The Tigerish Glare: part one

Sweat beaded across the brows of the Third Missouri Volunteers as they marched the mile and a half from Dunn Loring Station to Camp Alger, Virginia in late May of 1898. Sherman Sayles, newly enlisted private, was older than most of his mates, but no less determined to become a military man. He, along with the rest of his regiment, felt his blood boil with patriotic fervor and determination to drive the Spanish out of Cuba, all the way back to Spain.

The Third Missouri presented as a ragtag bunch, civilians wearing civilian day wear with perhaps a cap or shirt to indicate a military unit. Once the companies arrived at the site of Camp Alger they set to work. With regiments from across the United States, they transformed overgrown fields and dense forest into a town of tents and drill fields. Once Sherman and his mates constructed the essential buildings–kitchens, mess tents, headquarters, hospital, latrines, sleeping quarters–endurance and discipline training became decidedly military. Packs shouldered, the men were ordered to march for miles out from camp, take a quick break, and march back. Medics would haul men back to camp if they succumbed to the heat or fatigue. Eventually weapons drills were added to their daily routine, and sham battles became regular occurrences.

Though there was water for cooking and a bit of washing up, sources in the immediate camp were not sufficient to support bathing of the 26,000 men that assembled on those grounds. So regiments rotated drill marches with a 7 mile march to the Potomac River, for a bit of hygienic R and R.

The record doesn’t indicate just when Sherman Sayles suffered a head injury in that first month. He could have been struck by a falling tree as land was cleared. Or he could have fallen while fooling around or bathing in the Potomac River. Or been hit in the head through some flukey accident during a drill.

But by the middle of June Sherman Sayles occupied a cot in the camp’s Second Division Hospital, restless, agitated, frequently suffering from acute headaches. Private James Lake, medical attendant for Sayles’ ward, was on hand the night of June 29.

At around 10:00 pm that summer evening, Sherman complained of a headache to the night nurse, who notified Lake. While Private Lake went to the dispensary to mix some morphine, Private Sayles pulled out a penknife and sliced open his left wrist. Fellows in nearby cots yelled, and someone ran to retrieve Private Lake. By the time Lake and the attending surgeon, Major Stunkard, got cot-side, Sherman had lost a great deal of blood.

The wound was tended, and by morning Major Stunkard pronounced the soldier out of danger, physically. A note found during the night’s commotion gave the doctor pause.

“I would rather die by Spanish bullets than like this. Those who have falsely sworn my life away shall reap the most of it in the Judgement Day.” 

Clearly Sherman Sayles needed further care, care that tended to his mental health as well as his physical well being. Stunkard transferred the soldier to the hospital at Fort Myers (Virginia) where further evaluation determined that Sayles required intensive therapy.

As quickly as orders could trickle through bureaucracy Sherman was transferred across the Potomac to the Government Asylum for the Insane, locally known as St. Elizabeths Hospital, in southeast Washington, D.C.  The hospital was built on land overlooking the Anacostia River, giving patients, employees, and visitors alike stunning views of the District and Alexandria. Superintendent William Godding had been in charge of the facility for decades developing its national reputation for the respectful, cutting-edge treatment of the District’s indigent insane and the military’s mentally ill soldiers and sailors. 

On July 5th, 1898 Sherman Sayles walked across the campus of St. Elizabeths under the shade of red oaks, silver maples and tulip trees, past vegetable and ornamental gardens, and chicken houses and pigeon coops. He climbed up the steps of a three-story brick building, crossed its white-trimmed porch and entered Oak Hall. A nurse guided the 36-year-old to a large room brightly lit by enormous windows. Beds lined the walls, each with its own privacy screen. From this crowded ward Sherman Sayles, my great-granduncle, would begin his treatment for acute suicidal melancholia.

To be continued…


Camp Alger: Anderson, Eric. “Camp Russell A. Alger, Falls Church, Virginia.” On Point, vol. 19, no. 4, 2014, pp. 44–48. JSTORhttp://www.jstor.org/stable/26364238. Accessed 24 Jan. 2020.

Private James Lake: “Camp Life by James Lake,” The Bedford Weekly Mail (Bedford, Indiana), 08 July 1898, p. 4; digitally accessed from Newspaper.com (https://www.newspaper.com), 2020.

St. Elizabeths Hospital: “The Records of St. Elizabeths Hospital at the National Archives,” Frances M. McMillen and James S. Kane, Prologue Magazine, Institutional Memory, Summer 2010, Vol. 42, No. 2; digitally accessed at the National Archives (https://www.archives.gov/publications/prologue/2010/summer/institutional.html), 12 Feb 2021.

Sherman Sayles: Christopher Sherman Sayles, QO1-563669951, St. Elizabeths Hospital (Washington, D.C.) patient record, Case number 10778, created 1898-1903; copy from National Archives and Records Administration, Washington, D.C., received February 2020.

