tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50347918902017770992024-03-18T09:00:33.318-04:00The Public "I"HISTORY IN CONTEXT
Every DayKimit Mustonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03809428003905885379noreply@blogger.comBlogger3980125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5034791890201777099.post-82953482390438447822024-03-18T09:00:00.005-04:002024-03-18T09:00:00.351-04:00ET TU Part Two alea<p> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguHmSbQc0dNDFHOFl8Go_KnVcRUJqJr5SBDcGfa2F5InJym8-mWOVMihqrsww9dlXHFoQtaPzRZda3NNhyphenhyphenHDC-Jshbs6E2-CP3v9-pNbZoPhOOSpfHa2KblJ6ilnMb0upt6e4ZG4nsZXE8/s1600/Et+Tu++55.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="358" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguHmSbQc0dNDFHOFl8Go_KnVcRUJqJr5SBDcGfa2F5InJym8-mWOVMihqrsww9dlXHFoQtaPzRZda3NNhyphenhyphenHDC-Jshbs6E2-CP3v9-pNbZoPhOOSpfHa2KblJ6ilnMb0upt6e4ZG4nsZXE8/s640/Et+Tu++55.jpg" width="640" /></a></p><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I have no doubt there were spies in Ravenna on 11 January, 29 BCE. There are always spies in border towns. And traveling north out of Roman territory, the first town you reached in Cisalpine Gaul was the little fishing village of Ravenna, a quarter way down the western boot of Italy. A man could be a dictator here. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgksfgtJg02MCN5iKQTsk6oX6wFXoKjTdJ7dm2yTJzooV6wmDkegxDSUSHfilqGiWGmknMjyM_Y7Ul1q_WJAllkcVfjzf7CRTPivaF-FSd-anWjz3OBbBQrZkRz0iIAkuqPdafNreAtXb8buUmzsu-RXm_FjOGkgwtSa7X7fU9CtFsQC0ybmwFzd8U22A/s602/AA%20025%20(2).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="465" data-original-width="602" height="494" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgksfgtJg02MCN5iKQTsk6oX6wFXoKjTdJ7dm2yTJzooV6wmDkegxDSUSHfilqGiWGmknMjyM_Y7Ul1q_WJAllkcVfjzf7CRTPivaF-FSd-anWjz3OBbBQrZkRz0iIAkuqPdafNreAtXb8buUmzsu-RXm_FjOGkgwtSa7X7fU9CtFsQC0ybmwFzd8U22A/w640-h494/AA%20025%20(2).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">But just fifteen miles to the south in Ariminum, he would command no soldiers. He would be governed by the politicians 200 miles to the southwest, in the self described center of the civilized world, in Rome. And the man the spies from Rome were watching this winter day was the governor of both CisAlpine and TransAlpine Gaul - Julius Caesar.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmqOGwAYX5IdKGdUinkcQJvcDtHXF0MpP-3g-j3zSV8-LrP1-Z8qa00Qu0hifGVfE45DgMIinlW2e044vswjvFgAKhvDOdEqQ0pYB-50bIG_hbE266hz4t8Nyu-S-H8akiXVbTwrKtr1xv/s1600/March+16.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1057" data-original-width="1600" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmqOGwAYX5IdKGdUinkcQJvcDtHXF0MpP-3g-j3zSV8-LrP1-Z8qa00Qu0hifGVfE45DgMIinlW2e044vswjvFgAKhvDOdEqQ0pYB-50bIG_hbE266hz4t8Nyu-S-H8akiXVbTwrKtr1xv/s640/March+16.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div>Caesar's stated reason for being in Ravenna was to check up on his investment in a gladiator's school (above). That was logical - given that the tens of thousands of slaves Caesar had captured in his conquest of TransAlpine Gaul (i.e. France) and during his recent invasion of Britain. Those human beings now had be converted into cash. Laborers and house servants could quickly be sold, but Gladiators always sold at a premium. So, of course, Caesar was here to inspect the construction of his Gladiator School, and to witness a display of his gladiators in training. Then, after a light lunch, Caesar went to the baths - another public appearance for a Roman politician.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-IpnN2l8cIXVgkO1x4p4nsPDFIFOEjlnNOxVVgF73XW2YHOsgZq5TQ6XEHJbbEarN7t15LvKy8XKWtbJvbFaL0_2m7vTIxT3bVoukyvsYtwmoR8bUxlEoBdeeMHZZQk4dCLTPYHmrmswW/s1600/March+15.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="233" data-original-width="360" height="414" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-IpnN2l8cIXVgkO1x4p4nsPDFIFOEjlnNOxVVgF73XW2YHOsgZq5TQ6XEHJbbEarN7t15LvKy8XKWtbJvbFaL0_2m7vTIxT3bVoukyvsYtwmoR8bUxlEoBdeeMHZZQk4dCLTPYHmrmswW/s640/March+15.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div>And in the evening he sat down for a banquet, the kind of thing public officials are still expected to do. And, according to Plutarch, as the sun set, “...he left the company, having desired them to make merry till his return, which they would not have long to wait for." It was enough to lull most spies to sleep. But the Romans were about to learn what the Gauls had learned before them - if you want to know what Caesar is about to do, you did not watch Caesar. You watch his troops.</div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjR3ahfBK-bLLvz_XsC3otjMGOUTwCz2KKoNwvZv36ExLOBeP8t-FCo-Nvg8AXpDrD1wub7IaANhD92eAOBiuQmOyLAPMEBZ3nrmYX8-acaR0BKt8EY4QZScx5a_lib3MSzfJq-3RL2fsq/s1600/March+22.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1113" data-original-width="800" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjR3ahfBK-bLLvz_XsC3otjMGOUTwCz2KKoNwvZv36ExLOBeP8t-FCo-Nvg8AXpDrD1wub7IaANhD92eAOBiuQmOyLAPMEBZ3nrmYX8-acaR0BKt8EY4QZScx5a_lib3MSzfJq-3RL2fsq/s640/March+22.jpg" width="460" /></a></div><div>Three years earlier, in December of 53 B.C., a member of the ruling First Triumvirate, the primary ally of Caesar, Crassus (above), a had been killed in Parthia. At about the same time another Caesar supporter, Tribune Publious Clodius Pulcher, had been killed in a staged brawl – something which had become common in the dying Roman Republic. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9-feZUxHptetR9wVd4QrbRzW6brSjptj64tyokokj_IFE_R7bEQ3MhhxvOxZID9UmDL4_p1rpm4C2OIDFrSpF99TuEH2DPp3pd2OvmHiwzlc4hndjBm0TZdAYprY_FYrfOtJJaoHAdqs2/s1600/March+30.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1064" data-original-width="1600" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9-feZUxHptetR9wVd4QrbRzW6brSjptj64tyokokj_IFE_R7bEQ3MhhxvOxZID9UmDL4_p1rpm4C2OIDFrSpF99TuEH2DPp3pd2OvmHiwzlc4hndjBm0TZdAYprY_FYrfOtJJaoHAdqs2/s640/March+30.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div>The Tribune's angry supporters had built Plucher's funeral pyre in the Senate House, which resulted in the Senate House burning down. The Senate aristocrats used this act of vandalism as justification to elect the second member of the Triumvirate, Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus (above), as Sole Counsel, with powers to put down what was described as an insurrection. When some nervous Senators hinted that there were few soldiers in Rome to protect them, Pompey reassured the nervous Nellies, “I have only to stomp my foot to raise an army” And while he began to arrest Caesar's supporters, on 7 January<span style="font-size: 13.3333px;">, </span> 49 B.C.E., the Senate voted to order Caesar to disband his own legions and return to Rome for trial. That law was vetoed by the two Tribunes who were were still loyal to Caesar, Mark Antony and Quintus Cassius Longinus. They were promptly driven out of the Rome at sword point.</div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWwO6yZkmoJWb_0SNrjxzXPkdkEwL-_D8qQP3x5WNH_x4LkGI2SeKLRtXYr1h1nUqItxntS157kt_INyUFo7VqxETy2Bv7nMRVvejD84xOWAUo6t6IZu3_Yh2jCt88TLQ5Sn0WGJQ2VVeR/s1600/March+25.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWwO6yZkmoJWb_0SNrjxzXPkdkEwL-_D8qQP3x5WNH_x4LkGI2SeKLRtXYr1h1nUqItxntS157kt_INyUFo7VqxETy2Bv7nMRVvejD84xOWAUo6t6IZu3_Yh2jCt88TLQ5Sn0WGJQ2VVeR/s640/March+25.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div>Caesar (above), was just across the border, in CisAlpine Gaul. When informed of the Senate's move against him, he offered a compromise. He was willing to give up command of his army and return to Rome, if Pompey gave up his post as Sole Counsel. Caesar also requested the Senate allow him to stand for re-election as Counsel while he was still in Gaul, with, presumably, Pompey standing for re-election as co-Counsel at the same time. It seemed a fair compromise. If elected both men would have immunity from prosecution in the courts, and would jointly rule the city of Rome for a year. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwgbfRBSy8sBrcSju6gaW2O1OJcIgCmEXfA6EzFLcTAfDU1-O5k9qAsIfAhzd-4wTHkF1dMNXK5QDo2SO5f0kMHlGLuqs9FxkMtoE3s9iNW4pfVdOCKmHcPqGojeUtiTxdq2fHFHKu3mqD/s1600/March+19.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1066" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwgbfRBSy8sBrcSju6gaW2O1OJcIgCmEXfA6EzFLcTAfDU1-O5k9qAsIfAhzd-4wTHkF1dMNXK5QDo2SO5f0kMHlGLuqs9FxkMtoE3s9iNW4pfVdOCKmHcPqGojeUtiTxdq2fHFHKu3mqD/s640/March+19.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div>Pompey and the aristocrats in the Senate rejected the deal out of hand. Caesar's ten year term as Governor of both Gauls was about to run out, and as soon as he was no longer legally protected by his legions, the Senate could deal with him. So Caesar's enemies in the Senate thought they could afford to wait and watch</div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDwTnllL2ibbbLYydlEqdpgJACFa29vgl5CtPAap1cZ9RRRuJF-8R1yr5uLEihkiu_eiy2O3Nl9NiGjHdslFF9LyN4zvBmQd9QDrZesDr2QBpzO61Ql_6EDLFq1csoEH9N7oX6JTYPkhDK/s1600/Et+Tu++46.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDwTnllL2ibbbLYydlEqdpgJACFa29vgl5CtPAap1cZ9RRRuJF-8R1yr5uLEihkiu_eiy2O3Nl9NiGjHdslFF9LyN4zvBmQd9QDrZesDr2QBpzO61Ql_6EDLFq1csoEH9N7oX6JTYPkhDK/s640/Et+Tu++46.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Caesar could not, and did not. His 6,000 veterans of the 12th legion had been in winter barracks near present day port of Trieste, Serbia, at the head of the Adriatic. Early in January, before the Senate had even rejected his compromise, Caesar had ordered these men to sail for Ravenna. The advance elements had arrived at the little fishing village a week later. And on the afternoon of the 11 January, 5,000 infantry and 300 cavalry marched out of the “Rimi” gate, headed south.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHSFEzPrkGCb8dfBQ8wdxV1uwLh9jCiNhGrDITMWukG6gZxtzXApT9stYy2V4AvEnVj9SrUgnfr7piH_1UlsH2R8weHuScHCcWC0qxVnAF1LNsKIujlfV_GO8lzeHbPLqgpzRlMalhz0sW/s1600/Et+Tu++22.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="459" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHSFEzPrkGCb8dfBQ8wdxV1uwLh9jCiNhGrDITMWukG6gZxtzXApT9stYy2V4AvEnVj9SrUgnfr7piH_1UlsH2R8weHuScHCcWC0qxVnAF1LNsKIujlfV_GO8lzeHbPLqgpzRlMalhz0sW/s640/Et+Tu++22.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">After dusk, having slipped out on his dinner party, Caesar made his way on foot to a mill on the outskirts of the Ravinna. Here his aides had a hired carriages, which were waiting for Caesar. Pulled by four mules he followed a back road across the surrounding marshes. In the dark he got lost, and his carriage got stuck in the mud. Dawn found the great Caesar on foot, asking for help from a lowly farmer. By mid morning he had joined his men, on the banks of the River Rubicon (or the red river),<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div>the traditional northern border of Rome. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3dEKTt3RkK2HPbIA22pLCls9e2e5FPA20mGfvCLN2H5lFxOeOY5fp8jTEWPkmFDav3Tp9Y-PNS0RiXHkFZj7ZAeXe9zoU3KQVGlshYHpHT9nu43KgYF8F3ZszTpfAWcg6B7qNpDBLdq99/s1600/March+35.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3dEKTt3RkK2HPbIA22pLCls9e2e5FPA20mGfvCLN2H5lFxOeOY5fp8jTEWPkmFDav3Tp9Y-PNS0RiXHkFZj7ZAeXe9zoU3KQVGlshYHpHT9nu43KgYF8F3ZszTpfAWcg6B7qNpDBLdq99/s640/March+35.jpg" width="640" /></a></div></div><div>Beyond, in the village of Rimi, was the end of the 200 year old great “Northern Road”, the Via Flaminia (above), which wound its way across the Apennines, the central mountain spine of Italy, through narrow gouges and bridging rushing torrents, to the Field of Mars, then through the Flaminia gate in the city's walls, right to the base of Capitoline Hill, the central citadel of Rome itself. Crossing this border at the head of an army had been forbidden for a Roman general for two hundred years. Crossing this border would brand Caesar and his soldiers as outlaws, subject to execution by any citizen at any time. So this called for a bit of theatre.</div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipy81G9cHo5bS_if0QZsvvnD_kt0ct77stuwwJeWzuc9Zfrz_MJTs101mJ3QulbAPGrYEUsCwfkXaL5Tq_s1nTYD-ZI1i7Otx8bRcdQ6I6WQCuIli6p08pB-chp1l0O_FyIsdtEk7azLKm/s1600/Et+Tu++47.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipy81G9cHo5bS_if0QZsvvnD_kt0ct77stuwwJeWzuc9Zfrz_MJTs101mJ3QulbAPGrYEUsCwfkXaL5Tq_s1nTYD-ZI1i7Otx8bRcdQ6I6WQCuIli6p08pB-chp1l0O_FyIsdtEk7azLKm/s640/Et+Tu++47.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The veterans of the 12<sup>th</sup> legion had followed Caesar from conquest to triumph across Gaul, had even crossed the Rhine and invaded Germania. But this was something different, this was an assault on the Senatus, Populusque, Romanus - the Senate and the People of Rome, symbolized by the S-P-Q-R atop every banner the soldiers followed, on the very coins they were paid with. Nervously the legionaries awaited the stirring speech they expected Caesar to give before asking them to commit an act of treason.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXujVvu9S6w2fbjPX8CoquUuJIapGa67dVdDXzIjnCkBCWrJYlNsPu7yMJHYp9t4R_QYMt0mmi-eHJZvpJqURMQZmkM2HE07HFb4QMjqRkG9l2NqTK3kwYd_6NF32edeDcUuoC54hZYBmS/s1600/March+33.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXujVvu9S6w2fbjPX8CoquUuJIapGa67dVdDXzIjnCkBCWrJYlNsPu7yMJHYp9t4R_QYMt0mmi-eHJZvpJqURMQZmkM2HE07HFb4QMjqRkG9l2NqTK3kwYd_6NF32edeDcUuoC54hZYBmS/s640/March+33.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div>Instead, a common soldier suddenly grabbed a trumpet from one of the musicians, raced across the shallow stream blowing “the advance”. Caesar turned to his officers, and said, “We can still retreat. But once we pass this little bridge, there is nothing left but to fight..” Then he turned toward the bridge, and called out, “Let us go where the omens of the Gods and the crimes of our enemies summon us” As he crossed the stream himself, he is supposed to have said, almost to himself, "Alea iacta est”, the Latin phrase usually translated as “The die is now cast!”</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmK0wl-Y-qyAQb85y9lF700E4gyFBihzlggrtghZ5_iJEGrMGnbN9JsxY1LN0CXO2lwxRuYnCbTscAXo_vcwuDhgX4QORfRuWTtwn5vOAR6z7fOWQ8t7IdqeMjlw7qzpuwf9qx6SyrIky1/s1600/March+34.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="675" data-original-width="1200" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmK0wl-Y-qyAQb85y9lF700E4gyFBihzlggrtghZ5_iJEGrMGnbN9JsxY1LN0CXO2lwxRuYnCbTscAXo_vcwuDhgX4QORfRuWTtwn5vOAR6z7fOWQ8t7IdqeMjlw7qzpuwf9qx6SyrIky1/s640/March+34.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div>He did not look over his shoulder. He knew his men were following him.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHeHMQdVxnK0hr8VWBvnahaj0267Bk4ZSHszSY5CSRhtgqenfjFJa1haTT6qfB9k7KHYtDs1Ph-75jsUDnuUIslVnJtefnxUtSXWKbAPtRLHBOOWEu1zdosvCr2kFvTUj25WsVy4evkpRb/s1600/March+24.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="854" data-original-width="1280" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHeHMQdVxnK0hr8VWBvnahaj0267Bk4ZSHszSY5CSRhtgqenfjFJa1haTT6qfB9k7KHYtDs1Ph-75jsUDnuUIslVnJtefnxUtSXWKbAPtRLHBOOWEu1zdosvCr2kFvTUj25WsVy4evkpRb/s640/March+24.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div>On the southern shore waited Mark Anthony and Cassius Longinus, physical evidence of the arrogance of the Senate. Here Caesar drew the troops into a square, tore his robes in a show of humility, and led the soldiers in a personal pledge of fidelity to himself, to Caesar. The Roman Republic was now dead. The only thing required was to bury it. According to Suetonius, his legion now “marched so fast the rest of the way that he reached Ariminum before morning and took it.”</div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSCjh3cF1b-CfuWfOoG-RVsZzV4wCsNL3DMuef8ivylvqZ4C_3xbHEeTKYLDPUVB1he91doL3eNE9DkdoQe8rkcTmCGpc23Kdn21uYnbYBt2pkZyF4hyphenhyphenCGGZVYNZA-nbpOo4OckGFy4VQS/s1600/Et+Tu++38.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSCjh3cF1b-CfuWfOoG-RVsZzV4wCsNL3DMuef8ivylvqZ4C_3xbHEeTKYLDPUVB1he91doL3eNE9DkdoQe8rkcTmCGpc23Kdn21uYnbYBt2pkZyF4hyphenhyphenCGGZVYNZA-nbpOo4OckGFy4VQS/s640/Et+Tu++38.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Rome was electrified by the news. And it quickly became clear that the Senate's arrogance had turned Caesar's march down the Via Flaminia into a triumphal parade. So great was the frustration with the Senate that city after city threw their gates open to Caesar. Forces sent to stop him, went over to his side.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXiRyMJDAesVh71PyzWdTT1t8iRGghRivEluWMPyPb-iEeHuEdMoS8oErzXCUuZiyp_AfDsnHiNFVU8aT-OGgWj4egROktvNLUUH_iKVsoxtYX4qJyMlq98cLwbd4NBOAfOkPgF9bRAtaR/s1600/March+31.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXiRyMJDAesVh71PyzWdTT1t8iRGghRivEluWMPyPb-iEeHuEdMoS8oErzXCUuZiyp_AfDsnHiNFVU8aT-OGgWj4egROktvNLUUH_iKVsoxtYX4qJyMlq98cLwbd4NBOAfOkPgF9bRAtaR/s640/March+31.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div>Senator Favonius suggested it was high time that Pompey (above) stomped his foot. But Pompey's own legions were in Spain. The city had raised two legions and was assembling a third, but they were new recruits, and Pompey was not interested in matching them against Caesar's veterans from Gaul. Pompey did not increase his popularity when he informed the aristocratic members of the Senate that they should get out of town. Many denounced Pompey as a coward. But they still followed Pompey and their fellow aristocrats when they grabbed their wealth, and ran for Brundisium, the traditional exit port at the heel of the Italian boot. In their haste they left behind the treasury of Rome, the horde of gold and silver looted from Carthage, stolen from Egypt, taxed from Spain and Macedonia. It was the first place Caesar went, when he got to town.</div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRTth-PEfvguWl-DQ8e75xgOcZDOhhr3laizJW-O6ocimjNzxUYMZciXhQ6iskz6P22O-Zg1JqcRWbAGdFkU9VJPc72knjhGxi3b8nmE695OpoNtYZr_Muw75NkomeY6uHCtXkBig-YnPx/s1600/Et+Tu++54.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="358" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRTth-PEfvguWl-DQ8e75xgOcZDOhhr3laizJW-O6ocimjNzxUYMZciXhQ6iskz6P22O-Zg1JqcRWbAGdFkU9VJPc72knjhGxi3b8nmE695OpoNtYZr_Muw75NkomeY6uHCtXkBig-YnPx/s640/Et+Tu++54.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">They couldn't find the keys to the vaults. Caesar sent for locksmiths. A Tribune reminded Caesar he was violating the law. Caesar suggested, “If what I do displeases you, leave.” The doors were forced open, and Caesar had enough money to pay his soldiers. But murder stepped through that door, right next to him.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwgRg2bC5rc7MIrE4V7KCAqIh2n0NA7jxUW3XWnwy0AjS-PvZE-XL3WNv6NlhsYOODqtG-ICVVfr15VH47tSi0wfM-ZS-Cox566Oc5cTGq9qb_3MXGxndiDwlkDIQbWDzaGnDBO71ezQn0/s1600/Et+Tu++98.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="316" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwgRg2bC5rc7MIrE4V7KCAqIh2n0NA7jxUW3XWnwy0AjS-PvZE-XL3WNv6NlhsYOODqtG-ICVVfr15VH47tSi0wfM-ZS-Cox566Oc5cTGq9qb_3MXGxndiDwlkDIQbWDzaGnDBO71ezQn0/s640/Et+Tu++98.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">- 30 -</span></div>Kimit Mustonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03809428003905885379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5034791890201777099.post-70612001997205025882024-03-17T09:00:00.006-04:002024-03-17T09:00:00.138-04:00ET TU Part One Velum surgit<p> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj7qDKKQ0FPGB6_WYaVH5GGQm_1_Mv2KK08r6_9JYI6tWazWJugRHBLEIkMdWktwCKuuNj7qN_znOJCpxoP92WhkGK3tKg9GjJl9zRXW5lpa3YWGJp5gVegz7qWIgdGCe46HFPgMpGFXN4VNFL3HCLzF0CV_fPBm7nBStlorqHLRhoKzDOvpgKLUbudmQ=s600" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="339" data-original-width="600" height="362" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj7qDKKQ0FPGB6_WYaVH5GGQm_1_Mv2KK08r6_9JYI6tWazWJugRHBLEIkMdWktwCKuuNj7qN_znOJCpxoP92WhkGK3tKg9GjJl9zRXW5lpa3YWGJp5gVegz7qWIgdGCe46HFPgMpGFXN4VNFL3HCLzF0CV_fPBm7nBStlorqHLRhoKzDOvpgKLUbudmQ=w640-h362" width="640" /></a></p><p>I believe the murder was set in motion far from the scene of the crime, in modern day Turkey, in a patch of desert about ten miles north of the border with Syria. In 53 B.C.E., this spot of what was then emptiness was called Carrhae (above), and in Roman history that name is synonymous with shame. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjAbvR7BSRFMQSSAGBgGaq4JVVldSxoM60IfIfr831Ju2GnIDKKrbIJmB9LI-iQboUFetTxB04l2k5Mz-9gv1uRO7Tn8m9n62NxKVr5CuLOfRLLmWRT62xCZTtfX6n0hYUKRgnB2Nk7guLnG10X6tIDFh1-DeZHE1kiXuM49r-PfwRkaIj6SZ4MSp7epw=s390" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="390" data-original-width="296" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjAbvR7BSRFMQSSAGBgGaq4JVVldSxoM60IfIfr831Ju2GnIDKKrbIJmB9LI-iQboUFetTxB04l2k5Mz-9gv1uRO7Tn8m9n62NxKVr5CuLOfRLLmWRT62xCZTtfX6n0hYUKRgnB2Nk7guLnG10X6tIDFh1-DeZHE1kiXuM49r-PfwRkaIj6SZ4MSp7epw=w486-h640" width="486" /></a></div><p>It was on the plain at Carrhae that 20,000 Legionaries died (above), and worse, 10,000 were captured, and even worse, it was here that the aristocrat’s aristocrat, the greedy bloodthirsty Marcus Licinius Crassus, was killed. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEilsXwOhsUUMy1jzX7Q5UXt6eqpTw8gZoDllwYbzPjV7DA8vQlSB_3biWXABH50nhDkYddOGJnRop_0-cBNGbZkpZAHUj-QANYXnIFW51wdJ7fvTPpAmnzVHqVHdKonitW1Jw9RFUmxeLCGWdlSB_Hdj0UESu97GXEIEYv5fzwnxaLVhJNjwEAzCDaG_w=s800" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="376" data-original-width="800" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEilsXwOhsUUMy1jzX7Q5UXt6eqpTw8gZoDllwYbzPjV7DA8vQlSB_3biWXABH50nhDkYddOGJnRop_0-cBNGbZkpZAHUj-QANYXnIFW51wdJ7fvTPpAmnzVHqVHdKonitW1Jw9RFUmxeLCGWdlSB_Hdj0UESu97GXEIEYv5fzwnxaLVhJNjwEAzCDaG_w=w640-h300" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Few who did not depend on Crassus for their financial security had reason to mourn his demise. But within ten years of his death, what was left of the Roman Republic would collapse, and the cause of democracy would be set back two thousand years – and all that occurred because Crassus got what he deserved. I would label all that the horrible unintended consequences of a good thing.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggnm3XV4b0jUqfYBKdJ218kwkgesq7pmN00cv9CYxhCq1yvcbrMY-HnqqgSa1TJaaDAlhk_dIGzVBXWOgJhlkgYl3d3wUJqxEYseV8XiIS1FCn2TezJKEaNU9SU6pEv6Xtez65bANWmgSr/s1600/Et+Tu++12.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggnm3XV4b0jUqfYBKdJ218kwkgesq7pmN00cv9CYxhCq1yvcbrMY-HnqqgSa1TJaaDAlhk_dIGzVBXWOgJhlkgYl3d3wUJqxEYseV8XiIS1FCn2TezJKEaNU9SU6pEv6Xtez65bANWmgSr/w491-h640/Et+Tu++12.jpg" width="491" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Marcus Licinius Crassus (above), the richest man in Rome, who also saw himself as a hero. He led the right wing at the battle of Coline Gate, which made Sulla dictator of Rome. He had defeated the slave armies of Spartacus, and lined the Appian Way with 6,000 crucified slaves. Then he had turned to running the finances of Sulla' s brutal regime. But now, at 60, he wanted to be a hero again. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjcYMzx1DAlP7I3DCeU50ck0w70eIEuUdNKZVG8EOZqdCE4Y1A3QKA3_6xiIYVgUdsfLBEL3EMnBRi6LZHd3ftBXQqr2iumPTGp_ValdGaYfuKS4LG5w-Da1xBfwhccKC09Cr-DGrk6_DJVRVHzGQgeqo5vZz-BQ8FPL3B16GsC-qPKHZ-YlE1-yDAuyg=s652" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="366" data-original-width="652" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjcYMzx1DAlP7I3DCeU50ck0w70eIEuUdNKZVG8EOZqdCE4Y1A3QKA3_6xiIYVgUdsfLBEL3EMnBRi6LZHd3ftBXQqr2iumPTGp_ValdGaYfuKS4LG5w-Da1xBfwhccKC09Cr-DGrk6_DJVRVHzGQgeqo5vZz-BQ8FPL3B16GsC-qPKHZ-YlE1-yDAuyg=w640-h360" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">His plan to achieve this was to invade Parthia, the empire centered upon present day Iran. But age had not made Crassus more intellectually flexible or humble of spirit. When offered assistance from the King of Armenia, Crassus chose to keep all the plunder for himself.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgggOJDEm10MGawVcEXBCFIkjuLrsqoAUt3XghH3U29i8zLHfMjz6qXz8e6nKhN7vsJkAsvfoJ9OyLaijZsUWaHmVX_saiWvlKK6yxmkSkTfi6PbuynE4duhBoMIdmWxq5ZbpwqggyEtTQO/s1600/Et+Tu++11.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="498" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgggOJDEm10MGawVcEXBCFIkjuLrsqoAUt3XghH3U29i8zLHfMjz6qXz8e6nKhN7vsJkAsvfoJ9OyLaijZsUWaHmVX_saiWvlKK6yxmkSkTfi6PbuynE4duhBoMIdmWxq5ZbpwqggyEtTQO/w640-h498/Et+Tu++11.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">So, in the spring of 53 B.C., at the head of seven veteran legions and 8,000 cavalry commanded by his son, Publius, Crassus crossed the Euphrates river at Zeugma, and almost immediately started making mistakes. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEju7rcBoeLcMGjYV5OzvEpo4mwhLKYrSlUEA6ef4koEQKFEWtC_tHim3DfHIw0YcWpvOR5ehTsuXarlKHWEM9mUMArbQN9PykKxq_WULFz2O1VdM74QrfWgyZlOyYzE-DTiNegsRYhFi7cJtGb6FXYiMIgtregtmoGcHBsItKinGqwJD2oTVyYWPPMwug=s625" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="322" data-original-width="625" height="330" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEju7rcBoeLcMGjYV5OzvEpo4mwhLKYrSlUEA6ef4koEQKFEWtC_tHim3DfHIw0YcWpvOR5ehTsuXarlKHWEM9mUMArbQN9PykKxq_WULFz2O1VdM74QrfWgyZlOyYzE-DTiNegsRYhFi7cJtGb6FXYiMIgtregtmoGcHBsItKinGqwJD2oTVyYWPPMwug=w640-h330" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">He hired a guide who led him deep into a treeless desert near Carrhea (above), and then vanished. And once the legions were ankle deep in sand and desperately short of water, only then did the Parthian army appear - 10,000 cavalry armed with powerful bows.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuJsb-LYagJFS3dsjIjzKY7iXSfiPq5UXFM8G4a38ZUEFRJ4jnBuR4R6sRNYlpcHVNU7nfKH1WqDq3-bmv955YosICyyDus3QPkcAp6VCuS3kqCfUmPmKd3iDeaZ9uTAjifahCbeircijz/s1600/Et+Tu++08.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="544" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuJsb-LYagJFS3dsjIjzKY7iXSfiPq5UXFM8G4a38ZUEFRJ4jnBuR4R6sRNYlpcHVNU7nfKH1WqDq3-bmv955YosICyyDus3QPkcAp6VCuS3kqCfUmPmKd3iDeaZ9uTAjifahCbeircijz/w640-h544/Et+Tu++08.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Arrows showered upon the massed legions, wounding men and sapping moral. The Roman tactical response was to form the infantry into turtles (testudos) (above), closing ranks tightly, with the center ranks marching beneath their shields, and the soldiers on the edges presenting the enemy with a moving wall. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhswQNgRX37LiyUbtsBIYiXwMEnoOteSko7HCvoaQ2nxSXI_tLobHOC19cXNuLh_9JlvBkZQY7oRNXGImaaRc6idI9CoWanoAncSyIXr8WUGxjkkcY7R3OccpSmZVPaqJDNuwUS0H-H2xnDDIpxYUpGwY8_ongg1xS9uPd7oV1AtTqWgwsS5dHcomOXgQ=s800" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="419" data-original-width="800" height="336" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhswQNgRX37LiyUbtsBIYiXwMEnoOteSko7HCvoaQ2nxSXI_tLobHOC19cXNuLh_9JlvBkZQY7oRNXGImaaRc6idI9CoWanoAncSyIXr8WUGxjkkcY7R3OccpSmZVPaqJDNuwUS0H-H2xnDDIpxYUpGwY8_ongg1xS9uPd7oV1AtTqWgwsS5dHcomOXgQ=w640-h336" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">But so strong were the Parthian bows that some arrows even penetrated the turtle's shell. It went on for hours. The turtles could only march in a straight line, and not very quickly under a baking desert sun. Eventually, reasoned Crassus, the Parthian bowmen would run out of arrows. But then he spotted large camel trains approaching, each dromedary carrying a fresh supply of arrows.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEA5P8W1ZZ-mckbXmlP36Qbl7mnfUDt-1KJgw42BsEVXOJ2jUiikaHVAKKVUHofY0qjFkIahF8yVP2roAdxBCuHGGprg04t8-VwVoKGzB7NcHP9GgOCm_J6zzA1vwxzch5yxbp1vMrsplq/s1600/Et+Tu++15.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEA5P8W1ZZ-mckbXmlP36Qbl7mnfUDt-1KJgw42BsEVXOJ2jUiikaHVAKKVUHofY0qjFkIahF8yVP2roAdxBCuHGGprg04t8-VwVoKGzB7NcHP9GgOCm_J6zzA1vwxzch5yxbp1vMrsplq/w488-h640/Et+Tu++15.jpg" width="488" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">In desperation Publius's cavalry charged the camels, but the Parthian's proved adept at shooting while retreating - the famous Parthian shot (above), the sting in the scorpion's tail. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgucCKkH7PXFQSvOhoi5fomckJajqcMLJL0ngC4RR_Yw2CsQH3xeNtdy-tBLgCX1T1Ba9Z7L8W9Q-nzc9yOhtpZoHghRzXPAG7LIsyDf8Vnc_FsmfZZ5IuO5oWRw3R4mPOq18yTfrpSbR-Lgxow1NkNEXQ_kWjeXeC4haMESBhDjtOPxfDvLs6ImL8D5Q=s936" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="745" data-original-width="936" height="510" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgucCKkH7PXFQSvOhoi5fomckJajqcMLJL0ngC4RR_Yw2CsQH3xeNtdy-tBLgCX1T1Ba9Z7L8W9Q-nzc9yOhtpZoHghRzXPAG7LIsyDf8Vnc_FsmfZZ5IuO5oWRw3R4mPOq18yTfrpSbR-Lgxow1NkNEXQ_kWjeXeC4haMESBhDjtOPxfDvLs6ImL8D5Q=w640-h510" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Publius was killed and his cavalry scattered. The Parthians closed in again on the turtles and the arrows continued to shower down, as did the merciless heat. Eventually Crassus was forced to retreat into the village of Carrhea. After a night without water his officers forced Crassus to parlay with the Parthian commander. The meeting was a disaster. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjiCt8fAoYlb-akg-Gg1PU3MDcTO-HU5k14mMhWWWMuHyALxcgnnG41p8FuZ8BU-3LQCIxpWe0OIOpZpZ8SU5ckyWlEf9JSIufgkKVDJN7t36f0iP1iIMqxh479Wf0gNHZiZxm54_e6MjzqYFdzpE8T-gCGCyG6uIQ3zPiYiLOgLAcCXol0-GgEWIa1Lw=s538" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="524" data-original-width="538" height="624" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjiCt8fAoYlb-akg-Gg1PU3MDcTO-HU5k14mMhWWWMuHyALxcgnnG41p8FuZ8BU-3LQCIxpWe0OIOpZpZ8SU5ckyWlEf9JSIufgkKVDJN7t36f0iP1iIMqxh479Wf0gNHZiZxm54_e6MjzqYFdzpE8T-gCGCyG6uIQ3zPiYiLOgLAcCXol0-GgEWIa1Lw=w640-h624" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The deaf Crassus perceived an insult in some Parthian translation, and moved to remount his horse. A Parthian officer grabbed the horses' bridle. A proud Roman officer pulled his gladius to defend his commander's honor, and the Parthian generals slaughtered the Roman officers, including Marcus Licinius Crassus. After that, the Parthians fell upon the leaderless legions, and effectively wiped them out.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjRNmBLCE5HW2Rb6qREGZQm2c6S_dBxLQJpw4eUs-VBQNypRNJo_S5jYAifjnizo5x9n0JYf2RoecBlshe2RqqLsZw4pTXvtRbPi6lynOIJbUvSX8blE5sIQLWKhBHGcAgb1Q2MEgkQRIq3c5emYX240BBKym5zhl2535PPaSmrZnrZEYFWWEwxJ6QHKA=s1397" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1397" data-original-width="1292" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjRNmBLCE5HW2Rb6qREGZQm2c6S_dBxLQJpw4eUs-VBQNypRNJo_S5jYAifjnizo5x9n0JYf2RoecBlshe2RqqLsZw4pTXvtRbPi6lynOIJbUvSX8blE5sIQLWKhBHGcAgb1Q2MEgkQRIq3c5emYX240BBKym5zhl2535PPaSmrZnrZEYFWWEwxJ6QHKA=w592-h640" width="592" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The legend is that after the slaughter, the Parthians poured molten gold into the severed head of the greedy Crassus. It sounds like a terrible waste of a precious metal, but then the war had been a terrible waste of seven irreplaceable Roman legions. But the two men in all the world who understood intuitively what a disaster Crassus' death really was for Rome, were his two greatest competitors.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBWl1d70gW3TAdoGmh3v-pAmQO5CuhwBzaa_DTFUX40Q2Swmsk1pppi4yekzkaPqqViZSzdvOZ4P7icJMGK4Tv2wVu13r_ZlDEa2JGnbVcAcHUmCueF1BYryTOl3CY-Rdgajqb8CVMFEoU/s1600/Et+TU++04.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBWl1d70gW3TAdoGmh3v-pAmQO5CuhwBzaa_DTFUX40Q2Swmsk1pppi4yekzkaPqqViZSzdvOZ4P7icJMGK4Tv2wVu13r_ZlDEa2JGnbVcAcHUmCueF1BYryTOl3CY-Rdgajqb8CVMFEoU/w427-h640/Et+TU++04.jpg" width="427" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The sardonic Sulla had nicknamed Gnaeus Pompeius, as Pompey the Great (above). But Sulla had meant it as a joke - whatever else he was, Sulla was a ruthless judge of character. Sent by Sulla to secure the Roman grain supplies in Sicily, the young Pompey had earned another nickname, 'the adolescent butcher'. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEii2BXHQVx8GVgHV-S2EcRGuQZUWIYy87DZzUwEK27QeD_xLW-R8p3T6cVmvsdeaugvBqKY5o1RiqGoXGucPhGMqi_SorzhY-7NGagoD67H94GxFDJMQF2HZ6bfkEhIV3u4yjVHNGnjE6Jr-GFE9gVQ3D0MZC8eNp5EHr46jPE3O3uHlkFNM16oIt3gyQ=s1520" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1069" data-original-width="1520" height="450" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEii2BXHQVx8GVgHV-S2EcRGuQZUWIYy87DZzUwEK27QeD_xLW-R8p3T6cVmvsdeaugvBqKY5o1RiqGoXGucPhGMqi_SorzhY-7NGagoD67H94GxFDJMQF2HZ6bfkEhIV3u4yjVHNGnjE6Jr-GFE9gVQ3D0MZC8eNp5EHr46jPE3O3uHlkFNM16oIt3gyQ=w640-h450" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">When the citizens of one small Sicilian village argued his attack upon them was illegal, Pompey responded bluntly, “Stop quoting laws. We carry weapons!” Returning home, Pompey demanded a triumphal parade, usually reserved for military victories. After Sulla's death, the Senate dispatched Pompey to crush a rebellious general. Pompey bribed one of the rebel officers to kill the general, and then eliminated the traitor. His justification was typically blunt. “A dead man cannot bite”. And he claimed another triumph. Sent to crush pirates who were raiding Roman grain fleets, Pompey bought them off, and again, claimed a triumph - Pompey Maximus, indeed.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc7mZPMA5Qdl01FdcLf4scOMBXYzuqWBwhrn9DrjzZf3k_t1yQvMFshlVZ0BCD8cuS49kdUq6Z9qwZO-uLHjyqh3W_rass4SZS4V5nTH_kpjygARV5jlROj5cksH44KLn90qL_waXY6kbU/s1600/Et+Tu++16.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="402" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc7mZPMA5Qdl01FdcLf4scOMBXYzuqWBwhrn9DrjzZf3k_t1yQvMFshlVZ0BCD8cuS49kdUq6Z9qwZO-uLHjyqh3W_rass4SZS4V5nTH_kpjygARV5jlROj5cksH44KLn90qL_waXY6kbU/w640-h402/Et+Tu++16.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">As the two richest and most ambitious men in Rome, Pompey and Crassus had initially cooperated to strengthen the tribuni plebis.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEic-CJ4wo6JPVkleYn3TD7n4I3kKcf_4Bdc6eQuD2DSQ49vgYzZReBjy-ekoGb3_NdNjB14sGXOsWX5KEA36xKEwUa4Q8vyi0F-rkqcjAkUS4pKAIKk4JkPYBduy_puXfjXp1d8QSjeVgnazHvmWif9SrLsXTJXk7PgVUh0y-wqPK5jheKV1_gaeRTqdA=s630" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="418" data-original-width="630" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEic-CJ4wo6JPVkleYn3TD7n4I3kKcf_4Bdc6eQuD2DSQ49vgYzZReBjy-ekoGb3_NdNjB14sGXOsWX5KEA36xKEwUa4Q8vyi0F-rkqcjAkUS4pKAIKk4JkPYBduy_puXfjXp1d8QSjeVgnazHvmWif9SrLsXTJXk7PgVUh0y-wqPK5jheKV1_gaeRTqdA=w640-h424" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">This was not out of some faith in the Senate, but to use the tribunes as a buffer between them. For four hundred years these 'Tribunes of the Plebs' had been a counter-balance to the aristocrats in the Senate. Elected by the whole male population, tribunes could not make laws, but they could veto any law passed by the Senate (above). Sulla had reduced the tribunes to a ceremonial post. But Pompey and Crassus, increasingly driven apart by suspicion, paranoia and envy, used the tribunes to prevent their opponent from enacting policies they did not like. And one of the men supported by Crassus for tribune of the people had been Gaius Julius Caesar.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg685EEkMYbhcvujAb3nKtTmcZqtqol_H60KV2-OXdURPOrbuIMNipfwL0cb9qL3Ojyt-QKgqrVIcH-KRQJMKD85X-K7IMRdw-mSiKJORIcPbxcodLeVd-ECt4AjzqsEjz0qM3SgNZOVAsN/s1600/Et+Tu++74.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg685EEkMYbhcvujAb3nKtTmcZqtqol_H60KV2-OXdURPOrbuIMNipfwL0cb9qL3Ojyt-QKgqrVIcH-KRQJMKD85X-K7IMRdw-mSiKJORIcPbxcodLeVd-ECt4AjzqsEjz0qM3SgNZOVAsN/w474-h640/Et+Tu++74.jpg" width="474" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Sulla had taken one look at the smart, ambitious young Caesar (above), and marked him down for elimination. Julius avoided Sulla's assassins by joining the army. Once Sulla died, Julius returned to Rome, where Crassus backed his election as a Tribune and then sent him to Spain. While there Caesar had defeated two small tribes. This earned him the right to a triumph. Instead, Caesar asked Crassus for help, meaning money, to run for Tribune of the people.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAttTJUm7iS2NJJm3WfhiGBBVvOBEcbpDwZSMrOu3crdmWsTrUOtmFOFitP8_PNGuhM7vpxVaOof09jc5NzrWVwCWqF6PAiqJHFb5M0vLNUB3OrqA_5Uj3vVtG81hKOK6vjpc_oyIcgq8N/s1600/Et+Tu++35.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="397" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAttTJUm7iS2NJJm3WfhiGBBVvOBEcbpDwZSMrOu3crdmWsTrUOtmFOFitP8_PNGuhM7vpxVaOof09jc5NzrWVwCWqF6PAiqJHFb5M0vLNUB3OrqA_5Uj3vVtG81hKOK6vjpc_oyIcgq8N/w640-h397/Et+Tu++35.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Romans were so afraid of someone wanting to rule over them as a king, that the Tribune term of office was just one year long, and there were two equal Tribunes elected each year. Each had the power of veto over any action by the other or the Senate. This was a system designed to ensure deadlock. As a result of the election in 60 B.C., Caesar (Crassus' man) was elected. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEisE0Rkku7q3aMpvIpckzEEHtheoGDLLnFJ8h5LHvO6fE3KWhZSJtWIKwbkH61uUjH8iZYA3mZDu705RjJTAQJNvxA1ThNVUZAWMeZ1IRwnoBgP81ISwqGdD4HmaUQCEo-3UAqIeSQ0kY5TrndXwWI61qVYoFpB0HrA6ANFvH9j3h33hOGsRUg0eTlrkA=s460" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="258" data-original-width="460" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEisE0Rkku7q3aMpvIpckzEEHtheoGDLLnFJ8h5LHvO6fE3KWhZSJtWIKwbkH61uUjH8iZYA3mZDu705RjJTAQJNvxA1ThNVUZAWMeZ1IRwnoBgP81ISwqGdD4HmaUQCEo-3UAqIeSQ0kY5TrndXwWI61qVYoFpB0HrA6ANFvH9j3h33hOGsRUg0eTlrkA=w640-h358" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">But the other consul elected that year, Marcus Calpurnius Bilbus , was Pompey's man, meaning every law Crassus backed, Bibulus vetoed, and every law Pompey pushed, Caesar vetoed. And it was Caesar’s political genius that he saw the way to use this deadlock to increase his own power.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiG7Ma6wngwK5-7Qkcz4CUbMhWKpTEcAVumuplSsYCYfKOegChzL1fIje4EQ1XUdSuR-aiRDyRqAKA0HA9SymG1BVNmIHYEoxa14JWBWoJgQSYo1DPXaDKlEM_6KA6GGdUdvLEitKsre9210BhWw9DhYXWSeMqhl8bGO3Y4awTIQeFhJBEu7rd4kGMjpA=s723" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="512" data-original-width="723" height="454" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiG7Ma6wngwK5-7Qkcz4CUbMhWKpTEcAVumuplSsYCYfKOegChzL1fIje4EQ1XUdSuR-aiRDyRqAKA0HA9SymG1BVNmIHYEoxa14JWBWoJgQSYo1DPXaDKlEM_6KA6GGdUdvLEitKsre9210BhWw9DhYXWSeMqhl8bGO3Y4awTIQeFhJBEu7rd4kGMjpA=w640-h454" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">In 59 B.C., Pompey pushed for a land reform act that would give farms to veterans of his legions . Bibulus tried to veto the bill, but thugs hired by Caesar dragged Bilbulus out of the forum, threatened him and dumped a dung bucket on his head. The shaken man withdrew from public life. Then quickly, Caesar moved to grant Pompey's veteran's equal lands. And that quickly power in Rome was changed, from a deadlocked confrontation between two men, into a more balanced government ruled by three - The First Triumvirate. As a reward for bringing peace between Crassus and Pompey, Caesar was appointed Governor of Trans-alpine Gaul, what today is France, for ten years.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY65RLGnxz_y7lFREeJRkc16evm7NlyLJea3_-paXARa0auY8z6nK10p35MnqazP1prVctHNrnD5LtxEfdBJSXJd2sWfJUy3M7LREZrpa2XmPXXHex_UNYNo75WVaqfEqbFQRBC3cKu1A0/s1600/Et+Tu++30.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="499" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY65RLGnxz_y7lFREeJRkc16evm7NlyLJea3_-paXARa0auY8z6nK10p35MnqazP1prVctHNrnD5LtxEfdBJSXJd2sWfJUy3M7LREZrpa2XmPXXHex_UNYNo75WVaqfEqbFQRBC3cKu1A0/w640-h499/Et+Tu++30.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Thus Caesar went to seek his future in conquering and plundering Gaul with four legions. Pompey, who left his legions in Spain, stayed in Rome to plunder the Republic. And the financier Crassus had turned eastward, to conquer and plunder Parthia with seven legions. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEifWFG-T8p0socAnP0-57asPvAQRqQklDsf0FbNb4YN7_3DSrYdGVhel8xZpy-AsX1EzdFnVXzfy9Aiq79aaO21PIB_mTZaI6TymRWlU8C4SAwkoqdoTrf9QDnZZSuDZ-hrsgKp3J3Hg1y1Mz6JAYELZsGeLRA711pKKXo4og-px5zQXtr11n1eJJOqkw=s4080" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4080" data-original-width="3008" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEifWFG-T8p0socAnP0-57asPvAQRqQklDsf0FbNb4YN7_3DSrYdGVhel8xZpy-AsX1EzdFnVXzfy9Aiq79aaO21PIB_mTZaI6TymRWlU8C4SAwkoqdoTrf9QDnZZSuDZ-hrsgKp3J3Hg1y1Mz6JAYELZsGeLRA711pKKXo4og-px5zQXtr11n1eJJOqkw=w472-h640" width="472" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">But in 53 B.C.E. Crassus (above) had gotten himself killed, and the Roman Republic, was abruptly reduced to a direct confrontation between two men. It was a contest which must result in the death of one of them, and the Republic.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuI5PpiUh5U5UJqVvyj5yvF3eepRzfLfV_hoHndpsNnp25m7ek9X8jmMRcILfgz8eBfJAUpxFfUNWNZ0HO1Sn-gnzzCaSh_eLwVc1zQNxgzFh69-dP0Z3dk_2WU2QmoMeJqcJPM_uG63Vn/s1600/Et+Tu++28.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuI5PpiUh5U5UJqVvyj5yvF3eepRzfLfV_hoHndpsNnp25m7ek9X8jmMRcILfgz8eBfJAUpxFfUNWNZ0HO1Sn-gnzzCaSh_eLwVc1zQNxgzFh69-dP0Z3dk_2WU2QmoMeJqcJPM_uG63Vn/w640-h424/Et+Tu++28.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">- 30 -</span></div>Kimit Mustonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03809428003905885379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5034791890201777099.post-72507790939620281772024-03-16T09:00:00.006-04:002024-03-16T09:00:00.133-04:00HUMBLE PI<p> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdI0EKa0OC6MWGAKyGi71pTFiWV5nhdvTzGmdfZXUCqsnwkyTluRvALZA5sIftg6KjAnXgyDc2rosOWC9k29wTsaYOrUIg-fXA3p8HmGd9FzyBi-lPMPYAqm4YQzCzV0htpe2DoBWhhXk/s1600-h/The+Scream.jpg" style="color: #80c9ff; font-family: "trebuchet ms", trebuchet, verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="480" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdI0EKa0OC6MWGAKyGi71pTFiWV5nhdvTzGmdfZXUCqsnwkyTluRvALZA5sIftg6KjAnXgyDc2rosOWC9k29wTsaYOrUIg-fXA3p8HmGd9FzyBi-lPMPYAqm4YQzCzV0htpe2DoBWhhXk/s640/The+Scream.jpg" style="border-width: 0px;" width="640" /></a></p><span style="background-color: #f6f6f6; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I suspect the problem begins with the oft quoted but shockingly misunderstood phrase, “pi are squared.” It is a fact that you cannot perfectly square a circle. Which is comforting for those of us who are math-impaired. Seems obvious. Seems logical. But prove it.</span><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjzddLFlSBe8E1lG1MTZG0uGUw7Bymm59XK1r7QYk-CepXc7qtyTPyTC5hrjkSHJMqJbNxnTDqB2ZxbXLDcExtm8plAu2dOPn772KaidqpM5ONkVZ1Wc4kQRwdpLZnr96Td9gaQ6tkuZd7dK9ud5MwK3yaCE5sjVf_ITqwb81182r1EcurDKWSu2Si3ZQ=s400" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="376" data-original-width="400" height="602" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjzddLFlSBe8E1lG1MTZG0uGUw7Bymm59XK1r7QYk-CepXc7qtyTPyTC5hrjkSHJMqJbNxnTDqB2ZxbXLDcExtm8plAu2dOPn772KaidqpM5ONkVZ1Wc4kQRwdpLZnr96Td9gaQ6tkuZd7dK9ud5MwK3yaCE5sjVf_ITqwb81182r1EcurDKWSu2Si3ZQ=w640-h602" width="640" /></a></div>You can, but you have to use math. And in proving it you stumble across something very odd. There is a constant mathematical relationship between <span style="background-color: #f6f6f6; font-family: times, "times new roman", serif;">the length of the line forming a circle, divided by the distance across that same circle. And this relationship, no matter how large or small the circle, always works out to be 3.141592653589793238…etcetera, etcetera, ad infinitas, add infelicitous, and never ever repeating. This makes Pi an irrational number, which is confusing again because I find all numbers irrational, even on Pi day.</span></div><div><div style="background-color: #f6f6f6; font-family: "trebuchet ms", trebuchet, verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNxSBvtNtPSl4gY00MY18RCOUzZXvLojPbIBPMxMgo7W7vJT2YHlfp0OvcyPut1C9EgsV2tGZdJ03QnX2yKJNouF2OvZe2XvT-4ClYIsBwsIx2j3ezWV-3GrK4M4NEmS0OxplokOPABnw/s1600-h/Pi+29.jpg" style="color: #80c9ff; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="332" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNxSBvtNtPSl4gY00MY18RCOUzZXvLojPbIBPMxMgo7W7vJT2YHlfp0OvcyPut1C9EgsV2tGZdJ03QnX2yKJNouF2OvZe2XvT-4ClYIsBwsIx2j3ezWV-3GrK4M4NEmS0OxplokOPABnw/s640/Pi+29.jpg" style="border-width: 0px;" width="640" /></a></div><div style="background-color: #f6f6f6;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">To express the problem in another way, </span><span style="font-family: times, "times new roman", serif;"> A(rea) of a circle equals the radius of the circle squared. But you see... </span></div><div style="background-color: #f6f6f6; font-family: "trebuchet ms", trebuchet, verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIX_SXoESre1WFAIpuQZqQtqoum_nh1y9wz9MTqv_mYit9RfWDg3pyLlhG9pbopE59z55unsppL0Hfc0Wv1wtqxPZNUlOH-aX8MUQo9OUqo5VervLfAXpxbCqOtiS0-_irfRhXDixb4J4/s1600-h/Pi+25.png" style="color: #80c9ff; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIX_SXoESre1WFAIpuQZqQtqoum_nh1y9wz9MTqv_mYit9RfWDg3pyLlhG9pbopE59z55unsppL0Hfc0Wv1wtqxPZNUlOH-aX8MUQo9OUqo5VervLfAXpxbCqOtiS0-_irfRhXDixb4J4/s640/Pi+25.png" style="border-width: 0px;" width="640" /></a></div><span style="background-color: #f6f6f6; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">...you can never turn a circle into a square of the exact same size. Close, but never exactly the same size. And it doesn’t matter if it is a great big circle or an itty-bitty one. Pi is always 3.141 etcetera, etcetera, etcetera, but never ending and never reaching zero no matter how many places beyond the decimal point you go. It's been tried. And is still being tried.</span><br /><div style="background-color: #f6f6f6; font-family: "trebuchet ms", trebuchet, verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlkbsvh80Ok6sN0D40_jY_XyJwj-GSQOdBAI0YsqceDb8v5r9Z8Zskjwtpsm8fiQg-TTokUL5fU6Bl63Gy2Zj5cJatRo2ys9_64aY9hFrzXUW5Hz7RT7ec8-oUIuhY8yIjQFzohE0bmc8/s1600-h/pi+16.jpg" style="color: #80c9ff; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="638" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlkbsvh80Ok6sN0D40_jY_XyJwj-GSQOdBAI0YsqceDb8v5r9Z8Zskjwtpsm8fiQg-TTokUL5fU6Bl63Gy2Zj5cJatRo2ys9_64aY9hFrzXUW5Hz7RT7ec8-oUIuhY8yIjQFzohE0bmc8/s640/pi+16.jpg" style="border-width: 0px;" width="640" /></a></div><span style="background-color: #f6f6f6; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">If you are a math freak this is obvious, while the rest of us have to be satisfied with accepting that Pi is an irrational number and live with it. But I ask you, what is the value of knowing pi?</span><span face=""trebuchet ms" , "trebuchet" , "verdana" , sans-serif" style="background-color: #f6f6f6; font-size: 13px;"> </span><br /><div align="center" style="background-color: #f6f6f6; font-family: "trebuchet ms", trebuchet, verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidCB8FLuEaI0HaNnGA5UGNAF5pqyBYWIqe636SbhVLtnAKTOgfXSE6DUmZ8oik8v7PHSTkfBejsEnghdkwtNYufkhqNthtLd6qeAfj6BBHGj3ab4BIrsgdmruont9f1GzU7zf2lEj54r8/s1600-h/Pi+03.jpg" style="color: #80c9ff; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidCB8FLuEaI0HaNnGA5UGNAF5pqyBYWIqe636SbhVLtnAKTOgfXSE6DUmZ8oik8v7PHSTkfBejsEnghdkwtNYufkhqNthtLd6qeAfj6BBHGj3ab4BIrsgdmruont9f1GzU7zf2lEj54r8/s640/Pi+03.jpg" style="border-width: 0px;" width="412" /></a></div><span style="background-color: #f6f6f6; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I had a fourth grade teacher who was so obsessed with having her students memorize the value of Pi to twenty decimal places that she had us memorize the following poem: “Sir, I send a rhyme excelling, In sacred truth and rigid spelling, Numerical sprites elucidate, For me the lexicon’s full weight”. Each of the 20 words of that poem has the number of letters required to read out the first twenty digits of pi, in order. I had to memorized that poem again in my thirties because as a ten year old I couldn’t spell the word Nantucket, and as a sixty year old I rely upon a spell checker to detail any word long enough to rhyme with “elucidate”. So this poem was as much a mystery to me then as the number Pi remains.</span><br /><div align="center" style="background-color: #f6f6f6; font-family: "trebuchet ms", trebuchet, verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8FopFq8J7YLX-pA-2jazOtxNRBWzGmr4EuoHV2haI0cVXwvzVCrkixaDQlUht0y6EdcXGaFDbkqa6Y2CD9P9oxhilKk7x1WiiZCgK3oqRSCFKP0yXGm2K3NtHCFvFKMZquZz2TGn76BE/s1600-h/Pi+05.gif" style="color: #80c9ff; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8FopFq8J7YLX-pA-2jazOtxNRBWzGmr4EuoHV2haI0cVXwvzVCrkixaDQlUht0y6EdcXGaFDbkqa6Y2CD9P9oxhilKk7x1WiiZCgK3oqRSCFKP0yXGm2K3NtHCFvFKMZquZz2TGn76BE/s640/Pi+05.gif" style="border-width: 0px;" width="561" /></a></div><span style="background-color: #f6f6f6; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">But I am older now and I have grown so used to making mistakes in public that I hardly notice the embarrassment anymore. So I openly admit that I still find pi a puzzle. What's so special about pi? And why Pi, anyway?</span><br /><div align="center" style="background-color: #f6f6f6; font-family: "trebuchet ms", trebuchet, verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik4BY7_Pi35_oxnwryYwz5116IisUwpLU6mGmG0B9oepuGOJnQDYqS9wBvC2iKnuHCMlw5qKZi1T7m_LhXyjJuHv4vHiUBSzNpCwfUM3jFFZDSqOO0gyE6lghOpHNXeP9Qgf6zh6LVvGM/s1600-h/Pi+30.jpg" style="color: #80c9ff; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="507" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik4BY7_Pi35_oxnwryYwz5116IisUwpLU6mGmG0B9oepuGOJnQDYqS9wBvC2iKnuHCMlw5qKZi1T7m_LhXyjJuHv4vHiUBSzNpCwfUM3jFFZDSqOO0gyE6lghOpHNXeP9Qgf6zh6LVvGM/s640/Pi+30.jpg" style="border-width: 0px;" width="640" /></a></div><span style="background-color: #f6f6f6; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Legend has it that the great Greek mathematician Archimedes of Syracuse was struggling over the solution to pi when a Roman soldier blundered into his garden. The old man supposedly snapped, “Don’t touch my circles!”, whereupon the chastised legionary pulled his Gladius and separated Archimedes’ head from his face. I suppose that if Archimedes had been sitting in his bathtub, as he allegedly was when he discovered that displaced water could be used to measure density (Eureka!), something else might have been separated. But, suffice it to say that before computers, finding pi was a great big pain in the Archimedes. He managed to figure out that pi was somewhere between 3 10/71 and 3 1/7. He might have done better if he had invented the decimal point, first. But...</span><br /><div class="separator" style="background-color: #f6f6f6; clear: both; font-family: "trebuchet ms", trebuchet, verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1jL2T8ncahG8GT4TySX3max6q6_jT8ulI0I29feM7sQW_Xp09geZuhamV_LnP4Wzzv5LroEuIQ8v4hQP4i6nyFaUQo0Cn01XmwpFPZ3-b4KmW75E2Jy5hBxUSp15atnawiQ2nnHuRFX4/s1600-h/pi+21.jpg" style="color: #80c9ff; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1jL2T8ncahG8GT4TySX3max6q6_jT8ulI0I29feM7sQW_Xp09geZuhamV_LnP4Wzzv5LroEuIQ8v4hQP4i6nyFaUQo0Cn01XmwpFPZ3-b4KmW75E2Jy5hBxUSp15atnawiQ2nnHuRFX4/s640/pi+21.jpg" style="border-width: 0px;" width="640" /></a></div><div style="background-color: #f6f6f6;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">About the year 480 CE the Chinese mathematician Zu Chongzhi figured out that pi was a little more than 3.1415926 and a little less than 3.1415927. After that the decimal point zealots took over. The German mathematician and fencing instructor Ludolf van Ceulen worked out pi to 35 decimal places. And in 1873 the amateur geek, William Shanks, worked it out to 707 decimal places. But William made one tiny little mistake in the 528th number and that threw everything else off. But it was such a good try that nobody noticed his screw up until 1944. Today computers have figured pi out to one trillion digits to the right of the decimal point and still no repeatable pattern has been detected, and still it never quite reaches zero. It is still a little bit less than 3.15 and a little bit more than 3.14. All that has changed is the definition of “a little bit”. It keeps getting smaller and smaller - but it will never be zero.</span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW3ALJttrZHlLK7GdXjWp_ghYWbeOxS4N2Lk4jWTP-MCyjwD1KMVB7N-Lygvi-Y-iAPO9fL3eYm6regONr3GyUIWaWmPT8IyHAsiaUTu1g-9txMSu271NAZ-URn_9cyXGbGCCK8KlPJGQ/s1600/Pi+Day+++04.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW3ALJttrZHlLK7GdXjWp_ghYWbeOxS4N2Lk4jWTP-MCyjwD1KMVB7N-Lygvi-Y-iAPO9fL3eYm6regONr3GyUIWaWmPT8IyHAsiaUTu1g-9txMSu271NAZ-URn_9cyXGbGCCK8KlPJGQ/s1600/Pi+Day+++04.jpg" width="514" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">But what does that mean? What does Pi mean, beyond its face value? Well, it turns you can find it in the curve of the double helix of a DNA molecule, the chemical code of all living plants, animals and bacteria, and the behavior of light coming from distant galaxies, or out of our sun. Einstein himself realized that if you want to describe why and how a river "meanders" to the sea, you need to use Pi , because the actual length of a stream, with twists and bends, is usually between 1.3 and 1.4 times the straight line distance - called the "meander ratio". It's always pi! All the geologists have to do is plug in the variables for soil type, and angle of slope and latitude and drawing rivers on a map becomes predictable. Pi is why why so many rivers look the same when seen from space or on a big map. Pi is what all rivers have in common with DNA. And airplane wings. And sewer pipes. And eye balls, human and otherwise. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR9P4EMiKB-fEAUzwCfwCVRN8dCFg9l4ykRpUKDgO6NxSFnalgIPwzliGrfIYMno1lnliWzGQYzvJWZSZJJPxMrx9lsYRkVAyK0hTY1Gv-Vf7DKFhOuJRphykVvCyUHzjF2ftFw9N-Ws0/s1600/Pi+day+++01.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="466" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR9P4EMiKB-fEAUzwCfwCVRN8dCFg9l4ykRpUKDgO6NxSFnalgIPwzliGrfIYMno1lnliWzGQYzvJWZSZJJPxMrx9lsYRkVAyK0hTY1Gv-Vf7DKFhOuJRphykVvCyUHzjF2ftFw9N-Ws0/s1600/Pi+day+++01.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Pi reveals the underlying structure of the universe, the lines of force - magnetic, gravity, chemical or electrical. Even atomic. Pi is like a master key, that with a little jiggling, can be made to open just about any door. The mere fact that such a key exists, tells you that everything we can see, hear and feel is connected to everything else, even the stuff we can't see. Pi tells you the chaos inside an exploding super nova is governed by the same laws that control the budding of a flower. It is the mathematical proof that there is a logic to the entire universe, and that logic is 3.</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">141592653589793238...etcetera, etcetera. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span></div></div><div style="background-color: #f6f6f6; font-family: "trebuchet ms", trebuchet, verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPtTFkEF4wRrhTrCHWB0xTvpN0UjO1L0-UTMUW3PkeI9yogtr7MxWL2NncPF6mV3VB8jaYJQhVUWiJLGM29ub5p1JGr7mIcsOCGLfmXHkH3hBOsNvgR4eWHQ-uddRKzlqaKbh5a9zJEBk/s1600-h/Pi+07.png" style="color: #80c9ff; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPtTFkEF4wRrhTrCHWB0xTvpN0UjO1L0-UTMUW3PkeI9yogtr7MxWL2NncPF6mV3VB8jaYJQhVUWiJLGM29ub5p1JGr7mIcsOCGLfmXHkH3hBOsNvgR4eWHQ-uddRKzlqaKbh5a9zJEBk/s640/Pi+07.png" style="border-width: 0px;" width="387" /></a></div><span style="background-color: #f6f6f6; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Thus </span><span style="background-color: #f6f6f6; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">pi is the “admirable number” according to the devilish little Polish poetess Wislawa Szmborska. While being infinitely long it includes “…my phone number, your shirt size, the year nineteen hundred and seventy-three, sixth floor number of inhabitants, sixty-five cents, hip measurement, two fingers, a charade and a code, in which we find how blithe the trostle sings!” (…and no, I have no idea what or who the hell a trostle is or what makes it blithe or unblithe. Do you?)</span><br /><div style="background-color: #f6f6f6; font-family: "trebuchet ms", trebuchet, verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn0Jo96OGHvQQXrTvoi46PKE9pEVFh4kAgWPq46kSVqGW0sVWXqJHNL-eoeDLX54DlX-iJmVsZkBLRnSdx-nci4veKgZXdLRhqM4g_DmqEVbg0DU-iqFXm5B0QAZ59v_tsPSkqhV0lKxw/s1600-h/pi+02.png" style="color: #80c9ff; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="459" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn0Jo96OGHvQQXrTvoi46PKE9pEVFh4kAgWPq46kSVqGW0sVWXqJHNL-eoeDLX54DlX-iJmVsZkBLRnSdx-nci4veKgZXdLRhqM4g_DmqEVbg0DU-iqFXm5B0QAZ59v_tsPSkqhV0lKxw/s640/pi+02.png" style="border-width: 0px;" width="640" /></a></div><span style="background-color: #f6f6f6; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Daniel Rockmore, in the pages of "The Chronicle of High Education" for 12 March 1999, wrote that Pi was "Foreign, unpredictable, otherworldly, yet as common as a circle...it's easy to find, but hard to know. Among mathematicians there still rages a fierce, unsettled debate about whether pi is a "normal" number--that is, whether each of the digits 0 through 9 each occur on average one-tenth of the time in the never-ending decimal expansion of pi...making...Pi...a veritable poster number for the fashion world's ambiguous and androgynous advertising campaigns." And you thought mathematics had no sex appeal Why, if Pi was a plain old 3 or a dull old 4, there would be no sex. Sex is made possible by being 3.14159265358979.... </span>etcetera<span style="background-color: #f6f6f6; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">, </span>etcetera<span style="background-color: #f6f6f6; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">.</span><span style="background-color: #f6f6f6; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">. And it cannot be and will not be controlled. And certainly not owned.</span><br /><div style="background-color: #f6f6f6; font-family: "trebuchet ms", trebuchet, verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz5aG-HBs-Lwam5Fsb6EP9SzpeQiGSOU1wQGJ-XdHdyht6K-mYQeh37tTm-9_LK6-W-p-8_PvKJhPRyG-3r-zjpeXfkAuioOPWoGW8TD_-NrNIs9Cf6Rrh09VTfgYO6l_Q5HTrKRi_0m0/s1600-h/Pi+23.jpg" style="color: #80c9ff; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz5aG-HBs-Lwam5Fsb6EP9SzpeQiGSOU1wQGJ-XdHdyht6K-mYQeh37tTm-9_LK6-W-p-8_PvKJhPRyG-3r-zjpeXfkAuioOPWoGW8TD_-NrNIs9Cf6Rrh09VTfgYO6l_Q5HTrKRi_0m0/s640/Pi+23.jpg" style="border-width: 0px;" width="537" /></a></div><span style="background-color: #f6f6f6; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">A physician and a crackpot amateur mathematician from Solitude, Indiana named Doctor Edwin J. Goodwin, thought that he had “solved” pi to the last digit - and none of this irrational numerical horse feathers for him! And having achieved that which no other human had ever done, he decided to make Pi his own personal private property by copyrighting it. But in order to profit from his discovery (you know how wealthy the Pythagoras estate is) Dr. Goodwin needed a legal endorsement. And rather than subject his brainchild to the vagaries of the copyright peer review, the good doctor instead offered his theory as an accomplished fact to the local politicians. </span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjW5dI4E3ySFMSaQppWe5lwRW1QozHOSgsRn28mqgN3PFIAX6_MS4fp5OwlOSwMDkpfSb2EpAmA8ezSgxqTQi7IG2qNtU7FrwgypS8rZSmNthxEn8ZHUQOjj4SDSWxyXgJJ7ylQmmBHI5F/s1600/Pi+001.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="274" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjW5dI4E3ySFMSaQppWe5lwRW1QozHOSgsRn28mqgN3PFIAX6_MS4fp5OwlOSwMDkpfSb2EpAmA8ezSgxqTQi7IG2qNtU7FrwgypS8rZSmNthxEn8ZHUQOjj4SDSWxyXgJJ7ylQmmBHI5F/s640/Pi+001.jpg" width="584" /></a></div><div><span style="background-color: #f6f6f6; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The proposal, Indiana House Bill 246, sponsored by Representative T.J. Record of Posey, Indiana, was “…an act introducing a new mathematical truth and offered…to be used only by the State of Indiana free of cost…provided it is accepted and adopted by the official action of the Legislature…”. This insanity actually made it through the Committee on Canals and Swamps (Perfect place for it!) in record time, and was passed by the full Indiana house on 5 February, 1897, by a vote of 67 to 0. Who says politicians don't spend time on important issues?</span></div><div class="separator" style="background-color: #f6f6f6; clear: both; font-family: "trebuchet ms", trebuchet, verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgox7CWDf2-hMRpesHxXGRpfSev3TUEEOoM-XIYNfmjJEaWz8XXGPigDKgH-E9y4bdLsVE78HTPa0XjRgRzlplosCpacHNElVNCIVZsXM1GLPoS9XFT5hdYnCxhmski-HfYTqgyl1eQoWY/s1600-h/Pi+09.jpg" style="color: #80c9ff; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgox7CWDf2-hMRpesHxXGRpfSev3TUEEOoM-XIYNfmjJEaWz8XXGPigDKgH-E9y4bdLsVE78HTPa0XjRgRzlplosCpacHNElVNCIVZsXM1GLPoS9XFT5hdYnCxhmski-HfYTqgyl1eQoWY/s400/Pi+09.jpg" style="border-width: 0px;" width="323" /></a></div><div style="background-color: #f6f6f6;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Unfortunately, in the Indiana Senate some wiseacre showed the bill to a visiting Purdue party- pooper, Professor of Mathematics C.A. Waldo. And now we at last know where Waldo was, at least was in 1897. He was on the banks of the Wabash. The lawmaker asked if the professor would like the honor of meeting the amazing Dr. Goodwin, and Professor Waldo replied that he already knew all the lunatics he cared to know, thank you very much. And with that comment Dr. Goodwin’s brief bubble of fame was burst. On 12 February, 1897 any further vote on the bill to copywrite the perfect definitive solution to Pi was postponed indefinitely. Hoosier lunatics have since moved on to more productive fields.</span></div><div style="background-color: #f6f6f6; font-family: "trebuchet ms", trebuchet, verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeHsLWKPWRteTiqJn3oQ6j9ae6uwXdak6rBEJmkcFsFqILz_RQIa34tSTj7llp5dqQQomtgKIZYyUkeLV6YNXumsaNX0stDqxQvK3pV_InZWW3hNFNjmtKfinh9nQX9I58Ji1APagQ0pY/s1600-h/Pi+06.jpg" style="color: #80c9ff; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeHsLWKPWRteTiqJn3oQ6j9ae6uwXdak6rBEJmkcFsFqILz_RQIa34tSTj7llp5dqQQomtgKIZYyUkeLV6YNXumsaNX0stDqxQvK3pV_InZWW3hNFNjmtKfinh9nQX9I58Ji1APagQ0pY/s640/Pi+06.jpg" style="border-width: 0px;" width="523" /></a></div><div style="background-color: #f6f6f6;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">It was not a victory for logic so much as an avoidance of a victory for ignorance, which is pretty much the same thing that happened in Tennessee about 30 years later when they tried to make evolution illegal. Don't tell the whales. They'll have to go back to being dogs. </span></div><div style="background-color: #f6f6f6; font-family: "trebuchet ms", trebuchet, verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgImjanSFR0Iq2fNlYiUaK5r_vtPnB7CllZiQ5_DffIfTHVeF1ZkFXYpxUSsRG4W1eeoPNuShgwNbYuQ7hdFcVtqZa7t_b1dDEeZAZ8UxVwKSe4sg5NR9GaBORFtc-6wQKHpsoBGdXd1AI/s1600-h/Pi+10.jpg" style="color: #80c9ff; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgImjanSFR0Iq2fNlYiUaK5r_vtPnB7CllZiQ5_DffIfTHVeF1ZkFXYpxUSsRG4W1eeoPNuShgwNbYuQ7hdFcVtqZa7t_b1dDEeZAZ8UxVwKSe4sg5NR9GaBORFtc-6wQKHpsoBGdXd1AI/s640/Pi+10.jpg" style="border-width: 0px;" width="427" /></a></div><span style="background-color: #f6f6f6; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Still pi remains one of the most popular mathematical equations, if mostly poorly appreciated by those of us who aren’t trying to generate a random number or navigate a jet plane across the North Pole, or predict the next stock market bubble, or launch a satellite, or run a radio station, or process an X-ray or a Cat-scan, drive a submarine, drill for oil, purify gold or etcetera, etcetera, ad infinitas, add infelicity.</span><br /><div class="separator" style="background-color: #f6f6f6; clear: both; font-family: "trebuchet ms", trebuchet, verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge_7K9uu94Q7Zz6Raz9YzyFCT1IdTnT8x03YQTtxRYB9kVUKOId8yO200B8VSAAwNG1MN_J-Sbp3oTZE11y9wr0NTcGpz-4RHciXsAa7uuA1f0sWEugcGAqXM54vsQfC_8aahbCrttS-A/s1600-h/Pi+11.jpg" style="color: #80c9ff; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="435" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge_7K9uu94Q7Zz6Raz9YzyFCT1IdTnT8x03YQTtxRYB9kVUKOId8yO200B8VSAAwNG1MN_J-Sbp3oTZE11y9wr0NTcGpz-4RHciXsAa7uuA1f0sWEugcGAqXM54vsQfC_8aahbCrttS-A/s640/Pi+11.jpg" style="border-width: 0px;" width="640" /></a></div><div style="background-color: #f6f6f6;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Just trust me, and always trust pi. It lifts your spirit, gives you a sense of security and keeps your circles on the square. To share it just try singing..."Pi, Pi, Me oh my, Nothing tastes sweet, wet, salty and dry, all at once, ...oh my, I love pi!</span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOcu_brhmsWfZqW_QYb7vHCinUC15Svu7LLWV4zDRG3O9UUYmOR7w1EmR0_a2D0iGNx8KGI9W5nKL6hfp1qOWTHFy-fRcXhnCnJsklTDbGj6gMFdPJnJvE315seUgQp9xUjVVR-Bo-PF1m/s1600/Puns+04.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="610" data-original-width="564" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOcu_brhmsWfZqW_QYb7vHCinUC15Svu7LLWV4zDRG3O9UUYmOR7w1EmR0_a2D0iGNx8KGI9W5nKL6hfp1qOWTHFy-fRcXhnCnJsklTDbGj6gMFdPJnJvE315seUgQp9xUjVVR-Bo-PF1m/s640/Puns+04.jpg" width="590" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">-</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;"> 30 -</span></div></div></div>Kimit Mustonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03809428003905885379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5034791890201777099.post-32723347646964627192024-03-15T09:00:00.006-04:002024-03-15T09:00:00.155-04:00MARY QUITE CONTRARY - Two<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjafEQSzxBJzxEzOwjFXanajMmbmVhEqV2NrpyOpYohTausoRQ4YicYpflhhXroVhmO4_lFLoZXWwtJOIO6nytuEqVB43QPeKJ7nSvrnbWcYJ_qUsFiI4ckC05nFCoqoDY6yA7il0xpm7UA/s400/AA+001.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="280" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjafEQSzxBJzxEzOwjFXanajMmbmVhEqV2NrpyOpYohTausoRQ4YicYpflhhXroVhmO4_lFLoZXWwtJOIO6nytuEqVB43QPeKJ7nSvrnbWcYJ_qUsFiI4ckC05nFCoqoDY6yA7il0xpm7UA/w448-h640/AA+001.jpg" width="448" /></a></p><p></p><p>I am of two minds about "Typhoid Mary". The officials could not prove in court that Mary Mallon was spreading typhoid fever. The science of biology had not progressed that far. And that made her arrest and detention unconstitutional. Thank God they locked her up, anyway - at least for awhile.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjswckyIgRBU6gxD7NPaKj_5EAWF4PrCQyzO3epnch5ZA4M4v2jXBD0EpiTjUuCNIySRnekU5Np5jkQ4uNozyQnh4Lq3hrc9Ek_2XYwee4zSREeUTG4z3hYyBMV2Z-ABQTSxc4WJlh_zebX/s583/Mary+038.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="583" data-original-width="497" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjswckyIgRBU6gxD7NPaKj_5EAWF4PrCQyzO3epnch5ZA4M4v2jXBD0EpiTjUuCNIySRnekU5Np5jkQ4uNozyQnh4Lq3hrc9Ek_2XYwee4zSREeUTG4z3hYyBMV2Z-ABQTSxc4WJlh_zebX/w341-h400/Mary+038.jpg" width="341" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">After Mary chased George Soper out of the Bowen family kitchen, it would appear that he was no longer welcomed in the house by either Mary or her employer, Mr, Bowen - which makes me wonder if George was as “diplomatic” as he claimed to be. We know that the next time he tried to talk to Mary, George Soper approached her at the rooming house where she lived. This time he even brought along an actual medical doctor, Doctor Raymond Hobbler. But this did not strengthen his argument. Again Mary refused to hand over her urine, blood or feces. