Rambling Anecdotes

[4V50 Gary]

From John Coski's book, Capitol Navy: The James River Squadron, is a tale of a Confederate midshipman who was somewhat less than gentlemanly.

"William F. Clayton, a young midshipman from Georgie who was in the Academy from 1861 to 1864, recalled his own participation in one of these "incidents." IN early January 1864, Clayton returned with his class to the school ship and enjoyed a reunion with an old friend, boatswain Jim Smith. To celebrate their reunion, Clayton and Smith planned a night on the town. After a few drinks, the men went to the theater, where they found themselves seated behind a gentleman wearing a fashionably tall beaver hat. The hat, Clayton recalled, "cut off Jim's view of the stage, and he politely asked the individual to please "douse the glim." To this request, Clayton wrote, the man, "replied that he would not take in his royals--that is remove his hat."

"Now Jim was a tolerably large-sized man," Clayton continued, "and had on him the hand about the size of an ordinary spade, and letting fall his hand on the top of this beaver, it went down, with the rim resting on the owner's shoulders. Immediately, a cry was raised, 'Put 'em out." The ludicrious attempt of the fellow to get his head out of that beaver would have made a saint laugh."

Transformed from spectators to fugitives, the two sailors made their escape from the theater. Several policemen gave chase, but, having been stationed there before, the sailors knew the streets and alleys of Richmond and found their way safely back to the American Hotel. "Of course," Clayton mused, "The Richmond Examiner gave an account headed: 'Some More Ruffianism from the Navy,' but we preferred to remain quiet and let Mr. Pollard soothe his wounded arm with any use he might care to make of printer's ink."

Coski's book is available from Savas (& Beatie) Publishing.

 

[4V50 Gary]

I am assagaid! I am assagaid!

If you remember the movie Zulu! or Zulu Dawn, you remember the short thrusting spear of the Zulu. Here's one gallant Englishman's panicked response at a mistaken night attack. It's not the stuff of stoic Victorian era heroics that we are normally accustomed to reading.

The Zulu's chief's peaceful protestations were merely a ruse to gain time in gathering upwards of 20,000 of his trained warriors at Ulundi for another such massacre as Isandhwwana. It might well have been another disaster had the Zulus attacked the night before the battle. As the British and their natives allies lay tense and tired listening to the chanting of weird war-songs, native guards mistook the shadow of a cloud in the moonlight for the advance of a Zulu impi. As they fired, their comrades, believing it was an attack, jumped up and ran back towards the British. The Europeans in turn, in their excited imagination, thought the 'naked devils' rushing among them were the enemy. They left their beds and sprinted for protection of the laager. In a frantic effort to get inside, some clambered over the wagons, while others crawled underneath. Behind the wagons, incompletely trained boys, many of whom had never fired a bullet before embarkation, huddled together and sobbed pitifully like children. Seasoned veterans, heeding their officers, stood their ground and vigorously thrust their bayonets into the whirlwind of howling humanity. Demon panic produced scenes that were ludicrously disgraceful. One high-ranking officer left his bed crying, 'Lord help us,' and stumbled into a bush. Pricked by a thorn, he cried, 'I am assagiad! I am assagiad!' It took some effort to hold him, and assure him that there was no danger and that he was uninjured."

This was taken from page 251 of Joseph Lehmann's book, The Model Major General: Biography of Field-Marshal Lord Wolseley. I'm still doing research in the black powder era and am enjoying this old (1964) but not ancient book.

 

[4V50 Gary]

More from the same book.

Rebel maruaders left a trail of destruction all about them and Woseley expected his advance to be contested, perhaps in the form of an ambush. If they entertained any such notion, the menacing-looking 6-pounder must have discouraged them. Less easily intimidated by this show of force was an enormous Bengal tiger. With no advance warning, the beast threw the entire column into confusion. The bullocks, ordinarily so phlegmatic, went wild with fear. The native drivers ran, and the wagons became tangled. Only the 6-pounder stood calm and dignified.

Wolseley ran up from the rear, expecting to find a sepoy barrier. Instead, he saw the silhouette of a tiger etched in silvery moonlight against the dark forest background. The beast made a springing attack on the transport animals, failed, and retired a safe distance to debate attacking such a large group a second time. The master gunner requested permission to try a canister shot. The men, intrigued by the possible results of such a novel experiment, heartily supported the petition. Wolseley was tempted, but he reasoned that he could afford neither time nor ammunition. He let the tiger remain master of the field. Anyway, it did not seem quite sporting, shooting tigers with a cannon.

