Abraham Lincoln Signature Sighting

A couple weeks ago, I learned that the Preliminary Emancipation Proclamation was in town.  Being a HUGE Abraham Lincoln fan (in a nutshell: I think he was the most forward-thinking President in American history, and was incredibly brave in following what he believed was right rather than what was popular), I had to see it.  It was part of an exhibit called ""The First Step to Freedom: Abraham Lincoln's Preliminary Emancipation Proclamation," which also happened to display Martin Luther King Jr's Centennial Address.  What more could a historian want? 

(The documents were housed in glass cases, and there were lights directly above them, so please excuse the poor photography).

As we waited in line, we read facts about the documents we were about to see.  The Preliminary Emancipation Proclamation was issued in September 1862, after the Union's victory in the battle of Antietam, and it ordered that in 100 days, the federal government would deem all slaves free in the Confederate states.  The entire document was written by Abraham Lincoln.  In fact, there is even a fingerprint on one page of the document, which is said to be Lincoln's.

page 1, in Lincoln's handwriting!

Here's a photo of the page bearing the fingerprint that is believed to be Lincoln's (I obviously added the red circle):

As for the type-written language you see above Lincoln's fingerprint, it is thought that Lincoln probably glued this language (which is from the Congressional Confiscation Act) onto his Proclamation in order to save time. 

As for the signature that I was especially excited to see, here it is:

I am going to write a separate blog post covering MLK's Centennial speech. 

What Would You Ask Eleanor Roosevelt If Given the Chance?

My latest project involves the World War II era--particularly what was going on at the home front.  It seems to me that the battles of the war have been studied to no end, but not a lot has been written on the home front and all of the incredible organizations that were developed by those left at home--principally women.

In order to do justice to the subject, I thought it would be important and interesting to submerge myself into that time period by reading periodicals and books actually reporting on the war (I even purchased a cd with old radio programs from WWII, which have been interesting in a propaganda-ish sort of way).
Thus, my weekends and weeknights have been spent reading periodicals and books from the 1940s.  Perhaps through serendipity, my parents happened to have a TON of National Geographic magazines from the 1939-1944 period, so I have been working my way through them (the ones on the right have been read, the ones on the left will be):

I love the picture below-- women delighted to volunteer for the Red Cross, and a group of enlisted men far from home and very happy to see them.  These Red Cross volunteers had just arrived in Britain at the time this photo was taken.

Besides National Geographics, I've been buying magazines at some of the flea markets near my apartment.  I bought a few Reader's Digests from the 1940s, which give a nice sampling of magazine articles, books, and all manner of reading material that was published during that time.

The red Reader's Digest on the bottom right has one of Eleanor Roosevelt's columns, "If You Ask Me," which I thought would have been pretty interesting.  But, then I read the first question: "Does your husband notice a new dress or hat when you wear one, or is he like so many other men who never see a wife's new clothes?"

If you must know the answer, Eleanor responded: "I think my husband is too preoccupied, usually, to notice my clothes, but sometimes he will look up and say he likes something I have been wearing for two or three years!"

Another question: "Do you think women have as much sense of humor as men?"

I don't understand why anyone would ask the First Lady such questions.  But, it does seem that my magazine reading is paying off, since I am able to see what a different time it was, and be able to incorporate that into my writing.

A final source that I have been working through is this box of 200+ letters, between a husband and wife, who had lived in Staten Island, New York, before the husband was drafted into the air force:

During World War II, there was concern that letters could fall into enemy hands, so letters from servicemen were censored.  This is apparent, as the husband's letters include few details about his experience, where he was (he could say what country, but that's about it), or what he was doing (or how much danger he was in).  But, his letters are really heartwarming, and you can feel how much he loved his wife and son and how much he missed them by reading his words.  To give you an example, here are a couple excerpts that you can read:

It reads:  Betty Darling a short letter to let you know I am well and thinking of you and Vic and to keep you from worrying too much about me.  I hope this letter finds you both in the best of health and happy.

The end of the letter:

It reads:

Betty Dear I see you so many times in my dreams waiting at the door for me to come home for dinner or supper as you used to, or waiting in the sunlight on the porch to get that last goodbye wave in when I was leaving for work.  Honey when those days return that will be heaven enough for me. 

So Sweets with all the love and kisses to you and Vic I will say so long till my next letter.

Your Loving Husband Always,
Vic

Friday's Photo: Fun With Crosswalks

The latest rage in Manhattan--crosswalks with a message.  They're not just stripes anymore....

A substantive post is coming this weekend, so stay tuned!

The Best Tribute

Simple and poignant.  

Lying About Dylan

In case you didn't hear about the latest literary fraud, last week, Jonah Lehrer admitted that he had invented quotes that he attributed to Bob Dylan in his book Imagine: How Creativity Works  Until this literary mischief, he seemed to have a lot going for him--he's a Rhodes scholar, a neuroscientist, and was a staff writer for "The New Yorker."  For whatever reason, he decided his book wouldn't be good enough with manufacturing the quotes he wanted Dylan to have said.

Now, he's resigned from "The New Yorker" and has issued a public apology.  According to the New York Times, Lehrer stated "The lies are over now. . . .  I understand the gravity of my position.  I want to apologize to everyone I have let down, especially my editors and readers."  In my opinion, he should have stopped there.  However, he added: "I will do my best to correct the record and ensure that my misquotations and mistakes are fixed."  Really?  Misquotations?  He makes it sound like he made an innocent mistake, as if the whole thing were a misunderstanding or an innocent accident.

