Leander Goodwin attended public school in Rush County IN in the fall of 1855.
In the spring of 1856, the family moved to Rushville, Missouri, where he attended school until their return to Rush County, IN in 1858.
In 1862, the family moved to Tipton County, IN, leaving Leander in Rush Co. to work for a farmer named Abraham Grubb.
While there, Leander enlisted in the U.S. Army, Co. D, 68th Indiana Voluntary Infantry, on 8 August 1862 for $25 bounty. He was promoted to corporal on 1 November 1864 by order of Major Finn. In December of 1863, in Chattanooga, TN, he reported sick; in February 1864 he was in Knoxville. He was detailed as orderly for the General Court Martial by special order 22, dated Headquarters, D.E., 18 February 1865, Chattanooga, TN. His enlistment record says he was 19, 5'6", fair, a farmer with light hair and blue eyes. His granddaughter Lola (Tyner) Hagin wrote, "He fought in the Battle of Chichamauga, in which they were victorious under the command of Gen. Thomas and Col. Edward A. King. The next battle was under the command of Gen. Grant at Mission Ridge, TN, and again they were victorious. He was also in the Battle of Nashville. One of his Captains was Capt. Leeson of Elwood, IN. He knew General Wm. T. Sherman personnaly and once was under the command of General Rosecran. He was never injured during the war but received two bullet holes in his overcoat without getting even so much as a scratch." He was also in the battles at Munfordsville, Hoover's Gap, Dandridge, Dalton, Charleston, Chattanooga, and Decatur. Leander served as corporal for 18 months and was honorably discharged in 1865.
After the war, Leander moved to Curtisville, Tipton, IN and there was married to Phoebe Adeline Marshall on 15 August 1867 (B-190) by Squire R.T. Moon, for whom he clerked until 1875.
Then he started for himself, running a general merchandise store built by the railroad, until 1882 when he sold the dry-goods store to Charles Hall.
In August of 1881, he and J.B. Colvin purchased the Curtisville sawmill and did $8,000 to $10,000 worth of business yearly.
In 1893, with several others, Leander bought the Curtisville Tile and Brick Company. He also owned two farms, one at the edge of Curtisville and the other 1 1/2 miles NW of Curtisville.
A staunch Republican, Leander served as trustee of Madison Township for two years; express agent; Deputy Postmaster; and Postmaster in the dry-goods store (even after its sale); and Notary Public for 25 years.

TIPTON TRIBUNE for August 1909 has "Lee Goodwin and Tom Cochrel drove down to the Elwood fair grounds Wednesday to enter horses for the coming fair, prospecting for the premiums, of course...."

On 2 August 1929, Leander and Phoebe had their 62nd wedding anniversary, with Augusta, Cleva, Clarence, Mabel, and Daisy present. Leander died 6 January 1931, and the funeral was held privately in his own home by Rev. Mary V. Cough-Bowman on 8 February 1931, owing to the physical condition of his wife.

