Book review: Our Family Dreams: The Fletchers’ Adventures in Nineteenth Century America

Often the names of streets, parks, and neighborhoods point to the history of a city. Fletcher is one such name. In exploring the local history of Indianapolis, I routinely encountered the name Fletcher.

I learned about the Fletcher family plot in Crown Hill Cemetery and heard stories during tours. I drove down Fletcher Avenue and found myself wandering Fletcher Place when I trekked the cultural trail. I discovered a stunning portrait of Louisa Fletcher, a descendant (granddaughter?) of Calvin Fletcher, who moved to Indianapolis in the early 1800s, at the IMA. Booth Tarkington, a playwright buried in Crown Hill and with a theatre named after him, was married to Louisa. Calvin’s diary is an early historical source of sorts of Indianapolis. Wherever I turn I seem to encounter the Fletchers.

Somewhere, I do not remember where, I learned about Our Family Dreams, an account of the Fletcher clan. I was immediately intrigued.

The book is a delight and a disappointment. A disappointment because it focuses on only the 19th century. I was left wanting more and wondering about the clan in the 20th century. (Louisa doesn’t appear in its pages.) A delight because it is a deep dive into the two Fletcher brothers (Elijah and Calvin) and along the way provides insights in 18th and 19th century life, the political and cultural realities of the country, and early Indianapolis.

Smith starts his story with the patriarch of the family, Jesse Sr., who moved to Vermont to start a farm. His life was consumed with hard work, but he never really got out of the shadow of debt. Despite (or perhaps because of) his poverty, he recognized the value of education, even for girls. Several of his children were educated, either through his direct financial support or from the support of older siblings who were educated and out in the world seeking success.

The focus on Elijah and Calvin provides a fascinating insight into different cultural areas in the US before, during, and after the Civil War. The Fletchers in Vermont were an anti-slavery family. When Elijah left home to seek his way in the world, he was headed to Raleigh for a teaching assignment but stopped short in Virginia, where he took to the southern way of life.

Calvin, in contrast, headed west, eventually ending up in the new city of Indianapolis, which was located in a nominally anti-slavery state. (Indiana’s status can be debated; the legislature was dominated by pro-slavery Democrats and Hoosiers along the banks of the Ohio River often sympathized and sided with pro-slavery sentiment. However, Indiana sent one the largest numbers of soldiers to fight in the Union Army and was constitutionally anti-slavery. See blog posts that mention slavery in Indiana.)

The two brothers stayed in close contact over the decades, each residing over family dynasties of a sort. Elijah quickly became a plantation owner in his own right. Calvin was a lawyer, farmer, landowner, and pillar of the community. Whereas Elijah supported and condoned the owning of slaves, Calvin in his legal capacities helped some slaves brought to Indiana attain their freedom. (According to Indiana law, when slaves were brought to the state for residency—as opposed to transiting through the state to another destination—they automatically gained their freedom. At least in theory according to the law. Reality was a different matter.)

Snippets in the stories about Calvin resonate with history that I have encountered in my explorations of Indiana. In Ohio, Calvin lived with and studied law with a lawyer, reminiscent of the tales I heard about how men studied law in Madison on the Ohio River. As a young lawyer, he rode the circuit in Ohio and Indiana.

His household, once he was established as a pillar of society, consisted not just of family but of servants. And he took in widows and orphans for periods of time. Although I hadn’t encountered other historical figures in my travels who housed random widows and orphans in their own home, it was not uncommon for wealthy men to establish special houses for widows where their basic needs were met.

The story about how Calvin ended up marrying his first wife was enlightening. He realized he needed a helpmate through life but was torn about who it should be. He approached the task of getting a wife more as a rational choice rather than a matter of the heart. He was clearly concerned about status—a wife could improve one’s status or hurt it. He was originally drawn to a student of his but she was from a poor, ignorant family. She would not raise his status, but she could be a project, a person for him to educate and mold. His dilemma seems strange from a 21st century perspective. Frankly, with his attitudes, he seems like a condescending jerk.

As someone in the early years of Indiana, he was, to my chagrin, a land speculator, even owning land as far away as northwest Indiana (Michigan City). (My disappointment is that he was part of land speculation in Indiana that stole land from the native Americans and sold the land for a tidy profit.)

He was anti-slavery but racist. He supported the liberation of slaves and their rights but like Lincoln, believed that once freed, they should return to Africa. He kept out of debates in the 1844 presidential election but refused to support the anti-slavery Quaker ticket. He thought, perhaps rightly, that the Quaker ticket would only succeed in splitting the other tickets. (Neither other ticket was ideal: Whig Clay from pro-slavery Kentucky or Democratic pro-slavery Polk.) He also employed former slaves on his farm.

Indiana was settled with lots of Germans and was populated with numerous breweries. German societies such as the Athenaeum in Indianapolis that celebrated culture and education were common, but at least in Calvin’s day, the Germans he encountered seemed not to be of this class. He viewed Germans as ignorant and backwards and thus looked down on them.

