Showing posts with label William Frassanito. Show all posts
Showing posts with label William Frassanito. Show all posts

Monday, June 05, 2017

Cold Harbor Then & Now: Union cavalry at Old Church Hotel

HOVER ON PHOTO TO SEE "NOW" IMAGE. (DOES NOT WORK ON PHONES.)
(THEN: Timothy O'Sullivan, Library of Congress | NOW: John Banks, June 5, 2017)

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On June 4, 1864, Union cavalry gathered at Old Church Hotel while their infantry comrades about five miles south in Cold Harbor, Va., dodged fire from Confederates and dug in for an extended standoff. Photographer Timothy O'Sullivan captured the hotel scene, which appears unremarkable at first glance.

One-hundred and fifty-three years and one day later, I dodged nothing but raindrops and busy morning traffic along Old Church Road to shoot a present-day image of O'Sullivan's long-ago stereoview. Enhanced by increasing contrast and using other modern magic, cropped enlargements of O'Sullivan's photo reveal cool details. (William Frassanito analyzed the image in his 1983 book, Grant And Lee: The Virginia Campaigns 1864-1865.)  In need of TLC, the old inn in the hamlet of Old Church is a private residence today.


Two apparently grim-looking cavalry officers, too indistinct to identify, stare at the cameraman from the porch of the Old Church Hotel, used by General Phil Sheridan as his cavalry corps headquarters ...


... while two other soldiers — one standing and leaning on his saber and another sitting on a railing — appear among at least two dozen horses in the photo. Animals found plenty of forage in fields in the immediate area, which, unlike much of the vicinity today, remains rural ...


... O'Sullivan's photograph shows the name of the hotel's proprietor — J.A. Lipscomb — which appears on the large sign in front of the two-story structure. Too bad we can't see anyone peering from the windows or porch on the second floor ...


... but we can easily see these two horses. Or is it three? One apparently is unable to remain still for O'Sullivan. And is that what we think it is at the hind legs of these nags? Ah, fellas, c'mon!

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-- For large-format Then & Now images, visit my blog here.

Sunday, May 01, 2016

Then & Now: Baptist church-turned-hospital in Fredericksburg

A cropped enlargement of  James Gardner's image
 reveals  broken windows. The church
was heavily damaged during the war.
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After an outstanding lunch at Sammy T's -- thanks for the advice, John Cummings -- I went into full Civil War nerd mode on Tuesday in Fredericksburg, Va. Lugging my time-worn copy of William Frassanito's excellent book, Grant And Lee: The Virginia Campaigns, 1864-1865for comparison purposes, I aimed to shoot "Now" versions of sites photographed in the area in May 1864. In a parking lot across the street from the historic Baptist Church on Princess Anne Street, I received sideways glances during attempts to replicate the image James Gardner took of the church on May 20, 1864.

Like many buildings in Fredericksburg, the Baptist church, which suffered severe damage during the Union's artillery bombardment of the town on Dec. 11, 1862, became a Federal hospital as casualties poured into town from the war-ravaged surrounding area. When Gardner shot the image, wounded from battles at Chancellorsville, The Wilderness, Spotsylvania Courthouse and elsewhere probably were being treated there.

Cropped enlargements of Gardner's image show a church peppered with damage inflicted by the Union army. The steeple appears riddled and many of the windows are broken. (Even several years ago, war damage to the steeple remained extensive, according to this terrific post on the National Park Service's Mysteries & Conundrums blog.)

Because of the inadequacies of the "Now" photographer, valuable information was cropped out of Gardner's original image, which you can view here on the Library of Congress web site. The Baptist Church, by the way, remains an active congregation.

For all the Then & Now images on my blog, go here.

War damage to the steeple and elsewhere may be seen in this cropped enlargement.

Saturday, April 19, 2014

History revealed: Sgt. Harvey Tucker's Fredericksburg grave

NO. 1: A photographer employed by Mathew Brady made this image of the burial of Federal dead,
 probably on May 20, 1864. (Library of Congress collection)
NO. 2: In this enlargement of the original image, "SAR" and "H. Tuck" appear on the grave marker
 by the  solder's right foot. A shovel obscures the rest of the writing on the marker.
NO. 3: An extreme close-up of Sergeant Harvey Tucker's wooden grave marker.

