tmh10
Major
- Joined
- Mar 2, 2012
- Location
- Pipestem,WV
Anybody have an idea of who this story was based on?
1873
A Major General In The Gutter
The Kansas City Times vouched for the truth of the following:
Today there is a man going about the streets of this city, ragged, dirty and penniless, surviving on free lunches and the charities of gamblers, and has not slept in a bed in months, who, during the war, was one of the most dashing cavalry officers in the Union army, and was promoted from the rank of first lieutenant to a full brigadier general and brevet major general for brilliant exploits on the field of battle, and who for a long time had a large and important command. He has been here for two or three months under an assumed name, being ashamed to dim the brilliancy of his record in the service of his country by an exhibition of his degradation under his former honored name. He is generally very reticent, having little to do with anyone or talking little, save when "engineering" for a drink, at which he is remarkably successful. Night before last, while lying helplessly drunk in the rear part of a Third street saloon, some men thought to play a joke on him by stealing his shirt, and proceeded to strip him. Underneath his shirt, and suspended by a string around his neck, was a small canvass bag, which the men opened and found it to contain his commission as brevet major general, two congratulatory letters, one from Grant and one from President Lincoln, a photograph of a little girl, and a lock of hair - a "chestnut shadow" that doubtless one day crept over the brow of a wee loved one. When these things were discovered even the half-drunken men who found them felt a respect for the man's former greatness, and pity for his fallen condition, and quietly returned the bag and its contents to where they found them, and replaced the sleeper's clothes upon him. Yesterday a News reporter tried to interview the man and endeavor to learn something of his life for the past few years, but he declined to communicate anything. He cried like a child when told how his right name and former position were ascertained, and with tears trickling down his cheeks, said: "For God's sake, sir, don't publish my degradation or my name at least, if you are determined to say something about it. It is enough that I know myself how low I have become. Will you promise that much? It will do no good, but will do my friends a great deal of harm, as, fortunately, they think I died in South America, where I went at the close of the war." Intemperance and the gaming tables, he said, had wrought his ruin.
http://www.valstar.net/~jcraig/aftermth.htm
1873
A Major General In The Gutter
The Kansas City Times vouched for the truth of the following:
Today there is a man going about the streets of this city, ragged, dirty and penniless, surviving on free lunches and the charities of gamblers, and has not slept in a bed in months, who, during the war, was one of the most dashing cavalry officers in the Union army, and was promoted from the rank of first lieutenant to a full brigadier general and brevet major general for brilliant exploits on the field of battle, and who for a long time had a large and important command. He has been here for two or three months under an assumed name, being ashamed to dim the brilliancy of his record in the service of his country by an exhibition of his degradation under his former honored name. He is generally very reticent, having little to do with anyone or talking little, save when "engineering" for a drink, at which he is remarkably successful. Night before last, while lying helplessly drunk in the rear part of a Third street saloon, some men thought to play a joke on him by stealing his shirt, and proceeded to strip him. Underneath his shirt, and suspended by a string around his neck, was a small canvass bag, which the men opened and found it to contain his commission as brevet major general, two congratulatory letters, one from Grant and one from President Lincoln, a photograph of a little girl, and a lock of hair - a "chestnut shadow" that doubtless one day crept over the brow of a wee loved one. When these things were discovered even the half-drunken men who found them felt a respect for the man's former greatness, and pity for his fallen condition, and quietly returned the bag and its contents to where they found them, and replaced the sleeper's clothes upon him. Yesterday a News reporter tried to interview the man and endeavor to learn something of his life for the past few years, but he declined to communicate anything. He cried like a child when told how his right name and former position were ascertained, and with tears trickling down his cheeks, said: "For God's sake, sir, don't publish my degradation or my name at least, if you are determined to say something about it. It is enough that I know myself how low I have become. Will you promise that much? It will do no good, but will do my friends a great deal of harm, as, fortunately, they think I died in South America, where I went at the close of the war." Intemperance and the gaming tables, he said, had wrought his ruin.
http://www.valstar.net/~jcraig/aftermth.htm
Bringing the