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

This Week on the Blog--A Tribute to a Civil War Veteran

[7th Regiment Memorial, Central Park West

Dedicated to the 58 Men in the Regiment Who Died Fighting for the Union in the Civil War]

First off, thanks to everyone who left supportive comments and liked my status update about my book appearing on my publisher's website.  The process of getting published has been a really long journey.  But, I still get excited when it feels like I have passed another milestone towards it actually being in print.  Seeing it on my publisher's website, with an image of the cover and a description of its contents had me pretty much jumping for joy.

I'd like to do something special this week on the blog.  As Memorial Day weekend is approaching, I thought it might be interesting to write about an ancestor of mine who was a Civil War veteran.  The timing is especially fitting since Memorial Day was actually established after the Civil War to commemorate all who had lost their lives.  Therefore, this week, I'd like to dedicate my blog posts to telling the remarkable story of my ancestor, Edward McCleary, who volunteered as a Union soldier in the Seventh Volunteer Regiment, which originated in New York City, and remained an enlisted solider through 1865.  Thanks to an old wooden box that stored about two dozen letters that he had written from the front lines, along with a photo, a veteran's medal, old newspaper clippings, and a bullet (yes, a bullet), I have pieced together his extraordinary experience as a Union soldier.

So, whether you're into Civil War history or you appreciate a good story, the one I will be telling this week is filled with drama, suspense, and humor.  It will take you on an unbelievable journey if I do say so myself.

A Preview of My Book!!!!!!!!!

My book has been added to my publisher's website.  Check it out by clicking here.  Looks like it will be available in November.

Was it Really Three Cups of Tea, Greg Mortenson?

I've hesitated writing a critical piece about Greg Mortenson's Three Cups of Tea because, on the one hand, the man seems to be doing good things for the world by building schools in Afghanistan and Pakistan.  On the other hand, Three Cups of Tea has increasingly come under fire for mischaracterizing events and wholly manufacturing parts of the story.  Plus, Mortenson's charity, the Central Asia Institute ("CAI"), has faced a battery of accusations regarding its atrocious accounting practices and mismanagement of funds.  As the truth has gradually surfaced over the last year or so, it seems a discussion of Mortenson's hoax is now appropriate. 

For the sake of full disclosure, I read Three Cups of Tea a couple years ago.  I found the first 50 pages or so riveting, the next 50 pages began to flounder, and the 50 pages after that made me lose all interest in reading the rest of the book.  I never finished it.

Now, as it turns out, the story that Mortenson told in the first 50 pages or so--of failing to reach the summit of K2 in Pakistan, getting lost in a small village called Korphe, being nursed back to health by the villagers there, and feeling so touched that he promised to build a school for that village--possibly never happened.
The integrity of Three Cups of Tea began to unravel when 60 Minutes broadcast a show in April 2011 that accused Mortenson of inaccuracies in both Three Cups of Tea and its sequel, Stones into Schools, and for mismanaging CAI.  Besides asserting that Mortenson invented the story of being lost in Korphe, 60 Minutes also challenged Mortenson's claim that he was captured by the Taliban in 1996, noted that Mortenson may have exaggerated the number of schools CAI actually built, and claimed that millions of dollars donated to CAI were actually spent not on schools, but on buying copies of Mortenson's books, and paying for Mortenson's travel costs to promote his books.

In response to the 60 Minutes allegations, Mortenson agreed to be interviewed by his hometown newspaper, The Bozeman Daily Chronicle, and by Outside magazine.  Through these interviews, Mortenson admitted that the story of how he ended up in Korphe was based upon a series of experiences he had conflated into a single remarkable tale.  Apparently, many of the incidents described in Mortenson's books were told in like manner--by synthesizing several encounters into a single poignant one.  When asked if he reviewed the manuscript of his book before it was published and whether he realized that the book was not exactly telling a truthful account of his story, Mortenson blamed his co-author, David Oliver Relin.  Mortenson claimed that he "would squawk about it and be told it would all work out."  In fact, Mortenson claimed that, because he was overseas so frequently, Relin would actually read the manuscript to Mortenson over the phone (as if that somehow lessens his obligation to ensure it is accurate).  When asked if he has read the published book and observed that it did not portray his story accurately, Mortenson replied: "Yeah.   Especially in regards to the timing.  Like, you know, you went there three times, twice you went there in the fall, so let's just make it one fall trip."