Killjoy. I would have approved an unsporting shot like that. Imagine what the regimental emblem for the artillery unit would look like today if they had? It probably would have a tiger laying by the wheel of the cannon.

 

[4V50 Gary]

Da-yam, just da-yam!

One thing researching the black-powder sharpshooter taught me was to overcome my prejudice about reading books written by non-combatants who wrote contemporaneous to the time of the conflict. For my research on Gettysburg, I read material written by a 15 year old girl (Tille Alleman Pierce) and by some boys who lived in Gettysburg. A veteran loaned me Merrill Mattes book, "Indians, Infants and Infantry: Andrew and Elizabeth Burt on the Frontier." Ranger Mattes annotated and edited Elizabeth Burt's diary. Elizabeth was married to Andrew Burt who was an infantry captain in the 18th U.S. Infantry in the Civil War. Post-war Burt and his command served on the frontier and fortunately for us, he took Elizabeth with him. She was witness to many incidents and her observations are well worth reading. I share one with you now. It concerns a Shoshone Indian Chief, Washakie who met Elizabeth Burt at Fort Bridger. They used his interpreter until Elizabeth mastered some Shoshone words along with Indian sign language.

Washakie was about to start on a hunting trip, to be absent a certain number of days. Before parting from his wife, he told her he wanted the camp to be moved in his absence, to a place designated by him, and he would meet her on a certain day. At the appointed time he arrived at the place but no camp was to be seen. The mighty chief was very angry. Instead of a good supper and a smiling wife to greet him in a new, clean camp, he must continue to ride to the place he had left and upbraid his squaw for her unheard of disobedience. What excuses, he demanded, had she for the neglect of her orders? Her reply was her mother would not allow her to move camp. Such misconduct was unheard of in his family; and Washakie at once and ever after ended such rebellion by raising his gun and taking the life of his mother-in-law. Now it was easy to understand how Washakie ruled both family and tribe, literally with a rod of iron.

This incident may be found on pages 84-85 of the book.

 

[4V50 Gary]

We'll eat your harse

It is well established that an Apache of the 19th Century can outlast a horse. While the horse will have a quicker start and run faster, given a longer period, the slower, jogging Apache will past up the exhausted horse. Well, here's something that Maj. Andrew Burt recalled:

It is an established fact that once settled down to marching the infantryman can outlast the horse. Some cavalrymen will take issue with the assertion. As an instance. In Cook's campaign in 1876, against Sitting Bull, I recall a spirited dialogue between two soldiers. We of the Infantry, Chamber's command, were plodding along, literally puddling in the mud, for our trail lay over an alkalai country which means no vegetation whatever and a light soil, and the going was awful. Every step a man would pick up several pounds of mud. The infantry were in the lead, with a small cavalry detail in advance. It was well into the day when the main body of cavalry caught up with us and there was the usual good-natured exchange of chaff between the soldiers. One of the cavalrymen swung around in his saddle and addressed one of my men:

'Casey, old man, how are your corns? It is a fine walking? Don't you want to ride a horse?'

Casey, in the richest brogue you ever heard, replied: 'To hell wid your harse. Gwan now, we'll walk your harse off his legs and thin we'll eat him.'

This was a veritable phophecy...."

Taken from page 244.

 

[4V50 Gary]

Nymph of the pave

On my return from the Fortress [Monroe] to Norfolk, I was addressed while on the boat by a very interesting-looking young lady, in that familiar style, that at once showed me that she was a "Nymph of the pave." I amused myself with the acquaintance long enough to draw from her a portion of her history. There is, & has always been, a sort of interest in my mind, one in which I derive satisfaction - I cannot say pleasure, in sifting the history of those who have fallen. There are so many shades to the picture - some I have known who were dragged down by the wiles of the Seducer, others who have plunged into their degradation from the mere love of pleasure, & the gratification of passion. Failing to secure from me a promise to call on her, when the boat touched the wharf, she improved the first offer, and was quickly hurried into a hack by a man wearing shoulder straps and doubtless found in his arms, for that night, the satisfaction she craved.

In the hundreds of Civil War books I've read, this was the first time I've seen that term, nymph of the pave, used. This is from 85th Infantry Surgeon William B. Smith's diary, published as Swamp Doctor, pages 67-68. The good doctor doesn't tell us what caused this flower to fall.