In 1837 there was a great sight, seen by the people then living. It was the falling of the stars. They fell as thick as any hail ever known, and lasted for quite awhile. People thought their time had come and that the earth had come to an end. Two people to witness this was Enoch Goodwin, German descent, and his wife, Melissa (Staggs) Goodwin, English descent. At this time they lived in Rush County, and in 1842, Oct. 8 there was born to them a son, my grandfather, Leander Goodwin. He lived with his parents, in Rush County, until 1862, when he enlisted in the Cumberland Army. The year before he saw Pres. Lincoln at Shelbyville. In 1869 under the command of Gen. Thomas, 37 men whose Colonel was Edward A. King, went into battle at Chickamauga and won a victory, but only 7 men escaped with their lives. Leander was one of the seven, and he had 2 bullet holes in his overcoat, without getting as much as a scratch. His Col. was killed. The next battle he was under the command of Gen. Grant, at Mission Ridge, and again they were victorious. Grandfather knew Gen. Wm. T. Sherman, personally, and once was under the command of Gen. Rosecran. He was in the battle of Nashville. While in the Federal Army, at one time he was issued 1/2 ear of raw corn a day, for three weeks, often had nothing to eat except hardtack, and once lived 3 days on blackberries. He received an honorable discharge when he was 22 years old. He told me how cold it was in 1864 on January first. It had not been very cold until that day, and when the temperature suddenly went down to 29 below zero, every one nearly froze to death. He gave as example, "A cat walked out to the pump to get a drink a drink out of a bucket of water, and while she was drinking, her feet froze to the ice, and my great-grandmother had to dig her out of the ice," "that was the coldest time ever known in the United States."
In 1867 grandfather married Phoebe Adeline Marshall, and to them were born nine children. After leaving the army, grandfather moved to Curtisville, where he now resides. He owned a general store there, and was trustee of Madison Township Tipton Co. for 2 years, and was Notary Public for 25 yrs. When he was 51 years old, he paid five cents to ride an elephant, at the worlds fair, in Chicago, and now is anxious to ride in an airplane. Although he is now 78 yrs. old, he is still active and full of fun. He had made 4 fishing trips to Florida, in company with Wayne Leeson, since he reached his 70th birthday. He was the youngest of the family of 8 children, every other one of whom was deaf & dumb. He has seen Washington's Monument, which is 565 ft. high, and visited at Mount Vernon, Virginia, where George & Marha Washington are buried, on the banks of the Potomic river. He saw Pres. Roosevelt at Washington, D.C. at this time he is oldest resident at Curtisville, and well remembers when Oxen were used instead of horses, and has ridden home from Florida in a Ford. When he received the two bullet holes in his overcoat, one of them broke some hardtacks, and scattered the contents of his haversack, but didn't touch him. He was manager of the post-office and freight office, at Curtisville, also a fur dealer. He remembers well the total eclipse of the sun, when it was so very dark, that the chickens went to roost for awhile, until the sun came out again. This was in 1869 or 1870. Two years after the battle of Chickamauga, he visited the battlegrounds, and brought back with him a cannon-ball. He also has a cannonball-log, a log which is full of cannon-balls, he also has a bayonet, but not the one he used, but just like it. One son, he named after Gen. Grant, Noval Ulysses Grant Goodwin. When asked if he had retired, he answered with a sharp "No, I still chop weeds."

Tipton Co. Indiana biography:
LEANDER GOODWIN, son of Enoch and Melissa (Staggs) Goodwin, was born in Rush County, Indiana, October 8, 1842. He was reared on a farm, and attended school each winter. Upon hearing the call for three years' troops, he enlisted in Company D.,Sixty-eighth Regiment Indiana Volunteers and participated in the battles at Munfordsville, Hoover's Gap, Chickamauga, Dandridge, Dalton, Nashville, and several minor battles. Mr. Goodwin had seven bullet holes in his clothing, three of which were made in the battle of Chickamauga. He served as Corporal eighteen months, and was honorably discharged in 1865. Returning home, he removed to Curtisville, Tipton County, and clerked for R.T. Moon until 1875, when he started for himself continuing until 1882. In August, 1881, he and J. Colvin purchased the Curtisville saw mill, and have since done a business of from $8,000 to $10,000 per annum. Leander owns a fine farm of 200 acres near Curtisville, 160 of which are well-drained. He is a staunch Republican. He has served as Trustee of Madison Township, as express agent, as Deputy Postmaster, as Postmaster, and as Notary Public, and has done much to build up the financial interests of his community. Mr. Goodwin was married, August 12, 1868, to Miss Phoebe Adaline Marshall, daughter of Hazzard P. and Phoebe (Fisher) Marshal,l of Tipton County. They have had five children--Celestia Daisy, Nora Selena, Sarah Rosalee, Norval U.G., and Cleva Idella.