As with other literary hoaxes--such as James Frey's and Arthur Train's--Mortenson has since faced his share of lawsuits.  Like Frey and Train, Mortenson has been sued for the "fraud" inherent in his book, as it purports to tell the true story of how Mortenson came to build schools and found CAI.  Since the book embellished aspects of Mortenson's experiences, conflated others, and may exaggerate just how many schools were built, billing it as a "true" story seemed deceitful--at least that's what the litigants in the class action lawsuit against Mortenson alleged.  Although this lawsuit has been dismissed in federal district court, an appeal has been filed.  It will be interesting to see what happens.  In Frey's case, the class action fraud lawsuit against him and his publisher resulted in a settlement amounting to about $3.5 million, which included a massive refund to hoaxed readers.

The allegations about the misuse of CAI funds led to an investigation by the Montana attorney general (CAI is based out of Montana), which resulted in an agreement by which Mortenson would pay $1 million to compensate CAI for his use of CAI funds to promote his books and buy copies of them.  This figure seems low, considering that 60 Minutes reported that CAI spent nearly $4 million to buy copies of Mortenson's books (which generated royalties paid to Mortenson) and the attorney general's report found that CAI had paid around $4.9 million to promote the books.  Under the circumstances, one must wonder whether CAI's purpose is to build schools or its founder's bank accounts.

In the end, I find this whole episode really disappointing.  I find it unsettling that Mortenson doesn't seem to take any personal responsibility for publishing books that are presented as true stories, yet are not exactly "true."  Blaming it all on his co-author seems disingenuous.  I feel bad for those who donated money to CAI, thinking the bulk of it would be spent building schools, when the media has reported that only about 41% of the donations to CAI actually goes towards building schools.
Makes me doubt that it really takes three cups of tea.  Maybe he just took three trips and had one cup of tea during each?

Works consulted:
New York Times
Huffington Post
Greg Mortenson, Three Cups of Tea.

Like Harper Lee or John Grisham?

Who doesn't like To Kill a Mockingbird?  Have you enjoyed any of John Grisham's novels?  If so, you might be interested in reading the contenders for this year's Harper Lee Prize for the best works of legal fiction published during the past year.  The award was established one year ago (with Harper Lee's blessing), to celebrate the 50th anniversary of the publication of To Kill a Mockingbird.  Last year's winner was John Grisham. 

This year's top three are (the blurbs below were taken from the authors's websites):

The Fifth Witness by Michael Connelly:

In tough times, crime is one of the few things that still pays. But if defense attorney Mickey Haller was expecting an uptick in business during the economic downturn, the reality is a different story. Even people needing legal representation to keep them out of jail are having to make cutbacks, it seems. In fact, the most significant part of Mickey’s business right now is not about keeping clients out of jail but about keeping roofs over their heads as the foreclosure boom hits thousands of people who were granted unrealistic mortgages in the good times and now face being kicked to the curb in the bad times.

Lisa Trammel has been a client of Mickey’s for eight months—hers was his very first foreclosure case, in fact—and although so far he’s managed to stop the bank from taking her house, the strain and sense of injustice have taken a toll. The bank recently got a restraining order to prevent her from protesting against its practices. Now, a high-level bank employee, Mitchell Bondurant, has been found dead in the bank’s parking lot, and Lisa is about to be indicted for murder. For Mickey, it’s back to what he does best on the biggest stage of all, but if he thought defending Lisa Trammel was going to be a walk in the park, he’d be wrong. Not only is he about to learn some startling truths about his client, but also about himself, and by the time the verdict is in, Mickey’s whole world will have been turned upside down.

