Ohio Valley Jewry During the Civil War
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Ohio Valley Jewry During the Civil War by STANLEY F. CHYET Whatever else may be distinctive about Jewish history, nothing compels our attention more than the fact — and the extent — of Jewish involvement in every one of the societies which have come to comprise Western civilization. From the very earliest times, begin- nings lost in the mists of antiquity, Jews have never found it possible to hold themselves aloof from the life emerging in the world around them. This is especially true here in America, and no one should be surprised to find that Jews in the Ohio Valley a century ago were as much caught up as their fellow citizens in the convulsions of the time. In general, Ohio Valley Jews shared the loyalties of their fellow citizens and reacted to the Civil War in a manner characteristic of the Valley as a whole.1 Exceptions there were — even notable ones — but they were exceptions. The Ohio Valley's Jewish community was not new in 1861. Nearly every river port of importance harbored its Jewish congrega- tion, and the Valley's largest Jewish community, that of Cincinnati, was already some forty years old when the war began. Cincinnati's oldest Jewish congregation, Bene Israel, better known today as the Rockdale Avenue Temple, had been the first to be established west of the Alleghenies, while B'nai Jeshurun, or Wise Temple as it is now called, had originated during the 1840's.2 The community's age notwithstanding, most of the Valley's Jews — as indeed most of the country's Jews — were of immigrant background in 1861. Most of them had come to these shores from German-speaking Central Europe. Those who had settled in the Valley constituted a part of the region's large German population. Virtually no economic enterprise in the Ohio Valley lacked Jew- ish representatives, but Cincinnati's garment industry featured an ^arnett R. Brickner, "The Jewish Community of Cincinnati, Historical and Descriptive, 1817-1933" (Ph.D. dissertation, University of Cincinnati, 1933), pp. 350-52; see also American Jewish Archives [AJA], XIII (No. 2, Nov., 1961), passim. 2Jacob R. Marcus, Memoirs of American Jews, 1775-1865 (Philadelphia, 1955), I, 206; Anonymous, The History of the K. K. Bene Yeshurun of Cincinnati, Ohio, from the Date of Its Organization (Cincinnati, 1892), Chap. I (unpaginated). 180 The Bulletin especially high proportion of Jewish participants.3 Charles Cist, in his Sketches and Statistics of Cincinnati in 1851, had noted that the garment industry was "a very extensive business here, which is prin- cipally engrossed by the Israelites. ..." The significance of this fact is highlighted by Cist's description of Cincinnati as "the great mart for ready-made clothing, for the whole South and West."4 The war's outbreak and the consequent closing of the Southern market ini- tially depressed the garment industry, but government contracts soon revived it and made it more lucrative than ever before. Jewish firms naturally benefitted from the resultant prosperity — none more so than the company of the brothers Mack, one of whom, Henry Mack, served through most of the war as the chairman of Hamilton County's Military Committee and was commissioned a colonel by Governor John Brough in 1864.5 We shall meet the Macks again in this account — in rather less savory circumstances. Politically, as well as geographically, the Ohio Valley was largely wedded to the Northern cause, and most of the Valley's Jewish citizens were outspokenly pro-Union in their sympathies. Rhenish- born Marcus M. Spiegel, Colonel of the 120th Ohio Infantry, had resided in Holmes County, near Canton, at the commencement of hostilities. He was typical of his fellow Valley Jews in regarding the Confederate banner as a "traitorous rag." "Ours," Colonel Spiegel told the troops under his command, "is the patriotic position of restoring the grand and sublime American Union — tranquility, peace and happiness to our bleeding country." On one occasion, Spiegel declared to his wife that he was anxious "for the suppression of this unholy and wicked rebellion. I am not in favor of settling this until the miserable cusses that would ruin our beloved country are thoroughly convinced of their error and completely whipped." The Colonel never lived to see that day, however, for he was mor- tally wounded on Louisiana's Red River in 1864. His daughter re- called in her memoirs that, at his death, he was about to be advanced to the rank of brigadier general.6 Another of the Valley's militantly pro-Union Jewish immigrants, Louis A. Gratz, had enlisted in the Northern army in the spring of 1861, only a few months after his arrival in America. Gratz had failed abysmally as a peddler in New York and Pennsylvania, and his 3See Williams' Cincinnati Almanac for the Year 1858: A City Guide and Busi- ness Mirror (Cincinnati, 1858), pp. 117-19. 