, acts against women were not the only atrocities. Families were targeted as well and the James family was no exception.
Frank James was recognized while he was in Missouri City and it was no secret where the family farm was located in Kearney.
Union soldiers, hell bent on getting revenge for the brutal slayings of Gravenstein and Sessions, and the shooting attack on Rapp at the Hardwicke Hotel, headed for the James farm around the date of May 25, 1863 – about six days after the ambush in Missouri City.
The attack at the James farm was savage and evident of the hideous tactics used by Union soldiers all over Missouri.
The events of May 25, 1863 have, over the years, become somewhat twisted as the James boys' mother, Zerelda, retold them over and over again. However, it is very likely, due to the cruelty the Union soldiers employed, that the attack on the farm did occur fairly similar to the report of John T. Samuel years later. (John T. was the younger, half-brother of Jesse and Frank).
Author's note: After several years of researching and studying Jesse James, including the very few photos that actually exist of him, the first-hand accounts of his personality and life before, during and after the war, I found it easy to imagine a young, hot-headed, 15-year-old boy out in the field plowing and having his day turned upside down by a group of enemy soldiers descending on him and beating him to a pulp.
Jesse was his mother's son. Zerelda was outspoken and so was Jesse. He was as passionate about the war as any other teenager in that day would have been. His older brother had already fought with the State Guard and now ran with what probably seemed downright cool to a 15-year-old at the time – the guerrillas under the command of the famous William Quantrill. Jesse was fired up and wanted to join, but was inexperienced and young and Quantrill wouldn't take him – yet. Nevertheless, his smart mouth most likely didn't help him that day and knowing Jesse, I'd guess he would have rather taunted the soldiers and taken the beating, than taking it all lying down like a sissy.
John T. Samuel's account:
"Jesse was out plowing in a field ... when some northern soldiers came to the place to look for Frank. Jesse was only sixteen [he was actually only 15 as his birthday was not until Sept. 5 of that year]. They beat him up. Then they went to the house and asked where Frank was. Mother and Father [stepfather Reuben Samuel] didn't know [or pretended not to], but the soldiers wouldn't believe them. They took Father out and hung him by the neck to tell. Of course he couldn't. So they hung him again. They did that three times. Then they took him back to the house and told my Mother they were going to shoot him. She begged them not to do it, but they took him off in the woods [north of the house], and fired off their guns ... but they didn't shoot him. They just took him over to another town and put him in jail. My Mother didn't know until the next day that he hadn't been shot because the soldiers ordered her to remain in the house if she didn't want to be shot too."
 |
| Pictured is Jesse James' great-granddaughter, Betty Barr, holding a portion of the coffee bean tree from which Dr. Reuben Samuel had been hung on May 25, 1863 in the yard of the James home. Betty descends from Jesse's daughter, Mary (her grandmother). Photo taken by Liz Johnson at the Friends of the James Farm reunion 2013. |
[J.T. Samuel was born in 1861 and was only two at the time of the attack at the James Farm. He died n 1934.]
Zerelda was about 4 1/2 months pregnant at the time of the incident with daughter Fannie Quantrill Samuel. One can only imagine the emotions Zerelda felt that day as the beating of her boy Jesse, and hanging and possible shooting of her husband swirled around her – all the while carrying an unborn child in her belly.
Note: Fannie Quantrill Samuel would be born on Oct. 18 later that year. She married Joe C. Hall on Dec. 30, 1880, and I serve on the Friends of the James Farm board of directors with Fannie's great-grandson Monty Griffey.
Other accounts of the day, notably by James researcher, Phillip Steele in his book, "Jesse and Frank James: The Family History," stated that Jesse was "severely whipped" by the soldiers, "leaving him lying bloody and battered in the field. Half crawling back to the farmhouse, he found his mother desperately trying to revive her husband, while Jesse's sister Susan, half-sister Sarah, and small half-brother John T. looked on."
According to Ted P. Yeatman's book, "Frank and Jesse James: The Story Behind the Legend," Zerelda herself told anyone who would listen for years that she cut down her husband after the soldiers left.
The fact is, after being hung three times, Dr. Reuben Samuel did break down and tell where the guerrillas were – camped in the woods north of the house.
The Federals found the small group of bushwhackers playing Poker and began shooting. Three of the guerrillas were killed, a few injured and the rest fled into the woods. Yeatman believed that it was this shooting that a young John T. Samuel heard that day and thought it was his father being shot.
As Civil War lore states, the war often pitted father against son, brother against brother and neighbor against neighbor. This incident at the James farm was a perfect example. Two of the Union soldiers in the hanging party were Brantley Bond, a neighbor of the James' who had served with Frank in the State Guard and now was fighting for the Union. Alvis Dagley was another neighbor in on the torture and it was reported that these two were the ones who strung up the older gentleman, their neighbor, for the interrogation.