Murder One by Robert Dugoni

A year after tragedy, attorney David Sloane has returned to work full time. At a black-tie dinner, he reconnects with Barclay Reid, opposing counsel in Sloane's most prominent case. Barclay is suffering from her own personal tragedy after the death of her teenage daughter from a drug overdose. In the aftermath, Barclay has begun an intense crusade against the Russian drug traffickers she holds responsible for her daughter's death, pursuing them with a righteousness that matches Sloane's own zeal for justice. Sloane finds himself drawn to this woman, despite their adversarial past.
When Barclay's crusade stalls and the Russian drug dealer turns up dead, she stands accused of murder, and Sloane is her chosen defender. Amidst the swirling media frenzy, in his first criminal case, Sloane finds himself once again in harm's way, while mounting evidence suggests Barclay is a woman with many secrets. And she may not be quite as innocent—or as in love with Sloane as she purports to be.

Breach of Trust by David Ellis

In this second installment of the Jason Kolarich series, Jason investigates the murder of a key witness in a criminal case that Jason tried. Jason had forced the witness to testify and believes that this led to the witness' murder. When the evidence leads to an obscure agency in state government, guilt-stricken Jason goes to work for the agency to dig deeper. Before he knows it, Jason finds himself square in the middle of a high-level conspiracy of fraud and corruption—as well as a covert federal investigation into these crimes. He is confronted by agents of the FBI, who force Jason to work undercover to root out the criminal activity. Jason finds himself with two roles, solving the murder of the witness and helping put away top state officials—all the way to the governor’s door. But are the two things related? And how far must Jason go to solve the murder and take down a corrupt governor?


The prize is sponsored by the University of Alabama Law School (where Harper Lee attended law school) and the American Bar Association, and the panel of judges includes:

New York Times Bestselling Novelist Linda Fairstein

Former U.S. Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice

New York Times Bestselling Novelist Lisa Scottoline

NPR Legal Affairs Correspondent Nina Totenberg

FOX News Political Analyst Juan Williams

And, you!

If you've read any of these titles and would like to vote, click here

One Risqué Hoax

Earlier this week, I was reading the New York Times when my eyes scanned the obituaries section and the words "literary hoax" caught my attention.  I was surprised to learn about a rather daring hoax of the 1960s--one of which I had never heard.   

Mike McGrady was a prizewinning journalist for Newsday, rubbing elbows with some of the most respected writers of his day.  After reading Valley of the Dolls, McGrady hatched a scheme to make a statement about what he thought was wrong with "mainstream" America.  He conscripted many of the gifted writers with whom he was in contact, and, together, they conspired to write a book that was bawdy and lewd, and that wholly lacked a plot and good writing.  Believing that the public was more interested in reading trashy books than "good" ones, McGrady masterminded the publication of Naked Came the Stranger to prove his point.

Naked Came the Stranger had its standards.  McGrady demanded that the twenty-five writers who were asked to contribute a chapter to the book include at least one sex scene (that is, one or more per chapter).  The authors were to take pains to write poorly-- he "rejected submissions that were too well written."  The only real parameters established in terms of the story line was that the book was supposed to be about a demure Long Island housewife who decides to get back at her cheating husband by inviting many "gentleman callers" to her home and, well, let's just say each chapter was supposed to capture the wife's experience with each candidate (including a boxer, mobster, progressive rabbi, and a gay man).  The cover of the book ensured that readers would not mistake the type of book it was.

The book became a hoax because McGrady submitted it to publishing houses with a cover letter stating that the author was Penelope Ashe, the beautiful housewife caught in her tragically flawed marriage.  Stuart Lyle, Inc., offered a ridiculous sum for the book and immediately began promoting it.  However, before Stuart Lyle began shelling out serious amounts of money, McGrady came clean (he was too worried about being accused of fraud to allow the publication process to go too far) and revealed that there was no such person as Penelope Ashe and that the book was actually written primarily by men.  Stuart Lyle only loved the book more. 

The book was an instant success.  While Stuart Lyle knew it was a hoax, McGrady perpetuated the idea that the book was a real story by recruiting his sister-in-law, Billie Young, to play the part of Penelope Ashe for public events and book signings.  The public was not kept in the dark for long, though.  You see, even hoaxsters have integrity.  McGrady decided to keep his reputation as a respected journalist intact by revealing the truth to the public.  In August 1969, he orchestrated a nationwide press release, with the media publicizing that the book was not written by a desperate housewife in Long Island, but by a team of mostly male writers.  Television also became involved in the big unveil.  In fact, when one late night talk show reported that he had secured Penelope Ashe to be a guest on his show, when the time came for Ashe to appear, "out trouped the whole group of mostly male writers, led by McGrady."  The audience was delighted.

