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Jefferson City, MO Sep 8-9, 1984
When sponsoring a reenactment/living history event, the host usually plans for every contingency. Enough food for both man and beast is made available, toilet facilities, parking, and a suitable area to locate the camps. Schedule's are passed out to both spectator and reenactor to provide information on what will occur during that Civil War weekend. Food vendors, sutler's, and souvenir peddlers all hope to make a buck off what should be an enjoyable two days under the summer sun as history comes to life.
However, some times Mother Nature does not like to play along. Some of the most memorable events over the last 20 years have been played out in less than ideal weather conditions. The hottest, most humid event I attended would have to be the 125th anniversary of Bull Run in June 1986. On the flip side, the coldest was Franklin, Tenn in December 1989. There have been some mudfest such as Belmont, Missouri, but the wettest event that I can recall was held near the Missouri State capitol in early September.
The event was located within an area off 50 Hwy called Binder Park. The park was a few miles from the city limits of Jefferson City. There were no modern buildings, playground equipment, or even roadside shelter's within this area that I recall. My wife and I arrived in my Mitsubishi and at one point I had to down shift in order to climb up a steep and narrow road through woods that led into the park. The road was the only thing that was modern. Once we located the camps, I set up our tents. Mona stayed in the Ladies area with the larger A frame tent, while I hunkered down in my dog tent.
Upon arrival into camp that Friday night, we changed into our wool duds and started the age old custom of getting 'corned'. Beer is the beverage of choice among reenactors, although a very few hearty souls will sip a little of the hard stuff- most notably the johnnies who are notorious for drinking stuff that could probably burn a hole in your clothes if spilt. I mention this love affair with alcohol because on this night, Gregg Higginbotham and Dickson Stauffer began a quest to drink every can of beer they could lay their hands on. The duo roamed around the park all night, talking to each other in that slurred, thick-tongued gibberish that only another drunk can understand. The mystery is how the two managed to stay on their feet all night. Even as the skies began to lighten with the new day, Hig and Dick were still pacing the park property, spewing gibberish like a foreign language. For the life of me, I can't recall if the two were fit for duty that day or if others commanded the Holmes Brigade Saturday morning.
During the Civil War, several thousand Ladies Aid societies were formed - in both the North and the South- in an attempt to raise money for the purchase of food and clothing they could provide for the soldier in the field. As the average soldier received short supply of both, the efforts of these women's groups were a God send. To raise the money needed, home baked and home made goods were sold. Anything that could be made by hand or donated was made available at large gatherings called "fairs". The largest fair was held in Chicago and netted a profit of over $80,000. The money all went to the relief of the soldier, whether in camp or in the hospital.
The theme of our event, or rather that which the civilians were involved in, was in recreating the Sanitary Fair of old as hosted by the present-day Ladies Union Aid Society and the Confederate Ladies Organization. Among the plethora of items that the ladies planned to sell at the 1984 fair were baked goods and other sweet eatables, scented handkerchiefs, dolls, patriotic CDV's, original artwork, soldier's housewife's (sewing kits), and toys, just to name a few. There would be a quilt raffle, and a Favorite Officer Contest, which I believed cost fifty cents just to cast one vote. Just like the Missourians of old did back in 1856 when voting in Kansas, we could vote as many times as we wanted. A fellow put $5.00 on one name alone. (Profits from this fair would go back into the ladies treasury to be used on the next military ball, which I think was slated to be held somewhere on the campus of the University of Missouri in Columbia the following February) Aside from the fair, additional entertainment during the two days would include an old time game of "town ball", a musket loading competition, and a political debate.
By 9:30 the Ladies Sanitary Fair was all set to open. Banners, patriotic bunting, and garishly decorated table tops were all ready to meet the visitor. Then the skies opened up. After two and one half months of drought, Mother Nature emptied buckets of rainwater on the region and within an hour, we had water up to our ankles. All the items set out on top of the tables had to be rescued and deposited in dry tents, in vehicles, or in trunks. Most of us retreated to our tents and began to dig shallow trenches with shovels to keep the water from invading the inside of tents. The federal camp was on a little bit of high ground, but I had a hard time keeping the big drops from creeping through the top of my dog tent. The dog tent is actually two shelter halves buttoned together at the top and hung over a ridge pole. Where the buttons did not quite fasten and a gap formed, water came through. I had to move all my traps and musket to the dry side of the tent. I curled in a fetal position in my tent and I remained fairly dry.