The man who exposed the fraud was a Dylan aficionado, Michael Moynihan; he read Imagine, searched for the source of one of Lehrer's Dylan quotes, and after Lehrer responded to Moynihan's inquiries with several lies, Lehrer ultimately confessed "that he had made it up."  According to Moynihan, "Lehrer had spliced together Dylan quotes from separate published interviews, [and] when the quotes were accurate, he took them well out of context."  Sounds intentional, not a case of mere "misquotation."

An apology from a hoaxer doesn't seem to cut it these days.  Already, Lehrer's publisher, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, has announced that it would recall printed copies of Imagine.  If this hoax becomes anything like James Frey's, it wouldn't be surprising if it results in the issuance of refunds to readers who had bought Imagine thinking if was non-fiction, only to find it was not all it is supposed to be.

It will be interesting to see how this pans out.  His book sales are likely to dwindle (people tend to be less interested in reading non-fiction when it actually isn't true), and it is unclear if he will be able to salvage his writing career.  

The tradition of the literary hoax is alive and well.  And once again, a hoaxer has fooled his publisher, reviewers, and readers before the hoax was revealed.

Works consulted:
"Jonah Lehrer Resigned From New Yorker After Making Up Dylan Quotes for His Book," by Julie Bosman, New York Times, July 30, 2012 (appearing on Media Decoder Blog).

"Due Diligence on Dylan: Writer Found Fraud in First Chapter," by Christine Kearney, Chicago Tribune, Aug. 1, 2012.

Friday's Photo

I want to try something new for the blog.  Every Friday (or so), I'll post a photo (or more) with little explanation, of something from my daily life.  This week, the Freedom Tower.  I work about 2 blocks from it and have watched it go up slowly for the last couple years. 

Proof is in the Proofing

A few people have asked why the blog has been so quiet, and the main reason is I am in the midst of reviewing the proofs of my book.  This is my last opportunity to make ANY changes before it is actually printed.  The view I've had for much of today has looked something like this:



I like making handwritten edits, so I've printed the book out, and placed it in a binder to keep things orderly.  It's been hard staying focused on editing it instead of just reading it--I keep getting into the story and stop focusing on catching any errors, but things are moving along.  And I think that's all I am going to say about "proofing" for now, since it isn't exactly edge-of-your-seat blogging material.

In related (book) news, the University of Alabama Press has printed its Fall 2012 catalog.  Pretty snazzy cover, eh?

I was excited to find that my book is on page 4:



The Press has a lot of interesting books coming out over the next few months.  I added a bunch to my "books to read" list (the full catalog is available on the Press' website, click here).  For now, though, I better get back to my proofs.

Have a great week!

The Missing Piece

After a month and a half of periodically crawling on the floor, re-checking whether a small piece of wood fell between couch cushions, and refusing to vacuum my apartment out of fear of inadvertently losing a piece of history forever, I have finally retrieved the missing piece to the first jigsaw puzzle made in the United States.

My mother miraculously found this small piece even though I told her it was orange (the only other copy of the puzzle I had found showed an orange Schenectady, see here, but it seems the prototype of the puzzle and the one actually made for sale assigned different colors to many of the puzzle pieces).  My Schenectady piece is green.

Here's the puzzle before the missing piece:

And after:

Just looking at it makes me sigh in relief that it is finally complete!

In anticipation of my trip to upstate New York to visit my family and secure Schenectady, I researched my ancestor, Samuel McCleary, to learn more about who he was.  If I were to try to sum him up, I'd say he was an inquisitive and clever man, who was curious and loved making things.  He moved from one profession to another--perhaps searching for one that suited him best, or merely moving on to a new profession after mastering his last. 

In 1850, he identified himself as a "farmer" for purposes of census records, but it was the year before that he commenced his puzzlemaking undertaking.  Interestingly, his partner in his jigsaw venture, John Pierce, may have been a boarder and laborer on Samuel's farm, for the census records show that a "John Pearce" lived with the McCleary family and his profession was recorded as "laborer."  

The upper left hand corner of the puzzle notes it was created by "McCleary & Pierce"

In any event, Samuel McCleary's first invention, his "Dissecting Map of the State of New York" puzzle (with which you are probably well familiar by now), was actually the very first jigsaw puzzle made in the United States.  Not only did he create the puzzle, but he also invented a new method of cutting jigsaw puzzle pieces.  In the 1840s and 1850s (and beyond), jigsaws were massively popular.  They were first invented in 1760 as an educational tool, and were particularly popular in England.  But, their popularity spread quickly and the familiar pieces were soon scattered across parlors throughout Europe.  Since many who lived in the United States had some connection to England and Europe, puzzles naturally made their way across the Atlantic and were imported into the United States during the early 1800s.  McCleary's was the first jigsaw to be invented and manufactured in the United States, and he set off a wave of American jigsaw makers.  In addition to producing the first American jigsaw puzzle, he also patented his own die-cast method of cutting the pieces in 1849.  Click here to see the patent.

McCleary went on to create a second puzzle, which he also patented.  This second game involved a series of wooden blocks with numbers written on them, which could be assembled so that each row--horizontal, vertical, and diagonal--would add up to the same sum.  I don't think he ever produced this puzzle, but, the idea was patented almost 130 years ago, so it is possible they are out there, but few have survived over the years.  Click here to see the patent. 