Calvin was involved in the nascent banking industry as a banking president. The early banking industry, as I learned in my explorations, was anything but above board. Banks were meant for the wealthy elite, not the common folk. Often they went belly up and were dens of corruption. Calvin though is portrayed as an above-board kind of guy. I wonder more about his role in the early banking industry in Indiana.

He was an enthusiastic supporter of what he described as internal improvements (what we now refer to as infrastructure projects.) He actually visited the Erie Canal in New York and thought that canals would be better than railroads. (Railroads would only last a couple decades, he thought. He must have realized the error of his judgement; he was at one point on a railroad board.) As with banking, I wondered what his involved in the doomed canal projects in Indiana was. Indiana’s ill-fated attempt to build canals throughout the state ended in failure and the state’s bankruptcy.

Smith mentions in passing the Panic of 1837 and how it contributed to a depression that lasted until 1843. Again, the early financial history of Indiana—and Calvin’s role in it—would be fascinating to learn. My impression is that the state bankruptcy due to the flawed investment in canals led to the panic and ensuing depression, but I am not at all certain that the banking industry didn’t contribute to it as well.

Calvin watched politics and society become more and more divided in the 1840s. He was a staunch abolitionist but not everyone (or most people?) in Indiana shared his views. The protestant churches started to split into northern and southern branches around this time period.

He was friends with Henry Ward Beecher, a Presbyterian minister who preached against slavery. (The Presbyterian Church split into northern and southern branches over the issue of slavery in 1861.) Henry is incidentally the father of Harriet Beecher Stowe, who wrote the anti-slavery treatise Uncle Tom’s Cabin.

Calvin was not only an abolitionist, but he was active in temperance and education reform movements, the latter a topic dear to the Fletcher family in general. In the 1830s Horace Mann initiated educational reforms in Indiana. In 1852, Indiana finally established free education. (See blog posts about education in early Indiana.)

Through Calvin’s correspondences with his brother Elijah, we get a glimpse into the political and social realities of the decades leading up to the Civil War. Calvin feared that annexing Texas, which wanted to allow slavery, would lead to war in Mexico and upset the balance of slave vs. non-slave states. He ruminates on John Brown and his attack at Harper’s Ferry. His son Elijah, now a preacher in a church in New Albany in southern Indiana, recounts the pro-Confederate sympathies of his congregation. (Many Hoosier families along the Ohio River were split, with fathers supporting one side and sons the other. Despite this, pro-Confederate sentiments weren’t sufficient to support a Confederate raid into Indiana.)

The pro-Union governor Oliver Morton turned to wealthy businessmen and community leaders to help gather troops, supplies, and funds for the Civil War. One person that Morton turned to was Calvin, whom he enlisted to gather munitions.

Although in his 60s, Calvin traveled to Canada to gather munition for the cause. Given his advanced age (he died at 68), Calvin tried to avoid being further pressed into service. When Morton wanted him to travel with him to Terre Haute, he sent his son Miles in his place. On that trip, Miles was tragically killed by a passing train.

Calvin mentions the train that stopped in Indy on its way to taking the newly elected Abraham Lincoln to Washington DC. Given Lincoln’s status as saint in modern times and their (later?) shared abolitionist view, I expected Calvin to be pro-Lincoln. If anything, Calvin seemed lukewarm about Lincoln. He actually met Lincoln briefly at the White House, but the meeting did not leave him with a great impression either of Lincoln or his administration (!). (Interesting, brother Elijah met Jefferson at Monticello and was less than impressed by him.) When Lincoln’s funeral train stopped in Indy on April 30, Calvin and his wife did pay their respects as Lincoln laid in the Indiana statehouse.

The stories of his children are equally fascinating as the history he lived through. Although he attempted to instill deep morals in his children and prized education, on the whole his children did not turn out as expected. Those from whom he expected great things seemed to disappoint but those who seemed disappointing turned out quite well.

On the whole, his sons wanted to distinguish themselves in battle during the Civil War rather than stay and help with the family business. Calvin rarely mentions his daughters. Maria married Cyrus Hines (who served in the Civil War and post-war practiced law with Benjamin Harrison). After Maria died in childbirth, her sister Lucy married Cyrus—a marriage that Calvin disapproved of.

His son Billy, originally a disappointment, distinguished himself after being captured during the Civil War. He used his medical training to help anyone he could during confinement. Following the war, he became a respected pillar of society, setting up different institutions in Indianapolis.

Calvin also found himself trying to right the ways of errant siblings and nephews, which he wasn’t always successful in doing. His brother’s daughter Indiana pleaded with him to obtain a pass to the north for her. (She was located on her late father’s plantations during the war.) Understandable given his role helping Morton and the side he took in the Civil War, he mainly stayed silent, never satisfying her request. He and his branch of the family had chosen the Union. Elijah and his branch had chosen slavery and the Confederacy.

In all the book is a fascinating look into different political, societal, and historical elements of the US—all through the prism of the Calvin and Elijah Fletcher families. Much that is mentioned weaves with histories and customs that I learned elsewhere. The book did raise other questions and left me wanting to learn more about the Fletcher family and their role in Indiana and American history.

