I am perpetually thankful, not just during the month of Thanksgiving, to be afforded the opportunity on the venerated pages of the Caroline Review to spotlight notable members of our community who have been previously overlooked by some of the more traditional if not anachronistic keepers of local history. While I can hope that in the future there will be a comprehensive new bricks and mortar museum, active growth-oriented organizations, branded multi-media marketing campaigns, accurate highway markers, regularly-scheduled tours, school field trips, annual celebrations, and solemn memorials dedicated to the memory of these unsung individuals, for now I am pleasantly satisfied to extol the virtues of those impactful county residents in print.

To refresh the memory of readers, I have written about the usual headliners both famous and infamous before. People on both ends of the county continue to comment on original research I have published about the Andrew Jackson-Charles Dickinson saga, the Patty Cannon Gang, the Sallie Dean murder, the polarizing campaign stop made here by Franklin Roosevelt, philanthropic wordsmith Sophie Kerr, and the improbable appearance made by Nobel Prize recipient and Pulitzer-winning author Pearl S. Buck at Colonel Richardson High School. But I have also highlighted some of the more bizarre incidents or obscure figures such as patriot Matthew Driver, the elusive gravesite of Congressman Thomas Culbreth, the James Gordon Bennett duel, actress Madeline Hurlock, hiker Lloyd Carleton Gooden, sailor Monk Farnham, and countless others.

Still more columns fall under the heading of hometown heroes. Just last month I offered a tribute to incomparable civic icon Max Chambers in the Caroline Review. I have explained the legacy of E.E. Goslin in Federalsburg, the pharmaceutical breakthroughs of Henry Dunning, the ubiquitous presence of Jack LeGates, the impact of educator Wilbur Hoopengardner, the military career of James Fretterd, the feats of recordbreaking hang-glider Chad Elchin, and those are just the ones I can recall off the top of my head.

In that vein, this month I want to call your attention to a local doctor. No, not 20th Century notable Charles Stonesifer, who by the time the latest Caroline Review hits newsstands will have posthumously enjoyed a very fitting celebration in his honor by the fine people of Greensboro. I am instead focusing on a man from one town north and a century prior.
Griffin Washington Goldsborough was born in November of 1816 according to census records; other albeit less official sources say 1820. While some particulars are subject to debate, (“history is contested ground” remains one of my favorite lines), at least one thing is certain. Several Caroline County towns claim him as a favorite son.

Griffin was born in or near the village of Old Town (or Oldtown), which you now know as Goldsboro. More on that later. In the meantime, let’s focus on the fact that his initial call to public service was as a physician. Goldsborough graduated from the University of Maryland, then subsequently moved west to Louisville, Kentucky, and later St. Louis, Missouri, to practice medicine. He would eventually return to Delmarva, first to Seaford and then Old Town, Greensboro, and Denton, in that order. He was also a member of the Episcopal church in Hillsboro.

Pretty standard hometown hero stuff, right? Well, events took a curious turn in the 1850s. Goldsborough was elected to the Maryland General Assembly in 1859. To be sure, such leadership positions are a noble calling for some and a person must be respected in the community to receive enough votes to win a seat in the legislature or anywhere else.

Clearly, GWG had earned the respect of his constituents. But what he next did with his prominence was unpredicted if not questionable. In the chaotic era of the coming of the War Between the States, the War of Northern Aggression, or the American Civil War if one must use that misapplied moniker, (it doesn’t fit the definition of a civil war whatsoever but alas I digress), Goldsborough, a pro-secession legislator, traveled to Harpers Ferry, Virginia, to meet with Stonewall Jackson in the hopes of landing a prominent position in the Confederate military. By the way, if you are wondering, West Virginia had not yet “seceded” from Virginia so I stand by my geopolitical nomenclature. Ultimately, he was arrested and held at Fort Delaware, near New Castle, by Union officials. Apparently being a Southern sympathizer was a crime, regardless of the writ of habeas corpus — a number of other border state legislators, journalists, and telegraph operators were also detained at that fort or Fort McHenry in Baltimore during the early stages of the conflict despite the dubious constitutionality of such Federal actions.

Upon his release, while not serving the Confederacy in any military capacity, Goldsborough was known to have sent monetary aid and materials south. One would assume that considering the CSA lost its bid for independence and the prevalent existence of bureaucratic ostracism many ex-Confederates suffered during the Reconstruction Era, that the career and reputation of Griffin W. Goldsborough would have been ruined. Not so. He simply picked up where he left off and even diversified his local business ventures and political efficacy. For example, he was selected to be a director of the Maryland and Delaware Railroad that served stops from Oxford to Clayton, Delaware. He was returned to the Maryland General Assembly, even serving as a state senator. Goldsborough was elected to the legislature for a total of five terms, a testament to his popularity even in turbulent times. That undoubtedly says a great deal about the respect for a man’s convictions despite living in an era of uncertainty.

It should be noted that the name of Old Town was changed to Goldsborough during the zenith of his career. And why not? He was a local landowner, doctor, church leader, politician, and businessman at the time and from a local family that had previously and would continue to distinguish itself in the public eye. He continued practicing medicine until 1899, for the record. One could certainly conclude Griffin was an esteemed community doctor first and everything else second.

Goldsborough is buried in Greensboro Cemetery at the edge of town on Maryland Route 480. Visit his gravesite and pay appropriate respects if so desired. For that matter, Fort Delaware is now a state park in Delaware City and can be toured — especially around Halloween as part of their annual Paranormal Adventure events if readers are into that particular dynamic. Please let me know if the ghosts have anything to say, positive or negative, about my treatment of Delmarva history. I appreciate all informed feedback, even the supernatural kind. Tell the spirits they still need to cite their sources, however: proof is the currency of the academic realm no matter the pathological state of its debate raconteurs.

On a more serious note, those interested may also want to check out a 1986 book on local doctors put together by Christian Jensen if you’d like. I have used it as a jumping off point a few times. It is a hardback titled “Lives of Caroline County Maryland Physicians 1774-1984” and quite a few copies circulate locally. More recently B. J. Tarr of the Greensboro Historical Society published “My Little Old Towne Goldsboro” and cites GWG as the inspiration for her project. Enjoy.