One Vacant Chair: Photographs of a Michigan family remind us of loss and sacrifice

By Paul Russinoff 

The lyrics from a touching song spoke to the grief suffered by hundreds of thousands of families during the Civil War: “We shall meet, but we shall miss him, there will be one vacant chair.” Originally a poem memorializing the death of Lt. John W. Grout of the 15th Massachusetts Infantry at the Battle of Balls Bluff, George Frederick Root set the words to music in 1862: “The Vacant Chair” quickly became a staple in parlors across America.

Photographs of the families left behind also capture the somber spirit of the song. Equal in importance to written communication, photography was a critical visual medium with the power to connect a soldier to his family far away.

Photographs in all formats—cartes de visite, tintypes, and ambrotypes—were regularly sent back and forth during the four years of conflict. This example, a matched pair of sixth plate ambrotypes, were arranged and taken for Sgt. William H. Black of the 5th Michigan Cavalry, who carried these portraits of his wife and children during his service.

He never came home.

These images reflect the absence of a beloved husband and father, and a heartbreaking loss for each of the five sitters. 

William’s life journey began in 1826 with his birth in Groveland, N.Y., a village about 45 miles south of Rochester. He was the eldest of three sons raised by Joseph Whitney Black, Sr., and Nancy Gardner.

In the 1840s, the family relocated to the Midwest, part a wave of Empire State immigrants surging into Ohio, Indiana and Michigan. In June 1849, William, now in his early twenties, married Abigail Mugg in Steuben County, Ind., adjacent to the Michigan border. Two years William’s junior, Abigail had been born in Yates County, N.Y., not far from the Black family. The Muggs were part of the same westward migration as the Blacks.

William and Abigail built a life together. In 1850, they lived in Jackson, Ind., where William worked as a carpenter and joiner. By the end of the decade, the couple had moved a few miles north to Kinderhook, Mich., named after the New York birthplace of former President Martin Van Buren. William worked a modest farm and served as one of the town’s constables.

Along the way, William and Abigail brought three children into the world: Thomas, Ida, and Sarah “May.” A fourth, William F., was born in December 1861.

Meanwhile, the nation had plunged into civil war. By the summer of 1862 the full, awful nature of America’s conflict was apparent to all. Union victories were few and far between, and the numbers of fathers, husbands, brothers, friends, and lovers who would never return home grew in shocking leaps. The Peninsula Campaign that began in the spring with cries of “On to Richmond” and ended in July with the bloody battles of the Seven Days and a humiliating retreat from the outskirts of the Confederate capital.

Numerous theories were offered to explain the dismal performance of Maj. Gen. George McClellan and his Army of the Potomac. One of them was a lack of cavalry regiments to reconnoiter the enemy and screen the army’s movements. Proponents of this theory included Michigan’s powerful and well-connected Republican congressman, Francis William Kellogg. He played a key role in the organization of Michigan’s three cavalry regiments already in the field.

Kellogg stepped up again after President Abraham Lincoln called for 300,000 fresh troops to replenish the army’s depleted ranks and drove the formation of three new cavalry regiments (the 5th, 6th and 7th) in response to Lincoln’s request.

1862-1863: Birth of the Michigan Cavalry Brigade

William was not an ideal candidate for a soldier in 1862. Now 36, with a wife, three small children and an infant, he might have made a case that his age and family responsibilities should keep him at home instead of in the ranks. Even with the promise of a $100 bounty, one can imagine the decision to enlist was difficult, particularly for Abigail.

Yet, on August 15 in Kinderhook, William signed his name to an enlistment document and joined Copeland’s Mounted Rifles, a new regiment organized by Capt. William D. Mann and Lt. Col. Joseph T. Copeland, both veteran officers of the 1st Michigan Cavalry. William provided his own horse and equipment.

Copeland’s Mounted Rifles became the 5th Michigan Cavalry, the second of the four regiments composing the Michigan Cavalry Brigade. Organizing officers assigned William to Company M. Its commander, Capt. Frederick Copeland, had previously served as a first lieutenant in the 1st and was not directly related to Lt. Col. Copeland. The new troopers spent the next few months learning how to be cavalrymen in Detroit, where they developed skill sets that would make them formidable opponents on the battlefield. William earned his corporal’s chevrons — a sign that military life agreed with him. Abigail and her children may have visited during this time.

