CIVIL WAR STORY FROM HALE COUNTY

          

  CIVIL WAR 1861-1865

I really enjoyed researching this part of the family history. I had found 282 (and probably missed a few) family members that fought in the Civil War. I believe I could have written another book just on this research. After the research, I never knew that growing up in Moundville, Alabama that there was a Civil War Camp there. There is not a lot of history on it in the books. 

Moundville Civil War

The Alabama Great Southern railroad runs through the west side of town. Originally, Moundville was called Carthage and was located just north of the present town. Carthage was established as a town in 1823 by the Alabama legislature and held their first election of town president and council in 1824. Carthage has been known for some time as Moundville. In late 1864 and early 1865, a camp for dismounted troopers of Brig. Gen. Samuel W. Ferguson's Brigade existed at Carthage. (Moundville) It is my understanding that a substantial number of men from this dismounted camp (perhaps 200) were part of the scratch command employed by General Forrest to fight Wilson's advance on the road between Montevallo and Selma.

I have put this story of the Civil War in here because it had to do with family members from Perry & Hale County. It took place in Greensboro, Alabama.

Hale County Civil War Story

On the morning of August 31st, 1865, three Federal

soldiers from this camp were seen strolling leisurely up

the Main street of Greensboro. When they came to the

general merchandise store of Robert B. Waller, Jr., —

located two doors west of the present Masonic Hall

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 building — they entered, and called for some fruit, which

was passed over to them. They stood around chatting

with each other and eating the fruit, and when they

were about to leave the store, Mr. Waller asked for the

price of their purchase, which they refused to pay, and

with an oath left the store and continued on up the

street. The merchant felt outraged over the treatment,

and upon going to the door he saw the Captain of the

Company to which the men belonged standing in front

of the Tunstall building, and he immediately went to

him and reported the conduct of his men. The Captain

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 asked Waller to point the offenders out to him, which

he did. He called them to him, and demanded, in a most

positive manner, that they pay for the goods at once;

and he further informed them that if he ever heard of

their being guilty of like conduct he would have them

tied up by their thumbs.

The soldiers paid the money rather reluctantly, looked

very sullen, but said nothing. Dismissing the matter

from his mind, Mr. Waller returned to his store and

began to wait on customers who had come in during his

absence.

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 Sitting in front of the store, enjoying the bright sun-

shine, was Robert Jeffries, and in his lap was seated

W. S. (Tood) Cowin, a young man who had seen much

service in the Confederate army. Tood" Cowin was sitting near the large door to the left when struck by Federal soldier.

After consulting together

up the street the three soldiers, who had been made to pay the debt they owed Waller, came back to

the store, and without a word of warning one of the men,

Jos. Adams, of Co. H, 11th Missouri Infantry, struck

Cowin a most vicious blow in the face with a slung shot

— mistaking him (it is supposed) for the merchant who

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 had reported the men to the Captain. Writhing with

pain from the sudden and unexpected blow, and with

the gleam of a tiger in his eyes, Cowin sprang from his

seat, drew his pistol and fired on his assailant, but miss-

ed him. Adams retreated hastily across the street towards

Stollenwerck's drug store, and as he retreated he looked back to watch Cowin. When he had nearly

reached the opposite sidewalk, Cowin steadied his pistol

by laying it across his left arm, took deliberate aim and

remarked, "Now d n you, I'll get you," pulled the

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 trigger and sent a ball crashing through the brain of

Adams, who fell dead in his tracks.

When Cowin fired the first shot and missed his man,,

another of the Federal soldiers, S. Bryant of Co. D, 11th

Missouri Regiment, who was standing near, quickly pull-

ed his pistol and was in the act of shooting him at close

range, when Tom Cowin, a brother of "Tood" shot

Bryant down before he could get his pistol in position.

The ball entered his side, and he fell in the gutter. The

wound, while quite severe, did not prove fatal.

The pistol shots soon attracted a large crowd to the

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 street, and in a short while the soldiers began to pour

into the town from the camp, which was located in the

rear of the residence of Col. George Erwin. They raged

and swore and were beside themselves with anger when

they learned what had transpired, and demanded, in their

frenzy, to.be shown the man who had killed their comrade.

