Our hero’s conquered Jesse James; Geronimo he’s battered.
The Sphinx of aulden Aegypt’s land, the smilin’ smig he’s shattered.
‘Auld Nick’ that bakes the rakes below, flapped up the prince to fell –
But the champ’s put his tail in a shamrock knot, and hammered him back to Hell!
Sweet muses fair, let down your hair, to noose me if I’m wrong;
If e’er a fake or falsity went uttered in me song.
So come, we’ll raise the potent punch, and with it we’ll imbibe:
To Fightin Johnny Thunders, friends! – the Chief of Erin’s tribe!
PART VII
THE STEAMSHIP SEASON
Oh stokesman, burn them lumps a coal;
Big river roll down free;
Oh paddle spin, an bring again
My honey back to me.
Got the blackcat bone for all my joys,
Got the mojo-hand for fun.
Oh stokesman, churn your paddles hard;
Your steamboat bound ta come.
From the singing of Jeremiah Mooney, as recollected by Elizabeth Leavensworth
CHAPTER 43
THE SAME OLE THING MADE THE PREACHER LAY THE BIBLE DOWN
Elizabeth Longstreet remembers Lucia
There some in the world got the lightning of the angels…Not all of em even beautiful but it somethin in how they do. And that’s what she got. And you had to look at it again. Cause you had to be sure it was real you know…Nothin got to do with beauty or pretty…It aint a thing of words…It’s in spirit…But there times you get to feelin for a woman got that…Or a man, or a child…Cause it a hard thing too…Cause it bring a lot of people aint no good for you at all…Make it hard for you to know a separation…
Got the Spain in her blood like the Mexicana you know. Fiery lookin. Strikin. Kind a haughty like they do. Got them eyes full of light the Latina people got. An she shape just so. She got the carriage a man like…I would say they was handsome, yes…A handsome couple. Cause the General was a memorable lookin person, too…You seen him one time, he fix in your mind…Kind of brawny man. Big. Muscle-and-blood kind of man. And his wife was the beauty of the livin world. Poor Missus O’Keeffe. Been a long time since I seen her.
She was a real religious, I recollect that. ‘The Light of the Cross’ was her Christian name in English. Lucia-Cruz. Aint that some name?…Say some doctor feller back east walk in the river when she wouldn wed with him. I dunno if it so. Wouldn surprise me none.
She pray the beads and all the saints like the Catholic do. Got em a saint for ever day of the almanac. See all church got it own way of comin to the Light, like the Jew, the Baptist, the Quaker, ever one. It more churches an meetings than stars in the sky. Old Baptist get the spirit and he shout and shake. And in India the milk-cows is holy…See it many roads of comin to the Presence of the One. To Him be the Glory; hallelujah.
[Acetate disc is scratched here. Eleven seconds indecipherable.]
…this old cigar box and he run around collectin stones in it. Not stones exactly, but alley-taws you know, how a boy will. Like what is the word?…Yes, the marbles…He was a natural child; all he need was to be care for. Redeemer say the children to come unto me. World took His counsel be quieter.
But poor Miss O’Keeffe. She couldn fit to that boy. No, sir. Couldn fit to that boy…And it hard for any woman [to] mother a child aint her own. She try. But the kiddie so wild you see…Do any way he want to. Never listen to nobody. Run around like a dog. Climbin under the floor. Stealin papers out the desk. Run away from the schoolhouse…And the General reckon that was all just fine…But Missus O’Keeffe – she didn agree. No, sir.
CHAPTER 44
SHE DON’T WANT ME NONE
Lucia wishes to be rid of the child – Her husband wishes to keep him – Some letters, some answers & a poem about a soldier
May to July, 1866
To The Sanitary Commission, Washington, District of Columbia. From The Governor’s Residence, Robert Emmet Street, Redemption Falls, the Mountain Territory, North-east Quadrant
May 1st, 1866
Sirs:
I am the wife of General James C. O’Keeffe, Acting Governor of this Territory. We are informed that you gentlemen at the Sanitary Commission are engaged in the work of furnishing information to families concerning combatants that did not return from the War.
