The Osborne Center for Historical Methods

When D.R. Anthony went to war in October of 1861, he left behind his budding journalism career, one that had in its short life already gained him notoriety as one of Leavenworth’s most outspoken and adamant voices.

His achievements as a journalist would eventually bring him fame equal to that he achieved on the battlefield, and would also make him one of the most influential people in Leavenworth. As is true with many stories about D.R. Anthony, it began with a fortuitous stroke of luck when D.R. Anthony partnered with friend D.W. Wilder to enter the newspaper business. On January 28, 1861, Anthony and Wilder established the Leavenworth Conservative, with Anthony as publisher and Wilder as editor. The very day after the Conservative was founded, news arrived from Washington D.C. that the Territory of Kansas had been accepted into the Union as a free state under the Wyandotte Constitution. Anthony seized the opportunity, riding to Lawrence,  the epicenter of the Free State movement, (and where the telegraph line did not reach) and presented issues of his newspaper to members of the Free State Legislature at the Eldridge House Hotel. The Eldridge, pictured above, is still in operation, though it is not the original structure. A powerful symbol of the Free State movement and Jayhawker headquarters, it suffered multiple attacks between 1855 and 1865 by Confederate guerillas who sought to destroy it. It is also reported to be haunted.

Anthony himself would recall his dramatic entry to the field of journalism 25 years later, on the 25th anniversary celebrations of Kansas’ admission. Speaking as the President of the recently created Kansas Historical Society, Anthony said “it was my privilege, twenty-five years ago today, to carry on horseback from Leavenworth to the territorial legislature then in session at Lawrence, intelligence of the admission of Kansas to the Union.” Not a man of modesty, Anthony reveled in his accomplishment.

As a journalist, Anthony brought the same straight ahead, no-nonsense approach that characterized the rest of his life. He stuck to his morals, and when he felt someone had misrepresented him or insulted him, he was quick to respond. In this respect he was like many of his contemporaries in the field. In an environment where the wounds of Bleeding Kansas were still fresh, this was an explosive mix, one that came to a head in June of 1861, shortly after the Civil War began. On June 3rd, a detachment of the First Kansas Infantry captured a Confederate Flag in Iatan, MO and brought it back to Leavenworth as spoils of war. The Conservative and other area papers endorsed the act. The White Cloud Chief trumpeted their bravery in an act that was not part of an official operation, but was done “on the sly.” After Anthony wrote a supportive article, Kansas Herald publisher R.C. Satterlee wrote and article of his own on June 13th, in which he accused Anthony of being a liar and possibly a coward. I say possibly because accounts of Satterlee’s article differ, and I have been unable to locate the article itself. Whatever it was that Satterlee said, it infuriated Anthony, who met Satterlee in the street and demanded a retraction. Satterlee refused, and both men drew their revolvers. Accounts differ over who fired first; The Oskaloosa Independent says Anthony fired first, but W.W. Admire’s account in his biography of Anthony says it was Satterlee who fired first. The White Cloud Chief does not specify. Similar differences exist over the quantity of shots. Whoever it was that shot first, Anthony had better aim, hitting Satterlee, whose own shots went wide and apparently injured a bystander. Satterlee died where he fell, and Anthony was charged, and eventually acquitted.

Anthony’s move to join the fraternity of newspapermen marked a seminal moment in his life. His military star, for all its brilliance, burned very briefly. As a newspaperman he would become one of the most respected and controversial figures in Kansas and his career would span nearly the rest of the century. He would also continue to get himself into trouble, and this would not be the last time one of Anthony’s quarrels in print led to a bloody confrontation.

Sources:

Admire, W. W. “An Early Kansas Pioneer.” Magazine of Western History 10, no. 5 (1889): 16.

Connelley, William Elsey. A Standard History of Kansas and Kansans. Chicago: Lewis, 1918.

“Leavenworth, June 13.” White Cloud Kansas Chief, June 20, 1861.

“Shooting Affray.” The Independent, June 19, 1861.

Another post from my own website-in-progress about Daniel Read Anthony. Anthony was an abolitionist, and this post explores some of his early life and background in a quest to explain where his particularly virulent abolitionism came from. Hint: It has something to do with Frederick Douglass. To aid readers, I should mention that Daniel Read Anthony’s father was named Daniel Anthony. I will do my best to keep Daniel Read Anthony and his father straight, but brace yourselves all the same. (more information on name issues!)

