Phoebe Ann Oakley Moses was born in Darke County, Ohio in 1860 to Quakers Susan and Jacob Moses. Her family already had a somewhat turbulent past, with her father a veteran of the War of 1812 and her family having to move to Ohio from Pennsylvania due to a fire burning down the family business, a tavern.
Jacob Moses died in 1866 from pneumonia, but not before giving his wife six other children. Annie was the fifth in line and had to deal with her father's death at a young age, as well as her mother remarrying and having another child before losing that husband as well.
Due to financial circumstances the young Annie was placed with a local family for a time where she was abused both physically and mentally, reconciling with her family when her mother married a third time. Multiple marriages were not unheard of at this time, when a single mother had very little chance of survival or being able to care for her children.
The young Annie started hunting at the tender age of nine to try and put food on the table for her family, resulting in her becoming quite the expert shot. Her skills brought attention from the public and she began to compete in local shows. At the age of 16 she went to Cincinnati and defeated Frank Butler, a noted marksman who was working with a visiting sideshow. But in the end it was Butler who won, wooing the young Annie and marrying her the same year; adding her to his travelling sideshow. At this point she took on the stage name "Annie Oakley".
At that time travelling sideshows were big entertainment, giving the people a skewed view of the old west with wild displays and exaggerations of how life was in the old west not only for women but for natives and those seeking their fortunes.
The Buffalo Bill Wild West Show was just one example and Butler joined the show in 1885 with his expert shot wife. Annie was advertised as "Little Miss Sure Shot", supposedly a nickname bestowed on her by the famous Native American Sitting Bull.
Her fame became widespread thanks to her expert shooting skills and the showmanship of Buffalo Bill, allowing her to pull off such stunts as shooting the ashes off a cigar held by no other than Kaiser Wilhelm II of Germany!
Annie Oakley's skills were known around the world, giving her fame and fortune far beyond what a simple girl from Ohio could have ever expected. When she finally passed away on November 3, 1926 she was one of the most famous women of her time, stepping outside of the barriers that restricted women in society. Indeed, the famous musical "Annie Get Your Gun" is loosely based on her experiences! Even after all these years "Miss Little Sure Shot" can still motivate and encourage young girls to look beyond society's boundaries and go further.
Friday, July 13, 2007
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
TSMS Lakonia, part 2
Here at last I shall finish about the Lakonia.
...Many of the passengers who had been asleep in their cabins found themselves unable to escape the fire. Some passengers were told to go to the main dining room to await instructions, but most ignored this order, since the dining room lay directly in the path of the fire. At 11:30 p.m., the ship's chief radio officer Antonios Kalogridis sent out the first distress call: "Fire spreading up. Prepare evacuation on ship." At midnight, a second distress call was sent out: "We are leaving the ship. Please immediately give us assistance. Please help us." Kalogridis sent out the last call at 12:22 a.m., just before the wireless room caught fire: "SOS from Lakonia, last time. I cannot stay anymore in the wireless station. We are leaving the ship. Please immediate assistance. Please help." A six-man fire crew attempted to fight the blaze, but the fire spread too quickly to be contained. The pressure boilers began to explode, filling the rooms and hallways with thick, black smoke, and the suffocating passengers were forced on deck. The ship's purser gave the order to abandon ship shortly before 1:00 a.m. Dazed passengers made their way to the lifeboats, some in their pajamas and others still wearing their jewels and eveningwear. A few crew members went below decks to try to save passengers from their burning cabins. The ship's swimming pool attendant and a steward lowered themselves over the side of the ship by rope to pull trapped people from portholes. Evacuation of the ship was extremely difficult. Some lifeboats burned before they could be lowered. Two of the lifeboats were swamped, spilling their occupants into the sea; one when it was lowered only by one end, and the other when its davits broke off. Chains had rusted in many of the davits, making boats difficult or impossible to move. In the end, just over half of the lifeboats made it safely away from the Lakonia, some of them less than half full. Several people who dove overboard struck the side of the ship on the way down, killing them before they hit the water. Passengers were angered when the wireless operator left the ship in a launch with a nurse and two musicians. Kalogridis later testified that he had left to rescue people from the water. He did not return to the ship because the current pushed the launch away, he explained. Passengers also claimed that some of the crewmen took advantage of the chaos to loot staterooms. When all of the boats were away, there were still people adrift in the water and over 100 people left on board the burning ship. The Lakonia continued to burn fiercely and was rocked by violent explosions. Those who remained on board flocked to the glass-enclosed Agora Shopping Center at the stern of the ship. After several hours, the flames closed in on them, and they were forced to descend ropes and rope ladders into the ocean. The port and starboard gangways were lowered as well, and people walked down the gangways single file into the sea. At 3:30 a.m., four hours after the first distress call, the 492-foot Argentinean passenger ship Salta arrived on the scene. The Salta, under the command of Captain José Barrere, had been on its way from Genoa, Italy to Buenos Aires. The 440-foot British tanker Montcalm arrived half an hour later at 4:00 a.m. The majority of the survivors were saved by these two ships. The Salta rescued 475 people and took aboard most of Lakonia's lifeboats. In the hours that followed, the Belgian ship Charlesville, the Brazilian freighter Rio Grande, the British passenger ship Stratheden and the Panamanian freighter Mehdi all arrived to take part in the rescue. Each of the rescue vessels dispatched boats to pluck survivors from the water. Also, four United States Air Force C-54 rescue planes were sent from the Lajes Air Base in the Azores. The planes dropped flares, lifejackets, life rafts and survival kits to people in the water. Rescue efforts were hindered by the fact that the Lakonia drifted for several miles during the evacuation. People in the water were dispersed over a 2 – 3 mile area. Also, rescue ships were reluctant to get too near the Lakonia; there was a constant risk that the ship's 500 tons of fuel oil would explode. A lifeboat was dispatched from the Charlesville shortly after