civil war
It was a place no one wanted to go…but no one who went there was given a choice. On February 24, 1864, when the first Union prisoners arrived at Andersonville prison, it was still under construction in southern Georgia. Before long, the prison went from brand new to infamous, as nearly a quarter of its inmates died while in captivity. No wonder it was a place no one wanted to go. The warden, Henry Wirz, was at the top of the “problem list.” Wirz was executed after the war for the brutality and mistreatment that occurred under his watch. His methods of abuse of prisoners were absolutely horrific.
Camp Sumter, better known as Andersonville, was built after the prisoner exchange system between the North and South broke down in 1863 over disputes about the treatment of Black soldiers. Thrown together quickly using slave labor, the stockade sat in the Georgia woods near a railroad but far from the fighting. Covering 16 acres, it was meant to have wooden barracks, but skyrocketing lumber prices stalled construction, leaving Union prisoners under the open sky in makeshift “shebangs” cobbled from wood scraps and blankets. A nearby stream started out as their water source, but within months it was fouled by human waste.
Andersonville was designed to hold 10,000 men…a shockingly large amount. Nevertheless, within just six months, over three times that number were crammed inside its walls. That was the least of the problems Andersonville Prison had. The prison soon became famous for its extreme overcrowding, lack of supplies, and staggering death toll. From February 1864 to May 1865, around 45,000 Union soldiers were confined there, and nearly 13,000 died from disease, malnutrition, and exposure. In fact, over 100 men died each day during the worst periods. By 1890, fewer than 1,000 survivors remained. Andersonville prison camp was one of the grimmest places of the American Civil War. Erosion along the creek banks created a swamp that took up much of the compound. Food rations were scarce, and at times, half the prisoners were sick. Some guards mistreated inmates, and there was frequent violence between different prisoner groups. The story of Andersonville is a 
stark reminder of the human cost of war and the resilience of the human spirit in the face of some of the most overwhelming hardships. Andersonville stood out as the worst of the many grim Civil War prisons on both sides. Wirz ultimately faced the consequences for the cruelty there, being executed after the war ended.
Anyone familiar with the Civil War knows the Union emerged victorious, but that doesn’t mean they won every battle. Few wars see completely one-sided battlefield results, and the Battle of Fredericksburg was a clear example. On December 11, 1862, Ambrose Burnside, newly appointed commander of the Army of the Potomac, set out to cross the Rappahannock River in Virginia with more than 120,000 troops. Delays meant the crossing wasn’t completed until December 13th, when they faced Robert E. Lee’s 80,000…strong Confederate Army at Fredericksburg. With 200,000 soldiers engaged, it was the largest troop concentration of the Civil War…and a devastating loss for the Union. Nearly 13,000 Union soldiers were killed or wounded, compared to about 5,000 Confederate casualties.
People might think that Burnside was not much of a commander, but it should be mentioned that this was the first time he had commanded an army. He was a graduate of West Point, had risen quickly up the ranks, and had seen action in several battles prior to this fateful day. Abraham Lincoln had approached him about taking control of the Union’s Army. He hesitated, partly out of loyalty to the current commander and former classmate, and partly because he was unsure of his own ability. In the end the prior commander’s failure assured that he was on the way out, and rather than have Major General Joseph Hooker, a fierce rival, pass him up, Burnside accepted the commission on November 7, 1862.
Knowing he needed the element of surprise, Burnside devised a plan to face Lee’s Army of Northern Virginia at Fredericksburg. His idea was to move his troops to the banks of the Rappahannock River, quickly assemble pontoon bridges, and cross over to catch the enemy off guard. Lincoln admired the boldness of the plan and approved it, though he doubted its chances of success. Burnside moved swiftly, arriving at the river by November 19, 1862. Whether the plan could have worked remains unknown, as some Union generals, including Winfield Scott Hancock, believed the river could be crossed without boats and failed to send them, urging Burnside to proceed anyway. Convinced the river was too swift and deep, Burnside refused. They ended up waiting a week for the boats…right under the watchful eyes of Confederate scouts.