Partial hangings such as what poor Dr. Samuel endured were quite common during the Civil War as a form of torture. It worked on Samuel and, unfortunately, resulted in a lifetime of mental illness for the man. He was no longer able to practice medicine, but was forever revered by Jesse and Frank as the only father they truly knew. Due to the ravages he suffered during this raid on the farm, Dr. Samuel later had to be placed in a home for the mentally insane in St. Joseph, Mo. It was there that he died on March 1, 1908. He is buried in Mt. Olivet Cemetery in Kearney, where his wife joined him in 1911.
Zerelda, despite being halfway through her pregnancy, her Jesse bloody and battered and several young children clinging to her legs, was brave and, as was typical of the outspoken woman, gave the soldiers quite the tongue lashing as they strung her husband up on the coffee bean tree in the yard.
Her first husband's brother, Rev. William James, arrived at the farm just as the soldiers were hoisting Dr. Samuel up on the rope.
"In the center of a group of militia," he recalled, "was Mrs. Samuel, making such an outcry and giving them such a tongue-lashing as only she could give."
The reverend told her to stop, but she retorted, "How can I be still when they are hanging my husband?"
Dr. Samuel was taken to Liberty and jailed, then transferred to St. Joseph, most likely the same place Lou McCoy was incarcerated. Allegedly, Zerelda Samuel was also imprisoned and both finally took the Oath of Allegiance on June 5, 1863.
However, despite taking the oath, it didn't mean the Samuel's really sided with the Union and they were forced to flee Missouri under General Order #11 and take refuge in Nebraska until the end of the war.
While his mother and stepfather were in jail, Jesse still managed to get a good crop of tobacco out and look after his siblings. No doubt, however, the beating and hanging of his stepfather so angered him that he was itching to join his brother and Quantrill – to exact revenge on the men who had caused his mother so much anguish.
Jesse would join the guerrillas sometime in the spring of 1864, and life would never again be the same for the James brothers – or their family.
Saturday, August 3, 2013
An outrage against women – The Civil War and women in Missouri Part III
Remember Lou McCoy's friend, Mrs. Adams? The neighbor who saw the soldiers hauling Lou away and shouted after them that there would be consequences?
Mrs. Adams meant what she said. Upon seeing the soldiers leave with Lou in their custody, she immediately sent word to her brother, Louis Vandiver, who was serving with Quantrill. Vandiver was just across the river and he, in turn, informed Moses McCoy of his wife's arrest while he was still in Jackson County and en route to return to General Jo Shelby's command.
Capt. McCoy paid a visit to Quantrill and asked for his help. Vandiver was one of the first to volunteer his services, along with a squad of six- to eight hand-picked men including Lt. Fernando Scott, under whom Frank James was serving. Additional men included Laugh (Laftish) Easton of Clay County, Joe Hart of Andrew County, and Charles "Fletch Taylor." There is also a possibility that William Gregg, John Jackson, James Little, Henry Coward and James Bernard also joined the squad.
The mission was to go to Missouri City and exact revenge on the men responsible for arresting Lou McCoy. It was quite possibly Frank James' first guerrilla action.
On May 19, 1863, the squad crossed back over the river and went to the home of one of McCoy's neighbors, a known southern sympathizer.
Lou McCoy reported in her 1912 article in Confederate Veteran Magazine that the neighbor threatened to report the men. "Boys, I shall have to report on you. You know we are ordered to report at once if we see any bushwhackers, as they call you; and if we do not, we will be arrested, and that means prison, if not death."
However, reporting them is just what the bushwhackers wanted the man to do.
"You go straight into Missouri City and tell Sessions that Joe Hart is here with a handful of men and he can come right out and get them if he will be quick," said Hart.
Union officer Captain Joseph Schmitz of the 25th Missouri infantry, had sent 16 men from their post at the Liberty Arsenal to Missouri City sometime prior to May 19 with the idea to set up a three-part pincer maneuver to smash the guerrillas whom they believed were east of Missouri City along the Fishing River.
The mouth of the Fishing River is about eight miles east of Missouri City and 11 miles east of the Liberty Arsenal, traveling north and northwest over Missouri City. Schmitz's plan was to move forth at 9 p.m., Tuesday, May 19, with the infantry to go to the lower bridge on the Fishing River and lie in wait for the guerrillas while they would be pushed into the trap by troops coming from Camden, east of Missouri City.
However, the bushwhackers were one step ahead of Schmitz and his troops. After leaving the man's home earlier, they stationed themselves on both sides of the road in a wooded area they knew the Union soldiers would have to pass.
Meanwhile, their local man reported the guerrillas with his own contrived story. He carried a load of firewood as a decoy and informed the soldiers that the guerrillas were quite drunk and would be easy pickings.
While all this was taking place, Capt. Schmitz, unaware that the guerrillas were already in place, sent another group of men, approximately 23, under the leadership of Lieutenant Fleming at round 6 p.m. that same day to meet Lieutenant Shinn's men at the mouth of the Fishing River. The plan was for them to sweep northward at 9 p.m. to force any stray guerrillas into the infantrymen's position.
Shinn's men were part of the Provisional Enrolled Missouri Militia (PEMM), a select group of Enrolled Missouri Militia who were considered more loyal and effective than the other soldiers. They were the Union's version of today's special forces.
