The Courier-Journal from Louisville, Kentucky • Page 41

SECTION 3 PASSING SHOT THE COURIER-JOURNAL, LOUISVILLE, SUNDAY MORNING, MAY 27, 1951. A BRIDGE HEAD I TIME Only 19 of the 4,000,000 soldiers who wore the Civil War blue and gray are alive today NATIONAL 3 14 By The Associated Pres f'' X'T; Iff --Ft' 1 Nil I ipllili $150 monthly pension from State. Three of five daughters, all over 70, still living. William Joshua Bush. 105, Fitzgerald.

Ga. Served with Company 14th Georgia Regiment. Father and older brother also fought South. Bush's wife, many years his junior (they were married when he was 76), teaches at nearby school. Bush is all-out Democrat with keen interest in public affairs.

Said in 1949: "No reason why I shouldn't live 120." i Arnold Murray, 104, Orangeburg, S. C. Lives in cabin with son on farm several miles out of town. He says: "I volunteered when I was a youngster because my pa and brother were way up yonder somewhere in Virginia, fightin'. "They sent me to Sullivan's Island, near Charleston.

I was only a trainee, and the war ended before I could ever get into the fight." Joseph: Clovese Union, 107, Michigan "vS mSmSi sr-i A fill 1 itiMl 1 William A. Lundy, 103, Laurel Hill, Fla. Enlisted at 16 in Coffee County, Alabama, Home Guards. By special act of the Florida State Legislature, the Alabama veteran got Florida's pension rolls, and receives $480 year. He's still active enough to travel family reunions.

George Washington Keith, 102, Graceville, Fla. Enlisted in Home Guard company in Florida in 1863. Says: "I can't remember any particular service I performed, but I was Subject to orders at all times." Does remember he wasn't captured or wounded. Married in 1873 and father of eight children. An active farmer until he was injured an auto accident at 90.

Now spends most his time listening to radio news of Korean fighting. Union James A. Hard, Rochester, N. Y. Oldest of all the Civil War veterans, he'll be 110 on July 15.

Physical powers failing, but mind still active. Amazed doctors by surviving three attacks of pneumonia at 107. Still smokes cigars. Took along 20 boxes when he flew to Indianapolis in 1949 for the last national encampment of the Grand Army of The Republic. Son of a stagecoach driver, Hard enlisted four days after Fort Sumter was attacked, served in the 37th New York Volunteer Infantry.

Survived two wives. Voted first time for Lincoln. Voted straight Republican ever since. Douglas T. Story, 106, Los Angeles.

At 16, ran away from home three times to join Union Army. "Just had to defend St. Louis from ole General Joe Shelby," he says. His father let the third enlistment stick. Worked on Showboats Story fought through war as private, 136th Illinois Infantry.

Later, her worked as musician and entertainer aboard Mississippi River showboats, as a clock repairman and in real estate. Has a son, seven grand- children, eight great-grandchildren and three great-great-grandchildren. William Allen Magee, 104, Van Nuys, Cal. Joined up as drummer boy at 13, recalls sounding reveille for Sherman's troops on sweep through Georgia. Stayed in Army 34 years.

Fought Indians in Dakotas. Retired as maste sergeant, and has since lived on pension. Native of Circleville, Ohio. Now lives with daughter. Has one other daughter, three grandchildren and nine great-grandchildren.

On longevity: "Never had a drink in my life, but I smoke 10 cigars a day." Joseph Clovese, approximately 107, Pon-tiac, Mich. Is the only surviving Negro soldier. Uncertain of exact birthdate. Believed to have been born in slavery on a plantation in St. Bernard Parish, Louisiana.

Escaped to join Union Army during siege of Vicksburg, first as drummer boy, later as an infantryman. Helped String Wire After war, worked on Mississippi boats, and recalls he helped string one of the first telegraph lines between New Orleans and Biloxi, Miss. Came North in 1948. Until he was 104, took a walk every day. More recently has become bedfast in veterans' hospital.

Lansing A. Wilcox, 105, King, Wis. Lives at G.A.R. Home. Broke rib in fall last year, but recovered in time to be on feet for his birthday last March.