 

[4V50 Gary]

The captain [Allen] has some good qualities - he is open, warm & even generous-hearted to his friends and a brave man. But he frequently drinks too freely. Several times, I have known him to be so much intoxicated that he would have been utterly incompetent to command men in the hour of danger or of battle. And he is licentious-he seems not to restrain the indulgence of his passions for women-it is but yesterday that he came to me to be treated for venereal warts-sometimes called syphilitic vegetations. His disease is unmistakably the result of his connexions with abandoned women.

That Gawd that was a diary entry and not a personnel appraisal report.

 

[4V50 Gary]

Take care of your captain and how to tame dogs

The following story involves a German rifleman of the British Army's King's German Legion who, like all worthy Napoleonic Era men of war, was adept at foraging. After all, when your army fails to provide for your fare, one must provide for himself as does this soldier. Our hero stands accused of theft and allows his accuser to air her grievances to his commanding officer.

With one of my comrades who had learnt pharmacy I looked for provisions in a loft and found in a corner a packet with flies on, which I angrily threw away and observed that the people here must get very bored. But my comrade took the packet and kept it, then went with me into the local chemist, sold the packet with the flies and paid me four Spanish thaler; he kept an equal sum himself. We continued our investigation and in a wooden shed I found three casks of bacon; I set a piece in front of me and gave the rest to my comrade as a reward. Then we got the order to march again, so we packed up our things together with the bacon, drank a flask of wine with the fly money, heard the signal for departure, were assembled at the appointed place and marched towards Badajoz.

....we marched back over the hill, where the enemy set large dogs on us, which bit the legs of some of our people. Nevertheless we crowded into the wood under steady fire; there I found my brother the butcher, whom I had been very anxious for during the fighting. But he had known how to look after himself very well and had grasped one of the attacking dogs with an arm round its head and clasped it tightly with the other, alternatively giving it a thorough thrashing and coaxing it so that the dog, which he now held on a lead, soon became docile and got used to him.

We embraced here in heart-felt happiness over our deliverance since the French had already withdrawn and some of our people had died. 'Now we want to live once more in ordinary way, dear brother, I have a piece of bacon,' I said to him.

'And I have something to drink,' he replied.

Our captain and another officer, who also felt hungry, shared our meal so that we had nothing left. After the companies had been inspected it was found that we had lost some fifty men; then at around five o'clock in the evening we moved out of the wood and marched back to Olivenza, where we reached our former quarters very late.

Our host received us with a grumble and reproached us that his bacon had been stolen, as far as I could understand Portuguese, about which I had a guilty conscience. When I got up from my straw bed the next morning I went to my captain to clean his clothes; I complained to him that the peasant was so angry and spoke all the time about a stolen pig. He might well mean the bacon that I had taken out of the cask and on which we had eaten heartily yesterday after the skirmish. My captain advised me to appease the peasant and if he could not be pacified to bring him to him. With this comfort I went home and asked my peasant why he was so angry; he showed me the empty cask and again began to chide. I said to him that yesterday he had had Spanish and Portuguese quartered with him. If he meant that we were thieves he should accuse us in front of our officer. The man's wife took up my offer and went with me to our captain, who listened quietly for some time, but when the women began scolding him that the German riflemen were robbers my captain took hold of his sabre hanging on the wall, at which the woman rushed out of the room. My hosts were quiet now...

The above is taken from James Bogle and Andrew Uffindell's book, A Waterloo Hero: The Reminiscences of Friedrich Lindau. Students of the Napoleonic Wars are indebted to Bogle and Uffindell for releasing this book. Rifleman Lindau's memoirs was originally published in German in 1846 and this edition is the first time it has been translated and released in English. It is an extremely valuable addition for anyone studying the Peninsular War and since there are only two other works by private soldiers in the King's German Legion, to anyone interested in that highly regarded but short lived unit (1803-1817).

Born to a weaver, Lindau was apprenticed to a shoemaker and finding his master a hard taskmaster, fled to England where he enlisted in the 2nd Battalion of the King's German Legion. His unit becomes part of Wellington's army that returns to Portugal in 1811. Most of the book is an account of Lindau's foraging across the Peninsula. He does see his share of fighting including brawls involving the Portuguese natives who are unhappy about the "heretics" in their country. Fighting with distinction at Victoria and at Waterloo, Lindau is one of the few riflemen to be awarded the Geulphic Medal (which carried a pension). His account at the famous Belgian farmhouse at La Haye Sainte is vivid and is supplemented by two appendices written by KGL officers who also fought there.