As soon as the guerrilla's Missouri City man reported the drunken bushwhackers, Captain Darius Sessions, not only mayor of Missouri City, but also the local militia captain of Company K, 48th Enrolled Missouri Militia, was joined by Lieutenant Grafenstein, the same feisty soldier who had escorted Lou McCoy from her home a few days earlier. They took three other 25th Missouri infantrymen with them on horseback and set out after the bushwhackers.
The five soldiers galloped out of town and straight into the trap set by Quantrill's men.
"They had not long to wait (the guerrillas), for Missouri City was only about two miles away; and soon they came in at a gallop, Sessions in the lead, Lieutenant Gravenstein next, with Rapp (one of the additional three men) and others following. They were fired into from both sides of the road," reported Lou McCoy in her 1912 article.
"Sessions fell, mortally wounded. Grafenstein was hit, but went on for a hundred yards or more before he fell from his horse. A woman passing nearby begged for his life, but the guerrillas shot him repeatedly.
"Rapp was thought to have been killed outright, but must have feigned death. The others (2 men) ran away unhurt," said Lou.
Louis Vandiver went to Sessions as he lay in the road dying. Sessions told Vandiver that he was dying and to please not shoot him anymore. But Vandiver turned to Moses McCoy, who had accompanied the guerrillas on this quest to avenge his wife's honor, and told him to finish the job.
"He is at war with you and yours – you can finish him," said Vandiver.
A person passing by with a wagon took the injured Rapp, believed to be dead by Quantrill's men, and carried him back to the Hardwick Hotel in Missouri City, where the proprietor's wife looked after him. However, upon entering the town after the ambush, the guerrillas learned of Rapp's survival and went to the hotel looking for him.
Guerrilla Fletch Taylor, who figured prominently in riding with the James brothers during the remainder of the war, and who after the war, became a Missouri state representative, went into the hotel to finish Rapp off.
Taylor pushed aside Mrs. Hardwick, wife of the hotel proprietor who was tending to Rapp, and raised his gun to shoot. Mrs. Hardwick flung her arm up to knock the gun aside and the minie ball missed Rapp, who immediately rolled off the couch he was on and under it. (account of Lou McCoy, 1912)
According to Captain Schmitz's report of the day's events, Rapp was shot three more times, but survived anyway.
As mentioned in the first of this series, it was the guerrilla's policy to kill the enemy as no quarter was given to them. An article that ran in the Liberty Tribune's May 22, 1863 edition stated, "The rascals when firing on the wounded man in town (Benjamin Rapp), declared that when any of their men were captured, they were killed, and that they intended to do the same thing – that they neither asked for nor gave quarter."
After shooting up Rapp at the hotel, the bushwhackers headed into one of the general store's in Missouri City to wreak havoc on it. The store was owned by Brian and Sam Nowlin, the same Brian Nowlin who served as an elder at Pisgah Baptist Church, at the time when Frank James' father had founded and served as the first pastor of the church in 1850.
It is most likely that Brian Nowlin knew Frank James and Frank certainly knew Brian's son, Sam, as the two had served in the Missouri State Guard together in 1861 in General Stein's Division. Indeed, both men fought in the Battle of Lexington in Sept. of 1861.
Because the two Nowlin men had been southern sympathizers and Missouri City was under Union occupation, they'd paid $5,000 bond to the Federals because of Sam's service in the state guard.
The bond would have been forfeited had the Nowlin men aided the guerrillas, so it is believed that the guerrillas faked a robbery on the Nowlin general store to make it look like they had plundered it.
The guerrillas left Nowlins' store and went to the store of James Reed where they truly did rob the man of $180 in gold, stole goods and destroyed all of Reed's valuable papers.
The Liberty Tribune reported shortly after the May 19 events in Missouri City that the guerrillas then went to Plattsburg in Clinton County, north of Liberty, where they took $11,000 in cash and destroyed 100 military muskets. Completing that task, they re-crossed the Missouri River on May 25 and rejoined Quantrill in Jackson County.
The men from the 25th Missouri Infantry who had been lying in wait for the guerrillas on May 19 were most likely in position on the Fishing River while the guerrillas, miles away, ambushed Sessions, Grafenstein, Rapp and the other two men closer to Missouri City.
The leader of the guerrilla ambush, Lt. Fernando Scott, a saddle maker from Liberty, would be dead within the month.
Survivor reports from the Union men stated that Scott was ferocious in the assault on Sessions, Grafenstein and Rapp. James writer and founder of the Kansas City Times, John Newman Edwards, described Scott in his book, "Noted Guerrillas, " that Scott was of a highly nervous disposition, sensitive and slept very little. Edwards said Scott never showed emotion or physical fear and that while under fire, Scott was cool as a cucumber. However, he also said that Scott was greatly admired by his men, gentle, rarely spoke harshly, was tender-hearted and scarcely killed anyone unless in open battle.
However, just less than a month after the ambush on Missouri City, Scott was sitting on his horse, one mile away from the fighting at Westport (now in Kansas City limits) on June 17, 1863, when a bullet from an Enfield rifle shot him through the heart, killing him instantly.