Recalls he served three years as corporal in 4th Wisconsin Cavalry. Later worked in sawmills, taught school, was a postmaster, and farmed. He is now married to his fourth wife, who is 72. Divorced first wife. Other two died.

Wilcox is a past national vice-commander of the G.A.R. Albert Woolson, 104, Duluth, Minn. Native of Watertown, N. Y. Enlisted as drummer boy, Minnesota Artillery, in 1864.

Recalls serving in Nashville-Atlanta campaigns. A past national senior vice-commander of G.A.R. Survives his second wife and lives with a daughter. He has eight children, 11 grandchildren, six great-grandchildren and four great-great-grandchildren. Israel Aaron Broadsword, 104, Samuels, Idaho.

Still walks without a cane, and cuts firewood with a bucksaw. A native of Putnam County, Ohio, he joined 51st Missouri Volunteer Infantry at 16 and fought at Lexington, Mo. Later fought the Sioux, battled grasshoppers and the drought on a Kansas homestead, and moved to Idaho in 1929. In 1947, was awarded a Service Medal for the Civil War 82 years after his discharge. THESE are the old soldiers of the, old war.

Once there were 4,000,000 of them. Last year, there were 43. Last March, there were 26. Now, there are only 19 a shrinking bridgehead in time. They sit on their porches, smoke their pipes, nod drowsily to reporters who every year around this time come out to the Old Soldiers' Home or the cabin up the road for a Memorial Day story.

Dutifully, the old soldiers give their annual advice on longevity. Patiently, they make the long journey back in memory to Shiloh, Gettysburg, Vicksburg to the last time Americans fought Americans. Every year, they remember a little less of the CiVil War. Every year, there-are fewer of them to remember. Now, 86 years after Appomattox, there are 12 Confederate and seven Union veterans left.

Here they are: Confederate John A. Marcum, 97, Berta, youngest of all Civil War veterans oh either side, was the last to die. He died Friday almost on the eve of Memorial Day celebrations in his state.1. At one time he was quoted as saying that when he was 9, he served with General Lee's headquarters company. Confederate soldiers came by one day and asked him for directions.

He left with them. Marcum and wife, daughter of a Confederate Army chaplain, lived in ancient log house overlooking busy highway connecting Little Rock and Fort Smith. He worked own farm until 1948, but a fall from his porch, forced him to retire. How did he fall? 4'I was in a hurry to eat breakfast and clipped on the steps," Marcum used to tell visitors. Thomas Evans Riddle, 105, Texas Confederate Home for Men, Austin.

Spends time playing dominoes with attendant, listening to war news on the radio or taking slow walks around the yard, using a cane. A private in the 12th Tennessee Infantry, Riddle fought under Lee at Gettysburg. Made an honorary Texas colonel 89 years later, along with state's two other surviving Confederate veterans. "People still argue about Gettysburg." Riddle says. "Some say as many as 2,000 were killed.

But I know how many were killed. Thirteen, that's all.I was there, and we buried" every one of them right there in the field." Walter W. Williams, 108, Franklin, Tex. Blind, almost totally deaf, rarely leaves front porch. Lives with 77-year-old second wife, Ella Mae, on isolated farm quarter of a mile away from nearest neighbors, in-' eluding some of their children.

What do they do when they need help in a hurry? "Why, I just blow the cow horn," Mrs. Williams says. "Did that last winter when Walter caught the flu. My son came right over." Foraged for Hood Mrs. Williams milks their two cows, tends the chickens and horses and does her own planting and gardening, and keeps up an orchard.

Williams served in Hood's cavalry brigade as forage master, or chief of food-scrounging department, in Mississippi. Death of first wife left him with seven children, three surviving. Second marriage in 1895 brought him 12 children, nine still alive. Joseph Haden "Uncle Hade" Whiteett, 103, Bonham, Tex. Blind, almost deaf, and bedfast.