The subject of this sketch was born in Rush County, Indiana, October8, 1842. There was a family of eight children, every other was born deaf and dumb. The eldest, Gilson, was born deaf and dumb, then Sarah could hear and talk. John was born deaf and dumb, then William could hear and talk. Then James was born deaf and dumb. (James had charge of the Deaf and Dumb Institution at Baton Rouge, La. in his later years.) This brought the date up to 1812, and Elizabeth was born and could and talk, then Critchfield was deaf and dumb, then Leander could hear and talk.

I only received a common school education, only went to three free schools. The first I attended was the Fall of 1855, and the Spring of 1856 at the month of March my father moved to the State of Missouri. He took a steamboat at Cincinnati, Ohio, and while enroute to St. Louis, Missouri, my half brother Obadiah got his hand cut off by the slide valve of the piston rod of the boat. The Doctor aboard of the Boat bound his wrist up the best he could until we got to St. Louis, where Father got physicians to amputate the bone just above the wrist for which they charged him three hundred and fifty dollars, a regular hold-up.

We then went to Weston, Missouri by boat (no railroads then), and from there Father hired wagons to haul his plunder to Rushville, Buchanon County, Missouri, thirty-five miles, where we stayed nearly two years, just south of the Missouri River from Kansas, which was a Territory then, and six miles from the Town of Atchison, now called the City of Atchison, in the State of Kansas.

While we lived in Rushville, Missouri, I saw a great deal of the system of negro slavery. There were some very large plantations east of Rushville, growing hemp and wheat for the St. Louis market. All the products of the County were shipped by steamboat down the Missouri River, there being no railraods in that County then. In the Spring of 1857, I saw the steamboat Delaware land at Doniphan, Kansas, loaded with railroad bars for the Hannibal and St. Joe Railroad.

Doniphan was thirty miles below St. Joe, Missouri. The town of Doniphan was a Freesoil town and Atchison, six miles below, was a pro-slavery town, and at that time a freesoilers life was not safe in a pre-slavery town, and a Border Ruffian was one who favored the Territory of Kansas to come into the Union as a State.

There were great planters moved into the Territory of Kansas from Missouri, and took their negroes along. A widow lady took her negroes in the Territory and one day a gentleman rode up and asked the widow if he could get his dinner. "Yes, Sir," she said, "anybody can get his dinner here, except the notorious Jim Lane." She sent a negro boy to care for and feed the horse and she had the negro wenches get up a good dinner while she (who was quite a lady) invited the stranger into the parlor and entertained him very nicely. So after dinner the gentleman called for his horse and negro [PAGE MISSING HERE]

...would ask who never what picture that was and if the mover said "Keow" the ferryman knew at once that he was an Eastern man, or Yankee, and he would not take him across the River.

Now the Southern States sent a great many men into the Territory and paid their board so as to get them to vote at the poles for a slave State, but the election was postponed from time to time and the Southerners got tired of sending them money. So later when the election did come the free-soilers of the North paid those fellows board and therefore got their votes for a free State. But on the other hand the free-soilers were not asleep. They were shipping boxes marked "Bible Tracts and Sunday School Papers" into the Territory. (These boxes were all filled with sharps, rifles, and ammunition.) I have seen a company of 75 or 100 assemble at Rushville, Missouri, on horseback and they had rifles, shotguns, large dirk knives, and they said they were going into Kansas to clean out Jim Lane and his jayhawkers, and in two or three weeks you could see two, and sometimes, three, return as they had been flushed like a flock of quaile and some of the fellows said they had to get back to Missouri (to get a clean pair of pants).

At that time Jim Lane was a resident of Doniphan City. During slavery each town had three patrols (who acted in the capacity of constables.) Now their duty was to see that no plantation negro came to town unless he had a pass. If the negro had no pass he was whipped with a cat-a-nine-tails, and started for his plantation, but at the same time other slave owners were better to their slaves and would give them a pass, and when a negro had a pass he could go at will and not be molested.

Now there was a State Law that said imprisonment was the penalty for a white boy or man caught teaching a negro his alphabet, and yet I have seen quite a number of negro men and boys carrying a spelling book in their packet and when they could get an opportunity to get a white boy to teach them thealphabet and to spell words of one syllable they would do so unknown to their masters.

