He was born in 1842/43 (4 (18 in 1861), 6 (18 in 1861)). He was born in Amley, New Jersey (4).
When he enlisted, he was 5 feet 5-1/2 inches tall, and had a light complexion, light eyes, and light hair (4).
He enlisted and was mustered into service on 11, 20 [or 30] November 1861 (1 [H: 30, K: 20], 4 [20], 6 [11]). He was enlisted for three years, at Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, by Charles L Zinn [?] (4, 6). He was mustered in a private, in company K, by Lieutenant Morris Kayser (1, 6, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12).
He was transferred on 24 December 1861 or 22 February 1862 to company H (1, 5 [22 Feb 62]). He had rifle number 79 (4).
He was initially listed on the plaque recording men who fought at the Battle of Gettysburg, but his name was later deleted (7).
He deserted on 7 July 1863 while on the march near Frederick, Maryland (1, 3, 4).
On 28 July 1863, he was reported as having been dropped because he was missing in the campaign (probably after 11 June 1863) (2). He was a private in company H (8, 9, 10, 11, 12).
1 Bates, Samuel Penniman. History of Pennsylvania volunteers, 1861-5. Harrisburg: B. Singerly, state printer, 1869-71. 5 volumes. 'Ninety-first regiment', volume 3, pages 186-233. (In the roster) (Amos Heaveland)
2 consolidated morning report, 91st PA, 28 July 1863 (Pri Heaveland [?])
3 company H, register of deserters, #21 (Amos Heaveland)
4 company H, descriptive roll, #61 (Amos Heaveland)
5 company K, list of men transferred, #25 (Amos Heavelan [sic])
6 company K, descriptive roll (Amos Haviland)
7 card, with the original version of the 91st PA plaque on the Pennsylvania memorial at Gettysburg (from the papers of William C Reiff; thanks to Susan Stickles!) (Amos Heaveland)
8 index to compiled service records of volunteer Union soldiers who served in organizations from the state of Pennsylvania (Amos Heavelin)
9 index to compiled service records of volunteer Union soldiers who served in organizations from the state of Pennsylvania (Amos Havaland)
10 index to compiled service records of volunteer Union soldiers who served in organizations from the state of Pennsylvania (Amos Haviland)
11 index to compiled service records of volunteer Union soldiers who served in organizations from the state of Pennsylvania (Amos Heaviland)
12 index to compiled service records of volunteer Union soldiers who served in organizations from the state of Pennsylvania (Amos Heaveland)
I do not know which, if any, of these is the Amos Haviland who served in the 91st, or the Amos Haviland who was killed in 1898 (see some reports transcribed below).
Another Amos Haviland of approximately the right age lived in New York state. However, the Amos Havilaand living in Bedford, Westchester County, New York, served in company I of the 95th New York infantry, according to the 1890 veterans schedules. I have therefore assumed all the following Amos Haviland's are not the Amos Haviland who served in the 91st Pennsylvania:
An Amos B Haviland lived in Warren County, New York; he was born in August 1833, and hence is probably too old to be my Amos Heaveland. (His mother was Flora Haviland, born about 1804/05.) He was married to Maryetta [unknown family name] (born January 1844, New York), in 1868/69.
An Unusually Intelligent Jury Secured to Weigh the Evidences [sic] of Guilt and Innocence--Court Room Crowded Early in the Day to Utmost Capacity. At Nine O'Clock Hundreds Were Waiting for the Court Room Doors to Open--This Will Be Mr. Bayard Stockton's Last Case as Prosecutor of The Please--Captain Holt and James A. Clark Represent the Prisoner--A Twice Told Tale of How the Tragedy Occurred.
The story of the killing of Amos Haviland with an axe on the 29th day of last November in a house on Spence farm, near Windsor, for which Clarence Doyle was today placed on trial in the Mercer Court of Quarter Sessions, is as follows:
Clarence Doyle is now but seventeen years of age, and has passed the greater portion of his life in that part of this city known as Chambersburg. A short time prior to the tragedy he secured employment on the farm of the Allentown Presbyterian church, better known as the "Parsonage Farm." Doyle was a good workman and well thought of by his employers. Early on Sunday morning, November 28 last, the day of the crime, Clarence went over to Page's Corner, near Windsor, to see Fred Haviland, a son of the murdered man, who lived on a place known as "Spence Farm." There were other visitors there that day--Amos Haviland, his wife and daughter--and reports say that the greater portion of the day was spent in carousing and drinking hard cider.