Four months ago, an indigent boy that we think may have been among the rebel forces was found wandering at a mine near Redemption Falls. He is aged between ten and fourteen years and is four feet two inches in height, with dark brown eyes, a slight frame, and Mediterranean appearance. We believe his surname to be MOONEY; his initial is J. He responds, we have noticed, to the Christian name JEREMIAH. The unfortunate child would appear to be a mute. We have the impression that he pines for his home.
Since obviously there is no place here for such a boy as this, we are most eager that he be reunited with his family directly. Please instructby return as to how this may be expedited. We shall meet any costs that might arise in the matter and offer an amount of fifty dollars to his parents.
Sincerely,
Lucia-Cruz O’Keeffe
May 27th, 1866
Dear Correspondent:
The Sanitary Commission possesses no records of rebel combatants. We are, therefore, unable to assist.
Faithfully,
R.F. Madigan
To the Law Offices of Kiernan, McBride, and Love.
52 Mulberry Street, 14th Ward, New York City
May 11th, 1866,
My dear McBride:
Hope you are keeping well and crime continues to pay. All here in the Territory is good, or at any rate not bad. We shall have to entice you and Her Ladyship for a royal visit some time. Lucia would be delighted to see you both again. We shall bring up the trumpets and drums.
Condifentially [sic] Old Stick; I am in want of a little lawyerly advice from a man I trust, and since such a one is unavailable, I thought that I had better turn to yourself. To be serious: Lucia and I wish to adopt a child in whom we have taken an interest. Be good enough to let me know a little as to the proceedure [sic] and what must be done, will you? I mean is his birth certificate necessary, & cetera, & cet. I suppose there is a balls-aching amount of penpushery involved, but let me know. We mean to act on it quickly.
Forgive brevity, old friend, and remember me to La Reine.
In haste but as ever,
O’Keeffe
’SUBSCRIBER-ADVERTISEMENT’
PLACED IN SOUTHERN NEWSPAPERS
BETWEEN JUNE3 rd and 7th, 1866
FOUND!
One boy, J. MOONEY at Redemption Falls, the Mntn. Territory. Approx 11 yrs. A mute. Possb. Irish. Apply to: Mrs J.C. O’Keeffe, (Private, Confidential). Redemption Falls. N.E. Quadrant.
To the White House, Washington, the District of Columbia
IN REGARD TO PREVIOUS CORRESPONDENCE
June 8th, 1866
Mr. President, sir:
I trust that you will excuse a brief interruption. A month ago I wrote the Secretary of War about the case of a vagrant boy. To date (irritatingly), I have received no response. You might be good enough to have someone attend to the matter immediately. The boy must be repatriated to his family.
My father, Peter McLelland, a supporter of your Presidency, would be grateful for your personal intervention in this case; as of course would
His daughter,
Lucia-Cruz McLelland-O’Keeffe
REFERENCE: ’REPATRIATION’ OF INDIGENT BOY
June 29th, 1866
Madam:
I am instructed by the President’s aide-de-camp to reply to your communication of June 15th ult (and three previous). You will appreciate that the President, who is helming the national reconstruction, has not the leisure to involve himself in such matters as the one you raise.
The President adds his hope that your husband’s continuing employment as Acting Governor of the Mountain Terri
tory is adequately expressive of his gratitude for your family’s endorsement. If that is not so, I may say, Mrs O’Keeffe, that his resignation will be accepted without objection.
You might consider writing some person at the Sanitary Commission, or subscribing an advertisement in one of the southern newspapers. But the question is your own to manage as you will. This correspondence is now concluded.
Faithfully,
[unsigned],
Undersecretary
Post script: Your use of the term ‘repatriation’ is quite inappropriate, if I may say so, and has given offense in certain quarters that were better unoffended. You will have noticed that a war has of late been fought among our people to decide the problematical question of whether or not the United States is one country. It is.
