16th Connecticut: 'Martyr to this unholy rebellion'

Close-up of eagle atop brownstone memorial for Rodolphus Rowe and John F. Banning, soldiers
in the 16th Connecticut who became prisoners of war on April 20, 1864.

Scattered throughout Connecticut, from Avon to Bristol to Glastonbury and East Haddam, gravestones and memorials for soldiers in the hard-luck 16th Connecticut aren't difficult to find.

Two tragic events took a terrible toll on the regiment.

On Sept. 17, 1862 at Antietam, the inadequately trained 16th Connecticut suffered 43 killed and 161 wounded in its first battle of the war. On April 20, 1864, nearly the entire regiment was captured in Plymouth, N.C., and sent to Andersonville, Ga., where many of the men died in the most notorious Civil War prisoner-of-war camp.

Memorial to 16th Connecticut soldiers Rodolphus Rowe
 and John Banning in East Hartland Cemetery.

On a recent weekend, I stumbled upon a memorial for two more 16th Connecticut soldiers in a small church cemetery in Hartland, a beautiful, little town near the Massachusetts border.

Rodolphus Rowe, a musician in the 16th, and John Banning, a private, were captured at Plymouth and sent to Andersonville. Neither soldier from Company E returned home alive. In fact, neither man is buried under the weathered, 8-foot brownstone monument in their memory near the entrance to East Hartland Cemetery.

After he was exchanged, Rowe, quite ill from  months in a squalid POW camp, died aboard a ship heading north on Nov. 29, 1864. The 26-year-old soldier was buried in Beaufort, S.C. Banning, 32, died Sept. 3, 1864 at Andersonville, where he is buried under Grave No. 7742.

Who were Rodolphus D. Rowe and John Banning?

Were they friends before they went off to war?

What instrument did Rowe play?

Did they run when the 16th Connecticut was routed at Antietam, as many of their comrades did?

Sadly, I have more questions than answers about two men who died nearly 150 years ago.

John Banning lived with his mother,  Martha, a seamstress, and three other Bannings,
according to the 1860 Federal census.

According to the Federal census, Rodolphus Rowe lived with his parents, John and Anna, in 1860.

Each soldier was from Hartland, a small farming town of nearly 900 people about 30 miles from  Hartford. (1) Banning, the son of Benjamin and Martha Banning, was born the day after Christmas 1831. John's father died in 1845 when he was a teenager, so his mother, a seamstress, depended on her only son for support.

"Merchants in this place know that previous to John F. going into the army he furnished groceries for his mother," Philo. Coe of Hartland noted in an affidavit in support of Martha Banning's pension claim after her son's death. After he joined the army, John continued to support his mother by sending money home, including his $75 state bounty. (2)

This cracked brownstone memorial notes that Rodolphus Rowe
 enlisted on Aug. 7, 1862 as a musician.

A year before the Civil War began, John lived with his mother and three other Banning family members, including Ambrose, whose occupation was listed as farmer. John undoubtedly helped with the many duties required to maintain a farm.

Details of Rowe's life are more sketchy. The son of John and Martha Rowe, Rodolphus was born on March 1, 1838.  In  July 1860, when a Federal census taker visited the Rowe farm, 22-year-old Rodolphus still lived at home.

Perhaps persuaded by the call of Connecticut governor William Buckingham and President Lincoln for volunteeers in 1862 or the offer of a bounty, Banning and Rowe enlisted in the Union army that summer. Banning joined July 23 and mustered into the 16th Connecticut on Aug. 24, 1862. Rowe enlisted on Aug. 7, 1862, and  mustered in the same day as Banning.

Banning never married, and Rowe left behind a wife. Clearly, both men were mourned when news of their deaths reached the small town in northwestern Connecticut.

Banning's mother depended on her son for support. In an affidavit filed Jan. 22, 1865, she noted
that her son left her his entire estate, which after it was settled was valued at $450.
(CLICK TO ENLARGE.)

Below Rowe's name on the brownstone memorial, perhaps placed in the ancient cemetery years after he died, these words appear:

"Beloved husband there's no parting in heaven."