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The scene at the top of this post, photographed by Mathew Brady's operators in Fredericksburg, Va., on May 19 or 20, 1864, probably was repeated hundreds, if not thousands, of times in the town and the surrounding, war-ravaged countryside during the Civil War. Two wooden coffins lay on the ground, the bare feet of a dead soldier protruding between them (PHOTO 4) while two other bodies wrapped in blankets lay nearby. A man, perhaps a chaplain holding a Bible who was preparing to give the dead men a Christian burial, gazes into the distance while a burial detail and soldiers take a break from their sad tasks. A body appears on a stretcher in the background, which also includes at least 40 wooden markers designating the graves of Union soldiers who were killed in action or died from wounds or disease in or near the town along the Rappahannock River.

NO. 4: In this enlargement, a
 dead soldier's feet protrude
from behind a coffin.
Gravediggers stayed busy that spring. To keep pressure on Robert E. Lee and threaten the Rebel capital in Richmond, the Union army fought especially bloody battles at the Wilderness (May 5-7), Spotsylvania Courthouse (May 8-21) and elsewhere near Fredericksburg, causing thousands of casualties on both sides.

In his ground-breaking 1983 book, "Grant and Lee, The Virginia Campaigns 1864-1865," Civil War photography expert William Frassanito dissected this image and six other photos of this scene in Fredericksburg. Frassanito believed the image was taken by a photographer working for Mathew Brady on May 19 or May 20, 1864, but he was unable to pinpoint its location. Years later, painstaking research by Noel G. Harrison of the National Park Service revealed the photograph's location as the edge of Fredericksburg, on Winchester Street between Amelia and Lewis streets. Using a magnifying glass to view details in the original negative at the National Archives, Frassanito identified a soldier's name as well as his regimental number scrawled on the marker near the gravedigger's hand at the extreme right of the photograph (PHOTO 5). Further research by Frassanito identified that soldier as 121st New York Sergeant Lester Baum, 24, who had been mortally wounded at Spotsylvania Courthouse on May 10, 1864, and died nine days later.

NO. 5: In another enlargement of the original image, Sergeant Lester Baum's marker appears
 just below the right hand of the gravedigger at the far right.
PRESENT-DAY: Approximate site of Fredericksburg burial site in 1864. (Google Maps)
CLICK ON IMAGE TO ENLARGE.


Thankfully, I don't have to travel to the Library of Congress or National Archives in Washington or use a magnifying glass to examine glass-plate images from the Civil War, as Frassanito had to while researching his book in the 1970s and '80s. Easily enlarged, digitized versions of Civil War images are available on the excellent Library of Congress web site in JPEG and TIFF formats.

As examination on my blog of these Antietam images by Alexander Gardner shows, the detail found in glass-plate images is amazing, especially in TIFF format. In spring 2014, I re-examined the Fredericksburg burial image, eager to find overlooked details. A gravedigger's shovel, socks on the dead men wrapped in blankets and even wording on the tall marker (perhaps Private Alexander Read of Company K of the 84th Pennsylvania) are easily seen. But another grave marker in the right background, next to the seated soldier, attracted my attention. A shovel obscures part of the marker, but the letters "SAR" and "H. Tuck" appear by the soldier's right foot (PHOTOS 2 and 3).

Tucker died from the effects of his wounds on May 20, 1864,
 according to this document, dated July 10, 1864 and signed by
 6th Michigan 2nd Lieutenant William Creevy.
(CLICK ON IMAGE TO ENLARGE.)
Determined to identify who was buried underneath that marker, I spent a half-hour on the American Civil War Research Database to narrow the possibilities. I assumed the soldier's rank was sergeant by the apparent misspelling "SAR" at the top of the marker. I also assumed the soldier's last name was Tucker and searched all soldiers with that last name and a first name that began with "H" who did not survive the war. I ruled out soldiers with last names such as Tuckett or Tucksberry  because they didn't die in Virginia in the spring of 1864, their first names didn't begin with "H," or they didn't meet other criteria. Of the 13 Tuckers who did not survive the war, only one had a first name that began with "H" and served near Fredericksburg in 1864:

Sergeant Harvey Tucker of the 6th Michigan Cavalry. 

Wounded at the Battle of the Wilderness on May 6, 1864, Tucker died two weeks days later in Fredericksburg. He was 37 years old. Examination of 55 pages of documents in Tucker widow's pension file on fold3.com revealed many more details about the Michigan man's life — including his last days on Earth.