 

[4V50 Gary]

Stealing from Stonewall Jackson

We all know Sam Watkins of the First Tennessee. He penned his famous memoirs, Company Aytch, which gives a private's view of the Civil War. Lesser known is Marcus B. Toney of First Tennessee's Company B. Toney penned, "The Privations of a Private." Here's an excerpt.

A detail of Company C was made to guard the medical stores of General Jackson, which were in wagons. The boys found in one of the wagons a cask of brandy. Getting hold of an auger, they notified the boys in camp to have some kettles ready. Going under the wagon, they bored through the body into the cask, and thus they filled their vessels. General Jackson relieved them from duty, but did not punish them. I presume he thought they were excusable under the weather conditions.

 

[4V50 Gary]

Not a blackpowder era story

OK, blackpowder guns really stopped being used during World War I. The German Askaris in German East Afrika (Tanganika or modern day Tanzania) were armed with the blackpowder cartridge Model 71 Mauser bolt action rifle. After beating the British Indian Army, they were reequipped with the more modern smokeless SMLE. However, this story dates to World War I.

The American submarine H-3 grounded in Humboldt County, California (near Eureka on the northern coast of that sinful state). The Navy advertised for a salvager to help them get their beached sub back into the water. An old logger saw the ad and offered his services. When the Navy inquired as to his background, it learned that the old logger had never been to sea and never even saw a submarine in his life. Despite his assertion that to him it was just a bigger log, and tell that to a modern submarine skipper, the Navy's experts rejected him outright and decided to do it themselves.

The experts called in the cruiser Milwaukee. Fitted with a million dollars worth of towing lines and other salvage gear, the Milwaukee stood off in the ocean and attached the lines to the beached submarine. The result? Well, thanks to the tide, the Milwaukee beached herself as the stubborn sub was too well anchored in sand to be moved. Now there was a predicament! The navy had two ships that were now stranded.

The logger's techniques were now used to rescue H-3. However, his equipment couldn't handle the Milwaukee and no one could figure out how to rescue her. The end result is that the $7 million dollar cruiser remained beached as a total loss.

 

[4V50 Gary]

Distinction between the Union army and the Confederate Army

There is a moral superiority that the Confederate Army enjoyed over the United States Army. They didn't have coffee-boilers who loafed about while their buddies were fighting. One Corn-fed explained:

Now as to coffee-boilers. They were so called in the United States Army because they remained in the rear and boiled coffee while the other soldiers were at the front. In the Confederate Army we called such men stragglers. We could not call them coffee-boilers, because after 1863 we did not have any coffee.

Mind you, this superiority did not translate into a combat advantage that gave the Confederate Army an edge over their Union counterpart. If nothing else, the Union army may have been healthier because boiled water (for coffee) was safer to drink than water that was scooped up from a pond, gutter, roadside.

 

[4V50 Gary]

Those thieves are not my men

Union soldiers marching through Willow Springs in Mississippi had looted one plantation and left virtually nothing. The indignant farmer rode up to Union General A. J. Smith to complain that his men had robbed him of everything he owned. The thieves, he said, belonged to the command of Brigadier General A. J. Smith's division of McClerland's XIII Corps. Smith listened to the man and then asked, "Whose mule is that you rode up on?" When told by the farmer that it was his own, Smith replied, "Well, those men didn't belong to my division at all, because if they were my men they wouldn't even have left you that mule."

The defense rests.

 

[4V50 Gary]

Grave robbers

It's not really grave robbing, but a friendly rivalry between some Texas regiment and the 3rd Arkansas with whom they were brigaded with.

While encamped near Guinea's Station, on the Richmond and Fredericksburg Railroad, during the winter of 1862, quite an amusing incident occurred between two of Gernal Hood's regiments, one from Arkansas and the other from Texas, which were encamped a short distance from us, near Massaponax Church. It appears that the Texas regiment was detailed to go on picket duty, just below Fredericksburg, to watch the enemy and prevent him from throwing a pontoon across the river. While engaged on this duty, the Arkansas regiment made a "raid" on the deserted camp, and captured nearly all the cooking utensils, (articles then very scarce and much in demand.) A short time afterwards the Arkansas regiment was called on to perform the same duty, and, while absent, the Texas boys paid its camp a a visit, recaptured their cooking utensils, and carried off almost everything they could lay their hands on. The Arkansas boys, seeing the state of affairs on their return, determined to watch their opportunity for revenge.