daybreak to rescue Captain Zarbis, who was spotted pacing the decks of the still-burning ship. Zarbis was the last person to leave the Lakonia alive. Most of the survivors were transported to Madeira, while others, including Captain Zarbis, were taken to Casablanca. A total of 128 people died in the Lakonia disaster, of which 95 were passengers and 33 were crew members. Only 53 people were killed in the actual fire. The rest died from exposure, drowning and injuries sustained while diving overboard. Crewmen from the British aircraft carrier HMS Centaur were able to board the Lakonia on December 24, once the flames had died down. Most of the bodies were recovered by the crew of the Centaur. By this time, the Lakonia was a charred, smoking hulk. Her superstructure had partially collapsed amidships, and the bridge and aft decks had caved in. There were holes blasted near the bow, and the ship was listing 10 degrees to starboard. The Norwegian tugboat Herkules attached a tow line to the Lakonia at 5:30 p.m. on December 24. The Herkules, along with the Portuguese tugboat Praia da Adraga and two other tugs, set off for the British base at Gibraltar with the Lakonia in tow. Her list grew more severe each day, and at about 2:00 p.m. on December 29, the Lakonia rolled over onto her starboard side. She sank stern-first in only three minutes. The ship went down 230 miles southwest of Lisbon, Portugal and 250 miles west of Gibraltar.
...Many of the passengers who had been asleep in their cabins found themselves unable to escape the fire. Some passengers were told to go to the main dining room to await instructions, but most ignored this order, since the dining room lay directly in the path of the fire. At 11:30 p.m., the ship's chief radio officer Antonios Kalogridis sent out the first distress call: "Fire spreading up. Prepare evacuation on ship." At midnight, a second distress call was sent out: "We are leaving the ship. Please immediately give us assistance. Please help us." Kalogridis sent out the last call at 12:22 a.m., just before the wireless room caught fire: "SOS from Lakonia, last time. I cannot stay anymore in the wireless station. We are leaving the ship. Please immediate assistance. Please help." A six-man fire crew attempted to fight the blaze, but the fire spread too quickly to be contained. The pressure boilers began to explode, filling the rooms and hallways with thick, black smoke, and the suffocating passengers were forced on deck. The ship's purser gave the order to abandon ship shortly before 1:00 a.m. Dazed passengers made their way to the lifeboats, some in their pajamas and others still wearing their jewels and eveningwear. A few crew members went below decks to try to save passengers from their burning cabins. The ship's swimming pool attendant and a steward lowered themselves over the side of the ship by rope to pull trapped people from portholes. Evacuation of the ship was extremely difficult. Some lifeboats burned before they could be lowered. Two of the lifeboats were swamped, spilling their occupants into the sea; one when it was lowered only by one end, and the other when its davits broke off. Chains had rusted in many of the davits, making boats difficult or impossible to move. In the end, just over half of the lifeboats made it safely away from the Lakonia, some of them less than half full. Several people who dove overboard struck the side of the ship on the way down, killing them before they hit the water. Passengers were angered when the wireless operator left the ship in a launch with a nurse and two musicians. Kalogridis later testified that he had left to rescue people from the water. He did not return to the ship because the current pushed the launch away, he explained. Passengers also claimed that some of the crewmen took advantage of the chaos to loot staterooms. When all of the boats were away, there were still people adrift in the water and over 100 people left on board the burning ship. The Lakonia continued to burn fiercely and was rocked by violent explosions. Those who remained on board flocked to the glass-enclosed Agora Shopping Center at the stern of the ship. After several hours, the flames closed in on them, and they were forced to descend ropes and rope ladders into the ocean. The port and starboard gangways were lowered as well, and people walked down the gangways single file into the sea. At 3:30 a.m., four hours after the first distress call, the 492-foot Argentinean passenger ship Salta arrived on the scene. The Salta, under the command of Captain José Barrere, had been on its way from Genoa, Italy to Buenos Aires. The 440-foot British tanker Montcalm arrived half an hour later at 4:00 a.m. The majority of the survivors were saved by these two ships. The Salta rescued 475 people and took aboard most of Lakonia's lifeboats. In the hours that followed, the Belgian ship Charlesville, the Brazilian freighter Rio Grande, the British passenger ship Stratheden and the Panamanian freighter Mehdi all arrived to take part in the rescue. Each of the rescue vessels dispatched boats to pluck survivors from the water. Also, four United States Air Force C-54 rescue planes were sent from the Lajes Air Base in the Azores. The planes dropped flares, lifejackets, life rafts and survival kits to people in the water. Rescue efforts were hindered by the fact that the Lakonia drifted for several miles during the evacuation. People in the water were dispersed over a 2 – 3 mile area. Also, rescue ships were reluctant to get too near the Lakonia; there was a constant risk that the ship's 500 tons of fuel oil would explode. A lifeboat was dispatched from the Charlesville shortly after daybreak to rescue Captain Zarbis, who was spotted pacing the decks of the still-burning ship. Zarbis was the last person to leave the Lakonia alive. Most of the survivors were transported to Madeira, while others, including Captain Zarbis, were taken to Casablanca. A total of 128 people died in the Lakonia disaster, of which 95 were passengers and 33 were crew members. Only 53 people were killed in the actual fire. The rest died from exposure, drowning and injuries sustained while diving overboard. Crewmen from the British aircraft carrier HMS Centaur were able to board the Lakonia on December 24, once the flames had died down. Most of the bodies were recovered by the crew of the Centaur. By this time, the Lakonia was a charred, smoking hulk. Her superstructure had partially collapsed amidships, and the bridge and aft decks had caved in. There were holes blasted near the bow, and the ship was listing 10 degrees to starboard. The Norwegian tugboat Herkules attached a tow line to the Lakonia at 5:30 p.m. on December 24. The Herkules, along with the Portuguese tugboat Praia da Adraga and two other tugs, set off for the British base at Gibraltar with the Lakonia in tow. Her list grew more severe each day, and at about 2:00 p.m. on December 29, the Lakonia rolled over onto her starboard side. She sank stern-first in only three minutes. The ship went down 230 miles southwest of Lisbon, Portugal and 250 miles west of Gibraltar.