The principal crop grown was hemp. Hemp was a very costly crop to grow as it had to be cut by hand and a good hand could only cut about one quarter more per day. (No machinery for cutting in use then.) If they had of been, the planters would have destroyed them, for they were opposed to anything that would do the negroes work. I have known them to destroy acres of sorghum cane planted by the poor whites, claiming that it was a detriment to negro slavery and labor. In the South where sugar cane was grown the slave owners did all in their power to assist negro slavery.

Now the only way a negro could get any pin money was gotten in various ways. Some masters would let a negro plant a watermelon patch and the negro would have to hoe his patch at night or on Sunday. A negro was hoeing his patch on Sunday and the Minister came along and says, "Sambo, why don't you trust to Providence?", and the negro said that Providence was too Damd lazy to hoe his own patch. (There was a negro on the plantation by the name of Providence.)

I personally knew a young Doctor who came to Rushville and he married a young lady who was raised on a plantation about three miles from Rushville. When he took his wife home to go to house-keeping the father of the young lady sent a negro wench home with her to do the cooking and washing, as all the young ladies who were raised in a slave State were not taught to work, and continued to be raised in idleness even until after the war, when necessity (the Mother of all inventions) set them to work or starve. I am very glad that I had the pleasure of living in a slave State while slavery existed, so I could see just how the negroes were used, and therefore it was quite different from reading of it out of a book.

In the year of 1858 my Father moved back to Rush County, Indiana, and I came also and had the opportunity of attending free schools in 1859 and 1860. I got so I could cipher as far as the single rule of three. (In the old Talbots Arithmetic.)

In 1861 when the South fired on the American Flag at Fort Anerson, I wanted to enlist but my Father would not let me as I was under age. So in the Spring of 1862 my Father moved to Tipton County and left me in Rush County. I went to work in March 1862 for a farmer by the name of Abraham Grubb. His family done my washing and mending and he paid me the sum of eight and one third dollars a month (one hundred dollars a year), for my labor. So when the President issued his call for 400,000 troops, in July 1862, I responded to his call and enlisted in Company "D", 68th Indiana Voluntary Infantry, in the month of July 1862.

We started to camp in Greesburgh, Indiana. We stayed the first night in Milroy, Indiana, to get an early start for Greensburg, and while at Milroy some of the boys hired a livery rig and went forth in the country and brought in an old farmer by the name of Boyd who had the reputation of being a Rebel, or Southern sympathizer, and they would have hanged him to a tree if it had not been for the calm deliberation of our officers, (as the boys said they might as well get Rebels out of the way, here as well as in the South.) It took earnest pleading to get the new enlisted soldiers to let him go free. So we started and got into camp about 10 A.M. We went into camp on the farm of a Mr. Cobb, east of Greensburg, in the woods, with logs and brush for seats, no tents, no blankets, no nothing. In about two hours a mule team drove up with a load of dry cord wood. Well some of the boys dug a trench and put the dry cord wood in the trench and fired it. That was the first intimation of our first camp dinner.

Well, the next team that drove up was loaded with mess pans, camp bottles, tin-cups, and the next team brought soft bread, potatoes, coffee, salt, pepper, sow-belly, etc. Well, you ought to have seen the commotion, there was in our quarters, (we had no real leader), but some went for water and some had to pound coffee (no coffee mills to grind the coffee), and some to cutting side meat and you ought to have seen the pile of meat that was cut to be fried for a hundred men. I would say at least (without exaggeration), a common washtubful. So some went to frying meat, others to making coffee and others to cutting bread. And when dinner was announced, the pile of stuff looked like a pile of shredded fodder for fifteen or twenty head of steers. That was our first dinner in camp. But for the next meals after the first, were prepared by company cooks, detailed by the officers of our Company for that purpose.