The element of surprise was gone. As soon as they started building the pontoon bridges, the Confederate Army opened fire. Burnside responded with a massive bombardment of Fredericksburg, marking the first time a city was shelled in the Civil War. The Union held off the Confederates just long enough to finish the bridges and rush across the river. Two days later, Burnside ordered his left flank to strike Lee’s right, hoping to force Lee to shift troops south and leave the center and Marye’s Heights exposed. For a while, it seemed like the plan might work—General George Meade broke through “Stonewall” Jackson’s line…but the Union didn’t send enough reinforcements, allowing the Confederates to launch a successful counterattack. Lee kept James Longstreet’s men in place at Marye’s Heights, where they crushed Union forces. Burnside lost eight soldiers for every Confederate killed. Though he briefly considered another assault, the battle was over. The Union suffered nearly 13,000 casualties compared to fewer than 5,000 for the Confederates, and they had to regroup before making another attempt.
Burnside was an unpopular commander, partly because he tended to rush into action without much planning. His insecurities ultimately led to his downfall. While preparing his next attack, some of his officers went to President Lincoln with their concerns, prompting Lincoln to call it off. On January 20, 1863, Burnside was ready to try again, but delays with the pontoon bridges and worsening weather got in the way. What had been a dry month turned rainy, leaving roads nearly impassable. Troops who had once marched 40 miles a day to Fredericksburg now struggled to make even a mile. For three days, they slogged through what became known as the “Mud March,” taunted along the way by Confederate forces watching from dry ground. Five days after it began, the offensive was over…along with Burnside’s brief six-week command of the Army of the Potomac. Lincoln quickly replaced him with the very man Burnside had feared: Joseph Hooker.
Fredericksburg marked a low point for the North in the war, while the South celebrated. Burnside might have been better off sticking to his side career in weapon design, which he returned to after retiring in 1853. In 1856, he earned his first patent for a .54 caliber breech-loading firearm. Impressed by its performance, the U.S. Army gave the Bristol Firearm Company in Rhode Island, where Burnside worked, a $100,000 contract. But the deal was abruptly canceled under suspicious circumstances, allegedly due to a rival munitions company bribing the army ordnance department to change suppliers. Burnside’s misfortune continued the next year with a failed Congressional run, followed by a fire that destroyed the Bristol factory, forcing him to sell his patents. Others profited when, at the start of the Civil War, demand for his invention surged. By 1865, over 55,000 carbines had been ordered, making the Burnside one of the Union’s most popular weapons—second only to the Sharps carbine and my ancestor Christopher Spencer’s Spencer Carbine.
Burnside eventually found his claim to fame, but it wasn’t for war or weaponry. He sported facial hair in a style very unusual for the era…a bushy beard and moustache paired with a clean-shaven chin. Burnside’s distinctive whiskers were originally named for him…named “burnsides,” but over time, the name was flipped to become “sideburns.”
The Civil War’s Battle of Shiloh left 23,000 casualties. It was a horrible battle, but something was about to happen with the wounded men…something no one expected and something they had no way to explain…at the time anyway. While in the hospital, some wounded soldiers began emitting a faint greenish-blue glow. Can you just imagine the thoughts going through the heads of those doctors? Then, something even more strange started happening. While the cause of the glow was unknown at the time, doctors observed that those with the mysterious glow tended to heal more quickly. That earned the greenish-blue glow the name of “Angel’s Glow” and the name stuck. I’m sure the doctors soon started praying for every wounded soldier to receive the strange glow.
“Angel’s Glow” would remain a mystery for nearly 140 years. Finally, the mystery behind this weird fact from history was solved. In 2001, a high school student named Bill Martin and his microbiologist mother, Phyllis, investigated the phenomenon and found it was likely caused by a bacterium called Photorhabdus Luminescens. This glowing bacterium may have even helped the soldiers recover by consuming other harmful bacteria or pathogens they encountered on the battlefield. Photorhabdus luminescens, formerly known as Xenorhabdus luminescens, is a Gammaproteobacterium in the Morganellaceae family and a deadly pathogen to insects.