It seems McCleary didn't settle on any particular trade.  He went from farmer to puzzle maker to shoemaker to tanner.  As he grew older, he and his wife moved in with their son, Edward McCleary (the Civil War veteran I featured on the blog during the week leading to Memorial Day), and it seems Samuel either delighted or tortured Edward's children with his educational games.  One of my favorite McCleary family relics is this map of New York State, drawn by Edward's daughter, Jennie.  As you can see, she drew each county of New York and labeled them, apparently modeling her map after her grandfather's puzzle:

Jennie McCleary's drawing of the counties of New York State, which appears to be modeled after her grandfather's puzzle

Samuel McCleary went on to live into his late 80s.  In fact, in a letter Edward wrote to a family friend in July 1895, he noted that his father lived with him for nine months out of the year and there was "no need to inquire about his health he is past-88 and a Dynamite Bomb would take no effect on him."  In November 1895, however, Samuel McCleary suddenly passed away after suffering lung problems.  He was buried near his family, in Albany, New York.

While the creation of the first jigsaw puzzle in the United States may pale in comparison to many of the other incredible things that have been invented and produced in America, the jigsaw has proven to be a classic game for all ages.  Even 160 years after the first one was made here, the simple pleasure of an afternoon spent piecing together a puzzle continues to be a favorite pastime for many.

For more information about jigsaws, a great source which I used for some of the background information in this post is Linda Hannas' The Jigsaw Book (which happens to mention that Samuel McCleary and John Pierce created the first American-made jigsaw puzzle).

Puzzle Me This

A few months ago, my mother came to visit me in New York City and she brought a bag with a few old things she thought might interest me.  Several days passed before I gave the bag a second look.  But, one night, feeling bored and a little curious, I discovered this among other things:

Thanks to the Civil War letters, I was familiar with Edward McCleary, so it seemed likely that Samuel McCleary was a relation (and a second look at the letters showed that Samuel was Edward's father).  As it was bound by string, it seemed something must have been inside of it.  But what?  It is only about 1/4 or 1/2 an inch wide and made of wood.  I looked to the back of it to see if it gave any clues, and this is what it looked like:



A Table of Explanations, Showing Distances Between Major Cities in New York State


Moving it, a few pieces of wood fell from it, and when I untied the string, I realized I had a puzzle on my hands.  A puzzle of New York State and all of its counties.  Since I have lived in New York for my entire life, I thought I might as well try to put the thing together and see if I had all of the pieces.  But, New York is a tricky state, with counties that are ridiculously small (and several of them were barely familiar to me).  I went to work, but the puzzle was harder than I thought.  Maybe 45 minutes or so into trying to put it together, I finally caved in and googled a map of the counties of NYS, and ultimately I got the whole thing together.  Well, almost.




I was missing Schenectady.  I wondered if the missing piece was the type of thing I could find on ebay, so I turned to the computer to do a little investigating and I found out that there does not appear to be another puzzle exactly like the one I have.  You see, Samuel McCleary was actually one of the first jigsaw puzzle makers in the United States.  What I had before me appeared to be his prototype.  Samuel McCleary partnered with John Pierce to create McCleary & Pierce, and they patented in 1849 a special diecast method of cutting jigsaw puzzle pieces.  The puzzle was created in 1850, winning the acclaim of esteemed educator Emma Willard, as well as the Governor of New York State.



The Puzzle Was Recommended by Many Influential Persons

 The only other copy of this puzzle I have been able to find online has a different cover than mine, and the puzzle pieces are different colors.  (To see the collector's copy, click here)  As for the cover, rather than advertising that all inquiries about the puzzle were to be made to Samuel McCleary (like my copy), the cover of the collector's copy reads: "Dissecting Map of the State of New York."  So, as far as I can tell, the copy of the puzzle that I have is most likely the first one made.  Pretty amazing.



Schenectady, the Missing Piece

But, what about the missing piece?  After my time-consuming attempt to put the puzzle together, plus my time researching what it was and its significance, it was past 11pm, and so I decided NOT to call my mother to ask if she had any idea where Schenectady (the puzzle piece) might be.  I told my husband that we could not vacuum or otherwise clean our floors until Schenectady was found.  We may have crept around the floor (on more than one occasion) to be sure that the missing piece--no bigger than a pea--had not fallen out of the bag that my mother had carried it in.  We searched everywhere, but, alas, Schenectady was not to be found in our apartment.

The next day, waiting until the civilized hour of 7am, I called my mother, frantic, asking whether she could check to see if Schenectady had somehow been left where she had found the rest of the puzzle, or if she could otherwise search everywhere for the missing piece.  Unfortunately, it was too late.  She said that she had vacuumed the closet where she had found the puzzle, and she didn't know where else the piece would be (note: cleanliness can be overrated, especially when looking for very small things).  I was crushed.  As a lover of history, holding in my hands something so old and significant as perhaps the first jigsaw puzzle made in the United States, I felt that the whole puzzle needed to be preserved.  Including Schenectady.

I told my mother all about the history of the puzzle, and she was very excited and promised to be on the lookout for an orange triangular piece of wood, but the search seemed futile. 

About one and one-half months later, on my mother's birthday no less, she called my cell phone and left a message (I was at work).  I figured she had called to thank me for the card I had sent, but when I listened to her voicemail, I could hardly believe what she had said.  She had found Schenectady!  When she first found the puzzle, it had been inside of a cardboard box.  By the time she gave it to me, she had no idea what had come of that box.  But, on that fateful birthday morning, she was putting a few things in a box to give to my sister when she caught a glimmer of a little orange piece of wood on the bottom!  Schenectady!  The puzzle would be complete!  And this amazing piece of history will soon be intact (considering what we have been through searching for it, with the vacuuming moratoriums and countless phone calls pining away over a 1/4 inch piece of wood, it's not like she could just mail it to me--this is the type of thing that can only be delivered in person).

