Weather Report

Just returned from a bike ride, and ironically, the tornado siren went off. (See Tom's blog for today at wildwestblog.blogspot.com) I was riding at Gage Park (named for Civil War Veteran Guilford Gage, by the way), and Tom was riding on the Shunga Trail. So, I'm tooling along enjoying the balmy weather when the siren blares. I scanned the skies. Nothing. A few wispy clouds; but the air is a little heavy, and that's indicative of tornado weather. I watched the traffic on 10th Street. Nothing special; maybe fewer cars. I saw no one scrambling for cover. So I kept riding. Turns out it was a test. I probably failed.

I was driving back to Topeka from Manhattan a couple of years ago--Manhattan, Kansas, "the little apple"--when the most horrific storm came up. I was on U.S. 24, 2-lane most of the way. I thought the hail would break the windshield. As I passed homes along the way, there were the native Kansans, standing on their porches watching. Finally, fraught to a frazzle, I took refuge in a pizza joint with three teenagers manning the store. The power went out. We sat close to the plate glass windows and wondered if we should take cover somewhere else. But the sirens hadn't gone off, so we just sat and watched.

I often wonder about the Indians, and whether or not they ran for shelter, huddled and prayed, or just smoked and waited when these terrific storms swept the plains. Likewise, the early settlers. The canvas of a wagon seems a pretty paltry shelter.

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Odds & Ends

The event season is upon us! So many things coming up, so many emails coming in. I'll try to get these sorted and pass them along. Spoke with friends in Denver this morning and spring is reaching the Rocky Mountains. In Charlotte, North Carolina, my daughter reports she's gazing at cherry blossoms outside her office window for two weeks. Our tulips are up, Tom saw daffodils today, the neighbors' crocuses are blooming, and I, ever the impatient one, have been putting out silk tulips and pansies on the porch and along the fence. Last night my neighbor came over to ask if they were real. "Nope," I replied, "Hobby Lobby."

She shook her head. "It's so obvious you're not from Kansas."

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Photo of the Day





















Although his visits to the battlefields were cordial, everyone knew that Abraham Lincoln liked to keep an eye on his generals.

Nothing New

There is NOTHING new under the sun.

According to various news reports, a senior Taliban commander was captured by Afghan troops near Kandahar. The man, Mullah Mahmood, was wearing a burqa, which is a tentlike, all-covering garment still worn by many women in the countryside. As with every single headline that comes across the screen, this reminded me of an incident from the Civil War.

Jeff Davis Captured in Hoop Skirts!

Jeff in Petticoats!!

He is Caught in His Wife's Clothes!!!

Thus ran the headlines when Confederate President Jefferson Davis was captured May 10, 1865, near Irwinville, Georgia. Fleeing the falling Confederacy with his wife and a handful of escorts, Davis was awakened by the sounds of skirmishing on that fateful morning. When Varina figured out what was happening, she threw a shawl over her husband in hopes he wouldn't be recognized. He was not wearing a dress, though the Northern press had a field day reporting that "fact" and dozens of images of Jeff in disguise were printed. A few righteous souls, however, like this gentleman from Maine, spoke up:

I was with the party that captured Jeff. Davis; saw the whole transaction from the beginning. I now say . . . that Jeff. Davis did not have on at the time he was taken any such garment as is worn by women. . . . I defy any person to find a single officer or soldier who was present at the capture of Jefferson Davis who will say, upon honor, that he was disguised in women's clothes. . . I go for trying him for his crimes, and if he is found guilty, punishing him. But I would not lie about him. . . .

Good man that he was, no one was listening. They heard and believed what suited them best. Sometimes I wish I could watch the news and not be skeptical, and even though I really trust most reporters (afterall, I was one once), I don't always trust their sources. There is always too much politics involved, just as the sketch shows (above, right). This is the official War Department sketch of the clothing Jeff was supposedly wearing when captured. The actual garments had been placed in a safe. Secretary of War Edwin Stanton, now effectively running the country since Lincoln's death, ordered these clothes placed on a mannequin and that is the image released to the press. The caption reads: "The clothes in which Davis disguised himself (from a photograph taken at the War Department by Alexander Gardner)."

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Emails

From Scott Porter this morning. . . .

