In his diary, Columbus Williamson Holbrook usually avoids serious topics.

Mostly, the young merchant from Mt. Vernon, Texas, writes about everyday things, among them women and food. He also writes about people he and the Mt. Vernon Grays encountered during their journey from the Piney Woods of east Texas to Springfield, Missouri, where they would join the Third Texas Cavalry in August of 1861.

For instance, on Aug. 4, Holbrook writes, “We saw six or eight indians this morning at a spring which were a great curiosity to some of the boys.”

Holbrook also mentions people who gave them corn for their horses or invited them to dinner. I’d like to find out who these people were — Mr. Dowdy, Mr. Frank Simms, Mr. Starr, Mr. Leebough, Mr. Wilks and others. One could spend a lifetime, I imagine, addressing every little thing mentioned in Holbrook’s diary.

At some point, however, War had to rear its ugly head. This is a Civil War diary, after all.

On Aug. 12, not too far from Fayetteville, Arkansas, the Mt. Vernon Grays stop for the night on the property of a Mr. Calahan. There, Holbrook writes, “we heard the good news of the battle and glorious victory of our army at Springfield.”

The battle he writes about is Wilson’s Creek, fought on Aug. 10, 1861. It was a Confederate victory. After arriving in Springfield on Aug. 14, Holbrook jots down his observations (paragraphs added, but otherwise as written):

Today being the fifteenth day since we left home we set out early for the camp which is five miles this side of Springfield a distance of forty miles for to days travel. We did not stop to get diner or feed our horses but rolled on through the dust that had been beat up as fine as flour by army ahead

we met crowds of people going to and fro who had been to the battle field anxiously enquiring about their friends. For thirty miles along the road to Springfield there is scarcely a hous that is occupied, their finery torn down and crops distroyed, stacks of grain eaten up, houses lef open, beds and furniture scattered over the floor, yard gates torn down, ruin and devastation has spread over the land. …

We got to the battlefield about three o’clock this evening. When we got there, we met with Lieu[tenant] Conly from Capt Bryants Company, who went with us over the battlefield and showed us where the principal engagements were.

The Lincolnites buried their dead for three days, but when we got there four days after the battle there were plenty of dead Dutch upon the field, which presented quite a gastly specticle to see poor human beings left dead upon the sod, uncared for but by the ugly fowls that eat their flesh. …

Next week — perhaps two weeks from now, depending on how the research goes — I’ll try to answer the question, “Who were the Mt. Vernon Grays?”

In addition to the diary, I’ve been studying Holbrook’s company roster, the census and other public records to try to determine who these nine young men were. It’s not the easiest question to answer, without benefit of a time machine, but I’ll do my best.

Until next time.

As I transcribed the Civil War diary of Columbus Williamson Holbrook, a distant uncle-in-law of my husband, John, I noticed the timelessness of it. Although it was written 155 years ago, much of what Holbrook writes could have been written in 2016.

As Holbrook wrote in his first entry, he and the Mt. Vernon Grays left “fathers, mothers, brothers and sisters and numerous near and dear friends.” No wives are mentioned (although there might have been at least one, which I’ll address in a future post).

It’s safe to say these were young Texans, off on an adventure — as Holbrook put it, “to join the army of the Southern Confederacy.”

Perhaps it’s not surprising then, that much of what Holbrook wrote about concerned women and food. I’ve pulled a few sentences from the diary on these topics. Note: for the most part, I’ve left the entries as written, with spelling and punctuation errors.

On women:

August 1: …Before we got to Clarksville T.B. Turner and myself called by to see some female friends …

Aug 11: … passed over the boston mountains and on the top of the mountain we met three grand ladies going to church two of whom had their shoes in their hands walking barefoot over the rocks. I suppose they intended to put them on before they got to church …

Aug 18: … had the pleasure of seeing some of the Missouri girls to day and five of them attended church. They look good, but poorly compare with the ladies at home.

Aug 22: … had the excruciating pleasure of being placed on guard. I have now come to the conclusion that soldiers should be paid well, honored highly and get the prettiest women in the land for wives.

Sept 1: … We were visited this evening by ten or fifteen well grown Missouri girls.