There are no contemporary accounts of this phenomenon, meaning that it may be “a myth or that conditions including low temperatures, low lighting, abundance of blood, time on battlefield, presence of specific vegetation, presence of rain and humidity, and the time to organize medical evacuation would prevent the phenomenon from recurring in current conditions. Photorhabdus Luminescens’ genome has been sequenced. It contains a MACPF protein, however, this molecule appears non-lytic. It also contains the gcvB RNA gene which 
encodes a small non-coding RNA involved in the regulation of a number of amino acid transport systems as well as amino acid biosynthetic genes. A deletion of the hfq gene causes loss of secondary metabolite production.” That doesn’t seem so odd when you consider that many records, especially those that seemed inconsequential or maybe too farfetched to be believable, might have been overlooked or hidden. Still, I would think that the doctors might have talked to other doctors to see if they had ever heard of such a thing. Or maybe they didn’t, because they didn’t want to look like they had some kind of “battle fatigue” or PTSD as we know it today. Whatever the case may be, the phenomenon was not well publicized, yet somehow the story did survive the Civil War. I guess there were a few people who talked.
In October 1859, a man named John Brown led a group of armed abolitionists in an attack on the US military arsenal at Harpers Ferry. Harpers Ferry used to be a part of Virginia, but it is now located in the eastern panhandle of West Virginia, where the Shenandoah and Potomac rivers meet, hence the need for a ferry. The raid was meant to be the first step in a detailed plan to create an independent refuge for freed slaves in the mountains of Maryland and Virginia. It didn’t exactly end up that way. During the raid, Brown was captured. He was then convicted of treason and hanged. It was thought that the worst of the uprising might be over, but the raid actually heightened fears of slave uprisings among the white Southerners and escalated the growing tension between the Northern and Southern states which led up to the American Civil War that raged between 1861 and 1865.
John Brown was born in Connecticut in 1800 and raised in Ohio. He came from a staunchly Calvinist and anti-slavery family. Brown spent much of his life struggling with failed businesses, finally declaring bankruptcy in his early 40s and facing over 20 lawsuits. However, in 1837, his life took a drastic turn when he attended an abolition meeting in Cleveland. Brown was deeply inspired, and he pledged to dedicate himself to ending slavery. By 1848, Brown was launching plans to spark an insurrection.
In the 1850s, Brown took five of his sons to join the fight against pro-slavery forces in Kansas in the battle for 
the territory. After pro-slavery men attacked the abolitionist town of Lawrence on May 21, 1856, Brown sought revenge. A few days later, he and his sons set out to raid cabins along Pottawatomie Creek, killing five men with broadswords and sparking a summer of guerrilla warfare in the area. One of Brown’s sons lost his life during the conflict.
The death of his son only served to further anger Brown, and by 1857, he returned to the East and began raising money to carry out his vision of a mass uprising of slaves. Even with the loss of his son, Brown secured the backing of six prominent abolitionists, known as the “Secret Six.” They assembled an invasion force, and his “army” quickly grew to include more than 20 men. Several black men joined Brown and three of his sons. The group rented a Maryland farm near Harpers Ferry and began to prepare for the assault.
On the night of October 16, 1859, Brown and his group seized the federal arsenal. Some of his men took several hostages, including a few enslaved individuals. News of the raid spread quickly, and by the next day, Brown and his men were surrounded. On October 18, US Marines, led by Colonel Robert E Lee and Lieutenant J 
E B Stuart, stormed the arsenal. Brown was wounded and captured, while 10 of his men, including two of his sons, were killed. Brown was tried for treason and murder in Virginia. He was found guilty on November 2nd. The 59-year-old abolitionist was executed on December 2, 1859. Before his execution, he gave his guard a note that read, “I, John Brown, am now quite certain that the crimes of this guilty land will never be purged away but with blood.” The raid definitely failed, but it served to heighten tensions between the North and South and influence the 1860 presidential election. It also proved that further compromise was impossible and became a key factor leading to the Civil War.
