It was well after two in the morning, and it didn’t take the old man long to fall asleep. The trip had been long and he was in frail health. Unable to sleep for their excitement, the two boys crept out of the room, being sure not to wake David’s father. The two had several miles ahead of them and now was not the time to sleep, this being the first morning of their greatest adventure.
Only weeks before, Southern rebels had shelled Fort Sumter, and with President Lincoln’s call for troops, companies of volunteers were forming all over New York. David Parker and his friend Martin Boyden had hoped to join “Captain” James Brown’s company gathering in Jamestown, not far from David’s home at Ellery Center in western New York; both towns were mere dots on the map. Eager to get things started, David rode into Jamestown the day after learning Captain Brown was forming a company. Upon arriving in Jamestown young Parker was informed by Captain Brown that he was too late; the company was full and all uniforms had been distributed.
David was only 18 yet considered himself an ardent Republican, so when Lincoln’s call for enlistment came he was ready. At Sunday services in Jamestown, Brown’s newly formed company attended en masse, and young Parker was there, listening intently to the sermon. The day’s sermon was intended for the men of the company. While sermons in the past certainly would have called for support of Lincoln and restoration of the Union, this would have been different. With a company of future soldiers seated in the pews, war was no longer an abstract notion about duty, patriotism, and sacrifice. Men were going off to fight and some wouldn’t return, although on this day it is doubtful anyone imagined just how many of these men would not come back.
As the family returned home from services, David announced to his father his desire to enlist, and to do so immediately. Charles, his father, was opposed to the idea of his son going to war; after all, he was young, and there were recruits enough, he reasoned; better to wait awhile. Grandson of a New Hampshire soldier of the Revolution, David argued with his reluctant father. David described those men he thought best suited to go to war: the young, the single with no responsibilities, in short, men just like him. David continued to explain to his father that Captain William Stevens was forming a company up in Dunkirk, destined for the same regiment as Brown’s. Once enrolled, David might be able to transfer back to the Jamestown company. The elder Parker gave in and agreed to take David and his friend Martin Boyden that night the two dozen or so miles to meet with Stevens.
The three started off at nightfall. They reached Cassadaga by two o’clock in the morning, leaving them eight miles outside of Dunkirk. After finding a hotel and resting, the three planned to continue on in the morning, but the boys had other ideas. With the senior Parker now asleep, the boys snuck out, telling the hosteler they were leaving and to bid David’s father that he should follow in the morning at his leisure.
Upon reaching Dunkirk, the boys found most of the town was still asleep. Finding Stevens’ home, the boys waited on his porch until the captain rose. When Stevens finally met with the two, he told them he had considered his company full just the night before. However, he noted that there might still be hope as he believed there were several men whose parents were trying to induce them away and another few he doubted would pass the doctor’s inspection. Stevens mentioned misgivings about David’s friend Martin, though. Martin Boyden was somewhat undersized and had poor front teeth, which would make the tearing of cartridges and clinching of bullets a problem. But Stevens did like their pluck, complimenting both on their grit, saying, “You may go in, and if the doctor passes you, I will take you.”1
Stevens’ unit was part of the long-serving 68th New York Militia under Colonel David Forbes, centered in Chautauqua County, and was one of two companies based in Dunkirk. Early on there was an attempt to have the entirety of the 68th accepted for active service, but “Secretary Cameron could give no encouragement to the project.”2 Impressed with Stevens’ “energy and military spirit,” Secretary of War Simon Cameron subsequently invited the two Dunkirk companies, one under Stevens and the other under Patrick Barrett, to prepare for active service.3
Later that day, both boys passed the doctor’s inspection and were told to report to the town’s armory yard to commence drilling. Soon both were subject to a rain of curses in both English and German from a diminutive sergeant, Daniel Loeb. Loeb was the local tavern keeper and sergeant of Stevens’ militia unit, which had recently taken second place in a national drill competition. Loeb’s militiamen formed the foundation of the new company, and no one took more pride in marching than Sgt. Loeb. David and Martin were now unmistakably in the army.
