We Have Cotton, But…

By Gould Hagler · Originally published August 2017 · pp. 28–29

We Have Cotton, But… By Gould Hagler The fourth of a series on shortages of consumer goods in the Confederacy. “Melanie, by rare luck, had come into possession of enough gray broadcloth to make a coat — a rather short coat but a coat just the same… It was a beautiful piece of material, thick and warm and with a dull sheen to it, undoubtedly blockade goods and undoubtedly very expensive. It was now in the hands of the tailor and Melanie was hurrying him to have it ready by Christmas morning.” Gone with the Wind, Chapter 15 After his Christmas furlough, Ashley Wilkes returned to battle dressed in this fine new coat. In time it was surely as worn and patched as the old one, and he probably spent the rest of the war in this same garment. Cloth was hard to come by, as were all the other materials needed to make and mend clothing and other fabrics. Confederate soldiers and civilians suffered from shortages of these goods, just as they lacked the other necessities of life. All that cotton was of little use without the means to process it. The story of needles, pins, yarn and buttons is similar to stories of other everyday items discussed in this series’ previous articles—soap, coffee, and oil and gas for lighting.

(Library of Congress)

The blockade, together with the absence of local manufacturing and the priority of military use over scarce resources led to dire shortages and escalating prices. Historians focus more on the leaders than those they led, but through newspapers we can learn how ordinary people managed their day-to-day lives. Immediately before the war and in its early days, Southern newspapers advertised shipments of such things as buttons, needles, thread, and spool cotton. These notices slackened as the blockade tightened. We can discern a worsening situation from an item in the Augusta [Ga.] Chronicle and Sentinel (May 26, 1862) in which a merchant offered to ship a dozen spools of cotton “to any part of the Confederacy to ladies making soldiers’ clothing on receipt of five dollars.” A limit of one package per person was imposed. Cash up front of course, but he took the good ladies’ word that the cotton would be used for the soldiers. The Southern Watchman in Athens, Ga., informed us of rising prices. The Oct. 22, 1863, edition conveyed the troubling news that factories were charging five times the pre-war price for thread and those weaving cloth were charging eight times the old rate for their homespun. “Talk about extortion!” exclaimed the editors. Extortion? Well, maybe, but I would wager the factory owners and the weavers were having to pay much more for every raw resource they bought. Blockade restricting imports. Shortages. Rising prices. What’s next? Entrepreneurs will find ways of meeting the demand. The papers tell of new local factories in which the people took great pride. The Natchez Daily Courier (Oct. 19, 1861) boasted of the Sweet Water Factory in Georgia, making excellent thread. “The ladies will undoubtedly find it preferable to the cheating Yankee spools with which they have been supplied.” A year later the Savannah Republican (Nov. 1, 1862) advised its readers that there were 30 factories in Georgia making cotton and woolen goods. Even more were spinning yarn. In LaGrange, Ga., a savvy gentleman invented a machine to make needles for sewing machines (Daily Chronicle and Sentinel, [Augusta, Ga.] Mar. 11, 1862). A clever blacksmith in Wilkes County, N.C., started turning out sewing needles that same month (Charleston Mercury, Mar. 6, 1862). North Carolina’s Wachovia Steam Mills was spinning cotton thread. “This article is now scarce in the Confederacy, the North being our whole dependence heretofore,” (Austin State Gazette, Mar. 22, 1862). Alabama’s Clarke County Journal (Mar. 3, 1864) reported that a local entrepreneur had begun to manufacture horn buttons. “They are greatly needed now, and we hope he will continue to make them.” A button factory opened in Macon, Ga., making the much-needed buttons of bone and horn at the impressive rate of 30,000 to 40,000 per day. Even more impressive was the local mechanic who designed and built the necessary machinery (Savannah Republican, Apr. 29 and May 14, 1863). From the Charleston Mercury (June 6, 1864) we learn that another button factory had opened in Columbus, Ga. Even with this eruption of entrepreneurial activity, shortages persisted. The Athens Southern Banner (Oct. 22, 1862) paints a picture of peoples’ frantic effort to get scarce goods. A local factory was selling yarn for $3.00 per bunch. The sale was set for just one hour per day. Long lines formed well before the appointed time, and “the scene was occasionally enlivened by rough and tumble fights.” In Arkansas things were even worse. “People anxiously flock to purchase [cotton yarn] from a hundred miles distant, and that in such numbers as to render it impossible to supply the demand” (Washington Telegraph, May 5, 1862). People unwilling or unable to fight for a place in line or trek 100 miles could make some goods at home. The Memphis Daily Appeal (Nov. 13, 1862) told of a lady who, with “an axe, a saw, a chisel and an augur, made herself a loom out of oak rails.” This sturdy woman made eight yards of coarse cloth per day for the army. Some trade was still carried on, even with the North. The Charleston Mercury (July 23, 1862) reported that the ladies of Baltimore had given sewing machine needles to the Soldiers’ Relief Association “to be used for the Confederate soldiers.” Perhaps Mr. Lincoln locked them up, for we see no subsequent stories of this kind. As we have seen, much of the need for these materials was related to clothing soldiers, whose activities quite obviously caused their garments to wear out rapidly. Ashley Wilkes was not alone in needing new clothes to replace those worn and tattered by hard campaigning. Government demands were great and volunteers like Melanie helped out; however, there was a limit to what these ladies could do when materials were scarce and prices high. A letter to the Savannah Republican stated that “the ladies are not weary of sewing for the soldiers, but the materials have risen beyond our means” (Mobile Register and Advertiser, Jan. 1, 1864). The Augusta Chronicle and

