My Heritage

As a young man, Miles P. Clark moved to Van Wert, Ohio from his home in New York to make a life for himself in the west.  There, he met his wife Mary and became one of the managers of the St. Charles Hotel, hosting Cotillon Parties until the 1850s.

Around 1857, he was given the opportunity to take lead over his own life, instead of just being another employee, and moved his family and two sons to the frontier in Scott County of the Minnesota Territory, where he helped with the formation of the village of St. Lawerence, becoming the hotel keeper and postmaster when the village officially formed in 1858, the same year Minnesota became a state.

When war broke out in 1861, he had well established his home, having added a set of fraternal twins--a boy and a girl, now two years old, to join his nine and ten year-old sons.  In September 1861, himself now of age 33, he left the hotel to the care of his wife and volunteered to join the 4th Minnesota Company A, mustering in at Ft Snelling, near St. Paul, about a day's ride from his home.  Since he had a talent for music, he was enlisted as a musician.

Over the winter the regiment trained and drilled.  Uniforms arrived three weeks after their training started.  On March 18, 1862, the regiment received orders to proceed to St. Louis, Missouri, which was delayed until April 20th, since the river from Ft. Snelling was still not navigable until then.  Passing by St. Paul on the way out, Miles played, "The Girl I Left Behind Me" with the rest of the regiment's band as people lined the bluffs with the men cheering as the steamboat sailed away.  The regiment arrived at Benton Barracks in St. Louis on April 24th.

At the barracks, an innovative sutler had a supply of steel vests for sale.  The vests consisted of two 1/16th inch plates bent to fit the chest.  They were designed to slip into the lining of each side of an ordinary vest and intended to protect one from the hazards of the enemy.  Also known as ironclads, the sutler sold them for between $7.50 and $20, depending on the quality and sophistication.  Although there was a certain temptation to owning one of these, Miles was more interested in saving his hard-earned money for his family back home.  As musician, he was not in quite the same danger as the rest of the regiment, so thought better of it.  The vests became quite popular as the first few purchases regularly saw use as targets for revolvers and appeared to provide good protection.

The sutler gained a significant profit until, joining the regiment on the steamboat to Cairo, he tried to sell to one particular private.  The private was skeptical, but agreed to purchase a set if it would stand the test against the minie ball of a Springfield.  Borrowing a Springfield from the colonel's orderlies (the only ones in the regiment to have Springfields), they placed the vests against a sack of oats.  It was with much amusement that the onlookers watched the bullet fire right through the plates and the oats, and skip up the river out of sight.  Needless to say, the sutler made no more money off the regiment after that.

By May 14, 1862, the regiment arrived at Hamburgh Landing, Tennessee and began the march to Corinth, Mississippi.  The march was hot.  They were used to the weather of Minnesota, and these days in May were far worse than the August of the north.  By May 30th, they reached the edges of the city of Corinth, joining up with most of the rest of the Union forces, a dense smoke enveloping the city.

Over the next month, the regiment moved to various locations around Corinth, looking for a good place to camp and scouting for the graybacks, seeing none but one around five miles southeast of Corinth.

But they had a severe attack from another source.  The water of the Mississippi country was intolerant of the Yankee invaders and struck many down with severe bouts of dysentery.  Sick call was of no help to those that suffered, as the men were accused of playing off and told to use a red-hot poker to seal themselves up.  Change with sick call only occurred when death came, sending the message that the situation was dire.

The sickness continued through the end of June, and Miles Clark was not spared.  He survived, but was not able to continue with the regiment, so was discharged for disability in July 1862.

Returning home, he soon found insufficient business to keep his hotel running, so by 1870 he relocated his family to Cairo, Minnesota, deep in the heart of the state to try his hand at farming with his brother Robert.  His eldest son, now 19, still lived at home, but worked at the local store as a clerk.

Farming did not work well for Miles, and by 1880 he moved his family again to Hector, Minnesota, taking back his life as a hotel keeper.  His eldest son moved on, but the rest of the children still lived in the hotel with their parents, with Willis working as a real-estate agent, and Harry, one of the twins, working as a telegraph operator.  Hattie, the other twin, met George Ashby, one of the boarders of the hotel, that year, married him, and gave birth to a son, Harry in 1881.

By 1900, the Ashbys and the Clarks moved to Superior, Wisconsin on Lake Superior.  Miles became an honorary member of G.A.R. and played his fife at every encampment until his death in 1907 at 81.

Harry Ashby grew to become the captain of the William P. Palmer, an ore ship known as a Tin Stacker--one of the largest ships in the world, and flagship for the Pittsburgh Steamship Company.  Harry married Lulu Willerd, who died giving birth to G. Howard Ashby in 1910.  Hattie, who had changed to going by Harriet, raised Howard since Harry was away on the Lakes for months at a time and could not care for him.

By the Great Depression of 1929, work was scarce, but Harry helped his son to get a job with the Pittsburgh Steamship Company, and before long, G. H. Ashby was the captain of his own ship.

During World War II, both men served in the Coast Guard.

G. H. Ashby married Doris Morrison and had two daughters, Barbara and Ellen.

Ellen is my mother.

On Christmas Day, 2016, my mother stumbled onto an old scrapbook.  She didn't even know who had created it or where it came from.  Most of what was in it were news clippings and letters covering the life of Harry Ashby, my great grandfather.  But then I stumbled across an obiturary for a Civil War veteran, one Miles Clark, and suddenly I had a moment of shock. I had no knowledge of ties to the Civil War, and suddenly, staring at me, was a solid connection.  The article referred to him being survived by a daughter, one "Mrs. Ashby", confirming some kind of connection.

The scrapbook also had certificates for Miles becoming an auctioneer and postmaster in Minnesota, and had a Cotillon Party invitation for the St. Charles Hotel for March 23, 1854, with Miles Clark listed as a manager.  There was even a certificate, dated 1912, from the Adjutant General's Office of the State of Minnesota certifying Miles Clark's honorable discharge for disability on July 12, 1862.

Based on the focus of the scrapbook being Harry Ashby, and with the addition of pieces of the life of Miles Clark, along with an article about Mary Clark, I imagine it was Harriet Ashby, daughter of Miles Clark and mother of Harry Ashby, who compiled the scrapbook.

With online research I found Miles was enlisted as Musician for the 4th Minnesota, and I found the book "History of the Fourth Regiment of Minnesota Infantry Volunteers During the Great Rebellion" by Alonzo L. Brown to fill in the gaps of his story with the 4th Minnesota.  The U.S. Census records of 1860 through 1910 confirmed all the rest.

Sometimes surprises can come in unusual ways.  Although it looks like he saw no combat, he was a part of that history, and a direct tie for me to that history.

Preserving the Battlefield

Perryville Cleanup Day

Perryville, KY

May 23, 2015

We arrived at the Perryville Battlefield early ready to work. It was their cleanup day, and we hoped we could avoid the hazards we encountered from last year.