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvrIeXSEeBA1GxoClFDLiWDx-ZM4aYCY5E9yp97gVYpuJzGW04g3wDAyt9HTWwmf1nB4oAcjcViUBFWfaw4B_HOL7P6wsox5zsfsGlyr_ojbjVbJ7-toklNriNX4zYZ8vfMaXPd-DQSUFS/s265/Mary+013.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="265" data-original-width="190" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvrIeXSEeBA1GxoClFDLiWDx-ZM4aYCY5E9yp97gVYpuJzGW04g3wDAyt9HTWwmf1nB4oAcjcViUBFWfaw4B_HOL7P6wsox5zsfsGlyr_ojbjVbJ7-toklNriNX4zYZ8vfMaXPd-DQSUFS/w459-h640/Mary+013.jpg" width="459" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Defeated yet again, the Health Department decided to dispatch the <span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Times New Roman", stixgeneral, serif; font-size: 15.9991px;">assistant commissioner of health, who also managed the smallpox vaccination programs and sanitation issues for the city, </span> Doctor Sara Josephine Baker. She brought with her an assistant, an ambulance with a driver and an attendant, and five police officers.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311148382533968018" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_RpcCVpo3KU11Z4XJQ81-2ZxfONJExEhyphenhyphenLq2VJ4rAMFJ_sMn3LzTctGUSKfIYcazwgYfcrXc2cF60KBAOZszsZCgR2g4BUeISMKEL45StoYfDYh7Lj3-9u8UytZMoqSFYDbbGj-IUfys7/s400/bacteriologylabweb.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 305px; margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px;" /></div><div><div>By the way; Mary Mallon was not a complete fool. She had consulted a chemist – what we would call a pharmacist. He had examined her and assured Mary she was clear of the disease. Thus she felt it was the health officials who were crazy. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqZQzDNJEJWvZywOCC094Y-SLSsm8VheGAgZweay9bRRx9UoSWYZ_8JmG_k89js5KXVM92WBmXOVxTCFrtZxfMpf4jFpu6WDWJNHVcLBfttZz6sDAyv2nXrjgsjEHaorZ10SZofWb6zoNe/s1010/Mary+039.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1010" data-original-width="800" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqZQzDNJEJWvZywOCC094Y-SLSsm8VheGAgZweay9bRRx9UoSWYZ_8JmG_k89js5KXVM92WBmXOVxTCFrtZxfMpf4jFpu6WDWJNHVcLBfttZz6sDAyv2nXrjgsjEHaorZ10SZofWb6zoNe/w506-h640/Mary+039.jpg" width="506" /></a></div><div>So when Mary answered the knock on her rooming house door, and was confronted by Dr Baker and several police officers, she panicked. According to Dr. Baker, “As she lunged at me with the fork, I stepped back, recoiled on the policeman, and so confused matters that, by the time we got through the door, Mary had disappeared.”</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsFMRUrXlmzJqIfA-7S_8SkR1PG5lVYDuLr53PSDKRIZmS0MYH29bqjnxyD-m7LQkqbOL7CUjBY6mJbcxW5c6OnuQVvVTlKVeODE0Uw-B_bG-hXgw9ssw2Exbbh_rBkL_SlwA92egLrKKE/s579/Mary+036.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="414" data-original-width="579" height="458" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsFMRUrXlmzJqIfA-7S_8SkR1PG5lVYDuLr53PSDKRIZmS0MYH29bqjnxyD-m7LQkqbOL7CUjBY6mJbcxW5c6OnuQVvVTlKVeODE0Uw-B_bG-hXgw9ssw2Exbbh_rBkL_SlwA92egLrKKE/w640-h458/Mary+036.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div>They turned the tiny house upside down, and five hours later found Mary hiding in the supply closet of a neighboring house. Wrote Dr. Baker, “(Mary) came out fighting and swearing, both of which she could do with appalling efficiency and vigor…she was maniacal in her integrity…"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXgCwciPk3w8yLfoGmQfpFIi9Q6gxSOtolBSOxS6MxTNadlsMqLNkLoFNDxj-nCeofjJ92PNngJmEGrDlMxU5ACkKFoebtMPnMvOzLSSdqIr-2IlUOG6OhXx8NpscfMjDSjLIOtfsh0Yld77Q3useB5YqdXqTZGeQhWpqPFXwX3CEoDrDZltCrLep_NA/s1300/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(3).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="812" data-original-width="1300" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXgCwciPk3w8yLfoGmQfpFIi9Q6gxSOtolBSOxS6MxTNadlsMqLNkLoFNDxj-nCeofjJ92PNngJmEGrDlMxU5ACkKFoebtMPnMvOzLSSdqIr-2IlUOG6OhXx8NpscfMjDSjLIOtfsh0Yld77Q3useB5YqdXqTZGeQhWpqPFXwX3CEoDrDZltCrLep_NA/w640-h400/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(3).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div>"The policemen lifted her into the ambulance and I literally sat on her all the way to the (Willard Parker Hospital (above))…it was like being in a cage with an angry lion.”</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjLAnIUMLr75H4_kHaIvP6OACxoNmEi8bZjYXmUlwdNEdMHqcYkeJSwDbL_MMwGUdS8vN8Fd9NkXAi_XUk8KCGZYvwkz8cUvYZq0iU7i_5OeGWF75cxOtB_BUBKsB4s-AQV9xUIU9W4ADh/s672/Mary+015.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="414" data-original-width="672" height="394" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjLAnIUMLr75H4_kHaIvP6OACxoNmEi8bZjYXmUlwdNEdMHqcYkeJSwDbL_MMwGUdS8vN8Fd9NkXAi_XUk8KCGZYvwkz8cUvYZq0iU7i_5OeGWF75cxOtB_BUBKsB4s-AQV9xUIU9W4ADh/w640-h394/Mary+015.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div>At last the health officials could obtain the precious samples. The blood and urine were negative. But the stool was described as “teeming” with "Salmonella enterica serovar Typhi". </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO4OOoX_0xMu84bHt-cub3Mc5yRJU2idKXIiGFcRu9lum8WhbaXmiQmnPylRdDkwzB1EJMLzhZQBdxe8O_mztC5igBogmgznYe9Bo2WbkeYpcvGmKoX2EHRySOA6oL7bCnanCf3_zRoE1Q/s400/Mary+016.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="296" data-original-width="400" height="474" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO4OOoX_0xMu84bHt-cub3Mc5yRJU2idKXIiGFcRu9lum8WhbaXmiQmnPylRdDkwzB1EJMLzhZQBdxe8O_mztC5igBogmgznYe9Bo2WbkeYpcvGmKoX2EHRySOA6oL7bCnanCf3_zRoE1Q/w640-h474/Mary+016.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div>Under the city code 1169, requiring Health officials to avoid causes of disease, and code 1170 giving them the right to place any ill person in isolation, they now restricted Mary Mallon (above, foreground) to the hospital on North Brother Island, in the middle of the East River. She would remain there for almost three years. During which time she was not ill. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4SD1A55dtGIbeTfh_tK8z8hcd1-jCOpxVPIIT14106d7BrtqhSMOse43Mf4NByf7ATD8qo5ptgW9dWkxJBGiLWfm72-OVeEFfAsvB4wN3FNj_ZPeoedpyymRy_K21T8AeLpWcfuj_Op-l/s1020/Mary+023.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="704" data-original-width="1020" height="442" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4SD1A55dtGIbeTfh_tK8z8hcd1-jCOpxVPIIT14106d7BrtqhSMOse43Mf4NByf7ATD8qo5ptgW9dWkxJBGiLWfm72-OVeEFfAsvB4wN3FNj_ZPeoedpyymRy_K21T8AeLpWcfuj_Op-l/w640-h442/Mary+023.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div>But throughout that time Mary continued to fight back, writing letters and contacting lawyers. The hospital's tests showed 120 out of 163 of her stool samples tested positive for typhoid. So Mary sent her own samples to a private lab and consulted her own physicians. They reported her as free of typhoid. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg15ELD5H2-Tx2Iwgei8zZ3nk7j4BILWJ6U1LRSrwHsafVtSsj_IOZDHoBd2v4MuUQ74P7Tn3v7EIycOgfOi1icAStwpKUWa8uGPgo1b2wdI_zCzlojLzlPMHcQ5-axVt1_88_0-UvUMiFu/s410/Mary+034.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="410" data-original-width="314" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg15ELD5H2-Tx2Iwgei8zZ3nk7j4BILWJ6U1LRSrwHsafVtSsj_IOZDHoBd2v4MuUQ74P7Tn3v7EIycOgfOi1icAStwpKUWa8uGPgo1b2wdI_zCzlojLzlPMHcQ5-axVt1_88_0-UvUMiFu/w490-h640/Mary+034.jpg" width="490" /></a></div><div>As she wrote to the courts, “I am an innocent human being. I have committed no crime, and I am treated like an outcast - - a criminal. It is unjust, outrageous, uncivilized. It seems to me incredible that in a Christian community a defenseless woman can be treated in this manner.” Clearly this was not an ignorant woman. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDrbyUfvbb0-CBjCVTokGGenrsrlV00rM73TAHfFHkbS8JIjF56HkqQLma9MfNe4k11voD4i_I1mgQYoDV2t_IZUWtSzagv8n4DTqGayZg2mjgJvFgnYxwLNCW83NgZbhHJOFZvpzVj68J/s1900/Mary+022.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1263" data-original-width="1900" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDrbyUfvbb0-CBjCVTokGGenrsrlV00rM73TAHfFHkbS8JIjF56HkqQLma9MfNe4k11voD4i_I1mgQYoDV2t_IZUWtSzagv8n4DTqGayZg2mjgJvFgnYxwLNCW83NgZbhHJOFZvpzVj68J/w640-h426/Mary+022.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div>A photo of patients taken from the hospital on North Brother Island is dominated by a glaring Mary Mallon (above, foreground). No wonder she is glaring because it is a staged photo. Except for her first few days there, Mary was not confined to a bed. And in the photo she is fully dressed.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWQl5aRWjPEnZ-kHZ0QKOGW89TX5WzROa23BO2uhU_S7T5RsF9zU1pmAk6_HJ7InRbE8lpHfhlZr4F9XmvFnXlOlSDVjsodwjn-VxVsAIJJWI9ooCo6zorwiPNxLZc5kKxpXoIZ9rivfm7/s300/Mary+017.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="253" data-original-width="300" height="540" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWQl5aRWjPEnZ-kHZ0QKOGW89TX5WzROa23BO2uhU_S7T5RsF9zU1pmAk6_HJ7InRbE8lpHfhlZr4F9XmvFnXlOlSDVjsodwjn-VxVsAIJJWI9ooCo6zorwiPNxLZc5kKxpXoIZ9rivfm7/w640-h540/Mary+017.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div>Because she was not ill, the hospital provided her a small cottage . But she was still not a woman to be ignored.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid3xxzklqmNYbH_bbk_GceVizBFB5vNYIsac8rExMWTFbiaicA6fJcPjbUlYrKa-j8zgQtxu8f8mLzH0ul-9WfDr05bRc5bjUlmjDSWPHAsEt5lh1W1H1sLP_Yvh7P8bRHtKjfNeVhnKNh/s400/Mary+002.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="296" data-original-width="400" height="474" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid3xxzklqmNYbH_bbk_GceVizBFB5vNYIsac8rExMWTFbiaicA6fJcPjbUlYrKa-j8zgQtxu8f8mLzH0ul-9WfDr05bRc5bjUlmjDSWPHAsEt5lh1W1H1sLP_Yvh7P8bRHtKjfNeVhnKNh/w640-h474/Mary+002.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div>The civil engineer George Soper (above) fought back. “The state has the power to compel the ignorant, the selfish, the careless and the vicious to so regulate their lives and property so that they shall not be the source of danger to others. The welfare of the many is the supreme law…” It was an arrogant argument, which in 1909 swayed Justice Mitchell Erlanger. “While the court deeply sympathizes with this unfortunate woman, it must protect the community.” But the public was now aware of Mary’s predicament, and public pressure began to build for her release.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAP-iha3eLYy4RBjrGpR13On7QF2T_pnFmd7AhpaWsOCU9Q4-kq8p8k0p-W2cKT74lFEgg6NAMgJoffFj2VAKlciC5BBy5FFLC_N2c2l31LDN53hWuh02JmUlCeL4TQ1Hz2AuN5amyfnnH/s400/Mary+018.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="400" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAP-iha3eLYy4RBjrGpR13On7QF2T_pnFmd7AhpaWsOCU9Q4-kq8p8k0p-W2cKT74lFEgg6NAMgJoffFj2VAKlciC5BBy5FFLC_N2c2l31LDN53hWuh02JmUlCeL4TQ1Hz2AuN5amyfnnH/w640-h512/Mary+018.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div>In 1910 a new commissioner of the NYC Board of Health agreed to release Mary if she promised to no longer work as a cook, and checked in every three months with the board. Mary immediately agreed, and on 20 February, 1909 , she stepped off the ferry from Brothers Island and blended back into the city of New York. She reported to the Health Department a few times and then simply disappeared. She was not heard again for five years. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmzihViBxWj2Mqax_EP6yM_T_nhV1DoqM81HdXmyh5MUjq4ECcN_ndBW-IomsbBO9tGBrSGxaCU1frDoTZpZ6RN6cQWhYMkCLrS6QsNUKheJOHWwOQnJUpYKDPdiJf1TcBUd99hPKai5ZC/s1167/Mary+050.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="943" data-original-width="1167" height="518" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmzihViBxWj2Mqax_EP6yM_T_nhV1DoqM81HdXmyh5MUjq4ECcN_ndBW-IomsbBO9tGBrSGxaCU1frDoTZpZ6RN6cQWhYMkCLrS6QsNUKheJOHWwOQnJUpYKDPdiJf1TcBUd99hPKai5ZC/w640-h518/Mary+050.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div>In January 1915 there was another outbreak of typhoid fever at the Sloan Maternity Hospital (above). Twenty-five nurses and workers fell sick, two of whom died. In fact, that year some 300,000 cases of Typhoid Fever were identified in the entire city. Eventually the investigation narrowed to a new cook, at the Maternity Hospital named Mrs. Brown. And upon being arrested by the police Mrs. Brown confessed. She was actually Mary Mallon. And the entire 1915 out break could be traced back to her.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv3oK-WGLF_xwKj4fbM91yvT2dzboVEq-Xfxj05K-mSRLxvVtrbht3rRWJMTPc0HDvlcAQkHZod-qu-C1UvRaw2dXkmWgN2mDn39W9_20gWsRtJcF3XCd5CToYfBewFBc20JJBZ45KwK0e/s685/Mary+028.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="578" data-original-width="685" height="540" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv3oK-WGLF_xwKj4fbM91yvT2dzboVEq-Xfxj05K-mSRLxvVtrbht3rRWJMTPc0HDvlcAQkHZod-qu-C1UvRaw2dXkmWgN2mDn39W9_20gWsRtJcF3XCd5CToYfBewFBc20JJBZ45KwK0e/w640-h540/Mary+028.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div>Mr. Soper observed, “Here she was, dispensing germs daily with the food…” The press wanted her tried for murder and the public, which had supported her plea for freedom five years before, were now universal in their condemnation. But Mary herself was unrepentant, telling a reporter, “As there is a God in heaven, I will get justice, somehow, sometime.” She still refused to believe she was the source of infection. She told Life magazine, “I am doomed to be a prisoner for life!” </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRDxVIRqCzTfl_r5Fq-wlE2GjPKst3ULVk6vgNGbgUZUNqTGgrsqXyk8Bo-BkHMVahlKzO33XPmiQQJllAHyYklNMARcoYCdoZC8n0RI7nwMlJpkdjP_9Niv6W2QqWDc_Yae5yo1xkFgDc/s710/Mary+043.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="710" data-original-width="529" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRDxVIRqCzTfl_r5Fq-wlE2GjPKst3ULVk6vgNGbgUZUNqTGgrsqXyk8Bo-BkHMVahlKzO33XPmiQQJllAHyYklNMARcoYCdoZC8n0RI7nwMlJpkdjP_9Niv6W2QqWDc_Yae5yo1xkFgDc/w298-h400/Mary+043.jpg" width="298" /></a></div><div>And so she was. She was returned to her cottage on North Brother Island (above), and eventually was given a job helping out in the laboratory. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2ra3gvGSvLvaynXcmUPvB7jWbee_Ji84MPzr5qBClnyi8gt-tYhFy9NqwoRoL2roNzugPvx2sG8aH58WEw-ZFCEB2d2TULtOyyj2uAB_ByyYfyXmZz3tBQWAen6NNKW_v_h98m3gMP2Rp/s439/Mary+020.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="439" data-original-width="277" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2ra3gvGSvLvaynXcmUPvB7jWbee_Ji84MPzr5qBClnyi8gt-tYhFy9NqwoRoL2roNzugPvx2sG8aH58WEw-ZFCEB2d2TULtOyyj2uAB_ByyYfyXmZz3tBQWAen6NNKW_v_h98m3gMP2Rp/w253-h400/Mary+020.jpg" width="253" /></a></div><div>Years later, there is Mary (above, right) wearing glasses now, standing next to bacteriologist Emma Sherman. Seeing her you can understand how the police and Doctor Baker had such trouble taking her into custody that first time. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDkHhWZuzFub28euvLxYxUweCSrSav6KwMfAaAnxFpO44dHGYmt2ovY61PcEhxyoTFT6OE9zktGgVH5As8cvwbS97vJDq1oSgZLkCs4pVRZD8Zw5bdpjiW0ay-oRmfsGTtZsgH7IpbLE_B/s2048/Mary+051.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1683" data-original-width="2048" height="526" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDkHhWZuzFub28euvLxYxUweCSrSav6KwMfAaAnxFpO44dHGYmt2ovY61PcEhxyoTFT6OE9zktGgVH5As8cvwbS97vJDq1oSgZLkCs4pVRZD8Zw5bdpjiW0ay-oRmfsGTtZsgH7IpbLE_B/w640-h526/Mary+051.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div>Mary must have been lonely. She had few visitors, usually only staff members. She never admitted she might be responsible for any illness or deaths, but for twenty-three years she was identified to all as “Typhoid Mary”. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBMBPv4Us-xCC4NT7OVFna5FxapY2Ah1IIOh3L87x8cL-UqWi78EQZ2ZIe-TeawrNqYwu5ttExk6PwBjxkHevHPiXUkIVolGQV3JBnMxODWeRaGfi9_gfkpVznBYfGLuug_kbJR3J1UmOL/s1827/Mary+027.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1827" data-original-width="754" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBMBPv4Us-xCC4NT7OVFna5FxapY2Ah1IIOh3L87x8cL-UqWi78EQZ2ZIe-TeawrNqYwu5ttExk6PwBjxkHevHPiXUkIVolGQV3JBnMxODWeRaGfi9_gfkpVznBYfGLuug_kbJR3J1UmOL/w264-h640/Mary+027.png" width="264" /></a></div><div>Then, in December of 1932 she suffered a massive stroke. Now, she was a patient again, and bed ridden. And in 1938 she died. She claimed to have never suffered from typhoid fever. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG-NVlL10USCCrSysUbI6C-wJ8f4Qc-u42CBBLTav587q-JObMNlYklT10mvMxaXU6T3CGrqcSprpuvgpo2AlWcFMcYDnkrEffsAEU1scBggGinX5bqWL0tjxZMyFQoT5kO8fzhIaiN9Wp/s754/Mary+029.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="754" data-original-width="546" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG-NVlL10USCCrSysUbI6C-wJ8f4Qc-u42CBBLTav587q-JObMNlYklT10mvMxaXU6T3CGrqcSprpuvgpo2AlWcFMcYDnkrEffsAEU1scBggGinX5bqWL0tjxZMyFQoT5kO8fzhIaiN9Wp/w464-h640/Mary+029.jpg" width="464" /></a></div><div>But her autopsy revealed her liver was heavily infected with the Typhoid bacteria, which it had been periodically releasing her entire adult life. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQNCfds-SV1rgRi_ZCWXi6chJQs8eKx59kBE2OmFBC3Us0uhVrZuYCmehnsvSL-3fn6hMEdVBT3E87aeIL8PGAyuo9wGJEWvjxI89khtTuofg8_x8pxcydkGyCOTLYSR7yOIIusKF21Hq5/s277/Mary+021.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="277" data-original-width="272" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQNCfds-SV1rgRi_ZCWXi6chJQs8eKx59kBE2OmFBC3Us0uhVrZuYCmehnsvSL-3fn6hMEdVBT3E87aeIL8PGAyuo9wGJEWvjxI89khtTuofg8_x8pxcydkGyCOTLYSR7yOIIusKF21Hq5/w628-h640/Mary+021.jpg" width="628" /></a></div><div>"Typhoid" Mary Mallon is buried in St. Raymond’s Cemetery in the Bronx.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOfFLp4MhCnwLpRziwHiTQ54F-NuDBEkRC-4HmydAbjpUYWStA_JaTEZ7xXb5W25K13YX_vLwWlatT7aKjJhUGl7Q3SvIpULqn2opvGSuNtYAU6E4C5gOe5OfFm2RV0y_qxJ-LEhFCImSk/s650/Mary+052.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="510" data-original-width="650" height="502" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOfFLp4MhCnwLpRziwHiTQ54F-NuDBEkRC-4HmydAbjpUYWStA_JaTEZ7xXb5W25K13YX_vLwWlatT7aKjJhUGl7Q3SvIpULqn2opvGSuNtYAU6E4C5gOe5OfFm2RV0y_qxJ-LEhFCImSk/w640-h502/Mary+052.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div>Her nemesis, George Soper (above), was the director of the American Cancer Society from 1923 to 1928. He died on relative obscurity 17 June, 1948, in at the age of 78. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihnPwjurwEs44xTn1ZCkjDhCQ0Zndj4RrSjtYntL7PKPHd96qvNHyRHgbtM8024L5NssJTgn9_k5wut-mg8hn4wwpykEjvJ57yLYQ3FX19_QXV8ZjjsjRR6bVz6zhzvs-OfLbOzEyhJ5LC/s768/Mary+033.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="431" data-original-width="768" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihnPwjurwEs44xTn1ZCkjDhCQ0Zndj4RrSjtYntL7PKPHd96qvNHyRHgbtM8024L5NssJTgn9_k5wut-mg8hn4wwpykEjvJ57yLYQ3FX19_QXV8ZjjsjRR6bVz6zhzvs-OfLbOzEyhJ5LC/w640-h360/Mary+033.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div>He must have known that his subject, Mary Mallon (above, left), would be better remembered than he was; which was odd. She just wanted a normal life, while he hungered for fame.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYyoPnZsbZZ6zncWY-nJWaMoWRUdE9dA9of66M4IpKqQmIlFl8PN1lQiOoK07jWFu5XBuJU5okWGBIJIT8OD5sSwcMLmKbur7jiIdW2s-HJII24MIkspuL7TgV82QNVxFPQaK4u2GX3AfM/s651/Mary+053.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="651" data-original-width="623" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYyoPnZsbZZ6zncWY-nJWaMoWRUdE9dA9of66M4IpKqQmIlFl8PN1lQiOoK07jWFu5XBuJU5okWGBIJIT8OD5sSwcMLmKbur7jiIdW2s-HJII24MIkspuL7TgV82QNVxFPQaK4u2GX3AfM/w383-h400/Mary+053.jpeg" width="383" /></a></div><div>Doctor Sara Josephine Baker (above) was appointed the director of New York City's Bureau of Child Hygiene in 1908. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhN4eOZNgcmivdpQ_2z1XEZLmoSxBCzfsRzV5zgV9XTJXJRoQMS1Ye2EW-7QuoNkhiOuXpO12h5SNShO2Uu_0kRDDLutoWS7W8vhBbfzgemtQVq4UeoyPBSkXoaG_5yewF6LjBThglo_oy/s241/Mary+055.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="190" data-original-width="241" height="316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhN4eOZNgcmivdpQ_2z1XEZLmoSxBCzfsRzV5zgV9XTJXJRoQMS1Ye2EW-7QuoNkhiOuXpO12h5SNShO2Uu_0kRDDLutoWS7W8vhBbfzgemtQVq4UeoyPBSkXoaG_5yewF6LjBThglo_oy/w400-h316/Mary+055.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div>And when she (above, foreground, washing a baby), retired in 1923, New York City had the lowest childhood mortality rate of any major city in the United States. </div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4x4jTzWgBr5ywxrPFWxvvKssJFptsZTXd16A6rHO8K_okxRfQTqdfMNvE6C35PUN0DClohTKD02PxQyB7dKBXH5IA-95WwVnwu8DZWGCpETNji03-2OpbxewHlu4wuXw8U1NWQxoQL08F/s418/Mary+054.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="418" data-original-width="307" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4x4jTzWgBr5ywxrPFWxvvKssJFptsZTXd16A6rHO8K_okxRfQTqdfMNvE6C35PUN0DClohTKD02PxQyB7dKBXH5IA-95WwVnwu8DZWGCpETNji03-2OpbxewHlu4wuXw8U1NWQxoQL08F/w470-h640/Mary+054.jpg" width="470" /></a></div></div><div><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Times New Roman", stixgeneral, serif; font-size: 15.9991px;">During the remainder of her life, Dr. Baker (above) resided in New Jersey with her life partner, novelist Ida Wylie. Between the 50 articles she wrote for profession journals, her 200 magazine articles on children's health and her five books, it is probable Dr. Baker saved hundred's of thousands of children's lives by the time she died in 1945. </span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyns-NG91HUp61wFU9RmLK2WGIXIy-lZyEfNBlLeNPpkfLAikA5yg_t-3Ol9HHAu78I0mJ6Dg8Poj905PIflorOxRaETjBj4uiDvm5cadkp7TwpmffKzb3wXE7DscUCRv16TQX_jXJZ2xb/s512/Mary+056.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="288" data-original-width="512" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyns-NG91HUp61wFU9RmLK2WGIXIy-lZyEfNBlLeNPpkfLAikA5yg_t-3Ol9HHAu78I0mJ6Dg8Poj905PIflorOxRaETjBj4uiDvm5cadkp7TwpmffKzb3wXE7DscUCRv16TQX_jXJZ2xb/w400-h225/Mary+056.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></div><div><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, stixgeneral, serif; font-size: 15.9991px;">A vaccine, available since 1921, can prevent most Typhoid infections, but it has side effects. Since 1946 the standard treatment has been a course of the antibiotic streptomycin, invented by graduate student, Albert Israel Schatz, and stolen by his advisor at Rutgers</span><span style="font-family: times;">, Professor <span style="color: #202122;">Selman Waksman (above)</span></span></span><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="background-color: white;">, This can </span><span style="background-color: white;">cure an infected patient. Still prevention of infections through public health programs remains the most cost effective method to prevent its spread. And nothing developed over the past century woul</span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "Times New Roman", stixgeneral, serif; font-size: 15.9991px;">d have made life any easier for "Typhoid" Mary Mallon, </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7JHzgLk48SFGfVttPU378Vhu7lQyYkRa9FuHeyLatjnjYRwOdCLQCU2TEKYN2p29U1FisxZVYOOS1D49aNfxX0Mq3oIscJ33KRVet5dOo4jxvlyrG0AnRUZtE1hv6xgLBZAYAvg6NYsmN/s800/Mary+037.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="574" data-original-width="800" height="460" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7JHzgLk48SFGfVttPU378Vhu7lQyYkRa9FuHeyLatjnjYRwOdCLQCU2TEKYN2p29U1FisxZVYOOS1D49aNfxX0Mq3oIscJ33KRVet5dOo4jxvlyrG0AnRUZtE1hv6xgLBZAYAvg6NYsmN/w640-h460/Mary+037.jpg" width="640" /></a></div></div><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"> - 30 -</span> </p>Kimit Mustonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03809428003905885379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5034791890201777099.post-89966595650221429722024-03-14T09:00:00.006-04:002024-03-14T09:00:00.140-04:00 MARY QUITE CONTRARY - ONE <p> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitIgwSIAh0bWr-01HDaIdHYFiGQ7hkI7xM8Knf-gAH_R0ha0z5o_G09J2z22v7gunR5OIopun37bYocPCTOs6sGZwFIyPjP1jUp6Wa5tyPQv2c7abN0l_XBGSnYrB7iy-fO_qKTme352w9/s400/Mary+001.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="312" data-original-width="400" height="500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitIgwSIAh0bWr-01HDaIdHYFiGQ7hkI7xM8Knf-gAH_R0ha0z5o_G09J2z22v7gunR5OIopun37bYocPCTOs6sGZwFIyPjP1jUp6Wa5tyPQv2c7abN0l_XBGSnYrB7iy-fO_qKTme352w9/w640-h500/Mary+001.png" width="640" /></a></p><p></p><div>I doubt you have ever heard of George Soper, but he is the perfect example of the ways that new technology provides an opportunity for an individual to achieve wealth and fame. George was born in 1870 in New York City, just as the population was exploding, and people began noticing that it was not a very healthy place to live. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg_L4NMpU7qbf1OSktL2oOXQSJDTYjPDE4SVRW0N89-wBrnywVCyM42S5n5TaRcMxCinbnEz9JB1us7TL4ecHdw_Cbmo7kD01Dze4cr0Xssfi33fU9kv-FUBiBE3RdZIyRNxJ0gKnnUSnHu10QTWQrAvlXsvRmWsMHdf0lcAiNYvHCC9cWRwOtfUFdBMA=s2473" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2272" data-original-width="2473" height="588" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg_L4NMpU7qbf1OSktL2oOXQSJDTYjPDE4SVRW0N89-wBrnywVCyM42S5n5TaRcMxCinbnEz9JB1us7TL4ecHdw_Cbmo7kD01Dze4cr0Xssfi33fU9kv-FUBiBE3RdZIyRNxJ0gKnnUSnHu10QTWQrAvlXsvRmWsMHdf0lcAiNYvHCC9cWRwOtfUFdBMA=w640-h588" width="640" /></a></div><div>Each year one out of every 36 people in New York City died of disease or accident. In Boston and Philadelphia the rate was one out of every 44. The rate for London and Paris was one out of every 40. The natural question was why the death rate varied at all. No one had ever asked that before, scientifically. So George did.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGJjIv5b4sf0_Xezp_vsK_QBM_Sg3Y2xjyKJjzLwYFe6RvG4pWJktEofc5w6CNG1INlBLErCs0KpEgDD6DrIj65Et1avmsgHXtGRpWfdVOFyw8DepEKkBjuZVGzqI_2N-iL4dSLeCprq4u/s400/Mary+002.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="296" data-original-width="400" height="474" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGJjIv5b4sf0_Xezp_vsK_QBM_Sg3Y2xjyKJjzLwYFe6RvG4pWJktEofc5w6CNG1INlBLErCs0KpEgDD6DrIj65Et1avmsgHXtGRpWfdVOFyw8DepEKkBjuZVGzqI_2N-iL4dSLeCprq4u/w640-h474/Mary+002.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">George A. Soper (above) graduated from Columbia University in 1899 with a doctorate in the new field of "civil engineering". He was described as a man of “average build, high wide forehead and hooded eyes that seem foreboding,” which I suppose came from staring down disaster day after day.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilLj3PodfoOKyuAL7dg2aemV16O4wkoLjUXxGi4peIMlzwC6spjOH9d-Tzv9V6i2-z-TVgBzmTP7caLvy31LcoF7OFayyVvMRHq1UMu7PdtjZ2K3WGHXfjfNpwoYvGZBBRVcpeOikPF9oY/s400/Mary+003.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="264" data-original-width="400" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilLj3PodfoOKyuAL7dg2aemV16O4wkoLjUXxGi4peIMlzwC6spjOH9d-Tzv9V6i2-z-TVgBzmTP7caLvy31LcoF7OFayyVvMRHq1UMu7PdtjZ2K3WGHXfjfNpwoYvGZBBRVcpeOikPF9oY/w640-h422/Mary+003.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div>On 8 September, 1900 , when a category 4 Hurricane leveled Galveston Island, Texas and killed one third of the human population, one of the unsung heroes was 30 year old Dr. George Soper. He saved thousands of lives in Galveston by quickly redesigning and installing a new municipal water system and preventing the predicted typhoid epidemic which normally followed natural disasters. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1cQE8Wh7rKxBPUsildCXVxFygdadfwMoMU9CT9IYPSg4Yphkd44eYeU5uFKBRwd9elT0HAqDEYvQKZOnegvFA6EJapZmSjCTRyjWyFFbUBRyDq7CTNX-IGSMD8j90FMLM3pvBWi6ThSTV/s519/Mary+046.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="281" data-original-width="519" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1cQE8Wh7rKxBPUsildCXVxFygdadfwMoMU9CT9IYPSg4Yphkd44eYeU5uFKBRwd9elT0HAqDEYvQKZOnegvFA6EJapZmSjCTRyjWyFFbUBRyDq7CTNX-IGSMD8j90FMLM3pvBWi6ThSTV/w400-h216/Mary+046.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div>In 1903 he helped stop a typhoid epidemic in Ithaca that had killed 82 in just two months, and then stopped another typhoid outbreak in Watertown, New York. In 1904 he turned his attention to the death rate in New York City.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRmMpQsG7mvvkvYz4oQG0BhbKr7NMzE9rFlL3kLm1fSN_0-6gOibnkk4BbfdCQfNgzoi3eAwFvAiEr8PMsIyGStvipb9k6YCIFec_TSGeHFEGZGN8kXoxyweSfBXZL9P6sG8RjFAaoItxW/s400/Mary+004.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="298" data-original-width="400" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRmMpQsG7mvvkvYz4oQG0BhbKr7NMzE9rFlL3kLm1fSN_0-6gOibnkk4BbfdCQfNgzoi3eAwFvAiEr8PMsIyGStvipb9k6YCIFec_TSGeHFEGZGN8kXoxyweSfBXZL9P6sG8RjFAaoItxW/w640-h476/Mary+004.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div>George was hired by the Department of Health, and tasked with answering a basic question; what happens to all that human waste dumped into the Hudson and East Rivers? Conventional wisdom was that it all floated out to the ocean. But by releasing floats into the rivers and tracking their journeys over three years, George stunning proved that because of their width and the tides, neither the Hudson or the East River actually flows very much out to sea. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglYhc4TuT7svf2Rtac3DdzwbwxDHnGw1gyRA3JqcmWMs_6CW-1V6Hi-ScDKQ2iNMOg0ujqukt1CN4jBqNbXpJh6FVe3YX_ABcSxSefEB-c1nSk6wQWiKKC7ikYDHYayNwU-pqfnlhHc0GO/s555/Mary+047.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="394" data-original-width="555" height="454" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglYhc4TuT7svf2Rtac3DdzwbwxDHnGw1gyRA3JqcmWMs_6CW-1V6Hi-ScDKQ2iNMOg0ujqukt1CN4jBqNbXpJh6FVe3YX_ABcSxSefEB-c1nSk6wQWiKKC7ikYDHYayNwU-pqfnlhHc0GO/w640-h454/Mary+047.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div>The floats meandered back and forth for weeks before eventually escaping into the bay. Since the river did not flush itself, it was not a very good toilet. As George explained to the New York Times, “…immense quantities of poisonous sewage floats for days in the river and bays close to public baths, bathing beaches and the oyster beds of Jamaica Bay, from which 1 million bushels are brought to New York markets every year.” (p. 20, NYT March 14, 1911 Sports) George was obviously preparing the public for the expense of building a new sewage system.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisjWggHuF3UAZjMQ7glM_knae4S9H-uzX_texhEwvO_78oMuBWCOVN7QmV0xQf28JRJBOYg0nH8BKgWbkpY6U_q_wLurRRa0MztpFEsyOrWC5bqm4noM-KAGXSgO1YliMsGyt01kg0Wf-o/s400/Mary+005.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="396" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisjWggHuF3UAZjMQ7glM_knae4S9H-uzX_texhEwvO_78oMuBWCOVN7QmV0xQf28JRJBOYg0nH8BKgWbkpY6U_q_wLurRRa0MztpFEsyOrWC5bqm4noM-KAGXSgO1YliMsGyt01kg0Wf-o/w634-h640/Mary+005.jpg" width="634" /></a></div><div>George knew there would be resistance. “No new taxes!” is not a new battle cry. And he knew opponents to the expense would be nit-picking every word he said. And if you listened carefully you could hear Dr. Soper soften his absolutes, even in that same interview with the Times. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvsLzDJDiqKNrvIf6C8PmSsRBKTjlfHYJI0Xq-sT7dWgohalCr2kPANasAMtY8WHi4sTnDxqFRc0f-jDcYTt5Pe-guUVIndD45k2WSadLu5CLIVZo039hHzfdaA5ddCxvswtrYMrBDhig1/s238/Mary+049.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="238" data-original-width="202" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvsLzDJDiqKNrvIf6C8PmSsRBKTjlfHYJI0Xq-sT7dWgohalCr2kPANasAMtY8WHi4sTnDxqFRc0f-jDcYTt5Pe-guUVIndD45k2WSadLu5CLIVZo039hHzfdaA5ddCxvswtrYMrBDhig1/w543-h640/Mary+049.jpg" width="543" /></a></div><div>He continued, “Only recently there was an outbreak of typhoid at the Rockaway Peninsula…In one case we traced the oysters to a dealer who was to have put them into fresh water before selling them. We could not assertion whether or not he kept his promise…” In other words, George knew the sewage was killing people but he did not yet have the individual case histories or the laboratory work that would establish it to a scientific certainty. He was inventing on the fly a new science - epidemiology.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNqTiC6RpME43-h_K9Gb9ZGNIpsyuTaYVFrt5S65B-yaH9QgL7X58yiX6ebxGM_57PPeBSFn8Fku70cXRzlCqvEWFTkPvqqpx1rjfobnCkA35nBTlnGvfuIWjEcwa-ViHHN2jGWy0hA7VdchGRBPTTYEguiwmsd17L6mnr5MdgMwPgzY-t3RrxNrG41Q/s750/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(4).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="545" data-original-width="750" height="466" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNqTiC6RpME43-h_K9Gb9ZGNIpsyuTaYVFrt5S65B-yaH9QgL7X58yiX6ebxGM_57PPeBSFn8Fku70cXRzlCqvEWFTkPvqqpx1rjfobnCkA35nBTlnGvfuIWjEcwa-ViHHN2jGWy0hA7VdchGRBPTTYEguiwmsd17L6mnr5MdgMwPgzY-t3RrxNrG41Q/w640-h466/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(4).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div>Typhoid Fever only strikes humans. By the middle of the 19th Century it was proven it was caused when humans consumed food or water contaminated by human wastes. The blood of every patient is filled with rod shaped Salmonella Serotype Typhi bacteria (above), The disease begins as mild fever that increases in temperature over several days and is later accompanied by debilitating abdominal pain, constipation, headaches and vomiting. The symptoms continue for months, and even kill the young and the old. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGQZCrXZW766Kdav3C4ZjsZ1KRvYBHyrE6-O7NiUmvBfusqzQ5aJYpQKmSeb5aA7l1_ndFDFDQoObbo6LzV2Ar0rIa4iv07ZvjGSfeDFG5Gpen22Z8MRgXJKBTgrcyi9F0G0qslArCSrwv/s768/Mary+040.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="483" data-original-width="768" height="402" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGQZCrXZW766Kdav3C4ZjsZ1KRvYBHyrE6-O7NiUmvBfusqzQ5aJYpQKmSeb5aA7l1_ndFDFDQoObbo6LzV2Ar0rIa4iv07ZvjGSfeDFG5Gpen22Z8MRgXJKBTgrcyi9F0G0qslArCSrwv/w640-h402/Mary+040.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>And that was why, when landlord George Thompson asked Dr. Soper to investigate a single outbreak of typhoid in a house he was renting in Oyster Bay, Long Island, Dr. Soper jumped at the chance. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLQhh4kpYkmsoW0J2O-h3heXftYGrSgGdrELV4VsvkHnUX5SgtVTT-I-k1P0gIU5zUFR-iYRaZzaa-BItb7n63YQfMTRjvUrhzYiW8xLE2a2oWZl0bMJ_o5pZtpFp9nDKNAZKl9ZbrkXxR/s360/Mary+006.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="268" data-original-width="360" height="297" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLQhh4kpYkmsoW0J2O-h3heXftYGrSgGdrELV4VsvkHnUX5SgtVTT-I-k1P0gIU5zUFR-iYRaZzaa-BItb7n63YQfMTRjvUrhzYiW8xLE2a2oWZl0bMJ_o5pZtpFp9nDKNAZKl9ZbrkXxR/w400-h297/Mary+006.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div>Banker Charles Warren and his family had rented a guest house (above) for the summer from the George Thompson. On Sunday, 27 August, 1911, one of the Warren daughters had suddenly developed a fever of 105 degrees F, a headache, diarrhea, nausea and a heavy cough. When she also developed a skin rash a local doctor diagnosed her with typhoid fever. Quickly Mrs. Warren, a second daughter, two maids and the gardener also came down with the fever. A Board of Health investigator quickly ascribed the source to a contaminated water supply, but the Thompson family drank from the same well, and they were all fine. Mr. Thompson was convinced the cause could not be the water, in part because, if it was, he would have a very hard time renting that house again.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj98mjQP35lfL6zY3YzzIQntiqcWILCD0_-bXVXRtBh9xaaTv_xFTffvrlZiCu8XasJ-uGoxbi_FShEOZS2SHk27YWHSe0X7vRZf-lpJnBp9JS2AR6YfqyMCdyuhvHQr6FkqJE15AjvURQf/s400/Mary+007.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="282" data-original-width="400" height="452" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj98mjQP35lfL6zY3YzzIQntiqcWILCD0_-bXVXRtBh9xaaTv_xFTffvrlZiCu8XasJ-uGoxbi_FShEOZS2SHk27YWHSe0X7vRZf-lpJnBp9JS2AR6YfqyMCdyuhvHQr6FkqJE15AjvURQf/w640-h452/Mary+007.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div>Dr. Soper agreed with Mr. Thompson, and at first thought it must have been caused by those bad oysters. But, when he moved his investigation to the island of Manhattan, and intensively interviewed the Warren family in their own home, he found they had eaten no oysters. George did note that there were eleven people in the Warren household that summer, but only six had developed typhoid. What was different about those six people? What had they done that the five other occupants had not done? Eventually, after hours of interviews, the family remembered a special treat they had eaten for desert one night; peaches. George realized now he had to locate the cook who had washed those peaches, even though everyone was certain, she had not developed typhoid fever.</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjie3oSF-ZxMF0bDHchB9apLwueSshHDRYvnw8qgKClAdLw4pT6UNu60BaCOnBtaa2mHmwvaNcNTPRAubinaNSTw2NyjFGBrq-93Ksx2HsqpxjiReum9RNE3P9Deodz_KOQalXCNbY6ZtOn/s400/Mary+009.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="329" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjie3oSF-ZxMF0bDHchB9apLwueSshHDRYvnw8qgKClAdLw4pT6UNu60BaCOnBtaa2mHmwvaNcNTPRAubinaNSTw2NyjFGBrq-93Ksx2HsqpxjiReum9RNE3P9Deodz_KOQalXCNbY6ZtOn/w526-h640/Mary+009.jpg" width="526" /></a></div><div>All the family knew about her was that she was Irish, was middle aged, had dark hair, and was named Mary. She had been provided by an employment agency, which had checked her letters of reference but had not kept them. So George found himself tracking “Mary” the cook through other Irish immigrant servants used by the same agency.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdVfxQAhGx5lJnAuC7TXGSMuPbeeztFVe5lmTl1PXQt4yRysEVWDnSA308ccgrY_OBSvDV9L99JR4rKHgQZpoYnv1BHrCSsK39smrfCZZcQzPD4Y7YpLR5R6nxP5yNOyhQsspF5AsjHVku/s300/Mary+041.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="282" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdVfxQAhGx5lJnAuC7TXGSMuPbeeztFVe5lmTl1PXQt4yRysEVWDnSA308ccgrY_OBSvDV9L99JR4rKHgQZpoYnv1BHrCSsK39smrfCZZcQzPD4Y7YpLR5R6nxP5yNOyhQsspF5AsjHVku/w602-h640/Mary+041.jpg" width="602" /></a></div><div>He ran into suspicion and secrecy, and had to travel to Boston and back, but eventually he discovered that her full name was Mary Mallon, and she had cooked for seven families over the last seven years. In those families 22 people had developed typhoid fever, and one young girl had died of it. Soper was now certain he had found a carrier for typhoid, something that been only a theory up to then; Which explains why Dr. Soper was so excited when he found Mary, working as a cook for Mr. Walter Bowen and his family, on Park Avenue.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEislBct-FxYy3ud5utchdkS4MsoBAYzXbZx_g3C6PfFj_EzdXjvKaCdMoEZ3OuB-u8HA-lsnTBu8lhHn52GNIWth0wiYm-xqR68ETabWL_bkf02VFzZDBuThjkbjGdzE9PmhfVWoj6A9Ie_/s410/Mary+034.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="410" data-original-width="314" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEislBct-FxYy3ud5utchdkS4MsoBAYzXbZx_g3C6PfFj_EzdXjvKaCdMoEZ3OuB-u8HA-lsnTBu8lhHn52GNIWth0wiYm-xqR68ETabWL_bkf02VFzZDBuThjkbjGdzE9PmhfVWoj6A9Ie_/w490-h640/Mary+034.jpg" width="490" /></a></div><div>Soper appeared before Mary (above) in the Bowen kitchen and, according to himself, "I was as diplomatic as possible, but I had to say I suspected her of making people sick and I wanted specimens of her urine, feces and blood.” Sounds very diplomatic to me. Mary would later claim that Soper also told her he was going to write a book about her and offered to split the royalties with her. But whether such a deal was offered or not, Mary’s reaction was swift and definitive. According to Soper, “She seized a carving fork and advanced in my direction.” Soper says he ran from the house, feeling lucky to have escaped.</div><div><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310561276172984082" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCWhDiRXLHyEzlsCy6xdyu1yiennnbslkRLazJysXhsY-Mxfbg4kbWwR-q8TJQ4XlRYutiPpYE5TF2vuMB6CVqZjLAa3y3IfbinM8QPC5iZ3jtEGQMncX3RgbVVaxgmCrejpg_QOypDdh_/s400/how_to_murder_cas_liv.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 318px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" />And to be honest, I do not blame Mary Malone. A strange man has approached her and asked for a sample of her bodily fluids. And worse, he had then accused her of being the original Typhoid Mary. Which she was.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7QdWZWsVM1_0iSYoSdTH6_RJBZHrX_MovF7eQo1RJVOerqDP2b2nad8SqLpX0T8ZNCCwujr3XAb_81wkgyWpQx33piB7CjidJAlSMoAwKG1jC9W7jbATCB0PIGv1EsCxHQ6FsobltuJkc/s400/Mary+008.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="258" data-original-width="400" height="412" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7QdWZWsVM1_0iSYoSdTH6_RJBZHrX_MovF7eQo1RJVOerqDP2b2nad8SqLpX0T8ZNCCwujr3XAb_81wkgyWpQx33piB7CjidJAlSMoAwKG1jC9W7jbATCB0PIGv1EsCxHQ6FsobltuJkc/w640-h412/Mary+008.jpg" width="640" /></a></div></div><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">- 30 –</span></p>Kimit Mustonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03809428003905885379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5034791890201777099.post-67452624245953394952024-03-13T09:00:00.009-04:002024-03-13T09:00:00.145-04:00HOLY TOLEDO - FIGHTING OVER SWAMPLAND<p> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhycilYsZoXK9UuwTZ7nI2Adk11zzbzmzC0qrICQuri51IzM2FITXIV-0IkvsgTlocqIyO7BMbo0I5Y-RbTe1MdKE9NPRKuPOJehRuTrt8fMmjMOh28p37EyO5aKXmv72NWD0J0uv5s4mxZ/s774/AA+003+%25282%2529.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="445" data-original-width="774" height="368" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhycilYsZoXK9UuwTZ7nI2Adk11zzbzmzC0qrICQuri51IzM2FITXIV-0IkvsgTlocqIyO7BMbo0I5Y-RbTe1MdKE9NPRKuPOJehRuTrt8fMmjMOh28p37EyO5aKXmv72NWD0J0uv5s4mxZ/w640-h368/AA+003+%25282%2529.png" width="640" /></a></p><p>I would say 1835 was, like most years, a revolutionary year in America. North of the Rio Grande pro-slavery gringo emigrants rebelled against Mexican anti-slavery laws. In Boston, five thousand white supremacists broke into a meeting of the Anti-Slavery Society, and dragged abolitionist William Lloyd Garrison through the streets at the end of a rope (above, center).</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqbcNgSJSR1Tiqvx-XkV-_rHarU5j51ViEqTlF4o-by0CwfrYSYuvgzXoEYavuWSsrjC5Tf7mLamb3NpEBKZJy6L64cNZdYBjG-2Ki7Rp0Rodo3ySINWAdvxPkRs0Ke1qjXOjCC5wjVmLU/s1280/AA+002_LI+%25282%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqbcNgSJSR1Tiqvx-XkV-_rHarU5j51ViEqTlF4o-by0CwfrYSYuvgzXoEYavuWSsrjC5Tf7mLamb3NpEBKZJy6L64cNZdYBjG-2Ki7Rp0Rodo3ySINWAdvxPkRs0Ke1qjXOjCC5wjVmLU/w640-h360/AA+002_LI+%25282%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p> In South Carolina 36 slaves and one 60 year old free-black carpenter were hanged for allegedly organizing a slave revolt (above). Meanwhile, far to the north, along the shores of Lake Erie, free whites did their very best to start a civil war over possession of 268 square miles of swamp known as “The Toledo Strip”.</p><div dir="ltr" trbidi="on"><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRRnI3FecrvwLRA_3O7Ts2GOHyklbn4x97TuacCGvwtXCgN4uBHizQtFJgdq2f4iBRx7qdqK050jl4ZkrL-Cw2Ylj7-7O79Oqatr8T8zb8xqUULcim4xT_tQLGEZN8GIT9CukwFHkuk8M/s1600/holy+toledo+11.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRRnI3FecrvwLRA_3O7Ts2GOHyklbn4x97TuacCGvwtXCgN4uBHizQtFJgdq2f4iBRx7qdqK050jl4ZkrL-Cw2Ylj7-7O79Oqatr8T8zb8xqUULcim4xT_tQLGEZN8GIT9CukwFHkuk8M/s640/holy+toledo+11.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>In truth, the Great Black Swamp was what film maker Alfred Hitchcock would call a "magoffin'. It was not what people were really fighting over, even though it was what people said they were fighting over. It was not even much of a swamp by Louisiana standards.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnIRKA1E4ZYIpwmg6uroqErkfixz71JMmyLRaIumcgWCJKq67-vC_9O4lo1b70Cm8ajwelPpobRTcYAvAhrIgw3Vm-t8lwT_YCQFQLVgkm9YOolP7s7fbz7TMhyphenhyphenvKaRYzndXxZP6THimPy/s520/AA+013+%25282%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="447" data-original-width="520" height="550" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnIRKA1E4ZYIpwmg6uroqErkfixz71JMmyLRaIumcgWCJKq67-vC_9O4lo1b70Cm8ajwelPpobRTcYAvAhrIgw3Vm-t8lwT_YCQFQLVgkm9YOolP7s7fbz7TMhyphenhyphenvKaRYzndXxZP6THimPy/w640-h550/AA+013+%25282%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div>It was great only because it occupied a swath of land 40 miles wide and 120 miles long, in the northwest corner the new state of Ohio – which was a little far north for a swamp.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9K4yHjL4opbI7xVulvTjCW1ijYBq12ROydsJ05c3qlFWypk5pS7vl09n_NgHqrq8Z9LB0xw2mP-pOAWqwLX6YWINY0g9F80aJRN_-cbUsXwP0CvQC9OgGowEHoNaV4wfnlcY5XDfvWD7S/s999/AA+018.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="664" data-original-width="999" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9K4yHjL4opbI7xVulvTjCW1ijYBq12ROydsJ05c3qlFWypk5pS7vl09n_NgHqrq8Z9LB0xw2mP-pOAWqwLX6YWINY0g9F80aJRN_-cbUsXwP0CvQC9OgGowEHoNaV4wfnlcY5XDfvWD7S/w640-h426/AA+018.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div>It was a remnant of the ice ages, a collection of ponds and marshes interspersed with drumlins, all filled and drained by the 130 mile long Maumee River, which rose from the high ground around Fort Wayne, Indiana and fed into Lake Erie. It's only claim to fame was that it formed a natural barrier between the state of Ohio and the territory of Michigan. The Great Black Swamp provided a bumper crop of mosquitoes each summer, and they, and the malaria they carried, made life difficult for any intrepid surveyors who might set up their theodolites upon such soggy ground.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4YLTpxWdgB5so0Joo_9zWmgkyc6VtQJko_E36BibsvOmGX5fnV9Ekq7bjqGXJvIi2D695bFPxP7g_PW4Ywe57potQV1TwJDUskllM_GrzOYWWSbBPZZ36P0inJof6_438O3N1VMkvRk06/s300/AA+009_LI.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="251" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4YLTpxWdgB5so0Joo_9zWmgkyc6VtQJko_E36BibsvOmGX5fnV9Ekq7bjqGXJvIi2D695bFPxP7g_PW4Ywe57potQV1TwJDUskllM_GrzOYWWSbBPZZ36P0inJof6_438O3N1VMkvRk06/w535-h640/AA+009_LI.jpg" width="535" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The first real attempt to draw the border through this "mish marsh" was made in 1817, when Former Ohio Territorial Governor and U.S. Surveyor General Edward Tiffin (above), hired surveyor William Harris to mark the southern boundary of the new Michigan Territory.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT2sJY6Bs28KaZWee2gqPqWZw3MOBL_GL6N21g0tfeQ38ySQns1StNBEfxSbvXmAaLt_B97XUhi6ae1-uGv_1csNuYi0vu9lARgOmJZ8L0CAL7MMbGCEdE59HkbKZEaaK3AcFz8DsHOI8Y/s430/AA+019.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="326" data-original-width="430" height="486" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT2sJY6Bs28KaZWee2gqPqWZw3MOBL_GL6N21g0tfeQ38ySQns1StNBEfxSbvXmAaLt_B97XUhi6ae1-uGv_1csNuYi0vu9lARgOmJZ8L0CAL7MMbGCEdE59HkbKZEaaK3AcFz8DsHOI8Y/w640-h486/AA+019.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">According to the “Harris Line” the mouth of the Maumee River was in Michigan, and just blow the northern edge of the swamp. In 1818 Ohio responded by hiring John Fulton to survey the border, which he found five miles further north, avoiding the swamp by going above it. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWzwKgiwVR_jBA7TKkJeamgaTIqkUrHVz9BPKZjw9Kee9i2UQx8T6J_hHoCSmHTy6ObaK-TkA-fAzP_3mAqzdJt9izm63VjaHy6U9UfXF5p_N0Hk2A18HV_VBu5mnPY3GHliBJVX4rd2WT/s660/AA+003+%25282%2529.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="200" data-original-width="660" height="194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWzwKgiwVR_jBA7TKkJeamgaTIqkUrHVz9BPKZjw9Kee9i2UQx8T6J_hHoCSmHTy6ObaK-TkA-fAzP_3mAqzdJt9izm63VjaHy6U9UfXF5p_N0Hk2A18HV_VBu5mnPY3GHliBJVX4rd2WT/w640-h194/AA+003+%25282%2529.png" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Taken together the two lines bracketed the head of Great Black Swamp. And while the desire of each surveyor to avoid all those mosquitoes was understandable, the residents of Ohio and Michigan were confused as to where the border between them actually lay. They appealed to Washington, D.C. But abiding by the political rule that whatever you do will make somebody angry, the Federal politicians decided to do nothing. After all, nobody would fight for ownership of a swamp.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghF0Tyg2SGgFlnnL-qBI38Qk4LJ_WsOC9XZgYkO_yNkGnt9OwEjfljPE-2vktDHSw32srjY1EcjA3Lhyphenhyphen_AJcjSdUZKfVGOBMZHHV75o-zAS1A_iUvkOp-k09-b6-8yCZIQJ1zX6U98pUvj/s478/AA+023.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="250" data-original-width="478" height="334" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghF0Tyg2SGgFlnnL-qBI38Qk4LJ_WsOC9XZgYkO_yNkGnt9OwEjfljPE-2vktDHSw32srjY1EcjA3Lhyphenhyphen_AJcjSdUZKfVGOBMZHHV75o-zAS1A_iUvkOp-k09-b6-8yCZIQJ1zX6U98pUvj/w640-h334/AA+023.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div>Then in 1825 the Erie Canal (above) opened, connecting the port of New York City with the Great Lakes. It proved to be such an economic revolution that plans were immediately drawn up for a port at the mouth of the Maumee River, and a canal past the swamp to high ground at Fort Wayne, Indiana - Hoosier statehood having been granted in 1816. The dreamers then envisioned a canal from Fort Wayne southwest to the head of navigation on the Wabash River, at Lafayette. From there boats could carry the bounty of Hoosier farms to the Ohio River, thence to the Mississippi, New Orleans and the world. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheVm9iEDszAeVWJasQsaPR4CcBYExjBpBz-NiuKpK4c17ESeuuLRXghoZsJTKTq12ucFpwjlIexnAx7Bw6fRM6xItDKSTXQe3LF0U5lDeaN7jvUq2mbfJVjyFwxxtH6vmldUh1mAKmwqOR/s1614/AA+006.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="937" data-original-width="1614" height="372" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheVm9iEDszAeVWJasQsaPR4CcBYExjBpBz-NiuKpK4c17ESeuuLRXghoZsJTKTq12ucFpwjlIexnAx7Bw6fRM6xItDKSTXQe3LF0U5lDeaN7jvUq2mbfJVjyFwxxtH6vmldUh1mAKmwqOR/w640-h372/AA+006.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div>Those canals would make the port at Toledo (above, which had been established at the mouth of the Maumee River) as the hub of transportation for the entire center of the continent. A Toledo lawyer, John Fitch, noted that already it was the general opinion that “no place on the lake except Buffalo will rival it.” </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9Tz_Tr1_FOcQhypgchs-5lbNThm_GlZSG9EoDFP_dD7X-oLWrM9iJaSaNWa9M9gLcgLSH9ybmUTaAT-QSPg4NoPK5smhh9e5UAKvz0ktRXGQMTi6DcMP8xQzGcxmftCglHH8Ziu7N5kJO/s762/AA+003+%25282%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="762" height="420" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9Tz_Tr1_FOcQhypgchs-5lbNThm_GlZSG9EoDFP_dD7X-oLWrM9iJaSaNWa9M9gLcgLSH9ybmUTaAT-QSPg4NoPK5smhh9e5UAKvz0ktRXGQMTi6DcMP8xQzGcxmftCglHH8Ziu7N5kJO/w640-h420/AA+003+%25282%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div>Michigan politicians became convinced Ohio politicians were plotting to steal Toledo, Michigan from them. Which was true. And Ohio politicians found they could raise money and votes by denouncing the thieves from Michigan. Whereupon the wolverine con men copied the buckeye conmen. And things quickly escalated.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLCz-Y3Ul4ISkMv7bfVu_sUUyFKXuAFBE37lPg9aYtzTdUZm-xneooC1Q0unEucOE_X-ohnpKT-Ulx5gQQFgCZTCXhh9AFArEyTNgqNuRTNzh4g5SlAxtJjsufEFRqgDfuo9r5oLguMgPx/s1778/AA+003+%25282%2529.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1778" data-original-width="1302" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLCz-Y3Ul4ISkMv7bfVu_sUUyFKXuAFBE37lPg9aYtzTdUZm-xneooC1Q0unEucOE_X-ohnpKT-Ulx5gQQFgCZTCXhh9AFArEyTNgqNuRTNzh4g5SlAxtJjsufEFRqgDfuo9r5oLguMgPx/w468-h640/AA+003+%25282%2529.png" width="468" /></a></div><div>The politics finally solidified when hot-headed 23 year old Stephen Thompson Mason (above) was appointed <span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;"><span style="font-family: times;">territorial secretary and acting governor of Michigan </span></span>Territory. He was a gift from President Andrew Jackson, a man who appreciated hot heads.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9uTi6AKFqthyoHnFhQqHzVrnl2X58EGv9pi_SYVFR8UX7TVTXaI8HaFExrs2MwP8mGseCrLg-pMPQ2DDnCdofyC3Cqy_iC1i13liGZN-wJ0YGX0EICzWCRqUGtQqDrtn7h1540RcTclHx/s963/AA+003+%25283%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="741" data-original-width="963" height="492" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9uTi6AKFqthyoHnFhQqHzVrnl2X58EGv9pi_SYVFR8UX7TVTXaI8HaFExrs2MwP8mGseCrLg-pMPQ2DDnCdofyC3Cqy_iC1i13liGZN-wJ0YGX0EICzWCRqUGtQqDrtn7h1540RcTclHx/w640-h492/AA+003+%25283%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div>Mason (above, left, in the dark top hat) rallied his followers by saying, "...<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: times; letter-spacing: 0.8px;">we are on the side of justice…we cannot fail to maintain our rights against the encroachments of a powerful neighboring state.” And on 12 February, 1835, </span> Governor Mason issued the “Pains and Penalties Act”, making it illegal for a non-Michigan resident to enforce Ohio law in Toledo, Michigan Territory.</div></div><div dir="ltr" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNT4CfQPsUutGMeKqEU1xFUBJJoYFs-kOb_Uk2MEVxPg0Y0HGy9Qsk9iHBdpdE5hej99p12wHj_tH_d4ZPHUF3_baMC-tE8MXyjmc6bqbB18Boop9TPY2Lw4S8TezdXImpcsxvaXVwVIaw/s568/AA+025.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="568" data-original-width="417" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNT4CfQPsUutGMeKqEU1xFUBJJoYFs-kOb_Uk2MEVxPg0Y0HGy9Qsk9iHBdpdE5hej99p12wHj_tH_d4ZPHUF3_baMC-tE8MXyjmc6bqbB18Boop9TPY2Lw4S8TezdXImpcsxvaXVwVIaw/w470-h640/AA+025.jpg" width="470" /></a></div><div>The Cleveland, Ohio newspapers called the Michigan claim to Toledo “as absurd as it is ridiculous.” And on 23 February, the defiant Ohio General Assembly, playing to their own base, voted to “run the border” of the Fulton Line - meaning to mark it again as Toledo, Ohio, with stone posts that clearly said so. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTkqjV0vTV-46_fct-5t7_rXsrbFkK2xG5NytBWh1Jcn-UQb1SP1cf64bnYiQxz7gLQhtVKAnqP8TDNCJWq0ZkgzbJJ94ur9LghqahUuPaGzW_urkOWsu8jj6898872axqGn78ljFvMn8c/s1800/AA+027.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="909" data-original-width="1800" height="324" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTkqjV0vTV-46_fct-5t7_rXsrbFkK2xG5NytBWh1Jcn-UQb1SP1cf64bnYiQxz7gLQhtVKAnqP8TDNCJWq0ZkgzbJJ94ur9LghqahUuPaGzW_urkOWsu8jj6898872axqGn78ljFvMn8c/w640-h324/AA+027.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div>Then on April Fool’s day Michigan held elections in the Toledo Strip. One week later, on 6 April, Ohio held competing elections in the Toledo Strip. Somebody was going to have to disappoint their supporters.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi61yLCn8WCL1Feb-2YTTSq4-E9xVXwrbEWSg7MsWRdxblK3E0jQbUXdpykjW7ajP-JDfhmyvjTiuZCadt-PMoI-UJPqAnTmjzS_vr0QBZc8tWlHHyulzX6VulbieClr62oBW9rS4bXXSSR/s412/AA+031.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="412" data-original-width="322" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi61yLCn8WCL1Feb-2YTTSq4-E9xVXwrbEWSg7MsWRdxblK3E0jQbUXdpykjW7ajP-JDfhmyvjTiuZCadt-PMoI-UJPqAnTmjzS_vr0QBZc8tWlHHyulzX6VulbieClr62oBW9rS4bXXSSR/w500-h640/AA+031.png" width="500" /></a></div><div>Two days later a Michigan Country sheriff and an armed posse of 40 men rode into Toledo to enforce the Penalties Act. Several men snuck into the home of Benjamin Franklin Stickney (above), a major in the Ohio militia, who was either an “Ohio patriot” or a "Phio Nut" - depending on which side of the border you lived on. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk-6NyKiHZ-j4Q1ZRcnaMoAp7-KGBeg_82Vwr_PIfhzG4On_Cb67uR10oKYOrEHG0RqDljkimuHlKzPp1oG8Js49PmY7v_uh8Lp-86XdfahKdAeAqyKHhtUsAqM8mMkwocvDJ1CYgSMLc2/s1140/AA+012.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="798" data-original-width="1140" height="448" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk-6NyKiHZ-j4Q1ZRcnaMoAp7-KGBeg_82Vwr_PIfhzG4On_Cb67uR10oKYOrEHG0RqDljkimuHlKzPp1oG8Js49PmY7v_uh8Lp-86XdfahKdAeAqyKHhtUsAqM8mMkwocvDJ1CYgSMLc2/w640-h448/AA+012.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div>Now, even allowing for dysfunctional parenting, the level of strangeness displayed by Benjamin Stickney is staggering. This respected member of the Ohio community and one of the founders of Toledo, named his eldest son “Number One” and his younger son “Number Two”. Stickney also had a daughter, but we can just call her “Light Sleeper”.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGHX2j9aJuOqf1NQVLJt48zrgnObXeDgkLgEs6KfEFBZLVFcSuRtVSl3CGznwSuGatU70reiKDBwFWByjBJTU-QfQGRLKdoHjeM4dAz9zFB0ZiP0bF2Er3OkPQNaZUFDxx2CtpLds836dK/s700/AA+015.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="350" data-original-width="700" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGHX2j9aJuOqf1NQVLJt48zrgnObXeDgkLgEs6KfEFBZLVFcSuRtVSl3CGznwSuGatU70reiKDBwFWByjBJTU-QfQGRLKdoHjeM4dAz9zFB0ZiP0bF2Er3OkPQNaZUFDxx2CtpLds836dK/w640-h320/AA+015.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div>You see, on the night of 8 April, 1835, Miss Stickney was awakened by a noise, and stepped into the hall to investigate. A creeping Michigan deputy clamped a hand over the startled child’s mouth, and held her silent, lest she shout a warning to her father. Alas, Benjamin Stickney would not have heard her, as he was not at home. So two of his house guests were arrested and taken north for arraignment. Two days later they were released on bail. Or ransom, depending your state of residence and mind.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8HVvEROE2uqlDV6qOOO05fb-2CTAqKEP146jZFavn9oh3vWueNIRKsOTVBz3tk-9wRtG1TzDBO2w6lrsLBAYfEMRL4UPk0ifLc3akL10DmpQQasuCjh4lChyphenhyphenES26CrNik7upI8NibeImi/s1140/AA+024.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="798" data-original-width="1140" height="448" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8HVvEROE2uqlDV6qOOO05fb-2CTAqKEP146jZFavn9oh3vWueNIRKsOTVBz3tk-9wRtG1TzDBO2w6lrsLBAYfEMRL4UPk0ifLc3akL10DmpQQasuCjh4lChyphenhyphenES26CrNik7upI8NibeImi/w640-h448/AA+024.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div>In handbills and letters to Ohio newspapers Major Stickney inflated the posse to 300 men “armed with muskets and bayonets". He claimed the deputies had tried to gouge out his eyes (he wasn't there) and had “throttled” his daughter. He urged his fellow buckeyes to “turn out en masse to protect their northern border and restrain the savage barbarity of the hordes of the north.” You see, Major Stickney had a lot of money invested in Toledo, Ohio. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuZMEBVTqFM8IsLsFl16MV5YOFUQA-MMX-aCWghvgJxXjRdqTLyVKcNFAoSAcnWyCM4acj4T4f8bfy9Gnnp1mp9uONdBtNygUdUt32tqRfrsHS5xvoJnj73W0pbDOvcTtzXq-5ME2D_Pxs/s806/AA+004.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="806" data-original-width="515" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuZMEBVTqFM8IsLsFl16MV5YOFUQA-MMX-aCWghvgJxXjRdqTLyVKcNFAoSAcnWyCM4acj4T4f8bfy9Gnnp1mp9uONdBtNygUdUt32tqRfrsHS5xvoJnj73W0pbDOvcTtzXq-5ME2D_Pxs/w408-h640/AA+004.jpeg" width="408" /></a></div><div>Ohio Governor Robert Lucas (above), another Jackson Democrat, sent 40 men to guard his two surveyors "running" a new border line" - 29 year old Colonel Jonathan Emmerson Fletcher, and Colonel Sebried Dodge. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKWVy-2_xeKUemz7NtNZuyfhfdSdeWVsX5tZgsbr2JoKupKTqhUqwYOSxym_BDGEprlaoqNxmYutuWMT2HS0_ym5Mdci792MqatxIECkA-REM6kPabymQCGC3qryESDzXkZEGAZOsK0dp4/s1766/AA+009_LI+%25282%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1255" data-original-width="1766" height="454" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKWVy-2_xeKUemz7NtNZuyfhfdSdeWVsX5tZgsbr2JoKupKTqhUqwYOSxym_BDGEprlaoqNxmYutuWMT2HS0_ym5Mdci792MqatxIECkA-REM6kPabymQCGC3qryESDzXkZEGAZOsK0dp4/w640-h454/AA+009_LI+%25282%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div>The governor then went further and ordered the 100,000 members of the state militia to assemble in the tiny town of Perryville, Ohio (above), just up the Maumee River from Toledo. Only 10,000 actually responded, and most of them never got to Perryville, because they got lost in the swamp.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPKAjXtRn_4Y6qtmwQUCeakYmvp9EwoxTJaZYtgIN7kRwJQ_bv_4PTZPrv6QBk4oxE8ZcLF8_sgqfwjMFRFSzM1pEuWyG-OqErDGkpDLddUoqq9_K4ctWA_WwAuaPjMiDow_f8ZIegwX6V/s2048/AA+003+%25284%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1464" data-original-width="2048" height="458" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPKAjXtRn_4Y6qtmwQUCeakYmvp9EwoxTJaZYtgIN7kRwJQ_bv_4PTZPrv6QBk4oxE8ZcLF8_sgqfwjMFRFSzM1pEuWyG-OqErDGkpDLddUoqq9_K4ctWA_WwAuaPjMiDow_f8ZIegwX6V/w640-h458/AA+003+%25284%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Meanwhile on Sunday, 21 April 1835, a 30 man Michigan posse caught the Ohio “line runners” relaxing in camp at a cross roads bordering a field owned by Michigan Militia Colonel Eli Phillips (above). Most of the buckeyes broke for the woods and escaped, but nine were caught in the open. And when the badgers fired a volley over their heads the buckeyes wisely surrendered. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaKB3evJJqMl3vpaflI36ZXSg58lQKvyml2fDn4CTgO7lbyPU_ve15TUD21oGIaB1UcuZ6NHmicBH1XqoTettDmgL3kYuLBcDV2sQY_xR-2n0LlevKI5QvY02aqmjtvBCcL0E1k_mG_nLz/s1024/AA+002_LI.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="767" data-original-width="1024" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaKB3evJJqMl3vpaflI36ZXSg58lQKvyml2fDn4CTgO7lbyPU_ve15TUD21oGIaB1UcuZ6NHmicBH1XqoTettDmgL3kYuLBcDV2sQY_xR-2n0LlevKI5QvY02aqmjtvBCcL0E1k_mG_nLz/w640-h480/AA+002_LI.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">All nine were arrested for violating the “Pains and Penalties Act”. And on Monday morning six were granted bail and two more were released with just a warning to behave. The only Ohioan who remained in jail was Jonathan Fletcher, the hot headed surveyor, who refused to post bail “on principle.” In the annals of Michigan this encounter was memorialized as the “Battle of Phillip’s Corner” (above). </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwMMDTvW4pUDdqQxNNwl1BlFDIZrw5r-YfN9287XBesnVFrCfB6969ZvvD1uZXw8vvfVXx80LmiKmCgXGfbq3SeuOwbd4ZjRIUyD0NGsD7JbLtlWPy9o4fgcgcMa0nRFTqLAByoPzGjlo8W5lcb55xVbMKD16MWSIIlraXYcxA739NO13mLl6xHJ8Ydw/s747/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(2).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="747" data-original-width="598" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwMMDTvW4pUDdqQxNNwl1BlFDIZrw5r-YfN9287XBesnVFrCfB6969ZvvD1uZXw8vvfVXx80LmiKmCgXGfbq3SeuOwbd4ZjRIUyD0NGsD7JbLtlWPy9o4fgcgcMa0nRFTqLAByoPzGjlo8W5lcb55xVbMKD16MWSIIlraXYcxA739NO13mLl6xHJ8Ydw/w512-h640/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(2).jpg" width="512" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The whiff of gunpowder brought a temporary degree of sanity back to "Boy Governor" who was not really a governor. Thomas Mason, suddenly discovered he was pretty far out on a political limb. And in the spirit of good will he temporarily suspended enforcement of his Pains and Penalties Act. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV-LiZP1J6dNjzPh5BuXhx6zVXi59yDU_bxHEPIk-de7QhXLoe82rtxLWwC4vAxWUacQdmxYF7Pm6j7xZ8Zw5eauZzaxzmFMJsT9zPwB8y1ju97gb2gED9CnTzJ9gBJbJylogoaGXMWsVt/s516/AA+013+%25282%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="205" data-original-width="516" height="254" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV-LiZP1J6dNjzPh5BuXhx6zVXi59yDU_bxHEPIk-de7QhXLoe82rtxLWwC4vAxWUacQdmxYF7Pm6j7xZ8Zw5eauZzaxzmFMJsT9zPwB8y1ju97gb2gED9CnTzJ9gBJbJylogoaGXMWsVt/w640-h254/AA+013+%25282%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">But now it was the Ohio legislature’s turn to appease their base. Kidnapping was already illegal in Ohio, but buckeye politicians now felt it necessary to pass a new law providing hard labor for kidnapping anyone from Ohio. And they made Toledo (above) the capital of a new Ohio county.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhafE8C6osUMXEPJQP0cMK2eKM6j8cR8b-NHcM0P9D2rHE6O2CYX9cFBvHky7AEgkAalsRScjdimL2QjSfpOAuYGlZ0AESUpy93AiOHcJzp9T_ksGh18Ubhw-o53V6gKRFsbd6dTry73_Sb/s2048/AA+003+%25283%2529_LI.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1142" data-original-width="2048" height="356" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhafE8C6osUMXEPJQP0cMK2eKM6j8cR8b-NHcM0P9D2rHE6O2CYX9cFBvHky7AEgkAalsRScjdimL2QjSfpOAuYGlZ0AESUpy93AiOHcJzp9T_ksGh18Ubhw-o53V6gKRFsbd6dTry73_Sb/w640-h356/AA+003+%25283%2529_LI.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div>In Toledo one observer noted “Men (were) galloping about – guns getting ready – wagons being filled with people and hurrying off, and everybody in commotion “ The little town of just 1,250 citizens had become a magnet for every nut case, political hot head and pugnacious drifter in the old Northwest Territories, looking for a fight.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk8tlFZPyW7AcRyYF-83a_JBh4p4AKqtfLOhcUJO2W_x91AhjlskYrw7yxOB1sYJ84dO_EWQJJURhxcc_b_tXtkmNwZ9I2zwz_jlrSsofQP7p6XQcqdxJ5lcSUClPX2jQHf3T2Df-strhn/s900/AA+023.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="756" data-original-width="900" height="538" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk8tlFZPyW7AcRyYF-83a_JBh4p4AKqtfLOhcUJO2W_x91AhjlskYrw7yxOB1sYJ84dO_EWQJJURhxcc_b_tXtkmNwZ9I2zwz_jlrSsofQP7p6XQcqdxJ5lcSUClPX2jQHf3T2Df-strhn/w640-h538/AA+023.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div> In July, two Michigan deputies tried to hold an auction of property seized for non payment of Michigan taxes, and a gang of Ohio “patriots”, led by Number Two Strikney, broke up the auction. So, on 12 July 1835 a Michigan arrest warrant was issued for the son-of-a-patriot, for disturbing the peace. Number Two, upon learning of the warrant, sent a message to the Michigan Sheriff to stay out of Toledo, Ohio, if he wanted to live.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNYhiyN6gKKADb5EvhNr4MmqDMZIbfe7KETVLK2vl3NQxO-bPH4zXSpJwW6K6OLbBeDbGVHo4NGmne9tJgp0h-p-AjxCo3wLAZpEstXQassQ9XdrPvtl1vLr3IoI-ZJZKkkI3rPDMsaAes/s761/AA+019+%25282%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="421" data-original-width="761" height="354" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNYhiyN6gKKADb5EvhNr4MmqDMZIbfe7KETVLK2vl3NQxO-bPH4zXSpJwW6K6OLbBeDbGVHo4NGmne9tJgp0h-p-AjxCo3wLAZpEstXQassQ9XdrPvtl1vLr3IoI-ZJZKkkI3rPDMsaAes/w640-h354/AA+019+%25282%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div>That threat set Michigan Governor Mason off again. He ordered 250 men into Toledo, under Deputy Sheriff Joseph Wood, to arrest Number Two and his "gang". Most of the Ohio “patriots” ran safely for the Maumee River border, but Number Two didn’t make it. </div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTs8-Z_5pQF0mja02N9kGrfjO1Wv4FPaUvO-cxIaBtpcM1x-_v_GjRMdmpXSP1s6PS926eg7vquYAgD312FbuSvASQBrnTY3wtGozZzcAtho5awkIk5-iKRK5JIbDkip6WTUyt1wvKlaw6/s798/AA+019.