Worn by the elements and obscured by moss, some of the words are difficult to decipher under Banning's name. But someone, perhaps the mother who depended on his support, made their feelings clear about his death and a horrible Civil War. Inscribed near the bottom of the monument are these words:

"A martyr to this unholy rebellion."

(1) 1860 Federal Census
(2) Pension claim affidavit, Nov. 30, 1865, other pension affidavits

An eagle grasps an American flag above musician Rodolphus Rowe's name on a memorial
marker in East Hartland Cemetery in Hartland, Conn.

David Thatcher's final resting place

Confederate soldier David Thatcher, mortally wounded on Oct. 19, 1863,  is buried in
Tuscarora Presbyterian Church in Martinsburg, W.Va.

This ambrotype of David Thatcher is in the
 Library of Congress collection.

In early March, I blogged about a Martinsburg, W.Va., woman who provided the name of a long-unidentified image of a young Confederate soldier that's now in the collection of the Library of Congress.

Last week, I visited the grave of that soldier, 19-year-old David Thatcher, who was mortally wounded Oct. 19, 1863, at the Battle of Buckland Mills, near Warrenton, Va. Thatcher, who served in the 1st Virginia Cavalry, is buried in a small cemetery behind Martinsburg's Tuscarora Presbyterian Church, several miles down the road from where I started my journalism career as sports editor of the Martinsburg Evening Journal many years ago.

The bottom of Thatcher's tombstone reads:

When thou goest out to battle
against thine enemies, be not
afraid of them, for the Lord
thy God is with thee.

When I lived in Martinsburg, the road past the little church wasn't nearly as busy as it was last Thursday. Greater Martinsburg -- that sounds a little odd -- is encroaching on an area that undoubtedly was very rural decades ago.

The ambrotype of Hatcher is one of hundreds of Civil War images donated to the Library of Congress in the past two years by Tom Liljenquist of McLean, Va. He and his sons collected high-quality images of Union and Confederate soldiers.

Thatcher is buried behind Tuscarora Presbyterian Church, which dates to the mid-18th century.

Close-up of top of Thatcher's tombstone.

Faces of the Civil War: Relic hunter Richard Clem

Richard Clem, holding a small silver Civil War ID badge he found while relic hunting, estimates
he and his brother have dug 30,000 bullets. They sold 15,000 of the bullets to a New York man.

After 10 minutes of small talk, the wiry man with combed-back gray hair gestured for me to follow him to his car to view his Civil War treasure.

"Look here, John," longtime relic hunter Richard Clem said quietly as he pulled a small tin from the back of his blue car in the overflow lot at the Visitors' Center at Antietam National Battlefield on a sunny Saturday morning.

Silver ID badge of  Consider Heath Willett, a sergeant in  
Co. E. of the 44th New York. Richard Clem found this rare relic
near Antietam National Battlefield.

The 72-year-old retired woodworker opened the box to reveal seven small metal objects discarded or lost by Civil War soldiers nearly 150 years ago:

Two rare officers buttons, the gold on them still shiny.

Three brown Union soldier identification tags, each about the size of a quarter, the names of the original owner still legible on each.

A stunning 1852 2 1/2-dollar gold coin, a little smaller than a dime.

And the ultimate prize of the collection: an ultra-thin silver soldier ID badge, about an inch wide and creased twice, that Clem found at Lappan's Crossroads, several miles from the Antietam battlefield, the day after Thanksgiving 1986.

In ornate writing on the front of the badge are these words:

Sergt. C.H. Willett, Co. E, 44th N.Y. Vol.

After years of painstaking research, the lifelong Hagerstown, Md.-area resident discovered that the original owner of the badge, a soldier named Consider Heath Willettt, had rescued 97 rebels during fighting at Little Round Top at Gettysburg on July 2, 1863. Trapped between a deadly crossfire from Union and Confederate lines, the beleaguered men were out of ammunition in no-man's land. Willett, a sergeant from Albany, volunteered to lead men from the 44th New York to take them to safety.

One of Richard Clem's prized finds: an 1852 2 1/2 dollar gold coin.

