Slavery and four years of war

by Joseph Warren Keifer

Before this I had ventured to try a few law cases before justices of the peace, both in the country, in villages, and in the city, and I had some professional triumphs, occasionally over a regular attorney, but more commonly meeting the "pettifogger," who was of a class once common, and not to be despised as "rough and tumble," ad captandum, advocates in justices' courts. They often knew some crude law, and they never knew enough to concede a point or that they were wrong.

My studies went on in much the usual way until I was admitted to the bar, January 12, 1858, by the Supreme Court of Ohio, at Columbus. I recognize now more than I did then that my preparation for the profession of the law, which demands knowledge of almost all things, ancient, modern, scientific, literary, historical, etc., was wholly defective. All knowledge is called into requisition by a general and successful legal practitioner. My early deficiency in learning, and the many interruptions in the course of about forty years, have imposed the necessity of close and constant application. On being admitted to the bar, I determined to visit other parts and places before locating. I visited Toledo; it was then muddy, ragged, unhealthful, and unpromising. Chicago was then next looked over. It was likewise apparently without promise. The streets were almost impassable with mire. The sidewalks were seldom continuously level for a square. The first floors of some buildings were six to ten feet above those of others beside them. So walking on the sidewalks was an almost constant going up and down steps. There was then no promise of its almost magic future. At Springfield, Illinois, I saw and heard, in February, 1858, before the Supreme Court, an ungainly appearing man, called Abe Lincoln. He was arguing the application of a statute of limitations to a defective tax title to land. He talked very much in a conversational way to the judges, and they gave attention, and in a Socratic way the discussion went on. I did not see anything to specially attract attention to Mr. Lincoln, save that he was awkward, ungainly in build, more than plain in features and dress, his clothes not fitting him, his trousers being several inches too short, exposing a long, large, unshapely foot, roughly clad. But he was even then, by those who knew him best, regarded as intellectually and professionally a great man. When I next saw him (March 25, 1865, twenty days before his martyrdom) he looked much the same, except better dressed, though he was then President of the United States and Commander-in- Chief of its Army and Navy. He appeared on both occasions a sad man, thoughtful and serious. The last time I saw him he was watching the result of an assault on the enemy's outer line of works from Fort Fisher in front of Petersburg, the day Fort Stedman was carried and held for a time by the Confederates.

I also visited St. Louis, and took a look at its narrow (in old part) French streets; thence I went to Cairo, the worst, in fact and appearance, of all. In going alone on foot along the track of the Illinois Central Railroad from Cairo to Burkeville Junction, in crossing the Cash bottoms, or slashes, I was assailed by two of a numerous band of highwaymen who then inhabited those parts, and was in danger of losing my life. In a struggle on the embankment one of the two fell from the railroad bed to the swamp at its side, and on being disengaged from the other I proceeded without being further molested to my destination.

By March 1, 1858, I was again at home, resolved to practise law in my native county, at Springfield, where I opened an office for that purpose. To locate to practise a profession among early neighbors and friends has its disadvantages. The jealous and envious will not desire or aid you to succeed; others, friendly enough, still will want you to establish a reputation before they employ you.

All will readily, however, espouse your friendship, and proudly claim you as their school-mate, neighbor, and dearest friend when you have demonstrated you do not need their patronage.

I did succeed, in a way, from the beginning, and was not without a good clientage, and some good employments. I was prompt, faithful, and persistently loyal to my clients' interests, trying never to neglect them even when they were small. Then litigations were sharper generally than at present, and often, as now understood, unnecessary. The court-term was once looked forward to as a time for a lawyer to earn fees; now it is, happily, otherwise with the more successful and better lawyers. Commercial business is too tender to be ruthlessly shocked by bitter litigations. Disputes between successful business men can be settled usually now in good lawyers' offices on fair terms, saving bitterness, loss of time, and expensive or prolonged trials. A just, candid, and good attorney should make more and better fees by his advice and counsel and in adjusting his client's affairs in his office than by contentions in a trial court-room.

I was an active member of the Independent Rover Fire Company in Springfield, and with it ran to fires and worked on the brakes of a hand-engine, etc.

I gave little attention to matters outside of the law, though a little to a volunteer militia company of which I was a member; for a time a lieutenant, then in 1860 brigade-major on a militia brigadier's staff. We staff officers wore good clothes, much tinsel, gaudy crimson scarfs, golden epaulets, bright swords with glistening scabbards, rose horses in a gallop on parade occasions and muster days, yet knew nothing really military—certainly but little useful in war. We knew a little of company drill and of the handling of the old-fashioned muster.

My wife (Eliza Stout) was of the same Stout family of New Jersey from whence came my maternal grandmother. She was born at Springfield, Ohio, July 11, 1834, and died there March 12, 1899.

Her father, Charles Stout, and mother, Margaret (McCord) Stout, emigrated from New Jersey, on horseback, in 1818, to Ohio, first settling at Cadiz, then at Urbana, and about 1820 in Clark County. The McCords were Scotch-Irish, from County Tyrone. Thus in our children runs the Scotch-Irish blood, with the German, Dutch, Welsh, English, and what not—all, however, Aryan in tongue, through the barbaric, Teutonic tribes of northern Europe.