CHAPTER SIX
Military Regulations
Another cause of irritation was the offensive conduct of soldiers composing the garrisons, which provoked collisions with the more impetuous citizens. In 1865 the federal soldiers in Tuscaloosa, Greensboro, Eutaw and other towns subjected the people to very offensive regulations. Only a few examples need be mentioned as exhibiting the temper of both sides: The former soldiers of the Confederacy, having no means with which to replenish their wardrobes, wore their uniforms. The federals threatened, and sometimes attempted, to cut the buttons from the old gray coats, and the proud wearers were forced to resort to the expedient of covering them with thin cloth rather than let them serve as a pretext for insults. Flags were stretched across the sidewalks, so that pedestrians would have to pass under them. To defeat the obvious purpose, men and women, in going about, resorted to the roadway or diverged from the sidewalks at points where the flags were placed. In some instances these unwilling and protesting people were seized and forced under the flags. These and other practices, devised to provoke the people to exhibitions of hostility, caused severe smarting. Perhaps many young men who had received war schooling were not reluctant to encounter their former antagonists.
A memorable tragedy, with annoying consequences, resulted from such an encounter. August 31, 1865, election day, the brothers Tom and Toode Cowan, formerly heroic members of Forrest’s cavalry, became involved in a controversy with a squad of soldiers of the garrison in Greensboro; in the resulting affray pistols were used; the younger Cowan killed one of the soldiers, while his brother dangerously wounded another. The slayer mounted a horse and escaped, but the intrepid Tom scorned flight and yielded only to overpowering numbers. Intense excitement prevailed; the enraged soldiers sprang to arms, seized Cowan, and, defying their officers, prepared to hang the prisoner. At the critical moment came a message from the wounded man, generously acknowledging he was the aggressor and pleading for a fair trial for Cowan. This appeased the military mob and the prisoner was locked up. That night squads of cavalry roamed the country, ostensibly seeking the fugitive, but really to disarm and arrest the planters. Mr. Cowan was tried and acquitted. His brother was not apprehended.
In some cases the soldiers were insubordinate and manifested hostility to the people. One notable example in illustration is recalled: During the hours of darkness soldiers burned the Episcopal church in Demopolis. Some of them were detected with articles stolen from the sacred edifice, and the colonel was requested to have the impious robbers arrested. That officer declined to make the order, because the guilty men were dangerous characters and would seek revenge if called to account. Indeed, they threatened that when transferred from Demopolis they would set fire to the town. To prevent the execution of this purpose, another colonel was substituted for the commander of the regiment, and he placed sentinels around the quarters and marched the men away in ignorance of the fact that it was their final departure.
In Greensboro, in 1867, was enacted another regrettable tragedy, the attendant circumstances of which intensified the growing hostility between the races. John C. Orick shot and killed Aleck Webb, negro register of voters. The shooting occurred in daylight and on one of the principal sidewalks. Orick calmly retired from the scene, locked the doors of his store, and in disguise fled the town.
Orick was a bold, dashing and handsome young man who had won enviable laurels in the war. When hardly more than a boy, his adventurous spirit impelled him to leave home without parental consent and attach himself to Colonel Mosby’s command. One of his achievements is worthy of mention here: As an “observer” he visited Baltimore and Washington, and in the latter city ascertained the time of departure of the army pay train on the Baltimore and Ohio railroad. Reporting to his commander the valuable information he had acquired, successful plans were formed for the capture of the train by Mosby’s command. With his share of the booty obtained in this enterprise, Orick, after the final surrender, purchased a stock of goods and established himself in business in Greensboro.
The negroes of the town and vicinity bitterly resented the killing of Webb, and during the night large bands of them roamed the surrounding country, avowedly seeking the slayer, but really bent on any mischief for which opportunity might offer. One band went to the Gewin premises. A young man, a member of the family, in his night clothes and barefooted, was encountered in the yard. Seeing that the marauders intercepted retreat to the house, Gewin fled to the woods, hotly pursued. After a chase which extended for a mile, over rough fields and woods, the fleeing man was overhauled, tied to the bare back of a horse and conveyed to the office of Dr. Blackford, in Greensboro. After a lengthy parley, his friends secured his release.
At dusk the town was thronged with infuriated armed negroes, who threatened to apply the torch. After some of the leading citizens had vainly expostulated with them, the whites armed themselves and prepared to expel them by force; but when Gewin was released, the negroes retired, sullenly, and a clash was averted.
The Gewin family and its connections comprised a considerable number of brave and resolute men, of remarkably fine physique, and they and their friends were indignant with Blackford, the probate judge, because of the suspicion that he had directed the negroes who committed the outrage,—a suspicion justified by the fact that Gewin was conveyed to Blackford’s office. Everybody sympathized with them. It was said that Blackford told the negroes they should avenge the killing of Webb, and that he instigated the incendiary threats, and he was thenceforward regarded as a factor of disturbance in the community.