As soon as
the news of the capture of Camp Jackson reached the city the condition
of affairs was changed. Union men became rampant, aggressive, and, if
you will, intolerant. They proclaimed their sentiments boldly, and were
impatient at anything like disrespect for the Union. The secessionists
became quiet but were filled with suppressed rage. They had been
playing the bully. The Union men ordered the rebel flag taken down from
the building on Pine Street. The command was given in tones of
authority and it was taken down, never to be raised again in St. Louis.
I witnessed the scene. I had heard of the surrender of the camp and
that the garrison was on its way to the arsenal. I had seen the troops
start out in the morning and had wished them success. I now determined
to go to the arsenal and await their arrival and congratulate them. I
stepped on a car standing at the corner of 4th and Pine streets, and saw
a crowd of people standing quietly in front of the head-quarters, who
were there for the purpose of hauling down the flag. There were squads
of other people at intervals down the street. They too were quiet but
filled with suppressed rage, and muttered their resentment at the insult
to, what they called, "their" flag. Before the car I was in had
started, a dapper little fellow--he would be called a dude at this day
--stepped in.
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