Chapter One

This appellation was applied to a loose affiliation of “Special Correspondents” (reporters) and “Special Artists” (illustrators) who traveled with Union armies reporting the war. Every substantial newspaper in the country sent “specials” into the field, but the greater number of these were employed by the three weekly papers headquartered in New York City: Harper’s Weekly, Frank Leslie’s Illustrated Newspaper, and the New York Illustrated News.

Antebellum newspapers relied on the clarity, and persuasiveness of their editorials to sell papers. Consequently, popular “OpEd” writers received sizable salaries. Due to the sordid reputations many “reporters” sported, they occupied the lowest rung of the news industry ladder, and had to make due with covering the occasional society scandal or gory murder. They were seen as an unwelcome though necessary evil by their superiors in the industry. With the outbreak of war, this construct was turned upside down. The folks back home wanted news from the battlefront, and papers had to rely on “specials” to satisfy their desire to see pictures and read articles which told the story of the ongoing action.

Northern papers employed over four-hundred “specials” during the course of the war. The vast majority of them sent back written reports. There were probably fewer than forty who reported the war in pictures. Engravings of the drawings and paintings these “special artists” submitted were the only means newspapers had of presenting their readers visual images. The lengthy exposure time of the cameras couldn’t “stop” action, and photoengraving, a process allowing the continuous tone of a photograph to be reproduced in print, wouldn’t be available for years.

Papers in the south sent approximately 100 reporters to the front, but material shortages, especially paper, forced them to abandon the effort midway through the war.

“Specials” weren’t well rewarded for the hardships and dangers they were forced to endure while performing their reportorial duties. Staff writers generally received a salary, but freelance writers were only paid for stories that ran in the paper, earning five to ten dollars a column. For those drawings converted into engravings, artists received between five and twenty-five dollars. Alfred Waud may have been one of the few “special artists” receiving a salary. He’d initially worked for the New York Illustrated News. His reputation established, in January 1862, Harper’s Weekly hired him away from the News probably by offering him a guaranteed income.

The comradeship shared by those in the Bohemian Brigade was forged from all its members having endured the hardship and dangers of campaigning. Though they often developed close friendships with others in the retinue, these friendships never interfered with the desire to “publish first.” When facts were lacking, some writers stooped to concocting outlandish narratives which they sent in as “exclusives.” These fabrications often enraged the very officers whose generosity they depended on for their food and lodging. On one occasion, Maj. Gen. William Tecumseh Sherman became so exasperated by a particularly outrageous use of “alternative facts” that he tried the miscreant for “espionage.” The “Old Snapping Turtle,” Maj. Gen. George G. Meade, had a reporter of the Philadelphia Inquirer tied to his saddle backwards and driven out of camp while the band serenaded him with “The Rogues March.”

“Special artists” needed a minimum of materials for their work. Sketchpads and drawing implements were stowed in their saddlebags while riding and in a flat rectangular case hung over the shoulder when on foot. The mobility this afforded them wasn’t only a matter of convenience. There were occasions when being able to travel fast and light meant the difference between life and death. In October 1863, Harper’s ran an account written by Alfred Waud describing such an instance: “I did not get dry for two days and was shot at in the bargain, at Raccoon Ford, where I unconsciously left the cover and became a target for about twenty sharp-shooters. Luckily, I was not touched; but I did some tall riding to get out of the way.”

Three months earlier he’d performed the sad duty of burying a very good friend who’d not been so lucky. Lynde W. Buckingham, a reporter for the New York Herald, was traveling to Washington to file his report on the recent cavalry fight at Aldie when he was fired on by a party of Mosby’s¹ rangers. Buckingham lost control of his horse. As it careened down a steep slope, it stumbled throwing him from the saddle. Union pickets discovered his unconscious body and carried it to an aid station, where he died having fractured his skull.

Enemy fire was not the most serious risk a “special” faced. During the Civil War, three of every four deaths were caused by disease. While covering the Peninsula Campaign in the summer of 1862, Alfred Waud barely survived a fever — probably malaria. After his recovery, he described his affliction, “… I was down with an attack of the bilious remittent fever brought on by exposure to the damned climate in cussed swamps &c. For a month I could scarcely crawl dosed with mercury quinine, iron whiskey &c till I have learned to hate that fluid and cannot smoke without nausea. However I am well and almost as strong as before in which I am lucky, as numbers of the soldiers have died of the same fever.” Writing to his younger brother, William, who was also an artist in Harper’s employ, he goes on to describe the affliction of a comrade, “… three weeks ago he had a sunstroke and fell insensible to the ground while visiting Sickles Brigade. Since that time he has been sick, a low fever having used him up — bad thing to have — (I can tell you) a week ago to be sick, was to fall into the hands of the enemy.”

Theodore R. Davis, another artist in Harper’s employ, defined what he called the duties of a “special artist” as, “Total disregard for personal safety and comfort; an owl-like propensity to sit up all night and a hawky style of vigilance during the day; a capacity for going on short food; willingness to ride any number of miles on horseback for just one sketch, which might have to be finished at night by no better light than that of a fire — this may give an inkling of some of it…”

It’s estimated that during the course of the war, American newspapers printed over 100 million words that “specials” had written. No accompanying figure exists for the engravings produced by these illustrators, but they probably would number fewer than ten thousand. Without the wealth of coverage that the Bohemian Brigade provided, those not directly effected by the war might have wearied of the conflict and opted to withdraw their support. Thanks to this small contingent of newsmen this was prevented from happening and the Union was preserved.

1 Colonel John Singelton Mosby commanded a force of Confederate “partisans” that operated in Virginia’s northern counties.