Ten of us from the 1st Tennessee were ready to work. Chad Greene assigned us to work on a couple of out buildings and a barn at the Bottom House, all of which had been built after the Civil War.

I started work on the roof of one of the out-buildings, using a crowbar to pull up the nails and tin. I figured this was a better choice than pulling out the hundred years of garbage that had collected in the area below.

It wasn't long when all the garbage was removed and they had me come down from the roof. They had a medium-sized tractor and used it to push the structure over. It didn't have any of the supports that the barn from last year had, so the building went down quick, and we piled the rubble into piles to be taken away or burned.

I moved on to removing siding from the main barn. Fortunately, we weren't going to be involved in taking this barn down. It had as much support beams as the previous year's barn, so I was relieved from that nightmare. I worked with a crowbar for awhile, separating the tin from the wood beams they were nailed to, but I decided to follow Chad Greene's lead and use a mallet to pound the tin away.

Some of the higher pieces were tough to deal with, so several of us worked together with a long wooden post jamming away at the pieces.


With the side ripped away, Chad decided to use have the tractor begin work in pulling down part of the barn. With a chainsaw, he weakened two corner beams in the back lean-to part of the barn, and had the tractor pull with a chain.

There was enough support remaining that the roof held. He proceeded with the next inner supports, then with the other corner, continuing until all the supports were down and the roof collapsed. It was smooth and scientific.

We broke for lunch, well worn from the hard work of the morning. Hot dogs, hamburgers, potato salad and beans replenished our strength.

We returned for more work, but all that remained were us from the 1st Tennessee and the Perryville staff, including Micah Trent and and a few others. The rest apparently had enough and went home.

With the roof down, Rick Compton and I worked with Steve Winston and Jackson Nyman's friend Moe all worked on stripping the tin from the fallen roof. The work was hard--a scattering of roofing screws held down the tin, making it rough to pull up until Steve and Moe pulled up all the screws with power drills.

Even with the screws up the work was hard, but eventually Rick and I figured out that by using shovels and working together, the tin rolled off like and orange peel.

While we worked on the roofing, the rest of the 1st TN either worked cleaning out the barn, or pulling up fencing.

At the end of the work, J.R. took us down the path the original 1st Tennessee took in the Battle of Perryville. We wanted to get some ariel footage, so I attempted to use my drone for some overhead video-but the Chinglish manual was a bit difficult to decipher, and so the footage did not come out.

When all was said and done, we headed back to the hotel to clean up, and enjoy a meal at the Kentucky Chocolate Factory in Harrodsburg.

Friends of Perryville Battlefield State Historic Site Facebook Page

How to become a Reenactor Part 4

Everything written here are my sole opinions and observations and do not represent the opinions or observations of anyone else or any organization

Each and every reenactor has their own story of how they came into Civil War reenacting.  Now that I've covered my own story of how I became a reenactor, starting with Revolutionary War reenacting through becoming dedicated to Civil War reenacting with the 1st Tennessee Co B, I have some tips for those who aren't in the hobby, but might be thinking about trying it out for yourself.

First off, this hobby isn't for everyone, but just because you're not a history buff doesn't mean you won't find enjoyment in this hobby.  I, for example, started this hobby with little to no interest in history—I was a sci-fi geek.  Though probably a majority of Civil War reenactors seem to be able to tie some kind of heritage back to the Civil War—usually they have a great-great grandfather or something that fought in the war—this also is not a pre-requisite.  Back to me as an example—my own ancestry did not immigrate to America until the early 1900s—I have no tie to America prior to the 20th Century.    Yet, I found Civil War reenacting both entertaining and educational.

Going Blue or Gray is nothing more than a personal choice—often one side is chosen over another simply because the person's ancestor fought on that side.  The philosophies of the time are alien to us today.  Both sides need reenactors—and all of us try to be friends with each other.  You can find enjoyment regardless of the side you choose to portray and it is not uncommon for reenactors to do both sides.

The best way to start is to visit a Civil War reenactment in your area.  Get there early and spend the day.   Depending on the event, you are likely to find a lot of tents near where you come in of reenactors doing demonstrations and selling wares.  When looking to enter the hobby, you might talk with some of these, but you actually want to move past them to the camp of tents usually located off to one side. Those up front are generally the sutlers or first person impressionists who work by themselves.  When entering the hobby, you need to find the groups—the units that form for the battle.

If the event is small, there will likely be two groups, one for the Yankee side, and one for the Confederate side.  A larger event will have a lot more.  The smaller events are better for getting into—the reenactors will be more able to spend time training and preparing you.  Find a group that welcomes you and wants to help you out.  Once you find a group that you like, see if they'll let you fall in with them for the day.  If they are a group you want to fall in with, they will spend time teaching you the maneuvers and the handling of the rifle.

Any reenactor that has been in the hobby awhile will have gear they can loan for the day, so if they are interested in having you join them, and have had a chance to train you for the battlefield, they will find enough to get by for you.

I have heard of groups expecting you to get all your gear before they even allow you to join them.  This is really too much to expect, because you need to first find out if this hobby is even for you.

If you do find a group to join, you will be expected to get all the reenacting gear you need as quickly as possible.  This will take time, and can be expensive.  You should check with the group, and should seek their advice on the particulars to keep in line with the impression they are presenting.  There are a large variety of things you can get, and many won't be appropriate for your unit (or even the time period).  Purchasing the wrong thing will prove only a waste of money.

The first thing you should get are shoes.  This is usually the most difficult thing to borrow.  Your rifle will need to be next.  After this, follow the guidance of the group.

Finally, pay attention to the training they give you—particularly safety training.  You will be handling explosives and a real firearm—the risk to life and limb is real.  Safety among reenactors is of utmost importance; the quickest way to be booted from the group is to ignore safety.

If you are already a member of a reenacting group, reading this for ideas on how to recruit, there are all sorts of things you can do to let people know about your group, but if you will lose them if you don't properly welcome them into your group once you have them.

Be prepared for the possibility that the prospect will not be a fit for your group.  I have seen a few prospects for the 1st Tennessee not work out for various reasons.  But be willing to help them out as much as you can.  Having a spare musket is critical—how else will they be able to join you?  This is the single most expensive piece of gear—someone new to the hobby will not be willing to purchase a musket—or any gear—until they know they want to make reenacting their hobby, so you need to be understanding of this.

How to Become a Reenactor Part 3

It was a sunny day in September, sometime around 2003 or 2004.

My wife outfitted me in some borrowed clothes to make me look like I belonged to the 1860s--or at least make me think I looked like I belonged to the 1860s.  I wore a borrowed bowler, a borrowed civilian coat falling apart at the seams, my modern dress pants and modern shoes.

Yeah--I hadn't yet learned about the term, "Farbie".   I was wearing an outfit I wouldn't be caught dead in today.