I am planning to visit my parents sometime this month, and when I do, my mother has promised to hand over one of the smallest counties in New York State (thanks to the puzzle, I know such NYS county trivia) so the whole puzzle can be together again.  So, for now, I leave you with a final picture of the incomplete puzzle.  The gaping whole is, of course, Schenectady.

If you'd like to see more pictures, which can be made much larger, please visit my website by clicking here.


(I found that there are actually t-shirts for sale with a picture of Samuel McCleary's & John Pierce's Dissecting Map of the State of New York.  My mother received a belated birthday present of this t-shirt--after all, we were basically obsessed with finding the missing piece for over a month and sort of bonded with the puzzle in the process.  The t-shirt is available here).

What My Book Is About in 60 Seconds or Less

Here's a short preview of my book.  Enjoy!

I decided to try to create a short video giving the basic premise of my book, The Myth of Ephraim Tutt, in a highly dramatic fashion.  It only scratches the surface of what it's all about, but if you want to check it out, just click the video link above.

Have a great weekend!

The Sad Fate of Libraries

[My favorite New York City Public Library Branch-- Jefferson Market]

As a writer, researcher, and reader, I have been troubled by the recent headlines about the proposed cuts to funding for the New York City Library system.  In New York City, $43 million is to be slashed from the library's budget--which will result in the loss of some truly important community services that only the library offers.  Free classes to help people find jobs and gain computer skills will cease.  The quantity of books and DVDs will be cut by one-third.  Staff cuts will result in slower service and fewer jobs in an already difficult employment market.  And twelve libraries may close altogether.  Of the libraries that survive, their doors will no longer be open six days per week; they will be open for only four.  New York City is not alone--financial woes are threatening libraries across the United States. 

Making it more inconvenient for people to use public libraries is tragic.  For some people, the library may be the only place where they have access to computers.  For voracious readers, the library helps keep a healthy reading habit affordable.  For most anyone, it offers the chance to broaden one's horizons, discover new things, and better oneself. 

I recently read Andrew Carnegie's autobiography, and was surprised at how great a role a single library played in his ultimate success in life.  Growing up in poverty, Carnegie was forced to stop attending school when he was 13, and took up a job as a bobbin boy in a Pittsburgh factory, making $1.20 per week.  From there, he operated a furnace for $2 per week, and rose to the position of being a clerk thanks to his ability to write and calculate numbers.  From a clerk, he became a messenger for the nearby telegraph company--a job that allowed Carnegie "to really get started in life."  Surrounded by newspapers and the business of the world, Carnegie was learning constantly. 

Most importantly, however, was the announcement by Colonel James Anderson that he would open his private library (of 400 books) to "the boys" working in the telegraph office.  These young men were allowed to take a book each Saturday and exchange it for another one the following Saturday.  Carnegie took full advantage of this offer, reading constantly to improve his mind.  Later in life, Carnegie still felt such gratitude for Colonel Anderson's generosity with his books that Carnegie was inspired to donate millions of dollars to open public libraries so that all who wished to read and improve themselves would be enabled to do so.  Thanks to a donation of over $5 million to the New York City Public Library system, 68 new libraries were built, with an additional 20 libraries built in Brooklyn.  In the end, Carnegie was responsible for the creation of over 2,500 public libraries.  I was pretty happy to discover my local library is just one of his gifts.

Libraries are extremely important, and while some funding cuts may be necessary, closing locations, reducing the number of books available, and cutting the hours that libraries are open are only going to lead to fewer people being able to use libraries.  Who knows how many Andrew Carnegies are out there who stand to benefit immensely from gaining free access books.  I hope a way is found to keep libraries functioning and accessible to the public without reducing their funds so drastically.  I have written to my local public officials voicing my concerns.  If you are a New Yorker, you can also do so by clicking here and then clicking on "help protect NYPL."

Read on!

The Bullet After the Battlefield

This is the final installment of my four-part series on Edward McCleary's Civil War experience.  If you need to catch-up on the story, part one is here, part two is here, and part three is here.

[Edward McCleary, First Lieutenant, Seventh Regiment, Union Army]

After McCleary was mustered out of the Union Army, he returned home--to upstate New York, to a small town called Watervliet Centre (now Colonie).  While his life carried on as many do-- he married, had children, cared for his aging parents, and worked to support his family-- the Civil War continued to play a role in his life.  The friendships he made in his Regiment and on the battlefields did not dissolve with the Army--though distance may have separated them, their shared sacrifice bonded them for life. 

Piecing together what happened to McCleary after 1865 is difficult.  He was no longer writing letters to his home explaining what was happening to him and how he felt.  However, he attended the 20-year reunion for his Regiment--the New York State Volunteer Heavy Artillery, Seventh Regiment, where he received the honorary medal below.  This reunion was held in 1885.

Amazingly, despite all he had gone through, McCleary lived into the next century (it's amazing since he was probably in his early 20s when he fought in the 1860s, and considering he was shot in three places, left for dead in a field where he laid wounded for over 24 hours, and received medical care that was likely inadequate--that he lived well into his 70s is incredible).  Thanks to a series of letters that were preserved from the 1890s and 1900s, it is possible to formulate an idea of what McCleary's life was like during his later years.

