This diary is part of a series written by multiple diarists taking part in the "Liveblogging the Civil War" project. From the introductory diary:
Now, here is our opportunity to act as kind of virtual re-enactors. We can discuss the issues, the battles, the news, as though it were happening right now and we were living through it. I think this could be a very fun way to explore our history and perhaps make it that much more accessible and realistic to us all. I suppose it would also make it the one little part of Daily Kos that's supporting our Republican president and opposing the Rebels and the Copperheads.
This and subsequent dispatches by this diarist are from Oba Mason, a resident of Ocala, Florida, and will relate his experiences as a transplanted Wisconsin native and self-professed "Union Man" living in the secessionist south.
Although Florida was the third state to secede from the Union, and played an important role in supplying the Confederacy with goods and soldiers, it was somewhat unique in that the Union held some ground in the state throughout the war. Thanks to quick thinking (and a decision not to wait for orders) on the part of its commander, Fort Zachary Taylor and the island of Key West it guarded remained in Union hands throughout the war, and the cities of Jacksonville, Fernandina and St. Augustine were captured by the Union early in 1862 and likewise remained Union-controlled cities for the remainder of the war. The Union also controlled the northern St. John's River from March 1862 onward, resulting in the wedge of land from the east bank of the St. John's to Florida's east coast becoming a haven for Union sympathizers, runaway slaves, and Confederate deserters.
Oba Mason's liveblog begins after the jump.
Sunday, April 21, 1861
Let me say at the outset that I love my adopted home of Ocala, Florida, in the heart of the state's big scrub country.
There is fresh air and abundant sunshine; a multitude of large artesian springs nearby whose cold, clear waters are most refreshing to swim in on the oppressively hot, humid days which are routine of the summer here; an incredible amount of game - deer, bear, panther, raccoons, huge fox squirrels - in the dense forests of pine, oak and palmetto surrounding our town; and an abundance of large fish in the many rivers and lakes of the region, which I have found in my leisure time to be excellent sport to catch, though one must take care when doing so not to rouse the ire of gigantic alligators, fantastical relics from the age of dinosaurs, which inhabit all bodies of water, large and small, in these parts.
I feel blessed that my late father, a former soldier in the United States Army who served here during the Seminole Wars, fell in love with this corner of the southland and decided 15 years ago to summon his family from my cold, grey birthplace of Juneau Town, Wisconsin to settle here. It is a place touched more by God than by man, and I feel much at home here.
But this place has lately become afflicted by the sickness of secession, and the fever of impending war. We are barely a state, brought into the Union just 16 years ago, and now we have withdrawn from that Union. And the leaders of my town, many of whom are transplanted South Carolinians, were instrumental in our separation from the north.
November last, a group of community leaders caused to be erected on the town square outside our new courthouse, a flag staff from which they began flying a flag of white with a lone blue star, underneath which were sewn the words "Let Us Alone." I have also for some months seen, in addition to secession banners, replicas of the Revolutionary War "Gadsden Flag," the yellow banner bearing an image of a coiled snake and the legend "Don't Tread on Me" displayed on several homes and even businesses in the town.
The blue star flag first flew on the occasion of a meeting of those same community leaders, during which a letter was drafted calling upon Governor Madison Perry and the state assembly to call a convention for the purposes of discussing and voting upon secession from the Union.
The letter, published in the Marion Star newspaper, warned of:
"...the sure and rapid growth of in the Northern States of a political party hostile to the Southern States and its long course of determined, unconstitutional aggression..."
From that premise, the letter resolved:
We, the citizens of Marion County, ignoring all party names and past issues, do earnestly recommend to the General Assembly of Florida now in session, immediately to enact a law providing for a meeting at an early date of a Convention of Delegates from several counties of the State, to take into consideration the expediency of dissolving our connection with the Federal Union.
The letter was drafted November the 26th of last year, and dispatched to Tallahassee immediately. It was read to the assembly by a Dr. Daniel A. Vogt of our county on the 1st of December. The requested Convention was indeed held, and its delegates voted by a strength of 62 for and 7 against to secede. Florida formally left our Union on the 10th of this January last.
