A Divided Kentucky

Aaron Astor

In 1926 historian E. Merton Coulter described Kentucky during the Civil War as a “crouching lion, stretched east and west . . . the thoroughfare of the continent.” Kentucky served as more than the geographic fulcrum of the Union between slave and free states. It also represented the political heart of the Union, its politicians, most notably Henry Clay, having offered Union-saving compromise measures since 1820. It had long embraced conservative Unionism, a political tradition that understood “conservative” both as a social orientation (allowing for only gradual change to the institution of slavery) and a political relationship (with the Union buttressing the social order).

Militarily, Kentucky was absolutely critical to the Federal war effort, as the Ohio River would have become an international boundary if Kentucky had joined the Confederacy. Further, tens of thousands of Indianans, Illinoisans, and Ohioans traced their roots to Kentucky, including President Lincoln himself. Capturing the delicate but essential position of his native state, Lincoln commented that to “lose Kentucky is nearly the same as to lose the whole game.” After Fort Sumter, Kentuckians hoped to stay out of the war altogether, declaring the state “neutral” and pledging support for neither belligerent. But when Confederate General Leonidas Polk invaded the southwestern tip of the state in the beginning of September 1861, the legislature immediately declared its support for the Union.

Recognition For William Mahone

Kevin M. Levin*

[Crossposted from the Civil War Memory blog]

Last week's post on the Civil War Memory blog about the unveiling of three plaques honoringVirginia’s post-Civil War black politicians has me thinking about my old buddy, William Mahone. While Mahone is best remembered as the “Hero of the Crater” his role in launching and leading the state’s most successful third-party political movement has largely been forgotten. In Virginia it was intentionally ignored because what came to be known as the Readjuster Party (1879-83) was bi-racial. The arc from Mahone’s role in preventing a Union breakthrough outside Petersburg that left scores of black Union soldiers massacred on the Crater battlefield to creating an opportunity for the largest number of black Virginians to vote, go to school and serve in positions of local and state government just a few short years later could not be more striking. Could anyone in 1865 anticipate that it would be a former Confederate general who would bring Reconstruction to Virginia?

Is it time to recognize William Mahone publicly in some shape or form? I say yes, if for no other reason than it would help to bring into sharper focus a piece of Virginia’s history that places yesterday’s dedication in its proper context. In other words, post-Civil War Virginia makes absolutely no sense without a reference to Mahone and the Readjuster Party.  It matters, not simply because it’s part of Virginia’s history, but because it has something important to teach us as well. The period following the official years of Reconstruction (1865-1877) did not inevitably lead to Jim Crow. Interracial cooperation was not only possible in the South between 1877 and the turn of the twentieth century but a reality for a few short years in Virginia. Virginia’s Reconstruction was not forced on it by “carpetbaggers” and “scalawags” but by legitimate stakeholders, who believed that a brighter future could be forged for both races. Finally, there is something juicy about all of this being introduced by a former Confederate general.

Hemingway, South Carolina, and Reconstruction

Heather Cox Richardson

Drie’s map of Columbia,
South Carolina (1872).

The recent news that a private collection of Hemingway works has gone to the University of South Carolina brings to mind the location of that very beautiful university library. The land on which the University of South Carolina’s Thomas Cooper Library sits was the parade ground of the U.S. troops when they were stationed in Columbia after the Civil War.

Everyone who teaches Reconstruction knows the powerful significance of the federal troops in Columbia. Indeed, the idea that President Rutherford B. Hayes removed the troops from the South in 1877, an “event” that many Americans believe ended Reconstruction, is based on the Columbia troops. That Hayes removed the troops from the South in 1877 is incorrect. What he did was to order the U.S. troops stationed in Columbia to move away from the South Carolina State House, where they had been protecting the Republican governor from mobs determined to install Redeemer Wade Hampton in the governor’s chair. The troops pulled away, Hampton became governor, and Republican rule in post-Civil War South Carolina was over.

From The Highland Weekly News,
May 03, 1877, Ohio, p. 1.

Until I actually saw the proximity of the State House to the parade ground, I really didn’t understand just how small the scale of this event was. In the 1870s, you could all but throw a stone from the troop barracks to the State House, and the four blocks between the two were mostly fields. When the president “removed the troops,” they simply marched back down the street. It probably took less than ten minutes.

On this wonderful 1872 map, the State House is obvious in the lower right corner; the parade ground is to the left of the number 30, which is the army barracks. The map can be expanded and manipulated. Doing so makes it hit home just how small a town we’re talking about when we talk about the fight over the South Carolina State House during Reconstruction.