Follow the Money
Trace what happened to the cannon fund as a wartime purchase became a postwar question of commemoration.
An interactive chronology
In 1861, Pennsylvania’s organized teachers voted to buy a cannon for the Union. Follow the project from patriotic idea to wartime delay, presidential acceptance, failed ordnance test, and a postwar turn toward memory and education.
Three focused paths through the story
Trace what happened to the cannon fund as a wartime purchase became a postwar question of commemoration.
See what kind of three-inch rifled gun the teachers bought—and why the weapon failed at Frankford Arsenal.
Walk with Pennsylvania teachers across a battlefield where the physical traces of war were still plainly visible in 1866.
The chronology
Twenty-four moments trace the cannon project and the educators whose work outlasted it.
At the Pennsylvania State Teachers’ Association’s annual meeting, a loyalty resolution pledged support for the U.S. government in its struggle for national existence and freedom. During the debate, J. P. Wickersham proposed using the Association’s roughly $300 fund toward a cannon; F. A. Allen urged additional subscriptions, and Thomas H. Burrowes was authorized to purchase and present the weapon.
On August 14, the Daily Pittsburgh Gazette announced the teachers’ plan and identified Burrowes as the man charged with purchasing and presenting the “big gun.” The next day, a fuller account reproduced the loyalty resolution and specified that the Association intended to present a rifled cannon bearing its name.
On September 12, Phoenix Iron Works offered the Association a rifled gun of the same sort being made for the U.S. government for $330. By November, the teachers were confronting the full practical cost of the project: roughly another $300–$350 for a carriage, with available funds still to be sorted out.
By late 1861, the cannon project had moved into active statewide fundraising. The Journal asked county educators to help finance a “new rifled cannon,” while earlier convention proceedings show that collections and accounting were already underway.
Lt. C. B. Brockway of Battery F, 1st Pennsylvania Artillery, asked that the Teachers’ Cannon be placed with his battery. He explained that the captain, lieutenants, and nearly all noncommissioned officers were former teachers and that the battery already had six three-inch wrought-iron rifled regulation guns.
After the planned annual Association meeting was postponed, F. A. Allen asked what would become of the cannon. Burrowes reported about $600 raised and said the sum was enough for the gun, carriage, and equipment except horses.
By the time Burrowes reached Capt. E. W. Mathews at Hall’s Hill in early September, Battery F had been shattered at Second Bull Run and Brockway was a prisoner in Richmond. Mathews asked Burrowes to wait because the battery’s armament might change; within weeks Battery F fought at Antietam, suffered further losses, and Mathews left command—showing how quickly the intended recipient was changing while the cannon project lagged behind.
By August 1862, the Journal warned that renewed troop calls would draw still more teachers into military service. By November it estimated that at least 800 male teachers had been drafted and at least 1,000 more had volunteered since June, showing how deeply the war was draining Pennsylvania’s teaching profession.
An article on the effects of the war on female education discussed the growing demand for educated women, especially as teachers. It shows how the profession was changing while the cannon project remained unresolved.
In a later published abstract of his 1866 essay, George F. McFarland said that during the first day at Gettysburg he led “full sixty teachers” into battle west of the Seminary. The retrospective claim becomes central to the story’s postwar interpretation.
At the 1863 Reading meeting, Burrowes reconstructed the long-delayed cannon project, republished key correspondence, and gave a detailed accounting; the Association unanimously accepted his explanation. It then renewed the appropriation, reaffirming its commitment to complete the Teachers’ Cannon even as the war had transformed both the profession and the battery once proposed to receive it.
Burrowes formally tendered a three-inch rifled gun to the United States, and Secretary of War Edwin M. Stanton placed the teachers’ act of patriotism before President Abraham Lincoln. Lincoln accepted the gift and thanked the Association for this evidence of its “patriotic devotion” and contribution to the nation’s loyal public sentiment.
At Frankford Arsenal, federal ordnance inspection found a deep crack across the bottom of the bore, and three test rounds widened the defect. The gun was rejected for field service; Phoenix agreed to build a replacement, but wartime demand delayed it.
The minutes record only that S. S. Jack read “a letter from Dr. Burrowes in regard to the Teachers’ Cannon.” Its contents are not printed or summarized, making it a conspicuous gap in the surviving published record.
Forms and instructions identify Burrowes as superintendent for destitute orphans of deceased Pennsylvania soldiers and sailors. The item is not a cannon event, but it shows how his wartime educational responsibilities were expanding while the cannon matter continued.
Government demand delayed the replacement gun until the close of the war. Once the war ended, “the matter was allowed to rest”: the project failed not because the teachers abandoned it, but because the conflict ended before the replacement could be completed.
At Meadville, the Association received a complete official account of the Teachers’ Cannon: the purchase, Lincoln’s acceptance, the failed ordnance test, the defective carriage, and Phoenix Iron’s unrealized replacement agreement. It then redirected the remaining “Teachers’ Cannon Money” toward a monument honoring Pennsylvania teachers who had died in the war—the clearest institutional turn from weapon to commemoration.
Several hundred teachers and local residents gathered at the National Cemetery. George F. McFarland called the assemblage to order, M. L. Stoever presided, and Maj. Harry T. Lee read Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address; the Journal then urged teachers to have pupils commit the Address to memory.
David McConaughy explained the work of the Gettysburg Battlefield Memorial Association and described Gettysburg as a perpetual teacher of the nation. Burrowes proposed battlefield shares for leading Soldiers’ Orphans schools, and roughly thirty-five shares were subscribed.
At Gettysburg, the Association learned that a dedicated monument to Pennsylvania teachers who died in the war would cost far more than the available fund. Instead, it documented a smaller but concrete act of commemoration: five $10 shares in the Gettysburg Battlefield Memorial Association, while the remaining money continued to be held and invested.
The Journal published what it called a “full abstract” of McFarland’s essay. He argued that teachers had materially helped win the war and urged educators to “re-burnish your arms for new battles with ignorance and passion.”
Across the next several years, Association treasury balances and U.S. government bond holdings continued to grow, ending with $725.02 in the treasury in 1869. But the later reports no longer identified any portion as “Teachers’ Cannon Money,” so the surviving accounts cannot prove exactly how the former cannon fund moved through these balances.
The Superintendent’s annual report explained an increase in male teachers by noting that many young men who had been absent in the army for several years had returned to school-room duties. The item provides a postwar bookend to the earlier evidence of teachers leaving for service.