For Clem, these fabulous finds represent a tiny fraction of the treasure -- from bullets to buckles to artillery shells -- that he has pulled from the ground of Civil War battlefield and camp sites in Maryland, West Virginia and Virginia in four decades of relic hunting. Often hunting with his younger brother, Don, he estimates they have dug 30,000 Civil War bullets, many from the hallowed ground at Antietam. (They sold 15,000 of those bullets to a New York man for a dollar apiece.)

Before he purchased his first metal detector, Clem eyeballed relics at Antietam in the early 1960s. Back then, long before much of the current battlefield became part of the national park, Antietam was a Civil War relic hunter's dream. After seeking permission of the land owner, Clem and his brother hunted large swaths of the field.

As Connecticut Civil War Roundtable member Blair Pavlik 
and others listen, Richard Clem tells Civil War relic hunting tales
 Saturday at the  Visitors' Center at Antietam National Battlefield.

"There's hardly any part of this battlefield I haven't covered," he said.

Clem and his brother often worked four-day weeks, leaving Fridays free for relic hunting in the many Civil War-rich sites near his home. In fact, he found a Civil War belt buckle right in his own backyard using a metal detector.

After he held an audience of  re-enactors and other Civil War enthusiasts at Connecticut Day spellbound Saturday morning with tales of his digging exploits, Clem, Civil War blogger John Rogers (Private Oliver Case blog) and I spent several hours on the battlefield.

"I found buckles back there," he said as we walked about the West Woods.

As I drove down the narrow lane leading to the Pry House, General George McClellan's headquarters at Antietam, Clem gestured to a field to our left. "I once found 100 bullets back there," he said matter-of-factly. "I think they belonged to McClellan's bodyguard."

What once was a hobby has clearly turned into an obsession for Clem, whose wife eyes her husband warily whenever he looks down outside. "When she sees me looking at a piece of ground," he said with a mischievious grin, "she always thinks I'm thinking of Civil War relics."

Longtime relic hunter Richard Clem gave me 
this beautiful Federal eagle breast plate 
that he dug in 1994.

Although many Antietam-area sites have been picked clean -- probably by Richard and his brother -- he still continues hunting. And he relishes sharing his obsession with others.

After he showed me his seven prized relics, Clem pulled out a 6 x 4-inch box from the floor of his car. In it was a beautiful Federal eagle breast plate with a rich green patina, a Clem find from 1994, also at Lappan's Crossroads.

"Do you like it?" he asked.

"It's beautiful, Richard," I said.

"It's yours," he said.

For once in my life, I didn't know what to say.

After we had toured the battlefield for hours, I dropped Richard Clem off at the Visitors' Center parking lot.

As he opened the car door, the old relic hunter turned and shook my hand.

"God bless you," he said.

That was the best gift of all.

Richard Clem's prized Civil War relic hunting finds: 1) Staff officer's button;
2) 1852 gold 2 1/2 dollar coin; 3) Silver ID badge of Consider Willett in the 44th  New York;
4)  ID tag of John Thompson of 3rd Vermont;  5) ID tag of Lafayette Hunting of 49th New York; 
6) Officer's button; and 7) ID tag of William Secor of 2nd Vermont.

Antietam: If these trees could talk ...

This sycamore next to Burnside Bridge dates to the battle.

When you're obsessed with the Civil War, you do odd things.

You kick at the ground at a battlefield, hoping a piece of artillery shell or a bullet will turn up.

The Burnside Bridge tree up close.

You look at a well-worn path deep in the woods, wondering if the men in the blue or gray walked there.

And you think about trees.

Which ones stood during a battle?

There are at least two "witness trees" at Antietam, one well known and one not.

At Burnside Bridge, a majestic sycamore next to the beautiful stone arch bridge pre-dates the Sept. 17, 1862 battle. It appears in several photos taken by Alexander Gardner in the days after the fighting.

In the West Woods, where Justus Wellington and many soldiers in the 15th Massachusetts were killed, there's another, lesser-known "witness tree," according to battlefield park volunteer Jim Buchanan, author of the excellent Walking the West Woods blog. At the time of the battle, the West Woods included many 300-year-old oak trees. After the battle, most of those trees were cut down by farmers, but the tree shown below escaped the chopping block.