We went to Pioneer Village, Caesar's Creek in Waynesville Ohio, only about an hour from home, where, according to my wife, they were holding a Civil War reenactment.  As we pulled up, we saw a sign charging $5 per car, so drove down the street and parked in an out-of-the-way location and slipped in the back entrance.

We wandered around a bit, looking over the old pioneer-style homes.  Eventually we wandered into a row of tents that looked much like the Rev War tents I was used to seeing.  A guy in all dark blue and bars on his shoulder came out of a tent and started talking to us a bit about the Civil War.  He was Shawn Farkus, captain of the 4th Ohio Company B.

It didn't take long before he asked me, "Hey, you wanna join us for the battle?"

Black powder, musket--my response was, "Uh, okay..."

He was able to scrounge together some sky-blue trousers and a coat.  He sold me on the acceptability of my bowler, and slipped some tarred gaiters around my ankles to hide the modern shoes.  He handed me a musket and went through some basic drills.

From that weekend, my wife and I did other Civil War events along with our Revolutionary War reenacting, falling in with the 4th OVI.  Some time the following year Capt Shawn Farkus disappeared off the face of the earth, with Vern Woodruff taking his place.  I found myself liking Civil War better than Rev War, probably because there seemed little for a civilian male reenactor to do--so if my wife was to have me join her to the Civil War reenacting, it required me to join as a soldier.  In my Rev War reenacting, I primarily did civilian reenacting--and I always felt a bit out of place.

The following summer my wife and I found ourselves downtown Columbus, Ohio for their annual Independence Day celebration, and ran into a Confederate reenacting group--the 1st Tennessee Co B.

They were there for the parade, and had rented a hotel room in the short north.  My wife--knowing no stranger--managed to get an invite back to their hotel room, and I tagged along.

Now, it hadn't really sunk in with me yet that the uniform color really only mattered (in general) on the battlefield.  Out of view of the public, a reenactor (in general) is just someone else in the hobby.  I got to that hotel room, feeling a bit awkward.  Do I tell these guys that I wear blue?  Are they just waiting to gang up on me?

The hotel room was packed.  In one corner I found a small group playing cards.  I found out they were playing Euchre.

That changed everything.

In high school, Euchre was a required course--they called it "Study Hall".  I played a lot of Euchre.  But since getting married I didn't have anyone to play.  So when I saw that game in that hotel room, I couldn't help but ask if I could join in while my wife wandered the room, making sure there were no strangers there.

We continued with both Civil War and Rev War reenacting for several years, falling in sometimes with the 4th OVI, and sometimes with the 1st TN, depending on the event and who we ran into first. My wife gave me a Federal uniform for Christmas, and the 1st TN's 1st Sergeant outfitted me with Confederate gear.  I still had to borrow a musket, but I was joining in.

Eventually, my wife started following a different direction than me, pursuing a 1st person experience with a specific character, while I stuck to the soldier experience.  Up to this point we always drove home Saturday night to return late Sunday morning, or stayed in a hotel if too far from home.  We started doing different events, and I was freed camp with the rest of the unit.

By now, this was 2009 or so.  I hadn't yet decided to dedicate to a particular unit.  At Reynoldsburg that year, I showed up with my Federal gear and camped with the 4th Ohio.  It was a one-day event at that time, where Sunday was to have a morning tactical, then end.  I discovered the 1st Tennessee was there, so on Friday night, in my Federal gear, I made my way to the 1st TN camp to play Euchre all night long.

I spent Saturday with the 4th OVI, but that night the younger crowd of the 4th ran off to the local pub--something I wasn't into--while the older folk took to bed early.  That left me with no choice but to wander back to the 1st TN camp and play more Euchre.

Needless to say, it was that event that sold me to the 1st Tennessee--and things haven't been the same since.

Am I a slave to a deck of cards?  It's funny--that first year after that we played Euchre every chance we had.  This past year, we played maybe three games the entire season.

Since that time both the 4th OVI and 1st Tennessee have changed into completely different units.  Had the 4th been what I have found them to be today, I probably would have stayed with them all those years ago.  But because of the directions that were taken, I am now a part of bringing both these units together to work together in the field.

The only constant is change.

Next time--tips to get into the hobby, and recruiting tips for units. 

How to Become a Reenactor Part 2

Everything written here are my sole opinions and observations and do not represent the opinions or observations of anyone else or any organization

Before reenacting, my life was average--even dull.  I was raised United Methodist, attended a private Christian school, majored in journalism for two years at a Christian college in Kentucky, graduated with a bachelor's in business from Ohio University, and began a career as a computer programmer.

I had a cursory interest in history.  My eyes were on science fiction--the typical geekish interests of a computer nerd like myself.

Average and dull.

I was introverted.  I made few friends.  Never talked much--unless it was about Star Trek or something sci-fi.  I gained few friends through my church.

Average and dull.

And then one day, my wife made a discovery.

It was a bit before 9/11, around 2000.  My wife and her mom came home from a run.  There was a terrifying excitement on my wife's face.  She saw something cool and wanted me to join her.  West Liberty, Ohio, had some kind of festival going on where everyone was wearing clothing from the Revolutionary War time period.

You don't argue with my wife.  I agreed to go up with her to this festival--it was something to do and kept me out of chores, anyhow.  How bad could it be?

It certainly seemed strange.  There were men dressed as Native Americans, wearing nothing more than a wool covering around their waste.  Lots of tricorn hats.  I remember a lot of them.  There was an archer showing off his hand-carved bow and shooting at a target.  Campfires everywhere.

I felt very out of place.

"It is only this one time," I kept telling myself.  "It'll end soon, and we can go home, never to remember this day again."

But then, we found the dancers.  I hated dancing.

It was okay to watch.  The moves reminded me of that day of square dancing I had in my gym class in high school.  There were a couple of cute girls in the mix as they danced in circles up and down the row.  A live band that included a fiddle and dulcimer played for the dancers.

It would soon pass, I hoped, and we could move on.

That is, until the dancers opened up the next dance to the crowd.  My wife insisted we join in.

I felt very out of place.

It was a simple dance--one called "Jefferson's Reel".  To simplify the teaching, each of the dancers partnered with one of the crowd, so that all I had to do was follow my partner.  I got one of the cute dancers.  They had us count with our partners as one's and two's, then our group of four took hands, and proceeded to learn the dance, walking through the steps as the dance master taught them to us.

I felt so out of place.

We went over it again, and then danced to music.

Afterward, my wife, who has never met a stranger, talked with the dance master and a few of the others.  They called themselves "The Liberty Dancers" and met every Thursday in Yellow Springs--and invited us to join them.  And since it was only a thirty minute drive for us--

At this point my wife and I were only into our fourth year or so of marriage.   I had not yet figured out that when my wife tries something--it is all the way.  She doesn't just dip her toes in to test the waters--she dives in, and it's sink or swim.