About ten days after this, one of the Texas regiment died, and a party of his comrades started out to prepare a grave. After having completed their sad task, they returned to camp for the body. In the meantime, a small party from the Arkansas regiment, came out to perform their solemn duty, bearing the remains of their dead comrade with them. Finding a grave already dug, they quietly buried the body and returned to camp.

The Texas party, upon their return to the grave, comprehended the situation at a glance, and ever after "yielded the palm" for stealing to the Arkansas boys.

 

[4V50 Gary]

"I'm not dead yet!"

This is almost out of Monty Python and the Holy Grail.

The burial of the dead on the battlefield had to be done so hurriedly many times that more than one poor fellow who perhaps had been stunned and left on the field had a "close call" to being buried alive. A case in mind was that of one at Cold Harbor who had been picked up as dead, and as the men dropped their burden by the open trench the shock resuscitated the man and he faintly asked: "What's going on, boys?"

The response was, "We were going to bury you, Shorty."

"Not if I know myself," he replied. "Get me a cup of coffee and I'll be all right; I won't be buried by that county clodhopper."

The "clodhopper" referred to was the sergeant in charge of the squad, who belonged to a company of our regiment that came from the central part of the state, while a man who had been so near the "dark valley" was a member of the New York City company."

This was taken from Drum Taps in Dixie: Memoirs of a Drummer Boy, 1861-1865, Delavan S. Miller. The unit is the 2nd New York Heavy Artillery.

 

[kodiakbeer]

WWII Infantryman:

At some point during this period, Colonel Johnson, the Commander of the 117th, drove his shiny jeep past a filthy soldier who failed to Salute. Johnson backed up and told the man he’d either salute right now, or he’d find himself as the point man in Company A, 1st Battalion. The man simply replied “I am the point man in Company A…” Johnson saluted him and drove on.

 

[4V50 Gary]

In Deadly Earnest

by Phil Gottschalk. It's about the Confederate Missouri Brigade in the Civil War. Taken from page 353:

Alonzo H. Shelton, born in Kentucky, was farming in Platte County when he enlisted in August 1862 in the 3rd Missouri Infantry. He was captured in January 1863, exchanged and reported to "D" 3rd Missouri Infantry and later served in the consolidated 3rd-5th Missouri Infantry. He recalled a humorous incident when his regiment relieved a regiment of Georgia Militia manning the breastworks:

'[The enemy] had been having fun with the militia because their guns would not shoot far enough to hit them, and they did not know of the change of troops in the night, so a little after daylight they climbed out of their works and yelled out while they patted themselves behind 'here Johnny take a shot at me' and Johnny turned loose on them and turned several of them over before they could scramble back in their works, and from then until ten o'clock that was the hardest picket fight I was ever in, it was just a hard battle. I fired over forty shots, my gun got leaded and choked and my shoulder was black and bruised from the kicking of the gun. About ten a yank yelled out and wanted to know what troops we were, and little Johnny Williams, from Clinton county yelled back to him that we were 'War Democrats, come and take us' but the yanks were getting enough of us and called for a truce which we agreed to. The truce gave me a chance to clean my gun, but they came out of their pits and we met them halfway, talked and traded knives, coffee and tobacco, and finally had dinner together between the lines. After dinner we went back to our pits and shot at everything that wore blue coats just as vigorous as we did in the morning."

War Democrats was the element of the Democratic Party that supported the war, as opposed to the Copperhead Democrats who were anti-war and would have allowed the Confederacy to secede.

 

[4V50 Gary]

This is from Gerald Earley's, I Belonged to the 116th: A Narrative of the 116th Ohio Volunteer Infantry During the Civil War, pages 31-32:

"Soon after the 116th arrived in Romney, a party of twenty-five guerrillas made away with a shipment of mail bound for the railroad. Carelessness on the part of the cavalry escort was blamed for the loss. The men were no doubt outraged to think their personal letters to their wives and sweethearts were in the hands of the enemy. The mail at best was lost; at worst it would serve as an amusement to the guerrillas.