Sept 9: … All were buisly engaged yesterday and till a late hour last night writing letters. No doubt there were many aerial flights and expressions of love pened to the fair bright eyed Ladies of Texas by the way-worn home-sick lovers of this regiment. If they were all collected and published they would furnish a volumn with as much variety and mirth as Maj Jones Courtship.

While transcribing Holbrook’s diary, there were lots of things I had to Google, among them, “Major Jones’s Courtship.” A popular novel of the day, it first published in 1843 and written by William Tappan Thompson.

It’s evident from this book reference and his writing in general — however bad the spelling and punctuation — that Holbrook was an educated man.

After reading this entry, I also had to find out what “tipped our beavers” meant:

Sept 18: … heard the soft notes of a piano up the street and after taking a little Missouri peach brandy a friend of mine and myself called at the young Ladies door, tip[p]ed our beavers and walked in. Had some fine music by the lady, who was a fifteen year old girl but very talkative. The excitement caused by the young Lady, the music or the brandy, I wont say which, had some effect on my legs and head and oiled the runing … of my tongue.

After (carefully, nervously) Googling the phrase, I discovered that hats in that time period were made of beaver fur, thus, the men tipped their hats upon meeting the young lady.

Sept 22: …We were visited in camp to day by several very nice Ladies they all seem anxious to bestow any favor on us that they can I record it to their praise that the Ladis Missouri seem more zelius in the cause of liberty than the men.

[Sept] 25: … I have been in town almost all day took diner at the Hotel with my friend [A.G.] Hargrove we sasshaed around town generally and called on Miss Muller and had some fine music, for Missouri.

On food:

Aug 5: … got a supply of Bacon and some fresh buiscuit. …

Aug 6: We left camp this morning very early traveled over some rough rocky road got a birds eye view of the Ozark Mountins … found some good watermelons the owner of which was patriotic enough to charge us fifteen cents a piece. The citizens in this portion of the county would have you believe they are very patriotic, but they love to charge too well to suit me. …

Aug 9: … We staid in town all night, took supper and breakfast with Mr. Trotter it being a good place …

Aug 13: This morning, we were so anxious to go on we left without our breakfast and traveled eight or ten miles and made some coffee to refresh us and on we went again. …

Aug 20: … When diner time came, we found we had no flower. We boiled some beef and made some rosting ear soup and digned bountifully on the same without bread. … At supper, fortunately we got a little corn meal and Irish potatoes accidentally.

Aug 23: … After breakfast, Capt [Jonathan] Russel myself and ten others went out in the county foraging. We got two waggen loads of old corn some fine apples and had the unusial pleasure of digning at the table of a true Secessionist. We had a good county diner and all eat heartily of the snaps & Bacon potatoes & fried corn stewed apples and apple pies and honey and other rare dainties. …

Aug 26: This day was Tuesday but nothing of note occured except that we did not have much to eat.

Aug 28: … fine to day plenty to eat such as it is corn bread beef and coffee is the only three articles we have in our pantry …

Sept 12: This is a very drizzly unpleasant day. I got back to camp this evening about four oclock, found nothing to eat at my mess looked around among the other messes and finally found some cold bread and molasses and made a hearty diner out of it. …

Sept 13:  … Nothing occured to day worthy of note except the arival of a hoghead of sugar and two bbl [barrells] of whisky … We have not had the opportunity of sampling the whisky and dont know wheather we will or not.

Sept 14: … [George] Stringfellow and myself cooked we made a peach pie, washed up the tin pans, had some good buiscuit and some beef hash and coffee with sugar in it. Asked Capt Russel to dign with us. We had a sumptious repast. It is laughable sometimes to see the boys guarding over there rashings and dividing the forage. Some allwais sware that someone has more than he has.

Sept 22: …Our mess had a fine diner today had beans the first time I have had the pleasure of eating this favorible vegetable since I left home. …

Sept 24: … took diner with Dr. Bradford, by invitation who is a good Secessionist and is a very clever Gentleman. His good Lady prepared us the best diner we have had the good fortune to partake of since we have been in Missouri and gave us a pressing invitation to come back again.

Oct 2: … Orderly [Harry] Height came in from an excursion in the country to day and brought with him three or four chickens. The boys alwais say they buy them, but the supposition is they press them.

