Coming of the Yankees

Bill Hoogan' Mule by J. M. Hollowell

Bill Hoogan owned a gray mule
Just twenty-one years old.
Bill swore the mule was gentle
And worth his weight in gold.

Bill harnessed up that gray mule
To come to town one day – 
Jack Collier’s train was passing,
 And the gray mule ran away.

The mule came tearing down the pike
Like calvary in the war,
And at a sudden curve he met
A great big touring car.

He struck the car square in front
And busted every tire,
The car went up clear out of sight
I don’t know how much higher.  

The broken fragments of that car
For minutes kept coming down,
But Hoogans and his gray mule
Came jogging along to town.

A courting pair were in the car,
Filled with joy and mirth;
They hardly ever knew jut how
They left old mother earth.

The one who will find the lovers
Can earn a right good pile;
Hoogans keeps contending through,
They’ll come down after awhile.  

COMING OF THE YANKEES

(By J. M. Hollowell)

Since I stopped writing of my early recollections of Goldsboro, I have been asked by some of the young folks why I did not tell more about the Yankee army coming to Goldsboro in 1865, and what they did, etc. And I have promised some of them to write a little along that line.

General Braxton Bragg was in command of the Confederate forces in this department. Goldsboro was the objective point of three federal forces, to-wit: General Sherman, on his famous march from Atlanta, was headed for this place, coming via Fayetteville; General Terry from Wilmington, who was following pretty closely the line of the A.C.L. railway (then the old Wilmington and Weldon railroad), and General Schofield’s army advancing from New Bern.  

Gen. Joseph E. Johnston’s army was in Sherman’s front, slowly retreating. Terry’s force was not very large, hence no great anxiety was felt on his account. The greatest immediate menace to the town appeared to be Schofield’s forces from New Bern, hence Bragg threw the major part of his forces in front of Schofield below Kinston. This was about the middle of March. There were several days skirmishing near Southwest creek between Bragg and Schofield, Bragg capturing a thousand prisoners, but being largely outnumbered he gradually fell back, Schofield closely following him.  

On Sunday, March 19, the battle of Bentonville was fought by Johnston and Sherman. All day at intervals the cannonading could be heard. The result of that battle hurried up the retreat of Bragg, otherwise he would have been prevented by Sherman from making a junction with Johnston. Bragg’s army began evacuating the place on Tuesday morning, the 21st, and his rear guard passed out as Schofield’s advance guard came in, there being some firing between them, thought I don’t think there were any casualties. Bragg fell back across Little River via Hooks’ bridge and halted near Walters.  

The first I saw of Schofield’s men was about three o’clock in the evening. They came marching in Boundary street, west, following the direction Bragg had gone. The Yankees had come in via Webbtown, and were all over town, the larger part being halted near Jumping Run. At the time of which I write nearly all the land now owned by J. M. Grantham and the land where Bellevue is was in piney woods, and by dark all the space I have mentioned, including along where Griffin’s mill stands, was ablaze with camp fires, as well as all the vacant lots in the northern section of town, and the tearing down of fences, barns, stables and outhouses could be seen and heard in every direction. 

The building I occupied was near the corner of George and Boundary streets. When the first ones marched by two or three of the men opened the gate and came up on the piazza. They were partly drunk and asked for whiskey. They were told there was none there. By this time a mounted officer rode up hurriedly, and dismounting, ran into the piazza and ordered the men away, kicking one of them as the went out. The officer then asked if a guard was desired, and being answered in the affirmative, he immediately placed a guard at the gate. Pretty soon an officer came and said that Colonel Classen, of the One Hundred and Thirty-second New York regiment, wanted to occupy two rooms and the kitchen of the premises. Well, it is hardly necessary to say they occupied them; and I will do them the justice of saying that I never met a more gentlemanly behaved set of men than Colonel Classen and his staff.

On Thursday, the 23rd, Sherman’s army reached this place. I never knew when Terry got here, no do I know whether his army as a whole ever entered the town, or remained over in the Genoa section, but there was within a circle of five or six miles, around Goldsboro, more than 100,000 Federal soldiers and Federal "bummers," because they bummed under the protection of the Stars and Stripes. They pillaged the country for miles around; took what they wanted and destroyed what they did not want. Corn and fodder, meat and lard, hogs, cattle, chickens, geese, ducks, horses, buggies, wagons, everything was taken. They would go to a farm house, take the man's horses, hitch them to his wagon, load the last piece of meat or the last barrel of corn and drive off, and the owner, if he was wise, said nothing. I have seen these foraging gangs come in with beeves and hogs they had shot down, split in half undressed, strung across horses' backs. Out at Dr. Goelet's place, near Walters, they took the doctor's carriage -- a very fine old vehicle -- and loaded his bacon into it and drove it to town.  