4Charles Cist, Sketches and Statistics of Cincinnati in 1851 (Cincinnati, 1851), p. 184. ^Cincinnati, Past and Present (Cincinnati, 1872), p. 404; see also AJA, XIII, 174. *AJA, VII (No. 2, June, 1955), 232-33, and XIII, 191-99. Ohio Valley Jewry During the Civil War 181 enlistment may have been dictated by lack of anything better to do, but his military talents proved far superior to his business talents. Beginning as a common soldier, young Gratz distinguished himself at Chickamauga, and two years after his enlistment had risen to the rank of major, commanding the Union's Sixth Kentucky Cavalry. Major Gratz wrote to his family in Germany: "Should it be my destiny to lose my life, well, I will have sacrificed it for a cause to which I am attached with all my heart, that is: the liberation of the United States." The Confederacy aroused only his contempt. "While the South," he wrote, "has mobilized men from 16 to 64 — naturally only through the draft — we have an army equal to this number, which consists of men who left their homes and farms voluntarily in order to cleanse, with the blood of their hearts, the blemish that defiles their honor."7 No such flamboyant declaration has come down to us from a young Prussian-born cabinetmaker, Pvt. David Urbansky, of Piqua, JWM»*4 .|||il|giSlC-;; m * '•••*' Courtesy American Jewish Archives Soldier in center reading a book (possibly a Bible) is believed to be David Urbansky Ohio. Urbansky, who fought for the Union in the Mississippi cam- paign, apparently failed to record his sentiments, but his commander, Captain Charles Keller, of the 58th Ohio Infantry Regiment Volun- teers, warmly commended him "as a man of honor and bravery." Urbansky'& deportment "in the most sanguinary and hard contested 7Marcus, Memoirs, III, 226-35. 182 The Bulletin battles" did not go unnoticed by even higher authority, and Congress later conferred on him the Medal of Honor "for gallantry at Shiloh and Vicksburg."8 Urbansky's daughter, Professor Miriam Urban, later taught history at the University of Cincinnati for a generation. Although German birth predominated among the Jews of the Ohio Valley, one of the Valley's most memorable Jewish soldiers was French in origin. French-born Gabriel Netter, twenty-five years of age at the war's outbreak, reportedly enlisted in the Union forces as a private. Before long, however, he became a captain in the 26th Kentucky Infantry, mustered into service at Owensboro in the fall of 1861. The following summer, Captain Netter was com- missioned a lieutenant-colonel of the 15th Kentucky Cavalry and received authorization to recruit a regiment called the 34th Kentucky Mounted Infantry. The regiment came to be known as the Netter Battalion. Colonel Netter had prayed "for the speedy success of our noble and holy cause," but he was to share the fate of Ohio's Colonel Spiegel. Kentucky, at the outset of hostilities, found herself in the throes of her own Civil War — with a pro-Union legislature, a pro-secession- ist governor, and contending Union and Confederate military forces. In September, 1862, near Owensboro on the Ohio River, the Netter Battalion was surrounded by Confederate guerrillas and bidden to surrender. Colonel Netter's reply to the surrender demand is reminis- cent of — if more prolix than — the "Nuts!" which a German ulti- matum received at Bastogne during the Second World War. It was: "Never, till the last man of us is laid low in the dust." The Confeder- ate emissary, to whom this answer was entrusted, saluted, avowed his "most profound respect" for the young commander and the men of the Netter Battalion, and then withdrew to prepare for battle. A few minutes later, Colonel Netter was "laid low in the dust," a lifeless corpse. Said one of his subordinates of him in later years: "Had he lived through the war, I doubt not but that . his name and fame would have been placed along side of such men as Sheridan, Kilpatrick, and Custer." We can never know, of course, but there is no doubt at all that, as this same subordinate put it, "he was an honor to his race and to the country that gave him birth."9 These men — Spiegel, Gratz, Urbansky, Netter — were surely exceptional in their valor, but not in their sentiments. Most of their 8Photostats of David Urbansky Papers relating to Civil War service, 1861-1874 (Necrology, Medal of Honor, Discharge Papers, Statement of Award, Record of Service), American Jewish Archives, Cincinnati, Ohio; Simon Wolf, The Ameri- can Jew as Patriot, Soldier and Citizen (Philadelphia, 1895), pp. 107, 333 (Wolf refers to Urbansky as "Obranski" and "Orbanski"). 9Isaac W. Bernheim, History of the Settlement of Jews in Paducah and the Lower Ohio Valley (Paducah, Ky., 1912), pp.