Saturday, July 28, 2012
A.F.K.
I've been kidnapped by three insane women and taken to Pittsburgh, so apparently I'm unavailable to blog...hey, take it up with them, not me. Shall be back online as soon as I escape their dastardly clutches.
P.S. These girls are evil. Approach with caution.
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
Ellen Forbes Tolman
Pension File: 574183, 335290 (Special Act)
P.O.: Lawrence, Massachusetts
Service: various hospitals around D.C. from July, 1861 to February, 1863
Applied: 1886
Status: Accepted
Brace yourselves: here's a pension file I don't actually have. Horror! So why do I have her up here? Until a few weeks ago, I had no idea Tolman existed. I didn't find her in my pre-D.C. survey for special acts, nor did she turn up while I was going through legislative files. Instead, I found her through something of a back door. While I was in D.C. she turned up in one of the files (Clara Hoyt) as a pension attorney. I put her on the back burner though in favor of other rabbit holes. When she turned up as attorney for two more women, and a witness for a third, I knew I had to do some serious digging. Until that point, I had no idea she was ever a nurse! But the more I dug, the more I realized I needed to include her in my study.
Here's a brief sketch based on what I've been able to find: According to her petition to Congress for a Special Act, Ellen Forbes (her maiden name) left her home in Maine just after the Battle of Bull Run to nurse in Washington. She showed no signed of stopping until February, 1863, when she contracted typhus. In her petition to Congress she wrote that "her attack of fever was proceeded by convulsions, and for twelve days thereafter all was a blank to her." Tolman pulled through, but malarial abscesses kept her bed-bound for several more months, and on crutches for several more. She returned to Washington in September, but new abscesses appeared and she returned home, sick again.
Here's the silver lining to the cloud: in February, 1864, Ellen Forbes married Eleazer Tolman from the 2nd Maine. Schultz hints that they met while Tolman was in the hospital in D.C.--he was suffering from pleurisy and was discharged in 1862. The two settled down in Lawrence, Massachusetts, and had three children. Tolman applied for, and was granted, a $25 pension in 1886, endorsed by VP Hamlin and several respected veterans. Then, in 1892, she pops in three completely unrelated pension files: Clara B. Hoyt, Emily Taylor, and Georgiana Smith. There is nothing I can find to link these three women together other than the fact they served as nurses. They never served in the same hospital, lived in the same area, nothing. I'm betting, though, that it's a connection through the WRC or the Army Nurses Association. The only way to find out for sure is to go look through her papers at the Maine Historical Society. I love it when my nurses leave a paper trail.
P.O.: Lawrence, Massachusetts
Service: various hospitals around D.C. from July, 1861 to February, 1863
Applied: 1886
Status: Accepted
Brace yourselves: here's a pension file I don't actually have. Horror! So why do I have her up here? Until a few weeks ago, I had no idea Tolman existed. I didn't find her in my pre-D.C. survey for special acts, nor did she turn up while I was going through legislative files. Instead, I found her through something of a back door. While I was in D.C. she turned up in one of the files (Clara Hoyt) as a pension attorney. I put her on the back burner though in favor of other rabbit holes. When she turned up as attorney for two more women, and a witness for a third, I knew I had to do some serious digging. Until that point, I had no idea she was ever a nurse! But the more I dug, the more I realized I needed to include her in my study.
Here's a brief sketch based on what I've been able to find: According to her petition to Congress for a Special Act, Ellen Forbes (her maiden name) left her home in Maine just after the Battle of Bull Run to nurse in Washington. She showed no signed of stopping until February, 1863, when she contracted typhus. In her petition to Congress she wrote that "her attack of fever was proceeded by convulsions, and for twelve days thereafter all was a blank to her." Tolman pulled through, but malarial abscesses kept her bed-bound for several more months, and on crutches for several more. She returned to Washington in September, but new abscesses appeared and she returned home, sick again.
Here's the silver lining to the cloud: in February, 1864, Ellen Forbes married Eleazer Tolman from the 2nd Maine. Schultz hints that they met while Tolman was in the hospital in D.C.--he was suffering from pleurisy and was discharged in 1862. The two settled down in Lawrence, Massachusetts, and had three children. Tolman applied for, and was granted, a $25 pension in 1886, endorsed by VP Hamlin and several respected veterans. Then, in 1892, she pops in three completely unrelated pension files: Clara B. Hoyt, Emily Taylor, and Georgiana Smith. There is nothing I can find to link these three women together other than the fact they served as nurses. They never served in the same hospital, lived in the same area, nothing. I'm betting, though, that it's a connection through the WRC or the Army Nurses Association. The only way to find out for sure is to go look through her papers at the Maine Historical Society. I love it when my nurses leave a paper trail.
Monday, July 23, 2012
Schlesinger Library
Today I took the T into Cambridge and visited Schlesinger Library. Schlesinger is part of the Radcliffe Institute at Harvard University and specializes in Women's History, so I was hoping it would have some relevant files. Schlesinger did not disappoint. I pulled one file each on Clara Barton, Harriet Patience Dame (president of the Army Nurses Association), and Sallie Joy White (a female journalist who had a letter from Mary A. Livermore). They also had a box of WRC material which I also pulled.
The Barton folder would be interesting to a Barton scholar, but didn't have anything pertaining to my nurses or the Act. Same for Ms. White. Dame's folder was one letter, written to a Mr. Austin and thanking him for making her an honorary member of the Trinity Historical Society. There's nothing substantial in it, but Dame does refer briefly to her work assisting soldiers and nurses as one of the reasons for her late reply.
