Stark Mad Abolitionists

by Robert K. Sutton

  One of the most important businesses up and running again was the Lawrence State Journal newspaper office. The Journal appeared again on October 1, 1863, with the headline: “To Our Patrons. This is a juvenile Kansas State Journal. Next week we promise it shall look better.” Mr. H. E. Lowman, the editor, reported that the offices were in a cellar. He asked for the good people of Kansas to subscribe for $2 a year, and asked any who had subscriptions that had not expired before the raid to notify him so their newspapers would continue. Lowman also sounded the optimism for a bigger and better town. “Lawrence,” he wrote, “expands into brick and mortar walls. We [the newspaper, will] develop into power presses and printing material.”292

  In the November 12, 1863 edition of the State Journal, the editor reported that a new steam-powered press had arrived from Chicago, and that he hoped he could start publishing a daily newspaper when the press was in operation. In the same edition, the paper reported that a telegraph line was connected to his office for instant national news. In the news department, the paper reported that the long-awaited bridge across the Kansas River—which was under construction and damaged in the raid—was nearly complete. Further, the railroad, which would revolutionize transportation for Lawrence, was still scheduled for completion by January 1864. A week later, in the November 19 edition of the Journal, the editor noted that he toured the town and reported that 137 buildings were either under construction, rebuilt, or completed after the raid. Some were small, temporary structures, mostly for the laborers and mechanics who were helping to rebuild the town. Yet many were underway, built with stone and brick, “that would be an ornament to any city.”293

  Even John Speer, who lost two sons in the raid, put a positive spin on Lawrence’s future when his newspaper, the Kansas Daily Tribune, started up again in December 1863. “Hurrah for Lawrence,” Speers wrote. He continued: “Talking about a Phoenix arising from its ashes … Lawrence has done it…. One hundred and forty new houses already gone up, and business flourishing like a green bay tree. Bridges, railroads, and other little matters attended to, and now a daily paper, The Tribune, in full blast.”294

  There was a great deal of optimism for the town and its future. But the human condition is such that it was impossible for everyone to simply ignore what had happened and move on. The nearly one-third of the population who left after the massacre clearly were not looking toward the bright future in Lawrence. For the families of the two hundred victims—the ones who remained in town—life was going to be difficult for some time. Then there were some who simply could not cope with what had happened. Kansas historian Katie Armitage described one such Lawrence resident in a recent article in Kansas History. Fred Read lost his store and everything in it, valued at $10,000. His wife, Amelia, was the woman from whom one of Quantrill’s men took a bracelet that had belonged to their deceased infant daughter. Read and his wife survived, and she saved their house although the guerrillas had tried to burn it to the ground. So, while the Reads’ financial losses were devastating, they had their home and they had each other. But not long after Quantrill and his men left town, Fred Read crawled into a liquor bottle and did not crawl out again for several weeks. His wife was so concerned about his health that she had him locked up in the city jail to dry him out. The story did, however, have a happy ending. Read was released from jail, quickly recovered from his inebriated state, rebuilt his business—it was far more successful than before the raid—served on the city council, and became a leading force and was successful in obtaining relief funds from the state for Lawrence residents impacted by Quantrill’s Raid.295

  Quantrill doubtless was on the minds of many Lawrence residents as they rebuilt their town. He most definitely was in the constant thoughts of Brigadier General Ewing. After the raid, the general remained in command in the border region. August 1863 had been a horrendous month for him. His plan to arrest and imprison women who supported the guerrillas was a disaster. Quantrill had pulled together one of the largest bands of guerrillas to nearly obliterate Lawrence. His trusted aide, Major Plumb, failed to capture Quantrill and his men. On August 25, Ewing issued his General Order No. 11 in the hopes of—once and for all—ending the guerrillas’ reign of terror on the Missouri-Kansas border.