The afternoon was nearing its close when the fatal quarrel started that terminatd so disastrously for both Clarence Doyle and Amos Haviland. What started that quarrel is one of the things that the present trial is expected to develop. There are two stories which have been given to the public--one, that Doyle had been entirely too intimate with Amos Haviland's wife, who is a woman in the neighborhood of forty years of age, and the mother of thirteen children. This story is emphatically denied by Mrs. Haviland and her children, and as they were the only ones present at the time, their story will go a long way toward influencing the jury that is to decide whether Clarence Doyle is to be allowed life and liberty or whether his crime must be atoned for by death on the gallows or imprisonment in a cell.
If the story of the origin of the quarrel, as told at the coroner's inquest by Mrs. Haviland, her son, and daughters, be true, then, indeed, was the primary cause of Amos Haviland's death a trifling matter. Amos Haviland had a little daughter named Hattie, who was in need of a pair of eyeglasses, which her father had refused to buy. A certain Samuel Mitchell, who resided near Spence farm, is stated to have said:
"Any man who would let his little girl go blind for $2.50 ought to go to the devil."
It was this remark that caused all the trouble; it is because of this remark that Clarence Doyle is now standing trial for his life in Mercer Court.
Haviland mumbled and muttered over this supposed insult until he had worked himself up to the "fighting mad" state; then, as witnesses testified at the inquest, without any provocation whatever he rushed upon Doyle and a fierce struggle ensued. This much of the fracas occurredin the presence of the women, but Fred, fearing that his mother and sister might get hurt in the melee, hurried them into another room, leaving his father and Doyle to fight it out alone.
Nobody knows what occurred after that. The occupants of the next room heard the men quarreling in loud voices, but could hear no blows being struck. Then Haviland went out to the yard and got the axe from the wood pile, re-entered the room, and, smashing in the door where the women were, he walked in and threw the axe over in one corner of the room.
Doyle had followed Haviland into the room, and going over to where the axe lay he picked it up, went back to where Haviland was standing with his back toward him, and swinging the axe over his head, Doyle struck the blow that caused the farmer's death.
But Doyle did not know that the blow had been fatal, so he walked back to the Parsonage farm at Allentown that night and went to work as usual on Monday morning, where he was captured by Constable Bergen shortly before noon that same day.
Since that time Doyle has been confined in the county jail, where he has been a model prisoner, causing the keepers no trouble whatever, and making many friends. He, apparently, does not as yet realize that he has been guilty of any serious crime.
The defense will be conducted by Captain W. D. Holt and James Clark, and will practically be that Doyle acted entirely in self-defense. The trial of this case for the commonwealth will be the closing act of Prosecutor Stockton in his official capacity of prosecutor of the pleas of Mercer county.
Hundreds of eager, excited, curiosity seekers thronged the entrance to Mercer County Court House as early as 9 o'clock this morning, and from that hour up to the familiar "Oyez! Oyez!" of Crier Pierson, the stream of humanity continued to flow into the court room, until it was literally packed: but among this large assemblage there were but few ladies.
A few minutes after 10 o'clock Justice Gummere and Judge Woodruff took their places on the bench, and almost at the same moment Constable Cupple [?] appeared with the prisoner, Clarence Doyle, the boy who is not on trial for the taking of the life of a fellow man.
Doyle was nattily attired in a black suit, white shirt, standing collar and a neat dark tie. He looked unconcerned and smiling. Shortly after taking his seat his counsel, Captain W. D. Holt, came over, and after shaking hands prisoner and counsel chatted together for some minutes.
Prosecutor Stockton and Detective Clancy occupied the other table, and nearly all the seats inside the railing were filled with the lucky ones who were fortunate enough to hold tickets entitling them to that privilege.
When Justice Gummere called the court to order, County Clerk Gummere called off the panel of the jury. All were present.
Then came the drawing of the jury which is to decide Clarence Doyle's fate.
