Capt. William H. – (1819-1900) was born in Kingwood Township and was a merchant and postmaster in Baptistown. He was township clerk and represented Kingwood as a county freeholder. In 1854 he moved the Frenchtown and conducted a general store and also a hardware store. He was also involved in building the Baptist Church.
In 1862 Slater named a son George W. Eddy Slater in honor of the hardware merchant who was married to his sister Rachel Jane.
With a wife, an aged mother, and seven children, William Slater could have easily sat out the Civil War. But he was a colonel in the local militia, and when President Lincoln called for more troops in 1862, Slater said, “I think it is my duty to go. After all these years of playing soldier, I should feel like a shirker not to go.”
He got 100 of his militiamen to enlist, and they became Company G of the 15th New Jersey Regiment, and he was commissioned as their captain in August of 1862.
But the following December at Fredericksburg, Va., a bullet went through his knee and shattered his femur nearly to the hip. After lying several hours on the battlefield under a crossfire, he was carried to the Burnett house, a residence turned field hospital. The regimental chaplain Alanson Haines recalled, “Surgeon Sullivan examined the wound, and to his question, 'Shall I lose my leg?' answered, 'Yes, I think so.' The captain was overborne at first, but when laid upon the amputating table, he submitted with much Christian fortitude.”
Slater's wife, nee Susan Risler, left Grandma in charge of the kids, came down to Alexandria, Va., where the captain was struggling for life in the 500-bed Mansion House Hospital. With the medical staff overwhelmed, healthier men than Slater were dying. But even though she was not welcome there, Susan slept on the floor beside his bed and “after many anxious weeks of tender nursing and watchful care, the battle for his life was won,” Slater's daughter Hannah later recalled. Eventually he was able to return to Frenchtown.
“His return was a great day for the village,” according to Hannah (1845-1931). “All our small world turned out to do him honor. American flags were flying everywhere, bands were playing, and a carriage, gaily decorated in red, white and blue, and drawn by four white horses, brought Father and Mother from the station, while all the church bells rang their welcome.” The captain was “white, wasted and crippled.”
In his absence, dishonest clerks had plundered his store, and Susan had been compelled to sell it at a loss, according to Hannah. So to support his large family, Slater decided to stay in the Army and “put his business ability at the disposal of the government.”
They moved to 1406 Pennsylvania Avenue, Washington, D.C., and Slater was put in charge of the commissary depot at Chain Bridge, a few miles outside the capital. His boss, a general, had been a friend of his predecessor. Without consulting the general, his higher-ups had replaced his pal with Slater. To express his pique, the general made Slater's life miserable by shunning him and working directly with the lower-ranking clerk. Firing the captain would be his likely next step, the clerk confided to Slater.
When Slater spoke at home of this distressing situation, teenaged Hannah suggested he appeal to President Lincoln. Slater said Lincoln had troubles enough, and he wouldn't dream of adding to them. The Army also believes in following a chain of command that would prevent a soldier from crybabying to the commander-in-chief. But teenage daughters are not in that chain. During a sleepless night, “with courage born of despair, I determined I would go to see the president myself,” Hannah recalled. She got up early, put on her Sunday frock, and with hair carefully braided and beribboned, stole away to the White House.
After a wait of several anxiety-filled hours, she was ushered into the presence. Lincoln sensed her fear. He stood up from his armchair and beckoned, saying, “Come this way, Sis. Come this way.”
He radiated gentle interest, and Hannah told him about her father's personal loss at Fredericksburg. Lincoln groaned, “Oh, what a terrible slaughter that was! Those dreadful days! Shall I ever forget them? No, never, never.”
Hannah outlined the current problem, and Lincoln took a notebook from a pocket, wrote something in it, and said, “I will look into the matter myself, and I will see to it personally that no further injustice is done to him. He can rest assured that he will either be retained in his present position or have a better one. It will all come out all right, I can promise you.”
A few days later, the boss paid a visit to Slater's station and greeted him with a polite “Good morning, Captain!” Apparently a presidential tune-up had improved the general's attitude and relations ran smoothly from then on.
The Slaters remained in Washington after the war, but visited Frenchtown occasionally, as noted by the Star. The 1870 Census has Slater in the “clothing, boot & shoe” business and in 1880 when he was a “gen'l broker,” whatever that is. The Frenchtown Methodists' 1895 anniversary book places the captain in Washington, too.
When he died, services were held in the Frenchtown Baptist Church and his mortal remains were buried in Frenchtown beside those of his wife. Their graves are marked by a zinc monument, and Slater's drummer John V. Gordon is buried about 30 feet away.
Hannah married Horace Greeley Jacobs, a disabled veteran of the 6th Maine Regiment, who had risen from private to lieutenant in the course of the war. They had a daughter, Frances, and she wrote up her mother's story for the February 1932 issue of Good Housekeeping magazine. Horace and Hannah are buried in Minnesota.
From "Rick's Frenchtown Encyclopedia"
Slater and Lincoln, two great people.