How many pieces of lead from the battle remain in that tree?

If it fell in a storm, what would we find?

And wouldn't it be great if this tree could talk?

Oddly, I wonder.

This tree in the West Woods at Antietam, near Maryland State Highway 65, dates to the battle,
according to battlefield park volunteer Jim Buchanan.

Antietam: Reading Private Tarbox's final letter

Private Daniel Tarbox

Fellow blogger John Rogers (Oliver Case blog) and I got up before the crack of dawn today to walk a soggy battlefield, proving that we're slightly obsessed about this Civil War thing. (Or perhaps that our SAT scores were extremely low.) We also discovered exactly what Antietam looks like at 6 a.m. on a rainy morning: very dark.

Besides walking part of the Final Attack trail with John, I intended to fulfill a promise to a descendant of 11th Connecticut private Daniel Tarbox by reading the soldier's final letter home to his father, Daniel Sr. Only 18 years old, Tarbox was mortally wounded near Burnside Bridge. The video was shot close to where Tarbox was shot. Other than calling the descendant an "ancestor" in the video, I think it turned out nicely.

Daniel's brother, Louis, arranged for the return of the body to Brooklyn, Conn., where Daniel was buried in early October 1862. His grave in South Cemetery is marked with a flag in the foreground of the panoramic image at bottom. The tall memorial 10 feet in back of Daniel's gravestone notes that he was wounded near Burnside Bridge. Carved into the memorial near the bottom are these words: "Father and brothers, all a long farewell!””

Daniel Tarbox was mortally wounded approximately where the 'X' is in this photo.

                                               Click on image for full-screen panorama.

Antietam: Gifts on Connecticut Day

A Federal eagle breast plate given to me as a gift today.

Re-enactors take positions outside the Pry Farm barn
during Connecticut Day at Antietam on Saturday.

A notebook from Connecticut Day at Antietam:

• I received an unexpected gift this morning at the Visitors' Center: a beautiful Federal eagle breast plate with a rich green patina found near Lappan, Md., along the route of Lee's retreat from Gettysburg. The longtime relic hunter who gave it to me held an audience of  re-enactors and other Civil War enthusiasts spellbound with tales of his digging exploits at Antietam and elsewhere in Washington County in Maryland. I'll post the who, what, when and where on this remarkable man in this space next week.
• The best gift today was the terrific response of folks from the state who came to support Connecticut Day at Antietam, the first such event here since veterans returned to the battlefield in 1894. Led by Central Connecticut State University professor Matt Warshauer, two busloads of people toured the battlefield, many for the first time. In addition, many others from the state came on their own, prompting one longtime battlefield volunteer to tell me he has never seen so many Connecticut license plates at Antietam.
• It was eerie sitting in the Pry Farm barn for the ceremony honoring Connecticut soldiers who fought here. Rain forced the event to be moved from the national cemetery. Like almost every barn in the area, the Pry Farm barn was used as a field hospital during and after the battle. I examined the old barn floor for blood stains. None found.



Horace Lay, a private in the 16th Connecticut from
Hartford, is buried in the national cemetery
 in Sharpsburg, Md.

•  John Schildt, a longtime Sharpsburg-area resident and prolific writer on the battle, delivered a wonderful address honoring the men of Connecticut who died at Antietam. It included mention of 16th Connecticut captain Newton Manross of Bristol, who was killed by cannon fire in farmer John Otto's 40-acre cornfield. A brilliant man who was professor at Amherst (Mass.) College just before he went to war, Manross was "one of a lost generation," Schildt noted. He is buried in Forestville Cemetery in Bristol.
• To honor Private Horace Lay of the 16th Connecticut, I left a penny on his gravestone in the national cemetery. Shot in the left leg on the Otto Farm, the Hartford soldier died on Oct. 5, 1862, nearly three weeks after the battle, at the German Reform Church, a short distance down Main Street from the national cemetery. 
• I got a kick out of introducing John Rogers, a Georgia native, to folks from Connecticut. In 1994, Rogers bought a bible at a community yard sale in Germantown, Md. He later discovered it belonged to Oliver Case, a private from Simsbury in the 8th Connecticut, who was killed at Antietam. If you are interested in Connecticut's service during the Civil War, do yourself a favor and read John's excellent blog on Case. 