In July 1895, McCleary wrote a long letter to an old friend of his.  He noted that his father lived with him for nine months out of the year and there was "no need to inquire about his health he is past-88 and a Dynamite Bomb would take no effect on him."  He also noted that he had "two girls married nearby each one has a little granddaughter for me to buy Christmas presents for.  My third girl taught school last winter--about 3 miles from home--so you know I have got to be one of the old fellows now.  And to tell the truth I am about done up-- the Malaria and Grip together have flattened me out so completely that I am of no earthly use except as an ornament."

McClearly recovered fully from his health problems, and the next remarkable episode in his life involved a nagging pain he noticed around 1901 that caused great discomfort in his thigh.  He went to a doctor who recommended that x-rays be taken.  The x-rays revealed that a bullet remained in McCleary's body--38 years after he was originally shot.  Apparently, the doctors at Libby Prison had believed that the bullet that had entered McCleary's thigh had somehow traveled through his body and exited it.  However, the x-rays taken in 1902 proved otherwise.

McCleary's wife was away when a surgery was scheduled to remove the bullet.  Around the time of his surgery, one of his old Civil War buddies--Jacob Wiggins--died, and McCleary wrote to his wife that Wiggins had specifically chosen "4 old soldiers" to be his pall bearers before he passed on.  When McCleary arrived at his home after Wiggins's funeral, an old war friend of McCleary's--whose nickname was "Mali"--had showed up on McCleary's doorstep and he volunteered to go with McCleary to the hospital for his surgery.  McCleary told his wife that Mali "wants to go down and see the bullet cut out and see it by the x-rays," and would "nurse me up" afterwards.  McCleary added: "wish you were here to go with him."  (One theme apparent from all of the letters written to McCleary's wife is that he loved her dearly.  In fact, in one letter sent to her he noted "we thought we loved in 1863--we know more than love in 1900.").

The removal of the bullet from McCleary's body was important enough to make it into the newspaper.  (The hospital where the bullet was removed happens to be the same hospital where I was born.)  Here's the article telling the story:

The final artifact that I have of Edward McCleary's is the old bullet itself.  He had cut-out the story of its removal from the newspaper, wrapped the bullet with the newspaper excerpt, and put both into a small felt bag:

I will be thinking of Edward McCleary today.  I sincerely wish I could have met him, as I admire the sacrifice he made for the country and have grown so fond of him by reading his letters.  I have always loved studying the Civil War, and it has meant a great deal to me to discover that not only did I have a relative who fought on the side of the Union, but he volunteered to do so and even remained in the Army after he was gravely wounded and captured as a POW.  In honor of the men in his Regiment who were not lucky enough to have lived through the War, I am ending this post with a photo of the Memorial (located in Central Park in NYC) to those who served the Union in McCleary's Regiment--the Seventh--and lost their lives:

Captured, Hospitalized, and Stuck in Rebel Hands

Thanks for coming back to read the third installment in the story of one of my ancestor's experiences fighting in the Civil War.  If you are just joining in and want to read the first and second installments, the first is here; the second here.

We left off with Edward McCleary informing his parents that, despite being shot in his thigh, leg, and abdomen, and spending over twenty-four hours lying wounded in a field before he was captured as a POW, he was healing nicely and he expected a full recovery.  He was still housed in the notorious Libby Prison, where as many as 50 men died each day because of the poor conditions.  For McCleary, he mentioned that he went to sleep hungry many nights, but he did not otherwise hint at how awful his experience probably was.

After being captured by the Confederates on June 3, 1854, McCleary remained a prisoner at Libby until sometime around November 18, 1864, for in a letter bearing that date addressed to his sister, McCleary explains that he was transferred out of Libby, though he had not yet been "exchanged" and returned to his Regiment.

McCleary was moved to the U.S. General Hospital in Annapolis, Maryland, and when he wrote to his sister, he secured stationary that had a picture of the place he was staying, even placing a dot of ink on the building (the dot is in blue ink--do you see it?) that had become his temporary residence.

Just in case the ink dot is too hard to spot--here's another copy of the photo with McCleary's lodging highlighted:

McCleary provided a detailed description of his life in this hospital, so I will just let him do the talking:

... it is a perfect little Eden here the buildings you see are all Hospitals and I should judge they occupied about fifteen acres of ground all laid out with walks and shade trees.  We have a fine view down the Chesapeake Bay and plenty of white sails can be seen of all kinds of craft.  There is a lively band kept here which [plays] the sweetest music.  Each room contains four neat little beds, also a good coal fire which burns night and day.  Capt. Marsh occupies the room with me.  He is an old Vet and was with me in Libby.  I am not yet Exchanged and don't know when I shall be....

We have an Officer in the next room who is crazy.  He is Adjutant of the 11th Va.... and was with me in Libby.  He was badly wounded in the shoulder with a piece of shell and appeared to be a real intelligent and good-hearted man.  After he was paroled and sent here he learned that his Lady Love had proved false and married another man.  He is quite rational on other subjects but when he talks about that the poor fellow can't contain himself.  He has been religiously inclined and takes me in to all his private councils.  I would like to have you try an experiment just for the novelty and for his good also.  Write him a nice letter saying you learned his address through a friend and expressing your sympathy for him as one of our Country's brave defenders who had been suffering from wounds and imprisonment in behalf of our Nation's honor.  It might divert his mind and make him a man once more.