  His order stated that “all persons living in Jackson, Cass, and Bates counties, Missouri, and in that part of Vernon included in this district, [with some exceptions] are hereby ordered to remove from their present places of residence within fifteen days from the date hereof.” Inhabitants who could “establish their loyalty to the satisfaction of the commanding officer of the military station near their present place of residence will receive from him a certificate stating the fact of their loyalty, and the names of the witnesses by whom it can be shown.” These individuals or families were required to move “to any military station in this district, or to any part of the State of Kansas, except the counties of the eastern border of the State. All others shall remove out of the district.” In other words, all residents in the area identified in the order, whether loyal to the Union or not, were required to move.296

  Ewing hoped to achieve several objectives with his order. First, he wanted to preempt Jim Lane, who was threatening to raise a huge army to obliterate everything and nearly everyone with any connection to the Confederacy in the border areas of Missouri. Second, he thought that by removing everyone—loyal and disloyal citizens—from the border area, all support for the guerrillas would vanish. Third, he believed that by placing the army in charge of carrying out this order, he could keep the Kansas Jayhawkers, and the more radical and brutal faction—the Red Legs—away from wreaking vengeance on Missourians.

  His first goal was successful. Lane raised an army of about one thousand Kansans who were heading toward the border, but Ewing sent his troops to meet them at the border, and Lane backed off. His second objective was partially successful, but mostly not. As loyal and disloyal residents were forced to leave their homes and farms, they left behind hay, grain, farm animals, and smokehouses full of meat. The intent was for the army to either gather or destroy everything, but the soldiers were so busy moving people, they did not have time to take care of anything else. So, in the short term, the guerrillas helped themselves to the abundance of food, forage, and animals. Finally, although Ewing’s intention was to move residents, he wanted the houses and outbuildings to remain intact so that when hostilities ended, the Missourians could return to their homes with everything pretty much intact. This backfired almost completely, for most of his soldiers were Kansans who were so incensed with the Lawrence Massacre, they destroyed and burned many houses, barns, and other outbuildings.

  Caleb Bingham, who despised Ewing even before the collapse of his building with the makeshift jail for female “belligerents,” grew even more vocal in his hatred after the general issued General Order No. 11. He wrote a letter to Ewing, saying that if he went ahead with his order he would make the general “infamous with pen and brush.” Bingham did just that, and in 1868, he painted his famous General Order No. 11, showing the harsh treatment Missourians suffered under the order. He also used his pen, and several years later, he wrote a letter to the editor of the St. Louis Republican describing the exodus of Missourians. “Dense columns of smoke arising in every direction marked the conflagrations of dwellings,” he wrote, “many of the evidences of which are yet to be seen in the remains of seared and blackened chimneys, standing as melancholy monuments of a ruthless military despotism which spared neither age, sex, character, nor condition.”297

  George Caleb Bingham, Order No. 11. Cincinnati Art Museum.

  Finally, Ewing’s Order No. 11 did nothing to lead to the capture of Quantrill and his men. They managed to reach Missouri following the raid, losing only a handful of their compatriots. As had become their practice, when they reached Missouri, the men scattered. With Union patrols moving residents from their homes and looking for the bushwhackers, Quantrill and his men were constantly on the move. They hid during the day and he
lped themselves to the food and forage left behind by the exiles at night. By the end of September 1863, after a couple of close calls with federal soldiers, Quantrill and most of his men decided to head south for the winter. Some stayed behind in Missouri, but about four hundred guerrillas—including new recruits—followed Quantrill. On their way to Indian Territory (present-day Oklahoma), the lead party of bushwhackers, under the command of one of Quantrill’s lieutenants, Dave Poole, came across a recently constructed Union fort at Baxter Springs. Many of the white and African American federal troops were outside the fort eating their lunch, and Poole and his men decided to attack. Poole sent word back to Quantrill that his men had initiated the attack, and as the main party of guerrillas was heading toward Baxter Springs, they encountered a large wagon train of Union soldiers. The wagons, as it turned out, were escorting Union Major General James G. Blunt, who was on his way from Fort Scott to Fort Smith in Arkansas. Blunt later reported that since Quantrill and his men “were dressed in blue uniform[s] and carried our [the Union] flag, they were at first supposed to be federal troops, but a doubt arising as to whether they were friends or enemies, I approached their line, alone, to ascertain their true character, and when within three hundred yards of them, they opened a fire on me.” Blunt then ordered his escort and accompanying troops “to return the fire and charge their [the guerrilla] line, [but] I discovered that the entire escort (who were new recruits) had broken at the first fire of the enemy, and were flying in disorder over the prairie.” What Blunt did not report was that he was barely able to escape on his magnificent horse, but was forced to leave behind his belongings, including his sword and general’s commission. Blunt did, however, report that “in this affair eighty-seven men, including escort, clerks, teamsters, servants, and musicians were killed. All who fell wounded or were taken prisoners were inhumanely murdered.”298 Quantrill lost only two men.

