An Account of the Death of Isaiah Owens

On a winter's day in 1868, two veterans sat down in the office of their local county court clerk and told the story of the death of their friend and comrade Isaiah Owens, who served as a private in the Sixtieth U.S. Colored Infantry. This account was used as evidence to secure a pension for Isaiah's mother, Melinda, who depended upon him as her main source of financial support before he joined the army.

The complete transcription of the original five-page handwritten document copied at the National Archives is included here. Although the length of this document is unusual (one to two pages is average), it shares much in common with similar legal documents of record in pension files. The use of "that," "said," and other terms is normal. Also of note is the structure: The opening always includes the introduction of the clerk and the witnesses, and ends with a statement or statements that none of the individuals appearing have any interest in the case.

The transcription has several valuable details about Isaiah Owens — if you have the focus and patience to read each and every word!

State of Missouri
County of Marion

On this 30th day of December A.D. 1868 before me, John V. Gibbon Clerk of the Hannibal Court of Common Pleas, being a Court of Record in said County & State, personally appeared Henry Combs and Zachariah Johnson residents of Hannibal in said County, whom I certify to be respectable & credible witnesses, who being by me first duly sworn, depose & state:

That they reside as stated, that they were both formerly Privates in Company “C” Capt. Eli Ramsay in the 60th Regt. of U.S. Colored Troops during the late rebellion, & that they enlisted therein in August A.D. 1863.

That they were acquainted with Isaiah Owens in his lifetime, who enlisted in the same Co. & Regt with them in September 1863. That they were both acquainted with said Isaiah Owens prior to his enlistment in said Co, said Zachariah Johnson for over four (4) years before, and said Henry Combs for over two (2) years before; that they both lived during the said time of their acquaintance with said Isaiah Owens before his enlistment as aforesaid, in the same neighborhood with said Isaiah Owens, & were quite intimate with him, and that during all the said time of their acquaintance with him before his said enlistment, said Isaiah Owens was to the knowledge of each of these deponents, a strong, healthy & perfectly well man, and continued so up to the time of his said enlistment.

Just after their said enlistment, they went with said Isaiah Owens, first to St Louis, where they were mustered into the service, and after remaining at St Louis with their said Co & Regt about 3 weeks, they went to Helena Arkansas, & arrived there about December 20th 1863.

That they remained with said Isaiah Owens & their said Co & Regt, at Helena, Ark, until on or about the 25th day of July A.D. 1864, when their said Company (“C”) with three Companies was ordered on a scout in the direction of Big Creek, Arkansas.

That at about four (4) o’clock P.M. of said 25th day of July, 1864, these deponents with said Isaiah Owens & their said Company left Helena on said scout, & marched rapidly all night until they reached said Big Creek, early the next morning, when they came in contact with the rebels & had a battle with them on or about the 26th day of July, 1864.

That during said battle they with many others of their Company became very much exhausted & fatigued by reason of constant marching & the fighting immediately afterwards, & that this was the case with said Isaiah Owens.

That in the latter part of said day by orders, the command retreated to Helena, marching rapidly, & that the fighting with the rebels continued until they got within five (5) miles of Helena.

That the next day, for the first time, they heard said Isaiah Owens complain of his back being sore, that said Isaiah Owens continued to complain of his back being sore until he was taken to the Regimental Hospital at Helena, about three days after said battle of Big Creek, Ark.

That said Isaiah Owens continued to get worse after being taken to said Hospital until the 8th day of September, 1864, when he died of said disease of his back.

That they both saw said Isaiah Owens a short time before he died, and said Henry Combs saw & recognized the Corpse of said Isaiah Owens after his death as aforesaid, in said Hospital, & that they both attended the funeral of said Isaiah Owens the next day after his death as aforesaid, & that they both also heard the Captain announce to their Company the death of said Isaiah Owens, & that they both also saw said Isaiah Owens buried.

That from the time of their enlistment into said Company with said Isaiah Owens, until after said Battle of Big Creek, Arkansas, they never heard said Isaiah Owens complain of being unwell, & that said Isaiah Owens was never sick, from the time of his said enlistment until after said battle.

That during all that time, said Isaiah Owens was as healthy & strong as any man in the Company.

