Stark Mad Abolitionists

by Robert K. Sutton

  Not only did the people of Lawrence welcome soldiers, they continued to roll out the welcome mat to fugitive slaves. The trickle of escapees seeking refuge before the war soon became a flood when the war started. While the principal aim for the Union at the beginning of the war was to reunite North and South, to the enslaved population the war had only one aim, and that was the end of slavery. Many had no intention of waiting to see what happened. They decided instead to use their own initiatives to seek freedom. Slave owners in Missouri and Arkansas quickly understood that the hold on their human property was tenuous, and many sold their enslaved people as quickly and for as much as possible. For their part, slaves just as quickly understood that if they were placed on the auction block, they would likely be sent to the Deep South with virtually no chance for freedom. Thus, their incentive to escape was stronger than ever, and they understood that if they could somehow make it to a free state, their freedom was almost ensured. If they could find their way to Lawrence, not only would they likely gain their freedom, but also the townsfolk would help them transition from slavery to freedom. They came to Lawrence in droves. John B. Wood wrote to his friend George L. Stearns in Boston that in early November 1861, “131 [fugitives] came into Lawrence in ten days, [and] yesterday [November 18] 27 had arrived by 2:00 p.m.”213 By 1865, there were 933 African Americans living in Lawrence and an additional 1,145 living in Douglas County, which made up a little more than 13 percent of the county’s total population of 15,814.

  When the fugitives arrived in Lawrence, most had only the clothes on their backs, and in many cases those were rags. “They were strong and industrious,” Rev. Cordley wrote, “and by a little effort, work was found for them and very few, if any of them, became objects of charity.” But while they were eager to make their new lives in freedom, they needed help translating their industriousness into livelihoods. Nearly all were illiterate because most slaveholding states had strict laws making it illegal to teach slaves to read or write. Fugitives arriving in Lawrence equated learning with liberty, so their thirst for education was overwhelming. But the town’s fine educational system was not able to accommodate the number of eager new students.

  Mr. S. N. Simpson, one of the town’s 1855 pioneers, had started the first Sunday schools in town when he arrived, and he conceived a system of education for the fugitives based on his Sunday school model. Classes would be taught by volunteers in the evenings, and the curriculum would include basic reading, writing, and arithmetic, along with lectures designed to help them establish themselves in the community. The people of Lawrence were as excited to teach as their students were excited to learn, and enough volunteers were available to split the first class of about one hundred men and women into groups of six or eight.214

  Josiah C. Trask, the editor of the Lawrence State Journal, spent an evening in January 1862 visiting the school and devoted an article to his observations. Eighty-three students, taught by twenty-seven teachers, met in the courthouse. “One young man who had been to the school only five nights,” Trask wrote, “began with the alphabet, [and] now spells in words of two syllables.” He observed that there was a class of little girls, “eager and restless,” a class of grown men, “solemn and earnest,” a class of “maidens in their teens,” and “another of elderly women.” Trask observed that the students were “straining forward with all their might, as if they could not learn fast enough.” He concluded, observing that all eighty-three students came to class each evening “after working hard all day to earn their bread,” while the twenty-seven teachers, “some of them our most cultivated and refined ladies and gentlemen,” labored night after night, “voluntarily and without compensation.” It was “a sight not often seen.”215

  Many in Lawrence were also concerned about the spiritual welfare of the new arrivals. Rev. Cordley, with his seminary training, was concerned that many black ministers of the fugitive community were illiterate, and thus did not have a solid grounding in the scriptures. In time, Rev. Cordley and others recognized that while the former slaves might not understand the nuances of the Bible, they were nonetheless solid in their Christian beliefs. Before long, black churches—most of them small, others larger—sprang up in the area. In March 1862, Rev. Cordley convinced his congregation to establish the African American Second Congregational Church in Lawrence, whose members were escaped slaves. Eventually, the members called themselves “Freedmen’s Church.” As Rev. Cordley was helping organize the church, one member joined for himself and his wife. When asked where his wife was, he replied that “his wife and children were sold down South before I got away.” He hoped he would find his wife, and thus joined for her. Rev. Cordley’s postscript to this story was: “we have seldom seen Slavery in so odious an aspect.” The church grew from a handful of members, who were all escaped slaves, to nearly one hundred attendees in a couple of years.216

  African American men were willing, able, and passionate to join the Union forces and fight. Their chance would come later. The volunteer soldiers training in Lawrence, on the other hand, were taught the basics of their new craft and were soon sent into Missouri to practice what they had just learned.