According to the Union report of the Missouri City ambush, the guerrillas attacked Sessions' group around 7:30 p.m. on the night of May 19 – a mere 90 minutes before the scheduled 9 p.m. ambush on the guerrillas by the Federals.
The Union report of the ambush was grisly. It states that Sessions and Rapp fell first from the ambush, followed by Grafenstein, then the men were rushed by the bushwhackers. Rapp was robbed and left for dead. Sessions, after pleading with Vandiver to stop shooting, was shot two- or three-times through the head. Grafenstein surrendered after his first shot, but was then shot cooly through the head two more times. Both men were stripped and robbed.
The arrest and jailing of 20-year-old Lou McCoy had been avenged.
Despite the Union occupation of Missouri City, most of the residents in and around the town were southern sympathizers, whether they had signed a loyalty oath or not, thus were not forthcoming with providing information to Union officers investigating the events of May 19.
Within a few days of the bloody ambush on Missouri City, Frank James' family would feel the repercussions. Fifteen year old Jesse would be beaten, his stepfather hung as a form of torture. The worse was yet to come.
Mrs. Adams meant what she said. Upon seeing the soldiers leave with Lou in their custody, she immediately sent word to her brother, Louis Vandiver, who was serving with Quantrill. Vandiver was just across the river and he, in turn, informed Moses McCoy of his wife's arrest while he was still in Jackson County and en route to return to General Jo Shelby's command.
Capt. McCoy paid a visit to Quantrill and asked for his help. Vandiver was one of the first to volunteer his services, along with a squad of six- to eight hand-picked men including Lt. Fernando Scott, under whom Frank James was serving. Additional men included Laugh (Laftish) Easton of Clay County, Joe Hart of Andrew County, and Charles "Fletch Taylor." There is also a possibility that William Gregg, John Jackson, James Little, Henry Coward and James Bernard also joined the squad.
The mission was to go to Missouri City and exact revenge on the men responsible for arresting Lou McCoy. It was quite possibly Frank James' first guerrilla action.
On May 19, 1863, the squad crossed back over the river and went to the home of one of McCoy's neighbors, a known southern sympathizer.
Lou McCoy reported in her 1912 article in Confederate Veteran Magazine that the neighbor threatened to report the men. "Boys, I shall have to report on you. You know we are ordered to report at once if we see any bushwhackers, as they call you; and if we do not, we will be arrested, and that means prison, if not death."
However, reporting them is just what the bushwhackers wanted the man to do.
"You go straight into Missouri City and tell Sessions that Joe Hart is here with a handful of men and he can come right out and get them if he will be quick," said Hart.
Union officer Captain Joseph Schmitz of the 25th Missouri infantry, had sent 16 men from their post at the Liberty Arsenal to Missouri City sometime prior to May 19 with the idea to set up a three-part pincer maneuver to smash the guerrillas whom they believed were east of Missouri City along the Fishing River.
The mouth of the Fishing River is about eight miles east of Missouri City and 11 miles east of the Liberty Arsenal, traveling north and northwest over Missouri City. Schmitz's plan was to move forth at 9 p.m., Tuesday, May 19, with the infantry to go to the lower bridge on the Fishing River and lie in wait for the guerrillas while they would be pushed into the trap by troops coming from Camden, east of Missouri City.
However, the bushwhackers were one step ahead of Schmitz and his troops. After leaving the man's home earlier, they stationed themselves on both sides of the road in a wooded area they knew the Union soldiers would have to pass.
Meanwhile, their local man reported the guerrillas with his own contrived story. He carried a load of firewood as a decoy and informed the soldiers that the guerrillas were quite drunk and would be easy pickings.
While all this was taking place, Capt. Schmitz, unaware that the guerrillas were already in place, sent another group of men, approximately 23, under the leadership of Lieutenant Fleming at round 6 p.m. that same day to meet Lieutenant Shinn's men at the mouth of the Fishing River. The plan was for them to sweep northward at 9 p.m. to force any stray guerrillas into the infantrymen's position.
Shinn's men were part of the Provisional Enrolled Missouri Militia (PEMM), a select group of Enrolled Missouri Militia who were considered more loyal and effective than the other soldiers. They were the Union's version of today's special forces.
As soon as the guerrilla's Missouri City man reported the drunken bushwhackers, Captain Darius Sessions, not only mayor of Missouri City, but also the local militia captain of Company K, 48th Enrolled Missouri Militia, was joined by Lieutenant Grafenstein, the same feisty soldier who had escorted Lou McCoy from her home a few days earlier. They took three other 25th Missouri infantrymen with them on horseback and set out after the bushwhackers.
The five soldiers galloped out of town and straight into the trap set by Quantrill's men.
"They had not long to wait (the guerrillas), for Missouri City was only about two miles away; and soon they came in at a gallop, Sessions in the lead, Lieutenant Gravenstein next, with Rapp (one of the additional three men) and others following. They were fired into from both sides of the road," reported Lou McCoy in her 1912 article.