That they are certain said disease of his back, which caused his death as aforesaid, was not induced or aggravated by any personal habits of said Isaiah Owens, for they know that he had no bad habits, & was never intoxicated or under arrest during all of said time, between his enlistment & said battle of Big Creek.

That they are both fully of the opinion, that the disease causing the death of said Isaiah Owens was contracted while on the march from Helena to Big Creek, Arkansas, during said battle, & while on the retreat to Helena again as aforesaid, & was caused by the exposure, & severe marching & fighting, while on said march to Big Creek in said battle, & on said retreat back to Helena.

That they are also acquainted with Melinda Owens the mother of said Isaiah Owens, deceased, & that their testimony as given at her request.

That they are not related to said Melinda Owens, not in any wise interested in her claim for a Mother’s Pension, now pending & numbered 93168.
Henry (his X mark) Combs
Zachariah (his X mark) Johnson
Witnesses to marks
L.L. Leydam
Mabel Sanders

Sworn & subscribed before me by said affiants this 30th day of December A.D. 1868, & I certify that I read & explained the foregoing statements to said Henry Combs & Zachariah Johnson before they signed the same, and I further certify that I am not in any manner interested in said claim of said Melinda Owens, nor concerned in its prosecution.

In testimony wherof I have herewith set my hand & affixed the Official seal of said Hannibal Court of Common Pleas. Done at my office in Hannibal, Missouri, the day & year last above mentioned.

John V. Gibbon — Clerk

Layton Morris: Missing in Action

Today I received this low-resolution scan of Corp. Layton Morris of the Twenty-fourth U.S. Colored Infantry. It appeared for auction on eBay, date unknown.

The individual who sent it to me is a genealogist who specializes in researching African American descendants. This person does not own the original image, which appears to be a carte de visite inserted into a period photograph album page.

I want to find out who the rightful owner of this image is, and, if he or she would share this photograph with me for my forthcoming book on African American soldiers.

Please contact me if you have any information about this image.

Unique Wartime Letter Proves Awareness of Historic Role

A letter written by the surgeon of the Eighth U.S. Colored Infantry less than a month after the Battle of Olustee is unique in several respects.

The author, Alexander Peter Heichhold (1825-1882, pictured right) a white Pennsylvania physician in his late thirties, was a staunch supporter of equal rights. According to a biographer, “The doctor was an ultra Republican, and an early advocate for the enlistment of colored troops.” Dr. Heichhold took the first opportunity afforded him to leave his original regiment, the 105th Pennsylvania Infantry, and join the Eighth.

The letter describes in detail the regiment's participation in the Battle of Olustee, Florida, on Feb. 20, 1864. It suffered the loss of more than half its men and officers, one of the highest casualty rates of any regiment in any battle during the entire war. While battle letters are fairly common, the descriptive quality of this account is as impressive as its accounting of events. An excerpt:

[Brig. Gen. Truman Seymour] now came up, and pointing in front towards the railroad, said to Col. [Charles Wesley] Fribley, commander of the 8th, "take your regiment in there," a place which was sufficiently hot to make veterans tremble, and yet we were to enter it with men who had never heard the sound of a cannon. Col. Fribley ordered the regiment, by company, into line, double-quick march, but, before it was fairly in line, the men commenced dropping like leaves in autumn; still, on they went, without faltering or murmuring, until they came within two hundred yards of the enemy, when the struggle for life and death commenced...

The letter was published in the March 12, 1864 edition of The Christian Recorder, a weekly newspaper distributed to black regiments.

Heichhold makes a point in his letter that proves he (and more than likely the men with whom he served) were very aware of the historic role in breaking through color barriers as they fought for their own freedom:

Here, on the field of Olustee, was decided whether the colored man had the courage to stand without shelter, and risk the dangers of the battle-field; and when I tell you that they stood with a fire in front, on their flank, and in their rear, for 2 1/2 hours, without flinching, and when I tell you the number of dead and wounded, I have no doubt as to the verdict of every man who has gratitude for the defenders of his country, white or black.

Photo of Surg. Heichhold from the American Civil War Research Database.

