West Virginia Center of a Violent Storm as an Emerging Civil War Border State

Brigadier General Jacob D. Cox was an Ohio political personality who was involved in organizing the Republican Party in Ohio as the Whig Party began to collapse. Elected to Ohio’s legislature in 1859, Cox also accepted a commission as a brigadier general in the Ohio Militia and when the Civil War broke out, he entered the Union Army with Ohio’s volunteers. Initially, Cox commanded a recruiting camp but was soon leading regiments into West Virginia’s Kanawha Valley in a campaign planned in Columbus under the leadership of General George McClellan. Jacob Cox and other equally amateur officers were going to war against similarly unskilled and inexperienced volunteer soldiers inside western Virginia. Cox was an excellent observer and skilled writer who described the beauty of the upper Kanawha Valley, particularly little Gauley Bridge:

“Nothing could be more romantically beautiful than the situation of the post at Gauley Bridge. The hamlet had, before our arrival there, consisted of a cluster of two or three dwellings, a country store, a little tavern, and a church, irregularly scattered along the base of the mountain and facing the road which turns from the Gauley valley into that of the Kanawha. The lower slope of the hillside behind the houses was cultivated, and a hedgerow separated the lower fields from the upper pasturage. Above this gentler slope the wooded steeps rose more precipitately, the sandstone rock jutting out into crags and walls, the sharp ridge above having scarcely soil enough to nourish the chestnut-trees, here, like Mrs. Browning’s Woods of Vallombrosa, literally ‘clinging by their spurs to the precipices.’” 

“In the angle between the Gauley and New Rivers rose Gauley Mount, the base a perpendicular wall of rocks of varying height, with high wooded slopes above. There was barely room for the road between the wall of rocks and the water on the New River side, but after going some distance up the valley, the highway gradually ascended the hillside, reaching some rolling uplands at a distance of a couple of miles. Here was Gauley Mount, the country-house of Colonel C. Q. Tompkins, formerly of the Army of the United States, but now the commandant of a Confederate regiment raised in the Kanawha valley. Across New River the heavy masses of Cotton Mountain rose rough and almost inaccessible from the very water’s edge. The western side of Cotton Mountain was less steep, and buttresses formed a bench about its base, so that in looking across the Kanawha a mile below the junction of the rivers, one saw some rounded foothills which had been cleared on the top and tilled, and a gap in the mountainous wall made room on that side for a small creek which descended to the Kanawha, and whose bed served for a rude country road leading to Fayette C. H. At the base of Cotton Mountain the Kanawha equals the united width of the two tributaries, and flows foaming over broken rocks with treacherous channels between, till it dashes over the horseshoe ledge below, known far and wide as the Kanawha Falls. On either bank near the falls a small mill had been built, that on the right bank a saw-mill and the one on the left for grinding grain.” 

small minority of the wealthier slaveholders being the nucleus of all aggressive secession movements. These, by their wealth and social leadership, overawed or controlled a great many who did not at heart sympathize with them, and between parties thus formed a guerilla warfare became chronic. In our scouting expeditions we found little farms in secluded nooks among the mountains, where grown men assured us that they had never before seen the American flag, and whole families had never been further from home than a church and country store a few miles away. From these mountain people several regiments of Union troops were recruited in West Virginia, two of them being organized in rear of my own lines, and becoming part of the garrison of the district in the following season.”

“On the side of Gauley Mount facing our post, we slashed the timber from the edge of the precipice nearly to the top of the mountain, making an entanglement through which it was impossible that any body of troops should move. Down the Kanawha, below the falls, we strengthened the saw-mill with logs, till it became a block-house loopholed for musketry, commanding the road to Charleston, the ferry, and the opening of the road to Fayette C. H. a single cannon was here put in position also.” 

“All this took time, for so small a force as ours could not make very heavy details of working parties, especially as our outpost and reconnoitring duty was also very laborious. This duty was done by infantry, for cavalry I had none, except the squad of mounted messengers, who kept carefully out of harm’s way, more to save their horses than themselves, for they had been enlisted under an old law which paid them for the risk of their own horses, which risk they naturally tried to make as small as possible. My reconnoitering parties reached Big Sewell Mountain, thirty-five miles up New River, Summersville, twenty miles up the Gauley, and made excursions into the counties on the left bank of the Kanawha, thirty or forty miles away. These were not exceptional marches, but were kept up with an industry that gave the enemy an exaggerated idea of our strength as well as of our activity.”

