Armonk History Lovers Make No. Castle’s Civil War Past Come Alive

Bits of significant local history can be found almost anywhere, but recently two Armonk residents unearthed little-known information about how North Castle selected its soldiers for the Civil War and where some of them are buried.

Nicholas Cerullo and George Pouder, both members of the town’s historical society and former longtime members of the Landmarks Preservation Committee, have collaborated on a work detailing which members of the community served and how others legally avoided service.

In the basement of Town Hall, Cerullo had been combing through town documents from 150 years ago and discovered lists of Civil War servicemen from North Castle. Pouder told him that he had been doing his own work regarding local burial sites for the veterans and recognized some of the names.

In all, Cerullo, 82, a Korean War veteran, and Pouder, 92, who served in World War II, found 166 soldiers and four sailors from North Castle had served the Union in the war between the states. Roughly 65 to 75 of those are buried within the town, including 22 at St. Stephen’s Church, Pouder said.

Cerullo’s research also uncovered paperwork showing there had been $34,000 in payments to the town and bond purchases by residents who bought their way out of serving after Congress passed the conscription act in early 1863. Each municipality had a quota of soldiers they had to supply to the war effort. It isn’t certain what North Castle’s quota was, although Cerullo said he saw one reference to nine soldiers. In the 1860 census, the town had about 2,200 residents.

“The question was, they realized (the war) was going to be unpopular and so they began to put stipulations in there, exemptions,” said Cerullo, a retired biochemist and teacher. “The one that sticks out is if you’re a school teacher you’re exempt, if you stammer you’re exempt, if you’re a ferry operator, you’re exempt, a telegraph operator, you had exemptions and then one that you worked out with the town is you could buy an exemption.”

For any white male between the ages of 18 and 45 who could come up with $300 they could buy a substitute soldier for the duration of the war, Cerullo said. Furthermore, for those who had the cash to buy bonds, they would earn 7 percent a year on their money.

Pouder, a retired horticulturist, said initially most Northerners thought the Confederacy was going to be quickly routed and morale was high. But as the Union lost a succession of key battles early in the war, support nationwide to continue fighting began to evaporate.

“I think originally they had all these young lads who thought they could handle this,” Pouder said. “You’d get a uniform, the girls would love it, they’d get out of this sleepy little country town and they get this glorious military career.

“So initially, a lot of people volunteered. But I think almost immediately after Bull Run and other battles, the Confederates were beating the hell out of us and so they couldn’t get volunteers anymore so they instituted a draft.”

The conscription act didn’t sit well with many residents. The sudden intrusion of the federal government into their lives wasn’t welcome.

“It was the first time a community like this felt outside pressure telling them what to do,” Cerullo said. “They had the federal government and Lincoln telling them they had to raise the troops.”

No draft was ever needed for North Castle to make its quota of soldiers, Cerullo said. But as casualties piled up, towns like North Castle were faced with other problems. How could communities support the growing numbers of widows and fatherless children?

Town records show that widows and each child under 12 years old were each provided welfare payments of 50 cents a week. It was later reduced to 25 cents. Presumably children 12 and up, before formal education was prized, were thought to be ready to go to work, Cerullo said.

By comparison, the town paid $3 to a resident for killing a fox.

According to the town’s records, total welfare payments to widows and children reached $1,700.

Cerullo said that Pouder had already begun compiling short write-ups of the Civil War soldiers who had been buried within the town.

“George had all of these names of people who had been involved and the families and put together a package, which I think is really the heart of what we did,” Cerullo said.

Pouder said when he first started his project, the available resources made it laborious to learn about the lives of the Civil War soldiers buried in North Castle. But with online access to a state database as well as ancestry.com, he’s uncovering new information on a regular basis.

“(I thought) it would be a great idea to speak for these mute stones and a way to tell a story and make them come alive because if I could do that they wouldn’t really be dead because someone would remember them,” Pouder said.

In addition to the 22 veterans at St. Stephen’s, there are five or six at the old Methodist Cemetery and one at Smith Cemetery. There are about 40 others at Middle Patent Cemetery, Pouder said.

Last month the two men presented the town and the North Castle Public Library with copies of their work that took about three years to complete–not quite as long as the war itself–and two copies of the books to the town’s historical society. There will be one copy at both the Armonk and North White Plains branches.

Pouder said he plans to add to what he and Cerullo submitted to the town.

“As we got into this study, what intrigued me were not only the soldiers who wanted somebody to speak for them, but what happened at home with the soldier’s family when the soldiers were killed,” he said.

For two local history enthusiasts, there were rewards of making local history come  alive.

“It’s been a lot of fun doing it. I’ve enjoyed it,” Cerullo said. “I’ve enjoyed it with George and all the difficulties and I have a deeply, deeply fond memory and respect for writers.”