Across the state of New York, men were joining their nearby companies. Some saw it as their duty to restore the Union and subdue the Rebellion; others joined for the excitement or to avoid being labeled “cowards.” Among those who enlisted were nineteen-year-old Emerson Merrell and 18-year-old Lorey Wilder, neither of whom intended to join. Emerson in fact had no more thought of joining than he did of “murdering myself,” he later confessed. Yet in nearly an instant after their conversation turned to joining up, they did. Motivated by what Emerson described to his mother as a “good cause” and an effort to “execute it,” the two were now volunteers.4
Emerson was the oldest of ten children living on his family’s farm near the small hamlet of Coventry, Chenango County, in the central part of New York, not far from the border with Pennsylvania. Unlike David Parker, Emerson was not an ardent Republican and often found the motives of Lincoln suspicious. Whatever the reason, the two found themselves in Delhi, the hub of recruiting activity for the area. There, Captain Robert T. Johnson was putting together a company of men, intent on being part of a brigade being assembled by former United States Congressman Daniel Sickles.
The two pairs of boys were separated by half a state but had signed their names only a week apart. Both companies were being raised with the intent of falling in with Dan Sickles’ brigade. Though their respective captains didn’t yet know it, both companies would find themselves belonging to the Third Regiment of Sickles’ soon to be renowned Excelsior Brigade.
To say Daniel Edgar Sickles was a man of action was an understatement. By the time war broke out he was already well known both inside and outside of New York. As a young man, he had been active in Democratic Party politics and in the political machinery of New York City, unashamed to use intimidation or dirty tricks to advance his candidate’s objectives. Sickles was as ambitious in politics as he was fond of female companionship, be the ladies unmarried or otherwise.
But eventually the roguish Sickles’ career took a fateful turn. In 1857 Sickles had arrived in Washington as a first term congressman from New York’s Third District accompanied by his wife of five years, Teresa. Teresa, who was only 16 when they married, was a lovely and charming hostess who carried on her husband’s expectations to maintain hearth and home while he carried on various other indulgences. In February of ’59 it came as a shock to Dan to discover that his supposedly faithful wife had carried on an affair of her own with family friend Phillip Barton Key, U.S. attorney for the District of Columbia and grandson of Francis Scott Key, author of the “Star Spangled Banner.”
Dan confronted Teresa on the night of February 26 with evidence of her shame and obtained a signed confession. The next day, the still distraught Sickles looked out his window only to see the unsuspecting Key attempting to signal Teresa. Overcome with rage, Sickles collected up two derringers and a revolver, then stormed out of the house toward Key. Raging forward, Sickles fired one of the revolvers. Key vainly attempted to flee through Lafayette Park, just across from the White House. Sickles kept firing, hitting Key multiple times and killing him.5
The trial that followed was a sensation, covered by newspapers nationwide. Sickles’ defense team included many of the finest legal minds of the day, including among other bright legal lights Edwin Stanton, Lincoln’s future secretary of war, as well as Francis Thomas Meagher, Irish nationalist and future commander of the famed Irish Brigade. Sickles’ defense was simple yet brilliant: temporary insanity brought on by Key’s vile seducing of Dan’s formerly fair and virtuous wife. Most papers supported Sickles, and when the verdict of “not guilty” was read, the jury stood and cheered. Sickles was riding a wave of popularity thanks to his decisive and manly action, but when the congressman kindly allowed the soiled Teresa back into his home, the press and public turned on him. With critics still reeling in disbelief over the acquittal of this admitted murderer, former supporters were shocked that he allowed his unfaithful wife’s act of betrayal to go unpunished; Sickles found himself standing alone.6
Sickles’ support had sunk so far he didn’t seek reelection in 1860. For several months he was a man without purpose. Then a new opportunity began to reveal itself: the United States was heading into civil war.