Advertisements

Lanier Mansion State Historic Site

I passed this house and grounds a few times before I was able to take a tour. After seeing the Francis Costigan House, I was even more eager to see the Lanier Mansion, which Costigan designed. The house did not disappoint. It has been beautifully restored.

James Lanier was born in North Carolina in 1800. In 1817, his father brought the family to Madison and opened a dry goods store. (They apparently lived in what is now known as the Schofield House.) After studying law in Pennsylvania, James returned to Madison and worked as a legal clerk when the Indiana General Assembly was in session. (Nearby Corydon served as the state capital from 1816 to 1825.)

James later turned to banking and finance, becoming the president of the State Bank in Madison. He invested in the first railroad in Indiana. He was successful enough to hire Francis Costigan to build a great mansion on the Ohio River. The mansion, which took three and a half years to complete, was finished in 1844. However, James did not enjoy it for very long.

In 1849, he formed an investment bank, Winslow & Lanier, which was based in New York City. In 1851, he moved to New York City, leaving behind his grown son Alexander to care for the Lanier Mansion. Alexander was the force behind the creation of the formal gardens between the house and the river.

The house is imposing but as a Greek Revival house, it is not over the top and gaudy like some Victorian era houses. The foyer is large and runs the length of the house. A twin to the front door opens to the river-facing side of the house. (Because the river was a major transportation avenue, visitors often showed up on the side of the house facing the fiver.)

Reminiscent of his own house (built later in 1850), Costigan used 10-foot doors with the 14-foot ceiling (vs. a 12-foot ceiling on the second floor and a 6.4-foot ceiling on the third floor). As a nod to the curved walls and doors in his own future home, a curved door, perfectly hung under the stairs, separates the foyer from the dining room.

On one side of the first floor are the parlors: formal in front, informal behind it. Large double pocket doors separate the two rooms. Like Chief Richardville’s house, the door frames in this house sport “ears”. (Another visitor pointed this out to the docent just a few days prior.) Molding at the ceiling is in alternating shapes of eggs and arrows—birth and death—symbols that seemed more Egyptian than Greek to me. Mike, the docent, pointed out the symmetry that was de rigueur in Greek Revival house—and opened every fake door. (Fake doors abound to provide symmetry to real doors in the rooms.)

Strangely, only the windows on the west side of the house—which included the parlors—have storm shutters on the outside. (Later during a stroll of the grounds, I noticed some on the southern windows of the kitchen.) The windows also have inside shutters, which could be folded and tucked away into a pocket in the walls, a Costigan feature that the docent pointed out.

Wild patterned wallpaper and carpeting reflect the style of the times. The formal parlor includes an Italianate marble fireplace. The informal parlor is a music room with pianoforte, harp, and harmonium. The harp came from Paris in the 1790s (!) and the harmonium arrived a few days prior from the Indiana State Museum. (The museum runs the Lanier Mansion State Historic Site and typically outfits historic sites with period appropriate pieces.)

The Laniers had 8 kids total—five girls and three boys. A portrait of the youngest boy, James, hangs in the informal parlor. He unfortunately did not make it to adulthood. In the portrait, James is a small child, dressed in a smock. Apparently, in the days of buttons rather than zippers, young boys wore dresses. Easier and faster to disrobe for the urgent calls of nature. (Ah! Now it makes sense why clothes for young James Whitcomb Riley at his childhood home included dresses—or smocks.)

On the other side of the house, looking out at the river, is Lanier’s study/library. The bookcase full of books is original. Next to the fireplace is an early, pre-Barcalounger chair that moves into a reclining position with an attached wooden tray to hold books or papers.

The room to the front of the house, across the foyer from the formal parlor, is the dining room. The dining table was set for the dessert course of a meal. Above the table hangs an oil chandelier—an argon chandelier. A container in the middle of the chandelier contained the oil that flowed to the lights thanks to gravity. (The house did move to gas lighting after the city received a gas charter in 1850.) In a corner stands a cellarette, a zinc-lined wine cellar. I looked at the small squat piece of wooden furniture with claw feet. I suspected that I had seen these before without realizing what they were.

On this side of the house, with an entrance between the dining room and study, is the breakfast room with stairs to the servant quarters and a kitchen behind it. Both rooms are in the process of being restored. The fireplace in the kitchen seemed incredibly small. But strangely no kitchen in the basement or a summer kitchen exists.

According to the docent, the Laniers did not have slaves; they used indentured servants—Maggie and David. (Similar to the Jeremiah Sullivan House.) I always wonder about claims like this. Technically slavery was illegal in Indiana but things were a bit loosey-goosey early on. Slavery. Indentured servitude. Tomato. Tomaato.

Apparently though the Laniers had a contract for David, a twelve-year-old African-American boy whose mother signed a contract for his indentured servitude. According to the contract, David was to be taught to read, write, and do basic math. When his servitude came to an end at the age of 21, he was to be release with a suit of clothing. (I wonder what happened to David.)