This was July.  By Labor Day, we were ready to perform for the public.  There was this big Revolutionary War festival that weekend in Springfield, Ohio.  The Faire at New Boston.

And just my luck, it was only twenty minutes from home.

Since we had absolutely no clothing relating to the Revolutionary War of our own at the time (it had all been out of fashion for about two hundred years), we were able to borrow everything.  We were able to get everything we needed, though my shoes were some beat-up modern things.  I was given a pale blue wescot, a hat blank with the sides sewn up to make a tricorn, and white trousers.  I found a pair of infantry trousers that went to the ankle to avoid the knee britches.

I felt more out of place than ever.  What had I gotten myself into?

It didn’t help that all the Liberty Dancers were very liberal in their modern political thinking, but I should have expected that when Yellow Springs was their base.  I learned it was pointless discussing elections and politics with them—I felt as if they thought Jimmy Carter was a good president.  Yes—I’m very conservative with my political views.

I later met others who were more normal thinking in the political views, but they were also the weirder ones in Revolutionary War reenacting.

The Faire at New Boston opened with a parade, where all reenactors in their 18th century getup meandered around the tent city.

There were a lot of odd creations there.  One guy was carrying around a rat, face dirtied up, missing teeth, and a huge sore on the side of his face.  He was the rat catcher—uh, but wait, I recognized him as one of the Liberty Dancers.

Oh, this was interesting.  What had I gotten myself into?

In one corner of the fair was this flamboyant Frenchman.  He wore a frilly, formal suit, a large white curly wig, and white makeup on his face.  Had it not been that he was portraying a Frenchman of 1800, I would have thought him gay.  He was making lace and demonstrating to the crowds how lace was made, but he had a whole spiel about how he normally had indentured servants to do his work, but since he didn’t have one he had to do it himself.  He tried to recruit a few kids for their assistance, promising something like a penny a month pay.  He also had an extreme arrogance about him—to the point of absurdity.

Having met this man outside of reenacting I can tell you that this is only one of his many acts.  He performs the acts in first person such that you believe he believes that he is that character.  He performs with humor and is very entertaining.  But he has a certain advantage—he is as eccentric as the characters he portrays.  He is very entertaining to be around, whether he is portraying a character or portraying himself.  You should see his son—he has snapped mousetraps on his tongue for the Discovery Channel.

Oh my, what had I gotten myself into?

Since the Liberty Dancers only had two or three half-hour shows to perform, my wife and I had a lot of time to wander around.  There were several tents of vendors selling wares, which were interesting, but kind of like wandering a flea market.  There were the strange acts that felt like you were watching the sideshow at a circus.

At the end of the day, they served all the reenactors a meal of ham and beans.  It was good stuff.  We hung out with the reenactors until after nightfall.  There were a couple of concession tents that served beer and lemonade throughout the day, but now just served beer.  And lots of beer.  The reenactors seemed to have had no tab to worry with.

Why were we here, anyhow?  They at least had lemonade when I asked for it, and there was no odd bite to the throat.  But I felt so out of place.  Can we go home now?  This proved one of the hazards of being married to someone who never knew a stranger.  Everyone at all times was her best friend—it was difficult to pull my wife away, even though neither of us drank.

We drove home, and returned the next day to start all over again.

When the event was over on Sunday, we followed a number of reenactors to a corner of the park, where the ham and beans had been served all day long.  I wondered what could possibly be so fascinating in this corner.

It started with the need to empty the left-over beer. It ended with the need to get rid of the left-over waxed boxes the supplies came in.  There was a campfire.  That pretty much says it all.

There is a tree in that corner, with a branch that extends over the campfire where the ham and beans are cooked over all day long.  It is probably thirty feet off the ground.  It has long been charred black from the annual box-burning ceremony.  I wonder if by now it has disintegrated to pure ash.

What had I gotten myself into?

There were a couple of small Rev War reenactments we attended that had battles, and I don’t remember the particulars, other than it was again at George Rogers Clark Park.  In fact, every single Rev War reenactment we went to was at George Rogers Clark Park in Springfield.

But it was at these events that had battles that I got my first taste blackpowder—and that started down a road of addiction that led me to where I am now.

I think it was my wife that pushed me into talking with some of the militia about the idea of trying things out.  It was before the battle and I had to borrow a musket, rounds, and a cartridge box.  They took me through the paces to show me how to handle the Kentucky rifle (I hadn’t even handled a modern gun before), and load it by tearing the round, pouring a little in the flashpan, and the rest down the muzzle.

Then they had me fire it.

Oh, that was sweet.  I was hooked.  Ah, the smell of blackpowder.  The nuzzling of the butt against my shoulder, lightly kicking from the fire. The smoke lingering in the air.  Oh sweet musket, where had you been all my life?

That event was just a small one with about a dozen or so militia.  I learned some of the basic commands and maneuvers.  But it was the 225th Battle of Peckuwa, at George Rogers Clark Park in Springfield that gave me a real taste of what reenacting can be like.

For that battle, I borrowed a beautiful Kentucky Rifle from the head park ranger, who also was the commander of the 6-pounder brass Napoleon cannon used for the fight.  Somehow I would up on the side of the British--which in this battle involved mainly Native American Shawnee against the American Regulars.

Someone helped to smear war paint all over my face and cover my hair with a cloth to hide the fact that I wasn't Shawnee.  And with a breach cloth and large shirt, I followed the rest of the band into the woods where we waited for the battle to start.  A group of kids were given wooden muskets to add to our numbers, instructed to stay at the far end of the battlefield so as to hide the fake muskets.

I hadn't yet learned about keeping water out of the muzzle of my musket, and when a light drizzle moistened the air, my borrowed rifle became sabotaged.

We formed up in a cornfield that was grown just for this event.  As the Americans approached, firing their cannon, then pushing it forward to fire again, we fired from within the corn--that is, except for me who could do nothing more than create a nice flash in the pan with the flintlock.

We were pushed back, and the cannon was pushed through the cornfield, and I fought my musket constantly, trying to get it to fire.  In the middle of the fight, the rains picked up.  Well, that's a bit of an understatement.  Rather, Lake Erie decided to up and relocate over our heads, dropping down such that there was more water than air falling around us.  This pretty much put a halt to our attempts to shoot.  As we took refuge  in the little wooden fort, that cannon fired the remainder of its rounds, with pyrotechnics creating little craters around the fort to simulate the cannon hits.

Eventually the rains let up and we were able to go back to firing back at our enemy, falling back into the woods to conclude the battle.  There were a couple of "Rendezvousers" with us.  I learned those are guys that are a bit different than reenactors--the best explanation I can come up with is that the big difference are that they do their things for themselves as opposed to doing it for public, like reenactors do.  They do more live-shoot competitions, collect antique-style weapons, and hang out together in mountain-man style outfits.  I could always tell when the Rendezvousers shot, because they formed our artillery response, shooting with perhaps three times the blackpowder the rest of us used.