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="722" data-original-width="798" height="580" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTs8-Z_5pQF0mja02N9kGrfjO1Wv4FPaUvO-cxIaBtpcM1x-_v_GjRMdmpXSP1s6PS926eg7vquYAgD312FbuSvASQBrnTY3wtGozZzcAtho5awkIk5-iKRK5JIbDkip6WTUyt1wvKlaw6/w640-h580/AA+019.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div dir="ltr" trbidi="on">When Sheriff Wood physically grabbed Number Two, he pulled what in Ohio was called a pen knife and in Michigan was described as “a dirk”. Whatever the size of the blade, “Two” stabbed the sheriff in the leg and then disappeared across the Maumee River (below). </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgob6ntE8T0kI8LREZ3SRv7Vb9ev0s3WKi0zS09DrpxXyvQ6IIdwwrmK9q6f7qyiVRWEYp08QTYWNIjeyM_ffiCQGdE5DHm04IfdBiScGTD0DoyrixmDxqqeth5aSogUQ1zRoEovqndia0z/s1280/AA+010+%25282%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="850" data-original-width="1280" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgob6ntE8T0kI8LREZ3SRv7Vb9ev0s3WKi0zS09DrpxXyvQ6IIdwwrmK9q6f7qyiVRWEYp08QTYWNIjeyM_ffiCQGdE5DHm04IfdBiScGTD0DoyrixmDxqqeth5aSogUQ1zRoEovqndia0z/w640-h426/AA+010+%25282%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div dir="ltr" trbidi="on">The wound was minor and the sheriff was able to ride home that night, having paused to finally arrest Number Two’s father, the infamous Major Stickney, and drag him back to Michigan, tied to the back of a horse. But before leaving town the Michiganders also smashed the offices of the pro-Ohio Toledo Gazette, behaving, claimed the paper, worse than an “Algerian robbery or Turkish persecution.” It seemed the residents were finally running short of hyperbole. What was left but gunpowder?</div><div dir="ltr" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4YpgKimXxE92NNo4i7eE1Qv9FTK6j4UakZ9CXGYuaa_j_diqGgj4SMuPkUvu6UWaHuO27qc7UZUvBg3JVcqmThs155TpIkF0paFUGw5GX3tlixbxGGmhCA5dUdEvVzmFLNyppfFv9jvcD/s2048/AA+002.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1688" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4YpgKimXxE92NNo4i7eE1Qv9FTK6j4UakZ9CXGYuaa_j_diqGgj4SMuPkUvu6UWaHuO27qc7UZUvBg3JVcqmThs155TpIkF0paFUGw5GX3tlixbxGGmhCA5dUdEvVzmFLNyppfFv9jvcD/w528-h640/AA+002.jpg" width="528" /></a></div><div>It was at this point that Andrew Jackson finally stepped in. How dare these common political jackasses act as if they were by God Andrew Jackson himself! On 29 August, 1835 the President removed Mason as governor of Michigan Territory. Party leaders let it be known that Michigan would only be allowed to become a state until they accepted that Toledo was a town in Ohio. It was a bitter pill for the Badger rabble to swallow, particularly after all that rabble rousing. But in that instant the heat seeped out of the issue.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHZU02Nvo_9Gj9CiCIDowYcQVK-4yJUYrL1_mbE-3IyXTWXHDNkaFyvbH00WjQOdbMg4KO4EuGbsp1BwXMKKtkL2BZs4YJ_9J0SBxPVjRKpanaxUI_EAN37ZQD17of8AnficEq5PmIUEkZ/s490/AA+019.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="490" data-original-width="382" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHZU02Nvo_9Gj9CiCIDowYcQVK-4yJUYrL1_mbE-3IyXTWXHDNkaFyvbH00WjQOdbMg4KO4EuGbsp1BwXMKKtkL2BZs4YJ_9J0SBxPVjRKpanaxUI_EAN37ZQD17of8AnficEq5PmIUEkZ/w498-h640/AA+019.jpg" width="498" /></a></div><div>As a sop for hurt badger feelings, the federal government granted Michigan the additional territory known as the Upper Peninsula. Michigan was finally admitted into the union as a state, sans Toledo, on 26 January, 1837.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOg56Xq9ABZfx9A0u-t0NrD5YkVDJSoI-88sFSOi7-IyA3PlftAVS-QPGmrsBx73vZQ_bKdFVnh4ELQ7EW-N_3c_Uh654LaH35C4eCr7nvYswaQQNwNUrpbzbPI4g-fQsmmZKJ9tOh1skO/s500/AA+021.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="375" data-original-width="500" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOg56Xq9ABZfx9A0u-t0NrD5YkVDJSoI-88sFSOi7-IyA3PlftAVS-QPGmrsBx73vZQ_bKdFVnh4ELQ7EW-N_3c_Uh654LaH35C4eCr7nvYswaQQNwNUrpbzbPI4g-fQsmmZKJ9tOh1skO/w640-h480/AA+021.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div>So Ohio won. The canals were dug, and the buckeyes benefited from the taxes paid by the port at the mouth of the Maumee River. In 1842 1,578 barrels of flour and 12,976 bushels of wheat were shipped through Toledo, and taxed by Ohio. By 1852 the totals were a quarter million barrels of flour and almost two million bushels of wheat. </div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmcEr4G6j5qMYBjuqL6ADqMnDxqnvM8KhHduwfeVFLWemvFTYKZoI1v7sPPAf9XLpCltMUYnEGqIPGMQrKWuwSPgxz3iO5G_jnGR0gvV4eVs5M7m6VOuRbcqIB7aIWjVuq8yvX6uPdxVGT/s409/AA+023.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="409" data-original-width="385" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmcEr4G6j5qMYBjuqL6ADqMnDxqnvM8KhHduwfeVFLWemvFTYKZoI1v7sPPAf9XLpCltMUYnEGqIPGMQrKWuwSPgxz3iO5G_jnGR0gvV4eVs5M7m6VOuRbcqIB7aIWjVuq8yvX6uPdxVGT/w602-h640/AA+023.jpg" width="602" /></a></div><div dir="ltr" trbidi="on">But Toledo did not become the transportation hub for the Midwest, because canal technology was superseded by the railroads, and Chicago superseded Toledo; which the Ohio patriots might have predicted in 1835 if they had calmed down and calmly thought about it for a few moments.</div><div dir="ltr" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkPlWnGUjMCyxZYQUU8Wz_yRb4hcclopwVVQp5AVx2uBpYiRF4cMCANywQ5wigAc8UAeOcptQfjce_q5rhWdqvBvCWouaUY9OBbHWjRpoI3YmPpFYowe5_gqMkB3nV0U4ZYS5lvqvJitA0/s550/AA+013+%25282%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="362" data-original-width="550" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkPlWnGUjMCyxZYQUU8Wz_yRb4hcclopwVVQp5AVx2uBpYiRF4cMCANywQ5wigAc8UAeOcptQfjce_q5rhWdqvBvCWouaUY9OBbHWjRpoI3YmPpFYowe5_gqMkB3nV0U4ZYS5lvqvJitA0/w640-h422/AA+013+%25282%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div>Meanwhile, in 1844, another party of surveyors were investigating and staking out the second place prize for Michigan, the Upper Peninsula, when they found their compasses spinning wildly. This was caused by one of the largest concentrations of iron ore ever found on the planet Earth, which was surrounded by one of the largest concentrations of copper ore ever found on the Earth. </div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0iVHxak5xTQ6yXqtRyEyQgSTRz254UlgFia_3JcosDcgBD39trEuh2-M2Z6reoc6d8u40_oywiewbu5g74uXmj2jGK2pt1-Hls-HUmKtwPu_c1w2vCUcyl-NeSaAyMP6TKDacN4q1oI-_/s2048/AA+024.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1266" data-original-width="2048" height="396" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0iVHxak5xTQ6yXqtRyEyQgSTRz254UlgFia_3JcosDcgBD39trEuh2-M2Z6reoc6d8u40_oywiewbu5g74uXmj2jGK2pt1-Hls-HUmKtwPu_c1w2vCUcyl-NeSaAyMP6TKDacN4q1oI-_/w640-h396/AA+024.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div dir="ltr" trbidi="on">Beginning in 1847 and continuing over the next one hundred and fifty years, over a billion tons of iron and several billion tons of copper were removed from those hills. It is figured 85% of all the steel which allowed America to win World War II came from iron stripped out of those hills. None of the Michigan or Ohio patriots of 1835 could have predicted that. </div><div dir="ltr" trbidi="on"><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUfpq_BXqlyW-R4STtPOQ6Z7RNgRAe0ndW_G5yrIH19sNPmmJgF7Ybg4hy6meaEsSyic7afWGg_fVmVvud5ZRQWTJ0MVyXEqHm0C-T-kpgCzDlXHMypMXGI8qPiIDRy3CDHFLMaoDLXeY/s1600/20050263.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="496" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUfpq_BXqlyW-R4STtPOQ6Z7RNgRAe0ndW_G5yrIH19sNPmmJgF7Ybg4hy6meaEsSyic7afWGg_fVmVvud5ZRQWTJ0MVyXEqHm0C-T-kpgCzDlXHMypMXGI8qPiIDRy3CDHFLMaoDLXeY/s640/20050263.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>The truth was the future contained a bounty beyond the imagination of the patriots who willing to kill each other in 1835, all for possession of a swamp – and not a great swamp at that. It has long since been drained for farmland. It is remains a basic rule of human history - That which people are willing to murder for today, they may consider worthless tomorrow. Folks, you might remember that rule, next time a hot head starts calling for a war. Stop and think before you start shooting. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU5_L7_DX7zR17UZ99Zq6JIEsFfEdhYPaTXq9HoQnikswXlhsp7ngYclk51JlqqGVwUcZRZEJDb6pPF0vImeKsa8j6eSdy78rgnrYqgMI1v1tRN1AVVR7rKTpv4DDb_j_fEpYf-Bnns9s/s1600/Moore165.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="441" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU5_L7_DX7zR17UZ99Zq6JIEsFfEdhYPaTXq9HoQnikswXlhsp7ngYclk51JlqqGVwUcZRZEJDb6pPF0vImeKsa8j6eSdy78rgnrYqgMI1v1tRN1AVVR7rKTpv4DDb_j_fEpYf-Bnns9s/s640/Moore165.jpg" width="640" /></a></div></div><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">- 30 -</span> </p>Kimit Mustonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03809428003905885379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5034791890201777099.post-22511222254432991742024-03-12T09:00:00.011-04:002024-03-12T09:00:00.126-04:00OH, HENRY!<p> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4onrjanoo0TGSGZ6GjF2j-QlhsCEtWOcSQm41r0fODAWXMSTeRMI-RqS2sqMCtmjUC1fRDukv7nFWtijPvPKmtIiKZ_RxEfF6sTxCacOLX3t1OvYgvtpAYacCJesJ5Y0TAgCdyvUfzCNOzzjNi70w_cuGcoRtN79-Ljrjoon-zQrTjt81PmPWPS2YIA/s1920/AA%20002.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4onrjanoo0TGSGZ6GjF2j-QlhsCEtWOcSQm41r0fODAWXMSTeRMI-RqS2sqMCtmjUC1fRDukv7nFWtijPvPKmtIiKZ_RxEfF6sTxCacOLX3t1OvYgvtpAYacCJesJ5Y0TAgCdyvUfzCNOzzjNi70w_cuGcoRtN79-Ljrjoon-zQrTjt81PmPWPS2YIA/w640-h360/AA%20002.jpg" width="640" /></a></p><p></p><span style="background-color: #f6f6f6; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I believe "anarchist" as a functional political label became passé with the invention of psychiatry. Of course it has stuck around as a vestigial etymological fossil, but any current criminal shrink can now vouch that the loonies who espouse anarchy (or libertarianism) are really pathological egotistical narcissists. There is no more "cause" there, than in the activities of "Oath Keeper" on</span><span style="background-color: #f6f6f6; font-family: times, "times new roman", serif;"> 6 January 2021. Just a desperate hunger for attention.</span><div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDqB6KZoR0j0CoB-Xqj1zKh_UBaYIf5rx63KkPY0YcjfeOPnHylwLBFUA72Hn2e7Yyo22dUHpzAvLbQgxzCdCCfXkWgJCkBQaJJzVtRidS8bK5LEG3cTIA7GJ12YRQ1RAAUZpx1zhtbbttk3q9vwkW32hca6Iv4IgZ7t4rdCzaFoizegiF-0KdQ2i-IA/s555/276251838_5763821563633023_8840554600327819649_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="555" data-original-width="428" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDqB6KZoR0j0CoB-Xqj1zKh_UBaYIf5rx63KkPY0YcjfeOPnHylwLBFUA72Hn2e7Yyo22dUHpzAvLbQgxzCdCCfXkWgJCkBQaJJzVtRidS8bK5LEG3cTIA7GJ12YRQ1RAAUZpx1zhtbbttk3q9vwkW32hca6Iv4IgZ7t4rdCzaFoizegiF-0KdQ2i-IA/w494-h640/276251838_5763821563633023_8840554600327819649_n.jpg" width="494" /></a></div></div><div><span style="background-color: #f6f6f6; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">As proof I now present you with the head of Emile Henri (above), who lost his head over the injustice he suffered because of another inarticulate Frenchman who sought to destroy the establishment and managed only to blow his nose at them.</span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtpX3m_2Bxzi2T4fgP32fHykOaQuaZ8wkKbcUXZnW1pJwPPH_fzPq3_AjIjHW28o3cWMVRk2rOZgT1P-_kAbK1HIvhPDhBwtWCke0qpIVr6UZh6mqbbFdeo5dtzwNyvSKe3cyD9NpEhJt8kg4DCaxhAr-UY1wFgO_8QICq9L8gLWBEuhKo5LuuwA4S-A/s510/AA%20009.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="510" data-original-width="349" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtpX3m_2Bxzi2T4fgP32fHykOaQuaZ8wkKbcUXZnW1pJwPPH_fzPq3_AjIjHW28o3cWMVRk2rOZgT1P-_kAbK1HIvhPDhBwtWCke0qpIVr6UZh6mqbbFdeo5dtzwNyvSKe3cyD9NpEhJt8kg4DCaxhAr-UY1wFgO_8QICq9L8gLWBEuhKo5LuuwA4S-A/w438-h640/AA%20009.jpg" width="438" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="background-color: #f6f6f6; clear: both; font-family: "trebuchet ms", trebuchet, verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></div><div style="background-color: #f6f6f6;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Everything about Auguste Vaillant (above) screams irony. He was a kin of Lee Harvey Oswald, a little man who wanted to be important, but lacked the necessary attention span. He claimed to be the leader of a socialist group which seems to have had only one regular member. Him. While waiting for the revolution he wa</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">s ludicrously </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">employed in sewing expensive handbags and wallets for the wealthy to carry their money around.</span></div><div style="background-color: #f6f6f6;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7Qw1P6vJcxpQULIBRACmTRGLMwFpO6M4YyjDrG1NzhVvfvdEm8EgKhuKExjFAjXGs7CJGFKMrEMe_rh28Iqh-BAuVoysojN05zaK8POu3inwQFeJYL0xKd-pIxWobDT7oJrjesuDxr5UEaASZbJN1XmoaVuZnnSs56Fq3RrQF8xGIJs-UNTT7w9N8xQ/s1712/Adams%20008.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1122" data-original-width="1712" height="420" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7Qw1P6vJcxpQULIBRACmTRGLMwFpO6M4YyjDrG1NzhVvfvdEm8EgKhuKExjFAjXGs7CJGFKMrEMe_rh28Iqh-BAuVoysojN05zaK8POu3inwQFeJYL0xKd-pIxWobDT7oJrjesuDxr5UEaASZbJN1XmoaVuZnnSs56Fq3RrQF8xGIJs-UNTT7w9N8xQ/w640-h420/Adams%20008.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: times, "times new roman", serif;">Concerned about justice for the poor, Vaillant had abandoned a wife and two children - leaving them in poverty - and then moved in with a deaf woman. For a political revolutionary to be living with a woman who could not hear his rants against capitalism passes into the realm of absurdity. </span></div></div><div style="background-color: #f6f6f6;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3qfbApjPz5wg3bW-G6d_VlrbEBwnmeTmBYlhqJTmOsU-5xUNXBlBl7dC8KtPgr7eoL63KEChNAV5QH4ZRlBPfjHvUtxKqPeYORsXqJItCzlAMbnh_bAjnxU-AweDkOOtgabWHk-k2WaaV64_j9EpIM31Fpj0sfm1QhXLHdFDWha0B7dxfCjOxnuifwg/s425/Adams%20002.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="388" data-original-width="425" height="584" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3qfbApjPz5wg3bW-G6d_VlrbEBwnmeTmBYlhqJTmOsU-5xUNXBlBl7dC8KtPgr7eoL63KEChNAV5QH4ZRlBPfjHvUtxKqPeYORsXqJItCzlAMbnh_bAjnxU-AweDkOOtgabWHk-k2WaaV64_j9EpIM31Fpj0sfm1QhXLHdFDWha0B7dxfCjOxnuifwg/w640-h584/Adams%20002.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: times, "times new roman", serif;">And that is where we find Auguste Vaillant on Saturday, 10 December, 1893 entering the public gallery above the Chamber of Deputies (above), the French congress, carrying a sauce pan bomb in his overcoat. Ce n'est pas ironique, c'est le plus absurde. </span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqbg-NOL8SXKMR_YwEmG_eRe-z02QvN4o0tmeqgcqLgkrgXAXZGDP8nB123oFfRb2gRum-3NlJBxSMTipJ0VWzjws-RaxdXZYndHfdsR_e3t7jRkmUDHL6PUBfoUcuTXLKoSG43R8GDFwtvBBpOTMQphHMqqiLrn6nVxmFkWTlWFYYzrsKoRPljUTi5Q/s499/AA%20041.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="499" data-original-width="316" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqbg-NOL8SXKMR_YwEmG_eRe-z02QvN4o0tmeqgcqLgkrgXAXZGDP8nB123oFfRb2gRum-3NlJBxSMTipJ0VWzjws-RaxdXZYndHfdsR_e3t7jRkmUDHL6PUBfoUcuTXLKoSG43R8GDFwtvBBpOTMQphHMqqiLrn6nVxmFkWTlWFYYzrsKoRPljUTi5Q/w406-h640/AA%20041.jpg" width="406" /></a></div></div><div style="background-color: #f6f6f6;"><span style="font-family: times, "times new roman", serif;">Auguste had constructed two sauce pan bombs, but discarded the larger one after realizing he could never sneak a 3 quart sauce pan past security. Spotting his intended target, the French President, standing on the Chamber floor, Auguste uncovered and armed his 1 quart sauce pan (above). This attracted the attention of the woman sitting next to him. (“Excuse me, but is that a sauce pan bomb in your pocket or are you just unhappy to see me?”). She was able to deflect his throw so that the sauce pan bounced off a decorative cornice and never made it onto the chamber floor before exploding,</span></div><div style="background-color: #f6f6f6;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP558tIL_32cEA1nqh5tfSb5sd9hYdQkYBjh7eki9OuiuQVzevynMcFHfFWTyqX_4zOs2O5nuZnJLRyytX6gOmSp3ABzhD0zAVekP3rF0OkZs4lkW1rhL3wJkCTZmTUGSsYFSC3FYc-dt5rCrm3YuJXW-MXENBbY2YQfkyCoxnVpAMr0-RHgZg26yGUw/s706/AA%20036.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="706" data-original-width="680" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP558tIL_32cEA1nqh5tfSb5sd9hYdQkYBjh7eki9OuiuQVzevynMcFHfFWTyqX_4zOs2O5nuZnJLRyytX6gOmSp3ABzhD0zAVekP3rF0OkZs4lkW1rhL3wJkCTZmTUGSsYFSC3FYc-dt5rCrm3YuJXW-MXENBbY2YQfkyCoxnVpAMr0-RHgZg26yGUw/w616-h640/AA%20036.jpg" width="616" /></a></div></div><div style="background-color: #f6f6f6;"><span style="font-family: times, "times new roman", serif;">The blast shattered Auguste’s right arm. The nuts and bolts packed around the explosive, shrapnel intended to kill 150 politicians, instead lacerated Auguste’s own neck and chest. And the explosion blew his nose completely off his face. Unfortunately, the quick acting heroine was also badly wounded, as were at least 20 of the intended targets. But the only person who died, if not immediately, was Auguste. Ce n'est pas tragique, c'est le plus absurde.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr9SiI3K5Bghw33PY0wnEp_LW9TY9vnNpcJ0JK8-2-2tBOXlKhRlBgu-GnB7nXWelo9rmQ5Y0LrnB466MDtA-z-JwK7-SH4TbuGceOOQJVVSoNSAHEKLZu3jLRWQSTS27ZQMveHCc2d7hJuDmUBjgU1CG36uX9mStKiCWnZkd9KTFDNw9aDCyMR1Wp9A/s448/Adams%20217.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="448" data-original-width="384" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr9SiI3K5Bghw33PY0wnEp_LW9TY9vnNpcJ0JK8-2-2tBOXlKhRlBgu-GnB7nXWelo9rmQ5Y0LrnB466MDtA-z-JwK7-SH4TbuGceOOQJVVSoNSAHEKLZu3jLRWQSTS27ZQMveHCc2d7hJuDmUBjgU1CG36uX9mStKiCWnZkd9KTFDNw9aDCyMR1Wp9A/w548-h640/Adams%20217.jpg" width="548" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="background-color: #f6f6f6; font-family: times, "times new roman", serif;">Auguste’s trial was brief. And on 3 February, 1894, the guillotine finished what Auguste’s own bomb had started. His last words, before the blade severed the rest of his head from his body, were, “Mort à la société bourgeoise! Vive l’anarchie!” The translation would be, “Death to the Bourgeoisie! Long live Anarchy!” Even his last words turned out to have been ironic, since he barely lived long enough to utter them, and given his position, he shouted them into the pavement. But then, like most humans, he had always been lecturing mostly to himself, but mostly not listening.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5HI5xTYP3Lvn97NZbH6_VWH8gk0ZobrvPKawbu_kV-H1re4lEohQVG7M0F-HyERKcVmlsMIFih_xwNMag61sAPEe42oHWbj1TOEAGwdPk29OM37vksinC82QP9Lr__mBFongf4Ixayo8XbMx0f6Ab_vCg_nmedOn4Or2nsK8DrT8w0AeYEiqSZmta2A/s500/AA%20058.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="280" data-original-width="500" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5HI5xTYP3Lvn97NZbH6_VWH8gk0ZobrvPKawbu_kV-H1re4lEohQVG7M0F-HyERKcVmlsMIFih_xwNMag61sAPEe42oHWbj1TOEAGwdPk29OM37vksinC82QP9Lr__mBFongf4Ixayo8XbMx0f6Ab_vCg_nmedOn4Or2nsK8DrT8w0AeYEiqSZmta2A/w640-h358/AA%20058.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="background-color: #f6f6f6; font-family: "trebuchet ms", trebuchet, verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: times, "times new roman", serif;">But there was one lunatic who was envious for Auguste's death scene; that 21 year old nobody anarchist fanatic, Emile Henri, After all, just over a year before, had not Henri stricken a much more effective blow against the bourgeois but had received little of the press coverage afforded to the now headless incompetent dead man? </span></div><div style="background-color: #f6f6f6; font-family: "trebuchet ms", trebuchet, verdana, sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgAKjOXo1EyIXkFjXYqdbrB7tCo3ytzIuVI9wEdLAEAXzPj29p3aWiFmO7QePKY3ZTeVRtvcvtDfirUGQN5A8xZ0eUngGgmNfU2Her3hqit7WoujEn1vZrvx9d4TeCIsCECEPRMFJKtShzivhaFF0TpXEozVzSp-Q0LOjtHbtWazp92RFhVc85VXNYRA/s568/Adams%20238.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="369" data-original-width="568" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgAKjOXo1EyIXkFjXYqdbrB7tCo3ytzIuVI9wEdLAEAXzPj29p3aWiFmO7QePKY3ZTeVRtvcvtDfirUGQN5A8xZ0eUngGgmNfU2Her3hqit7WoujEn1vZrvx9d4TeCIsCECEPRMFJKtShzivhaFF0TpXEozVzSp-Q0LOjtHbtWazp92RFhVc85VXNYRA/w640-h416/Adams%20238.jpg" width="640" /></a></div></div><div style="background-color: #f6f6f6; font-family: "trebuchet ms", trebuchet, verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: times, "times new roman", serif;">Henri had decided to strike his blow for striking miners. He packed 20 sticks of dynamite into a sauce pan - 20! - and rigged it to explode if it was jostled. He then carefully left this “infernal device” outside the second floor offices of a mining company just before lunch on 8 November, 1892. </span></div><div style="background-color: #f6f6f6; font-family: "trebuchet ms", trebuchet, verdana, sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi15R1OL5M2roQ234dlCBJt4xQ5X58g2ZxZCnt82tf_zrgxzWOL6-IViTX9DdD1qQ-9mzvnMsKcciCuzW1RSEoR7QXmA4rF-4qvLyWbCo95bE1LVE93AdwlPaPKF-zuJ80m9C3C9JAIE-xRuKhPvKerVed8wzceJTpYGgPhJrW1t045tpZLPwsGsv69yg/s1024/Adams%20241.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="992" data-original-width="1024" height="620" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi15R1OL5M2roQ234dlCBJt4xQ5X58g2ZxZCnt82tf_zrgxzWOL6-IViTX9DdD1qQ-9mzvnMsKcciCuzW1RSEoR7QXmA4rF-4qvLyWbCo95bE1LVE93AdwlPaPKF-zuJ80m9C3C9JAIE-xRuKhPvKerVed8wzceJTpYGgPhJrW1t045tpZLPwsGsv69yg/w640-h620/Adams%20241.jpg" width="640" /></a></div></div><div style="background-color: #f6f6f6; font-family: "trebuchet ms", trebuchet, verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: times, "times new roman", serif;">A lowly porter noticed the sauce pan, and realized immediately it was probably not somebodies' lunch. But rather than evacuating the offices he ordered an office boy to carry the suspect sauce pan down to the street. Somehow the office boy made it in once piece, but he felt a uneasy about leaving it on the sidewalk, in case a passing pedestrian should be injured. </span></div><div style="background-color: #f6f6f6; font-family: "trebuchet ms", trebuchet, verdana, sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoDv8XqFsYue_YAQGOnG5n5czCj9OOdFQZOLgkHpVrwzwvq47_z4TiZ45rRe2FYGzgA6AfLOngDM7LxLth4hdQnXgIJ95r4v1I3SQ0xEqyn95H0rCuKJDL2PQSaBXTHoCB4J8OrqfvHMa1Gq7rkkjCEOlvKUun9EZmDiNlPcRnk3gwwH2fou5snU-yOg/s300/Adams%20241.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="245" data-original-width="300" height="523" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoDv8XqFsYue_YAQGOnG5n5czCj9OOdFQZOLgkHpVrwzwvq47_z4TiZ45rRe2FYGzgA6AfLOngDM7LxLth4hdQnXgIJ95r4v1I3SQ0xEqyn95H0rCuKJDL2PQSaBXTHoCB4J8OrqfvHMa1Gq7rkkjCEOlvKUun9EZmDiNlPcRnk3gwwH2fou5snU-yOg/w640-h523/Adams%20241.jpg" width="640" /></a></div></div><div style="background-color: #f6f6f6; font-family: "trebuchet ms", trebuchet, verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: times, "times new roman", serif;">So the humanitarian alerted a nearby school crossing guard. She called the police, and two patrol officers responded. And, instead of evacuating the area and calling in experts, they tied a napkin around the bomb and then the three of them, the cops and the office boy, carried the bomb suspended between them to the rather mis-named Rue des Bon Enfants (Street of the wonderful children), to the police station. </span></div><div style="background-color: #f6f6f6; font-family: "trebuchet ms", trebuchet, verdana, sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCuL2jOSXJkeS-_o1p-9Cw7VsO6_DwX5N9ctyBLR-4KO50E91aK_peCWz4mhiqm76FQZ1BpOcXhomhKSVxEobWqPJ8JDpHlwCxUBbcGm6NGvRFsT33DbmbMdU908GUzVSBh9EbiQBKjBwdfnKggW2-pj7vJ4Xnnx7arC-GO99e5vDY-eD2G6F-8BIz1g/s1295/AA%20043.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="817" data-original-width="1295" height="404" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCuL2jOSXJkeS-_o1p-9Cw7VsO6_DwX5N9ctyBLR-4KO50E91aK_peCWz4mhiqm76FQZ1BpOcXhomhKSVxEobWqPJ8JDpHlwCxUBbcGm6NGvRFsT33DbmbMdU908GUzVSBh9EbiQBKjBwdfnKggW2-pj7vJ4Xnnx7arC-GO99e5vDY-eD2G6F-8BIz1g/w640-h404/AA%20043.jpg" width="640" /></a></div></div><div style="background-color: #f6f6f6; font-family: "trebuchet ms", trebuchet, verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: times, "times new roman", serif;">Once inside, where the explosion could be concentrated, the 10 sticks of dynamite exploded, killing four cops and the diliegent office boy.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPo1dLY9OVpAiSFFnw6HBKomv6v0LqAVXWMPDwXOk2WQJgusVuBLCi_u0Phy_8Dh8Cpi_SY1gh2UDk4yrVkVWokH7gcgm9nbHOO6hCBXn41k6FFa4eXthK3j3rHFXFaZdbL_zxoY7Q80p9BaX7_idGlZMc_SdUS-cOhRDarJZwnYMPlR0hPXt9Jor4tw/s793/AA%20057.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="504" data-original-width="793" height="406" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPo1dLY9OVpAiSFFnw6HBKomv6v0LqAVXWMPDwXOk2WQJgusVuBLCi_u0Phy_8Dh8Cpi_SY1gh2UDk4yrVkVWokH7gcgm9nbHOO6hCBXn41k6FFa4eXthK3j3rHFXFaZdbL_zxoY7Q80p9BaX7_idGlZMc_SdUS-cOhRDarJZwnYMPlR0hPXt9Jor4tw/w640-h406/AA%20057.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="background-color: #f6f6f6;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span>Henri had to lay low for awhile, and he was still living in anonymity in a crummy apartment with his deaf girlfriend when he opened his anarchist newspaper on 4 February, 1894 to read of Auguste’s dramatic speech at his execution. And Henri was green with envy. </span><span>Now, there might be some who feel my tone slights the victims of these attacks; to which I reply, "baloney". </span></span></div></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7eYSmlyn9n35_UMISPSgsJOyPfhE7jIfIZCBILvAhIKt8g1i9Ex_zDe6JDPPad7J-pLlzIryZV5gt7vPqgPloFuCC6rB6RcHjLsczq174zE9KshQ72umA6xgZNJd7mIy-kpN8u0hSwBN8uiRj-_aWYRAnbVhTzUJCdc6KqnUIKYNRUmUGA3wa3ZIanw/s1050/Adams%20234.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1050" data-original-width="748" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7eYSmlyn9n35_UMISPSgsJOyPfhE7jIfIZCBILvAhIKt8g1i9Ex_zDe6JDPPad7J-pLlzIryZV5gt7vPqgPloFuCC6rB6RcHjLsczq174zE9KshQ72umA6xgZNJd7mIy-kpN8u0hSwBN8uiRj-_aWYRAnbVhTzUJCdc6KqnUIKYNRUmUGA3wa3ZIanw/w456-h640/Adams%20234.jpg" width="456" /></a></div></div><div><span style="background-color: #f6f6f6; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Murder has been anathema for at least six thousand years, when the ancient Egyptians made “Thou shalt not kill” their first commandment, predating Moses by at least a thousand years. If a human being is murdered by a serial killer, a lunatic at the controls of a hijacked jet, a deluded doctor, a drunk at the wheel of a car or a waiter too busy to wash their hands, the result for the victims is the same; tragedy. Fundamentalist Islamic-Christian-Marxist- Socialist-cultural-political justifications matter only to the perpetrator; I say again, baloney.</span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5mRE9TG251QebC4x0Sx7bD7Hplt4nW8hRrKAF5ZYPfK61bS7bVp0EkLVk14zxtHUOQ3_o79ffczIumWaYVA3pLpcw2XYrXZzhAcSziOera7GR2hlItzq65Q3oS5qKP40zqHvNpS4-dDXmAZFqnaTQ6v2Vs-I3ai-8UAew0zYMKZ9ENN6lG49Al1qlgw/s960/Adams%20206.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="706" data-original-width="960" height="470" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5mRE9TG251QebC4x0Sx7bD7Hplt4nW8hRrKAF5ZYPfK61bS7bVp0EkLVk14zxtHUOQ3_o79ffczIumWaYVA3pLpcw2XYrXZzhAcSziOera7GR2hlItzq65Q3oS5qKP40zqHvNpS4-dDXmAZFqnaTQ6v2Vs-I3ai-8UAew0zYMKZ9ENN6lG49Al1qlgw/w640-h470/Adams%20206.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="background-color: #f6f6f6; font-family: times, "times new roman", serif;">As if to prove my point, one week after the glorious execution of Auguste, Henri entered the restaurant at Hotel Terminus, next to the Gar Saint Lazare train station in Paris (above). He had stopped at two other bars earlier but, he claimed later, they weren’t crowded enough to justify his and the victim's sacrifices. My guess is he had not yet drunk enough courage. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUpvXahYyIUbdg5rtZTLOMMoNmJAo8ApaTLLTcBsI58QnwiC4-P29nKI54GXdgcjVWNm0dnHV2QRl4l6Bo7f0Btsbs4xa18Jmn6ds_Cn9_HkV47wxAWa2qfqLfvRwIG4rq_9Yao7i9F-zF_r_vlqB3_OLdlzXxNnFECrIyjbrb4M1-6aNZuEn1BrtBPw/s937/AA%20010.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="937" data-original-width="750" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUpvXahYyIUbdg5rtZTLOMMoNmJAo8ApaTLLTcBsI58QnwiC4-P29nKI54GXdgcjVWNm0dnHV2QRl4l6Bo7f0Btsbs4xa18Jmn6ds_Cn9_HkV47wxAWa2qfqLfvRwIG4rq_9Yao7i9F-zF_r_vlqB3_OLdlzXxNnFECrIyjbrb4M1-6aNZuEn1BrtBPw/w512-h640/AA%20010.jpg" width="512" /></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="background-color: #f6f6f6; font-family: times, "times new roman", serif;">He nursed two drinks for an hour at the Terminus, and then as he staggered out the door, tossed his bomb back into the café, where it exploded, killing one person.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYE3aEq0-73_T6YAM6vYDGJZdTLunE55papBw6JCdBmc9QdJaHGBnC6FWN30WeqReNq5KShTno7v5iiS31qwDVJ_Y5hoF8e8-6zpwh6y0W3SxpIq86uQ_gNW0LUpp7evN0-Kzs7Anqie5CRla5gDLUQsFF3_q7RwBrFNrNmxkrAgdybiysall-7UAw_w/s938/AA%20003.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="938" data-original-width="632" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYE3aEq0-73_T6YAM6vYDGJZdTLunE55papBw6JCdBmc9QdJaHGBnC6FWN30WeqReNq5KShTno7v5iiS31qwDVJ_Y5hoF8e8-6zpwh6y0W3SxpIq86uQ_gNW0LUpp7evN0-Kzs7Anqie5CRla5gDLUQsFF3_q7RwBrFNrNmxkrAgdybiysall-7UAw_w/w432-h640/AA%20003.jpg" width="432" /></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="background-color: #f6f6f6; font-family: times, "times new roman", serif;"> A waiter ran after Henri, who shot him. Two policemen took up the chase. Henri shot one of them. The other knocked him down and restrained him. Henri’s toll was now eight dead – five at the police station the year before and three more at the restaurant.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUjmXR-sAQY1t_8CR7jSPvxy3n82OCGkRhEW1w4haY-4RfBBy4cUgrv7MCAWhjcXUucwClYsLAQCertpGZIsx5azZISHzNWxQvix4Q2iXL9qJh1fjd1dpDIJhMJgjh1vW63opnm_1x4hyPy5xeYxavz--XmsDWvfnzBWE2rDbFAV-fHRJCxXiN5VXq-w/s1000/AA%20027.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="940" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUjmXR-sAQY1t_8CR7jSPvxy3n82OCGkRhEW1w4haY-4RfBBy4cUgrv7MCAWhjcXUucwClYsLAQCertpGZIsx5azZISHzNWxQvix4Q2iXL9qJh1fjd1dpDIJhMJgjh1vW63opnm_1x4hyPy5xeYxavz--XmsDWvfnzBWE2rDbFAV-fHRJCxXiN5VXq-w/w602-h640/AA%20027.jpg" width="602" /></a></div><div style="background-color: #f6f6f6; font-family: "trebuchet ms", trebuchet, verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></div><span style="background-color: #f6f6f6; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">At his trial Henri was defiant and bombastic, until his attorney put Henri’s mother on the witness list. Henri objected. He told the judge, “It never occurred to me to inflict such pain on my mother.” In fact I suspect Henri was more concerned about his image. It would be difficult to remain an anarchist hero with your mummy explaining to the court how hard it was to get you toilet trained. </span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO0XKBkOVznYX5kHSuW7PIayTIP1tcAMxXX1WDaZvymgUhjuvldO3wfU70M-5fGX64L1N1kREZ3Lv30YvdQZe7_Sz3Zc0poiZjoJNZPwhSD6uilsisQL-JQJ3b6gFPdiiZGHPC__n5QnDmHPIz5nWxR7szk25zWn08k2UGLsJL5XLQz0tZ7J_TPUtT1g/s1077/AA%20023.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1077" data-original-width="686" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO0XKBkOVznYX5kHSuW7PIayTIP1tcAMxXX1WDaZvymgUhjuvldO3wfU70M-5fGX64L1N1kREZ3Lv30YvdQZe7_Sz3Zc0poiZjoJNZPwhSD6uilsisQL-JQJ3b6gFPdiiZGHPC__n5QnDmHPIz5nWxR7szk25zWn08k2UGLsJL5XLQz0tZ7J_TPUtT1g/w408-h640/AA%20023.jpg" width="408" /></a></div><br /><div style="background-color: #f6f6f6; font-family: "trebuchet ms", trebuchet, verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: times, "times new roman", serif;">According to the New York Times, On 21 May, 1894 at “4:07 a.m.…the iron doors swung apart…Henri was ghastly white, but walked with a firm step. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUDdZp43lJa1uPIyPcYUnbvYqMMWw9ETsG1_9-XhLPKD8hhyUEJmIvEJCxq72BaQRbPQUUKISX4Ukxep53Vpkn7mew6tEcK4R-kah9RtNulVriimrYXcR3TGNUlKyoXqsJ4jMWFVKSY-U9UAlIwILYwwhbixA1N0e1SaJoDAL6JrIOV1p6oqi7aSIpyg/s1083/AA%20028.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="922" data-original-width="1083" height="544" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUDdZp43lJa1uPIyPcYUnbvYqMMWw9ETsG1_9-XhLPKD8hhyUEJmIvEJCxq72BaQRbPQUUKISX4Ukxep53Vpkn7mew6tEcK4R-kah9RtNulVriimrYXcR3TGNUlKyoXqsJ4jMWFVKSY-U9UAlIwILYwwhbixA1N0e1SaJoDAL6JrIOV1p6oqi7aSIpyg/w640-h544/AA%20028.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="background-color: #f6f6f6; font-family: "trebuchet ms", trebuchet, verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: times, "times new roman", serif;">As he approached the platform he shouted, “Courage comrades. Long live anarchy.” His voice…trembled noticeably…As they pushed him against the plank he shouted again, “Courage comrades. Long live anarchy.” He had evidently worked this out and wanted to be quoted exactly. The click of the knife was heard the next moment, and Henri’s head dropped to the ground. The blood from his trunk spurted high as the head revolved into the basket. (The executioner) himself picked up the head from the sawdust and threw it viciously into the basket with the body.”</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgL7BGQCrmZCJ4WCFXQlKKLwk4IDj1Z3B4Vd59WvgL8qwHR5WcSUEnEL9CgGr2RId0xPwxZdvvBWMRY0Zgt73h5_4nshp1ecLpNbbM7jc1Oy4TEtB4-JDUYoljc1eAzwq7nUOMj6FSD4uO33cC2Ey_Bu1ZcOv3JRtZ2ekk159LfkAJkJlOTozrPN9FLA/s479/Adams%20010.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="311" data-original-width="479" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgL7BGQCrmZCJ4WCFXQlKKLwk4IDj1Z3B4Vd59WvgL8qwHR5WcSUEnEL9CgGr2RId0xPwxZdvvBWMRY0Zgt73h5_4nshp1ecLpNbbM7jc1Oy4TEtB4-JDUYoljc1eAzwq7nUOMj6FSD4uO33cC2Ey_Bu1ZcOv3JRtZ2ekk159LfkAJkJlOTozrPN9FLA/w640-h416/Adams%20010.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="background-color: #f6f6f6; font-family: "trebuchet ms", trebuchet, verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: times, "times new roman", serif;">Anarchy as a viable theology, it turned out, was not long lived, either. History proved it to be a temporary delusion, to join those other temporary delusions people have claimed as justification for random murder; communism, fascism, Black power, White power, the Basque Independence Party, the Irish Republican Army, the John Birch Society, the Confederacy, and the myriad other stupid self-justifications invented by humans to demand their get their way over the majority of citizens.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilesoBvDyAv5jL4RuuUwFP8_aEU40YTpYaomg6we1ciJCmfNjIBZktDqDc-q9EbjLtCZZ0Fy-6EqgUqirUQ4kQY488_7--810prPHNkDoilo4HV8RqLpj48VIC_sRcwvo7RG9FI3IQgtx-sKX-oSqUX1-QO_m-ZEX6cHFnmm6xC6sIftJlqM239WAzEQ/s847/AA%20019.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="847" data-original-width="750" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilesoBvDyAv5jL4RuuUwFP8_aEU40YTpYaomg6we1ciJCmfNjIBZktDqDc-q9EbjLtCZZ0Fy-6EqgUqirUQ4kQY488_7--810prPHNkDoilo4HV8RqLpj48VIC_sRcwvo7RG9FI3IQgtx-sKX-oSqUX1-QO_m-ZEX6cHFnmm6xC6sIftJlqM239WAzEQ/w566-h640/AA%20019.jpg" width="566" /></a></div><div style="background-color: #f6f6f6; font-family: "trebuchet ms", trebuchet, verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="background-color: #f6f6f6; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Hatred is a lot like all ideology in this respect - reduced to its core it is always about self.</span><br /><div style="background-color: #f6f6f6; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizLesfeVyxLsJm2_Y3NdC2NyTowzalSJtzUXI3zHtpOkn4DzijmLkMrpm3TieZJD1PnOTakq-8VjDBqpfRAjOFLJRjqrNK-Fsz3wnqIdkA9AXmoElYZRdknHRIsV-fSoL-9KB7E2s8rx6h0b_U_jPLSGQ8VeuvwGKr8KvVqBgr_N3etxqQxSOmyVBe2g/s800/Adams%20210.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="595" data-original-width="800" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizLesfeVyxLsJm2_Y3NdC2NyTowzalSJtzUXI3zHtpOkn4DzijmLkMrpm3TieZJD1PnOTakq-8VjDBqpfRAjOFLJRjqrNK-Fsz3wnqIdkA9AXmoElYZRdknHRIsV-fSoL-9KB7E2s8rx6h0b_U_jPLSGQ8VeuvwGKr8KvVqBgr_N3etxqQxSOmyVBe2g/w640-h476/Adams%20210.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">- 30 -</span></div></div></div>Kimit Mustonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03809428003905885379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5034791890201777099.post-75010267096949661392024-03-11T09:00:00.006-04:002024-03-11T09:00:00.134-04:00TIME TRAVELERS <p> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMDlWf23WbwRw33PNISTKVHw6QpxkRNIHMeGVg72JfpSIiedR6E-AoyNbWirMPIDwHIrRni-E4geb6HA6pKzY_vunM7jnNnT-H9do-EhFEmDpF4uzOgweny_YlgkRCI5GhzmUTNeIGMP21/s1280/AA+003+%25282%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="900" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMDlWf23WbwRw33PNISTKVHw6QpxkRNIHMeGVg72JfpSIiedR6E-AoyNbWirMPIDwHIrRni-E4geb6HA6pKzY_vunM7jnNnT-H9do-EhFEmDpF4uzOgweny_YlgkRCI5GhzmUTNeIGMP21/w450-h640/AA+003+%25282%2529.jpg" width="450" /></a></p><p></p><div>I can’t believe we are doing this again. We got along for nine thousand years without doing it, and now we do it twice a year. It was a dumb idea when we did it the first time and doing a dumb thing twice a year does not make it smart. Why are we changing our clocks again?! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4WYnZMnzcgABKffSi47ZJGBi54T_AHiFw-bvjj0N2rt82dfqe3w0Nxzj_2_mglHZL3l-YegraZjkH96WAlGBd3ic8xco4WdfMvn4Kp_d1GblpFkGinROPy-8ZFSmBbDxmbXUNrx-7sY4/s1600/Time+++03.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4WYnZMnzcgABKffSi47ZJGBi54T_AHiFw-bvjj0N2rt82dfqe3w0Nxzj_2_mglHZL3l-YegraZjkH96WAlGBd3ic8xco4WdfMvn4Kp_d1GblpFkGinROPy-8ZFSmBbDxmbXUNrx-7sY4/s400/Time+++03.jpg" width="585" /></a></div><div>The persons to blame for this are the obsessive-compulsive bureaucrats who champion the so-called Daylight Saving Time – and there is no “s” at the end of “Saving” because it’s modifying time, not daylight, which turns out to be more than a symbolic difference, I told you these clock watchers were obsessive compulsive. But that dropped “s” should also give you a hint that this whole thing is one great fraud being perpetrated on each and every one of us in the name of good grammar and saving daylight. Which, of course, cannot be done.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlvRLy7h-wFXQV1S7sbjTiCOr8-MaTcTqDFqlKiyzr4RnT5ZG4rQoGrOqCY_rK5-zGP9GK3fJIYds5Bi_650mg2vjvjqsQzb5j-NHgxk56j3XxuGobwlexwmnOizLQso38K4-gXcL9RdYU/s1500/AA+001.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlvRLy7h-wFXQV1S7sbjTiCOr8-MaTcTqDFqlKiyzr4RnT5ZG4rQoGrOqCY_rK5-zGP9GK3fJIYds5Bi_650mg2vjvjqsQzb5j-NHgxk56j3XxuGobwlexwmnOizLQso38K4-gXcL9RdYU/w512-h640/AA+001.jpg" width="512" /></a></div><div>So on 10 March, at 2:00 AM, we will "Spring Forward", adjusting our clocks again because we’re all supposed to. It's a unity thing, I guess. One nation under a one really dumb idea. We are all dumb together because being dumb together is better than being smart individually. I guess being smart together is not an option. And I have to tell you that I am not going to feel like "springing" anywhere an hour earlier, no matter how you insist on repeating "Spring Forward". Just because its the law, or a rule or something. These endless adjustments are an endless treadmill of dumbness.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvIHwfrNT2DjBs4ZYOSdw9yTySp3pLYtNOM0PCyvNtW4OUpNF4UxYLeTmQLnPxGNrMj9ZkGDj79f0HnoIrMnlWg00nL2PulC5s0H0NuE08i4k9hgFDZZRP1t6N1YvWfrAxSea0nS8Psi4/s1600/Time+++02.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvIHwfrNT2DjBs4ZYOSdw9yTySp3pLYtNOM0PCyvNtW4OUpNF4UxYLeTmQLnPxGNrMj9ZkGDj79f0HnoIrMnlWg00nL2PulC5s0H0NuE08i4k9hgFDZZRP1t6N1YvWfrAxSea0nS8Psi4/w360-h640/Time+++02.jpg" width="360" /></a></div><div>Experts assure us that during Daylight Saving Time we’re going to save 10,000 barrels of oil a day, reduce crime and spend more time out of doors with our families during summer evenings. If you knew my family, you might not want to spend an extra hour with them, anywhere. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgPhyNeHs8gy4inw1obp0k5rPnfaOmYQQgIlCPk76qnd8lMQcm2OpxVR8PY5b9xu0ctRFbDM7LfeLkHgmjnI2CisI_OXXJncfbDekPeXEwqI80Wjn09FUZCmx2m1t2RUREFmSpAd-QOG7w_YmapJhdabBdi8uM_VSfdBrBJ_e2myGGMKyMefQT5ZAHGg/s707/276251838_5763821563633023_8840554600327819649_n%20(3).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="695" data-original-width="707" height="630" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgPhyNeHs8gy4inw1obp0k5rPnfaOmYQQgIlCPk76qnd8lMQcm2OpxVR8PY5b9xu0ctRFbDM7LfeLkHgmjnI2CisI_OXXJncfbDekPeXEwqI80Wjn09FUZCmx2m1t2RUREFmSpAd-QOG7w_YmapJhdabBdi8uM_VSfdBrBJ_e2myGGMKyMefQT5ZAHGg/w640-h630/276251838_5763821563633023_8840554600327819649_n%20(3).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div>Of course your iPad and your iPhone might start displaying some rare Lapland dialect if you tried to instruct it to ignore the whole thing. But why are we doing this again?! They first tried this half baked scheme back in World War One, and as soon as the war was over they dumped it. Because it didn't actually work. And now, every time some one-world type comes up with another energy saving idea, we are all required to smile and call it "green": </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCCVhEyw61hTbcZSf70y7XNwxq6tKzue-hRrGhQx5AaLGn6rs2tyYzKPYwIQARmjq7P3pzKRcy2llchedtk2I_syB4NNh4TLnxu0GaUQ_eFrIAMRi7vGGwxFB1wTmxXTzdwsxFHvUQbGNB/s704/AA+001.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="704" data-original-width="500" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCCVhEyw61hTbcZSf70y7XNwxq6tKzue-hRrGhQx5AaLGn6rs2tyYzKPYwIQARmjq7P3pzKRcy2llchedtk2I_syB4NNh4TLnxu0GaUQ_eFrIAMRi7vGGwxFB1wTmxXTzdwsxFHvUQbGNB/w454-h640/AA+001.jpg" width="454" /></a></div><div>But I wonder about all that extra fossil fuel we will burn this spring, to generate electricity to light our darkened bedrooms, not to mention run our computers, TVs, hair dryers, electric razors and toothbrushes, water heaters and all those headlights we can't get out of bed without . We used to say that people who rose early got up with the cows. Well, the cows are not getting up any earlier. Nor are the chickens. Why the hell are we?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY0_ztAbg2GRL7z6qW5HXRue19o_37YyPrSqo5Cz-s1fQjHNVaDvntwcPRnPdKelsKems68yZadHb0YCD2OTZP5DgxwsISqBut73JczsGTRvRRXBszd5NE0lzmVOXd1WIuas-WmUpwidE/s1600/Time+++06.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY0_ztAbg2GRL7z6qW5HXRue19o_37YyPrSqo5Cz-s1fQjHNVaDvntwcPRnPdKelsKems68yZadHb0YCD2OTZP5DgxwsISqBut73JczsGTRvRRXBszd5NE0lzmVOXd1WIuas-WmUpwidE/s400/Time+++06.jpg" width="443" /></a></div><div>As everybody keeps pointing out, it was Ben Franklin who first purposed Daylight Saving in his essay “An Economical Project”, (but in French, of course) (above) in which he suggested that if authorities were to “…Oblige a man to rise at four in the morning, …it is probable he will go willingly to bed at eight in the evening." Well. duh. Unless, of course, he takes a nap. But, yeah, if you make him get up earlier he will probably go to bed earlier. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizZyNBrf8Z54rCKDqrn8zIT4zGqv6cnQM0I0xO9IehVPNzbYLdMh6FiLckym6CFCjTb9iwtJJObctejv4u-0mX4ng97kwNV9QngPwfsm1II6trNEn7O844KFmQR9KziFjBiZxxKfrVCATA/s400/AA+004.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="276" data-original-width="400" height="442" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizZyNBrf8Z54rCKDqrn8zIT4zGqv6cnQM0I0xO9IehVPNzbYLdMh6FiLckym6CFCjTb9iwtJJObctejv4u-0mX4ng97kwNV9QngPwfsm1II6trNEn7O844KFmQR9KziFjBiZxxKfrVCATA/w640-h442/AA+004.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div>And if we set him on fire, it is probable he will not litter. It is an interesting idea from the eighteenth century’s second most famous reprobate, but it strikes me like accepting interior decorating suggestions from the eighteenth century's first most famous reprobate, the Marque de Sade. Besides, how do we know that Ben wasn't just joking? I know the Marque wasn't, but...say... did anyone ever see these two guys in the same room at the same time?</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_tdTjepjoguz2dyj-QK3Q3JMSKMMDxRBvvdTDiqMe7HFEYLlrwL03v5dwvwXZt7xdNQ2vmV7M5szvl2NXAHh9JX0GvfffmgwTmVuD_Nb4_ozhLO9E24c_XMwcs96i2MoT3whUtE3_HIk/s1600/loyd+07.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_tdTjepjoguz2dyj-QK3Q3JMSKMMDxRBvvdTDiqMe7HFEYLlrwL03v5dwvwXZt7xdNQ2vmV7M5szvl2NXAHh9JX0GvfffmgwTmVuD_Nb4_ozhLO9E24c_XMwcs96i2MoT3whUtE3_HIk/s1600/loyd+07.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div>Anyway, if Ben was kidding, then Congressman Fred Upton (R-Mich.), who wrote the amendment to the Energy Policy Act of 2005 requiring Daylight Saving Time, missed the punch line. What a surprise, a Republican with no sense of humor. So the same Congress that has refused to raise the minimum wage for over a quarter of a century, found the time to steal an hour of my sleep every March and screw with my sanity every November. In the next election I suggest voting for Ben Franklin.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd8znVFXYExepBvukAJ51_kknjhMCP-XvI6ghjj3-rJuFD3_uZqmjpcd2CNlGTTOuiodZIVCrZ9FwuiCvEK_Ocmi8Y7eGCz9vmRbwrUxM-s-4UXaNU-LCBQAhLDtgb9T3v66b2rsX5UBs/s1600/Harold+Loyd.bmp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd8znVFXYExepBvukAJ51_kknjhMCP-XvI6ghjj3-rJuFD3_uZqmjpcd2CNlGTTOuiodZIVCrZ9FwuiCvEK_Ocmi8Y7eGCz9vmRbwrUxM-s-4UXaNU-LCBQAhLDtgb9T3v66b2rsX5UBs/s1600/Harold+Loyd.bmp" width="586" /></a></div><div>Ben was trying to save about 64 million pounds of candle wax a year. Well, look how much wax we saved by inventing electricity! And, didn't Ben have something to do with that? Kite, key, electrical storm - any of this sound familiar? Listen, didn't Ben see this whole electricity thing coming? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhociIO085lrgOx6LPcqLxNXaUurOaHe--Be-qd1BSDrJuyZrzq6fER7hezRTYqkhfeOXkV73BGXYkRjH-hhTSnzbtqcXST8iN-Z_Q2D-4ckv4imBzchT6KBjR8q8ZLwt7IkkiSP1XbZd754fpdC_HW4tlxIzNR28R4DXzNkZkqcTPYILaEybO2Xy3HLw/s640/276251838_5763821563633023_8840554600327819649_n%20(3).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="640" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhociIO085lrgOx6LPcqLxNXaUurOaHe--Be-qd1BSDrJuyZrzq6fER7hezRTYqkhfeOXkV73BGXYkRjH-hhTSnzbtqcXST8iN-Z_Q2D-4ckv4imBzchT6KBjR8q8ZLwt7IkkiSP1XbZd754fpdC_HW4tlxIzNR28R4DXzNkZkqcTPYILaEybO2Xy3HLw/w640-h640/276251838_5763821563633023_8840554600327819649_n%20(3).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div>And speaking of electricity, according to the New Jersey Public Service Enterprise Group, Daylight Saving has “no impact” on energy demands in their service area. And the government of Kazakhstan has already dropped the whole idea of “saving daylight”. Are Americans dumber than the Kazakhastanies? </div></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDdQgrMJhHtADZAeVha18meqviX-qI7qXURWEutCFmIRWxXOQ31su8lICsCIH8ZkEzKU_-YX2rfMfFB9UhJjyLBmHjIyfDTLosblKkq4diDH9zJR2t71jTCjvubpDkUqGgH99WFF22lRs/s1600/harold-lloyd.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDdQgrMJhHtADZAeVha18meqviX-qI7qXURWEutCFmIRWxXOQ31su8lICsCIH8ZkEzKU_-YX2rfMfFB9UhJjyLBmHjIyfDTLosblKkq4diDH9zJR2t71jTCjvubpDkUqGgH99WFF22lRs/s1600/harold-lloyd.jpg" width="492" /></a></div><div>According to the University of California Energy Institute, daylight saving does not actually save energy, it just moves it around. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMf279Y50YTgEFjdnPNfOdPwpdzU5EsaK5Wq_3D9BwK3eg6dU4kUmOXHejklPtWmZt0LOt5uTxQiKs4hZKGoJI47Vl67kT4mbUUNIbclDFgzsu_S029aAYHT63-k3Qhx7-yimNd17sq7w/s1600-h/397px-Daylightsavings.jpg"></a>And a recent study of electric bills in Indiana found that the time "shifters" are actually costing each Hoosier almost $3.00 a year MORE - about $8.6 million each year in total, plus somewhere between $1.6 and $5.3 million in pollution costs for generating all that extra electricity for getting up and going to work in the dark all winter! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR3y1-H26vovWEjcfF-EpjW-uX0OjtLEgX3tU7WXwsDptSHQQyr0zi1e6YJ_LnU-CsTlC1nYH1NoXXEgGajR7caMY5i9XgQdhU5W0WzK4LgyeNup0o12xzNbJ2OK3nVmUpLWmVP7vDbd2IwEikHJfxSe9b8aPyORE7nLkWSzePqVD3xDeupxPdm0uWnQ/s797/276251838_5763821563633023_8840554600327819649_n%20(6).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="759" data-original-width="797" height="610" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR3y1-H26vovWEjcfF-EpjW-uX0OjtLEgX3tU7WXwsDptSHQQyr0zi1e6YJ_LnU-CsTlC1nYH1NoXXEgGajR7caMY5i9XgQdhU5W0WzK4LgyeNup0o12xzNbJ2OK3nVmUpLWmVP7vDbd2IwEikHJfxSe9b8aPyORE7nLkWSzePqVD3xDeupxPdm0uWnQ/w640-h610/276251838_5763821563633023_8840554600327819649_n%20(6).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div>And if that is what it costs Hoosiers (like me), think what it costing people in New Jersey! Well, actually, it doesn't cost folks on the east coast that much, because they are on the front line of the time zone, and it doesn't cost folks in Chicago that much either. Again they are flying in the front of the time zone plane. But us folks in coach , we are getting screwed twice a year. A little more energy conservation like this and we might as well just start burning coal again. Which we are still doing. Why are we doing that? Why isn't shutting coal powered power plants a good idea for saving energy? Better than time shifting.</div></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja42DBoND4_AtHB8eKFORq_Hk9kEeEeeP79sreS3ZCPbRf6JCF5z86QMLj-ROLDGIqARya4q2sUy4c7HsAKq8Er17xhKwZz3W_QYdfJlkcPohJwzVbkJOWUDTV4B683dbOrtRn70htrVY/s1600/413clock.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="576" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja42DBoND4_AtHB8eKFORq_Hk9kEeEeeP79sreS3ZCPbRf6JCF5z86QMLj-ROLDGIqARya4q2sUy4c7HsAKq8Er17xhKwZz3W_QYdfJlkcPohJwzVbkJOWUDTV4B683dbOrtRn70htrVY/s1600/413clock.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div>And another problem with this bi-annual adjustment to our sense of reality is that our brains can’t adjust just because we tell them too. Computers solve the problem without a hitch. So while our electronics no longer need a "time patch” for programs, humans require psychiatric assistance to adjust to the depression brought on by lost sleep every spring! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitfraxZXkX5sc10MRFls3f5IVRKOdZFx157IAaqenAkGayeC7kmv_xA1UEFBpnjst1xdnD7dbHQBWYO3BJIsZeWoknbOvbQuuWBQ9Y-6Im2EBLvLbcNeoj6ZEs_nWb_QJbndAl65B9jzGSyvTKZTtes21cn_5Eew5hN6U6R98uA6TsMuOgWtWlEFQbgQ/s720/276251838_5763821563633023_8840554600327819649_n%20(3).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="665" data-original-width="720" height="592" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitfraxZXkX5sc10MRFls3f5IVRKOdZFx157IAaqenAkGayeC7kmv_xA1UEFBpnjst1xdnD7dbHQBWYO3BJIsZeWoknbOvbQuuWBQ9Y-6Im2EBLvLbcNeoj6ZEs_nWb_QJbndAl65B9jzGSyvTKZTtes21cn_5Eew5hN6U6R98uA6TsMuOgWtWlEFQbgQ/w640-h592/276251838_5763821563633023_8840554600327819649_n%20(3).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div>To quote from Ken Fisher’s article for ARS, “So while the US government pats itself on the back for at least looking busy, know that the main goal – energy conservation – has not been met….Isn’t arbitrary, mostly meaningless change, great?” Hell, no, it isn’t.</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg64mLYGuA9LJ5y6RxV2IyRNgpoD_-ToTb5G31kYmMCEC4V7VeC0CiYQ5npxvk7dti34ESuAupTi882wQJOpD21Wh70dPKRQTfeTf8Hi8bmmcZb_AFGX1lYqC4kT5Y67LdeFAyLzk9FrYlL/s1600/Time+02.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="798" data-original-width="1200" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg64mLYGuA9LJ5y6RxV2IyRNgpoD_-ToTb5G31kYmMCEC4V7VeC0CiYQ5npxvk7dti34ESuAupTi882wQJOpD21Wh70dPKRQTfeTf8Hi8bmmcZb_AFGX1lYqC4kT5Y67LdeFAyLzk9FrYlL/s640/Time+02.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div>A January 2020 study by the University of Boulder reveals that fatal car accidents "spike" 6% upward in the week following the spring forward, meaning an additional 28 deaths each year nationwide. And for citizens living in the western edges of each time zone - flying coach or in steerage - the increased risk of death rises to 8%. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW9uZq2zJLunV3JOA4ZdL97YIw-TQMCg6bPtEIsonKakQvNtM1OchEdc2Sw65SRXokkfCMagV_reJYVmP83XPezG5ojVQeS-K9hNaJjkjW7xM0inU5kGHl3nekAa6HIyOnHl0NC-Z53Uk89V3FNPD8FdEpINV8749bJuONl8yj2Yiks5iYFaVdvOcfhw/s634/276251838_5763821563633023_8840554600327819649_n%20(6).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="634" data-original-width="486" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW9uZq2zJLunV3JOA4ZdL97YIw-TQMCg6bPtEIsonKakQvNtM1OchEdc2Sw65SRXokkfCMagV_reJYVmP83XPezG5ojVQeS-K9hNaJjkjW7xM0inU5kGHl3nekAa6HIyOnHl0NC-Z53Uk89V3FNPD8FdEpINV8749bJuONl8yj2Yiks5iYFaVdvOcfhw/w490-h640/276251838_5763821563633023_8840554600327819649_n%20(6).jpg" width="490" /></a></div><div>That means, say the scientists from Boulder, that over the last 22 years, 627 people have died simply to placate Ben Franklin. Hey! He's dead. Could we not worry so much about hurting his feelings, anymore? And it ain't like we have to win World War One all over again. We done did that.</div></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQEACs12VwCN6UjAnecMlcAgBwqP0ngyBBGOUPyZYIABpKx9seD4nUt3RzeBx7mAZoaPi-gzzZ0u82JBNpABi1ZPNZqNx1pexTFhes1giBHyp7wCHqHsFT7YJ46iNzpgq_okJIez1jzLw/s1600/Time+++04.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQEACs12VwCN6UjAnecMlcAgBwqP0ngyBBGOUPyZYIABpKx9seD4nUt3RzeBx7mAZoaPi-gzzZ0u82JBNpABi1ZPNZqNx1pexTFhes1giBHyp7wCHqHsFT7YJ46iNzpgq_okJIez1jzLw/s400/Time+++04.jpg" width="619" /></a></div><div>Still, I’m willing to be cooperative. If we need more daylight then let’s move the clocks forward and be done with it. Why fall back in the fall? Listen, if the majority of the population decides that at noon tomorrow we should all pretend that it is now 10:45 AM, I’d go along with that. But for heaven’s sake please stop moving the clocks back and forth and back and forth as if we were keeping time with Mexican jumping beans. Why are we doing this to ourselves? Pick a damn time and leave it the hell alone!</div><div><div align="center"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiklSVhe0inuzaTj-eP_shEgaetcsH6GbjxSb3TXYQtR9hRzMWv1QoS1ohHoyPD02N1D81E0vwWOj1hHYlNQmdrNbtD6aNRj2WpwpIpWXx4lZpekvqfzFV6miSxl0evRE47IVbOQ4wEGeM/s1600/Time+++09.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiklSVhe0inuzaTj-eP_shEgaetcsH6GbjxSb3TXYQtR9hRzMWv1QoS1ohHoyPD02N1D81E0vwWOj1hHYlNQmdrNbtD6aNRj2WpwpIpWXx4lZpekvqfzFV6miSxl0evRE47IVbOQ4wEGeM/s400/Time+++09.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large; text-align: left;">- 30 -</span></div></div>Kimit Mustonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03809428003905885379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5034791890201777099.post-27502852760464806252024-03-10T09:00:00.007-04:002024-03-10T09:00:00.142-04:00GREAT EXPECTATIONS Chapter Ten<p> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSFeFB6XAZpL4PXUIlPGnMGGy1qsW_SkZHmPDAYeF45n9MsVM00IAeANpx-gwsKZZr_WJiQigoCgpgz9-feqWjGwK9eLc3nRo0mmEtAo6o3qRAWU95nLCqx_dfqVO0_q8HoF9p318Mu8Cq/s1200/AA+012.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSFeFB6XAZpL4PXUIlPGnMGGy1qsW_SkZHmPDAYeF45n9MsVM00IAeANpx-gwsKZZr_WJiQigoCgpgz9-feqWjGwK9eLc3nRo0mmEtAo6o3qRAWU95nLCqx_dfqVO0_q8HoF9p318Mu8Cq/w640-h640/AA+012.jpg" width="640" /></a></p><p></p><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I doubt anyone in the county courthouse (above) on Monday, 10 June, 1895 was surprise at the first words James Reavis-Peralta, spoke. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3yEdkhP55zgNYOfzgQN0cty40LvvqjQ6XSmeEvCkzwcMU3YHBHERpGyX8HBeOiA127bXNQ6z-7TdGVv6y-oIpkzF2wd6WSguPpESYVONyjC3sKErq_pG6EQD4EWE6JHGVQy7Cnmx19DEIwUNEp79BRbN9fcp434MLQjZxszYxGgBADPc1nUzxoDg5vw/s720/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(12).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="720" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3yEdkhP55zgNYOfzgQN0cty40LvvqjQ6XSmeEvCkzwcMU3YHBHERpGyX8HBeOiA127bXNQ6z-7TdGVv6y-oIpkzF2wd6WSguPpESYVONyjC3sKErq_pG6EQD4EWE6JHGVQy7Cnmx19DEIwUNEp79BRbN9fcp434MLQjZxszYxGgBADPc1nUzxoDg5vw/w640-h480/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(12).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">When he rose, the self proclaimed Baron of Arizona asked for a delay, while he sought a new attorney. When Mathew Reynolds, lawyer for the government, objected, Reavis was granted a one day continuance. Encouraged by that small success, Reavis made a motion to have the case dismissed entirely. This motion was just as quickly dismissed. This Federal Judge was not going to be lead down any rabbit holes.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdvyJy46MBpbpDsxibqHt1tDT5Q7zbMPyIDVPGtakzPSkdM2SAN1Znz2IgRgPhJSoOvjFpoGod-mI7BBpBbS6i7d60Cm8uRBleErrfRA1zmobMO8Kf2B0SKii9wWcIJQ_9gX_lZdKYQrta8kwWlLIAChAWR0aM9Mpu124UfF0mtThDhpX05AnYJN6S_Q/s731/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(8).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="282" data-original-width="731" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdvyJy46MBpbpDsxibqHt1tDT5Q7zbMPyIDVPGtakzPSkdM2SAN1Znz2IgRgPhJSoOvjFpoGod-mI7BBpBbS6i7d60Cm8uRBleErrfRA1zmobMO8Kf2B0SKii9wWcIJQ_9gX_lZdKYQrta8kwWlLIAChAWR0aM9Mpu124UfF0mtThDhpX05AnYJN6S_Q/w640-h246/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(8).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">And when the trial reconvened on Tuesday, 11 June , the Baron announced that he was going to be doing a single: lawyer, plaintiff and witness all in one. He spent most of his direct testimony by describing his dealings with Huntington, Crocker, and various Senators and cabinet members. None would testify in his defense. Reavis did not ask to subpoena any of them. None would admit to even knowing him. If the jury was impressed by his name dropping, they had little time to be, because Reynolds began his cross examination that very afternoon. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg42YEyS9Q83c9Als8Rr6JAOFnvugf6YGQpX4XigTtJ1s9CBf1Riinh3WW_i5QG7UAuk26aHmmk4xtlPa1bnXa91gJXv1HprJGHZObMbMeUvGT3CDXrZVPmMGl1gN5Q6geHEXITAyGA6UmxIJ2ypuWqbr8LR8NIWRPOnVkKmaLNliVm6oXr2hRvxdqRkA/s772/276251838_5763821563633023_8840554600327819649_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="772" data-original-width="484" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg42YEyS9Q83c9Als8Rr6JAOFnvugf6YGQpX4XigTtJ1s9CBf1Riinh3WW_i5QG7UAuk26aHmmk4xtlPa1bnXa91gJXv1HprJGHZObMbMeUvGT3CDXrZVPmMGl1gN5Q6geHEXITAyGA6UmxIJ2ypuWqbr8LR8NIWRPOnVkKmaLNliVm6oXr2hRvxdqRkA/w402-h640/276251838_5763821563633023_8840554600327819649_n.jpg" width="402" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">No matter what question Reynolds asked, Reavis' answers were endless and rambling. Did he not notice that the documents he claimed to have discovered in the San Xavier record books, were on a different paper than the other pages in the book, and at right angles to the standard pages? (above) What about the questionable testimony regarding Sophia's noble birth? Did he pay anyone to lie in their testimony? But no matter how long Reavis talked, no matter how many twist and turns he made in responding, Reynolds just kept attacking. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTq2J6WUzj-lfh71lJNXl11x0wzYu7vXhCmJalqdYUnkKSrNbK7xnyTXkKccLAxwLExwM-vZGhEFIS6Mxr24Vy00zcViqcQSOY9deeoWJky6M3PIO-tbprd1Uo5fageoNgI8By1hdV91ASnxcPCt1smZyICwaiZARwpkx10F8IkDA2QCSRcLtHEOEIbg/s300/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(2).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="215" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTq2J6WUzj-lfh71lJNXl11x0wzYu7vXhCmJalqdYUnkKSrNbK7xnyTXkKccLAxwLExwM-vZGhEFIS6Mxr24Vy00zcViqcQSOY9deeoWJky6M3PIO-tbprd1Uo5fageoNgI8By1hdV91ASnxcPCt1smZyICwaiZARwpkx10F8IkDA2QCSRcLtHEOEIbg/w459-h640/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(2).jpg" width="459" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">By Wednesday, 12 June, Reavis had been forced to admit that even he had doubts about some of his documents. His explanation was that he just filed them, he wasn't vouching for them.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbtm6IpIGy9W8VohWalKZKVXXDlG7Aj566WZGXbwAsw5tacbN9qPlp83lfIxm7XCOVjBOLtuEWze7eb50HJT9X_c-X5qReGPdH0XPzeXKDl-BCIHzKgbUOFzAiz3sqPJ8HItXEPdVIYHti/s1600/Baron++50.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbtm6IpIGy9W8VohWalKZKVXXDlG7Aj566WZGXbwAsw5tacbN9qPlp83lfIxm7XCOVjBOLtuEWze7eb50HJT9X_c-X5qReGPdH0XPzeXKDl-BCIHzKgbUOFzAiz3sqPJ8HItXEPdVIYHti/s400/Baron++50.jpg" width="555" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">On Monday, 17 June, the Baroness Sophia Reavis Peralta took the stand. She admitted she had no knowledge about any of the documents filed supporting her noble birth. Perhaps it was the paternalistic Victorian machismo at play, but the courtroom was convinced the lady was telling the truth, as she believed the truth to be. Presented with convincing evidence that she was in fact the daughter of John A. Treadway and an Indian squaw named Kate Loreta, she broke down in tears, but still insisted, through her sobs, that she was the wife and granddaughter of the Baron of Arizona.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhco96lAEmIK0v1h9JX5_lI8aCE9KGHo59aR3xmLuEFBbVYGAzelC7JhAWnIaBQYQB0avfgjB_l40f0DSrtHGiwohbrEJ8usjEbYoayQXD_TaPCvhVS9O-5Jrpb5KSrfXM7HzGt_4tDixyc/s1600/Baron++17.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhco96lAEmIK0v1h9JX5_lI8aCE9KGHo59aR3xmLuEFBbVYGAzelC7JhAWnIaBQYQB0avfgjB_l40f0DSrtHGiwohbrEJ8usjEbYoayQXD_TaPCvhVS9O-5Jrpb5KSrfXM7HzGt_4tDixyc/w387-h640/Baron++17.jpg" width="387" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Having put his wife through this emotional torture, on Tuesday 18 June, 1897, Reavis introduced a portrait he claimed was of Don Miguel Nemecio de Peralta de la Cordoba (above), and noted the facial resemblance to his own two sons. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfBabSaI359lLsW72-AThPz3dcH6yAGtWfardZZvkzG7V3KnaXiwxhsCxBgOF5p17WBs7MpMMPkbUWZq5UgZ4xgdrp-pRrw8yUltXO0pCxIzkf7nCd2HWBrefHpb94reMLzpMnn4hJ32rZ54AC5tDxQ_uAhg6gxy0aavL41hFppS4XddLTdnXoLDHp5w/s550/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(6)_LI.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="415" data-original-width="550" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfBabSaI359lLsW72-AThPz3dcH6yAGtWfardZZvkzG7V3KnaXiwxhsCxBgOF5p17WBs7MpMMPkbUWZq5UgZ4xgdrp-pRrw8yUltXO0pCxIzkf7nCd2HWBrefHpb94reMLzpMnn4hJ32rZ54AC5tDxQ_uAhg6gxy0aavL41hFppS4XddLTdnXoLDHp5w/w640-h482/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(6)_LI.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">After that he just ran out of gas, and was reduced to rants about grand conspiracies and lunatic explanations and justifications. During his closing Reavis did not even bother arguing his case, but rather entered a list of 52 objections to rulings the court had made. They would all be ignored.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfdmWXihx8qGwhyphenhyphentTmwnRCNXp0JhwbPIOprYhyphenhyphenmtL59lLcm6ano-j0um37NtDjXVPraEJBz7BKxNS5R16FIi9Q6D4PPA5o74kVnxer5N8XiJND9XsThysOZNRIlp2kaFianlA5v8VEp3tv/s1600/Baron++51.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfdmWXihx8qGwhyphenhyphentTmwnRCNXp0JhwbPIOprYhyphenhyphenmtL59lLcm6ano-j0um37NtDjXVPraEJBz7BKxNS5R16FIi9Q6D4PPA5o74kVnxer5N8XiJND9XsThysOZNRIlp2kaFianlA5v8VEp3tv/w496-h640/Baron++51.jpg" width="496" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The government did not even bother to present a final argument. Ten days later, the Court of Private Land Claims, created by political allies to defend the Peralta Grant case, found “the claim is wholly fictitious and fraudulent”, and dismissed it entirely. That was, of course, not the end. James Reavis (above) had gone too far for that to be the end of the affair.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSKVUT2Y915YGdklSrrHl24Zjg4LMsJkzvDYb41oCyfuNeZDa53v9WvdH2L7Pk_GzQFlxDu4G4LFQ24Qxv4NUwcq6CwwTYGTwZFouqzBGFxN9hOfQ266LFHfe1MTNb1TP054U6mXZ6LeBf/s1600/Baron++24.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSKVUT2Y915YGdklSrrHl24Zjg4LMsJkzvDYb41oCyfuNeZDa53v9WvdH2L7Pk_GzQFlxDu4G4LFQ24Qxv4NUwcq6CwwTYGTwZFouqzBGFxN9hOfQ266LFHfe1MTNb1TP054U6mXZ6LeBf/s400/Baron++24.jpg" width="563" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Reavis was arrested as he left the courtroom, and charged with 42 counts of forgery, presenting false documents to the Land Court and conspiracy to defraud the United States Government. Bail was set at a lowly $500. And although the court allowed him to telegraph his connections in California and Washington, D.C., nobody stepped up with the cash. James Reavis-Peralta spent the next year in jail, awaiting trial. It finally began on Saturday, 27 June, 1896 and ended on Tuesday 30 June, with a verdict of guilty. Two weeks later, on Friday 17 July, James Reavis-Peralta was sentenced to two years in jail – one year of which he had already served – and a $5,000 fine –about $130,000 today.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqjQ9GgPkcOcPP7DqwhkLih_Tdc5X7zWYbqlB2w997MVowBQ0itWNV-Ls8zPsaWq-BKudLpjGGSQ0JbZpxvZHaX5R7Dbn0UE3G0rqtQQgvE_cNUuIw_27QnyPTCTd5ORdVm8lqKK21ePrF/s1000/AA+003.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="529" data-original-width="1000" height="338" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqjQ9GgPkcOcPP7DqwhkLih_Tdc5X7zWYbqlB2w997MVowBQ0itWNV-Ls8zPsaWq-BKudLpjGGSQ0JbZpxvZHaX5R7Dbn0UE3G0rqtQQgvE_cNUuIw_27QnyPTCTd5ORdVm8lqKK21ePrF/w640-h338/AA+003.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">To pay the fine, the mansion in San Francisco was sold. Arizola the home and fortress which was supposed to represent the reality of the Peralta grant, was seized by the U.S. government. It was later converted into a barn. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMjy3yk-2_XB89tblWYJevEsrMnWoLenfF7juk-sg3dkcF0HvWiP-oEamlpezhNKjSr2U4HwjIyXiaA-rwdFAyxcONQkCVFj1oyeCBklpoBjSqFX4GdTIQuPnRH9ndcIcudYYTERYsdq5ENkKzswjPgTX03A5Tz4mkXOUBByQ_YbuzLkfkAe9xruuNIA/s648/327653254_869155044310229_7043309291021627427_n.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="499" data-original-width="648" height="492" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMjy3yk-2_XB89tblWYJevEsrMnWoLenfF7juk-sg3dkcF0HvWiP-oEamlpezhNKjSr2U4HwjIyXiaA-rwdFAyxcONQkCVFj1oyeCBklpoBjSqFX4GdTIQuPnRH9ndcIcudYYTERYsdq5ENkKzswjPgTX03A5Tz4mkXOUBByQ_YbuzLkfkAe9xruuNIA/w640-h492/327653254_869155044310229_7043309291021627427_n.png" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">When James Reavis was released from prison in April of 1898, he followed Sophia and his children to their new home in Denver, where he tried for many years to find investors for his various schemes and plans. Few were even interested in buying his book, “The Confessions of the Baron of Arizona”. It had already been serialized in his old newspaper, "The San Francisco Call". He probably did not even write it himself.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHV6CyGe024y-g45w4F3Y2fCWRhDI7D8YcOueuly3pHuzuHsXSVYU5v3T_jyaAiEuOt3dZIerN10Z6vVWBhfnWef9f7gtB-dq6cb3QkolU9lqKYvYCHYwaarJzrlXFQYJnVKVCWf3nYDUY/s1600/Baron++09.