Before we ascended the beautiful circular staircase (Costigan really was a master architect), Mike had me stand so I could look up at the three flights of stairs. At the top were skylights covered by a cupola. On cloudy days, Mike said, the area around your feet would be bright and sunny. (The day of my visit was sunny so, strangely, I was not bathed in bright light.)

The second floor consists of bedrooms, a small study, and a nursery. The bedrooms seemed big, even though they were filled with large furniture. May and Louisa shared a front bedroom. Mike pointed out the top drawers in the dresser that overhung the lower drawers. Quilts were stored in these overbig drawers. (Huh. That’s why the first drawer is larger on some antique dressers! Interesting.)

Charles, one of the sons, occupied the other front bedroom. In 1851, when Lanier moved to New York to run his investment bank, he took his wife and young son Charles. After Lanier died in 1881, Charles took over the business but was not quite the businessman that his father was. No fear though. He had a good friend to help him—J.P. Morgan.

In between the two front bedrooms is a small study with an original Lanier desk. Odd to think of this space being used as a study.

Alexander, the elder son who was 30 and a graduate from Yale, took over care of the house when his father left for New York. He slept in the room on the riverside, across from May’s and Louisa’s room. Alex didn’t marry until he was 60. He was in love with Stella from his youth. Stella, for unknown reasons, had married someone else. When she became free later in life, the two of them wed.

The last bedroom is the master bedroom. In between it and Alexander’s bedroom, directly opposite the small study, is a nursery. Clearly, the Laniers expected more children. In 1846, just two years after the house was finished, his wife Elizabeth died. In 1848, James married again. It doesn’t seem that the nursery was used.

The third floor consists of rooms for the servants and a playroom for the children, complete with a large 1840s rocking horse. At the top of the stairs is another double curved door. Alexander converted a small closet between the playroom and the servants’ room into a water closet. All of the windows on the third floor are oculus windows that swing open. (They reminded me of the beautiful oculus window in the Samuel Plato house in Marion.)

So what happened after Lanier left the house in 1851 and moved to New York with his wife and teenage son Charles? Lanier in many ways financed the Civil War for the state of Indiana. The legislature was packed with Democrat Copperheads who opposed the war and sided with the South. They blocked all financing of soldiers for the war effort. Governor Morton turned to Lanier, who loaned the state $400,000 and later another $640,000. By 1870, five years after the war ended, Indiana had repaid Lanier with interest.

Lanier died in 1881. Alexander, who occupied the house since 1851, died in 1895, and Stella, his wife and life-long love, died in 1900. The deed passed to her daughters (from a previous marriage). By the early 1900s, Charles, the thirteen-year-old who traveled to New York with his father, managed to buy back the house for $5,600 (!). In 1925, the house was donated to the Indiana State Museum.

As with other Indiana State Museum sites, the Lanier Mansion was a delight to tour. The tour only lasted an hour. Like many tours, I was the sole attendee, which has its benefits. I wonder though what it would have been like to tour with the group of women I encountered at the Jeremiah Sullivan House. (They were quite inquisitive and liked to discuss different items that they encountered—they had toured the Lanier Mansion the previous day and highly recommended it.)

Crown Hill Cemetery: Civil War Generals tour

Another Civil War tour! It shouldn’t be surprising in a city that glorifies war and in a state that sent the most soldiers to fight in the Civil War (with the exception of Delaware).

The focus of this tour was on the generals of the Civil War. It was a morning tour, an outing about history, and a chance to wander around Crown Hill Cemetery. Count me in!

At first, all the tomb sites we visited and the people we discussed were the same ones from the Civil War tour that I attended a few months ago. Hmmm. I started to worry about a third of the way through the tour. The tour became a game of can-I-remember-the-stories-told-about-each-person from the last tour. (The answer was no.)

About halfway through the tour, all this changed. The docent took us to gravesites and related stories about people who were new to me. In the list below, names with * are people discussed in the earlier Civil War tour. (For information about them, see my previous blog post.)

* John Coburn (1825-1908)

* Thomas A. Hendricks (1819-1885)

* Abel Streight (1828-1892)

* Jefferson C. Davis (1828-1879)

* Oliver Morton (1823-1877)

* Edward Canby (1817-1873)

* Samuel St. George Rogers (1832-1880)

* Richard Gatling (1818-1903)

Thomas Butler (1833-1912)
In 1862, Butler enlisted as captain and quickly became the commander of the 5th Indiana Calvary, a unit that he served with throughout the war. I found little information about Butler, except for mention that in 1864 he was a POW. He was brevetted as brigadier general and mustered out after the end of the war. Post-war: He died in Baltimore but was brought back to Indiana for burial.

* Lucy Ann Seaton (1831-1864)
I’m not sure why we stopped here on the tour—her husband was a captain—except for the fact that she was the first burial in Crown Hill.

