Glory, Glory

It had been a week of unparalleled, uninterrupted jubilation. Across its length and breadth, the Federal Union celebrated like it had never celebrated before. Millions of flags, great and small, were hoisted; hundreds of miles of bunting were draped or hung; cannons roared, rockets soared; men and women danced and sang, kissed and cried. After four bloody years of fear, pain, and frustration, the inevitable yet somehow startling words struck the country "like a thunderbolt."

"RICHMOND IS OURS," blared the headlines. "The Old Flag Floats over the Rebel Capital. . . VICTORY! THE UNION WILL BE PRESERVED!!"

"The news sped through the country on the wings of lightning," exulted the Chicago Tribune, "and lighted up the nation with a blaze of glory."

                  ~The Day Dixie Died, pp 3-4


With the fall of Richmond, the Confederate capital, the North began the celebration. Years of war, war with its fear, anxiety, grief, expense, loss, and more losses--war that seemed it would never end. I heard a man from the Middle East comment the other day that he feared tomorrow. Tomorrow is a terrible thought. Americans had lived that way for four years. With the fall of Richmond, the end was within sight. With the surrender of the Army of Northern Virginia, seemingly invincible, peace was at hand. The relief was simply, overwhelming.

And there, in the midst of it all, stood Lincoln. Reviled, ridiculed, and insulted on every hand throughout the ordeal, he had kept his promise to preserve the Union, and in the process, had brought an end to American slavery.

Maybe he was okay after all. There was a spirit of forgiveness, of forgiving the president for the ordeal of the war. Throughout the North, there was hope and anticipation for the first time in what seemed like forever.

Then he was gone.

Walt Whitman put that profound grief into poetry:

When lilacs last in the dooryard bloom’d,
And the great star early droop’d in the western sky in the night,
I mourn’d, and yet shall mourn with ever-returning spring.

From When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom’d

Take the time today to read this piece in its entirety.

Detail of Thomas Nast illustration for Harper's Weekly- Columbia mourning
the death of Abraham Lincoln (plus excerpt from Whitman's poem)

It is impossible to describe the reaction of America, the depths of grief and guilt and anger. The night of April 14, Northerners took to their beds with their cities illuminated and their spirits buoyed. They awoke to dread, a renewed anxiety that shook the foundations of not only the Republic, but faith itself.

How could this be? Why? Why? Why? Why was he taken now? We didn't have the chance to embrace him, to express our gratitude. And now it is too late.

We build him monuments and hope that he somehow knew.

The Day Dixie Died....Now on Kindle!!!

The Day Dixie Died is now available on Kindle for around $15. It is a depressing book, but it contains compelling true stories of the lives of Southerners after the Civil War was supposed to be over.

This was a collaboration with my former husband. As the word former implies, we did not always see eye-to-eye. I learned a lot from him and I learned a lot in the collaboration, but were I to write this book today I think it would be very different. The months and years of research that went into it revealed a world of incredible people, both historic and contemporary, for whom I am so grateful to know. Their presence in my life has made it much richer. I hope to share their stories compassionately and honestly throughout the months and years to come.

Now, back to the Civil War and Kansas.

April 4, 1865

Abraham Lincoln walked into the smoldering city of Richmond on this day in 1865. His son, Tad, tagged along. (Not with him was his wife, Mary, who had desperately wanted to accompany him on this momentous occasion--but that's another story.) Most of the white citizens who were left retreated behind closed doors and shutters and grieved for all their losses. The Black citizens met his boat at the dock and flocked behind him as he walked up the hill toward the Confederate White House. The smell of whiskey, tobacco, tar, and smoke combined with the warm day made it stifling. Lincoln took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his forehead.

Surrounded by hundreds if not thousands of people, Lincoln entered the home of his Southern counterpart, Jefferson Davis. He sat at his desk, but he did not gloat. This victory had come at a high price. . . for the North and the South.

In recent years, a statue of Lincoln and his son (above) was placed in the Confederacy's capital. For a city of monuments, there was controversy over this one. There shouldn't be. At that point in time, Lincoln was the best friend the South had. Sadly, he, and his policy of "let them up easy," would soon be gone and the aftermath of this terrible war would become even more divisive.

(For more, see our book The Day Dixie Died: Southern Occupation, 1865-1866. If you can't find it in the bookstore, email me for a copy.)

________________________________________

The Wonder of Kansas

Last night, my friend Janet and I were invited to attend the annual awards ceremony for the Kansas Association for Conservation and Environmental Education (KACEE). While several educators were honored, the big award went to Rex Buchanan of the Kansas Geological Survey. In every Kansan's library is a book called Roadside Kansas written by Rex and my friend, Jim McCauley, with PHENOMENAL photos by John Charlton. For all you folks who think Kansas is flat and boring, get this book!!!! Both Jim and John were guests on my radio show and their knowledge and experience is endless. ( I nearly fell off my chair laughing when Jim got a question and pulled out his pocket guide to "Geological Eras" or whatever it's called.) You can see more at http://www.kgs.ku.edu/. Visit this site. And again, I say, visit this site! The information and the photographs are priceless. What an incredible world we live in if we just take the time to explore and understand it.

