As always with this blog…one subject often leads to another in surprising ways.

The mention of the “German Yagers” in the article about Lt. Chandler’s reburial also spawned some interesting additional info. The company, as the name suggests, was a militia company made up of mostly German immigrants living in Nashville (Jaeger is German for “hunter” and indicates light infantry or riflemen). Forty-seven strong originally, the unit was formed in 1858 and often appeared with the socially-prominent men of the “Rock City Guards” on public occasions – such as the time in 1859 when the two companies hosted the “Chatham Light Artillery” of Savannah who came on a visit to Nashville. The units attended balls and social functions, and even laid a wreath at Andrew Jackson’s grave at the Hermitage. And one suspects, the Chatham boys treated their hosts to their famous punch and left everyone with glorious hangovers.

The Yagers had a reputation for military smartness, and the uniform they wore was super snazzy: a dark green frock coat with light green collar and cuffs, piped on the edges in red. Trousers were light gray with a green stripe up the side seams, and (true to their name) they carried rifles with “short swords” (probably the “Mississippi” rifle and its sword-bayonet.) The headgear was described as the same as that worn by the “U.S. Riflemen” – presumably the regulation “Hardee” hat worn by the Regiment of Mounted Rifles. The sketch (right) shows their probable appearance.

The company was given an upstairs room in the Market House on Public Square as their meeting place, and were presented a flag by the German ladies of Nashville. Despite their vow to avoid “politics,” that was not to be. In 1861 they volunteered to go off to fight for the new Confederate government and expanded to a full 100-man company. Changing their name to the “Tennessee Riflemen” (probably to appeal to non-German recruits), the unit became Company E of the  1st Tennessee Infantry. Very few of them returned at the end of the war.

Tennessee’s first prison was opened just after New Year’s, 1831.

Inspired by the “Pennsylvania system” pioneered at Eastern State Penitentiary, it was intended for reform as much as punishment. In theory the prisoners would work at a trade and use their off hours to reflect on the magnitude of their transgressions. In fact, it didn’t take long before the place disintegrated into chaos, and from the beginning it was plagued by disease, violence, abuse, and filthy living conditions.

The original building was intended to house 200 prisoners, but it was soon found necessary to expand to keep up with a growing population. The “Jail and Penitentiary House of the State” was perpetually overcrowded, adding to the general misery within.

Originally it was situated outside the city limits, but by the middle of the 19th century the town had grown past it, and the location became part of Church Street. The north wall of the complex ran along modern-day 16th Ave. South (known originally as “Stonewall Street”). The red tile roof became an uncomfortably familiar sight to inmates, who soon nicknamed the place “Old Red Top” – a name that would later be transferred to the “new” State Prison built in 1898 (known today as “the Castle“).

And, as with all human endeavor, someone had to be first.

Tucked away in the prison records is the name of a pioneer – the very first man ever incarcerated in prison in the State of Tennessee. His name was George Washington Cook, and he entered the joint on January 21, 1831.

Cook was born in Kentucky  in 1810 and raised near Nashville before moving to Madison County during the land rush following the eviction of the Chickasaws from their native land in the “Jackson Purchase” of 1818. There, he followed the tailor’s trade.

He was convicted of “malicious stabbing” in the county circuit court, and sentenced to 2 years in prison. On entry into the new facility, the clerk noted for posterity that he was “six feet high, light hair, blue eyes, fair skin,” and had “a scar on his left thumb an inch long.” He did his time quietly and was released on schedule on Jan. 21, 1833. The clerk noted his conduct as “very good.”

Afterwards, he faded back into the shadows of history – one hopes with a better handle on his temper in the years to come.