Monday, July 02, 2007
TSMS Lakonia, part 1
As many of you know, I love all ships (well, at least all passenger liners. No war ships for me!), so here is another bit about one of my many favorites. Though it was not that long ago, I still find it absolutely fascinating, and just so you don't get totally confused, the Lakonia was previously the Johan von Oldenbarnevelt.
The Johan van Oldenbarnevelt was refitted again in 1958 at a cost of AU$800,000. The refitting was carried out by the Amsterdam Dry Dock Company and took three months to complete. Accommodation was reduced to 1,210 passengers. Three luxury suites were added, as well as a nightclub, cinema, gift shop, promenade lounge and second swimming pool. All public rooms were refinished and restored. The main mast was relocated to atop the bridge, and the decks were extended aft. Her funnels were heightened, given rounded tops and painted yellow and black. Her black hull was re-painted gray.
The ship was assigned to her new port, Southampton, England, on April 2, 1959. She offered round-the-world service, making stops in Australia, New Zealand, Bermuda and New York City. She was now marketed as a cruise ship, instead of a passenger liner.
The Johan van Oldenbarnevelt left on her last round-the-world voyage for the Netherland Line on June 30, 1962. She arrived in Sydney, Australia on February 3, 1963 and was decommissioned by the Netherland Line that day, ending a 33-year career for that shipping line. She then sailed for Genoa, Italy, and arrived on March 7, 1963.
On March 8, 1963, the Johan van Oldenbarnevelt was sold to the General Steam Navigation Company. Her decks and public rooms were re-named and the aft swimming pool was enlarged. Twelve additional cabins were built, and air conditioning was installed throughout the ship. Her hull was painted white, and her weight grew to 20,314 tons. Most importantly, the ship's name was changed to TSMS Lakonia.
The ship was operated by the Ormos Shipping Company (also known as the Greek Line) and offered service from Southampton to the Canary Islands. She departed Southampton on her first voyage as Lakonia on April 24, 1963. She proved immensely popular, and the Greek Line planned 27 cruises for 1964. From December 9 to December 13, 1963, she underwent another minor upgrade. A new pneumatic fuel injection system was installed. Cabins were redecorated, and the kitchen and pantry were completely remodeled.
The Lakonia was outfitted with a number of safety features. She carried 24 lifeboats capable of holding 1,455 people. The ship had an automatic fire alarm system and two fire stations with specialized firefighting equipment. There were lifejackets for every person on board and an extra 400 stowed on deck.
In addition to Lakonia, the Greek Line also operated the larger Arkadia and Olympia.
The Lakonia departed Southampton on December 19, 1963 for an 11-day "Christmas Cruise" of the Canary Islands. Her first scheduled stop was to be the island of Madeira. There were 646 passengers and 376 crewmen on board: a total of 1,022 people. All but 21 of the passengers were British citizens, and the crew members were mostly Greek and German. The captain of the Lakonia was 53-year-old Mathios Zarbis.
The crew had conducted a boat drill a week before, and the ship passed a safety inspection by the British Ministry of Transport 24 hours prior to sailing. The ship carried a Greek certificate of seaworthiness. Passengers participated in a boat drill on December 20.
The first three days of the cruise were uneventful. Passengers played shuffleboard and deck tennis by day and enjoyed banquets and dances by night. The cruise brochure promised "absolute freedom from worry and responsibility."
At around 11:00 p.m. on December 22, a steward noticed thick smoke seeping under the door of the ship's hairdressing salon. Upon opening the door, he found the room completely ablaze, and the fire rushed into the hallway toward the staterooms. He and another steward attempted to fight the flames with fire extinguishers, but the fire was spreading too fast to be contained. One of the men ran to notify the ship's purser, Antonio Bogetti.
Fire alarms sounded, but too softly to be heard by most passengers. "The fire alarm bell was so weak that it sounded like someone calling the waiter to ask for tea," one survivor later told reporters. An alarm went off on the bridge, pinpointing the fire’s location. The ship was 180 miles north of Madeira and 550 miles northwest of Casablanca, Morocco.
