An illustration in Harper's Weekly from 1861 shows United States volunteers attacked by a mob at the corner of Fifth and Walnut.
St. Louis during the Civil War was a deeply polarized place, where political beliefs and economic interests—which were frequently one and the same—caused considerable strife over the course of the conflict. But the outbursts of civic violence that occurred in St. Louis from 1861 to 1865 offer lessons on how leaders can handle the unrest. Several years ago, I investigated the Medical College Disturbance of 1843, and how outrage over the handling of cadavers resulted at least partially in the dominance of German medicine in St. Louis before the Civil War. The violence that rocked St. Louis in the 1860s made those riots look tame.
The city of St. Louis was split between slavery interests, generally the business of longtime residents of the city, and newly arrived German-American businessmen and their employees, who were fiercely abolitionist, particularly so after the arrival of radicals from Germany after the failed Revolutions of 1848. Due to the strategic importance of St. Louis, even before the outbreak of hostilities at Fort Sumter on April 12 and 13, 1861, igniting the Civil War, both sides were already planning on how they would seize the city.
Events turned violent in St. Louis when those ethnic and political hostilities boiled over after Union General Nathaniel Lyon, who commanded the Arsenal, captured the Confederate-leaning Missouri militia at Camp Jackson with the help of thousands of German-American volunteers on May 10, 1861, at then-rural Lindell Grove on what is now the Frost Campus of St. Louis University (the former site of the surrender was named after Confederate general Daniel C. Frost after a descendant donated the land to the university). The surrender went peacefully overall, but the problems started when General Lyon and his men marched their captives east on Olive back through downtown toward the Arsenal. A mob looted the Dimick & Co. gun shop at 113-115 N. First Street and joined the crowd gathering to meet the soldiers and prisoners heading east down Olive.
There are many contemporary accounts of what happened next. Eben Richards, writing to his wife, Caroline, on May 13, 1861, describes some of the violence that broke out: “While the soldiers were forming preparatory to taking the prisoners to the arsenal they were subjected to a great deal of abuse from the mob and after being fired upon returned the fire.”
Abolitionist pastor Galusha Anderson, in his Story of a Border City During the Civil War, wrote about his time living in St. Louis, and tells us of the outcome: “The result was pitiable. The number of killed and wounded was about twenty-five. Not alone those guilty of jeering and attacking the soldiers were struck down, but chiefly the innocent, who had been attracted to the spot by the general and unusual excitement, and some of them were women and children.”
I don’t understand why General Lyon chose to take such an irresponsible route to the Arsenal via downtown St. Louis. By 1861, while much of the area west of the city was still rural in between Lindell Grove and the Arsenal, Grand Boulevard and Arsenal Street were already laid out, and that route to safety would have been much more logical and safer than through a heavily urbanized area. I can’t help but think that the brash Lyon was seeking to antagonize the pro-slavery population of St. Louis, and he succeeded in that goal. The result was also the death of dozens of innocent people, and the wounding of countless more.
The Globe-Democrat newspaper, which was pro-Union and Republican Party–affiliated, also recounted the violence in its May 13 edition, including an attack by a mob on its offices. The newspaper staff, however, was not intimidated, after learning of the approach of the crowd:
“We were advised, in due season of the spirit of the mob, and with our force of compositors of about twenty men, made preparations to meet them.”
The battle between the newspapermen and the mob never occurred, however, because the police arrived, their muskets affixed with bayonets, forcing the attackers back under a volley of stones. The Globe-Democrat referred to their street critics as “wild beasts” and “infuriated devils.” Further up on the same page, the newspaper also reported rumors swirling that pro-slavery elements claimed the German population of St. Louis planned to burn the whole city down. The next day was no better.
Photograph by Thomas Easterly, 1868, courtesy of the Missouri History Museum
Second Presbyterian Church, Northwest Corner of Fifth and Walnut
Richards recounts to his wife some more of the violence around Second Presbyterian Church on May 11 at Fifth and Walnut streets: “Whereupon the soldiers turned and fired upon the mob and at the windows of the houses which up to the time of the first pistol shot were filled with persons. You will see by the papers the number of killed and wounded. It is a miracle that more were not killed for the houses from Fifth to seventh streets on the North side of Walnut are pretty well scarred by the bullets.”
Anderson’s retelling of the attack by the church reveals the death toll: four soldiers, two rioters, and three innocent bystanders.
It quieted down in St. Louis for a while, with a change in military leadership directed by President Lincoln himself, but in July of 1863, poor decisions again led to an outburst of rioting and death in Hyde Park, in what was the edge of the St. Louis urban area at the time. Nearby was Benton Barracks, the large encampment where Confederate prisoners of war were also held. For the Fourth of July holiday, many of them were allowed out to attend the festivities occurring at Hyde Park, a short walk from the Barracks. Alcohol “flowed copiously,” and fights broke out, and only with great effort did the police gain control of the crowd. But the fracas picked up again, according to the Globe-Democrat, because many of the attendees had paid 50 cents to see a hot air balloon and horse (to lift the horse up in the air? The article is not clear), and the crowd grew restless “to get their money’s worth.”
An unidentified soldier at Benton Barracks, c. 1863-65
The arrival of soldiers from Benton Barracks did little to calm the mob, and when the crowd refused to disperse, the soldiers fired, killing at least five. The German language newspaper Westliche Post declared the incident “The Bloodbath in Hyde Park,” with the Globe-Democrat providing gruesome descriptions of the fatal injuries of each of the dead. The incident confirmed that such poorly organized events with soldiers providing security in wartime in a severely divided city was a bad idea. The Civil War ended in 1865, but much of the animosity from those four years left its mark on St. Louis. It also provides us with valuable lessons as we move forward today.
