DILLER/NICHOLAS CODORI CONNECTIONS TO GETTYSBURG by Phil Cole

Prepared 12/11/22

The great grandfather of Richard and Catherine Codori Cole’s ten children was SIMON J. DILLER of French descent.  The Diller family was represented in the civil war by four brothers, including Simon, who fought in major battles in the South.

They were an extraordinarily “large” family [see photograph’s description below]. In 1867 Simon was married and had five children including Carrie Mary [our grandmother who married into the Codori family]. After the war Simon was proprietor of the “McClellan House” [Presently called Hotel Gettysburg].

In 1892 Simon fell down a flight of steps at the train station in Harrisburg.  He was confined to bed for several weeks, gangrene set in, and left leg was amputated by Dr. O’Neal. Ellen Diller, could hear from downstairs the sawing of her husband’s leg.  He died 4 days later.   His body was too big for a coffin.  Instead a packing crate for shipping coffins was used.  The pallbearers were unable to get the makeshift coffin down the steps and had to remove a window and lower it from the second floor.  The coffin/crate was too large for a hearse and required the use of a hardware store cart to deliver Simon to the train for disposition.

 Simon Diller’s Daughter [Our grandmother]

Codori Connection

Carrie Diller married William Codori [Grandson of Nicholas Codori who owned the farm involved in Pickett’s Charge.]

  Mr. Nicholas Codori, born in Hottviller, France, emigrated in 1828.   He was the leading and best known butcher in this section. Shocking Accident: In 1878, after breakfast one morning, he hitched his lively young colt team to a spring wagon and drove to his farm. Planning to mow, he transferred his colts from the wagon to the mower. The rattle of the machine and noise of the blades frightened the colts which started to run and he was thrown on the blades of the mower. He was found about a half hour later by a farm hand who saw the horses standing idly in the field.  Nicholas’ right foot was severed from the leg above the ankle, shockingly cut and injured in the groin. He was sensible and gave orders to be driven to town and his severed foot to be brought along with him. He remained in a sitting position and greeted acquaintances along the way. 
   Dr. Horner amputated below the knee, because the bones were badly splintered. His groin injuries were serious and proved fatal. He died the following week. He was in his 70th year. (source: Catherine Codori Cole & http://codorifamily.com/nicholas_j_codori.html)

Another Connection – Paul L. Roy [our uncle]

 Arguably, the last battle of the Civil War took place in 1935 in Amarillo, a city that had not even existed in the 1860s.  But fast talking by a young Yankee newspaper editor and the resulting change of attitude on the part of an aging Confederate veteran led to a peaceful gathering of old soldiers who had fought on both sides.

  Held at Gettysburg in July 1938, it proved to be the last reunion of the Blue and Gray.  The pivotal conversation that made the reunion possible happened on Sept. 2, 1935 in the lobby of the Herring Hotel, then Amarillo’s largest and fanciest accommodation. The Panhandle city was hosting the 45th annual reunion of the United Confederate Veterans.

“For three days, the aging veterans, and their legion of friends and admirers throughout the Southland, streamed into the city, and a capacity crowd filled all hotels,” Gettysburg Times editor Paul Roy recalled.  While Amarillo businessmen enjoyed the merry ca-ching of their cash registers, Roy faced a serious problem.  Only once had veterans of the North and South met together in peace, and that had been in 1913 to mark the 50th anniversary of the decisive Battle of Gettysburg.
Now Pennsylvania wanted another, larger reunion in 1938. If that happened, everyone realized it would be for the final time. Seven decades had passed since the conflict ended, and old soldiers died every day.

The trouble for Roy, and everyone else advocating the reunion, was that the man who headed the UCV [United Confederate Veterans] adamantly opposed it. Unreconstructed, he still wasn’t over the war.

Roy arrived at the Herring to find the lobby “jam-packed” and a “bedlam of confusion – of talk, laughter, and music.” Confederate banners hung from the mezzanine railing and gray-headed, gray-bearded Rebels, men who had killed and seen their comrades fall, mingled surrounded by people with smiles on their faces.  If many of the old soldiers had not moved beyond their enmity for the North, the federal government had. The U.S. Marine Corps Band had traveled to Amarillo to entertain all, and when the sharply dressed men in blue struck up “Dixie,” the veterans cheered and let loose with Rebel yells.

One man stood out in the crowd. Tall, ramrod straight and with well-groomed gray hair, he looked in charge and he was. His name was Harry Rene Lee, but to all the other old soldiers, he was Gen. Lee, UCV commander-in-chief. “Possessing a striking personality, and an inflexible will that knew no quarter, Lee dominated the organization,” Roy wrote. “Although ruthless when dealing with malcontents, and so-called reactionary groups, he was a tireless worker in behalf of pensions and other benefits for worthy Confederate veterans.”

At the 1934 UCV gathering, a delegation from Pennsylvania had first proposed a Blue and Gray reunion. Then the organization’s adjutant general and about to take over as its ranking officer, the bull-headed Lee would not even discuss the possibility. “Tell them to go to hell,” he told reporters.  As soon as Roy saw the chance, he walked up to introduce himself to the “General.” Before the Keystone State editor could say his name, Lee interrupted to pronounce “no, emphatically and positively,” to the notion of his organization meeting with “those damn yankees.”

Lee then touched off a volley of verbal abuse. Hearing the invective, other old rebels gathered around to enjoy the show while adding their own sneers and jeers.  When Lee had emptied his figurative artillery, Roy wisely said he understood how he felt about the North. Even more astutely, the newspaperman did not try to argue the point. Instead, he politely asked if he could just make his case.

Ever the Southern gentleman, Lee agreed to listen so long as Roy didn’t take too long.  Talking fast and sweating profusely, Roy told Lee about the 1913 Gettysburg reunion and that the Pennsylvania governor at the time had invited the old soldiers from both sides to return 25 years later. Trying to stay calm, Roy then outlined the grandiose plans for the 75th anniversary.

Suddenly, Lee moved closer and slapped Roy on the back.  “Why in the hell didn’t you say that before? Of course I’m for the reunion,” the general said loud enough for everyone to hear. “We should get together. We should be friends. Come, let’s go have a drink.”

By the summer of 1938, only 8,000 or so Civil War veterans still lived. Of those, 1,845 made it to Gettysburg – 1,359 former Union soldiers, 486 old rebels.

One man who did not was Gen. Lee. He had died at 90 in Nashville on March 28. Source: http://www.texasescapes.com/MikeCoxTexasTales/Blue-and-Gray-Reunion.htm

Paul Roy was the Executive Secretary for the dedication of the Eternal Peace Light monument at the 75^th battle anniversary and final North/South reunion in 1938.  His name is mentioned at the bottom of the inset below.

 Paul Roy talking to JFK