Courtesy, Monroe County (NY) Library

Daniel Anthony (image below) was a Quaker, who married a non-Quaker Lucy Read. As a Quaker, Daniel Anthony was a pacifist. Like some Quakers he also against slavery. According to historian Herbert Aptheker, not all Quakers were abolitionists, particularly those in the south, but then again Daniel Anthony was not a Quaker in the strictest sense either; he married a non-Quaker, and did not enforce the beliefs on his children. Certainly his eldest son was no pacifist. Ruined by the crash of 1837, the family moved to the town of Hardscrabble NY, which Mr. Anthony had renamed Center Falls (Harper, Life and Work of Susan B. Anthony 1898, 37) At this time young D.R. Anthony was not old enough to attend school,

so he went to work with his father in one of the mills he owned, spending a great deal of time with his strong-willed father. (Harper, 1898) While living in Center Falls, and later in Rochester, Anthony Sr “made his home into a hospitable mecca for fugitive slaves and abolitionists including Frederick Douglass.” (Jean Baker Sisters: The Lives of America’s Suffragists, 59) According to Baker, Susan B. Anthony once wrote her mother Lucy Read  that she “never saw a man so wrapped up in a nigger as Father is in Douglass.” (Baker, 59). Daniel Anthony was an abolitionist, and a particularly insistent one at that. William Lloyd Garrison Sr. was another frequent visitor, and he and Douglass would later work with Susan. (For further information on the

relationship between Garrison, Douglass, and Susan B. Anthony, see Harper, Vol. 1, 149-166) Daniel Read Anthony almost certainly met William Lloyd Garrison and Frederick Douglass before he was 25, maybe before 20. The significance of that in his life cannot be understated.

Father Daniel Anthony died on November 29 of 1862. This date will be important when I consider his son’s emancipation activities during the Civil War. Daniel Anthony’s obituary was published in Garrison’s Liberator on Dec. 5. It is below.

Daniel Anthony did not pass his Quaker roots too his eldest son, but he did pass his beliefs in equality of all men and women. Daniel Read Anthony (and all his siblings) grew up in a household full of firm beliefs and a willingness to fight for them. His father rebelled against Quaker practice multiple times, risking (and receiving) expulsion. He also associated with early members of the abolitionist movement, and may have aided fugitive slaves. (I have not confirmed this beyond Baker’s statement – see Baker, 59) To add to this culture of rebellion, their maternal Grandfather had fought in the Revolution, and possibly in Shays Rebellion.

Never shy to fight for what they believed in, the Anthony/Read family had a worthy heir in my subject. One might say Daniel Read Anthony combined not only the family names, but also family traits to become a powerful force in his time, as we will see when grown-up Daniel first encounters pro-slavery/anti-slavery tensions in Kansas and Missouri.

Sources:

Aptheker, Herbert. “The Quakers and Negro Slavery.” The Journal of Negro History 25, no. 3 (1940): 331-62.

Baker, Jean H. Sisters: The Lives of America’s Suffragists. New York: Hill & Wang, 2005.

Harper, Ida Husted Catt Carrie Chapman, and owner former. The Life and Work of Susan B. Anthony; Including Public Addresses, Her Own Letters and Many from Her Contemporaries During Fifty Years. Indianapolis and Kansas City: The Bowen-Merrill company, 1898.

Daniel Anthony’s Obituary courtesy of 19th Century US Newspapers (http://infotrac.galegroup.com)

There is certainly something to be said for standing before the great monuments of the Western world and gazing in awe at the megalithic symbols of civilization as we know it. Whether it be walking beneath the ancient stone walls of Rome’s Coliseum, traversing the marvelously Gothic transept of Paris’ Notre Dame or exploring the ruins of a prison on the small, mountainous islands of Frioul off the coast of Marseille, these acts strike the heart of anyone even remotely interested in history. We study all of these sorts of things in our classes, our textbooks and on our TV sets, but when the time comes to reach out and grasp that which has been merely words on a page or a picture in a book, the objects of our studies become so much more.

Engaging the Historical World - Courtesy Allie Reed '13

It is often said that the history major is one of the most “humanizing” disciplines in the Liberal Arts curricula. I, for one, took this to mean that we, as historically-minded students, had a broader understanding of the story of the human condition than most. This conception flew out the window the day that I set foot in Europe. The scope of what I would dub “living” history and memorialized history is present on an inconceivable scale across the continent. In terms of these abstract forms of history, the United States does a remarkable job, yet, there is only so much “American” history in America. Bologna, for example, can boast the largest preserved “old city” (by area) in Southern Europe. In this historic district, the numerous palazzi, torre and chiese (palaces, towers and churches) stand as living symbols of what Bologna has stood for throughout its long history. My favorite would probably be the Basilica di San Petronio, the central medieval church, which remains incomplete to this day because of the city’s attempts to build it larger than Rome’s San Pietro (an act that forced the hand of the Pope himself). This church stands to embody the revolutionary and rebellious nature of a city that has also been a stronghold for the Italian Communist Party for generations (it’s funny that a church symbolizes the struggle of a bunch of atheists, huh?).