On December 4, the regiment departed Detroit 1,144 strong. It was not, however, fully equipped leaving without promised Spencer rifles, one of the most technologically advanced weapons the government could put in the hands of a soldier. The breach loading Spencer fired 20 rounds per minute versus two or three with a traditional muzzle loading rifle.

The regiment arrived in Washington, D.C., in time to witness the aftermath of the Union’s singular defeat at Fredericksburg. William and his comrades complemented their training with a sobering dose of reality as they watched wounded and dying men stream into hospitals.

The 5th moved into winter quarters and passed some time being tourists. The rank and file made side trips to tour the Capitol, and the officers of the 5th and 6th visited the White House by invitation from Congressman Kellogg. James H. Kidd, a captain in the 6th who wrote the definitive history of the Michigan Cavalry Brigade, recorded a weary and bemused President Lincoln, who replied to Kellogg’s proud, albeit prophetic, boast that the “Wolverines” would track and capture JEB Stuart, by saying “It would give me much greater pleasure to see JEB Stuart in captivity than it has given me to see you.”

In late January 1863, the 5th got its first chance to track and capture another Confederate—Col. John Singleton Mosby. The Michiganders, eager to take the field, embarked on exhausting and fruitless expeditions and scouts in the teeth of gruesome weather, but failed to capture the elusive raider. To make matters worse, Col. Copeland had been bumped up to brigade command. The officer promoted to fill his place, Freeman Norvell, an alcoholic, became inebriated on the first foray and resigned.

Leadership problems likewise plagued the top ranks of the Army of the Potomac. Ambrose E. Burnside, the general in command at Fredericksburg, had been replaced by Maj. Gen. Joseph Hooker, who came out on the losing side of the Battle of Chancellorsville in May.

The 5th spent the spring chasing gray shadows in Virginia’s Loudoun Valley, causing them to miss Chancellorsville and the critical cavalry engagement at Brandy Station in early June.

William and his comrades received a bit of good news about this time when Russell A. Alger, formerly lieutenant colonel of the 6th, became their colonel. A popular choice with men and officers, he had proven an able commander in previous assignments.

A shakeup at the top of the command chain resulted in one more notable change that directly affected the Michigan men. On June 28, as the Army of the Potomac marched in full pursuit of Robert E. Lee’s Confederates, Joseph Hooker resigned and George G. Meade accepted command of the Army of Potomac. Meade immediately changed cavalry commanders, handing the reigns to Alfred Pleasanton, who in turn anointed H. Judson Kilpatrick as a division commander. Command of the Michigan Cavalry Brigade went to one of the state’s adopted sons, George Armstrong Custer. The aggressive West Pointer would soon be known as the “Boy General of the Golden Locks.” He replaced Col. Copeland, who left embittered.

William and the rest of the Wolverines, well-trained and now led by a new group of commanders, were ready for whatever might come their way.

Summer 1863: The wolf pack on the prowl

The 5th experienced its first significant combat, and glimpsed its new brigade commander, on June 30, 1863, at the Battle of Hanover, about 15 miles east of Gettysburg. Custer arrived on the scene dressed in a theatrical velvet uniform with golden braid, a sailor’s collar, and a brilliant red necktie. His initial appearance, James Kidd confessed “amazed, if it did not for the moment amuse me.”

In fact, Custer used the costume-like uniform as a tool to communicate his presence on a large scale to his soldiers. He also came prepared to exercise real combat leadership at the head of his brigade.

It worked.

At Hanover, Custer’s brigade successfully challenged the perception of the invincible Confederate horseman. The 5th formed part of the rearguard and fought dismounted with its Spencer rifles. The men and officers, including William, repelled and then counterattacked JEB Stuart’s troopers as they attempted to loop around the Union position, ultimately driving them from Hanover. Less than 24 hours later and a dozen miles northwest at Hunterstown, Custer and Kilpatrick clashed again with Stuart. The skirmish ended with a more even result as the Union troopers left the field but slowed the movement of Confederate troops. Custer sustained a fall from his horse during the action.