These pillagings were mostly within a few miles of this place; they were dubious about going ten or fifteen miles off unless in heavy forces. There were scouting parties of Confederates who occasionally ran up with them, and when they did it was bad luck for the Yankees, and many a one went off who never returned. It was bushwhacking, in all the name implies. In some instances where a vehicle could not be brought off, they would take an axe and destroy it by chopping the spokes. All kinds of deviltry that a cool, shrewd, ingenious Yankee could invent was resorted to.

I heard of an old woman and several small children, from whom they took everything except a little meal and a jug of sorghum, and not content, they took quids of tobacco from their mouths and dropped in the jug. Just across the lattice bridge, it was said, they killed several hundred horses and mules which they had taken from the people.

In town, whenever the officers wanted quarters, they would simply go and tell the family the number of rooms they wanted; if there was room enough left for the family, all right, if not, they just had to double up and make out the best they could. While here Sherman occupied part of Mr. Richard Washington's house. Schoffield part of Mr. E. B. Borden's, Howard part of Mr. W. T. Dortch's, Blair part of Mrs. H. M. Dewey's, Slocumb part of Mrs. Alford's, Cox part of Mr. John Everett's and Logan part of Mr. J. C. Slocumb's.

All the stores were taken by the settlers and stocks opened up. The army was paid off while here, and the sutlers did a lively business. New clothing was issued to the troops, and wagon loads of old clothing were left in their camps and given away to the negroes, and for three or four years after the war you could see the negro men dressed up in blue ‑ some with cavalry, some with artillery, and others with infantry stripes. I doubt if there was a half‑dozen yard fences left standing in Goldsboro, unless where there was a guard.  

A great many negroes from the country came to town and were fed by the army. There were but few men here, nearly all in the army. Those who were here were on their good behavior. Rations were issued by the army to a good many white people, some of them as good people as there was in the county. These people were forced by absolute necessity to ask for this help, as the army and "bummers" had stripped them of everything.

The great bulk of the negroes recognized freedom on sight, and availed themselves of their rights at once. Occasionally an old man or woman did not leave their late masters, and appeared willing to remain, but their owners had nothing for them to do, and still less to support them on. There was, of course, some insolence shown by the negroes toward the white people, but not as much as might have been expected upon so great a changed condition, coupled with the bad advice given them by the Yankee soldiers.

As a whole I don't know but what we had little to complain of in the negroes' behavior.

Next week I will tell of the doings of some of the soldiers and "bummers," and the retribution that overtook them.

WAR-TIME REMINISCENCES   By J. M. Hollowell

In writing last week of the depredations of the Yankee army, I stated that they were often run up with by scouting parties of Confederates.

A gentleman, as honorable and responsible as there is in the county and who was a member of one of these scouting parties, told me a short time since of an outrage, committed only a few miles from Goldsboro, that if I had ever heard of before, I had forgotten it.

He said that a white Yankee sergeant with six negro soldiers, went to the home of unprotected women and caught on the premises by Frank Coley and a squad of his men; the negroes were promptly shot dead in the yard, and the white sergeant, who begged piteously for his worthless life, was strung up by his heels to a tree, and his throat cut from ear to ear. This gentleman was not in Coley's squad but came upon the scene soon after this merited punishment had been administered to the white sergeant and his colored chums in crime.

This gentleman also told me about a gang of horse thieves who operated around here and in the eastern counties below here. It was a well organized gang, the head or leader was a Yankee named Tanner, he had relay stations for every twenty‑five or thirty miles, at which some of the gang was always on hand. This gang was not composed entirely of Yankees, but a mean Southern man or two in each section, was taken into it. The line of stations or relays extended from eastern North Carolina through the mountains in Tennessee; their mode of operations was in this way: One or more horses would be stolen tonight around Goldsboro, early in the night. The men who stole them would carry them at once to the first station and deliver them there to the runners at that station, who would carry them to the next station, this being continued until their final destination was reached. The parties who stole them would return during the night and be on hand to tender their services to the losers of the stock, to help hunt for it, thus throwing off suspicion. 

This stealing of horses was carried on for quite a while, but after so long, the leader and the route was discovered. Tanner found a burial place in a marl hole in Wayne county. It was pretty well known by a good many people who the undertaker was that officiated at Tanner's burial, and he was suspected by the Federal officers, and I believe was arrested at one time, but did not stay arrested, but made himself scarce around here until Andrew Johnson issued his amnesty proclamation. This undertaker afterwards lived for many years in Goldsboro, and died here fifteen or twenty years ago.