Congratulations to Rex (right) on the John Strickler award last night and keep up the good work.

Black Confederates

Byron from Tennessee reports that all of Knox County has the hacking, hocking, malady from which I have been suffering. Sales of moonshine must be through the roof! "Government liquor," as Grandpa called it, just doesn't have quite the same medicinal quality. . . .

Major Melissa Tune, currently assigned to the Army's Command and General Staff College, is also a TV personality in Augusta, Georgia. She recently interviewed my bud LTC (ret) Ed Kennedy and myself for a special segment on black Confederate soldiers. Also weighing in on the discussing was Ethan Rafuse, from the CGSC's history department. She did an overview of of the subject as well as another story on the removal of a Confederate soldier's headstone in a Missouri cemetery.

It seems that someone called the cemetery claiming to be the descendant of John Noland, a black man who rode with William Clarke Quantrill. The descendant said that Noland was neither black nor Confederate and asked that the stone be removed. Actually, both Noland's race and his service are fairly well documented. Police were called and the incident is under investigation, but let me assure you, the local Sons of Confederate Veterans are outraged that a mere phone call could uproot a memorial marker.

While Tom and I were researching The Day Dixie Died, we stopped in the Augusta Public Library and were reading old newspapers on the microfilm. A black woman and her daughter sat next to me to work on a school project. Being unfamiliar with the machine, the lady asked me if I could help her thread the film. I hoped she wouldn't notice that on my screen was an ad for a slave auction in Augusta, in mid-April 1865. Listed for sale was a girl about the age of her daughter. I was so overcome I had to bite my lip to control my emotions.

And, lest any of you doubt the experts at my beck and call, this email from Col. Kennedy describes the photo at the top of the page:

Deb,

GREAT Photo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Post-war reunion photo:

#1 Not "Battle Flag" but the "Ensign"

#2 Shoes are 20th Century

#3 Canteen is Model 1885 U.S. Army canteen used until 1910

#4 Hat is Model 1875 U.S. Army "kepi" pattern. Used by fraternal and vet organizations

#5 Age of veteran

#6 "Uniform" is veteran reunion suit

#7 Veteran reunion ribbons and medals on uniform

Regards,
Ed

Dreaming of a Green Christmas

Abe is getting updated. The new, technicolor $5 bill goes into circulation March 13. Has anyone but me noticed that, just like some Latin American country, the more colorful our money is the less it's worth?

Speaking of money. . . .

We have four titles left for Christmas giving:

The Darkest Dawn: Lincoln, Booth and the Great American Tragedy (paper) $22

The Day Dixie Died: Southern Occupation, 1865-1866 (hardcover) $25

Bloody Bill Anderson: The Short, Savage Life of a Civil War Guerilla (paper) $15

We also have a handful of Stories in Stone, the book on Topeka Cemetery. They are $10 each.

We will happily take your check, or even bland, green money, autograph to whomever you'd like, and mail it to them for only $3 extra.

We have a brand new tour season starting in the spring, so watch our blog, historygypsies.blogspot.com for tour information, and read Tom's Wild West blog on historynet.com.
____________________________________________
Kansas Public Radio

Today was Kansas trivia day on KANU and I just happened to be listening (as I am every day) when they asked, "In which Kansas town did Elizabeth Taylor spend her first Christmas?"

Imagine how edified I was when Kevin S., a neighbor, knew the answer was Arkansas City because he read it in our Kansas Journal of Military History. Kevin had come by our house a few days ago and picked up a copy of Bloody Dawn, the only book of Tom's he had not read, as well as copies of our magazine. Bless his heart. . . .

Oh, and Elizabeth's paternal grandparents lived in Ark City, where she spent a lot of her childhood, and I believe attended kindergarten.

Harpers Ferry Honeymoon

Eight years ago this June, (seems like 20, doesn't it honey?), Tom and I were wading in the Shenandoah River at Harpers Ferry. It was after hours, so most of the offices and shops were closed, but it was still daylight and we walked out into the sacred waters. We were nauseatingly in love then, and I couldn't think of a more perfect place to be.

We were living in our camping trailer and writing The Day Dixie Died. We had camped at the KOA in Harpers Ferry, which is like living in a migrant camp. KOAs are great for some needs; privacy and space are not among them. But you usually get your own sewer hookup, which you really come to appreciate, and they are generally located near the places you want to see, i.e. Harpers Ferry.

Harpers Ferry is my favorite spot in America. I have always hoped to live there, if just for a year or so. I was a kid the first time we visited Harpers Ferry, (though I had plenty of ancestors there with Stonewall Jackson several years earlier). It was shrouded in mist and I was spellbound. John Brown loomed in the shadows, and the thunder could easily have been cannon.

