Five Dollar Bill

Five Dollar Bill

It was 1967 and newspaper editors loved human interest stories as diversions from the deluge of so many Vietnam horror stories. They found one such diversion in a small nursing home in rural Pennsylvania. He was an old black man named Jeremiah and even in the nursing home, he was considered ancient. The white stubble on his face and the few remaining patches of hair on his head stood out on his weathered, brown skin. A flashbulb from one of the three reporters’ cameras made the old man blink.

"How old are you, Jeremiah?" asked a reporter as he snapped another photo. The old guy didn't seem to hear the question.

"He was born in 1858." said Mr. Fletcher, the home's Administrator, as he stood next to the old man sitting in a wheelchair. "We're proud to say that he will be one hundred and nine years old next Tuesday." Fletcher leaned over to shout into the old man's ear. "Isn't that right Jeremiah?"

The old man nodded, "Yup."

A nurse, standing on the other side of the wheelchair, added, "And he doesn't have even one bed sore."

Fletcher gently patted the old man’s back. "As you know Jeremiah is the last living person to have had personal contact with Abraham Lincoln," Fletcher said. "He’s regarded as a sort of historical national treasure. And I can assure you that everyone here at Mount Saint Elmo's treats him that way." Leaning over again, Fletcher shouted at the old man, "Isn't that right Jeremiah?"

The old man looked up at Fletcher. "You're gonna break my ear drums!" Everyone, except Jeremiah, laughed.

"Can you tell us how you met Abraham Lincoln?" a reporter asked. Jeremiah did not react right away. The reporter was about to ask the question again when Jeremiah slowly reached into the pocket of his robe and took out a Daguerreotype photograph. It was one of those real old metal photos you usually see only in museums. The reporters moved in closer as he held it up for them to see. The brownish metal plate showed a group of people sitting or standing on the front porch of a Victorian style house. Near the middle of the group, Abraham Lincoln sat on a rocking chair with his stovepipe hat resting on his lap. Nearby, a black woman stood with her hands resting on the shoulders of a small black child standing in front of her. They were the only black people in the photo.

With a quivering index finger, Jeremiah pointed out the people in the photo. "This here is Dr. Wills and this here is Missus Wills on the porch of their house." The finger moved to the black child. "This here is me with my mam." Jeremiah then poked the figure of the tall white man sitting in the rocker. "And that there is Ole Abe hisself. I don’t know who the other white folks was."

A reporter asked, "Where was the picture taken?"

"Gettysburg," Jeremiah replied.

Fletcher added, "The photo has been confirmed as genuine and it's been documented that Jeremiah’s mother did indeed work in that house as a domestic during the Civil War." That triggered a flurry of reporters’ questions.

"What was Lincoln doing there?"
"Do you remember him?"
"Did Mr. Lincoln say anything to you?"

Jeremiah waved a shaky hand to quiet them. He gazed at the photo that was almost as old as himself. "Mr. Lincoln asked me would I do a trade", the old man said.

"A trade?", a reporter asked.

Even Fletcher and the nurse looked surprised by this revelation. Jeremiah took his time remembering. He eyeballed each of the three reporters in turn. Then he asked them, "You heard of the underground railroad?" The three reporters nodded that they had. Jeremiah continued, "My mam and me was runaways from Virginia in eighteen hundred and sixty-three. Got as far as Gettysburg using the underground railroad. My daddy, he got hisself caught along the way and was sent back. Never saw him again. But my mam and me was takin in by Dr. Wills and his wife." Jeremiah held up the photo again and pointed to the house. "This here is their house. My mam worked for room and board for us and sometimes she would get a dollar. Sometimes, Dr. Wills would give me a couple of pennies when I helped him do something."

A reporter asked, "Was Dr. Wills a friend of Abe Lincoln’s?" Jeremiah glanced at the reporter and continued.

"Dr. Wills was the doctor in Gettysburg," said Jeremiah. "I guess he never went to war because he was old and had lumbago. But he was a good doctor. Right after the battle started…." Jeremiah looked up at the reporters. "You know the battle of Gettysburg?" All three reporters nodded and Jeremiah went on. "On the first day, rebs were in the street outside the house. I remember how scared my mam and Missus Wills was. Oh Lord, you should have seen them when the union soldiers tried to come into town and the shooting started. We laid on the floor and my mam and Missus Wills were shaking and moaning." Jeremiah chuckled, "You should have heard them when the knock on the door came."
The old man tried to clear his throat but was having trouble. The nurse poured some water into glass and handed it to him. He drank a few sips and handed the glass back. "At first, nobody moved. Then Dr. Wills got up off the floor and went to the door. When he opened it, there was three Johnny Rebs standing there. I thought my mam was going to have conniptions. The middle one was held up by the other two. He was gut shot. Blood all over him. I’ll never forget the sight. I was bug-eyed. They took him into Dr. Wills’ cuttin room and laid him on the table. I had to stay outside while Dr. Wills did what he had to do. All the while, one of the rebs stood guard at the front door. I couldn’t take my eyes off his musket with the long bayonet. Later on, Dr. Wills came out shakin his head and went into the kitchen. He was covered with blood. Missus Wills pumped water onto his hands and arms while he rubbed the blood off hisself. When nobody was looking, I peeked into the cuttin room. The reb had bandages wrapped all around his middle and you could see that he was still bleeding. His friend stood next to the table talking quiet to him. Then, all of a sudden, he ran to the kitchen door and yelled for Dr. Wills to come quick. Dr. Wills ran back in there but it was too late. The reb…he died. His friend folded the dead man’s hands on his chest and thanked Dr. Wills for trying to save his friend. Then he asked Dr.Wills if he would see to it that his friend would get a decent Christian burial. He said they would and the reb handed Dr. Wills a five dollar bill and thanked him again. Then they left in a hurry." Jeremiah tried to clear his throat but again, he had some trouble. The nurse handed him the water glass and he took a few sips.