At the time the blaze was discovered, most of the passengers were in the ship's ballroom, called the Lakonia Room, dancing at the "Tropical Tramps' Ball." Passengers began to notice the smell of smoke, but most dismissed it as strong cigar smoke. Captain Zarbis, who had been notified of the fire, attempted to make an announcement on the ship's intercom system, but it had been disabled by the blaze. As smoke began to fill the ballroom at about 11:30, the band stopped playing and cruise director George Herbert ushered the frightened passengers to the boat deck. The upper deck was ablaze within 10 minutes.
More soon...
The Johan van Oldenbarnevelt was refitted again in 1958 at a cost of AU$800,000. The refitting was carried out by the Amsterdam Dry Dock Company and took three months to complete. Accommodation was reduced to 1,210 passengers. Three luxury suites were added, as well as a nightclub, cinema, gift shop, promenade lounge and second swimming pool. All public rooms were refinished and restored. The main mast was relocated to atop the bridge, and the decks were extended aft. Her funnels were heightened, given rounded tops and painted yellow and black. Her black hull was re-painted gray.
The ship was assigned to her new port, Southampton, England, on April 2, 1959. She offered round-the-world service, making stops in Australia, New Zealand, Bermuda and New York City. She was now marketed as a cruise ship, instead of a passenger liner.
The Johan van Oldenbarnevelt left on her last round-the-world voyage for the Netherland Line on June 30, 1962. She arrived in Sydney, Australia on February 3, 1963 and was decommissioned by the Netherland Line that day, ending a 33-year career for that shipping line. She then sailed for Genoa, Italy, and arrived on March 7, 1963.
On March 8, 1963, the Johan van Oldenbarnevelt was sold to the General Steam Navigation Company. Her decks and public rooms were re-named and the aft swimming pool was enlarged. Twelve additional cabins were built, and air conditioning was installed throughout the ship. Her hull was painted white, and her weight grew to 20,314 tons. Most importantly, the ship's name was changed to TSMS Lakonia.
The ship was operated by the Ormos Shipping Company (also known as the Greek Line) and offered service from Southampton to the Canary Islands. She departed Southampton on her first voyage as Lakonia on April 24, 1963. She proved immensely popular, and the Greek Line planned 27 cruises for 1964. From December 9 to December 13, 1963, she underwent another minor upgrade. A new pneumatic fuel injection system was installed. Cabins were redecorated, and the kitchen and pantry were completely remodeled.
The Lakonia was outfitted with a number of safety features. She carried 24 lifeboats capable of holding 1,455 people. The ship had an automatic fire alarm system and two fire stations with specialized firefighting equipment. There were lifejackets for every person on board and an extra 400 stowed on deck.
In addition to Lakonia, the Greek Line also operated the larger Arkadia and Olympia.
The Lakonia departed Southampton on December 19, 1963 for an 11-day "Christmas Cruise" of the Canary Islands. Her first scheduled stop was to be the island of Madeira. There were 646 passengers and 376 crewmen on board: a total of 1,022 people. All but 21 of the passengers were British citizens, and the crew members were mostly Greek and German. The captain of the Lakonia was 53-year-old Mathios Zarbis.
The crew had conducted a boat drill a week before, and the ship passed a safety inspection by the British Ministry of Transport 24 hours prior to sailing. The ship carried a Greek certificate of seaworthiness. Passengers participated in a boat drill on December 20.
The first three days of the cruise were uneventful. Passengers played shuffleboard and deck tennis by day and enjoyed banquets and dances by night. The cruise brochure promised "absolute freedom from worry and responsibility."
At around 11:00 p.m. on December 22, a steward noticed thick smoke seeping under the door of the ship's hairdressing salon. Upon opening the door, he found the room completely ablaze, and the fire rushed into the hallway toward the staterooms. He and another steward attempted to fight the flames with fire extinguishers, but the fire was spreading too fast to be contained. One of the men ran to notify the ship's purser, Antonio Bogetti.
Fire alarms sounded, but too softly to be heard by most passengers. "The fire alarm bell was so weak that it sounded like someone calling the waiter to ask for tea," one survivor later told reporters. An alarm went off on the bridge, pinpointing the fire’s location. The ship was 180 miles north of Madeira and 550 miles northwest of Casablanca, Morocco.
At the time the blaze was discovered, most of the passengers were in the ship's ballroom, called the Lakonia Room, dancing at the "Tropical Tramps' Ball." Passengers began to notice the smell of smoke, but most dismissed it as strong cigar smoke. Captain Zarbis, who had been notified of the fire, attempted to make an announcement on the ship's intercom system, but it had been disabled by the blaze. As smoke began to fill the ballroom at about 11:30, the band stopped playing and cruise director George Herbert ushered the frightened passengers to the boat deck. The upper deck was ablaze within 10 minutes.
More soon...
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Belle Boyd, part 5
I truly wonder how many parts it will take to finnish this thing on Belle Boyd. It is long.