The life of a spy is always filled with risk, but sometimes the risk has nothing to do with spying. At the start of the Civil War, Rose O’Neal Greenhow, a Maryland native, resided in Washington, DC, with her four children. Her late husband had been wealthy and well-connected in the capital, and Greenhow used her influence to support the Southern cause. Collaborating with Lieutenant Colonel Thomas Jordan, she created an intricate spy network in Washington.
Greenhow’s prowess became evident with the operation’s first success. Greenhow obtained information about General Irvin McDowell’s army movements just before the First Battle of Bull Run in July 1861. She instructed a female courier to deliver messages from Greenhow to Confederate General Pierre G T Beauregard at his headquarters in Fairfax, Virginia. Beauregard later stated that this intelligence prompted him to request reinforcements from General Joseph Johnston’s nearby command. The actions contributed to the Confederates’ significant victory over the Union in the war’s first major battle. The day after the battle, Confederate President Jefferson Davis sent Greenhow a letter of gratitude.
As careful as she was, federal authorities quickly uncovered the security leaks anyway. They soon traced them back to Greenhow’s residence, and she was put under house arrest. Before long, other suspected female spies were also detained and joined her there. The house soon became known as “Fort Greenhow” and continued to supply intelligence to the Rebels, despite the house arrest. During a visit from her close friend, Massachusetts Senator Henry Wilson, he inadvertently shared crucial information, which Greenhow passed along to her operatives. He had no idea he was being deceived and plied for information. After five months, Greenhow and her youngest daughter, “Little Rose” were moved to the Old Capitol Prison in Washington, probably in an effort to quell the information leaks. She remained there until June 1862, after which she was exiled to the South. Her husband had been killed in an accident. Greenlow’s other daughters, were no longer in the home. Florence had married. Gertrude had passed away. She sent Leila to live with Florence, leaving just her and Little Rose.
Choosing safer accommodations for her daughter, Greenhow and Little Rose chose to spend the next two years in England, where she penned a memoir titled “My Imprisonment” while they traveled to England and France, drumming up support for the Southern cause. She then decided to return to the Confederacy to contribute more directly to the war effort. Greenhow and her daughter boarded the British blockade-runner, Condor. Coming into Cape Hatteras, the Condor was intercepted by the USS Niphon off Cape Hatteras, North Carolina. 
The Yankee ship forced the Condor aground near Fort Fischer. Greenhow, who was carrying Confederate dispatches and $2,000 in gold, demanded to be taken ashore. She boarded a small lifeboat, but it overturned in the rough surf. The weight of the gold dragged her under the surface, where she drowned. Her body washed ashore the following morning. She was given a hero’s funeral and buried in Oakdale Cemetery in Wilmington, North Carolina, wrapped in the Confederate flag.
When pioneer, August Scherneckau, arrived in Oregon, shortly after the Civil War, he bought a farm in the north central part of the state. Let’s face it, Scherneckau is not an easy name to pronounce, and not surprisingly the Indians pronounced it Shaniko. The name stuck, not for August, but for the town that would likely have born his name, had it not been mispronounced, and so the town of Shaniko, Oregon was born.
The Scherneckau ranch was located along the stage route from The Dalles to central Oregon, so it quickly became a stage station. On May 23, 1879, the first post office was set up there, with August Scherneckau serving as the initial postmaster. Named Cross Hollows after the area’s unique topography, the post office operated for just eight years before shutting down on May 27, 1887. In 1900, some businessmen established an official community in The Dalles as the endpoint of the Columbia Southern Railroad. The station became a hub for gathering the vast wool production from central Oregon, a role it held until the 1940s. On March 31, 1900, the Shaniko post office was opened, and the Shaniko Hotel, initially called the Columbia Southern Hotel, was constructed the same year. Built with 18-inch-thick walls and handmade bricks, the hotel is now listed on the National Register of Historic Places. Also in 1900, a 10,000-gallon wooden water tower was built. Water was pumped from nearby Cross Hollow Canyon, piped through wooden systems, and stored in two large wooden tanks. Built in 1901, the three-room Shaniko School served kindergarten through high school students until 1946. After years of disrepair, it was restored in the 1990s and now functions as a community hall. It’s also one of the most photographed historic school buildings in Oregon. In 1901, Shaniko was officially incorporated. By that time, the town boasted a bank, two blacksmith shops, a two-story city hall housing the fire station and jail, three hotels, two newspapers, a post office, five saloons, two stores, and numerous other buildings. Church services took place in the schoolhouse.
