COLONEL WILLIAM MONTAGUE FERRY.

 

            ONE of the strong men that for a quarter of a century helped to give direction to the thought and the political history of Utah was Col. W. M. Ferry. He came of a sterling race. His ancestors emigrated from France to England and then to Massachusetts. The original Ferry in this country, at least to which any date attaches, was Charles Ferry, who took the oath of allegiance to the government of the Massachusetts colony at Springfield, in 1675.

            Colonel William Montague Ferry was a child of the frontier, having been born at Michilimiackimal, Michigan, in 1824, when Michigan was practically a wilderness. He was the eldest son of Rev. Wm. M. and Amanda White Ferry. The elder Ferry was a Presbyterian clergyman who went to Michigan as a missionary. He was a devout Christian; but he belonged to the Church Militant, not as a fighter, but as one without fear. Before he moved there to begin his work, he sailed with two Indians in a canoe around Lake Michigan, over to Chicago, when it had not a thousand people, and up to the beautiful site now occupied by Milwaukee.

            Then he took charge of the Mackinaw mission, and for several years maintained it.

            It was there that Colonel Wm. M. Ferry was born. In 1834 the elder Ferry, with his little family, removed to the present site of Grand Haven, Michigan, the family being the first white settlers of Ottowa county. There Colonel Ferry grew to manhood. That fact alone is sufficient to make clear that there is nothing of savagery or hardship on the frontier that he did not learn while yet a boy to accept as a matter of course.

            His educational advantages were such as the frontier could furnish. When a child he was taught to write and cypher in sand boxes, such as were in use in the Indian mission.

            Colonel Ferry's father's experience in college was a hard

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one in working his way and he did not wish it repeated by his sons. But he was a teacher himself, and had a fine library ; then two eccentric men came to Grand Haven and each had a choice library which they united and to this the boy had perpetual access. One season he spent in Massachusetts and there attended the Sanderson Academy, then in charge of Henry L. Dawes, who later was Senator Dawes of Massachusetts.

            After he was twenty, young Ferry nearly lost his life in trying to save people on a stranded ship, and being through this unable to work, he was a year in Kalamazoo College, standing high in his class. From childhood he was an insatiable reader. All his life, at home or on a journey, if his pockets were searched, a book, generally a classic, could be found. The frontier itself with its loneliness, its lakes and forests with their manifold voices is a pretty good school to thoughtful boys.

            Once he ran upon a pompous clergyman who gave away the fact of his dense ignorance every time he opened his mouth, but he knew a few words and phrases of Latin, and these he was prone to unload on any audience. Tired at last. Colonel Ferry one day told him that it was an accomplishment to speak a foreign tongue, but dangerous unless the speaker knew the roots of the language. Then said: "Hear me!" Then for five minutes he hurled imprecations at the man, which were enough to cure him of his habit. The language used by the colonel was high-class Chippewa.

            As the colonel grew up he mastered the trades of a machinist and engineer. His mechanical genius was a gift. All his life if anything was going wrong in machinery in motion, he would detect it in a moment by the sound, or rather by the want of rhythm in the sound.

            Because of the floods of water encountered in the Ontario mine at Park City, Utah, it was found necessary to install a great Cornish pump. It was a massive affair intended to keep the mine drained to a depth of 1200 feet. It had been running but a few days when Colonel Ferry drove past in his buggy. The great engine was knocking badly. The colonel was an old man, but he stopped his buggy, and calling a man who happened to be outside the works, bade him tell the engineer that

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he wished to speak to him. In a moment the engineer came to the buggy and said: "What can I do for you, Colonel?"

            "Nothing for me," was the reply, "but why do you not stop the knocking of that engine?"

            "I have racked my brains over that until I am getting rattled," said the engineer. 'I have tried water and oil and a dozen other things. I have begun to think there is a spirit in that cylinder that is knocking to get out."

            'There is no elasticity in oil or water," said the colonel, "but there is plenty of it in air. Bore a hole about the size of a gimlet into the cylinder two or three inches from the cylinder head on the exhaust end ; the air will make a cushion that will serve as a buffer and should stop the knocking."