FROM A LETTER TO AN IRISH PRISONER IN MANCHESTER JAIL, ENGLAND
…He is a quiet little pup, rather inhibited and sad; but I must say I have taken a fondness to him. L, for her part, reckons him a wonderful apparition and has quite fallen in love with him, I believe. Never thought I should be interested in children at all, and am not, in a sense – beastly little ****ing *******s†– but there is an expression he has at certain moments that rather disarms the heart. No, that is not correct. I don’t know how to characterize it. But I do not need to describe it; as a father, you will know it. One feels – how to say it – protective and so on. He is satisfied with little and brings much.
Since we have no children of our own, we should very much like to help him; and we hope he will remain with us happily. He has one or two little ways that want a certain degree of regulation – how could he not, given the life he must have led? – but L is really a most adaptable creature (in that way quite unlike her lord and master!). She will make him an ideal mother, I know. One has always felt that motherhood would be her gift, her ideality. And it shall settle something in her to have a function at last. You know how very ************* they can grow without one. My plan is that all treats shall be administered by yours truly, and L can mete out the correction…
To Mrs. John Fintan Duggan, Rose Cottages, Merchant Street, Richmond, Virginia
June 30th, 1866
Dearest Martha:
I should have written very much sooner to say that we were absolutely sorry, Con and I, to learn the heartbreaking news of the deaths of the boys. We remember them day and night in our every prayer, and we condole with you, even so belatedly, for your dreadful loss.
James we shall always remember as so handsome and strong, Con as the gentler, with your own tender spirit, and also your loyalty and exceptional goodness. This terrible and wasteful war will take us all a long time to recover from, dearest Martha; but perhaps we women can somehow cut a path.
Martha, I had hoped to have your counsel on a delicate question. We have found a boy here in the Territory – a southerner, we feel certain – and wish very much to return him to his family. He was caught up in the war and may have followed a southern Army. I wonder if John would have any suggestion as to where we might turn. I am quite at a loss, and obviously the child can not remain here. Might you ask John to advise me, if he would?
Fondly,
Lucia (L.C.O’K.)
July 11th, 1866
Rose Cottages, Merchant Street, Richmond, Virginia
Mrs O’Keeffe:
If ever you presume to write me again, which I wish you would not, take note that my name is Mrs Lieutenant John Fintan Duggan. Only friends are permitted to address me by Christian name; and I no longer regard you, or anyone belonging to you, as any friend of my family.
Talk of loyalty and goodness comes strangely from you, Mrs O’Keeffe. Do you think we hear nothing in the backwoods of Virginia, or that the south has no eyes in the streets of New York City? The world knows of your touching wifeliness in recent years. I will take no homilies from a woman of scandal.
For your further information, Mrs O’Keeffe, my sons did not die in any ‘wasteful war’. Their cause was correct, their courage manly; and the crocodile tears of a secretly gloating enemy are nothing but a debasement of their memory. I can only hope and pray, as they breathed their last, that the horrible thought did not occur to them, that their godfather, your husband, was among the legalized murderers who came to spill their blood.
Recently my attention was brought to a so-called poem, which appeared below your initials in an abolitionist northern ragsheet. Had ever I thought, when foolishly I regarded you as a friend, that you would pen such an affront, I should have shunned you sooner. My husband, in prison, said this contemptible dirt could not have been produced by you; but I have long suspected you capable of despicable acts. You are the sort of woman no man can ever truly see through, for the turn of your ankle or the flash of your eyes creates a most useful diversion; but I, Mrs O’Keeffe, see you clearly enough. The beauty given you by God you have turned to a mask, like your husband’s oratorical patriotism. Samson, it would seem, was not the last fool brought low by a painted appearance. You will recall from your Milton how a once great man ended: ‘Eyeless inGaza at the mill with slaves, Himself in bonds underPhilistian yoke.’