Cowin saw the storm gathering and walked off down

the street, but before he had gone a great many steps-

he was recognized by some Federals who had witnessed

the difficulty, and a number of the soldiers made for him,

but Cowin faced them and kept them at bay by present-

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 ing the ugly looking weapon with which he had killed

the man who was lying in the street a short distance

away. When he had walked sidewise to Powers' store,

keeping the men back with the presented pistol, he noticed

a horse hitched in front of the store — a magnificent

animal that had been ridden into town that morning by

some one from Gen. Cocke's plantation, to whom the

horse belonged. She was a thoroughbred racer, and

many times had come down the home-stretch a winner

on the race-track. Now fully realizing his great danger,

Cowin sprang from the sidewalk, cut the bridle reins, leaped into the saddle and clapped his heels into

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 the sides of the splendid charger. With a snort of fright

at the unexpected treatment, she reared and then bounded

away as if on the wings of the wind, while the air re-

sounded with the angry shouts of the soldiers calling

to those past whom the horse and rider were sweeping,

to "stop him! Stop him!"

Seeing that the man they most desired to capture was

about to elude their grasp, half a dozen or more soldiers

quickly secured horses and started in pursuit at break-

neck speed. On and on sped the thoroughbred racer.

She was in her element, and seemed to enjoy the wild

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 dash down the public highway. And wildly and furiously

also rode the pursuers. But only once or twice did they catch even a glimpse of horse and rider as they

sped down some long, straight stretch of road, and then

the crack of their pistols rang out on the air — but only

with the effect of causing the noble racer to quicken her

pace just a little. When about six miles out of town —

to the westward — Cowin checked his horse and looked

around to see if he could catch a glimpse of his pursuers,

but no trace of them could be discovered. He then left

the main road, and went into a thicket on a hill overlook-

ing the surrounding country. From this position, a short

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 while afterwards, he saw his pursuers, with horses under

whip and spur, pass on down the road, and also saw them

when on their return from their fruitless effort to capture

or kill him. The next day, Cowin was in Mississippi.

Pandemonium reigned on the streets of Greensboro.

Tom Cowin, who had wounded the soldier who had undertaken

to shoot his brother, passed rapidly through Waller’s

store — the doors being shut behind him by some

one within — went into the back yard and came out to

Main street near Powers' store. He was recognized by

the Federals, and was immediately taken in charge by

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 an angry mob, who swore they would hang him at once.

A proposition was submitted that if they would wait un-

til sundown, an effort would be made to have his brother

"Tood" come in and give himself up, which proposition

was agreed to; but the half dozen soldiers who had re-

turned from the pursuit had but little hope that he

would ever be overtaken, for they reported that they

had ridden hard and furiously after him, but to no

avail — that all traces of him were lost.

Then Captain Kelley stepped to where the dead soldier

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 was lying in the street, placed his sword across the

body, and with a terrible oath swore that if the man

who had slain his comrade was not delivered up to the

soldiers by the going down of the sun, then, by all the

gods, he purposed to hang Tom Cowin, and burn and

sack the town.

Squads of soldiers were deputized to go to every house

in Greensboro and take therefrom all weapons, and to

disarm all the citizens. Realizing the extreme gravity

of the situation, and that the town was entirely at the

mercy of the frenzied Federals, some of the citizens

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 slipped a runner out of town on a fleet horse to Marion,

Ala., where the colonel of the regiment (Lieut.- Col.

Green), was stationed at that time.

While awaiting the delivery of "Tood" Cowin to them

by the citizens, the soldiers broke open Waller's store,

where the difficulty began, and threw all the goods into

the street. As the hours passed by the soldiers drank

more freely of whiskey, grew more turbulent, and it

seemed to those who had sent the messenger to Marion

that he would never return. Minutes seemed hours.

The sun began to sink in the west, and still the man

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 the soldiers so much desired to get into their possession

did not appear. They placed a rope around Tom Cowin’s

neck led him in front of the hotel — which his father kept — threw one end over a sign board, and stood

facing the west, watching for the going down of the sun.

Cowin's father stood by and urged him to die like a man,

and he replied that he proposed to do so. Not a tremor

passed over him, and not a trace of fear could be discerned

in his face as he looked defiance at those who had

him at their mercy.

When hope had gone, and the citizens thought the

very worst would happen, the sound of horses' feet was

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 heard, and looking eastward, they saw approaching at

breakneck speed, two horses with distended nostrils and

flecked with foam, drawing a buggy in which were two

men — one of them proving to be the Colonel of the Regiment

Hastily alighting from the vehicle, he pushed his

way into the midst of the vast crowd of angry, turbulent

soldiers, and went to where Cowin was standing with the

rope around his neck. With fire in his eye, and anger

in his tone, he demanded of the Captain what he meant

by allowing those under his command to be guilty of

such conduct. The Captain related the circumstances of

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 the killing of one soldier and the wounding of another

by the Co wins, and said he thought he was justifiable.

The Colonel replied that it was contrary to military law

to hang a man without giving him the benefit of a court-

martial, and that he might consider himself under arrest.

Turning to the troops, he ordered them to fall into

ranks. Some of them began to murmur disapproval.