Perplexed by Holbrook’s use of the word “press,” I did a little Googling and discovered that the young men of the Third Texas Cavalry, Company H, probably stole the chickens. Again, the diary proves itself timeless. Boys will be boys.

Next week, we’ll shift gears to the more serious subject of war and its horrors, and what Holbrook had to say about that. Until then.

On July 31, 1861, Columbus Williamson Holbrook — “C.W.” to family and friends — left the little town of Mt. Vernon, in the piney woods of east Texas, with a small group of young, local men. They called themselves the “Mt. Vernon Grays.”

The Grays were headed to Springfield, Missouri, almost 400 miles away. There, they would rendezvous with the Third Texas Cavalry, which was readying for battle at Wilson’s Creek. Holbrook, then a merchant in his mid-20s, would join Company H. So would his friend, George Stringfellow, a merchant from neighboring Hopkins County.

Upon leaving home, Holbrook wrote in his diary:

On the 31 day of July 1861 our Little company of nine left our lovely homes in the town of Mt. Vernon, Titus Co., Texas, tore ourselves from our Fathers, Mothers, Brothers, and Sisters and numerous near and dear friends to join the army of the Southern Confederacy.

In “The Third Texas Cavalry in the Civil War,” author Douglas Hale, professor emeritus of history at Oklahoma State University, writes, “In each case, the departure of the local company from its little hometown was attended by a huge assemblage of well-wishers: patriotic speeches, the formal presentation of a company ensign, and frequently a barbecue formed the program.”

From Holbrook’s description, the same might be said of Mt. Vernon:

We left Mt. Vernon at 10 oclock A.M. amid one of the most affecting senes I ever saw. We left as cheerfully as the circumstances would admit of, and to disipate the deep gloom that hung over us we laughed and talked all the evening, and a passer by would not observed anything gloomy in our company this evening. We marched about seventeen miles to day and camped near Trents crossing … at a very beautiful lake where we had a fine time. The band gave us music till midnight when we placed our blankets on the grass and tried to sleep, but there was not much sleep for us thinking of our weeping family that was left behind and the long twelve months before we could see them again.

Holbrook must have been well-liked in Mt. Vernon, a town that in 1861 had only about 200 residents. Before he rode out of town that morning, friends penned patriotic farewell letters in the diary.

One eloquent missive was written by Mollie Mann, a schoolteacher and a member of the town’s prominent Fanning family:

C.W. Holbrook: Life — it seems — is but a varied prospect of lights and shadows — and alas! — how often we find the latter predominate — that fair landscape which gay fancy so brightly wrought marred by the rude listings of sober reality. This great national calamity which has befallen our country has probably produced more anguish of heart than can easily be conceived. When we contemplate the once happy, prosperous and peaceful condition of our country, and the benign influence of the government which was a nation’s pride — realizing that its glory has departed and the present aspect of our country portending a fearful contest of millions of civilized men, what mind could be susceptible of any other emotion than that of deep and painful regret. We are called upon to relinquish our beloved friends — to prepare them for deadly conflict — embracing them perhaps for the last time, as they wave us a long, sad farewell — leaving us all the heart holds dear and hasten to the scene of carnage. But believing that we have Divine approval in the cause you espouse, we bid you go. And tho we are not unmindful of the hardships and perils of a soldier’s life — this is no time for frail hearts — this is a period for heroes, for hearts brave and true, and while you are the objects of our tenderest sympathies and most fervent prayers — remember that Liberty is the sweetest boon of life and dearer far — that we would rather weep over a soldier’s grave, than dwell under the oppressor’s sway. Then, go bravely go, and teach the cowards how to claim our rights and pervert our liberties, and may you happily survive the conflict. “Your honor calls you hence, then go and all the gods go with you, upon your sword sit laurel victory and smooth success be strewed before your feet.”

This farewell letter was written by another friend, E.G. Patton:

Mr. Holbrook! Goodbye, for a few days past we have been deeply interested in your contemplated departure and now as the last privilege of expiring friendship, I am requested to subscribe myself in your journal among the favored ones you cherish as friends. You go to participate in the unhappy crisis of the day — and tho’ you have our fondest wishes and our never ceasing rememberance, we will not cloud your departure with regrets. But bid you go — go join the brave valiant Sons of the South and nobly defend our rights. We bid you Heavenly smiles and a joyous return to your cherished home and much loved friends you now bid adieu.