"Sessions fell, mortally wounded. Grafenstein was hit, but went on for a hundred yards or more before he fell from his horse. A woman passing nearby begged for his life, but the guerrillas shot him repeatedly.
"Rapp was thought to have been killed outright, but must have feigned death. The others (2 men) ran away unhurt," said Lou.
Louis Vandiver went to Sessions as he lay in the road dying. Sessions told Vandiver that he was dying and to please not shoot him anymore. But Vandiver turned to Moses McCoy, who had accompanied the guerrillas on this quest to avenge his wife's honor, and told him to finish the job.
"He is at war with you and yours – you can finish him," said Vandiver.
A person passing by with a wagon took the injured Rapp, believed to be dead by Quantrill's men, and carried him back to the Hardwick Hotel in Missouri City, where the proprietor's wife looked after him. However, upon entering the town after the ambush, the guerrillas learned of Rapp's survival and went to the hotel looking for him.
Guerrilla Fletch Taylor, who figured prominently in riding with the James brothers during the remainder of the war, and who after the war, became a Missouri state representative, went into the hotel to finish Rapp off.
 |
| Fletch Taylor, left, Frank (seated) and Jesse James, around the end of the Civil War. Taylor would lose a hand in one of the battles of Fredericksburg (Missouri), but would go on to become a Missouri State Representative after the war. He lived to the ripe old age of 70. |
Taylor pushed aside Mrs. Hardwick, wife of the hotel proprietor who was tending to Rapp, and raised his gun to shoot. Mrs. Hardwick flung her arm up to knock the gun aside and the minie ball missed Rapp, who immediately rolled off the couch he was on and under it. (account of Lou McCoy, 1912)
According to Captain Schmitz's report of the day's events, Rapp was shot three more times, but survived anyway.
As mentioned in the first of this series, it was the guerrilla's policy to kill the enemy as no quarter was given to them. An article that ran in the Liberty Tribune's May 22, 1863 edition stated, "The rascals when firing on the wounded man in town (Benjamin Rapp), declared that when any of their men were captured, they were killed, and that they intended to do the same thing – that they neither asked for nor gave quarter."
After shooting up Rapp at the hotel, the bushwhackers headed into one of the general store's in Missouri City to wreak havoc on it. The store was owned by Brian and Sam Nowlin, the same Brian Nowlin who served as an elder at Pisgah Baptist Church, at the time when Frank James' father had founded and served as the first pastor of the church in 1850.
It is most likely that Brian Nowlin knew Frank James and Frank certainly knew Brian's son, Sam, as the two had served in the Missouri State Guard together in 1861 in General Stein's Division. Indeed, both men fought in the Battle of Lexington in Sept. of 1861.
Because the two Nowlin men had been southern sympathizers and Missouri City was under Union occupation, they'd paid $5,000 bond to the Federals because of Sam's service in the state guard.
The bond would have been forfeited had the Nowlin men aided the guerrillas, so it is believed that the guerrillas faked a robbery on the Nowlin general store to make it look like they had plundered it.
The guerrillas left Nowlins' store and went to the store of James Reed where they truly did rob the man of $180 in gold, stole goods and destroyed all of Reed's valuable papers.
The Liberty Tribune reported shortly after the May 19 events in Missouri City that the guerrillas then went to Plattsburg in Clinton County, north of Liberty, where they took $11,000 in cash and destroyed 100 military muskets. Completing that task, they re-crossed the Missouri River on May 25 and rejoined Quantrill in Jackson County.
The men from the 25th Missouri Infantry who had been lying in wait for the guerrillas on May 19 were most likely in position on the Fishing River while the guerrillas, miles away, ambushed Sessions, Grafenstein, Rapp and the other two men closer to Missouri City.
The leader of the guerrilla ambush, Lt. Fernando Scott, a saddle maker from Liberty, would be dead within the month.
Survivor reports from the Union men stated that Scott was ferocious in the assault on Sessions, Grafenstein and Rapp. James writer and founder of the Kansas City Times, John Newman Edwards, described Scott in his book, "Noted Guerrillas, " that Scott was of a highly nervous disposition, sensitive and slept very little. Edwards said Scott never showed emotion or physical fear and that while under fire, Scott was cool as a cucumber. However, he also said that Scott was greatly admired by his men, gentle, rarely spoke harshly, was tender-hearted and scarcely killed anyone unless in open battle.
However, just less than a month after the ambush on Missouri City, Scott was sitting on his horse, one mile away from the fighting at Westport (now in Kansas City limits) on June 17, 1863, when a bullet from an Enfield rifle shot him through the heart, killing him instantly.
According to the Union report of the Missouri City ambush, the guerrillas attacked Sessions' group around 7:30 p.m. on the night of May 19 – a mere 90 minutes before the scheduled 9 p.m. ambush on the guerrillas by the Federals.
The Union report of the ambush was grisly. It states that Sessions and Rapp fell first from the ambush, followed by Grafenstein, then the men were rushed by the bushwhackers. Rapp was robbed and left for dead. Sessions, after pleading with Vandiver to stop shooting, was shot two- or three-times through the head. Grafenstein surrendered after his first shot, but was then shot cooly through the head two more times. Both men were stripped and robbed.