According to the 1860 U.S. census, Harvey Tucker was a married father of four children.
(CLICK ON IMAGE TO ENLARGE.)

Thirty-five year-old Harvey Tucker enlisted in the U.S. Army in Cottrellville, Mich., about 50 miles northeast of Detroit, on Sept. 10, 1862. Born in Massena, N.Y., he had gray eyes, dark hair, a swarthy complexion and stood 5-foot-7, about average height for a Civil War soldier. The decision to join the army must have been difficult for Tucker, a married man who lived in Ira Township, Mich., which rises from the shores of Lake St. Clair.

In June 1860, the Federal census taker noted that Tucker's household included his 27-year-old wife, Lovina, and four children: Susan, 7; Lyman, 5; Mary, 2; and Douglas, 9 months. (Another child, John, was born in September 1861.) A farmer and a blacksmith, Tucker had real estate valued at $700 and personal property worth $180, modest totals. Lovina's first husband abused her, and she "was taken away by her father," although the couple apparently did not legally divorce. Born in Canada, she married Harvey on May 20, 1852, when she was 19.

NO. 6: Does this enlargement of the
original image show
 6th Michigan
 
Chaplain Stephen S.N. Greeley?
 In May 1864, he was 50 years old.
A little more than a month after his enlistment, Tucker mustered into Company C of the 6th Michigan Cavalry, one of four regiments that formed the Michigan Cavalry Brigade. Its young brigadier general, George Armstrong Custer, would earn great acclaim during the last three years of the Civil War — and infamy in 1876 at Little Big Horn.

The 6th Michigan served mainly on picket duty until it saw its first major fighting during the Gettysburg Campaign on June 30, 1863, at Hanover, Pa. The regiment "particularly distinguished" itself, according to General Hugh Judson Kilpatrick, on July 2, 1863, at Hunterstown, Pa., where Custer set a trap and whipped Wade Hampton's cavalry. On July 3, in a cavalry fight east of Gettysburg, the brigade fought well against Jeb Stuart's horsemen, according to Custer, who wrote "there were many cases of personal heroism, but a list of their names would make my report too extended."

Earlier in 1863, Tucker apparently had attracted the notice of superiors, who promoted him to corporal on New Year's Day 1863 and to sergeant a little more than a month later. Battles in Virginia that fall at Brandy Station, Buckland Mills, Mine Run and Morton's Ford followed for the regiment, but fighting at the Wilderness dwarfed all the others.

A regimental band played "Yankee Doodle" as the 6th Michigan Cavalry dashed into battle on May 6 at the Wilderness, mostly thick woods that offered little visibility. Confederates nearly enveloped the Michiganders, who were armed with Spencer repeating rifles. But they turned the tide and held the right of the brigade's line. Sometime during the fight, a bullet struck Tucker a little above the hip, exiting at his opposite shoulder, perhaps indicating a shot from below. By 1864, the Army of the Potomac ambulance corps was well organized, and Tucker soon may have been transported 10 miles over the rough roads to Fredericksburg. The town became "one vast hospital" during the war as scores of buildings became sites to treat wounded and sick soldiers. 

Chaplain Stephen S.N. Greeley,
probably late 19th century.

He died in 1892 at age 79.
(Courtesy John Dickey)
Initially, Tucker appeared to be doing well. He had "regular passages of the bowels" and gave the regimental chaplain his address so he could write a letter home to his wife. But two weeks after he was wounded, Tucker suffered an internal hemorrhage, and the end came quickly at Cavalry Corps Hospital on May 20, 1864 — his 12th wedding anniversary. Later that morning, Chaplain Stephen S.N. Greeley wrote a four-page letter to Lovina Tucker to explain the circumstances of her husband's death. (See complete letter below).

"A kind-hearted, simple-minded gentleman of the old school," Greeley was not well suited to the rigors of war, a veteran wrote after the war. "[I]n the field he was more like a child than a seasoned soldier and needed the watchful care of all his friends to keep him from perishing with hunger, fatigue, and exposure." But the chaplain, 50 years old in May 1864, toughed it out with the 6th Michigan from 1862 through the end of the war, ministering to soldiers and often breaking sad news to loved ones back home.

"It becomes my painful duty to convey to you the sad intelligence that is often sent to dear wives and families of our noble soldiers," Greeley's letter to Tucker's wife began. "In this dreadful war they pass away by hundreds — and after battles by thousands."

