research

Civil War Guerrillas and the Burning of Hale's Mill

Fearing for their lives, Unionist Jonathan Hale and his family fled across the Tennessee state line to Albany, Kentucky in July 1861, leaving behind a substantial settlement in Fentress County, Tennessee. A little more than a year later, Hale’s abandoned property was put to the torch by Confederate guerrillas.

Everything Hale owned was incinerated. His home and his livelihood went up in flames. The main buildings, including the house and the mill, as well as the out-buildings, burned as the sun set on a crowd of Confederate sympathizers. Virtually nothing survived the inferno. Hale’s dwelling and its furnishings and a large library, destroyed. The mill, used as both a grist mill and a sawmill, and the machinery within the mill. The barn, the stable, the cabin for Hale’s slaves, a blacksmith shop. Two acres of ground covered by at least two hundred thousand board-feet of seasoned lumber, a dryhouse and sheds full of lumber. And a hundred bushels of corn, some oats, hay, and rye. By the time the flames had died to embers and the smoke began to clear, only the corn crib and the schoolhouse had escaped the conflagration.

As soon as Union troops began to establish a more or less permanent presence in the Upper Cumberland, Hale sought the help of the nearest Union provost marshal in seeking redress for his losses. Over the next three years, the accuser and the accused exchanged facts and fancy like gunfire. What led up to the destruction? Who exactly was responsible? Who should pay for damages?

Not surprisingly, most of the explanations proffered led back to the infamous Confederate guerrilla, Champ Ferguson. The instigating factor in the burning of Hale’s Mill, it was said, was the death of young “Fate” Allen, a member of Champ Ferguson’s band. One version of the story maintained that Allen was killed by a sniper firing from Hale’s abandoned home. This was denied by Hale and his Unionist friends. Another version claimed that Champ Ferguson’s band was in the Three Forks area of northeastern Overton County, allegedly driving stolen cattle. Rufus Dowdy and his men lay in wait near Hale’s Mill, hoping when Ferguson came along they could scatter the stolen cattle. As Ferguson passed by Hale’s abandoned settlement, Dowdy’s men opened fire and scattered both the cattle and the Confederate guerrillas. When the Confederates regrouped, they discovered that Fate Allen was dead.

Enraged at Allen’s murder, Ferguson’s men and many Confederate sympathizers gathered, plotting retaliation and destruction. Jonathan Hale was hated by the secessionists. It was bad enough that he had recruited Union scouts, but for Union guerrillas to use his property as a base of operations could not be allowed. And so the fires were set.

Once Hale began to press his case with the Union provost marshal, authorities took statements from him, Dowdy, and others who provided a list of dozens of local citizens who allegedly participated in starting the fires or watching and shouting their support. The list included Champ Ferguson, Ferdinand Daugherty, Alvan Cullom, James McHenry, and McHenry’s father. Hale and his friends also documented the value of what was destroyed. Virtually no documentation was gathered from the men accused of this arson. Each of the accused was held liable for an amount of damages proportional to his net worth.

Samuel Matheny was one of those present who was assessed for damages. Samuel was the uncle of my great-great-grandfather, Andrew Jackson Lacy, who disappeared during the Civil War. When the Federal government began rewarding veterans of the War of 1812, Samuel received a bounty warrant and a pension for his service. But in the early 1870s he was faced with having to defend his loyalty to the Union during the Civil War. This was a new requirement for continuing to receive a pension. Someone – likely Jonathan Hale or his wife – informed the U.S. government of Samuel’s alleged participation in the burning of Hale’s property. Federal review resulted in Samuel being dropped from the pension rolls. Matheny claimed that his loyalty to the Union was sufficient to give him voting rights immediately after the war. That information was ignored by the pension bureau. In the process of attempting to renew Samuel’s pension, several friends provided affidavits of his loyalty. Staunch Unionists and Union officers like Maj. John A. Brents and Col. Abraham Garrett claimed that Matheny was always a Union man and had aided the Union cause on many occasions, including providing Federal officers with information on the whereabouts of Confederate troops and guerrillas. But other Unionists claimed Samuel was a loyal Confederate, and that he had taken pains to support the Southern cause.

The truth of Matheny’s culpability was never settled. But in March 1878 the loyalty requirement for a War of 1812 pension was removed. Matheny’s pension was then restored.

For more on Jonathan Hale and Confederate guerrillas, see MISSING IN ACTION, 1863: Andrew Jackson Lacy and Tennessee’s Confederate Cavalry.


Sources:

J. D. Hale and John D. Hale files, in NARA. Papers Relating to Citizens, compiled 1861-1865. Microfilm M345, Record Group 109 (Washington, DC: National Archives Microfilm Publications, 1967. Online version, Union Provost Marshals’ File of Papers Relating to Individual Citizens, Fold3.com, 2011).