After the burial of Tanner, the horse stealing ceased. There are doubtless a few men in Wayne county today (I shall not call their names) who managed the moving of many a mule from the government stables of the Yankees during the summer and fall of 1865. These men ran them off and made sale of them with the consent of the officials in charge they sharing the profit, the lost stock being reported on the property roll as stolen by the Rebels and Freedmen.

Some of the Yankee quartermasters and commissaries did not mind making such reports to cover up their stealings. I struck up with one who was frank enough to admit it.

His office was up at the Atlantic depot and I heard he was in need of a clerk and having had some experience in quartermasters' and commissary work, I went to see him about getting a job. I went in and told him I had heard he wanted a clerk, and that I was looking for work. He said, "Yes, I want an affidavit clerk." This was a new one to me, and I replied: "I have had some little experience in the work of the quartermaster and commissary department, but did not know whether I would understand affidavit work; that I did not know what kind of work it was." The Captain burst out in a big laugh, and says, "Look here my friend, don't you know what affidavit clerk means?" I acknowledged my ignorance. He then asked me if I had never heard of them among our officers, and I told him I had not.

He then very kindly proceeded to enlighten me. Says he: "Suppose I should receive a cargo of commissary stores for issue to the troops, and I should sell a portion of the stores to outsiders for cash, and pocket the money; when I went to make my report to the department at the end of the month I would be short the quantity I had sold, would I not?" I replied it looked that way to me. Then says he, "This is where the work of an affidavit clerk come in. I want him to make and sign an affidavit that he of his knowledge knew that when the cargo of stores was received that the quantity had been checked short and was never received." Then turning to me says, "Young man, you know what the position is, do you want it?"

I replied. "No sir, I do not."

"Very well," he replied, "I have no other vacancy in my office." As I started to leave the office I turned to him and says, "Captain, do you expect to find a clerk?" and he replied, "Of course I do; no trouble to have a man detailed from the ranks to fill this position." There may have been such proceedings among the officers of our army, but if there was it never came under my observation. I certainly never heard of affidavit clerks before this Yankee Captain offered me such a position.

In writing of war times, I occasionally think of something laughable, for, serious as the business was and the suffering and privations and starvation, too, attending it, the soldiers saw a good deal of fun, and enjoyed it, and were ready at all times to give or take a joke.

In the latter part of the war, they were always ready to take anything they could get in the way of something to eat or drink.

I remember an incident in Wilmington in the winter of '63 and '64. My company was going provost duty there, our quarters being the old "Pilot House" on Water street. At that time there was a good many vessels running the blockade from Nassau to Wilmington. Hardly a week passed that one or more vessels did not come in. On this particular occasion there was a large blockage runner tied up to the wharf about opposite Oldham's mill, three or four blocks from our quarters. The provost guard route was under our quarters. One Sunday night, Lieut. Fort of a South Carolina regiment, was officer of the guard and I was sergeant of the guard. About eleven o'clock we received a request to do to the blockage runner at once, as there was trouble aboard. The lieutenant and myself took a couple of lines of soldiers and double‑quicked to the vessel. We found the captain, a fat, big‑bellied Dutchman, standing on the wharf, so scared that he could scarcely speak. Some of his crew were on a drunk and had run him off his ship, and he had sent for us to restore order and protect him.  

We arrested three or four of the drunken fellows and sent them to the guard house and put a sentinel aboard. After everything was quieted down and the captain had recovered from his scare, he was profuse in his thanks, and insisted on the lieutenant and myself going in his cabin and taking a cup of coffee. As Fort nor myself had neither one tasted coffee in two years we promptly accepted the invitation and went in. He produced a bottle of French brandy that he said was eight years old and told us to help ourselves. (Whoever knew a soldier to refuse?) We filled the glasses as full as we could and drank it. After a while we took a cup of good strong coffee with loaf sugar to sweeten it. It was fine sure. We then returned to the guard room, where Fort took off his coat and sword, lay down on a bunk and was soon asleep. As sergeant of the guard, I had something to do besides going to sleep. I soon discovered that Fort was drunk, and if I had not had to keep stirring in the bitter cold air, I would have been in the same fix.