On This Date: 28 February 1883

On this date, 28 February 1883, my great-grandmother Kathryn Elizabeth Roahrig was born in Linton Township, Ohio.

Her son, Carlos, was interviewed by the Coshocton Tribune (Coshocton, OH) the summer of 1985 and gave these details about her life.

Kathryn Elizabeth Roahrig Bradford, 102, of South Seventh Street, was the oldest resident found by the committee.

Coshocton Tribune, 26 July 1985

History contest winners named

Coshocton County’s oldest native resident and longest held parcel of land have been named by the Coshocton County History Book Committee.

Kathryn Elizabeth Roahrig Bradford, 102, of South Seventh Street, was the oldest resident found by the committee… Mrs. Bradford was born Feb. 28, 1883, in Linton Township, the daughter of John and Matilda (Klein) Roahrig. On Oct. 16, 1904, she married the late Charles Ross Bradford.

She had three children: Thelma, wife of H. Paul Joseph, is deceased; Kerma, widow of Donald Minor and of Albert Hoge; and Carlos. She has seven grandchildren, 23 great-grandchildren and 3 great-great-grandchildren.

She resides with Carlos and his wife Betty on South Seventh Street in Coshocton.

She has always lived in town and is a member of Grace United Methodist Church. She worked for a short period of time, when her children were small, at the Old Glove Factory.

Bradford is not in good health and was unable to be interviewed; however, her son’s reply, when asked to what he attributes his mother’s longevity was, “It runs in the family.”


History contest winners named, Coshocton Tribune (Coshocton, OH), 26 July 1985; newspaper clipping a part of D Kay Strickland Family Collection, 2021.

Recipes and receipts: A 1970(ish) Texas Sheet of Chocolate Deliciousness

Our dinner table in southwest Virginia was always full. Mother and Daddy at either end, us four kids seated two across from two on each side. In the center, sat two vegetables, a starch, a meat dish or casserole, to be passed to the left until all were served. At each place was a glass of milk and a small bowl of canned fruit, preferably fruit cocktail with maraschino cherries which had to be equitably divided among the four of us.

The highlight of every meal, though, was dessert. My mother was a terrific cook; her baked goods, however, were whole-other-level fantastic. Homemade cookies or brownies or cakes of all sorts were a daily staple of my childhood memories.

Among the recipes in my mother’s Recipe Accordion File was a hand-written page of directions from her sister’s mother-in-law, Cora Carroll of Waynesburg, Pennsylvania. This Texas Sheet Cake is one of the most sweet-tooth-satisfying cakes I have ever bitten into.

Try it. You’ll like it, I’m sure!


Texas Sheet Cake

Sift altogether in large bowl:

         2 cups granulated sugar               ½ teaspoon salt

         2 cups all-purpose flour                1 t baking soda

Saucepan:

         Melt 2 sticks of margarine [or butter], 1 cup water, ¼ cup cocoa. Bring to a full rolling boil.

Small Bowl:

         2 eggs (beaten)           1 teaspoon vanilla      

         ½ cup buttermilk         1 Tablespoon vinegar

Add everything to large bowl. Mix lightly. Pour into greased jelly-roll pan (15 ½ x 10 ½ inch)

Bake 20 minutes at 400°.

Ice while warm with Chocolate Icing:

         [Mix together] 1 pound confectioners’ sugar, 1 egg (beaten), ½ cup melted butter, 2 squares melted unsweetened chocolate, 1 teaspoon lemon juice. [spread over warm cake]


I transcribed the recipe as Cora wrote it out for my mother, baker to baker. I made sure to translate anything that seemed confusing, like measuring abbreviations, but other than that this is how the recipe was handed down.

I have another recipe for this cake from a 1980 edition of A Heritage of Good Tastes from Historic Alexandria, Virginia that uses a mix of shortening and butter instead of margarine in the cake. And in that version the Icing recipe substitutes 6 tablespoons of milk for the egg.

And you, my reader. Do you have variations of this Sheet Cake? What are your favorite childhood dessert memories?

Weekly Scribe: Ira Sayles to E.B. Hall, 9 October 1884

This letter was sent to Ira Sayles’ pharmacist buddy, E.B. Hall, during the USGS employee’s field work several months after the June correspondence. Though Ira does not name the son who is traveling with him through the Smoky Mountains of Tennessee, it can be deduced. Ira and estranged-wife Serena lost their daughter, Florette, in 1858 and son, Merlin, in 1877. Clifton, Ira’s oldest boy, was farming Mecklenburg County (VA) soil by the 1880s, and raising three young kids, Alice, Harold, and Jennie Belle, with wife Anna and mother Serena. That leaves only one child able to be the son referenced in this letter, their youngest child, Christopher Sherman, born in 1862 shortly before Ira enlisted in the Union Army. Apparently the boy was close to Ira, leaving Virginia to live with Ira in New York by 1880. And then, as mentioned here, traveling with his father as Ira conducted specimen-collecting fieldwork for the United States Geological Survey.