Samuel Matheny, in NARA, War of 1812 Pension and Bounty Land Warrant Application Files, compiled ca. 1871- ca. 1900, documenting the period 1812 - ca. 1900, Record Group 15, Roll RG15-1812PB-Bx2355 (Washington, DC: National Archives Microfilm Publications, n.d.; Online edition, War of 1812 Pension and Bounty Land Warrant Application Files, Fold3.com, 2011).

 

POWs as Human Shields in the Civil War

Ardent secessionist Ferdinand H. Daugherty had run out of luck. As the lieutenant colonel for the Eighth Tennessee Cavalry, Andrew Jackson Lacy’s regiment, he was sent back behind enemy lines in the Upper Cumberland of Tennessee in August 1863 to retrieve men from his regiment who had become trapped. Then, finding himself trapped behind enemy lines, but eager to wreak havoc, he led bands of men on raids of Union supporters and their households. When the bitter winter of 1864 convinced him to disband his men until warmer weather came along, he returned to his home in Livingston, Tennessee, to lie low and hope Union troops pursuing Confederate guerrillas would not discover him. Alas, Daugherty was found in February 1864, allegedly hiding on top of his smoke house.

Following his capture, Daugherty was sent to Louisville, Kentucky for exchange. But no exchange took place. Instead, Daugherty was transferred to Camp Chase, in Columbus, Ohio, and a month later, to Fort Delaware on the Atlantic coast. The exchange of prisoners had been stopped by Federal authorities.

Throughout the war, Abraham Lincoln had been keen on not adopting any policy which might – through its application – suggest acknowledgment of the Confederacy as a sovereign nation. Lincoln had not been in favor of exchanging prisoners, for this reason, but under political and international pressure, he had reluctantly agreed. Yet, as the war dragged on, some voiced the opinion that exchanging prisoners was only placing Confederates back on the line of battle, while Union soldiers, once released from Confederate prisons, frequently did not go back into battle because their terms of enlistment were up. Ironically, in late 1863 when Gen. Benjamin F. Butler took over as the Federal agent for prisoner exchange, his orders were to not arrange or permit any exchanges, and instead, find excuses. U.S. Secretary of War Stanton, Gen. Henry Halleck, and General Grant were influential in not only establishing an end to prisoner exchange but also, considering alleged atrocities in Confederate prisons, to favor retaliatory moves.[i]

The collapse of the exchange agreement between the Union and the Confederacy resulted in growing populations in the prisons, more and larger prisons, and an almost impossible task of maintaining the prisons, particularly for the Confederacy, who, because of battles and blockades faced severe shortages in food and medicine.

Shortly after Union forces took Morris Island at the entrance to Charleston Harbor in July 1863, the city was placed under siege. Union forces shelled Charleston indiscriminately, without regard to military or civilian targets. Nearly a year later, Maj. Gen. Samuel Jones, commanding the Department of South Carolina, placed fifty captured Union officers in parts of the city still occupied by citizens, and notified his Federal counterpart, Maj. Gen. John G. Foster, the next day. This provoked an angry exchange of words. Foster condemned Jones’ action as cruelty and claimed his bombardment of Charleston was directed at military targets only. Jones contended that the bombardment has been random, with the intent of destroying everyone and everything.[ii]

In short order, Foster brought fifty captured Confederate officers from Fort Delaware so he could place them in the line of Confederate fire upon Morris Island. Before they could be placed in harm’s way, however, the two parties agreed – in defiance of the orders of their respective governments – to a prisoner exchange. But within days, Jones received word that a large number of prisoners were being sent to him in Charleston because of Union raids near Macon and Andersonville in Georgia. He tried and failed to get his superiors to reverse this decision. His facilities for prisoners were overcrowded, and when the prisoners arrived, they were placed in several locations around the city, while the officers were accommodated in residential areas much like the original fifty officers who had just been exchanged. When Foster learned of this, he was livid. Assuming the Confederacy was once again using Union officers as human shields, he asked Major General Halleck for six hundred rebel officers.[iii]

On August 15, 1864, Foster informed Jones that six hundred Confederate officers would once again being placed under fire because of Jones’ actions. Jones insisted this was only a temporary arrangement, and offered to exchange prisoners at once, but Foster had been ordered by Halleck not to conduct any exchanges without explicit approval from Washington.[iv]

Thus, six hundred officers imprisoned at Fort Delaware – including Lt. Col. Ferdinand Daugherty – were singled out for what they hoped would be an impending exchange. In the coming weeks, they would be disavowed of all hope. They departed Fort Delaware on August 20 onboard the sidewheel steamer Crescent City, headed for Hilton Head in South Carolina. The following day, Grant ordered that none of the six hundred were to be exchanged under any circumstances. At Hilton Head, only a small number of the sick were released and sent ashore; the remainder sailed back up the coast to Charleston. On September 1, the ship reached Charleston Harbor and the six hundred, who would come to be called the "Immortal Six Hundred", were placed under fire while a stockade on Morris Island, on the south shore of the harbor, was completed. On September 7, they went ashore, and on October 21, they were moved to Fort Pulaski, Georgia, at the entrance to Savannah's harbor. On December 15, 1864, thirty-one of the men at Fort Pulaski - including Ferdinand Daugherty - were returned to and paroled at Charleston Harbor. The remainder would eventually return to Fort Delaware.[v]

[i] Lonnie R. Speer, War of Vengeance: Acts of Retaliation Against Civil War POWs (Mechanicsburg, PA: Stackpole Books, 2002), 131-132.

