- I can’t believe I forgot to mention this until now, but it’s time for John Sevier Days Living History Weekend at Marble Springs State Historic Site in Knoxville, TN. The action starts tomorrow and continues through Sunday—reenacting, demonstrations, food, and presentations on the Lost State of Franklin and King’s Mountain. It’ll be a blast, so stop by if you get the chance.
- While we’re talking about Marble Springs, let me also recommend a great way to support the site and get some nifty benefits for yourself. Join the Governor John Sevier Memorial Association and you’ll get free admission when you visit, discounts on gift shop items, access to special events, and more. Memberships start at just $25.
- Late September-early October is King’s Mountain season. If you can’t make it to Knoxville for the Marble Springs event, there’s another option for those of you in southwestern Virginia. On Sunday, Abingdon Muster Grounds is hosting Sharyn McCrumb, who will read from her new novel about the battle. They’ll also have living history demonstrations and the unveiling of a new painting of William Campbell, whose unit marched from Abingdon to Sycamore Shoals to meet the other Overmountain Men.
- Some Connecticut parents are quite understandably upset over a school function where students got a taste of slavery…including the racial slurs. What. Were. They. Thinking?
- Here’s a Rev War infographic from 1871.
- Some folks are working to preserve the area around Kettle Creek battlefield in Georgia.
- A supplementary AP history text is drawing criticism for the way it refers to the Second Amendment.
- Next time you’re driving through Shepherdsville, KY keep an eye out for the new John Hunt Morgan mural on an underpass along Old Preston Highway.
Tag Archives: Civil War
An anonymous donor found it in a book that belonged to Chamberlain’s granddaughter and turned it over to the Pejepscot Historical Society in Maine. Its authenticity has been confirmed. The Chamberlain medal held by Bowdoin College is an updated version issued later; I’d always assumed it was the original one.
I don’t really care what people call it, but the term “War Between the States” wasn’t all that common during the war itself. It didn’t really come into common use among Southerners until after the whole thing was over. If “Civil War” was good enough for Davis, Lee, and Forrest, you’d think it would be good enough for the UDC.
In some European countries, the common name is “War of Secession” (Guerra de Secesión, as the Spanish put it). Maybe we should start using it here in America; I think everybody could agree that “War of Secession” is pretty accurate.
WaPo examines the different ways libertarians interpret the Civil War, from those who embrace neo-Confederate ideology to those who are embarrassed by it.
My main complaint with neo-Confederate libertarians who vent their rage on the Lincoln administration is their failure to follow through on their arguments. Sure, the Union government became more centralized and invasive in order to fight the war, but so did the Confederate government. Governments usually become more centralized and invasive in wartime as a matter of course, simply because a war requires nations to marshal their resources and suppress dissent more effectively than in peacetime. That was the case for the Union, and it was certainly the case for the Confederacy.
And if you’ve got philosophical problems with the Union’s attempt to block secession, shouldn’t you support independence for Unionist majorities in East Tennessee who tried to stay out of the Confederacy?
I’m uncomfortable with any attempts to moralize history by trying to identify who was on its right side and wrong side, but if you’re going to go down that road, at least be consistent about it.
Check out Jesse Smith’s piece on the two faces of Gettysburg (hat tip: John Fea). One is the solemn and scholarly face of the park, the museums, and historic sites; the second is the kitschy face of the tourist attractions and amenities that have sprung up around the battlefield.
Like Smith, I’ve got to admit that I like some of the hokey tourism-driven aspects of Gettysburg, even though I’m in favor of returning things to their circa-1863 appearance to as practical an extent as is possible. Hokey tourist traps have become an indelible part of the Gettysburg experience, just as the hokey roadside attractions devoted to gunfighters and lawmen are an indelible part of my memories of visiting the West with my parents. (I draw the line at ghost tours, however. I’m not sure why, but the very notion of ghost tours near a battlefield rubs me the wrong way.)
Of course, I’m not old enough to remember a time before all the tourist traps and gift shops, so they’ve always been a part of the only Gettysburg I know. My affinity for . If new ones started popping up near some relatively undeveloped historic site, I’d probably be up in arms. I guess what I’m saying is that when we’re considering the maximum level of tolerable kitschification at historic places, our opinions will partly depend on subjective and personal factors and on our own personal memories of the places in question.
I followed Robert Moore’s suggestion and watched the commemorative Pickett’s Charge march via the Codori Barn webcam this afternoon. USA Today says about 1,000 people participated. At most, that’s only around one-twelfth the number of men who made the attack, but it was still pretty neat to watch such a large crowd moving across that ground. The webcam has a mic, too, so there were plenty of Rebel yells to accompany the visuals.
If you didn’t get to watch it live, you can still see an archived replay and some still shots at the Codori webcam site.
Several years ago, when I was in the museum business, we decided to do a temporary exhibit on the Gettysburg Address. I e-mailed the NPS to see about borrowing a few artifacts, and they graciously obliged us with some fantastic material. Somebody had to drive up to Pennsylvania to pick it up.
I had never been to Gettysburg, and I was always looking for an excuse to get out of the office anyway, so I booked a rental van to haul the artifacts and got a good friend of mine to tag along, and off we went. Both of us had been on a Civil War quiz bowl team in high school, and everybody on the team had talked vaguely about making a collective trip to Gettysburg over the years, but it had never worked out so that all of us could go at the same time.
Some history road trips get added value from the landscape along the way, and this was one of them. It was a beautiful drive northward through the Shenandoah Valley along I-81. The background music, unfortunately, was ill-suited to the occasion. This was the year that Nelly Furtado’s song “Promiscuous” was released, and for some reason it seemed to be playing incessantly on every single radio station during the drive up. To this day, I associate that song with Gettysburg. (Weird, I know, but your brain is gonna do what your brain is gonna do.)
We got there just after sunset, with just enough daylight left to make out some monuments and wayside markers. There are football towns and college towns and music towns; Gettysburg was a history town. The restaurants were named after generals, the stores sold Confederate t-shirts, and our hotel had Troiani prints in the lobby. It seemed like there was a museum or attraction on every corner. The place had this irresistible mixture of historic architecture and landscape alongside examples of tourist kitsch, a combination I’ve never encountered in the same way anywhere else. It sounds jarring, but it worked; it had an appeal all its own.
The old visitor center was still open then, but many of the artifacts had been moved out in preparation for the opening of the new building. We watched the electric map show and checked out the exhibits, case after case after case full of rifles, swords, and bullet-riddled doors. Then it was out onto the battlefield itself.
We did the “must-see” highlights, the high-water mark and Little Round Top and all the rest of them. All those places mentioned in books and labeled on maps were really there, not as ink on paper but as soil and rock and vegetation. It was like meeting a celebrity and realizing that behind the magazine covers, movie posters, and TV appearances is a real live human being who is standing right in front of you. Right there was the stone wall, and over there was the copse of trees, and there was that hill, all of them instantly recognizable and looking like they hadn’t aged a day since Gardner had taken his photographs.
Like a lot of historic sites, this one had a personality all its own, with its open fields framed by hills and mountains. It looked the way Gettysburg should look, an appropriate arena for a great contest, as if the landscape had known that two armies would be meeting there and had been arranging itself for the occasion. Maybe not for the war’s most decisive battle, but certainly its definitive one.