While at Barnes and Noble last night I picked a magazine named "Missouri Life." Inside of the Feb 2007 edition is a great article on the Confederate Home at Higginsville. Get this, the name of the article is..."HOME OF THE BRAVE." Its a GREAT article with lots of great pics of the old vets and buildings. At the end of the article it states "One of the best times to visit is during their annual memorial weekend, which is scheduled on a Saturday near the June 3 birthday of Confederate President Jefferson Davis. The date for the 2007 memorial service is June 2. Graves are decorated with flags, and reenactors take on the roles of past Confederates, helping vistors to learn about life and issues of past times." Also inside the same edition a piece and picture on the Bushwhacker Museum (Nevada, Missouri).

-Scott

DG-Thanks for passing along the tip. Scott is an instructor at the Command and General Staff College at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, and a first-rate Civil War historian. If you've never visited the Confederate Cemetery (left), it is well worth your time to get off the interstate and make the short drive. Among the notables bured there is William Clarke Quantrill, Confederate guerrilla chieftan. Likewise, the Bushwhacker Museum is a great trip if you're in the neighborhood. Tell our good friend, Pat Brophy, we said "hello."

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Fast Time

"I hate this old fast time!" Granny complained about few things, but when it came to setting the clocks ahead, she let it be known where she stood. She despised it. I inherited this trait, and few things tick me off like losing an hour in the spring. I nearly go "postal." Yesterday, everytime I looked at the clock, it seems it had in fact leaped forward, a half hour, 45 minutes, when I'm sure it had only been five minutes since I last checked! I hate this "fast time" and live to get that hour back in the fall. I only fear, that in my lifetime, they will take that hour and never give it back. When I was a kid, the deacon of the church would not observe Daylight Savings Time, since God observed Eastern Standard Time. So during the summer, he had the church keys and folks would show up an hour early, wait for him to open the door, some on time, some an hour late--never quite figuring out what time God was on. I'm with the deacon.

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Photo of the Day















Like their annoying modern counterparts, the first generation of paparazzi staked out the homes of Buffalo Bill, Wyatt Earp, Lillie Langtry, and other Old West personalities. In the image above, we see an eager swarm of these pests waiting outside the North Dakota home of George and Libbie Custer.

The Silver Screen Lincoln

Whenever Tom and I are visiting with other Lincolnites, or Lincoln-philes, or Lin-colniacs, we eventually get around to the subject of Lincoln in the movies. Who was the best Lincoln? The majority usually votes for Henry Fonda in Young Mr. Lincoln (below, right), and who could blame them? Fonda, an American icon, playing Lincoln, the ultimate American icon. And that scene at the end where he walks into the sunset, into the pages of history, oh I can hardly bear it! Fonda's Lincoln is reflective, ethereal-- as if he can see tragedy before him.

I also liked Sam Waterston and Mary Tyler Moore in Gore Vidal's Lincoln (below, left). He is matter-of-fact, decent, but not saintly. She is wonderfully disturbed, and we pity and despise her at the same time. But Tom and I agree that hands down the best portrayal of the Lincolns is Raymond Massey and Ruth Gordon in Abe Lincoln in Illinois (above).

The 1940 film covers Lincoln's life from Kentucky until his election to the White House, including meeting Mary, their broken engagement, and their life before Washington. While the sets are incredible, especially the gaslight illuminations during the presidential campaign, we are drawn in by this couple, who are drawn to one another despite, or because of, their weaknesses. Their struggle to maintain their relationship is poignant. Massey's Lincoln is wise, moral (disgusted by the machinations of politics), and resigned to his personal and political fate. Gordon's Mary is vivacious and haunted and nervous, and she should have won an Oscar for this performance.

The last scene is a real tearjerker (bottom). Abe boards the train in Springfield to bid his neighbors farewell, and Massey says Lincoln's actual words. You'll need a whole box of Kleenex. (The music is not exactly historically accurate, according to my sources, but it is so appropriate I can forgive that!) This is a must-see.