John Hawkins (1830-1914)
Hawkins was the brother of Canby’s future wife. Hawkins led a division of African American soldiers at the Battle of Fort Blakely, which resulted in the capture of Mobile, Alabama. During the war, he was a brigadier general. Post-war: Hawkins remained in the army, but reverted to his regular rank of captain of the Subsistence Department. Later he attained the rank of brigadier general in that department.

Ebenezer Dumont (1814-1871)
Dumont served as colonel of the 7th Indiana Volunteer Infantry and saw action in the West Virginia Campaign. In 1861, he was promoted to brigadier general. In 1862, he skirmished with General John Hunt Morgan in Tennessee. Dumont didn’t capture Morgan, but he did get Morgan’s beloved horse (Black Bess) that Morgan was forced to leave behind when he fled. (In 1863, Morgan would lead the famous Morgan’s Raid into southern Indiana, believing that sympathizers to the southern cause in Indiana would rise up. They didn’t.) In 1863, Dumont resigned to resume his political career in Congress. Post-war: He served in Congress until 1867. The president appointed him as governor of the Idaho Territory, but he died before taking office.

Daniel McClure (1824-1900)
McClure was the paymaster for Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Michigan, and Wisconsin during the Civil War. He was brevetted as lieutenant colonel and colonel during the Civil War. He didn’t actually lead any troops. Disclosure: I couldn’t find any evidence on the Internet that he was a general. Post-war: He served as colonel and assistant paymaster general, retiring in 1888.

* Thomas Morris (1811-1904)

* Joseph Bingham (died 12/13/1898)
Bingham was not a general or in the military at all, but as we were passing by his grave, the docent stopped to discuss the treason trial that he was involved in.

* Benjamin Harrison (1833-1901)

* Robert Foster (1834-1903)

Frederick Knefler (1824-1901)
At age 14, Knefler enlisted with his father in the revolutionary forces during the Hungarian War of Liberation (1848-1849). (My ears pricked up. The Revolutions podcast that I listen to is currently covering the European revolutions of 1848.) Upon the defeat of the revolutionaries, the Kneflers fled to the US, settling in Indianapolis. The Kneflers were one of the first Jewish families in the city, and his father was one of the founders of the Indianapolis Hebrew Congregation.

During the Civil War, Knefler initially served with Lew Wallace, and then commanded the 79th Indiana Infantry. The 79th received accolades for leading the charge up Missionary Ridge. Knefler was brevetted brigadier general. Post-war: Knefler worked as a lawyer and then was appointed to the pension office. He was president of the board of regents of the Soldiers and Sailors Monument in Indianapolis.

John Love (1837-1886)
Love, who was distantly related to Robert E. Lee, served in West Virginia under Brigadier General Morris. He also trained volunteer troops raised by Governor Morton. His Democratic leanings though were evident; he routinely let captured Confederate officers out on parole. (Calvin Fletcher, on behalf of Governor Morton, entreated him to stop this practice. He did.)

In 1863, Love, along with Lew Wallace, pursued Morgan during Morgan’s raid into southern Indiana. Later that year, Love attended the dedication of the cemetery at Gettysburg with Governor Morton. Post-War: Love represented the company that sold the Gatling Gun in Europe. He was a trustee at IU, part of commission to erect the Indiana State House, appointed manager of the National Soldiers Home, and a real estate broker.

George Chapman (1832-1882)
Following an early stint in the Navy, Chapman studied law and published his own newspaper. In 1861, he volunteered for service, rose in the ranks, and participated in a number of battles, including Gettysburg. (He is the only general in Crown Hill Cemetery who fought at Gettysburg.) Post-war: Chapman served on court-martial boards before serving as a judge, a receiver for two financially challenged railroads, a state legislator, and a Senator.

* George McGinnis (1826-1910)

* Edward Black (1853-1872)

Crown Hill Cemetery: Civil War tour

Not really a war buff, I felt a bit out of place with the other people who showed up for the tour. Hats and t-shirts attested to their passion for the war. As we waited for the tour to start, they shared their own war stories about visits to different battlefields.

I was here to enjoy a docent-led tour of Crown Hill Cemetery during a July morning. After a slow start, the tour guide took off like a shot. And never stopped going. The tour lasted only an hour and half but we covered a lot of ground and viewed a lot of gravesites. The guide peppered us with lots of information, and I attempted to inject with questions.

Crown Hill Cemetery opened in 1863. A section was reserved as a national cemetery. Interestingly, although blacks and whites were segregated in Crown Hill, on the federal lands, USCT (United Stated Colored Troops) were buried among white troops.

In 1866, Union soldiers were moved from Greenlawn city cemetery to Crown Hill. (Greenlawn is no more; it is the current site of Lucas Oil stadium.) In 1930, the Confederate soldiers were moved to Crown Hill.

The gravesites that we visited were for people somehow tied to the Civil War. They were mostly Union soldiers and supporters, but Democrats, southern sympathizers, and a Confederate soldier rounded out the mix. The stories we heard about people are too numerous to relate in detail. I’ll share a few interesting war and post-war tidbits about the people discussed in the tour.