Tangents about pretty churches aside, what I believe humanizes myself, as a student of history, is reading about and looking around the places that I travel to and feeling dwarfed by the achievements of the men and women that stood there before me. I can’t even conceive of the labor and planning that went and still is going into the construction of Barcelona’s Sagrada Familia or the pains of generations of artisans that constructed Prague’s Pražskỳ Hrad.

I suppose what I’m driving at through all this is that living history and memory is a critical, but often snubbed aspect of our discipline that traditionalist scholars look down their noses and through their Edward Gibbon at. Books are wonderful (I hope to write one someday) and I love a good lecture, but what draws crowds and the weeping of old ladies overwhelmed by memories of the past? The physical. The literal, visual, dextrous embodiment of everything that any even modestly-read person only dreams of. How can we inspire with history for the new generation of visual learners? Field trips. Images. The internet. These tools hold an immense breadth of techniques that will allow the next generation of teachers to engage the modern student more effectively. Think back now to your time in school. The most enchanting memories you hold are probably not a phrase from a book, or a note the teacher made on the board, but an interaction. Whether with an individual, place or object, that interaction is what perseveres in our memories and reminds us why we study the past.

Let me preface this post by telling all readers it comes from the website I am creating about Daniel Read Anthony, Kansas Journalist, abolitionist, and brother of Susan B. Anthony. This website is part of an Independent Study, and this post gives some insight into the politics of Reconstruction-era Kansas.

Proof of the power and respect Daniel R. Anthony commanded within the State of Kansas

(Courtesy, Biographical Directory of United States Congress)

is evident in one of the headlines of the 1872-73 political year. According to many sources, including William G. Cutler’s History of the State of Kansas, after the 1871 congressional elections, it came to light that Kansas Senator Alexander Caldwell (1830-1917) may have bribed members of the state legislature in order to procure their votes. (http://www.kancoll.org/books/cutler/sthist/annals-p4.html)

In February of 1872, the U.S. Senate authorized the “Senate Committee on Privileges and Elections” to investigate the charges. The investigation lasted over a year, and eventually resulted in the resignation Caldwell. (Mark Grossman, Political corruption in America: an encyclopedia of scandals, power, and greed. New York: ABC-CLIO Inc., 2003, 44)

As an amusing aside, Caldwell’s entry in Grossman’s alphabetically arranged book is followed by Bill Clinton’s 1996 campaign finance scandal. Indeed, some things never change, whether 1872 or 1996, party politics is rife with corruption.

Anthony’s Leavenworth Times devoted much of its space to the events as they unfolded. In the February 29, 1872 edition of the Times, Anthony published the full text of the Senate Legislature’s authorization for an investigation, calling it “a chapter of damaging revelations” and “a bad job all around.” The same issue of Anthony’s mouthpiece offered advice for Senator Caldwell as well, saying “Mr Caldwell must meet the issue; the affair, however unwelcome it may be to him, and to the people of Leavenworth, cannot longer be ignored; to remain silent now is to plead guilty to the indictment.” The entire issue from Feb. 29, is available through the following link. In the same issue, but a different article, the paper argues that the investigation into Senator Caldwell, which appears to have first began in the Kansas State legislature, was probably instigated by opponents of Caldwell who were bitter over their defeat. A full copy of the Feb. 29th issue is available below.

Leavenworth Times report on senate office corruption case (courtesy, http://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/)

Besides commenting on it, Anthony was also called upon to testify in the case as it developed. Cutler lists him as a witness in his account in History of Kansas and a New York Times article from January 19, 1873, mentions his testimony on the year-long investigation. W.S. Banks was an associate of Anthony, and I’m not sure if calling him the “Editor” of the Leavenworth Times was appropriate on the part of the NYT or not.

(Courtesy, 19th Century U.S. Newspapers)

This was a complicated matter for Anthony. He was, like Caldwell, a staunch Republican, and his newspaper calls into question the character of the men accusing Caldwell of bribery. However, it is evident he testified against his fellow Republican. Perhaps the explanation lies in Anthony’s prized idea of personal honor and integrity. From my study of him so far, reputation and honor were two things he prized. His February 29th paper notes the unequivocal tone of the committee report. For Anthony, no matter how much it pained him to see a fellow Republican indicted, he was obliged to do what he thought the right thing and to testify against Caldwell during the long investigation that followed.

No study abroad experience would be complete without studying at some degree of foreign university. In the case of Bologna, Italy, the city’s university offers a mind-boggling number of courses to its nearly 100,000 students from the undergraduate through the postgraduate level. However, the unique nature of Dickinson in Bologna offers a different option for some students.