The arrest and jailing of 20-year-old Lou McCoy had been avenged.
Despite the Union occupation of Missouri City, most of the residents in and around the town were southern sympathizers, whether they had signed a loyalty oath or not, thus were not forthcoming with providing information to Union officers investigating the events of May 19.
Within a few days of the bloody ambush on Missouri City, Frank James' family would feel the repercussions. Fifteen year old Jesse would be beaten, his stepfather hung as a form of torture. The worse was yet to come.
Friday, August 2, 2013
An outrage against women – the Civil War and women in Missouri, Part II
Just outside Missouri City, May 14, 1863: Lurena "Lou" McCoy, the 20-year-old wife of Confederate Officer, Moses McCoy, spent the night packing up her belongings after Union soldiers came to her home threatening to arrest her if she didn't tell them were her husband was. She knew it was inevitable that the soldiers would return for her.
She had to be terrified, but she was alone. Her husband was off to war, her parents lived several miles away and she had no choice but to leave. She planned to send her 18-month-old baby, 5-year-old stepson and her 10-year-old brother to her mother's house, but before she could gather everything up, the soldiers returned the next morning, May 15, and placed her under arrest.
"The pretext for arresting me was that my husband had been seen in the neighborhood and I must tell where he was or go to prison. Just a few days before, he seized the gray uniform Captain McCoy and others had come in as recruiting officers, and to see their families. When they came to our house seeking him, Captain McCoy and his recruits were already across the river on their way south," recalled Lou in her 1912 articles for Confederate Veteran Magazine.
"I aided the Confederates all I could," she added. "I always helped a Confederate boy to secure an outfit for the army. For this I was closely watched by the Federals, who had detectives and spies out all the time. But I gave aid to everyone that came to me. I fed them and had uniforms made for them when they were preparing for the service. My efforts on behalf of the southern boys made the Federals suspect me as working for their deliverance."
She was probably right.
Lou recalled the alleged escape of Confederate prisoners from the jail in Liberty, Mo., due to a jail door being found wide open and the prisoners gone. This happened shortly before she was arrested and it is believed, though never proven, that the prisoner or one of the prisoner's who escaped was Frank James.
"The men had been arrested and jailed as spies, to be tried by court-martial and executed or sent to some dungeon. Having no clew (sic) to the mystery, they conjectured that it must be Mrs. McCoy, and accordingly laid it to my charge, alleging that I had taken an impression of the keyhole in wax and had the key made for opening the door for the captives."
Lou added that one of her "real [not alleged] offenses was the cause of the guerrillas coming to Missouri City to avenge her honor. the offense was that she had a gray suit made for a Confederate soldier who was preparing to leave for the army. Captain Darius Sessions, mayor of Missouri City and an officer in the militia, found the suit and took possession of it – then had her arrested.
On the morning of May 15, 1863, Lou was nearly ready to leave her home with the children and might have escaped the soldiers had she been a few hours earlier in her departure. However, that was not to be. She found a force of armed men at her door.
"Consider yourself under arrest!" shouted the officer in charge. Lou said the soldiers would not even allow her to change her dress before forcing her to leave with them. Her 10-year-old brother, Matt, took Lou's infant and stepson to his mother's home a few miles to the east.
Lou asked what the charges were and the Lieutenant replied, "You are charged with having furnished food, shelter and clothing to Rebel soldiers. If true, you will be held a prisoner until you take an oath of allegiance."
As the men left the property with Lou in tow, they passed through Missouri City. A friend, one Mrs. Adams, ran out of a house and said, "I hope you are not a prisoner." Lou replied, "Yes, I am." Mrs. Adams then said, "Never mind. There will be a hereafter to this."
It was to be an eerie prediction as blood would be shed for the arrest of Lou McCoy and further repercussions would take place at the James Farm, ultimately leading Jesse into joining the guerrillas and the James family suffering long-lasting consequences.
After Mrs. Adam's statement, one of the soldiers threatened her, "You had better keep your lip or we will get you and some more like you."
One can just imagine this terse exchange of verbal assaults as the wagon, horses, soldiers and Lou traveled down a dusty road out of town. Mrs. Adams was brave enough to shout after the men and probably felt her stomach drop when the soldier threatened her too.
It is believed that the mouthy soldier was one Lt. Louis Grafenstein, who had just been sent from the Liberty Arsenal to hunt for guerrillas in the area.
Despite the separation from her children and her own arrest, and the unknown of what would happen to her, Lou appears to have remained fearless.
There are historical reports of women being arrested in Lexington, Mo., during the war for aiding and abetting the Confederates and Rebels, and they were sent to prisons in St. Louis that were deplorable in their conditions. Not much of a distinction was made for the fact that these were women prisoners – those of the fairer sex, as women were normally treated in this day and age. Lou's mind must have been filled with all sorts of horrifying images and fear of what lay ahead for her as the wagon plodded on toward Liberty.
How would she get word to her husband? What about her young children? Her farm? What would become of her? Would she be tortured, raped, executed?