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHV6CyGe024y-g45w4F3Y2fCWRhDI7D8YcOueuly3pHuzuHsXSVYU5v3T_jyaAiEuOt3dZIerN10Z6vVWBhfnWef9f7gtB-dq6cb3QkolU9lqKYvYCHYwaarJzrlXFQYJnVKVCWf3nYDUY/s400/Baron++09.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span lang="es-ES">But whoever the actual author, it was presented as a classic </span><span lang="en-US">Victorian</span><span lang="es-ES"> </span><span lang="en-US">morality</span><span lang="es-ES"> tale. “The plan to secure the Peralta Grant and defraud the Government," wrote the author, "was not conceived in a day. It was the result of a series of crimes extending over nearly a score of years. At first the stake was small, but it grew and grew in magnitude until even I sometimes was appalled at the thought of the possibilities. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUn8Osi13hcLdHn8JIKqgYzK5JpN8i3DGFlZ_DmuisGfc5ePIqsD3624l05nc-N3RjhPirO0045H9Fvoo-n5VjAeTQtb9H0D2gmoOmjcxcL7BfGCpGaCwAVZ3TZ16PLMMfgv7W99_G7U30RW65OHPPSp11m4uirR78-0uN6xJGTFIugDcDcELeRY_RSA/s474/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(7).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="336" data-original-width="474" height="454" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUn8Osi13hcLdHn8JIKqgYzK5JpN8i3DGFlZ_DmuisGfc5ePIqsD3624l05nc-N3RjhPirO0045H9Fvoo-n5VjAeTQtb9H0D2gmoOmjcxcL7BfGCpGaCwAVZ3TZ16PLMMfgv7W99_G7U30RW65OHPPSp11m4uirR78-0uN6xJGTFIugDcDcELeRY_RSA/w640-h454/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(7).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">"I was playing a game which to win meant greater wealth than that of a Vanderbilt. My hand constantly gained strength, noted men pleaded my cause, and unlimited capital was at my command. My opponent was the Government, and I baffled its agents at every turn. Gradually I became absolutely sure of success.”</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilmsP3xL3ry9G_8wnbqAsYzhNPySlWb7b_f_UiUyhEJLqqKL6cpaR2eq2M9tgvagj4HeqcEYaiQb0ZKU_fjFrjha_6pVSYSaikaOnMHvWDKCvhKo1MdgsDxNQoqzHGkXkLu98sGOwCfJQO/s1600/Baron++12.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilmsP3xL3ry9G_8wnbqAsYzhNPySlWb7b_f_UiUyhEJLqqKL6cpaR2eq2M9tgvagj4HeqcEYaiQb0ZKU_fjFrjha_6pVSYSaikaOnMHvWDKCvhKo1MdgsDxNQoqzHGkXkLu98sGOwCfJQO/s400/Baron++12.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">"As I neared the verge of triumph”, wrote Reavis, “I was exultant and sure. Until the very moment of my downfall I gave no thought to failure. But my sins found me out, and as in the twinkling of an eye I saw the millions which had seemed already in my grasp fade away and I heard the courts doom me to a prison cell. <span lang="es-ES">Now I am growing old and the thing hangs upon me like a nightmare until I am driven to make a clean breast of it all, that I may end my days in peace.” </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsn8QHkC48H9Fk5oGSbQbUlMw-aityQq6rUH66KmlRUrOIBmwOK3gR_-E0yJBr_7R1JcxpnFjeFbzbFGum55sOmLF22EOgl57v71InbSd5NfGTFam9E39kynQth1aOJtD7RSd2ul_QA-L-5GOOCcY3wwT9Iigpy0K8ajsmeTCt6Hiw9KtuqNe3CmTZnw/s655/A%20001%20(3).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="481" data-original-width="655" height="470" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsn8QHkC48H9Fk5oGSbQbUlMw-aityQq6rUH66KmlRUrOIBmwOK3gR_-E0yJBr_7R1JcxpnFjeFbzbFGum55sOmLF22EOgl57v71InbSd5NfGTFam9E39kynQth1aOJtD7RSd2ul_QA-L-5GOOCcY3wwT9Iigpy0K8ajsmeTCt6Hiw9KtuqNe3CmTZnw/w640-h470/A%20001%20(3).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">No where in his “clean breast” account did James Reavis mention Mr. Huntington, or Charles Crocker or any of the other wealthy and powerful men who had financed and backed his scam in hopes of increasing their wealth. It seemed that Reavis had learned something from the affair, after all. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjK4kjPkawrblH1EOKQqPX7lCwaLMAfFeDGuGkUYgjlNYU6G0_IW9wP-3aDvZ2Bm2Z2brFlkc16g9vRPRqpzwr3LNhoUx8c7xzo0BAYgfqxXNjyD-xYZF5agOqMhoYY35ro_QMZn-WDlQDIg4vCqQWdYkjIPXmyErL1qQrapcvlhXJtGEWKwTu2qcZ4Q/s921/276251838_5763821563633023_8840554600327819649_n%20(3).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="921" data-original-width="744" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjK4kjPkawrblH1EOKQqPX7lCwaLMAfFeDGuGkUYgjlNYU6G0_IW9wP-3aDvZ2Bm2Z2brFlkc16g9vRPRqpzwr3LNhoUx8c7xzo0BAYgfqxXNjyD-xYZF5agOqMhoYY35ro_QMZn-WDlQDIg4vCqQWdYkjIPXmyErL1qQrapcvlhXJtGEWKwTu2qcZ4Q/w518-h640/276251838_5763821563633023_8840554600327819649_n%20(3).jpg" width="518" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Sophia (above) had also gained in knowledge. In 1902, she filed for divorce on the grounds of “non-support”. And the old forger who began his career at 18, faking passes for his army buddies, died alone, at the age of 71 on 20 November, 1914, in Denver Colorado. Cause of death was listed as bronchitis, but I suspect he just ran out of ideas. He was buried in a paupers unmarked grave. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvUUB46kSGhzp1CgS8al2rooqlxTjVLZhhJX0TEmJdIBn2WTuh4TbBzibAfF4zFT7BU_kYxi4zH6GldvHQQNhPqYSi6LWaNlHJyc4-hkn8u2igXdweRa4V-FaMKgDRgMW2bFk7nhjPzQQlQ6iHogwJ7_Q8gtkLORH7ZAtgfqL8cQHsgvrMuBUI5EkOGQ/s691/276251838_5763821563633023_8840554600327819649_n%20(4).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="571" data-original-width="691" height="528" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvUUB46kSGhzp1CgS8al2rooqlxTjVLZhhJX0TEmJdIBn2WTuh4TbBzibAfF4zFT7BU_kYxi4zH6GldvHQQNhPqYSi6LWaNlHJyc4-hkn8u2igXdweRa4V-FaMKgDRgMW2bFk7nhjPzQQlQ6iHogwJ7_Q8gtkLORH7ZAtgfqL8cQHsgvrMuBUI5EkOGQ/w640-h528/276251838_5763821563633023_8840554600327819649_n%20(4).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Sophia, once the child of royalty and then a single mother supporting herself and her children, lived the last years of her life under the name Lola Reavis. The poor soul died on 4 April, 1934. Her obituary in the Rocky Mountain News failed to even mention the Peralta Grant. That was probably not an accident.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2PC53CT5bfyjxy8aMcUk7JPU53j_Q_E09flAn1ys7tQH-Pkr8Sx3fsPHwBHi-4U8uOFkjclJALQ1f_ClTdepTC5gmsCB-Jzoid0QCcqNFWWGEH-v2l8cr4M_LFaNdde2NT7mk5mPujX8G/s1600/Baron+124.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2PC53CT5bfyjxy8aMcUk7JPU53j_Q_E09flAn1ys7tQH-Pkr8Sx3fsPHwBHi-4U8uOFkjclJALQ1f_ClTdepTC5gmsCB-Jzoid0QCcqNFWWGEH-v2l8cr4M_LFaNdde2NT7mk5mPujX8G/s400/Baron+124.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #282013;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "times" , serif;">In 1963 the National Park Service decided that it was not financially feasible to save the the fortress south of Casa Grande. The ten room mansion of Arizola was allowed to slowly decay and collapse into the desert. The ne</span></span>xt year they erected a maker on Arizona route 84 at milepost 181, to explain the significance of the spot to any passersby. It reads (inaccurately), “James Addison Peralta Reavis was a brazen forger who claimed over 12 million acres of Central Arizona and Western New Mexico as an Old Spanish Land grant. He and his family lived here in royal style until his fraud was exposed. From the barony he went to federal prison in 1895". </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqrUUyGIeDGLYsKiJ_e0Z3eR4uPQI8vRMi4FbQYjCXzxf_4gtdfiA5_-83Ct2vFLq4Q4HScLGrMCIfEzaelF1jIuk-LOsiDLLZXiid_zNjjWYIcHj28tU_Eq_XQ8CJJdMo0LU9R_bn_xwWu3Rnt5ont8_3p0BjcDje2rkw8SubeJNsmscISzaFdm9Ihg/s3500/AA%20004.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2280" data-original-width="3500" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqrUUyGIeDGLYsKiJ_e0Z3eR4uPQI8vRMi4FbQYjCXzxf_4gtdfiA5_-83Ct2vFLq4Q4HScLGrMCIfEzaelF1jIuk-LOsiDLLZXiid_zNjjWYIcHj28tU_Eq_XQ8CJJdMo0LU9R_bn_xwWu3Rnt5ont8_3p0BjcDje2rkw8SubeJNsmscISzaFdm9Ihg/w640-h416/AA%20004.jpg" width="640" /></a></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #282013; font-family: "times new roman", times, serif;">And that is all most people will ever know about this story. But now, you know more.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1It4Tl1xwA2QzoTg2AgcJ0iBIHajXGGtShR95yYs4qY1XWeN87GLWfcbyWsWxxHG490rFPRs_NcKA8I6crCqAyZvYAoZgmzZrDMyIDkzOy_9v7H7U8MWxanAWnMv3198UtnUzX2vc898X/s1600/Baron++44.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1It4Tl1xwA2QzoTg2AgcJ0iBIHajXGGtShR95yYs4qY1XWeN87GLWfcbyWsWxxHG490rFPRs_NcKA8I6crCqAyZvYAoZgmzZrDMyIDkzOy_9v7H7U8MWxanAWnMv3198UtnUzX2vc898X/s400/Baron++44.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #282013; font-family: "times new roman" , "times" , serif; font-size: large;">- 30 -</span></div>Kimit Mustonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03809428003905885379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5034791890201777099.post-19336090577618316592024-03-09T09:00:00.006-05:002024-03-09T09:00:00.129-05:00GREAT EXPECTATIONS Chapter Nine<p> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2OneWmH1rIkdQW9p9jUB8Vy2Bnu5fdWGduLj-GMpBjpyOra6p74RrEZ-9UBAh0jjUEC8SwvpHgnc83Mc6tIQB8t1YBqh9LVyQBkStO6bKZuKdBg4RRHPmT8jCF-FyfnBwswZiNJpy7ASs/s1600/Baron++04.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="484" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2OneWmH1rIkdQW9p9jUB8Vy2Bnu5fdWGduLj-GMpBjpyOra6p74RrEZ-9UBAh0jjUEC8SwvpHgnc83Mc6tIQB8t1YBqh9LVyQBkStO6bKZuKdBg4RRHPmT8jCF-FyfnBwswZiNJpy7ASs/s640/Baron++04.jpg" width="640" /></a></p><div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #282013; font-family: "times new roman" , "times" , serif; line-height: 0.23in;">I am always surprised by people who despise politics, because that is like despising vaccination needles; try living without them.</span><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="color: #282013; line-height: 0.23in;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Or as that </span></span><span style="color: #050505; font-family: times;"><span style="white-space-collapse: preserve;">fascist </span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: times; white-space-collapse: preserve;">jackass Plato put it, "“The price good men pay for indifference to public affairs is to be ruled by evil men.” Men like James Reavis-Peralta.</span><span style="color: #282013; font-family: times;"> </span></div><div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuo-hFlZT6QlSg5PKBvzUxmHoFAEqurrJ6oofgvjeXhvYqr5ZmxwzDns6K2QqQdPRfVUyOazhvTmVljPPjFsAKDnF813mzjwUJybHynKFiBqaGCTu1gkjCRSwktQdktBMyNcXUvdslrDn2wmTboXB5r0F8QyDaSM9_8YtmfQ36FTU4BrJJ-iOLWNVPyw/s3500/AA%20004.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2280" data-original-width="3500" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuo-hFlZT6QlSg5PKBvzUxmHoFAEqurrJ6oofgvjeXhvYqr5ZmxwzDns6K2QqQdPRfVUyOazhvTmVljPPjFsAKDnF813mzjwUJybHynKFiBqaGCTu1gkjCRSwktQdktBMyNcXUvdslrDn2wmTboXB5r0F8QyDaSM9_8YtmfQ36FTU4BrJJ-iOLWNVPyw/w640-h416/AA%20004.jpg" width="640" /></a></div></div><div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #282013; font-family: "times new roman" , "times" , serif; line-height: 0.23in;">The way in which James Reavis responded to Royal Johnson's report is a perfect example. Publically, he sued the United States, claiming the government was stealing a million and a half acres from his “Arizona Development Corporation”, and demanded compensation of $11 million ($2.5 billion today). That got a lot of headlines. But more practically, he called on his backer's allies in Washington. </span></div><div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlLyST2iT29XxxzaOQ1qDiIvjqprBLlbGUf55StK4mHaasK8IrbIVSmMfJ_bNIMXIC1t5KRPXA09Pam6H0iLr-9BNDSAXOhStm0lDMI2OZqLxryWDIPP434ZCIB2GIWLApXKqgcpJjB-lN/s616/AA+002.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="469" data-original-width="616" height="488" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlLyST2iT29XxxzaOQ1qDiIvjqprBLlbGUf55StK4mHaasK8IrbIVSmMfJ_bNIMXIC1t5KRPXA09Pam6H0iLr-9BNDSAXOhStm0lDMI2OZqLxryWDIPP434ZCIB2GIWLApXKqgcpJjB-lN/w640-h488/AA+002.jpg" width="640" /></a></div></div><div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #282013; font-family: "times new roman" , "times" , serif; line-height: 0.23in;">The railroad's man in the President's Cabinet (and therefore Collis Huntington's man), was Secretary of the Interior John W. Noble (above). In turn, he put pressure on the Federal Commissioner for the Land Office, Lewis Augustus Groff, who was technically Johnson's boss. </span></div><div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAv6MQn0vuuZjkjwc6uuhoHst9258Rp4VCFlQkv3_ImQ-auZRD26_CtjhglanbMGgvE19adZTyhhW2f1THclYc5bdnAyXVzWZQuQDLAKybrUjzaOukgl0q18Nnf7JiQOgHT7ZYlgFrcz_b/s400/AA+003+%25282%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="320" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAv6MQn0vuuZjkjwc6uuhoHst9258Rp4VCFlQkv3_ImQ-auZRD26_CtjhglanbMGgvE19adZTyhhW2f1THclYc5bdnAyXVzWZQuQDLAKybrUjzaOukgl0q18Nnf7JiQOgHT7ZYlgFrcz_b/w512-h640/AA+003+%25282%2529.jpg" width="512" /></a></div></div><div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #282013; font-family: "times new roman", times, serif;">On 20 February, 1890, Commissioner Groff (above) fired off a critical letter to the Arizona Surveyor General - Royal Johnson. The letter said Johnson's report was biased and instructed Johnson to “strike the case from your docket and notify Mr. Reavis of the action, allowing the usual time for an appeal to the Hon. Secretary of the Interior.” In other words, John W. Noble. Problem solved – except for the lawsuit.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWsgFzEtnO9yYGK0GsHjf32mo4kYejx5RoLdkDPsFb3Ccw9d9M2-5DIPuSR6joTxeL8fCAwECzgNK4BI64WXcbXIXvfbW1PIkA0rK8l181uL5_Qz8gPUaXhqee7fQrI85jXjw6GeOUoRjy/s1600/Baron++10.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="483" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWsgFzEtnO9yYGK0GsHjf32mo4kYejx5RoLdkDPsFb3Ccw9d9M2-5DIPuSR6joTxeL8fCAwECzgNK4BI64WXcbXIXvfbW1PIkA0rK8l181uL5_Qz8gPUaXhqee7fQrI85jXjw6GeOUoRjy/s400/Baron++10.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #282013; font-family: "times new roman" , "times" , serif; line-height: 0.23in;">Lawyers for Reavis-Peralta and the Development Corporation were Harvey Brown, Robert Ingersall and James Broadhead, who had already publicly endorsed the Peralta claim. All three men were also attorneys for Huntington's Southern Pacific Railroad. Mr. Huntington must have been a little annoyed he'd been forced out of the shadows on this point. </span></div><div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTrPmAa4IXs8OgoCCncyG4bsDiCai9KSFZTORqVvK6vldGgwPPGfVpqTdXmD6lntfyO9APH6uQ3fSB-SjOK74ogqv12YQUXeUoFZdrlFmgbBNQ7gknDUa7dw_jni6z3ut3oAhOjr7hwuJQR2qseKrHXBxsBOoU0H3TeE6pyKbX-_vOw7wvp0KC7gDGQw/s655/A%20001%20(3).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="481" data-original-width="655" height="470" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTrPmAa4IXs8OgoCCncyG4bsDiCai9KSFZTORqVvK6vldGgwPPGfVpqTdXmD6lntfyO9APH6uQ3fSB-SjOK74ogqv12YQUXeUoFZdrlFmgbBNQ7gknDUa7dw_jni6z3ut3oAhOjr7hwuJQR2qseKrHXBxsBOoU0H3TeE6pyKbX-_vOw7wvp0KC7gDGQw/w640-h470/A%20001%20(3).jpg" width="640" /></a></div></div><div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #282013; font-family: "times new roman" , "times" , serif; line-height: 0.23in;">Never-the-less the lawyers began a delaying action while Senator Roscoe Conkling (another Huntington ally) came to the rescue, pushing for the creation in March of 1891, of the U.S. Court of Private Land Claims, which was given jurisdiction over all old Mexican and Spanish land claims, i.e. the Peralta grant.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigUVgOWUbKKMs9cJXf5QOnlnXyXu6Ue1-KTT6uIUc6ad13PGQbZlwLOQJPi8nEH6OjUmEEvAmz-2758D9Q4sVKOwrKPF4gxiJoffHNVFNtmFvHLNTV-SWyvCNg0mJMxvDIx5y-dedYT2Eq/s1600/Baron++26.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="481" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigUVgOWUbKKMs9cJXf5QOnlnXyXu6Ue1-KTT6uIUc6ad13PGQbZlwLOQJPi8nEH6OjUmEEvAmz-2758D9Q4sVKOwrKPF4gxiJoffHNVFNtmFvHLNTV-SWyvCNg0mJMxvDIx5y-dedYT2Eq/s400/Baron++26.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #282013; line-height: 0.23in;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "times" , serif;">While all of this was going in Washington, D.C., back in California James Reavis-Peralta's personal attorneys managed to find just the right people who were willing to swear under oath they had known the little orphan girl Sophia Peralta at various stages in her life. One man even claimed to have been a employee of John Treadway, who had supposedly provided for the child after her father left California for Spain. </span></span></div><div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #282013; line-height: 0.23in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRKuP4FgibgzLkWIT6NHIkHpg-XWvbEElUH7IS8SamanorQcsPd3KK7tAciCAv4rCgPCZWdCsluK_Mh91vn-8IpzR7EGDlE6_myMzEd5ruHqLr8i8xCYA5ksBmZW0dGH-ToDovdWur2neD/s1000/AA+003.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="529" data-original-width="1000" height="338" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRKuP4FgibgzLkWIT6NHIkHpg-XWvbEElUH7IS8SamanorQcsPd3KK7tAciCAv4rCgPCZWdCsluK_Mh91vn-8IpzR7EGDlE6_myMzEd5ruHqLr8i8xCYA5ksBmZW0dGH-ToDovdWur2neD/w640-h338/AA+003.jpg" width="640" /></a></div></span></div><div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #282013; line-height: 0.23in;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "times" , serif;">And in February 1893, an express wagon pulled up in front of the Land Office in Sante Fe, New Mexico (above) and unloaded “an array of boxes and packages, all...marked 'Peralta Grant.' This was the evidence attacking the Surveyor General's report. </span></span></div><div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #282013; line-height: 0.23in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVCe4Aann-9ywTL5YYP-g-J9JroLbyXeYKaHUVWbi3KThdE1fwtwVtPVilkWXnJof4pCo-MGwhLpZT2ri1VhrN6nMds569HfUcEUY9CCzM_PVXda-Hgdx3QdPokRv7fAqV-hr39DWtMXfm/s1436/AA+006.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1436" data-original-width="1000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVCe4Aann-9ywTL5YYP-g-J9JroLbyXeYKaHUVWbi3KThdE1fwtwVtPVilkWXnJof4pCo-MGwhLpZT2ri1VhrN6nMds569HfUcEUY9CCzM_PVXda-Hgdx3QdPokRv7fAqV-hr39DWtMXfm/w446-h640/AA+006.jpg" width="446" /></a></div></span></div><div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #282013; line-height: 0.23in;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "times" , serif;">Along with this mass of documents, old and newly discovered, was a large oil portrait of the Marquis de Peralta, to put a face on the fraud. James Reavis-Peralta and Sophia , Baron and Baroness of Arizona, now moved back into their desert fortress of Arizola, where...</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #282013; line-height: 0.23in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAtFocqFMtqo8Y0_ZI9obyMBrZvuvkCOmSytvQLg6SA0QaBrXixcG9zolwFrxWZ5rS51YA5Xc75ZyFp9viABqxNp7Mc5LxSmERyVKn_SFMUsSLcMBcV6ZCWQP1gpOlR-6fE8eJkz-62L6RsoMYFcBycDVHLdOCG5RYK3wXTqYg5X7YD-3G7aOBOEOm-g/s1280/276251838_5763821563633023_8840554600327819649_n%20(5).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="796" data-original-width="1280" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAtFocqFMtqo8Y0_ZI9obyMBrZvuvkCOmSytvQLg6SA0QaBrXixcG9zolwFrxWZ5rS51YA5Xc75ZyFp9viABqxNp7Mc5LxSmERyVKn_SFMUsSLcMBcV6ZCWQP1gpOlR-6fE8eJkz-62L6RsoMYFcBycDVHLdOCG5RYK3wXTqYg5X7YD-3G7aOBOEOm-g/w640-h398/276251838_5763821563633023_8840554600327819649_n%20(5).jpg" width="640" /></a></div></span></div><div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #282013; line-height: 0.23in;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "times" , serif;">...on 8 March, 1893, Sophia argued her own case by giving birth to twin boys (above), thus proving, said James, that she had been born a twin herself. Also that spring, another group of investors were lined up to supply another $2,500 (today's equivalent of $60,000) a month, for operating expenses for the Arizona Development Corporation, and the Revis-Peralta household.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMO8UrItCuTjZInHtk4wyNUUfkn9RlBsl7Qt-OFBUfnhHPVKNjdqX7nkCtQLoneXGS-m-s1NJh7CindeJDI8VklZpw9aYvnwcRYmWIGghAMb4zoBzdGcv_Yleh87UAcgRqGuyzHddJkvcL/s1600/Baron++05.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="464" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMO8UrItCuTjZInHtk4wyNUUfkn9RlBsl7Qt-OFBUfnhHPVKNjdqX7nkCtQLoneXGS-m-s1NJh7CindeJDI8VklZpw9aYvnwcRYmWIGghAMb4zoBzdGcv_Yleh87UAcgRqGuyzHddJkvcL/w640-h464/Baron++05.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #282013; font-family: "times new roman" , "times" , serif; line-height: 0.23in;">At the same time the prosecution was also getting ready. The newly formed Court of Private Land Claims had hired Mathew Reynolds to defend the government, “"a lawyer of splendid ability”, and he fought to hire William Tipton as an expert on document analysis, Sevaro Mallet-Prevost, a Mexican-American, who was an expert in Mexican and American land laws, and Henry Flipper, an expert surveyor. </span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB7DqrSQ6sWMYl2DwMRkdP1kChucR5oAtL_xQueFVPwCr1gGoeUQUTYBaKf86r9e0UApLCRS9429-DKNXKuSeJY1VjUQlthmhJLnusuGZEZD3EmoVWI1G58FgRUROhStTqV-Ikj4lLKUD6eadfALTnnDsyb__H8nIyYKrV2y3zz7C4XNcmEY7fX_aQTg/s648/A%20001.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="486" data-original-width="648" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB7DqrSQ6sWMYl2DwMRkdP1kChucR5oAtL_xQueFVPwCr1gGoeUQUTYBaKf86r9e0UApLCRS9429-DKNXKuSeJY1VjUQlthmhJLnusuGZEZD3EmoVWI1G58FgRUROhStTqV-Ikj4lLKUD6eadfALTnnDsyb__H8nIyYKrV2y3zz7C4XNcmEY7fX_aQTg/w640-h480/A%20001.jpg" width="640" /></a></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #282013; font-family: "times new roman" , "times" , serif; line-height: 0.23in;">All these men and their staffs were a major investment by the government. But with his lawsuit Reavis had changed the economics of the case, making it reasonable to invest the time and money needed to prove Reavis was a fraud. It was James Reavis' first really big mistake. He had overplayed his hand.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4pjVOjcjOR4rO6kcFPW4hNFVjJk_qGgspRznZGJHiKP5vy06lSG8R7yd9DhNJfiFD7SKBYN96pEpPlsKWvli61GKnMrP8TSq8l79ij68wS6bE9iFPq4iQLXWeAfgk6FmC9S_FIcsj9E60/s1600/Baron++89.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4pjVOjcjOR4rO6kcFPW4hNFVjJk_qGgspRznZGJHiKP5vy06lSG8R7yd9DhNJfiFD7SKBYN96pEpPlsKWvli61GKnMrP8TSq8l79ij68wS6bE9iFPq4iQLXWeAfgk6FmC9S_FIcsj9E60/s400/Baron++89.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;">In January of 1894 Mallet-Prevost and Tipton went to Tucson to examine the original claim files. Once that task was completed, Mallet-Provist went on to Mexico City and Guadalajara. There he found that the Royal Cedula naming Don Miguel Peralta as the Baron of Arizona was real, but it had been altered. Originally it had been a Credula <span style="line-height: 0.23in;">advising the City of Guadalajara that the Count of Fuenclara was the new Viceroy of New Spain.</span></div><div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzROTkwbiMdHITAAYtOxiagbtyMUpE0C8UCr9qCWtDxh2Apb_qOXvrcuNEKEoaKnxdqiY6ejp1GQ9-YMswTQkwLR0s2ZmC-6sfZHAh81gH171DXNe9HDPQjPhf10_M3dpg0HBNdkbkUJWZBJTW1sW5wnvBWlyoWQ2O9G8KsiJeK7nCv7HKVY6KG1Yejw/s720/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(10).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="720" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzROTkwbiMdHITAAYtOxiagbtyMUpE0C8UCr9qCWtDxh2Apb_qOXvrcuNEKEoaKnxdqiY6ejp1GQ9-YMswTQkwLR0s2ZmC-6sfZHAh81gH171DXNe9HDPQjPhf10_M3dpg0HBNdkbkUJWZBJTW1sW5wnvBWlyoWQ2O9G8KsiJeK7nCv7HKVY6KG1Yejw/w640-h480/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(10).jpg" width="640" /></a></div></div><div style="line-height: 0.23in; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="line-height: 0.23in;">In June Mallet-Prevost moved on to old Spain. While in Seville he discovered that the Spanish authorities had actually caught Reavis trying to slip a doctored document into a library, and had issued a warrant for his arrest. But Reavis had used his connections with Spanish royalty to discourage the police from pursuing their case.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC4xXeBIdXyEdbMXDJvDbeLVarXd1K2AP06zw9gWNc30cF1YP0MrRqZAkiJsZ8OyFXK2vQO3Mq9D5mwa9AhN2T_o0y2ff07-omzvi9Em419WwJNKRE05NczxUIueodMcdAN7WV4fKlpWFA/s1600/Baron++27.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="481" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC4xXeBIdXyEdbMXDJvDbeLVarXd1K2AP06zw9gWNc30cF1YP0MrRqZAkiJsZ8OyFXK2vQO3Mq9D5mwa9AhN2T_o0y2ff07-omzvi9Em419WwJNKRE05NczxUIueodMcdAN7WV4fKlpWFA/s400/Baron++27.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Meanwhile, Mathew Reynolds had gone to California, where he was contacted by the lawyer for Mrs Elena Campbell de Nore, who had a signed contract between her husband and James Reavis, in which Miguel Nore (the husband) had been promised $50,000.00 if he lied for Reavis. Hell, it seems, hath no fury like a widow cut out of a payoff. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibn4q7Z0pRtN5izat4B9lbSaSIw9l4Rt7ELrpTzBZFQ1pKcjcTzjxXxFt3vqPVzEwjBixORATrXXC5kYWRJkPpmG8p3WaMvKGtpskKjnvrq4x_gqHoOLAHrNL3ZosCsvZlSiKfoxab-cBrebZ_p8eIRpbAyO_bbZoGrnSMCewyeSRoQI-fwu58YS7fyg/s1200/276251838_5763821563633023_8840554600327819649_n%20(4).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="675" data-original-width="1200" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibn4q7Z0pRtN5izat4B9lbSaSIw9l4Rt7ELrpTzBZFQ1pKcjcTzjxXxFt3vqPVzEwjBixORATrXXC5kYWRJkPpmG8p3WaMvKGtpskKjnvrq4x_gqHoOLAHrNL3ZosCsvZlSiKfoxab-cBrebZ_p8eIRpbAyO_bbZoGrnSMCewyeSRoQI-fwu58YS7fyg/w640-h360/276251838_5763821563633023_8840554600327819649_n%20(4).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Reynolds also had made a side trip to the grave of John Treadway, the friend of Don Peralta who had supposedly cared for the infant Sophia. According to the dates on his tombstone, Treadway had died six months before Sophia was supposedly born. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-6-AkhJLTcLJSDMMzeH3t-Ay2Cax1YA0o9SRyoOT1Vv3xz9elbJ10ki2YBu7tQO1eOS-wrKWS-Fme1-OpFvNBMw4-O0IrzhbLwWtGr1AjtLb1YrI5k07E4GFZZHi18kQzSsRwZpHrQ3J0IZrEnqzCoCVsx_bKW9-47vBzX9_c5FtHktrCVHM0IE30ow/s300/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(2).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="215" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-6-AkhJLTcLJSDMMzeH3t-Ay2Cax1YA0o9SRyoOT1Vv3xz9elbJ10ki2YBu7tQO1eOS-wrKWS-Fme1-OpFvNBMw4-O0IrzhbLwWtGr1AjtLb1YrI5k07E4GFZZHi18kQzSsRwZpHrQ3J0IZrEnqzCoCVsx_bKW9-47vBzX9_c5FtHktrCVHM0IE30ow/w459-h640/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(2).jpg" width="459" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">As details of the evidence being collected in Mexico, Spain and California began to leak out, Reavis' investors began to quietly drop away. As the money dried up, Reavis' lawyers quit, one after the other. By the time his case came to trial, James Reavis-Peralta was left flat broke, and representing himself in court..</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl9rVWnVpS7f425x7WRvSrhgVGYpoNc8j6b-S6i0k3criPQECDxyndffmkWmB4pvuzz0wuoykDAOOSNJ7dgZQZ64ToJvNEb2qK4g0NRkjaNMU7GE9E_Gn5-3BYaIopu3wzI8Jk4cHfF_Po/s1600/Baron++22.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl9rVWnVpS7f425x7WRvSrhgVGYpoNc8j6b-S6i0k3criPQECDxyndffmkWmB4pvuzz0wuoykDAOOSNJ7dgZQZ64ToJvNEb2qK4g0NRkjaNMU7GE9E_Gn5-3BYaIopu3wzI8Jk4cHfF_Po/w400-h640/Baron++22.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The trial was supposed to begin in Santa Fe, at 10:00 Monday morning, 2 June, 1895, but nobody from the Reavis-side showed up. The court adjourned until 1:00 that afternoon, when the only business was a motion from J.T. Kenney, a lawyer representing 106 Peralta family members from Arizona. They had filed a companion suit, hoping to catch some dribbles from Reavis' bounty, but Kenney told the court, “from a cursory examination... it (the Peralta Grant) is a fabrication...We wash our hands from all of it.” First thing Tuesday morning the court began taking testimony from government witnesses, even though Baron James Reavis-Peralta was still no where to be seen.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirAYke5_5aWlZ9bR8Gd5GcWr6TlGPa061cB9EguwZT0jA_4MXSxr8DdvVygrd_FdSbTC_8CAE99NpLb7WyBoAb8UYwHxWdwpQhGaeh-2P-I80o2oYZoJaWL4pEr1r3Qws_OxabQRpIfKGX/s1600/Baron++12.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirAYke5_5aWlZ9bR8Gd5GcWr6TlGPa061cB9EguwZT0jA_4MXSxr8DdvVygrd_FdSbTC_8CAE99NpLb7WyBoAb8UYwHxWdwpQhGaeh-2P-I80o2oYZoJaWL4pEr1r3Qws_OxabQRpIfKGX/s400/Baron++12.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The Government case was laid out in full. There never was any one named Don Miguel Nemecio Silva de Peralta de la Corboda. There had never been a grant of land issued to the nonexistent Baron. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqLWpKWHsAZ4i5R2UHyzrfH2ud2UPjdH1MDXNEcx7f0uTD43cDvdz-A_3gJs307zwz4G6UyFJXx0rcnK3CGQYO9nX8iw9yS7E4G94E_mCg404dJleFTbNe2C-270RV-4Emv3vIUICMtnZpxqtIkyqVK1xHs_bP5ECFIqUi5qQNN6f0IzFovEO0WLiG8Q/s720/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(9)_LI.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="720" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqLWpKWHsAZ4i5R2UHyzrfH2ud2UPjdH1MDXNEcx7f0uTD43cDvdz-A_3gJs307zwz4G6UyFJXx0rcnK3CGQYO9nX8iw9yS7E4G94E_mCg404dJleFTbNe2C-270RV-4Emv3vIUICMtnZpxqtIkyqVK1xHs_bP5ECFIqUi5qQNN6f0IzFovEO0WLiG8Q/w640-h480/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(9)_LI.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The nonexistent grant had not been approved by the Inquisition, and had not been confirmed by the Viceroy, who had died a few days after he did not sign the nonexistent grant. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKREyWQN2v9DDBre1m5zkPkFcnXjMwimGE_N2qPC9kZO_MqkqklEFxoK1kfJCrfsGwEBnyzrpHuaulasVeghEi2DYZ_iZv_V70oSFDcq1fsUgO_EjAgNE__6oz8d6h_lrH2QrXfoThrOYHqx_FZdflB-LX81R8vPxsaElDIDaZaHbxSpN-6U4hU2mdwA/s666/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(9).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="489" data-original-width="666" height="470" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKREyWQN2v9DDBre1m5zkPkFcnXjMwimGE_N2qPC9kZO_MqkqklEFxoK1kfJCrfsGwEBnyzrpHuaulasVeghEi2DYZ_iZv_V70oSFDcq1fsUgO_EjAgNE__6oz8d6h_lrH2QrXfoThrOYHqx_FZdflB-LX81R8vPxsaElDIDaZaHbxSpN-6U4hU2mdwA/w640-h470/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(9).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The nonexistent Don Miguel Peralta had never married, and he and his imaginary wife had never had children, who, of course had not had children, who had not have children, one of whom, needless to say, had not delivered sickly twins in an isolated California mission, where the nonexistent mother had not died along with her nonexistent male child...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-dyQQ7-GLLDs1kAOcWCTobg85nHITWhkDPI5YTy7Ik2Cua04RA3KWNXb7cmY9-NQsXc2IxJRELS3TvEN6rSJhcNjS44uTIqF5NfD4sCUhsP26L7k0xuTIhQeVorS1zdANW_U2ExUfRViWCPbFk4rl5joFlaTTo0SWWRoNkHv_T_sSfmiJ1H7iA6MwZg/s658/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(8)_LI.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="474" data-original-width="658" height="462" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-dyQQ7-GLLDs1kAOcWCTobg85nHITWhkDPI5YTy7Ik2Cua04RA3KWNXb7cmY9-NQsXc2IxJRELS3TvEN6rSJhcNjS44uTIqF5NfD4sCUhsP26L7k0xuTIhQeVorS1zdANW_U2ExUfRViWCPbFk4rl5joFlaTTo0SWWRoNkHv_T_sSfmiJ1H7iA6MwZg/w640-h462/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(8)_LI.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>...and there had been no Sophia Peralta who survived, because her mother had never existed. The friend of the nonresistant Baron Parlata had existed - John A. Treadway. He was real. But he had died six months before the nonexistent Sophia Peralta had not been born.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjfEel-6fDkBBdNzZEXy3TuPGqeQRvnpPkcMr_bmbfjOkD-QlJJTQpwqnqyvhKTEOnHCy3IIIkjP4sQm0HOAGr8ujuO9-7gRrGrS1snmv66D8RssFPwY_jCE8M5r0t7C9QqbpVZruq1tiX/s1600/Baron++52.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjfEel-6fDkBBdNzZEXy3TuPGqeQRvnpPkcMr_bmbfjOkD-QlJJTQpwqnqyvhKTEOnHCy3IIIkjP4sQm0HOAGr8ujuO9-7gRrGrS1snmv66D8RssFPwY_jCE8M5r0t7C9QqbpVZruq1tiX/s400/Baron++52.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Documents supporting the Peralta claim had been forged, usually badly, and inserted into existing files and books. Legitimate entries in diaries and record books had been erased to make room for forged names and titles. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJt4aatFT38qm1wpNEcefqmLe2MUXgp_MDNQtElEczOmLB4Lm2UdBw506EKBI0OVzChNVGoK-8Sil_GikMLqnEZn27yncVXevmBmY41SP8NmMdinY3QiBMyJsNW2lf7Zsa6kVx1RaWbNS7SfETt4KbXrd_SRb6ZO12Vi3zEBgFhBcNdxP0XnsyaTG5FA/s731/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(8).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="282" data-original-width="731" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJt4aatFT38qm1wpNEcefqmLe2MUXgp_MDNQtElEczOmLB4Lm2UdBw506EKBI0OVzChNVGoK-8Sil_GikMLqnEZn27yncVXevmBmY41SP8NmMdinY3QiBMyJsNW2lf7Zsa6kVx1RaWbNS7SfETt4KbXrd_SRb6ZO12Vi3zEBgFhBcNdxP0XnsyaTG5FA/w640-h246/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(8).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The entire Peralta case was a tale of lies, cheats and broken promises, and had survived in the courts as long as it did only because of the support by rich and powerful Collis Huntington and Charles Crocker and their ilk, who had become rich and powerful because they had no scruples about lying and cheating to make money.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZQhI01t01HxMZxmBAPdMzOH75YCTXlIN40GOHrL_mD_FXEiG4XNV3_Gb8JOg_mgUglX6OxjAyC9SYrwrYIZd2J3vMRUFeOCBhEpBAoPWiTCorOY6NI0j3VC9Q3mU3SeLROB3np_mfJ1B2/s1600/Baron++02.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZQhI01t01HxMZxmBAPdMzOH75YCTXlIN40GOHrL_mD_FXEiG4XNV3_Gb8JOg_mgUglX6OxjAyC9SYrwrYIZd2J3vMRUFeOCBhEpBAoPWiTCorOY6NI0j3VC9Q3mU3SeLROB3np_mfJ1B2/w562-h640/Baron++02.jpg" width="562" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Finally, on 10 June, 1895, the Baron of Arizona, James Reavis-Peralta showed up in the flesh in court in Santa Fe, New Mexico, to answer the Government's charges. He should have stayed in bed.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpewe93L8mJNCZ7h0ZQ3PpQQ78BVr-zf03hX17NJ2cjOid2mOaBmk4cmQitCqbPSXto0GoAlJXQuPwwMilxCgu41IS8q6uV3dpSOJf0nRFkeBrr1ICE5zUFGz3rzkKIoDHDEw7hSWs_Ucu/s1600/Baron++99.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpewe93L8mJNCZ7h0ZQ3PpQQ78BVr-zf03hX17NJ2cjOid2mOaBmk4cmQitCqbPSXto0GoAlJXQuPwwMilxCgu41IS8q6uV3dpSOJf0nRFkeBrr1ICE5zUFGz3rzkKIoDHDEw7hSWs_Ucu/w640-h480/Baron++99.png" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large; text-align: left;">- 30 -</span></div>Kimit Mustonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03809428003905885379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5034791890201777099.post-32499819776376853662024-03-08T09:00:00.007-05:002024-03-08T09:00:00.144-05:00GREAT EXPECTATIONS Chapter Eight<p> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-u6HBf5NU2jfzGiqjrf4HtFquiM3W7vTul-zecDh1lRi6hZFUIgJRStOiYsQnmxE_dLaGt3D3qb_lJecKMpODyyYfkqCBZ6ELDCFForKFBAHWDTipx_feCsCqUiYRUEPcP5YrJ11NziVC/s599/AA+001.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="599" data-original-width="527" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-u6HBf5NU2jfzGiqjrf4HtFquiM3W7vTul-zecDh1lRi6hZFUIgJRStOiYsQnmxE_dLaGt3D3qb_lJecKMpODyyYfkqCBZ6ELDCFForKFBAHWDTipx_feCsCqUiYRUEPcP5YrJ11NziVC/w564-h640/AA+001.jpg" width="564" /></a></p><p>I doubt James Reavis-Peralta (above), could have imagined a worse person to review his new filing for the Peralta grant than Royal A. Johnson. They New York lawyer's son had come west out of curiosity, and been one of the clerks who had received the original voluminous Perlata Grant filing in 1883. And from that morning he'd been suspicious of Reevis.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgydH9Z6KL7NOji41frT0_E_oAQn5HKar3yAOVGxJkQJ8Qbe-FfJuquMHaUYuY25aZMov4SjFZWzYXGKIu1dzEjUZYNsviE4zdsZKYnQRHqWQ9Lo8qa3WA4VrWX-LEpTTRWXC2AKGTE8K8n/s1600/Baron+106.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgydH9Z6KL7NOji41frT0_E_oAQn5HKar3yAOVGxJkQJ8Qbe-FfJuquMHaUYuY25aZMov4SjFZWzYXGKIu1dzEjUZYNsviE4zdsZKYnQRHqWQ9Lo8qa3WA4VrWX-LEpTTRWXC2AKGTE8K8n/s400/Baron+106.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Then in 1884 Democrat Grover Cleveland won the White House, and in the wholesale shifting of political favors, Royal was replaced as Surveyor General by the Democrat John C. Hise, a realtor and the son of rancher from Payson, Arizona. Thus, when Reavis-Peralta filed his new claim, it was John Hise who was to pass judgment on the it. However, Hise was also suspicious of Reavis, and delayed making his decision. And then 1888 the Republican Benjamin Harrison was elected President, and in July of 1889 Royal Johnson, the one man who knew almost as much about the Peralta Grant as James Reavis, was back in as Surveyor General.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDb9aozrdqTlSQNasxvGIAVPCk3MSXUvVWD18hvGJBaX4-JR1nvDpxnR7D6lADsFQt5Y4FKukYsnQpsZ5UvBvqhPaOzvBTUA09LBpkpwCC0fV9Bj_BlqB74UGtkDYy0HYnuSCZAth6mM9f/s1600/Baron++05.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="464" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDb9aozrdqTlSQNasxvGIAVPCk3MSXUvVWD18hvGJBaX4-JR1nvDpxnR7D6lADsFQt5Y4FKukYsnQpsZ5UvBvqhPaOzvBTUA09LBpkpwCC0fV9Bj_BlqB74UGtkDYy0HYnuSCZAth6mM9f/s400/Baron++05.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Even during the four years he was out of office, Royal had continued to investigate the grant. So in September, when the acting United States Commissioner of Land sent Royal a letter asking, "please report to me the exact condition of said grant...and all the information you can obtain in regard to it.", Royal was loaded and ready to fire. His broadside was released on 12 October (Columbus day), 1889 and the title said it all; “Adverse Report of the Surveyor General of Arizona, Royal A. Johnson, upon the alleged Peralta Grant”. The word “alleged” must have particularly stung Reavis.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizMSI2yghJfXX4fHR_NDe1LH9xfWMU0HxePN_ShWulIZKFaJLHxI5kz9zCh1d2PTBj8QFKxdbqP9OnvkPXbU9-4nAQI2clRDSK_eOSIGCnF45La-gWrMJ3IeCMLgeGFGktrvtVu9jnzLwe/s1600/Baron+123.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizMSI2yghJfXX4fHR_NDe1LH9xfWMU0HxePN_ShWulIZKFaJLHxI5kz9zCh1d2PTBj8QFKxdbqP9OnvkPXbU9-4nAQI2clRDSK_eOSIGCnF45La-gWrMJ3IeCMLgeGFGktrvtVu9jnzLwe/s400/Baron+123.jpg" width="355" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">First, Johnson noted that the Royal Cedula, the document which had supposedly started the entire enterprise, was written in a form different than every other Royal Cedula every issued, and in such bad Spanish that Royal suggested it must have been written by an American using “bad California Spanish”. In addition the seal on the Royal Cedula had been printed on the page, and not impressed into it, as it was in every other Credula. Finally, the signatures had been made with a steel pen, not invented until a century after the 1748 date on the page.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUjzhibTewuaQb1bQW1VgKJBXStkuRvQhA05Wy0GS5I522wGFUfCwhbsKkjeUESiEryisCRQI7krJKJ-zbSiFU0uviB3gpz0qLuz7RGTjvlUIaPmlJdPC8pXMa17u16Tl9e73Nsd_4uUZR/s1600/Baron++15.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUjzhibTewuaQb1bQW1VgKJBXStkuRvQhA05Wy0GS5I522wGFUfCwhbsKkjeUESiEryisCRQI7krJKJ-zbSiFU0uviB3gpz0qLuz7RGTjvlUIaPmlJdPC8pXMa17u16Tl9e73Nsd_4uUZR/s400/Baron++15.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Considering the report of the "Mexican Holy Inquisition", Royal observed that the seal was legitimate, but it had been glued on the page and not impressed, and it was cracked and had a brown tinge, suggesting it had been heated and removed from another document. And when discussing the Viceroy's decree directly awarding the grant, Royal wrote, “No certificate of a modern date nor any other reliable certification appears on the copies which would point to the originals being at present in the custody of some custodian of archives where they could be readily located and seen...to enable me to ascertain the whereabouts of originals or to prove their existence, and if they were to be obtained it is the duty of the claimants to produce them or to obtain and submit undoubted proof of their existence in their proper archives ... .”</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6OEhuCKYnjNFmvN0cMp5_VnHhJkIO_r6GBQ3q6mSRBTdODbSODiXwOxpDbLyUf4yH8zi38X7V2r4aqeHLTq99sl1SzrSulmZN_y1HdFoKpd4zgCgQIawf5ZoT-M5FB1E9zABJ2YHyiN4S/s1600/Baron++22.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6OEhuCKYnjNFmvN0cMp5_VnHhJkIO_r6GBQ3q6mSRBTdODbSODiXwOxpDbLyUf4yH8zi38X7V2r4aqeHLTq99sl1SzrSulmZN_y1HdFoKpd4zgCgQIawf5ZoT-M5FB1E9zABJ2YHyiN4S/s400/Baron++22.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">In fact, at times the Surveyor General seemed to be scolding Reavis. “...it seems in poor taste that the old books of the San Xavier Mission, wherein were recorded the births, marriages and deaths of persons under the cognizance of the Church, should be selected to have inserted, and rudely inserted, among its withered leaves a copy of the grant of Peralta by the viceroy, and a copy of Peralta’s will." </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqkUobmNN_1GNePL2ToEQOeGIX6ksXyZkmeokKh2KjUocQfo6SfB9Hob_WyceF2haQrlGhEhbGLWuiZY0JVVqcc1EL2god4eHlOmwiTGoXAIIKmCgztkwtfATpiNMnsOSr98rEiMKSt-c-K_s6PsKaKpYR6J3XoCgChK__4CLNn3eouF66FM228TUARA/s720/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(9)_LI.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="720" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqkUobmNN_1GNePL2ToEQOeGIX6ksXyZkmeokKh2KjUocQfo6SfB9Hob_WyceF2haQrlGhEhbGLWuiZY0JVVqcc1EL2god4eHlOmwiTGoXAIIKmCgztkwtfATpiNMnsOSr98rEiMKSt-c-K_s6PsKaKpYR6J3XoCgChK__4CLNn3eouF66FM228TUARA/w640-h480/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(9)_LI.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Royal went on to point out the obvious signs of a forgery committed under time constraints and in difficult places. "In the first place, the (forgery) is pasted in at right angles to the other sheets and is one-third larger than the regular sheets. The upper end of the pasted-in sheet is inserted in that part of the binding that holds the back of the large book together, instead of being in regular order...”</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNmkSTecd8RnXmMoin35I2DohpZOcvwuBR3zyu9Xs0wAZOiOt6b9HVcpKcJi5ky3X2gsvAJ3CTfNw5l-f4IMMChYU5llGXaUOKYHWoLtVmXfXl6Os3cPWvfjq65aZQwWbC0Gl39eyDvYKE/s1600/Baron++23.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNmkSTecd8RnXmMoin35I2DohpZOcvwuBR3zyu9Xs0wAZOiOt6b9HVcpKcJi5ky3X2gsvAJ3CTfNw5l-f4IMMChYU5llGXaUOKYHWoLtVmXfXl6Os3cPWvfjq65aZQwWbC0Gl39eyDvYKE/s400/Baron++23.jpg" width="433" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Royal further noted that under the laws existing during the 16<sup>th</sup> century, the King would not have communicated to the Viceroy of New Spain, but rather through the bureaucracy, to the Council of the Indies, who would have then contacted the Viceroy. And there was no copy of the Peralta Grant in the Council's archives. And, asked Johnson, why was there no record or even mention of the noble deeds achieved by Maguel Peralta to justify this grant, anywhere in any other records? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZmMjMpnrMFoerY2KXgTzVmgdmLlySwnfPbCGRdENWGGC0JzqqT1Sh1x3U7HjSN9_TvmoL3uuJMI_CjucVl6fUyqyLHGvNxW8ZOORub5YDTY-jSjGc5VwJ0VL6_WzjuhfJXCguEPpAUF1hS6rTG002_OhpbdtSfEqFWtrUoxtQQZnRBGoHcBCABNM1HA/s720/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(10).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="720" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZmMjMpnrMFoerY2KXgTzVmgdmLlySwnfPbCGRdENWGGC0JzqqT1Sh1x3U7HjSN9_TvmoL3uuJMI_CjucVl6fUyqyLHGvNxW8ZOORub5YDTY-jSjGc5VwJ0VL6_WzjuhfJXCguEPpAUF1hS6rTG002_OhpbdtSfEqFWtrUoxtQQZnRBGoHcBCABNM1HA/w640-h480/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(10).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Given that this was the largest individual land grant made in the Americas by the Spanish crown, should not the achievement equal its reward? Noted Johnson, Spanish law at the time said, “No memorial from any person whatever shall be received for services which shall not be supported by certificates from viceroys, Generals, or other chiefs under whom such services shall have been performed, except those persons who shall have served in the councils.” And, again, the Council of the Indies had no record of the Peralta grant.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGWsuwxXcamdHL8oLsO6NrZZes6_aJtPVTjAC5gs1zHh2RyKgcWOQX-22MCeunJQ1smdb3uI32T5WTK57okutxv5zHpxr0mVRt8U6jp8SnpXcW4EJnrwhMQqGjtetCCJntFYMMktlRmlKYe4NZ5-3_IIs1esUKrLztX5CaqarN5L7tdcaa8OVZ5Z4AJA/s720/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(11).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="720" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGWsuwxXcamdHL8oLsO6NrZZes6_aJtPVTjAC5gs1zHh2RyKgcWOQX-22MCeunJQ1smdb3uI32T5WTK57okutxv5zHpxr0mVRt8U6jp8SnpXcW4EJnrwhMQqGjtetCCJntFYMMktlRmlKYe4NZ5-3_IIs1esUKrLztX5CaqarN5L7tdcaa8OVZ5Z4AJA/w640-h480/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(11).jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Royal also noted that although the Inquisition was extremely powerful in Mexico, no obsessive Spanish bureaucrat – and any good bureaucrat is obsessive - would have asked that body to investigate the Peralta Grant. It should have been reviewed by the Audiencia Guadalajara Nuev Galidia. And in those records there was no mention of the Peralta Grant.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnjBdQIv6hXZq8A_38OaOXbJkLZObvxDuxA5ESJoD8KOTyNHVgs6BTCvED2-OKSmcDihbRW9gJThYGPMHKJHU7Fc22Zeln4NZAcJGDqU7hjMkMVarwskUjzNeo_9bLCABpOS_z26Ok2G8G6vBE1U4evI5RV71sczQxUDYr5LKJCRSA5goDBGMPdE12rg/s999/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(5).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="785" data-original-width="999" height="502" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnjBdQIv6hXZq8A_38OaOXbJkLZObvxDuxA5ESJoD8KOTyNHVgs6BTCvED2-OKSmcDihbRW9gJThYGPMHKJHU7Fc22Zeln4NZAcJGDqU7hjMkMVarwskUjzNeo_9bLCABpOS_z26Ok2G8G6vBE1U4evI5RV71sczQxUDYr5LKJCRSA5goDBGMPdE12rg/w640-h502/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(5).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Then, Royal Johnson dealt with the conflicts between the 1883 and 1887 claims. Noted the Surveyor General, if the 1864 Willing bill of sale was legitimate, then that superseded Sophia's inheritance. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgclUSQIg7L8b9izMPuxSHXqHqzKHsXy1-sDf3Srb1Tj9gyZ2gaShWeOFd0edmKAQYdafM_Yj_a7XBgrd3eqGu9b24-sPqD9_hcHoMtORH8ze36RUDQTClFc4S9iaxYrX690cXOz_jhFTk1Qw-mOncFHdx-FrR4K9Phg6UeDutKOW8iYtEjO-EmsyY1BQ/s400/276251838_5763821563633023_8840554600327819649_n%20(5).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="300" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgclUSQIg7L8b9izMPuxSHXqHqzKHsXy1-sDf3Srb1Tj9gyZ2gaShWeOFd0edmKAQYdafM_Yj_a7XBgrd3eqGu9b24-sPqD9_hcHoMtORH8ze36RUDQTClFc4S9iaxYrX690cXOz_jhFTk1Qw-mOncFHdx-FrR4K9Phg6UeDutKOW8iYtEjO-EmsyY1BQ/w480-h640/276251838_5763821563633023_8840554600327819649_n%20(5).jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">And, as to the photograph of Sophia standing next to the “Inicial Monument” (above), Johnson showed that the Peralta family crest carved into the rock was, in reality, a native American holography.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHi5eJofik4f6P1gT9PbacW_UbiEkgGWH_xw7XXPpE7JTLe1gXBfeaKbvp4mTSGfbHh1YaPl82dI0_jzElV9xOFsFuPraaUF2YruWdg9phLARRv8XKsTI_-tWmhBR7fOIjZ5434IJfsXoC/s1600/Baron++16.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="315" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHi5eJofik4f6P1gT9PbacW_UbiEkgGWH_xw7XXPpE7JTLe1gXBfeaKbvp4mTSGfbHh1YaPl82dI0_jzElV9xOFsFuPraaUF2YruWdg9phLARRv8XKsTI_-tWmhBR7fOIjZ5434IJfsXoC/s400/Baron++16.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The report went on to detail the vagueness of the boundaries of the claim, pointing out that under long established property law in America and in Mexico, you cannot claim what you cannot locate. “Speedy and final action should be had on this base claim in order that the people of this territory may enjoy their homes with peace of mind. And parties guilty of forgery or the fabrication of papers that have caused so much trouble should be vigorously prosecuted by the government and that without delay. I recommend that the alleged grant should not be confirmed as it is prayed for, it being to my mind without the slightest foundation in fact and utterly void.”</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhmJu8fBHbxuaCkxa54L-e3_JOkUgU3wFkV1J_LjiCVUlfPFaWnfQ-kpsuKYw4urFNVxnBTOO6wVkHg1lVGY-nlEWEkNc2wqkDNCIrbSbTKX1SrtRWST-O9iDYakDz20pk0_SB8gRf-rnm/s1600/Baron++08.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="483" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhmJu8fBHbxuaCkxa54L-e3_JOkUgU3wFkV1J_LjiCVUlfPFaWnfQ-kpsuKYw4urFNVxnBTOO6wVkHg1lVGY-nlEWEkNc2wqkDNCIrbSbTKX1SrtRWST-O9iDYakDz20pk0_SB8gRf-rnm/s400/Baron++08.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The Baron of Arizona, James Reavis-Peralta, responded as any good con man would respond when he was caught red handed. He sued the United States government for $11 million.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaOS2x_vVEsdwTGDnq5FeIWsILLAYNsKmMWL9CBhK_MnwywzeXrG1CM0QQ1BiTMJUaJa6eiDAX71xFqxutr06lTUvD3liZs1xmqe6fLt7pkhGDm-gFccBtbYBc4wk1-T1HTKJmeF1Xzm0G/s1600/Baron++25.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="505" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaOS2x_vVEsdwTGDnq5FeIWsILLAYNsKmMWL9CBhK_MnwywzeXrG1CM0QQ1BiTMJUaJa6eiDAX71xFqxutr06lTUvD3liZs1xmqe6fLt7pkhGDm-gFccBtbYBc4wk1-T1HTKJmeF1Xzm0G/s400/Baron++25.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large; text-align: left;">- 30 -</span></div>Kimit Mustonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03809428003905885379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5034791890201777099.post-60618548567605874862024-03-07T09:00:00.011-05:002024-03-07T09:00:00.142-05:00GREAT EXPECTATIONS Chapter Seven<p> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg714x7fyfkc7yDmTnC38Qg2IwiYXSQCJUIw9AQLia2aoxjCXM-lkDdxoi0Eo8YKdnrlW2Flfb7G2RaMuuHeo5c_nR-4PiCXppplAMvstDP3MCUEbByk7Do_tZwoUfZRT0cRsCV2fHOQHl8/s400/AA+004.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="301" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg714x7fyfkc7yDmTnC38Qg2IwiYXSQCJUIw9AQLia2aoxjCXM-lkDdxoi0Eo8YKdnrlW2Flfb7G2RaMuuHeo5c_nR-4PiCXppplAMvstDP3MCUEbByk7Do_tZwoUfZRT0cRsCV2fHOQHl8/w482-h640/AA+004.jpg" width="482" /></a></p><p></p><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I think the most heinous crime James Reavis committed was what was he did to the woman known only as Sophia. She was an orphan, a woman and Latino, living in a sexist, racist culture. And then she met a stranger who told her that she was from a noble family. And after a decade of teasing her and supporting her personal fairy tale, all he asked in return was that she marry him. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2h1p2O84q8mHONb-QiblmSCgDFVMhJPhwsIKeze8bX63T_TFUHnubQFl9BsH3kopPR-Ddb0DYXOHepOW1tDTqjgJNAaCBMDXg3ZQprpx6z_TmlPAJsVpPbKs_-J_n2_UfrN91rdAXVi4J/s873/AA+003+%25282%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="581" data-original-width="873" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2h1p2O84q8mHONb-QiblmSCgDFVMhJPhwsIKeze8bX63T_TFUHnubQFl9BsH3kopPR-Ddb0DYXOHepOW1tDTqjgJNAaCBMDXg3ZQprpx6z_TmlPAJsVpPbKs_-J_n2_UfrN91rdAXVi4J/w640-h426/AA+003+%25282%2529.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">In 1877 Sophia was an orphan servant girl in a hotel in the Stanislaus River ferry crossing village of Knights Landing (above), California – 20 miles north-west of Sacramento. She was facing a bleak future. The opening of the transcontinental railroad sent the community into a decline, the hotels and rooming houses closing one by one. The appearance of Reavis saved her.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS2Z76JAjJUtECRrl3KZ3JCuyQ3LnTO49dAKN9x_VEmlaOXCBvzNEZ_Uf9wvtvG_yhdczewhl6o4SI-JysoiNYQgAyyd5qZf80BotksfW9qYlDyN-kqJI97kuZPaKlF33gEqbHazv_L8Ww/s1409/AA+002.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="1409" height="290" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS2Z76JAjJUtECRrl3KZ3JCuyQ3LnTO49dAKN9x_VEmlaOXCBvzNEZ_Uf9wvtvG_yhdczewhl6o4SI-JysoiNYQgAyyd5qZf80BotksfW9qYlDyN-kqJI97kuZPaKlF33gEqbHazv_L8Ww/w640-h290/AA+002.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">They were married on 31 December, 1882, right after his second scheme to steal from the citizens of Arizona faltered. And in January, she was enrolled in a convent school, to train her in the social skills expected of a well born lady. And while the girl began her studies, Reavis continued on to San Francisco. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh09YT7yiYjOGhogPwxblXF8XrDTIZBampcQ29EhAQsJi3u7gPzdS2q7a5e2FTc_fa5BXd0a9AkZeDN6E52jSMCjFkQBoBoypVV9w7Q82DW9SV0izB-kftj_LccvR6kcJ5a-DzUT7pqY1Vy/s1600/Baron++76.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh09YT7yiYjOGhogPwxblXF8XrDTIZBampcQ29EhAQsJi3u7gPzdS2q7a5e2FTc_fa5BXd0a9AkZeDN6E52jSMCjFkQBoBoypVV9w7Q82DW9SV0izB-kftj_LccvR6kcJ5a-DzUT7pqY1Vy/s640/Baron++76.jpg" width="465" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">There were lengthy planning sessions with Collis Huntington and Charles Crocker (above) and other financial supporters. After a few weeks Reavis collected letters of introduction to several important Washington power players. He also met with San Francisco banker Maurice Herr, who put up $25,000 to fund "The Arizona Development Corporation". Where Reavis' "Peralta Grant" had only sought to blackmail the people of Arizona, this corporation could add investors world wide to its list of victims. Reavis had finally learned the fundamental lesson of capitalism - that a thief is a man who robs a bank, while a financial wizard is a a man who robs everybody. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggoE8Bco7TJjYVDsztXajcYN5Jhq_fruLI2XGV_BeMNI12vyS4wHQr8wqyTR6_hHylAUSKmhT-q5u8SseqCAw02gvu1zCkoWutUG43MuL1yMJoCdCGl2McHQmZ9y4FKHrjd2RaKk94VGAC/s649/AA+002.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="497" data-original-width="649" height="490" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggoE8Bco7TJjYVDsztXajcYN5Jhq_fruLI2XGV_BeMNI12vyS4wHQr8wqyTR6_hHylAUSKmhT-q5u8SseqCAw02gvu1zCkoWutUG43MuL1yMJoCdCGl2McHQmZ9y4FKHrjd2RaKk94VGAC/w640-h490/AA+002.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">At the same time James Reavis met John W. Mackay (above), whose holdings in the Comestock Lode produced half of all the silver mined in the United States each year. Mackay wanted to get an inside track on the Peralta Grant, and offered to finance Reavis' new Spanish research, paying him a stipend of $500 (the modern equivalent of $11,500). a month. And , after pausing to collect his "wife", the James Reavis party set out for Spain, traveling in style. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsnJMWgI22t3TvLQ_nUGUyJcmSC4ShQz73t5lsatGnXUGIbw7f4Y2uK8HCjeaJdxKboM3rx0_4qXMhyphenhyphenoCLGGFEAmIIOqSgvYNGZBHeY6BZgBCcLPoYwD1rf50P2ino2dsjMGhwghfa0nBg/s1600/Baron++98.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsnJMWgI22t3TvLQ_nUGUyJcmSC4ShQz73t5lsatGnXUGIbw7f4Y2uK8HCjeaJdxKboM3rx0_4qXMhyphenhyphenoCLGGFEAmIIOqSgvYNGZBHeY6BZgBCcLPoYwD1rf50P2ino2dsjMGhwghfa0nBg/s400/Baron++98.png" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">They first stopped off in New York, where Reavis used his letters of introduction to bond with powerful Senator Roscoe Conkling, former Congressman and lobbyist Dwight Townsend and Bankers Henry Potter and Hector de Castro. A few weeks later the Reavis party boarded ship for Spain; the reprobate ex-lawyer Cyril Baratt, the short, violent thug Pedro Cuervo, the newly minted lady, Baroness Sophia Reavis ne Peralta , and a new version of James Reavis himself, with his new title – James Reavis -Peralta, Baron of Arizona.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNxigBz2U8Ga1K_eNumc2YULZDWIJhD9UlES5C9OCYayuaMrSW8y4qu8f-FUoajv6tqG8ZXAqmxvXPSxIrfZPQj-HIp3Gnitv-S2MmPg_z37dyLSxjS_-jqdmalePITDbhtWcSMbbeYpGZ/s1600/Baron+121.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNxigBz2U8Ga1K_eNumc2YULZDWIJhD9UlES5C9OCYayuaMrSW8y4qu8f-FUoajv6tqG8ZXAqmxvXPSxIrfZPQj-HIp3Gnitv-S2MmPg_z37dyLSxjS_-jqdmalePITDbhtWcSMbbeYpGZ/s400/Baron+121.jpg" width="411" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Once again, luck was with Reavis. His party arrived in Spain at the perfect moment. The 27 year old Alfonso XII (above - aka “The King without good fortune":) was entering his 10<sup>th</sup> gilded year on the throne, his monarchy having been restored at the end of December 1874. Valuing noble blood was de regueire in Spain at this time. And fortuitously for Spanish society, at this opportune moment, a long lost New World royal cousin appeared, the lovely, regal Sophia Peralta, and her charming, debonair paramour, the man who had rescued her from commonality, James Reavis-Peralta. The public and the nobility were both primed to see her as Reavis wanted her seen - as a fairy tale come true.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9NEL1YZo09ibHBM7LVG2YcezCuzLIGJ_6j-rvxQ7QskeXW2TPzHmn-hsrOsDeIBG6KoU4DhlCjPUDW5aDocMvcrEigXdoHEK6XDfoXJImSXPxeHJzieyqz9ZmTC812OYxhC3dLwLRbbrT/s1600/Baron++94.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9NEL1YZo09ibHBM7LVG2YcezCuzLIGJ_6j-rvxQ7QskeXW2TPzHmn-hsrOsDeIBG6KoU4DhlCjPUDW5aDocMvcrEigXdoHEK6XDfoXJImSXPxeHJzieyqz9ZmTC812OYxhC3dLwLRbbrT/s400/Baron++94.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Reavis made a tour of the great cathedrals of Madrid. The civil government of the Spanish municipios had only begun recording births and deaths in 1831. Records of all christenings, deaths and weddings before that could be found only in church records, in the cathedrals, like Iglesia de San Andrés or the San Pedro el Viejo for example. It took weeks before James was able to "discover" the codicil to the will of Don Miguel Perlata, leaving everything he owned, including the Peralta grant, to his only surviving daughter, Sophia. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpDMJPEAYifBTshkJkHqA-sy612aTRqT8H-QLC4r9Dx-w6ksnwBgUozl79y9vf65-XDSFE6koGMb34_Xialz5ZTxvrPA3E_VR4RWhQfjD4qcyTyajPPC9hbP_qSPVuL3VkLz7IRSYARsbO/s1600/Baron++17.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpDMJPEAYifBTshkJkHqA-sy612aTRqT8H-QLC4r9Dx-w6ksnwBgUozl79y9vf65-XDSFE6koGMb34_Xialz5ZTxvrPA3E_VR4RWhQfjD4qcyTyajPPC9hbP_qSPVuL3VkLz7IRSYARsbO/s400/Baron++17.jpg" width="387" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">When he was not laboring alone over the ancient dusty documents (and covering new ones with dust), Reavis-Peralta was wandering through the second hand shops and flea markets of Madrid, buying the occasional painting or daguerreotype of a forgotten nobility, who had lost their fortune during the brief Spanish Republic - before Alfonso's restoration. James picked those which showed a resemblance to Sophia, in other words those which could be presented as being her ancestors. And in his weaving the tale to his young bride, they became her ancestors. And the living members of the actual Peralta family were as willing to believe that this rich American had discovered an image of their long lost distant cousins. Wasn't she graceful? Didn't she carry herself like a baroness? You do not learn grace and culture in a California Catholic finishing school. Sophia Peralta Revis was obviously born with noble blood.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2Bfv4VoMS1vukWzs-YUMk0Hg68R-P4lKQPoJAqxiJTzeWqEKLz9hjtShpezKBroctY2Kd9h-eCpVmw26vfItHhOILUHzxMiFcUcLnh_z7E0mECcKDnGKhrP3CyuJpaKf8xOAdUeeV7Ug0/s1600/Baron++28.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="481" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2Bfv4VoMS1vukWzs-YUMk0Hg68R-P4lKQPoJAqxiJTzeWqEKLz9hjtShpezKBroctY2Kd9h-eCpVmw26vfItHhOILUHzxMiFcUcLnh_z7E0mECcKDnGKhrP3CyuJpaKf8xOAdUeeV7Ug0/s400/Baron++28.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">In December of 1885 the King, Alfonso XII, fell ill with tuberculosis and died. He was succeeded by his pregnant wife, Queen Maria Christina. Her son, and the new king, would not be born until five months later. By then, the delightful Baroness Sophia Peralta Revis and her gracious American husband were so accepted by the nobility, they were even presented to the Queen. Then, in a cloud of fond farewells, the noble couple returned to America, arriving in New York City in November of 1886</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpwWJOEOSiNXJW77ZxBWyLOEl3bwk3COQFowa65SXKcw6RJvOGEn7tnd5i2h6qUcNV5gTlOwLPpEO1L1aaYrevQG-nEkLPR_HtTLNlvyiO9Jvfgx-s9Z_DRTP4eKb7V-H9SA1nbE_shkXc/s1600/Baron+122.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpwWJOEOSiNXJW77ZxBWyLOEl3bwk3COQFowa65SXKcw6RJvOGEn7tnd5i2h6qUcNV5gTlOwLPpEO1L1aaYrevQG-nEkLPR_HtTLNlvyiO9Jvfgx-s9Z_DRTP4eKb7V-H9SA1nbE_shkXc/s400/Baron+122.jpg" width="505" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">As they say, everybody loves a winner, and the Peralta brand was clearly winning. On their return to America they received the endorsement the powerful Missouri Republican James Broadhead (above), who endorsed the claim, referring to James Reavis-Peralta as, “a man of remarkable energy and persistence."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWv45PUd7raSFWsDcSdSKAmck7B6XJ3WXug0Yctgmmlhs6THin_IAemscODFOIv_jtILMqRZjF5N228TZ4KGQI4mRLpNwTj8P5RWLjRNQUZ_l_60nsRWydYcyUrcyAeKNEVYUDEYFs0x6P/s1600/AA+002.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1236" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWv45PUd7raSFWsDcSdSKAmck7B6XJ3WXug0Yctgmmlhs6THin_IAemscODFOIv_jtILMqRZjF5N228TZ4KGQI4mRLpNwTj8P5RWLjRNQUZ_l_60nsRWydYcyUrcyAeKNEVYUDEYFs0x6P/w494-h640/AA+002.jpg" width="494" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Powerful Republican Senator Roscoe Conkling (above) vouched for the validity of the claim, and said he believed Sophia “to be the person she believes herself to be...the lineal descendant of the original grantee.” Back in California in 1887, James was able to add to his list of supporting documents a testimonial from Alfred Sherwood, of San Diego County, who swore he had known Sophia all her life, and even knew her parents as well.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNHQsb2ZemE_csOxmX_E29wobBzpAn9ImB0TQ7HSOQMAsb_xGv3kKWpV9u6OcyIBegbvqV93b8sIYjNrHTH9jZLUbTKw6cXxqaBRurM1PBZZUC2TNr0XKW-2qir_hQ6JWhHHrpdkjtr8Kk/s1600/Baron++19.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNHQsb2ZemE_csOxmX_E29wobBzpAn9ImB0TQ7HSOQMAsb_xGv3kKWpV9u6OcyIBegbvqV93b8sIYjNrHTH9jZLUbTKw6cXxqaBRurM1PBZZUC2TNr0XKW-2qir_hQ6JWhHHrpdkjtr8Kk/s640/Baron++19.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">In August, the Revis-Peralta's journeyed by Southern Pacific train to Arizona. And fortuitously, while pausing in Phoenix, they took a carriage ride into the mountains, and stumbled across yet even more evidence, the "Inicial Monument”, the very great stone upon which Don Miguel Peralta had carved his family crest back in 1758. Wasn't that lucky. James even posed Sophia next to the carving (above), and included the photo in his new claim, filed in Tucson on 2 September, 1887. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6L--jlt80JhL3J2NimuTPFbFJBvF0YLQk8rNSQxm2IiUuPC9FnfsK7H3LB8TZGnJZ2-a4wPWgUf3pmLBkXbsQXaKRkBM9G7xPvKmYUmIJ3cfc23MYPPVSJohhmP-TUx-JK25q-8h-3Bf1ftZiO790vG2S5fuP2B0Q1H-uqMTNykTsSwMSuSuYGyAuBA/s999/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(5).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="785" data-original-width="999" height="502" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6L--jlt80JhL3J2NimuTPFbFJBvF0YLQk8rNSQxm2IiUuPC9FnfsK7H3LB8TZGnJZ2-a4wPWgUf3pmLBkXbsQXaKRkBM9G7xPvKmYUmIJ3cfc23MYPPVSJohhmP-TUx-JK25q-8h-3Bf1ftZiO790vG2S5fuP2B0Q1H-uqMTNykTsSwMSuSuYGyAuBA/w640-h502/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(5).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Now his claim was simple and direct, and no longer rested on a single scrap of paper - that bill of sale (above) from the mining camp. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhfkvtfmWMyK4wjj1leqOz6gkZv7r33lsVX3wO8NhxO9iS4MeXR2_fyZXJ4wAACQhIu7nz2FEUiDbKYBYaOf5zzqkDFatuGylqyZNfsVIgypCsfPDYiSV8poMFr8LnzieV4Nu36gqVWJuE/s576/AA+001.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="432" data-original-width="576" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhfkvtfmWMyK4wjj1leqOz6gkZv7r33lsVX3wO8NhxO9iS4MeXR2_fyZXJ4wAACQhIu7nz2FEUiDbKYBYaOf5zzqkDFatuGylqyZNfsVIgypCsfPDYiSV8poMFr8LnzieV4Nu36gqVWJuE/w640-h480/AA+001.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">He was the grantee, by benefit of his marriage to the direct ancestor of old Don Miguel Peralta, Doña Sophia Micaela Maso Reavis y Peralta de la Córdoba, third Baroness of Arizona.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4tzXSx2ZGglySbH3DiHAd3gxnXpsQAKlUhbNnJqx0Q_HHw8RTWig9MVmQRpbuLWr8oh0sfN3BlYyf5VHhCQhJl5zHkwMXSF8-Ii13-xXaeo1YyuKIzcSbcKgAEGmrmJmXvhVr6h8qKnQn/s1600/Baron++20.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="436" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4tzXSx2ZGglySbH3DiHAd3gxnXpsQAKlUhbNnJqx0Q_HHw8RTWig9MVmQRpbuLWr8oh0sfN3BlYyf5VHhCQhJl5zHkwMXSF8-Ii13-xXaeo1YyuKIzcSbcKgAEGmrmJmXvhVr6h8qKnQn/s400/Baron++20.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">James Reavis-Peralta, Baron of Arizona, announced the formation of the "Casa Grande Improvement Company", to exploit his land. He sold $3 million in stock (above), based on his plans to build a massive damn on the Salt River (which he owned), which would allow irrigation systems to make the desert (which he owned) bloom. Never mind that most of the year, the Salt River was a bed with no water in it. But for all his plans, James barely paused in his fortress at Arizola. They had built or bought homes where Sophia's investors lived – in San Francisco, St. Louis, New York and Chihuahua, Mexico. It was while in New York City that Sophia adopted a two month old orphan and named him Fenton, after James' father.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFEQUnWHunOc-nd2oG7ScvCPtwWNM3WTjoJ2g1sYSDsM-rhicwVoeEOq1MpuNFypvA9ElFiTOIXu64_9BjrgUMbkswtGMzAfbrGYVeYCmB4SmgRXXGENMy8ibOxqCM5iZBk0sdduFSqPAm/s1600/Baron++05.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="464" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFEQUnWHunOc-nd2oG7ScvCPtwWNM3WTjoJ2g1sYSDsM-rhicwVoeEOq1MpuNFypvA9ElFiTOIXu64_9BjrgUMbkswtGMzAfbrGYVeYCmB4SmgRXXGENMy8ibOxqCM5iZBk0sdduFSqPAm/s400/Baron++05.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">It looked as if the land commissioners in Arizona had little choice but to approve the grant, and make James Reavis Peralta a multi-millionaire and Sophia a real live princess. And I have no doubt that would have happened – except for one man – the Surveyor General for Arizona, Royal Johnson.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXc41ElZHs_InYajhYgefCJZnGXYmcfdeC-S3uUYupAyDDeA_6fTaobTNZDczVipjoRg6Vvr6NnYI76KxoxqVzvmihp0Xab9uuXZ0TWYDG00A9IS2TkoloYuhmuje3Wca8EeKCaTow2x0Y/s1600/Baron++44.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXc41ElZHs_InYajhYgefCJZnGXYmcfdeC-S3uUYupAyDDeA_6fTaobTNZDczVipjoRg6Vvr6NnYI76KxoxqVzvmihp0Xab9uuXZ0TWYDG00A9IS2TkoloYuhmuje3Wca8EeKCaTow2x0Y/s400/Baron++44.