The gem of the trip was definitely the WRC material. In the file were two rosters, one from 1890 and one from 1895 (so now I can beef up my list of WRC members). There was also an order book from November, 1887 to August, 1892. The orders are from both the national and the state level, mostly announcing newly elected officials, updates on the upcoming yearly convention, or, around Memorial Day, giving patriotic speeches written by the National President. There are, however, snippets. For instance, this bit from General Orders No. 9, dated August 20, 1892:
The Barton folder would be interesting to a Barton scholar, but didn't have anything pertaining to my nurses or the Act. Same for Ms. White. Dame's folder was one letter, written to a Mr. Austin and thanking him for making her an honorary member of the Trinity Historical Society. There's nothing substantial in it, but Dame does refer briefly to her work assisting soldiers and nurses as one of the reasons for her late reply.
The gem of the trip was definitely the WRC material. In the file were two rosters, one from 1890 and one from 1895 (so now I can beef up my list of WRC members). There was also an order book from November, 1887 to August, 1892. The orders are from both the national and the state level, mostly announcing newly elected officials, updates on the upcoming yearly convention, or, around Memorial Day, giving patriotic speeches written by the National President. There are, however, snippets. For instance, this bit from General Orders No. 9, dated August 20, 1892:
"X.X. The Army Nurse Pension Bill, so long pending, passed the House June 28; the Senate, July 26; was signed by President Harrison August 5, 1892, and is now a law. Let us rejoice together that these women have at least received National recognition for their self-sacrificing services during the late war. Though small, $12 per month will add much comfort to their declining years."There is also mention of Certificates of Service issued to army nurses by the WRC--certificates which, if I'm right, turned up in my pension files--and the enormous petition from the Archives, which gives me some context for these pieces. Because the orders list newly elected officers, I also have a list of women who served on the National Pension Committee, when they took office, and when they resigned or left office. Now, if they mention the pensions the WRC awarded, or talk about how the WRC came to support the pension bill, life will be very good. Oh, and did I mention the collection was purcahsed from the Waltham Historical Society back in the 1970s and it looks like there's still some papers there--specifically letters? Time for a field trip.
Rose Russell
Pension File: 1139608, 868306
P.O.: Vicksburg, Mississippi
Service: contract nurse at McPherson Hospital, Vicksburg from 1862 to 1866
Applied: 1892
Status: Accepted
I know, I missed last night. I'm doing penance by posting two nurses tonight. First, as promised, is Rose Russell, formerly Rose Gibson. Like I said in my last post, Russell's file threw me for a loop, because there is nothing in the file to suggest that Russell was black until you hit the death certificate. And there it is: "negro." No where, I repeat, no where in the file is there any hint that this woman was black. I've across several white nurses who moved south after the war; also a fair number who are not literate and signed using a mark, just like Russell. Since the War Department couldn't find any records of her service, there was nothing there to indicate her color, and the people who gave affidavits certainly never mentioned the fact--I suppose they never felt the need. If there's nothing in the application then to suggest Russell was black, did the Bureau know? And did that have anything to do with her getting her pension? Another thing: was this something the Bureau was on the look-out for? I'm keeping in mind the fact that based on the Carded Service Index put together in 1890 of all the recorded nurses the Bureau could find, blacks were mostly listed as laundresses and cooks, not nurses. Based on this, was the Bureau likely to suspect a woman applying as a nurse was black--and did it matter? That is the biggest question here, and the one I keep coming back to: did it matter? I don't have enough black women plugged into my database yet to say one way or the other, but I've seen it go both ways. Clara Watson's application was denied, if you remember that far back, but Malinda Grimes, who served at Yorktown Hospital, managed to get a Special Act through Congress compensating her for her services (not a pension, I know, but the fact she got the Act through at all is impressive)--and I know there are more in my files. Better finish this Database quick before this drives me crazy.
P.O.: Vicksburg, Mississippi
Service: contract nurse at McPherson Hospital, Vicksburg from 1862 to 1866
Applied: 1892
Status: Accepted
I know, I missed last night. I'm doing penance by posting two nurses tonight. First, as promised, is Rose Russell, formerly Rose Gibson. Like I said in my last post, Russell's file threw me for a loop, because there is nothing in the file to suggest that Russell was black until you hit the death certificate. And there it is: "negro." No where, I repeat, no where in the file is there any hint that this woman was black. I've across several white nurses who moved south after the war; also a fair number who are not literate and signed using a mark, just like Russell. Since the War Department couldn't find any records of her service, there was nothing there to indicate her color, and the people who gave affidavits certainly never mentioned the fact--I suppose they never felt the need. If there's nothing in the application then to suggest Russell was black, did the Bureau know? And did that have anything to do with her getting her pension? Another thing: was this something the Bureau was on the look-out for? I'm keeping in mind the fact that based on the Carded Service Index put together in 1890 of all the recorded nurses the Bureau could find, blacks were mostly listed as laundresses and cooks, not nurses. Based on this, was the Bureau likely to suspect a woman applying as a nurse was black--and did it matter? That is the biggest question here, and the one I keep coming back to: did it matter? I don't have enough black women plugged into my database yet to say one way or the other, but I've seen it go both ways. Clara Watson's application was denied, if you remember that far back, but Malinda Grimes, who served at Yorktown Hospital, managed to get a Special Act through Congress compensating her for her services (not a pension, I know, but the fact she got the Act through at all is impressive)--and I know there are more in my files. Better finish this Database quick before this drives me crazy.
Saturday, July 21, 2012
Catherine C. Ryan
Pension File: 1138672, 852811
P.O. New York City
Service: Portsmouth, Virginia; Cliffbourne and Lincoln General Hospitals, Washington D.C.