The forces of Custer and Stuart met again on July 3rd.  As one part of a pincer movement, Stuart had the Confederates making a wide swing around the right flank of the Union army to attack it in the center, from the rear.  At the same time, Lee’s soldiers under Pickett would pressure the blue lines in their front. But Custer’s Brigade stood in the way of that wide swing. Here, William and the 5th, again fighting dismounted under the direction of Col. Alger, encountered Stuart’s cavalry on an eminence known as Cress Ridge. Alger’s boys held their own until a Confederate charge pushed them back.

At this point, velvet-clad Custer leapt in and led the 7th Michigan Cavalry on a counterattack and kept the pressure on retreating rebels until a fence broke the momentum. Custer then rallied the veteran 1st Michigan Cavalry in a countercharge, famously yelling “Come on you Wolverines!” They did, and in the violent collision that followed, the Wolverines scattered the gray horsemen—disrupting Lee’s grand plan of a cavalry counterpunch to Pickett’s Charge.

Alger described this fight as “the most gallant charge of the war.”

William emerged unscathed, but the Michigan Brigade suffered the loss of 219 of the 654 troopers engaged.

Though reduced in strength by a third, the cavalrymen had plenty of fight left in them. They showed it over the next 13 days in pursuit of Lee’s retreating forces, hoping to bring on an engagement that fulfilled Lincoln’s objective of finishing off the Army of Northern Virginia.

Velvet-clad Custer leapt in and led the 7th Michigan Cavalry on a counterattack and kept the pressure on retreating rebels until a fence broke the momentum. Custer then rallied the veteran 1st Michigan Cavalry in a countercharge, famously yelling “Come on you Wolverines!” They did, and in the violent collision that followed, the Wolverines scattered the gray horsemen—disrupting Lee’s grand plan of a cavalry counterpunch to Pickett’s Charge.

Like a wolf pack trailing a wounded but still formidable animal, the horsemen struck the rebel rear guard until forced back by enemy reinforcements. Then, they struck again at the next favorable opportunity.

The first of these encounters occurred on July 4 at Monterey Pass, Pa., where Col. Alger and the 5th dismounted and led a nighttime attack that ended with the destruction of 100 wagons from Lee’s train and the capture of 1,400 Confederates. Custer went with them, falling from his horse for the third time in the campaign.

The encounters continued on July 6 at Williamsport, Md., July 7 at Funkstown, and again at Williamsport on July 14. Galloping into Williamsport, the 5th drove a few remaining stragglers into the Potomac River, where they franticly swam for the safety of the Virginia shore.

This ended the Gettysburg Campaign.

Late 1863: Recover, refit and return to action

William and his comrades participated in one more engagement in July, a skirmish with Confederate infantry at Newby’s Crossroads, Va., before being recalled to rest and reequip. Detailed to the task of consigning worn out horses to the remount camp, William and other select troopers rode to Washington in September, coming back with fresh mounts for the regiment.

In early October, the rejuvenated Brigade returned to the field for a fall campaign in Northern Virginia. It did not go well. On October 11 near the site of the Brandy Station battlefield, the Brigade got caught in a dangerous vise of a superior number of Confederate cavalry. As the jaws closed in, Custer and his Wolverines charged several times before breaking the grip. Custer lost two more horses here.

A few days later at Buckland Mills, the Brigade rode into a dismounted force of JEB Stuart’s boys and suffered a stinging defeat. The rapid retreat by the Brigade cost it a wagon train including Custer’s own camp equipment and personal correspondence. It also cost the Brigade a measure of pride as victorious Confederates dubbed Custer’s skedaddle the “Buckland Races.”

The Brigade returned to Washington in need of another round of remounts and new equipment. The loss of manpower—the Brigade lost 214 men in the recent campaign—resulted in promotions for some. In November, William added a stripe to his chevrons as he advanced to 8th sergeant in his company.

The Brigade settled into camp at Stevensburg, Va., for the winter. Fresh recruits replenished the ranks, and new Spencer carbines were handed out.

