by Chris Enss
Elizabeth did not mention in her reminiscences that it was her idea to steal Colonel Dahlgren’s body; it was also her money used to purchase the metallic casket, which was used to hide Dahlgren’s remains.26
According to the June 1911 edition of Harper’s Monthly Magazine, Colonel Dahlgren’s body was located by Mr. F. W. E. Lohmann and an unnamed slave. The unnamed slave was out walking late one evening when he saw Rebels burying a handicapped soldier. When he heard Mr. Lohmann was searching for the deceased, he took him to the plot where he’d been laid. Under cover of darkness, the two men unearthed the body and opened the coffin. Dahlgren was identified by the missing limb. The coffin was then loaded into a wagon and transported to an abandoned workshop. Mr. Lohmann sent for the metallic casket, and with the help of a handful of Union soldiers, transferred the colonel’s remains to the casket.27
The Harper’s Monthly Magazine article noted:
A few friends saw the body. Colonel Dahlgren’s hair was very short, but all that could be spared was cut off and sent to his father. The coffin was then placed in the back of a wagon which was then filled with young peach trees packed as nurserymen packed them—the coffin, of course, being covered and concealed. A wagon driver named Mr. Rowley transported the brave Dahlgren through several pickets, one of which was then the strongest around Richmond. It was at this place the day before his death [where] Dahlgren fought for hours. Wary and vigilant were our pickets; if one had run his bayonet into the wagon only a few inches, death would have certainly been the reward of Rowley.28
Rowley was chosen well; Miss Van Lew’s account shows him to have been a man of iron nerve and a consummate actor. At the picket post he listened without a quiver to the unexpected order that his wagon be searched; an inbound team drew up, and the picket, perceiving that Rowley gave no sign of being in a hurry, thoroughly searched it. The lieutenant of the post having reentered his tent, and one of the guard at that moment having recognized in Rowley a chance acquaintance, recalled to him their former meeting, there at once commenced a lively conversation. More wagons came, were searched, and went on. The lieutenant, looking out from his tent for an instant, gave orders each time to “search that man.” The suspense must have been terrible; it seemed now that nothing would avert the discovery of the casket.29
“Your face is guarantee enough,” the guard said to Rowley, in a low voice; “go on!” And so the body of Colonel Dahlgren resumed its journey to the farm of a German named Orrick. The grave was quickly dug and the coffin placed in it; two German women helped to fill it in and to plant over it one of the peach trees which had so successfully prevented discovery.30
Elizabeth’s significant contribution to the Federal government during the Civil War was recognized by the Secret Service and General Grant after he became president.31
In 1864, the Union Army made another attempt to invade Richmond and overtake the city, and this time, they were successful. Residents in the Rebel capital fled the city when Federal troops invaded. The doomed Confederacy was in a panic to find horses to help their fighting men flee the area. Rather than see the North move in and seize their sacred domain, Southerners and Rebel soldiers set fire to houses, landmarks, and businesses. General Grant ordered men to find Elizabeth and help protect her home from the perils of the evacuation. When Union troops arrived at Elizabeth’s house, they found her sitting in her living room on top of a stack of historic documents, her horse by her side. She wasn’t going to let anyone take her mount.32
President Grant appointed Elizabeth Van Lew postmaster of Richmond, a position that paid $1,200 a year. The position proved to be a vital necessity for Elizabeth, as she had used all of her family’s funds in her service for the Union and had no viable means of support. Her parents had passed away, and she was caring for her brother, a disabled, former soldier. “I live—and have lived for years—as entirely distinct from the citizens, as if I were plague-stricken,” Elizabeth recalled in her journal, about her financial circumstances and reputation among Southern sympathizers. “Rarely, very rarely, is our doorbell ever rung by any but a pauper or those desiring my service. My mother was taken from me by death. We had not friends enough to be pallbearers.”33
In 1877, Elizabeth was dismissed from her job as postmaster by President Rutherford B. Hayes. He succumbed to political opposition that was critical of a Federal spy and a woman being appointed to such a prestigious position. Life was difficult for Elizabeth after her job came to an end. According to the June 1911 edition of the Harper’s Monthly Magazine (written several years after her death), “After her removal from office there followed years of distressing poverty and unavailing efforts to procure any sort of government appointment. Her salary during her time as postmaster had been spent chiefly on charities.”