Applied: 1892
Status: Accepted
One of the things that bugs me about these records (and by "bug" I mean I'm miffed for five seconds, and then immediately hit up Ancestry or double-check the file for things I've missed because I love putting the pieces of the puzzle together) is that every once in a while I come across a file where everything points in one direction, and then you suddenly find a document that puts a completely different spin on it. I found two such folders today: Catherine Ryan gets the spotlight tonight, but Rose Russell will go up tomorrow night. Both did quite a good job saving the eyebrow-raising information until the end of their file.
In Ryan's case, we start off with the basic paperwork: she applied in September, 1892, and was granted a standard $12 pension in 1893, which she drew until her death in September, 1907. Although they couldn't find any evidence of her service at Portsmouth, her service at Cliffbourne and Lincoln General Hospitals, was well-documented (kudos to the War Department--or, rather, the men/clerks in charge of those hospitals). That should have been enough, but the Bureau wrote to L. Edwin Dudley, a steward at Lincoln Hospital, to corroborate Ryan's story. "When I reported at Lincoln General Hospital," Dudley wrote, "Miss C. C. Ryan, then known as "Sister Helen", was the Sister Superior in charge of a band of Sisters of Charity who were performing service there as nurses."
Sisters of Charity frequently served as nurses during the Civil War. In fact, many doctors preferred them to Dix's nurses or other volunteers. So, seeing a Sister appear in the pension record is not surprising. She's actually the third or fourth Sister I've come across. Those, however, identified themselves as former Sisters in their application. The other thing that intrigues me is the fact that every Sister I've found is a former Sister--I'm no expert, but usually when you "take the veil," isn't that supposed to be permanent? Is retiring or leaving something unique to Civil War Sisters of Charity? Katherine Coon has a book on Sisters and their wartime work...time to hit up Amazon.
P.O. New York City
Service: Portsmouth, Virginia; Cliffbourne and Lincoln General Hospitals, Washington D.C.
Applied: 1892
Status: Accepted
One of the things that bugs me about these records (and by "bug" I mean I'm miffed for five seconds, and then immediately hit up Ancestry or double-check the file for things I've missed because I love putting the pieces of the puzzle together) is that every once in a while I come across a file where everything points in one direction, and then you suddenly find a document that puts a completely different spin on it. I found two such folders today: Catherine Ryan gets the spotlight tonight, but Rose Russell will go up tomorrow night. Both did quite a good job saving the eyebrow-raising information until the end of their file.
In Ryan's case, we start off with the basic paperwork: she applied in September, 1892, and was granted a standard $12 pension in 1893, which she drew until her death in September, 1907. Although they couldn't find any evidence of her service at Portsmouth, her service at Cliffbourne and Lincoln General Hospitals, was well-documented (kudos to the War Department--or, rather, the men/clerks in charge of those hospitals). That should have been enough, but the Bureau wrote to L. Edwin Dudley, a steward at Lincoln Hospital, to corroborate Ryan's story. "When I reported at Lincoln General Hospital," Dudley wrote, "Miss C. C. Ryan, then known as "Sister Helen", was the Sister Superior in charge of a band of Sisters of Charity who were performing service there as nurses."
Sisters of Charity frequently served as nurses during the Civil War. In fact, many doctors preferred them to Dix's nurses or other volunteers. So, seeing a Sister appear in the pension record is not surprising. She's actually the third or fourth Sister I've come across. Those, however, identified themselves as former Sisters in their application. The other thing that intrigues me is the fact that every Sister I've found is a former Sister--I'm no expert, but usually when you "take the veil," isn't that supposed to be permanent? Is retiring or leaving something unique to Civil War Sisters of Charity? Katherine Coon has a book on Sisters and their wartime work...time to hit up Amazon.
Thursday, July 19, 2012
Ida L. Martin
Pension File: 776810, 486403 (Special Act)
P.O.: Huntsville, Alabama
Service: nurse at Jeffersonville Hospital, Indiana
Applied: 1890
Status: Accepted
Martin's file is one of the slim ones: 7 papers in total. But it's definitely an interesting one. Ida's first husband, Zelotas H. Martin (love these names!) enlisted in 1862 in Co. M, 5th Michigan Cavalry, part of what would become the famous Custer Brigade. Zelotas died on July 5th, 1863, from wounds received at Gettysburg. Shortly after, Ida was assigned to Jeffersonville General Hospital, and remained there until July 6, 1865. Seems like a logical time to stop working: the war's over, hospitals are closing down. Apparently, Ida had another reason altogether. She was suffering from what she termed "paralysis of the nerves" and could no longer work. I don't know what that translates to in modern terms, but whatever it is, it's bad, because within a few years, Ida had one leg amputated below the knee. The second was amputated a few years later. Somewhere in the midst of all this, though, Ida met her second husband, Andrew J. Martin, also a Union soldier, and the two were married on August 3, 1868.
Ida and Andrew moved to Huntsville sometime before 1870, and continued to live there for the next twenty odd years. By 1890, Andrew was getting too old to support himself and an invalid wife, and Ida petitioned for a pension based on her disability. It looks like the fact that her service had so clearly disabled her allowed her to ignore the precedents set for how much to pay for nurses pensions--poor old Berry and Cockrell must have been miffed--because she won a $24 pension, twice the going rate. Martin's case is one of the first times I've seen a nurse so clearly disabled as a result of her service. Usually they list "general disability," "rheumatism," or just old age, sometimes linked to their service. I've had several cases of malarial poisoning, chronic diarrhea, broken bones, deafness, and in one or two cases actual gunshot wounds, but nothing approaching what Martin endured. It's time to dig out the medical reference books and figure out just what kind of "paralysis of the nerves" means and why it caused her to lose her legs.
