J. Veech: hot, hardy and harassed
On the theory that it’s good to look back, here is a story of one James Veech of Uniontown, lawyer, businessman, and, in the first summer of the American Civil War, one of three men appointed by the governor of Pennsylvania to ensure that volunteer militias were paid on time and in the right amounts.
Veech served his state and country during the trying days of July-September 1861. It took a lot out of him.
First, a little background. James Veech was one of the most talented men in the town’s entire history. He had been a candidate for the U.S. Senate in 1858. He is the author of “The Monongahela of Old,” a venerable tome. He practiced law with D.T. Watson of Pittsburgh.
(Following his death in 1879, Veech was buried at Uniontown’s Oak Grove Cemetery.)
Fifty-one years old in 1861, Veech was reached at home by A.S. Russell, a military aid to Gov. Andrew Curtin, in June of that year.
In his telegram, Russell noted the governor was “exceedingly anxious to fill the … paymasterships with substantial and reliable men.”
“I go to Harrisburg tomorrow,” Veech wired back.
This ready acceptance was a mistake, or at least at times it seemed so. Late in the game, Veech defended himself against the “odious offense” that he had “cheated” Army volunteers out of their pay.
Veech counter-charged that the newspapermen who made such demonstratively false statements were performing a national disservice.
The “reckless” nature of the press in charging “public functionaries” with grave offenses “contributes largely to weakened confidence in and thereby impairs the efficiency of our government – state and national – at a time when we need to be striving to sustain them,” Veech wrote.
Veech’s job consisted of paying three-month volunteers – it was assumed the war would be over swiftly – between the time they were mustered into service and their pay was taken over by the national government, generally after a period of initial training.
There were plenty of complaints, largely a result of confusion arising from such a new and awkward enterprise and the startling nature of the emergency.
Meadville recruits felt especially shortchanged. In late September 1861, one officer complained to Veech, “Some of the … Meadville Volunteers haven’t, as yet, drawn any pay.”
The details were endless, the requests many. All in all, it was pretty pedestrian stuff, though it didn’t seem so at the time.
Among the irritants for Veech were the arduous trips he made back and forth from Harrisburg and Washington.
“I would advise you to come here at once,” an official in Harrisburg advised on July 10.
Veech heard from Governor Curtin’s office twice on July 10. An aide to the governor wired, “You had better come here at once.” Then, a little later, “Please come on.”
Late in July, Veech wrote from Pittsburgh to his wife, Mariah, in Uniontown. “The troops here all leave for Harrisburg today and I go with them.” When he would see Mariah again he was unable to say.
From Harrisburg, Veech reported that the city was “swelling with soldiers…. The capitol (building) is full of them – the capitol grounds – all the taverns, hotels – even the churches.”
On July 25, he was on his way to Washington. “I can’t tell when I will get home – not this week certain.”
On Aug. 1, 1861, Veech was back in the sweltering climes of the national capital. He informed Mariah he was “quite overcome with the heat & annoyances of travel, loss of sleep, etc. Today I am not well…. It is hot here.”
Veech failed to see President Lincoln or members of the cabinet. Nor did he make it up Capitol Hill. But he did spy General McClellan, the new chief of the Army. “He is a fine looking man, young and active.”
He ventured to Alexandria and “on to Ft. Ellsworth about a mile beyond the city.” Alexandria “looks deserted” with many homes now occupied by soldiers. “The customs house is now (an Army) bakery. Such is war.”
Veech strolled over to the Treasury grounds where a regiment of soldiers from New York were camped in the aftermath of the battle of Bull Run. He was assured that despite fearful losses, the men would soon be ready for another fight.
Two hundred regimental killed, wounded, and captured, while not good, was not the end of the world either.
Richard Robbins lives in Uniontown. He can be reached at dick.l.robbins@gmail.com.