Wool quickly became the commodity of the time, and Shaniko became a major trade center for the wool produced in central and eastern Oregon. Within a year, two financiers from The Dalles, B F Laughlin, and W Lord, constructed a huge wool warehouse in Shaniko, which was the largest in Oregon at the time. In 1903 Shaniko was referred to as the “Wool Capital of the World” after three wool sales brought in the largest total sale of wool on record. The next year, sheepmen sold an estimated five million dollars’ worth of wool to buyers in Shaniko.
In 1910, Shaniko boasted a population of 600, with what appeared to be a promising future ahead. But in 1911, the Oregon Trunk Railroad, connecting Bend, Oregon (70 miles south) to the Columbia Gorge, started diverting business from the more remote Shaniko. Then, a fire destroyed much of the downtown area, and there were no funds for rebuilding. While homesteaders, ranchers, and sheepmen remained in the region, Shaniko began to decline. These days, this near ghost town has only 20-25 residents but offers much to explore. There are still massive sheep sheds from that era and several Old West-style buildings with authentic boardwalks and false fronts. Many people consider Shaniko the best ghost town in Oregon. In addition to the other various buildings, there is still the old water tower, the City Hall complete with an old jail, the school, and the post office. The Shaniko Hotel is the town’s biggest attraction, mostly because it was restored to its former grandeur around 2000 by Robert Pamplin Jr. The hotel features an antique shop, the history of many families 
who once lived in Shaniko, and a café with home cooking said to be the best in the area. Unfortunately, due to a water rights dispute with the town council, the hotel closed again in 2009. The old Shaniko Livery Barn is now a museum featuring several antique cars in their original state. Next door is the Shaniko Sage Museum. All in all, it’s really a quaint little almost ghost town.
The Civil War was a bloody war that threatened to divide the United States. North fought against South, and brother fought against brother. In any war, fear is a constant companion, even for the bravest of soldiers. During the Battle of Mechanicsville, Virginia, Confederate General Robert E. Lee Army of Northern Virginia launched an attack on Union General George B. McClellan’s Army of the Potomac, marking the start of the Seven Days’ Battles. Despite suffering significant casualties and failing to achieve a decisive victory over the forces, the battle did succeed in unnerving McClellan. Over the course of the following week, Lee pushed McClellan from the outskirts of Richmond Virginia, back to his base along the James River.
Lee had replaced Joseph Johnston on June 1, 1862, and this was his first battle as commander of the army. Johnston had been severely wounded at the Battle of Fair Oaks, and Lee was eager to show his prowess. He saw this as his best chance. McClellan had been on the offensive, but his operation had stalled about five miles from Richmond. Nevertheless, his army was still there until late June. While McClellan was regrouping outside of Richmond, General J.E.B. Stuart and his Rebel cavalry made a reconnaissance ride around McClellan’s force. Following their ride, the spies brought back information that indicated that McClellan’s right flank was “in the air,” which means unprotected by natural barriers. On June 23rd, Lee told his commanders that he was going to attack the flank, which was occupied by Fitz John Porter’s V corps. They saw that Porter’s group was separated from the rest of the Union army by the Chickahominy River. Lee’s plan could have been viewed as risky, because it meant leaving a skeleton force to face the rest of McClellan’s army south of the Chickahominy River. It was an early indication of Lee’s bold and daring style.