"Edward McCue," called the clerk. "Juror look upon the prisoner, prisoner look upon the juror: do you challenge?" McCue was accepted.
The drawing of the jury occupied just one hour, during which time thirty jurors were called. The eighteen objections were divided as follows: By the court, 1; defense, 13; state, 5. The jurors accepted were:
Edward McCue, Trenton; Christopher Walsh, Trenton; John Cubberly, Hamilton; John E. Gordon, Trenton; Thomas H. Eaton, Trenton; Edwin S. Applegate, Hamilton; Alfred S. Pittenger, Trenton; J. Wesley Reed, Trenton; Samuel J. Temple, Trenton; General John C. Owens, Trenton, and Isaac V. Davies, Trenton.
The constables of the jury are Messrs. Graw, Norris, Huff and Dallas.
Immediately after the constables had been sworn in, Justice Gummere addressed himself to the jury, as follows:
"You will understand, gentleman, that from now on until the time you will find a verdict in this case of the state against Clarence Doyle, you will be sequestered from your homes and families, so if you have any arrangements to make in connection with your families you will have an opportunity to do so at this time."
A majority of the jurymen accepted this privilege.
The brother and sister of the accused arrived in court at this time. The sister was crying quietly, as she came and took a chair at the prisoner's side. He smiled at her reassuringly and clasped her hand.
In opening the case for the state, Prosecutor Stockton said: 'The grand jury found a true indictment against Clarence Doyle in these words: 'That on the 28th day of last November, in the township of Hamilton, Clarence Doyle did wilfully, with malice, premeditation and aforethought, kill and murder and commit other wrongs on one Amos Haviland.'
"This, gentlemen, the state claims is murder in the first degree, and we shall ask for such a verdict in this case between the state and the prisoner which you will be called upon to decide."
Mr. Stockton then briefly reviewed all that transpired on that 28th day of last November, from the time that Doyle and the elder Haviland's family arrived at the house of the son, Fred Haviland, up to the time when Fred and his little sister Hattie came back from chasing Doyle down the lane, after the fatal blow had been struck. The story in detail is told above.
In concluding the prosecutor said: "The state will insist on a verdict of murder in the first degree, inasmuch as the killing of Amos Haviland was willful, deliberate, premeditated and with malice aforethought."
E. G. Weire was the first witness called. He testified to the making of a survey of the scene of the tragedy, and of afterward producing the sketch which was now before the court. The condition of the interior and exterior of the house was minutely described, also the location of the blood spots in the so-called parlor where Amos Haviland received the blow that ended his life.
The cross examination was very minute. Captain Hold was extremely careful not to let the slightest point escape his vigilance. He drew from Mr. Weire that the average size of the blood spots were [sic] about six inches in diameter.
As Mr. Stockton called the name of the next witness for the state, necks were craned in all parts of the room, for the witness was Fred Haviland, the son of the murdered man. As Fred took his seat in the witness chair the prisoner, for the first time, assumed some interest in the proceedings. Every few minutes, as some vital question was asked, Doyle would glance quickly up at the man. Doyle's sister was no longer crying, but was listening attentively, eagerly to every word that fell from young Haviland's lips. She apparently realized that what this man said had much to do with her brother's fate.
Fred Haviland said he had lived in the house where the tragedy had occurred about two and a half months.
"Do you recollect the 28th day of November?"
"Yes, sir."
"Did your father come to your house on that day?"
"Who came with him?"
"Clarence Doyle and Lizzie."
Witness [sic] then told how he, Doyle and his father went over to a neighbor's and drank some sweet cider and then returned to his house.
"Who did you find there?"
"Mother, my sisters Lizzie and Hattie, brothers Dick and Howard, Joe Jordan and a man named Decker."
"What occurred after you got home?"
"Mother told father what Mitchell had said: 'Any man who would see his little girl go blind for $2.50 ought to go to the devil.'"
"What happened next?"
"Doyle said something."
"Well?"
"Then father pushed Doyle in the corner."
"Did you see any blows struck?"
"No."
"Then what did your father do?"
"Why, Joe Jordan was standing by the sofa and father went over to where he was and pushed him down on the sofa and began to talk to him."