One brave, lone voice spoke against secession in that Convention, a man my father once met and greatly admired, Richard Keith Call, the territorial governor who guided Florida toward statehood in the early 1840s. Gov. Call's words struck a chord with me, for they express completely my own thoughts, and I fear he will be proved a skilled prophet:
"You have opened the gates of hell, from which shall flow the curses of the damned which shall sink you to perdition."
But now the deed is done, more states have left the Union, and with the attack on Fort Sumter last week, it appears we are to go to war with our brothers in the North.
Ocala has no telegraph, and the closest railroad line is in Gainesville, a hard day's ride to our north. We only learned of the attack on Fort Sumter this Sunday last, when a negro rider arrived with the news (my Northern friends may think it strange word was delivered by a man of color - I would note here that it is not unusual for plantation men to send their most trusted slaves as messengers to the homes of friends in other towns and counties).
The town has been in a state of perpetual celebration since. Within hours of the news arriving, a crowd had gathered on the square downtown. A brass band commenced playing marshal music, and the mood was undeniably a happy one. Students at the seminary school here in town, along with all their professors, speak eagerly of enlisting. A rifle company is apparently being organized, and there is talk of contributing cavalry and artillery units to the Confederacy as well.
I find it depressing to long contemplate what is happening to my state, and my mood was darkened further by the arrival Friday last of a letter from my sister, a librarian in the ancient Spanish city of St. Augustine, to wit:
My dearest brother,
I trust you have by now heard the news of the secessionists' attack on Fort Sumter in Charleston. I fear we have set irrevocably on a course for war, and I am becoming more fearful by the day.
You no doubt remember my telling you of the editorial in The Examiner last November which opined that those openly advocating for the Union might, in the near future, be rightly accused of treason and face the gallows. Although that day has not yet come, I fear it may soon be at hand, as I detect among the secessionists here a much higher level of antagonism towards those known to have pro-Union views.
I find myself wondering if I can get passage north, though I doubt that will be possible now that open hostilities have broken out. Is the situation more stable in Ocala? Should I come there? I anxiously await your reply.
Of course, the situation in Ocala is no more stable than that on the coast, and while I have heard no talk of treason or hanging, I have noticed furtive glances directed at me by those who know of my abolitionist views, and business at the small shop built by my father, which I have taken upon myself to run since my parents died, has fallen off.
Thus, rather than write back to my sister with advice - which quite frankly I am at a loss to give - I decided as I sat awake into the early hours of Saturday morning, to put my affairs in order and depart for St. Augustine to offer her what little protection I may be able to provide. So it was that on Saturday morning, I sought out my helper James, one of the few free negroes living in Ocala, and instructed him to take over operation of the store in my absence, to keep it open for as long as there are patrons, and to avail himself to whatever of its stock he might need while I am gone, as long as he keeps an accounting of it, which I am certain he will do as he has proven a trustworthy man. I have also granted James use of my rooms above the store, so that he will need go out among the secesh as little as possible. As a free negro during these times, he draws more ire than even do I.
I attended services early this morning, then set out immediately on the road which offers the most direct route to the coast. I write this in my room in Orange Springs, the first overnight stop on what should be a three-day horseback ride to St. Augustine. Normally at this time of year, the hotels here would be filled with tourists from the north, but this year the place is deserted and the innkeepers are justifiably concerned, though it has not dampened their enthusiasm for the cause of the South.
I had hoped to see my brother, who lives in this town, but it was not to be. He works one of pole barges of McGahagin & McMillan's shipping company, and left 10 days ago with a cargo of cotton bales and sugar and cane syrup hogsheads bound for Palatka. He will not return for another 15 to 20 days. Palatka is my next stop, so perhaps I can find him there before he begins his return journey. He has been much influenced by the pastor of his church, a Georgia man and passionate secessionist, and I fear he will get it into his head to go off and fight for the Confederacy.
Fane MacCarthy's cotton gin here - the largest in the state, I am told - is being converted into a foundry for the casting of cannon barrels. No matter where I go in this wretched state, it seems I will not be able to escape the madness. It amazes me how ordinary men, who themselves do not hold slaves, would so easily agree to do the bidding of the rich, slave-owning plantation men.
I hope to deliver more dispatches as events warrant. For now, I hear the call to dinner. Life, I suppose, goes on as normal in some respects. I remain, for now, your humble servant.
Oba M.
Ocala, FL