Back home in Michigan, it may have been about this time that Abigail gathered her children and set off for a photograph gallery in nearby Coldwater, or Angola, Ind., to sit for a portrait to send to William.

May 1864: Making good on Kellogg’s boast

On May 1, 1864, the Brigade participated in a grand review for its boy general. Three days later they broke camp and rode south for the spring 1864 campaign. They did so under the banner of a new overall cavalry commander, Maj. Gen. Phillip H. Sheridan. “Little Phil” had his own history with Michigan Cavalry, commanding the 2nd for a period in 1862. Sheridan had been brought in by Lt. Gen. Ulysses S. Grant, who now commanded all the Union armies and attached himself and his staff to Meade’s Army of the Potomac.

Grant’s determination and Sheridan’s unbridled aggressiveness whipped Meade’s army—and Custer’s Brigade—into a frenzy of activity. On May 6, the Brigade clashed with one of Stuart’s favorite brigadiers, Thomas L. Rosser. On May 9, the wolf pack rode off on a raid deep into enemy territory, seeking to overtake and destroy JEB Stuart’s command. The mission was the brainchild of Sheridan and had Grant’s backing.

Along the way, the aggressive Wolverines gobbled up Confederate troops, destroyed railroad supply trains, torched Beaver Dam Station, and liberated 400 Union prisoners captured in the Battle of The Wilderness.

On May 11, the Brigade joined other Union cavalry to make good on the boast made by Congressman Kellogg to President Lincoln back in 1862. The fateful engagement unfolded near Yellow Tavern, a rundown public house a few miles north of Richmond. After several hours of initial fighting, Sheridan ordered Custer’s Brigade forward. The wolf pack, with Custer in the lead, tore into Stuart’s men. As the momentum built towards a climax, Custer ordered the 5th forward. Colonel Alger, William, and the rest of the regiment did their part to win the day and kill Stuart. While a number of regiments claimed the soldier who fired the fatal shot that ended Stuart’s life, most modern historians agree it was likely a private in Company F of the 5th: John A. Huff, who did the deed with his Colt revolver.   

Flush with success, the Union troopers tended to their dead and wounded and spent another day in Confederate territory. Then the cavalrymen rode off and returned to the safety of federal lines by way of Bottoms Bridge.

The killing continued as the Army of the Potomac pressed on relentlessly towards Richmond. The Wolverines did their part to contribute to the Union advance. On May 27, they mixed it up with Confederate cavalry and infantry at Haw’s Shop. On May 31, they supported Union infantry that captured Confederate constructed defenses at Cold Harbor. These defenses then became the settled lines of the Union army during the horrifically violent battle that ensued.

June 1864: A station too far

Grant dispatched Sheridan on a new raid to disrupt Confederate operations along the Virginia Central Railroad near Trevilian Station. The mission had two primary goals: Cripple the supply chain between Lee’s army and the Confederate capitol, and draw off Confederate cavalry commanded by Maj. Gen. Wade Hampton. Grant hoped Sheridan’s troopers would continue to ride west and link up with the army of Maj. Gen. David Hunter in the Shenandoah Valley.

Sheridan’s raiders closed in on Trevilian Station by June 10 and discovered Hampton’s horsemen between them and the railroad. The next day, the opposing commands slugged it out with no clear winner.

Custer’s Brigade did not initially engage. But as the combat unfolded, he brought his men by a well-sheltered trail into position behind the Confederate defenders. At this point scouts from the 5th spied an enemy wagon train ripe for capture. Custer ordered Col. Alger to pursue the train and the balance of his command to engage the Confederates.

Nothing went according to plan. Instead of pressing Hampton’s forces, the Wolverines were themselves surrounded by other Confederate cavalry regiments. The 5th was now cut off from the rest of its Brigade, which was in turn cut off from Sheridan’s many body of troopers. For hours Custer’s embattled Wolverines shifted men and artillery from one hard pressed sector to another along slowly compressing lines. To add to their woes, the wagon train that had caught Custer’s attention made it safely inside Confederate lines.