The soldiers assigned under the command of General Cox were new to the military and its discipline. Little more than armed mobs wearing uniforms during this early stage of the Civil War, soldiers on both sides frequently disobeyed officers and serious incidents occurred. Cox was soon facing a very dangerous mutiny within the Second Kentucky Regiment at Gauley Bridge in which his own life was threatened. With this as an example of the lack of discipline in the 1861 regiments of both sides, the burnings of homes, barns, and farms along with the murders that occurred when the soldiers were out of sight of their officers should not be surprising.

Cox continued:

“In the midst of the alarms from every side, my camp itself was greatly excited by an incident which would have been occasion for regret at any time, but which at such a juncture threatened for a moment quite serious consequences. The work of intrenching the position was going on under the direction of Lieutenant Wagner as rapidly as the small working parties available could perform it. All were overworked, but it was the rule that men should not be detailed for fatigue duty who had been on picket the preceding night. On August 28th, a detail had been called for from the Second Kentucky, which lay above the hedge behind my headquarters, and they had reported without arms under a sergeant named Joyce. A supply of intrenching tools was stacked by the gate leading into the yard where my staff tents were pitched, and my aide, Lieutenant Conine, directed the sergeant to have his men take the tools and report to Mr. Wagner, the engineer, on the line. The men began to demur in a half-mutinous way, saying they had been on picket the night before. Conine, who was a soldierly man, informed them that that should be immediately looked into, and if so, they would be soon relieved, but that they could not argue the matter there, as their company commander was responsible for the detail. He therefore repeated his order.

“The sergeant then became excited and said his men should not obey. Lieutenant Gibbs, the district commissary, was standing by, and drawing his pistol, said to Joyce, “That’s mutiny; order your men to take the tools or I’ll shoot you.” The man retorted with a curse, “Shoot!” Gibbs fired, and Joyce fell dead. When the sergeant first refused to obey, Conine coolly called out, “Corporal of the guard, turn out the guard!” intending very properly to put the man in arrest, but the shot followed too quick for the guard to arrive.

“I was sitting within the house at my camp desk, busy, when the first thing which attracted my attention was the call for the guard and the shot. I ran out, not stopping for arms, and saw some of the men running off shouting, “Go for your guns, kill him, kill him!” I stopped part of the men, ordered them to take the sergeant quickly to the hospital, thinking he might not be dead. I then ordered Gibbs in arrest till an investigation should be made, and ran at speed to a gap in the hedge which opened into the regimental camp. It was not a moment too soon. The men with their muskets were already clustering in the path, threatening vengeance on Mr. Gibbs. I ordered them to halt and return to their quarters. Carried away by excitement, they levelled their muskets at me and bade me get out of their way or they would shoot me. I managed to keep cool, said the affair would be investigated, that Gibbs was already under arrest, but they must go back to their quarters. The parley lasted long enough to bring some of their officers near. I ordered them to come to my side, and then to take command of the men and march them away.”

These men from the Second Kentucky Regiment actually threatened the life of their commander, General Cox, who was unable to order another regiment to place the Second Kentucky mutineers under arrest since this was the only regiment in the town at the time of the killing of the mutinous sergeant. Raids into the homemade “stillhouses” that produced Moonshine alcohol wasn’t mentioned in Cox’s narrative, but drunkenness was very probably a frequent factor in the undisciplined violent behavior.

“The real danger was over as soon as the first impulse was checked. The men then began to feel some of their natural respect for their commander, and yielded probably the more readily because they noticed that I was unarmed. I thought it wise to be content with quelling the disturbance, and did not seek out for punishment the men who had met me at the gap. Their excitement had been natural under the circumstances, which were reported with exaggeration as a wilful murder. If I had been in command of a larger force, it would have been easy to turn out another regiment to enforce order and arrest any mutineers; but the Second Kentucky was itself the only regiment on the spot. The First Kentucky was a mile below, and the Eleventh Ohio was the advance-guard up New River. Surrounded as we were by so superior a force of the enemy with which we were constantly skirmishing, I could not do otherwise than meet the difficulty instantly without regard to personal risk.