I found, though, that there was a bit of difference between Revolutionary War reenactors and Civil War Reenactors.  When I discovered the Civil War, I discovered something more my style.

To be continued...

Fallen Friend

October 27, 2012

One of our beloved comrades in arms suffered a heart attack.  Last week, Gary Shaw, former 1st Sergeant of the 1st Tennessee Company B, was admitted to Mount Carmel East in Columbus, Ohio.  A few of us visited him after the Ohio Leadership Conference.  He is doing fine, and is expected to return home on Tuesday.

I personally owe a lot to him.  If it were not for him, I am uncertain that I would be in this hobby today.

Our prayers are for him.

Analysis of Wingless Dynamit Nobel Caps

Performed at Fort Wayne, Indiana

July 15, 2012

At the Fort Wayne event Zack Carte and I tested out the Dynamit Nobel wingless percussion caps that can commonly be found at sutlers.  They have the appeal of being significantly cheaper than the normal RWS or CCI caps, so several of us have been curious to try them out to see if they could be used as an alternative.

The price of the wingless caps are between $5 and $6, about half the cost of the RWS and CCI 4 wing caps.  However, these are probably not period correct, as all photos I have seen of dug up caps have wings.

Our examination as a possible alternative is for infantry only—for other purposes this review does not apply.  For example, if you are cavalry and considering using these caps for your weapons, please ignore this review since the issues noted may not apply.  This review is to take into consideration having men standing immediately next to you, on either side, and being affected by what you do. Cavalry, for example, is not likely to have someone in close proximity, unless dismounted.

We fired about 10 caps with no powder.  Their behavior was similar to the 4 wing RWS.  With one exception there was no tearing and no evidence these would fragment.  In a control test we ran a few 4 wing RWS caps through the same testing and got nearly identical results—only one exception to no tearing or evidence of a risk of fragmentation.  We then proceeded to fire 2 rounds double charged (about 130-140 grain) with no issue.

Our control tests included the 4 wing RWS caps, the 4 wing CCI caps and the 4 wing Navy Arms caps.  As expected, and consistent with previous testing, the RWS and CCI caps had no issue, but the Navy arms caps showed tearing.  The Navy Arms cap wrapped one wing around the hammer, tearing nearly in half.

From the perspective of risk of fragmentation, the caps are safe.  However, they sparked brightly, like having a sparkler light up on the nipple.  Zack reported others using these wingless caps in battle lines and getting sparks hitting his face, and based on the amount of sparking it is obvious how dangerous they can be to the eyes of all nearby.  The biggest risk would be to a soldier in the front rank when fired from a soldier in the rear.

I personally test-fired a series in battle at Sharon Woods.  I was at right end of line, so was in a safe position in relation to other soldiers.  They are quite small and a bit difficult to manage, but that bright sparking was disruptive and disturbing.  I supposed one could get used to it, but I do not like it.  It was like having a firecracker at your face.

That sparking into the eyes of someone is enough to say that these caps should NEVER be used in infantry battle lines.  If you always fight in skirmish lines only, or are not infantry—there is no issue.  There is no fragmentation so they are safe from injury in that perspective, but sparking in close infantry lines is not something that should be risked.  Any captain reading this should take the responsibility to pass this information on to his men to not use these caps out of consideration for the eyesight of his comrades.

Review of musket caps tests:

4 Wing CCI caps: acceptable.  No fragmentation.  Cost is about 20% less than the 4-Wing RWS caps.  Regular use over time showed a bit of residue over the nipple after firing, which could potentially cause blockage if your nipple hole was small.  My nipple hole is large and I have never encountered a problem.  Reliability does seem to be a bit less than the RWS 4-wing caps.  I have encountered about 1 per 100 that are outright duds (they were nothing but copper).

4 Wing RWS caps:  best choice, but the most expensive.  Did experience fragmentation one time during battle from the soldier next to me, though I feel this was a fluke.

4 Wing Navy Arms caps: wings on the caps showed tearing after every firing, regardless of load, suggesting an unacceptable risk of fragmentation.  Every double-charged load caused fragmentation.  Price was comparable to the 4-Wing CCI caps, but they are difficult to find (at least here in Ohio).

Dynamit Noble Wingless caps:  least expensive and reliable, but had a much brighter flash when fired that could be disconcerting until the soldier gets used to it.  Also a risk of sparking in the eyes of soldiers on either side. Avoid if in infantry lines to prevent eye injury. If authenticity is important, you will need to pass on these anyhow as 4-wing caps are the period-correct choice.

6 Wing CCI caps:  fired hot and loud.  Price is nearly as inexpensive as the wingless caps.  Almost don't need a powder load when firing one of these.  Have not tested for fragmentation, but rumor has it that these are prone to fragment like the Navy Arms caps, though my experience suggest otherwise.  I find these acceptable, but only if the entire unit is using them as you will stand out due to how much louder they are.   They also have a bit more flash to them, but not as bad as the wingless Dynamit Noble caps.  If authenticity is important, you will need to pass on these as 4-wing caps are the period-correct choice.

Living History in Middle School

May 25, 2012

Heritage Middle School

Hilliard OH

Setting up camp Thursday evening for a school day on a field at Heritage Middle School in Hilliard OH we saw promise as a handful of kids came to watch us set up.  We have seen many times where kids seem to know nothing about the Civil War and are left to wonder at the failing of our school system when they don’t teach history.  I’ve even heard the question, “So which war was the Civil War?”  But the teachers we encountered at Heritage Middle School had an honest passion for teaching their kids, and the kids had an honest passion for learning.

We demonstrated a little on Thursday—I performed a short speed-loading demonstration, firing off three rounds in a minute two seconds (a little slow for me).  They were even fascinated by watching Sgt Mott start the campfire with flint and steel.

We had to be very conservative with the wood for the campfire—we only had about enough wood to burn during the actual demonstrations, so extinguished the fire for the night.

Morning started early.  The school served Danishes at 6:30, and at around 7 the first group of eight graders came through.  We had four stations for the kids and had little break.  First station was Doc Gill for medical, a couple of the ladies demonstrated at another station, Sgt Mott and I demonstrating the soldier’s camp life and gear at a third station, and Sgt Shaw, Cpl Carte, and Pvt Wiseburger drilling at the fourth.  Each station was to last about half the class period so the kids could rotate through at least two stations per period.  We had about six or seven periods over the day, and I got to know Sgt Mott’s spiel pretty well by the end of the day.  Our sessions went long enough that we often missed when the kids rotated, not realizing they had switch sessions (sometimes they wondered between stations on their own) until we found ourselves repeating answers to questions.

It was  a good time, and we are looking forward to doing it again next year.