Per the John Banks' Civil War blog tradition, I put a penny on the grave of Horace Lay
to honor the 16th Connecticut soldier from Hartford who was killed at Antietam.

---

MORE ON ANTIETAM: Read my extensive thread on the battle.

Antietam: 11th Connecticut photo/video journal

11th Connecticut monument at Antietam. Thirty-six soldiers in the regiment were killed
in the battle, including Colonel Henry Kingsbury.

Close-up of reverse of the 11th Connecticut monument.

Daniel Tarbox was mortally wounded at Antietam.

His first name is listed incorrectly on the 11th Connecticut monument at Antietam, surely not the first time a soldier's name has been screwed up by the government. So to properly honor Daniel Tarbox at Connecticut Day on Saturday, I plan to read aloud his final letter home, a short note to his father that mentioned an imminent battle. (UPDATE: I read the letter Sunday.)

"If we go in," the private in the 11th Connecticut  wrote on Sept. 6, 1862, "we can't think of coming out. If I do fall, you take what money I have sent home and appropriate it to yourself as a present."

Eleven days later, Tarbox was mortally wounded near Burnside Bridge at Antietam. Only 18 years old, he died the next day.

Early this morning, I walked the ground young Daniel and his fellow soldiers fought on and visited the off-the-beaten path 11th Connecticut monument, approximately 150 yards southeast of Burnside Bridge. Daniel's name is listed as David near the bottom left corner, but there's no hope of correcting that, according to a Tarbox descendant.

Captain John Griswold and Corporal John Holwell, whose stories are told on my blog, also died near Burnside Bridge. A natural-born leader and a Yale graduate, Griswold was wounded in the middle of Antietam Creek as he led a group of 11th Connecticut skirmishers. After staggering to the opposite bank, he was rescued by four privates and a surgeon and carried to a small barn nearby.

"My first station was in a little barn by Antietam Creek," Surgeon Nathan Mayer wrote in a post-war account, "but the Rebel sharpshooters from behind the trees, across the creek, soon drove me out. There, however, I dressed Captain Griswold, shot through the belt and body fording the stream." (1)

Griswold died the next day.  "Tell my mother," the 25-year-old soldier from Lyme, Conn., said, "I died at the head of my company."

Holwell, in Company H of the 11th Connecticut, frequently wrote his wife back in Norwich, often mentioning his children. His young son, Eddy, apparently was his father's favorite.

Surgeon Nathan Mayer treated wounded
 soldiers at the Henry Rohrbach Farm.

"Your dagerreotype and the children's look very natural and I was very glad to receive them. ..." he wrote Rebecca Holwell. "I hope little Eddy will keep on going to school and be smart. The men down here all like his picture and praise it up highly."

A Mexican War veteran, John Holwell was 42 years old when he was killed at Antietam. His gravesite is unknown.

Not far from the bridge is the Henry Rohrbach Farm, where many of the 11th Connecticut wounded -- including the beloved Colonel Henry Kingsbury -- were treated. Shot through the stomach and liver as he stepped from behind a tree, Kingsbury died the next day.

"Every room was soon filled (with wounded)," Mayer wrote of the Rohrbach farmhouse. "The barnyard and garden were crowded with wounded. And (I) should not have known where to place more." (2)

After his gruesome work was done that day, Mayer took advantage of the bounty of riches on the Rohrbach farm. "There were some 300 chickens and some calves about the place which the rebels had been too hurried to capture," he wrote. "And flour, and meal and bread." (3)

Connecticut Day visitors to Antietam will stop at the national cemetery, attend a short service at the church where soldiers from the state were treated and tour the battlefield. But I think the highlight of the day will be when descendants read aloud letters of their ancestors near the Visitors' Center. I'll share the best stories and photos later today.

(1) Reminescences of the Civil War, Nathan Mayer, M.D., Connecticut Historical Society Civil War Manuscripts Project.

(2) Ibid.

(3) Ibid.