Up till three years ago, enjoyed a noisy, knee-slapping round of checkers. Served 13 months in, Shelby's Escort, Missouri Cavalry, but never fired a shot. "Only thing that bothered me in the whole war," he used to say, "was the itch. The itch and the creepers. Did you ever see a body louse? Well, in those days we called them creepers." John Sailing, 104, Slant, Va.

Lives with daughter in mountain cabin. Teeth gone, but not sense of humor. Helps tend livestock. Daughter reports: "Course he still likes a pretty girl. You ought to see the shines he cuts when he sees one coming up the road.

When he gets a spoonful of likker in 'im, he's equal to a Holston preacher. He cantpreach a sermon then." Never Got Uniform Sailing never got a Confederate uniform; but when the boys in gray came through Scott County, he joined them for a year. His job was digging saltpeter -for gunpowder. Never got out of the state except for 75th Gettysburg anniversary. "Me and a coupla Yankees," he recalls, "set together and listened to President Roosevelt.

He didn't have nothin to start from much, but he said he was going to see a light put up there that would burn forever. "I set up close to one of them Yankee fellers, and I said, 'Now, ain't that a This here Yankee took a drink of likker and said, 'Well, he won't never do William D. Townsend, 105, OUa, La. Walks without cane, smokes battered pipe continuously. Ran away from home at 12, served with Confederates at Vicksburg, where he was slightly wounded.

Married his fourth wife 11 years ago. She's only 60 now. On longevity: "Anything I thought was fun, I was into it. I did a little drinking, but never got drunk enough to kill anybody or anything. Even played the horses some." John Greene Chisum, 103, Fort Smith, Ark.

Lives with wife in abandoned house at old C.C.C. camp. Joined General Price's troops near Newport, but memory of war is hazy. Suffered a stroke two years ago. Reports his outfit still had plenty of fight left when war ended.

"My Uncle Tom Chisum," he recalls, "killed three men with a board the day we surrendered." 'r William W. Loudermilk, 103, resident of Jonesoro, for 70 years. At 16, he says, -he joined Hood's cavalry as water boy. Promoted to sharpshooter, fought at Chat-tanqoga, Nashville, Marietta and near Atlanta. He never has been able to prove his serv-icerecord, although he covered 1,000 miles traveling through the South trying.

However, The Jonesboro Sun is satisfied he is a Confederate veteran. P. R. Crump. 103, Lincoln, Ala.

Lives with grandson. Joined Confederates late in war, 1 Recalls seeing Lee ride away to surrender to Grant at Appomattox in 1865. Sight and hearing now failing. Has been a deacon of the Refugee Baptist Church for 73 years. Since his eyes went bad, he's had to -miss his daily Bible reading.

Receives his for a to on a to in of William A. Magee Union, 104, California William W. Loudermilk Confederate, 103, Arkansas William A. Lundy Confederate, 1 03, Florida John Sailing Confederate, 104, Virginia John A. Marcum Confederate, 97, Arkansas (died Friday) in the modern circus.

After the Hartford, fire, when the wooden bleachers went up in flames, Art Concello designed a light steel-and-aluminum bleacher platform, which folds down on each side of the dressing-wagon below, and is hauled off in jig time, at the end of the show. With wages high and roustabouts has gone in for labor-saving. And with this has disappeared some' of the skill and glamour. The menagerie tent is no more. And the steady clink-clink of six 14-pound sledgehammers wielded by six men and never missing a stroke, each pushing a stake imo the ground, is no more.

Now the stakes are hammered into the ground with an impersonal, prosaic, unromantic piledriver run by a gasoline engine. The circus has its own electric-power plant today, with four miles of electric cable. Floodlights illuminate the entire ground as the. tent comes -down; and the days of gasoline torches, kerosene lanterns and groping for stakes and marlin spikes in the murky shadows are no more. Cspyright.

lKt (f 8saN 0 lMmgi'Mi" li" William J. Bush Confederate, 105, Georgia John C. Chisum Confederate, 103, Arkansas i Arnold Murray Confederate, 104, S. Carolina Douglas T. Story Union, 106, California Albert Woolson Union, 104, Minnesota Every trapeze performer has to wear a safety lunge.