  The guerrillas made their way to Texas, where they set up their winter camp. When Quantrill and his men arrived in Texas, many of the animosities that had been brewing between the bushwhackers rose to the surface. Some felt guilty for their participation in the Lawrence Massacre. They had no problem killing Union soldiers, especially Jayhawkers and Red Legs, but the wanton massacre of innocent civilians was too much. Others were upset with how Quantrill was managing his followers. They had understood that the plunder from Lawrence and other raids would be distributed among the dispossessed and destitute families who had suffered during the war, only to find that Quantrill allowed and even encouraged the spoils to be distributed among the bushwhackers, with the lion’s share going to some of his lieutenants. And still others were just plain tired of living the transient life of guerrillas. They seldom slept in the same place for more than a night or so, and they generally had made their beds in their remote hideouts. Plus, they missed their families and homes.

  About forty members of the band left. Some, such as Bill Gregg, left to join up with the regular Confederate Army. Cole Younger accepted an appointment to go into New Mexico Territory on a mission to recruit new Confederate soldiers, which was a complete failure. He continued on his journey to California, ending up in San Francisco, where he spent the remainder of the war living with his uncle.

  In addition to the unease among bushwhackers, many Confederate commanders were uncomfortable in the presence of Quantrill and his men in or near their encampments. Major General Sterling Price liked Quantrill and approved of his exploits, but other Confederate leaders thought the bushwhackers were no better than common criminals and wanted nothing to do with them. To control the guerrillas, Price listened to his lieutenants and ordered Quantrill to re-form his men under a more orderly command, reducing the number of guerrillas to eighty-four, with Quantrill at the head with three lieutenants under him.

  But the discipline this structure implied quickly dissolved. Since their earliest encounters and partnership, Quantrill and “Bloody Bill” Anderson had maintained an uneasy peace. It did not take long for their partnership to evaporate. Quantrill had one of Anderson’s men killed for thievery, which so incensed Anderson that he took his followers and left. The breakup was so complete, Quantrill’s and Anderson’s men even engaged in several skirmishes while in Texas. Things went from bad to worse for Quantrill. In a heated argument with George Todd—who had been one of his lieutenants from the earliest days—Quantrill was humiliated and surrendered his command to Todd. Quantrill left Texas with a small contingent of his followers and went into hiding in Missouri.299

  Jesse James (age seventeen) as member of Quantrill/Anderson Guerrillas. AF Eisenbahn Archive, Alamy Stock Photo.

  In the spring of 1864, the bushwhackers, now under the separate commands of Anderson and Todd, headed back to Missouri. A new recruit joined Anderson’s band—Frank James’s sixteen-year-old kid brother, Jesse. The teenager had been itching to join the guerrillas for some time and was finally allowed to do so. Jesse James quickly learned the ways of the guerrillas and took full part in the attacks, which were more frequent and bloody than in the past.

  Late in the summer of 1864, the bushwhackers joined forces with Major General Price, who led a small army into Missouri, attempting to reestablish a Confederate presence in the state. Price’s first target was St. Louis, where he planned to capture the large Union arsenal there. The city and garrison were too heavily armed, so he moved on to his next objective, Jefferson City, the state capital, which was also well defended. Price skirted these two cities and started heading west. Brigadier General Thomas Ewing Jr. followed Price, and on the morning of September 27, Price turned and attacked the federals, driving them into the defenses at Fort Davidson, near Pilot Knob. Technically Price won this battle because after repeated assaults, the Union soldiers pulled out of Fort Davidson that night, blowing up the fort’s powder magazine. But the victory was costly for Price; he lost many more men than his Union counterparts, gaining virtually nothing of military value.