On April 14, 1861, Fort Sumter was shelled and taken by the Rebels. On that day Daniel Sickles became a rare breed of man, a war–Democrat. With many laying blame for the war at the feet of the Republican president, any Democrat who favored war against the South, especially a Democrat with the level of notoriety Sickles enjoyed, was a potential asset to the new Lincoln administration.
Soon after Fort Sumter, Sickles and some friends were enjoying drinks at fashionable Delmonico’s Restaurant in lower Manhattan. As Dan lamented his present circumstance of practicing law with his father and professed how he longed to join the Union cause, the conversation naturally turned towards war. As talk progressed, Sickles suggested to long-time friend Captain William Wiley that if Wiley would raise a company or regiment, Sickles would happily join it as a private. But after more discussion and more drinks, Wiley came to realize it was Sickles who possessed the leadership qualities, political ties, and drive for the raising of a regiment. Soon a counterproposal was completed: if Sickles would lead a regiment, Wiley would help raise, arm, and equip it. Enthusiastically, the two men quickly received authorization from Governor Edwin Morgan to raise a regiment and obtained $500 from a local Union Defense Committee to get started. After two weeks of handbill postings and speech making, which they ensured were generously covered by the local papers, Sickles and Wiley had their regiment of eight companies.7
About this same time, Lincoln issued a proclamation on May 3 calling for volunteers to serve three-year enlistments. Sickles had certainly been successful in raising his regiment; now Governor Morgan asked him to go further, to raise a brigade of five regiments. Sickles, for whom rank was not unimportant, leapt at the notion of wearing the single star of a brigadier general rather than the eagle of a colonel; the creation of his Excelsior Brigade was underway.8
Driven by patriotism, duty, war fever or whatever it might be called, men were attracted to Sickles’ sense of purpose and determination. Four hundred workers from the Navy Yards of New York joined, while a former colleague, Dennis Meehan, from the state assembly, brought another 100 men.9 Sickles even accepted men who traded jail terms for enlistment. By the middle of the month the man who had seemed alone in the world could now claim 3,000 men as his followers and comrades.10 Dan had his brigade.
Sickles had christened his congregation the Excelsior Brigade in deference to the state’s motto, meaning “ever upward.” The Excelsior title also had a secondary meaning beyond just reflecting the motto. By using the state’s motto, Sickles laid claim that this brigade, unlike regiments and brigades raised only from certain cities or counties, would represent all of New York State. While he did indeed have plenty of men hailing just from New York City, there were whole companies from the upper and western parts of the Empire State. There were also several entire companies of men from New Jersey, Michigan, Massachusetts and Pennsylvania, demonstrating that Sickles’ appeal extended not only to New York but to hundreds of men from outside the state, all anxious to get a crack at the Rebels.11
With forty companies either in hand or committed, and seemingly at the peak of his recruiting success, Sickles received a telegram from New York governor Morgan ordering him to disband all but eight of his companies. It would seem Sickles’ efforts were so successful in New York City that there was growing dissatisfaction from the interior counties. Some had to go: 2,000 men by Dan’s count. Soon word filtered out that the brigade had been disbanded, only independent regiments remained, and Dan was reduced back to colonel. But Sickles was sure he smelled the unmistakable stench of politics and was sure that Republican governor Morgan was looking to derail Democrat Sickles’ appointment to brigadier general. Figuring that two could play at politics, Sickles took the next train to Washington and arranged a meeting with Lincoln himself.