While perusing channels the other day (women peruse, men surf), I came across another interesting portrayal of Lincoln--John Carradine in the film, Of Human Hearts. This 1938 release features Jimmy Stewart as a boy from Ohio who goes off to medical school and winds up as a surgeon in the Union Army. His mother, meanwhile, has sold off family heirlooms and finally their horse, a pet really, in an effort to provide her son with an education, room and board, a fancy uniform, anything his ungrateful little heart desires. So, he is busy saving lives and neglects to write his mother until one day, she asks President Lincoln for help finding her son's grave! (Talk about the ultimate guilt trip!) Lincoln summons the boy to the White House, gives him a good talking-to, and orders him to write his mother this minute and regularly hereafter under threat of court-martial. Carradine's Lincoln is wise, deep, and paternal--the father or grandfather we wish we had. He is also everything we were taught to believe about President Lincoln.

Whether accurate or not, there is no disputing that Abraham Lincoln inspired these portrayals, and the performances reflect the ideals we all aspire to, as well as the passion of the actors themselves for the subject. Sometimes that's more important than historical accuracy. Though, sometimes, I would like both.

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Other Recommendations

Emmy-award winning film maker Robert Lee Hodge spoke to our Kansas City Civil War Roundtable a couple of weeks ago and talked about movies and the Civil War. Since then, I've been inundated with comments about the interesting program, so I wanted to share with you a couple of the films he recommended:

1) Judge Priest starring Will Rogers. This 1934 John Ford film (has any director understood history and capturing the imagination like John Ford?) depicts life in a very Confederate Kentucky town during Reconstruction. Full of the racial stereotypes of the time, overly romanticized in some points, but some great faces and costuming. I loved it.

2) A Private History of a Campaign that Failed starring Pat Hingle. I was simply blown away by this 1981 production of Nebraska Public Television. Based on the story by Mark Twain, this movie is a small picture of war, of young men motivated by glory and romance only to turn and run when confronted by the realities of war. There are so many great details, little glimpses into 1860. I can't wait to watch it again.

How about you? What's your favorite Civil War or Western movie?

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Few realize that before he became famous during the Civil War for his immortal words, "Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead!", Admiral David Farragut was a riverboat captain on the Missouri where his now-forgotten cry, "Damn the sandbars, full speed ahead!" often had disastrous consequences.

Remember Fess Parker!

Davy Crockett will always look like Fess Parker to me, no matter how much historical research, no matter how many times John Wayne or Billy Bob Thornton appear in the role; when I see Davy Crockett (below, right) I see Fess Parker.

When the last few minutes of the three-part Disney movie played on television, and there was our last vision of coonskinned-capped Crockett flailing away at the enemy, a tremendous sadness washed over me. He died! I can't believe he died! Yet somehow, even as a child, I understood that he lived on, that all those men lived on.

Parker is now over 80 years old and a Santa Barbara, California, real estate tycoon. Texas awarded the native son its prestigious Medal for the Arts a few years ago, so he had the chance to visit his alma mater in Austin (Parker was a history major at UT). He was interviewed by the alumni magazine, The Alcalde, and talked with the reporter about what a heartfelt response he still gets from his fans:

. . . he explains that he's a reminder of their innocence in America, individually and collectively. And between 1955 and 1970, when he retired his frontiersman role, by then as Daniel Boone, there was a lot of innocence that had been lost. "I made a couple of trips to Vietnam in '68 and again in '70 and these were the same little kids that I was shaking hands with in Oklahoma and Arkansas," said Parker, "and I felt so bad that this was what they inherited."

Yes, Parker is a reminder of innocence and just plain decency. And boy, do we miss him!

The Alamo fell on this day in 1836. Remember the Alamo! Remember Fess Parker!!

Read the rest of the interview at: http://utopia.utexas.edu/articles/alcalde/parker.html?sec=texas&sub=people.
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Sing Along, Kids!

The Ballad of Davy Crockett

Born on a mountain top in Tennessee
Greenest state in the Land of the Free
Raised in the woods so he knew evry tree
Kilt him a b'ar when he was only three.

Davy, Davy Crockett, King of the wild frontier!
Davy, Davy Crockett, King of the wild frontier!

Off through the woods he's a marchin along
Makin up yarns an a singin a song
Itchin for fightin an rightin a wrong
Grizzley as a bar an twice as strong.

Davy, Davy Crockett, King of the wild frontier!
Davy, Davy Crockett, King of the wild frontier!

His land is biggest an his land is best
From grassy plains to the mountain crest
Hes ahead of us all meetin the test
Followin his legend into the West.