On a side note, heading in to Boston within the next few days to hit up Schlesinger and Houghton Libraries at Harvard, finally check out Memorial Hall, and maybe swing by the Boston Archives and Massachusetts Archives if I have the time. They have more Barton papers, some Dix papers, and letters from Harriet Patience Dame which, fingers crossed, should be interesting. Also going to the Medford Historical Society on Sunday--the WRC had its headquarters there for several years, so they may have some documents. Shall let you know what I find.
P.O.: Huntsville, Alabama
Service: nurse at Jeffersonville Hospital, Indiana
Applied: 1890
Status: Accepted
Martin's file is one of the slim ones: 7 papers in total. But it's definitely an interesting one. Ida's first husband, Zelotas H. Martin (love these names!) enlisted in 1862 in Co. M, 5th Michigan Cavalry, part of what would become the famous Custer Brigade. Zelotas died on July 5th, 1863, from wounds received at Gettysburg. Shortly after, Ida was assigned to Jeffersonville General Hospital, and remained there until July 6, 1865. Seems like a logical time to stop working: the war's over, hospitals are closing down. Apparently, Ida had another reason altogether. She was suffering from what she termed "paralysis of the nerves" and could no longer work. I don't know what that translates to in modern terms, but whatever it is, it's bad, because within a few years, Ida had one leg amputated below the knee. The second was amputated a few years later. Somewhere in the midst of all this, though, Ida met her second husband, Andrew J. Martin, also a Union soldier, and the two were married on August 3, 1868.
Ida and Andrew moved to Huntsville sometime before 1870, and continued to live there for the next twenty odd years. By 1890, Andrew was getting too old to support himself and an invalid wife, and Ida petitioned for a pension based on her disability. It looks like the fact that her service had so clearly disabled her allowed her to ignore the precedents set for how much to pay for nurses pensions--poor old Berry and Cockrell must have been miffed--because she won a $24 pension, twice the going rate. Martin's case is one of the first times I've seen a nurse so clearly disabled as a result of her service. Usually they list "general disability," "rheumatism," or just old age, sometimes linked to their service. I've had several cases of malarial poisoning, chronic diarrhea, broken bones, deafness, and in one or two cases actual gunshot wounds, but nothing approaching what Martin endured. It's time to dig out the medical reference books and figure out just what kind of "paralysis of the nerves" means and why it caused her to lose her legs.
On a side note, heading in to Boston within the next few days to hit up Schlesinger and Houghton Libraries at Harvard, finally check out Memorial Hall, and maybe swing by the Boston Archives and Massachusetts Archives if I have the time. They have more Barton papers, some Dix papers, and letters from Harriet Patience Dame which, fingers crossed, should be interesting. Also going to the Medford Historical Society on Sunday--the WRC had its headquarters there for several years, so they may have some documents. Shall let you know what I find.
Electa Willard
Pension: 1133884, 1078866
P.O.: Detroit, Michigan
Service: agent for the Michigan agency for wounded and sick soldiers; also St. Mary's Hospital, Detroit
Applied: 1892
Status: Accepted
Sorry for not posting in over a week--I was up to my eyebrows in prep work for a re-enactment, and I spent the last two days trying to recover. The downstairs still looks like a disaster area, but today I am finally back in the swing of things--which means my desk is clean, the desktop is hooked up, my files are (semi) organized, and most important, I have the energy to work.
I went through the "W" pension folder today, plugging information into the Database. Amongst all the women, Electa's file stood out. It wasn't just the unique name (though I admit it was one of the reasons I decided to pull her pension in DC--it's just such a cool name!), it was the date her pension commenced: 1904.
Every pensioneer I pulled applied for a pension before 1892. That was one of the groundrules I went into this with. So the 1904 date had bells going off in my head. The thing with pension files is that there's ususally no rhyme or reason as to how the papers are organized. Sometimes they're ordered chronologically--it's a very rare sometimes. Willard's file was organized chronologically...but backwards. So the more recent papers were on top, and the older were on the bottom. And I started at the top.
A couple of "no, duh" moments later, here's Electa Willard:
When the war broke out, Governor Blair of Michigan commissioned Luther Willard to help supply and care for wounded Michigan soldiers by securing donations from private citizens, and seeing that they were put to good use. Electa, for whatever reason, decided to accompanied her husband. What happened to their three daughters (one them somewhere under the age of 1) is unclear. Electa, however, spent the vast majority of the next four years time distributing supplies at St. Mary's Harper Hospital; by 1863, she was a defacto nurse. Luther and Electa continued to work until the close of the war in '65.
With the war over, Luther and Electa returned home. Electa had another child in 1868--a girl as well--and Luther got a job as a printer. Luther, however, passed in 1877. Judging from the census records Electa wasn't in desperate need of money, but in May of 1892 she applied for a nurses pension--just before the Act passed. That didn't get very far--the War Department couldn't find any record of her service. When the Act passed, later that year she applied again, citing her service at St Mary's Hospital. For some reason, Willard abandoned the claim shortly after, but she applied again in 1898. This time she had a list of names: surgeons, fellow nurses, patients. Again, however, there was the problem that the War Department had no record of her service, and most of the people Willard cited were dead. The claim went nowhere. So, Willard resorted to other means to secure her pension: my favorite, the Special Act.
In 1904, Congress awarded Electa Willard a pension of $12 a month, arguing that her case came "within the spirit, if not the letter, of the army-nurse act," and citing her poor health and needy financial circumstances. I think, however, that Willard was keeping something from the esteemed body, because in 1911, when she died, the reimbursement claim filed by N.F. Hamilton stated that her home was worth $4000, and that Willard had $3000 in notes. Something doesn't add up here, and for once it's not because of the Bureau...
