Inspiring Women of History: "Mad" Anne Bailey

By Kristi Waterworth

We all know the story of Paul Revere, who rode through New England screaming and waking a lot of folks up late at night because some guys in red coats were coming.  A story a lot fewer of us know is that of Anne Bailey, a frontier scout who served proudly in both the American Revolutionary War and the Northwest Indian War.  Anne was English, from Liverpool, same as my ancestors, and was orphaned by age 18.  

Since she had no one else and no where to be, she set sail for America in the late 1750s or early 1760s.  It's unclear if she paid her own way or if she entered into indentured servitude in exchange for passage, but if she did, the term was very short.  By 1765, she was married to an American named Richard Trotter and promptly took up residence in the Kanawha Valley area of Virginia.

The valley was turbulent, though, experiencing a great deal of violence between settlers and Native Americans (who were, by all rights, there first).  The governor raised a militia to help patrol the border and protect these settlers, Mr. Trotter enlisted gladly.  Unfortunately, he was killed at the Battle of Point Pleasant on October 10, 1774 – this battle is understood by some historians to be the first of the American Revolution.

Something in Anne snapped when she learned of her husband's death – she donned men's clothing (both illegal and scandalous at the time), learned to shoot a rifle and threw in with the Patriots.  Throughout the war, she served as a scout and messenger between Fort Savannah and Fort Randolph, a distance of about 160 miles.  During her travels, she recruited men for the militia from the towns she passed and was an adamant supporter of the American colonists in every way.

After America won its freedom, Anne continued to serve as a messenger and scout in the area until she married John Bailey, an elite frontier ranger.  Together they moved to Fort Lee, near Charleston, West Virginia, and continued to carry messages, scout and protect settlers from Native American attacks.  This is where a rough, unusual women turned legendary.  

In 1791, the fort received word that a party of Native Americans was headed right for them and discovered they were short on gun powder.  With the Natives bearing down on them, the settlers were desperate, but when the militia asked for a volunteer to ride the 100 miles to Fort Savannah for emergency supplies, none of the men stepped forward.  But no worries, because Anne took the job.  

The road was perilous, running through unsettled wilderness, but Anne wasn't afraid – someone had to save the fort or everyone inside might be killed.  She mounted a horse and rode the 100 miles without stopping to sleep or eat; she lingered at Fort Savannah only long enough to change horses and load her freight.  Anne rode back to the fort with the same gusto she left it, refusing even an escort from Fort Savannah.  Her quick return (and subsequent saving of the fort) earned her a hero's welcome, whiskey and the horse she rode back in on.  

After that it was business as usual for Anne and John.  When he died in 1802, Anne moved out to the wilderness, sleeping outdoors or in caves, according to legend.  She continued to carry messages until 1817, retiring at age 75.  Her son built a cabin on his property for his mother; she died on the property in 1825.

Kristi Waterworth is a freelance journalist based in Springfield, Missouri with a wide range of interests; her work frequently appears on the web and in print. Waterworth developed a long love affair with the Westerning Experience while studying American history in college. Despite the lies, intrigue and mythology intertwined with fact, the American West was a place and time like no other – the extreme adventure required an extreme response. She now seamlessly integrates her journalism skill with her history background at an irregularly updated site called Fifteen Minutes. You can also catch up with her on Facebook and, of course, here on I Feel Delicious.

Inspiring Women of History: Wild Rose O’Neal Greenhow, Confederate Spy

By Kristi Waterworth

The American Civil War was the bloodiest conflict that The United States of America has ever known; no one was left untouched as the battles, both moral and military, raged throughout the land. The Civil War was the first total war Americans experienced -- every man, woman and child was forced to take a side. Although today it’s hard to fully understand why anyone would defend the South, at the time the people of the South believed their way of life was being threatened and would be irrevocably changed. Fear of industrial collapse and abject poverty pushed average people to take extraordinary risks in order to defend their families and property.

One such woman was Rose O’Neal Greenhow, a widow and mother of four by the beginning of

the Civil War. She had been the wife of a Washington bureaucrat, and traveled in Washington social circles, but at heart she was still the girl that grew up on a small plantation in hotly divided Maryland. When the war broke out, Rose saw her opportunity to help her countrymen and family by sneaking intelligence across the Union lines to General Beauregard, based in Virginia.

Rose wasn’t a trained spy, but she had enough connections in Washington that information about troop movements and vital shipments fell into her lap easily. Captain Thomas Jordan, a Southern sympathizer, taught her the basics of cryptography before leaving the U.S. Army for the Confederacy. Armed with this knowledge, Rose re-entered the Washington social scene, often entertaining valuable Union officers in her home and probing them for information.
The First Battle of Bull Run might have been the end of the Confederacy, had Rose not intervened. The Confederate army was still very green and not ready for a full battle, but they had little choice as the Union army drew near. Information gathered by Rose allowed General Beauregard to call for reinforcements in time to turn the tide of that battle and set the tone of the war.

The Union had expected to easily defeat the Confederates, but the First Battle of Bull Run would prove to be the biggest, bloodiest skirmish to that point in American history. For the South, it was a huge victory that finally lent credence to their cause. No longer would the Union consider the rebels to be merely inconvenient and annoying, the armies of the South were now a major threat to the future of the United States.

