Thursday, April 16, 2009
Washington and Lee book found after it was missing for 145 years
A book that was missing for nearly 145 years has been found and returned to the library.

Eric Brady | The Roanoke Times
Washington and Lee librarian Merrily Taylor holds a volume of a Napoleonic wars history book that had been missing for 52,858 days. No overdue fines are expected.
Mike Dau never thought that his overdue library book would make national news.
That will happen when a book has been missing for almost 145 years.
"I was driving to work and listening to a Chicago radio station," said Dau, a former college football head coach who lives and works in Illinois. "I heard them mention my name. I thought, 'Are they talking about some other guy?' Then, I realized, 'Holy mackerel! They're talking about the book!' "
Wednesday, it seemed that everyone was talking about "the book," a 167-year-old tome that had gone missing from the Washington and Lee University library during the sacking of Lexington in the Civil War in 1864, back before the place was even called Washington and Lee.
W&L announced Wednesday that volume one of "History of the War in the Peninsular and in the South of France," part of an exhaustive study of the Napoleonic wars penned by a long-dead British solider and historian named W.F.P. Napier, had been returned to the university after a 145-year absence. According to a release from W&L's communications office, the book might qualify as "perhaps the longest overdue library book in history."
The book's return -- which actually occurred in February, but the university's publicity folks just recently learned about it -- brought an end to a fascinating odyssey that began when a young Union soldier from Pennsylvania filched the book during the burning and looting of Virginia Military Institute on June 11, 1864. The book passed through three generations of one family until finding its way into the hands of a small-college football coach with a love of history and a desire to do the right thing.
"I just returned a book where it belonged," Dau said. "I guess it's kind of a feel-good story."
The book was published in 1842 by Philadelphia publishers Carey and Hart, the fourth edition of the American imprint of Napier's original 1828 work. The book itself may not have been considered that valuable if not for the note penciled inside by a young man named C.S. Gates, which read:
"This book was taken from the Military Institute at Lexington Virginia in June 1864 when General Hunter was on his Lynchburg raid. The Institution was burned by the order of Gen Hunter. The remains of Gen. Stonewall Jackson rest in the cemetery at this place."
Trouble was, Pvt. Gates (whose first name was Charles, according to a Civil War historian who contacted W&L) had actually taken the book -- or received it from someone else who had taken it -- from VMI's neighbor, which in 1864 was known simply as Washington College, named for the nation's first president.
Gen. David Hunter's mighty Army of the Shenandoah had swept into Lexington and burned the VMI barracks and other buildings, partly as revenge against the institute for having sent cadets to the battle of New Market. During the raid, more than 1,000 items were taken from the Washington College library.
"It was just so chaotic, soldiers might have gotten confused" about where they were, said Laura Turner, the technical services director for the W&L library. "VMI was burning, looting was going on all over."
Many items were recovered over the years, but the Napier book remained in the Gates family for an additional 120 years. Gates' grandson, Myron, was the last family member to own it.
That's where Dau comes into the picture.
Dau had befriended Myron "Doc" Gates and his wife, Isabel, as a student at Lake Forest (Ill.) College more than 40 years ago. He did some work for them -- house painting, yard work, gutter cleaning and other menial tasks. After Myron Gates' death in the early 1980s, Dau and his wife, Paula, remained close to Isabel Gates until her death in 1988, upon which she left Dau a large portion of her estate, which included the pilfered book.
Dau kept the book in his collection of other old books, most of them 19th- and early 20th-century books about football, a sport Dau head coached at Lake Forest from 1966 to 1991. At 73, he is a member of the school's sports hall of fame, and he is still an assistant football coach. He also coaches the school's handball team, which he started in 1968 and which recently racked up its 33rd national championship in 41 years.
Last year, while visiting family in western North Carolina, he stopped by a book shop in the small town of Tryon, where he mentioned the old book to the shop's owner, Harry Goodheart.
As it turned out, Goodheart is a W&L alumnus. In fact, the top fiction prize at the university literary magazine, Shenandoah, is named for his family. Goodheart asked Dau to send him the book. When Goodheart saw the name "Washington College" inscribed on the book's title page, he contacted Turner at the W&L library.
Turner found volume two of Napier's series in the university's special collections. That book featured the call number "E140" on the base of its spine. Dau's book was stamped with "E139" -- which would have placed it one spot before volume two on the shelf.
"Pretty good circumstantial evidence," Turner said.
Dau and his wife drove the book to Lexington to return it in person on Feb. 28. Turner accepted it as Paula Dau snapped a photograph. Turner thought the story would make a good article for the library's newsletter.
When people in the communications office saw the newsletter galleys, they had bigger ideas.
They issued a news release, which was soon followed by an Associated Press story that was picked up coast to coast.
By early Wednesday afternoon, Turner had conducted five interviews with local and national media. Shortly after hearing his name on the radio, Dau was on the phone with The Washington Post and the Chicago Tribune.
The running joke is that W&L waived the overdue fines, which the communications office estimated at the current rate of $1 a day for 145 years would come out to $52,858.
"They weren't going to press charges," Dau said.
Even Goodheart, the bookseller, was contacted by national media to recount the story of how a long-forgotten book made it back home.
"Its monetary value is not as valuable as the circuitous route it took from somebody's saddlebag to God knows where through several hands and several generations," Goodheart said. "It's a piece of history."