...The spy rode out with the captain, and Keily talked freely. To him, as she said wryly, she was "indebted for some very remarkable effusions, some withered flowers, and last, not least, for a great deal of very important information. . . ." Belle gathered that a major Federal drive would soon be mounted, and her aunt’s hotel was a rare observation point. One night in mid May she learned that a war council was about to be held in the hotel parlor. Directly above was a bedroom with a closet, and, as Belle had once noticed, the closet floor had a small knothole. Perhaps the energetic spy enlarged it a bit for her purposes. When the men gathered, she lay down in the closet and put her ear to the opening. For hours she stayed there, motionless, cramped, catching every murmur as the men, sitting over cigars and maps, argued strategy. Belles mind filled with names, figures, placement of scattered armies. There was much she did not understand, so she memorized most of it. The meeting ended about one in the morning, and, after waiting for the halls to clear, Belle scurried to her cottage and wrote out a cipher message. She had to leave with it at once. To wake a servant was too great a risk, so she saddled her horse and led him softly away. A few minutes later she was galloping toward the mountains. In her pocket she had a pass left her by a paroled Confederate. A sentry stopped her, and as she thrust it into his hands she talked nervously of sickness in the family, her need for haste. He let her by. She had to rein in and chatter out her story to another guard, and he nodded. With that she sped across fields, along marshes, past cabins. Fifteen miles away was a house where she had been told she could send an emergency message to Colonel Ashby, Jacksons head spy. At last, breathless, she jumped from her horse and hammered at the door of the dark building. A suspicious voice demanded who she was. After she gave her name, the friend opened the door and gaped at her: "My dear, where'd you come from?" Belle ignored his questions as male irrelevance, and asked her own. Where was Ashby? How soon could she reach him? Told that his party was quartered up the road, she started to turn, when another door opened, and Ashby himself frowned at her. "Good God! Miss Belle, is that you?" The girl told all she knew and left hurriedly, for she had to get back home before dawn. She was nearly there when a drowsy sentry, waking just as she rode by fired after her. But she was lying exhausted in her own bed by the time General Shieldss forces rolled out of Martinsburg. The next ten days or so would see vigorous action, she felt sure. Rumors arrived soon of Federal movements at Winchester. Feeling the need to be "on the go" once more, Belle asked for a pass. The provost marshal was suspicious, and put her off with one excuse after another. He sometimes left on short absences, however, and she waited until he rode out of town. Then Belle applied prettily to a young cavalry lieutenant in the provosts office. She, a girl cousin, and her maid were anxious to make the trip, and surely he wouldn't object. The lieutenant hesitated, and Belle moved closer. . . . Well, he had to go thereabouts himself, Miss Belle, and hed just ride along. Though she had not expected quite that arrangement, she took full advantage of it. For the young Union officer the trip was a gay adventure. He escorted the girls through the lines and they stayed briefly at Winchester. There, unexpectedly or perhaps not so unexpectedly, a new opportunity opened to the alert Miss Boyd. A "gentleman of high social standing" found her and murmured an anxious message: He had several papers that should go to General Jackson or one of his subordinates. He shoved them into Belles hands. They all dealt with the impending clash between Confederate and Northern forces and were of varying importance. The first packet she examined was vital, and Belle slipped it to her maid, reasoning that the Federals would probably not search a Negro. A paper of less import the girl dropped casually in a small basket; another of the same sort she gave the bemused lieutenant to hold. A final document, of great significance, she held in her own hand. The blithe party started back. They did not get far, for they had just reached Winchesters outskirts when a pair of detectives flagged them down. They were all under arrest. At headquarters the colonel in charge asked a direct question: was Miss Boyd carrying any disloyal messages? The lieutenant was flustered. Belle knew that the less important packet in her basket would quickly be found, so she promptly passed it to the colonel. In her hand she still held the most vital of the papers. "What’s that?" the colonel demanded. Belle employed elementary psychology. "This scrap? Nothing. You can have it." She moved forward as if to give the note to him; had he reached out, she said later, she would have swallowed it. Instead, the colonel turned his attention to the lieutenant. From his pocket that luckless man fished Belles paper, and caught the brunt of the older mans rage. What did this mean--carrying messages for the secesh! Didn't the unwitting fool know. . .? To the girls regret, the lieutenant stayed under arrest. Belle herself, according to a newspaper of a few days later, "with her usual adroitness and assumed innocence, got clear of the charges of treachery." She had not only kept the essential note in her hand, but also the valuable one in her maids possession!
More shall come...
Someday...