The rescue of the beleaguered Michiganders fell to the brigades of generals Wesley Merritt and Thomas Devin, who punched through the Confederate lines surrounding Custer and opened up an escape route.

Custer’s brigade suffered severely. The casualty list topped 700, and Custer lost his personal baggage for the second time. William emerged uninjured, but lost his horse and equipment. He and other survivors in similar straits returned to the dismounted camp in Washington to secure new mounts and tack.

July 1864: Death deprives a family of a husband and father

For the second time in a year, William was back at the remount camp. But this time his health rapidly deteriorated. Suffering from diarrhea, he gained admission to Mt. Pleasant Hospital on June 21. Abigail received word of her husband’s condition and hurried to his bedside. Her father, Thomas Mugg, accompanied her.

William was fortunate in having family with him—hundreds of thousands of soldiers suffered sickness and wounds without a loved one nearby. Abigail’s presence must have uplifted his spirits, but did not spare his life. He succumbed on July 2 at 5:30 p.m. He was about 38.

Whether Abigail was with William during his final moments is not known. However, she and her father did sign a document inventorying his few effects. The photographs pictured here were not listed. It may be assumed Abigail carried them back to Michigan.

She did not bring William’s body home. His remains were interred in Arlington Cemetery on July 5—two months after the burial of the first soldier on Lee’s land and two weeks before the government designated 200 acres of the property as a military cemetery.

Why Abigail had William buried in Arlington is unknown. She may have had limited means and could not pay transportation fees, or perhaps decided to honor his service by interring him with his comrades.

One month later Abigail applied for a widow’s pension on behalf of herself and her four minor children. The government approved, and it provided her with some financial support.

In October 1866, Abigail wed Peter Johns, a local farmer and a widower with four children of his own. The marriage suspended her pension payments, though the children she conceived with William continued to receive payments until their eighteenth birthdays. When Peter Johns died, Abigail rejoined the pension rolls until her death of “general dropsy” in 1910. She was 82. Her remains rest in Knauss Cemetery in Kinderhook, Mich.

The children survived to adulthood.

The eldest, Thomas, pictured here holding a regulation cap with the designation of his father’s company and regiment and dressed in a musician’s coat and what appears to be regulation mounted trousers, followed in his father’s footsteps and became a farmer in Kinderhook. He married Ella Bower in 1875 and produced two children. Thomas died in 1924.

Ida, standing to Thomas’ right, grew up and married Henry Relyea, a local farmer. They settled in Coldwater, Mich., and had two children before Ida passed away in 1881. She is also buried in Kinderhook.

Sara May, standing to Thomas’ left, married Milton Root in 1882. The couple had two sons and made their home in Steuben County, Ind., where she was buried after passing in 1921.

William F., cradled in Abigail’s arms, had no memory of his father. He repaired jewelry and watches for a living, married Jennie M. Carrithers, and, like his siblings, stayed relatively close to home. He died of natural causes in 1941 and is buried in Quincy, Mich. He left no children.

The portraits of Abigail and her children stand as a visual record of a mother and children. The photographs are also representative of how the relatively new medium of photography connected soldiers to families left behind when they went off to fight. These particular images become even more powerful, and can stir our emotions. When we look into the eyes of Abigail, Thomas, Ida, Sara May, and William F., we do so with the certain knowledge that our Civil War deprived them of a husband and father.  William Black was one of the hundreds of thousands who gave their life to preserve our Union. His loss represents a chair, forever empty.

References: Barnard, An Aide to Custer: The Civil Was Letters of Lt. Edward G. Granger; Kidd, Personal Recollections of Cavalryman with Custer’s Michigan Cavalry Brigade in the Civil War; Longacre, Custer and His Wolverines; The Michigan Cavalry Brigade 1861-1865; Robertson, Michigan in the War; Stiles, T.J. Custer’s Trials; William S. Black military service records, National Archives; Ancestry.com.

Paul Russinoff of Baltimore, Md., has been a passionate collector and researcher of photographs from the Civil War since elementary school. A subscriber to MI since its inception, representative images from his collection appeared in the Autumn 2014 issue. He is a senior editor of MI.

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