P.O.: Detroit, Michigan
Service: agent for the Michigan agency for wounded and sick soldiers; also St. Mary's Hospital, Detroit
Applied: 1892
Status: Accepted
Sorry for not posting in over a week--I was up to my eyebrows in prep work for a re-enactment, and I spent the last two days trying to recover. The downstairs still looks like a disaster area, but today I am finally back in the swing of things--which means my desk is clean, the desktop is hooked up, my files are (semi) organized, and most important, I have the energy to work.
I went through the "W" pension folder today, plugging information into the Database. Amongst all the women, Electa's file stood out. It wasn't just the unique name (though I admit it was one of the reasons I decided to pull her pension in DC--it's just such a cool name!), it was the date her pension commenced: 1904.
Every pensioneer I pulled applied for a pension before 1892. That was one of the groundrules I went into this with. So the 1904 date had bells going off in my head. The thing with pension files is that there's ususally no rhyme or reason as to how the papers are organized. Sometimes they're ordered chronologically--it's a very rare sometimes. Willard's file was organized chronologically...but backwards. So the more recent papers were on top, and the older were on the bottom. And I started at the top.
A couple of "no, duh" moments later, here's Electa Willard:
When the war broke out, Governor Blair of Michigan commissioned Luther Willard to help supply and care for wounded Michigan soldiers by securing donations from private citizens, and seeing that they were put to good use. Electa, for whatever reason, decided to accompanied her husband. What happened to their three daughters (one them somewhere under the age of 1) is unclear. Electa, however, spent the vast majority of the next four years time distributing supplies at St. Mary's Harper Hospital; by 1863, she was a defacto nurse. Luther and Electa continued to work until the close of the war in '65.
With the war over, Luther and Electa returned home. Electa had another child in 1868--a girl as well--and Luther got a job as a printer. Luther, however, passed in 1877. Judging from the census records Electa wasn't in desperate need of money, but in May of 1892 she applied for a nurses pension--just before the Act passed. That didn't get very far--the War Department couldn't find any record of her service. When the Act passed, later that year she applied again, citing her service at St Mary's Hospital. For some reason, Willard abandoned the claim shortly after, but she applied again in 1898. This time she had a list of names: surgeons, fellow nurses, patients. Again, however, there was the problem that the War Department had no record of her service, and most of the people Willard cited were dead. The claim went nowhere. So, Willard resorted to other means to secure her pension: my favorite, the Special Act.
In 1904, Congress awarded Electa Willard a pension of $12 a month, arguing that her case came "within the spirit, if not the letter, of the army-nurse act," and citing her poor health and needy financial circumstances. I think, however, that Willard was keeping something from the esteemed body, because in 1911, when she died, the reimbursement claim filed by N.F. Hamilton stated that her home was worth $4000, and that Willard had $3000 in notes. Something doesn't add up here, and for once it's not because of the Bureau...
Monday, July 9, 2012
The Database
I won't be posting a biography tonight--my pictures are all on the desktop which is currently sitting downstairs in the front room waiting for me to clear enough space on my desk to house it...since my desk is covered in books, that could take a while. Instead, I'm going to briefly explain part of what I'll be doing once the computer is hooked up.
'The Database' is an Excel file where I plug in certain information gleaned from the pension records. There are two reasons to have this file. One is so I can quickly find the file I'm looking for--I know I'm not going to keep all 350 women straight. If I remember if she was a Special Act or not, where she served, or other details, I can narrow down the possibilities and pull the relevant files. The other reasons is to look for patterns. It'll be easier to explain what kinds of patterns if I list off the things I'm pulling:
This bit goes out to the peanut gallery I know is out there: can you think of any other information I can plug into the database? Any questions I can ask? As I was reminded several times in D.C., multiple heads are better than one. Especially when one is pretty close to not seeing the forest for the trees. Sing out if you think of anything!
'The Database' is an Excel file where I plug in certain information gleaned from the pension records. There are two reasons to have this file. One is so I can quickly find the file I'm looking for--I know I'm not going to keep all 350 women straight. If I remember if she was a Special Act or not, where she served, or other details, I can narrow down the possibilities and pull the relevant files. The other reasons is to look for patterns. It'll be easier to explain what kinds of patterns if I list off the things I'm pulling:
- Name
- Year Applied
- Status (Accepted, Rejected, Abandoned)
- Year Dropped (if accepted)
- Residence
- Branch (was she in the USSC, the USCC, a contract nurse, a Sister of Charity, a regimental nurse, one of Dix's nursing corps, or was she an independent operator?)
- Color (white or black)
- Marital status at enlistment
- Children at enlistment
- Occupation at enlistment
- Family in the army
- Hospitals served
- Marital status and occupation at application
- If she has an occupation, is it a government job?
- Nature of disability sustained (was it in service, or is it general disability/old age?)
- Member of the Woman's Relief Corps
- Member of the American Nurses Assocation
- Attorney
- Special Act or 1892 Act application
- If a Special Act, who introduced the bill to Congress
- If an 1892 Act app., did they satisfy the 6 months service requirement? The competant authority requirement? Was it accepted?
- Subsequent action (any special investigations, increases, or if she was rejected the first time around, did she try again?)
- Evidence of networking with fellow nurses (did she have other nurses write affidavits, did the WRC or ANA support it?)
This bit goes out to the peanut gallery I know is out there: can you think of any other information I can plug into the database? Any questions I can ask? As I was reminded several times in D.C., multiple heads are better than one. Especially when one is pretty close to not seeing the forest for the trees. Sing out if you think of anything!