“The sequel of the affair was not reached till some weeks later when General Rosecrans assembled a court-martial at my request. Lieutenant Gibbs was tried and acquitted on the plain evidence that the man killed was in the act of mutiny at the time. The court was a notable one, as its judge advocate was Major R. B. Hayes of the Twenty-third Ohio, afterwards President of the United States, and one of its members was Lieutenant-Colonel Stanley Matthews of the same regiment, afterwards one of the Justices of the Supreme Court.” 

Judge Advocate Major R. B. Hayes of the Twenty-third Ohio, afterwards President of the United States, had more cases to deal with than the trial of Lieutenant Gibbs for killing a mutinous sergeant. In his diary, Hayes related examples of his cases from only one of the numerous regiments in Cox’s small Union force, the Ninth Ohio Infantry Regiment, a totally German unit:

“… one man shot for resisting a corporal, two men in irons for a rape.”

Another soldier had been shot for disobedience and a woman in this very small town had been raped by two of the German soldiers. More violence occurred with Cox’s large patrols that scattered around the area when senior officers were not present to control them as the burning of local property was a common occurrence in western Virginia. A typical patrol from Cox’s small army was described in a soldier’s diary:

“Scouting party of eighteen men. Went out about ten miles where we burned a schoolhouse and a stillhouse and captured fifty chickens and a number of turkies.”

The inability to control the soldiers when officers were not present led to suffering by the people in the small town. The small wooden Baptist church in Gauley Bridge was also burned during the war as was the farm owned by Confederate Colonel Christopher Q. Tompkins at Gauley Mount. Violence also spread outward from the small town.

Jake Pinson and Bell Creek

Forrest Hull recorded in The West Virginia Review in 1938 the story of a man, Jake Pinson, who was “bearded, rough, quick-tempered and regarded as a bad man to cross….” And all of these strange goings-on worried Mrs. Pinson. She came from a family that ‘leaned’ toward the Yankees. One of her sons had already left home and joined the Union army, and Pinson had sworn to kill him on sight. A daughter, Morning Pinson, had married one of the Yankees.” It was apparently well known that Pinson was a southern sympathizer and a store proprietor in the Union-sympathizing town located across the mountain from Bell Creek walked to Gauley Bridge to report on the threats made by the angry customer.

After Jake Pinson purchased “powder and caps” in the small, prosperous river town of Cannelton and suggesting his new supply could be used against the Union soldiers occupying the valley, a local commander sent a patrol rumored to be 40 soldiers from Gauley Bridge to arrest Pinson as a potential ringleader of a group of bushwhackers on nearby Bell Creek. When Pinson saw the approaching patrol, he fired at the officer leading the Union soldiers, killing him, and bringing on a hour-long gunfight that resulted in the deaths of two of the Pinson children. Hearing Mrs. Pinson’s shouts that she “was a Union woman,” the soldiers began to negotiate with Jake Pinson, but when he came to the door, he was shot twice, and according to Hull, “the soldiers ran up and pinned his body to the log wall with their bayonets” before departing with the body of their dead officer on a horse taken from the Pinson barn.

The story of Jake Pinson’s death during a truce, along with two of his children as fatalities, was undoubtedly spread widely in a short time as Pinson’s extended family and clan probably waited for an opportunity for revenge. Cox’s Kanawha Brigade soon rotated to the Army of the Potomac where it participated in the Battle of South Mountain and Battle of Antietam where it was too far distant from Bell Creek and Gauley Bridge for revenge to be exacted. Rutherford Hayes and the 23rd Ohio, however, returned to duty in West Virginia — to Gauley Bridge where the revenge cycle apparently was exacted at the nearby Fenton Morris’ mill.