The Colonel stepped into the street, drew his pistol, and

again commanded them in a loud voice to "fall in," and

swore that the first man who refused to obey the coma did

would be shot dead in his tracks. This seemed

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 to restore their reason; they fell into ranks and were

marched back to camp.

The rope was removed from Tom Cowin's neck and

he was also taken to the camp, where he was held as a

prisoner. Frank Peterson (Dr. Francis M. Peterson,

former President of the Girls' Industrial School at Montevallo,

who died March 21, 1908) went out to the camp and was permitted to spend the night with his friend.

The next day, Cowin was taken to Tuscaloosa under

heavy guard, and placed in prison, to await trial for

shooting the federal soldier (from which he subsequently

escaped.)

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 There is a bit of romance connected with his escape

from prison, which shows the devotion of the Southern

woman to the Confederate soldier, A beautiful young

lady, who was a staunch friend of Cowin's, set herself

to work to liberate him.

She was very pretty and most charming and fascinating

in her manners. The young lieutenant, who was in charge of the prisoners, fell in love with this

sweet Southern girl, and as the two strolled about the

streets of classic old Tuscaloosa, or watched the placid

flow of the river hard by the city, she would plead with

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 him earnestly to allow Cowin, the friend of her child-

hood, to escape from prison. For days and days, and

time and again the young officer refused to grant the

petition — stating that his honor and his position would

not permit him to do so. Finally the young lady told

him that she would never consent to marry him until

her friend was a free man, and reinforced the statement

by telling the officer never to see her again. A short

time after this, Cowin was missing from prison. How

he escaped or whither he went, no one knew.

It would be a pleasing close to this bit of romance

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 to be able to state that the young lady married the young

officer — or at least that she married her friend for whom

she pleaded — but the truth of history requires it to be

said that she did neither, but in the after years married

another man.

Neither of the Cowins was ever captured by the Federal

officers. As the years passed on, and affairs quieted

down, both of them returned to Greensboro, and re-

sided here for quite a while — "Tood" Cowin died in the

town a few years after the killing of the soldier; and

Tom Cowin, after keeping the Greensboro Hotel for some

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 time, went to Birmingham, where he kept a hotel. From

there he went to Anniston, where he died June 27, 1890.

Both the men were Confederate soldiers, and were brave

and courageous at all times. They are buried in the

Greensboro cemetery.

It was never known certainly what influence was used

to secure the safety of the Cowins after they had shot

the soldiers, as related above, but it developed, in the

course of time, that their father, who was quite well-to-

do at the time of the trouble, had parted with nearly all

his worldly possessions — and it was whispered about that

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 he had let somebody have in the neighborhood of twenty

thousand dollars — possibly in the nature of a loan.

As the last words of this bit of tragic history are pen-

ned, we pause for a few moments and look out upon the

streets where, nearly half century ago, men were crazed, and, in their fearful passion, raged and surged

like the mighty waves when the wind is at war with

the ocean. But a far different scene from that presents

itself to view. True, there stands the self-same building

in which the awful tragedy begun ; and there, too, stands

the self-same hotel before which the angry soldiers stood

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 with halter around the neck of their intended victim,

watching for the going down of the sun; the same blue

sky bends above, and the same sun they watched has

continued to make his rounds through all the many days

that have gone to swell the mighty volume of the past

since that far-off time.

But no discordant note is heard — no soldiers' tread, no

clang of arms nor shrill note of bugle call. Only a scene

of beauty and quiet activity greets the gaze. The trees

are just awakening from their long winter's sleep and

are putting on their garb of green ; the birds make merry

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 in the boughs, heedless of the ebb and flow of the human

tide beneath ; men go about their business, or stand here

and there in groups and chat pleasantly together ; bevies

of beautiful girls, with smiling faces and queenly step,

pass up and down the streets where once tumult and

riot reigned supreme; while childhood's merry peals of

laughter come in at the open window.

And then it is that we fully realize that a new generation

has appeared upon the stage of action — a generation

that is the successor to the noblest and truest of which

the South can boast in all its glorious history — one whose

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 deeds of valor and patriotism will live in song and story

for ages yet unborn. And with the ushering in of the

present generation, sectional strife and bitterness have

passed away. It is a generation (while doubting the

wisdom of the course pursued by the authorities at Washington

in their treatment of the Southern people during those half dozen dark and gloomy years immediately succeeding

the close of the war) who rejoice in a re-

united country, and would seal its devotion to the Stars

and Stripes by defending the honor of the Flag on the

battlefield ; yet, it is a generation that looks with pride

and approval upon the conduct of their forefathers in

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 their noble defense of the Stars and Bars, and a generation

that will ever treasure that conduct as the richest heritage to which it has fallen heir.