A month after Bull Run, in August 1861, Rose would be arrested for her part in the Confederate victory. After several months in a filthy Union prison, Rose was brought in front of a panel who would decide what to do with her. Technically, she was guilty of treason, a hanging offense, but President Lincoln was afraid if he hung this woman, she would become a martyr for the Southern cause. Instead, he allowed her to choose to remain in the Union after swearing an oath of allegiance or be sent to the South. In May 1862, she was finally sent to Richmond, Virginia.

Once there, Jefferson Davis, the President of the Confederacy, welcomed Rose like a native daughter and appointed her as an emissary to Europe. In 1863, Rose left for London, where she published memoirs of her Union imprisonment, entitled My Imprisonment and the First Year of Abolition Rule. The book was a huge success in Europe, opening social and political doors for her in both England and France. Although these European socialites were sympathetic to the Southern cause, they refused to get involved in what they believed to be a wholly internal affair of the United States.

In 1864, Rose headed back to Richmond on the blockade runner CSS Condor. The ship ran aground in stormy weather, prompting Rose to man a lifeboat and flee. Sadly, her little boat capsized in the storm and she drowned. When her body was recovered, it became evident why – she had sewn the gold she had managed to raise for the Confederacy in Europe into her clothing. The sheer weight of the $2,000 in coins she so carefully protected had dragged her below the choppy water to her death.

Rose was buried with full Confederate military honors in October 1864 at Oakdale Cemetery near Wilmington, North Carolina. Every year, she’s honored with a ceremony that remembers her relentless dedication to the Southern cause.

Kristi Waterworth is a freelance journalist based in Springfield, Missouri with a wide range of interests; her work frequently appears on the web and in print. Waterworth developed a long love affair with the Westerning Experience while studying American history in college. Despite the lies, intrigue and mythology intertwined with fact, the American West was a place and time like no other – the extreme adventure required an extreme response. She now seamlessly integrates her journalism skill with her history background at an irregularly updated site called Fifteen Minutes. You can also catch up with her on Facebook and, of course, here on I Feel Delicious.

Inspiring Women of History: The Wacky WACs

By Kristi Waterworth

Feel Delicious is about empowering women to be all they can be, and I think there's no better representation of that in modern American history than the Women's Army Corps (WAC). This elite group of women served beside the United States Army before women were allowed to be in the army, doing many of the same tasks that had been formerly assigned to men. The WAC faced great opposition, but it also served as a shining example for women and girls of the 1940's and 1950's; no longer did they have only kitchens and infants to look forward to – they could have proper careers, they could have adventures and all because the women of the WAC seized an opportunity when it presented itself.

 

The WAC was the brain child of Congresswoman Edith Nourse Rogers, who introduced a bill in 1941 with the expressed goal of establishing a women's Army corps that was completely detached from the Army Nurse Corps. As you can imagine, there was incredible uproar, especially among Southern men in Congress. "Who will then do the cooking, the washing, the mending, the humble homey tasks to which every woman has devoted herself; who will nurture the children?" they asked during the floor debates.




The bill passed, though, largely in part because of a sudden, unexpected attack on Pearl Harbor that dragged America into World War II. The WAC, although working for less pay and receiving fewer benefits than their male counterparts, moved into the jobs left behind by men who were going overseas. WACs were generally well-educated college graduates with extensive office or teaching experience. A few, like my grandmother and the first WAC Major, Oveta Culp Hobby, were journalists.


Despite the positive impact the WAC had on the army, they were violently opposed by the public. Men accused women in the WAC of being lesbians or prostitutes, secretly fearing that WACs would fill up all the safer jobs and force them onto the battlefields. Unlike those men, the WACs who served overseas did so without overseas pay, government-issued life insurance, medical coverage or death benefits – and they didn't qualify for Veterans' benefits when they left the Army. On top of that, a woman even suspected of being pregnant was immediately discharged with no explanation. Times were tough for the WACs.

The going wasn't easy, but that first class of WACs did their duty because they believed in something greater. Standing together, all 150,000 of them, these women followed their brothers and husbands into danger, into a war on a scale like never before. World War II was a total war, complete with all the latest technology – to anyone who witnessed it, it could only be described as a hellish blood bath. Hitler was a very real and very frightening enemy, so much so that every possible hand was needed to defeat him. Even though they weren't allowed in combat, the WACs freed up men to fight by doing vital non-combat jobs that required they gathered information, kept communications open, repaired rifles and machinery and provided secretarial assistance in scattered locations.

Eventually, the tide turned and the WAC became the darlings of the media, but they still didn't get the same benefits as male soldiers. Despite the lack of proper recognition for their work, they plugged away. After the end of WWII, President Harry Truman finally recognized their efforts and signed into law the Women's Armed Services Integration Act that permitted women into the regular army. The WACs had made this possible by showing their grit despite the odds. The WACs continued on as a branch of the military, while playing important roles in Korea and Vietnam, but would be disbanded in 1978 to further efforts of sexual integration in the armed forces.

Kristi Waterworth is a freelance journalist based in Springfield, Missouri with a wide range of interests; her work frequently appears on the web and in print. Waterworth developed a long love affair with the Westerning Experience while studying American history in college. Despite the lies, intrigue and mythology intertwined with fact, the American West was a place and time like no other – the extreme adventure required an extreme response. She now seamlessly integrates her journalism skill with her history background at an irregularly updated site called Fifteen Minutes. You can also catch up with her on Facebook and, of course, here on I Feel Delicious.