            That done, the spirit must have escaped through the hole, for there was never any more knocking.

            The colonel had hardly finished his education -- of mind and hand -- when he became noted as a skilful draughtsman, engineer and inventor. He was given several patents for his inventions. In 1856 he was elected a regent of the University of Michigan, which place he held until he went to the war.

            The previous year he had erected the Ottowa Iron Works, a large foundry and machine shop, near Grand Haven, and was engaged largely in the manufacturing of steam engines, stationary and for lake boats, his own saw mills which revolutionized the sawing of timber in the old northwest, propellers and all kinds of machinery.

            In 1851 he married Miss Jeanette Hollister, and perhaps had he searched the world over he never could have found a woman so gentle and tender, so serene under trials, and yet so strong and steady-minded as the wife he married. Surely not one who could have so steadied his impetuous and sometimes imperious nature. His business prospered ; he was gaining in the estimation of men ; the world was bright before him when the call for soldiers came in 1861.

            He was in politics an aggressive Democrat; he had grieved exceedingly over the election of Mr. Lincoln ; all his life he had heard his father preach peace and good will; after

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a hard childhood and boyhood peace and plenty had come to him, and hope was beckoning him on to fortune and fame.

            But there was duty. Had not his grandfather and grand uncle fought side by side through the Revolutionary war? Had not his father come to Michigan when it was but a wilderness, bringing little save a Bible in one hand and a rifle in the other and with these entered the mighty wild to subdue it ?

            Behind him was an ancestry that whether they knew much of the Bible or not, did know how to handle a gun. And now his native land was assailed, its integrity was threatened ; its flag had been fired upon. He did not hesitate a moment. He entered as a private in the Fourteenth Michigan Infantry. He was in the hell of Pittsburg Landing ; at the siege of Corinth ; in all the battles of the Army of the Tennessee ; then having been promoted through all the grades to a captaincy, he became an aid to General McPherson in General Grant's army, was wounded at Vicksburg, and when he was exulting over the fall of that stronghold, his younger brother Noah was dying a soldier's death on the red field of Gettysburg.

            When first promoted to his captaincy, Colonel Ferry, by direct appointment of President Lincoln, was assigned subsistence commissary. Early in 1862 he made a report, making clear the lamentable condition of the soldiers in field and hospital, owing to the lack in the regular army rations to provide for the wounded and sick, and condemning the sutler system as a robbing of the soldiers.

            General Rosecrans approved his report, but was powerless to inaugurate a remedy, and told Captain Ferry that any one attempting an innovation would be summarily dismissed from the service. But because of his sympathy for the suffering men and because he knew that he was right, the captain assumed the responsibility, ordered from the north, on government account, what he wanted, and introduced a commutation of rations, through which, in lieu of such portions of the regular rations as soldiers did not desire, they could receive such other articles as were needful for their health and comfort, limited to the prescribed cost of the regular rations.

            His first monthly report to the subsistence department at

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Washington, containing full explanations of what he had done and was doing, was emphatically and absolutely condemned.

            To this Captain Ferry replied more fully, explaining the need of the change, pointed out that the results were most satisfactory and reminding the department that the innovation involved no extra expense. His plan received no formal sanction, but it was not forbidden, and so was continued and soon became an unwritten law. After the close of the war it crystalized into a rule in the department and was finally approved by Congress, the sutler system abolished, and now officers and their families, soldiers in rank and hospital may select any kind of rations they desire within the cost of regular rations.

            Immediately after the fall of Vicksburg, with its garrison and the Federal army of ninety thousand men in a region that had been laid waste. General Grant ordered Colonel Ferry to provide at Vicksburg as he had the previous year at Corinth, such additions to the rations as the health of the army required, and "any needed luxuries" for the soldiers in the field and hospitals, and General Tecumseh Sherman, after Corinth, said to him : "Ferry, you have left your mark in the army, and it will stand to your honor as log as the United States has an army."

            After the death of General McPherson, and the promotion of Captain Ferry to the grade of lieutenant-colonel, he was ordered by General Grant to proceed to Memphis, Tenn., to take charge of the receipts and disbursements of army supplies for the armies of the South and Southwest. His responsibilities there were very great, but he found time to write regularly to Harper's Weekly and occasionally to the Chicago Tribune and other journals. He also wrote up his own experiences in the army with a view of publishing them. He was a terse and accomplished writer, while his absolute truthfulness shone out in every line.