"A few days later a soldier, from Company I, presented himself to headquarters with a plan to solve the mail theft problem. The soldier asked to be allowed to act as a scout to gather information about the whereabouts of the guerrillas. With his help, he told the officers, the army would have advance information about the guerrilla movements and thus be able to avoid another guerrilla attack on the mail. This seemed like a very brave offer considering the danger and the risk involved in his plan. An officer asked if he could deceive the enemy about his true identity in the event of his capture. The soldier considered briefly and then replied, "I guess I can. I have deceived everyone I have ever had anything to do with so far in life." Headquarters was convinced, and the solider was sent off on his "scouting mission." A few days later, the "scout" was found in a house near the picket line where he had all the while been "sparking" a girl. According to Colonel Wildes, "His authority to scout was revoked but his ability to "deceive" remained unquestioned ever aftewards."

I picked up my copy at Petersburg National Battlefield Park last week.

 

[4V50 Gary]

Final entry from Gerald Earley's book listed above.

"On May 22, 1864, General Hunter issued General Order Number 29 through Assistant Adjutant General Halpine. The order exhorted the men to do their best to support General Grant's campaign and gave instructions for preparing the army for the march. Hunter ordered the army to subsist off the country but placed restrictions of foraging. Among other things the order called for the men to carry an additional pair of shoes and 100 rounds of ammunition. The problem was that many men were doing without shoes. In fact, Quartermaster Sergeant Ezra Walker reported that 175 pairs were needed for the 116th, and Walker was forced to look for knapsacks because the regiment had sent them back to Martinsburg on orders from Sigel. Captain Keys was sent to Martinsburg to retrieve the stored knapsacks and found that they had been lost or destroyed. While Keys ordered new knapsacks, Walker was able to gather about 200 knapsacks from other regiments so the 116th could carry all the extra ammunition. On the subsequent march an officer riding by the 116th asked, 'What troops are these?' The reply came from Jim Hall of Company A, 'Troops! This is Hunter's ammunition train.'"

 

[4V50 Gary]

Here's something about the Mexican Revolution.

"The Chinese proved apt scholars in this grim art of war and in a month they were ready to fight, as fighting goes in Mexico. So one fine day, when the Villista commisary was running low and there was a scarcity of the"dinero" of the realm they set out on a voyage to levy tribute, loot and kill, [...] the Orientals were elected to take the lead in going against the invaders. The Chinese are not given to wasting anything, not even ammunition. They permitted the Villa contingency, which outnumbered them about six to one, to come within easy range. Then they opened up, and just kept on pumping bullets into the Villistas until two-third of their number had been wiped out. [...] From that day on Pancho Villa has had a price on every Chinamen's head in Mexico."

Excellent fire discipline was displayed here.

Many Chinese in Mexico threw their lot in with General Pershing when he led a punitive expedition against Pancho Villa. They became the cooks, laundrymen and most importantly, the mule skinners who supported Pershing's columns. Knowing that they would be executed by Villa if left behind, he brought them with him when he recrossed the border back into the United States and had them housed on an army base until he could get a special law passed that granted them permanent residency (despite the Chinese Exclusion Act). They became known as Pershing's Chinese.

The Chinese who stayed behind (because they were not participants of Pershing's campaign) were executed, along with their Mexican wives and their children, by Villa and his men. It was genocide south of the border.

From Tang, Irwin A, Asian Texans: Our History and Our Lives, Austin: The It Works, 2007, p 114-115. The Chinese joined los Federales after 300 of their number were massacred in Torreon (May, 1911). The company involved was recruited in Chihuahua City, NW of Torreon. Adapted from "Planting the Celestial Republic in San Antonio," San Antonio Express, June 17, 1917.

 

[4V50 Gary]

This excerpt is from the same book.

The 1880 U.S. census shows 136 Chinese Texans, 72 of them living in Robertson County, in the farmlands around Calvert and Hearne. While some of the Chinese American men of Robertson County had wives and family in China, others married Texas women. Among those, some married white women, and most married African American women. Of the latter, there was a name named Bar Low, who expanded his name to Bar Low Williams. The name change did not represent a complete assimilation. When discussing the after-life with a Baptist preacher, Bar Low Williams declared, "I don't think I want to go to your heaven, so high, high, up there in the cold, cold sky. Your hells sounds better, warm and not so far away."