Davy, Davy Crockett, King of the wild frontier!
Davy, Davy Crockett, King of the wild frontier!Davy,
Davy Crockett, King of the wild frontier!

"The Ballad of Davy Crockett" premiered on the first episode of the ABC television show, Disneyland, on Oct. 27, 1954, to help advertise the upcoming Crockett trilogy and to fill extra running time. The song, which went on to sales of 10 million copies, was written as an afterthought in about 20 minutes by George Bruns, Disney’s head songwriter and composer, and Crockett script writer Tom Blackburn, who had never written a song before. In 1955, The Ballad of Davy Crockett became the fastest-selling recording up to that time. It later was recorded by Bill Hayes (left) and spent five weeks at No. 1 on the charts. Fess Parker, who never sang professionally before, also recorded a version of the song that sold a million copies. All told, 41 separate recordings were made of the 20-verse song, with some versions including nine additional verses. "

Heather Brand, Texas State History Museum, 2002 Interview



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Emails

1) Hello Deb,
WOW- stumbled across your cool Mason-Dixon Wild West blog! In a world where reading stuff on the internet leaves you thinking “well, there’s ten minutes of my life I’ll never get back,” your stuff is truly rich! Love your wit & wisdom--and the “pitchers” are nice too. Will visit it often. Also served as a reminder that there are some of Tom’s books I do not have--I shall remedy that soon!

I have a ‘myspace’ site, along with a bunch of like-minded history nerds, in case you want to check it out: http://www.myspace.com/ccwingfield Take care & have a great spring,

Dan Hadley

PS--Your blog kicks arse!

DG--Thanks so much, Dan. Always great to have fans and bookbuyers! Check out Dan's myspace page. I especially liked the lurid tales of reenacting!

2) Hi Deb:

We met at the book signing for Matthew Polly last week. Terry King, my cousin, emailed me your website, and I found it incredibly interesting. We have added it to our Favorites, that we may continue to be updated on your issues.

It was a pleasure to meet you.

Toni and Paul Beck
Ness City, KS

DG--Great to meet you as well, and look forward to coming out to Ness City. Isn't that Terry something? He just copied a documentary Tom & I were in, Aftershock, because we had not seen it and didn't have a copy (Watch the History Channel for times). We're making him our publicist! Oh, and the Matt Polly booksigning was very nice. Matt, a local boy made good, has written American Shaolin: Flying Kicks, Buddhist Monks, and the Legend of Iron Crotch: An Odyssey in the New China, which is well on its way to becoming a bestseller.

New River

The New River flows north, meandering back and forth over the edge of North Carolina, through the mountains of Virginia, West Virginia, and eventually emptying into the Ohio. As a child, I camped on the river where aunts and uncles and cousins lived near Independence, Virginia. My sister and I were put out of the flatboat onto little islands no bigger than our bedroom while Daddy and his nephew fished or checked their laylines, dragging in catfish that looked like seamonsters, bigger than we were. When I was older, I would drive up to Fosters Falls and just sit, listening to water tumble over the low rocks; in the autumn, there was rain so soft it was like tinkling glass breaking the surface of the river. In the winter, the sheer cliff on the other side would be covered in frost as would the fields and barns and stones in the river--a scene so fragile a deep breath might have shattered it. In the spring, Easter flowers washed from abandoned homeplaces were bright yellow specks in unexpected places--the sandbars, next to feed troughs. As the days grew longer, so did the thistles, towering over me in brilliant purple and nettled leaves. At Austinville, the mine shaft was so close to the river that sometimes fish fell from the ceiling, somehow seeping through the mud. At Fries (bottom; pronounced freeze), the chunks of ice broke in the spring and sounded like cannon, according to my Grandma. Once, her mother walked across the frozen river to help a sick neighbor.

These places are as much a part of me as my bone or breath.

This is where Stephen F. Austin (left), the Father of Texas, first saw the light of day. It is a fitting place for a great man to be born, though in 1793 it was not far removed from the frontier. There were people living who remembered Indian raids and there were still bear and an occasional mountain lion. (My Grandma used to tell the story of her aunt who was picking blackberries when she realized a wildcat was watching her. She ran, stripping clothing as she went, and the cat would stop and tear each piece to rags. She was down to her bloomers by the time she reached her house.)