"The Happiest Moments of His Life"

Col. Ozora Pierson Stearns (1831-1896) of the Thirty-ninth U.S. Colored Infantry, in an interview with an historian, recounted his participation in the ill-fated Battle of the Crater along the front lines at Petersburg, Virginia, on July 30, 1864. In this excerpt, Stearns' graphic account of the battle caught my attention:

At the mine explosion in front of Petersburg July 30, Colonel Stearns’ regiment was the last to go into the fight after the rebels had rallied and formed a cordon of fire along the whole front. As they were passing the crater, moving by the flank, a cannon-ball took off the head of one of his men near the front of his regiment, and threw the head of the column into some confusion. The air was full of grape canister-shells and minie-balls. The colonel mounted a chunk of clay about three feet high, and drew his sword and shouted to his regiment with a voice that could be heard above the din of the battle, and it immediately came into line and filed past him in excellent order. Those were, he declares, the happiest moments of his life.

The last sentence brought to mind Gen. Robert E. Lee's often repeated quote, "It is well that war is so terrible — lest we should grow too fond of it." I suspect that Stearns, who went on to become a respected judge, serve a stint as U.S. Senator, and become a staunch supporter of women's suffrage, would not have ever wanted to be in such a position of danger again. And yet, it is clear that in that moment at the edge of the Crater, as he stood atop a boulder with a commanding view of the utter chaos unfolding around him in contrast to the orderly procession of his men, he experienced two extreme emotions almost simultaneously, the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat.

How you or I would react to such battlefield stress is an unknown. Would we feel elated, as Stearns recalled in later years, or would we be forever damaged by the experience? Or both?

Stearns' recollection of the Battle of the Crater continues:

When the rebels made their final charge, after nearly the whole line had given way, Colonel Stearns rallied a few men and was holding a short piece of the line just at the right of the crater, when a shell burst, seemingly right in his face, which stunned him for a moment. When he recovered he was alone — all others had fallen or fled. There were some still fighting in the crater. He went into it to see what could be done. He saw it was impossible to hold it. This was just after the Forest massacre. He thought, if captured, he would be hung. He concluded to try and reach the Union lines, one hundred and fifty yards away. As he started, several started with him. They had gone but a few yards when every man that started with him had fallen. In his mind he gave up all hope and said: “Well, you’ve got me now, and you’ll shoot me in the back, but you shan’t shoot me running.” He then stopped running, took out his sword and walked slowly, clipping weeds. He reached the old line of works, leaped over them, and commenced preparing for an expected assault on that line. Just then another shell burst, seemingly in his face. Against his right shoulder was a cavalry soldier and against his left a colored soldier. The shell tore off the shoulder of the cavalry soldier so he could see the beating of his lung, and tore away the chin of the colored soldier. The colonel was unharmed. He lost in this engagement ten officers and one hundred and eighty-five men killed and wounded. His colors had thirteen ball holes through them. His color-bearer, at his request, was voted by congress a medal of honor for bravery in the battle.

— Butterfield, Consul Willshire. “Bench and Bar of Duluth.” Magazine of Western History (March 1889). Photo from Wikipedia.

"Commanded by Black Officers"

On April 11, 1864, J.P. Campbell, Baltimore correspondent for The Christian Recorder, a weekly newspaper distributed to black regiments, wrote about the parade of the Thirty-ninth U.S. Colored Infantry through downtown Baltimore. Of special note is the mention of a black captain, George A. Hackett (1806-1870), a prominent local leader and an activist for African American rights. Hackett was not a member of the Thirty-ninth. It appears he had the honor of riding at the head of the regiment as it marched through the city. This account was published on April 16, 1864:

The 39th Regiment U.S.C.T., had a grand parade on last Thursday. The occasion was, that the Rev. A.W. Wayman, had invited them through Col. Bowman, to his church on that day, to hear a sermon preached for their especial benefit. The Colonel consented to this proposition. They came to Bethel Church, and the sermon was preached by Bro. Wayman. It was well received; and, at the conclusion, a resolution was passed, requesting a copy of the original for publication, to be distributed among the soldiers. the day was pleasant, and hundreds of persons were in attendance upon the occasion. Anxious spectators of both sexes were there, and several gentlemen of the clerical order; among whom, we noticed the Rev. S.H. Chase, an out-spoken advocate for the rights of his race. It would have done your soul good, to have seen our colored Captain, George A. Hackett, mounted upon a white charger, dressed in full military costume, commanding this regiment, marching through the streets of Baltimore, after the heart-cheering notes of a new brigade band, and gazed upon by admiring hosts. They marched, not through the back streets, lanes and alleys, but through the main, the fashionable, and the most aristocratic streets of the city. What a wonderful thing, if not a miracle, to see a regiment of colored soldiers, commanded by black officers, marching through the streets of the city of Baltimore, unmolested by slaveholders and their miserable wretched minions; but so it is, and they cannot prevent it.

Lincoln Looks to Johnson for a Champion

While researching the origins of the Corps d'Afrique, I came across this private letter written by President Abraham Lincoln to then Sen. Andrew Johnson of Tennessee. Lincoln's hope for a quick end to the war by raising regiments of black troops, and his desire to find prominent white leaders to make it happen, is evidenced by its contents:

Executive Mansion
Washington, March 26, 1863

Hon. Andrew Johnson:

My Dear Sir: I am told you have at least thought of raising a negro military force. In my opinion the country now needs no specific thing so much as some man of your ability and position to go to this work. When I speak of your position, I mean that of an eminent citizen of a slave State, and himself a slave-holder. The colored population is the great available, and yet unavailed of, force for restoring the Union. The bare sight of 50,000 armed and drilled black soldiers upon the banks of the Mississippi would end the rebellion at once. And who doubts that we can present that sight if we but take hold in earnest? If you have been thinking of it, please do not dismiss the thought.

Yours, very truly,
A. Lincoln

From The War of the Rebellion: A Compilation of the Official Records of the Union and Confederate Armies, Series III, Volume III, p. 103.

"Preparing for This New Time"

By January 1866, only 200 of the original 1,000 men who enlisted in the Sixty-second U.S. Colored Infantry remained in the ranks. The War Department ordered the ten companies consolidated to four and the reduction of the regiment’s officers.

Two of the discharged officers, Capt. Richard B. Foster and 1st Lt. Aaron M. Adamson, had served in Company I.

According to Capt. Foster, soon after he learned that he would be mustered out of the army, “Lieutenant Adamson was one day talking with me, as comrades about to part will do, of the past and future, when, referring to the fact that many of the enlisted men had learned to read and write, imperfectly of course, while in the service, I remarked that it was a pity these men should find no schools when they returned to Missouri,” from where they had enlisted in 1863.

Both men reflected on the transformation of the enlisted men with whom they served. “No more shall the auction block be mounted by human chattels. No more shall education be forbidden and virtue be impossible for any part of our population. The fugitive slave law is behind us. Universal suffrage is before us.”

The conversation brought to the surface a question that burned within Foster: “Have I any special work to do, however humble, in preparing for this new time?”

1st Lt. Adamson supplied the answer: “If our regiment will give money enough to start a school in Missouri, will you take charge of it?”

Foster eventually answered in the affirmative. The officers and men raised $1,379.50, and Foster went on to establish Lincoln Institute in Jefferson City, Missouri. Today, it is known as Lincoln University.

Read Foster's historical sketch of the founding of the school.

National Archives Staffer Goes Above and Beyond the Call of Duty

I was caught off guard a couple weeks back after an unexpected package arrived from the National Archives. Inside I found photocopies of the military service record for a soldier who served in the Fifty-sixth U.S. Colored Infantry.

A few weeks earlier, I had requested his file only to learn that the MSRs from his regiment are part of an eighteen regiment group (Forty-seventh to Sixty-fifth) of files currently closed to researchers because Archives staff is microfilming them. A supervisor in the Archives library asked me to leave my address in the event that they might be able to help. While I appreciated her proactive suggestion, her tentative manner lowered my expectations and convinced me that nothing would come of my request. I resigned myself to the reality that it might be years before the file would appear in microfilm.

The arrival of the package surprised and delighted me. It also encouraged me to make a new request for the file of another soldier in the closed group — a sergeant from the Sixty-second. On Friday, I stopped by the Archives library and filled out the appropriate form. By coincidence I met the very person who mailed me the package, Dennis Edelin. He instantly recognized my name and asked me if there were any problems with the package he sent. Dennis promised to pull the file of the other soldier and send it to me.