...The spy rode out with the captain, and Keily talked freely. To him, as she said wryly, she was "indebted for some very remarkable effusions, some withered flowers, and last, not least, for a great deal of very important information. . . ." Belle gathered that a major Federal drive would soon be mounted, and her aunt’s hotel was a rare observation point. One night in mid May she learned that a war council was about to be held in the hotel parlor. Directly above was a bedroom with a closet, and, as Belle had once noticed, the closet floor had a small knothole. Perhaps the energetic spy enlarged it a bit for her purposes. When the men gathered, she lay down in the closet and put her ear to the opening. For hours she stayed there, motionless, cramped, catching every murmur as the men, sitting over cigars and maps, argued strategy. Belles mind filled with names, figures, placement of scattered armies. There was much she did not understand, so she memorized most of it. The meeting ended about one in the morning, and, after waiting for the halls to clear, Belle scurried to her cottage and wrote out a cipher message. She had to leave with it at once. To wake a servant was too great a risk, so she saddled her horse and led him softly away. A few minutes later she was galloping toward the mountains. In her pocket she had a pass left her by a paroled Confederate. A sentry stopped her, and as she thrust it into his hands she talked nervously of sickness in the family, her need for haste. He let her by. She had to rein in and chatter out her story to another guard, and he nodded. With that she sped across fields, along marshes, past cabins. Fifteen miles away was a house where she had been told she could send an emergency message to Colonel Ashby, Jacksons head spy. At last, breathless, she jumped from her horse and hammered at the door of the dark building. A suspicious voice demanded who she was. After she gave her name, the friend opened the door and gaped at her: "My dear, where'd you come from?" Belle ignored his questions as male irrelevance, and asked her own. Where was Ashby? How soon could she reach him? Told that his party was quartered up the road, she started to turn, when another door opened, and Ashby himself frowned at her. "Good God! Miss Belle, is that you?" The girl told all she knew and left hurriedly, for she had to get back home before dawn. She was nearly there when a drowsy sentry, waking just as she rode by fired after her. But she was lying exhausted in her own bed by the time General Shieldss forces rolled out of Martinsburg. The next ten days or so would see vigorous action, she felt sure. Rumors arrived soon of Federal movements at Winchester. Feeling the need to be "on the go" once more, Belle asked for a pass. The provost marshal was suspicious, and put her off with one excuse after another. He sometimes left on short absences, however, and she waited until he rode out of town. Then Belle applied prettily to a young cavalry lieutenant in the provosts office. She, a girl cousin, and her maid were anxious to make the trip, and surely he wouldn't object. The lieutenant hesitated, and Belle moved closer. . . . Well, he had to go thereabouts himself, Miss Belle, and hed just ride along. Though she had not expected quite that arrangement, she took full advantage of it. For the young Union officer the trip was a gay adventure. He escorted the girls through the lines and they stayed briefly at Winchester. There, unexpectedly or perhaps not so unexpectedly, a new opportunity opened to the alert Miss Boyd. A "gentleman of high social standing" found her and murmured an anxious message: He had several papers that should go to General Jackson or one of his subordinates. He shoved them into Belles hands. They all dealt with the impending clash between Confederate and Northern forces and were of varying importance. The first packet she examined was vital, and Belle slipped it to her maid, reasoning that the Federals would probably not search a Negro. A paper of less import the girl dropped casually in a small basket; another of the same sort she gave the bemused lieutenant to hold. A final document, of great significance, she held in her own hand. The blithe party started back. They did not get far, for they had just reached Winchesters outskirts when a pair of detectives flagged them down. They were all under arrest. At headquarters the colonel in charge asked a direct question: was Miss Boyd carrying any disloyal messages? The lieutenant was flustered. Belle knew that the less important packet in her basket would quickly be found, so she promptly passed it to the colonel. In her hand she still held the most vital of the papers. "What’s that?" the colonel demanded. Belle employed elementary psychology. "This scrap? Nothing. You can have it." She moved forward as if to give the note to him; had he reached out, she said later, she would have swallowed it. Instead, the colonel turned his attention to the lieutenant. From his pocket that luckless man fished Belles paper, and caught the brunt of the older mans rage. What did this mean--carrying messages for the secesh! Didn't the unwitting fool know. . .? To the girls regret, the lieutenant stayed under arrest. Belle herself, according to a newspaper of a few days later, "with her usual adroitness and assumed innocence, got clear of the charges of treachery." She had not only kept the essential note in her hand, but also the valuable one in her maids possession!
More shall come...
Someday...
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Belle Boyd, part 4
I deeply apologize for being lazy. I have been recovering from an illness, and once I was better, I was too busy catching up on all the other things I had missed while sick. But anyway, here is another part about Belle Boyd.
...Belle explains, however, that she had begun to experiment in espionage. Whatever she learned, she "regularly and carefully committed to paper" and sent to her beloved Stonewall Jackson or to Jeb Stuart. Soon her first mistake tripped her. A true novice, she had no cipher and made no effort to disguise her handwriting. One of her notes reached Union headquarters, and the colonel in command summoned her. Reading the articles of war, he asked sternly if Miss Belle knew she could be sentenced to death? Belle declined to be frightened. She made a full curtsy, and her eyes swept over the officers in the room. "Thank you, gentlemen of the jury," she murmured in irony, and swirled out. But she had to be more careful, and for a time she used as helper an old Negro, who carried messages in a big watch from which the insides had been removed. A certain Sophie B. also assisted her. Lacking Belles superlative horsemanship, Sophie once had to walk seven miles each way to Jacksons camp. In her memoirs of these salad days of her spying, Belle gives only a few details, but reveals something of her inspiration. One day she heard of the exploit of Rose Greenhows famous helper, Betty Duvall, with her market girls disguise and the dispatch hidden in her black locks. Spy inspired spy, and Belle sought out Colonel Turner Ashby, Jacksons sharp-faced cavalry leader, head of military scouts in the Shenandoah Valley. Ashby was no mean spy himself when he put on civilian clothes and rode around Union camps in the role of a dreary veterinarian. For days Ashby would treat ailing horses, then jog back to his own lines with all he needed to know about the enemy. From him Belle received several assignments as courier for the Confederate forces. She learned the use of a cipher, and in the shifting battle areas she frequently carried messages on brief runs, pounding through back country and over short cuts on her horse. Her tomboy days were paying off. Restless as ever, she worked in one town after another, until she heard in late March of 1862 that fighting was on again at Martinsburg. Her place was there, she felt, but as she passed through nearby Winchester an enemy tipped off Union authorities. At the railroad station, officers begged Belles pardon--and arrested her. She would have to go all the way to Baltimore with them. The experience might have been terrifying to the girl, but, while friends watched glumly, Belle adjusted a bright new beribboned hat and assured them that nothing was going to happen to her! They’d see. They did. Her prison in Baltimore was a comfortable hotel, where she held court and chuckled at, then with her captors. A week passed pleasantly as officials puzzled over what to do about her. General Dix, who had presided at the Greenhow hearing, found no specific evidence, and let her leave with a fatherly warning. With another deep bow and a raised eyebrow, the junior spy swished out. After this adventure she rejoined her family at Front Royal, forty miles south of Martinsburg, where Belle’s aunt and uncle had a small hotel. To her surprise, Union forces had taken over the building and the remaining members of her family had moved to a cramped cottage. Such restriction made Belle’s Confederate heart sink. She knew precisely where she wanted to be--in Richmond, the heart of everything that interested her. As Belle understood life, the way to get a thing was to ask for it, especially if the one to be asked were a man. So she sought out the commander, General James Shields. The good-humored Irishman beamed at the bold, pretty girl. Ah, he clicked his tongue, if he gave Miss Belle the pass she wished, she would have to go through General Jacksons lines. Shields shook his head in mock regret; those Confederates had been so demoralized that he dared not trust Miss Belle to their mercies. Then with a twinkle he added that in a few days Jackson s men would all be wiped out, and she could go through! So assured was the Union officer, Belle said in her memoirs, that he forgot "a woman can sometimes listen and remember." Sensing a chance for a real exploit, she changed her plans in a second. She would stay right here. When she twinkled back at Shields, he grew expansive and introduced her to his staff. A younger, handsomer Irishman seemed definitely worthy of cultivation and quickly Belle let Captain Keily think he was cultivating her.