The Austins stayed just a few years. They headed for southeastern Missouri and of course, eventually, Texas. Austin was not at the Alamo; his struggles were different, political. His talents were different. He was a thinking man, a man who planned and pondered. His efforts were not always appreciated. He died alone and destitute, having devoted everything, literally every part of himself to making Texas. He was 43.

I like to think that when Stephen Austin lay ill in that foreign land, his work done, that the images of the mountains, of the frost on the river, whether in his memory or not, were in his bones, eased his breath. I like to think this little spot in Virginia along the New River helped shape Texas, the same way it shaped me.

(Top Photo of New River by Jeff Weaver; bottom photo by David Arnold)

The Most Outrageous Spectacle

Is anyone out there old enough to remember when Nelson Rockefeller was loaded at the Republican National Convention and, after gleefully pulling the delegation's phone from its jack, was tactfully escorted off the floor and administered gallons of coffee? Well, as entertaining as that was, it doesn't compare to the events of Lincoln's second inaugural (thousands poured into town despite the rain and mud, above). The weekend of March 4-6, 1865, is hands down the Most Outrageous Spectacle in the Annals of American Politics. And the star of the show was Vice-president Andrew Johnson.

If you're a student of history, you have read that lofty, inspiring, speech, "the better angels" speech, that Lincoln delivered on the portico of the Capitol. You also know that after torrential rains, the sun came out and shone down its blessing on America's beleaguered leader. What you may not know is that Lincoln's ringing speech is virtually the only lofty, inspiring, moment in a comedy of errors unequalled in our history.

Andrew Johnson came from circumstances even lower than Lincoln's. No one's ascension to the White House was more miraculous than his, and he knew it. He was in Tennessee and gravely ill in the days just prior to the inaugural; he wrote Lincoln and begged to be excused from the whole affair but Lincoln wouldn't have it. So the feverish Johnson made the arduous trip to Washington, and just before he delivered his inaugural speech, he took a couple of BIG swigs of brandy to fortify his soul. He should have shared with the spectators. In fact, nothing short of pulling a flask from his waistcoat and offering a drink to the president could have been more shocking. The heat of the chamber, the stress of the moment, the weakened condition of our subject--all combined to the get the best, or worst, of Johnson.

"I'm a'here for to tell you," ranted the man who was a heartbeat away from the presidency. "I'm a'here for to tell you, I'm a plebeian, your president, he's a plebeian." Johnson pointed to the various personages, the most important men in the country, and vowed that each and every one was a plebeian, a servant of the people. Except for Secretary of the Navy Gideon Welles. He couldn't remember his name. Finally, someone gave him the answer and he declared that yes, Welles, too, was a plebeian.

Even those in the audience who knew what a plebeian was were certain that it comforted no one to be lumped into the same category as the drunken Johnson (left). Democrats leaned forward in delight; Republicans slumped in their chairs and avoided the gaze of their gloating adversaries. President Lincoln slipped quietly into the room in the midst of Johnson's harangue and sat with his head in his hands, staring down into his lap. He made eye contact with no one. When asked to swear in the new senators, Johnson merely mumbled and waved the Bible over them. They looked quizzically to one another? Were they official? Should they sit down?

Efforts to stop Johnson were futile; tugs at his coat went unnoticed. At last, he was forced to his seat. Despite the pause in the deluge and the throng's ability to move outside for the remainder of the ceremonies, despite Lincoln's appropriate and comforting words, despite the miracle of the sun's breaking forth at just the right moment, despite the bright prospects for the country in March of 1865, the spectre of Johnson's stump speech lingered over all. It had embarrassed the president, outraged the first lady (so much so that she would always believe Johnson responsible for her husband's death), and left Johnson an outcast despite his position. It would be a cloud over his own inaugural, and on his presidency.