John Coburn (1825-1908)
Early in the war, Coburn surrendered to Nathan Forest and spent time in Libby Prison before being exchanged. He fought with Benjamin Harrison. The city of Atlanta surrendered to him and his troops. Post-war: Coburn helped ensure the construction of the Soldiers and Sailors monument in Indianapolis. He and his father helped found the Indiana Historical Society.

Thomas A. Hendricks (1819-1885)
As a pro-Union Democrat during the Civil War, Hendricks kept the Democrats in the Indiana legislature from passing anti-war resolutions. In 1863, he was elected to the Senate, replacing Senator Bright. Bright had been expelled for addressing Jefferson Davis as President of the Confederate States in a letter where he suggested that the South should buy guns from Indiana manufacturers (!). Post-war: Hendricks served for eight months (until his death) as the 21st Vice President under President Cleveland.

Abel Streight (1828-1892)
In 1863, Streight led a raid (the Mule Brigade) on Alabama to disrupt the railroad (and Confederate supplies) from Chattanooga to Atlanta. He was caught by Nathan Forrest (the same Forrest that caught Coburn), but demanded a do-over after he learned that Forrest tricked him with only 500 men to his 1,700. (Naturally, Forrest did not agree to a do-over.) He escaped from Libby Prison, along with 102 others (of these two drowned and 50 were recaptured). Post-war: After his death, his wife buried in their front lawn. “I never knew where he was in life, but now I can find him.” (He was reburied in Crown Hill Cemetery.)

Jefferson C. Davis (1828-1879)
Davis has the unique distinction of killing a superior officer who insulted him in front of lots of witnesses but was not put on trial. Because he was a good career officer, and good career officers were in short supply, he wasn’t tried but he was barred from future promotions and pay increases. He was also known for the pontoon boat incident. After crossing a river in the south, he cut the pontoons loose, leading to hundreds of slaves who were following his troops to drown or be captured. His tombstone is covered with a concrete US flag.

Oliver Morton (1823-1877)
Morton was the 14th governor, and was devoted to Lincoln and the Union war effort. He secured men and money for the Union Cause despite a legislature filled with Copperheads (Democrats) who opposed to the war. He accomplished this by exceeding his constitutional authority, e.g., disbanding the legislature, taking out federal and private loans to run the state government. Post-war: US Senator.

Edward Canby (1817-1873)
Like Davis, Canby was a career officer. He was friends with Lew Wallace; both grew up in Crawfordsville. After Lew’s mother died, Hawkins, the mother of Canby’s future wife, took in the three Wallace boys until their father remarried. The brother of Canby’s future wife, John Parker Hawkins, led a division of African American soldiers at the Battle of Fort Blakely, which resulted in the capture of Mobile, Alabama. Post-War: Canby ended up in California negotiating a peace treaty with the Modocs, which ended in his death. Several generals, including Lew Wallace.

Samuel St. George Rogers (1832-1880)
Rogers is the sole confederate soldier buried in Crown Hill Cemetery proper (vs. the National Cemetery). Because he was buried in Crown Hill rather than on federal property, his tombstone was allowed to sport the image of a confederate flag. Post-war: Rogers was a congressman from Florida.

Richard Gatling (1818-1903)
Dr. Gatling was a medical doctor by training and an inventor by profession. He is best known for the Gatling gun, which was first used in combat by Union forces during the Civil War. His wife Jemima was the sister of David Wallace’s second wife (Zerelda). David Wallace was Lew Wallace’s father, and Zerelda was the model for the mother in Lew’s novel Ben-Hur.

David Wallace (1799-1859)
Wallace’s connection to the Civil War is through his sons Edward and Lew who both served in the Union forces. He served as state representative, lt. governor, governor, and then US Senator. He had the misfortune of being governor when the negative effects of the Mammoth Internal Improvement Act were being realized and the state almost went bankrupt. His wife Zerelda was a leader in the temperance movement and a suffragette.

Samuel Fahnestock (1804-1874)
Dr. Fahnestock has the distinction of being the third person buried in Crown Hill Cemetery (6/7/1864). He was murdered in Louisiana where he served as a volunteer physician treating freed slaves.

Lucy Ann Seaton (1831-1864)
Seaton is the first person buried in Crown Hill with her infant baby Lucy in an unmarked grave by her side. Her husband, John L Seaton, was a captain the Union Army. In recent years, Boy Scouts raised her tombstone, added bricks around the gravesite, and covered the grave with ground plants. If Seaton was the first person buried in Crown Hill and Fahnestock the third, who is the second? I haven’t solved that mystery yet.

Caleb Blood Smith (1808-1964)
Smith was given the position of Secretary of the Interior under Lincoln in return for his support of Lincoln at the 1860 Republican Convention. No one in government thought Smith had any administrative aptitude. He himself seemed to want a position the Supreme Court. He resigned, accepted a judgeship in Indiana, and died not long after. Post-war: Smith’s body is apparently AWOL. He is not buried in the Smith mausoleum. I have read conflicting accounts of him being buried in Greenlawn (whose burials were later moved to Crown Hill) or the Connersville cemetery.