Dan proposed his brigade be accepted directly into Federal service as United States Volunteers, not state troops. Lincoln liked the idea but worried about what states might say in protest. Yet in the end, after consulting with Secretary of War Simon Cameron, the president instructed Sickles to hold his men in readiness and promised they would be accepted. On May 18, 1861, Lincoln granted special authority to Sickles to form his brigade of U.S. Volunteers.12 Sickles had managed to outmaneuver Governor Morgan. He still had his brigade and most importantly, had his provisional appointment to brigadier general.13
Back in New York things were not going so well. Wiley, acting as quartermaster for the brigade, was having difficulties handling the large number of men. Using the upscale Delmonico’s as his headquarters, Wiley had hired two cooks from the restaurant to feed his men. But the gourmet chefs were unskilled at meeting the needs of 3,000 hungry customers. To complicate matters, the cost of feeding the multitudes was enormous: $12,000 in the first two weeks alone, with the cost growing as more and more recruits filed in. Sanitation was also a growing problem as the brigade quickly outgrew the state barracks they were using for housing. The excess men were packed into rented lofts and apartments, many barren and unheated. Many men arrived with only the clothes on their backs. Lacking the basics such as soap and razors, they roamed the streets in an unshaven, disheveled manner, frightening the local ladies. Threatened with eviction by the health department, Sickles struck a deal with a local bath house and a Crosby Street barber to bathe, shave, and shear the entire brigade. The mass purification staved off the health department for a while, but many of the men were growing bored and disgusted.14 This was not the war they’d signed up for; they wanted at the Rebels.
With no disbanding of the brigade in sight, Governor Morgan started to fume over being both defied and outmaneuvered by Sickles. Given the deplorable state of Sickles’ men, Morgan easily justified expelling the Excelsiors from the state barracks. Sickles, knowing morale was suffering and his mob badly required a metamorphosis into real soldiers, needed to act quickly. First getting permission to camp his men at the Fashion Race Track on Long Island, Dan shortly after obtained consent from the Federal government to use some land on Staten Island until the brigade was sworn in.15
The nascent Excelsior Brigade moved to Staten Island near the middle of May. Here were the wide open spaces a general would need to build a command. Dan christened the place Camp Scott in honor of the revered Union general of the army, but still problems persisted. Few of the requested tents had arrived, forcing most of the men to sleep in open fields, subject to attack from millions of bloodthirsty mosquitoes. Dan partially remedied the situation with the purchase, on credit of course, of some circus tents from his old friend P.T. Barnum. But other shortages remained. The brigade had borrowed a mere 300 muskets, which necessitated their being shuttled among companies on drill. Food was in short supply, and fresh stocks soon spoiled due to lack of refrigeration. Needless to say, among Sickles’ recruits, many were becoming disillusioned with army life.16 There was also the great uncertainty of being neither U.S. nor state troops; plus, they were suffering a miserable existence with few supplies, little shelter, and even worse food. Some men tried to get out of the whole trying ordeal by claiming that the delays had voided the terms of their enlistments and as such were free to walk away. Malcontents who took flight soon found themselves under arrest. Sickles begged Lincoln for action but was told to hang on a few more days until a time recruiting officers would come “and take you all in out of the cold.”17
Within the brigade itself, the business of organizing the various regiments was underway, when the issue of soldier dissatisfaction came to a head. Enticed by bounties and the promise of early action, an entire company of 90 men attempted to desert in order to join another regiment forming across the bay in New York City. Arriving in the nick of time, Sickles ordered a detachment of men to head off the deserters. The detachment intercepted the would-be deserters at the points of rifle barrels before their ferry was able to depart Staten Island. A few hours later, when a captain and two lieutenants who had attempted to lure Dan’s men away came to Camp Scott inquiring about the 90, Sickles had the provocateurs arrested. A drumhead court martial was held for all officers involved; their sentence was execution at midnight. At the appointed hour just as the firing squad was taking position, sealed orders arrived, reprieving the men until the court’s findings could be submitted to Lincoln for approval.18 Similar incidents no doubt curtailed further defections, whether of groups or individuals. But just how much of this scene was real and how much was theater cooked up by Sickles to discourage dissent may never be known.
By the beginning of June nearly all of the elements were in place for forming a brigade. City men had endured the greatest upheaval throughout April and May, enduring cold barracks, lice and nights on Staten Island without tents. Men from upstate and western New York who belonged to established families with good community support arrived at the end of May or early June and spent their time waiting either at home or in hotels as the companies reached full strength.19 These groups of men, formed from local militias, arrived fully outfitted with uniforms and rifles while metropolitan men scrounged for nearly everything. But slowly the regiments were coming together.
