COLLECTION

While Civil War veteran Stanley E. Lathrop was born in New York and spent much of his life engaged in ministerial work across Wisconsin and the south, many of his 84 years were spent in the Madison area where he was well known as a Civil War historian, Grand Army of the Republic chaplain, and State Capitol tour guide. Lathrop’s family moved to the central Wisconsin town of New London during his childhood, but he was living in Westfield in Marquette County and attending Beloit College at the time he enlisted in Company M, 1st Wisconsin Cavalry Regiment at the age of 18 in December 1861.

Less than a year later, while camped at L’Anguille Ferry, Arkansas, Corporal Lathrop found himself in a precarious position in the early morning hours of August 3, 1862. His regiment was transporting a supply train across the northern part of the state when Lathrop, having awoken early to feed his horse, realized they were being ambushed by Confederate troops. Caught off guard and largely defenseless, he and 56 other soldiers of the 1st Wisconsin Cavalry were forced to surrender.

The group of prisoners were immediately led on a two-day march to the prison camp in Little Rock, but learned upon arrival the camp was already at capacity. Their captors then made the hasty decision to instead put Lathrop, along with several other men, in reinforced rooms in the warden’s house.

The spaces were dingy and airless with barely enough room for everyone to sit. While the cramped conditions and poorquality food were difficult to bear, the prisoners learned they would soon be paroled which motivated them to maintain their physical stamina ahead of their return journey. In October, Lathrop boarded a steamer in St. Louis for old Fort Crawford in Prairie du Chien, then traveled by train to Madison. From there, Lathrop walked the remaining 60 miles home to Westfield where he spent the next several months recovering. Although he was discharged due to disability in January 1863, he reenlisted that December and continued to serve for the duration of the war, which included participation in the Atlanta campaign and the capture of Confederate president Jefferson Davis in May 1865. Before mustering out, he was promoted to company commissary sergeant.

Afterward, Lathrop completed his degree at Beloit then attended the Chicago Theological Seminary, becoming a reverend in the Congregational church in 1870. In the early 1880s, Reverend Lathrop returned to the south as part of the American Missionary Association, providing both ministerial and educational guidance to Black youth in Macon, Georgia, followed by missionary work in Tennessee and Texas. While in Tennessee, Lathrop attended the annual meeting of the Society of the Army of the Cumberland held in Chattanooga in September 1889. There, he carried the canteen shown here, one of its painted scenes depicting two soldiers enacting the “we drank from the same canteen” motto of the GAR.

Other pieces in Lathrop’s collection include a twisted wood cane bearing his name and an 1850s Confederate militiastyle sword he found after an April 1865 skirmish outside Tuskegee, Alabama at what would later become the Booker T. Washington farm. After the war, Chief Quartermaster Abram Lawrence also gave Lathrop a piece of wool bunting cut from a Confederate flag captured at the capitol in Richmond on April 3, 1865, which is sewn to a Confederate banknote taken six days later during General Robert E. Lee’s surrender at Appomattox Court House, its history recorded on the back.

In addition to staying busy in his post-retirement years as an author, poet, chaplain, and historian, Lathrop also played a role in reestablishing the G.A.R. Memorial Hall at the new Wisconsin State Capitol when it opened in 1918. He was particularly instrumental in organizing and researching the battle flag collection for the museum. Described in his obituary as “one of the leaders of the rapidly dwindling band of Madison veterans of the Civil War,” Lathrop managed to remain active in Civil War veteran events into his 80s. Stanley E. Lathrop passed away in Madison following a brief illness on December 26, 1927 at the age of 84 and is buried at Forest Hill Cemetery.

Certain historic events are seared into our collective memory and reside within our individual being. Most of us can remember exactly where we were and what we were doing when the World Trade Center was attacked. We all knew we were living though an historic event, but how do we make sense of our personal experience in the context of the national collective memory? Enter the historian it’s what we do.

For the average person living day-today, most don’t see their actions or experiences as “historical” until significant time has passed, and they have begun to consider how their generation will be remembered and what they witnessed. We may remember the feeling of a nation united after the 9/11 attacks. We may remember collecting socks and underwear to send to New York City’s first responders or singing “God Bless America” with fellow bar patrons to express our collective grief. You may have joined the military because you just had to do something. During these times, people simply live and cope in the moment. As historians we have the benefit of hindsight to interpret significance. We have access to sources, perspectives, and interpretations that provide a contextual understanding that those who lived through the events didn’t have at the time.