Daniel Tarbox was mortally wounded approximately where the 'X' is in this photo I shot this morning.

Henry Rohrbach's barn was used as a field hospital during the Battle of Antietam.
Note the initials H.R. on the side of the brick barn wall.

Henry Rohrbach's farmhouse also was used as a field hospital.

Antietam: Beauty on the battlefield

An unusual view of Burnside Bridge over Antietam Creek, perhaps the most iconic Civil War site.

Nearly 150 years ago, people killed each other at Burnside Bridge at Antietam. Many Connecticut soldiers lost their lives at this hotly contested spot, including Captain John Griswold of Lyme, Corporal John Holwell of Norwich and Private Daniel Tarbox of Brookyln. I was the only soul here this morning at 7. No place on the battlefield is photographed more, and as you can see, there's ample subject matter. (OK, more war stuff coming later.)

Burnside Bridge and the bluff overlooking Antietam Creek serve as a backdrop for Mother Nature.



Antietam: 15th Massachusetts soldier returns

Shortly after I arrived at Antietam this afternoon, I traipsed through tall, wet grass to the 15th Massachusetts monument on a rise overlooking State Highway 65. Because of its out-of-the-way location, few battlefield visitors check out the "Wounded Lion" monument, a pity because it's easily one of the most beautiful on the field.  Today's visit was special because I brought with me from Connecticut a ninth-plate ambrotype of Justus Wellington, a private in the 15th Massachusetts, who was among the 70-plus soldiers in the regiment who were killed within 20 minutes during fighting in the West Woods at Antietam on Sept. 17, 1862.

 A 24-year-old shoemaker from West Brookfield, Mass., Wellington probably was buried with other soldiers from his regiment across the highway (which didn't exist in 1862), near the Mary Locher Cabin. His remains were not returned to West Brookfield, so it's a good bet he was disinterred after the battle and eventually buried under a gravestone marked "Unknown" in Antietam National Cemetery. Wellington's name is listed among those killed in the regiment on the bottom left corner on a plaque on the back of the 15th Massachusetts monument. To honor the young man who died here nearly 150 years ago, I placed Wellington's ambrotype near his name on the monument and shot the video above and photo below. I did this once before several years ago, but it will never get old.

Next time you are in Sharpsburg,Md., be sure to check out this hidden gem just off State Highway 65, near the Antietam National Battlefield Visitors' Center.

Ambrotype of Justus Wellington from my collection next to his name on the 15th Massachusetts
monument at Antietam. Private Wellington was killed in the West Woods here on Sept. 17, 1862.

Close-up of front of the 15th Massachusetts monument at Antietam.

Nature put on a spectacular display today in the West Woods at Antietam.

Antietam: Connecticut Day on Saturday

Top photo: 11th Connecticut veterans gather in front of the Roulette farmhouse during
 their 1894 visit to Antietam. Below: Roulette farmhouse today. (Top photo: Courtesy Tad Sattler)

On Saturday morning in Sharpsburg, Md., two busloads of folks from Connecticut will begin their tour of Antietam at the railroad station where veterans began their visit to the battlefield in October 1894. The first Connecticut Day at Antietam since those veterans visited the field promises to be a special -- and moving --  event. During their trip to Antietam 118 years ago,  the old soldiers dedicated monuments to the 8th, 11th, 14th and 16th Connecticut regiments and toured the field where many of their friends were killed 32 years earlier. Among many other activities, this new generation of  visitors will honor soldiers from Connecticut who fought at Antietam at a ceremony at the national cemetery in Sharpsburg, just up Main Street from the church where wounded soldiers from the state were treated after the battle. Beginning Thursday, I will be in Sharpsburg too, blogging on what should be a terrific 3 1/2 days in one of my favorite places.

"Old Simon" stands watch at Antietam National Cemetery.

Faces of the Civil War: Private Daniel Tarbox

Wearing a uniform with corporal's stripes, Private Daniel Tarbox of the
 11th Connecticut posed for this photo at a Hartford studio. The 18-year-old
 from Brooklyn, Conn., was  mortally wounded at Antietam. 
(Photo courtesy Scott Hann.)