The Archives staff could have easily rejected my request and forced me to wait for microfilming to finish — a scenario that would likely have prevented the stories of these two soldiers from ever making it into the book. But thanks to Dennis Edelin, their stories will be told and their images seen.

Thank you, Dennis.

Visiting Owens Dawson

Researching the life and times of Q.M. Sgt. Owens Dawson of the Twenty-fifth U.S. Colored Infantry has provided me an opportunity to get to know a man who died fifty-nine years before my birth. I've imagined him waiting on tables in a Philadelphia restaurant before the war, marching to the sound of drum and fife on the drill ground at Camp William Penn, mourning the untimely death of his first wife, traveling to Washington, D.C., to begin a new life, and, in his dotage, chatting up aged veterans at a Grand Army of the Republic reunion.

Today, I visited his grave site at Arlington National Cemetery, located a few miles from my home. I enjoyed a quiet moment to reflect on a life of joy and sorrow, in service of country, for the betterment of our nation.

Little could he have imagined that 105 years after his death that I would be standing at his grave site, snapping pictures of a cool marble slab that marks the spot where his earthly remains lie undisturbed, a silent stone witness to the memory of a man.

Kendrick Allen, Buffalo Soldier

A note penned on the back of the carte de visite of Kendrick Allen, written by his commanding officer, praises him as an excellent soldier — a fine compliment to an eighteen-year-old sergeant new to soldiering in the 108th U.S. Colored Infantry. Allen served in the regiment from 1864 until 1866.

Five years later he returned to the military, this time in the regular army as a corporal in the Twenty-fourth U.S. Infantry, one of the Buffalo Soldier regiments. He later transferred to the Ninth Cavalry and retired as a sergeant in 1897.

This the first Buffalo Soldier I've documented. If you have any information about Sgt. Allen, please contact me.

Road Trip to Connecticut

New Haven is home to Yale University's Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library. Among its extensive holdings are a number of excellent African American images, mostly from the Randolph Linsly Simpson collection. Many of these images are available by searching the library's online database. However, a handful were not, and I determined to travel to New Haven to view them.

I had it in mind to visit in August, but did not have a firm date planned until my friend Pete reminded me that New Haven is close to the home of our mutual friend Dave. Also that New Haven is home to two of America's finest pizza places, Frank Pepe Pizzeria Napoletana and Sally's Apizza Restaurant.

A plan formed: Drive to Connecticut on Sunday, pick up Dave, and have dinner at Sally's. Monday at the Beinecke followed by late lunch at Pepe's, then drive home.

The trip was a complete success. The Beinecke staff were exceptionally courteous and helpful. The handful of images I came to see included one excellent carte de visite of a first sergeant and fifer from the Sixty-seventh U.S. Colored Infantry. Added to the other images I had previously found in the Simpson collection, all men from the Twenty-ninth Connecticut and 108th U.S. Colored infantries, I left the library after having made arrangements to receive high-resolution scans of thirty photographs — a staggering total from a single source. I like to think the photograph shown here of me in front of the Beinecke with my hands forming the big 3-0 celebrates the moment.

As for the pizza, that too became a research project. Dave, Pete and I ordered a white pie with clams and tomato pie with sausage and pepperoni from each restaurant. We unanimously agreed on the winner: Sally's. Each of Sally's pies, with ingredients fused into a complex flavor profile that includes the perfect thin, crunchy crust, easily won the day. Sally's was worth the wait, two hours from the time we lined up until the first pizza made it to our table. Pepe's had the advantage on three counts: Aromatic and richly-flavored sausage, ambiance inside the restaurant, and service. But these factors were not enough to put Pepe's over the top.

Special thanks to the guy at Sally's who held our place in line while we grabbed a quick beer!

Seeking the Story Behind an Iconic Image

The Chicago Historical Society possesses one of the finest collections of African American soldier photographs that I've ever seen. Of these twenty-seven terrific tintypes, one is identified: Sgt. James L. Baldwin of the Fifty-sixth U.S. Colored Infantry. His iconic image, shown here, has appeared in numerous publications.