The Main University Square - Piazza Verdi

One of Johns Hopkins University’s graduate schools in foreign affairs happens to be located right along Via Belmeloro (that’s Belmeloro Street folks) in the heart of the city. The students have tremendously diverse backgrounds (including history) and come from all over the world. There are even professionals that enroll in, and audit courses. Dickinson is the only undergraduate institution in the city that is allowed to enroll students in its graduate-level classes.

Johns Hopkins in Bologna

But wait a minute, what does this have to do with history? Well, a largely political science-based grad school is an interesting (and trying) experience for any history major. In my case, I am enrolled in a class titled “Alliances and International Relations,” taught by the esteemed Professor Marco Cesa (every time I mention his name eyes light up around the room). No, it’s not an outright history class, but it uses case studies and historical precedent to understand the nature of alliances and how they apply to international relations theory (cool, right?). Here’s the kicker: most of what we learn as undergraduate history majors teaches us to discover a historian’s thesis, agree or disagree and respond in kind. When we read an article for Hopkins, it’s assumed that you know what the scholar is arguing. It becomes your job to tear apart his (or her) argument, point out its flaws and essentially introduce your own theory. Just to make things even better, it’s political science (and IR theory, to boot). Translation: the way one has to think about the substance of the course is completely different from history. Everything is very mathematical and tightly bound to certain schools of thought. If you’re talking about how state actors interact in multipolar power systems, you’d better be thinking like a realist or an idealist, because there is no middle ground. Thinking like a historian, while limiting at certain times, allows a scholar to transcend much of the “jargony,” broad-based theories of political science and often develop a more thorough understanding of something’s nature.

What I’m trying to say about all this is that, as a history major, I feel I am broadening my ability to think about what I am reading. While courses like History 304 highly encourage criticism and reasoning about scholarly work (thank you Professor Pinsker), grad school forces one to take the next critical step in academia, and openly say someone with several more degrees and a lot more books published than you is simply wrong. It really makes this idea set in: if political science can be radically flawed, what in the world can be said for history.  Put your thinking caps on Dickinson, it’s a big, scary and bad-scholarly-article-filled world out there.

[If at any point this came across as implying that we don’t think enough in the history department, that is not the intention. Quite the contrary. I think that I was by far the best prepared Dickinson student at Hopkins because of my methodological work in Carlisle.]

Over the course of the last seven months, I have had the incredible opportunity to study abroad in Bologna, Italy.  While this particular Dickinson program is not particularly adverse (due to the absence of a language requirement and virtually all courses being taught in English), the breadth of foreign scholars that have taught our lessons has been immense.  In terms of the history courses I have enrolled in specifically, there are two professors that stand out as interesting examples of just why studying abroad can teach a student a thing or two about “how the other half lives.”

Aerial View of Bologna

In the Fall, Professor Mark Gilbert, an Englishman employed by Johns Hopkins’ SAIS program, taught a course on the development of the European Union.  Currently, Professor Mario Del Pero, an Italian teaching at numerous institutions, brought a course to Dickinson titled Transatlantic Relations.  While the courses are very similar in content, these two scholars have nearly diametrically opposed viewpoints on the relevance of certain individuals and events.  In fact, I usually end up feeling a bit silly when my contributions to Prof. Del Pero’s course include information learned from Prof. Gilbert that is almost immediately dismissed.  For example, Prof. Gilbert is what some might label an “integrationist.”  In essence, he is a general fan of the EU.  Therefore, the minor organizations and treaties that built up to the formation of the EU play a principal role in his lectures, in addition to America’s altruistic contributions.  Prof. Del Pero is quite the opposite.  He does not see the US as altruistic at all, and is more concerned with the development of the Cold War as a means to integration that probably should not have occurred as it did.  I happened to suggest in class that the Marshall Plan was crucial to Europe’s economic recovery following the Second World War and that it was based on American generosity.  Needless to say, Prof. Del Pero enjoyed poking fun at me for the rest of the lesson.

Marshall Plan "Propaganda"

I have personally never noticed such a distinct professional difference among Dickinson’s faculty in Carlisle.  While we study historiography in History 304 and beyond, seldom does a history major get to experience it first-hand, in the classroom.  These two excellent and engaging scholars struggle to find common ground, yet they encourage meaningful thought about what they are teaching (at least for this history major).

Classroom experiences like this are probably the most valuable part of studying abroad.  For all of you future-study-abroaders out there, don’t be afraid to step outside Dickinson’s limestone walls and into the red brick of Emilia-Romagna.  You just might accidentally learn something.