Friday, July 6, 2012
End Act 1
Today was my last day at the Archives. Which meant nose to the grind stone, trying not to listen to the nagging voice in the back of my head screaming, "You've forgotten something!" I can't say I completely succeeded in ignoring it, but I didn't run around like a madwoman. Always a good thing.
It's honestly a little surreal. My mind keeps going, Wait, there's no work? You mean I can sleep in every morning? What about my walk in the morning? I don't get to say hi to Barack and Booth? What am I supposed to do with myself?
The short term answer is come up with a final tally.
Pension files pulled: 322
Legislative pension files pulled: 103
Some of the legislative files and pension files deal with the same person, so the total isn't the combination of the two. Once you account for those, here's the grand total:
354 pensions
Now we add the goodies. I pulled Mary Ann Bickerdyke's and Clara Barton's papers from the Library of Congress. Bickerdyke was involved in securing pensions for a number of nurses, and Barton was a member of the WRC Pension Committee, so both women had something to add to the bigger picture. We also have the huge petition the WRC circulated, a few tidbits from the 1892 Act file, and the 1888 Act file I pulled today. I have transcripts for the debate surrounding both bills and the names of several Congressmen involved in the bill (both for and against) who I can look into. I have the names of over a dozen women involved in the WRC National Pension Committee and the Army Nurses Association. And let's not forget the names of 354 women I can plug into search engines or send to historical societies to try and find personal letters.
I don't have a battleplan for Act 2 yet. I know it will consist of going through every single pension file, plugging the information into some sort of spreadsheet to look for patterns, and following up on all the leads I've been finding. And, of course, keeping up the blog. But for now, I'm heading home and putting my feet up for a few days. Sleep...
It's honestly a little surreal. My mind keeps going, Wait, there's no work? You mean I can sleep in every morning? What about my walk in the morning? I don't get to say hi to Barack and Booth? What am I supposed to do with myself?
The short term answer is come up with a final tally.
Pension files pulled: 322
Legislative pension files pulled: 103
Some of the legislative files and pension files deal with the same person, so the total isn't the combination of the two. Once you account for those, here's the grand total:
354 pensions
Now we add the goodies. I pulled Mary Ann Bickerdyke's and Clara Barton's papers from the Library of Congress. Bickerdyke was involved in securing pensions for a number of nurses, and Barton was a member of the WRC Pension Committee, so both women had something to add to the bigger picture. We also have the huge petition the WRC circulated, a few tidbits from the 1892 Act file, and the 1888 Act file I pulled today. I have transcripts for the debate surrounding both bills and the names of several Congressmen involved in the bill (both for and against) who I can look into. I have the names of over a dozen women involved in the WRC National Pension Committee and the Army Nurses Association. And let's not forget the names of 354 women I can plug into search engines or send to historical societies to try and find personal letters.
I don't have a battleplan for Act 2 yet. I know it will consist of going through every single pension file, plugging the information into some sort of spreadsheet to look for patterns, and following up on all the leads I've been finding. And, of course, keeping up the blog. But for now, I'm heading home and putting my feet up for a few days. Sleep...
Thursday, July 5, 2012
Catherine Quinn
Pension File: 1141084, 854963
P.O.: Cincinnati, Ohio
Service: nurse at Camp Dennison Hospital
Applied: 1892
Status: Accepted
Another day, another fun story. Catherine Quinn served as a contract nurse at Camp Dennison Hospital from 1862 to 1865. She applied for, and was granted, a pension based on that service. No hitches, no jumping through hoops to prove anything. The good stuff comes later.
In August, 1898, the Pension Bureau received an anonymous letter from "an old soldier." He was writing, he said, because the government was being swindled: Catherine Quinn never served as a nurse--in fact, she'd been a washerwoman, and she'd had $2000 in her account when she'd applied for her pension. Oh, and she was a drunken, abusive person.
Within a month, the Bureau launched a special investigation. Turns out the "old soldier" wasn't really an old soldier. His name was William McLusky, and he'd fought with Quinn because she'd refused to give him money. As pay back, he'd tried to sabotage her pension claim. As the investigator dug deeper and called in other people to give affidavits, he observed that "all parties who appear in the matter are of very ordinary class hardly entitled in my opinion to be rated even "fair"...they have until recently all been cronies and the seeming cause of their troubles has been the unwillingness of Mrs. Quinn to supply liquid refreshments to the extent they demanded."
This should have been written off as a petty prank, but the purpose of a special investigation is to determine if a nurse did actually serve--essentially, a nurse has to apply again. The people who testified on Quinn's behalf though were by now dead. So, the investigator was left with a choice: based on the current evidence, did he rule in favor of Quinn, or listen to the not-so-fair McLusky?
For once, the Bureau did the decent thing, and gave Quinn the benefit of the doubt. I guess the Bureau does have a bit of a heart after all.
P.O.: Cincinnati, Ohio
Service: nurse at Camp Dennison Hospital
Applied: 1892
Status: Accepted
Another day, another fun story. Catherine Quinn served as a contract nurse at Camp Dennison Hospital from 1862 to 1865. She applied for, and was granted, a pension based on that service. No hitches, no jumping through hoops to prove anything. The good stuff comes later.
In August, 1898, the Pension Bureau received an anonymous letter from "an old soldier." He was writing, he said, because the government was being swindled: Catherine Quinn never served as a nurse--in fact, she'd been a washerwoman, and she'd had $2000 in her account when she'd applied for her pension. Oh, and she was a drunken, abusive person.