Louisa Magruder (ca. 1808-1900)
Magruder is buried on the Noble family plot. Her father Tom, who was a slave in the Noble family, is nowhere to be found in the plot. Louisa’s tombstone reads “daughter of Uncle Tom”. Her father is believed to have been the inspiration for Uncle Tom’s Cabin, which was published in 1852. According to historian J.P. Dunn, Harriet Beecher Stowe regularly visited the Magruders—Stowe’s brother was a Presbyterian minister in Indianapolis and friend of the Nobles—and actually wrote much of her book there. Post-war: Magruder was a servant in the Noble family in Indianapolis. After the war, Noble’s granddaughter gave Magruder a small house and plot of land.

Dr. John Kitchen (died 2/8/1916)
At the beginning of the Civil War, Dr. Kitchen was in charge of the sick at Camp Morton, the largest of the eight prison camps established for Confederate noncommissioned officers and privates. His mausoleum is the only hillside mausoleum in the cemetery. Post-war: Kitchen continued to practice medicine until 1886.

Miles Fletcher (1828-1862)
Oliver Morton requested that Calvin Fletcher accompany him on a trip to talk to Indiana troops. Fletcher, a prominent resident of Indianapolis, supported USCT, let troops use his farm lands to train, provided for soldiers’ families, and purchased arms for Indiana’s regiments. Unfortunately, he could not accompany Morton and sent his son Miles in his place. Miles was killed by another train car when he poked his head out of the train’s window.

Charles Brouse (1839-1904)
On May 16, 1899, Captain Brouse was awarded the Medal of Honor for valor at the Battle of Missionary Ridge. Citation: “To encourage his men whom he had ordered to lie down while under severe fire, and who were partially protected by slight earthworks, himself refused to lie down, but walked along the top of the works until he fell severely wounded.” Post-war: Brouse died in sleep of apparent heart failure.

Cyrus Hines (1830-1901)
Hines married Maria Fletcher, the daughter of Calvin Fletcher and sister of Miles Fletcher. She died in 1860 and he enlisted in the 11th Indiana Volunteers in April 1861. In August 1863, he resigned due to an injury sustained in 1862. Post-war: He practiced law with Benjamin Harrison, and married his late wife’s sister (Lucy).

Thomas Morris (1811-1904)
Brigadier General served with Mcclellan (who presumably never gave Morris the credit he deserved). He played a vital role in what led to the creation of West Virginia. During the Western Virginia Campaign in 1861, he cleared the Confederate army from western Virginia, which fostered pro-Union sentiment. Post-war: Morris returned to the railroad industry, becoming president of the Indianapolis and St. Louis Railroad in 1868. In 1877, he oversaw the construction of the Indiana State House.

Joseph Bingham (died 12/13/1898)
Bingham was the state chairman of the Democratic Party and editor of the Indianapolis Daily State Sentinel, where he was a vocal critic of the Republican-controlled government and its policies. He was caught up in the unconstitutional treason trials in Indiana and turned government witness in the Copperhead conspiracy trial.

Eli Lilly (1838-1898)
Lilly, a pharmacist and drugstore owner, enlisted in the Army in 1861 and moved up the ranks. He ended the war as a Colonel. Post-war: Lilly lost his wife to malaria on a plantation he bought in Mississippi. Moving back to Indiana, he ultimately started a medical manufacturing company.

Benjamin Harrison (1833-1901)
In 1862, Harrison helped Governor Morton with the recruitment of troops. That same year Harrison was commissioned as a captain. He was part of Sherman’s March to the Sea. Post-War: Harrison practiced law. He represented the government in cases including the treason trials of 1864. (See Bingham.) H was a US Senator and the 23rd President of the US. (Cleveland won the popular vote, but Harrison the electoral college. Interesting tidbit: Cleveland was a two-term president—immediately before and after Harrison.)

Robert Foster (1834-1903)
Foster enlisted as a private but quickly rose through the ranks. He was promoted to captain in Lew Wallace’s 11th Indiana Infantry Regiment. He played a prominent role in the siege of Petersburg and the Appomattox Campaign, and saw action in the Battle of Rich Mountain in western Virginia. Most unusual, he never lost a battle. Post-war: Foster served as a member of the commission that tried the Lincoln conspirators, as did Lew Wallace.

George McGinnis (1826-1910)
McGinnis volunteered for three months of service in the 11th Indiana Volunteer Infantry Regiment that Lew Wallace raised. He rose through the ranks along with Wallace. Post-war: He ran a fiduciary business and served in local political offices. His daughter Mary Ella died in 1875; the family plot includes a statue made in her likeness.

Edward Black (1853-1872)
Black was the youngest soldier in the Civil War. He started out as a drummer boy in the 21st Indiana Volunteer Infantry at eight years of age and then enlisted as a regular soldier with his father. His drum is on display in the Children’s Museum of Indianapolis.