About four o'clock I began to want some more coffee, and I began to concoct a plan to get it. I had been a soldier long enough to know the power of gold lace on your sleeves. I pulled off my coat, put on Lieut. Fort's coat and sword and put out for the ship. I found the captain walking the deck. As soon as he saw me, he came to the gang plank and invited me to come aboard. I asked him if there had been any further trouble, and if there was any other assistance I could render, etc., he calling me Lieutenant all the while. Fort and I were about the same size and looked a little alike, except I was the best looking. Finally he put out his bottle again and his coffee, and I took another pull at his coffee and went back to the guard room and changed my coat and sword. Fort was still asleep. In about two hours he awoke, got up, put on his coat and sword and left the room. When he came back, he sat down and was still for probably ten minutes, looking straight at the fire, then turning to me he said: "Sergeant, have I left the room from the time we came back from the ship until I left a half‑hour ago?" I told him he had not. "Well," says he, "I don't understand it." I asked what was the matter, and he says: "I have just been up to the ship to see how things were getting along and the Captain spoke of the visit I had made when I had changed sentinels. (I had changed sentinels when I went), and I knew I had not been back before, and I could not understand it. I believe that old Dutchman is drunk and thinks I have been back there before." I replied that it was quite likely.  

Some days afterwards, Fort and I were on the street and the Dutch Captain passed and saluted. After he got by, Fort says: "I reckon the old fellow has got sober at last. The idea of the old fellow think I went aboard his vessel when I was asleep in the guard room."

I could not keep it any longer, and told him how I had used his coat and sword to get another cup of coffee. He laughed heartily and said: "I expect I was drunker than the Dutch Captain."

That was the best coffee that I have ever drank, and I have drank coffee at the French market in New Orleans. And that was good French brandy, too, and I am satisfied that I had never drank any genuine French brandy before that night and have never drunk any since. That brandy was all right. It was strong enough to stand alone and it reached the spot when you drank it.

My company was stationed quite awhile on Bald Head Island, opposite Southport. We had in our company an old fellow from Westchester county, Penn., named J. Miller Hampson. While on Bald Head, the old fellow got in very poor health ‑ had no appetite for such rations as we were getting. 

Hampson remarked on day that he wished he could get a squirrel; that he thought he could eat it. One of the company, John L. Pate, heard him and told him he would try to get him one. Pate went off up the island to the government stables, where there were hundreds of rats, some of them almost as big as squirrels. He soon caught one of the big fellows and dressed it nicely and went back to camp and going to Hampson's tent said:

"Uncle Miller, I heard you say you wanted a squirrel and I have brought you this one."

Hampson asked him the price. Pate told him he was welcome to it; that he was always willing to do anything he could for a sick soldier. Hampson thanked him for his kindness and went off to the cook tent to cook it.

Some hours afterwards Pate saw Hampson sitting by his tent, smoking, and said: "Uncle Miller, did you enjoy your squirrel?" He replied: "Yes, John. I boiled it first and made my some soup; then I fried it, and it was good. I relished it more than anything I have ate in a long time and I am so thankful to you for your kindness."

The joke was too good for Pate to keep and it was not long before the men were teasing Hampson; but he took it good humoredly.

The Old Veteran's Picnic

The Thomas Ruffin Camp of Confederate Veterans, held their annual picnic at Ham's springs on Thursday, August 12. By 8 o'clock the people began coming in, some walking, others in buggies, wagons and autos, and by noon there was probably 2,000 people on the grounds. Upwards of one hundred old veterans were present, and a right lively old set they were. They ranged in age from 61 to 94 years, there being one man, Levi Carter, of New Hope township, who has passed his 94th year, and looks as if he might round out his one hundred years.

The annual election of officers was held, and the following officers elected: T. W. Slocumb, Commander; A. J. Brown, Lieutenant‑Commander; W. G. Hollowell, Major; Dr. J. B. Kennedy, Surgeon; Rev. Jacob Hill, Chaplain; R. P. Howell, Quartermaster and A. B. Hollowell, Adjutant.  

The Daughters of the Confederacy of the Thomas Ruffin Camp who were present, then presented thirty crosses of honor to those of the old veterans who had not heretofore received them.

Col. Jos. E. Robinson was present, and being called upon, delivered a most eloquent and patriotic address. Upon its completion, a vote of thanks and three cheers were given Col. Robinson, and the thanks of the camp were also voted Mr. Haywood D. Ham for the liberality and untiring efforts he had shown in making the picnic a success.

Dinner was then announced, and it is needless to say that the long tables were covered with the best that the best people in the world (Wayne County people) could provide, including "cue." It was a most enjoyable occasion.

Some six or eight deaths of members since last years meetings were reported. And appropriate resolutions expressive of the sorrow felt by the members of the camp at the death of Dr. W. H. H. Cobb, were passed and ordered spread upon the records of the camp. -- J.M.H. 