“I tell you truly and solemnly,” she later wrote in her journal, “that I have suffered for necessary food. I have not one cent in the world. I honestly think that the government should see that I was sustained.”34
Government officials, aware of the sacrifices Elizabeth had made during the Civil War, disagreed with President Hayes’s decision to dismiss her. Many felt a sense of obligation to her. Officials saw to it that she was made a clerk at the Post Office Department in Washington. Sixty-five-year-old Elizabeth left her Richmond home to take the job, which turned out to be another heartbreaking experience. A vengeful supervisor made her work environment difficult. He berated her in front of her coworkers, demoted her rank, and reduced her pay. Elizabeth eventually resigned and returned to Virginia. She appealed to friends in the North to aid her in her time of need. Friends and relatives of the men Elizabeth had helped while serving at Libby Prison came to her rescue.35
Elizabeth Van Lew died on September 25, 1900, at her Richmond home, at three o’clock in the morning. The obituary that ran in the September 26, 1900, edition of the New York Times noted that she was eighty-three years old. “Miss Van Lew was the daughter of a wealthy Northern man,” the article read, “who for a great many years was one of the principal hardware merchants of Richmond. She was a Union woman all during the war, and took no care to conceal the fact. She was constant in her ministrations to the prisoners confined in Libby Prison, and unknown to the Confederate authorities, was in frequent communication with General Grant’s army.”36
Among the items tucked into the pages of the journal Elizabeth maintained until the day she died was a torn piece of paper that summarized her life. “If I am entitled to the name of ‘Spy’ because I was in the Secret Service, I accept it willingly; but it will hereafter have in my mind a high and honorable signification. For my loyalty to my country I have two beautiful names—here I am called a ‘Traitor’; farther North a ‘Spy’—instead of the honored name of ‘Faithful.’ ”37
Elizabeth was laid to rest at the Shockoe Hill Cemetery in Richmond, Virginia.38
Notes
1. Varan, Southern Lady, Yankee Spy: The True Story of Elizabeth Van Lew, pp. 90–92; Ryan, A Yankee Spy in Richmond, pp. 2–5; Winkler, Stealing Secrets, pp. 54–56.
2. Richmond Dispatch, July 17, 1883; Varan, Southern Lady, Yankee Spy, pp. 90–92; Ryan, A Yankee Spy in Richmond, pp. 2–5; Winkler, Stealing Secrets, pp. 54–56.
3. Winkler, Stealing Secrets, pp. 57–59.
4. Ryan, A Yankee Spy in Richmond, pp. 25–28; Varan, Southern Lady, Yankee Spy, pp. 9–15.
5. Varan, Southern Lady, Yankee Spy, pp. 98–99.
6. Richmond Dispatch, July 17, 1883; Ryan, A Yankee Spy in Richmond, pp. 49–54.
7. Winkler, Stealing Secrets, pp. 54–57.
8. Varan, Southern Lady, Yankee Spy, pp. 56–60.
9. Richmond Examiner, July 29, 1861.
10. Ibid.
11. Ibid.
12. Harper’s Monthly Magazine, June 11, 1911.
13. Winkler, Stealing Secrets, p. 80; Varan, Southern Lady, Yankee Spy, pp. 167–68.
14. Ryan, A Yankee Spy
in Richmond, pp. 49–53.