Sarah More (1815-1898)
More was a stage actress in New York in the mid-1800s. Her link to the Civil War? She starred in a production of Money with John Wilkes Booth.

TV movie review: Hoosiers: The Story of Indiana–Split Rails to Steel Rails

Hoosiers: The Story of Indiana is a PBS documentary series based on the book by famous Indiana historian James H. Madison. The documentary series is split into four parts: Birth of a State, Split Rails to Steel Rails, the 20th Century, and the Next Indiana.

Split Rails to Steel Rails covers the period of time from the Civil War to World War I and focuses on war, business, and culture. The documentary is narrated by Madison and includes interviews with various people, like the Editorial Page Editor of the Northwest Indiana Times (Marc Chase) and a retired Chief Justice of the Indiana Supreme Court (Randall J. Shepherd).

War seems to hold a special place in the Hoosier state, and Indiana has more than its share of war memorials. Indiana sent the most men to fight in the Civil War, second only to Delaware—two-thirds of eligible-aged Indiana men served in the Civil War. Troops were organized by ethnic groups and counties, which meant that they were often fighting side-by-side with family and neighbors.

Lew Wallace, later known as the author of Ben-Hur, selected the site of what was the State Fairgrounds—and what is currently Military Park—as the site for training volunteers. This training site—Camp Morton, named after the governor during the Civil War—morphed into a POW camp.

From 1862 to 1865, Colonel Richard Owen managed this camp of 3,000 POWs. Despite 50 prisoners dying per month, after the end of the war, the prisoners raised funds to have a sculpture of Owen made in honor of the humaneness he showed told the Confederate soldiers in the camp. (You can see the sculpture in the Indiana Statehouse.)

Governor Morton had a decidedly difficult time financially supporting the Union and funding the government. Democrat Copperheads, or those Democrats who didn’t support the Union, controlled the legislature and blocked the state contributing money to the Union cause. In a seemingly modern-day move, the Republicans fled the legislature so no quorum was possible. In retaliation, the Democrats decided not to dispense ANY money, which meant that the Indiana government risked grinding to a halt.

In an attempt to keep the government running, Governor Morton turned to the Madison banker James Lanier for funding. In 1861, the two decided that Lanier would buy $400,000 worth of bonds—perhaps not quite an above-board tactic—to prevent government shutdown.

How much of the war was waged on Indiana soil? Not much. The only battle was Morgan’s Raid in 1863, when Confederate troops crossed the Ohio River at Corydon. They blazed a path of destruction, mistakenly thinking that sympathizers to the Southern cause would rise up. None did. (I recently learned of another foray across the river, by Adam “Stovepipe” Johnson at Newburgh. Basically, Johnson’s foray was a hit and run excursion, intent on gathering supplies and firearms before retreating back over the river.)

Originally, Indiana settlements existed by waterways, the quickest means of transportation that connected communities. But in the second half of the 1800s came the railroad, which changed the pattern of population in the state. The steepest incline was in Madison; the Reuben Wells steam engine, specifically made for the Madison incline, can be seen at the Children’s Museum in Indianapolis.

Indianapolis became a transportation hub for the railroads. In 1853, the first Union Station, meant to be one station shared by all railroads, was built in Indianapolis. By 1890, 120 trains were stopping in Indianapolis every day.

An equally impressive system of interurbans crisscrossed Indiana towns. Eventually, with the rise of the automobile (that had an incredible early history in Indiana) came the demise of the interurbans. (The only one that exists today is the South Shore.)

Indiana was a big center of business, from the Ball Company in Muncie to Eli Lilly, L.S. Ayres, and Madam C.J. Walker in Indianapolis. The limestone of southern Indiana was quarried for buildings such as the statehouse (1886) and the Soldiers and Sailors Monument (1902). In the 1870s, the coal mines suffered through strikes and unions, resulting in the firing of workers and the hiring of their children. (Children were less apt to cause trouble or unionize, and could be paid less.)

Into this maelstrom came Eugene V. Debs. Originally he believed that the best course of action for workers was to do a good job; managers would recognize the good work with good pay. Eventually, faced with reality, he changed his views and organized unions (the railroad union in 1894) and strikes (think the Pullman strike). Change, he saw, was only possible through politics. In his core, he believed in the dignity of all people.

In the late 1800s, 13% of the population in Indianapolis was German. German immigrants looked around at the culture and traditions around them and concluded that it was lacking in refinement (ouch!). Instead, they created their own vibrant society with German organizations, clubs, symphonies, theatre, and schools.

World War I destroyed the German culture in Indiana. Kurt Vonnegut, famous 20th century Hoosier author, described how he was raised ignorant of the rich heritage of German music, literature, culture, and language—all because Germans in the early 20th century assumed that ignorance of their culture and traditions was necessary in order to be patriotic. Bits and pieces still exist today as German festivals or the Athenaeum (Das Deutsche Haus, which incidentally Vonnegut’s father was an architect for) in Indianapolis.

The documentary continues with a third part that looks at Indiana from World War I to the present time.