Are all soldiers, in any war, to be measured the same? Is the invader, with his battalions and armaments and bombs, with a treasure-house of filthy dollars to support his crime, the double of the one who picks up a stone to defend his aggressed homeland from the trespasser? I thank God that my sons regarded the world rightly and knew the distinction between evil and goodness, black and white. Were I a more charitable person than the Almighty has seen fit to make me, I should pray that you, too, discover it one day. Such a knowledge might improve your morals, as well as your poetry.
I am,
Mrs. Lieutenant John Fintan Duggan
WREATH FOR AN ENEMY SOLDIER
by ‘L.C.O’K.’†
Who will saytraitor on this lilied corse,
Which lies neath weeping salley bough?
Shall we disdain this fallen force?
See, the mercies yet allow
The zephyrs kiss his bloodied brow.
Who will sayrebel on this lilied corse?
Lost, the gallant boonfriends now
Whose boyhood valor did endow.
Shall we deride this fallen force?
He had his cause. He chose his course,
As all we must, who know not how.
Who will sayliar on this lilied corse,
So stillèd side the watercourse,
Hush’d lips yet framing loyal vow?
Shall we defame this fallen force,
To count it cruel and count it coarse?
Then come, his betters – mock him now.
Who will saytraitor on this dead child’s face,
And laugh upon its sacrifice?
CHAPTER 45
THE CHILD WITHOUT A FATHER
Treating of events in Redemption Falls between May and August, 1866. A selection from the Archive of J. Daniel McLelland, Professor (Emeritus) Department of American Literature and Folklore, Columbia University. Comprising transcripts of field-recordings from surviving Redemptionites, letters to Professor McLelland, and other documents. Recordings made in the field in the summer of 1927 unless otherwise indicated. Letters individually dated.
ELIZABETH LEAVENSWORTH,néeLONGSTREET, DOMESTIC SERVANT
Recorded 1928, Monrovia, Liberia
Steamboat season come in round the end of the spring rise…Dependin on the year but that’s May, early June. When the melt-snow put water enough for sailin in the river. And late May’s about as early as that ever happen – it change from year to year but generally May. And that’s how I remember what happen with the child. Cause come time the season over – so August, like I said – that house was about fixin to boil.
PENLEY O’GRADY, CATTLEMAN
Yeah, you’d see em in the town. O’Keeffe and the shaver…Remember it like it was yesterday…Two of em goin along with the dog…Wolf-hound dog O’K had him that time…Kind of funnylookin curiosity, O’K an
d the kid, cause O’K was this mountainy sort of a sight – big nurly Fin Macool in his general’s duds – where the kiddie was about so high, no more…Piece of work he was too…What I recall about him now, he’s curious as all-get-out. Stare you right in the face. Or at what you was doin. Hadn the manners of a Irish hog…But O’Keeffe didnt seem to care.
FRANK DUNNEGAN, FORMER BARKEEP, THE COSSA-ON-SHOOGAWN SALOON
Recorded June 1931, St Peter’s Hospital, San Francisco
…I mean there’s people can do remarkable things. Forgivers and peacemakers. Bring folk all together. You moughta got one in your family, in your place of work. Me, I got a theory there got to beoneof em in a marriage, else you aint gonna stay married too long, Jack. But you know the type I mean. Compromise people. Point bein, O’Keeffe wasn’t one of em.
Not by a jugful. Tough son-of-a-bitch. Glare you like a sidewinder if you crossed him. And brother, I mean glared: the thousand yard stare. Your balls’d wither up in their holsters[when]you got that one. Remind you of one of them old pagan druids. Not a character for funnin around.
Man told me, in the War he saw him shoot a prisoner one time. You know forwhy? For singin a rebel song. I dunno if it’s true – I suspect may be not. But Old Hard-Stuff was capable of cruelty, you know. That’s what they called him in the War. Kill a man and no compunction: least none you’d get to hear of. So he didn’t have too many exactly loved him.
No, I don’t say him and the small-fry was friends exactly. Folk tell you they was like father and son – that’s bunkum. I seen em together plenty and that aint the way it was. It was more – how’d you say it? – they could be in one another’s company at all. Have to tell you, it was a remarkable thing.