Unlike other hoaxes, when the public learned the true nature of the book, sales continued to climb, and it was even translated into Dutch, Danish, Norwegian, Italian, Spanish, and French.

In the end, the book has sold approximately 400,000 copies, it was made into a pornographic film (McGrady was not involved in the film production), and I suppose it proved McGrady's point: sex sells (even when it lacks much in the way of plot).

If you're interested in reading McGrady's obituary from the New York Times, I am providing a link here.

Works consulted for this entry:
The New York Times
Melissa Katsoulis's Literary Hoaxes: An Eye-Opening History of Famous Frauds

Joan Lowell & Her Literary Hoax

This fall, the University of Alabama Press is publishing a book I have written exploring the incredible literary hoax perpetrated by Arthur Train, based upon his publication of the "autobiography" of his famous fictitious character, Ephraim Tutt.  My book is entitled The Myth of Ephraim Tutt: Arthur Train and His Great Literary Hoax, and I cannot wait to share more details about the book as it nears its publication date. 

Through my research for that book, I learned a lot about other hoaxes that have reared their ugly (or amusing--depends on how you look at it) heads throughout American history.  As I discovered one hoax after another, I could not help but find the whole business of writing books that are utterly false or highly embellished to be a rather fascinating aspect of the book industry.  Some authors are driven by fame and money, some authors twist the truth under the belief that their book will be made more interesting by dramatizing (and falsifying) aspects of their story.  While I sincerely believe that Arthur Train perpetrated his hoax with an innocent and blameless motive, the same cannot be said for most others.

Since the great tradition of the literary hoax shows no sign of approaching extinction--recent hoaxers include James Frey and Greg Mortenson--I will periodically discuss literary hoaxes that have fooled American readers over the years, and will explore whether such hoaxes are ultimately harmful to society or merely humorous literary escapades.  Today, I'd like to begin this exploration by discussing Joan Lowell's publication of Cradle of the Deep.  

 [The front cover of the book--with the letters J and L forming the shape of an anchor]

In 1929, Simon and Schuster, along with a myriad of readers and reviewers, developed a keen interest in Joan Lowell, whose recently published book--Cradle of the Deep-- told of her harrowing adventures on the high seas as she traveled with her father in his glorious four-masted ship.  Her book's foul-mouthed accounts of being the only female on a ship full of hardened sailors, of learning life's lessons (including how to swim, which occurred after she was literally thrown into the ocean to see whether she would sink or stay afloat), and fighting for survival was shocking, engaging, and page-turning.

When the New York Times reviewed the book, it sang its praises.  The book was deemed a "jolly yarn," told with "dash and ardor" and a "vocabulary as replete with expletives as one will encounter at sea or in a highly modern Broadway show."  Although the Times noted that the book seemed plagued with dramatics as Lowell described "each and every calamity at sea--shipwreck, scurvy, fire and so on," the reviewer was quick to add that he did not "question the veracity of the sea-going author."

[Inside the front cover is an illustrated map captioned with some of the adventures Lowell describes]

Oh, but he should have.  Nautical experts who read the book found "innumerable flaws" in Lowell's account, including facts that any amateur sailor would not have mistaken.  Some were so enraged that it was said that they "called upon Heaven, Homer, and Herman Melville to witness that she didn't know her ship's lee scuppers from a marlinspike."  The truth was soon revealed that Lowell grew up exclusively on dry land in California, not on a ship. 

Lowell's publisher and her readers had been "had."  Not knowing before publication that it was entirely make believe, Simon & Schuster was forced to offer a refund to its fooled readers (as the first printing was 75,000 copies, the refund was a costly punishment).  Further, since the book's true nature was not discovered until after the Book-of-the-Month Club recommended it to its members, the hoax's repercussions leaked into the courtroom as this book club was publicly ridiculed and criticized by powerful figures in the book world, which resulted in litigation.