Sentinel (Dec. 16, 1862) reported that a textile mill in Columbus contracted to sell four-fifths of its production to the government, “with the balance going to consumers in small quantities, favoring as far as possible the families of soldiers.” A mill in Athens, Ga., advised its customers in late 1863 that it had taken in 25,000 pairs of pants to dye for the government and therefore could no longer “dye any more yarns and garments for our customers (Athens Southern Banner, Dec. 9, 1863). It is no surprise that the war was especially hard on poor families. Those more fortunate did what they could to help out. Several papers reported in the fall of 1862 that the Roswell Manufacturing Co. in Georgia made a “gratuitous distribution” of 1,000 bunches of yarn to the “needy poor.” The yarn was sent to the inferior court judges in each county for distribution. The Athens Southern Banner (Nov. 18, 1863) reported that a local firm was to sell “a limited supply of cloth and yarns” to area clergymen. The recipients had to be ordained ministers whose “only means of support was preaching the gospel.” The shortages and high prices led to demands for government action, even early in the war. The Austin State Gazette (Sept. 3, 1863) took the side of the farmers who had to pay exorbitant prices to get their supplies from the “shylocks and extortionists” in town. “If these things require the strong arm of martial law to regulate them, let the remedy first apply to the merchants and mechanics so farmers’ prices can return to previous levels.” A writer to another newspaper saw things differently. Georgia’s Governor Brown had proposed heavy-handed government action. In response, one irate citizen minced no words. “Let the Governor of Georgia mind his own business, and the manufacturers theirs,” (Savannah Republican, Oct. 30, 1862). This advice was not heeded. Soon afterwards the governor prohibited shipment out of state of shoes, cloth, clothing, and leather and was authorized by the legislature to seize factories and tanneries (Columbus Enquirer, Dec. 9, 1862). The manufacturers sometimes made common cause to address the crisis. North Carolina cotton factories agreed to limit their profits, give preference to orders from the state, and to discourage speculation by limiting quantities sold to agents (Athens Southern Banner, Dec. 17, 1862).Two factories in Georgia agreed to reduce prices and to “give preference to those dealers who conform to their schedule of prices, rather than the speculator.” They also agreed to sell to soldiers’ families at wholesale prices (Natchez Daily Courier, Apr. 4, 1862). Georgia’s cotton yarn spinners made an agreement “to arrange a united effort…to supply destitute families of soldiers with yarns,” (Columbus Enquirer, May 12, 1863). Not everybody was so public-spirited. The Columbus Enquirer (Nov. 4, 1863) reported that, in return for agreeing to limit their profits, manufacturers were allowed workers by the government (i.e., these men were granted exemptions from the draft). Retailers were willing to pay higher prices under the table to stock their stores, and two manufacturers were suspected of selling at the market rate despite their agreement with the government. The retailers got their goods “with their promise to say nothing about it.” As the war dragged on, conditions were such that people resorted to bartering. Cook and Brother traded several items, including thread, for corn so that the armory workers’ families could be fed (Athens Southern Banner, Feb. 24, 1864). Georgia’s

Albany Patriot (July 28, 1864) reported that a local company was offering badly needed cloth for country produce. The Athens Foundry and Machine works offered thread and various other goods for bacon, corn, wheat, and wood—necessities for the company’s hard pressed workers (Southern Watchman, Feb. 15, 1865). Everybody was in need. The money was worthless. The end was near. Sources: The newspaper accounts used for this article were compiled by Vicki Betts, a librarian at the University of Texas at Tyler. Betts, Vicki “Lighting: Candles, Lamps, and Matches” and “Buttons” (2016). Special Topics. Papers 1 and 14. They can be found online at http://scholarworks.uttyler.edu/cw_newstopics/. Gould Hagler is the author of Georgia’s Confederate Monuments: In Honor of a Fallen Nation (Mercer University Press, 2014), available from Mercer University Press, retail outlets, online sellers, and directly from the author (gould.hagler@gmail. com). His new book on Alabama’s Confederate monuments is to be published by Indiana University Press.