Tuesday, March 19, 2019

13 & 14 -- Joseph William Bream (1856-1931) and Sarah Catherine Taylor (1860-1951)

Joseph was born on September 21, 1856 into a classic Pennsylvania Dutch farm family. Sarah, born August 20, 1860, was descended primarily from Ulster Scots. Both of their families had been in the area for generations. 

Granddaughter Phyllis’s notes say that Joe was kind and gentle. He worked as a tax assessor in addition to his farming and fretted much over being fair. Phyllis said he died of “blood poisoning from a carbuncle on his cheek” at the age of 75, when Phyllis was only five; his 1931 death certificate said “thrombosis of the brain and prostration.”

Phyllis knew her Grandmother Bream better, because she lived with Phyllis's family for a while at the end. She thought her grandmother was “the sweetest woman, always willing to help, never asked a thing, made quilts and read her Bible until she was nearly blind.” Sarah did not fear death. She would, in fact, tell her granddaughter that she was eager to go see “my Joe” again.

Sarah’s parents owned a farm near Gettysburg, which wasn’t the best place to be in July 1863. Sarah was not quite 3 years old, but even as an old woman, she still remembered the incident. On August 22, 1950, The Harrisburg Evening News ran the following story:
Camp Hill – Cannons of the Civil War still echo in the memories of Mrs. Sarah Taylor Bream, of Camp Hill, who celebrated her 90th birthday Sunday.
During the Battle of Gettysburg, a New York regiment passed through “The Narrow” near Arendtsville, where Mrs. Bream lived as a girl. The soldiers were on their way to Gettysburg from Chambersburg. When the family refused to tell where the father was keeping the horses, which the soldiers badly needed for their trip, they took her brother with them.
The family was frightened, but the boy was returned later unharmed.
Her mother was also forced by the soldiers to bake bread using her entire supply of flour. Mrs. Taylor wept. The soldiers were moved by her tears and gave her some of their own flour.

I heard the story in a little more detail from my mother Phyllis, who must have heard her grandmother tell it several times.

When it became clear that the armies were heading their way, Sarah’s father, Levi, had taken the horses into the woods, while Sarah’s mother, Catherine, stayed with the children. Levi did not tell Catherine precisely where he was going, so that she could honestly tell the soldiers she didn’t know. 
 
First to visit the farm was a regiment from North Carolina. Catherine’s mother found them frightening, of course, but well-mannered. They took only half her flour, sugar, and other staples, and paid her for them. True, the payment was in worthless Confederate cash, but they were polite.

Later, New Yorkers arrived. They were very rude; took all the flour; and didn’t offer to pay. They told Catherine that she could either tell them where the horses were or they would take her ten-year-old son, Harvey. She couldn’t tell them, so they took the boy when they left. Of course, they had no use for an ten-year-old, so they put him off the horse about a mile from the farm and told him to go home.

Nearly three-year old Sarah remembered hiding under the kitchen table while all this was going on, and ever afterward “New Yorker” was an epithet in the Taylor/Bream household.

Sarah and Joe met when Sarah was forced to quit school to help with the family’s income. She was hired out to work at the Andrew Bream farm. The couple lived on the Bream farm for many years, and had three children: our ancestor Esta (#6), her sister Carrie and, sadly, a son who was stillborn during a blizzard while Joe was out trying to fetch a doctor. 
 
Checking the family story against the official history of the battle, it seems most likely that the Confederate soldiers were with Major General Robert Rodes' division, who were on the road from Chambersburg to Gettysburg on June 30. (History records no Union troops in that area, either before or after the battle.) 
 
Unfortunately, it's possible that the polite North Carolina soldiers met their end the next day. On July 1, Rodes' division arrived at the north end of Gettysburg atop Oak Hill, engaging the Union I Corps on Oak Ridge. Rodes deployed four brigades to strike the Union line, including a frontal assault by Alfred Iverson’s North Carolina Brigade, which was devastated in the assault. Despite the heavy losses, Rodes regrouped and eventually helped push the Union forces back into the streets of Gettysburg that afternoon. Rodes's Division suffered the second-highest losses of any Confederate division at Gettysburg, despite being left in reserve for the rest of the battle. 
So who were those New Yorkers, if no Union regiments ever marched that far northwest of Gettysburg? It's probable that they were deserters or stragglers. Had it been a detachment foraging for supplies under orders, an officer or sergeant would have been present, and the soldiers would have been more disciplined. They would have paid for what they took or at a minimum left the family with instructions about how to get reimbursed and most definitely would not have kidnapped our 10-year-old great granduncle Harvey, even for an hour or two. 
Desertion is not an outlandish possibility. It was not severely punished during the Civil War, and overall desertion rates appear to have been around 9-10% at the baseline, but rose higher immediately before, during, and after battles, when Northern generals reckoned that at least one soldier in five was absent from his regiment. In the chaos of a three-day battle involving roughly 90,000 Union troops, the number of men who were unaccounted for, straggling, or had simply walked away from their units at any given moment was substantial.  
Further, New York had a higher desertion rate than any other state--in fact, the NYC draft riots occurred shortly after the battle of Gettysburg.  Irish and German immigrants lacked the $300 fee that would have excused them from the draft and so were serving under economic pressure. With limited stake in the war's ideological stakes and limited loyalty to officers and units they may have only recently joined, the New York conscripts disproportionately produced exactly the kind of men who might desert in the aftermath of a brutal battle and behave with the lawlessness Catherine experienced.  Class resentment would also likely have played a role in the poor urban soldiers' conduct when they reached the prosperous Adams County farms. 
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Daughter: Esta Bream

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