Someday, more will come...
...Belle explains, however, that she had begun to experiment in espionage. Whatever she learned, she "regularly and carefully committed to paper" and sent to her beloved Stonewall Jackson or to Jeb Stuart. Soon her first mistake tripped her. A true novice, she had no cipher and made no effort to disguise her handwriting. One of her notes reached Union headquarters, and the colonel in command summoned her. Reading the articles of war, he asked sternly if Miss Belle knew she could be sentenced to death? Belle declined to be frightened. She made a full curtsy, and her eyes swept over the officers in the room. "Thank you, gentlemen of the jury," she murmured in irony, and swirled out. But she had to be more careful, and for a time she used as helper an old Negro, who carried messages in a big watch from which the insides had been removed. A certain Sophie B. also assisted her. Lacking Belles superlative horsemanship, Sophie once had to walk seven miles each way to Jacksons camp. In her memoirs of these salad days of her spying, Belle gives only a few details, but reveals something of her inspiration. One day she heard of the exploit of Rose Greenhows famous helper, Betty Duvall, with her market girls disguise and the dispatch hidden in her black locks. Spy inspired spy, and Belle sought out Colonel Turner Ashby, Jacksons sharp-faced cavalry leader, head of military scouts in the Shenandoah Valley. Ashby was no mean spy himself when he put on civilian clothes and rode around Union camps in the role of a dreary veterinarian. For days Ashby would treat ailing horses, then jog back to his own lines with all he needed to know about the enemy. From him Belle received several assignments as courier for the Confederate forces. She learned the use of a cipher, and in the shifting battle areas she frequently carried messages on brief runs, pounding through back country and over short cuts on her horse. Her tomboy days were paying off. Restless as ever, she worked in one town after another, until she heard in late March of 1862 that fighting was on again at Martinsburg. Her place was there, she felt, but as she passed through nearby Winchester an enemy tipped off Union authorities. At the railroad station, officers begged Belles pardon--and arrested her. She would have to go all the way to Baltimore with them. The experience might have been terrifying to the girl, but, while friends watched glumly, Belle adjusted a bright new beribboned hat and assured them that nothing was going to happen to her! They’d see. They did. Her prison in Baltimore was a comfortable hotel, where she held court and chuckled at, then with her captors. A week passed pleasantly as officials puzzled over what to do about her. General Dix, who had presided at the Greenhow hearing, found no specific evidence, and let her leave with a fatherly warning. With another deep bow and a raised eyebrow, the junior spy swished out. After this adventure she rejoined her family at Front Royal, forty miles south of Martinsburg, where Belle’s aunt and uncle had a small hotel. To her surprise, Union forces had taken over the building and the remaining members of her family had moved to a cramped cottage. Such restriction made Belle’s Confederate heart sink. She knew precisely where she wanted to be--in Richmond, the heart of everything that interested her. As Belle understood life, the way to get a thing was to ask for it, especially if the one to be asked were a man. So she sought out the commander, General James Shields. The good-humored Irishman beamed at the bold, pretty girl. Ah, he clicked his tongue, if he gave Miss Belle the pass she wished, she would have to go through General Jacksons lines. Shields shook his head in mock regret; those Confederates had been so demoralized that he dared not trust Miss Belle to their mercies. Then with a twinkle he added that in a few days Jackson s men would all be wiped out, and she could go through! So assured was the Union officer, Belle said in her memoirs, that he forgot "a woman can sometimes listen and remember." Sensing a chance for a real exploit, she changed her plans in a second. She would stay right here. When she twinkled back at Shields, he grew expansive and introduced her to his staff. A younger, handsomer Irishman seemed definitely worthy of cultivation and quickly Belle let Captain Keily think he was cultivating her.
Someday, more will come...
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Two lady outlaws
Sorry y'all. I just got rather lazy and decided to skip Belle Boyd for today. But you should be happy I even posted something, I am still sick, and have been staying away from the computer ever since I came down with this dreaded disease while working on here. Anyhow, here is a bit about:
Cattle Annie and Little Britches
Annie McDougal and Jennie Metcalf were just teenagers, only sixteen and seventeen in 1874, when they met members of the Doolin gang. The Doolin Gang, often associated with the Daltons, robbed banks, stages, and trains. They were a bloodthirsty gang who often murdered innocent bystanders.