"What did you do?"
"I went and told Doyle he had beter go out."
"Did you do anything else?"
"Yes, I pushed all the family out of the kitchen into the parlor and locked the door."
"What did you do that for?"
"I was afraid they might get hurt."
"Who was left in the kitchen after you pushed the family out?"
"Father and Doyle."
"Anybody else?"
"No."
"What did you do after you got in the other room?"
"Held the door knob."
What happened while you were holding it?"
"It was struck and smashed in."
"What did you do?"
"Ran upstairs."
"Alone?"
"No; Joe Jordan went with me."
"What did you hear up there?"
"Heard them all holler in the back room."
"What did you do then?"
"I came out in the hall."
"Hear anything more?"
"Heard somebody holler: 'You have killed him.' Then I stuck my head out of the window and saw the axe come flying out."
"Did you hear anything?"
"I heard mother say: 'You have killed him, Clarence: you have killed him! Oh Amos." Then I jumped out on the roof and saw Doyle come out with his overcoat."
"Did he say anything?"
"He said: 'Your father hit me between the eyes.'"
"What did Doyle do then?"
"Started to run. My little sister Hattie ran after him, and I started after them."
"Did you catch them?"
"No."
"What did you find in the house?"
"Found father lying on his back in the parlor, and he was breathing and bleeding from the mouth."
"Ran out and sent for Dr. Sittvers."
"Was anybody drunk on that day?"
"No, sir."
The axe was then shown to the witness by Prosecutor Stockton, and was identified.
The witness was tured over to the defense for cross examination.
"Do you remember your testimony at the coroner's inquest?"
"Yes."
"At that time you testified correctly as to how your father was killed?"
"Yes, sir."
"Have you not repeatedly talked of this trial, the killing, and of what you were to swear?"
"No."
"Have you talked of this affair to your mother?"
"Yes: seven or eight times."
"Have you not repeatedly said you would like to see Doyle hung, and that you would like to be the man to do it?"
Prosecutor Stockton--"I object."
Judge Gummere--"Witness must have his attention called to the time and place where he made such statement."
Captain Holt, pointing to Lawyer Clark--"Did you not, at your house, say, in the presence of this gentleman, that you would like to see Doyle hung, and would like to be the man to do it?"
"I said I would like to see Doyle hang, but I did not remember saying I would like to be the man to do it."
"Will you swear you did not say so?"
"No."
"On the afternoon of the accident, while you, your father and Doyle, were crossing the field, were not your father and Doyle apparently on the best of terms?"
"Yes, sir."
The cross examination of Fred Haviland was still on when The Times went to press.
The coroner's inquest held yesterday in the case of Amos Haveland, who was killed last Sunday by Clarence Doyle, of this city, returned a verdict of death at the hands of the above-mentioned Doyle. The story, as told yesterday, was as follows:
Haveland had a little daughter, Hattie, who was boarding at the house of a man named Sam Mitchell, near Page's Corner. Haveland had rented a house in this city and expected to move here in two weeks. Accordingly he told his wife to go to Mitchell's house and get Hattie and take her to the house of his son Fred, at Page's Corner, where they would all stay until they moved here. Haveland went to his son's house Saturday night, leaving his wife and daughter Lizzie to follow on Sunday, which they did, stopping on the way for Hattie. Now it seems that Hattie had some trouble with her eyes and needed glasses. Mitchell spoke to Mrs. Haveland about it, and told her that "any man who would let a little girl go blind for $2.50 ought to go to the devil." Mrs. Haveland reported this to her husband when she met him at her son's house, and it angered him very much. He talked about it for some time, and finally, so all the witnesses say, without any provocation proceeded to fight with Doyle, who was present. In order that none of the women and children present might get hurt in the fight then in progress Fred haveland pulled them into another room, leaving the two men to fight it out alone. None of the witnesses heard any fight in the room, but they did hear loud and quarreling voices. At length Haveland wanted to get into the room where the women were, but he found the door locked. He went out into the yard and got an axe with which to break open the two doors which barred his way. Without a word he entered the room where the women were and threw the axe in a corner. Doyle, close behind him, did not speak to him, but picked up the axe and struck the fatal blow.