For the first two years of the American Civil War, supporters of the North seemed to hear almost solely about battle victories by the South.

“You have to imagine how terrified people became when the Confederate army entered into Pennsylvania in June 1863,” historian Michael Kraus said. “So Pittsburgh is in the alert, and what do they do? They decide to build fortifications all around the town.”

Although the enemy troops were at least 150 miles away, quite a formidable distance to cover at the time, some 16,000 residents of the soon-to-be Steel City went to work on what eventually became 37 earthwork defensive positions.

“All men of eligible age were required to help build the forts,” Kraus reported. “All the bars were closed. That was helpful.”

So was the Federal Army of the Potomac’s victory at Gettysburg, which drove the Confederates back across the Mason-Dixon Line for good. As a result, none of the Pittsburgh fortifications turned out to be necessary, although remnants of some — such as Fort Croghan in Stanton Heights, Fort McKeever in the North Side and Fort Mechanic in Mt. Washington — still exist.

As curator of Soldiers and Sailors Memorial Hall and Museum in North Oakland, Kraus is in a particularly authoritative position to address “The Role of Pittsburgh and Western Pennsylvania in the Civil War,” the topic of a recent program he presented for the Richland History Group.

Speaking at Northern Tier Public Library, he presented an engaging narrative detailing some of the people and places involved, mixing regional history and sprinkles of humor with wartime triumph and tragedy.

‘No OSHA around’

On the latter side of the ledger is what occurred at the Allegheny Arsenal in Lawrenceville, built in 1814 primarily for defense and storage purposes. The emphasis shifted to producing ammunition, including the assembly of gunpowder-containing cartridges, during the early stages of the Civil War.

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Public Domain
The entrance to the Allegheny Arsenal in Lawrenceville, the site of an 1862 explosion, is picutred in the early 20th century.

“The arsenal, because there was so much ammunition needed, hired local women to make it. They believed women had better fingers, because they were sewing,” Kraus said. “They had open vats of black gunpowder, where they would take a scoop and shovel it. And you know, things fall on the ground and get messy, and there’s no OSHA around in those days.”

No doubt, the Occupational Safety and Health Administration would have taken exception to the practice of the powder being swept out the door and onto the street.

About 2 p.m. on Sept. 17, 1862, a fire believed to have been started by a spark from a horse’s shoe on the street spread to the arsenal’s interior, causing an explosion that killed 73 women and five men.

Because Antietam, the deadliest one-day battle in American military history, took place in Maryland on Sept. 17, news coverage of the Pittsburgh disaster was relatively scant.

Kraus and some friends visited the site shortly before a paving project sealed the area where the victims once worked.

“We found hundreds of bullets,” he said. “We found, we believe, rings and jewelry from the girls that were killed, because it was right on the spot and it was personal stuff.”

‘An honor code’

Across the Allegheny River stood the Western Penitentiary, which at one point held more than 100 prisoners under the command of the South’s John Hunt Morgan, a notorious raider of Union positions.

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Public Domain
Prisoners of war serving under John Hunt Morgan are pictured in Western Penitentiary circa 1863.

“During that time, there was an honor code, and they were allowed to leave prison and walk around town, and come back,” Kraus said. “They bought new uniforms. They bought boots. They bought pens and paper.”

And apparently, they signed plenty of autographs while they were out and about: “Pittsburgh had its share of Confederate believers.”

‘Traded for a Confederate officer’

Pittsburgh also had its share of stray canines, and one of them of them gained enduring fame as Dog Jack, as he was christened with his adoption by members of the Niagara Fire Company in the Strip District.

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U.S. Library of Congress’ Prints and Photographs Division
Dog Jack inspired a 21st-century book and feature film.

“When the war came, it wasn’t uncommon for a fire company to enlist in its entirety as a company in the war. So they went into the 102nd Pennsylvania, and they took Jack with them,” Strauss said, reporting that he was wounded in battle twice and captured by the enemy. “One time he escaped. One time he was traded for a Confederate officer.”

The firefighters gave Jack a silver collar that may have prompted a miscreant to take it while doing the dog harm.

“His whereabouts are unknown,” Strauss explained. “The collar has never surfaced at any museum or in the collecting world.”

But his memory lives on with “Dog Jack,” aa 2010 film based on the book of the same name by Florence W. Biros.

‘One telegram’

The memory of Andrew Carnegie (1835-1919) lives on, of course, with everything from a suburban Pittsburgh borough to libraries, museums and a renowned concert hall named after him.

“During the early days of the war, in April of 1861, he sent one telegram from Harrisburg to D.C., something about having troops that were going to be coming to Washington,” Kraus said. “Because he sent that one telegram, he thought of himself as a Civil War veteran.”

As such, he aligned himself with the U.S. Military Telegraph Corps, established to maintain communications between the federal government and Union Army commanders.

“At Soldiers and Sailors, we have this beautiful giant bronze plaque with portraits all around it of telegraph officers from Allegheny County. He’s the central figure in it. It was presented by him to Soldiers and Sailors, and it was made by Tiffany and Co.,” Kraus reported. “So it’s a good thing to have Andrew Carnegie as a friend.”

