“No More of War.” On a recent speaking trip about Embattled Freedom, I carved out some time to visit the old newspapers at the Scranton public library. Always on the hunt for new nuggets and undiscovered information, I came upon a microfilm roll of the weekly Scranton Register from spring of 1865. Two minutes in and its pages were yielding memorable items. The issue of April 27–two weeks after Lee’s surrender at Appomattox–featured a moving poem titled “No More of War.” Written by a “Stella of Lackawanna,” its seven stanzas ache with melancholy:

Sing not for me those mournful songs

    That tell a nation bowed in tears;

My soul is wearied with the wrongs

    Of these last restless years.


The winds that in the woods make moan–

    The waves that murmur to the sun–

Speak all too well, with burdened tone,

    Of victories, lost or won.


And down the vale where fallen men,

    Throb out a brave life’s parting breath,

A flash of gleaming steel–and then,

    The fearful wail of death.


Rachels are weeping everywhere,

    All the dull night their sobbings fall;

One dirge of mourning floods the air–

    I’m weary of it all.


Let me forget that enemies fling

    Black shadows o’er my country’s light,

But rather listen while you sing,

    Of something else to night.


Trill those old familiar lays,

    That, in the twilight, you and I

Once loved so well, in other days–

    Sweet other days gone by.


When only on historic page

    The victor and the vanquished met,

And freedom’s holy heritage

    All pure and stainless yet.

This woman’s pen channeled the anguish of thousands on the home front. I’d never heard of Stella of Lackawanna, but if I’d lived in the Scranton area back then, I would have. She was Harriet Gertrude Watres, mother of a Lackawanna Valley bigwig who was the namesake of Scranton’s cavernous old Watres Armory. I was stunned to see that she also was the sister of Horace Hollister, who is featured in my book for his late-life regrets about racism (as told on Page 188).  From 1850 until her death in 1886, Harriet Watres penned dozens of poems that ran in the local press. She was a Lincoln loyalist so I found it surprising that her “No More of War” elegy appeared in the Lincoln-hating Register. Turns out she had submitted it to a Republican paper and  the Register reprinted it–apparently finding that its sentiments transcended politics.

“Information Wanted.” That was the simple heading on a notice published in the Scranton Register two weeks later, on May 11, 1865. And it captured the quiet anguish of the day in a different, non-poetic way. It read: “Owen Phillips of Clifford, Susquehanna County, Pa., Color Sgt. of Co. B, 143d Pa. Regiment, was wounded and missing in the Battle of the Wilderness. Any one knowing his present whereabouts will confer a great favor by giving information to his father, Nelson Phillips, at Clifford, Susquehanna County, Pa.” I’d read about newspapers running notices from freed or emancipated black people seeking loved ones lost or sold away–but not about ones from the worried families of soldiers missing in action. Turns out there was no system to notify next of kin back then, and families might learn only from letters from other soldiers or casualty lists posted at a local train station. The Phillips family had been in the dark for an entire year. How long would it be until they learned? Their Owen, 29, a laborer and husband, had died the previous May 9, 1864, mortally wounded by a sharpshooter during the Battle of the Wilderness. He would be remembered as a hero who enlisted early and, at Gettysburg, had rescued the 143rd’s battle flag while under fierce fire. For that act he was promoted to color sergeant. Back in Clifford, his parents could take pride when the town’s veterans named their war veterans post after him.

Book News. After making 25 appearances in support of Embattled Freedom, I’m on a hiatus until late January, at which point I’lI launch into a string of 13 more author talks. Meanwhile, let me make two requests. If you know of any groups that might be interested in a presentation–civic groups, churches, clubs, schools, historical societies–please reach out to them, or let me know and I’ll make the contact. Also, if you’ve read Embattled Freedom and are willing to dash off a reader review on amazon.com, please consider taking a minute to do that. In this age of algorithms, your feedback helps to lift a book’s visibility.

And to all, happy holidays!