            His perfect mastery of the French language brought him offers of honorable and lucrative positions abroad, but he declined them.

            His remembrances were never completed, nor published, because of an accident. His headquarters in Memphis were in

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the Bradley block. The building was filled from basement to roof with army supplies, some of them, like barreled pork, very heavy. The building had been weakened by taking out partitions, and there were whispers that it was unsafe.

            The colonel had but just left the building when it went down in a crash that shook the city. The Bradley block was simply a ruin.

            All the colonel's manuscripts were lost. It was a great pity. His book could not have failed to be most interesting. His ''Guarding Rebel Property" was translated into many languages.

            While the colonel was in Memphis an inspector was sent there from Washington to straighten out some irregularities, but he never troubled Colonel Ferry. Years after the war the inspector and the colonel met at an army reunion, when the inspector said: "Colonel, do you know why I did not investigate your business in Memphis? On the back of my instructions the department had written, 'Let Ferry alone. He's straight.' "

            When the war was over the colonel with an honorable discharge, returned home. Perhaps no returning soldier ever had a more joyous home-coming than he. He went away a private soldier ; by his worth alone he had won his way through all the grades to lieutenant-colonel : the war had brought out all that had been incomplete in his nature : but he returned as he had gone away, a Christian gentleman, and Jeffersonian Democrat.

            To receive him were wife and children, his aged, heroic father, his brothers, one perhaps the brightest in the family, the other soon to enter for several terms the United States senate, and his friends, which included most of the population of Michigan.

            He remained there fifteen years, was tendered many high offices and filled a few of them, notably all school offices, and as a delegate helped to form a new Constitution for Michigan.

            Then his mining interests called him to Utah. Four sons and two daughters had been born to him ; the sons died when children, but the daughters still remain, Mrs. Allen, with her

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mother in Park City, Utah, and Mrs. George Hancock in Salt Lake City.

            In Utah he was quickly recognized as the masterful man that he was. He became greatly attached to the state, especially to his mountain home in Park City. Only one thing disturbed him. He reached Utah just when the clashing between the government and the Latter-day Saints was approaching a climax.

            The colonel, a trained soldier, an American to whom his country was all in all, could hardly contain himself in the situation that existed. When discussing it, he would sometimes spring from his chair, and pace the floor, and his walk was that of a tiger in captivity.

            But he went about doing good and trusting in God. He with his brother carried on a most complicated mining business which finally, four or five years prior to his death, culminated in a competency for him.

            His home life was something beautiful to see. Some three or four years prior to his death his eyes failed him, and he became almost totally blind. Then his loved ones became eyes to him. All that devotion and loving solicitude could do was done for him. In the family devotions, he loved to lead, with his fine tenor voice, in the singing, and his family learned to guess his mood by the character of the hymns he sang.

            He had long been feeble in health. His faltering heart was his notice that his end was near.

            In the winter of 1905 he was seized with an attack of grippe, and on the 3rd of January, he sank into a quiet sleep and awoke beyond the stars.

            After impressive services at his home in Park City, his body was taken to his old home in Grand Haven, and after still more impressive obsequies, he was laid to rest in the beautiful cemetery there, the murmur of the waters of Lake Michigan being a lullaby to the sleeper.

            At his death the Loyal Legion of the United States issued a military order which was a noble eulogy of his life and

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character. The press of Utah and Michigan gave him notices which were all fine.

            What he had, what he was, he wrought out for himself. He was gentle in his ways ; he drew those near him to his heart with hooks of steel ; his resolute soul never lost its perfect poise ; he was sure that a clear brain and a healthy body were sufficient capital for anyone. With these he began his battle for a place among men, and won it ; won it, too, in a way that carried no self-reproaches. Every day of his life he was ready, if called upon, to make a full accounting.

            When the war came, he hurried to the front. He remained there until the lips of the last cannon grew still. He was in the forefront of that wonderful array of officers who were the executives of those greater soldiers, Grant, Sherman, Thomas, McPherson and Rosecrans.