So on Thursday, two days after we went into camp there came to our camp a deaf and dumb man soliciting washing. So he gathered up at least 500 pairs of socks (yarn) and that many shirts and drawers and said he would deliver them the following Tuesday. But on Sunday night we got marching orders to board the train for Indianapolis, Indiana. When we arrived in Indianapolis we laid down and slept all night on the floor of the old Union Depot. In Indianpolis the next night we slept in the old State House, and will say we had a hard bed. We had not drawn any Government blankets yet, but the weather was warm.

I forgot to say while we were in camp in Greensburg that Mr. Cobb, (on whose farm we camped,) had a ten acre field of corn in good roasting ears and when we left there I do not think there was a bushel of corn left in that field. I suppose he put in a claim to Uncle Sam and got his pay but still I have never heard whether he did or not. But I do know this, that an American Soldier is like a worm, always hungry and eats everything in sight, and sometimes when it is out of sight (as he gets it after dark). Now the Soldiers in the war were not thieves, they did not steal but what they got they just took.

So on the following Tuesday after we got in Indianapolis, the deaf and dumb man who had taken out the washing at Greensburg, followed us to Indianapolis to get his pay, and to deliver the washing, but we boys in the 68th Indiana Regiment told him to go back home and keep all the fhirst, drawers and socks that he had collected and he got all of them for just the washing. And if the poor fellow is alive yet he must have some of those clothes.

Well, after being in camp just a few days at Indianapolis, along came the (I can't read it) and Mustering Officer to swear us into the United States Army for three years or during the War. So we were called out in line and the Army Doctor just walked along the line and said "Hold out your hands, let me see your teeth", more like examining a horse or mule, and I do not think we were examined as close as the horse and mule buyers did when they were buying for Government service. (Uncle Sam wanted soldiers too bad just then). So about August 19, 1862 was the date were were mustered into the service, then the equipment of the Regiment began. We were issued knapsacks, haversacks, canteen tin-cups, a rubber blanket, wool blanket, gun, cartridge box, and forty rounds of ammunition. (The ammunition was put in paper cartridges. That was the reason they wanted us to have good teeth so we could bite off the ends of the cartridge when loading our guns.)

So when we had drawn our entire outfit, the condensced weight was from 75 to 96 pounds (including two days rations), and when we were all rigged up in this (?) we looked more like a mule pack train, ready to cross the mountains. It was an awful change from a farmer boy to an American Soldier in a day or two. We boarded the cars for Louisville, Ky. to help stop the invasion of General Bragg, the Rebel General, and his army across the State of Kentucky. We were issued in Louisville, seven days rations and ordered to put two days rations in our haversacks and five days rations in our knapsacks, and do you know, the most of us, (foolish country boys) disobeyed the orders and left the biggest portion of our rations standing in our Company Quarters.

When we were called in line to start on the march through Kentucky to a place called Bardstown the most of us thought that Uncle Sam wanted to make pack horses of ourselves, but I will say this, we were awful sorry that we left those rations behindas we got awful hungry before the end of the eleventh day, and that was the last time during our three years Service that we refused to pack all the rations that Uncle Sam issued us. When we started on this march we had drawn woolen clothes, coats, pants, and shirts, yarn socks and small Government caps, and in the meantime we had our hair cut short and our necks, noses, and ears all got sunburned and got very sore and all peeled off, and besides we liked to have burned up by wearing the woolen clothes in the hot month of August, and you could see a good many of the boys lay along the side of the road perfectly exhausted or overcome by the heat of the August sun. When we arrived at Bardstown, Kentucky, on August 28, 1862, the first night at about 2 o'clock the long roll beat, that means you must fall in line of battle for action, and such a scramble and a commotion you never saw. It was dark and you could hear such remarks as this, "where is my gun," "where is my cartridge box," "where is my canteen," "where is my haversack." So after quite a good while we were marched out and stood in line of battle until daylight. Of course the long roll was beat (on a Tanner drum) just for a mere sham, in order to teach us to get in line of battle quick, in case we should have been attacked.