Whitesburg, Hamblen Co., Tenn.,

Thursday Morning, October 9, 1884

Friend Hall,

I send enclosed a Post Office Money Order for $20. Out of this pay yourself what I have so long owed you, and send to my address, as above, the balance in Lactopeptine, same as hitherto.

My son is just recovering from a run of Typhoid Congestive Fever. During its entire course, I have given Lactopeptine after every mouthful of nourishment; and I continue this now, uring his convalescence.

Trade card for Lactopeptine, The New York Pharmacal Association, location and date unknown.
https://www.historicnewengland.org/explore/collections-access/capobject/?refd=EP001.01.076.01.03.041

I proceed on the theory that, if no crude undigested food is permitted to pass out of the stomach into the lower bowels, first, a main cause for irritation of the lower portion is stopped; and secondly, all the secretion into the chylopoietic viscera will be healthy, and as nearly healthy chyle will be formed in its passage into the circulation as it is possible for the chylopoietic glands to form.

I think my reasoning correct; and I know this practice is proving correct. I have thereby prevented the loss of strenght; and, though my patient is quite weak, as compared with the strength of health, yet he is in a better condition than I ever before saw one come out of Typhoid.

The Graphic: An Illustrated Weekly Newspaper (London, England), 26 May 1883; accessed digitally Newspapers dot com, 18 Jan 2021.

Please send the medicine as soon as practicable, and

Great Oblige (sic)

Yours Very Respectfully, Ira Sayles

Weekly Scribe: Ira Sayles to Edwin B Hall, 1884

Today I transcribed this letter posted from my 2x great-grandfather, Ira Sayles, to his long time friend, Edwin B. Hall, at the end of June, 1884. I suspect that the friends first met in the 1860s after Ira’s sister, Rhobe Sayles Crandall, moved with their elderly parents to Wellsville (Allegany County, New York) where Hall ran a drugstore. Ira’s visits to check in on sister and parents would have provided opportunity for the two men to meet, and share their enthusiasm over all things geological. Both men collected rock and fossil specimens as citizen scientists; and Ira parlayed that hobby into a job with the newly developed United States Geological Survey in 1883. The Hall-Sayles friendship continued throughout Ira’s tenure. I am grateful to Jay Woelfle for sharing his 2x great-grandfather’s keepsakes with me.

A few days ago, the Mail Carrier laid on my table a package. On opening it, I might have imagined, but didn’t, that all the Wellsville typeclingers had suddenly fallen in love with me.  Some articles had pencil marks around them. The one from Mr. Rude reveals some curiosities relative to Prof. [J.L.] Burritt, and his management of the Academic Department of Wellsville Graded School. I have known some men similar to the one hinted at by Mr. Rude. Still I have seen the public run gaping after these very men. The truth is, that the general public is utterly unqualified to sit in judgement on really well educated intellect. A man with brass and endless variety of sweetened palaver can talk popular approval of any folly his fancy may choose, into the popular head. In educational matters, as in Religion and Politics, the blind lead the blind, unquestioned, and, even if questioned, the popular shield sufficiently protects the arraigned idol.

I know absolutely nothing of Prof. Burritt; but I suspect that Rude knows his man.

I discover that Wellsville rejoices in a New Light—The Free Press!  Does A.N.C.1 shine through its columns? If it lack his vast illuminating powers, ‘twill, possibly, prove an Ignis Fatuus3. A.N.C. and the great E. B.2 have shed such floods of thin light in Alleghany County that the people ought to erect a rival Washington’s Monument on their highest hill, to commemorate their appreciation of such wondrous services.

By the way and apropos, Washington’s Monument is becoming quite a respectable pillar. It has already attained the height of 470 feet above the foundation. In two months more, it is expected to reach 500 feet, from which point a new slope will bring it to a terminus, at the height of 555feet—the highest work ever erected by man: still how insignificantly small, compared with the huge pyramids of Egypt! The base of this monument is 55 feet: its walls, at the base, are fifteen feet thick, leaving, thus, twenty five feet of open space inside the walls.

In my judgement, its site is most unfortunate. Why it was placed down on that low ground, I can not imagine, nor have I yet found the man wise enough to give me any light on that point. It is there, but why there, nobody seems to know. All admit the blunder, if one can call such the case a blunder. It must have been chosen for some fancied advantage; but what? That’s the question. As an American Citizen, I am ashamed of the location. I don’t suppose my protest will avail anything; but I protest, “all the same!”


1 A.N. Cole, editor locally known as the “Father” of the area’s Republican Party.

2 Perhaps a reference to E B Hall.

3 Noun: 1: a light that sometimes appears in the night over marshy ground and is often attributable to the combustion of gas from decomposed organic matter. 2 : a deceptive goal or hope.