Within a month, the Bureau launched a special investigation. Turns out the "old soldier" wasn't really an old soldier. His name was William McLusky, and he'd fought with Quinn because she'd refused to give him money. As pay back, he'd tried to sabotage her pension claim. As the investigator dug deeper and called in other people to give affidavits, he observed that "all parties who appear in the matter are of very ordinary class hardly entitled in my opinion to be rated even "fair"...they have until recently all been cronies and the seeming cause of their troubles has been the unwillingness of Mrs. Quinn to supply liquid refreshments to the extent they demanded."
This should have been written off as a petty prank, but the purpose of a special investigation is to determine if a nurse did actually serve--essentially, a nurse has to apply again. The people who testified on Quinn's behalf though were by now dead. So, the investigator was left with a choice: based on the current evidence, did he rule in favor of Quinn, or listen to the not-so-fair McLusky?
For once, the Bureau did the decent thing, and gave Quinn the benefit of the doubt. I guess the Bureau does have a bit of a heart after all.
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
Clara B. Hoyt
Pension File: 1133681
P.O.: Rush Center, Kansas
Service: Nurse at Columbian College Hospital and Point of Rocks Hospital
Applied: 1891
Status: Rejected
This is one the annoying files where you know there's more somewhere, but for whatever reason it's impossible to find. Hoyt has a legislative file--and an interesting one at that--but her pension file is MIA. I've requested it twice, and each time I've gotten a rejection slip. I am not happy.
A brief of sketch of Hoyt based on what her legislative file contains: Hoyt served as a nurse under the direction of Dorothea Dix under her maiden name, Clara B. Clark, from the fall of 1864 to around the 20th of May, 1865. After the war, Clara married and moved from her home in New York to Kansas. In 1889 she contacted Congressman Ingalls about obtaining a pension through a Special Act. Ingalls did what he could, and the bill was brought before the Senate twice, one in May, 1890, and again in December, 1891, but each time it was referred back to Committee. Search me as to why. Once the 1892 Act passed, Hoyt applied for a pension through the Bureau rather than a Special Act--and as a result, the file ends, which is why I'd so like to get my hands on that file! I know her claim was rejected, since her pension file number doesn't have a certificate number (the first number, and generally the only one, is the application number, and the second is the certificate number, only given when a person is granted a pension).
Here come the surprises:
First, another reason why I'd love to get that pension file: Hoyt's attorney was named Ellen S. Tolman of Lawrence, Massachusetts Unless I'm reading that name incorrectly, or Ellen was originally a guy's name ("Oh, Ashley, Ashley!!"), we have a female lawyer on our hands! There's also the question of why Hoyt hired an attorney living in Massachusetts when she herself lived in Kansas.
Second, the WRC made a guest appearance in the file. This time it wasn't Annie Wittenmyer, it was Sarah E. Fuller, a former president and Secretary of the National Pension Committee. In 1890, Fuller wrote Ingalls a letter in support of Hoyt's claim, and attached an "Army Nurses Blank" provided by the WRC. My guess is that the WRC used these forms in their own pension process--the WRC provided pensions to its members, but emphasized these were supposed to be temporary relief. The blank asks who commissioned the nurse, dates of enrollment and discharge, age at enrollment, if the applicant has any papers to back her claim, her pecuniary circumstances, marital status, state of health, and how employed. That's how I know that Hoyt suffered from rheumatism and catarrh, and her pecuniary circumstances were "at present not flattering." It also presents another research possibility--where are the WRC-issued pensions, and can I use the information in those files to supplement what I've gathered from the Archives? Another rabbit hole! Madness!
P.O.: Rush Center, Kansas
Service: Nurse at Columbian College Hospital and Point of Rocks Hospital
Applied: 1891
Status: Rejected
This is one the annoying files where you know there's more somewhere, but for whatever reason it's impossible to find. Hoyt has a legislative file--and an interesting one at that--but her pension file is MIA. I've requested it twice, and each time I've gotten a rejection slip. I am not happy.
A brief of sketch of Hoyt based on what her legislative file contains: Hoyt served as a nurse under the direction of Dorothea Dix under her maiden name, Clara B. Clark, from the fall of 1864 to around the 20th of May, 1865. After the war, Clara married and moved from her home in New York to Kansas. In 1889 she contacted Congressman Ingalls about obtaining a pension through a Special Act. Ingalls did what he could, and the bill was brought before the Senate twice, one in May, 1890, and again in December, 1891, but each time it was referred back to Committee. Search me as to why. Once the 1892 Act passed, Hoyt applied for a pension through the Bureau rather than a Special Act--and as a result, the file ends, which is why I'd so like to get my hands on that file! I know her claim was rejected, since her pension file number doesn't have a certificate number (the first number, and generally the only one, is the application number, and the second is the certificate number, only given when a person is granted a pension).
Here come the surprises:
First, another reason why I'd love to get that pension file: Hoyt's attorney was named Ellen S. Tolman of Lawrence, Massachusetts Unless I'm reading that name incorrectly, or Ellen was originally a guy's name ("Oh, Ashley, Ashley!!"), we have a female lawyer on our hands! There's also the question of why Hoyt hired an attorney living in Massachusetts when she herself lived in Kansas.
Second, the WRC made a guest appearance in the file. This time it wasn't Annie Wittenmyer, it was Sarah E. Fuller, a former president and Secretary of the National Pension Committee. In 1890, Fuller wrote Ingalls a letter in support of Hoyt's claim, and attached an "Army Nurses Blank" provided by the WRC. My guess is that the WRC used these forms in their own pension process--the WRC provided pensions to its members, but emphasized these were supposed to be temporary relief. The blank asks who commissioned the nurse, dates of enrollment and discharge, age at enrollment, if the applicant has any papers to back her claim, her pecuniary circumstances, marital status, state of health, and how employed. That's how I know that Hoyt suffered from rheumatism and catarrh, and her pecuniary circumstances were "at present not flattering." It also presents another research possibility--where are the WRC-issued pensions, and can I use the information in those files to supplement what I've gathered from the Archives? Another rabbit hole! Madness!
