The burning of Dallas story begins at Camp Patterson in Wayne County where a detachment from the 23rd Iowa Infantry joined the regiment of Col. Albert Jackson’s 12th Cavalry, Missouri State Militia, on a march from that place to Dallas to chase Confederate Col. William L. Jeffers from the Bollinger County seat and allow an election to proceed as scheduled Nov. 4, 1862.
The North and South had fought bitterly over the Dallas neighborhood earlier in the year with Jeffers emerging as the central figure in the fight. Having recruited heavily in the county, he was certainly well known locally. One would think Jeffers and Jackson, the Union Årmy colonel, were acquainted if not friends in earlier times since the two of them had resided in the same town, nearby Jackson, for several years before the war. That intriguing possibility gives one a reason to wonder if their earlier relationship may not have been a factor in whatever it was that gave rise to Jackson’s strange behavior on the march to Dallas, during which he infuriated a good number of his regimental officers by his actions and an ugly demeanor.
Maj. Samuel L. Glasgow, commanding the Iowa detachment, was later to complain of Jackson’s failure to post flanking parties to protect the column while marching through a countryside believed occupied by the enemy. It exposed his men to attacks without any notice whatever. Most disturbing of all was Jackson’s abrupt decision to stop the forward movement of his column and his subsequent call upon his superiors for reinforcements, which he stated he had to have before he would resume the march into Dallas. That’s the position he stubbornly refused to yield even though his force was believed as large or larger than the enemy’s and in spite of requests by Glasgow and other officers that he proceed. Glasgow, who later in the war as a colonel was in command of the Iowa regiment, was prepared to continue on to Dallas with his detachment without Jackson and his 12th Cavalry but the stubborn Jackson wouldn’t allow it.
The decision to halt the march apparently was made near the edge of the town of Dallas, at which place Jackson minutes later was approached by 73-year-old John Eaker, who was described in the record as a loyal citizen of Bollinger County. He hurriedly and excitedly advised Jackson the rebels were there at that very moment and enthusiastically urged him to mount an attack immediately. According to the record, Eaker was dumbfounded when the attack he eagerly awaited did not materialize.
The colonel, known as a Radical Republican whose political views made him unpopular with Missouri Gov. Hamilton R. Gamble and a good many of his military superiors, blamed the missed opportunity on an intelligence report he’d earlier received that stated Jeffers occupied the town with a formidable fighting force of 1,500 men. Alarmed by the report and of the view his men couldn’t handle Jeffers with an assortment of soldiers of that size, Jackson promptly ordered a rider to carry a message back to Patterson, some 40 miles, to inform superiors there of the risky situation he’d come upon and to ask that reinforcements be sent to him immediately.
Upon learning of the unexpected delay and Jackson’s cry for help, Brig. Gen. John W. Davidson, commanding the Army of Southeast Missouri from headquarters in St. Louis, sent this Nov. 4, 1862, communication to Jackson’s immediate boss at Patterson, Col. S.H. Boyd: “Why is it that Jackson has to be re-enforced and LaGrange wants to go? I asked you to whip Jeffers, but I did not know Colonel Jackson had anything to do with it. Do the best you can.”
The general, obviously not happy to learn of Jackson’s involvement in the Dallas assignment, made a reference to Maj. Oscar H. LaGrange of the 1st Wisconsin Cavalry, who later in the war was to have a key role in the capture of Jefferson Davis, president of the Confederacy. Eager to assist, LaGrange left Patterson with 300 cavalry, two pieces of artillery, and some infantrymen riding in wagons, but after entering Dallas with Jackson and his men and finding no enemy there or nearby he returned with his detachment to Patterson, arriving there late in the night of Nov. 6, 1862.
The paperwork that describes the difficulties I’ve discussed is found in the records of an investigation into Col. Jackson’s competency shortly before he was kicked out of the army. One gathers it was a terribly difficult time for the old colonel, who apparently turned to booze to ease his pain. One of his own lieutenants, Samuel Green Bedwell, stated in a sworn statement he on request delivered to Jackson four or five gallons of whiskey for his personal use during the last month of his hitch in the army, December of 1862. Cowardice, the most offending of a long list of charges leveled against him, stemmed from Jackson’s delay of the march to Dallas, which his critics attributed more to the colonel’s reluctance to tangle with Jeffers than the intelligence report he cited.
One of the supporting documents pertains to the burning of Dallas. It was found in the paperwork related to a specific charge against Jackson, Refusing to Protect Private and Public Property, which grew from his refusal to control his soldiers who were destroying public property in the Bollinger County Courthouse, and I quote verbatim the rest of it, “thereby causing and allowing the Town of Dallas to be destroyed by fire when it was in his power to have prevented said destruction.”
It’s my view the majority of the Dallas business houses were destroyed by the fire described in the record, but since the town was very small the number likely would not have been a large one, perhaps no more than three or four, all probably standing not far from the Courthouse. I come to this view largely because nothing was written of it over the years, which tells me it was not regarded as terribly significant and soon passed from the memory of the people who resided there. The record does not say who carried out the torching operation, but it certainly leaves no doubt it was done by soldiers under Jackson’s command, probably men from his own 12th Cavalry, which moved on from Dallas to Jackson shortly thereafter.