Non-fiction book review: “The Night the War Was Lost,” by Charles L. Dufour. Published by Doubleday & Company, Garden City, N.J., 427 pages, 1960.

By Bill Shearman

Special to the American Press

New Orleans, built on a swamp, is blessed and cursed by its strategic location on the Mississippi River. One hundred fifty-eight years ago this spring, it became the first and biggest prize of the fledging Civil War.

In this detailed book, Dufour, a walking encyclopedia of New Orleans, depicts a miasma of ineptitude as the Queen of the Gulf half-heartedly girds for war against the Union forces.

The War Between the States broke out in earnest on April 12, 1861 when the Confederates fired on Fort Sumter in Charleston, S.C. bay. The principal issue, perpetrated as “states rights,” was slavery, pure and simple, a young nation clearly divided.

No city was more adamant about succession than New Orleans. A noted pastor preached from the pulpit about “Damnation to abolitionists!” for hours.

New Orleans was the mercantile capital of the nation at war’s onset. Its port exported $109,389,228 of cotton alone in 1860 from a cosmopolitan city of 168,675 people, 64,621 who were of foreign birth or nationality.

It was also the nation’s largest slave market.

But almost as soon as the shooting started, New Orleans became increasingly strangled as the U.S man-of-war Brooklyn dropped anchor off Pass a Loutre Light (otter light), the eastern entrance to the Mississippi River.

As commodities became increasingly scarce in the city, Union forces invaded Virginia on May 24. In response, the Confederates won the first large battle, Bull Run or Manassas on July 21, which, benignly infused the south with false bravado.

Dufour makes the point several times that the Confederacy placed most of its hopes on England or France – or both – recognizing the Confederate states. That never happened – it was a pipe dream – which vaporized completely when New Orleans fell.

In addition, New Orleans was totally nonchalant about its defense. A militia was formed, uniformed themselves splendidly, had lots of parades and led by ringing bands, marched everywhere.

New Orleans ladies sensed things might not always be so carnival. They began preparing for warfare, and as one grande dame noted, “Every evening after dinner, we adjourned to the back lot and fired at a target with pistols.” Someone was paying attention.

The city’s vulnerability was from the river. If New Orleans could be captured, the Confederacy would be split in two, the southern states to the east could not be reinforced and all maritime commerce would be to the Union forces.

U.S. President Abraham Lincoln agreed. He commissioned Flag Officer David Farragut to lead an armada up the river and take New Orleans. He was to ask the city for unconditional surrender, if successful.

The distance from the Gulf of Mexico to New Orleans is 125 miles. About 40 miles upriver, were two forts at Plaquemine Pass, Fort Jackson (west) and slightly north, Fort St. Philip (east). The river takes a big left-hand turn there which exposes shipping to cannon fire from both banks.

Additionally, New Orleans built a chain across the river, using iron chain linking sunken hulks, thinking it a non-navigable deterrent. The Mississippi River in the spring, however, is a raging bull and a permanent chain was more false bravado.

The Union began bombing the two forts with mortar fire on Good Friday, April 18. For six days, the forts fired back as Farragut massed his flotilla of 14 man-of-wars just beyond cannon range.

On April 24, at 1 a.m. on a moonless night, Farragut weighed anchor and against cannon fire from both forts and from the vessels back, turned the night into a huge illumination of destruction.

Farragut got all of his vessels upriver, passed English Turn on April 26, then Chalmette. What was left of the Confederate defense of the city opened fire – Farragut responded with broadsides from his ships and the capitulation was over in 30 minutes.

There was some back and forth between the city fathers and Farragut for two days about whose flag should fly over the city but the city eventually surrendered without a shot being fired.

It was the death knell of the Confederacy, three years before the war actually ended. On April 18, 1862, Norfolk, VA had fallen and the Confederacy’s lone naval hope, the ironclad Merrimac was seized.

The loss of New Orleans meant the Confederate armies of Louisiana, Arkansas and Texas were cut off as well as Texas beef and the invaluable salt from Avery Island.

Dufour cited 72 pages of reference material in composing this book. An additional treat is Chapter 15 beginning on Page 207, which Dufour titles “If There Had Been Radio.” In the middle of this historical treatise, a narrator takes over and encapsulates the entire battle as commentary.

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Charles “Pie” Dufour spent his entire career at The States-Item and The Times-Picayune newspapers. I was fortunate to be his coworker for the years 1970-75. Pie died on May 27, 1996 at 93.