I will never forget the first long roll that I heard beat. We marched from Bardstown to Lebanon, Kentucky, and there it was reported that we would be attacked by Forreste Rebel Cavalry. So we were put to work to get ready for the Rebels. We cut down an apple orchard of ten acres and trimmed up the limbs sharp so as to prevent the Cavalry from approaching us. We mashed down nigh twenty acres of green corn just nearly in roasting ears. We cut down large pine and fir trees and other shrubbery around private residences in order to get a clear view of the Rebel Cavalry, should they approach us but they did not come, they went some other way.

The ladies of Greensburg made us a large silk flag for our Regiment. They sent an old gentleman from Rush County, George H. Thomas to make us a present of the flag. He reached us while we were at Lebanon and times were looking so much like a battle that Mr. Geo. W. Thomas got a gun and cartridge box and said he would shoot as well as boys. (He was 75 years old.)

We were then ordered back to Lebanon where we stayed two days under (?) Then in a hurry up order we detailed for labor to load all the (?) of the cars and (?) them north to Louisville, Kentucky. Then we evacuated and marched across to Nunfordsville, there to check the advance of Gen. (?) of the Rebel Army, and on Sept. 16th and Sept. 17th 1862 were in forts and breastworks during the skirmishing and cannonading the advance of Braggs' army.

About 4 PM on August the 17th, 1862, the Rebels sent in a white flag (a white flag is a flag of truce), asking out commander to surrender , and he told them to go to Hell. Our Commander was General James A. Wilder , but after dark the Rebels sent in another demand for our surrender and told General Wilder that they had sixty-five cannon planted on us and could make mincemeat out of us (4500 troops) in two hours, when daylight came. So General Wilder said he was from Missouri, they had to show him. They escorted him around and showed him the cannon they had planted on us and he told them he would surrender in the morning. So during the night we were informed we would be surrendering under certain conditions. (The conditions was that the men were to keep their blankets, haversacks, and canteens).

We remained three days in the lines of the Rebel army, Braggs' army, then we were marched out of the Rebel army into (?), the Union army. We were paroled and ordered to get out of the state of Kentucky in 10 days, under the condition of our parole. We were then marched thirty miles south to Bowling Green, Ky. The officers said (they'd feed us?) but when we got there we just got one slice of soft bread and one tablespoon of Orleans molasses. Then we were thirty miles further away from the Ohio River than we were when we were captured. So then we started north-west across the country for the Ohio River. We found a few pumpkins, squashes, and greeb peaches, few Irish and sweet potatoes to eat on the march. We had very little to eat until we crossed the Ohio River at the ...about forty miles below New Albany, Indiana. But when we got on Indiana soil you ought to have seen the citizens flock to the crossroads and have seen the rations they had to hand out to us when we marched along. (God bless them.) They had corn bread, meat of all kinds, onions, potatoes, eggs and everything you could think of that you need to eat, and we did sure eat all they gave us. (We did not do like the Hobo, throw part of it away.

But on the morning of our capture, the saddest sight severn seen was the banners of each Regiment piled up on the breastworks and burned in plain view of all of us. (But they failed to get our Regiments flag.) Our Colonel had taken our flag and wrapped it around his body under his clothing and kept it concealed until we arrived at Jeffersonville, Indiana, and he drew the Regiment up in line and said to us boys, "Would you like to see the flag of the 68th Indiana Regiment?" (We all thought it was burned with all the flags at Munfordville, Ky.) "Yes, Sir", we all said and he brought forth our nice new silk flag and you ought to have heard the noise our Regiment set up for joy, and we carried that flag through three years service and brought it back home all tattered and torn and now it stands well cared for in the State House at Indianapolis, Indiana. The last time that the boys of the 68th Regiment had the old flag unfurled was at the Dedication of the Soldiers Monument at Indianapolis, and when we carried the old flag back to the State House, to be stored for safe-keeping, the old soldiers cried like they had lost their best and only friend. It was a sad parting for some of them never saw the old flag again.

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