-------------------------------------------------

I don't know if McCleary's sister complied with McCleary's request to send a letter to his suffering friend, but it seems that McCleary--as is apparent from many of his letters--was always concerned about the well-being of the people around him and his family.

A few weeks later, McCleary was transferred again, this time to Camp Parole.  His spirits remained high, as this letter to his mother shows:

Camp Parole near Annapolis, MD
Dec. 4th, 1864

Dear Mother,

This is just such a Sunday morning as I could enjoy if I were at home.  The sun shines in through my window warm and bright and all the men in Camp are looking happy for they are just receiving 30 days furlough to visit their friends after being prisoners from 4 to 20 months....

I am getting along fine, enough to eat and enough to mess.  There is a rumor that we are exchanged but I don't believe it.  I was Officer of the Day yesterday and have command now of one Co. numbering 133 men.  They will all go home this week.

My Love to All and Write Soon,
EG McCleary

--------------------------------------

Chances are, rumors of exchange were common and so, although many of the men being housed with McCleary were being "exchanged"--which refers, I believe, to the Confederacy agreeing to release X number of Union POWS in exchange for release of X number of Confederate POWs by the Union--McCleary did not seem hopeful that his turn would some come.

But it did.  Less than two weeks after he sent this last letter home, Special Order No. 3112 was issued by the Quartermaster General's Office.  A copy of this document is below.

It reads (to the best I can decipher):

Pursuant to instructions Received from the War Department ... dated Washington D.C. Dec. 6th, 1864--the following named Officer, having been declared exchanged will immediately join their Respective Commands for duty.

2 Lieut. E McCleary, 7th NYV. Arty--
The Quarter Masters Department will furnish the necessary transportation

By Order of
Col. A. R. Root

--------------------------------------------------------------------
It's kind of interesting that all it took was this one handwritten letter to execute McCleary's release (I can only imagine what it would take today to negotiate the release of prisoners of war), but McCleary followed orders and  proceeded straight to his Regiment--not his home.  It's unclear if he received a furlough so he could visit his parents and sister, but he continued to serve in the Union Army through 1865.  He was even sent back to the front lines.  In fact, the letters that I have suggest his spirits were a little lower after he was released from Confederate hands, since he was once again on the move and he didn't receive mail from his family very regularly.  For example, a March 1865 letter to his sister began:

Fort McHenry, MD  March 22, 1865

Dear Sister,
It is rather discouraging to write home as I have not heard a word from any of you since I left the front.  We have moved so often since then the letters are lost.  I think you can direct to this place for we shall not move far from here....

This is an old and very strong Fort.  There are a great many prisoners confined here, both Rebels and Bounty Jumpers.  The Provost Marshall wants me for an assistant in his Office, but as I am the only Officer in the Company, I don't feel like leaving them alone.  It is but 12 hours ride from there to here and you can take that trip we were planning out last Spring when the weather gets a little warmer.

In haste,
EG McCleary

-----------------------------------------

McCleary's reference to his sister coming to visit is not unique--the public would sometimes picnic from vistas near the frontlines so they could watch the Civil War battles.  It doesn't seem that McCleary's sister would do just that, but if she made a trip, she would likely stay at a nearby inn and the two would spend time together when McCleary was off duty.

On April 12, 1865--two days before the Confederacy surrendered--McClearly wrote his mother for the last time as an enlisted officer.

Fort McHenry, Md. April 12th 1865

Dear Mother,

I have received one letter from you since I left the front....  We are quite sure of staying here the rest of our time I am going to be relieved from the Command of my Company tomorrow.  As I have been detailed in the Office as Asst Provost Marshall.  I will have charge of all the Rebel Prisoners at this Post, which number sometimes 1000.  Things have changed since last summer....

My pants are worn out as I do not want to buy any more as my time is so near out.  I am on Guard today so excuse me for not writing more.

Yours,
EG McCleary

------------------------------------------------------------

He made it.  McClearly survived the Civil War, even though he had been shot three times, captured as a POW, and lived in the Libby Prison for months.  Now, he faced the battle of adjusting back to civilian life--would he get married?  Would he live a long life?  Were his wounds healed as well as he said they were?  The final installment will answer these questions and provide a glimpse of McCleary's personal life and how he spent the remainder of his life.

Shot and Left for Dead

I left off on my last post with Edward McCleary's parents desperately waiting to hear from their son.  The last letter they received included a hurried goodbye as he was off to the front lines.  (click here to read the last post if you haven't already).

After waiting for more than one month to receive news, McCleary's parents received the following letter from McLellan (a fellow lieutenant in McCleary's Regiment):

Camp Near Petersburgh, VA
July 10th 1864

Mr. McCleary
Dear Sir--

I received a letter from my brother last evening there was a note enclosed from you inquiring about your son, E.G. McCleary. 

On the morning of the third of June at Cold Harbor, V.A., he was missing on the charge of Gaines Hill--I inquired but could trace no tidings of him.  On the 8th of June, Capt. K.E. Jones and myself went over the battlefield and tried to find him but saw no person to answer his description or rank.  On picking up a paper last evening, I saw his name among a list of Officers now prisoners at Libby.  You will observe by reading it over that he is badly wounded in three places and is in Libby Prison Hospital.  Give my respects to all his folks.

Yours Respectfully,
Charles McLellan, Lieut.
7th NYV Artillery


Enclosed along with this letter was a newspaper clipping showing the following:

Libby Prison, located in Richmond, Virginia, was perhaps the most notorious POW camp of the South.  Known for rampant disease, inadequate food, and a high mortality rate, it was the last place an injured soldier would want to go.  According to the New York Times, "the average mortality rate is near 40 per day," and was estimated to rise to as high as "50 per day, or 1,500 monthly."  The increase in deaths was attributed to "insufficient food, clothing and shelter, combined with that depression of spirits brought on so often by long confinement." 

