During the Civil War, fund-raising fairs united the Union

Vincent Fraley

is communications manager for the Historical Society of Pennsylvania

As with many wars, some people expected the American Civil War to be brief and cheap.

After the attack on Fort Sumter in April 1861, Northern newspapers were quick to forecast a short struggle. "Jeff Davis & Co. will be hung before the 4th of July," the New York Herald Tribune reported immediately after the bombardment.

Southern politicians were even more sanguine in their predictions: Confederate Secretary of War Leroy Pope Walker asserted that the Stars and Bars would "fly atop the Capitol in Washington before the first of May."

As losses mounted on both sides, it became clear that the war would, in fact, be long, bloody, and expensive.

The total cost to the federal government has been estimated at just over $5 billion - about $69 billion in today's money. Victory never comes cheap.

How did the Union, stripped of 11 states' worth of revenue, afford this gargantuan sum?

A federal income tax was instituted, but taxes, customs duties, and other revenues accounted for only a third of the war's costs.

For matériel such as bandages and other medical supplies, much of the money was raised through grassroots efforts, and Philadelphia did its share for the cause.

The Great Central Fair, held in Logan Circle 150 years ago this summer, perhaps best represents this patriotic crowd-funding in Philadelphia.

The Philadelphia Sanitary Fair, as it was also known, was a primary fund-raising effort of the U.S. Sanitary Commission (USSC). The commission, a precursor to the American Red Cross, organized "sanitary fairs" across the Northern states to help support sick and wounded Union soldiers. Philadelphia's fair in 1864 was a part of this series of charitable bazaars.

Following the success of the Chicago fair in the autumn of 1863, the Union quickly became stricken with what may be diagnosed as "Fair Fever." Each city attempted to out-fund-raise the others, trying to be larger in size and scope than the last.

The Great Central Fair was one of the grandest and most successful. Amazingly, its organization began in January 1864, just five months before its June 7 opening. Philadelphians from all over the city - white and black, men and women, schoolchildren to tycoons - donated their time and energy to raise money and coordinate activities.

Many joined the nearly 100 USSC committees, each responsible for a different aspect of the fair. The Committee for a Day's Labor, for example, developed its "One Day Campaign," which lobbied for "a day's labor, a day's income, and a day's revenue from every citizen, firm, and company."

A sprawling 200,000-square-foot structure in Logan Circle testified to this communal effort, built in just 40 days by volunteer craftsmen. James Queen realizes the fair's breadth in a color lithograph.

Philadelphian Charles Stillé compared the fairgrounds to St. Peter's Basilica in Rome, with "the vastness of the cathedral's long drawn aisles and its moral impressiveness as a temple dedicated to the sublime work of charity and mercy."

The comparison would not have been much of a stretch for Stillé; the cathedral of SS. Peter and Paul, which faces Logan Circle, was in the final stages of its own construction.

The fair saw an average 29,000 visitors each day during its three-week duration. Admission was $1. Its planners had a keen sense of the public's palette. Then, as now, a feeling of altruism pairs well with a bit of fun.

There was much to do: Horseshoes were fitted, rare flowers sniffed, Turkish cigarettes smoked, fruits waxed. Brewers stanched summer thirsts while children gaped at "Curiosities and Relics."

Booths of "Arms and Trophies" and "Trimmings and Lingerie" competed for the attention of adolescent boys. The more mature perused galleries of fine arts, contemplating works such as John Vanderlyne's American masterpiece Ariadne Asleep on the Island of Naxo, one of the first nudes exhibited in the United States.

All fairgoers were encouraged to cast a dollar vote for their favorite Union general. Gen. George Meade, the gallant of Gettysburg, collected the most votes and with it a ceremonial sword. The outcome may have shocked Meade himself - his notoriously prickly personality with civilians had earned him the sobriquet "Damned Old Goggle-Eyed Snapping Turtle."

So popular was the fair that President Abraham Lincoln even made an appearance. Lincoln stopped in to sign 48 copies of his Emancipation Proclamation, which were sold for $10 apiece at the fair.

Despite the entertainments offered, wounded and sick Union soldiers were always in focus. A broadside printed before the fair's opening instructs citizens to sew socks, perennially in short supply in the field, and a common gripe of all soldiers. Voluminous amounts of warm clothing and other creature comforts sorely missed by young men far away from home were collected, in addition to traditional medical supplies.

By June 28, 1864, the final day of the Great Central Fair, the USSC had raised more than $1 million - nearly $14 million today.

During an era when fund-raising galas and charity auctions were uncommon, the sanitary fairs promoted a sense of patriotic philanthropy among a city's citizenry. For the many unable to enlist or ineligible for the draft, as well as the families of serving soldiers, these fairs provided a communal outlet to channel support for the Union cause. Philadelphia can be proud of the Great Central Fair and the spirit it evinces.

The Historical Society of Pennsylvania's document display, "Crowd-funding in the Civil War: Philadelphia and the Great Central Fair," features one of the copies of the Emancipation Proclamation signed by Lincoln. Like the Great Central Fair, the display is open to the public. Unlike the fair, it is free.