[ii] Speer, War of Vengeance, 95-99.

[iii] Speer, War of Vengeance, 102.

[iv] Speer, War of Vengeance, 102, 104.

[v] Speer, War of Vengeance, 105, 108, 112-113.

 

Four Ministers and a Confederate Colonel (repost, revised)

I recently posted the news that my latest book, MISSING IN ACTION, 1863: Lieutenant Andrew Jackson Lacy and Tennessee’s Confederate Cavalry, is now in print. A significant resource I tapped in writing this book was the collection of letters between Lieutenant Lacy and his family. In a letter he wrote a month after joining the cavalry, Lacy spoke of going to church and hearing "Dr. Pendergrass" preach. While the chaplain of the Eighth Tennessee Cavalry was Charles Wylie Witt, 39, a minister of the Cumberland Presbyterian church, "Parson" Witt's nephew, Travis Witt Pendergrass, 35, accompanied the regiment for several months, attending to the needs of both body (surgery) and soul (exhortation). Like his Uncle Charles, Travis Pendergrass was a minister of the Cumberland Presbyterian Church. His three younger brothers were all in the same company as Lieutenant Lacy.

A few months after Lacy heard Pendergrass preach, his regiment was sent to Florence, Alabama. There, Pendergrass was surprised to run into a fellow Cumberland Presbyterian minister, Thomas Fletcher Bates. Then, to his further surprise, Pendergrass encountered Rev. Robert A. Young, a prominent preacher in the Methodist Episcopal Church, South who was currently serving as president of the Wesleyan University in Florence (now the University of North Alabama). Pendergrass had met Young in Lebanon, Tennessee in 1853, shortly before Young was reassigned to a pastorate in St. Louis, Missouri.

In 1846, Rev. Young had met the "plain, quiet" son of a friend, Anthony Dibrell. That son, George Gibbs Dibrell, was now a colonel commanding Lacy’s regiment, the Eighth Tennessee Cavalry. Of Colonel Dibrell's religious convictions, Young said "When [Dibrell’s] chaplain preached to his command, standing between two tallow candles, one of his most devout listeners was the commander in chief." The chaplain he refers to is most likely Charles Witt.

Before Lacy's regiment left Florence and returned to Tennessee, Charles Witt resigned as chaplain, complaining that the varicose veins in his legs made riding very uncomfortable. Pendergrass signed off on a medical discharge for his uncle. When Witt left Florence for Jackson County, Tennessee, he delivered to Lacy's family an accounting that Lieutenant Lacy had kept of all the operations of the Eighth Cavalry up to that point. The family owns that document today.

(1) http://freepages.genealogy.rootsweb.ancestry.com/~pendergrass/pics/travis/pics_travis.html

(2) Young, R. A. Reminiscences. Nashville, Tennessee: Publishing House Methodist Episcopal Church, South, 1900. https://readux.library.emory.edu/books/emory%3A7sv2p/pdf/

MISSING IN ACTION, 1863 - New Title Published by Mark Lacy!

My book on Andrew Jackson Lacy in the Civil War is finally finished and published!
MISSING IN ACTION, 1863: Lieutenant Andrew Jackson Lacy and Tennessee's Confederate Cavalry.

In the summer of 1863, my great-great-grandfather, a young lieutenant in the Eighth (Dibrell’s) Tennessee Cavalry (CSA), disappeared and was never seen again. He left behind a grieving family, including a young wife and infant son (my great-grandfather). Once the war ended, and the remnants of the Confederate army headed home, including prisoners released from Union prisons, Lieutenant Lacy’s family waited anxiously to see if he might return. He did not.

This was a 150-year-old missing-persons cold case. I had to investigate. Did I find him?

(Spoiler alert!)

The honest answer is no. I have pursued this mystery for decades, searching for needles in all kinds of haystacks. I started with the many letters that Andrew Lacy wrote to his family during the war, and the letters they wrote to him. (How the family happens to have letters written to him is another mystery surrounding his disapperance.) I spent many hours (even days!) in front of microfilm readers at the Tennessee State Library & Archives, went cross-eyed following the tiniest bread crumbs across the internet, and searched through dozens of books on the Civil War. I researched the men he served with on the remote chance that one of them might lead me to him, and accumulated notes on over 2000 men in the process. I studied the movement of troops and the rise of guerrilla warfare in Middle Tennessee. My conclusion, as explained in the last chapter of the book, is that he probably died sometime in the last half of August 1863, within 25 miles of home, likely at the hands of guerrillas.