The two teenage girls appeared to have been charmed by the outlaws and the lives they led. While the gang had a hideout in Indian territory in Oklahoma, the girls began to serve as message carriers and lookouts for the gang. They would warn Doolin and the gang if anyone was approaching their hideout by firing a rifle shot into the air. The girls went by the nicknames of Cattle Annie and Little Britches.
Jennie was called Little Britches because of her habit of wearing pants far too big for her slender frame. She was born Jennie Stevens in Missouri in 1879. She had a sister and possibly more siblings. Her family was poor, but honest. In around 1887 the family moved to Seneca on the outer edges of Indian Territory, where Jennie's outlaw activities began.
When she was barely fifteen, Jennie donned men's clothes and went out to seek adventure. She got lost and when she returned home received a thrashing from her father. By the time she was sixteen, she had two failed marriages behind her. She met Annie at a dance, and the two girls formed a close friendship. They later met up with members of the Doolin gang and started working for them.
Annie was born in Kansas and had several siblings. By differing accounts, her father was either a lawyer turned preacher or poor and uneducated. Whatever he was, he was not an outlaw. Annie did domestic work to help out. The family moved to the Cherokee Nation, which is where she began her venture into crime.
Annie attended the dance where she met Jennie with a boyfriend and there she became introduced to and fell madly in love with George "Red Buck" Waightman, a member of the Doolin gang. Cattle Annie got her name when she became suspected of rustling the neighbor's cattle.
Both girls were poor, uneducated, and no doubt felt flattered by the attention of the outlaws and gladly served as lookouts for them. The two girl bandits were crack shots and managed to evade the law at every turn. Eventually, though, their misdeeds caught up with them and the girls were arrested for rustling cattle and bootlegging whiskey to the Indians.
The two young girl bandits were caught in Pawnee, Oklahoma. Cattle Annie was caught right away, but Little Britches gave them a run for their money. The girls, convicted and sentenced to five yers, were sent to prison in Boston. The girls, who had never been out of Oklahoma, found the trip East exciting. Once there, they became celebrities, known as the Oklahoma Girl Bandits. Both were released from prison several years early for good behavior, and retired from their lives of crime. Annie settled down and married. Jennie moved to New York and died of tuberculosis shortly after.
Because of the brief duration of their crimes and because they reformed shortly after, their exploits have often been passed over in favor of more colorful outlaws. But for the two short years this pair of tough girls rode the outlaw trail, they gave lawmen a world of trouble.
Cattle Annie and Little Britches
Annie McDougal and Jennie Metcalf were just teenagers, only sixteen and seventeen in 1874, when they met members of the Doolin gang. The Doolin Gang, often associated with the Daltons, robbed banks, stages, and trains. They were a bloodthirsty gang who often murdered innocent bystanders.
The two teenage girls appeared to have been charmed by the outlaws and the lives they led. While the gang had a hideout in Indian territory in Oklahoma, the girls began to serve as message carriers and lookouts for the gang. They would warn Doolin and the gang if anyone was approaching their hideout by firing a rifle shot into the air. The girls went by the nicknames of Cattle Annie and Little Britches.
Jennie was called Little Britches because of her habit of wearing pants far too big for her slender frame. She was born Jennie Stevens in Missouri in 1879. She had a sister and possibly more siblings. Her family was poor, but honest. In around 1887 the family moved to Seneca on the outer edges of Indian Territory, where Jennie's outlaw activities began.
When she was barely fifteen, Jennie donned men's clothes and went out to seek adventure. She got lost and when she returned home received a thrashing from her father. By the time she was sixteen, she had two failed marriages behind her. She met Annie at a dance, and the two girls formed a close friendship. They later met up with members of the Doolin gang and started working for them.
Annie was born in Kansas and had several siblings. By differing accounts, her father was either a lawyer turned preacher or poor and uneducated. Whatever he was, he was not an outlaw. Annie did domestic work to help out. The family moved to the Cherokee Nation, which is where she began her venture into crime.
Annie attended the dance where she met Jennie with a boyfriend and there she became introduced to and fell madly in love with George "Red Buck" Waightman, a member of the Doolin gang. Cattle Annie got her name when she became suspected of rustling the neighbor's cattle.
Both girls were poor, uneducated, and no doubt felt flattered by the attention of the outlaws and gladly served as lookouts for them. The two girl bandits were crack shots and managed to evade the law at every turn. Eventually, though, their misdeeds caught up with them and the girls were arrested for rustling cattle and bootlegging whiskey to the Indians.
The two young girl bandits were caught in Pawnee, Oklahoma. Cattle Annie was caught right away, but Little Britches gave them a run for their money. The girls, convicted and sentenced to five yers, were sent to prison in Boston. The girls, who had never been out of Oklahoma, found the trip East exciting. Once there, they became celebrities, known as the Oklahoma Girl Bandits. Both were released from prison several years early for good behavior, and retired from their lives of crime. Annie settled down and married. Jennie moved to New York and died of tuberculosis shortly after.
Because of the brief duration of their crimes and because they reformed shortly after, their exploits have often been passed over in favor of more colorful outlaws. But for the two short years this pair of tough girls rode the outlaw trail, they gave lawmen a world of trouble.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)