Alderson Kevin L - Letters Home to Sarah: the Civil War Letters of Guy C. Taylor, Thirty-Sixth Wisconsin Volunteers

Guy Carlton Taylor (courtesy of Monroe County Local History Room, Sparta, Wisconsin)

Letters Home to Sarah

The Civil War Letters of Guy C. Taylor,
Thirty-Sixth Wisconsin Volunteers

GUY C. TAYLOR

Edited by Kevin Alderson and Patsy Alderson

THE UNIVERSITY OF WISCONSIN PRESS

The University of Wisconsin Press

1930 Monroe Street, 3rd Floor

Madison, Wisconsin 53711-2059

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Copyright 2012

The Board of Regents of the University of Wisconsin System

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any format or by any means, digital, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, or conveyed via the Internet or a website without written permission of the University of Wisconsin Press, except in the case of brief quotations embedded in critical articles and reviews.

Printed in the United States of America

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Taylor, Guy C., b. 1840.

Letters home to Sarah : the Civil War letters of Guy C. Taylor, Thirty-sixth Wisconsin Volunteers / Guy C. Taylor ; edited by Kevin Alderson and Patsy Alderson.

p. cm.

Includes bibliographical references and index.

ISBN 978-0-299-29120-4 (cloth : alk. paper) ISBN 978-0-299-29123-5 (e-book)

1. Taylor, Guy C., b. 1840Correspondence. 2. SoldiersWisconsinCorrespondence. 3. United States. Army. Wisconsin Infantry Regiment, 36th (18641865) 4. United StatesHistoryCivil War, 18611865Personal narratives. 5. WisconsinHistoryCivil War, 18611865Personal narratives. 6. United StatesHistoryCivil War, 18611865Regimental histories. 7. WisconsinHistoryCivil War, 18611865Regimental histories. I. Alderson, Kevin L. II. Alderson, Patsy. III. Title.

E537.536th .T39 2012

973.7475dc23

2012015329

To our children and grandchildren with all our love.

Joseph Alderson; Jeremy, Angela, Carson, Brantley, and Landry Biermeier; Ryan, Nichole, Katherine, Brayden, and Ashlyn Alderson; Bryan, Christin, Rylee, and Blake Biermeier; Greg, Dana (Biermeier), and Ella LaBansky.

To all other family members, past, present, and future.

To all of Americas veterans and their families, past, present, and future.

Going once... going twice... gone!! Sold to bidder number 80. The date was Saturday, April 29, 1995.

My wife Patsy and I were attending a household auction in Cashton, Wisconsin. Auctions had become one of our favorite pastimes, and we especially enjoyed collecting antiques to display in our folk Victorian home. At that auction, we were not intending to buy anything in particular but were willing, nevertheless, to bid if the right object caught our attention. Earlier in the day, we had executed our pre-auction ritual. We arrived about an hour before the sale and methodically inspected the items to be sold. We had learned from experience that once the selling started, there was little time to look things over. As I explored inside the garage of the residence, I spotted an old cardboard box. Upon examining its contents, I found a large quantity of envelopes. Most of the envelopes were blank, but on a few I noticed some printing along their top. I looked closer and read the words U.S. Sanitary Commission; on others, I read U.S. Christian Commission. Being a U.S. history teacher, I knew that during the Civil War both organizations had made significant contributions to the Union cause. None of the envelopes were sealed, so I picked one up and carefully peeked inside. I discovered a letter dated 1864. I thought to myself, These are not just any old letters. They are, or at least I believe they are, Civil War letters.

I was excited, to say the least, but I was also an auction veteran. So I tried not to bring too much attention to myself. I made every effort to act normal, at least normal for me. I quietly shared the news of my discovery with Patsy. She humored me and, at least on the surface, seemed to validate my excitement with her own. Her enthusiasm was, however, somewhat more tempered than mine, and she quickly helped me arrive at my bidding limit.

Then I waited... and waited... and waited some more. Often thousands of items are sold at auctions, and I knew I needed to maintain my focus on the proceedings. I tried to be sociable and not be rude, but I also made every effort to keep from being distracted.

After what seemed like an eternity, I began to panic. Had the letters already sold? Did I somehow miss them? Where were they? I shared my concerns with Patsy. She advised that I should exhibit more patience. Finally, I saw the box! The time for the sale of the letters had come.

The bidding began. In our experience, auctioneers usually start by seeking a high bid before bringing the price down to secure a first bid. Sometimes auction rookies, being overzealous, bite at the high price. When that happens, the opening bid is often higher than my limit, and I end up getting in no bid at all.

This time, however, the price came down. I bid early, but not too early. I did not want to appear too interested in buying the box. I also waited to see if family members of the auction household were bidding. I had made it a practice not to compete against a family trying to maintain ownership of one of its heirlooms. But I was relieved and surprised to find that no family descendants were bidding. As the price increased, prospective buyers gradually weeded themselves out. Then, only a local antique dealer and I remained. The price was rapidly approaching my limit. I glanced at Patsy and saw a somewhat troubled look on her face. I knew that my participation would soon need to end. I thought I would have to accept the old adage: you cant always have what you want.

Suddenly my competitor stopped bidding. At least for the moment, I held the high bid. I waited. I knew that a late bidder or some crafty auction attendant might still get into the action and push the price beyond my reach. Meanwhile, the auctioneer worked the crowd in an attempt to get one last offer. I waited some more. After what seemed to be a long pause, it was over. The box and its contents were mine. Applause arose from the crowd, and I stepped forward to claim my prize. I gripped that box of letters like a running back grips a football at the goal line: tight! Very tight!! For $95 I was the proud and happy owner of an old cardboard box and the contents within it. I assumed many would consider my investment to be a small one, but to a husband and wife with five children and a tight budget, the purchase bordered on being extravagant.

I really had very little knowledge of exactly what Patsy and I now owned, but I was anxious to find out.

Upon returning home, I eagerly, yet apprehensively, searched through the contents of the box. I was certain I would find some Civil War letters, but I had no way of knowing their number, condition, or quality. For all I knew, most of the envelopes could be empty or have nothing to do with the Civil War or be in poor condition or illegible. I knew that I had taken a chance at the auction, and now I could hope only for the best.