  The same day Price was attacking Fort Davidson, “Bloody Bill” Anderson orchestrated a massacre that added to his reputation for brutality. Anderson and his men were in Centralia, Missouri, dressed in blue Union uniforms as was their custom. While there, a passenger train pulled in to the station with 125 passengers—civilians and soldiers—on board. Anderson called for an officer to step off the train. Sergeant Thomas Goodman bravely obeyed, thinking that he would be shot, but he hoped that the remaining soldiers would be spared. Instead, Anderson ignored Goodman, and he and his eighty guerrillas killed the remaining twenty-two soldiers who were heading home on leave after the Battle of Atlanta. Each was shot multiple times, mutilated, scalped, then thrown back on the train, which was set on fire and sent on down the tracks. Goodman was held as a prisoner for ten days, but managed to escape.

  The telegraph operator in Centralia sent a message reporting the attack, and later that afternoon, Union Major A. V. E. Johnston, with 155 men of the newly formed 39th Missouri Infantry Regiment (Mounted), rode into Centralia. These soldiers were raw recruits with little or no battle experience. John McCorkle, reported that George Todd, Quantrill’s successor, did not participate in the Centralia Massacre and that he reprimanded Anderson for his brutality, but when word came that Johnston was heading toward Centralia, Todd and his men joined forces with Anderson for the ensuing battle. They set a trap for the federals, and Johnston rode right into it. The major saw the bushwhackers dismounting, and thinking they were planning for a battle on foot, he ordered his men to also dismount, directing some to take the horses to the rear. Then he formed his men into a line of battle. As it turned out, the guerrillas were simply tightening the girths on their saddles for the ensuing battle. They remounted and charged the soldiers, who were on foot, with their revolvers blazing. The federals were armed with single shot Enfield rifles; some were able to get off one shot; then, with the bushwhackers bearing down on them, they panicked and ran. Of the 155 Federals, 123 were killed, including Major Johnston, whom, as Frank James later reported, was killed by his
brother, Jesse.

  After the massacre and battle at Centralia, the bushwhackers, as was their common practice, scattered throughout the countryside. After several days, Todd’s men regrouped and joined up with Price’s army, which had been moving west toward Kansas City. On October 21, Todd was scouting ahead for Price near Independence, and on top of a hill, he was mortally wounded by a sharpshooter. He died a short time later. During their time together, the guerrillas had grown very close as comrades, and the death of George Todd was particularly devastating. On many occasions, he led a charge, and had seemed to have a charmed life because up until this fatal shot he had not been hit or even grazed from enemy fire. His death was terribly hard for John McCorkle. Todd had asked for McCorkle to hurry to his bedside; McCorkle was not able to reach him in time, and later in his memoirs, he wrote simply: “I loved Todd more than a brother.”300

  Bill Anderson did not join up with Price and continued bushwhacking in western Missouri. On October 26, 1864, Union Lieutenant Colonel Samuel P. Cox and his 350 militiamen, who had been tracking Anderson, finally caught up with the guerrillas in the small hamlet of Albany, Missouri. Unlike Major Johnston, who led new recruits against the bushwhackers, Cox was leading a force of veterans, and he was a skilled commander. Anderson, who was leading about eighty men, appears to have looked upon the situation as another Centralia: he formed his men and charged. Like the federals at Centralia, many of Cox’s men were dismounted, but instead of panicking and running, they held their ground in fixed positions and kept up a constant and disciplined fire. Recognizing that their situation was not like Centralia, most of the guerrillas instinctively fell back to reorganize. Anderson and one compatriot, however, continued riding ahead in the charge. Anderson was shot from his horse and probably was dead before he hit the ground. His men tried in vain to reclaim his body, but were unsuccessful. The Union soldiers had a trophy, and they carted Anderson’s body to the nearby town of Richmond. They checked his belongings to make sure they had indeed killed “Bloody Bill”—false rumors had been circulating for weeks that he had been killed—and when they were sure, they placed him on display and photographed his corpse. Finally, they buried “Bloody Bill” in an unmarked grave in the local cemetery. “Bloody Bill” Anderson was only twenty-four or twenty-five when he was killed.301