All the published examples of Baldwin's likeness I've found include the briefest of captions. It is for this reason that he will be included in my book. I want to tell his story. I started researching his life and military service yesterday and found that he started the war with the Third Arkansas Infantry (African Descent). Government authorities later designated the regiment as the Fifty-sixth. Baldwin applied for a disability pension in 1889.

I look forward to learning more about him, and providing a fresh take on this image by providing details of his war service. If you have any information to share, please comment.

Mystery Plantation

Alluva. Alliva. Altura.

These are a few of the variations I used to search for a Mississippi plantation referenced in a document contained in the pension file of Sgt. Silas Brown, who served in Company I of the Ninety-Sixth U.S. Colored Infantry. The penmanship of the individual who prepared the document (a clerk, as Johnson could not write) is not easily transcribed, and I struggled with this single pronoun.

The document did provide the location of the plantation: In Yazoo County, Miss., along the Yazoo River near Belle Prairie. I also learned that the plantation was owned by Dr. C.N. Brown and his wife, Lou.

Determined to find the name of the plantation, I called the president of the local historical society. She referred me to past president Sam Olden, grandson of a Confederate veteran captured at Vicksburg. Olden recommended me to John Ellzey of the B.S. Ricks Memorial Library in Yazoo City.

I called Ellzey, a soft-spoken man with a smooth regional accent, and told him what I had learned and what I hoped to find out. After a brief pause, he told me the details sounded familiar. Within a couple minutes, Ellzey supplied the name of the plantation: Alterra.

Ellzey followed up with a package of materials, including period maps showing the property and two death notices for Lou Brown.

Ellzey's knowledge of the area and the wealth of local information is critical to my efforts to tell the stories of soldiers who served in the war. He is one of the many unsung heroes I regularly encounter along the research trail who provide critical details that help bring life to these veterans.

MIA: Nimrod Burke, 23rd USCT

Nimrod Burke stares into the camera, dressed in his army uniform complete with corporal's chevrons and holding a revolver. Burke, a soldier in the Twenty-third U.S. Colored Infantry (USCT), is the great-great grandfather of Henry Robert Burke, an author and historian in Marietta, Ohio.

Some years ago, Burke arranged to have a photograph made of the original image of his Civil War ancestor. A scan of this photograph is pictured here, and on a web page profile of the veteran. The original image, which appears to be a sixth plate tintype, was owned by Burke's cousin.

Today, the location of the original photograph is unknown.

One possible scenario is that the image was purchased by or given to well-known collector Jerry Duvall. On Duvall's passing, his collection was quickly dispersed. This photo may have been sold to a coin collector, at auction, or at the Ohio Civil War Show in Mansfield. I suspect the image is in the hands of a private collector who may or may not know the name of the soldier.

The leads I've pursued have dried up. If you know of the whereabouts of this original image, please let me know. I want to use this photograph in my forthcoming book, but am unable to do so without permission from the owner.

New Jersey Soldier

I started to research the life and military service of Pvt. Benjamin Benson, Company C, Twentieth U.S. Colored Infantry. Benson was born a free man in Bergen County, New Jersey, where he resided all his life — with the exception of his two years in the army. Benson's New Jersey connection was a pleasant surprise, for we both were born in the Garden State.

I look forward to learning more about Benson and the Twentieth, a regiment formed in early 1864 and deployed to Louisiana, Texas and Tennessee.

Benson's portrait photograph is one of two identified African American cartes de visite shared by Don Wisoski, author of The Opportunity Is At Hand: Oneida County, New York, Colored Soldiers in the Civil War. I've enjoyed getting to know Don. His cheery, upbeat attitude and passion for Civil War photography has made for several enjoyable conversations, and a new friendship.

Searching for Three Soldiers from the Sixty-Second

Spoke with the archivist at Lincoln University in Jefferson City, Missouri, after finding an online image of Jacob Anderson of the Sixty-second U.S. Colored Infantry credited to their institution. Turns out the university has tightly-cropped copy prints of Anderson, Nelson Burgamire and John Jeffreys — all soldiers in the Sixty-second. The archivist does not know the whereabouts of the original images.

Am hoping someone can help!