The plan was probably a good one originally, but it quickly fell apart. McClellan had been alerted to the vulnerability of his flanks by Stuart’s ride two weeks prior, which had apparently not been as secret as they thought. So, McClellan shored up his left flank and moved Porter’s men to high ground with a deep creek in front of them. The new location gave them much better security. Lee’s plan had called for several smaller forces to overwhelm Porter’s men, but it required precise timing. Unfortunately, for Lee, when the assault came, the coordination did not materialize. A major problem was General Thomas J. “Stonewall” Jackson’s corps, which was slow to move into place. Jackson was just back from his brilliant campaign in the Shenandoah Valley, but 
didn’t show the same vigor and speed at Mechanicsville.
Lee had planned to bring about 55,000 troops against Porter. Unfortunately, because of the mistakes made by Jackson and others, there were only about 11,000. Vastly undermanned, Lee lost 1,475 men in the battle, while the Union losses were only 361. Nevertheless, Lee had stunned McClellan, who then began to fall back away from Richmond. Lee continued to hammer on McClellan for the next week, and the Yankees had to retreat to the James River. For some reason, McClellan did not threaten Richmond again. Instead, and he eventually sailed his army back to Washington, D.C. in what could be viewed a retreat.
The CSS Alabama was a Confederate warship, built in an English shipyard and sold to the Confederates in 1861, the Alabama was a state-of-the-art ship. It was 220 feet long, with a speed of up to 13 knots. During the Civil War in the United States, CSS Alabama was used as a commerce raider. The cruiser was equipped with a machine shop and could carry enough coal to steam for 18 days, but its sails could greatly extend that time. Under its captain, Raphael Semmes, CSS Alabama prowled the world for three years, capturing United States commercial ships. It sailed around the globe, usually working out of the West Indies, but taking prizes and bungling Union shipping in the Caribbean, off Newfoundland, and around the coast of South America. In January 1863, CSS Alabama sunk a Union warship, USS Hatteras, after drawing it out of Galveston, Texas. The Union navy spent an enormous amount of time and effort trying to track down CSS Alabama.
The ship was designed to disrupt Union merchant shipping, and over its two-year career, CSS Alabama captured or destroyed more than 60 Union vessels, making it one of the most successful of the Confederate ships. Nevertheless, as history has proven, no ship is unsinkable. For CSS Alabama, the end came in 1864 when it was sunk by the USS Kearsarge off the coast of Cherbourg, France, in a dramatic naval battle. The wreck of CSS Alabama was not discovered until 1984. It remains a significant historical artifact to this day.
The demise of CSS Alabama came in a rather unusual way. The ship had sailed around South America, across the Pacific, and then docked in India in 1864. By the summer, Captain Semmes knew that after three years and 75,000 miles his vessel needed overhauling in a modern shipyard. So, he sailed around Africa to France, to request dry dock repairs. The French denied him access to a dry dock. With no other option, Semmes moved 
the ship out of Cherbourg Harbor and immediately found the USS Kearsarge waiting. I’m sure he knew that his fate was sealed at that point. His ship was not in good shape, and he was unprepared for the upcoming fight. In a spectacular battle, the USS Kearsarge bested and sank CSS Alabama. During its career, it is said that CSS Alabama captured 66 ships and was hunted by more than 20 Federal warships.
As one side of a war begins to lose the battle to the other side, the army of the losing side, really begins to weaken. While the Battle of Bentonville was not the end of the Civil War, it was on the downhill run to the end. On March 19, 1865, at the Battle of Bentonville, North Carolina, Confederate General Joseph Johnston made a desperate attempt to stop Union General William T Sherman’s drive through the Carolinas. Unfortunately for Johnston, his bedraggled force couldn’t stop the advance of Sherman’s mighty army. Sherman’s men were well supplied and strong.
Sherman had taken a month off following his famous March to the Sea in late 1864. He stopped for a little rest and relaxation in Savannah, Georgia. Following his time off, Sherman turned north into the Carolinas. As he went, he literally destroyed everything in his path. It was his plan to demoralize the South and so bring the end of the war. Sherman left Savannah with 60,000 men divided into two wings, capturing Columbia and South Carolina, in February. Then he continued towards Goldsboro, North Carolina, where he planned to meet up with another army coming from the coast. His plan was to march to Petersburg, Virginia, where he would join General Ulysses S Grant and crush the army of Robert E Lee, the largest remaining Confederate force.