A person cannot simply read news accounts of an event to understand its historical significance. Media sources of the day can tell us how the public perceived events as they unfolded and to what level of importance the events were given in society at that time. However, these accounts lack the context of personal reflections on the event.

For example, with the 160th anniversary of the battle this July, let’s look at Gettysburg. From a report on July 11, 1863 in the Wisconsin State Register: Gettysburg “was a complete victory… splendidly fought by the army, which redeemed itself… all did their duty.” Looking just at the newspapers' accounts, one could get the impression that all were, “in excellent spirits.” However, historians today understand from personal accounts that despite victory, the battle was one of the most desperately fought, brutal struggles up to that point in the war, and that many individuals and families were forever changed because of it.

Personal accounts provide unique insights that help us understand how those that participated in the event felt in the immediate aftermath. From a public historian’s perspective, it’s those accounts that are most valuable. This information helps us empathize with individuals who were there, and we learn directly from their experiences, even though we have never met in person.

From an even broader perspective of a national historical narrative, it’s the events that follow the momentous events that inform how individuals see where their own personal stories fit into “history.” These moments of reflection generally occur around anniversaries as time marches on, and it’s the legacy of the event witnesses’ that shapes how the event is remembered in history.

As decades pass after an event, national memory tends to revolve around significant anniversary dates – usually those that end in 0s or 5s. By the time of 50th anniversaries, there is usually even more significant public attention paid to those events with particular interest in what they mean to those that experienced it and consideration for how those events play into our national history. In many ways 50th anniversaries are the last big push to document stories before those who remember are gone.

For example, look at the World War II generation: in the early 1990s, there was a dramatic increase in national effort to document that generation’s stories with particular attention paid to the 1994 anniversary of the D-Day Normandy landings. At the time of those fiftieth anniversaries, most of the oldest veterans were in their 90s while the youngest ones were roughly 70 years old. It is usually in that period that the limitations of our humanity are clearer than ever with fewer and fewer comrades able to gather at reunions and ceremonies. That’s usually what sparks this reflection on legacy and meaning in the historical narrative that will outlast all of us. It’s a reality that every generation has come to terms with, and the Civil War generation was no different.

From 1911 through 1915, the nation commemorated the 50th anniversary of the Civil War. In preparation for that, on the heels of creating the GAR Memorial Hall (the predecessor of the Wisconsin Veterans Museum) in 1901, the Wisconsin State Legislature created a commission in 1905 to “make some provision for recording [those stories] while many of the actors therein are living.” For Wisconsin, the state’s main commemorative focus was the 1912 dedication of the Memorial Arch at Camp Randall and the publication of those recorded histories that the commission compiled. The following year, at the national level, the anniversary of the Battle of Gettysburg was selected as the focal point for honoring the veterans of fifty years before.

For the first time significant national and state resources were committed to a Great Peace Jubilee (also known as the “Grand Reunion”) on the anniversary days of the battle. It was the first national joint reunion that brought together Union and Confederate veterans. Many speculated that it was probably the single largest gathering of Civil War veterans in one place with 53,407 veterans in attendance (44,713 Union, 8,694 Confederate), and more than 100,000 people who came to witness the momentous reunion. National media coverage carried the stories of the old veterans coming together on the battlefield not with desire for conflict, but with a desire to remember, reflect, and heal. Additional National Memorial and Peace Jubilee reunions were held in the following years on other battlefields.

In 1917, Hosea W. Rood, veteran of the 12th Wisconsin and caretaker of the GAR Memorial Hall, attended and commented on the Peace Jubilee held at Vicksburg. He annotated a panorama photograph from the event that most likely hung in the GAR Memorial Hall and remains in our collection today. He inscribed, “Thousands of old veterans—Union and Confederate— gathered there as guests of Uncle Sam, who paid all expenses…Wisconsin paid the entire expense of about 375 Vicksburg veterans on the trip down and back. The tents were pitched between the old siege lines.” Reunited on the bitterly fought battlefield, veterans had a chance to reflect with old comrades and foes on lives lost and lived and perhaps find peace, closure, and common ground. The final national reunion was held on the 75th anniversary of the Battle of Gettysburg in 1938.

Though attention will always be given to the original historical events themselves and rightfully so, especially for battles in terms of the cost of human life. As historians, we are reminded to look at the entire bigger picture to understand the deep impact those momentous events had on the individuals that not only experienced the events, but then had to reconcile those memories throughout the rest of their lives.

By: Kevin Hampton, Curator of History & Greg Lawson, Museum Store Manager