At one point during the war, according to Harrison's research, burial crews interred Union dead in Fredericksburg "four deep" and often without identification or a proper burial service. In a 1998 article in Military Images Magazine, Harrison wrote that Corporal Albert Downs of the 57th New York, detailed to Fredericksburg as part of the provost guard, became appalled by the lack of concern for the dead. He persuaded superiors to provide proper burials for soldiers. On the morning he died, Tucker received a respectful service.

Post-war image of Fredericksburg National
Cemetery. The wooden markers shown
 here deteriorated and were replaced 

with stone markers.
 (Photo courtesy Jerry Brent,
executive director
Central Virginia Battlefields Trust)
"We had your husband enclosed in a coffin, while others were laid only in their blankets," Greeley wrote to Tucker's wife, " and when his body rested in the appointed place, many soldiers who stood round and a detachment of grave diggers uncovered their heads and stood in silence while I administered for your husband the right of a Christian burial."

Greeley's description of the service prompts several questions:

Could the scene he described be the same scene photographed by one of Brady's assistants in May 1864? Are the bodies wrapped in blankets in the image the same ones the chaplain described? Is Greeley actually the man holding the book in the image (PHOTO 6)?  Many other burials took place at the site in 1864, so the man with the book could be someone else, perhaps a member of the U.S. Christian Commission. Further research could yield definitive answers, maybe even a photograph of Sergeant Tucker himself. Although not conclusive evidence, the date of  Greeley's letter leads me to believe the photo of the Fredericksburg burial scene was taken on May 20, 1864.

After the Civil War, workers disinterred 328 bodies buried in the soldier's cemetery on Winchester Street and re-buried them in Fredericksburg National Cemetery, less than a mile away. Tucker's body was probably originally re-buried there under a marker that read "Unknown" — one of nearly 13,000 unknown Civil War soldiers graves in the cemetery on Marye's Heights overlooking town.

Sixth Michigan chaplain Stephen S.N. Greeley sent this four-page letter to Tucker's wife
explaining the circumstances of the sergeant's death after he was wounded at the
 Battle of the Wilderness. (fold3.com
Cavalry Corps Hospital
Fredericksburg Virginia
Friday morning, May 20, 1864

Dear Mrs. Tucker

It becomes my painful duty to convey to you the sad intelligence that is often sent to dear wives and families of our noble soldiers. In this dreadful war they pass away by hundreds -- and after battles by thousands. Our campaign opened on the 3rd day in May and for eight days after crossing the Rappidan and meeting the enemy there were most fearful and bloody engagements.

In one of the battles in the Wilderness our cavalry force had a terrific struggle. Your husband was pierced by a ball a little above the hip -- passing upward...

After he was wounded in the hip, Sergeant Harvey Tucker was transported to the 
Cavalry Corps Hospital  in Fredericksburg, Chaplain Greeley wrote. 
... and coming out below the opposite shoulder. This was on Friday, two weeks ago today. He was conveyed with some 15,000 wounded men to this town of Fredericksburg, where is established the Cavalry Corps Hospital -- and where I have remained with the cavalry department.

A day or two since Segt. Tucker requested me to write you for him and gave me your name & address. He seemed to be doing nicely. He had regular passages from the bowels and as far as I could see had every prospect of a speedy recovery. He was visited by Christian men of the "Christian Commision" and had kind attention in matters pertaining to the body & soul.

I was about to write you yesterday to be of good cheer with respect to him, but was delayed by business of town. On returning to ...

"Grave diggers uncovered their heads and stood in silence" at Tucker's burial, Greeley wrote.
... my surprise I found that yesterday afternoon he had been taken with internal hemorage (sic), together with a copious discharge of pus through the wound, and died in a very few minutes. My hopes that the ball had not touched the bowels had now proved fallicious.

I attended his remains this morning to a new Soldiers' Cemetery we have just secured. The dead were being constantly brought in from hospitals in every direction -- but we had your husband enclosed in a coffin, while others were laid only in their blankets, and when his body rested in the appointed place, many soldiers who stood round and a detachment of grave diggers uncovered their heads and stood in silence while I administered for your husband the right of a Christian burial. May God comfort ...

This letter appears on fold3.com and is available in Tucker's widow's pension file at the
 National Archives in Washington. (CLICK ON IMAGE TO ENLARGE.)
... you in your bereavement -- is the desire and prayer of .

Yours with respect and sympathy.