Monday, July 2, 2012
Clara Watson
Pension File: 1141792
P.O.: Ebenezer, Pennsylvania
Service: nurse at General Hospital 5, 6, and 7 at Murfreesboro, Tennessee from December 31st, 1863 to end of the war
Filed: 1892
Status: Rejected
Most nurses were well into their seventies when they applied for a pension--by extension, they were in their thirties or forties when they served in the war. Clara Watson, however, was only 22 when she began to work as a nurse. She was my age. And she'd already given birth to two daughters, Susan and Melissa, and had just run away from her owner, Doctor Allison.
Clara was another escaped slave, just like Mehala Edwards.
According to her affidavits, Clara and her two daughters ran away from Dr. Allison's farm on the Manchester Turnpike just after the Battle of Stone River in 1862. Shortly after she began working at General Hospital 5 in Murfreesboro. The only compensation she received, she claimed, were her rations. After a year she was transferred to General Hospital 6, where she was paid $2.50 a week--roughly the same as a regular enlisted nurse. There's some confusion as to dates, but Watson claimed she was transferred to Hospital 7 in June, 1865, and served there until the close of the war.
Once she was discharged, a man named Frank Speedy took her and her daughters to Indiana County, Pennsylvania, where she settled down. I checked the census records: in 1870, a woman matching Watson's description was listed in Conemaugh, Indiana County, living with her husband John Watson, a man thirty years her senior, as well as four children: Susan, Frank, Martha, and Banks. Watson also appeared in the 1880, 1900, and 1910 census. She apparently gave birth to 8 children, and outlived at least six of them.
Watson applied for a pension in 1892 based on her service in Murfreesboro. She supplied the names of at least half a dozen doctors and hospital stewards who could testify to her work, and ensisted that someone had placed her name on the rolls on several occasions. Guess what the Bureau said? "Sorry, no record exists, and most of the people you named are not in our records or are dead. Got anything else?" When Watson couldn't produce any additional proof, they rejected her claim--took them three years to tell her. But Watson tried again. She sent a letter in 1897 asking what more she could do to prosecute her claim other than getting rid of her attorney, Frank Donahue, who apparently had done a less than stellar job. "I am entitled to [my pension]," she wrote, "and have furnish [sic] evidence so it is now over four years since I made application." The same thing happened: no records, no affidavits, rejection. Watson tried a last time in 1910, this time enlisting her local Congressman. Third time's the charm, right? Wrong. This is the Pension Bureau we're talking about. Watson never got her pension.
I know that at least two black women received a pension: Ann Stokes and Maria Bear Tolivar. And I have at least three black women who were rejected. Time to do some comparisons and see what let those two women succeed where others failed.
P.O.: Ebenezer, Pennsylvania
Service: nurse at General Hospital 5, 6, and 7 at Murfreesboro, Tennessee from December 31st, 1863 to end of the war
Filed: 1892
Status: Rejected
Most nurses were well into their seventies when they applied for a pension--by extension, they were in their thirties or forties when they served in the war. Clara Watson, however, was only 22 when she began to work as a nurse. She was my age. And she'd already given birth to two daughters, Susan and Melissa, and had just run away from her owner, Doctor Allison.
Clara was another escaped slave, just like Mehala Edwards.
According to her affidavits, Clara and her two daughters ran away from Dr. Allison's farm on the Manchester Turnpike just after the Battle of Stone River in 1862. Shortly after she began working at General Hospital 5 in Murfreesboro. The only compensation she received, she claimed, were her rations. After a year she was transferred to General Hospital 6, where she was paid $2.50 a week--roughly the same as a regular enlisted nurse. There's some confusion as to dates, but Watson claimed she was transferred to Hospital 7 in June, 1865, and served there until the close of the war.
Once she was discharged, a man named Frank Speedy took her and her daughters to Indiana County, Pennsylvania, where she settled down. I checked the census records: in 1870, a woman matching Watson's description was listed in Conemaugh, Indiana County, living with her husband John Watson, a man thirty years her senior, as well as four children: Susan, Frank, Martha, and Banks. Watson also appeared in the 1880, 1900, and 1910 census. She apparently gave birth to 8 children, and outlived at least six of them.
Watson applied for a pension in 1892 based on her service in Murfreesboro. She supplied the names of at least half a dozen doctors and hospital stewards who could testify to her work, and ensisted that someone had placed her name on the rolls on several occasions. Guess what the Bureau said? "Sorry, no record exists, and most of the people you named are not in our records or are dead. Got anything else?" When Watson couldn't produce any additional proof, they rejected her claim--took them three years to tell her. But Watson tried again. She sent a letter in 1897 asking what more she could do to prosecute her claim other than getting rid of her attorney, Frank Donahue, who apparently had done a less than stellar job. "I am entitled to [my pension]," she wrote, "and have furnish [sic] evidence so it is now over four years since I made application." The same thing happened: no records, no affidavits, rejection. Watson tried a last time in 1910, this time enlisting her local Congressman. Third time's the charm, right? Wrong. This is the Pension Bureau we're talking about. Watson never got her pension.
I know that at least two black women received a pension: Ann Stokes and Maria Bear Tolivar. And I have at least three black women who were rejected. Time to do some comparisons and see what let those two women succeed where others failed.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)