Johnson’s company of men left Delaware County to join Sickles on June 4, and their departure was both emotional and exciting. The Bloomville Mirror recorded the scene, which was no doubt repeated hundreds of times across the North:
The Company were escorted through the village by the Delhi Fire Companies, preceded by the Brass Band and Martial Music. In front of Edgerton’s Hotel, they were addressed by Hon. S. Gordon, who concluded by presenting the volunteers with 100 Havelocks, the generous offering of the ladies of Delhi. [A havelock is a cloth covering that fits over a cap to protect the neck from sun.] Remarks were also made by Hon. J.A. Hughston and Capt. R.T. Johnson, after which prayer was offered by Rev. A.D. Benedict. Teams were then driven up to convey them to the Railroad at Hancock, the parting scene enacted, and amid loud cheers by a large assemblage, the volunteers left the village. All along the route, the citizens cheered them on their way and in return received the cheers of the “bold soger boys.” When near Walton, they were met by the Walton Band and Fire companies, who led the procession into the village under the direction of Gen. Bassett and Maj. Mead. The citizens furnished dinner for the company at the Hotels of E. Launt and S.W. Smith. The Band and Firemen escorted the company out of the village, and we left amid the cheers and congratulations of those assembled.
We arrived at Hancock about dark, and took supper at Judson’s and Hunter’s Hotels. Several persons enlisted at Hamden, Walton and Hancock. We believe only two that had joined the company could not be found when the roll was called before taking the cars.
In the evening, a meeting was held in the public hall, which most of the volunteers attended. Remarks were made by Judge Palmer B.F. Gerowe, F. Jacobs Jr., Rev. Mr. Carl J.P. Sanford and “Champ.” Great enthusiasm was manifested to defend the Government and sustain the honor of the Stars and Stripes.
About 2½ o’clock Wednesday morning we embarked for New York on board of the cars. We numbered about 115. By an arrangement between the State and the Railroad Company, no fare was charged the volunteers. During the journey, the company gave vent to their patriotic feeling, by frequent cheers and singing National songs. We reached New York about 9 o’clock meeting many Delaware county people at the depot. After taking a “smile” at the Libby House, we reported ourselves at the City Hall. Here we waited some time, for acceptance, after which (about 10 o’clock) we marched to the Rainbow Hotel and took breakfast. We showed the proprietor a specimen of tall eating and if marched to battle the company hoped to show some tall fighting. Justice being done to the edibles, we marched about the Park to see and be seen, and then started for the ferry boat at Pier No. 2 and crossed to Vanderbilt’s Landing, on board the Josephine. After a brisk march some two miles, we entered Camp Scott.20
Sickles’ brigade comprised five regiments, and they bore the designations of First through Fifth Excelsior. On June 3, 1861, the new Third Regiment, Excelsior Brigade, issued its first general order. Nelson Taylor was appointed colonel of the new Third Excelsior, and his first order was a simple one. It established the daily schedule: reveille, meals, drills and finally the drummer’s call to turn-in, Tattoo. It also designated there to be eight companies, lettered A through H, and named the captains commanding each.21
Taylor was not new to the army or to administration. The 39-year-old Connecticut native had served as a captain with First New York Infantry during the war with Mexico but had been stationed in California the entire time. After the war he mustered out and stayed in California, settling in Stockton. In 1849 he was elected to the state senate and later, in 1855, became sheriff of San Joaquin County. Shortly afterwards, he returned to New York and graduated from Harvard Law School in 1860, the same year he unsuccessfully ran for congress as a Democrat.22 When regimental colonelcies were being handed out, his prominence and Democratic leanings made it likely he was well known to Sickles. “Col. Nelson Taylor, our commanding officer, is a tall, dark complexioned man of fine military appearance, and pleasant and affable, though dignified, in address,” wrote one private, adding, “He has served in Mexico and California, and will, therefore, be just the man for a campaign in a low latitude.”23
Mid-June the supply problem was starting to work itself out. Arthur McKinstry was part of Steven’s company and son of the local newspaperman. Beginning immediately after departure for Staten Island, young Arthur wrote frequent, homey letters, which were then published in the Fredonia Censor, all beginning, “Dear Uncles.” Among his first letters was his take on living conditions at Camp Scott:
Our domicils [sic] are about ten feet square and lodge 8 men each. There is quite a little village here, with regular, streets and a population of about 2,500, as near as I make out. We are supplied with rubber blankets, got up to be used as shawls in wet weather and we spread them on the ground under us and then esconce [sic] ourselves in a pair of woolen blankets, and this with our boots for a pillow, constitutes a bed.24
For the boys coming from out West, the gulf between their companies and the companies raised from the city could not have been wider. While cheering crowds saw the well-uniformed and educated Chautauqua boys off to war, the city companies seemed to have filled their ranks from the local bars, brothels, and back alleys.25 McKinstry, writing to his “uncles” near mid-month, reported:
Those who were not uniformed when they left home are not yet any better off in that respect than when they started. We are of course in excellent trim, which we owe to the liberality of our friends and the active exertion of the ladies.
Our boys, the Jamestown boys, and the few other companies, occupy the northern part of the ground, and the rest is occupied by, the Lord only knows who. They are the very dregs of humanity, and are raked up from the Points and other places of similar repute. Some are coatless, more hatless, and not a few have blankets girt around them to cover the deficiency of pantaloons. All are outrageously filthy, but as no object in nature is without its use, so they furnish an inexhaustible fund of merriment, more especially when one of them is drummed out with shaven poll to the tune of the “Rogue’s March,” for some precious piece of rascality.26
During that early summer of ’61, both the regiment and entire brigade were unsettled. Whole companies of men were added here and there in an attempt to get each regiment close to its full recommended strength of one thousand men. Many companies were started from scratch thanks to the exertions of motivated men while others formed around existing militia units. Some companies “failed to retain their organization” for whatever reason and were either disbanded or incorporated into other regiments. Those “failed” company letter designations would be reassigned later. Of Third Excelsior’s original eight companies, C, G and H failed to retain their organization.27 In July, the local Fredonia paper reported Colonel Forbes of the 68th Militia resisted allowing Company C, another one of his companies, to join Taylor. The article gave no explanation for Forbes’ resistance to the company joining Third Excelsior. And while it was true the other regiments in Sickles’ brigade were primarily composed of men from New York City, the same couldn’t be said about Taylor’s boys. Of the ten companies eventually composing the third regiment, only three, A, the new C, and K, were from the city. Company F was from Newark, New Jersey; I from Delhi in the middle part of the state; and the remaining five all from western counties.28 Third Excelsior certainly lived up to Sickles’ pledge of representing the entire state. During the third week in June, two regular army officers finally arrived at Camp Scott to muster Sickles’ weary troops directly into Federal service as United States Volunteers.
Companies D and E were mustered in on June 20. William O. Stevens, the Dunkirk district attorney and efficient militia captain, commanded Company D, which had always been the sharpest and best organized of the companies, having won the privilege of traveling into the city to participate in the procession sending the famous Seventh New York off to war.29 So it was no surprise that the honor of being the first mustered went there. The 33-year-old Caspar K. Abell served as the company’s first lieutenant, and 29-year-old Hugh Hinman enrolled as second lieutenant. Keeping the western feel of this first day of mustering was company E, the other batch of 68th militiamen from Dunkirk. Twenty-nine-year-old Patrick Barrett enrolled as E’s captain while William O’Neal and William Toomey enrolled as first and second lieutenants, respectively.30
This early war picture shows the command staff of Company A. Left to right are Captain George Grecheneck, First Lieutenant Charles Grossinger and Second Lieutenant Edward B. Harnett. Grecheneck would die of wounds received at Williamsburg, Grossinger resigned in June of ’62, and Harnett would survive the war. By July of 1864 only a few of the officers who started with the regiment remained (Third Excelsior Association).