S.S.N. Greeley
Chaplain Sixth Mich. Cavalry

Mrs. Lovina Tucker
Bell River, Mich.


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SOURCES:

Sunday, March 23, 2014

Antietam Up Close: A lone grave on the battlefield

The original of Alexander Gardner's glass-plate image of a lone grave at Antietam.
(Library of Congress collection.)
This haunting photograph of five Yankee soldiers near the lone grave of one of their comrades at Antietam is one of the iconic images of the Civil War. These men, probably part of a burial crew, were photographed by Alexander Gardner on Sept. 19 or 20, 1862, two or three days after the battle. Perhaps the men resting on the ground at left had just completed the arduous task of burying comrades -- maybe they had even recently filled the grave in the foreground -- when Gardner came upon them.

In his ground-breaking book, "Antietam: The Photographic Legacy of America's Bloodiest Day," William Frassanito examined this glass-plate image in detail and even discovered the name and background of the soldier whose name appears on the wooden headboard at the fresh grave by the tree: John Marshall, a private in the 28th Pennsylvania. (A version of the image also was used on the cover of Frassanito's book.) While the original of the photograph has been seen in many publications over the years, enlargements of it probably have not. They are revealing. (Click on all images below to enlarge, and click here for the Antietam Up Close series on my blog.)


In an enlargement, this soldier, wearing a slouch hat, carrying a blanket roll and leaning on a musket, seems to stare directly at Gardner's camera ... 


... while these three soldiers appear unaware of the photographer's activities but probably were posed by Gardner.  At first glance, the soldier at the far left appears to be dead, but that's unlikely because he appears fully equipped -- Rebels often stripped Union dead at Antietam of valuables such as shoes -- and doesn't exhibit the bloating typical of a dead man exposed to the elements for days ...


... this young soldier with his musket stares into the distance. Perhaps only a teenager, he was among the lucky survivors of Antietam. Teen-aged soldiers from Connecticut such as this one and this one didn't survive the bloodiest day in American history while others were maimed for life ...


... John Marshall's name and regimental number are barely visible etched on a crude wooden headboard. On the original of the image at the Library of Congress, Marshall's regimental number clearly can be seen under magnification, according to Frassanito. Another piece of wood, perhaps a footboard, appears in this enlargement. From Allegheny City, Pa., across the river from Pittsburgh, Marshall was 50 years old, one of the oldest soldiers in the Union army. (Also killed at Antietam, 8th Connecticut private Peter Mann was 54 years old.) Sometime after the war, Marshall's remains were recovered and re-buried in Antietam National Cemetery under Grave 19 in the Pennsylvania section.

Wednesday, September 11, 2013

Antietam Up Close: The graves at Burnside Bridge

This enlargement of Gardner's image clearly shows another man, probably a soldier, on Burnside Bridge. 
The names of both men are lost to history.
(CLICK ON ALL IMAGES TO ENLARGE.)
On Sept. 21, 1862, famed Civil War photographer Alexander Gardner took this image  of a soldier near
 12 freshly dug graves at a stone wall near Burnside Bridge  at Antietam. (Library of Congress collection.)
In an enlargement of Gardner's image, the graves are easily seen. In his ground-breaking book,
Civil War photography expert William Frassanito first revealed the names of four of the
 51st New York soldiers buried at the wall. 
Another enlargement of Gardner's image shows the grave of a soldier in Company I  of the  51st New York, 
which stormed Burnside Bridge at 1 p.m. on Sept. 17, 1862. William Frassanito identified
 the soldier as Corporal Michael Keefe.

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One of my favorite Antietam images is the one at the top of this post by Alexander Gardner, whose haunting photograph graphically shows the terrible toll of war. On Sept. 21, 1862, four days after the Battle of Antietam, Gardner posed a soldier at a stone wall near the freshly dug graves of 12 of his comrades. Burnside Bridge, the scene of heavy fighting on the morning and early afternoon of the battle, appears in the background. The secrets of this image were long ago revealed by William Frassanito in his brilliant 1978 book, "Antietam: The Photographic Legacy of America's Bloodiest Day." If the book is not on your Civil War bookshelf or in your Kindle, it ought to be. Get it here.