  In Missouri, the political hierarchy of Governor Claiborne Fox Jackson, a strong pro-slavery Democrat, as well as a majority of the state legislators, strongly favored secession. On the other side, Congressman Francis P. Blair Jr., whose brother was the Postmaster General of the United States, and whose father was a close confidant of President Lincoln, determined to do everything in his power to keep Missouri in the Union. Blair succeeded in keeping Missouri in the Union because the mostly pro-Union delegates to the convention, who were to consider whether the state should remain in the Union or leave, voted to stay. But Governor Jackson and his colleagues were not willing to concede. Jackson recruited Sterling Price, a veteran of the Mexican War and a former governor, to lead the pro-Confederate militia forces in Missouri. On the Union side, Blair orchestrated the appointment of twenty-year military veteran and staunchly pro-Union Captain Nathaniel Lyon as overall commander of Union forces in Missouri. Thus, with the pro-Union and the pro-Confederacy sides jockeying for position and dominance, in the spring and summer of 1861, Missouri was one of the hottest battlegrounds in the country.

  Lyon was promoted to the rank of brigadier general, and in June and early July, he and his forces drove Governor Jackson and the secessionist legislature out of the state capital, Jefferson City, and kept up the momentum, driving them into the southwest corner of the state. But Lyon’s actions so incensed Missouri fence-sitters, many joined the Confederate side, so that Price’s army eventually grew to about eight thousand Missourians. To shore up the Confederate side, Price was joined by Confederate Major General Ben McCulloch and his force of some five thousand Arkansans, Texans, and other southerners. As Lyon learned that the Confederate numbers were growing, dramatically outnumbering his small force of four thousand Missourians and regular army soldiers, he asked for help from anywhere, and the 1st and 2nd Kansas volunteers answered his call and marched to join him near Springfield, Missouri.

  Lt. Levant L. Jones, a resident of Lawrence and an officer in Company F of the 1st Kansas, traced the journey of his regiment in letters home to his wife, Hattie, who was staying with her father in Olathe, Kansas. On June 8, he reported that the regiment stopped at a camp near Austin, Missouri. He was appointed judge advocate for his company, which included a bonus of $2 a day in extra pay. In his new role, he swore in sixty-four new recruits to his regiment. As Jones and his comrades continued on their journey to meet up with Brigadier General Lyon, he sensed that a battle would happen soon, but he was convinced that Union forces would “whip them, beyond any doubt.” As the impending battle loomed, however, Lt. Jones recognized his own mortality: “if it shall be my fate to fall, to die in defense of my beloved country and of the noble principles which now find expression in the administration of its government, I can die contented so far as giving up my own life is concerned.”

  The 1st
and 2nd Kansas finally joined up with Brigadier General Lyon and the rest of the Union Army, made up of four Missouri regiments and the First Iowa regiment, making a total of about six thousand men. Jones noted that Colonel Deitzler was named brigade commander over the 1st and 2nd Kansas, the First Iowa, and a small detachment of Illinois soldiers. By August 8, a major battle was imminent. Lieutenant Jones wrote his wife that the Union forces were outnumbered nearly two to one, but because his side was “drilled, disciplined, and well armed,” he was confident of victory. Still, he let his wife know that as he was “about to go into action, because I wish you to have my last words and thoughts—my life now belongs to my country, but my heart belongs to you.” And he wanted to assure her that his brother would care for her if he fell in battle.