In his final letter home, Daniel Tarbox had a sense of impending doom.

"I expect we are going into it now for good," the private in the 11th Connecticut wrote his father, Daniel Sr., from Washington on Sept. 6, 1862. "Right where grape & shrapnel and chain shot fly thick. And whole company’s and Reg’ts are mowed down at one volley.

"If we go in, we can’t think of coming out," he continued. "If I do fall, you take what money I have sent home and get my bounty and appropriate it to yourself as a present. But I hope for the best."

Wrapping up the letter by noting that dead horses lay in the middle of the road from Alexandria and members of Congress "rode by in hacks," the teenager signed off:

From your Affect. Son
Daniel Tarbox

Eleven days after he wrote that letter home, the 18-year-old soldier from Brooklyn, Conn., was mortally wounded near Burnside Bridge at Antietam on Sept. 17, 1862. He expired a day later, one of more than 2,000 Union soldiers to die at Antietam.

According to Tarbox descendant, this is the approximate location and time of the
 private's mortal wounding at Antietam. This photo was taken by famed Civil War
 photographer Alexander Gardner  after the battle. (Library of Congress collection)

Thanks to Antietam collector Scott Hann, who provided the carte de visite of Daniel above, and a Tarbox descendant, who e-mailed me a copy of his ancestor's final letter, I have a more complete picture of the teen-aged soldier.

Word of Daniel's death apparently traveled slowly back to Brooklyn, a small farming community about 45 miles east of Hartford. On Sept. 25, eight days after the battle, a worried Louis Tarbox, obviously eager for news on his brother's fate, wrote his father from New York about the Antietam casualty list that had appeared in the New York Tribune:

Dear Father:

I noticed in this morning's Tribune a list of the killed & wounded in the 11th Regt. Conn. Vols, among which is Daniel's name as killed. I will send you a copy of the Tribune & you can see for yourself. I have every reason to believe the list in here.

On Sept. 26, 1862, the Hartford Courant published a list 
of Antietam  casualties. Daniel Tarbox of Company F
 was listed as killed.

Hopefully you have heard from another source as it is the Captain's (Kies) duty to inform you. Please write to me whether you have heard or not.

Yours affectionately, Louis.

Perhaps the family first found out the terrible news of Daniel's fate when the Hartford Courant published a list of Antietam casualties on Sept. 26. Daniel's name was one of 37 soldiers listed as killed in the 11th Connecticut.

Or perhaps the Tarbox family first got word when they received this letter, dated Sept. 21, 1862:

Mr. Tarbox


Dear sir, it becomes my pain full duty to inform you of the death of your son Daniel Tarbox. Your son was wounded in the battle of Sharpsburg on the 17th and died the next day of his wound. His effects were taken pocession of by G. Preston. I did not see Daniel after he was taken from the field but as soon as I see Preston I will write you all the particulars.

Yours Respectfully,
John Kies Capt. Co F

Because the Union army was ill-equpped to deal with death on such a massive scale, many families had to arrange to retreive their dead loved ones from the battlefield. That duty fell to Louis, who paid a man named Augustus Martin to disinter his brother's body and provide a zinc coffin for his return to Connecticut.

Sometime in early October, Louis returned to Brooklyn with Daniel's body. A funeral was held and Daniel Tarbox Jr., the son of a prosperous farmer, was buried in South Cemetery, about a quarter-mile from the center of town.

Receipt provided Louis Tarbox for payment to disinter his brother's body and 
purchase of a zinc coffin  to transport him back to Connecticut. Daniel Tarbox 
was buried in Brooklyn, Conn. (Receipt courtesy of Daniel Tarbox Jr. descendant)
CLICK ON IMAGE TO ENLARGE.

Daniel Tarbox's memorial marker in South Cemetery in Brooklyn, Conn.
 At the bottom are these words: "Father and brothers, all a long farewell!"

Drumbeat of history: Massachusetts man truly a company man

Noble & Cooley Drum Company president Jay Jones with a prized possession: a drum the
 company made during the Civil War that was picked up by a soldier after the Battle of Gettysburg.

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Jay Jones loves drums.