            The war did not change in the least the man, save to intensify his high character. He became as eminent in peace as he was in war.

            He was a Christian gentleman. In the world he never feared aught except his God and the possibility of doing wrong.

            He walked high-souled and self-respectful through life. He believed in the omnipotence of labor and worked until his eyes failed him. As his sight grew more and more dim, the vision of the greater light of the beyond grew brighter and brighter around him, and while the new year's greetings were ringing joyously, the light suddenly went out, and he passed to the everlasting day.

            When around his own fireside, the colonel would some- times, in a reminiscent mood, tell old war-time anecdotes. Two or three are given below.

            "A bunch of us officers were once during the war invited to dinner at a private southern home. After dinner, to entertain us, the ladies of the house sang several songs with piano accompaniment. Finally "Maryland, My Maryland" was sung, and then a discussion arose about the origin of the tune, the ladies and some of the gentlemen claiming that the tune, like the words, were Southern. The colonel said they were mis-

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taken about the tune, that it was an old hymn. When this was contested, the colonel said : 'But I will prove it,' and nodding to one of the officers, said, 'Lieutenant, play me the accompaniment ;' then, in his superb tenor voice he sang the hymn through, which shut off further debate."

            At one time the Army of the Tennessee was encamped for a good while on both banks of the Tennessee River. It was the habit of the bands of several regiments on Sundays to play jolly music of every kind. This was a great distress to the chaplains, and to all the religious men in the army. It was most offensive to Colonel Ferry, and he went through the army making personal appeals to the band masters. The next Sabbath morning's dawn was most beautiful. The sky was sapphire and a great hush was on the air. While many of the soldiers were still asleep the clear notes of a bugle rang out on the still summer air, a full regimental band playing softly an accompaniment. The air played was, "Praise God from whom all blessings flow."

            As the music ceased there was a moment of absolute silence ; then the band of another regiment with more power took up and repeated the anthem.

            Soldiers came out of the tents to listen. Very soon both banks of the river were lined with listening men ; as one band after another joined in the solemn but triumphal hymn.

            The waters of the river seemed to be bearing along the sacred melody; then human voices joined; then regiment after regiment took up the strain, and soon every division of the superb army, as with one acclaim, was singing. From that day until the encampment was broken up, only sacred music was played on Sunday.

            The colonel went to Central and South America in 1888-89.

            Bishop Scanlan of Salt Lake tendered him letters of introduction, which generally had the effect of a safe conduct for him and his party. One Padre to whom one of his letters was presented, read it and then said : "I see you are not of our faith, but I know of no reason why I should not serve you. We are all traveling toward the same country."

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            Generally the utmost kindness was extended,, but when they reached the port of Pacasmazo, an officer stopped them and took them before an alcalde. The colonel and his party were in a hurry, and the colonel looked over the alcalde, went near him and in a low voice said, "'We are in a hurry, and I have one hundred good reasons to show you why we should not be detained."

            "In that case," said the doughty magistrate, "it would be better to come with me to my private office." The colonel went and soon came out with a flowery passport to travel anywhere within the jurisdiction of the court. I asked one of the company what the reasons were, and he gave me to understand they were Peruvian silver dollars.

            The same member of the company -- a Utah-born boy -- told me that when their little coast steamer entered the port of Paita it was just about sundown. The whole company had grown weary of the Spanish "jabber," none of them had seen an American for months, but there, right before them, lay the Trenton -- which went to pieces on the rocks under the beatings of the hurricane in Samoa harbor, the band playing as the ship was sinking. The Trenton was a beautiful four-masted frigate, and she was rising and falling on the swell as gracefully as a swan. The marines had been drilling, the yards were alive with men, the sun was aflame over the flag, and the band was playing a national air. With full heart I was watching the scene, when Col. Ferry came on deck from below and caught sight of the pageant. Off came his white hat. For five minutes he waved it, shouting like a Comanche, jumping up and down, and tears coursing down his face.

            If, where the soul of the colonel has gone, the standard is not the Stars and Stripes that soul will join the progressives and demand a new deal.