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large; text-align: left;">- 30 -</span></div>Kimit Mustonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03809428003905885379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5034791890201777099.post-42878856495385271532024-03-06T09:00:00.006-05:002024-03-06T09:00:00.297-05:00GREAT EXPECTATIONS Chapter Six<p> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF86gaqjXUAOXGYivH4T5gV8ZZDqk57wexUsf76kYDg1surRyj5L-yEi7MbDpLBdRX_qCrbXZMCckIf_BNpmJHiYkIrSMz2_-YecI8lDlJr4-WHCBzjZkvGq49LKx4nZeesyfRo6FItw8U/s1600/Baron++60.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="442" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF86gaqjXUAOXGYivH4T5gV8ZZDqk57wexUsf76kYDg1surRyj5L-yEi7MbDpLBdRX_qCrbXZMCckIf_BNpmJHiYkIrSMz2_-YecI8lDlJr4-WHCBzjZkvGq49LKx4nZeesyfRo6FItw8U/s640/Baron++60.jpg" width="640" /></a></p>I think Guadalajara is one of the most surprising cities in North America. It's name has Arabic roots, wadi l-ijara, meaning “the valley of the stones”, which hints at the Medieval Moorish occupation of Spain, mother country to Mexico. And Guadalajara's university, founded in 1791, helped make the capital of Jalisco Province an economic power house. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjToecho7Co_TaiKbtI74VJOqnefE7TJAf1XLQOvo7X1o1r9U26HJfa7LCX5HMAJbT-d_SIPyfnXHm2pQ9tzYmISkYTl1rTYtWlTtuIxfrYHWLIA67TICGCoTr3AXvQoz4G63NPXVP6B19GIJ-SNLmCQzqhKIcRID0hsDVSRFUn8k1uWdARvozSKqqQTA/s504/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(6).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="504" data-original-width="394" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjToecho7Co_TaiKbtI74VJOqnefE7TJAf1XLQOvo7X1o1r9U26HJfa7LCX5HMAJbT-d_SIPyfnXHm2pQ9tzYmISkYTl1rTYtWlTtuIxfrYHWLIA67TICGCoTr3AXvQoz4G63NPXVP6B19GIJ-SNLmCQzqhKIcRID0hsDVSRFUn8k1uWdARvozSKqqQTA/w500-h640/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(6).jpg" width="500" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">But when James Reavis, Cryil Baratt and Rufus C. Hopkins arrived in the winter of 1882, the town was struggling from the Yaqui Wars (above), 60 years of racial bloodshed, during which Indian tribes rebelled 27 times against enslavement and oppressive government. It was only the Catholic church's obsession with order and precedent which saved the region's Spanish history. And that is what drew our trio of gringos to this cultural island.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWgT1VEpV2qQzhtGg8OQmkQXME4fCwIikM0Vhn-bVT64epr2Xbywhmfb1yiNELzElKQw05RSuH7s6xCGwbhsbZXle9B7zo142QPxld3wLpI2VbvP52fAodLsJHq6cEmwDpiowNkquI6RvA/s1600/Baron++91.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="481" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWgT1VEpV2qQzhtGg8OQmkQXME4fCwIikM0Vhn-bVT64epr2Xbywhmfb1yiNELzElKQw05RSuH7s6xCGwbhsbZXle9B7zo142QPxld3wLpI2VbvP52fAodLsJHq6cEmwDpiowNkquI6RvA/s400/Baron++91.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Seventy year old Rufus C. Hopkins was probably the worst man Surveyor General Robbins could have picked to send on this mission, as his only qualification was that he could read the Spanish used in old land grants. Reavis and Baratt hovered around the old man, distracting him by introducing him to the archivists, the priests and clerks. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSccd0_i6bcyiJQiR7PGNeMZrqcx4ZkWj0_KshXRvJyW-KxpH4vGi0suD6ryypSqgbHS5Yu5vMTFGY6QtaBwQtDXg8yy02-pzz71Fb11vjuyVx6uvhBcalSYhSk_4xEvBLAzkq32M3O5LaMkxjCfIqp8dTNroPxC94NXI6KgLCRkE-Dokv2V98pVgXGg/s750/276251838_5763821563633023_8840554600327819649_n%20(3).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="455" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSccd0_i6bcyiJQiR7PGNeMZrqcx4ZkWj0_KshXRvJyW-KxpH4vGi0suD6ryypSqgbHS5Yu5vMTFGY6QtaBwQtDXg8yy02-pzz71Fb11vjuyVx6uvhBcalSYhSk_4xEvBLAzkq32M3O5LaMkxjCfIqp8dTNroPxC94NXI6KgLCRkE-Dokv2V98pVgXGg/w388-h640/276251838_5763821563633023_8840554600327819649_n%20(3).jpg" width="388" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">They were ever eager to point out important documents and even discovering a previously unknown copy of the 1748 "cedulare" approving the Peralta grant. This latest discovery was important, since nothing would discourage doubters looking closer into the grant than the threat they would only stumble over more evidence supporting it. The old man was clearly convinced. His report would confirm Reavis' claim. Unfortunately for James Reavis, back in Tucson Arizona, things had taken a turn for the worse.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj62KsT7FQzXPYkH0q5twJLQ09Kmfaa0bqP8OqBpUQ07UCYan8tKvet_IgMYAbeZ6MTu59TCkjgyDiESg0i2rr3n1ObdtrIxSTnLvrSpTJt-zEun9mz5N_HA1VUsEkRDWIXHA_UFnuVErxH/s1600/Baron++15.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj62KsT7FQzXPYkH0q5twJLQ09Kmfaa0bqP8OqBpUQ07UCYan8tKvet_IgMYAbeZ6MTu59TCkjgyDiESg0i2rr3n1ObdtrIxSTnLvrSpTJt-zEun9mz5N_HA1VUsEkRDWIXHA_UFnuVErxH/s400/Baron++15.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Rufus Hopkin's boss, Joseph W. Robbins, had died of tuberculosis while the trio were down in Guadalajara. His replacement was his own chief clerk, Royal A. Johnson, and he was healthy and had a healthy skepticism about Rufus Hopkin's report on the Peralta grant. He noted that tucked away in the back of Hopkins' report was the note that the only records in Guadalajara which mentioned the Peralta Grant, were those which specifically dealt with it. In discussing the desire for Spanish troops to deal with the Apache, for instance, there was no mention of the grant, even though it was smack in the middle of Apache land, and it was claimed Don Miguel Peralta had been driven off “his” grant by the Apache. This was why Rufus Hopkins' report, like all good historical scholarship, could only say that after a cursory examination there was nothing to disprove the legality of the grant.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXAf3XkXf0uAjlgcw3qjbKif2WPj7S5XCLdxQgtu26uKJ85YWELq_A0Lk6LsqWqo-PUorZRLOwPzJ-IbfkRECM-6DjqjUql7aWhkGwbqT8kIrkQCrJTArRXQK0xtkRu_g_uE9rSEsBPATj/s1600/Baron++02.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXAf3XkXf0uAjlgcw3qjbKif2WPj7S5XCLdxQgtu26uKJ85YWELq_A0Lk6LsqWqo-PUorZRLOwPzJ-IbfkRECM-6DjqjUql7aWhkGwbqT8kIrkQCrJTArRXQK0xtkRu_g_uE9rSEsBPATj/w562-h640/Baron++02.jpg" width="562" /></a></div>James Reavis (above), of course, took much more forceful interpretation of the report. He and Cryil Baratt began spreading the rumor that the American government was about to offer him $100 million for the Grant. And given Huntington and Croker's political friends in Washington, that was not impossible. Reavis had already refused to sell another right-away quick claim, similar to the one Huntington's Southern Pacific had bought, to the competing Texas and Pacific Railroad, which was trying to fulfill James Gadsden old dream of connecting the southern states to the Pacific ocean. With all land rights in Arizona now uncertain, and without a quick claim of its own, the banks withdrew their support for the Texas and Pacific, and progress on that railroad came to a halt. Crocker and Huntington's investment in Reavis was already paying dividends.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie2Po488wjs18NR6lurijKl0jmc5Emk4VOXIv72p-h2Gx3x9HJDFxUD6eUGETml12o_bcGUkjEWE6iMztDDcmAZ20OCEUQTWC0erQzFKwm2mE8crtGdGrkmPNAON1SgXnYqBID-rkTm3fjbqp66z_1XniWDNgYUQzTDjY16YC3vMC-68_5xP_MCT_0FQ/s720/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="720" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie2Po488wjs18NR6lurijKl0jmc5Emk4VOXIv72p-h2Gx3x9HJDFxUD6eUGETml12o_bcGUkjEWE6iMztDDcmAZ20OCEUQTWC0erQzFKwm2mE8crtGdGrkmPNAON1SgXnYqBID-rkTm3fjbqp66z_1XniWDNgYUQzTDjY16YC3vMC-68_5xP_MCT_0FQ/w640-h480/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Meanwhile Reavis and his bodyguard, Pedro Cuervo, had recruited a small army of thugs who were shaking down every farmer, rancher, miner, home and business owner in Arizona for anything from $1,000 to a free meal in exchange for an immediate quit claim on their properties. Many paid up. Those who resisted found their businesses vandalized, their employees beaten, crops and barns burned and wells fouled. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGSeXYcCV7_hMbsM-_moia9FbFZT5DANaqsgFPMfEcA8BnQH1_fRhXsOmoS5GiK8DKuilUcqCO0eeCSALYj9Sjhijvx6v4cphC6J6Y8agzQCNfEJPFpNGAn6uKVJhFhT5J93k0jCkYkGkxugh6tqDxUt_s2Oby-DcypwpHlAX2dNpwDAliUluFGdMBMw/s1572/276251838_5763821563633023_8840554600327819649_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1572" data-original-width="1310" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGSeXYcCV7_hMbsM-_moia9FbFZT5DANaqsgFPMfEcA8BnQH1_fRhXsOmoS5GiK8DKuilUcqCO0eeCSALYj9Sjhijvx6v4cphC6J6Y8agzQCNfEJPFpNGAn6uKVJhFhT5J93k0jCkYkGkxugh6tqDxUt_s2Oby-DcypwpHlAX2dNpwDAliUluFGdMBMw/w534-h640/276251838_5763821563633023_8840554600327819649_n.jpg" width="534" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Typical of Reavis' methods was the treatment for Tom Weedin (above), editor of the "Florence Enterprise" in Pinal County, about 40 miles southeast of Phoenix. Reavis offered Weedin the standard bribe, and when Weedin said no, his offices were burned to the ground. Weedin then responded by forming an “Anti-Reavis” committee, to raise money to oppose his thugs in court. Similar committees sprang up in Phoenix, Tucson and Tempe. To Weedin it felt like rowing against the tide. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgslD6HTv7AK0XIOHBmOeaxAnZ7kz1C6-UnFjtfpBncsCH_FhU2kkdyy1VFlGUPY_5PihoBaDKZfj5EziIeK3lFXKg3TBBL87EtQlpkUcNXieIJcGHogAMyUGMQmBTYsRHjKJRg1irQ7oyd6IatIzZ34F0V8SGVstiqhJ0U39TOuPmVzBmm-O-QOvGqCQ/s450/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(2).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="227" data-original-width="450" height="322" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgslD6HTv7AK0XIOHBmOeaxAnZ7kz1C6-UnFjtfpBncsCH_FhU2kkdyy1VFlGUPY_5PihoBaDKZfj5EziIeK3lFXKg3TBBL87EtQlpkUcNXieIJcGHogAMyUGMQmBTYsRHjKJRg1irQ7oyd6IatIzZ34F0V8SGVstiqhJ0U39TOuPmVzBmm-O-QOvGqCQ/w640-h322/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(2).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Cuervo's bandits squeezed an estimated $5.3 million out of Arizona in 1884 - the modern equivalent of one hundred sixty-two million dollars. That was a profit even Crocker and Huntington could appreciate. Organized crime had been turned loose on the libertarian wonderland of the Old West, where almost everybody carried a gun. And contrary to modern theory, the result was that citizens were left screaming for government activism – and immediately! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmjFZCnbijhI0IFurVIYXqIpZNw67wKWFsKjZ_dyArbi6r3jSPTIKK89AeP82B76K7rGshPiaeMLy6c5tU5cKd-z3BOaCqDaI_7xBfCaho1hLLcpEU3SJ1-2rFlgHF194lei4Gayz-no-szzQ0uooMui1vipM3iFsFzwKJYYe2n6-lneVL42jPNE8otg/s982/AA%20025%20(2).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="568" data-original-width="982" height="370" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmjFZCnbijhI0IFurVIYXqIpZNw67wKWFsKjZ_dyArbi6r3jSPTIKK89AeP82B76K7rGshPiaeMLy6c5tU5cKd-z3BOaCqDaI_7xBfCaho1hLLcpEU3SJ1-2rFlgHF194lei4Gayz-no-szzQ0uooMui1vipM3iFsFzwKJYYe2n6-lneVL42jPNE8otg/w640-h370/AA%20025%20(2).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Reavis was feeling confident enough to build himself La Hacienda de Peralta, a fortress with a nine foot wall enclosing servants quarters, stables, barns, a well, and a ten room redwood mansion, with running water inside. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh83yTJ2NPjSKl5np0Yk2AmRO5fiNlXObfRNbTMGXIqduSyHDm_qAF-wb4pP7R00EHafQ8-PUYFM02oknL2lpEFrAyQPqAgDdg7_t1FMEKpgPenjd8CFBOPyiqhRJ0kqDgAoOXIY_oAlyio9sDqjHX7EDkBlT-EnxbdEmAsriVw-JYWfEOMMvLCUmm6IA/s325/AA%20026%20(2).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="250" data-original-width="325" height="492" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh83yTJ2NPjSKl5np0Yk2AmRO5fiNlXObfRNbTMGXIqduSyHDm_qAF-wb4pP7R00EHafQ8-PUYFM02oknL2lpEFrAyQPqAgDdg7_t1FMEKpgPenjd8CFBOPyiqhRJ0kqDgAoOXIY_oAlyio9sDqjHX7EDkBlT-EnxbdEmAsriVw-JYWfEOMMvLCUmm6IA/w640-h492/AA%20026%20(2).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">He built his outpost just south of the ruins of Casa Granda, about 80 miles south of Phoenix and about 60 miles north of the Mexican border - should a quick escape be required. He called it Arizola, and began referring to himself as the Baron de Arizona.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjseELDVNue7tcvu1ksN6Vu5xz1bDNOxqvZYNIULuL5Wtf-vkl8n252K68zBAJoU3Q2SYjdIED9IDnfewt1gdfQohq1WU9aYy8vERlt7JY3dDgOFO1rXnbyW5pQlaMi9nZH0F0BqTAAkLrmZLjCeHEmMFkjWvHhWt_dB7Q6l8XMh8f2Xnh5eXAxCHj35Q/s686/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(3).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="686" data-original-width="507" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjseELDVNue7tcvu1ksN6Vu5xz1bDNOxqvZYNIULuL5Wtf-vkl8n252K68zBAJoU3Q2SYjdIED9IDnfewt1gdfQohq1WU9aYy8vERlt7JY3dDgOFO1rXnbyW5pQlaMi9nZH0F0BqTAAkLrmZLjCeHEmMFkjWvHhWt_dB7Q6l8XMh8f2Xnh5eXAxCHj35Q/w474-h640/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(3).jpg" width="474" /></a></div>The only trouble was a lawsuit filed by the Territorial Attorney General, Clark Churchill (above), claiming that Reavis had no right to property owned by the Territory of Arizona, because he lacked clear title to the grant. It was the weak point in Reavis' claim. There were still people alive who had been in Black Canyon in 1864 and none of them could recall a Miguel Peralta working a mine there. And in May of 1885 the territorial court granted clear title to the Attorney General. The Tucson Citizen newspaper headlined, “Reavis Nailed Up”<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH6i6AmmQmb8TM6vfisFCUGAaQCXViRf4faOWz_S542EBO8tK-5hQA1t5rzfNKgpAb2bCt2lIMMvpufoslHsKIk3fsSsndafdfFPFpWxBI9hGYSiBxu9-aQ0tctZvG2j2KBVfZW9NjKZb9/s1600/Baron++10.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="483" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH6i6AmmQmb8TM6vfisFCUGAaQCXViRf4faOWz_S542EBO8tK-5hQA1t5rzfNKgpAb2bCt2lIMMvpufoslHsKIk3fsSsndafdfFPFpWxBI9hGYSiBxu9-aQ0tctZvG2j2KBVfZW9NjKZb9/s400/Baron++10.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">In a letter dated 2 May, 1885, The Arizona Land Commissioner, W.A. Sparks, wrote to Surveyor Royal Johnson, “The essential foundation of a recognizable claim under the laws of Spain and the treaties and laws of the United States does not appear in this case. It is my opinion that the futile work in which you have been engaged for a year...should forthwith be discontinued.” Johnson agreed, writing back that he hoped “...the many schemes concocted by bad men...will now cease....(and) we shall have no further connection with this grant.”</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6whvlwRJbsC1cJlKefGP_BRsdeI7LGnrTiiX9TCpG7i-aCfqECGn1t9b9hbG9WcWbS6ePTMts9F70hPP2Bk_fHPW3LlfCFe3TZoZAeEysfuwVxa1ybNxoyrnLhaetJxArGY4OQR9D5MOD/s1600/Baron++13.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="483" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6whvlwRJbsC1cJlKefGP_BRsdeI7LGnrTiiX9TCpG7i-aCfqECGn1t9b9hbG9WcWbS6ePTMts9F70hPP2Bk_fHPW3LlfCFe3TZoZAeEysfuwVxa1ybNxoyrnLhaetJxArGY4OQR9D5MOD/s400/Baron++13.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Almost over night, income from the shakedowns for quit claims dried up and Cuervo's thugs returned to whatever they had been doing before Cuervo had hired them. Feeling the ground shifting under his feet, Reavis caught a Southern Pacific train for California. But if James Reavis was looking for more support from his financial backers, Huntington and Crocker, he did not get it. The delay of the Texas and Pacific railroad had been their primary concern, and it had been stopped. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRQA-ZBvekPVxVH3CwtKcGIavuwilEm-8wbrdFGp2kogMZxq_dSja7I2QJ-IprtE7jXZLbgOTbPMfp7JJkI8VLSFTu-vVtTTIJk3QO8k9ngAnMticRsnxUQEina47BnbVIRc4Au3HAt3Q35nfhCdQmzmRbFvoccLvgDyc-gmwsqanPAm_D66pXaNPCbg/s932/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(4).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="932" data-original-width="690" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRQA-ZBvekPVxVH3CwtKcGIavuwilEm-8wbrdFGp2kogMZxq_dSja7I2QJ-IprtE7jXZLbgOTbPMfp7JJkI8VLSFTu-vVtTTIJk3QO8k9ngAnMticRsnxUQEina47BnbVIRc4Au3HAt3Q35nfhCdQmzmRbFvoccLvgDyc-gmwsqanPAm_D66pXaNPCbg/w474-h640/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(4).jpg" width="474" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">But another ally did appear, when George Hearst (above), new owner of the San Francisco Examiner, and father to William Randolph Hearst, and friend to both Huntington and Crocker. He decided to back Reavis with favorable publicity in his paper. Still, Mr Crocker, warned that the weak point remained the 1864 bill of sale to George Willing. It had been written on a scrap of paper, and, frankly Mr. Huntington had doubts that it would stand up in court. Didn't Reavis have anything stronger?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTaQXsJMNGmQNLN4pS1zYNHkh1lztaXbMl78y4rEnF5AN7Li1_LxJ19iMA9Mm5U1JLFHN5JNlW4YALHqCx909qo5MAhV3yGIQDPNCWEptql9k-osFLR91eeD9srskCRnxcEeMc870ZdRYz/s1600/Baron++08.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="483" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTaQXsJMNGmQNLN4pS1zYNHkh1lztaXbMl78y4rEnF5AN7Li1_LxJ19iMA9Mm5U1JLFHN5JNlW4YALHqCx909qo5MAhV3yGIQDPNCWEptql9k-osFLR91eeD9srskCRnxcEeMc870ZdRYz/s400/Baron++08.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Once again, as had happened so many times before in this story, James Reavis did have something more up his sleeve. He had a little lady he had met on a train back in 1871. Reavis had stayed in contact with her, exchanging letters, and even paying for her to attend "finishing" school. And now she was right where and when Reavis needed her to be, and she was even who he needed her to be; Sofia Peralta, sole surviving heir to the Peralta Land Grant. With her appearance, the bill of sale became irrelevant. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgenPQcatQOxEZ7kMfxIg4lKGysPtUVGW2VCXTUtYeeOZPLNhUyAWMmrgJA-Rx_cQTgYhaYcgty8bsofBp4FGHUx00ObXhufUzDmTDZ_RMG2hbB-Pma-N7wCQxeEJlbJ55U8t3M22VUF8JA/s1600/Baron++18.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgenPQcatQOxEZ7kMfxIg4lKGysPtUVGW2VCXTUtYeeOZPLNhUyAWMmrgJA-Rx_cQTgYhaYcgty8bsofBp4FGHUx00ObXhufUzDmTDZ_RMG2hbB-Pma-N7wCQxeEJlbJ55U8t3M22VUF8JA/s400/Baron++18.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large; text-align: left;">- 30 - </span></div>Kimit Mustonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03809428003905885379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5034791890201777099.post-58751847152488225082024-03-05T09:00:00.017-05:002024-03-05T09:00:00.156-05:00GREAT EXPECTATIONS Chapter Five<p> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6WyRI777j_yUTxFAFV1XUPQvVk57QQO6HFvpCsDVyNkQmGePVWrltx-jQRnIIujGNEJDOVTqTc5WPELi5LsnhgLjh6Pkgoox74wJeRjvB1crEKh1t6gOlcTamxgTR8qjsaLxjl2lfJlf_uZHUGoX9lGKnfelYgwTsDKm-xuHng10-sYF5eOV3JFo6_w/s1029/AA%20019.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="619" data-original-width="1029" height="384" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6WyRI777j_yUTxFAFV1XUPQvVk57QQO6HFvpCsDVyNkQmGePVWrltx-jQRnIIujGNEJDOVTqTc5WPELi5LsnhgLjh6Pkgoox74wJeRjvB1crEKh1t6gOlcTamxgTR8qjsaLxjl2lfJlf_uZHUGoX9lGKnfelYgwTsDKm-xuHng10-sYF5eOV3JFo6_w/w640-h384/AA%20019.jpg" width="640" /></a></p><p></p><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I believe James Reavis put a lot of thought into choosing the tiny Sanford, Arizona Territory (above), capital of Graham County, to file his first claim to the Peralita grant. In October of 1882 the entire county had less than 5,000 residents, and a newly established weekly paper, The Graham County News, which would last less than a year before the publisher had to relocate, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkiHVyvPWrUbjSO2IywGimFb6KNW6WttvgHv7Lu4bh9gNUcjNAbJie78i6YiQxy-evw7TCS3PByFKZN-ZHje0HbESzWzBQowLan-r9IsN_V-urmPKJPnaDRvktDwgWHZYd7NZfblEM4RbjoOkFe8VVzAAIECuJASAVeKETm_wj3xXWEGvWxTSNqTVVsg/s2665/AA%20018%20(2).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1654" data-original-width="2665" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkiHVyvPWrUbjSO2IywGimFb6KNW6WttvgHv7Lu4bh9gNUcjNAbJie78i6YiQxy-evw7TCS3PByFKZN-ZHje0HbESzWzBQowLan-r9IsN_V-urmPKJPnaDRvktDwgWHZYd7NZfblEM4RbjoOkFe8VVzAAIECuJASAVeKETm_wj3xXWEGvWxTSNqTVVsg/w640-h398/AA%20018%20(2).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Safford (above) was a collection of bars and stables and an adobe county courthouse, which sat in the barren Sonora Desert, at the foot of the Pinaleno Mountains, 165 miles southeast of Phoenix. But it was only 30 miles west of the New Mexico territorial border, and just 100 miles north of the border with old Mexico. In short, it was not near anywhere or anything except two exits over a legal border.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGrMr4_l4dqCaMJxZNkJVzcAcpfGNEfMd5_fGP0uNyb0prWn0GKAjMtACk45XUr_A4Q0sV5u-s85zTCs0qSWiGro0ro_dJ_FTLGxdX6dkayEhlevmamstFCvfjYFGVYeKTE9BERQnEZdXhpALq7ZfMK_eYnQlo092kn-2ZP0JBv22P9ysjhUcK8GEasg/s1200/276251838_5763821563633023_8840554600327819649_n%20(3).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="596" data-original-width="1200" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGrMr4_l4dqCaMJxZNkJVzcAcpfGNEfMd5_fGP0uNyb0prWn0GKAjMtACk45XUr_A4Q0sV5u-s85zTCs0qSWiGro0ro_dJ_FTLGxdX6dkayEhlevmamstFCvfjYFGVYeKTE9BERQnEZdXhpALq7ZfMK_eYnQlo092kn-2ZP0JBv22P9ysjhUcK8GEasg/w640-h319/276251838_5763821563633023_8840554600327819649_n%20(3).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Reavis filed his papers with the probate court, laying claim to George Willing's ownership of the Peralta grant (above). But other then stamping the date on his paperwork, the probate court lacked authority to judge the validity of the Peralta Grant itself. And Reavis wanted them to do just that because Sanford was within the confines of the grant, which ran into New Mexico. Could it be that the master forger was nervous? Or had he been traversing the empty dessert, leaving false clues to the grant's validity, and was now anxious to get started? It did not matter for long, because his next move made a very large and well publicized splash.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDO248v90mQ-GmwQCIe0U5MuExAWprrx0469tPM_QP7s3PIe_KdxH617H8K5v0B0iuMlY4qn_QEij9_Me9veUCZlpVTh4VwNksMnknI5PBL-Wl8m5oLi0Kb_MzWoxz5ly-XU5Ed8toEn1z/s1600/Baron++02.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDO248v90mQ-GmwQCIe0U5MuExAWprrx0469tPM_QP7s3PIe_KdxH617H8K5v0B0iuMlY4qn_QEij9_Me9veUCZlpVTh4VwNksMnknI5PBL-Wl8m5oLi0Kb_MzWoxz5ly-XU5Ed8toEn1z/s400/Baron++02.jpg" width="351" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">It was Tuesday, 27 March, 1883, when an odd trio of villains stormed into the Tucson offices of Joseph W. Robbins, Surveyor General for the entire Arizona territory. First came the bewhiskered, well dressed James Reavis (above), followed by Cryil Baratt, a dis-bard California lawyer and alcoholic, serving as James' legal adviser. One story says that Reavis found Cyril in a San Francisco gutter and the kindred spirits had formed an immediate bond. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqm-BmEPngY6KaFrzy8EKlfrlW8gMRJXcpuSl9sWYhNYRFToODzOkXWPQg6jStugu8sl_DZrvh3PGuu7WkqXHQExY3F7_CCHbFmOaip1U4HwZjPTA2aJCFBSbg6uMU9lDqTtqMzoSKtfQY_ITlxTIRYhjEyDNV5ccrqiEAVuFMPfyLzpFhQikDJtJ2xw/s800/276251838_5763821563633023_8840554600327819649_n%20(3).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="326" data-original-width="800" height="260" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqm-BmEPngY6KaFrzy8EKlfrlW8gMRJXcpuSl9sWYhNYRFToODzOkXWPQg6jStugu8sl_DZrvh3PGuu7WkqXHQExY3F7_CCHbFmOaip1U4HwZjPTA2aJCFBSbg6uMU9lDqTtqMzoSKtfQY_ITlxTIRYhjEyDNV5ccrqiEAVuFMPfyLzpFhQikDJtJ2xw/w640-h260/276251838_5763821563633023_8840554600327819649_n%20(3).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Bringing up the rear was a fire plug named Pedro Cuervo, carrying in three large trunks of documents, one after another. Pedreo was Reavis' new body guard and enforcer. And once those trunks were opened, Reavis would need all the protection his wealthy California backers could afford.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHftQLaH9ScivUML8CjmsypmjabTC9583KDrDBmGPEg_wWz5vu-YLEfv0dX6zaz_ao9aWG2bjJGsBWS6aYHCIeJyise9ZDc1rLGOjqXTcvej2b5G1Xa7dqTAWmMZMN_iYa-aCq3foXcmGx/s1600/Baron++05.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="464" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHftQLaH9ScivUML8CjmsypmjabTC9583KDrDBmGPEg_wWz5vu-YLEfv0dX6zaz_ao9aWG2bjJGsBWS6aYHCIeJyise9ZDc1rLGOjqXTcvej2b5G1Xa7dqTAWmMZMN_iYa-aCq3foXcmGx/s400/Baron++05.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">His filing began boldly; “The petition of James Addison Reavis respectfully sets forth: That he is owner, by purchase from the legal heirs and representatives of the original grantee, of a certain tract of land (12 1/2 million acres - roughly from Phoenix, Arizona to Silver City, New Mexico), granted on the third day of January, 1758, by the Viceroy of New Spain to Don Miguel Peralta, Baron of the Coloradoes under royal decree of the King of Spain, directing such grant to be made to the said Peralta in consideration of and as a reward for distinguished military services rendered to the Crown in the war of Spain...”</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhttCV4ImWvFOmeJRudLYgiP4P27up_iBn-4ww1IdFH8EgSiSQpLHk50BsTWFVBVz0GRtfFQ2UXnhQ7ccMXpw7JAjHIABdqMpwlnGNUXaXbk_p0Rj7n0IJf-7QvbOt9F8KhK2_nTGsFXe19/s1600/Baron+118.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhttCV4ImWvFOmeJRudLYgiP4P27up_iBn-4ww1IdFH8EgSiSQpLHk50BsTWFVBVz0GRtfFQ2UXnhQ7ccMXpw7JAjHIABdqMpwlnGNUXaXbk_p0Rj7n0IJf-7QvbOt9F8KhK2_nTGsFXe19/s400/Baron+118.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Now, Joseph Robbins might be the Surveyor General for the Arizona territory, but he was a political appointee, and had no experience with a theodolite. And he knew almost nothing about Spanish or Mexican history. He'd been a newspaper owner in Wichita, Kansas and a good Republican before receiving his current position. But as he watched his staff notarize the seemingly endless series of documents, many with what looked like the official stamps and seals of Spain and Mexico, a panic began to build in his throat. These men were laying claim to an area larger than the combined states of Maryland and New Jersey, with the District of Columbia thrown in as well.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBayaSMEAAMaZzrHmFZXyUpDzRxj3Mx9GqQ5aoklVGtdsc6sP8aakESSf1Ok3r3GoirD-94thh5Qgqd0byGHKAuFPy3AE9wa40nn4FuikCGxztlrOHBMnR74u5D2OA4jVnGVXrwurZzfDp/s1600/Baron++15.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBayaSMEAAMaZzrHmFZXyUpDzRxj3Mx9GqQ5aoklVGtdsc6sP8aakESSf1Ok3r3GoirD-94thh5Qgqd0byGHKAuFPy3AE9wa40nn4FuikCGxztlrOHBMnR74u5D2OA4jVnGVXrwurZzfDp/s400/Baron++15.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Second of the documents was the typed translation of Phillip V's royal credula, dated 20 December, 1740. This was followed by the report of the Mexican Inquisition favoring the grant, and the 1758 Mexican Viceroy's confirmation. Then came a statement written by Don Miguel Nemecio Silva de Peralta de la Corboda himself, describing the exact location he had chosen for the grant. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHIsLdmlshE0myG13fCuP565B6bQwXhKRoTSN0BcRO74YBiseLPezWmNtDExV_soHm89tVb8Dr2K_2Hb-ij_SyJ-wLYrFIKACUUfKELWjuIYAa-B0oUnTFKAQMEjD443sJYUPQ8W7XCPVX/s899/AA+002.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="899" data-original-width="642" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHIsLdmlshE0myG13fCuP565B6bQwXhKRoTSN0BcRO74YBiseLPezWmNtDExV_soHm89tVb8Dr2K_2Hb-ij_SyJ-wLYrFIKACUUfKELWjuIYAa-B0oUnTFKAQMEjD443sJYUPQ8W7XCPVX/w458-h640/AA+002.jpg" width="458" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Then from the trunk was drawn the petition from Peralta to King Carlos III of Spain (above), requesting confirmation of the grant, followed by that confirmation granted in Madrid om 20 January, 1776. Next Reavis produced a letter to Don Meguel's son, signed by Santa Ana, President of Mexico. There were even three photographs of pages from the record book of the Mission of San Xavier del Bac, showing the originals of the previous documents. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ_SVfGAcR1CcxAaO98NGGiyGc566W83Rjx8xnPtSt6rWcrf08ebPI7C_TxDoFz0qKW_t2SwsNFYTAeIr7VHsSCnfQgwHAwNSBoklRaaPrFW-P5pTKnfVSZ0HH17PraKBUCKE43EwA31lw/s600/AA+002.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="339" data-original-width="600" height="362" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ_SVfGAcR1CcxAaO98NGGiyGc566W83Rjx8xnPtSt6rWcrf08ebPI7C_TxDoFz0qKW_t2SwsNFYTAeIr7VHsSCnfQgwHAwNSBoklRaaPrFW-P5pTKnfVSZ0HH17PraKBUCKE43EwA31lw/w640-h362/AA+002.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Then Reavis and Cryil Baratt, produced a copy of Miguel Peralta's will, dated January, 1788, and the 1864 quick claim bill of sale signed in Black Canyon (above), selling the entire grant to George Willing. And last but not least, came the power of attorney from May Ann Willing to James Reavis. All of that was in the first trunk. And there were two more trunks of documents to go.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYBMXuKArW_QUczlxfAruSEaR61jB-q9K3kX9XPy0Qjf2qjlTouNNHP7x8J7tD5qooaXtR6iLLBW6T-w0DG6Asrv8fVp6v4GpugpAEmoxg6sXDAi3dCgyzS3je22oH5PKGwhkZUi6H5RiL/s1600/Baron++23.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYBMXuKArW_QUczlxfAruSEaR61jB-q9K3kX9XPy0Qjf2qjlTouNNHP7x8J7tD5qooaXtR6iLLBW6T-w0DG6Asrv8fVp6v4GpugpAEmoxg6sXDAi3dCgyzS3je22oH5PKGwhkZUi6H5RiL/s640/Baron++23.jpg" width="433" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Public notice of the claim was now filed in newspapers in Tucson, Phoenix and Prescott. The reaction was strongest in Phoenix, the largest town which fell within the claim. Suddenly every business owner, home owner, mine owner and farmer knew their property rights were in question. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1QyIixPFEUeZ4cl5JUYp5FsNSXHsmkYWWpIIcxMzHsNGZcmqAWIcCs8c8I-09hVxJASq2pIWe5BFNaLoRWLyVdxsoTMKcX3xI9QE5ukg3XKQBRsKHLT7XUoBJ4YwsP16qT3qUSXnuBKVnwbLL4Z_FxgpsOrvNzk_0b8UcmM6Kc7MNK7NmvnDBaTrJrw/s637/A%20001%20(2).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="459" data-original-width="637" height="462" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1QyIixPFEUeZ4cl5JUYp5FsNSXHsmkYWWpIIcxMzHsNGZcmqAWIcCs8c8I-09hVxJASq2pIWe5BFNaLoRWLyVdxsoTMKcX3xI9QE5ukg3XKQBRsKHLT7XUoBJ4YwsP16qT3qUSXnuBKVnwbLL4Z_FxgpsOrvNzk_0b8UcmM6Kc7MNK7NmvnDBaTrJrw/w640-h462/A%20001%20(2).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The town's two newspapers, the Herald and the Gazette, both declared war on James Reavis. Both papers questioned the validity of the grant, urged their readers not to sign any agreements with Reavis, and condemned the practice of "quit claim" sales. Briefly, it looked as if the population would present a untied front. But almost immediately there were three serious defections.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3JZwt97Ac9RspDLQinyw9GxBUhCg6xxU_-YE-jT7p5rtTpon20g8oUhq-Twa33MJ72htn0RZyFthubaAvAwD0fdP1SlMmoa1OoQlwn3oCoESB-Ak72GgbUyeQ4knC76bO14vVsUWacbiy/s1600/Baron+120.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3JZwt97Ac9RspDLQinyw9GxBUhCg6xxU_-YE-jT7p5rtTpon20g8oUhq-Twa33MJ72htn0RZyFthubaAvAwD0fdP1SlMmoa1OoQlwn3oCoESB-Ak72GgbUyeQ4knC76bO14vVsUWacbiy/s640/Baron+120.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The first to cut a deal with Reavis was Col. James M. Barney (above). He had bought the Silver King Mine a few years earlier, paying over half a million dollars. That mine was now digging on an 87 foot wide vein of silver ore, on three levels, the deepest 110 feet down, and was producing over $6 million of silver a year. In June of 1883 the old cavalryman paid Reavis $25,000 for a quit claim on his mine. It was chump- change to Barney, and just good business. But it sent a shiver down the spines of every other property owner in the territory.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjEd419ayBuhmq0tLShLeMnHEjdvjhzbuEVtoQJDM9GzVK8yztOymp4aXCMmU4yIHGo_WHbjxrKGAHu5MHBsG70WHTHft4w4UQUIynPxfiOP36-kL3qzzR_dAz5WMFl_dY_RiSiO0aC3Mz/s1600/Baron++74.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="516" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjEd419ayBuhmq0tLShLeMnHEjdvjhzbuEVtoQJDM9GzVK8yztOymp4aXCMmU4yIHGo_WHbjxrKGAHu5MHBsG70WHTHft4w4UQUIynPxfiOP36-kL3qzzR_dAz5WMFl_dY_RiSiO0aC3Mz/s400/Baron++74.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">This was followed by word that the Southern Pacific Railroad, which was building its way eastward toward Phoenix, had also bought a quitclaim for a right-of-way into the territory for $50,000. What the terrified residents did not know was that the owners of the S.P. - Huntington, Crocker and their partners, were also the men who were funding Reavis and his vultures. In essence, the S.P. was paying itself for the right of way into Phoenix.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtNyMaeAJ3QDERx9_8UP-adRJasIO5YUky-5zNj4YzOOkKc1BdWnAP66uJtYTC_FHoe1XuoX6FiGMF-6ZPoJSmbEzR77nSEJIsHq3QjQiq5WV8pNcXliaVfJTpuOSO6Zi_w_quEUc0-glk/s1600/Baron++87.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="371" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtNyMaeAJ3QDERx9_8UP-adRJasIO5YUky-5zNj4YzOOkKc1BdWnAP66uJtYTC_FHoe1XuoX6FiGMF-6ZPoJSmbEzR77nSEJIsHq3QjQiq5WV8pNcXliaVfJTpuOSO6Zi_w_quEUc0-glk/s400/Baron++87.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The next major defector was an even harder blow to resisters. Homer H. McNeil was a significant property owner in Phoenix, and the owner and publisher of The Gazette. First rumors of the McNeil's defection started when the Gazette began to tone down its editorials, and in November word was leaked to the Herald that McNeal had indeed paid a quit claim for all his property, including the Gazette's office. McNeal was threatened on the streets, and even his friends stopped speaking to him. The newspaperman tried to return his quit claim to Mr. Reavis, and get his money back. But Reavis was no longer in town.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz5lWirzjrc1IJtn7pcc97cNxeQ4IZAOqDob2zW6-HOHg-aVolS_tS0BE2MVCgQ1eKENiibq1Dt03Q2CpmiiTl8k5cIdV97cUG9LOcNln9heUKPbXL5l10Skbu7Qeb2VNVXc2-L0GH2vA9/s1600/Baron++92.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="491" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz5lWirzjrc1IJtn7pcc97cNxeQ4IZAOqDob2zW6-HOHg-aVolS_tS0BE2MVCgQ1eKENiibq1Dt03Q2CpmiiTl8k5cIdV97cUG9LOcNln9heUKPbXL5l10Skbu7Qeb2VNVXc2-L0GH2vA9/s400/Baron++92.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">James Reavis and his lawyer disbarred lawyer Cryil Baratt were down in Guadalajara, looking over the shoulder of the man Surveyor General Robbins had sent down to Mexico to investigate the claim - Mr. Rufus C. Hopkins. But Rufus would prove to be a terrible choice as an investigator.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYIvlPw04c8PGh7gGJzhC6Y3aFXd87YUAHeXlqoycn9QzAi_dCVDu8Ge4_m8Ajz7JFoh_rudg-hSNWBx0_sn99-zHPUFYBogeW396qa7pLGEXpz1BfW9OIN_cs6mm8jglLwI9gOqna4gL5/s1600/Baron++90.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="492" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYIvlPw04c8PGh7gGJzhC6Y3aFXd87YUAHeXlqoycn9QzAi_dCVDu8Ge4_m8Ajz7JFoh_rudg-hSNWBx0_sn99-zHPUFYBogeW396qa7pLGEXpz1BfW9OIN_cs6mm8jglLwI9gOqna4gL5/s400/Baron++90.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">- 30 -</span></div>Kimit Mustonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03809428003905885379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5034791890201777099.post-8843243032961431372024-03-04T09:00:00.011-05:002024-03-04T09:00:00.143-05:00GREAT EXPECTATIONS Chapter Four<p> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhaxh_2vRrwspN4kBiIeG2KICFjtIR-RbhiCKikgSJeC-rYnHin-84a5F8_MQI7OlmjDtOERhlSL5aFpGZcyHVjaRaFdHXCY_-7PUsTIUBwQ8DHYAwwwty_vYmo4JP1uE-GQjwx7b_DFj2MCpYfHjeZr-0PfjmTXtv4QjLjKQN9AEG2avlZve6g5OfQQ/s593/276251838_5763821563633023_8840554600327819649_n%20(2).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="373" data-original-width="593" height="402" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhaxh_2vRrwspN4kBiIeG2KICFjtIR-RbhiCKikgSJeC-rYnHin-84a5F8_MQI7OlmjDtOERhlSL5aFpGZcyHVjaRaFdHXCY_-7PUsTIUBwQ8DHYAwwwty_vYmo4JP1uE-GQjwx7b_DFj2MCpYfHjeZr-0PfjmTXtv4QjLjKQN9AEG2avlZve6g5OfQQ/w640-h402/276251838_5763821563633023_8840554600327819649_n%20(2).jpg" width="640" /></a></p><p>I suppose the luckiest moment in the history of Phoenix, Arizona occurred when the first settlers decided to reject the suggestion of its founder, Jack Swilling, that they should name their new town after the Confederate General "Stonewall" Jackson". Instead they listened to the more educated voice of Phillip Darrell Duppa, an Englishman who had been versed in the classics. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ0JKnYHmOnG7AVA_Qvr1lGi5U7k7NzTfNebwgrh7-VQUETuNA5WUJqb2qdQeospTtwKQ_4u_OVw86ois9RFySFzJVpcGtZB3yWC2YIpf4IRpPPAirHnsBUMmBu-d7756nO1IE4coftX-E/s1000/AA+010.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="1000" height="384" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ0JKnYHmOnG7AVA_Qvr1lGi5U7k7NzTfNebwgrh7-VQUETuNA5WUJqb2qdQeospTtwKQ_4u_OVw86ois9RFySFzJVpcGtZB3yWC2YIpf4IRpPPAirHnsBUMmBu-d7756nO1IE4coftX-E/w640-h384/AA+010.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Phillip (above) liked to call himself “Lord Duppa”, a title delivered with a self depreciating grin, which really sold it. The limey had the romantic idea that the ugly little adobe town founded between the White Tank Mountains and the Salt River was a place of rebirth, a spot where new life could rise from the ashes of the old, like the mythical Phoenix Bird. And that appealed to the survivors of the Civil War, from both sides. On the other hand it was really bad luck for the town when James Reavis stepped off the California stagecoach in Phoenix, to raise the fake Peralta Land Grant from its ashes.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhROIvKL7ddbBTc14iviCpidGdAEyG5rfOVQKK-qIZ17ZSH2CrRZPZmj86RrAI_CSgk3q-k_wnekKudYMhZqPrBCgkvCuA1pmB8wL7OVFfO1qp-ODYz1lmj_KAD4aBG-JDEUe0ZcLBZnbFk/s1600/Baron++38.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhROIvKL7ddbBTc14iviCpidGdAEyG5rfOVQKK-qIZ17ZSH2CrRZPZmj86RrAI_CSgk3q-k_wnekKudYMhZqPrBCgkvCuA1pmB8wL7OVFfO1qp-ODYz1lmj_KAD4aBG-JDEUe0ZcLBZnbFk/s400/Baron++38.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Phoenix was not legally a town yet when Reavis arrived in April of 1880. That would happen in February of the following year. But already the place had almost 2,500 citizens, a couple of churches, a school on Center Street, 16 saloons, four dance halls, a bank and a telegraph connection to the outside world. And Huntington and Cooke's railroad was already reaching out from San Diego, although it had not reached Phoenix yet. But publicly James Reavis showed no interest in any of that. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAdxK5Z5xyyk7yB3ZfP4u8w2-azKEigRhf5q2iTM8cLN4Ml-EA-N4EBFUbgm8PKCXfmQdqQjbDAVmQ5-t3ZK3f3LsFW0PwIaN7fU3glZ47o6XFdVw7E8DI7-ez064P8PWWAj20hxmHWxaW/s1144/AA+002.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="673" data-original-width="1144" height="376" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAdxK5Z5xyyk7yB3ZfP4u8w2-azKEigRhf5q2iTM8cLN4Ml-EA-N4EBFUbgm8PKCXfmQdqQjbDAVmQ5-t3ZK3f3LsFW0PwIaN7fU3glZ47o6XFdVw7E8DI7-ez064P8PWWAj20hxmHWxaW/w640-h376/AA+002.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">He told people he was a subscription agent for the San Francisco Examiner, but he sold very few subscriptions. He read the local paper, he listened when people talked , and he gauged the spirit of the place. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcPaDyneEmgIML50FikQNa2ZYXrzK3KOYGYowrkTAqvlC-cBjpNhxWx-pEmtMwIfrhHY9HlYIpWMqwj7t2bfQ6T1-DaOcVP-CO3FiHHV-Q_sSBkBb4bBYMnEuF5zSsk6Z6pAtXHqJocTVH3fWk9iXbtwuPwKPFAEQ_mCN5jtQ7iclocnqxsz1ao0NByw/s666/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(9).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="489" data-original-width="666" height="470" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcPaDyneEmgIML50FikQNa2ZYXrzK3KOYGYowrkTAqvlC-cBjpNhxWx-pEmtMwIfrhHY9HlYIpWMqwj7t2bfQ6T1-DaOcVP-CO3FiHHV-Q_sSBkBb4bBYMnEuF5zSsk6Z6pAtXHqJocTVH3fWk9iXbtwuPwKPFAEQ_mCN5jtQ7iclocnqxsz1ao0NByw/w640-h470/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(9).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">He even traveled the 15 miles out to where the seasonal Salt River and the perennial Gila Rivers met, and clambered about over the hills for an hour or so. On his return to town, he boarded the stagecoach for the terrible one hundred mile journey north, into the mountains, to the territorial capital of Prescott.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv58UokGb9V7jQUYWn0E7xS0MP6Ld31qr6jUVLAte0CvAegGApZa90C6ABTneOf3BpD8mIqvk9IYaxB6Xtt1UD_nd0f0d55Kd5FqcvCylrnzghM_-5EXa-pohubuJPvyggi0ilHaEKfWUB/s1600/Baron+107.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv58UokGb9V7jQUYWn0E7xS0MP6Ld31qr6jUVLAte0CvAegGApZa90C6ABTneOf3BpD8mIqvk9IYaxB6Xtt1UD_nd0f0d55Kd5FqcvCylrnzghM_-5EXa-pohubuJPvyggi0ilHaEKfWUB/s400/Baron+107.jpg" width="579" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Repeated conflagrations had forced this mining town of less than 2,000 to begin building in brick, including a new court house (above). It was in that building in May of 1880 that James Reavis presented a letter from George’s Willing's widow, granting him authority to act in her name and take possession of the bill of sale for the Peralta land grant. And once he had this bill of sale in his hand, James caught the next coach bound for San Francisco.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii7pVUDnhulCARBvbBTchwyGkbW63QFcZKviHN8SSPjbgCAK-eNMXVjlBnL0lSGqNd1gkOZ7fpfdspbU_jzhsjt_MAY2snycCR0ON6PHgynSatyigtUrf3h8BkzYPU-jNUc0Ubf4cmGu-L/s1600/Baron++05.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="464" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii7pVUDnhulCARBvbBTchwyGkbW63QFcZKviHN8SSPjbgCAK-eNMXVjlBnL0lSGqNd1gkOZ7fpfdspbU_jzhsjt_MAY2snycCR0ON6PHgynSatyigtUrf3h8BkzYPU-jNUc0Ubf4cmGu-L/s400/Baron++05.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Once back in the city by the bay, Reavis now oversaw an English translation of the Royal Credula - “The King's Debt” - the fake land grant supposedly made by the Spanish King. This had of course originally been written in English, by Reavis' conspirators back in St. Louis. But now Reavis had actually seen the land, and could make minor changes in the translation to reflect the actual terrain. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxZtkVYJf9yFYkAMRkH1CclwPtyqYVDBVv3wt1di2vhI3OLM3O_2FJUc-KVpa1qVJrT7pE_kNsGYXUbUmVB7VkXRXWwab03-2XvpT2zAQU5lWAn7mACHI_Z55ZGlVRE06-CMdZLdtZRP8F/s1600/Baron++23.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxZtkVYJf9yFYkAMRkH1CclwPtyqYVDBVv3wt1di2vhI3OLM3O_2FJUc-KVpa1qVJrT7pE_kNsGYXUbUmVB7VkXRXWwab03-2XvpT2zAQU5lWAn7mACHI_Z55ZGlVRE06-CMdZLdtZRP8F/s400/Baron++23.jpg" width="433" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">After discussions with Huntington and Crocker, James Reavis decided to expand the size of the grant, placing its very center at the confluence of the Salt and Gila rivers,. which he had visited on his day trip. Contained within the grant now were the towns of Phoenix, Tempe and Casa Granda. Reavis added a helpful note from the powerful Inquisition of New Spain, dated 1757 (above), assuring the Viceroy there was no impediment to the grant,...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxh9JZMNMAVBP2wIh53e-dP2yDE8OJice9pywTLWtHmrlLOTq-2QopBeVe5XDbN907qdkcbL_EJZ_HS2nTbepiz_xYU1ebMI5-Q1HeMYx-EbkpcmJGfhALjEakQNZU1fd_MZwNBdIn0RjBPl7MpgmF0qaDHgvCq32PBymcZJqNdhwh1gaiZj_AX2zKxA/s1500/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(6).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="863" data-original-width="1500" height="368" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxh9JZMNMAVBP2wIh53e-dP2yDE8OJice9pywTLWtHmrlLOTq-2QopBeVe5XDbN907qdkcbL_EJZ_HS2nTbepiz_xYU1ebMI5-Q1HeMYx-EbkpcmJGfhALjEakQNZU1fd_MZwNBdIn0RjBPl7MpgmF0qaDHgvCq32PBymcZJqNdhwh1gaiZj_AX2zKxA/w640-h368/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(6).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">...and a statement from the lucky recipient, Don Miguel de Peralta, himself, dated 1758, which defined the western boundary so as to reach 50 miles eastward to Silver City, New Mexico territory, to include the Silver King Mine, whose deposits under Chloride Flats produced $10,000 out of every ton of ore pried from it's tunnels. Preparing this new old paperwork took the entire winter of 1880-81.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizfIb3jA4mIW6E0EhGc2ohnU_X7L_7oTztW_88s-csgMeONFsDHGmKLXHBTJimyGio7_o8pVLROgCBAqxGcdeox6lf1WshxXV6zz1fgVHAJhYA337-lwR34V-c7jVyaExDPQF-hxrlnRGZ/s1600/Baron++27.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="481" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizfIb3jA4mIW6E0EhGc2ohnU_X7L_7oTztW_88s-csgMeONFsDHGmKLXHBTJimyGio7_o8pVLROgCBAqxGcdeox6lf1WshxXV6zz1fgVHAJhYA337-lwR34V-c7jVyaExDPQF-hxrlnRGZ/s400/Baron++27.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">In July of 1881 Reavis finally made it to Sacramento, to repay Florin Massaol and get his hands on the mineral rights which George Willing had pawned back in 1874. In the end, however, Massaol was so impressed by the people backing Reavis, the old forger got what he wanted for only the cost of a railroad ticket. All Reavis had to do was sign yet another promissory note, agreeing to pay Massol $3,000 if and when the Peralta grant was confirmed by an American court. In exchange Massaol signed over power of attorney on the mineral rights to Reavis That's all Reavis wanted, anyway. It as not as if he had any intention of ever digging for gold or silver himself.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgff6xcKkTLrd26aLxOofJqLtX2KyO-h5HbVtqlxwZYtXIGjD7_ULkKBUsqSYrXNFJ4nNAQFBHs7_1B9ZH8aZ-GkaXEsfZrkPELCeRiWXxoUBnhsuolwjGqN4UDjUTXg9X92hKiQmwYWs2l/s1600/Baron++29.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="468" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgff6xcKkTLrd26aLxOofJqLtX2KyO-h5HbVtqlxwZYtXIGjD7_ULkKBUsqSYrXNFJ4nNAQFBHs7_1B9ZH8aZ-GkaXEsfZrkPELCeRiWXxoUBnhsuolwjGqN4UDjUTXg9X92hKiQmwYWs2l/s400/Baron++29.png" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Reavis then boarded a train for Washington, D.C., seeking the record book of the Mission San Xavier del Bac, located just south of Phoenix, Arizona, and a benchmark used for the grant. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNCjFpuF0H4szZ-KiEF3-9IjSyYaspoNQtzJVGo5fqgiOoqGBQTQFB48E6nuBbZyRQawrlDif-uCX2e3ZHINQUf6vnwpV72QOq6mhUJpQdq7BkUr5dfb4RxHanS3b1L56hpQ9Vqr4OItKw3wC-WhyqlGOUCDFvdNrAp2-GQVPuyJ-Nmw6DBf7FED_vXA/s1140/AA%20018.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="472" data-original-width="1140" height="264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNCjFpuF0H4szZ-KiEF3-9IjSyYaspoNQtzJVGo5fqgiOoqGBQTQFB48E6nuBbZyRQawrlDif-uCX2e3ZHINQUf6vnwpV72QOq6mhUJpQdq7BkUr5dfb4RxHanS3b1L56hpQ9Vqr4OItKw3wC-WhyqlGOUCDFvdNrAp2-GQVPuyJ-Nmw6DBf7FED_vXA/w640-h264/AA%20018.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The book had been the territories' contribution to the Centennial Exposition (above) in Philadelphia in 1876. After the exhibition had closed, the book, along with other exhibits, had been moved to Washington, D.C.. It was still there, and Reavis was permitted access to the book because of his contacts with wealthy Californians. Had the book still been in Arizona such “friends” might have been a source of suspicion, but in far off Washington the other rule about museum curators came into play - they never miss an opportunity to impress a potential wealthy patron. Reavis was allowed to spend several days in private, going over the book. In September he continued his odyssey in Mexico City, and then on to Guadalajara..</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi18mwQ-YhjwM76sDOHwKfqu3gAAx0hw5eizRwjL-GFmmNnF11_atyrcf2FL0h8MwNhIfIS_P5eI3bpTgzlFpdIzfOx-c240Lgy83yA-Z7LiKbIVPmqadCNHBlO5iusPla9yb0pa4fYxEOT/s1600/Baron++89.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi18mwQ-YhjwM76sDOHwKfqu3gAAx0hw5eizRwjL-GFmmNnF11_atyrcf2FL0h8MwNhIfIS_P5eI3bpTgzlFpdIzfOx-c240Lgy83yA-Z7LiKbIVPmqadCNHBlO5iusPla9yb0pa4fYxEOT/s400/Baron++89.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">In both Mexican cities James Reavis bonded with the archivists, the librarians and probate clerks in charge of the documents and records he needed. He told them he was a correspondent for San Francisco newspapers, looking for stories about the roots of California families, and probably paid them for small “favors” he received. And when he returned to California in late November of 1881, he had photographs of the documents, as well as typed translations and certified copies, all paid for by his wealthy investors. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnRIDuSLhbTFUYku9TbAJRhwBhIfUI-jI7SkSxn8GU9NymSTtw_VuX8ZXDcRPjntPYLdcRensRwghC6HTMaKNbIRTyJ-OCGfekpPCy5d2ZT-_6vqaWwY9ZuzDnHcOLb5OXvTGQ91mBCAghkHxaAVdeGmim86qlCikrCBoNw5IAxdOJkcMKbTnyNka8eQ/s874/AA%20019.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="571" data-original-width="874" height="418" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnRIDuSLhbTFUYku9TbAJRhwBhIfUI-jI7SkSxn8GU9NymSTtw_VuX8ZXDcRPjntPYLdcRensRwghC6HTMaKNbIRTyJ-OCGfekpPCy5d2ZT-_6vqaWwY9ZuzDnHcOLb5OXvTGQ91mBCAghkHxaAVdeGmim86qlCikrCBoNw5IAxdOJkcMKbTnyNka8eQ/w640-h418/AA%20019.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Six months later he was in Lexington, Kentucky (above), agreeing to pay George Willing's widow, May Ann, $50,000 for the free and clear ownership of the Peralta grant – 50% more than George had paid for it in 1863 – a transaction which, in reality, had never taken place. The monies to be paid once the Federal Government recognized the validity of the grant.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSdGVc7u6R5-0vGjci6QSIbLSFvwOYYQEj7sgd_Gs5Tin2RUzSNRx1RhPrsupy0ukKZwYw_e1i0sP19iJfnZQTLW7NWMY2DmP6g_Us0b0VEB6f74lfIw-MAf9qY5zZobaS1KkJ4WxndXfbPA4sRcLw_eSUXAfYWLgeDCFeRYgTEB_4SwjldqIip3LPHg/s648/A%20001.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="486" data-original-width="648" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSdGVc7u6R5-0vGjci6QSIbLSFvwOYYQEj7sgd_Gs5Tin2RUzSNRx1RhPrsupy0ukKZwYw_e1i0sP19iJfnZQTLW7NWMY2DmP6g_Us0b0VEB6f74lfIw-MAf9qY5zZobaS1KkJ4WxndXfbPA4sRcLw_eSUXAfYWLgeDCFeRYgTEB_4SwjldqIip3LPHg/w640-h480/A%20001.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">This proves again the central rule of capitalism, which is that everything has a value, defined as what people are willing to pay for what they want. And in most capitalist endeavors, the first step is to create the want. And that is what James Reavis was about to do.</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivKW61l0mM_FAw7HsOZfSqGhs7fzw5vPirtan3b5kE4trL3pNyOZsG-rkXw6BReYqKI0MJNyHlaxnxNUSjxUbNVGihlK5zVm7egB8epQ8k5oRDHZa_OGM-CcfKYW8aWRL6dn0nG3o5aKmZLo63bzkWt2Bwb9UMBp6zlIrvM4zxoPx0Ow6t3Cgf23aizA/s731/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(8).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="282" data-original-width="731" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivKW61l0mM_FAw7HsOZfSqGhs7fzw5vPirtan3b5kE4trL3pNyOZsG-rkXw6BReYqKI0MJNyHlaxnxNUSjxUbNVGihlK5zVm7egB8epQ8k5oRDHZa_OGM-CcfKYW8aWRL6dn0nG3o5aKmZLo63bzkWt2Bwb9UMBp6zlIrvM4zxoPx0Ow6t3Cgf23aizA/w640-h246/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(8).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large; text-align: left;">- 30 -</span></div>Kimit Mustonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03809428003905885379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5034791890201777099.post-3731643067355212432024-03-03T09:00:00.019-05:002024-03-03T09:00:00.153-05:00GREAT EXPECTATIONS Chapter Three<p> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVmmsRQ20jJv1unV0Ohe0PSYkkcuRgTU456N7f0wTVBaSwhnMtVX033VIyxQelJhZ1TvNIg56HuTmeIH8w6rSAL_XQ6GYpsEQ9wdgT60u0NmQaoce4c415yozZN1bteQ8fGyBgXzM4tmu8/s1600/Baron++70.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVmmsRQ20jJv1unV0Ohe0PSYkkcuRgTU456N7f0wTVBaSwhnMtVX033VIyxQelJhZ1TvNIg56HuTmeIH8w6rSAL_XQ6GYpsEQ9wdgT60u0NmQaoce4c415yozZN1bteQ8fGyBgXzM4tmu8/s640/Baron++70.jpg" width="477" /></a></p><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I doubt most Americans remember James Gadsden (above) . In 1840 this ex-army officer became president and primary shareholder in the South Carolina Rail Road Company. And only three things stood between him driving that railroad across Georgia, Alabama, Mississippi, Louisiana, and Texas, all the way to the Pacific Ocean. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibHC88Mb8HiK5zrg9T3-FrWimnXgAx1X4Vq7NpGIUQWOyY8IX5vfXUaOnRaBFuHH0tzd1DXIzkxvSLKFPJyAxIrLZA4MjHEK_d-eQLzG-If6teyyVP_MJg834T6HZPmNWBYCDGL14Gqbj-/s2048/AA+002.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1810" data-original-width="2048" height="566" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibHC88Mb8HiK5zrg9T3-FrWimnXgAx1X4Vq7NpGIUQWOyY8IX5vfXUaOnRaBFuHH0tzd1DXIzkxvSLKFPJyAxIrLZA4MjHEK_d-eQLzG-If6teyyVP_MJg834T6HZPmNWBYCDGL14Gqbj-/w640-h566/AA+002.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">First, his railroad was only 135 miles long and went no further west than the Georgia border (above). Second, it was over $3 million in debt ($64 million today). And third, in 1840 everything west of Texas still belonged to Mexico. But Mr. Gadsden was not willing to concede defeat before even starting. And because he was not, James Addison Reavis would have a golden opportunity to become one of the richest thieves in America – call it another unforeseen consequence.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBrLzJwMyk8VlH9Kk6kP-YequIvRKlHHSenDy2DjnMqgxKcz-xUoaDmo_N-l3P4mK2crZD0ARsn56tMsYlKfdU_vY4duARz91cQpTVaObdHFy1RSzVBuwons4HXov06XG9XleeRBtFobOL/s1600/Baron++73.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBrLzJwMyk8VlH9Kk6kP-YequIvRKlHHSenDy2DjnMqgxKcz-xUoaDmo_N-l3P4mK2crZD0ARsn56tMsYlKfdU_vY4duARz91cQpTVaObdHFy1RSzVBuwons4HXov06XG9XleeRBtFobOL/s400/Baron++73.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">By 1840 there were two routes under consideration for the first transcontinental railroad. The central route, favored by the business interests in New York and Chicago. It started in Missouri and followed the trail blazed by wagon trains already heading to the newly discovered California gold fields. The route favored by Mr, Gadsden and most southern politicians, started in either South Carolina or Georgia. However, the southerners could not decide between themselves on how to finance their railroad. And Gadsden was too arrogant to form a consensus from his own allies. The only thing the southerners could agree upon was that they could not allow the central route to be used. So as long as the south had a veto, any transcontinental railroad would remain a dream.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigvG4BZpkFE6aF0alIaQu1G7yWdIY2URzx1B9uO4TkTpPRqs4YXMKsO-uM3JhDSf-A58AcS_pp4Vq2yYEkz_6m9ocYsL-wHKJ3R15CGRrlKjTuPc0U8DJRQMm0QkYcBDUtQj0rzQAfaCWq/s1600/Baron++77.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="496" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigvG4BZpkFE6aF0alIaQu1G7yWdIY2URzx1B9uO4TkTpPRqs4YXMKsO-uM3JhDSf-A58AcS_pp4Vq2yYEkz_6m9ocYsL-wHKJ3R15CGRrlKjTuPc0U8DJRQMm0QkYcBDUtQj0rzQAfaCWq/s400/Baron++77.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The Mexican War (1846-1848) had given America a vast new empire north of the Rio Grande River, comprising what would be the states of Texas, California, Nevada, Arizona and New Mexico. But even this conquest failed to supply an acceptable route for a southern transcontinental railroad. And the "Compromise of 1850" made things even worse. In exchange for relieving Texas of its huge public debt, Texas came in as a slave state and California was admitted as a “free” state. After that, no matter who built the transcontinental railroad or where they built it - and they couldn't sidetrack into Mexico, because slavery had been outlawed there since the 1845 - the end of the line would now be a “free state”. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ7QWuLkTMvT0XdPg9Gl797nVxuNKGjYRYwHKc-4pUq0WinevkAShfVSybzcJtwGF-s8h5-RalWKDhlTLyizzDL6qrE45NejhyhSw4IUmJ3ofa_Vt7KHHn0JDXKUIAr5VZjsKBu_APF_4BuwIVa3lmF84lguEEzIRrMVuDQx4vIHAwefreXaKppQKWVw/s995/276251838_5763821563633023_8840554600327819649_n%20(3).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="995" data-original-width="800" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ7QWuLkTMvT0XdPg9Gl797nVxuNKGjYRYwHKc-4pUq0WinevkAShfVSybzcJtwGF-s8h5-RalWKDhlTLyizzDL6qrE45NejhyhSw4IUmJ3ofa_Vt7KHHn0JDXKUIAr5VZjsKBu_APF_4BuwIVa3lmF84lguEEzIRrMVuDQx4vIHAwefreXaKppQKWVw/w514-h640/276251838_5763821563633023_8840554600327819649_n%20(3).jpg" width="514" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Desperate to lure the Golden State back to the slavery side, even it it required cutting it in half, in 1851 the argumentative Gadsden (above) offered to supply 1,200 new settlers, if California would also admit “not less than two thousand...African domestics” into southern California. The ploy fooled nobody, and the proposal never got out of committee in the California legislature. Defeated again, Gadsden decided to salvage what small part of the plan he still had some control over.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZX0YSqdvsKvFjxtz8MQmjMbWdSs-zzqheKNLi54dni1ajMRQx8j_JqoE7Yf3yAk7LhpGGUl8sUfPNU5DEnr_Vax0RxnVQDYLlGXomRI2n-vh0tlDwzxSs2iyIAztbGJraAjBg_9CJm0sM/s1600/Baron++74.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="516" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZX0YSqdvsKvFjxtz8MQmjMbWdSs-zzqheKNLi54dni1ajMRQx8j_JqoE7Yf3yAk7LhpGGUl8sUfPNU5DEnr_Vax0RxnVQDYLlGXomRI2n-vh0tlDwzxSs2iyIAztbGJraAjBg_9CJm0sM/s400/Baron++74.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">If he couldn't find a way around the Mexican border beyond Texas, Gadsden decided to move the border. With assistance from Mississippi's Jefferson Davis, who at the time was President Franklin Pierce's Secretary of War, Gadsden won appointment as an agent of the United States Government, authorized to buy a southern railroad route. Now, again, the one thing James Gadsden did not have were negotiating skills, and the minute he arrived in Mexico City and opened his mouth, he offended the entire nation of Mexico. But Gadsden was in luck, because at the time (1853), the entire Mexican government consisted of one ego maniac, General Antonio Lopez de la Santa Ana.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh66xTkX3_UIUXqMoAioaMGDeDUTYdtmwAVhi0ptEhdcXP9hHQPQ3lghxW8mvhcyB71CsP7FwqhyKBUmHjN87OPRnb_fIXbvL9-REYM48OyJBt-4k4Y9-grgpS4tT39-2aPz7sK_TK0VOS9/s1600/Baron++78.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh66xTkX3_UIUXqMoAioaMGDeDUTYdtmwAVhi0ptEhdcXP9hHQPQ3lghxW8mvhcyB71CsP7FwqhyKBUmHjN87OPRnb_fIXbvL9-REYM48OyJBt-4k4Y9-grgpS4tT39-2aPz7sK_TK0VOS9/s400/Baron++78.jpg" width="473" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">This was Santa Anna's sixth go around as President-slash- dictator of Mexico. He is remembered in America for his capture of the Alamo, and killing “Davy” Crockett. But in Mexico he is remembered because he never seemed to learn from his mistakes, which constantly seems to have surprised the Mexican people. Every time a crises occurred, they turned to Santa Ana, and he kept responding by looting the country and then burning it down to destroy the evidence. Typically, in 1853, Mexico was broke, and unable to pay her army. So no matter how many ways James Gadsden insulted him, and he did find many ways of doing that, Santa Anna could not walk away from the negotiating table, because Gadsden was offering cash money.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVafS0v7JzoLkTQIZNA2wVZX6Alh7G2MvDXiorGIi2VmXxz9E57z02PmpI9ATQtwFN1NyFIu6nVG-EOQ3qO_qOPT0Y86guxHg6RXQTwRndLYmma_kljViX0OnPWPdGINVaH5dbnc9nVzCyLgC5OdegAMMU19rcByp0nlman65BLNzso3ZFN5tOfwqMiw/s400/276251838_5763821563633023_8840554600327819649_n%20(3).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="167" data-original-width="400" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVafS0v7JzoLkTQIZNA2wVZX6Alh7G2MvDXiorGIi2VmXxz9E57z02PmpI9ATQtwFN1NyFIu6nVG-EOQ3qO_qOPT0Y86guxHg6RXQTwRndLYmma_kljViX0OnPWPdGINVaH5dbnc9nVzCyLgC5OdegAMMU19rcByp0nlman65BLNzso3ZFN5tOfwqMiw/w640-h268/276251838_5763821563633023_8840554600327819649_n%20(3).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The resulting Gadsden Purchase acquired 30,000 square miles of fertile farmland, harsh desserts and valuable mineral deposits, and a railroad route over the lower end of the Rocky Mountains, all for the bargain basement price of $15 million – about thirty-three cents an acre. From the American point of view it was a great deal. From the Mexican point of view, it was rape. But really, nobody actually involved in the deal got what they wanted. The generals Santa Ana paid off with the American cash were so offended by the deal, they overthrew Santa Anna again, and sent him into retirement for the sixth and final time. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMEBLpErVtmCvQaXyExH--aRzS0WfC8CirIcCo_pDA5kW72Y-UVr98ILxJdLZopi9WYJ58-jvDpLSBb2zRzWgj-amaWCS-If_Vj3kQfdICQYK7W9YRjeiMdDueMrCB3tgW8hFfJ81JgPHuLI6p0CcgT-C9qo0DVUPBN4b0YN4Y8SBFKW605lA7uY6P3g/s640/276251838_5763821563633023_8840554600327819649_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="457" data-original-width="640" height="458" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMEBLpErVtmCvQaXyExH--aRzS0WfC8CirIcCo_pDA5kW72Y-UVr98ILxJdLZopi9WYJ58-jvDpLSBb2zRzWgj-amaWCS-If_Vj3kQfdICQYK7W9YRjeiMdDueMrCB3tgW8hFfJ81JgPHuLI6p0CcgT-C9qo0DVUPBN4b0YN4Y8SBFKW605lA7uY6P3g/w640-h458/276251838_5763821563633023_8840554600327819649_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">James Gadsden had so exhausted himself offending the Mexicans, he died the day after Christmas, 1858, and so missed the start of the American Civil War. But when the south went into rebellion in 1861 the north was free to finally build the transcontinental railroad via the central route - which they finished in 1869. And when Gadsden's dream of the southern transcontinental would finally be built in 1881, it would profit the same western men who had built the original central route out of California - Collis Potter Huntington and Charles Crocker.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_7NTz3614fbjvviDjMHk0cBKMH_rQmRaApwwcBu8Iw-02YT8io4rZWrPNTVrXN6bEoHK8RNfDh0VZ2gNI2qBTaVM42XdmaviIhq01_FIPRfpcQ4iHILiVLS7Dn7KGtgeiY8xEP6Pz1ZWa/s1600/Baron++72.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_7NTz3614fbjvviDjMHk0cBKMH_rQmRaApwwcBu8Iw-02YT8io4rZWrPNTVrXN6bEoHK8RNfDh0VZ2gNI2qBTaVM42XdmaviIhq01_FIPRfpcQ4iHILiVLS7Dn7KGtgeiY8xEP6Pz1ZWa/s400/Baron++72.jpg" width="532" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Crocker (above) was a 49'er from Indiana, who made his first fortune selling shovels to miners in Sacramento. Then he went into banking, and he was one of Big Four who formed the Central Pacific Railroad, the western end of the transcontinental. In fact "Charles Crocker and Company" was the prime contractor on the Central Pacific Railroad. Of course the shareholders in "Croker and Company" were the same men who owned the Southern Pacific. This is known as the "heads I win, tails you lose" school of finance. By 1877, the big Hoosier had so much money, he was running out of things to buy. And at that fortuitous moment, who should Croker meet but a slightly sleazy newspaper man named James Addison Reavis.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6SaHBZeFQWoikbsuBLGrY2TFs4tJzDTTy5y-QqVaHT7R6nDZ7N8k-TRLMWK32rrjD91SjxkPjEeRQU020WnSa5zagBC4zV_Kwie9kHhpq_kTErtEk1k5i7Ixf08oylfAn8E_YOUAGYJHZ/s1600/Baron++02.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6SaHBZeFQWoikbsuBLGrY2TFs4tJzDTTy5y-QqVaHT7R6nDZ7N8k-TRLMWK32rrjD91SjxkPjEeRQU020WnSa5zagBC4zV_Kwie9kHhpq_kTErtEk1k5i7Ixf08oylfAn8E_YOUAGYJHZ/s400/Baron++02.jpg" width="351" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Reavis told Croker the story of the Peralta land grant. Of course he probably did not mention that the land grant was a myth. Probably. But Crocker and a few other select California investors were willing to fund more research into the claim. Did they ever believe in the validity of the grant? They would have smiled at that question, and regarded it as unimportant. The only thing that matters in the world of Capitalism, is what you can afford to prove in court. And James Reavis could now afford to research the heck out of the Peralta land grants. And this old forger figured he stood a pretty good chance of finding every single document he went looking for. In fact, he could guarantee it.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidj4Bb48HXdzy7SfMoZ0uAEOqtbvELFNxBv0XCGIMxTZ7i_IDA7yIvuS_fXMc0aVc8vS9aRYmpad1_6wBj898kq1m1Z2xS0zCjuh6tvHCp3LKpc5-vubEhxzUNcnNsLMO2gHVRXCwOKITk/s1600/Baron++12.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidj4Bb48HXdzy7SfMoZ0uAEOqtbvELFNxBv0XCGIMxTZ7i_IDA7yIvuS_fXMc0aVc8vS9aRYmpad1_6wBj898kq1m1Z2xS0zCjuh6tvHCp3LKpc5-vubEhxzUNcnNsLMO2gHVRXCwOKITk/s400/Baron++12.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large; text-align: left;">- 30 -</span></div></div>Kimit Mustonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03809428003905885379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5034791890201777099.post-92224801597663208242024-03-02T09:00:00.026-05:002024-03-02T09:00:00.140-05:00GREAT EXPECTATIONS Chapter Two <p> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi4cQaf6eVs19ABEmHu6a-TzmOKztYCo7mSfdiwvtbHHg0Yl6ThtWsnJc8ng474D0CNrfj63ezMFimcv5AIyZrdNveL7cV3hWrqMdnYaexZSGreglKDsvCLnCCN0HwA4UQ4__X-_gGJrF2_DZQaF8uqB-Uu6-EQIN4jXeJdDITwvml9NUSGJpwuLC3Fg/s500/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(3).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="437" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi4cQaf6eVs19ABEmHu6a-TzmOKztYCo7mSfdiwvtbHHg0Yl6ThtWsnJc8ng474D0CNrfj63ezMFimcv5AIyZrdNveL7cV3hWrqMdnYaexZSGreglKDsvCLnCCN0HwA4UQ4__X-_gGJrF2_DZQaF8uqB-Uu6-EQIN4jXeJdDITwvml9NUSGJpwuLC3Fg/w560-h640/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(3).jpg" width="560" /></a></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I reject the idea that people are born evil. But then consider the level of cruelty required to spend ten years patiently inflating the dreams of a lonely and abandoned young woman (above), before smashing her psyche into a billion pieces on the anvil of your own ambition, almost as an afterthought in a plot to steal the modern equivalent of $116 million. Now, that is doing evil.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxFDgWatYnpUWAUNr8h6YULVTdFpJduJrGSdOcp4JJX4vOIVw85yMlL-gfwCw6QdxS0v2VaMwGVObXlwiO1iQj77IX42lg1ASS-N7gQ8YAgyqiug6UkTP_68-YgY2aEIJ8xiusv1CPdn8G/s1600/Baron++03.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxFDgWatYnpUWAUNr8h6YULVTdFpJduJrGSdOcp4JJX4vOIVw85yMlL-gfwCw6QdxS0v2VaMwGVObXlwiO1iQj77IX42lg1ASS-N7gQ8YAgyqiug6UkTP_68-YgY2aEIJ8xiusv1CPdn8G/s400/Baron++03.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Evil's name was James Addison Reavis (above) and he was the second son of a Missouri shop keeper He was half Welsh, one quarter Scots and one quarter Mexican. James grew up fluent in both Spanish and English. And, as any young creature entering the world, his initial survival depended on the skills nature had provided him and his ambition. In James' case, nature had made Missouri a border state, torn between Union loyalties and Southern sympathies. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0ZF2AcHU0TxbgcK6tr3kjGYaPSY3OXEmGiidwtQXgDBbiHEiozoay-l4LyJu6NuD1jxVE1JwwQSgH4tmI722_Z5i4QuvblqOKucWTSTBuVPtBnHx_eWg5OggihEEgE8DFHgYXlEdd-FxcTbdcxR15An34bKQcqLZCo1-jtDBaJvgCPFoyMwWOHj7x8w/s457/276251838_5763821563633023_8840554600327819649_n%20(2).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="457" data-original-width="335" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0ZF2AcHU0TxbgcK6tr3kjGYaPSY3OXEmGiidwtQXgDBbiHEiozoay-l4LyJu6NuD1jxVE1JwwQSgH4tmI722_Z5i4QuvblqOKucWTSTBuVPtBnHx_eWg5OggihEEgE8DFHgYXlEdd-FxcTbdcxR15An34bKQcqLZCo1-jtDBaJvgCPFoyMwWOHj7x8w/w470-h640/276251838_5763821563633023_8840554600327819649_n%20(2).jpg" width="470" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">When civil war broke out in 1861 the 18 year old James volunteered for military service in a Confederate regiment, where he discovered he had a facility for forging his commanding officer's signature. He supplemented his army pay by selling passes to his fellow soldiers, until the officers grew suspicious. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtRgXJi4JMBK_oX4H44b9UlDzLIWV4cjlsIqgkcKNo4EArBXBlDzEN2-LtMCmxammkSTS0l1BrBTo9CvjWCVzmSraDABW5JFdyE5emsNxAGNcPfcdUdJ9ieG40AjRcFE0MaX5cEJiEAoQbq6iY_8yoJuadk-MVdY6_jngbCoMfsCzRaNKQcNY36vgLmQ/s1000/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(4).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="1000" height="384" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtRgXJi4JMBK_oX4H44b9UlDzLIWV4cjlsIqgkcKNo4EArBXBlDzEN2-LtMCmxammkSTS0l1BrBTo9CvjWCVzmSraDABW5JFdyE5emsNxAGNcPfcdUdJ9ieG40AjRcFE0MaX5cEJiEAoQbq6iY_8yoJuadk-MVdY6_jngbCoMfsCzRaNKQcNY36vgLmQ/w640-h384/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(4).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Before things got to too hot, James (above) wrote himself a pass and changed sides, enlisting in the Union Army. Because the Federal side was paying bounties for recruits. After the war James returned home with confidence in his own survival skills, and, oddly, having added the Portuguese language to his skill set.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIpHqFwIkmHtwZI19l822dHwR1DerLVwXsOH7mS8U6Ut55flx6qiIGlJtW0TcdGYjbG8qnUtW5ptJM0ue8UBu8hD7z-E9vPtCOV4lwxy40UUgyrMLkrPmTNtIcI9Ouq8xWlhpQx4Mf30Uj/s1600/Baron++12.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIpHqFwIkmHtwZI19l822dHwR1DerLVwXsOH7mS8U6Ut55flx6qiIGlJtW0TcdGYjbG8qnUtW5ptJM0ue8UBu8hD7z-E9vPtCOV4lwxy40UUgyrMLkrPmTNtIcI9Ouq8xWlhpQx4Mf30Uj/s400/Baron++12.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">James Reavis now fell in with a group of organized criminals - real estate agents. They put his skill with a pen to work again, creating the missing link in many a false legal ownership trail. And it was as a real estate agent, aptly named George Willing, who introduced James to his life's work. That was not Willing's intent, of course. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEAjFXTKEl1pRmN80MzCd9cWWkyw2OS3Us5QxFTt5q8J8h6VzNkQUPP4igr_yDawXX6ADegv5qwwC8ArIDA3r5Di5PIGCCQEuevMct0u0gibYi8sftOMsJEDUMl6wkPBbX3UNt6kUnsUf7XWAPk5NNqUtB6dJxlaz_dwNr5PBEsiIR5oDiGCZxM6i4aA/s1600/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(2).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="904" data-original-width="1600" height="362" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEAjFXTKEl1pRmN80MzCd9cWWkyw2OS3Us5QxFTt5q8J8h6VzNkQUPP4igr_yDawXX6ADegv5qwwC8ArIDA3r5Di5PIGCCQEuevMct0u0gibYi8sftOMsJEDUMl6wkPBbX3UNt6kUnsUf7XWAPk5NNqUtB6dJxlaz_dwNr5PBEsiIR5oDiGCZxM6i4aA/w640-h362/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(2).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The scam Willing was running had been born in the treaty which ended the Mexican/American war of 1846 to 1848. The United States annexed a<span style="color: #202124; font-family: times;"><span style="background-color: white;">ll or parts of the future states of </span></span>New Mexico, Arizona, Nevada, Utah and California. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5Aq6Lxs7NX1jEA4pC28HDR9QHRmS0FyGsnhw35MiS9Hi4nYDPHodiSw8BFok5bNYNt4kjTZl93FaZMPqFTpj_X2wk7m_yGxTl8op2W19fGUlB01FHqqq-LJ-mSf9lEGz8q5T0yVVnpl6MxkBEWpOjD0ftae1RL5LPW7ZHE1ffL6BFjrqRUZz7AkCMMw/s1186/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(4).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="844" data-original-width="1186" height="456" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5Aq6Lxs7NX1jEA4pC28HDR9QHRmS0FyGsnhw35MiS9Hi4nYDPHodiSw8BFok5bNYNt4kjTZl93FaZMPqFTpj_X2wk7m_yGxTl8op2W19fGUlB01FHqqq-LJ-mSf9lEGz8q5T0yVVnpl6MxkBEWpOjD0ftae1RL5LPW7ZHE1ffL6BFjrqRUZz7AkCMMw/w640-h456/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(4).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">To avoid rebellion in these new territories the U.S. government pledge to respect all land titles and contracts signed under Mexican law, including the original Spanish land grants. And that is where George Willing came into our story, in 1871, with a fake bill of sale from a one time Mexican citizen. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGCXK1Arxa5JAhvRgrJ0-hFEfKuarIH2vTLO1lpemsPVOdS7_JK32Ag9IC42o5rzECfNZx4hfil0D1-YCWUoEoSDriivO8sa0q6emJm-UW3ZfHbbM4qEroqaglH0q3Yc_8XPQ77_iW0OfOFq16KYMc3rrdaH7TKW3M5vl8GmHH9zGCqetnDnnNBXWrMw/s1141/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(2).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="679" data-original-width="1141" height="380" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGCXK1Arxa5JAhvRgrJ0-hFEfKuarIH2vTLO1lpemsPVOdS7_JK32Ag9IC42o5rzECfNZx4hfil0D1-YCWUoEoSDriivO8sa0q6emJm-UW3ZfHbbM4qEroqaglH0q3Yc_8XPQ77_iW0OfOFq16KYMc3rrdaH7TKW3M5vl8GmHH9zGCqetnDnnNBXWrMw/w640-h380/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(2).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Willing claimed that in October of 1864, while working on a mining claim in Black Canyon, Arizona Territory (above) - about 50 miles north of Phoenix - he had bought the mineral rights for a poorly defined section of land from a Miguel Peralta (Spanish for "high rock" or mountain) in exchange for $20,000 in gold, some mining equipment and some mules.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_MdBdLgsHYC_NHRdoTau7J5rRfpIGEP9VAvNblI22NV2gHqH6QUGDNxmLJ38iOeVubPH9FPZxnfij1-tAHMxL5il1IDnI1o5WSF73JFJQz_Ybn6h7q2O1ZvVDEUtZzSnpOcBn0JwNM2O-nR9Gf5JcoJd-KzwMcSkZ8LMlVs9qhUS1NLnUUYhBYynbzw/s999/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(5).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="785" data-original-width="999" height="502" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_MdBdLgsHYC_NHRdoTau7J5rRfpIGEP9VAvNblI22NV2gHqH6QUGDNxmLJ38iOeVubPH9FPZxnfij1-tAHMxL5il1IDnI1o5WSF73JFJQz_Ybn6h7q2O1ZvVDEUtZzSnpOcBn0JwNM2O-nR9Gf5JcoJd-KzwMcSkZ8LMlVs9qhUS1NLnUUYhBYynbzw/w640-h502/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(5).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Willing had forged a written the bill of sale (above) in pencil, supposedly on the only piece of paper in the mining camp. But he said he could not file a record of the sale until three years later, in Prescott, Arizona, the territorial capital. Of course by then, the claim had proven profitable to somebody else. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir-hzAOO-OpVXzeN9Ssni_wOPQLSAgiptEMzVEISWV7uXIRVaKB8G3GWbA6sB2guZtq6Vi6EJ2oDk6GW5kjhNIIuIKiCa6q-JeTjeN-ftZxBef4F0GqKCdPRMav4K_D7Yqcb3inyp2CD0MJHspLDmglim2qA1iAc3O76jnzZXFls6NaMJ5cw9iLxKiUA/s504/276251838_5763821563633023_8840554600327819649_n%20(2).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="319" data-original-width="504" height="406" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir-hzAOO-OpVXzeN9Ssni_wOPQLSAgiptEMzVEISWV7uXIRVaKB8G3GWbA6sB2guZtq6Vi6EJ2oDk6GW5kjhNIIuIKiCa6q-JeTjeN-ftZxBef4F0GqKCdPRMav4K_D7Yqcb3inyp2CD0MJHspLDmglim2qA1iAc3O76jnzZXFls6NaMJ5cw9iLxKiUA/w640-h406/276251838_5763821563633023_8840554600327819649_n%20(2).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">This type of challenge to an existing claim was called “a floater” and was not unusual in mining districts. Because of this it was was popular with scam artists, because the real mine owners would often settle the suit out of court by paying for a "quick claim", just to avoid the expense of proving the claim false at lengthy trial. And it turned out there were several established mines already working the land which Willing was now claiming title to. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-GG7i4c_w5Wl3CX-Hv5SkNB3gn34DYQK0O-dnECiiK3QArDwxNA6br5k-qZXoJMa4HgliU1098bu5CFpQOKxpdESZ4mTFku3jfBb0jqdxv_YJd4iavl4NuxN_wo1ZrZX1NeoatKg3W70STbQQORDd3TgPCv7OnR84B4GLyzM_3pBM-kzVwNTawxEyyg/s698/AA%20015.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="481" data-original-width="698" height="442" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-GG7i4c_w5Wl3CX-Hv5SkNB3gn34DYQK0O-dnECiiK3QArDwxNA6br5k-qZXoJMa4HgliU1098bu5CFpQOKxpdESZ4mTFku3jfBb0jqdxv_YJd4iavl4NuxN_wo1ZrZX1NeoatKg3W70STbQQORDd3TgPCv7OnR84B4GLyzM_3pBM-kzVwNTawxEyyg/w640-h442/AA%20015.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">But so familiar were the local miners with this particular scam that George Willing's filing quickly resulted in threats of tar and feathers. So George had retreated from Prescott, first to Sacramento, California, where he had used the fake bill of sale to secure a loan, which paid his way home to St. Louis, Missouri. His intention, once there, was to continue to pursue his false claim, but this time in a safer venue - the Federal courts.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaCUYAi-Dgbj7cdTtvcyA_gLvhJcKK1F_wOQMfb95OKZa5Xk7takrqVQ03DXDQU3mhJsOClIVcr5vIg3M1KzhiLVFJKdracdp22Nrqho0vPRc4dOao9UnIwod9gc1ZnJSo8m3m-vjia1jz/s1600/Baron++04.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="483" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaCUYAi-Dgbj7cdTtvcyA_gLvhJcKK1F_wOQMfb95OKZa5Xk7takrqVQ03DXDQU3mhJsOClIVcr5vIg3M1KzhiLVFJKdracdp22Nrqho0vPRc4dOao9UnIwod9gc1ZnJSo8m3m-vjia1jz/s640/Baron++04.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">In Missouri over the next two years, James Reavis and George Willing spent many hours discussing how best to secure the financial backing they required to pay for their legal blackmail of the real claim owners. They teamed up with a lawyer named William Gitt, who was an expert, of a sorts, in old Spanish land claims, including one out of Guadalajara, Mexico dating back to 1847. Mr. Gitt had been forced to abandon that particular case after a Mexican bench warrant had been issued for his arrest for fraud. And as they invested more time and effort in constructing their fraud, they enlarged his claim. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAq4ILJpRYcvZ6KtQRXSu7YEzPWbBqmSur0bDfCBmhO8WB6AeIQZU3zdSoT799watwfGbhXAcMcTj6_pE3jgIlwHTjWlUVs1nAoFa6AGmzkyGMY0i0urxapSTKVbOtVMc3TajMzpsE2RoQOmmg-bURM6z9KZBuDvfks9uzPXBnGI2Op3BT_2gwNl3VdA/s758/AA%20010.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="758" data-original-width="453" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAq4ILJpRYcvZ6KtQRXSu7YEzPWbBqmSur0bDfCBmhO8WB6AeIQZU3zdSoT799watwfGbhXAcMcTj6_pE3jgIlwHTjWlUVs1nAoFa6AGmzkyGMY0i0urxapSTKVbOtVMc3TajMzpsE2RoQOmmg-bURM6z9KZBuDvfks9uzPXBnGI2Op3BT_2gwNl3VdA/w382-h640/AA%20010.jpg" width="382" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Gitt lectured James and George about the intricacies of Mexican and Spanish land law. And in January of 1874, on Gitt's advice, James and George formed a legal partnership. Then, they separated. George Willing took the paperwork they had “discovered” (meaning created) by rail and horseback back to Prescott, Arizona, to re-file his claim on the mines in Black Canyon. James Reavis took a train to New York City, where he boarded a ship, bound for San Francisco.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0VS2csaSjhOhfQdQg9P0Oh_MSao0GCUk50b-QpQcckEsl4tkNmxlWdV0ANtsw5fN1yrCwRNiob_LYSdtm6spaofrep4jPvM8gfxxQNTxkdIS2Kk2_nCuOXVCBJV2LDmbTb4H3JXtoC9rKtxxdSoPBNT4q_JBmVZ3eFpNAuuUFMumUcoQd7KrdQVXztw/s431/AA%20015%20(2).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="269" data-original-width="431" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0VS2csaSjhOhfQdQg9P0Oh_MSao0GCUk50b-QpQcckEsl4tkNmxlWdV0ANtsw5fN1yrCwRNiob_LYSdtm6spaofrep4jPvM8gfxxQNTxkdIS2Kk2_nCuOXVCBJV2LDmbTb4H3JXtoC9rKtxxdSoPBNT4q_JBmVZ3eFpNAuuUFMumUcoQd7KrdQVXztw/w640-h400/AA%20015%20(2).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Step one in the plan was for James to meet up with a Sacramento, California (above), merchant named Florin Massol. Massol was the dupe who had loaned Willing money years earlier on his fake land claim. The collateral Willing had offered to guarantee the loan were the fraudulent mining rights on the mythical Miguel Peralta land grant. Paying back the loan would provide a seemingly valid paper trail for the fake claim. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhy4xu7bGrJYTQFxN-XUv7kNYgka5i6T4-Usi1jwIGXhe1ltMwSBA2qpzLnQidBbU7XGa8bgacW4b_LwQsu9oeFWeDU91Ss--FU4oe_noj1Wwo5orsnz3EbULsrC352_F5j1e2D64fvWN1dqcq_HIqzXVraSJNn6TGW6bJiiXt4BF77S4mKstMi0OqKg/s1650/AA%20015%20(2)_LI.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="854" data-original-width="1650" height="332" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhy4xu7bGrJYTQFxN-XUv7kNYgka5i6T4-Usi1jwIGXhe1ltMwSBA2qpzLnQidBbU7XGa8bgacW4b_LwQsu9oeFWeDU91Ss--FU4oe_noj1Wwo5orsnz3EbULsrC352_F5j1e2D64fvWN1dqcq_HIqzXVraSJNn6TGW6bJiiXt4BF77S4mKstMi0OqKg/w640-h332/AA%20015%20(2)_LI.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Step two was for James to travel on to Prescott, Arizona (above) later that summer with the mineral rights now free and clear, and appearing unconnected to George's earlier filling for the same imaginary Peralta grant. The idea was that two seemingly unconnected individuals filing separate claims on the Peralta grant would increase the pressure on the mine owners to settle the suits even quicker. But upon arriving in San Francisco, James received a startling letter from an Arizona Sheriff.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPySCdT5DHta_bksDbw-UudfI7R7Zuc6ssmXYU4WjObQCmtpV7WAexpRR2LW1bl8BuLlLpFyeNf37inbc-Fy7oSiQALmEdBCxDPA3my-XbJvy05sY8bKagjjUpcTq2aiHeHPOibJZ26cZ7nek5gIshmo8QcGgCXV-7UQVF7DnKKK7bU-_ehdDzW6am_g/s587/AA%20015%20(3).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="587" data-original-width="558" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPySCdT5DHta_bksDbw-UudfI7R7Zuc6ssmXYU4WjObQCmtpV7WAexpRR2LW1bl8BuLlLpFyeNf37inbc-Fy7oSiQALmEdBCxDPA3my-XbJvy05sY8bKagjjUpcTq2aiHeHPOibJZ26cZ7nek5gIshmo8QcGgCXV-7UQVF7DnKKK7bU-_ehdDzW6am_g/w608-h640/AA%20015%20(3).jpg" width="608" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The letter was addressed to the only name found in George Willing's address book - James Reeves, care of general delivery, San Francisco. According to the sheriff, George Willing had safely arrived in Prescott in March of 1874, and had immediately filed his claim at the Yavapai County Court house. Willing had then checked into a hotel (above), eaten a hearty dinner and retired to his room In the morning, he was found dead. George Willing was willing no more. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBmPlMR3D5BV5_7KfGNqpduLuKOwcJ9SqNFuBmfuaThY9C2mCwbl5t031QFPGwVEx9xtkeEvPlsIHSJlkQKfpPfaQgQiEgEqFpXGzH6kRC4E7pRuGruVffjfpgRJVk6AFQEQvQ1jAsrrglAYK_SC91kD8tDRLdFV1PbLtkOHr4_oqIfdG2QhYHvz4nfA/s852/276251838_5763821563633023_8840554600327819649_n%20(2).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="852" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBmPlMR3D5BV5_7KfGNqpduLuKOwcJ9SqNFuBmfuaThY9C2mCwbl5t031QFPGwVEx9xtkeEvPlsIHSJlkQKfpPfaQgQiEgEqFpXGzH6kRC4E7pRuGruVffjfpgRJVk6AFQEQvQ1jAsrrglAYK_SC91kD8tDRLdFV1PbLtkOHr4_oqIfdG2QhYHvz4nfA/w640-h360/276251838_5763821563633023_8840554600327819649_n%20(2).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The sheriff offered no cause of death. Maybe it had been a heart attack, or maybe someone remembered George Willing from his earlier adventures in questionable mining claims. The sheriff was only interested in preforming his civic duty, and finding someone to pay the undertaker. And with that shocking news, the partnership was dissolved and whatever plans had been assembled to profit from the mythical Peralta land grant, died with George.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihDBoGSp67rX_uwkL3rBzUzm8K9xQsYrINCLfwIgz2EPkNXIu8eU28zM-Xy2eYlgz0qmbqFJwmg96R0AS796iuVfVIEfCRLs7gAofPmWIt16Mdof1DeCzoencMf0DqrwVFXhUKit-mo_nG/s1600/Baron++29.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="468" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihDBoGSp67rX_uwkL3rBzUzm8K9xQsYrINCLfwIgz2EPkNXIu8eU28zM-Xy2eYlgz0qmbqFJwmg96R0AS796iuVfVIEfCRLs7gAofPmWIt16Mdof1DeCzoencMf0DqrwVFXhUKit-mo_nG/s400/Baron++29.png" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">But George's death also left James Reeves was in a terrible fix. He was not interested in paying for poor George's funeral. He wasn't even happy about being connected in public with George's claim. But, according to the sheriff's letter, the papers James had forged to support George's claim on the mining lands, were still on file at the Yavapai County Court house. James Reavis could not pursue his own claim without those papers. But, if George's death had not been accident, Prescott, Arizona might not be the safest place right now. James Reavis needed time to think. And he needed money. So, on 5 May 1874, he got married.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN8tLt1bkxGFtM4Bb5rm75hdQaX10voJ9qPF-T8P8DrGAzZHRG5_CLB7GBNfe2ssxHdOHbcXlrr-mwufqLTAahUKB-YBy2t1mICzRGZwsZ1OZA9uKqCjlrTju-Eyer4wuwt1ppca4rE3C2KR13n9XEZIW010KNGIbvDMIawMqT5rP8iYxP7qcvCSa1mg/s830/276251838_5763821563633023_8840554600327819649_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="523" data-original-width="830" height="404" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN8tLt1bkxGFtM4Bb5rm75hdQaX10voJ9qPF-T8P8DrGAzZHRG5_CLB7GBNfe2ssxHdOHbcXlrr-mwufqLTAahUKB-YBy2t1mICzRGZwsZ1OZA9uKqCjlrTju-Eyer4wuwt1ppca4rE3C2KR13n9XEZIW010KNGIbvDMIawMqT5rP8iYxP7qcvCSa1mg/w640-h404/276251838_5763821563633023_8840554600327819649_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The lucky lady was Ada Pope. After a short honeymoon, James went looking for work and Ada never saw him again. Six years later the unfortunate lady finally filed for divorce. In the meantime, James had found a job as a school teacher in the tiny Southern California farming town of Downey (above). </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBqZT-afQSDMWcc5UBPj_7NkRC1Wsh3yXwB9cqcmMb9E9sJNESsydyMucqz-6Tw1FEm6IP3vfCDJI_jkPblRkKoYZXxaVj5C9GY4OcdAVl5Gx7fALA1AT_MlM9J55Lt4ULMFnrAJS8m5SAnUlO-9jHZ8BCF6ZQ-5A5OxUjBQhzwEoXnWjVpPBc-pF5YA/s430/276251838_5763821563633023_8840554600327819649_n%20(2).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="185" data-original-width="430" height="276" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBqZT-afQSDMWcc5UBPj_7NkRC1Wsh3yXwB9cqcmMb9E9sJNESsydyMucqz-6Tw1FEm6IP3vfCDJI_jkPblRkKoYZXxaVj5C9GY4OcdAVl5Gx7fALA1AT_MlM9J55Lt4ULMFnrAJS8m5SAnUlO-9jHZ8BCF6ZQ-5A5OxUjBQhzwEoXnWjVpPBc-pF5YA/w640-h276/276251838_5763821563633023_8840554600327819649_n%20(2).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">After two quiet years laying low in Downey, James returned to San Francisco (above), where he became a newspaper correspondent for "The Examiner" and "The Call", specializing in covering the Public Land Commission. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw5D3IROtK1ETiMZTZYhOrDMn5ca5x7twDLVp_vBK-TnVoo2erzdFsyjtGmkp8JuJy90oOfdiTsWDf9zrKNlaF24KxZ5bXNlgXojZYVTcfXsqQLv2_UdfEYO6KMV2dRsxIMUyzAZEcSdj75mU8W0nFBw0-1vPg0h7I6H0z7fZt-zAisr-5YTPlWT2Z3Q/s553/276251838_5763821563633023_8840554600327819649_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="435" data-original-width="553" height="504" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw5D3IROtK1ETiMZTZYhOrDMn5ca5x7twDLVp_vBK-TnVoo2erzdFsyjtGmkp8JuJy90oOfdiTsWDf9zrKNlaF24KxZ5bXNlgXojZYVTcfXsqQLv2_UdfEYO6KMV2dRsxIMUyzAZEcSdj75mU8W0nFBw0-1vPg0h7I6H0z7fZt-zAisr-5YTPlWT2Z3Q/w640-h504/276251838_5763821563633023_8840554600327819649_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">From this position James made himself familiar to the most powerful men in the city, including two who had just built the Southern Pacific line, the western half of the transcontinental railroad, Collis Huntington and Charles Crocker (above) - two of the biggest crooks in American history.. By now a plan had formed in James' mind, a way to re-assemble the pieces of his search for wealth and security.</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0xGxy40EVKr6NZrrkYIiXGBoD1eglpe-zoFtbuOHtESzRYnJfQ4DDQV9fPA-kTuqQqf-TTt5aLtHbKCC4QpnjP00F9EwNpTwJRXx54LoOhRpTwk8ZEhxgvQ6ixuR-Tq4xjMuKtWVk2dCr/s1600/Baaron++69.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0xGxy40EVKr6NZrrkYIiXGBoD1eglpe-zoFtbuOHtESzRYnJfQ4DDQV9fPA-kTuqQqf-TTt5aLtHbKCC4QpnjP00F9EwNpTwJRXx54LoOhRpTwk8ZEhxgvQ6ixuR-Tq4xjMuKtWVk2dCr/s400/Baaron++69.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">It would be a great gamble. But then America had been built on gambles, usually with other people's money. And that was just what James Addison Reavis was going to do - use other people's money to steal a fortune for himself. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKD_dpdg1AFI64AVZRqCZWNpgby9w1-N9d26OjO4bhUvESVD-moUXgAjoABSGF4J3oEKuz6dba4B4FSUsygIMb83auOLymWoN2F-vB5Wh4wOOafgeWQio8goSLhiHBU4XWWp52_0PshNt2/s1600/baron++54.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="481" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKD_dpdg1AFI64AVZRqCZWNpgby9w1-N9d26OjO4bhUvESVD-moUXgAjoABSGF4J3oEKuz6dba4B4FSUsygIMb83auOLymWoN2F-vB5Wh4wOOafgeWQio8goSLhiHBU4XWWp52_0PshNt2/s400/baron++54.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large; text-align: left;">- 30 -</span></div></div>Kimit Mustonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03809428003905885379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5034791890201777099.post-5257225297313579982024-03-01T09:00:00.001-05:002024-03-01T09:00:00.154-05:00GREAT EXPECTATIONS - Chapter One<p><span style="font-family: times;"> </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBidSvhm7NUr8buUXDtanauSksHCot3DIXw8gg5691Ix4BNqJL2TQva8g8jcywHYweLAkoSNqhfLzZKnmgqYUZHAMG5xosqM7m17qJJeC9TT6A3FAFEhIm8mjZxOXOcAwzFSChQhCq54Ux/s1600/Baron++65.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="494" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBidSvhm7NUr8buUXDtanauSksHCot3DIXw8gg5691Ix4BNqJL2TQva8g8jcywHYweLAkoSNqhfLzZKnmgqYUZHAMG5xosqM7m17qJJeC9TT6A3FAFEhIm8mjZxOXOcAwzFSChQhCq54Ux/s640/Baron++65.jpg" width="640" /></a></p><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">I want to share with you a Cinderella adventure of royalty in disguise. It begins in 1742 when 32 year old Don Miguel Nemecio Silva de Peralta de la Corboda set foot in the city of Guadalajara, New Spain. He was on a secret mission, and carried papers identifying him as the “vistador del rey”, a visitor from the King, marking him as a wealthy and accomplished man, with rich and powerful friends.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh703QclR9whwGGTUKzJ9wwh8mJ-ICuTCRbvkIs37nwK92w1jc3KrmJAzEK8V0G2oes3NVbcuOKAjxcUlG200N2QW0or7Qds6leYs6mRksWb3Gzjs1CwzBPex9eufU-lmiU42vuRjD4eWYtYHHv0rPna-N3WDa7HziSncubZv2OmAjzFSqVdnAQ9sDDvw/s4032/276251838_5763821563633023_8840554600327819649_n%20(3).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh703QclR9whwGGTUKzJ9wwh8mJ-ICuTCRbvkIs37nwK92w1jc3KrmJAzEK8V0G2oes3NVbcuOKAjxcUlG200N2QW0or7Qds6leYs6mRksWb3Gzjs1CwzBPex9eufU-lmiU42vuRjD4eWYtYHHv0rPna-N3WDa7HziSncubZv2OmAjzFSqVdnAQ9sDDvw/w480-h640/276251838_5763821563633023_8840554600327819649_n%20(3).jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">He wore the gold collar of a Knight of the Golden Fleece (above), a title which placed him above the law, as he could only be arrested on a warrant signed by six other Knights, and there were only fifty of those in all of Spain. He was also a member of the order of Montesa, warrior Knights who served under Cistercian beneficence. Eventually he would become the “Baron of the Dry Area”; or, in Spanish, the “arida zona.” But that would carry only those privileges he could make of them.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmZqo20cfiaGP-sWvK7pGgBRXxUcR3YkpF_Ko0aeU390byMs68MAF4lEpjRw2PEh8ELUHh4K7s4gJPWcIgzOE5h4hXtrBXLrXBWervHx-wgKr1OfOx2trm2PSbpptxiimB8frCkQIPgSt7/s1600/Baron++55.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmZqo20cfiaGP-sWvK7pGgBRXxUcR3YkpF_Ko0aeU390byMs68MAF4lEpjRw2PEh8ELUHh4K7s4gJPWcIgzOE5h4hXtrBXLrXBWervHx-wgKr1OfOx2trm2PSbpptxiimB8frCkQIPgSt7/s400/Baron++55.jpg" width="362" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Two years later, pleased with Don Miguel's performance of his mission, Philip V of Spain promoted him and gave him an enormous grant of about 1,328,000 acres of land, leaving it up to Augustin de Ahumada, the Viceroy of New Spain, to pick the exact spot. It took Don Miguel ten years of searching for the best location. Finally on 3 January, 1758, the Viceroy designated the grant as lying north of the Mission of San Xavier del Bac, on the Santa Cruz River, eastward from the confluence of the Salt and Gila Rivers. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB8RZ8RCH9gacMyHtkrPLiIL3-4uFl4JA6w7CYPrerzHMTOWDkrr7dsSCg9WqEh2el5XIaJIWhgiONFMlC61O4jRhFKToOk_YoKuJI9-F2J6sRazu2Luu6rWQ2saVBP0XA8M64yTkjmmVgm-OaV6tINPp4dXrUu7uY3cdoX0OPhC3byNiHHFeRKqYUcQ/s768/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(2).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="768" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB8RZ8RCH9gacMyHtkrPLiIL3-4uFl4JA6w7CYPrerzHMTOWDkrr7dsSCg9WqEh2el5XIaJIWhgiONFMlC61O4jRhFKToOk_YoKuJI9-F2J6sRazu2Luu6rWQ2saVBP0XA8M64yTkjmmVgm-OaV6tINPp4dXrUu7uY3cdoX0OPhC3byNiHHFeRKqYUcQ/w640-h416/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(2).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">In May of that year Don Miguel, accompanied by a priest and two military officers traveled to the desert site and consecrated the grant on a barren hill he named the “Inicial”, or first, monument. Here Miguel scratched his mark upon a large rock, and laid claim to his new world empire.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7KeOI_DKyFqK4R9c0uUphlihqkcI7ianL_i6YbG7b_wWVJDEL_bt5cUt7lp9zln3jBWfO8hRM8jDe_8qH87Vzc9vPruGBYWhKPqpFYKe9Pvanmk2RUgqyMPCtNY-F92DzKTS-6H2fi4Gl/s1600/Baron++60.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="441" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7KeOI_DKyFqK4R9c0uUphlihqkcI7ianL_i6YbG7b_wWVJDEL_bt5cUt7lp9zln3jBWfO8hRM8jDe_8qH87Vzc9vPruGBYWhKPqpFYKe9Pvanmk2RUgqyMPCtNY-F92DzKTS-6H2fi4Gl/s400/Baron++60.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Don Miguel Peralta immediately took physical possession of his land, establishing a base camp around the Pueblo ruins of Casa Grande. But the local Apache Indians did not recognize the claims of a far off Spanish monarch, and their constant raiding forced Don Miguel to return south of the Gila River, to the Mexican state of Sonora. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglQIX0G7IJtaOEaBNE5XCWB3_XvQBMknitD54MylyA0PUCClO5pgKLVnlTd9j_1v_HgH0fLdQ2qRCftgSXmJLY0XdlCFkMBVUqisAAc5xzQv5ooyYbxJjYCv292ZUgSjLcMmu2vzkZU6dK7t32HJVOvN_AsG732gW_1Wo7wsNXxE3V9RigLquZgE0tWg/s460/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(6).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="460" data-original-width="330" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglQIX0G7IJtaOEaBNE5XCWB3_XvQBMknitD54MylyA0PUCClO5pgKLVnlTd9j_1v_HgH0fLdQ2qRCftgSXmJLY0XdlCFkMBVUqisAAc5xzQv5ooyYbxJjYCv292ZUgSjLcMmu2vzkZU6dK7t32HJVOvN_AsG732gW_1Wo7wsNXxE3V9RigLquZgE0tWg/w460-h640/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(6).jpg" width="460" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Here he bought land and settled down. And his retreat was not without its benefits. In 1770 he married the lovely Sofia Ave Maria Sanchez Bonilla de Amaya y Garcia de Orosco. He settled his new bride in Guadalajara. In 1776 Charles III reaffirmed Don Miguel's grant to the north, even though the vassal still dare not take physical possession of the land. And in 1781 Don Miguel and Sofia had a son, Jesus Miguel Silva de Peralta.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiiJUDQUk1vQMIkTWq5vFbDqPg_j8-b5OMdZ8cGOeCrEKVPxkOw7hw69o9kvlteUqipPmJqgYBiOlOpV4RXJ2_sWvC-KQ3f3D4a42W6acYo_uSLcEvwqJiPGrl9q1ILfUFWSNwwvH7e7xT/s1600/Baron++59.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="572" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiiJUDQUk1vQMIkTWq5vFbDqPg_j8-b5OMdZ8cGOeCrEKVPxkOw7hw69o9kvlteUqipPmJqgYBiOlOpV4RXJ2_sWvC-KQ3f3D4a42W6acYo_uSLcEvwqJiPGrl9q1ILfUFWSNwwvH7e7xT/s400/Baron++59.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Jesus Peralta showed little interest in his arid inheritance, and built his life in and around Guadalajara, accustomed to wealth and privilege. He did not settle down until he he was forty, marrying a local girl, Dona Juana Laura Ibarra, in 1822. In February of 1824 his father, Don Miguel Peralta, died at the fantastic age of 114 years, and Jesus Miguel inherited the family estates in and around Guadalajara, as well as a ranch in Sonora. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQdiVRvv7ZJpm2bfkYp8BC0LiUMlydSgC00Kco9HRKXuxOQkdkMlqrsdPJDykz-n-5qFNP3ariMkSoajDniXdF25VvpDMABNxWkxB2nHhiBkYNByeiX8uNDV4rM0cyaF7uU3vLeqAljwNKbMA9MGnYe0rYGgw2A5f1jD1d5uAQkl1SgGMNA_GWf1-MiA/s1024/276251838_5763821563633023_8840554600327819649_n%20(3).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="891" data-original-width="1024" height="556" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQdiVRvv7ZJpm2bfkYp8BC0LiUMlydSgC00Kco9HRKXuxOQkdkMlqrsdPJDykz-n-5qFNP3ariMkSoajDniXdF25VvpDMABNxWkxB2nHhiBkYNByeiX8uNDV4rM0cyaF7uU3vLeqAljwNKbMA9MGnYe0rYGgw2A5f1jD1d5uAQkl1SgGMNA_GWf1-MiA/w640-h556/276251838_5763821563633023_8840554600327819649_n%20(3).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">There was also the still unoccupied desert grant to the north, but Don Jesus Miguel made no effort to claim that land or even show an interest in it. And after mortgaging and then losing his Guadalajara properties, Jesus and Dona retreated to their ranch in Sonora. There they produced their only child, a girl named Sophia.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9Qd4IGS9cXckdkgbIobapPwkvT61wlJ_W26DVIDVfashUz8oJokUIrQTPOWWBwcVwPnbDhwu2svirn2O3LAlzQLScI1Vn_TO9ij9TVN0qlloxcutPsf6o2Wzn0rRGIsi4A542BFWJaC5q/s1600/Baron++33.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9Qd4IGS9cXckdkgbIobapPwkvT61wlJ_W26DVIDVfashUz8oJokUIrQTPOWWBwcVwPnbDhwu2svirn2O3LAlzQLScI1Vn_TO9ij9TVN0qlloxcutPsf6o2Wzn0rRGIsi4A542BFWJaC5q/s400/Baron++33.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Sophia Peralta grew to be a pretty girl, but the eligible bachelors were few and far between. And the bride's family was by now, not considered the best, even in the limited social world of the empty desert lands south of the Gila River. Dona Sophia Peralta did not find a husband until she was 28. And only after the vows were exchanged in 1860 did it became apparent the union had been a gamble for both sides of the aisle. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfckUoptV9mLJZB--SEvtbSpKPKnOi-5ViN0E8D3TICH8Puk3qKSqvzfcQIHFj73m3kLOH_-BLntDHvOvKgI9fM_z5KvkJ3fMNMHsxbXkRif3UOYZqC5xIVUH66X8I43yyQyAlCyn6fl-FZIYg_dsyqPHpT3iuZlZtDWfw9AiShiULPxwPPVmqD43Ttg/s792/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(8).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="783" data-original-width="792" height="632" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfckUoptV9mLJZB--SEvtbSpKPKnOi-5ViN0E8D3TICH8Puk3qKSqvzfcQIHFj73m3kLOH_-BLntDHvOvKgI9fM_z5KvkJ3fMNMHsxbXkRif3UOYZqC5xIVUH66X8I43yyQyAlCyn6fl-FZIYg_dsyqPHpT3iuZlZtDWfw9AiShiULPxwPPVmqD43Ttg/w640-h632/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(8).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Don Jesus Peralta thought he had matched his daughter to a wealthy man. But Sophia's new husband, Jose Ramon Carmen Maso, was in reality a professional gambler, and periodically down on his luck. And only after the wedding did Jose Maso discover his new wife's family estate was heavily mortgaged. This was why, in 1862, Jose Ramon planned a trip to Spain, in hopes of collecting some old gambling debts. He took with him his entire family, and his in-laws, even though Dona Sophia was pregnant.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfCTZ13y96EvWfnHDAiRpiDz5Je7YRzaS6IPzU359Ufhc3Zq_dTuDk2ujqmA4vYIHzew_Un-N26PJHueFE6eDFQ_JvFA_SY2SglsF476ZYI2IB4qzvgiX2bwo44Z-Rxsou35JJo9ac64wP/s1600/Baron++49.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfCTZ13y96EvWfnHDAiRpiDz5Je7YRzaS6IPzU359Ufhc3Zq_dTuDk2ujqmA4vYIHzew_Un-N26PJHueFE6eDFQ_JvFA_SY2SglsF476ZYI2IB4qzvgiX2bwo44Z-Rxsou35JJo9ac64wP/s400/Baron++49.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Their timing was very bad .The Great Flood of 1862 (which began in December of 1861) was devastating the western coast of North America from Oregon to Mexico. Directly in the family's path, the mountain road into San Diego was washed away in dozens of places, and the little town of Aqua Mansa, at the headwaters of the San Gabriel River, was destroyed. Only the alarm raised by the bell at the Mission of San Salvador de Jurupa prevented the loss of life there. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbcziA_nZmEQc4Y2gOK--0RNhHUbQhKwpVlGpcEqxpni6PPzEUq9F9N1hdzETidfUs0V4PJZdKB-iEmnYUm6HfEirmZuCX7_1G_ZpOvtrAd5X3auPl732KRKK53C9Hxi8O9BW-pEgGK1c0J8w8_3ILcDkwP3RLMThFMxErzT-oW2N7jqnQxaWHl_SmVw/s1180/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(4).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="855" data-original-width="1180" height="464" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbcziA_nZmEQc4Y2gOK--0RNhHUbQhKwpVlGpcEqxpni6PPzEUq9F9N1hdzETidfUs0V4PJZdKB-iEmnYUm6HfEirmZuCX7_1G_ZpOvtrAd5X3auPl732KRKK53C9Hxi8O9BW-pEgGK1c0J8w8_3ILcDkwP3RLMThFMxErzT-oW2N7jqnQxaWHl_SmVw/w640-h464/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(4).jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">And it was at the Mission, in February, that the flooding forced Jose Ramon and his party to pause, and where Dona Sophia went into premature labor and gave birth to twins, a boy and girl. The newborns were weak, as was Dona Sophia, so while the women stayed on in the churh, Jose Ramon and Don Miguel Peralta continued over the mountains to San Diego, where they caught ship, first for San Francisco, and then for Spain.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEF6iP_9r8c-XuwlY1fGWmQP0U33Fm6inD1D4mVbz_WTb6l14-hAjwBzSybaL9nXPF_Psh_T60jbYgUPO8LsyZJLc4dcoJvW_00Y2Rs-i1SCTD3MnKK0S_lpJfvr7VkPWsYmyPGvLiMipF/s1600/Baaron++69.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEF6iP_9r8c-XuwlY1fGWmQP0U33Fm6inD1D4mVbz_WTb6l14-hAjwBzSybaL9nXPF_Psh_T60jbYgUPO8LsyZJLc4dcoJvW_00Y2Rs-i1SCTD3MnKK0S_lpJfvr7VkPWsYmyPGvLiMipF/s400/Baaron++69.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The newborn boy soon died, followed by his mother Sophia. And the infant girl was not expected to live. And as there was little food in the region, both grandmothers then abandoned the sickly orphan and returned to Sonora. But the child did not die. She lived, cared for by a wet nurse hired by Mr. John A. Treadway, who was a friend of the gambler Jose Ramon. But Treadway died shortly thereafter on a business trip, and both Jose Ramon and Don Miguel died while in Spain. And the grandmothers also passed away on their way back to Sonora. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk1FPOTCC1vVSwAVACNGo9ZmWM3LZc42OGqADHwmfvCczSHfViIEN-iVd23Z2Ul_lOaCYJDEp7W7oOAk-W8HJuKUWBC7slwsnFJEhzNzvWYoQBXVJ6BKTiuWT2_ngvhrneVFN8g3-g6nvYZgRQ3zBzvl1GoFFhz5PvT-iNR9-CErG4JzQBpQ2YMeiApA/s640/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(8).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="474" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk1FPOTCC1vVSwAVACNGo9ZmWM3LZc42OGqADHwmfvCczSHfViIEN-iVd23Z2Ul_lOaCYJDEp7W7oOAk-W8HJuKUWBC7slwsnFJEhzNzvWYoQBXVJ6BKTiuWT2_ngvhrneVFN8g3-g6nvYZgRQ3zBzvl1GoFFhz5PvT-iNR9-CErG4JzQBpQ2YMeiApA/w474-h640/311671333_10228650823326088_914078157739278358_n%20(8).jpg" width="474" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">The abandoned child was raised by locals out of their loyalty to the departed Mr. Treadway. But everything about her family was forgotten, except her first name. Sophia was raised by local villagers until she was eight, when she was entrusted to a local businessman, John Snowball, who employed her first as servant and then as a cook in his roadhouse along the route between San Diego and Arizona.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCotiNcXZY2O4eUVjysoRud4pxZXpHculQ_J1KXgWWwQWfOyjnH5UuV5TafnwYpZM2EnAD65KQM20gNlSf989NfAcFw9ohTLCuLGw4xYVmQKg50JUcpLEWV-uym7Uuf74ROx11Mw3dWxmu/s1600/Baron++06.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCotiNcXZY2O4eUVjysoRud4pxZXpHculQ_J1KXgWWwQWfOyjnH5UuV5TafnwYpZM2EnAD65KQM20gNlSf989NfAcFw9ohTLCuLGw4xYVmQKg50JUcpLEWV-uym7Uuf74ROx11Mw3dWxmu/s400/Baron++06.jpg" width="315" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">Then, in 1877 a chance encounter on a train changed the orphan's girl's hard life. A well dressed gentleman with large whiskered sideburns approached the 17 year old and inquired about her background. The girl nervously admitted she was an orphan, and did not know her family name or history. The stranger suggested she might be the missing daughter of a wealthy family. She had never before heard the name he suggested: Peralta. The girl was uncertain whether to believe his story or not, but she wanted to believe it was possible.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk_Wayi2tK14pfN4aWdx5lsLAheH0GraymM-UBuTATkn-YSnaNUpAvdOY737zBbaGYH_Psvk4F0vWScy_JSXCRIZE8Q2nlgoTpmwN3ITfKfCCk4FMEW3Nn1CvLO7TKZv1RbBW-fC-Kya1a/s1600/Baron++02.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk_Wayi2tK14pfN4aWdx5lsLAheH0GraymM-UBuTATkn-YSnaNUpAvdOY737zBbaGYH_Psvk4F0vWScy_JSXCRIZE8Q2nlgoTpmwN3ITfKfCCk4FMEW3Nn1CvLO7TKZv1RbBW-fC-Kya1a/s400/Baron++02.jpg" width="561" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">But it was not. The entire story I have just shared with you, save for the storm of 1862, from the streets of Guadalajara, to the battered remains of a mission in the California desert, every word and document supporting it was based upon was the invention of the fevered imagination of one of the most determined and resourceful con men in American history. His name was James Addison Reavis (above). And at one time he came very close to owning most of the state of Arizona. And what follows is the true tale of how he almost did that. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgPirSnWsCOtrjv7OBLw6LDlxkOvs1CxlcWn473nPPrbJF5c5P91RrwcSbAzlEGzF_FWJyKAaAKk3HazbdJR-5YL86BTh9C-YitErn-NJymg3TVn9KVOkXE0jwxweK6EGOP66k44W1W4-_/s1600/Baron++04.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="483" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgPirSnWsCOtrjv7OBLw6LDlxkOvs1CxlcWn473nPPrbJF5c5P91RrwcSbAzlEGzF_FWJyKAaAKk3HazbdJR-5YL86BTh9C-YitErn-NJymg3TVn9KVOkXE0jwxweK6EGOP66k44W1W4-_/s400/Baron++04.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "times new roman"; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">- 30 -</span></span></div></div>Kimit Mustonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03809428003905885379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5034791890201777099.post-53970477868029912952024-02-29T09:00:00.005-05:002024-02-29T09:00:00.161-05:00THE FIRST DAY Chapter Nineteen<p> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYQ0zIt8lDIOoqZah6wvzXHMcyeoq_a-KOVtfGGtOdw9pkf7qTZTFXhYSc7Ze5eEBSOMXeq7K-3Yh6u2qMMVWpqjB22ktwOgk_Jo_Uq8bzhr9D7FPpjWA9xDM7eAksvlEf4Cx7Z5I9h8pC/s1600/First+++47.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYQ0zIt8lDIOoqZah6wvzXHMcyeoq_a-KOVtfGGtOdw9pkf7qTZTFXhYSc7Ze5eEBSOMXeq7K-3Yh6u2qMMVWpqjB22ktwOgk_Jo_Uq8bzhr9D7FPpjWA9xDM7eAksvlEf4Cx7Z5I9h8pC/s640/First+++47.jpg" width="533" /></a></p><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">I think the Army of the Potomac got very lucky that muggy Wednesday morning, 1 July, 1863. With the death of the brilliant Lieutenant General John Reynolds, command of all troops in and around Gettysburg dropped onto the pompous puritanical epaulets of the next ranking officer on the battlefield, Major General Oliver Otis Howard (above) . </span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeL-_J_AApvlIWLXCJZqkTi1T8nGk8xJvTCFlbRDQiJrW7runQ8-ZtWMRlyWEGx7eN-C3QN6tHFEm3nKKMoVsp80YfesSA4Q9GgBarFvD2lZbfLFGYdHaadTBN7bzohvnNNuMZ9FjywxTa/s1600/First+++01.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="370" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeL-_J_AApvlIWLXCJZqkTi1T8nGk8xJvTCFlbRDQiJrW7runQ8-ZtWMRlyWEGx7eN-C3QN6tHFEm3nKKMoVsp80YfesSA4Q9GgBarFvD2lZbfLFGYdHaadTBN7bzohvnNNuMZ9FjywxTa/s640/First+++01.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Known as “The Christian General”, at 32 years of age Howard was an arrogant, xenophobic religious bigot whose incompetence had smashed his own XIth Corps just 2 months earlier, at Chancellorsville (above) The Episcopalian Howard successfully scapegoated his own Lutheran emigrant soldiers for his own part in that disaster, and the joke in the rest of the army became - the “Dutchmen” who had once boasted “I fight mit Siegle” - their first commander – now chanted “I run mit Howard.” He called them cowards. And this was the man now in charge of the entire battle.</span></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRZKcNZxcC99htgVpLMfkTmI7_LACydN2PPE9X4NykCjC6Fbrzt-gqBYP_wlwhtF0NiZJZsHJXx-MdX2i8y-YjLMCLJt35lpf0pYK97rVvKEJTKF7LJlX2gvXTIA-Owomtqrkqhz7TWZ35/s1600/First+++29.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRZKcNZxcC99htgVpLMfkTmI7_LACydN2PPE9X4NykCjC6Fbrzt-gqBYP_wlwhtF0NiZJZsHJXx-MdX2i8y-YjLMCLJt35lpf0pYK97rVvKEJTKF7LJlX2gvXTIA-Owomtqrkqhz7TWZ35/s640/First+++29.jpg" width="560" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">But this was lucky for the the 9,000 German emigrants of the XI Corps, quick- marching up the Emmitsburg Road. Their immediate command now passed to one of the most amazing men tossed up by the American Civil War – the be-speckled and thoughtful firebrand, Major General Carl Shurz (above). During the revolutionary year of 1848, the teenage Schurz was chased out of his home in the German Kingdom of Hanover. He snuck back into Prussian controlled Germany to </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">break his teacher out of Berlin's Spandau prison. Together they then escaped to Austria. Then Carl moved on to France, then to Britain, and in 1852 to America. He brought to his new country a hatred of slavery, a devotion to civic responsibility and the idea of “Kintergarden” for all children. At about 11:30 that morning of 1 July, 1863, on Cemetery Hill, 70 feet above Gettysburg, Shurz got his orders from the pompous and pugnacious General Howard.</span></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4f6iVNFXl0FXewPzqDvps8ZhEvD0V-yySLekoM7L7hkURHWDggxNtqKAOar7ncj-cjB4oRPadIIaKmoAmWAfbJr4TYe41e0xzOrQz-CHyDv1tAfM_zs_0tn6FrhOn9f-vtxct_cctts1B/s1600/First+++06.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="489" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4f6iVNFXl0FXewPzqDvps8ZhEvD0V-yySLekoM7L7hkURHWDggxNtqKAOar7ncj-cjB4oRPadIIaKmoAmWAfbJr4TYe41e0xzOrQz-CHyDv1tAfM_zs_0tn6FrhOn9f-vtxct_cctts1B/s640/First+++06.png" width="640" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">The Federal I Corps, fighting under 41 year old Major General John Newton, seemed to be containing Heth's 5,000 man rebel division along McPherson's Ridge – for now (above). But the rebels were reported moving toward the open right flank, along the Mummesburg road. Howard ordered Shurz to occupy the 600 foot high Oak Hill with the 3,000 men of Shurz's own 3rd.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"> division, now commanded by fellow German born revolutionary 38 year old Brigadier General Alexander Schimmelfennig. He also ordered the 2,400 men of the 1</span><sup><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">st</span></sup><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"> Division under 28 year old New York born baby-faced Brigadier General Francis Channing Barlow to “...connect with the Third Division” at Oak Hill, and guard the Carlisle Road due north of Gettysburg.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzRgZglOlwENj-6a65up0OT4OInzyruSnnOpt5oTyFJoG1ZWlIJKe1C2xsnexC18PapZn3zv5Ez1fueDwp_IDbsXK1aM2BSDhITTM6eeiuknzQSQ16FactIGfBKN_nCwmaCq1Tg5BcIW6U/s1600/First+++07.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzRgZglOlwENj-6a65up0OT4OInzyruSnnOpt5oTyFJoG1ZWlIJKe1C2xsnexC18PapZn3zv5Ez1fueDwp_IDbsXK1aM2BSDhITTM6eeiuknzQSQ16FactIGfBKN_nCwmaCq1Tg5BcIW6U/s640/First+++07.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Major General Schurz immediately rode to scout his new position on Oak Hill. He found it loomed over the Mummesburg Road and was perfect for artillery (above). </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis3qBk90R631bHrKZNJQ4v_bq_L1ie3QgBL_C6cy4pkwnyk5ZQFWuxyFr_UKn_uguvYbRH8urS4dOn3Xw9z97RFTdFMRWofPFKa-UJVpsoFWVKzzIJ5pONq_nV_cbXqtus6UATpHgUSECG/s1600/First+++12.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="470" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis3qBk90R631bHrKZNJQ4v_bq_L1ie3QgBL_C6cy4pkwnyk5ZQFWuxyFr_UKn_uguvYbRH8urS4dOn3Xw9z97RFTdFMRWofPFKa-UJVpsoFWVKzzIJ5pONq_nV_cbXqtus6UATpHgUSECG/s640/First+++12.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Unfortunately, while he was gone, Howard ordered the Corps artillery reserve and the remaining troops - the 2,700 men of the 2</span><sup><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">nd</span></sup><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"> Division under General Adolph von Steoinwehr - to remain atop Cemetery Hill (above), in reserve. From there they would secure the vital hill, but could offer no support to the rest of the XI Corps. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifiZtiKhsfXHPGTp4a0iGWFGnL3xbXsNSehyphenhyphennMaPva3N0fXfADMOguIEu5EqOr0Pe2zbAwXWcIChhnD7LNu1iGwR0j5nfWOqfVlJlmDNIxkN4oCUqeoG1uzhqgCo8oSqecE2cm30Dql-Kb/s1600/First+++27.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifiZtiKhsfXHPGTp4a0iGWFGnL3xbXsNSehyphenhyphennMaPva3N0fXfADMOguIEu5EqOr0Pe2zbAwXWcIChhnD7LNu1iGwR0j5nfWOqfVlJlmDNIxkN4oCUqeoG1uzhqgCo8oSqecE2cm30Dql-Kb/s640/First+++27.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Worse, Shimmelfennig's men did not reach the outskirts of Gettysburg until half passed noon. Their forced march had left them weary, but Shurz immediately led them through town and west on the Mummesburg Road, over Oak Ridge – the northern extension of Seminary Ridge - toward Oak Hill. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4S8fbuP2XAukFEil9ciNTX1t1qtH9GX35cTzb-jGfxLUKkehcKW4CbvRbEwD5Gyr8UovS8Qdwd2boqOlY5IR6Ye8-Ka4R6DSExBUfEucsMG6npIpc2yct3x0ga8NzTXkFSiNDNf-TqAc4/s1600/First+++05.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="479" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4S8fbuP2XAukFEil9ciNTX1t1qtH9GX35cTzb-jGfxLUKkehcKW4CbvRbEwD5Gyr8UovS8Qdwd2boqOlY5IR6Ye8-Ka4R6DSExBUfEucsMG6npIpc2yct3x0ga8NzTXkFSiNDNf-TqAc4/s640/First+++05.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">But just after 1:00 p.m. Shurz was surprised to find Confederate artillery and infantry already atop Oak Hill (above) and digging in.</span></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOhyQo8W6DIwMYORBeuWIG3OKIuvVOEdbKEFNiuvdlV2U87OcgtWOBPN7A8czKj9HrkqEuPCF-_uwlKTuxjdZ2n-0iQQj5r4OPBRi3UjWjKYVftk9uKPMTIoFJWgx1stEUDMCyn5GXiZMe/s1600/First+++02.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="454" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOhyQo8W6DIwMYORBeuWIG3OKIuvVOEdbKEFNiuvdlV2U87OcgtWOBPN7A8czKj9HrkqEuPCF-_uwlKTuxjdZ2n-0iQQj5r4OPBRi3UjWjKYVftk9uKPMTIoFJWgx1stEUDMCyn5GXiZMe/s640/First+++02.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">The 7,900 men under rebel Major General Robert Emmet Rodes (above) were the advance of Lieutenant General Ewell's III Corps. And by 12:30 p.m., with the 5,000 men of Heth's division south of the Chambersburg Pike, the rebels had 12,000 men on the field, giving them a slight advantage against 10, 000 federal troops on or soon to be on the front line - not counting the XI Corps reserve. And scouts from Colonel Devin's cavalry brigade reported the 5,000 men of Early's division coming down the Carlisle Road. They were expected to reach the battlefield by mid-afternoon. The Army of Northern Virginia was about to repeat by accident their brilliant flank attack at Chancellorsville. Sensing this, Shurz pulled Schimmelfennig's division back to Oak Ridge, and had them dig in. This forced Newton's I Corps, to pull back and dig in a new main line along Seminary Ridge. And Shurz instructed Brigadier General Barlow to extend Shimmelfennig's right flank across the Carlisle road with his 2,400 man division. Everything had to happen in a rush.</span></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvQZGg503SFaywGzlYaflC-QyNRYZZmrZMZ-0koKRSV3dB_OY5cBNvTENTqacqjyHXoDHEOyHEzxT5qss2ltypdipwJyzCcFvtLcy4khkp6ndj9eFg5iUWISoJB6w56b2IGWF4OnsUy25e/s1600/First+++24.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvQZGg503SFaywGzlYaflC-QyNRYZZmrZMZ-0koKRSV3dB_OY5cBNvTENTqacqjyHXoDHEOyHEzxT5qss2ltypdipwJyzCcFvtLcy4khkp6ndj9eFg5iUWISoJB6w56b2IGWF4OnsUy25e/s400/First+++24.jpg" width="325" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Not long after 1:00 p.m. Henry Heth finally threw his strength at McPherson's ridge south of the Chambersburg Pike – The 2,500 man brigade of Brigadier General James Pettigrew (above), along with the remnants of Archer and Davis' brigades. Pettigrew's attack found McPherson's Ridge weakly defended, and continued on up Seminary Ridge, where they ran into the new Federal line. Rushing to join the assault, Major General Rode's hastily threw Brigadier General Alfried Iverson's 1,300 man North Carolina brigade against Oak Ridge. All rebel attacks were thrown back with heavy causalities, in particular Iverson's assault. </span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuihZejSRQMJxKjZ6XU4m2rIMj8D9ZwY0pW3jnJ-0y7MwlYmfvgtSQawFI8tXGoaSznqKAVH9vpPa2BNiYAaP1NYotzWKn7EM67MKNot-e0K8LnosOX-GA9WuP6BE31LnG_Q07Qd8k0r8A/s1600/First+++59.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuihZejSRQMJxKjZ6XU4m2rIMj8D9ZwY0pW3jnJ-0y7MwlYmfvgtSQawFI8tXGoaSznqKAVH9vpPa2BNiYAaP1NYotzWKn7EM67MKNot-e0K8LnosOX-GA9WuP6BE31LnG_Q07Qd8k0r8A/s640/First+++59.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Captain Lewis Hicks, related the destruction of his 20th North Carolina regiment. "</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">We carried three hundred in(to) action." A Federal regiment opened fire on the their flank and 15 minutes later most of the regiment surrendered, with just 62 men returning to rebel lines. Wrote Hicks, "In the absence </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">of white flags the wounded men hoisted their boots and hats on their bayonets to show their desperation. The firing continued about ten minutes, our firing ceased and the Federals moved on us to effect our capture".</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"> .</span></div></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc5Yx3w0CgCvM-BBdeWFO5mo_cZOb3ukWcWFAof2aDa6d8-RfmJHCTm3s7W18EDMI4_GNyETWgy4T8aynB76G_IEfU-MiFPuLuHdc_WFh9lEr7k0jdFc1RV65S4JesAkuwcHLCv1s747UC/s1600/First+++39.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="464" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc5Yx3w0CgCvM-BBdeWFO5mo_cZOb3ukWcWFAof2aDa6d8-RfmJHCTm3s7W18EDMI4_GNyETWgy4T8aynB76G_IEfU-MiFPuLuHdc_WFh9lEr7k0jdFc1RV65S4JesAkuwcHLCv1s747UC/s640/First+++39.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Lieutenant General A.P. Hill and Lieutenant General Richard Ewell immediately began preparing to launch a second assault, including now Early's division, which was just arriving on the Carlisle Road. And while they were putting together the elements of the assault – just after 2:00 p.m. - their boss, General Robert Edward Lee (above), commander of the Army of Northern Virginia, finally arrived via the Chambersburg road. He was at first infuriated – or as infuriated as he allowed himself to be in public. He reminded General Heth of his order to avoid engagement. And then he dropped the issue, in part – probably – because there was a battle in progress and things were changing quickly, and in part because he knew he would have probably done the same thing, Heth had done. It was one of the reasons Heth was one of his favorites.</span></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6kV1xpLVcJibKgebvFzo26t6kX53xBWPd2Pc5opDXH-3OoQKvS8lgV-vOIQd2O3xARJ1KL-fsyyzXQ5GOIaWF5fX2IJln4t0piH9oxrU6i3qBslpytUWaiMDJw9TRXS5QEj3g8PqIt_vz/s1600/First+++13.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6kV1xpLVcJibKgebvFzo26t6kX53xBWPd2Pc5opDXH-3OoQKvS8lgV-vOIQd2O3xARJ1KL-fsyyzXQ5GOIaWF5fX2IJln4t0piH9oxrU6i3qBslpytUWaiMDJw9TRXS5QEj3g8PqIt_vz/s640/First+++13.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">On 30 June, Ewell's Corps, and in particular Jubal Early's division, were vulnerable to being cut off. Pushing into Gettysburg on 1 July would put Heth's division 10 miles closer – half a day's march - to welcoming those men safely back into the fold. And finding Federal infantry in Gettysburg, between Early's 5,000 men and the rest of the army, was all the more reason to push the Federals out. Lee understood that. And in any case the battle Heth had brought on, was going Lee's way. Lee approved a general assault as soon as the troops were ready.</span></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx_sStOxkK2B8E3nXl6SI7rpvz4ipNUMXoUz-0GAwKSxitJQ1rnB5pDdSloxWUT3dTXbA_sX3_CcDH2igrsuRGZ7kUrUw8SNdJYyQR8EIX6BVsCeec9PzVNQ2GtEGf9hF87ggNuBeuN0zT/s1600/First+++27.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx_sStOxkK2B8E3nXl6SI7rpvz4ipNUMXoUz-0GAwKSxitJQ1rnB5pDdSloxWUT3dTXbA_sX3_CcDH2igrsuRGZ7kUrUw8SNdJYyQR8EIX6BVsCeec9PzVNQ2GtEGf9hF87ggNuBeuN0zT/s640/First+++27.jpg" width="452" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Francis Barlow (above) and his division arrived via the Emmitsburg Road about an hour before Lee's arrival, and by 2:00 p.m. He had put his men into the battle line defending Shimmellfiinig's right flank, and blocking the Carlisle Road. But the baby faced Barlow was no less a religious bigot than Howard and vented in letters his contempt for the “beery and impenetrable Germans”. He carried a cavalry sword (above), which he used to beat the backs of stragglers on the march and in battle. Said a subordinate later, "</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">He looked like a highly independent minded newsboy...his features wore a familiar sarcastic smile…”</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5xOe1oay3NDulGgzPk8cWSrpA0uCzKROjh3c8xuIXvV38giCZqGbT8Dmfb-o3vFaSOxmI-V_CcE_ehmHZvtRgeUNgP8Nk7egJiHIc5TgENdl3DXkRZjeHkKVVtn4MR3cqsCYLcJ6lakGN/s1600/First+++08.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5xOe1oay3NDulGgzPk8cWSrpA0uCzKROjh3c8xuIXvV38giCZqGbT8Dmfb-o3vFaSOxmI-V_CcE_ehmHZvtRgeUNgP8Nk7egJiHIc5TgENdl3DXkRZjeHkKVVtn4MR3cqsCYLcJ6lakGN/s400/First+++08.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">The action along McPherson (above) and Oak ridges left the Harvard graduate free to make his own decision. Which was usually dangerous for his soldiers.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-a9SdS_412mpePzsVFRhismDq9BahR1Gaop8h63tkqtIjhxXbK2jyBKA58trioru8TfHfVURKQhGLu8pAeDp8suTkuKRibedIDrH82taAaK36TniiQeYutnCK51f9gEQAHmNuuEZOhcoK/s1600/First+++10.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="456" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-a9SdS_412mpePzsVFRhismDq9BahR1Gaop8h63tkqtIjhxXbK2jyBKA58trioru8TfHfVURKQhGLu8pAeDp8suTkuKRibedIDrH82taAaK36TniiQeYutnCK51f9gEQAHmNuuEZOhcoK/s640/First+++10.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">With cavalry warning of Early's advance, Barlow decided to push </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: small;">the 1,100 men under Brigadier General Leopold von Gilsa, and the </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">1,337 men of Brigadier.General Adelbert Ames, </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">700 yards forward of the line he had been assigned (above) - into the vertex of a nut cracker, atop a low broad mound known as Blocher's Knoll. And in doing so he disconnected them from the Federal line on Oak Ridge.</span></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAB818EcokJHgxyDkRaByztijC1qvfv-iElwejEUiKEJvHMIXGrhoSb2w8BGh-BIqaBpina_Ew7uHSkARI3fHQdMjcnXCo5-93Qyro6jQ0NQ4pHwFx0oj-dnwxVBGRafFHvSrILs9w-gRq/s1600/FIrst+++09.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="388" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAB818EcokJHgxyDkRaByztijC1qvfv-iElwejEUiKEJvHMIXGrhoSb2w8BGh-BIqaBpina_Ew7uHSkARI3fHQdMjcnXCo5-93Qyro6jQ0NQ4pHwFx0oj-dnwxVBGRafFHvSrILs9w-gRq/s640/FIrst+++09.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">At about 3:00 p.m. Pettigrew's brigade launched an assault against Seminary Ridge while Rodes sent his division at Oak Ridge. The Federal line held again. But then, about 4:00 p.m. Brigadier General John Gordon added his 1,800 man brigade, alongside Brigadier General Henry Hay's and </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Colonel Isaac Avery's brigades</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"> of 1,000 men each, and Colonel Eugene Waggaman's 1,000 Louisiana Tigers - all attacking Barlow's Mound (above), from 2 sides at once. Boy-faced Barlow would later insist his Germans broke and ran. But the man doing the attacking, General Gordon, later wrote, </span>“<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">The enemy made a most obstinate resistance until the colors of the two lines were separated by a space of less than 50 paces, when his line was broken and driven back,..."</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"> </span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMnRVKLHnnMcZH2wkW6x15_jWmO1hvm3n9TR4l8wzrhtugfd3hxqZv-6hqwPbmrs1mrr0uCtQCGSGrPG_W6YTCfuDS_829Nd-JTKCUvPXth85oxPGrnDRJ_GrA7BTnun6By5-TFdEiNFcd/s1600/First+++40.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMnRVKLHnnMcZH2wkW6x15_jWmO1hvm3n9TR4l8wzrhtugfd3hxqZv-6hqwPbmrs1mrr0uCtQCGSGrPG_W6YTCfuDS_829Nd-JTKCUvPXth85oxPGrnDRJ_GrA7BTnun6By5-TFdEiNFcd/s640/First+++40.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">General Barlow himself was badly wounded, and 2 of his despised Germans tried to carry their commander from the field. The sarcastic newsboy wrote later, with no sense of irony, "</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">One of them was soon shot and fell. . I then got a spent ball in my back which has made quite a bruise. Soon I got too faint to go any further and lay down. I lay in the midst of the fire some five minutes...A ball went through my hat as I lay on the ground and another just grazed the forefinger of my right hand.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"> " Barlow would be captured and would eventually be exchanged, to fight again.. </span></div></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj11twoEGLKc2wZZlZoJog57Dr_Ipf8Y1XYbSdR9Aj5GYII1eCT-clZZk1XCzsKECN40WyRUu0qxJSuGFPp5Kkxouvno-kFcPPkmXgVtBScoAPX_a9yEHfD4yZ0A7oVzw91HhWskUHrCN3t/s1600/First+++11.gif" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="498" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj11twoEGLKc2wZZlZoJog57Dr_Ipf8Y1XYbSdR9Aj5GYII1eCT-clZZk1XCzsKECN40WyRUu0qxJSuGFPp5Kkxouvno-kFcPPkmXgVtBScoAPX_a9yEHfD4yZ0A7oVzw91HhWskUHrCN3t/s640/First+++11.gif" width="640" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Then, about 4:00 p.m. the Federal battle line began to peel away from Seminary Ridge. The battered First Corps made a fighting withdrawal, across the valley, to Cemetery Ridge. As they did the XI Corp did the same, having suffered 50% causalities. Still they became known as "The Flying Dutchmen". There was panic in the streets of Gettysburg, but its size has been overrated. A brigade of the </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">von Steoinwehr's division went forward to cover the retreat at a place in Gettysburg called the brickyard. After blunting the rebels in downtown Gettysburg, and Steoinwher's regiments pulled back to defend the northern tip of Cemetery Hill, and next to it Culp's Hill. But the situation on the Federal side had changed,</span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjVRi8QWKamYh9me5KSBeQkxjMPpAmdBQ8yoM9ZRiNJQQC9WlweUQpIVHD1u7Y0DUJ8ACI-7GdgENw97ZQSZOpAwmB0cx_UFRc3rD-lGlO1rMQ8ZjONEH9aPFnWAbpIxYtRp6ARwvtMoGz/s1600/First+++01.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjVRi8QWKamYh9me5KSBeQkxjMPpAmdBQ8yoM9ZRiNJQQC9WlweUQpIVHD1u7Y0DUJ8ACI-7GdgENw97ZQSZOpAwmB0cx_UFRc3rD-lGlO1rMQ8ZjONEH9aPFnWAbpIxYtRp6ARwvtMoGz/s640/First+++01.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">At about 3:00 p.m., just about the same time the rebels were launching their assault on Seminary Ridge, 39 year old Major General Winfield Scott Hancock arrived on Cemetery Hill, empowered to take command of the battlefield. </span></div></div></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGXqsN2-5CvAV1Gr0yVcV-Eoe7Yfdzun5TOiP7mmEO2Zdwt0QESU1DeC_TAcg6oYZ7L_s7BKhevFRhvzmORAT3cy4rKUAuEueKNETPaP7WSNEgDOgx0OG-Qi74PqXnb1GV5dyuWJeK3Xb_/s1600/First+++04.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGXqsN2-5CvAV1Gr0yVcV-Eoe7Yfdzun5TOiP7mmEO2Zdwt0QESU1DeC_TAcg6oYZ7L_s7BKhevFRhvzmORAT3cy4rKUAuEueKNETPaP7WSNEgDOgx0OG-Qi74PqXnb1GV5dyuWJeK3Xb_/s640/First+++04.jpg" width="550" /></a></div><div>Immediately upon receiving word from Howard - about noon - that he had assumed command at Gettysburg, General Gordon Meade, commander of the Army of the Potomac, had dispatched Hancock to Gettysburg with orders to replace the bigot from Maine. And now, over Howard's objections, Hancock did just that, inspiring the exhausted men in blue.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhE_A92FOrzkm10sDP-BiQaPxaTZ8wrM5GaZEsEyDAN0k0oV5sLCK-uChdbBIz6tuttJBH3Ae2d34vGSiHaHs3d-FqIM4ocCK3DrZ4QieGVDastdQ_Cqd_Fq-Y_1GdbijKRjN8Pa7FNPCx/s1600/First+++01.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="419" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhE_A92FOrzkm10sDP-BiQaPxaTZ8wrM5GaZEsEyDAN0k0oV5sLCK-uChdbBIz6tuttJBH3Ae2d34vGSiHaHs3d-FqIM4ocCK3DrZ4QieGVDastdQ_Cqd_Fq-Y_1GdbijKRjN8Pa7FNPCx/s640/First+++01.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div>Perhaps the most important order that Hancock issued that evening, at about 5:00 p.m., was to send exhausted the remnants of the I corps to the left, to occupy the 180 foot high Culp's hill.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioUWsBSBp7FwQhEikOJmQCqf4BUU5xrYnU7JjlBL5BSq1shC-7eOkYBH5ac7Jcdk3LsdSJ0nxgM-qPnLirau8jRJQqS0dheYGQ9iL88EyzIP_cYFWdPKZxrv_M0MzhuTHtnODYSoR-Eu6n/s1600/First+++05.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioUWsBSBp7FwQhEikOJmQCqf4BUU5xrYnU7JjlBL5BSq1shC-7eOkYBH5ac7Jcdk3LsdSJ0nxgM-qPnLirau8jRJQqS0dheYGQ9iL88EyzIP_cYFWdPKZxrv_M0MzhuTHtnODYSoR-Eu6n/s400/First+++05.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Culp's Hill is the tallest position above Gettysburg, overlooking Cemetery Hill and Ridge by 100 feet. A "hollow" or saddle connects it to the 70 foot high Cemetery Hill. And as dusk settled over the weary survivors at Gettysburg, the key to the coming battle shifted to these two rocky mounts.</span></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUTq09eWYCQCXILtQVUoirxcQTz8s6K3X03hzYegh2cLODJeYzMKKLycUXn9mEV-baaodaUXojvipIIRplMnu8jWCXlCKADj-oK_riPFn2jkeXV024EmpW_sX6oLisR8HUCnCoKM2DerpH/s1600/First+++02.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUTq09eWYCQCXILtQVUoirxcQTz8s6K3X03hzYegh2cLODJeYzMKKLycUXn9mEV-baaodaUXojvipIIRplMnu8jWCXlCKADj-oK_riPFn2jkeXV024EmpW_sX6oLisR8HUCnCoKM2DerpH/s640/First+++02.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">- 30 -</span></span></div></div></div></div></div>Kimit Mustonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03809428003905885379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5034791890201777099.post-25876579352569992622024-02-28T09:00:00.013-05:002024-02-28T09:00:00.165-05:00THE FIRST DAY Chapter Eighteen<p> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzlLkkMr9fi8fkO41xFwsv8G9LGXfLKxT3A-TC3mRZulhv6EEYt2IPla8Qxv8gukD3HUfKs-96XErzMQIKMm-D9jEmUvSGdpN56PDZ2cIrU3fujh3PhpwqynkDrpvxeCWsiDqlGH_1cpEp/s1600/First+++60.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="314" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzlLkkMr9fi8fkO41xFwsv8G9LGXfLKxT3A-TC3mRZulhv6EEYt2IPla8Qxv8gukD3HUfKs-96XErzMQIKMm-D9jEmUvSGdpN56PDZ2cIrU3fujh3PhpwqynkDrpvxeCWsiDqlGH_1cpEp/w640-h314/First+++60.jpg" width="640" /></a></p><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">I don't know who 33 year old Virginian Colonel Robert Mercer Brockenbrough pissed off, but they must have been important. The farmer and lawyer been twice bumped up to </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">brigade commander, the last time just before </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Chancellorsville,</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"> after his boss, Henry Heth, was promoted to Division commander. </span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiULej6dUqdHNXW0PNcf5NWrP0N3kMMGEm_8zBdC5Rq8bAzH989J0TtidvklGJCCS0twEOI-nR-3AhXy1gNlItGrJzDCD0kLPwmdmAnXJtLU7zBXYN6RoShJDd2D-cJkAgmFkkH1LDUCiJfheCYR6yAd64MXQll84k43-M-UprPjBJ3o8rAqR5jVRj0Xx5f/s142/352189368_255770620471395_865761635365399322_n%20(2).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="142" data-original-width="110" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiULej6dUqdHNXW0PNcf5NWrP0N3kMMGEm_8zBdC5Rq8bAzH989J0TtidvklGJCCS0twEOI-nR-3AhXy1gNlItGrJzDCD0kLPwmdmAnXJtLU7zBXYN6RoShJDd2D-cJkAgmFkkH1LDUCiJfheCYR6yAd64MXQll84k43-M-UprPjBJ3o8rAqR5jVRj0Xx5f/w496-h640/352189368_255770620471395_865761635365399322_n%20(2).jpg" width="496" /></a></div></div><div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Then, </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Brockenbrough's brigade took 50% casualties stopping a Federal counterattack, saving the victory for General Lee. And still Lee refused to consider Brockenbrough (above) for permanent promotion. The insult sapped the spirit out of Brockenbrough and seeped down to the 800 survivors in his brigade - all of which contributed in no small way to Lee's defeat at Gettysburg.</span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtcRZG87E0mIhfWBiVwX3Cf_2HPjbVNR1BlMZw-6WwZPVIcb1DWSul0km7A82lyOTaO5rCDQnhT8Vq41rVAaad7omrtk1ZylBt7_I4Rh8MCyUCTBcbXYrYbOiBbj2ngaAENLvjGHXPDTw4/s1600/First+++05.