Noble & Cooley Drum Company in Granville, Mass., about
 30 miles north of Hartford. The original Noble & Cooley factory
 burned down in 1889.

Shaping them.

Stamping them.

Talking about them.

Everything about them, it seems, except playing them.

"Why play?" the 58-year-old president of the Noble & Cooley Drum Company said with a grin as he bounded through the three-story factory showing me its nooks and crannies. "I can barely walk and chew gum at the same time." Understand that this comes from a man who has worked at his Water Street factory in some capacity since he was in  fourth grade.

I visited Jones at his company in Granville, Mass., a picturesque New England village about 30 miles north of Hartford, intent on examining a drum picked up from the Gettysburg battlefield. I came away with an appreciation of the craftmanship involved in making drums and the grand history of the Noble & Cooley Drum Company, which was co-founded by Jones' great-great-great grandfather, James Cooley, in 1854. The business has been in the Jones family ever since.

Jay Jones played drums in this Noble & Cooley
 ad from the 1960s. Jones' son plays the drums, 
but the company owner prefers other pursuits.

Noble & Cooley produced 651 toy and military drums in its first year. By 1873, the company produced 100,000 drums. During the 1860 presidential campaign, it made a drum for Abraham Lincoln, reportedly from a white oak rail split by Honest Abe in 1830. That drum -- which included expensive silk chord and silver mountings -- was used at Lincoln campaign rallies throughout Massachusetts and Connecticut. It later was taken to war by the 1st Massachusetts.

"On one side of it is a likeness of Mr. Lincoln, which is said to be a good representation of him," the Westfield (Mass.) Times Newsletter reported on Aug. 29, 1860. " It shows a powerful intellect and a large development of moral power; and such a head and face will show marked features, if not the delicate lines which some call beauty."

In his diary entry Aug. 18. 1860, James Cooley didn't mince words:

"Finished the Lincoln drum today, the finest thing ever made."

The current whereabouts of the Lincoln drum are unknown.

During the Civil War, the Union army contracted Noble & Cooley to make military drums. The exact number is unclear because the original factory in Granville burned down in 1889, and nearly all the company records were destroyed. Among the drums produced for the army was a standard 16-inch instrument that now has a home in a wood-and-glass case in a corner of the company museum.

A special camera shot this photo of the inside of the
 Gettysburg battlefield pickup drum, confirming that it 
was made by Noble & Cooley.

At the Battle of Gettysburg, James B. Forrest, a 17-year-old musician in the 28th Pennsylvania Infantry, picked up a marching drum from the field, perhaps after its original owner was killed or wounded. The drum remained in Forrest's family until it was purchased by a Civil War memorabilia broker. When it was offered for sale several years ago and confirmed to have been made by Noble & Cooley, the community aimed to return it to its birthplace. A benefactor from Granville eventually purchased it for the company for $5,000.

Noble & Cooley makes replicas of its Civil War drums using material that was available in the 1860s. Tulip wood is used for shells, calfskin for drumheads, and hemp and linen for chords. Like the Civil War-era drums, the replicas are light, weighing 7 1/2 to 8 pounds. Popular with collectors and re-enactors, a replica, which takes several months to make, can be yours for $850.

At its peak, Noble & Cooley employed around 60 people. Today, the company, whose main business is high-quality snare drums and drum sets, is the ultimate definition of a family-run business. Jones and his wife and son are the only employees.

Jones still remembers the day in 1972 his father asked if he wanted to work for the company full time. After one year of college, he figured it was worth a shot.

"The company has survived the Civil War, two World Wars and the Depression," he said. "It's 24-7, eight days a week, and I can't get away."

He said that with a smile.

Held together by a Civil War-era clamp from the original Noble & Cooley factory, this shell...

... eventually becomes a Civil War replica drum. The Noble & Cooley Drum Company
makes Civil War drums with the same materials used during the 1860s.

The eagle embossed on the drum shell at right was put on post-Civil War drums using the  roller at left. Both these items are in the company museum.

Used to decorate the shells of drums, this eight-color printing press is in the Noble &
 Cooley museum. The rare press dates to 1926.

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-- Have something to add, correct? E-mail me at jbankstx@comcast.net