The Regimental Meeting

March 10, 2012

Finally getting started back into the season, we met at our usual place at the Springfield, OH Heritage Center to review 2011 and plan for 2012.

Gas was a concern, and because of it, distant events were dropped.  Jackson, MI was dropped from the list due to the far distant, but already a number of us are planning on going anyhow—it is an important voting meeting for the Independent Guard Brigade, so several of our officers wanted to be there for that.

Richmond, KY was also in consideration, but also its distance precluded a serious vote.  Hartford City, IN is a favorite, but was dropped in favor of Perryville, KY, since that is its 150^th.  Hartford City is the weekend immediately following Perryville, but due to the amount of effort expected for Perryville and with Pioneer Village in Waynesville, OH immediately before Perryville, the unit chose to pass on Hartford City.  I’ll try to recruit a few to still attend since it is a good event—but if I don’t get any takers, I won’t go alone.

We also chose to not return to McConnelsville, and instead go to Fort Wayne, IN for their Camp Allen Muster.  We’ve never been to the Fort Wayne event, but McConnelsville was starting to grow old.  We almost failed to get enough votes for Fort Wayne, however.

The threshold that was required for selecting an event as official for the unit required 60% of those that voted.  That meant that an event had to have 16 votes in order to be placed on the official schedule. 

So, the official schedule for the 1^st Tennessee is as follows:

April 21-22: Spring Drill at the Durbin Bean Bake campgrounds, Durbin, OH

May 19-20: Sharon Woods, Sharonville, OH

June 2-3: Grove City, OH

June 23-24: Reynoldsburg, OH

July 14-15: Fort Wayne, IN

September 2: Durbin Bean Bake, Durbin OH (It is likely we may start the day before for ourselves.

September 8-9: Fort Recovery, OH

September 29-30: Pioneer Village, Caesar’s Creek, Waynesville, OH

October 5-7: Perryville, KY

Of course, I will attend more events than this.  In addition to above, I plan to try for the following:

March 24-25: Hurricane, WV

May 5: Mansfield Civil War Collectors Show (just for one day)

August 11-12: Hale Farm, Bath OH

August 25-26: Jackson, MI

October 13-14: Hartford City, IN

October 20-21: Monroe, OH

November 3-4: Guyandotte, WV

In addition, Sgt Mott has several school days events on some Fridays he is planning and wants volunteers for.  I would have to take off work for the day, but I may do so if I am able.  His next one is for May 25 in Hilliard, OH.

Doc mentioned a timeline event at Fort Meigs in Toledo, OH that I am going to look into, held on June 16-17. It sounded like it would be a fun event—I’ll know more once I check them out.

Finally, Cpl Jeff Carte gave me a contact for a possible Springfield, OH event.  Springfield is probably the most ideal location for the 1^st Tennessee as it is the geographical center for the members of the unit.  I love it since it is only about twenty minutes from home for me.

Something for the Off-Season

The winter months are always slow for the reenactor.  Unless you are hard-core, you really don't have much to do.  The hard-core can always freeze at events such as Fredericksburg and other winter events, but for those of us who are semi-normal, indoors will have to do.

So, about the best I can do for February is a school presentation at Saint Mary Magdalane School in Columbus.  It lasted for about two hours as Andrew Mott, Gary Shaw, Eric the pet Doctor (my brain has blanked on his last name), and Steve Winston rambled on about the equipment and clothing of the Civil War.  They seemed to like us--but the real winner was when Andrew popped off a blank cap from his pistol.  The marble of the sanctuary we were in reverberated to make it nearly sound like an actual gunshot.  We represented both sides of the war.  Andrew asked me to wear my Confederate captain's uniform while he donned a union captain uniform.  Shaw had sergeant's stripes while Eric and Steve were gray and blue privates.

Okay, so that's not much to talk about.  March should be better--the 1st Tennessee will hold its regimental meeting to plan the events for the year, and a number of the events look rather promising.  And a small contingent of us will be going to Hurricane, WV for a small event.  It'll be something different, and we'll be able to scratch that itch for wearing wool at least a month earlier than usual.  So, until next month....

Restoring the Camp Chairs

It was at Nelsonville 2011 that I first tried to use my new camp chairs, pictured above.  I found out in a hurry that the fabric was questionable at best—the fabric on three of the chairs quickly tore after only a few minutes of sitting in them.

When I originally purchased them a couple of weeks before Nelsonville, in July 2011, they were covered in mold.  The seats had so much mold it was impossible to determine the actual color of the seats.  But they looked promising.  At the time, I didn’t know anything about them—and apparently neither did the vendor.  They just looked a lot like the modern reproduction camp chairs you see everywhere with the white canvas—except these also had a back to them.

I’m not sure about the strength of the back—the design seems that the back gives too much when you lean back, so I’d be afraid to put too much weight against them.  Other than that, they are very strong chairs—much stronger than the modern reproduction camp chairs without the backs that you see at reenactments.

To clean off the mold I simply used a scrub brush and hot (near boiling) soapy water—using Dawn liquid soap.  I tried using Murphy’s Oil soap on one of the chairs instead, but Dawn seemed to work better.  I rinsed them as best I could (that fabric tended to hold onto that soap), and let them dry in the sun.  I didn’t want to keep them in the sun any longer than I had to, but I wanted to make sure to kill off any mold I might have missed.

Bear in mind that at this point my only purpose for purchasing these chairs was to use them as camp chairs at reenactments.  The two camp chairs I originally had both saw their last days recently—the first I crushed as the nails I kept pounding in finally gave way, while the second the canvas had gotten too weak for some other reenactor.  I hadn’t paid anything for either of these chairs—they were campfire rescues—but now I needed something and just happened to stumble on these at a flea market in Springfield, Ohio.  When I first saw them, I almost passed them up—only taking about 40 minutes to finally return to them and ask what they wanted for them.  I had fixed a price of $20 in my head.  The person watching the vendor’s stuff had to call up the guy, and when they said $30, I almost walked away, but I figured I could sell a pair of them off at $15 each and make my money back.

Of course, everything changed once I researched the chairs.  My research on these chairs led me to the 1866 patent (re-issued 1868), manufactured by BJ Harrison and Company out of Arcanus, New York.  I found this eBay link showing one chair (in better condition) for $100, and this other link for one chair that was just the frame for $175.  I also saw a sutler at Zoar selling three of these chairs, with fabric in worse shape than mine, but not refinished (like mine were).  He was selling them for between $55 and $75.

The chairs were beautiful, but I could tell that they had been re-finished, and not really the best job (a fingerprint is visible in a couple of spots, there is obvious dripping in a few spots, and the finish was missed in some of the more difficult to brush spots).  The refinishing also apparently obscured the signing stamp, as I could not find it anywhere—it should have been on the backside of the base of the backrest.  The fabric was a type of carpet and looked very good after I cleaned them up, but had significant wear spots in them—probably from a moth or something.  And as I mentioned, I discovered later that the fabric was pretty well rotted and would not sustain much use.  In my research I found reason to doubt the fabric was original, but it was likely the fabric was from the early 1900s—still very old.