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="612" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtcRZG87E0mIhfWBiVwX3Cf_2HPjbVNR1BlMZw-6WwZPVIcb1DWSul0km7A82lyOTaO5rCDQnhT8Vq41rVAaad7omrtk1ZylBt7_I4Rh8MCyUCTBcbXYrYbOiBbj2ngaAENLvjGHXPDTw4/s640/First+++05.png" width="640" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">While Archer's brigade of 1,200 men charged up Herr's Ridge north of the Chambersburg Pike, and then threw itself across Willoughby Run and up McPherson's ridge, Brigadier General Davis's brigade was doing the same south of the pike. But Davis noted that Brockenbrough's brigade, between the two “...refused to advance." Many maps of the battle (above) don't even bother to include them. And when the Federal Iron Brigade smashed into Archer's men and drove them back across the creek, Brockenborough's troops refused to fire on the Federals, pleading they feared hitting Archer's men. Even then, the dispirited Virginians might have charged the Federals to save the 200 of Archer's men forced to surrender. Instead they watched it happen. And soon the same fate was was to befall Davis' brigade.</span></div></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6AkDPA-Mr4JGxyISncZXNkM05gPfZRhPMzq6_Islsx2ki5sf1tc-EmMoyw3YynkqDS4oZaSznoK6WaDK7r-_7nvU04iJoXFpVjE3WJMZUyZN0Pkuc44Z_AZJ9wAEmJckC9mnqnNxHWYDc/s1600/First+++41.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6AkDPA-Mr4JGxyISncZXNkM05gPfZRhPMzq6_Islsx2ki5sf1tc-EmMoyw3YynkqDS4oZaSznoK6WaDK7r-_7nvU04iJoXFpVjE3WJMZUyZN0Pkuc44Z_AZJ9wAEmJckC9mnqnNxHWYDc/s400/First+++41.jpg" width="286" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">The 38 year old Joseph Robert Davis (above) was a nephew of Confederate President Jefferson Davis. That linage granted him certain disadvantages. His uncle's enemies initially denied his promotion as Brigadier General. But once promoted, Davis was, by all accounts, competent. And driving the Federal cavalry skirmishers back across Willoughby Run, he was quick to take advantage of the ground, specifically the unfinished railroad cut through McPherson's ridge. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV9vYvLE7p3yER1xE8Ckt10mVU5IWbjUdUzE0peBPMPITnLQls_RvD-SzkbEhNaBPeR9rnz0I7edh8jW9ZeY4zZ-nJVp8Heg_Wmne1klkke5BB3WPa4NjZIyUjASwTMMTa4dxBbOSh3rcg/s1600/First+++02.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="506" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV9vYvLE7p3yER1xE8Ckt10mVU5IWbjUdUzE0peBPMPITnLQls_RvD-SzkbEhNaBPeR9rnz0I7edh8jW9ZeY4zZ-nJVp8Heg_Wmne1klkke5BB3WPa4NjZIyUjASwTMMTa4dxBbOSh3rcg/s640/First+++02.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">There were no iron rails or cross ties laid down yet. But using the cover provided by the earthen embankments, Davis pivoted his 2,000 North Carolina and Mississippi soldiers, and they hit this portion of the Iron Brigade on the flank, across the Chambersburg Pike.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_N5e4inA2hTR7fqudkNzWXlmXU1TAxcSzFpLBJbPRhV2o4aZbUjrl3hQ0KMih6I2tvc2NLLf3e-ipGyXpbzcxEMdcm3977YAQnViWnLmAiEEjscN72Oxh54q-SXAif51hQeSrzE6Uay7M/s1600/First+++47.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_N5e4inA2hTR7fqudkNzWXlmXU1TAxcSzFpLBJbPRhV2o4aZbUjrl3hQ0KMih6I2tvc2NLLf3e-ipGyXpbzcxEMdcm3977YAQnViWnLmAiEEjscN72Oxh54q-SXAif51hQeSrzE6Uay7M/s400/First+++47.jpg" width="217" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Rushing to the defense of their brigade members, was the reserve of the Iron Brigade, the 6</span><sup><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">th</span></sup><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"> Wisconsin regiment and a battery of cannon. And once in position their commander, Lieutenant Colonel Rufus Robertson Dawes (above), grandson of William Dawes who had spread the alarm with Paul Revere, gave the order to open fire.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiITn2xFRxe9-yLeZC1g-rDQbleIujaz1cX4pJSeIHFwzYCMCOne1_tDBcjPwqEIhCjyw2OpmIUgNB1EIFeijjTt-6yeiFc3PokG5A6aBharl_zY4yZ11ujzNW2Q3BJqm0EVbbPZFtBGudz/s1600/First+++40.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="405" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiITn2xFRxe9-yLeZC1g-rDQbleIujaz1cX4pJSeIHFwzYCMCOne1_tDBcjPwqEIhCjyw2OpmIUgNB1EIFeijjTt-6yeiFc3PokG5A6aBharl_zY4yZ11ujzNW2Q3BJqm0EVbbPZFtBGudz/w640-h405/First+++40.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Under the first volley said Dawes, “The rebel line swayed and bent, and suddenly stopped.” Sargent William Ray remembered, the Wisconsin boys, “just mowed the rebs, all in front of our Regiment was just mowed down. … Battery B was just in the rear of us... and every gun poured in the grape which swept the rebs.”</span></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKq88gmjZvL_8OigqgO-Ms5iWrHMtMjuwgl6ozXvOyDanpUjFOpEiSKkYO5ndYE-HO4ukDU7kKYbf2HuWeVdV4_MeZrMz4_YUnD6v_l5guk_hqNlG4LuYr0IrjNSVArveDxyau8mP0m6mY/s1600/First+++38.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="384" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKq88gmjZvL_8OigqgO-Ms5iWrHMtMjuwgl6ozXvOyDanpUjFOpEiSKkYO5ndYE-HO4ukDU7kKYbf2HuWeVdV4_MeZrMz4_YUnD6v_l5guk_hqNlG4LuYr0IrjNSVArveDxyau8mP0m6mY/w640-h384/First+++38.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Slowly the rebels began to retreat, toward the protection of the railroad cut. Dawes then, “ordered my men to climb the over the turnpike fences and advance." And just as the Wisconsin boys were clambering over the rails, the 95</span><sup><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">th</span></sup><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"> New York regiment of the 2</span><sup><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">nd</span></sup><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"> brigade under Major Edward Pye, came up to the fence line in support. Colonel Dawes shouted to Pye, “We must charge!” And Pye replied, “Charge it is!” And with that, the 2 regiments began screaming and running across 400 yards toward the railroad cut with fixed bayonets.</span></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZOc7Fv-bePSOCeLmsEUCuJHzVUiVesTeNy6BG-s3em_pcOULlyH5JbA1oZZllm-A8zoqJ1vRJ_jCSRs0G_CeOQ-g06yLHr91TbF_0Re4opsHzSefkpu81P9sF6Ed0Aw9obpD8n-kU41R_/s1600/First+++50.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="544" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZOc7Fv-bePSOCeLmsEUCuJHzVUiVesTeNy6BG-s3em_pcOULlyH5JbA1oZZllm-A8zoqJ1vRJ_jCSRs0G_CeOQ-g06yLHr91TbF_0Re4opsHzSefkpu81P9sF6Ed0Aw9obpD8n-kU41R_/s640/First+++50.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">From the shelter of the railroad cut three confederate regiments – the 2</span><sup style="font-family: "times new roman", serif;">nd</sup><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"> and 42</span><sup style="font-family: "times new roman", serif;">nd</sup><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"> Mississippi and the 55</span><sup style="font-family: "times new roman", serif;">th</sup><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"> North Carolina, poured a deadly fire into the 2 attacking federal regiments. Colonel Dawes wrote his wife, </span><span>"</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">The only commands I gave as we advanced were, 'Align on the colors! Close up on the colors! </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman", serif;">Corporal James Kelley of Company B, shot through the breast...said, "Colonel, won't you write to my folks that I died a soldier?" Dawes added in his memoir: "..The colors fell upon the ground several times but were raised again by the heroes of the color guard. Four hundred and twenty men started in the regiment from the turnpike fence, of whom about two hundred and forty reached the railroad cut." The collision when it came, was unimaginable.</span></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdSEhKUAfZB5ciHAZ2y3qJJ47EhdlVWNiME8HCBYgkNgwMiidEgH7y5thJnctbwCD-w1T5SVAyMWeCDOAo2a-DbR1GYjyg29U5uQiVG8YSk1uTrT7siRQzyL4fjljaHgafAVFdruaEz568/s1600/First+++30.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdSEhKUAfZB5ciHAZ2y3qJJ47EhdlVWNiME8HCBYgkNgwMiidEgH7y5thJnctbwCD-w1T5SVAyMWeCDOAo2a-DbR1GYjyg29U5uQiVG8YSk1uTrT7siRQzyL4fjljaHgafAVFdruaEz568/s640/First+++30.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Recalled Sargent William B. Murphy, the 2</span><sup><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">nd</span></sup><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"> Mississippi regiment standard bearer, “...a squad of soldiers made a rush for my colors...Over a dozen men fell killed or wounded, and then a large man made a rush for me and the flag.” The large fellow was Corporal Francis (Frank) Ashbury Waller, from Company I of the 6</span><sup><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">th</span></sup><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"> Wisconsin. Said Murphy, “As I tore the flag from the staff, he took hold of me and the color.” Waller and Murphy struggled over the cloth (above), falling to the ground, until Waller yanked the Mississippi battle flag from Murphy's hands.</span></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP5ZqM6HAX33YIMk2eNTUUjhOOb9iUNa3jp1KHUhSJMPLxc85n0KueLFXNEBGtuY1uRBT1VCcKvZ7rX3j2fo6LJXosyTAKYZnKRLoEreEsElS-48IeYD9X-eaJNRSujUsKm-33nUF719iO/s1600/First+++58.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="493" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP5ZqM6HAX33YIMk2eNTUUjhOOb9iUNa3jp1KHUhSJMPLxc85n0KueLFXNEBGtuY1uRBT1VCcKvZ7rX3j2fo6LJXosyTAKYZnKRLoEreEsElS-48IeYD9X-eaJNRSujUsKm-33nUF719iO/w640-h493/First+++58.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">The 14</span><sup><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">th</span></sup><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"> Brooklyn regiment (Cutler's brigade) now appeared, flanking the rebels and firing directly up the railroad cut from above, where 200 of the 2nd Mississippi were trapped between the earthen walls - the rest scattering for the rear. Colonel Dawes ran forward and "...I found myself face to face with hundreds of rebels, whom I looked upon in the railroad cut...four feet deep. I shouted, 'Where is the colonel of this regiment?....Surrender, or I will fire.' The officer replied not a word, but promptly handed me his sword and his men...threw down their muskets.”</span></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8jWEkiDvZgyoGCwCpcA31tlXBLullnGgHXqDflSurR-Z3VHUrI4ihg53TnGcHViyXa2yMkGkzIPSDj_e6rPrvf-Op8ZQgdtFtFDkHTeDRE8fsrVkaG9YSzyXIqyT5sgcIQ-s1vTu5eL28/s1600/1stmscav.gif" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8jWEkiDvZgyoGCwCpcA31tlXBLullnGgHXqDflSurR-Z3VHUrI4ihg53TnGcHViyXa2yMkGkzIPSDj_e6rPrvf-Op8ZQgdtFtFDkHTeDRE8fsrVkaG9YSzyXIqyT5sgcIQ-s1vTu5eL28/s400/1stmscav.gif" width="400" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Brigadier General Davis admitted, "subjected to a most galling fire of musketry and artillery that so reduced the already thinned ranks...there was nothing left but to retire." Colonel Dawes lead 420 Wisconsin men up the Emmitsburg road on 1 July, 1863. They left 30 dead on McPherson's ridge, 170 causalities in total. Both New York regiments lost over 110 men each. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie4ecLGA_c8rmoU_TNuK5ht5FiEzf0SA3WrxVINmjJWnU63GA98YPV064IFhZ2TUQdVAda1BTvRhJCd7lpSICCGhUE39BM0872OYVvclndPYcpJpbkIgBrjusIKeWMLgPzxj4uyYhVVon6/s1600/First+++28.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="568" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie4ecLGA_c8rmoU_TNuK5ht5FiEzf0SA3WrxVINmjJWnU63GA98YPV064IFhZ2TUQdVAda1BTvRhJCd7lpSICCGhUE39BM0872OYVvclndPYcpJpbkIgBrjusIKeWMLgPzxj4uyYhVVon6/s640/First+++28.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">And the 2</span><sup><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">nd</span></sup><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"> Mississippi regiment </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">had 40 dead and 183 wounded, and surrendered 7 officers (including its commander Major Blair) and 225 enlisted men in the unfinished railroad cut. That evening only 60 men answered roll call of the Confederate regiment. After </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">noon on 1 July, the battlefield west of Chambersburg Pike quieted down out of exhaustion, and every soldier and civilian within earshot caught their breath, and took stock of what had been achieved and what had been wasted.</span></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu217v0T8s-UKMzhFfPCuReHaSmh-4tDztiNFhImeKxO_d976Wp9hE-T4BMLtbRXC_liQrfhOyT51zJBDON28JuJ9-aEpw3B2Xi0KQlih8F_ObkomRZGd9xCmJxY0Th3d7O5Gm9qoECvBM/s1600/First+++31.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="203" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu217v0T8s-UKMzhFfPCuReHaSmh-4tDztiNFhImeKxO_d976Wp9hE-T4BMLtbRXC_liQrfhOyT51zJBDON28JuJ9-aEpw3B2Xi0KQlih8F_ObkomRZGd9xCmJxY0Th3d7O5Gm9qoECvBM/s400/First+++31.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Two of Heth's brigades, Archer's and Davis', had been badly punished. The third under Colonel Brockenbrough had blackened their reputation a little more. But the largest brigade in Heth's division, – the largest in the entire rebel army – under Brigadier General James Johnson Pettigrew, had not yet been committed to combat. It's regulation to the rear of a column that was assumed to be marching into battle, had made that battle more difficult. It all highlighted the abilities and the failings of the division commander</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLPDukd7Vvtwz5CBHtghcrIin8-DvZnGaBN_MczAJ1fAopBH5j0R2iAGX5ZFDm7v520uWF-mqIuXzh7VGi3pfTqDpXcdWk3WMg3w8CCJ8RMxo8BOQ-k-nvxgnToQxJ0a8paCsVkH81b194/s1600/First+++23.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLPDukd7Vvtwz5CBHtghcrIin8-DvZnGaBN_MczAJ1fAopBH5j0R2iAGX5ZFDm7v520uWF-mqIuXzh7VGi3pfTqDpXcdWk3WMg3w8CCJ8RMxo8BOQ-k-nvxgnToQxJ0a8paCsVkH81b194/s400/First+++23.JPG" width="296" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Major General Henry Heth (above) , who had been ordered not to start an engagement, had done just that. And having started it, he had pushed his men blindly forward, into an ambush he had been warned might be waiting. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVrJ2QufNF7EUsTUM-baSN91mzRzrQvz80gkBMdVwLJN5xtN4-4mPrnsZlO-xWCdj2WX23VdmoAKtXDOWRkzSDszKD-N_MRG-x5mZDXQHivoXH6KZY-Em1AKttzJNYW1P6BGrunozC2WDx/s1600/First+++51.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVrJ2QufNF7EUsTUM-baSN91mzRzrQvz80gkBMdVwLJN5xtN4-4mPrnsZlO-xWCdj2WX23VdmoAKtXDOWRkzSDszKD-N_MRG-x5mZDXQHivoXH6KZY-Em1AKttzJNYW1P6BGrunozC2WDx/s640/First+++51.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">And now, with a major engagement begun, he was forced to pause to bring up reinforcements, which would take time, which was just what the federals wanted. Win or lose, men die in battle, men are wounded and scared in battle. It is not a General's job to save lives. But it is the obligation of every officer in a combat unit to make certain the loss of life and limb and soul are worth the sacrifice. By that fundamental measure, Henry Heth had failed this morning.</span></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfAT0bA1CgFdKvgLAhvvKXSxNSmcSWDfPs6uecZMMyOTKNRU5ME6UK2v0lRiCzq9YLqx21QFoCpaWGf2LQQ6sUTnjDJjQJecW9E9RegxCZ5Wsj8STOx5n32C80sNVMD5n1iNmB1oFOPw0d/s1600/First+++02.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="388" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfAT0bA1CgFdKvgLAhvvKXSxNSmcSWDfPs6uecZMMyOTKNRU5ME6UK2v0lRiCzq9YLqx21QFoCpaWGf2LQQ6sUTnjDJjQJecW9E9RegxCZ5Wsj8STOx5n32C80sNVMD5n1iNmB1oFOPw0d/s640/First+++02.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">On the Federal side the cost had been equally high, and it had been worth the sacrifice. Time had been won. Time to march up the Emmitsburg road. Time to occupy the ridges west and north of town. Time to keep the rebels off of Little Round Top. And the First Day of Gettysburg was just barely half over.</span></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_I9aIQl_h1QfleOmt-BZC6V5osQClvQgVUhEweqUGVCi0oaE3ONia3eVh9Tx4EQohRH1pVRCl-axGMXB2vhv_swa1JPf8AND8de5f1nm_k-1qI7QcpGYQUGn_sA8-kTn-Cujmor_Dfrns/s1600/FIrst+++09.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="590" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_I9aIQl_h1QfleOmt-BZC6V5osQClvQgVUhEweqUGVCi0oaE3ONia3eVh9Tx4EQohRH1pVRCl-axGMXB2vhv_swa1JPf8AND8de5f1nm_k-1qI7QcpGYQUGn_sA8-kTn-Cujmor_Dfrns/s640/FIrst+++09.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">- 30 -</span></span></div></div></div>Kimit Mustonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03809428003905885379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5034791890201777099.post-12141799919744632762024-02-27T09:00:00.021-05:002024-02-27T09:00:00.130-05:00THE FIRST DAY Chapter Seventeen<p> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd2ukD86hVGSZnOuaeEX_KNAOZmi1lRoXyq-Z7m7H214y2-YO2dPKPiIFphOaPMOCeBwldai_vPFJhgPi5k8IfLTg_GUq_TwU7BqivXCJN1HR0zvYRDFDTDwY11IDPeQ7SajWSrXWdrzsZ/s1600/579px-Gettysburg_Day1_0700.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd2ukD86hVGSZnOuaeEX_KNAOZmi1lRoXyq-Z7m7H214y2-YO2dPKPiIFphOaPMOCeBwldai_vPFJhgPi5k8IfLTg_GUq_TwU7BqivXCJN1HR0zvYRDFDTDwY11IDPeQ7SajWSrXWdrzsZ/s640/579px-Gettysburg_Day1_0700.png" width="618" /></a></p><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">I believe only two people had a clear idea of what was happening at Gettysburg this morning. One was Brigadier General John Buford. His troopers - 3,000 men and a single battery of six 3-inch rifled cannon - were blocking Henry Heth's division of 7,000 infantry and 15 cannon. </span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7rMX5u4Hr0kXm_bt718m8Lk_49EryeUyq9wSZ9cR5-Xt_ejioxehGBMkivzhi8JdoHop9JpUtEhfEz0XTvgAEDk-cLMAJ5FOj1EuiTBfroW3IQANXARg-1UhyBcSTbaVMMUc3NC33j67gTlpmr1lwz3CDH0zSsad9NEPNhTZSu_Yuh2wyblQ1Pzxa0wUu/s600/16711471_10208419334176947_1930980983460304542_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="487" data-original-width="600" height="520" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7rMX5u4Hr0kXm_bt718m8Lk_49EryeUyq9wSZ9cR5-Xt_ejioxehGBMkivzhi8JdoHop9JpUtEhfEz0XTvgAEDk-cLMAJ5FOj1EuiTBfroW3IQANXARg-1UhyBcSTbaVMMUc3NC33j67gTlpmr1lwz3CDH0zSsad9NEPNhTZSu_Yuh2wyblQ1Pzxa0wUu/w640-h520/16711471_10208419334176947_1930980983460304542_n.jpg" width="640" /></a></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">They were also about to be outflanked by the converging Rhodes division of another 7,000 rebel infantry and 16 cannon coming down from Carlisle, and Early's division approaching from York with another 5,400 rebel infantrymen and 16 cannon – almost 20,000 men and 47 cannon about to crush Buford's tiny command.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih7o_h0KijcPjXCgOYQTbcHgx1bo3iuHZ_XGuTVh0CbzW6TdRP71L2pQ2uFSOYdUPmrzudjCaUDwbmb_wq5fK0B7LjcIkRZNGW4zrbNkLqR0PkXVrWrt593TZUp41aTPXyZiaMguQ76XUp/s1600/FIrst+++09.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih7o_h0KijcPjXCgOYQTbcHgx1bo3iuHZ_XGuTVh0CbzW6TdRP71L2pQ2uFSOYdUPmrzudjCaUDwbmb_wq5fK0B7LjcIkRZNGW4zrbNkLqR0PkXVrWrt593TZUp41aTPXyZiaMguQ76XUp/s640/FIrst+++09.jpg" width="444" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">At 10:30p.m. on Tuesday, 30 June, 1863 Buford (above) sent his cold and emotionless appraisal of the situation to three men - General Pleasanton, commander of the Federal Cavalry Corps and Buford's boss, and General Meade, newly named commander of the entire Army of the Potomac. </span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioM-HRlc1SifTN2S629UGZLPUdEX9ymxDgWzoz2IGbHfrh-Gu8yl_JqT_A9kKkAaA1gWF4XdJgelIl2bbakUeftjScWQjDzynvXspSbINJYJxoHdh9lau6LrGxhoxpWSg9hsSoJ1spo87C1hiriLDvbC86QvyWGutK82WdKSPvqVSH6OYNqXSOz1Zb2SD2/s600/1280px-Palestine_Gallery_at_the_Australian_War_Memorial_(MG_9693).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="389" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioM-HRlc1SifTN2S629UGZLPUdEX9ymxDgWzoz2IGbHfrh-Gu8yl_JqT_A9kKkAaA1gWF4XdJgelIl2bbakUeftjScWQjDzynvXspSbINJYJxoHdh9lau6LrGxhoxpWSg9hsSoJ1spo87C1hiriLDvbC86QvyWGutK82WdKSPvqVSH6OYNqXSOz1Zb2SD2/w414-h640/1280px-Palestine_Gallery_at_the_Australian_War_Memorial_(MG_9693).jpg" width="414" /></a></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">But the first recipient was the most important - commander of the only troops close enough the help Buford's men, commander of the First Corps of the Army of the Potomac - 11,000 men and 28 cannon – and the only other person who fully comprehended the importance of the strategic and tactical situation in Gettysburg on the following morning - Major General John Fulton Reynolds.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZswGhsaRGzlrEShh8ORYWWiNmUDeGmWjZGbMjmEcYRrXZooR6xsvcmLlmCE5hLiUoA-zTu7L_15UeRwhxIzzCh5NaTP4Cxc-kZUSbPq4IHCuMI5JpxnSUqYjq7OSNur24gJ7O5h5qN4Fr/s1600/First+++40.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZswGhsaRGzlrEShh8ORYWWiNmUDeGmWjZGbMjmEcYRrXZooR6xsvcmLlmCE5hLiUoA-zTu7L_15UeRwhxIzzCh5NaTP4Cxc-kZUSbPq4IHCuMI5JpxnSUqYjq7OSNur24gJ7O5h5qN4Fr/s640/First+++40.jpg" width="494" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">His older brother had gone into the navy, and risen to captain. John Reynolds (above) had become a soldier, enduring the lonely life serving on the western frontier, negotiating and fighting the native peoples of the Great Plains and in the 1859 part of the almost war with Britain over an island between Canada and Washington Territory. His devotion to the Union was unquestioned. His bravery undoubted. His mind sharp and clear. His subtly not present. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVbfjHfuQjGYnuwpcKwAgp6i3EXFkZKAYOz9Ej8588YMdcJLQkiw7LO-3xOnnNSaachwJyyi17aVEZoqEufobyMZ24MzHWsL9XroHqy0f3CJhR1RfcHpdUnQ4JcQvwESFkx0qViWK7EOEz/s1600/First+++35.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="463" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVbfjHfuQjGYnuwpcKwAgp6i3EXFkZKAYOz9Ej8588YMdcJLQkiw7LO-3xOnnNSaachwJyyi17aVEZoqEufobyMZ24MzHWsL9XroHqy0f3CJhR1RfcHpdUnQ4JcQvwESFkx0qViWK7EOEz/s640/First+++35.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">General Reynolds had spent the last part of that brief night between June and July of 1863, 5 miles north of Emmitsburg, Maryland, wrapped in a blanket and sleeping on the floor of the empty Mortiz tavern (above) on Marsh Creek, about 7 miles south of Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. It is amazing how little sleep the officers on both sides of any war get while on campaign, which may explain many of the mistakes and oversights that cost so many lives. On this night, Reynolds was awakened again at 4:00a.m. by his aide Major William Riddle.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXL8MCpKjV551i_U5kc97-FhLIOPVcotUvDCHo-mDS29TkjPIAuJS6SCNPdTpITQkJ2NuVXkWYXuy1FsmKd7BOugSAqy3PoXdiIeKnMH6SLq356HmiAWb8iVDS_TDFHPIrF2xQb-0zOKj2/s1600/First+++34.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXL8MCpKjV551i_U5kc97-FhLIOPVcotUvDCHo-mDS29TkjPIAuJS6SCNPdTpITQkJ2NuVXkWYXuy1FsmKd7BOugSAqy3PoXdiIeKnMH6SLq356HmiAWb8iVDS_TDFHPIrF2xQb-0zOKj2/s640/First+++34.jpg" width="630" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Riddle had to read the day's marching orders from General Meade out loud several times while the sleep deprived Reynolds tried to process them. He was now in charge of the left wing of the army, and there was little doubt in any one's mind that his was the force that was going to contact Robert E. Lee's rebels first. Buford’s late night missive made it clear to Reynolds, that this would be the day. Three hours later Reynolds effective second in command, Brigadier General Abner Doubleday, would arrive for his instructions. While they were talking, the first shot would be fired from Herr Ridge, opening the battle. And at about 8:00a.m. Reynolds and his staff would mount up and trot toward Gettysburg.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfv814kY05VGM3wdPExYNEiDN3f-BfGpm_8Slw0hg4zaxCJuKWI2Qs8qep6V_6smNYVgEntNcCGpcioMa3tjI74Ytk3Mrj_m2G46L8lP-cvvX8I8QfqMxgio-Bu2-62loWAKwjDkJg-810/s1600/First+++28.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfv814kY05VGM3wdPExYNEiDN3f-BfGpm_8Slw0hg4zaxCJuKWI2Qs8qep6V_6smNYVgEntNcCGpcioMa3tjI74Ytk3Mrj_m2G46L8lP-cvvX8I8QfqMxgio-Bu2-62loWAKwjDkJg-810/s400/First+++28.jpg" width="291" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Awakening that morning just 6 miles south of Gettysburg were the 3,800 men of the 1</span><sup><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">st</span></sup><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"> division, commanded by “the richest brigadier in this army”, 55 year old white haired politician and philanthropist, James Samuel Wadsworth (above) of New York. His men loved the hesitant Republican, and during the march to Gettysburg, Wadsworth was reputed to have commandeered shoes off the feet of cheering civilians, to replace the worn out souls of his men's foot ware. Unlike Heth, Wadsworth had his strength in front, the 1,800 men of the famous Iron Brigade, under Brigadier General Solomon Meredith.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbCYRcUENsSHjus8wN448rcR10suWig88wkkrj4rrOz6uwlj_jDLpUJt9Kdq0onZTo4V8jKMTscmhq_v44WwcNWUfOV0ptnMqTGvp9w2EmPm0hdNyYktC84TbR63U8vWwLjsfrYz7hLBHy/s1600/First+++57.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="362" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbCYRcUENsSHjus8wN448rcR10suWig88wkkrj4rrOz6uwlj_jDLpUJt9Kdq0onZTo4V8jKMTscmhq_v44WwcNWUfOV0ptnMqTGvp9w2EmPm0hdNyYktC84TbR63U8vWwLjsfrYz7hLBHy/s640/First+++57.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">The Iron Brigade was composed of five western regiments - the 2</span><sup><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">nd</span></sup><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"> , 6</span><sup><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">th</span></sup><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"> and 7</span><sup><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">th</span></sup><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"> Wisconsin, the 19</span><sup><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">th</span></sup><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"> Indiana and the 24</span><sup><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">th</span></sup><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"> Michigan - which had fought as a unit in every major eastern battle since Bull Run. Under their second commander, General John Gibbon, the brigade had converted their dress broad brimmed soft black hats into their standard uniform, making them distinct. Gibbon had also given them their legendary discipline. One private remembered, “There were early morning drills, before breakfast drills, forenoon drills, afternoon drills, evening and night drills...” Another soldier observed that “Probably no brigade commander was more cordially hated by his men.” </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjFG4bNZINoGD_Uyhu-aevUru4KPsc2eYI1SE-brV3Wj4d6Hm2TtUEsgCnuRIGuFR1I2F27EKd0dtt4FdPhX80wZ79fJIwmKGko6RvqbIiAKl7bEi0XNEtyXZYxeGZJ8oQSCK44ELVhd3d/s1600/First+++58.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjFG4bNZINoGD_Uyhu-aevUru4KPsc2eYI1SE-brV3Wj4d6Hm2TtUEsgCnuRIGuFR1I2F27EKd0dtt4FdPhX80wZ79fJIwmKGko6RvqbIiAKl7bEi0XNEtyXZYxeGZJ8oQSCK44ELVhd3d/s640/First+++58.jpg" width="600" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">But witnessing Gibbon's troops under fire at the 1862 battle of South Mountain, first commander of the Army of the Potomac, General George McClellan, had said, “They must be made of iron.” The label stuck, but it cost. After 2 years of war, of the 1,000 men who had joined the 2</span><sup><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">nd</span></sup><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"> Wisconsin volunteer regiment in 1861, there were only 300 men left.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1JfhgKa-l5LVjLzowGGe3UVgonTNlx4jTpkYQnkj7hEGG7Ye3BOEslCKoW8RIHkJpG9b9p3KoERoWfJwpvVCiGKew64YFwZv2NYQL0bBuggPFVa_Ybpk5YzUCpV8JGuJFM2IFF6Mw7-hC/s1600/First+++58.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1JfhgKa-l5LVjLzowGGe3UVgonTNlx4jTpkYQnkj7hEGG7Ye3BOEslCKoW8RIHkJpG9b9p3KoERoWfJwpvVCiGKew64YFwZv2NYQL0bBuggPFVa_Ybpk5YzUCpV8JGuJFM2IFF6Mw7-hC/s640/First+++58.jpg" width="445" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Meredith's brigade was followed by the 2,000 members of the 2</span><sup><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">nd</span></sup><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"> Brigade – the 7</span><sup><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">th</span></sup><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"> Indiana, the 56</span><sup><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">th</span></sup><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"> Pennsylvania, and the 76</span><sup><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">th</span></sup><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">, 84</span><sup><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">th</span></sup><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">, 95</span><sup><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">th</span></sup><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"> and 147</span><sup><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">th</span></sup><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"> New York regiments - under 56 year old Hoosier Brigadier General Lysander Cutler (above). He was a real self made man. Born in North Carolina, Cutler had walked to Indiana and climbed from store clerk to State Representative. He was maybe the poorest officer in the army. His men were on the road by 6;00a.m. that morning, and would be in Gettysburg in about 3 hours.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSXJ5XMZwq5kPElg295rgljRji1v-_R9kGCnCkUzEHFVbLI1V40RuP_e8M7LZekdrS12oLb1jbq0c2kWJquhKLQkbNsTHbP7OHaVlGyopn272Vo8UIHziNSS7TvotXjfxuCaXZL9lDvgE_/s1600/First+++02.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSXJ5XMZwq5kPElg295rgljRji1v-_R9kGCnCkUzEHFVbLI1V40RuP_e8M7LZekdrS12oLb1jbq0c2kWJquhKLQkbNsTHbP7OHaVlGyopn272Vo8UIHziNSS7TvotXjfxuCaXZL9lDvgE_/s640/First+++02.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Leaving after his infantry, Reynolds quickly outdistanced them, riding to the sound of the guns, through waves of civilian refugees, many African Americans fleeing the rebel impressment gangs. Shortly after 9:30a.m. Reynolds reached the Lutheran Seminary (above, distance) and greeted Buford with the question, “What's the matter, John?” Buford replied, “The devil's to pay.” </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhovJSlIK-ttmY3zTYqnaAm2eqWwL7Dm3nsuwHQER2GTGqmcvvS5Lcj_pmT9UmjHqB6eKAnKrmFOG6h-o3Z9BA8luSglUrP5UsGCyXOZ3i1A24JCSXun43t0lS1KrUxxZ0Po5LzyjyOUKTJ/s1600/FIrst+++09.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhovJSlIK-ttmY3zTYqnaAm2eqWwL7Dm3nsuwHQER2GTGqmcvvS5Lcj_pmT9UmjHqB6eKAnKrmFOG6h-o3Z9BA8luSglUrP5UsGCyXOZ3i1A24JCSXun43t0lS1KrUxxZ0Po5LzyjyOUKTJ/s400/FIrst+++09.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">The 2 men talked in the cool mist for a few moments, before General Reynolds' sent a messenger back to General Wentworth. His division was advance at the double-quick and relieve the cavalrymen on McPherson's Ridge, west of Gettysburg. </span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqRK10tMcRKEkIOhE92MEOPo05DQm0ovvj0ArmahCYRj2T6DTs0tGcxfuUh0rK3guncWfHFIS48D60WiqdqZKiTcFx_1toyNfZliy8Ca4kpdtsf8M2hBCZFjma6MaLlGzu-TZqhSB5j3Hj/s1600/First+++58.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="508" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqRK10tMcRKEkIOhE92MEOPo05DQm0ovvj0ArmahCYRj2T6DTs0tGcxfuUh0rK3guncWfHFIS48D60WiqdqZKiTcFx_1toyNfZliy8Ca4kpdtsf8M2hBCZFjma6MaLlGzu-TZqhSB5j3Hj/s640/First+++58.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Reynolds also sent a messenger to General Howard in Emmitsburg, telling him to bring the Eleventh Corps forward to Gettysburg at once. A message was also sent to General Sickles, ordering the Third Corps to move to Gettysburg via the Emmitsburg Road. A fourth message went back to General Meade, saying, “...we will hold the heights to the south of the town, and...I will barricade the streets...if necessary.”</span></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioSaJuXFnnYAVv47oULgfMqCR-L4ttRAmpvFUVx_cV60dNUq5QkOw0obZL-NwN6Eo5k9u_EZ8nu3gdMExk-DvJVwmnqUSOFMSMC9q2H_GiTShDBY4RWatfhzASzBh2cfUcLiumuEhN-lE8/s1600/FIrst+++09.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioSaJuXFnnYAVv47oULgfMqCR-L4ttRAmpvFUVx_cV60dNUq5QkOw0obZL-NwN6Eo5k9u_EZ8nu3gdMExk-DvJVwmnqUSOFMSMC9q2H_GiTShDBY4RWatfhzASzBh2cfUcLiumuEhN-lE8/s400/FIrst+++09.jpg" width="376" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Had Lee been at the front, he would have seen the strategy for what it was, and possibly broken contact and withdrawn back to the Cashtown Gap. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwH3IESwFRRbtFnbdH5fY1IUvkn2Y1xlfmdiCyhb1AGemch5UvJ8VPWCisanaH2Maw8Ss_zI88I9CbcNsM31moWgELl1n08mUYAYtFdW-mtH1S6m1ztg-P3UCti6xsxr8NJ9JW_GJf1a4f/s1600/1863PaMap.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="632" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwH3IESwFRRbtFnbdH5fY1IUvkn2Y1xlfmdiCyhb1AGemch5UvJ8VPWCisanaH2Maw8Ss_zI88I9CbcNsM31moWgELl1n08mUYAYtFdW-mtH1S6m1ztg-P3UCti6xsxr8NJ9JW_GJf1a4f/s640/1863PaMap.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">But Lee was 10 miles back, not even reaching Cashtown until mid-day. Meanwhile Reynolds was at the the front, and clearly the strategic superior of Henry Heth.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS4WOD9vw_hhJihJXs21hdRH9U-ys0cDRcIO73NbnsysBSymNiVhPLD0uv7S0MTyBoMkRo5Jwfk0gNJ-ak4C1dMF6U2jmrgkUdrC702d2G26iiccOy5kDXVXNvPvO4A51xW4h_HjuDF0lK/s1600/First+++61.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS4WOD9vw_hhJihJXs21hdRH9U-ys0cDRcIO73NbnsysBSymNiVhPLD0uv7S0MTyBoMkRo5Jwfk0gNJ-ak4C1dMF6U2jmrgkUdrC702d2G26iiccOy5kDXVXNvPvO4A51xW4h_HjuDF0lK/s640/First+++61.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Marching at the double -quick across McPherson's ridge, the 2nd Wisconsin did not have time to load their muskets before Reynolds himself threw them into the 5 acre stand of trees known as Herbst's Woods. These trees topped the crest of the ridge, protecting the advancing rebel regiments of Archer's 1,200 men as they came up the hill. Reynolds was determined they must not win that crest – at lest not yet. The rebels had to be thrown back, or not enough of the Federal army would have time to occupy the round tops 2 miles to the north.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQOBdRAnisoQgvP9pCHp-17jeytAtWGCUpVKzl9VQ7WyQ2a_barCDKssSANSR-1M3N_eX4b2xyipOyC_gdA6JIzv9Yafa_eFfGl4wHNRUhalt43rBIdbyfmg8LaFiBRjKjPhDQRE_xR-QR/s1600/First+++60.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="314" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQOBdRAnisoQgvP9pCHp-17jeytAtWGCUpVKzl9VQ7WyQ2a_barCDKssSANSR-1M3N_eX4b2xyipOyC_gdA6JIzv9Yafa_eFfGl4wHNRUhalt43rBIdbyfmg8LaFiBRjKjPhDQRE_xR-QR/s640/First+++60.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Under Reynolds orders, the Wisconsin boys fixed their bayonets at the run. Reynolds urged them into the stand of trees adjacent to a field of corn, shouting, “Forward men! Forward for God’s sake, and drive those fellows out of those woods!” Seeing the Federals approaching through the trees, Archer halted his 1,200 rebels and unleashed a murderous volley of musket fire. A third of the 2</span><sup><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">nd</span></sup><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"> Wisconsin regiment went down, dead and wounded. Every man in the color guard was out of action. But the remaining 200 men showed their iron, pressing forward. One of the rebels about to receive the fierce charge supposedly remarked, “Those are those damned black hat fellows again. Tain't no militia. That's Army of the Potomac!” Archer's men then continued their own charge, and the Tennessee and Alabama rebels engulfed the outnumbered Wisconsin boys. But as they did, without intending to, they turned their own flanks, to swallow the Yankees in a sea of gray and butternut brown.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfushyphenhyphenWCz_YHradJ5j343Cu9HMZHx8pB5wZV5lc9cpqiRRGqO6AJI-kWqWfffoJls73P_dcKq9BafpuDi6ZMbkDg2eK4cUq4KCyvlT0DN5k-1TD79vqU6OV4NNRmFxE091UqPK6qa6KvDw/s1600/First+++32.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="444" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfushyphenhyphenWCz_YHradJ5j343Cu9HMZHx8pB5wZV5lc9cpqiRRGqO6AJI-kWqWfffoJls73P_dcKq9BafpuDi6ZMbkDg2eK4cUq4KCyvlT0DN5k-1TD79vqU6OV4NNRmFxE091UqPK6qa6KvDw/s640/First+++32.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Just as this catastrophe was occurring to the Iron Brigade, Generals Doubleday and Williams led the rest of the Iron Brigade in a more organized charge, and the fresh Federal troops fell upon the rear of Archer's turned flanks. In the shock and noise and violence, Archer's brigade was broken, smashed, its individuals falling back across Willoughby Run. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlRWEuXTHyGLD3dvZouNTopTtG61N_pUNRWP60rtdwsOOlj7MsNaOKxIMcBSNmyDr6szkSHmL4HvUY4OPJj4RivJWWicV5D2cuRT_538Wf8Wr09iPc5GF0j4DcI6uUqy05fgFZH4V8clbN/s1600/First+++10.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlRWEuXTHyGLD3dvZouNTopTtG61N_pUNRWP60rtdwsOOlj7MsNaOKxIMcBSNmyDr6szkSHmL4HvUY4OPJj4RivJWWicV5D2cuRT_538Wf8Wr09iPc5GF0j4DcI6uUqy05fgFZH4V8clbN/s640/First+++10.jpg" width="458" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">In the assault, 200 rebels found themselves surrounded in a group of willows on the west bank of the creek, and were taken prisoner – including the “Little Game Cock” who had tried to warn Henry Heth of the dangers of such an assault - General James Archer (above). As he was being led to the rear, General Doubleday saw his old army comrade and greeted him, “Good morning, Archer. How are you? I'm glad to see you, Archer.” To which the bitter Archer replied, “Well, I'm not glad to see you, by a damn sight.”</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-IZxvCQDTrvo6opszWyEjmibPzj7v7fMroQB58cY8dSbCujjRB2dAzbamPyNeR6mlLRO_XILiddcH8Cj2J7qdK166BQITcgWU189YdgEg4SJ6ft7Hn6nslEpycJtYFZIuhKQzVoRqgbHq/s1600/First+++47.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="420" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-IZxvCQDTrvo6opszWyEjmibPzj7v7fMroQB58cY8dSbCujjRB2dAzbamPyNeR6mlLRO_XILiddcH8Cj2J7qdK166BQITcgWU189YdgEg4SJ6ft7Hn6nslEpycJtYFZIuhKQzVoRqgbHq/s640/First+++47.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">At that moment, adrenaline rushing through his blood, Doubleday was unaware of the catastrophe which had just befallen his corps. In that volley let loose from Archer's brigade against the 2</span><sup style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">nd</sup><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"> Wisconsin, General Reynolds and several members of his staff had also been hit. Reynolds slumped in the saddle. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXhPv5gQTFsitIXW7erLjWkd194C_bUpVRoeZGsATpsrf7uh40x4A8HoQuBv78JoiSy9oIck8Z8__5pDTg7WvwajAzaPaAjjZ6vqAzva190lUsakxsT7zPzLB2waAQJtmLT3v3cGd5bRBu/s1600/First+++38.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="638" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXhPv5gQTFsitIXW7erLjWkd194C_bUpVRoeZGsATpsrf7uh40x4A8HoQuBv78JoiSy9oIck8Z8__5pDTg7WvwajAzaPaAjjZ6vqAzva190lUsakxsT7zPzLB2waAQJtmLT3v3cGd5bRBu/s640/First+++38.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Suddenly free from the pressure control of its rider, and perhaps hit itself, the General's horse trotted out of the line of attack, bearing Major-General John Fulton Reynolds a few yards into the open stand of trees (above, right). There, his surviving staff gathered the reins, calmed the horse and lowered their commander to the ground. They loosened his uniform, looking for the wound. By the time they found it, he was dead.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcUfeyrfg76fSyTgkpiVVD56nSdc8-1XkJZywnWT65sssCWbwU1ieuzj1JyETGagi-0X_0BGey-Fo14G5j69fS0XH_CMkKtfofG84Myjg2o4j4gwkBDHAkCx35M1peD7lQoHNkznjWoYpG/s1600/1863PaMap.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="440" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcUfeyrfg76fSyTgkpiVVD56nSdc8-1XkJZywnWT65sssCWbwU1ieuzj1JyETGagi-0X_0BGey-Fo14G5j69fS0XH_CMkKtfofG84Myjg2o4j4gwkBDHAkCx35M1peD7lQoHNkznjWoYpG/s640/1863PaMap.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">This was no sharpshooters work. A single Minnie ball had entered behind Reynolds right ear, and burrowed its way through his brain. He was effectively dead before the horse could be stopped. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2Og02uIQt6MqxnCQIio7NVmHuj9aAtoenc_BKCupxKC_I4luWfaurRb5lyyU6EQmg7cAhe3hTfhfDOLcKhxRQVgWGDDpOxzkQgAW93fH2_9qE3i3rHdE0yORVgGRWpsmCATMcRsdfKTzV/s1600/First+++02.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2Og02uIQt6MqxnCQIio7NVmHuj9aAtoenc_BKCupxKC_I4luWfaurRb5lyyU6EQmg7cAhe3hTfhfDOLcKhxRQVgWGDDpOxzkQgAW93fH2_9qE3i3rHdE0yORVgGRWpsmCATMcRsdfKTzV/s400/First+++02.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">What killed John Reynolds was a random shot, a death by the anarchy, the unmitigated insanity of combat. It may even have been fired from a union musket. Like all war, this single shot had no meaning in and of itself. It was given meaning afterward to satisfy the humans who had to live with the consequences of their own arrogance and stupidity. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-fALiiHLqbLPHRmFlGr2uaJIP0VbJy2ZIE-dqsvI_xz7-m_lwvMRjHWdTKHGLxqd_iUUjWbHXQwTamNc0DWgCJOXuPQS_t9NbJkZbOFcJXtw8k2HScv1YETQfcWyx0K7u3SklM07m7JX_/s1600/FIrst+++09.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="243" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-fALiiHLqbLPHRmFlGr2uaJIP0VbJy2ZIE-dqsvI_xz7-m_lwvMRjHWdTKHGLxqd_iUUjWbHXQwTamNc0DWgCJOXuPQS_t9NbJkZbOFcJXtw8k2HScv1YETQfcWyx0K7u3SklM07m7JX_/s400/FIrst+++09.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">One of his aides, Major Joseph Rosengarten, tried to understand the grief a decade and a half later. “...Reynolds, in the full flush of life and health," marveled Rosengarten, "....a glorious picture of the best type of military leader, superbly mounted, and horse and man sharing in the excitement of the shock of battle.”</span></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNUo3IlWh3icyqb9ds9hFiQ9aQ909SJ3nAfwljKCxQEz2gEMm5axNk5KEPqiJXL4NPB6iDKcy32sXgpkym2ohY2DUQtapd5KX9OgEvjdDGqrf06d8XOQ2nJjhy3G8ftdlG8D3BBzTny5T0/s1600/First+++50.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNUo3IlWh3icyqb9ds9hFiQ9aQ909SJ3nAfwljKCxQEz2gEMm5axNk5KEPqiJXL4NPB6iDKcy32sXgpkym2ohY2DUQtapd5KX9OgEvjdDGqrf06d8XOQ2nJjhy3G8ftdlG8D3BBzTny5T0/s640/First+++50.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">They carried his body off the field and into the town, leaving him in a house while the battle continued around it. That night they crept into the no man's land of Gettysburg to retrieve his cold corpse, and sent it home to his family. His sisters would bury him in their home town of Lancaster, Pennsylvania, on 4 July. I prefer to think of John Fulton Reynolds' sacrifice as a monument to the courage and the stupidity of the entire war. And every monument to every war in the all of human history, including the battle of Gettysburg, and that memorial, and all memorial to the heroes and victims of every war, should all bear the same inscription: "What A Waste."</span></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXyDphh7M8ofxF1_zcJXanH8IfBrKEcGvV2mp1FtiswemWloDHK7_R1SA3rJ5O_Si3wssYvwqvAe2UwpRBCOhxvGVhrLCykLu-H6B-RtbO1uhOCZqQaFUYOx8qW46j-quZr1-7rAS1sfUw/s1600/First+++41.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXyDphh7M8ofxF1_zcJXanH8IfBrKEcGvV2mp1FtiswemWloDHK7_R1SA3rJ5O_Si3wssYvwqvAe2UwpRBCOhxvGVhrLCykLu-H6B-RtbO1uhOCZqQaFUYOx8qW46j-quZr1-7rAS1sfUw/s640/First+++41.jpg" width="482" /></a></div></div><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman", serif; font-size: x-large;">- 30 -</span> </p>Kimit Mustonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03809428003905885379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5034791890201777099.post-80090182785136467142024-02-26T09:00:00.014-05:002024-02-26T09:00:00.156-05:00THE FIRST DAY Chapter Sixteen<p> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnGiFjF1L_AOmoO1Hs7BtUDFrgyYUs0uXejf1PH19O3pGreT1sJujrIJqqSGBBYjE2v1nv_I5F0OGqp4c98_lAAEINFtnOU25zxl1fWZlDfTnyk9iBrVnw5yLJOe2Ncbd0QGE3fq2On3lw/s1600/teeter13.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnGiFjF1L_AOmoO1Hs7BtUDFrgyYUs0uXejf1PH19O3pGreT1sJujrIJqqSGBBYjE2v1nv_I5F0OGqp4c98_lAAEINFtnOU25zxl1fWZlDfTnyk9iBrVnw5yLJOe2Ncbd0QGE3fq2On3lw/w640-h478/teeter13.jpg" width="640" /></a></p><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: 'times new roman', serif;">I would call it an ominous beginning. Under a cold drizzle in the predawn darkness of Wednesday, 1 July, 1863, the 7,000 veterans of 38 year old Major General Henry Heth's - pronounced “Heath” - division were roused from an uneasy sleep along the Chanbersburg Pike. The men in the ranks knew the enemy was nearby. They expected that some of them would be dead by noon, and that more would suffer the limited skills of the surgeons </span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH5voebWPTholhfU5NYa1KauJubjDDD6tlFr9GRrc_oWV2RnJzq9nM48t6XB0BLwWpmyAPAcVgWZ1G3bDCXgCPlXbAYBpNzPYJ1Iyjy7JyZca-Zw1gRo9LcdHBKnubbpilo3dagkFK1ifd4hB0w6TRZ1pn_4dB4dioAuOCpc8xAR6aPhxkpd8NYZUP9uzy/s738/1280px-Palestine_Gallery_at_the_Australian_War_Memorial_(MG_9693).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="738" data-original-width="685" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH5voebWPTholhfU5NYa1KauJubjDDD6tlFr9GRrc_oWV2RnJzq9nM48t6XB0BLwWpmyAPAcVgWZ1G3bDCXgCPlXbAYBpNzPYJ1Iyjy7JyZca-Zw1gRo9LcdHBKnubbpilo3dagkFK1ifd4hB0w6TRZ1pn_4dB4dioAuOCpc8xAR6aPhxkpd8NYZUP9uzy/w594-h640/1280px-Palestine_Gallery_at_the_Australian_War_Memorial_(MG_9693).jpg" width="594" /></a></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: 'times new roman', serif;">But who among their ranks would bleed this day, and which of them were witnessing their last sunrise they could not know. Still, they rose and ate their rude breakfasts, packed their meager belongings and formed up for the 7 mile march to Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. They were brave men fighting for an evil cause.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZhg5RygqFj9SgC0I0Q5KP_jLEsU_uOKd0AOlRCFp6hQe4AeVdnPyHpFkukq78DICy4qKUaN1tyCH4TNcaF10Xc4Oo_9MCQ_JCINs8XFlRQbPzwTE455GZZ8UO_3C-uW3c9Qn16J5LawqS/s1600/First+++48.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZhg5RygqFj9SgC0I0Q5KP_jLEsU_uOKd0AOlRCFp6hQe4AeVdnPyHpFkukq78DICy4qKUaN1tyCH4TNcaF10Xc4Oo_9MCQ_JCINs8XFlRQbPzwTE455GZZ8UO_3C-uW3c9Qn16J5LawqS/s640/First+++48.jpg" width="520" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">The day before, Tuesday 30 June, 1863, the 1</span><sup><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">st</span></sup><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"> brigade under 35 year old Brigadier General James Johnson Pettigrew (above) had spotted blue clad cavalry just entering the Gettysburg. Following General Lee's orders to “Avoid all contact with the enemy until the entire army has arrived”, Pettigrew immediately withdrew back to Cashtown and reported the Yankee's presence. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm4bEZo_1NE-Rakq77n_Y1_26i-0g1dcr3Vx_S4d-mIKQX1URIYatzuyYVtQYr6yl0-PKTrHaC96HjxYr3SQMTfmYkOp6F0153xSN_Mx79yZsOAebWgVdVAFN7SGoPf1qBvQ9O7FwpdBVP/s1600/First+++23.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm4bEZo_1NE-Rakq77n_Y1_26i-0g1dcr3Vx_S4d-mIKQX1URIYatzuyYVtQYr6yl0-PKTrHaC96HjxYr3SQMTfmYkOp6F0153xSN_Mx79yZsOAebWgVdVAFN7SGoPf1qBvQ9O7FwpdBVP/s400/First+++23.JPG" width="296" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: 'times new roman', serif;">Pettigrew suspected the Yankee horsemen were regulars. But his commander, the ambitious and charming Henry Heth (above), believed they were merely militia. The story is that Heth assured his Corps commander, Lieutenant General A.P. Hill, “... if there is no objection, I will take my division tomorrow and go to Gettysburg and get those shoes...Hill replied, “None in the world.”</span></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisoIefAm60rfjyJ28mH0jVBjBDUfZV4RaK_dcE2oNfv_BBIsEQZmc9DyyW4LFb4Hv6bqZ8yqDjq1nNGOhG074uEPZ3RTwXujuJuQhLGBgrDPyA6gplNaN6vB21VLd1zOcNKXDDqDG0Bryo/s1600/First+++50.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="548" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisoIefAm60rfjyJ28mH0jVBjBDUfZV4RaK_dcE2oNfv_BBIsEQZmc9DyyW4LFb4Hv6bqZ8yqDjq1nNGOhG074uEPZ3RTwXujuJuQhLGBgrDPyA6gplNaN6vB21VLd1zOcNKXDDqDG0Bryo/s640/First+++50.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: 'times new roman', serif;">This myth did not appear until 25 years after the war, in an article written by Heth. There were no shoes in Gettysburg. Jubal Early's division had marched through Gettysburg the week before, Jenkin's cavalry too. They had stripped the town's businesses of most everything of use. And no one even mentioned shoes and Gettysburg in the same sentence until Henry Heth, a quarter of a century later. No veteran in the Army of Northern Virginia marched 140 miles into Pennsylvania on bare feet. We might as well believe they marched into battle already wounded. We have no photo's of either prisoners or war dead (above) without shoes. </span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman', serif;">A soldier may want newer, better fitting shoes, but the barefoot rebel is a myth created to justify Henry Heth ignoring orders to “avoid all contact”. And the myth does a disservice to the men who followed Henry Heth down that road.</span></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz1p5LciUlPmFyXx131rqp_nhOX5DjzuyUC5hvLjnjJrVY9vLRwyIHfhvz2ezpXeoQgIQulZ9y7ccWag7zeGqpu0qnhS8woZCkfriqecR_PbECejy8f4eYnnfhKf9ZrM5q9SFfC0uUEqYe/s1600/First+++24.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz1p5LciUlPmFyXx131rqp_nhOX5DjzuyUC5hvLjnjJrVY9vLRwyIHfhvz2ezpXeoQgIQulZ9y7ccWag7zeGqpu0qnhS8woZCkfriqecR_PbECejy8f4eYnnfhKf9ZrM5q9SFfC0uUEqYe/s640/First+++24.jpg" width="468" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: 'times new roman', serif;">The truth was that Henry Heth was one of Lee's favorites, the only staff officer the aristocratic Lee ever called by his first name. Having served Lee early in the war, Heth transferred to East Tennessee for a year, where he proved himself a brave field commander. Returning to the Army of Northern Virginia in the spring of 1863, Heth's aggressiveness, almost to the point of insubordination, mirrored his mentor's aggressive nature, and endeared him to General Lee. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkKsQtBFMattRtnk7Sekim6BXmZ_r1clUteCZid_DMWIwU5kMMACRQgJyvGeSpWFDH67Da81YzcvF3nu0RSL9LNwxEz989Z9hoFxUs6N3vjDf4Go7bJwI-21BLbYryDTM0AcNed4Jp6Z6P/s1600/First+++10.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkKsQtBFMattRtnk7Sekim6BXmZ_r1clUteCZid_DMWIwU5kMMACRQgJyvGeSpWFDH67Da81YzcvF3nu0RSL9LNwxEz989Z9hoFxUs6N3vjDf4Go7bJwI-21BLbYryDTM0AcNed4Jp6Z6P/s640/First+++10.jpg" width="458" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: 'times new roman', serif;">That Wednesday morning, A.P. Hill ordered a 2 division “reconnaissance in force”, and Heth volunteered his division to lead the march. And the unit General Heth picked for point was the 1,200 man brigade – 3 Tennessee and 2 Alabama regiments - commanded by his “Little Gamecock” - the 45 year old irascible Marylander Brigadier General James Jay Archer (above).</span></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR374d6ClPlshVUWKWdx002cXq6yvr91uhLJLqGnOmwjJfDvSlbN5hQdzWRrycykiU8h15Zpyu1jAktAcKl-lL8yFfVr6uN11HW5XJ_lvPGpUMfnkDVmxhWdc1_w1XBOD_yo44dLHqyv7-/s1600/First+++36.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="418" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR374d6ClPlshVUWKWdx002cXq6yvr91uhLJLqGnOmwjJfDvSlbN5hQdzWRrycykiU8h15Zpyu1jAktAcKl-lL8yFfVr6uN11HW5XJ_lvPGpUMfnkDVmxhWdc1_w1XBOD_yo44dLHqyv7-/s640/First+++36.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Second in line was the 2,000 man brigade – 3 Mississippi and 2 North Carolina regiments – under Brigadier General Joseph Robert Davis. Then came the understrength 2</span><sup><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">nd</span></sup><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"> Brigade of 4 Virginia regiments, about 800 men under 33 year old Colonel John Brockenbrough. And finally, punished by being regulated to the rear of Heth's division, was the largest brigade in the entire Confederate Army, the 2,500 men - in 4 North Carolina regiments – under the scholar and plantation owner, Brigadier General James Pettigrew. With his weight in his tail, it appears General Heth anticipated brushing aside the militia cavalry like annoying flies. Taking to the Chambersburg turnpike (above) about 2 hours behind Archer's brigade were the 6,700 man North Carolina division under 29 year old strict disciplinarian, Major General William Dorsey Pender.</span></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPoLNeScY8PBYqSiOg8rC4QmkfSGS9fMgqW2msYq_ftuwgfA0Jfb7kYVO_w6GUj06XmD2oys6UJ8-F-HzLVcHmAu_2_1U_W8cnQH9xLDiwSni-7VaHJ0OFRi25oi8Q5QrGpOshBORSQMU4/s1600/First+++38.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="526" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPoLNeScY8PBYqSiOg8rC4QmkfSGS9fMgqW2msYq_ftuwgfA0Jfb7kYVO_w6GUj06XmD2oys6UJ8-F-HzLVcHmAu_2_1U_W8cnQH9xLDiwSni-7VaHJ0OFRi25oi8Q5QrGpOshBORSQMU4/s640/First+++38.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: 'times new roman', serif;">Stepping off at about 6:00am, Archer's brigade moved at a route march – about 2 miles an hour - down the slope from Cashtown Pass toward Gettysburg. About 4 miles west of town – making it about 7:30am - the first shot was fired from atop Herr Ridge at the First Tennessee brigade, perhaps even at 25 year old Major </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman", serif;">Felix Grundy Buchanan. He threw his 281 men into a skirmish line centered on the road. But the outnumbered enemy pickets, armed with faster firing carbines, held their ground. So Heth was forced to throw his entire division into a line of battle on both sides of the Chambersburg Pike. Which took time.</span></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-MPzoRlcjHKJWs291Q9jqHMRtYDc5mQqd14InpoV8VEEdEgnvQP7Ojel0MRmzmZ7EbZFgf8_m9tiVVDZvCM13rEGQDGf2qU3Ll8V95w96yqxrVD3Jv2Y8Z9etNJld226tdpI1NojC0DO6/s1600/First+++51.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-MPzoRlcjHKJWs291Q9jqHMRtYDc5mQqd14InpoV8VEEdEgnvQP7Ojel0MRmzmZ7EbZFgf8_m9tiVVDZvCM13rEGQDGf2qU3Ll8V95w96yqxrVD3Jv2Y8Z9etNJld226tdpI1NojC0DO6/s640/First+++51.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: 'times new roman', serif;">First each regiment of Archer's 1,200 man brigade had to march in column to the head of the line of march. Then they “wheeled column left march” into the open ground south of the Pike. Each regiment then “double left oblique (marched) until they reached their position in the line of battle, when they faced FRONT, shouldering arms and dressing up...” And as soon as Archer's brigade had cleared the road, Davis' 2,000 man brigade had to do the same on the north side of the Chambersburg Pike. These were largely veterans, who had spent endless hours drilling these very maneuvers, but still it took time. And with the road finally cleared, Brockenbrough's half sized brigade came forward to occupy the center of the position in column.</span></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSOnlnN_laWENQrkQqbt8g57rI2vZ0jj9uEZDj6Jwt3NUgaXKt1tXjoFd3jOodxuICCX24ayRPFJnTV88nhMHu9w0RywU78i0Rp3zlswenKYFhHgHyUVaZNfMvqmlcSjuF3QaQwzhkUkJz/s1600/First+++46.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="508" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSOnlnN_laWENQrkQqbt8g57rI2vZ0jj9uEZDj6Jwt3NUgaXKt1tXjoFd3jOodxuICCX24ayRPFJnTV88nhMHu9w0RywU78i0Rp3zlswenKYFhHgHyUVaZNfMvqmlcSjuF3QaQwzhkUkJz/s640/First+++46.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: 'times new roman', serif;">The push up Herr Ridge finally began shortly after 8:00 that misty Wednesday morning. And with the advance of 3,000 men, the blue clad skirmishers grudgingly began to fall back – but not before their skill and tenacity convinced the rebels that these were not militia, but Federal regulars. Major General Heth remained unconvinced, but after capturing Herr Ridge he spread Lieutenant Colonel John Garnett's 4 batteries of artillery along the high ground to provide support for his men, as they flowed down the steep eastern face of the ridge into the tangle of wood along a creek called Willoughby Run.</span></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD_434ipnDu4cwIaMChMmMBKr_z2nrb5W3ZW32Fn9hR90_R91lODK0oNn3cBs1pK4tCaqrpcoV_tBBDvhkU-y9Vu30hll6UkjAn9AVUSdDj-sNGgM0-_UghGb6i2Qsi2aRIY7TDflLZlrN/s1600/First+++35.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD_434ipnDu4cwIaMChMmMBKr_z2nrb5W3ZW32Fn9hR90_R91lODK0oNn3cBs1pK4tCaqrpcoV_tBBDvhkU-y9Vu30hll6UkjAn9AVUSdDj-sNGgM0-_UghGb6i2Qsi2aRIY7TDflLZlrN/w640-h424/First+++35.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: 'times new roman', serif;">The first shot from Garnett's guns brought accurate return shots from Federal cannon. This caused the advance to pause again. Frustrated, Heth ordered his two brigades to push across the creek and up the next slope – McPherson's Ridge. This order brought General Archer to seek out his superior on the battlefield, where Heth's “Gamecock” urged caution. Might it not be better to bring forward Pettigrew's large brigade, to extend his line, before Archer or Davis sent their troops across the creek? The weight of Lee's orders to “Avoid all contact” could be felt in Archer's hesitancy.</span></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj20C1FDpneIDumFmCww7nHjlf28IciUwAX0RXbx_1TKaBZUHUfKW2FDzW_Vqh0JYuOGHrbP739rZFA-c_vb23s5tpy04Trx42GUyGZGgtiMgr3txtrEhnA94soEAS0zI63uaCxStERaSAr/s1600/1stmscav.gif" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj20C1FDpneIDumFmCww7nHjlf28IciUwAX0RXbx_1TKaBZUHUfKW2FDzW_Vqh0JYuOGHrbP739rZFA-c_vb23s5tpy04Trx42GUyGZGgtiMgr3txtrEhnA94soEAS0zI63uaCxStERaSAr/s640/1stmscav.gif" width="608" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: 'times new roman', serif;">But Heth's temper was now up. This was taking too much time. He was still convinced the Federal Army was still camped in Maryland, and not within a 2 day march from this place. And every suggestion he was mistaken, made him angrier. Any delay was unacceptable. General Heth ordered Archer and Davis to not only cross Willoughby Run and the slope, but capture the crest of McPherson's ridge as well.</span></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcosIscgby7kKEpqtRZ0IPMvXMhgK6L5as3mbJ1_oWkFjRqGj1txaOnwcH-cyuSXId4jGwkCH47jps0sVUKeWINUZiOH4DDQKkNXt1hdsF44vfYEjx5SbGPiJzx6xvdVG1QN8YjaA1MKdS/s1600/Genius+11.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcosIscgby7kKEpqtRZ0IPMvXMhgK6L5as3mbJ1_oWkFjRqGj1txaOnwcH-cyuSXId4jGwkCH47jps0sVUKeWINUZiOH4DDQKkNXt1hdsF44vfYEjx5SbGPiJzx6xvdVG1QN8YjaA1MKdS/w640-h424/Genius+11.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Henry Heth would write in his after action report, “It may not be improper to remark that at this time--9 o'clock on the morning of July 1--I was ignorant what force was at or near Gettysburg, and supposed it consisted of cavalry, most probably supported by a brigade or two of infantry. On reaching the summit...it became evident that there were infantry, cavalry, and artillery in and around the town. A few shots from...Marye's battery) scattered the cavalry vedettes...” </span><span style="font-family: 'times new roman', serif;">In point of fact, it did not. No Federal cavalry pickets (vedettes) anywhere on the Gettysburg battlefield scattered. They all withdrew as the trained, veteran soldiers they were.</span></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUt740q-F0jVWMi1Eahcl6qcJ4wX8G9gCGdSrVret2L3YhnWwF__BvADg0pRVvIptzjykNtknvaLjArNYCmaIvoijv_RPrqMf8OpMcHE-1adfQ6qvuHxT4xb7Imt57qM-2XBjtW__hFahK/s1600/First+++08.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUt740q-F0jVWMi1Eahcl6qcJ4wX8G9gCGdSrVret2L3YhnWwF__BvADg0pRVvIptzjykNtknvaLjArNYCmaIvoijv_RPrqMf8OpMcHE-1adfQ6qvuHxT4xb7Imt57qM-2XBjtW__hFahK/s640/First+++08.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Three miles to the east, in the high cupola of the Lutheran Theological Seminary, </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Brigadier General John Buford was watching the battle at Herr and McPherson ridges develop just as he had intended. In his after action report he wrote that </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">“Colonel (William) Gamble made an admirable line of battle....we having the advantage of position, he (Heth) of numbers. The First Brigade held its own for more than two hours, and had to be literally dragged back a few hundred yards to a position more secure and better sheltered.” At which point, Buford ordered his Second Battalion under Colonel Thomas Casimer Devin, to extend the battle line along the east side of Willoughby Run.</span></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvB8H-sPg5pdITdC3W9UsTtsMv4IBc_cmC01gHUTSLwxOUg_vO89wrHXMlYxubjoYIxaq4xLqEvG19cjtl72738f-uIyFs5czFbaSbLpEsdfxGBRcEdwmJ8X1HVpXddm4UX8JF0FWE-pX7/s1600/First+++35.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvB8H-sPg5pdITdC3W9UsTtsMv4IBc_cmC01gHUTSLwxOUg_vO89wrHXMlYxubjoYIxaq4xLqEvG19cjtl72738f-uIyFs5czFbaSbLpEsdfxGBRcEdwmJ8X1HVpXddm4UX8JF0FWE-pX7/s640/First+++35.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: 'times new roman', serif;">Buford knew he could not stop a rebel infantry division. And he knew that he was asking his men to sacrifice their bodies and risk their lives by standing in Heth's way this morning. But he knew it was worth the sacrifice because close behind him was the First Crops of the Army of the Potomac, under Major General John Reynolds. And because the position Buford was defending was not Herr ridge, nor McPherson Ridge, nor even Seminary Ridge. The position Buford was actually defending at Herr Ridge was 4 miles to the southwest - the higher Cemetery Ridge.</span></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrtkVS8TYW-TMhhw8o7qFk8P7CfD3ZMfVSU5ezb-1_kJEKdKXo70x5kjdecqESje88M02JDDOaKh0TlPENaLstN_cros86CJ-Kl_-HvNYRvSaZ14A_KtzS2vNbQyXMiftNbcEiicEb9iIY/s1600/images+%25281%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrtkVS8TYW-TMhhw8o7qFk8P7CfD3ZMfVSU5ezb-1_kJEKdKXo70x5kjdecqESje88M02JDDOaKh0TlPENaLstN_cros86CJ-Kl_-HvNYRvSaZ14A_KtzS2vNbQyXMiftNbcEiicEb9iIY/s400/images+%25281%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: 'times new roman', serif;">Every Federal Trooper under Buford (above) knew the ground they were defending. But by just after 9:00am, Wednesday, 1 July, the rebel officers, like Henry Heth, had at best a hazy idea of the ground they were asking their men to die for.</span></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbGkFreqGTJUekzXlB0nn8heICk8TP8n78EQmJYLTZtHRuuSiDTfc2t9_3f2q_ZNvDvDzuahZwtFbcwd2lTIUDUYD4AhgQUMmejWgQOdbYhfbx-6FHwgU_W6R3eDhZfDve_XiAvWSoCBg2/s1600/579px-Gettysburg_Day1_0700.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbGkFreqGTJUekzXlB0nn8heICk8TP8n78EQmJYLTZtHRuuSiDTfc2t9_3f2q_ZNvDvDzuahZwtFbcwd2lTIUDUYD4AhgQUMmejWgQOdbYhfbx-6FHwgU_W6R3eDhZfDve_XiAvWSoCBg2/s640/579px-Gettysburg_Day1_0700.png" width="618" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'times new roman', serif; text-align: left;"> <span style="font-size: large;">- 30 -</span></span></div></div>Kimit Mustonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03809428003905885379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5034791890201777099.post-75577167083411830082024-02-25T09:00:00.010-05:002024-02-25T09:00:00.135-05:00THE FIRST DAY Chapter Fifteen<p> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZRO_C1bP1FxWcTq-1WbM3o5G4jUAZrxOIrOPXHSMJpyTEcUde0zLS-MUre3Kf5-w9LIPjmlBJ7QssoxfDJMpHSItYOTMaytbJLyKR6Dv3Vg1SrumKwde0iI8EfOiAETxprSQHn_5DNwI/s1600/First+Shot+++23.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="402" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZRO_C1bP1FxWcTq-1WbM3o5G4jUAZrxOIrOPXHSMJpyTEcUde0zLS-MUre3Kf5-w9LIPjmlBJ7QssoxfDJMpHSItYOTMaytbJLyKR6Dv3Vg1SrumKwde0iI8EfOiAETxprSQHn_5DNwI/s1600/First+Shot+++23.jpg" width="640" /></a></p>I know that two years of campaigning had hardened private Marcellus Jones to the small discomforts, like sleeping through the night in “a drenching rain”, under a wet woolen blanket, with only his McClellan saddle as a pillow. But it took a toll, and an officer now, at 31 his body was beginning to protest such mornings. <div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8IaUXy161N9I9rrBmDYclf-2EmMRjJBncxEvj60lMiMaZcv1JB8mOdw7mUCIhY9Pe1xa52pv_bIzzeoltNFBnpPXFmzGTpVHMciQkEP1DO2qw1381DKuKoTZTGiAqsx-tPAet37iAgHKExRqqQt-j383T8bAnZC-Y2SDY15jLAq0YY2GbYSOlrMOhmQ/s274/Adams%20214.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="184" data-original-width="274" height="430" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8IaUXy161N9I9rrBmDYclf-2EmMRjJBncxEvj60lMiMaZcv1JB8mOdw7mUCIhY9Pe1xa52pv_bIzzeoltNFBnpPXFmzGTpVHMciQkEP1DO2qw1381DKuKoTZTGiAqsx-tPAet37iAgHKExRqqQt-j383T8bAnZC-Y2SDY15jLAq0YY2GbYSOlrMOhmQ/w640-h430/Adams%20214.jpg" width="640" /></a></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Waking just before dawn, to drizzle and fog, he rode forward to check the 35 men scattered along the McPherson's ridge skirmish line. But Marcellus found himself hungry for the warmth of comradeship. So after making certain that Privates Kelly, Hale, Heim and Dodge stationed in front of the blacksmith's house (above) along the pike were alert and ready....</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivVKFDzyJLBah6a5kZgiF6iEg7MGgyJq8kWP0wulshWrmGqiM7JFvOKB9nF66MNWnKAx6vTb2C15Ueum-lEvSe5gg5junc_5JSqGy1TRgBaw9DsXfsqkx1M22dHp57ZNdfTomxa3CjdmHasr6JQM_b-8sB7OroojmHSUAm0RluIVaezBsYL9H7-1WzTg/s1280/Adams%20215.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1003" data-original-width="1280" height="502" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivVKFDzyJLBah6a5kZgiF6iEg7MGgyJq8kWP0wulshWrmGqiM7JFvOKB9nF66MNWnKAx6vTb2C15Ueum-lEvSe5gg5junc_5JSqGy1TRgBaw9DsXfsqkx1M22dHp57ZNdfTomxa3CjdmHasr6JQM_b-8sB7OroojmHSUAm0RluIVaezBsYL9H7-1WzTg/w640-h502/Adams%20215.jpg" width="640" /></a></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">.., and sending Sargent George Shafer to check with the New York and Hoosier boys on the flanks, Second Lieutenant Marcellus Jones then trotted his horse 300 yards down the Chambersburg Pike across the Willow Run bridge and then another 300 yards up Herr's ridge, to the company headquarters in the tavern.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgRuDsEnKOx6vDGDkGN5FhipkwSUsN9wfHJDfmwLNB0pFRp1xsfTdM3pQZVKdwHiRP65r-aaAab7kyLdy2S-0FSSjXqpYTR5_nQ6nBz8qeufuTzi5uCDmcWCnAzcWZOmQla3IYG_BAyeg/s1600/First+Shot+++03.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgRuDsEnKOx6vDGDkGN5FhipkwSUsN9wfHJDfmwLNB0pFRp1xsfTdM3pQZVKdwHiRP65r-aaAab7kyLdy2S-0FSSjXqpYTR5_nQ6nBz8qeufuTzi5uCDmcWCnAzcWZOmQla3IYG_BAyeg/s1600/First+Shot+++03.jpg" width="333" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Marcellus Jones (above) was proof that American lives do indeed have second acts, and even thirds. At 17 the blue eyed 5'7” seventh child of a Vermont wagon maker worked his way across upstate New York and Ohio as a carpenter. By 1854 he had established his own factory in the Wolf River village of Weyauwega, in Wisconsin territory . He met with success and on May 1, 1856 he married Sara Reese. Then, two years later, the factory burned down leaving him $4,000 in debt, and soon after Sara died in childbirth. Marcellus was not yet 30.