Fletcher asked, "Are you alright, Jeremiah? Do you want to rest?"

The old man shook his head but said nothing. After another sip of water, Jeremiah continued. "Later that night, some Union soldiers came in and took the reb’s body out. Dr. Wills’ was showing Missus Wills the five dollar bill the reb had given him. Then he saw me looking at it and he called me over to show it to me up close. It had a spot of blood on it. Dr. Wills said, ‘This here is Confederate money, Jeremiah. It won’t be worth nothin before long.’ And then he gave it to me and said, ‘You take it, Jeremiah, and keep it to remember this day.’"

A reporter interrupted. "Do you still have it?"

Jeremiah didn’t even look up. "No," he said, "I traded it for something better." Jeremiah reached into his pocket again and produced a silver pocket watch on a silver chain. He dangled it in front of the reporters. "This here is Abe Lincoln’s watch. At least, it used to be", he said.

The reporters moved in again to get a closer look. It didn’t seem to be a very expensive watch, probably silver plated. But at least it still ran and only lost a couple of minutes each day, Jeremiah told them.

"How did the trade happen and what was Lincoln doing there?, a reporter asked Jeremiah.

"Mr. Lincoln was an overnight guest at the house because all the hotels were filled up. He came down to make a speech at the dedication for the new soldier cemetery," Jeremiah explained.

A reporter said, "That was when he made his Gettysburg Address."

"That’s right," Jeremiah continued. "After my Mam finished serving dinner, the men went into the parlor to smoke cigars and talk politics. The ladies stayed back in the dining room while my Mam cleared the dishes. Then, my Mam and me, we had our dinner in the kitchen. After a while, Dr. Wills came into the kitchen and told me that Mr. Lincoln would like to see my Confederate five dollar bill. Well, I had it in my pocket, so I took it out to give it to Dr. Wills. But he said that it was my five dollar bill and that I should be the one to show it to Mr. Lincoln. He said ‘Come with me, boy’, and we went into the parlor. Mr. Lincoln smiled when I came up to him and showed him the bill. He took it and held it up to the light in the oil lamp. Then Ole Abe says to me, ‘Jeremiah, how would you like to do a trade?’ And I says to him, ‘For what?’." Jeremiah smiled. "Everybody thought that was very funny." Jeremiah paused and gazed at the watch for a moment. "Then Mr. Lincoln showed me this here watch that he had in his pocket. It was a lot shinier then and my eyes near bugged out." The old man’s smile turned into a raspy chuckle. "Why, I shook my head as hard and as fast as I could to let him know that he had a deal. Lucky my head didn’t come off. Then he gave me the watch and here it is." Jeremiah proudly held the watch higher for his audience to see. After a moment or two, Jeremiah rested the watch in his lap and closed his eyes. The reporters waited.

The nurse whispered, "I think Jeremiah needs some rest now. Thank you all for coming…".

Jeremiah interrupted her. "I’m not done yet," he said as he opened his eyes.

A reporter asked, "There’s more?"

Jeremiah replied, "There is if you want to see the five dollar bill." The reporters immediately settled back down.

"You still have it?", a reporter asked.

Jeremiah gave the reporter a look of mock disdain. "No suh, I told you…I traded that for this here watch." The reporters waited for Jeremiah to continue.

Jeremiah explained, "The night Ole Abe died in that Ford’s theatre, they found a Confederate five dollar bill in his pocket. It still had that spot of Rebel blood on it when I saw it at the National Archives many years later. If you want to see it, just go there." Jeremiah closed his eyes again. "I’m gonna sleep some now, I think", he muttered as he closed his eyes once again.

As Fletcher motioned for everyone to quietly leave, one of the reporters took a last look at the watch on Jeremiah’s lap. He noticed there was a worn inscription on its back.

"Look at this," the reporter whispered. They tried to read it but it was in Latin. The watch was inscribed "Tempora quid faciunt."

"What does it mean?" someone asked.

Jeremiah, as if talking in his sleep, muttered "The times do change."