A few days earlier the Dunkirk paper had recorded the departure of the two companies from the local depot:
Yesterday was an eventful day in our village. It opened bright and balmy, the first really comfortable day for weeks.… The flag was presented in a neat and appropriate speech by H.A. Risley Esq. to Capt. Barrett who replied, but very briefly, overcome by his own emotions. The boquets [sic] were presented, and the procession formed…. Arrived at the Depot there was no time for the farewell address, and the soldiers immediately filed into the cars. The Depot and the walk leading to it for some distance was filled long before the procession reached it. The scene there was exceedingly touching, but passes description; warm grasps were given, parents parted from children, wives from husbands, brothers from sisters, lovers from each other. In tender sympathy, tears poured in torrents from hundreds of eyes. The boys carried away with them the warm wishes of the whole community.31
The next day the remainder of the regiment mustered in. Company A was a German company, reflecting the nation’s largest ethnic minority. Though the company was organized in New York, men from all over the north joined. Its captain, 36-year-old George Grecheneck, was a Hungarian engineer who had participated as an officer in the failed Hungarian Revolution of the 1840s. Exiled from Hungary, he settled in Iowa, where he worked as a surveyor and land agent before finding his way to Taylor’s regiment.32 Charles Grossinger, who was nearly Grecheneck’s age at 35, served as the company’s first lieutenant, with Edward Harnett serving as second lieutenant.33 Captain James M. Brown’s company from Jamestown was also mustered in this day and was designated as Company B. Brown was 36 at the time and had served as an army surgeon during the Mexican War; he had shared a tent with then–Lt. Ulysses Grant for nearly 18 months. Soon after war with Mexico, Brown left medicine to pursue a career in law and was member of a prominent law firm in Jamestown when Lincoln called for volunteers.34 The 34-year-old Dawin Willard enrolled as the company’s first lieutenant, and was one of the few men with any real army experience beyond local militias, having served for two years in the U.S. Mounted Rifles as a young man. Thirty-two-year-old Alfred Mason enrolled as the company’s junior lieutenant. Company F formed around a militia company located in Newark, New Jersey, that was under the command of John Leonard. The Irish-born Leonard had served in the Ninth U.S. Infantry for five years. As a sergeant, he commanded a small outpost in Washington State for two years.35 Upon expiration of his term of service in 1860, Leonard returned to Newark and was made captain of the militia. He was only 24 when F was sworn into service. Thirty-one-year-old Henry McConnell and 32-year-old John Holmes served Leonard as his senior and junior lieutenants. Finally, the boys from Delhi in central New York were mustered in as Company I, 29-year-old Robert Johnson as captain, with John Sandford and Hugh Winters serving as first and second lieutenants respectively.36
The experience of the Company I men was no doubt typical for thousands of men across the state. After assembling in Delhi, the center of recruiting efforts, men boarded the train for a two-day trip into New York City. Following a hearty breakfast at 11 a.m., the men moved immediately the four miles to Staten Island. Farmer Charles W. Gould wrote his sister the Sunday after arriving about his physical surroundings:
Accommodations here for some are not so good as they expected, but I have it a little easier. Shortly after I came here I became servant for the first lieutenant John P. Sanford. I have just been out on parade. It is very hot and the excitement is very intense. The captain Robert T. Johnson has just left his tent in my hands and has gone to the seashore to bath.…
These Third Excelsior Regiment colors were issued to the regiment before it was given its numerical designation in the spring of 1862. The regiment would be issued two more sets of colors before being dissolved (Brown, History of the Third Regiment).