After leaving Mt. Vernon, Holbrook wrote about how the Grays were received in towns they passed through on their way to Springfield:

Aug 1: … When we marched into town, we were cordially received by the good Citizens of the place, every one wanting to do us some favor. We were conducted out of town by Mr. Frank Simms whose kindness of himself and family [will] long be remembered by our little company. We had a very pressing invitation to attend a dansing party to night but declined.

Aug 6: … found some good watermelons, the owner of which was patriotic enough to charge fifteen cents a piece. The citizens in this portion of the count[r]y would have you believe they are very patriotic but they love to charge too well to suit me. We traveled sixteen miles in the fore noon today, got our din[n]er and fed our horses at Mr. McDanels spring, had some fine buiscuits baked, eat heartily and some of the boys took a snoose in the after noon. We traveled fifteen miles and camped out at Mr. Lanes when Georg Stringfellow was a little sick. Mr. Lane had two son in laws to the war. We saw their wives. They showed us their husbands daguerreotypes and said they were man enough to fight themselves.

Next week, we’ll see that Holbrook, a typical young man (even by today’s standards), spent a lot of time thinking about two things: food and women. Until then.

About 12 years ago, John and I were at his grandma’s house in Cookeville, Tennessee. The grandchildren all called her “Dearmom,” although no one’s quite sure why. Regardless she was Dearmom to everyone, including me.

During that visit, we were in Dearmom’s basement, looking through boxes of stuff that had belonged to John’s late-grandpa, Bromfield Ridley. Brom, as he was called, was a character. Among his many quirks was that he wrote his name on everything — books, tools, whatever belonged to him — in black magic marker.

Brom also flew cargo planes in North Africa in World War II, was a college biology professor and once went fishing with football legend Terry Bradshaw.

While going through boxes, one of us came across a tattered book with one of those old, marbled covers. It was literally falling apart. Affixed to the front of it was yellow sticky note that said this: “Civil War diary of some Holbrook or McCuistion — don’t know any more about it.”

Turns out, the diary was written during the summer and fall of 1861 by Columbus Williamson Holbrook, of Mt. Vernon, Texas. John’s grandpa’s older sister, Mary Wells, had married a Holbrook, although not until the 1900s.

The diary passed down through the Holbrook family, then to Mary Wells and her husband, and finally to John’s grandparents. Because John and I are interested in history, Dearmom gave it to us.

The diary sat around our house for about 10 years in a gallon-sized baggy. That is not a good way to store a paper document, by the way, but regardless, there it sat on a shelf in the office.

Over the years, one or the other of us opened the diary a few times, but the writing was mostly in pencil and very faded and difficult to read. It wasn’t until about two years ago that I decided to transcribe the diary from beginning to end.

Like I said, it was in terrible shape. Some pages were falling out. There were moldy spots and some rips and holes. I don’t imagine my handling of it did it any favors in the end, but the thought of being perhaps the only person who had ever read the entire thing was too enticing to resist. What secrets would I discover inside?

So over the summer of 2014, sometimes using a magnifying glass, I transcribed C.W. Holbrook’s diary. The first entry, after a listing of Holbrook family members, is written by Holbrook’s younger brother, William Walter Scott Holbrook:

Mr. C.W. Holbrook

My dear brother that fell a victim in the war. He is gone to his eternal abode where there is piece, joy and happiness throughout the endless ages of eternity. Your brother.

W.S. Holbrook

I don’t know exactly when William Walter Scott Holbrook penned this sweet eulogy to his brother. The 1860 U.S. Census for Titus County, Texas, lists W.W.S. Holbrook as a 2 year old, so it’s likely the entry was written much later than his brother’s death, which is said to have occurred sometime in 1862.

It’s possible the younger Holbrook didn’t even remember his brother, but wrote the entry based on what he was told by other family members.

Soon, I’ll post eloquent farewell letters, written in Holbrook’s diary by his neighbors and friends. But I guess that’s enough for now. Until later…