Lowell seems to have escaped her mischief unscathed, as she continued to write and even starred in a movie of her own making.  In 1934, her film, "Adventure Girl," was shown in theaters; the movie supposedly re-enacted her adventures with her father and his crew while on board a schooner headed for the West Indies and Central America.  Lowell was said to have created the film to lend credibility to Cradle of the Deep--but there was no redeeming the latter after it was exposed for the hoax it was.  Lowell never abandoned her tales of navigating the seas; it almost seems that she most of her life trying to revitalize her first fictitious book about such adventures.  She even married a sea captain in 1936 and sailed with him to Brazil, where they built a home in the jungle.  Her attempts to escape from her hoax were unavailing-- even twenty years after its publication, the book world still reeled from her shenanigan--Cradle of the Deep was declared "one of the most violent literary controversies of modern times" in 1952.

[Each chapter featured a captioned illustration, previewing an episode that would be described]

Should Lowell's hoax be considered harmful or hilarious?  Should it be taken seriously or with a sense of humor?  These themes will be discussed in my next blog entry, and periodically in others as I explore other literary hoaxes in American history.


Works consulted for this blog entry:
The New York Times

The Story Behind a World War II Army Air Force Scarf

One benefit of being the only person in my family who has any inclination to study history is that when my parents find old things in their home (thankfully, they are in the midst of spring cleaning), I am the first person they think of when they want to get rid of things (which may someday become problematic, as I live in Manhattan, where apartments are small and storage is smaller).  Recently, my mother found this old scarf, with the words "Army Air Force" embroidered onto it, along with a star with yellow wings.

My initial guess was that the scarf probably belonged to my uncle--he was in the army air force during World War II--in fact, here's a photo of his Certificate of Meritorious Service: 

It initially seemed this scarf was not shrouded in mystery.  But, what use did this scarf have for an air force serviceman?  Would he wear it around the base?  It's too big to be tucked comfortably in a breast pocket.  It feels silky (and is huge--it's about 29 inches by 32 inches), so probably not a handkerchief.  Hmmmm.

After looking around the internet for clues, I discovered that my instincts were a bit off.  The scarf, which was made by the Beau Brummell Company, was intended for a serviceman's wife or girlfriend.  As her sweetheart was off fighting or training, she could proudly wear her scarf as a sign of support and patriotism.  The scarf came with suggestions on how to wear it--as a sash, a "demure hood tied under the chin," a cowl collar with the insignia in front, tied in "cap fashion," or "peasantwise" with the insignia in the back.

Although I am not interested in wearing it, if I were, my legal side would be concerned about ending up on the wrong side of the Stolen Valor Act of 2005.  This law generally prohibits an unauthorized person from wearing military medals or decorations.  Specifically, it provides that "[w]hoever knowingly wears . . . any decoration or medal authorized by Congress for the armed forces of the United States, or any of the service medals or badges, . . . or the ribbon, button, or rosette of any such badge, decoration or medal, or any colorable imitation thereof, except when authorized under regulations made pursuant to law, shall be fined under this title or imprisoned not more than six months, or both."  See 18 U.S.C. section 704.  Is this a regulation scarf?  I have no idea.  Besides, the real enjoyment this scarf provides me is envisioning my aunt wearing this scarf seventy years ago (and I am rather sure she did, since the scarf is tattered and has a few small holes), as my uncle was off fighting in World War II.

The Flickering Lamp

Winston Churchill once said: "History with its flickering lamp stumbles along the trail of the past, trying to reconstruct its scenes, to revive its echoes, and kindle with pale gleams the passion of former days."  As I research people, events, and objects from the past that interest me, I feel much like Churchill's intrepid explorer, delving into a dark abyss with only a few clues as my guide, hoping to uncover the truth and majesty of days long gone.  It is with this spirit of exploration that I begin this blog, where I plan to record many of the interesting and unique stories of history that I have unearthed through my research and life experiences--from discussing some of the most over-the-top literary hoaxes in American history (and their legal repercussions) to exploring topics grounded more squarely in history books--such as various aspects of the American Civil War and World War II.  I hope you will join me as I continue this journey through books, archives, travel, and conducting interviews, seeking to cast light on issues long forgotten.