In restoring these chairs my goal was not to restore them to museum quality—simply to where I could use them in camp.  This meant I was not concerned about the poor re-finishing—I could feel safe about that getting messed up in camp.  When that got to the point that something needed done, then I could look at properly refinishing it, and correct the mistakes of the last person to finish it (although I am tempted to take the fingerprint to the police files to track down more of the history of the chairs).

My first step was to remove the fabric from one of the chairs.  I wanted to completely finish the work on one chair before touching any of the others so that I could use the untouched chairs as guides.  I hoped the patent my help, but it really did not tell me much, other than the fabric could be made of cloth, carpet, or some other “suitable pliable material”, and secured “by any appropriate means to the front seat-rail”.

I first removed the part that could be used as a handle when the chair was folded.  This was held on by two flat-head screws, which required a rather small screwdriver to fit in the slots.  After removing the screws, the handle slid off the back posts quite well. Four larger flat-head screws held down a flat securing board, which I removed.  The securing board slid off the post just as easily.  Underneath the board were two slots.  The fabric was nailed with small nails to the base of the back of the chair.  I carefully removed these screws with my screwdriver, hoping to reuse them for the new fabric.  A couple of the nails were bent significantly, so I’ll need to find replacements before securing the new fabric.

Upon removing the fabric, I found two metal rails in the base that fit into the slots of the securing board.  These rails were simply laying snug into slots in the base.  Part of one of the rails would not lay secure into its slot, but this is not an issue since the securing board would hold it all together.

Metal post securing the fabric to the chair.

The fabric was secured to the front part of the chair through a hidden metal post and sewn to itself.  The chairs I found at Zoar were different—these were held to the front part of the chair using the same mechanism as the back of the chair, like I mentioned above.  I cut those threads and was able to patiently slide the carpet back through the slot between the metal post and the front seat-rail.  Once removed, I studied the ribbon that secured the edges of the fabric, carefully removing the ribbon on one side.  I figured that the carpets that Jeff Carte provided would need a ribbon, and I wanted to make sure to match the original ribbon as closely as possible.  The black cotton ribbon was <inches> inches wide and only folded over on the topside.  The underside was sewn flush to the carpet.  I could easily reproduce this by ironing the replacement ribbon, and I hoped that a fabric store would have ribbon that matched the pattern.

Thumbtack covering end of post.

That metal post worried me, however.  It was rather difficult to slid the carpet through it.  But Jim Kletzli pulled out his knife and showed me that the covers at the ends of the posts on the outside of the legs were merely thumbtacks used to secure the post.  Removing these thumbtacks should make the posts easy to slide in and out.  Unfortunately, it turned out that these so-called “thumbtacks” were merely covers for nails that held the post in place.  I tried, per Jim’s suggestion, to remove the nails with a vicegrip, but upon twisting it to pull it out, I broke the end off.  So, instead I used a bolt to pound the post through.  It was not obvious to me until I started pushing the post through that there was a small wood plug on each side.  Once the post was pushed through enough, I could easily remove the wood plug.  Pushed further, and we had space to work with to put fabric through.  It turned out that the nails were nailed into the side of the hole for the post, which is why I could not twist them, and also why they were difficult, if not impossible to remove.  Knowing this will make it easier to deal with on the remaining chairs, but with the nails now damaged, I would have to work a solution for being able to re-used the nail covers.

In the meantime, Jim and I were able to examine the carpets Jeff provided and found that the material would be too thick to fit between the wood and the post, so decided to pass on it.  I did find a close match to the ribbon at JoAnn Fabrics, so held onto a couple of spools for when we found usable fabric for the seat.  At a local hardware store, I found replacement tacks for the back, where the fabric is tacked to the backrest.

Carpet throws found at a yard sale for $5.

I stumbled onto a yard sale where someone was selling some throw rugs for $5.  One of the rugs was long for a hallway.  They were red with a yellow and white flowery pattern—perfect for the fabric we needed.  The hallway rug was just long enough to cut four pieces out of.  They were pretty easy to cut with a utility knife, and I hand-sewed the ribbon onto two of them.  I sold Kletzli the two other chairs, so handed him the other two pieces of rug for his chairs, along with the ribbon for them.

Carpet cut and black ribbon sewn on the edges.  Original fabric
is shown beside it.

Putting the carpet on the first chair was straight-forward.  I simply slid the carpet through the loosened post, pounded the post back into place (pushing the wood plugs back into place as well), then sewed it to itself to assure it being held in place.  I bought new tacking nails to replace the originals and pounded them into the carpet along the back of the chair, then screwed the clamp back into the base and the final wood dowel back at the bottom of the back of the chair.  I left the caps off until I could figure something out later.

The second chair was easy, now knowing what to do.  However, the caps came off a little differently.  The first one came off with its nail—and I realized these were just thumbtacks with large heads.  On the first chair, the heads had simply separated from their nail.  When I went to remove the second tack, its head separated like on the first chair.

I proceeded to remove the wood plugs by first pounding the post with a bold one way until the first plug dropped, then pounding it the other way.  The nail from the second thumbtack fell loose—it was only providing a façade over the wood plug.  Once the wood plugs and remaining nail were removed, the metal post fell loose and was easily removed by hand.  I removed the old carpet and repositioned the post for a small gap—just large enough to slide the new carpet onto it.

The new carpet provided enough tension against the post that I needed to use a hammer to pound it back into place.  I sewed the carpet against itself like the first chair, replaced the wood plugs and the thumbtacks.

And now I had two finished chairs.  I did discover that it was important to be liberal with tacking the carpet to the rear rail. If insufficient tacking is utilized, the carpet will eventually work its way loose with use.  At Monroe a fellow reenactor put a little too much pressure on one of the chairs, causing the carpet to work free.   At least it was an easy fix.

Finished product

A Weekend Off to buy some toys.

July 16, 2011

I apologize if this entry is more of a rambling, but since I can’t go to a reenactment (yeah, I'm missing out on 1st Manassas), then I should at least get some toys for one, right? 

Lil' Mary.  Ain't she shiny?

Since nothing was planned this weekend I went to the gun show down in Dayton and found Lil’ Mary, a nice Navy Arms replica of a brass frame .44 1858 Remmington revolver, for only $125.  Okay, so I’m not an officer and don’t have much use for one—but someday, I’ll be totin’ one of these things around with an officer’s sword and pop off a few just for effect.

At first, I wasn’t sure if I really wanted the gun.  The guy was asking $135 for the gun, and I was tempted to grab it and run for that price, but fortunately gun shows aren’t exactly the best place for buying and selling Civil War era reproduction weapons—everyone wants modern.  So I wandered awhile thinking about it.  Returning, I figured I’d offer $125—what could it hurt?