McCleary somehow got access to Libby Prison stationary--as you can see, the poem printed on the front of it was as disheartening as possible.  McCleary did not use this stationary until he could adequately assure his family that he would survive.

Thus, the news that their son was taken to Libby Prison was bittersweet.  At least he was alive--but would he remain so for long?

As it turns out, McClearly wrote a letter to his parents on June 10, 1864, but he never mailed it to them, perhaps because of his condition or he was not permitted to do so.  The letter was eventually published in a newspaper, it read (for the full version, read the article for yourself below):

Dear Parents--
I take the earliest opportunity to write and inform you of my whereabouts, and let you know that I am still alive, and that is saying all; for I am stretched out on my back and liable to remain so for a few months.  I was wounded on the 3rd of June at a place called Gain's Mills.  We charged on the enemy's breast works at four in the morning, when I was laid out by a musket ball passing through my thigh.  I lay on the field where I fell for fifteen hours.  About three o'clock in the afternoon I got another shot in the knee and just after dark I got an ugly one right in the abdomen; the ball laid in there till the next morning.  About nine o'clock the Rebs. came over and gathered about a dozen of us wounded and sent us to the hospital.  The next day we were all sent to Richmond....  I am in hopes that I may be paroled or exchanged before next winter....  I shall know what a home is and appreciate it better than I ever did before.  My wounds are very severe, but not mortal.  If I can keep them clean through the warm weather I will be all right.  I keep them constantly wet.  They are beginning to run and smell bad....  I am nearly naked at present, but I guess I can tough it through.  I must close now.  Hoping to hear from you soon, I remain, your affectionate son, Edward G. McCleary.

[the June 10, 1864 letter printed in a newspaper]

----

Instead of sending the rather bleak letter above, McCleary sent his parents the following one, dated June 23, 1864:

Dear Father, Mother, and Sister
I am under the necessity of writing kind of a family letter for the reason that writing materials are very scarce....  I have been boarding here at the Libby jail three weeks.  It is a great institution--everything is free, gratis, for nothing, no board or doctor's bills to pay, and notwithstanding all of these advantages, I would much rather stay a week than a month.  It is rather tedious for me to lay here on my back week after week with no friend near to keep my spirits up.  Still I have got a great deal to be thankful for.  My wounds are doing well and I think in the course of a couple of months more I will be as good as ever.  I think as soon as this Campaign is ended there will be a General Exchange of Prisoners.  If this is the case I shall be able to come home again for twenty or thirty days before I join my Regmt.  The Regmt. may be sent back to their old quarters this Fall.  I hope they will be. . . . 

I intend to get out of the service when this old Regmt. is mustered out or sooner and if I am ever fortunate enough to get back to that happy home once more I think I can content myself the rest of my life in making a place comfortable for you and mother in your age.  My thoughts are constantly with you and it lightens many many a long hour to think of times past and many happy days in store for us all. . . .  I will close looking ahead for brighter days when peace shall reign over our once happy land and wars will be no more.

Yours affectionately,
Lieut. E.G. McCleary

-----

The mail of a POW was not always reliably sent.  Thus, when, by the end of July, McCleary had not heard from his parents or sister, he wrote another letter to them.  As you can see, his June 10th letter lacked much humor, while his June 23rd letter showed that his spirits were beginning to revive themselves (especially with the bit about how great it was to have free board and medical consultations).  By the time he wrote his July 27, 1864 letter, McCleary was more firmly back to his humorous antics.  As you can see from the heading of the letter I excerpt below, rather than present his situation as being detained in Libby Prison, he jocularly referred to his place of confinement as the "Hotel De Libby" (McCleary's father had a habit of underlining all misspelled words in his son's letters, and I think the little pencil hand pointing at McCleary's joke was likely written by his father--not so sure he approved of the jest).

July 27, 1864

Hotel De Libby

Dear Parents,

I know not [whether] you have received my previous letters as I have not heard from you since I came here.  But, as there is a Flag of Truce boat running up now nearly every week you will be quite [sure] to get this and have an opportunity to answer it.

It will be eight weeks tomorrow since I was captured and I know how much anxiety you must have felt for me.  It was reported in the Regmt. that I fell dead in the enemys Rifle Pitts when we made that bloody charge on the third of June.  It was at Cold Harbor near Gains Mills.  The wounds in my abdomen and thigh are entirely healed up.  I walk around some on one crutch as I can not bear much weight on my right leg as the knee is still a little stiff and sore.  We are in very good quarters all I have to complain of is the grub.  The rations are very short and I have experienced many a hungry day since I saw you last, but I care nothing about that.  My anxiety is about you I have been afraid you had taken the news of my death to heart and would pine over it.  But keep up your hopes I am coming out all right and if we get exchanged soon which we expect to, I will try and come home before I join my Regmt...

-----------

I am going to leave off with my story at this point.  McCleary was healing nicely, but still a POW.  Whether he would ever make it back home to see his parents or when he would be released as part of an exchange deal between the Union and Confederacy were questions that surely weighed heavily on the minds of McCleary and his family. 

In my next post, I will tell just what became of McCleary.