  The next day, August 9, Lieutenant Jones was far more upbeat. He had just received a letter from Hattie which lifted his spirits immeasurably. “I shall not serve longer than October,” he wrote, “and if the campaign is not then over, I shall resign, and come back to you, to home and to business.” Later that night, Jones and the Union Army moved into position to attack the Confederate Army along a small stream about fifteen miles south of Springfield, Missouri, called Wilson’s Creek.217

  In the days before the battle, Brigadier General Lyon hoped the Confederate forces would attack his fortified position near Springfield. They did not, and Lyon became more and more concerned that the combined Confederate Army would continue to grow, and that he would be in an untenable position. So he decided to go on the offensive. He devised a plan that defied military logic, but almost worked. He split his forces, ordering Colonel Franz Sigel and his Second Brigade of about 1,200 men to attack from the south, or the rear of the enemy, while he led the remaining brigades from the north against the main force. For any chance of success, the attacks from both sides needed to be coordinated. Initially, Sigel overran the Confederate cavalry camps, and he started rolling up everyone in his front. Lyon had equal success overrunning the camps in his front and taking the high ground, which was later called “Bloody Hill.”

  But when Price and McCulloch finally put the Confederate troops in motion, they pushed Sigel back and eventually routed his forces. After attacks and counterattacks, in which Lyon was killed, the Union forces, then under command of Major Sturgis, finally withdrew from the field—they were dangerously low on ammunition. Since the Confederates held the field at the end of the day, it was a Confederate victory, but both sides were battered. Lyon was the first Union general killed in battle. The Union had 1,317 casualties, with 258 killed, 873 wounded, and 186 missing; for the Confederates, there were over 1,232 casualties, 277 killed, 945 wounded, and at least 10 missing.218 While the tab for killed and wounded was not as high as Battle of Manassas (Bull Run) in Virginia a couple of weeks earlier, the results indicated that the war would be fought in multiple theaters, it would be bloody, and, although most did not realize it at the time, it would be a long, drawn-out affair.

  Lithograph of Battle of Wilson’s Creek. Library of Congress.

  Eight days after the battle, Edward R. Nash, the adjutant for the 1st Kansas, wrote a letter to Hattie Jones. It began as did many letters, written by many soldiers after many battles. Nash wrote: “it becomes my painful duty to inform you of the death of your husband, and my friend. He was killed in the battle of Wilson’s Creek on the 10th instant.” He continued: “he [Lieutenant Jones] suddenly said to Joe Gilliford, who was at his side, ‘Joe I am shot.’ Joe asked ‘where?’ Jones’s answer was ‘in my hip.’ Just at that moment a ball came whizzing by Joe’s ear—he turned his head quickly and saw Jones fall, shot again in the left breast in the region of the heart by a Minnie [sic] ball.” Nash continued, saying that on the long journey from Kansas to Wilson’s Creek, Lieutenant Jones, on numerous occasions, predicted his own death, but Jones asked Nash: “if I go under and you come out safe, I want you to write to Hattie and tell her my last thought was for her.”219

  Lieutenant Jones was one of seventy-seven members of the 1st Kansas killed in the battle. Another 255 were wounded. Six hundred and forty-four men and officers went into battle with the 1st Kansas, and 332, or over half of the regiment, were casualties.220 The 1st Kansas was one of the lead regiments in the attack and caught the brunt of the Confederate counterattack. The 2nd Kansas was held in reserve, with the exception of Captain Wood’s Company I, which was mounted infantry. In the heat of battle, the Second was called to the front, and according to an eyewitness, “stood firm, and met the enemy, handled him so roughly that he soon fell back in confusion.” For the 2nd Kansas, the best estimates are that five were killed, fifty-nine were wounded, and six were missing, for a total of seventy casualties.221

  Reports from the battle reached Lawrence two weeks later, and the Lawrence Republican published an article, “The Martyrs of Freedom,” listing the casualties of the 1st Kansas. It drew particular attention to Lieutenant Jones’s death, saying he “was a man of brilliant intellect and a good heart.” The article also noted that Caleb B. Pratt, the city clerk, was killed, as was Lewis T. Litchfield, who left behind a wife and child. The article concluded by saying, “their names will be long remembered as heroes whose every pulsation was for the freedom and honor of their country.”222

  Levant Jones, Caleb Pratt, and Lewis Litchfield were all part of the regular Kansas militia. They readily volunteered to fight as part of the Union Army, with the primary purpose of reuniting the country. There was another Kansas military contingent that, in addition to bringing the nation back together, was equally passionate that the institution of slavery needed to be annihilated wherever it existed. Their name has become synonymous with Kansas over the years—the Jayhawkers.

