





January spent time at Andersonville, where overcrowded, malnourished and unsheltered inmates suffered from cholera and chronic diarrhea; the entire surface of the camp "became saturated with putrid animal matter." (HESSELTINE 126) January's photograph was displayed at the museum, and an account of his hospitalization at Andersonville prison in February 1865 was printed on the back:
I was stricken down by an attack of "swamp fever," and for three weeks I remained in a delirious condition; the fever abated and reason returned. I soon learned from the surgeon, after a hasty examination, that I was a victim of scurvy and gangrene, and was removed to the gangrene hospital. My feet and ankles above the joints, presented a livid, lifeless appearance, and soon the flesh began to slough off, and the surgeon, with a brutal oath, said I would soon die. But I was determined to live, and begged him to cut my feet off...He still refused, and believing that my life depended on the removal of my feet, I secured an old pocket-knife (I have it now in my possession) and cut through the decaying flesh and severed the tendons. The feet were unjointed leaving the bones protruding without a covering of flesh for five inches.
John W. January (ICHi-31102) and his Andersonville amputation.




The Lincoln relics, "rightly called 'the' exhibit -- there is but one," powerfully reinforced the imagery of blood, pain, and sacrifice in the Libby Prison hospital room. Displayed together with shrunken "Inca" heads, the assassination relics were a source of fascination to the visitors:
Mr. Gunther also possesses a different line of Lincolniana, which might be called his chamber of horrors, and which refer to the assassination...(LP CHRONICLE, OCTOBER, MARCH 1895)
Medical care was primitive in Civil War America. Amputation was the most common procedure for treating wounds, and thousands of soldiers perished from contagious diseases. Prisoners in Richmond went to the hospital to die.
Libby Prison War Museum manager John Ransom described care of the sick at Belle Isle:
The sick are taken out every morning and either sent over to the city or kept in the hospital just outside the prison and on the island. None admitted unless carried out in blankets and so far gone there is not much chance of recovery. Medical attendance is scarce. (RANSOM 9)
I found my old friend McCabe quite ill and in a very neglected condition and totally uncared or provided for. Seeing the wretched and inhuman state he was in I proceeded at once to cleanse his person from head to feet, which was literally swarming with vermin that were really eating the flesh off his bones...but for my personal careful nursing and constant watching over him, he would have been starved and eaten up by the vermin in the hospital...Whilst engaged in nursing Chaplain McCabe I witnessed more heart rending scenes...In going to the cookhouse one day passing along in front of the "Dead House" in the prison yard -- I noticed the movement of the foot of a person piled up in the tier of dead bodies. I halted a moment saw it move again, when I proceeded hurridly to remove the bodies piled upon it. Taking out the man who was still living -- placed him on a cot in the hospital -- cleaned him up and cared for him until he was sent to Annapolis for exchange...This man had given up -- lost heart -- and preferred death, as he afterwards told me, to the treatment he had received.
Chicago was rocked by the Pullman railroad strike of 1894 and the arrival of nearly 2,000 soldiers under the command of General Nelson Miles to maintain order in the city. Miles exaggerated the state of affairs, reporting plots by anarchists, communists, and foreigners to his superiors. The assassination of Chicago mayor Harrison Carter during the waning days of the 1894 Columbian Exposition added to the sense of urban disorder. (SMITH 238) Mementos from the execution of Lincoln's accused assassins in the Libby Prison War Museum reminded visitors that military force could prevail over "dangerous" elements of society.







See Gunther's "Inca" head by clicking on the catalog description to the left. WARNING: This image may not be appropriate for more sensitive viewers.
Powell described prison conditions at Libby Prison and delivered a message on behalf of his fellow inmates together with a small bone knife carved during his captivity:
Say to Father Abraham that in all our sufferings endured in close confinement we remain loyal to the flag. And if it is necessary that we shall remain to maintain the honor, principles and dignity of the Government we are willing to suffer even unto death. But if our continuance in prison is but the result of mere technicalities in the rulings of the Commission of Exchange involving no essential principle, we ask and demand of you -- as the President -- that in the name of humanity that you shall interfere and order our exchange...[We] sang the Battle Hymn of the Republic as they used to sing it in Libby Prison -- as we never sang it before...the effect was electrical and grand beyond description... The president's heart was touched -- great tear drops chased each other rapidly down his furrowed cheeks, gaining self possession he replied with deep emotions, in child like honesty and simplicity. "God knows that their continuance in prison is purely and solely a question of principle and national honor" and quietly sank into his seat.
Abraham Lincoln, Anthony Berger for Matthew Brady, February 1864 (ICHi 22089); flag attributed to Abraham Lincoln's temporary coffin en route to the White House (CHS 1920.1689).