15. Winkler, Stealing Secrets, pp. 66–69.
16. Richmond Examiner, February 11, 1864.
17. Ibid.
18. Ibid.
19. Ibid.
20. Ibid.
21. Winkler, Stealing Secrets, pp. 66–69; Ryan, A Yankee Spy in Richmond, pp. 58–60; Richmond Whig, February 13, 1864.
22. Ryan, A Yankee Spy in Richmond, pp. 59–61; Varan, Southern Lady, Yankee Spy, pp. 125–26.
23. Official Records, Ser. 1, Vol. XXXIII, January 30, 1864.
24. Official Records, Ser. 1, Vol. XXXIII, January 30, 1864; Varan, Southern Lady, Yankee Spy, pp. 141, 148–49.
25. Official Records, Ser. 1, Vol. XXXIII, January 30, 1864.
26. Winkler, Stealing Secrets, pp. 70–75.
27. Harper’s Monthly Magazine, June 1911.
28. Ibid.
29. Ibid.
30. Ibid.
31. Winkler, Stealing Secrets, pp. 75–77; Varan, Southern Lady, Yankee Spy, pp. 188–89.
32. Ryan, A Yankee Spy in Richmond, pp. 107–09.
33. Varan, Southern Lady, Yankee Spy, pp. 218–39.
34. Harper’s Monthly Magazine, June 1911.
35. Winkler, Stealing Secrets, pp. 84–86.
36. New York Times, September 26, 1900.
37. Winkler, Stealing Secrets, pp. 84–86; Varan, Southern Lady, Yankee Spy, pp. 218–39, 252–53.
38. Ibid.
Chapter Nine
Operative Dr. Mary Edwards Walker
Dr. Mary Edwards Walker caressed the heavy medal pinned on her lapel while staring at the letter in her hand. Frustrated and angry, she set the letter aside, then turned her attention to the document on the table next to her:
Medal of Honor
Dr. Mary Edwards Walker
November 11, 1865
Walker, Dr. Mary E.
Rank and organization:
Contract Acting Assistant Surgeon (civilian), US Army
Places and dates:
Battle of Bull Run, July 21, 1861;
Patent Office Hospital, Washington, DC, October 1861;
Chattanooga, Tennessee, following Battle of Chickamauga, September 1863;
Prisoner of War, April 10, 1864–August 12, 1864, Richmond, Virginia;
Battle of Atlanta, September 1864.
Entered service at:
Louisville, Kentucky
Born:
26 November 1832, Oswego County, New York
Citation:
Whereas it appears from official reports that Dr. Mary E. Walker, a graduate of medicine, “has rendered valuable service to the Government and her efforts have been earnest and untiring in a variety of ways,” and that she was assigned to duty and served as an assistant surgeon in charge of female prisoners at Louisville, Kentucky, upon the recommendation of Major Generals Sherman and Thomas, and faithfully served as contract surgeon in the service of the United States, and has devoted herself with much patriotic zeal to the sick and wounded soldiers, both in the field and hospitals, to the detriment of her own health, and has also endured hardships as a prisoner of war four months in a Southern prison while acting as contract surgeon; and
Whereas by reason of her not being a commissioned officer in the military service, a brevet or honorary rank cannot, under existing laws, be conferred upon her; and
Whereas in the opinion of the President an honorable recognition of her services and sufferings should be made:
It is ordered, that a testimonial thereof shall be hereby made and given to the said Dr. Mary E. Walker, and that the usual medal of honor for meritorious services be given her.
Given under my hand in the city of Washington, DC, this 11th day of November, AD 1865.1
Now, after Dr. Walker had worn her medal proudly for fifty-two years, the US government had revoked the honor it had once bestowed upon her, and struck her name from the list of recipients. In mid-January of 1917, eighty-four-year-old Mary and 910 other recipients were notified that their medals were being rescinded because new regulations required “actual combat with an enemy . . . above and beyond the call of duty.”2 At the prompting and connivery of Secretary of War Edwin M. Stanton during the Civil War, it appears that the Federal government had abused its powers of issuance regarding the Twenty-Seventh Maine Volunteer Infantry Regiment when the War Department forwarded 864 medals to the commanding officer. With concern raised and a change in standards, a 1916 board of five army generals, led by Lieutenant General Nelson A. Miles, identified 911 awards for causes other than distinguished service. Mary E. Walker’s and Buffalo Bill Cody’s were among those identified. Even though her contribution had not been combat-related, Mary was infuriated by this great injustice—that her meritorious service was being disregarded by her government.