The rain slowly tapered off, then stopped just past noon. Even though clouds overhead were still black, we were ordered out to do the battle. It was another one of those generic deals were we blew powder back and forth between friend and foe. Mother Nature must have thought us bold for this violation against her, because within moments another heavy batch of rain was vomited out onto us. We cursed Mother Nature and tried to bully our way forward even as the sheets of liquid pounded our neck and shoulders. Muskets turned into squirt guns as streams of water shot out with the gun smoke. We finally admitted that the elements had subdued us, so both Blue and Gray called the contest finished and scampered like rats to our dry holes.
It continued to rain steadily throughout the afternoon, with continued showers forecast throughout the night. My wife came by about 5PM and said we should go into town and find lodging. I was reluctant to leave the boys for the comfort of a hotel-to farb out was the expression I used. Everyone else would be sleeping on the cold, wet ground. My wife was quick to remind me that I had just gotten over the flu some days back, so off I went. Linda Fetterling, who was John Maki's girlfriend, was going into town with Mona and I. She tried to get John to come along, but he said no. I crawled in the back of the Mitsubishi, while the girls sat in front; Mona driving. The three of us shared a room at a Jefferson City hotel and proceeded to restore some dignity to our wet selves. As we peeled off our wet duds, down to our skivvies, I noticed how the wet undergarments clung to me wife like a second skin. The two of us decided to take a shower together, and before you could say, "Hide the sausage!", we were doing the nasty right there in the stall. Linda was in the next room, but with the shower on, I doubted if she could hear our moans. Cleansed inside, as well as outside, we dressed in our 20th century clothes, and after waiting for Linda to shower and dress, the three of us went to find a bite to eat, then looked for a laundromat to dry out our clothes.
By next morning the rain had stopped and the sun was out. There were large puddles to be sure, but they quickly evaporated with the rising sun. The three of us farbs returned to the camp early that morning-after a quick drive through breakfast-and were in time to witness the resurrection of the Sanitary Fair. With the help of a few strong-backed men, the ladies were able to move the stuff out of tents and back on the table tops. Within a few minutes, the infantry marched into the area; to the music of fife and drums. Flags snapped in the wind, a choir sang, speeches were made by both Captain Dick and Mrs. Fannin, and an invocation was spoken by Reverend Jim Beckner. A cannon boomed a salute, cheers were shouted by all, and the Sanitary Fair was officially open-although 24 hours late. All other activity was abandoned for most of the day as shopper's swarmed into the area like locust's. Perhaps because the rain had put everyone in a 'damp' mood on Saturday (pun intended) , particularly on the part of the women who sacrificed so much time on this project, everybody felt compelled to buy stuff. Raffle tickets for the quilt was in demand. The favorite officer voting became heated between Higgy and Don Strother. Higgy eventually won. Higgy also bid on an original painting of The Battle of Athens as done by Captain Dick. He won that as well after paying the princely sum of $112. For myself, I bought a piece of artwork that Bill Fannin had done. It was a pen and ink drawing of an infantry soldier from New Hampshire. I don't know if he worked from a photograph or if the soldier is fabricated, but it a magnificent piece of work and I still own it.
At the conclusion of the event, the ladies had made a profit from the fair of over $800. If it had not rained on Saturday, would they have made more? I' m not sure. I think everyone was so disappointed that the fair was washed out the day before, that efforts were redoubled to make sure it was a success the following day. Whatever the case, the ladies seemed overwhelmed by the show of support and smile's returned to their faces.
The following month in October, we had three remarkable events. Roscoe, Tipton, and Levasy. All Missouri events. I will explain as best I can in the next chapter the strange circumstances of how Holmes Brigade came under LIVE FIRE at the Roscoe event, then in smaller detail I will talk about the last two October surprises.
Chapter 21: UNDER LIVE FIRE!