That's a rope fastened on to your back see that one on the midget on horseback over there? It keeps him from falling. But it also takes away all the thrill. However, they're required by law in Russia." The scout said he had tried to hire a troupe of Russian acrobats who performed on camels. "A great act," he said, "but the would let them be paid only $200 a month. Imagine that! The balance of their salary was to be paid direct to the Soviet Government, making a profit of 3,000,000 rubles on the deal." Labor-Saving' Circus The dressing tent for performers is no more.

And while the unsuspecting audience is ogling at the performance, glamorous Veronica Martell, the Irish juggling marvel; Katherine th beautiful bareback fcider, arid all the others are dressing just beneath the audience in aluminum wagons. These aluminum dressing-wagons below the grandstand are th most radical change Ixitv if Thomas E. Riddle Confederate, 105, Texan William D. Townsend Confederate, 105, Louisiana P. R.

Crump Confederate, 103, Alabama George W. Keith Confederate, 102, Florida Walter W. Williams Confederate, 108, Texas WASHINGTON MERRY-G Fascinating as these people were, however, Doc Mann couldn't stay away from the animals. And I couldn't stay away from the newfangled gadgets that make putting up the Big Top a lot easier than when I wrestled with canvas many years ago. On the animal side, there was Martha Hunter with her two baby gorillas, Toto and Gargantua II.

"The little boy is only 2 years old, and already stronger than one of us," explained Miss Hunter, who is not exactly frail herself. "I've had the little' girl since she weighed 10 pounds. Now she's close to 80. "They're not dangerous just like children so far, Only it's risky to pick them up. They're not housebroken." Eugene Scott was harnessing up his elephants "144,000 pounds of alert, agile, mountainous masses of brawn and brain," as the circus barker says.

The girls who ride them into the ring were putting on their lipstick; and I couldn't help remembering one winter at Sarasota, f'Sft rfltJ m.i,.,,A"7x.. -J A I 1 i Tgg mt K. v4iZfi I 121 Israel Broadsword Union, 104, Idaho Joseph II, Whitsett Confederate 103, Texas James A. Hard Union, 109, New York Lansing A. Wilcox Union, 105, Wisconsin ROUND By Drew Pearson where, the circus winters, watching a rehearsal of an elephant dance.

The chorus girls who danced with them forgot their steps whereas the elephants never forgot. Furthermore, they were never late for rehearsal, never missed a show. There is one thing about elephants, though, which the Republican Party couldn't have known about when they adopted that stalwart animal as a symbol. The elephant will not work more than six hours a day. I have seen them on the tea plantations of Ceylon and in the lumber yards of Burma, pulling stumps, dragging disk harrows, piling lumber, even wrapping a steel chain around the lumber before they haul it across the yard to a new pile, and pushing their foreheads against the jutting, uneven ends of the lumber to even it up.

But when the elephant has worRe six hours, he quits. In 1937, one of Ringling's scouts made a tsip to Moscow to look over new acts. "But the Russians," he said, "have taken all the zest and verve out of the circus. I "lift I A 4 A Mi Xl It I x-y I (x- -O- I Pearson Looks Into The Circus, Finds Even It Has Changed WASHINGTON, 26. Dr.

William Mann, director of the Washington Zoo, can no more stay away from the circus than Harry Truman can stay out of politics. The other day, Doc Mann took Senator Tom Hennings, our wives, and me through the 67th anniversary performance of "The Greatest Show on Earth." Senator Hennings comes from Missouri the opposite end of the state from the Pendergast boys, but a state where, from any angle, they have to be shown. And Doc Mann was determined to show him. Doc Mann is also an officer of the Circus Fans of America, which celebrated its 25th anniversary last week end. And since Senator Matt Neely of West Virginia, one of the original charter members, couldn't be there, Senator Hennings came instead, and was' introduced to that perambulating pantomimic prankster, Otto Griebling, w.ho is also a St.

Louis boy; called on the wire-walking wonder, Hubert Steel, where he sat nonchalantly mending a jumping hoop in his dressing room, and said hello to the enchanting, ethereal Pinito del Oro just before she "rode tiptoe on a moonbeam.".