For a number of years after the war the Government ran the Freedmen's Bureau throughout the South. The officers looked after the interests of the brethren in black, and some of them assumed to exercise a good deal of provost marshal authority.

Some of these officers were very nice men, and discharged their duties in a quiet and peaceable way, without any friction with the citizens. But occasionally an egotistical and tyrannical ass was found among them. I remember one of this kind who was stationed here for quite a while, named Capt. R. O. Glavis. This man, in his own estimation, was a much bigger man than U.S. Grant ever was. He was a fractious arbitrary son-of-a-gun.  

On one occasion there had been some trouble between a negro and Bill Hughes, who lived on the south side of Neuse river. Glavis had Hughes arrested and fined him fifty dollars, and in default of immediate payment, he put Hughes in jail. The late C. F. R. Kornegay was in town that day, and he went to W. G. Hollowell and proposed that they go to Glavis and stand Hughes' security until the following Saturday (one week) to give him a chance to get up the amount of the fine. Glavis consented, and turned Hughes out.

During the week there came a big freshet, so that there was no passing from the south side, and consequently when Saturday came, Hughes did not put in an appearance. Glavis sent one of his deputies, a negro named Grant Sasser, to Hollowell's office, at the court house with instructions to arrest and bring him before him. Sasser went to "Bill" and told him his business. He was told to go on back and tell Glavis that he would be there in a few minutes. Sasser replied his ordered where to carry him. Bill says:

"Grant, one thing is certain; I am not going to be carried there by you. You can go along; I will follow."

Arriving at Glavis' office, he turned to Bill and says: "Your friend Hughes has not come and paid his fine."

Bill told him that it probably was on account of being unable to cross the river. Glavis says: "Well, the hundred dollars must be paid at once." Bill says: "The fine was only fifty dollars." Glavis replied: "The fine was fifty, and I charged fifty more to turn him out." Bill told him that was an outrage, and he would not pay the hundred dollars. Glavis says: "Unless you do I will send you to jail." Bill told him he could do as he liked, but he would not pay it, and in a few minutes Bill was marched off on his crutches to jail.

In an hour the news had spread over town that Capt. Glavis had put Bill Hollowell in jail, and excitement ran high. Threats of breaking down the jail were made, and of lynching Glavis, but better judgment prevailed. Glavis was gone to by friends and told what the feeling was, and that it would be wise to turn Bill out, which he did, after he had been confined a few hours.

On Monday Hughes, who had heard that Bill had been put in jail, hurried to Goldsboro. He went to Bill and told him he should have been in on Saturday but for the high water, but says: "I have only been able to raise forty‑five dollars." Bill says: "Well, let's go and see Glavis." When they reached his office, Bill says: "Well, Captain, here is Hughes, and his reason for not being here on Saturday was just as I told you. He is now ready to pay his fine. He does not understand he owes but fifty dollars and if you will remit the extra fifty he will pay it." Glavis replied that he could not do that, as he had sent in his report to headquarters, reporting the amount at one hundred dollars; but says: "Let Hughes give his note for fifty dollars, and I will send it to headquarters and recommend that it be remitted, and my deputy over there (pointing to old man Ack Holland) will attend to you." Bill, knowing that a note for fifty dollars by Hughes was worthless, accepted the proposition, and, going into Holland's office, asked for pen and paper to write the note. After writing it, he told Hughes to sign it, which he did; and delivered to Holland. Bill then turned to Hughes and says: "Let's go." Bidding Holland good-bye, they departed.  

Just as they were leaving the building, Hughes said to Bill: "I have not paid that forty-five dollars yet," Bill replied: "never mind about forty-five dollars; they have your note for fifty dollars and the wisest thing for you to do is to vacate Goldsboro in the quickest possible time," which advice Hughes promptly heeded.  

I don't know whether the failure to pay the forty-five dollars every came to Glavis' mind or not, but I am pretty sure the note given by Hughes was never paid.  

The booklet War-Time Reminiscences and Other Selections by J. M. Hollowell was contributed by Alton Parnell and digitized by Rita Korbach.  Printed with permission.

Other topics in this series:

About these writings and J. M. Hollowell - A Character Sketch
Some Early Recollections of Wayne County - But More Particularly of Goldsboro
Politics 1852 - 1861 
Early Residents, Soldiers, Railroad Workers, Early Churches
Early Trade
Webbtown, Graded school, Pates

War-Time Reminiscences
More War-time Reminiscences: Fort Macon, April 21, 1862
Early History of Goldsboro

Wayne County, NCGenWeb  Published 10 October 1996  Diana Holland Faust
This page added 24 October 2000    Last updated 16 February 2007