(For more on Lincoln, look for the March issue of Armchair General . You'll find an article Tom wrote on the aftermath of the Lincoln assassination. Also, be sure to read Editor Jerry Morelock's editorial on the same subject. )

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Very Important Southern News

With all the news of weather and where to bury Anna Nicole, you may have missed the important news from Arkansas this week. The legislature voted on the official spelling of the possessive of the state's name. Henceforth, the possessive of Arkansas is Arkansas's. It is a sad commentary when the state of education is so lacking in this country that legislative bodies must tell us where to put an apostrophe! (But, at least they are stepping up to the plate and taking a stand on punctuation!) No word yet on what to call someone from Arkansas. Is it an Arkansan? An Arkansawer? In other news from the Natural State, convicted drunk drivers are going to get hot pink license plates. Boy, is that going to hurt Bubba's feelings!


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Thought for the Day

Give me a man that is capable of a devotion to anything, rather than a cold, calculating average of all the virtues--Bret Harte

Bad Blood

The social event of the Kansas/Missouri Civil War season was held last night and I was served the first glass of wine! Bad Blood: The Border War that Triggered the Civil War debuted at the Liberty Memorial in Kansas City to a packed house that included A&E's Bill Kurtis. Knowing the principals involved, I had high expectations and I was not disappointed. Produced by Pam Reichart and Angee Simmons of KCPT, along with Wide Awake Films, the documentary tells the complex and volatile story of the years before the Civil War, when the nation's animosities were playing out in the West.

Rather than use historians as talking heads, the producers chose to ask the people who lived it to tell the story. Missouri farmers (like the one portrayed by Jay Jackson, right) and Kansas homesteaders describe their experiences offering an original and effective twist to documentary making. (Though, as a frequent talking head I hope this doesn't catch on!) Stealing the show were actors Dave Bearrs as David Rice Atchison and Shane Seley as Jim Lane. The accomplished musician and songstress Connie Dover was in charge of the music, which suited the movie perfectly, and her poignant vocal at the end is worth waiting for. This film is fast-paced, just as events of the era were constantly changing. Bad Blood will air on KCPT March 4 at 7 p.m., and will also be shown on other public television affiliates so watch your listings. Wide Awake Films will also be offering the DVDs for sale sometime in the future, so ask your local station to air the documentary, and we'll keep you posted when DVDs are available.

Pam says that a tremendous resource while working on Bad Blood was Tom's War to the Knife. Of all Tom's books, it's actually my favorite, and no other volume tells the personal struggles of that era as well. (Just because I'm prejudiced doesn't mean it isn't really good!) In the photo to the left, Angee, Pam, and Shane go over the script on location last summer.

Top photo by Robert Szabo

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Spring Tours

There is nothing more fun than going through someone else's closet! Stopped in to visit with Betty Ergovich at the Harris-Kearney House yesterday. She was showing me some of the discoveries she made when going through the drawers and cupboards of the house for items to display. The historic home is the cornerstone of Westport, the village that was literally the "port to the West" and was gradually swallowed up by Kansas City. The charm and energy of that original hamlet remain, however, and Westport is a thriving community with nightspots galore. We'll keep you posted on events at the Harris-Kearney House (including their Veranda Sale June 30--mark you calendar, girls!)Starting in April, we're planning some daylong tours that will include interesting, historic and FUN sites in Westport, so drop a line if you're interested in joining us. We also plan some wine tours, cemetery tours, trail tours--maybe we could do a closet tour. . . .


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Yes, Children, History Pays!

Our local NPR station had a history trivia question this morning, but I didn't call quickly enough to win, darn it! "This Kansas County was originally named for Sec. of War Jefferson Davis. After the Civil War, the name was changed. Who was it subsequently named for?" A couple of years ago, I won a free bluegrass CD when I knew the name of the winning presidential ticket in the 1856 election. The answer of course, James Buchanan and John C. Breckinridge. Ironically, Breckenridge, Colorado, is named for this very vice president who was later Secretary of War under Jefferson Davis in the Confederate States of America. Instead of changing the name, the semi-outraged town just changed the spelling from Breckinridge to Breckenridge. Great disguise, guys! Oh, and the Kansas County? The name was changed from Davis to Geary to honor Union general and Kansas Territorial governor, John Geary (above left, as portrayed by an actor in Bad Blood).
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Iron Brigade

Be sure to pick up the March issue of America's Civil War. Featured are photographs and artifcacts from the famed Iron Brigade, as well as an insightful article by Lance J. Herdegen, the brigade's biographer. Truly quality scholarship and compelling images

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Thought for the Day

What would men be without women? Scarce, sir, mighty scarce. -- Mark Twain