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji1Ss9eRKCNiHMC_bkoVAR1a2_5kW0K2x87k7MjUZJXVVrNHh5pVifPpVl66fL1Ho79vBbTvSwCPb8JK_Zx6-HT-TDslq6OsutUOlg0mt9gIUDo3NAbwvQ-tWMqc4o4BZqN3JUJ8A97HoFqCJBLznJYFexcB5WnZ808nQXEbRlVyJG7AjCWG4-h0qIWQ/s322/Adams%20216.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="278" data-original-width="322" height="552" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji1Ss9eRKCNiHMC_bkoVAR1a2_5kW0K2x87k7MjUZJXVVrNHh5pVifPpVl66fL1Ho79vBbTvSwCPb8JK_Zx6-HT-TDslq6OsutUOlg0mt9gIUDo3NAbwvQ-tWMqc4o4BZqN3JUJ8A97HoFqCJBLznJYFexcB5WnZ808nQXEbRlVyJG7AjCWG4-h0qIWQ/w640-h552/Adams%20216.jpg" width="640" /></a></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Seventy-six year old Fredrick Herr had bought his two story brick tavern at a sheriff's sale, 35 years ago, expecting the Chambersburg Pike to bring business to his door. But Herr was forced to rent his basement to a felon named “Louie The Robber”, who shaved the silver off silver dollars. Herr even had to rent the second floor to prostitutes. But, Louie was arrested, Fredrick lost his liquor license, and the upstairs ladies had to move on.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDBYdOh4TW01vG4_rloeAj68DekRaewDUOxwOe3RojtLOlds22bRFTkDTivwbN8k4pV32u8uSR4qrKDE11_hV1r8oRth-p5oLxXwD5H7vTTyucm1fg_gbsvfDXvrzJzCtAQcQvTY2VE20/s1600/First+Shot+++42.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="630" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDBYdOh4TW01vG4_rloeAj68DekRaewDUOxwOe3RojtLOlds22bRFTkDTivwbN8k4pV32u8uSR4qrKDE11_hV1r8oRth-p5oLxXwD5H7vTTyucm1fg_gbsvfDXvrzJzCtAQcQvTY2VE20/s1600/First+Shot+++42.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">By the time Marcellus scrapped the mud off his boots on the front steps, the hotel was up for sale again. Inside, Lt Jones was greeted by his friend and E company's commander, Captain Elishas Kelly. The familiarity and the coffee were free, but Marcellus had to pay Mrs. Herr for a hot biscuit.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhryVuoIHAxCpW9r4grmSEdiyhp8aPBrFdwEiGD3HseLhbKvtBJV0JmhrvVCKZd7HnG0wyFp_SJMbH-AQdNpfD_T3R9cPQxpQfffdCmw_VXQ-nQ1yL4ObzoBYp6Bw0e39_UZ4On7YkbKzU/s1600/First+Shot+++51.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="513" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhryVuoIHAxCpW9r4grmSEdiyhp8aPBrFdwEiGD3HseLhbKvtBJV0JmhrvVCKZd7HnG0wyFp_SJMbH-AQdNpfD_T3R9cPQxpQfffdCmw_VXQ-nQ1yL4ObzoBYp6Bw0e39_UZ4On7YkbKzU/s1600/First+Shot+++51.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">After Sara's death, Marcellus made a new life for himself as a builder in Danby, Illinois, and became a respected member of the local Republican party. In the spring of 1860, after Lincoln called for Volunteers to defend the union, Marcellus joined with his friend Elishas, fellow builder William Gamble and Congressman John Farnsworth in forming the 8th Illinois Volunteer Cavalry, also known as “Farnsworth's Big Abolitionist Regiment” When offered an officers ' commission Marcellus said he wanted to learn the trade as a private. And thus began Marcellus Jones' second life, as a trooper in the federal Army of the Potomac.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2U42LNnXtHuK-44PGIV0_sqfqdFkTeIlT9uDAP1l5eJVEFkqwcWm_6VIW-gs7IE5sjDZIaLiZfjj_GSpJVLFxoD6oLkN8K60zW99cvaJpUWfg3Euq9fInyeCtjcwGPB_olGI4JosAW1E/s1600/First+Shot++11++Shafer.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2U42LNnXtHuK-44PGIV0_sqfqdFkTeIlT9uDAP1l5eJVEFkqwcWm_6VIW-gs7IE5sjDZIaLiZfjj_GSpJVLFxoD6oLkN8K60zW99cvaJpUWfg3Euq9fInyeCtjcwGPB_olGI4JosAW1E/s1600/First+Shot++11++Shafer.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Marcellus had just bitten into his breakfast when Private George Heim came pounding up the steps. He announced that Sargent Shafer (above) needed the lieutenant at the picket post at once. Stuffing the biscuit into his blouse, Jones ran for the door, while Kelly sent the regiment's battle cry of “Tally Ho” after him. </span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBdrfOJlxEVA-1NPoCsL5380sVSP_sV7jztt2JC2ZTCjSjhxj_uiGQmlGtfBvaKGn8_Vt4qNzmcvWLYyqEQZVlR8WfoxpuXVijP_ahORe1ispDEYtiEPi0q7yVQg1wbhD8nSf6omBiz00pKX2Bbp-cKiAm_2jbjjEgCHHCLfb5sUBLpO-g1Ih1roG9tw/s1024/Adams%20213.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="577" data-original-width="1024" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBdrfOJlxEVA-1NPoCsL5380sVSP_sV7jztt2JC2ZTCjSjhxj_uiGQmlGtfBvaKGn8_Vt4qNzmcvWLYyqEQZVlR8WfoxpuXVijP_ahORe1ispDEYtiEPi0q7yVQg1wbhD8nSf6omBiz00pKX2Bbp-cKiAm_2jbjjEgCHHCLfb5sUBLpO-g1Ih1roG9tw/w640-h360/Adams%20213.jpg" width="640" /></a></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Somebody looked at their watch. It was just twenty after seven in the morning. Marcellus mounted his horse, and then he and Heim splashed through puddles back over the Willow Run bridge at a gallop.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYTSQH1ZAOr-Kg80BBjoHFzWtf-_GAZaPJ2rhLrdkD9rNUK2NhtCR17MUcO17A2299wbF_e5ntsPp9GnTBtezsRg-sABMAbtJbMbvogNWJcUgeiBywFZS7Cdk4Jdp3E7DqSLYVWNop2ro/s1600/First+Shot+++33.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="234" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYTSQH1ZAOr-Kg80BBjoHFzWtf-_GAZaPJ2rhLrdkD9rNUK2NhtCR17MUcO17A2299wbF_e5ntsPp9GnTBtezsRg-sABMAbtJbMbvogNWJcUgeiBywFZS7Cdk4Jdp3E7DqSLYVWNop2ro/s1600/First+Shot+++33.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">The infantry were fond of saying they never saw a dead cavalryman. In fact private Marcellus Jones and the Illinois 8th were in constant contact with Jeb Stuart's rebel cavalry, probing for weaknesses and information, studying the bloody trade for “twenty long, weary months”, back and forth across “the God-forsaken soils of old Virginia.” But they learned. And on Tuesday, June 9. 1863, the union First Cavalry Division (including the 500 men of the 8th) surprised and embarrassed Stuart at Brandy Station, Virginia. At the end of June, at Hanover, Pennsylvania, union cavalry even shoved Stuart aside, leaving Robert E. Lee's advancing rebel Army of Northern Virginia vulnerable and groping blind. </span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwHvjXkqj1ZUX6fIpPhpbJCh9JBNY-1AgZZBQgiOmGXMqmum_qvDyI9BWMztXuQs91a7xO0pH-hcveSv3aMAEdG-uZZ_lZ9QDhCdy6Y8KNZFRu5UR3iFAs6BL5gczDo9hHZuj4XMsC7nFGQdM61qP7TRk84yiserjU5NSWEWTYxZriOY2oWGcYyD1Ixg/s2048/Adams%20212.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1092" data-original-width="2048" height="342" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwHvjXkqj1ZUX6fIpPhpbJCh9JBNY-1AgZZBQgiOmGXMqmum_qvDyI9BWMztXuQs91a7xO0pH-hcveSv3aMAEdG-uZZ_lZ9QDhCdy6Y8KNZFRu5UR3iFAs6BL5gczDo9hHZuj4XMsC7nFGQdM61qP7TRk84yiserjU5NSWEWTYxZriOY2oWGcYyD1Ixg/w640-h342/Adams%20212.jpg" width="640" /></a></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Before eight in the morning of 1 July as same day as Marcellus approached his picket line atop the ridge, ringing in their ears was the prediction of his craggy Division commander, General John Buford: “Within forty-eight hours a great battle will take place on a field within view.”</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXad8M0COz7wWgdtxBqQMvyv7OKpjLAfv-eEfNobnwXrOB5ivkHAD89GhAqdX2gEQs_8gqGBdhco7HRWChHcyqADJvWr9Pyc-WGWzcuCUb9b66eJQ7Hu1b3f4IMQx00SWnsvwUUlRTy1c/s1600/First+Shot+++52.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="420" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXad8M0COz7wWgdtxBqQMvyv7OKpjLAfv-eEfNobnwXrOB5ivkHAD89GhAqdX2gEQs_8gqGBdhco7HRWChHcyqADJvWr9Pyc-WGWzcuCUb9b66eJQ7Hu1b3f4IMQx00SWnsvwUUlRTy1c/s1600/First+Shot+++52.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">As they approached the crest, where the Knoxlyn Road ran into the Chambersburg Pike, Lt. Jones and Pvt. Heim pulled up their horses in front of the two story brick home of blacksmith Epharaim Wisler and his family (above). Handing their reins to private Dodge, Hiem and Jones joined Sgt. Shafer behind the split rail and stone (above, mid-distance center) fence along the crest. The Sargent handed Jones a spyglass, and explained, “There's that old familiar flag.” Seven hundred yards down the gentle western slope, Marcellus could make out the indistinct form of men in column on the Chambersburg Pike. And they were coming directly at him.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio1q6w-yv86XVXfuIjaLY9tygb57VJlkPs929ZM_YdzOJVN3rmZC6G1tPsqiUcF8R0PPt9gQoziDZ1q8Emv-Nw5BCwItpE3oqPqfydwzD8O6k1fIIli1OIMoVr-wxARxL5vhRzXvUtCBA/s1600/First+Shot+++56.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="417" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio1q6w-yv86XVXfuIjaLY9tygb57VJlkPs929ZM_YdzOJVN3rmZC6G1tPsqiUcF8R0PPt9gQoziDZ1q8Emv-Nw5BCwItpE3oqPqfydwzD8O6k1fIIli1OIMoVr-wxARxL5vhRzXvUtCBA/s1600/First+Shot+++56.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">The third corps of the Army of Northern Virginia had crossed the Potomac River beginning on Tuesday, 23 June, but despite outward appearances this was not an invasion. It was a 73,000 man foraging expedition, each disconnected part searching for supplies no longer available in war ravaged Virginia. On Friday, 26 June a brigade of rebels under Major General Jubal Early had entered Gettysburg via this same Chambersburg Pike (above), frightened off some Pennsylvania militia and confiscated 2,000 rations from railroad cars. But the next morning the rebels had to move on, looking to feed and clothe themselves for another day. When Buford's cavalry trotted into Gettysburg two days later, there were no rebels present, and the union First Cavalry division was now in the very middle of the disjointed Confederate army.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFLK-MFEz3HvyrKAC_Drn0smK-N7jpK6ErB7YWhi93SSbRAHOv1DU3QXrfjyXB5beX1bSi5GD5WyipYQwt-Ta9DOovqA-3m5c9ii4gvy0DUhrfJsVv1smH1PZjA2z2VNpWJFdIyoQQcE4/s1600/First+Shot+++37.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFLK-MFEz3HvyrKAC_Drn0smK-N7jpK6ErB7YWhi93SSbRAHOv1DU3QXrfjyXB5beX1bSi5GD5WyipYQwt-Ta9DOovqA-3m5c9ii4gvy0DUhrfJsVv1smH1PZjA2z2VNpWJFdIyoQQcE4/s1600/First+Shot+++37.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Out of the corner of his eye, Jones realized Sargent Shafer had lifted his Spencer carbine to his shoulder. Marcellus knew the carbine had little chance of hitting anything over 150 yards, and the Marsh Creek Bridge was about 700 yards away. But the sound of the shot would carry back to Herr's tavern at 640 miles an hour, and from there word would quickly be sent up the chain of command - Rebel soldiers are coming down the Chambersburg Pike. And just as quickly it would tell the rebels they were facing armed men. Without cavalry, the enemy infantry would have to deploy, and probe, slowing their advance to a crawl. Marcellus Jones held out his arm. He told the sergeant, “'Hold on, George. Give me the honor of opening the ball.” Reluctantly Sargent Shafer handed over his carbine.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpTyS5gE-NDjafopNUBsbuzCUHvmyNITDSbCDuP4DNUk5ldmtSn1ILuDxiGnAIRJ1Z2_CS2kHvnlKse9atmYreARpnftXGjWGUV9XOkGuoCRhXfxL15xG-ZmMtRkZ3J3Lkc6Up4AfSoAo/s1600/First+Shot+++05.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="526" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpTyS5gE-NDjafopNUBsbuzCUHvmyNITDSbCDuP4DNUk5ldmtSn1ILuDxiGnAIRJ1Z2_CS2kHvnlKse9atmYreARpnftXGjWGUV9XOkGuoCRhXfxL15xG-ZmMtRkZ3J3Lkc6Up4AfSoAo/s1600/First+Shot+++05.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Laying the weapon in a crook of the rail fence, Lt. Jones aimed at what he took to be “an officer on a white or light gray horse”, just beyond the Marsh Creek bridge. The troops in column were 105 Alabama rebels under Colonel Birkett Davenport Fry, lead element of General James Pettigrew's brigade, advance party for Major General Henry Heth's 7,500 man division. Heath had come down this road foraging for shoes for his men. Without cavalry, Heth had no way of knowing his own third corps had learned three days earlier there were no shoes in Gettysburg. But when Lt. Marcellus Jones pulled the trigger on the Spencer, the CRACK snapped everyone to attention. </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">And Marcellus' second shot confirmed the shock.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4vlwiBmRIlOTe60bQxdtos_F5mvVB_RLSBXbwvCLUfj-AAT-fFseZF_3zkWb6tcsJrkF9nQAafxUqkioOOFrzebdNoe4xiLv_q2pdt7ixgVlrsyylqpZyVprP9etqFz571ZJwg_ImlME/s1600/First+Shot+++27.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="258" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4vlwiBmRIlOTe60bQxdtos_F5mvVB_RLSBXbwvCLUfj-AAT-fFseZF_3zkWb6tcsJrkF9nQAafxUqkioOOFrzebdNoe4xiLv_q2pdt7ixgVlrsyylqpZyVprP9etqFz571ZJwg_ImlME/s1600/First+Shot+++27.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Expecting they were faced by untrained militia, Fry's rebels crossed the Marsh Creek bridge and spread out in a skirmish line on either side of the Chambersburg Pike. That took twenty minutes. When they then advanced, they were forced back by rapid fire from the 35 breech loading Spencers of Jone's concentrated skirmish line. In the pause which followed, Epharaim Wisler stepped out of his house to judge if his family was in greater danger staying or running. As he stood in the middle of the Pike, two Parrot guns from Willie Pegram's rebel battery fired at the ridge line, expecting the militia there to scatter and run.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYB5TVMCcHN83gJlfC_fFcjMAV6ljo4sWEhOHTI7vqGKOjdeAts9776myl_sz65ewm3lYPKGIuwc59O5SSI8Rxe7mbauC_UDnXjseAcpPjhtUBVLWbgOk4b6XwIesJ2lTREy1BLmY7sIs/s1600/First++Shot+++49.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYB5TVMCcHN83gJlfC_fFcjMAV6ljo4sWEhOHTI7vqGKOjdeAts9776myl_sz65ewm3lYPKGIuwc59O5SSI8Rxe7mbauC_UDnXjseAcpPjhtUBVLWbgOk4b6XwIesJ2lTREy1BLmY7sIs/s1600/First++Shot+++49.png" width="500" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">The first shell was long, but the second was right on target. </span>Wisler<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"> (above) saw it leave the gun 1,000 yards beyond Marsh Creek, watched mesmerized as it sailed directly at him, and saw it plow into the road ten yards in front of him. The concussion knocked </span>Epharaim<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"> down, and showered him with broken earth and stones. The 31 year old farmer, blacksmith, husband and father of two young boys was physically uninjured. His scars were emotional. He staggered to his feet and back into his house. He took to his bed and never left it until he died a month later. He was the first casualty of the coming apocalypse.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjROU9Gh6GmWGGNbcizxaPKls4ztZkzMpgogkEEUTE7oCwnKRDIJauTsjWM4WHCTJ5m8B-JP75HaZ0ImMp_q74n1HCynDPQMttv-nvTneXC7j8MfUK2i4B4BA-N2Q0Gqlqy2IxkzfcbTvY/s1600/First+Shot+++25.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="308" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjROU9Gh6GmWGGNbcizxaPKls4ztZkzMpgogkEEUTE7oCwnKRDIJauTsjWM4WHCTJ5m8B-JP75HaZ0ImMp_q74n1HCynDPQMttv-nvTneXC7j8MfUK2i4B4BA-N2Q0Gqlqy2IxkzfcbTvY/s1600/First+Shot+++25.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">When the reinforced rebel infantry advanced again, an hour later, they were met by 275 veterans under William Gamble. The federals did not run even though outnumbered, but kept up their rapid fire . Again the rebels were thrown back. More rebel artillery was brought forward. More rebel infantry was thrown into line. Another hour was bought, while the First Cavalry division was concentrating, and federal infantry marched closer. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglwVSNgeu72JDEt2xCmxEE2l-XVEZZtjveUNTlrV4Y6OVsafbnlxikZ6jqcZhHS16Mew18Q6MbhZjbFyKrtSLuRrKgQMte80MLRdHR-BFelNeFEdavrlsPqe2Nqvuq3ooY9irfZB4crJg/s1600/First+Shot+++12.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglwVSNgeu72JDEt2xCmxEE2l-XVEZZtjveUNTlrV4Y6OVsafbnlxikZ6jqcZhHS16Mew18Q6MbhZjbFyKrtSLuRrKgQMte80MLRdHR-BFelNeFEdavrlsPqe2Nqvuq3ooY9irfZB4crJg/s1600/First+Shot+++12.png" width="624" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">T</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">his time, as the rebels advanced in even greater numbers, the federal cavalry fell back toward Herr's ridge, where the process would be repeated, with larger numbers. And after Herr ridge came McPherson's ridge, where union infantry under General James Reynolds would slam into the rebel lines and throw them back. And after McPherson's ridge would come Seminary Ridge, and then Missionary Ridge and Cemetery Hill and ridge, </span>Culps<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"> Hill and Little Round Top.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnAAmNJJcORd7kB7F2TFz1r8sBCuE4fz4IYmOenYSuVGVbuPOX4mbGyWPI4jW8i0i_PYpIy5za_ciJIcUGECsfz4cehtFAv4gnWiF9tQv64gAiMW5fh07HWYRIdXVXwOnFMnq364wRmH0/s1600/First+Shot+++53.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="144" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnAAmNJJcORd7kB7F2TFz1r8sBCuE4fz4IYmOenYSuVGVbuPOX4mbGyWPI4jW8i0i_PYpIy5za_ciJIcUGECsfz4cehtFAv4gnWiF9tQv64gAiMW5fh07HWYRIdXVXwOnFMnq364wRmH0/s1600/First+Shot+++53.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Over the next three days some 7,863 men would be killed outright, 14,146 would be wounded, and another 11,199 men would be taken prisoner or reported missing from their units. It was the greatest single man-made disaster to have ever happened in North America. It was the Battle of Gettysburg. And it all began with the first shot that hit nothing, by Lt. Marcellus Jones, fired at about 7:30 in the morning of Wednesday, July 1st, 1863.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDiFF6NnNDtsama0XS-7L1d2k66SRyfkP7FBgMq8Lalw5sJGE5TkAwxsmWYlwpSh53e4Kr_mzUZ90NA8IFct4mYq21CQOck1pv7eiJwqo-AwIT-iXCmVbzi4hxziJwgGlJRXsHDl-lIv8/s1600/First+Shot+++01.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDiFF6NnNDtsama0XS-7L1d2k66SRyfkP7FBgMq8Lalw5sJGE5TkAwxsmWYlwpSh53e4Kr_mzUZ90NA8IFct4mYq21CQOck1pv7eiJwqo-AwIT-iXCmVbzi4hxziJwgGlJRXsHDl-lIv8/s1600/First+Shot+++01.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">- 30 -</span></div>Kimit Mustonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03809428003905885379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5034791890201777099.post-77813214862013619752024-02-24T09:00:00.033-05:002024-02-24T09:00:00.133-05:00The First Day Chapter Fourteen<p><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/5034791890201777099/1714573726621256065#"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpKj8svdBr7xSzBIcDtObfz4W9uTVRAIj2tQLxBa_XEucqG7-CasOtfuHeq-TUWyjJU3Mp1VlBdw4bTQlgyiCUb7vuS9h3mbay4aoeGrb3nnUEbW5wPtpIjTb5BILDdAyUWwilpabPuDE/s640/MASON+DIXON+MARKER.jpg" /></a></p>I suppose one reason the 1,600 residents of Hanover, Pennsylvania suffered such trauma on the last day of June, 1863 was because just five miles south were the white stone Mason Dixon line markers (above), the official divide, since 1781, between slave and free. But what happened in Hanover on that Tuesday, was mostly the result of the hubris of a 31 year old southern "cavalier", trying to recapture a glory gone a year - which is a long time in a war.<br /><br /><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/5034791890201777099/1714573726621256065#"><img border="0" height="438" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4-pTEGn61ilBiFk2WB1IUeSMlqU4v_6yG2nqN0BvxTYMIy3YBCoWwRj3RcHdTCMAj_jb3Ki9J1pBSTHm8C2TNTELeIBxN1WNCYYkFAVPOU2OqHYKAPzkiyPzxsNSPKH4rCUBiOL-Hwhqz/w640-h438/Hanover+++23.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />It began at about 8:00 on that Tuesday morning, 30 June, 1863, when the 1st and 7th regiments of Michigan volunteer cavalry cantered up the Baltimore turnpike into Hanover (above).<br /><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/5034791890201777099/1714573726621256065#"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmfu5MmC6DAZX7YEyB1j5Sp-vIJ8KObFnoOf6fN6b3XFD-cTeXJCEK2Seeor7dHuY-nqRWewDGBvuAms3Ah_7qnt_8zAX69lo2V4TGG8TLBLzpY6D226xJ4-W-U5m4iuvB29sPZkKLAbcp/s640/Hanover+++11++square.jpg" /></a><br />The Wolverines halted in the city square (above) to rest their horses. Their newly promoted commander, General George Armstrong Custer, ordered most his men to dismount and posted sentries on all the roads into town. It was standard military procedure, learned after two years of bloody war, and was followed even when moving through the solid union blue state of Pennsylvania.<br /><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/5034791890201777099/1714573726621256065#"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxsIB1KJRBlH9DisIH52tvEk-SjtrKYZjrLDqshZXDuggtcjezscX5Y0eJgDhJb3recyP4jXinGZH0s_GhLHwerYBZx5_cztzCubbKVMrGpkFesmLKlHXly-K-20_9nfFfr9uhFP9etU-M/w445-h640/Hanover+++27.jpg" width="445" /></a><br />Meanwhile, the newly appointed commander of the 3rd Federal Cavalry Division, Brigadier General Judson Kilpatrick (above), greeted the townsfolk and asked for information. They told him that three days ago rebel infantry and cavalry had brushed aside state militia 20 miles to the west, in the town of Gettysburg. But no rebels had been seen or heard of since. Kilpatrick thanked them, but he suspected there were still rebel sympathizers s in the area.<br /><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/5034791890201777099/1714573726621256065#"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzz0m6yfjVKH5HrQPZfd6MnzPtGqK9OIHGV6cqIJ0wIRStlkMsqA4qU_nOfTT03C0I-csBNqIf_dfwhvh6qK347gawLEb8WAbH1odpnQD9surak-_A8x6TbBSsjPvJ_ipANW7tMouhc3oF/s640/Hanover+++18++Farnsworth.jpg" /></a><br />Like a well oiled machine, before 8:30, the pickets on the Baltimore Pike reported the arrival of the 1st West Virginia Union Cavalry, under the newly promoted Union General Elon John Farnsworth (above). <a href="https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/5034791890201777099/1714573726621256065#"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHWjcTd2dfN1GiDB9wNSQv6qnJYpHmEOBjWLE8SC04QpdtSE97JdZG5BKlnEBXwP-SzUdxn8xryjjSFbbh4zGCKJSUqOzJRRIP2-8HcO_RrCGVGYIXBPrWKSKyohRpSqqPVOEvfuz8zogY/s640/Hanover+++10++abbottstown+st.jpg" /></a><br />The Michigan men now remounted and continued to up the road (above) to the northeast, toward the Pigeon Hills and Abbottstown beyond. They left just as the West Virginians entered the town square, who replaced the Michigan pickets on all roads leading out of Hanover. This accordion march, leading units not advancing until the following units had closed up, had been practiced since the Romans had advanced against the Carthaginians, 2,000 years before. And it was now preformed smoothly and machine like. The Union Army had learned its value, after three years of war.<br /><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/5034791890201777099/1714573726621256065#"><img border="0" height="507" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoQ6x9G_D3LK1NWsNOkKZGWTSCsrzGo0azehIM-kr341tT9MCocW2S_ZU39yHlPqH0ne5kcSi0ply7bPBaBYc6le8kPo3Fu1rmuQUIyMRblPTCaKQJBiWacRYc3iS3WLYnPEP4vlsq-C9G/w640-h507/Hanover+++28.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />In their turn the West Virginians were replaced in the central square of Hanover by the 5th New York Cavalry Regiment (above). And about 11 A.M, bringing up the rear of the division, the 18th Pennsylvania Cavalry Regiment rode into Hanover. As they did, the main body of the New Yorkers mounted up and, in their turn, began to head north, toward Abbottstown.<br /><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/5034791890201777099/1714573726621256065#"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEictCfTGk6-LQJpGcnvs1AV-kLtJ5U_HkDURkSVoV4ihuNjUnvy45KAHeRD66mxRrA3_7lluhRtPqbrgaQx6CLv-Gh4tPhN_xMU_y3bAijtyVv8_TtsbeUWwZviHSv2JebLcpPxV1Bd-HNn/s640/Hanover+++03.jpg" /></a><br />Pennsylvanian Captain Henry C. Potter, commanding companies L and M - about 40 men - relieved the New York pickets southwest of Hanover, out on the road to Fredrick (lower left, above) at a spot known locally as Mudtown . The New York officer informed Captain Potter they had just seen a handful of suspicious acting men lurking at the edge of a wood just down the road. And when the New York boys left, Captain Potter decided to investigate. Being the tail of the division, it was Potter's duty to protect the 3rd Division's supply trains. And performing that duty, Potter took ten men and rode down the road, to see what they could see. <a href="https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/5034791890201777099/1714573726621256065#"><img border="0" height="448" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXetCCw9aRt-Aw7ctTzSg61tJwgJyY7-1dspmKtKOC6H9nwsU3ZfUyMBZhllR5DKPSSvx4hvvFrqQwyj9H6z0n7vIdew9wY0n52nsKVwkm-Os7JoI4xKZceS5V7SWyvIyLOUvCCNlBdQy7/w640-h448/Hanover+++31.jpg" width="640" /></a><br /><br />Three miles down the Fredrick road, at the small farm owned by the Butts family (above), Potter and his men were suddenly cutoff by 60 mounted men in grey who appeared behind him. They were members of the 2nd North Carolina cavalry, under Lieutenant Colonel William Henry Fitzhugh Payne. These rebels demanded that Potter surrender. Instead, Potter ordered his men to draw their pistols and they charged back up the road, bursting through the startled Rebel line, killing one Confederate trooper and wounding several others.<br /><br /><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/5034791890201777099/1714573726621256065#"><img border="0" height="454" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5Elp_oLu8KeINdXuQSW1XpKWZBpa5IQAKAE_eMo-iPPxDgorkJ0mEupVILz2zGwE8r84Obcnpznxe0-fqQaYSYZM0YydsBUe-25rKqZMvE5ys4E9oysewPMh4h6V8Y7RMB4ag9dUS1aSX/w640-h454/Hanover+++32.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />Four of the Pennsylvania men were also killed,. the first to fall probably being 24 year old Corporal John Hoffacker (above). John had two brothers, the eldest being William who had joined the 3rd Maryland Infantry regiment in mid-1862. In September that same year John quit his job at a York, Pennsylvania paper mill and signed up with the 18th Pennsylvania. And now he was the first trooper to die in the "Battle of Hanover", not many miles west of York. Despite these losses, the remaining six men under Captain Potter raced back up the Fredrick Road.. The rebels gave chase. It was just about 10:15 in the morning.<img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP3JcRxjV92uTtK3_UGW8j1BLByo4DVzmo5EJQsL9LVZI8kOijBbrtMOmQEn9lS4s4AIxlDwagg8e6DZy9XJRJLJcU2gFY8Qf5Jmvqkd0CL7_KhPipkTeUrXcmHPN54DMhcdkyFm2O5rM/w570-h640/mh-confed-cavalry-01.jpg" width="570" /><div>It became a three mile gallop across the countryside, both sides firing wildly. As the pursuit neared Hanover it uncovered the men Potter had left behind.<br /><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/5034791890201777099/1714573726621256065#"><img border="0" height="513" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv_Z3B_ZYLB8r3rkSaUogRD6DkCD9orepbjG2onnHpBT6ZO5iOCKAL6c8S8bUzKsj70Q9nfVbmWuiSQ7EQxchv6gxYaEmjienj_QWDDq76ragpt76jyk7HJ4ddE4JVtna1yWGgTvo4GJJQ/w640-h513/Hanover+++05.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />Their seven shot carbines forced the Confederates to pause. But as more rebel horsemen from the 2nd North Carolina and battalion commander Colonel John R. Chambliss's 13th Virginia regiment, arrived, they charged the federal skirmish line. Fortuitously, rebel artillery appeared, and added their fire to the assault. The blast of those rebel cannon caught the attention of General Pleasanton, who happened to riding with the tail end of the West Virginians. Pleasanton immediately sent word to Custer to bring his Michigan men back to Hanover at once, and then drove his horse at a gallop back to town, followed by the West Virginians.<br /><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/5034791890201777099/1714573726621256065#"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLK9lsM93y664F4u16ZHw9lRXtxNKMy9uvx89QF1YV6OqvnE2Uy1Wu6iEayhibJ0ojpHDbsDbUVgyF8UkIhtHTtJ6RumoOiprjk1pJxgEKKjS9QbaiYJ2C-Pd0yQVUAS6Wtd91XKbMnmy8/s640/Hanover+++12.jpg" /></a><br />The center square of Hanover was already jammed with the federal cavalry division’s supply train and ambulances, as well as the rear guard of the 5th New York, which had yet to leave town. General Farnsworth was trying to disentangle the one from the other, when he was overrun by his own retreating New Yorkers, with the rebels pressing closely behind.<br /><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/5034791890201777099/1714573726621256065#"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5YGxdjMajlA1KInl2JHcSoYHZvn0c7ZBzzuubkz0khQseg7qPEd6G3w8Jxe-ZO8nht22ZnxyucqtaCuLwDKs4IbZ4ybMwi3km_YOBZpp0oA8CSjiE1ATQeFlOf2yNWpd_g6hrG-Ft2u2F/w640-h640/Hanover+++34.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />Also riding to the sound of the guns was the Confederate cavalry commander, Brigadier General James Ewell Brown "Jeb" Stuart (above) . The son of a Virginia planter, he had earned the nickname "Beauty" at West Point despite a chin " so short and retiring" he later grew a full beard to hide it. He had earned fame the year before when his 1,200 rebel troopers rode completely around the Union Army. Critics would grouse that the effort had been more publicity stunt than effective operation, just a "Big horse raid". But Union pride was so bruised, the federals reorganized their cavalry, determined to find men who could fight Stuart to a stop.<br /><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/5034791890201777099/1714573726621256065#"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOOcbnK45iGAxNoBjugIAwZZ6LHBA-9MQ8Br0BRFjrVDP8iBg4QBbMAClD8o1MHpb6PLMBoFiIvhu9oQQol7gJ15gbJzqrkZOg4CvhWkWW04CFy-rihmWc0XyR4jUDi7_l6G25OIb8-Kfs/s640/Hanover+++37.jpg" /></a><br />At Brandy Station, Virginia, on Tuesday, 9 June, 1863, (above) Stuart's 9,000 troopers had been surprised by the 8,000 federal troopers under General Pleasanton. The blue coats had shown skill and audacity. And although Stuart held the field, he had been embarrassed. General Lee's advance into Pennsylvania would be his chance at redemption.<br /><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/5034791890201777099/1714573726621256065#"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbGDuHCR0juAvbLWJ5t0EAdi_hsAAhsQ-VW90bCrD__GCfiQCObavGxOhQzoGuKPymsCU7NxUDAlqDQD17zjjnHM4oGuzpeF1d2Kf6a8LyIkD2Rv7rr1oDp-f1XhaPdLj2QYxvFiAL7U5c/w389-h640/Hanover+++35.jpg" width="389" /></a><br />But the dashing Stuart (above) was now hampered, forced to leave half his strength behind by the reality of the war. General Robert E. Lee ordered Stuart to "feel the right of General Ewell's troops" on his advance and "collect all the supplies you can for the army." The march into Pennsylvania would have to show a profit to prove worth the effort and risk. The advance of every corps in Lee's army would be slowed by empty wagons, which they expected to fill with flour and corn, coffee and beans. And Stuart's 3 brigades - 6,000 men - would be burdened by some 100 wagons filled with supplies - like oats for his horses - he had just captured in Maryland , and which had to be protected by Fitzhugh Lee's battalion. This burden sapped a third of Stuart's offensive strength and limited his freedom of movement. And he was even further restricted by the new level of Federal competence<br /><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/5034791890201777099/1714573726621256065#"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9jLjUCl8id9GFHhuqyt021r0CrMe6cR7Cx7MTRmgv23SU6hj0fp6uCTiLCgTAIih2jThqoHl4KiStFwN4XNS2aMGe77O-PbUYyrvhAXhzhViTgv1LOiGeUi9a89h5aX7O9segbXtXzFa7/s640/Hanover+++30.jpg" /></a><br />When Stuart had crossed the Potomac River and captured Rockville, Maryland on 28 June, 1863, he thought he was between General Ewell's corps and the federal flank. As was standard with Lee, his commanders set their own tactical objectives, and Stuart planned to capture Hanover just about the time Ewell was taking Carlisle. After looting Hanover - to unbalance the federal politicians - Stuart planned to move up the road to Carlisle and meet General Ewell's corps on 29 June. But he was already 24 hours late.<br /><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/5034791890201777099/1714573726621256065#"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMwlHaP4VI44EMXy22ENjIHdIhxw2KFaMaqPE1_F81-Bzs2huVMUQCYm7f08O4w4uDjwOrJlb1ZtxXaRTZilZ2Cwpx__3ipvLxVPzLi1jnRP1EltzRd8hNefL4tZ1wFoIP84ALI4KdexwW/w426-h640/244304979_6878191488873764_5769994986653384436_n.jpg" /></a><br />Stuart was slowed by a few hours during 29 June by rain, muddy roads, and those captured wagons. That allowed Kilpatrick's division to reach Hanover before the rebels. But with the fight already started, and which he was winning, Stuart's naturally aggressiveness convinced him to push forward. He needed that road to Carlisle. So he ordered Colonel Chambliss, in charge of the leading battalion, to take the town. Which is why Chambliss and Payne charged into Hanover, driving the federals right out.<br /><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/5034791890201777099/1714573726621256065#"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8wwjfDSUBHJ9oPcmg_UdC18ZFbiHjkgwWbqA1TuuTz6X7l2Qg9IqVFqpl-uV1OAx0EzMqbiNuTS7WXPH8y6If8px4l4nQ94_hKRzVXZTrtgYYkta3TBQpyy4vxrl37m_BNcVz6o92FLtX/s640/Hanover+++04.jpg" /></a><br />But in a field east of Hanover, Farnsworth dismounted his Pennsylvania troopers, and sent his men on foot back into the narrow side streets and alleys of Hanover. Lt. Colonel Payne and Col. Chambliss were trying to reorganize their rebels when every alley and street around the square erupted in gunfire. The rebel horsemen tried to chase the shooters down but found themselves trapped in streets too narrow to swing a saber or maneuver a horse.<br /><br /><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/5034791890201777099/1714573726621256065#"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTGjD-8t9D2XKjt2GJqk6N7qPSGH3h1fC1QWj_MhSE7noobfnqEOnyv2fLgx3CuqkSjcosKbkH_D9TnjcBwpe1Cu78A1uD0tvqIfK64JZRDXufhb6Tp4k60Lad-geL4S_lopsXvXfH57hR/s640/Hanover+++20.jpg" /></a><br />And just at the right moment the New York rear guard charged into the town on horseback. Captain Potter was shot from his horse and killed. But his troopers drove the disorganized rebels right back out of town. Chambliss' Virginians were forced to retreat to the west, into the open rolling fields. By now it was just after noon, Tuesday 30 June.<br /><br /><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/5034791890201777099/1714573726621256065#"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyaoD4J96BLcDtmpJJC8Oku2vNKGJNOKZ2xIZP50b57yN_3G_1Nh7SFyaWMuItLS9e49QYNw2e5xtkgiMMO4RubW3HUMK5c5Xk1lKhcJVgma2xu1PrPgkXoEIypu0o0o8cHVOP_h3iIDy0/s640/Hanover+++16++tannery.jpg" /></a><br />Payne's North Carolinians now concentrated to southwest, trying to use the cover of the Winebrenner Tannery (above) on Fredrick Street, as a rallying point.<br /><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/5034791890201777099/1714573726621256065#"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBJr8naZYGgYts4dowl-7LJMSQvo53f5L7qorLUqC8qIOzng-C9qqurzku0_LVQoTQJrtayu9GWhEdqxiaHEgRk06-EX_ps9bQEvXzw6j9ZRpxBVk3BQDOfsWgOC8cxxoJY4fgPgUvhmgD/s640/Hanover+++17++Payne.jpg" /></a><br />It was there that Lt Colonel Payne (above) came to grief. When his horse was shot, the dying creature threw his rider, head first, into an open vat of horse urine, curing outside the tannery. A quick thinking Yankee Private, Abraham Folger, of H company 5th New York Cavalry - who had gotten mixed up with the 18th Pennsylvania in the charge - was able to drag the blinded, sputtering Colonel Payne out of the foul smelling liquid, saving his life and taking him prisoner. Nor was he the only southern gentleman to suffer an indignity in the federal counter attack.<br /><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/5034791890201777099/1714573726621256065#"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYyLYwP8Pc96Pci8jfrm8gI62qihLnh0Tx_8P_fgyAOfOLLdgfJM5atVrXa8IO1u1VVDkvsAfR-ydH-jnkonXswZ3iDGRFfVhFEQBWSZ26o7spIpDtDUEaywswsW1asCIYJ17eXOG1ltRH/s640/Hanover+++02.jpg" /></a><br />General Stuart and his staff were forced to retreat so quickly their horses had to jump the unexpected 15 foot wide Plum Creek. Not all made it. As an historian for the New Yorkers wrote, "In less than fifteen minutes from the time the rebels charged the town, they were driven from it, and were sulking in the wheat fields and among the hills in the vicinity."<br /><br /><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/5034791890201777099/1714573726621256065#"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-nwBe94DnEU71epd2GjlILJjPNSSppWlnH4GlnwZJGn4o4heLI4kxFrNYIUoVoyqz7sE90ZvpXCuOoc82GXevYq-Ua-bKeg63qvfzD6snaEd0dYBCR9WFDxfSNjiKuj4nU-cpq57BhGLU/s640/Hanover+++14.jpg" /></a><br />A lull now set over the battlefield until about 2:00 pm, when Colonel Fitzhugh Lee's battalion of 400 men arrived on the field. They had been guarding the captured supply wagons. But hearing the firing, the Colonel had the left the wagons and rushed to the sound of the guns. Stuart ordered his Virginians and the Tar Heels to outflank the town to the south, spreading out from a ridge overlooking the town (above) on a farm owned by a family named Keller, and reaching to the Mount Olive Cemetery.<br /><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/5034791890201777099/1714573726621256065#"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyWxE5KeIxHBhrZWl755cCFygHxbZrC_OHLrYTyBu1f5LY7ds3Uk0sG6o3pSG-npzr0aneKxo6ZMgnoD-AIUlL6OfSRPYOiN252XSorIDWUzT1IHCVMLFpoND9cUPxOZs3C4vqaqMWvWiJ/s640/Hanover+++38.jpg" /></a><br />Earlier General Kilpatrick had arrived back in Hanover, having ridden his horse so hard that it immediately broke down and died in the town square. The General thus lived up to his nickname of General “Kill Cavalry” As the rest of the West Virginian, New York and Michigan regiments arrived, Pleasanton dismounted them and spread his battle line within the town, barricading the streets and fortifying houses, to match the rebel positions. He was daring Stuart to attack him.<br /><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/5034791890201777099/1714573726621256065#"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCvwZg0Ey-h1mi6NlN9HindCvkwu630TQ4KAtX0__mtgBIHEp-fmLcQkpwe4o7vRN-7-Ht1wVE2OMQgfyZ-dZq6V3-H15TsmEQGXwSRLXWstlOR7jojBPl8bA99mwZrYGYJVtXJLHnaN8B/s640/Hanover+++22.jpg" /></a><br />The two sides now began an artillery duel. It looked for a couple of hours as if there was going to be a great cavalry battle in Hanover, dwarfing the melee at Brandy Station. Kilpatrick telegraphed army headquarters that he had Stuart's entire cavalry corps pinned on the hills south of Hanover. With some infantry reinforcement, perhaps from General Slocum's nearby Federal XII corps, he could crush Jeb Stuart for ever.<br /><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/5034791890201777099/1714573726621256065#"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVICtPr72qDaj8H0vdip0E_DIl12zBIkbU09V8kPOc5_Af13WNPlm2ovoTQ-srlMHcApUGruuvokfeUnQLXgjJaPb6Ooyf_PoWDEi0FtXEwhOEk6t2Ag8SqXv7IQTGFmNhyDhz0AM3xi1V/s640/Hanover+++13++carlisle+st.jpg" /></a><br />Jeb Stuart was too smart to attack the town. He outnumbered Killpatick's troopers in Hanover, but the buildings cancelled his numerical advantage. An attack would wreck his force. And that left him with a problem. He was already late for his appointment with General Ewall's corps in Carlisle. And the northwest road to Carlisle (above) branched off in Hanover. Stuart had to either take the town or miss the appointment. Sitting where he was he was burning gun powder and horse flesh. And the rest of the Federal army could be anywhere, perhaps coming up right behind him..<br /><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/5034791890201777099/1714573726621256065#"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG6_r5dG_KUCjpXIh66PVUkUiDvLeFuvVTkfZmJ3YDHdhAISH6cTOg4rvqaFBuSSTVjCebMP8fEH95zEU7noukZ_4X3b1z-PMwd0CRZMlj7Zu4p8IfW23RqhI0Y6uKlSBHb8ELnXTHOUat/s640/Hanover+++06+++Fredrick.jpg" /></a><br />That night, Stuart slipped away from the Union horsemen, dragging the captured wagons with him. In a sleepless, grueling all night march, his exhausted men slipped around the federal right.<br /><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/5034791890201777099/1714573726621256065#"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU6mxOOWF6dSJXrjKEqoxkeXrDAPozq_Zq4MbWU1XdMgkJVwtJE0H_y99diAFO4Tx8JEjW0XqPfNMdPgi_SFmA7mKziTqT3xgyI9OnTr3soU1I2HcHQ-rRvk-Z0LmJJRZRUkkImDlfFo-W/s640/Hanover+++26.jpg" /></a><br />Lucky Hanover, Pennsylvania. The combination of human blindness and ambition, and accidents of terrain and of timing produced a battle that left 28 dead, 123 wounded and 180 missing or captured. A small price compared to what the smaller town of Gettysburg was about to suffer.<br /><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/5034791890201777099/1714573726621256065#"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3uDkRm3VRSJ0_rYuFHiH4qA08dPElXY7gClNpKTQXn1iCqI_wlUvkO-ygxojiae2xMcDo4Y4rr_tZ2Tmj-tyMU1ypxxMD8S57RN8SEed6Uj3_S_of5mYisrJ8-tDYCvW5fDw58f78A8Nu/w640-h450/244304979_6878191488873764_5769994986653384436_n.jpg" /></a><br />By mid-morning Stuart and his three battalions managed to reach York. But he he did not approach Carlisle until 6:00 pm on 1 July - a full day behind schedule. He found the town held by Pennsylvania militia, who held off the exhausted rebel cavalry. It was not until after midnight that General Stuart learned of Lee's orders for the entire army to concentrate. At 3:00 am, 2 July, after just an hour's sleep, Stuart put his men back in the saddle, moving around Carlisle and on the road to Gettysburg, where he would be reunited with General Lee.<br /><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/5034791890201777099/1714573726621256065#"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3INhwqLBTZiMYaM-G7G-pVQr_pGpcc_09whcYCxPRYpI-TetZSh22usLmcdKzxl4atIXWKbxsuUegU8i_I0AY10QrXC1dNfYhTzMz69XEkaKtVhK_3PjEArQUA2aPxsmYgXriBA2hjOLh/w640-h640/Hanover+++01.jpg" width="640" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;">- 30 -</span></div></div>Kimit Mustonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03809428003905885379noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5034791890201777099.post-41947410605412059072024-02-23T09:00:00.008-05:002024-02-23T09:00:00.123-05:00FIRST DAY Chapter Thirteen<p> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPy4kYNUEXlroD218HYfVYfkXR_uZFaEsS8T9k3-_-IDAmKs4R9e0dQfox_7vBehYVxnRlR5zhe5JobTZ6QA3Ez8sHCRtHY4TtaPSuC7XOrWJ4-O_fScSOSva9xBT19adrwIAV9Mf6zVvd/s1600/FIrst+++09.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPy4kYNUEXlroD218HYfVYfkXR_uZFaEsS8T9k3-_-IDAmKs4R9e0dQfox_7vBehYVxnRlR5zhe5JobTZ6QA3Ez8sHCRtHY4TtaPSuC7XOrWJ4-O_fScSOSva9xBT19adrwIAV9Mf6zVvd/s640/FIrst+++09.jpg" width="444" /></a></p><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">I believe the story because I believe the man. The story goes that on the evening of Sunday, 29 June 1863, 34 year old Federal Brigadier General John Buford (above) and some of this staff climbed Jack's Mountain, just northeast of </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Fountain Dale, Pennsylvania, in the eastern mouth of </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Monterey Pass, and saw dust rising in the masked Cumberland Valley beyond. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVDUifHPKyPLDMi-s8Yrfxvv9ztS9TLjLq-KF_oIfj6U5_vs9UjZc-3wKzbx5lmgwBeiq4ITShG81sd_X3lQqXwLI2tTH1IMPZnuTksc09CekovawPOBd5avo_reiuBj0yokiboARxDayl/s1600/First+++14.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVDUifHPKyPLDMi-s8Yrfxvv9ztS9TLjLq-KF_oIfj6U5_vs9UjZc-3wKzbx5lmgwBeiq4ITShG81sd_X3lQqXwLI2tTH1IMPZnuTksc09CekovawPOBd5avo_reiuBj0yokiboARxDayl/s400/First+++14.jpg" width="298" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">And being who he was – born in Kentucky, raised in Illinois, disowned by his slave owning family after he chose to defend the union - Buford could sense the brawl that was about to break out, he could smell the testosterone and adrenaline of 160, 000 approaching men. The General turned to his aides and told them, </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">“Within 48 hours the concentration of both armies will take place on a field within view and a great battle will be fought.”</span></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSGWATulbDnHemb7LRVGsfhCI6A4ySXoJ8KEXQo__bTM19DkIMJ4oMaqzmkHxU9ERmCxa4Kh03PSorpGyJS8rR7g_gSfiF_jm4XKAQVweVE6-08VSYD8XbnsaB2PyVu3pWfWNYzb2nJ2ZB/s1600/First+++37.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSGWATulbDnHemb7LRVGsfhCI6A4ySXoJ8KEXQo__bTM19DkIMJ4oMaqzmkHxU9ERmCxa4Kh03PSorpGyJS8rR7g_gSfiF_jm4XKAQVweVE6-08VSYD8XbnsaB2PyVu3pWfWNYzb2nJ2ZB/s640/First+++37.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">But while the view from 1,775 feet above the Juniata River was and is magnificent, there were no dust clouds in view. A little further back down the road, near Emmitsburg, Maryland, marching with the 6</span><sup style="font-family: "times new roman", serif;">th</sup><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"> Wisconsin Infantry, Lieutenant Colonel Rufus Dawes remembered “</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">I don't think I ever before saw...such a long continued, misty, drizzling storm as we have been marching through since we crossed the Potomac.” And two days before he had written to his wife of "...</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">trudging along all day in soaking rain, getting as wet as a drowned rat...and then wrapping up in a wet woolen blanket and lying down for a sleep.." There was plenty of mud in southern Pennsylvania this week , but there was little dust.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-RnJvbkPJ2LXaaEn1NDQhek8B3MD62kwdKyDhWaHR4sxJLOUK4uabZICdQzl52ukwfT3YKvoiyGS5Pwym7PhUBYWGXVpSFhCZsGWd2KjxXcS0PCMA6dsruNMYnAj2BK4XZIAo8Ss9Ekqi/s1600/First+++08.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="466" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-RnJvbkPJ2LXaaEn1NDQhek8B3MD62kwdKyDhWaHR4sxJLOUK4uabZICdQzl52ukwfT3YKvoiyGS5Pwym7PhUBYWGXVpSFhCZsGWd2KjxXcS0PCMA6dsruNMYnAj2BK4XZIAo8Ss9Ekqi/s640/First+++08.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">But this was the third year of a civil war, in which brother literately was killing brother. The vast majority of those 160,000 combat veterans knew what they were marching toward - knew it as sure as they knew it could not be stopped. As the great Historian Bruce Catton put it, The soldiers were, “...led together by the turns in the roads they followed. When they touched they began to fight, because the tension was so high that the first encounter snapped it, and once begun the fight was uncontrollable. What the generals intended ceased to matter; each man had to cope with what he got...” </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">That was the reality I believe General Buford saw in the fading mist.</span></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjEQMX0e9SEY-WrSf4b_KwakbdpDjKfofHRqqrHSpImQbVW7FxQ3T5FxzJm4bk2x_0-jTI0wgB_Of0h7B_Yat7RxbHlMERxJTE3sG_BfFjHEs5rTBzydyavWxobU0vVJtnVKhHKZPzp9Xm/s1600/First+++31.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="364" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjEQMX0e9SEY-WrSf4b_KwakbdpDjKfofHRqqrHSpImQbVW7FxQ3T5FxzJm4bk2x_0-jTI0wgB_Of0h7B_Yat7RxbHlMERxJTE3sG_BfFjHEs5rTBzydyavWxobU0vVJtnVKhHKZPzp9Xm/s640/First+++31.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Perhaps the clearest glimpse of John Buford in this third year of the war was provided by what happened to a young civilian suspected of spying on the Federal cavalry near Frederick, Maryland. A quick “drum-head court martial” found the boy guilty, and he was promptly condemned, and left hanging by his neck from a roadside tree. When a committee of Frederick civilians demanded an explanation from Buford, the General explained he would have sent the boy back to Washington for trial, except he feared the bureaucrats and politicians there would make the spy a Brigadier General. That is what passed for a joke from John Buford, after 2 1/2 years of war.</span></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6R2CmnPKuVepPmxzGHIMOlWxB7pmYE7V75YaZIBEnfUMWBqRouUwpByzWHwxo-PAtvtbCH67u6zDcW5fOYMkk_7eX4abYgoZPQH2R7b1mepQPwe67qmsqwaUZ2gYf23tiyYXRrcUWQf7V/s1600/First+++31.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6R2CmnPKuVepPmxzGHIMOlWxB7pmYE7V75YaZIBEnfUMWBqRouUwpByzWHwxo-PAtvtbCH67u6zDcW5fOYMkk_7eX4abYgoZPQH2R7b1mepQPwe67qmsqwaUZ2gYf23tiyYXRrcUWQf7V/s640/First+++31.jpg" width="492" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Twenty miles to the south of Buford's cavalry were the three leading corps of the Army of the Potomac. From south to north, they were the 13,000 men of the III Corps, under the 44 year old legally insane New Yorker and congressman, Major General Daniel Edgar Sickles (above)</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqCoMCUve0vn6NprXT8tBO2Cg3EmLmNqm9FynzLJRre7vezcoboJdYIIQR5Vw-I9S8uwFhn233P-VqdIn8tptFNmpxSfK2qM1kotKc9z6pWfq9biSDnYBxBZ8oO-OLo3sVUISsAfYgoqjs/s1600/First+++37.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqCoMCUve0vn6NprXT8tBO2Cg3EmLmNqm9FynzLJRre7vezcoboJdYIIQR5Vw-I9S8uwFhn233P-VqdIn8tptFNmpxSfK2qM1kotKc9z6pWfq9biSDnYBxBZ8oO-OLo3sVUISsAfYgoqjs/s640/First+++37.jpg" width="540" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">They were following the 9,000 despised and disparaged “Damned Dutch” of the XI Corps under the 33 year old Puritanical nativist Major General Oliver Otis Howard, from Maine. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPxrCs6MYzkMSov-0SaSyK4ehEtj2mzHz5sFMKGI2reSATM7ka8RnjdiT_dzqdQ7vJxCq3z1iEiyTOwYNaMeFJhG2frQbg-hjRsUD6P_tUsVHTkIE5jwTxlAPn5Euz09-t2CJFuMJDFSyM/s1600/First+++40.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPxrCs6MYzkMSov-0SaSyK4ehEtj2mzHz5sFMKGI2reSATM7ka8RnjdiT_dzqdQ7vJxCq3z1iEiyTOwYNaMeFJhG2frQbg-hjRsUD6P_tUsVHTkIE5jwTxlAPn5Euz09-t2CJFuMJDFSyM/s400/First+++40.jpg" width="308" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">But in the lead were the 12,200 men of the veteran First Crops, under the command of the 42 year old charismatic Pennsylvanian, Major General John Fulton Reynolds.</span></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd7yMw1e4bqy0O9KvWrJfRn5_cwsXLKJrRFAntNPxeGwHlEhzPdhXiLrVNzrqPrieMFJD_nv_8rMCkz_x_ONHNyzlb1ou0OUiTjH0f2kKFrY02aF5U7zZ-TprpRx4IFY11RALIEQfdAZwJ/s1600/First+++41.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd7yMw1e4bqy0O9KvWrJfRn5_cwsXLKJrRFAntNPxeGwHlEhzPdhXiLrVNzrqPrieMFJD_nv_8rMCkz_x_ONHNyzlb1ou0OUiTjH0f2kKFrY02aF5U7zZ-TprpRx4IFY11RALIEQfdAZwJ/s640/First+++41.jpg" width="482" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">President Lincoln had wanted Reynolds to run the Army of the Potomac after the Chancellorsville debacle. But on Tuesday, 2 June, 1863, Reynolds made met the President one-on-one and told Lincoln he would take the job only if Lincoln kept politics out his decisions. Lincoln had his fill with Generals who decided which orders they would follow. He might even have explained to the niave General that all wars were as much political as martial. But whatever he told Reynolds, the top job had gone to Meade.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUW11jHcn3VhWx-0n8-Kg7wkjIhzq7F0cOp1pwPAKNmPlLb8fhW7doB8t4g_lvtg0mwGDWsczVoky7J35Y8_fh7evfsLxCgO4a4EfqnS4jQu1tx7ikQtOid09UcDiDe-iudV-HV_WqOhgE/s1600/First+++42.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="464" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUW11jHcn3VhWx-0n8-Kg7wkjIhzq7F0cOp1pwPAKNmPlLb8fhW7doB8t4g_lvtg0mwGDWsczVoky7J35Y8_fh7evfsLxCgO4a4EfqnS4jQu1tx7ikQtOid09UcDiDe-iudV-HV_WqOhgE/w640-h464/First+++42.png" width="640" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Meade immediately drew up plans to establish a 20 mile long defensive line facing north (above) - “roughly parallel to the Mason-Dixon line” - between Manchester and Middleburg, Maryland, along the south bank of Big Pipe Creek. It was an extraordinary defensive position. But perhaps still irritated at being passed over for the command, Reynolds expressed concern that Meade's cautious nature would allow the rebels to continue “</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"> plundering the State of Pennsylvania”, referring to the Pipe Creek plans as “dilatory measures”. But Meade had already sent </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Reynolds west and north of that line. First Crops and Howard's XI Corps made camp the night of 29 June, around Emmitsburg, Maryland. And as Meade explained in a post script to his orders issued that night, “</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Your present position was given more with a view to an advance on Gettysburg, than a defensive point.”</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";">And screening Reynolds 22,000 men by ten miles or so were the 2 battalions of John Buford's cavalry, just 6 miles outside of Gettysburg, that night.</span></span></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqVnwVDiXESq6F9BzxTRmqVu1nFqMrMfMxdYC_8nWMeYNc-EreTKYbH_uSJkfsrZgJpNgWsz2d11p4LWL58tfGnWJ_Hc1_PEvbJirBGtCa93OS6Q07NRGmBghdeZ52LpvqmqLwwILinZRr/s1600/First+++48.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="305" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqVnwVDiXESq6F9BzxTRmqVu1nFqMrMfMxdYC_8nWMeYNc-EreTKYbH_uSJkfsrZgJpNgWsz2d11p4LWL58tfGnWJ_Hc1_PEvbJirBGtCa93OS6Q07NRGmBghdeZ52LpvqmqLwwILinZRr/s400/First+++48.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">The damp Sunday morning, 38 miles to the north, </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">37 year old rebel Brigadier General Henry Heth (above) had marched his infantry division down the eastern slope of South Mountain to occupy a small collection of houses and barns around a store and inn called Cashtown. They were the advance guard of Lieutenant General A.P. Hill's 22,000 man Third Corps, and </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Heath's task was to establish a defensive line to hold the pass. The next morning he would send a brigade 8 miles further down the Chambersburg Pike to the little town of Gettysburg, looking for supplies to feed and clothe his men. And looking for Federals.</span></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQy4vqVYzI_1CT4lF_zDbrZvkjqh2rBQDvWVKwe_p4FqfeJJwocggklpyi3O_TulVgqFYIB_TNDTBL_oj1SFkCWmQtXNrWfLM39Fwi2eltOCaBXgRxqFwVoVC91QxtqApfcoeFnfWE9keD/s1600/First+++34.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQy4vqVYzI_1CT4lF_zDbrZvkjqh2rBQDvWVKwe_p4FqfeJJwocggklpyi3O_TulVgqFYIB_TNDTBL_oj1SFkCWmQtXNrWfLM39Fwi2eltOCaBXgRxqFwVoVC91QxtqApfcoeFnfWE9keD/s640/First+++34.jpg" width="630" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Thirty miles north and east of Gettysburg on Sunday, 29 June, 1863, was Richard Ewell's 22,000 man Second Corps. Jubal Early's division was due east Gettysburg, at York, Pennsylvania, where they had cut the Baltimore and Harrisburg railroad. The day before a 1,200 man Georgia brigade under the often wounded General John Brown Gordon had even reached as far as Wrightsville, on the Susquehanna River. But after the Yankees burned the bridge, that Sunday Gordon's men returned to York.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPIZCK-r3YKVTBLhQ7CNDeONC22ovjFeFKK_3mlsaK8ybKHemQTJlO3nAfM1OwU_MqcJyyTTWVPLS8UbBOoKg_JC2duPbgxUi4qkqlafyHz4T5a0KUszRbhgrfz6REXcwxILqLHQLZNiya/s1600/First+++13.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="374" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPIZCK-r3YKVTBLhQ7CNDeONC22ovjFeFKK_3mlsaK8ybKHemQTJlO3nAfM1OwU_MqcJyyTTWVPLS8UbBOoKg_JC2duPbgxUi4qkqlafyHz4T5a0KUszRbhgrfz6REXcwxILqLHQLZNiya/s640/First+++13.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">The remaining two divisions of Ewell's Second Corps – commanded by 34 year old Major General Robert Emmett Rodes and 37 year old Major General Edward "Allegheny" Johnson - were further north, in Carlisle, fulfilling General Ewell's 4 day old prediction, “We will get fat here.” Georgia private Gordon Bradwell recalled his 20 man company had been issued “</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">two hindquarters of very fine beef, a barrel or two of flour, some buckets of wine, sugar, clothing, shoes, etc.” </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS2hcuUL41qKPNuiSdMIetewIhUijCAzwM28uPMtzMWXdF9pe6qy8XB_30BAujBqPmoJUvwkloLh_1zOFjR1thyphenhyphenlhcBbuorxNgQc8K-h0NgtO_vHG5zYyGsLoyu4phcfYy1cQUinlFNk-p/s1600/First+++23.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS2hcuUL41qKPNuiSdMIetewIhUijCAzwM28uPMtzMWXdF9pe6qy8XB_30BAujBqPmoJUvwkloLh_1zOFjR1thyphenhyphenlhcBbuorxNgQc8K-h0NgtO_vHG5zYyGsLoyu4phcfYy1cQUinlFNk-p/s400/First+++23.JPG" width="258" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Further east, in Mechanicsburg, </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Brigadier General Albert Jenkins' (above) troopers demanded 1,500 rations from the civilians. After that demand was met within 90 minutes, the rebels started looting, as they had done in Chambersburg. Noted one bitter journalist, “Some people, with . . . antiquated ideas of business, might call it stealing...but Jenkins calls it business...”</span></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjCWefetgTWQmAqV62_liLBLC_z0Mbff4cgttVG8XOX1Svz_hQedivyttXyGlzCbRfHJVjh-syzZB1FSHVP0_65NAIaPgSbtQcVTnNfjzL4nXP87me3noT8Tq2-7_1Q0ogTGpnOnM6fupI/s1600/First+++10.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="334" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjCWefetgTWQmAqV62_liLBLC_z0Mbff4cgttVG8XOX1Svz_hQedivyttXyGlzCbRfHJVjh-syzZB1FSHVP0_65NAIaPgSbtQcVTnNfjzL4nXP87me3noT8Tq2-7_1Q0ogTGpnOnM6fupI/s640/First+++10.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">On that same Sunday, 29 June, other troopers from Jenkin's cavalry were trading shots with Pennsylvania militia at Oyster's point on the river, while Jenkins himself, along with 3 of General Ewell's engineers, were looking over the defenses of the state capital of Harrisburg (above) Nobody was impressed. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-Q2rzo_bVwOCA4eBIoVRE0L8dcPBsigHAfgZ37gJdsLAw3d7lViYZ34SPNQtlufCk29iDyiye0eLlgqaihUu2Rtikg5vqzaWNNx8tliq8dgJwjb5CemggjUoJB0dg-SgeBOS21-ZJTQ2Q/s1600/First+++35.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="430" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-Q2rzo_bVwOCA4eBIoVRE0L8dcPBsigHAfgZ37gJdsLAw3d7lViYZ34SPNQtlufCk29iDyiye0eLlgqaihUu2Rtikg5vqzaWNNx8tliq8dgJwjb5CemggjUoJB0dg-SgeBOS21-ZJTQ2Q/s640/First+++35.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Even the burning of the Cumberland Valley Railroad bridge over the Susquehanna (above) failed to discourage these rebels. That evening, General Ewell ordered his infantry to move toward the river, determined to capture Harrisburg. This was the proof that Hooker's delay in matching Lee's movement across the Potomac, was leading to disaster.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1J99yxU6XwUiKfvIRZ0_XIt3ePHf0p5fV-e4sWt2aqWijqe_HSBtyftifOQLPKIw2wdtX00B2VMzaVTdGDXxk1-yolDALn82CHX3v4Cddwt8XuwsISaHYxCe871Gkd9i2v8zs-eW5Vhuw/s1600/First+++18.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="303" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1J99yxU6XwUiKfvIRZ0_XIt3ePHf0p5fV-e4sWt2aqWijqe_HSBtyftifOQLPKIw2wdtX00B2VMzaVTdGDXxk1-yolDALn82CHX3v4Cddwt8XuwsISaHYxCe871Gkd9i2v8zs-eW5Vhuw/s400/First+++18.png" width="400" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Then an exhausted courier arrived at Ewell's (above) headquarters outside of Carlisle, with orders issued by General Lee just 12 hours earlier, in Chambersburg. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG53D45dHc2EnSMFYQF7tqItSgO_9qKHATVyH9TrvF7jemk9iyCTnnN0mI0oRVzIDWeJQxSQd5tQWHHYUvHIyBw3UBL2zPkSw9D5RKy5t0SohClIOFMi9YU8M7AOf-DIrbyfwsuF5WsXLR/s1600/First+++22.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG53D45dHc2EnSMFYQF7tqItSgO_9qKHATVyH9TrvF7jemk9iyCTnnN0mI0oRVzIDWeJQxSQd5tQWHHYUvHIyBw3UBL2zPkSw9D5RKy5t0SohClIOFMi9YU8M7AOf-DIrbyfwsuF5WsXLR/s400/First+++22.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">In Lee's typical passive-aggressive fashion they read in part, “...</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">if you have no good reason against it, I desire you to move in the direction of Gettysburg....you can thus join your other divisions to Early's...Your trains and heavy artillery you can send, if you think proper, on the road to Chambersburg. But if the roads which your troops take are good, they had better follow you.” </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidwyri0TuCd3OzPnGsCDu0KD7Vxf84YPAs2OSC5zb5OSuJhOI11J-QTxP0A3AHD01ClBK9RuGMt-qQRdHC5OPWOOK-AnZFNbi4PXslmhc1cJKzosqp6qLqqWwetG-42gp0VGcQh3lb51j-/s1600/First+++12.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="230" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidwyri0TuCd3OzPnGsCDu0KD7Vxf84YPAs2OSC5zb5OSuJhOI11J-QTxP0A3AHD01ClBK9RuGMt-qQRdHC5OPWOOK-AnZFNbi4PXslmhc1cJKzosqp6qLqqWwetG-42gp0VGcQh3lb51j-/s400/First+++12.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Ewell, who had some experience with Lee's choice of language, realized the urgency hidden in the message. He immediately called off his attack on Harrisburg, and prepared to swing Johnson's division and his supply trains back down the Cumberland Valley toward Chambersburg, and Rodes division due south toward Gettysburg – first thing in the morning.</span></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9E_6BMLJz6lNmgU-T0dVzSyUBqT4ed6JYMRgpYkBOcxlYKBtNiMxrTgVlGzlRAuYQrpcur1p_GOXLVVFQwJCrmMQBft6ow9vkHGtoN8qi7PopsFJHKffjuahxy35WC5Hz5YdLw4mgPzt3/s1600/First+++47.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9E_6BMLJz6lNmgU-T0dVzSyUBqT4ed6JYMRgpYkBOcxlYKBtNiMxrTgVlGzlRAuYQrpcur1p_GOXLVVFQwJCrmMQBft6ow9vkHGtoN8qi7PopsFJHKffjuahxy35WC5Hz5YdLw4mgPzt3/s640/First+++47.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">The next morning, on the last day of June, 1863, while Major General J.E.B. Stuart was clashing with Major General Pleasanton's Federal cavalry at Hanover, and General Rodes' division was just beginning their 30 mile march south from Carlisle, John Buford was riding onto the high ground south of Gettysburg, at the head of 3,000 troopers. On the ridge opposite the town, known as Seminary Hill, he could see rebel infantry on the Chambersburg turnpike. These were the 2,000 man infantry brigade Heath had sent forward, looking for supplies. But seeing blue cavalry about to enter the town before them, and aware of Lee's orders to avoid a fight, they reversed their march, returning to Cashtown.</span></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQUwQVYRNhXmFmbGt5Q5DHrSZczQ3TWaCEuTwprUCg4bjninB-Qq_Zqs-9OOs14mQo2zUmE0N5vJv5gulSx2Xgs2ntkwicY9QEqDYYyOspHFtIimMv-gZkaLz_ReNO9N01HfcdJd3Z4bcZ/s1600/First+++48.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQUwQVYRNhXmFmbGt5Q5DHrSZczQ3TWaCEuTwprUCg4bjninB-Qq_Zqs-9OOs14mQo2zUmE0N5vJv5gulSx2Xgs2ntkwicY9QEqDYYyOspHFtIimMv-gZkaLz_ReNO9N01HfcdJd3Z4bcZ/s640/First+++48.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Seeing them retreat, Buford immediately galloped into the town of Gettysburg and arraigned his defenses</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">. </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEvDyZbpRaNsd8kCrWmvdxyfBRr40w783IM6-ZDt6Ti9noP3Ve3mYz3mi6PVWsFixxIF1kGLwG_jeofOV-ZhyphenhyphenPraJu-0zU_BvxNeAxcf-eEFFzMP5oHqHoEt0gk8DHAitspyHk6qih_TrU/s1600/First+++55.jpg" style="font-family: "times new roman", serif; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEvDyZbpRaNsd8kCrWmvdxyfBRr40w783IM6-ZDt6Ti9noP3Ve3mYz3mi6PVWsFixxIF1kGLwG_jeofOV-ZhyphenhyphenPraJu-0zU_BvxNeAxcf-eEFFzMP5oHqHoEt0gk8DHAitspyHk6qih_TrU/s400/First+++55.jpg" width="303" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">His first battalion of 1,500 men, under</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"> Colonel William Gamble</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">, (above) were spread out on ridges west of town above Marsh Creek, near where the Pennsylvania volunteers had been overrun the week before. </span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZJ-zEOFy9TIA_IUgs3tBGjXHXRKfasgdoWhI9jVREeGhkheRsrt3x79D5anPynLP5igv-v8eW0juebEeLM1Qnxe-cLpu9VHAUpjBot5vfq6sg89hR4S9OCtrT82Lt4ys2vKuXC-Xem9kX/s1600/First+++52.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZJ-zEOFy9TIA_IUgs3tBGjXHXRKfasgdoWhI9jVREeGhkheRsrt3x79D5anPynLP5igv-v8eW0juebEeLM1Qnxe-cLpu9VHAUpjBot5vfq6sg89hR4S9OCtrT82Lt4ys2vKuXC-Xem9kX/s400/First+++52.jpg" width="323" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">The Second Battalion under Colonel Tom Devin (above) was ordered to post pickets as far as 4 miles west and north, and entrench his men along the Mummasberg road. Devin confidently said he thought the command could handle whatever rebels threw at them, but Buford cut him off, saying, “</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">No, you won’t. They will attack you in the morning and they will come booming – skirmishers three-deep. You will have to fight like the devil until supports arrive.”</span></div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7x6AYHPVC9SJnopb2CWOYxTtg2XgnrgzD-UUA6cnQ-6vMRF5ceyl0o-XJwG43eRg0RoAGM9q2HmPVIEQcW8WAZXN_QHiC20IQrQo-ToTUxTigdz_1wa1Hzp7nkCnnHR2AU3ZCSVwAH_th/s1600/First+++39.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7x6AYHPVC9SJnopb2CWOYxTtg2XgnrgzD-UUA6cnQ-6vMRF5ceyl0o-XJwG43eRg0RoAGM9q2HmPVIEQcW8WAZXN_QHiC20IQrQo-ToTUxTigdz_1wa1Hzp7nkCnnHR2AU3ZCSVwAH_th/s640/First+++39.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><div><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">At 10:30 that night Buford sent his report 10 miles back to Reynolds, now north of Emmitsburg. It read in part, “...I am satisfied that A. P. Hill's corps is massed just back of Cashtown, about 9 miles from this place...One of my parties captured a courier of Lee's...He says Ewell's corps is crossing the mountains from Carlisle...”.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizfIe2CUi7ZNv7uE3F2i7SEhtNWkRcdF8PKrNvzkcSBBNnHeF3IkyUiPNWFXKEEtxYZ2CJPpQctA_XX3SeszXmn6zu_tYe-Kt-KxlNWkSNjWuZ8KgwW4uK2xla41jh_9qnGFa-XYBDJOAe/s1600/1863PaMap.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="472" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizfIe2CUi7ZNv7uE3F2i7SEhtNWkRcdF8PKrNvzkcSBBNnHeF3IkyUiPNWFXKEEtxYZ2CJPpQctA_XX3SeszXmn6zu_tYe-Kt-KxlNWkSNjWuZ8KgwW4uK2xla41jh_9qnGFa-XYBDJOAe/s640/1863PaMap.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div>In short, Lee's entire 75,000 man army was converging on Buford's 3,000 man force in Gettysburg. To have added a cry for help would have been superfluous. After the messengers had left, Buford's signal officer, First Lieutenant Aaron Brainard Jerome, noted that his commander seemed more anxious, “than I ever saw him.”</div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgidxvlG0sxXQ2ZMkHdF7IOqfVkkCN4LGdNINxLXPMWC2G3hae-NkB6S_M-AWFKYqC7phdB0ZZlZ71K5hcGUAyBWA_Z5DbnUfKuuCT1dthibgwqsynri6L-IWDr9Eps6PpCMFxrA786vozy/s1600/First+++51.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="357" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgidxvlG0sxXQ2ZMkHdF7IOqfVkkCN4LGdNINxLXPMWC2G3hae-NkB6S_M-AWFKYqC7phdB0ZZlZ71K5hcGUAyBWA_Z5DbnUfKuuCT1dthibgwqsynri6L-IWDr9Eps6PpCMFxrA786vozy/s640/First+++51.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">- 30 -</span></span></div></div>Kimit Mustonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03809428003905885379noreply@blogger.com0