Tom and I go to HF as often as possible. Just a few months ago, we stopped in and spent the night with our friends Tish and Peter Appignani. (We try to locate folks strategically around the country!) A couple of years ago, we happened by while Gods and Generals was being filmed. The town had been turned into the set for Fredericksburg and soldiers were mustering next to the canal. I spied our buddy, former Harpers Ferry National Park historian, Dennis Frye; but, since Dennis was orchestrating troop movements for the film, Tom didn't want to bother him. I went over and said hello, and immediately Dennis asked, "Where's Tom?" and went with me to find him. So many good, good memories.

Now Harpers Ferry has a rather ignominious designation. It's on the top ten of our most endangered battlefields, according to the Civil War Battlefield Preservation Trust. I'm not the only one that wants to live there, and the demand for housing is threatening to choke so many sacred places.

Of course, it's just a given that Chancellorsville, Gettysburg, Fredericksburg--anything within the epi-center of the Civil War--is threatened. I know it is always a balancing act; we can't save everything. But at some point in America, we have got to come to our senses when it comes to sprawl. Giving up the ground where our ancestors struggled and died just for Starter Castles and McMansions, Pizza Huts and WalMarts, and other symbols of "progress" is blasphemous.

On Lincoln, and the Courting Rituals of Nerds

It seems that Abraham Lincoln has been again voted the most revered president in history. Up until John Wilkes Booth shot him, he was likely the most hated president. His death catapulted him to martyrdom. So I have come to believe.

Not long after we met, several years ago now, Tom brought a box of notes over to my house. He already had the title, and he already had a good start on the research. All he needed was inspiration. Then he found me.

"This is a project I think you could get excited about," he said, as he laid the box at my feet.

That was the beginning of The Day Dixie Died. It had started with a story Tom found while researching another book. A lady in the occupied South had hanged herself rather than show mourning for the fallen president. That didn't fit with what we had learned in school. Hadn't the grief for Father Abraham been deep, universal, and flooding forth like the streams from the mountains? This woman's story said, no, there is more, and we set off to find it.

For two or three years, we lived as gypsies, as our friend Carol Neumann called us, wandering from dinner venue to lunch venue to archive to library--eating free, selling books, and researching the dark aftermath of the Civil War and Lincoln's death. The evidence began to pile up--the countless folks jailed for celebrating Lincoln's death, the people killed for shouting he should have been killed four years earlier. And all this was taking place in the North.

In the South, some felt they had been delivered from their greatest enemy and that God had finally heard their prayers. Others, though, realized that this was the greatest blow yet to the fallen country. Whatever their personal feelings for Lincoln, there were thousands, North and South, who never in their wildest dreams could imagine "The Baboon" would one day be named our greatest president.

_______________________________________

On the Road

Our research took us on an incredible journey. The first time we were invited to speak to a Civil War Roundtable and then stay at the home of our host, we were pretty nervous--Scottsdale, Arizona, Wes and Sylvia Schmidt. We drove up to their home. Looked nice from the outside. They welcomed us, and we could tell, there was a little trepidation on their part as well.

That night, or the next, whenever we were slated to speak, the person who was supposed to show up at the Arizona Historical Society and open the door, didn't. There we stood, dozens of us history geeks, in the parking lot when it began to storm, and lo and behold, there was a tornado. We could almost hear the wheels grinding around us: "Hey, these Kansans brought a twister with them to Arizona!" Nonetheless, one of the CWRT members invited us back to his office to speak and I turned over the trashcan to use as a podium. Folks, maybe a hundred of them, crowded into the cubicles, sitting on desks and leaning on file cabinets to listen. It was a wonderful evening. We bade a sad farewell to Wes and Sylvia--they were gracious hosts, but we had to move on to California and more talks. And there was no end to the research on President Lincoln. . . .

____________________________________________


Civil War News (word is that the North won, but we're still trying to confirm it. . . .)


Scott Porter, from the Command and General Staff College, Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, is speaking to the Topeka Civil War Roundtable Thursday night. His research on the battle of Camden Point, Missouri, is intriguing and Scott has found the Missouri/Kansas border war chillingly relevant to the topics he is teaching his students. Next Tuesday, February 27, our friend Rob Hodge (left, center, and right--that's right...it's modern techno hocus-pocus) speaks to the Kansas City CWRT on preservation, history, and moviemaking. He and his partners just won an emmy for their documentary The Battle of Franklin. Good work, guys!

_____________________________________

Western News

There is a documentary in the works on screen legend, Dub Taylor. Called, That Guy: The Legacy of Dub Taylor, the film is so named because people remembered Dub's face and not his name. Well, they've been talking to the wrong crowd, because I'll guarantee that everybody in our house knows his name. One of Tom's favorite movies, other than Tombstone, of course, is Bonnie and Clyde, and who can forget Dub as "Melvin," the father of C. W. Moss? But I'll always remember the Dub who was hiding under a table during a fracas in the movie The Undefeated. Trying to avoid the fight, he decided to reach up and grab vittles instead. What he came back with was a handful of "Grits!" Dub's first name was Walter, and as Southerners are wont to do, friends called him "Dubya." Now you know. Another reason for me to love Dub is the fact that he was born in Virginia (add another lustrous name to my list!) Visit the filmakers website at http://thatdub.com/