My favorite Antietam book.
A former U.S. Army intelligence analyst, Frassanito did much of his photographic sleuthing with a magnifying glass, long before digital technology made such work a whole lot easier. Using a remarkably well-preserved original negative of Gardner's photograph, Frassanito determined from the writing scrawled on the wooden headboards that nine of the graves in the image were for soldiers in the 51st New York, who along with the 51st Pennsylvania and other units stormed the bridge and finally chased the Rebels from their perch across Antietam Creek.

Frassanito presumed that the three other graves were also for 51st New York soldiers. Profiled in June in the Washington Post, he was even able to decipher the names on four of the headboards: Sgt. George Loud of Company C (buried at the feet of the posed soldier); Private Edward Miller of Company H (three graves to the right of Loud); Private John Thompson of Company B (three graves to the right of Miller) and Corporal Michael Keefe of Company I (second grave to right of Thompson).

Using a digital copy of Gardner's image from the Library of Congress Civil War photography site, I was unable to read the names on the wooden headboards, but enlargements of the image reveal some pretty neat detail. Company I and NYV (New York Volunteers) are easily discernible on Keefe's wooden headboard, and another man, probably a soldier, can be seen on Burnside Bridge, over the right shoulder of the man posed in the foreground. The permanent graves of Loud, Miller, Thompson and Keefe are about a mile away, in the beautiful grounds of Antietam National Cemetery. Stop to think about those four men and their eight other comrades the next time you visit Burnside Bridge.

That's me, your humble blogger, posed at the approximate position of the soldier in Gardner's image.

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Tuesday, March 13, 2012

Antietam image: It's all in the details

After Antietam, famed Civil War photographer Alexander Gardner took this photo of
a young Confederate soldier and the grave of another soldier next to him.
(Library of Congess collection)

Killed at Antietam, Lieutenant John Clark was buried in 
this grave.  His name and regiment were etched on a crude 
wooden headboard (arrow).  Clark was later disinterred and
 re-buried in Monroe, Mich.  This is an enlargement 
of a section of the image at top.
Andy Hall, who cranks out thought-provoking stuff over at the Dead Confederates blog, posted a spot-on comment on my post on Hartford undertaker William Roberts in which I included the photo above. The detail in glass plate negatives of  Civil War-era photographs, Hall noted, is amazing.

To the right of the dead young Rebel in Alexander Gardner's photo taken after the Battle of Antietam is the hastily dug grave of another soldier, marked by a crude wooden headboard with writing on it. Under magnification -- or enlarged using picnik at right -- the name of that soldier can be discerned:

J.A. Clark,
7th Mich.

William Frassanito, a former U.S. Army intelligence analyst, first revealed this detail in his terrific book on Antietam  published way back in 1978, before the Internet made such research a whole lot easier, before cell phones -- heck, maybe even before cars. A dog-earred copy of Frassanito's work, Antietam: The Photographic Legacy of America's Bloodiest Day, easily remains my favorite book on the battle. Go buy it.

Clark, whose image you can view at the Archives of Michigan site, enlisted in the Union army on June 19, 1861, two months after the first shots of the war were fired at Fort Sumter. Promoted to first lieutenant 10 months later, he served during McClellan's Peninsula Campaign near Richmond. After he was killed at Antietam on Sept. 17, 1862, Clark was buried east of the West Woods and just south of infamous Cornfield. He was 21 years old.

Alexander Gardner
The young rebel to the left of Clark's grave has never been identified.

Gardner's images of the dead of Antietam were later shown at an exhibition at Mathew Brady's gallery in New York, causing a sensation. It was the first time the American public viewed ghastly images of dead soldiers.

This eloquently written passage in The New York Times on Oct. 20, 1862, captured the scene.

"Mr. Brady has done something to bring home to us that terrible reality and earnestness of war," a reporter whose name is lost to history wrote. "If he has not brought bodies and laid them in our door-yards and along the streets, he has done something very like it. At the door of his gallery hangs a little placard 'The Dead of Antietam'. Crowds of people are constantly going up the stairs; follow them ... there is a terrible fascination about it that draws one near these pictures, and makes you loath to leave them. You will see hushed, reverend groups standing around these weird copies of carnage, bending down to look in the pale faces of the dead, chained by the strange spell that dwells in dead men's eyes."

Just another reminder, too, that war is hell.

John Clark, who grew up in rural Ida Township in Michigan, was listed in the 1860 U.S. census.
His father, Thomas, was farmer. He had two other siblings: Edward and Ellen. His mother

was named Lovonia. (CLICK IMAGE TO ENLARGE)