Lou never tells how she handled things or how she felt. Nevertheless, she survived and was 69 when she wrote the two articles for Confederate Veteran Magazine. By all appearances, she had a perfect memory of the events of May 1863.
Once the soldiers and Lou arrived at the Liberty Arsenal, which overlooked the Missouri River – she learned that a steamboat awaited to take her upriver to St. Joseph.
"When we arrived there, I was taken before Colonel Hardy, who read the charges and asked if true. I said, 'True.' Then he produced the iron-clad oath (of allegiance to the Union), which forbade me ever to exchange letters with husband, brother, etc., or to give food, shelter or clothing to any Confederate soldier. I said, 'If you mark out two of the items, I will take it,'" recalled Lou in 1912.
Hardy replied, "'Not one,' and I replied, 'I will not take it.'"
So, Hardy ordered Lou to be escorted to Captain Dunn and that he was to take care of her until he received further orders.
This entire incident was apparently big news as an article in the Liberty Tribune described Lou as a snake.
"A she adder, a Rebel damsel, arrested and brought before Colonel Hardy! ... She stoutly refused to take the oath of allegiance unless part of it was marked out. She is now held as a prisoner of war."
Despite her own fears, Lou relied on her young charms to work their magic on Captain Dunn. She asked Dunn's little girl to walk with her to the cemetery. The girl asked permission of her mother, who told Lou that she could not leave the yard.
It seems Lou was not held in a prison that was as horrific in conditions as others around the state. She had been taken to stay with a Union officer's family.
Lou decided to toss her charms back to Colonel Hardy and said "shame on you" for treating me thus. I'm sure she batted her eyes and may have even asked what harm could she cause ...
Lou's sweet talk worked, for Colonel Hardy said, "I will let you have the limits of the city on parole of honor."
Lou kept her word and found her way to the other Confederate women being held in the vicinity and kept their company for the next four days, until Hardy sent for her again in an attempt to get her to sign the oath of allegiance.
Lou refused again for the following three days, when on the third day, she finally found the oath changed to the verbiage she wanted and signed it. "On the afternoon of the third day, a message came for me to report to the colonel's office. When I went, he offered me a mild, light oath and I took it."
Lou was then sent to a Major Bassett's office for her release papers, though once there, she learned she was being exchanged for one of the Union's provost marshals who had been captured and was being held by Quantrill.
I do not know what Lou McCoy looked like. She was young and already a mother. She was living through some of America's most bloody and terrible times. She was tenacious and fearless – at least she didn't let her fear show. She had all the attributes one thinks of in a pioneer woman – strong, brave, outspoken, hard-working and fearless. She was a survivor.
The men who had dared to have Lou arrested, Darius Sessions and Louis Grafenstein – they would not be so lucky.
She had to be terrified, but she was alone. Her husband was off to war, her parents lived several miles away and she had no choice but to leave. She planned to send her 18-month-old baby, 5-year-old stepson and her 10-year-old brother to her mother's house, but before she could gather everything up, the soldiers returned the next morning, May 15, and placed her under arrest.
"The pretext for arresting me was that my husband had been seen in the neighborhood and I must tell where he was or go to prison. Just a few days before, he seized the gray uniform Captain McCoy and others had come in as recruiting officers, and to see their families. When they came to our house seeking him, Captain McCoy and his recruits were already across the river on their way south," recalled Lou in her 1912 articles for Confederate Veteran Magazine.
"I aided the Confederates all I could," she added. "I always helped a Confederate boy to secure an outfit for the army. For this I was closely watched by the Federals, who had detectives and spies out all the time. But I gave aid to everyone that came to me. I fed them and had uniforms made for them when they were preparing for the service. My efforts on behalf of the southern boys made the Federals suspect me as working for their deliverance."
She was probably right.
Lou recalled the alleged escape of Confederate prisoners from the jail in Liberty, Mo., due to a jail door being found wide open and the prisoners gone. This happened shortly before she was arrested and it is believed, though never proven, that the prisoner or one of the prisoner's who escaped was Frank James.
"The men had been arrested and jailed as spies, to be tried by court-martial and executed or sent to some dungeon. Having no clew (sic) to the mystery, they conjectured that it must be Mrs. McCoy, and accordingly laid it to my charge, alleging that I had taken an impression of the keyhole in wax and had the key made for opening the door for the captives."
Lou added that one of her "real [not alleged] offenses was the cause of the guerrillas coming to Missouri City to avenge her honor. the offense was that she had a gray suit made for a Confederate soldier who was preparing to leave for the army. Captain Darius Sessions, mayor of Missouri City and an officer in the militia, found the suit and took possession of it – then had her arrested.
On the morning of May 15, 1863, Lou was nearly ready to leave her home with the children and might have escaped the soldiers had she been a few hours earlier in her departure. However, that was not to be. She found a force of armed men at her door.
"Consider yourself under arrest!" shouted the officer in charge. Lou said the soldiers would not even allow her to change her dress before forcing her to leave with them. Her 10-year-old brother, Matt, took Lou's infant and stepson to his mother's home a few miles to the east.