More lore

Other Civil War-era Western Pennsylvania personalities he profiled include:

Thomas Algeo Rowley (1808-92), a Pittsburgh native who commanded a division at the beginning of the Battle of Gettysburg. At the time, he suffered from a bad case of boils.

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Public Domain
Thomas Algeo Rowley (1808-92) commanded a division at the beginning of the Battle of Gettysburg.

“He was taking medicines, which would have been opiates, for that,” Kraus said. “He’s riding back and forth and falls off his horse. He’s giving incoherent commands, and it was reported that he was drunk and not doing his duty.”

Consequently, Rowley was court martialed.

“He takes time to set the record straight about his reputation, and he’s eventually absolved of those charges. But it was too late,” Kraus explained. “He was never put in command of anything again.”

Thomas Jackson Rodman (1816-71), an Army ordnance officer serving in Pittsburgh.

Pursuing his interest in metallurgy, Rodman experimented at the Fort Pitt Foundry toward producing a more reliable cannon.

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Public Domain
A 15-inch Rodman gun, a cannon named after Thomas Jackson Rodman (1816-71), protects Washington, D.C., during the Civil War.

“Rodman figured out how to chill the metal as it was casting, so it became hard equally. And his guns would last for thousands of rounds, while others might last 2(00) or 300 rounds,” Kraus explained.

John W. Geary (1819-73), a Westmoreland County native who became a major general in charge of an entire corps at Gettysburg.

A few months afterward, he led forces at the Battle of Wauhatchie, around the Tennessee-Georgia line. Edward Geary, his son, was artillery battery commander.

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U.S. Library of Congress’ Prints and Photographs Division
Westmoreland County native John W. Geary (1819-73) served as governor of Pennsylvania after the Civil War.

“When John Geary heard about the fighting out front, the next day he went to survey it,” Kraus said. “It was his son’s battery, and lying beside the gun was his son’s body.”

Although the Gearys’ division was outnumbered, it prevailed, and John went on to serve as governor of Pennsylvania from 1867 until just a few weeks before his death.

Alexander Hays (1819-64), a civil engineer for the city of Pittsburgh who, as a brigadier general, led a division that helped repulse Virginia Gen. George Pickett’s charge, securing a Union victory on the final day of fighting at Gettysburg.

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Public Domain
Alexander Hays (1819-64) distinguished himself at Gettysburg.

“He has his men gather up all the extra rifles they can find, and load them and stash them in these stone breastworks,” Kraus said about Hays’ preparation. “They have a lot of weapons, and when they fire, the guys in the front pass them back to reload them. That’s brilliant.”

Hays died in action less than a year later, on the first day of the Battle of the Wilderness in Virginia.

Jacob Sweitzer (1821-88), born in Brownsville, Fayette County, and a veteran of Gettysburg. Sweitzer and his troops reinforced and helped temporarily stabilize the Union defensive line on the second day of fighting.

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Public Domain
Jacob Sweitzer (1821-88) and his troops reinforced and helped temporarily stabilize the Union defensive line on the second day of fighting at Getttysburg.

“We at Soldiers and Sailors own the brigade flag that was carried beside Sweitzer when he was at the Battle of Gettysburg. That’s a marker that a general has to identify his position. And it’s full of bullet holes,” Kraus said. “That kind of gives you a sense of what’s happening out on a battlefield.”

James Negley (1826-1901), an early appointee as brigadier general in the Pennsylvania Militia.

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U.S. Library of Congress’ Prints and Photographs Division
James Scott Negley (1826-1901) was appointed brigadier general in the Pennsylvania Militia in April 1861.

“He gets a bad reputation at Stones River,” Kraus said, referencing a battle in Tennessee that had the highest percentage of casualties on both sides, “and he spends a lot of time trying to clear up the muck about a mistake that he was supposed to have created. But he didn’t.”

Actually, the North won the battle, and Negley went on to serve in Congress after the war. He is buried in Allegheny Cemetery in Lawrenceville.

Marie Brose Tepe Leonard (1834-1901), a vivandière, or canteen keeper, who served with the 27th and 114th Pennsylvania Infantry Regiments. Following the war, she owned a candy shop on Mt. Washington.

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Public Domain
Marie Brose Tepe Leonard (1834-1901) earned the Kearny Cross for meritorious service.

“French Mary” was one of only two female recipients of the Kearny Cross, presented to Union soldiers for meritorious action, although she refused the award.

William Montgomery, a teenager from Pittsburgh, was killed by a cannon shell on April 9, 1865, at the Battle of Appomattox Court House.

“He is among the last soldiers to die in the Civil War,” Kraus said, and in fact, his unit claimed he was the final one.

Jacob Soles (1845-1936) of North Versailles was serving in Washington, D.C., as a Pennsylvania Light Artillery private when he attended the play “Our American Cousin” at Ford’s Theater on April 14, 1865. Another audience member, of course, was President Abraham Lincoln.

“When Lincoln was shot, a cry went out for help, and he and a few of the soldiers went upstairs,” Kraus said, including Soles, who helped carry the president to the house across the street where he died the following day.

The last living person to participate in transporting the wounded Lincoln, Soles is buried in Monongahela Cemetery in North Braddock.

For more information about the Richland History Group, visit richlandhistorygroup.wordpress.com. More about Soldiers and Sailors Memorial Hall and Museum is available at www.soldiersandsailorshall.org.