Until This Awful War Is Over

This week, I am writing about an ancestor of mine who fought in the Civil War, Edward McCleary (pictured above).  He volunteered to join the Union Army in 1862, left his home in upstate New York, and traveled to New York City, where he joined the New York State Seventh Volunteer Regiment, Heavy Artillery.

His parents were not keen on him volunteering for the army.  Naturally, they worried he'd never come home.  Battles were fought with unreliable guns (bullets often did not reach the destination that had been their aim) and bayonets.  If a man was wounded, medicine was primitive (if any was even available).  McCleary's parents had good reason to worry.

Knowing his parents' feelings, McClearly wrote home often to try to reassure his family that he was fine.  When he was not feeling well, he would sometimes write secret letters to his sister--letters that were to be kept from his parents--to let her know what was actually happening.

From 1862 to 1864, McCleary wrote countless letters describing camp conditions and the assignments he performed.  He has a great sense of humor, and the letters describe what his life at camp was really like (miserable, but he kept a great attitude).  Although the first couple of years were spent traveling between camps, McClearly sent a hurried letter to his mother--probably in the late spring of 1864--to say goodbye, as he suspected he was about to be sent to the front lines.

To give you an idea of the letters his sister and parents received from 1862-1864, I am providing excerpts from a few of my favorites:

October 17, 1862

Dear Sister:

Not hearing from you for some time, I thought I would write you a few lines this morning to see what has become of you....  Cooper has had typhoid fever and came very near going for it, but now he is well.  Charley is very sick....  He is most crazy with the headache and there is so much noise around camp with drums it doesn't help it much....  This is the worst month there is for fevers and if we get through it there is not much danger....

...[discussing a letter and package being sent to him from home] tell mother to put in a bottle of camphor it is good to keep off lice.  They are so thick here that some of the Company have got to strike them off their tent and let them air....  Some folks say they are healthy but I don't care about getting acquainted much.  We have had considerable rain lately and my tent leaked like the devil but I believe there was no damage done except one night the water was under me and I found the seat of my pants in a very moist condition the next morning.  I have got so fleshy the last month you would hardly know me and you can tell the girls up in Albany that I am getting more beautiful every day....

[As you will see with more letters, just as McClearly informed his family of some of the undesirable conditions he was experiencing, he would add some humorous lines, usually ending his letters on a light-hearted note].

7th NYS Volunteer Artillery
Feb. 17th, 1863

Dear Sister,

I have the honor to address a few lines to you this afternoon.  I am well and besides that I am in good health.  We have had monthly inspection today and I received quite a compliment from the inspector general; he said my Company looked the best of any in the Regiment.  When I came here they were a perfect mess but I take the credit of getting them well clothed and looking clean and tidy....  If it were not for father and mother I would go in for three years more.  All the officers go out with the Regiment next August and I could get a good position if I would stay.  But I shall follow their wishes and not mine...

We are having lots of rain and mud the weather has been warmer for two days the lice begin to bite once more.  I picked off just 26 the last time I changed and there is a good supply left.  It's rough to wear $7 shirts and have them walk around when they are thrown off.  No more of this for you may be eating supper....  I'll send you the photographs of my wife and family....

[His parents did not get their way in the end, for McCleary remained in the Army long past August.  Also, he was joking about the wife and family]

---------------

February 23, 1963

Dear Mother,

You will be surprised to learn that we have left the Army of the Potomac.  Yesterday we got orders to pack up and report to Fort McHenry.  We left City-Point this morning on a transport and are now laying off Fortress Monroe for the night; we will probably arrive at our destination tomorrow night....

I think you can calculate to see me alive about next August and I am proud to say that no stain of dishonor or charge of cowardice can be laid at the door of our family for my conduct in the field in putting down the Rebellion.

-----

Fort Reno June 22, 1863

Dear Sister,

I am on the sick list and have nothing else to do I am laid up with chills and a high fever.

I caught cold one night last week.  We were called out about 12 at night by the Long Roll and had to lay out the rest of the night beside our guns in the rain [after an alarm sounded]...  I wrote mostly to send this old letter.  I want you to put it away and never mention it to any one before I return.

Your Affectionate Brother,
EG McCleary

---

Camp in the Field, VA

Dear Mother,

I thought it my duty to write you a few lines today....  I expect we are on the eve of a battle; last night we broke Camp with eight days rations and moved off to the left.  There has been quite a fight on our left, the cannoning has been very heavy, we were not engaged last night but come back to our old Camp at day light this morning.  But we are all packed up at present ready to move at a minute's notice....

Don't blame me any of you because I don't write oftener for it is impossible.  When you don't hear from me you may know that I am all right; if anything happens to me you will hear it too soon.

-------------

After sending this goodbye letter to his mother before the eve of battle, McClearly and his Regiment participated in a battle on June 3, 1864, in Cold Harbor.  It was one of the bloodiest battles in the Civil War, with Ulysses S. Grant leading the Union soldiers and Robert E. Lee commanding the Confederates.  Once McCleary, a first lieutenant, and his regiment attacked Lee's army early on the morning of June 3, weeks passed and his family received no word from McCleary.

As time passed, McCleary's parents' worry turned into panic.  Finally, they sent a note that reached Charles McLellan, a lieutenant who knew McClearly and also belonged to the 7th New York State Volunteer Artillery.  McClearly's parents asked that the recipient of their letter please contact them to let them know if their son was well.

My next post will begin with the response they received.

Monument in Central Park, NYC, Dedicated to Those in the Seventh Regiment 

Who Lost Their Lives Fighting for the Union