“They’ll have to pry this from my cold, dead body,” Mary fumed to herself. With firm and irrepressible determination, she kept the medal, wearing it until the day she died.3
Mary Edwards Walker knew controversy from the beginning, and was distinguished for her strength of mind and decision of character. Born in a farmhouse in Oswego Town, in Upstate New York, on November 26, 1832, her reform-oriented parents raised their children “in a progressive manner that was revolutionary for the time.” Alvah and Vesta (Whitcomb) Walker’s “nontraditional parenting nurtured Mary’s spirit of independence and sense of justice, [which] she actively demonstrated throughout her life.”4
Mary excelled in school, spurred on by her family’s emphasis on and esteem for education, their focus on books, and the eventual founding of a school on their own property. In December of 1853, Mary attended one of the few medical institutions admitting females in those days, Syracuse Medical College. She graduated with honors in 1855, when she was awarded her Doctor of Medicine degree—one of only a handful of women in the United States to achieve this goal at the time. Although the degree gave her the right to practice medicine and surgery, it didn’t guarantee that she’d have a successful practice.5
After graduation, Mary married a fellow student named Albert Miller, and they established a joint practice in Rome, New York. The marriage was troubled from the beginning, and the couple divorced shortly before the smoke cleared at Fort Sumter, signaling the start of the Civil War. Aware that there was a great need for physicians to serve in the military, Mary enthusiastically and confidently marched directly to the War Department in the City of Washington, requesting a surgeon’s appointment of then secretary of war, Simon Cameron. Despite a shortage of medical personnel, facilities, and supplies, Cameron and the military were no more willing to accept a woman physician than was regular society.
The determined doctor was undaunted by her country’s rejection.6
The unprepared capital city had been inundated with approximately 250,000 volunteers responding to Lincoln’s “all call” to suppress the Confederacy. Now, it had been further besieged by masses of wounded and demoralized Union soldiers after their defeat at the First Battle of Bull Run / Manassas. In October 1861, Dr. Walker trudged along the overwhelmed, congested streets, visiting the relief hospitals. Mary’s services were quickly accepted at the Indiana Hospital, commonly known as the Patent Office Hospital, because of its occupancy of the incomplete building’s top floor.7
While at Indiana Hospital, Dr. Walker began what would become her war-long fight for a commission as a military surgeon with the medical department of the Union Army, even directly petitioning the surgeon general and assistant surgeon general. Despite not being on the payroll, Mary continued to render aid to wounded masses that poured into the city, acting as a volunteer assistant surgeon without the title.8
Mary was generous and kind to everyone with whom she came in contact at the hospital, and she met a number of influential people during her time at the facility. She was introduced to governors, congr
essmen, and national leaders, and was not shy about calling on them for help. Because of her positive presence, care, and concern, many of the soldiers’ families needing assistance wrote directly to her. She was known as a person who would go above and beyond to lend a hand. Dr. Walker’s reputation for tenderness and honesty spread.9
It was during her time at Indiana Hospital that she began accompanying patients to their homes, including several trips to Virginia. Traveling in this capacity gave Mary her first experience of seeing the South.10
Soon after Lincoln’s first inauguration, Allan Pinkerton responded to the newly elected president’s summons of April 28, 1861, where he presented his ideas of a secret intelligence service to Lincoln’s new Cabinet in a private meeting in May. Unimpressed, the Cabinet adjourned with nothing accomplished.
On April 23, 1861, days before Lincoln’s summons of Pinkerton, George B. McClellan had been commissioned a major general in command of the Ohio militia volunteers. The same day Pinkerton was presenting his notions to the executive Cabinet, McClellan “re-entered federal service as commander of the Department of the Ohio, responsible for the defense of the states of Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, and, later, western Pennsylvania, western Virginia, and Missouri.” He was commissioned a major general in the regular army on May 14.11
On July 26, 1861, Major General George B. McClellan reached Washington and was appointed commander of the Military Division of the Potomac, the main Union force responsible for the capital’s defense. After Virginia military units were consolidated into his department on August 20, McClellan formed the Army of the Potomac, he being its first commander.12 Author Jay Bonansinga, of Pinkerton’s War: The Civil War’s Greatest Spy and the Birth of the U.S. Secret Service, states that McClellan “shared Pinkerton’s pioneering vision for clandestine intelligence gathering.” McClellan communicated with Pinkerton, writing: “Have heard of your achievement in protecting the President [sic] and would appreciate your coming to see me in Cincinnati. Observe caution. If you telegraph me, be sure to use only your first name. Let no one know your plans.”13