For breakfast we have three large crackers and some beef. For dinner it is bread with coffee or soup. For supper we have the same again.…
There are about six hundred tents made of white canvas and properly arranged, presenting a handsome appearance.37
But however handsome he may have found the layout of the tents, his thoughts about the moral conditions were something else:
It is Sunday, but Sunday in not regarded here. The drums are beating all day and firing off muskets with reports of pistols continually elate the ear.…
The men here are of the roughest kind. Gambling, fighting, and swearing seem to be the principal amusement. Little thinking that a vast number will never see home again. There are two rows of guards. Men attempting to go by them occasionally get stabbed.38
Almost immediately, two of those companies that failed to retain organization were reassigned to new, fresh bodies of men. Isaac L. Chadwick, a machinist from New York City, by his own account spent $2,000 of his own money raising a company. On July 21, 1861, he and his mostly New York City boys mustered into Third Excelsior as the new company C, with the 27-year-old Chadwick as captain. Chadwick had a direct connection to regimental command; his second wife was related to Colonel Nelson Taylor. Three days later a new company G was mustered in. This was another batch of boys from western New York, where brothers Harmon and Collins Bliss had been active recruiting around Westfield. Many of the men were members of the same militia company earlier rebuffed by Colonel Forbes.39 The Bliss brothers now served as captain and first lieutenant, respectively, with the elder Harmon in command. As for a new Company H, that would have to wait until later.
With the vast bulk of the brigade mustered in, uproarious shouts of “On to Richmond!” filled the air around Camp Scott; the men were sure they would soon be on the move. But move they didn’t. Two weeks later, on July 4, Sickles’ men were still in camp. Celebrating the nation’s birthday, the Excelsior Brigade heard a reading of the Declaration of Independence then passed in review of their patron Sickles, who afterwards offered them a patriotic address.40
Taylor continued to organize, drill and prepare his men of the Third Excelsior throughout June and the early part of July for what 18-year-old Company B private Henri LeFevre-Brown would later call “the sterner duties of war.” William Stevens, the dashing captain from Dunkirk, came to prominence immediately and was offered the position of major. But not until a vote was taken of his company, granting their approval, did he accept. Stevens was promoted on June 25 with Lt. Abell promoted to replace him that same day. David Parker, the energetic boy who’d walked all night to join Company B, had now come to the notice of his officers, so when Taylor needed someone who could “write plainly” in order to maintain regimental record keeping, David’s name was submitted.41 He wasn’t excused from all drill and fatigue duties, but this meant he’d be spending a fair amount of time in the relative ease of headquarters. On the 9th of July, Second Lieutenant Alfred Mason was sent back to western New York on a three-fold mission: to find more men to fill the ranks of existing companies, to recruit an entire company if possible, and to recruit men for a regimental band.42
Two weeks after Mason left, Taylor had a start to his band. Eight members of the Jamestown Cornet Band came to Staten Island, with several more musicians from Dunkirk and Fredonia arriving a few days later. Alexander Peters, who had intended to serve as a private with Company C, was now made principal musician and charged with overseeing the 23-man band.43
As military organization within the brigade and regiments were coming together, Sickles and Captain Wiley struggled with yet another problem, creditors. The two founders of the Excelsior Brigade were deep in debt for food, rent, supplies, horses, forage, fuel, tents, and a thousand other items needed to maintain a brigade; in just two months, the bill had run up to nearly $400,000. Sickles sought to delay creditors’ claims on the assumption that the bills would eventually be paid by Federal authorities, yet the creditors were adamant about receiving payment before Sickles was called to the front. The creditors wanted their payments now, and they wanted them in cash.
Even as some Excelsiors were being mustered in on July 21, with Sickles and Wiley cajoling merchants and landlords, the Union army was meeting with disaster at Bull Run. Though it was a grievous defeat for the nation, for Sickles and his brigade it was a curiously fortuitous event. Following the defeat, Secretary of War Cameron sent an urgent order for the Excelsior Brigade to report to Washington for defense of the capital. Eagerly the Excelsiors began to stir into action. It seemed the creditors would have to wait.44