The full story was explained in the Charleston Daily Mail in 1956:

“On the night of 31 Jul 1863, Fenton Morris, who lived in a two story log cabin on Gauley River opposite the present village of Jodie, was awakened by the barking of his hound dogs. The uproar brought him out of his bed with a premonition of danger. He pulled on his pants and moved cautiously across the room.

“Other members of the household were also awakened. It was war time and every householder in the back country had become accustomed to the visits of prowling soldiers. They came at all hours, ate up every bit of food, filled the house with vermin, and departed with curses. Many times they burned the house that had sheltered them.

“Fenton was a prominent citizen. His log tavern and water mill at Beech Glen, several miles above Gauley Bridge, were known far and wide. He was probably a southern sympathizer; but had convinced the federal officers at Gauley Bridge, the base camp, that he was neutral. For three years he remained friendly with the invading blue soldiers and had kept his water mill intact and grinding out corn for the Nicholas County farmers.

“Fenton tiptoed to the front door and called out. A voice answered: “Union soldiers. Want bed for the night…Open up”. Morris removed the bar and opened the door. Two bearded soldiers pushed their way inside. A heavy scent of moonshine liquor came in with them. Morris pointed up the stairway and the two soldiers ascended to a room and fell asleep on the shuck mattress, leaving their carbines and revolvers lying on the floor. Morris went back to bed.

“It was just past midnight when Morris was again awakened by the sound of blows on his front door. The door was broken open and a dozen strange men rushed into the hallway. A pistol was pointed at Fenton’s breast and a demand was made for the location of the two Yankee soldiers. Morris pointed upstairs. Several of the men climbed the steep stairs. There was a clamor of voices, the sound of blows, a scream, a shot, and the men came back downstairs and disappeared into the night.

“Morris immediately went upstairs to the room of the two soldiers. They lay on the floor, bludgeoned and bloody. In horror, he went back downstairs, mounted an old horse, his only one, and rode to Gauley Bridge. To the first officer he met, he reported the events and was immediately arrested. A detail was sent up the river to investigate.

“Col. Rutherford B. Hayes, of the 23rd infantry, U.S. Army, wrote in his diary on Aug. 1st the following: ‘Camp White (Charleston): Our best scouts, Corporal Jacobs and Private Fenchard, Co. F, were brutally murdered at Morris’ Mill on Gauley, 12 miles above Gauley Bridge. I have ordered Morris arrested and if found guilty, he will be hung.’

“In jail at Gauley Bridge, Fenton Morris found he had several friends to come to his defense. James Hodge Miller, ex-toll taker of the burned Gauley Bridge, and a citizen of prominence along the valley, testified as to Morris’ character. Miles Manser, merchant and politician, and a man friendly to the Union, stood up to the Federal officials and spoke for his old friend. John Paddy Huddleston appeared as a witness, also.

“When Fenton was arraigned before a military court, his testimony of that night’s events was corroborated by the Morris family and a Negro servant. The court pondered, and reached a verdict. Morris was released when Col. Rutherford Hayes addressed the court and asked that the charge be dismissed. This was done and Mr. Morris returned to his home at Beech Glen.

“In 1876, Rutherford B. Hayes, erstwhile colonel of the 23rd Ohio Regiment, ran for president of the U. S. None of the Confederate friends of Fenton Morris were surprised when he supported Hayes strongly. ‘He is a fair-minded gentleman, even if he is a Yank. He kept me from being hung.’”

Cox, Jacob D., Military Reminiscences of the Civil War.

Hayes, Rutherford B., Diary and Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, edited by Charles R. Williams, Ohio State Archaeological and Historical Society: 1922, pg. 83.

Williams, Harry T., Hayes of the Twenty-third: The Civil War Officer; Alfred A. Knopf, New York: 1965, pg. 64.

https://www.ukvedc.org/gauley-bridge/communities/gauley-bridge.html; Blackwell, Lyle M., Gauley Bridge: The Town and Its First Church, Parsons, WV: McClain, 1980, pp. 25–37.

Hull, Forrest, “Hillbilly Saga,” The West Virginia Review, Vol. 17, №9, 1938, pp. 239–241.

Charleston Daily Mail, Sun, 23 Sep 1956