  12 Don’t Turn Your Back on This Bird

  SHORTLY AFTER THE SOON-TO-BE MEMBERS of Company G—the “Union Guards”—of the 2nd Kansas Volunteer Infantry Regiment arrived in Lawrence from Leavenworth, one of the members wrote that “Captain Jennison’s mounted company of Jay Hawkers came up and greeted us with their cheers.” He further noted that “Captain Jennison’s company is about 120 strong, well mounted, and under good discipline for the short time they have been under drill.” He went on to say that “they are strongly attached to the Captain, and say that should they fail to get into regular service, they will ‘go on their own hook.’” Jennison and his men accompanied the regiment on the first leg of its journey to Kansas City as it traveled toward Wilson’s Creek, but were not mustered in (included into the regiment) and returned home.

  The Jayhawkers were a group of armed abolitionists who were willing to do anything to rid the country of the scourge of slavery. For years, they had operated as extra-legal vigilantes in southern Kansas, near the Missouri border, during the Bleeding Kansas period and they were absolutely devoted to their commander, Charles Jennison. At this early stage of the war, Union commanders did not know what to do with the Jayhawkers. The military hierarchy in Kansas was nervous about Jennison and his men for several reasons. First, they were concerned that the Jayhawkers were so devoted to their leader that they might follow his orders even if they were counter to the Union war objectives. Second, Jennison’s superiors feared that Jayhawkers’ antislavery passions were so strong, they might go rogue—as guerrillas—and fight their own war against slave owners in Missouri, which at this early part of the conflict was at odds with the Union war aim of reuniting the nation.

  Dr. Charles R. Jennison. Wikimedia Commons. Public domain.

  Guerrilla warfare, in which small groups of combatants—throughout history—have used irregular military tactics, such as ambushes, sabotage, raids, and hit-and-run attacks to hit traditional military or other targets, was of great concern to Union commanders in the border area of Kansas and Missouri. It was critical to keep Missouri in the Union, and anything that could give the citizens reasons to secede, such as guerrilla attacks on pro-slavery targets by the Jayhawkers, could not be tolerated.

  University of Kansas sports fans will immediately recogn
ize that the name of their teams, the “Jayhawks,” comes from Jennison and his men. But the origin of the name Jayhawkers is shrouded in mystery. Several explanations have been offered over the years. Some suggest the critter is a mythical bird, like the phoenix.223 When Irish immigrant Pat Devlin was asked where he had acquired two fine horses on one of his adventures along the Kansas and Missouri border, Devlin replied that he “got them as the Jayhawk gets its birds in Ireland…. In Ireland a bird, which is called the Jayhawk, flies about after dark, seeking the roosts and nests of smaller birds, and not only robs nests of eggs, but frequently kills the birds.”224 The University of Kansas, long ago, abbreviated the name to Jayhawks as the teams’ mascot. According to the school, “the name combines two birds—the blue jay, a noisy quarrelsome thing known to rob other nests, and the sparrow hawk, a stealthy hunter. The message here: don’t turn your back on this bird.”225

  The origin of the term Jayhawker remains a mystery, but who the men were who rode under that name and what they did was not. Another reporter, writing in 1863, observed that “Jayhawkers, Red Legs, and Bushwhackers are everyday terms in Kansas and Western Missouri.” He concluded that “they are all lawless and indiscriminate in their iniquities.”226

  Dr. Charles Jennison, who led the company of Jayhawkers into Lawrence, was born in Antwerp, New York, in 1834. When he was twelve, his family moved to Wisconsin, where, at the age of nineteen, he studied medicine. At age twenty, he married Mary Hopkins, and after spending some time in Minnesota, he moved to Osawatomie, Kansas, in 1857. In the fall of 1858, he settled permanently in Mound City, where he established a flourishing medical practice.227 At some point, Jennison became a radical abolitionist, and not long after he arrived in Mound City, he met James Montgomery, whose hatred of slavery was equal to his.