It was Sherman’s assumption that the Rebel forces in the Carolinas were too thinly spread to offer any much resistance, but Johnston had managed to put 17,000 soldiers together and proceeded to attack one of Sherman’s wings at Bentonville on March 19th. The attack was a surprise to the Yankees, and for a time, they were driven back. Then, a Union counterattack halted the advance and darkness halted the fighting. The next day, Johnston managed to establish a strong defensive position, where he waited and hoped for a Yankee assault. As more Union troops arrived, Sherman had a nearly three to one advantage over Johnston. When a Union force threatened to cut off the Rebel’s only line of retreat on March 21st, Johnston withdrew northward.
In the battles, the Union lost 194 men who were killed, 1,112 who were wounded, and they had 221 missing. The Confederates lost some 240 men who were killed, 1,700 who were wounded, and they had 1,500 missing. Johnston wrote to Lee concerning Sherman, that, he couldn’t do anything more than annoy him. Knowing that he had lost, just one month later, Johnston surrendered his army to Sherman.
Over the years, a number of automobile makers have come and gone. Their technology likely became outdated, and the next big thing came on the scene. Such was the fate of the makers of the Studebaker on March 18, 1933. At that point, they were heavily in debt, and it seemed there was no way out. The company went into receivership. As sometimes happens, the company’s president, Albert Erskine, resigned and later that year committed suicide. The company rebounded…for a time, and perhaps if Erskine had lived, he could have brought it back to life again. In the end, Studebaker eventually rebounded from its financial troubles, but it could not sustain itself again, and so, shut down the assembly line, and abandoned the automobile business entirely in 1966.
Studebaker Corporation started up in 1852, not as an automobile company, but to make wagons. Brothers Henry and Clement Studebaker opened a blacksmith shop in South Bend, Indiana that year. Their work was of good quality, and they eventually became a leading manufacturer of horse-drawn wagons, even suppling wagons to the US Army during the Civil War. As with the auto industry, the wagon industry began to fold, so Studebaker Corporation entered America’s blossoming auto industry, launching an electric car in 1902 and a gas-powered vehicle two years later that was marketed under the name Studebaker-Garford. Who knew that they could have actually been s forward thinking in 1902. Electric cars have been around longer than we might 
have thought. Studebaker partnered with other automakers and began selling gas-powered cars under its own name in 1913, while continuing to make wagons until 1920, when that market dried up.
Erskine was born in 1871 and took over as president of Studebaker Corporation 1915. Under his leadership, the company acquired luxury automaker Pierce-Arrow in the late 1920s and launched the affordably priced but short-lived Erskine and Rockne lines, which was named for the famous University of Notre Dame football coach, before his death in a plane crash in 1931. Rockne was paid to give talks at auto conventions and dealership events. The Great Depression hit Studebaker Corporation hard and in March 1933 it was forced into bankruptcy. Erskine was also hit hard by the Great Depression, and his great personal debt and health problems caused him to kill himself on July 1, 1933.
After Erskine’s death, the company went under new management, and they were able to get the company back on track. The Rockne brand in July 1933, and Pierce-Arrow was sold as well. In January 1935, the new Studebaker Corporation was incorporated. Raymond Loewy began working for Studebaker in the late 1930s. Loewy was a French-born industrial designer. He created iconic and popular models including the bullet-nosed 1953 Starliner and Starlight coupes and the 1963 Avanti sports coupe. It looked like the company might pull out of their funk.
Unfortunately, by the mid-1950s, Studebaker had to face the fact that they just didn’t have the resources of its Big Three competitors, so they merged with automaker Packard. Nevertheless, they continued to have financial 
troubles. By the late 1950s, the Packard brand was dropped. In December 1963, Studebaker closed the South Bend plant. This ended the production of its cars and trucks in America. After the US closure, the company’s Hamilton, Ontario, facilities remained in operation until March 1966. Finally, after 114 years in business, Studebaker shut its doors for good.