Lou asked what the charges were and the Lieutenant replied, "You are charged with having furnished food, shelter and clothing to Rebel soldiers. If true, you will be held a prisoner until you take an oath of allegiance."
As the men left the property with Lou in tow, they passed through Missouri City. A friend, one Mrs. Adams, ran out of a house and said, "I hope you are not a prisoner." Lou replied, "Yes, I am." Mrs. Adams then said, "Never mind. There will be a hereafter to this."
It was to be an eerie prediction as blood would be shed for the arrest of Lou McCoy and further repercussions would take place at the James Farm, ultimately leading Jesse into joining the guerrillas and the James family suffering long-lasting consequences.
After Mrs. Adam's statement, one of the soldiers threatened her, "You had better keep your lip or we will get you and some more like you."
One can just imagine this terse exchange of verbal assaults as the wagon, horses, soldiers and Lou traveled down a dusty road out of town. Mrs. Adams was brave enough to shout after the men and probably felt her stomach drop when the soldier threatened her too.
It is believed that the mouthy soldier was one Lt. Louis Grafenstein, who had just been sent from the Liberty Arsenal to hunt for guerrillas in the area.
Despite the separation from her children and her own arrest, and the unknown of what would happen to her, Lou appears to have remained fearless.
There are historical reports of women being arrested in Lexington, Mo., during the war for aiding and abetting the Confederates and Rebels, and they were sent to prisons in St. Louis that were deplorable in their conditions. Not much of a distinction was made for the fact that these were women prisoners – those of the fairer sex, as women were normally treated in this day and age. Lou's mind must have been filled with all sorts of horrifying images and fear of what lay ahead for her as the wagon plodded on toward Liberty.
How would she get word to her husband? What about her young children? Her farm? What would become of her? Would she be tortured, raped, executed?
Lou never tells how she handled things or how she felt. Nevertheless, she survived and was 69 when she wrote the two articles for Confederate Veteran Magazine. By all appearances, she had a perfect memory of the events of May 1863.
Once the soldiers and Lou arrived at the Liberty Arsenal, which overlooked the Missouri River – she learned that a steamboat awaited to take her upriver to St. Joseph.
 |
| Top: The Liberty Arsenal as it was during the Civil War. Below, is an historic marker denoting the approximate location of the arsenal – now nothing remains of the arsenal, which sat over looking the Missouri River. |
"When we arrived there, I was taken before Colonel Hardy, who read the charges and asked if true. I said, 'True.' Then he produced the iron-clad oath (of allegiance to the Union), which forbade me ever to exchange letters with husband, brother, etc., or to give food, shelter or clothing to any Confederate soldier. I said, 'If you mark out two of the items, I will take it,'" recalled Lou in 1912.
Hardy replied, "'Not one,' and I replied, 'I will not take it.'"
So, Hardy ordered Lou to be escorted to Captain Dunn and that he was to take care of her until he received further orders.
This entire incident was apparently big news as an article in the Liberty Tribune described Lou as a snake.
"A she adder, a Rebel damsel, arrested and brought before Colonel Hardy! ... She stoutly refused to take the oath of allegiance unless part of it was marked out. She is now held as a prisoner of war."
Despite her own fears, Lou relied on her young charms to work their magic on Captain Dunn. She asked Dunn's little girl to walk with her to the cemetery. The girl asked permission of her mother, who told Lou that she could not leave the yard.
It seems Lou was not held in a prison that was as horrific in conditions as others around the state. She had been taken to stay with a Union officer's family.
Lou decided to toss her charms back to Colonel Hardy and said "shame on you" for treating me thus. I'm sure she batted her eyes and may have even asked what harm could she cause ...
Lou's sweet talk worked, for Colonel Hardy said, "I will let you have the limits of the city on parole of honor."
Lou kept her word and found her way to the other Confederate women being held in the vicinity and kept their company for the next four days, until Hardy sent for her again in an attempt to get her to sign the oath of allegiance.
Lou refused again for the following three days, when on the third day, she finally found the oath changed to the verbiage she wanted and signed it. "On the afternoon of the third day, a message came for me to report to the colonel's office. When I went, he offered me a mild, light oath and I took it."
Lou was then sent to a Major Bassett's office for her release papers, though once there, she learned she was being exchanged for one of the Union's provost marshals who had been captured and was being held by Quantrill.
I do not know what Lou McCoy looked like. She was young and already a mother. She was living through some of America's most bloody and terrible times. She was tenacious and fearless – at least she didn't let her fear show. She had all the attributes one thinks of in a pioneer woman – strong, brave, outspoken, hard-working and fearless. She was a survivor.
The men who had dared to have Lou arrested, Darius Sessions and Louis Grafenstein – they would not be so lucky.
Thursday, August 1, 2013
An outrage against women – the Civil War and women in Missouri, Part I
Today, 148 years after the Civil War ended, it's hard for anyone to comprehend what life was like in the mid-1800s – even if you live in the area I am writing about known as Little Dixie in Missouri.
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.
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 ...
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.
 |
| 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 ...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)