I must be an optimist because, while the book is finished, I can't help continuing to look for him. Someday maybe I'll stumble across what we need to know.

If you’re interested in the Civil War, historical detective work, or genealogy, you’ll be interested in reading MISSING IN ACTION, 1863: Lieutenant Andrew Jackson Lacy and Tennessee's Confederate Cavalry.

Civil War Mysteries

William Martin's hybrid historical-fiction/thriller, The Lincoln Letter , promised to be an interesting read, and I was not disappointed.  The story revolves around a previously-unknown diary of Abraham Lincoln's, a daybook that clearly shows the evolution of his thoughts on the emancipation of slaves. Modern-day historical sleuths Peter Fallon and Evangeline Carrington are racing to locate the diary before it is found by those who would use its controversial contents to further their nefarious political desires. Juxtaposed with the 21st century treasure-hunting story is the story of how Lincoln's diary came to be lost during the Civil War, and the lengths to which Lincoln's enemies would go to locate it. In order to track down the diary, Fallon and Carrington must - through careful research - reconstruct the Civil War story.  They must also thread their way through a complex web of characters whose varied selfish aims place the sleuths in danger at every turn. The novel was very interesting, but it also appealed to me on another level: it reminded me of my own research in reconstructing the Civil War career of my great-great-grandfather, a junior officer in Tennessee's Confederate Cavalry who disappeared under mysterious circumstances in the middle of the war, never to be seen again. Solving Lt. Andrew Lacy's mystery does not have the potential impact of Lincoln's diary in The Lincoln Letter, and there is no race to elucidate this mystery. But just as seemingly minor details at the time of the Civil War provided important clues to the disappearance of Lincoln's diary in The Lincoln Letter, my hope is that minor details (many of which are found in the letters Lacy and his family wrote one another during the war) may lead to the discovery of my ancestor's actual fate. This possibility is what keeps me searching, researching, and re-researching. It also makes for more extensive research than I realized I would need in order to tell Lt. Lacy's story. That, in turn, has caused the writing of my story to take much longer than I had guessed. All I can ask for is patience from those who are waiting to read Lt. Lacy's tale.

Four Ministers and a Confederate Colonel

{research}In a letter he wrote a month after joining Tennessee's Confederate cavalry, Second Lieutenant Andrew Jackson Lacy spoke of going to church and hearing "Dr. Pendergrass" preach. The chaplain of the Eighth Tennessee Cavalry was Charles Wylie Witt, 39, a minister of the Cumberland Presbyterian church. But "Parson" Witt's nephew, Travis Witt Pendergrass, 35, accompanied the regiment for several months, attending to the needs of both body (surgery) and soul (exhortation). Like his uncle, Pendergrass was a minister of the Cumberland Presbyterian church. His three younger brothers were all in the same company as Lt. Lacy.

A few months after Lt. Lacy heard Pendergrass preach, the Eighth Cavalry was sent to Florence, Alabama. There Pendergrass was surprised to run into a fellow Cumberland Presbyterian minister, Thomas Fletcher Bates. Then, to his further surprise, he encountered Rev. R. A. Young, a prominent preacher in the Methodist Episcopal Church, South, currently serving as president of the Wesleyan University in Florence. Pendergrass had met Young in Lebanon, Tennessee in 1853, shortly before Young was reassigned to a pastorate in St. Louis, Missouri.

In 1846, Rev. Young had met the "plain, quiet" son of a friend, Anthony Dibrell. That son, George Gibbs Dibrell, was now a colonel commanding the Eighth Tennessee Cavalry. Of Col. Dibrell's religious convictions, Young said "When his chaplain preached to his command, standing between two tallow candles, one of his most devout listeners was the commander in chief." The chaplain he refers to is most likely Charles Witt.

Before Lacy's regiment returned to Tennessee, Charles Witt resigned as chaplain, complaining that the varicose veins in his legs made riding very uncomfortable. Pendergrass signed off on a medical discharge for his uncle. When Witt left Florence for Jackson County, Tennessee, he delivered to Lacy's family an accounting that Lt. Lacy had kept of all the operations of the Eighth Cavalry up to that point. The family owns that document today.

See (1) http://freepages.genealogy.rootsweb.ancestry.com/~pendergrass/pics/travis/pics_travis.html (2) Young, R. A. Reminiscences. Nashville, Tennessee: Publishing House Methodist Episcopal Church, South, 1900. https://readux.library.emory.edu/books/emory%3A7sv2p/pdf/