I had been pricing these pistols for about a year or so.  Most of the time even used ones were more than $200.  I had only seen $125 twice—once on Craigslist where the revolver sold in about 15 minutes—way before I could get to it—and once at the Dayton gun show by a reenactor getting out of the hobby.  That guy was also selling his 3-band Enfield for $200 (which I grabbed before he could spit).  I beat myself silly for not also buying the pistol, but I just could not bear to part with that much cash in one sitting. 

Oh, if you’re wondering about that Enfield, since I always talk about Christine, my Springfield, it’s spoken for.  I had named it Marty and got to play with it once or twice, but decided I liked Christine much better.  I sold the Enfield to a fellow reenactor (Mercer) in the 1^st Tennessee.  He got quite the bargain on it (I was willing to cut him a deal since he brings fresh steaks to the Durbin Bean Bake), but I also came out a good amount ahead.  If he hadn’t bought it, I’d probably gone around trying to sell it for $450—and considering the price of Enfields these days, I’m sure I would have found a buyer.  Marty was in pretty good shape after I fixed up the few small problems it had.

Nifty new, er old, er whatever, campchairs.

Then, on my way home, I found some nice folding chairs at a flea market.  These things folded up such that they looked like those folding campstools, except with the back added.  Instead of canvas these things had some sort of carpet.  The wood was a real fine, dark finish.  I could picture sitting back in one of these while enjoying a good game of Euchre.  They were antiques, though I have no idea how old they were—I’m hoping they date to prior to the Civil War, though I doubt they do.  The only problem for this set of 4 was that they were covered in mold.

But that’s no problem for me.  For thirty bucks I took these things home and gave them a good bath.  Cleaned them up real good.  I intend to keep two of them for myself, and try to sell the other two to recover some of my expense for the chairs.  I think they’ll make great additions to any mainstream campsite.   May even work for an authentic campsite if the captain is the only one with the chairs.  At McConnelsville a reenactor who fell in with us accidentally destroyed the canvas on my campstool—I didn’t mind much since the stool was a rescue from the campfire, anyhow.  But he offered to take it home and replace the canvas.  I’m thinking now that the guy can keep the leg-cramping campstool while I enjoy some real comforts.

Finally there was the Goodwill run.  Goodwill is a good place to get random knickknacks.  Sgt Mott is good with converting modern shirts into period shirts, so I found a couple of cheap shirts that I’ll have him work on.  There were also candles there.  A lot of candles—I’m probably well supplied for a couple of years now.  And finally are the candlestick holders.  I must have some kind of addiction with buying these things—they’re only ninety-nine cents.  I think I’m up to 14 now—and I had to restrain myself.  I’m going to try starting with just a couple during an evening Euchre round, and steadily build up to all 14—or at least until my friends start calling me nuts (whichever comes first).

Is that a bit over the top?  I'll have no problem seeing the Euchre cards!

And by the way, if you’re in need of a candlestick holder, just look me up—I’ll give you quite the deal on one.

Edit (07/20/2011): I did some research to try and find what I could on those chairs and YEEEEHAAW!!!  It was far better than I could have hoped for--AND I think I made a killing.  They are from US Patent number RE2891, patented 1866 (does that mean they could have been sold during the Civil War, or only after the patent was issued?), issued to B.J. Harrison and J. Condie of New York, NY. (link to patent). I also got some information from one Anna Worden Bauersmith, who gave me some good information and tips on the chairs--I think she left drooling over them.

I also found these eBay links, which give an idea of the value of these chairs:
http://cgi.ebay.com/Antique-Civil-War-Era-John-Folding-Camp-Carpet-Chair-/350460468309
http://cgi.ebay.com/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?ViewItem&item=160618978232+&clk_rvr_id=248806893211

Rescuing the Rescuer

This weekend was not a reenactment, but a rescue of sorts.  A friend of Gary Shaw’s had in his barn loft a relic of the Civil War, and offered to allow us to display it during the Lancaster event over the 4^th of July weekend.  He told us it was an ambulance in the Civil War.

The ambulance as stored, before extraction from the barn.

After seeing it, both Gary and I doubt it was an actual ambulance—but, even so, it may have been used as one.  We do not have any research as to how it was used during the War—only papers indicating that it was from the War.  There were the remnants of two Civil War cots with it, and I was told there was a significant amount of other Civil War items with it as well at one time.  If you have information that can tell us more about this relic, please post your comments to let us know.

It was not easy fetching the wagon out of the hayloft.  The current owner had used his barn over the past 30 years or so as a giant work shed—it had all sorts of things cluttering it up, including a pump organ, a 50’s era gas stove, and two 50’s era sports cars in extreme disrepair (little more than shells with engines).   All of this, plus a ton of lumber had to be moved just to make a path to extract the horse cart.  And then there was a hundred years of filth (lots of coons had been in and out of there over the years) that we stirred up.

Moving the cart to the hole.  That's me on the left--those jeans
were blue when we started.

Once the path was clear, we then had to carefully move the ambulance to the center of the loft, which was an opening with beams to provide a temporary flooring.  Once we put the cart on these beams, an extension cord was used to support it while the beams were removed.  An aluminum ladder was used as a ramp to slid the cart down.

Lowering the wagon.

The wagon was in exceptional shape considering its age and the amount of neglect it had seen.  One wheel had a couple of spokes a piece of wood around the rim missing.  The rear of the buckboard had damage to the inside board.  The tailgate was fully intact, but was completely separated.  The bows for supporting the canvas appear to all have been cut off—but all were present and accounted for.  There were little details here and there that suggested post-Civil War modifications, but they were items that either could be removed in a restoration project, or easily left as part of the history of the relic.  These modifications were probably from no later than the 1910s.

While we rolled it the day’s final destination a little outside the barn, one wheel started to collapse where its wood finally broke at several rotted points.  The owner said he was going to try to tack together some repairs to the ambulance in preparation for the Lancaster event—nothing significant, but enough to make it presentable and deliverable.  He doesn’t have far to go—the event is only about a quarter mile from where the cart has been stored for over a hundred years, but for the safety of the cart he is going to deliver it on a flatbed.

The final result

We are looking forward to seeing it displayed for the public over the 4^th of July.  It took ten of us to get that cart out of the barn—six from the 1^st Tennessee.  It will give us satisfaction to share a piece of history.

The ambulance during the 4th of July celebrations in Lancaster.

Edit: My doubts about this being an ambulance have been laid to rest.  Gary Shaw forward an original photo of a row of ambulances (below), and as you can see, our wagon looks to be an exact match, other than a bit longer (ours is twelve feet long) and missing the canvas, which appears would have been painted black. 

Finally, based on this link: http://www.civilwarhome.com/ambulancewagons.htm, it appears it is an extended version of the Rucker ambulance.